Ay: Mart 2024

Cock-Sucker – Testimony Ch. 05

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Funny

Chapter 05: Bryan

‘The Final Instalment Of The Legend Of The House Of Shame’

As I became more and more sexually fixated on Wolfie, Ian was worried on my behalf. I was never unduly concerned. Although some of my previous nervous symptoms returned, nail biting and stammering. And I admit, my thoughts did occasionally turn to alternatives.

I found myself thinking, with vague regret, about the Trustee I’d ‘auditioned’ for in the potting shed. In retrospect, the more I thought about it, the more it seemed the brief intimacy had been so good. Why hadn’t it worked out? If he’d enjoyed me sucking him off, as he gave every indication of doing, why didn’t he want to do it again? It made no sense. Would I give it another try — even as a one-off? Sure I would, like a shot, without a moment’s hesitation. In a more relaxed, less pressured situation, I’m sure I could make it better for him, if only he’d give me the chance.

What could I say? “Hey if you’re fighting the temptations of the flesh, stop fighting, it’s alright. If you’re worried by guilt about exploitation, fear not, I can suck away your doubts, just let me at it.”

Instead, I wrote a series of notes with the intention of slipping them to him as we passed in the hallway. Writing, then scribbling out, re-wording and re-writing. How explicit should I be without running the risk of scaring him off? Admit that I’d loved the taste of him? That I’d loved what I’d done to him in the potting shed that afternoon, and still thought of those moments crouched on my knees below him, with his hot cock pulsing in my greedy mouth. How I’d do anything he wanted me to, if only he’d grant me a second chance. I’d tell no-one, I’d keep the secret, I’d meet him wherever he wanted, at a time of his choosing, with no strings, no preconditions — except one, that he’d get his cock out and let me do it to him again. Allow me to suck him off all the way. Any follow-up would be entirely at his discretion, I’d never bother him again afterwards, never.

I re-read what I’d written, and my courage failed me. I tear it up. Shred it. Write another, and tear that up too. Sketched an illustration of me with my mouthful of his cock — how much more blatant an invitation can you get than that? But I lack Ian’s artistic skill, and tear that up too. I fret and scheme, but it all comes to nothing. I pass him once or twice in the corridors and the Day-room, smile openly in what’s intended to be an inviting way. A kind of fuck-me-in-the-mouth smile. But he blanks me. Deliberately ignores me.

I saw Stuart again on a number of occasions. The guy I’d sucked-off beneath the spreading tree, as a birthday gift from Wolfie. It was difficult not to encounter people within the enclosed confines of the institution, and he always smiled pleasantly. He seems nice. As though, through an attractive combination of shy interest and tongue-tied reticence, he might be angling for a repeat. Something I would not be entirely averse to. But I had to be careful, he was not ‘Protector’ material, and without Wolfie’s specific instruction I was wary. My unspoken contract with Wolfie implies a level of exclusivity, and if he found out I was freelancing with other guys it made a nonsense of his claims over me (he didn’t know about Ian, so that was different).

So instead I found myself thinking back, almost wistfully, to Dean. How it had begun with me scared and uncertain, growing into bleak resignation, but how it had then developed into a kind of kinky confidence and self-assurance. Remembering the feel of him, the taste of him, the way his hips undulate as he spurts cum into my mouth. Not missing him, not as a person, no, but missing it, the firm heat of it, the feeling of safe predictability. Where is he now? Out there somewhere in the real world, reconnecting with straight sex? Meeting girls? He’d never get a girl to suck his cock the way I did. Does he have a new partner? Does that new partner suck him off as well as I used to? With a guilty pride and no undue modesty, I very much doubt it. Does he still get a stir in his groin thinking of me, recalling me doing it to him, as I get the stir now, thinking of doing it to him? Does he miss the warm moist clasp of my mouth on his cock? There are layers of indeterminacy about looking back. Certainly the longer I get distanced in time from Dean, the better those incidents seem. Maybe I was lying to myself?

Then I begin to consider what Ian had confided to me about the privileges he’d received from the now-disgraced Care Worker. It sets me off wondering in new directions. For there are dark rumours now. Another mentor catering to problem youth. Another bent staff-officer.

“Have you heard those stories about Reed?” I venture to Ian hoarsely. We were lying nude together in the laundry room. My head resting on his bare stomach, my eyes fixed on his cock as I play his foreskin up and down. “Do you think they’re true?”

“Of course they’re true. Haven’t you noticed the way that he watches boys in the shower? He’s queer as Casibom fuck. He loves to watch sweet boys with no clothes on. And more than watch them too. He’d love to see us like this. He’d love to see you with my stiff cock in your fist. He’d love to see you down there sucking me off, you are going to suck it now — aren’t you…?”

“Of course I am. Just try and stop me” I say. I’ve sucked Ian off more times than I can remember. But every time is a joy. I lick my way down his stomach, tunnelling my tongue through his downy pubic hair, circling and nuzzling around the base of his cock, then flick-licking my way up its shaft to the glistening knob-head. It slides so easily into my mouth, so familiar, then — for a while, I’m unable to speak.

But while my mouth is pleasantly bulging with Ian’s cock, until the delicious moment the flood of his orgasm jets into me, I’m thinking. Yes, the stories have the odour of veracity. The rumours that Reed takes advantage of his position. That he takes polaroids of entwined nude boys in light bondage and blindfolds. The stories seem very likely to be true. And surely his sexual favours would be sought after because of the treats and privileges he’s in a position to bestow. And the boys he selects would generally be envied — they’d get things the rest of us don’t, things we all want, and all they have to do is suck cock to qualify. Hell, I’m doing that anyway. So I watch him, yes, he swaggers up and down, arrogantly complacent in his authority. But with ludicrous round glasses that make him look like a Benny Hill comedy-lecher.

It was said he makes his selection by watching us shower, basing his choice on penis-size. He prefers large ones. And, knowing this, boys strut and parade for him provocatively, vying with each other to gain his favour, his approval, stupidly proud of the size of their erections and regarding it as some kind of good fortune to be selected by him, hoping to catch his eye. I did. When he was invigilating while I was showering I ensure I was semi-erect and with my body glistening with water, making sure he notices me, swaying my hips so my genitals move in a way I feel sure he’ll like, thrusting my hips forward to emphasise it, posing, tugging its length a little, absently, as though merely washing — then smiling up coyly at him as if to say ‘no, this is for your benefit’, delaying dressing for as long as I can to ensure he gets a good look — and he looks, I know he looks me full in the groin long and lingering, but he never makes an approach.

Perhaps my cock is too small? Perhaps he prefers cavaliers? I thought back with a kind of warped amusement to when I’d first arrived here, the cursory medical, the first time I’d had to strip naked and shower as the social worker watched me, how scared and shy and vulnerable I’d felt, doing my best to conceal myself from his gaze. How much has changed in so little time. Modesty is something we can’t afford here. A luxury none of us are allowed. Bodies are common property, and nudity a part of it. Nude in the showers. Nude in the dorms. Sex is commonplace, not only tolerated but — if those tales are true, sometimes even encouraged by the institution’s staff. We learn to accept that our bodies will be intimately seen and used on a daily basis without our consent or permission — indeed, without the slightest hesitation or consideration. It’s a fact of life we must adjust to, and make the best of — largely, of course, by acquiring a ‘protector’ who has special rights to our bodies in exchange for their protection.

Sex is frequent, and strictly functional. The object is ejaculation. Orgasm. Shooting spunk into an accommodating mouth or arse. Nothing more. That’s a basic condition of sexual servitude we accept as a simple expedient for survival. But, it seems, he’s not interested in taking advantage of what I’m offering him. Pity. I may not be the most generously genitally-endowed guy here, but hey — it’s not bad, and I could have provided him with polaroids to make his hair curl.

Instead, I had an oddly pleasing encounter. I was showering. I was aware someone else was there, but wasn’t fully conscious of them. It was only as I emerge and begin to move towards my clothes that I feel nervous fingers reaching out and closing around my down-hanging cock. I turn in surprise. He’s a naked young-looking guy, a recent intake. He appears shy and vulnerable. I smile encouragingly, and respond by trailing my fingers down the treasure-trail of hair from his navel to enfold his own nicely proportioned cock in my hand. A perfectly shaped arrowhead tip cresting a generously sized shaft surmounting a delectable set of softly-downed testicles. His stomach muscles shrink back, flinching as my fingers close around him, wary of my intentions. That reaction seems quite endearing to me. He relaxes a little as it becomes obvious I’m only intent on feeling him up.

We stand there stupidly, wordlessly smiling at each other, gently wanking each other. The warmth of his grasp setting up its inevitable magical Casibom Giriş rousing effect. There aren’t many male bodies I’d describe as beautiful, but his is.

At length he seems to pluck up courage and mumbles “I’m alone here, will you be my friend?”

With a shock of amused recognition I realise what he’s doing. He’s approaching me, as I had once approached others, seeking to find a protector! He sees me as a potential protector — me! Is that really the way he sees me? Boy, was he ever wrong! I’d spent all my time here expending my energies to ensure I had protection myself. Do I really look like the kind of figure capable of extending protection to others? Nevertheless, it must have taken courage and determination for him to approach me in the way he had. A lot of nerve, and he’s even using the ‘code’ Ian had told me about. By now we’re both fully erect. He’s swollen pleasingly to fill my fist.

“What’s your name?” I ask him.

“Simon.” There’s a breathy catch in his voice, betraying his state of arousal.

We lurch into the changing room, me leading him, him seemingly reluctant to release his grip on my cock for a moment, until we sit side-by-side, still naked, still toying with each other. He seems to enjoy his warm hold on me, and I’m more than content to let him.

“Well, Simon, the situation’s like this…” And I begin telling him about Wolfie, at first in only the vaguest of terms.

He gets the message, and seems crestfallen. “What is it you actually do with him?” he persists.

I begin to explain a little more explicitly, while running my fingers up and down his cock, bunching and caressing his balls, circling my thumbnail teasingly around the underside of his heart-shaped glans as he becomes visibly more agitated. He’s keenly interested in what I’m saying, his eyes glowing as I tell him about the regular oral sex. His knob blushes attractively in my fist as I wank him, its eye winking open and closed as I work my hand up and down its length. The act of simple mutual masturbation is infectiously innocent. Although I’d experienced so much, he’s self-evidently done less, and this intimacy is still novel and thrilling to him. Something that communicates to me.

But as he becomes more aroused, his growing excitement means he returns his attentions more erratically. His grip on my cock too tight for comfort. Jerking me sporadically as though intent on ripping it off by the root. At last he clenches his bare toes, his tight belly flexing, and he gasps sexily with little whimpering sobs, screws his eyes tight shut, his face contorting into a delightful grimace of pleasure, and he begins spunking off in my hand. Three arcing jets, each as powerful as the last, then a few smaller drools. I coax it, gently squeezing out the last few drooling drops, as he looks both shyly embarrassed and pleased. His milky sap has splashed on the tiled floor, on the bench between his legs, and onto my fingers.

“So I can’t be your protector” I conclude. “But we can be friends, and I’ll help you if I can, in any way I can,” intending the words to have double-meaning.

Drained, he merely sits with my cock resting in his hand, although I’m mentally urging him to resume.

Instead he smiles, says “Thank you” nicely, and finally loosens his hold on my erection, without even the courtesy of bringing me off.

I watch him wipe his spermy cock and balls on one of the coarse white communal towels. Then watch him getting dressed, the curves of his pertly rounded buttocks jolting as he pulls his shorts up. He smiles across at me, maybe sexily wistful with it, and leaves me with a feeling of mild regret, as though I’ve passed up on an opportunity rich with potential. I massage the traces of his sperm into my hands, while reflecting ruefully that I should have put him through it. I guess I could have done to him what others had done to me. Got him in the corner and got him to suck me off, and once he’s gulped down my load sneer derisively at him and say “I’ll let you know if and when I ever need somebody…”

But I don’t have the heart. He’s as lost and confused as I’d once been. The incident just serves to emphasise to me that my role is better suited to be the used, rather than the user. Naturally, the next time I see Ian I explain what had happened. He seemed very interested, and promises to do what he can to help. I saw Simon a few times subsequently, but never alone, and never intimately. When we pass in the breakfast room or the corridor he smiles at me prettily in a way that sets up a stirring in my groin, and has me regretting I’d not exploited the situation better when I had the chance.

My imaginings become more charged the more I think of him, the more I turn the incident over in my mind. Instead of just tossing him off, as pleasant as that had been, I could have sucked him off. Perhaps we could have gone to the laundry room ‘cock-pit’ together and done it all, with his smooth clean new body and fresh eager cock there for me, slithering beneath me Casibom Güncel Giriş as we sixty-nine. Too late now. The moment had passed.

Some time later I raise the subject again with Ian — had be been able to help Simon?

Sure, he said, he’d fixed him up.

“Did you — uh, y’know, take advantage of him?” I venture.

“Naturally I allowed him to demonstrate his aptitude on me. I’d be a fool not to, how could I in all conscience recommend him without knowing how he performs? He might have been useless. He probably considered you a wuss for passing up on the opportunity. So I let him suck me off. Then, once he’d done it, and done it so nicely, I passed him on to Buzz. Buzz has had a hankering to own his own boy ever since you sucked him off so efficiently in the locker room” he explained.

So they were paired. I was horrified at the vision that it conjured up in my head. Buzz has a mighty big cock, and the thought of Simon’s tightly pursed rosebud lips caressing such danger with that relentless penis sundering his mouth again and again, as it had done to mine… is an intimidating image.

“Is that wise?” I protest. “Buzz’s cock’s so big it’ll kill him.”

“You adapted to Wolfie” replies Ian with a shrug. “He’ll be fine. In fact, later on, he thanked me. He was grateful to me for resolving his dilemma and also, I think, for indulging in a little harmless grubby fun. You — your trouble is, you’re way too sensitive and considerate.”

Again, I’m not sure whether he’s teasing me. Did all that actually happen? It’s possible. It’s more than feasible that it did. And indeed, whenever I encounter Simon, he seems to be perfectly grounded. People adapt. Perhaps there’s no room for innocence anymore? I accept that it’s way too late for me. I’m already damned. But I thought maybe Simon was different. It seems I was wrong. And everyone is corruptible. He so easily joined that furtive after lights-out traffic of bare bodies moving between dorms to erotic assignations. Simon contentedly going to Buzz’s bed to obediently suck him off. Which, despite my misgivings, conjures up undeniably enticing images in my mind. Something within me yearns to be there to see it happen.

Every now and then, Ian leaks accidental update details. Simon, he says, has turned out to be a hot piece of arse, a natural slut. First-off, Buzz is amazed and delighted with the enthusiasm of his spunk-gobbling performance, and soon discovers he has problems keeping up with Simon’s voracious appetite for his dick, regularly leaving it sucked raw. Then Ian tells me Simon’s voluntarily drawn up and signed a binding contract ‘assigning all oral, anal and genital rights of his body for the absolute and total use of Buzz whenever and wherever he so chooses’, and that he’s done a ‘lap-of-honour’, sucking his way around the dorm as evidence of his submission.

“What? A four-bed dorm?”

“No, six of them.”

“Did Buzz pressure him to do it?”

“No, Simon suggested it. It was his idea. I don’t know for sure, this is just what I’ve heard.”

The images crowding my head are unbearably intense…

“My arrangement with Wolfie is pretty much like that” I argue back.

“Ah, but it’s not a legal contract.”

“Yes, but would it stand up in court?”

“I think it stands up pretty well anywhere by itself, until someone’s finished sucking it, then it goes a bit limp.”

We’re both laughing and giggling now. But I’m thinking about how ‘Chuckler’ Phil once accused me of ‘setting the bar’ that others were expected to equal. Could it be that Simon is now raising the bar for me, and I’d be expected to follow…? Well, if there was a cock-sucking contract, I guess I’d sign it without a moment’s hesitation.

“We have a contract’ whispers Ian softly. “You and me. My cock is your cock, your cock is my cock. You know that.”

Yes, I know it. And it’s one of the best things that ever happened to me.

— 0 —

It was not until my final months in the Big House that things turn around. Wolfie dumped me. He’d been testing out my limits, until it became obvious to him that I have no limits, which means the game is no longer worth playing. He’d exhausted the ways he could use and exploit me, and so he moved on, taking a new younger inmate in my place. My replacement was a nervous, compliant kid who must in some way have resembled what I was like when I first arrived here.

As I encounter the new boy in the corridor, I smile at him encouragingly, but he turns away hurt and defensive, as I must have done during those first few days of confusion. I want to reach out, to be his friend, to help him in ways that Ian had helped me. And as we had both helped Simon. They are both fresh new young flesh. I feel like an old lag by comparison, hardened and coarsened by my experiences. With Simon, or Wolfie’s new property, I might have introduced them to the other sweet things Ian had done with me. Maybe, if the signs had been right, if the opportunity had presented itself. But they don’t. Nevertheless, both of them have been ‘claimed’, they would learn fast, as I had learned fast. Even though I’ve set the bar high, everything I’d done for Wolfie, the new guys will now be expected to do. The deep-throating, the anal, seeing to other guys for trade.

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Cave Girl

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Big Tits

Paige lay naked and spread eagled, her wrists and ankles cuffed and chained to the bed posts. Beside her a man was methodically stripping, folding his jacket, shirt and trousers, before wrapping his tie around his hand and laying it in a neat roll atop his pile of clothes. She was aware of the bulk of his body, his pale skin and the fine grey hair on his chest. A large man but muscular, and despite his maturity still agile and powerful. His white hair, inappropriately long for his age, caught the evening light.

In the cool air of the room, the hint of a breeze at the open window ruffling a curtain, she felt the acute vulnerability of her body, of breasts and sex. She twisted her forearm, and surprisingly the cuffs abraded her. She had expected them to be soft to her skin, but they were tight and unyielding. She struggled to curl the fingers of her right hand about the chain that held her. She tried to pull. The chain was taut, offering only the barest give.

Craning her head she could see, in the corner of the room, the woman who was the man’s lover. Obscured by shadow yet, in the nervous shifting of her body, betraying anxiety and excitement.

Paige began, in a vain distraction from the tension of her gut, the growing ache in her arms and shoulders, to recollect the events that had allowed this self-degradation, her abandonment to another’s desires and lusts.

It was an ordinary morning. The breakfast table, and the two women preparing for the day. Paige shuffled papers for an early meeting, absent-mindedly picking at her toast. Amanda, still bleary eyed, rolled her coffee mug between her hands. ‘Can I tell you something?’

Paige looked up. ‘You should eat. Breakfast is important. But yes, my love, what is it?’

‘I’ve met someone. A man.’

‘Yes?’

‘A few weeks ago. I should have told you earlier. It was when you were away.’

Paige knew that she was away too often. They had agreed, when Amanda moved in, that theirs need not be an exclusive relationship. There would be too many separations, too many temptations, and in any case there was the complexity of sexualities. ‘I’m not a lesbian, Paige,’ Amanda had explained. ‘Not like you. I am bi. Really. I need men. Sometimes.’ So it had been decided.

‘What is he like, this man? I’m guessing sex is involved?’

‘Nice. A gentleman.’ Always Amanda’s criterion of excellence: a gentleman. Paige vaguely imagined a character from an Edwardian drama. A smart suit and manicured nails. ‘And no sex yet. But there might be. That’s what I wanted to say. To tell you. He knows about you, of course. Knows what I am.

‘Have you seen him often?

‘A few times. A couple of lunchtimes, and when you were working late.’

‘I’m not home enough, am I?’

‘It’s not that. Not at all.’

‘You want my permission to sleep with him?’

‘I suppose so. We’ve kissed. That’s all.’ Amanda was silent a moment. The coffee cup rocked gently between her palms, her fingers spread and stiff.

‘Something else?’

‘It’s not just sex. It’s what he wants. The sort of sex.’

‘”The sort of sex”?’ Paige reached forward and touched the back of Amanda’s hand. It relaxed at the contact, and the cup became still.

‘You know. The bondage stuff. He’s into that.’

Paige smiled. There was a certain indulgence of her lover’s naughtiness, her hesitation on the brink of her perversities.

‘Did you go looking for that? Bondage? Where did you meet?’

‘You can guess. That club. But I am careful. He is nice.’

‘Should I meet him?’

‘I’m not sure. Do you want to?’

‘You’re a grown up. I get a bit protective, don’t I? Vetting the boyfriend. No. See him, my love. Sleep with him. But take care. Let me know where you are, just in case. You understand? Now, I need to get to work. We’ll talk later.’ Paige stood, bending over her lover to kiss her hair. ‘Love you.’

The man was opening the bedside chest of drawers. Paige turned her head. He held a slender green scarf in his hands. ‘Keep still.’ He reached behind her head, lifting it slightly from the pillow and straighting it. She stared at the ceiling as the scarf fell over her eyes. Lifting her head further, with a practiced efficiency, he pulled the blindfold tight and secured it with an efficiently unobtrusive knot. Her head fell back. In the muzzy darkness she felt the mattress move as the man sat beside her. She turned, fruitless, to look at him. The deprivation of sight, vision, twisted the awareness of her body – the pressure on the sheet beneath her, the chaffing of the cuffs, the ache of shoulders, and above all the exposure of her sex, legs spread, ankles secure, unmoving – blindness twisted the slightest sound, the shuffle of Amanda in the corner of the room, the whispered creek of the bed taking the man’s weight, the rise and fall of her breath, even the mouse quiet beating of her heart.

She knew the man’s movements only in the shifting of the mattress beneath her and the pressure of the air. He leant over her, and with surprising tenderness, kissed Casibom her lips. ‘Your naked body is extraordinary, Paige.’ She wanted in her nervousness to speak, but he touched a finger to her mouth. ‘Silence.’

‘Your beautiful dark skin. An Arabian ancestry, perhaps. And of course, such muscular definition. A testimony to your dedication to the gym.’

She wanted to tell him that it was in the gym that she and Amanda had met. Amanda seeing her lifting weights and then following her to the shower, her eyes hungry. ‘Silence.’ He probably knew the story already.

He lay a finger on her breast, and involuntarily her body convulsed. She almost heard his smile, heard the slightly perverse pleasure, the cynicism, at her reaction.

His fingers, his hands, were so much heavier than Amanda’s, than those of any woman she had known, yet they contained an almost surgical precision. The finger traced the lower curve of the breast, from sternum, down and circling up towards her arm pit. She shivered.

‘Breasts so unlike Amanda’s. Amanda’s are firm and full, so traditionally and deliciously pleasurable. But yours are defined by the power and mass of your pectoral major. Quite different. Unusual. Such a subtle texture. The very pores of the skin, the veins tracing their bold network of canals.’ He spoke, barely above a whisper, an echo of the mesmerist in the dark tone. The finger traced a vein in her arm; the stretched deltoid and tricep.

Paige was still sitting up, a glass of wine beside her and a book on her lap, when Amanda got home.

‘You shouldn’t have stay up. You weren’t worried were you?’

‘No. Just couldn’t get to sleep.’

‘Jealous?’

‘A tiny bit, perhaps.’

Amanda smiled. ‘Good. But you’ve nothing to worry about. I’ll always come home to you.’ She kissed Paige on the lips.

‘Would you like some wine?’

‘Please. What are you reading?’

‘An art book. Photographs of Lascaux. You know, the cave paintings? Proofs for the gallery catalogue.’

Amanda snuggled down next to Paige on the sofa. The book was carefully put to one side.

‘Will you tell me about it? You had sex tonight?’

There was a pause, in the silence of the apartment. The intimacy of the moment was carried in the shadows and the textures of the furniture and rugs.

‘You can tell, can’t you? Do I smell of him?’

‘A bit. It’s different. Interesting.’ Paige lifted Amanda’s arm. ‘And your wrists are red. A little sore.’

‘Cuffs. He tied me face down, to a bed. Wrists and ankles.’

‘Face down?’

‘Yes. But nothing anal. I know what you’re thinking. He just took me from behind.’

‘It was good?’

‘Very. Different. Not like us. Not at all. But in its own way, very good. He is a gentleman. Very concerned with my pleasure, not just his own.’

‘I’m glad to hear it. You’ll see him again then?’

‘Yes. And he wants to meet you.’

‘Me?’

‘Would you? I’d like you to. So you get to know him.’

‘You think he is a permanent addition to your life, then?’

‘He might be.’

A finger and thumb took hold of her nipple. It was not yet hard, and the grip pinched. Paige drew in her breath at the pain. His nails were a little longer than expected, perhaps deliberately.

‘Such sensitivity. How stimulating.’

He pulled the nipple. She could feel her breast stretch. A discomfort, almost disembodied, as if some other person ached. He was clinical in his examination of her body and its reactions. ‘Your breast keeps its shape far more readily than does Amanda’s. How pliant hers are. The muscle again, I conjecture. Such a strong, unyielding structure.’ He spoke almost like an engineer, but still in the dark tones of the hypnotist. In her blindness the voice enthralled her, wrapped and cocooned her.

The nipple was released, and the finger continued its journey. It returned to the breast bone, but now down.

‘Rectus abdominis’, he pronounced, as the finger traced the shallow contours of her belly. The muscles tensed. ‘And yet a navel, an umbilicus, like anyone else. She is human, and not formed by the gods from clay, as I feared.’

Thighs parted by the cuffs, the chains, at her ankles; legs open. There was an inevitability in the movement of the finger. It touched the first strands of her pubic hair. ‘How harshly it greets my finger. Wiry and tight to the skin.’ The finger tip rubbed the first curls, circling, testing texture and resilience.

She felt her body flinch away from the touch, but the chains pulled at her ankles and seemed to invert her movement. Her pubic hair pressed against the finger. In the blackness of her blindfold she arched her back and wrenched at her shoulders. Wrists as well as ankles abraded. She could sense his pleasure in her discomfort, her growing fear. Amanda, she knew, stood silent in the corner of the room, watching.

Methodically, the finger came to rest upon her labia. It paused, before beginning to move, restricted, tense strokes, up and down. The lips wriggled and smirked, Casibom Giriş the pressure exaggerating the narrow separation caused by the parted legs. The finger working its way, with a cold expertise,

‘Is she wet?’ Amanda’s voice, harsh and breathless.

‘No. A little moisture, perhaps, but pleasantly dry.’

For a moment she could not comprehend how the dryness of her vulva could be pleasant.

‘It will be so much tighter. I anticipate that it will be so much more painful, for us both. But that is what we enjoy, what we yearn for, is it not?’

The finger rubbed the flesh, the inner petals of her sex, the clitoris. A cold thrill as once again the precision of his touch exerted itself. A friction between male and female flesh. The finger was thick and heavy, parting her so easily, and yet it touched her clit gracefully, brushing over it, teasing and playing with it. The clitoris danced to the attendance of the finger, swaying back and forth or circling. Despite herself, she relaxed into the caress.

‘Are you playing with yourself my sweet Amanda?’ he asked, his body shifting slightly, no doubt to look over his shoulder.

‘Yes.’ She paused. ‘My hand’s under my skirt, in my panties.’

‘Fingers parting your labia, as mine part Paige’s, I suppose. But now, I must go further. Prepare her a little more. Dispel a little of that dryness.’

To be prepared. The chill expectation of his violation of her, its inevitability. She felt the cold sweat on her face, shoulders, torso. Her vagina should have clamped shut. Her thighs should have closed. But the chains tugged her open, and inner recesses of body were made public, exposed and helpless. She lay on the bed, blind and impotent, his plaything. An exotic landscape to explore and ravish.

His finger was strong. The thick first joint and its sharp nail began to press and turn and wheedle. She could not but yield, as the finger seemed to carve out her flesh. Its first joint seemed to fill her, to shape and sculpt her. She had had men before, but this was new. The second violation of her maidenhood.

‘How tight she will be. Far tighter, ever, than you were, Amanda my sweet.’

The meeting took place on an unseasonably cold spring evening, in a small café near to the gallery where Paige worked.

Paige arrived first, ordered a coffee and took at seat near to the window. She spread some papers from work on the table as she waited, looking up repeatedly, scrutinising the street along which Amanda would come. Finally she saw her. A large man, his arm around her shoulder, was holding her close to him, perhaps in protection against the breeze. The door opened.

‘Are we late? Sorry. Paige, this is Anthony.’

‘A pleasure to meet at last, Paige.’ He took her hand, rather formally. ‘Amanda talks so much about you.’

As Amanda went to the counter, Paige sat down with Anthony. Her first impression was of his bulk, but also of the ease with which he carried it. He was tall but lithe, his movements controlled and precise. His nails were well manicured. Secondly, he was a good deal older than Amanda. ‘Old enough,’ Paige thought, chastising herself for being a little prudish, ‘to be her father.’

As he sat he glanced at her papers. An image of a cave painting sat on top.

‘I always find those so beautiful. The bison. It is such an obvious thing to say. I should apologise. The rather vacuous appeal to beauty. But there is something sensual about them. How they play with the surface of the rock. Sorry, I fear that I ramble.’

Paige smiled, a little relieved. She turned the images towards him. ‘I always find them a little uncanny. A voice from so distant an age.’

He picked up the picture, balancing it gently on his palm, careful not to mark it.

‘I know this is a little awkward,’ he said at last, ‘but I had to meet you. I know how important you are to Amanda, and believe me, I don’t want to endanger what you have, what you two share, for a moment.’

‘You too seem to have become rather important to her of late. She seems more complete since meeting you.’

Anthony had a charming smile. ‘We share certain interests. Could I say that?’

‘Chains and whips?’

He smiled again. ‘But that is not for you and Amanda, I fear?’ He placed the image of the bison carefully back on top of Paige’s papers.

‘Only as a fantasy. Pretend. I think you take it rather more seriously than I could. She needs that. I’m grateful to you.’

‘You don’t disapprove?’

‘I worry a little for her safety. I’m sure you can understand.’

‘I am careful. It must be part of the practice. Care. It’s not about cruelty. Not at all.’

‘She does seem happy with you. And she is a good judge of character.’

‘She is a most remarkable woman.’

‘She is’, Paige agreed, as Amanda set a tray of coffees on the table.

‘My love, can we, Anthony and me, can we ask you something?’

‘Yes, I suppose so.’ Paige was hesitant. There was something different in the excitement of Amanda’s Casibom Güncel Giriş voice, the urgency with which the announcement was made.

‘Of course you can. Sit down, and then tell me.’

Amanda sat between Paige and Anthony.

‘Well, it’s this.’ There was a thin streak of milk adorning her upper lip. Paige longed to brush it away with her finger, but restrained herself. Each of them seemed to protect their personal space, to repress gestures of intimacy.

‘It’s this, really. We would really love it if you could join us. Join us, I mean, in sex.’

‘A threesome?’

‘Sort of, but not quite. Maybe not at first. More, you watch us. I want you to see me with a man. See me with Anthony.’

Paige could not quite help but show her surprise.

‘I want you to know what it’s about. The straight thing – being bi. Would you do that for me?’

‘I’m not sure. I’m really not sure. Sorry, I don’t think I was expecting this. You mean the BDSM stuff? I’d be watching the BDSM stuff?’

‘Nothing extreme. No whips. That would be something of an imposition, I suspect. Rather impolite.’ Anthony smiled, graciously.

‘No. Then what do you want me to witness? Bondage?’

‘We do enjoy chains, straps, just those toys.’ Amanda smiled.

‘Restraint. Further depravities, I’m afraid, Paige. Is it too much? But we should perhaps not, I fear, over-think it. Whatever is right. To play into the moment. Perhaps there is a risk. Does it worry you? I mean, what we do? I know Amanda frets, sometimes. Wanting such experiences.’

Paige did not immediately reply.

‘It should do, should it not?’ Anthony continued. He looked down at his coffee and played with the spoon a moment. ‘I’m a man who, if I’m honest, is only satisfied if my partner is bound. I actually require a woman to… what? Submit herself? Surrender, I suppose. Offer to me her free will. Give up any right to act. That is not really a happy thought, is it?

‘But it’s who you are, I suppose. Amanda desires submission, I know. Some of the time.’

Paige wondered if anyone could overhear this conversation, and she looked up nervously. The café was largely preoccupied with its own thoughts. A handful of people, some singly, some in pairs, spending the last moments of the afternoon, waiting a train home or time for dinner or the cinema.

He knelt, now, between her legs. His knees pressed against hers. He had pushed two fingers into her, as deeply as they could penetrate. He parted them into a narrow V inside her, stretching the vaginal walls. Paige screwed up her face in pain. He pressed his thumb hard against her clitoris, and began to rub.

‘How different you feel to Amanda. The bud, nestling amid the petals of your rose. Clitoris – such a nice word – between labia majora and labia minora. So hard, it barely moves. And the pliancy within, so stubborn, so unyielding.’

Despite herself, there was a tingling, manifest outwardly in a little moisture. She wondered if this could simply be some mechanical process, the automatic response of her body to his practiced attentions. But that made no sense. He could not transfigure fear and trepidation into a genuine stirring of desire. His hands, his body, still threatened, but she was coming to embrace this threat, to find pleasure in it. She still felt, acutely, how vulnerable she was, the exposure of her body to pain, to humiliation, and yet his subtle bulk now attracted her. She breathed in the male scent, felt his presence, torso, thighs, close and intimate. She knew that his organ was erect and angry, and she remembered its size with something like lust.

Perhaps it was simply due to the sound of Amanda, her lover, in her corner of the room. In her darkness, Paige could hear the rustling as Amanda moved, a rhythm of self-gratification and the whispering of her breath, heavy, excited. Or perhaps there was a mesmerism in Anthony’s attentions, not merely in the voice, velvet and beguiling as it was, but in the lunge of his fingers, their joints massaging her, or the pad of the thumb exerting its pressure. For all his violence, he was neither rough nor careless. The touch carried a tenderness, even affection, caressing a surrender.

On the next convenient Friday evening, the three of them met in Anthony’s apartment. He poured wine, and they sat chatting in his living room. Paige and Amanda curled on a sofa together, Anthony cross-legged on the floor nearby. Paige approved of Anthony’s discrete show of taste. Original paintings on the wall and the lack of ostentation in the expensively well made furniture. Three friends, for a little while, obeyed the conventions of polite conversation, and no one, overhearing them by some strange accident, might have guessed the perversity of their plans. There was nothing in the talk of art and films and politics that would hint that each was preoccupied by their own thoughts of sex. Amanda anticipated the grip of the cuffs on her wrists; she anticipated Anthony’s possession of her. He discretely compared his two guests: Amanda’s soft and gently rounded body, her long silken hair; Paige’s physique, her sculpted muscles. He desired Amanda, and yet Paige intrigued him, perhaps frightened him a little. Paige wondered, fearfully, how she might cope. She anticipated only her jealousy.

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College Break at Home

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Bdsm

Jamie was a senior in college, back home from school for Fall break. Normally, he would’ve stayed at school for the vacation so that he could just relax and get drunk with his roommates. But this year, his parents were throwing a big, black-tie event at the house and they’d requested he come back to help out. Although not his ideal vacation, Jamie figured the party would be a good way to score some free booze to bring back to school.

When he’d arrived home, his parents told him that an old family friend, Mark, would be staying at their house before the event. Jamie liked Mark. In his late-40s now, he was still in shape with a full head of dark hair and a strong jawline. He was a guy’s-guy, friendly and a little ridiculous, the life of the party. Of course, the partying may have got him into trouble at home: He and his wife were in the final stages of a divorce, so he would be attending the party stag.

Partly due to pity from the divorce and partly due to him traveling across the country, Jamie’s parents had offered Mark stay in their home instead of finding a hotel. After all, he was basically family. Since Jamie would sleep in his childhood bedroom and Mark would be in the guest bedroom, the two would have to share a bathroom.

The day of the party, Jamie slept in until 11am. He was wiped from all the party preparations, but excited for the night ahead. He went to the kitchen to grab some coffee, finding that the house was silent. He figured that everyone was out running errands.

Being at home meant he almost never had any alone time, so he took the opportunity to get some sexual release. Jamie went back to his room and stripped off his clothes, inspecting his body in the mirror as he started to get hard.

Jamie was a “jock” in the gay world – masculine, muscled, but definitely gay. He went to the gym nearly daily, bulking up his biceps and abs into pique physical condition. With short blonde hair and shaved pubes, he loved the way he looked. It didn’t hurt that his physique got him hookups easily on the gay apps, mostly with other fit college guys.

He laid down on the bed and pulled up some porn on his phone, a video he loved where two “straight” jocks have sex for cash. But as he reached over to his bedside table for lube, he realized it wasn’t there anymore.

Huh, he thought, maybe I left it in the bathroom last time I was in town.

He got up, fully nude and dick at full staff, and barged into the bathroom without knocking.

“Woah, hey Jamie!” said Mark in surprise. He was standing at the sink in just a towel, combing his hair. Jamie immediately noticed his huge arms and big pecs covered in trimmed, black hair. His eyes followed the hair down his toned stomach and to his pubes, which barely peeked out above his towel.

“Oh shit,” said Jamie, catching himself staring and clearly embarrassed. “Didn’t think anyone was home.”

He awkwardly tried to cover up his erection with his hands, not wanting to make Mark uncomfortable. But he was calm about it, clearly unaffected by the moment.

“No worries, Jamie. If you need to use the bathroom, don’t let me stop you. There’s plenty of room in here for both of us.”

Jamie Casibom found that was oddly progressive of Mark, obviously not caring about seeing each other naked. Even so, Jamie didn’t have to pee and didn’t want to admit he was just grabbing some lube.

“That’s cool, Mark,” Jamie said nervously as he tried to make up an excuse. “I’m just here to, uh…, grab my deodorant.”

Mark obviously didn’t believe him, giving Jamie a knowing look as he peered down at his erection.

“Sure you weren’t looking for this?” Mark opened a drawer and pulled out the bottle of lube. Jamie nodded sheepishly, caught in the act.

“I was looking for some last night when you were out and grabbed it from your nightstand. Hope you don’t mind,” Mark said with a wink.

“Not a problem,” replied Jamie. “Hope you liked it, it’s the really slick stuff for us gays.” He figured if he wanted to get out of this encounter unscathed, he had to play cool.

“Oh for sure, Jamie,” Mark responded casually. “Never dried out. I bet you fuck dudes for hours with that stuff.”

Jamie laughed, starting to feel at ease with Mark. He appreciated how normal Mark was about him being a young, horny gay dude, the complete opposite of most dads he’d met.

Mark casually removed the towel from his waist and hung it up on the rack beside him. Jamie first got a glimpse of Mark’s ass, a perfect half-orb. Jamie did squats every day trying to get an ass that round!

But when Mark turned around, Jamie completely forgot about his ass. His dick was at least 5 inches soft, with a huge mushroom head. It draped nicely over his balls, which were shaved clean and still tight against his groin. Jamie had never been sexually attracted to older guys before, but Mark was a thing of beauty.

Mark was completely unashamed, noticing the way Jamie stared at his dick.

“Like what you see?” He smiled jokingly, pulling at his cock as he teased Jamie.

“Damn, Mark, you must be popular with the ladies.”

Mark chuckled. “Yeah, maybe too popular. To be honest, Sarah and I divorced after she caught me sleeping around. I just can’t resist a good fuck.”

Mark kept tugging lightly at his dick with his right hand, which began to grow. It stiffened to 8 inches, with veins protruding from the shaft into the biggest cockhead Jamie had ever seen.

“Well, I don’t mean to keep you from jacking off,” said Mark as he extended his left arm out to hand Jamie the lube. But when Jamie reached out to grab it, Mark retracted just a bit.

“Unless, of course, you’d want to jack off my big cock too?” He smiled lustfully and earnestly at Jamie.

Jamie felt the adrenaline rush through his body as he moved closer to Mark, signaling his agreement. He grabbed the lube and poured some into his right hand. Without a word, he wrapped his palm around Mark’s dick.

They kept eye contact as Jamie began to stroke Mark. His hands seemed small in Mark’s cock, having to move far up and down in order to reach the whole shaft. Slick from the lube, he massaged the tip with his palm while tugging on his balls with the other hand. Jamie felt Mark’s breath on his lips as they moved Casibom Giriş closer together.

“I want to worship your cock,” Jamie whispered. Mark replied with a passionate kiss, their tongues trading saliva as he grabbed Jamie’s ass cheeks with both hands.

Jamie broke away, lowering to his knees on the bathmat. Continuing to stroke Mark’s balls, he wrapped his lips around his dick. He tasted the lube and smelled the sweet, manly musk from his groin. Mark shuddered as he watched Jamie work his mouth deeper along the shaft.

Jamie felt the tip of Mark’s cock hitting the back of his mouth with a few inches left still on the shaft. Opening his throat, he pushed his mouth deeper and deeper, holding back his gag reflex as best he could.

Still unable to finish the job, Mark grabbed the back of Jamie’s head and rammed his cock fully inside. Jamie choked a little, but kept it down.

“You’re so good at taking dick, Jamie,” grunted Mark as he began to fuck Jamie’s face with his cock. With each thrust, Jamie gagged as the tip went completely down his throat.

As Mark continued fucking his face, Jamie reached around and grabbed Mark’s ass, in part just to provide some stability. He massaged Mark’s tight cheeks, slowly pulling them apart. He traced his finger up and down the crack, feeling the short, soft hair. Mark was a little sweaty from the exertion, which only turned on Jamie more. Finally, he placed his finger directly on Mark’s asshole, pushing in firmly. Mark clearly loved it, letting out a deep moan.

Jamie knew what he wanted. Still on his knees, he pushed Mark’s groin away from his face and spun his body around. Mark leaned over the bathroom counter as Jamie grabbed his hips, positioning his face right in front of Mark’s perfect globe of an ass.

“Ever had you ass eaten, Mark?”

“Never, Jamie,” he responded.

Jamie pulled apart Mark’s cheeks and admired his tight, pink asshole up close. He spat on it, then ran his tongue along the taint. He tasted the lube and Mark’s sweat, making him horny as ever.

“Fuck that’s incredible,” Mark moaned.

Jamie traced the hole with his tongue, and then began to rim him directly. He flicked his tongue against Mark’s pussy, lapping it up ferociously.

“You taste so good, I could eat your ass all day,” Jamie said shamelessly back to Mark.

Jamie could see Mark’s right hand jacking off aggressively as he continued to rim him, sending his balls flying back and forth into his taint. Mark moaned loudly up against the bathroom mirror, loving the pleasure from both ends.

But he wanted even more. Mark turned around and pulled Jamie up, holding him tightly as they kissed passionately once again. Their hands ran along each other’s muscles as their hard cocks pressed together.

“I can taste my ass on your mouth,” Mark said sultrily to Jamie. “You ready to get fucked?”

Without a word, Mark whipped Jamie around and bent him over the sink. Jamie could see himself and Mark in the reflection of the mirror. Mark poured more lube onto his right hand, first stroking his own dick and then rubbing it along Jamie’s asshole. The lube felt warm on his Casibom Güncel Giriş body, heated up by Mark’s strong hands. Finally, he pushed two fingers inside Jamie’s hole.

Jamie let out a sigh of relief, knowing he was ready to get fucked.

“Put your dick in me, Mark!”

Mark was ready too. He forcefully pressed his erect member against Jamie’s hole, breaking the seal on his first push and sliding right in. Jamie gasped, not expecting to be entered so fast.

“Fuck Mark, you’re huge!”

Mark just smiled as he began to thrust long and deep inside Jamie. Soon, the pain subsided and Jamie began to enjoy the dick inside him.

They stared at each other through the mirror. Mark’s biceps flexed as he held on tightly to Jamie’s sides. He abs were clearly visible as his hips rocked back and forth. Jamie felt like he was being fucked by an older, Greek god as Mark’s cock hit his prostate with every push.

“Pound my ass, Mark!” Jamie was ravenous.

Mark sped up, slamming his groin into Jamie’s ass. The clap of each thrust echoed throughout the bathroom as Jamie moaned loudly.

“Fuck, your ass is so perfect Jamie,” Mark grunted, staring right into Jamie’s eyes.

Jamie leaned back, wrapping his left arm around Mark’s shoulder. He felt the sweat on Mark’s body, the smell of sex emanating from his pores.

“You’re gonna make me cum, Mark!!” Mark reached around and grabbed Jamie’s dick, jacking it off rapidly as he continued to pound him.

Jamie exploded. Thick ropes of cum shot out from his dick onto the bathroom counter and mirror as Mark continued to stroke his cock. Jamie shuddered, feeling his ass contract around Mark’s dick with each pulse. His load coated Mark’s toothbrush and comb, as Mark moaned deeply in approval. When the orgasm finally stopped, sweat poured down Jamie’s chiseled body, hot and heavy from releasing his seed.

“Fuck, that was a huge load Jamie,” Mark whispered into Jamie’s ear.

Mark ran his hand along Jamie’s rock-solid chest, making it sticky from his own cum. His pace increased once more as his breath became short and uncontrolled. Jamie knew Mark was about to finish.

“Breed my ass, Mark!”

Jamie’s command threw Mark over the edge. He grabbed Jamie’s body tightly as he rammed his cock inside his ass one final time.

“FUCK!” Mark screamed as his dick erupted. Jamie yelled in pain as Mark’s dick went farther inside him than ever before, his strong grip nearly crushing Jamie’s body. Mark’s eyes rolled back, unable to stay focused on anything but the orgasm.

Jamie felt the cum rush into his hole. Mark’s cock twitched violently against Jamie’s prostate as his balls unloaded, filling up Jamie’s boy pussy with his seed. Mark grunted quickly as he came, unable to control his body as he orgasmed.

When his load finally ended, Mark kept his cock inside Jamie as he began to kiss his neck. Their hot, sweaty bodies rubbed against each other, muscles flaring from the workout. As they caught their breaths, Mark looked right into Jamie’s eyes.

“Damn Jamie, it felt so good to pound your ass.”

Jamie grinded down on Mark’s dick, making him shudder once more. “I love your dick inside me. But let’s clean up before my parents get home!”

Mark pulled out of Jamie, spilling his seed onto the bathroom floor. But he knew this wouldn’t be their last encounter before the weekend was over.

To be continued.

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Emotionless Pt. 03

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Asian

Lauren wasn’t sure what she had just heard. She stood in her doorway in shock for a few seconds before she was able to get words out of her mouth “What do you mean you got in accident? Are you okay? What happened to my jeep?”

“I’m okay. Just a little sore. But your jeep, it’s pretty bad. I’ll pay to fix it.” Jennifer weaseled her way past Lauren into the living room.

Lauren walked out to find her jeep in the lot. She couldn’t believe it when she saw it. The entire passenger side was crushed in and her cover, what was left of it anyways, was hanging down in shreds. It looked like the jeep was hit by a train, Lauren knew there was no way it could be repaired. The jeep was the first thing Lauren bought with the money she saved from the club. She spent every dime she had on it. She knew she shouldn’t have let Jennifer drive home, but she didn’t really have another option. She went back inside and grabbed her keys.

“Where are you going?” Jennifer shouted from the couch.

“To see what the dealer can do about my jeep. I’ll be back then, I’ll take you home.” Lauren said as she walked out. She drove off to her dealer’s lot but unfortunately he told her there wasn’t much he could, her insurance would total it out and she could use that towards a new vehicle. She made the claim with her insurance over the phone and they told her how much she could expect. She told the dealer she would be back in a week and they decided she would use the claim money for a new jeep.

Lauren didn’t realize she had been gone for almost two hours until she got home and Jennifer started on her “Damn it Tripp, I thought you were only going to be gone for a few minutes. I’m starving and you don’t have a thing to eat in this shithole of an apartment.”

Lauren was slightly offended. She really liked the look of her apartment. Sure there wasn’t much food and it wasn’t very homey, but it was Lauren’s and that made it perfect. “I don’t know Jenn. Maybe I was off fixing your fuck up again. I can’t believe you totaled my fucking jeep. Come on, I’ll take you home.” Lauren felt her anger begin to bubble but she tried to calm it.

Jennifer got up with a groan. “I’m sorry Lauren. I really didn’t mean to.”

“I know. Just, let’s go, we can stop and get lunch. But you’re paying.” Lauren followed Jennifer out of the apartment.

“I guess it’s the least I could do.”

Lauren took Jennifer home. On the way they stopped at their favorite diner for lunch. They both got their usual, Lauren a cheeseburger with fries and Jennifer chili with a milkshake. Jennifer actually paid this time. Lauren finally got Jennifer home. “Thanks for the ride home. I’m sorry for your jeep, again.”

“It’s fine. I’ll figure it out, I always do.” Lauren rubbed her forehead.

“Oh come on. How about you come inside? I’ll make it up to you the best I can.” Jennifer slid her hand over Lauren’s thigh.

Lauren looked at her, “When was the last time you got laid?”

“What? I’m just trying to make you feel better.” Jennifer pled.

Lauren knew that was a lie. Jennifer always tried to have sex with her when she hadn’t gotten it from anywhere else. “Fine” Lauren got out of the jeep.

As soon as Jennifer shut the door behind Lauren she kissed turned and kissed Lauren deeply. Lauren kissed her back, pushing her against the front door. Jennifer moaned into Lauren’s mouth. Jennifer pushed Lauren back, leading them into the living room. Jennifer pushed Lauren onto the couch then took her shirt off before straddling Lauren’s lap. Lauren ran her long, thin fingers across Jennifer’s familiar stomach. She traced down to Jennifer’s pants, unzipping them, exposing her lace panties. Lauren sat up and kissed Jennifer’s hip as she rubbed Jennifer’s clit through her panties. Jennifer leaned back and let out a moan. Lauren carefully slipped her fingers through the top of Jennifer’s panties and into her. Jennifer gasped as Lauren started to push in and out of her. Jennifer leaned down, kissing Lauren’s ear. Lauren moaned, feeling blood rush to her ear. She began to thrust into Jennifer faster. Finally, Lauren felt Jennifer tighten around her fingers then relax. Lauren felt Jennifer try to catch her breath. Lauren kept moving in and out of Jennifer until she felt her release again. Lauren took her hand out of Jennifer’s pants and smiled up at her as she laid back. Jennifer took Lauren’s hand, she began to suck on Lauren’s fingers. As she sucked and licked, Lauren couldn’t help but to groan in pleasure. When she was done, Jennifer leaned down and whispered into Lauren’s ear “see don’t you feel better now?”

Lauren gave a small smirk, “It’ll do.”

“I’ll take that. What are you doing tonight?” Jennifer moved off Lauren’s lap and sat next to her on the couch.

“Nothing.” Lauren ran her fingers through her hair.

“I’m thinking of going to the club later. Maybe have a few drinks and hang out. Want to join?”

“Maybe. I’ll text you later.” Lauren got up and headed out of the door. She was in a pretty bad mood so she decided to head home and lay low for Casibom the rest of the day. She stopped at the store to get some groceries before getting home. She figured she keep some sort of food there. When she got home she picked up around her apartment and did her laundry. She slumped down on her couch around 6. She sat there for a few minutes staring at the wall in deep thought. She thought about Harper and wondered what she was doing. Harper was the first girl to ever stay over at Lauren’s and not sleep with her. Lauren closed her eyes for a few seconds, lately she had been so tired.

Lauren woke up startled, her nightmares were coming back. She thought she had finally pushed them back far enough that they wouldn’t bother her anymore, but with the trial everything was coming back. She rubbed her forehead and looked at the clock. 8:00pm. She couldn’t believe she fell asleep again. She hadn’t felt like herself for the past few weeks and decided it was time to have a little fun. She pulled her phone from her pocket and called Jennifer. Jennifer answered “Hey babe, calling for round two?” she laughed.

“Hey, still going out tonight?” Lauren ignored her comment. She only slept with her this afternoon because she knew that’s what Jennifer wanted and it helped her relieve some stress.

“Yeah, I’m about to start getting ready. Liv, Jane, Sara, and Sara’s new boyfriend will be here in a few for pre-game drinks. You coming?”

“Yeah. I’ll head that way in a few. Just have to get ready. Do I need to bring anything?”

“Nah, I have vodka and beer. So if you want anything else, just that.”

“Okay, see you in a bit.” Lauren hung up. She got up and headed to the bathroom. She showered and brushed her teeth. She walked to her closet with the towel wrapped around her waist. Her exposed nipples hard and perky from the chill in the air. She grabbed a black button down and a pair of dark washed jeans that had a tear in the mid thigh of one leg. She slipped on her boxer briefs, then her jeans which sat on her perfectly so that the top of her hip bones were still exposed. She put on her belt and grabbed her shirt. She buttoned up her shirt, leaving the top button undone, showing her chest and the chain of her necklace. She put on socks and her black Vans. She went back to the bathroom and used some gel for her hair. She pushed her bangs to the side and pushed them back. She ran her fingers through her hair so that it looked purposefully messy, which helped with her cowlick that never laid down right. She opened up her cabinet and grabbed one of her bottles of cologne. She sprayed both of her forearms and neck. Lauren glanced at the clock in her room, 8:30. Jennifer was probably just getting ready. Lauren looked through her cabinets, she still had a bottle of Sailor Jerry’s Rum that she took from the club a month ago. She grabbed the bottle and left. On the way out, she picked up her keys and wallet.

She got to Jennifer’s and saw the cars parked on the side of the road, in front of Jennifer’s house. Lauren pulled up next to Jennifer’s car. She heard the laughter from outside as she walked up to the door. She thought about knocking but knew nobody would hear, so she just walked in. Everybody was in the living room drinking and joking, except Jennifer.

“Hey Tripp.” Jane and Liv said as she walked in.

Sara just glanced up and back down as she saw Lauren walk in. Sara put a hand on her boyfriend’s thigh. Sara didn’t like Lauren, probably because Lauren refused to sleep with her again. On one of Lauren’s drunken nights out with the group, Sara followed her in the bathroom and came onto Lauren. Lauren feeling too tipsy to process anything, she fucked her in the stall. But after that night, Sara became obsessed and believed that her and Lauren were together. Lauren explained that it was a one time thing, that until then everyone thought Sara was straight. Lauren stopped hanging around them for a few months after that. Ever since they started going out together again Sara made sure to have a boyfriend with her and all but fucked him when Lauren was around.

Lauren waved at them all and went to the kitchen to fix her drink. After she fixed her glass, she went to Jennifer’s room and plopped down on the bed. “Still not ready yet?” Lauren took a sip from her glass.

“Well I was waiting for you to get here so I could get dressed in front of you. I know how you like the sight of me naked.” Jennifer joked as she tossed possible outfits on the bed.

Lauren trying to dodge the clothes replied “Meh been there, seen that. Nothing new.”

“Oh whatever you bitch.” Jennifer walked out of her closet with a grey top and jeans with holes in the knees. “What do you think about this?”

Lauren smiled “The shirt looks good, but the jeans? Everyone will know you are always on your knees.”

Jennifer walked over to Lauren and popped her on the shoulder, “You are such a dick.”

“You like my dick the last time I checked. Try these instead.” Lauren handed Jennifer a pair of black shorts.

“What’s not to like Casibom Giriş about a fake dick? Real ones are usually gross and hairy.” Jennifer put on the pants and the shirt. “What shoes?”

Lauren looked at all the shoes on the floor for a second “Those.” She pointed to a pair of black and white Converse. Lauren finished her drink.

Jennifer sat next to Lauren and put on her shoes. “Will you fix a drink for me? Vodka and Red Bull.”

Lauren got up “Anything else Princess?” She smiled and walked to the kitchen.

By the time she finished making the two of them drinks, Jennifer was in the living room. Lauren handed Jennifer her drink, then sat on the floor. “So where are we going tonight?” Jennifer asked.

“We can just go to Ground Zero. Didn’t they just hire a new DJ?” Liv said sipping her drink.

“Yeah, she’s pretty good. Right Tripp?” Jennifer grinned at Lauren.

“Yeah she’s definitely better than the last guy.” Lauren agreed.

“Plus she’s pretty hot. Tripp’s already set her sights for her. Maybe she’ll get lucky.” Jennifer finished her drink.

“Uh oh” Jane smiled at Lauren.

“I don’t set my sights for anyone. What happens, happens.” Lauren finished her drink and lifted her glass towards Jennifer.

“Mhm, sure.” Jennifer grabbed Lauren’s glass and went to the kitchen to fix another drink for them.

They all sat around drinking and joking with each other. After the alcohol was gone and they were all feeling pretty good they decided it was time to go to the club. They loaded up in Jennifer’s Altima. Lauren was nominated as driver because she was the most sober of everyone, she had a high tolerance for alcohol. They got to the club and went in through the back door. They headed to the bar and ordered drinks. Everyone headed to the dance floor. The new DJ must have really made an impression because she was back tonight. She was playing a dubstep remix of “Oh Well, Oh Well” by MayDay Parade. Lauren was amazed at the DJ’s skill. Lauren glanced up at her. The DJ was staring right at her as she mixed the music, dropped the bass and wobbled. Lauren kept dancing with Jennifer.

“What are you grinning at?” Jennifer yelled over the music.

Lauren didn’t even notice she was smiling. She took a sip of her drink “Nothing.” She stopped dancing and walked off to the V.I.P. section. She sat in the oversized chair, listening to the music. It sounded like it was put on a general playlist. She looked over at the DJ stand, the girl was gone. Lauren couldn’t see her in the crowd. She finished her drink. She saw her friends still dancing on the floor so she headed for the back door to get some fresh air. When she got out there she saw the DJ leaning against the wall smoking. When she heard the door shut she looked over towards Lauren. Lauren sat on a crate and rubbed her forehead, not realizing that the DJ was looking at her.

“You alright?” Lauren heard a voice question. She looked up then she noticed the DJ looking at her.

“Yeah, I’m good. Just been a long week.” Lauren replied.

The DJ walked over to Lauren “Aren’t you a bartender here?”

“Yeah, I’m here with friends tonight though.”

“Mhm, I saw you walk in through the back with them. My name’s Jessie” She put out her cigarette and stretched her hand out towards Lauren.

Lauren shook her hand “I’m Lauren, everyone calls me Tripp.”

“So where’s your girlfriend tonight?” Jessie asked.

Lauren was confused “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Oh I saw you last night with some girl. She was clearly drunk. You practically carried her out of the club.”

Lauren realized she was talking about Harper. “She’s not my girlfriend. I really don’t even know her. She was very drunk and I couldn’t find her friends. So I took her home.”

Jessie shrugged, “Well good. Didn’t want to have any competition.”

Lauren was baffled by her comment. Normally she is the casanova in the situation. “Oh really? Maybe I’ll just give the girl a call and get to her before you can.” Lauren said pretending to not realize Jessie was talking about Lauren.

Jessie smiled “Cigarette?”

“No, I quit a while back.” Lauren shook her head.

“Yeah me too.”

Lauren was completely shocked by this woman. She was intrigued by this woman. She wanted to keep talking to her. She had never had this feeling about anyone. “Well I better get back to my friends.” Lauren stood up and adjusted her jeans.

Jessie nodded “Yeah I should get back to work. Wouldn’t want Matt to decide he doesn’t like me after all.” She gave a small laugh.

They walked back in. Jessie headed to her stand, Lauren went back to her friends on the floor. Lauren started dancing with Jennifer again. “Where did you go?”

“Outside for some fresh air. Is that okay?” Lauren joked with her.

“You could have at least brought back another drink.” Lauren noticed Jennifer’s words were starting to slur.

“I think you’ve had enough Jenn.” Lauren said as they danced. Jennifer rolled her eyes then turned around and pushed Casibom Güncel Giriş her ass into Lauren. Lauren put her hands on Jennifer’s hips as they moved together. Lauren looked up at Jessie who was very focused on the computer in front her. Lauren was finally starting to feel buzzed, everything that had gone on in the past few weeks left her mind. Lauren and Jennifer headed back to the bar to get another drink. Jennifer already had too much to drink, but Lauren didn’t feel like arguing with her. Lauren wanted to keep her good mood. Lauren looked over at Jane and Liv, they were each dancing with a girl. Looked like they were getting laid tonight. Lauren turned to make a comment to Jennifer but Jennifer was no longer next to her. Instead it was an older woman with long, dirty blonde hair and large breasts, that were clearly fake. The woman smiled and sipped on her martini. Lauren gave her a crooked smile. The woman took her olive and circled it around the rim of her glass. “Hi sweetie.” Her voice was slightly raspy and she had a British accent.

Lauren was feeling pretty good by now and figured she could have some fun. “Hey, can I get you another?” She pointed at the woman’s half empty glass.

The woman nodded and finished her drink in one large gulp. Lauren flagged the bartender “How about another martini for this young woman here? And another Sailor Jerry for me.”

The bartender quickly had their drinks made. Lauren was pleased, this was a bartender Matt hired that didn’t need any training. Lauren and the woman grabbed their drinks, “Cheers” the woman said clinking her glass against Lauren’s.

Lauren nodded and sipped her drink. “My name is Lauren.”

“Very nice to meet you Lauren. I’m Kimberly.” she said seductively.

Lauren liked the woman’s accent. She placed her hand on Kimberly’s and led her to the floor. Kimberly moved against Lauren as they danced. She turned around, pushing against Lauren. Lauren wrapped her hands around her and kissed her neck. Kimberly pushed her back against Lauren’s chest. Lauren glanced up at Jessie, there was a short haired girl kissing on her neck. Lauren felt a deep pang in her gut, it was a feeling she had never felt before. Kimberly turned around then whispered in Lauren’s ear “Can I take you home?”

Lauren nodded. Kimberly led her through the crowd. Lauren took one last look at the DJ stand. Jessie was in the middle of a deep kiss with the petite girl. Lauren followed Kimberly to her car. On the drive to Kimberly’s house, Lauren sent Jennifer a text “Got a ride home. Be safe tonight. Call if you need anything.”

Kimberly pulled the car into the driveway of what looked like a three story house. Lauren thought normally women like this were married, she hoped the husband wouldn’t barge in or show up in the morning. She hated having to sneak out. Kimberly put the car in park and placed her hand on Lauren’s lap. “Here we are.”

Lauren got out of the car “This is a nice place you have here.”

“Thank you, I’ve worked very hard for it.” Kimberly locked the car as they headed towards the door. They went inside. “Would you like a drink Lauren?”

Lauren could feel herself starting to sober up, “Please.”

“Scotch or Whiskey?” Kimberly asked as she headed towards a bar in the back of the living room.

“Scotch.” Lauren hadn’t had a good scotch in a long time.

Kimberly brought back a glass for Lauren and a glass of wine for herself. Lauren took a sip “That is some damn good scotch.”

“I’m glad you like it. It belongs to my ex.” Kimberly casually drank from her glass sitting down next to Lauren on a couch.

Lauren was glad to hear Kimberly say ex. It meant she shouldn’t have any worries. Kimberly placed her hand on Lauren’s thigh the same way she did before getting out of the car. She slowly started to move her hand up and down Lauren’s thigh. Lauren leaned back, finishing her drink. Lauren moved her hand to Kimberly’s back as she sat her glass on the table on the other side of her. Kimberly slipped her hand between Lauren’s legs. Lauren dug her fingers into the small of Kimberly’s back. Kimberly moaned, Lauren leaned over kissed Kimberly’s neck. Lauren felt Kimberly’s breathing become faster.

Just as Lauren was moving her hand over Kimberly’s waistline, a car pulled into the driveway. Kimberly jumped up. She went over to the window to see who it was. “Shit” Kimberly adjusted her pants and shirt. “It’s my ex. I don’t know why she is here.”

“I’ll leave. Where’s the back door?” Lauren got up and ran her fingers through her hair.

“No it’s okay. I’ll see what she wants and make her leave.” Kimberly walked to the front door to open it for her ex.

While she was questioning her ex, Lauren went to the kitchen and found the back door. She quickly headed out. There was no need for Lauren to stick around. She knew Kimberly and the ex would probably start fighting if the ex knew Lauren was there. Lauren walked out into the backyard. It was huge with a big pool and a jacuzzi. She went around the house and began walking home. She checked her phone, it was 3 in the morning. Lauren decided to walk to Jennifer’s house to get her jeep. She got there about 30 minutes later, Jennifer wasn’t back yet. Lauren figured she went home with some guy. Lauren got in her jeep and headed home.

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Family Wedding Ch. 1

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Blowjob

Family Wedding

I arrive at the hotel where my cousin is getting married at 1PM the day before the wedding. I have flown half way around the world to attend this after being out of town on business for 11 weeks. I am exhausted, jet lagged and horny. I have basically worked non-stop and have been looking forward to the wedding and then a few days off to recharge my batteries and regain some balance in my life.

When I arrive at the front desk to check in, I find that I am sharing a room with one of the bridesmaids. I know my mother has had a hand in this. While it is sweet of her to try to save me some money, the thought of sharing a room with a person I have never met is not appealing. But rather than get angry, I trudge up to my room, unpack my clothes, change in to tee shirt and panties, and fall into a big comfy king size bed.

I awake later with a start when I hear sounds in the room. I sit up in bed to find a woman struggling with a large suitcase trying her maneuver it onto a chair. Although she is trying her best to be quiet and not disturb me. When she realizes I am awake, she asks me if it ok for her to turn on a light. I groggily respond yes. As I blink to adjust my eyes to the light, the girl introduces herself as Jacqueline. I reach out and take her proffered hand and tell her my name is Jacqui.

We both laugh at the fact that we share the same name. She apologizes for waking me. I feel silly and tell her it is not a problem that I am just recovering from a case of jetlag. I explain that I have flown halfway around the world and am adjusting to a new time zone. Jacqueline drops her suitcases and announces she has the perfect remedy for me. She reaches into her purse and pulls out a big, fat joint and proceeds to light it. After several deep tokes, she passes it to me. I take a hit and begin coughing my brains out. She laughs at me and offers to give me a shotgun. Without waiting for a reply, she climbs on the bed and move to me. As she moves close to me, she rests an arm on my shoulder and moves her lip inches from mine and begins to blow the smoke into my mouth. I take as much as I can and lean back to get away. This unbalances Jacqueline and we both fall back with her ending on top of me. My mind explodes as the drugs kick in and I begin to laugh. Jacqueline clumsily moves off me and continues by taking another hit. She places the joint in the ashtray and then lies next to me.

We tell each other our life stories quickly. I find out that she is a freshman in a local college and knows my cousin from school. We lie together and after some conversation, Jacqueline asks me if I am aware of our problem. I have no idea what she is talking about and tell her so. She lifts up on an elbow and tells me that the room only has one bed. Her point takes a few minutes to seep into my hazy brain but it finally does. I pick up the phone, call the front desk and tell them our problem. They try to be helpful but the hotel is fully booked and there is nothing they can do to help. I hang up the phone, and tell her what I have learned. After a moment’s thought I ask her if she snores and she laughs and replies that she doesn’t snore but she tells me she is used to sleeping alone. I look at her to see if she’s serious and find that she is. I tell her that I am willing if she is. She agrees to try it and gets up and begins to put away her clothes.

I climb out of bed and after looking at the clock tell her that I am going to shower. Casibom The rehearsal dinner is in 2 hours. I go into the bathroom, close the door, undress and climb into the shower. The warm water feels good on my skin and reinvigorates me. I wash and shampoo myself and then sit down in the shower to shave my pussy. I have been clean-shaven for over a year now and enjoy the feeling of my naked flesh. I carefully shave myself and then liberally apply baby oil to the entire area so it won’t burn from the razor. I look up and see that Jacqueline has come into the bathroom and is putting away her toilet articles. She sees me sitting in the shower and asks me if I am ok.

I tell her that I am. She asks me what I am doing and I tell her. She expresses surprise and hesitantly asks me if it hurts to shave there. I reply that it doesn’t hurt at all and I find it very arousing. We continue to talk as I stand up and turn off the shower. Jacqueline hands me a towel over the top of the enclosure and I towel off as she continues to ask me about shaving. I wrap the towel around me and step out of the shower. She is sitting on the toilet talking to me.

I grab another towel and begin to dry my long hair. I look over at her and see her staring at me. I realize that my pussy must be showing since my arms are raised over my head. I feel her eyes on my pussy and the realization causes my pussy starts to lubricate as I watch her look at my cute, shaved pussy. I move over to her and lift her chin up with my hand and ask her if she likes what she sees. I reach down and take her hand and guide it to my mons and let her fingers stroke me. I shiver as her finger touches my skin and I can feel my pussy really begin to lubricate. I continue to direct her fingers along my mons and I look into her eyes. I am horny now and decide to force the issue with my new friend. I take her hand and direct it between my legs so she can feel my wetness. Jacqueline gasps as her fingers slide between my wet pussy lips.

I lean forward and take her chin in my other hand and lean close to her and tell her she has me really turned on. She nods her head in agreement. I remove her hand from my pussy and pull her out of the bathroom and to the bed. When we stop, I take her hand and return it to my pussy. Her hand begins to caress me. My hand guides her around my pussy as my pussy responds to our caresses. I spread my legs and close my eyes as her fingers begin to really caress me. She really has me turned on and it seems like seconds before I am moaning as our fingers drive me to climax. I hear myself shrieking as our fingers bring me off. I collapse onto the bed as I try to regain my breath. When I finally clear the stars from my eyes I look up at her and whisper my thanks.

She replies that she has never done anything like that before. I tell her she is a natural at it. I ask her if she would like me to return the favor. She shakes her head no. I look at her closely for the first time and realize that she has a very cute, petite body. She turns quickly and tells me she is going to take a shower. With a rush she leaves the room.

I sit up and wonder what has just happened. Clearly she acts as if she has never done anything like this before but she certainly knew how to bring me to a raging climax in seconds. Unable to figure out what is going on, I head in to talk further with her. I open the bathroom door and find Jacqueline furiously fingering herself sitting on the toilet. I Casibom Giriş quickly move over by her and grab her wrist. She looks at me in shock as I tell her that I can help. Without waiting for an answer, I push her legs apart and push my greedy tongue into her open pussy. As I push my tongue up into her opening, her hips reflexively tighten around my head. My tongue slurps her juices as I wiggle my tongue inside her. I continue to thrust my tongue into her as her hips push up forcing my tongue further inside her. Her hand grabs my head and pushes my further into her pussy. I hear her moaning as her hips begin to dance against my tongue. I decide to tease her so I pull back and look up at her.

Her hooded eyes look at me in frustration as her hips and hands try to return my tongue between her legs. She asks me why am I stopping and tells me she is close to cumming. I tell her I want to tease her a little. She begs me to lick her because she is really close and needs to come. I sit up straight and take one of her tiny hard nipples into my mouth and roughly tongue and nip her. She moans in response. I ask her if she likes what I am doing and she nods her head. I take her other nipple into my mouth and worry it between my teeth as I flick it with my tongue. Her moans are really loud and echo off the tile walls of the room. Her hips are thrusting against my tummy as she desperately tries to get some friction on her horny clit. Her moans and pleading finally convince me to move back down and give her pussy the tonguing it needs to get her off. I use my fingers to spread open her pussy lips and I find her clit hard, red and pulsing. I lean forward and suck it greedily between my lips. Her hips flex off the toilet seat as she moans loudly. My tongue rapidly flicks her clit as I feel her thighs lock my head between them. Her hips immediately begin to jerk spasmodically as her orgasm begins.

She shrieks as I release her clit and move down to her opening and greedily lick her sweet juices. Her orgasm is strong as I feel her pussy opening continue to contract around my tongue rhythmically. Finally, after several minutes, her hips open and she collapses back onto the toilet seat. My hands on her ass save her from falling onto the floor. I watch as she tries to catch her breath and recover from her orgasm.

This chick came really hard and she clearly needed a release. I decide to push a little harder and ask her if she liked what had just happened. Jacqueline gently shakes her head yes. I ask her if she would like some more. She replies that she is sore and couldn’t possibly take any more. I smile at her and tell her she is wrong. I lean forward and let my tongue gently circle her pussy opening. I look up at her and ask her if that hurts. She looks down and me and shakes her head no. I return to her opening and continue to run my tongue around it; gently circling as my tongue lightly caresses her skin.

When my tongue tastes her fresh, dewy discharge, I gently spoon my tongue into her opening to taste more. As my tongue continues to gently lick around her walls, I feel her hands grasp my head. This is the signal I have been waiting for. I let her hands lift my head up towards her clit. She gasps as my tongue flicks out to touch her. I slowly run my tongue around her clit, spreading her pussy lips with my fingers to expose her tender love bud. I focus on her clitoris, running my tongue in circles around it, flicking my tongue against it Casibom Güncel Giriş pushing in under the hood. Jacqueline’s sighs escalate to moans then screams as another orgasm overtakes her.

This time I don’t stop and as her orgasm begins, I move down and suck her fresh juices from her. Her hips thrust up against my tongue as her pussy spasms. I’m not sure if one orgasm ended and another begins or if she has one incredibly long orgasm. She finally pushes my face away from her and begs me to stop. I look up at her smile. My face is covered with her juices and I run my tongue around my mouth to taste her. I sit up and wrap my arms around her back and snuggle her to me. Her arms wrap around my neck as her breathing slowly returns to normal.

We stay like that for several minutes. I let go and stand up. I stick my head out of the bathroom and see that the rehearsal dinner starts in forty minutes. I tell Jacqueline that I am jumping back into the shower since I reek of sex and invite her to join me. I restart the shower, grab a bar of soap. I am nearly clean when Jacqueline opens the door to join me. I offer her space under the shower and begin to soap her back. Jacqueline is mostly out of it so I quickly run the wash cloth over her back and legs and then tell her to turn around. I wash her legs, tummy and breasts and then move the wash cloth down to her crotch. I gently spread her legs and begin to wash her pussy. I carefully wash her and then stand up. I tell her to turn around again and I begin to apply shampoo to her hair.

I shampoo her short hair and push her under the stream of water. I climb out of the shower and begin to dry off. I towel dry my hair and then use the hair dryer to style it. I head out into the room to put on my lingerie and then return to the bathroom to put on my makeup and find Jacqueline still in the shower. I open the door, reach in and turn off the shower and throw a towel at her and tell her to stop wasting time. She is still in another world. I don’t know if it was the dope or the sex but if she doesn’t get her act together she will miss the dinner. My words finally spur her into action and she begins to franticly dry herself. I watch her dry herself and then she begins to use the hair dryer. I finish applying my makeup and go to the closet to put on my dress. I am dressed and putting on my shoes when Jacqueline exits the bathroom. I watch as she puts on her bra and panties and then move to the closet. She dresses in a cute, short black miniskirt, pantyhose and a white linen blouse.

When she is fully clothed she turns to me and thanks me for the awesome sex. I tell her I enjoyed it also. She asks me if I expect her to return the favor and I tell her we’ll see what happens. She then drops a bomb and confesses that she is a virgin and has never experienced sex like what just happened. I ask her if she never had sex with a woman before or she never had sex with another partner before. She replies that she has never had sex with another partner before. I move over to her, wrap my arms around her and tell her I will be happy to help her with her sex education.

She asks me if I am surprised that she is a virgin. I reply honestly that I find it very arousing and look forward to spending more time with her. I ask her if she would like to continue later and she nods her head. I rub her back and tell her we need to get downstairs. She wraps her hands around my waist and gives me an air kiss on my cheek. I let go of her, grab her hand and pull her out the door. I tell her we will have plenty of time after the rehearsal dinner.

We leave the room together and head down to the dinner. My mind is already plotting the next steps in Jacqueline’s education.

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Colony Art Theatre

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Asian

Inspired by a friend’s experience…

***

Johnny Wadd. That was the title of the feature at the first porn theatre I had ever gone to, and that was a day I will never forget. It was sometime in 1974, and I had just turned 18. To celebrate I decided to go to this theatre in Schenectady, New York called the Colony Art Theatre.

I don’t know where the “Art” part of the name came from, because all they showed was porn. The theatre was rundown and the quality of the movie prints was bad, but I didn’t know any better and furthermore I didn’t care.

I didn’t go alone on that weekday afternoon in June. My friend Alan came up with me, and even drove, but when we got there we encountered a problem. Alan couldn’t get in. Although he looked older than I did, Alan wasn’t quite 18 yet, and when the guy at the ticket counter hit us up for ID, Alan was screwed.

I went back outside with him, not wanting to go alone, but he insisted I go see the movie without him, telling me I could take the bus home and tell him all about it. I didn’t want to, but I kept looking over at the movie poster, and finally I gave in

“Sorry kid,” the grubby looking guy said as he looked at my Baptism Certificate which was going to serve as my proof until I got my draft card. “Cops have been busting our ass lately.”

I told him that was okay, fumbling to put my proof away while another man waited patiently behind me to pay, and then I was inside.

It was so dark that I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face at first, but as my eyes adjusted to the lack of light I staggered down the aisle a few rows and moved to the end of a row of seats, hoping that I wasn’t going to sit on somebody lap.

Up on the screen, there was flesh. Naked flesh and lots of it. The women were gorgeous of course, especially for someone who had never seen a real live one yet, but one of the actors caught my eye, and for good reason. It had to be the guy my more knowledgeable friend knew about, John Holmes, who Alan had told me had a dick “even bigger than yours”.

That was crazy, since mine was only big compared to my friend’s, and the thing that was swinging between the horse-faced actor’s legs looked inhuman. As the film went on I came to realize that I was every bit as excited by Mr. Holmes as I was with the girls he was sinking that log into.

At that point in my life I was sure than I was straight, and only had a few dalliances with guys when girls were unavailable. Maybe I had been kidding myself up until then, but as my jeans got more and more cramped I learned more and more about me.

Finally I could stand it no longer and got ready to pull my cock out and jerk off, hoping that in the darkness of the sparsely filled room I would go unnoticed, but just as I started to unzip I saw a figure coming toward me down the aisle.

“Shit,” I whispered to myself as the shape got closer, although I had to admit that in the darkness I had been nearly blind too.

“Sorry,” the voice mumbled when he bumped into me, but then instead of moving back down the aisle he plopped down next to me.

I couldn’t believe my bad luck. There had to be a thousand seats in the place and I could only see about a dozen heads silhouetted in the aisles in front of me. I was trapped, with the wall on my right side and this guy on my left, so I sat and fidgeted while trying to figure out what to do.

“He’s something, isn’t he?” the man said to me, leaning against me and whispering in my ear.

I think I nodded, because my mouth was so dry I don’t think I let out more than a squeak when I tried to respond.

“Wish I had one like him,” the guy said, his minty breath only partially masking the fact that he smoked, but that wasn’t on my mind as his hand went onto my lap. “Don’t you?”.

I could have jumped up and scrambled out past him, or screamed at him to leave me alone, creating such a scene that he would retreat, but I did neither. Instead I sat there frozen while his hand found the bulge that had only lost a little stiffness from the shock of what was happening.

“Mmm… nice,” the stranger said as he started to rub the bulge which was heading towards my pocket.

“Please don’t,” I whimpered, but it came out so softly that I wasn’t sure he heard me until he responded.

“Why not? You like it, don’t you?” he said as his hand keep rubbing. “You got nothing to be ashamed of. Got a big one, don’t you? Bigger than mine. See?”

My hand got pried off of the arm of the chair, and while I offered a little resistance if got pulled over towards him, but Casibom instead of being put on his lap it got pulled into his pocket, which didn’t really exist.

No pocket inside the opening, and no underwear either. Just a long slender semi-erect cock, and like I had no control over what I was doing, I let him coax me into holding it.

“Just relax,” he said. “That’s it. Pull on it nice and slow.”

I didn’t relax. I stood there and pulled on a stranger’s dick inside his baggy trousers, and I let him keep squeezing and rubbing me through the denim. The jeans were tight, in the style of the times, but he didn’t do anything but rub and tease me.

How long did this go on? I don’t know. I lost all track of time. I was like a marionette, and the puppet master was in complete control. He sensed when I was about to cum and would slow down or back right off, only to go back and bring me to the brink of cumming again.

Soon I was pushing myself into his hand, sliding down into the chair in an effort to have an orgasm, even if it was in my jeans, and the stranger seemed to be enjoying my agony.

“Want to cum?” he asked a couple of times, and I kept grunting yes, but then he stopped suddenly and pulled my hand out of his trick trousers and off of his dick.

“Wait a minute and then follow me out,” he said, standing up and then leaning down to whisper. “Don’t keep me waiting. I need it as bad as you do.”

He didn’t say it in a threatening way, but in my scatterbrained condition I took it as more of a command. On the screen, the movie had ended without me knowing it, and the coming attractions were playing. I wanted to just sit where I was and finish what that stranger had started, but instead I got up and walked out of the theater.

As I passed the box office the guy that sold me the ticket chuckled when I went past him, telling me that I looked like I had fun, but it wasn’t until I got outside that I felt the dampness. Looking down I saw the massive wet stain that covered half of my lap.

I hadn’t cum, but the way my dick had drooled, it sure looked like I had. I tried the cover myself as best I could but it was hopeless, so I staggered outside into the sunlight, which blinded me after getting used to the darkness inside.

There he was, standing out near the curb. The man that had been sitting next to me, and I realized that it was the very same man that had been behind me when I bought the ticket. He didn’t look so scary in the light, and looked old enough to be may father.

Probably 50 or so, and about 5’9″ and medium weight, which was about the same as I was. He wore glasses though, and his hair was short, curly and thinning on top, whereas mine was long and strawberry blond.

“I live close by,” the man said, herding me down the street with a gentle hand. “We’ll get those jeans off of you and clean you up nice.”

If the man had been a serial killer or something similar, I would not be here to tell the tale, because I went with him like I was on a leash. We were a couple of blocks behind State Street in a matter of minutes, and walking through a shabby neighborhood.

The man took my arm and pulled me into a big pink house that had six mailboxes outside, and after he took me up a flight of stairs we entered a shabby apartment. The door closed behind us, the lock clicked shut, and then the man was grinding into my rear end from behind while undoing my belt.

“Um… mister,” I said with a dry throat that made speech difficult. “I have to go to the bathroom.”

“Ed,” the man said as he pointed to the left. “I’ll be in the room across the hall, waiting impatiently.”

I nodded and he squeezed my butt when I went past him. Inside the relative safety of the bathroom, I leaned against the door and tried to get my heart into a regular rhythm again. The guy in the mirror above the toilet looked like a deer in the headlights, and after I tinkled a little bit I flushed and tried to clean my sticky dick at the sink.

Thoughts of bolting out the door were racing through my mind as I dried myself with a worn towel, wincing as I pulled up my soggy Fruit of the Looms and pants. I wanted to run, but I also wanted to stay.

I had messed around with Andy, and with a guy in the neighborhood that was in college, but this was different. This was an adult – a real adult – not just chronologically a man, and I was in way over my head. Taking a deep breath, I stepped out of the bathroom, preparing to tell the man – Ed – that I had to go home for some reason.

Ed was in the bedroom, naked. His hand Casibom Giriş was cupped around his dick and he was pulling on it while walking around the unmade bed in the center of the room. I chickened out, not being able to tell the guy that I had to leave, not after he had his clothes off and everything.

He looked even smaller without clothes, and in his own way he looked a little like Andy in stature. The obviously differences were that while Andy’s skin was smooth a practically hairless, Ed’s skin was light brown and he was very hairy. Andy was circumcised, like me, and this man wasn’t, which was off-putting as well to someone who had never touched an uncut one.

“I get to unwrap you,” Ed said as he motioned me into the room. “I like that.”

Face to face, I was a little taller than him, but I didn’t feel that way as he ran his hands over the image of Jimi Hendrix on my t-shirt, and then his hands moved down and took the bottom of the shirt and lifted it up.

Raising my arms to allow Ed to take my shirt off, I found my hand tangled up the the garment after it went over my head. The man had twisted it up so that my hands were stuck behind my head, and I stood there tied up he smiled.

“Don’t be scared. I won’t bite, but I will nibble a little.”

With that he leaned down and started licking my nipple, making the little nub hard, and after doing the same to the other one he leaned back and smiled while keeping my hands over my head.

“A real blonde too,” he said, reaching over to run his fingers under my arm, and I was embarrassed at how drenched with perspiration I had become.

“Sweaty,” I said aloud, apologizing and hoping I didn’t smell even though I had showered earlier that day.

“You smell nice,” Ed said, reading my mind, and added, “I’ll bet you taste nice too.”

His eyes never left mine as he leaned down toward me, grinning just before running his tongue under my arm, pasting the sparse fur against my wet skin and causing my entire body to convulse.

“Like that, don’t you? I’ll have to remember that…” he asked, pausing a second before saying, “Sorry, I don’t know your name.”

“Jim – Jimmy,” I said as sweat poured down the sides of my face.

“Jimmy,” Ed repeated as he let go of the grip of my shirt and pulling it off my wrists. “Now let’s get a look at what felt so nice back at the movies.”

Ed pulled me over to the bed by my belt and sat on the edge of the mattress while dropping my snug jeans to my ankles.

“Did I do that?” Ed asked as he saw the outline of my cock in the soggy tight whiteys and ran his hand over the bulge. “I did say I would clean you up.”

I started to tell him that I had done a little cleaning back in the bathroom, but after he pulled down my underwear I soon found out what he meant.

“Look at you,” Ed said as he caressed my cock in his palm, and after a couple of strokes I was as hard as blue steel despite my nervousness. “What a nice big cock you have!”

He was just being nice, like I always was with Andy, because mine was not all that big. In fact, looking down at Ed stroking himself with his free hand I could tell that there wasn’t really much difference between the two of us length-wise, although his was a lot skinnier. Whatever the reason, he was making me feel less nervous, and when he leaned forward and started to lick the opening on the tip of the bell-shaped head, I was feeling something even better.

“Sweet,” Ed sighed as he leaned back and let the string of pre-cum on his tongue fall back on his chin.

“Aw!” I groaned as he went back to licking the slit.

“You want to cum, don’t you Jimmy?” he asked while looked up at my face, which probably reflected the sweet agony I was in as my eyes burned from the sweat pouring into them.

“Can’t – hold it,” I grunted.

“I don’t want you to,” Ed said calmly before opening his mouth and letting his lips slide slowly over the head and down the shaft until his forehead was brushing against my pubes, and whatever he was doing with his tongue was working too well.

I came, and came hard, having to grab Ed’s shoulders so I didn’t fall down as my orgasm was my whole body shake. Ed kept sucking, and didn’t stop until I went completely limp in his mouth.

Ed got up, and after I looked at his erection bouncing in front of him, asked him if he wanted me to do that to him too.

“Maybe later,” Ed said as he had me lay on the bed face down. “Right now I just want to play with you. You don’t mind, do you?”

I didn’t mind because Ed’s hands felt so Casibom Güncel Giriş good as they massaged my back and shoulders, his fingers digging deep in my flesh as he straddled me. I loved the way his hairy legs rubbed against my hips, and when he leaned down I could feel his cock sliding up and down the crack of my ass.

“You like that, don’t you Jimmy?” Ed asked, and I was about to tell him that this was something my friend liked to do to me, slipping his dick up and down the fold between my cheeks until he came, but then Ed’s hands left my back.

“What a sweet ass.”

I felt something wet being pressed between my ass cheeks, and then a greasy finger found my anus and forced itself inside the taut ring.

“Here we go,” Ed said as I started to turn around to find out what was going on, only to have Ed fall onto me, and with that felt something bigger than a finger squeeze inside of me.

“OW!” I cried, squirming in an effort to get out from under him, but he was too heavy and even though I cried out he kept pushing that long thin cock of his into my ass.

“What’s wrong?” he asked after fully impaling me.

“It hurts,” I whimpered, and I guess it was about then when Ed realized that what had just happened was a first for me.

“Sorry,” Ed said, although he wasn’t sorry enough to take his dick out of me, but as he rested on top of me I got used to the feel of him in my virgin ass, and when the pain ebbed the feeling was replaced by something different. “I didn’t know. Cute kid with a sweet bubble butt like yours still cherry? Unreal.”

“I’m sorry about crying,” I said. “It just felt so big.”

“Never heard that before,” Ed chuckled. “Kinda like hearing that. Do you want me to stop?”

I could have said no, but I didn’t. Instead I just lay there with him inside of me, catching my breath, and then I felt him pull his dick almost all the way out before sliding it all the way back in me.

“You like it now, don’t you?” Ed asked, correctly guessing that the way I groaned and my body shook indicated I was starting to like it, a lot.

Clawing at the bedding, I kept moaning as Ed rocked back and forth, and I cried out again when Ed pulled all the way out.

“Let’s get you up here,” Ed said as he got me up on my hands and knees, and after lubricating me some more, put his dick back in me with less effort than the initial time.

“Oh man,” I groaned as Ed started slowly moving in and out of me, and it started feeling better and better as he thrust faster and deeper.

“You’re so tight, Jimmy,” Ed moaned while leaning down over my back and reaching his hands around me to squeeze my nipples. “Still hurt?”

“No,” I grunted, as now I was wishing that his cock was bigger, wondering what that Johnny Wadd’s monstrous organ would feel like if he could force it inside my butt.

“Oh yeah, you do like it!” Ed hissed as his hand moved down and found my cock, which was so hard it was curling up toward my stomach.

Ed’s hand wrapped around my cock, and soon his fist was jerking me off hard while his dick was pounding into my ass like a piston. It was all so good – his hand, his cock and the feel of his hairy chest against my back – and I didn’t last long even though I had cum just a little while ago.

I looked down at my dick spurting cum wildly over the bedding, and as I came I heard Ed groan above me while a warmth filled my bowels. Just like that, it was over. Ed’s deflating dick slithered out of me, and then we eased down into the sticky sheets, while Ed kept milking me as if to drain me dry.

“Hope you liked it as much as I did,” Ed said while hugging me from behind.

“Yeah,” I said, and after a minute I told him that if he wanted to do it again, I was more than willing.

“Wish I could,” Ed said. “What I was your age – boy what I would give to be 18 again – but it takes a while for me to reload. Besides, my wife will be home in a while. Better clean up and get ready to take off, Jimmy.”

Ed was married, and it wasn’t until then that I noticed a picture on the dresser of him and a plump woman that looked like the maid on that TV show, Hazel.

Reluctantly I got out of the bed and gave myself a little clean up in the sink before putting on my jeans, which had mostly dried, and rejoining Ed out in the hall.

“Maybe we can get together again sometime,” Ed said as he showed me to the door, and just like that I was out on the street.

I made my way out to the street, heading in the general direction of the Colony Art Theater, but after a brief mental debate about going back in to see more of Johnny Wadd, I opted to catch the bus and head home.

After all, I had a lot to tell my friend Andy, and maybe I could coax him into letting me explain it to him in ways more interesting than the verbal method.

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Coffee with Charlie

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Blowjob

Rich Wilson had moved into a seniors apartment complex, relocating after the house he had shared with his wife of 36 years became too much after her passing. At 63 Rich had no illusions about finding a new love, even though the equipment still worked quite well, so he settled into his new digs with no expectations.

Almost immediately Rich was befriended by Charlie Robinson, a silver haired fellow about his age who was going to be his neighbor, and the genial gent even helped him move in. Rich liked the guy even though his outgoing personality was almost the exact opposite of his own.

There was something about Charlie Robinson though, nothing Rich could put his finger on at first but the more they interacted the more Rich was sure he was correct. Charlie Robinson was gay.

It wasn’t from anything he had said about himself, because other than mentioning that he too had lost his wife a few years earlier he hadn’t made any indication of his sexuality. Rich had concluded that maybe Charlie was bisexual.

Nothing wrong with that in Rich’s eyes, since he was as well, or at least that was the way he looked at himself. While he had not been with a man since he met his wife 40 years ago, before then Rich had as many male lovers as female.

Many of those male lovers back then were gentleman who were as old as Charlie, since Rich’s baby face and good looks seemed to appeal to the more mature fellows. Rich was no longer a baby faced teen but was in decent shape for a guy his age.

Charlie was a rather handsome fellow as well, at about 6′ and bit more than 200 pounds considerably larger than Rich, and Charlie had a neatly trimmed goatee than made him look like a professor Rich once had. Rich had to admit he had found himself fantasizing about his neighbor from time to time, although Rich knew he would never be the one to make the first move because that wasn’t in him.

But what if Charlie did? Rich wondered exactly what he would do if what could have easily been construed as just friendly pats on the back or playful squeezes of the shoulder were actually something else altogether?

That question was answered one Wednesday morning when Rich was out on the patio, enjoying the morning sun with a cup of coffee and the newspaper, when the sound of his neighbor’s sliding door opening changed everything.

As Rich tells it…

********

“Howdy neighbor!”

The deep baritone of my outgoing neighbor had me smiling even before I lifted my eyes from the paper, making me wonder how anybody could be that jovial before noon, but that was Charlie. “How they hanging?”

“Good morning Charlie,” I called over the short distance between our patios, the design of the building making everyone’s little porches rather private except for the one adjoining apartment, and I was happy that Charlie was the one I was forced to be familiar with.

As Charlie talked about the outcomes of games I had only moderate interest in, I hid my amusement regarding my new friend’s lack of modesty, because while no one could really see our second floor apartment patios unless they were creeping through the wetlands in back of the building and I didn’t mind coming out in my pajamas myself, Charlie seemed to delight in outdoing me.

Charlie was wearing a robe, some kind of silky red thing with flaming oriental designs on it, but unlike myself Charlie wore no pajamas underneath it, and just as he had before he made no effort to keep it more than slightly closed, leaving much of his husky body exposed.

As I had done before I showed my lack of disgust by looking, subtly I hoped while we chatted. My eyes took in the parts I could see; Charlie’s barrel chest that was covered with a mat of mostly grey hair with dark brown mixed in, the plump man boobs with rather enormous nipples that the hair could not hide, his round belly and of course what was below.

That part of him was something he was obviously proud of, and I couldn’t blame him for that. If that fat brown uncut cock was attached to me I would probably be displaying it myself, and as the subject changed to my moving-in progress I couldn’t help wondering whether Charlie was testing the waters.

The thought had crossed my mind before, and just as then I wished I had some of Charlie’s openness. The pleasure of a man’s flesh was something I was not unfamiliar with, although except for one wayward moment during my 36 years of marriage, all of those other gay experiences had been back when I was single.

The one thing all of my homosexual experiences had in common was that I was never the aggressor. All I would do was stand there and act all shy and innocent playing the part of the twink even though I wasn’t familiar with the term, but in fact the shyness was always genuine with the innocence part there only in the beginning. If it was left up to me I would likely to have been a virgin my entire life. Even my late wife had to come on to me because I was so lacking in self-confidence.

So I would stand there at a bar or a party or even on the Casibom street, and men would be all over me. Why I don’t know because I was not remarkable in any way, although I guess I had a kind of boyish charm. Whatever the reason men – especially older men – were attracted. It was like I had a sign on my back announcing that was theirs for the taking, and for a short period of time I didn’t say no.

That was in my rear view mirror though but now as a widower I was faced with something I hadn’t had to deal with in almost three decades. I was alone and had no one to hold at night or any other time. Pillows had proven to be a poor substitute, but I think that if my equipment didn’t still work as well as it did it wouldn’t have been so bad.

At 63 I found myself masturbating just about every day, just like in my youth, usually in the shower while thinking about Elizabeth, although I confess to thinking about other people as well.

Charlie was the subject of a very pleasant wank one night the week before as I jerked off while thinking about the very cock I was trying not to look at from across the way, imagining this hirsute older fellow seducing me like many men his age had done in the distant past.

“I’m okay,” I told him as I finally answered. “At the rate I’m unpacking boxes I’ll probably be dead before I get done, but I’ve got the essentials unloaded and put away.”

“Back still bothering you?”

“A little, but that’s nothing new,” I replied.

“That offer still stands,” Charlie reminded me. “I’ve got magical hands and may I remind you that I was a trainer for a local semi-pro football team for years.”

“It’s tempting,” I answered like I had before.

“I have this incredible massage lotion going to waste over here,” I responded. “Coconut Mango. You’ll think you’re in the tropics while your aches and pains disappear.”

“Well…”

“Come on.”

“Let me get dressed,” I said as I got up, but Charlie blew that off.

“Come as you are. Those pajamas are like a sweat suit,” Charlie said. “Or I could come over there.”

“No,” I laughed, knowing that this guy would probably waltz down the few feet to my door with that robe wide open. “I’ll be there in a second.”

As I went to get a robe to put on, I started thinking about what I was doing. There was a chance I was wrong, although I doubted it. He had stood there practically announcing to me – come over and take this cock – and I guess I had given him an answer.

I rubbed a little deodorant on, wishing I took a shower in the mornings like I had during my working years instead of evenings, but after taking a deep breath opened my door and peek out into the hallway before walking quickly next door.

The door opened just as I was about to knock, with Charlie with the robe mercifully closed up welcoming me inside his place, and after offering me a coffee or juice, which I declined, asked me if I was up for a Screwdriver.

“It’s ten in the morning,” I laughed as I got a slap on the back, and then he was telling me to go into his bedroom and get ready.

“Take off your pajamas and things,” he replied after I told him I didn’t know how one got ready for a massage.

I went into his bedroom and grabbed a towel I saw on the dresser, using it to wrap around my naked body after I shed the robe and pajamas, and after I climbed into the warm unmade bed I tried to get my heart to beat a little slower.

“I’m glad I didn’t bother making the bed,” Charlie mentioned. “Soft huh?”

“What?”

“The sheets. 1800 thread count sheets,” Charlie informed me. “I sleep in the nude so it’s worth splurging. Smell this.”

“Nice,” I said as he held the bottle under my nose for a second before splashing some into his meaty paw.

“Shy fellow huh? Peek-a-boo,” Charlie chuckled as he lifted the towel up. “Cute little butt. My butt used to be perky and cute like that, but then I turned 3.”

I chuckled too as his hearty laugh filled the room, and then after telling me to relax I felt the touch of another man once again as his greased paws worked over my feet.

Despite my being terrified, Charlie’s kneading fingers began to work, as as the hands went up my ankles and up to my calves I began to actually relax a little. By the time he reached my lower thighs I was a believer.

“You know, I wish I was a football player,” I told him as his fingers dug into my thighs. “It would have been worth getting battered for something like this.”

“Confession time,” Charlie said. “That was bullshit, the part about being a trainer for a team.”

“Oh.”

“I only told you that to get you into my bed,” Charlie said, and my hands reflexively gripped the 1800 thread count sheets at hearing those words. “This isn’t the first time you’ve been in a man’s bed, is it Rich?”

“No, but it’s been years – decades,” I reluctantly admitted as his hands went up higher on my thighs.

“Thought so. I have a sixth sense about that sort of thing,” Charlie replied. “All those years you were married Casibom Giriş – you were never tempted?”

“Sure I was, but only did something once.”

“I’m all ears. I love a juicy story.”

“Not much to tell. I was friendly with a neighbor a long time ago and we had a couple drinks over in his man cave. The conversation turned to life experiences, and when I admitted to having done things with guys he asked me what it was like because he was curious,” I confessed. “The next thing I do we’re giving each other head.”

“Felt guilty?” Charlie asked as he nudged the towel aside and worked my buttocks.

“Yes. So much so that a few years later me and Elizabeth had a little retreat and I admitted it.”

“Her reaction?”

“She laughed.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, and after she stopped laughing she told me that when she went on her 20th anniversary high school reunion – something I couldn’t travel with her to – she met somebody that she used to sleep with a lot, and she ended up in bed with her.”

“Her?” Charlie chortled.

“Yeah. For whatever reason that made it all right with me,” I admitted. “It wasn’t like she was getting something I could give her, and I guess that was the same way it was with me.”

“I had my flings with guys all during my marriage. With my wife’s consent,” Charlie said as those magic fingers worked up my back and shoulders. “She knew I was rather oversexed and I didn’t want to go behind her back. She was fine with it as long as I played safe and also let her have her fun. In her case her outlet was slot machines.”

“I see.”

“It might have been cheaper financing gigolos,” he laughed as the knots in my neck and shoulders disappeared, and then he told me to roll over.

“On my back?” I mumbled, not knowing whether this was part of a massage.

“You don’t toast bread on just one side,” I was informed, and although I was plenty anxious, after all the man had just massaged my ass, so I rolled over, careful to gather the towel around my lower extremities as best I could.

“You know that towel is going away soon,” Charlie told me as he knelt by my side. “Stretch back for me.”

“That’s good,” Charlie said as he oiled up his hands again, and as he prepared to massage my shoulders he smiled at the smooth skin of my exposed underarms.

“You shave your armpits Rich?” Charlie asked as his fingers kneaded the tender flesh under my arms.

“No,” I mumbled in embarrassment, squirming as he played with my shoulders. “Not really.”

“I sense a story here,” Charlie said.

“Well, back after we got married I suggest to Elizabeth that it would really turn me on if she didn’t shave her armpits,” I related.

“Another child of the sixties.”

“Exactly. Well, she was reluctant because it wasn’t really fashionable any more and she saw herself as being rather hairy,” I continued. “I told Elizabeth that it was only hair, so what did it matter? She countered by telling me that if hair was no big deal, she would go ahead and let hers grow as long as I shaved mine in exchange. I wasn’t eager about that so I said I didn’t know how, and she said she would shave them for me.”

“Wonderful,” Charlie exclaimed.

“It was compromise I guess. She agreed to stop shaving after Labor Day and only start shaving come Spring,” I admitted. “It evolved to me being the one to shave her armpits once the weather got warm, and we made it a ceremony because not only did Elizabeth enjoy me doing it, it turned me on as well.”

“And she kept shaving your armpits?”

“No. For whatever reason it never grew back after that time,” I lamented. “Kind of embarrassing on the beach but it was worth it for me to see Elizabeth’s armpits unshaven, and she had been right because by the holidays she sure was furry. It was our little secret every year because she would never wear sleeveless things in winter. End of story.”

“I loved it,” Charlie exclaimed as his fingers left my armpits and moved over to my chest. “And I think you loved telling it.”

“I guess.”

“I could tell because you raised a tent down there,” Charlie said, and as I looked over his hands I saw that my towel had risen up a bit over my privates. “Makes me want to go camping.”

“I think you’d be rather disappointed,” I told him as he tweaked my nipples playfully.

“Your thinking would be mistaken,” Charlie assured me. “I suppose I could flick the towel off and prove that to you, but maybe if I got rid of this you’d feel more comfortable.

What he meant by that was shrugging that silk robe off of his shoulders, and although I looked the other way there was something about that robe sailing over the other side of the bed that made me shiver.

“I’m no Matt Damon but I can’t be that bad,” Charlie told me as my intentionally not looking was obvious, and so I reluctantly looked toward him, and although I tried to look in his eyes I couldn’t help myself.

The coconut scent overwhelmed the faint mango in the lotion, and I’d like to think Casibom Güncel Giriş it was that aroma that was making me dizzy but I knew better. It was the hands responsible, that and the sight of this burly bear at my hip that was making me light headed, and when my gaze went to the now semi-erect penis with the pink tip of the bulbous knob peeking out at me from beneath the ragged brown shroud I shivered even though the room was warm.

“How is it?” Charlie asked me while rubbing my chest and stomach.

“Rather impressive,” I admitted as I looked at my neighbor’s large member and meaty scrotum. “Intimidating too I have to admit, but then again I’ve always suffered from penis envy.”

“I was referring to my massage Rich,” Charles chortled. “Although I find your confession interesting, especially since you’re in so much better shape than I am that it’s embarrassing.”

“As for size, I have to tell you that it’s vastly overrated,” Charlie continued. “If it works, that’s way more important than size, and the way that tent keeps rising seems to answer that question. You have piqued my interest however.”

I was frozen in place, unable to stop Charlie or even protest when he took hold of the towel and slid it off me.

“Nice,” Charlie was saying as the hand that had been oiling my stomach moved downward, through the light brown tuft of hair above my dick, avoiding my modest member as it stood up straight and proud while I strained to make it look bigger than it was.

Charlie knee-walked around to get between my legs and then parted them wide, his hands massaging all around my dick but not touching it and leaving it quivering and begging to be touched, the mushroom head’s skin so taut it looked ready to pop.

“You like your massage so far?” Charlie asked as his hands slid up my stomach and back down.

“Yes, despite how embarrassed I am,” I conceded as I looked down at my erection with Charlie’s member swaying nearby providing a stark contrast.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Charlie told me. “You’re in incredible shape. You’re trim and toned and look great. Me? I’m a fat old guy who looks old enough to be your father.”

“If I could only get that hard again,” Charlie lamented as he looked down at my pulsating member whose tip had a creamy white cap on it, and when he took himself in hand and rubbed the tip of his cock against mine the sensation almost made me lose it.

“Omigod,” I groaned, my humiliation about how his manhood dwarfed mine disappearing as my entire body shook as if there was electricity involved in the penis caress, and out of the blue I said, “Mr. Robinson, are you trying to seduce me?”

“Richie, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship,” Charlie chuckled, countering my quote from The Graduate with A Casablanca of his own, and when I nodded in recognition he bent down and took me into his mouth.

I almost lost it when my neighbor’s wet lips slid from the gooey tip right down to the base, deep-throating me with no problem, and I struggled to stay in control because despite all my trepidation this felt way beyond good.

Charlie had his head down, revealing the thinning silver hair on top of his bobbing skull, and I noticed for the first time that my neighbor’s back was almost as hairy as his chest and just like that was mostly grey.

Charlie soon slid down into the bedding, his head moving slowly as he sucked my dick, pausing a couple times to look at the glistening prong and lick along the underside before swallowing me once again.

I felt his hand pulling my nuts up a bit, and after he rolled them around I felt something strange – strange in a incredibly nice way – and although I couldn’t see what he was doing I could figure it out.

With my dick in his mouth right to the roots, he was moving his face a bit from side to side, scraping his goatee against my wrinkled nut sack, and this totally new experience was soon causing something I didn’t want to happen, happen.

“Charlie!” I cried out, trying to warn him that I was about to cum, but he didn’t seem to care and only sucked harder while continuing with the grinding of my nuts into his bristly facial growth.

It’s tough to rate orgasms but the one Charlie induced was way up there, and he kept sucking even after I was drained, not letting go of my nuts until I was very limp and quite little. Only then did my neighbor flick his tongue at the shriveled toadstool and rise up from the bedding.

“Amazing,” I said, shaking my head in wonder. “The goatee – that made it end a lot quicker than I wanted, but it was unbelievable the way that felt. That was a new one for me.”

“Glad you liked it,” Charlie said as he straightened up his kneeling position and contorted his back. “I might have enjoyed it as much as you did.”

“Apparently,” I said as I watched his cock sticking out almost straight, the beige foreskin having slid back to expose almost all of the reddish glans. “Now I hope I remember well enough to reciprocate.”

“Okay, if you insist,” Charlie chortled as he threw himself on the mattress next to me in a mockery of his grudging reluctance act, the bed rollicking in the wake as I got up onto my knees and looked down while he assured me, “I’m sure it will be like riding a bike.”

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Chris Donaldson Ch. 05

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Babes

This story is about Chris and Justin, roommates and sophomores in college. Chris, only recently out to himself, began the new school year very eager for his first sexual experience. Justin, a dominant frat jock, was happy to provide that first experience, and quickly turned Chris into his live-in sub. Justin has a violent streak, however, which drove Chris briefly into the arms of a nicer guy in his late 20s, Mark, who took Chris’ anal virginity, but broke off contact a week later. Chris returned to Justin, and they recommenced their exploration of D/s sex. The shadow of one more man hangs over them – Mason, a senior. He is their RA, and also in the same fraternity as Justin. He has discovered Chris’ submissive desires, and has administered two very severe punishments to Chris’ bare ass, with hand, strop, and most recently, a cane. This chapter contains some corporal punishment. All characters in this story are over 18.

*****

The bar door banged shut. A tall man in his late 20s with short, dark hair and a neatly trimmed beard walked in, shaking the drops from his umbrella. A sudden March storm had caught him outside and on foot; rather than braving it for another six blocks to the subway, he had decided to take refuge in the nearest doorway. Which happened to be this dive bar – Ted’s. He had moved to the big city after graduating from college five years ago, and had spent a lot of time exploring it, but he had never wandered in here before. It looked like you could pick up an STD from sitting on one of the stools. Oh well. At least the place was open and dry. And empty, too. No, not quite. There was one other guy at the bar, who honestly looked too young to be there. He was handsome, though – shaved head, the confident look of an athlete. College, most likely. He looked like he probably came from money. What was he doing in this shithole? Interesting.

Mark took off his raincoat and draped it over a barstool. He sat down next to it, and made eye contact with the bartender, who was about his own age, stocky, and bear-like, with a withdrawn look.

Probably on something, Mark thought.

Not confident in how a mixed drink might turn out here, he ordered a Laphroaig. Neat.

“Ten year?” asked Jayson.

“Ten is fine.”

Mark glanced at the musclehead down the bar while he waited for his drink. The dude was playing with his phone. Too young for you, he thought. You already made that mistake once, a few months ago. Don’t do it again.

He turned to his own phone, and idly opened his favorite hookup app. Who was nearby? He wasn’t usually in this neighborhood at this time; there might be someone new and interesting.

Nope. No one hot close by. Who were you hoping to find, the stud over there? Mark chuckled to himself.

There was his scotch. He sipped, happy to be warming up out of the rain.

He swiped over to “messages” on the app. None of the guys he had recently chatted with currently piqued his interest either. Viewers. Cruises. Nothing worth his time. Settings. His thumb paused over “blocks”. He put the phone down, and took another sip of his scotch. You know you’re dying to see his pics again, he thought. But I have to unblock him to see them. So? You’ve been thinking of him since Valentine’s day when he texted your cell. It’s ok to look. Mark looked at his list of blocked profiles, then tapped on “newsub2012”. Unblock. And there he was. His private pictures were still open. That fucking adorable face with the pretty eyes, topped by short, dark-blond hair; that hot round ass, pale and inviting; and what looked to be a recent pic of the nicely worked out, trim chest, all hairy again . . . Damn. He was indeed too young, but he was one hot sub.

And I took his cherry. Mark grinned, remembering. Should I text him? Why? Don’t do it unless you really want to see him again. He took hefty swallow of the Laphroaig.

At the other end of the bar, Justin nursed his third Knob Creek. The ice cube was just a sliver now. He was looking at a text from Chris on his phone. He wasn’t sure what to type. He scrolled back up the thread to reread it:

“Hey, Sir.”

“Hey, fag.”

“Where are you?”

“With my girlfriend, faggot.”

“Are you at her place?”

“What do you want?”

“I need to talk to you.”

“What’s the problem? I’ll be home later. You’ll get what you need, don’t worry. No action here tonight, you’ll get all of it from these blue balls.”

“What’s her name?”

“What do you need, boy?”

“You’ve never told me her name.”

“Tell me what you want or fuck off, faggot.”

“I need to talk to you in person.”

“Fine, I’ll be home later.”

“I need to talk to you now.”

“WHAT IS YOUR FUCKING PROBLEM?”

“I got this invitation in the mail. It’s to an event at your fraternity.”

“What the fuck?”

“Yeah. So – we can talk about it when you get back.”

“Who’s it from?”

“Mason. We can talk about it later. So you didn’t know about it?”

“No, I didn’t fucking know about it. bursa otele gelen eskort What event is it?”

“Some get-together on the 10th. It looks official.”

Justin continued to stare at the screen. The 10th was a Meet and Greet at SAE for spring rush. What the fuck was that about? Why had Mason invited Chris? Was he asking Chris to rush? There was no way Chris would ever make it in. Mason must know that, he’s a fucking officer. What’s his deal? Why is he doing this?

“So should I go?” was Chris’ last text.

“Don’t answer yet.”

Justin hammered back the last of his bourbon and considered. I can’t figure this out. What was Mason thinking? Did he really want Chris to join? Why? So he can get his jollies paddling him? But he’s already done that twice in his own dorm room.

But not recently. Justin’s handsome jock face pulled into a smirk. Chrissy gets his spankings from me now. So Mason wants more of Chris’ ass? Justin tried to picture his roommate as a brother.

Well . . . it might actually be hot. Don’t write it off yet. Let’s think about this some more.

“Hey, Jayson.” The bartender sauntered over; Mark looked up at the other end of the bar. “One more, bro.”

Jayson gave Justin a mildly reproving look, but dutifully went to pour another bourbon. Justin took a gulp, and rubbed his temples. This was all getting very complicated. He poked absently at his phone, thumbing over to his photo album.

A photo of Chris asleep in his bed was first. The boy didn’t know Justin had snapped that pic just a few days ago. He’s so cute when he’s sleeping, Justin thought.

Then a pic of Chris with his mouth full of Justin’s dick, always a winning shot . . . pics from his Christmas ski vacation . . . selfies with one of the brothers . . . Chris with a purple, striped ass – yeah, he remembered that day alright . . . more pics of Justin with his bros . . . Chris with cum all over his face. Justin smiled. That had been their first night together. He scrolled further back.

More pics of his freshman year friends, his pledge class, his parents as they dropped him off at college. Further back . . . he hadn’t gone back this far in a long time. And he wouldn’t be doing it now if he hadn’t had too much to drink. Justin braced himself.

Next were some shots of his summer before college, spent in Europe with his dad. Nothing of graduation, he had been too distraught. Further back . . . spring of his senior year. And there . . . he . . . was. Smiling, so cute. But the eyes? Now Justin was sure he saw pain in those eyes, pain he had missed at the time.

“I miss him too, man.” Justin looked up, startled. Jayson had walked back over with the drink, and had seen the picture on his phone.

“I know you do. I know you do, man.” Justin took a swig of his Knob Creek. “He was a good bud.”

“Yup.” Jayson looked like he was going to say something else, but Justin pulled out his credit card.

“I ought to get back to the dorm, man. I should study.” Fat chance, but it effectively cut off the conversation.

Jayson took his card and gave him the printout. Justin looked at the total, wrote the same number on the tip line, and added them up.

“Have a good night, bro.” He offered his fist to Jayson, who grazed it, preoccupied. Justin left the bar.

Mark looked up and ordered another scotch. It was still raining. Should I text him? He started typing.

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

Chris sat shirtless at his desk in room 119, turning the card over and over in his hands. The card that had surprised him so much, and which had evidently taken his roommate unawares, too. It was signed Mason Evans, and had arrived slipped under his door. Really, Chris thought for the hundredth time, this has to be a joke. It can’t just be a mistake, my name is on it in his handwriting, and he signed it. But this is definitely some kind of cruel joke.

His phoned buzzed. Justin must have decided what to do.

The text wasn’t from Justin, it was from his hookup app for kinky guys. Chris hadn’t been on it in a while. It was probably some old guy who sent unsolicited messages, who wanted him to move to rural Alabama for 24/7 servitude (no fakes!), and who would get all huffy when Chris declined. He opened the message.

Chris’ heart skipped a beat. Three beats. It was from Mark. Holy fuck. FINALLY. Chris had despaired of ever again hearing from the only man who whose dick had ever penetrated his anus. He had spent a lot of time pining over Mark, and even though his libidinous mind was once again focused on his jock stud of a roommate, he still felt a pang when looking at the picture of Mark’s muscular, hairy chest. Man, he had been so incredibly perfect. I left that condo wanting to marry the guy, Chris remembered.

The message was mundane: “How’s it going?”

Chris ran his hands through his hair. Why? Why was Mark resurfacing now, in this particular moment? He thought about waiting a day or two to reply (it would serve bursa eve gelen escort bayan the bastard right), but his thumbs typed out, “I’m good” before his brain could stop them. Send.

“Long time.”

“Yeah.”

And then a pause. Your ball, Chris thought. I’m not doing all the heavy lifting on this one. I tried. And I’ve moved on, he thought. It was partly true.

“We should get coffee sometime.”

You’re fucking kidding me. Coffee? You wooed me, fucked my ass, took my virginity, kissed me like you wanted to keep me, I made you a fucking FRITTATA, and you disappeared like my dick does in January. And now you want coffee?

“Sure.” I’m such a fucking pushover, Chris thought.

The doorknob rattled. A key fumbled in the lock.

Justin. He’d been with his girlfriend, which meant he was probably drunk. She must have quite a liquor cabinet, Chris thought.

His roommate tumbled in, swearing at the door. He was damp from the rain, and his eyes were unfocused. He stopped in front of Chris.

“Hey, roomie.”

“Hey.”

“You forgot the Sir, bitch.”

“I’m sorry, Sir. Let me take your shoes off.”

Justin sat on his bed unsteadily, and let his sub remove his sneakers. He lifted his hips so the boy could take off his jeans, too. He peeled off his jacket and shirt himself, and leaned back against the wall in just his boxers and socks. He closed his eyes, exhausted.

“It’s hot in here, boy.”

“I know.” Chris sat on the bed next to him and rubbed his thigh gently. While kissing was something Justin would clearly never contemplate with a guy, touching, rubbing, and frequent “bro hugging” had all become permissible over the last three months. Their kink exploration had now ventured into restraints, nipple clamps, and spanking; oral worship of Justin’s feet, pits, ass and crotch was still demanded daily, or close to it. But Chris had made progress on the other, sweeter front, too. There was a lot more affection now. Not enough for Chris, whose heart had never been so completely fulfilled as when giving his soul to Mark through his kisses. But it was better than it had been before. And now there was no punching or hitting, other than the occasional light warning slap to the face when Chris was being particularly whiny or demanding.

“How was your night?”

“Sucked,” Justin replied.

“Maybe you should just dump her.”

“Huh? Who?”

Chris was puzzled. “Your girlfriend.”

“Oh yeah. Maybe I should. Maybe I will,” Justin slurred.

Chris reached over to Justin’s dick, and pulled it out of his boxers. Justin pushed his hand away.

“We gotta talk about that fuckin’ invitation, boy.”

Chris suddenly felt a wave of sympathy. However bizarre Mason’s note had been for him, it was probably much weirder for Justin. These guys were his friends, his brothers. The stud’s worlds had just collided.

“We can talk about it later, Sir. I’m just gonna say no anyway.” Chris leaned over, and took Justin’s flaccid, but still impressive, uncut cock in his mouth.

Justin shoved the boy’s head away, irritated.

“Not now. I need to think.”

“You’ll think easier with empty balls,” Chris wheedled.

Justin forced a smile. “Not tonight, boy. I’m turning in.” And without another word or look at Chris, he lay down and turned his face to the wall.

Chris ran his hands over Justin’s broad shoulders and his muscular tapered back, and pressed his face to the jock’s neck. Not a kiss, just a . . . facial salutation.

“Don’t worry about it, Justin. I’ll do whatever I need to, whatever you want me to.” He knew that SAE was an extremely homophobic frat, and that Justin’s behavior with Chris, even though it was one-sided and basically only involved being orally serviced, might displease the brothers. As close as he wanted to be with Justin, as badly as he wanted their bond to deepen, he would never do anything that would compromise Justin’s standing or prestige. Chris padded to the bathroom, then returned and climbed up into his top bunk. Ironic that I’m on top, he thought, and promptly fell asleep.

He woke late. His morning cocksucking duties were not always demanded on Saturdays, and he certainly didn’t have to be up at the crack of dawn for them, like he did before Justin’s classes. Hearing Justin’s regular breathing from below, he decided to check his phone.

Oh shit! He had forgotten all about Mark. There were two more messages on the app.

“When would be good for coffee? Are you around this weekend?”

Then, “Have a good night, kiddo.”

Chris wrote back: “Sorry, got talking with my roommate and then I fell asleep.” He had never told Mark about Justin. “I could meet you late this afternoon,” he typed before he had too much time to think about it. His feelings were now surging and roiling – while he was still hurt that Mark had ignored him for three months, the older guy also represented a potential for emotional satisfaction that Justin, bayan eskort bursa despite his animal charm, couldn’t offer.

Not yet, anyway, Chris thought. But look at it strategically. If you rushed his house . . . things might be different. You’d belong, then. You’d have to be discreet, but you’d have a deeper connection with him than anyone else in that frat. Who knows where you might be after two more years? You’d be way more bonded than now, and on so many more levels. And Justin couldn’t send you away, because you’d be in his closest circle. Chris had periodic anxiety about what would happen their junior year; it was a given that Justin would go live in his fraternity. With that kind of separation, Chris was afraid he would never see his jock Dom again. Maybe this invitation was really a golden opportunity, and not a joke at all.

His phone buzzed, breaking his reverie. “Sure, how about Uncommon Grounds at 4?”

Suddenly afraid to commit, Chris waited to reply. Was it really a good idea to see this guy again? Now that things are going so much better with Justin? Self-control was not Chris’ strong suit, however. He wanted to be loved. He had promised himself last fall not to shy away from finding what he wanted. And, of course, he was always horny, and hated to disappoint people. So he said yes.

“Sounds good. See you then!” he typed.

Justin was having a groggy, hungover morning. He declined Chris’ offer of head again, and sat his roommate down to work through this whole awkward fraternity mess.

“I don’t know why he did it,” Justin said for the tenth time. “And you already know he can be a real dick. I seriously doubt he has some elaborate, wild, kinky plan, though, he’s gonna graduate in a few more months. If you got in the house, he wouldn’t be around to mess with you. So I don’t think that’s the point.”

“Well then, maybe it’s for real. Maybe,” and here Chris hesitated, embarrassed; he knew that Justin and the other frat brothers would have much higher standards for masculinity than he did, so he prepared to be dismissed. “Maybe he was impressed by . . . you know, how much I could . . . um, take . . . from him, and he saw something that he thought put me on another level, even though I’m not an athlete.”

To his credit, Justin did not guffaw. He smiled with only a hint of condescension, and considered Chris’ point seriously. As he thought about the boy’s ass getting punished, he started absently stroking his big dick.

“I’m not a total wimp, you know,” Chris said, eyeing his roommate’s lengthening shaft.

Justin stopped playing with himself. “No, you’re not roomie. You take your beating like a man. And you’re, you know, masculine enough in the big picture, I guess.”

Chris stiffened slightly; he wasn’t sure he wanted Justin to evaluate his frat potential in front of him.

“But say you rush. You won’t have anything in common with the rest of the brothers. It’s all about sports, girls, and money. And that’s another thing, it’s expensive to join, too.”

Chris didn’t know how to respond to that; what Justin said was true. He wasn’t rich. And he could maybe fake a few introductory conversations, but after that . . . it could get excruciating.

“How many people know you’re gay?” Justin fixed Chris with an unusually direct look.

“Ummmm, no one, really,” Chris answered, surprised at the question. They had never talked about this before. “Just you.”

“Well, I know you like to suck my dick, and I know you’re gay for me, roomie, but I was your first one, right? So there’s no other track record out there for you to really know what you are, see? So maybe it’s, ya know, a circumstantial thing.”

Chris blushed. This would not be a good time to talk about Mark fucking him, then. Justin knew there had been no sexual contact with Mason, and was obviously assuming he was the only other guy Chris had gotten naked with. So, yeah, they could pretend it was circumstantial, even though Chris had come out to himself and Pat almost a year ago.

But while we’re on the subject, Chris thought, what exactly does that make you, “roomie”, if you’re not having sex with your girlfriend anymore?

Justin went on. “There’s a lot of good guys in the house. I’m tight with them up there. You might turn into a whole new person if you joined, it might really set you up.”

Chris wasn’t sure how to take that, either. If I’m such a loser, why are you messing around with me every day?

The voice of doubt had an answer: he’s letting you suck his cock, Chris. You’re not his equal, he’s never treated you like one. Yeah, he jacked you off once, but at the end of the day, you’re just his submissive. You don’t even know how much he actually likes you. So yeah, I guess joining might help your long-term chances with him. If that’s what you want.

That was what Chris wanted.

“That sounds really awesome.”

“They just can’t think you’re gay.”

Chris nodded. “No problem.”

Justin rolled his eyes. “You’re too obvious, boy. You can’t go around looking at them like you looked at me that first day, like they’re all dudes you want to suck off. You gotta be way more discreet, if you do this.”

Chris walked over to him, staring carefully at one of Justin’s titty posters. Never once looking at his roommate, he knelt, pulled the jock’s thick, uncut dick out of his boxers, and started stroking it.

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Doctor Catherine Pt. 02

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Ass

This story, and all my stories, contain real and fictional characters from long ago memories and from recent events in my life.

My stories are memoirs spiced with a kinky imagination. I am submissive by nature in most relationships, sometimes extremely submissive in sex. If you like kinky mature bi women I hope you will like my stories and please comment, tell me what you liked and didn’t like, to help me improve.

…

From my story…Doctor Cathrine

She had been my Gynecologist for five years. I found her when I first moved to Florida from North Carolina. I trusted her completely and so did my wife Beth. Catherine Saul was not only our doctor but very a trusted advisor and confidant. We had no secrets from her and to the best of my knowledge she never betrayed our trust.

Oral sex with Nishi was overwhelming. There was a fire building between my legs while my taste & smell senses were being delighted between hers.

My first orgasm came slowly but shook me to the core when it swept over me.

Nishi closed her thighs around my head as she exploded and soaked my face and lips.

I lost count of orgasms and track of time. When I looked at a window it was growing dark and our time together was near an end.

Hours later I was home and very content. It had been so long since I had been loved that way and brought to orgasm so intensely.

I looked at the list.

Doctor Catherine Part 2

For the first time I actually looked at the list. Three pages, almost 40 names, it’s longer than I expected but I had questions. I called Anne and asked her what it all meant. I think she was disappointed that I was not calling to get together but that would come later, I had plans for my sweet Annie.

She explained… First is obviously the woman’s name, first name only. Next is her phone number. Reading to the right, next is a code for the city she lives in. WH is Winter Haven, VB is Venice Beach, DB is Daytona Beach etc. Next is race, a simple W, B or A. Next is her age. Next is her weight. She laughed and said that was fat shaming. Next was an important piece of information, a status code. L or B is simple, a lesbian or bi-sexual. Next character S or P, single or partnered (possibly married). Next character O or C, open (partner if there is one knows), closed (partner if there is one does NOT know).

Anne commented, “It’s just me but if that last letter is C, I avoid them.”

I thanked Anne, again thinking (hoping?) she was disappointed and went back to the list.

Helen, xxx-xxx-xxxx, VB (my town), W (white), 55, 145, BPO (bisexual in an open relationship). Why not? Closer to my age than many others on the list. I’ll think on it.

Two days later I call Helen and a woman answers. I ask to speak to Helen and the woman who answered says, “Hold on, I’ll put her on.”

Only a moment later, “Hello, this is Helen.”

“Hello Helen, my name is Robin, Doctor Catherine thought we should talk.”

“Oh Robin, I saw your name on the new list and was actually thinking just yesterday that I might call you.”

We exchange some meaningless information, just chit chat trying to dance around if when and how to meet. I mention, still not sure why, that I play tennis in a women’s group. Of course she lives in my town, plays tennis, and says “My wife Joan and I have seen your group play. I think I may have seen you. Short grey/silver hair?”

I answer her implied question. “Could be me. You approve of my game?”

“Oh yes sweetie, if I’m not being too forward, I bursa otele gelen escort approve of everything about you.”

Helen suggests we play tennis and see where it goes. I agree and we set a time and date. It’s my job to reserve a court.

I ask her, “If I’m not being too forward myself, your wife Joan is ok with where this might lead?”

Helen does not hesitate, “Oh, Joan is not really my wife. We are not married and we both see others. Now, don’t get your hopes up Robin but sometimes Joan and I share a friend.” She laughs.

We leave it that I will confirm the court reservation. Just tennis and then we will see where it goes from there. I suggest maybe a swim at my house. We leave it at maybe.

The reservation is no problem, I know the guy who runs the courts for the city. Well, the court is no problem but the weather is a problem. It is blistering hot. I am sweating and fading before we even start to play. An hour into our match Helen is winning and I’m dying from the heat.

I surrender! I ask her for mercy and suggest we retreat from the sun to my house for a shower, a cold drink and a swim.

Let me stop for a moment and tell you about Helen. I notice when we meet that we share a blessing, hers even more than mine require a doubled sports bra to control bounce. Helen has simply stunning legs, I’m jealous. Medium length dark hair and suntanned skin. I just know there are sexy tan lines there under what little she has on.

She tells me a swim sounds great but mentions she would have to swing by her house, she forgot to bring a swim suit. Of course I suggest a suit is not necessary, my pool is very private. She follows me home.

Our shoes are off at the door, I offer her a cold drink and we both have beer.

We go out to the pool and she walks right in down the stairs clothes and all. I’m standing on the deck and she looks up at me and says, “You look hot.”

I look down at her and say, “Thank you Helen you look pretty hot too.”

She is watching. As I take my clothes off she is striping in the pool. By the time I’m in the water we are both naked.

I think I have good intuition about women and sexual relationships. I felt from the moment I met her that Nishi wanted more than just a physical relationship she wanted an almost spiritual link. She found that link with me when she taught me on the beach to listen to my heart. The sex that followed was so much more satisfying and intense with a link established beyond the physical.

I feel that Doctor Cat will be about control. I have yet to be with her but I’ll bet it will be about controlling me, my body, my orgasms, everything. Yum

Anne is a bit of an unknown. I like that. I have a feeling, no I’m hoping, that my relationship with Anne will be more, much more, than just sex.

Now back to Helen. I’m about to find out if I’m right but I think Helen is after only one thing, raw uninhibited sex. No emotional bond just lust and orgasm.

As I approach her in the pool I can see that her breasts are much larger than mine. I would find out shortly that she has had them “enhanced.” My girls are naturally what I was born with, a lot bigger and softer over time, but still what God gave me.

As we embrace I notice two things. Helen is a little heavier than I thought but it only makes her curvier and more sexy and her breasts are very firm. We kiss and almost immediately her tongue is very aggressively deep in my mouth. Her hands are everywhere on my breasts bursa eve gelen eskort on my butt and between my legs and butt cheeks. Her fingers are probing.

Helen looks at me and asks if we can shower and go to bed. I don’t need to be asked twice. I lead her to my bedroom and bath and we shower. As I’m washing her I complement her breasts and she laughs, “You mean my $10,000 mistakes?”

I ask her why she says that, “I think they are spectacular.”

She laughs again and says, “Yes if you are Dolly Parton. For me it’s like having two volleyballs attached to my chest.”

I kiss one of her nipples and she pushes my face between them. We both laugh.

I wash her butt crack and vagina, both hairless and smooth.

I’m not sure I believe her but Helen says she has never been with a Black woman.

After we dry each other we move to the bed and by the way she is exploring my body I’m guessing she was not lying. Helen asks me to lay on top of her with her on her back with my knees on each side of her head. My face is between her thighs and I use my hands to push them apart.

Her mouth is busy pleasing me with her tongue teasing my clit and her hands are busy exploring between my cheeks. She stops and asks me to stop and sit up, “Robin, sit on my face baby, let me taste all of you.”

I pivot up and back and I feel her hands spread my cheeks and she is rimming me. Then her tongue is in me and her hands are caressing my breasts pinching my nipples and I feel a wave building. It would not be the last of the day.

Eventually our time together would end with promises of another day that I knew would never come.

Again, I’m home with the list. Satisfied and tired.

A week goes by, then another.

I knew I should call Anne, I really wanted to call her, but I was curious. Something on the list caught my eye. Doctor Cat’s line ends with BPO. Bisexual, Partnered, Open. I thought she was a lesbian and single.

First things first. Doctor Cat had told me she did not “see” group members who were patients. I wondered what would happen if I called her for a referral to a new gynecologist. I called.

The return call did not take long an automated message telling me my appointment time and date. Another late day appointment a week from now.

Two days before my scheduled appointment I get a call from Doctor Cat’s office asking if I can meet her at her home and not the office and at 6:00 not 5:00.

Unexpectedly, when I arrive a man answers the door. An attractive 40 something very good looking man. Just what is Doctor Cat up to this evening? He says, “Good evening Robin, my name is Seth Williams. I have been looking forward to meeting you.”

Before I can say anything Doctor Cat comes out dressed in white shorts and a very casual white top. Nice smooth jazz playing in the background.

Doctor Cat says, “Hi Robin, so glad you could join us. I see you’ve met Seth.”

“Hello Doctor, it’s nice to be here.”

Doctor Cat says, “Oh sweetie, you can just call me Cat. If you accept, my husband Seth will be your new doctor.” Damn, she is married to another doctor, a very good looking doctor. Cat walks over and kisses me lightly on the lips.

Cat shows me into their great room and we sit on the couch with her next to me and Seth in a chair beside us. She explains that they met in Med School, were once partners with others in a large Miami medical practice and then moved to central Florida. Seth’s Office is bayan escort bursa in Winter Haven. Seth has asked me what I would like to drink and is preparing drinks.

Cat asks if she is incorrect in assuming that by asking for a new doctor I was saying I might be interested in a more “intimate” relationship with her. I confirm that she is correct. Seth hands us our drinks and sits again nearby. Cat leans in and kisses me more than just a casual kiss, her tongue is between my lips. As she stops her head is near mine and she whispers, “Seth likes to watch and sometimes join in. Would that be ok with you.” Instead of answering her I take her face in my hands and return her kiss.

I feel her pulling my top up over my head and I do the same to her. She has on a black bra that contrasts with her skin. I have on a white bra for the same contrast. Seth is leaning forward.

Cat stands and takes my hand leading me into the bedroom where the covers are already turned down. Seth follows us and sits in a big chair they have in that room.

Cat says, “Robin, I have already seen you naked, I approve. Take my clothes off.”

As I unhook her bra revealing her pale white breasts and pink areola and nipples my hands linger, touching, squeezing and gently pinching. Her breasts are smaller than mine but perfectly round and very firm. I cup and kiss each one and gently suck each nipple for a moment. She removes my bra and does the same to me.

I look over at Seth and he has his shirt off and is fingering and pinching his own nipples. I’ve never seen a man do that and find it somewhat erotic. His other hand is rubbing, touching his very obvious, rather large, erection through the fabric of his shorts.

I am kneeling in front of Cat and I push my hands up into the legs of her shorts. She has on a thong. I can feel the cords between her smooth tight butt cheeks. She looks down at me and says, “Take them off me.”

As I pull her shorts down she steps out of them. She is wearing a black thong. It is wet and I can clearly see the out line of her lips in the thin fabric. I pull the thong down revealing her beautiful smooth hairless vagina and her large labia lips. I lean in and kiss her puss and she urges me to stand so she can remove my shorts and panties. When I look over at Seth he is naked holding and gently stroking his very large erection.

Cat lays on her back and urges me to go down of her. My hands are behind her knees pushing them up and apart. As I lean in I can smell her. She has a very strong scent of an excited woman and my body responds. Seth is behind me in the chair so I spread my knees and legs and pivot my hips to expose myself to him. Cat is delicious and urging me to lean in push her legs further up and rim her, “Lick me Robin, make me cum baby. Put your tongue in my pussy.” I don’t need encouragement. She is delicious and soon I am pushing the hood of her clit back and sucking it. She has an orgasm!

I feel his hands on my hips and then the pressure of his cock pushing into me. He is deep in my vagina when the first wave sweeps over me. He is much longer than I thought and I think I can feel him touch places no man has ever been. Of course I can’t but the thought and feeling set off a long series of orgasms deep inside.

His hands are reaching down to fondle my breasts, pinching my nipples very hard. Cat tells him, “Seth, don’t cum in her. Let me taste you both. Cum in my mouth.” His stroking stops. He pulls out of me and I look up from between her legs and see him put his cock in her mouth. Cat is caressing one of her own breasts while her other hand reaches up for his balls. One slight tug and he is grunting as I imagine he is filling her mouth.

Cat pushes him away and pulls me by my hair so she can kiss me. When she does she fills my mouth with him.

Hours later I’m home in bed falling asleep. When I awake I think of Anne.

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Egyptian Nights

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Anal

A bit of nineteenth century kitten play.

*

Author’s Note

This story was brought about by a couple of things: my own fascination with women masquerading as cats, as seen in Risk Vs. Reward, Shelter Pet, and a couple of my Mistress and Charlotte tales when Charlotte engages in a little kitten play. There was also the suggestion of another author, Maonaigh, saying that I should take my fascination with cats and weave it into a story featuring a woman, her girlfriend who enjoys playing the role of a cat, and the Egyptian goddess Bastet.

Well, after letting those ideas steep in my brain for a while, this is what I have come up with. This story takes place in the eighteen-hundreds, when the French colonization effort in Egypt has ended and British involvement is on the rise. My knowledge of Egyptian history is sketchy at best, so please remember this is a work of fiction and not a history lesson.

I hope you enjoy it.

Wax Philosophic

*

Egyptian Nights

My name is Nigel Carruthers, the Third. I am a famous Egyptologist with many well-lauded publications attached to my name. I am also a woman. How did a woman get saddled with a name like Nigel Carruthers, the Third, you may ask? More on that later.

I employ a secretary, whose name incidentally is Nigella, a much more feminine-sounding derivative, but that is neither here nor there. The very most interesting thing about Nigella, at least to me, is that she sometimes thinks she’s a cat. In fact, we have a little game that we like to play, wherein I will deposit a diamond-studded collar on the bureau, along with a furry little tail that attaches in a manner that—well, let’s just say I’ll leave the details as an exercise for the reader.

Nigella and I are lovers, you see. Did I not mention that? Well, we are. In the evenings that I leave her collar and tail on the bureau, she will discretely slip into the W.C. to complete her feline transformation, all while I am in bed with my notes, pretending to be deeply into my academic studies. She even has this way of putting up her hair that gives the illusion of feline ears atop her head.

On the nights that we play this game, Nigella will wait patiently for me to put my work aside and extinguish the lamp, and then she is upon me. Oh, and I do mean upon me in the literal sense. I never make her wait long, because I do love the experience of her feline persona between the sheets, so to speak. She is quite lovely. She starts out purring and rubbing her cheek against my thigh. It’s all very cat-like, and it helps to let me know where she is in the dark. Sometimes she will sit back on her haunches, silhouetted in the dim light of the moon and lick the inside of her wrists like they are paws. She will then begin to groom herself. She is very thorough.

There are some nights, usually when the moon is quite prominent and there is more than the normal amount of light in our bedchamber, that I am content to lie back and watch as Nigella grooms herself. As I mentioned, she is very thorough, though I don’t recall if I also mentioned that she is completely nude while she is in her cat persona. It is quite a sight to behold, even in silhouette.

Though presently it is day, and Nigella and I are in Egypt, about fifty miles or so from Cairo by train. A dreadful city by all rights, Cairo, too many people in too little space, and camel dung literally everywhere. If it weren’t for the close proximity of Great Pyramids of Giza and the fact that it is the port in which our ship is docked, I would have avoided it at all costs. But such is the life of an Egyptologist.

We are checking into the Hotel Baba Ghanoush in Zagazig, a much more interesting and serene place, situated in the eastern Nile delta. Yes, I realize that Baba Ghanoush is a rather delicious appetizer made with eggplant and tahini, and I don’t know what else. But I didn’t name it—the appetizer or the hotel—and it really has no application to this story, except that ironically, it is a dish not served in the hotel dining room. Though that is neither here nor there, because my dear Nigella and I have come here to study the Egyptian goddess Bastet.

From the outset, I have told you that my name is Nigel Carruthers, the Third, and that I am a famous Egyptologist. I will tell you now that this is only a half truth. I am a famous Egyptologist, with several important works attributed to my name, yes, but my real name is Lucy Carruthers. Nigel is my younger brother who spends most of his time and money playing the part of a raging drunk. I only appropriated his name, because in this day and age it is simply scandalous to think that a woman could be, or would even want to be, a gifted academic rather than devoting her time to more domestic pursuits.

It is probably even more scandalous that a woman should be standing in the lobby of the Hotel Baba Ghanoush, with close-cropped hair, and looking rather smartly attired in a man’s suit. In fact, in this day and age, it could even result in my nilüfer escort being hanged. But I won’t tell if you don’t.

That’s how it is with my brother as well—he doesn’t mention that his sister Lucy is doing all the work that he takes credit for, and I don’t mention that he’s a fraud. We have this arrangement, you see, where he is the public face of Nigel Carruthers, the Third, famous Egyptologist who is rather unable to hold his liquor, while I, on the other hand, am the one producing the marvelously detailed works that get him invited to all the museum galas. I don’t mind so much, because I also have Nigella.

She looks every bit the fitting secretary for a world-famous Egyptologist. Her long, dark hair is piled up in a bun, while a pair of glasses on a slender chain adorns her graceful neck. Her lips are pouty and flushed, much like her breasts that are currently constrained inside her starched white blouse, testing the limits of the buttons. Her legs are clad in lacy dark stockings under that long skirt that hugs the curve of her hips so perfectly.

Ah, but I meander, which is always a danger when the subject of Nigella comes up. As I have said, we are checking into the Hotel Baba Ghanoush in Zagazig, Nigella and I, because this is the ancestral home of Bastet, the Egyptian cat goddess, whose name translates roughly into She of the Ointment Jar. I happen to glance upon Nigella’s rather well-formed backside as I am relating this bit about the ointment jar, and it gives me some ideas for what we might do, Nigella and I, after we take our supper. I will most definitely be unpacking the diamond-studded collar first.

“Monsieur Carruthers, your reputation precedes you.” A fez-capped clerk slides a key across the desk with a crooked-toothed smile. “We have reserved for you the best suite in the house. Ahmed will show you to your room, and someone will be along with your luggage, momentarily.”

I thank the desk clerk, and tip him handsomely in the local currency. Nigel Carruthers, the Third is nothing if not generous. And besides, the exchange rate works out to be shamefully in my favor.

Ahmed turns out to be a boy of no more than ten by my best estimation, and he looks very eager to show us to our room, probably thinking of the tip that will come of it. I smile and turn my head to Nigella. “Come along, darling. Our suite awaits.”

And what a suite it is. Large and airy and on the top floor of the hotel with a charming view of the Nile delta. It is even decorated in the local fashion, with an almost life-sized alabaster statue of Bastet, the Egyptian cat goddess I have come here to study, displayed prominently on one side of the room.

“Nigella, darling, come have a look at this bed.”

No response, but this is not out of the ordinary for Nigella, who tends to be rather shy and reserved. I think it fits well with her cat persona—solitary beasts that seem rather aloof and tend to tolerate humankind only when there is a saucer of milk involved.

“Darling?” I turn my head to see her standing in front of the alabaster statue of Bastet, staring openly. She has unbuttoned the cuffs of her blouse and is busy licking the insides of her wrists. I know what comes next. “Perhaps I should draw the curtain?”

Nigella turns toward me, her head tilted, as if she’s investigating the source of this curious sound—my voice. Though she looks right through me, as if I’m not even in the room, and continues licking her wrists. I notice that she has slipped a few more buttons on her blouse when I hear a knock at the door. The luggage! Damned fine timing.

I open the door just a crack. Staring up at me is the smiling face of Ahmed. Somehow the young boy has managed to transport our trunks up here all by himself. He seems rather proud of his efforts.

“You’re very strong,” I say, pulling a large denomination bank note from my wallet. Ahmed’s face is beaming at the sight of the currency.

“Unfortunately, dear boy, Missus Carruthers has taken rather ill. So if you would be so kind as to leave the luggage in the hall, I’ll see to it from here.”

Ahmed’s once beaming face goes slack. He appears crestfallen.

“You see, I’m afraid it may be contagious. I wouldn’t want you to come into contact with any germs. You do understand germs, don’t you?”

“Yes, Monsieur. Germs. Sick. I understand.”

“Thank you, lad.” I pull another local bank note from my wallet and slip it to the boy through the crack of the door. “Missus Carruthers needs her rest. Will you please see to it that we are not disturbed further this evening?”

There is a gleeful nod from Ahmed as he abandons the luggage in the hall, as instructed, and scampers off. I drag the trunks inside and bolt the door. The first things I unpack are the diamond-studded collar and the tail.

“Nigella, darling. That was Ahmed with the luggage. Charming boy, really.” I look at Nigella who is now kneeling in front of the statue. She is completely nude, and looks absolutely radiant in the görükle escort orange evening light reflecting off the alabaster Bastet. “Darling? Are you sure you wouldn’t like something to eat first?”

Nigella says nothing, simply licks her wrists and grooms her body, all while staring up at the face of Bastet. I have never seen her quite like this and I am inclined to perch myself on the edge of the bed and enjoy the show, as it were.

Nigella continues grooming herself, leaning so far back that she is now supine on the rug, with her back arched and her thighs spread in the direction of the statue of Bastet. She is purring. Her magnificent chest is flushed and heaving as she continues the grooming ritual that is normally reserved for the dark of the night. But I’m not one to complain, mind you.

Nigella is perhaps the finest example of the female specimen that I have ever set eyes upon, and as I mentioned previously there are many times when I am content to simply observe her actions with no desire to take part myself. This is certainly one of those times—she is absolutely fascinating this evening.

Nigella is arched with only her shoulder blades and her lovely backside in contact with the rug underneath her. Oh, and I suppose the back of her head as well, for her head is thrown back as far as I can imagine that it will go, and it exposes the graceful line of her neck quite nicely. Her knees, yes, her knees are pointing up at the ceiling above, and are spread quite obscenely at the moment. She has started in on grooming the area between her thighs, her mound as she calls it during those times when she’s being a human, and grooming this area often results in her knees being as wide apart as possible.

Her mound is, and always has been, completely devoid of hair. She once confessed that it’s not her doing, and that it has always been this way. I sometimes wonder if it’s part of her cat persona that enjoys the clean feeling of the smooth bare skin. I also often wonder if she takes care of the smoothing on those nights when I hear her up and bumping about, long after I am tucked under the covers. But I have never questioned it, I simply accept that this is the way my Nigella is, and thank my lucky stars that we found each other.

The volume of Nigella’s purring has increased, as has the speed of her grooming. One of her hands will fly over the area between her legs, but only for a few seconds before it is drawn back to her mouth to be slathered with her tongue again. During the tongue slathering, her other hand is busy grooming. It is a very efficient process, and as I have already stated, my Nigella is very thorough.

“Would you like your collar now, darling? I have it unpacked. Perhaps your tail?”

Again, Nigella turns her head toward the sound of my voice, but appears to look right through me. I decide to fetch the items anyway.

When I come back, Nigella arches her back more than I thought possible, and stretches her neck out toward me, as I fasten the collar on her. This movement is the only indication that she even senses my presence in the room.

“I’ll leave you to take care of the tail if that’s alright, darling.”

In the past, she has always emerged from the W.C. fully in character, and I’ve never been privy to the details of what goes on in there when she makes the transformation. But tonight is different. Tonight, she does it in full view of Bastet and me.

Nigella begins with an undulating of her hips, rising and falling from the rug beneath her as if she were in some sort of trance state. And then, in obvious catlike fashion, she starts licking. She’s licking the end of the tail that normally never sees the light of day—licking until it is wet and shining in the fading sunlight. And then her hand disappears, as does the end of the tail. After a brief contortion crosses her face, her hand is back in sight, and she is purring more than ever.

Nigella has rolled over and is on all fours now. She is crawling with her head low, as if stalking some unseen prey. Her movements are graceful, even more so than usual. Her heavy breasts sway as she makes her way over to the statue of Bastet, where she spends the next few minutes rubbing against it with her cheek, and then turning a circle to present her backside to the statue and shaking her tail. This maneuver is repeated several times while I watch in utter fascination.

“Nigella, darling, you’re beautiful.”

Once again, she turns toward the sound of my voice and stares openly. It may be a trick of the fading light, but I could swear that her eyes have changed. My Nigella has always had the most enchanting amber eyes that I have ever seen. Her irises still retain the warm amber color this evening, but there is something decidedly different about the pupils—they have become like vertical slits. Though, as I say, the sun has gotten quite low at this point in the evening and it may have all been a trick of the light.

By this time, Nigella is up on her hind legs. Yes, she is a bursa escort human and I could simply say legs and still be perfectly clear in my meaning, but there was something about her feline transformation on this particular evening that has compelled me to use the word hind as a modifier. As Nigella rises up on her hind legs, she uses her hands to paw at the statue as if she were climbing it. But she isn’t exactly climbing so much as embracing.

Nigella has wrapped her hind legs around Bastet’s thigh and is sliding up and down over the smooth alabaster statue, while her forelegs, or arms I should say, encircle the goddess’s neck. Nigella’s head is thrust back as she presses her ample bosom against the stone of the statue. The purring is unimaginably loud at this point, and seems to be resonating in my very skull as this scene unfolds before me.

I am in awe. Nigella’s entire body shudders for a moment, and then she does the strangest thing yet—she climbs down off the statue and curls up onto the rug beneath it. Her eyes are closed and I could swear that she has fallen asleep.

“Nigella? Darling? Are you quite alright?”

I realize it is a bit late to be asking these questions, but as I have said, this is not the first time that my dear Nigella has taken on a feline persona. But I do believe it is the first time I have ever witnessed such a complete transformation. It was an exceedingly long journey for us, getting to Egypt and I decide that perhaps fatigue is the reason behind her rather unique behavior tonight.

“Darling?”

She appears dead to the world, but I see that her chest is rising and falling, and I know that she is only asleep.

“Darling, I’m going to pop out and fetch us some dinner. You just rest. I’ll bring you something.”

On my way to the cafe, I run into Ahmed, the small boy of great strength, who delivered our luggage earlier. He asks how he can be of service, and I tell him of my desire for two dinners. When he asks if there is anything else I might require, I pause for a moment and then ask him for a bottle of milk and a bowl. “It’s for Missus Carruthers,” I explain. “It helps her to keep the germs down, you see.”

Ahmed nods and scampers off, while I go back to check on my dear Nigella.

She is still sleeping where I left her by the time I get back, and doesn’t even stir when Ahmed comes knocking on the door later with a room service cart and a wide smile. I see that he has brought the milk, as I had asked, and also makes no move to deliver the cart inside the room—no doubt still fearing the germs I had warned him about previously. I tip him well, of course.

“Nigella, darling,” I whisper. “Ahmed, the charming boy who delivered our luggage, has brought dinner.”

Not a sound other than a light snoring comes from my dearest as she lies on the rug, still curled up and resting her head on her front paws. Hands. Forgive me, I meant to say hands.

“If you would rather, there is also milk. I’ll put some in a bowl for you.”

Now, as I have mentioned earlier, it was a long journey that brought us to the Hotel Baba Ghanoush in Zagazig, and I am starting to feel the effects of the trip myself. So after consuming my dinner, I turn my attention to my poor exhausted Nigella. She still hasn’t moved. I think briefly of waking her in order to tuck her into bed, but then I decide it best not to disturb her too much. I cover her with a blanket and get myself ready to turn in for the night. Before I slip between the sheets, I pour the milk into the bowl and set it on the rug next her.

After such a long day, sleep takes me almost instantly. Though it is not long before I hear a clatter in the night. I spring upright at once and go to the door to investigate. It is still firmly bolted. As I move to check the window, I notice Nigella is no longer where I had left her prior to drifting off. She has moved, and is now curled up under the statue of Bastet. In the sliver of moonlight, a pale shadow of the statue is cast, and it gives the illusion that Bastet is lying beside my dear Nigella—at least in silhouette.

I pick up the blanket that Nigella has discarded in her nocturnal movements, and cover her lovely body to shield her from cold. It is then that I notice the bowl of milk has been completely drained, licked clean one might say, particularly if one had suspicions about one’s secretary turning into a cat.

I shake my head and tell myself that all will be right in the morning, that I will discover the source of this elaborate illusion that is being played upon my senses this evening.

Crawling into bed once again, I pull up the covers. Just as I begin to drift off, I awaken with a start. It’s the clattering noise again. Though this time I can see that it is most definitely Nigella who is the source. She is standing at the foot of the bed, staring at me and licking the inside of her lovely wrists.

“Come to bed, kitty,” I say.

Nigella takes to the bed, down on all fours, moving toward me, stalking me almost. Her heavy breasts sway beneath her in a rhythm that matches her movements. Her front paws—hands, her hands, I remind myself—stretch forward and reach to the top of my thigh. I am sleeping in the nude as I often do, so there is nothing to shield me as Nigella drags her nails sharply over the skin of my leg.

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