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Servitude Ch. 03

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AUTHOR’S NOTE: This story and all characters are fiction. All characters are over eighteen.

Content: This story contains scenes of female dominance, Female Led Relationship, mature male servant, bi-sex, cum drinking, anal sex, and pegging.

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Wake Up Duties and a Day Out

“Slave — wake up! Get up here and lick my pussy!” Mistress Val demanded loudly.

I had been in Mistress Val’s service now for a couple of weeks. She had decided to accept my servitude on a provisional basis. If I continued to please and amuse Her, and learned quickly, I would be allowed to become Her collared submissive boi. She had taken to training me to behave and perform as She expected, giving me punishments when I did not meet the mark (or sometimes just because She felt like venting Her sadistic inclinations on me), and conditioning my responses with rewards when I exceeded Her expectations.

I was chained to bed, naked except for chastity device, bells, slave collar as usual. The chains were just long enough to allow me to reach the bathroom in case I had to go during the night. When I did need to use the bathroom, I would pick up the chains with my hands and move as quietly as I could to keep the chains from clanking so that I would not wake my Mistress. The Florida heat made it bearable to sleep naked on the floor, the scratchy carpet made me itch, and I would sometimes need to sleep on my stomach when I had been caned or whipped to the point of bleeding to avoid staining the carpet. I stirred and clambered up to the foot of the bed and kissed my way from Her feet to her calves, Her thighs, and then up to the paradise of Her pussy.

As I did on most every day, I spread her labia softly with my fingers and lapped Her outer lips, kissed Her inner thighs, then ran my tongue up the cleft of Her crotch from Her asshole, over Her perinium, up Her lower lips, and then using a broad tongue, licked Her clit, which usually elicited a slight shudder from Her. I continued these long licks, each time spending a slightly longer time tickling Her clit on the upstroke, and running my tongue into Her vaginal tunnel, deeper and deeper each time. When I could feel Her thigh muscles start to flex and twitch, accompanied by the rhythmic undulation of Her hips, I ran my finger inside of her pussy and began to stroke Her G-spot, thrusting my finger, then two fingers inside of Her as She began to softly moan. I could feel the effects of my worship as my fingers began to become coated with Her juices, flowing down over my hand and washing my face with Her sticky sex liquids. Once She began to buck and spasm, she yelled out; “Suck my clit, you fucking slave! Fuck me with your slutty mouth, bitch! Uuuuum — drink EVERY drop of my squirt, you whore! Don’t you spill a single drip on my bed!”

Her fluids flooded my mouth as She came, and I struggled to swallow every ounce of the salty, nearly sour, acrid juices. As I drank from the spigot of Her pussy, I could taste the cum of her previous night’s lover mixed with Her cum and squirt juices.

I had the privilege and reward of licking and sucking them both prior to their epic fucking session and I was chained at the foot of the bed to watch or occasionally suck on Her toes when She shoved them into my mouth as they carried on. Usually, She had me clean Her and Her lovers up after they had sex, but last night, She had fallen asleep after a particularly strenuous bout of extended fucking and sucking.

Her lover from last night had quietly awoken in the morning and dressed. He poked me with his toe and woke me up just before he buttoned up his Levis and directed me to kneel in front of him and open my mouth. He pointed to his cock, then my mouth. I cleaned off the previous night’s sex from his stiffening penis and licked his shaft and cock head thoroughly clean until he softly grunted then pulled his cock out of my mouth, leaving a drop of pre-cum on my outstretched tongue. He winked at me and buttoned up his pants, bent over and gave Mistress Val a sweet kiss on the cheek, and then silently left the house.

After my Mistress’s wake-up orgasm She rolled over and inspected the bed for wet spots, smiling when She verified that the sheets were dry except for the cum dribblings from the previous night. She stretched out languidly ataşehir escort and slowly came around to waking up fully. She swung her gorgeous legs over the side of the bed and grabbed the keys to my shackles from Her nightstand. “Get down on your knees, slave!” She instructed as She approached me. My eyes were transfixed on Her delectable feet as She moved towards my kneeling body. I furtively watched Her sensual naked body as She bent over and unlocked my wrists and ankles from the chains that attached me to the bed.

“Did you like the taste of my lover’s cum in my pussy, slave?” She chided.

“Yes, Mistress. Anything that comes from You is a delightful reward. Thank You!” I replied.

“Go put on your frilly apron and make me some breakfast, slave.” She purred as She put on Her silky robe.

I quickly crawled over to the drawer that held my uniforms and put on my apron, then scrambled into the kitchen and made Her an omelet, cut up some fruit, toasted some bread, and brewed the coffee. I set out Her plate, silverware, napkin, orange juice, and cup of coffee. Once the food was ready, I crawled into the bedroom to inform Mistress Val that Her breakfast was ready for Her. She smiled and attached a lease to my collar and pulled me crawling back into the kitchen.

I pulled out Her chair for Her to sit and scooted it in for Her as She sat. “Good boi.” She said as She ate Her breakfast. I knelt in silence at Her feet, wishing that She would allow me to lick Her feet as She ate. Sometimes She would let me worship Her beautiful feet while She ate the food I had prepared for Her, though today I had to lust after Her feet as I sat quietly. From time to time, She would kick at my chastity cage and giggle as I flinched and squirmed.

“That was satisfactory,” She said after She finished eating, referring to the meal, “Now clean up these dishes and then come to the bathroom to help me shower and then lick my ass while I put on my makeup, boi.” This also was part of the daily routine now that W/we had adjusted to my full-time service. I pulled out Mistress’s chair as She arose. She padded barefoot into the bathroom, Her feet softly echoing on the floor as She walked.

I cleaned up, washed, and dried the dishes and cooking utensils, wiped off the table and counters and gave a quick mopping to the floor. Within ten minutes I was crawling into the bathroom where my Mistress was naked and was sitting on the commode, and just getting up from the toilet when I entered, and She was impatiently tapping Her foot. I worried that I had taken too long to clean up the kitchen and might be in for some punishment.

“Get over here and lick me clean, boi!” She ordered me as part of the normal established routine. I immediately crawled in between Her legs as She slightly squatted down to allow me to lick up the drops of urine that were present on Her marvelous pussy. She then turned around and bent over the sink and offered Her ass to me to lick clean. The scent of Her pooter was sweetly tangy, and the taste of Her hole was not so bad. As I rimmed Her hole and drove my tongue deeper and deeper inside Her anus, Her ass became clean, and She drove Her butt onto my face when the tickling amused Her.

“Get the water going for me.” She told. I removed my wrist and ankle cuffs as I had been taught to do before a shower. I turned on the shower water and got the temperature just right as She liked it and indicated to Her when it was ready for Her to enter. I held Her hand as She stepped in, then followed Her into the steaming shower stall. She raised Her arms above Her head, and I used the soap and washcloth to lather Her up as I had been trained, using the loofa to scrub dead skin off of Her luscious body, finally rinsing Her silky skin to a squeaky clean sheen. “You may kiss my pussy, slave.” She granted. I licked Her wet pussy and tickled Her clit, running a finger into Her asshole while the water ran over us, as She had taught me to do. “That’s enough, boi.” She said as She pulled me up from my knees. She wacked my chastity cage with Her hand just to assert Her control, then smacked my wet ass hard several times and said, “OK slave, get out.”

I exited the shower and took Her hand again to help Her out, then toweled Her off to dry Her divine body. She mecidiyeköy escort again bent over the sink as She applied Her makeup for the day and pointed to Her ass. I followed my training, and I ravenously dove into Her ass cheeks, spreading them with my hands as I sought out Her wonderful bung hole. She was talking on Her phone with someone and took a few pictures of me eating Her ass and sent them to Her friend. They giggled as they talked about my devoted service to Her.

“That’ll do, boi.” She said pushing my head away from Her ass. “Go put on your uniform for today, slut.” She instructed, “Today I want you to put in the medium butt plug, and wear the harness to hold it in, then put the frilly apron on over that. I want you to wear the nipple clamps with the bells on them so I can hear where you are. After that you can do your chores until we are ready to go out.” My chores normally consisted of cooking, doing the dishes, vacuuming, mopping, collecting, and washing the laundry, dusting all surfaces, meticulously cleaning the bathrooms, collecting and taking out the garbage, detailing car, doing any needed handyman fixes, making the meal lists and getting the groceries, and running miscellaneous errands. These chores usually kept me busy all day while Mistress was at work, though She had the day off today and evidently had other plans.

“Mistress, may I ask where we are going out today?” I hesitantly queried.

“You may ask, slave. I am going to meet with Mistress Marie today and I want you to come with. You will be wearing your collar and the Hush remote butt plug while we are out, boi.”

My pulse quickened and I recalled my initiation “interview” and briefly serving Mistress Marie at that time. I knew that Mistress Marie was definitely interested in using a male slave after having gotten a taste of it a couple weeks ago. “Yes, Ma’am.” I obediently responded.

My Mistress Val spent the time while I was doing my chores chatting with Her friends on the phone, reading some of Her books, relaxing on the couch, occasionally telling me to crawl over and rub Her feet, or bring Her a beverage, or bend over for a few swats with the paddle or a bare-handed spanking. I proceeded with my tasks for a few hours, taking special care to perform each with precision in just the way I had been trained. I had finished cleaning the bathrooms, collecting the laundry and starting a wash.

“Time for inspection, slave!” Mistress Val announced. This was also a standard part of O/ur routine. She stood up, smoothing out silky robe, and then went around and checked to see if I had done my tasks to her satisfaction. I crawled behind Her while she looked at the bathrooms and winced when She noticed a few specks of dirt in the corners that I had missed.

“Ass up, boi!” She barked. I lowered my head to the floor and raised my ass up while kneeling. WHAP! She brought down the riding crip She was carrying hard on my left ass cheek. WHAP! The crop rained pain upon my right ass cheek. WHAP WHAP WHAP WHAP WHAP WHAP! The blows rained in fast succession until Her arm got tired and Her face was flushed.

“Damn! I really love having you here to beat whenever I feel like it, slave!” She allowed, “I guess you are still learning how to clean properly. I like the red glow to your ass now — it is cute!” She complimented. I was grateful to be the subject for fulfilling Her desire for administering punishment, though embarrassed that I had not completed my task correctly.

She attached my leash to my chastity device and tugged on it to get me to follow Her to the next room. I crawled behind Her, my ass on fire, and dreading further punishment. We went into the kitchen, and She inspected each of the dishes, silverware, glasses, cups and utensils and frowned. “Tsk, tsk, tsk!” She uttered, “It looks like you need more spankings!” She smiled, pointing to a water mark on a glass that was invisible.

I was still trying to learn exactly what the expectations were so I asked Her for clarification in order for me to do a better job next time. “Mistress, I can’t see what You are pointing to. I there something I am missing?”

“You are missing that I am in charge here, and whatever I say goes!” She screamed at me, “If I say that you will be punished, you do maltepe escort not get a voice in that — got it? Anytime I just feel like beating you, I will do so. That is what you signed up for!!”

This is in fact what I had signed up for in the contract W/we had both signed. The only boundaries were no permanent physical damage, no scat, animals, or kids were to be involved. She was not to demand that I do anything illegal. I was allowed to keep some contact with my family and friends. I was to give Her money from my Social Security and pensions to pay for rent, food, and utilities. In all other aspects I was to worship Her and follow any commands and comply with any training that She set forth. I was nervous at first about giving such complete an utter control to Her, but in the end, my deep-seated compulsion to serve Her won out. I had wondered if my mind was being controlled like a Qanon adherent, disregarding any facts or conditions that might wake me up to this being “unhealthy”. I carefully weighed the pros and cons and decided that being Her slave is what I truly wanted, desired, needed. So I sighed and agreed that I should take whatever punishment She meted out.

“Ass up, bitch!” She scolded. I knew that I had provoked Her and that this dose of ass-swatting would be much worse than the last. Again, She tore into me, though this time with a vengeance and an unbridled fury, each blow harder than the last, stinging, welting, bruising, deep pain that ran to my gut and up to my head. I cried and whimpered as She continued Her torrent of pain. My eyes were swollen with tears when She finally slowed down the pace and then stopped from exhaustion. “You should remember that lesson for at least a day or two!” She chortled as She surveyed the damage She had done to my flaming red ass cheeks.

“I want a pedicure now, boi. Go get the kit and came back into the living room and paint my toenails.”

I winced as I crawled off to go fetch the pedicure kit from the bathroom and returned right away. She took a seat in Her easy chair and draped Her lovely feet over the ottoman. It almost seemed like a reward to be allowed to caress and make artistic love to Her toes if it wasn’t for the enduring pain throbbing from my ass. After I had removed the old polish, cleaned each toenail, defoliated Her feet and rubbed them with coconut oil, I flawlessly painted Her toenails with a bright pink color to match the color I had applied to Her fingernails the day before. When I was done, She sat relaxing while the paint dried, Her silky robe open and revealing her sex. I began to drool at the sight of Her lithe legs and Her divine pussy.

“Now go take off the harness and remove the plug. Go in the shower and give yourself a good enema, wash off and then shove that Hush butt plug inside you. When you have that done, put on your hot pants, tee shirt, and sandals, slave. You will wear the collar and your ankle slave bells while we are out. We are getting ready to go out.” She instructed, content that She had gotten my attention for the day.

When I had complied with Her instructions, I heard Her call me to the bedroom. “Help me get dressed, boi.” She said as She opened up Her phone to test the Hush remote, giving me a strong jolt of vibration to my sensitive ass. I helped Her put on a set of crotchless panties, a thin sundress, and Her mules. She looked stunning. “Go get the car started, slave.” She commanded.

I went outside to the car, slightly embarrassed to be wearing the pink hot pants (but getting used to it after that last couple of weeks). When the motor was running and the AC was colling the car, I went up to the house door and accompanied my Mistress to the car, opening the passenger door for Her and helping Her in. I returned to the driver’s seat and got ready to drive. She reached over and roughly grabbed my chastity cage through my shorts and shook it, instantly getting my attention. “You know that I only beat you like that because you need it, don’t you, slave?” She demurely asked me.

“Yes, Mistress. Thank You.” I sheepishly replied, somewhat surprised that She was showing some concern for me, even if it was to validate my consent to Her authority and control.

Meeting Mistress Marie at an outdoor patio

Being told to crawl underneath the tablecloth draped over the table that hid me from view. The Hush being buzzed when they wanted my attention. Servicing both Mistresses as they snacked, drank iced tea, and chatted. Worshipping their feet after each had cum while the Hush reacted to the music on the loud speakers.

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If I’m Honest – Picture Perfect Ch. 03

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Chapter 3 – Cartagena, Colombia

Cartagena was my first trip for the Near Horizon, and it felt like finally coming up for air after two years. Having spent so long locked down, trapped in Toronto, to be back doing what I really loved was incredible, and I tried to savour every second of it from the moment the plane door opened. It helped that in the days that had followed my encounter with Cassie, Harvey had been distinctly quiet, letting me shift thoughts of romance, and the dim awareness of her presence, into the back of my mind in favour of my excitement to be travelling again. The one remaining, but welcome, reminder of the oddness I’d found myself in the middle of was Dani, and the ongoing sexting we were still indulging in daily.

The city itself dates back to the 1500s, having sprawled out to be home to almost a million people since then, but with the picturesque cobbled streets of the old spanish port still perched on the edge of the Caribbean alongside pristine beaches. Despite being the middle of the Colombian winter, January was still the high season for tourists, escaping from North America to where the temperatures remained warm and the sky was as azure as my hair. I’ve always preferred to try and get to places when the crowds aren’t there to make my job easier. It’s that much harder to sell a sense of place when you have people who look just like me in the back of the shot, but it’s nothing I don’t know how to work around, and I found myself venturing out at 5am in the mornings to have the sights to myself. And even in the half-light the colours of the city were vivid enough to leave Canada feeling like a washed out dream.

I had a little over three weeks to play with, and with that much time to play with I’ve always liked to take the first couple of days wandering, scouting out the location and capturing anything that catches my eye. As well as occasionally paying off with some good shots, I find it helps me really start planning out where I want to go back to and take my time to get the perfect shot. And so I ended up wandering the streets of the Old Town with nothing but my favourite 35mm lens, drinking in the heat and the colonial architecture, laid out like a mosaic in brightly painted pastels. I lingered where the locals were, walked in the opposite direction to crowds, hopped buses, and blew the ring rust off my Spanish to talk with anyone who’d listen. And by the end of the second day I’d already added several dozen pages of annotations and sketches to my notebook, doodling out composition ideas and referencing them against recommendations, weather forecasts and tide times. Which meant that by the third day, with my excitement to start working in earnest palpable, I was ready to meet with my fixer.

A good fixer is one of the profession’s secret weapons, having someone local who can help you access the places tourists aren’t allowed, or arrange for the extra little touches you need to sell a shot. I’d asked around several of my contacts before leaving, and had been given the name of a woman called Luisa who came with the most glowing recommendation possible from another freelancer I’d worked with at NatGeo. She’d warned me in advance that she was going to be out of the city visiting family for the holidays for the start of my trip, but we’d already ended up with a long string of emails and whatsapp messages discussing exactly which churches and rooftops she was going to be able to get me into alongside promises of home cooked food. I’d even made a vague mention of wanting to set up a shot of some local kids playing street soccer with the 400 year old cathedral in the background, and she’d quickly agreed to rope her nephews to help.

With everything she was already promising to do for me, I’d insisted she didn’t make the trip out to where my hotel was on a strip of sleek, american developed resort next to one of the beaches, away from where I actually wanted to be. Instead I found myself heading to her place just outside the Old Town as sunlight started to stir fully. The address I’d be given was in the Getsemani neighbourhood, where 20th century apartments did their best to blend in with narrow rows of characterful yet grubby colonial buildings, contemporary street art set alongside fading facades and chipped plaster. I found Luisa’s door on an old two storey apartment, watched by a disinterested cat from a balcony clustered with pot plants, and as I rang the doorbell was met by a handful of curses from the other side.

“Ay, mierda!”

A few moments later and the door swung open, giving me my first glimpse of my new guide, who very much wasn’t ready for me. Luisa still had her toothbrush in her mouth, a mane of dark frizzy hair still very much untamed from bed. She had to be in her early 40s, but was casually gorgeous in a way that made me feel plain, even in the casual slip of a white vest that I had to guess she’d slept in. Her bottom had already been covered, at least, with a brightly patterned Ataköy travesti skirt that I’d quickly come to appreciate for how it showed off her long, incredible legs as she walked, while her right arm was equally colourful, patterned with a haphazard patchwork of tattoos. The ink was complimented by a slender silver ring to one side of her nose, but it was the faint outline of piercings poking through her shirt and the generous press of her cleavage that really left me struggling not to look.

“Sorry, you must be Riley,” she mumbled, accented, apologetic English made more difficult by the toothbrush in her mouth, before holding up her hand with fingers spread. “Five minutes.”

I responded in Spanish with an apology of my own, “Now, I’m sorry, I forgot I was on latin time now.” I’m the sort of person who’s painfully punctual, and it can be an adjustment to remember when I’m in parts of the world that run at their own pace, with a 6am meet up really meaning some time after half past. “I can come back?”

Luisa wandered back into the small, open plan apartment as I spoke, most of the space filled with a clutter of books, clothing and houseplants, the decor a busy clash of red painted walls and warm fabrics. Still visible from the doorway as she reached the kitchen sink to swill away the toothpaste, she waved a hand as she did so, summoning me inside.

“Don’t be silly,” she chided. “How do you take your coffee, Hermosa?”

The term was just one of flirty endearment, with easy familiarity, but hearing it from Luisa it made my stomach do a brief little flip as I quickly crushed on her. I’m sure I must have replied, since she moved to use the coffee machine on the counter, but in the moment my attention was taken up by Harvey choosing to speak up again after a week of silence.

‘You know your mouth’s open right? You’re *really* not subtle when you like someone are you?’

‘Would you shut the hell up,’ I shot back mentally in protest, although the embarrassment that went with the thought was loud enough that any denial would have rung truly hollow. It had been a long enough time since my first experience speaking with Harvey that it all felt a little alien having her voice in my head again, and I had to check to make sure I hadn’t blurted out my response out loud. Luisa however, to my relief continued to busy herself fetching mugs. At least until I felt a small tug of magic in her direction, from the bracelet at my wrist, as if Harvey were tentatively testing the waters. In response the older woman absently glanced back over her shoulder at me, smiling.

“You can sit down, you know,” she said, her Spanish much prettier than my own.

For the second time, I’m sure I must have replied to her, but I was too busy bickering with Harvey to hear what my own words were. I did manage to find a chair however, moving aside several well-worn paperbacks on European history so I could sit.

‘What are you doing,’ I hissed in my own head.

The reply, spoken directly into my thoughts, was filled with its own dry amusement. “Come on, you don’t need me to answer that for you. You like her, what do you think I’m doing?”

‘I’m here for work, I can’t just…’ I started out insistent, but trailed off as I tried not to let Harvey hear whatever thoughts might have finished that sentence.

‘Right, of course not, that would just be impossible. Look Riley, I’ve tried to take a light touch for the last few days for you, I didn’t see anyone I was sure you were going to be into so I didn’t steer anyone your way, but I’ve still got a job to do. You can either be honest about the women you are into, and trust me, I don’t need to be in your head to know that here, or we can start being a little more indiscriminate. Your call.’

I grabbed for another objection. ‘She’s at least 10 years older than me.’

‘You do realise I can tell how little you care about that right now, right?’

Luisa made her way over, passing me my coffee, regarding me with a look of curiosity behind the brown of her eyes, evidently picking up that my thoughts were wandering. “So do you just not say much or has the mess stunned you into silence?”

“No, sorry, definitely not that. I’m just tired,” I half-lied, trying to shut Harvey back out. “I had a late night.”

The hispanic woman grinned in response, no doubt left with images of me enjoying one of the local bars rather than editing photos in my hotel room until 1am. I watched as she wandered across to where clothes stood drying on a rack near a window and paused to assess her options.

“I hope Cartagena’s making a good impression so far?”

“Yes, it’s been…”

I started to reply, but felt the words dry up in my mouth as rather than take her clothing to change elsewhere, Luisa simply shrugged her vest off in front of me. I had already got the sense that she was wonderfully casual, but hadn’t expected for it to stretch quite so far so quickly, and I was left caught between Ataköy travestiileri deciding if looking away or simply just looking was going to be more obvious. I opted to try and be nonchalant, and was treated to a view of her generous chest as she collected a bra from the rack, a pair of silver barbells confidently piercing each of her dark nipples. She caught my eye as she did so and smiled again, leaving me unsure of just how knowing the display was.

“You have an idea of what pictures you want us to take at least,” she asked, slipping on a loose fitting shirt as if the situation were the most natural in the world.

Gratefully, I took the opportunity to reach for my bag and used the seconds it took to fetch my notebook to avoid looking too much like a wide-eyed teenager in front of the older woman. “You could say that,” I said, holding up several pages to show her. “Your city is a creative’s dream come true.”

“I prefer history personally, but you won’t find me arguing with you.”

Luisa, still fastening the final buttons on her shirt, wandered towards me to look closer. I watched her perch on the arm of my chair, and as she reached out to take the notepad from me I felt another encouraging little pull from Harvey, causing her fingers to brush against my own.

‘Ok, I give in, you win. but can you pleeease, stop,’ I mentally begged Harvey. ‘Let me do this at my own pace at least.’

The bracelet gave another of its odd, mental sighs, relenting with no small amount of exasperation. ‘Have it your way. This is much easier when you just trust I know what I’m doing, but if you want some extra rope to hang yourself with who am I to stop you.’

I bristled back, but already knew not to push my luck or chance protesting further and waited as the taut pull of the bracelet’s magic eased, allowing Luisa’s attention on my notes to go unchallenged. Plush lips curved into a smile as she thumbed through the pages, and for a moment I struggled with myself rather than Harvey, knowing that I could simply lean up and kiss them if I wanted, a large part of me wanting to throw caution and any professional worries to the warm Caribbean wind.

Fortunately for the photographer in me, Luisa’s own enthusiasm for my plans was easy to get caught back up in, and we spent a short while going through several of my ideas. I loved how readily she challenged things. She was quick to point out things I may have overlooked, or to offer alternative ways to approach some of the shots I wanted, be it a subtle difference to framing she knew she could help arrange, or knowing better locations across town to try instead. The only outright refusal to help me came towards the end, as she studied the list of the trips out of the city I wanted to take.

“Mmm. I don’t think I’m the right person to help you with this one. Can it wait until nearer to the end of your stay,” she asked, trailing a finger down to one neatly written bullet point where I had simply written ‘El Totumo’ alongside some possible dates and times.

My heart sank a little. El Totumo was the name of a nearby mud volcano, a fifteen metre high mound of dusty earth, with a crater at the centre where warm mud bubbled up for visitors to bathe in. Yes it was the sort of tourist trap that was in most of the guidebooks already, but it was also somewhere I was convinced I could get something far better than the average instagram shot, and that challenge alone had put it towards the top of my list.

“It can wait, but I really was hoping to make sure I got some good pictures there.”

Luisa gave a husky chuckle as she noticed my disappointment. “Ah, no no no. I only meant that my daughter is much more familiar with that area than I am. She was planning to be back from university in a couple of weeks and could probably be convinced to take you there instead.”

My attention strayed back towards a framed picture I’d only half taken in amidst the busyness of the apartment’s clutter, set on a nearby coffee table and half obscured by another book. It was of Luisa, and a pretty young college aged girl that I could have tried kidding myself was a niece until she confirmed she had a kid. They were strikingly similar, apart from the wide framed glasses her daughter was wearing, with their arms around each other’s shoulders as they posed on a beach somewhere.

“Oh, right, I don’t know why I didn’t realise you had a kid. She looks sweet, I’d be ok with that if she is.”

I was quick to agree outwardly, but in my head the realisation still wrong footed me for some reason. I’d never had reason to put ‘no moms’ on my list of dating rules but I still found myself doing what I always did, letting little doubts creep in, second guessing myself at the first sign of any little wrinkle.

Harvey was quick to pick up on my hesitation. ‘Riley, I swear, if I had legs I would kick you.’

Oblivious to the voice in my head, Luisa gave another laugh. “Gabi, sweet? Only ever travesti Ataköy when she wants to be. She’s a handful, but I think you’ll like her.”

“It’s just you and her?”

Luisa nodded. “My mama helps. And Gabi still speaks to her father, he’s always been good. But I managed to wait until after I’d had her, and dropped out of college, before I realised I wasn’t made for dating guys.” She spoke with a practised casualness that suggested she was used to the question, without ever really having worked out if it was the best or worst mistake she had ever made. Quickly however, she tried to brush the candour aside for flirting. “God only knows how it took me so long with so many pretty American tourist’s around.”

Our eyes met, and she smiled at me, the joke exactly the sort of test of interest I was used to making. I grinned back, teasing my recognition of her interest.

“A tragedy that I’m Canadian then.” Again, it took effort to not simply kiss her there and then, but I made the effort to gather up my camera bag. Not flirting further was beyond me though. “And that I’m here to work. I suppose you’ll just have to put up with showing me around all day?”

“You mean you’ll have to tolerate me talking at you all day, no?”

There were definitely worse fates to be cursed with.

She studied my notepad entries again as I rose, more critically this time. “You will want to leave Santo Toribo church until Sunday, when people are dressed up to go to mass. And this plaza has a market tomorrow if you want to wait for it. But I have a few places I think you might have missed, if you’d like me to show you?”

“It sounds like I’d be an idiot not to let you.”

“Perfect,” Luisa beamed, closing my notebook decisively. She headed for the door and waited for me there with an offered arm. “In which case, I’m all yours Hermosa.”

******

The day we spent around the Old Town was effortless, feeling more like a date than working, and I found myself finding excuses to try and work the Columbian woman into my shots. It helped that she was effortlessly photogenic, giving things exactly the wide apertured sense of time and place I was looking for every time I pointed the camera in her direction. What really struck me however was how frighteningly smart Luisa was. It turned out she had been studying history, wanting to eventually move to the US to do a masters, when she’d become pregnant. Instead she’d found herself working odd jobs, but never stopped reading and studying for her own sake, and had managed to turn that knowledge into her own business as a private tour guide until Covid had derailed that for her too. She was a world away from the cliche of fiery latinas, easy going and astute, and by the time we stopped for dinner I was convinced there wasn’t a single brick or cobble in the city she didn’t know the exact story of.

Luisa insisted on picking where we had dinner, and I insisted on paying. The small restaurant we ended up at a few blocks from her apartment had seen better days, with locals eating outside on worn chairs, and yet it served something called Arroz de Mariscos which ended up being some of the best seafood I’ve had in my life. Luisa took every embarrassingly approving noise I made as I ate a personal victory and, despite the early start, we lingered for hours after sunset, sipping wine and talking. She was ridiculously easy company, someone I was simply happy to listen to as she expounded on literature and politics and life. And by the time she gently suggested we headed back to her place I barely even needed the encouraging shove Harvey gave us both.

“We’ve had a good day, no,” she said, kicking off her shoes as we returned to the homey clutter and warm yellow light of her apartment. “But you’ve one more thing to try before you can really say you’ve experienced Cartagena.”

“And I assume you’re about to show me?”

I watched as she made her way to the small kitchen again, admiring her ass as she stretched up to reach into a cupboard. The bottle of ominously clear spirits she produced was already half empty, the name ‘1000 Demons’ printed on it in Spanish.”

“Aguardiente, brewed locally. This is the really good stuff.”

I knew enough to know that it was Colombian liquor brewed from sugar cane, and was strong enough to justify the mischief in the older woman’s eyes. I laughed. “Fuck, Luisa, you’re going to get me…” We’d been talking Spanish all day, but the appropriate word for blackout drunk escaped me in the moment, leaving me to go back to what my Canadian-English knew. “Very very hosed.”

“A big brave girl like you? You can handle a shot or two.”

“We have more work to do tomorrow,” I protested, although the effort was meek and mostly for appearances to myself.

“And I remember someone telling me over dinner how quickly I was helping you to get through things.” Luisa had me there, I had spent an overly long amount of dinner enthusing about how well everything had been going. “You want to know what authentic is so you can capture it. Live a little for me, Hermosa.” She’d been calling me ‘beautiful’ all day, and, as she drawled out each syllable, it seemed she’d already worked out just how much I enjoyed it. She absolutely knew I couldn’t say no to her.

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Teacher and the Football Star Ch. 03

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Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
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Anal

Just to be clear this is a fictional story from my perverted mind.

I highly suggest you read parts one and two to get a full understanding of the character dynamics and an understanding of what brought the characters to their current situations. In case you don’t remember or chose not to read the earlier parts I have included some basic background information on the characters and what has led to this place.

All descriptive sex scenes are between people 18 and older.

This is a work of fiction. Any names and persons in this story are fictional and any resemblance to actual people living or dead is purely coincidental.

This story could have been placed in a number of categories including, Loving Wives, Erotic Couplings and Exhibitionist and Voyeur but I do believe the driving force of the story is Interracial Love.

Constructive comments welcome. If you don’t like interracial cuckold or wife sharing stories don’t waste your time reading or commenting on this one. Use your time to enjoy a story of the genre you might like.

Part 3

Arriving home from work had become one of my favorite times due to getting to see my 6 month old baby boy Austin. He was a chubby little fellow with rosy cheeks, big smile and the cutest laugh. I loved our little guy and of course I loved his Mother too. April came out of the nursery holding Austin and when he saw me he almost jumped out of her arms with excitement. I took Austin from April as I did everyday so she could prepare dinner. As we ate we discussed today’s events and all the cute things he had done. After dinner I gave him a bath and then put him down for the night.

As our routine April would meet me with a glass of wine as I exited Austin’s room and we would relax in the living room sometimes to talk, sometimes watch a show. Tonight April asked, “Did you see the NFL schedule released today?”

I thought that was odd coming from her until it hit me so I answered, “No I hadn’t seen it.”

She just said, “Ty’s team plays here In October on a Thursday night.” We hadn’t seen Ty for almost a year and a half. He was scheduled to play here a year ago but was injured and didn’t make the trip.

Ty was an Afro American high school student of April’s who left the mid-west and went south to play at a major SEC school. Upon graduation he was drafted in the first round by our hometown NFL team. Ty had always been infatuated with April as a student and on his return he eventually seduced her into a torrid 4 month affair that I became a willing participant in. Fortunately for me, unfortunately for April, Ty got caught by the team’s owner fucking his daughter and was traded to a team near where he played college.

Ty was 6’3″ 245 pounds of solid coal black muscle. In high school he was a shy young man who barely spoke due to a speech impediment. April, as his speech therapist, helped him overcome that impediment. With his new ability to speak clearly along with his fame he had morphed into very dominant personality that you just didn’t say no too.

April and I had shared many of fantasies of what we would do if Ty was to return and she asked me point blank, “Honey, if Ty wants to spend time with me would you be okay with that?”

I thought for a minute and then asked her even though I knew the answer, “Do you want to be with Ty if he wants you?”

She had that shit eating grin on her face and said, “If you don’t mind I would love to be with Ty again, that is if he would have me.”

“April, Ty would jump at the chance to have you again and I would like to watch. You guys are so hot together. Have you kept in touch at all since he left?”

“He actually texted me today and asked if he could see me when in town. He said he could get us tickets in the club section if we wanted to go to the game.”

“You already said yes didn’t you to seeing him and I hope for the tickets too?”

April just smiled and said, “You know me to well.”

April and I had five months to prepare for Ty’s arrival. April started working out again on a regular basis at the gym and at the pool. She said she wanted to lose the baby weight and be in better shape for Ty. She dropped about 15 pounds and firmed up and I will say she looked great. The expectation of his return also had us both on a sexual high. We made love almost every night and she was a wildcat in bed. I knew she was thinking of him at times but I didn’t care. We made arrangements well in advance for Austin to stay with April’s parents for the whole 4 day weekend.

Ty texted April that he had arranged for us to be in one of the specialty boxes with one of the minority owners of our local team, a man named Dexter Swenson. Dexter was a major real estate developer in the area and quite wealthy. I had been trying to get a business meeting with him for the last two years with no luck. Maybe this will be my chance.

As game day approached I asked April what if any plans for them had been arranged. She just said we were to meet in the bar at the hotel downtown that we first had our encounter with Ty. The team was staying Gümüşsuyu travesti there through Friday but Ty and a couple of teammates were given permission to stay through the weekend due to their local ties to the community or local college.

It was game day and we were ready to head out to the game. Ty had arranged for a car service to chauffer us around for the evening. I was in khakis and a button down shirt and loafers. April was in tight jeans, white blouse and white sandals. The jeans really showed off her tight body that she had worked on so hard getting ready to meet up with Ty again. She had her hair, makeup, finger and toes done and looked absolutely gorgeous.

Being dropped off right by the VIP entrance was a special treat and using the elevator to our assigned suite was pretty cool too. My wife knew more about football than I did and was really enjoying the game. I was more interested in the free booze and food and was setting down enjoying a little of both when Dexter came over and sat with me.

He introduced himself and we chatted some when out of the blue he asked, “Which one of the players is your wife’s bull?” I almost choked on my ham and Swiss. I knew what a bull was based on my exotic reading but was still very surprised by the question. He went on to say, “Every woman here has a bull out there including my wife, the young redhead standing next to your wife. Her bull is Anthony Daniels the safety for the visitors. They were actually lovers in college but he left to play elsewhere but when he is in town they meet up.

Dexter is at least 65 and his wife looked to be in her mid to late twenties. I guess I was surprised that a powerful man like him would let his trophy wife full around. Then I realized he was probably doing for the same reasons I am.

We talked and shared a little of how we both got to this place in our relationships. He pointed out a number of local celebrities, business executives and socialites in the room. The women were from their twenties to forties mostly but there were a couple of silver foxes most likely in their fifties or sixties. I was surprised that I knew of a few of them but had no clue of their lifestyle choice. He pointed out one news anchor lady who has a new bull from every visiting team. He did mention that not all the bulls are black.

Our local quarterback is supposedly this great family man but is regularly screwing the pastor’s wife from one of the local mega churches. Her pastor husband likes to watch and film. I asked if they were afraid of the public finding out. He just said, “Any mention of this outside of this room would lead to severe consequences both physically and professionally. There is enough influence here to bury anyone who was to say anything.” He said it calmly as he sipped his Johnny Walker blue.

There was a loud cheer and I came to find out the home team won as time ran out with a 55 yard field goal. I said my goodbyes to Dexter as we gathered up our things to leave. He smiled and said, “I will see you Saturday night at my place.”

I wasn’t aware of anything and looked at April and she said, “I will fill you in on the way to the hotel.”

It turned out Jenna, Dexter’s young wife, invited us to their place Saturday for a Cuck and Bull party. Many in the suite will be there. She said he usually has one or two a year depending when the team does not have a Sunday game. April said Jenna said they would not take no for an answer so she agreed we would attend.

We soon arrived at the hotel and the driver gave me his card and said call when you want to leave. We headed to the bar knowing Ty would probably be close to midnight before he would arrive.

We had a few drinks to loosen ourselves up and I couldn’t help but notice all the young lovelies waiting around for the chance to hookup with a pro football player. At about 11:45 the team bus arrived and the players exited with most heading straight to the bar or should I say meat market. It was amazing how quickly they paired up with a cutie.

Some sat down for a drink others took them to the elevators. No reason to waste time I guess. Ty finally arrived and walked directly to us shunning a couple of gorgeous coeds who were literally offering them to him. We stood up to greet Ty, he shook my hand and then gave April a big hug and a lingering kiss. April was already breathing hard and quite flushed. We didn’t even sit back down when Ty said, “Listen I am a little tired after that game so I think I will take Teach up to my room. Mark you can pick her up tomorrow. I will call and let you know when.” He grabbed her hand and off they went. As they were leaving April turned and looked at me gave me an embarrassed smile, turned back put her head on his shoulder as they entered the elevator.

I just sat back down to finish my drink, disappointed that I wouldn’t be witnessing their reunion. I looked around the room just in time to see this blonde babe put her head down under the table cloth as this black player sat back with his arms spread across the booth enjoying Gümüşsuyu travestileri the ministration below with a big smile on his face. I decided it was time to leave so called for the car and went home to my lonely house only to fanaticize of what was happening back at the hotel.

I entered the house and immediately poured myself a Buffalo Trace neat drank it down and poured another. I heard my phone beep that I had message. I looked at my phone to see April posing for Ty in his room fully clothed. The next one showed April with her blouse unbutton with her lacy bra showing. The next one she was topless with her nipples erect like new erasers and on her knees.

I patiently awaited my next text but was disappointed when it didn’t come. I entered the living room sat down in my recliner and fell asleep from physical and emotionally exhaustion.

About an hour later my phone beeped again and I opened to find more pictures of April. The first one showed April with her lips wrapped around Ty’s penis with her looking up at Ty with lust in her eyes. The second one showed April’s face with her tongue out covered in Ty’s cum. The third one showed April totally nude lying on the bed on her back legs spread arms out gesturing Ty to her. There was a text attached saying, “More to come.”

I had fallen back to sleep in my chair and around 2:30 AM I got another beep to find pictures of April with Ty’s cock buried deep into her pussy one in the missionary position with Ty on his Knees the second one in the doggie position. The final one showed April back on her back legs spread Ty’s cum dripping out of her swollen well used pussy. The attached text read, “Going to sleep contact you in the morning. Thanks for sharing your wife. Ty.”

Around 10:00 AM received a text and a picture, “Come and pick April up at noon. We will be in the restaurant having lunch feel free to join us.” The picture was of April asleep on her back with her left leg straight out and her right leg bent at the knee causing her right foot to touch her left knee looking like a figure four. She had dried cum up and down from her crotch to her breasts. Her pussy was red and swollen but still really moist looking. Under the picture was a caption, “Time for one more round before lunch. Got to go April is waiting.”

Ty must have fucked April four or five times. I definitely can’t match that performance. I put some clothes together for April as she only had the clothes on her back when she left with Ty. As I walked in I found the two of them eating at an outside table. I immediately notice April had on a short pair of white shorts and a multi colored top with no bra. April noticed and said, “Ty called the ladies store in the lobby and they sent these up.” I just nodded.

There was very little conversation. Finally Ty said he had to get going to see some family and friends. He said to April he might call later but not to wait up. We finished our meal and I asked if she was okay. She said she was just tired and a little sore. She just wanted to go home and get some rest. She was asleep within minutes of getting in the car.

As I drove home, while April slept, I was thinking Ty had changed since our last visit. Before he desired April now he appeared to want to dominate and use her. I don’t think April noticed but I really did not feel good about the change. It was almost like she was a toy he really wanted but now that he had her his desire was gone.

I helped her into the house up the stairs and stripped her before putting her to bed. She must have showered at the hotel as all the cum stains were gone. The only evidence was some slight bruising on her breasts and her hips. Her pussy was still red and swollen. She slept until almost 9:00 PM.

When she woke the first thing she did was check her phone and was very disappointed to find no message from Ty. She got up showered again made herself up in case Ty called. He didn’t. About midnight she got a text from Ty stating, “Can’t make it tonight see you tomorrow at the Cuck and Bull party.”

She was crushed and said, “I’m going to bed.”

I asked, “Do you want some company?”

She just responded, “You are welcomed to join me but I am to tired and sore to do anything but sleep.”

This pissed me off. Just minutes before she was willing and able to fuck Ty if he wanted her. I just said, “I will be up in a little while, sleep tight.” I spent the second night in a row in my recliner.

The next morning I awake to my electric recliner being lowered and to find my naked wife going to her knees while reaching into my boxers and grabbing my morning woody. April slowly strokes my cock and starts to apologize for last night. She says, “I took out my disappointment of Ty not wanting me last night on you when I should be grateful I have a husband who allows me to do what I did. I love you honey let me show you my gratitude.”

She then proceeded to engulf my hard as stone cock between her lips and give me a slow and sensual blowjob. She was making eye contact with me the whole Travesti Gümüşsuyu time. After a few minutes I reached down under her arm pits and gently lifted her up while saying to her, “I need to be inside you, now!”

She straddled me and slowly lowered herself down on to my cock as we passionately kissed. As I bottomed out she broke the kiss and whispered into my ear, “Please be gentle I am very tender down there.” I decided to let her control the pace and just sat back and watched my wife ride me.

After a few minutes her grinding became erratic and I knew she was on the verge of coming. I grabbed her hips and started to move her in small circles rubbing her clit on my pelvic bone. She through her head back moaned out, “I’m coming!!”

Her climax soon had me filling her pussy with, what seemed like, a gallon of cum. I had not ejaculated since the weekend started. We laid together in the recliner catching our breath for a few minutes when she whispered in my ear, “I love you.” We cuddled together until we both fell back to sleep.

We dozed off for about an hour. When we awoke we made love again. By then it was almost noon and I could tell April was getting antsy and worried she hadn’t heard from Ty. He had told her he would let her know the details of the Cuck and Bull party. I put my hand on hers and said, “Don’t worry he will call.”

April immediately went into a panic, “What if yesterday he found someone else to take, someone younger and prettier.”

“April you are very special to him he will call I’m sure just relax, have a glass of wine to calm your nerves.”

About ten minutes later while April was sipping on her second glass of wine her phone chimed. She looked down at her phone and then looked at me with a scared smile and said, “It’s an email from Ty.”

I just said, “Open it.” She did and it was an invitation to attend the Cuck and Bull party. The party was to be held at Dexter’s country estate located about a half hour out of town. We had never been there but it was renowned for holding major galas and fundraising parties for local charities. It was said it was almost 40,000 square feet.

The invitation also listed a dress code. Ladies are to wear short cocktail dresses, minimum 3″ heels and no undergarments. Cucks are to dress casual, pants, golf or Tommy like shirts and deck type shoes. Bulls can wear anything they want. No phones or electronic devices. All required to sign NDA before entering.

Ty had typed in a note at the bottom. “I will pick you and Mark up at 6:30. Make sure you discuss with Mark my rules before I arrive. See you soon.”

I looked at April and asked, “What rules, what is he talking about?”

April explained, “The other night while Ty and I were together he told me that moving forward he had one ground rule for us, meaning you and me. The rule is he is in charge he is the Alpha what he says go. If he says jump we say how high. Are you okay with this?”

“Do I have a choice?” I asked.

April frowned and said, “Not really if you want to be a part of my activities with Ty.”

“I guess I agree then.”

April went to prepare herself for Ty as I thought about what I just agreed too. April was going to be with Ty whether I agreed or not and my voyeuristic tendencies left me with no other option but to agree. How far he took his control over us was my question. I just hope I can handle what lies ahead.

It was getting close to pickup time and I was dressed in khakis, a Ryn Spooner Hawaiian shirt and my Sperry Gold Cup deck shoes. April came out looking like a million dollars. She was wearing her red cocktail dress that barely covered her nice round butt. It also had a deep V that accentuated her small but firm sensitive breasts. She also had on her 4″ matching red cum fuck me pumps that really accentuated her muscular calves and thighs. Knowing she was commando made my cock instantly hard.

As I was admiring my beautiful bride her phone chimed. She looked at it and said, “He is here.” I immediately lost my erection knowing she would be his for the rest of the night.

As we left our home we saw a large limo. The driver got out and opened the door for us. I am sure he got a good view of April’s pussy as she entered. Ty was setting in the back and gestured for April to set next to him which she did. He pointed to the seat across from them for me to take. He was wearing a black track suit with the three white stripes and a pair of white Stan Smiths. He looked very confident and gave me a stare that shook me. He wanted me to know he was in control.

As soon as we started to drive away he raised the privacy screen between us and the driver. He put his arm around April and looked at her and asked, “Did you discuss my rule with him?”

“Yes I did and he agreed.”

He looked at me and asked, “Is that right cuck?”

I just responded, “Yes I agree to your rule.”

He smiled and then said, “I’m a little tense about this party and need the edge taken off so April on your knees.” He then pointed to the floor between his legs as he pushed his pants down to his ankles, spreading his legs exposing his semi hard cock. He then said, “You have a half hour to get me off, Teach, get busy.” She immediately followed his command dropped to her knees and placed her lips around his shaft and I am sure I heard her moan as she started bobbing her head.

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Schwimmen mit der Familie 02

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Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
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Amateur

Ein paar Leute haben um eine Fortsetzung gebeten, daher setze ich mich gerne daran 🙂

Da der letzte Part einige Jahre her ist, spielt die Fortsetzung auch ein paar Jahre in der Zukunft.

Kritik und Vorschläge sind wie immer gern gesehen – aber bitte erwartet kein literarisches Meisterwerk.

Vater – Ralf: 1,83m, 80kg, braun gebrannt, großes Gemächt, sportlich, blaue Augen

Mutter – Miriam: 1,70m, 60kg, bleiche Haut, Körbchengröße 75B, rotes Haar, grüne Augen.

Tochter – Kristin: 1,75m, 65kg, weiße Haut, Körbchengröße 75D, rotes Haar, grüne Augen.

Sohn – Ben: 1,80m, 75kg, braun gebrannt, großes Gemächt, sportlich, grüne Augen

Der erwähnte Junge Ruben wird in keinerlei Handlungen involviert sein oder auftauchen.

Vor 5 Jahren hatten Kristin, ihr Vater Ralf und ihr Bruder Ben ein Schwimmbad aufgesucht, bei dem es private Areale gab. Die Besucher konnten hier ungestört baden, sich sonnen oder sonstiges tun.

Zu diesem Sonstigen war es damals zwischen den Familienmitgliedern gekommen.

Kristin wurde nicht freiwillig von ihrem Vater und ihrem Bruder zum Sex genötigt. Schnell hatte sie jedoch Gefallen daran gefunden und aus diesem vorerst einmaligen Ereignis war bald schon ein regelmäßiges Event geworden. Jedoch hatte die Familie dieses spezielle Bad lange nicht aufgesucht.

Nun – 5 Jahre später – hatte Kristin ihrem Vater und Bruder vorgeschlagen erneut dorthin zu fahren, um erneut einen Tag dort zu verbringen. Die Situation war jedoch eine etwas andere. Neben den Dreien war auch Kristins und Bens Mutter mit unterwegs – ihr Name lautet Miriam. Sie hat ihr Äußerliches an ihre Tochter Kristin vererbt.

Und noch etwas hatte sich geändert. Kristin hatte ihren 4-jährigen Jungen im Schlepptau. Offiziell behauptete Kristin, dass es “keinen Vater” gäbe. Ihre Mutter Miriam war sogar der Überzeugung, dass Kristin einfach nicht wisse, wer der Vater ihres Enkels sei. In Wirklichkeit sah die Situation nicht ganz so aus, wie sie auf Miriam wirkte.

Kristin wusste, dass entweder Ralf oder ihr Bruder Ben der Vater ihres kleinen Jungen Ruben war. Ihr war es einerlei wer es offiziell war und sie ging davon aus, dass es niemals offiziell herauskommen würde. Sie störte sich auch nicht daran.

Kristin saß am Steuer ihres Wagens. Ihren Jungen Ruben hatte sie zu ihrer Großmutter gebracht, damit dieser beaufsichtig war und sie sich einen schönen Tag machen konnte. Sie stand in der Einfahrt ihrer Eltern und stieg aus. Es versprach ein sonniger Tag zu werden und sie freute sich auf den Ausflug. Innerlich hoffte sie, dass es wieder einmal zu einer pikanten Szene kommen würde.

Die letzten Eskapaden mit ihrem Vater und ihrem Bruder war zu lange her und sie war sich recht sicher, dass weder Ralf noch Ben etwas ihrer Mutter Miriam gesagt hatten. Miriam war also nach wie vor uneingeweiht über den Inzest, den Vater, Sohn und Tochter mehr als einmal begangen hatten.

Tochter Kristin stieg aus dem Wagen und ging gut gelaunt zur Haustür. So wie an diesem verhängnisvollen Tag, trug sie eine Hotpants und ein simples schwarzes bauchfreies Top. Sie klingelte und wartete vor der Tür, sah sich die Blumen an, die ihre Mutter gewissenhaft pflegte. Nach einigen Augenblicken öffnete sich die Tür und Miriam begrüßte ihre Tochter Freude strahlend. Ihr rotes Haar flog offen umher, als sie Kristin umarmte und auf die Wange küsste.

“Schön, dass du da bist, Krissi!”

“Ja, das ist viel zu lang’ her!”, meinte Kristin und gab auch ihrer Mutter einen Kuss auf die Wange.

“Und Papa meinte, dass du heute auch mit ins Schwimmbad kommst?!” Kristins Stimme klang erwartungsvoll.

Miriam verdrehte etwas die Augen. “Ja, dein Vater ist mir so lange auf die Nerven gegangen, bis ich letztlich nachgegeben hatte. Ich bin einfach nicht gern im Bikini unterwegs …”

“Ach Mama – du hast doch ‘ne super Figur… und falls du Angst hast, dass dich jemand begafft – wir sind unter uns. Die einzigen Blicke, die du befürchten musst sind von Papa und Ben.” Kristin lachte und dachte, dass das vermutlich der Wahrheit entsprechen würde.

Ben hatte mehr als nur einmal derartige “Witze” gemacht, dass er gerne seine Mutter mal in einem heißen Bikini sehen würde. Heute war wohl der Tag.

“Ich denke mal, dass die Herren der Schöpfung noch nicht fertig sind?”

“Natürlich nicht!”, meinte ihre Mutter. Beide lachten.

“Na, dann schauen wir beide jetzt noch mal, was für Badeklamotten du eingepackt hast.”

Kristin folgte ihrer Mutter ins Haus und sie stoppten kurz im Esszimmer, wo Ralf und Ben noch saßen und frühstückten. “Ihr esst immer noch?”, lachte ihre Mutter. “Wer weiß wie viel Kraft wir heute brauchen?!”, blödelte Ben und ließ sich nicht beirren. Seine Schwester schüttelte nur schmunzelnd den Kopf und schob ihre Mutter weiter in ihr Schlafzimmer.

Die Tasche lag schon gepackt auf dem Bett. Ohne um Erlaubnis zu fragen, öffnete Kristin die Tasche und zog den Badeanzug aus der Tasche. Er war nicht hässlich. Schlicht, schwarz mit einem gelben Streifen, der von der Hüfte Taksim travesti zur Schulter fuhr. Kristin hob ihn hoch, hielt ihn ihrer Mutter vor und musterte sie. “Der ist schon nicht schlecht … aber hast du noch andere? Vielleicht doch ‘nen Bikini?” “Fang du nicht auch noch an!”, meinte ihre Mutter und verdrehte die Augen. Sie öffnete einen Kleiderschrank und zog einige Bikinis hervor.

Nacheinander sah sich Kristin die Zweiteiler an und bewertete sie. Es waren ein paar Teile dabei, die einen … vintage Look hatten. Um es vorsichtig auszudrücken. “… nächstes Mal gehen wir vorher einkaufen und ICH such dir einen Bikini aus.” “Aber nur, wenn ich dir auch einen aussuchen darf!” “Klar! Aber nix olles!” Kristin fuhr sich mit der Hand spielerisch lasziv über die Seite und Hüfte. “Ich will sexy aussehen!”

Sie beide lachten und beließen es für heute beim Badeanzug. Wer wusste schon, ob das werte Stück überhaupt großartig Gebrauch fand oder ob sie nicht alle nackt dort sein würden.

Nach einer halben Stunde saßen sie alle im Auto. Hinten saßen Ben und Ralf, vorne Kristin und Miriam. “Warum hast du eigentlich Ruben nicht mitgebracht?”, wollte ihre Mutter wissen. “Ach, der hat sich so gefreut mal bei Oma zu sein – und ich wollte mal wieder allein mit euch sein!” Ben lachte kurz ahnend auf und sah seine Schwester verschwörerisch durch den Rückspiegel an. Kristin grinste schelmisch zurück.

Im Schwimmbad angekommen, wurde der Familie eine Umkleide zugewiesen. Sie erhielten Schlüssel für die Spinte und wurden allein gelassen. Ralf und Ben ließen die Hüllen schnell fallen und Kirstin erinnerte sich an die Vorkommnisse von damals. Sie schüttelte belustigt den Kopf und ging mit ihrer Mutter in eine andere Ecke des Raums. Kristin zog sich Top und Hotpants aus. “Kannst du mir bei dem BH helfen?”, erkundigte sie sich bei ihrer Mutter. “Ja, klar!”

Miriam drehte sich zu Kristin und ihre Tochter konnte kurz einen Blick auf die Unterwäsche ihrer Mutter erhaschen. Wirklich schöne Unterwäsche. Sie trug schwarzes Blümchen Dessous, dass ihre Kurven schön betonte und ziemlich tiefe Einblicke in ihre Oberweite gewährte.

Kristin drehte sich um und ihre Mutter öffnete die Halterung des BHs. “Danke – komm, ich helf dir auch!”, meinte Kristin schnell und überraschte ihre Mutter damit. “Ach, das geht …”, begann sie, doch wurde von Kristin umgedreht. Betont langsam nestelt sie an der Öffnung des BHs und strich dabei sanft über die Haut ihrer Mutter.

Ben rief von der anderen Seite herüber. „Krissi? Kannst du mir gleich den Rücken mit der Sonnencreme eincremen?” Kristin drehte sich zu ihrem Bruder und ihre Brust streifte den Rücken ihrer Mutter. “Ja, klar! Warte nur kurz.” Sie öffnete das Kleidungsstück und wandte sich ihrer leicht erröteten Mutter ab.

Ohne Oberteil und nur im Höschen ging Kristin zu ihrem Bruder, der es aus unerfindlichen Gründen noch nicht geschafft hatte, seine Badeshorts anzulegen. Kristin – mit dem Rücken zu ihrer Mutter – sah unverhohlen auf das Gemächt ihres Bruders und leckte sich über die Lippen. Beide grinsten. Ihre eigene Oberweite wippte rhythmisch auf und ab. “Wo soll ich denn?” “Gerne am Rücken – da zwischen den Schulterblättern!”

Sie tat, wie sie geboten wurde. “Dann darfst du jetzt aber auch!”, erwiderte sie, als sie fertig war. Ihre Mutter hatte in der Zwischenzeit ihr Höschen ausgezogen und sah verstohlen über die Schulter. “Wo denn?”, erkundigte sich Ben. Kristin zuckte mit den Schultern und spreizte die Arme. “Fang mal an. Ich meld mich schon, wenn’s mich stört.”

Ben grinste – was seine Mutter sehen konnte. Ihre Tochter drehte sich etwas, damit sie ihr Profil von der Seite sehen konnte. Ihr Sohn nahm sich Sonnencreme und begann sacht die Arme seiner Schwester einzucremen. Dann das Schlüsselbein. Bevor ihrer beide Muttern sich versah, nahm Ben sanft eine Brust nach der anderen in Angriff und rieb diese sorgfältig ein. Besonders die Brustwarzen rieb er wesentlich länger als nötig. Kristin seufzte entspannt auf und schloss die Augen. Sie gab sich der aufkommenden Erregung gern hin.

“Soll ich auch?” Miriam blinzelte mit puterrotem Gesicht und wandte sich zu ihrem Mann Ralf. “Bitte?” “Soll ich dich auch eincremen?” “Ehhh …” Sie sah erneut verstohlen zu Ben und Kristin. Leise beugte sich Ralf zu ihr. “Was gibt’s denn da zu gucken?”, grinste er schelmisch. “N… nichts! Und ja, du darfst! Der Rücken …”, begann sie, doch erneut wurde begonnen, bevor sie zu Ende gesprochen hatte.

Ralf drückte reichlich Sonnencreme aus der Tube und verteilte sie auf dem Schlüsselbein und den Brüsten seiner Ehefrau. Alsbald kümmerte sich Ralf genauso fürsorglich um seine Frau, wie Ben sich um seine leibliche Schwester kümmerte. Seine Hände fuhren sanft, aber bestimmt über ihre Haut und kneteten ihre Brüste sogar leicht. Ihre Brustwarzen rieb er besonders gern und Miriam fing schon an sich zurückzuziehen, als Ben bei ihnen stand.

“Ich hab noch zu viel Sonnencreme von Krissi übrig – ich creme dir den Rücken ein, okay?” Er begann großzügig ihren Rücken Taksim travestileri zu massieren, während ihr Mann weiterhin ihre Brüste, ihr Schlüsselbein und ihre Schultern eincremte. Ralf dachte gar nicht daran ihren Bauch oder ähnliches direkt einzucremen.

Ähnliches Interesse hatte Ben erwartungsgemäß auch. Er war jedoch schnell mit ihrem Rücken fertig. Miriam war nackt – hatte ihren Badeanzug noch nicht angelegt. Das war ihr schon unangenehm genug. Doch jetzt kniete ihr Sohn Ben hinter ihr und begann ihren Po und ihre Oberschenkel einzucremen.

“Ben!”, keuchte sie überrascht auf. “Das kann ich schon allein!”, meckerte sie mit unsicherer Stimme. “Ach – quatsch. Wir sind doch unter uns!”, meinte Ben grinsend. Zwischen seinen Beinen richtete sich sein Penis langsam auf. Er schob ihre Pobacken “versehentlich” auseinander, wodurch seine Mutter nach vorne gegen Ralfs harten Penis stieß.

Bevor sie etwas sagen konnte, drückte Ralf ihr einen Kuss auf den Mund.

Tochter Kristin stand mit unter den nackten Brüsten verschränkten Armen, grinsend und kopfschüttelnd zu. Als Ben sich erhob und sein harter Penis bedrohlich nah am Hintern seiner Mutter entlang wippte, erhob Kristin das Wort. “Jetzt lasst doch mal von Mama ab … schaut doch mal, wie unangenehm ihr das ist!” Sie ging schützend zu ihrer Mutter, nahm sie in den Arm und schob sie von den Männern fort. Dabei drückte sie ihre Brüste gegen die ihrer Mutter. Erfreut stellte Kristin fest, dass die Brustwarzen ihrer Mutter hart waren. Eine gute Ausgangslage für alles, was kommen mochte.

“Danke, Krissi … was ist denn mit deinem Bruder und deinem Vater los …”, wunderte sich Miriam und griff nach ihrem Badeanzug. “Das müsstest du besser wissen als ich. Du lebst mit beiden unter einem Dach.”, witzelte Kristin und strich ihrer Mutter beruhigend über die Schultern.

Kristin nahm ihren Bikini und zog sich das recht gewöhnliche Höschen an. Schwarzer Stoff. Als sie jedoch ihr Oberteil anzog, machte ihre Mutter große Augen. “Sowas trägst du?!”, keuchte Miriam regelrecht. Das Oberteil war ein Hauch von Nichts. Der Stoff, der eigentlich den Großteil ihrer Brüste bedecken sollte, war nur ein schmaler Streifen an Stoff, der nicht einmal ihre ganzen Brustwarzen bedeckte. Ihr dunklen Brustwarzenhöfe blickten rechts und links ein kleines Stückchen heraus. “Wieso? Findest du den nicht sexy?!”, meinte Kristin und strich wieder spielerisch lasziv über ihre Seite und Hüfte. Nur war es dieses Mal EIGENTLICH ernst gemeint.

“Der ist … der ist schon etwas freizügig, oder?”, meinte ihre Mutter zögerlich. Kristin drehte sich zu Ben, der es inzwischen geschafft hatte sein hartes Gemächt in die Hose zu stopfen. “Ben? Wie findest du den?”, wollte sie wissen.

Er nickte anerkennend. “Der ist echt heiß … also, wenn du nicht meine Schwester wärst …” Seine Mutter machte große Augen und Ralf musste lachen.

Sie schafften es ohne weitere Zwischenfälle auf die Badeanlage. Kristin breitete die Handtücher nebeneinander unter einem Schattenspendenden Baum auf und sie legte sich mit ihrer Mutter darunter.

Ralf und Ben badeten erst ein wenig.

Die Minuten vergingen, der Wind strich sanft über sie hinweg und langsam wurde Miriam schläfrig, bis sie letztlich weg döste. Kristin, die ein wenig darauf gewartet hatte, spreizte die Beine und befreite ihre prallen Brüste von dem dünnen Streifen, indem sie ihn einfach zur Seite wegzog. Ihre restliche Familie bemerkte es schnell. Kristin bedeutete ihnen, dass sie herkommen sollten, aber leise sein sollten.

Vorsichtig kniete sich Kristin breitbeinig über ihre Mutter, sodass sie über ihrem Bauch war. Dann wank sie Ben zu sich und bedeutete ihm wortlos, dass er seine Shorts ausziehen sollte. Er stellte sich vor Kristin und direkt über den Kopf seiner Mutter. Kristin leckte sich freudig über die Lippen und flüsterte leise. “Gott, wie lange ich darauf gewartet hab’ deinen Schwanz wieder zu schlucken …”, raunte sie und öffnete willig den Mund. Neben sie stellte sich Ralf, der sich ebenfalls von seiner Shorts befreit hatte.

Wenn Miriam später erwachte, konnte sie nur zusehen, wie ihre Tochter den Penis ihres Bruders lutschte und den ihres Vaters rieb. Gemächlich begann sie den Penis ihres Bruders in den Mund zu nehmen und fuhr mit der Zunge über dessen Eichel. Ben hatte Mühe seine Stimme unter Kontrolle zu halten, aber er schaffte es. Sie hatte über 5 Jahre geübt ihren Vater und ihren Bruder – die sie liebevoll Spermaspender nannte – zu verwöhnen und zu nehmen.

Sie wusste, wie sie sie zappeln lassen konnte. Sie wusste, wie sie schnell zum Abschluss bringen konnte.

Jetzt gerade wollte sie langsam starten und dann schnell kommen lassen. Kristin legte eine Hand an den Riemen ihres Vaters und begann ihn zu verwöhnen, während sie sich mit der anderen am Becken von Ben abstützte. Keiner von ihnen gab einen bewussten mucks von sich. Als Ben in die Haare seiner Schwester fuhr und begann ihren Mund gröber zu nehmen, erfüllte die Luft ein sachtes Schmatzen und Saugen. Der Takt wurde Travesti taksim schneller und Kristin merkte, dass sich zu viel Speichel und Säfte ihres Bruders in ihrem Mund sammelten. Bald würde sie kleckern – und dann würden die vermischten Flüssigkeiten direkt auf die bedeckten Brüste ihrer Mutter tropfen.

Doch störte sie sich nicht daran. Sie gab sich den schnellen und ruppiger werdenden Bewegungen ihres Bruders hin, der ihren Mund gerne nutzte, um sich seines Spermas zu entledigen. Ihr Vater musste sich indes mit der abwesenden Bewegung ihrer eine Hand zufriedengeben. Er wusste, dass sein Penis auch noch auf seine Kosten kommen würde. Noch musste er sich aber etwas gedulden.

Ben gepresst zu stöhnen und sein Riemen pulsierte im Mund seiner Schwester. Wie Kristin dieses Gefühl liebte. Das Pulsieren eines Penis in ihrem Mund. Die sich stockend bewegende Hüfte ihres Liebhabers, bis der letzte Tropfen der Ladung aus dem Penis gemolken worden war.

Leise keuchend zog sich Ben zurück und sah zu Kristin und seinem Vater. Miriam schlief nach wie vor unbekümmert. Ihr Vater zeigte mit einer Hand auf Kristins Mund, dann auf den ihrer Mutter. Sie war überrascht, mochte aber den Vorschlag. Das war aggressiv – aber warum nicht.

Die Situation war mit ihr damals schnell eskaliert und sie hoffte, dass ihre Mutter genauso schnell überzeugt werden konnte. Kristin, die noch immer das Sperma ihres Bruders im Mund hatte, beugte sich vor, zog mit einer Hand den Stoff ihres Höschens bei Seite und wollte von ihrem Vater gepfählt werden. Während er ihrem stillen Wunsch nachkam, beugte sich Kristin tief über ihre Mutter und gab ihr einen Kuss. Erst nur mit gespitzten Lippen. Miriam war entspannt und reagierte nicht sofort. Nach ein paar Augenblicken, versuchte Kristin die Lippen ihrer Mutter mit dem Kuss zu öffnen.

Erfolgreich! Miriam öffnete im Schlaf die Lippen zu einem innigeren Kuss und Kristin entließ das Sperma ihres Bruders – Miriams Sohn – in den Mund ihrer Mutter.

In der Zwischenzeit hatte Ralf sich hinter seine Tochter gekniet und seinen harten gewaltigen Riemen an ihrer feuchten willigen Scheide gerieben. Immer wieder hatte er seine Eichel zwischen den gierigen Schamlippen seiner Tochter auf und ab gerieben. Als er dann endlich in die Scheide seiner Tochter eindrang, stöhnte Kristin in den Spermakuss.

Miriam öffnete die Augen. Zuerst war sie zu perplex, um den Kuss zu beenden – oder die Situation zu verstehen. Über ihr kniete ihre Tochter und gab ihr einen Kuss? Was war das für ein Geschmack? Intuitiv schluckte sie herunter und realisierte, dass es Sperma gewesen war. Ihre Hände fuhren zu ihrer Tochter und versuchten sie fortzudrücken. Dabei erwischte sie ihre Hüfte und auf andere Hände, die ihr im Weg waren. Ihr Blick fuhr umher. Aus dem Augenwinkel sah sie ihren nackten Sohn Ben, der sich seinen harten Penis hielt und zu seiner Schwester gaffte.

Sie riss den Kuss los. “Was läuft hier?!”, keuchte sie mit hoch rotem Kopf. Auf ihrer Brust lagen die prallen nackten Brüste ihrer Tochter. Jetzt erkannte sie, dass es Ralfs Hände waren, die sie gerade an der Hüfte ihrer Tochter gespürt hatte. Und sie sah nun auch, dass Ralf hinter ihrer Tochter kniete und rhythmisch die Hüfte vor und zurück bewegte. “RALF?!”, keuchte sie und versuchte sich zu befreien.

“Gott – Mama, du verpasst was …”, keuchte ihre Tochter ihr entgegen. Ihr Atem roch nach Sperma, ihre Wangen waren rot, die Augen glasig.

“Krissi?! Was tust du da?! HÖR AUF!” Ihre Stimme wurde langsam lauter.

Kristin legte ihren Oberkörper auf dem ihrer Mutter ab und vergrub ihren Kopf an ihrer Halsbeuge. Sie stöhnte, während ihr Vater die nasse Scheide seiner Tochter gierig begattete. Lange rhythmische Bewegungen schoben seine Hüfte vor und zurück. Miriam wusste, wie gewaltig das Glied ihres Gatten war und sie wusste, wie es sich anfühlte. Aber nun zwanghaft dabei zuzusehen, wie ihr Mann ihre Tochter nahm, raubte ihr jegliches Verständnis. Und warum wehrte sich ihre Tochter nicht?! Sie schien es sogar zu genießen. Das konnte doch nicht sein…

„Mama … Papas Schwanz … fühlt sich … so toll an …”, stöhnte Kristin stockend ganz nah an ihrem Ohr. Miriam war heiß. Ihr Gesicht wurde schnell puterrot. „Ralf hör auf!”, befahl Miriam. Ihr Mann — Vater ihrer Tochter schien sie gar nicht zu hören. Seine Augen waren geschlossen, der Mund vor Erregung leicht geöffnet und er stöhnte rhythmisch, während er seine eigene Tochter entweihte.

„Nein … er soll weiter … machen …”, keuchte Kristin und stützte sich wieder auf ihre Unterarme, sodass sie ihrer Mutter wieder von oben ins Gesicht schauen kann. Die Wangen ihrer Tochter waren rot, die Augen glasig. „Mama …”, stöhnte sie, „… bitte halt mich!”

Ihre Mutter war überfordert und hieß die ganze Situation nicht gut. Ben blendete sie aus — auch wenn sie im Hinterkopf wusste, dass er mit von der Partie war. Und sie ahnte, dass es sein Sperma war, dass sie gerade geschluckt hatte.

Zögerlich und mit zitternden Händen hob Miriam ihre Hände und fasste ihrer Tochter an die Taille, wie sie gebeten hatte. Worin wurde sie hier verwickelt?! Das war Inzest! Diese zögerliche Berührung von Miriam schickte ihrer Tochter sichtliche Schauer über den Rücken. Sie wollte es sich nicht eingestehen, doch auch mit ihr „machte” es etwas ihre Tochter zärtlich zu berühren.

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The Story Of Emma

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Ass

This is my first attempt at writing a story so I’m not sure how good it will be. Constructive criticism is welcome but rude comments are not.

This is a work of fiction which is not real and just my imagination. All characters are over 18 years old.

The first part of the story has very little actual sex in it so if you want a quick fuck story this won’t be for you.

This is the story of Emma’s demise.

Emma is the optimy of the Brat princess. 24 years old long blonde hair beautiful face perfectly proportioned body which she kept in good shape by working out 4 times a week. Emma is the take charge kind of woman who will happily dish out orders to anyone she sees fit.

Emma lived with her mother Ann, a 48 year old very well maintained woman. Ann was well off after she married an extremely wealthy business owner, they were married for 19 years and the marriage ended after Ann caught him in bed with his secretary. The divorce was messy however Ann had ended up comfortably off and also kept 1 of the large properties they had owned together. Ann was a good looking woman for her age hair always done manicure and pedicure every 2 weeks and also worked out.

Emma pretty much ran the household, the house was decorated exactly as she wanted it, she had the master bedroom with en suite, and she also decided what cars her and Ann had in the driveway. Emma had a top of the range Ranger Rover while Ann had a Tesla.

They had a maid who came in 3 times a week to clean the house top to bottom and it was always expected that she would do Emma’s room first and it was to be immaculate before moving onto any other rooms.

It was a Wednesday afternoon in April when Ann had a conversation with Emma and how they could save some money in places where they were spending money that didn’t need to be spent.

Ann suggested they could discontinue with the maid service and that the 2 of them could look after the household chores between them. At this point Emma simply laughed at her mother and her response was simple if the maid was fired then Ann would have to do all Konyaaltı travesti the household chores herself as she certainly wouldn’t be cleaning and risking breaking a nail or damaging her nail polish. She had never had to clean for herself at any point before and she certainly wasn’t about to start now.

After a discussion about money saving ideas Emma had what she thought was an amazing idea, they should invite Ann’s friend Susan to live with them rent free as long as she took care of all the household chores. Ann agreed that would be an ideal exchange since Susan was currently getting divorced from her husband and living back with her elderly parents this could be an ideal solution.

Ann invited Susan for coffee the following day, after some coffee and quite a few tears from Susan about how bad her life had been recently Ann brought up the subject of Susan moving in with her and Emma. Susan jumped at the idea she could live rent free in this big house as long as she did the chores, this seemed like an ideal win win situation for her so she quickly agreed. They settled on Susan moving in on Sunday that week.

Sunday came around quickly and at 2.30pm Susan knocked on the door of her new home.

Greeted by Emma she brought Susan inside and to the living room where Ann was watching TV. They quickly hugged and Ann showed Susan to what would be her room from now on. After unpacking, taking a shower and getting herself some fresh clothes Susan joined Ann and Emma in the kitchen.

After some idle chit chat between the 3 women Emma suddenly shifted the conversation and stated that maybe Susan should get on with her chores now after all that’s the reason she was here and the maid hadn’t been since Wednesday so the house needed cleaned.

Ann began to say something but Emma quickly shot her the look that Ann knew all too well, the look that meant don’t you dare question me.

Susan got up and quickly began to tidy round the kitchen when Emma stopped her, oh no Susan the kitchen can wait but my room can’t go upstairs and get my room cleaned. Konyaaltıi travestileri I expect it to be done well and to my standards I will be inspecting it once you’re finished and you wouldn’t want to see me when I’m angry so I’d make sure you do it well. Susan simply smiled and said of course Emma I’m happy to do your room first whatever you need me to do just let me know.

Emma sensed something from the way Susan responded most people don’t like being ordered around but Susan smiled and actually offered to do more this was definitely going to be a positive situation.

After Susan had cleaned Emma’s room she inspected her work and much to her surprise the room was gleaming and she had no complaints at all.

It had been 2 weeks since Susan moved in and everything was going brilliantly. Emma had constantly pushed Susan to do more and more around the house and she simply smiled and agreed and got on with it. Emma hated to admit it too much but Susan was actually doing a better job than the maid they had been paying for.

1 Saturday afternoon Susan and Ann had gone shopping for some groceries, Emma being the nosey brat that she was decided to snoop in Susan’s room just to look at her clothes and shoes and see what she had in there.

She snooped around her drawers and her shoes boxes. Emma had to admit Susan had some gorgeous heels including 2 pairs of Loboutins. She went to the wardrobe had a look through her clothes when she noticed another fancy Jimmy Choo shoes box at the bottom of the wardrobe.

Emma removed the shoe box and sat on the bed with it but when she opened it she didn’t find shoes instead she found 6 dvd discs that were blank. Emma knew these weren’t blockbuster movies or music CDs as they always had some kind of markings on them.

Her curiosity getting the better of her Emma took the discs to her room and fired up her laptop. She put 1 of the discs in her drive, fired it up pressed play and nearly got the shock of her life.

On the screen in front of her was Susan, naked apart from some tan Travesti konyaaltı hold up stockings, heels and a collar kneeling on the floor. What happened next surprised Emma even more into the picture came Michelle and Nancy. Michelle and Nancy were also friends of Ann and Susan.

Michelle was wearing a black leather corset, black stockings and thigh boots. Nancy in a silk robe, tan stockings and some gorgeous black stiletto mules.

Emma couldn’t believe her eyes, she’d known these 3 women for as long as she could remember and would never have guessed the 3 of them were so kinky.

Emma watched as Michelle and Nancy ordered Susan around. Making her clean their shoes with her mouth, foot worship before they both had a shuddering orgasm at what appeared to be the very skilled tongue of Susan. Emma heard Susan constantly refer to the other women as mistress Michelle and mistress Nancy. Every time Emma heard the word mistress she got a tingle on her own pussy and before she knew her hand was in her panties rubbing herself to a mind blowing orgasm to the thought of being the mistress herself.

It dawned on Emma that Susan had been so happy to do the chores because she was in fact a submissive who got off on doing as she was told.

She decided she had to find out if her mother knew what her friends were like so she put the other 5 dvds back in the box and hid them away where she found them and kept the 1 in her laptop.

That night after everyone had gone to their own rooms Emma text her mother and asked her to meet her in the dining room.

Ann put in a robe headed to the dining room to meet Emma.

When she arrived Emma told her to be quiet she need to ask her something did she know about Susan Michelle and Nancy.

Ann laughed thinking Emma was winding her up until Emma pressed play on her laptop and onto the screen appeared the 3 other women.

Ann was shocked she had no idea her friends were like this.

Emma had an idea, she was going to make Susan a live in slave in the household Ann would be her second in command and she would blackmail Michelle and Nancy into being her slaves as well or she would leak the dvd on the internet making their lives end as they knew it.

Ann agreed, annoyed at the fact her friends had never shared this deep dark secret with her it was time for them to pay the price of secrecy.

To be continued…….

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Shawn Ch. 01

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Anal

She became vaguely aware of lying on a bed, and movement. The movement, she began to realize, was due to her being in some sort of traveling mobile home, which was currently traveling. The vehicle hit a bump in the road, and she heard the muffled sound of a woman complaining. This was followed by some laughter, then the drone of the wheels on the road took over once again.

She glanced around the room; tiny. Almost claustrophobic in its compactness. In fact, the bed she was lying on appeared to take the bulk of the room. She could see that a blanket was thrown over her; moving her left hand carefully and lifting an edge, she saw that underneath she wore shorts and a T-shirt, socks. Nothing alarming.

And yet she was alarmed. She couldn’t remember her name, and she was certain she had never seen this – this mobile home? – before. Closing her eyes, she tried to recall her name, facts, anything to identify herself, to introduce herself to the stranger that she was now. Nothing. She began to panic and sat up, hearing a slight clinking noise as she did. Throwing back the blanket revealed that the right foot had a leather cuff that was attached to the post of the bed. She struggled to undo it. It was locked. She sat, uncertain of what was going on, swaying slightly as the mobile home traveled on, taking her she did not know where, removing her from equal uncertainty.

More observation revealed sliding doors to the right of her, in the wall; presumably a closet. A tiny cabinet shoved against the wall; space enough to edge by to the bed or open a cabinet drawer just enough to get something out. That was all the room there was.

That, and her growing fear of why she was here, and who was she? began to cause her more panic, and she struggled, until finally she lay down again, feeling drowsy for some reason, and eventually slept.

* * * * *

“Did you check on the girl?” asked Anthony. He was driving the Winnebago, hunkered in the seat, one earphone on and tuned to country music, the other cocked upwards so he could hear what his woman was saying.

His woman was Asian, beautiful and elegant, wearing a slim red silk gown with a slit up one leg. She would have frowned if she had known he was thinking of her as “his woman.” Behind her sat two blonde females, obviously twins, watching a small TV and doing their nails. Across from them sat two elderly Asian women, known as Mama San and Auntie K. No one knew what the K stood for. No one bothered to ask. They knew that Auntie K was Mama San’s sister, and that Mama San was somehow related to the beautiful Asian woman, though whether mother or aunt, no one knew on that, either. But with Mama San, nobody felt comfortable asking questions, either. She was tiny and wrinkled and old and ferocious. Even Anthony felt nervous around her. There was a cruelty to the woman that made him mind his manners around her. As for Anthony, he sometimes wondered how a black man ended up with such an odd group, but as the only male, he was content to puff out his chest at times.

He was also a massive man, well-built, dedicated to the weights which were nestled solidly in the back in the room that he shared with Anna of the red silk gown.

Anthony was their bouncer, their protector, but Anna was the mistress, the leader, with Mama San and Auntie K as her reinforcements.

It was the girl in the little room that worried Anthony. Anna had returned to their camp two days ago, grim and silent, answering no questions. All she would say was that the girl could no longer speak, had lost her memory, and that no one was to question Anna’s decision on what to do with her. It worried Anthony. He had a suspicion that Anna was anxious; he knew enough Japanese to understand that an overheard argument between Mama San and Anna meant that even Mama San was upset, and that scared Anthony. Anything that worried Mama San scared Anthony. He was basically a gentle man, adored women, and had his own fetishes and kinks that Anna satisfied. He was content to drive them about to their little private parties, a little on the outskirts of legal, but not really dangerous.

This, however, smacked of dangerous.

The girl had been asleep in the back seat of the Camry that was now being towed by the Winnebago. Anna had gotten Anthony to lift the girl and place her on the bed. Anthony thought the girl was drugged. She had slept for almost two days, only groggily moving about to go to the bathroom, and even seemed unaware of that. Mama San and Auntie K had had to help her.

The girl was pretty, Anthony thought. Young. Maybe early 20’s. Red hair to the shoulders, green eyes, pale white skin without freckles. Peaches and cream, his mama used to call it.

Still, he was worried. He glanced in the mirror at Auntie K. She was snoring. Mama San jabbed her in the side. Auntie K snorted, moved, and went back to sleep. It was peaceful.

Except for the girl in the back.

* * * * *

In two days, the Winnebago was parked at a campground pendik escort near Savannah, Georgia, close to a beach. The twins were attracting some attention with their blonde good looks and playful manner. Anthony was reading Zane Grey, sipping a beer, and sitting in the shade. Anthony fancied himself a cowboy, in his dreams. A western knight protecting the maidens of his ranch. He kept an eye on the twins, who went by the names of Bambi and Bunni. He wasn’t sure what their real names were. It didn’t matter. They were part of his family. It appeared that the girl was too, now.

The girl was being called Shawn. Whether that was her name or not, he didn’t know. He didn’t ask. This had been the first morning she had appeared to eat breakfast with them. She seemed confused and upset. He felt sorry for her. He had tried to give her another bowl of cereal, but Mama San had snapped at him not to waste food on somebody who wasn’t earning their keep. Anthony’s cowboy generosity told him to sneak the girl a little food later in the day.

Everyone had been sent outside to the beach, except for Anna, Mama San, and the girl. Auntie K had gone shopping. Anthony had just seen her drive up, bustling inside with two bags. He wondered what was going on.

* * * * *

It was just as well he wasn’t inside to watch. His chivalrous instincts would have caught him Mama San’s wrath. She was already angry with the girl, who was being stubborn.

Shawn, as she was being called, was fairly small. Petite, short, tiny waist, slender legs. Mama San was pleased. The girl was not. She made to stand nude before Anna and Mama San. Shawn did not like this. She was fairly certain this was not her habit to stand nude. She had grabbed for her clothes twice, until Mama San had gotten them and cut them up with a pair of scissors.

“You not wear clothes till I say!” snapped Mama San, shaking the scissors at Shawn. Anna watched, arms crossed. “We need to do something about the hair,” she said.

Mama San nodded.

They had begun by cutting Shawn’s hair until it was a chic bob, angling down towards her chin, with bangs. Next, they dyed her hair black. With the pale skin, she immediately took on a more Gothic look, which caused both Anna and Mama San to nod in satisfaction. Anna left the room and returned with a set of contacts, the type one could wear for days without removing. They were purple and caused no change to her vision, which was fine, but again the effects were immediate: a pale-skinned petite woman with black hair and violet eyes, bangs that now looked seductive as they swept across the tops of her eyes. They looked at the crotch, then at each other.

“Now we need to shave her,” said Anna, just as they heard the car door close. Auntie K had arrived.

Auntie K’s bags were tossed to one corner of the room. Shawn had not been pleased about having her hair dyed, but she shook her head “no” vigorously about having her crotch shaved. This almost seemed to please Mama San, who nodded at Auntie K.

Each took one of Shawn’s arms; Anna pulled a small table out, propped up the leaves, placed a blanket on it. They forced the young woman onto the table on her back, Auntie K holding the slender wrists over the girl’s head. Anna pulled out brackets, grasped one ankle, and pulled it out. She began lashing it to the bracket while Mama San tied the other leg. Shawn heaved, tugging at her wrists, lifting her hips and struggling to close her legs. She was shaking her head no from side to side. They ignored her. Mama San placed cuffs around the wrists and pulled them over the girl’s head cruelly, back and then down, tying it to a rung under the table. She smiled at the girl coldly. “You not move now,” she said, “or I cut pussy and you bleed bad.”

Shawn shivered, jerking a little when she felt Mama San’s wrinkled hand touch her clit. The old woman pinched it tightly, pulling it up. Shawn’s head went back a little, and she lifted her hips. “She gonna make a nice slut before we done,” said Mama San.

The two old women began shaving the girl’s crotch, pulling at the lips, the clit, then working a wax onto the whole area to make certain it was smooth. They powdered it. It felt cool to the girl, but she trembled. She knew she had never shaved there before. And the hands touching her, and her legs tied open – she didn’t like that she couldn’t close her legs. She felt her inner thighs growing sore as she tried to clamp them shut, and the bonds held.

Anna sat to one side, doing her nails, while the women worked. Shawn’s body was completely smooth of hair except for her brows and head before they were done. The touching had unnerved her. Mama San seemed to delight in this. At times she would pinch the girl and tell her to be still.

When they were done, Shawn thought they might let her go. But Auntie K got the bags and showed them to the other two women. Anna nodded. “You did well.”

A leg was freed, but before she could kick, Auntie K held it firmly for şişli escort one so old in appearance, while Mama San began to roll a length of hose up the girl’s smooth leg. The leg was retied and the next leg clothed in hose. Thigh-high, white, silky, lacey edges. Shawn closed her eyes when she felt the old woman’s hand smoothing up and down the length of the hose. “This nice, nice and slutty.”

They brought out a pair of boots that came above Shawn’s knees, and each in turn was placed on a leg so that the hose peeked over the top, lace above leather, innocence above sin. Now the arms were freed, yet held, and a short jacket placed on her, and then she was tied again. The jacket was leather, black, matching the boots. It smelled good yet frightened Shawn. It was left open, made to hang that way, coming just below the shoulder blades, barely covering her breasts. A collar placed around her neck with a D ring at the front; short black gloves made from black leather that was soft were placed on her hands. She clenched them into fists, trying the cuffs again.

Mama San was not pleased. She snapped her fingers at Auntie K, who scurried away and returned with a small cedar box. She opened it and held it out to Mama San.

“You try get away! You not stay still! You be punished,” snapped Mama San fiercely. She showed Shawn a clover clamp, opening it and shutting it, smiling evilly the whole time. She threaded a chain through the girl’s ring collar, hooked each end to a clamp. She pinched the girl’s nipples with her fingernails, making Shawn arch her back in pain. “Good,” said Mama San. The clamp was placed on the nipple with a snap. It was meant to hurt, and it did. The other nipple was tortured by the old fingernails, then it, too, was placed in the clover clamp’s cruel embrace. The chain was short enough that each time the girl moved her head back even a little, it tugged painfully at the clamps. She did just this without meaning to when she felt something cold between her legs. She lifted her head again, watching. Mama San had a bowl of something, and a brush. She was dabbing it on the girl’s crotch.

Mama San held up the bowl and grinned. She had few teeth. “This ginger. My own secret recipe!” she cackled. Auntie K chuckled and wheezed. She patted Shawn’s stomach lightly while Mama San pulled out one lip, then the other, daubing the spicy liquid onto the girl, rubbing it in. It burned. Shawn took a deep breath and her head went back again when she felt the brush go just inside her, felt the juice trickle in, felt the burning.

“We train you,” said Mama San. “We train you to be good slut.”

“Nobody know her now,” said Auntie K. She rarely spoke. Mama San hissed angrily at her, nodding at the girl, but Shawn did not seem aware of what had been said. She was pulling at the wrist cuffs. Her arms overhead and bent backwards made it hard to breathe. Her stomach was sucked in. She felt so open and vulnerable.

After a few more minutes, Mama San seemed satisfied.

“How long will it take?” asked Anna. Anna had a very cultured, rich voice. It was soothing and chilling at the same time. It lacked emotion.

Mama San shrugged. “Maybe day, maybe two. We wait, do it again, hmm, few hour.” Anna nodded.

The burning continued, with a warmth spreading. Mama San leaned over Shawn’s face. “You feel that girl? You feel?” Shawn stared at her with her purple eyes. “Soon you pussy burn, soon you be a good slut.”

Mama San stood up. She nodded at Auntie K, who produced the cedar box again.

Anna stood and came to the table. “Try this one,” she said, pointing with a polished nail in the box.

Mama San cackled. She held up a small silver thing and showed it to Shawn, who didn’t understand what it meant.

The old woman reached down, grasped Shawn’s clit, pinched it and pulled it up. Then she clasped the silver ring on it. It clamped into placed snugly, not budging, keeping the clit tight and pinched and pounding with the blood in it. It throbbed, matching the other throbbing that had started with the ginger liquid. Shawn squirmed.

Mama San wasn’t finished. She took two silver chains, fine in their workmanship, and looped them around the outer sides of Shawn’s thighs. Auntie K helped her. They took clamps, placed them on the lips of the pussy, pulled them open wide, hurting her a little. The chains were attached to the clamps, and she was held open, wide, with the burning and throbbing from the ginger increasing.

“We leave her here now,” said Mama San. Anna nodded. She seemed bored. They left the room, and Shawn lay bound to the table, stretched with her legs wide open, with her stomach flattened inwards by the tightness of her bonds, with her pussy spread wide. She felt cool air blowing across her crotch lightly, and shivered.

After a time that seemed like hours, she found that she was growing wet, that she could feel the clamp on her clit jerking in time with her hips which had begun to lift up and down. That she was wanting kartal escort something to touch her there, something – something in her. She began to yearn for it, want it, to the point of feeling miserable. She began to be aware of voices, a man’s voice she didn’t recognize, outside the window of the mobile’s bedroom. She tried to listen but failed to hear. She was thrusting up with her hips now, wanting. Needing.

She was sure she had never done this type of thing before, either.

The man’s voice was inside now. Shawn was still trying to concentrate on his voice, yet still miserable with lust and some uncontrollable urge. The door opened. Mama San entered first, subservient outwardly, bowing respectfully to Anna. Shawn barely noticed. The man came closer, whistling as he saw Shawn.

“She’s a beauty!” he said. His voice sounded southern, mellow. A little uneducated. Shawn glanced at him. He wore a sheriff’s uniform. Anna smiled at him. “Undress for me,” she said. The man swallowed, looked at Shawn again, then obeyed quickly.

Shawn found herself torn between listening and watching the man, and trying to press her legs together. At one point Mama San leaned over and whispered in her ear “feel more like slut now, yes missy?” and then tugged at the clamps on the nipples. It hurt. Shawn found that the pain seemed to make the throbbing in her pussy grow stronger.

Anna put the man throw some mild flogging, some spanking. He groveled at her feet; she spanked him in turn. He kissed her foot; she bound his balls, smacking them with her open hand. He groaned, she smiled. And Shawn continued to grow more wet between her legs.

At last Anna seemed pleased with the man. He was panting, on the floor, bright red marks on his bottom. She told him to stand. He was erect, almost trembling.

“You have done well,” she told him.

“Mistress, thank you,” he said, his head lowered. His chest was heaving from excitement. His cock jerked.

She nodded at Shawn. “Would you like to put a finger in her?” she said.

Shawn tightened, trying to twist to one side. No!

The man beamed, excited. “Can I put my cock in her?” he asked.

“No!” snapped Anna. He quickly groveled on the ground, licking her shoe, until she was pleased once more. She nodded at Mama San.

“Always use glove,” said Mama San. She took the man’s hand and began pulling a glove over it, latex, snapping the cuff around his wrist when she was done. She stepped back.

Anna came over to the man, nudging him around to face Shawn. She leaned over, her mouth at his ear.

“Do you like what you see?” she asked. He nodded mutely, mesmerized. Shawn twisted, trying to free herself, tugging at her own clamps. Anna shoved him forward a little.

“Please me now, and some day I may let you put your cock in her,” she said. She picked up the man’s gloved hand, took his index finger, put it to her mouth, sucked it a little.

He breathed deeply. “Oh Mistress,” he said. She smiled.

“You have earned my pleasure in this,” she said.

He nodded, eager.

Shawn shook her head no, no! and the man did not watch her. The story had been right about Shawn; she could not speak. Whatever had happened to her, she could not speak. She could not say no, beg him to stop, beg to be let go.

She could only lie there, bound tightly, spread wide open, the room quiet, only the sound of the man breathing heavily with excitement, grunting a little as he tried to keep from cumming.

He took his gloved finger, long and fat, and shoved it into Shawn. She gritted her teeth, closed her eyes, and began frantically tugging at her cuffs. She bucked, and this excited him, and he shoved again with his finger. She had tightened around his finger to try to keep him out, but this caused him to moan. “Please Mistress,” he whispered huskily, not even realizing he had said anything. The girl bucked and flung her hips about, trying to get away. He thrust his finger in and out of her, excited. After a moment, Anna told him to stop, that he had pleased her. The girl was panting, tears in her eyes, shaking violently.

Anna took the man to the bathroom, allowing him to cum for her while she watched. He thanked her, paid her, and asked if he could come again.

“It’s been a while since you been in these parts,” he said, buttoning up his shirt. Anna nodded, already showing signs of boredom. He bowed slightly, smiling, and left to get into his squad car, whistling happily.

Inside, Mama San and Auntie K were already untying the girl.

“You little bitch,” Mama San was saying. “You almost ruin good paying customer! Make him go away, how we get money, huh?” She dug in her nails on the tender flesh of the girl’s pussy. The clamps were left in place as they helped her off the table. Shawn sank to the floor on her knees and hands, trembling.

Anna entered the room, closed the door firmly, and locked it. She was angry. Shawn looked up, still shaking.

“You are about to learn, girl, not to cause one of my customers any problems,” said Anna.

“We going to punish?” asked Mama San.

“We are going to teach, first,” said Anna. She sat in a plush chair. Auntie K pulled out a padded stool and placed it before her.

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Blowjob

Phoebe Burnett was the Press Relations Officer of the local MP’s party. She called me, one of the political team at the Western Clarion, on a Saturday afternoon. We didn’t publish a Sunday paper so I guessed she wanted something in the Monday edition.

“Hi, Wanda, I wondered if you’d like to come over, I think I may have something to interest you. There’s an open bottle of wine calling you too.”

I called an Uber and grabbed my bag with the tools of my trade. In 10 minutes she was opening the door to her large, Georgian terraced house to let me in. She kissed my cheek. A good relationship with the press is essential for a PRO, naturally, and we had a very good relationship. That is to say we fucked now and then without any desire to turn it into a deeper relationship and when she wanted me to, I’d get a story in print for her, if I could. She never took liberties and didn’t feed me crap. If Phoebe said something, it was always accurate, if not always the whole story.

Good to her word, a very acceptable bottle of Malbec was open and breathing in her sitting room.

“Business first?” That meant she was horny, so I nodded, yes. “Right, well, it’s about Sir Robert Mulhall.”


Sir Robert Mulhall (Captain, Royal Navy retired) was the sitting MP. He was fiery in his defence of the military, hot on law and order, family values and immigration. He was a pugnacious man and popular with a lot of the right-leaning electorate, passionately loathed by most of those from the centre to the left.

“What about him?”

“A little local trouble. I got a call from the Chief Whip. The good, upright Captain has been caught with his flies wide open. A video has been ‘found’ of him being buggered by a rent boy.”

I interrupted. “Underage?”

“No. It’s bad enough without that. The film shows the two of them snorting coke and buggering each other. He pays the boy with coke, for God’s sake.”

“Is he going to be prosecuted?”

“No idea. I don’t know if the police even know about it yet.”

“So why are you telling me?”

“Because the shit is going to hit the fan pretty soon and I want you to know the whole story. The Whip has said Mulhall is set to resign so there will be a bye-election.

“Do you want me to break the story?”

“Can you do it without dropping me in it?” I gave her the ‘what do you think?’ look. “Yes, ok, sorry, of course you can.”

“Who made the tape?”


“The rent boy. He was going to blackmail him. The only thing to his credit is that Mulhall went straight to the Chief Whip, confessed and begged on his knees to be protected. The Whip told him to fuck off and that he’d made his bed so he could bloody well lie in it. But to keep his trap shut.”

“So, who ‘found’ the film?”

“It was sent to the Whip’s office. That’s what kicked it all off. He’d sent it to Mulhall, who tried to ignore it.”

“Wow. Who else knows?”

“The PM, all the Whips and the Speaker.”

“Excellent so it could leak from anywhere?”

“You know something, Wanda?” I asked, what? “Politics would be so fucking dull but for moments like this, don’t you think?”

Laughing, we went upstairs. This was a familiar pattern. Business over, she’d take me up to her bedroom and without bothering to undress, we’d fuck. She had narrow tastes. She liked to watch me masturbate as she strapped on and continue while she stroked her ‘cock’ and her clit, usually giving me a verbal account of what she was going to do. This particular afternoon I’d had the foresight not to bother wearing knickers which seemed to please her. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I raised the hem of my dress and spread my legs before beginning a gentle stroking and fingering which, with the added arousal of watching her unbutton her own dress from waist to ankle and tighten the expensive looking harness so the dick poked through the red fabric, quickly got me lubricious enough to accommodate her when the time came. She stood close to me, lifting one foot onto the bed so I could see her cunt in the cleft of the leather between her legs.

“Get yourself good and wet, Wanda. Show me your finger. Oh, excellent. Do you want this?” She stroked the pretty, pale blue dildo. “Of course you do. Kneel on the bed, let me see you properly. I’m going to fuck you hard today, that’s what you want, sin’t it?”

It wouldn’t, quite frankly, have mattered if I’d said I’d rather have had a bacon sandwich; we both knew where this was heading and I for one was not going to complain.

With my arse high on the bed, Phoebe stood behind me and slowly entered me. She always savoured every moment and her commentary started again. “Oh God, I love how you open for me. Are your nipples hard, like mine are?”

It’s not easy to speak with your face pressed down onto the bed so she just assumed I was having as much fun as she was and ploughed on. Happily, she was right, they were as hard as hers.

“Fuck, that’s good. You’re so tight. Like a virgin.”

In different circumstances I’d have laughed, there wasn’t too much virginal about me, not least my cunt which, whilst not over-exercised, had had her Ataköy travesti fair share of experience.

Then she got into her stride, found her rhythm and, good to her word, gave me a good, hard seeing to. As always, my orgasm seemed to trigger hers and whilst we seldom coincided, she was never long after so I had to take the pounding after my climax until she reached hers. Tough job, but someone has to do it.

We lay, side by side on the bed and, having recovered, she said, “Will you publish the story?”

“I haven’t worked out how to keep you out of it yet. Your MP, your constituency, and the Clarion is your regional paper. People would have to be fucking thick not to make the connection.”

“Well, as it happens, I have a plan to cover that. It so happens that in recent months I have developed a certain intimacy with Nadine Sheraton.” She was one of the junior whips and a vocal lesbian. “She is going to ‘leak’ the story to two nationals. They will cover it for certain, but they wont have as much as you have got. Your edge will be the knowledge of the film and the payments in coke.”

So, I thought, not a scoop but it’ll make it look like I’ve done better than the nationals which will please my editor.

“But the real scoop, which will be all yours, will be the selection of Mulhall’s replacement. I have a plan and you are at the heart of that plan if you want to be?”

“Do you ever doubt that?”

‘On your knees, Wanda. Phoebe wants a bit more.”

Soundly fucked, I got an Uber back home and wrote up the story so far, and filed it for the editor’s attention on the Sunday, in time for the Monday edition.

“Is this true?” Margaret Connell was an old-style editor. She sat at her desk that Sunday morning with a large cup of hot, black coffee and looked every minute of her 58 years of hard working and living. She’d covered wars in most of the shitty countries of the world, drunk with the hardest reporters and climbed the greasy pole of journalism not, perhaps, to its zenith but certainly as far up it as she had decided she wanted to go. Her sole concession to what she called ‘the modern environment,’ was that she only smoked in the office when nobody could see.

“I spoke to the whip’s office and was told, basically, to fuck off.”

“But they didn’t deny it?”

I shook my head. “I tried to get hold of Mulhall’s private office but all I got was, ‘there’s nobody here,’ so I guess they’re forming the circle of covered wagons. I called a mate on the Times and she asked, ‘where did you get that?'”

“What did you tell her?”

“Another national had dropped me a hint while looking for local background on Mulhall.”

“You’re learning. ‘Bout fucking time. Have you got Mulhall’s private number?” I had. “Have you called it?”

“The saintly Lady M told me, before I asked her anything, that it was all bullshit and I could go and fuck myself.”

“Okay, re-write it. Make it more rumour than allegation, don’t name him – a local MP, denials by family and no comment from Downing Street. Make it sound like we’re doubtful about the existence of the film but that if it exists, it’s a game changer.” That was not far from what I had written but Editor’s like to leave their mark.

“Are you sure you’ll get the stuff on the selection process?”

“Yep.”

“Phoebe hasn’t changed.” I must have failed to hide my shock. She laughed. “Thought so. Well done you.”

Mulhall’s political career bled out slowly and painfully over the next few days, as it he had slipped into a warm bath and slit his wrists. Outraged denial turned to claims of having made a mistake or two and then to a sudden resignation accompanied by vows to fight for his reputation. Good luck with that.

It didn’t take long for the selection process to become the story. Phoebe briefed all the press that showed any interest that there were three candidates under consideration. She only named them, as promised, to me. They were all local, all worthy in their own way and all amenable to my doing a feature about them in the Clarion, which had some significant influence among the local electorate.

Edward Dando was a local farmer and producer of cider and cider brandy, proud member of the local hunt, a district councillor, and outspoken against the evil empire that was the EU. He’d been a mate of Mulhall’s and was desperate to dissociate himself from him.

Charlotte Simpkins ran a huge firm of economic analysts in the City of London. She was beautiful, always dressed to kill and married to a banker. She was superficially charming but with the cold eye of a crocodile and a ruthless streak a mile wide.

Amrita Sangritlal worked as an orthopaedic surgeon at the local hospital, and was big in local politics.

Phoebe had briefed me privately and in her usual and unique manner which of course, involved me spending a lot of time bent over for her. The price a newshound pays for her calling!

“The good doctor’s going to be chosen.”


“How can you be so sure?”


“Because we, that is to say you and I are going to make sure of it. Dando is Ataköy travestiileri a nice bloke but oh, so yesterday. Simpkins will try to seduce her way into the job but the matrons of the local party will find her intimidating in terms of intellect, looks and sheer hunger for the job. Also, she wants high office and our lot here like a constituency MP who works for them, not for their own ambition.

“Sangritlal ticks so many boxes. She’s gay, Asian, hugely knowledgeable about the health service and looks pretty bloody good.”


“Have you?”

“No. Behave yourself. She’s intently interested in local community, a staunch supporter of local education and, and here’s her ace, she doesn’t play the race or gay cards.”

Edward Dando was lovely We started off taking a walk around his land, and my photographer got some great shots of him, his flat cap, tweed jacket and tie, and green wellies a testament to his rural credentials. An old-school farmer and charmer, unashamedly pro-hunting, rural values and eager to call out the government over abandoning the countryside in favour of what he called ‘greedy city fat cats.’ When I asked him if that included Charlotte Simpkins, he’d smiled and said he was sure she was a very fine candidate. So, obviously it did then.

Simpkins was a lot as I had expected. I was invited up to her penthouse flat in London but, trying to keep the initiative, I said I’d prefer to see her in her home in the constituency. This I managed to do, but it had to be at a weekend because she was so, so busy at the moment. Right.

It was 11am on a Saturday. When I arrived her husband, Ronald Ramsden, let me in. “Charlotte believes that a woman who takes her husband’s surname is perpetuating an outdated view of marriage.” Try that, I thought, on the local matrons. He explained that Charlotte was on the phone but wouldn’t be long. He led me through to a large, farmhouse kitchen that had, once upon a time, actually been a farmhouse kitchen. Now it was a city-dwellers Disney representation of one. A huge range, ivory coloured and without a stain on it, dominated the old fireplace. A scrubbed pine table to seat about ten people stretched across the room and had clearly never seen the bottom of a hot pan, or a spilt glass of red. Nothing in the room looked as if it had ever been used. Copper pans hung from steel hooks, pristine and gleaming warmly. Fresh flowers, not from their extensive garden but from the local florist, adorned dresser and table alike.

She arrived, eventually, and studiedly casually dressed and offered me coffee which she made from a huge Gaggia machine that would have looked big in a busy coffee shop. It was probably the only machine in that kitchen that was ever used.

We sat at that huge table and she made sure I could see her long legs, clad in the beautiful black trousers, her feet in tasseled loafers. Her magnificent chest was contained within a black cashmere sweater with a V neck that revealed just enough cleavage.

She felt, she told me, passionate about the constituency and she was clever enough to have memorised some important local statistics. But for me, however, her achilles heel was her total opposition to blood sports that were incredibly popular among the rural community, her insistence that small, local schools were inefficient and wasteful of resources and that second-home owners were a major contributor to the local economy.

I asked if she’d read any of the letters in the Clarion from local people on the subject of second homes and she told me that people misunderstood economics. That’ll go down well!

Of all of them, Sangritlal was the hardest to get to meet. She wasn’t avoiding me, she was just very busy because, in addition to her surgical work, she was in the process of setting up a charity to provide what in England are regarded as routine operations such as hip replacements, to people in poorer parts of her parents’ home country, India.

I finally got to meet her in her consulting room at the local hospital. ‘Consulting room’ was a grand term for a windowless box with a desk, inevitable computer, an examination couch, books on a book case side by side with models of various joints of the body. She sat, wearing scrubs, at her desk. “I’ve just spent three hours in theatre, so apologies for the scrubs.”

I occupied the patient’s chair. I almost gasped when she removed her mask, she was unutterably beautiful. My second almost-gasp moment was when she took of her surgical cap and her hair, black, thick and glossy cascaded down past her shoulders, contrasting so powerfully with the pale blue of her scrubs.

“How will you find time for the job of an MP with everything else that you do?”

“I’ve agreed with the hospital that I can go part time if I get elected. I have to keep my licence so I have to do a fair bit, but no more than, say, a lawyer or accountant or general practitioner. I love hard work, it’s bred into me, and I hope I can bring insight to the job that others just don’t have.”

She was humble, self-effacing, funny, and very, very convincing. She had, travesti Ataköy she said, one test of almost anything in terms of policy or law. “Is it fair? That is the simplest and best question to ask about almost anything. Is racism fair? Of course it isn’t, any more than discrimination is or unequal pay. Is it fair to tax rich people less than the poor?”


As I left she shook my hand. “You’re gay too, I’ve been told.” I said that was true. “Please, don’t make it an issue in your piece.”

“You want it kept quiet?”

“No, absolutely not. I’m not remotely concerned about it being public knowledge. I just don’t want sexuality to be a matter of discussion. Nobody ever says, ‘well, of course, she’s straight, you know,’ do they? So why should they remark on me, or you, being gay? Mention it by all means, but don’t make it something that defines me.”

Phoebe was right. Not only did Sangritlal get selected, she got elected. I got a pay rise and was made political editor. Well done me.

A rather surprising event soon followed her election. There was a huge controversy at the local hospital around bullying among surgical staff. It seemed like a great opportunity to test the mettle of our new MP so I called her office for a quote. Later that evening, she called me herself and invited me to her home the next day for supper.

She had a large modern flat with a balcony overlooking the canal. It was a warm summer evening and we ate there in the waning sun. She’d cooked a mild chicken dish.

“My mother taught me to make this when I was 8. It’s still a favourite.” It was delicious and I said so.

“There has always been misogyny and bullying in medicine and particularly in surgery and even moreso in orthopaedics. Most of my colleagues are male, soccer or rugby fanatics and choose the discipline because it gets a lot of work with sports enthusiasts. Most of them hate treating geriatrics because there’s no glamour in it. Mend a rugby football star’s knee and you get the work privately, lucratively and with a virtual guarantee of more.

“But, the bullying is something else. Being Asian, female and gay, I got it all. Nobody protected us from it. Not just here in this city’s hospitals, but everywhere. Once I was elected, I wrote to the trustees of the hospitals in my constituency, highlighted personal experience and reports I’ve received from others; some anonymous but some with the courage to be open about it. I didn’t make that public because I love the service and wanted them to resolve matters quietly and effectively. Now it’s in the public arena there will be a lot of noise and lip service but will there be progress? Only time will tell.

“Your piece helped me to get elected and I’m grateful. I know Phoebe had a hand in it too but she wont admit it and, I suspect, nor will you. Just know that I know and I’m very appreciative.”

There is a pub just outside the larger of the two hospitals in the city, called the Tender Trap, ‘tender,’ being a none too subtle pun on nurse, and nurses and other medics made up a huge proportion of the pub’s clientele. It was run by Jack Roberts, a former fairground prize fighter, although, aside from his frame, you’d never know. His face bore none of the usual signs of the pugilist. The back bar was, essentially, a gay bar and, since Jack was himself as queer as a flying goat, he spent most of his time in that part of the pub. I’ll explain the significance of the Tender Trap a bit later.

The evening before, I’d been to see Amrita again. I’d barely arrived when she showed me a sheaf of copies of old fashioned poisoned pen letters, letters or words cut from magazines or newspapers and stuck onto paper. They were vile threats, utterly horrible; too horrible to repeat here.

“Have you been to the police?”

“Yes,” she smiled, “of course I have but we both know they wont solve it.”

“Have they got the letters?”

“Yes and they asked for the envelopes but I’d thrown them away, then this morning, I realised I hadn’t put the rubbish out so I still have them.”

“Who did you see?” She named a DI called Martin Levin. I knew him from when I was on the crime desk. He was a subtle as a bulldozer and loathed foreigners, gays and the press with equal vehemence. He was also incompetent. I picked up my phone.

Christina Wellow was a Detective Chief Inspector, but not Levin’s DCI. She was brilliant and we’d seen a few cases through together and she trusted me. I told her about the letters and that Levin was dealing. She laughed. “Fancy giving a poisoned pen case to a man who can barely read!”

“The doctor has found the envelopes, well, some of them.”

“Bring them round and don’t touch them.”

“How long have we known each other?”

I said goodbye to Amrita, dropped the envelopes off at the police station and made my way to the Tender Trap. I was still wearing my work clothes which, that day, were a pair of black, leather trousers which were as old as the hills but still fitted me and looked okay. They were pretty tight and I wasn’t wearing anything under them. My top was a grey silk blouse which, if I got excited, revealed my braless nipples. It sometimes pays to advertise. The blouse wasn’t tucked into my trousers. Jack was behind the bar and gave me a warm welcome. We chatted for a while and I saw Jack’s eyes move to look at someone on my left. “Hi, Benny, what can I get you?”

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
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Oz Beach Boy Bossed By Indian Lady

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

Brunette

NOTES: This is a direct follow-up to my previous story “Oz Beach Boy Shows Abbie Chatfield.” It can, however, still be read as a stand-alone story. This is an interracial CFNM sex story featuring a dominant, dark skinned, 32-year-old Indian-Australian woman and a more submissive 25-year-old Anglo-Australian man. It features female-of-male body worship, humiliation and ridicule, as well as various male-female sex acts. All characters featured and mentioned are over eighteen. This is a work of complete fiction. This story takes place after my recent holiday-themed entries.

—————————————–

It was a mild summer’s evening in Sydney, Australia. 32-year-old Indian-Australian radio producer Sharna Khatri was more aroused than she’d ever been in her entire life.

Underneath her tight-fitting, figure-hugging Levis, her silky underpants were alarmingly wet with sexual excitement.

The beautiful Sharna had watched with utter delight as a gorgeous 25-year-old man named Matt had stripped completely naked in The Hit Network’s main studio and dutifully had his enormous penis measured by bubbly and beautiful radio host Abbie Chatfield.

The in-studio penis measurement was the capper to a very enlightening and entertaining interview that Abbie had conducted with Matt about what life was like for a man with a very, very large appendage.

The muscular and supremely well hung Matt’s answers were funny, honest, candid and informative. It had been a great interview.

As the highly aroused Sharna sneakily groped and caressed muscly Matt’s rock-hard butt from behind while Abbie did her job with the tape measure, the nude man got a near instantaneous and very embarrassing erection.

Mere seconds later, Matt then ejaculated, obviously prompted by a few accidental touches from Abbie combined with Sharna’s illicit molestation of him.

Clearly humiliated, the red-faced Matt had quietly gotten dressed as Abbie warmly said her goodbyes.

The popular 26-year-old radio host left the studio and headed home in a fit of riotous, uncontrollable giggles.

Far from offended, the gregarious Abbie had found Matt’s impromptu erection and ejaculation utterly hilarious, even though he’d accidentally splattered semen in her hair and across her cheek. [See Story: “Oz Beach Boy Shows Abbie Chatfield”]

“Oh my god,” Matt said as he quickly buttoned up his shirt. “I still can’t believe that happened. For god’s sake, I shot a load in Abbie’s hair…”

“It’s okay,” Sharna smiled. “Abbie thought it was hilarious. Don’t worry, Matt. She’s not angry or offended.”

The cheeky Sharna paused and looked Matt directly in the eye, teasing out the younger man’s amusing humiliation.

“Still, it must be horribly embarrassing for you though,” Sharna smirked, “getting an erection in front of two female strangers and then ejaculating so quickly in public.”

“I know, I know,” Matt muttered as he brushed his longish brown hair off his handsome face with his hands. “It’s a bit of a problem for me…”

“Well, obviously…premature ejaculation must be really humiliating for a man,” Sharna said naughtily, “and you’ve just done it on live radio!”

Sharna looked at Matt with barely concealed lust. She had to do everything within her power not to instantly drop to her knees and suck Matt’s enormous cock right there and then when he was standing in the studio completely naked.

When Abbie asked to measure his penis, the cocky Matt unnecessarily stripped naked instead of just hanging his phallus modestly out of his pants.

Matt was tall, tanned and wonderfully muscular, and was obviously very keen to show off his close-to-perfect body to two women.

It was wild behaviour, and Sharna was convinced that Matt was some kind of exhibitionist pervert.

Matt’s cocksure bravado, however, had backfired, and the supremely jacked stud now looked more like a cowed, beaten dog than a strutting peacock displaying his impressive feathers to get the attention of two females.

Sharna Khatri was ecstatic. She absolutely loved muscular men with big cocks, and truly thrived while being in charge during sex.

Sharna loved nothing more than taking the lead while fucking a guy, which had frequently inspired her to pursue considerably younger and less experienced men in order to get what she wanted.

With the beautiful and clearly embarrassed Matt standing in front of her with his head bowed and that enormous appendage tucked away inside his pants, Sharna knew she couldn’t let this opportunity slide.

The muscly stud’s compliance while she sneakily groped him turned Sharna on in a massive way.

She was horny as hell and desperately wanted to fuck Matt’s sexy brains out. Sharna was going to take him…whether he liked it or not.

That said, the beautiful and feisty radio producer had very clearly seen Matt checking her out several times, and knew that it would take very little effort to get this hotter-than-hot Anglo-Aussie back into her office and then back out of his Fındıkzade travesti clothes.

Like all her men, Sharna wanted this 25-year-old hunk completely naked and under her thumb.

“Hey, Matt, can you come back to my office to sort out some paperwork?” Sharna asked with a smile. “It shouldn’t take too long.”

“Yeah, sure,” Matt replied quietly while picking up his shoes, obviously still embarrassed. “Will I have to pay for Abbie’s hairdressing bill?”

“Mmmm, I might take it out in trade instead,” Sharna said with a lascivious smile, and then gave Matt a naughty wink. “Is there anything you can do for me?”

“Sure, I could do some typing or office work for you,” Matt replied and winked back at Sharna. “Whatever you need…”

“Okay, let’s go,” Sharna smiled. “I’ll hold you to that, Matt!”

As an ad blared over the studio speakers for the upcoming promo tour from Australian-born WWE star Rhea Ripley, Sharna quickly led the way toward her office.

The feisty radio producer was nearly jogging, with Matt happily following behind…and hopefully checking out her curvy butt along the way.

Sharna Khatri loved sex, and she particularly loved having sex with hot Anglo-Aussie guys like Matt.

For her whole life, Sharna had rebelled against her strict, stifling, conservative Indian parents, and the best way to upset these traditionalist prudes had always been by dating non-Indian guys.

Like nearly all Indian parents of Indian girls, Sharna’s mother, Jesminder, and father, Virat, wanted their daughters to either marry a successful man and become a home-maker, or to study hard and become a medical practitioner of some kind.

The gutsy Sharna, however, wasn’t interested in either option. She wanted to get into the media industry, and her parents hated the idea.

In response, the irrepressible Sharna baited her disapproving mother and father at every turn.

With a wilful, expectant smile, Sharna took great delight in the disappointed looks on her parent’s faces whenever she brought an Aussie boy home for dinner.

Her parents’ over-wrought efforts to maintain their very Indian sense of decency and hospitality in the face of their own obvious disapproval was particularly amusing for Sharna.

The blatant dissatisfaction of her parents hedged way too close to outright racism for the far more liberal and open-minded Sharna.

She found her parents’ superior, disapproving attitude toward Anglo-Australians offensive and troubling.

Sharna didn’t prescribe to the same tedious, antiquated set of values that Jesminder and Virat clung to with an almost desperate need to preserve the past.

Self-possessed and extremely intelligent, Sharna was all about the here and now, and having a good fucking time.

Sharna’s parents came to Australia from Mumbai when she was just four-years-old, and her two older sisters were six and seven.

Virat and Jesminder had now been in Australia for 28 years, but they had only partially embraced and accepted the ways of their adopted homeland.

Sharna rightly saw herself as more Australian than Indian, and kicked against her parents’ traditionalist Indian values in any way she could.

She wore revealing clothes, drank and smoked, did drugs, took on a wide variety of casual, interracial sexual partners, and chose a career path that ran in direct opposition to every ambition her parents had for her.

When the twenty-year-old Sharna was accepted into a prestigious, incredibly competitive radio and media production course at a highly regarded university, an enraged Virat put a hole in the wall with his fist, while Jesminder openly wept with disappointment.

The justifiably proud and happy Sharna was furious at her parents, so she hit back at them in the best way she knew how.

That night, she chatted up a tattooed, long-haired, bearded bad boy in a seedy city bar, and naughtily took him home.

To her parents’ horror, Sharna and her well hung pick-up fucked loudly and aggressively in her bedroom for over an hour.

When Sharna unmistakably heard Jesminder hovering around in the hallway near her bedroom, she mischievously asked her half-drunk pick-up to walk out in his underwear to shock the much older woman…but then had an even better idea.

“If you actually walk out there completely naked instead,” Sharna smiled at her one-night-stand, “I’ll let you stick it in my butt.”

With a big, malicious smile, the guy gleefully peeled off his tattered briefs and then swaggered into the hallway with his big dick and low-swinging balls proudly hanging.

When Sharna heard Jesminder squeal in shock and disgust a few moments later, the half-drunk twenty-year-old doubled over with laughter and a cruel sense of destructive satisfaction.

Despite the fact that she’d subsequently achieved great success as a highly valued radio producer across an impressive array of major Australian media networks, 32-year-old Sharna’s parents still viewed her as a galling disappointment.

Her Fındıkzade travestileri older sisters were both doctors, and Sharna was indeed the shameful, embarrassing black sheep of the family, despite her impressive career achievements and substantial bank balance.

Sharna and her family had always lived in Sydney’s Indian suburban enclave of Harris Park, but Sharna left when she got her first radio job.

Against her parents’ wishes, Sharna moved to the far more cosmopolitan and bohemian area of Potts Point, which was much closer to the city centre.

Once she was living on her own, Sharna really cut loose. She gleefully did more booze and blow, and more men, than she ever had before.

And even though her increasingly distant parents didn’t even know about it, every time Sharna sucked a non-Indian cock or let an Anglo-Aussie guy fuck the shit out of her, it felt like a bold middle finger salute directed right at the sneering Virat and Jesminder.

The handsome, muscular, beautifully waxed, wonderfully big dicked Anglo-Aussie Matt was about to be Sharna’s latest fuck-me-and-then-fuck-them sexual conquest, and she couldn’t wait to get his pants off and his cock out.

Sharna wanted Matt to come all over her, just like he had done to Abbie. She wanted to see his thick, pearl-coloured semen smeared and dripping across her deep brown skin.

“Okay, Matt, here we are,” Sharna said with a smile, and pushed the door of her office open for him. “Come on in.”

As Matt walked past her through the door carrying his shoes and socks in his hands, Sharna reached out and boldly pinched him on the butt.

With a look of mock indignation on his face, Matt hilariously spun around and looked Sharna right in the eye.

“You can’t do that,” the muscular hunk said theatrically. “Sharna, please!”

“Oh, I’m going to do a lot more than just grab your bum, Matt,” Sharna smiled. “That’s just the tip of the iceberg, you sexy stud.”

Beautiful and intelligent, Sharna had always been confident around men, and had no trouble getting them into bed.

She had straight, silky, shoulder length, black hair; smooth, deep brown skin; near-black but incredibly lively eyes; and a huge, engaging smile thanks to her full lips and big, white, perfectly straight teeth.

Sharna’s body was sensational too. She had big, firm breasts, curvy hips and a wonderfully round and pneumatic butt.

The radio producer wasn’t tall but she carried her voluptuous figure beautifully, and she constantly noticed guys checking her out.

As Sharna watched Matt stroll into her office, she was reminded again of how much she truly loved fucking Anglo men.

It wasn’t solely about striking back at her parents. She loved the rich contrast of her deep, dark skin against their much, much paler flesh.

Sharna felt at times as if she was enveloping them like a shadow, overtaking them, and then consuming them whole.

“I shouldn’t have let you get dressed,” Sharna said, and looked Matt up and down like he was a meal about to be devoured, “but I do like stripping a man naked. I fucking love ripping off a guy’s gear!”

With that, Sharna shut and locked the door behind her and then bounded toward Matt, who stood shocked in front of the radio producer’s desk.

He dropped his shoes to the floor with a thud, and almost comically gulped, as if he was acting the part of a man in sexual peril.

Seemingly before Matt knew what hit him, Sharna was all over him, ripping at his shirt and pulling its buttons apart.

In mere seconds, the older woman had the muscular young man’s shirt wide open, revealing his rock-hard pecs and perfectly sculpted abs.

Sharna then quickly moved behind the obviously shocked Matt, and wrenched the loosely hanging shirt down off his shoulders. She pulled it right off his body and carelessly threw it onto the floor.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Matt asked. “You can’t…”

“I’m stripping you, Matt,” Sharna said breathlessly as she went to work on his pants, ripping at their top button and pulling them apart violently. “Don’t act all shy now…you couldn’t wait to get naked in front of me and Abbie in the studio. You teased us and now you’re gonna have to put out.”

Sharna aggressively ripped the zipper down on Matt’s chinos, and then pulled his pants down over his muscled thighs and calves.

With his pants pooled goofily around his ankles, Sharna pushed Matt backward so he was sitting on the edge of her desk.

Taking charge like a wartime general in battle, Sharna grabbed Matt’s ankles, lifted them up, and then pulled his pants right off his legs.

She flicked them back over her shoulder and gave the now underwear-clad Matt a singularly wicked smile. Sharna Khatri was in charge.

“You must be feeling pretty vulnerable right about now,” Sharna giggled. “Stripped down to your panties in a matter of seconds…standing there practically naked in front of a fully dressed woman.”

“I don’t know…” Matt stuttered, Travesti fındıkzade and Sharna didn’t even bother to listen to the rest.

With deft speed, the 32-year-old radio producer grabbed Matt’s Calvin Klein fitted trunks and wrenched them down to his ankles.

Like someone pantsed unexpectedly in public, Matt threw his hands over his now naked crotch, and Sharna laughed uproariously.

“Knock it off, Matt,” she howled. “I’ve seen it! Abbie measured it! I know what you’re packing! Move your fucking hands!”

“This is so humiliating,” Matt muttered and dropped his hands to his sides. “First, I ejaculate in seconds in the studio, and now I’ve been stripped by a woman in her office. I feel completely emasculated.”

“Oh, shut up, Matt,” Sharna giggled and gently grabbed Matt’s huge 23cm flaccid penis. “How could you ever feel emasculated with this thing hanging between your legs? God, let me have a look at you.”

Sharna gave Matt’s cock a few casual, gentle tugs, and then slowly moved around him, drinking in the sight of his muscular, completely waxed body, paying particular attention to his bulging biceps and striated back.

“Mmmm, I like your birthmark,” Sharna said and ran her finger across Matt’s discoloured shoulder blade. “It adds character. It’s cute. And that butt…whoa!”

“You can’t talk about me like that,” Matt said meekly. “It’s not right…”

“It’s not right?” Sharna laughed. “Puh-lease! Bend over and touch your toes, Matt! I want a really good look at your butt.”

“You can’t be serious?” Matt pleaded.

“I’m 100 per cent serious,” Sharna giggled. “Do it now! Bend over and touch your toes!”

With Sharna standing directly behind him, Matt obediently bent over and touched his toes, which made the muscles in his butt and legs stretch and tighten sexily.

It also made his silky smooth, rock hard butt cheeks spread ever so slightly, revealing just a little of the inside of his arse crack.

With prurient glee, Sharna ran her hands all over the naked hunk’s glorious butt, feeling its tense musculature and its smooth, obviously waxed skin.

Then she gently pulled Matt’s butt cheeks apart with a naughty giggle and snuck a humiliating look at his puckered little butt-hole.

“Peekaboo!” Sharna laughed. “Oooh, it’s cute! Nice and smooth…like everything else!”

“Don’t do that!” Matt said impotently. “Um, are we okay in here? Nobody will come in and see me naked?”

“Everyone has gone home for the night, and I’ve locked the door,” Sharna said saucily, and released Matt’s butt cheeks. “You’re all mine, big boy.”

Sharna theatrically placed her right index finger in her mouth and looked Matt luridly up and down as if in deep thought.

“Mmmm…what should I do with you first?” Sharna mused. “I want to kiss and lick you all over…like a male lollipop.”

Sharna moved in front of Matt and pulled him down toward her by the shoulders. She kissed Matt passionately on the mouth, and he responded in kind, kissing her with obvious enthusiasm and excitement.

Sharna heard Matt moan quietly with pleasure, almost like a woman. The naked hunk was obviously enjoying the attention.

With Matt’s marbled arms engulfing her and his enormous penis pushing up against her stomach while he kissed her, Sharna was getting increasingly aroused.

She loved being clothed while Matt was naked and vulnerable, but Sharna also couldn’t wait to feel his warm, paler skin against her hot, deep brown flesh.

With slow, deliberate pleasure, Sharna proceeded to kiss, lick and fondle Matt everywhere, taking in every glorious inch of him.

Her full lips moved thirstily from his handsomely chiselled face down to his neck, and then all across his lightly sweat-slicked, hair-free torso.

“I love the waxed look,” Sharna giggled. “A man’s hair just gets in the way of my tongue.”

Sharna bent down, put her hands firmly on Matt’s hips, and then licked and kissed at his muscled mid-section, tracing the ridges of his abs with her wet tongue, while her hands slid up and down his thighs.

“Oh, Sharna…you’re so sexy,” Matt moaned, and the radio producer smiled, fully aware that she now had the naked hunk under her spell.

“You’re so hot,” Matt moaned almost helplessly. “I haven’t been with many Indian girls…you’re amazing.”

“Well, this Indian girl has been with a lot of Aussie guys,” Sharna laughed, “and I always have fun with them…in whatever way I want.”

In between the fondling and licking, Sharna randomly tugged at Matt’s flaccid cock, and then kneeled to move further down his body, feverishly kissing and licking the younger man’s smooth, waxed legs.

“I have to suck that thing,” Sharna said, crouched on her knees and looking up at Matt’s gorgeous face, which was contorted with pleasure. “I need it in my mouth.”

With that, Sharna grabbed Matt’s slowly swelling member and guided it into her wet, waiting mouth.

Sharna expertly took in its bulbous head, and then felt Matt’s member growing in her mouth.

Sharna worked Matt’s shaft up and down with her lips, and within seconds, the naked hunk had a raging erection again, his penis now extended to its full 31cm.

With pure delight, Sharna flicked around the swollen head of Matt’s gorgeous cock with her darting tongue, and then worked the shaft again.

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

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Mutter und Schwester Lesben?

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

Femdom

Hallo, ich bin Timo und lebe mit meiner Zwillingsschwester Tina und unserer Mutter Nadin in einem Einfamilienhaus in XY. Eigentlich gehörte das Haus den Eltern unseres Vaters. Naja — Vater. Erzeuger trifft es besser. Da der sich aber, als wir gerade mal fünf waren, still und heimlich davon gemacht hatte und nicht mehr auffindbar war, ließen sie es zu gleichen Teilen auf Tina und mich überschreiben. Jetzt sind wir achtzehn und stolze Hausbesitzer. Die Zügel hat aber immer noch Mutter in der Hand. Und uns ist das ganz recht.

Mutti ist eine resolute und kluge Frau und außerdem von überirdischer Schönheit. Wie übrigens Tina auch. Sie hat sich in letzter Zeit buchstäblich vom hässlichen Entlein zum schönen Schwan entwickelt. Ich entwickle mich auch gerade noch etwas. Die Fitnesstudios sind die reinste Abzocke und so haben einige Kumpels und ich vom Direktor die Erlaubnis erbeten, die Sporthalle außerschulisch nutzen zu dürfen. Ach ja, ich hatte ja noch gar nicht erwähnt, dass Tina und ich das Gymnasium besuchen und uns schon langsam auf das Abitur vorbereiten.

Nun also: Dienstag und Donnerstag nutzen wir die Sporthalle mit all ihren Möglichkeiten für jeweils drei Stunden und das macht sich bemerkbar. Auf einem Klassenfoto könnte man sofort sagen, wer in unserer Gruppe ist.

Nun ist aber mit Beginn der Ferien die Halle wegen einiger Reparaturarbeiten gesperrt worden und so war ich also drei Stunden früher zuhaus. Kaum hatte ich die Haustür geschlossen, da hörte ich aus der oberen Etage lautes Seufzen und Stöhnen und gleich darauf einen unterdrückten Schrei. Schnell zog ich meine Schuhe aus und schlich die Treppe hoch. Und dort blieb ich wie angewurzelt stehen. Die Schlafzimmertür stand bis hinten offen und auf dem Bett wälzten sich meine Mutter und meine Schwester. Beide nackt. Tina hatte Mutter offensichtlich gerade zu einem Orgasmus geleckt. Daher der Schrei. Jetzt spielten sie noch ein bisschen und kuschelten sich dann aneinander. Und dann hörte ich folgenden Dialog:

„Tina, mein Liebling, es ist wunderschön mit dir Sex zu haben. Aber willst du für immer auf dieser Seite bleiben? Ich möchte ja schließlich auch mal Enkel. Hast du bisher noch keinen ansprechenden Mann gefunden?”

„Doch, einen gibt es. Einen Einzigen. Aber der Holzkopf hat überhaupt keinen Blick für mich. Er sieht mich überhaupt nicht an. Selbst wenn wir am Tisch sitzen, glotzt er nur auf seinen Teller…. ups.”

„Habe ich das jetzt richtig verstanden? Du liebst deinen Bruder?… Naja, verstehen kann ich das schon. Ist ja auch ein Bild von einem Mann. Dazu noch nett und klug… solche Männer gibt es wirklich nicht allzuviele…. Aber dann könnte ich ja doch keine Oma werden. Denn an Kinder dürftet ihr ja wohl nicht denken.”

„Ach Mami, es ist alles so kompliziert. Ja, ich liebe ihn und ich möchte, dass ER mich entjungfert. Aber wie gesagt — er sieht mich nicht mal an. Was soll ich nur machen?”

„Ich will dir helfen. Aber dann bekomme ich ihn auch mal. Ich möchte endlich auch wieder mal einen Schwanz in der Fotze haben…. Nimmst du denn schon die Pille?”

„Ja, schon ein halbes Jahr. Mami, nun sag schon: wie willst du mir helfen?”

„Ich glaube, unser Timo ist lediglich schüchtern. Ich habe da ein paar Blicke bemerkt, also die hätten dir Löcher in deine Kleidung brennen können. Du musst natürlich auch mitmachen. Wir beide lassen ihn nach und nach immer etwas mehr von uns sehen. Es müsste mit dem Teufel zugehen, wenn er da nicht anbeißt. Doch das Gespräch hat mich schon wieder so geil gemacht. Komm, Schatz, noch eine 69.”

Und dann leckten sie sich gegenseitig und ich schlich mich vondannen.

In dem Wald hinter unserer Siedlung hatte ich einen Lieblingsplatz. Dort ragte ein kleiner Felsen, den die Zeit vergessen hatte, empor und oben gab es einen richtigen Sitz. Dort konnte man wunderbar träumen. Dorthin zog ich mich also jetzt zurück und überlegte.

Meine beiden Frauen waren also nicht lesbisch, sondern befriedigten sich nur gegenseitig ihre Bedürfnisse. Und sie hatten ziemlich deutlich gesagt, dass sie mit mir ficken wollen. Nun ist es nur so, dass Mutter mit ihrer Bemerkung vollkommen recht hatte. Ich bin sehr schüchtern und gegenüber Tina ganz besonders. Ich bin nämlich auch regelrecht verliebt in sie, habe aber Angst, unser gutes Verhältnis zu zerstören, wenn ich ihr davon rede. Jetzt aber ist die Situation eine ganz Andere. Sie will es auch.

Doch wie sollte ich vorgehen? Sollte ich in das Zimmer platzen, wenn sie sich liebten, einen kleinen Skandal machen und rufen: Ich will aber auch!? Nein, Şişli travesti das brächte ich nicht übers Herz. Dann dachte ich: Sie wollen es, dann sollen sie auch aktiv werden. Ich warte ab und reagiere. So war ich also zu einem Ergebnis und zu einem Entschluss gekommen: Ich würde beide ficken, am liebsten zusammen.

Da inzwischen auch die Zeit heran war, wann ich sonst nachhause kam, stieg ich von meinem Sitz herunter und ging heim. Ich machte mich laut bemerkbar und ging dann wie üblich erst mal duschen. Danach ging ich zu Mutter in die Küche. Sie stand da mit so einer Kittelschürze angetan und hatte offensichtlich nichts darunter. Ich wollte einen ersten Test machen.

„Wo ist denn Tina?”

„Die wird in ihrem Zimmer sein.”

Daraufhin näherte ich mich ihr von hinten, legte ihr meine Hände auf die Hüften und küsste ihre nackten Schultern und ihren Nacken.

„Kann ich dir was helfen?” fragte ich flüsternd.

Sie richtete sich auf und lehnte sich mit einem Seufzer nach hinten an mich. Doch dann schüttelte sie sich leicht und meinte lachend:

„Am meisten würdest du mir helfen, wenn auch du in dein Zimmer verschwindest:”

Da küsste ich sie nochmal auf den Nacken und verschwand. Doch ich ging nicht in mein Zimmer, sondern in Tinas. Ich klopfte kurz und ging sofort rein. Sie stand nur mit einem Höschen bekleidet vor ihrem Kleiderschrank und starrte mich vollkommen sprachlos an. Dadurch gab sie mir reichlich Gelegenheit, mir ihre herrlichen Brüste anzusehen.

„Oh, entschuldige. Aber ich hatte geklopft.” Und war wieder draußen.

Das war sicher noch nicht das, was sie sich vorgenommen hatte, aber es war schon ein schöner Anfang.

Bei Tina machte ich einen zweiten Versuch am Mittwoch. Ich klopfte lange und wartete.

„Moment” kam es von drinnen und nach einigen Sekunden: „Komm rein.”

Da saß sie mit so einem losen Top über ihren Hausaufgaben.

„Kann ich dir helfen?… Tina, du scheinst mir vollkommen verspannt zu sein. Soll ich dich ein bisschen massieren?”

„Oh ja, Timo. Das wäre herrlich.”

Ich stellte mich also hinter ihren Stuhl und begann, Nacken und Schultern zu massieren. Schon bald war ein wohliges Seufzen und Stöhnen zu hören. Ich massierte dann etwas am Rücken nach unten und im Gegenzug auch vorne nach unten. Als ich ihre Brüste erreichte, wurde das Stöhnen lauter.

„So” sagte ich dann „Jetzt müsstest du dich besser fühlen. Tschüss.” Und ging.

Donnerstag war wieder „Trainingstag”. Ich wartete eine Weile und schlich mich dann nach oben. Und richtig lagen meine beiden Schönheiten wieder in Mutters Bett.

„Ach Mutti, ich weiß nicht, ob das so eine gute Idee war. Gestern hat er mich massiert und als es mir fast gekommen wäre, da hört er auf und haut ab. Ich hätte ihn umbringen können.”

„Nun, aber ein Gutes hat das ja schon mal. Er hat dich immerhin berührte. Mich hat er auch so im Nacken und auf die Schultern geküsst, dass ich ganze Scharen von Ameisen gespürt habe. Ich denke, wir sind auf dem richtigen Weg. Lass uns so weitermachen. Doch jetzt komm und küss mich.”

Und schon bald leckten sie sich wieder. Doch das wollte ich jetzt nicht sehen. So verzog ich mich leise wieder.

In der Folgezeit bekam ich dann tatsächlich immer mal hier eine Brust, da einen Schenkel zu sehen. Doch Attacken meinerseits gab es keine mehr. Bei einer Begebenheit mit Mutti wäre es dann aber doch beinahe passiert. Tina war noch unterwegs, da rief mich Mutter in die Küche. Sie stand in einem sehr kuzen Rock auf der zweiten Stufe der Leiter,

„Kannst du mal bitte die Leiter halten? Ich hab sonst Angst.”

Sie stieg also ganz nach oben und da leuchtete mir wie der Mond ihr nackter Arsch entgegen. Wie Automaten gingen meine Hände nach oben und fassten diese beiden göttlichen Halbkugeln.

„Timo, was tust du? Was soll das?”

„Naja, wenn was passiert, so habe ich dich doch so viel sicherer.”

Und es passierte tatsächlich was. Mutter wackelte und fiel… in meine Arme. Gesicht zu Gesicht sahen wir uns schweigend an.

„Timo, du bist so stark” und ihr Mund näherte sich dem meinen, der ihr entgegen kam. Und dann küssten wir uns. Lange und verzehrend. Dann schob sie mich leicht von sich.

„Lass mich bitte wieder runter.”

„Nur, wenn du mich nochmal küsst.”

Sie schlug ihre Arme um meinen Hals und küsste mich hingebungsvoll. Während des Kusses ließ ich sie langsam zu Boden gleiten und als sie stand, glitt meine Hand zu ihrer Brust. Doch ich hatte sie kaum berührt, da ging die Haustür. Blitzschnell Şişli travestileri fuhren wir auseinander und ich lief in mein Zimmer und hörte hinter mir noch einen Laut des Bedauerns.

Ein anderes Mal stand ich unter der Dusche, da kam Tina hereingestürmt.

„Entschuldige, Timo, aber ich muss mal ganz dringend.”

Dabei zog sie ihr Höschen herunter und setzte sich auf die Brille. Halb erhob sie sich dann und tupfte umständlich ihre Muschi ab. Dass sie sie mir dabei ausführlich zeigte, nein — präsentierte, war augenscheinlich. Und mir wuchs unter der Dusche ein drittes Bein.

Dann führten sie noch schärfere Waffen ins Feld. Als erste Mutter. Die Tür zu ihrem Schlafzimmer stand weit offen und darin Mutter. Splitternackt. Natürlich blieb ich stehen und betrachtete sie. Als sie mich bemerkte schien es einen Moment, als ob sie sich mit den Händen bedecken wollte. Doch es war nur ein Zucken.

„Timo, du darfst mich nicht so sehen. Ich bin deine Mutter…. Sieh mich nicht an. Ich bin alt und hässlich.”

Da hielt es mich nicht länger und ich ging hinein und stellte mich hinter sie.

„Mama, wozu hast du diesen großen Schrankspiegel. Sieh doch ab und zu mal hinein. Du bist wunderschön. Sieh mal… deine Brüste sind noch hoch und fest und dein Hinter straff und knackig. Mama, du bist schön wie eine Göttin.”

Dabei hatte ich ihre Brüste gepackt und knetete und massierte sie und bei den letzten Worten sank ich vor ihr auf die Knie, umarmte sie über ihrem Hin… Arsch und küsste ihre Möse.

„Timo, du Ferkel, lass das. Hör sofort auf damit. Das darfst du nicht.”

Doch sie ließ zu, dass ich meine Zunge ein paar Mal durch ihre Spalte zog, ehe sie mich von sich schob.

„Geh jetzt bitte.”

Zwei Tage später gleiches Bild bei Tina.

„Timo, sieh mich nicht an. Ich bin hässlich. Alles Ecken und Kanten.”

Wieder stellte ich mich hinter sie und sie vor ihren großen Spiegel.

„Tina, Schwesterchen, Das warst du vielleicht noch vor zwei, drei Jahren. Doch jetzt bist du ein schöner Schwan geworden. Sieh doch mal, was du für herrliche Brüste hast (die ich dabei ausgiebig knetete und massierte), sieh hier deinen knackigen Arsch. Tina, du bist schön wie ein Engel. Oohh, ich habe den Himmel auf Erden: Mutter eine Göttin und die Schwester ein Engel.”

„Du Blödmann, du Spinner, hau bloß ab” rief sie lachend.

Und am Sonnabend bließen sie zum Generalangriff.

„Was meint ihr,” eröffnete Mutter „wollen wir uns bei dem schönen Wetter in den Garten legen und sonnen?”

„Au ja. Ganz streifenfrei.”

„Und was soll das bedeuten?”

„Wir wollen uns ganz nackt sonnen. FKK sozusagen.”

„Nöö, dann ohne mich.”

„Hast du Angst, dass wir dir was weggucken könnten. Komm, sei kein Frosch.”

„Aber ich bekomme dann…”

„Einen Steifen? Das wollen wir doch sehr hoffen. Alles Andere wäre eine Beleidigung.”

„Na komm schon. Du hast von uns schon so viel gesehen, jetzt sind wir auch mal dran.”

So schlugen sie mich vereint breit. Unser Garten ist von einer mehr als zwei Meter hohen Hecke umgeben und von außen nicht einsehbar. Unter ein paar Obstbäumen standen drei Liegen mit Polstern. Da war Sonne und Schatten. Die Mädchen ließen ihre Kleider fallen und legten sich links und rechts. Ich sagte mir: Augen zu und durch, zog meine Shots aus und legte mich auf die mittlere. Natürlich stand mein Schwanz wie ein Fahnenmast.

„Mein Gott, Timo, ist der groß und so hart. Hast du etwas dagegen, wenn ich mich mal da drauf setze?”

„Ich schlafe tief und fest. Ihr könnt alles mit mir machen.”

„Tina, entschuldige, aber ich kann nicht anders.”

Damit saß Mutter auf mir, führte sich meinen Pint ein und begann mich zu reiten. Zuerst noch verhalten, doch schon bald mit wilder Leidenschaft.

„Mama, ich kanns nicht mehr halten. Mir kommts.”

„Ja, mein Schatz, mir auch. Lass es kommen, spritz mich voll. Aaaaa, jeeeetzt.”

Und da brachen auch meine Schleusen und ich überflutete ihren Tunnel.

Und dann klappte sie zusammen und lag als ein zuckendes Bündel Lust auf meiner Brust.

Als sich unser Atem langsam wieder normalisiert hatte meinte sie:

„Oh Gott, nach so vielen Jahren wieder einen Schwanz in der Fotze. Und dann auch noch so einen guten. Timo, das war großartig. Und was sagst du dazu?”

Ich tat so, als ob ich aufwachen würde.

„Was soll ich wozu sagen? Ich habe tief und fest geschlafen.”

„Oh Timo, du hast die Mama in den siebenten Himmel gevögelt.”

„Naja, da gehört sie ja auch Travesti şişli hin als Göttin.”

„Sag mal… könntest du das nochmal? Eigentlich habe ich mich vorgedrängelt. Eigentlich sollte Tina zuerst dran sein. Sie ist nämlich noch Jungfrau und möchte, dass du das änderst. Würdest du das tun? Deine Schwester entjungfern und ficken?”

„Nach einer Göttin auch noch einen Engel ficken? Oh Gott, ich bin tatsächlich im Himmel.”

„Dann lasst uns aber ins Haus, ins Bett gehen. Für dein erstes Mal sind die Liegen doch zu hart.”

Nur wenige Minuten später standen wir im Schlafzimmer. Mutter legte noch ein Handtuch unter und dann Tina darauf. Weit spreizte diese ihre Schenkel und ihre Spalte öffnete sich. Doch da es bei Mutter so schnell gegangen war, ließ ich mir jetzt Zeit. Ich legte mich zwischen Tinas Schenkel und betrachtete mir erst mal das Häutchen, das ich jetzt zerstören sollte. Tinas Pflaume entströmte ein betäubender Duft, der mich um den Vestand brachte. Ich presste meinen Mund auf ihre Spalte und begann sie zu lecken. Tina wurde dabei immer unruhiger, begann zu zittern und zu zucken. Und dann:

„Oh Timo, mir kommts schon.”

Schnell rutschte ich nach oben und während sie von den Konvulsionen ihres Orgasmus geschüttelt wurde, rammte ich meine Lanze in ihre Fotze. Danach lagen wir eine Weile still. Tina sollte sich an den Eindringling gewöhnen. Schließlich begann sie selbst sich unter mir zu bewegen. Mit kleinen Stößen kam sie mir entgegen, die von mir mit kräftigeren beantwortet wurden. Und schließlich fickten wir halt- und hemmungslos. Gleichzeitig überrollte uns ein fulminanter Orgasmus und ich füllte auch Tinas Fotze ab. Fast gleichzeitig mit Tinas erlösendem Schrei kam auch Mutters. Sie hatte sich neben uns selbst gefingrt. Schwer atment und keuchend brauchten wir noch eine ganze Weile, bis wir uns wieder normalisiert hatten.

„Wow, das war umwerfend. Mutti, entschuldige. Mit dir ist es auch fantastisch, aber nicht mit dem eben erlebten vergleichbar.”

„Tina, du brauchst dich nicht zu entschuldigen. Das weiß ich doch. Ein Schwanz ist eben ein Schwanz und durch keine Finger zu ersetzen…. Ups… Timo, das hast du jetzt nicht gehört.”

„Aber Mama, das weiß ich doch schon lange” und ich erzählte meine Geschichte.

„Du bist so ein mieses, gemeines Arschloch. Lässt uns hier abstrampeln und amüsiert sich noch dabei. Na warte, das gibt Rache.” Und beide warfen sich auf mich.

Am Ende lag Mutter unter mir und meine Eichel zielte auf ihre Öffnung.

„Na los,” keuchte sie „stoß schon zu und schände deine Mutter. Tu mir nur Gewalt an…. Timo, Liebster, komm und fick mich endlich.”

Da war ich auch schon drin. Es wurde ein langsamer, zärtlicher Fick. Doch je näher wir dem Ziel kamen, um so wilder wurden wir und explodierten schließlich in einem gemeinsamen gewaltigen Orgasmus. Kaum hatten wir uns etwa beruhigt, da warf mich Tina zur Seite und sich zwischen Mutters Schenkel.

„Jetzt, wo er sowieso alles weiß, darf ich es ja offiziel.”

Und dann schlürfte sie Mutters Fotze aus, was der einen weiteren Orgasmus bescherte.

„So, Kinder,” begann Mutter dann, als sie wieder unten war „das erste Ziel ist erreicht. Tina ist von ihrem geliebten Bruder entjungfert worden und auch ich hatte endlich wieder einen Schwanz im Bauch. Wie soll es nun mit uns weitergehen?”

„Ich verstehe nicht. Was meinst du damit? Ich bin dafür, dass wir einfach den Status Quo beibehalten. Ab heute musst du nicht mehr einsam und allein in deinem Bett schlafen, sondern teilst es mit deinen Kindern. Und dann wird gefickt, wo und wann immer sich eine Gelegenheit bietet. Oder, Timo? Was meinst du?”

„Wer könnte da bei solch himmlischen Wesen wie euch nein sagen!? Aber ich glaube, Mutti wollte noch etwas weiter hinaus. Einen Blick in die Zukunft werfen. Ja, Mutti, auch mir würde es so gefallen, wie es jetzt ist. Wir bleiben zusammen als eine Familie. Sollte jedoch jemand einen anderen Partner kennenlernen, du siehst immerhin noch fantastisch aus, dann gibt es keine Eifersüchteleien. Die darf es auch nicht innerhalb unserer Familie geben. Wir werden keine Strichliste führen, wer wann dran ist. Und wenn euch wieder mal das Verlangen nach einander überkommt, so liege ich halt daneben und vergnüge mich mit Fräulein Faust.”

„Mutti! Hast du das gehört? Dieser Wüstling hat schon eine Andere in petto.”

„Aber Tina. Das ist doch…”

„Ja, ich weiß ja. Ich würde zu gerne mal zuschauen, wenn er sich einen runterholt.”

„Nun, ich denke, wenn wir so zusammen leben, wird es auch dazu kommen. Und sicher nicht nur ein Mal.”

Und Mutter hatte recht. Bis heute leben wir als eine glückliche Familie. Kurz vor Ende ihres Studiums hat Tina in Abstimmung mit uns die Pille abgesetzt. Soviel wissen wir schon: Es wird ein Mädchen.

Kommt doch mal vorbei.

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Dreamer Ch. 03

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Amateur

Dreamer – Ch. 3

Heather took me to a Chinese restaurant. I had chicken with cashew nuts. We each had three sakes. When it got time to leave, I reached into my bra to get some money out.

“No sweetie. This one’s on me. You can return the favor once you’ve built a little bank roll. And from the comments I heard, that’s not going to take long. One of the regulars said you were the best cock sucker he ever met. And all the guys who fucked you said they’d be back for more.”

For some strange reason, this made me feel proud. I was becoming a good whore. And I was getting a reputation.

We went down the block to a second-hand store. I was able to get a dress, two skirts a couple of blouses and two pairs of shoes for a total of $96. I started looking at the underwear when Heather stopped me.

“Nookie, never buy used underwear. There’s a cheap lingerie shoppe around the corner we can stop at.”

And so we did. Three pairs of lacy panties and a couple of bras set me back another $42. I still had $106 left.

When we left the store, Heather said she was going home and would see me tomorrow.

She knew something was wrong by the look on my face.

“What’s the matter sweetie?”

I shuffled my feet a little and looked at the ground. “I have nowhere to go.”

Without a word, she took me by the hand, and we walked another two blocks. We went into a building and walked up three flights of stairs. She unlocked a door, and we entered a small efficiency apartment. It was tiny but it was impeccably clean.

“You can stay here if you want. The only thing is there’s only one bed.” She raised an eyebrow when she said that.

“That would be okay. I don’t take up much room.”

She stripped off her clothing and put on a blue chemise. Kızılay travesti She rummaged in her closet and came out with a pink baby doll nightie. “This may be a little big but it’s the best I have for you.”

I put on the nightie and climbed into bed next to her. She leaned up on one elbow and turned towards me. She brushed my hair out of my face and said, “Nookie, have you ever been with another woman?” While she said that, her hand went between my legs.

I decided to play this one honestly. “No, no I haven’t.” And my hand went between her legs.

“Sweetie, I’ve wanted you since the moment I saw you. You’re so pretty. And so real.”

“Heather, I’ve never done this before. And I’m not sure I would want to with anyone but you. I, um, may be in love with you.” I hoped I didn’t just make a mistake.

“Nookie, I’m so glad to hear you say that. I feel the same way.”

We spent most of that night exploring each other’s body. Every inch was exposed to lustful hands, lips, and tongues. I loved it most when she sucked on my tits. And although I think it shocked her at first, she seemed to really like it when I put my tongue up her ass. I did that several times during the night, and she ended up orgasming each time. And she used her tongue to bring me to orgasm five times during the night.

In three days, I had given my first (and multiple) blow job, been fucked for the first (and multiple) time and been fucked in the ass. And now I had my first lesbian experience, which was the best of all. The encounters with the guys were ‘having sex’. All they wanted was to blow their load in one of my orifices. Whether or not I enjoyed it didn’t matter to them. But with Heather, it was ‘making love’. It was so tender, and we both were so attentive to each other’s Kızılay travestileri needs and pleasure. I decided two things that night: 1. I was a lesbian; and 2, I really did love Heather.

We were a few minutes late the next morning. Neither of us wanted to get out of bed. Besides wanting to make love again, I don’t think either of us slept more than a half hour the previous night. Alejandro looked at his watch and gave us a dirty look when we finally got on the floor.

It was a typical morning. Five or six blowjobs and a few fucks. I was chugging Red Bulls to stay awake. As a result, I was extra energetic for the fucks. The customers appreciated it. I made $400 in tips and had five orgasms.

I crashed hard early in the afternoon. One of the regulars was doing me doggy style when I felt myself falling asleep. Lucky for me he was kind of rough and I woke up after a very forceful thrust from him.

About an hour before the end of my shift, I was summoned to Alejandro’s office. Dianna was sitting on the desk naked with her legs spread wide.

Alejandro motioned for me to sit on the sofa. “I’ve got an out call for the two of you tomorrow. Together. The clients are a man and a woman and you two are going to be horny schoolgirls They specifically asked for the two youngest looking girls I have.”

Dianna looked almost as young as I did. Her smallish breasts and thin figure made her look like she was in high school.

“No makeup except some heavy pink lipstick. A short plaid skirt and a white blouse. White knee socks and some saddle shoes. But what you wear underneath the skirt and blouse should be really slutty.”

“Dianna, Julio knows where you live. He’ll pick you up at 11:30 after he gets Nookie. Where do you live Nookie.”

“I’m Travesti kızılay staying with Heather until I get a place of my own.”

He gave me a look and said, “That explains the lateness this morning. Don’t make a habit out of it. I don’t care what you do on your own time but I expect you to be on the floor when scheduled. Understand?’

“Yes sir.”

“Okay, Julio will pick you up at eleven…Dianna, you can go. I have something else to discuss with Nookie.”

Dianna gave me a look on her way out. I bet she figured I was going to be sucking cock or be bent over the desk after she left.

When the door closed, Alejandro looked at me. “How do you like it here Nookie? Is anything bothering you?”

I wasn’t sure what he was getting at, but I decided to be honest.

“Well, um, Officer Bryan says he’s going to fuck me in the ass every time he comes in. Do I really have to do that?”

He gave me that dirty look again. “Nookie, let me explain something to you. It’s imperative that we keep the cop happy. So you need to do anything he wants. And that includes getting fucked in the ass. If you didn’t want to get fucked in the ass, you shouldn’t have such a juicy one. Got it?’

“Um, okay.”

He knew I wasn’t happy. “I’ll tell you what. If he fucks you in the ass, I’ll give you $25 instead of the usual $5. Just don’t tell any of the other girls.”

I would get $100 for doing this with a regular customer. But I decided not to push it. I just smiled and nodded.

“Nookie, I noticed you were falling asleep when one of the customers was plowing you from behind. Good thing he didn’t notice. If it happens again, you’ll be giving blowjobs on your knees in a dirty men’s room at the truck stop. Understood?”

“Yes Sir. It won’t happen again.”

“That’s good. You have a lot of talent Sweetie. You can make a lot of money in this business. Don’t fuck it up.”

“I won’t.”

He looked at his watch. “Okay your shift is almost over. Come over here and get on your knees. You have just enough time for you to suck my cock.”

So of course, I did.

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