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(Thanks so much for the wonderful feedback, everyone! Sorry this one took so long, but I had to wait for more inspiration… Be sure to tell me what you think of my work!)

*

When I opened my eyes the next morning, Angela was already awake, humming around the kitchenette, making breakfast. She was already dressed: I was disappointed to see her beautiful skin masked by her customary black skirt and a crisp, white blouse. She couldn’t hide the curves, though — every inch of her was bursting with lovely, feminine softness. Still, it made me more conscious of my own nakedness. I was totally stripped, lying in the pile of bedsheets where I fell.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” she winked, as I squinted at her through the door.

The events of the previous night began to filter back into my mind, in vivid detail. I saw her naked, horny, lustful, demanding my complete obedience. A completely different creature from the cheerful lady padding around the apartment in carpet slippers. She entered the bedroom and sat next to me on the bed; as the mattress sagged slightly, I curled up against her thigh.

“How do you feel?” she asked, gently running a hand through my hair.

“Satisfied,” I said, grinning up at her.

“Good,” she replied, leaning down to kiss me gently with her soft, full lips. She had the most delicious lips, like ripe fruit ready to be tasted. Her left hand ran down my shoulder and chest until it rested lightly against my cock, which twitched at the sudden attention.

“How’d you like to fuck again this morning, eh?” she asked, smiling wickedly.

“Definitely,” I replied, reaching for her waist.

“Tough,” she said, pushing me back against the bed and slapping at my groping hand. “We’ve got to get the store open. Get dressed.” Laughing, she strolled back into the kitchenette.

So I got dressed, and the day proceeded, oddly normally. We went downstairs and opened the shop and bustled around like always as customers trickled in. As the day wore on, I began to question my own sanity. Maybe I had dreamed it all… maybe, in a fit of terrible loneliness, I had convinced myself that Angela wanted me, that she was the perfect slut that every man secretly desires. The sore muscles in my legs were no dream, though, and every time I dropped to the floor to open a cabinet or lift a box, the slight pain in my thighs reminded me of the night before, kneeling, driving my cock into her wet snatch over and over again. Every time, I shivered.

If she was thinking of it, she gave no sign. At lunch she sent me down to the corner for carry-out sandwiches, like always. When I returned, I nearly dropped the bag.

Angela was wearing the choker.

But she wasn’t naked, or sprawled across the counter, or wickedly grinning at me. She was casually sitting behind the desk in the back room, chatting with a younger woman over coffee, about the business from what I could hear.

“Oh, there he is,” Angela said, leaning to look over her friend’s shoulder. “Michael, come in the office! I want you to meet somebody!”

I stepped into the messy pile of papers and cut bits of flowers that composed Angela’s “office,” really just a corner of the back room with its boxes of stock. I really couldn’t believe my eyes. Despite the choker, she was still the picture of innocent cheerfulness. The two of them had been going through a catalog of decorative bags for small flower pots, checking off the prettiest ones with a purple gel-ink pen.

“Michael, this is Katie,” she said, gesturing with her coffee mug. “Katie, this is my assistant, Michael.”

Katie lifted her own mug and gave a little wave while sipping from it. I stood there dumbly, sandwich bag in hand. Katie was a willowy blonde, with blue eyes and long lashes. She had an unusually strong, almost Roman nose, but this little imperfection only made her more charming in my eyes, just like Angela’s slight belly made her all the more alluring. She was conservatively dressed, in a thick gray sweater and jeans, but hints of a lithe, feminine figure still showed.

I remembered I was supposed to talk. “Hi,” I said, setting the sandwich bag on the desk.

Angela gave me a stern, disapproving look, but only briefly. “Katie used to work for me here,” she explained. “She may be coming in to help from time to time, since we’ve been so busy lately. We were just looking at the new Stevens and Bell catalog. Do you know they’re charging ten dollars a pack for those purple foils now?”

“I don’t remember them,” Katie answered.

“Look behind you, there should be some in the lower drawer,” Angela replied. Katie turned in her chair: to reach the drawer, she was obliged to lean away from me, over the arm. I got a perfect view of her ass, athletic and tight underneath the denim. The sweater shifted up slightly above her waist, and I got a glimpse of smooth, pale skin as well.

“Take the car, Michael,” Angela said sharply. She was glaring at me, holding out the keys with her arm rigidly extended. “Go to Ollie’s and pick up three boxes of wire and another pad of sticky notes.”

I was so stunned I left without speaking. As I went out the door, canlı bahis I heard Angela’s voice, faintly: “I guess they must be in some other drawer.”

—————————————-

As I drove back to the shop from Ollie’s, my heart pounded in my chest. Angela had been absolutely furious with me. She had clearly seen my eyes slide down the length of Katie’s body, and she wasn’t happy about it. What was I in for? Had I blown the whole thing? All she had asked for was my… obedience, and here, less than a day later, I had been caught gazing at another woman.

It was nearly closing time when I got back to the shop. When I came in the door, the place was empty. Angela was standing behind the counter, arms folded, unsmiling.

“Close the door behind you and leave the wire on the counter,” she said. “And when I say ‘close’, I mean LOCK. Turn the sign around.”

I did as I was told, and waited nervously in the center of the room for my next instruction.

“Come upstairs,” she said, and marched out of the room.

I followed her to the back room and up the stairs to her apartment. We stopped in the half-lit living room, where she turned and glared at me again.

“What was that all about this afternoon?”

“I, I don’t know what you mean,” I answered.

“You don’t know what I mean?” Angela echoed, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “You mean to tell me you just accidentally got a hard-on while staring at my friend’s ass?”

“I didn’t mean to,” I protested.

“Why would you do something like that? Didn’t you say this morning that you were satisfied? Or are you lying?” She drew the last word out slowly, like a knife. “Or maybe,” she continued, closing in on me and whispering into my ear, “Maybe, it’s because you’re just a dirty-minded boy and all you think about is fucking. Is that it?” While her left hand pressed into my back, her right trailed down to my crotch where, against my will, my cock was straining against the fabric of my jeans. She groped the lump and sighed. “You’re still thinking about it, aren’t you? Tsk, tsk. What a slut.”

“Close your eyes,” she said, gripping me tighter. I did. “Who is it? Whose hands, whose mouth, whose hot cunt are you fucking in that dirty little fantasizing mind of yours? Is it me? Or is it Katie?”

Deftly, she unzipped my fly, and reached inside, encircling the shaft of my cock with her hand.

“It’s you,” I said, holding my eyes shut tight and wincing with pleasure as Angela began to squeeze and massage my hard dick.

“Is it?” she asked. “Don’t lie to me, Michael.”

I nodded my head, eyes still closed. Despite my desire to bar her image from my mind, I saw Katie. I imagined her lips covering my cock, her blue eyes looking up at me expectantly, sucking.

“It’s her,” I confessed, voice breaking. Angela’s grip tightened around my erection, hard, and her nails dug into me painfully.

“You dirty little fucker,” she muttered, releasing me in disgust. My head and shoulders drooped, my eyes stayed closed. I had ruined everything.

Suddenly, I felt her mouth cover my cock. She swallowed my erection, taking it deep into her throat, then released it just as quickly. I gasped and opened my eyes. She licked her lips, then rose to her feet and looked me in the eyes.

“If I catch you staring at Katie one more time, I’ll never do that again. Do I make myself clear?”

I nodded.

“Answer me,” she demanded.

“You’re clear,” I replied.

“Go home,” she said. “Come to work at the usual time tomorrow. And don’t touch yourself. I don’t want you to cum again until I give you permission.”

—————-

For the next week, Angela didn’t wear the choker. Nor did she invite me upstairs. Indeed, everything was like it had been before. The only difference was that I no longer lay in bed at night, stroking myself to orgasm while dreaming of her soft body. Instead, I lay there frustrated, the memory of it as painfully real as my throbbing cock. The occasional brush with her in the tiny shop was all the more excruciating. I nearly came every time.

Making matters worse, Katie had joined us, filling in on Tuesdays and Thursday afternoons to help keep up with the orders. She wasn’t a conventionally beautiful woman, really, but her trim, athletic build didn’t take away from her femininity, either, and something about her sharp facial features made me shiver. Bound to obey Angela’s command, I did my best to avoid looking at her, but one glimpse of her tight ass could set me on edge for a whole day. I crossed my fingers and hoped Angela would forgive me.

Another week went by. The need between my legs had become so pressing that I thought of sex constantly. It wasn’t just Angela and Katie anymore; anytime a woman came into the store, my thoughts turned to soft lips and heavy breasts and hot, wet folds of flesh gripping my hardness. I became more timid, afraid to speak, afraid that in a moment of weakness I might betray the crushing desire for sexual satisfaction. I was like a hungry animal.

On Friday afternoon, as we locked the door, Angela turned to me and said, kaçak iddaa “You’ve been very good, Michael. Very good indeed. I’m impressed by your devotion.”

Then she reached into her pocket, retrieved the choker, and delicately encircled her neck. It was so silent in the shop that I heard the clasp snap shut.

“Come here,” she said, arms open.

We kissed, passionately. She licked and nibbled at my lips and shoved her tongue insistently into my mouth. Without another word, she led me through the back of the shop, up the stairs to her bedroom, and began to undress. I watched, trembling with anticipation, my cock already rock-hard and straining. First the sweater, then the white blouse beneath it, then the sapphire-blue bra. She stood there for just a moment, as if posing, still wearing her black business slacks below, tits proudly jutting beyond her white belly above, dusky nipples erect. Clasping her hands and raising them above her head like a ballerina, she arched her back, pushing her breasts out even more, and shook them from side to side slightly.

“Get undressed,” she ordered.

I stripped, quickly, my hard dick springing from the confines of my boxers as I pushed them to the floor. She peeled away her slacks to reveal her naked pussy to me — she must have been like that all day, no panties, separated from the world by just one thin layer of fabric. Reaching down, she parted her glistening folds and gently stroked them.

“Come and fuck me,” she said.

We fell into bed together with me on top, sliding comfortably between her soft thighs. My cock found her opening easily and I thrust deeply into her. After the weeks of deprivation it was even more heavenly than the first time. She was hot and wet and soft and smelled of dirty female sex, everything I dreamed of, and I fucked her unconsciously, driving myself further in with each stroke.

I hardly lasted a minute before moaning and falling against her as my knees buckled with pleasure. I tried to pull out, but her hands gripped my ass as I shook and pumped two weeks’ worth of pent-up cum into her. Panting, I collapsed against her, suddenly aware that I was covered in sweat.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, “I just, it’s been so long, and I couldn’t -“

“Shhh,” she replied. “Don’t pull out of me. Stay in me.” Once again, I felt her muscles constrict around my softening erection, rippling around it gently.

“I love that feeling,” she continued. “When you cum inside me. I can feel it, little liquid pieces of you… I like the thought that I’ve got you in there, you give me part of yourself, and fill me with it.”

She must have seen the troubled look on my face, because she guessed exactly what I was thinking.

“There’s nothing to worry about, Michael. Let me tell you a story.” She laughed. “It’ll probably help you understand a lot about me, actually.”

I rolled over and curled up next to her, draping my arm across her belly, laying my head against the side of her breast. She ran her fingers through my air, absent-mindedly, as she began to speak. It never once struck me as odd that we should be so comfortable. Already, my new life was seeming normal.

“I was married once, you know,” Angela began, gazing up at the ceiling. “To a wonderful man. He had thick, chestnut-brown hair and these deep-set brown eyes that were just absolutely arresting. I was twenty-one, barely out of high school when we met, but I loved his deep voice and the way he made me feel so secure. He was quite a bit older than me, already past thirty, and people whispered about us behind our backs. But I didn’t care. I loved him and I wanted to do everything I could to please him, to make him happy.”

“Almost as soon as we were married we started trying for a baby. At first we figured it would just happen, you know, if it was so hard, why was anyone ever an accident? But as time went by, and I still didn’t get pregnant, we began to wonder.” For a moment she smiled, but her eyes still gazed into the distance. “At first we just tried harder, if you catch my drift. When he was home from work, we’d do it three times a day. But it didn’t work. Eventually I went to see a doctor about fertility treatments, and that’s when I learned I was sterile.”

“Joe — that was my husband — he took it really hard. I always wanted children, but he was older, and didn’t want to wait. Now it looked impossible. They tried to talk to us about all sorts of other treatments I could have, all that awful test-tube stuff — but he wouldn’t have any of it. Something about the whole thing just shocked him to the core. I tried to talk him out of it, but he just sank deeper and deeper into this sadness. Eventually, he started coming home from work late, and drunk. I blamed myself. I felt like I had failed him.”

“It’s not your fault, Angela,” I said, craning my neck to look up at her.

“I know that, now,” she replied, sighing through a smile. “But I didn’t then. One morning I came home from the store and found a note on the kitchen counter. He was gone, and I knew I was never going to see him again.”

“I couldn’t stand to stay in that house, kaçak bahis alone, and so I moved down into the city, away from that life, away from the few people I had left. I found a little apartment and a job at this, sort of upscale bar, where they kept me on as the late-night hostess. It was everything I needed — simple, anonymous, a place where I could have cheap drinks after hours with the bartenders and try to forget Joe. I was friends with all the waitresses, we’d sit around and chit-chat when it was slow. And it was slow a lot, but somehow, the place stayed open. More than that, we started to notice that even after certain customers left, we’d see their cars parked down the block, hours later.”

“I thought some sort of awful criminal business was going on, and because I was young and stupid I decided to investigate it myself. So, one night, at closing time, I followed the last of the regulars out the door. It was a middle-aged couple, well-to-do… his wife was so glamorous, or looked it to me at any rate. Sure enough, they walked right past their car, around the corner, and into the alley. There was a side door back there that nobody used, you could hardly see it from the street. They went right in. After a moment, I screwed up my nerve and followed. The door was unlocked, but it led directly to a long, dimly-lit staircase. When I got to the top, I rounded a corner a plowed right into a big, burly man in a suit. I thought for sure I was dead.”

“I must have said something like that, because he laughed at me, this big masculine chuckle. He looked down at me, and I shivered as I watched his eyes travel up and down my body.”

” ‘You sure you know where you’re going, miss?’ he asked me. I nodded and he laughed again. ‘Don’t be nervous,’ he said. ‘They’ll be happy to have someone like you here.’ It was then that I realized he was guarding a solid steel door, with a plain sign on it that said ‘The Alexis Club: Couples, $50. Single Ladies, Free.’ “

“A swingers’ club?” I asked Angela.

“More than that,” she continued. “The swingers seemed to be the main business, but there was more than just that going on. It took me a while to soak it all in… the whole place was well-decorated, simple and subdued, but the walls were red, and everything inside seemed more sensual, somehow. I suppose that’s the idea. I wandered down the halls, peering in the doors that stood ajar. I’d never seen anything like it. In one room, three women lay sprawled on a king-size bed, moaning softly, each licking another so that their bodies formed a perfect triangle. In another, a statuesque black domme was pushing her man’s face into her chest while spanking him. Up and down the hallways, the customers wandered, singly or in pairs, wrapped in simple bathrobes, while servers, male and female, whisked through with bottles of champagne, or other things…”

Angela’s hand left my hair and trailed downward, where she let it hang loosely around my stiffening cock, gently stroking me with one finger.

“Eventually I found the wealthy couple from the bar. They were in one of the smallest rooms, with just a mattress on the floor. The wife was on her hands and knees, shiny with sweat — she had the glazed look in her eyes of someone who’s on another plane — and while her husband pounded her from behind, another, younger man knelt before her and slipped his dick between her lips. I just froze in the doorway, staring. They were so different: the husband was barrel-chested and hairy, with huge, strong hands and a wide jaw, while the younger man was crafted out of smooth muscle, thin and young and tan. The wife was lost, gone, covered up in pleasure that I could only imagine as I watched the two cocks drive in and out of her in time, one set of hands pulling at her hips, another at her shoulders… I felt myself getting wet immediately, I hadn’t had a man since Joe… I’d forgotten why.”

“Now I remembered, and I wanted to be that woman. I wanted to be hot and sweaty and disappear into a kaleidoscope of physical sensations… I wanted to be fucked and kneaded and worked over like soft clay on a potter’s wheel, just disappear, turn into whatever they wanted to make me. Before I knew what I was doing, I had taken off my top and bra and approached the bed. They weren’t the least bit surprised. Instead, the threesome stopped for a moment, and the young man moaned loudly, growled, and I realized he was cumming.”

“I expected one of the men to grab me first, but it was the wife, who reached for my neck and pulled me down to the bed, where she kissed me roughly. Hot seed spilled from her lips into mine and I churned it around with my tongue… the younger one had really filled her, there was just loads of it, sticky and… I’d never kissed a woman before, certainly not like this. I was afraid to swallow, so I pulled away and let the warm, white liquid drip from my lips, down my chest, over my tits. The husband smiled appreciatively and withdrew from his wife, who traced her fingers across my breasts to scoop up a bit of cum. While she licked at her fingertips delicately, I felt the young man’s hands reach for the waist of my skirt. That’s when I noticed the mirror leaning against the wall. I looked really silly, I’m afraid — twenty-two, sitting on the floor with my tits hanging out, legs splayed sideways, still wearing my work skirt, even my ‘sensible’ black shoes with the bottoms like sneakers.”

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