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This is a continuing story, please see :

Emma’s stiletto seduction

Emma’s stiletto seduction Pt. 02

Emma’s stiletto seduction Pt. 03

Emma’s stiletto seduction Pt. 04

Comments welcome

Cum.

Men always, without question, like to see it. I blame porn. When a man cums into the mouth of a porn-star you cannot see it. The most intimate of all sex acts remains tantalisingly hidden to everyone but the protagonists. The receiver simply has no choice but to show the audience primary evidence of the orgasm or there is no climax to the story, no ending.

And yet in reality, David has just cum inside me. It’s not hidden from him, he felt it as the electricity ran though his veins. He has pulled his cock from my bum and witnessed the jizz contained within the condom. Watched as the latex was carefully removed from his penis, leaving it coated in sperm.

As I took David’s cock into my mouth my job now wasn’t too make it cum, but just to clean it. I made an ‘O’ with my lips and took it as far into my mouth as possible, and withdrew it, scraping the cum from the shaft and onto my tongue.

I looked up once more and revealed his cum on my tongue. And, just like the movies had instructed me, retained eye-contact as I swallowed it down.

David had decided to wait until we were both cleaned up and sharing a bottle of red wine. We were sitting on the sofa, my legs in his lap as they were on our very first date. It was difficult to believe it had only been 1 week ago.

“How things have moved on.” I thought.

He allowed his hands to wander absentmindedly to my stiletto heels, fondling them.

He knew he had a secret to tell me, one that he was not proud of keeping and certainly not proud of making. He didn’t want our relationship to stop, but the longer he kept it from me the more likely the news would bring this about.

He had contacted Howard, the voyeur who had watched us have sex the prior weekend. He knew that I needed to know. David took a sip of wine and caressed my high heeled shoes for what he thought could possibly be the last time.

“Emma, I need to tell you something.” David said quietly.

“You are not trans are you?” I laughed?

“Ha, no. No.” David replied, hoping that I wouldn’t continue making a joke of his revelation. “This is serious.”

“Okay, just tell me.” I said, removing the glass from my lips without drinking, a little more concerned.

“I’ve been texting Howard.”

“Do I know a Howard?” I thought to myself quickly, the man behind the name did not immediately come to mind.

“Who is Howard,” I enquired, “and why is it a problem?”

“He is the man who watched us have sex on Saturday.” David revealed.

I returned a puzzled look.

“I went back to the seafront to clear my head,” David said, ” I couldn’t sleep and he was, well, there.”

“And?”

“He gave me his number.”

“Why did he do that?” I asked.

“He wanted me to ask you if you would meet again,” David answered, “like last time in the shelter.”

“Oh he did, did he?” I responded. “And how do you feel about that?”

David did not immediately respond. He had been pondering that question for the past three days. He still did not know the definitive answer.

“And you have texted him?” I asked.

David nodded, suddenly aware he was being told off by a stern teacher. He knew what the next question would be, and that he would not like it one bit.

“Give me your phone.” I demanded.

Like someone who had been caught with his hand in the honey pot, David took out his mobile phone from his jacket pocket and unlocked it. He handed it to me, iMessage app open on the ‘Howard’ contact.

I scrolled upwards with my finger. There were dozens of messages.

“David, this isn’t just a text, this is a conversation!” I exclaimed, “Many conversations.”

He looked down to his feet, suddenly appalled as someone he liked, someone he lusted after, read his most intimate thoughts about her. It was like an explicit teenage diary had been exposed.

I read though the messages, they had started pleasant enough but had soon descended into crude discussions about me. What I looked like, what I liked doing, and what they wanted to do to me.

“Emma…” said David.

“Be quiet whilst I read though all of them.” I responded forcefully.

They were more than crude, they were intimate details of how they were going to turn me into their whore.

“David, what did you mean when you said that you wanted to ‘spit-roast the bitch’?” I asked, “That was sent at midnight.”

David wished that the cushions on the large green leather Chesterfield sofa would swallow him up. “What had I meant saying such things?” He asked himself.

But he know the answer. He knew that he had been turned on just typing them to another person. And that the idea of it would not leave his mind.

“It turned me on.” David admitted, looking sheepish, “I didn’t mean it. It was a fantasy.”

“So you don’t want to ‘spit-roast the bitch'” I porno izle said exaggeratedly, “with your new friend Howard?”

David paused.

“You appear to have promised him in these texts David,” I said sternly, “that you would ask me. That sounds like something more that a fantasy, like something you actually want.”

David paused.

“Yes.” Said David.

“At your house?”

“Yes.” Said David.

“Saturday?”

“Yes.” Said David.

“Then why don’t you text your friend Howard and arrange this?” I suggested.

It was with a mixture of excitement and trepidation that David took his phone back from me. He wanted to act on his fantasy, it had been a few weeks of not saying ‘no’ to anything so far, but he know that he didn’t really want to share me. That he wanted me for himself.

He scrolled down to the last message from Howard, and started typing…

David: It’s David, I’ve asked Emma. Do you want to come over Saturday evening say 8pm?

Howard: No way! Where are you again?

David: I’m on the road where you first saw us, house number fourteen.

Howard: She is up for it then?

I took the phone from David, and responded for him.

Emma as David: We can spit-roast the bitch.

Howard: Destroy the slut!

Emma as David: Fill her with cum.

Howard: As she sucked you off last time, can I have her mouth?

I passed the phone back to David, and he caught up with the conversation. He tried to keep calm.

“Aren’t you going to respond to him David?” I asked?

David: You can have her mouth. (Typing)

He showed the message to me, and hit ‘send’.

Chapter 2: David’s story

After Emma hadn’t kicked me out for sending messages behind her back, I had tried my best to keep contact with her over the past few days to a minimum.

Chapter 3: Howard’s story

Chapter 4: My story

David could think of little else until 7.45pm Saturday. His texts to me had been trivial, “How are you?”, “Still ok for the weekend?” In a matter-of-fact way.

On Saturday morning we exchanged the message:

David: Howard Confirms. X

Emma: Emma Confirms. X

I always get excited before a meet, and although sex with one guy is fantastic, I have always felt that sex with two men is better. Like my body is designed for exactly this scenario. Two holes, two cocks had been my mantra in my late 20s.

This was going to be different. I had to remember that this threesome was going to be with someone that I liked, someone that I fancied and someone that I wanted to try and continue in some sort of sexual relationship afterwards.

Things had moved too quickly, “but its his own fault,” I told myself, ” it’s what he said he wanted.”

The male reality of a threesome is rarely what they fantasise about. They picture having two women service their cock with their mouths, greedily sharing it. Then bending them both over and taking them from behind whilst they kiss.

It is rarely this way outside of pornography. Every threesome I have been to, or heard of in real life was with an extra male rather than an extra female.

Men who want threesomes simply have to get used to being around another man, another cock, another load of sperm. If they can get over that hurdle then the hardest part is yet to come. Can you cope with watching your partner service another man, or watching them get fucked?

I arranged for an Uber to meet me at 7.25pm at a street not too far from my apartment. It was an inconvenience picking up my car the previous weekend, and had cost me the price of two cab journeys anyway. The drivers were usually silent, and discreet. I expect they had seen it all before.

I had decided that if David wanted me to act like a whore, then tonight I should dress like one. My usual style was sexy, yes, my admiration for leather skirts and boots was a kink but I always tried to do it in an elegant rather than cheap way.

But David didn’t want elegant Emma this evening, so he wasn’t going to get it.

Stockings were a must, but instead of nylons this evening they were going to get pleather. A cheap black plastic imitation that I rolled up to my thighs. They would be “good enough for one use only.” I thought to myself feeling the quality, “At £14.99 too.”

I clipped them into a wet look suspender belt, another arrival from the same internet store, but this time the manufacturing felt better. “Perhaps two uses.” I imagined. I used the same push-up bra that I had on Wednesday.

I kept my eyes coated in dark make up, too much mascara and ridiculously large false lashes that made me look like a doll. Lipstick was bright red, the cheap stuff. They didn’t deserve the high-end stuff tonight.

I painted my nails red, for a change, but with no base coat or top coat. It would be chipping from my fingers before I arrived.

I was tempted to wear thigh boots, but this occasion warranted something more slutty. I had a pair of what previous boyfriends had called “Stripper heels’. Black patent, 7 inch spiked türkçe alt yazılı porno heel with a 3 inch platform.

Ironically they were far more comfortable than my regular pair of 5 inch round-toe stiletto high heels, they just didn’t look it. They made me tall, and gangly and of course unsteady on my feel. They gave a man the appearance of power and control over you. I buckled the Mary-Jane style straps tightly.

I have always loved leather, and had not yet met with David without a black leather skirt of various styles and lengths. Tonight of all nights was to test out a PVC skirt. It was patent, black, clearly more plastic and harder than leather. It had a high waist which trimmed my small figure and rested so that the top of my pleather stockings were clearly visible.

I had decided that I wouldn’t bother with a blouse, showing off my budding tits in just a bra would be enough. Still I would travel in a long length jacket of a black material that would cover everything from the knee up. It pays to be somewhat inconspicuous when not driving yourself to a meet.

If I was just going to wear a bra, then a collar is a must. I select a 1 1/2 inch wide leather choker from the drawer of my dressing table. It had a silver steel loop at the front, apparently so that a master could clip a leash on to me, although I had never used this as such. There are some things that I was yet to try.

To say that David had been apprehensive about the meet was a disservice. He was almost physically sick at the prospect. It wasn’t about letting a complete stranger into his home, though that was somewhat of a wrench for him, but rather watching the stranger service his partner.

His porn view habits had changed over the last few days. Instead of his regular kink of watching goth women giving blowjobs, it had turned to goth women being gang-banged by several men. He hoped that it would relax him, that he could at least pick up some tips, but it only made him more nervous. Would he be even able to perform in-front of another man? “I just have to fuck Emma like I did on Wednesday,” he repeated to himself, “at least she will be there with me if not holding my hand.”

AT 7.45pm David opened the front door of number 14 and I stepped inside.

“He’s not here yet.” Said David, the nervousness causing his voice to tremble slightly. “Can I take your coat?”

I turned my back to him, and he slipped off my black woollen coat and my outfit was revealed to him for the first time.

“You, you don’t have a top on!” David exclaimed.

“I figured whores don’t need them.” I responded sarcastically.

Davids eyes were glued to me. He hadn’t really looked at my skin before and only then from behind. He admired my small build and the freckles on my chest above my bra.

“Do you like it?” I asked.

“You don’t look you usual self,” David responded, “I prefer the leather look.”

He had noticed that my skirt and stockings were plastic, and that my lips and long fingernails were red. They stood out now when they usually blended in with my monochrome look.

“Well I’m not just pleasing you tonight.” Was my barbed riposte.

David knew he didn’t like this. He didn’t like the way I was coming back at him with smart comments, rebelling. He had enough of that from his wife, and liked the way I had previously always been submissive to him. He hadn’t really noticed it or appreciated just how much he liked it that way until it was taken away.

“Have you got condoms and lube?” I asked.

“Err no.” David said panicked. “I thought…”

“I have some in my bag.” I said frustratingly. “Here, take them”.

David took a foil packet string of 6 condoms and a new plastic bottle of water based lubricant. He paused.

“Why don’t you put them in the lounge.” I suggested, and he did so.

“This is exactly why I don’t meet virgins.” I told myself, exasperated at having to do everything and think of everything.

One of the best things about being submissive is that you don’t really have to do anything. The thinking, arranging and the logistics are all done by your partner. It’s much easier to follow commands. You can empty your mind, and just ‘be’.

I’d often thought that I was my most relaxed and contented when others would assume that I am at my most on edge and scared. When you are on your knees, and a man is pushing his cock into your mouth, hands on your head. “It’s almost like he is fucking every memory, every thought out of my mind.” I remembered, and you can be at perfect peace.

“Are you going to be ok?” David asked.

“Yes, are you?” I replied. “Just don’t say you are sorry”.

David turned the lights in the lounge down, and put on the welcoming porch lamp.

“Should I have made drinks?” Entered his mind, he was really starting to think that he was out of his depth.

I could see a figure approaching thought the frosted glass of the front door. It was 8pm precisely. I had often wondered why everyone who wants türk porno to fuck me is always so precise.

David stepped forward and pulled the snib back from the lock, and hesitated as he started to rotate the catch a quarter turn to the right…

With a reluctance he opened it and let the former stranger in.

All three of us remained silent, the two men standing shoulder to shoulder and looking back towards the hallway at me.

I could see the eyes of Howard widen, as he feasted on me for the second time. He was pleased with what he saw.

Howard was smaller thank David by about 3 or 4 inches. I would imagine they were of a similar age, but Howard retained more hair. He was stocky, and had the body of someone who used to work out but had simply forgotten to do so in the last 10 years. He wasn’t wearing a jacket, just a dark shirt and black jeans with leather Chelsea boots. However his face wasn’t as kind as Davids, who was still desperately trying to retain a forced smile.

I used the bannister and steps of the staircase to steady myself on my 7 inch heels as I lowered myself to the floor, kneeling on the cold terracotta coloured tiles. I placed my arms behind my back and folded them as best I could.

Howard stepped in-front of David towards me and unbuttoned his trousers. He wasn’t wearing shorts, and his erect cock spring out from his jeans. His cock was thicker than David’s, and about an inch shorter. HIs balls were smooth and had been trimmed or shaven recently. He was not about to wait for an official introduction.

He turned his head towards David, who was rooted to the spot, and turned his full attention back to me. Holding his cock in one hand, he grabbed my hair with the other, pushing my neck backwards and opening my mouth.

He pushed his cock hard into me, to the back of my throat and left it there, holding me down with his hand. I hadn’t taken a breath, and after a few seconds was starting to fight the lack of oxygen in my body. I tried to resist moving my arms from behind my back to push him off. I coughed, and finally he relented.

Briefly… allowing me to gasp a breath, and then pushed his cock into my mouth again, this time pushing my head with both hands.

Howard looked back at David again, who could not see what was happening, his view of me blocked by the stranger in the hall. From the gagging sounds he was listening to, and my gasps for air, his mind filled in the blanks.

This went on for approximately 3 minutes 24 seconds. David was counting.

Howard pulled out and I took a gulp of air, expectantly waiting for the cock to be replaced back into my mouth. But instead the stranger hooked his index finger into the loop on my collar, and tugged me upwards to my feet. I rocked backwards into my heels and stood in an ungainly fashion. The popping and scraping of my metal-tipped stiletto heels breaking the silence as they scrambled for friction against the smooth tile.

Howard dragged me towards the door to the dimly lit lounge. Passing David on the way, I grabbed his hand and he followed the two of us into the room, the sound of my stilettos now being muffled by the deep woollen carpet.

Howard, still with his hand on my collar dragged me to the floor so that I was on all fours now, dropping Davids hand and positioned like a dog. Again Howard put his cock in my mouth and rested it against my tonsils. It was hard, rock hard now with a large purple head. His balls were tight, not hanging long like Davids, and seemed to move without input.

Howard started to unbutton and remove his shirt, throwing it over the back of a chair. He cupped both his hands around my face, and proceeded to fuck it again.

I couldn’t help David now, he was on his own. This is what he wanted, seeing me with another man, but the reality verses fantasy can stir up very different emotions.

We had not spoken since Howard arrived, but now it was the strangers turn to break the silence.

“Are we going to roast her or not?”, he asked David. “For fucks sake fuck her or put the kettle on.”

At this point I was absolutely sure that David would have chosen the latter open if he possibly could. He was thinking that himself, wanting nothing more than the stranger to leave. But he knew he wouldn’t.

David took off his jacket and laid it carefully over the arm of a chair. he watched through the side of his eye as the stranger worked on my mouth. “It’s like he doesn’t care,” David thought, “She isn’t sucking him, he’s literally just fucking her mouth..”

David took off his shirt and turned his back whilst he unzipped his flies. He could hear the sound of me gagging now, the rhythmic wet-smack as Howards cock hit the back of my throat, the pace not abating. David took off his socks, but left his pants on, his cock was hard and yet he didn’t feel like he was enjoying himself.

Howard saw that David was finally ready, “what took him so long,” He thought to himself, “let’s do her.”

I felt Howard extract his cock from my mouth, a thick strand of saliva linked my chin to the bell end of his cockhead. His hand never left my hair and I felt it’s grip tightening.

He dragged me to my heels using my hair, I used his knees and legs as a ladder to assist. But he kept my head low, making me bend at 90 degrees and tit my head to one side.

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Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
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Economic considerations required me to rent a room in an apartment rather than get a place of my own. After visiting many locations I finally found a well-kept middle-class home in a nice building, owned by a very intelligent –and not unattractive–woman in her fifties. I was twenty-three at the time. Mrs. Morfydd (there didn’t seem to be any Mr. Morfydd) was direct and a little commanding in her inquiries about me. But her expectations of my conduct were reasonable, and I was glad to have the terms of our arrangement made so clear from the very start. I would have kitchen privileges, would help with the house cleaning and maintenance, could come and go as I pleased, but might not have overnight guests.

I liked Mrs. M. at once. I have always been somewhat shy, particularly around women, so I was glad to have her take the lead. I soon moved in my effects, mostly books, and a routine developed.

In the course of our first weeks together she asked a few questions. Did I have a girlfriend? The answer was negative. Had I had a girlfriend? Yes, I replied, not entirely candidly. I had had crushes, and once a girl had, apparently on a whim, bedded me, but lost all interest in me after that first time, when I came quite prematurely. I was so overexcited by our several inconclusive dates that when she finally let me have her I didn’t last long. “You came already?” she asked, or perhaps announced, and pushed me off and put her jeans back on. That was that.

I had had a few encounters with guys. These did not, and were not meant to, develop into relationships. They took the edge off my horniness, and were better than abjectly courting uninterested girls. I generally took a submissive role.

I liked wearing panties. My dick isn’t very big, only five inches when hard. I am well proportioned: thin, five foot seven, and I like to think it’s all to scale, but in fact my cock is a good inch smaller than average. Panties fit me, I don’t really need briefs, and I like the patterns and materials better, Anyhow, men’s briefs are designed nowadays so they pretty much look like panties, except they have that little pouch which I don’t really need.

Mrs. M. came into my room one day to speak to porno me about some household matter, and I hadn’t put away all the neatly folded clothing I had brought up with me from the building’s laundry room. She only glanced at what were obviously a pile of girl’s panties, and said nothing. But from that moment she seemed warmer, more sympathetic towards me. In the coming weeks she stood closer to me when we talked, and spoke in deeper, more intimate tones. Sometimes she would touch my shoulder when explaining something, or hold my arm when we went together to the kitchen. One day she told me I was such a nice boy, she wondered that I didn’t have a girlfriend. She stroked my hair when she said this. I sighed.

“Do you like women?” she asked, her hands on my shoulders now. “I saw your panties, and I wondered. It’s OK with me, whatever your preferences are.”

“I like women,” I said. “They don’t seem to much like me.”

“Well I like boys,” said Mrs. M., “especially sensitive boys like you. I think it’s so sweet that you wear panties. But aren’t they a little tight on you?”

“No they fit fine. I’m, uh, not that big.”

“I like that. I don’t like men who are big, like animals. I like smooth thin boys like you. Boys like you can better please a woman who knows what she wants.”

Here she kissed me. My little thing instantly got terribly hard in my pants. I didn’t know what to do. I somehow didn’t dare to take hold of her. She reached behind me and stroked my ass with her hands, pressing me against her while she kissed me.

In her bedroom we undressed. She was wearing just her bra and panties–black lacy ones. I was wearing my pink floral panties. I felt like a flat-chested girl next to her. I was so excited! She reached down and felt my small stiff penis, and said,

“You know you won’t be able to get me wet with this little thing. Have you ever gone down on a woman?”

I said nothing.

She took off her panties and sat on the edge of the bed. I got on my knees before her.

He pussy was quite hairy. She had a magnificent bush and her labia were large.

“That’s what pussy really looks like, Damian,” she said. Have you ever looked at one up close türkçe alt yazılı porno like this?”

I shook my head no.

“Give it a kiss.”

I did, a slow kiss on the amazing wrinkly cunt lips. I smelled the faint thrilling scent of her piss.

She pulled my face in.

“Kiss it nicely. Kiss my pussy for me, show me how much you love it.”

I kissed her pussy up and down, slowly, adoringly..

“Now lick it for me. Lick it like a good boy.”

I licked and licked, slowly, and deeply. I tasted her cunt. I smelled the wonderful smell of a pussy as it gets wet.

“Now put your hands under my ass, so you care really pull your face into it.”

I did so, licking deeply, concentrating on her clit. Sometimes I thrust my tongue into her, using it like a wet thick penis, but mostly I rubbed her clit with my tongue, in a circular motion. The one girl I had slept with let me watch her masturbate once, to tease me. I imitated with my tongue what I’d seen her do with her finger.

“Good boy. You don’t need to touch your little thing. Just hold my ass and keep your face in my nice pussy.”

She was getting really wet. I could almost have cum in my panties just from licking her.

She pushed my face away.

“Now take off your panties, sissy.”

I obeyed her. I wasn’t sure about her calling me a sissy, but with my pink panties I couldn’t well argue.

“Let me see your little thing. It’s so cute and small! Let’s see what it feels like.”

She guided me in. The wet warm cunt felt so good I could scarcely believe it. Hotter, more thrilling than any blowjob!

“Now don’t cum without my permission. Guys with little dicks often cum prematurely. They get so excited. Are you in me yet?”

I had been all the way in for a while.

She held my ass and pulled me close.

“Hump me with your little dickie. You like how that feels, don’t you? Hump my pussy with your little panty-boy cock, but don’t cum.”

It was all I could do not to cum, feeling her hot pussy and being told how small my dick was.

“If you cum in my pussy before I’m ready, I will make you lick it up and finish me with türk porno your mouth. You don’t want to have to lick up your little mess, do you? On your knees licking sperm from a pussy you were too little to fuck? I don’t know, guys like you with tiny dicks usually can’t help themselves. Maybe you really do belong in panties, your dick is too small to be a man’s. You can’t really fuck, can you? Just rub your little clit against mine like a girl. If that makes you cum, you can finish me like a girl, with your mouth. Maybe you’d like that better.”

I couldn’t help myself. I came. My little stiffy squirted helplessly in her hot cunt.

“You came, you little sissy, didn’t you?”

I nodded my head in shame.

“Get out, get out,” she said pushing me off her.

“Now clean me.”

She pushed my face into her cunt, dripping a little with my sperm. I lapped it, to keep it from getting onto the bed sheets.

“Now finish me with that talented tongue of yours. Lick me like a girl.”

I was already hard again from her words and the way she forced me to do what she wanted. I licked into her cunt eagerly, tasting the last of my salty liquid, and then it was nothing by the taste of wet pussy.

I went to work on her clit, rubbing it with my tongue in a circular motion, from time to time thickening my tongue to penetrate her. She held me by the back of the head, keeping my face in place, pushing it into her. Finally she started bucking and her cunt contracted and stayed tight as she came in my mouth.

When she was done fucking my face she put her palm to my forehead and pushed me off.

“Good girl.

“That worked out very well for me, and I think you liked it too.”

I nodded. It had been the most exciting sexual experience of my life.

“And don’t worry about your little thing. I don’t really like hung men, I don’t enjoy being gouged by a big cock. Some women do — masochistic women if you ask me. I prefer a guy with a little inadequate dick like yours. A dick I can just ignore. And I really love being licked. You have a very good tongue.”

She paused to reflect.

“I don’t really like sucking a cock. I hope that isn’t important for you, because I don’t do it. I don’t let men cum in my mouth. But you don’t really care about that do you?”

I shook my head.

“I didn’t think so., You’d rather be the one on your knees, wouldn’t you?”

I nodded, embarrassed but excited.

“Oh we are going to get along very well indeed.”

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Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Hi all! This is my first submission to LitErotica, and a fairly unpolished piece. I just wanted to test the waters and see if anyone was interested in this, or wanted to see more. Not a lot of explicit content, but if interest serves, there will be more later. Comments appreciated, and thanks for reading!

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Sara sat totally, perfectly still in the leather wingback chair positioned in the corner of the waiting room. The silence of the waiting room was absolute, save for the occasional click-clack of a keyboard from behind the tall reception desk, and even that only served to accentuate how heavy the quiet sat upon her. Sara stared intensely at the sealed manilla envelope on her lap. Inside was a small stack of papers, mostly insurance and medical forms, but which also included a couple two pages with some rather probing, personal questions. The former she had filled out the day her doctor had handed them to her. She was very efficient that way. The latter, however, she had put off until right before going to bed the night before. She didn’t really want to answer those questions, and in fact she had been told that she didn’t have to, but they were the reason she was here in the first place. So instead, she had allowed them to torment her for the past two weeks, ever since her doctor had made an appointment for her. The business card she had been handed sat heavily in the breast pocket of her jacket since then as well.

Doctor Laura Stringer, MD, PHD

Then below that;

Sex therapist – Individuals, couples, and group therapy;

and then the address and phone number below that. Sara was endlessly grateful, if a bit taken back initially, that her doctor was kind and thoughtful enough to set up this optional appointment for her. Even more grateful that it was covered by her insurance. Doctor Stringer was an old friend, she told Sara, and she’d seen more than a few patients see great improvement with her help. So she had screwed up her courage, and managed to drag herself downtown to this rather comfortable, cheery office building.

“Ms. Colwitt?” The silence was broken by the receptionist, a pretty, if somewhat plain redhead. “Laura is ready to see you, if you’re ready.”

Sara took a steadying breath and gave a small thank-you, before getting out of the comfortable chair. So it was Laura, not Dr. Stringer. That aside, she still wasn’t sure she was ready. She steeled herself and slowly crossed the waiting room on unsteady feet. The door to the office was dark and heavy, balanced by the bright, shining brass knob. She knocked twice, so softly she thought she might not be heard.

“Come in, please,” came a gentle voice from behind the door. It was a woman’s voice, warm and soothing, but deep, almost motherly. Sara pushed the door open on recently oiled hinges. The office beyond was large and surprisingly inviting, well-aged leather furniture, well-loved books on expansive shelves, and light just a shade dimmer and more yellow than the waiting room. Dr. Stringer, or Laura, Sara mentally corrected, sat behind a large ornate wooden desk. She stood as Sara closed the door behind herself with a quiet click.

Sara’s first thought was that Laura was beautiful, almost take-your-breath-away beautiful, if she had swung that way. Her next thought was that she was indeed beautiful, but not in a way that felt intimidating. Laura was tall, clearing six feet by Sara’s guess, and sublimely proportioned, a pronounced hourglass figure with wide child-bearing hips, a slim waist, and broad, strong shoulders. She was dressed smartly, a slim-fitting grey blazer with a white shirt underneath, and a black skirt cut a hand’s-breadth above the knee, with long, well-muscled and toned creamy white legs. She smiled, and Sara returned a small, shy smile she didn’t think she had in her.

“Hi Sara, it’s so nice to meet you,” she said, her voice exuding a sincere warmth and wisdom. Laura crossed the room and approached with her hand outstretched. Up close, Laura seemed even taller than Sara had expected, at least six-two. She was also older than Sara had expected, perhaps 40, or a young 50. Her face was mostly smooth, with some crinkling of the skin at the outside of her eyes and mouth. Laugh lines, her mother had called them, and said they were a sign of joy and a good personality. Her blonde hair was streaked with strands of grey, though by Sara’s view they added dignity and maturity, rather than just age. She reached out and clasped Laura’s hand.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Doctor Stringer,” she said quietly, trying not to stammer. Her heart was racing. She was really here. To talk about sex. With a stranger.

“Or Laura,” she responded, “whatever you like. Can I take this off your hands?” she asked, gesturing to the manilla folder Sara clasped tightly. Sara handed it to her stiffly and without response. Laura smiled, and Sara saw those creases deepen. Perhaps her mother was right. “Why don’t you take a seat?”

Sara moved towards the large leather couch next to the door and sat to one side, nestling herself in the corner porno izle between the armrest and the back. Laura grabbed her wheeling desk chair and rolled it in front of her desk directly across from Sara and sat, manilla folder in hand. She crossed one long, strong leg over the other.

“So, Sara, would you like to tell me why you’ve come here today?”

Not really, was Sara’s gut-response, but she force her nerves down, a little. “Well my doctor called to set up the appointment, she should have told you-“

Laura cut her off with a gently raised hand. “I talked to your doctor, but I’d like to hear about it from your perspective.” She opened the manilla folder and thumbed through the tops of the pages, questing. She pulled out half of one and glanced over it. Sara recognized the page, the mandatory STI check her doctor had performed before making the appointment. She tested negative, of course. She felt herself blush, though Laura seemed unphased.

“Well you’ve got my questionnaire there, if you look at that-“

Again, Laura cut her off with a raised hand, partnered with a gentle smile. “I’ll look at most of this later,” she said, replacing the STI test results, “I want to hear from you, Sara. I know this is very uncomfortable right now, but I can only try to help you if you communicate with me directly, okay?”

Sara thought about this and swallowed hard. “Yeah. Okay.” she said, feeling somewhat chastened. “I’m here… because sex is- um, it scares me. I’ve never had a really good experience, I’m scared to be naked in front of people, and there’s so much pressure.” She let it pour out in a surprisingly cathartic stream.

“Sounds like an anxiety issue. Your doctor has prescribed you medication in the past, yes?”

Anxiety, yeah, no kidding, Sara thought, but held her tongue on that. “Yeah, five different brands, different dosages… they never did me any good. It’s not like it bothers me in other parts of my life, just this one…” She felt a little defensive, as though Laura didn’t believe her.

Almost on cue, Laura smiled and responded, “I believe you, Sara, I just don’t have all my notes in front of me right now. Just humour me for a moment and say it is an anxiety disorder.” Sara tried to agree with her for the moment. “Anxiety manifests in all kinds of ways. If it causes distress in one particular area, it’s called fixation. I know you’ve heard this before, I’m just thinking out loud here. If traditional psychiatry and psychopharmacology haven’t treated the root cause of the issue, then I think it’s time we look at learning how to cope.”

“Just cope?” Sara said, sounding a little more disappointed than she had intended.

“Sometimes it’s just enough to get over the hump of the anxiety itself, and sometimes it’s all you can do. If it is all you can do, then at least it should help you achieve some peace in the affected area. Does that make sense?”

Sara supposed it did. She nodded a little.

Laura unfolded, planting both strong, toned legs firmly on the ground. She opened the top of the manilla folder and pulled out a yellow form. Sara knew what that one was too. The one she was most scared of sharing. The carbon copy of her medical information her doctor had provided. Laura nodded to herself, then replaced the sheet. Sara braced herself for a question she was certain was coming.

Except, it didn’t. “Sara, did your doctor explain to you what makes me different from a regular psychiatrist?”

Sara nodded. “She said you were a sex therapist, and a regular psychiatrist, and uh…” Laura raised one finely-manicured eyebrow ever so slightly, urging her to continue, “and you’re allowed to, um… have… contact. With you patients.”

“That’s right. I’m part of a specially-qualified program researching sexual dysfunction and sex therapy.” She paused, then continued, “I am allowed to have sexual contact with my patients.” Sara felt herself go red in the face, but didn’t respond. Laura continued anyways, “If I think it’s necessary. But in the same way that a good psychiatrist won’t prescribe medication unless they think it’s very necessary, I tend to use that as another tool in my belt, and only if I think it’s the best way to help a patient progress.”

“Okay.” Sara said dumbly. She didn’t know what else to say. Laura continued to explain a little more about the program, mostly information her doctor had already given her, but Sara was far away. It was so surreal, being so near to someone who saw sex as a real possibility between the two of them, and for her to be returning the thoughts, however nervous it made her.

Laura ended the legal and scientific jargon, following up with a question, “I’m going to ask you a personal question, if you’re ready.” Sara nodded. “How often do you masturbate?”

The question was a punch in the face, knocking her out of the mental logic loops she was doing around her presence in a sex therapist’s office, and her sex therapist being so darn pretty. She felt her face flush again, but Laura gave no reaction. “Uhh, not a lot.”

“Once türkçe alt yazılı porno a week?”

“No.”

“Two weeks?”

“No.”

“Once a month?”

That didn’t sound quite right to Sara either, and in fact she couldn’t recall the last time she had masturbated. She wanted to end the line of questioning though, and felt a little pathetic in Laura’s eyes for taking this long to pin it down. “Yeah, about,” she replied.

Laura nodded thoughtfully, then stood up from her chair. The thought ran through Sara’s head that she was about to get jumped by this tall, strong woman, but instead she circled around behind her desk. “We’re almost out of time today, so I’ve got something for you to take home. Homework, you could call it,” she added with a wink, then bent over to reach something behind her desk, up against the wall. Only then did Sara notice Laura’s rather large, round ass, now stretching out her skirt quite neatly, and how the hem would rise slowly, inch by inch, revealing milky white thighs that were as thick and strong as the rest of her body, widening up beautifully towards-

Sara shook her head, scattering the thoughts to the ether, and turned, red-faced, to the opposite wall. Laura’s degrees hung next to a beautiful watercolor print of lilies. They were numerous, taking up ten square feet of wallspace. She couldn’t make them out from where she sat, but from what she could see, Laura had been schooled at prestigious universities all over the country. From the corner of her eye, she saw Laura had finally stood back up, turning to face her. She held a small box, wrapped in plain white paper. Walking back around the desk, she handed it to Sara. It was heavier than she had expected.

“I’d like you to do your best to make use of this. If you’ll come back next week, we can discuss it, and proceed as we see fit. If you don’t use it, or if you don’t want to come back, then you can mail it back to my office, or dispose of it.”

Sara took this as a cue to exit, and stood, opening her mouth to thank Laura for seeing her, but couldn’t quite find the words, instead flapping her mouth open and closed like a goldfish. Laura took Sara’s limp free hand from her side and clasped it in both of hers. Her hands were soft and warm. “It was very nice to meet you,” she said with a sincerity that surprised Sara, “I really hope you’ll come back next week. You can go out the way you came, or there’s a private exit back in the corner. The door on the right.”

Sara looked around, only now realizing that there were two other doors in the office, camouflaged by their being painted the same colour as the walls. She nodded dumbly and murmured a thank-you, then headed for the private exit, catching the delicate scent of Laura’s perfume, spring flowers or something equally bright and cheerful. She opened the door and found herself in a hospital-white hallway of concrete, a staircase at one end leading down. She followed it, footsteps echoing loudly, to a door with a push bar. Once opened, she was assaulted by the noise of the street outside. She had emerged on the street behind the office building she had entered. Relieve at the option of an easy exit, she hurried down the street, the box she had been given nestled in her arms, to find her car and head home.

________________

Sara left the box sitting on the kitchen counter for three days before she even looked at it again. Even then, she only moved it out of the way of some spilled coffee, and replaced it on the nightstand next to her bed. She didn’t want to open the box. She didn’t even really want to think about what she thought was probably in the box. As she lay in bed that night, she stared at its unassuming, plain white paper wrapping, and resolved to open it ‘sometime soon’. She didn’t want Laura to think she wasn’t taking this seriously. Her last thoughts before falling asleep that night were of Laura, bent over in her tight skirt.

She opened her eyes. She felt sick, and the world felt wrong. She sat up in bed and her room spun before her eyes, causing her stomach to spin with it. Sara heard a thump and a muffled voice from beyond her close bedroom door. Panicked, she tried to leap out of bed, to run out of her bedroom and past whoever had invaded her home, and across the hall to a neighbour’s home, or down the street to the police station. But her limbs wouldn’t respond, wouldn’t follow her commands no matter how much she mentally screamed at herself to do something, anything. Had she been drugged? She couldn’t remember anything unusual about her evening routine. The door swung open silently. Terrified, she could only stare into the blackness beyond.

Out of the darkness, though, stepped Laura. The fear subsided a little and was replaced with confusion, though fear still ran river-like beneath. She tried to speak, to question her sex therapist’s presence at her house in the middle of the night, but her tongue tangled itself up in her mouth. Slowly, Laura walked over to the side of the bed.

“I’m sorry if I scared you, türk porno Sara,” she said in the same soft, mothering tone she had presented at their appointment, “I didn’t mean to scare you.” She sat down on the bed next to Sara and began to rub her thigh with one delicate, graceful hand. Sara could only watch, unable to act. Laura leaned in towards her, and she caught the scent of her perfume.

“Let me make it better…” the beautiful doctor said, pursing her lips.

Sara opened her eyes again. Sunlight filtered in through the privacy shade on the windows. The air was a hair too warm, and she felt like she hadn’t slept at all.

“A dream…” she said with vocal cords that croaked, “what the fuck.”

She looked over at the clock across the room. 7:26am. Her day off. She preferred to sleep in on days like this. Sighing, she rolled over, intending to fall asleep for at least another hour. Instead, she almost rolled into her nightstand, coming face to face with the box she had been given. She stared at it for a long moment, contemplating her session with Laura, contemplating how she had made no real plans to open the box yet. Contemplating her dream about her sex therapist. It was rare that she had dreams she could remember at all. Rare still if she could make any sense of them. But this was the rarest dream of all for Sara. An arousing dream. She realized that the air in the room really wasn’t all that warm once she kicked the covers back a little. She was radiating heat, and feeling a little flush.

Slowly, she reached out for the box, felt its smooth-yet-textured surface under her fingers, and pulled it towards her. She sat up in bed, the box held between her knees and her chest. Finding a seam in the wrapping, she pulled it apart, trying not to make too much of a mess with the wrapping paper. Beneath the paper was a smooth, black, matte-finish container. She found a seam on one side and stuck a fingernail into it. She paused, considering whether she wanted to get into this now, ultimately deciding she had come too far not to at least see the contents. Before she could, however, a slip of paper slid from the back of the box onto the bed next to her. She picked up the note, catching the tiniest whiff of Laura’s perfume. A hand-written note read;

Dear Sara,

I’m glad you’ve opened this. It may not seem like much, but from everything your doctor has told me, getting this far on your own is a step in the right direction. There’s a small assortment of products in here, use whatever you feel most comfortable with, though I would recommend pushing a little bit outside of your comfort zone. I hope to see you again soon.

Laura

Sara dropped the note back on the bed where it had first fallen. She felt somehow more driven to actually open the box after reading the note.

Don’t want to disappoint Laura, she thought, slipping her nail back into the seam and prying the box opened. Sara felt the blood rush to her face. Inside the box was a foam insert, the kind assassins in movies always had their guns stored in, to display all the individual parts. Instead of a pistol, magazine, and silencer however, Sara found on one side of the box a slim tube with a button on the side that she took to be a vibrator, and something that looked a little like the wine stopper she had in her kitchen utensil drawer, only larger and pink. On the other side of the interior was a string of beads with a loop at one end, and next to it…

A fleshlight.

She only knew what it was because she had found one just like it in her older cousin’s sock drawer when she was little. She remembered how embarrassed and angry he was when she presented it, and how embarrassed she was when she looked it up on the internet later. Only now did she appreciate that her parents were too technologically inept back then to be able to check her browser history.

Sara pulled out the vibrator. It was silicone, and smooth to the touch. Simple and minimalistic, but functional, she figured. The wine stopper and the beads she left in their inserts. If she was going to do this, she didn’t want to get too crazy right off the bat. Besides, she had to figure out exactly what they were for, first. She spun the vibrator in her hand, surprised at herself for actually thinking about how best to use it, when she felt the heat from down below. She move the box from her lap to the bed beside her, and looked down. There, beneath the thin sheet of her bed, was a bulge she had never really gotten used to seeing. She pulled the sheet down, exposing her whole body down to her knees to the cool bedroom air. There it was, stuffed into her cute pink and blue panties, the ever-present guest that she blamed for holding back her romantic life for years. Sara’s penis was growing stiff at the thought of using the toys Laura had given her.

She had had morning wood before, plenty of times. She had been a teenager at one point, after all, but never before had it been felt quite so insistent. Her early-morning riser had always been manageable before. It was normally still mostly soft, and would disappear within about 30 seconds of waking up, before it would even properly register. This morning, though, it was decidedly firm, and growing harder by the minute. She could feel it shifting and growing under the smooth fabric of her panties, like a snake uncoiling after winter’s hibernation.

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Traduction d’une histoire de Jessiebnh.

Ce récit est une fiction contenant chantage, contraintes et humiliations. Ne continuez pas à lire si vous n’aimez pas.

******

Glen me lança un regard menaçant et il me poussa vers le canapé. Puis il me dit :

– Mes parents vont revenir de l’église dans moins d’une heure alors je te suggère de m’écouter si tu veux que les photos soient supprimées du site. Tu devrais faire ce que je te dis.

Soudainement, je réalisai pourquoi j’étais là : Les photos!

– Toutes les photos? Répondis-je.

– Pourquoi toutes les photos? Demanda Glen, un peu perplexe.

– le vin et la bière! Lâchai-je sans réfléchir.

– Ah oui l’alcool! La petite salope de professeur a acheté de la bière et du vin pour ses étudiants. Ce n’est pas bien hein?

Un sourire tordu apparut sur le visage du garçon.

– Elles doivent toutes être supprimées! Demandai-je sans vouloir poursuivre la discussion sur le sujet.

– D’accord! Toutes! Mais es-tu prête à faire tout ce que je te dis?

Glen se léchait les lèvres et me regardait d’un air méchant.

– Comment puis-je savoir si je peux te faire confiance? Répondis-je tout en sachant qu’il avait toutes les cartes en main.

– Je crois que tu n’as pas le choix de toute façon. Mais un marché est un marché, tu fais ce que je veux et je fais ce que tu veux, c’est gagnant-gagnant.

– Qu’est-ce que je dois faire?

Le regard de Glen me transperçait et me donnait des frissons. Il sourit vicieusement et me dit d’une voix très calme tout en s’approchant de moi :

– Tu dois devenir ma salope, prête à être utilisée comme je le souhaite.

Sans vraiment réfléchir, je laissai échapper :

– Pendant combien de temps?

– Un mois. Trente jours à partir d’aujourd’hui si tu es libre. Ensuite les photos seront détruites et nous continuerons nos vies comme si rien ne s’était passé.

– Non je ne suis pas d’accord. Je veux que les photos soient retirées du site MAINTENANT! Répondis-je courageusement.

Glen commença à jouer avec mes cheveux et à me caresser le visage. J’essayai de rester immobile mais ses yeux devinrent captivants. Je ne pouvais plus détourner mon regard.

– Pas türkçe alt yazılı porno de problème! Je peux désactiver le lien du barbecue et de la petite fête d’hier. Seuls toi et moi sommes au courant. Lorsque le mois sera écoulé, les photos seront détruites…A moins que tu ne veuilles des souvenirs de moi.

Maintenant Glen tenait mon menton et me regardait dans les yeux. J’étais captivée. Je n’avais jamais connu un homme aussi fort et autoritaire.

– Ok, que veux-tu? Murmurai-je.

Glen me regarda. Je savais qu’il jouait avec moi. Il ressemblait à un enfant le matin de Noël. Son excitation commençait à se propager.

– Montre-moi tes seins!

Sans que je ne sache vraiment pourquoi, cette demande obscène me sembla sans gravité, voire raisonnable. Je remontai mon haut de survêtement et ma poitrine fut exposée. Il sourit et regarda sa récompense. Je me rendis compte que mon corps avait un peu de pouvoir sur cet homme fort et agressif, alors qu’il se tenait devant moi, dévorant mes seins du regard.

Puis, Glen regarda sa montre et parut impatient. Il me dit :

– Ok, voici le marché! Tu te déshabilles, tu t’assois sur le canapé et tu te branles la chatte jusqu’à ce que tu jouisses. Je te laisse vingt minutes pour le faire. Ensuite tu te rhabilles et tu pars. Si tu y arrives, je retirerai immédiatement le lien. Si ce n’est pas le cas il restera jusqu’à ce que tu réussisses une tâche que je te donnerai par la suite. C’est facile pour une salope comme toi.

Je commençai à paniquer. Je n’avais jamais d’orgasme quand Mike me faisait l’amour. Et si je n’arrivais pas à jouir? Comme s’il lisait dans mes pensées, Glen ajouta :

– Ah oui, n’essaie pas de faire semblant. Je le verrai si tu simules. Et si tu te moques de moi, je supprimerai le mot de passe au lien d’enlever le lien.

Je suis resté immobile à le regarder. A ce stade mon esprit était engourdi. Glen me lança un regard agacé et montra sa montre en disant :

– Tu n’as plus que 18 minutes maintenant. Tu as ton avenir entre tes mains… Ou plutôt entre tes doigts devrais-je dire!

Il s’assit sur la chaise juste en face du canapé. Immédiatement je commençai türk porno à retirer mon survêtement. J’étais mortifiée d’être venue chez lui sans sous-vêtements. A quoi pensais-je? Je suis sûre que mon visage était aussi rouge que de la betterave. J’enlevai maladroitement mon pantalon et je me laissai tomber sur le canapé.

Soudain, je réalisai que je devais me masturber devant ce garçon. Etre nue était moins gênant par rapport à ça. Je ne m’étais jamais masturbée devant mon mari. Je fus remplie de honte. Je gardai mes jambes serrées et je mis ma main sur mon vagin.

– Non salope! pas comme ça!

Glen se leva de sa chaise et attrapa mes jambes. Il mit mes pieds sur le canapé en m’ouvrant les cuisses et exposant ainsi mon sexe.

– Comme ça! Dit le garçon avec un petit rire.

Il retourna à sa chaise et fixa ma chatte qui s’était humidifiée.

Je fermai les yeux et je commençai à me caresser. J’étais gênée de voir à quel point je mouillais et comment j’étais excitée devant ce jeune garçon dominant. Je commençai à sentir le plaisir monter dans mon bassin ainsi que l’humidité qui s’échappait de ma chatte. Mes doigts titillaient légèrement mon clitoris alors que mon autre main écartait mes petites lèvres pour ajouter à mon plaisir. Je réalisai que je montrai à ce jeune gars mon intimité et comment je me touchais. Cette pensée accéléra mes doigts mais c’était plus frénétique que plaisant. Je voulais jouir oui, mais je le voulais surtout pour que Glen enlève les photos qui me discréditeraient aux yeux de nos amis et de nos voisins. Mais je me suis bientôt sentie bloquée. Je ressentais du plaisir mais je ne pouvais faire plus.

Quand j’ouvris les yeux, je vis que Glen était debout. Il avait ouvert sa braguette et sortit sa queue. Sans aucune raison ça m’excita encore plus que s’il avait été complétement nu. Sa bite semblait plus imposante que sur la photo que j’avais regardé ce matin. Le gland était rouge et d’apparence moyenne. Il caressait lentement son membre en me regardant me tripoter la chatte.

Je ne pus détacher mes yeux de ce joli membre. A ce moment, cette bite était la seule au monde. Je commençai à fourrer trois doigts à l’intérieur porn de mon vagin tandis que je continuai à frotter énergiquement mon clitoris.

C’est alors que je sentis dans mon ventre comme une tension immense. C’était incroyable, il fallait que je me libère de cette tension. J’entendis les chuintements de mes doigts pendant que je les poussais plus profondément à l’intérieur de mon vagin. La main de Glen bougeait sur sa bite au rythme de mes doigts. Mon autre main devint floue sur mon clitoris.

C’est alors que je l’ai senti. Mon Dieu, quelle sensation! Mes jambes se levèrent et je les écartai le plus largement possible. Je ne réfléchis même pas à la position dans laquelle j’étais, je voulais juste être libérée. Je sentis un début de picotement dans mes orteils qui remonta directement jusque dans ma chatte. Je criai quand je jouis, en jetant toutes sortes de gros mots comme « putain » ou « merde ». Je fus choquée quand je compris à quel point j’étais obscène. Mes yeux étaient vitreux et je voyais flou la grosse bite à seulement quelques centimètres de moi.

Puis j’entendis Glen gémir et une décharge de sperme s’échappa de sa queue et m’éclaboussa. Mon orgasme s’intensifia quand son sperme chaud et gluant frappa mes seins. Mon corps eut des convulsions et pendant quelques secondes je ne sus où j’étais.

Glen tomba à genoux et commença à me lécher la chatte. Je ressentis plusieurs petites répliques de mon orgasme alors qu’il s’activait. J’étais au Paradis. Je n’avais jamais eu dans toute ma vie une telle expérience, un tel orgasme. Finalement j’en eus assez. Je berçai la tête de Glen entre mes mains et nous nous regardâmes dans les yeux.

– Ai-je réussi? Demandai-je dans un chuchotement rauque.

– Avec brio salope! Répondit Glen en se relevant.

Il attrapa mon bas et mon haut de survêtement et il me les jeta alors que j’étais affalée comme une poupée de chiffon sur le canapé.

– Habille toi et va-t’en! Commanda-t-il.

– Mais je suis toute…

Glen me coupa :

– Je viens de te marquer. Tu vas ramener mon sperme chez toi pour montrer que tu es maintenant ma salope mariée vide-couilles.

Pendant que je m’habillai, je demandai docilement à Glen pour les photos. Il m’assura qu’il effacerait le lien dès que je sortirai de chez lui.

Tout d’un coup, je craignis que ses parents arrivent et me voient sortir de leur maison couverte de sperme. Alors je me précipitai dans ma voiture et je rentrai chez moi en pensant aux prochains vingt-neuf jours.

A suivre…

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Hi all! This is my first submission to LitErotica, and a fairly unpolished piece. I just wanted to test the waters and see if anyone was interested in this, or wanted to see more. Not a lot of explicit content, but if interest serves, there will be more later. Comments appreciated, and thanks for reading!

________________

Sara sat totally, perfectly still in the leather wingback chair positioned in the corner of the waiting room. The silence of the waiting room was absolute, save for the occasional click-clack of a keyboard from behind the tall reception desk, and even that only served to accentuate how heavy the quiet sat upon her. Sara stared intensely at the sealed manilla envelope on her lap. Inside was a small stack of papers, mostly insurance and medical forms, but which also included a couple two pages with some rather probing, personal questions. The former she had filled out the day her doctor had handed them to her. She was very efficient that way. The latter, however, she had put off until right before going to bed the night before. She didn’t really want to answer those questions, and in fact she had been told that she didn’t have to, but they were the reason she was here in the first place. So instead, she had allowed them to torment her for the past two weeks, ever since her doctor had made an appointment for her. The business card she had been handed sat heavily in the breast pocket of her jacket since then as well.

Doctor Laura Stringer, MD, PHD

Then below that;

Sex therapist – Individuals, couples, and group therapy;

and then the address and phone number below that. Sara was endlessly grateful, if a bit taken back initially, that her doctor was kind and thoughtful enough to set up this optional appointment for her. Even more grateful that it was covered by her insurance. Doctor Stringer was an old friend, she told Sara, and she’d seen more than a few patients see great improvement with her help. So she had screwed up her courage, and managed to drag herself downtown to this rather comfortable, cheery office building.

“Ms. Colwitt?” The silence was broken by the receptionist, a pretty, if somewhat plain redhead. “Laura is ready to see you, if you’re ready.”

Sara took a steadying breath and gave a small thank-you, before getting out of the comfortable chair. So it was Laura, not Dr. Stringer. That aside, she still wasn’t sure she was ready. She steeled herself and slowly crossed the waiting room on unsteady feet. The door to the office was dark and heavy, balanced by the bright, shining brass knob. She knocked twice, so softly she thought she might not be heard.

“Come in, please,” came a gentle voice from behind the door. It was a woman’s voice, warm and soothing, but deep, almost motherly. Sara pushed the door open on recently oiled hinges. The office beyond was large and surprisingly inviting, well-aged leather furniture, well-loved books on expansive shelves, and light just a shade dimmer and more yellow than the waiting room. Dr. Stringer, or Laura, Sara mentally corrected, sat behind a large ornate wooden desk. She stood as Sara closed the door behind herself with a quiet click.

Sara’s first thought was that Laura was beautiful, almost take-your-breath-away beautiful, if she had swung that way. Her next thought was that she was indeed beautiful, but not in a way that felt intimidating. Laura was tall, clearing six feet by Sara’s guess, and sublimely proportioned, a pronounced hourglass figure with wide child-bearing hips, a slim waist, and broad, strong shoulders. She was dressed smartly, a slim-fitting grey blazer with a white shirt underneath, and a black skirt cut a hand’s-breadth above the knee, with long, well-muscled and toned creamy white legs. She smiled, and Sara returned a small, shy smile she didn’t think she had in her.

“Hi Sara, it’s so nice to meet you,” she said, her voice exuding a sincere warmth and wisdom. Laura crossed the room and approached with her hand outstretched. Up close, Laura seemed even taller than Sara had expected, at least six-two. She was also older than Sara had expected, perhaps 40, or a young 50. Her face was mostly smooth, with some crinkling of the skin at the outside of her eyes and mouth. Laugh lines, her mother had called them, and said they were a sign of joy and a good personality. Her blonde hair was streaked with strands of grey, though by Sara’s view they added dignity and maturity, rather than just age. She reached out and clasped Laura’s hand.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Doctor Stringer,” she said quietly, trying not to stammer. Her heart was racing. She was really here. To talk about sex. With a stranger.

“Or Laura,” she responded, “whatever you like. Can I take this off your hands?” she asked, gesturing to the manilla folder Sara clasped tightly. Sara handed it to her stiffly and without response. Laura smiled, and Sara saw those creases deepen. Perhaps her mother was right. “Why don’t you take a seat?”

Sara moved towards the large leather couch next to the door and sat to one side, nestling herself in the corner porno izle between the armrest and the back. Laura grabbed her wheeling desk chair and rolled it in front of her desk directly across from Sara and sat, manilla folder in hand. She crossed one long, strong leg over the other.

“So, Sara, would you like to tell me why you’ve come here today?”

Not really, was Sara’s gut-response, but she force her nerves down, a little. “Well my doctor called to set up the appointment, she should have told you-“

Laura cut her off with a gently raised hand. “I talked to your doctor, but I’d like to hear about it from your perspective.” She opened the manilla folder and thumbed through the tops of the pages, questing. She pulled out half of one and glanced over it. Sara recognized the page, the mandatory STI check her doctor had performed before making the appointment. She tested negative, of course. She felt herself blush, though Laura seemed unphased.

“Well you’ve got my questionnaire there, if you look at that-“

Again, Laura cut her off with a raised hand, partnered with a gentle smile. “I’ll look at most of this later,” she said, replacing the STI test results, “I want to hear from you, Sara. I know this is very uncomfortable right now, but I can only try to help you if you communicate with me directly, okay?”

Sara thought about this and swallowed hard. “Yeah. Okay.” she said, feeling somewhat chastened. “I’m here… because sex is- um, it scares me. I’ve never had a really good experience, I’m scared to be naked in front of people, and there’s so much pressure.” She let it pour out in a surprisingly cathartic stream.

“Sounds like an anxiety issue. Your doctor has prescribed you medication in the past, yes?”

Anxiety, yeah, no kidding, Sara thought, but held her tongue on that. “Yeah, five different brands, different dosages… they never did me any good. It’s not like it bothers me in other parts of my life, just this one…” She felt a little defensive, as though Laura didn’t believe her.

Almost on cue, Laura smiled and responded, “I believe you, Sara, I just don’t have all my notes in front of me right now. Just humour me for a moment and say it is an anxiety disorder.” Sara tried to agree with her for the moment. “Anxiety manifests in all kinds of ways. If it causes distress in one particular area, it’s called fixation. I know you’ve heard this before, I’m just thinking out loud here. If traditional psychiatry and psychopharmacology haven’t treated the root cause of the issue, then I think it’s time we look at learning how to cope.”

“Just cope?” Sara said, sounding a little more disappointed than she had intended.

“Sometimes it’s just enough to get over the hump of the anxiety itself, and sometimes it’s all you can do. If it is all you can do, then at least it should help you achieve some peace in the affected area. Does that make sense?”

Sara supposed it did. She nodded a little.

Laura unfolded, planting both strong, toned legs firmly on the ground. She opened the top of the manilla folder and pulled out a yellow form. Sara knew what that one was too. The one she was most scared of sharing. The carbon copy of her medical information her doctor had provided. Laura nodded to herself, then replaced the sheet. Sara braced herself for a question she was certain was coming.

Except, it didn’t. “Sara, did your doctor explain to you what makes me different from a regular psychiatrist?”

Sara nodded. “She said you were a sex therapist, and a regular psychiatrist, and uh…” Laura raised one finely-manicured eyebrow ever so slightly, urging her to continue, “and you’re allowed to, um… have… contact. With you patients.”

“That’s right. I’m part of a specially-qualified program researching sexual dysfunction and sex therapy.” She paused, then continued, “I am allowed to have sexual contact with my patients.” Sara felt herself go red in the face, but didn’t respond. Laura continued anyways, “If I think it’s necessary. But in the same way that a good psychiatrist won’t prescribe medication unless they think it’s very necessary, I tend to use that as another tool in my belt, and only if I think it’s the best way to help a patient progress.”

“Okay.” Sara said dumbly. She didn’t know what else to say. Laura continued to explain a little more about the program, mostly information her doctor had already given her, but Sara was far away. It was so surreal, being so near to someone who saw sex as a real possibility between the two of them, and for her to be returning the thoughts, however nervous it made her.

Laura ended the legal and scientific jargon, following up with a question, “I’m going to ask you a personal question, if you’re ready.” Sara nodded. “How often do you masturbate?”

The question was a punch in the face, knocking her out of the mental logic loops she was doing around her presence in a sex therapist’s office, and her sex therapist being so darn pretty. She felt her face flush again, but Laura gave no reaction. “Uhh, not a lot.” türkçe alt yazılı porno

“Once a week?”

“No.”

“Two weeks?”

“No.”

“Once a month?”

That didn’t sound quite right to Sara either, and in fact she couldn’t recall the last time she had masturbated. She wanted to end the line of questioning though, and felt a little pathetic in Laura’s eyes for taking this long to pin it down. “Yeah, about,” she replied.

Laura nodded thoughtfully, then stood up from her chair. The thought ran through Sara’s head that she was about to get jumped by this tall, strong woman, but instead she circled around behind her desk. “We’re almost out of time today, so I’ve got something for you to take home. Homework, you could call it,” she added with a wink, then bent over to reach something behind her desk, up against the wall. Only then did Sara notice Laura’s rather large, round ass, now stretching out her skirt quite neatly, and how the hem would rise slowly, inch by inch, revealing milky white thighs that were as thick and strong as the rest of her body, widening up beautifully towards-

Sara shook her head, scattering the thoughts to the ether, and turned, red-faced, to the opposite wall. Laura’s degrees hung next to a beautiful watercolor print of lilies. They were numerous, taking up ten square feet of wallspace. She couldn’t make them out from where she sat, but from what she could see, Laura had been schooled at prestigious universities all over the country. From the corner of her eye, she saw Laura had finally stood back up, turning to face her. She held a small box, wrapped in plain white paper. Walking back around the desk, she handed it to Sara. It was heavier than she had expected.

“I’d like you to do your best to make use of this. If you’ll come back next week, we can discuss it, and proceed as we see fit. If you don’t use it, or if you don’t want to come back, then you can mail it back to my office, or dispose of it.”

Sara took this as a cue to exit, and stood, opening her mouth to thank Laura for seeing her, but couldn’t quite find the words, instead flapping her mouth open and closed like a goldfish. Laura took Sara’s limp free hand from her side and clasped it in both of hers. Her hands were soft and warm. “It was very nice to meet you,” she said with a sincerity that surprised Sara, “I really hope you’ll come back next week. You can go out the way you came, or there’s a private exit back in the corner. The door on the right.”

Sara looked around, only now realizing that there were two other doors in the office, camouflaged by their being painted the same colour as the walls. She nodded dumbly and murmured a thank-you, then headed for the private exit, catching the delicate scent of Laura’s perfume, spring flowers or something equally bright and cheerful. She opened the door and found herself in a hospital-white hallway of concrete, a staircase at one end leading down. She followed it, footsteps echoing loudly, to a door with a push bar. Once opened, she was assaulted by the noise of the street outside. She had emerged on the street behind the office building she had entered. Relieve at the option of an easy exit, she hurried down the street, the box she had been given nestled in her arms, to find her car and head home.

________________

Sara left the box sitting on the kitchen counter for three days before she even looked at it again. Even then, she only moved it out of the way of some spilled coffee, and replaced it on the nightstand next to her bed. She didn’t want to open the box. She didn’t even really want to think about what she thought was probably in the box. As she lay in bed that night, she stared at its unassuming, plain white paper wrapping, and resolved to open it ‘sometime soon’. She didn’t want Laura to think she wasn’t taking this seriously. Her last thoughts before falling asleep that night were of Laura, bent over in her tight skirt.

She opened her eyes. She felt sick, and the world felt wrong. She sat up in bed and her room spun before her eyes, causing her stomach to spin with it. Sara heard a thump and a muffled voice from beyond her close bedroom door. Panicked, she tried to leap out of bed, to run out of her bedroom and past whoever had invaded her home, and across the hall to a neighbour’s home, or down the street to the police station. But her limbs wouldn’t respond, wouldn’t follow her commands no matter how much she mentally screamed at herself to do something, anything. Had she been drugged? She couldn’t remember anything unusual about her evening routine. The door swung open silently. Terrified, she could only stare into the blackness beyond.

Out of the darkness, though, stepped Laura. The fear subsided a little and was replaced with confusion, though fear still ran river-like beneath. She tried to speak, to question her sex therapist’s presence at her house in the middle of the night, but her tongue tangled itself up in her mouth. Slowly, Laura walked over to the side of the bed.

“I’m türk porno sorry if I scared you, Sara,” she said in the same soft, mothering tone she had presented at their appointment, “I didn’t mean to scare you.” She sat down on the bed next to Sara and began to rub her thigh with one delicate, graceful hand. Sara could only watch, unable to act. Laura leaned in towards her, and she caught the scent of her perfume.

“Let me make it better…” the beautiful doctor said, pursing her lips.

Sara opened her eyes again. Sunlight filtered in through the privacy shade on the windows. The air was a hair too warm, and she felt like she hadn’t slept at all.

“A dream…” she said with vocal cords that croaked, “what the fuck.”

She looked over at the clock across the room. 7:26am. Her day off. She preferred to sleep in on days like this. Sighing, she rolled over, intending to fall asleep for at least another hour. Instead, she almost rolled into her nightstand, coming face to face with the box she had been given. She stared at it for a long moment, contemplating her session with Laura, contemplating how she had made no real plans to open the box yet. Contemplating her dream about her sex therapist. It was rare that she had dreams she could remember at all. Rare still if she could make any sense of them. But this was the rarest dream of all for Sara. An arousing dream. She realized that the air in the room really wasn’t all that warm once she kicked the covers back a little. She was radiating heat, and feeling a little flush.

Slowly, she reached out for the box, felt its smooth-yet-textured surface under her fingers, and pulled it towards her. She sat up in bed, the box held between her knees and her chest. Finding a seam in the wrapping, she pulled it apart, trying not to make too much of a mess with the wrapping paper. Beneath the paper was a smooth, black, matte-finish container. She found a seam on one side and stuck a fingernail into it. She paused, considering whether she wanted to get into this now, ultimately deciding she had come too far not to at least see the contents. Before she could, however, a slip of paper slid from the back of the box onto the bed next to her. She picked up the note, catching the tiniest whiff of Laura’s perfume. A hand-written note read;

Dear Sara,

I’m glad you’ve opened this. It may not seem like much, but from everything your doctor has told me, getting this far on your own is a step in the right direction. There’s a small assortment of products in here, use whatever you feel most comfortable with, though I would recommend pushing a little bit outside of your comfort zone. I hope to see you again soon.

Laura

Sara dropped the note back on the bed where it had first fallen. She felt somehow more driven to actually open the box after reading the note.

Don’t want to disappoint Laura, she thought, slipping her nail back into the seam and prying the box opened. Sara felt the blood rush to her face. Inside the box was a foam insert, the kind assassins in movies always had their guns stored in, to display all the individual parts. Instead of a pistol, magazine, and silencer however, Sara found on one side of the box a slim tube with a button on the side that she took to be a vibrator, and something that looked a little like the wine stopper she had in her kitchen utensil drawer, only larger and pink. On the other side of the interior was a string of beads with a loop at one end, and next to it…

A fleshlight.

She only knew what it was because she had found one just like it in her older cousin’s sock drawer when she was little. She remembered how embarrassed and angry he was when she presented it, and how embarrassed she was when she looked it up on the internet later. Only now did she appreciate that her parents were too technologically inept back then to be able to check her browser history.

Sara pulled out the vibrator. It was silicone, and smooth to the touch. Simple and minimalistic, but functional, she figured. The wine stopper and the beads she left in their inserts. If she was going to do this, she didn’t want to get too crazy right off the bat. Besides, she had to figure out exactly what they were for, first. She spun the vibrator in her hand, surprised at herself for actually thinking about how best to use it, when she felt the heat from down below. She move the box from her lap to the bed beside her, and looked down. There, beneath the thin sheet of her bed, was a bulge she had never really gotten used to seeing. She pulled the sheet down, exposing her whole body down to her knees to the cool bedroom air. There it was, stuffed into her cute pink and blue panties, the ever-present guest that she blamed for holding back her romantic life for years. Sara’s penis was growing stiff at the thought of using the toys Laura had given her.

She had had morning wood before, plenty of times. She had been a teenager at one point, after all, but never before had it been felt quite so insistent. Her early-morning riser had always been manageable before. It was normally still mostly soft, and would disappear within about 30 seconds of waking up, before it would even properly register. This morning, though, it was decidedly firm, and growing harder by the minute. She could feel it shifting and growing under the smooth fabric of her panties, like a snake uncoiling after winter’s hibernation.

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Jilly had been running a sort of guest house for nearly two years. She didn’t need to do it but the money had come in handy and she’d been reasonably successful.

After the first six months of operation, she’d only had five or six clients (which was fine) but had decided to sign up with AirBnB. In truth, she hadn’t really increased her turnover of guests but they were now a slightly more varied and interesting bunch.

Just before she’d started her B no doubt overwhelmed with the situation had been a little limp for a variety of reasons.

His name was Kenny but he went under the pseudonym ‘Mr Chocolate Blue Eyez’ (the name under which he modelled: His dark skin and ice-chip blue eyes made him look dangerous and he had vast experience at photoshoots.)

One of the many understandable reasons for the limited success was Jilly’s insistence on the use of condoms (she had, understandably, refused to go bareback with a total stranger) but part of her had wondered if this relatively young, virile and well endowed man hadn’t found her as attractive as her boyfriend clearly did.

Though she had dismissed the whole experience and attempted to banish it from her memory, it had continued to bother her more than she was willing to admit to herself or her boyfriend who had maintained contact with this ‘BBC’, occasionally promising him a ‘rematch’ and offering him some Viagra style pills to keep him hard for an entire night. Jilly was not keen but part of her, very deep down and well hidden, wanted the chance to prove herself, particularly as she now felt lean of body; empowered by a new eating and exercise regime and looking and feeling stronger than she had for a decade.

Her boyfriend had suggested, on many and numerous occasions, that they share another session but THIS time at her house where (he insisted) it would have a more relaxed atmosphere, they wouldn’t be chased out of the rooms at cleaning time and crucially it wouldn’t cost him any more money. Jilly was steadfast in her denial. There was no way she was allowing this particular ‘BBC’ over her threshold. He had, in her estimation, ‘disrespected’ her by not being available to fuck her all night.

Added to that, she didn’t want him knowing where she lived.

To that, her boyfriend assured her quite accurately that he already knew her address and this proved (he insisted) that he was trustworthy and not a weird stalker-type.

In the past two months, her and her boyfriend had tried a ‘multiple partner’ session and had enjoyed a very satisfying foursome with two hugely impressive guys and she was now waiting for another opportunity to experience something like that again.

Meanwhile, by way of a ‘thank you’ her boyfriend had been plying her with gifts of clothes and she was happily strutting around the town in her latest presents whenever she could.

When the gifts arrived, her boyfriend would always follow up with a slightly controlling message that read something like, ‘I’ve bought you all this stuff. I own you, you know that, right?’

The last time they’d met, he’d once again suggested that they rekindle their BBC interest with Kenny and invite him to her home. Again, she’d pushed back strongly and said that she wouldn’t want a stranger in his house.

“You have strangers in your house all the time!”

“What do you mean?”

“AirBnB! Those people are complete strangers and…”

There was silence for a moment as they stared at each other.

“Okay. Never mind. Forget it.”

He didn’t seem stroppy or upset. He had just decided, it seemed, to suddenly lose interest.

The subject was dropped and they ventured upstairs to make love.

Their relationship was complicated and yet simple. They met for sex but the interplay between them was deep and based on an intimate understanding. He wanted to control her and, weirdly for someone so strong, she wanted to be controlled. He bought her clothes and had, a few months’ previously, had a CCTV camera installed in her bedroom so that he could observe her at any time of the day. Rather than finding this intrusive and creepy, she found it comforting and flattering.

During their love-making, he would make sure to get the best angles in relation to the camera for his viewing pleasure later on.

Day One – Jilly

A few days later, I was checking my emails when my inbox ‘pinged’ to signify a message had arrived. It was from AirBnB to say that a potential guest had made an enquiry. I clicked on the link and my eyes widened. There, staring at me from the screen was Kenny; Mr Chocolate Blue Eyez. He was enquiring as to the availability of my room this coming Friday.

‘Hi

I am going to a work’s ‘do’ on Friday and wanted to hopefully leave work, find somewhere nice to stay (to shower and get cleaned up) before venturing in to town and then not having to catch a late night bus home (or worse, walk!)

Your place looks perfect and though it’s a little above my budget, I thought I may as well treat myself as it’s also my birthday soon!

I fatih escort bayan hope you can fit me in.

Yours

Ken’

I stared at the screen; ideas racing through my head; trying to figure out what this was.

It could be genuine, I pondered. Perhaps he had no idea who I was and he simply wanted to rent the room exactly as he’d described.

Alternatively, (and more likely, I thought) he knew exactly who I was and wanted to finally find his way back into close proximity (and why wouldn’t he? I was feeling and looking amazing these days!)

Then suddenly it struck me. This was my boyfriend’s idea of a joke. He was impersonating him and trying to wind me up. This had his fingerprints all over it, in fact. He had often played practical jokes on me and I started to relax and then started to giggle a little. He was incorrigible.

So I decided to play along.

Dear ‘Ken’

Yes, the room is free that night and you’re in luck as I’m happy to offer you a half price reduction provided you’re willing to dispense with breakfast. And as a goodwill gesture (seeing as it’s your birthday soon!) I’m perfectly willing to tuck you in! Ha ha ha

I look forward to receiving your ‘confirmation’ soon.

Regards

Jilly

I re-read it twice and, satisfied that this was in fact NOT someone called Kenny but my mischievous boyfriend, pressed ‘send.’

No reply came and I went to bed and slept a little fitfully.

Day One – The Puppet Master.

Ken and I had been in fairly constant contact over the past weeks. I had insisted to him that I was working on a plan and just needed the right opportunity. I even said that I ‘guaranteed’ that he’d be fucking our MILF before the year was out.

“Those are brave words!” Ken had written back.

“But I look forward to laying my hands on the bitch again soon. From the pictures and videos of her from her bedroom (how the fuck did you persuade her to have CCTV put in her room?) she’s looking fit, toned and ready to experience some Ken magic!!”

But the email I finally had sent to her was without Ken’s consent. All I knew was that Ken was free this coming Friday night and I had told Ken to keep it that way.

“I have a plan, my man!”

My email was polite and direct and I was grinning as I composed it on behalf of my living and breathing ‘friend’.

Her reply was a little surprising but showed that she believed me to be posing as Ken. That was fine. I half expected an email from her (directly to my personal inbox) telling me what a great joke it was but none came. So I decided to wait before sending a reply on Ken’s behalf to let her stew.

However, a few hours later, I sent an email directly from me making no mention of it (of course) and instead focussing on my plans for her and me in the future AND alluding to the fact that I was unavailable this coming weekend.

Hopefully, she would perhaps start to worry just a little.

Day Two – Jilly

Later the next day came the reply.

Hi Jilly

Wow! I don’t really know what to say! That’s incredibly generous. Though I’m disappointed not to get the breakfast (all the reviews say it is one of the main reasons to stay!) I’m delighted with the reduction in price as I was struggling to justify it to myself.

Tucking me in will be a bonus but I’m sure that was a joke (though I may still hold you to it! LOL!)

Please book me in. I’ll be arriving just after 6pm on Friday.

Regards

Ken

ps. Can I please check the house rules with regard to a last-minute, additional guest? I’d rather know in advance.

I stared at this and re-read it several times. My stomach started to cramp a little as I began to consider that this was in fact NOT my boyfriend. Could it actually be genuine?

“Oh fuck!” I said out loud.

I considered what to do next. I could make up an excuse and cancel but I was a stickler for the rules and as the room had said ‘available’ online, I felt I couldn’t just suddenly make it unavailable. Alternatively, I could let it play out.

I decided to contact my boyfriend and ask him outright.

I wrote a terse and direct email telling him that the joke had gone far enough.

His reply (as always) was fairly instantaneous.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I haven’t spoken to Ken for weeks. And what joke?”

“Oh fuck!” I said out loud again and I couldn’t help but be a little cross with him as it was him who’d made the introductions in the first place.

I spent the rest of the day pondering my predicament and after much consideration, decided I would have to let it play out. I would be the perfect hostess but promised myself that I wouldn’t lead him on, so decided to ‘dress down’ as opposed to dressing to impress.

I smirked to myself.

The very fact I was thinking about it meant I’d probably end up doing exactly the opposite ESPECIALLY if my boyfriend became involved now that I’d told him what was happening.

I istanbul bayan escort wrote back.

Dear Ken

I’m looking forward to hosting you.

The house rules are fairly strict I’m afraid so if you ‘get lucky’ on your night out, you may have to make other arrangements. But thank you for being so considerate in asking! Most people wouldn’t bother.

Perhaps, if you have had to say goodnight to someone for whom you had ‘bedroom plans’, me tucking you in would be a mistake! Ha ha. (and yes, it was a joke!)

I attach the link for payment.

See you after 6pm on Friday.

Yours,

Jilly.

Within 15 minutes, I had confirmation of payment. The die had been cast.

Day Two – The Puppet Master.

My reply on behalf of Ken (I felt) was perfectly weighted; striking the perfect balance of light -hearted flirtatiousness as well as stating ‘Ken’s’ intention to bring someone back with him given half a chance.

I knew her so well that these statements would make her ‘up’ her game and think, ‘how dare he (Ken) think about bringing someone back to my house when I’m the most attractive woman he’ll meet, period!’

I knew that she’d now be mentally running through what to wear and how to act to show Ken that she was the only woman worth fucking even though she’d deny it.

Within a few minutes, my own, personal email account was buzzing with indignation and a little panic.

Dear Boyfriend

Okay. The joke’s gone far enough. I know you’re posing as ‘Kenny/Chocolate’. Enough is enough. I have a good mind to book it in and make you pay!!

Yours (annoyed but still desperate to see you!)

Jilly

I read it and laughed out loud at her obvious panic. Before I replied, I tried to consider all the angles and what her true concerns were should this scenario actually be genuine (which I hoped it soon would be!)

I wrote back, denying all knowledge and asked her to explain what was going on.

Dear Boyfriend.

Out of the blue yesterday, someone called Kenny contacted me. His profile picture was…him! The one we had our threesome with! Fuck!!

He wanted to book the room in my house as he has a work’s ‘do’. He didn’t allude to knowing who I was and I assumed it was you playing a joke but it would appear not! WTF?

What should I do? I’ve said all along I don’t want him in the house and now…!

I’ll have to think what to do. I suppose I can say I’m going away suddenly. I don’t know.

x

I wrote back, trying to force the last piece of the jigsaw in place.

Dear Jilly

Firstly, Ken’s a really good lad. I’ve always said so, haven’t I?

From what you’ve said, he just doesn’t want to have to schlep all the way home after work to then come back into town and then have to get a night bus home. My guess that he doesn’t even know that it’s you.

Having said that, can you imagine his face when you open the door in some fantastically short skirt and high heels and show him to his room? Delicious doesn’t really cover it!! In fact, you look so fucking hot at the moment that he’ll probably pass on the work’s ‘do’ and say he just fancies a night in!

And if you look as stunning as you always do, he will definitely be wanting to make a midnight visit to you to show his appreciation for the half price room!! (I can’t believe you of all people suggested that! Unless, subconsciously you WANTED him to have an excuse to book!)

I think you should let him come and stay. You never know, you might end up urging him to try a different bed!!

I wish I could stay too so that we could have an all-night threesome but I’m, unfortunately, tied up.

Take care (and ‘let the poor boy in,’ is my advice!)

x

Within an hour, ‘Ken’ received the email confirming the booking.

I wrote an email informing Ken that he would finally have sole access to Jilly. All he needed to do was be impressive as a person…and in the sack!

Dear Ken,

The deal is done. She is going to be expecting you after work on Friday after 6pm. I’ve paid for the room already.

Make sure you are charming. Chat her up good and proper. If you want to maintain the cover story, go out for a couple of hours but don’t get tanked up. But you’ll need your wits about you and be able to think on your feet. If you get it right, you’ll be taking her through the night and if you REALLY get it right, a return match (or several) is a guarantee.

Lastly, I will leave an envelope for you by her front gate (behind it so it can’t be seen from the road.) In it, you’ll find a little blue pill or two. That should be enough to keep you hard for most of the night!! When/if you gain access to her, give her one from me!! Ha ha ha

Over the next few hours, I sent a series of emails detailing her penchants, her likes and her dislikes. I fed him some lines and told him how I thought it would go and to be ready for this or that. I told him very intimate secrets of what turned her on and how bağcılar escort bayan to fine tune it.

By the time I’d finished, I hoped he had a fail-safe guidebook to seduce and fuck my MILF mistress.

Day Two – Ken

So my ‘mate’ sorted me out a night with the filthy MILF!

I appreciated that because I really wanted to get some one-on-one with her as I remembered her fantastic fucking curves from last time and THIS time I wanted to dip and dip and fuck and fuck.

I knew that once she sampled my cock, she’d find it hard to get fucked by anyone else ESPECIALLY her poor excuse of a boyfriend.

I decided to play it just the way he said I should…up to a point. Then I’d do some improvising. Or maybe try some planning of my own.

Friday – Jilly

My boyfriend, having now heard the entire story first hand was excited on my behalf and insisted on coming to see me on the Friday morning for a calming fuck, sandwiched between two pep talks (though I seem to remember him saying he wasn’t available!)

“So, be cool but not too cool. If you play it right, he’ll be sliding himself into your bed in the middle of the night and wanting to bang you rigid. Remember, I’ll be watching for signs of life!” He said, pointing at the camera.

“But I’m not sure I want him sliding into my bed!” I said protesting.

He waved the thought away almost not hearing it.

“What are you going to be wearing?” He asked.

“Oh! I haven’t even thought about it. I’m trying to be the perfect host!”

“You’ll be the perfect host by dressing like a total fucking tart!”

He strode to my wardrobe and started rifling through.

“Okay. This, this, these and no knickers. A bra is optional if you think it’ll help!”

He’d laid out a tiny leather skirt, a tight, white, ribbed vest top and a pair of black high heeled platform boots. Hardly appropriate hosting gear. I ventured. Again, my protestations were waved away but he turned earnestly.

“Remember, if you need guidance on what to do, email me, text me, FaceTime me. Whatever. I have a sixth sense on these things and will always guide you right, okay?”

Unusually, he then asked if I would make him a green tea. He had to use the bathroom and wanted also to check Ken’s room. He picked up his rucksack and took it with him. I thought no more of it. I made tea.

When he came down he was clutching a small camera similar to the one in my bedroom.

“I bought you another one for additional security the next time you’re away.”

He placed it on a shelf above the main cooking area. He spent a few minutes pairing it and seeing that the angles were right via his smart phone.

We chatted some more and then kissed passionately and I ached to feel him inside me again but there was no time. I had things to do.

With a last kiss and a desperate hand on the lump in his trousers, I let him go.

Friday – the Puppet Master.

I was due to arrive mid morning.

Though I’d carefully orchestrated everything that was about to happen today, I couldn’t help but feel more than a little jealous that my ‘buddy’ was about to spend the night with my MILF; to do with her (more or less) as he pleased.

Before I strode to her door, I deposited the envelope which I’d enclosed in a waterproof pocket behind the gate out of sight of the road and out of sight of a casual glance from the house. In it were two blue pills. With these blue wonder-pills, Ken had a four to six hour window of opportunity per pill (provided there was sexual attraction.) Ken would be hard and ready for most of the night and more.

My cock was almost sore at the thought of a 12 hour marathon but twitched at the thought of her bare pussy’s wet, puffy lips inviting a hard cock to bury itself within her.

Once I was in the door, we kissed deeply and my cock was instantly hard. We broke away.

“So, are you excited?”

“I’m nervous. I have no idea what to expect. He may find me hideous and not even know who I am!”

I chose my words carefully as I was aware that Ken knew exactly who she was and what he would get if he played his cards right.

“Look. I think you have to take this at face value. He’s booked the room and may not know who you are. If he recognises you, it’s then up to you. It’ll be a game of chess!! But looking at you now, he’ll definitely want to fuck you. He’d be mad not to want to!”

I gave her a few pointers and signs to look out for before taking her upstairs, stripping her naked and – after making her cum with my tongue and mouth – fucked her quick and hard, the wetness from her pussy making sucking noises as I pumped into her at differing angles. I came inside her and fell onto her, breathing heavily.

“Oh fuck! Your pussy never ceases to amaze me, you fucking sexy bitch!”

We lay there for a few minutes before we got up in unison and went to the shower together and tenderly soaped one another, kissing as we went.

Unbelievably, I was hard again and managed to slide my cock into her from behind. She came again (with her, once the first orgasm was achieved, they then arrived like a rolling tide.) I kept ploughing on but knew that I had to be somewhere so once she had cum a fourth time, I reluctantly stopped, pulled out and soaped my cock, urging her not to touch it as I’d have had to fuck her again!! She giggled but obeyed.

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I’ve been staying in Seoul for a couple of weeks when a friend mentioned the term ‘booking club’ in a discussion about the local night club scene. I never heard of that before and it turned out that there are a number of clubs in Seoul with a quite unique system that allows men & women getting hooked up.

I was told that the clubs have a relatively high number of tables, some even separate rooms and that usually groups of guys go there to meet woman. Unlike typical night clubs, the dance floor is pretty small. The guys are buying all the drinks and also platters with side dishes such as fruit and other snacks. The waiters, there are many of them, are not only brining the food and drinks to the table, they also bring the girls. Yes, that’s right – they bring the girls.

Many of the women hang out in some waiting area close to the restrooms where they can take care of their make up or they stay on the dance floor. As soon as they are anywhere else, one of the waiters will grab them and bring them to a table or into a room and sit them next to a guy. Some of the girls are reluctant and protest, some are just following. However, they are usually OK with that as they knew what to expect before going there, although sometimes a girl was not told about it before and that means she is in for a small surprise.

I was also told that the better clubs with that system are often packed with girls because of a number of scouts that go to the restaurants and coffee shops in the area and talk girls into going to the club later that night. Having some fun and getting free drinks all night is doing the trick for many. As the clubs are frequently visited by richer guys and sometimes celebrities, this seems to work quite well.

So, once the girl sits next to a guy, they usually check each other out and introduce themselves to each other and the girl typically within seconds decides to stay or leaves (just to be brought to another table).

It gets tricky by guys giving tips to the waiters requesting special girls and sometimes even girls tip the waiters to be brought to a specific table.

After I heard that story, I could not really believe it. I mean, I have seen many really interesting things in Korea and I believed my friend told me the truth, but at the same time it was a bit hard to understand it without seeing it.

Around a week later on a weekday, I had just finished dinner with a business partner, my friend called me and asked if I want to join him and a couple of other guys in ‘the’ club. I first did not know what exactly he was referring to – honestly, I simply did not make the connection to the story I heard before at that moment. Anyway, I had no plans for the rest of the evening, so I agreed and minutes later I was sitting in a taxi going to the most fanciest booking taksim escort bayan club in Seoul – Club I in the basement of the Riviera Hotel.

I meet my friend in front of the building and we walked in together. Just the scenery was great, beautiful woman everywhere and even by only passing by I could already see the action going on, waiters dragging and pushing girls reluctantly to some table, a nice small dance floor full with gorgeous hot women, dancing to the latest electronic dance music.

It turned out that we had a separate room and when we reached it, there were two other guys in there, each of them with a nice girl sitting next to them. We joined the group and started drinking.

Only minutes later, a waiter came in and brought in a girl and sat her next to me. We smiled at each other and probably did not want to be with a foreigner and immediately stood up and walked out. Well, it did not matter, less than three minutes later the next young woman sat next to me.

In less than one hour, I talked to 6 different girls, saw another 3 that sat next to me but got out instantly. I meet a flight attendant, a professional dancer, two students, a Korean American only there for a 3 day holiday and really cute English teacher. I did not drink very much until then and had quite some fun, also some of the other guys meet interesting girls and no matter how it continued it would be a memorable evening in any case.

After I was without a girl next to me for a few minutes, the waiter brought in a new woman. I immediately liked her when I saw her because she did not look too overdressed. Many Korean girls are using too much make up which is nice, but I personally prefer the natural look. It turned out that she speaks English quite well and she was 29, one year older than me. She was dressed in a loose blouse with bra under it and tight jeans. Her body was average I guess, she was not too skinny, her breasts were not huge but still noticeable.

We both liked each other instantly. She told me that she had just went to a job interview for her dream job at a very important travel agency but was turned down. She was really down and quite sad about it but decided to join her group of friends to go to the club to get her mind of it. Actually, it turned out they were scouted from a coffee shop nearby.

She also told me a lot about her experience when she lived in Japan for some years and how different the countries are. We talked about the different views on relationship and even sexual life in the countries and I was surprised how open she talked about it, many Koreans are very conservative about such topics. With my experience about Korean and Japanese culture, I was an active participant and we both enjoyed the whole istanbul escort bayan scene a lot.

Later in the evening, she had to go to the restroom. The problem in this club is that girls coming out of the restroom are usually picked up by the waiters again and sent somewhere else, so I decided to go with her and waited in front of it. When she came out, she was surprised to see me there as she thought I might had already given up on her feeling the other girls would have been more pretty but of course I just had to wait for her.

On the way back to our room, in a slightly darker corner, she suddenly started to french kiss me without any warning. Wow – I was really surprised. It was a corner in the room, but still people could see us. It was great and it went on for several minutes. I really felt it took even longer. Both of us have drunk that night, but actually not much, so we could both fully enjoy everything.

One of my friends saw us and when we finally went back into the room, he suggested to get a room upstairs in the hotel. I asked her and she did not answer, still he had already started to arrange it for us – one of the conveniences that the club is in the same building as the hotel. We sat down again, had a bit more alcohol and continued talking, until my friend announced that he and his guys decided to leave. When we got up and walked out of the room, he handed me the room key for the hotel room upstairs.

I showed the key to her and asked her if she wants to join and again she did not reply but simply smiled. I walked with her towards the elevator going up to the hotel rooms and she entered it with me. Inside, we kissed again as we rode up to our floor.

Once we stepped into the room, she noticed that she forgot her handbag in the locker down at the club and said she wants to go downstairs to pick it up. I was a bit worried then, because I thought she might have changed her mind. I said it would be OK and I would go with her but she then turned her face around to look me into the eyes and pushed me on the bed – her handbag suddenly seemed forgotten.

We kissed each other like crazy this time, with her laying on top of me. After some time we were slowly undressing each other. I felt her ass with one hand pulled under inside the tight jeans she was wearing and then moved it around and opened the front of her trousers, she started to touch my chest after she had opened my shirt.

I was getting very aroused and she kissed my chest with the main focus on my left nipple, she even bite it and I loved it. She moved her head down lowly until she licked around my tights. I was getting fully rock hard for her at that moment and my cock head pushed itself out through the underpants.

After turning around and rearranging beyoğlu escort bayan ourselves, we both took of our remaining clothes. I started licking and kissing her body in all different areas. Her breasts have been quite small and I loved them, especially her nipples that stood up and where perfect for licking and sucking.

I went down her body with my head and soon started licking around her labia and inside her pussy. I noticed she was very aroused and quite wet. You see, I love giving oral pleasure to women, and especially in this case the taste was delicious. There was a small smooth patch of pussy hair just above her clit and it looked beautiful. Once her clit was more visible, I started licking and sucking there and her response was very nice. She put her hands on my head and encouraged me to continue what I was doing more and faster.

After some time she came. She became a lot louder suddenly! Her body was shacking a bit more than before and it was an amazing feeling.

It took some time for her to relax again and I used that to get a condom and put it myself on my dick. I slowly started fucking her pussy with me on top of her and looked into her eyes. We kissed more while I slowly increased my rhythm and pushed more and more deep into her.

Not soon after I came, she was so exhausted that she started sleeping. I pulled the blanket over her to make sure she is not getting cold and then snuggled under the blanket next to her.

In the morning, I woke up just before her. When she woke up, she was surprised to see me but then instantly remembered and we started chatting a little bit. We talked about her experience in Japan more and she told me of the things she does not like in Korea, especially the moral views about sex. She told me Japan is crazy but she preferred that culture to Korea when it comes about sexuality. The discussion really turned me on and she started to fondle my dick with her left hand and I became hard quite soon.

She started to give me a hand job slowly while we still talked and our discussion got more naughty. I fondled her breasts and her ass. Then she moved over me and saw there was another condom next to the bed and unpacked it. She put it on my dick and then sat on it. I moved it inside her pussy while she slowly moved down. After starting slow movements, she moved her body forward and her head down and we kissed again for a long time. She really enjoyed riding up and down on my morning erection. When she moved her body up again, I touched her breasts sometimes but actually I simply enjoyed looking into her eyes and she looked in my face with passion until she closed her eyes, moved her body back and increased the speed of her movements. Soon after that she started moaning loudly again and after some time I was coming. Luckily I still stayed hard and she continued moving up and down until she came as well and then moved back to the side next to me.

A bit later, we took a shower together and focused on cleaning each other. We then went together to have some late breakfast.

I had a business meeting that day in the morning and of course I was quite late …

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“Are you sure John is cheating on you?” Pastor Eaton asked.

Not knowing where to turn I had made an appointment with Pastor Eaton to see what I should do after I learned my husband of seven years was having an affair with who I thought was my best friend, Dianne McLean

John had been seen going into the Red rose Motel with McLean in the middle of the afternoon when he was supposed to be at work. Gert Curley had seen them and Gert was an impeccable source of information.

“Yes, I am sure.” I begin to sob.

“OK, just take a deep breath and relax, it’s not as bad as you think.” Eaton attempted to comfort me.

“But what about the children?” I whined.

John and I had two children, Alley our five-year-old and Trevor who was two.

“The children don’t need to know.” Eaton said.

“But I can’t go on like this!” I groaned.

“You can confront him and more than likely have it escalate where it could threaten your marriage or you could reassess your own conduct.” The pastor advised.

“I don’t understand?” I was confused.

“If you don’t say anything these things usually run themselves out but in the meantime you can have your own fun so it doesn’t bother you so much.” Eaton explained.

It was not the answer I had expected.

“Go home and think about it and I will see you again tomorrow at two.” Eaton dismissed me.

Mary-Anne Easton was bent over Eaton’s desk, her jeans and panties around her ankles. Eaton was sowing his seed into the submissive teens fertile garden.

Easton had confided in Eaton about her father’s inappropriate behavior after she had passed through puberty. The pretty eighteen-year-old revealed that her father had begin touching her and progressed to having intercourse with her.

Eaton told Marry-Anne it was a daughter’s duty to look after the needs of her father and that she should lovingly offer him the gift of her body. To reinforce it was the proper thing to do Eaton had partaken of the naïve beauty in hi study.

“Thank you pastor,” Mary-Anne said pulling up her jeans with a fresh load of Eaton’s sperm safely within her womb.

“Silly girl” thought Eaton, “When she discovers she’s pregnant she will assume it is her father’s child”.

“I would like you to come and see me again next week to see how you are doing Mar-Anne.” Eaton said as she left.

I was a bit more objective when I arrived at Eaton’s study the following afternoon.

“I don’ t think I really understand what you said yesterday.” I started the session.

“If your husband thinks it is OK for him to cheat on you then why isn’t it OK for you to do it?” Eaton proposed.

“Oh no, I couldn’t do that!” I protested.

In all of our marriage I had been satisfied with John and my sex life and had not even thought about anyone else.

“And why not?” Eaton persisted.

“I’m just not like that.”

“You could be?” Eaton suggested.

Was I going crazy? Was my pastor advising me to commit adultery?

“How?” I inquired.

“You could have your own affair and take your mind off John’s indiscretion.” Eaton suggested.

“And who could I trust to have this affair with?” I challenged.

“Me!” Eaton smiled.

Brian Eaton was like a father to me/ I had been attending the Normanhurst Baptist Church since we had moved onto Tolton Avenue not long after we were married. John was not much of a churchgoer but I liked to attend and later took the children along with me.

It was a small congregation and Pastor Eaton and his wife Helen barely managed on his meager stipend. Money aside, Pastor Eaton served with the zeal of the Good Sheppard caring for his flock before his own needs.

Eaton was a man of about fifty or so I would say, bespectacled and not particularly handsome but always had a warm welcoming smile on his face. It was hard not to love him.

“Are you serious?” I said in shock.

“Very!” Eaton assured me.

“But what about Mrs. Eaton?” I asked beşiktaş escort bayan even though I was not considering his proposal.

“Like John. She will never need to know about it.” He said. “It is a big step, sleep on it before you give me your answer.”

I went home with Eaton’s proposal swimming in my mind. Could I possibly do such a thing? I knew I could trust Eaton to be discreet; he would not want to be found out anymore than me. I knew he would be kind and gentle with me. That night I convinced myself to try the pastor’s suggestion.

“Hello Mrs. McLean?” Eaton spoke into the phone.

“Yes,” the uncertain female voice answered.

“This is Pastor Eaton of Normanhurst Baptist Church. A matter of importance involving you has come to my attention that we need to discuss.” Eaton greeted the unfaithful wife.

“What is that pastor?” Dianne McLean asked.

“I think you better come to my office tonight after dinner to discuss it.” Eaton proposed.

After giving his next prey directions to his office her hung up the phone and prepared to seduce the adulteress.

Dianne arrived at 7 pm dressed in a conservative blue print dress scattered with miniature pink roses. The neckline was high, not emphasizing her generous breasts and Eaton Immediately saw why John Greene was fucking her.

“I am so glad you could come.” Eaton greeted her.

“What is this about?” Dianne asked taking the seat opposite Eaton’s desk.

“It has come to my attention that you are having an affair with John Greene.” Eaton stated.

Dianne McLean turned white; a look of anguish covering her face.

“It will do no good to deny it.” Eaton added.

Eaton loved having females in this position, under his power and willing to do anything to stay in his favor.

“Are you going to tell Michelle?” she whimpered.

“That depends on you.” Eaton smiled.

We met in Carver City, an hour’s drive from Jarvis where we would not be recognized. Eaton did not wear a dog collar so it was not obvious that he was a cleric. He had arrived before me and booked a room at the Carriage Inn on the outskirts of town. We met at the Dunkin Donut and drove to the motel in Eaton’s plain green Chevy. He went ahead and unlocked the door and I hurried into the room behind him.

Eaton was looking forward to fucking my brains out. Dianne had been a good fuck but I was the prize he was looking forward to. I had even been dumb enough to give him $100 to cover the room, feeling guilty about him spending his limited income on helping me.

I was totally out of my element. The room was nice, white painted furnishings with gold scrolling. A large-screen TV in the matching credenza, a king-size bed covered with a snow-white duvet dominated the room. It was an ideal environment for my first venture outside of my marriage bed.

I had not had another lover other than my husband since I lost my virginity in the backseat of Billy Marsden’s father’s car on the night of the high school prom. That was so many years ago.

I had deliberately dressed unassumingly not wanting to give the image of a Jezebel. A cheery yellow summer dress with an old-fashioned white bra and plain white silk panties beneath.

Since alcohol and smoking were two vices Pastor Eaton abstained from I went directly into the washroom to prepare to become an adulteress.

I stripped naked and looked at myself in the mirror. “Not bad!” I thought scrutinizing my still firm breasts and nicely rounded ass. I took a deep breath and got up the nerve to rejoin my lover.

“Very nice!” Eaton said as he scanned my naked body. “Your husband is a foolish man”.

Eaton approached me and guided me over to the waiting bed. He had turned back the duvet and laid me across the crisp white sheets. I lay on my back, legs slightly spread, while Eaton removed his underwear.

I caught a glimpse of his erection as he mounted me. It did not appear to istanbul eskort bayan be even as big as my husband’s. Eaton worked his way between my legs and lifted my ankles to place them on his shoulders. I closed my eyes as I felt his cock enter me.

It was a surprisingly indifferent sensation feeling a strange cock occupying the space that had been previously dedicated to my husband’s exclusive use. My pelvic muscles instinctively contracted around the visitor.

“Oh sweet Jesus!” Eaton moaned as he reached his maximum depth in my vagina.

Curiously I began to fuck.

The cock felt good, it excited my cervix just as John’s did. Soon my juices were flowing to lubricate Pastor Eaton’s cock just as they did John’s. I wrapped my arms and legs around Eaton’s grunting body and thrust my hips upwards to meet his plunges.

“Oh yes, fuck me, I am a naughty girl!” I pleaded.

I could not believe what was happening, here I was fucking my pastor and talking dirty to him! It felt so good.

Eaton’s cock may not have been big but her knew his way around a pussy. His strokes awakened sensations that had been sleeping for over a decade. Expertly he knew where the triggers to my orgasm were located.

We had now fallen into a frantic dance of lust, Eaton’s erection stabbed in and out of me in rapid piercing thrusts. My uterus bears down on his blade craving his life-giving sperm.

“Come in me pastor!” I moaned.

“What about John?” he asked.

“Who’s John?” I smiled.

I felt his warmth filling my hungry womb.

I returned home a “born again” woman. No more stodgy inhibitions about sharing my body. I had discovered fucking other men could be as pleasing or even more pleasing as fucking my cheating husband. If he wanted to stick his dick into Dianne McLean then good luck to him, I was about to have my first black cock.

I had casually leafing through the pages of “Black & Proud” magazine at the Wal-Mart book department when I came across the picture. It was the New York Knick’s star forward, Malik Rose. Rose was completely naked and 10″ of black cock hung down almost to his knees! Right then I decided I had try a black cock in me.

Malik Rose was out of the question but Vince Scott who owned the corner variety store was a black man built like a professional football player. Scott was married but always looked at me lustfully when I shopped in his store. I figured it would be easy to tempt him into my bed.

I had not ventured out of the house without a bra for years but drastic plans called for drastic measures. I was sure once Scott got a glimpse of my bare breasts he would be putty in my hands.

There was only one old guy at the counter buying a lottery ticket when I entered the store. I felt naked without a bra and only a loose fitting tank top covering my large breasts.

Discreetly I wandered to the back of the store pretending to look for a certain brand of soda until the other customer left with his lucky ticket.

“Mr. Scott, do you have any of the diet ginger ale?” I called.

Scott made his way back to where I was looking.

I was bent forward and the neckline of my top hung open allowing an excellent view of my bare boobs to the shopkeeper. I could feel Scott’s caressing my exposed nipples.

“Do you see any?” I asked.

“Oh sorry, no, maybe there’s some in the back room.” Scott was torn back from his lustful thoughts.

Shall I come and look with you?” I offered.

The stockroom was maze of cardboard boxes and cases of soda. A narrow door from the store separated it. The cases of soda were in the back corner out of sight from the store entrance. That is where I embraced Scott and kissed him.

His hands run up my sides lifting my top with them. He filled his hands with my naked tits as out tongues intertwined. I left with a bottle of diet ginger ale and a rendezvous arranged for later that night.

John called just before dinner to tell etiler escort bayan me he had to work late and would not be home until about 11 pm. I knew he was just going to stick his dick into Dianne but I didn’t care. I told him not to hurry, I was going to have an early night and be in bed before dark. I did not tell him who I was going to be in bed with!

Scott arrived after 7 pm parking his car in the school parking lot like I had asked him. Quickly I whisked him in the side door of the house and locked the door.

I had changed into my white floor-length negligee to entertain him. The gown was made of transparent material and did not conceal ant details of my naked body. I had shaven for my black lover and my radiant pink nipples beamed through their veiled cups.

I wasted no time getting Scott into the bedroom. I slipped off my gown and climbed onto the bed while he got undressed.

When he pulled down his shorts and his huge black cock popped out, I smiled. He was no Malik Rose but his cock as bigger than any I had ever seen and it was about to go into me. Reaching into the pocket of his discarded trousers he retrieved a foil wrapped condom, he opened the package and carefully rolled it down over his erection.

Scott was like a mountain of Precambrian rock covering me as I lay there legs wide open ready to be invaded. He positions his massive cockhead at my entrance; it feels warm, smooth and big! Slowly he introduces me to the marvel of black cock, his mammoth auger spreading my labia as he enters me. My vagina is challenge to accept such a massive insertion, my cervix forming a tight glove around his cock. Slowly and gently he feeds inch after inch of endless cock into where it belongs until finally I have taken it all. I feel like the proverbial “stuffed turkey”, never ever had I felt so full of cock.

“Oh my God!” I moaned as we began to fuck.

Slowly at first he begins to slide his thick pole in and out of my bloated fuck hole. My hips follow his motion in an attempt to control the friction he is creating within my pussy. Gradually as I adapt Scott increased the rhythm of servicing me. My legs are now tightly wrapped around his ass as my body rises and falls riding his cock.

“Oh yes, yes, fuck me baby!” I plead in my delight,

Scott answers my plea driving the considerable length of his black cock deeper into me than any man had been before.

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck!” I moan about twenty times as my pussy is ravished by blacksnake. I am certain that the black man has destroyed me for use by inferior white cocks; this huge black cock has permanently altered my cunt.

Here I was with another woman’s husband’s cock in me and enjoying it far too much.

“Take the condom off.” I whispered into his ear.

“What?” Scott said in amazement.

“I want you to come in me.” I asked.

I don’t know why but something in me craved having my eggs exposed to Scott’s black baby seed. John had had a vasectomy so there had been no need for me to use birth control. Pastor Eaton had emptied his sperm into my womb and now I was inviting a black man to come in my unprotected pussy! Was I insane? John should have never stuck his dick into McLean or any other bimbo!

Scott withdrew briefly to remove the unwanted rubber. Quickly he lid back into my now well-lubricated tunnel. Bare kin caressed my sensitive tissue and the sensation was divine.

“Oh yes Baby, make me pregnant!” I taunted him.

Anyone would tell you it is not a good idea to tease a guy with his bare cock in you about making you pregnant. But at the time I didn’t give a shit, if I got knocked-up too bad. I knew my uterus was committed to taking Scott’s genes.

I could feel Scott was close; I was on the brink trying to hold back so we could come together.

“Now Baby, now!!” I cried as my orgasm escaped on me.

It hit me like a tropical storm, ripping control of my body from me in its powerful tentacles.

“Oh my God, I can’t stand it!” I screamed as I morphed into a brilliant star careening through an endless sky.

My orgasm was unbelievable, the kind you only hear about in stories but have never experienced. Just as I was learning to control my spasms I felt the gush of Scott’s sperm flood my womb, oh my God I was certainly pregnant!

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
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Becca blinked her eyes awake the following morning, under the covers of her black master’s sumptuous bed. Her hand felt numb and heavy as it was lying under the pillow under her head. She pulled it out and stretched it across the other side of the bed, wanting to feel the presence of her master’s body. The space her hand touched was empty. She raised her head and saw that the only thing lying there was his pillow and nothing else. She sat up on the bed, letting the covers fall from her body, exposing her nakedness to the air-conditioned cold breeze that flirted into the room. Her wristwatch and cell phone lay on a cabinet next to her side of the bed. She picked it up and was shocked to find that it was 9:35a.m. How could she have slept that late? It was something she seldom did. Back home she always going to bed by nine-thirty and got up by six. Then her mind went back to episodes of the previous night and she smiled and then laughed at herself from recalling bits of it.

Her master had promised showing her a good time as long as she was with him, and he’d lived up to the bargain yesterday. After dropping her darling Arnold at the airport, they’d gone to an upper-class restaurant in the city to eat a lavish meal. He’d introduced her to some Nigerian cuisine there—pounded yam and Egusi soup, with fresh fish. She’d acted a bit naive when he instructed her how to eat the food, with her hands. Though more concerned was she about the clothes she was wearing. Her skirt kept riding up her thighs and several of the patrons there must have gotten quite an eyeful as several of them¬—older men wearing colorful Agbada outfit¬—couldn’t stop staring repeatedly at the booth where they sat. Her black master though seemed unconcerned about it, and even when she leaned over and she whispered to him about the way they were feeding their eyes on her, he nonchalantly told her not to worry about them, that they probably haven’t seen a white woman eating in their midst before. Becca had turned her attention towards her meal, watching the way her master was eating his and thus following his cue. In no time she got the hang of it.

After the restaurant, he’d driven her around the city, pointed out several interesting landmarks for her: showed the expansive government residential headquarters, INEC Building, Abuja Park along Independence Avenue … but the sight that had most taken her was the magnificent of Olumo Rock. She stared at the huge boulder in awe as they drove past it and entered the part of the city known as Garki. Her master saw the look on her face and laughed; the ladies always got a kick whenever he showed them stuff this part of the world they never figured they would get to see. When he got to a traffic light, he took his hand off the wheel for a moment and caressed her thigh. She took his hand and pushed it inward through the wet walls of her pussy. Olu fingered her cunt for a moment, listened to her gasping sighs, and the retrieved his finger which carried the wet residue of her juice and put it into her mouth. Becca sucked his finger as if it were his cock¬—Ohh, she still carried memories of that lovely black cock of his¬—as if she were tasting ice cream. He drove to a boutique shop and they went inside for him to get some clothes for her.

“I don’t want you wearing any of those housewife clothes your husband must have to told you to bring along,” he said to her. “From now on, you’re going to wear what I get you to wear.”

Majority of what he’d bought for her were evening clothes, mostly transparent and quite revealing. They were the type of clothes Becca, in her former life with Arnold, never would have been caught dead wearing them. She was by heart a conservative in nature; hers was a world where even if the money was there, it was usually put aside for something else which usually involved settling bills. Even now as she sat in her master’s bed, thinking through her past, she could easily count on her fingers the numerous times she and Arnold had done something extravagant, or a moment when they’d lived an abandon moment. Arnold was always concerned about money, about never having enough of it. In a way, she too had become infected with his mode of living … but it had probably been for a good reason. That was the type of life they lived when back home. But here they both were in Nigeria, in the heart of Africa, miles away from home. Arnold was now settled in his new job down in Port Harcourt, making the money, while she herself was being guided by her newfound lover and black master. She couldn’t have wished for anything better, even though neither of them had had the faintest clue that such was the turnaround they would be getting used to when their Air-France plane brought them to this part of the world.

Olu made her try them on the individual clothes he’d bought for her; they were seven of them in number. The skirts were so short she was at a moment embarrassed to try them on. But the look he gave her told her not to even think about backing down. There were several other ladies hovering there around the changing booth and clothes escort section and nearly all of them kept turning around to glance surreptitiously at her direction when she came out and displayed each individual outfit for her lover. After the clothes, they strolled over to the underwear’s section. He bought her an exotic-looking bikini, something that only a slim model would fit into. It was followed by some crotchless panties, three pairs of teddies, and then in the shoes department, he selected four pair of high heels. Becca was getting dazed with surprise by the minute. She could recall the few times she’d been on high heels; Arnold never enjoyed seeing her in one. She said this to her master as she tried on each pair. Olu dismissed her husband and told her that as long as she was with him, she should forget about Arnold.

They had an assistant help them with the items to his car while he settled the bill. Though it was a bit enormous, he reasoned, but it was a gamble he knew was worth it. He always enjoyed spoiling his women with lavish gifts; it got them wet easily in the end.

Back home they’d returned, by which time it was nearing dusk. He had her try out of the teddies in the living room, and then he’d bent her over on the long sofa and fucked her. For Becca, it was like being fucked for the first time. His cock rammed deep and hard into her pussy like a bullet train. This time he didn’t pull out of her; he ejaculated his entire seed deep into her womb. Becca had bitten down on the sofa’s fabric, trying not to scream too loud but not succeeding in the end as she felt another orgasmic bombshell explode inside her. It was too late when she realized she wasn’t on the pill.

They’d fucked for another hour, by which time she was extremely drained by it, and yet he still had the energy and stamina of a lion. They’d taken a shower together. She’d sponged his body with liquid soap, felt his cock nodding back to life and washed it off too, along with his balls, though for these ones she did the cleaning with her mouth. Her hand caressed her pussy lips while she cupped each of his massive balls in her mouth and sucked one after the other. Feeling satisfied, he’d then pulled her to her feet and dragged her into the bedroom with water and soap suds sticking to their skin. He had her lean over on the bed; Becca’s hands went underneath her legs and she held her pussy lips open for him, giving him unabashed view of the pink interior that was her cunt with her juice gushing out of it, enticingly bouncing her hefty bum at him too. Olu grinned at her and came forward and held her down on the bed. He thrust his manhood into her in one quick stroke and within seconds began plugging her pussy like it owned it. Becca had raw ecstasy searing through her nerves like lightning, and with each thrust, it felt like she could actually hear thunderclaps.

“OHH FUCK! OHH MY GOD! FUCK ME, MASTER! OHHHH FUCK MEEEEE!”

Her master grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled her head backwards just as her voice turned into a piercing wail. Her master smacked her bum on and on till it turned red, grunting heavily while still feeding her his dick. The bout of fucking went on for a good thirty minutes. Her black master fucked her cunt in every which way possible. When it came time for him to cum, he did like in the afternoon and emptied his load into her, after which he then collapsed on the bed beside her. Becca lay there catching her breath, feeling a sensational sore where her pussy was. Her hand slid in that direction and she touched his bountiful cum dripped out of pussy. She turned her head to look at her master and wondered: My God, he’s insatiable! I never thought such men like this ever exist anymore!

They fell asleep for more than an hour. When her master woke her up, it was a little past ten. He told her they needed to be someplace. She actually was tired and could have used the sleep, but as he was her master, there was no choice but for her to do his bidding. He led her back into the bathroom to clean up and after they’d dried up, he selected from the items he bought for her a blouse that was near transparent and a micro-mini skirt. She wore on a pair of thong panties and a half-cup bra that hiked up her tits; last came a pair of high heels. Olu admired her for a moment and the look on his face told her he liked what he saw. He put on a t-shirt and jeans, and when they were ready, they went downstairs to his car. A security guard had the gate open for him and they then drove off into the city to a fancy nightclub. The rest of the night had gone like a blur before her eyes. She remembered dancing with him … his hands caressing her ass while they bumped hips to the music … them sipping cocktails and she gasping as he slid his hand between her legs to cop a feel of her love nest … them being back in the car, and she giving him head while he drove.

Becca was still recalling all of this and more when her cell phone rang out, startling her. She didn’t recognized the number, though knew it was Nigerian. She put it next to her ear and said, escorts istanbul “Hello?”

“Did you sleep well?” she recognized her master’s voice immediately.

“Oh yes, I very much did. Gosh, what time did we get home last night?”

“A little past midnight,” he said. “I’ve got some minor work to take care of here at the office; I’ll close early and be back by noon. I have a housekeeper downstairs. Ask her whatever you need, and she’ll get it for you.”

“I’d like to make use of your swimming pool, master, if you don’t mind. I need to get some sun on my skin.”

“Sure, you can. After all, that’s what the bikini is for. Don’t burn too much though.”

“I won’t,” she smiled at the sound of his caring voice.

When their conversation ended, she got up and went to have a shower. Wearing a bathrobe, she went downstairs and saw his housekeeper there in the kitchen. She made her a cup of coffee, scrambled eggs and some toast. Done with breakfast afterwards, she returned to the bedroom and took out her traveling bag and began replacing the clothes her master had bought for her with much of the ones she’d left England with. She would give them to the housekeeper later to get rid of them for her. Her thoughts then went to Arnold. She wondered how he was doing, if he was finding his new job easy. She thought about calling him right away, but then canned the idea; he wasn’t too important to her right now, though she promised doing that later. It was still early for her to go out and take a swim. She reached into her travel bag and took out a Mils and Booms novel she’d brought along to keep her company and went to lie on the bed to read through some pages, hopping for the hour to hurry along.

*************

At 2:25p.m Olu returned from work and drove into his compound. The day was a Friday; business usually was slow on such days and knew it won’t kick up till next week. He met his housekeeper who gave him a summary of feeding his guest before he then dismissed her for the day. He left his briefcase and jacket in the living room and went through the kitchen door to the back of the house where his swimming pool was located.

Becca lay stretched on one of the lounge chairs beside the pool under a shade away from the heat of the sun. She’d been soaking herself in its cool, inviting water since noon. She was nearly dozing off when she felt someone shaking her arm. She pulled down the shades she had on and recognizing who it was she broke into a smile.

“Master!” she got to her feet and wrapped her hands around his neck and kissed him. Olu gave her soft ass a good squeeze just as she in return rubbed her thigh against his crotch, feeling something there slowly come alive. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ll bet you have. You’re really looking gorgeous in this bikini.”

“All thanks to you.”

“I’ll have to keep you close to myself, or else other black brothers would do anything to steal your ass from me.”

“I doubt if I’ll let them,” she said.

“You had yourself a good swim?”

She nodded. “I’ve already showered. In no time I’m going to get my tan back.”

“Africa is where the sun makes its home. In no time, you’ll be shining like a bronze statue.”

“I can’t wait for that to happen.” She kissed him again. “I’ve really missed you.”

“Good to know. Come with me, there’s a something I’d like to show you.”

She wrapped a towel around her body and allowed him to lead her into the house. In the living room, her master motioned for her to seat down and went to a display cabinet. She pushed her wet hair off her face and watched with curiosity as he took from inside the cabinet a hand-held statue of a figure with a double axe-head for a crown. He came and sat next to her and gave her the state to look at.

“What is it?” she asked.

“That is a statue of a mythical god of the Yoruba tribe, which is where I hail from. His name is Shango, the god of thunder. It is from him I bore my name. We Africans are a proud people, Becca. We take double pride in our heritage and lifestyle. Shango, in his time, was a proud warrior and a benevolent god. His blood runs through my veins; and it is why for you to remain with me, you must listen and obey every word I say to the last. Do you follow me?”

“Yes master, I do follow,” she said without compunction.

He went on with his indoctrination. “It wasn’t my intention to hurt your husband the way I did yesterday. I merely wanted him to know his place¬—his rightful place¬—he is a white boy and as well a slave. The true African religion states that all white men are subservient to blacks. I know back where you come from you’re unaware of such happenings. But down here the opposite is the case. Black men are far superior to the whites in strength, stamina, or even brain power. It’s only unfortunate that the rest of the world is yet to embrace this notion, but gradually it will. And with what you’ve come to know, when next time you return to England, you will tell more people there about how virile the men down here are, and escort bayanlar of how loyal your service is to me. Am I getting through to you?”

“Yes, master.”

“Prior to your coming here, tell me honestly, have you before being fucked by a black man?”

She shook her head.

“Tell me honestly, have you been enjoying it so far all these times I’ve been fucking you?”

She smiled happily. “Oh yes, master. I enjoy every second and minute of it. it’s been unlike any kind of fucking I’ve even gotten before.”

“Is it anything compared to how white boy Arnold has been fucking you?”

“No. he hardly comes to you. I can’t remember the last time I actually enjoyed sex with him.”

“And you won’t ever again. By the time you return to England, you’re going to be a changed woman. No longer will you allow your cunt to be seduced by any white boy prick. You’re going to start going out in search for black dicks and black dicks only. And every time you do, you’re never going to refuse swallowing their cum. You’d better get used to this, Becca. You’re now officially a black man’s slut and that’s what you’ll always be. Your life from now on will be totally different from the one you used to know. Do you get me?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Have you ever been fucked in the ass too?”

“Oh my God, no,” she gasped. “I mean, I’ve seen it done in porn flicks. I know too that some women enjoy it. One time when Arnold and I were fooling around, he talked about it—wanting to do it to me, but I shook him off.”

“It’s a good thing you didn’t let him.”

“Master, doesn’t it hurt?”

“I won’t lie to you—it does. But only at the onset. Later on you won’t even feel it. You’ll even get to enjoy it just as much as you love getting fucked the normal way.”

Still there was skepticism on her face. “Well … I don’t know … I’ve never tried it before.”

“All the more reason why you need to try it now,” he urged. “I want to experience everything there is to know about loving a black man, and of being fucked a black man’s way. Trust me, you’re going to enjoy it.”

“You really think so, master?”

“Look at me, Becca. Look right into my eyes.”

And she did; she was totally mesmerized by the power that radiated within those brown eyes of his.

“I told you that I’m a descendant from a black African god. One of the strength of all black gods is the inherent will to have any woman they want, regardless of who she is or where she’s from. I’ve had my taste of white women before—I’m not going to lie to you about that—and I can still go out right now and return with another. But there’s a reason why I chose you. You’re a wanting woman, Becca. I look into your eyes and I see a lot of desires you’ve wanted to have for so long but have been refused of. What I’m giving you is something most white women out there would die for—the most precious gift of any black man, and that’s his cum. I want you to have it in every which you can take it. But for me to give it to you, you’ve got to be willing to step up and ask for you.”

He said all this with emotive passion. Becca was so swayed by his words she could hardly breathe.

“Now tell me, do you want me to fuck you anally or not?”

“Yes,” she answered breathlessly. “Yes, master. I want it. I want to have as much of your cum that you can spare me with.”

“Good. Later this evening we’re going to go out. There are some friends of mine I’d like for you to meet. But first, I need a bath.”

Becca went with him upstairs and watched him get off from his clothes. She sat on the bed admiring his muscles, the growth of hair on his chest and arms, the muscle outline of his abdomen … then her eyes took in his cock which now was as turgid as an evergreen tree, along with his sac of balls. Becca went ahead fingering and rubbing her clit while he neatly put his clothes away. She couldn’t help but believe all what he’d told her downstairs. For truly he looked just like a god; he was everything a man ought to be. Suddenly she wished she didn’t have the burden of Arnold to live with. Why couldn’t she have been a divorcee, or a yet unmarried woman? Gladly she would give anything just to be her black master’s slave. She would cook for him, feed him his food, wash his body whenever he takes a shower, and let him fuck her every which way he desired. All this and more she would gladly offer herself totally for him. Worship the ground on which he walked on and even lick the sweat that poured from his body. If she’d known long ago of such men no doubt she would have visited Africa years ago, long before she ever thought of settling her Arnold.

She went with him into the bathroom and picked up the sponge and scrubbed his body as he took his bath. His hand grasped her fatty ass and he kissed her passionately, probing his tongue way deep into her mouth while his cock pressed against her stomach. Done with his bath, they dried themselves up in the bedroom and then he picked up a DVD disc and led her downstairs naked. He inserted the disc into a DVD player and turned on the TV set. Becca recognized the scene of the movie when it came up. It was yesterday’s recording on her kneeling before her master and sucking his cock. Olu took the DVD remote and forwarded it to the part when she handed her husband his cock to suck.

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