Ay: Eylül 2025

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

Chapter 16: Moral Abandon

“Get the fags out mum” , Martin Coombes said from gritted smile placing his arm around his mother’s waist and burying his fingers in the sumptuous faux fur; clawing at and wanting the real thing.

His mother flashed an intense look of mischief but accompanied by raised eyebrows and said “Ssshhh I don’t want people thinking I am leading my own son astray…”

“You are though aren’t you mum?” said Martin, this time in a whisper close to his mother’s ear, and taking one of the cigarettes from his mother’s gloved hand as they stood at the bus stop in Kensington High Street.

Martin’s breath already had the odour of smoke and manhood, something that made her heart skip a beat as she remembered his former innocence.

“I’m just giving you a few tips Martin ,…though I don’t think you need much encouragement do you, you little bugger?”

Martin’ cock stiffened as his mother used the expression in a gruff and husky manner; uncouth for his well spoken mother, that had dirty thoughts underlying it.

It was followed by a husky and dirty giggle and he joined the chorus as he stooped to accept his mother lighter. They stared at each other smiling wickedly as their exhales in the cold afternoon took on the form of murderous white apparitions, meeting, colluding and seeking a victim as they danced around others at the stop.

One middle aged man turned to eye up the proceedings.

Martin giggled and pulled his mother toward his hips.

His mother beat him lightly on the chest

“MARTIN! I’m your mother what are you doing?” she whispered sternly…but not physically resisting his move. Martin smiled as he looked into his mother’s eyes, looking to see if there was any objection as his cock stiffened through the new jeans he had just bought, against her exposed 10 denier thigh, and both his hands caressed the fur over her pert backside. There wasn’t. She bit her lip in pleasure and disbelief. The gloved hand in which she held her cigarette caressed his hips, and she smiled…distantly; longingly….acutely aware of the taboo, as she watched for the bus.

“Fuck it mum let’s give the bastard a show…I bet he’s got a boner because you’re smoking, that’s why he turned. “

His mother smiled and glanced over at tokat escort the attractive well groomed stylish gentleman letting out her exhale toward him and making him twitch uncomfortably.

” Mum we are in London. Nobody knows you’re my mum and we could easy pass as boyfriend girlfriend, so shut up and give me a kiss…”

Jennifer Coombes watched the spoken words as they cascaded on a waterfall of smoke from the tender wicked moistness of her son’s lips. She looked into the pitch black pools of evil that peered at her from beneath the long fringe and felt the warmth of his body against her. Martins hand meandered back around round the soft nipped waist of his mother’s coat, on to her pert velvet fur nap of her backside and his stiffness purred.

“I love you in fur mum…” he whispered, unable to stop himself as he followed her devastating form snug in fur over her hips. Soft. So soft….and her long legs protruding…. calf muscles thrown by her heels like a bitch up on her hocks. “I mean I love …really… love it”

“I know you do. I like it too….” she spoke barely audibly and totally helplessly. Her right thigh relaxed and bent into her son’s crotch. She couldn’t help herself.

She turned, without expression, and took from the long white chalice, her eyes closing momentarily as she succumbed, then opening them to flash her son an evil wink which made his cock jerk against her.

It snaked around to nudge her gusset. She took a sharp intake of breath as she felt it and her heart pounded . The darkest thoughts that had ever crossed her mind did so now and the nicotine encouraged her, like a whispering entity that caressed her and said “go on…do it”.

Holding the exhale, she turned back to Martin. This time the poison pools were hers.

“My baby….” she whispered, poison pouring from her lips, as they approached Martin’s mouth, which opened in anticipation. She shot the smoke deep into her son and they held each other in a dizzy descent to depraved fantasy, pawing at each other tentatively through warm winter clothes. Their lips tingled a dance of moral abandon, before Jennifer broke it off gently, going no further. Their lips had barely touched, but it was a deep a kiss she had ever experienced.

“Martin yozgat escort no more. Please. It will spoil the day…I feel terrible.”

“Martin squeezed his mom’s hand and took another drag of his own cigarette, shooting the exhale at the fur covered bosom that rose to greet it.

“No worries mum” he whispered “we are just playing that’s all.” The whisper changed to a cough and he spoke up. “So where we going then mum?”

The bus approached and Jennifer grabbed her son’s hand like he was still her baby and ushered him onto the waiting platform, turning for one last drag before discarding her cigarette with a sexy flick of her fingers. Martin did the same and they boarded.

“Knightsbridge” her smoky exhale said, both to the conductor and Martin “Sloane Street”.

Frank Bentley took out a pack of cigarettes form his pocket and watched the bus disappear. It wasn’t going his way, thank the Lord. His hands were trembling at what he had witnessed. Not that he heard any of the conversation, but the two moles in exactly the same place on their faces was something a former police sketch artist didn’t miss. Brother and sister or mother and son he didn’t know, but as his fingers trembled in his fingerless gloves to light his own Benson, he decided he didn’t object. Despite trying to kick the habit he had carried his cigarettes for a week just in case. Just in case of what he didn’t know. But he did now. “Welcome back lover” mistress nicotine said as she ravaged him at the fog bound loneliness of the bus stop.

An hour later Jennifer Coombes was trying on her eighth fur at the discreetly situated Furriers off Bayswater Rd.

Crystal fox. It was the one for his mother Martin decided; well his favourite anyway….though she also had her eye on the soft phantom beaver that also had been the perfect ankle length 52″ she sought. The one Martin held against him in his arms with his erection aroused by its presence. It was the softest thing he had ever felt: well since last night and Laura’s black version. His mother looked good in Autumnal tones though; no less sexy but perhaps a touch more classy. Then he glanced over at the Blackglama she had tried too.

“Oh mum they all look so good…I can’t decide. What do you prefer?”

“Can zonguldak escort I try the full pelt ¾ blue fox first coat again?” she asked the attentive Spanish girl who smiled at the one she preferred if she had the choice.

She took the coat and placed it against her face with eyes closed in appreciation, before putting it on Jennifer’s shoulders.

She looked at Martin:

“This one is most for sexy yes?” she smiled teasingly.

Martin eyed his mother in the soft smoky blue tons of the fox, as she walked around the salon. It had an amazing swing carried by the weight of full pelts and the design of Dior.

“You can belt too looks very nice.” She offered.

Jennifer Coombes eyed herself in the mirror. It made her look and feel sexy. She had to have it. The others…yes those too.

“I will take all four” she said and slipped the American Express card from her purse and passed it to the surprised assistant. Normally, she would be lucky to sell one or two in a day and saw much of her job as PR as men bought in their girlfriends just to try on and dream.

The bill was £19 400.

This was nothing to Jennifer who had £400 000 inheritance that her husband didn’t even know about, from a late Aunt she had nursed the year before. He suspected nothing: the Aunt lived in a rented flat and nobody had expected she had not a bean to her name.

She looked over and smiled as Martin stood breath held but excited.

“Oh mummmm…they are lovely…I wish…”

“What Martin?” she said smiling as he stroked the phantom beaver coat with hug thick sable collar and cuffs still. She had her suspicions.

“Oh nothing…” he sighed, holding the coat up to himself , narrowing his eyes as he held it in font in him and imagining himself in it. He still had his eyeliner on and his mother’s jaw dropped. He looked stunning. Like a supermodel. A female one. Prettier…much…than Natasha P.

The assistant’s jaw dropped too.

“It’s amazing…you look like…. like beautiful girl…try it on….yes why not?”

Martin looked at his mother shaking, and her head nodded in encouragement.

He tried it on and looked at himself in the mirror.

His mother caressed him in the fur and kissed him on the cheek. “Martin….you are beautiful…as a boy yes…but you could be a girl…it’s amazing!”

Martin smiled, went red and said nothing

He removed the coat and passed it to the assistant.

“I’ll take it” he smiled, winking at his mother who giggled with intrepid abandon wondering where they were going…..

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

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

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

One Summer’s day I watched through my bay window as the removal men unloaded their van and took all the boxes, white goods and other possessions up the concrete steps that led to the door of the first floor flat next door. The final item that they carried up the steps was a large clothes rail that was bustling with girly garments, many dresses and several coats of such styles that they suggested that they belonged to a young woman.

The following morning I saw the presumed owner of those clothes making her way down the concrete steps to the pavement dressed in a black business suit. A petite slim woman with fabulous long limbs dressed in a tight pencil skirt that finished just below her knees. Her elegant slender calves caught the sunlight in opaque black nylon hosiery as I watched intently every single step that she took in her descent to the pavement.

She wore a pair of fuschia coloured trainers with white cotton ankle socks which suggested to me that she intended to walk to her work.

Her long voluminous chestnut hair, carefully dishevelled, had such subtle rouge highlights that it was not possible to identify whether the colouring was natural or had been introduced by expert hairdressing. The wonderful mane reached down to her small pert arse and as she turned to walk down the hill her profile revealed a ‘drop dead’ gorgeous athletic body. Quite simply sex on legs.

Her beautiful face of flawless northern complexion contrasted with her generous bright red painted lips that threatened to pout and reciprocate any attention that might be given to them.

She appeared to be about twenty years of age. If ever I had been in her league I knew that at my time of life I was now at least twenty thousand leagues beneath it. That being so any intimacy that I craved with her would have to be displaced. I would have to shift the target of my carnal desire to her intimate undergarments that hugged her delectable body. They would be an obvious target, entirely appropriate to this compulsive lingerie fetishist. I wanted to fuck her knickers and her hosiery and lose my load within them as a substitute for her unobtainable delights.

She carried the straps of an expensive voluminous black leather bag over her shoulder and my first thought was to wonder if it might contain a spare pair of knickers or pantyhose hidden inside. She stopped at the bottom of the steps of my house and drew apart the flaps of her bag to peer inside. She pulled out a pair of black leather open toe court shoes with a moderately high chunky heel.

Had I been directing this scene of a movie, then when she withdrew the shoes there would have been a saucy dainty ‘g’ string with elaborate bows to the front and back panels, hanging limply from the heel of one of the shoes. At least it occurred in my imagination.

She lifted her mobile phone out of her bag and she dropped the shoes back into it and continued down the hill.

In another scene of a movie I imagined, I would be her co-worker. I would have the opportunity to rummage through her bag when she left it in the office and went out for lunch. Then I would remove the saucy ‘g’ string from her bag, enjoy it’s texture and photograph it. I would set the camera to macro mode and photograph the bows and the label in those tiny panties so that I might identify the manufacturer or the shopping chain which offered them for purchase. I might have the opportunity to purchase an identical item myself albeit in a larger size. Whilst wearing or otherwise abusing them, their similarity to those of my sexy neighbour would strengthen my conviction that they actually belonged to her.

What compelling information is disclosed on those silky little labels. I hope they will identify the garment as a small or an extra small size. The smaller the better is not a golden rule of thumb but my fascination grows as the size of a pair of delicate panties decreases.

Some women cut the labels out of their knickers. It doesn’t surprise me, particularly at the top end of the market when a pair of knickers can cost fifty quid and more. The label spoils the form. It’s also true that people like to be represented by expensive labels, don’t designers and manufacturers know it.

Some grand designer has gone to the trouble to balance, form, colour, mesh, lace, embroidery, buttons and bows and in recent years apertures in the front or back panels such that the finished article gives resonance to the mushy, succulent content within. A label sticking half way up one’s back hardly does justice to their effort.

I’m enchanted by the smaller woman. What value for money having all that beauty packed into a petite body. Tiny ears, little fingers, slim arms and little toes just seem so ultimately feminine to me and the fact that they will be in perfect proportion is one wonder of nature. Having said that I’m certainly not adverse to a statuesque woman standing as tall as myself.

My sexually submissive demeanour clamours to be the victim of some act of role playing dominance on the part of a sexual partner and the intensity kütahya escort of the submission is always amplified when it is carried out by a creature that could never physically overpower me. That, they may well easily manage as a consequence of their attractive assets or the naughty qualities of their imagination and indeed the irresistible fragrances of various parts of their divine bodies that message a man’s psyche and leave him broken and vulnerable.

Then it is hardly surprising that I have an intense fetish for women’s feet. Delicate perfectly sculptured appendages that have the added attraction of being blessed with an intensity of pheromonal fragrance, almost a second, scented, humid cunt.

In that finite moment when I saw her for the first time, I was hooked.

The following Saturday I saw her from my kitchen window working in her garden. I was longing to know more about her, to have some facts to work with to feed my imagination for when I would be gripping my shaft and pulling myself off with her in mind. Her name would be better than nothing. I longed to whimper that name with abandon as she fucked with my mind and body.

My neighbour was wearing cut-off denim shorts and a black swimwear bikini top, her shoulders were extraordinary, running precisely perpendicular to her spine. Her whole perfect body hanging from that fabulous boney lintel.

Her feet were shod in red crocs and the wrinkled soles of her small feet were exposed as she knelt down on a kneeling mat. Her back was to me as she busily worked with a garden trowel digging border plants into the row of newly upturned soil at the end of her garden.

Her limbs were lean and I was fascinated by her slim arms, noting that with my big hands I would easily be able to wrap my index finger and thumb around her wrist and the two digits would happily meet. I doubted that she could achieve the same feat with my aroused cock.

She had bundled her rich shining chestnut locks above her head in a glorious doughnut-shaped ring and as I peered with hyperopic eyes from my window my mouth went dry when I noticed that the item that she had used to fasten it was non-other than a frothy white nylon knee high sock.

The reinforced toe and leg band were hanging loosely from either side of the knot at the back of her head. I had longed to see such a fashion again since I first enjoyed it in the nineteen eighties.

“You naughty, horny little tease,” I thought to myself.

Little did I know at that moment just how accurate my assessment would be.

I picked up a stack of terracotta plant pots that I had been intending to take out into my garden. I had the intention of making my appearance seem nothing more than a routine. As though I had a purpose to be in my garden and then as a matter of pure courtesy I would introduce myself as her kind and helpful willing neighbour and not as the beast that longed to shoot his stuff into her ‘borrowed’ lingerie.

As I opened my kitchen door to the garden and stepped out, my neighbour was alerted by the sound and turned around to see who was there.

“Hello, you must be my new neighbour,” I politely suggested.

“That’s right, pleased to meet you I’m DirtyDream,” she replied.

She spoke with a European accent but I did not enquire where she was from because I didn’t want to appear too interested.

She didn’t introduce herself as ‘DirtyDream’ she said ‘Dorene’ but that’s how my willing self interpreted her words.

“Pleased to meet you Dorene and welcome to the neighbourhood. I’m Henry. It’s really nice around here, lots of pleasant people, a good neighbourhood, I’m sure you’ll enjoy settling in here,” I replied.

“Hi, Henry. Yes, it seems very nice,” she disclosed.

“Well, better get on with tidying up my flat, look forward to seeing you later,” I said.

“Yep, you too,” she replied informally.

I went back inside, I was glad to have made contact with her, pleased too that I hadn’t overplayed my hand even though I was rather keen to tell her that I would happily fix a washing line for her to my clothes post which was installed on the boundary between our two gardens. I didn’t want to alert her to the fact that I wanted to glimpse her intimate clothing on the washing line.

There was always the possibility that she might put out her smalls on a drying rack as is common these days and even without raising any suspicion I might get access to her feminine underclothing. I was in no doubt that if she did do such a thing and happen to forget to bring her washing in at night some article would definitely not be there in the morning since there was little fencing between the gardens.

Any number of people might be the culprit of such a misdemeanour. It’s simply not the case that one can purloin such intimate items particularly if one might be the sole person with the occasion to commit that criminal deed, thus leaving oneself as the number one suspect. Indeed if any of the other blokes in the neighbourhood felt like me they might get manisa escort there first.

I kept my voyeuristic eye on her as she continued with her planting in the garden. I was busy wondering what the panties might be like beneath her denim shorts, how her labia would look snuggled within them and everything else about her panties style, colour, type of material, pattern and the rest. That she might not be wearing anything at all beneath the shorts or that she might be wearing the matching panty of the black bikini swimwear never occurred to me. Bikini swimwear is made to be seen by anyone and knickers are not, at least not without permission.

Excitement relates to the forbidden. A decent man will go to lengths to obtain the permission to sink his cock into the pussy of a woman he fancies but would never attempt such a thing without that accord. Permission must be granted. Soiling the panties, stockings, bras and slips of a woman in secret often occurs without such agreement. The right is never granted and the incantation of the action never falters.

I watched as Dorene selected a packet of seeds that lay beside her and I reflected on how I would love to plant my seed within her, distribute it across her skin or at least bury it into the gusset of a pair of her soiled knickers or the salty toe of her office pantyhose. The closest relation to her bleating self.

During the following weeks of Summer she never once put out any washing at all as far as I was aware. I became increasingly desperate to discover something more about her underwear. Certainly, it would include opaque black pantyhose and white cotton socks that were part of her work attire. Furthermore, there would be some naughty little nylon knee high stockings, after all, she had already used one as a hair band but there my knowledge ended.

As Autumn approached and the nights drew in, my fascination to discover more of her intimate garments increased in intensity. One night when I arrived home very late and very drunk I went inside and noted that the contents of my kitchen rubbish bin were beginning to hum. The fish skin I had deposited in there two nights before was very ripe indeed. The following day was rubbish day and the bin men would be coming early in the morning to empty the wheely bins in the front street. I extracted the black plastic sack from my kitchen bin, tied the top together and made my drunken way cautiously down the stairs to the front door. I proceeded through it and down the front steps to the street. I lifted the lid of my wheely bin and dropped the bag inside before retracing my steps back to my kitchen.

I was arranging a new black bag in the rubbish bin when it suddenly occurred to me that there might be something of interest in Dorene’s wheely bin. Nylon hosiery has a finite life. There might be a pair of her discarded pantyhose or a pair of her nylon knee highs in her bin. I was a little ashamed that I might have such a thought but nonetheless, my fascination with the woman got the better of me. As it was so late at night and the street was quiet, no one was going to see me lift the lid of her bin and look to see if she had deposited any rubbish within it.

Carefully, I made my way down to the street and when I lifted the lid of her bin, there was a single black bag within it. Reaching my hand inside I extracted the sack, closed the lid silently and stealthily made my way back into my own flat and up to the kitchen.

My hands were shaking with anticipation as I untied the knot at the top of the sack and peered within. The bag was only partially filled and there was a plain white plastic carrier bag with the handles tied together. I pulled it out and began to untie the knot. Within it was a plethora of tissue, cotton buds and make-up removal pads but underneath and peeking out in several places was the unmistakable froth of black nylon stocking. I reached inside the bag and felt utterly euphoric as I pulled it free of the bag. A single leg of the pantyhose followed the bunch of soft material in my hand. I watched mesmerised as I lifted my hand above my head until the reinforced toe of the leg of the pantyhose was level with my eyes.

Bingo! I had won. All that was left to do was cover my tracks. I reassembled her black rubbish sack and quietly retraced my steps downstairs. I lifted the neighbour’s bin lid but I lost my grip on the handle and it crashed down loudly. I looked up to my neighbour’s window and I felt terrified when I saw that there was still a light burning in the room above. The gap between the curtains in the window closed before my eyes. Had I been seen messing about with her bin? With the nonchalance and callousness of a drunken man, I shrugged off any such concern before returning breathlessly to my winnings which I had placed on the work surface in my kitchen.

The varnished wooden surface of the kitchen table was clear of clutter and vacant and seemed like the ideal surface in which to draw out the bundle of nylon and examine precisely this prize treasure as though it was a priceless mardin escort archaeological relic. The pantyhose had probably been removed by Dorene in the bathroom prior to her taking a shower. The white plastic bag in which I found them contained only tissue, cotton buds and makeup removal pads. CSI U.K. would conclude that the plastic bag had been used to line the waste bin in her bathroom.

I unfolded the pantyhose and discovered that they were inside out. I put them the right way. I slipped my hand into the legs of the hose and something stirred in my trousers and my mouth was becoming increasingly dry. There was a sizeable ladder along the thigh part of one leg. With my hand in the feet of the hose, I could see many tiny snags that occur when a woman has removed her shoes and walked around without them. In my mind’s eye, I could see her stockinged feet treading boards and my humble self, in reverence before her kneeling and kissing and worshiping her feet. Adoring her. The reinforced toe and the heel revealed tiny white particles, skin cells that had been chafed from her feet. The opportunity existed to imbibe, a part, albeit a tiny part of this horny fems body. The garment had a provenance which bestowed upon it an infinite value.

To delay the conclusion of an ambition is a human value that distinguishes us from most other life forms on our planet. So it was with my filthy intentions towards Dorene’s unwashed hose. I wanted to savour the moment so I went to my bedroom and placed the garment beneath my pillows and went to get myself ready for bed. The emotive nature of the unexpected turn of events had had an incredibly sobering effect on me. Despite my night out on the town I no longer felt inebriated although I did have a fuzzy head and the liquor had had its way with my libido. As I climbed into my bed it was merely my intention to examine the frothy black treasure and then sleep with the satisfaction that at last, I had something intimate belonging to Dorene that would help satisfy my immeasurable craving for her horny body.

I pulled my duvet over me and I extracted the delicate article from beneath my pillow. I pressed the bunched up hose against my cheek and immediately my greedy nose began to collect the aromas of that heaven sent treasure. An overwhelming olfactory pleasure. That they had been discarded unwashed along with the makeup removal pads summated to a compendium of flavour, fragrance and scent of my absent neighbour.

I fell deeply into sleep, a consequence of alcoholic and emotional intoxication, but when I awoke in the morning the pantyhose were before my eyes still resting on my pillow. The pantyhose were royal. It was too early in the day for me to employ the protocol with which to address, to worship them, so I rolled out of bed and made my way to the bathroom instead. Having done the necessaries I went back to my bedroom and while routinely eyeing royalty on its feather filled throne I decided to make myself some coffee. It occurred to me that I did not want the aromatic qualities of Dorene’s pantyhose to deteriorate. I took a zip-lock food bag from the kitchen drawer and in my bedroom, I put the pantyhose within it and zipped it.

I was still preoccupied with saving the pleasure of my treasure so whilst enjoying two cups of coffee I made myself a spliff with some fabulous marijuana I kept and in that enhanced state I returned to my bedroom.

I love to wear pantyhose while I masturbate. I love to see my cock and balls trapped behind the mesh of the nylon panty. The feeling afforded by their softness and yet restrictive nature of the material raises my excitement to an ultimate intensity. On this occasion, I had no intention of contaminating the purity of Dorene’s hose with man smell and anyway they were many sizes too small for me.

Instead, I put on a pair of knickers selected from those that I have bought for myself. I chose a pair of full cut black panties with a mesh front with a pattern of black embroidery emulating delicate stalks and leaves. There was the usual little bow sewn in the middle of the front part of the waistband.

The label informed that their size was extra large and that they were of polyamide, polyester and elastane. Rather cheap knickers from a French hypermarket chain but nonetheless naughty. The back panel also in transparent mesh was plain except for a little pleat extending downwards a short distance from the centre of the waistband.

I sat on the edge of my bed, pulled the waistband below my balls and with my right hand I firmly gripped my shaft and with my left hand I held Dorene’s pantyhose to my face. I held one of the toes against my mouth and exhaled through the nylon to give it some humidity and reactivate the fragrances of her toes.

The ensuing aroma of nylon and pheromone, although subtle, smelled earthy and irresistible and made my cock grow. My best mate was now as hard as the wooden handle of a coal shovel and the head of my cock grew rouge blue and looked really angry and capable of no good. I released my grip on my shaft but that changed nothing, it needed no support, it throbbed and pulsed in a slow rhythmic manner. The head bowed and rose repeatedly as it responded to the pumping of blood from my adrenaline infused heart. It reminded me of the behaviour of a certain familiar animal in the farmyard. Cock-a-doodle-doo.

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

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

Once again I tried to take this monster cock in my mouth with no luck.

“Well,” Mark stated, “If she can’t suck it, then she can fuck it!”

He effortlessly spun me around and placed his glistening cock at the entrance to my anus, and said, “Ok sissy, ask Angel’s permission and beg me to fuck you and it better sound sincere or you can count on getting those two-hundred blows from Pam, which I’m sure she is dying to give you!”

“Please say no,” Pam encouraged me, I need the practice.

I gave up. I was broken and they knew it. I decided to let them do with me, what they want.

“Please, Angel,” I pleaded, “Let Mark fuck me with his big cock. I need it, please!”

“Of course darling,” Angel said in a teasing voice. “Who am I to stand in the way of my little sissy’s happiness?”

“Please Mark,” I begged. “Please fuck my little man-pussy with that beautiful black dick. I want it, I need it sooo bad!”

“Ok bitch,” Mark answered, “But hold on tight cause you’re going for the ride of your life. After me, you’ll be able to take horses and bulls. You’ll long for black cock, dream about it, beg for it!”

With that he thrust his cock deep inside my ass. At first, I felt faint. My head was spinning and I felt like I was being torn in half.

I might have kırşehir escort blacked out for a minute of so, then I became aware of his rhythmic assault upon my lower intestinal track.

I relaxed, completely submitting to his pounding. Then a strange thing happened. As his huge cock massaged my prostate gland through the thin membrane separating it from my rectum.

I felt a pleasurable feeling growing inside my cock and balls.

Oh my god! He was making me cum. I was his faggot bitch, responding to his cock’s manipulations. I could comments coming from the others in the room.

“Look at that little sissy go!”, “She loves it!”, “I think she is going to cum!”, “Looks like Mark turned him into a fucking faggot!”

Fuck them! I didn’t give a damn what they said; I was too much in my own pleasure zone to care.

Then I heard and felt Mark coming deep inside me. I was coming too! I thrust back to meet his strokes. Our duel orgasm seemed to last forever.

Finally he collapsed on top of me. I couldn’t move. We laid there, his cock slowly shrinking inside me.

I lay beneath his big black body feeling my own sticky cum against my stomach, cock and balls as it rubbed on the marble floor.

I could faintly hear cheers and malatya escort applause from the group and we both recovered.

As I regained my senses I could hear Angel’s moans of pleasure. I looked over to see Alex sitting on the couch with Angel sitting on his cock facing me.

She was bouncing up and down like a kid playing with their “Bouncy Ball”. She was making a noise that was somewhere between a laugh and a squeal.

She smiled at me and said, “Maybe I will marry you. I can see this marriage could have lots of advantages.

I was flooded with mix emotions, excitement, jealousy, shame, pride, confusion, just to name a few.

As I contemplated these thoughts, hypnotized by the sight of my fiancée cuckolding me before my eyes I noticed they both were about to climax.

I had never seen Angel climax before due to the fact that we had decided to not have sex until after the marriage.

He climax was amazing! It seemed to go on and on without end. Her groans, echoed through to room and halls of the house. Her eyes were closed and her breathing deep and rapid.

After they both recovered, Angel smiled at me and beckoned me with her index finger saying, “Come over here cucky and clean us up. This will be a regular job for niğde escort you from now on. You might say, it’s the icing on the cake.”

I crawled to where they were sitting and saw copious amounts of cum dripping down from their genitals.

“First lick him clean, then me'” Angel ordered.

I took his flaccid cock in my mouth and started my clean up duties.

“That’ right,” chided Angel, “Clean it real well, and then thank him for fucking your fiancée and giving her such a wonderful orgasm.”

After cleaning his dick and balls I said, “Thank you for fucking my fiancée and making her cum so hard.”

“Good boy,” Angel added, “now me. First lick my thighs and pussy lips, then you can put your tongue deep inside my pussy and try to get as much out as possible.”

She laughed and said,”We bear-backed and I’m not on any kind of birth control, so unless you want to be a nanny to little black baby, you had better do a good job!”

Once again this brought roars of laughter for everybody in the room.

Her last comment made me increase my licking and sucking efforts.

Angel continued to mock and tease me while I sucked her clean. “I’m afraid your little dick won’t do me much good after Alex’s beautiful cock. See how stretched out he has made me? You are pretty good and licking pussy so you can be my little pussy-licking, sissy-bitch from now on, ok?”

I continued licking as I nodded and gave my muffled consent. I knew that our relationship had changed completely and would never be the same again.

I had gotten what I asked for, in spades!

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Jason was completely fed up with his life, or lack thereof. He hated his job, he didn’t give a shit about his fucked-up family, and he had less than no interest in the giggling girls who threw themselves at him at work. As if he’d fuck any of the mindless twits. He needed more, and he knew it. Especially regarding his sex life. Or, again, lack thereof.

He’d tried to have a couple of relationships in college. But those girls were surprisingly idiotic, too. And weak. Most of them wouldn’t even assert themselves enough to choose a damned movie. Why did every girl he met assume that men wanted a stupid, mindless, malleable plaything?

For years he’d fantasized about a strong woman. One that could take control of him, and his needs. His fantasies were fed by the internet, and endless websites that he had spent too much money subscribing to. One in particular, The Society, had become his favorite over the years. He’d finally unsubscribed to the others, and focused all of his spare time on that one.

It was an elaborate fantasy world. There were Dom/me’s that were all wealthy and powerful. Their dungeons were a submissive’s dream come true. Filled with horses, swings, punishment benches, impaler towers, spreader bars, and even puppy cages. And lots of naked, eager men and women that The Society called “darling toys”.

The Domm/me’s controlled it all. Starting with the leashes of the seemingly endless toys, who were all used in every way imaginable. The toys were fucked, and used to fuck each other. They were pissed on and gagged and cropped and took dildos, fists, cocks, clamps, and every other implement known to man in every orifice of their bodies. He’d watched it all, and wished that he was one of those toys.

Then there were the “dear slaves”. Those ones were one step above the toys. The males were dressed in leather straps across their chests to denote their status. The females wore short togas that were cut to reveal their breasts and ended low on their waists. Nothing important was hidden by their clothes. They organized trains on the willing toys. They even plied whips and canes occasionally. They were used, and commanded to use the toys. The idea of being one of them, balancing between submission and domination, shook him to his core.

Every once in awhile a “beloved submissive” would show up. All the ones he saw were female, and were the most favored of the Dom/me’s toys. They wore longer togas that covered their assets, but were easily slipped up to allow access to their asses and pussies. There was one in particular that caught his eye. Siena. She was the beloved submissive of Master Jacob. He used her in the most amazing ways.

He’d watched Siena being tied to horses, whipped, (surprisingly lightly), and then fucked for hours. Master Jacob had looked on, smiling while he fucked male toys’ assess and female toys’ pussies. But the Dom never seemed to come in any of them.

Master Jacob only came in his beloved sub Siena, at least for the camera. But that only happened after she was thoroughly cleaned of all other come by laving tongues. Jason had masturbated countless times to their erotic shows. He’d fantasized about being one of those toys, licking Siena’s holes clean for Master Jacob.

After one particularly shitty day at work, Jason stormed into his apartment and slammed the front door angrily before locking it. The fucking asshole on the phone had screamed at him for thirty minutes. Jason had figured out long ago that people felt like they could be pricks over the phone when they’d never talk to him like that face to face. It had royally fucked up his call times, and his bitchy boss had given him shit for not reaching his quota.

He jerked off the hated tie and tossed it on his bed. Why the fuck did he have to wear one in a call center, anyway? It wasn’t like any of the callers ever saw him. Rolling his eyes at the stupid rules, he gritted his teeth in frustration and sneered as he looked around his slightly messy apartment. The best he could say for it was at least the dishes were done.

He hated this fucking studio, too. The neighbors were always fighting over God knows what. The fire station two blocks over must be the most overworked station in the city, because sirens were constantly blaring day and night. And the fucking toilet still leaked after five months of his complaints.

Jason poured himself a whiskey and sat down at his computer. Flicking it on, he scowled and considered just packing up and moving somewhere. Anywhere. But as far as he could tell, every other place would be just as shitty as this one. Fuck it. At least he had The Society.

While the crappy old computer booted up, he stripped off his button-up shirt and sighed. Hanging it and his slacks up in the meager closet, he rolled his eyes at the other identical white shirts and black slacks. What a boring fucking life.

Slouching back into the chair in front of his computer, he navigated to The Society’s website and logged on. When the screen flickered, then went black, he scowled. If van escort his computer died, he might finally lose his mind and go postal. To his shock, the screen lit up with Siena’s face.

“Greetings. You have been chosen among The Society’s devotees for a very special invitation. Mistress Elena will be choosing a new toy for individual training. If you are interested, report to Hangar Eight at Pleasant Valley Airport on Tuesday at nine in the morning. Late applicants will not be accepted.”

Jason reeled back. What the fuck? This couldn’t be real. Mistress Elena? The most requested Trainer of all The Society? It was impossible. It was all fake, right? She was just an actress. Right? Maybe this was a cute way of auditioning for more actors?

But why here, in Pleasant Valley? Which was a misnomer if he’d ever heard one. There was very little about this valley that was pleasant. Shaking his head from the random thoughts, he stared at the screen.

Siena faded, and the normal site popped back up. Shaking, he clicked on the ornate door that led to Mistress Elena’s Dungeon. A list of videos came up, but he ignored those. He’d already watched all of them. Many, many times. Her door was always the first he clicked on. Much to his frustration, nothing new had been posted for almost a month.

But there was a new icon at the top of the page now. It looked like an engraved invitation, and it was addressed to “casub243”, which was his logon name. He’d chosen it before he knew that The Society’s definition of sub did not quite meet most of the D/s community’s. Clicking on the icon, he held his breath.

Mistress Elena filled the screen. She was leaning back, relaxed and smiling on a gold and cream striped chaise lounge. Dressed in a fluffy white robe, her normal severe braid had been released, and her thick black hair fell in soft waves, framing her face and tumbling over her shoulders. She held a glass of champagne loosely in one hand, and was smiling happily.

It was the smile that shook him the most. He’d seen a wide range of emotions on her beautiful face. Stoic, disapproving, approving, and even a bit of amusement here and there. But never that happy smile.

He focused on the scene behind her for a second. The lounge sat in front of a wide picture window. The angle showed off elaborate gardens in the background, and a thick forest behind them. Luxurious curtains framed the window, and he realized that film setting had to have been very expensive. It was fascinating. He’d only ever seen her in her dungeon before. They hadn’t spared any expense for that setting, either.

“Your interest has not gone unnoticed, little one. But it is not enough to be interested. We have rules, and expectations. Very few who apply are accepted. In this case, only one. This is a private invitation. One would hope that you would not be so crass as to bring a friend along.”

Jason’s breath quickened. Was this for real? Real real? Was it possible? And if so, how had he gotten a special invitation? But the website operators could track which videos he watched, and how often. Maybe… Her voice broke into his thoughts again.

“If you are chosen, I will train you, and I will keep you. As you are well aware, I demand obedience, and worship. In return for which, I will offer guidance and support on your journey into total submission to my will. This is not a game, little one. Think carefully before you apply.”

When Mistress Elena lifted her glass in a small salute and drank, the screen blanked out again. Mistress Elena’s main site came back up. Jason shook his head and took a fiery gulp of whiskey. No way. There was no way that this was real. But why the fuck would they have given him an address to go to?

The website obviously made huge amounts of money. It was professionally maintained, with new videos constantly being posted. It wasn’t like someone from The Society would want to lure him to a hanger at the airport to steal his wallet. Downing the remaining whiskey, he did exactly as Mistress Elena ordered, and thought carefully.

Tomorrow was Tuesday. At nine in the morning he had to be in his seat at work, or he would be written up. But he wouldn’t actually be fired. Just get a ration of shit from his boss. Chewing on his lip, he clicked on one of his favorite videos of Mistress Elena training a toy.

The toy was tied to a submission bench in her elegant dungeon. She instructed him to take a huge butt plug deep in his ass.

“Suck on it with your asshole, toy. Caress it. Pull it in, and push it out. Not all the way. Just until it hurts.”

She stepped back. The camera focused on the plug moving in time to the toy’s rhythmic grunts and moans of pleasure.

“Good boy. We will train that pretty little hole to take Master Hudson’s huge cock. You want to please your beloved Master Hudson, don’t you?” Her voice was sweetly dominating.

The toy nodded frantically. “Yes, Mistress. Thank you for your loving instruction,” he gasped.

“You are welcome, darling yalova escort Erik. Such a pretty toy. Mistress Zenith did not use your ass enough for Master Hudson’s tastes. She enjoyed your beautiful cock far too much to pay attention to your hole. We will stretch it wide, then train it to clamp down tight. Ten minutes with this plug, then we move on to the next largest.”

“Thank you, Mistress,” he whispered submissively.

Jason’s eyes focused on the tiny Mistress as she came back into view. She hummed approvingly as she slapped the toy’s ass hard, leaving a bright hand print on his cheek.

Jason’s cock bobbed to attention in his boxers, and he slipped it out from between the flaps.

Watching her set out other implements, he fantasized about being that giant man on her bench. She would stretch his tight ass wide. For her pleasure, not Master Hudson’s. Stroking his cock, he spread the pre-come over its head and groaned.

Fuck it. Fuck work. Fuck his cunt of a boss. He’d go. Hanger Eight.

*****

When Jason arrived at the small municipal airport, he was surprised at the security presence. A man with a clipboard and earpiece approached his car and eyed him suspiciously.

“Name?”

“Uhm, Jason, sir. Jason Mattingly,” he answered hesitantly.

The huge man flipped pages and shook his head. “Screen name?”

“Oh, uhm.. casub243,” he whispered, embarrassed.

The man found the new name quickly and beamed. “Star next to your name, kid. You’ve impressed someone already.” Slapping a huge gold star onto his windshield, he waved Jason on. “Park closest to the hangar. Might be here awhile,” he said with a conspiratorial wink.

Jason nodded wordlessly and pulled his ancient Toyota forward. He was amazed at the number of cars there. Every make and model from a shiny black Lexus to an old-school yellow VW van painted with rainbows. The parking attendants or security guards or whatever they were all focused on the star on his windshield as they waved him closer and closer to the hangar.

Jesus. This was real. Real real. He glanced at his watch. It was only eight thirty and the parking lot was almost full. Apparently no one wanted to be late. Shaking as he got out of the car, he didn’t bother to lock the door on the piece of crap.

An eager woman with an earpiece and clipboard rushed up to him and smiled. “Casub243?”

“Uhm, yes,” he admitted, confused. How the hell did he earn a star, anyway?

“So glad to meet you. I’m toy Priscilla. You might not recognize me with clothes on,” she teased happily.

Jason’s jaw dropped. A blush stole up his face. He’d masturbated while she screamed in pleasure and pain from Master Chu’s abnormally huge cock pounding in and out of her ass relentlessly. Priscilla was a registered come slut, and was well known for being able to orgasm over and over.

She didn’t seem to be even slightly embarrassed, and motioned to him as she turned and led him to the side door of the hangar. “Hurry, beloved sub Siena has been waiting to greet you,” she urged.

His heart pounded. Beloved sub Siena was there? He felt his cock growing and closed his eyes. God, he really needed to learn how to control that. Mistress Elena had been clear in various videos that she preferred her trainees to remain soft unless commanded to be hard. None of them were able to comply fully.

When he entered the hangar, he looked around and gaped again. There were literally hundreds of men there. Lines snaked toward tables set against one wall. It reminded him of old videos of World War II volunteers. Men were filling out papers, being weighed and measured, blood pressure cuffs applied, and then handed folders to carry with them to the next table.

Some of the men were rejected outright. Those that were unclean, scruffy, overweight, or shorter than six feet, were hustled out the far door, obviously disappointed. Jason gulped and thanked his lucky stars that he was tall and well-formed.

Priscilla tugged him toward a red velvet curtain. He stepped behind it and bit his lip. Siena sat behind a long table piled with boxes, laughing while she chatted on a sleek cell phone. The sort of phone that cost more than his monthly rent.

Yeah, okay. This was real. At least, he knew the website was making money. As for the rest of it… it still had to just be some kind of audition… Right? For an actor to play their toys? Mistress Elena’s toy, to be precise.

“Yes, beloved Master Jacob, I will. Five o’clock, and not a second later,” Siena promised.

Priscilla approached her and whispered, “Casub243,” and waved toward him.

Jason blushed furiously. He seriously wished he’d chosen another screen name when he’d first joined The Society’s website.

“Oh, Master Jacob, casub243 just showed up. I’ll send you pictures,” she said excitedly.

He swallowed hard. What had he done that earned him this rock star treatment? There must be thousands of men who had watched their videos. He couldn’t possibly be that çorlu escort special.

“Yes, my beloved Master Jacob. I live to serve,” Siena replied submissively to whatever command her Master had given her. Hanging up, she grinned and stood.

“Strip, little one,” she ordered.

Jason blinked twice at the command until a frown began to form on Siena’s beautiful face. He pulled off his t-shirt quickly and laid it on the folding steel chair. Hesitating for a fraction of a second, he reminded himself that he was signing up for a helluva lot more than nudity. Toys were always naked. Always. He kicked off his shoes and pulled down his jeans and boxers in one swoop. Stepping out of them, he tossed them on the chair and started to pull off his socks.

“No, leave your socks on. Cement floors. You won’t have to worry about that in Mistress Elena’s House. Beautiful carpets. Except for the marble floors in her foyer and dungeon, of course, but they’re heated. Mistress Elena is very fond of her comforts,” Siena advised with a smile.

“Thank you, beloved sub Siena,” he said respectfully, and dipped his head in submission. Mistress Elena’s house? Exactly how real was this?

Siena and Priscilla exchanged significant smiles while Priscilla gathered up his clothes and put them in a cardboard file box. She labeled it with his screen name and set it aside.

“Phone, keys, and wallet in there?” Siena asked Priscilla.

“Yes, beloved sub Siena,” Priscilla confirmed.

“Good. Make your cock hard, boy. Toy Priscilla, measure him.”

“Yes, beloved sub Siena,” Priscilla replied and pulled the tape out of a hidden pocket in her short toga.

Jason closed his eyes and brought Mistress Elena’s training of toy Erik to mind. He fought to not shiver at the cold, and knew that he would have a difficult time becoming fully hard.

Siena hummed in disapproval. “Toy Priscilla, make this one hard,” she commanded.

“Yes, beloved sub Siena,” she agreed and fell to her knees in front of Jason.

Jason’s eyes flew back open at the feel of her mouth on his cock. She sucked him deep into her mouth, then all the way into her throat.

“Oh, God,” he gasped. His hands automatically went to her head, but he pulled them away quickly. Standing at attention in Position Nineteen, he spread his legs shoulder-width and gripped his hands behind his back. Priscilla slurped and sucked happily while he groaned and shook under her attentions.

“That should be sufficient. Hold up the measuring tape. Smile for the camera, dear Priscilla.”

Priscilla laughed and held the tape against Jason’s raging hard cock. Siena took a few pictures, then ordered Priscilla to measure his width. A few more pictures later, she was sending them off, presumably to Master Jacob.

“Eight by three. Nice start. You obviously know the Positions. Position Four,” Siena commanded firmly.

Jason dropped to his knees and laid his cheek on the hard cement. He reached back and spread his ass cheeks wide, shaking uncontrollably. Seriously hoping they took it as shivering from the cold, he desperately tried to calm his raging erection. He felt Siena’s hovering behind him, and knew that his tight ass was being examined.

Siena hummed in approval and snapped a few more pictures. “Finally, a shaved ass. But you’re far too tight, of course. Have you even taken a dildo in there?”

“No, beloved sub Siena,” he admitted. Of course he’d thought about it. He’d wanted to, but… He didn’t think of himself as gay. Jason wanted someone to do it to him. For him. Specifically, Mistress Elena.

“Finger? Anything?” Siena’s questioning pulled him back to now, and his tight hole that Mistress Elena would want to stretch.

“Yes, beloved sub Siena. I’ve fingered my asshole,” Jason confessed. Any other time he would have been incredibly embarrassed to say those words, but he was actually proud of his experimentation now.

“Well I guess that’s better than nothing. Cherry asshole. I hope you make it through, little one. Master Jacob likes taking almost-virgin asses. But Mistress Elena will demand that you’re stretched out before you can earn the status of a perfect toy.”

“Thank you, beloved sub Siena,” he whispered submissively.

“Position Nineteen.” She waited for him to stand, and assume the position again.

“Very good posture, too. You still have to wind your way through the process, though. But you’re already head and shoulders above most of the dreck showing up.”

“Thank you, beloved sub Siena.” Jason kept his eyes lowered, and was grateful that he’d studied all of the training videos. Obsessively.

Siena picked up a permanent marker and a large star out of a very short stack. “Name?”

“Jason Mattingly,” he answered.

She wrote Jason in block letters on the star and peeled off the backing. Sticking it to his chest, she patted his ass solicitously. “Good luck, Jason.”

“Thank you, beloved sub Siena.”

Priscilla motioned for him to follow her and stepped back into the main room of the hangar. Jason’s cheeks flamed as he walked behind her, completely naked except for his socks and the star on his chest. Glancing around, he didn’t see a single other man there without clothes on. He lowered his eyes submissively and squirmed in humiliation.

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My ass is on fire. I am being punished for buying shoes without permission. I know he loves spanking me, and the shoes were really an excuse, and I am glad to be able to give him pleasure in this way as much as in any other. But oh I wish he wouldn’t do it so hard! He has been spanking me now for about five minutes, and I have already begun to cry. I quickly pretended tears when he first starting spanking me, convinced he would take pity on me once I started crying, but I swiftly realized that tears had no effect. The only thing that stops him is when his hand gets tired! At the moment he is taking a break, resting his poor dear hand, and I am trying to catch my breath.

I’m lying across his lap and the highest part of me, my ass cheeks, are flaming and it feels as though I could not possibly take any more. But I know from many previous spankings that we are probably less than half way through. Or maybe he will start with the strap now. His fingers are lightly trailing over my bum, and down the backs of my thighs, and he knows that he is making me shiver; making me even wetter than the spanking has already made me. Those silky fingers keep threatening to explore, and we both know that as soon as they start exploring I will start cumming, and from then on I will cum and cum all the time he spanks me. But he is teasing at the moment, his mersin escort fingers not quite there. I have opened my thighs in silent invitation, but he has not responded by sliding his fingers in there, where I am wet and hot and musky.

As I wait for him to start again, I realize one of those lovely red shoes has fallen off and is lying on the floor below me. Typical of him that he makes me wear them for this spanking, to remind me why I am being punished. Also on the floor so close below me I can barely focus on it is the strap, which he intends to finish me off with. One stroke for every five dollars the shoes cost! His hand is moving, sliding in where I want it! Ooooh, his fingers are exploring, oh fuck they are indeed, suddenly and without warning he has slid a hand in between my thighs, in between my labia, IN ME! A climax crashes through me, and I howl in anguished pleasure.

I think of the open window, always left open so the neighbors can hear, part of my punishment is that the neighbors must hear. Christy, my best friend, lives next door, and I suspect she is out in her garden, poised, breathless, and probably masturbating as she listens to my anguish. Her husband never spanks her, she has never been spanked, and she is almost insanely jealous of this aspect of my life. Thinking of muğla escort Christy, I try to choke off my moans, try to accept his attentions in silence, but it is impossible, his thumb is now actually on my clitoris! Pressing down on it! My thighs clamp tightly around his forearm, determined never to release him, never to allow him to withdraw his lovely glorious hand from inside me.

“Let go, Ann,” he says, coolly, impossibly coolly.

How can he be so cool when he has gotten me so hot! I feel him twisting, reaching down with his left hand, and picking up the strap from the floor below my nose. I watch it disappear from view, and reluctantly open my thighs.

His fingers withdraw and he says, “I think Ann, that I require you to be standing, bent over, touching your toes, for the strap.”

Has he noticed that one shoe has fallen off? Is that the reason for this change of plan? I struggle breathlessly to my feet, and stand, one bare foot on tiptoe, the other perched on the steeply sloping sole of the remaining shoe. Am I meant to kick this shoe off, or put back on the one that I lost when I was kicking and struggling just now? He kicks the missing shoe at me, and I quickly slip it on. He reminds me yet again that the shoes are the cause of my punishment. As I bend to touch my toes, I look down nevşehir escort at them and I don’t care that I am being punished; they are the nicest shoes in my whole wardrobe. It is almost impossible to touch my toes in these high heels, but I do my best, and I can imagine what the position is doing to my legs, to my bum! I struggle to retain my balance in this tightly stretched position. The strap kisses my tender, hot bum, and lifts away. I am about to pay for these shoes, and I know that the neighbors will hear me howling, and tomorrow Christy will quiz me about it, wanting to know everything that happened.

Right at this moment, awaiting the pain, I would gladly swap places with her, let her take my place, bent over, bum thrust out, legs straining. But I know that in a few minutes he will drop the strap and push me down onto the carpet, and moments later I will be experiencing his passion, as his rampant, hard, leaking cock thrusts into me, hammering my blazing bum into the carpet as he takes his pleasure in me and I take my pleasure from him. Does he know that Christy is listening, does he get off on her innocent face when she visits, takes coffee with me, looks at him all admiring because he dares to chastise his woman? I don’t care, because right now it is my ass that has his undivided attention. And very soon it will be me getting fucked by him. I look down at my lovely red shoes and tell myself not to cry out, to take my punishment in dignified silence. The strap falls. I howl, and start to sob like a silly schoolgirl. Tears flood my eyes; I can no longer see my lovely red shoes as the sweet pain rushes through me.

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Author’s Note:

Beware. The following story is most certainly not for everybody. For those who find graphic depictions of bodily functions erotic, by all means please continue. If farting, pissing and shitting really aren’t your thing, then kindly move on to another story.

My intention here was to create a story that incorporates romance along with animal desire. I hope I have succeeded at least a little in achieving this goal. Thank you very much for taking the time to read it.

Oh, and as always, all reference to persons, places or events is entire fictional. Any similarities are entirely coincidental.

I.

Ever so gently the breeze rustled the grass clippings, cut not more than an hour ago and still bleeding freshness and vitality into the air. It crossed the playground, paying little attention to the children running about, their ruddy faces perspiring and their fingernails gathering dirt, but stopped instead to play with the lilac bushes at the far end, where the park met the sidewalk. From there it traveled down the street. It sideswiped garbage pales set out for the following morning and wound around maple, oak and ginkgo trees. It hit Mrs. Green from behind as she was watering her tulips, sending ripples through her floral print dress. It ran up Mr. Weinberg’s stubbly cheek as he was bending low, match in cupped hands, attempting to light the charcoal in his grill, and it passed through an open window into Joanne’s lesson room. She closed her eyes and took in the sweet august aroma.

The child sitting beside her was restless; she could feel it as she guided his tiny hands across the ivory keys, showing him the positions of the notes with great patience as he fidgeted. He wanted to be outside with the other kids on the playground, swinging high into the air and squeeking with relentless energy as they ran after one another and kicked up the dirt. She wanted to be somewhere else too. She needed to clean yet, and to cook and get dressed. It was a quarter to four. Howard would be coming at six.

They closed the songbook when the doorbell rang, and the child darted from the room to greet his mother on the porch. He hugged her legs and tugged at the bottom of her shirt.

“How was he, Joanne?” she asked as the child ran in circles around her.

“Just fine, like always,” Joanne said with a warm smile. She reached down and patted the little boy on the head.

They waved their goodbyes and mother and son climbed into their car. Joanne watched them drive off down the street.

“I don’t know how you do it, Joanne.”

The voice came from the left. Joanne turned her head to see her neighbor David standing in his yard. A tall man, and thin, he was mostly bald except for a ring of graying hair that ran around the back of his head from temple to temple. She descended the steps and sauntered over, her arms crossed.

“They’re not bad at all.”

“Oh jeez, I don’t know. Brian’s been talking about adoption recently, but I don’t think I could stand one of those things running around the house all day long.” As he said this David scrunched his face up into a humorously disgusted look. Joanne couldn’t suppress a small chuckle.

“Your in good spirits today, aren’t you?” he said.

“I guess so.”

“You know, I ran into an old friend of mine yesterday.”

Joanne knew where this was going. “Go on,” she insisted.

“And I was thinking.”

“Uh-hu?”

“That he would be perfect for you!”

She closed her eyes and gently shook her head back and forth.

“But Joanne, he’s a great guy. And how long has it been since Richard left? Two years?”

Richard. Once the love of her life. That name used to stop her dead in her tracks. Right now it wasn’t the name that hit her, but rather the fact that its impression was negligible. This left her smiling inside.

“That’s right, two years.”

“So don’t you want to get on with your life? Who knows, if you settle down with somebody you might even start playing again.”

These words had more of a punch. Her stomach knotted up now at the mere thought of standing on stage in front of a crowd.

“Actually,” she said quickly to steer the conversation away from the topic of her failed music career, “I won’t be needing your friend.”

“Why not?” David asked, his eyes perking up with interest.

Joanne shot him a smile. “I’ve met someone.”

His jaw dropped. “That’s great! What’s his name?”

“Howard.”

“Where did you meet him?”

To give a truthful response to this question or not?

“I met him online,” she said. She checked her watch. “Damn. David, I hate to cut it short, but he’s actually coming over tonight, and I’ve still got to get ready.”

“Okay I’ll let you go. Make sure to stop by sometime and tell me about your date.”

David gave her a peck on the cheek and disappeared into his house. She stood there for a few seconds, taking in the smell of the lilacs. They smelled like she felt inside.

Walking back into her house, she let the screen trabzon escort door slam shut and bounce back and forth into equilibrium. She looked about the house and an intense feeling rushed over her, a realization about the last two years that she had been living.

She needed music.

In the living room she placed a CD in her stereo. Ahhh . . . Rachmaninov. Those delicate notes, saturated with passion, swirled around the air like specks of dust illuminated in an afternoon sunbeam. They filled every corner of the house, bringing to it a velvety ambiance. With her head lost in the music Joanne glided into kitchen, the aging floorboards creaking under her feet. There she placed a large pot on the stove, chopped up some vegetables, threw them in, set the burner on low and glided out into the dining room. Here the table was full of old newspaper clippings and scrap-book supplies, remnants of her latest newfound hobby. She swept all of these up into her arms and threw them into a box in the corner for later attention. With an old cloth she polished the dust from the table.

In the living room she pirouetted as she ran a broom across the floor. She picked up cheap romance novels from a large pile at the foot of the recliner, arranging them in no particular order on her several large bookshelves. She pulled up the blinds, cleaned the windowsills and the lampshades, and replaced the potpourri on the coffee table in front of the sofa. She set down two wineglasses and a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon before twirling past the entry hall and up the stairs to the second floor.

Quick facial, shower, nails, stray hair pluck. In her bedroom she fretted over which dress to wear, deciding finally against a dress and opting instead for simple jeans and a blouse. She looked at herself in the closet mirror. Though by no means out of shape, in the two years since Richard had left she had let herself go. They were small things: a tiny bulge around the waist, her cheeks a bit fuller than normal and accentuating her slight overbite and her cute button nose, her naturally curly brown hair longer than usual and slightly unkempt. All of these sights forced themselves upon her in the late afternoon sunlight that crept through her curtains. But then, at the same time none of them seemed to matter all that much.

In the kitchen, as the pots on the stove boiled away, sending a thick aromatic steam into the air above, Joanne stood at the backdoor, sipping on a glass of beer and watching a robin hop across her backyard. The doorbell rang.

“Hey,” she smiled, opening the door for Howard. He came in with a bottle of wine under one arm and a record under the other.

“I hope red is okay,” he said as he handed the bottle to her.

“What’s that?” she asked, pointing to the LP.

He flashed an excited smile. “Well, I remember you saying that you have a turntable, and I thought that you might like to hear this.”

Joanne took the record and read the title out loud. “West Meets East: Yehudi Menuhin/Ravi Shanker. Howard this is amazing. Where did you get this?”

“I found it at a used record store downtown. Shall we put it on?”

“Of course,” she said as she moved in to the living room. The receiver gave a loud click as she switched it to phono. The stylus lowered on the rotating black disc, the speakers crackled with static before the sound of tanpura and violin gently filled the air.

“This is exquisite,” she said.

“You look exquisite,” he said.

She turned around to find his face inches from hers, and all of a sudden her ground rumbled, as if threatening to break away beneath her. He leaned in and their lips met, and the ground did break away from her.

Howard stepped back with a warm smile. “I think dinner’s ready,” Joanne said meekly as blood slowly drained from her face. She felt like fanning herself.

They sat down at the kitchen table. She watched him efficiently unfold his napkin and place it on his lap, and then pour himself a glass of wine. Like a professional he swirled it around and sniffed it before taking a small sip.

“How is it?” she asked.

He smacked his lips. “Taste’s alright. I’ve had better.”

Inside she had to laugh. Never had she met a man who was so refined, yet so matter-of-fact. “And this is the guy? This is the one?” she said to herself. “This is the guy who’s going to help me fulfill my fantasy?” It was really too good to be true.

Just to be sure, in her mind she turned back the clock four and a half weeks, to the time when she signed up at the sex site and placed the add. Did it seem like a ludicrous idea? Yes. Possibly the last act of a desperate woman? That was a big affirmative. Would she get responses? She was unsure at the time. She didn’t know if any man would care to sit with her while she took a dump.

Apparently quite a few, judging from the responses that she got. Seeing the packed mailbox, her first reaction was anger at her ex-husband. Why couldn’t Richard be more understanding of her needs? Any one of tunceli escort these guys was perfectly willing. But then she started reading the responses, and she realized that these men were pigs; they were simple perverts and nothing more.

But not Howard.

She thought about the morning of their first meeting, about how she got up and lost her nerve, and almost didn’t make it. On her way to the coffee shop she stressed over what she was going to say, how in the world she was actually going to get the right words out of her mouth. It almost seemed impossible.

Sitting there, watching him chew, she mentally reenacted the meeting as she would do so for years to come.

II.

The coffee shop belonged to a national chain. No matter how hard it tried to hide this fact with it’s numerous statements about simplicity and sustainability, statements about commitment to organic free-trade and commitment to underdeveloped communities, at the end of the day it offered nothing more than smartly designed furniture for people to sit on, and from which to drink high calorie drinks out of 30% recycled paper cups. Joanne hated these sorts of places. She preferred local over national wherever she went. She enjoyed walking on dirty, scuffed marked tile floors that were incapable of a proper cleaning. She preferred sitting on peeling chairs that were sometimes in such a state of disrepair that they needed duct-tape to stay together. She loved drinking her coffee out of plain mugs handed down between generations and permanently stained with years of use.

But under the circumstances, in which anonymity and public exposure were essential, she was perfectly willing to make the sacrifice.

Through the large window – her heart accelerating with the thrill of prospect – she scanned the room for her date. It was 7:25, too early yet for the rush of professionals in desperate need of caffeine to get through those first crucial hours of the morning. Joanne saw a couple of older gentlemen sitting to the right, obviously together but each engrossed in the morning paper and not paying the other any attention. She pinned them as retirees. Behind the counter at the rear of the shop there were two baristas attending to their various duties – checking temperatures and pressures, grinding whole beans and pouring them into various machines, arranging sweets and baked goods and breakfast foods in the glass showcase.

There, to the back and left. It was a young guy sitting alone and typing away at a lap-top. Was that Howard? She stepped in, getting a nose full of freshly brewed coffee and ears full of Joni Mitchell as she did so.

Timidly, she approached. “Howard?”

The young man looked up. His eyes widened. “Joanne?” he half said, half asked as he stuck out his hand.

Somewhere in the distance an artillery shell exploded.

His irises were green with a slight hint of yellow, and they were vivid like an acrylic painting. They exuded a sense of wonderment.

“Joanne Wachouski?”

“You know who I am?”

“Wow! Of course! You played with the London Symphony Orchestra. I’ve got your solo album. I simply love your work. I think your brilliant!”

She had fans? Real fans?

“Um” was the only word that she managed to get out. Then, “I’m just gonna grab something to drink.” Howard nodded with a wide smile and went back to his computer.

So many thoughts raced through her mind as she ordered her coffee. “I can’t believe that he knows me. Should I just leave?”

She turned her head to look at him, now quickly typing away. A quick scan of his person: cross trainers, corduroy pants, a dark green T-shirt. His silky brown hair was long and well kept. His chin was made pronounced by a day’s worth of black stubble, and his nose and mouth were slender.

“But he seems like such a nice guy. And so cute. Could this really be him? I was expecting somebody much creepier.”

A horrid thought occurred to her. Maybe he misinterpreted the add? Had she made it explicit enough? She thought back to his response, which she had read so many times that she had memorized it:

Joanne,

This sounds like a wonderful opportunity to fulfill a longtime fantasy of mine. I’d love to meet you.

Yours sincerely,

Howard

These were the words that grabbed at her. They were simple, but in them she read an undercurrent of the same kinds of feelings that she had felt for most of her adult life.

Back at the table.

“Just a few more words,” he said without looking up from his lap top. “I’m so sorry about this . . .and . . . there we go,” he added as he forcefully hit the enter key. “I just had to finish responding so some student e-mails.” He turned his full attention to her now, eyes locked in. “Wow,” he said in a tone of tremendous satisfaction. “Joanne Wachouski, sitting at my table.”

She took a sip of her coffee. She was trying her best to meet his gaze, though the feeling that her face was currently engorged with blood made this very difficult. uşak escort “Howard,” she finally said. “I’m flattered, really, but please don’t.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.”

Uncomfortable? How else was she supposed to feel? She hadn’t anticipated coming across somebody that knew her so well. And now, through this gorgeous specimen of a man, she had inadvertently given the outside world a peak into her dark inner self.

His head perked up and he smiled, revealing a set of beautiful white teeth. “Okay. So you don’t know me, and we can pretend that I don’t know anything about you. Why don’t we get to know each other, then?”

She liked the thought of this idea; it felt like something that she could handle.

“Okay,” she said. You said something about students. Are you a professor?”

He grinned. “I’m flattered that you made the mistake, but not by a long shot. I’ve got quite a few more years to go until I get that far. I’m a graduate student.”

“What do you study?” she said as she took another sip of her coffee.

“I study philosophy.”

“And that’s what you’re teaching?”

“Yeah. It’s an intro-continental philosophy course. You know – Hegel, Kierkeggard, Derrida. That type of stuff.”

“Oh,” she said while nodding, though she wasn’t paying much attention. Howard caught on.

“What is it?” he asked.

“What?”

“The way your looking at me, almost like you don’t believe me.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “That’s not it. I was just wondering.”

“Wondering what? Go ahead, ask me any question and I’ll answer it.”

There it was, on the tip of her lips. She didn’t know if the time was ripe to broach the inevitable topic hanging on the horizon, but it needed escape. She leaned in closer and lowered her voice to a half-whisper. “Why did you answer my add?”

He looked pensive, as if somebody were playing a joke that he didn’t quite get. “Shouldn’t I have?”

“It’s just that you look so . . . so normal.”

Now he grinned. “I’ve got news for you.” He leaned in closer and his voice, too, dropped to a whisper. “So do you.”

A young woman brushed by the table and walked into the bathroom, only a couple feet away. Howard instinctively shot a glance in her direction, and then turned back to Joanne, feeling slightly guilty about his wandering eyes. But in her eyes he met a cool understanding. They sat there in silence as behind the thick wooden door they heard the toilet flush and the sink run. The woman came out and brushed by them one more time.

“Hey,” he said. “Do you want to take a walk?”

Outside the air was still cool, though the sun was threatening to cast a blanket of heat over the land. The sky, now a pale blue, boasted only a few faint wisps of cloud. The two headed down the street to a bridge. There they turned off on a path that lead down to a canal, joining several couples walking their dogs.

They strolled lazily, hands in their pockets and heads down, like in a movie. Howard closed his eyes and took in the rich, earthy scent of the water drifting slowly by. In the middle of the river, where a pair of mallards scooted around and bobbed under the surface, the ripples on the water caught the sunlight with sparks. In the thick underbrush birds fluttered and insects buzzed around as if they were high on some controlled substance.

“Joanne?”

“You can call me Jo.”

“Is that what your friends call you?”

She smiled knowingly. “Just my special friends.”

“Why did we meet so early?”

“Oh, that was a test.” She drew closer to him so that their arms were almost touching. “You see, in my experience weirdo creeps don’t like to get up before noon at the earliest.”

Howard chuckled. “Man, I can just imagine the kind of responses that you got to your add.”

“Oh my God! It was disgusting,” she said, now laughing too. “All of them were

complete sleeze bags. You can’t begin to imagine the kind of stuff they said that they wanted to do to me.

“Well, it’s nice to know that I’m not a weirdo-creep.”

Behind them a tiny bell chimed. They both stepped off into the grass as three cyclists speed past. Watching them pedal off into the distance, Joanne suddenly felt like she did as a child walking home from school, when she crossed the railroad yard against her parents wishes, and stopped to gaze down the tracks into the unknown.

“Well,” she said smartly as she turned now to look at Howard. “I never said you weren’t weird.”

She could feel his face pull forward, as if by some invisible force. She would have let him kiss her right there, would have been perfectly fine with it.

“I’m really glad you decided to show up,” he said.

“Me too.”

“You up for a walk?” He motioned down the path, where far off into the distance it turned around a bend.

“Yeah, let’s do it.”

III.

It’s now close to 8:30 and dinner is over. The bench, held up by two hinges screwed into the roof of the porch, gently rocks back and forth under the momentum of the two bodies occupying it. Joanne is sitting back and Howard is lying down, his head resting in her lap. She has one arm fully extended, felled lazily over the back of the bench, and the other positioned over his scalp, her fingers gently running through his long hair.

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The sound of cheering echoed off the walls and ceiling as the two young men climbed into the makeshift ring. When it was first set up, it had rows of chairs placed around it but they had been cleared out for standing room only in the crowded frat house living room.

Although the byrules clearly stated only fraternity members could watch, word had spread and almost half the crowd was made up of young women eager to see two toned men stripped down to their underwear in a wrestling match.

“Ok, you know the rules,” said the ref, a stocky blonde haired jock wearing a navy blue blazer over a plain white tee shirt and jeans. “Only one of you will become a Phi Beta Zee member: The winner of this match.”

Frank and Paul nodded as they looked at each other with nervous energy, ready to get started.

“The match will be scored by Olympic wrestling standards,” continued the ref. “You can play dirty, but nothing that will cause permanent damage or scarring. That means no eye gauges or biting, no fingerlocks or WWE throws, and definitely no groin attacks. We want our future member to be able to sire children.”

Both contestants laughed, but because there was no microphone in the loud, crowded room, few others could hear.

“Alright, let’s see a good match!” said the ref, backing up.

The two pledge candidates circled as the cheering and shouted comments grew even louder. Paul was the taller of the two, and sported a lean, toned frame with very little body hair. His dick printed nicely through his briefs, tucked sideways with the plump head visible past the crease of his thigh and his balls pushed out two nice half-domes in the white cotton beneath it. The fact that his underwear was well stuffed with man meat was not lost on the ladies in the crowd who pointed and covered their mouths with guilty excitement.

Frank was slightly shorter, but also more muscled with an impressive set of pecs bulging above chiseled abs. His physique was more impressive than Paul’s, which offset a smaller showing in his briefs where his organs were most likely pulled up tight from adrenaline. There were many eyes both male and female watching his ass cheeks move and flex in his tight underwear as he circled with Paul.

Frank shot a fast double leg immediately and nearly took Paul to the mat, but Paul sprawled his legs and braced against Frank, remaining on his feet with Frank’s arms wrapped around his thighs, head low near Paul’s meat packed crotch. Paul worked his urfa escort arm down and under Frank’s chin, trying to secure a guillotine but Frank slipped out and released.

They circled for a moment, and Frank feinted a few times before ducking low and attempting the same take-down. Paul managed to brace against it again, and they remained locked up longer as Frank pushed forward, Paul stumbling to remain on his feet. Frank’s head is firmly against Paul’s abdomen, his nose practically touching

Paul’s package as he strained, and the volume of the cheering voices went even higher. This time when Frank finally separated, Paul charged forward, catching Frank as he was backing up, scoring a takedown.

As they fell, Frank twisted his body and ended up landing on top. Paul was already rotating beneath him, and before Frank could get a good hold on him, Paul made an escape.

More cheering, this time predominantly by the men in the room who had more appreciation for the skills on display, and the room filled with clapping. Some of the boys were yelling out: “Beefcakes!” which at first some of the girls thought was meant for Frank’s muscled body. But it turned out their shouts were meant for Paul, and ‘Beefcakes’ was a reference to his sizeable wedding tackle.

They circled once again, both of them slightly winded now. Paul shot and Frank braced as they locked up, but Paul tugged Frank forward instead, unbalancing him enough to take him down. Frank twisted and rotated, but Paul was maintaining control, trying to lock in a hold.

It was quickly evident that Paul was the superior wrestler, and Frank was only able to defend as Paul pursued different attacks. As Paul rose to his knees to transition to Frank’s back, Frank lunged forward and with both hands grabbed the waistband of Paul’s briefs and yanked down just as Paul was springing forward.

Paul’s hands shot down to try to keep from being pantsed, but it was too late: his meaty organs came flopping into view, much to the pleasure of the crowd that pushed and shoved to get a better view of the goodies. The two of them played tug-of-war with Paul’s underwear as Frank tried to get them further down his legs. As soon as it became evident he wasn’t going to get his briefs back up, Paul quickly went for Frank’s underwear, yanking them down to reveal his white ass cheeks. Rather than defend, Frank continued pulling Paul’s briefs off completely, and in seconds both of them were sivas escort stripped naked, underwear tossed off to the side.

They stood with smiles, and the judge laughed but did not intervene. Instead, he motioned for them to continue. As Frank and Paul circled, the crowd was treated to a moving display of crotches and asses. Even the contestant’s eyes darted down a few times to catch glimpses of each other’s sex equipment. The overheating of their fatigued, sweaty bodies had their ballsacks hanging low and swinging at the slightest movement. Beneath a neatly trimmed patch of dark pubic hair, Paul’s circumcised cock draped down over his balls like a flesh colored rope, swinging with them back and forth. Frank’s crotch was fully shaved, as were his balls which were in full view thanks to a retracted cock. He was a grower, not a shower.

Both their bodies were beautiful specimens of human anatomy, and the contrast of their tanned upper bodies and legs made the nudity of their white asses and crotches that much more pronounced. The admiring eyes in the crowd were not limited to only the women. Whether they were cheering, laughing, or staring with lust, most now had their eyes at waist level.

Paul made the first move, coming in high as they locked up. After a few tugs to get Frank resisting in one direction, Paul maneuvered under his arms and dropped to his knees, twisting sideways to a fireman’s lift, and brought Frank down neatly to the mat. Frank’s gonads bounced as he landed on his back, and Paul quickly spun to get side control.

Frank tried to roll away, and Paul quickly got Frank’s back, twisting one of his arms behind him to keep him from being able to roll out. Without underwear, Paul’s dick was hanging down between Frank’s legs, the tip resting against the other boy’s balls. This detail was not missed by the portion of the crowd that had that view, and there was much catcalling, hooting and cheering.

The ref nodded and moved forward to separate them for a reset, but nobody could hear what he was saying about the score so far. Nor did anyone care. They came for a show, and they were getting more than they even expected.

When they closed again, Frank appeared to stumble from one of Paul’s tugs, dropping to his knees. To the audience, it looked like a prelude to an oral sex act and the roar in the room reached its loudest peak yet, with some women retreating back to safety as several guys pushed forward for a tekirdağ escort better view. As soon as he hit his knees, Frank grabbed Paul’s leg, tugging it forward as he placed his head to the outside and shouldered into Paul’s hip, driving him down to the mat. Maintaining his leg hold, Frank elevated his hips as he pressed his shoulder down into Paul’s midsection to keep him pinned, giving half the crowd a lewd view of his bent-over backside.

Paul tried to catch Frank in a headlock, forcing Frank to move his head to the inside, at which point Paul thrust his hips upwards to unbalance his opponent. Frank almost toppled, but maintained his balance, and Paul thrust again. To the entire crowd, it looked like Paul was face-fucking Frank, which of course riled the crowd again.

Rather than be toppled, Frank backed up, giving Paul enough room to sit up and pitch forward, slipping to the outside while shooting a hand up between Frank’s legs from behind just to the left of his hanging ballsack. Before Frank knew what was happening, Paul tugged Frank’s naked ass back towards him into a single barrel roll, ending up on top with Frank pinned on his back, leg folded in over him. Frank struggled to get free, but Paul had all his weight on top of him, and Frank had no leverage with his body bent almost in half on top of him. All he could do was stare up at his own cock and balls flopping as he strained and jerked to escape.

The ref broke them up and rose Paul’s arm as the winner, and Paul’s whole face turned into a mask of ferocity as she screamed in victory. His face wasn’t the only part of him that had transformed. His long hose of a dick was now sticking straight out in a partial erection as the endorphins coursed through his bloodstream. The semi would have been noticeable even in a singlet or in his underwear, but naked it was beyond lewd as he strode around proudly with his member swaying stiffly before him. He was fully aware, and at this point he was enjoying the attention it was getting as girls blushed, prodded each other, or stared boldly.

“BEEFCAKES! BEEFCAKES! BEEFCAKES!” the crowd began shouting, and Paul pointed down with both fingers at his own erection, smiling and looking at different women.

For his part, Frank was a good sport, and made his way out of the ring with a sheepish smile. He had lost, but he’d put up a very good fight against a more experienced opponent. In that, he’d won respect, and possibly some dates as he noticed quite a few women making eye contact with him. When he walked to pick up his briefs, a few women and even men patted his bare ass as he passed them by.

Frank would go on to join a rival fraternity, and later that semester would look for a chance at a rematch. But that’s a story for the sequel.

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Editor’s note: this story contains scenes of incest or incest content.

*****

Heart pounding I am finally standing naked in front of my wife wearing only a cock cage. “What the fuck is that” she looks at me in disbelief. “A cock cage; it’s a CB-6000.” I reply as bravely as I can.

“Okay…why the fuck are you wearing it?” Well, the thing is I kind of masturbate a lot and I was hoping this could… “Define a lot.”

“At least 5 times a day.”

“What! You cannot be serious! We have sex 3 times a week, how is that even possible?”

“I really don’t know why, Mel. I’m just always horny and can’t stop myself!”

Her reaction was hard to gauge. “So that’s your solution? It seems barbaric and weird…your balls…look sore…that can’t be comfortable.”

“It surprisingly is. I’m not in any pain at all.”

“So what? This just seems stupid.”

“Well… I have the keys here and thought maybe you could hold them and let me out when you think I deserve it.”

“Are you serious? You just said you cum 5 times a day God knows how long it’s been going on.”

“I just was hoping.”

“Just…just get dressed and go to work.”

“Do you want the keys?”

“No I don’t! I’m not into this, take the keys leave the keys do as you please! I’m going Pilates and meeting my sister after.”

“Okay I’ll just leave them here for now.”

Crushed, I got dressed and made my way to work. I don’t know what I expected. Actually, I do; thought she’d get hot by the idea and boy was I wrong…but I had to tell her…didn’t I? I can’t explain it, but I know I need my cock in the cage. I just don’t feel complete without it.

Work was a drag and I was not looking forward to going home. I hope Mel wasn’t still pissed. Maybe I can learn to live without the cage. Fuck this annoying, I wish I had brought the key.

As I got home putting the key in the door I hear laughing, guess Mel’s sister Steph is still here.

“Hey Sammy.” Steph shouts.

“Hey how’s it going?” I shout back.

“We’re drunk.” Mel replies.

“I can see that, how was Pilates?”

“We didn’t go.” Steph says. “Mel said she needed to get hammered and have girl talk.”

HOLY FUCK. My blood is cold. Did she tell Steph? What the fuck? OMG, I’m trembling. “Anything I should know about?” I manage to get out without my voice giving anything away with my heart pounding in my chest.

“Nope.” Replies Steph necking her glass. “When I got here, Mel said she was over it. So we just got drunk instead.”

I finally felt like I could breathe again.

“Okay, I’m off. Bye, Mel. Later, Sammy.”

“Bye, Steph.” I sigh. Mel just gives a little salute to her sister as she leaves.

I grab a beer from the fridge, pop the top, and Mel starts to talk.

“Sooo…your, um, fetish.”

“Someone’s been on Google.” I interject.

“Do you want to hear me out or not.” she snaps.

“Sorry, go on.” I say slightly taken aback.

“Your fetish…kink, whatever. It’s an itch and you need to scratch it. I think the idea is novel to you and truly believe you’ll hate it, but I guess we have to get it out of your system.”

“Okay… so what you thinking?” I reply trying not to jump for joy.

She pours another drink. “Yes I Googled it, and they actually have a guideline…rulebook…commandments whatever you want to call it, on how ‘a keyholder’ should begin. It says to start with a few hours, then a day, releasing at night, and then work your way up to a week.”

I interrupt happily. “Yeah, hun, sounds good to me.”

“STOP.” She cuts me off. “We’re not doing that.” She gets up. Walks over to the cupboard and grabs her manicure set. She knows I hate it when she does her nails, while talking to me… she’s punishing me.

“Do you have the keys?” “No, I left them on the dresser.” I respond. “Okay well, they’re gone!”

“Gone? Gone where? Did you throw them out? Or…”

“Will you shut up!” Mel roars at me.

“Sorry.” I murmur.

“Urgh, I read men start to beg to get out, so I got rid of them!”

“Okay, but why?”

She cuts me off again. “It’s only a padlock, Sam. So we can cut it off if you decide you’ve had enough.” She starts to file her nails. Not even looking at me she starts. “I don’t like this! I don’t want this! So let’s cure you of it. You can stay locked up for 30 days!”

“30 DAYS ISN’T THAT A BIT MUCH?” I plead, shellshocked.

“FOR FUCK’S SAKE, SAM! I don’t want to do this! So you can wait 30 days or cut the lock off and be done with it!”

“Okay, sorry I guess this is a bit much for you”.

“Yeah, it is! Also, don’t think I’m going to have you as my sex slave. I’m not dripping at denying you and it’s pissing me off I don’t get none either.”

“Well I still could, you know we have toys.”

“Nope, I’m good! I’ll see to myself.”

“Okay, Mel, I appreciate you giving it a go at least.” I say trying to give a smile.

“Health-wise, you’re suppose to cum once a week. Since your cage rize escort isn’t coming off, we can get the strapon you were always too scared for me to have, and once a week you can cum that way.”

“I guess I don’t really have a choice.” I shrug.

“Yes you do. Take it off, or take it in your ass! That’s your choice.”

“Yes, sorry, Mel.”

“That’s it. I’m drunk, I’m going to bed.” She says angrily, as she slams her nail file down and storms out the kitchen, and up the stairs.

I stay up drinking, thinking to myself. Not what I was expecting, but not a complete rejection. Maybe she’ll come around…but 30 days though. That’s a long time. Fuck it. You can’t have your cake and eat it too. I say to myself as I open another beer.

I wake up the in the morning. I must have passed out in my chair. Mel was gone, no note, and my phone was dead. I put it on charge, and had a shower.

In the shower taking extra time to clean my cage. I was thinking about Mel’s decision. Is she right? Is this just a impulsive fantasy? Will 30 days locked be too much? Will it put me right off? What if I cum in the cage? What if it feels better through the cage than normally?

FUCK. I was getting hard, but it’s not as painful as I’ve read, it feels good. The cage is fitted, I’m slightly bigger than average. I did have to force my fella in. But it does feel good getting hard with it on.

It’s would push at the cage trying to escape, then retreat and attack immediately. Like a battering ram hitting a door over and over. I find extremely pleasurable. 30 days…that’ll be easy. I’m already one day down anyways.

Getting dressed, I check my phone. Mel had sent a message.

-saw you asleep didn’t want to wake you, didn’t know when you passed out. My mom’s stopping by later she has some stuff to drop off leave it in the kitchen I’ll put it away later Mel xXx-

Well, at least she doesn’t seem to be pissed off anymore. Better get the coffee on. My mother-in-law, Cassie, always makes herself at home. We have a good relationship to be fair. Just really want to talk to Mel, and not entertain.

There goes the doorbell, Cassie’s here. “You alright there Sammy? The boxes are in the trunk. Is the coffee on?”

“Yeah, Cassie help yourself. I won’t be a minute.” As I bring the boxes in Cassie has made two coffees. “So, Sammy how are you holding up?”

“I’m okay, Cassie. No complaints, you know me.”

“That’s good, cage not too tight then?” My body recoils. My heart stops. I can feel as the blood drains from my face. No way, nope, can’t be, must have misheard. My heart starts to beat again, now trying to pound its way out of my chest. I look at Cassie, just sitting there, dead still and stone faced. No way someone is that relaxed after just slipping that comment in there. I take a gulp.

“Sorry, Cassie. What was that?” I try not splutter, while simultaneously doing my best not to let my heavy breathing and heart palpitations become obvious.

“Sorry, Sammy. I was just saying how’s the cage on your cock feeling?” She nods toward my groin.

My heart has stopped again. I’ve flat lined. I know it. Please just die now. I didn’t need the cage anymore, my cock and balls felt like they’ve shrivelled up into my stomach. I must have looked like a deer in headlights. I just stood there, mouth so dry. I couldn’t talk if I wanted too. It seemed like hours I was froze there, but was certainly just seconds.

Cassie just starts to speak “I only ask as Mel said she thought your balls looked quite…shall we say, snug? And possibly…a little too tight?” She takes a sip of coffee watching me. “But I told her better snug than too loose. You don’t want the balls getting caught or yanked every time he moves!”

I’d finally began breathing again, and couldn’t believe how much Cassie knew.

“Oh and she said you went for a black one. I said oh that’s a nice touch.” She says with a wink.”

I’m dead, I must be. I’m completely paralyzed and can’t feel a thing, completely numb.

“Sammy? What’s wrong?” She looks at me puzzled.

She cannot be serious. This is mental, I feel sick. I just want to collapse and die!

“Sammy, I’ve known you for almost 15 years! Not once have you ever been embarrassed with me! Well? Are you going to say something?” She says matter of factly.

I’m still paralysed with fear. Unable to move or speak.

“Your coffee will be cold.” She nods towards my cup. Still reeling, I pick my cup and drink it in one. “I don’t know what to say, Cassie.” In barly a whisper.

“Sammy. You know me sweetheart live and let live I say. Nothing to be ashamed of my love.”

“Did Mel tell Steph?” I ask in my downward spiral.

“Relax, Sammy. Just me. She wanted advice and called me first.”

“Okay. Cool.” Now trying to find my bearings, and hopefully take control of the situation. I sit down at the kitchen table, feeling broken and betrayed.

“Sammy” Cassie starts. “This is never going to work for you, if you’re sakarya escort crippled by it. I’m not saying shout it from the tree tops mind you, but be proud, don’t be ashamed. YOLO, remember, isn’t that what your always saying.”

“Yeah I guess so, Cassie, you just caught me off guard is all.”

“That’s better.” Cassie smiles. “You’re beginning to look like yourself again.” She winks.

“Thanks still feel awkward though.”

“Don’t be. I just wanted to rip the band aid off one time. Should’ve had better tact”

“It’s cool, Cassie. But I’m going to have a whiskey now.”

“Better make it a double. I want you comfortable!”

“Comfortable?” I reply pouring myself a drink.

“Well obviously, I want to see it, Sammy.”

I knock back the whiskey and pour another. “Cassie…I err…I really don’t think that’s appropriate.”

She grabs my drink takes a swig. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

My head now spinning. “Well for starters…I’m…um, your son in law.”

Cassie puts her finger too my lips. “Tut tut, if I wasn’t allowed to see…why would I have the key?” Cassie pulls down her shirt and in between her breasts, above her bra is a silver chain with a key on it.

I’m dumbfounded. I just sitting there mouth wide open, looking at the key snuggling in between Cassie’s beautiful black breasts. I’d never found her attractive. She’s pretty. She stands 5’7, over-weight, but has huge tits. There is no way she’s sexy by any stretch of the imagination. But my cock…my cock has now come back to life, and the cage is bouncing. My cock wants to be free, and she has the key.

“You seem flustered?”

“I am.” I gulp.

“Good.” She smiles as she pours herself a whiskey. “Look, Sammy. You’re young and in need of attention. I have a key, so how about you run upstairs and I’ll be up in a minute.”

“Cassie, I really don’t think we should do this.” I plead.

“I wasn’t asking. Now get upstairs!”

I turn from Cassie and start to make my way upstairs.

As I enter the bedroom, I sit on the edge of the bed confused. I’m a little excited and a little sick to be honest. I hear Cassie making her way up the stairs. My head is hanging I really don’t know what to do. This can’t be happening.

“Naughty boy.” Cassie purrs. “Why are you still dressed?” As I look up Cassie is in her underwear black and white silky bra and French knickers. She’s also holding a brown leather bag. I hadn’t noticed it before. “Sammy.” She shouts. I flinch, I look into her eyes, she’s glaring at me now. “Drop your trousers. Show me the cage.” Her tone is soft but firm.

My mind is racing. I’m still unsure, but Mel gave her mom the key, so maybe this has been arranged. I drop my jogging bottoms and stand in front of Cassie.

“Oh look at that…nice and shiny…and black. I always felt bad that Mel married a white guy.”

Those words cut me. Now I truly feel pathetic.

“Is the choice in color, down to an inferiority complex?”

“Um…no.” I whisper. “It was just the most popular brand.” I’m starting to feel inferior now I thought to myself.

“Well black is better! Now come over here and help me with my knickers.”

As I start to stand. “CRAWL!” she barks. I drop to my knees and start to crawl. I’m on all fours, feeling humiliated.

“Look at that.” She laughs. “You’re leaving a snail’s trail.”

My head drops, I look at my cage. Precum is leaking relentlessly from my cage. I feel my dick start to shrink in my cage again. My whole body is starting to tremble, what am I doing? But it’s to late. I’m already at Cassie’s feet. I look up at her, fear in my eyes,”Cassie…” I start to plead. “Please we shouldn’t be doing this.”

She squints, tilts her head and rolls her eyes. She moves past me, straight to her brown bag, reaches in a side pocket and pulls out her phone. She marches back to me, hands me the phone. “Read!” she barks. It was a message from Mel.

-That’s up to you mom, if you can get him to agree, I say do it. It benefits both of you at the end of the day, his mad if he doesn’t go for it at the end of the day-

My mouth drops. I look up at Cassie, she snatches the phone from me and puts it back in her bag. I’m light headed, so dizzy. What did Mel mean? It benefits us both? I know she didn’t like the idea of the cage, but sending her mom to deal with me is excessive. I didn’t have time to think, Cassie is back in front of me. I’m on my knees, and my cage is leaving a puddle on the carpet. My nuts are now throbbing. I need to cum.

“Sammy, pull down my knickers, and eat my CUNT.” I flinch at the word. I’ve never heard Cassie talk that way before.

I reach up and start to pull down her knickers. She has a massive wet patch. I can smell her as they come down. Her pussy is creamy, she’s dripping as much as my cage is.

As she steps out of her knickers. “EAT!” Is all she says sternly. I lean in, my nose touches her clit. “Finally.” She moans. I stick my tongue out and samsun escort start to lick. I recoil, she tastes salty, not what I was expecting. “For fuck’s sake!” She barks. Before I could even start again she grabs me by the hair walks her pussy into my face and drops all her weight onto me. I collapse onto the floor unable to breathe. Being smothered by her fat, juicy, salty pussy. She’s riding my face. Bucking back and forth on my face.

“Tongue.” She yells.” I stick my tongue out, she’s rocking even harder now. “Fuck, I’m cumming!” she shrieks.

My mouth is open and this juice starts to flow, almost gushing down my throat. The texture is like eating a raw egg, I’ve never experience anything like this. I swallow as much as I can, but it spills from my mouth and all over my face. She collapses on my head.

As I lay there unable to breathe, her pussy and ass still on my face in full force. I’m about to pass out. I can feel it. I’m light headed, it’s about to go dark. Cassie stands up just in time. I gasp, panting heavily, finally able to breathe again. Cassie just laughs.

“Don’t worry, I’m done with your mouth.” She walks over to her bag and starts to take items out. I’m panting and still a little light headed. Just laying in the middle of the floor.

“Drag that ottoman to the middle of the room” Cassie orders, not even looking at me.

I do as I’m told.

“Good. Now lay over it. Head over one side, cage on the other.”

Again I comply, still weak from almost being suffocated. I couldn’t fight back if I wanted too. I finally see the items, handcuffs, a ball gag, and a lead of some kind.

Cassie cuffs my left wrist to my left ankle, and my right wrist to my right ankle.

“Open.” Is all she says as she shoves a red ball gag in my mouth. Once the gag is fitted she attaches a leash to the gag either side of my head. Its like reigns on a horse. She walks back to her bag, there’s ruffling, clicks and zips but I’m practically hog tied I can’t see.

She walks back over to me and squirts a cold gel all over my ass. I let out a moan and start to twitch “Shush.” Is all she says.

My heart is racing. I know what’s coming and I’m freaking out. I turn my head to look but with the ball gag and the reins my vision is a bit impaired.

“Relax, Sammy.” She purrs as she starts to finger my ass.

My cock is pounding trying to escape the cage. I feel it dripping, her fingers going in and out, is it that 2 fingers I can feel. Fuck I want to cum. Please cock cum. I start to buck now.

“Easy, pet, this is just the warm up. I’ve got a nice purple dick for you to start with.”

Holy shit! Cassie is going to fuck me in the ass. I scream in my head.

“We have to work you up to my black one.”

Oh fuck, how many does she have? What’s going to happen to my ass? I can feel sweat, pouring down my face. I’m petrified but her fingers feel so good in my ass.

“That’s 3 fingers now. Your ready for my dick, Sammy.”

I start to plead, but it’s futile, the gag makes it garbled. Fuck what if she thinks I’m asking for the black one? Please purple. I want purple. What the fuck is wrong with me? I’m praying for a purple dick in me.

I could hear her squirting more gel. Not on me, on purple dick now. Please, lots of lube I shout in my head.

“Ready or not, here I come!” Cassie teases. The tip is touching my anus. “Inch by inch or in one?” She asks. I stay silent. “Lady’s choice it is then.” And in one go, she’s balls deep in me. I start to scream, the gag muffles it. My body is spasming but I can’t move. I’m just rocking around on the ottoman.

She’s grinding her hips in my ass and grabs the reign and starts yanking “Oh you like that, don’t you?”

Ashamedly I do. I just let out a whimper.

She starts to slide in and out of me. I don’t know if it’s being locked the cage. But it felt good, it felt right. The cage I shout in my head. I forgot about the cage, my cock has been straining so long it’s numb, I can’t feel anything anymore, only Cassie’s cock penetrating me.

“How did my cunt taste?” She grunts, slowly fucking my ass.

“Oh yeah, you can’t talk.” She laughs, keeping a slow and steady rhythm.

“It’s actually better this way, I’ve got a lot I want to tell you anyways.”

What more is there to say at this point? I think to myself. Maybe about the benefit Mel mentioned in the text.

“So I have a little confession to make. This morning when I was getting ready, as I put this lingerie on for you. Which is new by the way! I wanted to make a good impression after all. Well Henry came into the bathroom and well he got so excited he bent me over the sink, pulled my panties to the side and ploughed my cunt.”

She starts to fuck me even faster. I feel like I’m drifting in and out of conciseness. What is she talking about? And fuck this dildo feels good.

“Honestly it was never my intention, but as he was cumming in me…I came so hard thinking about you eating it out of me.”

I want to throw up. I’m going to be sick. The gag, this fucking gag is preventing me. She made me eat Henry’s cum. Who the fuck who does something like that? I start to go wild. I’m going to break out of these cuffs, and beat her ass I try to convince myself. As I try to break free, Cassie starts spanking my ass.

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As Her laughter fades down the hallway, Her dog Titan barks twice. A quick ruff ruff. i think he is confused by his freedom, as i lay locked in his crate. i can hear him walking around, but am unable see him. i am blindfolded with my hands cuffed behind my back. The only clothes i have on are a pair of soft pink panties. My tiny little dick is locked in chastity, already straining to try to get hard even though there is nothing happening to tease it. Just being locked in this cage is turning me on. Princess is going out for a night drinking and clubbing with her friends. She has my credit card and is putting all of the drinks for the evening on it. She told me she would tell her friends that the pathetic little piggy paying for their drinks all night was locked in a dog crate in chastity. i want her friends laughing at me too. i always enjoy making women laugh, it just seems the best way to do so is to utterly humiliate and degrade myself in front of them.

The last thing i saw before i was cuffed and blindfolded were Her beautiful feet sliding into Her open toe black high heel pumps. i had bought them for Her a month or so ago, but this was Her first time wearing them out. As my reward for purchasing them for Her, She had trampled me and crushed my cock with them the day She got them, but had yet to wear them since. They were incredibly sexy shoes. They were not as fancy as some of the others in Her collection, but were simple, classic and sexy as hell.

The plan was that She would walk around dirty night clubs all night, running up the bill on my card and my reward would be licking Her shoes clean when She returned. There was also the understanding by both of us that She might bring a guy back to fuck. She was a beautiful woman going out drinking and it had been days since She had gotten some nice hard cock. It did not seem too far fetched that she would be able to attract a willing alpha male.

One pleasant surprise for me was that after i was blindfolded and lead into the cage, i heard my Princess piss into a dog bowl and place it in the cage with me.

“In case You get thirsty piggy,” She giggled as She set the bowl in the cage. She then removed the leash from my collar, closed the door and locked it. The aroma of Her fresh piss was intoxicating. i crawled over and quickly lapped some up. It was warm and pungent and quite delicious. Not as special as drinking directly from the tap as i had on a few very fortunate occasions, but still a delectable treat.

“Don’t go overboard piggy. If you relieve yourself in the cage You will have to sleep in it all night. Maybe I will let you out to pee when i get back.”

“Yes Princess,” i replied.

“Hmmm doggies don’t talk. Bark for me bitch.”

“Ruff ruff’ i whined.

She laughed. “You can do better than that doggie. Bark like You are going to miss your Princess.”

i barked the best i could. Titus joined in, easily overriding my weak sissy ruffs with a loud masculine bark.

“At least I have one good doggie,” she cooed. i heard Her petting him lovingly as he yipped quietly in approval.

i have very little concept of time as i sit in the cold dark cage. i try to lap up some piss at consistent intervals, but the timing probably fluctuates greatly. The only real proof that time is passing at all is that Her piss is growing colder. Cold, stale piss is far more acrid and harder to get down, but i remain confident i will finish the bowl before She returns.

Sensory deprivation is new to me. i can still hear, though there is not much to pick up on. Titan wrestles around on occasion, the AC and refrigerator hum. There are no noises from outside. No talking. No television. My thoughts begin to drift into darkness. The idea of being locked in a cage while Princess is out having fun was a hot one. i had never been caged for an extended period of time before. It seemed like an appropriate sacrifice. Princess leaving me a bowl of piss to lap up is definitely a treat. i am not allowed the privilege of tasting Her essence nearly as often as i would like. She wants me to enjoy suffering for Her, not just suffer for the sake of suffering. i trust Her motives. But it is so dark. And my knees hurt. i am horny but my cock has long stopped straining against its prison. It hangs limp and tiny and lifeless. How nature intended for a beta male like myself. I try to imagine what Princess is up to. Drinking, laughing, dancing, flirting. It is so difficult to not even be able to text her my desperate thoughts. Or receive teasing messages from her.

She has probably encountered multiple guys She would be interested in fucking. She would never fuck me. She controls my finances, my social life, my orgasms, sometimes even what i eat. But some random guy at a club may get the chance to penetrate Her perfect pussy. It seems so unfair. i sacrifice everything i can for Her. My reward is being locked in a cage. i shake my head back and forth tying to rid it of these self pitying thoughts. i slurp up some room temperature pee. It helps. This was my gift. kuşadası escort This is where i belong. i wouldn’t even like the club. The music would be all loud and terrible. They would have an awful beer selection. i would be distracted by other hot women. i don’t want other hot women. i want Princess. i crave and relish Her control. And She values me to some extent. She may fuck some guy at the club, but She talks to me more. She helps me plan when to pay my bills and how much to pay. That’s special. i breath out deeply, relieved and calm. i lay down on my side to take some of the pressure off my knees. There is just enough room to lay this way in moderate comfort. i drift away. Not necessarily to sleep, but in a trance. My mind grows clear and content.

My trance is broken when i hear the dog bark. At first i am annoyed at having my tranquility shattered. But as i strain my ears, i hear the click of approaching heels. Then the sound of a key scraping the lock. My Princess has returned! A sharp pain immediately radiates from my cock cage as my neglected member presses stubbornly against the metal walls of its confinement.

“Hey Titan!! Did you miss your Mommy??” She coos in Her loving dog voice. King Titan whimpers and barks excitedly as i hear Her pet him. i get myself upright and crawl to the front of the cage. i am so excited. i hear myself panting and feel my tongue hanging out. She walks into the kitchen and i hear the clang of dog food tumbling down into the metal bowl. Titan begins chewing eagerly.

“And how is my little piggy?” my Princess asks, finally acknowledging me.

A thousand responses rush through my head. Horny! Pathetic! i miss You! But she called me piggy. i am feeling animalistic. i oink eagerly in response.

She giggles. “Good piggy. Oink for Your Owner.”

“Oink oink oink.” i add in some snorts. i feel so low in stature but so happy and at home in my depravity.

“Mmmm. Your Princess had a good time out piggy. She spent quite a bit of your money. How does that make you feel? You can answer in words this time loser.”

“i am so grateful You allowed me to fund Your night out Princess. Thank You for giving my work purpose.”

“Awwww you are welcome bitch boy. It is an honor to buy Me and My friends drinks isn’t it?”

“Yes Princess. It is an absolute honor.”

“And we did go to some kinda dirty clubs. I made sure to walk through the bathroom in all of them. My new shoes did get a little dirty. Would you like to see?”

“Yes, Princess!” I squeal in excitement. i feel her hands reach into the cage and untie my blindfold. i blink back the blindness from the sudden rush of light to my pupils and stare downward. Goddess lifts her shoes up one by one to show me the bottoms. They are kind of dirty. There are all kinds of different shades of smudges and one has a tiny little piece of white stuck to it. Probably toilet paper.

“What do you think loser? Are my shoes still sexy?”

“Yes Princess.”

“Well I do think they need to be cleaned. And I think you have been a good enough piggy tonight to do so with your disgusting tongue.”

“Thank You Princess,” i whimper graciously.

She confidently undoes the lock from the cage, opens the door and saunters sexily over to the couch. i can tell She has had some drinks, but She just oozes class and sexuality. There is nothing sloppy about Her gait. She plops down on the couch with a satisfied sigh. i scurry over on my hands and knees. She lifts up Her left foot without a word. i support it with my hands the best i can, stick my tongue out and get to work. i start with the heel. It is not a stiletto and has a small rectangular base. i lick it gingerly. It tastes like clean, unworn shoe. Not a speck of dirt. i lick a few times and then begin to gently suck the tip of the heel. i glance up at Her, seeking approval or encouragement. She is engrossed in Her phone and paying me no attention. i take the heel a little deeper down my throat, licking and swirling my tongue around it the entire time. After a few seconds i feel her hand pressing on the back of my head. She wants me to deep throat it. i push my face down on the entire heel and feel it stab the back of my throat. i hold it without gagging until i feel Her hand let up.

“Mmmm hmmmm,” she moans. Pleased, but still acting disinterested. i catch my breath and wait to see if She will guide me further with Her hand or words. She does neither. i begin to lick the base of the shoe. Now i start to taste some dirt and grime. There are a few specs of actual dirt that transfer from my tongue to the roof of my mouth. i stop licking for long enough to swallow them down and then continue to cover every inch of the bottom of Her shoe with my eager saliva. It begins to taste different as the dirt leaves the shoe and fills my mouth and throat. Once the main bottom of the shoe begins to taste like just shoe, similar to the heel, i repeat the process on the arch. The angle of my licking becomes difficult from my knees, kocaeli escort so i drop down onto my back. Without looking up or saying a word, Princess notices my switch and calmly moves the heel over my face so i have the prefect angle to access the arch with my tongue. The heel presses down on my forehead , the front of the shoe on my chin. i am in heaven.

i lose track of time licking the arch of Her left shoe. This is inherently my place in life. Laying on my back while the dirt from Her shoes is rubbed across my tongue and face. Eventually She slides Her foot up slightly and lowers Her heel down my throat. i accept it graciously. i suck for all that i am worth, making love to Her heel with my mouth. Eagerly lifting and lowering my head in time as i suck from top to bottom. At one point i have the entire heel down my throat. i hold it as long as i can, suppressing the urge to gag. As i eventually pull away i inevitably cough and spew spittle all over her previously licked clean heel.

She chuckles from up above me, quickly glances down to survey the damage, and goes right back to her phone. “Silly little bitch. Lick up your spit now,” She commands me. i eagerly do so with long purposeful licks. Soon the heel is as clean as it was before. She looks down again. Without a word, She moves Her left foot away and lifts the other one. i quickly rise to my knees and scurry over a few inches, taking the new project in my hands. i see the piece of paper sticking to the main bottom. i start there. i lick several times with all the force i can muster before the small salty square of white comes loose into my mouth. i quickly gulp it down and continue licking. The remainder of this shoe also tastes dirtier than the last. i can almost feel my tongue growing darker from the dirt and grime that is lifted from the groves of the shoe and sticking to my tongue. i try to imagine how dirty all the floors were at the clubs. So many different people walking around, sloshing drinks all over.

A slow ache begins to build up in my caged cock. i pull back and look at the areas i have been caressing with my dirty tongue. It actually does look much cleaner. i am doing my job. Pride begins to swell in my stomach as i move down toward the heel. i lick and suck and kiss up and down all over again, this time successfully deep throating it without covering it with my spit. Once the heel appears clean, i lay on my back once more. Princess perceptively places Her heel on my forehead again but presses down a little bit harder. i gasp a bit, attempting to emit as little noise as possible as i go about licking the arch clean. i am so deep in sub space that my simplistic piggy mind is nearly empty. Just lick lick lick swallow, lick lick lick swallow.

“That’s enough piggy,” Princess informs me, breaking me slightly out of my trace. She pulls Her shoe away. “I was very generous to let you lick my shoes that long wasn’t I?”

“Yes Princess,” i nod excitedly. “Very generous. Thank You so much.”

“Mmm hmmm. Now remove my shoes and start rubbing my feet. They have been cooped up in these shoes all night.” She sets Her phone down and reaches for the remote. She clicks the TV on and proceeds to ignore me again. i return to the left foot and with as much grace and precision as i can muster, unbuckle Her shoe and slide it off. The instructions were to rub, but as soon as the shoe is off She presses it firmly against my nose. i leave my hands by my sides and inhale as deeply as possible. A little sweaty, but not after gym dirty. Still quite the treat. She presses harder and i lean forward, pressing my face in as much as possible. Her heel now covers my mouth and i can’t breathe. i press and press as if my face will become one with Her foot if i try hard enough. Eventually she pulls back and i gasp for air. She holds Her foot expectantly in the air, still staring at the TV as if am i not there. i barely register the sounds coming from the TV. The gorgeous dark brown size 8 foot in front of my face is my entire world. i grab it with both hands and begin to vigorously rub the arch with each thumb.

“Gentler bitch,” comes the heavenly voice from above. i lessen my energy slightly and begin to gently rub up and down with my thumbs. Then i move up to gently caress each toe with my thumb and index finger. My nose is not in contact with any part of Her, but i continue to inhale deeply and take in as much of the aroma as i can. i already want to start licking, but She will decide when to move from hand to tongue. After rubbing each toe twice, i slide down to the heel. Being the least sensitive part, i can use a little more pressure on the heel, alternating thumbs as i had on the arch.

“Mmmm good bitch,” i hear Her morn softly. My heart pounds in my chest. Princess is not one to toss compliments around or stoke my ego. Just being allowed in Her service is a compliment in Her eyes. And of course i agree with that sentiment. But hearing Her moan ‘good bitch’ while she tries to relax and ignore me is about as good as life gets konya escort for me. i continue rubbing the heel with similar force for a few minutes before going back to the arch and repeating the whole process. When i finish the heel the second time, She lowers Her foot and raises the other. No licking yet. i hasten to remove the other shoe.

i repeat the same process with the second foot. Rub up and down the arch, rub each toe twice, rub the heel for a few minutes. Repeat. i can little specs of skin rubbing off as i massage. i want to lick them so badly. i long to swallow every discarded piece of my Princess’s perfect body. But there have still been no instructions to lick. i continue to rub and sneak a glance up at my Princess. She looks so regal. Just laying on the couch, watching TV, but still dressed up in her sexy club attire. She yawns and glances down at me.

“Aww you don’t look too happy to be rubbing my tired feet piggy. What’s wrong?” she asks playfully.

Uh oh. i know i have no reason to pout. Tonight has been everything i wanted it to be. i should be smiling from ear to ear, lost in submissive bliss. But She has already noticed my look of longing. No point in lying now. “i am very happy to be rubbing Your feet Princess. Touching any part of You is a blessing and a privilege. i am extremely grateful to be in this position. i just want to taste Your feet so badly. i can feel the sweat and grime on them and it makes me want to lick them more and more.”

“hmmm I don’t know piggy. Your treat tonight was licking my shoes. Do you really think you deserve to lick my shoes and my feet? After all i only spent about $250 on Your card tonight for my drinks. Maybe if I had spent $600 I would feel more motivated to give you what you want.”

i cringe a little and feel my cock swell in its cage. $250 really isn’t that bad. i have been drained far worse for my Princess’s pleasure. But the reminder of the financial implications of my position still cause a little shudder of body and cock alike.

“It is always entirely up to You what You think i deserve Princess. i have tried to be a good piggy today and do everything asked of me. But i would not dare suggest that i deserve a reward. Every second spend with You is a reward. It would be wonderful if You wanted my piggy tongue licking Your feet clean but if You do not, i have no choice but to accept that.”

“Very true piggy. It was always about what I want. I am Your owner.” i nod heartily in agreement. “Hmmm your tongue may feel nice on my dirty feet, but after licking my shoes clean, I am not sure your tongue would clean my feet properly. In fact, it might make them dirtier. Here, stick your slutty little tongue out for me piggy.”

i stick my tongue out as far as i can. Princess laughs. “You are such a pathetic little slut. Your tongue is so fucking dirty. There is no way I am letting you put that dirty ass tongue on my feet. I could let you go wash it, but I think you probably want to go to sleep with my shoe dirt on your pathetic tongue.”

i feel shame burning my face, my cheeks instantly redden. i lick the roof of my mouth and do feel some granules rub off. My tongue must actually be visibly dirty. i swallow the dirt from the roof of my mouth. “Yes Princess, it would be a honor to sleep with the dirt from Your shoes on my tongue.”

Princess laughs. “You are one dirty, pathetic bitch. But don’t worry loser. I do have a treat for you. Go lay down with your legs in the cage and your head just sticking out.” i crawl quickly over to the cage and do as i am told. Princess stays on the couch for a few more minutes watching TV, ignoring me. Eventually, she turns the TV off, gets up and walks over where i lay. She stands above my head.

“I have to pee pretty badly after all those drinks tonight. You know I normally like to relieve myself directly into your pathetic mouth so you have no choice but to swallow. But since your mouth is so dirty from my shoes, I do not want it anywhere near this pussy. But since you have been an obedient little piggy today, I will give you some of the piss you crave to wash down all that shoe dirt.” She laughs again. “You’re just going to have to catch it.”

She slides her panties to the side and hikes up her dress. i gaze upon Her heavenly pink hole. It looks so glorious, up a few feet above my head. i belong beneath this heavenly creation. Soon, Her golden nectar begins to cascade from Her perfect hole. i eagerly open my mouth to accept this most treasured gift. After drinking the cold, stale pee while She was out, it is incredible to taste it hot from the source once again. i chug and choke down as much as i can. She doesn’t slow her flow to allow me to catch up, and soon Her precious piss is spilling out of my mouth and onto my chest. i swallow as quickly as i can and open up for more. i can hear Her laughing above me.

“Too much for you bitch?” she questions. She moves back a few inches. i try to scoot back as quickly as i can but i am too late. Her warm stream hits me right between the eyes and drips down my nose. i position my mouth to recapture my warm salty prize. i am getting into rhythm of catching in my mouth and swallowing when this time she moves forward. The warm liquid drenches my chest hair. She moves up further still and expels her piss onto my locked up cock.

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

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

This is the fourth part in a series. It is recommended that you read the whole story in sequence.

It is a long and slow moving tale. It is not the type of story filled with rampant sex, It has a has a slow erotic build. It is based on real events and only the names have been changed to protect the guilty.

*

Tuesday Night Party

Karen and I walked through the camp just as it was growing dark. It was a wonderfully warm evening and Karen had left her sarong behind, but we both carried towels. Karen had tied her hair up nicely and was wearing makeup and black g-string type panties — It was after all, she said, a party. I of course was naked.

Although she had not taken the plunge into full nudity yet, she was more than comfortable with baring her large breasts by now, and tonight she looked even better as the g-string hid nothing of her bum. Her buttocks were very round, very full and for her age they sat incredibly high. As she walked they rolled with each step in a beautifully fluid motion.

“So, Little Brother,” she asked me. “What goes on at a nudist BBQ?”

“I dunno,” I answered. “Same as any other BBQ I guess. Drinks, lots of yakking and some poorly cooked food.”

“As long as they don’t burn your sausage,” she laughed. “But judging from what we have seen of Val and Rod I think it might be a bit more than your average BBQ.”

“What do you mean?”

“Didn’t you notice what they wore today?” she asked. “Val had jewelry on her nipples and Rod was wearing a cock ring!”

“So?”

“So I think they might be swingers or something,” she said.

“Oh, I doubt that,” I said. “Not at their age.”

“Ha, age has nothing to do with it,” she said. “And it stands to reason that a place like this must attract some swingers at least.”

“Possibly,” I stopped and put my hand on her shoulder. “Remember what I said. It still stands. If you are EVER uncomfortable here we can pack up and go.”

“I’m fine,” she smiled. “Really. It’s like Val said; Nudism is about freedom. And I am starting to feel that way. I choose what to show or not show, and what to see and not see. I’m not going to run off like a frightened schoolgirl, I just set my own limits.”

Again I was amazed, and proud of how comfortable she had become with naturism in only two days. We walked on through the twilight, hand in hand.

“Are you and Vicky?” she suddenly asked

“Are we what?”

“Swingers,” she said matter-of-factly.

“Not exactly,” It was not a subject I really wanted to get into. My wife Vicky and I had ‘soft swung’ with good friends on several occasions, but the hard-core orgy scene was definitely not for us.

“What does ‘not exactly’ mean?” Karen laughed

“It means ‘ask me no questions and I’ll tell you no lies'” I replied. “Ask Vicky if you want to know. I’m no squealer.”

We soon found Val and Rod’s cabin. They had rented one slightly larger than ours with a huge deck filled with large outdoor sofas and tables. The deck faced away from the camp with a stunning view of the hills rising beyond the river. Soft lights glowed around the edge of the deck and candles on the tables added a warm glow. Val squealed a hello at the sight of us and raced down the wooden steps to kiss us in greeting. She too had her hair neatly done up and in addition to the rings that circled her nipples she was now wearing a silver belly button stud that had a tiny chain hanging from it.

Rod, standing at the BBQ with a short apron covering his groin, waved his tongs at us. Trev was standing next to him sipping a beer while Karl was helping Deb sort out some salad at the table in the centre of the deck.

I handed over the obligatory bottle of red to Val and we climbed up to the deck.

Deb came forward to kiss us hello. “Excuse the hands,” she said. “Covered in garlic and onion at the moment. Stinky.” She laughed. I was surprised to see that her lovely golden thatch of pubic hair was now totally gone, making her pussy mound look even rounder and softer. I shook hands with Karl and accepted a beer offered by Trev.

Val fussed around Karen, putting a glass of wine in her hand and leading her to a large three-seater sofa.

“C’mon Deb.” She called. “Put your feet up. It’s a barbecue so let the men do all the work.”

Rod had it all in hand so we other three men just stood around him and talked the sort of inconsequential chat that men do at barbecues, with the occasional comment on cooking to show that we were all masters of the tongs when we had to be. Rod had marinated chicken pieces, some exotic sausages, lamb cutlets and scotch fillet steak. All looking and smelling great and all timed to perfection so that all of it could come to the table at the same time.

“No standing on ceremony,” Rod said as we ferried the meat to the table. “Whack it all in the middle and just grab what you fancy.”

We sat around the large table. Karen was on my right and Val on my left. Deb and Trev sat opposite us. At each end of the table sat Rod and Karl – Rod closest van escort to Karen and Karl at Val’s corner. I wondered if they had arranged it that way to keep Karl away from my sister?

The meal was a huge success. We ate slowly and the conversation flowed around the table. Trev had a fund of funny stories to tell and we were all laughing and feeling very comfortable with each other.

Eventually at a lull, Val suddenly said to Karen; “So, day two and you are looking pretty comfy with naturism. Well done, you!”

“Mm,” laughed Karen. “Not that comfortable, I still keep my knickers on!”

“Oh, who cares?” said Rod, “We are just happy that you are comfortable with OUR nudity.”

“I think it’s great,” said Karen. “And if we ever meet away from here I think it might feel weird to see you guys with clothes on. I will always think of you as naked.”

“We look much older with our clothes on,” said Val. “Another advantage of naturism for us. And Rod is right, you keep your knickers on if you want- it’s your choice, always remember that.”

“Well I had no plans to even go topless this week,” said Karen. “As for the bottom half — I didn’t actually prepare that area.”

“Prepare?” asked Karl

“Oh, you know,” said Karen, a little flustered. “Trim, I’m afraid it’s a little too bushy down there right now.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” said Deb. “That too is personal choice. I got rid of my landing strip today just as a special treat for Trev.” Deb stood up and ran her hands down her belly to emphasize how smooth she now was.

“Its true,” smiled Trev. “I do like the shaven haven now and then.”

“Quite a treat for the rest of us too!” said Rod.

Deb laughed and thrust her hips forward and all the rest of us at the table, even Karen, leant forward a little to admire her freshly shaven pussy. With the thick yellow hair totally gone we could see that although her pussy lips were very small and hidden by her chubby flesh, her clitoral hood was pronounced and only slightly darker than the surrounding skin. And in the middle, just the tiniest hint of a coral pink clitoris tip showed through

“Very pretty,” said Val

“Wonderful,” breathed Karl

“You’re a lucky man Trev,” said Rod.

Karen and I really had no comment to make, but we both smiled at Deb as she sat down again.

“I think I would definitely need to resort to the razor before I went nude,” said Karen after some thought and she looked down and idly ran her finger under the front of her g-string leg. It was the leg closest to me and I glanced down to see the crease where leg joined pelvis. Thick black curly pubes rippled under her finger as she ran it along the edge of her mound. She caught me gazing at her and made a funny face before snapping the elastic and closing off the view once more.

For the next half hour we all sat around and discussed pubic hair and the arguments for and against and each one’s personal preference, and for all that we may have been discussing ordinary hairstyles rather than what we liked to see on our genitals.

Val and Rod were confirmed ‘smoothies’. Mainly they said because at their age they preferred it to grey pubic hair. Karl was ‘all natural’ as he had a lot of body hair and if he tookoff the pubes it would look odd and he would have to go the entire ‘back, sack and crack’ which was too much trouble. Deb was either a ‘landing strip’ girl or totally bare, depending on the mood. Trev kept his balls smooth (for Deb) and only manscaped a little now and then, preferring to keep some hair but definitely not on the shaft of his penis.

” I can’t figure you out, Tim,” said Val, looking down at my dick.

“What do you mean?”

“You don’t seem to have much pubic hair, but you don’t look like you do much shaving either.”

“Oh, mostly natural, ” I said, “My hair is blonde and very fine so I have never had much hair there.”

“I see,” she said. “Your balls look smooth but they are not.” She ran her hand up my leg and cupped my balls. Karen looked on wide-eyed. Val’s warm fingers grabbed and twirled the fine blonde hairs on my scrotum and then ran her fingers over the mound above my cock and through the slightly thicker hair there.

“Oops,” she laughed. “Quick Karen, get him a napkin — a big one!” Val’s touch had brought me to almost full erection and I was struggling to move my chair and hide it under the table.

Karen passed me a large cloth napkin and I draped it over my hardening cock to hide it.

“Sorry,” I said, more to Karen than anyone else.

Karen was silently looking down at my still hard cock, now thankfully hidden by the cloth.

“Oh no,” said Val. “It’s my fault. I am sorry Karen.”

“It’s OK, ” said Karen. “I am sure these things happen. In fact that is one of the things about Nudism that I can’t quite get my head around.”

“Oh? How so?”

“I mean comparing you to textiles,” Karen explained. “Men get erections all the time. If we were at clothed barbecue, any number of men could sit around the yalova escort table with erections and hide them. But your ‘no erection’ rule must be very difficult to maintain for most men I am sure.”

“Well, its more of a guideline than a rule,” said Trev with a smile.

Deb punched his arm. “Shut up, you”

“I see your point,” said Rod. “But at a clothed barbecue people would not accept unwanted sexual advances, would they? Most nudists see unwanted erections as sexual aggression — unwanted erections that is.”

“Unwanted is an interesting question,” said Karl. “It supposes that a man must only become erect when it suits the woman. I for one can tell you that a great many of my erections are entirely spontaneous and beyond my control.”

“Oh I think you can control it if you try,” said Deb.

“Why should we have to do all the trying? asked Trev. “Easy for you women to say. You don’t know what it’s like. And besides, you can lay around the pool and be as horny as you like and it doesn’t show.”

“Oh it shows,” countered Deb, “You just don’t know how to look for the signs.”

“Well,” said Karen. “I feel a little sorry for the men, like poor Tim here.” She put her arm on my shoulder. “Men statistically have erections 10 to 15 times a day. That means that if your average nudist male has no erections he is nothing like the rest of the male population.”

“Wouldn’t bother me if they did,” said Val. “But rules are rules.”

“Guidelines,” said Trev, to a round of laughter.

“So you don’t feel that an erection in this context is aggressive Val?” asked Karen.

“More research sis?” I asked.

Karen explained to the others that she was indeed seriously thinking about writing a paper on naturists, and that all their opinions were of great interest to her.

“OK,” said Val. “For the most part no. Unless a guy is hiding in the bushes masturbating — and very few nudists would do that — I find erections attractive and flattering. Just because a guy has a hardon doesn’t mean he is going to jump my bones.”

“But the intention is there,” said Deb.

“No,” explained Val. “The attraction is there — not the intent. ‘Control’ as you put it before is about controlling your actions. Tim had an erection just now but he did not stand up and throw me on the table and ravish me did he?”

“Damn good thing he didn’t,” said Rod. “That’s our best tablecloth!”

After the laughter died down Karen asked. “So, opinion is divided. Val has no problem with seeing erections but Deb is the opposite.”

“Hey I didn’t say that,” laughed Deb. “All I meant was a time and a place for everything.”

“Again,” said Karl. “It is the woman who gets to choose the time and the place eh?”

“And why not?” she asked.

“Not a matter of who chooses,” said Val.” It’s a matter of time and place. For example, here we are in a ‘private’ residence, there are no minors here, no textiles…”

“Karen’s a textile,” I suggested.

Val looked at me and went on. “No one to be offended as we are all friends, so here is a perfectly acceptable time and place for an erection. Or even a whole bunch of them.” She laughed. “But right now I have washing up to do. Back to reality.”

We all got busy helping clean up and as I helped Val take things inside the cabin I whispered: “Val, are you guys swingers?”

“Oh, ” she replied. “Maybe. Sometimes. Why?”

“It’s OK with me,” I said. “But can you please not freak out my sister?”

Val grabbed my hand and looked into my face kindly. “Relax. No one is trying to organize an orgy. And besides, it’s your sister that is asking all the questions. I think she is a lot more confidant and open than you give her credit for.”

“Yeah maybe,” I said. “But she is my sister and I brought her here and I feel responsible for her welfare.”

“Very admirable,” said Val. ” But I’ll say it again. We don’t believe in forcing anyone into anything. And if I think for a moment that Karen is at all uncomfortable, I will do something about it, OK? Now lets enjoy the rest of the evening, deal?”

“Deal.”

After tidying up we all sat back on the deck and enjoyed the red wine. Trev and Deb sat side by side on a small deep chair. Val sat between Karl and Rod on the large sofa and Karen and I shared a smaller sofa.

We were all quite mellow and relaxed by then and the conversation, though still pleasant, had grown more subdued.

Deb was sitting sideways on Trev’s lap and from where I sat I could see he was sporting an erection that was standing up and rubbing against her hip. His left hand was tracing circles around her bum, occasionally drifting in to let his fingers run slowly up the line of her pussy lips.

Karl had his left arm around Val’s shoulder while Rod rested his right hand on the top of her left thigh.

Karen and I sat apart, but leaning forward, elbows on knees as we sipped our wine and chatted.

“So after all that debate,” Karl said to Deb. “You still think this is not the time or the place eh?”

“What çorlu escort do you mean?”

“From here,” said Karl, “we can tell Trev is excited but you are doing your best to hide it.”

Rod laughed: “Leave them alone Karl. Young lovers is what they are.”

“I was hiding it from Karen,” said Deb. “I’m sure she would not appreciate Trev flashing his boner at her.”

“She might,” said Karl. “Did you ask her?”

“No, and I am not about to.”

“I will then,” said Val. She turned to Karen. “No one is asking you to accept anything, Pet. But would it offend you?”

Karen put her head to one side and thought a moment. “No,” she said. “I really think it wouldn’t.”

“Hey do I get a say in this?” laughed Trev.

“Nope,” said Deb. And with that she swung her legs around to sit beside him and reveal his cock, standing up short but incredibly thick with a very tapered head. She grabbed it by the base and wiggled it. “Whose a naughty boy, then?” she giggled.

Karen laughed at the sight of it and immediately apologized. “Sorry Trev,” she said. “I wasn’t laughing at you –just at the situation.”

We settled back to chat again, but it was clear that Deb had no intention of removing her hand from Trev’s cock, and soon his own hand and snaked down and was gently stroking her pussy, opening the lips a tiny bit and now and again lingering on her clitoris.

On the other sofa, Karl’s hand was now over Val’s shoulder and he was softly kneading her breast, while Rod had moved is hand further up her thigh to cup and stroke her bald pussy.

It looked all very innocent and casual but I worried how far they might go, and at what point Karen would become offended.

“Are you OK?” Val asked her. “I don’t want anything to upset you. We are not going to start bonking in front of you, I promise. We just like a tiny bit of hanky panky — as my mother used to call it – at the end of the day.”

“No,” said Karen abstractedly. “No, I’m fine.” Her eyes were fixed on Karl, whose cock was now standing up in an erection the size that I — and I am sure Karen – had never seen before outside of porn. And seldom within porn for that matter. It must have been easily ten inches long and proportionately thick, rising straight up out of his thick black groin to reach past his belly button. His foreskin was half retracted to reveal a huge bulbous head, an angry purple in colour. I had no idea what Karen was thinking, but it damn near scared the life out of me.

Val followed Karen’s gaze down to the cock by her side, said “Ooohh,” and did what was possibly the most erotic thing I had ever seen. She draped one leg over Rod’s knee and the other over Karl’s, opening her pussy wide for us to see. Then she reached out and took each of their cocks in each hand and very very slowly wanked them.

“Damn Karl,” laughed Trev, “you are gonna give poor Karen nightmares.”

“Oh, I am harmless old man,” said Karl. “You all know that.”

Rod was actively running two fingers in and out of Val’s pussy by now. Trev had a finger in Deb and his thumb circling her clit, while she stroked his cock and reached under to play with his balls. Karl bent his head to take Val’s nipple into his mouth and she sighed and smiled over at Karen. Rod had a below average size cock which looked dwarfed compared to Karl’s, but Val paid them both the same attention, squeezing and running her hands from base to tip on each, although her left hand all but obscured Rod’s cock whereas her right hand seemed tiny wrapped around Karl’s giant shaft.

They were all breathing heavily now, and apart from sighs and giggles there was not much said. Karen and I sat transfixed. My own cock was rock hard and the tip was already wet with precum and I draped my towel over it to shield it from my sister’s eyes. Not that I needed have bothered. Her eyes were too busy taking in the scene around her. Deb caught my eye and with a gesture asked me to uncover my cock so she could see it. She had both heels up on the chair under her buttocks now and Trev had opened her slit as wide was he could and was pinching and kneading her clit. With her hand reached back behind her she was wanking Trev’s cock hard and fast as he kissed her throat and shoulders.

Karen was leaning further forward, gazing intently at Karl’s cock as Val’s hand slid up and down it. Karl now had is left hand on her pussy, flicking her clit with little taps while her husband drove his fingers deeper into her with circular motions.

Val had a seraphic smile on her face and would close her eyes again and again, only to open them and look over to Karen. It seemed that even in her high state of excitement she would not forget her promise to my sister.

Karen suddenly stood up and began to move toward their sofa. I panicked for a moment and tried to pull her back but she turned and smiled at me. “Don’t worry. I am not gonna DO anything.”

She knelt on the deck before the three of them, one hand resting on Val’s ankle as she drank in the scene.

Left alone I looked over to Deb and Trev who were clearly too engrossed in each other now to worry about others. I looked back to the main sofa and caught Val’s eye. She smiled, pursed her lips in a kiss at me and mouthed the words “Don’t worry.”

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