Ay: Mayıs 2021

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

“I need a hot and hard fuck,” I said urgently, the minute Celia picked up my call.

There was a pause on the other end of the line and then, “Jesus, Beth. Don’t you even say hello anymore?” whispered Celia.

“I’m as horny as hell and frustrated so all my nice words have been used up today.” I replied.

Still in hushed tones, Celia answered, “Look, I’m at the Nosh Deli getting my lunch. The nice lady behind the counter does not need to hear me talk dirty to you.”

I sighed in frustration, “Come over to my place tonight please. I really need to talk.”

“Ok, but you’d better have some decent wine and food.” She almost cut the phone call, before I quickly added,

“Please bring me some AAA batteries! My rabbit has been over worked and it has no power left. I can’t get to the shops today.” I complained.

There was a faint guffaw on the end of the line and then it went dead.

Celia, a fifty-year old single mother, was one of my closest friends. She was the one you called when you had any type of crisis, especially sex related.

Her parents were extremely open-minded about sex so no subject was off limits for Celia when she was growing up. Her mum even took her to their family doctor to get the pill when she was just fifteen and Celia was allowed to have sleepovers with her boyfriend when she turned sixteen — sixteen!

My God, my parents didn’t talk to me about anything remotely sexual. I even had to find out about periods from my school friends at the age of nine. Thank goodness for the women’s magazines my older sister had left lying around her bedroom. I learnt all about blowjobs and cunnilingus from the sex pages of those wonderful magazines. My eyes almost bulged out of my head reading all the explicit details, especially as I was only fourteen at the time.

Anyway, I digress. The reason for my panicked phone call to Celia on this particular Friday lunchtime is that lately, my libido has been out of control. It has completely taken me by surprise because it has been lying dormant for years now.

I noticed the decline in my thirties. I’ve always been quite indifferent towards sex and I could take it or leave it. It didn’t bother my ex-husband, David either, as he was ten year’s older than me and his libido started to diminish once he hit forty.

In the last three years of our marriage, we were like housemates, friendly and polite with each other, but with no intimacy and very little conversation.

The split was very amicable. We sat down for breakfast together one day and I asked him if we should consider getting a divorce and without any hesitation, he agreed. It was all very neat and tidy and I didn’t feel sad at all.

So here I am, a forty-five year old divorcee, living alone in a two-bedroom apartment in the city of Sydney, Australia. I’m feeling extremely horny every minute of every day, with no one around to help me release all the sexual tension.

There is a constant ache between my legs and embarrassingly, I now have to carry a couple of spare panties to change into during the day, as the first pair are getting quite damp from my own juices.

My thighs are rubbing together when I walk (the thigh gap disappeared along with my twenties) so I feel delicious friction between my legs, which seems to travel up to my clit.

I take the train to work and I am like a tightly coiled spring and when any man, accidently bumps me, I jolt in shock and lust. It doesn’t matter what they look like, although to be honest the handsome ones make me even hotter.

A few times, I have deliberately stood next to a man on the train and edged myself slightly closer to him to try and sniff his body odour. I have started to find the scent of a man intoxicating and arousing.

I wonder if I am carrying myself differently, as I am getting a lot more stares from these male commuters; or maybe they are only looking at me because they sense I am staring at them? Or perhaps they can now detect the invisible pheromones emitting from my body and it’s calling out to them like a siren?

I tried sniffing my armpits to see if I could smell a different scent, but it seemed the same to me. When I am on the toilet, I do catch a stronger muskier smell than normal, drifting up from between my legs. It makes me think that men can smell my pussy even when they are standing metres away. I mean, dogs certainly do, as more of them seem to rudely poke their snouts between my legs, whenever I am near them.

I am looking at men’s tight butts and crotches, all the time. My gaze is immediately drawn to their private parts as they walk towards me on the street.

I am hoping to see the outline of their dicks or their balls and I imagine how big they are. I would like to catch the outline of an erection and know I caused it. That would make my day.

I look at men’s hands a lot too and think about the shape of their cocks, based on their fingers. I did notice there was a slight correlation with finger length and thickness, to penis length and girth. This may have been purely coincidental illegal bahis for all the men I have ever slept with.

I realise that my fixation on strangers and sex has become an unhealthy obsession and I need Celia to get me back on track or at least tell me what I need to do to cool down this heat.

I have a lovely apartment by the water, overlooking the Opera House and Harbour Bridge. It is on the third floor of a small brick building, up three flights of stairs.

The main entrance leads off into a large kitchen on the right, one guest bedroom on the left and a large lounge next to it. Through the hallway, there is a master bedroom and the bathroom.

I love the apartment for the light, the views and the amazing location. The divorce from David left me with a very good settlement and I used the money for this place.

***

When the doorbell rang at 6.30 p.m. that evening, I rushed to the door and virtually yanked Celia inside. She and I live only twenty minutes drive from one another so we catch up nearly every week.

“Hey, good evening to you too! What’s the rush?” she asked shrugging off her coat and kicking off her heels.

“Sorry Celia, I’m just desperate to talk to you, come through to the kitchen. I’ll get us drinks and we can get comfy on the terrace.”

I took Celia’s coat and laid it on the bed in my spare room and then walked to the kitchen where Celia was standing with two wine glasses in her hand.

She had just come straight from work and was in her uniform of neat navy suit, white shirt and purple silk scarf tied jauntily around her neck. She worked as a travel consultant for a private agency and they were strict with their uniform. Her wavy blond hair was styled in a neat chignon and she had on a full face of make up.

I, on the other hand had spent the day working at home, which is what I do every day as I am a freelance journalist. I was wearing my usual t-shirt and leggings combo, which was rather uninspiring. My shoulder length dark brown hair was tied up in a messy ponytail and I wore no make up.

I poured us both a good measure of Sauvignon Blanc and took a mezze platter to the outside terrace.

The terrace is one of the best features of the apartment and has amazing views over to the city and the two most iconic landmarks in Sydney. It is a beautiful oasis of large potted plants, container shrubs, plus a gas barbecue, a table and four chairs.

I put the platter of food on the table and we sat down. I didn’t waste any time and got straight to the point.

“I’m thinking about sex all the time, Celia. I think something strange has happened to me. I’ve never felt so sexually charged in my entire life.”

To give Celia credit, she didn’t look at all shocked. “Welcome to my world.” She laughed. “I always think about sex. It’s fantastic.”

“It is not fantastic. I am a bitch in heat! I am desperate to have sex and not with my dildo.” I cried.

Celia burst out laughing, “Maybe you need more sex toys.”

“I need more than sex toys. I need to do something about this burning lust that I am feeling all the time. I’m practically rubbing myself up against strangers on the train.”

“Some men might actually enjoy that,” she said wiggling her eyebrows at me.

“This constant state of arousal is very distracting.” I lamented.

“I have started to masturbate twice a day, morning and night to satisfy myself, but it’s not working. I’m still feeling horny afterwards. How is that even possible?”

Celia leaned over her chair to rummage through her bag, “Oh, before I forget. Here are the batteries you wanted.” She deposited a pack of AAA and AA batteries on the table.

“I didn’t know which size so I bought you both. I don’t know why you don’t just buy rechargeable dildos. They are so much more convenient and you never run out of batteries,” she said.

“Thank you for the batteries. I’m embarrassed to admit that I still only have one vibrator. I bought it years ago when David and I were trying to inject some spark back into our sex life.”

“God you’re so naive. Sex toys have changed quite a bit since then. You need to do some research online. Maybe if you had more toys, you wouldn’t be so desperate for a fuck. It’s quite possible that your old vibrator just isn’t up to the task,” said Celia.

“I don’t know. I don’t think this is going to go away with the help of some vibrating toys.”

For the rest of the evening, Celia and I talked more about my high sex drive, relationships, our ex-husbands and other topics ranging from clothes, to politics to work. We have a very close friendship, developed over eight years and we comfortably spend the whole night talking.

After we had finished nearly two bottles of wine between us, ordered take away pizza and guiltily shared a cigarette on the balcony; we moved into the lounge and sat on the three-seater couch, almost half asleep.

I felt myself drifting off, when Celia suddenly piped up, “Have you ever watched any porn?”

My eyes snapped open and I looked across at her.

“No, illegal bahis siteleri I haven’t. It seems a bit sad doing that all alone.”

“You have no idea what you’re missing, Beth. Go get your laptop.”

I reluctantly peeled myself off the couch and retrieved my laptop from the spare room. We sat closer together and I passed the laptop to Celia, after firing it up and logging in.

Her fingers moved quickly across the keyboard and in no time at all, she had logged onto a porn site, which she said was amazing and had been set up by a woman, especially for women.

Without any hesitation, she clicked on the videos and I gawped when the moving picture of two perfect couples appeared on screen, fully nude and in the throes of penetrative sex. The zoom on the camera, left nothing to the imagination.

“Here you go,” she said, thrusting the laptop back at me. “Free porn. You can save the website in your bookmark. Nothing beats watching porn and masturbating; unless of course you can watch it with a partner, while having sex,” she smirked.

Wow, after my confession about being horny and needing a good fuck, Celia was letting out all her secrets and not hiding her sex knowledge in any way. She was one confident, fearless and sexually charged woman. I stared at her in amazement and with something akin to awe.

“Celia, you are amazing. Why didn’t you tell me how dirty you were?”

“You were married and happy being a non-sexual being. I didn’t think you were that interested, to be honest. No point rubbing sex in your face when you didn’t care much for it. Now however, well…..things have changed I guess,” she grinned.

The porn video was still showing on my laptop and I couldn’t help myself stealing glances at it. Jesus, that penis was huge. I clicked on another video and felt myself get damp between my legs. One woman, two men — double entry. Bloody hell. I stared at the moving bodies, with my mouth wide open.

“Uh oh, I recognise that look,” said Celia. “I’m going to go home now before you decide to jump on me,” she laughed.

“You do look quite beautiful, tonight Celia. I said fluttering my eyelashes at her and stroking her arm. Have you ever done it with a girl before?” I cackled when I saw a brief flash of uncertainty in her eyes.

“Relax, I’m messing you with. I’m still straight,” I assured her.

“Thank fuck for that.” Was her sardonic reply.

I slammed my laptop shut. I didn’t need any more titillation and I was quite possibly too drunk to orgasm anyway.

“Thanks for the porn site link, Celia. I’ll watch those videos when I’m alone. Shall I call you a taxi or do you want to sleep in the spare room tonight?” I asked her.

“I’ll just go home, thanks Beth. I have too much to do on Saturday morning and I really need to get up early,” she said stretching her arms over her head.

When Celia’s taxi arrived, we gave each other a hug and promised to catch up the following week.

I went to bed feeling like my body was weightless and slept like a log. The alcohol had dulled the ache in my pussy, for the time being.

***

A few days after seeing Celia, a large, brown nondescript box arrived on my doorstep. I couldn’t remember ordering anything online so when I ripped off the brown tape and saw an array of sex toys, I almost dropped the parcel in shock.

Inside was a message:

“Dear Beth, I hope these goodies temporarily satisfy your insatiable appetite. Love C.”

I sent her a quick text:

Amazing goodies, Celia. Thank you, thank you. Xx

A huge grin spread across my face and I tore open each of the individual boxes, in anticipation of what I would find.

My God, Celia had thought of everything. My eyes blurred from the amount of stuff she had ordered. She was so thoughtful that she had even included lube and toy cleaning lotion. Not a single toy needed batteries either. They were all rechargeable. What a fabulous friend she was. I reminded myself to take her out to lunch as a thank you.

I spent half an hour inspecting and cleaning each toy. All of them needed plugging into an electric socket to charge up so I had to find two multi-plug extension leads.

Six different sex toys were lined up next to my kettle, in the kitchen. They looked like a bizarre array of electrical gadgets and I smiled happily to myself.

As I waited impatiently for them to charge up, I made myself a cup of tea and flipped through all the instructions, not that there was much to them.

I kept looking at my new toys and trying to decide which one to try out first. I could feel myself getting wet in anticipation of using them.

They were taking far too long to charge though and I was losing patience. I grabbed the first toy in the line – the love egg vibrator. It was a pleasing dark purple colour, with a silky silicon texture. I tested the weight of it in my hand and stroked its soft surface. When I switched it on, the powerful vibrations gave me such shock that I shrieked and accidently threw it on the floor.

I canlı bahis siteleri watched in amusement as it hummed and bounced all along my kitchen tiles and started laughing. The thing moved about a two metres before I caught it and turned it off. Wow, this one was so powerful, I had to test it out right now.

I grabbed two other toys without thinking and walked quickly to my bedroom. I stripped off my clothes, pushed all my bedding to one side and placed the toys on my bedside table. I took the love egg and gently held it between my fingers, then lay down on my back. I spread my legs wide and inserted it in my already wet pussy. No lube was needed at all.

I switched it on using the wireless remote and adjusted the vibrations until they were on full. The sensation inside me felt a bit alien at first. I’m not used to a vibrating dick, but I soon adjusted to the sensation and tried to squeeze my inner muscles to see if that made a difference. If felt good, but something was missing. I needed more stimulation on the outside.

I reached for the pink flickering clitoral stimulator. It was like the vibrating ears on my rabbit dildo, but slightly longer. When I switched it on, it buzzed pleasantly in my hand. I lay back and pressed it against my clit. The initial sensation was almost too much and I bucked at how overly sensitive my clit felt.

After turning down the vibration speed, it became more bearable and I could hold it right against myself. The combined vibrations on the outside and inside brought me to a violent orgasm in less than a minute. I cried out as my legs started to jolt and shake. I could feel liquid spilling out from my pussy, but I was beyond caring.

When I finally came down from my orgasm, I switched off the clit simulator and the egg vibrator. I pulled out the egg using the plastic cord and it plopped out all slippery and wet. I lay on my bed, sweating and still trying to get my breath back.

Incredibly, I was still wildly turned on even after coming. I lay on my bed, unmoving and staring at my ceiling, then I reached for the next toy on my bedside table – a humungous rabbit vibrator. I couldn’t believe that Celia picked this thing — the dirty bitch.

It was big, black and beautiful. I already owned one, but it was nowhere near the size of this king dong. I was already so slippery inside that it was no effort whatsoever to push this inside myself. The size of it made me feel full and the head of it was knocking on my cervix.

When I switched it on, I realised it had so many settings that I lost count. I kept pressing the buttons until the penis shaped end was doing a thrust and twist and the rabbit ears were vibrating at full throttle against my clit. I fucked myself hard and had another knee trembling orgasm. This one took a bit longer to achieve as my clit was feeling slightly numb from my first session. Finally though, I felt sated and later that night, I went to bed with the biggest smile on my face.

***

The following week, my routine consisted of getting up, going to work, coming home, eating dinner and having sex with myself.

The problem with my daily personal sex workouts was that they were making my clit numb from overuse and it was now taking me twice as long to come. I was also getting a bit worried about my addiction to these toys.

They can’t be a substitute for human contact and fucking a real person, can they?

I called Celia.

“Hey! How is Ms Horny doing? How are your new sex toys?” She asked, the minute she saw my name appear on her phone.

“Good Celia, but my clit is about to fall off and I’m still a little frustrated,” I replied.

“Christ, you’re telling me that all those sex toys aren’t satiating your desires?”

“Yes and no. I think I still need a real, hot cock.”

“I know you don’t want to date and you don’t want to go to a bar and pick up a random so I’ve only got one solution for you. Male escorts.” Leaving those two words hanging, she hung up on me.

I was left looking at my phone in disbelief. Had I heard her correctly? I wanted to call her back and talk more, but stopped myself. Instead I sent her a text.

Have you used a male escort before? Where do I find one? Can you recommend one?

Her response was immediate.

Yes. Google. Try The Scarlet Agency

I was not even shocked that Celia had hired the services of a male escort before. I was more surprised that she had never told me.I text her back.

Thanks! Xx

It’s funny what pops up when you type in ‘Male escorts, Sydney’ on the internet. There were so many websites to choose from. I had no idea this world existed. I clicked on the first website and my jaw dropped when the images of so many beautiful men appeared. They were absolutely divine and any one of them could be mine, for the right price.

When I clicked on their image, I was rewarded with more photos of them, in various states of undress. Their faces and bodies captivated me. I looked through each and every one of them and read all their biographies. It was like reading resumes for male escorts. Their prices ranged from $100 an hour to $600 an hour and up to $5,000 for 24 hours! My God, I had no idea that escorts charged this much. I imagine they are worth it though and know exactly how to please a woman.

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

They say that men are supposed to reach their sexual peak in their late-teens. If that’s true, Mick Jackson must have been a late bloomer. His own sexual “peaking” didn’t really begin until he was in his late-twenties–thanks largely to Nicole. Now, more than a decade later, he still hadn’t noticed any signs of slowing down, either. Nicole wouldn’t let that happen. As Mick lay in bed watching her dress for work, a little shudder ran through him. Today was Nicole’s thirtieth birthday, and it was almost frightening to think that her sexual peak might still be ahead of her. He felt his limp member begin to stir beneath the sheets as he watched her primping before the mirror, thinking ahead to the surprise he’d planned for her that night. Who knows, he thought to himself, maybe he’d get a glimpse of Nicole at her peak in just a few hours….

Michael Jackson (who preferred, for obvious reasons, to go by his nickname, Mick) and Nicole Chapin (who became known to everyone as Nick) met in college. She was a 19-year-old sophomore at the time, and he was a 28-year-old graduate student. Since they were both in the theater and drama program, their paths crossed regularly, and it hadn’t taken more than one or two such crossings for Mick to notice her. Of course, a lot of guys noticed Nicole Chapin.

She was tall and slender, with the lithe figure of a fashion model. Her breasts were on the smallish side, some men might say, but her long, shapely legs and perfect ass more than compensated for that, in Mick’s view. She had straight, dirty-blonde hair that hung down to her shoulders, and she often wore it in a kind of “peek-a-boo” style that enhanced her exotic facial features. Nicole wasn’t what you’d call “cute” or “pretty” in the all-American girl sense. Her mother’s side of the family was from Scandinavia, and Nicole had inherited her mother’s strikingly beautiful Nordic features. Even though she was only nineteen, her cool, casual beauty and elegance made her seem mature beyond her years.

Seeing her in the halls on her way to class or hanging around with other students in the theater building, Mick quickly became entranced by this young woman. Of course, he’d never have a chance with her, he told himself. In addition to the difference in their ages, there was also the difference in their backgrounds.

Like most of the undergraduates at this university, Nicole came from money. She was raised in the East, where her daddy was CEO of an international chain of resorts, hotels, and restaurants. Nicole had been educated in the best private schools, had traveled the world, and wanted for nothing–including boyfriends, it appeared to Mick. Wherever she went, there was always some buffed up stud or a pretty-boy actor/model type sniffing around her–rich, good-looking guys closer to her own age and social class.

Mick, on the other hand, was raised in the Midwest, with a blue-collar background and a public school education. After high school, he did what most of his buddies had done: gone to a state college, married his high school sweetheart, and got a job. For five years he worked as an English and drama teacher at a high school near his hometown, during which time he and his wife began to drift apart. After a few half-hearted attempts to repair their relationship, they finally divorced, and Mick decided it might be a good time to make some other changes in his life.

He’d always wanted to go to graduate school, thinking it might be more enjoyable and challenging teaching college instead of high school, and he wanted to get away from his hometown. On a lark, he applied to the best graduate program he could find. He was surprised when they not only accepted him, but also offered him a teaching assistantship. So he quit his job, packed up his belongings, and headed east. Now, here he was back in school again after all these years, trying to survive on his meager stipend, suddenly “unattached,” and surrounded by bright, young, attractive women.

Now if only he could only figure out how to approach one of them….

Like most divorcees, Mick found it awkward trying to get back in the dating game. He hadn’t been on a date or had sex with anyone but his ex-wife since he was 17. Even though he was still a young man, he felt old-fashioned in comparison to these younger kids, with their seemingly more casual approach to dating and relationships and sex.

Not that he was opposed to such things. In fact, he thought it would be good for him to “play the field” for a while instead of jumping right into another serious relationship. He’d been “good” for too damned long, he thought. Since he hadn’t sown any wild oats when he was in his teens and early twenties, as a lot of guys do, he wanted to make up for lost time. The only problem was that he wasn’t quite sure how to go about it.

He hadn’t been around single women in so long that they often seemed like an alien species to him. He didn’t know how to ask one out for a date–hell, the illegal bahis last “date” he’d been on was in high school–and he certainly didn’t know how you got one to go to bed with you. He got along well with one of his fellow graduate students, an attractive brunette named Sara, and they’d gone out together several times for a drink or a bite to eat. But you couldn’t really consider those “dates,” he reckoned, since he hadn’t called her up or brought her flowers or got dressed up or any of the other stuff he remembered from high school. She was definitely a girl, and she was definitely a friend, but he couldn’t tell if she was interested in being more than friends–which is to say, interested in having sex with him. Mick just couldn’t read the signals she was giving him. Hell, he wasn’t even sure whether she was sending signals!

Consequently, he didn’t realize that there were a number of young women in the theater program who were becoming interested in Mick Jackson. Being an unattached, heterosexual male was enough in itself to make him attractive to some of them, since the ratio of straight females to straight males in the program was about 3-to-1. And then there was his age, which made him attractive to those coeds who had grown tired of the “boys” their own age. Even his being divorced was a potential asset, in the eyes of the romantically inclined, for it meant that he had suffered and would be all the more grateful to a woman who could appreciate him and take care of him. Finally, there was his talent.

During his first semester, he had landed the title role in the university’s production of “Cyrano de Bergerac.” His performance was the talk of the campus, especially among those would-be Roxannes in the program who began to attribute to Mick all the romantic qualities of the character he was playing. Even Cyrano’s famous physical deformity worked to Mick’s advantage. Mick didn’t have a buffed-up bod or pretty-boy good looks like many of the actors in the program. It’s not that he scared small children or anything, but he wasn’t the guy most girls noticed first in a roomful of GQ model-types. He was of average height and average weight, with average brown hair and eyes, average looks….

But after seeing him onstage, women suddenly began to notice him for the first time. Some of the bolder ones would stop him in the halls to introduce themselves and compliment him on his performance, and the girls in his Theater Appreciation class were starting to pay more attention during his lectures. Near the end of the fall semester, auditions were held for the major spring production, “The Taming of the Shrew.” Everyone assumed that the role of Petruchio would go to Mick–but the competition for the role of Kate was fierce.

On the morning after the auditions, Mick went to check the casting board. He was fairly confident that he had landed the leading role, but he was curious to see who would be playing opposite him. He stopped short when he saw Nicole standing there looking at the cast list. He didn’t know she had auditioned for the show, and his heart began racing as he tried to think of something clever to say to her. The thought that she might be in the play with him made him weak. But what if her name wasn’t on the list? He might come off sounding like a jerk if he tried to make a joke. Maybe he should just play it cool, treat her like graduate students normally treated sophomores–which is to say, ignore her….

Before he could decide, Nicole suddenly turned around, almost bumping into him and startling them both. “Oh!” she laughed, placing a hand coyly on her breast. “It’s you!” She smiled and looked down, her cheeks flushing, then held out her hand. “Hi, I’m Nicole–Nicole Chapin.”

“Uh, hi,” Mick replied numbly, shaking her hand. “Mick–Michael–Mick Jackson.”

“Yes, I know,” she smiled. “I’m glad to finally meet you.”

“Oh yeah?” Mick grinned. He still couldn’t believe it when girls would say that to him.

“Yeah, um, my friend, Amy, told me about you,” Nicole said quickly. “Amy Burton.”

“Oh, right. Amy,” Mick mumbled, remembering one of the cuter girls from his Theater Appreciation class. He hoped he’d given Amy an ‘A’ on her last exam, but couldn’t remember. “Well, don’t believe everything you hear,” he joked lamely.

Nicole laughed and tossed her head, flipping the hair out of her face. “No, no,” she smiled, “it was all good! Plus, I saw you in ‘Cyrano’. You were great!”

“Oh, thanks,” Mick mumbled again.

“Oh, listen to me,” she smiled demurely, “telling you how good you are–as if what I say matters. I hope I didn’t–that is, what I mean….”

“No, no, it’s okay. I appreciate it.”

There was a brief, awkward silence, and then Nicole smiled and glanced nervously at the casting board. “I’m really excited about getting a chance to work with you,” she said.

“Oh, yeah?” Mick replied, hoping she couldn’t see his heart thumping in his chest. “You got a part, eh? Congratulations.”

“‘Fraid illegal bahis siteleri so,” she shrugged.

“Me, too, huh?” Nicole laughed again, as if he’d just made another joke. “What am I? First or second spear-chucker?”

“Uh-no–‘fraid not,” she chuckled. She nodded toward the board again. “You haven’t seen it?” Mick shook his head and stepped over to survey the cast list. “Ah-well–you’re Petruchio–of course!” she stammered. “And I’m–well, uh, I’m afraid I’m Kate.”

Mick stared at the list dumbly for a moment, hardly believing his eyes and ears. The female lead!? Nicole Chapin was going to be playing Kate!? Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you, God! he thought.

“… I know I’ve got a lot to learn, but I’ll work really, really hard …,” he heard Nicole saying.

At first, Mick was only dimly aware that Nicole was blabbering away at him, lost as he was in his own fantasy. But then he understood: My God! She’s apologizing! She thinks I might be upset that she got the part!

It was unusual for a sophomore to get cast at all in a major university production, much less a leading role. Lots of more experienced actresses had auditioned for this choice role, and there would be all sorts of gossip and bitching once word got around that the director had given the part to a sophomore. Some of the professors were not above using the “casting couch” to settle competitions for good roles, especially when an attractive coed like Nicole was auditioning, and Mick knew that she would be suspected of sleeping her way into the role. She was nervous, he realized, seeing her in a completely new light from the cool, elegant Ice Princess he’d seen parading down the halls.

Impulsively, he reached out and placed a finger to her lips. “Sssshhhhh,” he said softly, trying to give her a reassuring smile. Nicole was so surprised by this that she stopped mid-sentence. “I know you’re gonna do just fine,” Mick told her firmly, placing his hand on her upper arm and looking her in the eye. He gave her arm a reassuring pat, and then turned and walked away. “Let’s just try to have some fun, all right?” he called back to her as he started up the stairs to his office. As he turned the corner, he glanced back to see Nicole standing there looking at him with her mouth still open.

***

For the next month, Mick and Nicole spent 6 nights a week pretending to be strong-willed, passionate lovers. And, as often happens in these circumstances, building the fire between their characters each night generated some sparks between Mick and Nicole, as well. Before long, the rest of the cast noticed that the two of them were flirting and teasing and bickering with each other offstage in a fashion similar to how their characters behaved onstage, and there were times during some of the rehearsals when no one could tell whether the heat they were putting out was from the actors or the characters.

Mick felt like he had died and gone to heaven. Not only was he getting to spend a helluva lot of time with a girl he had often fantasized about, but playing a strong, rakish character like Petruchio had emboldened him in a way that he had never experienced with a woman. Just a few weeks ago, he didn’t know how to approach her or what to say to her. But now, he thought nothing of talking to her (often quite crudely), touching her (often quite familiarly), even going out with her after rehearsals for drinks or a bite to eat. True, there were always other actors around when he did these things, but before long, he told himself, he’d make his move…. Each night, he’d go to bed fantasizing about “taming” Nicole–and in a much more graphic way than Shakespeare presented it.

But then one evening before rehearsal, Rob, another actor in the show, pulled Mick aside and casually asked, “So … have you fucked her yet?”

“Fucked who?” Mick replied, trying to conceal his discomfort. He was startled when Rob laughed and poked him in the ribs.

“Yeah, right–‘who’?–that’s a good one.”

“What are you talking about?” Mick protested, still trying to maintain his façade.

Rob stopped chuckling and looked at Mick strangely. He shook his head and clapped him on the shoulder. “Well, all right, have it your way. But, for what it’s worth, a word to the wise: if you haven’t fucked her yet, you better do it soon,” he smiled conspiratorially. “She wants your dick, man–and don’t tell me you haven’t noticed!” he added in such as way as to let Mick know that he wouldn’t listen to any bullshit. “And Nicole always gets what she wants, in case you haven’t heard,” Rob grinned. “No use fighting it. I mean, who the hell could resist popping a babe like that? But you better get it while it’s hot–ol’ Nicole has a short attention span, if you know what I mean.” He clapped Mick on the shoulder again and walked off, cackling merrily to himself and shaking his head.

Rob hadn’t said anything that Mick hadn’t already heard. Even he was canlı bahis siteleri able to pick up on the signals she’d been sending. And he’d heard some of the gossip that had been circulating lately: about Nick “always getting her man”; about her supposedly bragging to some of her friends about being the first girl on campus to fuck him; about her plans to seduce him at the cast party; about the wagers over who would end up “taming” whom.

A lot of this was probably bullshit, Mick told himself, or just jealousy. And–for Chrissakes!–he wanted her to fuck him! But the realization that if he did end up fucking her, everyone would think she’d somehow “won” and he’d “lost” gnawed at his pride. The thought that he was going to end up as just another notch on some girl’s bedpost irritated him. And that only made it worse: after all, guys aren’t supposed to care about that–just so long as they get laid. Maybe he was taking this Petruchio character a little too seriously, he told himself wistfully.

During the run of the show, Mick and Nick managed to sublimate their personal battle and give a fine series of performances. A lot of people in the department were skeptical of Nicole’s ability to do the part, predicting that Mick would “blow her off the stage.” But for whatever reason–talent, hard work, or personal investment–Nicole rose the occasion. The passion and sexual tension between the characters onstage was “thoroughly believable,” according to the campus newspaper, which gave everyone in the cast a good chuckle.

After the final performance, though, while everyone else in the cast and crew exchanged hugs and kisses and made plans for the big blowout at the director’s party, Mick quietly took off his makeup, changed his clothes, and made his apologies to the director: he wasn’t feeling well, he said, and didn’t think he’d be able to make it to the cast party.

All the rumors about Nicole’s plans to seduce him that night had finally got the better of him, and he’d decided that in order to keep his pride, he would have to give up his own desires. Because he knew one or the other of them would make some kind of move at the party, he thought it best just to avoid the event altogether. Instead, he would pick up a bottle of scotch, trudge back to his apartment, and drink himself into a stupor to start the long, painful process of purging her from his imagination. After feeling “whipped” for most of the last decade with his ex, he wasn’t about to let some teenaged bitch “tame” him, he told himself. Fortunately, he’d managed to avoid her backstage after the show–especially after what had happened.

As the curtain had come down for the last time, they’d exchanged their usual quick congratulatory kiss on the cheek. The lights came down, and they dashed offstage with the rest of the cast, still holding hands from their curtain call. But when they reached the wings, Nicole suddenly stopped, pulled him close to her and planted a big kiss on his lips. Mick was doubly surprised when her mouth opened and she slipped him her her tongue. He heard her sigh when he gave her his tongue in return, and she sucked on it hungrily. They might have started ripping each other’s costumes off right then and there–if the backstage lights hadn’t suddenly snapped on. With their tongues still down each other’s throats, they opened their eyes to discover that they were standing right in the middle of the cast and crew! Instantly, they broke apart, too embarrassed to do anything but dash toward their separate dressing rooms, while the others laughed or groaned or made crude remarks.

Mick stepped out the back door of the theater, breathing a sigh of relief at having made his escape. Then he heard her call his name.

“I wondered where you were,” she said, moving toward him from out of the shadows.

“Oh, hey, Nicole,” he stammered. “Yeah, me too–wondered where you were, I mean.” She held up her cigarette and shrugged. “Yeah, good idea,” he laughed, nervously fumbling for his own pack. He pulled out a cigarette and put it between his lips, and she held out her hand and flicked her lighter for him. He leaned forward into the flame and mumbled his thanks.

“Suck ’til it gets red,” she purred, repeating one of the stupid lines he’d used on her in the previous weeks. Mick was unable to think of a witty reply at that moment, because when he leaned down for a light, he noticed that Nicole apparently hadn’t finished dressing before taking her cigarette break. She had pulled on a pair of jeans and a man’s sport coat–but there was nothing underneath the coat except skin. She was flashing him unashamedly in the dim glow of the lighter’s flame, and he sucked the cigarette way past the point of getting red as he stared at her pert little tits hanging there inches from his face, the dark nipples puckered up in the cold night air. After a moment, she snapped the lighter off and chuckled. He took a long, deep drag, and exhaled audibly. “Feel better now?” she teased.

All he could do was grunt in reply, and they stood there for a second smoking in silence until he could stand it no more. “Um, look, Nicole–it’s been great. You were great–I had a great time . . . working with you and all. . . .”

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“The buried soul and all its gems
This life’s dim windows of the soul
Distorts the heavens from pole to pole
And leads you to believe a lie
When you see with not through the eye.”
(William Blake)

I feel I must explain how this story came to be written. Firstly I was acquainted for a long period of time with most of the people involved and might even account myself a friend of some of them. A number of the events I personally witnessed; other information has come to me from things people have told me, and I have had the privilege of viewing some diaries that had been kept at the time.

Where there have been gaps in my knowledge of events I have written what I believe must have happened, and since the two main characters have viewed what I have written and have not contradicted it, I assume I must have guessed correctly.

I have changed the names of the people involved in order to preserve anonymity, and for the same reason I have not specified geographical locations.

The two people I am mainly concerned with now live abroad and others are dead.

* * * * * * * *

I had known Lucian Neil since we were children and accounted myself his best friend. From early years he showed signs of being the genius he was to become and it was not always easy to be his friend. He was selfish, apparently without conscience, and seemed unaware of the feelings of others, although he expected others to take account of his feelings. Yet in spite of this he had charm that seemed to draw people to him, especially women, and even after they had suffered through his careless treatment of them, most still held him in their affections.

Given what happened I often regret that it was I who introduced him to Irene Dempster. Irene was a gentle, attractive and warm hearted girl, and I’d had hopes in her direction for myself. I think almost from the first moment she met Lucian I knew all hope was lost for me.

Along with his ability to charm, Lucian was exceedingly good looking and he was just beginning to make his mark as a portrait painter of considerable talent and as I have said, genius.

Looking back I’ve often wondered whether it was Lucian the man or Lucian the painter of genius that Irene fell in love with; possibly it was both.

Even when she knew that Lucian was a notorious womaniser she was not deterred, in fact I think she saw him as a challenge and was utterly devoted to him.

Whether or not Lucian was ever really in love with her has always been something of a mystery to me, but in love or not he married her.

Right from the start I thought the marriage unsuitable and that Lucian was the sort of man who should never have got married. Brief affairs were more his style.

For a long time I seemed to have been proven wrong because the marriage had lasted and Lucian’s reputation was such that he was able to keep them in considerable style. What I was later to learn was that Lucian had not ceased his affairs with other women but such was Irene’s devotion to him she always took him back once the heat had gone out of the affair.

It would be true to say that Lucian’s affairs were torrid but brief. His current girl or woman was always the most beautiful and fascinating he’d ever met, but the attraction rarely lasted more than a fortnight and he would be back in the marital bed. If a month later you happened to mention the woman’s name he would look at you blankly as if he’d never heard of her.

It was the same with all his inamoratas except Irene, she was, metaphorically speaking, the fountain of love he would always return to, and although I pitied her for what she had to suffer, she never seemed to pity herself.

* * * * * * *

If I regretted having introduced Irene to Lucian, my next introduction was one that I was to regret even more deeply.

I have called it an introduction, but it was not a direct introduction.

I was acquainted with the parents of a young woman called Marion Leymare. After her eighteenth birthday they decided they wanted her portrait painted, and being immensely rich they could afford the best, and Lucian was undoubtedly that. It was I who recommended Lucian to Mr. and Mrs. Leymare.

The girl was exceedingly beautiful and she reminded me of one of those exquisitely made china dolls, with an almost round head poised on a long delicate neck, a short upturned nose, a small mouth with a full upper lip attractively bowed, and a mass of blonde hair cut evenly at just above her shoulders and a creamy complexion. I felt that her eyes was her loveliest feature, sea green and slanting slightly to give her an oriental appearance and sparkling with life.

When dressed casually she favoured expensive denims and T-shirts that displayed her pointed nipples and upturned breasts, usually unencumbered by a bra. She seemed to combine an appearance of fragility with sensuality and she had a radiant personality.

Having been brought up by wealthy and indulgent parents she was bahis firmaları exceedingly self centred; what she wanted she had to have, and invariably she got it, whatever the cost to others.

A trait she undoubtedly shared with Lucian was the absence of any conscience. If through any action of hers someone suffered, then from her point of view it was their bad luck and they’d have to get over it.

At the time of first meeting her Lucian was thirty seven and there is no doubt he was infatuated with the girl. As for Marion, as she has told me, she was equally infatuated with Lucian. She wanted him and she was determined to have him at whatever the cost to Irene or anyone else.

Irene was alerted to the situation when she discovered that Lucian was painting two portraits of Marion; in the one for her parents she was dressed in a long red evening gown; the other was one he would keep; in it Marion was nude. It was then that Irene realised that she was not dealing with one of Lucian’s usual affairs; this was something far more serious.

The seriousness of the situation was made abundantly clear when Marion told Irene that she intended to marry Lucian. At first Irene had laughed this off, but on tackling Lucian he admitted it was true.

Irene was shattered and unwisely she appealed to Marion, telling her of Lucian’s previous affairs. Such was her egocentric nature this did nothing to shake Marion’s confidence in her power over Lucian. She told Irene she wanted Lucian and she would have him, and the best thing Irene could do was to behave like a civilised adult and realise that she was beaten and get over it.

As you might imagine, Irene’s marriage had not been an easy one; it had been littered with bitter arguments, and on this occasion Irene was not going to let Lucian go without a fight.

The fight erupted one night in the kitchen when Irene told Lucian angrily of the pain he had caused her so often through his affairs, and even if he did leave her and marry Marion it would all end in disaster.

Lucian had never been physically violent with Irene, but when she referred to Marion as a selfish slut he struck her. Looking as if he was going to strike her again Irene seized a carving knife and threatened him with it. Lucian was not the type to be frightened by a threat and he tried to wrest he knife from Irene. In the struggle the knife went in under his ribs and killed him.

* * * * * * * *

I visited Irene while she was in prison awaiting trial on a charge of manslaughter, the charge of murder having been dropped. She was devastated by what she had done and kept saying repeatedly, “I’ll never forgive myself…I’ll never forgive myself…he was my love, my life…”

At her trial Irene seemed to be completely detached from what was happening around her. No doubt to the despair of her defence council she made no attempt to defend herself, answering the questions put to her by defence or prosecution in a low lifeless voice.

Witnesses were called by the defence to testify to the endless affairs Lucian had engaged in during their marriage and that Lucian had said he was leaving her to marry Marion. Reference was made to the mark of Lucian’s blow on Irene’s cheek and the marks on her wrist as they had struggled.

Marion was called by the prosecution and her bitterness and hatred were obvious, they seemed to ooze from her very pores. She hardly needed the questions of the prosecutor to spit her venom, referring to Irene as an evil slut, a woman eaten up with jealousy because she couldn’t hold Lucian and who had deliberately murdered him. Several times the judge had to caution her to just answer the questions put to her.

The prosecution made great play of the fact that the world had been deprived of a great artist, an artist of genius, but this did not seem to influence the court.

The defence counsel tried and succeeded in getting the court’s sympathy for Irene, but as she had pleaded guilty the outcome was fairly obvious from the start of the trial.

She was sentenced to six years imprisonment with possible release after four years. I visited her in prison as soon as possible and found her pale, haggard and unresponsive.

She did not even survive the first year of her imprisonment dying, some said, from a broken heart, and from the humiliating rapes she endured from her fellow female prisoners. It was true that she had been suffering from pneumonia but from a medical point of view she should have recovered. It seemed that she had wanted to die.

For myself I subscribe to the broken heart view. Despite all the pain Lucian had caused her she had loved him and accepted him with all his faults. As she had said, she could never forgive herself for what she had done, and this gentle woman had willed herself to die.

I had loved her once; perhaps I always had even after her marriage. I think no one mourned her death as deeply as I did.

* * * * * * * *

I did not see Marion for several months after kaçak iddaa the trial and when I did it was at her parent’s house where I was staying for a weekend. Lucian was dead, but he had not left Marion without some sign of his passing through her life; his child was growing in her womb.

At first sight, and despite her swollen belly, she seemed to have retained her doll-like beauty. Initially she was uncommunicative with me, believing that I had been, as she put it, “On Irene’s side,” which I suppose I had been.

It would however not be true that I lacked sympathy for Marion. She was young, spoilt and seemingly impervious to other people’s feelings, but there was no doubt that she had loved Lucian and had been prepared to do anything to keep her hold on him. Perhaps it might be put down to the selfishness of youth combined with over indulgent parents.

Over the course of the weekend she gradually came around. She needed someone to talk to – someone who had been close to the tragic events.

Her bitterness over Irene had not changed. She was convinced that Irene had deliberately murdered Lucian so that she could not have him, and said that she should have gone on trial for murder, and being found guilty it was a pity the death penalty was no longer used. She rejoiced in Irene’s death and hoped she had gone to hell.

She added that if Irene had not died in prison she would have killed her when she came out. She said this so vehemently that I felt a cold shiver run up my spine.

It was as I sat listening to her anger and bitterness that I began to notice something had changed in her; I saw it in her eyes. They had once been so alive and bright, but now they looked like those of the doll she resembled.

It has been said that the eyes are the mirror of the soul. Looking into her eyes then it was as if she had no soul, as if the essential life spirit had gone from her. The death of Lucian had killed something in her as well.

Marion was not used to not getting what she wanted, and what she had most wanted in her life had been Lucian. For once in her life thwarted, it was as if for her life had come to an end.

* * * * * * * *

I did not see Marion again for many years and so what I now write relies on gossip and rumour, but as I have already written, those concerned have read my account and have not contradicted it.

Marion’s parents had been horrified by her involvement with Lucian and the tragic outcome of that involvement. They wanted her to terminate the pregnancy which she refused to do. I have no doubt she believed that by having his child she would still have something of Lucian with her.

Perhaps feeling that their over indulgent upbringing of her had contributed to events her parents wanted to remove the source of their guilt from their sight.

However that may be, they did settle a considerable amount of money on her, enabling her to have her own establishment.

She gave birth to a son, Ivan, and it is at this point Marion’s personality seemed to split into two un-integrated strands. Some people said it was as if she had become two people instead of one.

One strand involved her son. Whether or not it was because she felt that she still had something of Lucian with her, what love she had to give was showered on him, the more so as he grew towards manhood and his resemblance to Lucian became increasing obvious.

The other strand of her personality is less easy to understand. To state it at it’s simplest, she became a flirt, but according to the reports I received that word is too mild to describe her behaviour. Seductress might better describe her, or as one of her victims put it to me, “A prick teaser.”

From the reports that I received it seemed that she played the game of Rapo with men. She lured them on with what seemed like promises of sexual pleasure to come, and just at the moment when he man thought he’d won, and was perhaps fondling her breasts or putting his hand up her skirt, she would push him away saying something like, “I’m not that sort of girl,” or, if she wanted to be really vicious, threaten to scream the place down.

The man would be left bewildered, embarrassed and frustrated.

Why she played this game is hard to determine and so what I now write is pure conjecture on my part.

Having lost what she considered to be the love of her life, she had contempt for all other men. What she was trying to do was to prove that no man could ever replace Lucian, and thus all other men were contemptible and deserved to be treated as such. From such behaviour she demonstrated that men could not resist her, and it amused her to see them confounded.

I did wonder if she realised what a dangerous game she was playing because such games can end in rape, blackmail, suicide or murder, but it seemed that she escaped the more dire consequences of her behaviour, at least for a long time.

* * * * * * * *

I must now turn to Ivan and some aspects of his life with Marion. I kaçak bahis was not witness to the things he told me, but I believe I can trust his memory of events, especially as they relate to his teen age years.

I met Ivan only once when he was visiting his maternal grandparents and I happened to be spending another weekend with them.

I must say that if I’d thought of him at all over the years it was to anticipate that he would have a personality like his father and mother. I could not have been more wrong.

He was sixteen when I met him and certainly he bore a remarkable physical resemblance to Lucian and I could almost imagine I was seeing Lucian again as he had been at that age. Ivan had not yet reached his full growth potential but already he was at least five feet nine tall with a fine physique and his father’s handsome looks. It was hard for me to see him like that and it brought me close to tears, remembering Lucian as he had been back then.

It was as I spoke with Ivan and watched him mingling with the other guests that weekend that I saw that although he resembled his father in looks, he did not resemble him in personality.

Unexpectedly gentle in one so physical: considerate; well mannered and seemingly attentive to and sympathetic with those he spoke to, I could well have imagined he was Irene’s son and not Marion’s.

When I asked him about his mother he seemed uneasy in his replies but he hinted at what I’d already been told about her behaviour with men. During his childhood Ivan had not understood the implications of his mother’s behaviour with men but in his teenage year’s realisation had come and he began to feel ashamed of Marion.

It was another of the weekend guests who told me that Ivan was deeply troubled about his mother’s behaviour with the school friends he brought home who were around the same age as Ivan, and of course, potent and vulnerable young men.

She had begun to use the same sexually taunting tactics that she employed with most reasonable looking males that came her way, and for Ivan this had led to conflicts and even a fight on one occasion, when one of the young men referred to Marion as a filthy whore.

Ivan felt that he could no longer bring his friends home because of his mother’s behaviour, and a gap began to grow between him and his mother.

I did not expect to see Ivan again, or his mother for that matter, but fate decreed otherwise, and although it was another five years, out of the blue came an invitation to Ivan’s twenty first birthday celebration.

I could not understand why I had got the invitation, but later discovered it came via his grandparents who seeing me as a friend of the family, assumed that this included friendship with Marion and Ivan.

* * * * * * * *

Arriving at Marion’s house I was astonished to see her look little different from how I remembered her. At forty years of age she had still retained her beauty but looking into her eyes I saw that blank, dead look still there. I had originally put this down to her loss of Lucian but it seemed incredible to me that she should still be mourning her loss. To my mind there was something pathological about such grief.

She treated me warily and we only spoke briefly before she turned to greet others. I wandered off, but in the light of what I had been told about her, I observed her behaviour carefully throughout the evening.

She was wearing a black fine muslin dress that exposed one thigh almost to her crotch, revealing her black panties. Her legs were encased in black sheer silk stockings and it was obvious she was not wearing a bra, because the top of the dress plunged down in a vee between her breasts revealing her deep cleavage and leaving her almost naked to the nipples.

I have to admit I was not unaffected by her beauty and this display of her female assets and I could easily imagine that she could hook any man she chose into her sex games. Fortunately I was not a man she would want to play her game with.

Throughout the evening I watched her with men, and despite the milling crowd she seemed to have no shame in playing the sex game. She appeared to be targeting the young men of Ivan’s age who were his fellow university students and I could see Ivan’s look of disgust and his growing anger.

Marion moved from man to man, and several times I saw her disappear into some quiet corner of the house with her victim, only to see him emerge after several minutes, red faced, angry, no doubt frustrated and ashamed.

One or two of the victims left the party, and I was on the verge of leaving myself when I saw Ivan approach Marion. Ivan had the look of someone struggling to keep his temper under control and he said something to Marion that made her freeze.

He has told me since that what he said to her was, “You’re behaving like some cheap tart mother, and you’re ruining the party.”

What Marion replied I could not hear and she has never told me since, but she seemed to spit words at him and I saw her raise her hand as if to strike him. The brief altercation had attracted the attention of people standing nearby who looked on, some with embarrassment, others trying to hide their amusement.

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John and his mom turned from the door after saying good-bye to the ladies. Even though both had managed sexual gratification, each remained needy, wanting, unfulfilled. Each wanted the other to make the first move, unsure that their sexual desires were reciprocated. Yes, John had noted the look in his mother’s eyes when he had kissed her that morning. Yes, his mother had noticed the bulge in his pants on more than one occasion, but was unsure if it was for her or for that prissy Phoebe. Something had definitely changed; however, each was now freely admitting to themselves that they wanted the other. Each was examining the possibility of taking the love they had for the other to another level and finding that possibility acceptable. However, how was the question? Neither wanted to destroy what they already had. Each feared that the other would consider them a pervert if they even suggested the possibility to the other. So unconsciously, both began to give hints, with body language, that they wanted the other. The age-old art of seduction had begun.

They went back to the kitchen to clean up. John made sure that each time his mom brought dishes to the sink they touched. Sometimes it would just be a hand, other times their hips would rub together as they worked side by side. She would accidentally brush a breast against his arm as she turned beside him to put away a dish. He moved around her accidentally brushing his pelvis against her derrière as he moved by her. This “accidental” dance continued each moving freely into each other personal space as more and more body parts came in contact for longer and longer periods of time. Gentle smiles of love passed between them almost coy in nature, wanting to attract yet fearful of the consequences. They were so unlike the usual relaxed loving smiles, which had flashed between them all his life. Now uncertain, yet searching, inquiring smiles, tentative, hesitant, beseeching smiles, that brought the growing lust between them to new heights as their newfound playfulness manifested itself.

He suddenly splashed her with water from the running tap wetting the top of her dress and face. She retaliated with giggles and laughter, scooping her hands beneath the water and flinging it at him, and then turned to run not waiting for his watery reply. He reached out to grab an arm, but this time truly accidentally garbed the sleeve of her dress instead. Her forward momentum tore it from her shoulder. Buttons rained on the kitchen floor as the shoulder of the dress slid down her arm pulled apart at the front. It totally exposed one bra covered breast as the sleeve gave way leaving a piece of fabric in his hand. She turned to find part of her dress dangling from his hand, her chest heaving, partly from exertion, but partly from the passion that had coursed through her body all day. She made no move to cover up.

“Mother, I’m so sorry,” he exclaimed, “I meant to grab you by the arm so I could splash you again, but inadvertently caught your sleeve. He tentatively held it out, and then laughed ruefully realizing it was no longer of any use. He dropped it on the kitchen counter never taking his eyes off the beautiful lacy bra that heaved up and down in front of him with each breath she took. It was a beautiful bra, designed to show off rather than conceal. Through the lace her could see her dark areola crowned by a very aroused and swollen nipple, was it for him he thought, or was it simply the cold of its exposure. She saw the concern on his face and laughed it away.

“It’s okay son, its just a dress, but I’ll have to find something else to wear.” Not revealing it had been one of her favorites realizing she had worn it to entice.

“Come upstairs mother, I’ll find you something to put on.” She knew she still had lots to wear even though it had been a hard day on her wardrobe, but followed her son, after he had turned off the water, not sure what she had in mind. When they got to his bedroom, he rifled through his closet and pulled a sweater out. “Here, try this on,” he said. She noticed the strange scent fill the air as with sudden impulse she thought of a subterfuge that would suffice. With artful deception, she pretended that he meant her to wear the sweater illegal bahis not over her torn dress but as a piece of clothing on its own. She turned sideways to him as if to conceal her body from him but in reality to present a profile of breast and naked buttock. The scent of the old house grew stronger as she slipped the dress from her shoulders and slid it down over her flaring hips to fall crumpled to the floor. For the first time he saw his mother almost naked, wearing the lacy bra and the tiny thong. He was rock hard as he hesitantly moved towards her entering her personal space, now not caring that his cock signaled his intent. She turned into him one hand coming up to stroke his cheek her eyes looking deeply into his as though searching for her absolution within his. Her mouth upturned, red, inviting, her lips slightly parted, shiny where she had licked them. Their lips touched lightly, feather like, almost like a mother son kiss, then it became a man woman kiss, full of tongue and saliva, heat and passion, lips bruising against teeth. Their bodies shivered with lust. Her arms over his shoulders one going down his back the other around his head her hand in his hair using the leverage it gave her to rub her bra covered tits against his chest and mash her mouth against his, frantically sucking on his tongue. His hands running over her body bringing heat wherever they touched.

He gripped her ass, pulling her buttocks hard apart in his urgency to pick her up. She brought her legs up trying to grip him, but before she could, he whirled, throwing her onto the bed. He pulled the shirt he was wearing over his head and tossed it somewhere. He fumbled at the clip that held his pants together and when it did not separated immediately yanked it apart destroying the zipper at the same time. The pants were gone. He actually had to struggle for a moment to get the waistband of his underwear over his rampant cock. He stumbled towards the bed his ankles still entangled in his shorts. With one final kick they shot across the room. Then he stood before her. Her son naked as the day he was born, with one exception, a big fat hard cock, red and engorged with desire, want , need. Roughly, he reached between her tender thighs and yanked at the crotch of her thong tearing the thong where the string that ran through her ass met the crotch. Its wetness slapped her abdomen as he flipped it up exposing how wet she was. Her hairy lips oozed her preparedness onto the bed. They were also red and engorged succulent in their need. He didn’t even bother with her bra, just simply shoved it up around her neck. He grabbed her by her tits and kneaded them for a moment as he positioned himself for her ravishment. Her tits sent wonderful messages to her twat as she reached for his dick.

Suddenly he hesitated, as she centered him, almost as if he was trying to regain some control over his unbridled lust. It was almost anger in her voice when she spoke,

“You fuck me now, she yelled in her excitement, “use me, do me, cream me, but you damn well make sure I cum.”

‘I’m going to get it now’ she thought to herself as he penetrated her forcefully. They behaved almost like it were a fight, a love match at best, each too aggressive to be tender, each so needy they barely considered the others needs as they writhed and rutted on the bed. They both could feel the wet crotch of her thong riding between their bellies smearing their bodies with her juice. Her hands pulled on his buttocks as she brought her legs up to allow even deeper penetration. Her nails dug in forcing him deeper. Droplets of blood formed on his buttocks, a trail following the line of her dragging nails. One of her lips split as she mashed them harder against his own. He tasted her blood and then finding it not enough sucked on her lower lip taking more blood. Her thighs griped his ribs and bent at the knees her lower legs flopped in time to his thrusting rhythm. Her hairy cunt thrust upwards surrounding his shaft with her warmth and wet. Then it started deep in her womb, the phantoms of orgasm swirling deep in her belly. “‘Fuck me harder, screw me deep,” she screamed into the heavy scent, redolent in the air around them. He frenzied by her urgency pounded her hard feeling illegal bahis siteleri the skin on his cock pull as he went deep. The phantoms swirled faster and faster, tighter and tighter, until they coalesced into a red-hot ball deep in her innards, bursting into an explosive orgasm spreading outward like liquid fire, down her thighs, up to her tits burning her nipples with ecstasy. A pipe rattled. Her vocal noise added to the din. She held his shuddering spewing body tight against her with arms and legs tightened by orgasmic seizure until her clit cried for mercy now far too sensitive to touch. She wept, as he withdrew from her in the agony of loss. It was the fucking of her life, no man had ever moved her so before.

He went to his knees between her legs dragging her hips across the bed so her ass was but inches from his nose. He saw how red and sensitive her raggedy lips looked still gapping from the shafting he had given them, how swollen her hairy lips looked, puffy and abused. A little trickle of semi-transparent whiteness ran over her perineum and down to her ass. Her thighs still trembled slightly, he wasn’t sure why, was it because he had stretched them wide with his pounding hips or her physical reaction to her orgasm? It didn’t really matter, he loved his mother deeply and he intended to soothe away any pain she may have felt. First, he took a hold of the waistband of her thong and gently eased it from her body. She lifted her bum helping him. He started just above her knee, kissing licking sucking on her fleshiness. He soothed her succulent white skin with mouth and tongue. Occasionally, he tasted her sweet juice as her slowly moved up her legs moving his mouth from side to side trying not to miss any of her inner flesh.

As he moved higher, her skin became softer more pliant more succulent, tastier as he found more and more of her juice to savor. Her scent stronger, compelling, intoxicating, now his taste was sometimes intermingled with hers. He brought his mouth to the crease that joined leg to groin. She spread her legs wider giving further access to her beauty. His mouth searched for and found the line of ligament and muscle that caused a ridge in her crease sucking on it to relax her. He moved to the other side taking a deep breath in passing to repeat his ministration on her other crease. His nostrils filled with her powerful heady scent causing his cock to twitch and begin to rise. Ever so gently, he slid his hands under her soft lovely buttocks and lifted her hairy pussy towards his lips. His mouth surrounded one swollen hairy labia licking and sucking oh so carefully soothing before transferring his mouth to its twin once again taking a deep inhalation of her feminine stink.

He knew he was arousing her again by the strength of her scent, finally he took her pinky brown inner lips between his own tasting both his and her flavors as he sucked the soft petals that guarded the entrance of her warm moist cunt. He had planned to fuck his mother again but this was too beautiful almost ethereal and he didn’t want to stop. Her hands had come to hold his head sometime ago, he hadn’t really noticed when, but now they applied gentle pressure suggesting she had further use for his mouth. He slid his tongue between the petals that guarded her and tasted their commingled mix. He then withdrew and slid his tongue from perineum to clitoral hood tasting everything in its path. Her pussy hunched upwards, her ass muscles flexed in his hands, demonstrating her need. He allowed his head to be manipulated so that his tongue was in constant contact with the little soldier of love that hid in the folds that formed the apogee of her sex. It stood tall and proud as her humping hips rubbed it all over his now still and flattened tongue. Quivers of need chased one after the other as her orgasm built until it crashed over his face smearing delicious cum over his tongue and her cries of passion sounded in the evening air. He waited until her body settled and then announced

“That was delicious mom, but I’m still hungry and there are two steaks in the fridge with our names on them. I should’ve saved that tasty treat for desert.”

She laughed and replied, “You’ve certainly helped canlı bahis siteleri me work up an appetite son, I could use a steak. As for dessert, I’m sure we can work something out by the time we need to.” John put on a pair of boxer shorts while his mother removed the bra that was still above her breasts. Nude, she slipped into the sweater he had intended for her to wear over her torn dress. Its wait band circled her thighs just below the checks of her ass. If she lifted an arm or bent over in any way, he knew she would moon him. Unperturbed, she lead the way down the stairs to the kitchen, opened the fridge and bent over slightly looking for the steaks. Sure enough her beautiful ass peeked out from under the sweater. Turning her head, she winked at him and giggled. “Where are the steaks, John?” She asked. He bent over her cupping one check of her butt firmly in his hand, and pointed to the steaks she couldn’t have failed to see. With much goosing, laughter, and sexual innuendo, they managed to throw steaks on the grill, potatoes in the microwave, and toss a salad. John got out a bottle of red wine and they sat down to a steak dinner with enough trimmings to make it worthwhile. After eating their fill, John opened a second bottle of wine filling her glass once more before he replaced the cork and put it in the fridge.

“Are you glad I came today?” she asked, nervously glancing at her son.

He understood what she was really asking and answered, “Yes, I am mother and I hope you are too, I’ve had a wonderful time and I will never regret a minute of it.”

She smiled, the nervousness gone and reached out to hold his hand on the table. “I think I need a shower,” she said tossing back the wine rather quickly, not the way his mother usually drank, “do you think you could help me scrub my back?” Her smile was now playful, loving, and she stood to lead him up the stairs. He followed her, watching the muscles of her beautiful ass flex as she took each stair. She knew her ass was one of her better assets and took care to give him and excellent show. Swinging it from side to side wanting to entice, wanting her son’s hands to fondle her bum once more. As they walked down the hall he put an arm around her waist and said,

“You really do have a beautiful ass mother.” He reached down and fondled it as she had hoped before goosing her. They threw his clothes over the wall of one of the stalls and he adjusted two showerheads so they could stand between them. He fondled her body until they were both slick and wet then reached for what was left of the bar of soap the girls had used the day before. Moving them out of the direct spray of the shower he began to lather her, paying close attention to tits and pussy until she laughed and said,

“Those aren’t my back honey, but you just keep on doing what you’re doing.” Which he did until he returned them to the spray, holding her like all men hold their women in the shower. Left hand crossing her chest to hold the right boob, while his right hand cupped her succulent hairy pussy fingering gently to arouse her. He never did scrub her back. The house took a moment to send further urges of desire and she turned her head and lifted her face begging the kiss that she immediately received. With thoughts of leaving the shower suddenly he exclaimed,

“Damn, I’ve left all the towels in the washing machine.” He left the bathroom, dripping wet, to return in a moment with two pillowcases in his hands. “I’m afraid these will have to do.” They easily made do helping each other dry. She grabbed their clothes and led him to the third floor her ass a wonder in motion, undulating in anticipation. As soon as they made it to the bedroom, she turned and kissed him passionately loving her son deeply. She pushed him back until they fell into the bed she lying on top of him.

“It’s time for dessert,” she said, turning above him and presented her gash, redolent with scent, awaiting his talented tongue. With an “I need some dessert too,” she took his cock in hand and engulfed the rest in her warm wet mouth. Soon her head was bobbing vigorously checks hollowed as she sucked.

The house groaned out its pleasure, it had turned out to be a most successful day as it gathered their pheromones to add to its extensive collection. The house looked forward to another day with them in it. It did not know that it should be worrying about Phoebe. John wasn’t thinking of Phoebe either he was having too much fun with his mother.

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[©2011 BY CLINTON09; ALL CHARACTERS ARE OVER THE AGE OF 18; NO EVENTS ARE REAL AS DESCRIBED; ALL NAMES WERE CREATED FOR THIS TALE; THIS STORY HAS A ‘HARDER EDGE’ THAN MOST; BE WARNED: HERE BE DRAGONS; FOR AGES 25 OR ABOVE]

[A father performs the ultimate sin: forcing himself upon his daughter.]

[Caveat: this tale contains violence in parts of the story; it is a necessary ‘engine’ for the narrative, but you are forewarned…]

*

David Archer Blount was proud. Sure, he was getting a divorce which signified a failure of sorts. Still, the court awarded him custody of his wonderful daughter Hailey, and that was a victory in and of itself.

It was the culmination of a titanic battle between two parents. Agnes, David’s wife, had spent their entire marriage disparaging him and his career. She made a point to have Hailey hear that too. For her part, Hailey didn’t know what to think…

Hailey had just turned 18. She was the fairest girl in her high school—the fairest in all the land. Beautiful, blonde, blue eyed, peaches and cream complexion, with a fantastic figure honed by years of gymnastics training.

David had attended more than a few of her high school competitions. As a good father he watched in quiet admiration and only platonic interest as his gorgeous daughter did balance beam and floor exercises that made more than a few males in the tiny crowd shift in their seat. Spectacular…

Hailey’s mom had been her chaperone in years prior to the divorce. This basically meant that she’d go on the road to ensure that Hailey stuck to her training regimen, honored the curfew, and most importantly, remained chaste. It was just too bad that Hailey’s mom didn’t abide by the same rules.

It was after a regional competition. Hailey had been safely ‘tucked into bed’ by her mom. That was at the 11pm curfew. At about 1:45am, Hailey woke up and realized that she hadn’t been officially registered in the national meet to follow.

Putting on a terrycloth robe, the gorgeous Hailey padded barefoot into the hotel corridor and went to her mom’s room. Her mom had given her the spare magnetic door key, never dreaming Hailey would use it at almost 2am in the morning.

Figuring that if she came in quietly and her mom was asleep, she could leave and never disturb her, Hailey slipped the plastic key into the door latch and tiptoed in.

She stood in the alcove, stunned. On the king-sized bed, there was her mom…her chaperone…being serviced by the biggest blackest buck in the region.

Hailey felt like running away, but some part of her was riveted. She watched as his jet black snake was fed into the gaping maw that was her mom’s private area. It plunged in with the power of a Corvette engine piston.

As the ‘rpm’s’ of their love-making increased, the bed springs sang a song of lust. Her mom’s legs encircled the dark as coal powerful hips of her new lover; his dark sack bounced against her behind.

With a frenzied passion that she had never displayed before, she threw herself into the lovemaking. Blippity bam, blippity bam, their bodies were driving the bed into the floor. Then, she rose slightly from the bed as he seemed to lean forward, extending himself into the deepest recesses of that MILF soccer mom.

Finally, her mom’s moans reached a crescendo and Hailey watched in horror as those black non-family jewels expanded and contracted. She counted 5, 6, 7, 8…eight times his balls inflated like balloons before contracting, no doubt causing a heavy load of raw African seed to be deposited into her mother’s fertile womb.

At the mid-point, by the fourth such explosion, the excess sperm-loaded cum began to drool out of her well-fucked cunt. By the eighth time, her mom was squealing with her third orgasm. A puddle of their passionate fluids collected on the bed and now dripped to the floor.

That tall, dark and handsome stranger was pumping his seed into the fertile depths of her mom. Worse, she knew her mom’s cycle was almost parallel to hers. This was a peak time for Hailey, so…? She also knew her mom eschewed the pill and any IUD or diaphragm usage.

As he rolled off of her, Hailey had a micro-second look at her mother. It looked like someone had spilt a full glass of milk ‘down there’; excess cum was dripping and streaming down every square inch of her lower body.

Hailey escaped quietly. Standing in the hotel hallway, she ran back to her room. She opened her robe, stunned to see her nipples had popped, her just turned 18 year old pussy dripping. She had never ‘touched herself’ before…after all, girls were not creepy like guys. However, she noticed that one of the shampoos bottles was very ‘well shaped’.

Oh, well, what the heck. She grabbed the bottle, got at the edge of the bed, and used that (lucky) bottle like it was a man’s item of similar design…

As she replayed the sounds of her mother’s illegal bahis simultaneous orgasm with that stranger in her mind, that innocent bottle moved in and out at faster and faster motion; at the end, it was just a blur as Hailey got herself off. As her tanned, muscle toned, shapely legs descended to the bed, Hailey collapsed… totally spent.

Hailey told herself not to bring up the event to anyone, ever. That lasted a good 24 hours. It was such a juicy secret that she had to ‘tell dad’. Well, as you might guess, a divorce soon transpired and the court put her under her dad’s aegis.

Her father did not have to give up his career for Hailey; he could have kept working and made arrangements. Still and all, he took early retirement at 55 and vowed to replace his wife as Hailey’s chaperone during the gymnastics’ season.

When they were on the road, he would plant himself in her room, making sure no one was there but also ensuring that she did the prescribed calisthenics and other exercises required to keep in shape for competition. One can only imagine what he felt when his 18 year old daughter, nubile, lithe, stood before him after those workouts.

Looking like a young Bo Derek from ’10’, she would be panting, her tissue thin white leotard adhering so tightly to her perfect body that it would seem to have disappeared. As he would look up from his seated position, his daughter dripping sweat would ask daddy if she could go take her shower.

He had to be a ‘good father’ and somehow NOT notice her pouting nipples, her beaver fluff, or even the incredible outline of her unbelievable figure. He would always look her square in the eye and nod.

Things took a dark turn July 22nd of that year. It was the year that Hailey had turned 18 and the divorce was finalized. Although the courts awarded him custody, since she was 18 he would get nothing from his wealthy wife.

Worse, that was one of the states that had the unjust law that any birth within marriage was presumed to have been the husband’s doing, evidence to the contrary notwithstanding.

Thus, when his treacherous wife’s ‘unexpected pregnancy’ turned out to be not of David’s doing, the divorce court held that he still owed support…for his wife AND her ‘love child’! David was understandably ‘delighted’.

That night, he got tanked up. He never drank, but the court edict merited some sort of stupid act. Staggering home, he went by Hailey’s room. Night after night, she would do yoga, calisthenics, and light weights before showering and hitting the hay.

In their 19th century home, the old fashioned door locks with big key openings afforded one a good view into any room. In the past, he would take a lightning glance just to be sure his daughter was home, safe and sound. Tonight, liquored up as he was, he took more than a casual look.

There, in the nude…in the NUDE, was the most beautiful woman in the world: his own daughter. Her eighteen year old body was the absolute vision of perfection, a true Barbie doll 35D-23-36. Her gym training never stopped; she had a scholarship to the University of Georgia which had a rich tradition in woman’s gymnastics.

Staring upon this goddess, something snapped within him. It was the booze; the part of him that said “stop, don’t look: you are father” failed. What took over was “woman: gorgeous; mate”, the so-called reptilian or primitive brain. As his head spun, he went into her room.

Hailey was understandably shocked, being in the nude as she was. She screamed about his ‘mistake’, grabbing the bedspread to cover up. She of course assumed that he would beat a hasty retreat. Her mouth fell agape, her eyes widened before filling with tears as her father relentlessly closed upon her.

It was a strange moment; in his alcoholic condition, he was not nearly as strong as his incredibly fit daughter. She could easily have fled or caused him harm. Instead, she was as conflicted as he was, almost frozen in place.

David pulled the bedspread off of Hailey, causing her to stand before him in all of her magnificence. In a drunken slur, he spoke:

David: “Ya…you are fuckin’ gorgeous. I knew it! God, all of those years watching you…I never could be sure. Those damn gymnastics leotards; the way they exploited you. Lord, when your puss hit that parallel bar, when you did a split on the beam, or splayed out on the floor, even your father had to gasp. I can’t believe the stands weren’t filled with guys.”

“All I know was that I was there, supportin’ you; where was your mother? God, if only I knew that I wanted you. Well, now that you are 18…and I’m drunk…I want to make love to you…I’m so ashamed…a part of me wants to leave, but another wants me to do this.”

With that, he grabbed her and put her flat on her back. Again, she could’ve kneed him in the ‘coconuts’ or scratched, but instead she just laid there. Had there been a third illegal bahis siteleri party observer, they’d have seen it was clearly a matter of ‘letting him get it over with’.

Instead of hurrying, he calmly sat on her bed and proceeded to worship at the altar of his almost perfectly built daughter. First raising a shapely tanned leg, with the heel of her demure little foot in his palm, he drunkenly pawed and kissed the soft perfect foot.

Next he worshipped the length of that bikini-waxed smooth leg. Carefully restoring it to the bed, he bent over to stare, touch, and finally give full ‘attention’ to her ‘woman’s area’. His tongue-work made her tense–whether from excitement or horror was not clear. What WAS clear was that she was breathing much heavier now.

Father or no, he was determined to get his daughter ‘off’. After minutes of intense activity, his gorgeous daughter tensed before shouting at the top of her lungs in orgasmic release. Her hands that had tried to remove him held his head down ‘there’ until she reached her perfect climax.

He finally finished ‘down there’ and continued up her perfect tummy, rippling with chiseled abs. She was so damn firm and solid: so hard and yet so soft. David’s progress got him to her perfect breasts, where he made one, then the other, nipple pop almost audibly. He finally got to her lips and here she twisted and turned.

His hands sought out her face, holding it so that he could bestow a full, sloppy, drunken French kiss upon her pouting candy apple flavored lips. Tears ran freely from both of her sparkling blue eyes. Again, she took no ‘defensive action’ whatsoever. After a long almost languid kiss, her father made his final move, mounting the love of his life…

Alcohol is not Viagra, of course; David’s proud seven incher was only a four incher that night. If you’ve seen drunks taking those sobriety tests at the side of the road, you can understand why he couldn’t even find the ‘right spot’ for a long time that night. When he did finally, Hailey just had to speak:

Hailey: “Daddy, I know that you are drunk; I realize that as a father you might be a little conflicted right now. Please remember it’s me: Hailey. I love you as a daughter, but as your daughter I ask you…beg you…don’t do this. I won’t tell anyone anything if you just stop now…please.”

It was an ‘out’ for him. If he stopped then, all would be forgiven. He should’ve stopped, even if he didn’t want to, because there was no sense going forward.

Sadly, his judgment was totally gone, and he tried to go forward. Though he found the ‘right spot’, his four-incher had no ‘steel’ in it and deflected off of her entrance like a bullet off Superman’s chest.

As he drunkenly tried again and again, it was just no go. He rose up on all fours above her. His now modestly sized four inch member could not gain entrance to the most heavenly of places (inside his daughter), so he had to make due rubbing it against the creamy thighs of that goddess.

With his manhood still outside the entrance to heaven, he came pathetically, a tiny dribble messing up not only the bed but their living ‘arrangement’. She had given him an ‘out’ and he had just ignored it.

Furious, she tossed her drunken father off of her with ease. Her powerful body moved with supple grace to the bathroom. She did not re-appear for a solid 45 minutes, bathing every part of herself repeatedly.

When she emerged, she saw what was left of her father, crouched over in the hall, sobbing. As the booze wore off, he dimly was aware that he had done something wrong…terribly wrong. He was so ashamed. He didn’t know what would become of them…become of him…now.

In the event, Hailey did not have the heart to report him. What she did do was move out, which had the effect of depriving David of his most cherished thing in this world (his beloved daughter.) Even worse than that, Hailey got married, but only common law (no license.)

The husband (i.e. bum) got her preggers before lighting out on her. The pregnancy didn’t help her scholarship for gymnastics, either. By the time she realized her predicament fully, it was just too late to do anything–she was eight months pregnant and all alone.

Stopping for a fill-up at 2am (always a mistake), she found a single convenience store/gas station open at that hour. She also found a ‘two-eleven’ [robbery in progress] with a heavily armed desperado.

This went down in Athens, Georgia. David only heard about it back in Norfolk, Virginia because it was a national story and he couldn’t sleep that night.

As he lay in bed, news readers reported it was a police standoff with hostages taken and shots fired. The robber had this hideously huge Desert Eagle firing .44 magnum ‘Clint Eastwood’ rounds with a deafening report.

The robber just wanted to get away at this point. He had let all the hostages go except for canlı bahis siteleri Hailey, eight-months pregnant and all. When the police negotiator tried to talk him out, he refused all inducements. Instead, he wanted a ‘chopper’ which would whisk him and his hostage to the airport, where they would climb aboard a 727 to take them to somewhere far away with $10,000.

He must have had visions of D.B. Cooper–the mysterious missing hijacker. Of course, they wouldn’t go for it. Several hours passed. In desperation, they talked him into accepting a substitute hostage. However, as the man approached, the robber was concerned that he might’ve been an undercover cop (he was).

Instead of telling him to back off, he cut loose with the Desert Eagle. Poor Hailey was right there, ears unprotected, when the horrific sound of the .44 magnum filled that little convenience store. Fortunately, the police operative was only hit in the shoulder. He scurried away, bleeding profusely but fully recoverable.

Robber: “That was cute…real cute. Look, I’m not going to have some cop in his twenty’s as a hostage, ready to pounce on me.”

Negotiator: “We can’t let you go anywhere with that pregnant woman. She’s just going to slow you down, anyway. [PAUSE] What if we can find some bystander who’s older and obviously not a cop; would that do it? We would get our exchange while you’d still have a hostage and not be slowed down.”

The robber finally relented. He would put Hailey by the back door. With her at the back door (which was concealed from the front), only the robber could see both rear door (his former hostage) and the front door (with the substitute approaching.)

He agreed when he saw the older, broken down wreck of a hostage that they brought forth. If he was an undercover cop (a good possibility) at least he didn’t look like it. The robber gestured with the huge Desert Eagle for Hailey to go. She was now freed as the substitute bystander came in.

The siege continued unabated. Hailey was rushed to the hospital where doctors said she was fine, her pregnancy unaffected. Nonetheless, understandably, she asked for a ‘C-section’ which they did after prepping. It was a boy and he was in perfect health. As a preemie, he was placed into the special incubator used for such births, but he would soon emerge totally normal.

The city of Athens was generously providing for her this day as Hailey rested in her private room post-op. Understandably exhausted from the day’s events, she put on a cable news channel, hoping that she’d be featured in the news. Sure enough, they were just getting to that story.

TV Commentator: “Police today brought an abrupt end to the siege that was the Tay-ran Convenience Store hostage situation in Athens, Georgia.”

TV Commentator: “After trying and failing in several attempts for a peaceful conclusion to the stand-off, they offered a substitute for the lone hostage, an eight months pregnant woman. The brave officer was shot for his trouble, with a serious but survivable wound to the shoulder.”

TV Commentator: “The perpetrator was obviously desperate and would not go easily. Someone else then offered himself as a substitute; the disheveled man was clearly older; sources tell us it was yet another undercover cop. In any case, it was hoped the criminal would go for the trade.”

TV Commentator: “It worked and the young woman was freed. The substitute now became the sole hostage. The police tried again and again to break the siege without allowing this ‘heavily armed lunatic’ anywhere near a helicopter.”

TV Commentator: “When the robber got impatient and started taking shots at the police cruisers parked nose-to-nose in front of the store, the police chief ordered an assault. The robber had just enough time to eliminate the hostage before a sniper with a high-powered rifle eliminated him.”

TV Commentator: “The robber had been previously identified. The hostage’s name was just released: David Archer Blount. We’ve now learned that this was the estranged father of the hostage; that he had understood the risk he was taking but insisted that he be substituted for his daughter.”

Hailey cried at first, and then smiled thru the tears. She smiled not that she was happy that her father was no more. She had long ago forgiven him for what he had done. He, on the other hand, never forgave himself.

Hailey knew that this was the only way he could atone in his mind. She understood. With love and forgiveness, she said a prayer for his soul and for the health and full life ahead for her son, now to be christened David Archer Blount, the second…

It would be quite some time before Hailey would feel comfortable around men again. This wasn’t a problem as her father left her insurance money. She also received a very generous amount from sympathetic people across the nation who heard of her life’s story.

Fortunately, she eventually did find ‘Mr. Right’. She now had two wonderful children who would be told of the heroism of her dad, their grandpa, on that eventful night. It scared them to hear about it; they cuddled with their loving mom; she made it all right again…

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

Thomas Bryton heard the bell ring sounding the end to yet another boring day at school. He ran as fast as he could to his locker the minute he got out of the classroom and only stopped just long enough to yank the denim back from the metal locker before hurriedly relocking it and once again darting off into the crowd of students at Shorehaven High. Pushing past everybody in his way he raced along the corridor until he bounded through the large double doors and into the freedom of Friday after school.

Tommy, he never much liked being called Thomas, ran down the large stairs outside of the entrance to the old building, ignoring the shouts of his teachers and didn’t stop running until he reached the road at the end of the long grass banks in front of the school.

The banks were covered in flowers because of the warm air and sunlight that shone brightly in a cloudless sky, but none of it held his interest at all. All of his attention was on what lay right in front of his eyes.

“Hey Tommy boy.” A familiar voice called to him

“Hey Binxy man, you got it!” He said back with a large smile on his face as he took in the tantalising view of the car in front of him, “Nice one man.”

Jerry Binx was one of Tommy’s friends and he was also on Shorehaven High’s football team. Even though Jerry was two years older than Tommy they were both on the team because Tommy was an outstanding athlete, much like his father who was also on the team when he was young.

Tommy wasn’t an overly big kid however; he was tall for his age though. He was 18 years old and already he was 6′ tall. He had short dark brown hair, cut so the fringe hung just over his eyes, brown eyes and although he wasn’t hugely built, he was muscular in a defined and toned way. Everyone said that he was the image of his father, just a smaller version. His father, Carl Bryton, was 6′ 3″, and with the way Tommy was growing, he would be just as tall when he stopped growing.

“So, you want a lift home or you just gonna stand there staring all day?” Jerry asked with a grin on his face.

Tommy hadn’t realised that he had been staring so hard, but a brand new red Porsche just had to be stared at. Jerry’s came from a very rich family and although Tommy’s family was far from poor, they weren’t millionaires like the Binx family.

“You serious? Cool man, can I take it for a spin?” He asked enthusiastically, still not taking his eyes from the car as he walked closer.

“No way Tommy, I’ve only just got it, I don’t want it crashed and smashed up already.” Jerry said chidingly

“Ha ha, very funny.” Tommy said sarcastically as he walked around to the passenger side and jumped over the car door to sit down.

“Man this is the car of my dreams.” He said as he looked at the brand new interior

“You ain’t seen nothing yet buddy.” Jerry said just before he burned the car out into the road.

Leah Bryton placed the receiver back down onto the handset and smiled broadly to herself. The customer had been tough to win around but her charm never failed, and sure enough she had just earned herself yet another fat amount of extra bonuses because of that deal.

Leaning back in her chair she let herself relax with her hands on folded on her stomach and smiled down at the phone on her desk.

As she smiled triumphantly at the phone she heard a gentle knock on the door.

“Come.” She called, and with one final smile of triumph at the phone she looked up and saw Susan, her receptionist, walk in holding a file in her hands.

“This came for you from head office Leah.” Susan said with a friendly voice.

Leah liked being informal with her staff, especially when she had become friendly with them over time. She thought that it helped the work environment.

“Ah forget it for now.” She said with a smile as she stood up and smoothed her business suit. “It can wait till Monday now, you get off and go home early, it’s the weekend, go and enjoy yourself Susan.”

Susan smiled back at her and stopped walking towards the table.

“You know you’re gonna be caught bunking off one of these days Leah.” Susan said with a grin

“Yeah, but hey, what’s life if you don’t break a rules eh?” She replied with a smile of her own and she walked over to the coat stand to pick up her coat. “And besides, I can get away with anything.” And with that she gave her most innocent look and they both burst in to fits of giggling.

“Come on then before we’re caught,” Susan said as she walked out of the office, “I’ll buy you a drink.”

“Not today Sue, I’ve gotta get straight home. Me and Carl are going to his work’s Halloween party tonight and I’ve got a special surprise for him.” Leah replied as she closed the door behind her and locked it.

“Ooo, really.” Susan said with a knowing smile, “You got that dress then?”

Leah just grinned and began to giggle again and Susan soon joined in.

“So someone will be getting laid tonight then.” Susan said after she stopped giggling again

“Well, maybe.” illegal bahis She replied, trying hard not to giggle again. They just looked seriously at each other for a moment though and then they both burst out giggling again. She was not usually a giggly girl, but she just felt happy today and wanted to be happy.

“So Leah, are you gonna join me in my office before you go home?” Leah heard the voice and immediately knew it was Dwayne Borhand, another executive she worked with, before she turned around.

“In your dreams Dwayne.” She answered back and she rolled her eyes as she looked at Susan and yawned. Susan just smiled back at her.

“You’re always in my dreams.” He said to her and slapped her hard on the ass.

“Your always in my nightmares Dwayne.” She chided back at him and turned away to walk to the elevators, “And besides, you couldn’t handle me.” She called over her shoulder at him as he stood by Susan watching her ass sway.

“I could give you more than you could dream of baby.” He called back at her, and she laughed in response.

Tommy jumped over the door of the Porsche and grabbed his bag after he had landed.

“Whoa, what a hot set of wheels man, you’ll have to let me drive it one day.” He said to Jerry as he stood there admiring the beautiful machine again.

Jerry laughed before he answered, “One day kid, one day.”

Tommy’s smile nearly split his face, “Cool!” He exclaimed, “Anyway, I suppose I better go. Catch ya later Binxy.”

“Yeah, see ya later Tom.” Jerry replied and then burned the car off to speed away down the street.

Tommy turned around holding his bag on his shoulder and slowly walked up the driveway to his house, all the while thinking about Jerry’s new car. He couldn’t believe how fast the thing was, and how smooth a ride. Smiling to himself, he walked up the twisting driveway feeling the warm, gentle breeze.

As he reached the top he noticed both his mom and dad’s cars were in front of the garage. Guess they’re both home, he thought.

When he entered the house, he went straight to the kitchen to get himself a drink and sure enough there they were, Carl and Leah Bryton, his mom and dad.

His dad was sitting reading the sports section of the newspaper at the large wooden kitchen table, dressed in his usual shirt, pants and tie, and his mother was leaning against the counter with her arms folded, drinking some orange juice and talking to Tommy’s dad.

“Hey mom, hey dad.” He said as he threw his bag under the kitchen table and went straight to the fridge.

“Hey Tommy.” His mother replied back

“Alright Kid.” His dad answered without taking his eyes from the paper. He never did when it was the sports pages; he was completely oblivious to everything when anything to do with sort was in front of his face. Even if someone told him he had won the lottery he wouldn’t register it.

“So how did school go today?” His mom asked him

“Yeah it was cool. We won the match again without even having to try really, there’s no other school good enough around here to beat us.” He answered back to her whilst reaching to bring out some orange juice and pour it into a glass. “We could do with some better competition.”

“There is never gonna be any competition for my boy.” His dad said, folding the paper down in front of him and reaching for his can of beer. Obviously he had finished the sports section.

Tommy just laughed as he put the carton of orange juice back in to the fridge and gulped the juice down.

“Have you got practice tonight?” His dad asked him, leaning back in the chair.

“Na, it’s cancelled tonight. Coach said it’s good for us to have fun as well as to train hard.” Tommy answered and walked over to the dishwasher to rid himself of the empty glass

“Well, Coach Harlan is the best there is and he knows what he’s talking about, so you take his advice Tommy and you’ll go far.” His dad said enthusiastically

“So what are you up to then tonight?” Tommy’s mom asked

He leaned against the counter opposite his mother, “I dunno yet, everybody’s going out tonight and they’re all busy so I’ll probably stay in. What you two up to tonight?”

“We’re off to your father’s Halloween party tonight.” His mom said with a smile for his dad, which didn’t last long when his dad spoke again.

“Ah babe, I can’t make it tonight, I got a late night meeting tonight with Seers at his house about a new deal.” Tommy’s dad said, trying not to look at his wife.

Tommy understood why his dad would be wary, his mother had been looking forward to this party for 3 months and now she wouldn’t be able to go. He could already see her face turning into a thunderhead and he thought it best if he left the married couple to it.

He turned gently towards the kitchen door and slowly began to move towards it, trying not to catch anyone’s attention when all those hopes were dashed by what his father said next.

“Tommy could go with you instead. He isn’t doing anything and he was told illegal bahis siteleri to go and have fun.” His dad said hurriedly

Tommy froze on the spot and turned around to say something to stop him being involved when his mom spoke first, and he knew better than to interrupt a woman who wasn’t happy.

“Tommy can go? And drink alcohol? Carl, he’s only 18!” She said, her voice dangerously calm. Tommy knew the next step was shouting. He had to run, he thought to himself, but he couldn’t move as his dad shot down his mother’s points.

“So? I was drinking when I was 18, and so were you Leah. Anyway, one night of being pissed won’t hurt the boy. And so what if he’s only 18 anyway.” Tommy’s dad said

“So what? They wouldn’t let him in anyway, he’s underage Carl!” His mom said still not seeming to be calm. Tommy was however surprised that she hadn’t lost her temper yet though.

“They will, just give him my costume and no one will recognize him. They’ll probably think it was me.” His dad retorted and then visibly relaxed, knowing now that he had beaten down his wife’s points. “Now that would be funny, if they thought he was me. They’d all be wondering how I had managed to party as well as make a deal.” His father said and chuckled to himself.

Tommy was still standing halfway to the kitchen door, but he watched his mother sigh and take a big swig of her orange juice.

“He wouldn’t want to go anyway. He wouldn’t want to spend time with his mom at some party for old people.” His mother said to his father.

Tommy didn’t know what to say. She was right, he didn’t want to spend a night drinking with his dad’s bosses and workmates, but his mother really wanted to go. Ah, if only he could have gotten away before his dad mentioned him. But what could he do!

“Hey mom, I don’t mind going if you still want to go.” He said, and when she looked at him doubtfully he said, “Honest! I got nothing better to do anyway.”

“Look honey you don’t have to ok.” His mother said as she turned around and placed the empty glass on the counter behind her

“Honestly mom, I don’t mind. Ok?” Tommy said, trying to reassure her as best he could that he really wanted to go.

“Well, only if you’re sure Tommy?” She said, half relieved and half disappointed

“I’m sure.” He said and a big smile lit up her face and she walked over and gave him a big hug, then she turned to walk out of the kitchen so she could go and get ready. Great, now he was stuck with a night out with his mom. What a great and fun night this was going to be. Things didn’t get any better when his dad gave him the costume he would be wearing.

Leah stood admiring herself in the mirror as she finished smoothing her dress over her slim body. She knew she looked hot, that was why she bought the dress in the first place, so that Carl wouldn’t be able to resist her and they could have gotten home and had great sex. but now when she got home she would be horny and Carl would be asleep, too tired from his meeting to have sex with her.

She sighed as she looked at herself in the mirror, she was so horny tonight, which is why she had left early, so she and Carl could have sex before going out, only Tommy had come back early, so it was doubly as frustrating now.

“Stop feeling sorry for yourself Leah Bryton” She said to herself in the mirror, and she tried to forget the cravings of her pussy.

Adding some small touches to her make up before taking one last look at herself, she smiled at how hot she looked in the dress. Maybe one conciliation was that Carl would be as sexually frustrated as she would be tonight after seeing her in this.

That thought made her smile deeper and she turned and glided out of the room gracefully.

Tommy stood in the hallway and tried not to look at how stupid he looked in his reflection in the mirror at the bottom of the stairs. He felt like a moron, and worse, he looked like one too.

His dad obviously had the worst taste in costumes that he had ever seen, because his imagination stretched to an amazing length. He had gotten a Batman suit. How imaginative, Tommy thought to himself. But that wasn’t the worst of it.

The suit was the old Batman suit, and was made of a grey lycra/spandex pants and shirt, which clung to your body, Tommy could easily make out the big bulge of his cock. He had a ridiculous black cape hanging down his back and an even more stupid small black mask that only covered his eyes and part of his nose. The only good thing to it was it showed his body toning, but he felt like a fool.

He turned his gaze away from the reflection and tried to forget what he was wearing. That didn’t take long as soon as he turned to see his mother walking down the stairs.

Leah Bryton, he thought of her like that because he had never seen his mother wear something like what she had on now, slowly cam walking down the stairs wrapped in a black dress that clung to every curve of her body, showing every contour of her perfectly formed canlı bahis siteleri body. He had never really noticed her as a woman before, she was just his mother, but this, Tommy wasn’t even sure his jaw was not on the floor.

Leah Bryton stood 5’10”, but with the black high heels on she stood 6’1″ when she finally stood in front of Tommy. The was the skirt of the black dress looked tattered and had rips coming up well past mid thigh level showed Tommy his mothers long creamy legs to perfection, as she wore black fishnet stockings too. Her waist was small and her stomach flat, showing no sign that she had had a baby. It looked like she was wearing a corset but the dress was so tight it would have shown if she was. Her long wavy black hair fell down her back and around her shoulders, framing her beautiful face which looked pale because of the black eyeliner and lipstick she wore, her full lips looked ready to swallow a cock whole, the dress running in cobwebs up her arms to dangle an entire foot over her hands in black material. But Tommy’s eyes rested on his mother’s huge tits. He knew they were big because they were a 42D, but she always wore jumpers or business suits, but this dress hardly contained the two large globes. The Dress was cut at the front so that the neckline fell and showed almost all of her tits, and not just the tops, but a good side of the globe of flesh too. The dress must have shown half of her big tits, right down to just above where Tommy could see her nipples poking hard against the thin material. The twin globes were pushed together to create a formidable cleavage that would surely pop out if she exhaled to fast and by the tightness of the dress and how much of her tits were showing, it was obvious that she was wearing no bra as well.

She was a knockout. Plain and simple! Tommy’s dick had also seen her as it was standing at full attention, rock hard and solid and was obviously plainly visible through the stupid costume he was wearing.

Resting a black fingernail under his chin Tommy’s mother raised his head from staring at her deep cleavage. He expected her to yell at him, but instead all she said was,

“So you like what you see? You don’t think it’s too over the top do you?” She dropped her hand from his chin and began smoothing the front of her dress down from her tits and over her stomach.

“No.” He managed with a squeak, then cleared his voice and tried to calm himself down. His hands went to dangle inconspicuously in front of his cock, trying to hide it. “No, you look great.” He managed to make his voice sound level this time.

What was he doing! This was his mom he was perving over, but he couldn’t help but look at how womanly she was.

She was 34 years old and she looked 25 or 26. She was just stunning.

“Has your father gone then?” She asked him

“Err, yeah, about 10 minutes ago.” He answered, trying to keep his eyes on her face.

His mother smiled slightly and said, “Well, maybe we should go as well.”

He burst out laughing before he could stop himself, “Yeah.” He said sounding like a fool. He could have slapped himself for being so flustered, this was his mom!

As they walked to the car his mom stopped before she opened the door.

“Remember to call me Leah tonight ok? They can’t think you’re my son.” And then she smiled, and if it had been anyone else, he would have said it was a teasing smile. But what she said next made his heart jump almost out of his chest. “Oh and, I think that suit fits you well.” And her eyes flickered quickly towards the bulge in his pants, or was that just his imagination? Surely it must have been.

He didn’t know what to say thought. Was his mom flirting with him? Or was his teenage hormones making him lose control around a hot woman. He couldn’t believe that he actually thought that about his own mother. He tried to push the thought away by telling himself how disgusting it was to think that way about his mom, but she still was a woman, and a hot one. He had to get out of this situation before he slipped up again and stared at her lustfully like he did when he first saw here.

He ducked quickly into the car without so much as a response and his mom laughed lightly as she got into the car with him.

When Tommy and Leah reached the office building of Calpine Sports, where her husband worked, she had to try hard not to smile at Tommy. For the entire journey he had kept his head down or looking through the window so that he wouldn’t be looking lustfully at his mother’s body.

She felt flattered that she could turn on even her own son, and she knew he was turned on by the size of the bulge showing in those tight pants. She made herself stop thinking about the large bulge in between her son’s legs before she drove herself made. She felt a flutter of excitement by teasing him though, she always loved playing, and teasing and flirting she really loved. Even though it was her son she was flirting with, she didn’t feel any disgusted feeling at all, because to pull this off tonight she had to make sure that no one suspected anything amiss.

As she got out of the car and walked around to stand in front of Tommy she saw how hard he was concentrating on her face, which made it obvious that he wanted to look down.

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It had been several years since he’d traveled there, so the SoCal conference he was scheduled to attend was a welcome break despite all the hassles associated with flying. And because he enjoyed the little treasures the Golden State provided, he decided it would be work first, then several days getting reacquainted with his favorite parts of the state. After the conference in San Diego, he’d head up the coast thru LA, Ventura, and Santa Barbara, before spending the night in Santa Maria.

He recalls how work and fun had collided nicely several years back when he had several days on the job in the Lompoc area, and was able to lodge in the same area where one of his favorite movies, “Sideways”, was filmed. Yes, he’d visited the area wineries, loosely retracing the steps of Miles and Jack, and even dined at the Hitching Post, savoring their house wine, and bringing some back to the east coast as a topic of discussion with friends, before finally consuming it a few years later. He’d also found the movie’s “Maya” character interesting, wondering what it would be like to find someone who was educated, pretty, and shared an interest in wine. Someone who shared a lot of the same interests, whom he could enjoy discussing everything from wine to current events. And who knows what else…

Ever the planner, and knowing he’d spend a couple of days transversing Napa and Sonoma Valleys, he made sure to make hotel reservations to ensure he could enjoy the valley’s liquid fruits, and not have to drive too far. Always one who enjoyed the traditions and history of the older hotels, and having stayed often at the Hotel del Coronado, as he did the first few days of this trip, he hoped to find something similar near the wineries. He always liked the furniture many of these older hotels offered; large, Victorian beds and antique-style footed bathtubs. In his mind, there was something mildly erotic about such places, from the natural wood to the service the staff provided, seemingly taking pride in working for the establishment they were tasked to care for. “Tasked” seemed too harsh a word, since they made it appear their work was a labor of love. Taking pleasure in caring for the facility was probably more apt.

The two days of business seemed to go by quickly, with everyone satisfied their particular issues were aired, and many would be addressed through a list of action items and deadlines. Then it was up the road, taking in the scenery before settling for the night in Santa Maria before heading into true wine country. He even drove past the legendary ostrich farm Jack ran naked through during the movie. So silly.

Finally, it was Valley time. While there were a couple of his favorites in both areas, he knew the wineries and people were more friendly, and seemed more fun in Sonoma. At his second stop he saw a small gathering of folks at the bar who seemed to be more interested in hearing the person at the center of the group speak, than the server behind the counter. While the server ensured everyone’s glass contained wine, even she seemed captivated by the young lady who was instructing the patrons.

A few of the patrons were a bit tall, so he moved to the other side of the room before he got a fuller view of her. A slim beauty, drop dead gorgeous actually, carrying on an animated conversation, holding up her glass and showing each of the others the wine, describing its appearance, how to swirl the glass to bring out the bouquet and, when sampling, to really focus on the flavors throughout the entire tasting process. With a stylish self-assurance, illegal bahis a very nice summer dress and some of the sexiest heels he’d ever seen strapped to an ankle, she definitely had everyone’s attention. He was becoming more enamored with her by the moment. The way she moved and spoke. Hell, just the way she appeared so alive and yet so comfortable in her surroundings were a mental turn on for him. He almost forgot to taste his own wine sample as he watched her. Soon, the group left to continue their tour of the property but she stayed behind, standing alone at the bar and occasionally conversing with the server. He was smitten, and just had to get closer and talk to her.

As he neared she looked his way and smiled. He started to feel a desire he hadn’t known in quite some time. Her smile grew as he said hello, and told her how impressed he was with her knowledge of wine, and asked how long she had worked there. She tilted her head back just a little, laughed lightly, and then turned to him and said her name was Michele, and no, she didn’t work at the winery. She just had a deep interest in the grape and what it could produce. I quickly glanced at the server, who nodded with a smile, stepped away and began tending to something, perhaps preparing for the next group of guests.

Michele said she was from the LA area, was getting away from the rat race for a few days, hoping to have a little fun in a relaxing way. All the while displaying a soft, yet sexy smile, she asked him how he ended up at this particular winery. Never at a loss for words, he told her he was from the DC area, visiting the state for business purposes, and was now taking in some guilty pleasures. While he can’t recall what made him say it, he volunteered that he was unattached and traveling alone. He could have sworn he saw a twinkle dance across her lovely eyes when he said this, and her smile seemed to widen, in an almost determined kind of way.

Or, was it just his vivid imagination?

Soon the conversation moved from wine to each of their particular likes and dislikes. If it was possible, Michele seemed to perk up as he described his love for older, historic type hotels, and the reasons why. Having talked for what seemed like hours, getting to know each other better, he suggested they get some dinner. Michele, with an adoringly mischievous smile, said she was more interested in seeing the hotel he was staying at first, and maybe they could get something to eat a little later. He reached for her hand as they walked out to his car together, and after only a few steps she slid her left hand up his arm, moved even closer, and reached across herself with her right hand to grasp his arm just below the elbow, and laid her head on his shoulder. He hoped she wouldn’t notice the immediate bulge growing in the front of his pants as they neared the car. Opening the passenger door for her and holding her right hand with his left, he watched more of her slim legs appear as she sat down and her dress rode up above the knee. All the while she was watching him watching her, with an ever-growing smile. If he wasn’t careful, the object poking at the material in the front of his pants could close the door on it’s own. He walked behind the car on his way to the driver’s side so he could adjust everything that seemed to be straining against his pants.

On the short drive to the hotel they talked about everything they saw, each pointing out different landmarks and asking questions about each, all while her left hand rested on his right leg, just above the knee. His concentration broken, illegal bahis siteleri his thoughts jumped back and forth between getting to the hotel safely and if her hot palm just, almost imperceptibly yet teasingly, moved higher up his leg.

Or, was it just his vivid, almost hopeful imagination?

Upon arrival he quietly cursed the valet because he didn’t get another chance to look at her legs, and any other treasures, as she got out of the car. Did she give a glimpse to the valet, perhaps? Stop the self-teasing, he told himself. Refocusing on the here and now, he noticed how she took a genuine interest in the hotel’s architecture and layout, pointing out the features that caught her eye. Once again, he was impressed with her intelligence, something he found very sexy in the women he’d known who possessed it. She exuded style and class.

The desk clerk smiled at them both as she handed him the key. Did she secretly know what was about to happen under the roof of her hotel in just a few short minutes? Was that a wink? Focus man, focus!

Again, light conversation and hand-holding all the way to the room until they arrived at the dark, and heavy but sturdy-looking wooden door. While she still displayed that soft, beautiful, confident smile, he could feel his heart beginning to race. How did he get to the threshold of his room with someone as smart and beautiful as this woman? There’ll be time for that later, he told himself. For now, give this woman the attention and affection she deserves. It’s time to worship her body, to try and touch her deep within her soul.

He opens the door, allows her to enter first, closely follows her in, and closes the door behind him. Just as it seemed she was going to say something about the room, he takes her by the arm, and gently, but assertively, pulls her to the other side of him so that her back is now against the door. He immediately reaches down and places his wetted lips on hers. He thinks she tried to say “oh” or something, but her hot mouth is now covered by his as they both moan into each other. Her tongue is alive in his mouth, and both tongues dance and fence against one another. He feels something almost electric, and thinks from her reaction she’s feeling the same. For some reason, in a flash he thinks to himself that he’ll never hear the song “Passionate Kisses” again without thinking of this moment. Strange, but that’s how his mind works.

His hands move slowly but determined, from her shoulders, down her smooth back, pulling her in closer, two bodies eagerly pressing against another causing her to softly moan once more. Then further down, past her ass, with a quick pause to feel its tightness, and finally down to her smooth firm legs. As he reaches for the edge of her dress and begins to pull it up to her waist, her hands are starting to work on loosening his belt. Finding the waistband of her tiny panties, he breaks their kiss as he slides his body down, pulling her panties down her soft, slender thighs as he moves lower.

No longer able to manipulate his belt or zipper, she holds her dress up as if to say, look at the sweet prize you’re about to receive. As he’s sliding her panties past her knees, and toward her ankles, he’s also sliding his lips and tongue softly across her quivering lower stomach before arriving at her smooth, sweet smelling mound. Just as he’s planting soft kisses on and around her delicious pussy, she alternately steps out of her panties, which are then tossed toward the middle of the room. As he stands and resumes the heated kiss, they both canlı bahis siteleri fight with his belt and zipper before his pants and briefs are gathered at his ankles in a frantic effort to remove any obstacles between their skin.

Again, its as if their minds are synched when she lifts her dress to her waist while he’s reaching down behind her, just below her tiny ass, and with a thigh in both hands pulls her up the door. Her legs are at his sides, knees bent, and her heels firmly pressing into his lower back. Their breathing and kisses are more intense, and her head is now slightly higher than his, anxiously looking down at him, her hair gently brushing his face. His cock is hard, pointing up slightly, and he feels a slight coolness as the air hits the wet tip. Having aligned her to the target, he slowly brings her down and feels her matching wetness. She’s feather-light and it’s with little effort that she slides down, totally enveloping his cock with her warm, tight pussy. Just as he’s thinking he’s truly found heaven on earth, she tries to utter a word or just give a heavy, satisfied groan but can’t because their mouths are still engaged with each other’s. So her sensuous sound becomes a part of him as it enters his mouth, giving him a sexual energy he’s never experienced before.

Both having felt the initial ecstasy of becoming one, now urgently begin trying to find the next level of pleasure. She begins rocking her hips to get more of him in her. He’s assertively, but lovingly thrusting in and out of her, sometimes shallow, sometimes with a grinding motion trying to get deeper because nothing has ever felt this good before. Its at this moment he hears a steady thumping sound, and then realizes it’s the sound from their bodies – her back, actually – hitting the door. Crudely, his mind flashes to the desk clerk and he imagines she’s walking past the door right now, with a knowing smile.

Strange, but that’s how his mind works.

Coming back to the moment, he begins concentrating on getting them both to the next plateau, without taking them, or at least himself, over the edge. She’s doing incredible things to his body, to his mind, and he never wants it to end. Concentrate on her pleasure, he tells himself, your’s will be the greater for it.

Panting, but determined to get the most from this fiery act, they mutually break their kiss and place each of their faces in the other’s neck. He feels her hot breath, he’s sure she feels his. She smells so good, he feels as if he’d get harder, as if that was even possible at this point. As the thumping of the door continues, and become more urgent, he leans his head back and looks directly at her face. God, she’s beautiful. Her eyes, though half closed now, are still twinkling.

They continue moving together. He asks her if she’s okay. A smile comes to her lips, the tip of her tongue visible in the corner of her mouth, and her eyes widen as she says, “Yes, don’t stop.”

Do you want more?

“Yes, faster.”

Is that how you want it?

“Yes, harder.”

If I give it to you harder and faster, will you come for me?

“I just did.”

He already knew that, she had become so wet their fucking was now effortless as he glided in and out of her. What started as sensual was now primal fucking. Pleasure and instincts had taken over, the heightened build up to release had passed the point of incredible.

Will you let me know when you’re about to come again?

“Yes, I’m almost there.”

Hold on to it and let me come with you, okay?

“Yes. Hurry.”

NO, hold it and let me come with you, OKAY?

“YES! HURRY!”

I want you to look at me as we come together okay?

“YES!! HURRY!!”

Look at me Michele. LOOK AT ME NOW MICHELE!

Oh. My. God.

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

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
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“The quality of mercy is not strain’d. It droppeth as gentle rain from heaven.” – Shakespeare

*

It was early evening when she walked into the bar. He had not expected to see her.

“Can I talk to you for a second,” she said.

“Sure,” he said.

She led him away from the crowded bar area and to an isolated table.

“You’re my friend, right?” she asked.

“Of course,” he said.

“And if I needed you to do something for me, you’d do it?” she said.

“If you needed help, I’d do my best to help you. Is that what you’re asking? Are you planning on robbing a bank or something?” he said.

“I am not planning on robbing a bank,” she said.

“I just was hoping you could show me some mercy. That’s what I need tonight,” she said.

“Mercy?” he said. “Well, now I’m intrigued. How so?” he said.

She sat closer to him.

“I need you to give me tonight. One night. I can’t take it anymore,” she said.

He didn’t say anything.

“My body is so hot for you it is boiling my brain. I can’t think straight. I can’t sleep. I’m shaking sitting this close to you,” she took his hand and pressed it to her chest.

“Feel my heart,” she said. It was beating. Beating fast. She held his hand. “I don’t care what you think of me for telling you this. You win whatever game this is. I’m out of my league. I just need you to have mercy on me. Just this once. Please,” she said.

And she waited.

“You’re right. I am your friend. And because of that, I can’t,” he said.

“You think this is what you want. But tomorrow, this moment will have passed, and you’ll be glad I said no tonight,” he said. She pushed his hand away.

“It never passes. Do you think it was easy for me to come here and ask you for this? If it passed, I wouldn’t have gotten to this point,” she said.

“Seriously, if you won’t do this tonight, I’ll find someone else here who will. I don’t care anymore,” she said. “No, you will not. Go home. Get some sleep and you’ll feel better,” he said.

“Did you not hear me before? I can’t sleep. I can’t sleep because all I can think about is you fucking me,” she said.

He paused for a second. Then he moved to get up and pulled her up with him. “Come on, I’ll walk you out to your car,” he said.

They walked outside and when they got to her car, he went to hug her goodbye.

He got his arms around her but she pushed back. “Don’t. I can’t take it. Don’t touch me,” she said.

“Come on,” he said.

“I am not kidding. I can’t take it right now. Screw it. I’m going back in the bar,” she said.

He gave up as she went back in. He went back to his friends and kept half an eye on her playing a song on the jukebox. He saw a guy go over and start talking to her. It looked like he was asking if she was all right.

He looked away and was distracted for a while. He forgot about her until he looked over again and saw she was now sitting on the guy’s lap at a table near the jukebox.

She had a beer in her hand and was talking to the guy intently. He had his hand on her knee. He started to get a little worried that she was serious about her previous threat.

It was when it looked like she was leaving the bar with the guy that he was sure she was serious. And he was just as serious about not letting that happen.

“Hey. What the hell are you thinking?” he said, stopping her at the door. The guy tried to say something. And he put his hand up. “Don’t fucking try it,” he said, with barely a glance in his direction. The guy backed off.

“I told you what I was thinking,” she said. “Let’s go,” he said, taking her keys, pulling her out the door and leaving the guy to stand there. Confused.

“You’re fucking pissing me off now,” he said.

“I’m taking you home and I’ll figure out how to get back. But I’m not going to sit there and watch you do this to yourself,” he said.

She was quiet as he put her in the passenger seat and started the car. She was smiling slightly.

“You think this is funny? You were making a spectacle of yourself in there. If you don’t care about that, I do,” he said.

He started to drive down the road and she took his hand. He tried to pull it back.

“Don’t,” she said quietly.

“I thought you couldn’t touch me,” he said.

“I can’t,” she said.

“Don’t you wonder about it?” she said.

“What?” he asked.

“Don’t you wonder what it would be like to fuck someone as consumed with you as I am? What it would do to me? You realize you touching my elbow drives me insane. Imagine if you touched me anywhere else?” she asked.

She still had his hand. She illegal bahis pressed it to her face.

He didn’t pull away.

He was watching the road.

She took his hand and moved into the open neckline of her shirt, sliding it under and over her breast, and he could feel her nipple hard under his hand.

“See…” she said, leaning her head back.

He pulled away.

“Stop,” he said.

“I can’t. I really can’t,” she said, taking his hand back, moving it under her shirt again. “Feel how hard my nipples are? Touch me. See what happens,” she said.

She moved closer to him in the car.

He couldn’t help it. He had to touch her. Her mouth was at his ear now. Whispering. “That’s right,” she whispered. She felt his hand move around her breast. She felt warm. Her heart was in her throat. She felt his fingers moving, searching, finding her nipple and squeezing it gently.

Her brain went white. It went white with no thoughts other than knowing his fingers were on her. Working her nipple. Nothing else was there. She felt her pussy ache, beat with it. He could feel her breathing faster on his neck, whispering things that weren’t really words. She was hot. So hot. He could feel it. She was ready. She took his hand away.

“Don’t you wonder what it sounds like when I whisper your name,” she whispered.

“I have the best dream about you trying to get your hands under my skirt. Usually I’m driving. But the dream is just you trying to do that and me pushing you away. And it drives me crazy,” she said.

She moved his hand down to her skirt. Under it. On her thigh. Higher.

“Just in case you don’t believe what you do to me. Feel it. Touch me,” she said. She left his hand on her thigh for him to do what he wanted. He knew he should pull away. But feeling her arm around his neck. Her other hand squeezing his leg.

Feeling her breathing against him. He had to find her. Feel her. He moved his hand, his fingers further along her thigh, up, pushing them between her legs. Finding her pussy, because of course she wasn’t wearing anything under her skirt.

And when he found her, he almost drove off the side of the road. She was so hot, and so drenched and dripping wet. He couldn’t believe how wet she was.

“That’s it….you see now,” she whispered.

And he did. He felt it. She licked his lips and he hit the gas. If he didn’t get there soon he was going to have to pull over.

But his fingers didn’t stop. She sighed in his ear as he opened her, softly, feeling her warm and wet, and she moved back now toward her own side of the car, leaning back in the seat, moving her knees up, opening her legs more to him. And it was so good.

He didn’t do much. Just traced her with his fingers. Finding her clit and teasing it. Her sighs got a little louder. Her eyes were closed. She bit her lower lip.

Her hand held onto his leg still and he could feel her squeezing it. And then she felt him stop touching her. And stop the car.

“We’re here,” he said. She hadn’t even realized what was going on outside the car. He got out of the driver’s side and opened her door for her to get out the passenger side. Her knees were weak. She couldn’t look at him. She was too afraid of what was going to happen next.”I should go,” he said.

Which was exactly what she was afraid he was going to say. And she fell to her knees, wrapping her arms around his.”No. Please,” she said.

He pulled her off the ground and back up to him. He lifted her face to his. “I said I should. I didn’t say I was going to,” he said, with a faint smile. She touched his face and his arms moved to her lower back. This was it. As she knew he was about to kiss her, she reminded herself to commit every second to memory. Every second. Every sense. Her heart pounded so loudly she was sure he could hear it. The color of the evening sky behind him. What his eyes looked like. The sounds of the last remaining birds going to sleep.

But especially his eyes. The look in his eyes, just before he leaned toward her, pulling her to him to meet her mouth with his.

She closed her eyes. Her hands were shaking as they met behind his neck. He softly kissed her mouth as her hands moved into his hair. He leaned her back against the car, kissing her harder, and her mouth opened slightly as her tongue sought his.

Her hands tightened on his shoulders as his tongue moved strong and deep into her mouth, her tongue twisting with his, and the kiss became more tongue, less lips. His hands dug into her back, and he unconsciously bent her back more, and she was holding onto his neck tightly, moving her mouth away and back, finding illegal bahis siteleri his tongue again, and again.

She was completely out of breath. She felt he was too. She stopped. Pulled away. Covered her face with her hands. He pulled them away and took her hand and led her into the house and upstairs. They sat on her bed.

“So I’m here,” he said.

“What do you really want?” he said.

“What do I want?” she said.

“I want these,” she put her hands over his. “Everywhere,” she said.She touched his mouth, leaned in to open it with her tongue.”I want this,” she whispered into his mouth.”Everywhere,” she said.

She ran her hands up his legs until she found him hard, through his pants, and held him there.

“I want this…” she said.”Careful on that one…,” he said, smiling.

She laughed.She moved her hands to the buttons of his white shirt.”I love this shirt,” she said.

“I know you do,” he said.He pulled her shirt over her head. He stood up and started to unbutton his shirt. She pulled off her skirt and watched him. It was dark but the room was half lit with moonlight.

He pulled his shirt off.

“Come here,” he said.

There was a mirror on the wall. He pulled her to him and turned her to the mirror, pulling her in front of him. He held the shirt behind her, so she could put it on, and she did, one arm at a time, watching in the mirror. She closed her eyes feeling it on her naked skin, pulling it around her.”You want to wear this,” he said.”How did you know that?” she said.

“I know,” he said.

He wrapped his arms around her from behind, looking at her in the mirror.”It looks good on you,” he said. He moved his hands over her, finding her nipples through the shirt, and she sucked in her breath quickly.

“It looks better on you,” she said.”Well, of course,” he said. She laughed.He turned her around and moved her to the bed, kissing her. Feeling her body under the shirt, over the shirt, and wearing it only added to her brain overload.Lying on the bed now, she moved her hand to the button of his pants as his tongue moved in her mouth and his fingers teased her everywhere.He put his hand on hers. “Wait,” he said.”You are sure you want to do this?” he said.”Are you fucking kidding me?” she said.

“Well, then you have to do something for me first,” he said.”Anything you want,” she said.

“You have to promise to never ask me for mercy again,” he said. His voice was serious.

“Because this..” he said, and leaned in to not kiss her, but actually fuck her mouth with his tongue, pushing it into her mouth as far as he could, and she could not breathe. He pulled away and she tried to get it back. But he pushed her back.

“This is NOT mercy,” he said.”And this….,” he said, moving his mouth down to take her nipple, through the shirt, in his teeth, holding it there, sucking it through his shirt that she lusted after him in, his tongue teasing her nipple through the shirt, rough and wet, and her eyes fluttered. She tightened her fingers in his hair. He pulled away.

“This is not mercy,” he said.

“And this…,” he whispered, finding her pussy with his fingers, moving to finally open her, sliding one, then two fingers inside her, finding her hot, finding her wet, and she arched her back on the bed, moaning, as he moved, sliding them in and out of her, seeing she was about to come.

“Not yet,” he said, pulling his hand away.”That is not mercy,” he said.”And lastly, this…” he took her hand and moved it to feel his hard dick again.

“Is pretty much the opposite of mercy. I’m warning you,” he said.She was lost in it now, lost in what he was saying, what she was feeling, her orgasm was on the edge, blistering in her middle, starting to ripple out and she had no way to stop it.”Look at me,” he said.He took her face in his hand, pulling almost roughly to look at him. He knew she was struggling to focus. It was hot. He was about to let her go.

“Look at me. Listen to me. Are you listening?” he asked. He kissed her another hot, wet time.Her eyes were glazed over but she nodded at him.

“Don’t ask me for mercy,” he said, kissing her again.”Mercy is fucking not me,” he said. She reached for the button of his pants again and this time he let her. He was ready. She got them off and found his dick with her hands.

“I want this,” she whispered.

“Oh yeah?” he said. He was so hard.She turned him onto his back and deliriously worked her mouth down his body, finding his nipples with her tongue, working his mouth with hers, moving it down to swallow him without hesitation into her mouth.

She moaned with the feeling canlı bahis siteleri of him down her throat. Her tongue worked him, sucking him, licking his balls, stroking him with her hand up and down, unable to get enough, sucking him, swallowing him, and he closed his eyes. It felt so fucking good.

Her face was amazing to watch, her eyes closed, her breathing quickly when she pulled off to lick him everywhere, swallowing him again, she might have been enjoying it more than he was. And that was a lot. She was getting him close. But he knew he hadn’t made her come yet. He wanted to. She’d been aching for that now for a while. Longer than tonight. Longer than a week. Longer than was probably fair, when he really thought about it. But he could fix that.Fix it now.He pulled her off and turned her on her back, although she fought him on it.He held her hands over her head.

“Remember in the car when you asked if I wanted to hear you say my name,” he asked.She nodded. She couldn’t talk.”I do,” he said, tracing his hand down her belly, to find her pussy again with his fingers, keeping his lips close to hers, kissing her gently, opening her, and quickly, sliding his fingers deeply inside her and swallowing and tasting her sighs into his mouth.

Her nonsense words again.

Her soft moans.”Say my name,” he whispered. She was trying to find words now, as he slid his fingers into her, so wet, so hot, faster, and she could feel his hard dick against her, she was getting wetter, and she was almost there.”Harder, oh yeah, faster, almost,” she whispered.”Say it,” he said.”Oh…,” she said.

Then she said his name in such a way. Such a way that he knew she had dozens of times before. Just like that, and he went as hard, as fast as he could without hurting her, and she came. She came so hard that she almost screamed. Almost. She dug her nails into his back and he knew she cut into it but he wanted her to.

And once she started, she couldn’t stop. It was amazing to watch. So easy. So hot. Over and over. He pulled his fingers out and moved his body down between her legs and lifted her wet pussy to his mouth, burying his tongue in it. He wanted to really send her over the edge.And he did. She couldn’t think. She couldn’t breathe.

Her voice was going from sighing, moaning, trying to catch her breath. She couldn’t take it. His tongue moved into her pussy, and he slid his fingers into her again as his tongue worked her clit and then she found her scream.”Stop,” she said.”I can’t take anymore, stop,” she said, pulling him up to kiss her again. “You’re not asking me for mercy…are you?” he said, smiling.

“No! no…I just ..I can’t,” she tried to make sense but couldn’t find more than four words to come up with.”Good,” he said, and before she had time to get her head together, he lifted her hips, teased her wet pussy with his hard dick for only a second before sliding it into her, as hard and as far as it could go.

Her breath was gone. Taken away. Her back arched. Her body shook. Her eyes rolled. Her hands were in tight fists. She was somewhere else. For that moment.

And he did not let up. He fucked her slowly at first, but he found he couldn’t keep that pace. It was too hot. Too wet. Too tight. Too good. He had to go faster. Holding onto her hips, he rocked her body on the bed, harder. Faster.She watched him now, her eyes were open. She found her way back to logical thought so she could feel it, know it. Know he was fucking her.

“Oh yeah. That’s what I want,” she whispered. “More. Harder. Faster. Hurt me,” she whispered.And he did all of those things. Harder. Fucking her faster.He moved off the bed, and pulled her hips to the edge, giving him a better edge to fuck her faster, harder and he watched her eyes, rolling, biting her lip, the tension was building, building.

She was there. He saw it. “Come on,” he said. And he said her name.

“Don’t!” she said.She couldn’t take it. He stopped for a second.

“What’s wrong? You don’t like when I say your name?” he said. And he said it again.”You don’t like when I say your name when I’m fucking you?” he said.

“Oh god,” she said.That was it — the tension had hit the high and was rolling down rapidly toward the break.

He fucked her again, and she thrashed on the bed, turning, running her hands in her hair, whispering, moaning, saying his name and he knew that was it for him, and the last few thrusts were as hard and as fast as he could until they both came.

And the room was quiet other than her catching her breath. She sat on the edge of the bed and he moved to his knees on the floor with his head against her belly and his arms around her waist.

She looked in the mirror at the mess of crazy hair and smile that she had become and he did not want to admit how fast his heart was beating.

And he did not say the only word that came to his mind.

Mercy.

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I’m at university in Edinburgh, nearly four hundred miles from my home town, just north of London. I’ve been here two years — I’m 20 now — and although I love this bustling city I still miss my old home. I try to get back there as often as possible, but it’s not easy. Last time I went back though, I had an amazing experience.

I’d arranged a lads’ night out with some of my mates and my kid brother, Nick. He’s 18 and currently studying for his A Levels at the same school I attended, hoping to get good enough grades to join me at Edinburgh. Ours is a small town, with not many nightspots, but after starting off in a pub we headed for a new club that I hadn’t visited before. Even before we descended the stairs to the basement entrance we could hear the throb of dance music. As the bouncers opened the door to let us in the volume became almost deafening, and we were hit by a blast wave of heat and the glare of flashing lights.

Although it was quite early the place was packed like a sardine can, and we shouldered our way to the bar. One of the other lads started to get in a round of Budweiser, while I surveyed the dance floor. It was heaving with gyrating bodies, but one in particular caught my eye. She was a little blonde, right in the centre of the crowd, swaying and waving her arms wildly above her head. She wore a gold lamé boob tube which glittered with the reflected light from the overhead mirror ball, as did a little jewel nestling in her belly button. As she whipped her head around, her hair hid her face, but I was sure there was something familiar about her. I wondered if I knew her from school, but she didn’t ring any bells as a former fellow pupil.

A couple of our group noticed my interest in her, and started nudging me and joking about me trying to pull her. I should say at this stage that I haven’t had a steady girlfriend for some time. It’s not that I don’t like women, or vice versa — I’m six feet tall, slim but well-toned with light brown hair and always had plenty of girls interested in me at school. It’s more that I intend to return home when I finish in Edinburgh, so there’s not much point in starting a serious relationship with another student who could be from anywhere, and might not be keen on settling in a provincial little London dormitory town. The girl on the dance floor, and the fact that I couldn’t quite place her, intrigued me. It never crossed my mind to seriously try chatting her up, I just wanted to know who she was. She didn’t seem to be dancing with anyone in particular so, giving the lads a grin and a wink, I started to make my way through the throng of dancers towards her. As I reached her, her twirling movements brought her round to face me — and I got the shock of my life! I knew her from school all right — but not as a student.

She was my old teacher, Miss Taylor. Well, I say old, she’s actually only about 10 years older than me. I’d been in her form at school, and she had also bullied me through to the ‘A’ grades in my Modern History and Political Science A Levels which had clinched my placed at Edinburgh University. I’d had an odd sort of relationship with her — I respected her immensely as a teacher, but there were times when she’d been a real bitch to me, slagging my work and making me re-write entire essays and projects. She grinned in surprise at seeing me, and shouted something. The music was too loud for me to hear her voice, but I could read her lips saying, “Well, Barry Robson — hello.” I nodded in reply, still amazed to see her there. She started to say something else, shook her head laughing then pointed to the bar with one hand, miming drinking from a glass with the other. I nodded and she took my elbow and steered me through the mass of dancers to a relatively quiet corner, at the other end of the bar from my mates.

She pulled herself up onto a bar stool, and I sat opposite her. I reached for my wallet, but Miss Taylor stopped me. “No, you hard-up students need to save your money, I’ll get them.” While she tried to attract a barman’s attention I took in her appearance, which couldn’t have been more different to the prim and proper teacher I’d known. Her corn blonde hair, worn in a bun at school, hung loose on her skinny bare shoulders, her fringe plastered by sweat to her forehead. She had twinkling green eyes, a slim nose just a fraction too long, a wide mouth and a pointed, dimpled chin. Her blonde hair, her elfin looks, her size (she’s only about five-two, and petite) and her toned down Cockney accent could lead a person not to take her seriously — until she’s torn them off a strip, and they emerge from the wreckage feeling as if they’ve just been mugged by Mike Tyson’s bigger, meaner brother. That evening her eyelids were painted silver, her lips cherry red, matching her finger and toenails, and she had glitter on her flushed cheeks. The boob tube emphasised a decent pair of tits that I’d never really noticed in my school days, her nipples forming little hillocks in the material. It stopped well short of her navel and tuzla escort that sapphire coloured stone I’d seen before, set in a gold mounting. In addition she was wearing a pair of white shorts that barely extended onto her thighs, showing off short, shapely legs, and strappy sandals. As the drinks arrived she took a long pull at a bottle of Bacardi Breezer — clearly not her first drink of the night — and grinned at me again, shaking her head. “Well, well, well — Barry Robson. Of all the discos, in all the towns, in all the world…” She giggled at her Casablanca reference.

I took a swig of my Bud and, raising the bottle to her, said, “Thanks for this Miss. And can I just say, you look amazing.”

She giggled again. “Yeah, I do, don’t I. And you’re not at school anymore, call me Wendy.”

I glanced at the raucous scene around us and, leaning closer to be heard, said, “I wouldn’t have expected to see you in a place like this.”

She laughed and said, “Ooh, hold the front page — teacher has a life outside school. Well, it was either this or mark the fourth year mid-term History papers. Actually, there are a few of us here tonight — Rod Lacey, Susie Gordon…”

As if to confirm her words, at that moment a familiar figure loomed through the crowd — my old Geography teacher, Mr Anderson. I greeted him politely and he half-nodded, apparently not remembering me. Placing a hand on Wendy’s shoulder, he squeezed it gently and asked, “Are you coming over to join us?”

Without taking her eyes from my face she vaguely waved a hand at him and said, “Yeah, I’ll be there in a minute.”

Mr Anderson turned away, glancing sharply at me. I said, “Sorry Miss, er, Wendy, are you two…?”

She stared at me for a moment as if I was mad. Then she said, “Me and Steve Anderson?”, and threw back her head, roaring with laughter, exposing her slim white throat. Gasping to regain her breath she flapped her hand in front of her face and said, “Whew dear, too much excitement for an old lady like me. Steve’s a poof, I thought you lot had sussed that one out years ago.” There had been gossip about his sexuality when I was at school, but I’d always dismissed it as the usual malicious kids’ mischief making. Then Wendy added, “He and Ian Berry have been together since your time.”

The revelation about our swaggering, bearded sports master surprised me. I’d represented the school at swimming and various other sports, and thought I knew him pretty well. I laughed, and said, “Never! Mr Berry’s gay?”

Wendy nodded vigorously, pleased at my reaction. “Don’t tell anyone though. He’s a bit sensitive about it, and he’d hang, draw and quarter me if he thought I’d outed him.” We chatted for a bit longer about life in school. As I started into my second Bud I confessed, “There were times when I used to hate you.”

She nodded with a laugh. “Yeah, I was pretty mean to you sometimes. Got you through you’re A Levels though, didn’t I? You learn early in teaching how to recognise which kids need the stick and which ones need the carrot. You were always a stick kind of lad. You were like me at the same age — very bright, but basically lazy. I knew if I could get you through your exams you’d thrive at uni, and when I was rotten to you it was only to get your best out of you. How are you enjoying Edinburgh, anyway?”

“I love it.,” I replied. “But I still miss this old dump. If you’re ever up in Edinburgh give me a shout, I’ll take you on the Rose Street pub crawl.”

She chuckled, and said, “Mmm, sounds like a plan.” As she spoke her hand slipped onto my knee. Of course, it could just have been a friendly gesture from a teacher to a successful former student; but my cock didn’t think so, as it started to take a definite interest in the world around it. Suddenly I was lost for words. I shuffled forward slightly on my stool, giving her a firmer contact with my knee. She didn’t remove her hand, just smiled blearily into my face.

Then I felt a hand on my shoulder. I whipped round, half expecting to see another teacher. Instead it was Nick, my brother. He seemed a little peeved that I’d abandoned him and the others. He said, “Hello Miss Taylor. We’re moving on Baz; you with us?”

I pondered my options for a moment. Go off with a bunch of other young blokes on a pub crawl and get completely rat-arsed on beer, probably ending the evening by puking up a semi-digested kebab in some dark alleyway; or see where things went with the attractive, half-dressed, mature blonde whose hand was resting on my knee — one of whose fingers, in fact, was playfully stroking the inside of my knee. It wasn’t a difficult choice. I told my brother, “Nah, I’ll hang on here for a bit. Leave your mobile on and I’ll catch up with you later.” Nick glanced at Wendy, gave me a sceptical sot of ‘yeah, right’ look and moved off.

Wendy sniggered. “Oh dear, that’s my reputation trashed at school on Monday. ‘Here, I saw Miss Taylor in Romano’s on Friday night, looking like a right slapper.'” Then she added, “Look Barry, do you tuzla escort bayan fancy going somewhere a bit quieter? I’m getting hoarse trying to compete with this music. I’ll just go and grab my coat.” Before I could respond she disappeared into the mass of bodies. She was back a couple of minutes later and, taking my hand to avoid us getting separated, led me to the exit and back up to the street. I couldn’t help noticing that, as we walked the few minutes to a quiet pub in a neighbouring street, Wendy didn’t release her grip on my hand.

I got our drinks in and we settled at a corner table, side-by-side. I said, “You know, if it hadn’t been for you I’d probably never have got to any university, never mind Edinburgh. I know it might not have seemed like it at the time, but I’ve always been grateful to you for helping me through my A Levels. After I got my results I sent you a note thanking you.”

Wendy smiled. “I know, I’ve still got it. She held her white wine spritzer up to the light, watching a rainbow dance in it. “It was quite ironic that you didn’t like me much, ‘cos I really quite fancied you.” I stared at her open-mouthed. She grinned at my reaction. “What, you think it’s only male teachers who get hot under the collar surrounded by loads of attractive teenagers just reaching the age when they become sexually interesting? ‘Course, I wasn’t as bad as Helen Patterson. It’s a shame she wasn’t at Romano’s tonight; she’d have loved to see you again, she really had the hots for you. She and I used to compare notes on you. The main reason Helen helped out with the swim team was to get the chance to see you in your little Speedo trunks.”

Miss Patterson, an art teacher, had always been very helpful to me in getting my technique right in the pool, but it had never occurred to me for a moment that she had an ulterior motive. And as for Wendy Taylor — even when she’d put her hand on my knee earlier in the evening I’d assumed she was just flirting with me because she was a bit pissed. I decided to go for a bit of experimental flirting of my own, to try and determine whether she was just amusing herself with me, or whether I really was on for something. I slipped my arm around Wendy’s shoulders, and, leaning closer, murmured, “So this stick and carrot thing of yours. Which do you prefer?”

She giggled and moved her face to within inches of mine. My prick started to rear up as I felt her warm breath on my face. She half-whispered, “Well, a bit of S and M can be fun now and then. But what I really like is a nice, big, juicy carrot.” My stomach did a somersault as I felt her hand rub across my burgeoning erection. “Mmm,” she breathed, “feels like you’ve got a prize-winning specimen there.” She leant in and kissed me, an arm slinking round my neck, her small tongue slipping between my lips. It tasted oh so sweet, and I circled it with my own. Finishing her wine, she took my hand again and said, “Come on, let’s go back to my place.”

Wendy lived a couple of miles out of the town centre, so we hailed a taxi. I felt a little intimidated by the situation, or rather by the person it was developing with. I told myself, several times, this isn’t the school teacher you admired, hated and feared in equal measures a couple of years ago; this is a horny, sexy woman who’s out for a night of fun, and has decided she’s going to pull you — just sit back and enjoy the ride. As she draped her leg over mine and started kissing me in the taxi, the palm of her hand rubbing my groin again, I did have another concern though. Disentangling my mouth from hers, I mumbled, “Look, Wendy, I’m not sure about this. I mean, you’ve had quite a lot to drink. I wouldn’t want you to wake up tomorrow and feel like you’d made some horrendous mistake while you were under the influence.”

She sat back and stared at me for a moment. Then she took my face between her palms, locked her eyes on mine, and said, slowly and clearly, “I’m not as drunk as you seem to think I am Barry, I’m just having a good time. Trust me, I was getting sloshed when you were still playing with Action Man dolls. I’m as horny as fuck, and if it hadn’t been you tonight it would still have been someone. As it is, I’m glad it’s you because I fancied you two years ago, and now I’m actually going to get the chance to screw you. If you want to. Helen’ll be so jealous!” Feeling reassured, and a bit flattered by her words, I answered her last comment by resuming our kiss, my hand dropping to the velvety warmth of her thigh just below her shorts, as she chuckled happily into my mouth.

When we got out of the taxi Wendy led me up the path of a small semi-detached house and unlocked the door. The moment we got inside she thrust me against the wall of the hallway and we got into some heavy-duty petting. I pulled her coat down her arms and she shrugged it off. One of the best things about a boob tube is that they roll down so easily. Within seconds I had both her small breasts in my hands, the nipples rock hard against my palms. As she began to unzip my escort tuzla fly I still couldn’t quite get the thought out of my mind, “Bloody hell, I’m actually going to fuck Miss Taylor.”

I lowered my mouth to one of her breasts and licked a nipple. She gave a little gasp of pleasure then started to push me back. “Oh God, no, not here, let’s get upstairs.” She pulled me into the lounge — and we nearly walked straight into another woman! She was in her mid-thirties, wearing a dressing gown and holding a steaming mug of what smelt like cocoa. Wendy gave a little embarrassed laugh, and said, “Oh hi Sylv, I wasn’t sure you’d be in tonight. Barry, this is my house-mate, Sylvia. Sylv, this is, um, an old friend of mine.”

Sylvia glanced at Wendy’s exposed boobs, grinned at me and said good-naturedly, “Not that old. Are you resorting to cradle snatching these days, Wend?”

Wendy laughed and said, “Cuh, you can talk. Sylvia’s a lecturer at the local college. Or should I say a lecher. You should see some of the pretty young things she brings home, of both sexes.”

Sylvia pretended a look of hurt innocence for a moment, then laughed herself. “Yeah, well, I haven’t got any with me tonight, so just try and keep it down, otherwise I might come in and join you.”

Wendy hugged me to her and replied, “Hands off! You get your own shags, this one’s mine.” With that she took my arm and half-led, half-dragged me to a corner staircase which led to the upper floor.

In her bedroom she stripped naked in seconds and leapt onto her double bed. It had a brass bedstead, modern but designed to look antique. As I removed my own clothes I took in her sweet little body. Her skin was quite pale, her breasts small and round, crowned with perky pink nipples. On her left hip was a blue-black tattoo of a scorpion. The jewelled piercing still twinkled in her belly button, and below that her pubis was completely shaved of hair. Seeing where I was looking she eased her thighs apart, and I saw puffy pink lips pouting at me, just a hint of moisture between them. As I dropped my underpants her eyes fell to my 7-inch uncut erection and she giggled, murmuring, “Wow, I owe Helen five quid.” I had no idea what their bet had been, but Wendy didn’t seem too disappointed at having lost it.

I joined her on the bed, and we took each other in our arms, her boobs pressing into my chest, my cock rubbing against her thighs. We’d been kissing for a few seconds when she broke away and, turning her back to me, said, “Hang on a minute.” She giggled as I stroked a hand across her bum, then took something out of a drawer beside her bed. When she turned back I saw it was not one but two pairs of fur handcuffs, with a tiger stripe pattern, and some silk scarves. Thinking back to Wendy’s earlier S and M comment, I wasn’t sure how I felt about being restrained, but then she cuffed one of her own wrists to the bedstead. Then she held the other things towards me. “Here, do my other arm, then tie my ankles with the scarves.”

A bit uncertainly I squatted over her to secure her other wrist. As I did so she reached up her head and took my cock into her mouth with an exaggerated moan of pleasure. Having cuffed her I shuffled further forward to give her better access to me. She licked her tongue up and down my shaft, then took my balls into her mouth before returning to my cock, sliding tongue and lips up and down it, gradually increasing her speed until, gripping the brass bedstead tightly in my hands, I had a shuddering climax in her mouth. She muttered “C’mere.” When I bent my head to her she gave me a snowball kiss, smearing my spunk around the inside of my mouth with her tongue.

I tied her ankles with the soft scarves, while she whispered, “Make sure you got the knots good and tight — ooh, that’s it, lover.” I still couldn’t quite believe what was happening, and who with. Within moments, my former schoolteacher was spread-eagled on her own bed, completely at my mercy. I stroked a finger along her bare slit, and her hips twitched and she gasped. “Oh fuck, yes, make me cum you randy little sod.” I lay beside her and eased two fingers into her pussy, drawing a sigh from her. As I kissed her I started swirling my fingers around and flicked my thumb across her clit, causing her to groan in my mouth. She must have been really turned on, as my fingers felt as if they were burning and within seconds she was writhing on my hand and panting into my mouth, her small pussy tightening around my probing fingers. Then she sank back into the bed, pulled away from my mouth and whispered, “Thanks Barry, I really fucking needed that.”

I started to kiss and lick her tits, then something caught my eye — a pink ostrich feather in a vase on a dressing table at the foot of Wendy’s bed. She began to ask what I was doing when I stood, but then saw me pick up the feather and started to giggle nervously. “Oh no, you can’t tickle me, not when I can’t defend myself. You can’t…Barryyyyyyy!” She trailed off into wild, shrieking laughter as I ran the feather lightly across her body, concentrating on her armpits, the soles of her feet and the area around hr pussy. She squirmed about, tears of laughter rolling down her cheeks as I tortured her with the feather.

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

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Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

DER TYP MIT DEM MEGA-DEALDies ist wieder eine Geschichte von zwei Autoren: Der erste Teil ist von meiner Chatpartnerin Johanna, der zweite Teil von mir. Ich habe darin versucht, die Geschichte aus der Sicht der Protagonistin weiterzuspinnen, was mir als Mann recht schwer gefallen ist. Besonders deshalb: Feedback gern gesehen!Teil1Es ist ein sehr heißer Tag, ich bin zuhause und warte auf meinen Ehemann. Er hat mir ausrichten lassen, dass er einen eigenartigen Typen getroffen hat, welcher ihm einen ganz besonderen, einen sehr lukrativen Deal anzubieten hat, dass dieser Typ meinem Mann doch etwas suspekt ist und er ihn nicht einordnen kann, wie seriös oder wie zwielichtig der Typ ist. Da wäre es ihm wichtig, wenn ich dabei sein könnte.So bin ich nun aus meinem Büro nach Hause gefahren. Ich bin eigentlich gerade am Vorbereiten einer neuen sehr weiblichen und erotischen Business-Kollektion und trage selbst eine solche Garderobe zur Probe wie “alltagstauglich” sie dann doch ist. Ich trage dazu schwarze, elegante, italienische Pumps, mit einem sehr schlanken, spitzen Stiletto-Absatz von 13 cm und das schwarze Obermaterial ist ein elegant schwarz schimmerndes Satin-Material, dazu einen engen Business-Rock, der wie ein Minirock mit elegantem Beinschlitz, fast wie ein Wickelrock geschnitten ist, so dass dieser beim Gehen, beim Stehen und beim Sitzen eine sehr elegante weibliche Figur betont und doch zugleich mit dem Beinschlitz die nötige Beinfreiheit beim Gehen und Sitzen ermöglicht. Heute trage ich dazu eine sehr tief ausgeschnittene Wickelbluse, sie ist in einem zarten a****l-Print, auch in Wickeloptik, so dass meine natürlichen, festen, jungen, prallen, federnden Möpse in dem hochpushenden BH deutlich als zwei Sahneglocken heraus gedrückt werden. Dazu trage ich eine teure Perlenkette, etwas Goldschmuck und darunter habe ich einen passenden Hüftgürtel gewählt, der meine zarten naturfarbenen Nylons aus hauchzartem Material, das elegant an meinen Beinen schimmert und das jede Berührung wie eine aphrodisierende Droge unglaublich verstärkt. Ebenso sind pendik escort die Stoffe, die ich gewählt habe, mit dieser speziellen Technik gewebt, die bei jeder Berührung verstärkt erotische Reize direkt auf die Haut sendet. So bin ich zu Hause angekommen, doch weder mein Mann noch der fremde Herr ist da. Ich stehe auf dem Balkon und rauche eine Zigarette, als ich plötzlich etwas im Raum hinter mir höre, ich drehe mich um und da steht ein fremder Mann. «Was tun sie hier?» frage ich entrüstet. «Ich habe einen Termin» sagt er ohne zu erklären, wie er in die Wohnung gekommen ist. Ich spüre diese dunkle, diese gefährliche Ausstrahlung, die keinerlei Widerspruch duldet, ich zucke die Achseln, ich bemerke, wie er mich nicht nur anschaut, wie er mich taxiert, wie ein Jäger, der seine Beute inspiziert. Ich versuche die Höflichkeitsformen zu bewahren und biete ihm einen Kaffee an, sehr gerne sagt er. Ich bereite den Kaffee an unserer offen Küchenbar zu. Als ich die beiden Tassen eingeschenkt habe, schaut er mich an, greift mir, ohne einen Anschein von Scham oder Unsicherheit einfach in den Nacken, in die Haare, er schaut mich dabei genau an. Er streichelt meine Haare, sagt nichts, als ich etwas sagen will, als ich mich weg drehen will, macht er «scchhhhht» und greift mir kurz aber hart hinten in den Nacken. Ich bin wie erstarrt. Dann beugt er sich zu mir und riecht an mir. Er schaut mir auf meine üppigen Brüste in den Ausschnitt. Und dann fast flüstert er mir ins Ohr: «Wollen sie sich nicht ein bisschen frisch machen. Ich bringe den Kaffee nach oben, auf ihrer kleinen Balkonveranda ist es sicher gemütlicher als hier. Nein es macht mir keine Umstände. Gehen sie nur. Ich finde schon den Weg. Ich finde immer mein Ziel. Und wenn ich es gefunden habe, dann erreiche ich auch das was ich will.» Ich bin völlig verdattert. Und wie fremd gesteuert gehe ich auf die Toilette im Untergeschoss, als ich an der Tür stehe, drehe ich mich zu dem fremden, alten, gefährlichen Mann um. Aus seiner Handbewegung erscheint es mir, als habe er etwas in die Tassen getan. escort pendik « Johanna, du siehst schon überall Gespenster, du solltest mal etwas abstinenter auf dieser Sexplattform sein» dann komme ich zurück. Er steht an der Treppe, ich schaue ihn an. Er lächelt. «Bitte nach ihnen, es gibt Höflichkeiten die ein Mann zu genießen weiß» Ich stöckle nach oben, der Minirock rutscht höher und höher, der Beinschlitz öffnet sich und mir wird klar, wie deutlich er meine langen wohlgeformten Beine sehen kann, die Oberschenkel, die Ansätze meiner Strapsstrümpfe meine runden weißen Pobacken die unter dem Beinschlitz aufblitzen und meinen hauchdünnen durchsichtigen Spitzenslip.Als ich oben bin, kommt er nach. er geht an mir vorbei, geht in mein Schlafzimmer und setzt sich kurz auf das Bett, als würde er es wie in Besitz nehmen, dann steht er auf und geht auf den Balkon, wo er die Tassen eingedeckt hat. Und zwar so dass wir beide uns nebeneinander auf die Couch setzten müssen. Er wartet bis ich sitze, er schaut mich an, gibt mir die eine Tasse demonstrativ in meine Hand. Und als ich den ersten Schluck getrunken habe, ist es als würde etwas in meinem Kopf explodieren und sich in heißen, erotischen, glühenden Lustwellen sofort durch meinen Körper ergießen. Er grinst mich an, greift mir wieder in den Nacken, streichelt meine Haare, berührt mich auf dem Oberschenkel und er beugt sich zu mir so weit, dass sein Mund exakt vor meinem schwer atmenden Mund ist. Ich bin nicht mehr ich selbst. Ich beuge mich zu ihm und beginne ihn zu küssen, während er an mir herumzufummeln beginnt, die Brüste, die Innenseiten meiner Oberschenkel. Es ist, als hätte er zehn Hände und jede Hand, jeder Finger, jede Fingerkuppe weiß, genau wo ich meine erogenen Zonen habe.Teil2Mein Körper entwickelt eine geradezu überdimensionale Empfindlichkeit auf Berührungen, ich fühle jede Berührung hundertfach. meine Haut fängt an zu vibrieren, jede Pore öffnet sich und nimmt aus der Luft aphrodisierende Stoffe auf, um sie zu meiner Möse weiter zu leiten. Gleichzeitig fange ich selbst an, fängt pendik escort bayan mein Körper an Feuchtigkeit zu produzieren, es ist jener Saft, der schon öfter als mein charakteristischer Liebesgeruch beschrieben worden ist. Er kommt jetzt aus der Haut genauso wie in einem halbflüssigen Schleim aus meiner Möse. Mein gegenüber grinst erfolgssicher. Er fängt an mich zu küssen, er hält mich fest wie in einem Schraubstock, ich kann mich kein bisschen entziehen. Er küsst meinen Hals, die Nischen meiner Schlüsselbeine, er leckt mir die Achselhöhlen aus, küsst sich den Rücken runter und wieder hoch, er beißt mir in den Nacken, so wie es die Löwen bei den Löwinnen im Geschlechterkampf tun. Er nimmt meine Ohren erst ganz in den Mund, um dann mit der Zungenspitze jeden Millimeter der Ohrmuschel einzeln zu erkunden, er nimmt die Ohrläppchen erst zwischen die Lippen, dann beißt er hinein in das Ohrläppchen und zieht mit den Zähnen daran. Egal, was er macht, alles steigert meine sexuelle Empfindlichkeit und ich taumele von einem Orgasmus in den nächsten. Der neue Stoff meine Kollektion bewirkt in dem Zusammenspiel mit der Körperfeuchtigkeit eine etwa zehnfache Steigerung der Trockenwirkung. Ich zittere, ich winde mich, ich rudere mit den armen Halt suchend umher, meine Beine öffnen sich und schließen sich im Zehn-Sekundentakt, mein ganzer Körper wird glibschig und der Stoff darum zu einer feuchten stimulierenden Zweithaut, ich wölbe mich mit meinem ganzen Körper seinen Berührungen entgegen und spüre dass ich kurz vor dem Kollaps stehe.„Schaahatz, Johanna, bist du da?“ Die stimme meines Ehemannes. Ich öffne die Augen und blicke um mich. Ich sitze in dem Lesesessel meine Zimmers, kein Mann weit und breit. Ein Blick durch die geöffnete Balkontür verrät mir, dass da auch keine Kaffeetassen stehen. Mein Sissy kommt herein mit einem älteren, nein eher richtig alten Mann, bierbäuchig, langweilig bieder angezogen, mit kürzerem Bart und ungeputzten Schuhen. Sissy sagt: „Ich hatte dir doch gesagt, ich bringe den Herrn mit, der mir ein spannendes und lukratives Projekt angeboten hat.Machst du uns einen Kaffee?“ Ich gehe in die Küche und eigentlich wundere ich mich nicht, dass da zwei benutzte Tassen im Abwasch stehen, ich wende mich der Kaffeemaschnine zu und bereite drei Tassen vor.

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