1 comments/ 18759 views/ 0 favorites Drip By: WFEATHER she was beautifully bare, bound by thick, leafy vines which curled around her ankles and her wrists to spread her limbs wide and taut. The vines then snaked all around the big massive boulder which had been chiseled down with great care to have a flat surface upon which she could rest. A pillow of petals representing seemingly all colors of the rainbow cushioned her barren head. In the dim light of the awakening day, as the first calls of the birds wafted on the eastern breeze, she shuddered, tugging gently and sensually against the vines which confined her to her prone position atop the chiseled block of stone. The subtle chill of the air still held a trace of the recent winter and a scant scent of the rain which had graced the landscape during the night. her pale skin was testimony to her interior nature, for years taught to serve in her capacity as a maid and as a toy for the men who visited her Master's manor. Despite the secluded area of this secluded planet in this nearly-forgotten region of the galaxy, although only He would see her most of the time, she was more than content to spend the majority of her life indoors, especially during the cold, cold winters, when every source of heat within the mansion still could not dispel the slightest of chills which would harden her nipples to thick points upon her breasts. Yet, here she was, enjoying a rare excursion to the hilltop to the north of the mansion. The semi-sentient vines had been trained well, well enough that they retained their knowledge despite her absence during the lengthy period of bone-chilling cold. The spongy texture of the bluish-green plants felt at once strange yet familiar encircled around her wrists and her ankles. As she pulled against them and reveled in her captivity, the gentle scented breeze arousing her soul, the vines countered with enough force to hold her firmly in place yet with enough slack that she clearly would not be able to escape without her Master's assistance. That single drip seemed to cling to the edge of the candle, unwilling to escape the source of its warmth and plunge downward to grace her writhing bound figure. her smoky eyes half-clouded by the lust which always simmered deep within her and boiled in His presence, she gazed up at the candle, at that single small point of melted wax, that nearly-unnoticeable bulge of red which stubbornly remained with its melted counterparts. Red: His color. He was like a god to her, so red was fittingly appropriate. To be marked with red or made red by Him was an incredible honor. It made her feel owned to be marked in such a manner; it made her feel as if He had claimed her by placing His red seal upon her flesh. Yet, it was only a symbol, for His true claim had been placed upon her heart so many years earlier, during her escape from a life of true bondage, when her body was used and abused not for pleasure, but because she was low-born. He had met her in using her. she had been so thoroughly broken by the Others that she could barely will herself to go through the motions of even feigning enjoyment of the act, and suddenly, something within Him had changed, His eyes softened, and instead of being just sex, it was suddenly something more. He had saved her, in more ways than one. He returned often, specifically requesting her services. Unlike the Others who were High-born, He took His time with her, slowly nudging her out of her permanent despair and carefully extracting the woman locked within her feminine shell, and for the first time in her life, the pleasures of the flesh truly became pleasurable for her. His gentle teaching had not gone unnoticed, for she overheard the Others commenting that she had become more sensual as she was used, her actions more enticing, making it harder and harder for the Other Men to hold back when embedded within her body. she took a secret pride in those praises, and while she still resented being used by most of the Others, she awoke each morning wishing that He would return and request her services again that day. her low-born comrades had also overheard those praises. Jealousies arose quickly. her interactions with her sisters placed an unexpected stress upon her. The lashings she received from their tongues were even worse than the lashings she received from the Others. ...yet He did not lash her in any way for nearly two full seasons, and when He did, He did it not out of aggression or anger, but to show her that even pain could bring her pleasure. With each marking He bestowed upon her flesh, she felt the lick of desire, even though He used the same implements many of the Others had used upon her. When He restrained her, it was done with slow and deliberate care, with a reverence rarely ever afforded to a low-born person such as herself. Whenever He touched her or struck her or sheathed Himself inside her, it was clear that He felt pride simply in her. He did not see her birthclass. He saw her as a person, and in that, she saw Him not as a High-born Man, but as Someone who truly deserved her respect: the one thing she had never given Anyone before Him. The single drip held furiously to the candle by the thinnest thread of heated red wax. her eyes widened as her back arched, willing her heart to rise from her chest to embrace the symbol of His possession - a possession of her body, of her heart, of her soul. The tenuousness of her existence had been nearly at a snapping point. The jealousies of her low-born sisters intensified as they overheard the praises of the Others in reference to her acceptance of pain. Through Him, she had found a way to find solace in her narrow existence. Through Him, she had found her true place in life, and her sisters recognized this and were envious because they had yet to find such a place. Yet, she overheard. He was not immune to being the target of jealousies, for He used her exclusively, and had paid a dear price to ensure that no Other Man could use her. There were several plots afoot to eliminate Him, and as He drove Himself ever closer to her heart, she clutched Him tightly, whispering of her knowledge as she gripped Him fiercely, shedding tears at the thought that He could be torn from life, torn from her. He was the one thing she truly possessed, yet He was clearly much more than a mere "thing." Two nights later, as her sisters slept, He had come for her, wisking her away in an elaborate clandestine manner which she still could not completely comprehend. her final vision of her home planet was of the big orb on the monitor, her former homeland growing smaller and smaller as the ordnance aimed at His small starship finally ceased. He had won freedom - not for her and not for Him, but for T/them. It took several standard years to find this small Earthesque planet on the outer fringes of the galaxy. While this region of space had been charted, there was little to support T/them here, but that also meant that there would be little interest in anyone exacting revenge for the daring escape. Over time, others of like mind from across the galaxy arrived, creating their own lots of seclusion from the dictates of the ununderstanding. T/theirs became a world devoted to the pleasures of Dominance and submission, rather than the social dictates galactically associated with such roles. ...and as the vines held firm, as she hissed loudly through her clenched teeth, a single drop of scalding red wax fell between her breasts and further warmed her heart with His love. Dripping After I have made you come, when my cock is aching from being hard for so long and the only sensation it has known is against your calf while I was licking you ... move over a bit, and let me lie on my back. The dim light from the window casts a shadow up my body, across my chest as if I were growing even longer and thicker. *** The sun was enough today, beating down, radiating from every surface that would reflect it -- but you add the humidity, and walking up the street to my house was like wading through recently-boiled water. I felt the air rippling around me as I climbed the steps to our door. By the time I was turning the knob, I was sweating so hard I couldn't grasp it. My fingers slipped on the brass until I wiped them on my soaked-through shirt. The air in the hallway was aggressively sultry and close, as if it were forcing itself down my throat. If anything, I was sweating more inside the house than out. I came into the living room, where the ceiling fan was rocking precariously as it spun, and found a note scotch-taped to the television. It read, "The air conditioner is broken. I'm in the bedroom." I peeked into the bedroom; the curtains were closed in the window that faced the afternoon sun and three fans were running, all pointed at the bed. And there you were, laying on your stomach, face against the pillow and your soft hair stirring in the breezes. Oh, the glow of your skin, the slight sheen of moisture in the shadowed sunlight, the shades of coral and tan and purest porcelain white blending across your body. The way a drop of sweat trickled down your back as your ribcage lifted and fell. The way your curves shifted as you slept, almost imperceptibly, like sand dunes being transformed by the wind. Quietly, I took off my clothing and stood there in front of a fan. I was still dripping from outside and the hallway; I used my shirt to absorb most of it before dropping it to the floor, but my hair was still soaked at the ends, down my back and across my shoulders. Stray drops fell against my skin as I put my face directly into the fan's path and shook my head. I watched you some more, and I couldn't help but start to touch myself. The breeze dried the sweat between my thighs as I turned, stroking my cock slowly, deliberately. I used two fingers and a thumb to move up and down the shaft, keeping my wrist loose enough to recoil a bit at the end. I got harder and felt the drops breaking out on my forehead and chest again as my hand moved faster. I almost came that way, watching you and breathing heavily; I almost let it happen, close enough that I was dripping on the carpet. But I wanted far more than that. Carefully, I slid into the bed beside you. I could already feel the additional warmth of your body in the bed; I could smell your sweat in the sheets. I rolled on my side, watching you, and my cock was within a centimeter of rubbing against the rise of your ass. It took so much restraint to not straddle you and slide it between your legs just then ... but instead, I took the palm of my hand and slid it down your shoulder blades to your waist and down your hips, gliding smoothly across the sheen of your skin. This woke you up enough that you turned your head to look at me. Sleepily, you mumbled, "Too hot," and took my hand in yours, pulling it close but keeping it from caressing you. "Yes, lover, I know. Let me get something to cool you off." And I got up, walking out of the room. Face back to the pillow, you were almost asleep when I returned. You heard my voice, low and deep, over the rush of the fans. "Do you want something cold, beautiful one?" Then you felt the bed shift beneath my weight. Kneeling on the bed above you, I unwrapped the orange popsicle and held it by its wooden stick. Of course, you didn't know yet what it was; you only knew that something was slowly dripping on your back; you could tell even half-asleep that it was a little too syrupy to be water or an ice cube, and yet it was cold enough to make you catch your breath. I used my finger to swirl the drops across your back, and bent down to lick them up even as more dripped down from above. You looked up, and I showed you the melting length of the ice pop. I licked my lips. "Delicious," I crooned, and added, "roll over." As you did, I tried to keep up with the drops trickling down, but my fingers were already getting sticky. I dripped a little on the sheet before you settled, sitting up a little against the pillow. Your breasts were shining with moisture. You were so beautiful. I teased you a little bit, swirling my tongue against the popsicle, letting it drip once or twice on your stomach, threatening to slide it right between your thighs (you yelped at that one) ... but finally, I brought it to your waiting lips. The way you sucked at it made me even harder. You were awake now, and I could see the gleam in your eyes. I asked, grinning, "Still too hot?" and you licked the whole way down to my fingers, cleaning them off. You sucked the pop in and out of your mouth one more time and sat up to kiss me hard. Your tongue was cold against mine, and the sugary orange taste filled both our mouths. Then you pulled back and murmured wetly, "Keep going." I moved the icy treat down, tracing a line to your collarbone, making you shiver and giggle. Continuing to move it, I used it as a pointer, saying, "And here is your right shoulder, and here is your left ...." I drew two orange lines down toward your breasts, then licked them off. You arched your back, and as I moved toward your nipples they stiffened at the idea of the cold before they even felt it. You could only stand to have it circle around them a couple of times before you were shrieking, "Move it, move it!" As I let the popsicle paint the undersides of your breasts, I warmed your nipples back up by plunging each between my lips and deep into my mouth. I sucked at you until you were moaning, and there were rivulets of sugary cold down to my wrist. It was beginning to melt more quickly, and you were beginning to respond more and more. I slid my free hand between your thighs to see how wet you were, and those fingers were soaked almost as fast. I knelt between your spread thighs, and used the ice pop as a pen to write "SEXY" across your stomach. I then erased the letters with my tongue -- and felt the muscles there, and lower down, flexing over and over again. I let the hand that is already at your pussy move up so I can stroke your clit. Then I pull both hands away from you for a moment, and look up at you. Your face is flushed, you are sweating and your breasts are heaving and dripping with sweat. I grin, and you manage to get out, "Don't you dare stop!" "Don't worry. There's no way I'm stopping now." -- -- and I slide the half-melted treat up your right thigh. I can feel you begin to twitch as the skin is more and more sensitive, as I move higher; particularly since I am following the path with my tongue a moment after. You can feel the chill almost at your pussy, and you are clutching at the sheets with one hand, stroking your clit with the other, wondering what I will do, begging me to do it, not to do it, to touch you and make you come ... and I move to the other thigh and repeat. You arch your back, lifting up from the bed. The cold comes closer and closer ... And again, I pull it back just in time. You moan, half in disappointment. Then I slide it in one long shuddering stroke from your asshole up across your entire pussy and directly against your clit. You shriek. I work it there, teasing up your pussy again, dipping it a bit inside (not far, though, it is beginning to fall off the stick) and back out, while you buck and squeal and growl through your teeth, while your muscles contract, while my tongue moves across you as well, and now the popsicle has fallen off the stick and I have the remnants in my mouth, and I am kissing your cunt sliding my tongue and that ice inside you licking you until you shake and then back up to your clit squeezing the last melting bits under the hood until you can't take it any more and your whole body is going crazy and I can barely hold on for the ride still licking you, my fingers inside fucking you now and you manage to get out, "Fuck me!" -- *** And my cock is so hard it's been dripping across your calf while I licked you -- *** And in one long stroke I push in and it is cold but then so hot so welcoming and wet and I fuck you hard and fast kissing you deep and our bodies thrash together flinging sweat from us like dogs shaking ourselves, and every time I slide deeper into you you convulse harder and kiss harder and I come closer and all at once you are coming, going crazy around my cock, squeezing it so tight as you scream and dig your nails into my shoulders and pull me in and I let myself go and thrust harder and faster and it is rising inside me and then I go, spurt like a garden hose so deep inside you and you can feel it and you let it add to your frenzy and keep coming ... And when it is over, and we both lie there letting the fans do their best to cool us off, and we kiss gently and giggle at the orange stains on the bedspread, even then at utter rest, with the heat and the humidity and the recent exertion -- even then we cannot stop ourselves from dripping. Dripping I love the feeling of cum dripping out of me. As I stood in the hallway listening to my boss telling me about another interminable meeting, I wondered what she would think if she knew that, not five minutes ago, I was on the back fire escape, being fucked by the forklift driver from the warehouse, and that his cum was right now dripping out of my pussy and running down my inner thigh. Would she grab me by the shoulders and push me into her office, would she run her hands down over my blouse, over my breasts, past my waist? Would she sink to her knees and run her hands down to my ankles? Maybe she would then slowly move them up my calves, over my silk stockings, pushing my skirt up until she reached my lacy stocking-tops. As she revealed my thighs, she would see the silvery trail tracing its way down my skin. She would be able to smell my aroused cunt inches from her face as she pushed the skirt high enough to see I was wearing no panties, to see my close-cropped blonde pubes. Maybe she would grab my firm ass and press her face into my crotch, inhaling my scent. Then she would push me back onto her office chair, and I would slide forward so my butt was hanging off the edge. She would push her hands between my knees and force them apart. As my legs opened wide, my sticky pussy lips would peel apart, revealing my glistening hole, and more semen would ooze out. With her hands on my knees, she would move her face in close, then slowly lick the cum off my thigh. She would kiss her way up until I could feel her hot breath on my pussy, then she would look up at me and whisper, "Show me your tits..." I would sensuously unbutton my blouse, gradually revealing my cleavage, pushed up in my lacy white bra. Then I would drag my fingers up from my belly, and with a swift, practiced move, unsnap the front fastening bra. I would slowly peel the cups off, all the while watching her hungry eyes. Once my perky breasts were uncovered, I would cup them in my hands, slowly rolling the nipples between my fingers, making them stiffen and tingle. She would rise up on her knees, licking her lips to suck on them, but I would put my hand on her head and push her back down between my legs. I was the boss now. I would pull her face hard into my cunt, and she would push her tongue as deep as she could into me, lapping up the cum. She would suck and slurp on my lips, running her tongue up and down the folds, making sure she got any that had run down to my asshole. Once all the salty taste was gone, and only my tangy juices remained, she would work her way up to my clit. She would close her lips around it and suck hard. I would gasp, and dig my fingers deep into her lush brunette hair. The sight of her pretty face and her full lips hungrily eating my pussy would be so sexy... She would press her tongue hard on my clit and begin rhythmically rubbing up and down. Her fingers would work their way inside me, forcing more cum out, and quickly find my g-spot. I would arch my back up, pressing my crotch harder against her. I would feel my orgasm rising, but I would want more. Using all my will power, I would push her back and slide to my knees in front of her. My hands still in her hair, I would kiss her, deeply, passionately, tasting the delicious mingling of her, my pussy and the cum. She would pull her sticky fingers out of me and grab my breasts, roughly pinching my nipples as she bit my lips. I would shrug my blouse and bra off, then put my arms around her and unzip her dress, letting it fall. I would deftly unsnap her bra, and she would stop groping me long enough to let the dress and bra fall from her. Before she could get her hands back up to my chest, I would pull her close, our tits pressing against each other, hot skin on skin. I would slide my hands down her back and dig my fingers into her butt cheeks, still ravenously kissing her. I would take a firm grip on the back of her g-string and begin to pull upward. She would make a moaning noise as the thin fabric dug into her ass and pussy. When she couldn't take it any more, she would rise up on her knees so my face was between her breasts. I would lick and suck on her tits, and bite her nipples as hard as she had pinched mine. We would both slowly rise to our feet, our clothing sliding down until I was just in my heels and stockings and she just in her panties, heels and a sexy strand of pearls around her throat. We would kiss more, hands running up and down each others' bodies, until I would turn her round and bend her over the desk. She must not forget who was in charge here. I would admire her perfect ass, then pull her panties down in one swift motion, loving that sexy moment when the fabric catches between her pussy lips, then tugs free. She would step out of them, and as she put her foot back down, I would push it to one side, spreading her legs far enough that her body landed on the desk, the sudden shock of the cold glass making her briefly cry out. I would kneel behind her, then spread her cheeks wide to reveal her pretty little asshole above her shaved pussy. I would tickle her little pucker with the tip of my tongue, then push it firmly into her cunt, swirling in big circles. She would rotate her hips high to give me better access, and her thighs would quiver as I would move down and find her clit, sucking on it as she had done with mine. I would pull back so I could take in that perfect view, then run my fingers up and down her lips, tugging and twisting them. Unconsciously, I would begin to do the same with my own cunt. I would start finger-fucking both of us, and my hips would begin to roll in pleasure in time with hers. Suddenly, she would stand and turn, and push me back onto the floor, determined to reassert her dominance. In a flash, she would straddle my head and press her pussy down on my face. I would be helpless, my only option being to lick her juicy cunt, and I would go at it with all I had. Soon she would be writhing and moaning with pleasure. I would buck my hips up at her to indicate that I wanted the same, and she would bend forward to oblige, spreading me wide with her fingers and swirling her tongue around my clit. I would wriggle one arm free so I could finger her too, and soon we would be working each others' g-spots in sync and rhythmically tonguing each others' clits. My other hand would find her tits hanging down over me and begin to work the nipples, tugging and twisting, sometimes gently, sometimes almost cruelly hard, and she would respond in kind on my clit. We would drive each other to the brink of ecstasy many times, somehow telepathically knowing the exact moment to pull back to prolong the pleasure. Then I would slip one wet finger into her asshole and push her over the edge. I would feel her entire body shudder, and she would groan loudly into my pussy, her fingers clenching up deep inside me. My orgasm would begin, and I would grab her ass and pull her as hard as I could down onto my face. Feeling the reaction of each others' bodies would push our own orgasm further and longer until we both couldn't take it anymore. She would come up for air first, and roll off me, exhausted and panting, and we would lie there for a few minutes, our breasts heaving, our hands resting on each others' thighs. Once my breath was almost back to normal, I would sit up. She would still be lying on her back, her beautiful breasts spread across her chest, her legs still open and her shaved cunt glistening. I would stand up and slowly get dressed, her watching me from the floor, smiling. Once I was back to the corporate dress code, I would quickly snatch up her panties and step into them, hitching up my skirt and giving her one last flash of my ass before quickly stepping out of her office before she could protest. She would have to spend the rest of the day learning the exquisite pleasure of going commando. That would certainly be the very best way for a girl to take care of cum leaking out of her pussy. Dripping on the Train John wiped his forehead on which beads of sweat were beginning to form. He was waiting for the subway after staying late in the office, and the midsummer weather was keeping the underground terminal air thick with humid heat. It was late and he had effectively skipped on dinner, opting instead for a coffeeshop muffin. The napkins that came with it served to absorb a little of his sweat. John started to feel a light breeze and a dull rumble which he associated with a train half a station away. He was eager to make his way home, shower, and head to sleep. He slowly made his way to the end of the platform to board the last car since it was closer to the stairs at his exit. It was just after midnight, the train was approaching, John prepared himself to board an empty car. The sound of well-used breakpads irritated his tired ears as the train came to a halt. John boarded the welcomely air-conditioned car and sat down at the end bench. He barely noticed the presence of the only other passenger, a woman sitting across from him one bench away. She clearly didn't notice him, or at least didn't look his direction. She was surprisingly sprawled out, it being a subway and her seemingly well-dressed - she sort of lay with one leg up on the seatbench. She had earbuds in and was intently viewing some video on her smartphone (presumably stored, the reception inadequate in the tunnels) - the headphones were cranked up sufficiently loud to generate a dull sound that John could barely make out over the white noise of the now-moving train. Was it? A woman moaning? John, slightly aroused by his own wandering imagination, began to notice the sexual posture of the woman. The woman was an attractive caucasian with naturally black hair. She wore no makeup and didn't need it - as John sized her up he noticed her well-sized breasts hanging slightly, with one drooping appealingly towards him. Her nipples were visible as she clearly had no bra and they seemed erect, or at least large to begin with. Only now, surprisingly late did he notice that her legs were spread wide enough that he had a view up her short linen skirt. Her legs were just parted sufficiently that he could see a dark tuft of hair behind semi-transparent panties. "No fucking way," John thought to himself, beginning to be more fully aroused. Again, he heard presumably from the headphones a sound seemingly of a woman moaning. It was hard to make out much over the random noise of the train. The woman was enraptured by her screen - there was a look of longing, of voyeurism on her face. John couldn't help himself, he was simply staring, the fact that she didn't seem to mind his presence made this peculiar situation all the more interesting. Her smooth legs were open and he gazed at her thin, semi-transparent panties. They were light green and didn't quite cover the cheeks of her butt which were pushed up and visible given her slouched posture. As he hungrily consumed the sight of this woman, John noticed his penis bending slightly to the side dripping a mere droplet of his juice. With his busy schedule he hadn't masturbated in days, so the sight of an attractive, clothed woman was still enough to get him going, especially with a view up her skirt on display. Unexpectedly, John noticed the woman shiver slightly in a sexual way and her panties start to get slightly wet - she was dripping her lubricant in such quantity as to leave a wet spot on her underwear. The thrill of seeing this horny stranger's wet cunt through her panties sent a chill of warmth to John's penis. Just as John thought to himself this literally couldn't get any better the woman slowly reached down around her mini-skirt and carefully plucked the side of her panties open to get access to her wet vagina. As her panties were pulled open from the side a strand of juice strung from the tip of her long labia to the edge of the underwear. A bead of her own juice that had formed in the bottom corner of her inner lips dripped down her skin into the top of her anus which was just visible given her laid back position. She leaned back slightly further, her eyes looking slightly upwards towards the ceiling of the subway car, unintentionally giving John a slightly better view. Her finger focused only on her clit and as more liquid formed at the lips of her vagina John eagerly viewed the wetness with increasing intensity. This woman was literally dripping, the abundant folds of her beautiful vagina flapping slightly as she vigorously rubbed herself. Her chest arched spasmed upward slightly which was accompanied by a small but definite spurt of liquid from her vagina. John almost burst himself, surprisingly aroused by this uncommon female. He was now fully aware of his own throbbing penis in his pants which he was too uptight, too well-conditioned to withdraw from his pants. "How could this happen on a subway? I can't cum on a subway," he thought. She picked up the pace, now unashamedly moaning herself. John stared with emphasis on her large meaty pussy lips. He was fully engaged, and couldn't help himself. John quietly stood up and moved a little closer. He didn't know why or what he was thinking, but he was unthinkingly drawn to the woman as she hurled herself towards the beginning of her climax. John reached into his pants, loosening his belt to relieve some of the constriction around his penis. More than anything he wanted to shove his face at the woman's luscious lips and finish her off with his tongue. "What would she think if I did that?" John, unreasonable with horniness pondered, "it would be less offensive to her than if I put my penis in." He knew he was just making an excuse for himself, but at this point he didn't care. he bent over and began lapping the wet juices which soaked the exposed labia. As soon as he began, before the woman could even sit up startled, she came violently. Perhaps heightened and initiated by her surprise the woman's pussy quivered incredibly such that the lips of her pussy danced around John's lapping lips. John thought he noticed her pussy push towards him as if she noticed his presence and invited him to continue. John's mouth was open with dumb eagerness - everything happened so fast. Accompanying her orgasm was an eruption of liquid which filled John's mouth with its burst. The juice kept coming soaking John's face as the woman pulled back, finally aware of his presence with a look of violated fear on her face. John's upper body was soaked. The woman's expression turned from fear to mothering pity. She smiled at him, "You gave me quite a fright sneaking up on me like that. I would say I almost peed myself, but I think you got most of it." He knew full well of female ejaculation, at least as it occurs in porn and was not sure whether this had been "ejaculate" or simply incontinence. Without any hesitation, John replied, "I'm sorry if I startled you, but your dripping cunt was so inviting." The woman looked down and saw both the wet spot from John's precum on his pants and his penis, still erect in his hand. John became aware of the direction of her eyes and his penis softened as she smiled with amusement rather than lust. "I'm glad you used your tongue rather than your penis," she said. He was unsure what to make of that comment. He hadn't been paying attention to the stops at all, but he now realized his stop was coming up, only one more before it. He couldn't think of anything else to say, "I'm soaked." She laughed awkwardly, "I'm Jessica." Though it was well past the point of being appropriate, he licked her now calm pussy-lips a little more, hoping maybe to arouse some reciprocity. She slapped him in the face, smiled and said, "My pussy is plenty satisfied, I don't need you to lick it anymore. What I was watching on my phone involved another hole altogether. Lick that one and there might be something in it for you." John had never done this before but at this point, the mystery woman, Jessica, commanded him and her control was amplified as John's penis was still unsatisfied. With uncertainty, he began to do as she asked. As soon as his lips, gently graced her lower hole, already moist with the sticky pussy-juice that had dripped down there, the woman grabbed his head and forcefully, but affectionately pulled John towards her, forcing his tongue to push slightly inside her anus. John's stop came and went as he affectionately kissed her anus. Jessica was holding his head in place and the semi-forced surrender of his hesitancy to her delighted him. Jessica squirmed. John's nose was rubbing inside Jessica's pussy and the mild odor tantalized him. John, now of his own initiative, lapped her anus hungrily. "That's right you filthy fucker, lick my ass," she almost screamed at him. John didn't respond, but just continued to do as he could tell was pleasing her. She was almost crying with satisfaction, nearing the brink of another orgasm. John's penis was fully hard again. Jessica looked down on him, "okay," she smiled. "You can put your penis in my ass. It's the only hole I let strangers use." Without reading too much into that, John stood up and quickly thrust his penis into her well-lubricated hole. As his penis-head pushed through her soft threshold, Jessica moaned with pleasure. John's penis felt warm and comforted in the deep, smooth, tight pocket. "Fuck my ass as fast as you can." John obliged, already accustomed to listening to this woman and happy with her suggestions. The folds of Jessica's hole wrapped John's penis in slippery satisfaction. John increased the friction and thrusted hard. John groped at her the softness of her ass which pushed upwards at the bottom of his penis, providing additional stimulation. His strokes were perfectly handled such that he would retract just past this rim of his penis tip and re-penetrate, re-opening her tight anus with every couple thrusts. She clenched tight around his penis, heightening the stimulation for both of them. John kept going and noticed, with pleasure, fresh juices oozes from her pussy and moistening his groin. Her vagina, as wet as before, struggled futilely to participate in her pleasure. John new he would burst any moment now - the anticipation had made him ready and now inside her the stimulation was too great for him to last much longer. "I'm coming," he said to her between pants. "Come in my ass," she replied. John pushed deep into Jessica's ass and the tip of his penis pulsed three times with long throbs of ejaculation. As Jessica was being filled with cum, synchronous with the pulses of John's penis, she leaned up and kissed him, forcefully raping his unexpecting mouth with her tongue. Her body convulsed slightly with the mellower, distinct orgasm of anal sex. Her anus tightened as she came with John around his penis. Both of them basked in post-orgasmic afterglow for a moment, before Jessica pulled back, John's slowly shrinking penis sliding out. The train doors opened. John looked at Jessica affectionately, almost presumptively lovingly. Jessica kissed him quickly and friendly on the cheek, and just before the doors closed, she slipped off the train. John got up to follow her, but the doors had shut, his reaction too slow. She turned away without waving. Dripping Taps “What about we make an early night of it, Sid?” asked Freda, without much hope. Sid looked briefly away from the television set and cocking one eye suspiciously asked, “What for, I’m not tired?” “No, well, I just thought it’d be nice,” warbled Freda in what she hoped was a sultry manner, but hope had died even before it was properly born. Sid had two standard answers to her requests, the one he’d just used, “I’m not tired,” or alternatively, “I’m too tired.” “Na,” said Sid, slurping from his glass of ale and returning his gaze to the television set, “I’m watching the replay of the game.” Making one last, but she knew vain endeavour, Freda tried wheedling. “Come on Sid, we haven’t done it for a long time.” “My God, you’re not on about that again, are you? It’s disgusting at your age. What are you, a sex maniac?” That speared Freda to the heart. “Sex maniac!” she exploded, “it’s two years since we did it and even then you didn’t make me come.” Sid, secretly filled with guilt about his low level sexual performance, and knowing he couldn’t, as he put it, “get it up any more,” decided that attack was the best form of defence; “Why the bloody hell don’t you get someone else to fuck you and stop bothering me.” In saying this he felt secure in the fact that Freda was fifty five years old and therefore, in his view, beyond getting a lover. “In any case,” he thought, “she’s always gone on about faithfulness to the marriage vows, so she’d never try it.” As if to confirm his views Freda wailed, “How could you say such a thing to me, Sid, me that’s always been faithful?” She burst into tears. “Aw, for God’s sake turn off the waterworks, Freda, I want to hear the commentary.” “Eooow,” cried Freda, “I wish I could turn off the waterworks, every bloody tap in the house is dripping.” “All right, all right,” yelled Sid, “when I’ve got time I’ll change the bloody washers, now let me watch this in peace.” “You’re always saying, ‘When I’ve got time’,” retaliated Freda, starting her own offensive, “You’ve got nothing but time, and all you do is sit in front of that bloody thing or go to the pub, you bloody impotent sod.” Hit on his raw spot Sid rose and yelled “One more word out of you, and I’ll…” “You’ll what?” Sid sat down again, recalling past physical confrontations with Freda in which he’d come off the worst. For all that Freda was really a tender soul, she was also a lusty woman, and this was precisely what had attracted Sid in his young and potent days. “I like ‘em big and buxom,” he used to tell anyone who’d listen. It was his misfortune that over the forty years of their marriage as he diminished physically, Freda seemed to grow more vigorous, especially in the desires of the flesh department. This no doubt was in part because he had a sedentary job before he retired, and spent his leisure time in front of the television set. On the other hand, Freda maintained rude health through her vigorous house working and gardening, in which activities Sid never participated. So it was that he had a fifty five year old wife who was still burning for his bedtime attentions, and he the possessor of an ever drooping manhood. Unwilling to demean herself further before her incapable husband Freda, resigning to the realities of life, departed the room and made her way to the marital bed chamber. “Sod him,” she thought, as she relieved herself with the dildo, now her constant bedtime solace. Some time later as she lay wakeful in the connubial bed she felt Sid drop in beside her, and after considerable snorting and grunting go to sleep to snore the night away. In the deep watches of the night Freda considered Sid’s words, “Why don’t you bloody well get someone else to fuck you.” She realised that Sid only flung down the challenge because he thought it safe to do so, but she began to weigh her options. “Is it possible for a fifty five year old woman to get herself a lover?” she wondered. Perhaps the only sort of men she could expect to be interested would be men of her own age, but even if she did attract such a man would he not, after the first flush of passion had died, also suffer from that dread disease, Penis Wilt. She decided that what she needed was a hot young lover. “If I was rich,” she meditated, “I could buy myself a young paramour to make dalliance with,” but alas, Freda was not rich. She began to consider her female assets. Thanks to her hairdresser her hair was still nut brown and only a couple of days ago she’d had her roots touched up. The years had put a few creases in her face; two grooves ran from her nose to the corners of her mouth; two more lines were etched between her eyebrows; her neck sagged a little, but she had no double chin; being of solid build she was not scrawny, and her breasts, large and firm in youth, had now surrendered to gravity and child bearing and hung somewhat low, although the brown nipples were still ripe. Her hand wandered down to her belly and felt the folds that pregnancies had endowed her with, then reaching lower she slipped a finger into her vagina thinking, “What a pity it is that people don’t realise that this is still as active as it ever was.” Sure enough, even at that moment, it was crying out for the right to perform that pleasurable function for which nature had so cunningly designed it. Her legs, certainly marked on the thighs with the residue of child bearing, nevertheless retained some of the excellence that had once been theirs in younger days. She sighed and wondered how many other women of her age were lying in their beds yearning for a fulfilment that seemed beyond their reach. “If only I had a Fairy God Mother who would grant me a wish.” Freda wondered what she would wish for. To be forty years younger? For Sid to be restored to potency? To be granted a fiery young lover who would ravish her to death? But there was no Fairy God Mother, so all Freda’s hankering seemed in vain. Now perchance there is a “Divinity that shapes our ends,” and having shaped them may be open to persuasion to change His/Her/Its mind. In past ages, people had worshipped the gods of Fortune, Luck and Chance in the hope that these gods would favour them, and does not every gambler putting his or her coin into the poker machine in this age of scientific rationalism, unknowingly still worship at the feet of these gods? The wheel of fortune spins, and be it chance or divine intervention; it sometimes stops at some point favourable to our hopes and desires. Thus did Chance stride across Freda’s path. It happened next day that Sid departed, as was his custom, to the local hostelry to quaff some foaming ale, and converse with other intellectuals of his own ilk, while Freda, ever the horticulturist, was working in her front garden. Having done some watering she was wrestling with the tap to try and stop it dripping, when Mrs. Sadie Bertram, her neighbour appeared. After making formal greeting, Freda, still engaged in combat with the tap, let forth the following execration; “The bloody thing, it won’t turn off properly; its like every tap in the bloody house, drip, drip, drip.” “Can’t Sid put new washers on,” said Sadie, unknowingly tactless. “Sid! Sid?” Exclaimed our heroine, “It’s as much as the lazy sod can do to lift a glass of ale to his lips.” Sadie, wishing she hadn't mentioned Sid and washers, felt sorry for Freda. “What if my Thomas came round and did them for you, he’s good at that sort of thing and he’s home today.” “Oh Sadie, would he?” said grateful Freda, “I’d give him something for it,” she said, doing a quick mental calculation of her narrow financial means. “I’ll send him round,” Sadie promised, and disappeared into her house. Shortly after Thomas, Sadie’s son and a well set-up youth, ever ripe for a new venture arrived in Freda’s front garden bearing a tool box. “Got dripping tap troubles have you, Freda?” “I’ve got more than taps dripping,” thought Freda, but replied demurely, “Yes, I bought the washers some time ago, but don’t know how to fix them. If I watch you I might be able to do them myself in future.” Thomas began to say, “What about…” Then recalling his mother’s warning not to mention Sid, went on indicating the garden tap, “I make a start on this one? I’ll have to turn the main off, so if you’ll need any water during the next hour you’d better draw some off.” Freda hastened into the house and filled an electric kettle and a saucepan, “Just in case,” then rejoined Thomas in order to watch him changing the washers. With apparent ease Thomas dismantled and reassembled one tap after another, with Freda looking on. When it came to the last offending dripper he said, “Why don’t you try this one.” Freda took the wrench from him and applied it to the hexagon that upon being turned would reveal the inner life of the tap. Unfortunately it was one of those defiant taps that over the years seemed to have welded itself into an unbudgable unity. Freda battled with it for a few moments, then Thomas said, “It’s one of those, is it,” and so saying, placed his hands over Freda’s to add additional force to the struggle. Freda felt a little thrill of pleasure shiver though her. Thomas’ hands felt firm and warm, and their touch brought on a little ticking sensation in her clitoris. “Ah, if only those hands would touch more of me,” she thought. She wondered how tenderly they might fondle her breasts; stroke her mons; and touch her ever moist sex organ. “Would his lips be warm and soft? Would his tongue explore her mouth? His penis could be small, medium or large; it wouldn’t matter, just so long as it…” The recalcitrant tap yielded to their joint effort jerking them forward in its sudden capitulation. The abrupt surrender of the tap and the jerk forward brought the back of Thomas’ hand in contact with the wall behind the tap, with a consequents scraping of flesh and a minor abrasion. Warm youthful blood oozed from the wound and Freda cried out, “Oh Thomas, you’ve hurt yourself.” Thomas, drawing himself up to his full manly stature declared, “It’s nothing, only a scratch.” All her caring female instincts coming to the fore, Freda said, “I must put a plaster on it in case it gets infected.” Macho Thomas protested, but Freda was adamant. Antiseptic was applied and a plaster. During the course of this act of mercy hands once more touched, and Thomas, feeling the gentle caress of Freda’s ministrations, felt a slight twinge in his groin. There was something sensual about that touch. Thomas, puzzled by this minor ferment in his nether region, went to turn on the main and then together they tested every tap inside and outside the house; all was well, not a single drip manifesting itself, “Except,” thought Freda, “were a washer wont help.” “What can I giver you for your work, Thomas,” said Freda, knowing full well what she’d like to give him. “Oh, that okay,” said Thomas airily, while viewing Freda in a way he had never experienced before, “It’s been a pleasure doing it for you,” he said out loud, but thought, “It’d be a pleasure to do something else for the old girl as well; she’s pretty good for her age.” He felt as if he had a particular attraction to Freda’s breasts and Freda noticed his eyes glued upon them. “Got time for a cup of tea or coffee?” she asked. “Certainly have,” replied Thomas, pleased to be able to linger on a bit longer so as to continue his survey of Freda’s mammary delights. Freda set about tea making, considering how she might enhance Thomas’ clear interest in her bosom. Thomas had followed her into the kitchen and was standing watching her. Suddenly Freda gasped and clutched her left breast. “What up?” queried an anxious Thomas. “I’ve got sudden heart palpitations,” moaned Freda. “I can feel them right though my…my…er…ribs, you come a feel.” Thomas approached and Freda seized hand and placed it over her breast. “Can you feel it?” she quavered. “Well, to tell you the truth, no,” Thomas said. “It’s the clothing that stopping you feeling it, try this.” Freda manoeuvred Thomas’ hand up her jumper and cupped it over her bra enclosed breast. “I still can’t feel it,” Thomas declared. “It’s the bra, just a second.” Freda reached round her back and unclipped the bra which sagged down and enabled Thomas to at least partially embrace her left breast. “Can you feel it now?” Thomas at that moment was himself experiencing something like heart palpitations and there was a buzzing noise in his head. “Ah…yes…yes, I think I can,” he replied, referring more to his own condition than to Freda’s. Our heroine in the meantime, although she may have been faking her palpitations originally, now, with Thomas’ hand pressing her breast, was experiencing the real thing. There was not so much a buzzing noise in her head, but it was more like a singing sound. Thomas, in his search for her symptoms, had pressed closer and closer to Freda. She, feeling somewhat light headed and emboldened by his close proximity and her dripping sex organ, let her hand wander down to Thomas’ penis. Feeling it she said, “My God, you’ve got a big'un there.” Thomas, not to be left behind in this contest to feel things, sought Freda’s mons and began to massage it. Freda countered by pulling down Thomas’ zip and grasping the naked flesh of the now hard and dripping phallus. But Thomas was not to be outdone, and his hand roamed up Freda’s skirt, his fingers searching for, and finding, the wet valley of Freda’s female crevice. He then began to seek the source of this wetness by inserting a couple of fingers in Freda’s vaginal canal. By now there was much moaning and gasping as they sort of danced each other into the lounge and onto the divan. The electric kettle in the kitchen, feeling itself abandoned and neglected, steamed for a moment, and then despondently clicked itself off. Words, generally speaking, were superfluous in this situation, since both of them knew where they were heading. There was a flurry of undoing and removing garments until both were naked. Freda laid back, legs as wide as she could get them, while Thomas gazed at the exposed sex organ. Freda reciprocated the stare, taking in the formidable organ on display. “Fuck me, Thomas,” she wailed, “Fuck me hard.” Like a hawk dropping on its prey Thomas plummeted down onto the willing quarry and thrust his fatal spear into her. “Oh God, that’s beautiful,” shrieked Freda as she felt the huge shaft dig into her, “Hurt me, hurt me.” Thomas obliged by squeezing a nipple and digging his teeth into Freda’s lower lip. This brought on a spasm in Freda that included a sudden contraction in her vaginal muscle. This in turn led to a howl from Thomas and a speeding up of his thrusts. Freda felt the first shudders of an orgasm approaching and winding her sturdy legs round Thomas whimpered, “Fuck me to death…fuck me to death.” Thomas did his best to comply with this request and as Freda’s orgasm took her totally in it’s agonising grasp, she convulsed so fiercely that despite the firm grasp of her legs round Thomas, she very nearly threw him off. In an inspired way Thomas managed to counter this expulsion by grasping Freda’s buttocks with his hands and hanging on like the proverbial bull dog. This was all too much for the poor boy, and from being the predator he suddenly became the victim, and giving a loud howl he spat out semen into Freda’s depths. They rocked back and forth in voluptuous embrace for several moments until Thomas had temporarily emptied his testes and Freda had exhausted her orgasmic aftershocks. Lying in post-coital repose Freda made the comment, “Bloody hell boy, you know how to treat a lady.” Thomas, once more not to be outdone, responded, “And you know what a gentleman needs, do you think you might have heart palpitations again about ten o’clock tomorrow morning?” “Very likely,” crooned Freda, knowing that Sid would be well and truly on his way to the pub by then. “Why don’t you drop in and have a feel?” “I’ll do that,” Thomas responded with what sounded like considerable enthusiasm. “You’d better go now,” said Freda, “Sid’ll be reeling in soon.” Thomas departed rejoicing, leaving Freda to contemplate what she would teach Thomas the next day, and the next day, and the next day. When Sid came blearily over the horizon of the family home he failed to notice the bruise flowering on Freda’s lower lip, and fortunately as Freda’s breasts were no longer on display, he had no chance of observing a slightly battered nipple. He went to the kitchen sink and started to wash his hands, then after a pause yelled to Freda who had gone into the lounge, “Hey, the bloody tap’s not dripping.” “No, I had it fixed, I had them all fixed.” Sid, drunk or sober, was ever the money calculator since he needed all possible resources for investing in the brewery came staggering into the lounge. “How much did that cost?” “Nothing,” jeered Freda, “Thomas fixed them so I paid with my body.” Sid hesitated for a moment as his addled wits tried to encompass this statement, then he burst into bibulous laughter. “You should be so lucky,” he slobbered, “who’d want to get his hands into your plackets you silly old bird?” Freda smiled a secret smile and said, “I can still dream, can’t I?” Sid returned to his minor ablutions still guffawing. Freda wondered if Thomas would like the taste of female love juice. Dripping Wet Jim and I were walking to our car. We hadn't quite made it out of the mall. As we passed the last location before the exit doors we both looked over and saw several ladies doing aerobics. Of course all of them looked great dressed in their leotards and tights. Of course the mall just happened to put benches right in front of the gym's window. Both of us decided we needed to rest for a minute before we walk out into the parking lot. Not trying to look like perverts staring at these women we more or less sat there and tried to look to interested in the ladies working out. Really and truly we weren't too interested in the ladies, we were more interested in what they were wearing. Most of them had on the old fashioned tights, with feet, on under their leotards. You just don't see many women wearing that style of tights, anymore. Usually they're knee length or ankle lengths. Jim and I both preferred the tights with feet. In fact we had just come from our favorite sporting goods store after buying some tights and leotards. For us, not for our wives. Jim and I live together. We've lived together for a long time. We were friends back in high school. And as you can tell we've stayed friends. Anyway, it's not so embarrassing to buy women's workout clothing anymore. We just go in together and pick out something and but it. We used to ask the salesperson if they thought our wives might like what we were buying. Now we just buy. I don't think anybody even cares anymore if you're gay or not. Jim and I had enough of watching the women so we decided to go home. We already had quite a large collection of tights and leotards, but there was always room for more. We made it back to our apartment and each headed for his bedroom. We may be gay but we still liked a little privacy once in a while. Now all we wanted was to try on our new outfits. We had both purchased the same style just in different colors. Mine was a solid red one- piece, thong leotard with matching tights and Jim's were nude color thong with matching tights. Both of us walked out of our rooms at the same time. Modeling for each other was sometimes more exciting than anything else we did. I loved the way the thong crotch of the leotard pulled the tights up in the crack of my butt. Moreover, I loved seeing the way Jim's leotard did the same to him. There was just something about having these kind of clothes on that did something to both of us. It was getting late in the evening so we decided to keep our new outfits on for the night. We made a light supper and ate in front of the television. Then we both plopped our butts down on the couch. It was totally dark in the apartment now except for the light from the TV. We both had our legs up on the couch. I felt Jim move his foot right between my legs as close to my crotch as he good with out touching me, yet. I just waited to see what he had in mind. It had been awhile since either of us had started anything. That's why I wanted to get something new that might provide that extra spark. FIt wasn't much of a wait until Jim moved his foot close enough that his foot was resting on my crotch. Just the thought of his foot with the tights on rubbing against my crotch gave me an instant erection. Although my tights and leotard were doing a good job of holding that back but it was there. And Jim felt it. His toes were working their magic on me now. We had learned that the first time never lasted long enough and we usually would do something to make each other orgasm before the long round of lovemaking started. As I said the first time wasn't taking long. I could feel my sperm trying to move up my shaft but as tight as the leotard was it wasn't moving fast. I reached down and pulled the crotch of the leotard out of my butt far enough to give myself some room in the tights for something to happen. That did the trick. It wasn't long before I came all over myself inside the tights and leotards. I leaned back and closed my eyes until I was completely through emptying my load enjoying that great feeling. I finally opened my eyes and could feel my sperm running down to my butt hole. Since the red color of my outfit showed wet spots real easily I could see my crotch was sopping wet and I could also see that Jim's flesh colored tights he had on were wet around the toes where he had been massaging me. I pulled his foot up to my mouth and tried to suck all my sperm of his tights. I could tell he was ready so I didn't waste anymore time. I changed positions on the couch and started rubbing his penis through his tights and leotards. I knew it wouldn't take him long, either. However, it surprised me when he pulled my face down into his crotch, so quickly and I could feel the wetness from his sperm shooting off inside his outfit. I automatically started trying to suck everything I could from his crotch. The more he came the faster I sucked. I could smell that new smell of his tights and leotard and for some reason that got me going more. His orgasm finally came to an end. Nevertheless, I kept sucking for awhile longer until my tongue got sore. I don't know how much of his sperm I got through the material but it certainly tasted good. He relaxed and leaned back on the couch and I sat up and changed positions back to normal. When I moved I could feel my wet butt hole from my sperm still leaking out of me. That is such an erotic feeling you just can't imagine. I guess we both just wanted to lay there and enjoy that feeling. In fact we must have enjoyed it too much. Next thing I knew it was two in the morning and we were still on the couch. Jim was still sleeping just as he had been sitting there all night. I woke him up and told him to go to bed. I don't think neither of us wanted to do anything else that night. We both stumbled to our own bedrooms and crawled into bed. My crotch was still almost as wet as it had been right after my orgasm. I pulled the sheets up over me and kept my tights and leotard on and wondered if Jim's crotch was still wet. I could feel that old feeling growing in my groin. I had to put that thought to bed too. Jim wasn't going to be anymore fun tonight. Dripping Wet Sliding open the shower door I step in behind you, looking over your shoulder you see my naked body, standing, exposed. Narrowing the distance between us for each inch seems like a mile, I place my arms around you, hands firm against your chest. I start to kiss your shoulders, working my way across them my lips caress your wet skin as the heat from my mouth evaporates the tiny water droplets that refuse to run off your body. My hands start to glide over your chest, moving to a rhythm all their own, gently raking fingers through the hair, teasing your nipples as they pass by. They start their slow journey down toward your swelling penis, pausing every few inches to scrape a fingernail along your skin. My fingers reach their goal and slide along the length of your shaft, lightly caressing it as it grows in my hand. My grip tightening as it nears the base only to loosen so the tips of my nails just graze the sensitive head. I continue to kiss your back as my other hand cups your balls, squeezing gently causing you to moan. Without removing one hand, I slip around you to stand under the stream of water, tilting my head back enjoying the feel of the heat against my skin. You lower your head and start to kiss my neck, soft kisses, just long enough to heat the flesh below your lips before moving on to another spot, while your hands reach up to take possession of my breasts. The sensation of your hands running over my flesh is enough to let a gasp escape from my lips. I reach up to knot my hands in your hair, guiding your head lower so that I can feel your lips on my breasts as well. Your tongue darts in and out of your mouth teasing my nipples sending waves of desire through my body. I want you, I need you... Turning me around you gently push me up against the tiled wall forcing my hard nipples to touch the cool stone. You kiss the back of my neck as you raise my arms to lay my hands flat against the wall. Gliding your own hands down along my back you ask if I am ready for the pleasure you are about to instill on my body, I don't trust myself to speak; for I know what you can do to my body and many times it's more than I can take, so I just nod instead. You press your body against mine and I feel your penis hard against my back, your hand slides over my ass, round my hips and slips between my legs. Parting my shaved lips, your fingers journey to your treasure, my pearl. I let out a gasp at the first touch. You start to slowly caress it, gently pinching it between your thumb and finger, and as my breathing becomes more shallow your fingers become more insistent. Instinctively I reach out to grab onto something, anything, but I have nothing to hold onto as my legs start to tremble, betraying my lust. You increase your rhythmic plucking, playing me like a well-loved guitar, and my moans sing along to a song all our own. You whisper something in my ear but I am unable to hear you for the blood pumping through my body is as loud as an African drum. Turning me to face you once again, you lean me back against the wall and drop to your knees in front of me. In a daze I let my hands rest on your head to steady my self as you part my legs and start your oral possession of my most sensitive spot. The heat from your lips burns my bare flesh sending my desire soaring like adding another piece of dry wood to an already out of control bonfire. Your tongue, your magical, mystical, amazing tongue flicks out and caresses my swollen clit. I shudder involuntarily and your strong hands firmly grip my hips shifting my body ever so slightly to give yourself the ultimate view. My fingers curl in your hair as you suck my clit into your mouth, gently rolling it between your teeth. I almost stop breathing now for fear of this sensation escaping when I exhale. You slid your hands behind me, cupping my ass, and pull me closer while your tongue darts in and out of me, deeper and deeper with each flick. I grind against our face ,willing you in me deeper, wanting you in me deeper. Now... I pull back on your hair forcing you to stop, regretting it the moment your lips leave my flesh. Looking down at you through glazed eyes I smile at the sight of my juices glistening on your chin. Standing up you go to let the water wash over your face but I stop you. I cup your face in my hands and pull you down to me, our lips meet in a soft kiss, my tongue darts out to lick yours and the taste of my nectar on your lips sends a wild rush of desire through my entire body. My tongue becomes more insistent trying to extract every ounce of myself from your mouth. Our tongues meet in a duel, sparring with each other, one gaining ground while the other is forced back, only to reverse positions a moment later. We break away from the kiss, both of us gasping for breath. My hands come to rest on your chest, feeling your heart pounding against them, knowing mine almost beats to the same unsteady rhythm. You lean me back up against the tiles and as the water flows over or bodies your hand slides down over my hips, along my thigh, to pull my leg up against yours. My hand eases down between us to grab your thick shaft and guide it to the opening of my aching sex. You slowly slide your penis in me, impaling me on your shaft. One hand reaches around my back to pull me closer as your other one braces yourself against the wall above my shoulder. I reach up to grab on to you, balancing myself on the toes of one foot as you start to thrust your hips driving yourself deeper only to pull back just leaving the tip of your head within me. I lean my head to the side as you lower yours to kiss my shoulder. I whisper your name while I still have breath to do it as you guide your mouth up the side of my neck, letting your tongue flick out to lick the water dripping down my skin. We move as one as you move inside me, our wild rocking like a primal dance. I hold you tighter, trying to force your body into mine so that we may become one, one body, one mind, one soul, sharing the same passion. Your lips travel up my neck to kiss me once more. Your hand against my back, fingers spread, holding me closer as we come closer to climax. Our only goal at this point is to come as one. I reach down between us to rub my clit in time with your thrusts, the sensation of you inside me and my own hand on me sends tiny lightning bolts through my entire body. As my fingers play with myself they lightly brush against your throbbing member increasing both our pleasure. My breathing quickens and my legs start to quake as I near my high, you take note and quicken your pace. Laying my head on your shoulder, lips pressed along your neck, hands tangled in your hair, I come, and as I tighten with convulsions you are unable to hold on and spend yourself within me. The feeling of your seed spilling in me enhances my climax and I let out a long deep moan. I lean against the wall and hold you close. We stand there under the water, not moving for what seems like an eternity, but in actuality only a few moments, until we are able to catch our breath. You pull out of me and before turning away you place a kiss on my forehead, letting your lips linger for a few seconds. You leave me alone in the shower, I stand under stream and let the water cool my burning flesh. When I am ready I turn off the water and slide open the shower door. Looking up I smile, I see you standing there, dripping wet, holding out a towel for me. Dripping Wet She's been thinking about you all day. * * * * * Click Here to listen. (2 min/mp3) * * * * * Dripping Wet I'd just returned home to my new apartment. It was September, but chilly, and had been pouring. I left my boots on and traipsed to the kitchen to start putting my groceries away. Ding! I looked at my phone. Normally, I would've just let the message go until later, but it was him. I picked it up and swiped it open to read, "I'm here." It was from the man I'd been exchanging messages with for a few months. My life as a grad student in the middle of a divorce had not yet allowed proper time for us to meet, but he had remained patient and not pushy. How could he possibly be at my place!? I hadn't told him where I moved to! I panicked a bit, slightly terror stricken, but mostly just shocked. I knew he would never hurt me, and he had joked many times about showing up unexpectedly, but he couldn't possibly be at my place. Could he? I crept over to my front door and peered through the peep hole. There he was. I backed up. I glanced at myself in the mirror above the foyer table. I looked terrible, wet hair matted to my face, mascara running down my cheeks from the rain. I hadn't eaten properly in days nor had a decent night's sleep in weeks. The stress of my semester and impending divorce showed heavily on my face. I didn't know what to do. I couldn't let him just stand there. I knew he had no intentions of harming me, I just didn't expect this. I took a deep breath, and reluctantly opened the door. "Well, hello. Would you like to come in then? The place looks like a bomb went off, sorry." He was standing there, as wet as I was, intently staring through my eyes. He said nothing, but put his hand on my shoulder and led me back inside. He closed the door behind him, but didn't lock it. That relieved me quite a bit. I removed my soaking wet pea coat and hung it up, kicking some boxes out of the way. "Can I take your coat for you?" He took it off, but instead folded it over the top of the bar stool at my counter-"Don't worry, I won't be here long." "How did you ev-" He put his finger up to my lips. He looked at me sternly, then said, "Take your shirt off." Sensing my hesitation, he looked me square in the eye and said, "Now, please." I started to peel my wet shirt up, but he stopped me as soon as it was over my face. He grabbed my crossed wrists and put his hand on the side of my ribcage, right over the band of my bra. His thumb was rocking back and forth on my skin above it, threatening to move into my armpit. He knows I'm incredibly ticklish. It's what drives him. He's a methodical practitioner of sensory exploration. He moved his thumb up further. I was squirming. He released my wrists. I felt his fingertips across the top of my breasts, dancing along the curvature and crevice. Then, nothing. I stood there with my wet shirt over my face, unable to see, arms bound by the fabric. I was unable to see, but I heard everything as clear as a bell. I heard the clinking of his belt buckle, and the sound of his zipper. "You may finish taking it off now." I raised my shirt above my face and there it was...dripping, glistening with cum, protruding through the hole in his pants. I was salivating, biting the corner of my bottom lip. "Get over here and take care of this, now." I started getting down in front of him and he grabbed my hair to halt me as soon as I was on one knee. He lifted my chin with one finger and narrowed his eyes at me. "Did I or did I not say that you were to be barefoot in front of me at all times?" I was three inches away from his throbbing, taunting cock and I couldn't think. "Didn't I also instruct you to acknowledge me with 'yes, Sir' each time I speak to you?" I stammered, "I, I...I'm sorry, Sir." "Sorry is for naughty girls who deserve punishment." He walked over to the couch and instructed, "Strip, then I want you bent over the end here." Defeated, I unsnapped my bra and fought with peeling my sopping wet jeans, socks, and boots off. I felt so vulnerable. I couldn't look him in the eye as I walked over toward him. I leaned over and offered my nakedness to him. He stood behind me, and I could feel his hardness pressing into the back of my thigh. I was anxious, but excited for what was coming next. I felt his hands on my sides, right under my arms, threatening the same place he did earlier. I giggled. He tapped lightly on my cold, clammy skin as he made his way down to my hips, where he dug his fingers into my flesh and squeezed. I wanted so badly to feel him inside of me, for him to claim his property. Then he backed up. My face fell. "One for each boot, one for each sock, two because I had to remind you, two for not addressing me properly, and one for your hesitation earlier. Fuck it, let's make it an even ten for making me wait all of this time." I felt the sting of his strong hand as it landed on my right, then left ass cheek. It stung especially hard on my damp skin. I slipped inside the mental space I enter when receiving pain, which magically translates it into pleasure. I could feel my wetness as my pussy lips rubbed together while I squirmed in an attempt to escape the blows. I yelped into the cushion, my lips curling into a smile as I felt my skin grow hotter with each smack. I knew it was bright pink already. When the last of my punishment was administered, I felt him back on top of me, a fistful of hair yanking me backward, as he pressed the tip of his cock into my wetness. I raised up on my toes, begging to feel him closer and cried out in desperation. I needed him in me, taking over my body, using me. He whispered into my ear, "You know better and you will be my good girl from now on, won't you slut?" "Yes, Sir!" I moaned. "Good. NOW get on your knees and clean yourself off of my cock. You'll be rewarded if you've done well." I wasted not one second, crawling to my knees below him, gripping the base of his throbbing erection and working it from the tip to the bottom into my mouth, to make it wet enough to slide into the back of my throat. I moaned appreciatively as I tasted his precum mixed with my pussy. He had one hand wrapped in my wet hair, pulling me into him at the slightest hint of me moving too far backward. I reached one hand upward, digging into his ass cheek with my sharp nails and cupped his balls with the other. He was intent on keeping his throbbing cock as deep into me as possible, slowly fucking it in and out of my mouth. He looked down at me as my nose was pressed into his stomach, feasting his eyes on his long lusted after submissive taking his cock all the way down her throat. My teary eyes pleaded with him for his cum. As soon as he made eye contact with me, I moaned quite loudly, stifled by his length filling my throat. There was nothing between us but his need to explode into me and my need to receive it. He gripped my hair even tighter and pulled me into him, then threw his head back and released his reward into my throat. I was struggling against him to breathe, but as soon as I tasted it, an immediate calm came over me. I reveled in the moment, knowing I had completely pleased my Dom. I sat there quietly, not wanting to take him out of my mouth. Months of buildup, sexual tension, discussions about power exchange, the thrill of our dirty little secret were all released in that moment and I wanted it to last forever. He must've sensed it too, because he cupped my face in his hand and stroked my cheek with his thumb. "You're such a good girl." I released him from my mouth and sat back watching him while he pulled himself together. He picked up his coat from the chair, and gazed upon me, naked on the floor. Barefoot, on my knees, wet hair matted to my face and stained with mascara from the rain and the face fucking I'd just been granted. He cracked the door open and said, "I'll see you soon, my slut." Then he was gone.