Ay: Şubat 2021

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I walked into the old high school gym for my 10-year high school reunion. I took a look around and didn’t see anyone I wanted to talk to, I walked to the bar, grabbed a drink and found a table in the corner. I sat and watched my former school mates pass by. Some gave me a once over glance but not a one of them remembered me. Then I saw her. Christy Lang was still beautiful; she was wearing a simple violet shift. I watched as she walked to the bar, got a drink and searched the room for a seat. Seeing a free seat at my table she walked over and smiled and asked…

“Would you mind if I sat with you?”

“No, not at all, have a seat.”

She smiled as she sat down and I noticed she was scanning the crowd, but she had her head down just a bit as if she was hoping not to be recognized. Although I knew who she was I couldn’t think of a good way to break the ice so I simply asked her…

“Your Christy right?”

She turned to me and did a double take and then responded…

“Yea…That’s right…”

Smiling at her I told her…

“I know you’re trying to figure out who I am. Am I right?”

“Just a bit…There’s somethin’ bout you but I just can’t put my finger on it…”

I smiled as I watched her try to figure out who I was. Finally I asked her…

” So do you want to guess who I am or should I just go ahead and tell you.”

“Was it Home Economics? Or maybe Gym…”

“Home Economics, Gym and English.”

“Oh please tell me so I can feel the idiot…”

“Tell you what, why don’t I give you a hint…”

She was still trying to figure it out as she said…

“English too?? Hmmmmm.”

Then it dawned on her…

“Jessie? You sat in front of me…”

I smiled and said…”Yes it’s me, I sat in front of you in English, had a locker next to yours jr. year.”

“Oh my goodness… how are you? God you look damn good…” She exclaimed.

” I’m good and thank you.”

“I dropped my history book on your foot…”

“Yea my toe was swollen for a week.”

“You as you always did look great.”

“Thanks but I didn’t think so… You really want to be here or would you like to go outside and talk a bit? This music is wreaking havoc on my senses…”

“Yea I know what you mean, I wasn’t too fond of this music back then and now it’s just irritating.”

I said as I rolled my eyes. I stood up and adjusted the green blouse and black skirt I was wearing. She smiled as she watched me get up; she finished off her drink, stood and adjusted her dress. She said…

“It’s beautiful outside this night…”

“Yes it is.”

I stood to the side and waited for Christy to take the lead. Smiling she walked outside turning to look over her shoulder every now and then to make sure I was behind her. As we walked out she called to me…

“Come on Jessie come look at the moon.”

I walked behind her watching her sexy ass sway. Before I knew what I was saying the words fell out of my mouth.

“Oh I’m looking at the moon and it is very nice.”

She laughed and turned to look at me and said…

“Aye that is a very expensive moon too…If you’d rather just go I can get my driver to come around…”

I smiled and blushed a bit before responding…

“Sorry, ummm no we don’t need your driver, lets just talk a bit.”

She laughed again and said…

“Its okay Jessie… I wasn’t gonna do anything… I hate these gatherings… There are tables over here…”

Christy sat down and looked out over the moon. I sat down next to her and said…

“I don’t even know why I bothered to come back … I should have just stayed gone.”

“Jessie… no.. Don’t ever say that. You were smart… you were going places. My looks are what got me out of here…”

“Yea I got out cause I got a scholarship, I have been gone from this town for 10 yrs and I get an invite to come back and here I am…back in high school.”

She kinda hung her head and said…

“I won’t even say how I got out… I’m not proud of it… You were always smart and pretty and I was such a mean person and I am sorry…Look at you… What degree did you get? Where did you go? Did you get married? Kids?”

“Christy you were one of the few “popular kids” that actually spoke to me and was kind of nice.”

“Not from what I remember…”

“I have a degree in creative writing and photography.”

Sighing she leaned against the wall and began talking.

“I don’t get to do stuff like this… not since high school… I’ve not had a night to myself… for myself in so long I Can’t remember… Creative writing ’tis good and photography I’m picking that up…”

“Really? I love photography. I did get married but it only lasted 2 yrs, no kids. What about you? Did you get married any kids?”

“I’m into photography because of my job… You didn’t hear about that whole Orlando Bloom thing… no, no kiddos though I want one badly…”

I was a bit confused…

“No what Orlando Bloom thing?”

She pulled out a wedding picture and said…

“It was a freak thing and casino siteleri it lasted five years… ONLY cause he was off on his movies I was off on mine…”

“Oh that’s right you are in movies now, I think I saw one of your movies.”

She nodded and said…

“Afraid so…I’m afraid to ask which one…”

“You were in ‘secrets of the heart ‘ or something like that right?”

Christy started laughing hard and said…

“The Ewan Macgregor one… Yeah.”

Laughing with her…

“Yea my roommate rented that one night…she has a HUGE crush on you. It was actually a pretty good movie.”

“I’ll take that as a complement… as I do really prefer the ladies… Pretty Good? Gods I hate that one… though Ewan is pretty hot and a damn good actor…”

“Well i’m not much on love stories, now I love a good murder mystery. Or anything that Sandra Bullock does.”

Christy chuckled and said…” Sandra… yeah.”

“But I don’t get much time to watch movies with my job. Too busy running around trying to get the right pic of the right person for the story.”

“That’s understandable… What is your job?”

“Ohhh I’m a reporter/photographer for Country Weekly.”

She smiled and said…”good press…I know that one… same here… I am to the point I hate movies… ”

“Yea they pay good, I get to meet lots of celebrities. And it gives me a slight inside track to my goal.”

“Which is?”

“To be a singer songwriter.”

“I know people…”

“Oh I know a few ppl…and when I get back to TN i’m scheduled to make a demo for some big wigs.”

Christy stood up quickly and silently moved a little bit further down the walk and gazed out over the canyon. She was silent a few moments before she spoke again.

“It is always so pretty up here… I’ve forgotten… Or maybe I didn’t have time to look before.”

She pulled her hair over her shoulder she closed her eyes and basked in the moonlight, listening to the waterfall down the waterfall. Then she said in almost a whisper…

“So very pretty…”

I walked up beside her and said…

“Yea I used to come up here all the time when I was sad or upset.”

“I would have liked that luxury I wasn’t allowed to be sad, or depressed, or to frown. I wasn’t allowed to be anything except what I was told. You know I wanted to be a nurse…”

“No really? My parents wanted me to be a doctor, they wanted me to follow in my dads footsteps.”

Nodding she turned to look at me…

“Aye… a nurse… could you imagine…but a doctor that would have been something.”

“You would have made a good nurse. Yea well they freaked when I told them I wasn’t interested in medicine. So why didn’t you become a nurse?”

“This called to me and it was fast money…fast money for a dirty habit…”

“I always thought acting would be great, glamours even.”

“Yeah… if you can find a good way to stay awake and full of energy.”

“Yea I imagine it does take a lot out of you.”

Watching me she grew quiet again. I turned to her and asked her if she would like to go get some coffee somewhere.

“Sure…if you want.”

I started walking towards the parking lot; Christy just followed me silently, mumbling to herself. I looked over my shoulder at her and called out laughingly…

“Hey you! Quit staring at my ass and come on.”

Blushing at being caught staring she hurried to catch up with me.

Christy looked at me and said…

“You are a sweet heart and a minx now take me to this place… before I change my mind and get my car…”

I opened the passenger door for her and went around and got in. She smiled and said thank you as she got in.

“Do you know if Gordy’s is still open?”

She shrugged and said…

“I was sleeping when teddy drove through town.”

“Ok, I guess we’ll find out.”

“I’m sorry Jessie… I just didn’t bother to look I didn’t think I’d meet anyone.”

“No big deal. I think I still know the way…after all it is only 3 miles from where I used to live.”

Christy laughed and said…

“Bet you don’t know where I lived.”

I turned to look at her and smiled as I said…

“Bet I do.”

Shaking her head she said…

“I told people one place but it was a lie…”

I looked at her seriously and said…

“You lived exactly 5 houses down from where I lived. The house was blue with black shutters.”

She quirked a ‘raven brow’ at me, and said…

“You win… pick your prize.”

“I worked in the office at school and I gave your lil sister a ride home one day.”

“Hmmm do I get anything I want?”

“Anything you want and that’s cool. Amanda never said you brought her home the brat.”

“Yea I kinda asked her not to tell you.”

I pretended to think about what I wanted. Then as we pulled into the parking lot of ‘Gordy’s’ I told her what I wanted.

“Hmmm I think I’ll take…an autograph.”

Christy raised the other eyebrow to meet the already raised one. Smirking at me she asked…

“An slot oyna autograph? Where would you like it?”

I wanted to see how far she would go so I unbuttoned the first 3 buttons on my blouse and pointing towards my cleavage and said…

“How about right here.”

“Lots of places there.”

She pulled a sharpie marker pen from her purse.

I smiled and asked her what she was waiting for. She smiled and cupped my right breast and held it firmly as she scrawled…’Christy Bloom…For my first fan.’ Then she asked…

“How’s that?”

I looked down.

“I can’t believe you just signed my tit… Laura is never going to believe this. She didn’t believe me when I told her I went to school with you.”

Christy started laughing really hard and then she said…

“I…I… I’m sorry…”

I gave her a quizzical look and asked what she was sorry about. She responded that she was sorry for her fit of laughter. As I was buttoning up my blouse I said.

“Ahhh don’t worry bout it. Now how about that cup of coffee?”

“Coffee would be good before I make an utter ass of myself…”

“As long as it looks as good the rest of you I don’t see what the problem would be.” I said giving her a wink.

We walked into the diner and grabbed a both in the back. She smiled and said it was a nice booth.

“This is possibly the only thing I miss about this town”

It’s a beautiful place… I like it. Didn’t even know it was here.

She pulled the sharpie back out and pulled a napkin from the dispenser. I watched as she scribbled her name and number on the napkin.

“Give me a call anytime… I’ll come see you.”

I took the napkin and tucked it into my cleavage and told her I would. She laughed lightly and then said…

“You truly are beautiful. So tell me about where you live now.”

“Well I live downtown Nashville in a 2 bedroom apartment.”

“Very nice.”

“I share the apartment with a girl I met when I first moved to Tennessee.”

“Nice… She a good girl?”

“Yea she’s a sweetie.”

“I’m happy for you… I live with three cats.”

“I think one of the biggest reasons she and I get along is cause i’m hardly ever home. And that’s also the reason we aren’t lovers anymore…go figure.”

I laughed and said…”when she sees this napkin she’s gonna freak.”

She just sat there staring at me for a few minutes, before she said…

“Too much… I’m always impressed by my fans.”

“What?”

” Never mind… How they react… are they screamers… pullers… gropers… groupies… Its all good…”

I leaned across the table took her hands in mine and simply said…

“If you want to know something about me just ask. I’m an open book.”

“I wouldn’t know where to start.”

She said as she rubbed the sides of my hands with her thumbs. I stared into her eyes.

“Start anywhere. Anything you want to know.”

“Well are you happy where you are?”

“Yea I like my job I like my roommate. The apartment and the neighborhood leaves a lil to be desired but it’s all good.”

“Then that is all I need to know… honestly you are happy.”

“Yes I’m happy…are you?”

“Well anytime you wanna visit LA come on out.”

“Actually i’m going to be in LA next week.”

“No.”

“Yea.”

“Then stay in my house… I have plenty of room you won’t have to rent anything.”

“I’m covering the premier of the new Reba McEntire movie.”

“Then I am close.”

“Really? Are you going to be at the premiere by chance?”

“Yes really… I always mean what I say. Yeah… Orlando and I had all ready planned for it and can’t pull out now… Unless you would like to go with him.”

“No that’s quite alright, besides I’m going to be working. I’m finally going to get to meet my long time idol.”

“Which is? Reba I’m guessing.”

“Yea, over the years i’ve taken dozens of pics of her.”

“Then come with me and Orlando… we are having dinner with her afterward.”

“Oh.”

“Aye… his sister Sam is just as infatuated with her.”

“Great! So what about you miss thing…when am I going to hear about you doing a big movie premiere of your own?”

“A movie premiere… When hell freezes over and the feud between me and nummy is over I’m sure they will give me a good flick with an awesome premier.”

“Well as soon as that happens…you let me know and I’ll be there.”

“All right.”

I looked at her for a few moments before I got the nerve to tell her what I’ve been trying to tell her all night.

“I want to tell you something, something that i’m sure you had no idea about. But you have to promise not to laugh at me.”

“Go on. Laugh? I don’t laugh at anyone.”

“In high school I had a major crush on you. I used to fantasize about being with you.”

“Really?” She asked blushing slightly.

Blushing as well I said…”yea, the whole 4 years.”

“That’s awesome.” She said with a big smile.

“You think me having a crush on you in school is awesome?”

“Darlin… canlı casino siteleri I’ve always been saying a little bit after women.” She said with a nod.

“So if I had had the nerve to tell you when we were in school what would you have said?”

“I probably would have dated you no problem.”

“Yea right!”

“You don’t believe me?”

“No I don’t.”

“I don’t know. I mean face it Christy you barely even knew who I was in school.”

“There has to be something… I did know who you were… who else in that damned room remembered your name let alone any classes they took with you. Jessica… I knew who you were… what perfume your preferred and I loved that tank top dress you used to wear.”

I stared at her with my mouth open.

“I- I never knew. I mean I was such a geek.”

“I had no intention of telling anyone. I thought I Was alone… look it how small this town was is. You were a very pretty geek… you have natural beauty. I looked forward to gym just so I could see you.”

I leaned back and told her thanks.

“Your welcome.”

“God I wish I would have known, you were the only reason I bothered with gym or dressing out. Only one person the entire time I was in school ever paid me any attention.”

She quirked that raven brow at me again, and asked…

“Who was it?”

“Ohhh you don’t want to know.”

“Sure I do.”

I lowered my head and mumbled…

“Your sister.”

“Amanda? Really?”

She turned her face away from me and took a few minutes to collect her thoughts. Then said…

“I’m glad you had someone… That’s good.”

“Yea she and I were allot alike.”

“I’m happy for you though.”

“God do you know she wanted to tell you? I told her you would freak out.”

“Then I would have been happy for her too… You weren’t mine. I had no say.”

“I thought you would freak just from the fact that she was with another girl. Neither of us knew about you.”

“I’ve been this way since I was little… no one did…no one does.”

“I’m the same way. I could never tell my family. Only a few close friends in Tennessee know.”

She nodded. I reached out and took her hand and kissed the back of it.

“Would you like to get out of here and raid the mini bar in my hotel room?”

Laughing she asked…”Trying to get me drunk? I can do that on my own just fine but for you I will grant you anything. I always would have.”

“No i is not trying to get you drunk… or at least not to take advantage of you.”

Shaking her head she said…”that’s not what I meant.”

“No I know…I was just joking with you.”

“All right.”

I stood up and made my way to the register paid the bill and then returned to the table to grab my stuff. Upon returning to the table I asked Christy if she was ready.

“Yeah.”

We got in the car and I plugged in a tape and we were on our way. Christy stared out the window and remarked on how the place hasn’t changed any. She turned to look at me and said…

“You know you are still very beautiful.”

“Ty…so are you. You know I think your even more beautiful now.”

“I don’t think I am… I’m a glam slut… you are gorgeous… very natural.”

I reached over and took her hand.

“Don’t say that, you are gorgeous…you always were.”

“Thank you.” She said as she entwined her fingers in mine.

We held hands the whole drive back to my hotel. We smiled at each other several times. There were several minutes of silence before I told her…

“I used to love watching you run laps in gym.”

“Why? ME and my big breasts… Me and running never got along.”

“No you always looked so happy when you ran laps, I liked the way your hair bounced.”

“I have always ran from my pain… running gave me comfort.”

“I never liked running, I always avoided running at all costs. I would always just drown my pain in a pint of been and jerry’s.”

Smiling she lifted my hand to her lips and asked…

“Why? You were beautiful hush.”

“No I wasn’t.”

“Fine you weren’t… you were horribly unpleasant… unattractive. IS that what you were after Jessie? Because its not true…”

“Well if it’s not true then how come no one but Amanda ever showed any interest in me what so ever…I mean not even to be my friend.”

“Because mean people suck… Jessie… that was then this is now.”

“Yea now I have the exact opposite problem… when guys see me now all they see is my looks and all they ever want is sex.”

“Welcome to my world.”

” Yea guys suck.”

“I’ll admit it Jessie… I love what I’m seeing now but I loved old Jessie too.”

“I believe you. Really I do.”

“I just want you ever happy.”

As we pulled into the hotel parking lot I turned to look at her.

“I’m happy right now right here with you.”

She smiled and said…

“Then I am all ready happier than ever.”

I leaned in and kissed her lightly on the lips. Smiling she cupped my face in her hands, her thumbs stroking my cheeks. I pulled back from the kiss and looked at her.

“That was…was, really nice.”

“I’m sorry… I had no right to kiss you like that.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for. After all I kissed you first.”

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That evening Kip showered and rested on his bed with just a towel around his waist. He was sipping a large Laphroaig and flicking through a sailing magazine when, just after nine the phone Fatema had given him earlier rang. Kip stared at it nervously. Was this a honey trap? Would that be her brother, her father, a whole tribe of hairy-arsed locals seeking revenge?

‘Hello!’ said a sexy voice as soon as he keyed the response.

‘Hello,’ Kip replied with a croak, and for the second time that day his cock twitched to life.

‘Are you alone Kip?’

‘Yes, of course why?’

‘You don’t have a girlfriend with you?’

‘No, not today. It’s her night off,’ he joked.

‘You do have a girlfriend, don’t you, Kip? Ashia thinks is it Miss Nancy in the library.’

‘No! She’s too fat.’

‘You don’t like fat girls?’

‘No, I like thin, cute girls, with black hair, brown eyes and who bite their bottom lip.’

She laughed and they chatted for a while making small talk before she suddenly said,

‘My sister is getting married.’

‘Oh, ok, that’s nice,’ he said, thrown by the sudden change of tack. ‘Er, ok. How old is she?’

‘She older than me, casino oyna she is my half-sister from my dad’s first wife, my aunt.’

‘How many wives does your dad have?’

‘Only two now because my older sister’s mum died, so now my mum is the first wife but my dad took another younger wife and she and my sister make me angry, they tease me.’

‘Who do? Why?’ I had started to lose the plot but Fatema pushed on with a childish hurt tone in her voice.

‘They tease me about sex; they talk about it all the time. My aunt is always telling my sister what she will need to do, you know, on her wedding night. It makes me so angry.’

Kip figured out what she really wanted to say was frustrated not angry.

‘They talk about, you know, fucking.’ She paused a second to allow the word to sink in.

‘Ok, Well, that’s normal really.’ Kip offered in a dry croaky voice, while wondering where this was heading.

‘And my aunt says she is sucking my dad every morning and my sister will need to do that to stop her husband wanting another wife.’

‘But sweetheart.’ Kip interrupted, playing along with her hurt little girl act and ignoring her rare grammar fault.

‘You’ll slot oyna just have to wait until you get married too.’

‘But I don’t want to get married just yet, not for a few years. I want work in a bank, but I want to have sex now.’

‘You want to be… fucked?’

‘Yes, and suck cock. I want to suck your cock, Kip. The cock I saw today.’

‘I want you to suck me Fatema, and I’d love to be the first man to fuck you, my cock is hard now thinking about you.’

Kips cock was now a solid rod as he caressed the shaft listening to Fatema’s talk sex.

‘I’m touching it now, Fatema. I’m naked on my bed wanting you here.’

‘I’m naked too, Kip. I locked my bedroom door. Shall I will send you a photo?’

Moments later three grainy photos came through with each with a beep that made Kips heart race. The first showed her face and cleavage, Kip stroked his cock. The next was of her breasts, beautiful olive brown with small dark nipples, he rubbed a little firmer, and a third photo taken at a strange angle but clearly showing her legs apart, a single long labia lip peeking out of a lovely light brown pussy mound, Kip shot his load all over his towel. canlı casino siteleri

‘I’ve just cum looking at your photos Fatema.’

‘Really, I made you do that?’

‘Yes, of course. You’re so beautiful, so sexy. Tell me kitten, do you play with your pussy?’

‘Yes, but only in the shower because I get so wet and I don’t want the maid to see sheet stains and gossip to my family.’

‘Play with your pussy now Fatema. Can you make yourself cum?’

She said her couldn’t but she wanted to cum soon with his help over the phone.

Over the next few weeks they chatted most nights and always ended with him coming all over his belly and her having to take another shower. She did everything but slide her fingers deep inside her, not daring to break her hymen and leave blood on the sheets. She explored her clit as Kip revealed the things he wants to do to her, where he would touch her, where he would put his mouth and tongue. At her request he half-filled a small film canister with cum and then the next day gave it to her in school. She immediately took it into the ladies and tasted it with her finger. That evening she smeared it over her breasts and as they made love over the phone he brought her to her first full climax as she rapidly rubbed one wet palm against her pussy lips and clit while sucking on the cum soaked fingers of her other hand.

Kip thought that would be all. Fatema had other plans.

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They’ve known each other for some time now. Despite the fact that she lives in the United States & he lives in Australia. Worlds apart, they’ve connected. It was like magic, & it seamed like so long ago, yet at other times, it seams like only yesterday she made that first hesitant first contact. Now, she’s on her way across the globe to meet him, face to face. What a meeting it will be. She feels like a schoolgirl experiencing her first crush, but this is much more intense then that. She wonders what he’ll think of her, her looks, her voice, and her feelings for him.

Her flight arrives, on time for a change, & she gathers her things, & prepares to leave the plane. Walking down the gang plank, she sees him, he’s even more handsome then his photo, which she’d clutched tight to her breast through the entire flight, he’s so casino oyna masculine looking it takes her breath away. As if she couldn’t be any more nervous, her knees start to tremble. Just as she’s ready to lose her balance, he catches her. Before she can say a word, he kisses her sweetly, ever so passionately. What lips, they’re just as she dreamed they would be. His arms still around her, they walk to retrieve her luggage, & then proceed to his car. He tells her he has some wonderful plans for their time together. She doesn’t bother to ask what, she knows, anything he’s planned will be made very special.

After first relaxing ride through the beautiful countryside, they arrive at his home. She knew it would be wonderful, just like him. He leads her inside, taking her hand, he shows her around. They come to the bedroom slot oyna where she’ll be staying. She tries to hide her disappointment but he sees the look on her face before she can hide it and says he wasn’t sure if she’d be more comfortable in here, or in his room. He didn’t want her to feel pressured. She says he’s very thoughtful, but where would he prefer her to sleep?

He takes her into his powerful arms, he brings them one by one, to his hungry mouth.

She can’t stand the agony any longer. She slowly starts to remove her blouse, she watches his face for a reaction, and his eyes are very approving. He slips his arms around her waist, pulling her to him. After a very lingering kiss, he removes her remaining clothing. Thus, she stands before him, naked, she slowly spreads her fingers over it. Putting her lips canlı casino siteleri to the tender spot between his pecks, she slips her tongue out to taste him.

Being this close to him she can catch a faint scent of his cologne. How wonderful he smells. While her lips & tongue search over his chest, her hands begin to undo his pants. She can feel his desire for her grow. When she is finished, he steps out of them. Standing before her in nothing but his black, silk boxers. She is amazed at his beautiful body, all she wants to do is explore every inch, with her tongue, & she starts to do just that. She searches out his hands, & starts to suck on his fingers, one by one, to show him what is yet to come. She proceeds to his chest once again, down his abs, to his stomach. She continues to search out the rest of his body with her mouth.

She finds his groin, he shoots hot cum into her awaiting, mouth.

My question to you is, “Did she spit, or swallow

(In all reality, I would take a nice hot shower before hand, would you care to join me?)

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Going out the door of my apartment, a two bedroom place in The Waterstone, a complex of burgundy brick buildings with white shutters amidst rolling lawns, behemoth pine trees and meandering sidewalks of serpentine rock, I wore my jogging togs: blue cotton shorts, a University of Washington tee shirt and gray trainers.

As I closed the green door behind me the green door of the apartment next door opened at the same moment and a buxom, blue eyed blond smiled at me. I felt her eyes taking me in, licking me like a child assaults a Blow Pop sucker.

“Hello new neighbor, believe it or not but my name is Harmony, Harmony Hill. How about a cup of coffee.” We shook hands and I told her my name was Dwight Porter.

Barefoot, she wore a short wrapper the color of cream soda. Loosely wrapped, the garment barely covered her bottom and I had no trouble viewing most of her splendid breasts.

Of course I accepted her invitation and entered the apartment in her wake. Cardboard boxes of various sizes and shapes, most of them sealed with shiny strips of masking tape filled the apartment. The day before I had seen a U-Haul truck backed into a parking slot in front of the building and I wondered who my new neighbor might be. Now I knew.

She motioned for me to navigate around the towers of boxes, sit down in the glider rocker in the living room near the sofa and coffee table and asked me how I liked my coffee.

“Black, no crème, no sugar,” I said.

“You got it,” she said.

Maybe in Hollywood or on the French Rivera such a woman moved in next door but this sort of thing did not happen in a small town nestled on the shore of Puget Sound in Washington State. Her creamy skin, prominent cheek bones ala Bo Derek, cobalt blue eyes, straight golden hair trussed in a ponytail and perfect body made me think a goddess had tumbled from Mount Olympus, her fall broken by all the cardboard boxes. Stunningly beautiful, she conveyed with the most subtle of movements, indirect glances, moist lips dabbed at constantly by her tongue that she meant our getting acquainted session to be of the most intimate nature. The way she crossed the room carrying two mugs of coffee as though trekking gingerly across a trampoline, the high arches of her pretty feet, the press of her toes on the beige carpet turned me on as much as her long bare legs and swaying hips did. Her near nakedness, the choreography of movements designed to entice and arouse me, the silkiness of her voice all came together in such a concentration of lust and lasciviousness I felt compelled to rip the silk from her body, fling her on the sofa and jab my cock deep into her pussy while my mouth found hers. Then to suck each rose colored nipple in turn like sucking frosting off a spatula. Never in my short life had I experienced such in your face sexuality. She was casino oyna a bitch in heat and I was a dog in the same frame of mind wanting to hump the hell out of her. Aligned with her salacious actions Harmony radiated a delicious sensuality that smacked me in the face like the whack of a slap across the face.

After handing me a cup of coffee in a white bistro mug with Le Café Shop printed in black letters on its side, she settled on a sofa upholstered in a pale blue fabric and accented by several lozenge-shaped white pillows. Her slim, shapely legs formed an inviting inverted v and the smooth heels of her bare feet rested on the surface of a coffee table with a square of smudged glass at its enter that needed some Windex and elbow grease. Her azure painted toenails sparkled like the enamel on a freshly polished automobile.

I tried to focus on our conversation, shifted around in my chair trying to camouflage my erection by positioning my coffee cup in front of the tent formed in the front of my shorts.

Recently divorced, Harmony told me she was the mother of a 21 year old son, now a ground pounding Marine Second Lieutenant in Iraq and a 23 year old daughter the same age as me. My God, what her daughter must look like, what sexuality and beauty must reside in the progeny of this spectacular woman, I wondered. Harmony worked in a grocery as a checker on Route 303, liked Gregory Peck movies, slow dancing and sunbathing in the nude. Unless she became a mother at ten, I estimated her as twice my age, but she did not look much older then her reputed daughter. Had she discovered an elixir to ward off aging or did the fountain of youth actually exist and she knew its exact location? She looked so good; of such perfection I began to doubt she was real. Was she merely a confection of fantasy, the build up to a climax of a wet dream I was having as I slept soundly in my bed. Maybe during my tour in Iraq when that shot from the AK-47 whizzed by my head it actually hit and killed me and as a reward for giving my life for my country Harmony Hill was my reward. Looking at her fetching legs, slim ankles and petite feet, the cleavage, the tits gloriously exposed, reveling in her musky scent, captivated by her smoky sensuality, I considered Harmony Hill a much better deal then the 79 virgins allotted to a suicidal bomber.

I, Dwight Porter, a decent looking-in my own estimation- twenty-three-year old failed college student, a former solder, a combat veteran and a bartender at a place called The Sweet Spot had never felt so inundated by lust. Lust so viscous I felt like I could reach out and touch it.

As Harmony finished her brief bio her left hand drifted under her silk wrap and began playing with her pussy. At the same time her right hand gently shifted the fabric curtain across her breasts and her right breast slot oyna came into view.

With the exception of a few centerfolds in Playboy and a striper I had once seen who according to a cop standing near by was formerly a man, I had never seen such a spectacular breast. I had no doubt the left one was just as spectacular.

It was huge, round and firm. The cone shaped rose colored nipple in the center of a coffee colored areola appeared as prominent as a tall man in a crowd of short people. The fingers on her left hand continued to probe between her legs and at the same time she played with the nipple on her breast with her thumb and index finger.

“Do you like my breasts Dwight? Do they please you? I heard the nasty argument you had last night with your girlfriend. I am horny and you need some consoling. This pussy of mine needs a hard cock in it for sure and the way you are standing up it looks like your cock wants to fill me as much as I want it filled. First, though I want to suck your cock. Other then fucking, I love nothing better then sucking cock.”

Harmony stood up and as she vaulted across the table, I saw her shaved pubis as she squatted on the floor in front of me. She yanked my shorts over my hardness and pushed them to my knees and no farther. For a brief second the cool air in the apartment tickled the helmet of my cock and then the pink cavern of her mouth swallowed me and her pinker lips clamped around me. Her cheeks puckered as she sucked. For several minutes she sucked, her mouth making a nearly perfect vacuum. She sucked as though she wished to empty me through the portal at the end of my cock. I gripped the arms of the chair, moaned, and tossed my head back, reveling in the ministrations of her mouth. Fourteen women had sucked me off before Harmony gave me head and they all paled by comparison. Looking down at her, my eyes clouding over, I could see my entire stalk disappearing inside her hot, moist mouth. She went at my cock as a starving man attacks victuals when brought near him. Her passion in sucking cock made the sex act that much more supercharged. My sperm climbed inexorably toward her suctioning mouth.

She released me before I exploded in her mouth, took my balls inside her mouth, sucked them just as ardently, let them pop from her mouth and licked them to and fro. Then she went back to my cock. She licked its sides, her saliva coating my member. Then she raked her teeth up and down me, the sharpness of incisors and bicuspids thrilling me no end as pain and pleasure blended as one and rapture of such an overpowering intensity swallowed me.

Along with the ecstasy induced by Harmony’s mouth I had the added pleasure of looking at all the allures of this woman, this sexual beast fucking me with her mouth. Her heavy breasts with their engorged nipples, the pussy canlı casino siteleri so wet I imagined it drenched the carpet underneath her, the long legs worthy of Mary Hart or Betty Grable.

I grabbed at her head, my hands over her ears and pulled her toward my cock and as she sucked so fervently my semen flooded into her mouth and the glistening fluid dribbled from between her lips.

“My God,” is all I could say.

“Now, you need to fuck me and I want to be fucked hard,” Harmony said as she swallowed my sperm in one single gulp. “The bed is a wreck so we have to fuck here on the floor.”

“Honey, I would fuck you in the middle of a mine field or on the edge of a cliff.”

“After my divorce, well it was actually before my divorce, I decided that no man over the age of 25 would ever fuck this body of mine. So far 19 strapping young men such as you have fucked me. My husband caught me fucking the second one, the pool guy, and that is what put me on the road to a divorce but it was worth it. I think all that young and potent sperm will keep this 55 year old body nice and healthy. Now, fuck me baby.”

First, I untied the sash of her wrap, pushed the material to the left and right and reveled in the sight of her body.

“Come on baby, I have not been fucked in three days and I crave your cock. Fuck me.”

My cock as hard now as it was before she sucked me, quickly charged into her pussy. She wrapped her legs around my back, pushed her hips toward my lunging cock. My tongue entered her mouth and her tongue embraced it. I rose up on my hips and slammed in to her.

“That’s it, fuck me like that. I am your slut.”

Never had my cock felt so huge, so hard, and so hungry. No matter how many young or old cocks had descended into her depths she remained tight and gripped me like a vice. As I moved in and out of her, she scratched at my back, licked at my neck, her tongue painted wet streaks across my jaws.

“Harmony, you are so wicked,” I said.

“Honey, you have no idea how wicked I am.”

“Tell me about your wicked ways,” I said. “That would be such a turn on.”

“Not right now, but I will. Remind me to tell you sometime about getting fucked by two 23 year old twins simultaneously.”

“I will, I will,” I said as I continued to push in and out of her. All this back and forth movement, the rubbing of my knees against the carpet was causing a significant rug burn on my knee caps. Not that it mattered in the least.

Harmony removed her legs from around my back and spread them as wide as she could extend them.

“That’s it stud, fuck me with that hard cock.”

Then I pushed her legs together and draped my legs outside hers. Heavenly just heavenly.

In the next several hours we must have fucked three more times, she sucked me off again and I fucked her in the ass once.

After we finished fucking, we showered together and she sucked me off once more.

“Honey, any time you want to fuck just knock on the door. As long as I am not fucking some other young stud, I am all yours.”

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Early in May 1982, Christian met Christine for the first time and Clare was there also, hovering around their conversation about waist sizes and other anatomical details. Deliberately, she was intending to take no part in Christine’s figure training, but to act as encouragement and advisor when necessary.

The arrival of a new corset trainee marked a development in Christian’s own understanding of his corset fetish. He was disturbed by his own responses to the prospect of Christine’s corseting. Although he felt no particular erotic attraction to her, the very process of reducing her waist excited him and produced a distinct but secret erection at each of their subsequent meetings. He knew that it was not the woman who excited him but the fact that she was to be tightly confined and shaped by almost brutal corsetry. That was his erotic drive; his focus for sensuality; and the source of his pleasure. He would never explain that to anyone, especially not a woman undergoing corset training, because it sounded too mechanical and bondage-related. As if he enjoyed just the equipment, the forces, the fabrics, the gradual reshaping of the female form. And, of course, that was precisely where his pleasure lay and he was part ashamed of it, but also part proud to be an artist in “woman-sculpture.” He wondered if he were unique in this level of abstract interest in the attenuated waist — but not the woman herself. His erections were caused by straining fabric, rigid bones, tied laces and the staring, gasping, trembling body that was held within them.

For her part, Christine was open and uncomplicated in her approach.

“I just want to reduce my waist to the minimum for my body,” she told them, “I know that I can pull a belt to about 20 inches but I really would like to be tiny. I’ve read all the books and articles so I know it’s dangerous. But I’m ready for anything it takes. You tell me about diet, exercise, painkillers, breathing, toilet — everything and I’ll do it.”

Christian felt a need to be cautious.

“You must know it’s up to you. Tell me why you want to do this. I’m not going to be a policeman on your waist. I’m not going to punish you or anything like that if you give up. You decide when we start and I’ll tell you the method and the pace. But it’s for you to decide to go on to each stage. Yes? Agreed?”

“Yes. I agree. I just want to do it for my pleasure — my satisfaction. Don’t ask me too much, please. I have a yearning and I don’t care if my life is affected. I want to be really tiny at my waist. No one’s talked me into it. I just want it for myself and I’ll do anything you tell me so long as it’s about my waist.”

Clare asked if Christine wanted to start soon or after more thought and talking.

“I want to start now; today; and to be very small within a few weeks or months. If it takes me years and years, I don’t care. I just want it to happen. Do you want to help me or just talk about it?” She was getting impatient.

Christian responded, “Let’s measure you now and I’ll order your first corset immediately.” He stood up and went to get the tape measure and the callipers her used for measuring Clare’s body all those years earlier and Jeanette before her.

While he was out of the room, Clare thought she’s better check again the resolve of this young woman who was more of a girl.

“You do know, don’t you, that you’ll not be in control of your eating or drinking, or of the toilet or anything private at all? He’ll want to know all about your periods. Are you ready for all that?”

Christine was becoming suspicious and tense.

“Why are you trying to talk me out of this? You’ve made your waist small so why stop me? I’m determined – and you said he’d help me; so just let him and me sort it out. OK?”

Christian came back and carefully measured Christine in over twenty different parts of her body. She undressed to her panties and bra and he felt all over her skin. He squeezed on her ribs, especially the bottom floating ribs, until she thought she’d be bruised. He wrapped a rope around her waist and pulled harder than ever she could for herself, until she seemed to be cutting in two. He pressed on her hipbones and actually did bruise her skin. The flesh and fat over her torso, and especially her waist, were both measured to the nearest millimetre. After nearly an hour, Christian had the full measure of her body and he filled out the order form for a wasp-waist corset with waist 20 inches, bottom ribs 29 inches and top hips 35 inches. It was to be 12 inches long, covered in white brocade and with a hard front busk. This would give Christine a reduction of 6 inches if and when it could be closed onto her.

For two weeks, Christine had to wait but she visited Clare and Christian every few days, and they all talked about her training. She dieted a little and reduced her weight by about 4 lbs. and wore a 22-inch tight broad leather belt about her waist all the time during every day and a softer fabric casino oyna version during nights. She wanted to know about her intestines and the effect the pressure would have on her digestion and her toilet routine. Would she be able to drive or cycle or swim or go for long walks? Clare passed on her experiences and was totally frank and open. She spoke about small meals and the importance of preventing feelings of fullness, and so avoiding indigestion and heartburn. She was very forthright indeed about intestinal health and the advisability of regular purging, enemas and colonic irrigation. They exchanged ideas on fashion and agreed that high heels and a stiff collar added to the sense of control and propriety, which the corseting itself was designed to produce.

Christine acquired two pairs of 4-inch heeled court shoes and two others with 4½-inch block heels and platform soles. She got some shirts with proper stiffened collars and some silk scarves to wrap around her throat under the fastened collars. For skirts, she had some already which would suffice until her waist had attenuated a little. They were pencil skirts, fitting below her knee or else mid calf, with cuff waists and gores to shape her hips. Christine thought that she’d be able to alter her skirts for the first couple of reductions. For wearing under her corsets, she got a selection of silk, nylon and lawn camisoles. In her mind, she had started already on the pathway to a tiny waist and total control of her life and anatomy.

On one occasion during the two weeks, Clare undressed and displayed her figure for Christine, to show how her body had changed. Two features were particularly interesting to Christine. First, that Clare’s abdomen curved upward and inward from her pubic area, making her groin seem to stand out. In fact, the tightness of her corseting meant that all the soft, forward parts of her abdomen were pulled towards her spine. Inside, her intestine and bladder, ovaries and vagina, were pulled slightly out of place after years of training. They were now pointing and located towards her spine.

Secondly, her lower ribs had become compressed so that the bottom floating pair actually disappeared into her thorax. The pair above was deformed inwards and downwards so that they almost touched within her corset, at least 2 inches lower at the front than they would be naturally. Her breastbone was no longer flat along the contour of her chest, but pointed inward at its bottom edge under the top of the corset. Christine was fascinated by everything she learned. She took “lessons” in toilet management and experimented for herself with purging, until she could predict her own evacuation within a few minutes. This would be important for the extra tight lacing later in her waist training programme.

She participated in Clare’s lacing and learned how to judge the rate of tightening, as well as how to tie off the final knot. By the end of the wait, she was ready and full of ideas for her own training. She was excited and aroused by the entire experience. Christian noticed that she showed all the signs of real sexual arousal: flushed face and shoulders, shortness of breath, bright eyes, tension in her muscles and her voice. He and Clare discussed it, when they were alone at night.

“Did you see her throat and cheeks?” asked Clare, “She’s excited as if she were with a man. I bet she’s hot and wet. She’ll be a really good tight lacer if that’s what she’s feeling.”

“Her waist is really flexible you know. She’ll lace in by six inches quite easily, I reckon,” added Christian, “I haven’t told her, but her spine and ribs are already lined up for compression and the gap from her ribs to pelvis is bigger than yours. She should be able to corset to her absolute minimum without much adjustment and no discomfort at all.”

Then he expressed a worry. “You don’t think it’ll come between us, do you. Tight lacing is exciting for me, you know, and she’s obviously turned on by the whole thing. I bet she’ll orgasm just from the pressure. I don’t want it to be problem for you and me. I really care about you, you know. I’m your fella. I don’t want Christine to be a problem.”

Clare was almost dismissive. “Don’t be silly. What we have is our special thing. It’ll only finish when we want it to. This little girl won’t come between us.” He knew that he should be reassured but still felt uneasy about the plan they’d made together. Even Clare’s words didn’t really give him confidence for some reason.

And so they got ready for the start of Christine’s training. One morning, the corset arrived in its familiar long brown paper parcel. There were eight metres of lace through the back eyelets and Christian removed it all, to re-lace it in his special way. Then Christine would get better support at her waist than was usual in commercial methods of lacing. It was one of his secrets. The corset was very firm indeed. It had the firm front busk with six studs, six bones to each side, two fluted slot oyna panels over each hip and a reinforcement tape around the inside of the waist. Christian measured it and, as he ordered, it measured exactly 20 inches inside the waist and about 21 inches around the outside. Clearly, it had been made to a very precise model and, once again, Christian whispered a little blessing upon the artist who was also the corset-maker.

The very next evening, Christine arrived for her first fitting. She was flushed with excitement and almost in a hurry to be fitted into her new corset. Christian and Clare helped her undress and put on one of her new camisoles. They got her to stand with her arms raised whilst the new stiff corset was fastened round her figure. For nearly an hour she sat with the corset loosely fitting her body, underneath a dressing gown. She sat in a warm place and the corset settled into her figure a little more as its temperature rose. Then she removed the dressing gowns and stood whilst Christian pulled the laces to give a definite pressure on her waist. Then she sat for a little longer in the warmth until the corset settled even further. Christian was careful to ensure that the corset’s laced back opening was always parallel so that the bones did not bend more that they were designed to do; so that the forces lining up in the fabric did not put too great a strain on the stitching or the fibres of the layers of cloth.

This process was repeated for most of the evening and by 10:00 the corset was laced to within one inch of closure, all the way along the boned back. Christian was careful to keep the opening straight and even. Then at 10:15, Christine was undressed again to her corset and panties, and helped to lie on her front on their soft rug. She was told to stretch out her arms above her head along the rug and her legs straight out in the opposite direction, and her head on a small cushion. Christian knelt to one side.

“This’ll be smooth but not really gentle,” he explained, “stop me if it hurts but not otherwise.”

Christine nodded her agreement and took a breath. Christian gradually forced the laced back towards closure. Fraction by fraction of an inch, the parallel boned opening became narrower until only about ½ inch remained. He stopped at that stage and almost spoke, to see if Christine was still comfortable, but he could see that she was wriggling inside the corset, flexing her buttocks and breathing in hot little bursts. He stood back quietly and Clare also kept her distance. They watched as Christine came to a quiet but distinct orgasm before their eyes. She writhed as much as the corset would allow and gave a huge sigh, entirely within her shoulders and chest, since she could not breath in her thorax at all.

Without saying anything, he returned to his lacing and smoothly but firmly laced Christine to the full extent of the corset. He helped her to stand and Clare led her to the long mirror. She looked at herself and ran her hands over her new shape. Her breathing was still short and a little ragged and her shoulders were still flushed, as were her breasts and her throat. She pressed with her palms against her flattened stomach and the firmness of her hips and bottom. She held her own breasts in the cups of her hands and the other two could see her nipples standing out hard and long.

“Please can I be alone for a minute?” she asked and they went to their kitchen, closing the door behind them. When she was sure no one would see or hear her, Christine reached down and held her lips between her legs and pressed hard up against the urgency in her vagina. She pressed and relaxed, pressed and relaxed, all the while staring at herself in the mirror. Her breathing became sharp again and her eyes stared. The flush returned and slowly but deliberately she collected the sensations towards another great orgasm. When it came, she let out all the breath she had in her constricted lungs and forced her hand against her warm quivering lips and vagina. She almost staggered with the sudden release of sexual tension before resuming breathing as normally as she could. She knew then, at that moment, that she wanted to be that shape, that controlled and that excited for the rest of her life. She returned her hands to her waist and pressed and pressed again against the hard bones and the taut fabric. She was not completely comfortable but that did not matter: she had the sensations and the posture that she had been seeking. She knew that she wanted more pressure, control, shape and, if she was honest with herself, more discomfort and more submission to the life of the corset.

That night, Christian gave her tips on loosening and refitting the corset and then drove her back to her apartment. She agreed not to take off the corset for a full two days. Then she would visit Christian and Clare for further fitting and to take a bath under supervision. During the two days, Christine received a phone call every few hours, both at home canlı casino siteleri and at work, to encourage her and to check on her well-being. At each call, she told them how she felt and how her body was reacting. She recounted her eating and drinking during the two days, and her visits to the bathroom. Although she did not mention it, it was obvious from her heightened excited tone that she was also receiving very considerable erotic pleasure from her training and constriction. At the end of the two days, Christian collected her and brought her to his apartment. He watched her throughout the drive and noticed a number of things about her behaviour and her manner. She was quiet but flushed, still but vibrating and fidgeting, calm and self assured but her voice was raised a little and she talked all the time. Clearly, she was excited about her situation and at the prospect of the next few hours.

During the evening, Christine’s corset was removed slowly, over 15 minutes or so. Her camisole was lifted over her head and she stood there in bra and pants. She felt down at her waist and the skin on the rest of her torso. She felt and played with the slight ripples and creases left by the corset and the camisole. But more than anything else, she placed her hands on her waist and pushed inward to see the effect of 48 hours of firm lacing. She was delighted and gave a little squeak of pleasure.

“How does it feel to be free of your corset?” asked Clare, “Do you feel better or not?”

“I feel loose and weak but not in my body — more in my head and feelings. Do you know what I mean?”

“I certainly do,” replied Clare. “In a few weeks you’ll never want to be without your corset and after some months you’ll not able to be without it.”

“I already don’t want to be without it,” said Christine as she continued to hold and touch her body where the corset had shaped her. “I can feel myself expanding — is that possible?”

Christian had been sitting to one side, to let the women talk but now he spoke, “Within an hour, your body will have relaxed and all the work of the week will be lost. That’s why you must shower and be corseted again as quickly as possible.”

And that is what they did. She spent just a few minutes in the shower and came out with her hair in towels. Clare helped her dry, and oiled her skin, particularly around her waist, and then applied talc. She spent a few moments inspecting Christine’s skin for chafe marks and was pleased to see none worthy of comment. They dressed Christine in fresh bra and pants, and a clean camisole, and then placed the second corset around her — but loosely for the time being. As they came into the sitting room, Christian rose and came across to commence the re-tightening.

He told Christine what to expect. “We must fasten you in as quickly as possible to regain the shape. Is that alright?”

“Yes. Do it quickly,” said Christine. “I really want to be tight again.”

Within ten minutes, Christian had almost closed the corset onto her body and she stood in front of the long mirror pressing her hands over her shape, feeling at the bones and the tautness of the fabric. Whilst she was almost tightened, but not quite, Clare helped her to dry and brush her hair. When she was ready, Christian laced the final inch or so and she was reshaped as before. That was the first of many such evening over the next three months, until Christine was able to unlace and re-lace herself with speed and comfort.

Christine’s progress was rapid to start with and then slowed until she became despondent about ever reaching her goal of a truly tiny waist. Christian and Clare explained the process, and how her body would need to adjust in stages. After six months, her waist was 18 inches for 24 hours every day, except when showering. For the next 10 weeks or so, she could not lace any tighter, even with a new corset of 17-inch waist. The laces broke on two occasions and on a third she found herself very uncomfortable at even a fraction of an inch below the 18 inches she had attained. Christian and Clare encouraged her to relax into the 18-inch shape for a short time and, sure enough, in the eleventh week she found that the laces pulled a little closer without extra effort. She was off again on her quest. Within a month, she was able to lace to 17 inches for most of the time although she could not sleep with that degree of pressure. She wore an 18-inch or even a 19-inch corset at night.

During the twelfth month of Christine’s training, Christian measured Christine again and ordered three fresh corsets, two at waists of 16 inches and one at 15 inches. He explained to her that she would not be able to wear these corsets for some time, but they were there, in existence, as further encouragement to train seriously.

“I don’t need encouragement,” remarked Christine to Clare one day, “All I ever want is to be smaller and smaller. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

She was as good as her word and over the next 18 months gradually trained her body to take the 16-inch waisted corsets during the day and 17 inches at night. On one unforgettable evening, Clare commented that Christine’s waist had the same measurement as Christian’s shirt necks.

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Finally, it happened!

After weeks of jitters, unsure if I really wanted this, I made love to another woman. And it was great!

Now, I’m happily married, and not planning on changing my life. I just wanted something, well, new. When I told my husband, he understood, as long as our relationship wasn’t jeopardized. Once I assured him it wouldn’t be, he gave his blessing.

So, here we were. My husband was out of town for a few days, and I decided it was time. I had found Jaden on the Internet, and was instantly attracted to her. We shared many interests, and she was also happily married. But she listed her orientation as bisexual, and I just knew she would be the one. We exchanged emails, and talked on the phone. I was smitten!

Jaden arrived at my house around 2:00 PM, and we hit it off like old friends. I introduced her to my horses, and we went for a ride, chatting like old friends. But we didn’t ride long, and soon we were back at home, sipping a glass of tea, and looking into each other’s eyes. We didn’t discuss what we were going to do, it just happened. One minute we were sitting at my breakfast table, the next casino oyna we were holding hands, and then we kissed. Wow! I’d never had a kiss hit me like that one. We stood up, and I took her hand and led her to the sofa. When I turned around, she was right there, her arms around me, her lips searching for mine. We kissed, our tongues swirling and searching!

I fell back into the cushions, where I had often made love to my husband, and she took control. She knew just what to do, where to touch, how much I needed her! Soon she was undressing me, pulling my sweater over my head and reaching behind me to unfasten my bra, slowly, sensually slipping it from my aching breasts. My nipples were hard and begging for her touch. She took them in her hands, pinching them hard, the way I liked it.

I knew this first time would be quick, because I was about to cum just from the way she handled my tits! She took a nipple into her mouth, grazing her teeth across it, and then biting it. Damn, this felt sooo right!

She paused and removed her blouse, and I reached out and released her bra clasp between her breasts. I wanted to make it slot oyna last a little longer, so I treated myself to her body as she had done, caressing her and tweaking her as we kissed. I nibbled on her ear, and then kissed down her neck and across her chest, which was heaving with her heavy breathing. It turned me on even more to know she loved what I was doing. I sucked her rosebud between my lips, flicking my tongue over it, reveling in its feel. I had never been so turned on!

She rose up, looking into my eyes as she pulled my boots off, then my socks. She unfastened my jeans and tugged my zipper down. I raised my hips, and she pulled my jeans off, tossing them aside. I pulled her down to kiss again, feeling our naked skin touch, expecting sparks from the contact. I pushed her to my side, then, following her lead; I removed her boots and jeans. I took her by the hand once again and led her to my bed, which we tumbled into, our legs entwining as we shared a passionate kiss. My leg pressed against her sex, and I felt her wetness as she did the same. Her hand made it’s way down my tummy till it rested on my soaked crotch. As we kissed canlı casino siteleri she rubbed and stroked my aching pussy through my panties. Pushing the fabric aside, her singer slipped between my lips, stroking across my opening before sliding easily inside.

That was all it took! I exploded, creaming on her fingers and crying out in pleasure. As my orgasm took over my being, I clutched my lover to me tightly, biting her shoulder as I rocked on her hand.

As I came back to earth, I felt her shift on the bed, tugging my panties down. Again I lifted my hips, and she removed my soaked undies. Now I was completely naked and open, and brook lowered herself between my trembling thighs. Lovingly she began to lick my sex, savoring the juices, which were flowing so freely. Unlike my husband, who closed in on my clit, trying to make me cum, she licked my pussy like it was candy. As she licked, her finger found its way back inside, curling forward to stroke that magic spot just inside, and I was off like a rocket!!

I lost count of my orgasms, as she licked and stroked me expertly, until I could take no more, and pushed her face away. She raised her head and looked at me with a devilish grin, and said, “My, my, I do believe I found heaven!” Then she slipped beside be and we kissed. I could taste myself on her lips, and I wanted to return the pleasure she had given me.

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

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

My girlfriend Tess was almost perfect. She had been my best friend since middle school, long before I even noticed that she was a girl. She was smart, funny, loved to watch sports on TV, had great musical taste and cursed like a sailor, when her parents weren’t around. She was also incredibly beautiful. Her auburn hair cascaded around a pretty face, highlighted by legitimately green eyes and lush, red pillowy lips. She had creamy, strong shoulders, and toned arms. Her breasts? They were big enough to attract stares, but not too big, and sat proudly on her torso above a flat belly. Her legs were strong, long and well shaped. Even her feet were beautiful, her toes straight, nails well groomed and skin smooth, with a high arch. Her hands were smooth and her fingers long and straight. She kept her fingernails pretty short, with only smooth polish.

From middle school to high school, our relationship progressed from friends to dating, to going steady, all without any real discussion. It just was the way it was. We spent most of our free time together, and every day that we were together, I reminded myself how lucky I was to have Tess in my life. Our parents were friends, and mine adored Tess, and hers really seemed to like me, although they were definitely more reserved than my parents, who often touched and kissed in front of me and my sister. We had, pretty much, free run of each others’ houses and spent hours together, working on projects for school, watching TV and videos, playing video games, messing around on the Internet and eating.

I did say that Tess was almost perfect, but by the summer before we went to college, her one imperfection had grown in my mind to the point that I actually considered breaking up with her for good, this time. Which would have been awkward, because we had decided to go to the same college. I assume that any man, and even most women, reading this could guess what my problem with Tess was. Right-she was a serious prude. And that is what this story is about.

Being a red blooded teenager, spending so much time with my beautiful girlfriend made me incredibly horny. Ultimately, in 10th grade, Tess kissed me, but with no tongue, which only became available to me at the end of the year, and then only fleetingly. At the start of 11th grade, after months of slapping my hands away, she let me touch, but not rub, her breasts, but only over her shirt. And below the waist—let’s just say that my forays into that region were consistently and strongly rebuffed. My whining pleas for her to help relieve my raging hard-ons were met with a crinkled nose (which made her look so damn cute) and the word “Gross.”

Every time I heard that one of my friends had advanced to another “base” with his girlfriend, I was jealous. But I wasn’t upset because I was losing some race, it was because I really wanted our relationship to progress and to be able to give each other pleasure. I wanted to make her feel good as much as I wanted her to give me pleasure. O.K, maybe not as much, but it was pretty close. Really.

So, why did I put up with this, and how? “Why” is easy—I was in love with Tess. Wildly in love. I was happy when I was with her, if sexually frustrated, and sad when we were not together. And “how” is probably pretty obvious. Internet porn and lots of jerking off, for the most part.

At the beginning of the summer after 11th grade, I felt like I couldn’t take it anymore. It was a Friday afternoon, and I was sitting, as I often did, on Tess’ bed, and she was leaning against me as we watched some old TV show on her laptop. As always, she smelled amazing, and I buried my nose in her beautiful hair. Ignoring the laptop, I looked down and could actually see a way down Tess’ shirt. I couldn’t see much, but the view of her pale chest, the curve of the top of her breasts, a bit of cleavage and her utilitarian white bra was enough to make me hard. Which, of course, Tess felt against her back, and when she shifted her body to avoid the hardness, it only made it worse.

“Are you staring down my shirt, Alex?” she asked, not in a sexy way, but in an accusing way.

“Yes,” I said, “And I like what I see, and I really wish you would let me touch you there.” Over the years, I had stopped trying to play games with Tess, and we generally said what we wanted to each other. It mostly kept things open and worked, but occasionally, someone took offense, which we usually patched up a day or two later.

“I do let you,” she said.

“Yeah, but barely, and only over your clothes,” I sort of whined.

“Why is that so fucking important to you?” she asked.

“Because you are gorgeous, and I love you, and I want to feel your beautiful body and give you pleasure,” I blurted out, for what seemed the millionth time.

“I’m not ready,” she said, primly.

I started to get angry. “Elana and Bill are having sex. Jeannie and Mike are, too. Janet and Elliot might as well be, considering what I hear they are doing. And they all say it is fun and feels bahis firmaları good. And they feel closer to each other.”

Tess snapped back, “That’s not what I hear, at least not from Elana. And anyway, we are already close. Why do we need sex? Look what happened when Emily and Howard did it? They broke up right away.”

“Yeah, but that is a bad example. Howard is an idiot, and Emily is a crazy paranoid jealous bitch. They weren’t a good couple. We are.” I paused, and tried to speak more calmly. “Tess, I want you badly. I’m not saying we need to go right to sex right away, but I need more. I just don’t understand why you won’t. We’ve always been honest with each other, but you have never explained to me why you are open to me in every way except this.”

I’m not sure Tess really thought about what she said next, but she sat up and spat back at me, “If you aren’t getting what you need from me, then maybe we aren’t the good couple you think.”

I know that I wasn’t thinking clearly, but I was pissed and my frustration just boiled over. “Then maybe we should break up,” I said, almost shouting. I stood up and walked out so that Tess couldn’t see me crying. I heard a sob coming from her room, but I couldn’t turn back.

It was a hot day, and it took a while for the a/c in my car to make a difference, so I was sweating, in part, from the heat. As I drove home, I couldn’t believe that I did it, but I found myself getting angrier and angrier with Tess. Why was she frustrating me so? I was honest with her, and I can’t believe that after all these years, and our friendship, she thought that I would hurt her in any way. The truth was exactly the opposite. I wanted to suck on what I assumed were her beautiful nipples until she moaned with lust. I wanted to lick what had to be her perfect pussy until she screamed with delight, and I wanted to fill her with my hard cock until she came repeatedly, yelling my name. I had dreamt of that for years. But apparently that was not going to happen.

I went home, stormed upstairs, changed into my work clothes, avoided my parents and my little sister, and drove to the restaurant where I was a busboy and sometimes waiter.

About midway through my shift, I took a break and grabbed some food for a quick dinner. I was joined, as I occasionally was, by Lara, a summer waitress who was a couple of years older than me and had finished her first year in college. She had gone to high school a few towns over, and we had met at the restaurant. Although we had worked together for a couple of years, we really didn’t talk much on breaks, simply refueling and resting for the rest of the shift. I thought she was O.K. looking, with a nice set of tits, but her nose was a little big, and her hips were maybe a little wider than average.

“Why are you so pissy tonight?” she asked, taking a bite of the burger that the restaurant let the waitstaff eat.

“Is it so obvious?” I asked.

“Yeah. Usually you are Mr. Happy, smiling and all, and today, you seem like you want to kill someone.”

She smiled at me to signify that she was joking, and I thought that maybe she was prettier than I remembered. “I broke up with my girlfriend about 3 hours ago,” I said. It was easier to tell someone who didn’t really know me or Tess, than a friend who would probably freak out about the end of the town’s longest running relationship.

“Sorry. That sucks,” she said, taking another bite. “Why?” she asked.

I was surprised that she asked—I figured that most people wouldn’t go that far with a relative stranger, but on the other hand, there were people who just needed to know gossip, even if they didn’t know the people involved all that well.

“Well,” I said, hesitantly, “she kinda, wouldn’t—”

Lara interrupted, smiling a little fiendishly, “She wouldn’t fuck you?”

I was a little taken aback, but nodded, and said, “Worse, she wouldn’t do anything past a little kissing and letting me touch her breasts over her shirt.”

Lara shook her head with the worldliness of a college freshman and asked, “How long have you been dating.”

“Basically since middle school,” I said, sheepishly.

“And you held on this long with no action?” she said, incredulous.

I nodded. “She is amazing in every other way, and I love her, but I finally couldn’t take it anymore,” I explained. “We fought, and I broke up with her.” I was angry and hurt, but still wished that we were together.

“Well,” Lara said, “I think I know what you need. Some of my friends from high school are having a little party in Thompson Park tonight. I’m heading over after my shift. Why don’t you come along, have a few beers and try to forget.”

I knew that wouldn’t get me to forget Tess, or how crappy I felt, but it seemed like a pretty good plan under the circumstances. I finished my shift, texted my father that I was going out, and found Lara, who had changed from her uniform into a pair of tight jeans and a low cut t-shirt. The jeans hugged her hips kaçak iddaa and butt, and rather than making them look big, it looked sexy. And the t-shirt highlighted her impressive breasts, and showcased her tan cleavage. Her nose was still a little big, but she looked pretty good, and she had a certain look in her eye that was promising. I followed her to the employee lot, and trailed her car to the park.

It was a warm, sultry night and suffice to say, feeling as down as I did, I had a few cold beers, sometimes pressing the cold, sweating bottle against my forehead. Lara convinced me to take a walk in the park, where we kissed and we got progressively naked. I truly enjoyed doing things with her that Tess would not allow, but before we went too far, I asked, “Is this a pity thing?”

Lara looked at me, and I took my eyes off of her large areolae and hard, dark nipples for a second and looked her in the eyes. “To be fair,” she said, “it is a little. A nice looking, nice guy like you should not be a virgin at your age—how old are you, by the way?”

“Eighteen and a half,” I said, realizing that I sounded like a little kid—”Almost 19.”

She smiled, I assumed at my immaturity, and said, “but in part, not. I broke up with my boyfriend at the end of the semester, and I’m kind of horny. So I see this as a win-win. Now, do you want to talk, or do you want to fuck?”

We dropped to the grass and very shortly thereafter, I was no longer a virgin. I could go into detail about what we did that night, or most nights for the rest of the summer (and a few afternoons), but that is not what this story is about. What I will say is that Lara taught me that I had been right—sex is fun, it feels good and it does bring a couple closer. She also taught me what gave her pleasure and how to give it to her, and I learned what I liked. Lara was a smart, interesting woman. We enjoyed each other’s company and had a great summer, but when she had to go back to school, I was sad, but not heartbroken. We promised to see each other over her breaks, and that I would visit her at school, but it never happened.

During that summer, I ran into Tess occasionally, sometimes when I was with Lara, and it was incredibly awkward and painful, because I still loved her. I never saw her with another guy, and never saw anything on Facebook that indicated that she was seeing anyone. Considering her obvious charms, I figured that either her frigid reputation had gotten around, or that she was just not interested.

On the Saturday of Labor Day Weekend, right before school started, I got a text from Tess—the first one since we had broken up. “Meet me at noon,” was all that it said. Since she didn’t say where, I assumed that she meant our place at the creek in Ridge Park. Obviously, it wasn’t “our” place, but we had been going there forever, to sit on the bank of the creek, tossing rocks and crap in, and talking. It was also where I first held Tess’ hand (other than as her buddy on an elementary school class trip), and where I first kissed her (when we weren’t playing spin the bottle in middle school). I knew that she chose the place for a reason, but I wasn’t sure yet what the reason was. But I could hope.

When I got there, Tess was already in our spot. Although it was a hot summer day, it was cooler under the trees. As I approached, I could see her back, and her hair tumbling down freely. Then I could see that she was wearing shorts, displaying her long, beautiful pale legs. I felt that same happy feeling that I always had in her presence, a feeling that I had missed for the past couple of months. But now it was tempered with a twinge of regret along with a great deal of lust. I thought of how much I wanted to do to and with Tess what I had done to and with Lara, and I knew how much she would like it, if she only would loosen up and let me.

She must have heard me approach, because she turned her head, and flashed me a smile that lit up her face. I sat down next to her, and for a while, we sat there, tossing rocks and crap into the creek and watching it flow downstream, like we used to do when we were kids. I wanted to say something, but I didn’t know what.

Instead, it was Tess who broke the silence. “I’m sorry, Alex,” she said, simply.

“Sorry for what?” I asked, because although I sort of thought I knew, I wanted to hear her say it.

“Sorry for not doing all of the things that I know you want. For basically not doing almost anything that you want, really.”

I was silent. I still yearned for her, but I wasn’t sure that I could be with her, but not “be” with her. “So, what does that mean?” I asked. I knew that this was hard for her, even if I didn’t understand why, and I figured that she needed to say what she wanted so I could figure out what I wanted, if that makes any sense.

“It means that I fucking miss you, and I’m sorry that my neuroses or fears or whatever meant that you are unhappy and that we aren’t together. You know that you are my best friend, and maybe my only kaçak bahis real friend.”

“You know I feel the same way about you,” I said, softly.

Tess reached over and covered my hand with hers. It was slightly damp from the ground, but I felt an almost electric shock when she touched me. If this was a story, and not real life, we would kiss, Tess would roll over on her back, and we would make tender, passionate love under the trees, and be happy forever. And I would have loved for that to happen. But, of course, it didn’t.

Instead, she said, “Alex, I cannot imagine being apart from you during senior year. I’ve always assumed that we would be together, go to prom and graduate as a couple. And I still want that. But I also know that things have changed for you this summer. I know that you have been with Lara, and I’m fairly confident that you and she—”

I interrupted. “You don’t have to say it. Yes, we had sex, and it was great and all, but you should know that every time we did, all I wanted was for it to be you.”

She paused and looked like she was going to cry. I squeezed her hand and waited.

“What I was going to say,” she said, softly, “was that I can’t promise you that. I can promise you that I will try to be more open, more physical, but I can’t guarantee anything. If you can accept that, then please let’s get back together. But I understand that might not work for you, especially now after you’ve had some experience, so if that is the case, then I will understand, and will not get in your way if you want to see other girls.”

I wasn’t sure what to say to make this right, so I decided to ask what I wanted to know. “What is the problem?” Then it struck me, on TV or in books, when a girl is afraid of sex, she must have been abused, so I asked, “Were you, you know-“

But this was real life, and, answers aren’t always so easily found. Tess turned to me, surprised. “No, it isn’t that. If it was that, I’d understand. But it isn’t that. No one has abused me, raped me, hurt me. I just don’t want to, and I don’t know why.” Her voice lowered to almost a whisper. “I wish I did; I wish for both of us that I was a normal horny teenager, but I’m not, and I hate that it has ruined what we had.”

I was quiet, as I thought about my options, and Tess decided to fill the silence.

“I even went to the doctor, the gynecologist, and she did a full checkup. I’m sure that you’ll be happy to know that the plumbing is all working right. It isn’t a physical thing. She said that I may just have a low libido. It could be hormonal, or psychological or something else, but she suggested that it was premature for me to use medication or anything. That maybe it would come to me naturally, eventually. But maybe not.”

So, I thought, I could be in a relationship with the girl I loved, and who loved me, and who was perfect in every way, but one. But was that one thing a deal breaker? I looked at Tess, really looked at her, and I realized that it wasn’t. I needed to be with her, and she had promised to try.

I leaned forward and gave her my answer by kissing her on her soft, full lips. She kissed me back, and even pushed her tongue into my mouth. I pulled her tight to me, and could feel her ample, firm breasts pressing into my chest, which caused my cock to immediately stiffen. We kissed for a while, and I ran my hands up and down her back. It seemed like she was enjoying herself, but after a while, and before I could try to touch anything else, she pulled away. There was a bit of a flush on her pale skin, and a look in her eye that was either fear, or lust, or some combination of both. I just couldn’t be sure. She stood up and I followed.

Without saying a word, I knew we were together again, and we walked, silently, holding hands, back to our cars, under the beating sun. Before we separated, I pulled her close to me, and we kissed. I put my hands on her perfect ass and pressed her against my crotch, and, for the first time, she didn’t resist. But she didn’t stay that way for long before disengaging, smiling at me, and getting into her car and driving away. I got into my car and drove home, happy.

When school started, it was as if we had never broken up. We slipped back into our routines of doing homework together, hanging out together, and going out with friends as a couple. We were co-editors of the yearbook, and easily coordinated, because she was more interested in the pictures and the business side, and I was more interested in the text and layout.

I could tell that Tess was trying to be more liberal about the physical part of our relationship. Ultimately, she let me see and fondle her actual breasts, and they were as beautiful and perfect as the parts of her that I had seen. She even let me kiss them occasionally, and seemed to enjoy my attention to her little pale nipples, and I was entranced by the sprinkling of freckles that broke up the uniformity of her alabaster skin. A few weeks after steeling herself and reaching into my pants to touch my cock, she began to somewhat regularly be willing to give me hand jobs, which went a long, long way to relieving my sexual tension. It wasn’t perfect, but it was much better than it had been.

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

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

Myra Tillis looked over what had been the spare bedroom of the house; nodding with satisfaction she closed the door. She had spent the better part of the last week preparing the small room. She had moved the single bed and small dresser against the one wall, and removed the other furniture. Purchasing an easel and flip paper, she hoped it would work for a replacement for a blackboard.

She had placed a standard desk from her downstairs office next to the easel, along with the office chair. Opposite she had put a smaller desk and chair for Tyler.

Glancing at the clock and seeing it was almost three-thirty, she headed for the living room. Tyler, her son, would be home from school soon and she wanted to be waiting. All this work had been for him, and Myra shivered at the thought of what she was going to do. Straightening her shoulders, she felt she needed to do something.

It had been the prior week, when she had arrived to pick up Tyler from his swim practice that all this had started. Sitting in the bleachers, she had arrived early and wanted to enjoy watching him practice.

That enjoyment had been short lived as she listened to the boys horsing around as practice wound down. Sure, some had been directed at others, but it was what was directed at her son Tyler, that had struck the thirty-six year old mother so hard that evening.

Words like Geek or Nerd she could live with. Myra had raised Tyler to be a gentleman and to focus on his studies. Being a struggling single mother, she wanted the best for her son, and she knew education was the key. No, it was the other words that echoed in her mind. Like pussy or wuss, or even worse Momma’s Boy.

Myra had expected Tyler to rage back, but was shocked when her son just took the abuse. He had not even made any comments, simply walked away. Was her son really a Momma’s Boy? She wondered. Had she so focused on him being a gentleman, she had somehow neglected how to be a man.

Tyler had just turned eighteen, and was now the man of the house. She realized, with horror, she was partly at fault. She had treated him as a child, in her own way hoping to keep him to herself. He needed to stand on his own two feet, be assertive and strong.

Myra had thought hard how to help her son; finally, the idea of simply ‘teaching’ him had crept in. The change of the bedroom to a small private classroom was the beginning. Tonight, would be their first ‘class”, she hoped things went well.

Tyler arrived at home, and headed to his room after giving his mother a kiss on the cheek. The smell of her perfume filled his nostrils, and he hustled away before she could see the reaction it caused in his body.

In his room he changed into a t-shirt and jeans, all the while remembering the long day. He couldn’t wait for school to end, and then he could get a fresh start. New place, new friends and people who didn’t know him might make the difference, all the while deep inside, he wondered if he could really change between now and the fall.

After dinner, Tyler returned to his room, this time using his laptop to pull up one of his favorite sites. He needed some release after the long day. He stared at the screen as he watched a mature woman sitting on her couch, then a young man entered the room and slowly began to massage her shoulders.

Not needing a plot, it only took moments before the older woman was stretched on the couch, and the young man was almost mauling her large breasts. Tyler glanced at the title at the bottom of the clip. Momma Does It Right, oh yeah he thought.

Tyler could feel his cock stiffening in his jeans as he watched the young man slide his hand under the skirt of his make believe mother. Just then, he heard a light tap on his door. Fuck, he thought. Quickly he stopped the movie and then closing the lap top, he told his mother she could come in.

When Myra entered his room, she noticed the laptop and Tyler at his desk. A quick glance at his lap confirmed for her, he had been just getting ready to masturbate. She was not naive, she knew Tyler masturbated. After all, she did his laundry. It wasn’t something she brought up, after all everyone did it, even her.

The timing had been perfect, she wanted Tyler a little agitated if this was going to work. She stood beside her son, placing one hand on his broad shoulder.

“Honey, I wanted to talk to you.” Myra told him.

“Sure mom, what’s up?” Tyler looked up at his mother. He tried to keep his eyes focused on her face, not daring to let them drop to the full breasts only inches from his face.

“I wanted to talk to you about practice last week” Myra started.

“Mom, I told you” Tyler cut her off. “It’s no big deal. The guys were horsing around and I am fine.”

“If you are so fine” Myra said. “Why are you angry?” She looked at her son. “Having your manhood questioned is not what any male should have to endure.”

Tyler sighed heavily. He knew his mother was right; it did hurt when the others poked at him. What was he supposed to do? illegal bahis Punch them?

“Look Mom” Tyler said softly. “I’ll figure this out, OK”

“Come with me” Myra said softly. She leaned down and took her son by the hand.

Tyler was confused as his mother led him from his bedroom. What did she have in mind? He stared as they entered the spare bedroom, and he recognized what looked like a made up classroom. He slowly sat in the desk as his mother led him over. Then, Tyler watched as his mother stood facing him from the other desk.

“It is ten minutes to seven” Myra glanced at the clock. “I have ten minutes to explain.”

Tyler sat quietly as his mother spoke. As she explained what she had in mind, he went from confused, to angry, to simply dazed. She couldn’t be serious.

“Every week day” Myra told her son “from seven until eight, we are going to have class. I will teach you Anatomy, biology, psychology, sociology. All the things it takes to be a man.”

Myra walked to the easel. “The first forty-five minutes will be lecture. The last fifteen minutes will be lab.”” She picked up the marker from the stand. A lot of the beginning may seem redundant. I don’t know how in depth public school goes. I, however, will hold nothing back, so you may be a bit shocked.”

“You may take notes if you wish, or just simply listen” Myra continued. “The choice is yours. The lab will be directed by you, and only you. You will see what I mean as we progress.”

Tyler was going to object to the absurdity of this, but saw the determined look in his mothers’ face. Knowing better than to argue with her; he simply sat and waited. He wondered what she meant by more ‘in depth.’

Tyler sat stunned as his mother began a list of words on the blank page. Penis, Dick, Cock, Rod, Prick, even Fuck Stick; were all listed. Next to that list, she began a second row. Pussy, Clam, Cunt, Snatch and Box; all the names for a woman’s anatomy… Jesus, Tyler realized, she really wasn’t holding anything back.

Tyler stared as a third group appeared at the bottom. Make love, copulate, Breed, Fuck, Bang. They were all there he realized.

“Now” Myra continued. “Let’s start with the male. When would it be proper to use each word? There IS a right time and place for each one.” She put a small check next to each as she went through the list.

“Penis” she told Tyler. “Something you might tell your doctor. While a dick is something your male friend has.” She smiled. “Now a rod is something you hold onto, so when you spend your time alone in your room, you are jerking your rod.”

Tyler coughed loudly as he realized his mother was implying he masturbated. She knew, he realized with horror.

“Don’t worry baby” Myra said softly. “Every man jerks his rod, just like every woman fingers her clam.”

“Now his cock” Myra continued. “”That is something a man has when he gets it sucked or stroked by someone else. Preferably by the opposite sex.” She added.

“Jesus Mom” Tyler exclaimed.

“A fuck stick” Myra ignored her sons’ outburst. “That is what you put into a cunt when you fuck a woman.”

For the next forty minutes, Myra went through every part of both the female and male anatomy. As she finished with the various descriptions for a woman’s breasts; Tyler couldn’t help but notice how hers hung firm and full, with small pebbles pressing against the fabric of her blouse.

“All right” Myra told her son. “Lecture is now over. You have fifteen minutes for lab, what would you like to do for today’s lab?”

Tyler sat half in a daze; he could feel his cock straining at his jeans after the graphic descriptions his mother had given him. His eyes hungrily looked at her full chest straining at her blouse.

Myra knew exactly where her son was looking, but remained silent. This had to be him, this was the key, she realized.

“Can I…can I see your breasts?” Tyler asked hesitantly.

“Are you asking?’ Myra replied.

“Yes” Tyler barely got out.

“Then the answer is no” his mother told him. She watched his stunned face.

Walking over, Myra leaned down in front of her son; she knew her large breasts were now filling his frenzied vision. “A man doesn’t ask Tyler” she said in a soft voice. “A man tells.”

His mother abruptly told him class was over for the night, they would resume tomorrow. Tyler sat and watched as his mother strode from the room, her tight ass the last sight. The last words she had said echoed in his mind as he slowly returned to his room.

The next night, Wednesday, Tyler finished his homework in record time, and then considered watching a porn movie. His mind kept wandering back to the clock. By seven he was almost in a state of rabid need as he heard a soft tap on his bedroom door, and the receding step of his mother.

Mutely, Tyler sat through the forty-five minutes of lecture, as his mother reviewed sensitivity spots on both a male and female. That she knew all a man’s sensitive spots came as a shock to the young illegal bahis siteleri man.

After the lecture, Myra looked at her son. It was time to see if he had learned, she realized.

“What would you like for lab today?” she asked.

“Show me your breasts” Tyler said without hesitation.

Myra knew they had now reached the line. To cross it would be no going back, but she was determined to help Tyler on his passage to manhood. Without a word, she slowly unbuttoned her blouse, pulling the material free; she set it on the desk beside her.

“Jesus” Tyler moaned when his mother turned back. He knew her 36D’s by heart. How many times had he jerked off into the cups? Now, he stared at the mounds of flesh barely contained in a white lacy bra.

Her bra, Tyler realized. She had kept it on. Why? He wondered. Then, something in the list clicked in his mind.

“Show me your tits” the young man said firmly.

“You’re learning” Myra smiled. Without another word she reached behind her back and undid the clasp to her bra.

Letting the lacy garment slide down her arms she felt her full tits appear before her son. Was she going too far? She wondered. The stunned but hungry look in her son’s eyes told her she had accomplished goal number one. Tyler had learned to not ask, but SAY what he wanted.

Tyler could only sit and drink in the vision of his mothers’ beautiful breasts. The curve as they stood proud. Even her hard nipples stood out straight. Hard nipples, he thought. Jesus, is she turned on or just the cool air of the small room he wondered.

A small buzz sounded behind Myra. She stepped towards her son, letting him see her breasts in close-up. She felt her nipples stiffening even harder under his lust filled gaze.

“Lab is now over” she whispered. “You are learning baby” her voice not able to hide the huskiness.

For the next week, Tyler listened to his mother lecture about how to be assertive without being aggressive and the difference between being in charge and following. Each lesson sank into the young man’s mind as he tried different things for each lab session.

Simple directions like showing her tits or even removing her slacks, followed by more complex commands. Playing with her nipples or even teasing herself over her panties. As Tyler watched the growing wet spot on the thin garment, he then knew his mother was as turned on as he was.

By the second week Tyler wanted more, he decided it was time to put the lessons his mother had been giving him to the true test. This time, instead of waiting for her in his room, Tyler was already seated in his chair when Myra entered the room. She looked at her son in surprise.

“A bit eager today aren’t you?” Myra asked with a smile.

Instead of answering, Tyler watched the clock. He wanted this timed just right. Just as the clock ticked 7pm, before his mother could speak, he raised a hand to silence her.

“Today is a full lab session” Tyler said firmly. “You will now strip.”

“I don’t think…” Myra started to say, only to be interrupted.

“Then don’t think mother” Tyler said quickly. “It wasn’t a request…strip” he added in a stronger voice.

Myra felt a shudder run the length of her spine. Tyler couldn’t mean…she could feel the control she had exercised for over the last week simply shatter in that moment.

Tyler rose from his chair and stood in front of his mother, his eyes locked to hers. She could smell his aftershave as she tried to stare back, and then letting her eyes drop. As if they had a will of their own, her hands undid the buttons on her blouse, letting the cloth fall to the floor. Following it with the pale pink bra she wore, she felt her son’s eyes burn into her skin.

Hooking her thumbs into the waist band of her yoga pants, she shimmied the cloth over her hips, as it gather at her feet she used one foot to lightly kick the material to the side. She stood in just her pink panties, her breathing ragged.

“Tyler…I…” Myra tried to whisper.

“All of it…now,” His voice was like a hypnotic command in her ears.

“Oh God” Myra moaned as she slowly slid her panties down and let them fall to the floor.

Tyler watched as his mothers’ bare pussy came into view. She was clean shaven so when she had demonstrated her anatomy Tyler had a clear view. He could see small droplets of moisture starting to collect on her outer lips.

“Sit on the desk” Tyler commanded. “Show me how wet that pussy is.” He told his mother.

With a moan, Myra slid back onto the desk, letting her legs splay open. She watched as Tyler knelt between her thighs, she could feel his hot breath on her thighs he was so close. Reaching down, she used her fingers to spread her outer lips open, letting him gaze into her moist pink interior.

“How wet are you?” Tyler asked. “Tell me.” He directed his mother.

“Soaked…I am soaking wet” Myra gasped. “Oh God…don’t do this Tyler.” She begged.

“Show me how wet” Tyler didn’t canlı bahis siteleri relent. He only had an hour and he planned to take full advantage of it. “Shove a finger into that wet cunt” he choice of changing words sending a bolt through Myra.

“Tylerrrrrrrr” Myra moaned, but unable to stop herself as she jammed her finger deep into her wet cunt.

“That’s it mother” Tyler hissed. “Finger that wet cunt.” He said

Tyler wasn’t sure how far his mother would go, but he was starting to understand her depths as much as his own. Just as he needed to learn to take control, it seemed Myra needed to BE controlled.

For Myra, it was as if she had slipped back to being eighteen again. As a strong older man took charge of her, putting her into the position where her son had been created. This time the ‘man’ was her son, but the voice and strength were the same to her. She looked through lidded eyes and watched as her son gazed between her lewdly splayed thighs. She could hear the wet squelch as now two fingers pumped in and out of her dripping cunt.

Tyler could smell his mothers’ heat, and watch as her cream dripped out to puddle on the desk under her ass. He glanced up and saw he was quickly running out of time, rising to his feet he stared into his mothers’ eyes.

“You like that, don’t you mother.” His voice was strong and clear. “Fingering your wet cunt in front of your son.” He told her.

“Oh God Tyler” Myra could only grunt in return.

“I bet your pussy juice tastes so sweet” his voice hissed in her ear.

“Unnghhh” Myra shuddered violently at his words.

“Taste it mother” he directed his mother. “Show me how good you taste.”

Without taking her eyes from Tyler, Myra pulled her soaked fingers free and slid them into her open mouth.

“Mmmmmmmm” the wanton mother mewled. She rolled her fingers across her tongue, savoring her juices as they slid down her throat.

Before Tyler even needed to tell her, Myra had shoved her fingers back deep into herself, hearing the obscene wet sucking as her tight walls pulled them inside.

“Oh fuck”” she gasped. “I’m going to cum.” She moaned.

“Not yet!” Tyler barked, causing her eyes to snap open and stare at him.

Her eyes widened as she realized his jeans were now undone and he was holding his throbbing cock in his grip. Oh God, he wouldn’t she thought. Yet, with a dark certainty, Myra knew at that moment, she would have welcomed him inside her.

“Give me your fingers” Tyler commanded her.

Without hesitation, Myra pulled her now drenched fingers free of her clenching hole, and slid them between her sons’ lips. Her body shook violently as she watched him suck her juices off her shaking hand.

“Mmmmmmmm” Tyler murmured. “Fucking delicious” he mumbled through his full mouth.

“Oh shit!” Myra grunted as the orgasm lurking deep in her belly suddenly burst free.

Coming” Myra keened. “Oh my Godddddddddd” her body jerked as she felt her cunt cream gush out of her untouched holed, forming a river onto the desk.

Watching his mother orgasm, as the scent and taste of her filled his senses, drove Tyler over the edge. He felt his cock throb in his grip.

“Oh Fuck Mom” he grunted around her fingers.

Through lust hazed eyes Myra watched as his cock jerked, and then a thick rope of hot cum arched out between them, to splash across her belly. She could feel the thick cream begin to ooze down her skin closer to her quivering cunt.

“Give it to me…please” she gasped.

Tyler pulled his mouth free and shuffled closer. The next thick rope, of hot cum came jetting out and splattering over her gaping cunt lips. He felt like his balls were emptying on the spot as his hot cum exploded out again and again.

Myra’s eyes rolled back as her body sank back onto the desk, gasping to catch her breath. Dimly she heard the buzz of the timer behind her signaling the end of class.

Tyler slipped his softening cock back into his jeans, looking down at his nude mother splayed out on the desk. This was going to be interesting, the young man thought. He knew he had to take this slow, or his mother might start to fight back. One step at a time he quietly thought as he left the room.

Still in a haze of lust, Myra’s mind whirled. What had she unleashed on herself? She thought. She could feel her son’s cum slowly drying on her belly and between her thighs, while the wet puddle on the desk under her ass reminded her how her own body had betrayed her.

This can’t go any further, she thought with horror. She had to reassert control again, these classes were to help Tyler become a man, not help him seduce his own mother.

For the next week Myra kept the classes on a more direct approach. She deliberately skipped having a lab for two sessions. Then, when she resumed them, it was more towards how to approach a woman, talk to her.

It was on Thursday that Myra was surprised by a comment from her son. She was stunned when he admitted he had never kissed a girl. He was eighteen, he had to have at least gotten that far, she thought.

Standing next to her son she looked up into his eyes. She could feel the electricity in the room growing. Once again, she found herself treading on dangerous ground.

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Author’s Note: This is a fetish story involving gross bodily functions.

*

I’m a gross person. I’m gonna tell you that right off the bat. This story is about the gross stuff that comes out of my ass, and the effect it has on people.

I’ve always known there was something strange about me. Even as a little girl. Whenever I got done using the potty – I mean going number two – there was a good chance my mom and dad would start giving each other looks, and then head off to the bedroom together. They weren’t shy, either: they’d say something like, “We’re going to try making you another sister to play with. Won’t that be fun?”

“Sure!”

Then I’d hear the bed squeaking from upstairs, while they went about their vigorous baby-making. I ended up with four little sisters this way.

As I got older, I slowly realized that my digestive system produced some kind of sex pheromone or aphrodisiac, and it came out whenever I pooped or farted. I wasn’t immune to my own scent, either: whenever I passed gas, I got as horny as anyone else.

Over time, I learned to keep a lid on myself. I became the sort of buttoned-up woman who never farts in public, and who only poops when she’s alone in the house.

I’ve endured my share of awkwardness for this. If you’re a guy, you may not understand how gross girls can be after eating large meals together. It wasn’t hard to notice that I was holding it in – the only girl not farting, or not blowing up the bathroom – and soon I had a reputation for being stuck-up. I can’t really blame them: when one person is holding back, it makes everyone else feel awkward.

Sometimes I’d fart accidentally, of course – everyone does. Whenever it happened, I’d notice the effects on my friends immediately. Their faces would flush, and our conversation would quickly pivot to the guys we liked and what we hoped to do to them. But our horniness would subside eventually, and nothing weird would usually happen.

In my early 20s I had some health issues, and my pheromones seemed to get weaker for a couple of years… but as I recovered, they came back with a vengeance. The incident I’m about to describe happened during when I was 24, while my pheromones were growing more powerful than ever.

I was hanging out with my best friend, Kat. We’d been close friends in high school and community college, and we’ve only gotten closer since then. But now she was going back to school for her bachelors degree, and I hadn’t seen her in months. She’d changed a little: she had become a vegan, for instance. She’d been pretty “girly” in high school – lots of pink, great makeup, very interested in boys – but now she’d developed more of an indie streak. She wore her dark hair in a sloppy ponytail, and she had tight threadbare jeans and a man’s button-down shirt.

I’ve always been jealous of Kat, to be honest. Skinny with a small ass, she could wear any clothes she wanted. I’m much trickier to dress. Although I’m average weight, my butt and thighs are huge compared to my waistline. I hardly have any boobs, so I can’t fill out a dress… but my nipples are always poking out, so I can never go braless, either. Kat, of course, has had perfect tits since puberty.

She came over my house for lunch, and we spent a few hours catching up. Kat lived in an crowded apartment at her college, while I still hadn’t moved out of my parents’ place.

Kat had no boyfriend; in fact, she hadn’t gotten laid in months. Personally, I was luckier in that respect; I’ve never had much trouble finding hookups, as you can probably imagine. We ran a few errands together and went for a bike ride, and in the evening we decided to chill in my parents’ basement and watch TV – just like old times. For dinner, Kat whipped up something vegan-friendly. It was a sort of bean-and-spinach casserole, using leftovers from my fridge.

After we ate, we settled on the couch together. We found a show we liked on Netflix and started binge-watching.

It wasn’t long, however, before I started feeling gassy. The first time I needed to fart, I pretended I’d forgotten something upstairs. The second time, I excused myself and used the bathroom for a few minutes.

When I returned to the couch, I noticed a new smell. I wrinkled my nose. “Geez, Kat – have you been sitting here farting, or what?”

“Uh, maybe,” she admitted, laughing. “That’s the only problem with vegan food. I think my roommate hates me.”

“What, she gives you shit for farting?” I asked.

“No, she just gives me dirty looks. That girl NEVER farts. She probably goes to the bathroom to do it.” Kat made a face. “I mean, it’s supposed to be our personal space!”

“Yeah, if you can’t be comfortable in your own room…”

“Yeah.” Kat waved her hand. “Anyway, Emily – I know you have a thing about farting in front of other people, but I’m granting you permission. No need to be embarrassed.”

We settled back in for more TV. We were watching Supernatural – and yes, we both had a crush on Dean. We planned to re-watch Season 3 until we fell illegal bahis asleep on the couch.

I was still feeling gassy, of course, but I’d run out of excuses to leave the room. I just clenched my sphincter and suffered in silence, while my bowels made unhappy gurgling sounds.

After half an episode, Kat released an audible fart. When I gave her a look, she said, “Uh, excuse me. I thought that would be silent.” Then she giggled. “I’ve actually been stealth farting for about ten minutes here.”

“I know!” I teased her. “I felt the vibrations on the couch!”

“You did not!” She pushed me, laughing. “You would’ve said something!”

I would have kept messing with her, but at that moment my bowels gurgled painfully. I made a face.

“Jesus, Emily,” Kat said. “You’re still sitting there holding it in?”

“Uh…”

“C’mon! Just let it out already!”

I bit my lip, thinking about the consequences of releasing sex pheromones into the room. We were both straight, so I figured nothing much would happen. We’d sit around and feel horny for a while; it wouldn’t be the end of the world.

“Okay,” I said, “but just because you asked…”

Leaning to the side, I unclenched my sphincter and got relief immediately. A powerful hiss of air began to rush out of me. It was the kind of fart that makes your pants feel looser. It lasted a long time.

“Oh, thank god…” I sighed.

Kat laughed, listening to my sustained release. “It’s still coming out! You must have felt like a balloon!”

After nearly ten seconds, the fart finally ended. “That was just the first one,” I warned Kat, giggling. “You’re in for it now.”

“We’ve unleashed the beast!” she laughed.

We turned back to our show. Soon, the smell of my own gas reached my nostrils. I don’t have terribly stinky farts, but there’s something distinctive about the smell – a hint of sweat and crotch. It makes you think of sex.

As the pheromones took effect, I felt my body responding. My face grew hot, and my breath quickened. My nipples tingled, wanting to be touched. And a familiar pressure formed in my chest… a feeling that was hot and urgent inside me.

Kat shifted uncomfortably on the couch, blushing. I knew she was feeling it, too.

“Man,” she said, “I need to get laid. Just watching these guys is getting me…”

“Me too,” I said, glad to divert the blame.

Another fart was building up inside me. This time I let it rip freely, with a satisfying noise.

“The beast strikes again,” Kat said, smiling.

But on the TV, Dean Winchester had just taken his shirt off – a fairly frequent occurrence. Kat’s eyes snapped back to him.

“Shit,” she said, “I’d still let him fuck me. Anytime, anywhere.”

“Me too.” The fresh scent of my fart wafted up and filled our lungs. “I’d… kiss his chest.”

“Heh. Is that all?”

“Well, that’s how we’d start. Then I’d undo his pants and… start sucking him off.”

Kat shifted on the couch. “You’re very generous, Emily. Me, I’d start out a little differently.”

“Oh? Tell me.”

“I’d seduce him, take my shirt off and squeeze my boobs for him. Then I’d make him… suck on them.”

I glanced over at Kat, and saw that she was touching her own breast through her shirt. She noticed me looking, and pulled her hand away, blushing. “Sorry!” She tried to chuckle. “I got carried away for a sec.”

I motioned with my hand. “No, it’s fine.”

“It’s just that… like I said, I haven’t had sex in a long time.” She still looked apologetic. “I share my bedroom with another girl. It’s kinda hard.”

“It must be,” I said. “Do you even get a chance to – you know…?”

She nodded. “Sometimes I sneak home during the day when she’s gone. But even then, I feel like she could walk in any second. I don’t even get naked.”

“So you just…?”

“Through my clothes, yeah…”

We went back to watching our show in silence. By this time, we were farting openly, not even laughing or saying ‘excuse me’ anymore. I’m sure the room stunk to high heaven, but we’d gotten used to it – we were just swimming in the odor.

The accumulated effects of my pheromones were getting me unbearably horny. I was licking my lips watching the guys on TV, and it was hard to resist the urge to touch my nipples.

I looked over at Kat, and saw that she was squeezing her breast again. This time, she didn’t pull her hand away. “Sorry,” she breathed, looking at me. “Is this too weird?”

“No,” I said. And I began to touch my breast as well.

For me – and I think for a lot of women – breast play is super-important. When I masturbate, my first move is always to spend a few minutes on my boobs, gradually tweaking my nipples harder and harder. And when I’m with a guy, I’m not ready to take my pants off until he’s spent some time teasing my tits. I don’t have much to grab, but I do have big sensitive nipples, perfect for sucking and – after some warm-up – even biting.

I watched Kat from the corner of my eye. Her eyes were glued illegal bahis siteleri to the TV, and she was massaging her left breast with slow squeezing motions. She’d pick the boob up, grasp it hard in her fingers for a moment, and then let it fall again. Her breasts were much bigger and softer than mine, so I saw her fingers sinking deep into flesh.

I’m not going to lie. Even though I’m straight, I’ve always enjoyed looking at boobs. Watching Kat play with hers was turning me on even more.

Within a few minutes, I’d progressed to the stage where I wanted to pinch my nipple… but my bra was getting in the way, frustrating me.

When I slipped a hand under my shirt, Kat turned her head and looked at me. I blushed, suddenly self-conscious.

“Is this okay?” I asked.

She nodded. I unhooked my bra and worked my arms out of it, pulling it free beneath my shirt. My nipples appeared prominently through the fabric, and I felt Kat’s eyes on them.

“I’m just glad I’m not the only one who’s super horny,” she said. She laughed softly, mostly from embarrassment. “Maybe it’s my period coming.”

“Oh?” I asked. “You get horny before your period too?”

“Like crazy, yeah.” She raised an eyebrow. “Mine starts in two days. Are you…?”

Our menstrual cycles had been perfectly aligned for years. “Mine too!” I laughed.

“Best friends and period sisters forever,” she giggled. Some of the awkwardness in the room lifted.

I farted again, filling the room with more pheromones. Casually, Kat reached beneath her shirt and took her bra off, same as I’d done. Her boobs came free with a bounce, and I saw her nipples appear through the fabric of her button-down.

We turned our attention back to the television. Before long we were both touching our breasts again. I started off with gentle rubbing, but soon I was openly pinching my nipples through my shirt. I even started to use both hands, tweaking both my left and right sides.

Meanwhile, Kat had slipped a hand beneath her shirt, for direct hand-on-skin contact. She looked at me and asked, “Is this all right?”

I just nodded.

Kat farted softly, as I saw one hand – and then two – working rhythmically under her shirt. She lifted both breasts towards her chin, squeezed them together, and then let them down again slowly. Her breathing was starting to get heavier.

I farted, too, still feeling gassy. The urgent, horny feeling in my chest was starting to move downwards towards my crotch. I shifted my weight back on the couch, spreading my knees slightly. Things were getting distinctly warm down there, and I wanted to touch myself in earnest.

One episode of Supernatural ended, and I started the next one. The familiar opening credits came on. When Dean appeared, Kat gave a lusty growl.

“I wanna hump his face,” she murmured. She was half-serious, half-giggling, hands still firmly on her boobs.

“Look at us touching ourselves here, watching him.”

“Whatever, we’re just horny.” She glanced at me slyly. “Don’t make me feel pathetic, Emily.”

“I wouldn’t dare. All the cool girls masturbate together watching Supernatural.”

She laughed. “I’m just glad you’re comfortable with it. My roommate would call the cops if she saw me touching myself.”

“I’m glad you’re comfortable with me farting,” I said – and then I farted again.

Kat laughed again. “You’re gassy as hell tonight! I really did release the beast!”

“Hope we don’t ruin the couch.”

As the episode wore on, we continued to touch our breasts. But my pussy was getting that needy throb – that empty ache, begging to be filled. I squirmed on the couch, feeling the fabric of my jeans half-rubbing me.

Beside me, Kat was shifting around as well. Then I saw her hand move, and she started touching her crotch through her jeans.

I pretended not to notice for a while, absorbed in both the show and my own nipple play. Kat was beginning to move her hips rhythmically – subtle movements that she hoped I wouldn’t see – as she grinded into her hand. More than her fingers, she was using the flat of her palm to masturbate.

She cleared her throat, and I turned my head. She paused, looking at me, with her hand between her thighs. “Are you still comfortable with this?” she asked nervously.

“Yes,” I said.

She laughed loudly, a tension-releasing sound. “Thank god! I couldn’t stand it anymore!”

Then I was laughing too. “I’m glad you did it first!”

Unable to wait any longer, I reached between my own legs and began to rub. Kat watched my technique – I used the tips of two fingers, with almost a scratching motion over my jeans.

“I’ve never watched someone do this before,” she said.

“You don’t ever watch porn?”

“That’s different. I never saw someone do it through their pants, I don’t think. I use the palm of my hand, lots of pressure…”

“Mmm, I should try that too.”

Kat watched openly as I touched myself through my clothing. One hand was between her legs, rubbing canlı bahis siteleri her own crotch, and the other was still playing with her boob. Even in the dim light, I could see that her cheeks were flushed deep red.

Soon, we turned our eyes back to the TV, though we both continued masturbating. Kat was moving her hips slightly, rocking back and forth, while I laid back and let my hand do all the work.

I’m a lazy masturbator, I admit. I wouldn’t make a good porno actress. I tend to lay on my back, almost perfectly still, and go slow and steady for twenty minutes at a time. I like simple toys – I like to be filled – but I don’t do anything exciting with them. And I don’t really vocalize, not even when I cum. I need a guy for that.

Kat, however, was a little more demonstrative. Already her breathing had become audible – nothing but little gasps and sighs – and I sensed she was on the verge of moaning. The movement of her hips became more pronounced, to the point where she was humping her hand for real. And she was no longer watching TV at all; her eyes were closed, her lips parted.

“Fuck it,” she muttered. I heard the metal button of her jeans unclasping, then the sound of her zipper. “Is this okay?”

“Yes,” I said.

“I just really need this…” Her eyes closed, Kat shoved her hand down the front of her pants, slipping beneath her underwear. I caught a hint of her dark pubic hair as she leaned back to adjust her position. Her fingers bulged the crotch of her jeans – and then her whole body twitched once, visibly, as she touched herself directly.

“Mmmm!” Her sigh abruptly turned to a moan, before she caught herself.

Then, looking ashamed, she opened her eyes and glanced at me. “I’m sorry, Emily. This is so gross.”

I shook my head. “No, this is okay.”

“I’m just – so fucking horny tonight…”

Kat closed her eyes again, and I saw her hand moving steadily beneath her pants. “Mmmm…” she hummed softly. I thought I heard a faint wet sound – the shlick of her fingers sliding in and out.

I undid my own pants and shifted my weight to allow better access. Then I slipped my right hand downstairs, beneath my undies. Closing my eyes, I touched my fingers to my aching pussy.

I took it slow. Even when I’m super-horny, I’m always patient.

First, I ran my fingers lightly across my labia, back and forth for a while.

Then I softly probed the entrance to my vagina, checking my wetness.

Then I slid a finger or two inside myself for a while. Like I said, I enjoy being filled.

And then, finally, I began to carefully tease my clit. It’s too sensitive to touch directly, so I pressed my skin up against the hood in just the right way.

This process took a few minutes. Meanwhile, I kept one hand firmly squeezing my nipple. Breast play is important to me at every step of the way. The guys I’m with quickly learn this.

“Hrmmm…” Kat breathed. I could see she was masturbating much more vigorously than I was. She’d pulled her jeans down further – revealing half her bare ass – and had started using two hands on herself. From the motions I saw, she was using one hand to flick her bean, and the other to finger-fuck herself. She bucked her hips against the couch, her pants slipping further down with each movement.

Kat’s head had moved to the side, pressing against her shoulder. Her eyes were tightly shut, and she breathed hard, groaning softly – almost painfully – with each exhale.

For just a moment, she smiled in embarrassment. “I’m practically about to cum already,” she said with a quiet laugh.

“You’re lucky,” I said softly. “It takes me forever…”

“I feel it as soon as I touch my clit.” She took a deep, halting breath. “I’m real close…”

“You don’t have to hold back,” I said.

I sensed that Kat was a talker. I imagined watching her have sex with a guy – I bet it’d make a great porno.

“I’m gonna cum in like two seconds,” she murmured. “I’m gonna…”

I watched her whole face scrunch up, and she arched her back briefly as she tried to reach orgasm.

“Mmm, almost…” she breathed.

She rubbed her clit furiously, gritting her teeth.

“So close, I’m… Oh! Oh shit!”

The precise start of Kat’s orgasm was obvious. Her head was thrown backwards, and waves of tension and relief seemed to seize her whole body. Her vocalizations suddenly changed, her voice moving upwards in pitch. “Oh shit!” she squealed, “Oh, geez!”

Even for a straight girl, watching and hearing somebody cum is undeniably hot. Deep in my pants, I rubbed harder against my own clit; it was getting easier to touch myself directly as my own arousal grew.

Kat came down, panting a little, with her face flushed deep red. She hitched her pants back up, but didn’t re-button them.

“That looked like it felt awesome,” I said.

She giggled, still a little embarrassed. “Was I loud? Do you think…?”

“It’s fine, nobody’s home.”

She leaned back on the couch. “I really needed that.” She closed her eyes, chuckling softly. “I always cum so fast. I’m like a guy.”

“I’m jealous,” I said. My clit needed a break; now I was slowly sliding my fingers in and out of my vagina, hand hidden beneath my pants. “You have such easy orgasms.”

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
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Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
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About once a month the school where I work has a casual clothes day. There are rules about what the students can and can’t wear. The rules are stricter for the girls than the boys but that’s the way things are. It may not be politically correct, but it is common sense.

Notwithstanding these rules, and the rather strict way the Headmistress interprets them, some of the girls always try it on. Therefore I wasn’t too surprised to see Tiara flouncing along one of the corridors in an outfit that I was pretty sure broke all the rules. What I was surprised at was that it was lunch-time and Mrs Fogarty hadn’t blasted Tiara out of her pretty little socks and sent her home to change. I wandered down to see Mrs Fogarty, not having any real inclination to stop a teenager and discuss her choice of clothing with her.

“Have you seen Tiara?” I asked Mrs Fogarty.

“I have,” she said, giving me a killing look. It had no effect. Killing looks bounce right off me.

“And?” I prompted.

Mrs Fogarty tried to stare me down but I sat patiently waiting. Eventually she sighed.

“I called her in and gently reminded her of the casual clothing guidelines. She politely pointed out that she was eighteen and quite capable of deciding if her clothes fell within the guidelines or not. The clothes she was currently wearing suited her, she said, and every item was within the guidelines. What was my objection?

I whipped out the guidelines and started checking off the items she had on. Each item is within the guidelines. She even flashed her panties and bra at me and they’re within the guidelines. Maybe just by the thickness of the material, but within the guidelines.”

Mrs Fogarty gave me what could only be described as an evil smile.

“Of course, if you have a specific objection to any item that she’s wearing I would be quite happy to hear it.”

I spread my hands rather helplessly.

“If you say that she’s within the guidelines then I suppose it’s case closed. It’s just, just. . .” My voice trailed away as I gestured rather helplessly.

“It’s just that the totality of her outfit is, in this case, less than the sum of the parts?” suggested Mrs Fogarty.

“Couldn’t put it better myself,” I agreed. “Don’t the guidelines say anything about the girls looking like cheap hookers trolling for customers?”

“Unfortunately not. Skirts must be yay long, tops can’t show this or that, breasts can’t be displayed in any manner, things like that are covered. No-one considered that you could wear the stuff we authorise and still look like Tiara.

What’s worse, she’s a classroom lawyer. If I sent her home to change just because I don’t like her outfit she’d challenge it, waving the guidelines and threatening to go to the media. You know how they’d jump on something like this if it happens to be a slow news day.”

I nodded thoughtfully.

“You have a point,” I admitted. “Still, much as I hate it, I will have a gentle word in her shell-like ear, suggesting that a small alteration to her outfit would be a good thing. I am officially telling you this so she can’t come screaming sexual harassment.”

I didn’t rush straight off to find Tiara. I just made a mental note to speak to her when we crossed paths. I casually strolled around the school grounds, my presence curbing any over rumbustious behaviour, keeping an eye out generally. I finally saw Tiara parading around. She was swinging her hips, giving her skirt a little bounce as she walked which, combined with the slight breeze meant that there was the occasional flash of panties (which was against school policy, but hard to enforce).

As Tiara waltzed along she would catch the eye of a boy here and there, giving them what could only be described as ‘I know you want me’ looks, gloating at the way eyes tracked her.

After a while I worked out where she was heading and placed myself in a position where we would cross paths.

“Morning, Tiara,” I said, acknowledging the girls with her with a general nod in their direction.

“Afternoon, sir,” she said smirking.

I let that pass. I could see she was waiting for me to make some sort of comment on her clothes. Far be it from me to disappoint her.

“Tell me, Tiara, if you saw a man dressed in a police uniform, would you assume that he’s a policeman?”

“Either that or he’s going to a costume party,” she returned.

“A reasonable point,” I agreed. “I assume that you would think the same of someone dressed as a fireman?”

She nodded agreement without speaking.

“And if someone is dressed like a cheap prostitute?”

There was a bit of muttering amongst her companions, shocked at me inference.

“How can you tell from clothes if a woman is a prostitute?” asked Tiara. “Surely that’s in her behaviour rather than her dress?”

“You could say the same about a policeman,” I pointed out. “Ah, you’re not going to a party right now, are you?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. Just curious.” I also ran my eyes over illegal bahis her as I answered, and she flushed.

“As a matter of curiosity, how are you managing to beat the boys off? I’ve noticed them watching you.”

“I can handle the boys around here,” she said scornfully. “They’re all talk, anyway.”

“Unless you run into the football team,” I mused. “Then you might have a problem.”

Tiara flushed and looked as though she’d had enough of our conversation and wanted to be on her way. I waved her past, having one last little shot as she went.

“I wouldn’t worry too much. The juries don’t go for the ‘she was asking for it’ argument anymore.”

I promptly forgot about Tiara. She was Mrs Fogarty’s problem, not mine. I went about my normal duties, schools like to keep you busy. I remembered her and her odd attire when I spotted her just after the end of school bell. She was strolling in the direction of the sports fields. I found myself moving faster than I normally do as I hurried to cut her off.

“Tiara,” I said, stepping onto the path in front of her. She had to stop. Students don’t rudely push past teachers, even if the final bell had gone.

“What?” she asked, somewhat ungraciously.

“Still confident of your ability to handle the boys?” I asked.

“Why?”

“Oh, it’s just that I noticed Brandon the brute, football player extraordinaire, and three of his cohorts following you. They seemed to be watching you pretty closely. However, if you’re sure that you can handle them. . .”

At that moment Brandon and his mates walked slowly past, all of then giving Tiara the once over. Rather licentious looks they gave her, too.

Tiara watched them go, looking a little shaken. She became even more shaken after a few moments.

“Oh my god. They’ve stopped. They’re waiting by those bushes up ahead.”

“Useful things bushes,” I observed. “I can remember vanishing behind some bushes with my girlfriend when I was your age. They hide a lot of misdeeds, bushes do. Well, I’d better let you get on your way. I’m sure you have an appointment that you won’t want to miss.”

I cast a significant look at the boys and then ran my eyes over Tiara, letting her see my amusement.

“Wait!” she exclaimed. “Ah, I mean, can you wait a moment. I mean, can you make the boys go away?”

“They haven’t done anything wrong,” I pointed out. “They’re just standing there talking. If I speak to them they’ll just say they’re filling in some extra time prior to starting training.”

“Um, Brandon has a bit of a reputation,” Tiara said slowly.

She was right. A rather unsavoury one. If he hadn’t been a star player he would probably have been chucked out of school by now.

“Yes, he does,” I admitted. “Still, I’m sure you can handle him and his mates. There’re only four of them.”

The poor girl looked so scared I threw her a lifeline.

“I’m going back to my office,” I told her. “If you want to, you can come and wait in my office for half an hour. Training will have started by then and the way will be clear.”

I strolled back to my office, Tiara trotting alongside, chattering nervously. Once I reached my office I pointed to a chair for her to sit on and then made a phone call.

“Coach? It’s Greg. When your training session starts could you do me a small favour? I want you to take Brandon and those three idiots who tag along with him and run them into the ground. Run them until they puke and then run them some more. You can tell them that running is a good way to clear out unsavoury thoughts.”

“Ah, they didn’t actually do anything,” I replied to the coach’s question. “It is more a case of what they intended to do if I hadn’t taken certain steps to circumvent the situation. A young lady would have been involved, albeit unwillingly. I intend to kick the young lady’s butt around the school ground for being an idiot.”

“Thank you,” I said hanging up. The coach would get a kick out of running Brandon and company ragged. Maybe they’d get the message.

“What do you mean you’re going to kick my butt around the ground?” demanded Tiara.

“In a manner of speaking,” I said sitting back and contemplating her. “Let us consider your behaviour today. You came to school dressed like a cheap tramp. I know,” I said when she tried to interrupt. “Everything you have on is within the school guidelines. You played a cheap lawyer trick by pointing that out. Strictly speaking you’re in the right. Practically speaking, you still dressed like a cheap tramp. I bet your parents didn’t see that outfit before you left.”

From the nasty look I got I’d guess I was spot on about her parents.

“I wonder how your father will react when he sees the photo I took of you flirting with the boys at lunchtime. I’d love to hear his comments.”

“You didn’t,” came the horrified shriek.

I smiled and tapped my phone.

“I haven’t sent it yet. It depends on how well we work out a solution for your misbehaviour. Continuing on with your behaviour, you illegal bahis siteleri do know the school policy on sexual harassment, don’t you? It’s not to be tolerated. The way you dressed and the way you acted today can be construed as sexual harassment. If anyone was to make an official complaint to Mrs Fogarty I think she’d be quite pleased to review it. You would probably get off with an official warning and a letter to your parents.”

Tiara was starting to look distinctly ill.

“On top of all that, you seem to have been busy all day advertising the fact that you’re sexually active, want to get laid, and might not be too discriminating. Hence Brandon and friends thinking they were on a sure thing. You do realise that if they had dragged you behind the bushes and raped you most of the school would have believed you were agreeable. Asking for it, in fact.”

“It wasn’t like that,” protested Tiara. “I was just having a bit of fun, pushing the rules and teasing the boys.”

“Maybe so, but it’s not what you meant but how other people perceive your behaviour. They’ve put their own interpretation on it, hence Brandon’s interest. We put the rules in place for your protection. You bend and break them and bad things may happen. We have to be vigilant to protect you from your own stupidity. That’s why we punish infractions. Better a controlled punishment than letting you blunder into something that could be really bad.”

“So what are you going to do? I assume that you’re not going to literally kick me around the school grounds.”

“No. No kicking. I’m just going to invite you to take of your panties and lift up your skirt.”

“What?” Have you ever heard a whispered shout? That’s what Tiara’s query was like.

“Mm. If you lift up the front of your skirt I’ll lean you back against my desk and fuck you. If you lift up the back of your skirt I’ll lean you forward over my desk and spank you. The decision will rest in your hands.”

“Oh, really? And what happens when I refuse to lift up my skirt at all?”

“I’ll know you’re a naïve little virgin who hasn’t got the faintest idea of what she was inviting. In that case I’ll pass you on to Mrs Fogarty to discuss your behaviour with your parents.”

“The hell you would. I’d tell her what you just asked me to do.”

“And wouldn’t that cause trouble. For you. You don’t really think she’d believe you, do you? Young ladies in trouble are always pulling the sexual harassment charge. A bit hard to pull it when you’re facing sexual harassment charges of your own with dozens of witnesses, like every boy in the school.”

I sat back, completely relaxed. I had no doubt about Tiara’s decision. I mean, an attractive eighteen year old student facing a nasty looking, arrogant, teacher who was nearly twice her age? She would run, not walk, to the nearest exit, and the fact that the exit was labelled Mrs Fogarty wouldn’t matter in the slightest.

You can imagine my feelings when she stood up, gave me a defiant look, and proceeded to pull down her panties, sticking them in the pocket of her dress. It was by great effort of will that I stopped my jaw from hitting the ground. She had got to be kidding me.

She had another surprise waiting for me. Instead of hitching up the front or back of her dress (I’d have guessed back – and been wrong again) she pulled it up from the sides, lifting it up and tucking it into her belt, leaving her naked from the waist down. The little tuft of curls she had, while strategically placed, hid nothing.

“I take it that this is your subtle way of telling me that you’re not a virgin,” I murmured.

Tiara was blushing, but not backing down, holding her head up to look at me and not covering herself with her hands. I got up and strolled around to her side of the desk, with her watching me the way a hawk watches a mouse. Or maybe the way the mouse watches the hawk. I couldn’t be sure.

I reached past her and dragged the chair she’d been sitting on into the middle of the room and sat down on it. Then I patted my knee, looking at her and smiling.

“What are you going to do?”

“What you’ve asked me to do. It seems that you want both the spanking and the love-making. In that case it seems to me that starting off with the spanking is probably best as that means we can finish up afterwards on a high note. How high depends on whether you’re a screamer or not.”

Tiara was blushing even more fiercely now. She suddenly seemed a lot more self-conscious and her hands finally went down to cover herself.

“You don’t seriously think I’m going to let you spank me and then, um, you know?” she said.

“So, you’re now saying that you are a virgin?” I asked with an exasperated sigh.

“What? No. I’m just saying you can’t really spank me or anything. I mean, you just can’t.”

“I can’t? I’ll tell you what. You bend over my knee with your pretty little bottom, your pretty little bare bottom, showing and we’ll see if I can or not. I’m pretty sure that I can.”

“No. I mean canlı bahis siteleri that you’re not allowed to do anything like that.”

“According to what Mrs Fogarty was saying, you’re eighteen. That means that you’re capable of consent. If you bend over my knee I’m entitled to think that you’re consenting. To the spanking, anyway.”

“But the school rules. . .” she mumbled.

“Now you’re concerned about school rules? I’m pretty sure they don’t say anything about teachers spanking naughty young ladies.”

(Not that I’d ever checked. I didn’t think I’d be checking in the future, either. Ignorance is bliss.)

“Um, I really think that maybe I should let you report me to Mrs Fogarty and take whatever she dishes out.”

“I quite understand. Just too embarrassing to have your bottom smacked, eh? Easier to cut and run.”

“It’s not that. I’m not scared of being spanked. It’s just that afterwards you might try to, um, like you said.”

“Then why don’t you just do these things one at a time. Step one is to bend over and get spanked. Step two is to tell the truth about whether you’re a virgin or not. Step three is to decide if you’re going to get thoroughly fucked or not, depending on the answer divulged in step two.”

“Do you mean that if I admit that I’m a virgin, you won’t want to, uh, initiate me?”

“That would be telling. It might mean that I’ll only take you if you’re a virgin. Your best bet is to tell the truth and decide if you want me to proceed.”

“How do I know you won’t try to force me?”

“Ah, may I point out that you’re standing there with your pretty pussy on display and purring and I haven’t even tried to stroke it. If I’m not dragging you to the floor right now and leaping upon you with lusty cries, then I’m unlikely to do it later.”

I patted my knee again.

“Come along. You might as well get the spanking over with.”

Tiara was obviously weighing the relative pros and cons of a spanking versus having to front up to Mrs Fogarty. The pros for an immediate spanking was starting to outweigh the future fearful Mrs Fogarty. She sighed and her shoulders sagged a little, then she moved towards me, resigned to having her bottom smacked.

I brought my hand down onto Tiara’s bottom – gently. More a caress than a spank. I did this a second time, my hand drifting closer to her pussy. After the third time, Tiara protested.

“Just what the hell are you doing?” she demanded.

“Spanking you,” I pointed out. “That is what you’re expecting isn’t it.”

“What sort of fucking spanking is this?” and there was a tinge of worry to her voice, possibly because my hand had accidentally caressed her pussy with the latest spank.

“Ah, a politically correct one?” I suggested. “In keeping with the latest thoughts on domestic violence one is not allowed to smack so hard that it might inflict pain. The school demands that we abide by these guidelines.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“I quite agree, but rules are rules. I can smack a little harder if that will make you happier.”

Tiara made a sound that I assumed was assent so I smacked a little harder. She still complained.

“You’re not supposed to spank me there!”

“You’ll have to forgive me if I make any little mistakes,” I told her. “I’m not used to naked young women throwing themselves at me, demanding to be spanked. I’m sure I’ll improve with practice. Ah, why can’t I spank you here? You have nice curves here and, as you can see my hand covers these curves quite nicely.”

“Take your hand away from there. I am not naked and I didn’t throw myself at you. You insisted.”

“Ah, not really. I gave you a choice and you preferred this.” I demonstrated ‘this’ with a proper spank upon her bottom. “As for the not naked part, that can be remedied. Would you like to be naked? Maybe that will encourage me to give you a proper paddling. Assuming you want one.”

From her silence I had to assume that Tiara didn’t want a proper spanking. Not that that would help her. I continued on my way with my faux spanking, taking the time to caress her bottom and her pudenda, stroking them both, stirring her to life. I could actually feel her labia swelling and parting, her inner lips peeping through.

Deciding that she was sufficiently aroused, I delivered a proper spank to her bottom, being rewarded with a startled squeal. With that starter I went ahead and delivered a firm spanking, although, I will admit, a few smarting slaps may have landed on her mound instead of her rosy cheeks.

Tiara was squirming about now, protesting, but somewhat incoherently, not quite knowing what to say. I finally brought my hand down with one last hard spank and swung her to her feet.

There were tears in her eyes but she was making a determined effort not to cry. Her eyes weren’t the only place that was unexpectedly wet. It seemed to me that if she didn’t get her panties on fairly quickly she just might start dripping onto the floor. Unless something else managed to cover her mound.

Tiara was breathing hard and not looking at me. This attitude changed when I stood up and loudly unzipped. The sound of the zip descending brought her eyes swinging around to look at my groin and then up to my face to try and read my intentions.

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