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AUTHOR’S NOTE: Serendipity — 36 A geyser in the office

Many thanks go to RF-Fast for his editing and suggestions that enhanced the story. Any bad grammar left is wholly on me and my artistic style.

LEGALESE: Don’t read this if you are underage, if it is illegal in your area, if it is offensive to you, or if you cannot distinguish fiction from reality. This is a work of fiction. All characters active are 18 years of age or older.

Copyright (c) 2014 by Acup

36 — A geyser in the office

I felt Sam get up EARLY, and she flashed me her sheer thong covered pussy before she headed out the door. I just closed the one eye I had opened and cuddled back under the blanket with my women.

When I actually woke, it was to a different situation than previous days. I had Brittany on one side, and Maria with Maya between us on the other. And there was a large monster crawling up under the covers between my legs! It was going to eat me! I felt it taking my cock down her throat…. MMMmmmmm… Gooooood monster!

Nicole enjoyed herself a bit, feeling me get hard as she swallowed me down. She loved feeling me harden in her throat, and I objected to it strenuously… by putting a hand on her head and encouraging her to do it again.

After she had had her morning tease, she reached up and pulled herself up my body dragging her hard nipples along my thighs and up my chest.

“Mmmmmm, my little chocolate pixie…” giving her a nice kiss with her laying on me. “You didn’t sleep next to me last night?”

“I don’t have to sleep next to you every night.” she gave me another kiss, then scooted sideways on top of Brittany, groping her tits and giving her an even better kiss than I got while grinding pussy to pussy.

I would have watched that for a while but Maya was waking up and announcing it to the world. I rolled over to see Maria pull Maya across to her far tit, then cup the other and look at me. I saw a drop form on the tip of her nipple, she was full enough to dribble all over if she didn’t get some relief.

Oh I guessss, if I realllly have to I could be convinced toooo…. Goooood this is deliciousssss…. Her milk spraying into my mouth as soon as I applied the slightest suction on her tit. Cupping the side of her tit for support feeling the heat from her. Then after I had gone to all the trouble to relieve the pressure on that tit, she shifts Maya over and lets her drink it down. I mean after I went through all the hard part of not letting her milk dribble all over… sheeeesh! Grin…

Since Nicole and Brittany were still cuddling and Maria was still nursing, I decided to get breakfast started. And no ladies I didn’t just pull out the boxes of cereal. I got the pans and the BACON on, LOTS OF BACONNNNNN, making sure there was plenty to go around, I could always eat any extra… The girls came in giving me a bad time about cooking, but quieted down when I got the eggs out and did the four over easy for Nicole and Brittany, then scrambled mine and Maria’s. I popped the toast down as I was doing theirs… thank heaven for four slice toasters!

Not long after breakfast it was back to work for everyone, Nicole on the phone at her computer, Maria and Brittany in their workshops. Maria with a back log of tailoring to do, and Brittany was working on Christine’s wedding ‘dress’. From what I understand it was going to be a silver mesh with lots of sparkles. Only the veil and stockings were going to be material, and the veil was coming off some sort of tiara.

And as much as I wanted to just walk around and ogle women, Jean and Dean showed up and we had the camera and recorders to finish in the sorority house.

After a bit of groping and playing whenever I went by one of the workshops, we had the cameras mounted and connected on that end by lunch, leaving Jean and Dean to do all the final hookups and tweaking in the afternoon. From now on all the extracurricular activities would be captured on tape! The girls were all still trying to get things done, so it was just quick sandwiches for lunch, and then I had to decide what I was going to do.

It had been a week since I’d seen my little pipsqueak, and from the outside it looked like the barn was at a standstill which meant it was going along on the inside, so I decided to check it out. And being the energetic guy I was… I drove over in Brittany’s car…

Things were coming along nicely. The stalls were up and the electrician was working up on some scaffolding, I stuck my head in the office door, and I was amazed! Nice sized office with four desks, well lit, and of course one raised for the little queen… go figure. “So are you getting anything mersin escort accomplished in here?” I called out.

“DANNY!” she called out turning from her crowd. “I’ll be with you in a second.” I took a look around, noticing some fine craftsmanship. It wasn’t fancy, but it was all nice clean lines and good tight joints.

There was a slap on my ass, and I turned to see my pipsqueak behind me. “So what do you think?” waiving her hand.

“Pretty nice, plenty of space…”

“Nice? It’s four times the size of that little stall we used to cram into, and check this out.” She turned to the raised desk and began walking around it… and came up to eye level with me! I stuck my head around and saw she was on a platform, the desk constructed for someone her height to boot.

“Not bad pipsqueak… got your own throne now do you?”

“Tom, one of the construction guys, did it just for me. You aren’t the only one who likes good things in small packages.”

I came around the side, and Gladys came over to meet me, turning to let me peek down her shirt. I squeezed her ass getting a little moan when I switched cheeks and tried to wiggle my fingers between her cheeks and said, “Naughty naughty flashing the visitors…” then turned to leave with her grinning behind me.

I asked around, and was directed to a middle aged gentleman. “You Tom?”

He didn’t even look away from the molding he was working on. “Yup…” he said eventually.

“Nice work on the desk and platform.”

“……….Thanks…”

“I have a similar project I’d like you to take a look at.”

He worked his chisel a bit, then “Like what?”

“Gladys spends some time at the house, and the stools around the island are way too tall for her to get up on, and she doesn’t like having to have help to get up there.”

He stopped, and actually cracked a smile as he finally turned to look at me. “She is an independent little rascal isn’t she?”

“That she is. Is it something you might be able to take a look at?”

He turned back to his work, “We finish around four thirty, I’ll stop over after work.”

“Let me give you the phone number so you can call ahead…”

“No need, I was there for your big speech, my girlfriend is one of your regular visitors…”

“Oh… well I’ll see you later then.” Shaking my head and contemplating what he said, and my not recognizing him…

I came in the front door, and had to stop and look. At lunch Nicole had been wearing her beige satin robe, letting it cover her nipples but with them obviously standing out. But now she was totally naked… if you could consider a bright pink plug in her ass, an equally bright green one in her pussy, and her white fancy collar and nipple shields on instead of her regular collar.

Nicole turned her ass to me a bit more still leaning over the desk instead of sitting in her chair while twisting her upper body letting me get an even better look at her double plug filled bottom while keeping her nipples still in view, flipping her headset phone cord over her shoulder.

I was taking in the sights and my cock went from firm to rock hard in a matter of heart beats.

“Oh yeah, he’s taking a good look right now…”

“I have no idea. He got up before I could get a load down my throat this morning, but it’s been so long since he ravaged my ass….” wiggling her hips a bit.

I peeled off my shirt and dropped my pants and boxers, steeping out of my shoes as I did my pants.

“Oh don’t say that, if he was triplets he could do me all at once…”

“But it feels so good going past my lips and down my throat…”

“On your back on your desk,” I said to her.

“Yes Master,” as she scrambled to turn and roll up on the desk, scooting forward enough to let her head hang over. I smiled as she not only kicked her head back, but stuck her tongue out a little almost begging for me to put it down her throat.

I stepped around the front, walking toward her with my hard cock bobbing.

“OH YES! He’s going to put it in….. ” the rest of that was muffled as I slid into her mouth and down her throat, watching her throat expand as I did. It was almost enough to make me cum right there.

I held my cock in her throat a bit, but pulled back before she would run short of air. Letting the head of my cock rest between her lips while her tongue danced over it, working my cock in and out of her mouth while I reached down and cupped those delicious little mounds.

Listening to her screech and feeling it on my cock when I pulled her nipples up rolling them between my fingers.

I slid back down her throat as I leaned muğla escort forward to grab her thighs, pulling her legs up and wide as I stood back up and out of her throat. Working the head of my cock between her lips after hooking her ankles under my arms and reaching do to play with her clit standing out from under the edge of that green plug.

It took Nicole a few moments before getting her to slide her hands up to my hips to guide my speed, giving that clit a flick every few strokes. Her moans, grunts and screeches were getting louder as I lightly brought my fingers up from her mound toward her chest.

She gripped my ass and pulled me down her throat, as my fingers circled the outer edges of her little bumps.

Nicole was getting close. I could feel her legs start trembling under my arms. I kept circling her tits, getting closer and closer to her nipples with my finger tips.

When she went to suck me down again, I cupped the outside of her tits pushing them in at the same time I brought my fingers up and pinched and pulled on her nipples.

There were fingernails in my ass cheeks as she rammed me down her throat. She screeched around my cock and clamped her lips down HARD as her body tensed and the plug in her pussy shot out and hit the wall with a LOUD thump.

The next screech and spasm was accompanied by a squirt like a fire hose splashing on the wall.

I started cumming down her throat on the next spasm and squirt. I got two shots down her throat and she reached up and clamped her hand around my cock with her lips around the head as she spasmed and sprayed.

Nicole spasmed and sprayed three more times before flopping on the desk totally drained of energy, her head falling away from my still hard cock.

Well she might have been drained, but I was still ready to go after she cut me off mid orgasm.

I walked around the other side of the desk, enjoying the view of her splayed out. Her body was completely covered in a post orgasmic sheen, with her pink pussy peaking out between her lips.

AND THAT PINK PLUG STILL IN HER ASS! That meant she had cleansed, filling and stretching her belly. I didn’t think my cock could have gotten any harder, but it sure was aching for her ass

I lifted her legs and rolled her to her belly, even semi-conscious she complied with my directions, never having taken her headset off.

“OHHH FUUUUCK!” she exclaimed as I twisted and tugged on the plug in her ass before letting it pop out. Her ass was closing slowly like it missed being filled.

I slid my cock into her dripping pussy, and then right back out and placed it against her ass.

“YESSSS MASTERRRRR…” as I slid deep into her in one stroke.

I grabbed her waist and she grabbed the edge of the desk, her hips hooked on this side.

I pulled almost out, and then began a good hard fuck of her ass, my aching cock thoroughly enjoying her tight ass.

“OH… FUCK… YESSS… FUCK… MY…. ASSS…FUUUUCK… MY… ASSS… MASSS… TERRRRR…. AAAAHHHHHHHH!!!…” and she was cumming again. I could feel her ass clench as her pussy sprayed my balls.

I got a grip on her shoulders and gave her two last hard thrusts and began unloading into her ass, feeling it tighten and spasm around me. Everything I had pent up from this morning, everything I had pent up from playing with Gladys, EVERYTHING I HAD PENT UP FROM WATCHING HER SPRAY THE WALLLLLL….. I simply detonated as I collapsed on her back still pumping every last bit I had into her ass….

I have no idea how, but when I opened my eyes we were on the big bed. Nicole was cuddled into my side, I would recognize those small tits and huge hard nipples anywhere. I cracked my eyes to see Brittany with her head on my thigh, gently stroking my cock. I wasn’t limp, but after that session with Nicole I wasn’t very firm either.

Behind her in the chair was Maria nursing Maya, and both of them had the naughtiest grin.

Nicole moved a little, “Please tell me you got that on tape.” She said with a grin not even opening her eyes.

“Yes Mistress,” Brittany responded. Maria just snickered a bit, Maya even gurgled like it was an all girls joke.

“Who were you talking to on the headset?” I asked, my curiosity up now.

Nicole pointed to Brittany and Maria with a grin, her eyes still closed.

I was probably going to say something very witty about then, but was interrupted.

“YOU TWO NEED TO GO INTO THE PORN INDUSTRY!” was hollered from around the corner. Followed soon by Jean with something trailing down her thighs, and then shortly by Dean with a satisfied grin. “That was sooo hot watching nevşehir escort you squirt the wall, I couldn’t stop cumming. And begging to get your ass fucked…” as she waived a VHS cassette.

Brittany and Maria cheered as Nicole covered her still closed eyes and smiled, “I did not…”

I pulled her hand from her eyes and waited for her to look at me. “Several times, and you almost blasted a hole in the drywall..” grinning at her.

“And we have the tape to prove it.” Jean added, waiving the tape in her hand.

“OH GOOOOOD…” and rolled to bury her head in my shoulder.

I grinned and kissed her forehead, I didn’t have a choice since she wouldn’t let me raise her head. I looked at Jean standing there with her pussy flowing down her thighs. “You look like you need a shower.” I said while I stared at her thighs.

Jean gasped, and then pointed to Nicole. “It’s all her fault..” and turned grabbing Dean who was trying not to laugh to haul him off to one of the showers.

The girls giggled as Nicole tried to hide in my shoulder a bit, then finally broke out giggling herself. We drug ourselves out to the kitchen, the girls getting another chuckle as Nicole sat down on the plug in her ass with a squeak. We were so out of it neither of us remembered one of the girls plugging her after I made my deposit, much less getting to the living room.

Maria put some leftover pizza in the oven to warm and headed around the corner with Maya. We chatted a bit about the upcoming Halloween party, the girls being very vague about costumes, but the discussion of how to hang bells on every ones nipples had my attention.

Maria reappeared with Maya in a towel. After putting her in the carrier, she pulled her pumps out sighing in relief as they extracted her milk. She had no more started when the doorbell rang.

Brittany raised an eyebrow not expecting anyone, but still answered it naked since who ever it was had a gate code. “Hello?”

“Hello Brittany.” I heard a mans voice say.

Brittany’s eyes went wide at the man recognizing her, and Maria looked worried leaning over the counter with the pumps doing their job.

“In here Tom,” I hollered out.

Brittany opened the door all the way letting him in, and Maria was reaching for the power switch on her pumps.

“Relax ladies, Tom is one of our members.”

“Oh,” Brittany said, Maria wasn’t so sure.

“Actually my girl friend is your regular member, I’m just the plus one part of the time. Maria,” he nodded to her. “Nicole,” nodding to her as well putting Maria a little more at ease.

He looked down at one of the stools, turning it and leaning it back. “This what you were talking about?” I nodded to him, “Yea I can see her problem with them.” he turned and looked a bit. “Can I take one with me?”

“Sure.”

“Thanks.” And picked it up to put over his shoulder. He stopped a bit and looked at Maria with her pumps. She was starting to feel a bit self conscious, “That looks like it’s hard on your back.”

“Uhhh, kind of…” she responded. He nodded and headed out the door.

The girls were all laughing, and Nicole finally asked. “What was that all about?”

So while Maria finished pumping, put her stuff away, and dished up the pizza I relayed the events of visiting Gladys, minus the ass squeezing and looking down her shirt. I continued with the follow up story with Tom about the stool. That got me ‘the look’ from the girls so I assume I did something right.

“So where did you two wander off to?” I asked Maria.

“Over for Maya’s bath.” She responded and went back to eating.

“Why over there?” Okay, I guess that was a ‘dumb guy’ question from the looks the girls were giving me.

“It’s the only big sink Master.” and rolled her eyes, giggling with the rest of the girls.

I looked at her for a few seconds, making a mental inventory of our bathrooms and sinks. Sure enough, all the bathrooms were showers not tubs, and all the big sinks were doubles except the one in the other house. We are going to have to do something about that.

We retired to the big bed and the TV, the girls finally finding something not too objectionable to me. I was half watching and half thinking over the baby bath thing. I didn’t have a ‘plan’ so to speak, but we’ll have to see what I could find at the surplus shop.

After a while they actually found a decent movie to watch. We curled up, and just like the other night, Sam came strolling in, shedding clothes on the way in and up to the shower.

Freshly washed, grinning, and drying her hair we heard all about her trip back even though we didn’t understand half of what she was talking about. We let her grin and ramble a bit. Once she had it all out she curled up and we all called it a night.

For those of you that have stuck with me on this series, thank you. And don’t forget to scroll down a bit further to vote, it is appreciated. But remember… it is a series!

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

My name is Belle and I have lived a pretty boring life up into recently. My father still calls me Silver Belle, he loved that stupid Christmas song as a kid, and named me after the song when I was born on December 24th, Christmas Eve. I love my father but the guy has to get a life.

My life has been so boring partly because I was raised to live a boring life, but mostly because I went a long with living the life styles of bored and helpless. My parents believed in a discipline and education. I’ve been getting straight As for as long as I can remember, I’ve been polite to the rudest people on earth, and I haven’t experienced anything. I was an eighteen year old virgin living in the same pink painted room, with the same lame Barbie dolls, with the same pink carpet and no hope of ever escaping.

On May 15th I noticed my senior year in high school was absolutely flying by. Daddy’s Silver Belle was on the honor roll, Student Council president and head cheerleader. I hated all of it, but my life was dedicated to my parents. I felt trapped and worst of all, I didn’t know who I was. I desperately needed a change from all the things that were the same. So on that day in May, I took small steps to a change. Instead of three meals, I ate four. Instead of doing all my homework, I did most of it. When it came right down to it, I was taking the smallest damn steps a person could take and I was frightened by every moment of it. I was pathetic.

The nest day I decided I was going to do the best worst thing I could come up with. I asked my good friend Meagon, she’s my best friend, ten times smarter then me, just as pretty and a total slut, if I could have a cigarette.

“For what?” she laughed at me. “You don’t even know how to smoke.”

“So,” I said. I wanted to tell her the truth. “I want to make a change. I’m bored with this life.”

“So you’ve decided to commit suicide by use of cigarettes.” She smiled at me. “Welcome to society little one.” She quickly passed the cigarette to me.

“Now what?” I asked a little confused.

She laughed again. “Eat it. What do you think?”

“I need a liter.” She gave me a liter and began to walk away. She turned around five feet away from me.

“I started smoking when I was ten. When it was still dangerous, illegal to a mere kid. There was a rebellion in my smoking. What away to rebel, Belle. Belle the Rebel, smoking at the legal age of eighteen.”

With that she was gone. The halls were flustering with activity this morning and I felt out of place with a cigarette and a liter in my hand, so I shoved both in my pocket and headed to class. Half way there I decided to live real dangerous. And I don’t mean a fifth meal kind of dangerous either. I was going to cut class. For the first time in thirteen years I was going to miss a class. God I was pathetic.

I lit the cigarette in the bathroom, and puffed for the first time. Never had I experienced an event so tragic. I coughed for a full minute and tossed the cigarette in the toilet. I was in the process of the flushing the toilet when I heard the familiar voice of Mr. Smith from behind me.

“What exactly are you doing, young lady?”

I turned around to greet the principal. I came to two conclusions staring into the black principal’s dark eyes. One was smart people were not made to rebel. And two, Mr. Smith was pissed off. So I did accomplish something. I just wasn’t ready for any kind of kuşadası escort punishment.

“Smoking, you,” he said back at his office. He was six foot three and physically imposing. “What the hell happened. You normally one of our best. You never get in any trouble.”

“That’s the problem,” I admitted in the midst of tears. “I’m perfect. Nobody ever thinks anything rotten about me.”

“Nobody’s perfect young lady. And right now I’m thinking some pretty rotten things about you. Do you know smoking in the bathroom is a one week suspension.”

I shook my head.

“Of course not. Your record is clear. And it will remain so. I’m giving you a second chance and you will only miss one day of school to think about your new rebellious lifestyle. But I am calling your father.”

I gulped real loud. I was scared and happy all at the same time. I couldn’t believe my luck. It had always been there for me, to drive me lower. I did not even get in any trouble. I would hear it from my father, but still, that was nothing. Walking home later that day, I knew I had to do something. Belle the Rebel would strike harder and get in some real trouble. Whether it scared the life out of me or not.

I got a three hour lecture about how cigarettes could kill me when my father came home. He told me about every chemical and every stat there was to know about. He got all of his information off the Internet and read to me off the papers he printed. He lied them on the bed next to me when he was done and told me to read through them if I didn’t believe him.

“Don’t think you’re sitting in the house all day tomorrow either,” he told me. “I got you a baby- sitting job. You’re watching the Abbott baby in the morning, so get plenty of rest.”

Being the sport my father raised me to be, I did not object to a single word he said. I was going to listen to him, and do something real naughty behind his back. Revenge was a dish best served when your father didn’t no about it, at least that was the way I felt.

I got up at six in the morning without the help of the alarm clock or my father nerve bending, angry in the morning voice. I took a shower and stared at myself in the mirror. Closely examining my nice firm breasts and my perfect tanned skin. My eyes were baby blue and gorgeous and my teeth were naturally white. My hair was blonde and hung down to my bony ass. I gently caressed my naked body with my hands, letting roam down to my vagina and my ass. I felt disgusted touching my blonde pubic hairs. They felt nasty to me. So I did the first unthinkable of May 17th. I shaved my pussy. And I was thinking nasty.

At the Abbott household I waited and watched Mr. and Mrs. Abbott fumble into each other repeatedly as they made their ways off to work. My freshly shaved vagina felt good underneath my tight black jeans and silk panties. I felt like a new woman. That’s when I first realized I was a woman. Let freedom ring. Belle the Rebel. A girl I was no longer. Quoth the Rebel, “Nevermore!”

I watched the Abbott smelly little one year old, Jimmy for eight long hours. I changed his diaper, gave him milk, fed the little bastard, then he had the nerve to spit the Fruity Pebbles all over my shirt. I never wanted kids. Yuck. At one in the afternoon I put him to sleep. I couldn’t believe I had watched every PBS kid show there was to watch. If God was punishing me for smoking, then kocaeli escort he had my full attention. Smoking I will easily give up, just as long as I never have to watch that stupid yellow bird and that damn animated aardvark ever again. Bless you Lord.

At two Mr. Abbott came home. This surprised me because he wasn’t due back until six. If he was home early I lose out on four hours of pay.

“Watchya doin home so early?” I asked cautiously.

“Go out earlier than I thought,” he said. He looked a little under the weather. Nervous, even.

“Baby’s sleeping.”

“Good. Well, here’s your money. I’ll pay you for the last four hours too. It’s all there. One hundred smackers.” He laughed at himself. He was talking fast. No, he was talking while staring at me. He was looking at my breasts. I was a little flattered. I was little embarassed.

“Thank you mista Abbott,” I said. I turned away from him and walked in the kitchen. I went to the sink for a glass of water. I watched from the corner of my eye to see if he was checking out my ass. He was.

I must have stopped paying attention after a while because the next thing I knew, I was feeling his hands on my waist.

I jumped and turned around quickly. I was so damn startled I thought I was having a heart attack.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Listen, I just go some extra money, my boss gave me it for something I did for him, and I don’t want the wife to know about it. I want to spend it quickly.” He was talking real nervously. “I want to give it to you under one condition.”

I smiled, holding the cup in my hand. “How much you have?”

“Three hundred for you.”

“For what?” I asked.

“I have to fuck your teenie pussy.” The words came out so fast I barely understood him.

For a long time I thought about it, but what it came down to was the revenge. Daddy, your screwed now. Correction, I’m screwed.

“Okay,” I said. My voice was shakier than his.

I blushed when he pulled his half erect cock out of his business pants. I got on my knees behind the sink and looked up into his eyes while he wagged his cock in my pretty little face.

I licked shaft side to side until he was fully erect. His cock was about seven inches. I kissed the head of his cock before I slowly worked into my small mouth. When I got half his cock into my mouth I began moving head back and forth. I did all this without using my hands. After sucking his cock with no hands, like an old bike trick, look no hands, ha, ha, he took hold of the back my head and fucked my mouth for a good three minutes. His hard cock was pumping to the back of my throat, slapping my tonsils like a disobedient whore. My lips were slightly burning from the friction, my lips were wrapped around his shaft pretty tight.

When he pulled out he slapped my face with his drooled cock. He giggled at the sight of his pre-cum and my face locking together.

“Take off them jeans,” he told me.

So I took them off. “Our you going to fuck me now you cool bastard,” I teased him. I was acting like a real bad girl. Belle the Rebel in full force. I had an extra meal daddy. I smoked a cigarette in the bathroom daddy. I gave the neighbor a blow job in his kitchen then he fucked my mouth, what do you think of that, daddy? “Fuck me good you mista. Fuck me like I’ve never been fucked before.” I pulled off my panties. “It shouldn’t be to hard, I am a virgin.”

The konya escort words were music to Mr. Abbott’s ears. He tore off his pants and his underwear and came to me very quickly. He kissed my lips, my breasts, my nipples, my belly, then he was down my shaved vagina. When he kissed it I felt a small shock, when his began swirling around down there, I had the biggest damn shock ever. I was shivering like a fucking vibrator, screaming like a sexually fustrated wife after find her husband fucking the mailman. I was out of control. Counting my orgasms was harder math than any Algebra I remembered. I was cumming everywhere and Mr. Abbott was sucking it all up.

Next his cock found my virgin. He lifted my legs high in the air and spread. My right foot was so high it was touching the edge of the sink.

“Fuck me Mista Abbott.” I was out of control. So, I liked this time.

He slowly plunged his cock into my pussy. He was moving slow for the first two minutes, then as my pussy gave in to his cock, he sped along. His strong hands were gripping my ankles in a hard lock. He was thrusting in and out like a mad man.

He called me his “naughty lolita.”

I called him “my old prick.”

He fucked me with his tuxedo on. His tie was moving back and forth the same way my breasts were and I thought it was funny. I licked my lips and fingered my pussy while he fucked me. I moaned and screamed for him. I came on his floor and covered his cock.

“Fuck me you old prick,” I called.

Like all stories this one has a conclusion. His forehead was dripping sweat. He pounded my pussy like I never thought he could. He told he hadn’t fucked in three years. He told me his wife never gave him a blow job. He told me he was going to cum. I thought about the baby upstairs.

“Being a virgin I’m not on birth control,” I warned him. “You’re going to half to take that thing else where.”

He laughed. “I have just the place. Close your eyes. I see this in pornos all the time. It’s where they dump it.” He pulled out of my pussy and already I wanted his cock. My eyes were shut and felt unwelcome to this world of darkness.

I heard him panting and raving above. “OH, OH, God, OH God…” He moaned loud. “Here it, here it, OOOOOOOOH, I’m Cummmmming.” His words were thrown off by a powerful passion.

The next thing I remember was feeling hot globs of liquid hitting my faces. There must have been fourteen or fifteen hits in a span of thirty seconds. I thought it was snowing. Hot snow. A word feeling. I realized he had cum on my face seconds later. His cum smeared my face from my forehead to my chin. I felt his cock in my mouth seconds later, I sucked him dry and got a small sample of cum.

When he was done he helped me up. He said he was not going to kiss me under the circumstances. Cum was dripping off my chin and on my nipples. In a small mirror I saw what was left of my face and almost fainted. Thick layers of cum had took away my facial features. My eyes were the only parts not covered. There were a few thick strands of cum in my hair, along my ear lobes, the stuff was everywhere.

“Sorry about that,” he said. “I haven’t came in long time either.” He tossed my towel. “Money is on the table. Get dressed and please go before I get in trouble.”

“You got it, mista,” I said through my cummy face and then wiped my face back to normal.

“I am Rebel,” I told myself going home. A rebel with the a new cause.

I want more good fucking. Belle the Rebel was on the fast track to becoming a new woman.

What do you think of that daddy? Silver Belle lost her virginity and received a face covering facial that blew her mind.

Quoth the Rebel, “Gimme more.”

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

The Great Kings of Persia

“A phrase keeps going through my mind: The Great Kings of Persia.”

“What is it? Is it a story? A poem?”

“It’s nothing,” she said. “Nothing at all. Just a phrase. A title.”

“Storm drift. Something. It could be something,” said Dash. “That’s how ideas work. That’s how inspiration works, right? Something out of the blue. Unconnected, arbitrary. Unrooted.”

“I get it,” she said.

“Serendipitous.”

“I said, I get it,” she whispered. Her head lay on his chest. From there she could see out the room’s only window and its slatted blind, and through it the branches of an unruly lilac drooping with its pendulous white clusters, against the background of an old, gnarled, grasping black cherry. The tree’s trunk forked into two almost symmetrical branches, like arms raised to the spring sky: a supplicant.

She thought about the day before when her own arms were similarly splayed, pinned to the bed, her wrists gripped hard in the strong hands of the dark young boy from the market who delivered her groceries. He held her outstretched arms fast as he fucked her. He was broad and beautifully muscled in the arms, shoulders, and chest. His skin reminded her of chocolate. She considered his large, handsome face as it loomed above her, his white teeth a pearlescent inlay in a darkish mask. His eyes were closed as he pounded his thick, hard cock in and out of her. She grunted from the force of his thrusts; they were purposeful and urgent. She told him to feed it to her. Only then did he release her arms to move up to straddle her chest and push his glistening dark member between her lips.

He said his name was Rez. She’d only finally asked him what it was after he’d come in her mouth. The volume seemed generous and potently thick but she swallowed it effortlessly though her throat burned slightly afterward. Rez dismounted her and lay down to catch his breath. She saw the thick artery in his neck twitching rapidly, his heart still pounding. She liked the idea of a heart pounding like that for her; she would have touched herself to bring herself to orgasm, but she knew she didn’t have much time with him now.

She left the bed to take up her sketch book and a charcoal stick, and sat in the straight-back chair near the window to draw Rez. She first sketched him as he lay. She worked in quick, broad strokes, framing out the figure. Flat on his back, he looked like a body on a morgue slab.

She flipped to a new sheet. She told him to sit up against the headboard and bend one leg at the knee. No, the other leg. Thanks.

The low natural light of her bedroom and his brown skin made Rez’s body a collection of dark, gradient shapes, adjoining and overlapping.

She flipped to a new sheet. She told him to look away from her, toward her dressing table. His neck was also thick and strong, corded. She stared at his large hand, topographical with veins, resting atop his bare thigh.

She sketched parts disconnected, vignettes: his turned head and neck, his veiny hand, the dark mass of hair and flesh between his legs.

The Great Kings of Persia. It wasn’t at all serendipitous.

Mornings

The mornings were for writing and drawing. Both activities required a stillness and concentration, and concentration like that required some amount of rigor and stamina. Writing and drawing were stimulating and enjoyable until they weren’t. She never tried to write or draw beyond the lunch hour, even if she wasn’t feeling fatigued from it, even if she thought she could continue. If she worked at those things until she reached the point of fatigue, then it spoiled the satisfaction she got from it. She would feel sour, wrung out, and displeased with what she had done, even if some of the work was good.

Her Hair

It was black, and very thick, very dense, a little coarse, and somewhat unruly. Dash was always brushing it away from her face when they were having sex, combing it back with his fingers. But he wouldn’t let her put it in a tie. Or, that is, he asked her not to. He said he liked the way it fell about her face when she sucked him off, and he would brush it back, brush it back, over and over, while she stroked him and licked him and softly sucked his cockhead.

She knew he was about to come when his hands went still, when he stopped fiddling with her hair.

Afternoons

She painted in the afternoons, after she had drawn as much from the well of the morning as she could. This was also concentration, but a dissimilar kind: more liberating, sensual, and tactile in a way that was different from drawing or writing.

With the money from the Biennale and a show at the Lisson Gallery in Manhattan, she bought a 3,000-square foot semi-ranch in a bucolic borough in the hills above the river, still close enough to the city that she had views of it if she climbed up on her roof, which she’d done a couple times before the accident. Then, with the money from the accident, she’d built a large shed-cum-studio on the property’s fenced-in north lawn; more like a detached kahramanmaraş escort two-car garage with skylights and sliding barn doors. That’s where she painted and worked with whatever other media happened to engage her.

The front of the studio had a southern exposure. When the weather was warm, like now, she could leave the two big sliding doors open while she worked. She worked in the same dirty canvas sneakers and well-worn painter’s bib overalls that she’d been using for years, sometimes with a t-shirt underneath and sometimes not, depending on the temperature. No one could really see that part of her property without coming all the way down the drive to the end of the driveway.

Painting was stimulating; it always had been, it never changed. She couldn’t remember if the creative act had stoked her physical desire, or if desire had led her to the canvas. But it didn’t matter anymore, it was all of a piece. The movement, the adrenaline, the tactility.

Sometimes if Dash could get free he would stop by in the afternoon when she was painting and fuck her. She never found it to be an interruption. She welcomed it. Painting always put her in a state of arousal, like a low-grade fever, and the moment she saw him coming down the drive, her need seemed to suddenly spike and all she could think about was having his cock inside of her.

Most times, now that this had become a thing, they often didn’t say anything to each other. She knew why he was stopping by and he knew why she wanted him to stop. She would unhook the bib of her coveralls, undo the buttons at the hips, let them drop to the floor, and bend over the long work table against the shed’s western wall while he undid his pants. She didn’t need any foreplay, she’d already be wet. She would pull her panties aside with one hand and grab the vise bolted to the table with the other, and Dash would fuck her.

He would fuck her so hard that the heavy table shook and the pegboard of tools on the wall above it rattled. He would fuck her so hard her knees would start to weaken and only her tiny waist in his rough grasp would keep her from sinking to the concrete floor. Sometimes she told him to come in her cunt. Sometimes she told him to shoot his load all over her ass, or up her back. He would fuck her so hard that sometimes she couldn’t rise from the table for several minutes after because he would be pinning her there, slumped over her back, winded, spent. She would hand him a rag—a remnant of an old cotton t-shirt, decorated with paint splotches and fragrant with linseed oil—and he would mop up the ropes and dollops of cum on her ass. And then, solicitously, he would pull her overalls back up for her, because it was still difficult for her sometimes to squat and do it herself.

Some Afternoons

On occasion, when Dash hadn’t stopped by for several afternoons and she felt fairly certain that she would see him on a particular day, she would engage in some small preparation before heading out to the studio. On those days, bent over the work table, she would look back at him over her shoulder, through her thick mass of unruly hair, and tell him to fuck her in the ass.

She was thirty-five and had slept with a lot of men, but Dash was the only one she had ever let fuck her ass. She had fantasized about it when masturbating, and used her toys on it many times. Something about Dash, though. They were both aggressive people, and the sex between them could be raw, but beneath that she felt his solicitude of her. It was there long before she ever fucked him, which was why she fucked him.

After Dash fucked her ass for the first time, he hadn’t believed her when she told him she’d never let anyone fuck her there before. It had all been so… unfraught with any kind of fear or trepidation.

But it was true. It had gone that way because she wanted it, and wanted it from him. It was slick and lustful and long anticipated by her, and the uncommon sensation of his cum pumping into her ass prompted an orgasm that was itself unlike the kind she normally experienced.

And now she couldn’t imagine ever letting anyone else fuck her ass. Though she knew that someday someone else probably would. Dash wouldn’t be around forever.

Mornings II

Up at 6:30. After she acquitted herself, peed, washed her face, and tried to brush some sense into her thick, black bedhead, she boiled water for tea and immediately sat down at her desk to draw or write. No television, no radio, no phone or Internet. She didn’t want to read anything. She was scrupulous about avoiding the world’s disruptive noise before she managed get to pen to paper. Even tiny, useful bits, like the weather forecast, required some effort to clear from her mind. She usually sat down to work at her desk in the same t-shirt and panties she’d slept in, her good leg tucked up beneath her on the chair.

The morning that the boy Rez came by with her box of groceries, she’d forgotten she’d placed the order the night before. She was in her kitchen brewing a fresh kastamonu escort pot of tea when the doorbell rang. She was going to ignore it, but then she remembered.

Normally she would have taken the box at the door, but the boy was so handsome and dark that she asked him to come in and take the box to her kitchen. He hesitated; she wondered if perhaps he wasn’t allowed to go into a customer’s house, but maybe did it anyway when he saw her leg. She’d had her right leg amputated below the knee after the accident, and so these days wore a transtibial prosthesis. She was usually fine carrying heavy or bulky things, though it was something she had to learn how to do after the accident. Callie, her visiting therapist, had taught her that.

The boy followed her. Her t-shirt barely covered her ass. She pulled the back of it down past her bottom as she led him into the kitchen. Not of out modesty but just the opposite: she wanted to make sure he was looking at it.

The boy had thick, black hair, like she did, but unlike hers, his was fine, smooth, glossy, and brushed straight back. It was luxurious and wet-looking. She would later dwell on the image of a thick, lustrous forelock of his hair falling across his brow as he loomed over her small, slender body, fucking her: the dark skin of his face satiny like sweated chocolate.

While she was sketching him in her bedroom that morning, Rez asked her about her nationality. She told him that she was half Japanese. She knew that was the half he was interested in because of her features—what an old lover had once described as watered-down Asian. She didn’t tell him the other half.

The boy placed the box of groceries on the kitchen island. There was a bone-white porcelain teapot on a hot pad. There was a slender cylindrical vase, also bone-white, with fresh asters she’d clipped from the beds along her back deck—deep purple puffs atop pale green stalks. The boy didn’t know where to look. Or, rather, he was embarrassed to fix his eyes where’d he prefer: her bra-less breasts beneath the white t-shirt; her good leg, smooth and slender and bare almost to her groin; her artificial limb, with its hard plastic socket and nylon sleeve, gleaming aluminum pylon, and small rubberized foot. He finally settled on her face.

She asked him how old he was. He told her he was twenty, in college studying engineering, working part-time until finals were done and he could start a summer internship.

“I want to give you a tip,” she said. “My purse is in the other room.”

He followed her out as far as the entryway and stopped to wait there. She smiled and shook her head.

“No,” she told him. “You should come back here.”

Jouissance

She never felt any regret or unhappiness or depression in the aftermath of the accident. The majority of the numerous possible other outcomes, starting with death at the very top of the scale and descending through a series of lesser horrors, made her loss not only endurable but something of a relief. Actually, death wasn’t the worst possible calamity, when she thought about it.

Recovering, she felt herself suffuse with a powerful but indistinct hunger, a longing that often spiked into spells of sudden voraciousness. It seemed intertwined somehow with the pain. It came and went, it seemed—the pain, that is—uncontrollably and without pattern. And when it came, her impulse wasn’t to numb it (she had a small device that allowed her to self-administer morphine), but to complement it. Grimacing against it, twisting up her hospital gown, she jammed both hands in her panties and masturbated furiously, the pads of her fingertips rubbing rapidly at her clit like she was trying to rub out a smudge from a pane of glass, and the two fingers of her other hand pumping in and out of her pussy. She orgasmed but continued, trying to make herself come again as quickly as possible, no pausing, like an onslaught, a self-assault, trying to feel a pleasure that was as nearly unendurable as the pain sluicing through her. The pain itself contributed: it was the tips of a whip, a slap, a nipple between clenching teeth, two cocks too big for her petite cunt and tight ass but pressing forth nonetheless. She came again, her body cold with sweat, and continued.

Her mother and father drove in from Philadelphia. Her younger brother flew in from Boston. Her younger sister—the middle of the three siblings—was in Japan for several months for her job, but flew back, bringing their 90-year-old grandmother from Tokyo, as soon as she heard about the accident. They all stayed at the house she’d only recently bought. They all visited her every day. Her sister asked her what she needed from home.

“Do you want to sketch? Do you want me to bring your book, some tools?” Regina asked. The second daughter got an Italian name as the result of parental compromise, even though she turned out to look more distinctly Asian than her older sister.

“No,” she said. “I don’t want to draw. In my nightstand, get the Pocket Rocket.”

“Are kayseri escort you serious?” Regina whispered.

“Desperately,” she said.

“Um… okay. I’ll bring it tomorrow.”

“No,” she said. “Today. I need it today.”

“Okay, well… I’ll get it today. Anything else?”

“Extra batteries,” she said.

Graphomania

As she began her rehabilitation, she developed a graphomania compulsion.

Since it would be a number of months before she could stand and work at an easel for any length of time, she instead began with pencil studies in her sketchbook. This was nothing new to her. Everything that ended up on canvas began with sketches.

What was new to her, during that time, was the anxiety she suddenly felt the first time she contemplated the blank sheet. The absence it represented was yawning, vast. She needed to do something, anything, to fill it.

The work began as a series of delicately rendered glyphs, densely collected, starting in the center of the page and expanding concentrically. She first worked in graphite, then switched to pen and ink. She wasn’t sure why she was doing it. It seemed to flow from her unconscious. The repetition of the shape she was drawing, the nearly obsessive compulsion to keep repeating it, assumed a transcendental aspect. As the adjoining and overlapping shapes expanded into a larger patterned shape of its own, she almost felt like she was absorbed into the work in progress, into the its two-dimensionality.

Not the shapes but the act of making the shapes was the theme: repeated obsessively until the entire page was covered to its edges. It was meticulous, close-in work. And, again, a fully tactile engagement, an analog pleasure. Despite this world, this life of vast, digital, immersive ghostliness, the only real pleasures were analog pleasures.

And, she realized, she was also erasing a great absence.

Joiussance II

She was in the hospital for ten days. She slept a lot during the day when her family members visited. Part of her fatigue was the result of her body’s healing, but part was also because she spent a good portion of her nights—the only time she was mostly alone in her room—masturbating against tides of pain. Her pain dissipated into something less chronic, and with it the need for complementary stimulation lessened, but not her desire for it. By the fifth night, her Pocket Rocket was losing its efficacy. She needed more than just orgasms at her own hand, so she looked to one of her night nurses for relief, a forty-something man with a slight paunch and trim ginger beard.

He was not unhandsome: average looking, but neat and kind. He wore a plain gold wedding band. He came in, as he did every few hours, to check on her and take her blood pressure and vitals, and when he asked her how she was doing, she told him what she wanted.

If he was surprised, he was good at concealing it. He maintained his patient, kind nurse’s tone as he fixed her in the blood pressure sleeve. She swung her arm so her fingers could find the crotch of his scrubs, and he gently placed it back on the bed.

She pushed aside the bed sheet and pulled up her hospital gown.

“I’m really wet,” she said. “I’m ready. Touch it. You’ll see.”

“I can’t do that, Sweetheart, you know that,” he said, his eyes flicking over her exposed groin, lightly shaded with emerging growth since she hadn’t been able to shave down there since the accident.

“Please,” she whispered. “I just need your hard cock in me. Just fuck me until you come.”

His unfastening of her blood pressure cuff crackled like driveway fireworks.

“I’m just going to raise this up a little bit,” he said and adjusted her bed so she was more upright. She sat up and he carefully drew the front of her gown to partially expose her chest. She inhaled sharply, expectantly, but he only warmed the chestpiece of his stethoscope against his palm to listen to her heart and breathing. He eased her forward to listen to her back and she tugged the gown down past her breasts.

He didn’t adjust it. Her breasts were full and round and tipped with small, dark nipples. He eased her back against the bed to listen to her heart. She closed her eyes and put a hand between her legs, began touching herself.

“Your BP is higher than normal and so is your heart rate,” he put a hand on her forearm. “You need to take some deep breaths for me and try to relax now.” His tone was patient and his voice was soft.

“I told you what I need,” she breathed.

The nurse began fixing the front of her gown to cover her breasts and, in the process, discreetly pressed her infusion pump to administer a dose of analgesic. Almost immediately the sharpened edges of her pain and lust began to soften. She sighed. Her hand stilled. She let him finish adjusting her gown. He laid a cool hand on her forehead and told her to try to get some rest.

She slept briefly, and when she woke a couple of hours later, moaning softly from freshly encroaching pain and desire, her nurse was standing next to her bed, only half-seen in the weak light of monitor screens and the illuminated outdoor hospital grounds that glowed past her partially curtained windows. He was staring at her, and brushing a thick, dark tangle of hair from her face. She turned her head toward him and, as before, pulled down the front of her hospital johnnie.

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Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
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It was around 5pm on my midweek day off, and I was sitting by myself in a three quarters full cinema. Just before the film was about to start two women came shuffling, as you do in a cinema, down the row, they squeezed passed my knees, took their coats off and sat down with the second one in the seat next to me.

I can’t remember what the film was but it wasn’t anything unusual or erotic, 50 shadesish for instance, so I have no idea why what followed occurred.

Anyway, about 20 minutes into the film my knee accidentally touched the denim clad knee of the woman sitting next to me. I instantly moved the offending knee and mumbled an apology not receiving any response from her.

Some 5 minutes later I felt her shift in her seat and this time her knee briefly touched mine before coming to rest with just millimetres between them. At first sight it seemed a totally innocent event but, being a man, I felt that there was more to it than that: her lack of response to my knee touching hers and now that she had moved her knee to within a fraction of mine, almost as if she was now inviting a response from me.

What to do what to do?? Nothing, and miss an invitation to more. Or press the point and risk a smack in the mouth, maybe even a cinema manager dragging me out and accusing me of being a raving sex case. My raving sex case mind eyed the fire exit as I thought it through.

Maybe there was a middling approach, maybe I could keep raving in check and just go with sex case.

I very carefully touched my knee to hers and left it there. And to my very pleased relief she didn’t move and that, to my raving sex case mind, yes, raving was back, was an invitation.

In order to test the invitation I gently increased the pressure, she pressed back. Invitation accepted.

Very slowly, so as not to attract the attention of her companion, I pushed the separating armrest up out of the way.

Resting my hand on my thigh I began to brush my little finger up and down the side of her leg, she still didn’t move although I was sure she took a deep breath.

After a few minutes of this I took a chance and moved my whole hand over to rest it on the top of her thigh. This time she did move, she uncrossed her legs and casually draped her coat over both legs covering my hand from any casual glance.

And then I started to stroke her leg, slow circles along the firm muscle of the top of her thigh and then over the soft skin of her inner thighs, fingertips on one leg back of my hand on the other.

And all this time: from my brief look at her outline as she’d shuffled passed, her smell and warmth as she’d sat beside me, the feel of her waist against the back of my arm, the underside of her boob on my forearm and her thighs against my hand, my mind was forming an impression of her. She was around 5′ 9″, not skinny or even slim but not too overweight either; she certainly filled her jeans but even with the limited room that she had she could part her legs, she had a waist and she had boobs: good sized boobs hatay escort I would say, but not huge. Beyond that it was pretty much a guessing game, I had no idea how old she was or what she looked like.

And, as shallow as it may seem and certainly for now, I didn’t really need to know any more.

Except that, from the growing heat I was beginning to feel against the edge of my hand, I knew that she wanted what I was doing and she liked it. And so, with a slight move of my arm, I began to rub that hand edge against the source of the heat. My hand now jammed between her thighs meat of it rubbing up and down against her pussy, I could feel her bum clenching and unclenching, her pussy rhythmically pushing back against my hand.

I wanted to change my position, do more with my hand, but her thighs were now gripping me tight, her clenching bum pushing her body hard against me. Her breathing was fast and shallow, her chin was down on her chest and the arm not covering mine had come through and was gripping my forearm but otherwise she was doing a pretty good job of controlling herself, as far as alerting her friend that is, and probably everybody else in the cinema.

Below the waist was a different matter: her legs and bum really started to quiver, her thighs squeezed my hand and the grip on my arm hardened, she was holding her breath and I felt rather than heard a groan rumble through her chest.

A moment later I heard her friend whispering something and she managed to whisper something back, can’t imagine what. Her friend saying something had clearly broken the spell and pretty quickly she relaxed and eased the pressure on my hand, I slid it out from between her very hot thighs and just let it rest back on the top of her leg, she actually kept hold of my arm for the rest of the film. Nothing more happened and, as the film ended and the lights came back on, they both immediately stood, and shuffled passed heading out.

Not wanting to embarrass her I waited a couple of minutes before slowly walking out.

To my surprise, as I walked back into the foyer, a woman I immediately recognised as my accomplice stepped from the side, glanced nervously around, handed me a slip of paper then dashed off.

I stood still, a little shocked, and watched her go. I hadn’t expected that. Not bad though: nice bum, long legs, as tall as me, short dark hair, pretty, early 40s so around 20 years younger than me, wonder what she thought when she saw me, can’t have been too upset or she wouldn’t have approached me. I remembered the slip of paper, looking down I realised it was her cinema ticket with something now written on it in very small writing. A phone number and the words ‘text me later.’.

All the way home I thought over the events of the afternoon and tried to think what to text.

Some time in the evening I figured that it was later enough, picked up my phone entered her number and typed “Hand from the cinema.”

Five minutes later she replied, “:-) you free ığdır escort tomorrow at 1pm?”

“Sure am.”

“Can we meet at Barslow Country Park east car park?”

Very specific, “I can if you can.”

“Great, I’ll be driving a blue Audi A3. You?”

“A grey Hyundai Santa Fe.”

“See you then.”

“‘Look forward to it.”.

And that was that, I sat back and thought about the whole exchange; no names, no comment about what had happened in the cinema and nothing personal from her other than the smiley face. Just straight into the arrangements for tomorrow’s meeting; clearly she’d already thought through what she wanted to say should I get in touch. Think I’ll be a little bit cautious tomorrow.

The next day had dawned wet and gray and I’d had a pessimistic couple of hours: half expected a text calling it off and then, when that didn’t happen, expecting her not to show. But, when I pulled into the rain swept car park ten minutes before one and glanced around, I immediately saw a blue Audi A3 at the far end parked against the fence.

Pulling up beside her I looked across, she was looking back at me with a lopsided smile on her face, I smiled back. As I switched off my engine she got out of her car, stepped through the rain to my passenger door and took hold of the handle. I pressed the unlock switch, she opened the door and got in.

Sitting back against the door she looked at me without speaking, red lipstick, green eyes and damp hair. Her eyes flicked down meaningfully to my hand and I pressed the switch again, the doors clunked locking us in and everybody else out.

Her eyes moved back up to my face and we sat looking at each other, a minute passed, then two. The tip of her tongue appeared, she licked her lips then bit her bottom lip, a slight frown appeared on her forehead, another moment of thought, then she leant forward and unbuckled my belt, flicked the button open before tugging the zip down. She then started to pull at the heavy material, her determination against the awkward angle and my weight just wasn’t going to do it so I lifted my bum and her determination won. My jeans came down, dragging my boxers with them, all the way to my knees.

Up until that point I hadn’t been particularly turned on: don’t know why, it just hadn’t seemed an erotic situation, I remember thinking to my cock ‘please do something!’. But then she paused and, after her moment of ‘let’s get on with it!’, went all shy and tentative and slowly moved my t-shirt and that was it, he came out to have a look, ridiculously I almost felt proud at how much he came out to have a look. In a heartbeat he went from cowering in a corner wondering what the hell was going on to standing tall and strong shouting ‘here I am!’. And her face showed due appreciation.

And any shyness disappeared, she rubbed the head of my cock with her fingertips, brushed her fingers up and down the length, wrapped her hand around the thickness and began stroking. Then she shuffled up a little in ısparta escort her seat and her head came level with my lap, I felt her breath on my skin, her tongue swipe across the very tip, then the warm wet enveloping sensation as her mouth slid down, took as much of my shaft in as she could then stopped. She pressed a little further, felt her gag a little and stop. Rise slowly back up until just my cock head is left in her mouth, lips sealed around the base.

Could feel her tongue moving, feel her sucking at the tip, creating saliva and swirling that around my cock. Her head started to move, rising and falling, just a little at first: each dip taking more of my shaft until each plunge engulfed my entire cock.

What an exquisite feeling it was: her mouth gliding up and down my now very very hard cock. Sometimes all the way other times just concentrating on the glans. Sometimes her teeth raked up and down other times her soft lips. Sometimes she’d use just her hands other times both her hands and mouth. And, in my considered, although at that particular moment rather biased, opinion she was very good at doing what she was doing. She really was particularly good with her mouth, lovely and swishy.

Time passed, it always takes me quite a while with blow jobs, not that she seemed to mind, she did seem to be enjoying her work! And I very much enjoyed her enjoying her work.

She really did have a lovely swishy style, and she certainly knew how to bob, she also seemed to know when I was approaching the point of no return, she’d slow down and just concentrate around the head, she liked to push the tip of her tongue into the hole and trace around my glans. And once I’d subsided she’d go back to her swishing.

After a few of times bringing me to the edge, backing off and bringing me on again she was obviously either getting tired, she knew I had just about reached my limit or she really just wanted to move onto the next stage, whichever reason it was made no difference to me, the end product was going to be the same.

And so, after one particular close call she didn’t back off, she kept going, if anything she picked up the pace.

And the inevitable happened. I exploded and she turned into a cum sucking vampire, she didn’t waste a drop, she sucked me dry. She really, really enjoyed her work.

Once she realised that she just wasn’t going to get anymore out of me she, almost reluctantly, sat up. Once more leaning back against the door she looked at me, now with a real gleam in her green eyes, that lopsided smile back on her face. But she didn’t hang around, she’d had her fill, had what she came for, and it was clearly time to leave.

In a repeat of when she’d got into the car her eyes flicked down meaningfully to the door handle and the central locking switch. In a little bit of a daze I fumbled for a second with the wrong switch before unlocking the doors. She got out and got back into her own car. A minute later I heard it’s engine start. She then looked across at me and once again grinned, raised her mobile phone into view, tapped herself on the chest with it and then pointed it at me. She then reversed out and drove away.

It took me a minute or two to get my senses together.

And then I realised that my jeans and boxers are still around my knees.

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

Jeff thought for a bit then said, “Only two more, then I quit. After all, I am driving.” He and his friends had been drinking at the Rushmore Club in Thogoto since early evening. He felt slightly tipsy, but was not drunk. It took hard drinking of very strong alcohol to get him drunk. In fact, his friends could not remember him in that state. Nevertheless it was now true that if he was pulled up by traffic police he would test high above the permitted levels.

They cleared all their bills and filed out. Tonight he was driving the Mercedes 350 SLC. The others went each to their cars. That was the last they saw him alive. On the bypass the car suddenly went into a spin, rolled on the tarmac, then skidded down the slight slope on its roof, crushing it and the occupant. Jeff died of massive head injuries even before the first car came along on that lonely stretch. To make matters worse it was almost 2am.

There were three men and a woman in that car. They fought to extricate the lone man from the wreck, but found he was already dead. While the men had been battling to prise the metal apart, the woman had been calling police and ambulance services. As if they were on standby for just such an event they arrived within twelve minutes. The body was removed to the mortuary after identification. The good samaritans were shocked to learn he was the son of the governor of Kurd county.

The news hit the headlines from six am sending shock waves throughout the nation’s eight counties, but most of all Kurd. Messages of condolences poured in to the radio and TV stations, for the Governor was popular even outside his home county, having served in several capacities in the National Government before running for the gubernatorial seat.

The funeral was sure to draw huge crowds. The police department closed off many roads leading to the farm on which Jeff was to be laid to rest to allow for the procession led by the Archbishop of the Diocese.

Of all events Pamela would not imagine missing the funeral of her classmate, with whom she had shared a desk. She knew all of Jeff’s siblings since they had all attended the same school. As instructed by the police she parked at the Riverside Academy’s playing fields and had to walk to the graveside, along the closed road, into the gate of the homestead and round to the back where she could see the sharp tops of the canopies. She walked into the field with a few minutes to spare, so she went over to where the family were gathering. She paid her respects to the older siblings, finishing with Andrew the youngest. She was immediately struck by his striking similarity to her classmate Jeff. Andrew seemed to remember her best of all; after all he was younger and as usually happens, children take note of those ahead of them more than those in lower classes. In fact he drew her into a hug.

“Thank you so much, Pamela for your message of condolence, and for coming!” he said, sounding sincere. He patted her back familiarly.

She felt a warmth spread through her body. eskişehir escort “You guys were good friends back then. Too bad we scattered across the globe in search of education.”

“Now we are back. Make a point of seeing me when all this is over.”

“Sure. Let me find myself a seat before they are all taken.”

“This canopy has more seats than we can fill. Find a space somewhere in the middle,” pointing.

“Thank you,” as she spotted a row of unoccupied ones. On her way she looked over to where the Governor was seated with his wife, but it was clear the security would not allow her near there.

The service droned on in the fashion of older men, who seemed to like the sound of their own voices imagining that the rest of us shared in that self-absorption. Finally it was time to move to the graveside. Pamela saw Andrew looking behind him as the procession escorting the pall-bearers edged towards the freshly dug grave. She thought that as the religious men had said so much already that there would not be much to say. But no, speaker after political speaker was called forth. Her only consolation was that as soon as he could, Andrew came to where she was standing and they chatted softly, respectfully. He asked for her number by simply opening his phone book, starting a new entry and handing her the phone. Her heart leaped, this being one of her goals in showing up today: to find a way of reaching Andrew at a time when his emotions were heightened. She punched in her number and name, then handed the phone back. He had made her life so much easier by bringing himself into her orbit so willingly.

Finally it was over, the soil returned to the grave and garlands laid. Mourners were invited to some snacks in the field near where the service had been held. After choosing from the snacks offered, Pamela made use of the number she had just been given by sending a message of consolation to Andrew, while she nibbled. She had no idea when he would find time to read his messages.

She walked back to the school to retrieve her car, getting annoyed that her heels kept sinking into the soft, wet ground. She wondered why she hadn’t noticed as she was arriving. Perhaps I was slightly nervous, she told herself. Back in the school field, she got into her car, drove out and back onto the highway. In a little over an hour she was home.

In the evening she checked her WhatsApp messages more than once to see if Andrew had read her message. It made her heart race when she saw it was ‘blue-ticked’ but it fell again when she saw no response. No matter, she said to herself, the man is going through a lot. He will respond when he gets through this. To her great surprise a new message tone sounded in the middle of the night. She woke, rubbed her eyes of sleep and tried to focus them on the screen. There was the reply to her message, and just as if he was the one pursuing her, he gave her a date for the following week. He wanted her to come to dinner at the Sankara in Westlands. gaziantep escort If it was an honest-to-goodness seduction, this was where she would have pretended to be shocked, then hesitate as if she had no interest.

But she had placed herself in his crosshairs by attending Jeff’s funeral. So she indicated her acceptance by asking for further details.

“What time would suit you best, 7 o’clock or later?”

It seemed he was online at that precise moment. “Make it 6:45 for 7,” he confirmed. She wrote back accepting that time.

The days and hours seemed to drag over the rest of the week and over the weekend. After work on Saturday she was lost for what to do all afternoon and evening. Where she always had a destination and company for ‘nyama choma’ (roast meat) and drinks, that day she just pined for Andrew. She prevented herself calling him by main force. She merely had lunch at a quiet restaurant, dragging it to the longest it could possibly take. Then she decided to visit her aunt who lived all by herself, delighting the old lady with that surprise. That visit took her to dusk, and then she really had to home. There she killed time by watching movies from Netflix on her smart TV. Sunday afternoon, when she came home from church, went by like the previous evening. But if she tried to recall the story on any of those movies she came up empty-handed. In truth her mind was fixated on the upcoming dinner with Andrew.

Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday were taken up by work, taking her mind away from her need of Andrew. If he wanted to sleep with her, despite all she had been taught, and society’s heavy approval of sex, she felt that she would not be able to resist him. Why should she hold him back, if they were going to be in each other’s lives; they might as well get into each other’s pants! Her mother, if she discovered her daughter planning to let a man past her panties on the first date would call her all manner of names. So would every woman she had ever known. So would Andrew, if it came to that. She planned to educate him on the primitivism of prevailing attitudes.

Wednesday afternoon came, and her mind was a pulp. She could barely concentrate on the most basic task. She drove home, took a long bath, slipped on a long, figure-hugging dress, with a slit halfway up her right leg, and a low neckline. Andrew would be no proof against her wiles. She drove out of her gate at 6:30 aiming to be at the Sankara just before the agreed 6:45. She turned her car over to the valet and walked into the main doors, oozing seduction.

????????????????????????

“It was a system calculated to defraud women in sex,” she was telling him passionately. “Desire was, and still is, said to be the man’s sole right. The woman’s role is merely to decide whether to ‘give’ or not. That way, women were deluded into thinking that they had real power in bed, but that was only true in the early stages. As soon as she became a wife, her body belonged to her husband; she had giresun escort no real power to refuse him if he wanted sex. Neither does she possess the power to demand it from him. To a large extent it is still true in our day, only that sex has become highly stylised and shrouded in mystery. The biggest sponsor of this was, and still is, the Judeo-Christian tradition.”

Andrew was looking at her as if something that had been disturbing him for a long time had suddenly made sense. “So the modern man is doomed to spend lots of time, effort and money in pursuit of woman, yet it is all hypocrisy!”

“There should be no reason a woman or a man cannot tell the one he or she is attracted to that they are!”

“If a man tells a woman that he wants her, he is accused of taking her for a prostitute. If it was a woman, she is taken to be exactly that. So they indulge in a fancy dance whose ultimate aim is a vigorous time between the sheets, but it cannot be approached directly.” He was smiling at the thought as he said this.

“That’s exactly right. It has left women disenfranchised, unable to voice their desires to their men, having to wait until approached. Even then they have to pretend not to want that which they are most hungry for. Idiocy!”

“It makes you wonder how intelligent people can allow this scandal to continue!”

Having cleared that particular bush they could plough the land of their desires freely. Andrew did what he had dreamed of doing, but told himself he could not do it on a first date and still remain decent. He fondled her waist, occasionally straying to her hip. She looked into his eyes as if daring him to go beyond, as if they had reverted to former thinking. But he soon felt her fingers fumbling with his zip.

They turned slightly in their seats to allow this groping to get going properly. His hand explored her tummy fat, while keeping an eye out that other diners would not see or discover what was going on right in front of their noses. She did not open the zip but massaged his cock under the trousers. Soon the meal was over.

“Should we adjourn elsewhere?” he asked her.

“My place or yours?”

He said, “My place today. Next time we can use yours. I can hardly wait to give you what you deserve.”

They each got their cars brought to the front by the valet and he drove off, keeping her in his rear mirror. It was a short distance to Parklands Sports Club, where he booked a room.

“I thought you were taking me to your house?” she queried.

“I changed my mind as we drove out of the Sankara. I had not prepared myself for a guest so it is pretty messy. My cleaning woman does not come until tomorrow. If it was day after tomorrow we would have gone there.”

He took the key from a bemused-looking night porter, who kept taking covert glances at Pamela. They went along a never-ending corridor until he got to the door, opening with a slight bit of trouble as if he was unused to this side of his behaviour. Andrew was almost trembling with anticipation of delighting this woman who had removed the need to be hunted endlessly, while all the time she knew she was going to give in.

He was so impressed with the masterful way she had brought them to this threshold; their love was going to be deep, satisfying and last them their whole lives.

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

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

This story was written as part o an ongoing collaboration between myself and Sophie. She told me her fantasy and then I wrote the story below. We plan to continue to “share” fantasies this way in an ongoing series. Look for more installments.

* * * * *

Chapter I

You arrive at the doctor’s office a little out of breath. You had to hurry from work to make your 11:15 appointment. This persistent cough and now the rash on your legs and back is too annoying to let go any longer. Luckily your doctor is available for a same day sick visit. You like her a lot, other than the fact that she is always late. You walk into the clinic at exactly 11:16, perfectly timed. Luckily there isn’t a line to check in and they put you into a room within 10 minutes.

As you get into the room you take off your jacket. It’s part of a very tasteful two piece ensemble with a sport jacket and a one piece dress, all in a bright yet tasteful red. The room is a little warm and has the acrid, antiseptic smell that is just noxious. Plus, your annoyed at the mandatory urine for “testing” that they always ask when you come in. Why can’t they believe that you are not pregnant and take your word for it. You use condoms, birth control bills, and damnit haven’t been getting any in the last few weeks.

You hear a quick knock on the door and are shocked to see a man enter. He’s about 5’6″, black hair, dark skin, and appears of Indian descent. Dressed in black pants, electric blue shirt, and a gold tie he appears too young and well dressed to be a doctor. “Good morning Miss Callahan, I’m Dr. Patel” as he offers his hand to shake. He smiles pleasantly, his brown eyes never moving from yours. “Where’s Dr. Smith, I thought I was seeing her today?” you ask. “I apologize but Dr. Smith called in sick and I am covering her visits for her. I hope you don’t mind.” You shrug your shoulders, looking away. You really don’t like male doctors, but what else can you do? Rescheduling and taking time off work would be too much of a pain; waiting for a female doctor today might take a few hours. Might as well grin and bear it.

“So the nurses tell me you have a cough and a rash.” And so it starts. This is where the doctor starts reading the chart, ignoring what you say. As he sits down at the desk, you notice that the chart is still on the bed. He actually looks right at you, waiting for a response, politely smiling, never taking his eyes off of yours. “Actually, the cough started a week ago and is keeping me up at night, the rash started yesterday on my legs and spread to my back last night.” As the usual questions proceed, you take the time to “examine” the doctor. He can’t be more than 25 you think, maybe fresh out of residency. He has a thin body, looking as if he exercises by running rather than lifting weights. His skin is dark and very smooth, with jet-black hair. He is clean-shaven but now you notice a few gray hairs at the temples, maybe he’s older than you think? As you look towards his lap…

“Would you mind changing into a gown Miss Callahan?”

“What? Why?”, you ask. This is exactly why you hate seeing male doctors, the embarrassment of showing your body to them as they “clinically” examine you. “I’m sorry, but it is the only way I can listen to your lungs well and clearly examine your rash. Don’t worry, you can leave your underwear on and it will only be a moment. I’ll step out while you change and return in 5 minutes.” As he leaves the room he opens a cabinet and pulls out one of those annoying white, almost translucent hospital gowns that essentially covers nothing. Not only is this annoying because it’s a man, you are more concerned about the underwear you are wearing. You decided to be sexy under your conservative one-piece dress and wear a half cup bra, thong, and garter belt with nylons. And they are all completely sheer! What are you going to do? The only way to let the doctor examine you is to completely to remove the dress, but then he will see exactly what your wearing underneath. You decide to bite the bullet and remove the dress, hastily putting on the gown. You reach down to at least remove the garter when there is another knock on the door ;” Are you ready Miss Callahan?”

“One more second please.” You quickly tie the gown in the back, and glance in the mirror. You can clearly see the red underwear through the thin gown, but luckily your nipples are not showing through the half-cup bra. “Come in doctor.”

He walks into the room, this time at least with a stethoscope around his neck to identify himself as a physician. He starts with the usual, shinning a light in your eyes, throat, feeling your neck. “I noticed you have lost a few pounds in the last couple of months, have you been working out more??”

“A little,” you respond, “running helps with the stress of work.”

“Well running is the perfect way for you to manage your stress as well as help keep you healthy for the rest of your life. The fact that you are elazığ escort in such excellent shape now will benefit you for the rest of your life.” As he gives you his speech about eating right and getting enough calcium, you notice his eyes slowly move down the front of your gown. Whether he is simply “examining” you or checking you out is hard to tell. As his eyes move into your midsection you notice a slight smile. Did he notice your garter? Why is he smiling?

He moves behind you, his eyes briefly meeting your as he smiles. He puts his stethoscope on and begins to listen to your chest. “Breathe deeply please.” As he listens, his left hand rests on your shoulder. He steps closer as he carefully listens to your chest. As he moves closer, you can feel his warm breath on the back of your neck, sending a slight chill down his spine. He smells like a clean soap, subtle. After several moments he stops listening. “Your lungs sound a little junky, can you now point out the rash.” You point to your back. As he looks at your back, he gently rubs his hands over your back, feeling the rash. His touch his warm, although the skin on his hands is rougher than you would expect. As his hands work their way down your back, he unties the gown, letting it fall open. Now he can definitely see you garter belt and thong, how tightly they cling to your body, how sheer they are. He quickly ties up the gown and steps forward.”

“Don’t you also have a rash on your thighs?”

“Yes, but it looks the same as on my back.” He pauses for a minute, staring in your eyes. “Alright, I’ll trust you on this one.” He smiles and gives you a playful wink. Once again his eyes trail downward, this time fixing on your chest for a few moments. “Why don’t you get dressed and I will come back and speak to you.” As he leaves the room he drops his pen and bends over to pick it up. As you get dressed you realize that his pants looked a little odd. Even though they were a little tight in the seat, you didn’t notice any underwear lines when he was crouched down getting his pen. That’s weird. As you remove the gown you realize why he was staring at your chest. Your nipples had become rock hard, likely from his soft, gentle touches to your back. They must have been poking over the half-cup bra through the gown. Although it was at first a little uncomfortable, you are oddly excited by the fact he got to see your very sexy underwear, seeing how hard your nipples got through the gown. The exhibitionist in you enjoyed the little extra attention.

He steps back into the room with a small box in his hand. “It’s pretty simple, you have a walking pneumonia. Luckily, it is easily treated with some antibiotics, here is a prescription, as well as a sample which should last you for 2 days, enough until you can get the prescription filled. Call us in a few days if your not feeling better, and don’t forget to schedule an annual appointment before you leave. It’s been 2-3 years since your last pelvic. Dr. Smith should be able to squeeze you in anytime in the next two months.” He smiles politely, shakes your hand, and exits quickly. As you put your jacket on you carefully adjust the buttons and check the mirror, making sure your nipples don’t poke through the fabric of your dress. Not a bad visit you think.

Chapter II

Thank god for Saturdays!!! It’s a beautiful day outside, sunny, warm, with a light breeze. You decide to go for a brief walk through downtown, doing a little window shopping, maybe even going into the occasional store. Luckily, it only took 3-4 days for the antibiotics you got to work, and now 3 weeks later you feel completely back to normal. You’ve been back to the gym, doing your usual work-out, which always make you feel better. Today you decide to enjoy the weather by wearing a tight white, midriff bearing tee shirt. A short black skirt and high heels complete the outfit. Underneath you wear a simply white satin thong and white satin bra. The cups are firm, emphasizing your full breasts. The shirt is sufficiently tight that many men stop to stare at your magnificent chest as you walk down the street. You enjoy their looks, especially knowing that once they get past you some turn around to get a good look at your magnificent rear through the thin, tight fabric of the micro mini skirt your wearing.

As you walk you stop in front of the window display at a large department store. This window has the lingerie. One of the mannequins is wearing a satin black bra with matching satin thong. It is very sexy but still classy. The male mannequin is wearing what looks like a tight satin material. At first you think it is a bikini, but as you look further, the straps on the side seem too thin and…

“Hello Miss. Callahan, how are you???” Startled, you turn quickly, your hair wiping around. Its that doctor again. “Oh hello Dr….”. “It’s Dr. Patel. But please call me Sid. We’re outside the clinic. How are you feeling?” As you talk, erzincan escort his eyes clearly move down your body slowly, here is no question this time he is checking you out. You feel your nipples harden, enjoying he attention. Something in your stomach tightens up, but you keep calm, not letting him know you notice the stares and enjoy them. “Pretty much back to normal Doc. Please call me Sophie.”

“Well I am glad, enjoy the rest of the day. Winter will be here soon enough.” With that he walks off. As you turn to walk in the other direction, you stop to see where he is going. You catch him turned around, clearly looking at your ass. Instead of trying to hide it though, he only smiles at your sheepishly and gives you another wink. This time his eyes move back to your eyes and lock for a moment. As he breaks his gaze his eyes move to your chest and stay there before he turns and moves on.

You turn around, now feeling slightly flushed. You feel your juices starting to flow, wetting your panty. You take a few deep breaths before you head home. On the walk home you think more about the doctor. “A little short,” you think to yourself, but otherwise good looking.” Perfect height for quickies,” you think as a devilish grin shows on your face. When you enter the apartment you drop your purse and keys in their usual spot, get a glass of water, and sit on the couch. All the windows are open, letting in a cool breeze. Your pussy still feels warm, and your nipples are still hard. What is going on?? One of your hands slowly works down your chest, till it reaches your left breast. You gently cup it, enjoying the feeling of its fullness in its hands. You feel your pussy getting wetter, knowing that you will need release soon. You stand up and pull your shirt off, not caring if someone looks into your window and sees you disrobe. You bend over to slip off your skirt. When you do this the thin material of the thong presses more tightly into your crotch, stimulating you further. You stand in front of the window, feeling the cool breeze track over your skin. You pull one of your nipples, then another, out of the confines of their cups. You let the breeze gently tease one of them while your fingers gently circle and twist the other. Now you can feel your juices soaking your thong, making it completely damp.

You sit down on the couch and pull your thong aside, too excited to take the time to remove it. Plus, you love the satiny, wet material pushing against your back door, stimulating you even more. You put one of your fingers in your mouth, slowly sucking and wetting it with your tongue. You place it at your opening and thrust in. You arch your back, enjoying the pleasure of the initial penetration. In your mind, you picture him sitting next to you, kissing your lips, putting two of his dark fingers into your hot, wet, pussy. Now your other hand moves down to rub your clit. The image of him in your head and the first brushing of your clit push you over the edge. You moan loudly as the orgasm moves over your body. You slowly rub your clit while your finger comes out of your pussy, relishing in the afterglow. You put the finger from your pussy into your mouth, tasting its musky goodness. “I am such a whore” you think to yourself. You adjust the thong, enjoying the wet feeling against your hot pussy. You walk into the kitchen to pour yourself a glass of wine after getting a robe to wear. As you sit down on the couch you think “too bad I didn’t get to talk to him more.”

Chapter III

You push your cart through the grocery store. You’re in the produce aisle, pissed off about the loud squeaking noise coming from your cart. Of course, it helps draw the attention of everyone in the store. It doesn’t help that you just came from the gym, covered in sweat, wearing your workout wear. Your top is a tight fitting sports bra which seems just a little too small. Your wearing tight fitting black spandex running pants which emphasizes your long, slender legs. The running pants are so tight that the outline of your thong shows through. While people are looking your way because of the cart, the men are definitely enjoying the view that you are giving them. As you move down the aisle you notice the doctor up ahead. He has been lingering on your mind for the last few weeks since you saw him on the street. You have masturbated two more times thinking about him, imagining his cock in your mouth, you pussy. Pussy juices start to flow as you think about your last orgasm. Dammit, why couldn’t you at least have a little make-up on??

You notice that like you he is wearing work out clothes. His are just a simple pair of running shorts as well as a plain tee shirt. Once again, as he bends over to get a can you notice there are no underwear lines, even though his shorts ride up. As you walk over, he turns and looks right at you. At first he doesn’t seem to recognize you as he stares at your face, but as his eyes move erzurum escort to your chest he looks up and smiles. “Hi Sophie!! If we keep running into each other like this people are going to talk.” This time you decide to check him out. His arms are thin, but his stomach appears flat from the running. As you stare at his crotch you see a slight bulge start to form. You look up and smile at him, tossing your hair to one side, in what you know is the ultimate flirtation. “I know. Where do you usually run?” you ask, trying to keep the conversation going. “Usually in the park. Lately I have been going to the gym more though, trying to bulk up my arms. Too damn scrawny.” You bat your eyes at him as you laugh. “Well I think you look pretty good.”

“Thank you Sophie. You look really great too.” You comment elicits a small but noticeable increase in the bulge in his crotch. His weight shifts slightly, trying to hide his growing erection. You decide to press the point.”

“What’s in your grocery basket??” You grab his hand to pull the basket, and him, a little bit closer. Just enough to cross into his “personal space”.” You look into his basket and notice pasta, some fresh spices, cheese, vegetables-> all healthy. “Just some stuff for salad and pesto. My Sunday night splurge to eat something with a little fat in it.”

“Looks delicious, making the pesto yourself?”

“Yeah, it just tastes better. Plus its healthier. What are you going to have for dinner?”

“Probably some canned soup, nothing too hard to make.”

“Well why not have dinner with me.” You can’t help but notice the slight change in the tone if his voice, indicating that he is nervous. You smile deeply, happy that your ploy worked. “Of course, Sounds great.” As you work out the details, he scribbles the address and phone number on a scrap of paper. His handwriting is awful, but at least legible. Funny, but he lives just 3 blocks away from you. You agree to meet him in his apartment in 2 hours for a casual dinner. Walking home, you become excited at the upcoming date. Once home, you quickly strip off your clothes and get into the shower. The warm water runs through your thick, luxurious hair, washing away the sweat and grime. Your hands run down your full breasts to your pussy, gently rubbing the soap in. Your clit becomes hard as you slowly rub it, getting more and more excited at the idea of having dinner with the man you have been masturbating about. The orgasm runs over your body, making the shower seem hotter than it actually is.

You decide to go with a casual look. Black pants, white silk blouse. After carefully applying your make up, you decide to be somewhat daring in your underwear. You choose a light blue, perfectly smooth bra with matching thong. As you put on your blouse you realize that the bra slightly shows through. Not obviously, just enough to be noticed on careful inspection. Your more careful about applying makeup, deciding to choose a very red lipstick to accentuate your full lips. As you glance in the mirror to make one final adjustment, you get more excited.

Chapter IV

You knock on the door. Sid opens the door and smiles “Hello Sophie. I was a little worried you might not show.” As you step in he glances very quickly at your chest, only for a moment. Maybe he noticed? You smile slightly, enjoying the attention he gives you. He is wearing a pair of tan pants and a blue shirt; simple but tasteful. As you walk in the apartment is comfortable, very neat, but clearly decorated by a man without a lot of time. You notice that there is a small balcony, with just enough room for a small table and two chairs. The table is set simply, a single candle in the middle of the table.

“Can I get you something to drink? A glass of wine.”

“Sounds perfect,” you answer. As he pours the red wine you notice that the food is already prepared. “Are you ready to eat now Sophie? I know you must be hungry after your workout.”

“Sure, why not?” The two of you move to the table carrying out the food. Dinner conversation focuses on your respective careers, likes and dislikes, the usual first date stuff. You are definitely excited by the fact that Sid has already seen you partially undressed. As dinner progresses you notice Sid looking more and more at the chest. Smiling at him, you wink just once., acknowledging what he is seeing, telling him it is okay. The dinner finishes leisurely, the two of you sipping wine slowly. The table gets cleaned quickly.

As the two of you stand on the balcony, sipping your wine, Sid moves closer, putting his hand over yours. “I hope you realize I’ve never asked a patient out before Sophie.”

“I’m not your patient Sid.” You move forward and kiss him, gently at first. Once he kisses back, you seize the moment and grab the back of Sid’s head, pushing him closer. Your tongue slides between his lips, slowly at first, then more quickly. His hands reach into your hair, massaging the back of your neck. Your hands begin to move to his shoulders, pulling the rest of his body closer to you. You feel his hardness pressed up against your thigh and it excited you more. You decide to go for the kill; your hand moves down and grabs his crotch, enjoying the rock hard cock that now fills your hand.

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

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

Emma was a lonely woman. She lived in her apartment, apart from society. With no friends or relatives, Emma used to spend long days by herself without much to do except work.

Emma was a religious woman. She would pray every night for a better life, for a message from above that showed her the path to take. She used to go to church, until she was caught masturbating while confessing. Then she had to stop attending for shame, and now her memories haunt her to this day.

Emma was a sexual woman. Even though she blamed herself for being like this, and prayed every night to be changed, she would masturbate often, and dream about big cocks and strong men who would rape her. She was sexually frustrated. A woman, raped in her youth by a man she do not remember anymore, constantly thirsting for someone, but there isn’t anybody there for her.

What a sad woman she was. She had no one to love her or to love. She lived through her days by doing the same boring things and constantly looking down at people through her apartment window, on the second floor of a small, dirty building.

One night, After she had prayed and gone to bed, Emma had a strange dream. She dream with the letter D. The letter appeared before her, imposing and strong.

“I can solve your problems, Emma dear,” the huge D said to her. She tried to touch it but it slipped between her fingers and started to get away from her.

“Stop!” she yelled at it.

“Not quite. You need to catch me. Love can’t be created if pain isn’t involved,” the letter told her, as it drifted farther and farther away.

Emma opened her eyes and found herself sweating a lot, drenching her pajamas. She thought about this absurd dream. At first, she wanted to forget about it, but then she understood. Emma realized that her life was miserable in her current state, and that she wanted to take her life instead of living her stupid existence. She was now dreaming with letters that could solve problems, that was the last straw.

At 4am that morning, Emma walked to a high bridge that was close to her apartment. She approached it trembling, hating herself, but also afraid to die. She stood on the edge ready to jump, when suddenly a group of people was passing by, and she hurriedly got down from the unstable arm rail and back to safety. In their state of drunkenness they did not notice the suicidal woman, but she did notice them. She heard someone mention some Mr D. This called to her attention and thus, like a confused zombie, she followed this group closely as they walked down the road, and listened to their conversation.

“…that’s what she told me, I don’t know. I hear he is some sort of myth. The sexiest man in the city, fucks anyone he wants. Ladies are constantly looking for the guy a willing to pay anything to sleep with him, but I hear that finding him is the hardest part. The guy is a ghost, but Rebecca said she saw him. I think it’s bullshit.”

“Bullshit, ha! Nah bro that shit is real. I’ve heard ’bout him too. That guy’s my idol. They say he’s into some weird shit, man, and that to reach the guy you have to go downtown, to Ledger street. Problem is, that place is fucked up,” said another guy in the group.

“Ledger street?! Yo, you need to really be in a huge need to find that nigga if you are willing çorum escort to go there,” said someone else.

“You’re all a bunch of pussies, that’s why you’ll never be like him!” said some girl.

“Shut up hoe!” said one of the men in the group, “and who the fuck are you?” he said turning, noticing Emma who had been following them and closely listening.

“I-I’m sorry I just-” she said.

“Bitch get the fuck out of my face, hoe!” yelled the man, the rest cheering him, and Emma went away hurriedly. The next day, she went to Ledger street.

Even during the day, Ledger street was a nasty place. Prostitution and drugs were the thing there, but usually it was also a place where normal people went to hook up and have some crazy experiences without compromising their social status. Normal couples were seen going into orgies or married men or women had their gay relationships there without fear of being discovered. For some paradise, for some, hell, but Emma now wanted to find D, and nothing more.

She walked down the street and looked about her surroundings. She was afraid to ask the wrong person about D, and thus remained a silent observer for a long while, before she finally decided to go into the most popular place in that street, The Second Circle, to inquire about him.

The place looked like a bar. People were sitting and standing about, and drinking or flirting with whores. Some were sitting at a table, talking to some friends, while underneath you could see someone sucking their dicks off. It was dirty and very loud. Our Emma got close to the bar, where a beautiful, half-naked redhead was serving drinks.

“What’s it gonna be, babe?” said the redhead.

“I’m looking for someone…” replied Emma.

“Bah! Ain’t we all!? Ha, ha! Have a drink first and then you can ask me sweetheart, otherwise go bother someone else.”

“Alright… let me have… w-what do you recommend?”

“The fuck should I know?”

“I’m just not into drinking, so I don’t know what should I have. Beer, I guess?-“

“First time here, babe?” said the redhead, this time a little less roughly, “first-timers are always cute. We ain’t got no beer. Here, drink this,” she said, and gave her a transparent liquid. Emma smelled it, and with a worried face, swallowed it. She felt the cold liquid burn her insides and pump blood directly to her face. She coughed and made stupid noises.

“At least it’s better than cum, eh? Ha, ha, ha!” joyfully laughed the redhead.

“Um, can you tell me now…” Emma said timidly.

“Wait a sec, I gotta serve that ugly fuck over there, and I’ll be back for your question.” Emma waited while the barmaid attended other drunk costumers, and started to feel more at ease. That liquor she was given had some effect on her, and for some reason she felt at peace for the first time in a while. When the redhead returned, she also looked a little more friendly than before.

“Alright babe, you can ask me now but make it quick, ok?” the barmaid said, “My name is Dorothy, by the way. It’s useful to make some friends in this part of town, and you start by learning their names. So, are you looking for a whore? We got some here. Or is it a pimp? You looking for a job?”

“I’m Emma, and no I’m not looking for any of that. I’m denizli escort looking for a man known as D, or at least people call him that?” said our heroine. The expression of Dorothy changed a little from relaxed to interested. She started to display an alluring look in her eyes.

“So, the little kitten is looking for some major business? May I ask where did you hear that name, babe?”

“I heard someone on the street…”

“You shouldn’t believe everything you hear!” and Dorothy got closer to Emma, putting her elbows on the bar and her hands on her face, “Tell me Emma, do you like women?”

“I… w-what do you mean?”

“Sexually, do you like women? You know, tits, pussy, that kind of stuff.”

“I’m straight, sorry. But why are you asking me that? I’m just looking for-“

“That’s a shame, you know? A green sprout like ain’t got no chance. Mr D is a myth, babe.”

“He isn’t. I’m sure of that. Thanks for the help,” said Emma with a conviction that was strange on her. She was ready to leave when Dorothy caught her by her hand.

“Listen, the way you are right now, you won’t go far. I can help you,” she let go of Emma’s hand, “come back anytime,” she said with a smile.

“Hey bitch! Bring me my fucking beer, will you!?” was heard from across the bar.

Emma left that wretched place with her head down, and went home. She felt she needed a shower, and after taking a long bath, she went to bed. Again that loneliness. She was sick of it.

Next morning, skipping her job, she was there again, at The Second Circle. In seeing her, Dorothy smiled. She said she had something for her, and grabbed her by the hand and took it to the back of the bar and into a long hallway. The hallway was actually a place to have sex. Emma could see how inside both walls many rooms extended all the way down to the end, each open, with no door, and inside most of them there were couples making love, or in the VIP rooms, orgies taking place. Emma got a little scared, but for some reason, decided to trust Dorothy who was the only living person with whom she had a conversation in years; besides, the day before Dorothy had called herself a ‘friend’.

They walked down the hallway while Emma tried not to see everything that surrounded her. The loud moans that intensified the atmosphere, and the damp air and smell of sweat mixed with all kinds of perfume. Emma tried praying but it didn’t work. She repented for her actions, but it didn’t work. She was here now and she had to deal with this. She and Dorothy got into one of these rooms. Only when inside, Emma noticed how small they were. There was only enough space for a small, round table at the center, and a couple of small sofas to each side of it, and opposite each other. Emma remembered the question Dorothy asked her the day before, and got nervous, but said nothing, as if accepting her fate. She was ready for Dorothy to make a move.

“Be a good girl and wait here, ok?” said Dorothy softly, kissing her cheek with a wet kiss, “I’ll bring you what you want.”

Emma sat in one of the sofas and waited there. The was left alone in the sea of lust. Women could be heard having orgasms all over, and men too. Dirty things were shouted, and a chaos of moans came from all directions at once. Emma was düzce escort going crazy.

About 15 minutes had elapsed when a couple comes into the room. They seemed drunk senseless, and with huge smiles on their faces. They saw Emma here and then looked at each other. They looked disappointed. They came in anyway and sat on the sofa opposite her. They young couple sat there awkwardly waiting for something to happen, while Emma tried her best not to make eye contact with them. After a while the unknown girl spoke.

“Umm, are you some kind of service lady? Are we supposed to hook up or sumthin’?”

“No… I’m just waiting for someone here. Umm, don’t…mind me…” said Emma growing afraid.

“Oh! Ok! We thought… never mind,” said the girl. The couple looked at each other a little happier this time, and again sat there for a while. Not a long time went by, however, when Emma noticed the hand of the girl reach for the guy’s pants. They started to kiss softly. Emma noticed they were starting to relax a little too much. The couple kissed more and more passionately. The girl used both hands and unzipped his pants quickly, while he licked her perspired neck and softly parted the top of her dress and showed her bra. Emma looked away quickly, but curiosity called her eyes back. By the time Emma looked again, the girl had his dick in her mouth and was sucking it with a passion. Eyes closed tight, cheeks sunk in her face, and her hand jerking him off while she slurped and licked her boyfriends penis. Emma felt a rush of adrenaline at seeing this. Flashbacks tried to come to her from her first time, but it was useless. She cared not for those moments, but for this one. She had been masturbating all her adult life, longing for a man’s dick to break her pussy apart, and it never came to her, and now, she was sitting right across this couple, having the sex she so desired. She felt infinite envy, disgust, pleasure, anger, joy, shame; all at the same time. As Emma kept watching, the couple took it a step further. She stopped sucking and kissed his lips. While doing this, the guy spread his legs and sat comfortable in front of Emma, while the girl, after glancing at Emma for a second to check if she was watching, let that cock slide right into her cunt. The girl started riding it while she moaned and called him a beast. She let him lick her nipples and slap her ass, while she jumped up and down on him.

Emma felt a huge need to masturbate, and so she did. She, not caring anymore introduced her hand in her panties and started beating an already wet pussy. She introduced her fingers in and with a back and forth motion, made herself cum while not looking away from the young couple. The guy quickly lifted her girlfriend up, and with a huge moan let all his cum splash on her face.

Panting and laughing, the couple got dressed and went away. Emma was left there. She was a mess. Her panties were drenched and she had lost all strength in her body. For a moment, even forgetting what she was doing in such a place.

She pulled herself together when a black man of high stature came walking down and noticed her there.

“Who’re you?” he asked her.

“I’m Emma, I’m…”

“I didn’t ask you your name, hoe! I mean what the fuck are you doin’ there?”

“I… D-dorothy…”

“Man, look at you. You are a mess. We are closed, bitch, you gotta go.”

“W-wait!”

The man grabbed her and dragged her to the end of the hallway. She was pushed and thrown outside through a door that led to an alley.

To be continued

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

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

Author’s note: If you have not read the previous story of this tale, please do so. You will better understand the characters of this tale, their way of speaking, and some of the mannerisms and customs unique to Japan. Forgive me if there are parts of this story that differ from your knowledge and understanding of Japan and its people.

The standard discloser applies in that everyone is eighteen-years or older and all characters being purely fictional. Constructive comments and suggestions are always welcomed. Please enjoy the telling of the tale.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

In Japan, a young woman is expected to be innocent and proper, observant of the numerous etiquette rules, and the epitome of Japanese feminine virtues. She is indoctrinated from an early age to defer to males, her seniors, and her superiors to the point where it is second nature to her. When she marries, she is further expected to be submissive, obedient, and devoted in the caring for her spouse no matter what sacrifice she must endure on his behalf.

It was this fundamental mindset that enabled me to seduce Kiyomi, the beautiful but much-neglected housewife of Ichiro, my proverbial absent-minded and geeky college instructor. When faced with the distinct possibility that her husband might be dismissed due to his personal and academic shortcomings, Kiyomi desperately sought to prevent her ingrate husband from losing face. Although unwillingly at first, she gave her petite but luscious body to me, her husband’s superior, to ensure that her spouse did not fall into disgrace.

However, in the process of discharging the obligation expected of a dutiful wife, Kiyomi discovered the world of “pillowing” (the Japanese euphemism for sex). Long denied by her neglectful spouse, she succumbed to her unfulfilled emotional needs and then the craving of her physical needs. As such, Kiyomi came to accept me as her secret lover and sensei (teacher/master) in a forbidden romance and all sexual matters.

However, carrying on a secret affair with a “gaijin” (foreigner) who was head of the language department of a prestigious university was a daunting for any Japanese woman, much less a married one. While I assisted in the matter by sending Ichiro on various research trips to the United States, there were only so many coincidental meetings that a faithful wife could have with her husband’s foreign superior without drawing unwanted attention. It went without saying that our subsequent trysts created a stressful quandary for Kiyomi.

“Oh, Damon-sama, it is not proper for a wife to experience so much pleasure in the embrace of a man who is not her husband,” Kiyomi sighed deeply in frustration after one of our trysts. “I should be content with the quick kisses and fleeting caresses that we share, but I am so shameless for I brazenly desire more.

“Under your tutelage, I have learned the art of giving a…how do you say it…ah, ‘blow job.’ It gives me great pleasure feeling your manhood fill my mouth and throat, and to see that I please you by doing so. And as for the cream of your loins that floods my mouth, it is so ‘oishi’ (delicious). Ummm, how the taste of you lingers delightfully in my mouth long after I have left you…ummm.

“I have placed myself on the ‘pill’ so that I can further pleasure you as you teach me the ways of…sexual…satisfaction. As instructed, I wear no undergarments so that you may have easy access to my body should the opportunity present itself. I never imagined that a man’s touch could inflame me so, making my heart beat so loudly that others must surely know of my brazen excitement.

“Ooh, how my breath catches in my throat when you so manly…so ‘un-Japanese’… pull apart of the folds of my kimono to release my much too bountiful breasts. Oh, Damon-sama, you cannot know how I have been told since I was young that my bosom is much too large for a proper lady – yet, with you, they seem so right. How my embarrassingly large nipples throb fiercely for hours after leaving you, longing for more of your lips, teeth, and fingers.

“I am so ashamed that I have become enamored with your…’quickies!’ Ooh, Damon-sama, when you take charge of me and bending me over, hastily push my dress or kimono up my back. To be entered so suddenly and taken so vigorously makes the wincing pain is so…exquisite. As my knees weaken and my breath quickens with your lustful and virile use of me that I cannot help but feel like a desired woman…

“But our risk is great. There are so many eyes, ears, and wagging tongue. Our rather unusually close relationship…especially when Ichiro happens to be away…draws the attention of many around us. Ooh, Damon-sama, you are my sensei and I am your obedient student; yet, I fear that one day we shall be discovered to our shame and disgrace. What are we to do?”

Surprisingly, the answer to our dilemma was found in a rather unique Japanese institution – the “love hotel.” To avoid the social humiliation of being caught violating the complex etiquette system that permeated all aspects of bitlis escort daily life, Japanese solution was incredibly simple – if others didn’t know what you did, there was no cause for shame.

These highly discrete establishments complied fully with this tenet by limiting, if not eliminating, any interaction between their guests and the hotel staff. As a result, an ambiance of customer anonymity was created, enabling their Japanese clientele to satisfy out their erotic desires by providing the utmost privacy.

The hotel that I had chosen looked like a very ordinary low-rise apartment building from the outside to avoid drawing unwanted attention to what went on within its windowless walls. Room selection, entry arrangements, other desired amenities, and payment were done online via a created persona. A unique access code allowed entry into the hotel’s parking structure and then raised the garage door of your designated stall. Upon exiting the car, another code allowed access to a short entryway and unlocked the selected private suite. No one would know who occupied the room or what we did in its confines; thus, allowing us to do something socially unacceptable without anyone knowing.

“Oh my, this is not what I had expected, Damon-sama. How delightfully ‘quaint,'” Kiyomi murmured as we slipped off our footwear before entering our apartment. I knew that my choice of a traditional ambiance with a lot of wood, bamboo, tatami (straw mat flooring), sparse but functional furnishing, and tasteful floral arrangements would please my lover. “I am transported to my younger days of learning the tea ceremony and ikebana (flower arrangement) at my grandmother’s in the country.”

“Kiyomi, it is not tea that we will be partaking of but the sake of the finest quality which should be chilling on ice in the holder at that low-rise table. But, before we imbibe in some relaxing liquid, I wish us to be more comfortable. It would please me greatly if you would change from your lovely kimono since I would dislike wrinkling it in our enjoyment. There is a garment in that box that I wish you to wear…a present from me. Please change into it.”

At one time, Kiyomi would have been shocked and balked at such a request; however, our stolen moments had taught her how her clothing could become quite mussed to give her a disheveled appearance which was unacceptable. She also knew that disrobing in front of me gave me immeasurable viewing pleasure. So, with a slight nod that hid a subtle smile, Kiyomi acquiesced to my request and began undoing her tasteful kimono layer by layer.

With measured movements, Kiyomi slowly disrobed in what seemed like a century-old almost-stylized manner that gradually revealed her snow-white nape, throat, and upper chest in a most enticing way. The binding decorative silk of her broad obi was unwound from around her trim waist; her dark green and sedate external kimono was removed next; and then her pale green under-robe was shed; each was neatly folded and set aside. Once free from the restraint of her kimono robes, Kiyomi’s abundant bosom surged against the thin one-piece cotton liner that was held in place by several simple ties.

Tucking her liner under her knees as she knelt, Kiyomi opened my present and gasped loudly upon seeing its contents, her hand flying to cover her open mouth. She then held up a flimsy garment similar to her liner except that it was made of translucent material trimmed with thin satin and was a vibrant red. Kiyomi blushed before saying, “Damon-sama, this is so…unusual. I don’t know if I…it is so sheer that it would be like wearing…nothing.” Then with a slight pause of uncertainty, she demurely murmured, “And red is the color of…”

I knew that no proper Japanese woman would wear a red kimono undergarment that for centuries had been commonly associated with the loose and immoral women of the night. I also knew that Kiyomi was reluctant because the flimsy garment would readily expose size her in the most un-Japanese way by shamelessly flaunting instead of downplaying her physical attributes and unspoken sexuality.

“Kiyomi, the material and especially the color of what you hold is to remind you of the passion and pleasure that you have hidden within you. It pleases me and will serve to introduce you to your next phase of instruction. Now, please put it on and become a different woman within the confines of this love hotel suite.”

With a fleeting glance at me, Kiyomi bowed in acquiesce as she whispered, “Hai (yes), Damon-sama.” Untying her liner, she revealed her breathtaking snow-white nudity, and I had to stop myself from gawking in lusty appreciation. The red liner was slipped on, and its sheer material flowed like water over the curves of her petite form, clinging to and highlighting her full breasts, hanging sensuously off her large purple-red nipples, and then pooling over the black silk of her womanliness tucked between her soft inner thighs.

With gently closed eyes, Kiyomi shivered at the feathery caress of the bolu escort soft material and after a moment of absorbing the ambiance of her clothing, instinctively reached to undo her put-up hair. However, before she could release ebony tresses, I stopped her, enjoying a single lock of ebony hair that drifted freely to contrast with her snow-white skin. When she gathered herself to look demurely at me, I saw my repressed and neglected housewife transformed into my enticingly submissive but willing mistress.

“Change me, Kiyomi-chan,” I uttered as I stood before her with my chin pointed towards the soft cotton robe that was neatly folded at the base of a wooden valet.

“Hai, Damon-sama,” she replied as with practiced fingers, Kiyomi quickly and effortlessly undressed me. Her almond shaped eyes widening slightly in appreciation when my fleshy katana thrust proudly from my groin once freed from my restraining boxers. Her dainty hand flew to hold me, absently stroking me as she temptingly licked her delicate lips. However, before her head could complete its downward descent, Kiyomi caught herself and reining in her urges, finished dressing me in my cotton robe. After securely tucking my erection in the folds of my kimono, she bowed deeply.

“Dozo (please),” Kiyomi murmured as she gestured for me to be seated on the zabutons (large flat cushions) behind a small low table and then reached for a small ceramic flask of chilled fine sake. Shifting to kneel beside me and composing herself, she deftly filled a small ceramic cup that she had placed before me.

“Kiyomi, I do not believe in drinking alone. Please – please, pour yourself some sake.”

I knew that Kiyomi was about to object, but a slight raising of my eyebrow silenced any protest and she hastened to pour a cup for herself. Meeting my raised cup, Kiyomi followed my lead as she sipped deeply. The chilled sake was delicately sweet and incredibly smooth as it slid down our throats. It also was deceptively intoxicating for the non-drinker, and with each sip, Kiyomi’s bodily tension, mental reservations, and along with her long-held inhibitions so were washed away.

“Oh, Damon-sama, I feel…so hot…and…different,” Kiyomi sighed heavily as she leaned against my chest after two sake flasks had been drained. Oblivious that her flimsy robe had slipped from her and that her ample breasts swayed freely, Kiyomi pushed open the folds of my robe to caress my hairy chest in fascination. “My, you are so virile…so manly…unlike Ichiro who is hairless like a little boy. Touching you so boldly makes me feel…”

Sliding her hand behind my head, Kiyomi pulled my face to hers to passionately kiss me. Her tongue invaded my mouth to duel with mine in a wild frenzy to unspoken desire. Tilting her head back slightly to utter a breathy, “Wanton. I am so shameless with you. And in my desire for you, I take such unseemly liberties without asking my sensei’s permission.”

As she pressed me back, Kiyomi spun around to blaze a hot wet path down my body before mumbling, “This place… this crimson robe… the sake…oh, Damon-sama, you have transformed me into a ‘yujo’ (a woman of pleasure, prostitute) who plied her services to gaijin in the teahouses of the port cities.”

With that said, Kiyomi dropped her head to my lap and wrapped her delicate lips about my egg-like penis head, giving me one hell of a deep-throat head job as she devoured my rock-hard shaft. To think that just a few months ago I had seduced my lover and introduced her as to how to pleasure a man with her mouth. Now, fellatio had become second-nature and gave her as much pleasure as it did me.

“Ooh, how I love your manhood in my mouth,” Kiyomi uttered before resuming her furious sucking on my cock. While her petite hand slid easily up and down my saliva-coat cock that thrust rigidly into the air, Kiyomi gasped for “Ooh, how I have come to savor the taste of your manhood and the seed of your loins.”

However, as Kiyomi resumed her eye-opening blow job, I pulled her on top of me with my head wedged between her inner thighs to gaze upon her twisting femininity. The sight of her clench butthole winking lewdly at me reminded me of a carnal urge that I had suppressed when I first seduced my Asian housewife. Due to a lack of time or privacy. I had failed to fulfill to consummate that desire in our subsequent trysts

“Damon-sama, what are you doing to me? Are you…” Kiyomi jerked and emitted a sharp squeal when I firmly clutched and spread her spongy buttocks to ream her sweet tush with my stiff rasping tongue.

“You cannot surrender to your inner yujo unless you are well-versed giving erotic pleasure in all ways to your lord and master, Kiyomi-chan. No orifice or body part should be denied me, Kiyomi. It is time that you to complete your pillowing education by surrendering your last virginity.”

A shrill whine escaped her lips as Kiyomi realized my erotic intent when I squeezed fingertip into her brown pucker. “Dame (stop), dame, oh, please, Damon-sama!”

I burdur escort had learned that in true Japanese feminine manner, Kiyomi’s entreaties for me to “stop” were often a sham to save face held and were not representative of her actual desires. Her previous protests to stop eventually gave way to groans of desire as unexpected pleasure as, slowly but surely, her body betrayed her true desire. However, this time her plea was somehow different as she fervently struggled in distress.

As she sought to compose herself, Kiyomi’s angst was a strange combination of my displeasure that was clearly registered on my face, her own embarrassment of her denial, and some aspect yet to be revealed. With downcast eyes, she knelt with her legs pressed together and a palm on the outside of each knee, and perform ‘dogeza’ (ritualized bowing of atonement). Bowing until her forehead lightly touched the floor, Kiyomi uttered in a trembling voice, “Watashi o yurushite kudasai” (please forgive me), Damon-sama. I have shamed myself for acting so improperly. It’s just that…”

The tears trickled out of the corners of almond-shaped eyes washed away my anger, I murmured, “What, Kiyomi-chan? Tell me.” When she tried but then balked, I let out a loud sigh and sternly uttered, “Tell me, Kiyomi.”

The tone of my voice was like the crack of a whip, and Kiyomi quickly straighten. Then not wishing to further anger or disappoint me, she hesitantly mumbled, “‘Chikan’ is the Japanese term to describe the molestation of young girls, normally school girls on crowded public transit trains. Commuters are crammed so tightly into the train cars is such that one cannot move, and this gives certain men the opportunity to take advantage of young girls.

“People around the victim are often aware of what is happening, but none will help. Most feel that it is the girl’s fault for tempting men or for allowing such a thing happen to her. The authorities who are seldom inclined to do anything for a victim who may have never see her assailant, and making an accusation exposes the victim to shame, scorn, and humiliation.”

“Kiyomi, were you a victim of chikan?”

“Hai, Damon-sama, I was. For much of my schooling, my female classmates and I were aware of chikan and resolved not to fall prey to such perverse men. We traveled as a group that would not hesitate of voice our collected alarm should any of us be in danger of becoming a victim. However, the month before graduation I was required to live with my ailing grandmother and had to commute to school alone. Given my rather petite but buxom figure and rather shy demeanor, it went without saying that I drew the unwanted attention of those males who practiced chikan.

“I remember vividly my first time. The conductors were pushing more passengers into an already packed train car that would take me to my school. We were so crowded that I could not move as I was crushed against the back of the man in front of me, and hem in by the man on either side of me and especially the one behind me. With one of my hands holding the ceiling rung and the other clasping my books to me, I didn’t suspect how vulnerable I would be.

“The train shook and jostled the packed passengers, and I thought that touching against another could not be helped. However, that was until I felt the hand of the man in front of me reach back to grope my… ‘womanhood’…through my school skirt. Shocked, I jerked back and away from his violating fingers. However, if anything, my struggles invited the attention of the men around me, and I was pressed even tighter. Those on either side of me averted their faces so that I could not identify them, but their hands found me, and slyly at first and then boldly began to fondle my breasts.

This, however, made me press against the groin of the man who was behind me, and I whimpered pitifully when I felt his hands grip and squeeze my ‘oshiri’ (buttocks). As I uttered a futile protest, the back of my skirt was lifted and the man’s hand quickly slipped under my panties. I squirmed futilely as I tried to evade the violating hands but my efforts only caused the four men to press further against me, preventing me from moving. Although I cried out to be left alone, those around us paid any attention to me or secretly watched my molestation.

The loud rattling of the train swallowed my shrill whine of surprise and objection when suddenly a finger was slid between my oshiri and pressed against my komon (anus), making me rise to the balls of my feet. Despite my frantic squirming, a persistent finger continued to worm its way further into me, taking my breath away so I could not cry out. Just then the car bell rang indicating that approach of the next train station. In a flash, I was ushered out and left feeling totally dazed and violated, yet unable to identify my chikan assailants.”

“Kiyomi, why didn’t you tell your family or your friends?”

“I was sickened and greatly shamed at being violated, Damon-sama. I could not understand what had happened to me and in a way, felt that it was my fault. You must understand, Damon-sama, that Japanese girls are taught not to draw unwanted attention to themselves and not to express anger against an adult male, even an offending one. And at the time, I felt…helpless.

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

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

Eyes half-closed, she leaned back in the chair, the constant buzz of her client’s conversation little more than background noise for her imaginings. She really ought to have paid attention to what she was being told; honestly, wasn’t that what she was getting paid for? Still, something stuck in her mind like a thorn, irritating her, driving her mad, rendering her completely unable to focus on the matters at hand. She jotted a note and nodded, feigning interest, and the client went on.

How long HAD it been, she wondered, silently tallying the months. Three years. Three years since her husband had died after a long illness. And really, it was far longer than that. He was in no shape for such activities long before his death. And since he died, she threw herself into her practice, seeing as many clients as she possibly could so she wouldn’t have to be home alone. Sex, dating… all of the trappings of romance were out of the question because she was a young widow.

There seemed to be something foreboding about a woman widowed at a young age. She was 23 years old when the casket was slammed shut and her all too brief marriage was over. Most of her friends hadn’t married yet, let alone been widowed. Most people offered her their condolences, but really no one understood. Men that she met who might have been previously interested suddenly shied away, spooked, as if she was somehow responsible for her husband’s death. Her parents kept encouraging her to go out, to meet someone new, to be active, but for a long time she didn’t have any interest in anything, not even a one night stand.

Until today.

When she woke up that morning, something inside her was different. Her pussy throbbed, and crankily demanded some attention. She was a little bit bewildered at the way her body mutinied against her, and she hurriedly got up and began to prepare for her day. When she picked up the suit she’d chosen for work, she suddenly came to a halt.

I don’t want to wear this prudish thing, she thought. I want to feel sexy today. I want to feel like all of me still works. She rooted around in her closet, and dug out a knee length black skirt that she hadn’t worn in years. Then she chose a white oxford shirt, a short jacket, and some strappy black heels. Hunting around in the back of her underwear drawer she grinned as she felt just what she was looking for. A garter belt and lace-topped thigh high black stockings. Perfect. Slipping on a low-cut lacy bra and the garter, she skipped panties and finished dressing. Perching her small glasses on the bridge of her nose, she appraised herself in the mirror. In truth, she didn’t look overtly sexy, but she felt incredibly naughty, and it didn’t matter to her if anyone else knew.

She shifted in her chair, coming back to the present, but remembering how she dressed caused a sudden rush of wetness, heralding her need. She cleared her throat and turned her attention to her client, who was making his final comments. She leaned to one side, nodding, then bayburt escort rose, shook his hand, and watched him go down the hall to the exit. Once he was out of sight, she leaned against the wall and let out a tremendous sigh. I’m the only one in the office now, and I don’t have anyone else to see today… I could just forego the paperwork and satisfy this craving I’m having, she thought, and then nodded to herself. Retreating back into her office, she shut the door behind her. The office was fairly spacious, with a comfortable leather couch on one end, a long wide light oak desk on the other with a stuffed oak chair, and a few extra armchairs against the wall. She sat on the edge of her desk, aware of the sudden wetness between her legs.

Why am I so turned on? she wondered even as her hand sought out the slickness between her folds. Skillfully, she teased her clit, eliciting a moan of pleasure. She reached behind her and slid the files on her desk to the far end, and leaned back on her elbow, spreading her knees wide. She lifted one leg and hooked the heel of her right shoe on the wooden armrest of her chair. She took a moment to appreciate the silken smoothness of her pussy before she plunged her fingers back between the folds and began to work in earnest. The pressure was quickly building in her abdomen, and she knew she could climax quickly, but she took her time, slowly, steadily, and rather roughly stimulating herself. The great oak desk creaked and banged against the wall, further exciting her. Reaching for the buttons of her shirt, she undid the first few, sneaking her hand inside her bra, and she roughly tweaked her nipples.

She looked up on the wall, her eyes coming to rest on the camera there. She’d had surveillance cameras installed in every room to lower her insurance costs and further reassure the clients. She smiled at it, a naughty, wicked smile, and swiveled her hips to expose herself to the camera. She pretended she was a porn actress, masturbating for the camera, and she made a good show of it. It amused her to no end as she fucked her pussy with two of her fingers, thinking of the titles for the movie. Therapists Gone Wild. Sex Therapy. She laughed and moaned at the same time, and decided she was about done, moving her fingers back up to her clit and working again, low moans echoing in the room. With a final toss of her head, she felt the walls of her cunt contract, and orgasm washed through her. When the last of the shuddering was through, she looked up at the camera, and licked off her sopping wet fingers, and then sat up.

She panted for a moment, eyes resting closed, and she brought her feet to the floor as she sat on her desk. She was smiling, relishing the naughtiness of what she’d done.

Click.

The door opened a crack, and her heart was hammering in her chest. She looked at the door as it slowly opened, a client standing there. He didn’t say a word, but his cock let her know exactly what he had on his mind.

“I was bilecik escort in the area and I stopped in to set some appointments. Uh…”

Her mouth went dry as she saw him looking up her skirt, no doubt easily seeing her naked snatch. She stood up and he crossed room, an unsure look on his face, but his dick rigidly attentive.

“And what brought this about?” she asked.

“Well, I …” he trailed off a moment, visibly shuddering. “I didn’t see the receptionist, and I was going to just leave, but I heard noises. So I went down the hall, and I saw the door to the camera room was open. I went in and I…”

She paled. He’d seen her performance when she was completely sure she was alone. She didn’t know what to do, and simply gaped at him. But her horror soon made way for desire. She wanted him to fuck her, as unethical as it was, and as much as she shouldn’t do it, she wanted him.

She’d been seeing him for minor depression. He had had a rough childhood and now, in his early 30’s, was coming to terms with it. She’d always thought he was personable, more stable than he thought, and it baffled her that he wasn’t married yet. He was a normal guy, with the beginnings of male pattern baldness and a tiny bit of a paunch. She liked that about him, his reserved ways, and how utterly average he was. He had small glasses a lot like hers, and tended to dress well and conservatively. She was puzzled that he’d even come into the room, as uncomfortable as he seemed. She looked up at him and met his eyes. As tremulous as his voice sounded, his eyes hungrily devoured her. Her decision was made.

Her hands sought out the fastening on his khaki dockers and she tore them open, exposing his cock. She let the pants and boxer shorts fall to his ankles, and she took in the look and smell of his cock. He was, again, normal, with an average sized prick, and large, smooth balls. Her eyes met his, asking permission, and he leaned down and kissed her, offering his silent assent.

It was so strange to feel another person’s lips against hers. It had been so long, and her pussy leaked juice onto the desk. His hands rest on her knees and gently edged them apart. He stepped between them, his glans gently probing her wetness. He slowly, slowly worked open the buttons of her shirt, sliding it and her jacket down her arms and onto the desk. Reaching around behind her, he unfastened her bra, and freed her breasts. She leaned back and gave him a good look. He was rubbing his cock on the outside of her, teasing her still-sensitive clit, soaking himself in her fluid. She couldn’t help the way her hips moved on the desk as his hands roamed her, his thumbs gently brushing her nipples, his mouth on hers. Pulling her close, he eased himself inside of her; everything he did was so gentle. Hands on her ankles, he wrapped her legs around his waist, and he picked her up, still balls-deep in her pussy, and walked with her to the couch. He laid her down gently, eyes on hers, and with one foot on the floor, bingöl escort began to slowly fuck his therapist.

She moaned like a whore, her cunt still quivering from her orgasm, and she writhed beneath him, which drove him nuts. He fucked her at varying paces for a while, then withdrew from her, spilling some of her juices onto the couch.

“Do you like it very hard?” he asked softly, startling her with his consideration. She blushed suddenly, as if his speaking broke the spell, and she nodded. His hands guided her to a kneeling position on the floor, leaning against the couch, and she felt him lift up her skirt and press into her again. His hands firmly grasped her hips, and slowly, deliberately, he thrust in and out of her.

“Harder!” she hissed. He went slower, his motions even more gentle.

“Don’t tell me how to fuck. You’ll get it exactly as I choose to give it to you. No faster, no slower. Be quiet,” he said, deliberately, gently, but firmly. Her pussy throbbed in response. She’d never been told to be quiet. She liked that he knew how he was going to fuck her, and he didn’t let her take over. Just as she acclimated to his gentleness, she felt him slam into her, the sound of his impact sharply echoing off the office walls. Suddenly he was pounding into her, penetrating her so deeply she screamed and bit the couch.

“Mmm… that was what you were looking for, wasn’t it?” he asked, just as softly as before. She moaned loudly in response. He continued to roughly fuck her pussy, her thighs banging against the couch so hard she was sure she’d bruise. But again, just as suddenly as he started, he stopped, and withdrew.

“Lie down on the floor,” he urged, helping her down. In a heartbeat she found herself lying on her back, her ankles in his hands. “I want you to hold onto your ankles. Don’t let go.” She nodded, and reached up, grasping her ankles. He smiled, and nodded, adjusting his glasses. “Pull them back a little,” he said, pushing her feet back. This is a weird position, she thought. I wonder why he wants me to…

Her question was immediately answered when he plunged back into her, more deeply than she had ever been penetrated. She yowled and bucked as he wildly fucked her, his cock slamming into her mercilessly. This is how whores fuck. I have NEVER fucked like this, she thought. His face tightened up, and she knew he was about to come. She felt his violent spasms inside her, his eyes tightly shut. Finally his muscles relaxed, and he eased back onto his knees, smiling at her.

They sat in awkward silence, and finally he said, “I should probably get home and leave you to finish your work, huh?” She nodded in response, and watched as he quickly dressed. Sitting in her chair, she smiled over her shoulder as he quietly slipped from her office to let himself out. She sat there alone for a good long while, smugly satisfied at the good lay she’d gotten. She was touched at how kind he was, yet selfish enough to take things as he wanted them. He definitely turned her on.

And for his part, he whistled a cheery tune as he walked to his car, flipping a black rectangle in his hands. He never thought he’d live out his greatest fantasy, much less have gotten it all caught on tape for him to enjoy whenever he pleased…

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Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

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

(Usual Disclaimer Time: Even though this story almost entirely takes place in a high school setting, all the characters in this story are 18 years old or older, and since we’re living in the wide wonderful world of porno-land here, where clichés roam free and things might get a little unrealistic from time to time, please remember it’s all in good fun, I swear.)

(Author’s Note: After considering the reviews of the previous chapter, I was offered some solid criticisms about the pacing and characterization of the last few chapters, and while I may not agree with every detail of every criticism, they made good points on topics I was already becoming aware of. In an effort to address them, I am speeding up a couple storylines and putting three chapters of intended story material into these next two chapters. I want to thank everyone for this feedback, as it keeps me honest as an author and helps me address potential problems that I’ve been vaguely aware of without addressing. Because of these changes, I will apologize in advance for the slower start to this chapter, but as ever, I will try to end with a bang. As well, I would like to again thank MisterWildCard for acting as a second set of eyes on this chapter and for his honest editing and fantastic suggestions. As always, if you’re enjoying this, please, please, please drop some stars, reviews or shoot me some feedback. Though I may not always respond, I do love hearing from all of you and seeing that you’re enjoying the series. It keeps me going and motivates me to continue writing more. You’ve all been wonderful and I can’t thank you enough for all of your kind words and encouragement and yes, even the criticisms!)

Previously, on Senior Year Memories: While researching the identity of the mystery girl he had sex with on Halloween, Sam, with the help of his best friend Tori’s older sister, Rachel McNeil, 18-year-old nerd Ryan Collins was given a tip that Sam might be in some way related to the school’s marching band. Following this lead, he went to the band geek friend of his goth lover Josie Wong, Hope Harris, for answers. Hope revealed that she was interested in a more intimate (and kinky) encounter with Ryan before she’d give up an answer, and while intrigued, Ryan was unable to follow through on this after being intercepted by library aide Marie Halpern. Taken to the library to meet with the librarian, Mrs. Claire Sullivan, Ryan was first worried that he was in trouble for having sex with Josie in the library earlier in the week. Instead of being in trouble, Mrs. Sullivan engaged Ryan’s aid in helping Marie embrace her inner slut, engaging in a rather informative and intense threesome. Though a temporary delay, Ryan still remains devoted to finding out Sam’s identity, even if a vague text from Kaitlyn threatens further delays…

***

Someone once told me that the more things change, the more they stay the same. While my studies of history have taught me there’s a certain truth to that on a long enough timeline, in the small scale I’ve found that the more things change, the more they tend to keep changing. This year had been nothing but change for me, and it wasn’t showing any sign of letting up. For all the change that was good, I was grateful. I could’ve done without the bad changes, but aside from the ones that were my own damn fault, the bad came with the territory.

And then there were the changes that were neither bad nor good, but were changes I had to account for anyway, like the moving trucks next door when I got home.

It’d been another long day at school made longer by spending an hour at the Puma Press offices after class so I could get some serious work in on an article. Neither of the two people I wanted to talk to, Tori McNeil or Hope Harris, were in the office like I’d hoped, and though that was frustrating, I was weirdly grateful for it in its own way too. While I wanted to talk to Tori to see if she was ready to talk about the new girl she’d been secretly-but-not-exactly-secretly dating and Hope to make good on her promise of kinky sex and the possibility that she might have information on the identity of my Halloween mystery girl, Sam, having a day where I could just focus on my schoolwork and get ahead in areas that I’d been neglecting lately was welcome.

I even thought this might happen without a hitch when my phone vibrated.

Hope: You never got around to asking your question.

Focusing on my article, I pinched the bridge of my nose, uncertain that this was something I wanted to engage in now. Hope was flirty and loved to talk dirty, and if this kept going it could probably lead to some crazy places. While I would’ve loved to explore some crazy places with Hope, today was not that day.

Me: Sorry. Something came up at the library.

Hope: Don’t worry about it; band practice has been riding my ass lately.

Hope: Rather have something else riding my ass if you catch my drift, but I can’t help that I’m music’s bitch sometimes.

Hope: Anyway, while I’d love to have balıkesir escort you tie me down and have you pleasurably torture the answers you need out of me, I don’t know what my schedule’s gonna be like for a while, so if you got something to ask, ask it.

Me: Thanks.

Me: Met a girl on Halloween, didn’t get a name or face since she was in costume, pretty sure she was in marching band, wonder if you could help me out.

Hope: And by “met” you mean “fucked her silly,” right?

Me:…

Me: Yes.

Hope: Got a picture of her?

I looked for one of the more dressed pictures of Sam and forwarded it to Hope. It was a long time before she responded, and when she did, the answer was short.

Hope: I’ll get back to you.

I could’ve pressed her, maybe even should’ve, but a moment of peace to finish my article was too tempting, so I jumped on it. I got my article in, a damn fine one at that if I’m going to boast, but when I was done I was ready to be done for the day. I was good to get in pajamas, lock myself in and play some games, maybe even watch a movie, or even spend some time with Dad if he was actually in.

Having to emotionally process the moving trucks in the Martinez’s driveway wasn’t exactly something I’d anticipated.

Though I considered just riding up to my house, I took a detour down their driveway. I saw the 60-something Daniel Martinez guiding some of his older, twenty-something sons and a few moving men they’d hired on what furniture went where in one of their trucks. A fat, jovial man with a white beard that would’ve rivaled Santa Claus, Mr. Martinez didn’t do much work himself (likely blaming it on his diabetes, or bad knees, or bad back, or one of the many ailments he’d blame for such things that weren’t nearly that bad), instead balancing on his cane and acting like a very cheery general.

“Hey, Mr. Martinez,” I said.

“Hey, Ryan! Cómo estás?” he asked. Back when I was little and Mr. and Mrs. Martinez used to babysit me all the time, they and some of their younger kids tried teaching me Spanish. It didn’t really take then, though I’d been making up for it since in high school. I wasn’t one of Sra. Lopez’s best students by a long shot (though with the view down her shirt she sometimes gave, I was fond of trying to impress her sometimes), but I did okay. Whenever he saw me, Mr. Martinez liked to throw softball Spanish my way teasingly.

“I’m fine, but… how are you guys?” I said, looking at the moving.

“Getting old’s the short answer,” Mr. Martinez admitted. “Judy needs a new hip and I need to realize I ain’t young like I used to be. So, Judy and me are selling the old place and moving in with my son Diego down in Santa Barbara. Nice weather, and I get to be close to most of my grandkids.”

“Wow,” I said, the thought of the Martinezes moving bittersweet. We were never really close, but they were family in a weird way. More than that, they were one of the few constants I’d had in Regan Hills for the better portion of my life since Mom died.

“What, I thought you’d have been glad to be rid of a bunch of old farts,” Mr. Martinez said, then waving with his cane and barking, “I told you, Juan, those boxes go in the other truck with the rest of the shit! This truck’s for the nice stuff!”

“What nice stuff?” Juan shot back.

Mr. Martinez laughed. “Smartass kids. Gotta love ’em.”

“I’m happy if you guys are gonna be closer to family, it’s just…” I trailed off.

Mr. Martinez put one of his strong, callused hands on my shoulder and squeezed. “I know what it’s just, kiddo. Gonna miss this town too. Especially you and your old man. He even around these days? It’s almost like he don’t exist.”

“He exists, he just has a way of avoiding the plot,” I explained.

Mr. Martinez nodded, knowingly. “Well, if he finds a way of popping in and staying in, we’re not moved out fully yet. Gonna have a barbeque first week of December to kick off the move south, and you guys got an invite. For all the noise we’re gonna make, there’s no way we’re not inviting you.”

He made a fair point. He was also a damn good cook. “I’ll tell Dad, but if he can’t make it, I definitely am.”

Mr. Martinez laughed and clapped me on the back. “That’s what I like to hear!”

Curious, I asked, “You guys sell the place yet?”

“Yeah. Escrow people are still workin’ out all the paperwork and inspections and the like, but it’s basically a done deal. Got a great offer from a single mom with a teen daughter, maybe something for both you and your old man to keep an eye out for, right? Finally get you to bust that cherry of yours?” Mr. Martinez teased.

My love life, or lack thereof until recently, had always been one of Mr. Martinez’s favorite ways of ribbing me. No doubt he’d try to set me up with one of his granddaughters or grandnieces at the barbeque as a way of messing with me. He’d done it before, and I usually stuttered and stumbled and didn’t do shit about it, but I was in a better place bartın escort these days, so who knew?

“I’ll get right on that,” I said, looking at the furniture being moved. “You need any help?”

I was tired enough that I honestly hoped he would say no, and thank god he was something of a mind reader. “Naw, me and my boys and the boys from the Home Depot got it, just so long as- FOR FUCK’S SAKE, JUAN, I WROTE SHIT ON THE BOXES THAT’RE SHIT, IT’S NOT THAT HARD!”

Slowly, I wheeled my bike away. “I’ll go get to my homework then.”

“Do that, kiddo. And don’t forget the barbeque!” he called out.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I replied, walking back home.

The Martinezes were leaving. The Martinezes were leaving, Kyle Bowman was banished, and I suddenly had a lot of friends and all the sex I could’ve dreamed of and then some.

I wondered what else the year had in store.

***

When I was wondering what else the year had in store, finding Kaitlyn Pruitt lying down on my bed and reading my battered copy of Watchmen wasn’t exactly what I had in mind. On her stomach and facing away from me, I was given a perfect view of her luscious body, her beautiful round ass, her long, lithe legs, even the slightest swell of her DD-cup tits pillowing out underneath her. She was dressed in her Regan Hills High Pumas cheerleading outfit, a tight, white, long-sleeved top, a short, blue skirt, and knee-high white socks, her long, silky black hair tied back in a ponytail. From the angle I approached, her skirt was hiked high enough that I could see her matching blue panties. She must have come here directly after practice, but you couldn’t tell that for how pristine she looked.

Tired as I was, it was a look that inspired activity in my pants.

“Lotta blue dick in this book,” she said.

“That’s not exactly the point,” I said, dropping my backpack by the doorway and walking slowly to the bed. “Also, how the hell did you get in here?”

“Your hide-a-key isn’t as well hidden as you think,” she said. Kaitlyn closed Watchmen and put it on the shelf above my bed, sitting up and facing me. Her resting bitch face and sneer had softened considerably since we’d started having sex, though there were still traces on her beautiful, slightly tanned face. Rather than the turnoff they might’ve once been, now I thought they made her even hotter.

“I should really fix that,” I said.

“Why? You don’t like surprises?” Kaitlyn asked.

Thinking of the surprises that had held the better portion of November so far, I said, “Some of them. Not that this is really a surprise, is it?”

“No,” Kaitlyn said.

I’d received a message from Kaitlyn the day before saying she wanted to talk. At the time I took that as her wanting sex, which after my afternoon in the library fucking the librarian, Mrs. Sullivan, and her aide Marie into oblivion just sounded exhausting. I’d texted her back saying we could talk today, and in my infinite wisdom I chose this day as my catch-up day, meaning I’d forgotten entirely until I saw her there on my bed.

“So…” I said, sitting beside her on the bed. “…you wanted to talk?”

“Yes,” Kaitlyn said.

“Like actually talk, or ‘talk,'” I said, not sure which I preferred at the moment.

“Is it really so crazy that I’d actually want to talk with my clothes on?” Kaitlyn asked.

“No, but with us it’s just, you know, a little unexpected,” I said.

Kaitlyn sighed. “So…”

“So?” I asked.

She sighed again. “Look, this isn’t easy saying what I gotta say-“

“Never thought I’d catch you at a loss for words,” I interrupted.

“Oh, fuck off,” she said, standing up, frustrated and running a hand through her hair. “This is all your fucking fault anyway.”

“What is?” I asked.

“These… standards, I’m developing. They suck,” Kaitlyn admitted with the severity of someone who was admitting to a long hidden crime.

“Standards?” I asked, amused at how she said it like a dirty word.

“Don’t remind me,” Kaitlyn said, sitting back down next to me. “I’m a slut. A proud slut. You know it, I know it, everybody knows it, this isn’t news. All it used to take in a guy was a nice smile and a tight ass (or at least a six pack) and I’d fuck him. I’d tally them up just like they’d tally me up, but I always knew I’d held the high ground because I had more marks and fucked more cheerleaders than any guy in school could ever dream. But then I met you. Again. Because we’d met before.”

“Obviously.”

“We started fucking, and at first I was just loving it because I loved your cock and how good you were with your mouth and because Brooke really likes you, and… and I thought it was just that. I didn’t think I was actually getting to like you,” Kaitlyn admitted.

“Like me?” I said, flattered and confused and scared in equal measures. “Like, ‘like me’ like me, or-“

“No, no, not like that,” Kaitlyn interrupted, shaking her head softly. “Not that you wouldn’t probably make good boyfriend material batman escort with some work, but you know me, I know you, we’re not really relationship people right now.”

I wanted to tell her that she was wrong about this, that if a relationship opportunity came along that I’d drop everything for that, but I couldn’t do that. Even though I’d risked some serious trouble lately, I was having too much fun. While I’d have loved the possibility of exploring a serious future with Tori or Josie, I wasn’t there yet, not when Regan Hills High offered so many possibilities that I had yet to explore.

“But… it hasn’t been as easy to be a slut like I like since you and me have been spending so much time together,” Kaitlyn said.

“Really?” I asked.

“Really,” Kaitlyn grumbled, frustrated. “I’ve been seeing the problems for a while now, but a few nights back I was with Aaron Cooper from the basketball team. Him and I had fooled around some before, I’d blown him a few times, let him fingerbang me once. I’d been feeling him out, and he was looking like a good possibility for fucking around with since he had a nice cock, but when I finally decided to go through with it, I couldn’t.”

Kaitlyn not being able to have sex with a guy sounded like a fish trying to live without water. “What happened?”

“He was boring, he was dumb, and he couldn’t talk about much other than basketball or how basketball was taking him to college before he went pro, even though he couldn’t go pro if his life depended on it. A while ago shit like that wouldn’t have bothered me, but since you and me have been spending so much time together, since we’ve been talking and really getting to know each other, it’s just… ugh, I need to be with a guy I can talk with, and that’s seriously cutting down on the pool of fuckable guys in school.”

“Should I be saying sorry?” I asked.

“Probably,” Kaitlyn said. “Probably not. I dunno. I still love fucking, but now that you’ve kind of tricked me into having standards-“

“Hey, I never tricked you into anything!” I interjected.

Kaitlyn shrugged. “You say to-ma-to, I say you tricked me into having standards.”

“That’s-“

“Look, I just needed someone to talk to about it, okay? I’m going through a fucking identity crisis here, and I really want to sort it out,” Kaitlyn said.

My heart went out to her, but if she was looking to me for answers, she was searching in the wrong place.

“So, you came to me because we have sex and talk, and because you’re used to just having sex with guys without much talk, you’re suddenly bored by them?” I asked.

“Yeah,” Kaitlyn said.

“And you think I’ve got some magical answer to all this?” I asked.

“No, but I was hoping… fuck, I don’t know,” Kaitlyn said.

“I’m sorry that you’re stressed, but I’m not sorry that I’ve raised your standards. I find it kinda cool, actually. I didn’t know I counted as higher standards,” I said.

Kaitlyn rolled her eyes, crossing her arms under her breasts petulantly. “You’re not helping.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “But look at it this way. If you’re with a better class of guy, maybe you’ll get a better class of sex out of it. All those guys you were with before who bore the crap out of you now, they can’t all have been that great, right?”

“Some of them were, but…” Kaitlyn trailed off.

“Explore this new side of yourself. Enjoy the fruits of higher standards. Be picky. Have fun!” I said. I shook my head softly when realizing how much like Rachel doling out advice I sounded; that was far from intentional.

Kaitlyn looked up at the ceiling thoughtfully, blowing a stray lock of hair out of her face. “I fucking hate it when you make sense.”

She looked so good, I couldn’t help but lean in and kiss her. “Do you really?”

“Yes,” she said, a little breathy, a little taken off guard. I kissed her again, her soft lips melting against mine as we drew this one out, slower and softer.

“Still?” I proposed as our lips parted, our foreheads resting against one another.

Kaitlyn laughed, smiled even. “You’d be amazed how long I can hold onto a petty grudge.”

“I’d believe that,” I said, my hand sliding between her thighs. Moaning softly in anticipation, she parted them for me, letting my exploring fingers find her secret warmth. I rubbed my fingers around her panty-clad pussy, enjoying the soft sounds of pleasure she made as she held me close.

“Let’s be honest about a couple things,” Kaitlyn moaned. “First, I like what you’re doing. Second, you and I both know that while I like what you’re doing, I’d love something entirely different.”

Knowing exactly what she meant, I kissed her one more time before dropping to my knees on the floor, sliding between her legs. Full of need, Kaitlyn slipped her panties off, spreading her legs and pulling up her cheerleading skirt so I could get a good view of her pussy.

I smiled. “I’d have thought you’d be a little more turned on.”

Kaitlyn blushed. “I really did come here to talk, I wasn’t expecting- FUCK!”

I didn’t set out to cut her off by planting my mouth on her pussy and sucking, but once the idea came to me it was too tempting. When it came to all things sex, Kaitlyn was vocal and loud, aspects of her I absolutely loved.

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

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

I am a landscape gardener and quite good at my job. It’s also a job that pays quite well once you get a bit of a reputation and I was doing all right. Now you’re probably thinking that a landscape gardener would have a terrific garden at his own place, but you’d be wrong. Yes, my place of business has some very nice gardens, but that’s advertising.

My home is situated on a double block, with ample room for landscaping and such. Can you imagine the amount of work involved in something like that? It’d be like coming home from work so I could do some more work. I’d just as soon come home from work so I could rest and take it easy.

This is not to say I ignored my large yard. Ninety percent of it was lawn, the other ten percent being evenly divided between some bushes and some flower gardens. Enough flower gardens to make the place look attractive but few enough to make it easy to maintain them. I had also put a few strategic mounds around the place, the mounds also being covered in grass.

These mounds were a big hit with my nieces and nephews. You could play all sorts of games where they were concerned. It was possible, if you were careful, to go all around the yard artfully hidden by a mound all the way. Of course, my nieces and nephews invited other children around to play in my yard and I had no objection to this. The various kids would even come around when my young relatives weren’t there, treating the place as a park. The parent didn’t mind because they always knew where to find their children.

There was a strict rule that the various visitors did not stuff around with my gardens. I may not have had many but I had some pretty decent flowers in the ones that I did have. The first time someone had tried to stuff up a garden I’d snapped and snarled my way around the yard and all the kids got the message pretty quickly. The gardens were off limits. I didn’t worry about balls going in the garden. The kids were careful about retrieving them.

That was the situation when a new family moved in next door. A man and his wife and twins, about age five. The father, Brian, was in his thirties and a complete asshole. I decided this the first time I met him and nothing I’d seen since had given me reason to change my mind. The mother, Alice, was about twenty five. She seemed a nice friendly woman but I didn’t see much of her, what with her being home looking after the kids all the time.

Brandon and Marie, the twins, were cute and a pair of mischievous little imps. Born for trouble, the pair of them. This isn’t to say they were nasty, just troublesome. They found out about my yard pretty quickly and would often be around there, playing, their own yard being a lot smaller and rather cluttered. I had no objection. I’d made sure they knew the rules about the gardens and let them be.

I heard that Alice had checked with a couple of the parents about me and been assured that I was harmless, so she let them play. She could always stick her head out the window and yell when she wanted them while I tended to ignore them.

That ignoring them came to an abrupt halt one day. I’d finished a job I’d been working on at midday and there wasn’t really anything that I had to start immediately, so I went home. My office knew how to contact me if something came up but it was an unlikely occurrence. I hired my people because they were efficient and could make decisions and do their work without me riding them all the time.

So I arrived home in time to find two evil little cretins busy pulling out every plant from one of my gardens. I was not pleased. Brandon spotted me, nudged Marie, and they both took off running. They damn-well knew they weren’t supposed to rip up the garden and they were making themselves scarce before the heavens fell on them.

They could run and they could hide but it wouldn’t help them much. After all, they lived right next door. I attended to a couple of minor things that I had to do and then headed over to speak to their mother.

I knocked on the door and after a few moments Alice answered it.

“Good afternoon,” I said in a cheerful voice. “Alice, isn’t it? I’m Ken from next door. I’m here to strangle your children so that I can bury them in the remains of my garden. Could you get them for me?”

Alice looked thoughtfully at me, probably wondering how to handle the madman at her front door. I could guess what she was seeing. A strongly built man of about thirty, dark haired and reasonable looking. Reasonably neatly dressed and, most important, I didn’t smell. Women don’t like it if a man smells.

Eventually she sighed and opened the wire door.

“I suppose you’d better come in so we can discuss this,” she said. “Suppose you tell me what you mean about the remains of your garden.”

I explained what had happened afyon escort to my garden, making sure that she knew that the kids knew the rules regarding the garden.

“They knew they’d done the wrong thing,” I told her. “As soon as I arrived they bolted.”

“Mm. Probably to avoid the strangulation and burial in the garden,” Alice observed.

I bowed my head, indicating assent.

“Ah, I assume that you’ve got past the strangulation stage by now?”

“I have,” I said gravely. “I’m down to stringing them up by their thumbs and flogging them, just as soon as I can buy a decent whip.”

“You don’t think that that might be a bit harsh?” she suggested.

“Possibly,” I agreed, “but they sure wouldn’t touch my gardens again.”

She nodded thoughtfully, but then shook her head.

“No. I’m afraid I’ll have to veto that punishment as well. One moment while I call them and see what they have to say.”

She walked over to the doorway and yelled for the little monsters, a note in her voice that said come here or else. They came, looking completely innocent, any possibility of wrong-doing not to be contemplated when looking at them. Then they saw me.

“We didn’t do it,” said Brandon at the same time as Marie yelled, “It was an accident.”

They looked at each other and shut up.

“So you didn’t do it and it was accidental anyway,” said Alice, and the kids nodded cautiously.

They stopped nodding and started looking guilty when Alice started shaking her head.

“We will discuss this later,” she said. “Right now you will go to your room and you will stay there until I come to talk to you. Understand?”

Two little heads nodded and, at a word from their mother, they bolted.

“I am so sorry,” Alice said. “They will be dealt with, I assure you.”

“Well, you can tell them they’re not permitted to use my yard for a fortnight, just as a little extra.”

“Ah, you’re not banning them outright?” she asked surprised.

I shook my head.

“No. Giving them a punishment that they would deliberately ignore would just be encouraging them to do the wrong thing. Giving them a couple of weeks gives them incentive to behave. Mind you, I’m still steaming, but I’m down to putting them over my knee and paddling their tails.”

“That may yet occur after I’ve spoken to them,” she said. “But really, it’s as much my fault as theirs. I’m their mother and I should have been watching them. Perhaps you should be spanking me instead.”

I blinked at that and took another look at her. She was really quite attractive and the clothes she was wearing did nothing to detract from her looks. Yoga pants that showed off a very nice pair of legs, highlighted by a camel-toe that I’d been doing my damnedest not to look at. Her top was a light t-shirt that she filled out very nicely.

“Perhaps I should,” I agreed. “A few smacks to your bottom might teach you to keep a closer eye on them. Of course, I’d have to remove those pants. A spanking for a young woman should always be on a bare bottom, I’m sure you agree.”

Whatever sort of bra she was wearing must have been on the thin side. I could see her nipples peaking, pressing little tents against her top.

“Oh. It has to be on a bare bottom?”

“Indeed. Do you want to remove them or should I?”

“What, you’re really going to spank me?”

“If you take of those pants I will.”

“Um. If I did take them off, how do I know you’ll only spank me? You might be tempted to molest me.”

“You’re kidding, right? Once those pants come off I’ll not only spank you but I will bend you over the end of that couch and educate you in the way a man uses a woman.”

I paused for a moment.

“Instead of just taking off your pants you might as well take off everything. I’d want your top off so I can get at your breasts.”

She looked at me, her face slightly flushed.

“You’re asking me to have sex with you,” she said.

“No. You’re offering to permit me to spank you. I’m just letting you know what will happen after I do.”

“What if I say yes you can spank me but no to the sex?”

I shook my head.

“It doesn’t work that way. If I spank you I would feel honour bound to fuck you afterwards. To console you for the spanking.”

She bit her lip. I think it was to stop herself laughing.

“I’ll tell you what. Why don’t you start getting undressed but leave your panties until the very end. That way you can always change your mind at the last moment.”

Like hell. Once she started getting undressed I’d finish up fucking her and we both knew it. She knew precisely what she was offering when she suggested I should spank her. My only problem was I didn’t know if she was a tease. If I started to remove her clothes aydın escort she might start yelling rape. All I could do was wait. From the smirk on her face she knew it.

In my favour, her nipples were erect, her face was slightly flushed, and she was breathing a little harder. She was excited and wanting. I ran my eyes over her again and then winked.

Finally she shook her head.

“Oh, I couldn’t. I just couldn’t.”

“Pity,” I said. It really was, but I was going to have to accept her decision.

“Aren’t you going to try to persuade me?” she demanded.

“No. I want you,” I said, one hand idly touching my groin where my erection was now noticeable, “but I’m not going to try to seduce you or force you. It wouldn’t be right.”

“Oh, and spanking me and then fucking me is fine?”

“Of course. The spanking is a punishment for sins freely confessed and the fucking just naturally flows on from that. Are you feeling naughty? Do you deserve to be spanked?”

She might not have deserved to be spanked because the kid’s mischief wasn’t really her fault. But she was certainly feeling naughty and wanted to do it.

“Fine,” she said. “But I can change my mind at any moment.”

“Up until the spanking starts,” I conceded.

She was flushed and watching me as she hooked her thumbs into her yoga pants and started pushing them down. They slid down enough until the edge of her panties was exposed and then she hesitated. Her flush was now a vivid blush but she adjusted her grip and took her panties down with the yoga pants, stepping out of them while still facing me, keeping an eye on me to make sure I was still watching. Damn right I was still watching.

She straightened up, facing me, not minding in the slightest that she was giving me a full frontal of her pussy. She was wanting me and she was going to get me. She peeled her top off without the theatrics of the way she lowered her pants but then she went into full tease mode as she took off her bra. She twisted and turned as she groped for the catch of her bra, making sure I was watching everything. Finally she unclipped it and started lowering it, slipping the straps off her shoulders and letting the bra drop down her arms, catching it and adding it to the little pile of clothes.

Now that she was naked she went all demure, hands daintily crossed in front of her pussy, head bowed slightly, not looking at me. A trained slave girl couldn’t have given a better performance of being there for her master’s pleasure.

I moved closer and then walked around her, enjoying the view. Her head twisted as she tried to keep me in sight.

“Very nice,” I said, running a hand over her bottom. “It’s almost a pity to have to spank it. Almost.”

I took her arm and led her over to the couch. Her eyes went wide as I undid my trousers and pushed them down slightly, my erection springing into view. She was going to open her mouth to protest, to point out that she’d only agreed to a spanking, but I got in first.

“The spanking will hurt,” I told her. “You’ll need something to hang on to, to help stand the pain.”

With that I sat, pulling her down and across my knee, placing her hand upon my cock. Her hand closed over it quite willingly, while my hand ran over her bottom.

“Move your legs slightly further apart,” I told her.

“Why?”

“Ah, because I’m telling you to?” I suggested.

That earned me a mutinous sniff but her legs drifted slightly further apart. I now had a good view of her pudenda and it was obvious I wouldn’t need to work too hard to get her aroused. Her labia were already swollen and flushed, her inner lips protruding, waiting to be touched.

It was odd, but I was quite certain that if I tried to take advantage and have sex straight away she’d be terribly insulted and do her best to fight me off. Her reasoning would have been how dare I expect her to have sex with me? But she could justify the spanking and the sex would be allowed to flow naturally from that. I couldn’t help wondering if she’d done this before, but I suspected not. Whether she’d do it again depended on my performance, I guess.

What I wanted to do was place my hand squarely over her mound and start massaging it but I suspected that if I deviated from her unwritten rules things would come to an abrupt halt. Still, I thought I could stretch the meaning of those rules somewhat.

My hand landed gently on her bottom and skimmed over it, moving lightly towards her pussy. I felt her stiffen slightly but, before she could protest, I lifted my hand and brought it down in a firmer spank. Not enough to really sting but enough to let her know I was serious about this. More is coming, was the message.

I kept that up for a while. A gentle pat and stroking of her bottom, ağrı escort easing close to, but never touching, her mound, followed swiftly by a sharper spank. The spanks were getting harder, too, and were now actually stinging her bottom. I decreased the gentle pats and increased the spanks and she was starting to squirm a little.

She gave an outraged squeak when a spank went astray, landing with a sting on her pussy. I apologised, but in such a bland voice that anyone could tell there was a total lack of sincerity in it. (Just as an aside, when my hand actually slapped against her pussy a certain little hand that was still clasping my cock tightened slightly. Now, instead of just holding it, her hand was running over it.)

Her bottom was now developing a nice red glow. I maintained that glow but a few more of my spanks were starting to be a little erratic, warming up her pussy rather than her bottom. She did have the temerity to complain that I should be more careful. This promptly earned her a harder spank with the stern admonishment that I was doing the spanking, not her.

When she meekly accepting this I continued on my merry way, her bottom getting less attention as I started working her pussy a little harder. I developed a regrettable tendency to drag my hand roughly over her pussy whenever a spank landed on it. Strange that I didn’t feel any regrets.

I’m not saying all this attention was getting her aroused and wet, but I would like to point out that my hand was damn near splashing when it landed on her. She was breathing hard and making little whimpering sounds, obviously properly sorry that she hadn’t kept a closer eye on her children. I thought that it was time to forgive her.

I swung Alice to her feet, feeling her finally let go an erection that was as hard as a rock. She stood there looking at me, biting her lip, tears in her eyes.

“It’s all right,” I said soothingly. “It’s all done now. Just relax.”

I slid my hands around her, hands closing lightly over her bottom, softly rubbing it. A little pressure and she was moving closer to me. A little more pressure and she was straddling me and then, with no help from me, she was sinking down onto my cock, sliding onto me with no hesitation and a little groan of relief.

She just sat there straddling me, firmly impaled. Her breasts were right there in front of me, nipples pointing at me. What could I do? I leaned forward and captured a nipple with my mouth. I think she actually sat still on my cock for a couple of minutes while I kissed and tasted her breasts. Finally I lifted my head, my hands closing on her breasts instead. At the same time I pressed my groin up towards her, letting her feel my cock pressing against her.

She took the hint with no delays. Her eyes were half-closed as she started moving, sliding up my pole before hesitating and sinking back down. I did my bit, pushing up to meet her as she came, and she was swiftly proving to be an accomplished pole-dancer.

She wasn’t just aroused and ready. She was eagerly ready, wanting what I had and wanting it now. She bounced happily on my lap, all thought of tears and smarting bottom gone by the way. I sensed that what we were doing was an apology of sorts – I just didn’t know which one of us was apologising. Truth to tell, I didn’t care.

Alice had settled into a rhythm that suited her and I had no complaints. As far as I was concerned in a situation like this, what the woman wants, she gets. We cruised along, passion holding us both firmly in its grip.

Sex is lovely while it lasts but eventually it has to come to an end. Alice had a slightly glazed look in her eyes, completely out of this world apart from what she was doing, but plainly ready for the big bang. I started thrusting upwards faster, hitting her harder, and it didn’t take much to set her off. It didn’t take much to set me off, either, as I climaxed right along with her.

It seemed to me that if I wasn’t careful the next couple of minutes would see everything go to hell real quick. There was no way Alice was going to admit that she’d effectively initiated the spanking and the sex. If I was there she was going to blame it all on me. If I wasn’t she could pretend that it didn’t really happen. So my best bet was to get the hell out of there.

I’d already moved her so she was sitting on the couch. I rose to my feet.

“I’ll leave you to speak to the twins,” I told her. “Remember to tell them that they can’t play in my yard for two weeks. However, if they care to come over on Saturday to help me replant my flowers then I’ll cancel the ban.”

“They wouldn’t have the faintest idea of how to plant flowers,” Alice protested.

“If they show willing, I’ll teach them. I have some bulbs that they should be able to plant with no problems. They can mark where they are and watch them grow.”

With that I took my leave. I suspected that Alice would be there with the kids for the planting. Maybe someone would stuff up and Alice would feel the need to apologise. One could but wait and see.

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I’m coming out of the parking garage into the lobby of my apartment building and I see a good looking girl – well, young woman – standing in front of the elevators. As I come through the door, she turns from the waist up and looks toward me. I guess the sound of the door gets her attention. My immediate thought is, what’s Cameron Diaz doing here? Cameron Diaz, the actress, happens to be the sexiest female on the planet as far as I’m concerned. Slightly tall, slim but with all the curves a woman needs, blue, maybe even green, eyes that always seem almost lit up and excited and a pretty face with a dirty grin. Fuckable. Very, very fuckable.

Just then the elevator doors opened and the girl turns toward them and steps in. I’m only a couple steps away and hurry and she looks out at me, smiling, and uses her hand to hold the door. It isn’t Cameron Diaz. But she’s every bit as fuckable. Same look and smile, same blonde hair cut sort of short, terrific body. But she’s younger, maybe fifteen years younger.

“You must be new here,” I say to her as I’m in and the doors close.

“Yeah, just moved in yesterday. But how do you know?” Great voice. I think I’m falling in love.

“Anyone as gorgeous as you, I’d remember if you had been around longer,” is my reply. She gives a light laugh. “And thanks, for holding the door. I’m Dan, apartment 308.” I’d looked and saw she had the button for 3 pushed. I put my hand out to be shaked.

She smiles again “Cynthia,” she says. “324” and she actually takes my hand.

I hold her hand a moment. The doors open. “You really are gorgeous,” I tell her.

“Well, thanks, I guess,” she says, smiling and looking at our hands. So I let go.

“If you ever need anything. A cup of sugar or something, just come to 308, anything you want. Well, not a cup of sugar now that I think about it, I don’t have any. Splenda, though.”

She gives another small laugh. “Thanks, she says. Maybe I will.” She turns and heads down the hall. I watch her go. Her ass moves from side to side. Maybe the best ass I’ve ever seen. Definitely fuckable. Or at least I hope so.

You see a girl that great, it’s an event. I keep thinking about her. Wondering if I should have said something different. That evening, in the shower, I jerk off thinking about her. It’s not that I’m lacking for sex. Well, I am, actually. Not completely but getting a lot less than I want and with girls that are nowhere near as great as Cynthia.

I’m in sales. Out of college a couple years ago I got a job with two guys that had started up a manufacturers rep firm a couple years before and were growing. It’s great and I’m finally starting to make more than a minimum living, much more actually. So I’m busy. If I have calls in Santa Barbara or the other direction, San Bernardino, I get home a little late. Today, I’m waiting for the elevator in the lobby at around 6:30 pm and when the doors open, there’s Cynthia.

Before I can even say anything, she says, “Hi, Dan,” and steps out, right toward me.

“Hi,Cynthia,” I say, “you may be even more gorgeous today than yesterday.”

She gives a little laugh and grins at me. “Hey,” she says, “I was just going out to eat. I don’t know anything at all about any places near here. Where would be good?”

“Well, L.A. has a thousand good places but right near here, within walking distance, there are only four possibilities. Depends what you prefer. Out the door and to your left you can find a Mexican place and an Italian place. To the right is a fast food burger place and another block down is sort of a family kind of place, a step above a coffee shop.”

“Hum,” she actually says out loud, “well, I’d just as soon have something a little nice, the Italian place sounds best. Thanks.” She’s ready to walk around me.

“Hey,” I blurt out, “I was going to eat in a couple minutes any way. O.k. if I join you?”

She actually smiles at me. Maybe she likes the idea. “Sure, I’d love some company.”

We head to the door, I put my arm on her back as I open the door for her. I want to touch or feel this sexy body as often as possible. We walk the two blocks to the restaurant, talking. I discover she’s from Colorado, graduated from Colorado State in Communications and is now in the second week of her first, full-time, career job. She loves fashion and managed to get a position at the west coast office of a major fashion magazine. Their job is covering Hollywood and it’s people and regional fashions in general and so far her job has been limited to fact checking and going for coffee and sandwiches as needed.

She learns about my job and background. By this time we’re in the restaurant, seated and have ordered. We have a bottle of Chianti to split between us. I end up telling her about me by saying that I really like what I’m doing and it’s turning out even better than I had hoped and I thought I had a very good future. Sipping wine and then taking the first bites of our meal, she starts complaining about her job. ardahan escort She’s not getting to do what she expected she would be doing, she’s treated like someone who knows nothing, her boss is a real bitch and impossible to get along with and she wonders if she should just quit and hunt for something else.

I try to tell her that as the new kid in the office, it’s no surprise that they don’t give her serious work right away. She has to work her way into their confidence and slowly get a little more responsibility handed to her. She agrees that she’s thought of all that but is still very down hearted about things.

I tell her, “I think you need a fuck buddy.”

That gets her attention. She just looks at me for a moment and then her eyes sort of shine and she grins. “What did you just say? A fuck buddy?”

“Yeah, I think you’re frustrated with more than your work. You’re in a new place, don’t have a lot of friends, it’s all a huge adjustment. You need someone that will give you orgasms, make you happy, relieve your stress.”

She just looks at me again, a grin growing on her face. “And I guess you think you’re the one that could do that for me?”

“Well, yeah. You are the sexiest girl I’ve ever known. The greatest body possible. I’d love to do everything possible to your body. I bet you’re delicious. You should be given a couple orgasms before we even get around to actually fucking.”

She actually laughs a little. “You’re so full of it. Has that line ever got you anywhere with anyone?”

“Well, I’m only a couple years older than you. I haven’t had that much sex with that many people, so I’ve never really developed a line, as such. The fuck-buddy idea just came to me because I really think that’s what you need. As for the other, I actually did once have a girl decide immediately that she was ready when I mentioned my giving her oral sex.”

“So you’re suggesting therapy sex. No romance, no loving, no great emotion. Sex sort of like working out a sore leg or something.”

“No, I don’t think it’s possible to have sex without some feeling. I would hope that it would include a lot of emotion, a lot of romance. And you know, I sort of bet that it wouldn’t be all that new to you.”

“What? You’re saying I’ve done something like this before?”

“Well, as gorgeous as you are, I bet you went steady in college for awhile. There are a lot of reasons for going steady, I did it, too, in college. I mean you’re all of a sudden in this big impersonal place and you need to have something central to hold on to, to be part of. But, the sex is also important. At least for me, I think the sex was the most important point of it all. And if it was for you, too, then here you are now in a strange place again and you’re just not gettin’ any.”

By the time I finished my little diatribe she’s grinning at me again. “You’re full of it, Dan, but you’re right. I was a freshman, the first time away from home and this junior seduced me. With my complete cooperation. He was my first. And it was all just the greatest thing ever. Somewhere along the line I did think momentarily about something long term but, honestly, neither of us really expected it to last beyond college. And it didn’t. He graduated and we’ve talked on the phone a couple times, but not for a year or more now.”

“I bet I know but, I’ll ask anyway. What did you do for sex once he was gone?”

“I found another guy and we lasted until I graduated. And I haven’t talked to him since I left there. You’re right. it was just sex. Very, very good sex.”

The waiter brought our bill. “We’re going Dutch aren’t we?” Cynthia asks and pulls out a wallet with some money. I really meant to pay but her money was already there so I took the bill, figured out how much more was owed plus a decent tip and put it down. We both get up and leave. As we walk out the door she says, “You’re a terrific salesman. Are you as good at therapy?”

I actually grabbed her, pulled her around, got my arms around her and kissed her. I could feel that perfect body tight up against me. I slid a hand down onto her ass and she did the same to me, pulling me even tighter against her. Her mouth opened and we traded tongues. The best kiss of my whole life. When she finally pulled her head back a little she says, “Not out here. We should move into a bedroom.”

We start back. I have my arm around her and she has hers around my waist. This is all unbelievable, like a dream come true. “Cynthia,” I tell her, “I really wasn’t trying to talk you into anything you don’t want to do. It’s just that I’ve wanted you since the first time I saw you.”

“Dan, yesterday I was standing staring at the elevator doors, tired and pissed off and thinking to myself that I really, really needed to get laid. Needed a lovely, erect cock. Then I turned and saw you. You’re tall and slim and nice looking and I was ready to attack you. Then you said if I needed anything to come to 308 and back in my room I thought artvin escort about knocking on your door and asking to borrow the use of your cock but I wasn’t quite willing to be that much of a slut. So when I met you again and we went to eat, you had me almost no matter what you said. But I loved what you were saying. It made it so easy for me.”

“No wonder you didn’t get mad at me but kept grinning about almost everything I said.” Then we stop and hug each other and we kiss some more and feel each other and then turn and hurry into the apartment building.

Into the elevator and before the doors actually close, she’s unzipping my fly and reaching in. Her hand searches around to get through my underwear and then she has her hand around my cock. My very erect cock. She looks at me and gives me a dirty grin. She reaches up to pull my head down to kiss me, still holding my cock, squeezing it. The doors open and she pulls me along, using my cock as her grasp on me, down the hall to her apartment. She murmurs a “shit” as she has to let go of me to get her keys out, then we go in and she pushes the door shut behind us. There is no furniture in her living room. Not one chair or table. As I look around, she kneels on the floor and starts unfastening my belt, then my pants. She grasps the waist band and pulls both my pants and boxers down . As they drop onto my feet, still in my socks and shoes, She has hold of my cock again. “Oh, Dan,” she says, “this is so good.” She starts licking along the sides and then gets her mouth over the head and starts sucking me in. She keeps one hand holding the base for a moment and starts playing with my testicles with the other. As she gets most of me in her mouth, she lets go and reaches around to hold my ass and pulls it towards her. I can feel her moaning or humming or something as she licks and sucks.

I look around. This is one sexy time. The girl of my dreams is sucking my cock and playing with my balls. But it’s also surreal. I’m standing in a completely empty room, my pants around my ankles so I can hardly move. The only thing to do is enjoy it because I know I’m not going to last long. And I don’t. I doubt if she sucks more than three minutes and I’m shooting into her mouth. She pulls her head back some, keeping just the head in her mouth. I give her enough that I know she has to be swallowing because her mouth can’t be big enough to hold it all. I finally squirt out a last little dribble and she pulls her mouth off and sort of stares at my cock, then takes it back into her mouth and slowly milks it with her lips, sucking out anything that’s left.

“You have a great cock, Dan,” she says. “I hope I get to do that a lot.” She stands up, holding my bare butt. “Your turn now,” she says and turns and heads into what I know is the bedroom. Her apartment is a duplicate of mine as far as layout goes. I have to sit down or else I’ll fall. I untie my shoes, get them off, pull my socks off, then manage to step out of my pants and underwear that I just leave there in a pile and follow her as quick as I can.

In the bedroom she has a double bed. Not Queen or King. And a small, Ikea modern chest of drawers. That’s it. Still moving in. But the real sight was her. Naked. Leaning over the bed, pulling the comforter and top sheet down. I’ve never seen anything sexier, maybe never will. “You’re even more gorgeous naked,” I say to her and get my arms around her and pull her against me to kiss her. She turns her head slightly.

“Kiss me, now?” she asks.

“Definitely, you’re just so beautiful and desirable, I can hardly stand it.”

“But my mouth still has some of you in it.”

I take my hand and turn her head and kiss her, push my tongue into her. She puts her arms around me and we kiss and kiss and lick each other and hold on tight. “Sucking me just makes you even sexier,” I say to her and back us up until she’s against the bed. I push her to sit on the bed and kneel in front of her, pushing her knees apart to get up against her. I kiss her again and it may be the best kiss yet. I’ve never felt so turned on before in my life. I start kissing her shoulders, move my hands to her breasts and then slump down a little to get my mouth to her breasts. I kiss and lick and suck her nipples and fondle those amazing breasts. I could spen a lot of time on them, they’re perfect. But, I kiss down over her stomach and she lays back some and spreads her legs. This has happened to me before. Girls can spread their legs a lot more than guys can. It almost seems a physical impossibility.

There’s her pussy. Blonde hair. Really blonde, light yellow. All above her pussy, not down the lips. The hair on her head is real, I bet Cameron Diaz’s isn’t. And her pussy. Pink, puffy, really beautiful. I kiss it. I turn my head and kiss her upper thighs. Firm, meaty, no fat. Most girls thighs are flabbier from my experience. I use my fingers to pull her open slightly and get my tongue into her and lick up and down. I can’t bodrum escort describe the taste. Sex. It’s what sex must taste like. Better than the best steak.

She’s making little noises. I look up at her and she’s leaning back on her arms looking down at me. “You’re so beautiful. The sexiest, tastiest, most beautiful pussy in the world.” I get my tongue back in her and start doing everything I can think of. I do the alphabet thing. I push my tongue into her vagina. I lick up a little and flick my tongue on her clit, little more than a bump. Her insides are getting a little juicier, her hips bounce a little as I touch her clit with my tongue. She makes slightly louder noises. Not words or moans, just some primeval, guttural, involuntary sounds of pleasure.

I’m going to eat her forever. I’ve never felt as strongly about this before. I would like to almost crawl in and live there. I want to keep tasting her and tasting her and driving her nuts. She keeps getting juicier, she’s shoving her hips more at me, wants me there. Her one hand is holding my head, mussing my hair and then pushing me into her more, then letting up a little. I slide a finger into her and get my lips around her clit. More than a bump now, it’s sticking it’s head up a little. I suck on it some and pull my finger out and put another next to it and push both back into her. I suck on her clit, flick it with my tongue, slide my fingers in and out, and she starts yelling, Her hips jump even more, She lets go of my head but her legs close around me and hold me tight and I can feel her orgasming, emitting fluid. I slide my face down as much as I can, trapped in there, and try and lick up everything I can.

Her legs release me, she lays back as if exhausted. I start licking up and down inside her again. “Oh my god, more?” she asks. “I’m not sure I can.” I keep on licking, softly, just enjoying her shape and taste. I shove my tongue into her vagina. I don’t even need to hold her open, her pussy is engorged, spread, all available. I lick her lips and then back inside her. She’s making small noises again. I’ve never done this before. Keep on licking after she’s cum. I realize, I just want to. It’s no great plan or anything, I just love licking her, eating her. I start through the alphabet again with my tongue, tasting her, feeling the shape and the softness/firmness/juiciness of her. She just lays back and makes her small noises. Sounds that seems to me means she’s enjoying this. I have no idea of time. It’s comfortable, kneeling here; she seems comfortable, even though her legs are almost into a split. And we both seem to like it. More, really. Love it. I don’t know her well enough to know how we’ll get along but I know I love her pussy. I love her body.

I get my tongue back up to her clit and start working on it. It’s actually sort of a little penis now, easy to grab with my lips, hit with my tongue. I slide a couple fingers into her again. Her noises start getting louder,. Her very juicy, tasty pussy gets even juicier. Her hand comes back down onto my head. Her body moves slightly, her hips sort of jump. I just keep finger fucking her and sucking her clit and she starts howling. Her hand pushes me in tight, her legs come up around me again, and I can feel fluid on my fingers. Again, I pull them out and move my head down as much as I can to try and suck her whole pussy into my mouth and taste what she’s emitting. Sexy. Sexy. Sexy.

She essentially collapses again and I push up on my knees and get my very, very erect cock aimed at her and start pushing into her. “God yes.” she says loudly, “Fuck me. fuck me.” She’s so tight it almoast hurts Then I’m fully into her and start pushing her further onto the bed so that I can get a knee up and then the other and get over her. I want to kiss her with my cock in her. And we do. Her arms come up around me, her legs come up and her heels dig into my butt and I pull out and push in over and over. Since I’d already cum when she sucked me, I knew I would last a little. I started working harder, moving faster and pounding into her. She’s making those same guttural noises. Not exactly ughs and not exactly just heavy breathing, almost like the grunts some women make playing top level tennis.

Her eyes are scrunched shut, her face almost in a grimace. She’s concentrating everything on the feel of our fucking. Her feet come off me and she gets them on the bed and starts pushing her hips back up at me, fucking me almost as much as I’m fucking her. Then she screams, her body stiffens, I can feel fluid around my cock. and she collapses again. Her eyes look up at me and she gets this smile on her face. “Dan, you’re a miracle.” She puts her hand on my head and pulls it down and we kiss. It’s not a soft, friendly kiss, it’s hot and urgent. I move my head to the side and kiss her neck. “You haven’t cum,” she says.

“No,” I reply, and move my hips to move my cock inside her.

“Let me on top. I’ll make you cum,” she says, then grins at me. I pull out completely, lift up some and move to the side and lay down, scrunching around until I’m on my back. She climbs up over me, her hands on my chest, gets above my cock and reaches with one hand to hold me up and she starts sliding her pussy down over me.

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