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It was a normal, everyday Spring Thursday, and I had just arrived home after a grueling 55 minute commute which had totally drained whatever energy I had left completely out of me. Every day this week traffic had been bad, the result of some of the endless “improvements” the Department of Transportation felt strong enough about to extend into rush hour.

I went inside my modest townhouse, kicked off my shoes, snapped open a brew, and settled into my easy chair to relax. Like a bee to honey, I heard my wife Patty coming downstairs, and I smiled when she entered the room.

“Do you like this blouse?” she asked with a smile, posing in the blue tinted simple shirt. It was nice, nothing special, but she looked good in it. “Yes, I replied, it’s nice, honey.”

“I though I would wear it to dinner Saturday night,” she said.

“Where are you going?” I asked.

“Where? You are taking me to dinner, silly,” she replied. “Don’t you remember, you promised. We’re going to Seaview.”

Oh, yes, I think I did ask her, but that was a couple weeks ago after she was complaining we don’t go anywhere anymore. It was a throwaway comment to get her off my back, cause it seems like she’s always bitching me about something. The yard, the painting which needs to be finished, the car that needed an oil change, not getting a big enough house allowance, you name it.

We had been married 18 years, and truthfully, between work and volunteer work and the kids and work and church and work and, well, you get the picture, we had grown artfully apart in some ways and our lives had become routine in others. Yes, we love each other. But some might not know it.

Our love life was in a drought. When we were just married we made love five, six, seven nights a week, sometimes a couple times a night. After a couple years we got into the few times a week mode many couples do, as life gets in the way of pleasure. But we always made a habit of Saturday night being one for pleasure, and at least one other night a week. Sometimes I would go into work a little late, as she’d humor me with a quickie to remind me of how wonderful (!) I was.

But in recent years sex had been hit or miss. On anniversaries, birthdays and New Year’s Eve. Seldom in between. I would be lying if I said we averaged once a month. Some of it was fantastic, but more often than not I felt she was putting out for duty rather than pleasure. Oh, sure, there were times where I could tell she really wanted it, that she had a fabulous orgasm, but the majority of the time it was sex for my sake, and not a lot of that.

In recent months I had attempted to rekindle the flame, a romantic weekend here and a bouquet of flowers there. A nice dinner here and there. It didn’t really help my sex life, except that she had humored by with a couple of impromptu hand jobs for no apparent reason. Depressing, actually, but I guess the routine had become routine. Or something like that.

“Rob????. You are not listening to me,” she barked, snapping me out of my slumber. “You didn’t forget about dinner, did you?”

“No honey, I remember, and that blouse looks nice.”

“Okay, okay, but you seem so distant lately. We never talk.”

What could I say. I was tired of talk. I wanted action. My secretary was 20 years older than me, but every once in a while I fantasized about her being bent over my desk. Geez.

“Honey, work has been tough, I’m sorry. We’ll have fun this weekend, for sure. In fact, if you haven’t started dinner I’ll run out and get us chinese, what do you say.”

“Okay, hon, go ahead. Oh, and by the way, I have something I want to ask you, but it can wait.”

Oh, heck, I thought, whenever she asks, it drives me crazy or costs me money. Well, it can wait. I am in no mood for any of her Feng Shui, crystals, homeopathic healing or magic charms talk, and our bankbook was not exactly exploding. Other than a round of golf here and there, and our week of vacation at the beach, not exactly living on easy street. But my job was good, even though the lack of exercise gave me a bit of a love handle. Patty did some volunteer work tutoring some teenagers, proudly driving around in our two-year-old minivan with the “Patty’s Jeep” license plates. No, it wasn’t a Jeep, but it was a Chrysler, and the plates were a reminder of the vehicle she had through her 20s.

She found the time to work out a couple times a week, keeping in a size 10, a good if not a model’s figure. She had nice breasts, 34Cs, and a special pear-shaped ass that I loved to hold on to…when she let me.

After dinner we had settled into West Wing, when, during a commercial, she asked if she could have a few hundred bucks to buy this writing desk she saw at Bombay Company. “It’s beautiful, it would go wonderfully in the study.”

I shook my head. “Honey, money is a little tight, I’m sure it’s nice…”

She cut me off. “Look, cheapskate, I don’t ask for much.”

“Whoa, cheapskate, who paid for this house, dinner, your car…” my Irish dander rising my the second.

She kahramanmaraş escort was pissed. “Wait a minute, you make it sound like I am a whore, you bastard, I do a lot around this house, wait on your hand and foot.”

I don’t know what happened, but I exploded. All of my frustrations came out at once.

“If you were a whore I would be getting my dick taken care of, that’s for sure, a whole lot more than it is, you bitch.”

She started crying, and I just can’t stand that. I felt like a jerk. I tried to hug her but she pushed me away.

“Aw come on, honey, I didn’t mean it,” I said, not knowing that my look and tone showed her I really did. I started thinking that I am constantly getting on her case about things, probably because I am so sexually frustrated, but I was sorry to hurt her.

We settled back to the show, on opposite sides of the couch.

Afterward, she said to me again, pouting, “I really want that desk, it’s small, it looks great, and it’s only $399 on sale.”

After a pregnant pause, I replied, “I really want some sex.”

She shook her head in disgust.

“You do treat me like a whore when you say things like that.”

I nodded, “Sorry, but what can I say? Put out and you can have your desk. How about Saturday night?”

“You mean if we have sex and dinner I get the desk?”

“Yup. And the agreement is for sex in the van, before or after dinner. No idle promises. No IOUs. Sex on demand, payable in full before the merchandise.”

It was one of those long, drawn out pauses, where neither side talks. The line was drawn, would she cross it?

“In the van?” she asked, a place where we hadn’t done it in ages.

“Uh huh.” I said it firmly, but I would have given in if she had asked. But she didn’t.

I stared at her, she at me.

Quietly, almost without me hearing, she said: “Okay.”

“What?”

“I said okay. Sex and dinner for the desk.”

We had been down this road before. She had promised sex for the bed set, the television for the basement, you name it. But she usually didn’t seriously take the deal, welshing out nearly every time. She’d claim it was too late, she was too tired, I hadn’t shaved, whatever. And each time I let her go, never holding her to the bargain.

I had never followed the hooker’s credo…get the money (or the sex in this case)…up front.

Whatever, I had a hard on thinking of the night. “You aren’t going to welsh on me, are you?”

“Nope,” she replied before nodding off to slumberland.

– Saturday’s Blur –

I reminded her hourly about the deal, teasing her incessantly. Heck, I knew she would back out. Imagine, an old married couple still and I get less sex than a priest. Well, maybe not a priest.

After playing a round of golf Saturday, I hit the shower and walked into our bedroom. Patti was laying on the bed. “Do you want me now,” she asked, coyly.

“Yes,” I replied, “but it won’t count for the desk. That is in the van tonight.”

She just shook her head, turned over on her side, and feigned sleep.

Just after 5 I shook her awake, kissing her neck. “Get up honey, our reservations are for 6. She attempted to shake the cobwebs out, but it took a few minutes before she was totally back in the real world.

“Ok, let me get washed up, I’m famished,” she said with a smile. I lay down on the bed while she showered, wondering whether tonight would be the night I’d get some. I felt like a teenager before a big date, not knowing if I would end up with a case of blue balls or nirvana.

After a bit she entered the bedroom, hair encased in a bath towel, another around her middle. She smiled at me, “Want to do it now?” I nodded my head, but added that anything before we left the house would be extra, and not meet the terms of our deal.

She rolled her eyes, and headed toward the closet. “What…ever”.

She pulled out a pair of pretty cotton panties, but I told her to leave them in the drawer. “Not tonight, honey, leave them off.” Surprisingly she put them back, put on her bra, blouse, and a pleated skirt which stopped just above her knees. Back to the bathroom to brush her hair, add some makeup, jewelry, and before you know it we were out the door and on our way to Seaview.

It was still light out, and when I mentioned stopping to seal our deal she emphatically said no way. It was too light, too dangerous, you name it. I just figured it would be the first of a constant stream nos that night.

Instead of pouting, I decided to let whatever happen, happen. We had a marvelous dinner, me the steak, she the flounder, both prepared perfect. I have to admit that she looked lovely. Before desert I excused myself and headed to the men’s room, sitting in a stall to do my business and thinking ahead to what might be a stellar evening of debauchery. Footsteps entered the men’s room, and after a bit one of the men said to the other an eye-opening comment.

“You’re right, that girl has nice legs,” said one, kastamonu escort apparently following up on an earlier conversation.

My ears perked up, and I told myself to look around the room to see whose legs were so nice. At least until I heard the next comment.

“What’s nicer is that she isn’t wearing any panties!”

“What?” replied the surprised man.

“She’s right across from me and when she got up to the salad bar I could see right up to those pretty pussy hairs!” he said. “Oh yea, that was nice.”

The two continued their banter for a bit, talking about MY wife as I remembered my sans-panties order. I couldn’t help my dick from hardening as I thought of their voyeuring eyes. I waited in the bathroom for several minutes, letting the erection subside before washing up and re-entering the restaurant. Sure enough, about 20 feet from my table, two men and their wives were eating dinner and one of the men had a great view of our table.

It made for a pleasant remainder of the dinner. Patty even mentioned my mood, and I just told her I enjoyed having some quality time with her, all the while wondering if the guys at the other table were gazing at my wife’s legs or higher. I made sure I had my seat a little to the side to give them a table with a view.

The service was great, fast, and after filling our bellies we walked hand in hand to our car, but not before walking, hand-in-hand, past the table with the two couples. I caught one of the two men’s eyes, and winked. He quickly turned his head, as if worried I would say something.

“What time does Bombay close, honey,” I quizzed as we neared our pride and joy mini-van. “Ten? Then we have just enough time to fool around.”

We got into the van and I started driving away from the resort and around the nearby grounds. I stopped the car twice, off on a side road once and another in a parking lot of what seemed like a deserted building. Both times we started making out, both times we were interrupted by cars (including once by a security van slowly driving by us) and she calmly said that she wasn’t comfortable. But she didn’t say the big N-O.

As I pulled away, she said to find someplace more quiet. It had seemed so much easier years ago when I spent numerous evenings parking throughout the tri-state area with various dates.

I couldn’t believe my ears, though, because she actually wanted to go through with it. Minutes later I noticed a soon to be built housing development, complete with a main road which sported a “No Outlet” sign prominently displayed. Why not give that a try? The road was dark and we drove back, maybe a half mile, before huge signs warned us to go no further. As we turned around at the end, heading past a median strip, I noticed a little pullout on the side and pulled in. Voila, perfect!

Patti sat still as I moved toward her, running my hand through her hair. “Honey, I said, I love you. And I want you very badly.”

“I love you too, but can’t we go home?”

“Nope, a deal’s a deal,” I said. This was going to be fun!

“Let’s get it over with then,” she said, nearly spoiling the mood. She dropped to her knees, reached over and pulled down my zipper, and in no time began honoring my cock with her wet lips. She licked the sides of my dick, grasping the base of it and jerking me up and down. I fought off the instant urge to cum, and was basking in the wonderful feelings she was giving me.

“Suck it, honey, suck my dick.”

She did.

Up and down, around and around. She held my cock and licked my pulsing dick as if it were Baskin-Robbins’ newest chocolate flavored ice cream cone. She wet it with her spit, slobbering all over me, and swallowed all the pre-cum which leaked from the eye of my rock-hard cock. It was an incredible feeling, one I hadn’t felt for years, as she sucked my dick out on the dark, secluded road.

She continued worshiping my cock, alternating a tongue bath with face rubbing and then good old fashion cock-sucking just like the good old days. It was a tough battle — not cumming when my dick wanted to splatter her mouth with baby batter — at least until we were shocked to hear a nearing car. Patty jumped off my dick and jumped back into her seat as if jumping away from a slithering snake. And although she sort of was, it wasn’t my idea of a great ending to a fantastic blow job. “Honey! I cried, that was wonderful. Nobody saw you. Come on.” False alarm. The wayward automobile had turned the corner, drove past us, and disappeared up the road.

I begged her for more, but it took the threat of the disappearing desk to finally ensure her decision.

“Alright,” she said, moving to the back of the van. “Let’s go, though. The store closes in less than an hour.”

Time was ticking, and my dick was still immense from her skillful mouth job.

She laid down on the back seat, lifting her skirt up and around her hips, presenting me with a pretty trimmed pussy backlit by the moon’s gentle light as she opened kayseri escort up her shapely legs.

“Wait,” I said, remembering the exquisite sucking she recently had been doing

“You weren’t finished with this.”

I suspect she was losing her will to argue, because she moved up and back onto her knees and got back to work on my dick. Quite possibly the naughtiness of this rendezvous was turning her on.

She blew me, sucking my cock like a teenage temptress from a land long ago and far away. Slowly, she sucked inch after pulsating inch into her mouth. I felt my powerful dick slide deep, causing her to groan then nearly choke. She had never been able to deep throat me, but I did have nearly all in her mouth as she relaxed her mouth and took as much of my throbbing dick as she could. Then she switched over and whipped her tongue over the sensitive underside of my cock.

It didn’t take much of her mouth magic, and my dick nearly exploded from her intense slurping and sucking. She even rubbed in along her cheek a few times for effect, and that just about did it.

“Honey, let’s fuck,” was all I said, as she floated onto her back, and I pulled down my pants, hurrying to get inside her wet pussy before she changed her mind.

I would like to say I gave her a good, powerful fucking, but I won’t lie. It was awful. Oh, she was great and I enjoyed myself immensely, but I couldn’t have thrust into her soaked sucking pussy more than a dozen times before I showered her insides with a gallon of pent up desire of sperm before she knew what hit her.

“Oh honey, I couldn’t wait,” I said, my cock shriveling inside her. “That was intense, it was great.”

She held my ass as I collapsed on top of her.

Patti lay below me, her hips still moving up against my loins. Her body moved while mine was spent. “Oh honey, don’t worry,” she cooed, rubbing against me. “I understand. I think…” She paused mid-sentence, still pushing up at me. “But I am a little horny, can you get it up again?”

Oh my god, she wants more. Doesn’t it figure. It’s been ages since we’d done it, and now she wants more, a doubleheader within 15 minutes of each other. Unbelievable.

I wanted to fuck her again, sure, but I am not the young stud of days gone by. I worried I wouldn’t be able to get it up again, but as we slid around to lay side-by-side, I did feel a stirring as I fingered her wetness with first one, then two, digits.

We cuddled; she played with my gradually hardening dick, I caressed her cum-filled pussy.

“That feels great, honey,” she said in near whisper. Her hips and pussy were fucking my fingers, which in turn continued to lengthen my dick. “Let me get on top of you.”

Patti and I revered positions, and I caressed her 34c tits while she grasped my cock. She rubbed my semi-hard dick all along her slit, up and down. Her eyes were closed as her hands worked on me and her pussy, and I could tell she was in never-never land.

It took some work but I somehow was able to manage enough strength and length to slip inside her welcoming cunt. I was nowhere near as hard as I was, and in the back of my mind I worried about going soft before she came, so I grasped her ass and pulled her on to me as much as I possibly could.

She rutted against me, humping me with eyes closed. She kissed my neck, fucking me. I have to admit it was good, it was a great feeling, something I had missed for the longest time. Enhancing the act was my mind, which reveled in the thoughts of her shapely ass being pulled in and all over my cock. I somehow pulled up her one piece top, savoring her tits with my mouth. She moaned as I thrust inside her, getting her closer and closer to nirvana.

We fucked like teenagers, with her telling me to fuck harder and harder and harder. She was clearly on the edge of cumming, and I wanted that to happen like nothing else. So intent were we on our carnal actions that we didn’t hear the vehicle approaching us until the high beams shot through the rear window.

Again, Patti was shocked and attempted to pull, no jump, off me, but I was too close and held her ass tight against me as I rutted up against her. Something about the debauchery must have set off a trigger deep inside her, and she somehow forgot about the flashing beams and finished herself, with me close behind, in a fitful orgasmic explosion of cum.

“Ohhh yes!!!” she cried out, “yes yes yes yes.” I could see her look out and see what turned out to be a pickup truck with several youths hooting and hollering at the woman with the open top riding someone in the van. She clung to me, spent and embarassed all in one.

I, being below eye level, couldn’t see anything in the external world, but as she rolled off me I glanced up and saw the truck’s taillights blazing and heard the horn’s honing a loud salute.

Ah, it was great!

Even the little woman gave me an evil smile after her heartbeat got back to normal.

“That was quite a romp, tiger,” she said with a smile in her voice. “And the visitors, well, at first I was mortified but when you kept going you sent me over the edge.”

I smiled at her, then jumped up as I looked at the clock in the front of the van. A deal is a deal, and it was 9:30. I flew into the front seat, somehow managing not to trip myself as my pants were still around my legs.

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

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any person living or dead is purely coincidental. All fictional characters participating in fictional sex are over 18 years of age. FF, voyeur

She bent over to counter to reach for the knob to turn off the water and my eye couldn’t help traveling the length of her back to her butt, highlighted as it was in her bikini bottoms. Her feet were off the floor as she stretched to reach the faucet. Even though my daughter’s best friend Linda just turned eighteen, she had not yet reached five-foot-tall yet and my counters were built for my six-foot four frame, so they were a bit high for her. Of course, I didn’t take into account my daughter’s friends when I designed the place. I was single back then, so I built my home to fit me. When I married my late wife Carrie, it took her some time to get used to the house’s dimensions, but she never complained about it. She was five-seven, so it wasn’t too difficult for her to adapt. My little girl, however, had problems as she grew. At one point, I built a couple of stools for her to use until she got tall enough to no longer need them. Brenda, my daughter, crested five foot the year her mother passed.

My wife Carrie was only thirty-five when she contracted a freak bacterial infection that claimed her life in less than forty-eight hours. To say Brenda and I were unprepared for it is an understatement. At forty, I was not expecting to become a single dad to a teenager who was just entering puberty. Of course, we mourned Carrie’s passing, each in our own way, and we were there for each other. Brenda would nestle herself into my shoulder, her body wracked with sobs while I shed my own tears. Gradually, we both moved on, never fully healing, never getting over her loss, but knowing that life goes on.

Brenda threw herself into her school activities, like the swim team as well as focusing on her academics. She was on track to get a full scholarship when she graduated in next year. She practiced religiously in our pool to keep her times down and her body in top physical condition. Her team mates became her best friends and there was rarely a time when there wasn’t a half-naked teenager with a swimmer’s body prancing around the house. Now as a forty-two-year-old man, I will admit it had an effect on me. I had gone on a handful of dates since Carrie passed, but nothing serious became of them. Brenda, for her part, didn’t date. She never told me about any boys that had caught her eye and the only boys I saw her with were her team mates, and they came around the pool only on occasion. I tried to broach the subject, but she always demurred and never gave me a solid answer as to why. Mostly she said she was more worried about getting a scholarship than finding a boyfriend. She was just too busy. I let it go.

Besides, there was an upside to having her girlfriends around all the time. More than one occasion, I found my hard cock in my hand as I watched the girls in the pool. Not my daughter, mind you. That thought never entered my lust-filled mind, but Linda was another matter. Where Brenda had reached five-five, Linda was like four-eleven. The word tiny doesn’t do her justice. Petite but tone and fully mature with solid C cups on her 32-inch bust highlighted her womanly figure. Also, while Brenda didn’t date, Linda had gone through a number of boyfriends just in the last year. Brenda did regale me with the social exploits of her team mates, almost as if to highlight how much more mature she was. And Brenda was mature. Where her mother had healthy B-cups, Brenda took after her grandmother with solid D’s. This presented a problem for her swimming career, as they added a lot of drag to her stroke, but with a tight suit and some banding, she could compensate. It obviously worked, though on more than one occasion she wondered aloud how much faster she would be with a smaller chest.

While I stared, Linda finished turning off the water and hopped back down to the floor. I think I managed to alter my gaze back to her face before she turned around. If she saw me peeking, she didn’t let on before thanking me for the water and bouncing back to the pool where her five team mates waited for her. It seemed like the exercise portion was over and the girls were just lounging in the pool or on the chaise. There were two male team mates with them, but they stayed on the water on the other side of the pool. They had been swimming for a couple of hours, and daylight was already fading. The party would have to end soon.

Sliding the door open, all heads turned toward me. “Brenda, don’t forget you need to get to bed early if we’re going to make it to Grammaw’s house tomorrow. Don’t stay up swimming too late.”

She bounced out of the pool, water streaming off her ample bouncing bosom as she ran up to me. “Daddy, is it ok if the girls stay over tonight? They can leave when we leave for Grammaw’s. Their moms already said it was ok.”

“Since it’s a weekend, I guess so,” a bevy of tight-bodied teenage girls? Would I have a problem with that? Who would? “But you really need to let elazığ escort me know these things ahead of time, sweetheart. Stop dropping them on me at the last minute.

“Yay!” She clapped her hands and jumped on me, kissing my cheek. “Thanks Daddy!”

The kids continued to play in the pool while I ordered pizza and kept a watchful eye out the kitchen window. The boys tried to get close to the girls, but it seemed two boys were no match for the gaggle of more mature girls. Eventually, the boys left out the side gate, covering their frustrated boners with their towels as they left.

Once the Pizza arrived, the girls all came in wearing long t-shirts over their damp suits, making wet rings over their breasts and on their asses. They sat on the floor around the TV while they attacked the pizzas. Some dancing show was on and at one point Linda boasted that she could dance every bit as well as the girls on the show. Bethany, a tall, thin redhead with pendulous breasts was challenging her to prove it, while Karen, a curvy brunette with grapefruit-sized breasts and a nice ass nodded in agreement. Tina, a late bloomer who looked fourteen even though she was the same age as the rest, didn’t seem interested in the discussion, but laughed along with her friends. With no figure to speak of, Tina probably felt out of her league with her team mates. From what Brenda had told me, she was the most sheltered of the bunch, thanks to overbearing parents. The four girls all taunted Linda to give a demonstration of her dancing skills.

I was content to sit and see how it played out. I was intrigued at the thought of the sexy little teenager dancing in a bikini and t-shirt, but I doubted it would be that risqué, especially in front of her friends. Brenda whipped out her phone and brought up a playlist that, while not to my taste, was probably all over the teenage scene. She streamed it through the stereo system and Linda hopped up, her tits jiggling in their confinement, and started to shuffle a little.

“All right. Look and learn bitches! Oh! I’m sorry, Mr. Brandford.” She evidently forgot I was in the room. At least she knew to use proper language around adults, anyway.

“No worries, Linda. Just try to keep it clean,” I said with a wink as I imagined her using all kinds of language as I drilled her from behind.

Her petite frame was enveloped in her oversized t-shirt, but the stretched out neck and its threadbare condition draped over her large bosom, left little to the imagination as her breasts swung heavily with the beat of the music. Her tanned and lean legs had no hint of cellulite as the moved with her dancing. It was not a particularly risqué dance, though. Actually, it was something similar to what a lot of drill teams might perform at half time, but that she was clad in only a string bikini bottom and that t-shirt made it enticing. Then the beat changed and she started throwing her hair around in circles while in a half-crouch. This movement also got her breasts spinning as well, lifting the bottom of her shirt a little on each swing and causing the hem to slide over her ass.

Her friends all started whooping and hollering encouragement to her as she really got into the beat. Then, my world stopped momentarily as she started to move her hips us and down in what pop culture calls twerking, and I call pantomiming sex. The crotch of her bikini crept into the crack of her ass until there was nothing to see of it, making it look like she was bottomless as those perfect globes of her ass slapped together invitingly.

Thankfully, she stopped before I had to say something about it. I was in a predicament as I was somewhat aroused and it wouldn’t be appropriate to stand up. This would definitely not be a good thing to display in front of five teenage girls. The song ended and another one started, so Bethany got up and gave us her show. While not as athletic as Linda, she was more graceful and artistic in her movements. I could seriously see her as a ballerina if she tried for it. Her dance didn’t have a twerk, of which I was both relieved and disappointed, as were, apparently, her friends, who booed her performance.

Karen was up next, and evidently wanted to outdo Linda, because she started moving around and grinding to the beat, doing a lot of squatting and bouncing. Her ample ass flexed with each step, both cheeks bare thanks to the t-back bottom she wore and the fact that she kept pulling the hem of her t-shirt taut at the waist. When she was done, all the girls cheered her.

My Brenda got up and started her dance to another song and wasn’t going to be outdone. I don’t think I ever saw a more exciting yet innocent dance. I couldn’t help but react, even though she avoided the twerk and grind her friends had done, because she used her hands in a very sensual way, touching her arms, hips and thighs very provocatively without being obscene. It was more like an artistic interpretive dance one might see at a recital. I got the feeling the girls forgot I was there, particularly Brenda as I don’t think erzincan escort she would have done a dance like that if she remembered I in the room. I simply sat and watched.

Tina’s dance was just sad. The little girl apparently had never danced before and it showed. I felt sympathy for her because she was obviously a late bloomer and shy to boot. I could tell, however, that eventually she would definitely be a stunner. Her friends were supportive though and did not criticize her shortcomings while they declared Brenda’s dance the winner. Only Bethany complained about the results, but even she knew who won.

After a lot of teenaged squealing, the girls settled down to watch a movie. They chose Magic Mike, which held no interest for me at all, so once my erection abated, I excused myself to my room. With five girls in the house, we didn’t have accommodations for all of them, but they didn’t seem to mind. Linda had spent the night enough times that I knew she shared Brenda’s bed. I figured the others would either make a pallet or perhaps hit the couches in the living room. I left it to them as I made my way to my room.

Several years ago, I had installed a security system with automations and video monitoring. Aside from arming and disarming, we rarely used it and never had reason to check the feeds. Brenda probably forgot all about it. This evening, however, my curiosity got the better of me and my good sense and I pulled up the feeds. I had four cameras, one outside overlooking the pool, one at the front door overlooking the walk, one inside looking at the door and one in the living room. That one gave me a full view of all the girls sprawled out on the floor and couch watching the movie.

The film held their rapt attention as they held mine. My eyes were drawn to Linda as she lay on her belly on the floor. The curves of her calves flowed into her tight thighs and curved upwards to her near perfect ass, still barely covered by her bikini bottoms. I let my eyes linger there before following the slope of her back. Her t-shirt gaped at the sleeve showing an ample amount of her impressive side-boob as it was squished by the large cushion she wrapped her arms around and rested her chest upon. I imagined running my tongue around every curve of that hard body while my fingers played softly along her skin, inciting moans and sighs of pleasure.

I was so wrapped up in my fantasy that I almost missed the movement in the recliner. It seems that after I left the room, little Tina had claimed my chair and was making herself comfortable. Very comfortable. From the angle of the camera, I could see her legs drawn up to her chest and her shirt pulled over them. This caused the hem to ride up a bit and gave me a good look at her bikini covered crotch. Her eyes never left the screen, where Matthew McConnaughey was baring his impressing six-pack. In fact, I doubt an earthquake would have distracted any of the girls. Tina, however, was not just enthralled, she was obviously excited. While her left arm was wrapped around her knees, her right hand was busy between them. I could see the fabric covering her pussy moving rhythmically as her fingers rubbed her pussy.

Unfortunately, the lighting was such that I couldn’t really make out any details, but just the knowledge that a young girl was masturbating in my recliner added some steel to my already hard cock. I barely had enough thought to wonder about such a young girl masturbating, I didn’t start until I was almost sixteen, but it didn’t really matter. I clicked record on my camera to have some jack off material for later as I watched. Without having the definition to be sure, it looked like she might have pulled the crotch aside to get better access. She was chewing on the collar of her shirt as she played and her hips were moving ever so slightly causing the recliner to rock a little.

On the couch, Karen and Bethany were sitting next to each other, while Brenda was on the loveseat and Linda stayed on the floor. Tina’s eyes began to close for extended times as the rocker moved slightly back and forth. After some time, she stopped all movement as her head dropped to her knees. Then, she stretched her legs out and took a more relaxed posture.

Bethany and Karen were whispering to each other, making them giggle occasionally. Being a dirty old man, my imagination went wild with what they were saying, and I noticed that Linda was also squirming a bit as she lay on the floor. Clearly, the movie had taken them all to a level of excitement that would be dangerous if their male team mates were still around. It made me wish I was still in my late teens, but then again, when I was a teenager, I don’t remember the girls looking so hot.

Suddenly, Linda hopped up from the floor, giving me a good view of her nipples poking through the T-shirt as her boobs jiggled. She made her way to the hallway, heading, I assumed, to the bathroom. I have a Jack-and-Jill bathroom, which gives me a separate door. I had not closed it the last time I used it, but it was not standing wide erzurum escort open either. A slice of light shot through the opening, and I could see her shadow moving in the room as I heard her close the other door. I figured she would close my door as well, but that never happened. I heard the seat of the toilet slap the tank and the rustling of clothes.

I have never been a peeping Tom. I have never snuck a voyeuristic peek at a woman in a changing room or bathroom. But what with Tina’s activity and the nearly naked flesh parading around the house, my hormones got the better of me and I rose from my desk, switched off my light and moved until I could just see Linda sitting on the commode. The door wasn’t opened enough to see everything, just a sliver that revealed part of her face, her right shoulder and the right side of her body. Her T-shirt bunched at the top of her thigh, so there really was nothing more to see.

Until she leaned back and spread her legs.

I could make out her right thigh and hip as she sat and slid her but toward the edge of the seat. Her right hand slipped between her thighs, just outside of my angle of vision. I could see her wrist moving, but not her whole hand from my position. I cursed my luck and considered walking closer, but thought better of it. I was in the shadows, but if I got closer, she might see my movements in the sliver of light spilling into my room from the bathroom. I tried to convince myself that I wasn’t seeing her masturbating, that she was simply adjusting her suit or something innocuous.

Then she moaned.

It was so subtle I almost missed it, but a second moan and a sigh followed and her thigh started moving as he hips began to thrust. Just watching her hip and thigh quickly became frustrating and I had to see more. I crept closer to the door, careful to stay out of the light, but still being able to keep my eye on the action inside.

“Uhnnnnnn. Ohhh ohhh.” She groaned. I could see her hand covering her mound and slipping back and forth over her crotch. I could hear the slurping wetness of her pussy as she rubbed it, but I couldn’t see any of her vulva. Then she jerked and stiffened her back as her hand clamped onto her pussy, and she drew a hissing breath clearly cumming on her fingers. My cock throbbed in my jeans and ached for relief, but as much as I wanted to walk in on her and offer her my cum, I fought for self-control and held off. A fantasy is one thing, but indecent exposure is a serious offense.

Once her breathing returned to normal, she licked her fingers, pulled her bikini back up, and flushed the toilet. Once the light went out, I heard her make her way back to the living room. I went back to my computer and watched as she curled up in front of the loveseat. The movie had ended and I saw Brenda get up to change the disk. The light from the TV highlighted the points of her nipples in her top, indicating the movie had an effect on her, too. It made me wonder if she was going to retire to her room to relieve her tension the same way Tina and Linda had.

Since it was getting late and we had to leave early in the morning, I decided to break up the movie party and send the girls to bed. I made my way into the living room and was immediately detected the hint of five girl’s arousal. “Alright, ladies. Movie’s over. Brenda and I have an early morning, so I think you all should hit the hay.”

“Awwww, please,” the girls whined at me.

Brenda, though, stood and stretched, drawing her t-shirt taught across her chest. “He’s right. Besides, I’m pooped anyway.”

“Where do we sleep?” Tina had never slept over before.

“Well, I have plenty of blankets and pillows in the hall closet if you want to all crash on cushions here, or you can crash in Brenda’s room.”

“I call dibs on sharing Brenda’s bed,” Linda hollered. The two often slept in that bed together when it was just the two of them on a sleepover.

“Can I sleep here on the couch? Bethany looked like she wasn’t used to palleting on a floor.

“We can both fit on the couch,” Karen offered.

“I can fit on the loveseat,” Tina said.

“All right, then. That settles it. I imagine there’s about to be a rush on the shower, so make it quick, girls. I’ll be in my room if you need anything. Do knock first, please.”

“Good night, Mr. Brandford,” came a chorus of voices.

“G’night, Daddy,” Brenda offered with a peck on my cheek. I grabbed a beer from the fridge to take to my room as the girls grabbed pillows and blankets. By the time I got to my room, someone was in the shower and had closed the door to my room.

Oh, well, it was too much to hope for a cheap voyeuristic thrill of seeing girls in the shower. I sat at my desk and opened a browser, flipping through my favorite porn sites. My cock had remained half-mast since Linda’s performance and I needed some relief. I held off grabbing my dick until the showers had stopped and the movement in the house had come to a standstill. Just to double check after about an hour, I hit the camera monitor and looked in on the living room. In the green image of the night vision, I could see Tina on the loveseat wrapped up in a blanket and nestled in facing the back cushions. On the sofa, I had expected to see Bethany and Karen with their heads at opposite ends of the couch, but instead they were spooned and sharing a pillow.

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It was nice to be able to walk past the bridge where we so frantically made love on New Year’s Eve. The construction has proven to have benefits and pitfalls, though. Now that the Water Way is finished for the most part, we will no longer be able to “visit” our bridge.

But at least we found a new place along the Water Way to visit. We walked along under the stars on that muggy July night staring into the clear water trinkling from the many fountains. We admired the scenery and dreamed of someday being able to call such a magical place home. We walked under another bridge, and after spying a row of hedges secluding a nice patch of grass, you dragged me to the wall in the secluded enclosure.

Following your lead, I pressed you against the wall and forced my mouth upon yours. I felt your hands grabbing my ass and pulling me closer to you. My hands followed suit and clutched at your powerful shoulders, ran through your hair and pulled your face towards mine in an effort to get more of that incredible tongue. You lightly traced circles with the pads of your fingers over the exposed parts of my body and made me shiver with excitement.

Several times, we paused, holding our breaths together kahramanmaraş escort after the slightest sound from the restaurant on the other side of the hedges. Each time, our passion doubled from the few precious seconds without skin to skin contact. Within minutes, we could no longer wait for what we both knew would be a most pleasurable encounter.

You pulled my breasts free from my blouse as I unbuckled your belt and slid your pants over your muscular hips and butt. After spending awhile worshipping my sensitive nipples with that talented tongue, your whispered those words that you know would turn me on even more. “Put your mouth on me….”

I got down on my knees in the grass with my breasts exposed to any clever enough to peer through the bushes and made love to your manhood with my experienced tongue. It wasn’t long before my efforts were rewarded with the taste of your sweet juices. But you weren’t finished yet….you had to have me then and there.

You laid down on the grass and pulled me on top of you. I lowered myself, dripping with pleasure, slowly onto your waiting manhood. I was so close, but every time I wanted to speed things up kastamonu escort and get myself home, you would slow me down and sweetly torture me.

And then there was a noise….people were coming out of the back door of the restaurant not 15 feet away. We both stopped this time, on the verge, and held our breaths while staring at each others’ faces and trying not to laugh. We had no doubt that they heard our frenzied playing in the bushed but chose not to investigate.

After they left, you got up, pulling me up on all fours, and took me from behind. I was moaning so loud, I’m amazed we weren’t discovered. The grass irritated your knees, so you pushed me down onto my back and again suckled at my nipples as you entered me. You leaned back on your knees, pulling my legs (still in the high heels you loved so much) over your shoulders. Seeing you this way, half dressed, sweating in the grass, and taking me, had me on the verge again….and then there was this glorious sensation welling up from my clitoris and expanding across my body sending the most incredible heat and contractions through my insides.

You were getting close too…you dropped my legs back kayseri escort on to the ground and laid your body on top of my, grasping my shoulders as if hanging on for dear life. You paused your quickening strokes only once to feel my legs and bring them up to wrap them around your back. As soon as I took my cue from you, you pumped faster and faster….harder and harder….the pressure on my insides was incredible….

And then we were both there, panting like sex-starved animals and howling with our mutual delight. As soon as we were able to come back to earth and catch our breaths after almost an hour of frantic lovemaking in the grass, we quickly got dressed and walked back to the truck.

We got many smiles as we stopped on the way home for drinks to quench our parched throats. It was no wonder….mother nature and the Water Way had left us with unexpected brands that showed the world our passion for each other. You see, we had dressed again, but had forgotten about the bits of grass in our hair and on our clothes, and it was evident by the grass and dirt stains in various places that we had taken delight in each others’ bodies very recently. The fact that both of us had that satiated smile didn’t help matters. I’m more than certain that a few very happy couples were inspired by our disheveled appearances to imitate our experience on the Water Way.

Until that magical repeat performance happens, I will always drive by that secluded spot on my way to work and smile as I enjoy my fond memories….

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

Note: All characters are 18 years of age or older.

Titchester Chronicles: The Tit-Tip Bar

“So do you fancy it?” asked Rachel again.

Sammie came back to earth with a bump and sighed. “Well I fancy it Rach, but I’m flat broke so unless you can come up with a venue or pub that doesn’t require money then I’m out until next payday,” and even then most of it will be gone, Sammie thought to herself gloomily.

Rachel looked crestfallen. “What a shitty state we are in. No blokes, no money and crap jobs,” she looked around the small flat the two girls shared. “Shit flat as well.”

“It is what it is babe,” shrugged Sammie.

It was two days later that Rachel accosted her friend as soon as Sammie got in from work. “Ok. Just hear me out,” as she sat Sammie down in the small kitchen, putting a cup of coffee in front of her.

“I’m not going to like this am I?” Sammie said eyeing Rachel suspiciously.

“Don’t be silly,” replied Rachel indignantly. “Okay maybe not at first but promise you’ll hear me out and think about it.”

“No.”

“Oh come on. When have I ever let you down?”

“Do I get my diary out and go through all the times?”

“Fucks sake Sammie,” Rachel was getting pissed. “I’m trying to help us both out here.”

Sammie felt a pang of guilt. They had been friends for years but were opposites. Rachael was a pocket-sized stunner with generous boobs and bum, short black hair, generous mouth and personality to match. Sammie was taller, with an elegant slim figure, long dark brown hair and a more conservative personality. Yin to Rachels yang. They shared two things. The same age and birthday, 24, 7th April, “almost twins,” Rachel always joked and deep friendship for each other.

“Go on, tell me,” said Sammie.

Rachel was instantly all smiles. “They’ve reopened the Fleet pub down Castle Street, as a Tit-Tip Bar and girls get to drink for free.”

“They do?”

“Absolutely,”

“And the catch is?” Sammie queried.

“No catch. Well okay, small catch you have to dress kind of sexy and flirt a bit with the guys there, you know get them to buy you drinks, that sort of thing.”

“That sort of thing?”

“Flatter them, be nice, maybe they squeeze your bum or something. You know, make them feel good. Should be fun and won’t cost us a thing!” finished Rachel with a flourish.

“Except our reputations,” said Sammie primly.

Rachel looked at her hard. “Babe. We’re not living in the 1900s, and you’re not that averse to flaunting it when it suits you. So how about we drop the attitude, put on our party gear and have some free fun this Friday night?”

Looking at her friend’s big wide eyes, Sammie burst out laughing. “Okay, we’ll give it a go. Can’t stand the idea of another night in, and it’s been a crap week at work.”

Rachel jumped up and hugged Sammie. “You’re the absolute best. Now tart yourself up, put on a little black party dress, dig out your stockings and heels and let’s go and have us some fun!”

The Tit-Tip Bar, Castle Street, Titchester

“Well, they have given the place a decent makeover but still, ” said Sammie dubiously as they entered.

The serving bar was rectangular and located in the middle with two guys and two girls working behind it. Women were dotted around the bar with small clusters of men surrounding them. High partitions divided the room up into smaller areas with enough room for 6 to 8 people. An excited hum charged the atmosphere. The bouncer at the door smiled at them.

“First time here ladies?” He asked.

Rachel nodded. Her eyes shining with curiosity and excitement.

“I’m Mike,” the bouncer introduced himself. “And if you see the girl over there behind the terminal, she’ll explain how it works and fix you up.”

Thanking him, Rachel dragged Sammie over to the girl Mike had pointed out. Her name tag said she was Naomi, late teens with a pinched thin face. An intent expression looked up at them as she pushed mousy hair from her face.

“First time?” She also asked. “Okay, this is a tip bar. First, you download our Tit-Tip app onto your phones. Stand there,” Naomi said to Rachel, taking a snap on her phone. “You okay with that?” Rachel’s image appeared on her terminal. “It’s okay I guess,” replied Rachel.

“Don’t worry, you can replace it later. You ladies downloaded the app yet?”

Sammie nodded.

“Right enter your name and bio. You can make it up if you like. If you also stand there,” Naomi took a snap of Sammie. “Now we sync up between the system and your phone. Just enter this code, Sammie,” instructed Naomi peering at her screen. “Great. Syncing. Yep, we’re synced.”

Naomi did the same for Rachel and continued. “Men buy tips on the app and 250 tips is worth £50. If they like the look of you, they may send you a single tip. Kind of like saying, hello. To do this, guys scroll down to find you on their app and send you a Tit-Tip or Tit-Tips. Its one, two, five then multiples of five thereafter,” she paused. “With me so far?”

Both girls nodded. Sammie, despite diyarbakır escort her initial reservations, was intrigued by the system. “Can I refuse a Tit-Tip?”

“Sure, you can do what you like, but remember, Tit-Tips are what pay for your evening. 25 tips is a large glass of wine which you redeem at the bar, assuming you don’t get a guy to buy you one anyway.”

“What if I don’t use up all my tips?” asked Rachel.

“You can transfer them to you Tit-Pay cash account which you can link to your bank or whatever. We do take a 15% commission on cash conversions, and minimum transfer is £15, which is 75 Tit-Tips.”

“So we get Tit-Tips by?” asked Sammie.

“That’s entirely up to you. Get as many or as little as you want and how you get them is your business and no one else’s. Have fun, go mad or sit and chat with your friend all night. It’s all cool.” Naomi’s finger was poised over the return key. “You want me to?”

Sammie and Rachel looked at each other. “Sounds like a laugh, babe,” smiled Rachel.

Naomi hit the return key and grinned. “Congratulations ladies you are now Tit-Tip girls. Your first drink of the evening is on the house as a reward for signing up to Tit-Tips!”

Sammie wasn’t sure what she was expecting as she gazed at her phone, but a big fat nothing wasn’t it. Rachel hooked her arm through hers as they walked to the bar. “Nothing on your phone yet?” She whispered to Sammie.

“Not a thing,” Sammie looked again at the counter showing zero. There was a space at the corner of the bar. Sammie looked around and was surprised to see how many middle-aged women there were. Bored housewives, she thought, judging by the short skirts and tight tops they were squeezed into. All the women were enjoying being the centre of attention. Arms were draped around them and bodies pressed against each other.

A young black girl with stunning legs and rear came to stand next to Sammie signalling to the bar staff. The girl flashed Sammie a smile as one of the bar staff came over.

“What can I get you ladies?” asked the bar girl.

“Oh, we aren’t together, and these two hunnies were here first,” the black girl said.

Sammie acknowledged this with a grateful smile. “We’ve just signed up, and we get a free drink I believe?”

The bar girl checked her handheld terminal and smiled. “Sammie and Rachel? You sure do, what will you have?”

“Two glasses of house white,”

“I’m Bianca,” the black girl said. “Welcome to the world of Tit-Tips.”

“Thanks, I’m Sammie.”

Rachel gave out a little shriek. “I just got a Tit-Tip!” She eagerly pressed accept. “It’s from Rob.”

“Who’s Rob?” Sammie asked with alarm. She was a little put out that Rachel had got their first one.

“How the fuck should I know?” replied Rachel.

“You can’t just accept them from men you don’t know. He might be a perv,” admonished Sammie.

Bianca laughed. “Oh, honey, they are all pervs in here. It’s whether they have means that counts. My advice. Go to settings and change it to ‘accept all tips’.” Everyone starts with good intentions, but after a while, it’s, ‘oh fuck it’, and you accept them all. It’s still your choice what you do after that.”

“Done!” Rachel announced taking Bianca’s advice. “Oh, he’s sent me two more and two from a Mike!” She looked around. Two guys in suits sitting in one of the partitions waved a greeting. Rachel smiled back and got another tip, “yep that’s Rob,” she said excitedly, looking at the photo on the screen.

“He’s coming over,” said Bianca.

Rob was in his thirties, average build, dark hair, and a friendly expression. “Hi, Rachel,” he said. “Not seen you in here before.”

“First time. Just checking it out.”

“Cool. Want us to get you a drink? Well, when you’ve finished that one.” he added.

“Sure,” she smiled.

“Hey, come over and meet Mike. He’s from out of town. Here on business.”

Rachel grabbed her purse, winked at Sammie and put some extra spin into her hip sway as she let Rob guide her to where he and Mike where stationed.

“Think your friend is going to fit right in here,” said Bianca. “Nice of her to introduce you,” she added with a little bite.

Sammie defended Rachel. “It’s just the way she is. It’s our dynamic.”

“Okay, babe. Makes no odds to me. Any nibbles yet?”

Sammie shrugged. “No. Can’t say I’m bothered either.”

“Yeah, sure,” smiled Bianca sipping her drink.

There was a small silence, and Sammie conceded. “Okay, I’m a little bothered.”

“I know,” said Bianca. She leaned down with her elbows on the bar, straightened her long legs and wriggled her rear. Her phone vibrated with a shower of tips from the group behind them. Bianca turned to the group of four men and a woman who looked familiar to Sammie. The woman was in her mid-fifties, stylish skirt suit, short dark hair and a lazy, almost decadent expression.

Bianca blew a kiss to them and purred: “You fancy joining us, Sammie?”

Sammie watched Rachel giggling and flirting edirne escort with the two men and then glanced at the ‘0’ on her phone. “Why not,” she said.

It was during the introductions that Sammie finally placed the woman. It was Chris May from McCraddock’s. Secretary to one of the partners. Banks, if she recalled. She noticed Chris was smiling at her.

“It’s Samantha Beechum, isn’t it?” Chris said, “you work at Pinners. Didn’t we just pinch your largest client?”

Sammie bristled but kept it civil. It had been a bad week at work and her boss Mr Pinner had been in an especially gloomy and foul mood.

“The silly old fucker Pinner should just retire,” said Chris. Before Sammie could respond, Bianca embraced Chris from behind and started to rub herself against the older woman whilst nibbling her ear. The four men cheered and urged the two women to ‘lez it up’.

Pursing her lips, Sammie guessed the two women would be getting a fair number of tips and not just from the four guys. Men were peering around the partition as Bianca cupped Chris’s tits and stuck her tongue in her mouth. Then Bianca caught her eye, and Sammie realised the girl had forestalled an argument between her and Chris.

One of the guys, Steve, pressed against her. “Not your style I guess.”

“On the contrary,” said Sammie coolly, and pushed herself between Chris and Bianca. She put her arm around the black girl and kissed her. That will teach these jerks she thought, and besides, she owed Bianca something for shutting that slutty cow up.

There was a roar of approval as a surprised Bianca murmured: “Babe,” and returned the kiss, her tongue coiling around Sammie’s.

Sammie felt her phone vibrate and stole a glance when she broke the kiss with Bianca. 25 Tit-Tips. Not bad exchange for a kiss with a hot girl. An enjoyable kiss at that. Bianca looked at her as Sammie pressed ‘accept’.

“Well?” Bianca challenged.

“Fuck it,” said Sammie and changed the setting to ‘accept all tips’. Time to enjoy her evening.

To her surprise, Sammie did enjoy herself. The guys kept the drinks flowing, the cost for which was to make out with Bianca, or to be accurate, Bianca largely making out with her by straddling her leg and rubbing herself off whilst necking either her or Chris, whose tits were more out of her top than in.

As the men become more boisterous, the intensity and heat began to build. Peter, the youngest, was now firmly attached to Chris as they ate each other, his hands wedged up her skirt. Mark and Zack had both wrapped their arms around Bianca and were whispering in her ear. Steve, who was in his forties with a lean build, stood close to Sammie as they chatted. He rested his hand on her leg as she sat on the stool beside him.

He had a calm, confident air that Sammie found attractive. She could feel his hardness against her leg. Ordinarily, she would have broken contact, but she could also feel her phone vibrate in her purse as every so often he would tap on his phone. Sammie now wanted Tit-Tips. Her competitive streak had kicked in. Sammie smiled and pressed her leg back against his hardness, put her hand over his, and got a kick every time he rewarded her.

“Hey Steve,” it was Mark. “We’re heading for the garden. You coming?”

“Not sure,” replied Steve. He looked at Sammie, who was wondering what the garden was. “What do you reckon?”

Sammie cautiously sipped the drink she had been nursing for a while. “Maybe,” she said.

She watched as Peter and Chris, still pawing at each other, made their way to the back of the pub. They were heading to a door through which people had been coming and going for most of the evening.

“Suit yourself,” shrugged Mark.

Bianca was doing one last check of her phone before putting it away, smiling like the cat that had got the cream. She wriggled her fingers at Sammie and went with the two men, following Peter and Chris.

“I haven’t seen Rachel in a while,” said Sammie stalling as she looked around.

“Your friend? She hit the garden a good 20 minutes ago with those two guys she hooked up with earlier,” replied Steve.

“Oh,” said Sammie. She took a larger sip of drink than she intended and coughed. Her eyes began to water.

Steve laughed but not unkindly.

“Look,” he said “Let’s cut to the chase. I like you, and you know that I like you,” he pressed against her more urgently with his hardness. “So we either sort something out and go through or you bail, no hard feelings. Well, some I guess,” he grinned as he took her hand and pressed it to his groin.

Sammie left her hand there and felt him. He was big. He was strong, and his confidence triggered her suppressed submissive streak.

“Okay,” she said.

“Okay, what?” His face was close to hers.”Okay, we can go through to the garden,” she said, kissing him.

Sammie got to her feet and desperately wanted to look at her phone as it vibrated again. He took her hand, and they walked to the garden. She sneaked a look. Steve edirne escort bayan had just sent her 500 Tit-Tips. She already had 140.

Sammie had never been so horny in her life.

The Garden

It was dimly lit with ambient green lighting creating a garden effect, with plastic green vines and gaudy pink flowers covering latticed partitions. Sammie stumbled as Steve led her through an artificial passageway, her eyes trying to distinguish the intertwined bodies in various states of undress occupying the alcoves. Her ears picked up more than her eyes. The moans, the gasps, the charged, urgent voices and the sound of flesh slapping on flesh. The air was perfumed, masking but not eliminating, the scent of sex.

Sammie spotted Rachel squatting over a prone man, her generous white arse bouncing happily on his cock. Rob, she presumed. His friend was waving his cock in Rachel’s face, whilst being careful not to spill his drink.

Suddenly Steve pulled her into an empty slot, leaning them both against the plastic bench that ran along the back wall. Sammie gasped as he kissed her hard, his hands gripping and squeezing her bum. A panicked thought crossed her mind as she kissed him back. What was he expecting for 500 Tit-Tips? Oh god, that’s £100! His hand slipped into her lacy panties probing her wetness.

“Damn girl you’re on heat down there,” he grinned, spinning her around and grinding his hardness into her arse.

“I do appreciate the tips, oh god,” moaned Sammie as he penetrated her with his fingers. She felt her knickers being pulled down and then he roughly span her back round again to kiss her. His strong fingers rammed in her cunt, her knickers twisted around her calves.

“Steve,” she tried again, breaking free from the kiss.

He grinned, his eyes steeped in lust. Sammie felt his hand on her shoulder, pushing her down. Feeble protests died in her throat as she looked down to see his erect cock peering up at her. She made a sudden calculation that a blow job may just do the trick and sank to her knees.

“Going to stick my cock in that posh mouth of yours,” he said, licking his lips.

Sammie rested her hands on his thighs and silently took his cock into her mouth. He tasted fresh and male. His pre-cum had a pleasant tang, and Sammie started to move up and down, determined to give him the best blow job she could. Her tongue slid over and round his bulbous head. Some men had cocks that were ideal for sucking. Nicely proportioned. Steve had such a cock.

Warming to her task Sammie worked on his shaft, running her tongue up and down and dipping the tip into his tiny piss slit.

“Oh fuck yeah, stick your tongue inside my dick,” he panted.

Sammie kissed and teased the end and then took it fully into her mouth, forcing it to the back of her throat several times, deliberately gagging and allowing a bridge of drool to form as she withdrew it.

“You like that babe?” Sammie said throatily, giving him the eye.

“Fuck yeah!” He bunched his fist in her hair and forced her back down. “Choke on my cock, you dirty bitch.”

Struggling for breath, Sammie let him take control, hoping that this would trigger his climax. She had never let her mouth be used like this before but then she had never been paid for sex before or had sex in public before so tonight was a night of firsts.

Just as Sammie was getting dizzy, he gave a final grunt and his sperm slid straight down her throat. Sammie spluttered and coughed, eyes streaming and her nose running as his semen warmed her insides.

“Christ. That was some face fuck, Sammie,” he said as she lay at his feet gasping.

After a few moments, Sammie levered herself to her feet and took a tissue out of her purse. She dabbed ineffectually at the smeary mess on her face.

“Let me,” offered Steve.

He took the tissues and cleaned her up, even getting her to blow her nose, which he then kissed after she was done. The gesture made her smile. “Silly,” she said.

Steven gathered in his arms and squeezed her. “That was one of the best blow jobs I’ve ever had.”

Despite herself, Sammie felt a glow of pride. She hooked his arms around her and turned to face the front of the latticed alcove. Bianca was directly ahead in the alcove opposite. Sammie recalled seeing a man earlier, bare arsed, trousers round his ankles, fucking some unseen girl. It must have been Bianca, she thought. This time the man, or his friend, was sitting on the bench making Bianca do the work. She was holding on to the lattice posts, long elegant legs bent and splayed, her 36c’s bouncing up and down as she fucked the guy. Zack, Sammie guessed as Mark was watching. At that moment, Mark looked across, gave her a thumb’s up and a soppy grin.

“That looks fun,” said Steve also watching Bianca. Sammie felt his cock hardening against her.

“Yes,” she replied neutrally.

Mark was indicating to Steve to pull the top of Sammie’s dress down. Steve did, exposing her breasts. He trapped the hard nub of her nipple and caressed it. Mark grabbed his semi-erect cock and made an obscene gesture at them.

Sammie remained passive.

Reading the moment, Steve turned her to face him. He kissed and teased her nipple with his tongue, whilst fumbling in his pocket. He withdrew something, placed it in her hand and folded her fist over it.

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

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

Chapter III: A Kellog Serial

“Hi, guys and gals,” Cindy said into the video camera. From the background behind her, it was apparent that she was sitting in a car. “It’s me again. Time for our next update. Thanks for checking in.

“For those of you who are bidding, thank you and keep up the good work. But we’re not even halfway where we need to be. I figure that if things don’t improve by the end of this week, I’ll probably have to call it off. No point in keeping this up, if it ain’t gonna happen, y’know?

“Anyway, some of you emailed that were still unconvinced that this isn’t some sort of sham. Well, the only other thing I could think of doing to convince you, is to bring you along with me to school. So here we are. I’m not going to name the school, ‘cuz I got a lot of hate mail, too, and I don’t want any stalkers coming after me, but I figure you can meet some of my friends who know what I’m doing, and why I’m doing it. Ready? Let’s go!

“Oh, by the way, before we head off, some of you were wondering who was operating the video camera last time. I’m afraid I can’t tell you that because I promised I wouldn’t. Those of you who know me, can probably guess, though. I can tell you, that it wasn’t a boyfriend. Like I may have said, I don’t really have one right now, and if I did, I can bet you he wouldn’t put up with this!

“Okay, now let’s go.” Cindy opened the car door, and the video camera image rocked and jostled, capturing the asphalt paved parking lot. Since she was no longer in the frame, it was clear that she was taking the video by herself. As she walked onto campus, she was careful to avoid taking pictures of peoples faces.

“Hiya, Cindy!”, “Hey, Cin!”, “Hey, Babe!” and “Slut!” were but a few of the voices that could be heard on the video camera as they walked down a corridor, finally slipping into the open door of a classroom. Carefully placed on the ground, in a clear plastic book bag adorned with pink flowers, the camera captured the first few moments of the classroom lecture, before being shut off remotely.

When the camera cut back in, only Cindy and a few of her friends were left in the otherwise empty classroom. “Okay, that was my first class. Science. Yuck. But now, it’s lunchtime, and I’m here at school with some friends of mine who agreed to be on tape.” The camera panned the group of teenagers. They were all smiling and eager to be on camera. It was a small group of 3 girls and 2 boys, not including Cindy.

“These girls are on the Prom committee, and these two guys are classmates of mine since grade school. They are here to verify that this is completely legit, and that to their knowledge, and by reputation, I have never had sex with a boy.”

The gathering of kids all nodded, smiling at the camera. “Yup, it’s true,” “That’s right,” “Uh-huh,” they all said at once, speaking over each other.

One of the girls spoke up. “I’m the head of the Prom Committee. And it’s true. Cindy is doing this so we can all have a nice senior prom. She doesn’t sleep around. She promised her dad. I’ve known her since Freshman year, and she’s smart, and funny, and one of the nicest girls on campus, but she hasn’t had a steady boyfriend that I know of. I feel kinda strange begging you to bid on my friend, but she says its okay, and that she wants to do it, and I can’t think of a braver thing to do. She’s my hero.”

“She’s totally hot, too!” one of the boys yelled out from the back.

“Okay, okay, that’s enough.” Cindy interrupted. “I better not have found out that you bid!” she joked, pointing a finger at her friend in the back. “And it’s not just because I know you’re flat broke!” she added.

Just then, the door opened. The group of kids scattered noisily for the exits like cockroaches desperately looking for cover.

“All right, what’s going on in here. Cindy?” came a stern female voice.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Cindy, I’d like to have a word with you. The rest of you can get,” she said to no one in particular, as everyone else was already cleared out through the door.

Cindy approached the teacher’s desk at the front corner of the room. “Is that thing on?” the teacher asked. Cindy looked down at the camera in her hand. She was so taken aback by being caught that she had completely forgotten about it.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Wait. Don’t turn it off, yet. I want to tell you and your little audience something.” The camera pointed at her stern face. “Cindy, there are rumors going around that you’re offering to sell yourself in order for your classmates to have a senior prom. Is that true?”

“Well, I . . .”

“Look. I think it’s commendable that you’re trying to help. I also think it’s admirable that you’ve decided to honor your promise to your father not to have sex until you’re ready. You’re 18 and I can’t stop you from doing anything you want to do on your own time. I just want you to promise me one thing. That you’ll stop this if you decide you don’t want to go through with it. We can always find another way to raise the money. bursa escort Okay?”

“Yes ma’am. I promise.”

“And one more thing, I’m going to give you my cell phone number. I will be chaperoning the dance. If you get into trouble, you call me, okay?” she asked sternly.

“I will. Thank you,” she said quietly.

“Okay, and for your viewers, you should know that if you hurt this young lady, or force her to do something she doesn’t want to do, I WILL come looking for you.”

“Thanks again,” Cindy mumbled, impressed by her teacher’s forthright approach. As she took the phone number from her teacher’s hand, she looked up and was surprised to see her teacher staring straight into her eyes, boring a hole in her skull. But it wasn’t a look of consternation, disappointment or pity. It was a non-judgmental look of genuine concern. In that same instant she realized that her teacher really cared about her. Not just as a student, but as a person. Almost like an equal. She was deeply affected by this. Without thinking, Cindy leaned over and kissed her teacher appreciatively on the cheek. She smelled wonderful. Her perfume was soft and feminine, even though her outer demeanor was always so hard and strict. She wondered why she hadn’t noticed her teacher’s feminine side before. She was so pretty, and her skin was so soft. Cindy slowly leaned in close again and turned her chin into her teacher’s neck, taking in another whiff of sweet perfume and admiring up close how she applied her minimal make up to such great effect.

After a few moments, Cindy jolted back to reality. — What was I doing? — She had never had any sexual feelings towards other girls before, and she wasn’t even sure that she was having them now. — Is that what I’m feeling? — As she withdrew, she brushed her cheek against her teacher’s, wanting to explore her feelings a little more. To Cindy’s surprise, her teacher didn’t move away. But she didn’t encourage her, either. She just allowed Cindy to explore her newly awakening feelings a little. It was like she knew what Cindy needed to do, and she let her do it, without judging.

All at once, Cindy realized what was happening. Her teacher knew her better than she knew herself, and her teacher really cared about her in a way she had only thought that her real parents could. Overcome with a swell of emotions — love, sex, curiosity, respect, admiration, shame, and her first taste of adult wisdom — Cindy paused, not knowing what to do next. — If I leaned in, she would probably let me kiss her on the lips — NO! That’s wrong! — Does she want me to? — What if I never get another chance? — Don’t push it — But I really want to know more! — Confused and a little ashamed and embarrassed, Cindy finally turned away. She stuffed the emergency telephone number into her transparent book bag, and hurriedly left the room, nervous and shaking.

Once outside, Cindy caught up to her small group of friends. After explaining what had happened — well, most of what happened, she left out the part about the kiss — Cindy and her best friend, Dana, went off to their next class, gym. Technically, it was Gymnastics III, a class reserved for cheerleaders. As a senior, Cindy had already taken basic P.E. in her freshman year. Gym II was for the JV squad, and Gym III was for the varsity. Gymnastics IV and V were for the true gymnasts.

When they approached the locker room, a group of boys walked up to them and verbally accosted Cindy, calling her rude names and urging her and her friend to take them all on. They had obviously seen her website. For the first time, Cindy was panicked. She expected the occasional rude comment, but she hadn’t truly figured on getting assaulted and gang raped.

But then, just as suddenly, a group of junior and senior basketball and football jocks came to her rescue, bursting into the circle and pinning the other boys up against the red brick wall outside the locker rooms. Forcing them to apologize, and promise not to bother Cindy or her friends again, the jocks gave the aggressors a few bruises in hidden locations, as a not-so-gentle reminder and warning of what would happen if there were any further complaints about their behavior.

Cindy thanked them, and quickly turned heel with Dana, leaving the scene before a teacher turned up. Once safely inside the girls’ locker room, Cindy and Dana tucked the video camera in Dana’s locker — in case any teacher came looking around — and changed into their practice uniforms, which were essentially the performance uniforms from three seasons ago. The girls left for practice, leaving the video camera behind. At least, that was what Cindy thought. Unbeknownst to Cindy, Dana had given instructions to a friend to remove the camera from her locker and take a few surreptitious pictures of Cindy at cheer practice.

Dana knew that Cindy didn’t want to reveal that she was on the cheer squad. She was afraid that if it became public, no one would take her claim of chastity seriously. çanakkale escort But Dana disagreed. She was of the opinion that there was nothing more tempting to the pervs browsing the web than a chance to boff a cute virgin cheerleader.

Unfortunately, Cindy wasn’t on her best game. She was confused and awkward at practice, turning the wrong way and forgetting the words to even the most practiced cheers. She was distracted, still thinking about her unexplored sexual feelings toward another woman. And being around all these cute, peppy girls in short pleated skirts and cheer panties (some were still wearing their regular underwear), wasn’t helping. She found herself peering at her classmates’ necks, arms, breasts, asses and legs. She stared at their perfectly made up eyes and lips, and wondered what it would be like to kiss them. She knew that some of them were bi-sexual, and that some of them were more sexually adventurous than others. She wished that she hadn’t shied away from the last post-game party after the win over their cross-town rivals that she heard had quickly turned into a large group orgy with some of the stars on the basketball team.

The faculty cheer advisor pulled her aside and Cindy lied, telling her that she was having abnormal cramps. Concerned, but skeptical, the advisor sent Cindy to the school nurse, and told Dana to accompany her, both to watch over her, and to make sure that she actually went.

“What’s going on?” Dana asked, in a hushed whisper as they walked back to the locker room to change. Cindy hesitated. Even though Dana was her best friend, and Cindy knew that Dana was no stranger to “partying” with both sexes, Cindy was reluctant to share her sexual confusion.

“Were you bothered by those boys before practice? You know that the jocks would never let anything happen to you. You’re like a folk hero on campus.”

“No, it’s not that,” Cindy said, getting more and more quiet.

“Did you see Janet taking videos of you during practice? I’m sorry, but I thought that it would really help boost the bids. C’mon! You’re a cheerleader! Guys love cheerleaders!”

Cindy glared at her. “What?! I told you no!”

“I know! I’m sorry! But c’mon! You’re one the sexiest girls on the team! The other girls are all jealous of you. You got it all, baby! Just because you’re a cheerleader doesn’t mean you’re loose!”

“You are!” Cindy lashed out. She didn’t intend to land such a harsh blow, but she was inwardly jealous of her best friend’s sexual freedom. She started to sob.

“Hey, hey, hey, what’s the matter? What’s going on?” Dana asked, immediately dropping her defenses and her ready retort as soon as she saw that her friend was hurting. She knew that whatever was bothering her, it wasn’t Dana’s deception with the camera. “It’s okay, it’s okay, you don’t have to tell me what’s going on, but tell me, are you okay?”

Dana’s mature response caught Cindy off guard. It was almost like . . .

“I’m okay,” Cindy answered, sniffling intermittently. She had stopped crying. “Thanks. I’m sorry for what I said.”

“It’s okay. I know you didn’t mean it. Come on, let’s get you out of here.” Dana steered Cindy into the empty locker room with her arm around her shoulder.

Once inside, they sat down on the wooden bench separating their lockers. Dana could tell that Cindy was troubled, and that she wanted to share with her, but was holding back. She hoped that she hadn’t lost Cindy’s trust over her little camera stunt.

“Dana?” she asked hesitantly. “Can I tell you something?”

“Of course. You can tell me anything.”

“Thanks.” Cindy already knew it was true, but it felt good hearing it before she confessed her growing confusion over her sexual identity. Cindy launched into her story, starting with the compulsive kiss on the cheek that she gave their teacher, and ending up with her insuppressible fascination with the other girls.

“It’s okay,” Dana reassured her, taking hold of her hands and stroking them with her thumbs. “You’re confused. You feel guilty, maybe a little embarrassed, ashamed. We all went through it the first time…”

“The first time…?” Cindy interrupted.

“Well, yeah.” Dana blushed. “Listen, you know that I’ve experimented with other girls, right?” As she said it, she instantly understood why Cindy had been so angry with her earlier. Cindy was staring at her, listening intently.

Cindy nodded. — She’s ready, Dana knew.

“The first time was at my 18th birthday party. You were there, but Janet and I were in the kitchen getting some drinks, and it just kinda happened. We started kissing and it was soo hot. She came back after the party was over, and we had sex in my bedroom. It was so fucking amazing.”

“Janet?” Cindy gawked. She had never suspected.

“Yeah, but don’t say anything, she’s very careful with her reputation.” Cindy nodded. “She was my first, and I know that you don’t think that there’s anything wrong with me, just because I tried it a few times, çankırı escort do you?” Cindy shook her head, face lowered, ashamed at being caught judging her best friend.

“It’s natural, okay? Just because you’re curious, doesn’t make you a lesbian. In fact, from watching your videos on your website, I can tell you that you’re probably the straightest girl on campus! I’ve never known anyone who needs dick as much as you do!” she joked. Cindy chortled involuntarily.

Meanwhile, as the two girls were soothing each others’ egos, Janet had silently snuck back into the locker room, intending to slip the camera back into Dana’s locker before Cindy noticed it was missing. But, seeing the two girls consoling themselves, and knowing what a cunt hound Dana was, Janet turned on the videocamera and focused on the pair while hiding behind an adjacent row of metal lockers.

“Listen,” Dana continued, taking Cindy’s hands again, this time in a demonstration of intimacy. “There’s no one else around, and you know I won’t tell anyone. Do you want to kiss me?”

Cindy raised her head, and silently looked into Dana’s eyes. They weren’t judgmental. Instead, they were open, and welcoming. Dana saw Cindy’s eyes move to her thin lips, then back to meet her unflinching eyes. She’s so beautiful, Cindy realized.

“Yes,” she said softly, in a voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m glad,” Dana whispered back, bringing Cindy’s hands up to her mouth, and softly kissing the back of her hand. Cindy’s breath caught in her throat. Closing her eyes, she leaned forward, her lips lightly wetted and parted in anticipation.

But instead of meeting Dana’s lips, Cindy had her breath taken away again, as she felt Dana’s cheek softly caressing her own. She smelled Dana’s playful perfume on her neck and inhaled deeply, as Dana’s long brown hair danced across her face.

Dana turned her face into Cindy’s cheek and kissed her lightly, before turning back again, allowing Cindy to get used to the sense of intimacy. To her surprise, it didn’t take long. As soon as she turned away, Cindy copied her move and kissed her on the cheek.

Releasing Cindy’s hands, Dana planted her palms flat on the bench on either side of Cindy, leaning into her heavily as a show of dominance. Cindy allowed Dana to push up against her, and instinctively reached out to wrap her arms around Dana’s back, only partially for support. Leaning backwards slightly, Cindy maneuvered her face into the nape of Dana’s neck and kissed her assertively, using her tongue to lick her best friend’s salty skin.

This time, it was Dana who was playing copy-cat. Dana kissed and nibbled at Cindy’s long neck, ear and cheek, working her way backwards until they were separated, gazing into each others’ lust-glazed eyes across a distance of less then four inches.

Breathing heavily, they moved together silently, mouths open and eyes closed. They kissed with the heat, passion, and confidence of long-lost lovers, not with the giggling, tentative awkwardness of curious teenagers. Warm, wet mouths opened and closed against each other. During the latest of their open mouth kisses, Cindy’s soft lips caught glimpses of Dana’s eager tongue experimentally sliding up against her lower lip and white teeth, growing bolder as time passed without sign of resistance or complaint.

By now, Cindy was so charged up, not just by the idea of finally experimenting with a little girl-on-girl action, but with the prospect of having a sexual encounter with another person, and not just in her bedroom with her hand, or with a toy, that she was eager to please, and be pleased in return. During their next kiss, Cindy tilted her head to the side and reached around the back of Dana’s head, pressing her face tightly against her own. She opened her mouth wide, forcing Dana’s open as well, and more tentatively than she had intended, slipped her tongue inside Dana’s mouth.

Dana’s heart leapt. She had begun to doubt her first assessment that Cindy was ready for a girl-on-girl encounter. She had struggled to restrain herself. She didn’t want to be over-aggressive and scare Cindy off. Instead, Dana let the very tip of her tongue reach out and greet Cindy’s. Cindy nervously jerked her tongue backwards, but quickly extended it again. She was glad when Dana began to take a more assertive role, sticking out her own tongue and inviting Cindy to play by slowly flicking it against hers.

As though reading each other’s mind, they each withdrew their tongues and open mouth kissed again, more wantonly and forcefully than before. Their tongues snaked out again, sliding against the others’ in a give-and-take exchange as they explored each other’s mouths. Unable to control herself, Dana slid her hand up Cindy’s flat stomach, bringing it to rest between Cindy’s perky tits. To her pleasant surprise, Cindy cupped her hand over Dana’s and moved it over her right breast while they continued kissing.

Dana gently stroked Cindy’s breast through the heavy polyester fabric of her cheer uniform, causing Cindy to kiss her with ever growing intensity. Dana squeezed Cindy’s small, firm breast, and Cindy broke the kiss, gently throwing her head back. Cindy couldn’t believe how good it felt to finally be touched sexually. — Oh gawd, yes — she thought, melting at Dana’s touch.

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

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

This story is the sequel to my recently submitted poem, “Backyard Thrill.” The poem retells the true story of the night I got up the nerve to go naked in my backyard, at two in the morning. That really did happen, but this story is about what might have happened if I’d been watched that night by a neighbor.

This is a collaboration, and is told from the perspective of Flubber, as he observes his neighbor venturing boldly into her backyard, eventually with nary a stitch on.

The New Neighbor
By Bobbie Kaye (Cutie) she was standing there in her underwear!

I was stunned that anyone would step outside their home in such a state, even if it was at a time of night that under most circumstances she would never be caught. I figured maybe she’d left something on the deck, possibly her glasses or the phone, and had decided to slip quickly outside and retrieve them, knowing there was virtually no chance of being seen at this hour.

However, I knew my assumption was wrong. She didn’t seem to be in any hurry to get back inside. I watched her closely as she unhitched a little gate and stepped off the porch and into the grass. She paused for a second, as if to savor the sensation of the grass against her bare feet.

She began to move slowly about her yard. She glanced toward my window a few times, and at first I was afraid she’d seen me. For some reason I felt ashamed and embarrassed to be spying on her, even though it was she who had decided to parade around her backyard in nothing but her dainties.

I didn’t budge from my position, and she seemed satisfied she was not being observed. She wandered over to another gate, this leading to a driveway on the opposite side of the yard from the boundary that our two places shared. She scanned the area and must have felt assured that there were no witnesses on that side, either, as she calmly turned and walked across the yard toward a tree near the back of her yard.

I watched as she plucked a piece of fruit; it could have been a lemon, though it was hard to tell from my viewpoint. She seemed to take a long pause to inhale its scent. Her eyes were now closed, and the look on her face was one of peace and contentment.

I watched her standing there for what seemed an eternity, but was in reality only moments. Suddenly her eyes opened flew open, as if coming to a realization of where she was, and how she was dressed. I would swear to this day that, even at that distance, I could see her face turn red with a deep sense of embarrassment at her predicament. My eyes glued to the scene, I followed her lithe form intently as she dashed across the yard and back up the steps to her deck.

I thought I’d possibly been witness to someone who’d been sleepwalking. It would explain her being in her çorum escort bedroom attire, as well as her wandering around her backyard so nonchalantly; that something had pulled her out of her trance when she sniffed the fruit, bringing her back into the waking world, one where she found herself standing in her backyard, dressed in her lacey lingerie, and on view to anyone who might be watching. It would give her good reason suddenly to be embarrassed, and to run for the safety of her home.

Unexpectedly, however, once back on her deck, she did not rush inside to the safe confines of her home, but instead stood there as if listening to the night. There was not a sound present, except for the beating of my heart, which for some reason had grown louder and more rapid since my gaze had first fallen upon her. I watched as she brought her hands up, which I thought were going to pull open the door, allowing her to disappear. My all too brief opportunity would be over.

Instead, she did something that I will never forget. Her hands unhooked her bra, allowing it to fall unhindered to the deck! I could see her standing there with her chest on display. I had seen woman of all shapes and sizes, but seeing her there, her small breasts with nipples so taut and pink against her creamy white skin, was the most stimulating thing I had ever witnessed.

I couldn’t believe what I was witnessing. Was I dreaming? I thought I was awake, but had I actually fallen asleep, and was I having some sort of wet dream? It had been years since I’d been with a woman, and more than two weeks since I’d touched myself in that manner due to all the preparation for my move. I couldn’t remember going that long without doing so, at least not since college when sharing a dorm room made it difficult at best to find any private time. That had to be it. I was horny, and this was all just my imagination.

But my imagination had never conjured up a woman like her before, and it certainly felt like I was standing there at the window, my member rapidly swelling at the sight before me. Without any conscious effort, my right hand had found its perch and slowly began sliding up and down the hardening flesh.

I was so engrossed in my own thoughts that I almost missed the fact that my mystery woman had started moving again. She stepped through her gate and back down to the grass. Her hands were at her side, although she acted as though she wanted nothing more than to bring them up to cover her delectable little breasts. As she walked, she glanced both in the direction of the other driveway as well as toward my window. I froze in mid-stroke, hoping she did not discern my movements, giving her reason abruptly to end her nighttime adventure.

She either didn’t denizli escort notice, or didn’t care. She wandered back to her deck, this time seeming much less hesitant. Her nipples were standing out proudly from her small, pert breasts, and she seemed to have a look about her that was a mixture not only of nervousness and excitement, but also arousal.

I couldn’t blame her. I was aroused too. I was fully erect, all six inches. Hell, I’d swear at that moment I was at my biggest ever, possibly adding another half inch, and thicker around, too. My right arm was moving rapidly now, despite being exhausted from its earlier physical workout during the move. My left was against the window frame, trying to steady myself. My strokes were getting faster and the pre-cum was flowing freely. My hand was alternating between a series of short, quick strokes, and then a few long, slow ones, stopping only for the occasional fondling of my balls as I could feel the churning of juices inside, waiting to be freed.

If I thought my voyeuristic opportunity had reached its peak, I was quite mistaken. As I continued to watch her, a look of resolve came across her face, as though she’d made a decision about something. Before I knew it, she slipped her fingers into the waistband of her panties and they quickly joined her bra on the deck!

I was so stunned that I stopped stroking. It was a good thing, because even without any physical stimulation, it took all my willpower not to cum from the mere visual stimuli I was laying witness to.

I could now see the whole package, and a fine package it was. She was slender, with a tiny bust and smooth, youthful skin. I watched as she went back down the steps and into the center of her yard. I hadn’t noticed until then, there having been far too many other areas to attract my gaze, but she was carrying an iPod. I watched as she operated the unit, obviously searching for a particular song.

She began dancing right there in her backyard, completely naked! Her eyes were closed and she seemed to be totally lost in the music. It was so erotic, so sensual, and the effect on her was highly evident. As she moved and swayed, my hand continued its assault upon my flesh. I could feel the beginnings of what I knew was going to be a powerful orgasm. I kept drawing it closer then backing off, building my arousal without quite getting there. I knew this would only add to the intensity once I finally burst.

The woman stopped dancing, possibly when the song ended, and her eyes opened again. There was a look of fright as she came to the realization that she was naked in her backyard. She made an immediate dash for her house, leaving little doubt that she intended to find her way inside this time. düzce escort She never even stopped to retrieve her undergarments as she flew across the deck and into her home. She was in a hurry, as though she were desperate for something, and I felt it wasn’t just to get out of the view of any prying eyes. I knew she needed what I needed, and needed it now!

My last glimpse of her was of her bare bottom passing through the doorway, and then the door shutting behind it. I imagined where she was going, and what she was so eager to do. My hand was a blur now. I needed to cum; I had to cum!

I arched forward as I continued my strokes, preparing to ejaculate. The very tip of my penis slipped between the gap in the curtains, and came in contact with the cool glass of the window, leaving a trail of pre cum as it slid along. The sensation was so unexpected and overwhelming it triggered my release. Weeks of pent up frustration left my body in multiple streams of thick, ropy strands. All I could do was stand there with my eyes closed, envisioning her dancing there in her backyard.

After several seconds (that felt like hours), I staggered back and fell onto the bed, exhausted beyond belief. The physical strains of the move, combined with what I had just done, were more than my body could take. I felt more tired and ready for sleep than I had ever felt in my life. I could only smile as I thought to myself that I had finally found a way to get to sleep, and drifted off into a deep slumber. The last thing that entered my mind was the impression that somewhere I could hear a woman whimpering.

***

I awoke the next morning, greeted by the sun filtering through the gap in the curtains. It was bright, and I had to squint until my eyes adjusted to the intense light. I looked toward the alarm clock and saw that it was well past noon. I never slept this late! Then it all started coming back to me. The gap in the curtains, the woman at first in her bra and panties, and then nude, watching her dancing in the night as naked as the day she was born.

I knew it had to have been a dream. I hoped not, but I knew nothing like that happens in real life, only in fantasies. I got up and jumped into the shower, avoiding looking out the window. I wanted my illusion to last for at least a little while longer. I knew when those curtains parted, I’d see in that yard some little old lady tending to her flowers, or some three hundred pound man camped out in a lawn chair, rapidly working his way through a twelve-pack of beer.

After puttering around, I could put it off no longer. I had to prove to myself that it had all been a dream. I made my way over to the window and took a deep breath, parting the curtains. And there was all the evidence I needed before me; the splatter after splatter of dried semen on the window. Then I glanced down at my mystery woman’s yard, and saw the discarded bra and panties lying on her deck, exactly where she’d left them the night before. It was at that moment I told myself, “Fantasies can come true.”

The end

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“I’m pretty sure I saw you in the park the other day,” I wrote after Chrissy and I matched on a dating site.

She responded with “ohhhh?” and a blushing emoji. “What did you see?”

And suddenly I was very, very curious. What HAD I seen? I had seen a red-headed beauty dressed in black pants, a dark blue sweater, a black jacket, with earphones in and her phone in her hand. Maybe she’d been swiping on Tinder at that very moment. From what I could tell it looked like she had some lovely curves beneath that gray sweater.

“What did I see?” I wrote. “I saw an incredibly gorgeous red-head looking at her phone and listening to music. I saw someone I wish I had sat next to and said hello to.”

“LOL soooo glad you didn’t sit down next to me,” she replied.

“Aw, what? Why?”

“Oh, not you hunny. You’re a handsome devil,” she wrote. “It’s just that I wasn’t listening to music. I wouldn’t have wanted you to hear what was in my ears. Or see what was on my screen!!!!”

“Now I NEED to know what you were looking at lol”

“I don’t want you to judge me,” she typed.

“No judgments here! I’m all sorts of open-minded :)”

“Promise?” with a winky face.

“Cross my heart and hope to die,” I wrote, with my heart beating hard.

“Okaaaaaaay. But you promised… I was watching porn.”

“Whoa, that’s hottttt. What made you watch porn on a park bench out in the open?”

“I dunno. Sometimes I just get horny and want to play. Can’t help myself.”

“Wait… did you… you know?”

“Maaaaaaybe 🙂 Is that bad? You’re judging me, aren’t you?”

“No way. I think that’s fucking hot. Are you serious? You’re just messing with me, right?”

“Haha I wish I was messing with you, I wouldn’t be so embarrassed right now.”

“Don’t be embarrassed. AT ALL. I just wish I had stuck around to watch. How in the world did you pull that off?”

The dots appeared. Then disappeared. Then appeared again. I held my breath.

“Why don’t you stop and watch next time and you’ll see how I pulled it off,” she wrote.

“I would LOVE to. When and where and I’ll be there.”

* * * * * * * *

At three o’clock the next afternoon I walked the same path I had walked a handful of days earlier. The bench was empty, and I was sure Chrissy had been toying with me the whole time. I kept walking to the end of the path where it hit the tennis courts, then turned back around for one more sweep. As I approached bayburt escort the opening where I could view the bench I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket.

“Where are you?”

I stopped behind a giant tree whose trunk had split leaving a gap just about eye level and saw Chrissy sitting in the middle of the green bench. She was wearing a black coat cinched at the waist, her red hair sat about her shoulders in layers, and she wore a gray mask covering her mouth and nose. I saw a hint of gray at her chest where the coat sat slightly open.

“I see you,” I wrote.

“Where are you I can’t see you” she wrote.

“Don’t want you to know where I am. Don’t want you playing to me. I want you to go as if I’m not here. Just know I’m watching.

“How do I know you’re really here tho? What if I’m out here by myself like an idiot?”

“I want to know what’s under that coat.” I answered as proof. “I think I see a gray top. And your mask is probably a good idea in case anyone else sees :)”

Her phone was in her left hand, and as I saw her looking down at it, she took her right hand and pulled the lapel of her coat aside slightly, as if she was distracted and absent-mindedly moving her hand around. She was good. Underneath she wore a gray sweater, but beyond that I couldn’t tell any more.

“What do you see?” she asked.

“Ribbed gray sweater. It’s hot seeing you work, knowing I’m watching but also pretending to other people you don’t know what you’re doing.”

“Are there people watching me?”

“I hope so,” I wrote. “But I don’t see anybody. No more now. I want you to just go without me. Recreate the other day.”

“It won’t be exactly like the other day. I know you’re there watching. And that’s making me extremely wet. But ok.”

Her fingers moved across her phone, but no dots appeared on my screen, and I guessed that she was beginning to look for porn. My heart was beating hard against my chest, and I wondered about Chrissy’s ability to appear so calm and still. I imagined I would’ve been trembling from nerves had I been in her place.

Chrissy still held her phone in her left hand, and her right was still at the collar of her coat from when she had teased it open for me to see her gray sweater. Now she moved it so it was inside the coat and resting above her left breast. She seemed to be staring intently at her phone, never lifting her head to see if anybody was nearby. bilecik escort I watched her fingers spread, her pinky beginning to move circularly. I imagined her nipple stiffening against her finger.

She slid her hand between her breasts, then lowered it slowly, pushing down the belt of her coat and exposing more of the sweater. She then pulled the coat to the right so that both of her breasts were now framed by each lapel. Her hand slid across her stomach, then up between her breasts, then cupped her left breast. Chrissy squeezed, tightening the fabric across her tits, making it clear she wasn’t wearing anything underneath her sweater, her nipples pushing outward.

Just then I saw an elderly couple emerge on the path just behind Chrissy’s bench. I watched nervously as they walked around the left side of the bench then circle in front of Chrissy just as her middle finger was circling against her left nipple. Her eyes shot upward and widened in surprise, and I saw her bite her lip, smile, and scan the area for my watching eyes or that of anyone else who might be aware of her.

But the entire time her hand never dropped from her breast, and now her middle finger began again running circles around her nipple. Her commitment and daring were inspiring an involuntary response from my body.

Her eyes returned to her phone. Chrissy slid her right hand down from her breasts, over her stomach, before it then disappeared below her coat. I watched as her knees parted slightly. I was dying to know what she wore beneath.

If I had come across her not knowing what she was up to (as I had just the week before) I don’t think I would have had an inkling. She had angled her arm just so, her right elbow out so there was no knowing exactly how far middle her right hand had gone downward. But I knew. I knew not just from the anticipation but also from the flush of her face, the focus of her eyes on the phone, the slight, slight bounce of her elbow.

I wanted badly to text her; ask her what she was watching; what she was thinking; how she felt knowing I was watching; to let her know I was hard; ask if she wanted me to sit next to her; ask her if she wanted me to finger her. Instead I stayed immobile, rooted to the ground behind the giant tree.

Chrissy’s movement became more noticeable, her arm moving more up and down now. Her butt slid forward slightly, her body slouched a little lower. She lifted bingöl escort her head and scanned the pathway where I stood. She looked right, then left, then back at her phone as she brought her hand back to the surface and began undoing the belt of her coat. I watched in awe as the ends of her belt dropped to her side in front of the bench and her knees spread slightly. Her hand returned beneath her coat. Her hand resumed moving, in circles now, each movement disturbing her coat and separating the flaps.

I found myself nervous at her boldness but also desirous of more daring movement. And Chrissy obliged. She tilted her head back, letting her hand holding the phone to drop to her left thigh face down, her fingers pulling her coat aside exposing nothing underneath but the white flesh of her inner thigh all the way up to her pussy, where her hand was furiously moving in circles. She slid a bit lower in the seat and spread her legs fully, completely exposing her entire lower half, her gray sweater riding up above her belly button.

She was completely immersed in her rubbing now, her eyes closed, no concern whatsoever for her surroundings or any possible audience, including me. I watched as her hand moved steadily, quickly, her body beginning to tense. Her torso lengthened, her legs stretched out, bringing my eyes for the first time to her gray knee high boots that matched her sweater. The contrast of her boots, the coat, and her hips gave me an image I knew I would both remember forever and return to over and over in my sexual fantasies.

Her body was now a straight line from feet to head, her butt barely at the edge of the park bench as if she might slip off at any second. I watched her hand bounce up and down, two fingers doing all the work on her clit, her body shaking, shaking, shaking until there was a giant contraction, her chin slamming down tucked to her chest. Her shaking turned to quivering. Her knees pulling together, her torso coming forward covering her pussy from my view. Simultaneously I realized the tension in my own body and began relaxing my stiff posture if not my more focused stiffness.

I looked around both for her sake as well as my own, and then felt the vibration of my phone.

“OH MY GODDD!!!!”

“You are FUCKING incredible!” I wrote. “Did you feel good?”

“Amaaaaaaazing” she replied. “And you? Did YOU feel good?”

“I was incredibly turned on,” I wrote. “But I didn’t play if that’s what you meant.”

“Aw why not?”

“Just wanted to watch I guess.”

“Did you film me or take any pictures?” she asked.

“No. Didn’t know if that was allowed.”

The dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.

“Next Time,” she wrote, adding a winky face.

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Independence Day is a federal holiday in the United States commemorating the Declaration of Independence of the United States, on July 4, 1776. The Continental Congress declared that the 13 American colonies were no longer subject to the monarch of Britain and were now united, free, and independent states.

It wasn’t the Fourth of July yet, but Buck decided to set off some fireworks.

He wasn’t celebrating America’s freedom, instead expressing joy that he and Dylan had completed their last day of community service.

Both still wore their grass-stained jeans and dirt-covered tee shirts. They couldn’t wait to hit the shower.

But first, Buck was busy setting off firecrackers, Lady Fingers and Ground Spinners.

“A bit premature, don’t ya think?” Dylan laughed.

“Hey, we’re celebrating,” Buck said. “The end of our sentence…”

Was it the end of something? Or just the beginning?

***********

The two Kansas teens were out for a bike ride one Monday and were about to pass Darla’s house.

They seemed drawn to it, and, even though there was no need to get out of the street, they altered their course so that they rode up on the sidewalk, right out in front of their sexy former teacher’s residence.

Both were overjoyed to see she was out, planting some flowers.

“Gettin’ down and dirty,” Buck whispered to his buddy.

Dylan urged him to shut up, but Buck’s comment was apt.

Darla was on her knees, leaning forward, her big ass gripped tightly and snug by a pair of blue cotton shorts.

The boys felt compelled to say hello.

“H-hi, Ms. K,” Buck stammered nervously.

She turned around, holding up her hand to shield her eyes from the bright sun.

“Hi, fellas,” she said. “Out for a ride?”

“Yes, mam,” Dylan answered. “Needed something to do…”

“Oh, I hear ya,” she answered. “All of this free time in the summer can get kind of boring. You need stimulating activities to keep you occupied.”

The boys loved to hear her talk.

“We’re done our community service,” Buck announced proudly.

“Great,” she gushed. “Doesn’t it feel good?”

Both nodded.

“Well, I’ll tell ya,” Darla said, springing up from the flower garden. “I think that’s enough for today. Would you two like to join me for a lemonade on the back patio?”

They couldn’t say yes quick enough.

“Yes, mam,” Dylan said, beating Buck to it.

She giggled.

“I’ll meet ya back there,” she told them, heading towards the front door and gesturing to the boys for them to go around back.

***********

Lemonade never tasted so sweet and refreshing.

But as the boys sipped their summertime drink, they struggled thinking of what to say.

Darla beat them to it.

“So,” she began, taking adana escort a sip. “How ’bout those Royals?”

The boys appreciated her breaking the ice. And doing it with talk of baseball, nonetheless.

“We’re actually Cardinal fans,” Buck admitted.

“Cardinals are good. Hey, that’s fine too,” she offered, toasting them. “Hey, ya never know. Maybe they’re on a collision course for the World Series.”

“That would be gnarly,” Dylan chimed in.

“Herman’s a BIG White Sox fan. Huge,” she said. “He (laugh), actually has a bat autographed by Carlton Fisk. Herman says, ‘that’s the only thing that makes me geek out – my White Sox.'”

The two boys could appreciate that.

They talked some more about the great American past time, had some oatmeal raisin cookies to go with their lemonade, but the boys felt they needed to clear the air.

Again, Darla was way ahead of them.

“Boys, I have to ask,” she said with a gentle smile. “What made you come back that second time?”

Again, her smile eased things quite a bit.

“Meaning…when you…found us in the closet?” Buck wanted to clarify.

“Uh-huh,” Darla nodded in the affirmative. “You said that was the second time you were in there. So what made you come back that second time?”

Buck and Dylan didn’t know how to explain.

“My closet must have a gravitational pull stronger than Jupiter,” she laughed.

Buck coughed to clear his throat, but couldn’t find the right words. He was stuck in neutral.

Darla tried to give him a kick-start.

“Boys, listen,” she said in a calming tone. “My mom was a sex therapist and sex education teacher when I was growing up. So I heard a WHOLE LOT of different stories and anecdotes along the way.

“I’m no expert, mind you, but I’m a pretty good resource. Sharing with me what intrigued you about the sessions Herman and I have could really help me…help you. I’d like to guide you if I could. And to tell you the truth, Herman and I would be curious to hear…how our antics played to an audience. Even just an audience of two.”

She was so charming, so endearing. The boys began to open up.

“We, uh…,” Buck began, then stopped out of nervousness.

“Go ‘head, hon,” she encouraged.

“We, uh, really liked…watching you boss him around,” he said with a delightful, naughty, boyish grin, which gave way to a blush.

She smiled warmly.

“And it was kinda wild that, uh, he was completely frickin nude…and you were fully clothed?” Dylan added, his statement sounding like a question at the end, since he was so surprised with what he saw, given the saturation of female nudity in popular culture.

“You were taken back by the role reversal,” Darla wanted to clarify.

“Yes, mam,” ankara escort Dylan replied.

“That must have been rather startling,” Darla said in an understanding tone, also gloating a bit, greatly satisfied with the show she and Herman put on.

Buck took a deep breath, and enjoyed a big gulp of his lemonade. The conversation already had him on edge, his heart racing.

It was exhilarating to be sharing these thoughts with Ms. K.

“To be totally honest, Ms. K…uh…that was the…third time…we were in your closet,” Buck admitted.

“Oh, was it?” Darla answered, more flattered than anything else.

“We, uh…saw the ring toss,” Buck said with a boyish grin.

“Wow, so you saw the ring toss,” Darla repeated, then gave in to an adorable, bawdy chuckle.

They all had to crack up.

“Well, after all, you boys are sports fans,” she reasoned, with a sexy grin.

***********

The conversation was choppy when the three first sat down.

Now, it flowed like the Missouri River.

All three fought to get a word in.

Darla waited patiently, then spoke clearly and eloquently.

“Have you boys considered, that you may have a CFNM fetish?” she asked so gently, and with compassion and warmth.

Dylan and Buck looked at each other, with a bit of concern.

“Don’t worry,” she urged, with a chuckle. “I am not diagnosing you with a disease of some sort.”

They were able to laugh at themselves a bit.

“CFNM is an acronym. It stands for Clothed Female Naked Male. Or Clothed Female Nude Male – whichever floats your boat,” she smiled. “It’s the fetish I’m most interested in, and it has to do with the synergy generated by voyeuristic women and exhibitionist men. Or, to take it a step further, dominant women and submissive men.”

Dylan and Buck loved the way she explained things.

“I mean, who doesn’t wanna boss a naked guy around, am I right?” she laughed heartily, speaking for similar, like-minded women.

The two Kansas teens could appreciate her viewpoint, and were greatly aroused by it.

“Dude, I think that’s what we have,” Buck said to his friend. “I think we have that CFNM…”

Darla thought his reaction was adorable.

“The other question I wanted to ask, boys, is…did you strictly just like watching me with Herman? Or did you fantasize about being in Herman’s place?”

That question hit hard, right in the sweet spot. It touched a nerve in both Dylan and Buck.

“Uh…,” Buck stammered.

“It’s okay, Buck, you can be open. We’re all adults here,” she urged, reminding them that she wasn’t their high school teacher anymore, rather more of a confidant, a mentor.

“I imagined it was me,” Buck wholeheartedly admitted.

“Yeah, me too,” adıyaman escort Dylan echoed.

Her grin grew wider.

“Because that gives me an idea of how deep this fetish goes with you two,” she continued.

“Watching from the bench is fine,” she went on, using another sports analogy. “But it sounds like you two wanna get in the game.”

They felt like they were being picked for the coolest sports team ever assembled.

“Okay, okay…,” she nodded, pondering something. “Well, tell ya what. Lemme talk to Trish, and maybe we can help guide you guys a bit. Provide you the proper outlets to exercise these desires that you’re harboring. Sound like a plan?”

“Absolutely,” Buck said.

“Sounds great, Ms. K,” Dylan added.

With that, Darla rose from her seat, but Buck felt compelled to add something.

“Uh, I feel like we have to discuss one more thing,” he said.

“Oh? What’s that?” Darla answered him, sitting back down.

“The size of Herman’s hog,” was Buck’s reply.

Darla laughed heartily. It was wonderfully sexy.

“I met Herman…through Trish,” she began, in no rush, giving the topic the proper time and consideration. “She said, and I’m paraphrasing here, that she had somebody for me that was…a little bit different. He was a big, muscular guy, 245 pounds give or take, and a former Chicago cop. Real tough guy. But…a submissive.”

“That is a clash,” Buck agreed.

“Tell me about it,” Darla answered. “And Trish follows that up by saying (laugh)…Oh, and by the way, he has a very, VERY, large, uh…dick.”

“Ha!” Buck belted out.

Darla overemphasized the word, “dick,” stressing, in particular, the hard “d” and “k” sounds. The word came out of her mouth with particular pop.

It was like she wanted the young men to know it was perfectly fine for them to use such candid terms. They were all adults now, after all.

“You’d think Trish would have mentioned that first. The guy’s got a frickin kneeslapper,” Dylan laughed, playfully exaggerating, but not by much.

“Talk about burying the lead, am I right?” Darla kidded. “She says, well, I wanted to hit you with all of the stuff about him being a submissive first, just so it doesn’t get buried in the avalanche caused by his Loch Ness Monster (laugh).”

Images of Herman’s ginormous wang and Darla’s manipulations of it flashed back into Dylan and Buck’s young minds. It was a tickling-good memory.

“Eight inches unaroused!?!” Darla belted out, with both fascination and whimsy, speaking of Herman’s flaccid measurement.

“Holy frickin shit, dude,” Buck laughed.

“It’s a rather immense schlong,” Darla gushed, with a bawdy laugh. “But Herman will tell you, there are pros and cons to being that large.”

***********

Easy, casual talk went into the early evening.

But everybody at the table felt they needed to head their own way.

The two got a warm hug from Ms. K, and they headed out.

Things were accelerating. They could almost feel the wind blowing through their hair.

TO BE CONTINUED…

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‘Is this place new?’ the cabbie asked as they pulled up outside the pink and purple diagonally-striped double doors.

‘Not sure,’ Jarvis said. ‘To be honest, I’m not even sure how I know about it. I suppose someone must have told me. Or maybe I read about it somewhere.’

‘Tell you what, squire,’ the cabbie said, ‘if it were my place, first thing I’d do is get a decent sign. Can’t hardly see that one.’

He had a point. The sign above the door was not that much bigger than an A4 sheet of paper. And it seemed to be shrinking. By the time that Jarvis had got out of the cab and paid the cabbie, the sign was only about the size of a postcard. ‘You might know this,’ Jarvis said. ‘Does anyone send postcards anymore?’

The cabbie shrugged his shoulders. ‘Dunno. I think it’s all Instagram these days, innit?’ he said.

Jarvis wasn’t really familiar with Instagram. He pushed open the door and was greeted by a girl dressed in what seemed to be the top half of a naval officer’s dress uniform. Below, she was wearing just black fishnet stockings. ‘Hello,’ Jarvis said. ‘I’m here to meet a friend.’

The girl nodded. ‘Looking for friendship? Well, you’ve come to the right place, sailor. I’ll just need you to fill out a form. Likes and dislikes. Favourite foods. That sort of stuff. Oh … and whether you’re looking for a male or female of course.’

‘No. The friend … she’s someone I already know,’ Jarvis said. ‘I think we were supposed to be meeting for a cup of tea.’

‘I could probably find you a very nice tranny. Best of both worlds, so to speak,’ the girl said.

Jarvis found himself wondering why the girl wasn’t wearing any trousers.

‘Her name ….’ But Jarvis couldn’t remember the name of the friend he had come to meet. ‘Do you know why I’m here?’ Jarvis asked a man dressed in the manner of a Jedi knight.

‘The future has many entry points, young Jarvis,’ the man said, ‘but the past has few exits. Follow the dog, young Jarvis. Follow the dog.’ And then he dissolved into a bright light.

When Jarvis opened his eyes, the sun was shining through a gap between the bedroom curtains, and Toby, Jarvis’s aging black Labrador, was nose-butting his hand. Somewhere in Jarvis’s head a mellow, 1930s-style voice was singing. ‘The sun has got his hat on, hip-hip-hip hooray.’

‘That’s Ambrose,’ Jarvis told the dog. ‘Ambrose and His Orchestra. It’s funny the things that stick with you through the years, isn’t it? “The sun has got his hat on and he’s coming out to play.” About time, too.’

Jarvis pulled on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, and followed Toby out across the landing and down the stairs.

Summer was late. It should have arrived weeks ago. And yet as recently as Wednesday morning there had been a stiff breeze laced with brief showers. Not cold showers. But not really warm either. Certainly not the sort of weather that one would expect for the time of the year. Not flaming June. Not strawberries and cream on Henman Hill. But now it seemed the sun had finally decided to pay a proper visit. As the voice in Jarvis’s head was telling him: the sun had finally got his hat on.

‘Actually, Tobe, I’m not sure that Ambrose did the actual singing,’ Jarvis said. ‘I think he played the violin. The fiddle. You know. And I seem to recall that he might originally have been Polish. Bert Ambrose. I think. Is Bert a Polish name, Tobe? What do you think? Maybe short for Bertoliski.’

Jarvis let Toby out through the French doors that opened out onto the terrace that led to the garden. And then he made himself a cup of coffee and he too went out into the garden. Even though it had only just gone seven in the morning, there was already some real warmth in the sun, and Jarvis decided, there and then, that he would get the folding table and chairs from the garden shed and set up a workspace in the shade of the walnut tree.

Where had Ambrose suddenly come from? How had he found his way into Jarvis’s head? And then Jarvis remembered that there had been a club of some sort in his dream. And a girl dressed as an admiral. Had Ambrose been playing at the club perhaps? ‘Ladies and gentlemen, please put your hands together and make some noise for Ambrose and his Orchestra.’ Maybe. But Jarvis couldn’t remember. That was the problem with dreams. One moment everything was right there. Right in front of you. In fine detail. Making perfect sense. And the next ….

‘So … what’s your column about?’ a new voice in Jarvis’s head asked.

‘It’s generally about 800 words,’ another voice answered. ‘Boom! Boom!’ Oh yes, the old jokes are still the best jokes. ‘I say, I say, I say ….’

‘Although, in practice, I generally write 800 words plus a few,’ Jarvis muttered to himself. ‘Got to leave something for the hard-working subbies to get their pencils into.’

‘Do they still use pencils?’ the original voice asked.

‘I think so,’ Jarvis replied. ‘It seems that the much-vaunted paperless office is still just around the corner, just over the horizon.’

Jarvis’s afyon escort copy deadline was 11am. In almost five years, he had never missed a deadline. Not once. Mind you, he had sometimes flown pretty close to the wire.

He could probably write his column at any time during the preceding week. But writing habits are hard to break. And so Sunday’s column was written on Friday morning. A good deal of thinking went on beforehand, but the actual writing started at 8am on Friday. ‘Eight am on the dot,’ one of the voices confirmed.

By the time that Jarvis had set up his table and his laptop, and opened his shorthand pad covered in hand-jotted notes, Toby had already claimed his spot under the table. ‘I do hope that my feet are not in your way, Tobe, old chap,’ Jarvis said. But Toby seemed to have already dozed off. Jarvis moved his chair slightly and flexed his fingers.

Right … ‘Old dogs, and children, and watermelon wine,’ he typed. He wasn’t sure that he was going to use the actual Tom T Hall line, but it summed up what he wanted to say: that there aren’t that many reliable things in this world. And, placing one’s trust in the fancier promises of politicians and would-be politicians — especially at election time — is almost always a mistake.

‘Ten long years ago, the good people of East Norbury elected Edwin Brocklehurst as their Member of Parliament,’ Jarvis wrote.

‘For those of you who may have forgotten, Mr Brocklehurst said: “Vote for me and I will ensure that the number of mainline trains between London and King’s Androm is doubled. Furthermore, I will ensure that the local line from Ousemarket to Condle — a line which should never have been closed — is once again at the service of this community.”

‘Today, ten years later, the number of services on the London to King’s Androm line has halved. And the local line from Ousemarket to Condle remains nothing more than a thin black line on a few old maps.

‘There was never any real possibility of the rail services to and from the East Norbury region being restored to what they were in earlier times. Mr Brocklehurst should have known this. But, as the late Oliver Harmsworth said on more than one occasion: Politicians will promise whatever it takes to get elected. After that, they will promise whatever it takes to get re-elected.’

Jarvis read through what he had written. Yeah, that was coming together.

‘Mr Brocklehurst has now announced that he is to retire from politics. Apparently, like so many before him, he is going to spend more time with his family. So far, there has been no word of how his family feels about this.

‘At the forthcoming election, the good people of East Norbury will have five new candidates from whom to choose: Oswald Martin, Sir Matt Tanner, James Herkus, Gillian Green, and Buttercup Shilling. (Ms Shilling is promising free cannabis to all persons over the age of 18.)’

Jarvis glanced down at the word count in the bottom left hand corner. So far, so good. Maybe time for another cup of coffee. ‘Every good boy deserves figs and every good writer deserves more coffee,’ a voice in Jarvis’s head said.

When Jarvis returned to his outdoor office, coffee in hand, he set about summarising the key promise of each of the other candidates. And then he posed the question: ‘How likely is it that any of these fancy promises will be met? How likely is it that any of these fancy promises can be met?

‘As the world gets ever more complicated, what voters need are candidates who promise not what they think the voters want, but what they know they can deliver. A promise is a promise. Making promises you know you can’t keep is simply dishonest.’

Jarvis glanced down at the word count again. It was showing 823 words. There was a little something there for the subbie to work with.

It was coming up for a quarter to ten. Time to do something else. Time to let the pudding prove. And then Jarvis could come back, read through what he had written, perhaps make a few tweaks, and then press Send.

The sun was really getting into its stride. Jarvis took off his T-shirt; and then, because he could, he also removed his shorts. ‘There are advantages to be had from living in the middle of nowhere,’ Jarvis told himself.

When Jarvis had bought the cottage, the garden at the back had been almost a formal garden. But Jarvis wasn’t really a gardener. He liked gardens. He enjoyed gardens. But he wasn’t exactly green-fingered. And so, after struggling for the best part of a year, he had hired a woman from a nearby nursery to come and make a few changes. Now, three years after Cynthia had worked her magic, the garden was more of an informal green room which, in summer at least, was punctuated with splashes of intense colour.

For 25 minutes or so, Jarvis worked his way around the small garden, talking to himself, already beginning to think about next week’s column, removing a weed here and a weed there, and dumping them in the cunningly-concealed aydın escort compost bin. Then he returned to the shade of the walnut tree and reviewed what he had written. Yes. A few minor tweaks and it was time to press Send.

‘Will it make any difference?’ a voice in his head asked. ‘Will it prompt the voters of East Norbury to ask any hard questions of their candidates?’

‘I certainly hope so,’ Jarvis said. ‘I certainly hope so.’ But he also recognised that people tend to listen for what they want to hear. ‘Oh, well. One does what one can do,’ he told himself.

Jarvis closed his laptop and took his chair out into the full sun. The warmth of the sun’s rays on his body felt good. Very good indeed. Almost erotic. Or perhaps there was no almost about it. Jarvis lay back in his chair, spread his legs slightly, and watched as his cock began to fatten and grow in the sun’s warmth. ‘Interesting,’ he said to himself. ‘I wonder how far it will go. All the way?’ And if it did go all the way — without him actually touching it — should he just ignore it? Or should he call upon the services of Mrs Palmer and her five daughters?

‘Tis a terrible thing to waste an erection,’ a voice in his head said.

And then Jarvis thought that he heard another voice, a woman’s voice. ‘Gosh that looks nice,’ the voice said. Of course it couldn’t have been a real woman’s voice. Jarvis was in the middle of nowhere. And a visiting car could be heard from half a mile away. At least. But then, as a writer, Jarvis often heard voices in his head. Jarvis’s own voice trying out sentence structures. Searching for rhythms. Characters’ voices rehearsing bits of dialogue. Hearing voices was one of those things that he had long since learned to live with. ‘It’s just part of being a writer,’ he told himself. ‘Perhaps an essential part of being a writer.’

‘I rang the doorbell, but there was no reply,’ the woman’s voice said.

‘The doorbell? Ah, yes. Well, you can’t hear the doorbell from out here,’ Jarvis said. ‘You can only hear it if you are in the house. I suppose that I should consider getting a second bell. Perhaps out on the terrace.’ And then he realised that it was a real voice. And it was coming from a real woman. It was coming from Angela.

Angela was a consultant archaeologist of some sort. Jarvis had met her when they were trying to save the Old Corn Store at Widecombe. Jarvis didn’t believe in saving old buildings just because they were old, but the Old Corn Store was also beautiful. And it gave Widecombe a point of focus. ‘Without the Old Corn Store, Widecombe would be no more than an untidy crossroads with a misshapen village green,’ Jarvis had written.

‘Doorbell?’ Jarvis said. ‘Umm … yes. No. Sorry. I didn’t ….’ And he tried to cover his growing erection.

Jarvis’s shorts — along with his T-shirt — were on the table under the walnut tree. And Angela was now standing between where Jarvis was sitting and where his clothes were. ‘My … umm … clothes,’ he said, waving a hand in the direction of the walnut tree.

‘Oh, don’t worry on my account,’ Angela said. ‘I’ve seen naked bodies before.’

‘I was just …,’ Jarvis said.

‘Enjoying the sun. Yes. And who wouldn’t? It has taken forever to get here this year. Still … it’s here now, and that’s all that matters.’

‘I didn’t hear you arrive,’ Jarvis said.

‘That’s OK. I wasn’t expecting a royal fanfare or anything like that. I was just passing. I thought that I’d pop in. Say hello. You know how it is.’

‘No. I mean I can normally hear a car from a good half mile away. At least.’

Angela frowned. ‘Ah … yes,’ she said. ‘Yes. I have one of those new electric cars. Just to try. I’m not sure if I’ll buy it or not. It hardly makes any noise at all. I suppose that we’ll get used to them. In time. But, at this stage, it’s … well … a little bit strange, to be honest. No brrm, brrm.’

What Jarvis found strange was not an electric car that travelled in near silence — no brrm, brrm — but the fact that his cock which, with the arrival of Angela, he had expected would collapse, seemed to be continuing to grow.

‘This is such a perfect garden,’ Angela said, making a sweeping gesture. ‘So private. My little garden is overlooked from both sides. And while I’m sure that Tom Turkle would be more than happy to gaze down on me should I choose to indulge in a little, umm, sun bathing, his cow of a wife would not be at all pleased. And as for the Reverend Cedric Hopkins (retired) …. God only knows.’

Jarvis smiled. By his own admission, he was not very good at judging women’s ages, but he seemed to recall Angela saying something about a 40th birthday. Upcoming, perhaps. Or recently passed. Either way, she was a very pleasant sight, dressed in her summery dress and her strappy sandals.

And then Angela’s face suddenly lit up. ‘Oh, silly me,’ she said. ‘Of course. It’s National Nude Day, isn’t it? I completely forgot.’ And, to Jarvis’s complete surprise, ağrı escort Angela first removed her dress, and then her knickers, and finally her bra. She kept her sandals on. And she kept the butterfly pendant that hung on a gold chain around her neck.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘You should have said.’ And then she placed her shed clothes on the table beside Jarvis’s, picked up the other chair from under the walnut tree, and carried it out into the centre of the garden, placing it facing Jarvis’s chair. ‘Just as well that the sun did come out, eh? Imagine National Nude Day without the sun.’

Jarvis frowned slightly. ‘National Nude Day?’

‘I meant to put it in my diary,’ Angela said. ‘Still …. What a glorious day for it. What a glorious day for National Nude Day.’

‘I suppose so,’ Jarvis said.

‘National Nude Day,’ a voice in Jarvis’s head said. ‘Who comes up with all these days? And while we’re on the subject, when is Pink Hippopotamus Appreciation Day?’

‘You know … you definitely have better weather out here,’ Angela said. ‘You’re only a mile or so from the village, but ….’ And she leaned back, spread her arms and legs, and let the sun fall on her naked body. ‘Ah … yes.’ And then she reached down and fluffed up her unusually luxuriant tuft of pubic hair. ‘As you can see, I haven’t even got around to trimming my lady garden yet. I was going to do it about a month ago, but then Felix wanted to take a photograph.’

‘Felix?’

‘Felix.’

‘Your … boyfriend?’

‘No, no. Felix is a photographer. Professional. I sometimes get him to do bits and pieces when we are carrying out excavations. Photographic record. You know. We do our own. With our phones usually. But sometimes we need something a bit more professional. We were working on a dig over near Taklemore, and Felix said that he wouldn’t charge me for the photography if he could photograph me for some collection that he was putting together. He assured me that no one would be able to tell that it was me. And so I agreed. He said that he wanted my lady garden to be as luxuriant as possible. Hence no trim.’

Angela ran her fingers through her dark mahogany-coloured bush for a second time. ‘I’m still not sure how he knew that I was rather more hirsute than many of my sisters. Not actual sisters, you understand. I don’t have any. I was an only child.’

Jarvis nodded.

‘It was quite interesting. He — Felix — had me put conditioner through it for a couple of days before he took the photographs. And then, on the day, he brushed it up and used a light hairspray. I must say that it was quite effective. And I thought that it looked quite sexy — if you are into a bit of lady garden.’

Jarvis nodded again.

‘Do you like a bit of lady garden, Jarvis?’

‘Umm … yes. I suppose I do.’

‘Good.’ And then Angela stared at Jarvis’s crotch — where his hand was still making a losing effort to cover his still-growing cock — and she frowned. ‘Oh, gosh. I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘Did I …? Did I interrupt? Were you …? You know.’

‘What?’

‘I didn’t realise,’ Angela said. ‘I’m sorry. Crashing in here.’

‘What? No.’

She laughed. ‘If I had a cock — and a private garden like this — I’m pretty sure that I’d be giving it a bit of a tug in the sunshine too. In fact, I’m sure that I would. Combining National Nude Day with Masturbation Monday. Although today’s Friday, isn’t it? Still ….’

‘No. I wasn’t … umm. I think it must just be the sun.’

Angela smiled. And then she nodded. ‘Well … whatever …. But don’t let me stop you.’

‘But that’s the point,’ Jarvis said. ‘I wasn’t actually doing anything. It was just happening of its own accord.’

Angela continued to smile. ‘I believe you,’ she said. ‘Millions wouldn’t. So how is it now?’

‘Well, now you’re sitting there — without your clothes — talking about your lady garden — how do you think it is?’

‘The little bit that I can see looks pretty nice. But your hand keeps getting in the way.’

Jarvis sighed and moved his hand. ‘Better?’

‘Oh, yes. Much better,’ Angela said. ‘Thank you.’

‘So … what now?’ Jarvis heard a voice in his head say.

And, as if Angela heard the voice too, she said: ‘Well, it may just be the sun of course. That’s certainly a possibility. I suppose. But we still don’t want to let it go to waste.’ She moved her chair slightly closer. ‘Well? Are you going to show me how it’s done?’

‘Somehow, I rather get the feeling that you already know how it is done.’

‘Well, yes. Naturally. In a general sense, anyway. But I like to think that, whenever possible, it’s good to learn the finer points from the expert. And, in my experience, there is no greater expert on how to handle a stiff cock than the man whose cock is being handled. Now … shall we begin?’

‘I think you’re going to have to,’ a voice in Jarvis’s head said. ‘I don’t think that she’s going to give up.’

Jarvis took the weight of his cock in his fingers, placed the ball of his thumb on top, and slowly stretched the warmer-than-usual tube of pale flesh until he had almost covered the bluish-pink helmet head. And then he slowly pulled his hand back towards his body, causing his swollen cockhead to appear to reach out towards the attentive Angela.

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Prologue

The sensations were distinct for Nicole at first: the cold shock of the raindrops on her bare skin, the taste of her husband’s lips, the tingling brush of his pubic hair against her clitoris, the swelling pressure of his member inside of her, and the strange tightness in behind. But the more she gave herself to the moment, the more the sensations merged, swirling together like paints on a palette. The world went away and all she could feel or recognize was a summiting pleasure that slowly consumed every corner of her awareness, filling her to completeness before bursting like a balloon of rapturous, narcotic delight. She screamed without realizing it.

Chapter One — Just Before Dark

“Glad we got here before sunset,” Caleb remarked as they pulled into the parking lot after 30 minutes of highway-driving, followed by 20 of winding, turkey-trail, dirt-roads. He dreaded to think how much dust would be pasted now to the exterior of his little blue sedan.

“Still gotta drive home dear,” Nicole smirked, noticing that the sky was almost completely dark by this point.

He hadn’t thought of that, and now had a fun new dread to contemplate — trying to do that whole drive a second time in one evening with a higher degree of difficulty thanks to darkness the second time around. “Well, shit.”

“I can get us home.” She offered.

The thickness of the forest kept the breeze low and refreshing as they stepped out of their car and onto the endless depths of tiny pebble that made up what was ostensibly a parking lot, but only in the crudest sense of the term — it was a gravel lot in which cars parked, and seemed very nearly full at the moment, despite the remote location, and with a stream of cars still lining up behind them to enter.

“Well, at least we got a space,” he said, watching some of the most recent cars giving up entirely and simply parking on the sides of the dirt road just outside of the lot.

Caleb held out his arm to help steady his wife, whose black-heels had already sunken half an inch into the loose pebbles beneath her. The sight of her stepping out in his favorite dress, a tight, ankle-length black gown with an open back and thin shoulder straps was enough to cause him to very nearly miss supporting her. It wasn’t the cut of the dress, so much as the fabric, thin and clingy in a way that tantalized him with the sense of just how little material separated her soft, fantastically curved body from the eyes of the world. She grabbed his arm to level off and his mind emerged from the gutter it was drowning in.

“Thanks. Let’s head up.”

“Up where he asked, looking around for some sort of signage, but finding only cars and pedestrians and trees.” There was something spectacularly contradictory about so many people occupying the same space out in the middle of nowhere. There must have been 30 cars, at least.

From one of them, a nearby Ford pickup truck, a short, elderly man with kind eyes emerged and waved at them as he passed. Caleb nodded back in acknowledgement.

“What was that about?” he asked.

Nicole pulled back her own waving hand in order to pin behind her ear the few strands of shoulder-length strawberry blonde hair that had tossled across her face on the bumpy drive over. “Just being friendly.” This tracked for Caleb. Nicole had the kind of beauty that you might describe as “accessible.” She was stunning to look at with her large, expressive mouth contrasting her petite button nose, but it was her large blue eyes that always felt completely engaged and engaging, like whoever she was talking to was the only person in the world, the only person in the room. She put people at their ease.

“You don’t think he remembers us from…”

“Last year?” She could tell that he was visibly blushing. She had to hold back her smirk for seeming too condescending, but she always found him to be utterly adorable when he was flustered or embarrassed. That, combined with the warm summer breeze and the recollection of the event last year all mixed together as a sort of cocktail of tingling she began to feel throughout her skin. She sensed her heartbeat picking up a little as well, but resolved to stay cool, poised, calm, whatever it took to keep her husband from freaking out.

“Yeah,” he replied.

“I’m actually pretty sure everyone who saw us last year is going to remember us. We were pretty unforgettable.”

Caleb’s cheeks flushed even further. “That was…something.”

The details of the recollection were awkward, maybe even humiliating — a mistaken invitation to the meeting of a swingers club leading to a drunken indulgence. Instead he chose to remember the moment he liked best– her naked flesh, the stage, the crowd of surprised and exuberant onlookers, the climax. Everything after that was retreat. In some ways, he’d been retreating ever since, but not tonight. He’d made a promise to her and he intended to hold up his end.

She led him past the cars at the east end of the lot toward a little path that led away from the lot and balıkesir escort into the forest before climbing a small set of log stairs that pierced through the treeline and over the hill. They went with the flow here, following the crowd of others, everyone walking in the direction of the setting sun, all but gone now, save for a feint glow on the horizon that, at the right angle, filled the thin gaps between the trees with a haunting glow, as if the forest itself was projecting an aura.

They paused before a large pink Bristol board sign lettered in black sharpie that read: “Ayr Polyamorous Society — Spring Solstice Ceremony — This Way”

“You sure you want this?” he asked.

She smiled. “You have no idea.”

Chapter Two — Very Good Seats

Thirty feet down the trail, Caleb stood in front of another Bristol board signpost at a fork in the trail with arrows pointing in two different directions. “Do we want robing or auditorium?” Nicole, trailing 15 feet behind on account of the heels, stifled her anger at him for sprinting ahead to read the sign.

“Auditorium,” she replied passing ahead of him and following the trail without stopping.

Caleb half-sighed at this before following. “How come we don’t get robes?” He was a sucker for robes, lived for his Sunday morning robe-wearing, and 3 of his last 7 Christmas gifts from Nicole had been robes.

“We don’t need em,” she half-spat backwards at him in frustration.

“OK.” And just like that the sudden joy of unexpected robing deflated just as quickly as it had arrived into his life and he resigned himself to being robeless. Looking around he noticed several small wooden cabins amongst the trees, each with a little doorstop and a picture of a smiling bear in front of an address number.

“Is this a summer camp?”

“Will be in two weeks,” she replied. “They use it off-season.”

“Really?”

“Every last Thursday in June, then again in October.”

“How do you know that?” he asked.

“It’s on the group page.”

Caleb had only had the one encounter with the Ayr Polyamorous Society and, while memorable, the details surrounding their infrastructure were not something he’d ever latched onto. Any time he thought about them, and there were times he tried not to, all he remembered was the room of people cheering him as Nicole thrust her sweat-soaked body across his lap in front of them.

The path was sloping downhill now, away from the cabins, and a burly man in his 30s with a shaved head and beard walked toward them and smiled as he passed.

“Forgot my robe,” he said apologetically.

Caleb stopped and turned his head to follow the man walking away.

“See? Are you sure we don’t need to…”

“Yes,” Nicole stated bluntly. “Hurry up or I’m leaving you out here to fend for yourself.”

“I could be a boy scout,” he defied her.

“You’d die,” she retorted.

“I’d probably die,” he affirmed, “but my corpse would be sexy as hell, all rugged and flannel-y.”

The trail opened onto a great bowl-shaped structure of wood and concrete built into the slope of the hill. Rows of long wooden benches curved endlessly along the hillside, all surrounding a large, open-air wooden stage in the centre. Filling the seats, and still filing in around them, were dozens of robed and hooded people.

Nicole paused a moment to look up at the sky. “I hope the rain holds off.” The last light of the fading sun was just enough to view thick dark clouds rolling in above them.

“What kind of summer camp is this?” Caleb asked, staring in awe at the grand outdoor auditorium in front of them, which was nicer than the indoor auditorium at his high school. The rows of benches were all made from logs cut in half and propped on legs, but the sanding and finish transcended the sort of rustic look that you might expect, and gave Caleb the unmistakeable impression of money at play, as did the stage, which rose 4 feet off the ground, with metal rigging surrounding it. Caleb had never been a theatre-child, but he could make out lights and ropes and sandbags. It also looked expensive. He suddenly thought back on his childhood scouting camps with furious envy.

“Rock and roll camp,” she replied. Ages 6 to 17.

He felt his jealousy rise further — his camps were all about macaroni art and responsible citizenship. He might have grown up to be a good person, but at the moment he’d have preferred to be more rock and roll. He looked around at the crowd and felt an even further surge of envy, a relevant one this time — everyone in it was wearing identical hooded black robes.

“I don’t remember this level of wizard cosplay at the last meeting?” Caleb remarked.

“That was just a mixer. This is the real deal — robes and all.”

“Shit. How old is the Ayr Polyamorous Society?” he asked, fearing that he’d stepped into the den of a long and storied society, secretly pulling the strings of history for ages upon…

Nicole laughed, before whispering back to him “1986. They just bartın escort like to be dramatic.”

Caleb smiled back. “Pretty smart, actually. Those robes look real cozy.”

“Mmm hmmm.”

“Do we have time to go b…”

“NO!” she interrupted, slapping him in the ribs to punctuate the thought. “C’mon.”

Nicole took his hand gently and led him past the crowd, stepping precisely to avoid falling over in her heels as she made her way down the crude stairs made of wooden beams and still more gravel, closer and closer to the stage level. Caleb cast his eyes from side to side, trying to recognize any of the faces within the robes from that night a year ago, or even just to see if anyone was staring at him conspicuously in remembrance. He seemed to be lucking out so far — no heads were turning and though some of the faces stirred in him a vague recollection, the deadly cocktail of alcoholic fruit punch and adrenaline from the year prior kept him from truly recognizing anyone. He was relieved, but still apprehensive about attending another of their events after they had promised themselves and each other to never speak of that night, and certainly never to return.

Yet here they were. Looking at the stage drawing nearer, he though, in particular of the moment Nicole had first exposed herself to the crowd on last year’s stage, their shock and awe to see her in front of them without panties (she’d left them at home…he’d sort of suggested it). Her competing sense of embarrassment and exhilaration had stuck in his mind where all these strangers’ faces hadn’t. He had dreamed of that moment quite often in the year that had passed.

He flashed back to reality as he realized they were running out of rows to sit in, getting closer and closer to the stage where the crowds had already amassed.

“How close do you want to sit?” he asked.

“About that” she responded. “Remember when I asked you if you’d be willing to come to this, and you said you’d do anything for me?”

“I remember you were naked at the time and had your hand on my…” he lowered his voice to a discreet whisper “…cock.”

“Yes, that’s correct,” she smiled wryly “but not grounds for an exemption.”

“I hate what law school is doing to you.”

“Me too, kinda, but that’s not the point.” They were in the very front row now. His steps had grown heavier and she was all but dragging him along the area directly before the stage.

“Um.”

“Yes?”

“Um…”

“Yeah. Yeah” she replied earnestly before leading him right to the side stairway.

“Our spot’s up there,” she stated, gesturing up at the stage.

“You said we were coming to their show.”

“And we totally are! In fact, we’re bringing the show with us. Think about how much fun you had the last time!”

“I was drunk…and naked.”

“Me too! Let’s try it sober this time — maybe it will be even better!’

“I…” His face had turned beet red at this point and he was quite sure that his forehead had somehow generated an instant deluge of perspiration as if the sweat had just teleported onto his brow from nowhere.

“Please!” She begged. “You’ve been traveling so much I barely see you. I wanted to, like, maximize our time together.”

“Sure, but this?”

“Please? I have a plan.”

“Fuck.”

“Name your price. I’ll do anything.”

“I want one of the robes.”

“Dealsies.” And with that she pulled him, willingly, up to the stage level, and just as they set foot atop it, the crowd began to applaud. It was showtime.

Chapter 3 — The First Offering

Nicole and Caleb stood behind the co-ordinator, a pleasant-looking middle-aged woman with curly blonde hair and a constant smile behind her clipboard. She smiled at Nicole and then whispered something into her walkie talkie that Caleb couldn’t hear for all the applause.

Suddenly, the overhead lights came on and the crowd hushed near-immediately, with the exception of the few stragglers now tip-toeing to their seats in a polite attempt to avoid distracting the people who had actually showed up on time and who were already seated.

“Distracting from what, though?” Caleb wondered. What had his wife gotten him into and how far was he actually willing to go…especially sober?

He could see a light turn on in a booth way at the back behind the bleacher seats, which he assumed to be the AV stand. Two shadows were moving in the little building, but he couldn’t make out their faces. After a while, they sat down in front of what appeared to be microphones and right on cue a voice, older, huskier, with just a bit of a southern drawl came on, introducing himself as simply “Gary,” in such a relaxed and familiar way that it left no doubt that everyone other than Caleb knew who Gary was somehow.

“Good evening, everybody, and welcome to our Spring Solstice event!”

He paused for applause and the crowd obliged with a smattering of enthusiasm and one over-the-top “woot!”

He then launched into a series of preamble announcements, batman escort including a forthcoming bottle drive, an update on a controversial chips vs veggie trays debate from a month prior, and a friendly reminder not to drink and drive, all of which felt nothing short of surreal to Caleb, watching a crowd of hooded figures surrounding a stage in the middle of a forest at night. The entire time, he could feel his body temperature rising in dread anticipation — not knowing what the night would hold. He mentally commanded his knees to quit trembling, but quickly found them to be altogether insubordinate.

As Gary wrapped up his discussion on some sort of upcoming raffle, Caleb was just about ready to walk back to the parking lot and be done with it, but then he felt Nicole squeeze his hand and he turned to see her eyes sparkling with excitement. He squeezed it back, knowing with that gesture just how doomed he was, though perhaps not the exact nature of what was to come. But come it did.

Gary’s voice lowered into something more serious than prior, as if rehearsal was over and the show was beginning.

“And with that, ladies and gentleman, let us begin the OFFERINGS TO DIONYSUS TO HONOR THE SOLSTICE!”

The applause was loud now — not just polite, but maybe even a little raucous. Caleb could feel the energy in the theatre shift, abruptly. His first thought was that somewhere out there was another spiked punch bowl — he longed for it, himself, but then came around to figuring that what the crowd was drunk on wasn’t alcohol at all.

“We will begin then, with the first offering — the offering of night, by which the ritual of Dionysus can begin!”

More applause.

“Is he going to murder me?” Caleb asked his wife, who only squeezed his hand tighter. It felt clammy now, and her smile had faded. She was biting her lip slightly and avoiding his gaze.

“No…but, you might murder me.”

“What?” he asked. “What is it?”

“The first offering is all you.”

“Huh?”

“Well, your clothes anyway. After that, I do all the work.”

“Beg pardon?”

“Yeah.”

The pleasant lady with the clipboard turned to look at them — nodded once, then whispered something into her walkie talkie, at which point a spotlight shone in the centre of the stage, where Caleb could now see a pair of manacles and chains hanging from a rigging above, and some 6 feet in front of those, pointed away from the audience, sat a stainless steel chair shimmering brilliantly from the light sparkling down on it.

“You trust me, right?” Nicole asked, squeezing his hand more fervently.

“I’m suddenly not so sure,” he answered sincerely, staring out at the brightly lit stage and the cold steel throne upon it.

“You’ll like it.”

“I will?”

“I have a plan.”

“You do?”

The crowd was silent in anticipation. The lack of movement in the air was starting to feel awkward.

“OK, pony boy,” the pleasant co-ordinator lady stated. “Show us what you’ve got.”

Nicole nudged him forward and he started to step toward the spotlight reflexively. Instantly the crowd applauded yet again, giving him just enough blind momentum to take two more steps until he was just beside the chair at centre stage. He was doing pretty good…and then he wasn’t. The awkward stillness returned as he stood there frozen, hovering in the thickness of the moment, all eyes upon him, unable to move like the frogs he used to catch at summer camp by shining a flashlight on them in the dark. All at once he understood what the frogs of his youth must have felt, blinded by an unseen predator. The crowd was out there, it was hung, and he could no longer see them with the spotlight in his eyes. They were just the darkness now, a mass of unseen mutterings, and a giant unreciprocated stare.

Finally, a woman’s voice shouted: “take it off.”

Someone else echoed the sentiment with a “yeah!”

Someone else offered a more supportive cat-call: “don’t be afraid. This is a safe space and you’re doing great.”

“Am I, though?” Caleb wondered, tallying some quick mathematics on the state of his life and the events that had brought him to this place. He was a grown man fighting the urge to pee himself on a stage, like some 2nd grader at their first school play. He was an unparalleled success in his industry, someone looked up to, someone considered a leader, but here he was just some frozen noob unable to move. He wanted to move.

And then she was buy his side. With him there in the spotlight.

“Need some help,” she offered, before adding “…pony boy?” just to needle him a little.

He almost laughed. He surely would have laughed if his body were capable of such a thing in this moment.

With a disarming tenderness, she pulled his tie unknotted and trailed it off of his neck to land on the stage floor.

“Tell me now if you want this to stop,” she asked, unbuttoning his shirt next.

The crowd was slow-clapping now, rhythmically, like it was the bottom of the ninth and the Yankees had a man on base.

Caleb placed his hand over his eyes and found some resolve. “Keep going.”

And she did.

It was only when he was down to his boxers and the clapping was at its loudest that he hesitated, clutching desperately at the waistband to prevent her sliding it down.

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“Tom, I don’t know,” I shouted, “I really need to leave now.” For some reason I didn’t feel ready to have children nor leave my job. Besides, if I had a child, I am sure that Tom would insist that I stay at home.

“OK, I’m sorry that I brought it up again. Its just that I love you so much,” he said as he kissed and hugged me goodbye.

I arrive at the university late and wash the tears from my face. Why I volunteer to speak at another career night is beyond me. I proceed to give my twenty minute talk, listen to another talk and remain as little afterwards as possible to answer questions. Usually, I enjoy these opportunities because I am interested in speaking to the computer club about careers and industry trends but tonight my interest isn’t here.

Normally I give out business cards afterwards but tonight I speak to three students and ease to the exit. A tall lanky guy, long black hair, pony tail, earrings approaches me and walks to the door with me. He is a music major but also doing a lot with computers. The music topic brings me from my doldrums. Music is my long lost passion. We speak briefly. Subconsciously, I reach into my suit pocket and give him my business card.

On the way home, my thoughts quickly return to my husband. He loves and idolizes me. But I break down in tears again as I realize I can’t return it, at least, not from my heart. And, I don’t know why.

Tom is from a large close family that loves me. At first I really liked and embraced this. My parents, both alcoholics, divorced when I was twelve, remarried, and started or acquired new families. My sister, brother, and I felt pushed out and replaced. We pretty much went our separate ways. The good news, my uncle helped me and I was able to go to college and end up with a good job that I liked. The bad news is that years of therapy and meetings didn’t help me get over my pain and lack of trust in relationships. I also feel that Tom does not value my college degree and career. He does not realize that these are the few things that I have in life. We were both so young when we married, didn’t know ourselves, much less be able to communicate it.

Things moved pretty fast. Robert emails and we discuss music and computers. This leads to more. That first evening at the university, I knew I was attracted to him. He is different; an artist, a music major, so energetic, so excited about things, so handsomely different.

Tom is police officer and works evenings a lot. ardahan escort I hang on the Internet boards and chat rooms. In the virtual world, I am ‘Slut4U’.

After about a dozen email exchanges and chats with Robert, I casually send some flirting stuff and innuendoes. Surprising myself, I tell him I get wet thinking of him. I couldn’t believe myself when I hit the send key that evening.

Tom and I had dated in high school and got married shortly thereafter. Other than a couple other dates during our dating break ups, Tom was my only relationship. When Robert kissed me that night, it felt so strange, so forbidden, so sinful, but so good. The juices bubbled within me. Reluctantly and nervously I had met him at a coffee shop that night.

We mostly talk of music and computers but our sex energy flows. After two hours, he walks me to my car. That’s when he kisses me. His tongue dances with me and I, in return, dance with him. I can feel his hardness pressed into me and I press back to feel it, to acknowledge it. Quivers go though my body with his hand on my waist and the bare skin beneath my sweater. My body leads his hand to my breasts. My eyes close and body melts, my breasts being slowly and gently lifted out from my bra; his huge hand encapsulating them. I give to him.

My stomach contracts as his hand moves to my jeans, sliding in and down. Then out to undo the button. My juices flow as I feel and hear the zipper go down. The elastic on my panties is touched. His hand, moving down, combs the pubic hairs. I push towards the finger going into me as it curls up inside me and I squeeze around it. I panic as I start to feel myself reach that point. I pull back feeling scared and not knowing what I am doing.

I button up, tell him goodbye quickly, and jump in my car.

So many thoughts and emotions race though my mind on the way home. Sex with Tom was never anything like this that I was feeling now even though Robert had only touched me. Electricity went through my body.

Robert instantly sent me an email and apologized for pushing too far. For a nineteen year old, he is very sensitive and gentlemanly.

That Sunday as I sit silently in church with Tom, I resolve that I will divorce. A feeling of claustrophobia overwhelms me. Late October is my self-imposed deadline. I want it over before the holidays. It will be difficult for Tom as divorce is not looked upon favorably within his beliefs artvin escort and family. I know I have wasted eight years of his life. Early in our marriage, I thought about converting to his Catholic faith and started taking the training. But it just wasn’t me and I dropped out. It isn’t that I am in love with Robert; it’s more that I am not in love with Tom.

That evening I write to Robert sharing my feelings and background and why I reacted in such a way. “I want to see you again soon,” was my last message that evening.

Three days later, I change into jeans and a loose blouse at work and nervously proceed to his house. He shares the rented house with two other music students. It was typical college style. Robert has some wine and snacks that we munch on and then take to his room to look at his musical and computer stuff. Although interesting and meant to relax, the anxiety of our intent was obvious and building.

“Are you ready,” he finally asks.

“Yes,” I reply. We both know what this means.

He turns downs the lights, kisses me softly and slowly and meticulously removes my blouse and jeans and I remember undoing his zipper and reaching in to feel him. I rub my hand up and down several times measuring its length and then enter to feel the flesh that I want inside of me which happens soon thereafter. His hand glides into my panties and I wait as one and then two fingers enter in me. Awkwardly, I pull his briefs down and he mine. I lie back on the bed, spread my legs and take him in.

Sex with Robert is so good. I can’t believe it, here he is single and nineteen; I am married and twenty-eight. Oral, anal, etc., I experience so much with him. Tom just isn’t into anything this erotic and, except for fantasies and Internet learning, I am such a novice.

Although he never outwardly flaunts it, I know Robert is proud of his white, older, married girlfriend. Occasionally, I feel it, resent it and relish it. At first I felt uncomfortable being at his house when his housemates were home. Their thoughts of what Robert and I were doing in the upstairs bedroom bother me. I hate going back downstairs afterwards with their eyes on me. After a while, I got use to it. They are pretty good guys. I enjoy their music, company, and carefree youthful attitudes.

One evening I go to Robert’s for dinner after work. His roommates weren’t there so I strip to my bra and panties while I help Robert with the dinner. bodrum escort I had been seeing Robert about once a week at that time. We hear his roommates drive up so I go to the sofa and cover with a throw. They join us for a while to watch a MTV special. I look over and see my business skirt, jacket, and blouse thrown over the dinning room chair in clear view; sexually, in my mind, they were taking turns fucking me. When they left, I took Robert into me almost immediately to quench my desires. Later I tell Robert of my thoughts.

I will never forget the date, October 22, and time. Robert and I are chatting about group sex. He shares with me the many things he and roommates have discussed concerning their fantasies and me. The conversation amuses me in a funny way and also excites me. But I really didn’t think that I would ever do their fantasies.

It is shortly after 10 pm, there is a knock at the door. I am partially dressed and wet.

Tom has been seriously injured in the line of duty. Tom’s cousin and another officer rush me to the hospital.

“I am sorry, Mrs. McFaddin,” the doctor tells me, “your husband did not survive the gun shot wound.”

There is a huge police funeral with dignitaries, press coverage and remarkable tear jerking tributes. So many things go through my mind including tremendous guilty. His family loves me so much but I just want it to be over and to be alone. I am exhausted by the hugs, invites and endless offers for help.

That Thanksgiving, I go to Tom’s sister’s home for the large family thing. I feel I owe it to them, to him and I need closure. I actually stay longer than I anticipate. I spend the rest of the weekend with Robert. Robert has been such a comfort. He doesn’t talk; he just holds me.

In early December, Jason, Robert’s roommate, invites us to his family’s cabin by Big Bear Lake. It is a small, one-bedroom cabin that Robert had told me about previously. We know the intent of weekend although we don’t discuss it. They bring their music. After some drinks, Jason and I dance to a few songs and soon, with Robert’s encouragement, Jason and I are in the bed. Jason, who is six feet six is overwhelming to me; his large mouth between my legs possessed all of me. That evening I sleep and get serviced by both concurrently. Although sore and cramped, it felt good waking up in the morning smashed between the two of them. I fixed breakfast for them in my white bikini briefs. We joked that both Jason and Robert have budging low cut briefs on, black and red respectively. We all realize what will happen later.

Although it was fun and diverted my mind, I knew that I needed to work on a lot of things in my life. All my life, I feel that I have experienced the extremes and nothing fits.

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