Ay: Mart 2023

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

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

This is effectively a follow-on from “Worth the Wait” but both stories stand on their own as independent stories.

======================

I was the first to wake in the morning; my mouth felt rough from all that wine the night before. Slowly I moved from the bed and tiptoed to the bathroom, there I found the hotel freebie toothbrush and quickly brushed my teeth. Inspecting myself in the mirror, I was glad I had worn minimal make-up, I still looked vaguely presentable. It was still early, so I quietly climbed back into bed.

The clunk of the bathroom door woke me with a jolt; I still felt a little groggy but I knew this was a good moment to escape. I’d had a fantastic night with Ben but the walk to shame was going to be bad enough without an awkward goodbye.

“You’re such a bitch.” I muttered to myself, springing from the bed.

My clothes were spread across the room, I quickly darted around recovering my items. There was a feeling of dread in my stomach as I realised I could not find my knickers. Dread quickly transpired into a pang of naughtiness as I pondered travelling home with my snatch exposed to the elements.

It dawned on me that travelling commando wasn’t a great idea and I continued my search. I was halted by the sudden realisation the shower had stopped in the bathroom. Quickly fixing my bra whilst slipping on my shoes, I then pulled on my dress.

Conscious I was rapidly running out of time; I hastily made my way to the hotel room door. Spotting a spare towel at the bottom of the open wardrobe, it suddenly occurred to me that there was a gym on the fifth floor; unsure if it even had a shower I grabbed the towel and Ben’s spare key card before leaving the room.

The ride down in the left felt like it took it ages. I felt so slutty, so not me, standing there in the lift with no underwear. My dress was flimsy, the wrong wind would have quickly left me exposed. As the lift arrived at the 5th floor, I was actually a little unnerved to leave its safety as I stepped into the corridor.

The sign directing people to the gym was small and took a while to spot; I followed the direction of arrow down a winding corridor. Finally coming across the glass door to the gym disaster struck, a sign affixed to the door read ‘CLOSED – Private Training Sessions’.

“Damn.” I said audibly. All the more frustrated that I could see a small corridor at the end that I was sure must lead to a changing room and shower. Through the glass door I could see the whole of the small gym; it was deserted with no sign of activity. Keen to feel clean, I tried the keycard from Ben’s room anyway, I was in luck as the door unlocked. With time tight, I dashed across the small room and through the door I had spotted on the other side.

I entered a small room, there was a bench running around the side and a larger one in the rooms centre; beyond the bench was a small corridor. There was a level of moisture in the air which told me that there must be shower in the corridor but also warned me someone had recently showered.

I listened out for the signs of anyone else mecidiyeköy escort but heard nothing. Confident I was alone, I threw down the towel and my bag. As I peeled my dress up over my head I got the shock of my life; as I regained my view of the room, I realised I had not been alone as I thought.

A blissfully unaware perfectly tanned male body was heading towards me, has face and view obscured by the towel he was drying his hair with. As he came closer, I was able to make out his solid physique; he had the huge strong arms I craved and a rippling six pack. Gazing only briefly at his stunning pecs, I quickly took my chance to chance to check out his package; I found myself lustfully staring at good looking flaccid cock sat on top of a large pair of shaven balls.

“Thought I had this booked!” The strange voice announced, startling me.

My eyes snapped back up, now looking at the tanned chiselled face of this perfect stranger; his damp brown hair and tanned skin contrasting his deep blue eyes. His towel was now held on his shoulder by his hand, he made no attempt at modesty.

“I’m so sorry, I just wanted a shower.” I babbled apologetically; he still made no moves to cover himself. “I’ll give you some privacy.”

“No need. You’ve seen everything now.” He responded with a cheeky grin; “plus I’ve seen most of you now so no need to be shy.”

It then suddenly dawned on me that I was stood there only wearing a bra, my matching knickers still somewhere 15 floors above. I knew she must be blushing which would be especially noticeable on my fair skin.

“Anyway, I’m Tim. Tim the trainer.” Tim chuckled, clearly his nickname amused him.

Tim’s eyes darted around my body; I’m sure I didn’t quite match up to the sort of gym bunny girls he has probably used to but that didn’t stop him roaming eye. I know men are enthralled by my fiery ginger hair, Tim’s eyes followed the flow of freckles from my face down my ample D cup breasts which were the only part of me enjoying some modesty. After clearly sizing up my breasts, his eyes worked their way lower taking in my soft maintained mound of ginger pubes and tidy pussy.

“Not here for a workout then?” He asked bringing his eyes back to my face.

Tim’s eyes quickly flicked back to admiring my body, there was a definite movement of blood to his cock as he did. Clearly I was turning him on and I felt a little giddy myself. Despite a great fucking last night, this was exactly the sort of man I craved and with the right signals I could have right now.

“It’s rude to stare.” I snapped, testing his reaction but he barely averted his eyes as I unclipped by bra and tossed it aside.

As I walked toward Tim to reach the shower, his eyes seemed to follow each nipple in time as they bounced with my stride. Tim still blocked the doorway and as I reached him, I placed my hand firmly on his left hip, my thumb sitting nicely in his Adonis belt. I applied enough pressure to make it clear he was in the way and he obliged, pivoting back against the merter escort wall.

Loosening my grip on Tim’s left, I placed my other hand on his left, just a little lower and further this time so I could feel the firmness of his buttocks. Pushing myself past, I cheekily rubbed my hardening nipples against his firm chest. Being a good foot shorter than him, I could feel his hardening cock rubbing my chest as I pushed past.

Just as I pushed past Tim, he grabbed my right arm as I swung it back towards me. Holding me in place, Tim swung his body to be behind me before pulling back towards him. Tim gripped my torso before rapidly raising his hands to fondle me breasts and tweak my very erect nipples. Tim’s hands enveloped my breasts, massaging them in a strong but sensual fashion; in the mirror dead ahead I could see him admiring his work.

I bit my lip, breathing deeply as Tim freed a hand to work further down my body. His arms were unable to make up the height difference and he stooped behind as his hands reached my soft tuft of pubes. His hands reached further, pushing past my labia to explore my swollen clit.

I was so lost in the moment as Tim’s fingers circled my clit and his hard cock throbbed, poking at my back. Muffled animalistic moaning left my lips uncontrollably as Tim continued his work. I was desperate to see and feel his cock, what I could feel up against me felt far from disappointing.

After what can only have been a matter of minutes, I could already feel an orgasm building. My moaning was getting loader and was beginning to writhe in Tim’s arms, he must have known what was coming.

“Go on cum! You know you want to!” Tim was insistent and I was compliant as my body shuddered and I growled loudly.

I felt weak at the knees, but that didn’t matter as Tim had already begun lifting me up off the floor. Grasping me beneath my knees and under my arms, Tim carefully turned in the corridor and carried me back into the changing area when he lay me on the central bench.

Although my dress and towel offered some cushioning, it wasn’t amazingly comfortable; I was a little confused as to why my head was hanging off the edge. I looked around as Tim was moving himself towards where my head hung, as I looked up my view was filled with an erect cock and balls.

As Tim lowered himself onto his knees my view got better and better; his balls were perfectly shaped and huge with it. As his cock came into clear view I like what I saw, it looked around 6 or 7 inches long, it was nowhere near as thick as last nights but it had beautiful thick veins which led to a bulbous purple head which sat clear of his retracted foreskin.

“You’ll be able to take more of it in this way.” Tim informed me, guiding his angry cock head towards my lips.

Now I knew why I was positioned like this, he wanted to be deepthroated; my head was full of fear and trepidation, I’d never tried this before. I quickly moistened my lips and had barely put my tongue back in when Tim began feeding me his cock. He wasn’t mutlukent escort shy about getting it all in, shuffling forward for his best angle of attack.

I gagged a little when he was about three quarters in, clearly this turned on Tim even more as he more eagerly pushed the rest of his cock past my lips. I guess my life was made easier through Tim’s efforts as he bucked back and forth, fucking my mouth. Occasionally he’d thrust in hard and make me gag again, it was great to add my own sex noise over his grunts.

I raised one my hands up above my head so I could fondle his huge balls and Tim groaned in appreciation as fondled them. My other hand worked its way down my own body, vigorously stroking my own clit despite the distraction of regularly gagging as Tim fucked my throat.

After what felt like an eternity, Tim had clearly tired of feeding my face with his cock. As he withdrew his slobbery cock, I prayed that I would finally get to feel it in me. I quickly sat up and spun round on the bench ready to be positioned by Tim.

“We don’t have long! The next booking is due soon.” Tim warned me as he pushed me backwards and quickly moved my towel to cushion my head. I’d not even contemplated the risk of us fucking here in an unlocked changing room.

Tim was back down on his knees, rubbing his cock against my pussy lips. I exhaled loudly as he finished his teasing and entered me. He started slowly, his trusts acclimatising him to my extreme wetness. The feeling of his cock hard inside me was intense, especially as I watched the contusion of his muscles with every thrust.

Suddenly my legs were hoisted into the air as Tim drove himself deeper into my aching pussy. Little else in the room could possibly have been heard over my load moans; I was getting it hard and loving it. Here was this muscle stud ticking all my boxes and my inner slut could not care less when the next appointment may appear.

An orgasm was definitely building, I could feel my body tingling in expectation. In a brief display of decisiveness, I broke my legs free, wrapping them around Tim to drive him deeper into me. Moments later my moans had turned to screams as an orgasm took control of my body. Tim was unable to move as my legs and spasming pussy held him in place.

As I released my grip, Tim withdrew; I couldn’t feel that he had come and wondered what his latest plan was for me. Tim stood towering over me stroking his cock which looked shiny and slick from my juices.

As Tim continued to stoke his cock, his breathing got deeper; as he threw his head back and looked at the ceiling, I knew he was about to cum on me. He grunted loudly as the first rope of spunk shot from his cock. The first spurt of cum was followed in rapid succession by many more, I couldn’t even recall how much, it was more like a cum shower. When Tim had finished there was warm cum rolling across my chin, tits and belly.

“I think you definitely need that shower now!” Tim proclaimed as he stood proudly eying his handy work.

“You’re a bastard!” I retorted, the sex was over now, and I could show my wickeder streak.

I sat up, pulling the towel up from under my head; cum trickled south along my body. Tim moved off out of my path and rushed towards the shower, trying not to drip as I moved. I quickly found the shower and shutting the door behind me I eagerly pressed the start button. My mistake was immediately clear, I was hit with a blast of icy cold water.

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

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

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

Chase Bradbury tread softly, yet swiftly, through the shadowed halls of the mansion, his eyes wide and focused on his surroundings. In the midnight hours, the house was dim and eerily silent, but not even the black of night could dull the exquisiteness of the building. The floors were a cream tile, polished so well that it still gave off a shine despite the darkness; large oval windows lined the walls, framed with deep velvet drapes; and a sizeable glass chandelier hung flamboyantly from the ceiling. It was a display of wealth, rather than a home.

He moved with determination to the upper level of the house, in the direction of the master bedrooms where his target slept, blissfully unaware of what was headed his way. Alex Fontaine had stolen 1.5 million dollars from him and the bastard was going to return every single cent and then pray to god he lived to see another day. Chase had never even met the man, but he’d heard stories from his colleagues of a nameless, faceless man who somehow managed to sneak into the most secure safes and clean out their contents, before disappearing into thin air. Antique paintings, rare jewels, historic documents; Chase considered himself lucky to have only lost the contents of one of his bank accounts, rather than one of his valuable possessions. However, that didn’t mean the man would be punished any less for his thieving. Chase prided himself on being a man people feared and respected. Unlike his colleagues, he hadn’t been born into riches. He’d spent decades working his way up from the bottom, doing the dirty work for other men, until he could set his own path. Those who were acquainted with him knew he was not a man to be crossed.

The man who had stolen from him was either stupid, or he had a death wish. After a few months of digging, Chase had managed to find a trail that pointed directly to an Alex Fontaine, residing at xxxx Birkham Street. And so here he was, ready to deliver justice to the man himself.

He signalled from the top of the stairs an all clear to the men who accompanied him; his two right hand men whom he trusted with his life. He wasn’t so dense as to think a man like Fontaine wouldn’t have security measures in place. Chase was a man who did his own dirty work, regardless of how much wealth he came to obtain. That being said, he knew when he needed back up.

He waited silently as his oldest friend, Gabe, moved stealthily up the stairs and then into a shadowed corner of the hall. Gabe glanced around quickly, before signalling to Spencer to proceed.

As Spencer began to follow, movement at the other end of the hallway caught Chase’s eye.

At first, he thought he’d imagined the woman; she was a vision of elegance, a petite frame with dainty curves wrapped delicately in a silky white night gown. Her slightly dishevelled brown hair framed an angelic face and fell in long, lush waves down her back. She shuffled tiredly, rubbing at her eyes, and Chase cursed as he realised she was headed straight into Spencer’s path, the idiot not even remotely aware of her presence. Gabe, too, had noticed her and he threw Chase a panicked look before motioning desperately toward Spencer, but it was too late.

The woman startled as she came across the large, burly figure on the stairway. She looked momentarily confused by his presence, before fear crossed her features and she opened her mouth to scream.

Chase moved quickly as the scene unfolded. He darted behind her and clamped a firm hand over her mouth before any sound could escape her. His other arm snaked around her tiny waist, holding her tightly in place as she fought for escape. The warmth of her body radiated through the soft silk of her gown as she squirmed in his grasp and he groaned internally as she unknowingly kneaded the round of her ass against his groin. He tightened his grip around her, digging his large forearm forcefully into her ribs. It was enough pressure to hurt her without causing significant pain, and she grunted into his palm before finally stilling.

Spencer approached, and pulled a gun from behind his back, not aiming it, but just making its presence known. Chase knew it had the desired effect, as the woman began to tremble beneath his arms. He placed his mouth to her ear and spoke low.

“Make a sound, and he will kill you. Do you understand?”

The woman bobbed her head, the rest of her body still shaking fearfully. Guilt built quickly in the pit of his stomach and he almost wanted to tell her that they wouldn’t really shoot an innocent woman, but he couldn’t afford to have her wake the rest of the household. He wasn’t even sure exactly how many people resided there. He’d managed to uncover a name and an address, but not much more on the ghost of a man that was Alex Fontaine. The woman he held in his arms could be Fontaine’s wife, lover, daughter, or something else entirely.

He slowly removed his hand from her mouth, keeping his arm in its position around her waist. From the way she was trembling, his otele gelen escort arm may well have been the only thing keeping her upright in that moment, and although he wouldn’t admit it, he was rather enjoying the feel of her body tightly pressed against his.

“I’m looking for Alex Fontaine,” he murmured softly into her ear. “Tell me which room he’s in.”

Spencer kept his gun in her eye-line, but held it low, so as not to over-frighten the girl.

“H-He’s…” she struggled to get her sentence out and Chase loosened his grip ever so slightly.

“It’s okay,” he gently encouraged, “we’re not going to hurt you if you tell us what we want to know.”

She nodded and found her voice again. “My brother is in Milan on vacation. I’m not sure when he’ll be back. P-please let me go…”

Milan? Fuck. He nodded to Gabe who had remained concealed in the shadows, giving him the cue to check the rooms and confirm the girl’s words. He knew, without even looking, there would be an I-told-you-so expression on his friend’s face. Gabe had insisted they wait a few days to assess the man’s daily routines before making their move, but they’d spent so long tracking him down that Chase didn’t want to risk him slipping away when they were so close to catching him.

He breathed in the scent of the woman in his arms while he waited. Every motion her head made sent a sweet and floral fragrance his way, and he longed to roam his hands over the subtle curves of her warm body. She shifted slightly within his grasp, trying to see what they were waiting on, but Chase caught her chin between his fingertips before she could catch sight of Gabe. Best for her to identify as few of them as possible.

“Be still, girl,” he warned. “What’s your name?”

“Olivia,” she responded, with slight agitation in her voice. She pulled her chin from his grasp, but obeyed him and did not spare a glance behind her. He smiled, pleased that she’d built up some courage despite her disposition. “What do you want from my brother?”

Chase considered leaving her question unanswered, but there was no real harm in her knowing the truth. “He stole something from me and I’m here to take it back.”

He felt her increase of breath as her chest rose and fell beneath his forearm. “Are you going to hurt him?” Her voice was little more than a whisper.

The emotion in her soft words made him wish there was a way he could leave her brother unharmed. But the man had stolen from him, and he needed to set an example for anyone else who might do the same. Thankfully, Gabe returned in time to save him answering her question.

“Empty.” He confirmed, to Chase’s dismay. “What now?”

Spencer glanced down the stairs. “I say we get the fuck out of here before the security realise we’re here.”

Chase mulled it over. He could search the house for any valuable items or links to where Fontaine had stored the money, but to do so without drawing the attention of the security downstairs would be risky, and the chances he would find anything worthwhile were slim. Spencer was right, they needed to get the fuck out of there. Besides, he realised he already had something worthwhile fidgeting in his arms.

“Okay. Same way we came in,” he ordered, “Move.” He felt Olivia’s body relax, relief overcoming her. However, when he maintained his hold on her as he approached the stairs, she began to struggle.

“What are you-?” He clamped his hand back over her mouth to stop her mid-sentence.

Spencer threw him a questioning look.

“I’ll need leverage if we want to catch Fontaine.”

Olivia, quickly realising the meaning behind his words, began to squirm frantically and she screamed desperately into his palm. The sound was mostly muffled, but he knew once they reached the bottom of the stairs the sound would bounce off every wall on the floor level, alerting the security.

“For fuck’s sake,” he hissed, beckoning to Spencer for support as the girl’s elbows and knees flailed at him wildly.

Spencer lifted his gun and brought the handle of it down firmly against the back of the girl’s head with a soft thud. She went limp in Chase’s arms and he frowned angrily up at Spencer, “What the fuck was that?”

Spencer shrugged, “How else was I supposed to shut her up?”

Chase touched his hand to the girl’s head where the gun had made contact and cursed as he felt a small amount of blood weeping from her scalp. “Any option that didn’t involve causing the poor girl brain damage would have been fucking fine!” He growled.

Spencer snorted, “An ice pack and some aspirin, and she’ll be grand. Don’t forget, that poor girl is the sister of the man who stole your damn money. Honestly, Chase, I never thought you’d be the type to soften over a pretty face and a nice set of legs.”

It was lucky Chase’s hands were holding Olivia up, or he likely would have punched his friend square in the nose. Anger bubbled hot pendik escort in his chest. “One more word, Spence, and I swear to God you’ll need more than an ice pack and aspirin after I’m done with you.”

Gabe rolled his eyes at the two of them. “Will you two quit your damn bickering?” he said gruffly, “The girl will be fine, Chase. Let’s get the hell out of here.” Chase lifted Olivia easily over his shoulder and quickly followed his friends out the side door they had broken in through and to the safety of their car.

***

Chase poured himself a large glass of whiskey and glanced down at the woman atop his bed. She lay like a porcelain doll, her delicate features peaceful in the forced sleep his friend had given her. He’d cleaned the injury on her head, and was thankful to find that it hadn’t been a deep wound. Of course, that hadn’t stopped him from blasting Spencer the entire ride home for his carelessness. He sighed heavily. Stealing Olivia hadn’t been his intention, but he’d panicked when Fontaine wasn’t in the house. At least this way he had a chance to bargain with the man; his sister in return for the money he’d stolen.

He hadn’t had the chance to examine her properly during their exchange in her home, but now he had the luxury of taking in the full sight of her, and she was simply breathtaking. She looked to be in her early-twenties; a tiny waif of a woman, with subtle curves that nicely complemented her lithe figure. Her flawless skin and freshly manicured nails told him she lived a privileged life, though the house he had stolen her from had been evidence enough of that. He took a seat at the edge of the bed, his weight on the mattress causing her to stir.

When her eyelids fluttered open, a pair of dazzling green eyes met his, and they quickly registered pain and then fear. She sat upright and shuffled backward, putting as much distance between the two of them as possible.

“Where am I?” She demanded, her eyes darting frantically around the room. It was a large master bedroom, but really more of a living room than a bedroom, with a small bar and seating area in the adjoining room. It was rarely occupied by anyone other than himself, and the occasional women he invited in for a bit of enjoyment.

“You’re in my bedroom,” Chase responded, watching her carefully from the end of the bed. He could tell she was familiarising herself with her surroundings and likely determining the location of her nearest exit.

“And where exactly is that?” She asked.

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you that.” Even though the door to his master suite was locked with one of the most complex security systems money could buy, he determined it wouldn’t be wise to share her exact whereabouts when he planned on ransoming her off to her brother.

She nodded calmly, taking the time to process his words. Then, without warning, she threw herself from the bed and bolted towards the door. Expecting her retreat, Chase caught her by the waist and carried her back towards the bed.

“No!” She screamed, her bare feet kicking into his stomach with an impressive amount of strength for such a small woman. He tilted his hips away from her swinging leg, only just avoiding a blow to his groin, then tossed her firmly onto the mattress.

“Stop!” He growled angrily. “I’m not going to hurt you!”

She stilled, leaning back against the headboard, and breathed heavily. “You mean, you’re not going to…” she pulled self-consciously at her night gown, covering up her exposed legs.

He frowned. Of course, the woman though he’d brought her here to fuck her, why else would he have placed her in his bedroom? He’d admit, the moment he’d laid her unconscious body onto his mattress, his mind had filled with all kinds of sinful images of her spread out beneath him, her perfect face contorted with pleasure as he took her. But the implication that he would force her dissipated those thoughts completely.

He frowned, “No, Olivia. I don’t take women to bed against their will.”

She relaxed slightly, though she didn’t look fully convinced.

“The only reason you’re in my bedroom is because I thought you might have had a concussion and I wanted you to rest comfortably.”

Her hand felt out the bump on the back of her head and she winced at the contact.

“May I?” He collected a bowl from the bedside table and pulled a small bag of ice from it.

She eyed him with suspicion before nodding. He moved slowly to sit beside her, and wrapped the ice in a dry wash cloth before placing it gently to her head. She frowned and examined the features of his face, while he studied her in return. Those green eyes reflected intelligence, something he hadn’t expected. He’d had to endure countless hours in the company of upper class women; those who had inherited a fortune, those who had married into a fortune, and in rare cases, those who had created their own fortune. The vast majority of them were vain and pompous rus escort creatures, with little intelligible conversation to offer. He hadn’t yet had the chance to engage in full conversation with Olivia, and yet he was already eager to hear what her mind had to offer. He watched as her eyes roamed the contours of his face, before she blushed slightly and her eyes fell to her lap. It wasn’t the first time he’d had that effect on a woman. He’d found out early on, as a straggly adolescent boy, that his face was appealing, and as he’d aged and built on his physique, his confidence with women, and his professional life had grown considerably.

He used his index finger to lift her chin, bringing her focus back to him. “I need you to tell me where your brother is staying in Milan,” he said gently.

She swallowed and took the ice from his hand, her soft fingertips brushing against his in the exchange. “You’re going to use me to get back what he stole from you,” she murmured.

He lowered his hand and nodded. “The sooner you cooperate with me, the sooner I’ll be able to take you home.”

She considered his words for a moment, before lifting her chin, the motion accentuating the loveliness of her jawline. “I’ll cooperate,” she said firmly, “as soon as I have your word that Alex will not be harmed.”

He smiled, admiring the girl’s assertion. Most in her place would be a blubbering mess, but she was proving to be stronger than he’d expected. It was intriguing. So much so that he almost wanted to give her what she wanted. Almost.

“I’ve spent months of my time tracking your brother down in order to retrieve the money he took from me, and during that time I’ve also lost a significant amount of interest that would have been accumulated in that bank account. If I can’t make an example of the man, what can you offer me instead?”

Surprise registered on her features, and he smiled internally, loving that he’d caught her unawares. She had such an expressive, readable face, and he watched with enjoyment as she mulled his question over in her mind.

“How much did he take? I’ll offer you double to leave him unharmed.”

He smirked, “I don’t want your money, sweetheart.”

Her brow creased. “What about other valuables? We have a number of antique items that I’m sure would interest you.”

“Antique items?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Yes. I know your kind; you enjoy having such rarities in your possession. It makes you feel powerful.”

It was true, he did own a number of rare valuables that he highly regarded, some of which he had spent years of time and effort to obtain, but he hated that she’d likened him to others. He was his own man, and didn’t take well to being categorised.

His eyes roamed over the length of her body. “Right now, there’s only one rarity I want to possess,” he said darkly.

He watched as a deep blush rose from her chest, to her neck, and right up to her ears. She bit her bottom lip nervously, an innocent gesture on her behalf, but one that he found completely erotic. He wanted nothing more than to taste those full lips for himself.

“Would it save my brother if I offered you that?” She asked bashfully, and the question from her sweet lips made the blood rush straight to his groin. He didn’t believe her for a second.

“I told you already, Olivia, I don’t bed women against their will.”

She looked up at him then, her gorgeous green eyes wide and innocent. “If I offer it to you, then it will not be against my will.”

He had to hold in the groan that he ached to release at her offer. She was playing with him, she had to be. He warred with himself internally; it would be wrong of him to take her while she was in this vulnerable position. But then, perhaps he affected her just as much as she affected him. He stared at her for a moment, taking in her flushed skin, wide eyes, and slightly open mouth. There was only one way to tell.

He closed the distance between them, and pressed his lips slowly to hers. His nose gently brushed against her cheek, inhaling her sweet, intoxicating scent. She let out a tiny gasp at his bold move, but then, to his surprise, she closed her eyes and began kissing him back. He smiled into her mouth as her lips began to mimic the movement of his, and she leaned into him, seeking out more. He wasn’t going to disappoint. His hand came around the back of her neck, urging her closer, as he kissed her more urgently. She tasted even better than she looked. Her hands found his chest, and desperately gripped the material of his shirt. He growled low, and slipped his tongue between her lips, tasting, taking, claiming her mouth fully. She was intoxicating.

When her palms flattened against his chest and pushed him firmly away from her, he groaned desperately. “You’re killing me, woman.”

He took in her flushed, breathless state and felt his arousal straining at the zip of his pants.

“Do we have a deal?” She asked dazedly.

He certainly wasn’t about to back out. Now that he’d tasted her lips, he was eager to taste the rest of her body; every single inch of her. He nodded. “You have my word. Provided your brother returns the money with adequate interest, and you spend the next 24 hours with me, he won’t be harmed.”

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

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

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

The sound of David Guetta’s new electro hit was blaring in my headphones as I run faster. Sweat dripping down my cleavage and lower back, the fabric of my tank top and running pants stick to my body as I reach 12kms on today’s run. As I sit on a bench and drink some water, I lean back and shut my eyes, all I can think of is how fast my life moved over the last two months.

As I walk back towards home, my phone beeps and I get a WhatsApp – “Will be there at around 8 this Saturday. – Damian”

My lips broke out into a smile while I read the message and thought back at all that has happened over the past two months which have gone by like a whirlwind. When I went to Singapore two months ago for a work trip, I had no idea how much a small swim can change the shape of things to come and how my moral boundaries will be tested.

*********

It was April 2016 and I had to goto Singapore for some meetings with clients. I was staying at the Marina Bay Sands and after three days of meetings, I decide to use their sensational infinity pool for a swim. A couple of laps later I noticed on one of the loungers, a well-built, chocolate brown man was eyeing me. Now I am used to men eyeing me in swimming pools, but what won my attention was that this man looked suave, experienced and more importantly, his swimming trunks were struggling to hide his cock.

As I get out of the pool and dry off, I can see he is still eyeing me. Wondering how this game would play out, I wear my robe and start walking towards the lifts, with a smile on his face he follows me. I bite my lips wondering whether to say hello as we wait for the lift but I decide against it. As we walk into the lift, we stand side by side momentarily before the lift shuts with just the two of us in it.

His arm goes around my waist as he pulls me towards him to kiss me passionately. By the time the lift reaches my floor, he keeps me locked in the kiss before he shuts the lift again to let it go up to his floor.

As we reach his floor I follow him into his room. “Make yourself comfortable, I’ll be with you in a moment,” he said. His voice was so bass heavy, it demand obedience. I was smiling, knowing that he would have to earn my obedience. I dropped my robe and walked towards the floor to ceiling windows. Still dressed in my red thongs, I see my reflection on the window before I walk closer to look at the amazing view.

“Can you get me a gin and tonic with some ice please?,” I ask as I presume he is making drinks for us. But as soon as I finish asking that I feel the warmth of his body behind me as he pushes me against the window while he rubs an ice cube over my pussy lips.

I lean back and close my eyes as I let out a long moan, taken aback by the suddenness of the cold ice cube touching my most sensitive areas. The contrast of temperatures was driving my skin wild as I could feel the warmth of his body on my back and his warm breathe on my neck as he held my up against the window. My breasts are pressed against the window, as he sucks on the back of neck. The cold ice cube has been replaced by his cold fingers. His other hand undid my bikini top and lets it drop.

My moans grew louder as I felt his cock throb between my ass crack. I kept moaning as my pussy kept leaking juices on his finger, I was struggling to hold back an orgasm. As I bit my lips, I presume he noticed how much I wanted him, because all of a sudden he pressed down on my back, making my body arch a little as he positioned his cock at the entrance of my pussy. Before even asking my name or me asking his name, his cock entered my pussy lips. Despite the natural lubrication provided by my juices, my pussy lips were gripping onto his cock tightly almost milking it.

His strokes were slow but firm at first. But then his pace started growing. My body and senses were on fire. A complete stranger tesettürlü escort was fucking me like I am a bitch while I can see far into Singapore from his room.

I gripped onto the sofa, while my body started to shiver and convulse to an orgasm. This must have been the quickest orgasm I’ve had. But the force of it was enough to bring me to my knees as his cock, which was still hard pulled out of me.

On my knees, I turned around and looked up at him. There was a pleasure filled smile on his face which he tried to block from my sight using his thick cock. He ran the tip of his cock along the length of my face. From my forehead till my lips, his cock left a trail of our juices on my face before I locked my lips around the tip of his cock.

My tongue licking the tip clean of our leaking juices while the tip of his cock rests in the warmth of my mouth. Without looking up at him, my tongue begins to part the opening of his cock and lick up all his juices. My lips now slide lower onto his cock, taking more of it within my mouth as my tongue wraps around it to accommodate it.

It reaches the base of his cock, which is almost making me gag as I look up at him. Still smiling down on me. I suck hard, my mouth now milking his cock. as I massage his balls gently.

My hands reach upto his chest and nipples as I start to play with them while sucking on his cock. Knowing I am trying to take control, he grabs my head and starts to pull his cock out slowly. As soon as it reaches till the tip of his cock, he’d thrust again. He began to fuck my mouth. He continued to use my body.

After a few strokes, he pulled out and walked to the bed to lay down. I was surprised. Did I do something wrong? Well if I have, what I do next will fix it.

I went to his bed and climbed on top of him. His cock was still rock hard so I had to be careful as I placed my pussy just above his cock but not touching it. With my knees on either side of him and my pussy just above his cock I started to grind on him. I smiled and he smiled back at me as my pussy kept grazing the tip of my cock. I bent down to start sucking his nipples while my pussy leaked on his cock. As I moved to his other nipple which I started to flick with my tongue, I felt the pressure of his hands on my lower back pushing me down on his cock.

I rose up and started to ride him. My hand ran through my hair, giving him an ample view of my breasts. He got up to kiss my breasts as he kept fucking me in his lap. My moans grew louder as I held on to his head while he sucked on my breasts.

The warmth of our bodies making us sweat which drips down my lower back. Our bodies keep slapping against each other while he grabs my ass and gets on top of me. Pressed down by his weight I moan louder as his cock reaches deeper inside me.

I grab onto his ass cheeks as I feel his cock throbbing inside me. To his surprise, I pull him into me as I hit an orgasm at the same time as his cum starts to flow inside me.

He pulls out and kisses me before saying, “You should get some rest. I have some work to do.”

I just nodded as I covered myself in the sheets and dozed off. The next morning, I woke up at around 10. He had already left. I got up and saw a sticky note at the window saying, “Have gone for a meeting and will be checking out later this evening. I really enjoyed last night.”

As I had my flight late at night, I left a note giving my room number and telling him I would be heading back to Mumbai in the midnight flight. I left him my name and number and I went back to my room to sleep for some more time. By the time I woke up it was 5PM in the evening. I went near the door and there was an envelope. It was first class tickets in my name back to Mumbai but it was for the next day. A small note said, türbanlı escort “Meet me for dinner tonight at the restaurant. Damian.”

I kept wondering whether or not to accept Damian’s offer. Was this treading on the turf of being an escort? I decided to stop thinking about and decided to stay back. Dressed in the only long gown I brought for this trip, I went down to the restaurant. I told the staff if Damian comes looking for me, guide him to my table. But for about half an hour I kept sipping on my champagne.

When he finally came, we talked for a long time. I told him everything about me and found out that he was 43 ran a hedge fund and was British Moroccan. We talked all night and had a few more drinks, before he suggested that I check out of my room and stay with him.

I agreed. There was no way I was not going to agree. We told the reception to transfer my bags to his room next morning and then went up.

As we got into his room, he immediately shut the door and unhooked my dress. I nonchalantly let it fall and kept walking ahead of him. He came ahead and caressed my body while his hand reached down to my pussy. While teasing it, he whispered into my ears, “Tonight, that is not going to be fucked.”

I giggled and said, “Oh really?”

As we reached the bed, he pushed my face down on it before his fingers traced up to my butt hole. My juices were going to be his lubrication as he spread my ass cheeks apart, or so I thought. He got down to his knees as I felt the warmth of his breath on my butt hole. Just as his fingers traced a circle with my juices around my butt hole, Damian’s tongue now traced that same line.

His tongue traced its way to my pussy and all the way back as I moaned softly. He started rimming me, forcing me to squirm a little but his firm hands kept me in place. My moans were now becoming longer.

I grabbed onto the sheets as his tongue relentlessly teased my ass. The cold air of the air conditioning which was hitting the now wet butt hole was teasing me even more.

Suddenly, he stopped. I could hear him unzip and drop his pants. The warmth of his breath was now replaced by the warmth of his thick cock. He spread my ass as much as possible as his cock head started to part my butt hole. I bit my lips and let out a muffled scream as I struggled to accommodate him. He thrust harder, stretching me to my limits. My back arched I screamed louder prompting him to thrust again. He stayed still for a while before pulling out all the way till my ass crack and forcefully thrusting again.

He bent down, grabbed my hair and whispered into my ears, “Don’t worry my love, you’ll know how to accommodate me.” I turned my head slightly so that we could kiss. His thrusts became harder and faster. The pain had now turned to pleasure as he kept fucking my ass.

All of a sudden, he grabbed my pussy and lifted me, as he too got on to the bed as laid down. His cock still in my ass, I began to ride him in the reverse cowgirl position. His hands kept caressing my ass cheeks and even smacking them a few times as I bounced on his cock.

He got up and grabbed my breasts and caressed them while his cock stayed in my ass. I leaned back and rested my head on his shoulders while he massaged my breasts. He kept kissing the back of neck and biting softly while one of his hands reached down to my pussy and started exploring it with his fingers.

I moaned loudly as my head rested on his shoulders but he was playing with my body like I was a musical instrument. His fingers reaching deep inside my while his cock throbbed inside my ass. I was moaning incessantly like a whore.

As I began to cum in his arms, he left his mark on my neck with his bite and decided to pull his cock out.

*********

The next day as I got tüyap escort onto the flight, I was surprised to see him in the seat next to me. I smiled at Damian as I took my seat and pressed the button to lower the partition between us. “Good you wore a skirt,” he whispered into my ears.

We barely chatted till dinner service was over on the flight. With the lights turned off and the doors shut for our seats, he whispered, “Stay quiet.” Before I knew it he managed to sit in front of me on his knees. I bit my lips as his head went under my skirt and his fingers parted my panties. I could feel his warm breathe on my pussy as I struggled to hold back a moan. His tongue now parted my pussy lips as he began to eat me 30,000ft high in the sky. I held onto his hair tightly as lapped up my leaking juices. Sucking me relentlessly till I hit an orgasm. He muffled my moans with his fingers soaked in my own juices.

Nonchalantly, he got up and back into his seat. We didn’t speak till the flight was about to land. As I started to say goodbye to him, Damian said, “I want you to goto Seychelles with me. I’ll send you the tickets and pick you up from Mumbai.”

Those were his last words to me before I deboarded the flight. Was I his girlfriend or was I his whore? I kept thinking for next few weeks. We didn’t speak as he remained busy with his work. I did have a few random flings in Mumbai, but for some reason I could not get Damian out of my mind.

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

Out of the blue, I recieved tickets to Seychelles in my inbox. I replied asking him does this mean I am his girlfriend? But he did not reply. The tickets were for the coming weekend and it was a Friday when I received his message that he is going to be in town. As I spent the day in office, I did not reply to him, wondering what is his plan.

I left office early that day and outside my home, I see a rental car with a driver. He asked me whether I am a resident of the my flat and handed me a card. It said “Get in the car. It wil ltake you to the airport.”

Against my most defensive instincts, I got dressed in a denim skirt and a tee shirt and left in the car after half an hour. Once there, the driver went to the arrivals with a board with Damian’s name on it.

I told him I would wait in the car. After nearly six months, I was going to meet Damian again and this time I hoped to get answers.

After short wait, he arrived. He put his bags in trunk and got into the seat. Before I could say anything beyond hey, Damian’s hands reached up my thighs and into my skirt. As the driver drove out of the airport, Damian’s finger parted my moist panties and began to trace the length of my pussy. His touch felt so familiar that I gave in to my primal instincts to mate.

I bit my lips and enjoyed the sensation as we sped off towards his hotel. As I got wetter, another one of his fingers entered me. I could smell my juices and I was pretty sure the driver could to. But he remained professional and never tried to peek. Damian asked him to stop and give us a moment. We were barely five minutes from what seemed to be his hotel.

“You are not my girlfriend. I am married and I love my wife a lot. But we both know we need different partners for sex. So I guess you can say you are my concubine. Now I know you don’t mind being my concubine or else you would not have come tonight. So why don’t you prove I am right and suck me off right now so that we can go happily to Seychelles tomorrow,” said Damian in a voice so cold and calculated, it was a strange turn-on.

I looked at him blankly for a moment before I shrugged and blew him off on Marine Drive, Mumbai with his driver right outside.

I was his concubine. I knew it ever since I accepted that re-booking of my flight from Singapore to Mumbai. I went back that night accepting the will of my body’s need for pleasure rather than a societal need for a committed partner. We did goto Seychelles which ultimately cost me my job as I missed a few very important meetings. I now work for a company he has invested in. The only commitment me and Damian have is that he can fuck me whenever he pleases. We haven’t met since Seychelles. But I definitely look forward to our next meeting.

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“Dude, can you sleep in Sylvia’s room?”

At first Wes wasn’t sure he had heard Roger correctly. What was he asking for? Roger responded to the confused look on Wes’s face.

“Come on, man, we talked about this last week. Sylvia is sharing her hotel room with Faith, so that means you need to sleep on Sylvia’s floor so Faith and I can share a room.”

Wes remembered some vague conversation with Roger about the upcoming All-State Artistic Tournament, about how Roger was going to put it to Faith a thousand times when they all got to Chicago. He recalled wondering in an off-hand way how Roger expected to have all this sex if he was sharing a room with Wes. The plan seemed clear now, but Wes certainly hadn’t anticipated ending up in Sylvia’s room. Holy shit, Sylvia Anderson. Holy, holy shit.

“Roger, what are you asking me to do?” Wes asked shakily.

Big dumb Roger stared at Wes as though the suggestion were the most obvious thing in the world. “Dude, you’re going to sleep in Sylvia’s room this week while Faith stays with me.”

So that was his idea. Holy shit. All Wes could focus on was Sylvia in her lingerie (Wes’s imagination could not be contained in moments like these), which made it hard for him to protest to the best of his abilities. But he had to try.

“Roger, Jesus, we’re gonna get busted.”

“Don’t be such a pussy. Don’t you want to get some action with Sylvia?”

“Riiiiiight, Sylvia Anderson and I are going to get it on. Drop your crack pipe and think for a minute. All it takes is one time for Mrs. Schruder to catch us in the wrong room.”

Roger put his arm around Wes. “Man, you have got to loosen up. Haven’t you ever risked getting caught so you could have sex with a cute girl?”

The answer was no, but did that mean he wouldn’t if given the chance? He said, “But I’m not having sex. You are.”

“Right, and I know what I’m talking about. Listen, dude, it all comes down to whether or not you’re going to keep me and Faith Simmons from having a beautiful sexual experience for the next four nights. You’re not going to do that, are you, Wes?”

More protestations came to mind, but Wes wasn’t one to whine. Besides, he liked the idea of Roger and Faith having some fun. If he wasn’t having fun, someone should. Then another thought came to mind.

“Has anyone talked to Sylvia about this?”

“Faith is right now. Sylvia’s a pushover.”

This was true. She may be the most beautiful girl in the entire college, but Sylvia was also quite soft-spoken, especially around her hard-living not-quite-bosom buddy Faith. Sylvia had made it into Faith’s gaggle of girlfriends because she was model-quality gorgeous and because they all sang in the Music department, but she was more of a reluctant tag-along. Wes liked to imagine her reading a nice book in her dorm room on weekend nights, much like he did, but he really had no idea. She was a magnificent, untouchable mystery.

As the bus pulled up in front of the hotel, Wes was staring out the window pondering how very wrong everything could go. The students exploded out of their seats in a cacophony at the exact moment the bus stopped, reaching for their bags, crushing each other in the aisle, hurling insults. Roger shouted, “Thanks buddy! I owe you one!” as he barreled toward the front.

Before Wes could stand, Sylvia Anderson sat in Roger’s vacated seat. She smelled fucking fantastic, like sweat and strawberries and the clean scent of perfumed soap. Her vinyl shorts showed an amazing amount of thigh, and her tight navy blue t-shirt pulled tight as she sat at an angle in the bus seat. Her dark hair fell around her shoulders in a multitude of cute natural curls with a healthy bounce. Wesley remembered one day the previous year when he spent an entire class period wanting to reach out and run his fingers through her hair. Now she sat beside him. Before he could recover from boyish nervousness, she spoke.

“Do you have any idea what Faith and Roger are trying to get us into?” She said it very softly so no one could hear, although the bus was loud and rowdy. This was the third or fourth sentence Sylvia had spoken to Wes in the history of the universe. It wasn’t that she avoided him, but rather that they had no reason to interact. Different crowds, different instruments in the department – he piano, she the cello – different social rules. Nothing to lament, just fate keeping them apart until this moment, until this week. She looked as nervous as he felt.

“I don’t think it has anything to do with us,” he replied.

There wasn’t much more to say. Wes half-expected the girl to warn him not to “try anything,” but she did not. Maybe she knew him well enough after two years in the Music department to not see him as much of a threat, which he certainly wasn’t. Maybe she didn’t want to offend him before sharing a room with him for the next four nights. Maybe she was waiting until later to say it.

“What time are you coming to the room?” she asked.

“I dunno,” he answered. “Whenever Faith comes to see Roger, şerifali escort I suppose. It will be after midnight. Or whenever Roger gets horny.”

Sylvia laughed at that, but not hard. Still nervous.

She stood and left. Outside on the sidewalk, hundreds of students from three different college departments – Drama, English and Music (Vocal and Instrumental) – were yelling and throwing things. One of the English professors in charge stood on a suitcase and screamed for quiet. She said something about what to do and when and how, blah blah blah, then everyone went to their department heads for room keys. More blah blah blah from the department heads, and then up to the room to take a nap and sleep off the plane ride.

Yeah right. Floors thirty thru thirty-three quickly degenerated into collegiate unruliness. Guys tossed footballs, girls sat on the floor and played cards, some bottles of beer were smuggled past the gestapo professors. The biggest disturbance was the running – boys running down the halls, girls squealing and they ran away from boys, boys tackling each other and crashing. THOOM THOOM THOOM. The poor 29th floor must have been distraught. Many of the students descended on the streets of Chicago, even though they only had about half-an-hour to roam before the curfew went into effect. They all knew that no reprimand would include being excluded from the competition the following morning. These ivy leaguers were superstars in their own nerdy right, the best performers in their fields, and they knew it.

Wes stayed in his room and watched cable television. Two fellow pianists invited him to join them, but as much as he enjoyed their company, they were just so damn homosexual. They always talked about things that had nothing to do with him.

“Dude!” Roger shouted as he crashed into the room. The time was 9:30. “Time to switch rooms.”

Wes felt a pang of panic. “It’s too early, Rog.”

“The professors are staying seven blocks away in a different hotel. No hall monitors tonight, my friend.”

“No chaperones? With four hundred kids alone in a hotel? Do they have any idea what will happen?”

“Apparently not, Wes, but you sure as hell do.” Roger picked up the phone and called his escort. “Hey babe, come on up.” He turned to Wes. “You hungry? We’re ordering a pizza.”

Wes was still full from the McDonald’s in the lay-over airport. “Is Sylvia coming up?”

“Probably not, dude. Faith says she doesn’t eat pizza. Leave your room key for Faith, huh?”

That would explain the sculptured ass. “I guess I’ll leave you two to your fun.” He tried not to sound bitter, but it came out morose. What he was actually feeling was scared out of his fucking mind. What if he came off like a big nerd? Too late now. Leaving his suitcase in the room, he grabbed his backpack and headed for the elevator, still wearing the blue jeans and black t-shirt he’d worn on the plane. As the elevator opened, out popped Faith, a petite blonde with expensive-looking but not-very-attractive streaks in her short, straight hair. She looked like an MTV dancer, right down to the vacant stare.

Faith threw her arms around Wes and said, “Thanks so much! We owe you.” She slipped a room key into his hand and ran off.

Wes stepped into the elevator, dwelling too heavily on his resentment toward Faith. Why did she have to hug him? She’d never said a single word to him before, and addressing him affectionately just highlighted how far outside her radar he was. Popular kids always took liberties with the “little people,” like showering them with praise for one incident instead of treating them decently over a long period of time. But the alternative was worse – what did Faith “owe” him? How do you repay someone for helping you to hook up for sex with a roommate? He shuttered to think.

The door opened, and he found himself two floors below where the hotel registry said his room should be. Wes walked to Sylvia’s door, stuck the key card in his pocket and knocked on the door. Moments later, the door opened. Wes had intended to stay as non-nerd-like as possible, but he had not expected Sylvia’s hair to be wet. Her makeup-free face glowed cleanly. She was naturally gorgeous, and he wanted to die.

“Come in,” she said with a half-hearted smile. She wasn’t upset with Wes, apparently, but she wasn’t excited either. This was just damn weird.

“You took a shower?” Wes asked, making small-talk.

“Yeah,” was all Sylvia said in response. Dumb question, an obvious question. He put his backpack on the second bed. He remembered Roger explaining that he’d sleep on the floor, but this room had two beds just like Roger’s did. There would be no “You look uncomfortable, share the bed with me” scenarios this night. Thank goodness.

She stood in front of the mirror, drying her hair with her towel, trying to stay busy rather than start an awkward discussion. She wore the same purple vinyl shorts from the bus that showed off her long, breathtaking legs, silivri escort along with a white t-shirt that showed her bra strap, perhaps a subtle message to Wes that no one would be sleeping braless. Sylvia was barefoot, and Wes stared at her ankles. When he realized he was staring, he looked away, but away UP, at the girl’s ass.

A new approach was needed. He turned to his backpack, keeping busy as Sylvia had demonstrated. It was working. After a few minutes, they were navigating around each other like a married couple, putting toothbrushes in the bathroom, setting items on the end table. Sylvia laid out her performance clothes in the closet. After half-an-hour, they sat in chairs, silent. The room was very large, with two queen-size beds, a writing desk, two loveseats (now occupied) with a coffee table, the armoire that contained the television, other small tables around the beds.

“Do you mind if I open the drapes?” Wes asked. He did think of the room as Sylvia’s.

Sylvia corrected this notion. “It’s your room, too,” she said. “Open what you want.”

He stood and opened the heavy curtains hiding an entire wall of glass. Outside lay the city of Chicago, an architectural masterpiece that sprawled forward like an ocean of concrete, with no horizon in sight. The sky was clear, and all the lights of the city created a Christmas-like glow around every structure.

“Oh wow,” Wes said.

That caused Sylvia to turn in her chair, and the view made her gasp. She approached the other end of the window. “It’s beautiful!” she cried.

“Now that’s a city,” Wes uttered.

“Mmm-hmm,” Sylvia agreed. They surveyed the landscape in silence for a long minute or two. Wes had grown up in Montana where rolling plains were abundant and skyscrapers were few. He’d traveled to many places around the country and internationally, but every new city made a profound impression on him, especially the wonderful views from tall buildings. Many of the Chicago structures towered above them even from this high place.

Wes asked Sylvia without turning away from the window, “Where did you grow up?”

“New Mexico,” she said. “Lots of mountains.”

“Me too – I’m from Montana. Worked on a farm a lot as a kid.”

“It shows.”

Wes looked at Sylvia, and she was looking at him. He realized his heart had been pounding as he watched the city, and now it was thumping very hard.

She continued, “Farm work must be hard on a pianist’s hands.”

“I made due.”

“Yes you did,” Sylvia said. “I’ve heard you play. You’re the best in the department.”

Praise from Sylvia Anderson. Wes felt a lump in his throat. His teachers agreed he was the finest concert pianist of the current class, but the other students were not as effusive with their praise. Nothing like a little friendly competition to make following your life’s passion into a lonely, coveted pursuit.

“Thanks,” Wes said meekly. He felt a big grin creep across his face; he was powerless to stop it.

“You want to order a pizza?” Sylvia asked.

“Roger told me you didn’t like pizza.”

“How the heck would Roger know that?”

“Faith told him.”

“Oh.” Sylvia walked to her bed and sat on the edge. “She keeps inviting me to go out with her airhead friends. She was very nice to me our freshman year, and I just seem to be stuck in her orbit. The only way I can get some time to myself is to tell her I don’t like some of the same foods she does.”

“I guess that’s good for your figure,” Wes opined.

Sylvia blushed. It was as unexpected as it was beautiful. She was so much more shy than Wes had imagined. Still, she smiled pleasantly, pleased with the compliment. Wes, trying to give Sylvia time to recover from her embarrassment, opened a drawer and found the phonebook. They discuss their options, made a call and placed an order. When Wes hung up the phone, they were sitting on the same bed, awkwardly silent yet again.

“Wanna watch some TV?” Sylvia asked with a shrug.

“Yeah, sure.”

Sylvia grabbed the remote from the bed and turned the boob tube on. She laid down on her stomach, and that wonderful bottom was the only thing Wes could see. He knew he hadn’t been invited to share the bed, nor would he ask to, so he pulled one of the chairs to the foot of the bed and sat down.

“Here,” Sylvia said, handing Wes the remote. “Find us a good movie.”

Wes flipped the channels until he found HBO, where “Pulp Fiction” was playing.

“Ooooh, good movie,” Sylvia said. Wes was impressed with her taste. Then she said, “Too violent. Let’s watch something, I dunno, softer. Can you find a good romance?”

Wes enjoyed the occasional chick flick, or any kind of genre as long as the film didn’t suck. A few more flicks of the remote and Wes found “Eyes Wide Shut,” the last offering from Stanley Kubrick.

“Oh my god, I know what this is,” Sylvia said.

“You’ve seen it?”

“Yeah, with Faith and her friends. They’re şirinevler escort all perverts. They just loved it.”

“You didn’t?”

Sylvia shook her head. “There’s some great acting, but the story doesn’t really make sense.”

“Well, I actually thought it was a deep and moving story with a strong theme. But I had to watch it twice to get it… at the risk of sounding like a pervert.”

Sylvia said quickly, “Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t mean you were a pervert.”

“I know, I know,” Wes reassured her just as quickly. “I wasn’t really trying to convince you to watch it again. I’m sure there’s something else—”

“No, it’s good. I’ll take your word for it. Beside, when else will I have an excuse to watch this again? I’d never rent it, and I don’t have cable.”

“You don’t have cable? What do you do with your free time at home?” Wes asked as Tom Cruise drove his car. The two students looked at the TV as they talked, not really watching the movie.

“Oh man, I read all the time. I’m a real bookworm. I’m always in the middle of three or four books at a time.”

“What are you reading now?” Wes asked.

Sylvia mentioned one book Wes had never heard of, one that he’d read and enjoyed, and one that was his favorite of all time. They had an excited discussion for a few minutes about the decisions the characters made, slight ways in which they would have improved the ending, their favorite lines. This led to a long sampling of selections from their lists of favorites – books, movies, music artists, songs and albums, favorite foods, favorite places to vacation, favorite hangouts around New England. They found very few items that one or the other detested, and a multitude of favorites they had in common. After just a few minutes, they were making plans to swap books and videos and CDs when they returned to school.

When the pizza guy knocked on the hotel room door, Wes had almost forgotten about the pizza they ordered. Even though they only talked for half-an-hour, it seemed like they’d packed a lot into the conversation. They spent another half-hour eating, alternating between watching the movie and talking excitedly with their mouths full. Both of them stopped talking when the scene on the TV showed the two lead actors naked in front of the mirror, swaying to a Chris Issak song and caressing each other.

“Too bad they got divorced,” Sylvia said to break the silence. “Tom Cruise is an idiot. I think Nicole Kidman is one of the most beautiful women on earth.”

“I agree,” Wes replied around a mouthful of pepperoni. “But Penelope Cruz is cute, too.”

Sylvia turned to Wes with a mock look of surprise. “You’d trade Nicole Kidman for Penelope Cruz?”

Wes shrugged. “I guess I’m just more into brunettes. Redheads are nice, but I’m really attracted to dark hair. Latinos, Italians, Greeks. Can I ask what nationality you are?” Wes didn’t even realize the connection he’d made. They were simply two friends talking about “stuff.”

“Half-Mexican, half-Greek. But I’ve never met any of my family from either place. How about you?”

“My mom’s white, but my dad’s full-blood Italian.”

“You’re lucky your hair’s nice and thick. I think it’s really good-looking. I like dark hair, too.”

“I like your hair, too,” Wes replied. Sylvia’s dark hair had a reddish sheen to it and that stunning natural curl. “It matches your brown eyes.”

Sylvia rolled said eyes. “I hate my eyes. They’re the color of a shoe.”

“Not at all,” Wes quickly replied. “They’re very pretty. I think dark eyes are pretty.”

Sylvia flashed her pearly whites and looked away a bit. “I wanted to say that I like your eyes, too. I wish I had bright blue eyes like that.”

Wes hadn’t had much experience with women, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew what was going on between himself and this creature of unearthly beauty, but for some reason he didn’t feel nervous at all. Even if nothing physical ever happened between them, even if they never went on an actual date, at least he had a new friend that he could talk openly with about anything, even discussions about their physical appearance. He couldn’t deny that he was still strongly attracted to her, but the one area he didn’t know much about was how to tell if she was also attracted, and so he was content to keep the conversation simple.

One line of questioning nagged at him, though. They’d been talking for two hours, watching the longest movie of all time and getting along famously. So he went for it.

“Sylvia, can I ask you something a little personal?”

“Oh oh,” she answered with mock apprehension. “Get it over with, I guess.”

“It’s nothing like that. I was just wondering if you think of yourself as shy.”

Sylvia was obviously embarrassed by the question, but Wes had anticipated that and asked anyway. She said, “I dunno. I’m not really afraid of anything, if that’s what you mean.”

“No no, not at all. I just meant… Well, my first impression of you was that you were… soft-spoken. You don’t seem like a really flamboyant person. But you’re very good-looking, and you wear nice clothes, and I thought it was sort of odd that you would take so much care in your appearance but not really get aggressive moving up the social ladder. You seem to keep to yourself. But I don’t really know you that well, so all I’m basing it on it a first impression. I hope I’m not out of line.”

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Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
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The first Thursday of every month for the past two years, you and I have gotten together for wine and chess, alternating between your place, mine, and the chess club where we met. Tonite it is your turn to play host and when I arrive, there is a note on your door: “See me inside.” As always, I enjoy the word-play. I am so easily delighted by everything from the most childish puns to the cleverest double-entendres.

I open the door with a grin and step into the foyer. I stop to listen for the sound of you moving around, but I can hear nothing. For once, your place is immaculate, and my eyes rest appreciatively upon a japanase tansu chest whose lacquered surface is usually covered in junk mail and dust. What a gorgeous piece. As I approach to examine it more closely, I spot a another note, this one on the newel post. “Upstairs,” it reads.

I kick my shoes off and wiggle my toes, enjoying the colour of the coral pink polish applied during yesterday’s pedicure. Lovely. And so nice to be barefoot at the end of a long day. I pad up the stairs, admiring the old photographs on the wall, stopping as always before the one of your great-grandfather taken when he retired as a sea captain. The ocean and the sun carved character lines into his leathery skin, and his eyes seem to hold so much wisdom and sadness.

On the top step is another piece of paper, which states, “My room,” instead of “Den”, as I expected. My smile fades a bit, and I consider turning around and leaving. I was enjoying this game, but I didn’t come here for seduction, and I thought, after all this time, that you understood that. I enjoy our friendship very much, and while I also enjoy the sexual tension between us, I have never had any intention of acting on it. Feeling a bit like a pawn, concerned about being out-manouevred, I follow the instructions and approach your room, the door of which is closed. When I open it, I notice an immediate change in the temperature and humidity of the air. Faint music wafts from the adjoining bathroom: something Hayden, I think.

Curious, I enter the bathroom to find you leaning back in a clawfoot tub, your eyes closed, arms draped along the rim. There is a bar of soap in one hand and a washcloth in the other. Your chest rises and falls in a slow rhythm, and it appears to be half-lathered. A king in his own castle, you are in another world, listening to the music, a hint of a smile on your lips. I smile, too. I do so love a man who appreciates a long hot bath, and there is no doubt in my mind that you are enjoying yours. I walk silently across the floor and carefully lower the lid of the toilet seat so I can sit.

Once I am settled comfortably across from you, I make a bold opening move, speaking just loudly enough to be heard over the music. “If you needed your back scrubbed you could have asked. It wasn’t necessary to go to such elaborate lengths.”

Your eyes open wide and you jerk a bit, making the water splash against the sides of the tub. I have startled you. We stare at each other for a long, unguarded moment, and the energy between us changes, shifts from sexual tension to something sensuous and sweetly langourous. You smile slowly and hold the bar of soap out to me. It is an innocuous move that lulls my caution. I hesitate a moment, then move to kneel on the bathmat.

You are warm and wet and smell deliciously of soap. When I take the bar and the washcloth from your hand, I can feel the heat radiating from your body, and from your gaze. I look into your eyes, but something in me dares not look too long. Something in me struggles languidly, uncertain if it should make a token resistance, or a stronger, decisive move. There is desire, oh yes, no question, and yet, caution, also. I know that if I succumb to what is rising between us, all will change, and I know I’ve not given the consequences nearly enough thought.

I put my hands on your shoulders. They are slick with water and soap, and the warm, slippery wetness creates havoc with my emotions. I bite my lip. I don’t want you to see my face, to see the feelings and internal conflict running so close to the surface. I feel too exposed, even though I am the one fully clothed.

“Turn around,” I say, as casually as possible, but my voice sounds breathy even to my ears.

I turn my head aside, looking out the window as you shift to a kneeling position in the water, and when you are still I return my gaze to you. ‘Mistake’, I think to myself, as I look at the length of your back. It is a somewhat androgenous back, lacking hair and predominant muscles. It is almost feminine it its graceful lines, but broader and slightly more defined than a woman’s back. I’ve massaged it more than a few times, but this time… this time something is subtly different. I resist the urge to kiss you, there, where the shoulder and neck meet, and soap my hands up instead.

I close my eyes and let my fingers slide along your shoulders and down your back to just above your buttocks and then up again. I press my slippery fingers in between the muscles and sancaktepe escort you arch your back a bit. ‘This is a mistake,’ chides the cautious part of my mind, for my sex is suddenly warm and I can feel the flow of moisture within me. ‘There is no harm in a soap massage’, I tell myself. I try picturing your back as a chessboard, my hands moving imaginary pieces across it. But I am in a sensual trance, all nerve-endings and langorous warmth, and my cautious self is lulled by the rhythmic movements of my body.

I repeatedly trace my hands down your back and up again, fingers finding and releasing the little knots in your muscles. You lean forward a bit and your knees come apart, causing your buttocks rise a little higher above the water. I slide my hands down your back again, over your bottom and down, into the water, thoughtlessly and beyond all caution. I have made a reckless move with my queen, I realize. How will you respond?

You make the slightest move back toward me as one of my hands cups you from behind, then, as the other slides forward over that part of you where longing concentrates itself, you shudder and sigh. It is wonderful, that sigh, and I cannot help myself. I kiss your shoulder, exhaling on the wet skin, touching it with my tongue. I lean further over the tub, my breasts pressing against your back, and whisper into your ear, “Do you want me to stop?”

For a long moment there is no sound, no response. I know that, like me, you are probably struggling to weigh the consequences of acting upon your desires. You make a move that will sacrifice your pawn, placing one of your hands over mine, intertwining our fingers around the heat of your sex. Your hand guides mine in its movements, teaching me the rhythm you like, revealing the places that make you shiver with pleasure and suck in your breath. Before long your body tenses and you let out a groan. I can feel your cock moving in my hand, but you pull our interlaced fingers away and upwards, out of the water.

You shift position and lean against the back of the tub. Your dark eyes study me. I can feel the heat rushing up from under the bodice of my dress, warming my neck and staining my cheeks. Your eyes run over me in such a meaningful way that there is no doubt in my mind that you are aware of my arousal. I curse my nipples, those barometers of mood whose hardness is surely visible through my damp dress. You tug on my hand. Kissing it, you ask, “Join me?”

I curse, too, the wetness between my legs, and the ache your voice and your words bring me there. I tremble on the edge of saying something flip and handing you a towel, of doing whatever I must to break the tangible sexual tension between us, but I don’t want to. In being flippant I might hurt your feelings, and my fondness for you prevents such callousness.

The ethics of the moment grip me. I am acutely aware that my morals differ from the mainstream. I am uniquely able to love intensely and eloquently with my entire being, living so entirely in the moment that nothing exists outside my sphere of sensual pleasure. It is a quality which draws lovers to me and keeps them close, only to be burned when I end the relationship as originally agreed. I do not confuse love and sex, no matter how transcendant the experience of it. I remember past discussions with you and I wonder if you have understood this about me. I wonder if what we have started here will soon end, as it must, for me to continue.

Your face is alight with expectancy and confidence. You know my answer, as do I. But do you know my terms? This queen is not cornered, I still have a few moves left.

“You know that my life is complex and full. I have time for dalliance but not for more…” I touch your bottom lip with a finger and you take it into your mouth, sliding your tongue across the tip in a way that makes me convulse, wringing a gasp from me. You know these words for what they are: capitulation. ‘That which yields is not weak,’ I remind myself as I yield myself up to the passion rising between us. I lean toward you and your hands grip my hips, sliding over my dress, then up again.

You lean toward me, and I know that you want to kiss. I am conscious that this is our first real kiss, nothing so casual as the hello-goodbye-thank-you kisses of the past. I touch my mouth to yours and take a gentle, sucking nibble of your lower lip, enjoying the feel of it between my teeth. As I start to pull away your hand lifts from the bath’s edge and cups the back of my head, deepening the kiss. We open our mouths and our tongues touch fleetingly, flirting, stoking the heat spiralling inside me.

I break the kiss and stand upright, swaying slightly at the head-rush. You are looking up at me and I see the need in you, answering my own. Wordlessly, I step out of my dress, leaving it to pool at my feet. I feel that fleeting self-consciousness all women seem to feel when disrobing for a new lover, that feeling of uncertainty: will he or she find me sarıyer escort attractive when I am naked? You regard me for a moment in silence and then put my concerns to rest as your hands raise to my hips, pulling me gently toward you. I step closer to the tub. You hook your fingers in my panties and slide them down. I step out of them and stand with my legs a little farther apart. I look down on you sitting there in the tub, and I smile at the two surprises I know are in store for you: the smoothness of my mound, and the size of my clitoris.

Your eyes fix on my very bare sex, studying the soft folds of skin. Your fingers press more firmly into me, and I watch as you lick your lips. I raise my hands behind me and unfasten my bra, that final item of clothing. Your eyes raise to take in my breasts and my hardened nipples. In one fluid movement you are on your knees in the tub, and one of my nipples is in your mouth. I groan and my knees feel like they are going to buckle, but the lip of the tub props me up. You release it and bury your face against my belly. You inhale deeply, and I know that you can smell my arousal. You tilt your head back to look at me.

“It would be a shame to lose that to soap and water,” you say.

I nod my agreement and lower my left hand to touch myself. My fingers slide between the lips of my sex with ease, and unerringly find the centerpoint of my pleasure. I am wet, and my clit is hard, and warm, and when I touch it I feel a giddiness wash over me. I flick it with my index finger, once, twice, then run my fingers down into my pussy, slipping two in easily for all the moisture there. I close my eyes and enjoy the wanton feeling of pleasuring myself in the presence of another person.

You inhale deeply once again, and I can hear you swallowing hard. I slip my fingers out and hold them up to you as an offering. You take my index finger into your mouth, and as you do, a soft moan rumbles in your throat. You suckle my finger clean of juice, then relinquish it. I raise my fingers to my mouth and suck the other one. I love my own taste and smell, slightly musky, slightly sweet, and as I savour it, you pull me forward until my back is arched and my hips are pressing forward. I know what I want you to do, I know what I yearn for. The thought of it makes me clench and a trickle of juice starts a long slide down my inner thighs.

I take your head in my hands and press myself against your face. Your mouth opens and you do just what I want, diving your tongue into the naked folds of my labia. A mouth can bring so much pleasure. Lips, teeth, tongue and the liquid heat of the orifice itself are instruments with which to bring delightful torment. I shamelessly rock against your mouth as you nibble and suck, wishing for all the world that you could swallow me entire. My clit swells and becomes the center of my universe, and you suck it, worrying it with your tongue, pushing me by inches toward the precipice. Moans escape me, some langourous, some sharp. I feel the first of many orgasms coming on, and my legs tremble.

“Fingers,” I gasp, and taking your hand, I part my thighs to accept the fingers you hook inside me. I am briefly grateful that your hands are smooth, rather than rough and callused like those of a day laborer. I might have taken more time to admire your hands, but the presence of your fingers sliding up into me is all that it takes to set me off. I stiffen, my muscles tightening around your fingers, clenching and releasing in involuntary response to the tormenting of your mouth. I throw my head back, and leaning one hand against the bathroom wall, I give myself up to my orgasm. A series of short, sharp cries breaks from my throat and with my free hand I try to tear your head away, to end the pleasure that has intensified beyond all bearing. The fingers within me still, but your other hand presses against my sacrum, holding me in place, and you continue to lap my clit, slower and slower, until the muscles of my vagina have stopped quivering and instead begin clenching in time to the strokes of your tongue. I find it diabolical and admirable, your approach, and breaking away from you, I say so.

I step into the tub and lower myself into it, facing you. I lean back and close my eyes for a moment. I can feel the arms I rest on the rim of the bath tremble ever so slightly, and my breath is still coming a bit fast, making my breasts sway in the water. My skin is sensitized, and I am conscious of so many things: the cool porcelain of the tub, the still-warm water, the tendrils forming at my hairline, the feel of your knees pressing into mine. I breathe deeply of the soap-and-sex scented air and open my eyes. I wonder if you like the things you read behind them as I meet your stare with one of my own. A knowing smile lights my face as I look briefly into the water and my eyes catch a glimps of what rises from your lap.

I do not need to touch you to know that you are hard, but I do so anyway. I wrap my fingers around sefaköy escort you and tug slightly, making your skin slide forward, causing your cock to jerk. Your sigh of pleasure fades and a silence drapes the room. We are wrapped in it and our own thoughts, each of us considering what will come next, what beauteous pleasure may yet unfold, if neither of us mis-steps. As I tug on you again I think it inevitiable that before night’s end I will feel you moving inside me, but what morning will bring with regards to our friendship is unknown to me.

Something of my uncertainty must have revealed itself on my face, because you take one of my feet in your hands and begin soaping it, massaging all the way up to my knee. You do the same thing with my other leg, then instruct me to turn around, so you can do my back.

I slip around and kneel with my back to you. A cascade of warm water flows down over my skin, and then your soapy fingertips are there, tracing the muscles in my back and shoulders. Your fingers are firm but gentle, and doing a credible job of working out the tension between my shoulder blades. Slippery fingers press along my spine, following it down to my hips. You lean forward, pressing your face into my hair. I feel your breath on my wet skin just a moment before you press your lips to my neck. A wave of gooseflesh washes over me, making my nipples tighten and my breath catches. Mmmm.

Your mouth near my ear, you softly say “Raise up, please.”

I do so, placing my hands on the side of the tub, arching my back and leaning forward slightly. I drop my head and relax into your touch as your soapy hands work along my hips and press deeply into my buttocks. One hand slides forward, caressing the folds of my flesh. You find my clitoris and make me gasp, sending a jolt of pleasure through me. The intimacy of your touch, of your fingers teasing my opening and pressing gently into me is magical. I am as liquid as the bathwater, body-surfing on the tide of pleasure that rides through me. I have become an instrument giving voice to the stroke of your fingers, so the barest movement by either of us calls forth moans and sighs. My nipples are hard, so hard that they ache. I cup my breasts in my hands and tweak the nipples, leaning back into you, wanting your fingers to slide deeper, but you slide them out, instead. The sense of loss is immediately replaced by wonder and apprehension as I feel your thighs pressing against mine and the hot length of your sex pushing up under my bottom, ready and eager to slide inside me.

Again, your breath on on my ear, and it is your turn to ask, “Do you want me to stop?”

Your words, whispered in such a teasing way, send a frisson through me. Where just moments ago I was nearly swooning with pleasure, now heat is chased by a cold dose of reality. Do I want you to stop? No! Yes! Wait. Wait. Why? I want this. I want you. I can feel the heat of you pressing against me, into me, and I want more. But try as hard as I might to succumb entirely to passion, my brain puts on the brakes. Why?

Ah! I remember now. No sex without a condom. It becomes a litany running around in my mind. No sex without a condom. I struggle to re-establish the connection between mind and voice, to tell you what I want. I don’t know for how long I have hesitated, but it is long enough for you to take my silence as consent. You shift position slightly and I feel your tip starting to push into me.

“Stop,” I moan, and thankfully, you do. In this moment I am endlessly grateful to you for your responsiveness and sensitivity.

“What is wrong?” You ask, and your voice is tremulous. I can hear the stress in it, and I can feel the increased tension in your body.

I struggle to shape the words to make you understand me. Finally, I simply say that which has been running around in my head, “No sex without a condom.”

You groan and and your hands move up to cup my breasts. You press me backwards, up against your chest, and sigh into my hair. Your king is under pressure. Will you castle?

“Ok,” you say, squeezing me in a gentle hug, “I have some in the dresser.”

Smiling, I pull the stopper in the tub and the sound of water swirling down the drain fills the room. My legs are trembling a bit, so I lift myself out of the tub very carefully, and grab a towel. After wrapping it around me, I pull another towel off the rack and gesture for you to stand up. When you do, I take a moment to admire your grace and the movement of your cock, still hard and flushed with colour. You step out of the tub and I take a minute to dry your chest and back off with long, slow strokes. I kneel to dry your legs and bump into your sex by mistake. You jump a bit in surprise and perhaps discomfort, and remourseful, I take your cock into my hand and kiss the tip. My ministration is rewarded by a pulsing in my hand, and a clear droplet of fluid forms there.

I breathe in the scent of your pre-come and my mouth waters. I stick out my tongue and with the tip taste you. Yum. Yes. Yummm. I sigh voluptuously and your cock jerks in my hand, so I decide comfort it with my mouth. I slide the first few inches past my lips and now it is your turn to sigh, a sound both languid and strangled, as though your mind has gone ‘ahhh’ but your body has decided that the arousal level has been turned up another couple of notches and isn’t sure how much more it can bear.

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

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

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

I

GROWING UP YOUNG

I liked Herb and Lianne–him for his smooth reserve and pride in his wife’s charms, her for her interest in others and her broad humor, and both for their mature beauty and abundant sexual energy. Angela and I look forward to their company on future occasions. Although we are young, my step-sister and I have had some unusual experiences ourselves; and our relationship with the Woods has been warm and rewarding.

My own interest in sex developed early and strong. Many of its mysteries were solved by Angela’s coming to live with us, which lasted only a brief few months because the thunderbolt of losing both parents sent us in different directions–me to a boys’ boarding school, Angela to live with her Aunt Louise through her early college years.

Imagine the loneliness of a seventeen-year-old boy, suddenly bereft of family, arriving at a strange new school in January! Although the campus was beautiful, the food excellent, and the masters nice, all my friends were two hundred miles away. It was a bleak few weeks before I got to know John Stanton, a lacrosse teammate who was also in my advanced placement classes. His father was something in the State Department. I liked him because he was loaded with energy–hustling on the field and making interesting comments in class. But best because he was friendly and kind of adopted me. Consequently I was overjoyed that he asked me to be his roommate senior year.

Perhaps I was idealizing this relationship, but from being devastated by personal loss, in six months I had become the best friend of a bright and attractive campus leader. He certainly was very good-looking. Let me speak the truth: I had a crush on John. On the other hand, I did not perceive myself as the minor partner: I got the better grades in class and my athletic skills were on a par with his.

Physically we were much alike–nearly mirrored figures–six feet tall, weighing 150 pounds. John was a dark-eyed brunette, though not hairy; I’m a blue-eyed blond. Our physical commonality did not stop there: in the locker room we suffered the embarrassment of having the largest penises. John took his hanging in stride; and his nonchalant carriage helped me–somewhat–to be at ease with my length. He told me the other guys were jealous.

John’s personal openness became more evident in our first weeks as roommates. Arising from bed one morning, he sauntered past me with a strong erection visible through his pajama bottoms. A spreading patch of fresh semen darkened the blue material just below the waist tie. This glimpse of his brimming sexual power and energy I found oddly thrilling. His letting me see reminded me of Angela’s casual nudity. In both cases I very much wanted to see more. John, like Angela, did not disappoint. Two or three more times, without trying, I got to see him bare with a hard on; and there was more evidence of morning masturbation. (I mean, wet dreams, like menstruation, are monthly phenomena—not nightly.)

I was surprised by the pleasure I got from his artless exhibitions. Realizing that he wanted me to admire those erections, I pondered the possibility that he’d like to be fondled and jerked off as realistic and attractive. In truth, I wanted to play with John’s handsome cock and perhaps jerk him off. I started to get erections myself thinking about John. My own arousals had been heretofore private affairs, but now I wanted my secret sharer to know the real me; and the next time I got a hard on in our shower I kept it and moved naked in front of John in the bedroom.

“Oh, wow, Bill, that’s a beauty! I bet you’d like to give it to some girl.”

“Oh, yeah,” I returned, not moving out of John’s view and in no way hurrying to dress–my full eight inches rock-hard, proud at John’s approval.

The floodgates were now open for confessions of our sexual experience: John’s frustrated virginity; my recent action with Angela, whom I had fucked all summer.

During that vacation period things progressed rapidly, practically as soon as I got home. Sometimes she’d come and sit on my bed with her pajama top three buttons open and tell me about some of her hot dates at college. She definitely wanted me to see her big boobs. I vividly recall her request for a towel from the linen closet and thanking me mid-floor in our bathroom, pink, dewy, and proud. “Do you like my tits?” she asked. She did have big swingers and their broad pink tips glowed and grew pointy to her touch.

And then it was my touch, and things progressed from there. We had fondling sessions, in which she showed me how to massage her “little-man-in-the-boat;” and I got so good at it that the next week we were fucking on the bathroom floor.

Consequently, in my bull sessions with John, I was the master teacher. I wanted to tell John all about everything, except I made a snap judgment to substitute the name of küçükçekmece escort Sally Pew, my attractive hometown neighbor, for Angela. I luxuriated in describing for John Angela’s beauty and teachings–anonymously, as it were. God! I hoped he would never meet Sally Pew. As the weeks wore on, we practiced some of my learnings. He wanted to know how to kiss properly, and he got very good at it. I mean he was one passionate guy. “Your strong, deep tongue action,” I professed, “is symbolic of your desire to fuck the girl, and her sucking your tongue tells you she wants it.”

We would take turns being the girl, and play with our lovers’ cocks as we’d like our girls to do. John made me so horny that I told him a good girl would suck too! And he willingly became my first guy. I loved him so much I said he could come in my mouth. I could anticipate his gift by his arching back, tightening buttocks, and fierce cradling of my head. There was no more morning masturbation. I guess I had been jealous of the blue pajama bottoms.

The truth is I’m not homosexual with generic men. Guys can strike me as so-so attractive, but it stops there. With John, on the other hand, I was sexually his, I rationalized, because, as my best friend and confidant, he was an aspect of myself. I wanted his pleasure as my own. This line of thinking generated my deep desire that Angela herself enjoy the strong virgin spurts of John’s beautiful cock and that he, as a part of me, the moist, sweet warmth of her ready pussy. That she was now on the pill meant that she could accommodate the pent-up lust of his godlike body. It would be a couple of years before I told him I was in love with Angela; so I sidled into my fantasy with the information that my nineteen-year-old step-sister, who had big melons and had become sexually active, might be talked into having a date with him. He became decidedly interested. The windows of opportunity were Christmas and Easter vacations; and, with John’s family in Turkey, I inveigled an invitation from Angela’s aunt for him to come along with me to The Buttonwoods.

It happened perfectly. Angela was game, although we agreed that they should play it by ear and that I should hold my brotherly love in check while John was visiting. Holy smokes, how I would have loved to watch, unseen! At any rate, Auntie assigned John to the guest bedroom so that their privacy was assured. Shortly it became clear that they were much taken with each other. Angela was refreshed and uplifted by John’s exuberance as I continued to be.

After graduation John, Angela, and I remained lovers for the next three years–until John’s sudden death in November of our junior year at Princeton. Returning from Thanksgiving Break, he was killed in a senseless car accident. The horror of it still haunts us.

Besides John, I made two other wonderful friends at school: they were my lacrosse coach, Reggie Pope, and his wife Becky, who later became my English teacher. They welcomed me into their home shortly after I went out for lacrosse. As “Uncle Herman,” my godfather, really didn’t have much time for me, this young couple became the chief adults in my life. The dynamic Becky, who honed my writing skills and massaged my manhood, was twenty-eight years old when, with Reggie’s blessings, she took me as her “co-marital lover,” as she called it. She combined English instruction with our sex. In helping me to forestall ejaculation, she said that I should keep my poise as Robert Frost’s swinger of birches climbed to the topmost branches toward heaven, carefully without spilling. Then at the very top we could both go down together.

After graduation I continued to send Becky the stuff I had written, and we’ve continued to meet for cultural and sexual events, which have been more frequent since I attained my majority. They’ve even welcomed Angela at our get-togethers to keep Reggie company.

II THE BEST MAN

My college English profs encouraged my bent for writing, and upon graduation I got an assistantship at a Big 10 university to work toward a Master of Fine Arts degree. After I had two stories published, my advisor wanted me to help him put on a series of summer seminars for young writers up in Michigan. That was my first paying job, and it coincided with Angela’s research year in Africa. John, snatched from us forever; Angela, half a world away; and the Popes two states removed–I had been willingly celibate for four months. But settling into the “campus” on the shore of Big Beaver Pond with forty lightly clad high school boys and girls drifting joyously about, my sap began to rise again.

During the first week I made the blessed acquaintance of Marie, a petite redhead–serving mashed potatoes in the chow line. She was a cook there during the six-week series. Younger than the rest of the kitchen staff, küçükyalı escort she was convivial with the students and faculty, and her wide smile and good humor got the meals off to a pleasant start.

Three nights a week we had readings or films, and on Saturday evenings there was dancing, which was well attended. Marie was an interested audience at the readings and a regular at the dances, which gave me a chance to enjoy her company out from under the white apron. As a matter of fact, she was brighter than most of the participants, having just graduated cum laude in biology from a prestigious Southern university, with plans to start medical school in September. Her sparkling personality was neatly wrapped in the twenty-two-year-old body of an athlete–her high breasts, small and pert; the supple legs, shaped for action. Close dancing, I would rest my chin on her sweet-smelling short-cropped head while her mons would urgently ride my high thigh. Under the circumstances I despaired of concealing her effect on me, and my hardness returned her hump of desire. Sometimes when the music stopped, I’d whisper, “Let’s keep dancing out onto the porch.” She’d know what was up, and the twinkle in her eyes and sexy smile signaled that we were kindred souls. Later we’d walk around by the lake, joke, and talk a while before some prolonged goodnight kissing by the door of her sleeping quarters. After that, I’d go back to my cabin, there to imagine her undisclosed charms and the joys of being her lover.

One Sunday afternoon we signed up for a canoe and, wearing bathing suits and carrying jackets against the northern breezes, set out across the lake. We had a wonderful time sharing our stories. Out there in the stillness of God’s world, my “round unvarnished tale” I told. I’d seen fit after two years to tell John about Angela and me, but how was it that here I was spilling everything to this colleen of two weeks acquaintance? Perhaps it was that, being from different worlds, we’d probably not see each other after that summer. Besides, Marie was an earnest listener–gentle in her understanding and sympathy. Her eyes would well up with tears at the sad parts of my story.

Of her past she told of a slow breakaway from the strictures of a Catholic girlhood. The innocence that she took to college was nearly complete. After dating the scion of well-known tobacco family her last two years, she became engaged. Their petting, she explained, was satisfactory in most respects, but a few questions lingered about their physical compatibility. She regularly brought the young man to orgasm by jerking, and he was good with her breasts, but his manual entry of her vagina, she explained, wasn’t enough. Good heavens, I thought, I was the navigator of a floating sex clinic! Being multi-orgasmic at her own touch, she went on, she strongly desired sexual intercourse–as a premarital precaution!

At this point in Marie’s story, I felt a cool breeze on the tip of my hardening cock: it had slipped past the slack elastic of my inner jock. A split-vision glance confirmed that two more inches of aspiring author were out and enjoying the afternoon on the lake. “Of course,” I said warmly and kept on paddling.

She went on the pill, she said, to encourage the consummation, but it never happened. After her visit to the plantation to meet the family, for some reason he called off the September wedding. “He just said he couldn’t go through with it,” she wailed and started to cry. To console the dear creature I shipped my paddle, remanded the wild bird to its cage, and clambered forward to kneel between her lovely white thighs and to hold her in my arms for nearly ten minutes.

“You’ve been so brave!” I acknowledged when I returned to the stern.

“I’ve told you all this, I guess, because of your honesty and sweetness,” she explained. “And because your kisses, Bill, have made me want more!” With that, she trippingly made her way aft to be with me. “I’ve felt your John Henry while dancing; I’ve seen it–canoeing. I want to touch it.” And she fished John Henry from his hiding place in the left leg of my trunks. She drew the foreskin back from the gleaming pink glans and jerked him gently. “It’s so beautiful!” she cooed. My mock-blissful reaction led her laughingly to cover up the evidence, and then we kissed. “May I finish the job tonight? Did you ever deflower a virgin girl? … Well? … And aren’t you ready for a summer romance? … How about nine o’clock? I’ll come to you.”

Sitting on the front step of my cabin, waiting for Marie to finish in the kitchen, I was a wreck. The night waxed very dark before she came. Inside the door we kissed searchingly–warm, wet, deep, and long–before I fumbled the buttons free down the front of her denim shirt. After Marie withdrew her arms and I’d flung the garment to a nearby chair, maltepe escort she reached for John Henry, hardening in my jeans and gave him a tantalizing squeeze. She stood back then, and swung her shoulders and white-cradled breasts. “Want to see them?”

“Oh, yes, dear.” They were holy moments as she herself unfastened the hooks and dropped the bra atop the discarded shirt. Her boobs, the size of tennis balls, had nipples like small strawberries. I came behind her to knead the precious handfuls. When the sash of her slacks became another challenge, again Marie took over.

“Take your shirt and pants off, Bill. School’s over. Time to go to bed.” In seconds I was completely nude only to be transfixed by the teasy grace of Marie’s slow stripping. A few freckles besprinkled her arms and upper chest; otherwise her coloration was of the purest white. Her curves unmuffled by clothes took my breath away. The slim waist accentuated the flare of her hips and the jut of her rounded alabaster buns. The inviting heft of her upper thighs was consonant with the astonishing thrust of her mons, tufted with the dark red spray of her maidenhood. “I love your hair,” I volunteered.

“Thank you. Just a month ago it was long–nearly down to my waist. Had to chop it off. Sanitation, sanitation–we even wear hair-nets in the kitchen! You wouldn’t want to find one of my hairs in your mouth while eating!”

To myself I thought, “Tis a consummation devoutly to be wished.” Aloud I said, “It’s beautiful!”

We embraced standing–Marie on tiptoe, yearning, working John Henry to a light froth with her slender fingers. And on to my hermit’s cot we moved for oral loving. Marie’s pussy was so unlike Angela’s and Becky’s, whose clitoral sheaths and labia major are fleshily palpable. Marie’s sex seemed girlishly interior. I wondered at our compatibility: could she accommodate me without pain? Nonetheless, the flow of her lubrication said, “Yes,” and my stiff tongue’s easy penetration of her vagina added hope. Also it found the invisible–the lips and tiny clit, which proved super-sensitive to my sucking. I continued my tongue action all through her bumping back into my teeth and lips to maximize my erotic play. Her rapid breathing became a rhythmic cooing, and then she cried out and contorted; and, tossed on the waves of her orgasm, she lost control of her urethral sphincter. The warm gush I took as love’s surrender, an ascent to a new level of intimacy.

“What happened, Bill?”

“You had an orgasm. I loved it!”

“Did I ever! You are too much!” We kissed, diddled, and sucked lovingly a while before Marie whispered, “I want you inside me, Bill. It’s safe for you to come in me, you know, I want you to. Okay? You’re awfully big now. I hope I can take it.”

Did she ever! Mother Nature be praised! My erections, a trifle longer than eight inches, have a circumference of seven inches. How my tiny virgin bride possessed it all is wondrous. After her warm, slippery clasp of my first half-strokes, my long barrel was halfway in. Then she smiled with tentative pride and said, “I like your big cock inside me. Are we fucking yet?”

“I’d say we’re off to a good start. Do you want a little more?”

“Oh, yes. Stick it way in.” And then we started slowly. She was rocking with me. “Come on!” she coached. We both wanted it, and I fucked strongly through the dear girl’s hymen. She cried out sharply. Tears spilled out of her eyes. Attempting to kiss them away, I tasted their salt. Then I noticed that she was smiling broadly. I lay quiet deeply immersed in the wet warmth of her cunt. “You are something big!” she exclaimed, and we both laughed. “ I say let’s keep on fucking.”

“You are so wonderful, Marie sweet,” I mused, doing a couple of slow “out-and-ins.” She was so clutchingly warm and responsive. And shortly we really “got with it.” She answered my thrusts, and I was all the way in and out and in and out and in… Her eyes closed; the smile of satisfaction became the grimace of lust as, midst groans and moans, our assault of the hill of ecstasy began. Marie was fucking beautifully and continued unto our peaks and over. After-play that sacred evening was special: in the glow of our achievement we each felt rich for the other’s gift.

So began our month of bliss. Secret lovers, we had been–soon to be off on diverging highways. At our parting I said, “It may be that in another season I shall marry and sire four little boys, but I shall never forget you, darling Marie–the bride of my life.”

Nor did she forget. Some three years later, during the weeks before Angela and I left for Martinique, the invitation arrived. Mailed from some town in Indiana, forwarded from grad school to our New York address–it was to the December wedding of “Marie Anne McPhail, M.D. to Garth Porter, M.D.” The enclosed note said, “I suppose you won’t be able to come, but I wanted you to know … I’ll be thinking of you. Love, M.A.M.”

Oh thank you, M.A.M. You’re always in my thoughts. I loved, honored, and obeyed you, putting our summer romance in the top drawer reserved for memories. I let you go, as we agreed I should. But I didn’t! Talk about “mixed emotions”–I guess they are a part of one’s growing up. Mine is clearly a work in progress.

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I am not a writer but I am an avid reader of erotic stories. I tried to write a few non fiction stories based on my own weird fantasies but I could never finish them. Then I read some of the stories here and it gave me the idea of writing about true “incidents” that I was involved in. I found this a little easier as I only have to describe what actually happened to me in one event at a time. The following story is completely true and I hope you enjoy reading it. Constructive criticism (good or bad) is most welcome and appreciated.

*

My wife was in hospital after just having our first baby. I stayed with her until she fell asleep and then made my way home. I was horny as usual and phoned my mistress (calling her Emily) to arrange to pick her up on the way. Emily and I had been having an affair for a few years and used any opportunity to get together for sex.

I collected Emily and drove to my house where we immediately retired to the bedroom for a fucking session. It wasn’t long before we were naked and enjoying each others bodies.

I love panty swapping so I had Emily wear a pink cotton panties belonging to my wife. (I love fucking a woman while she is wearing another woman’s panties).

All was going great for a while, we were having our usual amazing (ten times better than the wife) sex. I was on top in the missionary position. Emily was gasping and groaning underneath me; her fingers were dug into my ass plunging me deep inside her as she pleasured herself on my prick. I knew she was about to cum and I was more than ready to join her.

Emily’s body began to shudder and she soon began her usual gasping with “fuck me, I’m your whore” dirty talk. I replied calling her a slut and a bitch for fucking her friend’s husband while she was wearing her friend’s knickers.

The dirty talk kartal escort pushed us to the edge and brought a loud gasp of pleasure from Emily. I knew she was “on the brink” as I felt her pussy clamp onto my prick. I felt my own raw lust build up and I was ready to shoot my load. I stroked faster and then felt the wondrous sensation of my cum shooting through my throbbing prick into Emily’s pussy.

Emily’s orgasm was almost instantaneous. She jerked her hips towards me and began to cry out loud coming hard and shuddering all over.

All I could think about was shoving my cock into her wet, tight pussy and filling it up with my cum. I was well past the point of no return when suddenly a light shone in from outside through the half open door.

The room became illuminated in bright light. My immediate thought was “my wife has come home”. I watched in horror as the door fully opened and, as if in slow motion I saw, not my wife, but my wife’s older sister poke her head inside. I could only stare at her as her expression changed from mildly curious to bad surprise and then just pure raw horror.

The sight that greeted her was one of confusion and naked bodies. The bed covers had long been kicked off so we were fully exposed when that light came on. I was desperately trying to withdraw from Emily’s pussy even as my prick was still ejaculating my load. Emily was in the process of screaming out her first loud “ahhhhhhhhhhhh” while turning her head towards the door to see our unexpected visitor.

My brain felt on fire as contradicting commands were issued that my body and dick were in no position to carry out. I just could not stop coming. Emily was looking towards Mary but her gasping continued and I knew that she was also having trouble in stopping. She no longer screamed but kaynarca escort couldn’t help whimpering quietly as her body continued to orgasm

Pulling out my dick at that point wasn’t a very good idea. I should probably have stayed inside her until I had finished. As it is I finally withdrew my still pumping and throbbing cock only to make matters worse by involuntary ejaculating the remainder of my cum into the air. I tried to stop it with my hand but I think that made things worse.

I looked at Mary; her expression was showing pure and utter disgust. Her face was deathly white and she looked close to fainting. I saw her start to gag and then she suddenly turned and left.

I heard her run to the bathroom where she proceeded to throw up. We got dressed quickly and made our way to the car. Even as we crept down the stairs we could hear Mary retching in the bathroom. I drove Emily home. We were both pretty shaken and wondered what Mary would do after catching us.

I arrived home about a half hour later. The house was quite with no lights on so I made my way to bed. The next morning I was woken by the sounds of conversation. I immediately recognised the voice of my mother in law speaking to Mary. I guessed by now that they had arrived a day early.

They had a key and must have let themselves in the previous night and went straight to bed in the guest room. Mary must have been woken by the noise of us having sex and came in to check things out.

I showered and eventually made my way down to join them. My mother in law was her usual cheery self so I guessed that Mary hadn’t told her anything. Mary herself was like a different person, where as normally, she would be chatty and outgoing, now she was withdrawn and sullen. Her body language screamed “stay away from kozyatağı escort me you sick fuck”. She barely spoke to me during breakfast and I’m sure my MIL was suspicious.

After breakfast, I drove them to the hospital for a visit. The visit was pretty uncomfortable so I made an excuse and left. When I returned later, my wife was alone.

She told me that Mary wasn’t feeling well so they had returned home early, deciding not to stay the second night. My wife was pretty pissed at them for leaving early and blamed it on Mary saying she was jealous because she had been trying without success to have kids herself.

I stayed at the hospital until she fell asleep and then left to call Emily. I picked Emily up on my way home. My wife would be home the following day so we wanted to make the most of the night. This time we checked all the rooms and put a lock on the front door before we hit the bed.

Once we settled down we spoke about what had happened.Emily said that she found getting caught was extremely erotic and it made her really horny just thinking about it. She said that at first, when she had seen Mary she had almost had a heart attack.

She had felt extremely embarrassed to be caught naked on her sister’s bed.But after I dropped her home, she began to relax. She thought back to what had just happened and she felt herself getting wet. She said the memory of Mary standing there, watching her being fucked was a massive turn on.

She had gone straight to bed (still wearing my wife’s undies) and masturbated herself to sleep while remembering how she had just orgasmed in front of my wife’s sister.

That night the sex was incredible as we both gorged ourselves on each others bodies along with the memory of my sister in law watching us.

This incident happened a few years ago. As far as I know Mary has never told anyone in the family. She is still quite sullen in my presence and we rarely speak. This isn’t an issue for me as we live in different counties so rarely see each other. It isn’t the only time that I was almost caught cheating but it is one of the more memorable.

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Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
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Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
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The following story is true. It contains nothing unusual. Nothing that hasn’t happened a million times to a million people. This story’s not really mine, and I will give credit where credit is due. It’s the story of a teenager jerkin’ off. That’s about it.

My family moved around a lot. Now once upon a time, we lived in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan. Despite popular myth, Saskatoon’s not a bad town. Though, not a great town for a teenage kid with nothing but Home Schooling and a mountain bike.

Yes, fine, I was home-schooled. And I do regret it’s rendered me socially maladjusted, but that comes with a satisfaction that only the socially maladjusted can know.

Now, this story begins with my older brother.

Upon cleaning his room one day, my mother discovered his stash of porno magazines. She demanded he throw them out, but throw them out he did not. Oh, he threw out ten or so, just so as not to raise suspicion. The rest he tucked neatly under the front steps – a huge hollow box-like stair of concrete.

I learned none of this, until I noticed a shiny cover jutting from under the porch one day. I got down on my hands and knees and dug away at the gravel until I could pull it out.

Gallery magazine.

My gut tightened – I felt sick with nerves. I tucked it under my pants and pulled my shirt over top, and dashed through the front door and up into…

Hey, we all know where this story goes. The bathroom had a lock.

Now I must admit, I was quite enchanted with the sight of a woman’s full-fledged features for the first time. I recall my favorite spread; a redhead who I swear was natural. Looked like a girl-next-door, posing against one of those ancient Chevy trucks. Her pale skin glowing before the chrome and candy-apple shine. Wet marks on the leather seats.

But this story’s not about her, either. This story is about the first sex story I ever read. I can’t take credit for it. It’s not even a story – supposedly, it’s true. It’s one of those letters people send in to stroke mags.

I can’t remember any names. Or the title. But phrases. Images, are burned in my memory. I’ll try anadolu yakası escort to recreate it here for you now, as best I can. The letter was first-person, but I’ll give you third;

Jimmy. Jimmy’s a young lad of eighteen years, living in a small town in the American Midwest in the late fifties. He wears wool pants and swell checkered shirts. He’s had a girlfriend or two, but never gotten further than first base.

Now that’s not to say Jimmy’s some loser. He’s any guy just like you or me or your brother or your dad. He just hasn’t been laid. He’s on the football team – though he’s just the guy who kicks the ball. And it’s such a small town, no one really gives a shit about the sports anyway.

So back to Jimmy. Now Jimmy was hoping to cruise off with his friends for the summer between his graduation from high school and induction into college. But Jimmy’s mother wasn’t havin’ it. Before he even got to throw his grad cap, she’d arranged a nice little job with the lady down the street – we’ll call her Mrs. Robinson. He’d be mowing her lawn, doing odd jobs for her for the rest of the summer.

(cough cough)

So off Jimmy goes to Mrs. Robinson’s. Here’s to you, Mrs. Robinson. Jesus loves you more than you will know / whoah whoah whoah / whoah whoah whoah.

When he arrives, she meets him at the door in a t-shirt and sweat pants. He swears that even through that baggy shirt, he can see her nipples. Her breasts are so full, her hips so curvy, he starts a sweat just following her through the house as she pointed to this and that, explaining his duties.

Soon he was indeed working his ass off, but staring at her the entire time. He’d be vacuuming, making sure she didn’t see the way his less-than-docile hardon was nearly succeeding in busting its way through his jeans.

It became apparent that she had no interest in him, and he contents himself with jerking off at night to the etched-and-burned glances of her in her swimsuit, sunbathing. Her in her robe. Her smiling at him, while his dick screamed at him. Throbbing so hard atalar escort it hurt.

One day, Mrs. Robinson is sunbathing in the backyard. As he gathers some tools for the garden in the garage, he suddenly finds that in this dark and secluded place that he has the ideal location to ‘peep’ on her, as he called it, without her knowledge through a small window.

He goes on to explain in great detail that she wasn’t what you’d call beautiful, but she was very, very sexy. Her body, apparently, was the sort that Marilyn Monroe might have wished to possess. And as she laid back in that bikini, her breasts overflowing the flimsy top, he shoved his cutoffs down and started stroking his cock. Spitting on the head, he rubbed and stroked and stared at her body. She wasn’t what you’d call beautiful, but she had become his version of perfect.

Trying to make it last as long as possible, he takes twenty minutes or so. He goes fast sometimes, so his hand becomes a blur. Sometimes he just strokes the shaft with two fingers. He has eight different techniques or so, but he never moves his eyes from her. From her hips. Curvy legs. Thick, dark hair. Full lips. And he wants her so goddamn bad. He’s aching for it.

Stroking, stroking. Teasing himself. But he takes twenty minutes or so, and before he squirts she leaves the backyard and goes into the house.

He waits, patiently. Sweating in the dark, his cutoffs and tightie whities at his ankles, he nervously strokes his cock and waits for her to come back. He won’t take any more chances, he decides. When he comes back he’ll just get off and be done with it.

Click – the garage lights turn on and he spins in time to see her in a terrycloth robe. And he spins fast enough to trip on his cutoffs and tightie whities, and fall flat on his rock-hard cock.

“Just what are you doing?” she demands as he manages to get to his feet. He reaches for his cutoffs, but “Never mind those,” she tells him. “On second thought, it’s obvious that you were peeking at me and playing with yourself, is that right?”

“Y-yes’m,” ataşehir escort is all he can say. He looks at him strangely.

“Don’t you have a girlfriend to do it to?” she asks. He shakes his head. “You mean you’ve never had that thing in a girl at all?” He shakes his head.

“Oh,” she says. “Your prick looks so nice and hard, and it is a little bigger than my husband’s. I’d love to let you stick it in me, but I’m married.”

She lets the robe fall open a bit. Enough to see she’s not wearing anything underneath.

“Alright,” she says. “Touch it.” And now, propping herself up on the dryer, she says; “Go ahead – fuck your fist while you look at me.”

And what can Jimmy do, but keep on jerking his dick in front of curvy Mrs. Robinson? Soon, she’s spread her legs, and he can see the pearls of moisture under the thick curls of dark hair.

She asks him how she compares to girls his age. He says he hasn’t seen many of them naked, but she’s the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.

She tells him to come closer, and spreads her legs.

Gripping his cock, she strokes it. This guy’s in Heaven. And now she works it through her pussy hair, making it slick with her juices. And this guy’s bouncing between cloud Nine and Thirteen.

“Oh,” she’s mewing. She pushes it against the flat of her pelvic bone. Her skin is so hot. “Oh,” she says, rubbing it against her belly. “Look how far in me it would go!”

His head is spinning. He barely knows what the fuck is going on, but when she tells him to take his cock and stroke her pussy with it, he does.

And soon she’s moaning, and squirming against him.

“Oh Jimmy,” she says, “Your prick feels so good rubbing my pussy, but let me show you where it ought to be.” And then she grabs him with her ankles and pulls him in. She’s so hot and wet that he begins to come practically on contact, and she’s not helping; “Fuck me, Jimmy! Fuck my pussy! Your prick’s so hard! Fuck me!” And so within three thrusts or so he’s yelling and coming and squirting all over the place. But Mrs. Robinson’s not done – she keeps on humping him until she lets out a shriek, and falls back limp.

Then she tells him to get dressed and return to his work, and threatens him storely to never tell on her. He promised not to, and swears he never did until he wrote the letter.

I didn’t write that story, and looking back now it is pretty cliché. But I guess you never forget your first stroke story. Just thought I’d share mine.

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“Can you give me a ride home?” Sheila asked.

“Sure,” I replied. Trying to hide the surprise in my voice.

“Brian is in hiding,” she added.

Sheila was a girl I had dated for a couple of months in the fall. The relationship had ended after Thanksgiving and now I was home on winter break from my sophomore year of college. Sheila was a year younger and at one of the local colleges. A week earlier her older brother Brian had been fired from the store all three of worked at.

An hour later, Sheila and I finished our shift at the store, and headed out into the cold to get into my car. An early 70’s Dodge Dart, pretty typical car for a college kid in the late 80’s. At least in my neighborhood.

It was about a 20 minute drive to the south side town where her school was at. We talked some, but it was mostly her expressing frustration about her brother and now people asking about his getting fired.

It was never really clear to me why the relationship ended. I wasn’t broken up about it ending, but it seemed to just fall off a cliff. Things were going pretty good. She was planning to come up and visit after Thanksgiving. When we returned from that break things were different though. She canceled the trip and shortly after that it was clear we were through.

I thought maybe she would open up about what happened, but she didn’t. Was there someone else? We were both pretty focused on our studies, I had kind of chalked it up to neither one of us really having anytime for a relationship.

When we got to her dorm I pulled into a parking place so we could continue talking. The discussion turned towards her roommates, four women the same age. Two of them she liked, one she tolerated, but the other got under her skin.

My school gave us an entire month off for winter break, but Sheila’s only a couple of weeks. They had just started back, and already she was upset with this fourth roommate, Rachel. Heading into their winter break, there were two virgins in her apartment, Sheila and Rachel. But after winter break, there was only one, Sheila.

“Can you believe it?” Sheila said as she waved her hands. “Rachel fucked some guy she didn’t even know.”

“He was giving her a ride home for break, they got to talking about sex and then they pulled over in a rest stop and fucked.”

“After the last week, that was the last thing I needed to hear. God, I am the only virgin in the apartment now.”

Sheila ranted a little longer, and then she had it all out. The topic turned to me and when I was headed back to school. She decided she had better head in before the dorm security got suspicious of us being parked for that length of time and headed out to inspect.

As she opened the door to get out I said with a coy smile, “You know, I am home for another week and half if you want to do something about your problem.”

Sheila didn’t seem to be in a joking mode though. She responded with a “Yeah, I’ll consider it,” and shut the heavy door firmly. It didn’t sound to me as if she would though.

About a week later, Sheila and I worked a shift together. At some point during the evening she caught me alone in one of the aisles and said, “My roommates are going home for the weekend, do you want to come over for dinner?”

I was a little surprised by the invite, but thought maybe she just needed someone to talk to. I told her I would be over.

Just before she walked away she leaned in and quietly said, “I will bring the condoms.”

I am sure my jaw dropped in the surprise. Sheila bounced away and looked back to give me a smile. Not at all what I was expecting, but I was excited she made that decision. I couldn’t wait for Friday night.

I showed up at Sheila’s dorm around seven, she came down and met me in lobby to sign me with security. We took the stairs to the second floor where her apartment was located.

The dorms were a little different from what I was used to. These were really apartments, with a kitchen, living room, two large bedrooms, two bathrooms and even a laundry room. They also had house parents which stopped by once a week to check on things and make sure they were keeping it up.

Early when we were dating one of Sheila’s roommates suggested to the house parents that the couch should be cleaned after Sheila and I had spent some time alone on it the previous weekend. Sheila told me later that while she was embarrassed by it, she also liked that it made her feel more grown-up.

Sheila cooked us dinner. Well, kind of. It was mac and cheese. Evidently this was all she knew how to cook because it was not the first time she had served this to me. But it was fun and we had a good time talking over the meal. There was some nervous energy, or maybe more just the excitement of what was to come. Neither of us seemed stressed, and there was no mention of why I was really there that night.

After eating, Sheila suggested we watch a movie. She put the tape into the player and we settled into the couch. We were both a little üsküdar escort tentative at first, there was separation between us.

Eventually I slid over and put my arm around her, and that seemed to break the ice. She curled up to me, and we sat there in silence as we watched the movie.

A little over halfway through Sheila got up and walked down the hall to the bathroom. When she returned a few minutes later, she flipped off the remaining lights in the living room. She walked over to the couch and stopped and stood before me. For a long pause she did nothing. Then biting her lower lip, she pushed on my shoulder, as if telling me to lay back on the couch.

I did as instructed and reclined back on the couch, one leg up and the other foot still on the floor. Sheila came closer and brought one leg on to the couch so that she was now straddling me. She bent down, her face approaching mine, and for the first time in several weeks we kissed.

We laid like this for quite a while. Kissing, running fingers through each others hair, and me groping her ass through her jeans. It wasn’t passionate, in a lot of ways those feelings had passed. At least the intensity had. But it was fun, and surprisingly comfortable. Just two friends sharing an intimate moment.

I was hesitant to push her too soon. I wanted to make sure this was on her terms. Eventually Sheila pushed herself up off of me, straddling me upright. She staid in that position for several seconds and stared at me as if contemplating something. Then she smiled, grabbed the bottom of her sweater and pulled it over her head.

I am sure I was smiling at this. She had great tits. Definitely above average in size, but they were firm and pert as if they were much smaller. She reached behind her back and unfastened her bra. She slowly unveiled her bare breasts as she lowered the bra from her shoulders, tossing it aside with the sweater.

I reached up to take those incredible tits in my hands. They were firm, but pliable, and were a noticeable weight in my hands.

Sheila smiled, her hands by her sides as I massaged her breasts. Periodically I would focus on her nipples, brown with small aerolae. As I rolled them between my thumbs and forefingers, her eyes would close and I could hear her breathing change.

At this point I could feel myself starting to get hard, and thought I could sense Sheila starting to grind against me. Was she ready to take it the next step?

“Do you want to continue this in the bedroom?” I asked, continuing to pinch her nipples.

She opened her eyes, looked down at me and responded with a “Yes.”

I reluctantly removed my hands from her luscious tits. Using the back of the couch she pushed herself up off of me and stood by the side of the couch. I sat up, then leaned forwarded and kissed her bare stomach. My hands ran up and down the back of her jean covered thighs. Her fingers were in my hair, holding my head as I explored her stomach with my mouth and tongue.

She had had enough though. “Come on, let’s go,” she said, backing up and reaching out for my hand. I took her hand and followed her down the hall to the bedroom she shared with two other roommates.

We entered the room and Sheila turned on an overhead light before walking over to turn on a desk lamp.

She turned around and said, “I am already half naked. Your turn.”

How could I argue. I pulled off my shirt walked over towards her and laid the shirt over the back of a desk chair.

“Would you like to help me with these?” I asked, pulling on the button fly of my jeans.

“Gladly,” smiling as she responded and moved towards me.

Sheila stood in front of me, grabbed the waist of my jeans with both hands and pushed them down to just above my knees. She studied the bulge in my boxers, then looked up and smiled again.

She palmed my crouch and said, “Let’s get this thing out.” Then she knelt in front of me.

I stood there as she pulled the jeans down to where I could step out of them. She reached up for the boxers then and followed the same process.

I wasn’t fully erect yet, but was well on my way. Shelia reached out, took my shaft in her hand and tentatively stroked it. The moment of pleasure was brief, and she stood up and backed away from me.

Sheila reached for the button of her own jeans, and freed herself from them. She now stood in front of me with only a pair of pink cotton panties. At first, she seemed nervous about removing them. After a pause she lowered them and placed them on the back of a chair with her jeans.

We stood there staring at each for a minute, not really sure what to do or say. Shelia then walked over to her bed, ducked under the bunk and laid on her side with her back to the wall. I had a nice view of her ass as she crawled in.

Once she was settled I crawled in and joined her. I leaned in and kissed her. My hand was on her hip, and this was my first feel of her skin şerifali escort below the waist.

She pulled away from the kiss, reached under the pillow and pulled out a string of three condoms. She ripped one package off from the string, handed it to me and tossed the other two onto a desk near the bed.

I was surprised, but I assumed we must be doing this right now then. I rolled on to my back, ripped open the foil and tossed it aside. Studying the condom, I found the right side and placed it over the tip of my cock. Sheila watched as I unrolled it down the length of my shaft.

I rolled back on my side and Sheila slid over to lay on her back. Her legs spread, quickly I was over the top of her on my hands and knees. I lowered myself down on to her, and reached down for my cock. I rubbed it against her pussy, spreading her wetness, and searching for the opening.

I lodged the tip of my cock inside of her. I couldn’t see her face, but by her sounds I could tell there was some discomfort. I paused, giving her a chance to relax a little. Evidently none was needed though. I quickly felt her hand on my ass pulling me deeper into her.

She was very tight, like she was squeezing me with her hand. Once my entire length was inside of her, I could feel her finger nails digging into my butt cheeks. I decided to be still until she relaxed a little more. After a few moments she extracted her nails from me, and I began to slowly thrust into her.

Her sounds expressed more pleasure as she brought her legs up towards her chest. I was plunging deeper into her, her hips moving up to meet my thrusts. I could feel the heels of her feet on the back of my thighs and her hands in my hair. My thrusts became quicker, going at whatever speed I desired. She was simply along for the ride at this point.

I could feel cum in my balls starting to rise up. Sheila’s moans of pleasure spurred me to a faster pace. No more drawing it out, I needed to cum soon. I brought myself up to a position where I could thrust even deeper. From her quick shout it was obvious Sheila was caught by surprise as my cock was buried to the hilt inside of her. Within thirty seconds, I was done. My pace slowed, and I could feel my cum filling the end of the condom as my cock twitched inside of her.

My body became still as I tried to catch my breath and recover from the release of energy I had just experienced. I tried to support my weight above her, and could hear her heavy breathing as she too tried to recover. Slowly I felt her legs release their grip on me and until they came to rest back on the bed.

I slowly extracted myself from her. Kneeling between her legs, and trying not hit my head on the bunk above, I looked her in the eye.

“You ok?” I ask.

“Sore,” Sheila responded, “but good. God you are not small!” She smiled as she said this.

I exited the bed and stood by the side. Sheila’s eyes were glued to my still fairly erect cock, and the tip of the condom that was still swollen with cum. I grabbed the base of the condom, pushed all the cum to the tip with my other hand. The reservoir filled with the white fluid and expanded even more.

“Is that a lot?” Sheila asked.

“It is for me,” I responded.

The look on her face seemed to express great satisfaction in a well accomplished task. I slid the condom off and then walked to the bathroom as disposed of it.

When I returned to the room, Sheila was lying on her back with eyes closed. Ahand on a breast, fingers tweaking the nipple.

I laid down in bed beside her.

“Let’s see if I can take away some of that soreness,” I said.

I placed hand in between her legs and began to gently rub her mound and labia. They were still wet and swollen and easy to manipulate. Sheila responded quickly with moans of pleasure. I avoided penetrating her to prevent causing any more discomfort. After a few minutes I switched to a single finger and began to focus on her clit.

She acted surprised at first, I couldn’t tell if that was really the case, or if she was simply over sensitive. I circled her clit with my finger, then quickly slid it down the length of her wet lips, and then returned to the clit. Each time I removed my finger from her clit, she let out a quick gasp of air.

After a few more minutes I decided it was time to try and finish her off. I stayed focused on her clit, and she responded with a loud exclamation as she bucked her hips in the air. I kept my finger on her clit as her hips began to twitch, and unintelligible noises came from her.

Sheila’s orgasm finally subsided and she grabbed me around the back of my neck and pulled me in for a crushing kiss. Her tongue slipped into my mouth and probed for mine.

Finally she relaxed and I was released from her grip and allowed to lay back down on the bed. We laid there naked and talking. Surprisingly it was extremely comfortable. Really no talk of what we had just done. Just discussion of school, new experiences that awaited us, and people we worked with.

There was some occasional touching and caressing. It wasn’t sexual though, at least at first, just two people enjoying the nakedness of each other. I began to lightly run my finger tips down the back of her ass and thigh and this must have ignited something in her again.

Sheila pushed me onto my back and grabbed my cock. She leaned over and kissed me as she she stroked me.

“Are you fully recovered?”, she asked.

“Yes,” I replied.

“Can I get on top?”, she asked.

“Of course,” I replied, smiling now.

I watched Sheila as she got up out of bed and walked over to her desk again. She grabbed the pair of condoms and separated the packages with an audible rip. She smiled and wiggled the square package at me as she walked back to the bed.

“Can I put it on you?” Sheila asked as she stood at the side of bed.

I nodded my approval.

She sat down on the edge of the bed and started stroking my cock again. For the next two minutes she didn’t say a word. Just slowly stroked it as if she were studying its shape and texture. Coming out of her thoughts, she grabbed the condom again and tore open the package. Pulling the latex disk from its wrapping she studied it for a moment.

“Is there right way?” she asked.

“Yes, the side where you can see it rolled up faces up,” I responded.

“Ah, yes!”

Taking my shaft in one hand, Sheila placed the condom on top of the head and pushed down. At first, there was a little difficulty unrolling it. Once it was past the ridge of the head, she easily unrolled it the rest of the way.

Once the condom was on, Sheila quickly crawled onto the bed and straddled me. She couldn’t quite sit straight up because of the upper bunk bed, so she leaned over with her hands pressed against my chest. She lowered her hips onto me, and slowly rocked back and forth. I could sense she was already very excited by how easily the cleft of her sex glided over the length of my shaft.

I reached up and cupped one of her breasts in my hand. It was firm, and I could feel the stiff nipple in the palm of my hand as my fingers lightly stroked the soft flesh. I watched her face as I played with her breast and she continued to slowly grind away on my shaft. Her eyes were closed, her breathing was heavy and mouth partially open. Her face tensing up periodically. I tugged at her nipple as I pinched between two of my knuckles, and she let out a groan.

Grinding against my cock didn’t seem to be enough for her. Sheila lifted up off of me, and reached between her legs to grab my cock. I could feel her rubbing it against her sex, searching for her opening with the head. Finally she found it lowered herself onto me. She took it slow, and appeared to wince a couple of times. When she had taken my entire length, she relaxed and started to slowly move her hips.

Sheila opened her eyes and smiled, “You feel great.”

“You feel pretty great yourself,” I responded.

She was sliding up and down my length and it felt as if she was tugging on me as she did it. After a few times she would stop and grind her clit against me for a few seconds and then repeat the process. I would raise up my hips to meet her some of the time, but was careful to not spoil her fun.

Sheila continued this process for probably close to ten minutes. While she did, I enjoyed the feel of her skin, her breasts, her ass. It was all mine to experience.

Eventually she stopped sliding up and down my cock and resorted to just grinding away at me. Her rhythm picked up speed, and I grabbed hold of her hips, helping her with the motion. Faster and faster she gyrated on my cock, exclamations of pleasure coming from her.

And then suddenly, she collapsed onto my chest. Her insides still tugging slowly at my cock, but much slower now.

She kissed me, “Thank you.”

I just smiled. My fingers running down her back, over her ass, and then back up towards her neck. She extracted my cock from her tight puss, and rolled over on to her side facing me. She stared and smiled at me. I really wanted to crawl on top of her again, but I wasn’t sure what she was thinking.

“Get out of bed,” she instructed.

I paused, not quite sure what to say, “What?” is all that came out.

“Get up and stand by the bed,” she said again.

Reluctantly I slid my legs over the edge of the bed and then sat up. I turned back, hoping she would change her mind and invite me to stay. She just smiled, cocking her head as if she was saying to keep going.

I stood up, careful not to hit my head on the upper bunk, and turned around so that I was facing the bed again. The top of the upper bunk’s mattress was about even with my chin. I stood back far enough so I could still see into the lower bunk. My arms out in front of me, supporting myself against the upper bunk’s frame.

Sheila laid there for another moment, then slid her legs around to the edge of the bed. When she was done, she was sitting on the edge the bed, legs straddling mine, and my cock pointed right in her face.

She took my cock in her hand, studying the underside as she slowly stroked it and considering how to remove the condom.

“Just roll it off,” I stated.

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The Case of the Executed Evangelist, Ch. 01

by TheWifeWatchman

The order of my stories to read is:

Todd & Melina series, Interludes 1-5, Sperm Wars series, Russian Roulette series, Case of the Murdered Lovers series, Case of the Murdered Chessplayer series.

Case of the Executed Evangelist series.

Feedback and constructive criticism is very much appreciated, and I encourage feedback for ideas.

This story contains graphic scenes, language and actions that might be extremely offensive to some people. These scenes, words and actions are used only for the literary purposes of this story. The author does not condone murder, racial language, violence, rape or violence against women, and any depictions of any of these in this story should not be construed as acceptance of the above.

There is a lot of background information mixed in with the hot sex. Please bear with it, as the information is important to this story as well as upcoming stories. Thanks in advance.

Also, I have received private comments that have been very complimentary of my writings. I want those commenters to know that I am deeply grateful for the kind remarks and positive feedback! – WW.

Part 1 – Prologue

The man grunted as he thrust into the young woman beneath him, fucking her with raw power. Sweat trickled off his back and her legs as they copulated with deep intensity.

“Oh Jonas!” the eighteen year old beauty sighed, running her hands through the man’s thick black hair as he pumped his cock into her virgin-tight cunt with merciless abandon, his thrusts getting harder and faster as he neared his climax. Even in the throes of lusty sex, he made sure to think of the sinful actions he was performing, acts of defiance of the spectacle that he had become in the eyes of the world.

The Reverend Jonas Oldeeds was considered the Nation’s top tele-evangelist and seen by some as a near saint. But the Public did not know the man’s truly dark side. He always enjoyed seducing young girls, girls that looked at him with eyes full of worship, taking advantage of their trust and love to bed them. He had popped many sweet young cherries in his years as a Messenger of the Lord God. And that was just the tip of the iceberg. The thoughts of his deeds and his true nature gave him a surge of sexual pleasure as he pounded his meat into the teen babe rutting beneath him.

Unknown to the young blonde girl, the physically fit tele-evangelist’s gorgeous wife Vicki was secretly watching their intense coupling, fingering her sopping wet pussy as she enjoyed the site of her husband’s cock sliding into the girl’s tight cunt, seeing his balls swinging and thudding against the girl’s ass as he fucked her in sinful adultery.

The beautiful blonde wife didn’t feel jealous; indeed, she knew she’d be getting plenty of young college cock during the upcoming visit to the University and the hell hole of a town next to it. She also was thinking of her public image, of the sweet, loving wife totally devoted to her loving, incorruptible husband. The deeply sinful actions she and her husband enjoyed committing gave her a deep sexual thrill. Her reverie was broken by the harsh rasps of her husband’s voice as he fucked the girl beneath him.

“Oh baby, do you feel it? Do you feel the Lord’s spirit filling you as we make love? Do you feel the Lord’s power flowing through you?” Oldeeds grunted, his voice in rhythm with his powerful, hungry thrusts.

“Oh yes… oh yes, Jonas! Oh YES!” the girl cried out as another orgasm exploded inside her. Her clamping cunt was too much for Oldeeds. He drove his meat as deep as he could into her teen pussy and began pumping his load against her cervix.

“Oh yes, take it! Take the Lord’s offering into your sweet body!” Oldeeds gasped as the pleasure of his climax flooded up his back and through his whole body…

————————–

The girl had left some time ago, after Jonas Oldeeds had cuddled with her for long minutes, telling her that their mating had been the Lord’s will. He was always amused at how these sweet young girls believed every word of it, that they would fuck like whores on his cock thinking they were feeling the blessings of God.

“So, was she as good as the last one?” Oldeeds heard his wife say, her voice a languid drawl, as he dried off after his shower and entered the bedroom of their luxurious home.

“She was okay.” Oldeeds replied. “Like most of those young sluts.” He came up to his wife and slid his arms around her waist. “Nothing compared to you, though, baby.”

“Mmmm, I’ll bet.” the blonde replied as she shared kisses with her immensely wealthy husband. “So, why are we going to this hell hole of a town for a Revival for a few old ladies and a school Protestant student group?”

“Oh, there’ll be tens of thousands at the football stadium service the last night of our trip, giving us generous donations.” Oldeeds replied. “But it’ll be good publicity to do the small appearance, too. And I’ve got some business in that Town I haramidere escort need to get done. Serious business, baby. Our little empire might depend on it.”

“That important, huh?” Vicki Oldeeds said. “I guess I’ll find a couple of college studs while you’re preaching. I heard that benefactor of yours, the one that died, Douglass something-or-other, has a grandson at that school who has a really big cock.”

“I heard that too.” Oldeeds said. “And that reminds me, we’ve got to keep Douglass’s son Don very close during this trip. His successes are starting to stir up talk in our ‘professional’ circles. Maybe you can… distract Don with your feminine charms?”

“Sure, baby.” she replied, not really eager for the task, but willing to do whatever it took to help her husband’s cause: their personal enrichment.

A thought occurred to her: “What about Don’s sister, Elizabeth? Think you can find her and fuck her? Like you were fucking her under her daddy’s nose all those years?”

“Baby, that’s past history.” Oldeeds said, maneuvering his wife towards the bed. “Let’s just forget about the past and create some new sex memories…” Their kisses deepened as Oldeeds began removing his wife’s clothing from her smoking hot body…

Part 2 – Promotion

“Congratulations!” the chief said as he handed me some papers in one of the small Lieutenant offices across the hall from MCD at six o’clock in the morning. “You are now officially the Supervisor of the Major Crimes Department.”

It was actually a Lieutenant’s position, and the Supervisor rank simply allowed me to fill the position with some semblance of authority. Tanya Perlman, also a Supervisor and too young to officially be a Lieutenant, had one of the other offices. We officially did not yet have any Lieutenants in the Detectives division.

“Thank you, sir.” I said. “I’m still in charge of I.T., also?”

“Yes, for now at least. We’re close on the Lieutenant bar for MCD, though.” the Chief added. “Councilman Lewis is willing to take some bait offers. Adams is still against you, but she’s nothing without help.”

Councilman Reginald B. F. Lewis was a black man and a skilled politician who represented the mostly black areas of Town. He was sincerely concerned for the people of the district he represented, especially when it came to racial relations. Councilwoman Malinda Adams was virulent in her politics, and made her disdain for “peace officers”, as she called the Police, well known.

“Uh oh, what’s the bait?” I said, knowing. The Chief cut me no slack.

“Precincts, of course.” Chief Griswold said, his voice a growl. I groaned, having put forth many a debate point for why this Town and County did not need police precincts, and that we did not need our Police Force divided. But Councilman Lewis did make some good points that a precinct primarily in his district and those around it would be helpful in relationships between blacks and police. Malinda Adams simply wanted to divide the Force and make it hard for us.

Ironically, it was Captain Harold Malone, who held considerable sway among some Council members, who was most stridently against precincts. I knew of course that Malone simply didn’t want to do anything helpful for blacks or racial relations. He also wanted to keep his concentration of power within one Police station. And I also knew that he was working to force me under his control.

Captain Malone was technically over all Detectives. But when I had taken the job with the police, the “Powers That Be”, the powerful people that had brought me in, had arranged that I would pretty much answer directly to the Chief, since the chain-of-command over I.T. was unclear, and since Malone pretty much paid attention only to Vice, leaving MCD somewhat rudderless. I had filled that void in MCD, but it was now chafing Malone. And Chief Griswold was putting me into a Lieutenant office just to chafe Malone even more.

“Don’t worry, Don.” the Chief said, his eyes twinkling a little bit and his big mustache quivering even as his voice maintained the growl. “Lewis thinks you’re great, and he knows you’re no friend of Malone. He just wants to talk about precincts in exchange for supporting your early promotion. It’s all politics, and Lewis is good at politics.”

Then the Chief brought up his next subject. “Keep thinking about more staffing for the MCD Department. Get with Captain Forsyth.” I understood what he meant: with Tanya Perlman promoted already, and with my desire to also promote Cindy Ross as well as to get Hugh Hewitt leading a S.W.A.T. team, I knew we needed to bring in some more Detectives, either by promotion or hiring from the outside.

Douglas Forsyth was a longtime veteran of the Town Police Force, having served most of it in Personnel and Records, of which he was now Captain. He had brown hair and a somewhat sour disposition. Though seemingly fit enough and not fat, my observation of him was that one day he was going to have a massive heart attack. içerenköy escort

I also didn’t like him: he aspired to the Chief’s office, was extremely political and would throw anyone under a bus to advance his own ambitions, and he would be strongly considered for Chief of Police when Chief Griswold retired… but in my opinion he had no “connection” with the men and women, the officers of the Police Force, and never tried to make such connections nor understanding of what police officers deal with on a daily basis. One consequence of his political games: he was called “Captain Brown Nose” behind his back.

It did not take long to move my few personal items from the basement IT office to the new one. I told Myron Milton to make as much use as he could of my old office, a hint that he needed to consider the I.T. Supervisor job. Once installed, I sat down in my new office, wondering just why a Lieutenant’s office was so much smaller than my old one. At least I had a window, a small one, but a window nonetheless.

Looking out the window, I saw that the sun was just rising on a beautiful late Spring/early Summer Monday. School had let out for the semester the week before. Things were settling down quite nicely, except for my impending divorce, of course.

Even that was going as well as could be expected, with no contesting of property divisions, and my lovely lawyer Jeanine Olivet had told me that it might be only a matter of days before it was finalized. I had not seen Melina in some days, but Laura had more than filled that void in my life. I already was making payments at the jewelry store for the engagement ring I’d picked out for Laura.

I reached for the morning papers. The Town paper headline immediately caught my full attention. It said that the Reverend Jonas Oldeeds was coming to Town in two weeks to lead a “Spiritual Revival”. That such a world-renowned tele-evangelist as Oldeeds was coming to our relatively small Town for such a relatively small event seemed very out of the ordinary to me. After a moment of thought, I reached for the phone and called Laura’s office. She was already there.

“Good morning, darling.” she said huskily and sweetly, perhaps thinking this would be a flirtatious personal call.

“Good morning, Professor.” I said, letting her know that this wasn’t ordinary. I could almost feel her coming to rapt attention on the other side of the line. “I need to ask you a rather professional question: Are you or your department doing anything in particular two weeks from now?”

“Uhh… why yes, we are.” Laura replied. “Our series of symposiums is going to be here at the University…. why? Is there some kind of threat to the symposium?” Laura knew that some religious-based groups did not like the sexual research that she was doing, nor the seminars that were being held.

There had been no trouble in San Francisco, but the one at the University of Georgia had been marred by protests from religious groups, and the recent one scheduled for Salt Lake City at the University of Utah had been cancelled due to strong protests within the school and the city. Laura told me that she had never understood why they’d tried to schedule a symposium on sexual subjects in heavily-Mormon Utah, and was glad that one had been moved to Las Vegas: it had been much more fun during the evenings.

“Check the morning paper.” I said in reply. Laura said she’d call me back. In the meantime, I read an online news service usually read only by police, and paid attention to the ongoing investigation of the strange murder of the wealthy gambling magnate and Korean national Soo-Yung Kim in Las Vegas. The FBI had been called in, and could not add any explanation to how the man was shot dead with one well-placed bullet to the head while standing on the balcony of a penthouse during a party.

The nearest tall building was about 800 yards away and the place Kim was shot was at a bad angle to it. That nearest building, the hotel where Laura and Melina were staying during the symposium that same weekend, was very secured. Even Hugh Hewitt, who said that only someone as well-trained as an Army sniper could’ve made that shot, was at a loss to explain how a military sniper rifle could’ve been sneaked into the building and extracted without getting caught.

And then there was the mysterious death of Professor Al-Saheem in Athens, Georgia. An autopsy had come out showing no evidence of poisoning, which had been the first thought of the authorities there. He was a guest speaker at Laura’s symposium there, discussing Middle Eastern sexual habits and mores. I had drily remarked to Laura that his speech would be very short considering Islamic suppressions of women there.

Professor Al-Saheem had collapsed at the dinner banquet the last evening of the three-day seminar, and died at the hospital the next day. I’d heard the name of Professor Al-Saheem before; he’d caught some flak protesting the University of Georgia’s mascot, which was a bulldog. innovia escort

Apparently Islamists don’t like dogs very much… and certainly UGA fans did not like their beloved mascot being besmirched. I thought to myself that I personally would rather face an entire army of Islamist terrorists than Georgia students and alumni angry at the insult to their mascot.

Still, something about these murders was bothering me… and I also wondered why I was noticing them in the first place. I had more than enough to deal with right here in this good ol’ Town. And as if on cue, the phone rang.

“I see it.” Laura said when I answered the phone. “Your friend Jonas Oldeeds is coming to town. Some coincidence, huh?”

?”My friend? I don’t think so.” I said, knowing Laura was teasing me, if a bit too roughly. “But you’re right, it’s not a coincidence.”

—————————–

“How’s the new office?” I heard that sweet but mischievous voice say.

It was Tanya Perlman. It was 9:00pm and she was checking in on me as she left her office right across the way from mine.

“Just fine.” I said, glancing up at her, then doing a double take. “Wow, you look fine tonight. What’s the occasion?” Tanya was wearing a tight, form-fitting black mock turtleneck blouse that really outlined her big, high-riding breasts and her tight body, a gray skirt that matched the gray jacket she had draped over her arm, no stockings and black pumps… much higher heels that she normally wore.

“Well…” Tanya said, entering the room…. and locking the door. As she approached my desk she said “I want to be the first woman to help you break in your new office… by fucking your brains out.” She came around the side of the desk and stood between it and myself. Sitting down, I was inches from her torso… and her cunt, barely concealed by the skirt.

“Well, I think I can take you up on that offer.” I said, standing up as Tanya perched her cute ass on the desk. “And as hot as you look,” I said, sliding my arms around her waist and giving her mouth a deep, hard kiss, “I can’t think of anyone I’d rather break in this office with, right now.”

Our kissed deepened as Tanya’s hands nimbly went for the zipper of my pants, opening them and fishing out my cock as it began to lengthen and harden. I was kissing her mouth and nuzzling her neck, enjoying the taste and smell of the lovely woman as our sexual temperatures soared quickly.

“You’re hot tonight, baby.” I said. “How long has it been since you’ve been fucked?”

“Days!” Tanya replied, her voice a mixture of need and exasperation. “I was going to call Pete Feeley if I didn’t get some dick soon.”

“I think you’re sweet on that guy.” I said, teasing her as I kissed her and roughly massaged her breasts through the blouse.

“He’s better than nothing.” she said, and I knew she was hiding deeper feelings. “But I want your big dick inside me right now, Don. Fuck me, baby!”

Tanya brought her legs up until her heels were planted on the desk right next to her pussy. She was wearing no panties, and it was a very easy, quick move for me to step up and, with her guiding my size, penetrate her and sheath my meat to the hilt in her soaking wet twat.

“Oh God damn, that’s good!” she gasped. We continued to kiss and clutch at each other as I pumped her with short strokes, unable to get a real good rhythm going at this angle. After a couple of minutes, I slid my cock out of Tanya’s cunt and sat down in the chair.

“Baby, this desk is never going to be this clean and free of papers again.” I said in response to her confused look. “Why don’t you lie back on it. I want to eat your pussy!”

Tanya wasted no time in complying. She lay back, lifting her luscious legs high up in the air and pulling them back. Still sitting in my chair, I eased forward and buried my face between the lovely policewoman’s legs. Inhaling the musky scent of her womanhood, my cock throbbed as I eased between Tanya’s legs and began licking.

“Oh sweet God!” Tanya gasped, trying to keep quiet, but unable to completely control herself. Her hands massaged her breasts through the blouse, then ran through my hair, then back up and down her body, often squeezing her own breasts.

For myself, it was heaven. Tanya’s cunt was delicious; I knew she’d been eating lollipops and sweets all day, and the sweetness definitely enhanced the taste of her. Eating her cunt was like eating a sweet, juicy Georgia peach, I thought to myself as my tongue delved deep into her quim. Then I licked her slit and roughly tortured her clit as I drove one, then two fingers into her wet hole, making her moan.

After several moments of orally enjoying that truly delicious pussy, I stood up and guided my throbbing cock, achingly hard with desire, to Tanya’s twat. Fitting the thick cockhead between her swollen labes, I drove forward, once again burying my hard male meat balls-deep inside her.

“Ohhhhh yesssssssss!” Tanya hissed as I plunged into her. “Oh yeah, fuck me with that big thing!” I guided Tanya’s legs so that her ankles rested just over my shoulders. I did make sure to turn my head and get several tasty licks and kisses of her feet and ankles, taking off her shoes one at a time and sucking on her heels. Tonguing a woman’s feet while fucking her was one of my hottest fetishes, and my cock was throbbing as I held Tanya’s hips and vigorously fucked her.

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