Ay: Temmuz 2024

Liberties Taken in Copperhead Road

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Amateur

Sheriff Benjermin Deane Petitte sat patiently in his squad car outside the rundown trailer that belonged to Debby Sanchez. It was a quarter till 2 in the morning, and Sheriff Petitte was certain Debby had already gone to bed, the entire trailer was awash in darkness. He continued to sit there however in his squad car, admiring the still calm of the night, finishing of a Camel nonfilter.

It was just another painfully slow night in his bucolic, West Texas town and the Sheriff was bored. When he got bored on his late night rounds, Sheriff Petitte’s attentions tended to gravitate, every so often, to Debby Sanchez’s trailer on the outskirts of town.

It didn’t matter that Debby was probably asleep, Petitte reasoned. She would always be eternally grateful for the little favor Benjermin Petitte did for her and her family nearly 20 years earlier.

* * * * *

The unbearably hot and humid August night back in 1978 when Debby Sanchez’s fortunes were forever connected to those of then deputy Benny Petitte’s, started out as a simple dream and longing for freedom that went horribly wrong.

Deputy Petitte had pulled over a covered, beat up truck on the outskirts of Chickasaw for not having any tags on the back. Upon further investigation, Benny had found four very scared Mexicans hiding underneath the tarp, huddled together and praying.

The driver of the truck had gotten six months in jail for the indiscretion, even though he steadfastly denied knowing there were stowaways on the bed of his pickup.

The fate of the four members of the Sanchez family that were busted in the arrest took a more twisted and interesting route however. Procedure would have dictated that the arresting officer would have called for back up, the aliens would have been detained, processed, then eventually ushered back across the border only to try and enter the U.S. again later.

The three women and one man that the illegal ‘cargo ‘ consisted of would have undoubtedly been sent back to the drug and poverty infested slums of Northern Mexico in quick order if it wasn’t for the great sense of patriotism bubbling through the veins of the young deputy that sticky Texas night over 20 years earlier.

That illegal ‘cargo” consisted of Marisslassius Sanchez, her cousin Emmanuelle, Emmanuelle’s husband Juaquin, and Marisslassius’s then four year old daughter, Delia, who would later change her name to Debby when she grew up and tried to make herself seem more “American”.

* * * * *

As Petitte sat there in his cruiser, looking lustfully at the darkened windows of the trailer, he satisfiedly replayed the events of that night nearly 22 years earlier in his head.

Ben knew Debby would come to the door when he knocked and would certainly let him in as she had done hundreds of times before. After all, it was the good Sheriff who, when he was just a lowly deputy, had allowed those four stowaways under the blanket of that raggedy pickup to slip away ‘accidentally” into the Texas night before his backup could arrive.

All it took for that little lapse of containment was a blowjob from both Emmanuelle and Marisslassius while Emmanuelle’s husband and Marisslassius’s Daughter were forced to look on as their four ‘green cards” were validated.

Ben Petitte had then proceeded to make those four family members his pet project over the next 20 years, keeping them safe from deportation, pulling a few strings at some of the local industries to give the four a chance at steady employment, as long as the two women of the group provided Petitte with an occasional ‘thank you” when the feeling hit.

* * * * *

1982 was a good year for Benjermin Petitte. His first son was born that February to his wife Ruby, then in June when Sheriff Benton retired, Ben, being the senior deputy, moved over to the big desk in the Chickasaw County Sheriff’s office.

As the years wore on and Ben became more and more comfortable in the Sheriff’s seat, he had steadily crafted quite a legacy for himself with the residents of the small poverty riddled town.

In 92, Ben’s 10 year anniversary as the county’s top lawman, another interesting thing happened to him. 1992 was the year that little Delia Sanchez had turned 18 and it wasn’t long until Ben made the already jaded young woman part of his seemingly endless repayment plan.

On and off for the next 8 years, Ben would make these late night visits to Debby’s trailer. As the Sheriff discovered the joys of sharing a bed with a young horny spitfire such as Debby, despite the fact that the young woman thought Ben Petitte was the devil incarnate, Ben found less and less use for the two older women that had been involved that night 22 years earlier and focused most of his libidinal outlets onto the young, nubile, and lithe girl.

Emmanuelle had quietly disappeared over the years and Debby’s mother, Marrisslassiuss, had predictably died of a drug overdose soon after her Daughter had submitted to Sheriff Petitte’s advances. Debby thought everyday of bahis siteleri killing the man, but some eternal weakness, need for a job or sick desire for the affection he was giving her made Debby continually tolerate everything Petitte asked of her.

After turning 18, Petitte had pulled a few strings with an old running buddy at the Paliocious Slaughterhouse in town for a clerical job for Debby in the office and she had steadfastly gutted it out and was able to provide a nice, albeit modest, living for herself and her young son who bore a striking resemblance to the Sheriff himself.

“Yes…” Petitte said out loud to himself as he opened the door of his cruiser to make the short walk through the cluttered yard, “…She’ll let me in.”

* * * * *

William Alexander Southwick was a proud man, not always smart, but at the core of his being, he was a proud and faithful Husband and Father.

His Father had trained him to take over the cattle farm on which he was raised and Bill Southwick had faithfully and diligently worked it most of his adult life. When the plight of the small southwestern family farm began to take a severe downturn in the mid 80’s under Reaganomics however, Southwick had to start hustling to make ends meet for his wife and baby daughter, Nadine.

Bill had tried a series of seasonal factory jobs each Winter, but could never seem to stick. So use to working in the wide open fresh air spaces of his fields all day, being cramped up inside a dark, noisy and confining factory all day just didn’t agree with his constitution.

Over the course of a few weeks in the mid 90’s, an idea began creeping into Southwick’s head as he bravely fought the lingering bouts of insomnia that had befallen him.

He had been hanging around with several co-workers from one of the factories one night, playing poker and drinking when someone passed around a mason jar full of a clear white liquid.

Southwick took a long slow sip, knowing immediately what it was as soon as the first drops of it blazed down his unsuspecting throat. It was the first taste of moonshine Bill had swallowed since he was in his early 20’s, many a moon ago. His uncle, Sylvester Southwick, had once made a potent brew in small quantities for just his family and close friends.

“I haven’t seen any of this shit in years,” Bill winced, preparing himself for another brutal swig from the jar.

“Damn a beer…” another drunken voice belched out. “There’s still a market for the good stuff!”

“Still a market for the good stuff…” Bill said as he laid in bed whispering to himself, thinking about what those seven little words meant while his wife tossed and turned beside him. “Still a market for the good stuff…”

* * * * *

As Sheriff Petitte pulled his pants back up and finished looping his belt, he grunted a few words of exhausted approval Debby’s way as the young Mexican woman tried calming her young son who had become flustered by the presence of Chickasaw’s top lawman in his Mother’s trailer at 3 in the morning. Although Petitte had made frequent stops there over the years, young Frankie was just getting old enough now where he began recognizing stranger’s faces, and each time the Sheriff stopped by late at night, Frankie would cower in fear and confusion as Petitte went about his ‘rightful duty’.

A half dressed Debby Sanchez held back her own tears as she ushered her son back down the narrow hall towards his room. Ben Petitte tried not to, but he couldn’t help looking out of the corner of his eye at the two as they made their way back to Frankie’s room. The Sheriff could see the hint of youthful innocence in Frankie’s face, a look that reminded him of the way the boy’s Mother had appeared over 20 years earlier when Petitte had first discovered her hidden on the back of the truck. Even though he didn’t want to face it either, Petitte also saw the traces of recognition in the young boy’s face that reminded the good Sheriff of the same face he saw in the mirror every morning as well.

Draping his hat back on top of his head, Petitte pushed open the loud, creaky screen door to the trailer and made his way back out into the sultry night. As Petitte approached the squad car, he began cringing immediately, his afterglow completely ruined when the crackling sound of the deputy on patrol that night trying to rouse the Sheriff on the radio. “Sheriff Petitte…come in…this is …come in….This is Dalton Vinford…Sheriff…you there?”

Ben contemplated for a moment to ignore Vinford’s call, but there was something particularly whiny about his voice that made Petitte curious as to it’s intent.

“Yeah…I’m here Dalton…what’s cookin’?” Ben sighed.

“What’s your 20 Sheriff? We got some stuff goin’ down,” Vinford spat excitedly.

“Don’t worry ’bout where I am Vin….what’s going on?” Petitte asked in the tone of a exaspirated Father with a troublesome child.

“Looks like we got a meetin’ goin’ on down here in the Southern canlı bahis siteleri part of the county Ben…..down near the junction of Copperhead Road and 843…..Looks like Bill Southwick again …” Dalton said cryptically, hating like Hell the thought of having to perhaps arrest a longtime friend of his family. “Think I should move in Ben?”

Petitte paused for several moments, holding the receiver in his weathered hands. “Nahhhh….we’ll wait….he probably only has a case or two tonight anyway…Summer’s coming and business will be picking up. We can really nail him to the wall later,” Petitte solemnly relayed his orders to his deputy, hating the idea as well of having to perhaps arrest a good man such as Bill Southwick who happened to just be in a tough spot financially.

“Go on home Dalton…get some sleep..I’ll finish up patrol until first shift reports.” Petitte groaned, as he hung up the receiver.

Ben Petitte yawned mightily as he turned the car’s ignition to start, the tiring effects of his brutal, quick orgasm now combining with the fact he was running on only 2 and a half hours of sleep, causing his whole body to feel as if it was filled with oatmeal.

As he pulled out of the driveway, Petitte ground his teeth, trying to stay awake. The last thing Ben thought he would have to be worrying about as Sheriff of Chickasaw County in the year 2000 was shine running.

Moonshine had always been part of the culture in those parts, Sheriff Petitte in fact had a half full jug of it sitting right beside his Oreo cookie jar in the cupboard at home. In all honesty, Ben Petitte had little interest and energy to worry about stopping the small time commerce that the illegal whiskey market offered in his jurisdiction. On top of that, Petitte knew Southwick was a good man, and from what he had heard about Bill Southwick’s situation, Petitte had guessed Bill had become a desperate man.

Over the past year, Petitte had caught wind that Southwick had built a small still down by the river and was making the whiskey in small quantities for a few select customers around the county, by no means anything bigtime.

The problem with anyone running shine in Chickasaw County wouldn’t have been a problem though, if it wasn’t for the fatal car accident involving Bubba McGowen a few months earlier. McGowen, a lifelong alcoholic and shine connoisseur on one of his binges, had broadsided the car that was being driven by the local preacher’s 16 year old daughter, killing her and her high school sweetheart instantly.

Since that fateful wreck, the local chapter of MADD had stirred up quite a stink in the editorial pages of the paper and with the grassroots movements of small town politics, with the clear intent of cracking down on every form of alcoholic consumption in Chickasaw.

Since those ladies made it a point of going to the polls and 2000 was an election year, there was a real sense of pressure on Benjermin Petitte to at least seem to be committed to stopping the distribution of illegal spirits as his re-election neared.

* * * * *

Bill Southwick was neither a smart, far thinking or particularly patient man. What he was though was a hustler who had a tremendous dedication to supporting his family. In the end, even with the weight that comes with doing an illegal activity when you have a conscience, he decided to do it because he had a Daughter getting ready to start college and a wife to support. Because of the third mortgage on the farm and the downturn in the fortunes of the nation’s farming industry, Southwick felt he had to do it just to keep a roof over the family’s head as well.

Since his Daughter Nadine, who was now 18, had finished high school and was enjoying her last Summer vacation before starting nursing school at Sam Houston State in the Fall, Southwick felt that much more guilt sleeping in during the day and missing the fleeting opportunities to spend time with his Daughter before she left.

Old enough to be significantly up on the town’s gossip, it hadn’t taken long before Nadine Southwick had figured out what her Father was up to when he left the house just after everyone else had gone to bed. Soon thereafter, Nadine confronted her Father, looking for the truth.

Bill had told his wife Lorraine about what he was doing on the side. At first she was worried he was having an affair, but when she saw the amount of tax free revenue he was bringing home, she figured even if he was fooling around, it was well worth putting up with.

Bill thought it would be best though not to tell his Daughter, his pride would be crushed having to admit to turning to illegal activities to be able to put her through college. Nadine had always been an innocent, care free child in his eyes and even though she was a budding young woman, Bill tried keeping himself from seeing her any other light.

He was devastated and full of denial when Nadine had first confronted him with the question about his late night activites. güvenilir bahis He had however taught Nadine never to lie, no matter what, and after some initial temptation to do so himself, Bill finally admitted what he was doing under the radiant moonlight on the dustcovered backroads around his West Texas home.

Sensing his only Daughter was on the verge of leaving the nest, Bill felt a growing sadness with each passing day knowing Nadine would be leaving for college in three short months. That’s why, when she had come to him with the question about what his late night trips entailed as he packed up his pickup for a shine run and offered to ride along with him just so they could share some quality time together, Bill Southwick just couldn’t bring himself to say ‘no’.

Bill knew having Nadine along riding shotgun, seeing her Father doing something in such blatant violation of the law, would fly in the face of every ideal he had tried to install in his Daughter. The clear example however Nadine took away from it was that her Father was willing to do anything, including breaking the law, so that his family could have a decent life.

Reluctantly, Bill invited Nadine along for the ride, knowing the opportunities to still see her as his little girl were dwindling quickly. Once she was off to school, her career and possibly starting a family of her own were not that far in the future.

* * * * *

Ben Petitte sat at his cluttered walnut desk, doodling on a series of scrap pieces of paper at a few minutes after 10, trying to decide if he wanted to call up one of the deputies to finish up the night patrol so he could go home to see his wife, or more likely so he could make a run over to Debby Sanchez’s place for a much needed late night tryst.

In front of him on the loose scraps of paper, Petitte had laid out what he thought the important issues would be in his upcoming re-election bid in September.

Violent crime was down in his county over 50% over the last three years and every form of felony and misdemeanor was lowered across the board as well. The Sheriff’s Office was running well under budget and all in all, Sheriff Benjermin Petitte felt he had the respect, if not the admiration of the residents of Chickasaw County.

Off to his left however, on one of the crumpled scraps of stationary, one little note to himself continued to pester him. The problem of illegal booze dripping in and out of his jurisdiction. This normally wouldn’t have caused Petitte one minute of consternation, but with the MADD faction becoming more and more vocal, the Sheriff knew, somehow, someway, that ‘drip’ had to be addressed.

Slipping on his hat and grabbing the keys to the cruiser, Petitte lumbered out of the office to the sound of a Merle Haggard song blaring from the AM radio in the corner, wondering to himself what tonight’s patrol would hold.

Two things Petitte took pride in knowing were the backroads of his county and the behaviors that good men exhibited when they were under stress. Always one step ahead in the ‘cat and mouse’ game of crime in Chickasaw, Petitte knew almost every detail and schedule that Bill Southwick worked under. Petitte also knew that Southwick knew that the Sheriff knew, but since there hadn’t been a booze bust in Chickasaw in over 20 years, Southwick had an inflated sense of security that the powers that be in the county would continue just looking the other way.

So as Bill Southwick made small talk with his Daughter, his rickety old Dodge truck hiccupping its way up the narrow, dusty expanse of Copperhead Road for a rendezvous at Scott’s Bluff, 20 miles to the South, he thought his eyes were deceiving him when the silent blue flashing lights of a slow moving patrol car appeared several hundred yards behind him.

* * * * *

“Ohhh…shhittt,” Bill groaned, more from amusement and inconvenience than anything else when he saw the flashing blue lights.

“This isn’t good…is it Daddy?” Nadine sighed in a voice much more tinged with worry than her Father’s.

Bill Southwick looked over at his Daughter, sensing a healthy bit a fear beginning to ooze from her pores. It was almost two in the morning and as Southwick’s rickety pickup lurched its way through the dark, humid Texas night with 11 cases of illegal whiskey covered on the bed. Bill reached over and placed his reassuring hand on Nadine’s thigh, “Its going to be OK Honey…Its going to be OK.”

“I think ole’ Sheriff Petitte just wants to scare us a little,” Bill continued, trying to calm his worried Daughter’s nerves. “At least its the big guy and not one of his young punk deputies trying to make a name for himself.”

Bill slowly eased his coughing Dodge off to the side of the road and when it came to rest, he gently switched off the ignition. Looking back behind them, both Nadine and her Father waited for Sheriff Petitte to emerge from his cruiser to let them know what was wrong.

Thankfully, Bill thought to himself, Petitte had turned on his lights without the accompanying sirens that would have attracted perhaps more attention to the scene than either man really wanted.

Bill jumped slightly upon hearing Petitte’s car door slam shut behind him, and much to his chagrin, Southwick suddenly felt a strange sense of awkwardness overtake him.

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Letter To Jenna

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Babes

Dear Jenna.

I received this diary entry in my mail today; I am not to sure from whom. I would have normally never read such a personal letter, until I seen Carl’s and my name in it. But, it was the hottest letter Carl or I had ever read so we decided to show you, what would probably happen if it were (and I wish it were) true.

Carl and I lay there cuddling, whispering how much we loved each other and how fucking hot that was. Pulling me closer, he started caressing my ass, while running his tongue over my lips. The tingling that only he can do started in my loins. He was kissing and nibbling down my neck, I bent my head and sucked one of his hard nips into my mouth. Flicking it with the tip of my tongue, I caressed the other as they hardened. Biting and nibbling it gently, they hardened even more in mouth. Playfully nipping hard, I giggled as he jumped. “You will have to pay for that,” he growled, smiling. “Yeah, What cha gunna do to me?” I teased. He pulled me halfway türkçe bahis a crossed him, while I squirmed to get away, laughing.

He ran his finger down my back and into my crack, dipping his finger inside my still wet cunt, I gasped. Sending tremors of excitement through me! Pumping his finger in and out of my wetness, I told him I wanted to taste you and him together. Getting up on my hands and knees, he kept diddling me with his finger as I swirled circles on the tip of his hard cock with my tongue. God, you two tasted so good together as I deep throated him so I could get it all, he was moaning loudly. I felt him pulling his finger out of me and tried to protest but it’s hard to talk with that much meat in your mouth. As I sucked his rock hard cock, he pulled his hand back and swatted my butt.

Didn’t hurt but it surprised me as I yelped. He held my head down on his massive member and swatted again. “I told ya that you would have to pay,” iddaa siteleri he said chuckling. We had read about men and women swatting each other and thought it was pretty hot I could not believe how good, him swatting me felt, I felt tremors run up and down me with every swat. With each swat, it sort of stung but not enough to make him stop, more of an electrical tingle!

I was getting so wet from him swatting my bare butt that I was whimpering around his tasty tool. “Damn!” I thought, “About three more swats and I’m gunna explode.” He must of known that because he pulled my mouth off his cock so fast, it made a popping sound. He pulled me to his mouth as he licked and kissed my pink tingling bottom with tenderness only a man in love could have for his smoldering wife. Much like you would lick an ice cream cone, quick and thoroughly. The feeling of him tickling my ass with his tongue was just too much. I turned around and straddled him and slid him deneme bonusu veren siteler inside my trembling cunny.

Both of us, moaning from the pure intensity, of him pounding my pussy so hard. Bouncing up and down on him so hard that my breasts were shaking. I looked down into my husbands eyes, I could see how much he wanted me, needed me! “You look so fucking sexy baby,” he whispered. Hollering loud, from the power only he had on me, I started to cum all over his swollen shaft, I could feel him shaking as he yelled he was cumming too and we both rode wave after wave into orgasmic heaven.

Lying on top of him trying to get our breath back, he was holding me tight. Then I noticed that you and John were done with your shower and standing there watching us. Carl and I started laughing as we got up off the floor. “Well we had to do Something, while you were in the shower!” I said laughing, pulling Carl towards the shower. “Hey, while we take a shower, order a pizza, Okay?” I said over my shoulder still laughing.

“I hope this is what you were thinking of Jenna? Let me know okay? I have also noticed how hot you are and wondered what you tasted like? Maybe one day I’ll have your hot cum on my tongue, then and only then we’ll our dreams be met.” Love Carrie

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Laurie and Shellie Ch. 02: Husband

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Redhead

This is the second part of Laurie’s fantasy that she’s sharing with her friend Shellie. I’m sorry it took me so long to write the second part. Thank you to everyone who shared their thoughts on the first part. I think I responded to everyone unless your feedback didn’t include a way to respond. I appreciate all thoughts and suggestions on the story or anything else. And I appreciate your encouragement.

++++++++++++++++++++++

Shellie couldn’t believe how excited her friend made her. Her best friend and occasional lover Laurie managed to drive her to erotic heights with her fantasies. Her visual teasing of a married man and then fantasy about taking a married man was so decadent that it was really just a fantasy at least until Laurie acted on it and it became an obsession with Shellie too. Now the whole scene was Shellie’s constant daydream and longing. She wanted to know more and couldn’t wait until she heard again from Laurie.

She and Laurie weren’t lovers, not quite. They did play together and share intimate secrets and fantasies. And no one else ever made Shellie quite as comfortable with her inner lustiness. But this was her new obsession. She couldn’t stop thinking of her dirty friend taking a married man. She pictured watching them every time she touched herself now.

It was Friday night and she was waiting for Laurie to call. She was hoping and eager, almost obsessed. As she walked in the door to her house, her cell phone rang and she eagerly answered it. “I’ve been waiting for you my delicious friend. I’ve been a little obsessed about you and your latest fetish which is turning into my fetish.”

Laurie was very pleased with her friend’s reaction. She wanted her to be thinking about it constantly and things could not have gone better. It was clearly time to move to another level with her friend.

“Shellie, I’m so happy you can share this with me. I was more aroused telling you in the bar than I was when I was there and taking the married man I had chosen for myself. I took him because I wanted him but I need you to be part of my acquisition too. Have you been thinking of this? Have you been imagining me? Watching me? Seeing me? Are you thinking about right now? Be honest with me, my slut, you’re starting to get excited right this second, aren’t you?”

Laurie was exactly right about Shellie. Shellie was on fire. She was thinking about her friend and every second getting wetter. In fact, she was so happy to be alone at home and seated on a chair and had a hand under her skirt her imagination going wild in conjunction with her friend’s words. She twitched when her friend called her “my slut.”

When she spoke, she found her vice was breathless. “Laurie, please, you are making me crazy. This is all I think about, like you cast a spell on me. This isn’t just a fantasy, it is consuming me. I want you to take any man you choose. bahis siteleri I want to see it, to hear about it, to witness your possession. He is so lucky to be chosen by you, to be taken by you as your own, and I am lucky to be part of it. I’m lucky to hear about it and to see it all if you let me. I don’t care that he’s married. That makes it better and lustier. I would say it doesn’t matter but actually it makes it better. You want him and you took him from his other woman. She can’t compete, she can only let him go. If she knows or when she finds out, she won’t even complain. She’ll know you’re better and you deserve whatever man you choose to take. If she’s smart all she’ll want to do is watch and feel honored that you’re doing what used to be her man. Laurie, I’m almost dripping now, my hands are shaking.”

Laurie smiled to herself and was very pleased that Shellie was reacting just as she should. After all this was about Shellie too not just Laurie. Shellie’s reaction and excitement made her happy.

“Shellie, darling, do you want to see something? Can you come over to my place and I can set it up so you might be shocked or fulfilled? It’s Friday night and everything is falling into place. Can you be here at 7? Please?”

Shellie agreed, her husband was working late so she was free to go. She got to Laurie’s nearby house early and tried to wait but ended up knocking ten minutes early.

Laurie smiled and said, “so eager.” Then she took Shellie back to talk while she finished dressing.

Shellie was nervous and excited and asked, “what do I do? Do I come with you? Won’t the guy see me? Do I hide? Where are you meeting?”

Laurie took Shellie’s hand to calm her. “Hush, darling. You can wait here. See this chair in from of a TV screen? I have a camera planted at his house in their bedroom! He doesn’t know but you get to watch everything. I think you’ll be amazed. Now take a seat here.”

Shellie was trembling at the thought of watching her friend with anyone. And this wicked fantasy made it even better. She looked at the screen and sat down in the chair even though it would be a while before anything happened.

By this time Laurie was ready to go and had texted the man who told her the coast was clear. She turned to Shellie and put restraints on her wrists quickly. It took Shellie by surprise.

“Shellie, don’t worry. I’ve always wanted to tie you up and how fun it is that you’re tied in my bedroom. I’m shifting the restraints up your arm a little. I have the key but you should be able to move your arms a bit in case you have an itch you need to scratch.”

Laurie was so seductive and fun that Shellie didn’t complain but took it all in as part of the erotic moment. “Damn, Laurie this gets more wicked by the moment. I’m like a captured girl entertained and restrained by her mistress. And a canlı bahis siteleri good thing it is because I’m so thrilled I can hardly see straight. I can’t wait to watch you, to watch you fuck some woman’s husband. Oh. Oh.”

Laurie just smiled and hurried away to her plan. She only had to drive a short distance and she just let herself into the house and found her prey. The man was as aroused as Shellie had been and it was easy to get him into the bedroom. And while his back was turned, Laurie snuck over to the one dresser and flipped on the hidden camera making sure to wiggle her tongue for the camera.

Back home Shellie saw the camera start and cried out. She could only see Laurie’s tongue and then her back blocking the camera shot. She could hear Laurie but most of the man’s speech was muffled so far. But she did hear Laurie say “I’m going to fuck you in your wife’s bed and I really wish I could have her watch it happen.”

The man must have been on the bed watching because the next Shellie saw was Laurie reaching behind her and unzipping the back of her skirt, the part facing the camera. As the skirt dropped she saw black panties framed by a garter belt. She heard Laurie telling the man to stroke slower.

Shellie watched and realized she was getting very wet. She didn’t touch herself yet because she would have had an orgasm in a minute or two. She watched carefully as Laurie took off her blouse and threw it aside and walked away from the camera toward the man. Shellie’s eyes were on her friend filling the frame of the shot. She couldn’t hear the man but finally saw his naked legs. She was thrilled. Her friend was about to take the man and was letting her watch. She was a little jealous. She and Laurie were so much more than friends now. As her friend straddled the married man’s knee, she could see Laurie grinding away and she was jealous of the knee. Her beautiful friend was really her lover she decided and she was a part of this. She wanted Laurie to fuck him. She wanted her to take the married man and make him her own. That’s all that mattered.

Shellie’s hands were tied but she was just able to reach down and touch her own panties and feel her own wetness. She was excited and lost in this naughty moment. She watched as Laurie started to kneel before the man, the lucky man who was lucky just to be wanted by Laurie.

As the picture opened up, Shellie recognized the bedroom. It was familiar. The man’s face became visible also as Laurie knelt down to take him in her mouth. He looked familiar to Shellie. It was her husband staring down as wonderful, sexy Laurie knelt down and gave him a blowjob. Shellie stopped rubbing her panties but couldn’t look away. She didn’t know how to feel and she was confused by her own feelings. Anger and lust are a strange mix of feelings.

Shellie was tied up, shaking, güvenilir bahis and unable to look away. Very soon, Laurie stood up and turned around and then lowered herself onto Shellie’s husband. With her eyes closed she started bouncing slowly. It made Shellie angry to watch. Her friend taking her own husband. The bitch.

Then Laurie opened her eyes and moves faster. She looked straight into the camera and smiled. It was a very sultry, sexy, dirty smile. The smile of a woman staring through the camera at her best friend while she rode her husband’s cock deep inside her. Shellie would never admit it but it made her touch herself and groan loudly all alone and all tied up. She said out loud even though no one was there, “you bitch, how dare you?”

But as angry as she was and as true as that part of her feeling was, there was another part. Her hands weren’t agreeing with her voice because her hands were touching herself. She was tied up but could touch. She slipped her hand inside her wet panties and played with herself. She didn’t realize it but her hip were moving to help fuck her hand just in the exact same way her best friend was moving her own hips up and down on Shellie’s husband.

Shellie groaned as she heard Laurie on camera lean forward and say, “Oh that’s perfect, that cock feels so good deep inside me. I’m getting so close. It feels so good. I bet your wife never fucks you like this. I wish I could see her face as your warm cum explodes deep inside me while you fuck me in her bed.”

Shellie’s husband wasn’t talking. He probably didn’t even here everything said because Laurie was facing away from him and talking into the camera. Shellie could feel Laurie’s eyes making contact through the camera and holding her. Laurie would know that Shellie couldn’t help herself. She was teasing her, torturing her, and bouncing on her husband. “Oh yes, yes, I can feel that cock throb. Come on, baby, thrust deep inside me, yes, just like that Oh yes, oh fuck yes! I feel it and I’m going to come too. YESSSSSSSSSSS.” The whole time Laurie held the camera with her eyes and stared through it so Shellie saw the orgasm and could sense the moment her husband came too.

Shellie came too and was still shaking minutes later when her slutty friend finally recovered enough to speak. Laurie flicked her tongue seductively at the camera and almost whispered at it, “I hope you came too, that’s a good girl.”

Then she heard Laurie say to her husband, “I’m borrowing a pair of panties. I wouldn’t mention it to her. I have to go now darling. I want to leave before your wife me fucking you in her bed but I need your cock inside me again soon. Try not to think of me every time you fuck her.”

The she giggled and they both left the room. In a few minutes the camera went off. Maybe Laurie had a remote in her car. Then nothing. Shellie sat there with her panties wet from her orgasm but not even knowing what to think.

Twenty minutes later Shellie hadn’t heard the door but felt breath in her ear and her friend whisper and she leaned down and stroked Shellie’s panties “Oh so wet. I guess there was something good on the monitor.”

(to be continued)

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Liberties Taken in Copperhead Road

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Anal

Sheriff Benjermin Deane Petitte sat patiently in his squad car outside the rundown trailer that belonged to Debby Sanchez. It was a quarter till 2 in the morning, and Sheriff Petitte was certain Debby had already gone to bed, the entire trailer was awash in darkness. He continued to sit there however in his squad car, admiring the still calm of the night, finishing of a Camel nonfilter.

It was just another painfully slow night in his bucolic, West Texas town and the Sheriff was bored. When he got bored on his late night rounds, Sheriff Petitte’s attentions tended to gravitate, every so often, to Debby Sanchez’s trailer on the outskirts of town.

It didn’t matter that Debby was probably asleep, Petitte reasoned. She would always be eternally grateful for the little favor Benjermin Petitte did for her and her family nearly 20 years earlier.

* * * * *

The unbearably hot and humid August night back in 1978 when Debby Sanchez’s fortunes were forever connected to those of then deputy Benny Petitte’s, started out as a simple dream and longing for freedom that went horribly wrong.

Deputy Petitte had pulled over a covered, beat up truck on the outskirts of Chickasaw for not having any tags on the back. Upon further investigation, Benny had found four very scared Mexicans hiding underneath the tarp, huddled together and praying.

The driver of the truck had gotten six months in jail for the indiscretion, even though he steadfastly denied knowing there were stowaways on the bed of his pickup.

The fate of the four members of the Sanchez family that were busted in the arrest took a more twisted and interesting route however. Procedure would have dictated that the arresting officer would have called for back up, the aliens would have been detained, processed, then eventually ushered back across the border only to try and enter the U.S. again later.

The three women and one man that the illegal ‘cargo ‘ consisted of would have undoubtedly been sent back to the drug and poverty infested slums of Northern Mexico in quick order if it wasn’t for the great sense of patriotism bubbling through the veins of the young deputy that sticky Texas night over 20 years earlier.

That illegal ‘cargo” consisted of Marisslassius Sanchez, her cousin Emmanuelle, Emmanuelle’s husband Juaquin, and Marisslassius’s then four year old daughter, Delia, who would later change her name to Debby when she grew up and tried to make herself seem more “American”.

* * * * *

As Petitte sat there in his cruiser, looking lustfully at the darkened windows of the trailer, he satisfiedly replayed the events of that night nearly 22 years earlier in his head.

Ben knew Debby would come to the door when he knocked and would certainly let him in as she had done hundreds of times before. After all, it was the good Sheriff who, when he was just a lowly deputy, had allowed those four stowaways under the blanket of that raggedy pickup to slip away ‘accidentally” into the Texas night before his backup could arrive.

All it took for that little lapse of containment was a blowjob from both Emmanuelle and Marisslassius while Emmanuelle’s husband and Marisslassius’s Daughter were forced to look on as their four ‘green cards” were validated.

Ben Petitte had then proceeded to make those four family members his pet project over the next 20 years, keeping them safe from deportation, pulling a few strings at some of the local industries to give the four a chance at steady employment, as long as the two women of the group provided Petitte with an occasional ‘thank you” when the feeling hit.

* * * * *

1982 was a good year for Benjermin Petitte. His first son was born that February to his wife Ruby, then in June when Sheriff Benton retired, Ben, being the senior deputy, moved over to the big desk in the Chickasaw County Sheriff’s office.

As the years wore on and Ben became more and more comfortable in the Sheriff’s seat, he had steadily crafted quite a legacy for himself with the residents of the small poverty riddled town.

In 92, Ben’s 10 year anniversary as the county’s top lawman, another interesting thing happened to him. 1992 was the year that little Delia Sanchez had turned 18 and it wasn’t long until Ben made the already jaded young woman part of his seemingly endless repayment plan.

On and off for the next 8 years, Ben would make these late night visits to Debby’s trailer. As the Sheriff discovered the joys of sharing a bed with a young horny spitfire such as Debby, despite the fact that the young woman thought Ben Petitte was the devil incarnate, Ben found less and less use for the two older women that had been involved that night 22 years earlier and focused most of his libidinal outlets onto the young, nubile, and lithe girl.

Emmanuelle had quietly disappeared over the years and Debby’s mother, Marrisslassiuss, had predictably died of a drug overdose soon after her Daughter had submitted to Sheriff Petitte’s advances. Debby thought everyday of bahis siteleri killing the man, but some eternal weakness, need for a job or sick desire for the affection he was giving her made Debby continually tolerate everything Petitte asked of her.

After turning 18, Petitte had pulled a few strings with an old running buddy at the Paliocious Slaughterhouse in town for a clerical job for Debby in the office and she had steadfastly gutted it out and was able to provide a nice, albeit modest, living for herself and her young son who bore a striking resemblance to the Sheriff himself.

“Yes…” Petitte said out loud to himself as he opened the door of his cruiser to make the short walk through the cluttered yard, “…She’ll let me in.”

* * * * *

William Alexander Southwick was a proud man, not always smart, but at the core of his being, he was a proud and faithful Husband and Father.

His Father had trained him to take over the cattle farm on which he was raised and Bill Southwick had faithfully and diligently worked it most of his adult life. When the plight of the small southwestern family farm began to take a severe downturn in the mid 80’s under Reaganomics however, Southwick had to start hustling to make ends meet for his wife and baby daughter, Nadine.

Bill had tried a series of seasonal factory jobs each Winter, but could never seem to stick. So use to working in the wide open fresh air spaces of his fields all day, being cramped up inside a dark, noisy and confining factory all day just didn’t agree with his constitution.

Over the course of a few weeks in the mid 90’s, an idea began creeping into Southwick’s head as he bravely fought the lingering bouts of insomnia that had befallen him.

He had been hanging around with several co-workers from one of the factories one night, playing poker and drinking when someone passed around a mason jar full of a clear white liquid.

Southwick took a long slow sip, knowing immediately what it was as soon as the first drops of it blazed down his unsuspecting throat. It was the first taste of moonshine Bill had swallowed since he was in his early 20’s, many a moon ago. His uncle, Sylvester Southwick, had once made a potent brew in small quantities for just his family and close friends.

“I haven’t seen any of this shit in years,” Bill winced, preparing himself for another brutal swig from the jar.

“Damn a beer…” another drunken voice belched out. “There’s still a market for the good stuff!”

“Still a market for the good stuff…” Bill said as he laid in bed whispering to himself, thinking about what those seven little words meant while his wife tossed and turned beside him. “Still a market for the good stuff…”

* * * * *

As Sheriff Petitte pulled his pants back up and finished looping his belt, he grunted a few words of exhausted approval Debby’s way as the young Mexican woman tried calming her young son who had become flustered by the presence of Chickasaw’s top lawman in his Mother’s trailer at 3 in the morning. Although Petitte had made frequent stops there over the years, young Frankie was just getting old enough now where he began recognizing stranger’s faces, and each time the Sheriff stopped by late at night, Frankie would cower in fear and confusion as Petitte went about his ‘rightful duty’.

A half dressed Debby Sanchez held back her own tears as she ushered her son back down the narrow hall towards his room. Ben Petitte tried not to, but he couldn’t help looking out of the corner of his eye at the two as they made their way back to Frankie’s room. The Sheriff could see the hint of youthful innocence in Frankie’s face, a look that reminded him of the way the boy’s Mother had appeared over 20 years earlier when Petitte had first discovered her hidden on the back of the truck. Even though he didn’t want to face it either, Petitte also saw the traces of recognition in the young boy’s face that reminded the good Sheriff of the same face he saw in the mirror every morning as well.

Draping his hat back on top of his head, Petitte pushed open the loud, creaky screen door to the trailer and made his way back out into the sultry night. As Petitte approached the squad car, he began cringing immediately, his afterglow completely ruined when the crackling sound of the deputy on patrol that night trying to rouse the Sheriff on the radio. “Sheriff Petitte…come in…this is …come in….This is Dalton Vinford…Sheriff…you there?”

Ben contemplated for a moment to ignore Vinford’s call, but there was something particularly whiny about his voice that made Petitte curious as to it’s intent.

“Yeah…I’m here Dalton…what’s cookin’?” Ben sighed.

“What’s your 20 Sheriff? We got some stuff goin’ down,” Vinford spat excitedly.

“Don’t worry ’bout where I am Vin….what’s going on?” Petitte asked in the tone of a exaspirated Father with a troublesome child.

“Looks like we got a meetin’ goin’ on down here in the Southern canlı bahis siteleri part of the county Ben…..down near the junction of Copperhead Road and 843…..Looks like Bill Southwick again …” Dalton said cryptically, hating like Hell the thought of having to perhaps arrest a longtime friend of his family. “Think I should move in Ben?”

Petitte paused for several moments, holding the receiver in his weathered hands. “Nahhhh….we’ll wait….he probably only has a case or two tonight anyway…Summer’s coming and business will be picking up. We can really nail him to the wall later,” Petitte solemnly relayed his orders to his deputy, hating the idea as well of having to perhaps arrest a good man such as Bill Southwick who happened to just be in a tough spot financially.

“Go on home Dalton…get some sleep..I’ll finish up patrol until first shift reports.” Petitte groaned, as he hung up the receiver.

Ben Petitte yawned mightily as he turned the car’s ignition to start, the tiring effects of his brutal, quick orgasm now combining with the fact he was running on only 2 and a half hours of sleep, causing his whole body to feel as if it was filled with oatmeal.

As he pulled out of the driveway, Petitte ground his teeth, trying to stay awake. The last thing Ben thought he would have to be worrying about as Sheriff of Chickasaw County in the year 2000 was shine running.

Moonshine had always been part of the culture in those parts, Sheriff Petitte in fact had a half full jug of it sitting right beside his Oreo cookie jar in the cupboard at home. In all honesty, Ben Petitte had little interest and energy to worry about stopping the small time commerce that the illegal whiskey market offered in his jurisdiction. On top of that, Petitte knew Southwick was a good man, and from what he had heard about Bill Southwick’s situation, Petitte had guessed Bill had become a desperate man.

Over the past year, Petitte had caught wind that Southwick had built a small still down by the river and was making the whiskey in small quantities for a few select customers around the county, by no means anything bigtime.

The problem with anyone running shine in Chickasaw County wouldn’t have been a problem though, if it wasn’t for the fatal car accident involving Bubba McGowen a few months earlier. McGowen, a lifelong alcoholic and shine connoisseur on one of his binges, had broadsided the car that was being driven by the local preacher’s 16 year old daughter, killing her and her high school sweetheart instantly.

Since that fateful wreck, the local chapter of MADD had stirred up quite a stink in the editorial pages of the paper and with the grassroots movements of small town politics, with the clear intent of cracking down on every form of alcoholic consumption in Chickasaw.

Since those ladies made it a point of going to the polls and 2000 was an election year, there was a real sense of pressure on Benjermin Petitte to at least seem to be committed to stopping the distribution of illegal spirits as his re-election neared.

* * * * *

Bill Southwick was neither a smart, far thinking or particularly patient man. What he was though was a hustler who had a tremendous dedication to supporting his family. In the end, even with the weight that comes with doing an illegal activity when you have a conscience, he decided to do it because he had a Daughter getting ready to start college and a wife to support. Because of the third mortgage on the farm and the downturn in the fortunes of the nation’s farming industry, Southwick felt he had to do it just to keep a roof over the family’s head as well.

Since his Daughter Nadine, who was now 18, had finished high school and was enjoying her last Summer vacation before starting nursing school at Sam Houston State in the Fall, Southwick felt that much more guilt sleeping in during the day and missing the fleeting opportunities to spend time with his Daughter before she left.

Old enough to be significantly up on the town’s gossip, it hadn’t taken long before Nadine Southwick had figured out what her Father was up to when he left the house just after everyone else had gone to bed. Soon thereafter, Nadine confronted her Father, looking for the truth.

Bill had told his wife Lorraine about what he was doing on the side. At first she was worried he was having an affair, but when she saw the amount of tax free revenue he was bringing home, she figured even if he was fooling around, it was well worth putting up with.

Bill thought it would be best though not to tell his Daughter, his pride would be crushed having to admit to turning to illegal activities to be able to put her through college. Nadine had always been an innocent, care free child in his eyes and even though she was a budding young woman, Bill tried keeping himself from seeing her any other light.

He was devastated and full of denial when Nadine had first confronted him with the question about his late night activites. güvenilir bahis He had however taught Nadine never to lie, no matter what, and after some initial temptation to do so himself, Bill finally admitted what he was doing under the radiant moonlight on the dustcovered backroads around his West Texas home.

Sensing his only Daughter was on the verge of leaving the nest, Bill felt a growing sadness with each passing day knowing Nadine would be leaving for college in three short months. That’s why, when she had come to him with the question about what his late night trips entailed as he packed up his pickup for a shine run and offered to ride along with him just so they could share some quality time together, Bill Southwick just couldn’t bring himself to say ‘no’.

Bill knew having Nadine along riding shotgun, seeing her Father doing something in such blatant violation of the law, would fly in the face of every ideal he had tried to install in his Daughter. The clear example however Nadine took away from it was that her Father was willing to do anything, including breaking the law, so that his family could have a decent life.

Reluctantly, Bill invited Nadine along for the ride, knowing the opportunities to still see her as his little girl were dwindling quickly. Once she was off to school, her career and possibly starting a family of her own were not that far in the future.

* * * * *

Ben Petitte sat at his cluttered walnut desk, doodling on a series of scrap pieces of paper at a few minutes after 10, trying to decide if he wanted to call up one of the deputies to finish up the night patrol so he could go home to see his wife, or more likely so he could make a run over to Debby Sanchez’s place for a much needed late night tryst.

In front of him on the loose scraps of paper, Petitte had laid out what he thought the important issues would be in his upcoming re-election bid in September.

Violent crime was down in his county over 50% over the last three years and every form of felony and misdemeanor was lowered across the board as well. The Sheriff’s Office was running well under budget and all in all, Sheriff Benjermin Petitte felt he had the respect, if not the admiration of the residents of Chickasaw County.

Off to his left however, on one of the crumpled scraps of stationary, one little note to himself continued to pester him. The problem of illegal booze dripping in and out of his jurisdiction. This normally wouldn’t have caused Petitte one minute of consternation, but with the MADD faction becoming more and more vocal, the Sheriff knew, somehow, someway, that ‘drip’ had to be addressed.

Slipping on his hat and grabbing the keys to the cruiser, Petitte lumbered out of the office to the sound of a Merle Haggard song blaring from the AM radio in the corner, wondering to himself what tonight’s patrol would hold.

Two things Petitte took pride in knowing were the backroads of his county and the behaviors that good men exhibited when they were under stress. Always one step ahead in the ‘cat and mouse’ game of crime in Chickasaw, Petitte knew almost every detail and schedule that Bill Southwick worked under. Petitte also knew that Southwick knew that the Sheriff knew, but since there hadn’t been a booze bust in Chickasaw in over 20 years, Southwick had an inflated sense of security that the powers that be in the county would continue just looking the other way.

So as Bill Southwick made small talk with his Daughter, his rickety old Dodge truck hiccupping its way up the narrow, dusty expanse of Copperhead Road for a rendezvous at Scott’s Bluff, 20 miles to the South, he thought his eyes were deceiving him when the silent blue flashing lights of a slow moving patrol car appeared several hundred yards behind him.

* * * * *

“Ohhh…shhittt,” Bill groaned, more from amusement and inconvenience than anything else when he saw the flashing blue lights.

“This isn’t good…is it Daddy?” Nadine sighed in a voice much more tinged with worry than her Father’s.

Bill Southwick looked over at his Daughter, sensing a healthy bit a fear beginning to ooze from her pores. It was almost two in the morning and as Southwick’s rickety pickup lurched its way through the dark, humid Texas night with 11 cases of illegal whiskey covered on the bed. Bill reached over and placed his reassuring hand on Nadine’s thigh, “Its going to be OK Honey…Its going to be OK.”

“I think ole’ Sheriff Petitte just wants to scare us a little,” Bill continued, trying to calm his worried Daughter’s nerves. “At least its the big guy and not one of his young punk deputies trying to make a name for himself.”

Bill slowly eased his coughing Dodge off to the side of the road and when it came to rest, he gently switched off the ignition. Looking back behind them, both Nadine and her Father waited for Sheriff Petitte to emerge from his cruiser to let them know what was wrong.

Thankfully, Bill thought to himself, Petitte had turned on his lights without the accompanying sirens that would have attracted perhaps more attention to the scene than either man really wanted.

Bill jumped slightly upon hearing Petitte’s car door slam shut behind him, and much to his chagrin, Southwick suddenly felt a strange sense of awkwardness overtake him.

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Anal

Everybody has preferences, likes and dislikes, and most often, we do not really know why. What triggered our likes and desires? Why do we hate specific smells, tastes? Why do we get excited at certain sights that leave the next man cold, why do certain other things that drive another man to white heat leave us cold? In some cases, we can analyze it or find out in another way, but most often, our tastes are just what they are, and no reasons obvious for the why.

I like raven-haired petite women in a short figure-hugging leather dress, a bit older than myself with pert, well-rounded bottocks. And I know exactly why.

While during my adulthood the issue was to find raven-haired girls in leather to play with (something I became quite good at, also thanks to loosening public morale), it now becomes an issue to find them older than myself and still slim with a pert shapely arse, as my story happened a very long time ago, in another country where I spent my misspent youth.

At that time, I lived in a student dorm that beyond the usual bed-roof-companionship combination offered some more perks. It had a very active social calendar, with planned visits from local and foreign student groups, its own bar and beer pump and facilities to serve meals three times a day for which you could (and were expected to) subscribe. The members also used the sports facilities together and trained for sports competitions.

The House was managed by students and financed by alumni. Whoever joined was a lifetime member with varying tasks over one’s life.

In 1st and 2nd year: party fodder. New members were the heart and soul of the House. They participated in all events, partied, received the guests and lived in the House.

In year 3 and 4, the members grew into roles of organizing activities, leading the group, managing finances and organizing the external support needed. These roles were seen as officers’ roles with a certain amount of power over the stripelings.

In year 5 one usually became an alumnus and paid an annual due as soon as one made a living.

The older members were also available as mentors in personally or academically difficult situations and for many students, the network of alumni acted as an extremely efficient career booster.

The House was a Victorian building from the 1880ies built of brownish sandstone with arches and vaults everywhere, a lovely building that could have been renovated into a real gem hadn´t there been the students with their moderate sense for order and cleanliness and their constant parties that included a generous amount of drinking and carousing. The alumni curbed the most extreme excesses but left the students a relatively free rein, exactly as they had enjoyed one generation before, or two or three.

The House could not have been run without the help of a couple, janitors does not entirely describe their role. He was responsible for small repairs around the building, grilling and pulling beer at festivities. She was in charge of food, three meals a day for between 4 people (during term breaks) to 30 people (during term), occasionally a banquet for special days where up to 100 alumni joined; this and the tidiness and cleanliness of the house in general.

This was not a task we envied her for and particularly not the day after one of the rowdy beer parties. The whole ground floor stood full of empty and half-empty glasses, the floor was sticky from spilled beer and sometimes, there were the last revelers snoring on a sofa, a chair or leaning in a corner, wherever Morpheus had overpowered them.

A good couple made a huge difference for the whole House and they were always in high demand from other Houses. We were envied for ours as they were performing their tasks outstandingly well and never gave us students a hard time. Yes, our couple was a gem. They both were Croats who had fled the country and had lived here since the war. I cannot recollect their name anymore, after all, the story I am telling happened a long time ago. But let us call them Mr. and Mrs. Juric, that does suit them well.

I must have been in my third or fourth year in the House and my role at the time was that of the House’s Steward. I was responsible for everything to do with food and drink, I discussed events and the weekly menu with Mrs. Juric, I ordered wine and beer and I was responsible for cleaning and maintaining the beer pumps. If the latter sounds like a lowly chore, this is misunderstanding the importance of the beer pump.

In Christian churches, life revolves around the altar stone, the Jews in the Sinai danced around the Golden Calf, Muslim life revolves around the Qu’aaba in Mekkah. Our life at that time revolved around the beer pump. Not cleaning it properly, a malfunction during a big event, or any other laxity had you immediately stripped of your rank and excluded from the House for a set time. I cleaned and maintained that pump religiously and could even today, decades later, disassemble and re-assemble it blindly. But I digress.

It was in my fourth year when we had the visit of another House, old friends of the House illegal bahis since at least 20 years and the beer party in the evening had taken off like a rocket, as these things tend to do. Drinking games, challenges, daring speeches, competitions, songs, always lots of songs, and lots and lots of beer.

At two in the morning, the group was considerably decimated, and at three, all but six or seven had gone to bed. We decided to retire from the large wood-paneled hall to the Red Salon, a smaller room with plush armchairs and blood-red velvet draperies that gave it its name.

The small group had entered together the Golden Hour, that magic time sometimes experienced towards the end of raucous parties. A small group, the fever has dropped, everybody is quite drunk, not yet fully out of order, but already a bit exhausted. Discussions ensue on a subject that are pursued in ernest, it can be anything from extremely philosophical to downright ridiculous. I found myself at one time arguing whether or not souls had a fixed size, carrying away the day with the remark that souls could not have a fixed size, they had to vary by species, otherwise a flea’s soul would go beyond its body, sort of spill out and would be visible. Solemn nods, wise words, it sounded very true at that moment.

The most remarkable thing is that these discussions are led with the ultimate seriousness and meaningfulness. Yesterday is gone, tomorrow not quite here, everybody draped over the armchairs, dreamy, happy. You feel engulfed in this golden cocoon that bathes everything and everybody in its warm and comforting light and shines deep into your soul.

It was one of these golden moments, and one of the remaining guests said:

“Your housekeeper”, he referred to Mrs. Juric, “she is hot”. A discussion started if this was the case, a serious and slow discussion with long, pensive pauses. The main arguments for it were her looks, she occasionally wore short dresses, among them a black leather dress, her friendly smile she gave all of us so freely and the tight dress she had worn today. The argument against it was that she was OLD. She could not have been a day older than 35, but for us at 19 or 20, that was old and even though we were full of sap and strength, most of us could not see her as an object of our desires, or so we thought.

“Does she do it…” was a tentative question from our guests. We did not understand what he meant, a pause followed, the idea was far from our minds, so he added after a short pause “… you know, does she do it with you?” Now that was a droll idea and we said truthfully, that no, she did not, and we had not heard anything from the Alumni that she had done at any time or ever. Silence descended upon us again while our guests considered the information and we grappled with the concept that Mrs. Juric was a woman and we were men, and therefore, theoretically, …

“I bet she wears a garter belt under her skirts” one of the guests said softly after a while. That was a statement of incredible audacity and eroticism; in the time of the pantyhose as a key element of women’s wardrobe, a garter belt was a symbol of naughty girls that liked to play. The thought of Mrs. Juric who fastens her nylons while being bare-legged… You could see how the thought made its way through everyone’s mind, sparked more secret thoughts that each of us carefully protected and did not share … except for one guest:

“I bet she even wears a G-string underneath her skirt while she is about the House…” That was a shocking thought; to our knowledge only skanks wore this kind of incendiary underwear to excite their customers. The thought alone that Mrs. Juric’s buns were naked under her skirt, nothing but her skirt hiding them from our view, while she served food at lunch…

“Only sluts wear lingerie” stated one of my friends forcefully, thinking this would close the debate. I felt like a real bon vivant when I testingly said:

“And …?” A thundering silence ensued. Everybody stared at me, mouth agape. What had I insinuated here? Did I really mean what she was … Me, the person that probably had most to do with Mrs. Juric. A shocked silence reigned, I was possibly most shocked of us all by my own audacity. My question had closed the debate.

The next morning, it must have been around nine, I was seemingly the only soul alive in the House. I was in one of the vaulted cellars where we stocked beer barrels and connected them to riser pipes that brought the beer to the tap room. The stone vault was sparsely illuminated and cool, which is always welcome after a hard night’s drinking.

I was checking how much beer was left from yesterday’s debauchery. Did we have enough to make it to Friday, where the next delivery was expected? Just barely enough, we did not have any planned activities until Friday, but I found it wiser to later go and borrow a barrel at one of the neighbouring Houses to be on the safe side.

My head was hurting, I had a funny stomach, but what a night it had been… I bent forward, tapped on one of the gas control valves and saw with satisfaction casino siteleri that the meter jumped up a couple of clicks before coming down again. Despite the cool cellar air and the muted lights, the bending down had made my head spin and my stomach started to rebel. I sat down on a nearby chair until the room around me stopped spinning and came to a standstill.

It was at that moment that I heard the clacking of heels.

In the archway stood from one moment to the other Mrs. Juric.

I saw her in the half light and saw her for the first time not as our housekeeper, but as what she was: a beautiful, hot-blooded woman in her prime. She had a mass of jet black curls falling in cascades over her shoulders; it framed a finely cut face with high cheekbones and a strong nose, the nostrils of which were twitching. Her face was flushed and her nearly black eyes sparkled, she was visibly angry.

God, she looked desirable. I realize for the first time her slim, finely muscled legs of a dancer, her flaring hips, the slim waist and wide shoulders, her chest heaving visibly from emotion. Yes, she was angry, and yes, she looked intoxicating. She stormed towards me, heels clacking and I managed a feeble smile, a short wave with my hand, anything else would have triggered a cataclysm in my stomach.

She wore as always high heels, this time shiny black shoes with very thin high heels. How could she work with these shoes, how could she clean and tidy up? And were these the shoes of a decent woman, or did they make her a … The thought hit me for the first time.

She wore the black leather one-piece dress that had been mentioned yesterday in support of her hotness, you could probably call it glace leather, it seemed very smooth and very thin and it followed her body’s every curve and movement. It was cut close to her delicate neck but the leather clung to her bust, not hiding it, but displaying it like the statue of a roman goddess. She had medium-sized apple-shaped round breasts that moved temptingly under the leather. And the hem of the dress was very short, more than two hands above her knee, yes, much closer to … well, her little paradise than to her knees. I felt how I got hot just seeing her.

She stood in front of me, hands on her shapely hips and scolded me:

“I am not happy with you, Mr. Carl”, she shook her head which made her curls fly and her breasts jiggle, “Not happy at all! You called me a loose woman in front of your friends last night.” How did she know, had she listened in on our discussion? If so, I was indeed in trouble. In my foggy mind, I tried to muster a defense and opened my mouth. “Tsk, tsk, tsk”, she waved her finger in front of my face, “I want to hear no excuses, Mr. BigMouth, we will sort that out once and for all!” I was dumbfound and did not know what to say.

She stepped back a few steps and said challengingly:

“So, do you think garter belts are for skanks?” She looked at me, I could only make a non-committal sound. “I did not hear that” I managed a mumbled:

“No” I said, to which she nodded.

“Good,” she said and turned sideways in front of me, slightly lifted her heel from to floor and bent her knee, then took the helm of her already too short skirt and lifted it up on the side over her perfect tanned thigh, “because look, no garter straps” I stared unbelieving at the muscles playing under her skin. She moved her shapely leg back and forth to give me a really good look, I saw her toned leg from her shoes to where her halterless stockings ended to nearly her holy of holies without her showing me more than a leg. But what an intoxicating sight it was. I felt very hot and flustered and I gawked until she said:

“No garter, no skank, right?” I stared until she insisted “Right?” I licked my dry lips and mumbled:

“Right” She smiled satisfied, a dangerous, mischievous grin, Croats can be dangerous people, then turned her back to me. Oh gosh, she had really a perfect pert ass. I had never consciously seen her backside before, I looked perfectly shaped, round and slightly gleaming under the black leather. I was officially in lust, my body temperature rose and I felt that something stirred in my trousers. She interrupted my thoughts:

“Mr. Carl, next question to you. Are G-strings only for sluts?” I was too dumbstruck to reply, she had heard the whole discussion. “Mr. Carl?” I stared at her fabulous rump and felt my face go beet red. “Hello, Mr. Carl, this is Earth, do you copy?” I violently shook my head. “So, Mr. Carl, no G-string, no slut? Carl, answer me!” This insolence shook me out of my erotic stupor, I mumbled something.” Not good enough, Carl! Answer me. No G-string, no slut?” Her repeated insolence calling me just by my first name did it and I managed to press out:

“No G-string, no slut.” She smiled at me knowingly, and slowly, ever so slowly, she bent forward. Her anyway short skirt rose up over her thighs, higher, over the end of her legs, her round buttocks sprang out towards me and a dark crack in between them, her glorious cheeks nearly fully exposed while she poker siteleri leaned more and more forward and … there … between her thighs, I saw naked pink folds, lighter than her skin, pink, juicy, rosy folds of her naked pussy between her tanned thighs. I was mesmerized by this display of delights, licked my parched lips …

“No string, Mr. Carl, so no slut” she announced triumphantly before straightening and brushing her skirt back over her treasures. “And now to the question if I am too old to be exciting to you” her confident grin did nothing to reassure me and I was even more troubled when I saw her graciously kneel down and crawl towards me on all fours.

O those round breasts that jumped between her arms while she crawled towards me like a black cat! That fabulous back under the thin gleaming leather, the narrow waist and round arse.

In spite of my sorry state, my trousers became very tight. She was between my thighs and lay a warm hand very close to the growing tent in my pants.

“Let us see if I am too old to excite, or if that was nonsense as well” she said, her eyes squinting cat-like as she slowly unbuttoned my fly and her hand disappeared in my trousers. Her cool hand grabbed me firmly and dragged my pride and joy into the dim light of the cellar.

“My oh my, Carl, what have we here? Not such a small boy after all, our Carl.” She inquisitively lifted an eyebrow, and slowly rubbed my engorged member. “Let us see if you are a good boy, Carl, or if you lust after your old janitor” she stared me in the eye and slowly let her cool hand slide up and down on my hot rod. I moaned with lust and she looked at me in mock surprise: “What is it dear boy, are you in pain?” She rubbed faster now, harder and faster, then gave me a coy smile “Or are you maybe excited by your scrawny janitor”. While she whispered this, her red lips were merely inches away from my purple cock head; I lifted my hips but with an iron grip, she held me down and furiously rubbed my hot shaft. “Ah, little Carl wants to play… Do you Carl?” I was nearly drooling with excitement. She looked up at me expectantly, her mouth now very close to the bulb of my tulip, I could feel her breath going over it as she whispered. “Tell me Carl, do you?” She squeezed my pole hard and extracted a croaked “Yes!” from me.

She slightly blew over my cock head where the first drips of pre-cum showed. Her hand was a flash as she asked me further with an impish smile: “Tell me, what do you want?” I watched her slack jawed and speechless as she rubbed my meat furiously. “Tell, me little Carl, what do you want” she said again and slowed her pistoning hand. “Don’t be shy, you can tell old Mrs. Juric” her hand grew ever slower.

“Don’t stop, please, don’t stop” I gasped just before her hand stood still. She slightly accelerated again, her eyebrow rising, her face a picture of innocence:

“Oh Mr. Carl, what is it that you want?” she stroked the whole length of my tail, then slowed down again “You can tell Mrs. Juric, you know” further slowing down, slowing down, and then she stopped. Took her hand off my vibrating, precum leaking cock. Which stood upright, waiting for her caress. She instead laid both her hands on my thighs.

“WHAT do you want, Mr. Carl????” she said sharply, looking at my expectantly. And in the breathless silence, I heard myself say:

“Play.” Silence. “I want to play”. She grinned up at me, a wild feline grin.

“My oh my, as you have found your eloquence back, Ill be nice to you…” She pressed herself up and turned around, putting her hands on my thighs. And just when I opened my mouth to protest, she backed up, the moist folds under her skirt making contact with my tip… and she sat down on my lap with a little scream. Sat on my lap, her hands on my thighs and my cock deeply buried in her body. Her skirt hiding everything from view, but I could feel her hotness around my stiff member, her bloodstream pulsating around my engorged cock. I was stunned, did not dare to move. And then I felt her muscles contracting and she lifted herself up from my lap… up up up … And, bam, she slammed down again, a little stifled scream. Up, up, up, bam, ahhh!! Up, up, up, bam ahhh! She was pumping up and down on me, riding me like an amazon would ride her horse and all of a sudden, I snapped back into my body. I could smell her body, the faint intoxicating smell of a woman in heat, sweat and something else, indescribable, but amplified by her leather dress.

Admiringly, I laid my hands on her hips pushed her down on my cock, she jumped up again, I guided her, gripped her leather-clad hips and buttocks and impaled her on my member faster, harder, faster, both of us panting, I felt how my the juices rose in my hose, my testicals twitching, I was close , so close, she screamed, shuddered, and her muscles gripped me under her skirt, and then she sat still… panting and breathing. I was stunned, waited for her to start again and… Yes, she rose again… Yes, yes, bring me over the edge as well. Please, please do it. … But she rose and stepped forward … and with a sloppy sound, my twitching rod came free of her and she stepped away from me. I stared at her in disbelief, at my smeared hard cock in the light, the long threads of sticky liquid dripping down over my crotch and onto the floor, at her leather covered ass and she turned her head, looked slightly flustered:

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Le Seduction

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Asian

I had noticed her as soon as I returned. She came into my bedroom one morning, her little cap perched upon her fiery curls and her drab black dress unable to hide her lush curves. The appearance of the very woman I was imagining as I stroked my hard male member was all it took to cause me to groan in ecstasy as I came, shooting long streams of hot white cum onto the sheets. Those lush kissable lips formed a perfect O which only sent my mind to imagining other uses for it and she gasped “Pardonnez moi Monsouir, je n’ai pas su que quelqu’un était ici,” and quickly exited, blushing prettily. I laughed as she made her escape and let my mind wander to the seam of the sheer black hose she wore, following that dark line upward, imagining my hands sliding up over her knees, up her thighs, finding the lacy tops of her hose and then my fingertips skimming the soft skin of her inner thighs and finding the hot wet moistness of her.

He came into the house like a breath of fresh air. The work here was simple and I was more than qualified but each day ran into the next with little to separate one boring day from another. Occasionally I would go to town with my aunt, who had been Lady Scott’s cook for 30 years now and who had helped me obtain this position. The local men would ogle me but none approached me to talk or visit. My mother had grown up in this very village but she had had the audacity to run off with a Frenchman, my dear papa, and I could hear the whispers behind my back as I moved through the town. My tante would scold me, telling me my curls were too bright, my figure too ripe, that I was “too French”, but what could I do about this? The one morning I waited as I always did to clean his room last. When I entered the room I moved to the windows and opened the drapes to let in the sunshine, turning about I saw him, and froze, entranced. He lay on the bed, naked, one strong hand wrapped around his hard cock, stroking himself. As I watched suddenly he moaned finding release and I do not remember if I said anything but I beat a hasty retreat, his laughter ringing in my ears. “Oh mon Dieu”, I blushed, my hands coming up to cover my heated cheeks.

I found her on the steps the next afternoon, her arms filled with laundry, and so like the gentleman I am, I took advantage of the situation. I stepped in front of her and reached up running my hands along her arms. Tell me your name, I begged, although I had asked the butler Grimms earlier and had the information. “My name is Simone” she replied, glancing up at me her glance both provocative and innocent. “What a minx” I thought. She clutched the laundry closer as if to protect herself, causing her full breasts to push up. I couldn’t resist, I reached up and unbuttoned a button. She gasped at my touch and pulled away, stepping to the side and continuing down the stairs. At the bottom she turned, and gave me a bright smile which caused me to laugh out loud. “Ohhh Simone!”

Such a scoundrel he is! But I want him more than any man I have ever met. Just seeing him makes my heart quicken and my breath shorter. When I look at him my hands ache to reach out and slide over his wide shoulders and down his strong arms. I would like to catch him as he did me the other day with my arms full of laundry. One part of me wanted to drop the folded towels right there on the stairs and embrace him but he seems to relish the chase. It is true that one of the best aphrodisiacs is anticipation. I have imagined touching him, my fingertips skimming along his skin, tasting him, allowing my tongue to slide down the strong column of his throat, smelling the scent of his skin, the taste of his lips and more! When he reached out and unbuttoned my uniform I wanted to moan, begging him to continue. Later I went back to the small apartment I share with Tante and threw myself across the small cot I have. I reached down unbuttoning my serviceable black dress, slowly exposing my soft skin beneath it. I imagined his reaction, imagined the hard cock I had seen that day, long and thick. My eyes closed as I reached down with my hand stroking myself sliding my fingers in and out of myself, wishing he would suddenly appear so that I might beg him, “Fourrez moi”!

I cannot believe what I just did, but canlı bahis the evidence is right here on my bed surrounding me. It was easy getting the master key and slipping into the small suite of rooms that Simone and her aunt share down near the kitchen. The moon was shining, a silvery beam that flowed through the window bathing the room in shimmering light. Rose, Simone’s aunt, snored on, unaware of the intruder in her bedroom. I stayed to the shadows, making my way to the chest of drawers located in the corner. Quietly I opened the drawer, laughing as I pulled out Rose’s serviceable cotton panties, wrong drawer I smiled to myself. As I was opening the next drawer I froze, as Rose’s snores ceased for a moment. I held my breath, waiting, waiting for that audible snore, and relaxed as her rhythmic roar resounded again. It was then I noticed the small chest at the end of the bed, my sweet Simone was curled up in. I lifted the lid slowly, anticipating a creak of rusty hinges but was in luck, for the lid lifted effortlessly and quietly. There neatly folded on top were all of Simone”s under clothing. Although I had started this as a silly prank the idea of Simone naked under neath her clothes suddenly had an unbelievable attraction for me. I snatched them all up, panties, bras, bustiers, thongs and started to make my way out of the small suite and back upstairs to my room. I looked back and noticed that the moonlight was shining in the window, lighting Simone’s upper body. As I watched she turned. I could not resist-I reached out tugging lightly on the sheet that slipped down exposing a perfect globe topped by a large peach colored erect nipple that seemed to call out for my lips and warm mouth. Who knows what I would have done if Rose had not taken that inopportune time to rouse, muttering in her sleep. I slipped quietly out of the room. It had been silly, a stupid school boy trick, but I didn’t care as I masturbated by rubbing a pair of Simone’s silky panties up and down the hard length of my shaft.

I woke up stretching, smiling as I recalled my dream of the night before. I had kissed him, touched him and just the thought of it was enough to make even getting up early to help my aunt in the kitchen, not seem so bad. Lady Scott was an early riser and always wanted breakfast served promptly at 7 A.M. I hopped out of bed naked for I slept in the nude. At first I had tried to wear the serviceable night gown that my appalled Aunt Rose had implored me to wear. But it bunched about my waist and made sleeping so uncomfortable that by morning I was always without the dreaded gown anyway, so my Aunt finally sighed and accepted the inevitable. I moved to the small chest that had belonged to my father to pull out some clothing for the day. When I opened the lid I stared at the empty spot in my chest. I had only the night before placed some fresh clean laundry in there! So where had it gone. I glanced to the clock, “Oh my I had to hurry, My aunt would be needing me soon. I debated what to do?

Ok, So I am really terrible. but oh my what a treat I encountered this morning. Simone’s black dress hugged her sexy curves. As I stared I could see the hard outline of her nipples through the silky fabric. It was obvious, at least to me, that she did not have on a bra. Anything you could want for breakfast was laid out before me, but I ate little, feasting on the sight of Simone’s full breasts, swaying softly with her every movement, her hard nipples pressing against the fabric. As I stared I noticed her blushing, then she arrogantly tossed her red curls and stared right at me, licking her lips.

I believe I know who is the thief that stole my silky underthings. As I was serving breakfast this morning I noticed his “cat that just ate the cream” smile. He seemed to relish staring at my unfettered breasts. I know he has always done that but there was something about his attitude today. Yes, I think I have found my thief. He really is enjoying this game. I think it is time I started playing myself and find out if he is as eager for the eventual outcome as I. He is fairly predictable which is in my favor. I have taken notice of his daily routine and can use that to my advantage. I have my usual duties kaçak iddaa to carry out this morning but perhaps I shall let him see a different side of me this morning!

After breakfast I went for ride, as is my habit when visiting my Aunt. After I finished I returned to the house, coming up the back stairs. As I neared the top of the stairs what treat did I see? Simone on her hands and knees, working at cleaning something on the floor. The black dress had slid up exposing the lacy tops of her black stockings. The sheer hose was a sensual contrast to the white silkiness of her thighs. The black fabric tightened about her shapely ass and as I watched she moved her knees apart a bit more sending my imagination into overdrive. I wanted to slide my hand up those silky thighs and tease her, slipping one finger into her hot pussy. I closed my eyes and imagined sliding one, two, three fingers into her, slipping in and out as I felt the heat and moistness build. I knew she was not wearing any panties, for hadn’t I conveniently taken them. I stepped closer determined to caress her. Just as I reached her she must have noticed me and sat back on her haunches.

Reaching out she brushed an errant curl away from her face, looking up at me, “Oh Monsouir, I did not hear you. How was your ride?” She smiled up at me and impishly added, “You are certainly a man that enjoys a good ride, yes?” I smiled back, staring at the gaping front of her dress that showed her ample cleavage. As I stood there, entranced she started to rise from her kneeling position. I quickly moved to help her rise and she leaned against my arm with the fullness of those dreamt of breasts. She gazed up at me earnestly. whispering, “Oh Monsouir, I too enjoy a good ride, but I have not been able to, how do you say, go riding, for a very long time”. she turned leaving me staring after her as she picked up the small pail and made her way back down the hall.

Yesterday I had additional duties for Lady Scott is having a party this weekend and everyone is busy getting ready for it. I was late getting to his room to tidy up and I rushed through the job, all thoughts of seduction gone, for the moment at least. And then I went to make his bed, as I tossed the sheets back to straighten them I noticed a wet spot glistening in the middle of the bed. I inhaled sharply, the evidence of his passion laying there before me. Oh, mon ami, I whispered, I want that so badly. I glanced about me, hesitantly and then reached out, one leg kneeling on the bed, my hand reaching downward and slipping through his sweet cum. I inhaled, my eyes closing, running my fingertip over my lip and slipping it into my warm wet mouth, savoring his salty taste.

I stood at the door separating my bathroom and my bedroom. Simone was where I had imagined her a hundred times, on my bed. This morning as usual I had woke up hard and hot, wanting nothing but to have her there so I could bury myself between her sweet thighs. I had cum easily imagining her and now I stood with only a towel about my hips watching as she tasted my essence, her eyes closed in apparent ecstasy. I had foregone my usual morning ride so that I might be handy in case my aunt needed any help with her guests. I dropped the towel that had been wrapped about my hips, and moved quietly across the room, my erection hard and jutting out before me. I came up behind the little minx and wrapped my arms about her, thrusting my hardness against that sweet ass my hands long to caress.

I was startled when his strong arms wrapped about me for I truly thought that he was out for his morning ride. My surprise quickly turned to a heated response as I felt his hardness against me. Nothing separated us but the light silky fabric of my uniform. I leaned back murmuring, Oh oui, Monsouir, oui, touch me, yessss I need you so much. His heated lips slid along the column of my throat and I tilted my head to give him more access. I needed his touch, his lips, his mouth on me tasting me, moving over me. His hands wrapped about me cupping my breasts, his thumbs teasing my hardening nipples into aching points of sensitivity. He spun me around and pulled me close, kissing me deeply, his mouth opening, our tongues entwining kaçak bahis as I groaned softly deep in my throat.

I seated myself on the edge of my bed, pulling her between my legs. She glanced down and smiled appreciatively at my erect cock. You like? I whispered? and laughed as she licked her lips and nodded affirmatively. I reached out my hands sliding up her thighs, dragging the hem of her silky black skirt up. As I thought, she was naked beneath her dress and my hands roamed over her tight ass, cupping her and tugging her closer. Her hands grasped my shoulders, and I lifted her onto my lap, her knees bent on either side of my legs. Simone I whispered, I am going to put this hard cock in that tight little pussy of yours OK? I leaned closer my lips returning to hers, kissing her deeply. I felt her tremble as our tongues entwined, my hands continuing to caress her, sliding upward to slip the buttons of her uniform undone. I felt her hips thrusting, wanting, begging for my hardness. “Simone” I chuckled, “What is it you need? Tell me.”

He teased me, making me straddle him, the glistening wet tip of his cock pressing at the entrance of my hot, moist, slit. My hips thrust forward as if begging to be filled. His hands slid along my heated skin, cupping my full breasts, pushing them together, his thumbs returning to tease the aching tips of my hardened nipples. His hands fumbled a bit as he tugged open the buttons that trailed down my chest. His head lowered sucking one long nipple into his warm wet mouth. My hands entwined in his hair holding his head close and whispering seductively to him, “ Oh Monsouir, vous m’avez si chaud, et si arrousee, je te veux tellement mal.” Pulling me onto him and then filling me with a long sure stroke that caused me to cry out, responding. I tightened about him, amazed at the intensity of the orgasm I could feel building inside of me. His hands slid back down to my hips, guiding me, helping me to set the pace. I looked up at him, my green eyes wide, smiling and tightened my pelvic muscles around him. He smiled back and began to stroke, long sure strokes that caressed the sensitive walls of my pussy tight around him. Pulling back leaving just the tip inside of me I quickened my strokes, faster, quicker. I heard his gasp of appreciation, saw his eyes close, his face grimace as I used my body, my movements to draw my own pleasure from him. When my aroused clit could take no more I thrust deeply convulsing hard around him, biting my lip so I would not cry out.

I could see her skin flush, her eyes grow wide as the waves of intense pleasure moved over her. She tensed, he body trembling and as my fingertips slid over her heated skin I sensed the depth of her orgasm. I could feel my own climax building, reaching it’s pinnacle and I paused for a moment as she convulsed around me. I swallowed hard, my breathing labored and then I felt the suppressed power in my loins ready to erupt. She pushed against my muscled chest, her face strained in total pleasure, thrusting her hips so that I was buried deep in her hot pulsing pussy. Simone whimpered, her head back, eyes closed, thrusting with her hips one last time, gasping, her breath catching as we both arrived at the peak of our pleasure. She trembled falling against me, her soft breasts pressing against the crisp hairs of my chest. I leaned down placing a tender kiss on her bared shoulder, just holding her, our hearts slowing, our breathing returning to normal.

My body felt relaxed, boneless, and I turned my face into his neck inhaling the masculine scent of his skin. I sighed feeling his hands slip down my back, over my ass. Beneath me I could feel the wetness of our combined essence slipping out of me to dampen our thighs, his soft velvety balls. I glanced at the clock and realized I would be expected downstairs soon. Hurriedly I pushed away, standing up smoothing the skirt of my uniform down. I could feel a warm trickle on the inside of my thighs and I smiled turning to him, “By the way, would there be a chance I might borrow a pair of panties from you, eh monsouir?” He laughed, opening up the night stand drawer and lifting a book aside to hand me a pair of my silky panties. I slipped them on quickly and made my way to the door. He followed me, kissing me softly, “Later”, he asked? “Well monsouir,” I replied, “If you continue to pay me with silky underthings I will have to. You see I find myself in dire need of such things, oui?” And with that I slipped out the door as he laughed in response.

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Lester’s City – Just a Business Meeting

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Big Tits

Lester was alone tonight, so he had a few more freedoms than he would in company. He cooked a simple meal, a childhood pleasure — scrambled eggs with cheese on toasted bagels. He let the vinyl version of the Stone’s Let It Bleed reverberate loud around his apartment. He was going about in sweats and a frayed t shirt.

He hadn’t drunk anything for 3 months; he’d felt the need to….shall we say, get a grip of himself. Now he allowed himself a bottle of smooth red.

He wandered around the space, padding across the carpet in bare feet. Paintings by friends were straightened at last, newspapers put into the recycling.

Last, he did something he would never let anyone else see. He went up to the mantelpiece, and picked up an award trophy. Holding it with both hands, he stared into it. Then he dusted it clean on his sleeve. He repeated this exercise with the other 2 statuettes, and placed them back in position.

His phone pinged with a text alert. He ignored it, and went to his wine glass. He took it to the kitchen and poured in the last of the bottle. After a while he walked to the phone, and flicked to Messages. ‘Lawyer’ was the last entry. Lester’s thumb jabbed the screen, and up came ‘Your divorce is legally final at 10 am tomorrow. You’re free bud.’

He went up to the windows overlooking the river, and stood watching out for a long time. Lights, and life, slowly flowed in front of him. He finished the wine, and sighed. He murmured to the waterfront below, ‘Well world, that’s the last time I’m gonna get fucked over.’ He took himself up to bed — he had a big job in the city tomorrow morning.

He walked up from the station into the bustle. At a street wagon he bought a coffee, and rang the buzzer of the tall building. Going up in the elevator he brushed some curls back from his face, and the door slid back to reveal the sleek brick and wood workspace. The model-type behind the front desk recognised Lester, and cheerily waved him down towards the studios.

He greeted old friends and newer associates on today’s project. He was 4 minutes early. He settled into a deep swivel chair in front of the mixing desk next to the sound engineer, and waited.

Time edged on, they made small talk. People came in and checked that everyone had drinks. 10 minutes went by. Then 20. With the sighs of agitation from the 6 people in the room growing, 40 minutes came round. Somebody was paying for all this. Still, the all-important client hadn’t arrived. Lester had already asked the engineer to call the studio they’d be linking up with to explain the situation.

Lester’s phone pinged. With nothing better to do, he checked it. The Lawyer again…’Congratulations.’

So….that was that. 11 years of his life, signed off on the dotted line. After a moment, he turned it off.

As he was returning the phone to his jacket, the studio door burst open. Lester wasn’t looking behind him, but he certainly heard the fired-up angry female voice bawling out ‘Where’s the damn copywriter?!’

The studio hushed. Lester slowly revolved his chair towards the noise. ‘Well, I’m the……damn copywriter. Good morning….who are you may I ask?’

She strode up to Lester’s chair. ‘Exactly you asshole….why haven’t you answered any of my calls?’

Taken aback, he hesitated before replying, ‘I haven’t had any calls.’

‘Oh really’ she trilled sarcastically. She flipped out her phone, looking at it with a confident leer. ‘What’s your number?’

‘716, 812, 7790.’

She stared at her screen. Her face lost some of it’s rigor. She turned from him, and punched keys on the phone. A few seconds later, her sharp tones filled the studio again.

‘Hey Louise, you fucked up on the copywriter’s number. It’s 7790, not 7791. I’ve been calling for days, no wonder he’s sat here not knowing what the hell is going on. Clear out your stuff sister, you screwed up bad. Goodbye.’

She turned to stare at him again. He could hear her breathing through her nose. He took stock of her – power suit, model hair, dominatrix shoes.

He had to break the icy air. ‘I’m sorry, but are you involved with the Mercedes commercial we’re recording?’

‘Involved?’ she boomed. ‘This is why I was calling you. I’m the new head of marketing in this territory, and we have to change the fricking script!’

Lester let a couple of beats go. ‘What happened to Steffan?’

She snorted. ‘By now you can probably read it in the financial pages. A few, er, personal problems came to light 2 days ago, and he had to vanish. I’m April Jones, I’m in charge now. So, this goddam script?’

Lester looked up at her calmly, even though she was pretty much in his face by now. He felt sad about Steffan; that was one clever guy, plus a joy to work with. And had this nightmare in front of him just fired someone over the phone?

‘Well April, the ‘frickin script’ has been approved right up to board level, we’ve all been working towards this for months. In fact, we’re late for our link to London. The actor is waiting for us to dial in.’

‘Oh bedava bahis yeah, the Brit. That’s another thing I’m not down with. Listen, the people we’re trying to talk to…’

Calmly Lester cut her off. ‘This is the 3rd in a series of commercials that’s designed to run until late next year. We’re half way through telling a story, and Michael Lamb is the voice of the campaign. We can’t stop this now.’

She shooed someone out of a chair, rolled it to him, and sat. She turned back to the person she’d just evicted and announced, ‘You. Get me an iced water. Just water and ice, no fricking fruit, ok?’

Spinning back to face Lester, at last she talked a little quieter. ‘Story? See that’s my problem. We’re selling cars guy, duh? People don’t need fairy tales….tell em to get down to the showroom and sign. We’re selling cars. And remember, it’s me that’s signing the cheques now.’ She crooked her head and flashed her best sarcastic smile.

Staring into her eyes, Lester ran through the possibilities of who she had to be fucking at HQ to have got this job. And he couldn’t help but dwell on that ‘duh?’

His voice lowered. ‘April, do you realise that guy you just ordered to get you a drink is my Deputy Head of Design. Oxford graduate, talented kid.’

‘Today you all work for me; he better get used to it.’

Dark thoughts clouded across Lester’s mind. He tried one last thing. ‘You do know a lot of these cars retail for like, a hundred thousand dollars yeah?’

She let out a bored sigh. ‘5,000…a 100,000? It’s the same deal. Trust me, in business you just take no prisoners honey.’ He calculated that she was at least 10, maybe 12 years younger than him.

Lester looked down at the floor, gathering his mind. Glancing up, he half whispered ‘April, I need to talk to you outside.’ He raised himself to full height, and paced to the door. He didn’t wait for her, just walked out into the corridor.

A while later, she appeared. Her heels tic-tacked across the oak floor. ‘Lester, right? I do hope we’re not gonna get off on the wrong foot here?’ She crossed her arms and stood against the wall opposite, her eyes challenging him.

He looked down at her, studying the contours of her face. She was pretty, but probably kept a small army of helpers busy making sure she looked flawless.

‘How about we cut a deal April?’ He stepped forward, and placed both hands against the wall behind her. Leaning in closer, he stared down over her. A flicker of surprise shot across her face.

‘Let me make this commercial my way, just as it was agreed — and tonight we’ll have a meeting about how we should go forward. Blank page. You and me, you call the shots.’

Her eyes narrowed a touch. ‘What about the team?’

‘Nope. Just you and me. You obviously have strong feelings, and I’ve been writing these ads for a long, long while. I’m sure we can come to an understanding. Like you say, it’s business.’

April fought to not betray the discomfort she felt. He’d physically dominated her with this caveman routine, and that was a cheap trick. She’d wanted to kick his shin. But she was wise to the dirty tricks people used to get ahead, so she lifted her chin slightly and calmly offered, ‘Ok, my office, 7pm?’

‘No. Scruffy Murphys, edge of Hell’s Kitchen. 9.’

He turned to walk back into the studio. ‘Wait! Is that a bar?’

Lester stopped, but didn’t turn to her. ‘Yeah, great bar. Look, unless you fire my agency, I’m gonna write your ads. So if you want to change them, meet me at Scruffy’s. He opened the studio door and left her.

Back in the leather swivel chair at the front, he turned to the sound guy and said ‘Ok, let’s dial up London — I have some apologising to do.’

April snuck in and sat at the back. Her mind was racing. She didn’t listen to the proceedings, just stared at the back of Lester’s chair.

A few seconds later, the lights flicked up on the connection box, and Lester knew he was talking live to an actor across the Atlantic. ‘Michael, so sorry we’re late man, you know how it is — we had to save the free world here again.’

A deep rich chortle came through the studio speakers from thousands of miles away. ‘Oh you poor fucking colonials. Now then loves – lets sell some expensive German stuff, let’s make art, and let’s get paid.’

The commercial got made, exactly as Lester had heard it in his head. After the collective high 5s, with people drifting out, he smiled at April. Frostily, she met his eyes. Heading past her to the door, he came close. ‘9, see you then.’ At that he was gone.

April was not known for her kindness towards her fellow colleagues….and the rest of that day she was truly a bad-tempered witch. She surpassed herself. At long last the clock ticked by to a point where they could leave, and shake her out of their hair. By 5.33, she was alone.

The meeting was approaching. ‘That arrogant pig,’ she mused to herself; ‘That fucker’s on borrowed time.’

She knew that a destruction job came best from casino siteleri a subtle beginning. There was less screaming and shouting at the end that way. Yes, she would fire his agency tonight; but now she headed home to shower, pick out the right outfit, and make herself look devastating. It was all part of the job.

The cab dropped her at the far end of the theatre district. The air was alive; couples chattering arm in arm, the pull of neon, the noise. It was pitch dark night, but that’s when this place woke up.

Scruffy Murphys didn’t look as bad as it’s name suggested. She pushed through the door, and a wall of sound washed over her. Scruffy’s had a jukebox, and it only contained rock tunes. She sauntered past the pool tables, taking the place in….it looked roughly 50/50 men and women; at least it wasn’t some skanky guy-hole. Not spying Lester, she went up to the bar. A tattooed and quiffed guy appeared in front of her, smiling. ‘Yes ma’am, what can I get you?’

‘Just a diet Sprite please.’

From behind, a voice cut in. ‘That’s bullshit. A Heineken for the lady Leon, with an apple vodka shot please my man, times 2.’ Lester settled onto the stool next to where April stood. ‘Sorry, had to take a leak. You’re a little late April, but I expected that.’

‘What if I don’t drink beer, Lester?’

He smiled. ‘In the right place at the right time April, everyone drinks beer. I notice you didn’t question the shot.’

Leon reappeared, placing 2 chilly lager bottles in front of them, and 2 shot glasses filled to the brim with clear liquid. Lester picked up a bottle, and raised it up to her as a toast. She glared back. This wasn’t quite going as planned. His voice almost purred at her, but only as quietly as the jukebox would allow….’April — please, do you wanna sit down?’

She sat, and reached out to her Heineken. Drawing it to her lips, she stared into him one more time, then glugged down a third of the bottle. He laughed, ‘Good. Try the vodka. It’s gorgeous….that’s why personally I sip it, not neck it.’

In her mind she said, ‘Fine, if we have to play some game here for a while, so be it.’ She raised the small glass gingerly, and sniffed. An aroma of ripe orchards surprised her, and she wet her lips with a taste. It truly was delicious.

‘Thought you’d like it’ he said, watching her reaction. ‘Do you play pool, or do you want to wait for the wings?’

‘What?’ she stammered.

‘Sorry, you’ve never been here, right? Every couple of hours, the kitchen put out bowls of free food on the bar.’ He brought up a finger to his mouth. ‘Ssssh, it’s a ploy to keep people in here, drinking. I suggested it. Around now, it’s usually chicken wings. And let’s be honest,’ he said looking down at her body, ‘You won’t have eaten.’

April didn’t know whether she wanted to punch him, or introduce him to her parents — just so her mother and he could gang up on her.

She gathered herself. ‘Free food?’

‘Yeah, it’s no brainer marketing. Wings, ribs….stuff you take out the freezer and bake. It’s cheap to do, but these guys…..’ he swept his hand across the bar, ‘Love it. We get a great crowd in here.’

‘We?’

Sheepishly he murmured, ‘Yeah, well, I kinda own 49% of this place.’

At that she regarded him for a moment….but she had to revert back to the script in her mind.

‘Ok, the ads for Mercedes. I gotta be honest, I’m not happy with the direction they’re going; nothing personal, but…….’

‘April, fuck all that. Come play pool.’ He called over to Leon, ‘Another round friend.’

‘What? This bar may be half yours asshole, but this is a business meeting!’

He looked away towards the front doors. After a moment, in a deep tone he said, ‘Hmmm. Beat me at pool, and my firm will resign your account. Just like you want.’

She spluttered, ‘This is a game to you?’

Coldly he replied, ‘These days April, pretty much everything’s a game to me.’ He sighed, looking down. After a pause he turned and grinned at her. ‘C’mon, bring your drinks, and let’s play pool.’ He started walking to a table.

Without much option, she followed him. At the table, 2 guys were nearly finished. Lester watched for a moment, then reached into his back pocket. ‘I’ll play the winner for a hundred’ he announced, and placed the single bill on the edge of the table.

Both guys stopped, staring at him. They glanced at each other, then back at him. They shook their heads. Lester shrugged ‘ok’, and motioned for them to complete the game.

After the guys finished and shuffled away, Lester started to set up the balls. Not knowing whether to be impressed or bored, April said to him, ‘A hundred? You think you’re that good?’

He laughed; ‘Shit no. It was just a big number to get them off the table.’ He took a slug of beer, picked up the cue, and with a ‘plack’ sound scattered the balls over the table.

April had been schooled by her grandad, at his big house down south. It was a close game, and midway through she ended up bahis siteleri shouting Leon for a third round of drinks. They arrived with some crispy hot wings. Out of sight as Lester played, she devoured many.

He hit a shot to win the game….but the ball stubbornly echoed between the jaws of the pocket.

‘Fuck’ he hissed. He drained the vodka shot. April laughed, and walked to the table. ‘Got your resignation speech prepared, Mr Writer?’

She aimed, a little unclearly at first due to the swift intake of beer n chaser combos…but glanced a beautiful edge on the final ball. ‘Thunk’ it went, dropping in. She stood tall and thrust a triumphant fist up in his direction. ‘I win. You don’t write no more ads for Mercs Writer Man!’

Lester was still looking at the table. The white hadn’t finished rolling, and was heading towards a pocket. It bounced softly, nestled…then fell in.

For April, her reaction was pretty calm. She lay the cue down, and stared into the smooth fabric. Eventually she glanced up at him. ‘What does that mean now?’

‘Well now April, we experience the magical Free 4th.’ He walked to her, and said ‘You’d like to slap me now, huh?’

Looking up under her eyebrows she confirmed, ‘I would fucking love to Lester.’

He put his hand to her shoulder. She didn’t bat it away, her defences were beaten down somewhat.

‘Thought so. Come on, let’s go back and see Leon.’ Pushing his luck a little more, he gave her shoulder a squeeze.

Once sat down on stools again he said, ‘See, this is the real reason this bar really does well.’ He called out, ‘Leon!’

Wiping his hands on a towel, the inked barman appeared. ‘Ah, time for your 4th Lester? This round’s on the house, as usual.’

As Leon busied himself at the fridge, April worked out what the Free 4th meant. ‘So, you buy 3 drinks, the house buys you the 4th?’

Lester grinned. ‘Yep. There’s dozens of bars round here, but we have ways of keeping you till closing time.’ 2 beers and 2 shots quickly sat in front of them.

‘Your idea again?’ she asked.

He chortled. ‘Yep.’

‘Shit, you’re actually not bad,’ she almost said to herself. Almost.

Looking into, he slowly said, ‘April….you have no….fucking….idea.’

She laughed, thinking he was joshing. But it took a moment for their eyes to unlock.

‘So, you lost the pool match. Harsh. I get to keep making the Mercedes ads my way, yeah?’

She retained some of her steel. After all, this meant nothing – it was her call, not something decided on the flip of a coin. ‘How about we look at the next sales figures before we get hasty?’

Smiling, he said; ‘Do you know how many of those damn expensive cars I’ve helped to sell? Thousands. Meanwhile, you’ve sold….uh, none.’ He leant in more, ‘Sorry to put it so bluntly April, but it’s about real experience, and talent.’

She wanted to come back with something sharp, but what came out was, ‘And you’re all that, huh?’ The shots were taking their toll.

He studied her. ‘April, it’s late, you’re in a bar. Loosen the screw for once?’ She frowned at him. Then his face lightened, and once again he wrong-footed her. ‘Ok, well, do you wanna dance?’ He stood, and reached for her hand.

‘What Lester? We’re gonna do what now?!’ She was exasperated. Gently he pulled her up, and started leading her to the loud dance floor. ‘Weirdest business meeting ever Lester!’ she screamed at his back.

When they reached the wooden space in the middle of the bar, a cheesy but brilliant tune from the 90s cranked out from the speakers. April was seriously non-plussed at how tonight was going, but couldn’t help but start to shimmy to the guitar intro.

They danced. And danced a lot more; letting go to the big tunes. Spinning, hip swinging, singing choruses out loud. Between songs they breathlessly gulped their drinks. The night turned into a blur, and more trays of liquor were delivered. There was laughter, and shrieking at songs she’d not heard since her big brother played them when she was a child. She would have shuddered to remember, but she air guitared to Led Zep.

Eventually the lights went up, the music ended, and the place started to wind down. Closing time. They collapsed back onto bar stools. She looked windswept by now. April didn’t let go very often, so when she did she let go big. Smiling like she hadn’t in years, she offered, ‘One for the road huh?’

Lester, a little more used to the liquor, gently said, ‘I think you’re done April. Work’s out of the question as it is.’

Snorting a laugh she came back, ‘What are you, my Dad?’

‘No April, just an adult.’ He softened. ‘Look, I live near, and I think it’s best if we walk there and you crash out.’

Vexed by his sudden responsible attitude she barked, ‘Oh is that right…Mr Writer?’ She tried to stand and flounce off, but stumbled badly. Lester caught her, and steadied her until she balanced on her own.

‘You ok?’ Not looking at him, she nodded. ‘Let’s get you home.’ He held her around the waist, and steered them towards the doors.

The fresh morning air worked some of it’s magic, and she was a lot more sane when they reached his dark apartment door. He let himself in, and went inside. April stood, peering inside. She realised this was a habitat very different from her own.

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Lending a Helping Hand

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Masturbation

I remember one day I woke up and was sitting outside, naked as always, drinking my coffee when my friend Pete came to the back gate of the fence. I heard him call out and ask if I was here, and I told him that I was and to feel free to come on in. He opened the gate, came in, closing it behind him.

Pete was married to Anne, one of Kathy’s friends. They lived a few doors down across the alley from us. Anne was around 7 months pregnant with their second child, and I knew Pete was very busy both getting the house ready for another child and trying to cater to Anne’s whims, which were many and seemed to vary by day.

Pete walked over and sat down in the chair next to me. He was not a nudist like I am, so he didn’t automatically get undressed when he walked in like most of the people who came to visit us did. Pete had a look of anguish on his face, and I asked him if he wanted something to drink. He said that wasn’t needed, he had just come over to vent for a minute.

I asked him if everything okay with Anne, and he said that everything was going good, at least pregnancy wise. I told him I was sure he hadn’t come just to chit chat, or to watch me drink my morning coffee, in order to vent you are usually upset about something.

Pete told me he had just got home from work, and as he was walking up to the house he heard noises coming from inside the house. He said when he opened up the door, he saw Kathy eating Anne’s pussy on the couch.

Anne and Kathy were fuck buddies, and Pete knew this, so I was a bit confused. He had watched them fuck a few different times in the past, and even joined in on occasion. My cock did stir a bit though at the thought of him seeing that, and Pete noticed my cock move. He said he thought is was pretty hot too, but that wasn’t the problem. I glanced down at Pete’s crotch and saw a bit of a rise under his shorts and told him that was pretty obvious. I was still confused though of what Pete’s issue was.

Pete told me it was really kind of stupid and he feels kind of like an idiot for even bringing it up, but for the past three weeks Anne hasn’t been in the mood for cock and he has been getting pretty frustrated. Today he comes home, horny as hell, to find her getting her pussy ate by someone other than him, and as hot as it was to see, it just frustrates him even more.

I wasn’t sure what I could tell him. Kathy has been unable to get pregnant, so I have never experienced what he is going through. I felt sorry for him, and asked him if there was anything I could do. He told me not really, he knew it was just a phase she is going through, he just needed someone to talk to. I told him I am here for him, and although I have never been through what he is going through, if he needs something, anything, just let me know. He says thanks, and asks for a beer.

I got up and he followed me into the house. As I got him a beer he started checking out the Kitchen porno collection. He said he was horny and pulling out a mutual masturbation video asked if I had ever masturbated with another guy before.

Kathy told me that she and Anne had told him a lot of our sexual history when they first asked him if he would let them fuck each other once in a while. And the couple times he had joined in with them, Kathy had said she mentioned possibly including me, but he had been luke-warm about it. Now I was beginning to wonder what his hesitation was all about. Was he just scared to say he was interested? He doesn’t mind me being naked with him, and we have talked freely in the past about different sexual experiences, maybe this frustration he has with Anne was going to force him to expand his comfort level.

I bonus veren siteler grabbed two beers and told him that there were a few times I have masturbated with other people. Usually it was with Kathy when she had that time of the month and she didn’t want to fuck, but there was a few times I had with other guys. I didn’t tell him it always ended up going farther that stroking our cocks, but he probably knew that already, he just wasn’t ready to see it yet.

Pete grabbed a different movie off the shelf and asked if we could watch it on the outdoor screen. I told him sure, but as it wasn’t dark yet it would be harder to see. He said he didn’t care and led the way back outside. I followed, wondering where all this was going. Pete started the movie and sat down, taking a drink of his beer.

The movie featured two bisexual couples who were in fact neighbors. It started with the two women stripping each other and having sex while the men were at work. I had seen the movie a few times before, but it still gets me hard watching it. I glanced at Pete and saw him adjusting his cock in his shorts as it grew hard. I noticed his beer was about empty so I went into the house to grab a couple more.

As I walked back, the movie had progressed to where the first husband comes home from work. He has walked in and discovered the two women in a 69 and has started masturbating while watching. I look at Pete and watch as he unzips his shorts and pulls out his cock. I walk up him and set the new beer beside him. I hear him mumble thanks as he intensely watched the action on the screen.

I sat back down and watched Pete play with his cock. I felt myself grow hard, and my mouth started to water, wanting to have his cock in my mouth. I just wasn’t sure how far Pete was willing to go, and I didn’t want to push it to far, to fast. I grabbed my cock and started to stroke it.

The movie moved into a new scene. The second man had gotten home, and discovered his wife was not there. He finds a note saying she is at the neighbors and that he should join them when he gets home. He walks over to the neighbors and knocks on the door. Receiving no answer, he tries the door and finds it unlocked. He walks in to find the first man masturbating while watching the women lick each other. The second man dropped his pants, joined the first one, and they stood there masturbating together watching the girls.

Pete finally looked over at me and smiled as he saw me stroking my cock. He said that Anne had Kathy brought a movie over a few weeks ago over to watch and it was this one. He watched as Kathy and Anne mimicked what was being performed on the screen in their living room. It was where he got the idea of masturbating with another guy.

I looked at his cock and it was really hard. The head was a reddish purple color, and was swollen so much it looked like the skin was about to burst apart. I figured I would start playing around a bit and see how far I could get. So I walked over and told him he looks uncomfortable, and reached down and pulled on his shorts. I told they need to come off, the freedom would help him play with his cock better. Pete lifted up his butt and allowed me to slide off his shorts, and I tossed them on the chair beside him.

Pete gave me a little push and said I was blocking the view. I turned to see the guys had moved to the bed. One guy had started fucking the top girl doggy style, while the bottom girl licked both pussy and cock. The girl getting fucked had started sucking the second guys dick.

Pete had refocused on the movie and was stroking his cock hard. I was surprised he hadn’t cum bahis already, especially since he hadn’t had pussy in a few weeks. I wanted to suck him bad, but something told me it wasn’t time yet. I broke a dildo out of the toy box and suction cupped it to my chair. I squirted some lube on my hand and spread the lube on my ass, sliding a couple fingers up inside to get it ready. I knew I might be pushing the limit with Pete a bit, but I needed to do something to take my mind off his cock. I sat down in the chair, sliding the 8″ dildo deep into my ass.

I fucked my ass as I watched both Pete and the movie. I knew where the movie was going, I just had to wait until it got to the guy on guy part to see how Pete would react. I wasn’t sure if he had watched it that far before, or what his reaction would be. I knew it was coming up soon, and the dildo barely gave me the patience to wait.

Soon the movie got to the scene I had been waiting for. The bottom woman slid out from underneath, and pushed the guy getting the blowjob flat onto the bed. She climbed onto his face and he started eating her pussy. The girl getting fucked pulled away, turned toward the guy behind her and kissed him. She pulled him toward her, then moving out of the way, pushed his head toward the other guys cock. Once he was sucking, she moved behind him and strapped on a dildo. She squirted some lube on it and slid it into his ass.

I looked at Pete and he was still engrossed in the film. His right hand was stroking his cock, his left hand was playing with his ass. I grinned as I knew I had a good chance to get what I wanted. There was a sucking sound as I lifted myself off the dildo and went over to Pete.

I knelt down beside Pete’s chair and leaned over, careful not to interrupt his view of the movie. I gently pushed away his hand and replaced it with my own. I leaned down further, taking his cock into my mouth. It tasted every bit as good as it looked!

Pete squirmed under me, and he told me that I give a better blowjob that Anne does. Suddenly we heard Anne’s voice behind us saying she doesn’t take offense to that remark as I have had more practice at it.

Pete jerked up and turned around, his face beet red. Anne started laughing and said to not stop, they were enjoying the show. I asked which show, and she said both. Anne and Kathy were both standing there, naked, smiling at us.

I had never seen a pregnant woman naked before, but Anne looked radiant. Her whole body glowed as she stood there, one hand on her pussy the other on her swollen breast. I hadn’t fucked her yet, but suddenly got the gnawing urge to have her before the night was through.

I looked at Kathy and her 44DD breasts had nipples sticking out harder than I had seen them in a long time. I could swear I could almost see drool on the corner of her mouth. She smiled and said it was about time this happened, they have been setting it trying to make it happen for a while. She grabbed Anne by the hand and they walked toward us.

I couldn’t decide what I wanted more, Pete’s cock in my mouth or my dick in Anne’s pussy. Since Pete was there I went back to sucking it. Anne sat down and watched as I ran my tongue around the rim of the head of his cock. Kathy pushed her legs apart and started licking Anne’s pussy. Anne moaned as my tongue slid up and down Pete’s cock, and she told me to take it all. I slid my head down, taking all his cock until my nose was buried in his balls and I could barely breath. I felt Pete pulse, and suddenly his cum was filling my mouth. I heard Anne gasp as she saw some cum escape the corner of my mouth.

Sucking Pete dry, I raised my deneme bonusu head and smiled at Anne. I got up and walked over to her and Kathy, and kissed Anne full on the lips. I felt her tongue slide around, trying to capture some of her husbands cum. I pushed Anne back while using my leg to push Kathy out of the way and as quickly as I could slid my cock into Anne’s hot wet pussy.

I could feel the head of my cock scraping Anne’s cervix. Her pussy wasn’t as deep as Kathy’s was, and I knew I had to be careful to not hurt her. I felt Anne’s fingernails digging into my back as her legs wrapped around my waist. I pushed a little deeper each stroke, trying to get as far into her as I could. I pulled up one of her swollen breasts and started to suck on her nipple as we ground together in a steady rhythm.

I heard a moan beside us, and I saw Kathy must have sucked Pete hard again, as she had mounted his cock and was riding him hard. Her boobs were flopping as she slid up and down on his cock. Pete’s hands were trying to control them, trying to play with them, but they were bigger than he was used to and having a hard time. Not that he seemed to matter.

I saw Anne look over and smile as she watched them fuck, then looked back at me. She grabbed my head and pulled me into a kiss. Her legs wrapped tighter around me and I could feel her pussy getting hotter on my cock. Soon her body started to convulse as she started cumming, biting my lips with her teeth. Normally I don’t like that very much but for some reason it turned me on bad, and suddenly I felt the cum rising from my balls up the shaft of my cock. She felt my cock swell inside her and told me to cum as deep as I could inside her. Three strokes later I exploded like a volcano inside her. Her legs again squeezed my waist as she matched my cumming with her second of the night.

Anne and I kissed again, and then collapsed while watching Kathy fuck Pete. Anne told me next time she wanted to see me fuck Pete in the ass, and I told her that it would be my pleasure. I told her I wanted to fuck him earlier, but then I saw her naked and could get her out of my mind.

She said they had been watching since I was fucking myself with the dildo, but didn’t want to ruin what they hoped would come. I laughed and said I hoped she wasn’t disappointed, and that when I was fucking myself I was wishing it was Pete’s cock deep in my ass. I told her I look forward to not only fucking him, but getting fucked by him.

Suddenly Kathy got off Pete’s cock and started sucking him. Kathy loves the taste of cum, so I knew Pete was close again. Sure enough we watched as he squirted cum once more, and Kathy took it all. When his body stopped, she continued to lick to ensure she hadn’t missed one drop.

Pete looked at me and said he had no idea this was all going to happen.I laughed at him and told him to try and be not to disappointed. I told him I was glad he was finally able to break free of his inhibitions, and just relax and have a good time. He said it was much more fun than he expected, and looks forward to doing more exploring in the future.

The next hour was spent laughing and talking and drinking a few more beers. Thankfully no one bothered to put clothes back on, I was afraid maybe Pete would relapse a bit, but to his credit he acted as if he was free, a burden had been lifted off of him. When they got up to leave I gave Pete’s cock a yank and told him next time I have other plans to use it. I felt his cock pulse, but he was so spent it couldn’t get up again. Anne said she looks forward to watching me play with it again, and they walked naked back to their house.

I walked over and popped out the DVD while Kathy picked up the bottles. We went inside and got ready for bed, and was always our custom, fucked each other one more time. After cumming one last time, we fell asleep in each others arms, dreaming of the next time we would be with Pete and Anne.

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Kelci Ch. 04

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Anal

Kelci and I had been dating for a couple months now. We had had sex a few times, and each time was better than the last. Our relationship was master/servant, I being the master, she being the servant. We didn’t get into anything too kinky, but she knew she was mine. Even when out in public, she walked behind me, didn’t say too much, and would even let me make some decisions for her. When we had sex at my place, she would do her best to please me, even making breakfast for me in the morning once or twice. In return, I simply loved her. I would buy her gifts, pet her; dote on her in every way possible. She called me “Master” when we were alone, but I always called her by her first name. Some might have thought of her as my dog, but I knew our relationship was much more than just a simple owner/pet. Kelci was mine. I owned her. I loved her. And I knew, in a way, I was hers too. I never put a collar or leash on her, but I punished her once or twice. It took us a bit to find the perfect balance; if I was too controlling, it turned her off; but if she got too far out of my grip, it turned me off. So we had an agreement; I was the dominant one, but she had the option to leave if things ever went too far.

We had just gotten back from a date. Kelci had behaved bonus veren siteler herself immaculately, so I told her she could have a treat. In our relationship, a “treat” usually meant we could do whatever kinky thing she had in mind. This evening she had told me she had always want to strip for someone. So, when we got back, I let her (we usually just jumped right in, clothes flying off in the heat of the moment). We went to the bedroom and I sat on the edge of the bed as she began to dance.

She teased me at first, moving lithely around, her hips and torso swaying to an unheard rhythm, gradually peeling off her shirt to reveal the lacy pink and black bra I bought for her. Her hands gently caressed her body, lingering awhile on her breasts before moving down to her hips. She unzipped her shorts and, still gyrating around like a snake, slowly lowered them to the floor. Her panties were also a lacy pink and black. Then she unclasped her bra and, holding it in place with one hand, danced around a little more. She slid to the floor, spread her legs, rolled over, and, when she came up, her bra had fallen, revealing her small but perky tits. She kicked her bra aside with a deft sweeping motion that she used to continue her bahis dance. As she glided across the floor, I could feel myself getting hard. Too hard. I had to relive this somehow. So, while she danced, I began massaging my cock, trying to relieve some of the tension. She kept dancing, her hands running along her body, then hooking into her panties. She turned around, giving me a great view of her ass and pussy as she slipped her panties down her legs, stepped out of one side, then out of the other. Her pussy was already slightly wet as she continued dancing. My cock was almost rock-hard by now. She bent over me and unzipped my jeans. My cock sprang up like a shot. She smiled up at me with her bright blue eyes, pushed a strand of her wavy brown hair back, and began to suck me.

It was like heaven. How I loved feeling those soft lips caressing my shaft and that expert tongue flicking over my head. I let her do her thing for a few more minutes, but I could feel myself reaching my climax. I gently lifted her head off my cock. She looked at me, slightly puzzled.

“Did Master not enjoy this?” Kelci asked

“Oh no, Kelci, my love,” I replied “I did enjoy that. I enjoyed it very much. A little too much, I think. I do want this night deneme bonusu to last a little longer.”

“Then Master should make love to me” Kelci said, with that twinkle she got in her eye when she was about to do something dirty, “Master should take me and make me his slut…his whore.” She bit her lip coyly.

“I will, my dear,” I said as I removed my clothes, wrapped my arms around her, and pulled her toward the bed, “I will.” I laid her down on the bed and entered her.

Her pussy was so tight, so soft, so warm, and so wet. I pushed into her, back and forth, my hands roaming across her back. I leaned forward to suck her breasts. Moans escaped her as I continued to fuck her and moved my mouth from breast to breast. I playfully bit her nipple.

“OH GOD!” Kelci screamed as a wave of ecstasy rolled through her and I felt her body jerk and writhe beneath me. She knew I liked it when she screamed. “YES…YES, MASTER…RIGHT THERE…OH FUUUUCK!!!” She came as she shouted the last word, her pussy juice gushing over my cock. I came almost at the same time, half of mine washing out with hers. We lay there for some time, our bodies intertwined, not wanting to break our lover’s embrace. Finally, I rolled her over and looked deep into her eyes.

“You’re still mine, aren’t you Kelci?” I asked her.

“Of course, Master,” came the reply, “I am yours forever. I am your slut, your whore, your love. I will never leave my Master.” She batted her eyes at me. “I love you, Master.”

“I love you too, Kelci.”

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Sophie and Julie Ch. 01

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Ass

I decided to write a follow up to ‘Sophie’s Bikini’. I was going to call this ‘Confessions of a Pantie Sniffer’ but it’s much more than that. Please be aware that there is much pantie and pube sniffing in this story. Stop reading now if you are likely to be offended, but I very much hope you enjoy. As penance for my PS habit I have tried to introduce a little humour – albeit British humour. This story is set in Summer 2007.

———-

You will recall from a previous story that Sophie is our daughter – the one with a hormonal problem and fast-growing dark brown pubic hair. Having reluctantly shaved Sophie’s pubes that first nerve-wracking time, I’d agreed to shave her again. With a beautiful 18 year old curvy, braless daughter sat cuddled on your lap it’s difficult to refuse. This approach wasn’t new to Sophie. Whether it be a £10 top-up for her mobile phone or £100 to go clothes shopping, Sophie knew that by removing her bra and unfastening the top 3 buttons of her college blouse I could be talked into parting with my hard earned cash, especially if her mother was out.

In addition to this, one time I asked Sophie if she would fetch some documents from my car. As usual the keys were in my jacket pocket, but unfortunately so were a pair of Sophie’s unwashed panties. Sally, her mother, had taken to regularly replenishing these with a freshly soiled pair every couple of days. Sally by then had started joining a friend of hers at the local church ladies group. You know the kind of thing I mean; all chat, chutney and crochet. Now I just don’t know how the subject of our personal and private life had found its way into the chat, but now I was married to a more ‘morally aware’ version of Sally. I think the panties-in-pocket approach was intended to encourage me to whack off more and so lessen my appetite for that awful, sinful pastime of intercourse … and that included starters and afters.

So I now had an 18 year old daughter to explain to. Why had I a pair of her well soiled panties with me at work? Fortunately she’d had a boyfriend who’d put her panties up to his nose and confessed he’d also sniffed his mother’s and his younger sister’s. He’d tried to explain why but Sophie hadn’t been convinced. Now she knew I did it as well I guess she was less surprised. I told her that the scent contained a very powerful pheromone that males were very attracted to and so quite a few men liked to get their pantie fix. Sophie seemed to accept that and nothing more was said.

Anyhow, back to my story. Just a few weeks after that second trim Sophie had come to me again. It was a Monday evening, as soon as her mother had gone out to her weekly pep talk with the moral do-gooders. Sophie sat herself on my lap again – you guessed it – no bra, 3 buttons open etc, etc.

“Dad,” started Sophie, “Can I ask a favour, please?’

“What is it sweetheart?” I asked.

“It’s my hair again. You know. It’s poking through my panties.”

“Surely not. It’s only 4 weeks.”

Despite Sophie’s pleas I wasn’t listening. I had been late back after a hard day at work and I was shattered. And an assortment of other excuses.

In the end Little Miss Sulky pulled her panties down and threw them at me.

“I’ll come back down in half an hour. See if you’ve changed your mind.”

Then she stormed off to her room and slammed the door.

I mulled it over. Sophie was badly in need of my services. Did her pubic hair really grow that fast? Should we persuade her to let it grow and make toupees? I smiled. What was that song? ‘The mayor of somewhere? Had a lovely daughter? I Googled it. Ah yes!

‘Bayswater … had a lovely daughter … hairs on her dicky-di-do hung down to her knees.’

We could run a little business making toupees. We could start up on Ebay – ‘Toupees made to measure, finely female scented, £300 each’. Finely scented? Would that get past Ebay’s moral guardians? In what section should I advertise? I made a mental note to look it up.

I picked up the panties. White, the best colour. I could see those lovely delicate biological stains, those stains that held the utmost fragrance. No chance trying to sell them on Ebay. Miserable buggers – I’d already tried to buy some there. I closed my eyes and held the gusset to my nose. Deeply inhaled. Mmmm a scent more wonderful than the sweetest English rose, better than anything Chanel could produce. Free, without cost, a most potent aphrodisiac. I sunk further into the chair and inhaled deeply again. Eau de pee, parfum de pussy.

My mood was beginning to lighten. I closed my eyes again and took another deep noseful of pure pussy. Mmmm, my head started to reel. Could a guy be arrested for panty sniffing?

“The defendant is charged with driving whilst under the influence of intoxicating pussy vapours, mi’lud.”

“You are sentenced to six months solitary confinement with strict conditions that you are to have no contact with any female warder. Take him down.”

This exotic, exquisite perfume made my senses reel. Deeply musky, enticingly invigorating, pure unadulterated heaven. türkçe bahis I might just change my mind and shave some pubes after all. Sod letting them grow … the toupee business would have to wait (though I was still going to check it out on Ebay). In addition to this Sally was really pissing me off with her severe rationing of all things bright and sexual.

Sophie would have to persuade me a bit more though. Now what could I …?

I was mid way through my 14th deep inhalation of the addictive aromas when I could hear her coming down the stairs. Problem solved without any further effort on my part; Sophie came into the room with all buttons on her blouse undone. The blouse was still tucked into her grey college skirt but her delicious breasts were clearly on display. She crossed the room, boobs-a-bobbing, and sat, as was her custom, on my welcoming lap. As I mentioned in an earlier story, family nudity never had been a problem, however the beautiful feast of Sophie’s delicious naked breasts had not been so closely on display before.

The same enticing smell of cheap but perfectly acceptable perfume wafted into my nose. It seemed to be coming from Sophie’s cleavage.

“Have you changed your mind?” asked Sophie, almost seductively.

“Just give me a few more minutes,” I answered, my mouth suddenly becoming very dry.

Sophie pulled the blouse ends from out of her skirt and removed the blouse completely. I now had a totally unobstructed view of Sophie’s second best assets. Sophie’s voluntary uncovering meant that she was giving me unconditional access to them, to view, to touch, to cherish, to fondle.

Hesitantly at first I put my arm around her and my hand under her left breast. How can I ever describe how soft, how warm, how wonderful it felt? The exquisite texture of pure silky teenage breast was something too marvellous for words; ‘blissful’, ‘heavenly’ don’t even come close.

I moved my hand gently and slowly around that warm soft place, savouring every moment. Up a little and over a very stiff nipple. Sophie gasped, the sensation racing to the pleasure part of her brain. I gave each breast a most delicate squeeze and a little jiggle, kissed each aroused nipple and ran my tongue around and over it. Sophie shivered involuntarily each time a nipple was tongue-caressed and kissed.

I pulled back slightly and for several minutes I just sat there entranced by the sight and the feel of Sophie’s boobies. It’s just so difficult for me to explain the difference in softness and texture of her skin compared to Sally, my wife. Sophie’s breast muscles were strong, toned even more by her love of swimming, lifting each generous breast up from her chest to give them the most perfect shape. In the centre of each breast was an engorged nipple, mid-brown, encouraged to swell out and away from a slightly lighter areola. The vision was hypnotic. I was utterly and completely fixated. And those gorgeous blue eyes, the dimple in each cheek when she smiled, the soft luscious lips. Why, oh why had it taken me so long to fully appreciate Sophie’s beauty?

Finally I turned her face towards me and planted a kiss on her soft lips.

“Da-aa-mm,” she started to say, her protest being smothered by another kiss.

“Sshh baby, you can spare a kiss for dad, can’t you? I love you to bits.”

It took a few seconds but Sophie responded, this time opening her mouth slightly to accept the kiss.

“Stand up, please,” a polite request from me.

Sophie got up from my lap. I did likewise with a certain awkwardness. Perky Peter was already stood to attention.

I moved behind her, cupped both my hands under her breasts, my senses now intoxicated by that cheap but effective perfume. I moved to her, my groin now nestling against her small but perfectly adequate butt. Through the material of my lightweight summer trousers she couldn’t help but feel my cock pressing against her.

‘Da-aa-ad’ she exclaimed.

Sometimes I tend to turn a deaf ear. Still stood close to her I ran my hands over her breasts, boobs, titties, jugs, knockers, bazookas, love pillows. Every so often as I lightly tickled the sensitive sides of her breasts or thumbed her nipples she let out a short gasp.

Time was passing by. She-who-rules-everything would be back from her moral behaviour class in just over an hour.

“Ok, you’ve persuaded me. I’ll shave you.” A playful short hard slap on her rump. “Up those stairs!”

“Ouch!”

Retrieving her discarded blouse from the floor and stuffing her panties into my pocket, I quickly followed her. By the time I’d got the all-important trimmer from our bedroom and hidden the panties, Sophie had removed her skirt and was laid on her bed, totally naked.

I drew my breath in quickly. In the space of, what, eight or nine weeks we had moved from first nervous trimming of a mass of dark brown pubes to a somewhat seductive daughter laid naked on the bed.

How could God create such a perfect creature? 5 foot nothing, gorgeous rich brown hair, unblemished face, slender neck, iddaa siteleri breasts to die for, flat smooth stomach, curvy waist and hips, short but delightfully shaped legs, feet ending in pink-varnished toenails.

She was laid there, devoid of any gift-wrapping and awaiting my attention.

The hairs on her dicky-di-do were, admittedly, needing trimming although they were nowhere near as bad as that first time and perhaps I wouldn’t achieve my little business of made to measure toupees. I got down to the job in hand with renewed enthusiasm. As you might well imagine, the scent was very similar to the recently discarded panties. The top growth was shortened by the magic clippers in much the same way as before. I was careful to pay much attention to Sophie’s physical needs. After all, surely that was the reason she’d asked in the first place. Yes, I was sure that these recent sessions would lead to a regular job for me — at least until she left home or trusted a boyfriend to do the deed.

The top hair duly removed I took a new disposable Gillette, soaped up that delightful area and proceeded to remove every last trace of pubic hair. Again I took my time, allowing the persuasive blade of the Gillette to lightly tickle and gently arouse her sensitive valley and vulva.

The shaving finished I gently wiped over the skin, carefully cleaning away any residual hair. I smiled to myself remembering that old joke about the best way to get rid of unwanted pubic hair. Simply spit it out.

“Ok,” I said, “Job done. Can I go back to watching the telly now, please?”

An exaggerated pout came to her lips. “But you haven’t kissed it.”

How could I forget? It was a trademark of my work. Gently I bent over and kissed all the way down. All the soft silky way down from her belly button, inch by inch, letting my tongue run along that precious groove, that valley of Eden. Sophie let out a contented giggle and her legs parted in anticipation.

My tongue worked its way a little lower.

“That’s as far as my tongue can reach. I’m going.”

Another giggle. Her legs parted even more as if by remote control.

My kisses and my tongue continued downwards, very slowly. She giggled again. Her legs parted even more. I moved round so I could better access that very private area I had only viewed twice before. Most of the scent I had cherished so much had been washed away with shaving soap and water.

Sophie’s legs were parted widely now as if in a scene from a porn movie. It gave me VIP access and that little well of lubrication opened up. A sweetly scented well, a well that never ran dry. The nectar that flowed from it had a delicate taste — a taste totally different to Sally.

“Da-aa-ad, no, “protested Sophie. “Not there, no, you shouldn’t, no, da-aa-ad … oooh that’s nice.”

My tongue greedily poked into that refreshing well, trying to lap up more and more of her secret divine juice. In and out it darted, anxious not to waste a single precious drop.

“Da-aa-ad, no. NO DAD, your tongue’s inside me. No … I mean mmmm, yes there, just there. Mmmmm.

As my tongue continued to explore there I noticed her hands moved up to her breasts. Firstly one, then the other, then both together. I could her a noise. Not a moan, not a sigh, more from her throat – a cross between a breath and an ‘oh’. I looked up and Sophie was tweaking and pulling at her nipples then rubbing them with the palms of her hands. Not softly but roughly as if she was trying to hurt rather than stimulate. Time was pressing. Her mother would be back very soon.

I switched to lapping at her clit. Quite a large clit, poking well out from the skin around. I licked at it desperately as if were my last moments on earth.

“Ohhh dad, that’s … wow, I mean … ohhh. Please dad, please. Don’t stop.”

Taking note of Sophie’s somewhat cruel attention to her nipples I licked harder then started to suck at her clit, trying to suck it between my lips. Her breathing, the throaty noises became faster and her attention to her nipples became more frantic, more tweaking, more pulling. My attention to her clit followed suit, even to the point of trying to bite with my teeth.

“Ohhh dad that hurts, that hurts real good. It hurts like I’m gonna come.”

Finally, as Sophie’s breathing became faster still I unleashed a full force attack on her clit, licking as fast and as furious as I could. Her orgasm rapidly built within her, the tension becoming more and more and more … until her clit couldn’t take it any longer. Submission was inevitable. Her sexual nerve centre could resist no longer.

Sophie gave herself up to the powerful waves of orgasm with a load moan, then almost a scream as the muscle contactions ripped through tensed nerves for what seemed like minutes, though it was only a few seconds. Finally the released tension was followed by a sigh of utter satisfaction, and a broad smile on her face.

“That was utterly fantastic. Thanks dad.”

——

I closed the bedroom door behind me and left Sophie deneme bonusu veren siteler to relish the exhilarating afterglow of an intense orgasm. I hadn’t been downstairs above 5 minutes before Sally came back. I remember there was a documentary about something on the telly. I feigned interest in it. Sally muttered something about her meeting but I wasn’t listening. I had other things on my mind.

——-

Just 4 weeks later Sophie again asked me if I would trim her pubes, and 4 weeks after that. It wasn’t until much later that I realised it usually happened just before her monthly. My previously shy, unassuming daughter seemed to get ultra horny and came to me for help.

However, something different happened a short while later. Julie, Sophie’s friend and slightly younger than her, often used to come round to our house. Most of the time they were in Sophie’s room watching the telly, listening to music or exchanging gossip over a cup of coffee. Now that Sophie is living with her boyfriend I don’t see much of Julie which is a real pity. Last I heard of her she was doing some modelling work, but that was a couple of years ago.

I had told Sophie numerous times not to breathe a word about the little job I undertook for her occasionally. Julie and Sophie often went swimming together at weekends and sometimes on an evening. I was dumbfounded when Sophie told me that Julie had asked how she managed to shave her pubes so well and so regularly – obviously as they changed together Julie was more used to Sophie having quite a dense bush down there. During the last few weeks that had changed and Julie was anxious to know why. At first Sophie said a boyfriend had done it, but Sophie dumped boyfriends regularly. Then Sophie said she’d done it herself in the shower before finally admitting I had done it.

One evening Sophie came over to me.

“Da — ad, can I ask you something please?” she began

I knew it wasn’t concerning money. She had her blouse buttoned and her bra on underneath it.

“Sure. What is it?”

“It’s Julie. I told you that she noticed my pubes are a lot smoother now. I don’t have to mess pushing them in to my bikini when we’re changing at the pool.”

I pre-empted the next question.

“If you’re going to ask if I will shave her, the answer is NO!”

“But dad. You know her, she comes here. You even fool around a little.”

That was true. A little horseplay never hurt and Julie could be quite a tease. In fact, no, Julie was usually a tease … the number of times she’d brought a drink through and made sure I saw plenty when she bent forward to put it on the coffee table. I also accepted that, as Julie’s father had left for another woman some years ago, Julie often asked me questions or sought my views on things she wouldn’t ask her mother.

“NO, NO, NO! Do you want me arrested?”

I could see the headlines in the local rag:

‘Man arrested on suspicion of indecently assaulting college girl. The man was believed to be intoxicated with pussy vapours at the time’

The pleas continued almost daily. As the weeks went by poor Perky Peter was suffering neglect. The gospel according to the church ladies group decreed that regular sex was a sin. Full marital relations should be rationed to birthdays, anniversaries and ONCE only on holiday.

“Your husband will thank you,” one old dear had told her, “Abstinence makes the heart grow fonder.” I’d chuckled at the malapropism.

Finally Perky Peter all but faded away, suitable only for peeing and always hanging his head in shame. Even the pantie treats were denied as Sally began to wash underwear almost daily. I threw in the towel.

“OK,’ I said at last to my precious daughter. “I give in. Julie can come round Monday week, provided your mother is out at her meeting. The only condition is that Julie provides me with her worn panties, removed and donated after her day at college, fresh and still moist, every day for a week.”

I had severe withdrawal symptoms. Panties were a desperate need – I’d even been on Ebay to see if they still denied those treats.

Sophie must have spoken to Julie straight away. Within half an hour that day’s panties were in my hand. Fresh, moist and (I thought) still slightly warm. Perky Peter was in for a treat. As soon he sensed them he rose from the dead.

Wow! What a treat indeed. Even the most discerning pantie pincher would have been highly delighted. Some may say the essence was too strong, but every girl and woman has a different diet, different exercise, different arousal during the day. Within seconds I was up to bathroom, nostrils full of the most exquisite perfume. Julie had a truly stinky twat in the best way possible. My head reeled. My senses were renewed. A heady mixture of sweat, pee, lubrication and even, occasionally, a hint of brown sauce.

To be honest this potent mix was rather hard to get used to. Julie’s panties were rather worn and in need of replacement. With father missing the family budget was stretched and clothes always came second to keeping the family fed. After a day whacking off whilst under the influence I quite looked forward to freshly supplied ones that evening. As each day passed the pungent smell became more acceptable, even the odd brown sauce stain. By the time the weekend came round the smell was very exciting and unbelievably arousing.

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