Ay: Ocak 2022

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

The day that Tina found out that her husband of 11 years was cheating on her had, up until that very moment, been just like every other day for the past several years. Alan’s alarm went off at 5:15 am, at which point he got showered, made himself a coffee, and left for work. He was the VP of Operations at a biotech company, and it was his dream job. His rise in the company was quick, and at just 36 years old, he was the youngest VP the company had ever had.

It wasn’t surprising to Tina. Alan was intelligent, but more importantly, was charming. He was the opposite of her in many ways. She enjoyed being home while he enjoyed going out at every chance they got. She was quiet and reserved, while he was usually the life of the party. Everyone seemed drawn to him, and she had often told him that he should have been in sales.

But despite those differences, they’d had what she thought was a great marriage. They had been unable to have children, so they had more time on their hands than most of their friends. They took advantage of their freedom and usually took a trip or two each year.

Five years ago, Tina began volunteering at the local elementary school and quickly felt she had found her calling. Eventually, she worked her way into a teacher’s assistant position and couldn’t have been happier. They were comfortable and on their way to being well off. Life had seemed good.

When her friend Amy had broken the news to her that she had seen Alan going into a motel two afternoons ago, Tina reasoned that there had to be some other explanation. Maybe it was someone in town for his company, she explained, knowing he had never in 11 years mentioned any executives traveling into town.


But Amy had more. She had been suspicious and waited in the motel parking lot for almost an hour. When Alan and the mystery woman came out, she had her phone ready and began snapping photos. She showed them to Tina.

Tina stared, trying to hold back the tears, as her heart thumped in her chest. She recognized the woman in the photos, so casually holding her husband’s hand. It was Angela, one of Alan’s employees. She had never actually met any of his colleagues. She didn’t enjoy attending work functions, and he had always seemed fine with keeping his private life separate from his work life.


But she remembered she and Alan bumping into this girl while Christmas shopping just a few weeks ago. Alan had introduced them, saying Angela was one of the four managers on his team. She was very attractive, probably in her late 20’s, and Tina had thought she seemed nice. She even said as much to Alan after they parted ways. He had smiled and said something about her being the most talented manager on his team. 


Now the tears came. Not in fits and sobs, just streaming quietly down her face, as she stood there feeling broken-hearted. Amy hugged her tightly.

“I’m so sorry, Tina,” she said, trying to comfort her friend. “I hoped it wasn’t true, and even debated whether to tell you, but I couldn’t.”

“I know,” said Tina, “It’s ok. I’m glad you told me.”


“What are you going to do?” asked Amy.


Tina was quiet, the tears still streaming down her cheeks, though starting to slow. She stepped back from their hug and shrugged her shoulders with a big sniff. 


“I don’t know. I guess I need time to think. Please don’t say anything to anyone, ok?”


“Of course,” Amy assured her.


For several days afterward, Tina did her best to act as if everything was fine. She would feel moments of pain overwhelm her, and sneak away to the bathroom to have a little cry. But Alan never seemed to notice. She thought his inattentiveness made it worse.


She thought hard about what to do about it. She felt sure she could never trust him again, no matter how much apologizing and pleading he might do when she confronted him, so she resigned herself to the fact that her marriage was over. Her pain turned into anger with every day that passed, Alan trudging to and from work so happily, thinking her a fool. 


She began to think she smelled perfume on him some days he got home, but she wasn’t certain, it was faint. His deceit made her anger turn to rage, and before long she had made up her mind: there would be a divorce, that was a given. But she wanted more than that. She wanted to hurt him as he had hurt her. Worse, she wanted to destroy him. She would figure out the financial aspect of that once she met with her lawyer. But she wanted more, and before long, she had an idea.

It would take some time and planning, and she found herself questioning whether she could even go through with it. It was so deeply out character for her, and not without risks and possible consequences. But she pressed on with the planning stage, thinking she may or may not end up having the fortitude to go through with it when the time came.


Over the years, Tina had heard Alan talk about his team of managers on occasion, as part of small talk over dinner or when he came home upset about something amasya escort one of them had done that day. But she also knew them by the photo on Alan’s desk in his home office. The picture had been taken last summer after the company baseball team had won their league championship.

Each person’s name was listed underneath the group photo, and she had easily worked out who the four managers that reported to Alan were. They all looked to be of similar age as Alan’s mistress, mid to late twenties, she guessed. If the photo were any indication, Alan’s company seemed to place a high value on good looks when hiring their employees.


“Andrew, Colton, and Jason,” she muttered to herself as she held the photo in her hand. “Ok then.” She sighed and set the photo back down.

Over the next several days, Tina sat outside the downtown office building and watched the managers leave work each day. It didn’t take long before she saw the pattern. At 5:30 pm each day, the guys trickled out of the high-rise building and walked two blocks to a bar called Pour Advice. Angela, on the other hand, left work in the opposite direction and never seemed to join the guys for their after-work routine. Tina wondered if perhaps she was married, and needed to rush home to her unwitting husband.

Tina only stuck around the bar parking lot one night for long enough to see what time they left. On that particular evening, she watched Andrew and Jason come out of the bar at 8:15 pm and hail a cab. Colton didn’t accompany them, and while she couldn’t know why, she speculated perhaps he stuck around to try to pick up a one-night stand. She thought he may be the easiest target for her plan.

By 7 pm the following Friday evening she found herself sitting in that very establishment, sipping her fourth cosmopolitan. She had arrived just before 5 pm, not wanting to risk missing Colton, but also trying to build up the courage to do what she had planned.


But now she wondered why he still hadn’t arrived. She had initially thought this would be transactional, a means to an end, and wasn’t particularly excited about the thought of having sex with this stranger. Her goal was the aftermath of said sex and the pain it may cause. But now after waiting this long, she started to feel disappointed. She thought perhaps she was more into it than she had let herself believe.

Just then she felt someone bump against her arm, almost spilling her drink. She set her glass back on the bar top and turned, feeling slightly annoyed.

“Sorry about that,” It was Colton, apologizing with a big grin on his face.

Oh my god, it’s him, she thought. She suddenly felt a wave of panic run through her. She tried to maintain her composure and nervously returned the smile. He was even better looking up close, she thought.


“No problem at all,” she said with a smile of her own.


“Can I buy you another drink to make up for it?” he asked, still smiling confidently.

“How can I say no?” she tried to sound flirtatious but wondered how it came off.

She had not flirted with anyone in 11 years, and certainly never with anyone who appeared to be almost 10 years her junior.

She glanced around, looking to see where his colleagues were, and saw them at a table not far away. It looked like they were flirting with one of the waitresses. No problem, she thought, just one of you will do the trick. She turned her attention back to Colton.

“Are you waiting for someone?” he asked.


“No, not at all. How about you? Are you here alone?” she asked.

She wondered if that sounded like a pick-up line, then figured he probably wouldn’t be offended if it did.


”Just a couple of guys from work,” he said, taking a drink of his beer. “Why don’t you come and join us?”


It struck her that maybe she hadn’t planned this out quite as well as she thought. She wasn’t sure how to respond to an invitation to have drinks with all of them.

“Sure,” she heard herself answer.

Colton paid for their drinks and led her back to the table. 


“Guys, this is…,” Colton trailed off. “Sorry, I guess I didn’t get your name.”

“It’s Tina,” she said, immediately regretting giving her real name.

“I’m Colton,” he said. “This is Jason and this is Andrew.”


They stood up and gently shook her hand, the awkward way guys do with girls. She saw them glance down and look her over, Andrew’s eyes lingering longer than the others. She had dressed in something much more risqué than she would normally wear, hoping to attract their attention and let them know she meant business. Her skirt was tight and ended just above the knees. She had undone an extra button on her white cotton blouse, to show off plenty of cleavage. Looking in the mirror before leaving the house, she admired how sexy she thought she looked. Maybe she would dress like this more often.

She sat in the chair next to Jason, across from Andrew and Colton on the other side of the table, and took another amasya escort bayan drink from her glass. The others did the same, and she wondered if she should speak up first.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you in here before,” Andrew said. 


“I’m just in town for a few days, visiting my parents for their anniversary,” Tina lied. She’d prepared a backstory ahead of time. “Thought I would get out and have some fun.”


With that comment, she tipped her head down slightly toward her drink but looked up to meet Andrew’s eyes. Maybe she was good at flirting, she thought to herself.

Andrew shifted in his seat.

“Well, we’re glad you did,” Colton said, before raising his glass in the air. “To having a good time,” he toasted, and they all raised their glasses.

Everyone took a drink, and Tina saw Colton glance in Jason’s direction, a crooked smile on his face.

As Tina took the last mouthful of her drink, she suddenly realized how drunk she felt. She didn’t drink often, and she was now on her fifth cosmopolitan. It had been years since she had drunk this much. 


She stood up to go to the ladies’ room, and fell right into Jason’s lap, knocking his drink over.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” she said, feeling embarrassed.

She tried to stand up, but Jason had his hands on her hips, holding her in place.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

Tina could feel his cock press against her ass. She turned her head and caught her breath as she came face to face with Jason. She suddenly felt a surge of excitement run through her. She, Tina the housewife and teachers aid, now about to do something so wild and out of character, it made her almost giddy.

She leaned toward Jason and gave him a kiss on his lips, holding her mouth to his for several seconds. Then she pulled away, put one hand on the table and the other on Jason’s chest, and got to her feet.


“Gotta go freshen up,” she said with her sexiest smile. “Be back soon, boys.”


She saw them look at each other as if they’d just hit the jackpot. She felt a rush from the attention she was getting from them. 


When she returned to the table, she saw a fresh drink in her place. She was pretty sure she shouldn’t have another. She needed to refocus on her plan. Maybe it wouldn’t be Colton after all. She realized she didn’t really care which one of them it was. They were all young, good-looking guys. When she had slid her panties down in the bathroom, it had been evident how turned on she was by them and the anticipation of what she had planned. She had been so wet, she actually had to wipe some of the sticky mucus from her before pulling her panties back up.


Now, sitting back down at the table, she knew she wasn’t going to be fussy about which one of them she slept with. She giggled out loud at that thought: she wasn’t planning on doing much sleeping.


“What’s so funny?” Andrew asked her, wanting in on the joke.

“Nothing. Not sure I should drink anymore though, I’m feeling pretty buzzed. Anyone want to get out of here?”

Whoever speaks up first, she thought, that’s the lucky winner. Despite her inebriated state, she felt so powerful and in control. She had them drooling over her, and soon she was going to make one of them’s night.


“Sure, sounds good!”

It was Colton who spoke up, but suddenly all three of them stood up. Andrew grabbed his coat from the back of his chair, while Jason dropped a fifty-dollar bill on the table for the drinks.

Oh shit, she thought. She hadn’t considered this. How was she going to pick one, and how was she supposed to tell the others to be on their merry way.

They bustled their way to the door, with Tina caught up in the wave of bodies. She could feel the cool air against her cheeks, as Colton flagged down a cab. He and Jason slid into the backseat with Tina between them. She caught the look of disappointment on Andrew’s face, as he climbed into the front seat next to the cab driver.


She heard him mumble something to the driver, and they pulled away. She felt a hand on her lap and looked down. Colton was sliding his hand up under her skirt as he leaned in and began to kiss her. The feel of a third hand squeezing her breast caught her off guard and she tried to glance sideways. Jason was feeling her breast through her shirt and soon put his other hand on her leg.

Tina moaned as Colton’s fingers now brushed against her pussy. Jesus, this is crazy, she thought. What am I doing? Her heart was racing.

The taxi came to a stop. As Colton and Jason each opened their doors, Tina could see they were in front of a brownstone apartment. She slid out of the car, grabbing her purse before closing the door behind her. Andrew finished settling up with the cab driver and closed his door.

The four of them walked up the few steps to the front door. Colton was helping steady Tina with his arm around her waist. Jason turned the key in the lock and they spilled inside.

“Who wants escort amasya a nightcap?” Jason asked, leading them into the living room.

Tina looked around the room. It was a beautiful apartment, decorated nicely, not like the bachelor pad she had expected. There was a large sofa in the middle of the room, facing a flat-screen TV on the wall. There were two matching armless chairs between the TV and the sofa but to either side. 


She felt Colton pull her close and began kissing her again. A minute later, she heard soft music fill the air. Her mind was racing, as she tried to reevaluate her plan. She realized she had not considered all possible scenarios. How was she going to manage to get just one of them to the bedroom?

The realization that she was drunk and in a house with three men she didn’t know sent a wave of panic through her. My god, what am I doing, she thought once more. She tried to remember what led to all of this, and immediately the pictures of Alan and Angela leaving the motel came to mind. How long had it been going on? She thought of the handful of times she and Alan had had sex since she found out, and wondered if he had fucked his mistress before coming home and climbing on top of her.


The anger crept through her thoughts and she wrapped her arms around Colton, kissing him harder. Fuck it, she thought. I’ve come this far, I’m going to see this through. Tina felt a pair of hands slide up her thighs, and under her skirt. She knew they weren’t Colton’s hands, as those were on her hips. Whosever they were, they grabbed the sides of her panties and pulled them down to her ankles. She lifted one foot out, before kicking them away with her other.


Colton now moved his kisses down to her neck, and she tilted her head back with a moan.

Suddenly a thought came to her and she froze.


”One sec, I need to freshen up again,” she said, pulling away from the groping hands. “Where is your bathroom?”

She grabbed her purse and followed Jason down the short hallway. She locked the door behind her and stood in front of the mirror. Could she really go through with this? This was so far beyond anything she had planned, and certainly unlike anything she’d ever done before.

But as scared as she felt, she couldn’t be certain that it wasn’t just exhilaration, because she knew without question she was very turned on. She slid her hand under her skirt to confirm. She ran a finger lightly up the length of her slit and couldn’t believe how wet she was. Looking into the mirror, she teased a few strands of hair down into her face, unbuttoned one more button on her blouse, and pushed her tits up. She almost looked like someone else, she thought. Someone sexy, slutty even, and she realized she loved it. With a deep breath and a smile, she grabbed her purse and returned to the living room.

She walked to the side table near the sound system and set her purse down. With her back to Alan’s co-workers, she took her phone from her purse and turned on the camera. Her heart was pounding in her chest, as she paused for a second, trying to be sure she wanted to do this. She felt hands on her hips, and Colton began kissing her neck again. She propped her phone against her purse, unsure if the angle was correct, and pressed the red circle on the screen.

Tina turned and wrapped her arms around Colton’s neck again, and they began to kiss. His hands slid to her hips, then moved to her ass, before finally dropping a bit lower and grabbing handfuls of her skirt. He pulled it up, exposing her bare ass, and grabbed it firmly.

She was kissing him hard now, her tongue sparring with his. He slid his hands below her cheeks to the backs of her thighs and lifted her off the ground. Instinctively, she wrapped her legs around his waist and locked her ankles together.


Colton turned them around and carefully walked over to the tall console table that ran along the back of the sofa. He set her down on the table, and the cold surface on her skin sent a shiver through her. Tina let go of his neck and leaned back slightly, as she reached down with both hands and fumbled to unfasten his pants. They dropped to the ground, leaving just his boxer shorts.

Colton quickly slid them off, and she looked down to see his cock pointing straight up into the air. She grabbed it and pointed the head of it against her pussy, sliding it up and down her slit to lubricate it.

He slowly slid his shaft deep inside of her, and she let out a cry. She leaned back and placed her hands on the table on either side of her, as Colton began to glide in and out of her. He felt so good inside of her!

Tina saw Jason come from around the sofa and stand beside her for a moment before grabbing the back of her head and kissing her. As they kissed, she reached down searching for his zipper and realized he’d already removed his pants. She found the hole in the front of his boxers and pulled his cock through it. Jason’s cock was average size, she estimated, but it was rock hard. She began jerking him off as they continued to kiss.

Colton was pumping harder now, and within a few minutes announced he was going to cum. He pulled out of her with one hand and lifted the bottom of her blouse with the other, before firing a hot load of cum onto her stomach. 


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

The third chapter of a story set in the world of my novel, Rise of the Church: Zadie’s Journey (recently republished).

The church featured in this fictional story is a fictional organisation.

This story is pure fantasy. I condone only safe, consensual sex in real life.

All characters are over 18.

Please enjoy!

*

Outside of the Church pt.3: Anal Servant

‘Why do you have to stay with him?’ said Jack, towering over her as she packed her suitcase.

Zadie looked up at her boyfriend. ‘It’s that or jail.’

He exhaled loudly. ‘What’s the point of spending the rest of your prison sentence with him instead of in prison?’

‘Wait, are you saying I should choose to stay in jail?’

Jack shook his head and looked away from her. ‘So, what, would you rather be his sex slave?’

‘His sex servant. I can go out and live my life now. Would you prefer me not to?’

He stormed out of the room and stomped down the stairs, and Zadie heard the clunking of crockery being put away. Jack always started doing house chores when they fell out. She finished packing and hauled her suitcase down to the hallway.

‘Mr Stanson’s waiting,’ she said.

‘If you go to his house, we’re finished.’

‘You didn’t even contact me when I was in prison. What was that all about?’

‘You were only there a couple days!’

Zadie snorted. ‘I didn’t come here as your girlfriend.’

‘Are you for real?’

She pushed the door open. ‘I’ll come back for the rest of my stuff.’

As she heaved the suitcase into the boot of Mr Stanson’s car, she looked back at the kitchen window, expecting to see Jack glaring back at her, but he was nowhere to be seen.

‘Nice of him to carry that for you,’ said Mr Stanson from the driver’s seat.

Zadie closed the boot and entered the vehicle. ‘It’s not his style.’

Still wearing her prison uniform, she let the man stroke her legs and fondle her chest as he drove, and several pedestrians were treated to a view of her erect nipples as they passed in slow traffic.

They stopped by an imposing, metal gate that swung open for them and led to a long driveway and a huge house.

‘I’ll put this in storage,’ said Mr Stanson, taking her suitcase. ‘You won’t actually be needing it.’

‘But I’m still wearing my–‘

‘Go straight up the stairs and to the first room on the left. You’ll find your outfit in there.’

Venturing into the cavernous building, Zadie found the room and the neatly folded set of clothes. She happily threw off her prison attire and picked up the first item — a tiny pair of shorts. She put them on and realised they were crotchless, and her shaven pussy was on full display. She rolled her eyes and donned the top which turned out to be a super-cropped hoodie that covered her arms and shoulders but nothing else. There was a dainty pair of high heeled shoes on the floor — she assumed that he wanted her to put them on, too.

‘Can I see?’ called Mr Stanson from downstairs.

Zadie dashed down to the living room to present herself to the man. ‘It doesn’t leave much to the imagination, Mr Stanson.’

‘I don’t mind,’ he said, sitting up on the sofa and beckoning her closer.

Standing between his legs, she let him palpate her exposed breasts and tug at her protruding labia. He turned her around and parted her butt cheeks to admire the combined view of her anus and pussy.

‘Good,’ he said. ‘I’m happy with that. Now, go to the kitchen — it’s at the end of the corridor — and make me a cup of tea. One sugar, no milk.’

‘Yes, Mr Stanson,’ she said, hurrying off to complete her first task as his servant.

Mr Stanson had her sit on his lap when she returned, and he rubbed the smooth skin of her belly and breasts as he took a sip of his tea. Zadie never usually made hot drinks, and she was half expecting him to screw his face in disgust, but he seemed satisfied.

‘So, Zadie,’ he said. ‘You are free to leave the house and do as you please between nine and four. I expect you to pay for your own food, though, so you might want to go back to work at the superstore part-time.’

‘Oh, I actually lost my job there when I got arrested.’

‘Very uncharitable of them.’ He plucked her nipple as he pondered for a moment. ‘I have a friend who’s looking for a receptionist. Would you be interested?’

‘Yes, I would, thank you!’

‘Okay, I’ll make a call now. There’s chicken in the fridge. Go make some dinner.’

Zadie hesitated. ‘What do you want me to–‘

‘Surprise me,’ he said, searching the contacts on his phone.

Zadie returned to the kitchen and spent an unreasonable amount of time fretting over what to make. She dashed around, opening all the drawers and cupboards to discover exactly what she had available, and she reasoned that, if an ingredient was present, he would be happy to eat it. She finally decided on a meal, but her nerves abated little as she started putting it together.

‘You have an interview tomorrow,’ said Mr Stanson, aksaray escort grabbing her hips from behind.

Zadie jumped — she hadn’t heard him approach. ‘Thank you so much, Mr Stanson!’

‘Don’t mind me,’ he said, unzipping his fly. ‘Continue what you’re doing.’

Zadie continued chopping the vegetables, sticking out her bottom as he prodded her with his glans. She relaxed her anus to welcome him inside, but she tried to ignore the intruding phallus and concentrate on the delicate task of using the knife while allowing him unhindered access to her bowel. It was difficult to cut with much precision as he fucked her, and as he increased his tempo — her naked breasts wobbling frantically and his crotch slapping noisily against her rear — she had to work very slowly to avoid risking injury.

Despite the difficulty, she managed to finish her dicing before he finished. She didn’t want to disrupt his flow, though, so she continued performing the same motions, chopping ever more finely. He went suddenly still, and she felt his seed shoot into her colon — she swayed her hips back and forth to help extract every last drop from his twitching cock, and she turned and smiled at him when he flopped out of her.

‘Thank you, Mr Stanson — that was nice!’

‘I look forward to dinner,’ he said, giving her breasts a little squeeze before returning to the living room.

Zadie continued preparing the food, finally free to move around the kitchen. Desperate to make a good first impression and avoid having him reconsider their arrangement, she took her time to carefully consider every detail. She was terrified that her idea of a good meal might be his idea of culinary hell, and she even began to worry that she was taking too long.

In the end, all her worries were for nothing; he seemed satisfied, and he let her retire to her room and make herself at home. Of course, there was little for her to unpack, as her single suitcase was full of clothes which she wouldn’t be wearing for several months. After wiping the dribble of semen from her rear, she lay on her bed to message some friends about her unexpected return to freedom. Or, at least, semi-freedom.

She tried to ignore a nagging doubt about her decision to accept Mr Stanson’s contract: if she had waited a little while, would Alistair have secured her full freedom for the volunteer work she had done for him? She had made her choice, and papers had been signed, so there was no use dwelling on it. She closed her eyes and attempted to empty her mind.

***

The hand rubbing her chest woke her from her dreams. It took her a moment to recognise the man sitting on her bed.

‘Good morning, Mr Stanson.’

‘Open your legs for me.’

‘Yes, Mr Stanson.’

‘I can forgive you this time,’ he said, fondling her pussy, ‘but I expect breakfast at seven in the morning.’

‘I’m sorry. What’s the time now?’

‘Time for you to get up. Your interview is in an hour.’

‘Oh, no!’ Zadie sprang off the bed and picked up her crotchless shorts. She didn’t remember removing her clothes. ‘Is it far?’

‘No. I’ll give you a lift,’ he said, handing her the top part of her outfit.

‘Thank you, Mr Stanson.’

Zadie stood before her benefactor as he inspected her. He caressed the bare skin of her belly and breasts, and he made some minor adjustments to her outfit.

‘Make sure to have your genitals on full display,’ he said, stooping to shift the fabric around her exposed pussy. He turned her around to check that her anus was similarly available. ‘Do you like your outfit?’

‘Yes, Mr Stanson, it’s so nice.’

‘Obviously, I can’t let you go out like this, so there are a couple of additions,’ he said, opening a drawer.

Zadie let him wrap a narrow strip of fabric around her chest — it was a strapless, satin boob tube with a zip at the front. He pulled the zipper up and gave her breasts a quick massage, enjoying the sensual combination of silky fabric over soft breasts. The other item was a short, flared skirt made from the same luxurious material.

‘This is your out-and-about uniform,’ he said, positioning her in front of a full-body mirror and neatening the hood of her super-cropped hoodie.

‘Are you sure this’ll be appropriate for my interview?’ said Zadie, watching her reflection as Mr Stanson lifted her skirt to reveal her little shorts and naked pussy.

‘No need to worry — I told them what to expect. They’re very much looking forward to seeing you.’

Zadie’s heart began to thud as he led her out to the car. She had no idea what her job would entail or what to expect in the interview; she had been given no opportunity to prepare in any way. She felt that she was about to make a fool of herself and let Mr Stanson down.

‘Mr Stanson,’ she said as they entered the vehicle, ‘what do I call you? I mean, what are you to me?’

‘What do you think I am to you?’

‘My… master?’

He smiled at her. ‘I think that’s a suitable nomenclature. That or Mr aksaray escort bayan Stanson will do nicely.’

Zadie smiled back at him, happy to be certain of her place. It wasn’t long before they were pulling up outside a hotel. The façade was nothing impressive, but it looked like a respectable establishment. Mr Stanson rubbed her breasts encouragingly and told her not to be nervous, but as she entered the lobby, her heart pounded as though she had just sprinted up a mountain.

She forced a smile for the pretty receptionist. ‘Hi, I’m–‘

‘Go through there and take a seat outside the first door on the right.’

Zadie waited a little while before a chiselled, middle-aged man opened the door and gestured for her to enter. An elderly man waited behind a large table as Zadie was shown to her seat; he watched her in silence as the other man neatened her hair and straightened her posture with firm hands, pulling her shoulders back and making her stick out her chest.

‘Welcome, Zadie. I’m Mr Farnworth.’ said the old man when the younger man finally retired to the chair by his side. ‘I apologise for my son — he likes to see our potential employees present themselves in their best light.’ He patted his son’s shoulder. ‘I understand that you’re currently serving Mr Stanson. Is he treating you well?’

‘Very well, sir, thank you.’

‘He certainly knows how to dress his girls. I’d be tempted to let you work in that attire and do away with our uniform.’

Zadie’s nerves calmed as they got into the flow of a conversation. The two men weren’t so scary after all. They discussed her history with the Secular Church of Acceptance, and they were particularly interested in learning about the various sex acts she was required to perform during her time in the convents. She did wonder, though, how such information was relevant to them.

Mr Farnworth gave his son a nod. ‘Now, Zadie, we have a lot of girls applying for this job, and we’re collecting as much information as possible so we can make a fair decision. Donathan is just going to take a closer look at you.’

Zadie smiled up at Donathan as he came and stood over her.

‘We like to make sure our girls are looking after themselves,’ he said, opening her mouth and slipping a couple of fingers inside as he checked her teeth.

Zadie made no effort to resist as he unzipped her little boob tube and removed it. She sat with her pert breasts thrust forward as he folded the tiny piece of clothing and stuffed it into his pocket, and she smiled and pulled her luxuriant hair over her shoulder as the old man took some photos of her.

‘We keep the photos to compare during the decision-making process,’ said Mr Farnworth, passing the camera to his son.

‘Keep smiling for the camera,’ said Donathan, taking some close-up shots as he fondled her breasts.

Zadie held herself proudly as the man enjoyed her soft flesh — she was used to such treatment, and she suspected that she was at an advantage over her competition, as few had so much experience in the role of the submissive.

‘Could you please come here and let me have a little sample?’ said Mr Farnworth. ‘I’m not quite as mobile as my son.’

‘Of course, sir,’ said Zadie, rising from her seat.

Mr Farnworth grinned as she stood in front of him and bent forward to offer her perfect breasts. He nodded thoughtfully as he pinched and tugged her nipples. ‘Very good indeed. You’re a strong candidate.’

‘Thank you, sir.’

‘Sit on the table, please.’

‘Of course, sir.’ Zadie sat in front of the old man and let him open her legs.

Mr Farnworth chuckled. ‘Ah! What a delight! We usually have to ask the candidates to remove their underwear, but you can certainly leave these on! Are you always clean-shaven?’

‘Yes, sir,’ said Zadie as Donathan gripped her shoulders and pulled her onto her back. She spread her legs wide for the old man as he took some photos of her bald pussy.

‘Is your vagina used often?’ said Donathan, pulling her labia apart to expose the pink flesh within while his father took a close-up.

‘Not so much, sir. Most men use my anus.’

‘Ah. Mind if I check that it’s in working order then?’

‘If you like, sir,’ said Zadie as Donathan extracted his semi-erect cock. ‘Do you mind me asking, though, how this is relevant to the job I’m applying for?’

Donathan stroked some lube onto his penis. ‘Women who can demonstrate strong sexual vitality are often happier and more hard-working.’

Mr Farnworth nodded. ‘And they have a certain presence that lifts the mood of the people around them.’

‘I always try to make sure people are happy,’ said Zadie as Donathan’s hard shaft slipped inside her pussy. ‘I like to smile, and I always work hard.’

The old man rose steadily from his chair and leaned on the table as he filmed the scene. ‘What sort of grades did you get at school?’

‘I got good grades, sir. I actually have a degree, too,’ said Zadie, her breasts jerking to-and-fro as Donathan thrust into escort aksaray her. She made sure to keep her slender legs splayed as wide as possible to facilitate their enjoyment of her.

‘I see! You’re a bit of an academic then?’

‘Well, I wouldn’t say that, but I’m definitely a good learner,’ said Zadie, her voice shaking with each impact.

‘Would you mind taking the camera for a moment? It’s still recording.’

‘Of course, sir.’ Zadie pointed the camera at herself and smiled sweetly while Mr Farnworth groped her breasts.

‘She’s producing a good amount of moisture,’ said Donathan, holding her legs akimbo as he fucked her.

The old man pulled her clitoral hood back to observe the swollen bud within. ‘I think we’re satisfied that you’re in good sexually health, Zadie, well done.’

‘Thank you, sir. Are you happy with the pictures you’ve got?’

‘I wouldn’t mind getting one more, actually. Would you like to get one up on your competition?’

‘That’d be great, sir!’

‘Good, then you won’t mind if Donathan puts it in your bottom? Your vagina photos will be greatly enhanced by a little anal gape — you’ll really stand out from the crowd.’

‘Did no one else do anal?’ said Zadie as Donathan’s solid shaft sank into her rectum.

‘Only a few, but they’re the top applicants so far.’

‘In that case, please proceed,’ said Zadie with a smile as Donathan’s meaty cock explored her bowel.

Mr Farnworth questioned Zadie about her strengths and weaknesses while his son punished her innards. It became more difficult for her to form coherent answers as Donathan picked up his pace, driving into her with increasing urgency.

‘Get ready,’ said Donathan, ramming his full length inside her.

Zadie felt the embedded phallus spasm repeatedly as it filled her rectum with a healthy dose of seminal fluid. She handed the camera back to Mr Farnworth who poised himself for the special moment. There was a soft popping sound as Donathan’s glans emerged, leaving the battered orifice agape, and the old man leaned in for a quick shot.

‘Perfect,’ said Mr Farnworth, reviewing the photo as the white liquid began to dribble from Zadie’s open anus. ‘I think we have all we need.’

‘Thank you for your time, Zadie,’ said Donathan, letting her dismount the table.

Zadie raised her arms as he wrapped the boob tube around her chest. ‘It was my pleasure, sir.’

Donathan pulled up her zipper and gave her breasts a final squeeze through the silky material. ‘We’ll be in touch.’

***

Zadie was performing house chores that evening when the doorbell chimed. She was conscious of her exposed genitals and breasts as she went to answer it.

‘Oh, I wasn’t expecting you to come here, sir!’

Donathan smiled and pinched her nipple as he entered. ‘I think it’s polite to deliver the news in person.’

Mr Stanson had Zadie fetch some wine for their guest as he made himself comfortable. Her heart raced as she served the men, but she tried to appear calm and collected. She stood waiting for what felt like an eternity while Donathan recounted the more exciting details of the interview.

‘I’m glad you enjoyed her!’ said Mr Stanson.

Donathan smiled. ‘It was a real pleasure to get to know her intimately. My father and I agree that she is the right choice for us.’

Zadie couldn’t contain her sudden rush of joy, and she squealed as she sprang up and down, her naked breasts bouncing wildly. ‘Oh, thank you so much! I won’t let you down!’

Donathan laughed. ‘Her energy is certainly uplifting!’

Zadie clasped her hands under her chin, squashing her breasts together with her forearms and grinning happily at the two men.

‘Would you like to show Donathan how much you appreciate his kindness?’ said Mr Stanson.

‘I’m so sorry, I forgot my manners!’ Zadie leapt down between Donathan’s legs and unzipped his fly, gobbling his cock and dutifully bobbing her head.

The men conversed as though she wasn’t there, ignoring the wet sounds emitting from her throat as she endeavoured to please her new employer. Eventually, Donathan signalled her to climb up and straddle him — she let him choose the orifice before she sank down and welcomed him into her pussy.

She smiled at Donathan as she rode him. ‘I’m so grateful, sir!’

‘You’ll be a great asset to the team,’ he said, his fingers digging into her hips.

Zadie jounced energetically, plunging the hard cock into her depths with zealous determination to give Donathan as much pleasure as she could — she felt it was the least she could do to thank him. He caressed her smooth skin and watched her breasts bounce with her vivacious movements. When he spurted his seed into her belly, she continued for a few moments to milk every last drop from the twitching shaft while he forcefully gripped her little waist. Finally settling, she made a final show of gratitude, hugging him tightly and whispering ‘thank you’ into his ear.

‘When you’re done, Zadie,’ said Mr Stanson, watching the pair as they kissed, ‘I have a little treat for you.’

‘Oh, this is such a good day!’ said Zadie, lifting herself off Donathan.

Mr Stanson had placed some kind of machine in front of the sofa, and he was still adding parts to it as she approached. ‘A little reward for your success.’

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“You have got to be kidding.”

Tony had just finished his second drink in the smoky bar as he listened to his friend speak. He leaned back in his chair as his friend spoke.

“No, dude. I’m serious.” the auburn- haired young man took a swallow from his glass. “I bet you ten dollars for each piece of clothing that you’re too shy to cross-dress.

Tony laughed, the cigarette smoke in the air stinging his nostrils. “How much are you offering, Chet?”

“Well…” Chet added up in his head. “The stockings are one piece, then the dress, apron and necklace… That’s forty bucks right there.” He wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his jacket. “And the shoes are another ten, and if you wear the whole thing a week, you’ll get another two- hundred.”

Tony took a breath in through his teeth, not sure what to think of getting 250 dollars just for wearing drag. He drained his third glass of lager and wiped the condensation off on his napkin. “I’ll do it.” He said.

“I figured you would.” Chet said with a chuckle. “Bet starts tomorrow; I’ll drop the outfit off later tonight.” He raised his glass. “Deal?”

Tony chuckled. His olive-skinned nostrils flared, his brow furrowed. He raised his glass to Chet’s.

“It’s a deal, you perv.”

—

The first day of the bet came and Tony found himself going to work with a black lace bra and panties on under his uniform. The dark brown nylons Chet picked out for him were hidden well under his dress pants, but throughout the day he felt odd. He scooted and turned in his chair in an attempt to get comfy. His hips felt funny. He looked up over the rows of cubicles to make sure nobody was looking, and then he dug his shaking hands under his pants and probed around with his fingers.

Beneath the cotton lace panties and the nylon, his hips felt bigger, softer. The seat of his pants felt tighter as well, and his chest felt tingly. That was the only way to really describe it, a tingly heat that flared up every so often. Tony thumped his heel against the chair as he tried to keep his mind on his work. The hours crawled by and Tony struggled to get anything done. If it wasn’t his pants feeling too tight on his hips, it was his chest feeling tender and sensitive under his shirt. And if it wasn’t that, it was his nylons bunching up under his pants.

Work let out and he was almost happy to come home and change into the full outfit. He locked the door to his apartment behind him and shut the blinds for good measure. He had it laid out on his bed: A plum purple 50’s style swing dress with a black stripe around the waist, a frilly white apron, pearl necklace and a pair of high-heeled pumps the same plum color as the dress.

The young man exhaled through his nose and thought about the money as he took off his tie and work shirt and threw them to the floor in a pile. His belt and black trousers joined them a moment later as he took the dress. It was a nice dress, at least; silky smooth, glossy satin. He slipped it on over his head, feeling the sleek fabric caress his swarthy skin. He smoothed it down, letting the knee-length skirt flow around his muscular legs. He did a little twirl in front of his mirror, giggling at the sight of the outfit on his lanky frame.

“I look ridiculous.” Tony smiled, more than a bit amused at his reflection. He plopped down on the bed, sticking his legs in the air. He rubbed his paw up and down his nylon-clad legs. Savoring the cool, soft fabric on his legs, the way the fully-fashioned style soles looked on his soft feet… He caught himself. Why was he enjoying the stockings so much? He sat up and pulled the heels on, pushing that particular thought to the back of his mind. He stood, wobbling in the hells until he got his balance right, and took the apron.

“An apron isn’t really women’s clothing, but whatever…” Tony whispered to himself as he put it on and tied it good and tight in back. He had just put the pearls on when he heard a knock on the door.

“Come in, Chet.”

His friend walked in and bit his lip trying to suppress laughter at the sight of his friend dolled up.

“Oh man, you actually did it…” Chet said in a lilting, triumphant tone.

“Yeah yeah…” Tony rolled his deep yellow eyes as he walked unsteadily in his heels towards his friend. “Where’s my money?”

Chet hummed a bit as he counted out forty dollars, plus ten for the shoes, and held it out for his friend. Tony snatched the bills from his paw and the two busted out laughing.

“Okay…” Tony said, rolling his brown eyes. “I guess if I make it to Saturday with this crap on, I’ll get the 200?”

“Exactly,” Chet smiled. The sight of his friend, straight-as-a-razor Tony Bello, in drag was worth 50 bucks.

Chet pulled his phone out. “Strike a pose, little lady.” And Tony put his hands on his cheeks and kicked his leg up, making the goofiest face he could envision as Chet’s phone snapped a picture with a soft click.

“Totally sharing that,” Chet said with a toothy grin. Tony grinned at him friend sheepishly. What was even his intention? Was it to embarrass him? Was escort he getting off to it somehow?

“Alright, I gotta go,” Chet said as he headed out the door, hands in the pockets of his hoodie. Tony couldn’t quite understand why, but a part of him was sad that his friend had to leave so soon.

Day two of the wager came around and Chet brought Tony over to his place. It was a small house, but it looked pretty cozy with its red brick walls and white picket fence. The little hairs on his back bristled as Chet held his arm as they walked up the wooden porch steps.

“Dude, I get that I look like a 50’s girl, but do you have to lead me around like one?”

Chet laughed. “What, you’ll dress up for me. But me escorting you, that’s where you draw the line?”

Tony just rolled his eyes as they walked in. Chet led him to a couch in front of the TV and sat him down. “You can take the shoes off, we’re inside.”

“Thanks,” Tony said, kicking the hells off and wiggling his aching toes. “Those heels are murder on my feet.”

“Can I get you anything?” Chet said, going into the kitchen.

“I’m good,” Tony said as he looked over the den and couldn’t help but frown. Magazines and paperbacks lying all over the coffee table and floor, stains in the rug, a floor that hasn’t been swept in ages. Tony’s nostrils flared as he took in the smell, sweat and dust. “This place is a mess…” He muttered to himself.

“How does Chinese sound?” Chet said from the kitchen, getting the black plastic phone off the hook.

“How about I cook something?” Tony said as he stood up. “Make some real food?”

Chet was more than a little surprised to see Tony stroll so purposefully to the stovetop, his dress flowing with every step. He got out some frozen salmon and laid it out, and then he set out some onions, some celery and carrots to cut up while it thawed. He hadn’t read the recipe, only knowing it by watching his mother make it, but it was enough. Chet watched his friend cut the vegetables, season the fish with salt and lemon pepper, and mix all of it together in a pan with some oil.

“You’ve been dressed as a woman for only two days and you’re already in the kitchen,” Chet said with a chuckle.

Tony just smiled as he worked. He would be the one laughing when he collected his money at the end of the week, yes sir. And on top of that, he looked damn good in those nylons and… Tony stopped himself. He focused on the cooking, ordering himself not to think of the outfit. He would make the salmon and not think at all how his butt looked so firm and shapely under the dress.

He finished the dish: salmon pan-fried in olive oil with a mirepoix. Chet sat at the table with his eyes closed, breathing the scent in. Tony served his plate first before sitting down to eat himself, he watched as his friend took the first bite. Chet put a forkful of salmon in his mouth and his blue eyes snapped wide open. “Oh, my…”

Tony looked at him, watching his reaction closely. “Is it good?”

“It is amazing,” Chet said, immediately taking another bite. “When did you learn to cook?”

“I cook for myself all the time.” Tony said with a smile as he watched his friend eat. Some part of him was happy Chet was eating something healthy for once. He smiled at Chet and he smiled back, wiping a bit of sauce off his thin, pale lips. Tony wished he used the napkin instead of his sleeve, but he would work on that later. And there it was again, his mind wandering.

“Something wrong, buddy?” Chet said, snapping his friend out of it.

“Erm… No, I was just thinking about something,” Tony said, prodding his meal with his fork.

“Like what?” Chet looked at him, running his fingertip along the rim of his glass.

“What do you like in a girl?” Tony said, reaching down with his other arm to adjust his stockings. Maybe he could talk Chet into throwing in a garter belt for anther ten bucks, and then maybe they would stay in place a little better.

Chet’s fair-skinned face was flushed. He smiled awkwardly. “Well, I like a girl who’s curvy,” he said, taking another bite of salmon. “Shapely legs, nice hair, a good personality,” Chet took a drink from his glass. “A gal you’d think about coming home to and get excited about it.”

Tony nodded, and thought that it was fortunate that he was close to the ideal laid out by his friend. There was something comforting in knowing that Chet would find him attractive if he were a woman. He wasn’t sure why he felt that way, though.

On the morning of the third day, Tony called in sick. He had woken up feeling weird all over, for lack of a better way to describe it to his boss. He felt an odd sort of hot tingling starting in his abdomen and flowing down between his legs, not to mention he felt… heavier around the hips and chest. As he put the phone back on the hook, Tony caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and thought he was dreaming at first. He had breasts. They were small, barely A cups but they were breasts all the same, his nipples stood on the end of them, making them look just that much more pronounced.

“The escort bayan hell is going on?” He muttered under his breath. Even his body hair was different, thinner and less of it. Even his treasure trail, that long black strip of hair leading down to his manhood, was gone. He ran two fingers down his midsection, he was never exactly ripped but he could tell that some of his muscle definition had vanished. His arms were very much softer, smoother, almost curvy. He made a mental note to exercise more over the weekend as he lay back on the sheets and watched a program about hummingbirds.

On the fourth day, Tony’s shift ended early and he thanked the universe and every deity in it for that. His pants were too big in the waist and too tight in the hips after fitting just fine for the longest. His nipples were so sensitive he couldn’t take his mind off them or the bra under his white button-up. And worst of all, his crotch was buzzing red- hot all day long. Every minute of every hour it went from being rock- hard to too sore for Tony to even sit with his legs closed. He fumed and fondled himself the entire drive home and he started undoing his fly the instant he stepped into his apartment. He kicked his khaki work pants off and fell back onto the bed, his member fully erect and feeling like it was burning a hole in his boxer briefs.

He began stroking almost without thinking, pumping up and down, faster and harder with no further thought. He thought about seeing a shapely young dark-haired lady in the outfit he was in. She had bows in her red fur, black lace underwear and long legs with stockings. She had that come-hither look in her green eyes and Tony muttered a suitable name for her under his breath as he stroked himself.

As his climax approached, his mind abruptly turned from being attracted to the woman to simply being her. He saw himself in her place as a big, strong Italian-American stud took her and bred her deep and hard. It was just a mental image, but it was too much. He climaxed loud and messily, feeling a mix of gratification and confusion as he lay there panting. What did he just do? What the hell was that all about? It felt wrong, but at the same time he wanted to take that fantasy further. He lay in bed for the rest of the day, wondering and daydreaming about what happened to that pretty little woman.

—

It was the evening of the fifth day and Tony knew he was going to win that bet. That was the only thing on his mind as he got out of bed, looked at himself in the mirror, and saw a pair of big, perky breasts. His breasts, perky C-cups right there on his chest. He blinked, blinked again, and touched them, bouncing them in his palms. “Son of a…” Then he looked in the mirror again and saw what was unmistakably a woman’s face. It was his face, with big doe eyes and smooth cheeks and a soft chin. His lips curled in a perplexed sneer as he studied himself. His hair had darkened and grew longer, into shoulder-length curls so soft and silky the hair looked like it spent the last day at a salon.

Tony didn’t know what was going on, but he had ideas. He made a mental note to punch Chet and also get a haircut as he strolled over to the TV. He breathed a long, tired sigh through his nostrils as he turned it on to a bridal show. They interviewed a recently married couple as they planned their wedding. Tony found himself looking more and more at the woman as she tried on her wedding dress. It really was quite gorgeous to Tony, flowing white satin down to the lady’s ankles, matching elbow length gloves, and the low-cut neckline did such a good job supporting her perky bust. Tony crossed her…his nylon-clad legs and watched. There was something about the dress, how elegant she looked in it, how happy she was to put it on and show it to her husband that made Tony smile.

A dress was so much more stylish than a tux, so much can be done on a dress but you see one tuxedo and you’ve seen them all. He really wished he could wear something that pretty when he got married. Tony stroked his cheek in thought as the show cut to a commercial for orange juice. Maybe he should settle down, the couple on TV looked so happy after all. Maybe Tony just needed to find a nice, strong… spouse to treat her… him right.

Something was wrong. He shook his head. “I need to sleep,” he muttered to herself…himself. He was confused, no doubt tired from work. The whole thing about the bet and getting back at Chet could wait.

—

Friday had come and Tony had pretty much won in his mind. He woke up and put his bra on, marveling at how snug it had felt since yesterday. Time to move up a size, no wait… he wouldn’t have to because the stupid, stupid bet ended today. It ended today and he could collect his money. He stepped into the lace panties and discovered that something was missing. No bulge in front, none at all. Tony cursed under his breath; oh he was definitely going to punch Chet’s lights out when he got his money. He reached down the front of his panties and nearly hit the ceiling when his hand grazed his new, very sensitive womanhood. Just bayan escort brushing over its lips felt like an electric current flashed through his spine. It was weird, it was unwanted… it felt really good. He wanted to explore it, try it out. But Chet was coming over soon and how awkward would that be? She… no he took in a deep breath and ordered himself not to touch it.

As he pulled his stockings on, he looked at himself in the mirror, catching a glimpse of a classy young lady staring back at him. Perfectly curvy legs tightly nestled under the nylons, supple olive- toned skin that showed up her deep brown eyes and silky black hair perfectly. “What the hell did Chet even do?” she… he muttered under his breath.

There was a knock on the door, payday for Tony. He strolled over in the most brusque, masculine walk his heels would allow him and swung open the door, fighting the temptation to just pop that son of a bitch right on the nose and let him keep his stupid damn money. Chet had a smug little grin on his face and Tony just stood there fuming in silence for a good couple of seconds.

“You look nice today,” he said smirking.

“Shut up,” sneered.

“Well…” Chet said, his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “You’re about to win the bet.”

“What do you mean about to? It’s Friday, I’m in drag. Fork it over.” Tony balled a fist, gripping the doorknob like it was Chet’s neck. Chet just chuckled, pushing past the former man into the apartment.

“You’ll win the bet if you put one last thing on, I promise.”

“And you’ll undo whatever… this is?” Tony said, almost shouting as he pointed at his well… womanly body.

“Sure, if you want.” Chet held out a ring, just a regular gold ring with no markings or embezzlements, just a ring.

“Just slip this on, and you’ll win.”

Tony took it, hesitating. It was such a delicate little thing, shiny and thin, and really quite elegant. It was simple in design, but it exuded femininity.

He breathed a long, low sigh through his nose as he slid it on. “Think of the money,” he repeated in his mind. And no sooner than when the ring fit all the way on his finger did he… no she receive a flash of insight. It was like a light being flipped on in her mind. It all added up, the dress, the changes, the ring. Tony knew what was going on, oh yes.

“You, you want to marry me?”

Chet nodded, caressing her chin. “Absolutely. You and nobody else, Tanya.”

“Oh Chet…” she said with a breathy sigh. “Of course I will!”

And why wouldn’t she? He was just so handsome, with his soft green eyes and his smile. His copper hair was so soft and shiny, his car was nice, his job was even nicer. Tanya threw her arms around him, their tongues dancing together as they kissed long and deep. Chet was the first to break the kiss, his hand trailing down to Tanya’s rump. Such a naughty boy he was.

“Now why don’t you make us breakfast and we can plan our wedding?”

Tanya’s eyes misted up as she smiled. “Of course hun, I have so many things I want to do. It’ll be our special day!”

Chet let the eager woman lead him into the kitchen where he pulled up a chair and watched her cook a full breakfast; it was like poetry watching her. “I’m such a lucky guy,” Chet said, and Tanya shot him a knowing smile as she fried eggs the way her mother taught: over easy with paprika and salt. As they ate, Tanya described in minute detail her perfect wedding as Chet listened. It was her big day, and they would make it special.

—

It’d been a year since the honey moon, almost to the day. Tanya swept the floor in the den, taking breaks to watch her shows every time the commercials ended. The house was much nicer now, tidier and the walls repainted a nice cherry red. It was a sunny summer afternoon so she had the air conditioning on, and every so often she would pass over a vent and it would blow her dress up and Chet would look at her butt. Not that she minded, every time he gawked at her, every time he called her pretty… it made it all worth it.

She sat down next to him on the couch, kicking her heels off. “Been on my feet all day hon,” Tanya said as she wiggled her toes beneath her fully-fashioned pewter gray stockings. And as a good husband should, Chet scooted over to her on the couch and attentively began to massage them, showing great care as he tenderly knead and rubbed her nylon-clad feet. “Oh thank you Chet…” Tanya moaned, “Just what the doctor ordered.” Chet just smirked as he kept massaging, putting more attention into every soft curve of her feet. He brought one of her soles to his lips, kissing it softly, then going back to work on them, she had a lot of tension in them.

“Oh Chet…” she moaned. Before long, he was on top of Tanya. She reached under her dress and rolled her panties down, he unzipped his fly. They kissed, time seemed to stand still. Chet reached under her dress and stuck a finger in her waiting folds, nice and moist; she blushed and smiled at him. And so he thrust into her, slowly at first, picking up speed with each stroke into her. Tanya growled lustily as she hooked her arms around him, bucking and grinding against his girthy member. “Oh honey… honey…” Tanya moaned over and over as he pumped away at her, kicking her stocking feet against the sofa cushions.

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Your girlfriend convinced you she really wanted breakup sex with you when you told her it wasn’t working out for the two of you. Then, when she got you naked, she chased you out with a fucking ice pick, leaving you with no clothes, no money, no phone. Now you had to find some way to call a cab. There was no way you’d call your roommate to come get you. You weren’t about to put up with his talking shit about you being dopey enough to think your girlfriend—ex-girlfriend—wanted to let you fuck her one last time.

You slipped into the all-night bodega on the corner, around the block from your now ex-girlfriend’s building. The guy there let you use his phone to call a cab. You’ll have to pay cash for it, so you’re counting on your roommate being up when you get there. You’ll pay him back when you can get your pants, wallet, and phone back from your ex-girlfriend. If ever. The bodega guy watched over your shoulder to see that you got the confirmation. His warm, stale breath close on your shoulder made you feel all that much more naked. He didn’t seem all that shy being so close to a naked guy.

Once you got the confirmation, he made you wait outside. He shrugged his sympathies, pointing at the security camera. He said the owner would have a shit fit if he let another naked guy wait in the store. Drives away customers. You wonder how many naked guys he gets in there. Is this what your ex-girlfriend does with all the guys who break up with her?

So, you go outside and slip around the corner to wait in the dark by the trash bins, away from the glare of the streetlamps and building security lights.

It’s dark, but not dark enough. It’s cold, but not too cold.

People walk by even at this hour. No one asks if you could use a shirt or some pants. At least they don’t call the cops.

You’re hoping you won’t have to get Mrs. Graves to let you in. The super lets her keep a spare key to all the apartments, since she never seems to leave the building. But she won’t give you the spare key unless you give her a long, involved reason why you don’t have your own. Tonight, you really hope you don’t have to ask her. There’s no normal excuse for you being naked, having to ask her for a spare key. It’ll be all over the building by morning.

The cab shows up and you skip out of the darkness, across the sidewalk, and up to the cab. But the door’s locked and it seems to take forever to open.

You get in. The driver studies you in the mirror. His face lights up, and he says holy shit, this never happens to me. All the years I’m driving, never once a naked guy gets in my cab. He turns to look you over, then settles back into his seat. He’s smiling, shaking his head.

You give him the address and shrink down into the seat.

Other drivers talk about it like it happens every day, he says, but not to me. Never. Hearing the stories, he says, they make it sound like, ooh, pardon me, can I suck your dick? Or, ooh, pardon me, would you lick my pussy. But to me? Never happens.

Gorgeous women get in my cab all the time, he says. Town’s full of gorgeous women, know what I’m saying? All of them going to or coming from classy places. Shops. Restaurants. Apartments uptown. You ağrı escort know, between you and me? A few times I’ve pulled over, after I dropped off a really hot looking woman, I’ve pulled over, and just whacked my meat right there. While the perfume is still in the cab. It’s not the same, but sometimes they are so hot, you can’t help yourself, you know what I’m saying? Just once I’d like to see one of them, sitting in the back seat, fishing around in their purse, and they look up all mortified and say, like, oh, shit, I don’t have the fare. Lost my wallet or forgot my card, or whatever. Then they’d look at me and say you look like you could use some pussy. How about some pussy for the ride, and they’d do me right there. Sometimes in the front seat, sometimes in the back seat. You know, riding me while traffic goes whizzing by, people walking past.

Let me tell you. Never happens. But here you are. A fucking naked guy in my cab. In my cab.

Or, the cabbie says, it’s a guy. Could be a guy, I’m not choosy. I’d try anything once, you know what I’m saying? You straight? You look straight. Some nights, I think how that might go. I won’t lie. I’ve jacked off thinking about how that might go. Some straight guy can’t come up with the money and has to blow me for it. All the time telling me, I don’t usually do this kind of thing, as he puts his face down in my lap. So I take my time, and make him work for it, you know? Pretty soon he’s really getting into it because I’m taking forever and he’s trying to make me come, and I just hold on and hold on. So he has to really work, like the best blow job in the history of blow jobs. Using every trick he can think of. Trying to remember what the wife did to him, or what his girlfriend did to him. We both have something to remember, you know what I’m saying?

But, the cabbie says, they have to be sober. I don’t mess with people when they’ve been drinking. Wouldn’t be the same. Wouldn’t be kosher. I can’t tell you how many times a guy pours some girl into my cab, throws a couple of twenties at me and tells me to get them home. Boyfriends, husbands, they all do it, you know. Sometimes it’s a woman, and her husband can’t even stand up. Have to tell you. I don’t see girlfriends doing it for the boyfriends as much. Hey, discrimination, right? That’s a laugh. But when they’re drunk, I keep my distance. I get them to their stop, help them to their front door, find their keys, and see them inside. Never did anything, swear to God, you know what I’m saying?

But you, you’re the first naked guy getting into my cab, he says.

He makes the turn onto your block and stops in front of the small lobby door of your apartment building. You remember there are no working street lamps along this block, and you’re thinking it’s a clear shot to the door, no one seeing. You’ll buzz and get your roommate to come down.

But he’s already out and got the car door open, climbing in beside you. The dark street works for him, too.

I hope you don’t mind, he says. Driving a cab all these years, this has never happened before. Something like this, you have to grab it while you can. I mean, maybe you do it all the time, but this is like once ağrı escort bayan in a lifetime, you know what I’m saying?

For once-in-a-lifetime, he seems to know what he’s doing, sliding in next to you, levering your legs apart. His whisker-stubbled face brushes your skin, so alien a sensation, naked as you are, it causes your ass cheeks to tingle.

All the time driving around this crazy city, he says, you’d think it happens all the time.

He’s already got you by the pecker, pulling and stretching it, then scooping your testicles from under you into the open, working them in his fist.

He asks if you’re excited because your balls are really warm, you know what I’m saying? Or is it my hands are cold?

It’s not excitement. You’ve had them pressed between your legs on the vinyl upholstery of a heated cab. It is definitely not excitement.

His hairy cheek continues rubbing against your neck, as he watches himself playing with your nuts. He keeps saying this is so unreal, so unreal, working you like he’d never seen a cock and balls before. You’d push back, but he’s dressed and wearing shoes. You’re not. That seems a disadvantage. Or maybe it’s because you’ve never been anyone’s ‘once in a lifetime’ and you’re just being polite.

You don’t know how far this is supposed to go. It’s the alienness of it that charges your nerves and wakes up your dick, growing stiff.

He’s pushed you over, hefting you onto your knee, your other leg off the seat, your foot on the floor. With one hand he reaches between your legs, from behind, and works you like a cow’s tit. With the other, he unbuckles his pants and draws out his own dick. You didn’t see it, but it drags across your thigh as he changes position behind you. Contact sends a jolt spidering along your skin.

Your forehead rests against the edge of the door, the crown of your head against the glass. You feel something wet and slimy fingered into your ass. Something to slick you up. He must have been planning for this a long time, keeping it within reach. Whatever he’s using, you hope it’s not out of date. Then he presses in and slides himself inside you and it burns and stretches you. Your cock quivers as your nervous system tries to make sense of what’s happening—it’s sex, but nothing it recognizes. Your ex-girlfriend mentioned wanting to peg you. Maybe you should have let her. You’d be used to it.

He’s got one hand flat on your back, keeping you down as you reflexively rise up away from the discomfort, and the other hand gripping your hip joint to keep you in close.

He rides, starting slow, working you open, picking up speed as it gets easier, pumping. You feel your innards cook, the burn radiating, your half-bent leg to the floor starting to dance with the strain of holding yourself up. He keeps saying I can’t believe I’m doing this, I can’t believe I’m doing this, and oh god oh god, which strikes you as funny because you wonder if it’s really a good idea to call in the Almighty on this. Maybe it’s his way of giving thanks for this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

He slides one hand up to your shoulder, gripping you. With the other he reaches under you , pressing escort ağrı hard on your belly, feeling around, trying to feel himself inside you. You’d like to remind him how your bladder and intestines are in the way, but that would sound like small talk. Which would come off as sociable, and you don’t see anything sociable about this.

He keeps pumping and slamming against your ass, and you wonder if he’s going to go all night because you know when you’re excited, riding your girlfriend you barely last a couple of minutes. He just keeps on going, still calling out, finally slowing as if to make it last.

You hope it means he’s close, and then he slams hard doing a little hip shimmy, reaching deep, pushing your head into the side door glass and he holds himself all the way in, you feel yourself fill up, then start to leak, the jizz running down your leg. He pulls back part way and slams again, he does that another few times, and you wonder how it stays stiff enough to do that. If it was you, the minute you shoot you go flaccid when you’re in your girlfriend. Ex-girlfriend.

You realize now how your pecker’s been buzzing, like an alarm you’ve ignored, or a call you let go to voicemail. Buzzing and then spewing, you’ve come on the seat and it all mingles with the jizz leaking from your ass. You wonder if sperm fights, if two men ejaculating in the same woman, their sperm would battle each other, or simply try to outrace each other. It’s funny, and you duck your head, looking between your legs to see the streams of semen ooze toward the crevice at the back of the seat.

Nothing down there, you’d say to the seed of Man, but the guy is stroking your back and neck, and you begin to think this needs to be over. Maybe he does too, because he pulls out, but taking his time about it, still hard. Your leg still shakes, nearly giving way, but you shift and catch yourself. He backs out of the cab, pulling up his pants and buckling his belt.

You crawl backward out of the cab, getting your feet on the ground. Ducking, you step backward. He has you by the arm and takes you to the building entrance, the air cold against the wet on your thigh.

You buzz your apartment and your roommate answers. You say you need him to bring down some cash for the cab. Maybe you don’t need to pay, but you don’t want it to look like you rented your asshole to the driver in exchange for the ride. Your roommate’s cursing, but a few minutes later—a long, long few minutes later as you keep your back turned to the late night passers-by checking out your ass trying to guess who you are—your roommate appears.

He opens the door and you say give him twenty. You know it’s more than the ride costs, but you don’t want to wait for change of the twenty. Or figure the tip. What would you tip? Your ride? His ride? You slip past your roommate and head for the apartment. At least he won’t make those same jokes about you having to suck his dick for the twenty. Now he’ll be concerned you’d actually do it.

You’re still leaking, drops falling onto the linoleum. You hope Mrs. Graves doesn’t slip in it going to her mailbox. You wonder if anyone will notice.

You do come to one decision. If you ever, in your life, need to break up with another girlfriend, you won’t fall for that let-me-change-your-mind-with-some-awesome-sex scam. You will do it fully dressed and money in your pocket. You ought to get more than carfare for your asshole. You’ve only got the one.

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The Art of Anal Part 10

By Autumn, I condensed my sexual portfolio, one investment at a time. First to go was Andrew after the last gangbang. Our solo sessions were not particularly mind-blowing, but he functioned better as an extra stunt cock with the ladies. However, they found his personality grating and soon lost interest in hooking up with him. I think the feeling was mutual, and we stopped communicating with each other.

Next came the well-constructed but severely myopic Mandy, who was miffed that Bella, her fellow student and part-time lover, was messing around with me. We were not in an exclusive relationship, and I did not hide the fact that Bella willingly joined my portfolio. Mandy stopped dropping in the Broken Hill Hotel on a Friday evening after class with her colleagues, including Bella. Mandy’s mother later said that her daughter was involved with a guy long before I came on the scene, and that relationship was becoming more serious. That nugget of information made a mockery of Mandy’s faux outrage with me.

I continued knocking boots with Bella after Mandy’s exit. She was attractive and loved to experiment with sex. Like Mandy, I anally deflowered Bella. Since that time, anal had become a staple part of playtime. Additionally, we were having fun in public places like what I was doing with Leah, Mandy’s mother, but not as intense or risqué. Bella exited my portfolio after she became infatuated by the sales manager of the sex shop where she purchased a butt plug. We remained friends and occasionally drunk together in town. Bella propositioned me several times, but I was in an exclusive relationship with Paula by that time.

After our gangbangs and several solo sessions, Paula worked up the courage to take control of her life from her overbearing husband. He was not physically abusive, but he treated Paula more like a servant rather than a wife. She was denied a career and was expected to tend house all day while Paula’s stoner husband and his mates played with their muscle cars. With gentle encouragement from me and others, Paula moved out of the marital home, secured a house and her first job since her marriage began at the local leisure centre. As all the changes occurred, Paula and I became remarkably close. Of the five, she was the one I was attracted to the most.

The fourth and final investment to drop out of my portfolio was Leah, a sexually voracious predator. She took every opportunity offered, from random hook-ups on the street to co-workers and anything in between. She was married, but Leah’s husband had lost interest in sex. Even if he were interested, Leah’s appetites could not be satisfied by any one man. We had a regularly Tuesday liaison at a derelict building close to where we lived. Our surroundings’ seediness complimented the action perfectly, which consisted of anal-only and, lately, golden showers. Saturday followed Tuesday and usually took place at my house, where the action was preceded by champagne and a spa.

On one of these Saturday sessions, things with Leah took a weird and disturbing turn that ultimately revealed her progress down a dark, self-destructive path. We were on my bed, and I had ploughed Leah’s arsehole with my customary savageness. She could tell I was close to coming and ordered me to let loose on her face. Hers was not an unusual request because it was either a facial or an anal cream pie these days.

I pulled out of her gaping shitter, admired the perfectly round hole before getting into position. Leah rose on her haunches but remained on the bed, forcing me to my feet. The uneven surface of the bed left me a little unbalanced. I came hard and vocally, coating Leah’s pretty face with boiling bolts of salty semen. She squealed in delight with every impact but seemed to be hamming it up more than usual.

My knees went weak when my orgasm subsided, and I collapsed on the bed, exhausted and satisfied. When I regarded my senses, I saw Leah still playing with my cum, rubbing into her cheekbones, massaging her tits which were good and all, but this little show was directed at the bedroom window.

Groggily, I turned my eyes and got the shock of my life. For a split second, I saw a face starring at us. It vanished instantly, as did the frosting from breath against the pane. Leah collapsed on the mattress.

“Shit!” I yelled, frantically rolling off the bed and searching for some clothes to put on, “Did you see that?”

Leah did not answer.

Hastily attired in t-shirt and boxer shorts, I scrambled for the front door and out on the deck. There was no-one by the window, no-one in the front garden and no-one on the street in either direction. I was yet to get around to installing front door sensor lights, so the only illumination came from the road. I completed a circuit of the house before returning inside to retrieve a torch. Leah was lying on the bed, seemingly unconcerned about a possible intruder.

Returning to the bedroom window, the torch revealed a disturbing scene. On the windowsill afyon escort was a translucent fluid that was dripping onto the deck below. I knew what the substance was and immediately sussed the situation. A peeping Tom was present, Leah knew about him, and he evidently enjoyed the show.

“What just happened?” I boomed after walking back into the house.

Leah was in the bathroom, splashing water across her face and preparing for a shower.

“You knew about this?” I asked.

“Knew about what?” Answered Leah with an innocent glint in her eyes.

“About someone watching us,” I stammered, “Wanking outside the window.”

“I wasn’t sure about that bit, but yeah, I knew he was there.”

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“You are kidding?” She said, “It was erotic as fuck!”

“A stranger, trespassing and watching us having sex?”

“Hell, yes!” Replied Leah about to enter the shower, “Don’t fret, he wasn’t a ‘stranger’.”

“What does that mean?” I asked, sitting on the toilet, my interest piqued and anger dispersing.

Leah sensed my changing demeanour and smiled at me as she soaped her shapely body.

“That was my husband.”

“Your husband?” I asked, confused, “He’s a pervert now?”

“He likes watching other men pleasure me.”

“A cuck?” I could hardly credit it, “I thought he lost interest in sex?”

“A cuck, yes,” Replied Leah as she ran her fingers across her freshly fucked arsehole, “And his interest in sex has been revived but not in a conventional way.”

“He goes to peoples’ houses, uninvited, and wanks on their bedroom windows?”

“Not exactly uninvited.”

“Oh, so you invited him?” I sneered, “Without my consent?”

“I didn’t think you’d agree, and I didn’t expect he’d be stupid enough to get caught.”

“His face was practically pressed against the glass, for fuck’s sake!”

“Overzealous,” She said, “Must have enjoyed the gape!”

Leah’s tone and her responses indicated that she felt the incident was no big deal. After all, no harm came of the matter, except a total violation of my fucking privacy!

“Yeah, I bet that’s when the filthy fucker painted my window.”

Leah laughed at my laconic joke, relieved that I was not angry.

“Where is he then?” I asked.

“In the car, probably.”

“I looked when I was outside, but there was no-one in your car.”

“Perhaps he’s hightailing it home on foot, scared witless at being discovered.”

“It would have been nice if you’d asked me beforehand,” I gently chided her, “How long has he been into this?”

“Couple of months,” Leah replied, “He confronted me one day about my infidelities.”

“How did he know?” I asked, intrigued.

“He was doing the laundry and discovered soiled panties,” She said, turning off the taps, “Soiled with sperm.”

“I guess he wasn’t angry?”

“No, but I was expecting him to be,” Leah said, stepping out of the shower and reaching for the towel, “It had the opposite effect.”

“In what way?”

“He confessed that the thought of me getting diddled silly by other men got a rise out of him, for the first time in a while.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, he said he pulled his cock out, and the more he imagined what I was getting up to, the harder he got.”

“So, he had a crafty wank?”

“Yep, when he smelled the gusset, he creamed the floor.”

As Leah retold this tale, I suspected a lot more took place after that encounter.

“He said it was the best orgasm he can ever remember,” She continued, drying herself with the towel, “But that was just the start of it.”

“Your confession triggered a confession from him?”

“It sure did,” Leah snorted, “In ways that blew my mind.”

“Do go on,” I encouraged, thoroughly interested now.

“He confessed that watching me with other men turned him on, but the real kicker was that he fantasised about eating a cream pie when I get home.”

“A cuckold with a cum fetish, nice.”

“Yeah, and I must admit that got my pulse racing too.”

“Have you indulged his cum fetish?”

“I have.”

“When did the peep shows begin?”

“About a month ago, not long after our mutual confessions.”

“So,” I began, trying to untangle this web of filth, “You invite him to your play dates, and he spies on you getting fucked by other men?”

“And women,” Leah interjected, “But he prefers watching me with men.”

“They come inside you,” I said, trying to wrap my head around this scenario, “You hold it in before returning home with his ‘gift’?”

“Essentially,” She replied, “Before I fuck him with my strap-on. Then he climaxes.”

“So, he has a pegging fetish too?”

“Indeed,” Leah smiled, “Another confession was using my toys on himself to masturbate.”

“Your sex life has revived?”

“Yes, and it’s great,” She replied, “It’s a whole new and exciting side of him that I had no inkling of.”

“You like it?”

“Oh, yeah. The power I wield over him is intoxicating.”

“You’re the dom, and he’s afyon escort bayan the sub?”

“Only in the bedroom,” Leah chuckled, “His masculinity is preserved outside of it, and what a man he is!”

Leah expressed pride and love in her husband, the father to her children.

“Does this mean a curtaining of your infidelities?”

“No fucking way!” Leah snorted, “It means approval to ramp it up so long as hubby’s lusts are satisfied.”

“Were there any other confessions?”

“Such as?”

“What about our venture into the golden arts?” I asked,” Is he curious about being with a guy?”

“No for both questions,” Leah chuckled.

“Fair enough.”

“Unlike me, he forsakes all others.”

“And places you second only to God?” Leah nodded at my question, “Wow, I’m impressed.”

“He’s a good man, and he’s my man!”

There was a pause in the discussion, and Leah dressed.

“How many times has he watched us?”

“Twice, including tonight.”

“When was the first?”

“A couple of Tuesdays ago.” Leah confirmed, “He ate my anal cream pie afterwards for the first time.”

“He was reluctant?” I asked.

“Yes, but he came harder than ever.”

There the conversation about her husband’s renewed but perverted interest in sex ended, and Leah shortly departed for home.

Tonight scared the living shit out of me, and the fact that he surreptitiously spied on me on previous occasions was unnerving. As a result, I was beginning to feel distinctly uncomfortable with our relationship.

My concerns were soon confirmed. Leah needed rougher and rougher action. Not only was she taking on more partners — not all of whom were regulars — and having intra-day sessions. She begged for fisting, for choking, for being spat on, for being verbally degraded, so-on-and-so-forth.

Hers was a dark place that I could not follow. My preference was for mutual respect in our sexual relations. Yeah, sure, I loved intensity and hardcore play, but what Leah needed and increasingly demanded was turning me off wanting to be with her.

****

Weeks later, Tuesday’s session in the seedy rundown building was our final one, as it turned out. The previous Saturday, my phone pinged with an unexpected message from Paula.

“Hi Jason, guess what? I got my first PT customer today!”

“The first of many, I predict.”

“Thank you for believing in me.”

“I know you can do this.”

“As a token of my appreciation, can I take you to dinner this weekend?”

If I accepted, and of course I would, a dinner date with Paula would be our first meeting in several weeks.

“I would be honoured,” I answered, “What did you have in mind?”

“Haven’t worked that out yet, LOL.”

“Okay, let me know.”

“Will do. Gotta go xx.”

That was a positive development, and my soul received a much-needed boost. Paula was increasingly invading my thoughts while Leah was rapidly fading from them.

I waited at the Empire Bar in my usual booth for Leah to arrive. Even when Leah joined me at the bar for pre-anal drinks, the conversation between us was white noise since my thoughts always drifted back to Paula.

“Shall we go?” Asked Leah after draining her glass.

“Lead the way,” I smiled nervously, getting hard, “Do we have company tonight?”

“No,” Laughed Leah, “Hubby’s at the gym.”

“You certain about that?” I asked, shooting a questioning glance back at Leah.

“Relax, he won’t be there,” She reassured me, “Come now, my arse needs its weekly workout.”

Moments later, we arrived and entered the building and ascended the second floor with practised ease. Over the time that Leah and I rendezvoused at this seedy locale, we noticed that underage drinking had increased, tagging had increased, and the building’s use as a storage facility for shitty office equipment had increased. Now, there was a dirty table and a funky couch to fuck on. Leah and I took full advantage of both.

After disrobing and spending several minutes kissing without emotion, I ordered Leah to her knees as I rested against the table.

“Throat fuck me!”

Leah seemed to force all my meat down her throat, choking and coughing. She squeezed her nostrils shut and appeared to self-asphyxiate. This was the dark side of her that I did not like. It seemed that each time she did this act, Leah was somehow beating a personal best. However, I had a genuine concern about the wisdom of such an act but, because it felt and looked so good, was unable to prevent Leah’s madness.

Then suddenly, her entire body shook, and she let out an enormously painful grunt that came from the pit of Leah’s body. With a roar, she pulled back, releasing my cock and from her mouth erupted a deluge of semi-clear fluid that coated my abdomen, cock, balls and legs.

“What the fuck?” I exclaimed in horror at this new deviant act.

“I just came,” Coughed Leah, wiping her mouth and smiling.

“You come from your mouth now?” I asked in a tone that was escort afyon a mixture of shock and awe.

Leah did not answer but growled and took my cock back in her mouth. I surmised that oral fluid was essentially water and wine. The only time I have seen someone puke during sex was on a Max Hardcore scud video where several victims were encouraged to jam their hands down their throats are spew over Max’s cock, but Leah’s version’ was somewhat different. There were no chunks, and it did not smell! Thank heaven for small mercies, I guess. Such behaviour solidified my decision to offload this degenerate creature.

“Time to fuck,” I said, pulling her to her feet, after which I acknowledged the contents of Leah’s stomach on the floor.

Directing Leah to the couch, I made her bend over, thrusting her arse in the air and readying her pucker for penetration. Reaching over, I grabbed her panties from the floor and stuffed them in her willingly slutty mouth before ramming my puke-smeared cock deep inside her sloppy cunt.

Leah growled gutturally with her soiled panties lodged firmly in down her throat during these few minutes of obligatory pussy action. She was hot, wet and ready to go as I slid my cock easily into her used hole.

“I’m gonna come,” She whined, “I’m gonna come!”

The grunting and growling increased with muffled intensity before I felt Leah’s cunt muscles tense up. A hand came from one side and pushed against my abdomen, forcing me from her pussy, while a second hand reached underneath and rubbed against her clit with furious intensity.

Simultaneously, a massive gush of translucent fluid erupted and sprayed across the rotting couch. Leah occasionally squirted in the past, but the volume of this gush exceeded all expectation. I tasted her squirt on occasion, and it had a lovely taste, not like piss at all, which is what I thought it was initially. Leah told me the process that differentiates piss from “squirt”, but that went far over my primitive male brain.

With her pussy orgasm out of the way, I pressed the purple-raging head of my cock against Leah’s spongey arsehole and pressed. She growled and grunted with the intensity of a wild animal as I forced my engorged cock inside my favourite hole. She yielded with practised ease, and within seconds I was balls deep inside her slutty dirt box.

Despite the need to offload this degenerate sexual demon, I would miss her arsehole, which took my cock inside with the least resistance. One of the reasons why Leah kept me around for so long was a confession that most of her male “toys” did not indulge in anal sex. Such an act was “weird” and “for fags”, apparently.

Whatever! I had no such hang-ups and gleefully ploughed Leah’s dirty hole with reckless abandon.

“Are you ready?” I asked after the fact.

“I’m ready,” She winced.

“Ready for what?”

“Ready for an arse reaming!” She squealed through the muffle of her panties.

“Good girl,” I said as I started pistoning my pole inside her backdoor, giving her O-ring little time to adjust.

“Yes, yes, yes!” She screeched, “Oh, God, dammit!”

I thrust away, plumbing new depths. About a minute into this torture, Leah demanded to taste my cock.

“Let me taste my arse!”

I felt her muscle throttle my cock as I eased my greasy shaft from her backdoor and leant against the back on the couch while Leah slid backwards, sliding across the puddle of female “squirt” and swallowed me whole.

“Fuck!” I gasped after feeling the back of Leah’s throat.

After several full-length throat fucks, Leah told me my cock tasted of “a million dollars”. She never shied away from administering enthusiastic and expletive-filled ATMs. Leah was the master of filthy X-rated sex but was staying into alarming territory.

We switched positions with Leah reverse-cowgirling me. I sat in her puddle while she straddled my legs and stuffed my cock easily back inside her shitter before bouncing up and down aggressively.

“Fucking yes,” She growled, “That’s it, ream my arse!”

I shuffled down the dirty couch a little and was able to thrust that much deeper inside her arsehole and this set of her first anal orgasm.

“Fuck my dirt box,” She panted, “Plough my fucking dirt locker!”

Leah possessed quite the imaginative library of colourful metaphors when it came to anal sex. I think it helped her build up her assgasms, which she confessed she preferred to vaginal climaxes.

“Yeah, here it fucking comes,” Screamed Leah, “Fuck it out of me!”

Seconds later, she ejected my cock and, with a deep grunt, expelled another gush of “squirt” on the dirty floor of this derelict office building.

“Fuck, yes,” She exclaimed while smacking her cunt, “Stuff my arse!”

I eased back inside her hot, dirty hole and continued to work it hard. The building smelled of sex and was filled with Leah’s growls, moans and filthy language and the sound of wet flesh slapping together. Anybody walking their dog outside would have heard this strange cacophony of animalistic expression.

Leah squirted several more times in this position before we swapped to the missionary anal position. In the dim light of evening, I could see fluid dripping across both of her thighs and matting the tuft of pubic hair above her clit.

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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Tina felt as though she had just drifted back to sleep when she was again awoken by the most delicious feelings coursing through her body. Again, someone was in her bed with her. As before it took a moment for her senses to register what was happening.

She was laying on her stomach and someone was behind her, stroking his cock between the cheeks of her ass. His hands were holding her wide open and every time the head scraped against her asshole, a low moan slipped through her lips.

“It was nice of the other boys to leave you all lubed up,” a low voice rumbled from behind her.

She didn’t recognize the voice and before she could tell him to get lost, his cock head pushed inside her ass. She gasped loudly, surprised by his sudden action.

“Tyler came back down earlier today far too pleased with himself and I know Rick was just up here, so I thought I’d try my luck with you. And here you are, all ready,” he grunted, pushing in halfway.

“Oh God,” she gasped. She wasn’t sure who was behind her, she hadn’t recognized all of the guys downstairs earlier, and she knew she should be telling him off, making him stop, but his cock felt so good, all she could do was groan and push her ass up in the air for him.

“Yeah, that’s it baby,” he laughed. His laughter turned to a groan of pleasure as his cock pushed in again, this time to the hilt. “Christ, you feel good!” he grunted, pulling back to drive back in again. “Oh yeah baby, your ass is so fucking hot!” he exclaimed, giving her cheek a slap.

Rhythmically he began pumping in and out of her, filling her ass with his cock. “Yeah, baby, that’s it, give it to me,” she urged him, tossing caution to the wind and welcoming this stranger’s cock inside her. “Give it to me hard,” she demanded, not caring that her ass was already sore from the fuckings she had received earlier.

He complied, driving deeply into her, his hips slapping against her ass. She could feel him spreading her cheeks and knew he was watching his cock sliding in and out of her stretched hole. “You like watching as you fuck me?” she gasped.

“Oh yeah,” he muttered, his eyes fixed on her hole as he plowed into her. “I like watching my big cock stretching you wide.”

Tina cried out her pleasure into her pillow as her body was overtaken by orgasms. “Yeah, cum for me baby, cum for me,” he chuckled, plunging deeply into adıyaman escort her, loving the feeling of her ass clenching around his cock as it ravaged her anal hole.

She was almost delirious with pleasure when he finally pushed in deep and with a loud groan, announced that he was cumming. “Oh yeah, baby, I’m cumming. I’m filling your ass with my cum!”

He stayed behind her for a moment before pulling his limp cock from her. “Thanks babe, that was great,” he said, giving her a slap on the ass. Without another word he was gone. Not that it mattered much as Tina was already drifting back to sleep.

When she awoke next, it was morning and she was thankfully alone in her bed. The events of the previous night came flooding back to her with shocking clarity. “I’m such a slut,” she moaned, covering her face with her hands.

“Really? Do tell,” a voice spoke, startling her.

With a gasp, she sat up in bed to see Tyler sitting in a chair at her desk. “You think you’re a slut because you let me fuck you again?” he asked.

I don’t have to tell him about the others, she thought quickly before answering him. “I hardly let you. I didn’t really have any say in the matter, either time,” she stated, getting defensive.

“Then why do you feel like you’re a slut?” he asked, his brow furrowing. “Oh I know. It must be because you also fucked Rick and Dan last night,” he stated smugly.

“What makes you think I fucked them?” she asked warily.

“I saw them come up here last night. So unless you were discussing the weather or comparing stock portfolios, I would guess you fucked them,” he replied, a smile teasing at his lips.

“Oh God,” she moaned, flopping back down on the bed, her hands again covering her face. “It’s all your fault, you know,” she accused, sitting back up, suddenly angry. “If you hadn’t fucked me at the concert, if you hadn’t forced me, I wouldn’t know how damn good it was!”

“But I just couldn’t help myself. You were there, looking so hot and the opportunity was perfect, I couldn’t pass it up. I’ve wanted your for so long, I couldn’t help myself. And I don’t like to think of it as forcing you, more like aggressive encouragement.”

“Whatever,” she groaned. “You’ve turned me into a slut.”

“Oh, it’s not really that bad, is it?” he asked, rising and approaching her bed.

Looking escort adıyaman up at him, she declared, “Oh no you don’t! Don’t even think about it! I’ve been fucked enough in the last twenty-four hours. I’m way too sore! So just…go away.”

Ignoring her protests, he sat on the edge of her bed and stroked her hair. “Do you really want me to go?” he said softly, staring into her eyes.

The lust she saw in his eyes was her undoing. “Well…” she hesitated.

Gently, he caressed her lower lip with his thumb, sliding it between her parting lips. Without taking her eyes off him, she eagerly sucked his thumb, swirling her tongue around it.

He breathed in deeply, watching her suck him. Slowly he withdrew his thumb from between her lips and standing, he unzipped his pants. She stared hungrily at his bulging crotch, watching eagerly as he lowered the zipper and tugged the pants to his hips.

His large, erect cock sprang free and she quickly caught it in her hand, guiding it straight to her mouth.

He groaned loudly as she swirled her tongue around the head, sucking on it gently before sliding the length of it into her mouth. Staring down at her from between half closed lids he watched her take every inch of him until her nose was pressed against his belly. His hand clenched in her thick blond hair as she continued to deep throat him, quickly driving him to the brink of orgasm.

“Are you really too sore to fuck?” he groaned. “Even your pussy?”

“You want my pussy?” she purred, fisting him slowly. She drew back the blankets with one hand, spreading her thighs. Her hand slid down her belly and disappeared between the wet folds of her pussy. “You want to fuck me here?” she teased, her back arching slightly as she played with her clit.

“Yes,” he gasped, staring at her hand, mesmerized as she pleasured herself. “I want you on your hands and knees, taking every inch of me,” he growled, turning his eyes to hers, the usually pale blue having turned dark with desire.

Releasing his cock, she slowly rolled over and pulled herself up onto her hands and knees, arching her back. “Give it to me, baby. Fuck my hot cunt,” she invited.

Moving slowly himself, he moved behind her, gently caressing her ass. “No spankings,” she warned. “I’ve had enough of that for one night as well.”

Disappointed, he trailed adıyaman escort bayan his fingers through her wet pussy, one finger easily sliding inside her. “You’re so wet,” he groaned, feeling how hot and ready she was for him.

“Give it to me,” she urged. “Fuck me, baby.”

He was enjoying hearing her ask for it, so only continued to finger her. “You want it? You want my cock in your hot slit?” he teased. Stroking the head of his throbbing dick through the her dripping folds felt so could he could barely stand it, but he wanted her begging for it.

“Yes, yes, I want your cock inside me. Give it to me!” she demanded.

He slid only the head inside her. “Is that what you want?” he asked, smiling wickedly.

Suddenly she spun about and grabbing his shoulders he pushed him backwards on the bed. She quickly moved over his body, straddling his hips. Before Tyler knew what was happening she had guided his cock to her hungry opening and slid down on it with a loud, satisfied groan.

Grinding against his hips with her head thrown back, she muttered, “Now that’s what I want. Oh yeah, that feels good.”

She leaned over him, her breasts brushing his face and began to fuck him, slowly but deeply. Reaching for her tits, he guided a dark pink nipple to his mouth and sucked hard, nipping with his teeth.

“Mmmmm…yes, that’s it,” she sighed, her pace quickening. Soon she was sitting up and pumping up and down quickly, her tits bouncing on her chest, her hair flying wildly.

Tyler lay back in awe, watching this beautiful young woman fucking him so passionately. His cock was ready to explode but he waited until she cried out and ground down on his hips, her thighs squeezing him tightly as her orgasm roared through her. With a loud groan he let go and filled her clenching pussy with cum.

She collapsed against him, her body slick with sweat, her breathing heavy. He could feel her heart pounding wildly as her breasts pressed against his chest.

Rolling off of him, she gasped, “Sorry about that, I just couldn’t take it anymore. I had to have you inside me.”

“Next time I want to tease you, I’ll have to remember to tie you up first,” he joked, pulling her close to him.

“Mmmmmm…that could be fun,” she smiled. “Just give me a couple of days, OK?” she asked, her hand trailing down his stomach to his limp cock, stroking it gently. Feeling it stir in her hand, she slid down his body. With his hardening organ poised at her lips, she purred, “I would love to beg for your big dick in my ass.”

He groaned, images of her tied up, begging for him to fuck her flooding his mind as her warm mouth closed around his cock.

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Twenty minutes into her first date with the man she contacted on the electronic dating site that she used to get laid when the spirit moved her, Kathryn Udall was afraid she was losing her keen sense of intuition.

Kathy was unlike many women in the electronic forum in that she made no bones about her ultimate intentions. She wasn’t looking for a “soulmate” or someone to hold hands with on the beach at sunset.

Nope, she was looking for cock.

It was refreshing, really, and not surprisingly, most men that she contacted via the Net shared her enthusiasm for a “friends with benefits” situation until each one got tired of the other, or as Kathryn phrased it, “simultaneous buh-byes.” Some of her relationships lasted last than a hour, some several weeks at best, but Kathy didn’t need the emotional burden of a traditional “boyfriend” at the age of fifty-one.

Nope, she needed dick. And it was usually available at the click of a mouse. Because Kathy Udall was about as smokin’ as a woman over fifty could get. Five-feet-four, 118 pounds soaking wet (which she usually was), short blond hair, light green cat-like eyes, and a ‘come-fuck-me ‘smile that would have made Mae West look prudish by comparison.

She’d been “separated” from her husband of over two decades for almost a year now, and as Kathy would chuckle to herself, if a woman’s profile listed “recently separated” as their status, well, that was a synonym for “needs to get fucked, now”. There might as well have been a symbol on such profiles of a yawning, sopping pussy to further emphasize what the “recently separated” were seeking.

In her year of playing on what she affectionately called ‘match dot cum’, Kathy could pretty much flush out those men who were ready, willing and able (which wasn’t difficult). But more so, Kathy was also discerning enough to hook up with quality men only, at least from her perspective. And that meant well-to-do and discrete. Kathy Udall didn’t need the world to know her dalliances, Besides, it was daring enough that she had recently contacted a photographer who had posted a portfolio of Kathy’s pictures on a modeling web page, and some were rather risque for a fifty-one-year-old perceived pillar of Lehigh Valley society.

The photos were what Kathy had used as bait in recent months to seal the deal. She had a particular set of photos that she would e-mail to men after some initial chatting and flirting, and by then, the men were inevitably putty in her hands. Most suggested a first date at a hotel, and there were a few offers that Kathy had accepted and they thoroughly enjoyed the eight-hour shift work of sex.

But this man, well, either Kathryn had badly misjudged this man or she was losing her touch,and she failed to believe the latter could be true. He had insisted on meeting for coffee on a weekday afternoon for a first meeting, and hadn’t yet mentioned nor acknowledged the e-mail attachment she had sent to him that showed various photos of what Kathy knew was her best feature.

Her tight fifty-one year-old butt. Bare as a baby’s behind, out there in all of its photogenic glory.

Kathy was about to terminate this meeting prematurely as she sipped on her grande mocha-something-decaf. He was nice enough, true, and more than easy on the eyes, but his complete lack of provocative conversation told Kathy that maybe this man was one of those who wasn’t interested in just a quick roll in the hay as an ice-breaker.

“You know,” she said, glancing at her Movado wristwatch and starting to rise from her chair, “I should probably be going soon, John. I hate to be so blunt, but, well, I kind of know in a hurry if there’s any chemistry, and I just don’t think we’re a match. It’s been nice meeting you, though,and good luck in your……..”

“Why did you show me your ass, Kathryn?” he asked quietly in the same monotone voice he had used all afternoon. No excitement, no betrayal of emotion.

Kathy sat back down in her chair, placing her perfectly manicured hands on the thighs of her designer jeans. This had captured her attention. Had she heard him correctly. “Excuse me?”, she asked, unaware that her face had flushed perceptibly.

The man that she had met less than a half hour sipped on his green tea. “Your ass. Why did you send me pictures of your naked ass, Kathryn? You hadn’t even met me. Do you do that to all of the men you meet on-line?”

No man had ever asked that question before, that was for sure. Hell, Kathy thought, no man gave a shit what I sent to other men, did they?

Kathy fidgeted, not knowing exactly how to answer that question now that it was posed pointedly. it was a good question. What WAS she hoping to achieve, really? “Well, I, um, I wanted to..I guess, …….hmmm, I don’t know.” She was blushing now, despite herself. She felt a bit like a chastised schoolgirl and didn’t know quite why.

“You don’t know?” John chuckled into his cup and shook his head as if he wasn’t going to buy that answer. For the first time, his voice became slightly animated, showing a faint adana escort indication of interest. “Not that I minded. How did you know I was an ass man, Kathryn?”

Kathy regrouped quickly, glad that their conversation was going in a direction that she had originally anticipated. Better late than never, she surmised.

“I suppose I wanted to tease you a bit,” she admitted demurely. “I liked you, is that so bad?”

John let the smallest of grins escape. His nose wrinkled a bit as he contemplated the compliment. “No, no, that’s not bad at all, Kathryn. It shows you have good taste in men, though your tactics are a bit…….odd, I dare say.”

Kathy again felt admonished, and she didn’t like it. Although she wondered why she had a warm feeling beginning to bubble in her loins.

“Odd?” Kathy pondered this. “What’s so odd about wanting to please a man that I found very attractive?”

“Oh, it was to please me now, was it? A second ago it was to tease me. So, which is it, really? To please…or to tease?” He nibbled on his cup with his full lower lip, which Kathy found interminably sexy. “There’s a big difference, you know. Between teasing and pleasing, that is. So, which is it? Are you a pleaser, or a teaser?”

He stood up from his chair and reached for his sports jacket, which had been hanging casually from the back of his chair. “Inquiring minds want to know, Kathryn. C’mon, we can discuss it on our way out. Ya know, since there’s no chemistry and everything……” He let the words dangle in the acoustics of the cozy cafe.

He gestured for her to get up, and she did, silently, her head spinning a bit. Were they breaking up, she mused in her head? This was a record. Not even break-up sex…….?

He followed her through the coffee shop, navigating their collective way through the tables. His eyes were riveted onto her denim-clad rear end. It was a truly incredible ass for a woman of any age, never mind one in her fifties.

He had seen that ass naked, at least in a photo, where she was lying face down on a rug with a blouse sweater that was pulled up to reveal her entire hind quarters. Her legs were spread ever so slightly as he remember it, showing just a hint of her pussy and the puckered rung of a pretty pink anus.

And he knew he would have it. In due time. When he was good and ready.

Because, he knew intuitively that Kathryn wanted him to take it. And he was a teaser and a pleaser, also. Two could play at the ass game.

They walked to Kathy’s car in silence and stopped when they reached the driver door. She fumbled for her keys, and began an attempt to make amends. “Look, John, I’m sorry, I really am. Can we start over? I’d like to see you agai………”

“Kiss me,” he said softly, pressing into her pelvis with his own, right in the broad daylight of the strip mall parking lot, placing one hand ever so gently on her buttock.

She felt his bulge, and it was not insubstantial. Kathy was no stranger to cock, and a bit of a size queen. She was a lot better in mentally sizing up a man’s girth than she was his character. Maybe because she didn’t hang around men long enough to truly care about the size of their character.

“What?” she asked, sincerely surprised, glancing around the lot to see if they were being watched. But he noticed that not only had she not backed away, but she actually leaned her crotch into his ever so slightly.

His lips mover closer to hers. She could feel his breath on her cheek and his hand easing between the crack of her ass, pulling her closer. “Kiss me. let’s find out if you’re a pleaser or a teaser, Kathryn.”

They kissed softly, their lips exploring each other’s tentatively. It was nice, Kathy thought, the humidity rising in her nether region on this otherwise chilly day, and just as she was about to ease her tongue into his warm mouth, he withdrew.

He placed his hand snugly on each hip and twirled her around so that her back was to him now, and he brushed her blonde locks from her face, pressing his trouser-covered cock into her ass. Kathy knew immediately that she was in the grasp of a well-endowed man, and she moaned into his shoulder.

He lifted her face off of his shirt and put his hand oh, so delicately on her throat. “Now, this time, Kathryn, kiss me like you want to fuck me. Because you do, don’t you?”

Kathy groaned, suddenly completely impervious to the surroundings, his words opening up the flood gates to her pussy. She hung her head back and their tongues first danced and fought a sweet skirmish for supremacy for what seemed like minutes, his cock rising by the second as Kathy pushed back with impassioned arousal.

She reached down behind her to try to palm the large growth that was leaving an indentation in her denim, but he brushed her hand away firmly.

He released his mouth from hers and left her gasping and flushed. And wet. God, Kathy thought, I’m so fucking wet…………..

“Maybe you’re a bit of both, Kathryn. A tease who aims to please. adana escort bayan And perhaps I am as well. Kindred souls, perhaps.” Kathy leaned back again and raised her head to his, hungry for another hot kiss, oblivious to the public display of affection that was gathering quite an audience within the confines of the nearby coffee shop.

He let go of her hips and smoothed her hair back off of her glazed eyes. He stepped back, and it felt for a second that they might need a device of some kind to extract his cock from the crease in her jeans’ hind quarters.

“You’ll meet me for dinner tomorrow night at Marcello’s at eight,” John remarked casually, matter-of-factly. It was not an invitation, Kathy quickly realized.

It was a command.

He continued, though she was duly distracted now, fighting an overwhelming instinct to push him into the back seat of her late-model BMW and suck that glorious cock, right here and now. And she could have cared less who would watch. Bring ’em on, she thought, sell tickets if need be, give ’em a show.

“Very shortly, I’ll text you instructions with what to wear. And you will follow my instructions to the letter, won’t you, Kathryn?” He kissed her on the forehead tenderly and began to walk to his own car, a sporty black Lexus.

“Because you’re a teaser. And a pleaser. Until tomorrow, then.” He blew her a kiss.

She staggered into the car seat and slumped down, glancing in the rear view mirror at her tousled blond mane. She was literally gasping for breath. it felt as if a small wading pool had formed between her legs, wet, warm, and oh, so wonderful.

At each traffic light and stop sign, Kathy had to resist the urge to pull her jeans to her ankles and to frig herself to orgasm. She craved release. THIS is what she wanted, she realized. A man to control HER, a man to both fuck her AND to mind-fuck her. She was a very naughty girl already, but she needed a man to take the lead. This would capture her interest beyond just a hot fuck or three.

She had barely pulled into her driveway ten minutes later when her cell phone vibrated to signal an incoming text.

“Important details, Kathryn. For our dinner tomorrow, I want you to wear something special, something very particular, do you think you could do that for me? We can make it our first deal if you like.”

Kathryn shut off the ignition to her car and hurried into her house through the garage door. She didn’t hesitate.

“Yes,” she tapped simply in reply. That said it all. She had set the tone that she would be compliant, cooperative…..yes, submissive.

This guy could be a handful was Kathy’s first thought. Nevertheless, she was intrigued to hear his request. Only when his next text came, it didn’t exactly come out sounding like a request. It sounded quite clearly like the directive that it was.

“Wear a little black skirt for me, no stockings, bare legs, high heels, no panties, I’ll leave the top to you. The skirt has to be tight, very tight and short, way above your knees short. I want to see your ass.”

Kathy’s eyebrows by this time were just about embedded in her hairline. “You want what?” she wrote back, somewhat taken back, but mostly seeking further assurance to overcome her anxiety. And just why was she still so fucking wet?

His reply took longer than Kathy was comfortable with. She squirmed as she walked to her bedroom, shedding clothes as she ascended the stairs. Finally, the vibration, which coincidentally, came as she extracted her rabbit vibrator from her night stand drawer. Imagine the irony, she smiled to her self, aware that she was shaking slightly as she climbed onto her mattress wearing only her bra and barely-there thong now.

She had prepared her accessory items today just in case she ended up having a quickie with her coffee shop date. A girl can’t be too prepared, you know, she thought to herself, idly rubbing her nipples through the sheer material of her lacy bra.

“Just as I wrote. I want to see your lovely ass, Kathryn. After all, you like showing it to me, don’t you? I want to see the skirt, stretched tight over your very beautiful backside when you walk into the restaurant to meet me. I’d like that very much. It’ll be a game, like playing dress up… It’s quite simple really. We’ll call it The Ass Game. Do it for me.”

Kathy could almost hear his calm, authoritative voice in the text. The last statement was thrown down as a challenge. What’s not to understand? She had a clear mental image of his instruction. The man’s completely trouble, cute, but big trouble. For a moment, Kathy imagined herself panty less, her ass held tight in the soft embrace of her shortest, tightest black skirt, killer heels…her legs wrapped around his waist eventually, that was a given.

Her body registered the image too. She could feel her nipples pucker under her caress now and the familiar heavy feeling beginning to increasingly gather between her legs. In fact, she let her other hand drop so she could feel her pussy escort adana getting saturated at the image and his words.

Kathy used one pussy-juice-covered finger now to tap her reply. It was her last flimsy attempt at indignation, defiance.

“Tell me again why I’m going to play dress up for you, John. I seem to perhaps have missed a step in our mating ritual?”

She was on the verge of orgasm, her rabbit buzzing over her labia, by the time his response came.

“Oh, that’s easy, Kathryn. Because you like to tease men and because you want to please me. You want to reward me for encouraging you to do what you really want to.” Kathy sighed deeply. She could almost hear him laughing, mocking, daring her. His text continued.

“Because I’m a great tease myself and all the other men ogling you will be worth it, trust me. Or perhaps because you’re aroused and you want to do something reckless. Because if you’re honest with yourself, you’re fascinated by my proposal. Enough reasons, or should I continue?”

Trouble, with a capital T. But the more he wrote, the wetter she got. She was desperately fighting off release now, trembling, her pussy gushing nectar onto her quilt.

He paused for a moment letting her digest his words. “You know you want to but you’re scared…Kathryn, I don’t care why you do it, just do it! Come on, do something rash, maybe even a little dangerous. It’s not too much to ask a sophisticated woman like you, is it?” He goaded her playfully, he may as well have said she was too prudish and conservative to take up his directive.

She abbreviated her own self-indulgence for a few precious seconds to hit the keys. She had the rest of the day to masturbate, which she probably would do for a good portion of it, she thought.

“That’s ironic coming from a control freak!” She laughed out loud at her words. She sounded like an adolescent. She recovered, lest her text be misinterpreted by the receiver.

A little breathlessly, she replied, “Tight short skirt, bare legs, heels, you want to see my ass, heck, who doesn’t? Tomorrow, meet you at the restaurant, yep, got it.” She nodded to herself as if signing off a checklist and giggled a little.

“No panties,” he quickly corrected.

“No panties, check,” she just as expediently replied.

“No panties, Kathryn. Good, we have an agreement then for our first dinner date. I’ll look forward to tomorrow.”

Okay, she thought, I think I can do this, play the game, the “Ass Game”…hey, it’s got to be a game, right? He seemed serious about it though. The devil in her couldn’t resist a little dig, tongue in cheek and smiling wickedly, eyes shining with excitement, she queried,

“So, Mr. Control Freak, I’ve just got ask, what happens to naughty girls who don’t obey… I mean, follow your instructions?”

John answered briefly, somewhat ominously, and Kathryn knew to play no more. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll make the right choice, Kathryn. If you want to please me. And be pleased. So I suggest you don’t disappoint me.”

Kathy groaned as she signed off of her phone and came in an explosive rush as she plunged the rabbit’s head into her anus. She passed out and when she awoke, it was night time. She glanced at her alarm clock. Eight o’clock. Twenty-four hours away.

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

By the time the next night arrived, anticipation and her vivid imagination had gone into overdrive. Kathy was very excited and just a little bit scared of what she’d let herself in for. “The Ass Game, eh?” she muttered to herself quietly, rummaging around in her wardrobe. She spent a good deal of time carefully choosing her outfit, mentally going over his instructions, which she had repeated over and over in her mind.

“A little black skirt, no panties, no stockings, bare legs, black high heels, I’ll leave the top to you. The skirt has to be tight, very tight and short, way above your knees short. I want to see your ass.”

Those outrageous requests, delivered in such a cavalier though cocky manner by a virtual stranger had sent little shocks of pleasure straight to her cunt for twenty-four long hours. Her pussy continued to be coated with a slippery sheen even now as she replayed his words over and over in her head, enjoying their effect.

Checking the reflection in her bedroom mirror she admired what he would see when she entered the restaurant. Short blonde spiky hair, which she had professionally attended to earlier today, gold hoops in her ears, a pretty, lightly made up face, a simple V-neck white tee shirt, a hint of creamy cleavage visible. And, of course, the coup de grace. A black skirt that ended high on her smooth thighs, long, bare legs and her favorite black patent leather pumps.

She stretched a leg out toward the mirror, vamp style, enjoying the way the heels made her slim legs look impossibly long. “Beautiful, slutty, perfect for the occasion. Come-Fuck-My-Ass shoes. Shoes that could make a grown man weep, Kathy,” she laughed at her own far-fetched imagery.

Turning, she checked the view from behind. The skirt was tight, very tight, hugging her shapely ass, the stretchy fabric leaving very little to the imagination. She hitched the skirt a little higher and was satisfied with the effect. “All details in place, check,” she said out loud to her reflection.

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

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Author’s Note: Thank you for all the wonderful feedback on the inaugural story in this series. If you haven’t read Ch. 01, you may glean more of the ‘inside story’ in this one if you go back and read Ch. 01. However, if you don’t have the time, this one can stand on its own. I think you’ll enjoy it in either case. As always, feedback from readers — whether favorable or not — is always appreciated. Please vote and provide your comments! Regards, Average Bear

Chapter 02: The Trip to Washington

David Barry awoke with a start. Was that a dog licking his face? Surely not — he didn’t own a dog. Then he felt a hand groping his crotch through his pants.

He opened his eyes to see Tiffany’s gorgeous blue eyes searching his face. Her tongue was swirling around his ear.

He looked around at unexpected surroundings — the inside of a sleek, modern railway car. Slowly, his sleepy fog began to dissipate.

“Um, Tiff,” he said, wiping sleep-induced drool from the corner of his mouth, “isn’t this sort of a public place to be doing that?”

“Haven’t you ever seen ‘Risky Business’, silly? The scene from the train?” she asked.

Dave’s erection began to stir. It was a double whammy — Tiff’s gentle manipulation of his awakening boner, and the salvo of sexual innuendo that she had just fired across his bow. He knew well the mid-1980’s movie that launched Tom Cruise’s career. It was before his time, but it was a classic.

He and Tiffany had just consummated their loving, no-longer-teacher-and-student relationship the prior Friday night, after Tiffany’s high school graduation ceremony. Now, on Monday morning, Tiffany was implying that she wanted to have sex with him on the Amtrak train to Washington, DC.

“Um, sweetheart,” he answered, “THEY waited until there were no people on the train.”

The two of them were traveling as candidate and sponsor to the annual National Chemistry Contest. Their first class car was emptier than the economy cars, but there were about half a dozen other people scattered throughout the compartment.

“Dave,” she said, feeling wonderful about using his first name rather than ‘Mr. B.’, “this place may NEVER empty out. Let’s take a chance. And besides, we have a blanket.”

Dave looked down and found a pleasant revelation. Tiffany’s groping of his cock through denim was concealed from public view! A navy blue synthetic wool blanket was spread across their laps. Though it was the first week of June, the railway provided blankets for travelers year-round. Most used it for sleep — Tiffany had other designs in mind.

“You’re not just a ‘book smart’ young lady,” he smiled, “you’re practical, too!”

Dave leaned his head against her shoulder, trying to shake off the grogginess. He looked outside at the scenery passing by. The tracks were running through farm country. He loved the scenes from the countryside — green fields as far as the eye could see, dotted with white farm houses and old red, painted barns beside towering, dingy grayish white silos.

It was the time of year when the crops had recently burst through the soil. They seemed to reach for the sky with the elation of new life. Dave mused that he had a newfound sense of the same sort of elation. Tiffany was the sunshine that warmed his body and soul, causing him to spring forth — in more ways than one.

“Still deciding?” she asked, bursting into his wandering thoughts.

“Tiff, I’m your man. Like we decided the other night, whatever we want to do together is okay — the sky’s the limit.”

“NO limits,” she corrected him with a smile, this time giving voice to her version of the rules.

“No limits,” he agreed, “just no jail time. I have a feeling the school board would frown upon that. But I think we can manage to avoid prosecution.”

The pressure of her hand on his groin immediately increased. Dave wasn’t sure whether it was her hand or his cock that had moved — probably a little of both.

Tiffany likewise felt the movement of Dave’s prick under her palm. Her own sexual excitement was beginning to dampen her panties. But her sense of awe and wonder at this newfound freedom within a finally-established relationship also gave her excitement of a more spiritual sort.

Dave leaned toward Tiffany and kissed her gently on the crown of her head. The fresh scent of her shampoo filled his nostrils. He noticed the gentle movement of her golden locks as he released his breath. “Love is indeed a potent drug, sharpening each of the senses,” he thought silently.

Continuing to brush light kisses on her head, Dave moved his hand under the blanket to Tiffany’s knee. She released a sigh of pleasure at this gentle contact.

He began to slowly massage her knee through her pants leg. He then caressed her thigh, then slowly moved his hand down toward the crotch of her pants.

Tiffany instinctively moved her knees apart to give him better access. He proceeded to gently massage her nether region through her jeans. escort She began to arch toward his fingers. “Mmmmm,” she whispered to him, “that feels SO good!”

Dave was pleased to please her. She was doing a good job of pleasing him with her own gentle, manual probing of the front of his trousers.

“My little friend is dying to escape,” he confessed.

Tiffany’s hand, still under cover of the blanket, deftly unzipped his fly. She then unfastened the button at the top of his fly. He raised his butt off the seat to allow her to pull his pants and underwear down slightly down, just far enough to free his penis from its confines, but not far enough to show any visible difference below the hem of the blanket.

Their fellow passengers were none the wiser. Tiffany began stroking Dave’s freed erection. She felt like purring. He felt like cumming. “Not too fast,” he advised, “I don’t want to mess up their blanket.”

“So where else will would you like to make your deposit?” she asked with a glint in her lovely blue eyes, meanwhile licking her lips in provocation.

“Tiff — you don’t know what you’re DOING to me!” he whispered loudly through clenched teeth.

Feeling his cock pulsing in her grip, she replied, “I think I have a pretty good idea. About the same as you’re doing to ME!” His fingers continued to stoke her fire, though still muted by denim.

As if reading her mind, Dave reached up and gently unzipped the zipper of her jeans, then unbuttoned the fastener at the top. She raised up to allow him to ease her jeans off her hips. Both now were naked from just below the belly button to halfway down the thigh, covered by a light blanket on a very public train.

Dave wasted no time in travelling the path from knee to crotch this time. He reached his fingers straight toward her lower torso, grazing her landing strip before reaching her most sensitive spot. Tiffany knew what was coming (no pun intended), but couldn’t suppress a pleased sigh as his index finger and thumb caressed her vaginal lips and gently squeezed her clitoral nub. As she became wet enough, he slipped first two fingers and then a third deep inside her slippery tunnel.

Anyone sitting close to them might have notice the mixed aroma of their mutual sexual excitement. Thankfully, nobody was within four rows of their seat. The sound of her soft moans didn’t travel quite that far.

Tiffany’s eyes fluttered shut as she enjoyed an unhurried finger fuck. Dave, however, was feeling a more urgent need for release. “Better slow it down, baby, or I’m gonna cum on the blanket, right here, right now,” he whispered urgently.

“Where was it you wanted to make that deposit?” she responded gleefully.

“It’ll be too obvious if you stick your head under the blanket. Better have you sit on my lap — but not ’til YOU’RE ready.”

“It’s a long way to Washington,” she cooed, “we can take care of you now and still have plenty of time for you to play some more with me.”

Dave’s heart was as soft as his dick was hard. Here he had wanted to take his time to please her, and she was instead intent on pleasing him.

Just then, Tiffany draped her jean-clad leg over his. He continued to probe with his fingers and she continued to stroke with her hand. He slid a fourth finger gently into her loosened feminine slit. The blanket continued to keep the operation covert.

Dave glanced around the car. An elderly lady near the front caught his gaze and smiled at him. “Does she know what’s going on?” Dave thought. He breathed a sigh of relief as the woman looked down.

“All’s clear,” Dave whispered, in case Tiffany had followed his gaze.

Tiffany was unconcerned with anything but pleasing her man. She lifted her buttocks up off the seat to move toward him. She noticed that her rear end had stuck lightly to the fabric, and wondered whether it was from sweat produced by this pleasurable exercise, or from liquid of another sort.

Keeping the blanket in place and her leg draped over his, with her hand still gripping his erect penis, Tiffany positioned herself, facing away from him, over Dave’s shaft. She moistened his glans with a sexy rub around her sopping wet slit.

She turned her head to see Dave’s pleased expression. “Incoming!” she whispered as she impaled herself on his pole.

The penetration was fast and sure. He was in to the hilt in one quick instant. Dave and Tiffany separately marveled at their warm, snug fit. “I could stay here forever,” she coaxed unashamedly.

Instinctively, his hands went up to massage her breasts in affirmation. He was momentarily surprised that her tits were covered by her bra and sweatshirt. Then he remembered where they were. He immediately dropped his hands to his sides.

Tiffany grasped his hands and pulled them back up to her chest. “I don’t CARE who sees!” she whispered to him. She started to gently rock on his cock.

Dave was wise enough not to directly contradict her. He offered an alternative instead. “I have a better escort bayan idea,” he said, “and it will be more discreet.”

He moved his hands to the bottom of her sweatshirt, then raised them upward along her back, but INSIDE her sweatshirt. “Good idea,” she immediately encouraged.

He deftly released the clasp of her bra. “Even better!” she murmured.

To both tease and please, he didn’t go immediately for her breasts, but kept his hands on her back for the moment. He began a gentle massage of her shoulders, kneading the taut muscles. Her gymnastics activities certainly kept her in shape, Dave noted mentally.

Their gentle coital rocking matched time with his massage of her back. He kissed her, almost primly, on the back of her head. He then massaged further down the sides of her back, where her feminine curves tapered inward between shoulders and hips.

Suddenly and unexpectedly, the angle of Dave’s hands wrapped far enough around her torso to tickle her. A loud laugh escaped Tiffany’s lips. Six pairs of eyes were suddenly fixed upon them.

Dave froze. No rocking, no massaging.

He lay his head on her shoulder, this time not out of tenderness but out of deception — not to deceive Tiffany, but to deceive their fellow passengers. Nothing is going on here but a bit of innocent snuggling, his actions seemed to say.

Tiffany reacted differently to the sudden intrusion. Her pussy was already drenched from their progress thus far, but now she was absolutely ACHING with excitement and need as the other passengers watched them. She urged Dave onward with a wiggle of her ass, stirring his prick within her depths.

Dave was thankful that the other passengers seemed to lose interest quickly. Her laughter had stopped no sooner than it started, and perhaps his deception had lulled them into complacency. He obviously wasn’t hurting her, so nobody seemed to think it was their business.

Tiffany had not stopped her wiggling, writhing movements. In fact, they had intensified. Now that the coast was clear, Dave reached one hand around her torso to gently pressure her clitoral hood between his thumb and forefinger. It was a gentle press, designed to create an appetite for more.

He reached the other hand around the other side of her torso, inside her sweatshirt, to run a finger up and down the youthful but substantive cleavage between her breasts. Again, the objective was to make her hungry for more.

On both counts, Dave’s intentions hit their mark. Tiffany’s squeezed her legs together to increase the pressure on her clit, giving Dave a penile squeeze in the process. She likewise grasped Dave’s elbow, planting his hand squarely on her left tit, the more sensitive of the two.

“Lean forward,” she commanded Dave quietly. He acquiesced without comment.

“I set out to please YOU,” she whispered hoarsely, “but you’ve got me so stoked, I’m ready to cum. I want you to make your deposit — NOW!”

Dave’s gentle rocking quickly became as urgent as Tiffany’s wiggling and writhing. Bystanders be damned, there was no holding back!

He kissed her neck to express the tenderness his voice couldn’t produce. The only sounds were the squishy friction between penis and vagina, and the slapping of hips against ass. Both Dave and Tiffany were so lost in their enjoyment of each other, neither noticed the same elderly lady staring at their gyrating blanket with a sly, appreciative grin.

They were building together toward a mutual crescendo. Dave’s strumming of Tiffany’s clit and massaging of her breast grew proportionally to the frenzy of their thrusts. Tiffany flashed him an “I love you” hand signal from American Sign Language. Dave knew the sign, formed by the pinky, thumb and index finger. “What a girl — what a WOMAN!” he told himself.

Dave could contain his surging semen no longer. He felt the constriction, the pleasant throbbing, the rapid unfurling of imminent orgasm washing over him. “I’m cumming, Tiff!” he cried in hushed tones.

“Me, too!” she squealed, not nearly as hushed as her lover. And she was indeed cumming. Dave felt her constrictions urging him on to final release. His own climax spewed uncontrollably, shaking him to the foundation of his emotional and physical being. Not just a few spurts, but spurt after spurt after spurt. Had he been counting, he might have reached a dozen or more blasts of first his seminal fluid and then the dry heaves of his cock continuing to convulse.

As he felt her rocking spasms subside, Dave leaned his head briefly against her back. Finally catching his breath, he confessed to her, “Tiff, I can’t ever remember cumming that long in my life! Our first time may have been the hardest, but this was the longest.”

Tiffany was still in a hormone-induced haze. Her head fell back onto his shoulder, golden locks spilling past his ear. Her breasts still heaving, Dave knew that something special had happened for her as well.

True to his promise to continue to play, he began lazily bayan escort cupping and fondling her breasts beneath her sweatshirt. As his cock softened and eventually spilled out of her cunt, Dave replaced the missing member with three fingers. No longer in need of release himself, Dave spent the better part of the next hour finding creative ways to covertly give Tiffany additional peaks of pleasure.

Before they pulled jeans into place, zipped zippers, and removed the visual shield of their blanket, Dave found himself with a second erection. Tiffany gladly took him into her over-stimulated love tunnel for a slow, gentle, loving fuck.

* * * * *

At they left the train and walked through Union Station in Washington, DC, Dave’s gaze lingered on the back of Tiffany’s jeans. He loved the way they hugged the slim curve of her tightly toned ass as she walked.

It dawned on Dave that these jeans were quite different from the baggy pants and sweats that Tiffany used to wear in school. The style was quite sleek and becoming, no longer masking the firmness of her youthful, feminine body.

Dave pondered the conundrum of Tiffany’s complex behavior. On the one hand, she avoided being ogled by perverted high school boys, opting to wear frumpy clothes and thick glasses instead. On the other hand, she sometimes played the role of exhibitionist. She had offered up her bare ass for him to spank while she was his student. She had worn nothing under her graduation gown when she came to his house on Friday night. And she had initiated making love with him on a very public train this morning.

“Perhaps there’s a common theme,” he considered. As he mulled it over, it suddenly became obvious — the common theme was HIM. Perhaps she felt safe when she was with him, safe enough to throw caution to the wind. Whatever the reason, he knew he admired this new-found trait in her.

They walked hand-in-hand to the curb, each pulling a suitcase behind them. Dave hailed a cab outside the building.

While riding in the cab from Union Station to their hotel, Tiffany made an admission that didn’t surprise Dave in the least.

“Knowing that the people in the train might be watching — and that we might get caught — was incredibly HOT to me,” she confessed.

“Yeah, I sort of gathered that,” replied Dave, “our reaction to being watched was a study in contrasts. I was frozen and you were frenzied.”

“I couldn’t control it — or maybe I didn’t want to try. Did it bother you?” Her knitted brow displayed her genuine concern.

“It wasn’t your actions that troubled me. It was my fears. I’ve always been overly concerned about what people think of me, of what I do.”

“I don’t give a rat’s ass about what people think of me!” she laughed, “At least not what strangers on a train think of me. I care a lot about what YOU think of me. Am I twisted to enjoy the rush of possibly being discovered or watched?”

“Twisted? More like heroic! I wish I had the balls you have.”

“Um, Dave — that’s not quite anatomically correct. I distinctly recall finding a fine pair of gonads on you, and I sincerely hope you’ve made no such discovery on me,” she laughed.

“Goofus!” he chortled, “You know what I mean!”

“Ah, yes, my dear teacher,” she answered, “if you’ll recall, I’ve always spoken my mind, often to your chagrin. Perhaps this is the sexual equivalent of that.”

“Maybe so. Tell me more,” he requested sincerely.

She thought for a moment. Dave could see the light bulb click on in her brain. “The key is for it to come from a position of love, not from humiliation or perversion,” she asserted matter-of-factly.

Dave could easily accept her rationale. It was consistent with the theme that he had pondered himself, except he liked her version even better — it was rooted in love, rather than simply in a sense of safety.

* * * * *

“May I help you?” the smartly dressed girl behind the counter asked.

“Two to check in,” Dave replied. Tiffany was at his side. She glanced around the hotel lobby, taking in the atmosphere and admiring the décor. This was to be their residence for the next week.

“Driver’s license and credit card,” requested the clerk succinctly.

Handing these articles to her, Dave mentioned, “You might have two reservations for us: David Barry and Tiffany Criswell. We’ll need only one.”

Dave waited for the raised eyebrow. He received no such response. “That’ll be fine,” she answered, “our cancellation policy doesn’t charge the deposit until 6PM. You’re a full hour ahead of that.”

Dave had not been concerned about the deposit — he hadn’t even thought about that. He was worried about the appearance of teacher and student sharing a single hotel room.

Tiffany could readily interpret his cogitations by the expression on his face. “Silly man,” she said lovingly as they walked away from the desk, “there you go again, worrying about what people think. You shouldn’t give a rat’s ass. She doesn’t even know — and if she did, she wouldn’t care. And if she DID care, what does that matter to US?”

Dave squeezed her hand in affirmation. “Such wisdom beyond her years,” he thought, “now who’s teaching whom?”

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It’s my twenty-fourth birthday today. My birthday present should be arriving anytime. My brother-in-law Marco doesn’t realize it, but he is my present this year. Unconventional I know, but everything about my relationship with Tony DeLuca is unconventional, including the way we met. I’d been having a week-long affair with his older brother Nick while Nick’s wife was out of town. Nick brought Tony over to his house one afternoon to celebrate Tony’s divorce. The three of us had sex and I ended up leaving with Tony afterward.

I spent the next year with Tony. My college plans were long forgotten. We couldn’t seem to get enough of each other. Unfortunately Tony was addicted to pussy, and not just mine. I knew he had other women often. I overlooked it at first. He’d just come out of a fifteen year marriage where he’d been a faithful, devoted husband and he was ready to party. Newspapers and magazines were filled with pictures of the newly divorced, billionaire playboy with dozens of different women. Meanwhile, his meek little nineteen year old girlfriend waited at home in his sprawling mansion, hoping for some indication he might settle down with her. When I finally gave up on him and moved out, Tony spent the next several weeks begging me to come back. He even proposed, but I told him I was tired of the other women and I didn’t see him giving them up if we got married. Tony then proposed a compromise and I was intrigued, so I accepted his proposal.

We’ve been married almost five years and we’ve never been happier. To the outside world we’re a normal married couple. Our son, Brandon, is three years old and I’m four months pregnant with our second baby. What no one is aware of is that we’re both members of a sex club called Cazzo. This isn’t some cheesy nightclub with a side of sex. No, Cazzo is strictly for the elite, for the rich and beautiful. Tabloids would have a field day if they ever got wind of our sex parties. The club members range from actors and musicians to investment brokers, doctors and CEOs. And our secret club is guarded more closely than Fort Knox. That was my compromise with Tony. Sex parties three to four times a year; and on our birthdays, sex with anyone of our choosing. We are completely faithful to each other the rest of the time, and it works for us.

For the past few years I’ve had birthday sex with A-list actors that most women would die for. This year, I chose Tony’s brother Marco as my birthday gift. I’d lusted after him since Tony introduced us years ago. Marco and Tony are the same age, their birthdays only months apart. Marco is the result of an affair their father had with a beautiful African-American nurse. The elder DeLuca didn’t find out about the illegitimate son, who was named after him, until several years later. Marco didn’t spend much time with his brothers growing up, but they’ve become close as adults. He and Tony look a lot alike except his skin is a deep caramel color and he sports a neatly trimmed goatee. Marco’s wife Maria is just a few years older than I am but she seems younger. Her parents were older when they had her and had hoped she would someday become a nun. She not only attended school at the convent, she lived there full-time for several years. Maria is currently in Arizona caring for her elderly mother so I decided this was a good time to make my move.

I spent the morning with Brandon at the park before dropping him off with my folks. I had asked Marco to come over for lunch and do a photo shoot with me to surprise Tony for his birthday in a couple of months. Marco wanted me to come to his studio, but I told him I needed the photos here for what I had in mind. When I told Tony my plan he laughed and wished me luck. We jokingly refer to Marco and Maria as the beautiful, perfect couple. Maria’s dark, sultry innocence coupled with Marco’s rugged good-looks and devotion to his sweet wife put them on a pedestal, making them untouchable. Maria has been away for a couple of weeks and could be gone a couple more. Marco may be the perfect husband, but he’s also a DeLuca. If he’s anything like his brothers in the bedroom, he should be desperate for sex by now.

One wing of our large mansion, the party wing, is strictly devoted to our sex parties. The parties normally last an entire week and we alternate locations with the other members. Tony and I missed the last one because we were trying to get pregnant. I arranged our photo shoot for the master bedroom of the party wing. We have several video cameras in this room. I can’t wait to get Marco alone here. I had hoped Tony would join us later, assuming I can talk Marco into fucking me, but he didn’t think his brother would go for that. I know that Marco is reluctantly attracted to me, it’s just a matter of getting him to act on it…

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

“Marco, would you mind taking a few nudes? Tony would really get into that.” We’ve spent the past bursa escort hour here in the bedroom with me wearing half a dozen different sexy outfits. Marco’s dick is about to burst through is faded jeans, but he has been the perfect gentleman. I guess it’s time for me to take the initiative and see what happens. I start untying the strings holding my negligee together.

“That’s not a good idea Katie. I don’t think Tony would want me to take nude photos of you.” Marco’s feeble protest contradicted his hungry gaze. He couldn’t take his eyes off of me as my gown slithered to the floor, leaving me standing in front of him wearing nothing but a seductive smile.

“On the contrary, I think Tony would much rather have you seeing me like this than some stranger.” I walked over to the bed and settled back against the collection of pillows. Marco doesn’t say anything else, but quietly continues snapping shots from various angles. Until now he has told me where he wants me and how to pose – I guess I’m on my own for now. After a couple of minutes I spread my legs wide. “Could you get some close-ups of my pussy? I know Tony will love that.” I move my fingers down to stroke my wet folds, gently scraping my long manicured nail against my aching clit. Marco’s hands start to shake and he’s stopped taking pictures.

“I can’t do this Katie.”

“It’s just pictures Marco. I’m not asking for anything else. Unless of course you want something more.” I half expected Marco to leave, but he’s still standing close. That’s good. I haven’t lost him yet.

Marco didn’t say anything for several seconds. He is staring at my fingers between my legs. He swallows hard. He looks conflicted. “I’m so tempted. You have no idea. But what Maria and I have is special. I’ve never cheated on her. It would crush her. I just… I can’t do this.” Marco’s voice was anguished, but he still hasn’t moved. He’s standing right at the edge of the bed. His heart and body are at war with each other. I’m counting on his body winning.

“Marco, of course I wouldn’t want you to do anything you aren’t comfortable with. I feel really bad though that I caused this and you’ll have no relief.” I reach over and stroke his bulging cock through his jeans. He’s hiding a monster in there. I just hope I can get up close and personal with it. “If you want, maybe I’ll take care of this for you. No sex. Just my mouth.” I’m talking softly, very calm, as though I’m trying to soothe a child. I don’t want to break the spell. Marco hasn’t taken his eyes off me and I want to keep it that way. I slowly unfasten his jeans. As I reach into his boxers to pull out his impressive erection he doesn’t stop me, but his breath hisses through his teeth.

His cock is long and thick, and several shades darker than the rest of his body. My fingers lovingly stroke him before reaching down to cup his heavy balls. Pre-cum glistens the swollen mushroom head and I bend down to take him in my mouth. I swirl my tongue around, savoring the feel of him. The tip of my tongue probes his slit, hoping I can tease more pre-cum from him. I’m rewarded with a few more drops of salty goodness. I take him deeper in my mouth. My tongue flattens against him, massaging the angry bulging veins as I slowly move up and down his shaft. I look up at Marco and his eyes are closed. But he no longer looks conflicted. He looks like a man very much enjoying what I’m doing to him.

Marco’s long fingers thread in my hair and he gently cups my head. “Relax Katie.”

Marco is taking over and I couldn’t be happier. If I don’t get anything else from him, at least I will have this. I do as he commands, relaxing in anticipation of taking him deep. I reluctantly release his balls and move my hands to his muscular thighs, clutching them as he pushes his dick into my mouth. He holds my head still and bucks his hips as he fucks my mouth, shallow at first, then deeper until I feel his large, bulbous head push down into my throat with each thrust. I look up at him again and he stares down, watching his dick disappear into me. “You ok?”

He starts to pull out to allow me to speak, but I clutch his thighs, pulling him back in. “Mmhhmm” I moan around him.

“Fuck!” He whispers softly.

I continue to hum as I suckle in earnest, knowing he is enjoying he vibration of my mouth. I hadn’t planned to finish him off so quickly. But I get the feeling he really needs to come and I love that fact that I’m taking him there.

“I’m coming Katie.” Marco starts to pull out, but again I hold him in me. I won’t allow him to cheat me out of this. Hot, salty cum floods my mouth and I swallow furiously so I don’t miss a drop. I like the fact that he acknowledged me and didn’t close his eyes and pretend it was Maria sucking his cock. When he finally stops I reluctantly pull back. His dark cock glistens from my saliva and is still somewhat erect. bursa escort bayan I’m afraid guilt will rear its ugly head and he will make whatever excuse to get out of here fast. I can’t dwell on that though. I need relief too. I reach over to the night stand and pull a dildo out of the drawer.

This isn’t my favorite dildo. It’s only about 7 inches and smooth. Nowhere near as thick as I need. But it’s handy so I’ll make due. I lie back among the pillows, spread my legs and insert the bright blue phallus into my dripping pussy. I’m frustrated because I know it will take forever for this toy to get me off. But I look up at Marco again and realize I may not have to rely on the toy for pleasure. His hungry gaze is locked on my pussy. If I play this right I may be able to tease him into joining me. I pull the dildo out and use the tip to circle my clit. I rub it around and around, drawing his attention to my swollen nub, then slowly push it back in. When I pull it out my juices are dripping from it. I slowly push it in again, arch my hips and moan.

Marco still hasn’t spoken, but he sits on the edge of the bed and reaches over to remove my hand from the dildo. He takes over and slowly moves the phallus in and out of my pussy. Marco has always been a man of few words. So I really don’t expect him to say much of anything. Especially knowing that he has chosen to do this with me despite the guilt I know he’s feeling.

“Please make me come.” I whisper. My hips buck with his slow thrusts. The size and texture of the dildo is a joke and it does almost nothing for me. But each time he pushes it in his calloused fingertip brushes my clit, making it all worthwhile. More than anything I want to feel his big dick pumping into me, but if this is the only way I can get an orgasm from him I’ll take it. After several minutes fucking me with the dildo, Marco pushes the toy deep and flicks his index finger over my clit. I scream as my body spasms with release. The toy was a poor substitute for the real thing, but having Marco’s hand between my legs, giving it to me, made up for it.

Marco pulls the dildo out a final time and my juices gush out with it. He inhales deeply. “What the hell, I’ve come this far.” He mumbled so that I barely heard him. He bends down and brushes his lips over my pussy lips. I’m pleasantly shocked. After his earlier comments about Maria and his devotion to their marriage, I never thought I’d see his handsome face buried in my pussy. I say nothing as his hot, wet tongue explores my folds. I tentatively thread my fingers in his soft, thick hair as he eats me out. I want more than anything to close my eyes and savor the pleasure he’s giving me, but I can’t take my eyes off of him. He seems to be enjoying it as much as I am. He inserts a long finger into me, then pulls it out and adds another. I clinch him tight and buck against his fingers and face, letting him know how much I like it. I’m getting close again. When I’m pregnant it’s nothing for me to have at least four or five orgasms in a row, sometimes more. The contrast of his soft tongue and rough beard rubbing against my pussy finally pushes me over the edge.

“Marco!!” His name is torn from my lips as I spasm around his fingers. He pulls out and immediately begins lapping at me. His tongue works furiously, licking my folds, my clit, pushing into me. My hips thrust, riding his wicked tongue for all I’m worth.

Marco finally raises his head from between my legs when my spasms subside. “I need a condom.” He opens the drawer that I pulled the dildo out of.

“No Marco, we’re good, I promise. Please.” He only hesitates a few seconds and stands up to push his jeans and boxers off. He climbs back in bed, settling between my legs and reaches down to his thick erection to guide it into me.

My skin seems even paler against the massive, dark penis he’s pushing into my body. I’ve been with my share of men in the past few years, but having Marco inside me is beyond words. Maybe it’s because I’ve wanted him so long and he was forbidden fruit. I have to admit, it turns me on more than a little that Maria is off somewhere, naively confident in her perfect marriage, while her husband is here fucking me right now. Marco pulls out and I look down to see his beautiful dick covered in my juices. He pushes in again, filling me up better than I ever could have imagined. I like that he is fucking me slowly for now. Like me, he looks down at our bodies joining as he slides in and out of me.

Marco pulls out and reaches for the dildo we played with earlier. He pushes it into my pussy a couple of times, getting it good and wet, then I feel it gently probing my ass. He pushes it into me, holding it there, then reaches for his dick again. This time, when his dick enters my pussy, I would swear I could feel the thick head and every bulging vein ten-fold. “So fucking tight.” escort bursa He mutters as he slides into me this time. When he is balls-deep inside me again he stops. “You ok?”

I look up at him and smile. “I’ve never been better. You feel so good inside me. My pussy is wet just for you. Ride my tight pussy Marco.” My dirty words seem to spur him on. Marco drills into me. I wrap my arms and legs around him and ride his big dick for all I’m worth. Relentlessly he pounds into me. I come twice more and my gushing juices urge him on. His dick and the dildo fuck me even faster. I know he is close. “Fill me up Marco. I want to feel your hot cum inside me baby.” He pulls the dildo out of my ass and shoots his load deep into my womb. I cling to him as he rides out his release.

Marco abruptly pulls out of me and rolls onto his back. He runs his hand down his face and refuses to look my way. “I can’t believe I just did that.” He mutters to himself.

“Marco, it’s fine. Don’t beat yourself up over this.”

“It’s fine for you and Tony. He told me about your marriage. But it’s not like that for me and Maria. We both expect fidelity in our marriage and I just screwed that up. She would be completely devastated if she ever found out what I just did. And I didn’t even wear a condom.”

“Marco, she will never find out, I promise. No one other than me, you and Tony will know about this. As for the condom, I’m four months pregnant, so you coming inside me was fine, better than fine to tell the truth.” I chuckled. “And Tony and I are both clean, we’re tested monthly due to our membership in Cazzo.”

Marco’s next words surprised me. “Maria is pregnant too. She’s also about four months along. She lost the baby she was carrying a few years ago and it’s taken her this long to get pregnant again. So we haven’t had sex since she found out about the baby two months ago. She doesn’t want to take a chance on anything happening to this one.”

My heart went out to him. I can’t even imagine the pain of suffering a miscarriage, and the worry over whether this baby can make it full term. And now his guilt about fucking me. There is no doubt in my mind that this never would have happened if his circumstances were different. “I’m so sorry Marco. I had no idea. But I can’t stress enough, this will never get back to Maria, you have my word.” To this day, my sister-in-law Julia never found out that Nick and I had a week-long affair while she was out of town. I love both of my brothers-in-law too much to jeopardize their marriages.

“This is just a one-time thing Katie. It will never happen again.”

“Of course Marco, I understand. You can’t risk coming over here again. But since you’re already here now and the deed is done, maybe you should stay a little while. Would it really matter, in the grand scheme, if we have sex again while you’re here? It would just help you work out your sexual frustration, so you can focus on Maria and the baby with no stress when she comes back.” I slip my hand down and cup his balls. His cock starts to jerk as I gently tease him. He reaches over and runs a calloused finger down my wet slit.

“Maybe one more time…”

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

Marco ended up staying with me well into the evening. We fucked three more times that day. He was the best birthday present I’ve had so far. Tony never joined us but he and I watched the recording of me and Marco the next day and he fucked me five times just to one-up his brother.

True to his word, Marco never had sex with me again after that day. I don’t know if Maria finally got past her fear that sex would harm their baby, or if he decided to tough it out. Their son, Matthew was born two weeks before our daughter, Brianna.

Nick and Julia joined Cazzo last year. I’ve had sex with Nick many times since they joined. I hadn’t been with him since that week we spent together years ago, so it’s been nice re-connecting with him. Once we had sex in the same bed where Tony was fucking Julia. Gave a whole new meaning to family bonding. Tony was surprised that they joined the club, but I wasn’t. I knew Nick would be in his element there, but I had a feeling that Julia had some secrets of her own and Cazzo would help her embrace her sexuality. And I was right. Tony said she enjoyed more than a little kink and he made a point of fucking her several times during our parties.

Marco and Maria seem content with their son and their “perfect” marriage. It’s true that Marco hasn’t indicated that he wanted to fuck me again since my birthday a couple of years ago. But I get the feeling, based on the way he sometimes looks at me, he wouldn’t be opposed to being my birthday present again if the opportunity presented itself. My twenty-sixth birthday is next month and Tony has arranged for Maria’s mother to stay a couple of weeks with them to spend some time with her grandson. Maria was thrilled with Tony’s gift, Marco just glared at him. I’ve already invited Marco to spend my birthday here with me while his mother-in-law is in town. I haven’t gotten an answer from Marco yet, but I hope my sexy brother-in-law is planning to give me a personal gift again this year.

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My dear sisters:

I have been asked to give a history of my experience with Priapus, and my part in the revival of his ceremony. I trust that this account will not leave the walls of this sorority house. Here, as best I can recall and recount it, is the story.

When I was in college in the early seventies, it was a very different environment than it is today. We were all so much more innocent than girls are now.

I chose this college because it was, at the time, a very ordinary college in a very ordinary Eastern college town. There were six sororities then, each with a different reputation. There was the academically oriented one, for what would now be called “nerds.” And there was the one that catered to female athletes. There was also one that was rumored to be the “Lesbian” house and another for freethinkers and hippie-types. The girls in the fifth one seemed to think of nothing but marrying well, to the most affluent and well-connected dates they could find. And lastly, there was ours.

Our sorority was the “artsy” house, as indeed it is today. All the art majors and drama majors aspired to join it. When I was tapped to pledge them, I was so happy. I’d heard that their initiation ceremonies were a bit unconventional, not to say weird, but when I asked the “senior sister” about it, she wouldn’t give me details. She did say that while there might be some element of a sexual nature, there wouldn’t be rape. I would have complete control when I did whatever I had to do. I had to be content with that.

The initiation was held in the large room in the basement, next to the furnace room. I was led into the room naked except for a blindfold. There were five of us similarly attired. I was a virgin … not an uncommon thing for a college freshman back then, although almost unheard of today, I’m told. There was a short speech welcoming us, and then our blindfolds were removed.

I noticed that the other pledges were nude as well. We were very self-conscious of our nakedness, holding our arms in front of our breasts in an attempt to preserve some of our modesty. I was particularly self-conscious about my nipples, which were (and still are) extraordinarily long and get hard with the slightest stimulation.

The other members of the sorority were also naked, but displayed little of our modesty. Indeed, most of them were masturbating themselves, bringing themselves to sexual arousal, for reasons I couldn’t yet guess. The senior sister, an arts major named Esther, had enormous breasts, which weren’t remarkable to me except for the fact that she had a ring in her left nipple. Several of the other women had tattoos in areas that were concealed by everyday clothing. These things were quite rare back then, particularly among upper-middle-class white women. I wondered nervously if I was going to be tattooed or pierced as well, as part of the rite, but then I noticed that some women didn’t seem to have any such adornments.

Somebody passed around a bottle and I took a swig from it. It was a strong sweet wine. The bottle was followed by a fat marijuana cigarette. When I hesitated, one of the older sisters said, “Go ahead. It’ll be OK. It’ll help you through the rite.” Then she took a hit from it, inhaling deeply as she shook her long brunette hair. She handed it to me with a smile, and I sucked in the pungent smoke. Luckily, I’d smoked a few cigarettes by that age, and was able to retain the smoke without discomfort. I exhaled, and felt the effects of the drug seep over me.

We were led over to an area dominated by a large object, the size of a sofa, draped in a sheet. Joan, one of the junior sisters, grabbed the sheet by the hem while the Esther intoned the ritual of initiation. It was the usual stuff about swearing fealty and devotion to your fellow sisters, and promising never to reveal the secrets of the sorority, and so on. We all murmured our agreement to these terms. And then Joan whisked the sheet away.

This exposed a statue of a recumbent satyr, carved in gleaming white marble, polished to a high sheen. He lay on his back, propped up on his elbows, his head thrown back and his mouth open. But one part was not gleaming white, but a sort of rusty brown. It was his phallus. It was long and slender and very dark in color, and the brown stain extended down into his groin. It had a gentle curve, and an oversized head, about the size of a golf ball. The outside of the statue’s hips was also dirtier then the rest of the statue, a sort of cream color, and it was polished to a smoothness even greater than the rest of the statue.

“Behold Priapus!” Esther said. “He will accept you into our company. Submit to him, as I do!” With that, she straddled the statue, situated her vulva directly over its crotch, and impaled herself on the phallus. Meanwhile the other girls were chanting:

“Priapus, accept our sister Esther.

She is your willing servant.

She consummates her devotion to you with her body.

Grant her beauty, grant her luck, grant her your protection.”

Esther masturbated herself burdur escort on the statue’s phallus for the entire duration of the chant. Then she relinquished her position to the next most senior girl. The chant was repeated word for word, except for the substitution of each girl’s name for Esther’s. When it was done, it proceeded down the line until all the sisters had coupled with the statue. One of the girls was menstruating, and pulled out her bloody tampon before coupling with the god. I suddenly realized why the phallus was brown: it was stained by countless years of the blood of menstruating women. And, no doubt, the blood of countless maidenheads being torn.

One of which was to be mine. I was still a virgin. “So this is how I’m to lose my cherry,” I thought. Well, better now than never. At least I would have something to show for it … through initiation into a company of fellow artists whose respect I craved, instead of being fucked by some jerk who didn’t know when to stop. And I realized that when I finally made love to a man, I need not fear the pain of having my hymen torn. So I submitted. The effects of the marijuana were becoming more pronounced, and by the time it was my turn, I silently thanked the brunette. I lowered myself onto the phallus and felt that huge cap pressing at my entrance. And then I forced it into me. There was a twinge of pain, but the marijuana and wine made it more tolerable. I felt the cap slide up my vagina, then down again, as I gingerly moved my body back and forth, feeling the blood trickle down the inside of my thighs. I heard the girls chant “Priapus, accept our sister Virginia…”

And then it was over. I was next to last; the girl behind me saw the new blood on the phallus and smiled, and then performed the rite with an easy grace that showed us that she was no stranger to sex. I heard Esther say something like “That concludes the ceremony.” The lights went up, more wine and grass was passed around, and we initiates hugged our new sisters. The air was sexually charged, and some of the girls were pairing off with each other, while others went back to Priapus to fuck themselves to orgasm as the others hooted and clapped. I was feeling too uncomfortable to participate, but shared in the general good feeling.

Over the years, I participated in three more such ceremonies. There was no further discomfort, and I enjoyed the feeling of that phallus filling me as the girls chanted the litany. And, like many of the girls, I visited Priapus for private sessions of my own, independent of the initiation rites. This was usually when I came home from dates still sexually unsatisfied. I had finally been having sex with men, but found that once they came into me, their energy suddenly evaporated, leaving me still horny and eager for more. But Priapus would stay hard as long as I wanted, and never failed me.

I discovered that the phallus itself was not marble, but ivory, imbedded in the marble statue. That was why it didn’t have the cool touch of the rest of the statue. Neither was it warm, of course, but it seemed so in contrast to the rest of the statue. I would let my breasts hang down and rake the satyr’s chest, feeling the cold stone on my nipples. I would kiss that cold mouth, and clench and polish those cold hips with my thighs. Eventually, I found it easy to masturbate my way to orgasm on Priapus’s cock, perhaps inflamed by the thought that countless other girls had done so over the years, and would again in years to come.

But that all ended with my graduation. I moved to New York, where I took my new degree in Dramatic Arts to Los Angeles and tried to make a living with it in the film and television industry. I succeeding in getting many minor roles in forgettable movies and soon-canceled series, but never hit the big time. I moved back to New York to try my luck in the theater, with similar results. After a few years, it became apparent to me that I would never be able to count on my talents as an actress to feed myself. Instead, I accepted an offer of marriage and had two children. I found, as many wives and mothers did, that the pressures of my new position sapped my libido. Our lovemaking became less and less frequent, and eventually died out altogether.

When I was in my fifties, my husband left me for a woman in her twenties. I couldn’t really blame him. She was good for him in many ways, re-igniting his virility as I no longer could. Our divorce was as amicable as could be expected under the circumstance, and his alimony tided me through until I obtained a real-estate license. I made a good living at it, since it was at this time that real estate prices were skyrocketing, particularly around New York City.

But to get back to the story: a few years ago, I attended a sale of art … more of a flea market, really. Among the various things for sale was an object that was exhibited in a case with a tag that read “Ceremonial (phallic?) object. Provenance unknown. $250.00 OBO.” I recognized it at once. It was Priapus’s phallus!

It was just burdur escort bayan as I remembered it, except a little darker. It had the same slender curve and enlarged head that had pleased my vagina so many times. I noticed a long pin extending from the phallus’s base, an extension of the object itself. In contrast to the rest of the piece, the pin, or peg, was the color of slightly burnt cream and absolutely straight. It must have been shaped to fit into a corresponding hole in the statue itself.

I talked with the owner and found that he had acquired it about five years ago from another collector. He had hopes that it might have some archeological value but found that, without some record of its origin, it was useless. I offered him a hundred for it.

“That’s half of what I paid for it!” he protested.

“And twice what it’s probably worth,” I replied. “If you buy something whose provenance you can’t document, you always take a chance that you’ll lose money. Just be glad you only lost a hundred.” But he wouldn’t accept my offer. After much haggling, I talked him down to a sale price of a hundred fifty, and it was mine.

That night, I obtained some pot from a friend of mine in the community theater where I still acted and directed from time to time. I bought some cigarette papers from a convenience store and, with shaking hands, rolled my first joint in twenty years. I took a hit and found to my surprise that it was much stronger than the pot of my college days. Two hits were enough to get me really stoned. And then I had a glass of wine, lay naked on my bed, and masturbated myself with my new toy. I didn’t climax. Something was still not right; perhaps my libido had ebbed to the point where a climax was no longer possible. Or perhaps I needed the rest of the experience, complete with the statue. But my session with the phallus was still pleasurable and reminded me of my college days.

And of course, it got me to wondering what happened to the rest of the statue. That is how I came to be once again at the door of your house. It was summer, and the house was deserted except for the senior sister, whose name was Amy, and a few other girls who had stayed the summer.

It was Amy who answered the door and let me in. She was a buxom woman with dirty blonde hair and an easy smile. I identified myself as a sister of the sorority and she greeted me cordially, although she requested some verification. The sorority library had a set of yearbooks from my years, and I showed her my pictures, which she compared with the one on my driver’s license. Satisfied, she hugged me and welcomed me back as a sister of the house.

She told me something of the intervening years of the sorority, which were not good ones. At one point in the late nineties, it had actually been closed down for a few years, its charter suspended. The reasons given were drugs and prostitution.

“All that stuff about prostitution was bullshit,” Amy said. “But the drugs, that was real enough. A few of the sisters, including the senior sister, were dealing big time. Meth, acid, heroin, you name it. The college finally had to do something to convince the town that it was “dealing with the problem,” so it shut us down. When we got our charter back and re-opened four years later, it was with an entirely new set of members.”

“So there’s nobody whom you know from before then?”

“Not a one. You’re the first. I think that they all heard about the closure, and figured that it was permanent.”

“And all the stuff that was in the house? Furniture and artwork and stuff?”

“It was all gone. The college contacted a lot of the artists, and they came back to claim it and take it away. The rest got sold at auction, to pay for the legal bills. The only thing left was that old statue in the basement.”

My heart skipped a beat. “A statue?”

“Yeah. A statue of a faun or satyr or something. It was too big to move. I don’t know how they got it in there in the first place. Maybe they built the house around it, I don’t know.”

“May I see it, please?”

“Sure. But it isn’t worth anything, if that’s what you’re thinking. We had it appraised, and found out that it was a crude nineteenth-century copy of a crude fifteenth-century copy of a classical sculpture, probably Roman. And it had been damaged.”

“In what way?”

Amy snickered. “His dick is missing. The original had a big dick, according to the pictures we saw. But it’s missing on the copy.”

She showed me to the basement, and there he was! The same old Priapus, except that where that beautiful brown phallus used to rise from, there was now only a hole. A hole, I realized with a shock, into which my new toy would fit perfectly.

“That’s not the only thing we found in the basement,” Amy said. She showed me a panel on the wall, on which there was writing. But the writing didn’t make any sense; it was gibberish.

“What does it mean?” I asked.

“It’s a message in code. Tina … one of the sisters … cracked it this summer. Now we escort burdur know what it means, but it doesn’t make sense.”

“What does it say?”

“It starts ‘Priapus, accept our sister.

She is your willing servant…'”

“‘She consummates her devotion to you with her body.'” I finished.

Amy stared at me. “How did you know that?”

“You don’t recognize the words?”

“No! I never heard them before! Except from Tina, of course. What do they mean?”

“It’s part of an initiation ceremony. When we were pledged. You don’t do that anymore?”

“Jesus, no! This is the first time I’ve heard of this! Wait a minute…”

She produced a cell phone from her fanny pack and pushed a few buttons. “Tina? Listen, what are you doing? … the library? Look, can it wait? … You’ve got to come home! Right now! There’s a lady here … no, you don’t know her. But listen: she knows the code! … Yes, that code! … I’ll see ya. Bye!”

She looked up. “She’ll be here in like twenty minutes. Come on up and have some wine until she gets here. She’ll tell you the whole story.”

Amy was wrong; Tina was there in less than fifteen minutes. She accepted a glass of wine, and told me her story.

“I thought at first that it was just one of those letter substitution codes, the kind that you see in the newspaper. But no matter what I tried, I couldn’t crack it. I even programmed a computer to try every letter substitution combination, and got nothing but garbage.

“Well, if it wasn’t a simple substitution code, maybe it was a what they call a ‘tableau’ code. It’s pretty simple, too, once you had the key. The key is a sample of text, like ‘To be or not to be, that is the question’ or “The Lord is our shepherd, I shall not want.’ Each letter of the key corresponds to a number…’A’ is ‘one,’ ‘B’ is ‘two’ and so on. To code a message, you take each letter, find its numerical value, add it to the value of the corresponding letter in the key, and then find out what letter that new letter the value corresponds to. If you don’t have the key, it’s damn near uncrackable. But once you had the key, the rest is easy.

“But we didn’t have the key. So I went around looking for other clues. Amy found another piece of writing, in the same handwriting, on a rafter in the attic. It just said ‘Psalm 46. IVvi15’ Not much help, until I realized that Psalm 46 was the one that people think has Shakespeare’s name encoded in it. That made me think that the second part referred to one of Shakespeare’s plays … The act, scene and line number. So I tried the indicated line of each of Shakespeare’s plays as the key, and eventually scored a hit.”

“Which play was it?”

“‘Pericles, Prince of Tyre.’ And, as I found out, the only mention of Priapus in all of Shakespeare. It figured, I guess. Anyway, once we had the quote, the rest was easy, really.” Tina professed modestly, although you could tell she was proud of her accomplishment.

Amy finished the story. “So now we had the text, but the text didn’t still didn’t make any sense. We figured it was some nonsense that somebody had coded as a prank. Until you showed up. So what’s it mean?”

I began slowly, deliberately. I recited the initiation ceremony as I remembered it, and described the statue’s role in it. My audience of two hung on my every word. When I finished, the girls were silent for a while.

“So that’s it,” Amy said finally. “Whoever wrote on that panel wanted to preserve something of the rite. I wonder what happened to the statue’s cock. Maybe she took it.”

“I don’t know,” I replied. “But I know where it is now! I have it!”

“You’ve got it? Here?”

“No, at home.” And I told them how I had acquired it. “I think it belongs here, though. On Priapus.”

“We don’t have any initiation rite like that any more,” Amy said. “We just sort of made something up. But it would be so cool to start it up again.”

“It’s up to you girls,” I said. Then we all went out to dinner. When we got back, it was already dark.

“Stay the night here, if you want,” Amy said. “We’ve got plenty of rooms!”

“Thanks! I’ll do that! I really don’t like driving in the dark any more. How about the room on the second floor, northeast corner?”

“That was Sally’s. She graduated last spring. It’s yours. And if you want to take a shower, feel free to use my soap and towels and stuff. They’re already up there.”

That night, before I went to bed, I decided to take up her invitation. Having no robe, I walked naked through the house into the bathroom. The shower area had been remodeled since my days there … instead of several shower cubicles, there was now a single space with six shower heads. Amy was already under one of them. And so was Tina.

They were embracing as I walked in. When they saw me, they guiltily looked up, but I smiled and motioned them to continue what they were doing. They smiled back and continued their embrace. I wetted myself down and began soaping up, and then I felt a hand on my back.

“Let me get your back, Ginny,” I heard Amy say. And then Tina was there, soaping my front. Tina was much shorter than I was, with plump breasts and a thick waist. Her mons was shaved and she had a labial ring. She lifted my breasts. “Wow, Ginny! Those are the longest nips I’ve ever seen! Amy, look at these!”

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