His and Hers

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Amateur

HIS

As you slip out of bed, you look over at my sleeping body and smile. You’re a little sore from last night’s romp, but even so, your pussy tingles a bit remembering me inside you. Images of me taking you from behind while I teased your ass with my fingers flash through your mind.

You move quietly to the shower and feel the hot water spraying the sweat away. With a little soap, your hands glide over your skin. Your eyes are closed thinking of last night. Getting clean doesn’t take long, but the hot water feels exquisite on your skin. You know I’m only a few yards away, but your fingers reach down. It’s as if you can’t stop them. You lean against the shower wall and find that most delicate spot with two fingers.

The sensation of the hot water, the memory of me devouring your kisses, and you rubbing your clit pushes you over the edge very quickly. Feeling slightly guilty that I’m in the next room, you struggle to stay quiet as your knees tremble. Your climax washes over you quickly and then it’s over. It’s you and the streaming hot water again.

One last rinse and you step out of the shower. Reaching for a towel, you recall I normally hand you one. It doesn’t take long to dry off, but the coarse hotel towel feels good on your hard nipples and soft skin.

You turn the light off and tiptoe to the side of the bed. Pulling your wet hair to the side, you kiss my sleeping face and whisper, “Hey handsome. I was lonely in the shower and played without you, but I need more.”

In the dark you sense more than see my half smile. I pull you on top of me and kiss you deeply, tasting your lips with my tongue and teeth. In a moment or two I’m fully awake and I throw the pillows to the floor where our clothes are tangled up. Then you feel me guiding you to my face. You shift to straddle my face and lean against the headboard.

My lips graze your clit and you realize this is what you needed in the shower. Instinctively, you sink a bit lower and my tongue begins to wander. Leaning against the headboard, you grab my hair with one hand, pulling my face closer to you as your orgasm crashes through your body.

You try to hold it off, escort eryaman make it last a little longer, but that only makes it stronger. After a few moments, you move to lay with your head on my shoulder, tracing patterns with your fingertips through the hair on my chest. You whisper, “Good morning, babe. That is just what I needed. Is there anything I can do for you?”

I smile to myself and quietly say, “Sure. Next time you’re in the shower I want to watch.” You blush a bit but nod and close your eyes. We still have plenty of time before we need to get up.

HERS

We went back to sleep for a couple hours. This time you woke before me. I’m asleep on my left side, with my back to you, but even in sleep I stayed close enough to touch you. Moving up close behind me, you brush my hair away from my face and my neck, then slide that hand down my side, over my hip, around to my belly, and barely grazing over my neatly trimmed pussy to stroke my thighs.

I stir, and smile, feeling your lips against my neck, and scoot my naked ass tightly against your hardening cock. Your fingers on my thighs gently encourage me to part them. As I do, my right leg hooks around the outside of yours, bringing you even closer. You prop yourself up on your elbow and shift, rolling my shoulder flat onto the bed so I’m looking up at you. “Well hey there,” you say, with that sexy lopsided smile of yours. “Mmmm, hey yourself,” I reply, grinning back. “Something on your mind this morning, love?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, there is,” you murmur as you lean down for a kiss. Deep and hungry, that kiss, all lips and tongues and a little teeth. I love kissing you, and I give back in full measure. We’re shifting and rolling until I’m lying atop you, straddling your hips. My nipples are being teased and tickled by the thick hair on your chest, and I rub them against it from side to side.

Your hands are roaming over my skin, searching and teasing. My pussy is already soaked, grinding lightly against your hardness at first, but getting more insistent. I move my hips just right and you slip inside me.

We fit perfectly, like I predicted we would long ago. I start elvankent escort to ride you, and you meet me for each thrust. I’m still tender from the night before, and as we fuck quietly it awakens a dull ache, but in the best possible way.

Abruptly you stop us, your dick deep inside me. I look at you questioningly. You kiss me, and say against my lips, “taste me.”

I grin and whisper back, “as you wish.” I shift my weight forward, releasing you from my cunt, then begin working my way down your body, kissing and licking a path south, neglecting nothing on the journey. Collarbones, sternum, your sensitive nipples, solar plexus, belly, navel, hipbones….

By the time I reach my destination I’m not so patient. I’m desperate to have you in my mouth. Your flesh is wet from my juices, and when I take you in I can taste us both. You feel so good in my mouth and my hands, velvet over iron. I take you all the way in, until you’re hard against the back of my throat and my nose is buried in your belly, and start to move, fucking you deep with my mouth, giving suction at the right times, pausing now and then to pay extra attention to the head and on the underside where the nerves are densest.

Your fingers are tangled in my hair, driving me, showing me what you need. I’m supporting myself with one hand, and stroking your thighs and your balls with the other. I feel them start to tighten up, letting me know you’re getting close, when, suddenly, you stop me again.

Smiling at my bewildered expression, you sit up, take my face in your hands, and kiss me softly. “Trust me?” you ask. “You know I do,” I reply quietly.

You stand us both up, facing each other, and pull me close for another deep, hungry kiss. I can feel your hardness pressed against my belly. I don’t know what you’re planning, but the anticipation is killing me.

The kiss ends. You nod toward the bed. “Hands and knees, baby,” you say softly. I shoot you a grin and acquiesce. You climb up behind me, your hands sliding over my skin. “These curves…” you murmur. Then you slide two fingers inside me. I’m so very hot and wet, my body clenches onto you. etimesgut escort You tease me a bit, your fingers coated generously with my juices, before removing them and guiding your length to fill me in one smooth motion.

I let out a low moan and lean back against you, urging you to fuck me. You start an easy rhythm, anchoring one hand to my hip. Using the slick fingers on the other you begin to tease my ass, gentling me, just like you did last night, easing first one finger then another into my impossibly tight ass as I relax and accept you.

You almost abandon your course and finish us both, but you have other plans. You withdraw your dick from my cunt, and your fingers from my ass. I let out a whimper of loss, but you just say, “hush, baby.” Slowly, gently, you place the head of your dick against my ass. It’s still sopping wet from my pussy, and you ease your way in a little at a time. Your hands are stroking my back, my hips, and the curve of my behind as you encourage me to relax. I am, best I can, as you stretch my virgin ass to accommodate you.

Finally you’re in all the way. You pause, letting my body adjust. You tell me to reach down and rub my pussy, and I comply. That’s when you start to move, taking me slowly, taking all your willpower to stay that way, when what you really want to do is fuck me senseless.

At last my body starts to really relax and adjust, and I start to fuck you back, leaning into every thrust, playing with my drenched pussy all the while. We move a little faster, then a little faster. We’re both almost there. Then the overload of sensation wins, and I start to cum, burying my face in the bed so the rest of the hotel can’t hear me cry out, and you start fucking me like you really want to, using me, wringing me out, my body clenching and twitching around you, until you explode deep inside me.

We come crashing down… legs shaking, breathing hard and shallow. You tenderly pull your cock out of my ass and lay down full length on top of me, both of us trying to catch our breath as we come down. You’re kissing my neck, whispering things in my ear I can’t quite make out. I think maybe I hear “my girl…” and I smile and say “mmhmmm.”

You finally roll off me, and I get up on one elbow to face you. You smile that delicious crooked smile, and say, “Good morning!” “mornin’ baby,” I reply, leaning forward, and kissing your lips softly. “We need a shower.”

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Ann’s Enlightenment Ch. 03

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Asian

This concludes their story, a loving event, followed by a highly challenging one. They seek help to take them forward in understanding their reactions to a weekend which has been a rollercoaster of emotions for them both.

The future is open.

No adultery, no swapping.

The next morning Ann awoke and reluctantly, very slowly removed David’s arm from around her. He was still clutching her breast. She sneaked away to the bathroom where the shower revitalised her. Her mind was playing last evening back. She couldn’t believe she had been fucked in an alley and given him a blowjob outside in the club car park. As she thought of the lustful stares while on the dancefloor she didn’t know if it was the water or her thoughts making her pussy so wet.

She prepared herself fully and slipped into her nurse’s uniform. She hoped David would like it. She knew he loved satin but the fact the top had poppers to release her breasts should arouse him further. He would find the panties interesting she thought.

She felt conflicted over David’s interaction with Brian. On one hand Brian might have called the Police. On the other he certainly deserved what he got. She had warned him! David was her hero so he needed to be checked out.

She made them tea and brought it to their bedroom. David was just waking up when Ann returned. “This hospital sure looks after their patients,” he warmly teased.

“You need to replace the fluids you lost yesterday, sir. Once you have I shall examine you for further injuries,” the professional nurse replied.

As they drank their tea, David held Ann close. The effect of the uniform on him became obvious very quickly. “I see there is even more to examine,” nurse Ann commented.

“I think I better give a urine sample first,” David countered. He headed off and had a quick shower though he suspected, like yesterday, he may need one again soon.

When he returned Ann had him lying down flat on the bed. If she was just examining his hands, “why?” he thought but did as he was directed.

Ann moved to his head and straddled him. She lowered her pantie covered pussy onto his mouth. He watched incredulously as she did so. This was so unlike Ann. He heard her say, “I shall begin the examination.”

He felt her take his left hand so he used the other to examine her right breast. “Men!” she said crossly, batting it away. As she did, she rubbed her pussy on his face so he took the hint. He began to try and get entry to her pussy but thought the pantie would prevent it. The pantie parted. Crotchless! Ann had never worn such a pair before. Soon, he was lapping her pussy and as she moved, licking along her labia and rimming her bum. He was rewarded with more sighs of pleasure and Ann using his face more firmly to drive her to her orgasm.

He felt his left hand being raised and placed on her now naked left breast as she began examining the right one. He felt her nipple’s arousal. He used his tongue to fuck her pussy. Soon, Ann placed his right hand on her naked right breast. It was just as aroused. He felt her pussy rise slightly as she lowered herself forward. It was his turn to gasp as Ann took his cock into her mouth. She was playing with his balls and bum as her tongue wrote all over his cock.

As he allowed the sensation from his cock to arouse him, he recalled the effect being forceful with her breasts had caused. He began adding more force as he gripped, mauled and then pulled her nipples hard. He was rewarded as Ann moaned, very contently.

He redoubled his efforts on her pussy and clit. He felt her rise slowly and fall before rising again. This movement became quicker and more pronounced. Her thighs kept his face still as she used his face as a joystick. “Oh fuck, Oh fuck!” was all he heard before Ann drove her pelvis down hard onto him. He felt her body shake violently as she came. His tongue dived as deep as it could into her pussy, fucking her hard. Her body stiffened again and she cried out, “YEAH! OH Fuck!”

Ann settled on him as she recovered. Her hands were running slowly up and down his inner thighs. His cock was being kissed and nibbled. She was blowing on it. Instead of getting off, Ann moved and slid down to meet his cock. She grabbed it and placed it in her hot pussy.

Ann began riding him, reverse cowgirl, he later learnt. He was in awe. He could only hold her by her uniform as it slipped up and down her body. Her lovely arse kept his attention, highlighted by those panties. He watched his cock almost being used as a dildo by her. It was breath taking watching it appear and disappear.

Ann was increasing the pace and his cock was giving him messages that it was going to explode. Ann was vocalising her pleasure, telling him how fucking good it felt, how he was driving her to another. Those words drove him as well. His hips rose as he powered into her pussy. Ann didn’t give him an option to delay the inevitable. She used her cunt muscles to clamp down hard on him as she came again. He escort eryaman couldn’t move as he fired into her volcanic pussy. She collapsed over his legs.

They lay like that for a few minutes, both recovering, breathing heavily but highly satisfied. Ann moved around trying to keep him inside her as she cuddled into him. “David, I love you,” she said as she kissed his face and washed it with her tongue.

David was kissing her back. They had seldom been so passionate with each other before. He was thoroughly enjoying the new Ann. Even so, he was shocked to discover his cock had recovered and was wanting to play again.

Ann smiled, “How do you want it, my hero?” as she caressed his hardening cock with her pussy muscles.

David surprised her by lifting her up, placing a pillow under her bottom. “You want my bum?” suggested Ann.

“No, missionary. I want to watch you as I fuck you slowly. I love you. I love how your skin glows and how your areolas darken. I want to watch the sexiest woman alive cum on my cock. I want to kiss and caress you, your breasts and your nipples. I’ll end with your legs over my shoulders as I pound you to ecstasy.”

Ann could only reach up and caress his face with her hands. She signalled she was ready as she began humping him.

“No,” David told her, “This hero is in charge. My pace.” He gave a wicked smile. Ann relaxed and allowed him to set the pace.

Slowly he worked his cock all the way in and slowly took it almost all the way out. As he went in, he twisted so he was rubbing her clit. Ann was breathing lightly, feeling the sensations grow. “You’re playing me, every cell is in rapture.” She was moaning in pleasure, small gasps. Her head was moving in time with his thrusts.

As he leaned down to kiss her, she dragged her nails over his back and bum. He felt her desire for more power but he wanted to make love not fuck. As they kissed, he was gentle, caring. This transmitted to Ann who stopped trying to get him to speed up. As he tenderly kissed and caressed her breasts, she felt herself cumming from that gentle stimulation. She held him to her breasts as she came.

Still David moved slowly, he was watching for Ann to enter that zone of pleasure where they would be as one. It took a further twenty minutes, many highly satisfied moans of pleasure, endearments about her love for him, before he saw she was mentally in another world. He slowly increased his pace. Kissing and nibbling her ears, her neck, her breasts. Each repetition seemed to ignite more flames of arousal. Ann was beside herself, her moans of pleasure multiplying. She wasn’t coherent, just in sexual rapture.

He had never experienced the feelings he was receiving. Every cell seemed connected; lightning was flashing everywhere in his body. The heat from her pussy, her wetness, was driving him on. His mind was leaving this place. He put her legs over his shoulders allowing him to piston into her as he approached his own climax. Ann was humping back at him, till they were almost in a tousled frenzy as they approached their orgasm. They kissed in a fiery embrace as they came together. The feeling was as if they had fused together.

David collapsed on top of her. It was ten minutes before they could move. They cuddled together. The afterglow causing a number of aftershocks for both. They were spent. Neither could speak.

It was lunchtime by the time they stirred. Ann dressed more conservatively than the day before. Her whole body was still reeling from the extreme pleasure she had experienced. She had never expected anything like that. Her fingers lightly touching herself as she dressed, sparked little fires everywhere. As she put her panties on, she thought she would need to remove them. Her labia and pussy were still highly aroused. She saw her nipples standing proud, her areolas dark red. She felt herself glow.

As she looked at David, she could see he was feeling similar explosions as he dressed. She thought her face would appear like his, shocked, fulfilled, happy, extremely happy, bewildered.

They still hadn’t exchanged many words. A touch, a look was all they needed. The love they had was obvious to the other.

Finally Ann held David and said softly, “Wow! I don’t know what you did but I’m still catching up with my spirit. I love you.” She kissed him gently.

David held her, feeling her braless nipples cut into his chest. He had never experienced that either. He had only read stories about this mythical fucking nirvana. Now he knew it existed. He was still breathing quickly. He doubted he could get an erection again anytime soon. He had never been so sated. His mind sensed it was in a different dimension to his body.

The rest of the day seemed to fly by. They were seldom far apart, a look, a light kiss, a caress was all they needed. At night they hugged each other and slept like babes.

The next morning, David was surprised to see Ann fastening her stockings. Then he remembered they were to have lunch. elvankent escort He kissed her as he ran his hand up her legs.

“Later,” smiled Ann. She gave him her breasts to kiss before she put on her bra. While not overtly sexy, it was lacy and exposed some cleavage. Not her normal working bras. Her nipples were already aroused as they tried to force themselves through the flimsy material. The blouse had a few buttons less in use than usual. The colour of the bra meant it was just visible in certain light situations. She was wearing the matching lacy bikini knickers. Her skirt was shorter than normal at about four inches above her knee.

David thought Jonathan was in for a treat. He wondered if he returned to her office if he could eat her out on her desk. His cock was suggesting something more along a cardiac exercise.

At work, David’s mind was distracted, not only by the thought that Ann was flashing Jonathan but also the weekend they had had. He also had to think about his plan to punish her for her indiscretions with Jonathan.

Ann meantime was behaving normally. Well, while she conducted her business as usual, she did seem to have to visit other desks more regularly than normal. She would lean over some and Jonathan would see her skirt rise, the lacy tops of her stockings. She knew she had to discuss part of a proposal with Jonathan but would keep that until close to twelve when David was due to arrive to take her to lunch.

At five to, she went to Jonathan’s desk to discuss the several pages which needed to be amended. She was on the right side of his desk by his shoulder. The sun shone through the window illuminating her blouse and making her lacy bra visible. Jonathan couldn’t keep his eyes from her luscious breasts.

This is what David saw as he entered. His cock leaped into top gear as it tried to escape the confines of his trousers. He was glad he was wearing boxers.

As Ann saw him, she smiled, knowing what he was seeing. She let him approach as she gazed at his groin. She licked her lips. He was breathing heavily. She put her arms around his neck and kissed him, unaware that her skirt had ridden up exposing the flesh above the stockings. She could feel David’s cock against her stomach. He was hard.

“I’ll just be a minute darling,” she said as she finished her discussion with Jonathan. It took three but David wasn’t counting. He was watching her nipples expand, her blouse allowing him to see the areolas darken. Jonathan didn’t know where to look so just stared at her breasts.

As they left for lunch, Ann surprised him by telling him to drive to a small mall which had limited dining. She explained, “David, after this weekend, I thought if you use your ties to tie me up, I could destroy them. There is a sex shop where we can buy some restraints which won’t break. If you need anything else and wish me to leave so you can surprise me, I’ll wait outside.”

David nodded.

Lunch was good and David had a bonus. The seat was close to the window and the light illuminated Ann’s lovely bra and erect nipples. He saw quite a few men and a couple of women eyeing her up appreciatively. This was better than his fantasy.

Ann saw him look around and spoke, “A penny for your thoughts?”

David knew he had been busted so just replied, “Ann, I don’t think Jonathan will have left his desk as his hard-on won’t be down yet. I’ve been aroused all morning with the thought but the reality is far better. Even here, you have made many people, especially me, very happy.

“This is as far as I would wish to go in involving anyone else. I love you and want only you.” He leaned over and kissed her. He was so tempted to play with her breasts.

They went into the sex store. The assistant could see they were unused to visiting so offered to help them. David explained what they were looking for. After the assistant ascertained the level of restraint required she recommended several. They chose a set of four in a soft leather which could be attached to their bed and other pieces of furniture as required. They didn’t need a neck restraint or gag.

David sent Ann out of the shop while he discussed his requirements with the assistant. He was beetroot red as he said he wanted something which could add to the pleasure Ann had when her breasts and nipples were forcibly played with. He also wanted some things which he could drag over her skin to tease her as she was restrained. He remembered the need for a blindfold.

He came out of the shop with two packages. He handed one to Ann. In the car heading to her office he told her to be ready when he came home as he had described. Ann mumbled they had forgotten a blindfold but he told he had one.

“Can I ask what’s in the other package?” Ann asked.

David smiled, “You’ll discover later. The assistant was very helpful.”

Ann felt her pulse racing.

David being the gentleman that he was escorted Ann back to her office. As she passed Jonathan’s etimesgut escort desk she had to bend over to reattach a suspender clip. David’s breath was very quick, matching his heart rate. In Ann’s office, he kissed her. He wanted to lean her over her desk and tongue her to an orgasm, so she was primed for what he was going to do later. Unfortunately, the office was too open for that so he had to make do with some romantic kisses.

As Ann watched him leave, she dwelt on what he planned that evening. She didn’t know what she wanted him to do, what he planned to do. Was he going to be gentle, loving, demanding, forceful, dominant? She saw her nipples trying to escape her blouse. She was very aroused. After this weekend, she didn’t know what she was capable of enjoying or enduring or both.

She had never been in a sex shop until she spoke with Sarah. Even then, she had only gone in for what Sarah had recommended. This afternoon’s experience with David had highlighted some desires to experiment she had never known she possessed.

She was glad she was seeing Sarah tomorrow. The question was how could she speak about these events and tonight’s which were still to come.

How she managed to get through the afternoon, she didn’t know. Jonathan had finally asked Diane out and she had agreed. He said it was so he could get peace to do his work. He was blushing. Diane looked very happy.

When Ann arrived home, she bathed herself and made sure all her love holes were available should David want them. While she knew she was aroused, she was shocked at just how wet she was.

She placed the restraints on the bed. She debated with herself about attaching them but thought David would want to place them where he wished. Her mind wondered about what he had bought. She had seen the crops, whips, paddles and felt afraid of what they could do to her. Would he damage her skin, would she cum like Friday? If she did, what did that say about her? Near the restraints had been anal beads and butt plugs. Would he use them on her? Sarah had had her buy a vibrator which she had used to help learn how to give David a blowjob. Would he get one or more for her? She now knew she was capable of multiple orgasms. How many would be enough for him, for her?

She looked in the mirror. She had put on a red quarter cup bra which exposed most of her breasts. Her nipples were as extended as she could ever recall them being. The matching suspender belt and nude lacy top stockings. She had on tie-side crotchless panties in red satin. The colour matched her nail polish and lipstick. She saw she was breathing quickly. How could she be so aroused and yet so fearful of what David may do?

She heard the garage door opening and she gasped. David was coming! Should she meet him or wait? What had he said? Stand by the bed! She stood still and awaited him.

David came in carrying the bag from the sex shop. Ann’s eyes stared at it, in excitement and fear. What did it contain?

He thoroughly enjoyed the view which had greeted him. She looked amazing.

David smiled at her expression, so full of desire but her fear was evident. Was he going to beat her again? Was he going to take her to that magical nirvana?

He played for time. He asked in a formal manner, “Ann, I have a few questions I need answers to before I begin. Firstly, why have you not attached the restraints?”

Ann recognised from the tone that David was to be in control. She answered as though she was a member of staff being questioned. She would maintain eye contact throughout. “David, I thought that you would wish to place them as you desired, so they are where you need them to be.”

David nodded.

“Ann, how many times did you allow Jonathan to see your stocking tops and bare flesh? How many minutes did he spend looking at your breasts without you stopping him?”

“I flashed my stockings about twelve times. The only time he was looking at my breasts so closely was when you arrived. That was for about 8-10 minutes.”

“Did all the scheming work?”

“Yes, he asked Diane out. He was blushing as was she.”

“Are you going to tease him tomorrow?”

“No. We stopped after he asked Diane out. That was the only reason we did it.”

“Now my final question, are you fully prepared for me?”

“David, all my love holes are available and clean. I don’t know if I’m fully prepared as I don’t know what you intend to do. I will do everything I can to allow you to complete your punishment of me.”

David’s mind was going in a number of different directions. He didn’t know if he was pleased she was being so submissive or fearful of where that could lead. He didn’t think he was a sadist but after Friday he had concerns.

“I’m not going to gag you so just say “STOP!” and I will if you are uncomfortable with anything I am doing. Now, firstly, lie on the bed face down and lift your bum in the air. Open your legs to allow access to your love holes.”

Diane did as she was told. He saw the bruising from Friday’s beating on her bum. She heard David opening the bag and the next moment she felt the blindfold being put over her head and eyes. There was no light. She now only had touch and hearing to try to gauge what David was doing.

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A Restorative Weekend Ch. 01

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Acrobats

He arrived in the middle of the night, the wind howling off the estuary, salt-spray and the scent of ozone filling his nose as he got out of the car. It had been a long journey – both today, and what led to today. His heart was heavy with the conversation and the circumstances of his leaving.

This place was safe, despite the storm, despite the spring tide and the deepness of the dark tonight. A familiar sanctuary – a white clapboard cottage sitting low behind the sea-wall. This was an ancient place, full of memories, of lives lived and the coming and going of the water. A tiny outpost of homes – just three in a row, which stood defiant against the weather. No light shone from any of the cottages – he would be alone this weekend, as he had hoped.

He crept around the edge of the house, finding his way as much by memory and feel as by sight, found the key in its usual spot in the shed, and unlocked the door of the cottage, holding it back against the strength of the wind as he did so. Once inside, the howling ceased, making way for the whistle and rattle of the wind outside, and he immediately felt enclosed.

The house was neat and clean, basic, but comfortable, with two small bedrooms, a bathroom, small kitchen and a sitting room. He turned on the lights, unpacked his meagre shopping into the fridge, took out the one cold beer that he found in there and collapsed onto the sofa. Friday night. He’d made it.

His thoughts darted around, his brain still wired from the drive, from the rain and wind he met when he arrived. What should he do? A weekend to contemplate his options, assess his life. The stakes were high, emotions running to and fro in his mind. Enough waiting, enough hoping for things to change. It was time to consider what he needed. But there were so many people to think about. eryaman anal yapan escort What did she want, really? What did he want? Tomorrow. There was time for thinking tomorrow. The cold suddenly hit him.

And so, he set about lighting the small woodburning stove that heated the cottage. He found all he needed, exactly where it should be, and lit the fire, watching yellow flames engulf the kindling, the storm hungrily drawing whispers of smoke up the chimney. He began to thaw, warming his hands on the cast iron before it became too hot, and contemplated what to do next. A film, perhaps, or maybe his book. Yes. Reading, calm the mind, look after himself. He decided to collect more logs from the shed outside before the storm got worse, and braced himself for another stint outside.

The rain had stopped momentarily when he made it outside, and he walked to the shed clutching the wicker log basket. As he began to load it up, he noticed a dim light emanating from the first cottage. Curious, he climbed up on to the sea-wall and along. He knew the neighbours from weekends away over many years, wanted to check nothing was amiss.

Through the French doors at the back of the cottage, he could see that the light was flickering, a fire. He descended the wall and peered in. On a red sofa lay a figure in front of a raging open hearth. The light was dim, but he could make out slender shoulders, sleek dark hair, a blanket. He realised it must be Carla, Jim’s daughter, back from university. He hadn’t seen her since she left for Leeds, but knew that she had finished last summer. He tried to recall her face, to remember what she had studied. As he did so, he spotted a tiny movement. Under her blanket, her shoulder twitched and moved slightly. The blanket rising and falling as she did so. He saw ankara escort her stretch her neck slightly, her chin rising away from her chest, caught sight of her pale, beautiful face for the first time, her mouth slightly open, and he suddenly realised what he was watching. He felt terrible, he had only meant to check the house was safe, and he quietly made his way back to the woodpile, being careful to be discreet.

Back in his cottage, he took stock of what had just happened. A surge of adrenaline pumped through his veins as he remembered her both from moments ago, and from his memory of long ago. She had always been beautiful. He had watched her blossom as she had grown older, her large brown eyes, her deep voice, both penetrated him. He recalled her mischievousness, her searing intellect and her warmth at the same time. He couldn’t stop thinking about her, a sense of lust suddenly overwhelming his sorrow and anxiety from before. As the woodburner creaked and warmed, he lay on the sofa imagining Carla in her cottage only two doors away, the curtains open, the warmth of both their fires warming them, illuminating them.

He imagined her body, long and thin, her toned shoulders, the nape of her neck. He imagined her dark hair, straight and thick, twisting around her collarbone. He imagined her breath, now deep, now shallow, and her beautiful lips, her tongue moistening them from time to time. He imagined her under her blanket, wondered what she might be wearing. Imagined her small breasts, pert and lithe, and imagined her chest heaving as she became more aroused.

As he imagined, he noticed his own hand finding its way, almost involuntarily, to his jeans. He undid his fly and caressed his balls as he fantasised about Carla, felt as his penis swelled, enjoyed the sensation of etimesgut escort the fire warming him as he pulled down his jeans and boxers. She and he, both Enjoying themselves, both sheltered from the storm. What might she be fantasising about? He wondered.

His other hand began to touch his shaft, his thumb stroking as he began to slowly reach up and down. He imagined her hands travelling slowly over her beautiful midriff, fingers around her navel, lower. What could she be wearing? Jeans too? Perhaps just pants, her hand moving down until it found her soft mound. He imagined her gentle, low, moan as her fingers began to move in slow circles, stimulating her clitoris from above, and imagined her arousal spreading as she touched herself. He wondered about the details of her, the places that he would never see, touch, taste. Her labia, the feeling of slipping a finger inside her, the sound of her as his penis entered for the first time. His hands quickened as he created a picture in his head. He imagined her slender fingers tracing circles, her clitoris hardening, her skin darkening. He pictured her lifting her pelvis as she became more and more aroused, imagined her fingers curled inside herself, the ridges of her vagina.

He was so close to the edge. He imagined her climax only a few metres away, wondered if she was using her fingers still, or some other source of stimulation. In his mind, she had two fingers inside herself as she came, her other hand on her clitoris, her muscles spasming, her spine stretching, he felt his penis throb, his orgasm overwhelming his body and mind. He felt as line after line of semen landed on his body and he imagined his explosion on her body, her orgasm simultaneous with his own.

The fire was glowing brightly, and radiating heat around the room. He felt suddenly exhausted, the last few days catching up with him once more, the adrenaline wearing off. He pulled the blanket around him, and found himself weary and low, the sound of the wind and rain, which had restarted, offering a sort of natural lullaby, urging him to sleep.

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You and Me

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Asian

“Mm-hmm?”

I mean, who answers their front door like that? Like: “What have you got to say for yourself?”

Only someone whose smiley eyes and massive pout are more feline than aloof. Only someone who, right now, gnaws the inside of her cheek as if to hold back from bursting into song. Only you.

I’m pinned by your gaze on the doorstep, like you’re waiting for an answer. I hope my intentions don’t leak onto my face.

You and I have been ‘together’ for just one week, exactly, today — if you can call a declaration, a pint and a corny, delicious, kiss in the rain, ‘together’–but we haven’t sealed the deal, yet. We’re both still with other people and have promised not to tear each other’s kit off until we’ve properly broken up with our existing partners. We owe them that, and somehow, waiting to consummate makes our relationship seem more considered and less of a sordid fling. However, it’s 11am on a Friday in October and I’ve sneaked off work to visit you on your day off, and when you let me in and skip up the stairs to your flat, the bounce of your be-jeaned and bedazzling bum leaves me weak.

Even more difficult to resist is the part of me that’s certain we’ll be together for the rest of our lives. The part of me that knows without a shred of doubt I love you. It says, “What are you waiting for? Come on, let’s make the future!”

You stop suddenly to hug me on the stairs, up on tiptoe, even though we’re on different steps. After just a few days, albeit with plenty of practice hugging and snogging in the lifts, your firm curves seem to fit easily against me. I refrain from squeezing your bottom, and hope my hard-on isn’t too obvious against your stomach. When you pull away, your body leaves an imprint of itself on my front, and your discrete — no doubt deliberate — lack of a kiss creates another longing on my lips. You offer tea, at least.

We sit in your lounge, side by side on the couch. It’s chilly and the hot mug warms my hands and, I hope, will stop them trembling. You’re sat into the corner of the sofa, facing me, with a foot up on the seat. You’re dressed in jeans and a tight wool top and your hands don’t seem to shake. I admire your cool, despite the dangerous aura of cheekiness radiating off you.

I’m drunk on my luck. A chorus of jealous men sing in my head: A work-colleague who calls you “The French Sex-kitten”. A sweaty, smirking client who refers to you only as “Head Girl”. The scaffolder who, every time you cycled past him, bellowed, “Lucky saddle!” and who, when you pointed him out, was the first guy I punched since high school.

You sip your tea and I’m jealous of your mug and somehow you seem aware of that. You clear your throat. “What did you tell the orifice?”

Your nickname for our office always makes me chortle. I choke on tea. “Dentist.”

“Clever.”

Big glassy eyes flick about my face, as if to draw out more, but I don’t have it. Only half my brain is engaged because the rest is screaming.

Gradually, you tease me out and we talk. About how great it feels, finally finding each other. About why it took so long when we’d worked side by side for years. About this not being a fling. About going on a weekend break. Where we might live together. We even discuss kids–a big deal because our existing partners don’t want them and we’re in our thirties.

It’s as if we’re back in the orifice, in a meeting, scheming the perfect lives of perfect characters in a perfect story. I even tell you that I can’t believe my luck and that I’m sure you’ll find me very dull because I don’t go out much, and am just as happy in front of the telly on a Saturday night. You seem relieved to hear this, excited even. You really are my dream girl. As dull as I am, I cannot disinterest you.

However, we’re dancing around the real issue. The need to fuck crackles in the space between us. Ecstatic sex-static. Your physical presence tugs at my midriff like a new kind of gravity. You must sense my tension, because you scooch up beside me. You give me a little shoulder shove.

That’s all it takes. I put my arm round you, and kiss you.

You have a plucking, nibbling type of paddy kiss. It’s addictive, and I give into it like the you-junkie that I am. Your mouth opens. You sigh and I want to cheer. The slip of our tongues reminds me of the song: “Danger! Danger! High voltage! When we touch! When we kiss!”

“We shouldn’t,” I say.

“A little snog is ok,” you say.

“But it’s getting me madly hard.”

“I’m afraid that’s your problem.” You ponder my lap. You press a hand to the front of my jeans. I flex against your palm. “Mm-hmm…” I swear you can make that mean anything. It’s like a cat’s meow. You squeeze the outline of my pent-up member. “I quite like that,” you say, quietly, like it doesn’t count as betrayal if whispered.

When you look up at me, your eyes suddenly fill the room. We kiss again, and there’s need in it this time. My head whirls. You’re up on your knees, arms around my neck.

“Fuck,” eryaman genç escort I say, intelligently.

You giggle, swing a knee across my lap and, knelt over it, stoop another kiss down to me. I’m being fed upon, trapped between your mouth and between your legs. I love it. I give in, grab your buttocks and you settle you on my hips. You push down on my hardness. I push up against your softness.

“I could have a cheeky grind.” You wriggle. Your bottom half seems unconnected to your top half. “That doesn’t count does it? We still have our clothes on.”

“A perfectly normal, everyday thing to do,” I say. “I do it on the bus.”

You shove your fat tongue in my mouth.

My official girlfriend is a serious soul. She’s never come. Not once in her entire life, not even on her own, and is perfectly happy with that. She considers sex “weak and weirdly immature.” I’ve spent three years believing I’m the actual worst lover in the world. Shit, I probably am. So, as you rock on the rock-hard lump in my jeans, humming in my kiss, I feel like I might faint with desire and joy. You gyrate, find just the spot, and then you can’t control yourself enough to kiss, resting your forehead on mine, lightly panting. I squeeze your bum and push up at you and believe this is helping you get off, even though I’m just really enjoying the hungry chew of your hips.

You burst into a series of sweet snorts and then flop on me, tittering. The first orgasm I’ve witnessed in years, other than my own. I gulp, dead proud of the achievement, even though I had little to do with your climax other than providing lumps.

So you’re slinky and done and I’m pulsing in my shorts. Then you sheepishly cut me a glance and I realise — in the blush of your cheeks and the flame in your eyes — that you’ve only just started.

You tumble off my lap, back into your seat, tucking dishevelled strands of your tawny bob behind your ears. “Thanks, I needed that.” You take a slug of tea.

Unacceptable. My hard-on forces me up off my seat like the puppet master it is and shoves my mouth to yours. Our tongues are like little puppets, too. Dancing in a secret show, naked and loving each other up.

My hand slips under your top, strokes your back. Rough on smooth. You growl. “Too nice.”

“Take off your clothes,” I hardly say. Lips to ear, it’s just a breath, escaping like steam.

You falter. Stiffen. “Not here.”

In a blink we’re in your room.

Your bedroom: A mattress on the floor, and an old chest of drawers and lots of neat piles of stuff in dead straight lines. Your curtains are repurposed ethnic throws, nailed at the top and knotted in the middle, and you unknot them, dimming the room to a few dusty beams of sun. I yank off my boots and socks, watching you make the room private. The thought that you’re doing this so you can strip for me shoves my cock at my clothing.

We kiss and I grasp at your clothes, self-consciously, as if we’re in a movie. You step out of my embrace to make me watch you. You’re wearing, and then not wearing, a thin turquoise cardigan and underneath a matching t-shirt. I kiss your naked belly when you pull the t-shirt off over your head. Your skin is smooth and creamy, and very warm on my lips. I trace the soft crest of your ribs while you unfasten and remove your bra. Kiss a perky breast.

Annoyingly, you get the giggles when I try to play with the first secret parts of you I’ve seen. Your tits are so inviting, with delicate pink nipples, it seems a crime to leave them un-adored.

Barred from bare boobs, I kiss your neck, enjoying your soft, pale toplessness against my thick black shirt as you tug at it. But I’m self-conscious about my weight and — even though I’m certain you won’t care, that this is my own vanity — I don’t want to make a bad first impression, with my belly hanging over my belt. So I take my jeans off for you instead.

I reckon you just think me keen, and your hands are at the lump in my underwear the instant I kick my jeans away. Your grip tests my hardness, but also my strength because I want to come there and then. I pull off my shirt, suck in my stomach, and hold you.

The first time our bodies touch skin on skin makes us sigh and then laugh like idiots. Your nipples are knots against my ribs. Our hands explore naked backs and our lips each other’s necks. You squeeze my arms and my shoulders and say, “My very own Hulk!” I react like that’s a joke, but you’re so convincing that I really do feel Hulkish. Suddenly I want to chuck out all my mirrors and see myself through your admiring eye forever.

“We’ll tell the others later, won’t we?” You push me back. “Promise.”

I nod but your reminder stings. We’re betraying two people right now. Still, our touches — though new — have such a sense of familiarity about them, that I’m certain they prove you’re the love of my life. So this is natural and good. It’s our existing relationships that are wrong. My girlfriend calls me her “butler”. Your boyfriend calls you ankara escort bayan his “sex doll”.

And now we’re both half-dressed, and committed to stripping entirely, I’ve another worry: What if the sex is awful? My lacklustre relationship surely proves I’m crap in bed. My girlfriend calls me an oral perve. You told me your boyfriend was a great in bed but shitty out of it. What if you’re disappointed by me? Disgusted even? Next to your prim beauty I’m lumpen and basic. An elf with a caveman.

But even though these doubts grind my gears, my hips still rock at yours, and my Hulkish cock clamours to burst out of its cage and rampage inside you. Every bit of me is desperate to please every bit of you.

My cock must control you too, because you unfasten your jeans and wriggle them down your legs. Just what it wanted. I drop behind you so I can watch your buttocks pop out. You have, bar none, the world’s roundest, pertest bottom. You push it out to me, yank down the back of your knickers and jiggle. You indulge me in my cooing and squeezing and kissing, even though I’m probably enjoying it much more than you. Your skin is so soft I can hardly feel it even against my lips.

You turn to face me and your gusset is suddenly right there, in front of my face. I can’t believe it. After years of adoring you across the office, here I am, knelt at your feet while you push your still-knickered hips toward me, offering your most secret gift for me to unwrap.

My heart pounds at my ribs and for a moment I just can’t do it. Don’t ask me why. I press my thumb to your damp-bloomed cotton, relishing the plushiness of it. My dry mouth waters. You shiver.

At last, I peel your panties down over your hips, down your thighs, to your knees. I tease myself, sit back and regard you from your feet first as you kick your knickers away. You have very cute toes and strong ankles. Strong cyclist’s legs. Round and muscular with dimples for knees.

I want to kiss your legs, would that be weird? I do it anyway. You giggle and call me a loon. I have already told you I admire your legs, but you never believe me, you wish they were longer and slimmer. I prove my admiration anyway, with my lips and a rumble in the floorboards that turns out to be my own growl.

Oh but there, in between. There.

If I wasn’t on my knees already I would have dropped to them. Your sex is more florid and puffier than I ever dared imagine. And I’ve dared to imagine it a lot. You watch our reflection in your dressing mirror. I’m knelt at your feet like a shovel-jawed primitive in front of his queen. Your hands knead your buttocks behind you, uncomfortable with my scrutiny, itching to cover yourself. I like your discomfort. I think you do to. This moment will stay with us the rest of our lives, why rush it?

I reach behind you, grip your naked bum cheeks, and all but heft you toward me. I nuzzle a kiss to the yielding, intimate skin under your caramel fluff. A warm aroma of musky soap. Your lips give me a little stringing kiss of moisture. You taste of the sea.

“That makes my tummy flip,” you say. So I do it again, focussing on your fat clit. You catch your breath. I open my mouth to taste more of you but you pull me up, and settle to your own knees.

You pull out the waist of my underwear and peer inside. My cock pops out and nods happily under your smirk–which on your supersized mouth is bigger than my (ex) girlfriend’s broadest grin. Now I know how exposed you felt, as you remove my boxers and eye me up. Inches from your face, my familiar, veiny, blunt brute is shocking next to your smooth prettiness. I hope I’m clean enough. I spent ages scrubbing this morning, even though we weren’t supposed to go this far today. Suddenly your pillowy lips seem dangerous.

“Lovely big balls,” you say, cupping them, and I think that means you’re disappointed with my cock. I wish it were bigger for you, thicker. Even though you seem enraptured by it, stroking and squeezing while it nudges back at you for more.

I couldn’t be harder, at least. You flick your eyes between my face and hard-on, deadly serious. You seem to know what your exploration is doing to me, and like the power. You brush your cheek along my length, and whisper, “Oh God, at last.” Then it’s like I’m not even in the room. It’s just you and it. Suddenly the lips I’ve gawped at surreptitiously while you’re on the phone, or bored during meetings, the lips that greet clients with a polite smile, nestle my cock.

I must groan because you grin. You pull back my foreskin, un-sheath me, and press more plump kisses to my hypersensitive underside. I fight the urge to blub with happiness. I lock my knees, dizzy, even before you dab the soft, wet pad of your tongue to me.

You laugh at my curses and run your tongue all over me, your breath rolling down my length.

“I need to do you,” I blurt.

“I’ve come.” Lick. Kiss. “I owe you one.”

You don’t owe me, you own me. I clench hard at the warning spasms sincan escort behind my balls as you watch me in two fists and with a slow, firm grip pull a bead of pre-come to my tip. “Yes…” You sigh. “God look at that.” You drop your mouth over my taut bulb with a long hum that vibrates right through me and out of my own mouth.

I can’t take it; I cup your cheeks and hold you still. “I’ll do you first.”

You pull off me, flushed, and flick a frown at my (your) club. You squirm, sparkle and then grab my hand. You press it to your inner thigh. “You’re doing me already.”

Your skin is slick with arousal almost to your knee.

“Fucksake.”

You cackle and suck me into you. I shudder, and pick you up.

I will take the sensation of your nakedness in my arms to the grave. Your bottom in my hands, your neck to my lips, and my cock flexing at your belly. That’ll be my heaven.

Our hands ping back to each other’s bits like they’re attached by elastic. My fingers cheek their way under your bum to stir the impossible squishiness between your thighs.

You purr against my chest. Your approval has me giggling like a schoolboy. I savour your fleshy wetness, hoping you feel the same delight at my rigidity as it bucks in your palm. I slide a finger into you and you whimper and your knees wobble.

We aren’t in any hurry. Something about your bedroom, the orderliness I admire, is reflected in our first-lovemaking.

We could be groping each other, rolling all over the bed, ramming our mouths together, humping and romping. But we’re not. I feel a kinship with you in the calm, one-thing-at-time orderliness of our sex. Nice, organised piles of kiss, grind, strip, fondle, lick. I’ve worked with you long enough to know we share a desire for tidiness and calm. It’s only then that everything can be properly appreciated.

I kiss beneath your earlobe. Work at your clit and hole. You must feel my heart hammering against your cheek. You melt, your breath ragged. I take your weight.

“Lick me,” you say. And there is no sexier order than that. I point to your bed with glossy fingers.

“Mm-hmm.” You lie on your back, grip behind your knees, and pull them back and apart.

“Like this?” You bite back a smile of knowing that of course… exactly like that. I guess I have a look of pained lust on my face. I swallow. Your toes wriggle as you laugh at me again.

We make some silly banter about tasty spreads and buffets. Anything to get us past the fact this is a very unusual and explicit situation. It’s all so deliciously, awkwardly new to us. I let you squirm again for a moment while I enjoy the sight of your indecent splay. I settle between your thighs. Your juices loop between thigh and vulva, which is glistening already. Even more juice rolls out and gutters between your buttocks.

“Oh stop!” You wave your feet in irritation, not something I’ve ever seen anyone do before. “Do me!”

I kiss your clit, you catch a breath, and then I’m lost. All turns to warm, slippery tongue plunge and buttery wriggle. I try to control myself, do all the things I think you’ll like. I flicker my tongue at your nub. Rub it. Suck it. Curl a finger inside. I’m probably enjoying it as much as you. You once let slip that your boyfriend was a good shag but hated going down on you, so it’s sweet that you seek proof of my excitement now. “You hard?”

“Mm-hmm.” Me, on your clit.

“Show me.”

I present my scaffold to your narrowed eyes. You slide a foot down to monitor, and play with my erection while I work.

What with your toes fidgeting on my cock and your soggy marshmallow in my mouth. I have to hold back with all my strength. There is a primal, illicit thrill in drinking you, too, and you taste great, spilling over my tongue while you tip your hips at my mouth. You even look great, spreading your labia, pulling the hood off your clit, and curling down to watch me lick you, muttering breathily, “F-fuck…”

I want to spend the afternoon down here. But when I lift you by your buttocks to my mouth, suck your clit like a nipple and patter it with the tip of my tongue, you delightfully/frustratingly puff three long breaths, and yammer — with startling bluntness — “My cunt’s coming! My cunt’s coming!” You pulse at my lips, wriggle, then arch as if struck by lightning and burst into falsetto squeals of laughter.

You shove me away and cover yourself. “Stop-stop-stop!”

You can’t even touch your pussy. It spasms under hovering, trembling hands.

I am king-cock of the world. I wipe my chin and grin at you while you slink all post-orgasmic below me. There is nothing on earth more wondrous than the sight of you, right now. As you recover, you regard my ready-to-burst erection with big, sleepy eyes and languidly roll over to get something from beside your bed.

The condom you give me is not the type I’m used to. It fits too tight and feels too flimsy. My condoms are super-thick, super-safe ones my girlfriend buys in bulk. I get a pang of guilt as I roll it on. These weren’t bought for me. To your old boyfriend, they’re familiar, maybe even exciting. His heart would break, watching me now, squeezing into one of his sheaths, preparing not to just fuck his girlfriend, but worse, to make love with her.

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Superman and the Porn Star

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Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
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College Sex

Two months into my freshman year on campus, I had yet to score with one of the tempting sirens who crossed my field of vision each day. Admittedly, I lacked the confidence to be a great lover. Confronted with a pretty girl, it was all I could do to get my tongue to function.

There was no real reason for this. The mirror told me that I was reasonably good looking: 5’11”, medium build, dark wavy hair, strong jaw, deep hazel eyes — okay, the eyes were very myopic and had a condition making them too dry for contacts, requiring thick lenses in dorkish plastic frames.

Despite some confidence problems, I was not a complete loss. My virginity had expired over a year ago when a waitress at the lake resort where my family went on vacation gave me an extra special dessert. That gave me the courage to connect with a girl in my class, and we had hooked up toward the end of my senior year in high school.

But so far, despite all the promising porn videos depicting libertine lifestyles on the college campus, I just wasn’t connecting with the girls. And I was feeling the drought. I’d even thought about a visit to my former girlfriend at her college, but it was 500 miles away and her recent letter indicated she had already hooked up with another guy.

My roommate Daryl took pity on me.

“Bro, there’s going to be a hot party tonight at one of the frats. I have a gig there. Why don’t you come along? Never know, you might get lucky.”

Now, in all objectivity, Daryl wasn’t as good looking as me. He was tall and lanky with a hook nose and zits. Even so, Daryl didn’t have a confidence problem, largely because he had a sure fire scheme for meeting babes, which also brought in some spare change. He had a deal recording parties at dorms, fraternities and sororities for one of the online porn producers.

Daryl showed me some of the raunchy stuff he videoed — guaranteed to pitch your tent. He had no complaints about his earnings, and there were trickle-down effects: Frats and sororities got a cut for being “temporary studios,” as did the amateur “stars” they provided. Co-eds attracted to the action chatted up Daryl, the cameraman and informal “director,” and he often wound up scoring during subsequent “casting calls.”

“Yeah, I’ll go,” I told him. “I’m not too proud to take one of your table scraps.

The party was not at our college but at the state university campus 30 miles away. Daryl had already told the frat leaders what he was looking for, and we got there early to confirm everything was ready.

“No problem,” according to Tyler, a big, good-looking blond dude who said he had lined up a few willing and very hot babes, one of whom he had already personally “auditioned.” She was to be the lead starlet, inspiring action by others

“She doesn’t have much in the way of inhibitions, but as insurance I’ve already primed her for the shoot with Ecstasy,” Tyler added in a low voice.

I had heard of Ecstasy, a “hug drug” stimulant that produces euphoria and extra energy for long periods of time. Some guys slip it into the drinks of dates, hoping to increase their chances of scoring. One guy told me he took it himself to enhance his performance, and was able to go for an hour or more.

Tyler took us to another room to meet and brief the new starlet. She was tall, with ample cleavage displaying well in her low-cut top, had a nice booty in tight shorts and long shapely legs. She had a pretty “girl next door” face highlighted by a good smile showing white teeth, and long honey-blonde hair held back with a pink ribbon. Her deep blue eyes looked a little glazed.

“I’m Daryl, the camera guy,” my roomie said. “He’s John, my assistant.” She extended her hand, introducing herself as something sounding like “Smanta,” her speech confirming that she was under the influence of something besides ginger ale.

“You’re kinda cute,” she said, smiling at me. “Ought’a lose those glasses though.” Admittedly, my prominent plastic frames did look like something out of the last century, but it was nice to be called cute by a pretty girl, even a porn starlet.

Daryl reviewed the “screenplay.” Tyler would be the “male lead” for “Smanta,”and others from the gathering of onlookers would play “supporting roles.” She didn’t have to fuck anyone but Tyler, but if she sucked off a couple other guys at the same time it was worth bonus bucks. Smanta listened calmly, nodding and smiling, her eyes growing wider and more focused, confirming she was ready to hold an Oscar. Two other aspiring starlets who had been listening pledged to do their parts as extras.

Daryl took a wad of cash from his pocket and gave it to Tyler to share with Smanta and other beneficiaries, including the fraternity treasurer. Daryl had told me beforehand that it was a strictly cash business, and he had already deducted his share.

Students were arriving for the party, and we went to a room where the frat bartender was dispensing plastic cups of keg beer. As in many college towns, liquor laws here were enforced loosely, even in bars and restaurants, and fraternities were eryaman genç escort the wild west.

The music system cranked up, people started bantering and dancing, and the party was on. I made a circuit of the room. As Daryl had promised, there were a number of hot babes, although most seemed to already have dates or were well-attended by other hopefuls.

“John.” I heard my name called. My cameraman roomie gestured from across the room, giving me a heads up that the main entertainment was about to begin. I made my way to the “studio” room, where others in the know were congregating, and got a good seat facing the “stage.” Daryl shouted “action” and started recording.

It was a simple set and plot: Tyler and Smanta were seated at a small table, with books spread in front of them as if they were studying. Other students who Tyler had picked as extras stopped by, with cups of beer, telling them to put aside their academic pursuits and join the party. Tyler began caressing Smanta’s boobs as her hand drifted down to his crotch, and they fell into a passionate embrace, lips locked together.

Smanta raised her hands as Tyler helped her out of the tight top, so her well-formed boobs could bounce freely, to the cheers of surrounding partiers, who served as volunteer extras.. She undid Tyler’s belt and pulled his pants down around his ankles, his boxers showing a pointed projection. The boxers followed his pants downward, and his sizable erection sprang out to her waiting lips. She seemed to admire it a moment, then began licking up and down the shaft to his nut sack, finally taking his length in her mouth most of the way, making enthusiastic slurping sounds to more cheers from the surrounding voyeurs.

This went on a while before Tyler extracted himself from Smanta’s oral embrace, kicked away the clothing around his ankles and sat her on the table, helping her out of her lower garments. She was shaven except for a small sculpted patch, and Tyler licked tentatively while inserting a couple fingers in her vagina, to soft moans. Then he directed her to lie back on the table for the main event, legs in the air, feet resting on his shoulders. He inserted himself into her, slowly at first, then thrusting in and out in a steady rhythm, to more cheers.

“Fuck that pussy,” someone shouted, and a chorus of mostly male onlookers began chanting that refrain as Smanta continued moaning and writhing, her tits jumping in sync with Tyler’s thrusting. Some of the spectators, mostly female, feigned embarrassed smiles, but no one looked away.

“She needs something in her mouth too,” Daryl exclaimed in an off-camera vocalization, and another frat brother, one of the supporting actors, approached the table next to Smanta’s head, opening his fly and whipping out his hard dick. She looked at it with a vacant expression, then opened wide to accept the latest offering, slurping eagerly as Tyler continued fucking her. More cheers erupted from the audience.

The two female supporting actors on a sofa against the wall began their parts, falling on their knees before their “dates,” while other students who had not even been cast for such parts started making out from sheer inspiration. There were more feigned looks of embarrassment, but no one in the crowd looked away for long, as they smiled, laughed and cheered with raunchy comments. This could serve as a sociological study of crowd dynamics, I thought.

Daryl was a blur of motion, capturing the action from different camera angles, shooting Tyler’s heaving buttocks as he thrust, moving to one side to record his dick plunging in and out of Smanta’s pussy, then adjusting for a closeup of her sucking off the other frat brother and swinging around for a shot of the other couples and a pan of the enthusiastic crowd.

The frat bro being sucked had been briefed on how to play his part, and did it well. He grimaced, yelled and withdrew, shooting globs of spunk into Smanta’s open mouth and onto her pretty face to mock screams of terror from female onlookers and cheers from males. Daryl moved in for a closeup of the girl’s pretty cum-smeared face. She smiled dreamily for the camera. Her tongue shot out to lick jizz from her lips.

It was time for a change of perspective. Tyler withdrew his swollen dick and lowered the girl’s legs to the floor. Smanta was shaky as he guided her to the side of the table and directed her to lower her upper body onto its surface with her feet on the floor. He then entered her again, from behind. This gave Daryl more camera angles to exploit. Someone held a cup of beer for Tyler, who sipped from it as he continued to thrust. The crowd chanted, “Doggie, doggie, doggie,” and there were a few faux bow wows. Another cup of beer was held to the lips of his semi-prone partner, who took a couple of swigs, although it was difficult for Smanta to swallow in that position.

“I’ll give her something easier to get her lips around,” yelled another supporting actor, stepping forth and unzipping his fly. More cheers came from the onlookers as Smanta went to work on the latest offering. ankara escort bayan It was not long before the second frat brother followed the example of the first, creaming into Smanta’s open mouth and on her face, Daryl zooming in from only a foot or so away. Still more cheers erupted from the group. Smanta choked a little, and someone brought a fresh cup of beer to help her wash down the latest infusion.

I admit to being excited, with a tent in my pants, even as I wondered why a girl so good looking would subject herself to such a demeaning public display. Any number of guys — myself among them — would have gladly taken care of her needs in private. A case of money talks, I supposed, still wondering whether whatever she was earning could be worth it.

Then, as Daryl was shooting the closeup of Smanta’s cum-covered face, she did something showing she truly was in “ecstasy” with this activity. She reached out with both hands to unzip his fly, worked his dick out and began pumping. It was already semi-hard and quickly came to full attention. As Daryl adjusted focus, Smanta began sucking her fourth dick of the night.

“Lights, camera, action,” someone in the gathering cried out, to general laughter. Daryl tried to suppress his own enthusiasm as he shot a point of view angle of himself being sucked. Someone began singing the old sea song, “Blow the Man Down,” and the crowd joined in. Daryl panned the chorus, then swung the lens toward Tyler, who was laughing and singing as well while continuing to hump, and the two of them slapped palms in a high five, Daryl trying to keep the camera fairly steady with one hand. Smanta continued sucking vigorously, and it was not long before Daryl’s eyes glazed and the camera jerked a little as he grimaced.

Showing great stage presence as well as oral technique, Smanta slowed her rhythm and looked up at the lens, releasing Daryl’s dick from the embrace of her mouth and opening wide to show a profusion of creamy, white stuff. She closed her mouth again and visibly swallowed, then took Daryl’s dick back into her mouth and began licking it clean, continuing to look up at the camera with those wide eyes. Cheers showed the audience’s appreciation. One guy exclaimed he was going to change his major to cinematography, to general laughter.

All the sexual excitement brought Tyler to his own limits, and he made a few tell-tale grunts, recapturing Daryl’s attention. The cameraman withdrew from Smanta’s mouth, and despite the immobilizing handicap of his projecting prick, scrambled to the head of the table to film the last few thrusts. Tyler shut his eyes, exclaimed and emptied himself into the girl, then withdrew and thrust his hands above his head in a Rocky victory pose, his shiny prick at full mast, to more cheers and a hand of applause. Smanta remained on her feet, still bent over the table as Daryl kneeled to shoot a closeup of the cream pie oozing from her.

The camera light dimmed, signaling the finale of an epic performance in the annals of lust and higher education. Cheers and applause died away as students began exchanging glances, some of them signaling sexual desire, others unsure, perhaps revealing some genuine embarrassment over how enthusiastically they had reacted to the show. A few girls may have been worrying how their cheering would look to folks in the old neighborhood if the production were to go viral on the internet and an e-mail link found its way there.

As the crowd dispersed to go about its partying, Daryl came over and handed me his camera to hold while he tucked away his softening dick. “Bro, that was sheer serendipity. I’m usually shooting other people getting their rocks off, not making a selfie being sucked off,” he said. “She really knew how to use her mouth.” Tyler joined us, still naked, also at half mast, and there was another high five between him and Daryl.

“What happens now with her?” I asked, motioning toward the girl, still draped over the table, eyes glazed, vacant smile in place.

“I’ll put her in one of the bedrooms over there to let her sleep it off, and take her home later,” Tyler said.

As we looked in the direction indicated, a guy and girl opened the door of a room and hurried in. “Looks like we inspired some more action,” Tyler laughed.

Daryl looked at the room, its door partly ajar, and said, “I’m going to see if those two are willing to provide some background shots that I can splice into the video. Why don’t you mix, John? Maybe you can find some horny bimbo and get taken care of. If so, I may be able to get you in the video too, with a small stipend as a supporting actor.” He nudged me and winked.

During the next hour I consumed a couple more cups of beer, but had my usual lack of success with girls. The hotter ones were pairing off with guys to get it on, either in the sleeping rooms of the frat house or their own dorm rooms. Others were being worked on, in hopes they would succumb. Daryl continued to film “background” scenes, one or two about as raunchy as the main event. Eventually we split for our sincan escort native campus, Daryl saying he had enough for at least one more video that he could sell with little overhead, thanks to the unpaid amateur extras.

Tyler had apparently taken the new star to rest on her laurels somewhere, as she was no longer sprawled on the table.

* * *

A few days later, I was between classes in the student union, looking over notes to prepare for a test. The union was crowded, with seating at a premium. A girl stopped at my small two-person table, and asked if the empty seat across from me was taken.

“All yours,” I responded.

As she sat I made a quick appraisal: Good looking, tall, long honey blonde hair, wide eyes, a promising body beneath her buttoned blazer. She looked familiar. In one of my classes? As she spread out some books before her, I went back to my notes, but sneaked a few more surreptitious glances, trying to place her.

Suddenly, it clicked — the girl from the party! The star!

The only difference was that her hair was down, flowing about her shoulders. During the production, it had been held back with a ribbon, probably so it would not get in the way during blow jobs.

She was studying something, lips pursed, brow furrowed. I wondered if I should attempt conversation. But why? Did I really want to get involved with a whore? Okay, maybe not officially a whore, but wasn’t a porn star pretty much the same thing — taking money for making a show of sex for popular entertainment, not even discreet about it like a high priced hooker would be.

But, hell, who was I to be picky? I was super horny and didn’t have any prospects. A hit here, even with a porn slut, might get me started again, help build some self-confidence, make it easier to score with conventional girls.

“Looks like a challenge. What are you studying?” I asked.

“Western Civ,” she replied, pouting. “Medieval political maneuverings in England and France. I can’t keep the factions straight.”

As it happened, this was one of my easier courses, and I had a fair understanding of the period from independent reading. I gave a short explanation, summarizing the major actors and their feudal vassals and enemies, domestic and foreign. She asked a couple of questions, made a few annotations to her notes, drew a couple arrows.

“I wish you were my instructor,” she said, smiling. “You make it seem so clear.” She had a great smile, and those big, blue eyes evoked the image of a swimming pool. I decided to dive in.

“Who do you have?” I asked. “My professor is Dr. Drake.”

She had the other guy. “But we do have that common lecture hall — the profs switch off conducting it,” she noted. “I think I’ve seen you there. By the way, my name is Amanda Beaufort — Mandy.” She extended her hand.

“John Drew,” I said, taking it and shaking awkwardly.

So, “Smanta” was now Mandy. Her speech had really been slurred the other night. I was thinking what to say next and how to work up to getting her phone number when I noticed Daryl approach our table, winking at me.

“How goes it, Bro,” he asked, then shifted his gaze to appraise the girl. His face quickly changed from friendly curiosity to surprise, as he blinked, grinned and remarked, “Wow, imagine running into you again so soon. How are you feeling? Recovered from all that activity?”

Mandy smiled quizzically. “Have we met?” she asked.

“Can’t say we’re exactly strangers,” Daryl replied. “You know, I’m always looking for a good performer. If you get around this way often, maybe you’d like to do a party vid I’m lining up at one of our sororities.” He held up his small video camera, which he often carried.

Her seemingly perplexed look deepened, brow furrowing as her smile thinned. “I’m kind of booked. You’ll have to talk to my agent,” she replied sarcastically, rolling her eyes slightly, then looked at me and added, “Well, I have to go, John. Thank you again for your help. See you at lecture hall.” She gathered her materials and rose, motioning Daryl to take her chair, and walked quickly away.

“Well, you may finally be about to hit pay dirt,” Daryl said to me, taking the chair. “You’re on a first name basis, I see. Does she take courses here? I thought she went to State.”

“She goes here, and thanks for chasing her away,” I replied, sarcastically.

“Weird chick, though,” Daryl went on. “She got a wad of cash and a wad of spunk from me a few days ago, but now acts as if she doesn’t recognize me and blows me off when I offer her another job.” He shook his head. “But she remembered you?”

“I don’t think so. We exchanged names just before you showed.”

“Well, she was whackadoo stoned. Probably everybody and everything was a blur. Anyway, keep up the good work, Bro. You can’t miss on this one, according to Tyler. She’s been around.”

Strange, I thought. If this brief encounter had been my first with Mandy, she wouldn’t have struck me as a wild one. She seemed friendly but low key, even reserved, not like the girl I had witnessed fucking and sucking off guys for the camera. Anyway, she was a good looking babe, and I agreed with Daryl that maybe this was my opportunity to get some relief from extreme sexual tension, while building up confidence to improve my record on the social circuit.

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Amateur

I was partially hidden among the leaves of the mulberry tree, with one arm wrapped around the trunk and the other stretched over my head. My fingers grasped for the sweetest berries, which tended to be among the higher branches.

“Sophie! I thought I’d find you here,” a voice said from below, making me jump.

Glancing down, I spotted Troy looking up at me with a grin. I let out a squeal of excitement, then quickly feigned a stern expression. “You shouldn’t sneak up on a girl like that,” I scolded him. “You could have made me fall!”

Though I wasn’t very high off the ground, it still would have made for a hard landing.

“I figured you saw me coming,” he said, his playful smile never faltering. “I knocked on your door, and your mom told me you were out back.”

“I didn’t think you’d be here so soon,” I said. I started to make my way down the tree, then hesitated as my eyes locked with Troy’s.

It had been only a few months since I’d last seen him during his spring break, but it seemed as though we had to get used to each other all over again after being apart for any length of time. He still looked the same: tall and thin to the point of lankiness. I figured if either one of us looked different, it was me. I’d been working at the factory for almost a year now, and the job felt soul-draining at times.

Troy and I were both nineteen, but our lives had taken different paths. I told myself I was glad that he’d decided to get out of this town and make something of himself, even if I’d chosen to stay behind.

Yet I missed him terribly sometimes. The letters we wrote while he was away at college never came close to making up for the times we used to spend taking walks through the woods, talking about anything and everything.

Troy and I had grown up as neighbors; our houses were the only ones on this rural road out in the country. While my daily drive to my job in town was a drag, I loved living out in the woods, surrounded by wildness and beauty. It was one of the reasons I’d chosen to stay in this place after I graduated high school. The lack of money was the other reason.

Now Troy slid his hands in his jeans pockets and rocked back on his heels. “Are you going to stay up in that tree all day?” he asked.

“Maybe,” I replied, keeping one arm wrapped tight around the tree trunk. “The best berries are up here.”

Troy grimaced. “Too tart for my taste, but I remember how much you always loved them. Good thing you’re dressed in old clothes.” He tilted his head to the side, as if studying me, and his grin returned. “In fact, those shorts are a bit loose on you. I can see right up them.”

A blush heated my cheeks. “Liar,” I said, resisting the urge to cross my legs tightly together. That would be a good way to lose my balance while standing on this limb!

“Honest to God, I can,” he said. “My, my, and you’re wearing pink panties, too. I never would have guessed you to be the girly type.”

“I didn’t choose them; Mom bought me underwear as a stocking stuffer for Christmas,” I retorted. “And stop looking, you pervert!” I climbed down the tree as quickly as I could, scraping my calf in the process.

As soon as I stood before Troy, he threw his head back and laughed. “You are a sight for sore eyes, Sophie! You have berry juice all over you.”

I grinned in spite of myself and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. “I couldn’t very well carry them down with me, so I had to eat them while I was up there,” I pointed out. I figured my mouth was stained, and one glance downward revealed that my old white t-shirt was also spotted. I wasn’t sure how many washings it would take to get the stains off my fingertips.

“Come here, you,” Troy said, drawing me into a hug.

I let him embrace me but held my hands away from his shirt. “I don’t want to stain your clothes,” I said. Still, I couldn’t resist nuzzling his neck and breathing in his scent.

After we slowly withdrew, I stared up at him. His eyes were a dazzling blue; they were almost the same color as the chicory flowers that grew beside the road. His dark hair was thick and a little wavy. I noticed he’d nicked himself shaving that morning.

Though his freshman year of college had ended back in the spring, he’d initially traveled halfway across the country to spend some time with his grandparents on his mom’s side. His last letter told me he’d be coming home for the summer this weekend, but I’d counted on him arriving later today, closer to evening.

Troy gave my auburn ponytail a playful tug as he smiled at me affectionately. Then his gaze softened, and he appeared almost worried. “You look tired. What kind of hours do they have you working at the factory?” he asked.

“Long ones,” I replied, looking away so he wouldn’t see just how much I hated the job. “The pay’s not bad, though.”

Troy took my hands in his and ran his thumbs over my knuckles. “That place will wear you down really fast,” he said quietly. “You know that.”

I pulled away from him and forced a smile. eryaman escortlar “Not all of us can afford to go to college,” I said, trying to keep my tone light.

While Troy and I were neighbors, his parents were wealthier than mine. His father had built on land out here that Troy’s grandfather had given him. While my dad worked a blue-collar job and my mom was a housewife, Troy’s parents had their own business in town.

Yet Troy had never made me feel inferior in any way. No, that was all my doing, and only since he’d left for college. I feared his fondness for me would diminish over time as his world expanded and mine stayed the same.

Troy sighed and slung an arm around my shoulders. “You know we’ve talked about this,” he said as we strolled toward the woods and the usual path we took. “You and I can share an apartment while I’m at school. I’ve already decided not to live in the dorm for another year, and I know the exact place I’m going to rent. You don’t have to go to college, Sophie, but I’m sure you can find a far less back-breaking job than the one you have now if you leave this town and live with me.”

Just hearing him say the words made me shiver despite the summer heat. His suggestion filled me with longing and trepidation at the same time. “And I told you,” I said, leaning against him, “that it wouldn’t be fair to you. You’re making a new life for yourself, and I would have to rely on you way too much at first, since I’d be in a completely unfamiliar place.” I gave him a playful nudge. “I would totally cramp your style.”

“That’s bullshit,” Troy shot back, and his tone bordered on exasperated. He stopped and turned to me. “Did you even bother to read all those letters I sent you?”

“Every single one,” I said, my voice wavering with sudden emotion I couldn’t hide.

“So you should know how much I’ve missed you, and how much I’ve wished we could be together,” he went on. His words, and the intensity of his stare, made me avert my eyes. “We’ve been friends forever, and I hope that never changes, regardless of what happens in our lives.”

I didn’t trust myself to speak; I wasn’t sure how my voice would sound, or exactly what I would say. Troy seemed to understand, for he grabbed my hand.

“Let’s head into the woods,” he said. “Looks like you’ve already gotten too much sun on your face.”

With my fair skin, I was nearly always at risk of burning, but I figured hanging out in the mulberry tree would have protected me from the sun.

As we moved deeper into the woods, following the worn path we knew like the lines in our palms, we kept the conversation light. I asked him how his visit with his grandparents went, and what classes he would be taking for his sophomore year. Then I couldn’t resist bringing up his love life.

“You kept your letters to me mostly PG-rated, but you did happen to mention a girl named Deb a few times,” I said. “What’s that all about?”

Troy smiled and shook his head. “Nothing serious. Deb’s a lot of fun.”

“Oh, is that so?” I hooted with laughter. “You’re actually blushing right now, so she must be a hell of a lot of fun!”

“She taught me a few things, that’s for sure,” he admitted.

“So I guess it’s safe to assume you’re not a virgin anymore,” I said, linking my arm in his. “I know you were when you left this town.”

“Only because I told you I was,” Troy said, then gave me a helpless shrug. “Come on, Sophie. It’s college. Of course I’m going to try to get laid.”

I rolled my eyes at his evasiveness. “But did you succeed?” I wanted to know.

“Yes!” he practically shouted through his own laughter. “Are you happy now?”

I jumped onto his back, the way I used to, and he carried me a bit, grumbling all the while. “I am happy for you,” I lied through my teeth. The truth was, it bothered me to think of him with another girl, though our relationship had always been strictly platonic. Maybe I just didn’t want someone else stealing away all his attention. “And I hope you’re happy for me,” I went on, my lips close to his ear. “Because I’m not a virgin anymore, either.”

Troy almost dropped me, and I found myself clinging to him in fear as I let out a shriek. “What the hell, Sophie? You didn’t tell me any of this!”

He set me back down on my feet and turned to me, all the amusement having vanished from his face.

I felt like I was being reamed out for doing something wrong. “It only happened a couple months ago, after I last saw you in the spring,” I said. “I certainly wasn’t going to describe it in a letter. What did you want me to write? ‘Hey, Troy, someone finally popped my cherry!'”

I hoped to make him laugh, but instead, he gently grasped my arm, his eyes never leaving mine. “Who was he?” he asked. Troy knew I’d never had a serious boyfriend.

“Some older guy I met through a co-worker,” I said, feeling my face grow hot. “He doesn’t live around here; he was just visiting for a week or so. Anyway, we went out on a couple of dates, and…” I held up my hands. “I figured ankara escort bayan it was time, you know? I wanted to see what all the fuss was about. And he was nice. Gentle and respectful, and he didn’t freak out when he found out it would be my first time.”

Troy ran a hand through his hair. “I guess a lot has changed, huh?”

“I guess it has,” I replied.

He gave me a sidelong glance. “And did you enjoy it… with this older guy?”

My eyes widened, and I couldn’t help but burst out laughing. “Probably as much as you enjoyed doing it with Deb,” I told him.

“Well…” He drew the word out slowly. “Deb certainly made me come. Did this guy make you come?”

I swallowed hard, feeling my pulse quicken. Troy and I had always been open and honest with each other, but we tended to skirt around the topic of sex, only brushing over it. Now it seemed he wanted to know intimate details.

I folded my arms over my chest. “If I didn’t know better, I would think that you’re jealous, Troy,” I said. I figured those words would make him scoff, and it would put an end to this strange conversation, which was both uncomfortable and titillating to me.

“Maybe I am,” he said simply, giving me a long stare. “Maybe I wish I’d been your first.”

“Well, you certainly didn’t save yourself for me,” I said with a smirk.

Troy took several slow steps toward me, backing me up against the trunk of a large oak. He was so close, his lips were just inches from mine. “But I would have,” he whispered, “if you had wanted me to.”

I couldn’t look in his eyes; instead, I stared at the front of his shirt while I reeled from his revelation. “I never knew… you felt that way about me,” I finally managed to say.

He ducked his head, catching my gaze. “Sophie, no matter who I slept with in college, I was always thinking of you.”

I drew in a sharp breath, my eyes growing wide. The blood rushing through me sounded like a roar in my head, and I felt a surge of arousal between my thighs.

Leaning back against the tree, I closed my eyes, and a soft moan escaped me when I felt Troy’s lips brush against my neck.

“Troy, I don’t want to mess up our friendship.” I forced myself to utter those words despite my desire for him, a desire he’d made me acknowledge.

“Then tell me you only think of me as a friend,” he whispered in my ear.

Finally I opened my eyes and met his stare. “I can’t,” I said.

He lowered his mouth to mine, and as we shared our first kiss, Troy made a satisfied sound deep in his throat. His lips were so soft, so warm and inviting, before his kiss grew more demanding. His tongue touched mine, and I whimpered with a fierce longing. The crotch of my panties was growing wetter by the second.

Suddenly his hands were all over me, gently cupping my breasts through my shirt, and sliding lower to grip my ass. I realized I loved knowing how excited he was; my body completely yielded to his touch. And when he pressed me firmly against him, I could feel how hard he already was for me. All the while, his mouth hungrily claimed mine, and our tongues danced together between our lips.

When Troy finally broke the kiss, breathing heavily, his eyes held a question as he reached for the hem of my shirt. I quickly nodded, granting him permission.

He lifted up my shirt, revealing my plain white bra. For a moment, he simply stared at my breasts, and I found myself hoping the sight of them measured up to his fantasies.

Then Troy pulled up my bra, exposing me and making me gasp. I didn’t have a chance to speak before he pressed his face into those mounds, releasing a sigh of pleasure. “I want to suck on these so bad,” he murmured. “My mouth is literally watering.”

I held up my shirt for him, freeing his hands. His words made my hips thrust forward just a little, but enough to make him notice. “Then do it,” I said.

Troy looked up at me with a wicked grin. “Is that a dare, Sophie?”

I quickly nodded. “I dare you to suck on my tits, Troy.” My breath was coming fast, as if I’d just finished running at a sprint. “And I dare you to take your cock out so I can stroke it.”

He released a cry that betrayed his own longing, and I saw he was trembling. As he worked at the button and zipper of his jeans, my nipples grew even harder, practically begging to be taken between his lips.

My large areolae were a pale peach color, and Troy swirled the tip of his tongue all around my left one. Before he could latch on, I eased him back a bit so I could see his fully erect cock, which he now grasped. The sight of it made me ache deep in my core, and a kind of wild abandon took over me as I dared to massage the tip with my fingers. He had a beautiful mushroom head, and a girth to his shaft that made me think he might stretch me more than just a little.

I felt Troy pulse beneath my touch, and then his mouth sought my nipple, sucking hard. “Yes!” I cried, stroking his cock, fondling him with both hands. His moans, muffled by my elvankent escort bayan breast, grew louder when I simultaneously stroked his length and cupped his balls.

Gliding my thumb gently over his slit, I felt a little pre-cum there. Troy squeezed my left breast while turning his attention to my right, gently taking the nipple between his teeth. Then he began suckling once more, and each pull of his mouth caused a throb of need deep inside me.

I was ready to strip off my shorts and those pink panties right then and there, but a faint, familiar sound made me freeze.

Troy quickly lifted his head, then groaned in frustration. “Jesus Christ, your mother is calling for you, Sophie!”

“I’m sorry!” I said, then looked down again at his hard cock, which pulsed with his heartbeat. While I was soaking wet between my thighs, I figured Troy needed release even more than I did.

I went back to stroking him, ignoring my mother’s distant voice.

Troy sucked in his breath through his teeth, staring down at my hand pleasuring him. “Sophie…”

“It’s okay,” I said. “I want you to come. Just focus on me,” I urged him. “Focus on my tits.”

He played with my breasts, tugging and twisting the nipples, but not too roughly, while I worked to bring him to climax. “Oh God!” he gasped, and I could see him tensing up. His face was full of a desperate need, and I knew I had him right at the edge.

“I can’t wait for you to fuck me,” I told him in a high-pitched plaintive voice. “I can’t wait to feel this thick cock deep inside, stretching me…”

Troy let out a cry and then a low groan, and I felt his hot semen striking my lower belly in spurts. The sight of it shooting out of him and covering my skin made me grow weak-kneed, and I had to resist the urge to reach between my legs and rub my clit.

“Fuck, I made a mess. I’m sorry,” he panted.

“It’s fine,” I assured him, pulling off my t-shirt so I could use it to mop up his semen. “I’m going to take a shower when I get back to the house, and I’ll throw this shirt in the laundry.”

I pulled the shirt back on as Troy put away his cock, which was still quite hard. Then I flashed him a sly smile. “Feels dirty, but also sexy, to be wearing a shirt covered with your cum.”

A blush invaded his face and neck, and then he reached for me and kissed me hard. “Let me come over tonight,” he whispered against my lips. “I know you like mulberries, but there’s another kind of juice I want to be covered in.”

His filthy words made me moan. “I’ll meet you in the back yard at eleven,” I told him, then broke away so I could dart back to the house.

I feared my mother would take one look at me and immediately know what I’d been up to, but she didn’t seem suspicious as she asked me to help her with some random household task that she could have easily managed herself. Mom liked Troy well enough, but I guessed she wanted to keep a close eye on us, never quite understanding the deep friendship we had.

Which had now deepened into something more.

* * *

My parents were fast asleep by eleven o’ clock most nights, so that was when Troy and I had always arranged to meet. Before, we’d hung out in my yard talking about our hopes and dreams, and even confessing some of our fears, but I knew we were now meeting for a different reason, and I couldn’t seem to wrap my head around the change in the both of us. It seemed surreal when I thought back on what we’d done together in the woods.

My bewilderment did nothing to dampen my arousal, however, and I masturbated in the shower, the spray of the water muffling the sound of my moans. I pulled on my nipples, harder than Troy had, and I worked two and then three fingers deep inside me, thrusting as I imagined Troy’s cock opening me wide.

I came with a cry and shook violently. Without warning, tears filled my eyes, and I leaned against the shower wall, overcome by how deep my feelings were for Troy. All the days I had missed him, and longed to talk to him, to touch him and hear his voice, came flooding back. I knew that if he and I crossed this threshold, it would kill me when he left town again.

Daylight faded, giving way to darkness. I tried to pretend everything was normal as I watched some TV with my parents, but I felt like I was ready to jump out of my skin. The anticipation for the night ahead was driving me crazy.

At a little after ten, I told my parents I was heading to bed, and I slipped down the hall to my room. With only my bedside table lamp on for light, I chose to wear a green strapless sundress, one with a stretchy top that could easily be pulled down. Troy had already seen plenty of my breasts, and I was eager to let him get another look, and another feel, of them.

By eleven, the house around me was silent, and I crept out into the dark hallway, easily moving through the shadows toward the back door. Holding my breath, I let myself outside, but I flipped the porch light on as I did. My parents’ room faced the front of the house, so I knew they wouldn’t notice the back porch light shining.

While that light provided some illumination, the place in the yard where I was headed remained in shadow. I walked on bare feet away from the house and toward the hammock which hung between two sturdy oaks.

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Morris / The Dangerous Jade Pt. 03

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Amateur

Morris Micklewhite and The Dangerous Jade

A Fanfiction

Based on the character Jade Dragon

created by Battlestrength

Part Three

The Author wishes to express his deepest thanks to Battlestrength for his permission in writing this story, and to Destodes 777 for his edit.

Morris Micklewhite

Hi. My name is Morris Micklewhite. You’ve met me before. The first time I said my life sucks. A lot, a fucking lot, happened since.

My life still kinda sucks, but it’s gotten so far into the rabbit hole, I can’t tell what suck is anymore.

Here’s a summary of how I got into this mess:

First, my stepbitch of a sister (by marriage) forced me to naked cater her party ’cause I lost a bet.

Then, my asshole of a dad exiles me to my Uncle Harry, ’cause some of the party goers plastered my naked ass all over the internet.

Next, I find my Uncle Harry’s living with a shit hot blonde, and they’re both all kinds of strange, and keeping all sorts of secrets.

Then, me and Liz (the blonde) get our asses kidnapped (after she injects a bunch of weird shit in mine), by a mad pervert scientist who looks like Paul Shaffer.

Next, we’re hooked up to a weird fuck machine, and I find Liz is some big shot super scientist, and Uncle Harry is a top secret hit man for the secret squirrels.

Then, while the machine is literally fucking us to death, a hot assassin-looking lady with green hair, bursts in, kills the guards, and dehooks us.

Next, I find the stuff Liz put in me is supposed to change me somehow, and we have to leave her behind, ’cause the locks keeping us to the benches are top of the line, and the green-haired lady can only free one of us before Hazard and his goons get back.

Finally, the green-haired lady drags me to her badass (and I mean badass, damn!) car, and seconds later I’m hunched down in the front seat speeding out of, what I later found out was, Fleming Key.

Did I tell you I was also naked, covered in cum, and the green-haired lady was looking at me like I’d just shit in her seat?

We sped across the bridge into Key West. She didn’t say a word, except “fuck” and “shit” a few times. I don’t know but the vibe she gave was a lioness cheated out of a buffalo in favor of a gazelle.

She slowed as we drove through Key West and turned down Flagler Avenue. We stopped at a Salvation Army thrift store.

“Unbuckle your seatbelt, crouch down, and keep out of sight.”

I did as she said. It was kind of like Uncle Harry’s rules. Do as you’re told. Besides, I had a very strong feeling she was the only one keeping me safe at the moment, so I wasn’t going to piss her off with bratty teen behavior.

She took a pack in with her. Ten minutes later she came back with a couple of bags. She’d also changed into a Tee and daisy dukes. She tossed a black T-shirt and khaki green cargo shorts to me.

“Put those on.”

I hesitated. I was a little . . . sticky.

“Look kid, I’m not driving to Marathon with a naked teen in the car. It attracts attention. You can clean up when we get there.”

Made sense.

The drive from Key West to Marathon took forty-five minutes. She drove fast. Her radar detector kept an eye out for speed traps.

I figured the drive was a good time to get to know this Jade Dragon lady.

“Just a . . . specialist,” she answered.

“Uh . . . like Uncle Harry?”

“Yep.”

“So you kill people.”

“Yes I do, but only the bad ones, and sometimes I do rescues.”

“Does . . . uh . . . Uncle Harry kill people?”

“So eryaman anal yapan escort far as I know. We don’t talk business.”

“How do you know him?”

“He trained me. Well, he was my first real trainer. Introduced me to the business. We had some . . . interesting times.”

“Oh.” I decided not to ask for details.

“So you’re Harry’s nephew.”

“Yes.”

“You don’t look like someone related to Harry.”

“I take after my Dad and Grandpa. Uncle Harry took after Grandma. She was from Cyprus.”

“Makes sense.”

She fell quiet for a few minutes, then spoke.

“So how did you end up mixed with Harry and Liz? You don’t look like a Lifer.”

“I’m not. Whatever this ‘Life’ you’re talking about. It’s . . . complicated.”

“We have plenty of time to uncomplicate it.”

It didn’t seem much point not talking about it, so I told her.

She had a laugh at stepbitch beating me at Call of Duty.

“Never, ever underestimate your opponent, kid. I made that mistake with Doc Hazard once . . . once.”

Then I got to the party and the nude catering.

“I think you should be over your embarrassment by now kid. It looks like you’ve been nude a lot.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

I told her about Dad exiling me to Key West. What Liz did when we first met. The quiet period, and then the kidnapping and fuck machine.

“Geez kid, what’s this with you and nudity?”

“I don’t know. Swimming nude was Liz’s suggestion I admit, but ever since the party it always feels I wind up naked all the time.”

“Well, from what Liz told me, your life’s about to get weirder.”

“Yeah . . . what’s going to happen?”

“We’ll find out when we get to the safe house.”

“Are we going there now?”

“No, we’re holing up in a motel for a few days, until I get a handle on our current situation, and arrange transport.”

“You think they’re coming after us?”

“Maybe. I think I covered my tracks well enough, and Liz was the prize, not you. I don’t think she’ll talk. Plus, motels are kind of low key. Not too many people pry into those places.”

I thought that was a good thing but it still felt bad leaving her. I didn’t like to think what Doc Hazard would do.

We pulled into Marathon just after sunset. The motel was the Kingsail Resort. Out of the way and cheap, but not seedy.

“Stay here.”

She went into the lobby and checked us into a two bed for two nights.

It was good as motels went: the two beds, a kitchenette and, most important, a bathroom with a shower.

Jade smiled, approving. She nodded towards the bathroom. “Well, get to it. I’m getting my gear.”

I had few things to be happy about, that day. A nice hot shower was one of them. It was also the craziest, and kind of a game changer, but I’ll get to that in a few.

At the moment, I was just happy to be out of my clothes, and under hot water, with soap and shampoo on my body.

I thought of everything that’d happened since that morning; all the things I’d found out since I came to Key West. It was all so nuts. Dad would never believe it, nor Mom, certainly not the stepparents, or Stepbitch.

What was going to happen? What did Liz put in me?

I was kind of pissed back at the warehouse, but in the shower, I noticed the anger was gone. I didn’t even feel numb, just . . . curious.

What happens next? I wanted to see. Thinking it over, I realized another thing: I didn’t want to go back, and I don’t mean the warehouse. I didn’t want to go home. I wanted to go forward, into whatever mysterious future came towards me.

A moment later, part of that future came into the shower.

She didn’t knock, or ask if it was okay to come in. The door ankara escort opened and a second later, I was staring, jaw-dropped, at Jade Dragon.

“I’m feeling muggy so I decided not to wait. Comes from wearing that cat suit in this weather. Hand me the soap?”

“Guh!”

“Red, the soap.”

I fumbled the soap to her. “You’re . . . you’re naked!”

“No shit Sherlock. What’s your problem?”

“You’re naked!”

“You spent the better part of an hour watching one of the hottest bodies ever get pumped full of your cum.”

“That’s different!”

“How?”

“I didn’t have a choice. She didn’t either, and we never exactly . . . uh . . . did it. The machine did it for us.”

“So what’s a few semantics?”

“Uh.”

“Would you like me to go?”

Now this was the moment where the game change happened. An earlier me would have said yes, like a month ago before stepbitch’s bet put me on this path. This was me now.

A green-haired woman with a killer body (she shaved like Liz, and her tits, wow!) was asking to shower with me. So what else could I say?

“N-no.”

“Good, then you can wash my back.”

I’d never touched a naked woman before. I’d never seen one before Liz; not on this side of a magazine or a porn site.

I didn’t know what to do exactly. I mean . . . I got her upper and lower back with soap and washcloth but, I think she expected something more.

“Sigh! I shouldn’t be surprised. Virgin up the ass. Turn around, Red.”

“Huh?”

“Turn around so I can wash your hair and back.”

“Um,” I did, even though I’d washed already.

It was different from when I tried it.

She started with my hair and slid her hands down to my neck, and then she went to my shoulders and under my arms.

She slid down my sides, to my hips, and my ass.

“You know, you’re pretty tense.”

And I was. Her hands were so warm and strong, and I was trying hard not to get hard.

A part of me struggled to treat this as non-sexual. I think the block came from years of teasing or laughs from some prick or another, over a physical issue, like my freckles, or hair, or slender body. Erections paint targets on me under those circumstances.

I talked earlier about building a hard shell against bullying. That doesn’t mean something seeps in. There was still a part of me afraid of embarrassment.

Anyway, I’m digressing, I guess. The next thing Jade did was anything but embarrassing.

“This’ll relax you,” she said, and pressed her body to mine. Her boobs were up against my shoulder blades. She was a little taller than me.

She reached around my waist, took my cock, and started to stroke it. “Geep!” That was me when she grabbed it. I very much wasn’t relaxed.

My feelings, I can’t describe them as tense. They were more . . . electric. Like a hyperawareness of everything, from her nude body against my back, to her warm hands on my cock, to the water coming down on us.

I moaned and I gasped and when Jade told me to “Turn around Red,” I turned and faced her, hard, with my eyes wide, and mouth open.

“You really didn’t think it was just about a shower, did you?” she smiled, and then she gave me a deep tongue kiss.

It became . . . I can’t say a blur . . . more like time slowed, I guess.

I was still hyperaware; her tongue in my mouth, the warm syrup engulfing my cock, as she drew it inside her pussy.

She took me in all the way to the hilt, until her mons came right against my groin. Her hands were on my ass, two of her fingers went into my anus.

She broke off the kiss and put her lips to my ear.

“You know, I shouldn’t have to do all the work,” she whispered.

“I . . . don’t . . .”

“Don’t etimesgut escort worry. I’ll teach you.”

And that’s what she did. Jade Dragon taught me how to fuck. How to use my hips to thrust; how to use my hands the same way she used hers. Where to place them, what to do with them, which parts of the body gave the best response. How to kiss, how to suck, how to lick.

I came, and I came hard, so many times. She came too. It was real, she said later. She told me I had natural instincts.

I produced a lot of cum, probably a lingering effect from Doc Hazard’s stimulant. It poured down our legs, and down the drain, along with a bit of hers.

We couldn’t stay in the shower forever. When I turned the water off, Jade said, “Fuck the towels. We’re not done.”

We went to one of the beds and fucked there. Then we went back to the shower, rinsed, got dressed and ordered pizza.

We ate, then took our clothes off, and fucked again. She taught me even more; how to sixty-nine, how to suck my own cum from her pussy, what a blow job felt like, how a pussy grinding against my face felt.

She dominated almost everything. She only let me get on top once, to teach me how to thrust in bed.

Jade said she was submissive mostly when on a job, as a move to get her mark to relax his guard.

We fucked well into the night. At some point we had to stop and go to sleep. She was more tired than me.

I drifted away. Jade was spooned against my back. I thought about the whole irony of the day. My cum had been pumped into Liz, yet technically, I didn’t fuck her. I lost my virginity to the woman at my back.

Wow.

Jade Dragon

I wait until the kid falls asleep, then quietly unspoon and sit up.

I get off the bed and stand, watching him. Fucking the kid was pretty fun.

So was watching you fuck him. I knew you had the jones for Liz. When did you decide on the kid?

Right before we got to the thrift store. I knew he was a virgin. I’d never deflowered anyone before, and I like the idea of being someone’s first.

Asleep, the kid looks pretty fine. The people I fuck, typically, are either fat and ugly, or pumped up and macho, or Abercrombie and Fitched, all with overdoses of ego and narcissism. Toss in more than a few women, some with the same flaws as the men.

I see no ego in this one. Physically, he’s good looking; slender, not athletic, but toned. He doesn’t have the arrogant look I see in so many others. He’s nice and normal. The first “normal” guy I’ve fucked since my teens. My first virgin. That’s something to check off the list.

Congratulations. I suspect the reader offers the same.

There’s another difference between this kid and the others . . . at least most of them.

Oh? What’s that?

He’s still alive.

Oh. Yeah, there’s still that. So what are you going to do?

Get him to the safe house of course.

You’re going to have to check for trouble first.

Why do you think I’m awake?

I get the laptop, hook it up, go to the dark web to get an idea of our situation.

My personal site has several job offers. Those’ll have to wait. The Feds, spooks, and locals are quiet. Latest news says ARF’s cleared out of Key West. No rewards offered for Morris Micklewhite.

Still up for Liz though. Technically, it’s a failed job. In reality, the target shifted. I just wanted to be sure Doc Hazard didn’t know that.

It looks like he doesn’t. The patterns from the messages and info look like Hazard has no interest in Red. Doesn’t look like anyone else is either. His father probably doesn’t even know he’s missing.

From what Morris said, he probably wouldn’t care.

So it looks like we’re in the clear for now. The next task is to arrange transport. I know a guy. He rents out planes.

Right now I need some sleep.

To be continued.

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Life Art: On Display

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Anal

Chapter One

Despite my doubts, I stood again on Madeline’s doorstep. I had agreed last week to come back as her model for another sitting. That was before I had time to process the experience. Sliding up and down on Jeff’s cock was exquisite. But Madeline had seen us together, there on her chaise, me riding Jeff like it wasn’t my first time. I cringed and pushed that thought aside lest I lose my nerve. According to her, she had enjoyed the show.

The problem was not so much Madeline but Jeff. Despite seeing each other on campus the past week, we had not spoken. Before I could lament too deeply on that subject, Madeline opened the door to her warmly lit interior. Dressed in a loose, green satin dress and holding a glass of red wine, Madeline was the essence of sophistication.

“Nice to see you, Lani. I was beginning to wonder.”

I smiled and stepped past her as she held the door. “Sorry I’m late. I had a last-minute assignment from my Biology professor—”.

“It’s alright to be nervous, Lani. You were last time too, as I recall, and look how well that turned out.” I turned away from her knowing grin and walked into her living room, anxious to see how Jeff would react. No one was else was there. I tried to hide my disappointment.

“He isn’t here yet. Have a seat, and I’ll pour you a glass of wine. Unless you’d prefer something else?”

“Wine is good, thank you.” I rarely drank, but it had helped relax me for the previous sitting. I sat on the leather couch, again surveying the gallery’s worth of art on the walls. A thrill hit me as I looked upon the green chaise in the corner and remembered the tantalizing intimacy with Jeff. Perhaps the wine would help dull the growing ache of rejection as well.

Madeline walked back into the room, handed me the wine glass, and relaxed into the chair across from me. She studied me quietly until I shifted nervously under her gaze. Finally, she spoke. “How are you, Lani?”

“I’m good. School’s been a bit rough, but that’s college, right?”

“I wouldn’t know. I never went. I traveled instead, found my teachers elsewhere.”

“Where did you travel?” I asked, more from politeness and the need to keep the conversation mundane.

Madeline eyed me skeptically as if she could sense my diversion. “Oh, the usual, Milan, Barcelona, Paris, Cairo. Those are the places I lived. Of course, my travels have been broader. There are many lovers to be had out there, Lani, if you know where to look.”

I wasn’t quite sure what she was implying, but I didn’t want to show my ignorance by asking questions. She was only in her mid-30s, but her life experience far surpassed my small-town upbringing. Madeline had a way of making me feel unsettled. It’s not that she wasn’t polite or encouraging even, but she had the energy of a feline on a hunt. Her words, her movements, felt like the small, slow steps a cat makes before it pounces on its prey.

“Speaking of lovers, how is Jeff?”

I sputtered comically into my wine. “Uh, he’s fine. He seems fine, anyway.”

“Have you spoken to him this week?” She continued, ignoring my discomfort.

“No. I don’t have his number or anything. We hadn’t really met before here.” I blushed, not sure how much of our post-coital conversation Madeline had overheard. Had I just admitted to her that I popped my cherry with a near stranger? If I had, it was doubtless she cared.

“I thought you two shared a class?”

“Just one. Philosophy.” I said that as if she cared. “It’s usually pretty hectic trying to get from one class to another, so there’s not really much time to chat.”

Madeline’s quiet judgment permeated the room. Her disapproval could only be seen in the slight scrunching of her forehead, but I felt it. Unfortunately, I also felt the need to explain further.

“It’s fine. I mean, what happened last week was a fluke, just us getting caught up in the moment. It was great and all, but it’s not like I expected anything to come of it. I just hope he doesn’t regret it, and that’s why he’s not here. I’m sorry if I ruined your project.”

Madeline leaned forward, elbows on her knees. “Lani, you did not ruin the project. You made it.” She paused here, willing her words to soothe me.

“I thought he enjoyed it. Maybe I was too forward. Honestly, I can’t believe I…” I stopped talking. I had disgusted myself with my vulnerability the past week, rehashing the scene in my mind to figure out why Jeff had not responded to me.

After our first class together, I had waited outside the room, admiring a painting in the hallway. When the throng of people had passed, Jeff with them, I felt the first sense of rejection. I had been giddy to see him again, but he had come into the class late and apparently left without noticing me in the hall. Or perhaps he had not wanted to talk with me. In the next class, I was sure to make eye contact, at least. I smiled when it happened. He smiled back, but when class was over, he jumped out of his seat and left quickly.

I had desperately hoped he would be at Madeline’s. eryaman genç escort I wanted to speak with Jeff, to make a connection. Now, he hadn’t even shown up to finish this project. I blinked away tears of frustration, embarrassed by their show.

Madeline came to sit by me on the couch. She put a delicate hand on my back and toyed with the tendrils of hair escaping from my bun. “Men can be ridiculously unaware, sometimes. Communication is not a strong point for many of them. If they are lucky, they find a woman patient and willing enough to teach them how to be a good partner. Now, you can be that woman. Or, you can seek out others who are already well-versed in communication and relationships. I myself prefer older men. And women, of course.”

As she said this last part, her fingernails danced delicately along the back of my neck. I wasn’t sure how to respond or even how I wanted to respond. I had been a virgin before Jeff, but I had not been inexperienced with men. Women, on the other hand, were a different genre. There had been a girl in my high school that inspired quite explicit fantasies in me. As a female, coming onto a girl in a small midwestern town was a crapshoot, one that could have dire consequences. I never tried. Now, here I was with Madeline. Her words, her nearness, the way she was touching me sent a thrill along my spine, awakening that deeply buried fantasy.

“Lani, will you take off your clothes so I can draw you now?”

Chapter 2

Madeline moved away to prepare the sitting area. As she fussed with lighting and setting the scene, I removed my clothes. I slipped out of my flats, pushed the black leggings down to my ankles, and struggled a bit nervously to get them off my feet. I glanced over to see Madeline watching me. This gave me an unexpected jolt.

Once my pants were off, I stood, and bravely keeping eye contact, clasped the bottom of my shirt and pulled it over my head. There I stood, in my new set of the same black lace bra and panties from the week before. I held still as Madeline took in the view, reminding myself she was watching me with an artist’s eye, nothing more.

“Your hair too, Lani. I want it down.”

I did as she requested, enjoying the tickling brush of hair on my nearly naked back.

Madeline pulled her gaze away and said, “Alright then, Lani. Come over here to the chaise and lay on your side facing me, let that arm underneath bend and cradle your head. Now, try and let your body relax. Seduce, as if you feel your lover’s eyes on your body and are trying to call him, or her, to you.”

Her hands were cool and soft against my skin as she fussed with my hair and gently positioned my arm so my hand lay delicately against my stomach. Without pulling back her hand, she slowly slid her fingers along my hip and thigh, gently grabbing behind my leg, just above my knee.

“Let this leg bend and come forward a little.” Her hand lingered on my skin as she studied the position. “Beautiful, now hold this.”

Madeline went to stand at her easel, studying me with the intensity of an artist. I thought longingly of the wine and wished I had taken a few more fortifying sips.

“Point your toes a little, please. Tilt your chin towards me a bit so I can see more of your beautiful face. There you go.”

I waited for Madeline to start drawing. I grew uncomfortable under her still gaze until she broke and walked towards me again.

She knelt down and reached towards me. Her hand stopped in mid-air, and she asked, “May I?” At my nod, she slipped her finger under my bra strap and slid it partway down my arm, as she had last time. This time, however, she did not expose my nipple and looked almost uncertain. There was an intimacy, a shyness from her that I had not experienced before. When Jeff was here, she had been direct, in control, domineering almost. But now, she felt soft and open, and I found myself wanting her to lean forward and kiss me.

In that unspoken communication of desire, she must have heard me. Her eyes darted to mine, and I saw a question there. Mustering confidence from a deeply hidden yearning, spurred by the quiet intimacy of the moment, I let my lips part. She took the invitation.

My first thought was that her lips were softer than a man’s. Her hand on my arm was less demanding. Our tongues twirled around each other. She moved her hand to my back and slid it down to my hip, slipping her hand under the lace and kneading my flesh.

I curled my body towards her more, deepening the kiss, reveling in the taste of wine and Madeline. My fingers spread into the silky black strands of her bob and danced along the smooth skin of her neck. I wanted to feel her body, her skin, pressed against mine.

Her hand clasped the back of my thigh, urging my leg to open for her as she moved forward onto the chaise.

A knock on the door stopped us.

Madeline reared back in surprise. She stood quickly, adjusted the straps of her dress, and swiped fingers at the corners of her mouth. She reached for a ankara escort bayan robe and handed it to me with a look of apologetic longing.

In my stunned state, I watched, only sitting when she offered the robe. Then I stood, unfolded the cloth, and slipped my body into it. Madeline was near the door, watching and waiting for me to cover myself. I nodded when I was ready, and she opened the door.

“Jeff. You made it. We weren’t sure you would make it.”

My heart sped up. How could I have forgotten about Jeff?

Jeff was chattering some excuse for his lateness to Madeline as he walked into the space. When he saw me, his demeanor shifted. His smile softened, and concern touched his eyes. He slowed his steps as if he were approaching a frightened animal.

“Hey Lani, how are you?”

“I’m good. How about you?”

“I’m alright. That Philosophy paper has me stressing a bit, but you know…”

Madeline leaned against the wall with her wine now in hand, watching from the sidelines with smugness as Jeff and I floundered. She waited for Jeff to finish his trailing sentence, which he didn’t, and stepped further into the room with the confidence I was used to seeing from her.

“Well, Jeff, like I said, we weren’t sure you were coming, so we began without you. I had Lani in quite a stunning pose when you showed up, but I guess I can finish that with her another time.” Madeline winked slyly at me.

“Oh, I didn’t mean to intrude or interrupt. I can leave if you want to get back to it.”

“No, no. You’re here now. I’ll just get you a glass of wine, shall I? You two have a seat on the couch and catch up.”

Jeff moved awkwardly over to me as Madeline walked out of the room. I watched him as he tried to speak, starting and stopping with indecision. Finally, he settled on, “So what have you been up to?”

“Not much.”

We stood there silently for a moment, listening to Madeline in the kitchen, opening cabinets, and pouring wine. I could tell she was taking her time. I let out a deflated breath, annoyed at Jeff for the past week of silence, but also for his interruption. I had never been intimately touched by a woman, and I longed for more.

“Look, Jeff,” I started before I lost my nerve, “It doesn’t need to be weird between us. I mean, I’m not sure how exactly we’re supposed to act with each other, but acknowledging each other in public seems like a mature thing to do.”

“What do you mean?” He looked genuinely confused.

“I mean, you can at least say hi to me in class. Maybe walk up to me afterward and be friendly.”

“I… I’m sorry, Lani. I just wasn’t sure if you wanted me to, you know. I was afraid you might be embarrassed to talk to me or that maybe you regretted what happened. I wasn’t sure how you would react.”

“You could have tried. Geez, Jeff. I waited nineteen years to have sex, and you were my first. I’m not saying I want to date or anything, but damn, a fucking hello would be nice.” I had not realized how mad I was until the f-word came out. Instantly I wanted to take it back, take back the whole conversation and just tell him it was ‘cool,’ that everything was fine and I didn’t need a thing from him.

But I did. I needed to know that for him as well, the encounter was beautiful and sexy, a pleasant memory when he saw me. I wanted to know that it meant something to him, that I meant something to him. I cursed my near nudity under the robe. I felt vulnerable enough, trying to express myself to Jeff, someone I barely knew. This was not going well.

I turned away under the guise of looking for my wine and tried to brush off the conversation. “Anyway, whatever. It’s not a big deal. Just forget about it.”

I felt the movement of air as he stepped close to me. I turned around, but before I could say anything, he slipped his hands around the back of my neck and kissed me. I wondered, for a moment, how I should accept this kiss. I put my hand to his chest to push him back.

“What are you doing, Jeff?”

He stepped back slightly, and I felt the absence of his nearness.

“I’m so sorry, Lani. I didn’t know how to act. That night, that was like a fantasy. You were so damn hot, and well, when I thought about it afterward, you being a virgin and all, and the way you rushed out of here before we could talk, I was afraid that maybe you regretted it.” He had lifted up his hands while talking and suddenly let them fall to his side in defeat. “I’m sorry I just kissed you. I thought… ugh, I’ve really screwed this up.” His discomfort, along with his words, was apology enough.

I stepped towards him and returned the kiss. His lips pressed desperately against mine, urging my mouth to open. He slid his tongue inside, and I reveled in his urgency. Our tongues explored each other for a moment before he pulled away and rested his forehead against mine.

I could have cried then, silly tears of frustration and relief. I thought of Madeline’s words from earlier, how men weren’t great communicators. Of course, I didn’t sincan escort remember my Mom being great at communicating with my Dad either. I pushed the thought of parents quickly aside and looked at Jeff. I wondered if I should fill him in on how immature and silly this conversation felt. Thankfully, Madeline saved us both from that embarrassment.

“Well, I see you’re reacquainted.”

I could almost hear the disapproval in her tone. This is quite the awkward mess you’ve gotten yourself into.

“Jeff, you might as well get out of your clothes now that you’re both warmed up. I expect there will be some lovely heat between you two for this sitting. Lani, drop the robe, please.”

Jeff and I stepped back from each other and fumbled around in embarrassment. I took a long drink of wine to steady myself. It went quickly to my head, and I fussed around, slipping out of my robe. Madeline watched me, but I was too unsure of my standing at the moment to meet her eyes. I was in a room with two people I was strongly attracted to. Jeff had already been inside me, and Madeline, I found, I longed now to explore.

“Alright big boy,” Madeline said playfully, “come sit here on the chaise. Let’s see what you’ve got tonight.”

Madeline instructed Jeff to sit on the chaise, feet on the ground, legs apart.

“Lani, come behind Jeff. Wrap your legs around him and drape them over his. There you go, lean into him. Now, drape your arm over his shoulder and wrap the other around his waist.” She rummaged in a basket on her shelf and came to us with a red silk scarf in her hand.

My first thought was that she would gag one of us, something I didn’t think I would be into. Instead, she tied it around my wrist, the one draped over Jeff’s shoulder.

“Jeff, wrap this around your hand a few times and keep it taut, like your holding her against you. Let your lips rest on that arm.”

Jeff pulled the silk, so the cloth was stretched, tugging my arm and pulling me firmly against his back. My breasts pressed into him, and he gently rubbed my thigh.

“Tell me if this is too tight, Lani.”

“I’m fine.”

Madeline continued, “Lani, lean your face against his arm and look out at me.” She fussed with my hair, smoothing it down along Jeff’s arm.

When she did this, I had the urge to grab her wrist and playfully nibble along her slender limb until I reached her shoulder. I wanted to taste her lips again.

Madeline let her hand linger on my shoulder before stepping back to her easel. When she turned towards us, she smiled playfully at me and began to draw.

I watched her, alternating between sketching and tapping the pencil against her lips as she studied our pose. Madeline was a striking woman with bobbed, sleek dyed-black hair and piercing green eyes. Her curves were delicate, but she exuded a sensual power. Even her arrogance was a draw. I wasn’t sure arrogance was the word to describe her. In control, domineering, these were better adjectives. She had qualities I find disturbing in men, but in Madeline, they were downright seductive.

Her spaghetti strapped dress hung loosely on her shoulders, and I wanted to lift it over her head for a long look at her body underneath. She was so lost in what she was drawing on paper that I don’t think she realized I was staring intently. When she did, even just her realization gave me a thrill.

Madeline put the pencil to her lips, using her tongue to toy with the tip. She made a few more marks on her paper, then quietly put down her pencil. She brought her arms slowly overhead in a stretch, arching her back gracefully to push out her chest. Her breasts were small, but her nipples, large and erect, pressed against the satin. I could almost feel the smooth texture against my tongue as I imagined drawing them into my mouth.

I must have shifted in agitation because Jeff loosened his hold on the scarf and turned towards me.

“Are you doing alright back there?”

“Um yeah, well, my arm is a bit numb. Madeline, do you mind if we take a quick break?”

She didn’t answer me for a moment. Scrunching her face to study the drawing. “Fine,” she responded shortly. I’m not sure this pose is working anyway. Have a stretch.”

Jeff and I stood and wiggled our bodies around to work out the kinks.

“Can I use your bathroom?” Jeff asked.

“Down the hall, first door on your left,” Madeline responded distractedly from her easel. As soon as the bathroom door closed, she spoke to me.

“Do you want me to touch you, Lani?”

I looked at her, confused. Did she mean right now? Since when had she asked before? We could hear the tell-tale sound of a man releasing his bladder, and I told Madeline I wasn’t sure what she meant.

She came to me then, slid her hands around my waist and down to my hips. “Do you want me to touch you? You wanted it before. Do you want it now?” I thought of those pert nipples against the satin. Her cool hands smooth against my skin. I suddenly wished Jeff was not here.

Before I could respond beyond a simple nod, the toilet flushed, and the sink turned on. Madeline leaned forward and kissed me with those soft lips. All I could think of was how moist and inviting they felt. By the time the bathroom door opened and Jeff came out, Madeline was back at her easel.

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Gender Swap Week Pt. 03

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Asian

After the intense experience at my workplace, I needed to change. I needed a shower. I needed to reset. Looking at myself in the rearview mirror of my suburu, my unfamiliar red locks cascading down my crumpled long sleeve shirt, stretched tight by the full bust. The gender flip week had impacted everyone – and the results were chaotic. For me, it had turned my Will Riker beard and physique into a leggy redhead with intense sexual stamina.

My wife and I had given each other a hall pass for the week. I think Brenna had just wanted an opportunity to have sex as a man – she always favored women sexually anyway and now to experience it with a penis? But for me, I had never intended anything more than some light flirting.

How wrong I was. There was a fire that had gotten a hold of me and I couldn’t shake it. Already, I had begun a violent and passionate relationship with my sister-in-law Becka, and had just finished fucking every hard cock who wanted me at my workplace. How could I even show my face again? My unfamiliar face . . . only a few more days to get through. I needed a fresh start. Like I said, a reset. I grabbed my gym bag from home and dragged my disheveled mess of a self to the YMCA.

The building was old and had all the charm of a school gymnasium but it was cheap and cleanish. I beeped my way past the front desk and made it all the way to the men’s locker room on autopilot. I opened the door and made my way past the men, toweled and shirtless. My appearance drew some attention as I squared up in front of an unoccupied locker.

“Hey, hey!” A larger man, broad shouldered, black, and bald, snapped his fingers in front of my head as I started to pull my shirt off. “You can’t be in here. Wrong locker room.”

I looked around. The men had all turned towards me. Big men, small men, young men and old, faces intense or amused or concerned. I looked down at my full womanly curves, the large DD breasts that threatened to spill out of my top and the black pleated skirt that showed off my pale thighs.

“Oh. Right. Sorry guys!” I tried to keep it light, my mind racing. What if I had stayed there, what would they have done to me? I took some shaky breaths, my cheeks burning with embarrassment as I fled the locker room and made my way down the hallway to the women’s locker room.

Relax, Ryan, they were probably just as confused and disoriented as you were. My reassurances ring hollow remembering the way that some of them looked at me. God, this gender flip week was exhausting, everyone was just horny as hell.

The women’s locker room was, unsurprisingly, not that different from the men’s, a mirrored layout of lockers and communal showers, a sauna room and an entrance to the pool. Four women were in various states of undress, an older woman in her late fifties, uncaringly stepping out of the shower, a statuesque blonde pulling a tight sports shirt over a slender bust, two brunettes in their forties, gabbing away as they tied their tennis shoes. I find a locker in the corner and pop it open without a second glance.

CLATTER. A cell phone on a tripod falls out of the locker and onto the floor. I put down my bag and peered at the contraption. Yes, it was duct taped to the inside of the locker, tilted at such an angle as to give a panoramic view of the locker room. Someone was being a peeping tom.

I looked around, but no one was paying any attention. It was still recording, so the naughty spy probably was not far – it was a proper phone so they would not have wanted to leave it for long. Most likely they set it up, when to do their work out and hoped they would get lucky.

Who could have set this up? The most logical choice would be another man like myself, affected by the Gender Swap week, who was spying on his fellow women. After the week was over, he would have some great footage for his spank bank. Or at least, he would have if I hadn’t chosen his locker to use.

Wild thoughts raced through my head. Maybe there eryaman escortlar was a way to have fun and not get carried away, I told myself. I carefully replaced the phone in its hiding spot, making sure I was standing right in the center of its view. I gave it a big saucy wink and slowly pulled my shirt over my head, revealing my full breasts clumsily contained by Brenna’s old black bra. I ran a hand through my curly locks and shook my shoulders slowly before unhooking the bra and tossing it aside.

My nipples, pale and hard, drew those breasts to proud points. I gave the nipples a gentle tweak, sending a shiver of pleasure through my body. I felt that same thrill, that heart pounding delirium, to be drunk on the power of your own arousal was an incredible feeling.

I reach down and hook my thumbs into my skirt, sliding it down my full hips, passing my long white thighs till it pools at my feet leaving me in the simple black panties. I turn around and drop the panties, making sure to give the camera a nice loving look. I slap my cheek, leaving a little handprint, oh I am way too into this. I sit down on the bench and spread my legs, giving the camera a full view of my short, red curls and glistening lips.

I reach down and teasingly trace the outside of my lips, biting my lip to keep from moaning, before making lazy circles around my clit. The sensation was overwhelming and my head fell back, eyes closed, lost in the slowly building pleasure.

“Uhnnnnggnn.” I moan and then quickly look around. The older woman who had stepped out of the shower had glanced around the row of lockers.

“You okay, dude?” She, well, I guess, he says. I snap my legs together and shoot off an embarrassed, “yeah, I’m good.” over my shoulder.

I lean in conspiratorially to the camera, “Hope you liked that. Find me if you want to see more.” I whisper before throwing on my gym clothes and heading out to the weight room.

###

My wife’s old workout clothes were not well-suited to my new frame – the sports bra was too tight, the shorts doing a poor job of covering my acres of leg, but it was good enough for the YMCA on a Thursday afternoon. I hit the cardio machines for a solid twenty without too much trouble before doing some free weight lunges and barbell curls.

I’m not sure if the calories I gained during this week stayed with me after the gender flip or if this was all worthless anyway but it helped clear my mind and that was worth it alone. The gym was only sparsely attended; a rail-thin old man hitting the treadmill, the statuesque blonde woman doing pull-ups and two younger white guys, college kids maybe, doing more talking than motion on the nautilus machines.

The large black man, the one who snapped at me earlier, was doing reps with some of the larger barbells. He gave me an appreciative once over when I entered but had not said a word as I joined him in the free weights section. Still riding high from the video in the locker, I made sure to plant myself fully in his range of vision as I did my lunges, twists and curls.

Catching him out of the corner of my eye, it was clear he had lost whatever momentum he had, sitting dumbly on the bench, idly holding a 25 pound weight, watching as I did bends in front of him. I let him watch, my thoughts running wild.

I wonder what he would look like naked. I wonder what his cock would look like, how he would look when I put him inside me? His muscular frame straining, arms like tree trunks pushing me down . . . Pace yourself, I took a deep breath. The goal was NOT to leap into another physical encounter. Just finish up your workout.

I did one more set and then took a deep draught of the water fountain. When I came up for air, he was there beside me.

“Hey, miss, I owe you an apology.” He begins. I quickly shake my head.

“Oh no need, I was just, wooo, you know,” I giggle. He smiles.

“Oh I know, this whole week has me just . . .all turned around.” He says. He ankara escort bayan extends a big hand, “I’m Christina.” He says. I take his hand, my white slender fingers feeling tiny in his grasp.

“I’m Ryan.” I say. “Pleased to meet you. Are you a Y member?” He shakes his head.

“Nope, not much of a workout person really but since I’ve got this all going on,” he gestures to his broad meaty shoulders. “I wanted to try it out, see how much I could lift.” I reach out and rub his arm appreciatively.

“Oh yeah, that’s pretty solid.” He smiles and blushes.

“Hey,” he began. “I don’t usually do this but like I said, this week,”

I look up at him expectantly. “Yes?”

“Do you want to grab a cup of coffee or something after this? I don’t know what your situation is, or, um, I just . . . I want to get to know you.” He finishes clumsily. I give him a full smile.

“Yeah, I’d like that alot. Just let me get showered and I’ll meet you out front.” My cheeks are burning, a date? With a man? Fuck. The goal was not to get too entangled. Although, my wife won’t be off work for another couple of hours and he was cute.

He was cute? Gah, the longer this week stretches on the more my sexual orientation has reoriented. I flee back to the locker room, sweaty and flustered. I head to my locker to find a towel and she is waiting for me.

My peeping tom. In the flesh. She’s no more than five feet, tops, with high cheekbones, jet back hair cut short and swept to the side in a loose fitting t-shirt and leggings. She looked about 22 and was sitting right next to where she had hidden her camera, trying to look discreet but the moment her eyes locked with mine, her face lit up with a mix of shame, embarrassment and excitement. No doubt about it, this was my voyeur.

“Hey.” I say simply, glancing around the mostly empty locker room. “What’s your name?”

She waited too long to answer, fumbling for something plausible. “Your real name, please.” I reiterate.

“Ashton.” I nod. “I’m Ryan.” I grab my towel out of my gym bag.

“So what was your plan? Get a little for your spank bank to enjoy once all this is over?” I ask.

“Pretty much.” She admits.

“Well, I appreciate the honesty.” I said.

“Are you going to turn me in?” Ashton asks. I hadn’t thought too far about it. Ashton was cute with her edgy 90s girl look. I briefly considered extorting some sexual favors – goodness knows she was hot enough that I could swing that way. My usual way, I reminded myself. But no, my head was full of Christina, and my nipples tightened in the cool air just thinking about him. And what he could do to me. With me. TO me.

Fuck, I knew what I wanted. And maybe Ashton could help.

“Look, you want to make it up to me? You want to make sure I don’t go blabbing to the YMCA or the police or whoever?” I ask.

“Whomever.” Ashton mumbles. “Yeah.” I grab her phone out of her hand and punch in my throwaway email address.

“Here – I’m going to give you something really good to film, but you have to send me a copy. Deal?” Ashton’s eyes light up.

“Really? Here?” I shake my head.

“Not here.”

###

The men’s locker room is nearly deserted, thank the gods, as you and Ashton march inside. I can hear the sounds of rushing water from the communal showers and make a beeline to them. Peeking inside you see Christina, his muscular back turned to you, humming softly to himself and soaping his chest.

You quickly pull off your clothes and give Ashton a nod. She takes up a discrete post to start filming as you enter the showers.

“Let me help you with that.” I purr into Christina’s ear, pressing my naked body up against his back and sliding my hands around his chest. He goes stiff,

“Ryan? What the hell?” He says with no venom at all, my hands rubbing his firm torso, my soft breasts squishing against his body in the warm water. I nibble on his ear lobe.

“Look, you and I both know what elvankent escort bayan we want.” I reach down and grasp his firm cock, stiffening in my grasp, “Why not skip the coffee and just get to the fun part?” I slowly stroke him; base to tip and then back to base. He thickens, my hands barely able to reach around him.

“Oh fuck . . . I don’t know.” I move my hand faster, more purposefully. With my other arm around his body, I pull him back, perpendicular to the shower, giving Ashton the view of Christina’s massive cock, rising up above a truly spectacular set of balls.

I get down on my knees, wincing at the hard wet tiles, but quickly forgetting my discomfort as I jam the bulbous head of his johnson into my mouth. I can barely get my mouth around it. I flick the slit with my tongue and am rewarded with a rumbling groan somewhere in the wet vortex of shower water above me.

Grabbing the shaft with both hands, I push in as much as I can and suck, jacking his cock for all it’s worth. He starts thrusting in time with my ministrations, faster and harder. His penis swells, weeping salty pre-cum. I pull the cock out with an audible pop.

“Don’t cum yet, I want you inside of me.” I say. I give his throbbing manhood a teasing lick and gentle stroke but he reaches down and with those big meaty hands under my arms, lifts me to my feet.

“Now. We will fuck now.” With a rough jerk, he turns me around, pushing my legs apart. Oh fuck. The roughness goes right to my pussy, now as wet as the shower around me.

With one hand on my hip, he lines up his cock and slowly, agonizingly slowly, pushes it inside me.

“oOOooooooo” I moan lewdly, spreading my cheeks to provide easier access as he bends his knees to get that angle just right. I feel full, stretched, complete but he keeps pushing, putting more and more of his big black cock inside me.

I turn back, looking at him in amazement and horror as he finally, finally, reaches the base of his cock. My body quivers at the full length of him, squeezing him from the inside.

He grabs my hips with both hands, his fingers hot, pressing into the soft flesh of my curves and he begins to move. He slides himself back out and in, slowly, deliberately, bottoming out and building a rhythm.

My world is spinning, the heat, the sensation, the raw feeling of him inside me. I stare at the mottled tiles in front of me as the wet slapping fills the air, his thrusts more forceful, causing my vision to swim.

“Uh huh. Uh huh! Uhhhhh!!’ I moan as he jacks off with my pussy, my body flailing limply as he uses me for his own pleasure. Faster and harder he fucks me up against that wall. I press back, bent over to give him the best angle but he didn’t care, he just railed into me.

Eyes shut, body taut like a bow, muscles churning, he worked behind me. Finally, I feel him swell inside me, becoming even bigger if that is possible as he slammed me tight against him. He howled, a mighty, primal roar and I felt a gush inside as his cock belched hot, sticky seed deep inside my twat. Load after load, he delivered into my cunt, till his cock was ringed with white at the base and it dripped out onto the shower floor.

I took a ragged breath, and turned off the shower, pulling the wet hair from my face as he slowly pulled out of me, delivering another wet splat of cum onto the shower drain. Suddenly, his lips were on mine as our bodies pressed together in a wet, post-coital kiss.

Finally, we pull apart.

“Thanks.” He says. “That was amazing.” I glance past him to see Ashton, her pants unbuckled, her hand working frantically within her panties as she leans up against the sauna door.

“I’m so glad I could help.” You say, still breathless. “Catch you later.” And with that, I stagger, bow-legged, back to my own towel and pile of clothes, trying to make sense of what happened. Ashton pulls back out of sight as I move past but I pay her no mind.

I dry off and dress as quickly as I’m able and slip out of the men’s locker room, the cool air of the building a bracing refresher. Finally in the right mind, I glance at my phone.

Seventeen missed messages from my wife Brenna and two from Becka. Oh shit. I think, what the hell happened now?

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Dream Guy Ch. 01

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Ass

My first encounter with Madeline ‘Maddie’ Bunker was at a poetry evening in the back room of a pub. I’m not a poet myself, much preferring to work out in the gym, but my mate Jeremy was a member and he was nervous about reading his work in public. I was there purely to lend him moral support. However, the open-mike evening I was expecting turned out to be eight people sat round a scratched oval table, reading poems. Jeremy and I were the only men, and the women included a lesbian couple who began the session with sonnets about vaginas in love. I still have teeth-marks on my finger from trying not to laugh.

Maddie was sitting across from me and I remember thinking ‘Ugh!’ the moment I saw her: Short punky hair, John Lennon glasses with blue lenses, and a jumper of quite spectacular ugliness, with woolly knobbles hanging off it. Halfway through the evening, she pulled it off to reveal a white T-shirt with ‘STOP SEXISM!’ in white letters on a red octagon, like the road-sign. Everyone around me cooed in admiration, but to my eyes it looked like: Stop, so that Sexism can cross the road safely.

‘Don’t you like my T-shirt?’ said Maddie.

‘What T-shirt?’ I said. ‘I was looking at your tits.’

There was stunned silence and I got evil looks from everyone, including Jeremy. I stayed for his poetry reading but sneaked out soon afterwards. I assumed I was persona non grata, so it was quite a surprise when my phone rang a week later, and it was Maddie.

‘Jason Noble?’ said the voice.

‘Yes?’

‘It’s Maddie Bunker.’

‘Who?’ I said, having forgotten her name and actually having no clue who she was in the first place.

‘I was at the poetry evening,’ said the voice. ‘You said you liked my tits.’

‘Oh. You.’

‘Yeah, me. Listen, there’s a pub concert at the Six Hammers tonight. D’you want to go?’

I didn’t really, but I was curious to see Maddie again. It’s funny how ‘Ugh!’ turns into ‘Hmm, I wonder…’ when a girl takes the trouble to acquire your phone number and calls you out of the blue. I cleaned myself up and left to meet her at the saloon bar of the pub.

I arrived on time, but Maddie was already there, having nabbed a small table in the only window seat. Seeing her, I was reminded of why I didn’t think she was my type — she wore glasses with red frames and flared pants with coloured diamond patterns. She looked like a little rich girl trying to look like a hippy. But the pants were tight showing off a round muscular bottom, and she really did have a nice pair of tits, this time under a way more attractive Matisse-print sweatshirt. I remembered her saying during the poetry evening that she went to the gym herself and when she got up to greet me, I saw it for myself. She had the kind of body that we Brits call ‘Fit as Fuck’.

Maddie insisted on buying me a drink, so I waited for her in the window seat, looking around at the other drinkers. There were a lot of student types — enough to make a man of thirty-three like me feel old. I reckoned Maddie was older too, but only just. Mid-twenties, perhaps. On the small table before me, I noticed a half-finished Bloody Mary and an empty glass containing a lemon slice and traces of cola. Maddie came over with my pint of bitter, and I got to my feet.

‘Well, well, a gentleman!’ she said, handing me the pint glass. ‘Sit down, Jason. There’s something I need to tell you.’

I sat down and moved so she could sit next to me. She took a deep breath.

‘My boyfriend is playing in the band downstairs,’ she said. ‘And I asked you here to make him jealous.’

I blinked. I took a long pull of my pint. I looked at the empty cola glass, then looked at Maddie. She shrugged, as if to say, ‘Isn’t life weird?’

‘Is this some sort of payback?’ I asked.

‘For what?’

‘My remark about your tits.’

‘No! I thought it was funny!’ Maddie took a swig of her Bloody Mary. ‘Look, I believe in equality and all that, but those lesbians were so fucking uptight! I liked it that you had the balls to wind them up.’

‘Hmm.’

I took another pull of bitter, wondering whether to be mad at Maddie. It seemed pointless. Okay, maybe she was using me… but what else would I be doing? Sitting at home watching telly perhaps or masturbating to Internet porn? At least this way I was getting out of my apartment.

‘So, what’s going on with your boyfriend?’ I said.

‘Long story.’

‘Let me put it another way. If you succeed in making him jealous, will he try and kill me?’

‘No! No way! Conall wouldn’t hurt a fly!’

‘Conall?’

‘Conall McKinnon!’ She switched to a bad Scottish accent. ‘All the way from Bonnie Scotland!’ She switched back. ‘Isn’t it a cool name?’

It was actually. I hated him already. I hated him even more when Maddie showed me photos on her smartphone. They weren’t snaps either — these were professional photographs from a fashion shoot. Yes, Conall McKinnon was a male model. He had the long, auburn hair of a girl, but it somehow made eryaman anal yapan escort the ultra-masculine contours of his perfect features all the more startling. He was like a caricature of handsomeness; the kind of young man who walks into a club and sets all the girls nudging one another and giggling. I wanted to punch him in the face. Or — even better — fuck his girlfriend behind his back. Maddie Bunker had just been promoted from ‘Hmm, I wonder…’ to ‘I have GOT to have you!’

‘So, what do you think?’ said Maddie, with unseemly eagerness.

‘Seems like a nice guy,’ I lied, or hoped I was lying. ‘Why do you want to make him jealous?’

Maddie sighed.

‘Listen,’ she said, ‘it would take too long to explain, and the gig is starting in five minutes.’

‘Well, I’d rather hear your story than see some band in a basement,’ I said. ‘Besides, if the goal is to make your boyfriend jealous, having him wonder where the hell you are only to find you up here with me would work way better.’

‘Holy fuck,’ said Maddie, staring at me through her glasses. ‘And people say women are manipulative!’

‘But it would be a real mind-fuck. You sure you want to do that to him?’

‘Of course! But I buy the drinks, okay? I still feel a bit guilty about dragging you out under false pretences.’

‘You can pay until you run out of guilt. Then we’ll go Dutch.’

‘Deal!’

Maddie stuck out her hand and we shook. Her hand was small, strong and dry — I enjoyed the feel of it and was sorry to let it go. She finished her Bloody Mary and went to get another round of drinks. This time, I ignored the other drinkers, watching her rather splendid bottom and thighs for the few precious moments she had her back turned. When she was back sitting next to me, I told my Inner Caveman to go sit in the corner, took a sip from my fresh pint of bitter and turned my full attention to her story.

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

On finishing university, Maddie and a female friend went on a mountain biking trip to Scotland. They took a coach to Inverness, then planned to cycle around the Highlands for a couple of weeks. Maddie’s friend quit after three days.

‘She was such a whiner!’ said Maddie. ‘ “I didn’t realise there’d be so many hills!” I mean, it’s called the Highlands, for fuck’s sake!’

Maddie continued biking alone, heading north around a mountain called Ben Wyvis. The sun was shining, the scenery was breath-taking, and Maddie just followed the winding roads, staying the night in village pubs or B&Bs. Then, one evening, she was having dinner in one such pub, when a young man with a guitar took a seat on the small platform which acted as a stage. ‘Conall McKinnon,’ he said into the microphone and he began to play.

‘It was like a scene in a movie,’ said Maddie. ‘I’m sitting in a pub full of yokels, all of them men, all looking at me, like, “What’s this weird Sassenach girl doing here?”, and then suddenly this vision–this Dream Guy–steps into the spotlight and starts to play. I was so shocked I think the food fell out of my mouth. I’m not kidding! He was gorgeous!’

It turned out that he was also religious — one of five sons from a family of highly Christian cattle farmers. None of the mostly grown-up children had been further abroad than Aberdeen. Glasgow was referred to as ‘Babylon’, and England may as well have been a foreign country. (Which technically it is, but as part of the United Kingdom… it’s complicated.) Conall’s father still harboured a grudge against the English for executing William Wallace in 1305.

‘You’re joking!’ I said.

‘I’m not,’ said Maddie.

‘What did they think of Braveheart?’

‘They’ve never seen it. Conall never even heard of it. There was no telly or movies in the McKinnon household. No “devil’s music” either. Conall’s songs were all Gaelic ballads and shit.’

But despite his family’s best efforts, Conall hadn’t reached the age of twenty without having heard of The Beatles, Queen and U2. Even Madonna. Not all of Conall’s schoolmates had parents as strictly religious as his. And Lennox, his eldest brother, had smuggled in a portable tape recorder which Conall kept hidden under a loose floorboard in the barn where the cattle feed was stored. His tales of acquiring new batteries without his parents’ knowledge had Maddie’s jaw on the floor. It also convinced her that this handsome boy needed to be saved from his family.

‘It took me two weeks to talk him into running away with me,’ she said. ‘I had to borrow money from my parents so I could stay on at the pub. And when Conall did finally agree, the whole thing nearly went to shit because the bus driver wouldn’t let me take my mountain bike on the bus! We argued and then Conall said maybe this was God’s way of telling him that he shouldn’t go. I was close to tears!’

‘What did you do?’

‘A middle-aged woman came forward and basically told the bus driver to stop being a dick. I think she knew what was going on with ankara escort me and Conall. I mean, there are some men you just have to break the rules for, do you know what I mean?’

I took a drink to cover the fact that this really fucking hurt. I’d been in relationships before, of course, but no woman had ever gone to this kind of trouble over me. I tried to imagine a woman wanting me that much and realised, deep in my soul, that it was never going to happen. I was getting highly jealous of Conall-fucking-McKinnon.

‘So, what happened next?’ I said, keeping my voice even.

Maddie and Conall eventually arrived back in London. Maddie had a room in a shared house and, to begin with, Conall stayed with her. But Maddie’s two female housemates didn’t like the arrangement and they had to look for their own place.

‘They were jealous, of course!’ said Maddie. ‘Everyone reckoned Conall was way too good-looking to be my boyfriend and they were mad as hell. But the stupid thing was, we weren’t even having sex! Sure, we kissed and he let me give him blow-jobs, but his head was so full of this Jesus crap, he wouldn’t take it any further! Talk about frustrating!’

A couple of months after finding their own rental flat, Maddie was working two jobs–barista by day, waitress by night–while Conall joined a band who were playing the pub circuit. This meant he could pay for the occasional Chinese dinner, and Maddie had to pay for everything else. Then Conall was approached by a photographer after a gig who said he had modelling potential. The young man was invited for lunch.

‘Conall asked me to go with him because he said the photographer was “a bit strange”,’ said Maddie. ‘It turned out that he was as gay as a Christmas tree — and he was not happy to see me, I can tell you!’

But the guy was a legitimate photographer with a professional network. He offered to make Conall a portfolio at a discount on condition that he could also act as his agent. Maddie borrowed money from her father to make it happen and she attended all the photo shoots. In the end, Maddie was impressed with the work, and she loved telling people that her boyfriend was a male model.

‘I know it’s shallow,’ said Maddie. ‘But it’s just so satisfying, you know? All these girlie-girls see me as a Plain Jane who dresses wacky to hide the fact that she wears glasses — and who is certainly not going to attract a man that they would be interested in. Then they see Conall’s photo, and their mouths drop open like their brain has just dribbled out of their ears! And it’s even better when they see him in person!’

A couple of months later, the investment paid off. The photographer got Conall onto a three-day fashion shoot for which he was paid a cool two thousand pounds. Conall asked for a draft cheque, then went straight home to Maddie and told her he wanted her to have it. She told him he could keep it providing they please, please, please have proper sex now. Conall shook his head and said that it made him feel like a gigolo. He put the cheque on the couch next to her. Maddie burst into tears and Conall stood there watching as she poured out weeks and weeks of frustration and sadness. When she was finished, Conall apologised and said he hadn’t realised he was being selfish. He still wanted Maddie to have the money so she could pay her father back, but he also agreed to engage in proper sexual intercourse. After that, they went into the bedroom, took off their clothes and had sex.

‘It lasted maybe five minutes,’ said Maddie, staring at the ice cubes in her Bloody Mary. ‘I mean, I knew he was a virgin and all that, and maybe it was unfair of me to expect too much… but Jesus Christ! After all that time! That was the moment I stared up at the ceiling thinking: Madeline, what the fuck are you doing?’

Life went on and Conall’s modelling work, though sporadic, did help with the finances. The sex became regular and got progressively better. And, apart from a visit from Lennox which left Conall in tears, the rest of his family seemed resigned to their son’s departure from the Christian way of life. Things were okay for some months.

Then the band acquired a lead singer called Serena Smith.

‘Or Serena Fuck-Off-And-Die Smith, as I prefer to call her,’ said Maddie. ‘Serena of the blond hair, blue eyes and big tits! I mean, how is any girl supposed to compete with that?’

‘Did he cheat on you?’ I asked.

‘No! Worse!’

I blinked. Worse?

‘He comes home late from a gig,’ said Maddie. ‘And he wakes me up and says: “Maddie, I have something to tell you.” And I think ‘Shit!’ but I keep my cool and say, “What?” And he says: “I was talking with Serena after the show, and she wants to have a sexual relationship with me.” His exact words!’

‘What did you say?’

‘I said: “No fucking way!” Then he said, “I thought you’d say that. That’s why I told Serena I’d have to talk to you first.” ‘

I burst out laughing.

‘I know, right?’ said etimesgut escort Maddie. ‘Anyway, I’m really upset–obviously–and ask him how he can tell me something like this. And he sits there on the bed and says: “But Maddie, you said I should always be honest with you. That I can trust you with anything, absolutely anything. That there is no problem we can’t fix so long as we promise never to lie to each other.” Jason, the guy is quoting me word perfect with all the stupid shit I’d told him when I was trying to get him to leave Scotland! And then he starts telling me how grateful he is for bringing him to London, and how grateful he is for the financial support, and how grateful he is for everything I’ve done, and that his wanting a sexual relationship with Serena doesn’t stop him feeling grateful.

‘Well, by this time, I just want to fucking die. I mean, I’ve been living with this guy for well over a year and it dawns on me that maybe he doesn’t love me. So I ask him and he says, “Of course I love you. You’re my best friend–” And I say, “Stop right there! Don’t you dare give me the I-Love-You-As-A-Friend speech! We’ve had sex!’ And he looks confused and says, “But didn’t you want sex?” and I said, “And didn’t you want it?” And, even in the dark, I can see the look on his face as he thinks, ‘Oh shit, what do I say now?’ and that does it for me. I scream, “Get out! Get out, right now!” And he says, “Out of this room or out of the flat?” And I realise that if I say, “Out of this flat” he’s going to go round to Serena’s. So, I said, “Out of this room. I want you to sleep on the couch.” And he does, too, like a good little boy. And later I can hear him crying.’

Maddie upended the glass and poured the remains of her Bloody Mary down her throat. I said nothing.

‘Anyway,’ she went on. ‘The next morning, he apologises and makes breakfast and brings me endless cups of tea. Then he takes his little travelling Bible and swears that he won’t have sex with Serena until I’m okay with it. I was pleased at the time, because Conall takes that Bible shit seriously. I know he’ll keep his word. But now, I don’t feel so good about it. In fact, Jason, I feel like shit. I feel like absolute shit.’

I sat quietly next to the miserable young woman and gazed at the people in the saloon bar. All the student types had disappeared downstairs, and the half-dozen or so drinkers left were about my age. David Bowie was playing over the speakers, but you could just about hear the live band’s noise coming through the building. The bell rang for last orders.

‘We can go down to the basement,’ said Maddie. ‘They have a licence to stay open ’til twelve o’clock when there’s live music.’

‘I don’t think so,’ I said.

‘Oh, come on, Jason! You were going to help me make Conall jealous, remember?’

‘Madeline…’

‘Maddie!’

‘Mad-e-line,’ I said deliberately, giving her a look. ‘I think we both know that’s a bad idea. Besides, if I were Conall, given what you’ve told me, I’d think: “Oh, great, Maddie’s found another guy, so I can now go and shag Serena.” ‘

Maddie looked like she wanted to argue, then her shoulders slumped.

‘Shit, you’re right,’ she said. ‘What should I do?’

I frowned at my nearly empty pint glass. There were maybe two mouthfuls of bitter in the bottom and I swirled the glass as I considered my next move. I no longer wanted to fuck Maddie behind Conall’s back. In fact, I now believed Maddie needed a friend way more than she needed a fuck.

‘Madeline, I’m not a good person to give relationship advice,’ I said. ‘What does seem clear though is that you are in this story with Conall and you need to see it through to the end, one way or another. I don’t see any short-cuts.’

‘Well, that’s depressing!’

‘Yes, I imagine it is.’

I tipped the rest of the bitter into my mouth and put down the glass with finality.

‘You leaving me?’ said Maddie.

‘I’m going home,’ I said. ‘You’re welcome to come with me.’

‘Jason…’

‘Not for sex,’ I said. ‘For a time-out. You can sleep on my couch. We can have breakfast in the morning, and then you can get back to your life and all its drama. But a break might do you good. It’s up to you.’

I got to my feet and started pulling on my jacket, already regretting my offer. In the past, I’d often found myself playing a woman’s friend, patting her on the back as she cried over the man she was actually having sex with. Still, I liked Maddie and I didn’t want to leave her hanging.

Maddie got to her feet.

‘All right, Jason,’ she said. ‘But you have to promise me: No sex.’

‘No sex,’ I said.

We took a taxi to my place and Maddie insisted on paying the fare. We didn’t speak much during the ride and Maddie spent a good ten minutes on her text message to Conall. She liked my apartment though, which was a nice surprise. I was expecting her to find it ‘bourgeois’, but she settled herself on my couch and asked about the landscapes on my walls as though genuinely interested in them. But I wasn’t in the mood to chat. I went straight to my bedroom closet and collected bedding and pillows. Maddie looked surprised when I dumped them on the couch’s matching footrest and gestured for her to move so I could make up her bed.

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