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Boundaries

By: Rags



Why am I here? 

I don't mean that in an existensional Nirvana seeking, Kobain forgoing, jolly fat man rubbing, onion peeling search for personal growth kind of way. I mean that in a... "Just what the explerative deleted censored edited for public consumption, am I doing here, in this particular place?"... kinda way. We had discussed this before, a boundary set so to speak. Both of us had agreed, hugged and moved on to the more intimate affairs of the night. 

Still, it's hard to ignore the basics of our initial agreement or it being up to your interpretation. It's not so much the fine print, as the bold All-caps italicized and underlined print that has me in my current position. The party of the first part, being me, will be to the party of the second part, that being you... an object, a toy, a slave, a pet, a prey, a whore, a slut, a rag-doll, an atomically correct Ken, a little puppet, a piece of furniture, a piece of meat, a soaker of juices, a loufa sponge, a... the list goes on like that for several pages. The gist is I am yours, as you well know. I can't really argue after I've signed with "for whenever, whatever, however and whomever you want, your willing, eager toy," as a post script in my own handwriting. 

Sigh, it's not like I'm regretting that either. It's just, Mistress, you and I TALKED about this. Still, how can I complain? It was my own request that pushed me over the fence. 

It seemed a simple enough comment to make, you certainly weren't in one of your crueler moods. To be honest, you were still half asleep, eating Cocoa Puffs in a white tank top and sweat pants. Yawning and stretching, rubbing at recently loosened straps, I had absently tugged at a black leather studded collar as we grunted our good mornings. 

I had begun filling my own bowl up with Captain Crunch. The night before, this morning had been deemed a time of rest and relaxation. I was honestly a bit thankful for the reprieve. Our relationship is the Mind-Bending Cannon-Balling Screaming Meamie roller coaster I love best, but sometimes it's nice to get some solid food into your system before the next loop de loop. It wouldn't be a very long respite though, my Mistress was off work tomorrow, to be followed by the drudgery of a highly caffinated stressmatic work week. This would be our last full night together for some time and I knew you planned on squeezing it... and me... dry. 

I was just getting ready to enjoy my crunchitized balanced breakfast when you asked me, innocently enough if there was something wrong. I smiled, at you, errant milk running now my goatee and commented, off handedly. "Nah, everything is fine. Just, this collar doesn't fit right that's all." 

Setting your bowl down, you got up and suddenly invaded my territorial bubble. Nothing unusual about that, it was, after all, long since conquered territory and the Queen may stroll through her colony at her leisure. You finished up a last bit of unchewed puff and tugged on the leather, unsnapping it and examining the red and swollen flesh it left in it's wake. "Hmmm, that's no good. You wear this much longer and it's going to sore and probably get infected." 

I stood there, straight, trying not to spill my bowl as you flooded my senses yet again. I never can get used to it, never can take it for granted. I'm like a grade school youth in the hairy grip of puberty, being tended to by the newest, youngest school nurse. From a boyhood perspective, acres and acres of sexual frustration, tending to your every need with a kind, sympathetic manner. Lost in the fantasy, I barely registered your question. 

Luckily, the survival instincts of a toy in training kicked in and I pieced it together quickly enough. You stood there, your warm breath on my boo boo driving me to distraction waiting for the answer to your question. I nodded, smiling. "Sure, we can go get a new one if you want." 

I nearly fainted when your eyes began to glitter. 

And so, here I am. Standing in an Adult Toy Store like I used to stand in K-mart while my mother searched for Husky jeans for her overweight son. A young female sales clerk giggled as she walked by, pausing just long enough to nod a greeting to you. Of course they know you here. The store specializes in a particular sort of clientele. There are no men here. Well, none except that really nervous looking gentleman in the back, feeling quite overwhelmed as dildo's stretch and buzz and quiver as far as the eye can see. 

Oh and I forgot... ME. I'm here too. I idly wonder if the other man is homosexual and shopping for himself, or if he has a wife at home and has an itching to surprise her with a seven inch, five speed, lavender rubber shaft of love. I'm brought out of the muse by your voice. 

"I'm going to have to try some of these out. Shirley, can you open the umm... changing room?" A large woman that must look a sight in black and spikes when her urges hit nods and gives me an appraising look. By the time she's done, I have to wonder if she's correctly guesstimated the weight of my testicles and peak length of my erection. 

I stand there, burning for a moment, red running from forehead to feet, like an unstoppable emotional fever. THIS is the boundary we've broken, the uncharted territory we're running the blockade for. Only Mistress's come here, both amateur and professional. Sure, anyone CAN come, and often do. To peruse or on accidental tour. Most leave with pale faces, or simply disappointed. 

There's no pornography to speak of here, no dolls, no realistic feeling latex vaginas with kiwi banana berry flavored lubricant included. Here, it's a very much, make your OWN fun, sort of establishments. Harnesses, leather accessories, whips, chains, dildos; both hands on and strap-on affairs; line the walls. Everything a Mistress might need and a pet might fear. 

I suppose a Master might find a home here as well, but I somehow doubt it. Everything is fitted wrong for a male to be really comfortable. The leather outfits are definitely of feminine proportions and shapes, even if they come in a wide range of sizes. All the restraints seem geared toward humbling something larger and more massive then the one doing the restraining. Somehow, I know a male Master that walked into this store would leave quickly, with a very hunted expression on his face. 

Only a Mistress would really feel comfortable here, only a Mistress would brush through leather chaps and nine tailed punishment with such a hungry look on her face. Therefore, only a boy-toy would be by her side, looking at everything with equal parts wince and wow. The women know, the young girl tagging crotchless panties, she knows. Shirley whose looking at me even more impatiently, she knows. 

Everyone in here knows, with the possible exception of the guy gingerly picking up a pink French tickler and looking aghast. And thus, have you herded me beyond myself, once more. I am known, known for the world to see. Alright, for a select few that I'll probably never see again, but it's still a step beyond where I'd ever thought I'd be. 

Suddenly I realize not only am I known but if I don't hustle my buns, I'll be in trouble as well. Trying to appear nonchalant as I move past vinyl bustiers and padded thumb cuffs, I slide to your side, waiting patiently on Shirley who fumbles with some keys. 

She gives me that knowing look, as though to reset my shame kettle to boil before leaving me to you. I look into your eyes and I know you know too. They shimmer once more as you gesture me forward into a small cramped room with a wide stool and a mirror. You grin, giving your lips a lick and ask, with just a hint of tease, "Something wrong my toy?" 

I sigh, closing my eyes, focusing on settling frayed nerves and near molten epidermis. "I'm just a bit... uncomfortable, Mistress, that's all. Nothing to worry about, it'll all be over soon enough." 

The smile you direct at me nearly makes me swallow my tongue, to say nothing of my heart. "Oh dear, sweet, lovable pet, it's just beginning. Shirley?" The last was said with a slightly raised voice and has the older woman sticking her head into our ever enclosing room. "I think I'm ready to pick up those toys I've been letting sit in your store for ever so long. Get the girls and have them start brining things in, one at a time, for testing. I don't want a repeat of that collar." 

Shirley grumps, "I TOLD you it was too small, I mean look at the boy. You ought to think about putting him on a diet or something." 

My Mistress is ever so lovely when she bares her teeth. "I think I'll manage him fine without input, dear. He's on a rather strict and exhausting work out program as it is, something you might consider yourself. Now then, the toys?" 

I know better then to comment or even smile at this point. I forgive the collar you bought to lure me in here. I even forgive the toys you must had picked out ages ago when you first worked this out. I forgive everything for the look on Shirley's face. Of course I swallow that mirth quickly enough when the first young girl walks in with a selection of multicolored crops. 

Shirley seems to nod to herself as her composure is easily regained watching the look on MY face. It must have been a sight as I try to figure out just HOW you are going to test such things out. She never even blinks as you begin fumbling with my belt, though the younger girl starts going red and has to fight a giggle. 

You pause just long enough to look up at me and say, "A little help?" 

What can I do? I pull my pants down, bare my buttocks and lean on the stool as instructed. I don't know if it was watching the mixed reactions of the crowd, or the sting of whip against flesh that makes me wince more. Rubbing the area, discussing the red mark with Shirley, you got another crop and try a different cheek. 

I feel like a cauldron, being stirred by the virgin, the mother and the crone. The young virgin stifles smiles and her own flush while still trying to hold onto her selection. Meanwhile my Mistress, the mother, debates with Shirley, the crone, over what leaves the best impression on the canvas of my ass. 

I toil and trouble there for what seems like forever before one young woman is sent away... only to be replaced by another. 

How long this goes on, I can't even begin to tell. Time loses meaning as my submission is put on display, like a new store model at a car show. We test everything from dildos to nine tails to collars to cuffs to indefinable bits of rubber and mesh to masks to.... It becomes a blur as my doors are slammed and my tires are kicked over and over again, all for a live studio audience. 

Finally, sweating, panting, gasping for breath and for an end, you walk over to me in newly acquired heels and tug my head up with a rough grip on my hair. For just a moment, I find refuge in chocolate mocha eyes that mirror my own, but just for a moment. "The new strap-on." 

I swear Shirley's eyes were glowing at that moment as she nods, letting the first girl from before in with something black and wide and stiff. Cynthia was her name... right? It's hard to remember, especially with my thoughts drifting over something so, disconcerting. It's a hard thing to swallow, let alone what you intend to do with it. 

Still, used and ragged, I lay there, waiting for the inevitable. 

"Everyone else out," you say. My heroine, dressed in squeaky new leather, you place your hands on your hips as you wait to be obeyed. Shirley shoos the other girls out of the room and the doorway where they have been watching my reflection for some time and pauses just long enough to give me an encouraging smile before leaving. 

I hear the door click shut and watch you through the reversed world of the mirror as you stand there, looking at me, watching me. You walk over and lick a tear off my face, and then another from the other side. "Your embarrassment is something we can share, share with other people, people I know and love and trust. In that way, they are a part of our family now. But... but your agony is for your Mistress alone." 

I can barely even whimper. 

I flinch as I hear a zipper zip and close my eyes, waiting. Then I feel wet fabric against my lips. Actually, that's out of order, I smell it first, taste it. Even in your hands, a foot away from me, I can sense your wetness, your soaked panties. They're so wet now, they're virtually rags. Automatically I open my mouth and accept them, the first moisture I've had all day. I suck on them noisily as you walk behind and begin to work the attachment, fitting the black mass of rubber in place. 

The smell of strawberries fills the enclosed area as you spread an extra thick coat of lubricant on the new toy. For me, it's just flavoring, I can barely smell it with the full blown fragrance of your sex so completely overwhelming my senses. I barely hear your words of comfort, so odd to hear them before as opposed to afterwards. Then you begin working my rectum with a gloved finger. 

Four more slip in before your satisfied, leaving the hole as dilated as it's likely to become and beads of fresh sweat on my forehead. I close my eyes, and continue to suck your panties dry of you and wet with myself as I wait. It starts with the pressure, then moves to a burning, then stumbles into agony. 

By the time the head of the new accessory pops inside, I can taste blood. Body quivering, sweat sheening, eyes blinded by stars and multicolored popping lights, I feel you sink another inch inside. I shudder under your weight as you rest against me, a bit worse for wear yourself. But like a glacial event, you can't be stopped once you've started. 

You get up, steady yourself with hands firmly, roughly, lovingly squeezing my butt, before sinking in again. The sounds of the rubber stretching flesh, plunging depths never plunged so well, seems to rumble like thunder in the room. You only grunt with the difficulty of this reverse labor, while I scream... hoarsely with throat soaked in your juices and oral opening stoppered with your panties. 

By the time your body is flush against mine, I swear I'm going to come apart at the seams. I hear you humming softly to yourself, a hand running through my hair from behind. I arch my neck and back for you, not enough though as you take a firm grip and seemingly try to bend me over backwards... just before you begin to slip out. 

Then you slip in... *grunt* 

Then you slip out... *groan* 

Then you slip in... *grunt* 

Then... you speed up. 

Somewhere in all that, a woman and man scream, voices harmonizing in frantic, heated discord. 

I'm not sure, but I think it was us. 

By the time the door opens, I'm wrapped in your overcoat, shuddering, sniffling and leaning on your for support. My pants are in a bag you've stuffed with the toys we'll be taking home. It will be awhile before I sit down without a wince. A reminder I'll suppose, later when I'm thinking in coherent sentences, during the long absence ahead. 

The younger girls just watch, Cynthia even moves forward when, pale and breathless, I almost collapse. Your expression warns her away. "Mine!" You almost hiss. You walk me the rest of the way out, not even a word for Shirley who seems suddenly very interested in a new shipment of ball gags. 

Later, I'm laying on your bed, half asleep, my body vibrating, still pulsating from punishment, while my mind reels in a warm comfort. I replay your words, both before and afterwards as you cooed comfort all the way to the apartment. Even more so, a hissed exclamation of ownership warms me in ways I could never explain to anyone not in my... *ahem* position. 

Mine! 

I sigh softly, taking notice of your shadowy form as you walk into the darkened room. Oh yes, the rest of the night, I'm still yours. Whenever and whatever and... yes, I'm still very much yours. "What is your pleasure tonight, Jen? What is your command Mistress? What is your wish, Goddess?" 

You stand there, looking at me, devouring me. I can't see your eyes, but I can feel my flesh and soul being picked clean. Then, "Lay there, just... lay." 

I feel the bed shift as you get on at the end, away from me, your back against wall. Then, your feet are on my back. I can smell the nylons, feel the satin of their touch, as you begin to stroke, making circles with your toes and curling them where my muscles are knots. 

It is a fantasy I've shared with you, but never seemed right given our roles. A pleasure I set aside for others, a soft, simple almost vanilla pleasure that hardly seems to count for much given the intensity of our sessions. A boundary between relationships from one sort of fantasy and another. And yet, I begin to melt into a complete and utter blissful pudding. 

I suppose it's the closest thing a Mistress can give to an apology. NO! That's one boundary that must never be crossed, it negates the whole purpose of the role. You must take me where and when you feel I'm ready, without regret or remorse. This is just another place you've decided to take me, another unexpected journey I've made this evening. 

"Can you... turn over, sweetling?" 

I nod. It causes me more pain then I thought it would, but that's easily forgotten when your hosiery clad feet begin a steady, slow massage over my penis. Oh Goddess, just when I think I'm bound as tight as a parcel can be, you find a place for a ribbon and a bow. 

That night we both come again, softly this time, but no less hard. 

The next morning I walk into the same store proudly. I give a dreamy smile to Shirley as I explain a certain lavender dildo had caught your eye yesterday and I had been sent to retrieve it. She scoffs and smirks, "I doubt she needs one boy, chances are, she'll be giving it to you, with commands on it's use." 

I shrug and grin, "Whatever and whenever." Then I walk proudly to the row of motorized mayhem that had so unnerved my fellow male just the day before. While I'm messing around, going so far as to price shop and check for features, I feel a gentle tap at my shoulder. 

I turn to see Cynthia there, once again, trying to suppress a grin and giggle that wants to eat her body and soul. I smile, not caring what she thinks, not with the day I'm having, certainly not with the night I've had. Instead, as though to remind this poor dumb male that I should NEVER get smug enough to think I have some special, profound insight into the female psyche, she hands me a card. 

It's off pink, smells of roses and has a phone number printed on one side. I stare at it dumbly for a few moments, and then grin. "I'll be sure the Mistress gets it, Cynthia, right?" 

Cynthia blushes, then shakes her head, "It's for you... just you." 

I stand there, pole axed and then slowly, offer the card back. "Then I'd be even MORE sure she got it Cynthia, haven't you heard? I'm hers." 

Now it's her turn to look in wonder, as though trying to piece me together, a task only one person I've met has ever managed. A person that's likely wondering what's taking me so long getting home with a simple dildo. Finally, she nods, taking the card and sliding it into my jacket pocket. "Then that's what you should do." 

I nearly fainted, then and there. I wonder if I'll ever come close enough to understanding the species, let alone another gender. I should probably throw the card away. I mean, honestly, another woman? Not another Mistress, but likely, another pet? 

Picking up the dildo, I make my purchase and then my way home, the card snuggly in my jacket. Another boundary I suppose. But then, it's not my job to determine when and where they'll be tested and overcome. 

That's what a Mistress is for. 

End

For my Mistress, currently looking for boundaries new.

Boundaries



Hi everyone! This is my first story. So feedback would be amazing!

I wrote this for a friend of mine on a dare, of sorts, and she told me I should post it here to see what people think.

It is, unfortunately, a work of fiction. 

*

You want this.

I don't know if you did when we began. In truth, I suspect that the flirting, the dancing, even the kiss was as much meant for the crowd of encouraging boys as it was for me. But on the dance floor, my fingertips brushing the exposed strip at the small of your back, my knee gently parting your own, your focus changed. It became about us.

And so, with you lying on my bed, shirt and bra discarded somewhere downstairs. I am emboldened.

It is more then that. Straddling your hips, my skirt gone, sheer panties and the flesh underneath pressing against the cool metal of your belt buckle, I feel something new. To my eyes comes a cold light and to my lips comes a wry smile. It is an expression I have seen on others in the past. On boys, before they pin my hands above my head and bear down on me with new force, basking in their domination just as I revel in my submission.

You see it too. I can tell because you take the same bracing breath that I would. Then you look back up at me, your expression inquisitive. I know you struggle to keep the eye contact, I've felt the same.

"I want this" you whisper. And though it takes me by surprise, that we've just communicated so much, I cannot let it show. I will not lose my control in the instant it is given.

A knot forms in my stomach. A ball of nervous anticipation in response to your gift of submission. My options are to many to count. They overwhelm and excite me, but my body takes the first steps of its own accord. My fingers move up your sides, tickling over the speed-bumps of your ribs and tracing the outer contours of your breasts. They are smaller then mine, yet pale and perfectly formed; topped with small pink nipples. I want to tell you that I love them, I want to squeeze and paw at your body, but I cannot lose my control. And so my hands move further up, to your wrists. With both hands I position your left arm above your head. You hold yourself immeasurably still as I fumble with my stockings. 

You sigh as I pull my discarded garments into a tight knot which binds your wrist to my bed-frame, it is the sound of release.

I cannot explain why, but I'm not ready to bind your other wrist yet. So I slide down your body; pressing my breasts against yours as I go, imagining how my shirt must feel rubbing across your nipples. And, when the position is right I deftly unclasp your belt, hook my fingers into your waistband, and slide your jeans and panties off of you in one smooth motion. The sound you make, a soft coo, is perfect.

As I stand above you, your pants dangling from my grip, my plan is to bind your other wrist with your jeans. But standing on top of the bed makes me feel tall. Maybe more importantly, standing above your truly naked body makes me feel... dangerous. I drink it in, expecting to see fear in your eyes when I meet them from my vantage point on high. But you have no idea of my shift in temperament and you look back at me with the same nervous excitement as before. My excitement grows.

Now, I straddle your chest. Above your breasts, where I can levy my weight upon your very breath. I think now, that you see the intoxicating effect the control has had on me. It is, of course, too late.

With both hands I pull your unbound wrist into position, watching your eyes for the precious moment when you glean my plan. Too my delight it comes as soon as I take a fistful of your long hair.

"No!" It is neither a command nor a request. It is an expression of disbelief.

I fight your unbound hand, pressing it flat against the bed and wrapping your hair tightly around its wrist. And as I pull the knot tight, trapping your appendage in a tangled mass of curls, I bend forward to whisper in your ear, "you want this."

There is a pause. I know you are trying to decide whether to speak out. To demand that I release you. Are you also wondering if I even will?

In the end, it falls to me to make the next move. You let me untie your other hand and bind it with your hair without protest. When the dead is done we both realize that the point of no return has passed. I am ecstatic. You, are terrified.

I want to examine you, my prize. It seems, in my frame of mind, the only logical thing to do. So I position myself kneeling between your legs. At first a part of me is worried that you will judge me, as my eyes roam your curves. But the feeling passes, to be replaced by some perverted glee, as my inspection brings a blush to your cheeks.

Your are gorgeous. You are thin, in that way that we all tell ourselves we don't have to be but secretly wish we were. Your collarbone and hipbones cast sharp pronounced shadows on pale skin. I notice that your lips are the same shade of pink as your nipples, the color of a newborn mouse. I examine your green eyes aggressively, and it seems that you cannot meat mine for more then a few seconds at a time. 

During my examination, I never touch.

Eventually, I become curious of your most intimate places. As pragmatically as I can manage, I place both my hands under your knees, bend your legs, and lift them up and out. As your sexual core opens to my view you whimper your shame. Are you not aware that this is only encouragement?

I feast my eyes on your sex. I imagine that my gaze, like a skilled lover's fingers, tickles at your folds. You are bare, except for a pencil thin strip of hair just above your mound. But what I notice first, is that you are wet. As I move you legs into position a drop leaks from your pussy. It slides lazily across the skin below and vanishes from my view. You stiffen as it runs its course.

My inspection is, again, lazy. Truth be told I am surprised that I find your pussy so beautiful. I remember, as I stripped off your shirt earlier this evening we told each other in unison "I've never done this before." Your pussy is slick, and pink like the other private parts of you. Your outer labia are small, almost nonexistent. I imagine that you were sculpted from clay. And that, at the very end, the artist drew his little finger across your mound to make the perfect gash where your sex resides.

I worry that you are becoming used to being on display for me. But no girl could fight back the blush that colors your breasts as I press your knees to your body, pulling your backside from the bed and exposing its hidden rosebud to my view. Your bottom is well muscled and round, even in this odd position, but I am not looking at your contours. As pervy as it sounds, I am mesmerized by your but hole. That part of anatomy which I have always shielded from my bed-mate's view is, for me, freely on display. I imagine what I would be feeling if a boy lay me on my stomach and pulled apart my cheeks to inspect that secret skin. In a way it excites me, as I hope it does to you right now. 

Like the rest of your intimate places, this one looks pink and new.

When the tip of my tongue touches your skin, just below your rosebud, I am disappointed that you make no noise. But, as I delicately lick across the puckered skin of your asshole, experiencing the unfamiliar texture and probing lightly at its divited center, I feel your shudders. This is more intimate than any vocal response.

As my tongue's stroke wets the skin between your two holes you shift your weight and press into me. But though I am pleased by your eagerness, I cannot give you what you want. Not yet. So I lift my tongue from your skin and pull away, the sweet smell of your sex in my nostrils.

I let your legs back down and stand up on the bed again. I strike a pose, hands on my hips, and look down at you. It amazes me how vulnerable you look, hands tied up in your hair. Fastened to nothing, yet held immobile by the pain and impossibility of moving your wrists. You look up at me, and there is lust in your gaze.

You realize your mistake right away. I have to put you in your place now, to reawaken the fear which tantalizes some dark part of me. I feel you watching me as I hop off the bed and go to my dresser. On the way I step out of my panties. They are damp with my own juices.

From my dresser I retrieve a gag gift that I never truly expected to use. It is, in most cases, the most absurd of sex toys; a black double sided dildo. It is pliant, thick, and as anatomically correct as a two headed penis can be. Your eyes go wide when I show it to you. Cleverly, you ask no questions about why I have it.

The dildo is not freakishly long. I imagine that if we were to use it for its intended purpose our sexes would rub against each other freely. But the makers of the toy probably didn't have my intended scenario in mind.

I kneel over your chest again and immediately your eyes are drawn to my now exposed pussy. "Darling," I say in a gentle voice "you don't want to make me uncomfortable." You look away, but I know you will sneak glances when you can. I would do the same.

Now I hold the sizable toy in front of me in two hands, as though it was a steak to stab through your heart. But instead of a sharp final thrust through your rib cage, the dildo makes a slow descent towards your mouth. "Open up!" I coo.

You comply. Not that you have a choice. I find it adorable how you stick your tongue out just a little bit, providing a gentle guide for the violent intruder. I bet the boys love that.

I press the dildo further into your mouth. Your lips close around the shaft once the flared head has cleared them. Your eyes, not locked with mine, are asking a very clear question... how much more? In answer, I only smile, and begin a slow but firm pistoning of the dildo. Each stroke presses a little further towards the back of your throat, until I finally feel the bump of solid resistance.

Here I hold the rubber penis, bearing down with enough weight to prevent you throwing me off. Because you are fighting me now, tears welling up in your eyes, hands pulling feebly at the tangle of hairs holding them in place. But I know you are not in danger. Soon you realize it too, as you open your mouth wide and deliberately suck in air around the intruder's girth. 

But the second phase of this habituation catches you off guard. And I ride you again as you gag and thrash. In the end, you lie still, looking up at me with wet eyes and taking ragged breaths around my cock. "Have we calmed down now sweetie?" I ask you, putting as much evil sweetness into my voice as humanly possible.

You nod, and I pull the intruder from you in a swift motion. Your spit coats the half of the dildo which had been buried in your mouth and throat, and the liquid drips onto your face as I hold the toy above you. It only serves to make you more beautiful.

I let you catch your breath before turning the dildo upside down and presenting the dry half to your lips. Your moan of anguish, as you realize that this particular ordeal is only half over, is all the encouragement I need to force the toy past your lips and into your waiting mouth.

This time, once the dildo is nestled in place, I let go. 

There is a moment where I fight back laughter, looking at you with the black penis protruding from your face. But I resist the urge and turn myself around to face your feet. Then, slowly, reverently, I lower myself onto the well lubricated phallus, moaning my pleasure through one long downward stroke. When I reach the "base" of your cock I rock briefly, rubbing my clit against your chin and yelping shock and pleasure when your nose tickles my asshole.

I tease myself. Riding the dildo with long strokes. Experiencing additional pangs of pleasure from the guttural noises you make as my downward strokes press the dildo deeper into your throat.

But as my arousal grows, the deliberate pace becomes not enough and I lean forward, supporting myself on my elbows and pressing harder against the cock.

"Gluck, gluck, gluck" Is the wet organic sound of the dildo being pulled from you by my tightening pelvic muscles only to be violently replaced a moment later. It is music to my ears, and I am surprised to feel an orgasm building with my clit untouched.

The sensation of pressure builds, but I force myself to stop, just for a moment.

I want you to cum with me. I drop my lips to your slit and seek out the hard bead of flesh there. I suck your clit into my mouth in a pulsating beat to match my thrusts. We cum in moments.

Your orgasm, during which you manage to sigh your delighted release around a mouthful of battering cock, triggers mine. I hold perfectly still, feeling my vaginal muscles contract around the dildo. Wave of release, which feel as though they are comprised of heat, ripple through my body with each muscle spasm.

Eventually, when I have recovered, I roll off of you. The dildo comes with me. You gasp for air again.

You turn you head and we lock eyes.

"No." I tell you, in answer to the silent question. "We're not done. Not even close."



Boundaries



How am I going to tell this story? The idea of sharing with everyone, my first time, I have wanted to for so long, it has been such an erotic idea to play with, an auto-invasion of my own privacy. 

Finally, I dare myself. The first time with anyone? Or with a white guy? They were the same actually. My first time with a guy was with a white guy. Right, this was when I went to college, I mean, I hadn't really been with many guys at all, I hadn't slept with anyone, and fooled around with only a few others, all Asian boys. Some of them okay, some of them I fell in love with a little, but I didn't go far with them. Kissing was about all. 

I knew Paul, to see I mean, he lived about ten minutes away from us. And we ended up going to the same college, both of us, sadly, remaining at home, with our parents. I was studying medicine, he was doing English Lit. I think. And we found ourselves bumping into each other, and travelling in on the train sometimes. And, well, I did find him attractive, more than just that, I had a slight crush on him, even before I knew him, when I only knew him to look at. And he was nice. A little bit shy, not at all arrogant, which is a quality I hate. We sort of hit it off a bit. We went to see a film. I asked him I think, after some lectures, walking back to the station, passing a cinema, he said yes. And that was when we first kissed. 

We were watching, and then I felt him looking at me, so I turned, he was looking at me, I smiled, but looked away. I wanted to look back. And, somehow, I don't know, I felt bolder than I had with Pakistani boys. I turned to him again, gazed at his handsome face, his beautiful green eyes, his lips, god, his full soft lips, and he rested his hand on my leg. Our look, his hand, I felt myself filling with adrenalin, felt the sudden simmer of arousal. He sort of moved to me, but didn't quite, so, I was the one, I moved my head to his and leaned in and we kissed. It was lovely, just amazing. He tasted different to Asian boys, but nice. We were so soft, so gently, our lips barely touching, the tip of his soft tongue touching mine. And then I felt his hand on my breast, gently touching me there, cupping me through my T-shirt. 

I felt my small nipple become stiff, and sensed myself become wet between my legs. I am not sure I had felt this before, in this context, he kissed me, his hand was on my breast, so soft, and I felt a sudden dampness in my vagina. It was so arousing, to feel this, to feel my young body reacting. I rested my hand on his thigh, I didn't know quite what to do, I mean, I knew what I could do, I didn't know quite how far I wanted to take this, but, well, I moved my hand upward, up along his firm thigh, and I put my hand on his crotch, I put my hand on his crotch, and felt his penis, through his jeans, and he was already hard. 

God, this was, I mean, I really hadn't done anything, apart from kiss, this was the first time I had even done this, we kissed, I touched his tongue with mine, I felt his lips on mine, and his hand on my breast, stroking me there, squeezing my stiffened nipple, and I moved my hand over his cock, I felt it, so hot, so thrillingly hard, I felt it move, as I touched, it grew, it got harder still, bigger, as we kissed and stroked, and, well, I was really quite aroused, I knew my vagina would be so wet now, I could almost feel it, feel my panties sticking to my damp sex. 

I was emboldened, and turned on, I rubbed Paul's stiff cock, sort of held it, bent it with my hand, and felt his hand move under my T-shirt, and touch the cool smooth dark skin of my stomach, and then up, he touched my breast through the thin material of my bra, then went under this, and I felt his hand stroking my bare breast, his penis jumped as he touched me, I felt him move, pulse and stiffen some more, he pinched my erect nipple, I rubbed his hard penis. 

We stopped for a bit, watched the film for a bit, he kept his hand on my thigh, on my jeans, and moved it slowly upwards, so he was near my crotch, holding me, squeezing my leg, as he did I moved my hand onto his thigh, and shadowed his movement, then, this felt so daring, to be the first to do this, I moved my hand back to his crotch, and placed it back over his penis, he was still hard, even though we weren't kissing, I moved my legs apart a little, wanting him to touch more of me, I wished I was wearing a skirt, a dress, I would have let him go under, inside my panties, I would have let him touch my bare pussy right there. 

But he covered my groin, he covered my vulva with his hand, I mean, outside my trousers, touching me as I was touching him, I felt his fingers pressing onto me, I was so wet now, I knew it, I knew he would be able to feel the heat emanating from my vagina, he turned to me again, our hands on each other, and leant back in to kiss me, I opened my mouth for him, fought his tongue with mine, harder this time, more abandoned, I savoured the soft cool texture of his lips on mine, and felt his cock stiffen more, and his fingers press harder, touching my damp sex lips, rubbing me up and down as I was rubbing his cock, god I wanted him now, I knew, if we had been alone I would have undone his trousers, and mine, I would have guided his cock inside me, I wanted to be wearing a skirt, I wanted Paul to be able to put his hand up there, touch me only through my panties, then inside, I wanted to feel his fingers on my naked pussy, touching my thick labia, touching my warm wet cunt. God, I am feeling quite aroused again, writing about this. 

We kissed throughout the movie, and touched each other. Paul felt my breasts, underneath my bra, and I touched his stiff cock, through his trousers, and he rubbed my hot vulva through mine. And the film ended, and we left. 

We were in college the next day I think, and we travelled home together, on the train, we hadn't kissed again, even the day before, after leaving the cinema, I didn't know whether he wanted to. I felt nervous about asking, or trying to kiss him. Anyway, we walked past my road, which was a way back from the main road, and I asked if he wanted to come in, for a cup of tea or something. And he said he did. So. 

We walked to my house, I knew my mum and dad were both at work, and my sister still in school. We'd be alone. I did make tea, and we drank it in the living room. We usually chatted okay, but we were both pretty quiet, I put my tea down, and put my hand on Paul's leg, on his thigh, he looked at me, we didn't kiss, I rubbed his leg, and looked at his crotch, as I held and touched him I saw the bulge in his trousers get bigger, his penis was getting hard again, because of my hand. We still weren't kissing, and Paul wasn't touching me anywhere, I watched his penis increase in size, it was almost sticking straight up from his thighs. 

I asked, I wanted to. I asked.

"Can I see it. Paul, can I look at your penis?"

"Yes, yes, I want you to."

So I moved my hand to his belt, and undid this, and then undid his button, all the while my wrist was touching his penis, I could feel how stiff he was, I unzipped his trousers, Paul lifted his bum off the chair, I pulled his trousers down, to his ankles, and looked at his crotch, he was wearing quite small white pants, not Y-fronts, smaller even, his cock was so hard, it was sticking up now, now I'd pulled his trousers down, I could see the top of his pubic hair, god, I felt myself getting wet again, looking, waiting, hesitating, looking at the shape, the outline of Paul's hard penis, it curved from his pubis up and down in a thick and long arc to the tops of his thighs, it strained against his underwear, pulling the material away from his waist, exposing his thick bush, I could see this, I could see someone's pubic hair for the first time, I looked at the thick curly line of his dark manly sexual growths.

I couldn't stop though, I didn't want to. I took hold of the waist band of his underwear, feeling his soft pubic hair against the back of my fingers, I was breathless with excitement, I pulled his pants down, slowly, looking as his penis was revealed, the base of it, thick, hair growing around it, I pulled some more, quicker, and released his hard cock, I almost had an orgasm right then, looking, just looking at his stiff cock springing free, bouncing up from his underwear, god he looked huge, his cock looked just massive to me, pale, I suppose, I was used to my own skin, pink and smooth, it was thick, and long, it still got even bigger.

I looked at it grow in length, it pulsed upwards, rising, seemingly of its own accord, I was staring at a boy's exposed penis as it become aroused, as it stiffened in front of me, ready, I knew, in order that it could be inserted into a woman's wet vagina, he was getting hard, his cock was getting erect and rigid so he could slide it inside my tight wet virgin cunt. It grew harder, longer, and thicker, it was now sticking straight upwards, the soft wrinkle of his foreskin being pulled back, just slightly, so I could see his glans, the lips of his meatus, and his scrotum, god, I'd never even seen pictures, not really, and I'd never seen one on the flesh, his scrotum was drawn up tight, the skin there was darker than on his penis, wrinkled, hairy, drawing up his large oval testicles. I pushed Paul's pants down to his ankles, and stared at his exposed and aroused genitals. 

I didn't do anything for what felt like ages, just looked, stared at Paul's hard exposed male part, looking for the first time at a boy's bare penis, a white boy's erect cock, I wanted to study it, to memorise, the length of it, the thickness, the colour, it looked so smooth, so thick, wider in the middle, the shape of his tip showing from underneath his pale foreskin, the curved line of his engorged glans. Then I asked if I could touch it, I asked.

"Can I? Can I touch it? I want to, can I touch your penis?" 

Paul said yes, he told me he wanted me to. 

So, I reached for it, for his cock, and held it, I touched a boy's penis for the first time, I watched myself reach over with my slim brown fingers and curl them around his creamy pink cock. It felt so hard, just completely rigid, and so thick, I am quite small, I know, but even so, I could only just get my fingers around the shaft, it was warm, hot and stiff, but the skin was soft, and malleable, I gripped it, and moved my hand down, somehow I knew, I held the shaft of his cock firmly and pulled his foreskin back, and exposed the round smooth shiny tip of his penis, I watched myself pulling his prepuce back, stretching it over his darker, redder bulb. I was transfixed, by this final hidden part of him, of a boy's sex organ, this tight oval helmet, and the tiny narrow pursed slit of his exposed opening. 

I saw a tiny drop of clear fluid appear from his urethra, and suddenly I was bending down, without thinking, drawn forward by my own arousal, by depraved lust, I bent and I kissed the end of his penis, I pushed out my soft wet tongue and licked this clear drop of pre-ejaculate, I licked the tip of his hard cock, it tasted sweet, I heard Paul breathing, suddenly, heavily, I looked up, his mouth was slightly open, he was looking at my hand on his cock, and just then my mouth, I knew he'd like me to take him in my mouth, I thought I might, I wanted to, I asked.

"Can I suck your penis? Would you like me to? Would you like me to put your hard cock in my mouth?"

"Yes, oh fuck, Salima, yes". 

So, I held it, gripped it, rubbed his skin over his hard shaft, I don't know how I knew to do this, to stroke the soft layer of smooth skin over the hot core of his stem, but I did, realising what I was doing, I was masturbating him, I was wanking his hard dick. I bent down again and took the end of his cock between my lips, I took a boy's penis in my mouth, this was it, this was my first time doing this, I let the next thought form, the sentence: I am sucking a boy's cock, I have a boy's erect penis in my mouth, I am a cocksucker, I am a filthy little sluttish cocksucker. 

I ran my tongue over it, and kissed it, licked it, wet it with my saliva, and let it slide in and out of my mouth, it was so good, it felt so wicked, god, here I was, a nice little Pakistani girl, still a virgin, from a nice respectable family, brought up well, never been touched, never touched anyone, and I had a white boy's hard cock in my mouth, and I was so aroused myself, god I knew my vagina was so wet, I wanted Paul to touch me there, but I carried on, I knew, I mean I'd read what happened when a man had an orgasm, books had been passed around at school, we had talked, some girls already knew, but I didn't, I didn't know really what would happen, I mean, I knew, but didn't know, I was just so turned on by sucking Paul's big thick hard dick, I felt his hand on my shoulder, reaching into my blouse, he touched my breast again, under my bra again, stroking my nipple, pinching it gently, I felt his penis swell in my mouth, I felt him get even harder in my hand, in my wet mouth his tight smooth glans quivered, his cock seemed to get warmer, I moved my other hand, I wanted to touch his balls, I wanted to feel his tight scrotum, he held my right breast and I cupped his balls in my left hand, kept moving my right hand on his stem, and moved my mouth over his cock head. He seemed to become tense, his hand pressed against my breast. 

"Salima, god, I might, fuck, I'm going to come, I am so fucking close, Salima, oh fuck I'm sorry, I'm going, you're going to make me come."

I knew, but didn't know, what was going to happen, I just didn't want to stop, so I didn't stop, I kept moving my hands, and my mouth, I closed my lips around his cock, wrapped my lips around his soft engorged slick glans, Paul tensed more.

"Salima, fuck, Salima, I'm coming, Salima, oh god Salima."

And his cock thickened and jumped in my hand, I felt him twitch, and spasm, his testicles clenched, and suddenly my mouth filled with liquid, and I realised he was coming, I heard him.

"Oh god Salima, oh fuck, I'm sorry, this is so fucking good, oh Salima, oh, your soft sweet mouth..."

My mouth was filling with quick jets of warm fluid, Paul was coming in my mouth, he was ejaculating, I had made I him come, I felt so good, so dirty, so fucking aroused, god, my young virgin cunt was throbbing as Paul spurted his hot semen into my mouth, over my tongue, it tasted good, I liked it I mean, I still do, salty I know, but strangely sweet as well, a little bit, and thinner than I thought, not all thick or gloopy, not in my mouth, not to taste, he seemed to come and come, he seemed to have so much cum, I loved it, feeling him pulse and empty his young balls in my mouth, feeling the four then five rapid streams of semen get pushed from his body by orgasm and splash over my tongue. I drank his hot young spunk and swallowed it down, I felt his seed coat my palate, slide along my throat. 

I took Paul's cum inside my Pakistani belly, I felt so alive, fuck, so transgressive, letting this beautiful young white boy put his cock in my mouth, letting myself suck his cock until he climaxed, letting this white heathen fill my dark Muslim mouth with his hot semen. I sucked and sucked, and gripped and pumped his shaft, until no more semen came out, and I started to feel Paul's penis soften in my mouth. 

I sat up, and saw his penis again, softening, dropping down, shiny with my saliva, I realised my dad would be home soon, and Paul should go. He stood up, his beautiful big soft cock hanging down now, and he pulled up his pants and trousers, I watched him hold his still large, still heavy penis, gripping himself, pulling his foreskin back once, then forward, sliding it over his shiny red cockhead, but then folding it into his pants, and covering himself up. I didn't want him to, I wanted to be able to look at his cock all night. 

But he had to go. We still hadn't kissed again I realised, I felt like a whore, not kissing, sucking his cock but not kissing him, taking his penis in my mouth, making him come and drinking his cum, but not kissing, and not having him pleasure me, god, I felt so deliciously dirty. I knew I needed to masturbate, I had to, I didn't do this very much then, but I did as soon as Paul left, I went up to my bedroom, and took my trousers and knickers off, and then I wanted to see myself nude, so I took my blouse and bra off as well, and stood naked in front of my mirror, looking at my small breasts, my stiff little nipples, my smooth brown skin, my legs, I turned, I looked at my bare bum, my pert young buttocks, and back around, at my thick dark bush, I watched myself running my hands over my naked body, touching myself, my tits, my belly, my pubic hair, I looked at myself moving my feet apart, so I could see my genitals, I stepped closer to the mirror, and touched the damp swollen lips of my sex, I watched myself stroking my labia, parting them, then pushing a finger inside my tight young vagina, feeling how hot and wet I was, feeling a wash of moistness get released, spreading this up, over my lips, my tight clitoris, and gasping out loud with the sudden pleasure of this. 

I lay back on my bedroom floor, and spread my legs apart, and stroked my aching tender cunt, I was already close to coming, I started moaning a little, and rubbing myself harder, quicker, I may have been talking aloud, as I rubbed my stiff clitoris and fingered my tight virgin cunt, I felt a huge orgasm building quickly, from my toes, it travelled up my legs, my thighs, each motion of my fingers drawing it upwards, over my belly, my heaving breasts, I pushed my legs further apart, splayed my dark brown cunt wide open, I was still looking, and moaning now with extreme pleasure, and felt myself starting to come. 

My climax started to break and crash over me, and just, just as it did my father came into my room, as he always did, and saw me, his daughter, his innocent young daughter, he saw me completely naked, unable to stop, my legs spread wide, he must have looked, I am sure I saw him, unable to stop himself, looking down at my bare body, my exposed sex, at my hands rubbing my cunt, my father stopped just long enough to see me coming, I did stop touching myself, and tried to cover my breasts, of all things, but my climax was already consuming me. 

I think he said:

"Salima, bloody hell." 

As my orgasm broke over me, too large and too late to stop it, I wasn't even able to stop myself from moaning aloud as I came, my hands away from my cunt, but so allowing my father seeing me, to look directly at his daughter's thick wet pussy, her legs apart, and hearing me saying:

"Fuck, fuck, mmm, mmm, ooohhh."

As he entered I was already in the throes of extreme freefalling pleasure, I climaxed and was saying:

"Oohh fuck my hot wet cunt, my tight hot Pakistani cunt."

As he opened my door and saw me come. 

My father said nothing, he had the good sense at least not to try to talk to me about it. I did wonder though, after that, this was so sick really, but I wondered if he thought of me, at all, his daughter, naked, laying on the floor in front of her mirror, her legs spread wide apart, masturbating, I did, god, I mean, just once or twice, then more and more, I thought of my father being aroused when he saw me, being aroused at seeing his young devout daughter naked, her legs spread, rubbing her cunt as she had an orgasm and as she did she used such filthy language, I found this thought intruding, when I spiralled into the vortex of future orgasms, that my father's cock had stiffened in his trousers, when he saw me, I realised the idea aroused me, it was so bad, that he went to his room, his cock hard, and that he had had to unzip his flies and pull his swelling cock from his pants and masturbate quick and hard, over me, at the sight of me, I touched myself and conjured that embarrassing moment, only, shit, I was as I was, on the floor, naked, my legs apart, my hand between them, fingering my naked genitals, entering myself, sliding a finger inside my vagina as my other hand stroked and rubbed my stiff little clitoris, and my father caught me. 




Boundaries



"Salima, bloody hell".

Only, I stopped, I looked at him, then down, and saw his cock pointing out, hard, rigid, from underneath his trousers. 

This thought, I started to pull myself towards climax with this depraved fantasy, that my father didn't leave my room, he stopped, frozen, frozen by his own arousal, by the sudden stiffness of his cock. I stared at the large bulge it made in his crotch. And I carried on, I carried on masturbating in front of him, and he, mmm, even now, even now this gets to me, I look as my father undoes his belt, his trousers, and pushes them down his legs, I look at him in his white boxer shorts, his penis sticking out straight in front of him, a damp shadow at the apex of the point his stiff cock is making, and he pulls his underwear down, I stare as my father's erect penis bounces free, and up, as he becomes fully hard in front of me, as his cock springs up, and thickens, lengthens, until it rears up from his tight dark balls, up to his smooth hairy belly. I stare, at my father's superb and large dick, before he grips himself, before I see him move his hand to his erect penis and grip his thick stem, he looks down at me, and starts to masturbate over me, hard, fast, his fat balls shaking up and down.

I used to come as I thought of father rubbing his stiff cock, fucking his fist until he ejaculated, as Paul had, both of us reaching our orgasms together, my father holding his big bare prick over me, as he started to ejaculate, as I saw the first creamy gouts of cum burst from the smooth tip of his beautiful dark dick, spurting his thick seed over me. Of course I didn't stop there, one transgressive fantasy allowed for the next, set that incestuous precedent. 

I started re-creating that moment, my father catching me, feeling his cock stiffen, I touched myself, carried on, and watched him unzip his trousers, and push down his boxer shorts, I fingered my young pussy as I imagined my father exposing his hard cock, watching it grow, until it was sticking up, until he was fully erect, long and thick, his dark hairy scrotum round and tight, and I kneel up, god, I kneel up to him and take my father's thick rigid cock in my mouth, he lets me, he is too aroused to stop me, and I suck my father's penis until I feel him come, until I feel his spurts of hot creamy spunk fill my mouth.

And still, I didn't stop, he used to catch me, look at me, and become angry with me, not letting me get up, or get dressed, but realising he is aroused, I lay naked in front of my father, who suddenly realised his cock is ragingly hard, and he tears as his trousers, pulling them off, pulling down his underpants, and releasing his enormous and rigid cock, he lets me look, at what I have done to him, he stops, looking himself at me, my legs still apart, my soft young cunt in full view, letting me look at him, at my father, half naked, his erect penis exposed to me. And then he rapes me. 

I make my father grab me, slightly against my will, with me slightly struggling, and he turns me onto my back, usually saying something, whispering to me.

"Salima you filthy little slut, you filthy little cunt, you want something inside you, you want to be fucked like a little whore, you young slut, you depraved little bitch..."

And he holds me down, face down, I feel his hard penis pressing onto my body, then onto my naked bum, and he pushed the thick smooth tip of his cock against me, oh god, I feel my father pushing his cock against my anus. It hurts, I imagine pain, but sweet pleasurable aroused pain, I am spun naked on my front, I feel his body on mine, his thick pubic hair brushing my small boyish bum, my legs are forced apart, and I feel my father force his thick stiff prick hard between my buttocks, so his cock presses against my tight hidden opening, and he pushes harder, until he forces his hard cock inside my tight tender virgin asshole. And he fucks me, my father rapes me in my anus, I hear his breath on me, his hands reach around, and he touches my bare genitals.

"You're wet aren't you, your little cunt is soaking, Salima's little pussy is wet with her father's cock inside her, Salima's little cunt is soaking, her father is fucking her tight little ass and she is aroused, aren't you? Tell me?" 

"Yes, oh god, yes I am, oh father, oh, I am sorry, I am aroused, I am a little slut, fuck me, fuck my little ass, fuck my virgin asshole, fuck me like the filthy little slut that I am."

I had so many filthy little climaxes playing this game, playing this scenario. Feeling my father coming inside me, feeling him fuck me hard, stretching my poor little asshole wide, filling my churning rectum with his seed, feeling each contraction, as his hard cock thickens and each spurt of hot spunk fills me. It stopped when I got older, when I allowed myself to be aroused, when I knew I could fuck who I wanted, with no guilt. When I was younger though this turned me on so much. It is common enough I suppose, we are all told it's every woman's secret fantasy. Is it still? Even after generations of female sexuality and arousal being accepted into the mainstream? My father though? So he was complicit? An extra layer of absolution? 

Did I masturbate whilst thinking of my father in any other ways? Was I sexually attracted to him? 

I couldn't help wondering if he did actually masturbate over this, over me, seeing me in this way. Would that be so wrong? Thus speaks someone without children I guess. 

He was a very handsome man, tall and dark, very striking looking, and I remembered from when I was younger, or think I do, him taking baths with me and my sister, and later showers, so I had a vague mental image of his naked body, his dark skin, his black hair covering his chest and belly, I had vague images of his thick pubic hair, and his large, to me, when I was a child, his large circumcised penis.

I may have, I think, I mean, I did, a few times, I used to listen to try to hear him making love to my mother, and one or two times I did hear them, and imagined them, what they were doing, and what it was like. Not that many months previously I tried to sneak to their room, I was far too old to be doing such a thing, I wasn't a young girl, I was an eighteen year old university student. 

Yet their door was part open, just a crack, I could not see much, more in the mirror to the side of their bed, just my father, his bare bum, my mother's right leg, to the side of his body, so he was on top of her, between her legs, in the mirror I saw more, my mother's hands on father's back, stroking, rubbing, scratching I thought, more of his bare bum as he moved it up and down, between my mother's spread legs, their stomachs pressed together, my mother's breasts. 

I realised they were fucking, I would have known this for years, more than old enough to know this, to know that my father had his penis inside my mother's vagina, and that he was thrusting himself in and out of her, penetrating her with his cock, I watched, as quiet as I could be.

I started thinking about sex, my own pleasures, and feeling things, as I watched I felt my own arousal, I felt my sex tingling as I saw my parents fucking, thinking this word, this thought: 

"My parents are having sex, my dad is fucking my mother, they are fucking, his hard penis is inside her, sliding inside her wet vagina, he has his hard cock inside her wet cunt."

I watched my father thrust his buttocks harder, and quicker, they were kissing, I could see him lower his head to my mother's breasts, small like mine, licking her long dark nipples, my mother spoke, as father used his mouth on her bare body, as he pumped his ass up and down, as she felt his cock enter her, filling her, stretching her pussy. I heard her start to talk to him, using his name, as my father thrust his penis in and out of her she said, quietly, almost whispering, not wanting her children to hear, not knowing I was already watching. 

"Oh Amir, Amir, oh, yes, oohh, harder, darling, fuck me harder, ohh, Amir, fuck me harder please, pleeaase, fuck my hot cunt, fuck my hot little cunt, oh, oh yes, oh fuck yes, fuck me with your huge thick beautiful big fucking cock, fuck your little slut of a wife, fuck your filthy little slut wife Amir."

And he did, my father fucker her harder, I saw him lift himself up, I watched him thrust himself forward and back, I could see his smooth firm brown ass going hard and fast, his flesh wobbling as he fucked, and my mother, her knees raised, her legs spread wide apart, and god she was quite dirty, thinking back, I saw her hand, on father's bum, pulling his cheek apart, and her other hand reaching down, between his fleshy buttock, and touching him, stroking his tight cleft, I didn't quite know then, not until I thought about it, re-created this moment later on, when I was alone, but I was seeing my mother finger father's anus as he fucked her. 

I knew it was something, enough to make me wet, I touched myself, I slid my hand inside my pyjama bottoms, feeling my small belly, touching the soft, thick, dark hairs that were above my pussy, and I touched my wet vagina, as I watched my parents fuck, I couldn't believe how good it suddenly felt, how thick and swollen my labia were, how hot and warmly wet my vagina was.

I watched, and listened, as my mother whispered to my father: 

"Yes, Amir, yees, darling, god, oh god, harder now, I am right there, right, god, yes, yes, fuck me hard, god, I love you, Amir, I love your tight little anus, fuck, I love touching your tight tight asshole, you like it? Yes? You like my finger inside your anus, tell me, oh, oh, you like me fingering your tight asshole...?" 

And my father spoke, really quite hoarse.

"Yes, yes, oh fuck, oh Nadira, push your finger inside my anus, god Nadira, fuck my arse with your finger."

I saw her reach, and penetrate my father, she carried on. 

"Let me feel, ooohhh, yes, god, you're so lovely and tight there, Amir, push your hard hard fucking cock deep, yes, there, there, yes, harder, Amir, darling, fuck my wet cunt, fuck me, fuck your dirty little whore wife, oh I love you, I love your fucking cock, fuck my tight cunt, oh, oh, oh god, fuck me harder, fuck your little slut, fuck your little cockhungry slut, fuck her tight hot cunt, fuck my wet cunt Amir, push your big fucking dick inside my pussy, fuck me hard, fuck me like a little slut, oh, fuck me like a dirty little whore, fuck your slut's wet cunt, I'm a filthy slut, oh, oh, fuck me harder, oh, fuck my cunt, oh Amir, oh, yeeessss, yeess, fuck..." 

I watched my mother climax, I knew this is what was happening, my mother was having an orgasm. She was coming. As she did my father stopped, he pulled himself back, I couldn't quite see directly, but suddenly he was kneeling upright, and his arm was moving, his hand seemed to be in his lap, I realised he was stroking his penis, I looked in the mirror, my father was holding his cock, was rubbing it quickly up and down.

And at once I could see my father's naked penis, his hard cock, oh my god, he had pulled it out of my mother's vagina and was rubbing it with his hand, I could see it, my father's hard cock, my own body reacted to this new sight, I felt a sudden flood of hot wetness escape my tight young vagina, I felt my pussy lips swell, everything became more exciting and pleasurable to touch, as I looked, oh my god, as I could now clearly see my father's naked and hard cock, I could see his hand sliding over his shiny wet stem, wet, I realised, I realise, from my mother's pussy, from her arousal. I was sure before once or twice when I got into bed with them, or walked in to their room in the morning, and my father got out of bed, I had seen his penis perhaps half hard, sometimes it looked bigger, longer, different, but this was the first time, fuck, I could see him when he was fully erect. 

He looked huge. I thought that perhaps he shouldn't ejaculate inside my mother, this was why he had to pull himself out, but I saw him masturbating over my mother, I watched in the mirror, my father had wrapped his fingers around the long shaft of his erect penis and was moving his hand up and down, I knew the word, it was used at school often enough, he was wanking, my father was wanking over my mother, wanking his hard cock, and he did look enormous to me then, never having seen a man's erect cock, but he looked huge, I don't know, still, when I think back, I am sure my father has a large cock, bigger than Paul certainly, at least in my mind, I don't know, eight, possibly nine inches? Big anyway, fuck, long, thick. 

Then, my mother, perhaps still coming herself, still riding the wave of her orgasm.

"Come over me, come over my body, cover me with your hot cum Amir, stroke your big fucking cock for me, come on, come over your filthy wife's whore face, come on my tits, Amir, god, god you look so big, your hard dick is so fucking huge, so good, god you're so hard, look at your big dark beautiful fucking cock, I love looking at your balls as you stroke yourself, harder, come on, come on me, cover my slut mouth, my face, cover my hot cunt with your thick cum."

My father was masturbating quickly now, I could see his arm going real fast, pointing his cock at my naked mother's belly, she was still encouraging him.

"I want your hot seed on me, cover me, yes, god, fuck there's so much of it, god, yes, come over my filthy whore face, cover your little cock slut with your hot spunk, come over my tits, oh, oh yes, mmm, mm, come in my mouth, mmm, fill my filthy cock loving mouth with your hot spunk..."

And I pushed a finger inside my vagina, I penetrated myself, doing so as my father gripped his hard penis and masturbated over my mother, I could see in the mirror as he held his thick penis, he moved, I watched father push his legs either side of my mother, and shuffle up her body, so his knees were either side of her breasts, I saw my mother's hand was still on his bare ass, deep between his cleft, still stroking his anus, still fingering my father's tight asshole, he suddenly stopped stroking himself, I didn't know why, he stopped, his shiny wet hard cock sticking out, huge and stiff, he held himself, his thick stem, seemed to point the tip of his cock down slightly. 

And then I saw this white stuff shooting out of the end of it, my own little vagina throbbed as I saw this, loads, I don't know, five or six huge thick ribbons of white fluid coming out of my father's penis and splashing over my mother's face, oh god, they were so dirty, my father gave my mother a facial, he came right over her face, she was naked and still dirty talking, I fingered myself, I was fucking my tight cunt with my two fingers I was so aroused watching my father ejaculate over my mother, so turned on by seeing him spurting his thick hot semen over her cheeks, her eyes, her nose, into her open mouth, and so aroused over the words she was using. 

A few days later, not after this, not after watching my parents, but after I had sucked Paul's cock for the first time, I think he and I met in college, and had a drink together. 

Apart from anything else this was my first alcoholic drink as well, certainly the first one when I had authentic ID to show should anyone ask. I drank vodka I think, it went to my head at once, we were at a table, I put my hand on Paul's leg again, as soon as we sat down, he put his on mine, only, I was wearing a skirt this day, no tights, or stockings, he had his hand on my leg, my bare leg, just holding, squeezing, his fingers were touching my bare skin. I felt my vagina getting damp at once, I slid my hand along Paul's firm thigh, wishing he wasn't wearing jeans, but up, to his crotch. I slid my hand up to his crotch and placed my hand over his genitals. His cock was already hard. 

I lay my hand over his thrillingly stiff penis, letting my hand take the heat coming from him, pushing gently, feeling my own arousal grow as I could feel his. I squeezed his cock under the table, Paul moved his hand further up my leg, I felt him against my underwear, just, the side of his finger, his forefinger was touching the thin cotton of my panties, I felt him squeeze my skin, and nudge the covered lips of my pussy, his cock moved under my hand, god I was so wet now. 

Paul spoke to me, with his hand next to my vagina, our lips, our mouths were so close, almost kissing but not, he whispered, entering me with his breath, penetrating each other with our voices, our sweet breath playing over our lips, our faces:

"Salima, oh fuck, oh god..."

"What? What is it? Tell me, please, tell me..." 

"Oh Salima, your... your cunt, your cunt feels so wet, so fucking hot, oh god... I can feel it, is it wet?" 

"Yes, oh Paul, I am, my cunt is so fucking wet, my little pussy is so hot and wet, I want you to touch me there, oh Paul, I want your fingers on my bare cunt, would you? Please? Would you touch me? Touch my wet cunt?"

"Can I? Would you like me to?" 

"Yes, can you, please Paul, touch me, touch my cunt, oh fuck, oh, please, let me feel you finger me, touch my hot wet cunt". 

And he pushed his hand more firmly against my panties, I felt the pressure on the lips of my pussy, I was aching for his touch, I was almost in pain I was so desperate to feel him touch me, to feel a boy's fingers on my damp sex. I moved on the chair for him, moved forward so he could get inside my knickers, he moved his hand from my thigh, up, touching my belly, stroking my pubic area through my underwear, and then he dipped his fingers in under the waistband, I felt his fingers threading through my thick bush, I was trembling, I almost felt close to coming, he pushed his fingers lower, over my skin, my bare skin, into the densest part of my bush, until at last I felt him touch my soft damp sex, until I felt someone else's fingers touching my genitals for the first time. 

I spread my legs apart for him, he touched my lips, sliding a finger between them, I felt his skin on mine, on my most tender skin, pushing between the thick hot skin of my pussy, then he found my vagina and entered me. I pushed my legs wider and felt a boy's fingers on me, touching me, penetrating me. Paul pushed his finger inside my vagina, I clenched with involuntary tightening, closing my young vagina around his slim finger, feeling the invasion within me, feeling the strange stretching and stimulation of someone else's body inside my own. I clenched, Paul pushed, his finger slid just so lightly into my virgin cunt. 

I felt so much moisture coming out of me, I felt as if I was oozing, pouring with arousal. My hand was squeezing, rubbing the length of Paul's hard cock, feeling his rigid he said:

"Fuck Salima, you're soaking, your cunt is so tight and wet." 

I felt his cock harden under my hand. I spoke into his mouth, I whispered inside him.

"Oh Paul, your cock is so fucking stiff, I love touching your hard cock, it makes my cunt wet when I feel your big cock getting harder."

I squeezed his Paul's penis as he slid his finger inside me, and then up, spreading moisture over my labia, and then he touched my small stiff clitoris, I closed my thighs around his hand, I had to or else I would have lost it, I clamped Paul's hand between my legs, so he couldn't really move, but was still touching my pussy.

I moved both of my hands to his crotch and clumsily unzipped his jeans, fumbling with buttons and zip, pulling his trousers apart, reaching into his pants, under the table, I slid my hand inside his trousers, inside his underwear, feeling his hot humid pubic hair, opening my fingers and closing them around the thick stiff bent stem of his dick, curling my fingers around his aroused male sex, so hard, I held his erect penis, god I felt horny, really, so fucking dirty and turned on, Paul's fingers touching naked cunt and mine on his bare cock, I said to him, my bare hand on his naked prick, his fingers touching my aching hot young pussy:




Boundaries



"Paul, oh god, I want to be naked with you, can we, today, can we go to mine, I want to make love with you, I want... I want to fuck... I want to be fucked... I want you to fuck me, today, I want to strip off with you, I want you to see me naked, all of me, all of my bare body, my breasts, my ass, I want you to look at all of me, my most secret places, I want to feel you looking at my anus, my thick bush, my thick dark hairy cunt, and I want to see you, all of you, your beautiful big white dick, your tight balls, I want your cock in my mouth again, and I want to touch your anus, and see you there, fuck, I want to lick your asshole, and then have you put your hard cock inside me, oh god, I want your erect penis inside my moist vagina, please, okay, I want your hard fucking cock inside my tight wet cunt, I want to fuck, I want a fuck, you, oh god Paul, I want to fuck you today, this afternoon, I want this hard dick inside me."

Paul's naked penis throbbed and thickened in my hand, he pushed his finger harder onto my cunt.

"Salima, you're so fucking filthy, your cunt is so fucking lovely, I want it too, oh fucking yes, I want to fuck you, yes, I want to see you, to see all of your beautiful naked body, I want to kiss you all over, I want to lick your cunt, your sweet wet cunt, I want to put my hard cock inside your tight little cunt." 

"Paul..."

Does he know? Would he already have guessed? He must have. Do I tell him? 

"...I'm a virgin."

His cock pulses in my hand, I feel him swell, as I speak, as I tell him he will be my first. I ease my hand further inside his trousers and wrap my hand around the thick hot stem of his cock, and hold him there, and stroke his soft skin up and around the iron core of his prick. I hear him breathing, his cock stiffens, straightens.

"I want your cock to be the first one I have inside me, your tongue, your fingers, I want you to be the first to finger my tight little anus, I want your big white cock inside my little Pakistani pussy."

I stroke his penis more forcefully, along his leg, he is harder again, hotter, and I react, I feel myself thicken and seep warm wetness from the tight walls of my young pussy.

"I want you between my legs, I want your lips on my naked body, I want... I want your cock inside me, oh Paul, I want to feel you pushing your stiff fucking cock inside my wet little cunt, I want to feel you tear me open, oh Paul, oh fuck..."

I touch the end of Paul's penis, sliding his foreskin over his slippery smooth tip, slick with his pre-ejaculate, I run my finger over it, over the swollen round head of his cock, he played with my wet opening, teasing and circling my vagina, god I wanted him.

"I want you now, Paul, I want you inside me, we need to go now and fuck, come with me, let's go to my house, to my bedroom, my parents' house, and fuck, strip my clothes off and push me onto my little bed, and push your cock inside me, fuck me, fuck me like a little Pakistani slut, you can fuck me however you want, as hard as you want, I want you to, oh fuck, touch me harder, oh Paul, I want you to fuck me like a little bitch, fuck me like a little slut, like a filthy little Pakistani whore."

And I held Paul's wrist, and sat forward, and moved hard onto his fingers, one finger, deep between my legs, and felt his finger against my soft tight anus, right there, I pushed and felt him touch my tight clenched asshole. 

We went back on the train, didn't touch each other, didn't kiss, didn't even talk. Just sat opposite and looked at each other. I sat opposite Paul, looking at his crotch, and opened my legs, uncrossed them, and let him look at my shadowy damp panties, I was insane with lust, wanton, shameless. I looked at Paul, at the growing bulge in his trousers, the visible stiffening of his cock, and moved my hand between my legs, at first just pressing my pussy outside my underwear, but I can't stop there, I glance around us, at people to our side, I can't stop, I don't care if they see, I push my legs further apart and slide my hand inside my panties, watching Paul, looking at his eyes, his open mouth, the bulging curve of his hard straining cock, and move my hand lower onto the soft wet skin of my cunt. 

I touch myself, on this train, my hand in my panties, the outline of my fist showing from under the thin blue material of my underwear, pressing a long finger between my swollen labia. I hear myself gasp, my breath leaves me in a loud blast as I touch my vagina, pushing the tip of my forefinger inside myself, looking at Paul's blatantly hard cock, trembling at the thought of his obvious arousal, as I touch the edge of my pulsing wet pussy. 

Paul is staring. I know I have to stop. I know I am already close to coming. I push my leg slightly wider, take my hand out of my underwear and pull the damp edge of my gusset away from my thick damp sex. 

I expose my pussy to Paul. I let him look at my dark thick hairy cunt. I want him to undo his trousers, to release his stiff cock, to watch it spring upright, I want to pull my panties off my slim legs and sit on Paul's lap, hold his cock to my cunt, I want to hold his cock against my tight virgin pussy and sit on him, slide my wet cunt down onto his long hard prick.

The train slows. 

We walked to my house again. Go straight up to my bedroom. Both of us silent. I was weak with excitement, nervous I suppose, more than a little, but aroused, fear fought excitement. This wasn't the train, the bar, the cinema, it wasn't like before, I wasn't just going to touch Paul, touch his cock, or even be touched, I was going to be naked with him, see him naked, be seen, I wanted to, I wanted everything I had said, but I was still suddenly afraid, of not being a virgin anymore, of this being my first time, of the pain, I wasn't sure I could do it, that I could undress for Paul, have him put himself inside me, the moment was getting too big for me, I couldn't, I could, I wanted to, and I suddenly thought what my family would think, my mother, my father, that their little daughter was about to let a white boy take her virginity, their sweet Muslim little girl was going to let a white atheist fuck her, their well brought up, well behaved Pakistani girl was going to strip and spread her legs and let a local boy put his hard cock inside her little brown cunt. 

My arousal rose again, my fear retreated in the face of my resurgent desire to be touched, to be naked with Paul, to feel his tongue on my body, his fingers, his hard penis. To touch him again, to kiss his bare body, to taste his beautiful bare cock, to feel him hard in my mouth, to touch his tender anus, to see him come, to feel and taste his sweet thick cum. 

I sat on my bed, Paul sat next to me.

"I want to undress for you." 

I heard Paul breathing.

"Do you want to see me undress?"

"Yes, yes I do." 

"Should I? Should I undress for you? So you can look at me, at my naked body?" 

"Oh Salima, please, I want you to."

"Do you want to look at my naked body? Tell me what you want to look at?" 

"All of you, oh fuck, I want to see you smooth firm breasts, your soft belly, your thick dark pubic hair, I want to see your bare legs, your small tight little bum..." 

"Mmm...?" 

"Your cunt, I want to see your wet cunt, I want you to spread your legs and show me your tight little cunt, and turn, and hold your ass and show me your dark little anus, oh fuck, I want you to bend and show me your tight virgin little asshole." 

"Will you touch me there?" 

"Yes, yes, I want to touch your wet cunt, I want to feel your anus, I want to kiss you there, I want to touch your asshole with my lips, my mouth, my tongue."

I stood and started to strip. I took my shoes off, and cardigan, then my blouse, and let Paul look at my exposed shoulders, arms, belly, stopping, nervous again, looking, looking at his groin. I am reassured, I feel my arousal return as I see the prominent bulge of his engorged cock pressing out against the material of his trousers. 

And I unzipped my skirt and let it fall down, and stand in front of him in my pale blue bra and panties, letting him look at me, letting him see my brown skin, the shape of my small breasts, my slim, still boyish hips, the soft outline of my thick dark pubic hair pushing out the thin cotton of my underwear. 

I don't want to pretend, I don't want to fake anything. 

"Paul, I am nervous now, I am afraid, I mean, I am aroused, but also... I don't care if you fuck me and leave, and never look at me again, it's not that, but you will despise me for doing this. That you will make me feel ashamed." 

"Salima." 

"Paul."

"You look so fucking beautiful, I want to see you naked, all of you, I want you to see me, I won't make you feel ashamed, I will never despise you for anything."

"Boys do, they make love and hate girls for letting them, they chase girls and want to screw them then call them slags when they do, they fuck their little Paki sluts and hate them afterwards." 

"You're not a "Paki", I will never use that word. I hate that word." 

"You're so nice. Call me a little Paki slut..."

"No, no." 

"I am, I am your little Paki whore, I am so wet for you, like a little slut, oh god, I don't know what I am, what I am feeling, I want you, I want you so much." 

"Salima... this is us, just us, no-one else." 

"I don't mean... I don't mean you telling other people, we're not in school anymore, I don't care about that, just you, hating me, not hating... I don't know..." 

"Salima, listen... I... I am too..." 

"Paul?"

"I am a virgin."

"Paul, really?" 

"I'm a virgin, as well, okay? I have never had sex, with a girl, with anyone. So, this is a pretty big deal for me too." 

"What have you done before?"

"I have, I've touched girls, their breasts, their pussies, girls have touched me, before, held my bare cock, and made me come with their hands, but, you were the first to suck me, you were the first to use your mouth to make me come, and... I want you to be the first, god, as soon as we kissed, as soon as I felt you touch me, I wanted to... I wanted to fuck you, I wanted you to be the first girl I had sex with."

"Oh god, were you waiting for the right girl?" 

"Are you kidding? I'd have done it with anybody, I mean, not really, but I don't... I don't meet people very well, then, you, I met you, we met." 

"We did, I fancied you already." 

"I did too, you I mean." 

"Really? What did you think?" 

"I knew I wanted to be naked with you, to see your beautiful bare body..." 

"My beautiful brown body. Say it. Please."

"I wanted to see your beautiful brown body, fuck, your gorgeous slim Pakistani body."

"Are you here because it's cool to have an Asian girl? Hmm? It appeals to your politics to sleep with a Pakistani girl?"

"Am I here because I am white? Are we playing games?" 

"I hope so, a little. Do you want to see the rest of me?"

" "

"The rest of my little Pakistani body? My small tits? My thick black bush? My dark little pussy?" 

"Yes."

"Take your clothes off, please, strip to your underwear."

I watched Paul stand up, and kick his shoes off, undo his shirt, I looked at his smooth firm naked chest, I stared, he let me, I gazed at Paul's strong almost hairless chest. He let his shirt fall from his arms, stood in his trousers, and undid them, unbuckled his belt, unzipped, pulled his jeans wide apart and pushed them down over his long toned legs. I watched him hop from foot to foot as he stepped out of his trousers. 

And stood up, facing me. I stared. Both of us in nothing but our underwear. I stared down. At the large pointing curve at the centre of Paul's small blue pants. I register the identical colour of our underwear. I register as my arousal reaches another peak, at the evidence of Paul's, at the unimpeded sight of his hardened cock, the long thick bend of his engorged penis, held down by his tight briefs, pulling the waistband forward, showing me the teasing top of his thick pubic hair, the wide bush thinning into the dark trail that led up to his deep belly button. 

There was a dark spot of dampness at the centre of his underwear. My vagina seeped with my own thick moisture. I knew there would be a long strip of wetness showing in my panties. My breath was leaving me in loud clumps through my open mouth. 

My mouth was dry, I stared at Paul's almost nude body, his pale creamy pink skin, his slim waist, his tight belly, his large bulging penis. And then reached behind my back and unclipped my bra. I stood and let it drop from my shoulders, my arms, stopped, let my soon to be lover look at my exposed breasts, so small, high and firm, I was trembling again, as Paul looked at me, I knew my dark brown, coin sized nipples had tightened and stiffened to two small sensitive points. 

Still I waited. Was this more nerves? Or was I extending this deliciously erotic moment? His eyes were like hands caressing my almost naked body. I looked again at Paul's still hidden still obviously hard cock. The bulge of his penis pushing out from underneath his tight pants, the sight of his blatant excitement and the effect my naked body was having made me more aroused, weak with it, I wanted him to stare at me, to drink in my body with his eyes.

I held the top of my panties with my thumbs and fingers, looking, starting to pull, stopping, shifting my grip to the sides, I remained upright, and pushed, so slowly, I pushed my underwear away from my body, over my slim slight boyish hips, feeling the gradual exposure of my pubic hair, I pushed, I pushed, and felt them loosen, and fall away from me, I left them around my ankles, let Paul look at me, naked, my suddenly naked body, standing in front of him, letting him look at my thick, almost black pubic hair, dark against my lighter brown skin, I faced him, another person, a boy, for the first time, letting someone see me nude, letting Paul take in the straighter hair between my legs, covering, I was sure, hiding the thick damp dark skin of my cunt. 

"Do you like what you see?" 

"Oh Salima, you look fucking beautiful." 

"Are you really a virgin as well?"

"Yes, I am."

"You've never fucked a Pakistani virgin then?" 

"No." 

"Have you ever seen an Asian girl naked before? Have you ever tasted the pussy of an Asian girl?" 

"No." 

"You've never put your cock in a tight little Pakistani cunt?" 

"Oh fuck, Salima, no, no." 

My voice is a whisper again, ragged and thick with still rising lust.

"Take your underwear off Paul, I want to see you naked, I want to look at your hard cock, I want to see all of your body." 

He stares at me, copying my last movement, gripping the elasticated waist of his pants, holding them at the sides, by his hips, pushing, I watch him push his underwear down, exposing more of his thick dark bush, first letting me see the thick swollen pink root of his penis, pushing, slowly, standing up straight, more of his aroused cock is exposed, more of his long shaft, I see his underwear catch and tug his stiff cock downwards, pulling it lower as it slides along his stem, I see it getting wider, at the middle, I look at the thick green vein running along the centre of his light brown penis, more, god, it looks to go on and on, it looks longer, bigger than I remembered, he pushes, I see the outline of his oval glans, covered by the soft shield of his foreskin, pushing, and suddenly it springs free, I watch his hard cock bounce upwards, away from his underwear, they drop to his ankles, he lets them, he doesn't move. 

I stare at his suddenly exposed cock as it pulses up away from his legs, letting me look at the tight round ball of his scrotum, the two bulges of his fat testicles, I stand naked and stare at Paul's rising cock, dancing up to a vertical position, rearing up from deep within his groin, pointing slightly away from his now naked body in a long thick straight rod of aroused male sex. Naked male sex. Oh my god. 

I let this thought convulse within me. I am naked in front of a naked boy, both of us, he is looking at my bare breasts, my exposed belly, my hard nipples, my thick dark pubic hair, the swollen folds of my virgin cunt. And I can see him, he is naked with me, I can look at his cock, his long hard beautiful fucking cock, his smooth belly, his manly hair, his, his genitals, his tight balls and hard hard cock. I have seen him before I know, touched him, felt him in my mouth, but I am staring now, taking in every detail of his virgin prick, the length of him, the shape, the slight widening in the middle, the curve of his large oval tip, still hidden by the pale hood of his foreskin, this forming a soft wrinkled curl at the very end of his vertical cock. 

Although, I realise, I can no longer move, I have rooted to my spot on the carpet, trembling with desire but unable to act on it. 

"I want... I want to see to all of it... show me all of your cock."

I stare at Paul's hand, as he moves it to his erect penis, and runs his fingers along his rigid stalk, unfurling them, holding himself, gripping his thick shaft and pulling his soft long foreskin back, I watch, my legs weaken, my stomach throbs with desire, my vagina seeps as I look at Paul exposing his shiny smooth darker tip, he steps closer, until we are less than a foot apart, until I am able to look down at his stiff cock, my belly, my bush, my pussy inches from it. I am looking at Paul's thick pubic hair, lighter than mine, a lighter brown, at the dark pouch of his balls, his tight dark scrotum a round full sac of wrinkled skin perched beneath his aroused organ, his skin so tight, his large wonderful strange testicles drawn so close to the thick root of his protruding cock they looked to form part of it, a beautiful round base at the bottom of his male prong.

I moved to the bed, forcing my legs to take me there, feeling my feet, bare on my carpet, my body had never felt so naked, so exposed. I turned, and sat on the end of my bed, facing him, looking. He hadn't moved, I looked at the back of Paul, his broad shoulders, his narrow waist, the full firm curve of his perfect little ass, hairless, pale, creamy white skin. 

My knees were together, my bare legs bent at my knee, I looked at myself, I could see myself in the mirror by the side of my bed, my small slim body, my smooth brown skin, the contrasting nest of my dark pubic hair pushing itself out from the tops of my thighs.

"Paul, turn around."

He did, slowly, I saw his jutting cock in profile, for a second, before he faced me again, walking to be close to me, his solid penis wobbling up and down, bobbling in delicious tiny rigid arcs as he moved to me. 

I looked at him again, closer, my face level with his cock, I breathed deep and smelled him, breathed in his rich aroma, the strange sweet smell of his cock, his balls. I looked at the two smooth cheeks of his bulb, exposed by his retracted foreskin, and raised my face, the tight shiny skin of his exposed tip was glistening wet with clear, slightly bubbly fluid, I bent my head to it, to his hard cock, and kissed the end of it, opening my mouth, sliding my soft lips over his slippery moist cockhead, swirling my tongue over it, around it, tasting the sweet fluid proof of his excitement.

"Oh... oh.. Salima, fuck ... oh fuck...."

I grip his cock hard, stroking it, rubbing his soft skin up and down, squeezing a fresh drop of his thick fluid arousal, and then standing, and, we looked, I looked up, at his face, handsome, almost pretty, his eyes, his lips. I stepped into him and we kissed, as soft, as gentle as before, savouring the moment our lips met, our tongues touched, but, we were both naked now, I felt my breasts, my stiff little nipples touching Paul's bare chest, and I felt his stiff cock pressing against my belly. 

And his hands, oh god, he moved his hands lower, until they were on my small firm naked ass. He pulled me closer to him, his cock felt so hard, so big, pushing against my soft skin, I moved my feet apart, spread my legs a tiny amount, and felt my thick pubic bush against his leg, then the hot tingling skin of my young pussy touched his thigh. I lowered my hands, over his back, and felt myself holding his strong full bare bum. 




Boundaries



Somewhere within all the deceptions, somewhere so far back, I couldn't pinpoint it, I had lost myself. I was no longer that girl who'd been stripped naked and poisoned in a strange bed. I was another girl entirely, one with power, who could make anyone do what she wanted. And like some kind of ghastly avenging angel, I'd sought recompense for what had been done to me. I took control of boys the way he'd taken control of me. I made them powerless. But I couldn't have done any of that. 

It was someone else, some temptress hiding in my mind. I was Lia, Lia who loved only music, Lia who was quiet and shy and virginal, Lia who had always felt awkward and gawky. She was Lia, Lia who was desirable and seductive, Lia who loved nothing, Lia who had the courage to take whatever she needed, by any means necessary.

She would surface when it was inconvenient, and abandon me when I needed her wits and savvy most, without fail.

When Zack Richardson showed up at our concert, I knew exactly what would happen, and somehow I didn't even care. I could tell by the way his eyes flicked over my body, never once looking me in the eyes. I could tell by the way he said "You look nice," as if the compliment were a coin put in a machine that dispensed sex. I could tell by how he winked at my managers, and grabbed me by one arm as if I couldn't stand for myself, and towed me past the rest of the band. I waved wanly at August and Gale and Sawyer as I followed the insistent pull all the way back to his car. He drove, fast to shake off the paparazzi, and I shook my head to clear it.

Again, as was always my lamentable cry, what was I doing? I was going off, God-knows-where, with a boy three years older than me, who I didn't even like. Why, why did I listen to them? Was I so unoriginal that I couldn't think what to do with myself, beyond what they told me? Would that be it, all my life, acting out a play, with the lines set out ahead of time?

Act 2, Scene 2. Alone in a car, except for a lascivious, handsome boy with a little alcohol on his breath.

Zack Richardson parked the car. I didn't know where we were, I didn't know the city. But I hoped both that everyone would find us and that no one would find us. I was afraid, and I was confident. I knew my lines. Even sitting there, even before he turned his beautiful, glorious profile towards me in the gloom, I could think of several ways out, easily. I was surprised to learn I didn't know whether to use them or not.

He kissed me, and in the darkness, I sensed everything like it mattered. Did it matter that I could taste the beers on his tongue, in his mouth? Did it matter that I could feel his hands on me, that they were rough and foreign? Did it matter, did any of it matter? 

No, she said, the siren inside me. No. Live, be. Don't think about it.

Who would care, who would notice, right here and right now, if boundaries were crossed? Who would care if he climbed from the comfortable platonic driver's seat and into my side? Or worse, if he opened the door to the backseat?

My heart did not accelerate. There was no rush to get away. I convinced myself that this was fine, that it was normal to not care for someone and kiss them. Ever since what had happened, I had known better than to think sex and love were intertwined.

I didn't help him. His drunken fingers fumbled with my clothes, getting them half askew, but not off. He didn't seem to care about the fact that his clothes were still on, and I felt a powerful wave of disgust rise up inside of me. 

What was wrong with me, lying in the passenger seat with this pig on top of me? Did I want this? Did I want to wake up and face myself in the morning, when a border had been crossed, and with this drunk piece of shit? 

I balked at the thought. 

"Get off me," I muttered.

He smothered me with his weight again, in the cold foggy darkness.

"Ugh," I groaned, and I squirmed and writhed out from under him, fastening my clothes. He tried to force me back under him, but as he was drunk and I was not, I could manage to dodge. I slammed the door and stomped away from the car, only to realize I had no idea where I was. 

It was the fog-strewn end of a cul-de-sac. It didn't even look vaguely familiar, and judging by how very unsavory his intentions were, I was sure it was very far out of the way. Cursing womanizing Zack Richardson, I hitched my coat tighter and started walking. The fog made me damp and cold, but I was not about to walk back. It was late at night, and he was probably passed out already. 

I cried the whole way, fat, hot tears that melted my frozen face. There was something wrong with me. Didn't I value myself more than that? Would I sink to a level like that, sleep with some drunk pig just because he was there and I was desperate? 

I already had my answer. I would have done it. I wanted to feel normal again, to be with someone closer to my age, to actually have something happen to me when I wanted it and how I wanted it. But I had listened to what I wanted this time, and acted on that, and so maybe there was hope for me yet. Although not so much when it came to directions. The city was huge, and I was hopelessly lost. 

I yanked out my cell phone and scrolled through my phonebook. My friends back home were no good, Jay, yeah right, but what about the rest of the band? Gale, probably asleep, August... probably. I was just about to dial him when I spotted the number below. 

Sawyer. 

Sawyer would come. He would do it. That girl with my face, the one who was not me, the siren born from the rape, she had teased and seduced and tormented him enough that he would do anything for her. 

I called, and he answered on the third ring. "Hello?"

"Hey, Sawyer, it's Lia."

"Lia... where are you?"

"Um." I glanced up to the street sign and read it off to him.

"When are you coming back?"

"I have no clue."

"Want me to come and get you?"

"Yeah," I said pathetically, and I started crying again. Furious with myself, I held my breath to repress my sobs.

"Lia, what happened?"

"Nothing," I gasped

"Did he hurt you?" Sawyer snapped, with an edge to his voice.

"No," I murmured. "No, it's not him, it's me. I'm going crazy."

"No, you're not," Sawyer said firmly. "It's fine. It'll be just fine. I'm coming right now."

He was there in the next half hour. I talked to him the whole way, or rather, he talked to me, reassuring me that I was fine and that Zack Richardson was a horrible person, and I shouldn't lose any sleep over this whole thing.

Finally, the taxi pulled up to the curb, and Sawyer jumped out of the cab and peeled me off of the sidewalk. "It's okay," he reassured me, pulling my sodden jacket off my shoulders. 

I leaned on his shoulder the whole way back, and he kept his arms around me. I didn't care how weird it was for him to unlock the door to my room, or to come in with me and help me take off my dress, which was impossibly wet, or to run hot water into the bathtub for me. He sent me into the bathroom and had my clothes ready for me when I came out. 

"Sawyer?" I called, when I was tucked into the covers of my bed and he was lying on the couch with some extra blankets.

He was instantly alert. "Yeah?"

"You can come here, you know. If you want."

Silence. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse and gravelly. "That's not why I did it."

"I know."

He came, then, his feet almost silent in the plush carpet. I turned over to face him as he slid into the bed beside me, staring at him in the moonlight. He laid down beside me, unmoving under my stare. I leaned down over him, pausing millimeters from his lips, closing my eyes against his warm, even breaths. Then, before I could reconsider it, I pressed my lips to his.

His eyes were wondering when I finally pulled back. "How did you know?" he asked.

I did not know what he meant. "Me too," I said softly, and I drew his hands up to my breasts. He stiffened and groaned.

"Lia..."

"Shh," I told him, and I slipped off the shirt he had so kindly provided me. "Touch me. It's all I want."

He was a boy, or maybe a man, there was no way he would not respond to my request, brazen as it was. His fingers trembled as they met my bare skin, the thumbs stroking over the nipples so gently that I exhaled with a dizzy delight.

"Oh, God, again," I breathed, and he obliged me, soft as a shadow.

She wasn't there, she wasn't. It was me, wanting this, me asking and receiving. I mattered this time, and she would have nothing to do with me, anymore. I didn't need her, I didn't want her. She'd gotten me into enough trouble already, and now I could let her go and find my own way. 

His hands slipped down from my breasts to my stomach, and his mouth found a nipple.

I moaned, desperate, but he had been tortured long enough to wish me some ill will. He pulled back. 

"No?" he said, half-teasing.

"God, yes," I gulped, and I pushed his boxers down to draw his penis out. I lowered my face down toward it, but he touched my chin and tipped it up.

"I just want to be inside you," he said simply, and I could not oblige him fast enough. I pushed aside my underwear.

"Do it," I begged. "Please."

Though I had asked for him to do it quickly, he did not oblige me. His fingers slipped under the band of my underwear and tugged lightly so it slipped down. They skated down, gliding over the mound of hair to linger lightly just above where I wanted him to touch me.

I moaned. "Please," I pleaded again.

He touched me, light as a dream, and desperate, needing more, I arched, moving so his hand slipped inside me and I cried out.

"You're so wet," he said wonderingly.

"Don't wait a minute more then," I panted, and I took his penis in my hand and guided him inside me. My head rocked back as his penis slid into me, filling me with heat and building pleasure. He thrust up into me, experimentally, and I moaned, sinking down to meet him. 

From that moment on, he showed me no mercy. Even as he drove hard into me, he found each and every sensitive place, with fingers and mouth alike. It was as if he was revenging himself on me for the times she had tempted him, making me scream as she had made him want to. 

"I want you to make me come," I gasped. 

He didn't say anything, but he obeyed. He dropped his hand down, the ball of his thumb idly tracing around my clitoris as he slowed the tempo of his thrusts.

"I don't want to make you do anything," he said. His jaw was clenched tight with a strain I didn't understand. "But I want to do what you want."

His thumb glided over that hard little nub, and I shattered around him, my entire body stretched beyond breaking by a glorious contraction. It went on and on, for so long that I felt him gasp, stiffen, and empty himself inside me, and still I was curled and stretched by ecstasy. 

Finally, I was able to speak. "Thank you," I said, with as much dignity as I could manage.

His eyes were direct. "It isn't a service I've performed," he corrected. "I think it should mean something."

"It does," I told him, and I smiled.