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For the Weekend Pt. 02 Ch. 01

By: missuscooper



(Author's note: please note this is a continuation of my story "For The Weekend", and will probably make more sense if you read that first. I like to develop plot and characters, so if you are looking for a quick read, this may not be for you. While I do my best not to test the reader's willful suspension of disbelief too much, this ultimately is a story of fantasy—some of mine, some of my husband's, and some suggestions from the readers who have been encouraging me to continue this story. This is not real-life—no one catches diseases in this world, no one gets pregnant, no one is emotionally scarred. If you are not into stories about willingly submissive women, this story is probably not for you.)

*

Sunday. Laundry day. Outside, the freezing rain spattering against the window makes the thought of household chores bearable but not desireable. I would much rather be curled up on the couch in front of the woodstove with my husband Rich, but tasks that cannot be done during the week must be done now. I pass through the kitchen on my way to the laundry room, a basket of underwear bouncing off my thighs as I carry them past the table where Rich sits, checking e-mail. 

"Tim wants to know if I could make you available Wednesday night." I freeze in place at this announcement from my husband and look about, nervously checking to see if the kids are in earshot. I quickly remember they are both at friend's houses for most of the day, and look at Rich.

"Wednesday night?" I reply, my mind trying to buy time while I process what is being asked for. 

"Yeah, he's in town for a meeting that afternoon." Rich's mouth twitches, a hint of a smile sneaking into the corner of his lip. He knows I've been thrown off my stride...

"For dinner?" I ask, my mind racing as I wonder exactly what his plan is. I've seen him four times in the past six months now. Our first meeting was an entire weekend, the second a one-night stay-over in his city, the third a dinner in mine, and the last, a lunch, here as well. The decrease in time spent with him has led me to wonder if he is growing bored with our arrangement—that first weekend was full of new experiences for me, and the second time seemed to be for him to solidify my obedience to him. Our dinner together had ended with me satisfying him orally in his car before he sent me home (the idea that we might be seen by a passerby both terrified and excited me), and the extent of our contact during lunch had been him kissing me gently on the forehead as he headed off to his appointment. Has he decided I'm just not making the grade?

Rich types something. "I'll ask." I begin to move towards the washer again, my mind over-analyzing the request. I load the machine and move back into the kitchen when I hear the ding of an instant message being received. "An overnighter," he says. "Dinner, and then entertainment. Pack a bag if you plan on going to work the next day." 

I try to act nonchalant. "I guess I'm available, if you can take care of things here." Inside, I'm excited at the idea of spending the night in the guise of my alter ego.

At home, I'm a loving wife and mother, working a nine-to-five job as an admin in a legal office, taking care of my husband and children, doing all of the things moms around the world do. I love my husband deeply, and cannot imagine life without him. And yet, for small periods of time, I belong to someone else. Someone who controls my actions, whose needs come first and decides whether my own needs, wants and desires are to be fulfilled at that time. That first weekend was an experiment, a test, and was a fantasy that I realized I wished to repeat, and that my husband was comfortable with me living out.

"No worries here," he says with more of his smile creeping in. "So, shall I give him permission to use you?"

I nod shyly, and wait for him to begin typing again. He presses the enter key with a flourish, and looks up at me expectantly. I avert my gaze and leave the room, ostensibly to gather more laundry, in reality to await my husband in our bedroom, naked and spread for him. He does not disappoint, and we make love, the knowledge of what I have committed to driving us both. I am comforted by the fact that it is Rich I am thinking of during our coupling, and not Tim. 

The week passes slowly, the excitement of something new and forbidden upcoming in my routine making my work days seem very dull. The one thing that does worry me is that Tim will be meeting me in the town Rich and I live in. Indeed, we'll be having dinner just a quarter mile from my office. Will someone see me and think I'm having an affair? What if they see me going in or coming out of the hotel with a strange man? What if Tim makes me do something risqué? I grudgingly realize that the fear of all of these things are part of what makes what I am about to do so exciting. 

I spend Wednesday afternoon trying to decide if I should change into something a bit sexier after work, or remain in my office attire. The officewear wins out, if for no other reason so as not to attract any more attention than necessary. I abandon any pretenses of concentration at 5pm and drive the short distance to the restaurant. I park next to Tim's white Ford truck and go inside, trying my best to look calm and relaxed while my stomach is knotted up from the anxiety of what may happen over the next twelve hours. A stop at the hostess's station lets me scan the parts of the dining room I can see, looking for his salt-and pepper hair above the other diners. I spot him off in the corner and refuse the hostess's help, moving through the partly-full room towards him, trying to project an air of confidence as I walk. He sees me and smiles in greeting, getting up to meet me and pull out my chair, ever the perfect gentleman. Tim kisses me on the cheek as I reach the table. "Very nice to see you," he says, waiting for me to sit. "You look wonderful."

"Thank you, so do you," I tell him, keeping eye contact as I sit. He does, really. A grey suit and white shirt, dark blue tie, your typical savvy businessman. Just as I have my alter ego, so does he...

We talk as two old friends for the next hour, comparing notes from our lives as we eat and drink. I continued to scan the room for anyone I might know, anyone who might question my choice of company. Tim seems to be most interested in my life outside of home and work, and soon I am telling him about my friends. Most of my stories are about Anne, my closest friend. I tell him how we have been friends ever since she and her husband Dennis moved to the neighborhood nine years ago, how Dennis had been killed by a drunk driver three years ago, and how the insurance settlements had allowed her to work as a free-lance museum consultant and volunteer her time to various organizations. 

"Is she romantically involved with anyone?" Tim's question catches me a little off-guard, but I answer quickly.

"No, a few dates, but nothing serious. I don't think she's ready for anything serious..."

"Is she sexually active?" I'm even more taken aback by this question, but answer anyways.

"I think she's had a couple of one-night stands, but nothing recently." My normal reserve in talking about such matters is down, and I add in a low voice, "I think one of them was with her college roommate. She told me once they had done that several times back in when they were younger, and she always wanted to try it again." 

"So, do you think she's a Lesbian?" he asks. Tim doesn't seem to passing judgement, just asking as if were inquiring about her preferences in dress styles.

"Oh no," I assure him quickly. "She's always seemed a bit more sexually open than me. I think she just saw the opportunity and made the most of it."

"Did she ever make a pass at you?"

I stop and think a moment. "I don't think so," I say slowly, thinking that until six months ago, I probably would have been too naïve to recognize an advance from another woman for what it was. Until that first weekend, the thought of another woman was fantasy material for sessions with my vibrator, not real-life...

Tim smiles, as if he knows something I don't, and the subject gradually changes to other topics. We finish dinner and our drinks, the alcohol sharpening the anticipation of what I know must be coming. The check comes and he squares it away, rising and gallantly moving to help me out of my own chair. We move to the parking lot together, still scanning the diners for familiar faces as I go. I climb into my SUV and start the engine as he stands by the open door. 

"The Fairfield," he says in the form of a command. "I'll meet you there. And you will remove everything underneath your coat before I see you again. Whatever you take off can be left on the passenger seat. Do you understand?" 

I nod, shocked at the request, thankful that I had worn my London Fog today, and not my ski parka . "Yes." 

"Good." With that, he gently shuts my door and moves to his truck. My mind begins to weigh my immediate choices. Should I take my outfit off here, or in the parking lot of the hotel? Is there someplace else in between that might be better? The nearby lampposts do not seem to throw too much light into my car, and I decide to risk it now. I unbutton my coat and begin to work on the garments underneath. Skirt, pantyhose and underwear come off easily enough, but I realize that to remove my shirt and bra, I'll need to remove the coat as well. I prepare as best I can, unbuttoning and unclasping, then quickly lean forward and allow the sleeves of the London Fog to slide off my arms and down my back. Everything is quickly removed down to bare skin, the chill air puckering my now-exposed nipples. Task completed, the coat is tugged back into place, buttoned quickly as much to retain heat as to avoid embarrassment. I sit for a moment and think. One more item lies beneath the fabric. A piece of jewelry, probably not what Tim had in mind when he gave me my directions, but technically under my coat...I reach down and remove a small piece of cut crystal, shaped much like a wine stopper and inlaid with an emerald, from my asshole. Tim had bought this for me on my first weekend with him. He had directed me to wear it whenever we meet, and I had inserted it during my last stop in the bathroom before leaving work. I hold the piece up to briefly examine it before gathering my clothes from the floor and steering wheel, then straighten and lay them on the passenger seat next to me . The crystal, bra and panties are stuffed underneath the skirt in the hopes any passers-by will just think it's dry cleaning to be dropped off. Satisifed, I drive the three miles to the hotel. 

The Fairfield is the nicest hotel in our town. Not nearly as nice as the hotel Tim selected for my first weekend, but still much better than a room you might rent by the hour. I pull in to see his truck already there, engine still running to provide heat in on this below-freezing evening. He climbs out as he sees me pull in and walks to where I am parking several spots over, my reasoning being that if our vehicles are not together, others will not guess we are actually there together, either. He is at my door as I remove the key from the ignition. I open the door to get out, but he steps in front of the opening and stops me. "Let's see."

I know what he is asking for. I move back into my seat and began unbuttoning the coat, looking around nervously to see if my parking spot affords anyone a view. I am somewhat satisfied with my inspection, and finish the unbuttoning. Tim reaches in and flips back the edges of the coat, revealing my nakedness. "Good," he says, weighing my left breast with his hand before moving the flaps back into place. "No buttons," he says. "The belt should do just fine." I want to protest, but realize that is probably not a good idea and do my best to cinch the sash around me as he steps out of my way. I finally step out, my coat parting dangerously as one foot is put on the ground while the other is still in the SUV. I swear I can feel cold air against my pussy. The other foot quickly follows the first to the ground while Tim reaches into the backseat and takes my overnight bag. 

We enter the hotel lobby together, a bored teenage night clerk behind the counter. She looks up briefly and mumbles a greeting before returning to whatever has her interest behind the counter. I keep my hands folded in front of me, hoping to hold the coat shut as we walk. Tim leads the way down the hallway to the left of the counter, finally stopping at room 122. Removing a keycard from his pocket, he swipes it through the lock and pushes the door open, holding it for me to enter. 

It's your typical hotel room, desk directly in front of me, king-sized bed to my right. I see Tim has already been here, his bag on the chair, a grocery bag on the table. The door shuts behind me and Tim moves by, dropping his jacket on the back of the chair under the desk. He turns to look at me. I untie the belt and push the London Fog off of my shoulders, letting it drop to the floor, standing there in nothing but a pair of heels, his eyes traveling up and down my form. Even after my previous times with him, I still feel self-conscious revealing myself to him like this, totally exposed to this man. He is obviously pleased with my condition. 

He kicks off his loafers and loosens his tie. "Come here." I walk to him, not averting my eyes in total submission, but not making eye contact with him, either. I stop just before him and focus on the remains of the knot in his tie. My gaze goes lower as his hands come to his belt buckle and loosen it, then the button of his pants. The zipper slides down with a gentle buzz, and his hands push both pants and underwear down. "Suck me."

I kneel in front of him and am at mouth level with the semi-hard cock peeking out from the folds of his shirt. My fingers gently take hold of the slowly stiffening rod and I bring my lips to it, kissing the head, inhaling his musk. Even after a day of being trapped, it smells wonderful, so manly. I bathe the length with my tongue, down the sides, over the top, underneath, drawing my tongue through the split in his glans. His balls are next, warm and full, the heat still emanating from them as I kiss and take them into my mouth, being careful not to do anything that might cause him pain. The shaft of his cock continues to grow in front of my eyes, the length making me work harder to get to his sac and taint. Eventually I work my way back up to the shaft, again drawing my tongue over it before popping the head in my mouth, letting my lips go to the ridge before drawing back with a slight pop. I continue to tease, my lips traveling a little further down each time before withdrawing so that my lips form a seal over the very tip of the spongy mass at the tip. He sighs contentedly, and I'm gratified to know my efforts are pleasing him. The tips of his fingers graze the skin of my shoulders and upper back, and the tickling sensation is driving me wild. 

Tim's hips start to twitch, the first attempts to drive his spike deeper into me. I've never been able to deep-throat, but practice has allowed me to accommodate more and more of him. His thrusting becomes more insistent as he begins to face fuck me, all efforts at subtlety from either of us abandoned. He withdraws his cock altogether after one particularly violent thrust that comes close to choking me and I try to follow his length as it moves away, my mouth trying to recapture it.

"On the bed," he says as he begins to step out of the pants and boxers puddled at his feet. "Spread 'em and play with your clit for me." I get up and lay back on the nearby bed, spreading my legs as far as possible, me watching him undress, him watching me caress the nub at the top of my slit. In a moment the only piece of attire on either of us are my heels. Tim crawls on to the edge of the bed and begins kissing his way up the inside of my left leg, nuzzling my calf, kissing underneath my knee, nibbling up my inner thigh. Soon he is at the junction of my leg and torso, his tongue circling ever closer to my sex...

"Aren't you missing something?" he says, stopping his advance. He looks up from his crouch to see me with my head raised, looking back at him with a puzzled look. "I believe I told you to always have your ass adorned for me?"

I now understand what he is talking about and panic a bit, afraid that I have made the wrong choice. "You said to take everything off," I answer hurriedly, looking for signs he is displeased. 

He smiles. "I did, didn't I? In that case, good job. Still, it looks too good to just leave as is..." His tongue gently caresses my lips, my finger long-gone from its stroking of my clit. He runs up and down the length of my slit, pushing between my inner and outer lips, spreading my wetness, tasting me. My clit is not ignored; gentle flicks and circles turn across is before he draws back down the center of my sex, savoring the juices that are flowing from me. He brings me ever closer to orgasm, the thought of being with this man combined with the physical pleasure he is giving me...

He stops and gets to his knees, his body between my legs. I think he is about to enter me and tilt my hips to accommodate him, but instead he begins to crawl forward, his legs on either side of my waist. Perhaps he is about to either use my breasts or my mouth? Instead he begins grabbing pillows from the head of the bed, piling them to my right. Satisifed, he moves off of me to my left. "Get that ass in the air," he tells me. "As high as it will go." I move as commanded, a bit of dread filling me as I put my hips on the pillows and my head on the mattress. He has not taken my ass since our first meeting; while Rich has had me several times since, and I have practiced with small vibrators, I am still nervous about taking his length up me that way.

"Reach through your legs and play with yourself," he tells me as he gets off the bed and moves to the bathroom. I do as told, my fingers spreading my wetness up and down my slit, bringing some to my rosebud should Tim decide to take me dry.

He returns and I see I shouldn't have worried as he begins to open the tube of lubricant he has retrieved. Tim climbs back on the bed and kisses each of my asscheeks, then begins spreading the gel up and down my crack, now working it into my puckered hole. I tense, but allow him access as best as I can. Satisfied, he tosses the tube aside and climbs behind me. I feel the tip of his cock touch my rosebud, and with a gentle reminder to "relax," he begins to push. The pain I always expect to feel is not there, rather a sense of fullness and discomfort; even this feeling begins to fade as his staff continues to push up inside of me. "Play with yourself," he reminds me. I realize I had stopped when he began to enter me; I begin again, the sensation playing nicely with everything else I am experiencing at the moment. 

Tim begins a slow rhythm, gently pushing in until his hips meet my ass, then slowly withdrawing. He fucks me for several moments, our soft grunts and moans the only sounds I hear, until I become aware of voices in the next room. I can hear them, can they hear us? Tim doesn't seem too concerned if they can.

"Are you comfortable?" he asks as he continues to push, then pull. 

"I'm getting used to it," I admit. "Having you in there is more natural to me now than before."

He laughs. "Well, that's good, but I wasn't very clear. Are you comfortable with our arrangement so far?"

I think a moment, finding it a little odd he would ask while he is buried deep inside my ass. "I am," I answer finally. "Do you find me...acceptable?"

He laughs again, a very sexy male laugh. "Very. However, I don't think I want you to feel too comfortable." He continues to fuck me in long, slow strokes, and I wonder what that means. "I want you tell your friend Anne what you have been doing for me."


For the Weekend Pt. 02 Ch. 01



"What? No, I can't—"

He slams into me. "You will," he says, he says in his most conversational tone. He withdraws slowly and regains his rhythm.

"But she's my best friend! What if she doesn't approve?"

He slams into me again. "She will, and you will." The same tone to his voice and his cock again withdraws slowly, this time leaving me altogether. I get the message. 

I briefly consider using the safe phrase to release me from this, to buy me some time, but I reject the idea. I nod from my spot on the mattress. "OK."

Tim's cock touches my asshole again. "What are you going to do?"

My eyes are shut, and I'm dimly aware my finger is still strumming my clit. "I'll tell Anne... about us."

"Good." His staff again enters me, this time the feeling not nearly the discomfort it was a moment ago. It actually feels pleasant...not as nice as a hard cock filling my cunt, but not terrible... His motions become more pronounced as he begins to quicken his pace. His exertions are causing the bedframe to knock against the headboard, making that sound most hotel veterans know too well as evidence as to what is going on in the next room. I too am approaching my orgasm, and my cries become more insistent as he fucks me ever harder.

I reach my climax a moment before he does, the feel of him pressing into me deeply as he pulls my hips to him driving my senses wild. He holds his position for a moment while he empties himself into me, then rolls off to my side. I stay where I am, my hips sagging a bit more into the pillows than when I was offering my ass to him, and come down off my high. He smiles at me as he lies there, then rolls off the bed and walks into the bathroom. I watch that tight ass bounce as he moves and I smile appreciatively.

I hear the sound of him urinating, then the sound of running water. He comes back to the bed, his semi-erect cock still bobbing, apparently freshly- washed.

When he returns, I move to make my own trip to the bathroom. "I thought I was supposed to clean you," I ask as I get to my feet.

"You are," he replies, as he pulls the covers back. "You looked pretty comfortable, though, and I was up anyways...don't worry, you'll get your chance."

I smile and take my turn in the bathroom, doing my best to clean his spend from my ass, realizing it is a lost cause and I'll probably be spotting the linens tonight. When I return, the light on my side of the bed is the only one left on, and my covers have been turned down. Tim is underneath the covers on his side. I climb in, and he spoons me, his flaccid member nestled in my asscheeks. No more is mentioned of my promise to him, and I wonder if he was serious as I fall asleep...



For the Weekend Pt. 02 Ch. 02



The sound of the phone ringing awakes us the next morning. "Wakeup call," Tim mumbles, and slips out of his side of the bed. I soon hear the sound of the shower running, and he is bustling about the room. "Breakfast meeting," he explains. "I'd love to spend the morning seeing what trouble we can get you into, but it will have to wait." With that, he is into the bathroom and I can hear the shower curtain opening. I get up and go to join him, but he politely rebuffs me. "Trust me, I'd love you to have you in here with me", he says, "but I know we'll never get out of here on time." Tim is dressed and ready to leave in twenty minutes. He takes me in his arms, he in a fresh suit, me still nude, and holds me for a moment. "I have plans for another evening," he mumbles into my hair, then kisses my cheek. "Remember what I told you to do last night. I expect you to have completed your task before we meet again." His reminder jolts me back to reality. I can only nod and look up at him. Tim picks up his bag and is out the door. 

I hurry to get ready, the start of my own work day fast approaching. After a quick scan of the room for anything either one of us might have missed, I pick up my bag and open the door. I step into the hallway to see a somewhat overweight young woman with bleached blonde frizzy hair walking down the hallway towards me, a cup of coffee in one hand, a muffin and a keycard in the other. She stops at the door next to mine and smiles slyly at me, seeming to acknowledge she heard the activity on our side of the wall last night. I avert my gaze and head for my car. 

The day at work is difficult. I'm doing my best to concentrate, but thoughts of what I had committed to do keep running through my mind. Could I go through with it? What would I tell her? How would she react? All of these compete with the thoughts that I do not want to disappoint Tim, and I actually might want to let someone else in on my secret...

I go an entire week before settling on a plan of action. Daring not to delay any further, fearing that Tim may call for me at any time. I call her to invite myself to her place for a drink and a visit Saturday afternoon; "my house is a little too crazy right now," I explain. Anne goes one step further and offers a lunch date at her house. 

Saturday comes and I walk the short distance up the road to her house. During the summer, we see each other frequently, the warm weather encouraging short trips up the road to her house, or walks down to our house to use the pool; girls' nights out and shopping excursions are the norm. Winter tends to make us want to curl up in our own oasis' of warmth, although I check in on her frequently and make sure she is doing alright. 

I step onto the glassed-in porch on the side of her house, and she is waiting at the door. She is no more than 5 feet tall to my five-foot four, her hair jet black and hanging in gentle curls below her shoulders as compared to my shorter brunette look. Despite my advantage in height, she is a bit heavier than I. Not fat, but well padded in areas men like to grab and hold onto. Her breasts seem to dominate her frame, 36DDs from what I have learned from our shopping excursions. 

She greets me warmly with a hug and steers me towards her kitchen. A pot of soup is simmering on the stove, and freshly baked bread has just come out of the oven. A glass of wine awaits me at my customary seat at her table. We sit and catch up, our public lives shared with each other. We are both into our second glass of wine when I decide it's time to reveal my private life. 

"Anne, can you keep a secret?"

She looks back at me with a mildly amused look. "A secret? You? Miss Prim and Proper? I most certainly can! What is it? Did you tear the tag off a pillow? Rich didn't put another one in the oven, did he?"

I laugh nervously. I had rehearsed several ways to start this conversation, but suddenly, none seem comfortable. "If I tell you, will you promise not to think badly of me?" 

She begins to laugh, but sees the tortured look on my face. "Of course I won't! You're my best friend! How bad can this be?"

"There's this guy..."

Anne's face turns very serious. "You're not thinking about cheating on Rich, are you? Ohmygod, have you already done it?" The look on her face would make me laugh other days. Today, I'm just anxious to calm her fears and get it all out. 

"No, no, I'm not cheating," I say quickly. "Rich knows all about..." I stop, unsure how to continue. Anne's face is still serious, but a questioning look has crept in as well. 

"Look, I know you've always been more open about your sex life than I have," I pause to see if her expression changes—it doesn't. "But Rich and I have fantasized about me being...with..another guy for a while." I pause again to take another breath. "I've also wanted to be...how to put this...owned, I guess...do what somebody else says, whatever he says...Rich knows this guy... he works with him sometimes..."

"Does this guy have a name?"

"Tim."

"And...Tim...makes you do things?"

I nod. 

"Sexual things?" Another nod.

Anne smiles. "Tres kinky! And Rich really is OK with this?"

"Tim has to ask Rich's permission before he can see me."

"And how long has Tim been telling you what to do?"

"Since early summer. I've seen him five times in all."

Anne's expression turns serious again. "You're doing this because you want to and not because you're being forced to, right? You're not in any trouble? You can tell me..."

"No it's my choice. It's hard to describe, but giving up control is a big turn-on for me...it's like I can't be held responsible for what he makes me do."

My friend's expression turns to one of sad amusement. "I think I know what you mean," she says softly. "Dennis and I used to play some bondage games. I loved being tied and cuffed. He could do whatever he wanted, and I couldn't stop him...can't be a slut if you can't say no, right?" 

I nod and take another gulp of wine. Anne's face brightens a bit as she puts away that part of her life which is gone and resumes her questioning. "So, why are you telling me this? You've always been pretty reluctant to tell me much about your sex life."

"Because he told me to tell you," I respond evenly. "He likes to test my boundaries, I think."

"Has he found a boundary you aren't willing to cross yet?"

"No, he just seems to know what I'm willing to do, and goes right up to that edge. Or in this case, pushes me just a little bit past what I thought my limit was."

"So, what HAVE you done?" That sly smile is back on her face.

I laugh. "I don't think I'm ready to talk about that, yet. It was embarrassing enough to tell you this. You're not disgusted with me, are you? I really worried about offending you—you ARE my best friend."

Anne's turn to laugh. "Hell, no! I always worried about what you thought about my experiences. Or have you forgotten about my threesomes in my earlier days?" A strange look flashes across her face, but is gone as quickly as it comes. I have not forgotten her experimentations—or her willingness to play both sides of the fence. She laughs and takes a sip of wine. "I've always wondered whether there was a fire under that cool exterior. Nice to know I'm not the only pervert on this road. Hey, whatever goes on between consenting adults is none of my business—might as well get all of the enjoyment out of life you can." 

I feel my nerves slipping away, being replaced by a feeling of relief and happiness that I am able to reveal my alter ego to someone else, someone I trust. Our conversation continues to skirt the edges of my revelation, never getting too deep into the details. I decide to head home after the second bottle of wine has been finished.

I wobble slightly as I stand to go, pulling on my jacket. Anne escorts me out to the porch, begging me to keep her informed of any new developments. We hug our goodbyes, but she holds onto me for a moment afterwards. "If this gets out of control, you come see me, OK? Any problems, I'll help you out. OK?"

I hug her again. "Thanks, that means a lot to me. But right now, it feels good."

Anne moves her head from my shoulder and looks up at me. Suddenly, her lips are on mine, lingering longer than most friends kisses do. She breaks the touch, and moves away. My head spins. Did my inebriation just make more of that than I should? 

I smile and start my walk back to my house, looking back and waving as I reach the end her walk. She waves back and continues to watch me until I am out of sight. 

As it turns out, I had plenty of time to talk to Anne—Tim does not contact Rich again for a month. When he does, it is again to request my presence for an overnight stay, this time in the next town over. I am to meet him Friday night after work at Alberto's, a restaurant I know well. Very good, and very expensive. In addition to the restaurant, Tim has selected my attire, as well. I realize his choices are not something I can wear to work that day, and begin fretting over where I will change into what Tim has dictated. It's this concern that I call Anne to share.

"Change at work, who cares?" she tells me. "For all they know, you're going out with Rich." 

"The dress is kinda brief," I respond. "A little black number. It's not slutty, but still, not something my coworkers are used to seeing. For all I know, one of the partners will think I'm coming on to him. Maybe I'll just take the afternoon off and get ready at home." 

"The kids are old enough to know that you're dressing up for something special, and Rich isn't going" she reminds me. "Why take the chance of having to lie to them? Just come over here and get dressed."

"Really?" I ask, jumping at the idea. "You won't mind?" 

"Why would I mind?" she asks. "Just because it's going to remind me that you're getting a nice dinner, and getting laid, while I'm eating Lean Cuisine and watching The Bachelor? No, of course it's alright." 

I laugh and sympathize with her plight, but agree to the plan nonetheless. Friday comes, and I leave work a little early to head for Anne's house before doubling back to the restaurant. She greets me at the door dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, her hair pulled back in a ponytail. 

"Hey there," she says as she lets me in, kissing me on the cheek as I move by her carrying my clothes and makeup bag. "Use my bedroom. Need anything while you're getting ready? How about a glass of wine?"

"Perfect!" I tell her. "My nerves are always up when I see him." 

"I can't imagine why," Anne says with a amused grin. "I'll get it," she calls over her shoulder as she moves to the kitchen. "Go get dressed."

I move to her bedroom and lay my dress and bag on her bed. While laying out my things in front of me I notice the unmistakable head of a Hitachi Magic Wand peeking out from underneath a pillow. I smile—my favorite, and a match for the one I have tucked away in my own bag. There's a quick knock on the door, and it opens before I can answer. Anne enters carrying my glass and sets it on the dresser. I thank her and retrieve the glass, taking a sip before I set it down again. She waits, seemingly unwilling to leave the room yet. 

I smile at her, waiting for her to leave. When it is obvious she is not going to, I tell her, "gonna touch up my makeup," and step into her master bathroom. She does not follow me, but does not leave the bedroom, either. 

"Sexy dress," she calls out. "I'll bet it goes great with those heels." I call out my agreement, and she is quiet for a moment. "Garters?" she questions. She obviously is going through my selections.

"Uh huh. That's what I was told to wear."

"I hope the undies you're wearing now match. Looks like you forgot a pair."

"I'm not allowed to wear any."

"Ohh. Really? Miss PTA without underwear? Oh, you slut, you!"

"Just doing what I'm told." 

Makeup done, I step back into the bedroom. Anne is still admiring my garter belt. 

"I'm going to get dressed now."

"OK." She does not appear to be leaving. 

"Umm, would it be OK if you stepped out for a bit? I get kinda shy..."

She snorts derisively. "Geez, Karen I knew you always liked privacy when you were trying on stuff when we shop, but, I would've thought you were over that now...I take it you undress for Tim?" She says in a teasing manner. 

"I do," I say with mock seriousness. "But he tells me to. I have to."

"Well, if I had known...alright, alright, I'll get out. Call me if you need anything." 

She shuts the door behind her and I begin the task of sorting my dress. Garters, stockings and strapless push-up bra are first. I make sure I insert my crystal buttoniere before slipping on the dress and stepping into my heels. I turn once in the mirror to check the fit, and make ready to leave. A thought crosses my mind before I reach the door, though. A nasty thought, a thought that seven months ago I would never have entertained. 

I move to the head of Anne's bed and look back at the closed door behind me to check and make sure it has not come open. Satisfied, I peel back the pillow covering her vibrator and bend over it, putting my nose to the bulbous purple head, breathing deeply of her scent, knowing she must have used it recently. It's heady, stronger than my own, I believe, but a smell that excites me nonetheless. I reluctantly straighten again and put the pillow back in place. Grabbing a maroon wrap and draping it around my shoulders, I head back into the living room, where Anne is sitting on her couch, knees pulled to her chest as she looks at her bedroom door.

"Wow," she says. "You look great. This guy really does have a quite an effect on you—I can't believe you're wearing that?"

"Too slutty?" I say, now worried that perhaps I have overdone it. 

"No, no," she reassures me. "Just way different that what I'm used to seeing you in. I see what you mean now, that would have raised eyebrows at your office, for sure."

I grab my keys. "Gotta go. Thanks for everything—do you mind if I leave my clothes here? I'll pick them up later."

"Of course," she says as she walks me to the door. "Have fun with your master. Be back by 10." 

"I come back when he lets me," I remind her. She laughs, and gives me a quick peck on the lips. Shorter than the previous one, but still, one that surprises me. 

The drive to Alberto's gives me both my nerves and my excitement time to build. What does Tim have in store for me this time? I barely remember the drive, my mind racing with possibilities. The maître'd seems to be expecting me when I walk in to the restaurant. I'm escorted to a table in the back where Tim, immaculately dressed, is waiting. 

Dinner goes much the same as our previous meeting. We talk of work, current events, home life, just two friends comparing life notes. It is when we are finishing our wine that he asks the question.

"Did you do as I said?"

I nod. "I did."

"Good." His expression has not changed. "Did she take it well?" 

"I think so. She reminded me of all the wild thing she has told me about, and that she wasn't upset." 

"Like what wild things?"

I lower my voice. "Well, I told you about the people she has seen after Dennis' passed away...but when she and Dennis were first married, she had some threesomes with Dennis and his best friend."

"Really?" A smile crosses his face. "See? Everyone has their wild side. We're just starting to explore yours."

I study my wineglass in embarrassment at his pronouncement, but say nothing. 

The check comes and we drop my SUV off at the hotel before continuing on to a nearby club for dancing. We are pulling into the parking lot when he asks, "are you wearing your jewelry?" I know exactly what he is asking about.

"Yes, sir," I reply, wondering if he will check for himself. 

"Good. Why don't you take it out for a while. Wouldn't want anything to get in the way of your dance steps, now would we?" I smile self-consciously, but reach under my dress and fish out the crystal, dropping it in my purse. 

Tim escorts me into an upscale club full of couples in their 20s to 40s. The music is what I would call 'sophisticated dance'—enough to make you move quickly, but not enough to make you sweat. While I've always enjoyed being on the dance floor, I know my moves are less than sublime. Tim, I quickly discover, is a wonderful dancer, and leads me through several numbers in more than passable fashion. I'm careful to not show too much, but several spins and dips come perilously close to revealing my lack of underwear. Tim finally sees my need for a break and leads me off the floor and up a level to overlook the scene below. We stand at the rail, sipping our drinks, watching the couple below us dance and socialize. Presently I notice three young men with their dates at the table below us. Each man seems to be taking a quick look up our way before returning his attention to the woman seated next to him. The men continue to sneak peeks, occasionally elbowing each other and grinning. I realize what it is they are looking at. From where they sit, I'm sure they have an excellent look up my dress. I do my best to block their view, but the dress and the railing make it very difficult.

"Tim," I say as quietly as I can. "The guys below us. They're looking up my dress." 

"Really?" he says, looking back at me. "Want me to see if they want a better look?"

I panic at the thought that he might invite them back to our room, but I calm myself. "I don't think their dates would like that."

"True, true. Maybe next time I should make you shave a smily face up there. Well, I know I would like a better look. Would you mind if we head back to the room?"

I quickly agree, thankful that he has chosen to not pursue anything further here. 

In what seems like moments, we are standing in front of our door. As usual, Tim has checked in first, as I can see when he lets me in. The door closes behind me, and I begin to wriggle out of my dress, knowing he requires me to be undressed any time we are in private. 

"Not there," he says, moving to the window and opening the curtain. "Here." 

I swallow my urge to say no and go to where he was standing. I can see into the parking lot from here, and wonder if anyone is looking up this way. I turn my back to the window, hoping this is allowable, and continue to undress, letting the dress fall to my feet before working on the bra. Nude save for my garter and stockings as he sits on the bed and removes his shoes and socks, I wait for further instructions, then begin to work on the garter. 

"Leave them," he tells me. "Put your foot up on the window ledge and rub your cunt."

I do as I'm told, exposing my breasts and the motion of my hand to anyone who looks three floors upward. The fear of being seen is overpowering and it battles with the excitement I feel over the situation, hoping that Tim will let me move soon. I look back to the bed and he is now nude and lying prone, casually fisting his erection as he watches me run my fingers through my slit. I'm only left to expose myself a moment more before he calls me to the bed. 

"I hope you don't mind," he says, "but I've been saving this one up for a while. I just want to work my way up inside that beautiful pussy of yours and leave a big load in you. Now, spread your legs and open that cunt nice and wide for me." 

I roll onto my back, and he is quickly between my legs. There is no teasing this time—his cock quickly splits me and he is balls deep in me with his first thrust. It is quickly obvious that this one is about him—he is going to use me to get off, no concerns for me—and I find this strangely thrilling. To be used for another's pleasure, to be there for his convenience...

Tim suddenly stops his thrusting and moves from between my legs. I look through my spread knees, wondering if I have done something wrong, but he is already rummaging through my purse. He retrieves my cellphone and brings it back to bed with him. Dropping the phone by my head he pushes himself back into me with a single thrust, his elbows supporting his upper chest just above my face. 




For the Weekend Pt. 02 Ch. 02



"The restaurant across the street has breakfast," he says as he begins a slow, easy rhythm. 

"OK," I reply, unsure what else to say. Why is he talking about breakfast at a time like this?

"I'd like to meet Anne. Call her and invite her to breakfast at 8 tomorrow."

"OK," I say again, slower this time. I'm not sure I like the idea, but I'm in no position to argue, impaled as I am on his tool. "As soon as you are done with me."

"Now," he tells me, his tone or his pace never changing. "Let's see how well you can concentrate with a cock in you." I see he is serious, and only take my eyes off of him to find my phone and hit the speed dial. It rings several times before it's picked up, a sleepy voice on the other end.

"Hello?"

"Anne, it's Karen."

"Hey," she says, her voice sounding more alert than before. "Everything OK?"

"Everything's fine. Would you like to have breakfast tomorrow morning?"

"Sure," she says cautiously. "Hey, aren't you supposed to be with Tim?"

"I am. He told me to ask you to breakfast. He's like to meet you." Tim as resumed his thrusting, and I do my best to not allow it to affect my voice.

"Is he there right now?"

"Uh-" Tim takes this moment to thrust particularly hard, causing me to exhale more sharply than I would like. "HUH!"

"Ohmigod! Is he doing you right now?"

I hesitate a moment. "Yes he-is." He seems to be timing each thrust with a syllable. 

"Holy shit! This is so fuckin' wild! Yeah, I think I'd like to meet this guy. Where?"

"The-restaurant across-from the Marriott-INNnnn Springfield. 8. Mmmm..."

"I'll be there. And thanks for nothing. Now I'm worked up."

Something in me decides to have a little fun. "Your-PILlow might help-just make sure-it's got-batteriessssss!

"You bitch!" she laughs. "I thought I hid that. Well, ride 'em, cowgirl. I'll see you in the morning, if you can still walk to the restaurant."

"Guh-night", I moan as Tim plows me even harder. 

"Is she coming?" he asks through gritted teeth.

"Yesss," I tell him, the heels of my stockinged feet riding squarely on his ass. I'm not ready to cum, but the feeling of this man rutting me is making me very happy. 

"So am I," he says, and pushes hard into me, trying to drive himself even deeper, trying to deposit his seed deep up my channel. He pumps reflexively, and I can imagine each squirt puddling inside me...

Tim collapses on top of me, nearly-dead weight pressing me deep into the mattress. I idly scratch his back, trying to make him feel comfortable as he enjoys the remains of his orgasm. Eventually, he rolls over and onto his back, staring at the ceiling, bringing his breathing back to normal. The fingers of his right hand idly tickle my stomach. "Clean me."

I crouch beside him and begin to lick, tasting his salty spend and my own juices as I first use my tongue, then capture his softening manhood in his mouth. I spend a bit more time licking his balls and taint before laying back on the bed next to him. 

"Good job," he tells me, then closes his eyes to sleep. My satisfaction is not his concern this evening; perhaps tomorrow?



For the Weekend Pt. 02 Ch. 03



We awake early the next morning. After showers where I take care of Tim and he in turn checks on my own cleanliness, we both dress in jeans and sweatshirts and head downstairs. We are comfortably ensconced in a booth of the restaurant at ten minutes to eight, awaiting the arrival of my best friend. 

Tim has not told me why he wishes to meet her, indeed, he has not said anything at all about breakfast, instead just telling me how much he enjoyed himself last night. I find myself falling into my submissive role and feeling proud I have satisfied him. 

Anne pokes her head around the corner of the booth at exactly 8am. She smiles broadly when she sees me, then turns her attention to Tim, who does his best to rise from the bench he is sitting on and move out from behind the table. He shakes her hand and allows her to slide in beside me. "You don't look anything like what I expected," she tells him nervously. 

"Really? What did you expect?"

"I dunno, a leather mask, maybe..." she again laughs nervously, Tim laughing as well. I find her discomfort a little surprising—I can't ever remember seeing her this flustered before.

"No, no mask. Leather makes me sweat." 

"Seriously," Anne continues quickly, trying to explain her joke, "Karen described you, but I didn't think you'd look...like..." She smiles apologetically as her voice trails off.

"Are you disappointed?" he asks with a wry smile.

"Oh no, not at all," she stammers, trying not to offend. "You look, normal..."

"I'd like to think I am," Tim says affably. "Just like Karen is, and just like I'm sure you are." He seems to let the last words hang, as if trying to send the message that he knows her secrets. 

"Of course, of course," Anne replies, now thoroughly unnerved. "I just thought you would look more like a bad boy, and less like a nice guy." 

"I think I'm a good guy," he laughs. "I can also be bad."

Anne blushes bright red. "I'm gonna shut up now." 

"You're fine," he sympathizes. "It's very hard to offend me." He looks at me. "Right?"

I nod quickly. "Right, sir." At this, Anne's eyebrows raise a little bit, but no more is said. And so the next hour goes. The reason why I'm here with Tim is discussed obscurely, the details of Anne's life—most mundane, some more personal-- are brought out without her even seeming to realize it. We barely notice ordering and eating. Our stomachs are full when Tim's questioning becomes a bit more pointed.

"So Anne, did Karen tell you exactly what she does for me?"

She looks at him, carefully forming her reply. "Not exactly, just that she does what you say. She seemed a little uncomfortable getting into details."

"Would you like to know the details?" 

She only thinks a moment. "It's probably none of my business, but I think I should know what my best friend is up to. Just to make sure she's OK," she adds quickly. I groan inwardly, but say nothing. 

"Of course. I think you'll find that she is very safe with me, and very much a willing participant." A smile spreads across his face, his eyes locked on mine, as he leans over to her and whispers theatrically "she's a very eager slut when properly motivated." Anne blushes a bit and looks at me for a reaction before her eyes dart to her plate. "This is probably not the best place to discuss it, "Tim tells her as he straightens up again."If you would like, we can continue our conversation up in my room?" 

"Is Karen going to be there?"

"Of course. She's going to tell you whatever you would like to know." At this, my stomach lurches yet again. 

"I'm not going to get taken advantage of, am I?" she asks nervously.

"If you were, do you think I would tell you? But no, you aren't. It's just to talk in private and satisfy your curiosity." He emphasizes the word 'curiosity', but she doesn't seem to notice. 

"OK, I guess," she tells him. "No funny stuff, though."

Later, as we are walking through the lobby, Tim leans in and whispers in my ear "you can leave your clothes on when we get to the room." I'm puzzled by this, and only a little relieved—my humiliation is just being delayed.

Tim opens our door and lets us in before closing it behind him. He offers Anne a seat on the couch while he takes the chair by the desk. Only then does he tell me I can sit on the bed. 

"So Karen, I think if you tell Anne what you did your first weekend, she might have a pretty good idea the type of things I expect you to do. Don't you agree?"

"Yes sir."

"So, tell her. From the beginning. And be descriptive."

I turn my attention to Anne, face burning furiously, my hands grasping each other in my lap. "When I arrived, Tim had me dance for him. Then, I ...gave him oral—"

Tim interrupts. "She sucked my cock," he says. "No need to sugarcoat it, Karen. I'm sure Anne knows what it means."

"I sucked his cock," I repeat. "And then he marked me."

"Do you know what marking is?" Tim asks her. Anne shakes her head no. "It's when you cum on someone—like marking your territory. In this case, I came all over her face. It was pretty spectacular."

I continue to rattle off my 'achievements' for the next ten minutes, telling her about my trip to the sex shop, my flirtations with the bellboy, my massage, the poker game, and Sunday afternoon. My eyes are on her feet most of the time, unable to look her squarely in the eye for more than a few seconds at a time. Tim makes sure I am as graphic as possible. For her part, Anne seems neither horrified or disgusted, but instead enthralled with my story, her breathing deepening as I speak. I finish with Rich finding me tied to the bed, and fall silent.

"Holy shit, Karen," she breathes. "I never knew you could be so...wild...I had no idea!" Her eyes narrow. "Did you REALLY do this because you want to, or because he told you to?"

"Both," I answer truthfully. "If he hadn't told me to, I wouldn't have ever had the nerve..."

"Wow...just wow," she says with a tone of admiration. "Who'd have ever thought my proper little best friend could be the town pump?" She is smiling at me, trying to show me she is joking. 

"Has she ever even undressed in front of you?" Tim asks, already guessing the answer.

Anne laughs. "Did she tell you she got dressed at my house yesterday for you? She kicked me out of my own bedroom before she'd take off her shirt."

"Did she?" he says. "Well, that's not a proper way for her to act. Would you like to see her undress now?" My face feels hot from blushing.

"What? Now? No, I couldn't ask her to do that..."

"You're not asking her. I'm offering her willingness to do it." 

She thinks for a moment, looking back and forth between Tim and me. "This is so weird...Karen, are you OK with all this?"

"It's not up to her, it's up to me," Tim reminds her. "But if you wish, she can tell you herself. Karen, are you willing to get naked for your friend?" 

Despite my true feelings, I know there is only one correct answer. "Yes sir, if she would like me to." Tim just looks at her with raised eyebrows. Anne continues to weigh her response.

"I know she says she gets hot when she's told what to do, but even this?" No answer comes from either myself or Tim, and she makes up her mind. "If this is turning her on...I think she wants to have to show me," she says as if trying to justify her decision. "I've always wondered what those Soccer-Mom clothes were hiding. Yes, I'd like to see what she looks like."

Tim returns his stare to me. "Karen, you heard the lady. Stand up. Anne, what would you like her to remove first?" 

My best friend eyes me with a look I have never seen before. "The sweatshirt," she says. I comply with her command, looking at him rather than Anne as I pull the garment over my head, revealing a lacy undershirt. My breasts are unfettered underneath the fabric, and my nipples poke into the delicate material. 

"Shoes," she says next. I bend over to untie them before removing them, the front of my shirt falling away from by tits. I kick off the shoes and wait for my next instruction. Despite my initial reluctance, my arousal grows, fueled by the thought I'm being told to strip for my best friend.

"Shirt, please." I unbutton my jeans and pull the thin garment over my head, revealing my breasts to my audience. I look at the floor, unwilling to see either's reaction. "Nice tits, huh?" Tim asks my friend. "Not huge, but more than enough to slide a cock between. They are VERY firm and perky, even after two kids!" Tim pauses, probably gauging Anne's reaction. 

Anne says nothing for a moment, then quietly tells me, "peel off those jeans for us." I focus on getting the zipper down, then wriggle out of the denim, letting them fall to the floor. I step out of them and stand again, my hands modestly covering my sex. 

"Still no underwear?" She says a bit breathlessly.

"She's lucky I let her wear any clothes at all. I could look at that body all day long, couldn't you? Move those hands and let her see the whole package," Tim commands. "Turn around so she can see that sweet ass."

I cannot bring myself to look at her as I bring my hands to my side and begin to turn. It only takes a second to be facing directly away from her.

"She was a little nervous about letting me explore her back there," he says. "Now, I think she'll stick it out for anyone." I cringe at his assumption, but realize it is probably true. 

"As beautiful as I imagined," I hear Anne say quietly. She had been thinking about what I looked like before this?

"Karen, turn around again." I do as he says, this time sneaking a peek at Anne. She is studying me intently, her eyes taking me all in. I feel as though I'm merchandise on display...and reveling in it.

Tim breaks the spell. "Well, I hope that satisfies your curiosity," he tells the distracted woman in front of me. "Now, if you don't mind, this gorgeous creature is going to suck my cock until I cum all over her face and send her home. You may want to make your escape from the leather-clad dungeon master now, unless you want to watch..." 

Anne continues to look at me, and I can't tell if she didn't hear him, or is considering the offer. "No, I should be going," she says finally, "and let you two get down to business." She gets up from her chair, wiping her palms on the front of her jeans as she rises and moves to where Tim is getting up as well. He hands her a card as they shake hands like they had just concluded a business meeting. "If you have any further questions or concerns, please feel free to e-mail me," he tells her. "My address is on the card. Anything at all." She blushes and says nothing, but slips the card into her pocket. She comes to where I am standing and we hug, her embrace tentative, most likely because she is hugging her nude best friend, then excuses herself, the door closing quietly behind her. 

True to his word, Tim unloads on my upturned face almost an hour later, my jaw tired and sore from my work on his hard member. He does allow me to play with myself while I service him, however, and I surprise myself by coming twice, the first time almost immediately after my vibrator makes contact with my tingling clit.

He does not allow me to wipe his spend from my face as I dress, insisting I wear it home. I am pulling on my jeans when he addresses me.

"Karen, Anne may approach you for something more than what you gave her today..." my face is a mask of confusion, unsure what exactly he is suggesting. "It's just a feeling, but if she does, you may not give yourself to her. If she wants you, she has to ask me first. Do you understand?" The fog clears, and I think to protest, to tell him she would never see me THAT way, but instead I just nod, my heart sinking a bit as I know she would never approach him with such a question. 

"Good," he tells me. "I know it may be hard for you, but look at it as a test. Would you rather that, or undressing outside your car next time?" He laughs, and I smile, wondering if he will really make me do that. 

"I'll have to tell Rich about this," I tell him. I may be Tim's for right now, but I am Rich's always. Honesty was his only requirement when I told him I wished to continue what he had started for me. 

"Of course," Tim says. "I expect you to tell him everything whenever we spend time together. I had planned on telling him as well in my next e-mail."

We say our goodbyes and soon I'm home again, my jacket, jeans and heels the only clothing I'm allowed. I'm pulling into the garage before I remember to check my face for dried cum. 



For the Weekend Pt. 02 Ch. 04



(Author's Note: To all who have sent words of encouragement, suggestion, and praise, thank you! It is very flattering to know you enjoy what I have put out so far. Please feel free to continue sending me any comments you may have.)

Chapter 4

Anne calls the next morning. Our first few moments are uncomfortable, embarrassing for her as much as me I sense, but we soon work past that and are making inside jokes about what I had shown, and what she had seen. 

"Did your master do what he said he was going to?" she asks in a teasing manner.

"Oh yeah...my jaw was still sore the next day."

"So, does Rich know?" she asks hesitantly. 

"About why my jaw was sore? He knew about fifteen minutes after I walked in the house."

"Not about that, about...you know...me being there..."

"And seeing me in my natural splendor? Yup. The sex is always good when I come back from one of these trips; once he found out you were there he went wild. You know he thinks you're hot, right?"

"He thinks I'm like a pain in the ass sister," she tells me with a laugh, "but he seems to tolerate me OK. You guys have been a godsend since..." the line goes quiet, and I do my best to shock her out of her remembrances with my next question.

"Hey, did you take my advice about your pillow?"

She laughs again. "You know it. Now that I've seen what I've seen, my little friend is pretty mild." 

Sadness forgotten, we talk for a while more before promising to catch up again later in the week.

My cellphone rings Friday night, my "The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow" ringtone announcing my best friend. Rich picked that ringtone out for me—from the musical, "Annie." How clever. "Hey Anne, how are ya?"

"Good, good...hey listen, you busy for lunch tomorrow? There's something I wanna talk to you about."

I immediately grow concerned by the tone in her voice. "Is everything OK? I can come down right now if you want—"

"No, no, everything's fine," she tells me. "Tomorrow's fine, really. I just want to talk to you...about last weekend." 

My heart sinks, but I realize she's not ready to discuss anything with me yet. "Sure, OK, how about 9?" I ask in a tone more casual than I feel. I want to get there as early as possible. 

"That sounds great," she says, almost sounding relieved. "9. I'll have coffee on."

My mind spends the rest of the evening trying to guess at what has her upset. Did she reconsider our friendship based on what she saw? Did she find some information about Tim that may disturb me? Every made-for-TV-Lifetime-movie plot I have ever seen race through my head. I discuss my fears with Rich, but he just tells me I'm reading too much into the situation, as I'm prone to do. I have my doubts, but hope he's right. 

I kiss Rich goodbye and am on Anne's porch at ten minutes before nine the next morning. I knock, and the door swings open to reveal her standing there, a sheer scarlet bathrobe wrapped tightly around her, tense look on her face. "Anne, what's the matter—"I say as she closes the door behind me. I see a half-empty bottle of wine on her coffee table, and wonder if it's left over from the night before, or fresh from this morning... 

I turn to face her, to finish my sentence, only to find her reaching up to my head, to pull my face to hers. Before I can react, she kisses me, her lips firmly planted on mine, her hands roaming my lower back. I begin to respond, the feeling of another woman's touch bringing on stirrings I had first felt many months ago. It's only with great effort that I break the embrace. "Anne, I can't," I say to my confused best friend, "I'd love to, but—"

"I had hoped that with your newfound lifestyle, you'd find me attractive," she says softly as she backs away, unwilling to meet my eyes. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you."

"It's not that," I say quickly. "It's just that Tim told me I couldn't...I couldn't, you know, with you...unless you asked him first," the last words come out in a rush. 

"Would you if I asked?" she says, her eyes quickly meeting mine. 

"God yeah," I tell her truthfully. "I've wanted to for a while now, but I was afraid you might be freaked out. I guess Trying to boink my best friend is not much like asking her to go shopping." 

She smiles at me, that shy smile that I'm sure melted Dennis' heart. "I've wanted you for a long time, too, but I always thought you were really, really straight."

"Look," I tell her, "I can help you talk to Tim, I'm sure this is just something he just wants to have control of..."

She smiles again and turns to go to the kitchen, her robe swishing and flowing as she goes. Underneath, I can see her butt swaying back and forth, and I begin to realize what fascinates men about a woman's ass. 

I follow, trying to get her to talk again. "Please don't be mad, you saw how I am. It's really tough to suppress my submissive streak when I'm with him..."

She picks up a piece of paper and hands it to me, a sly smile on her face. A quick glance reveals it to be an e-mail. An e-mail from Tim. 

"Dear Karen,

If you are reading this, you passed my little test of your obedience. 

In return for future considerations, I've given Anne permission to use you today. You are to do whatever she says—she will be letting me know as to whether she was satisfied with your efforts. 

Have fun,

Tim

I look at Anne, trying to digest the fact that I have just been given to my best friend. She smiles again. "Tim wanted me to try to seduce you before I showed you that. I guess he wanted to see if you would do what he says even if you weren't with him. That's why I was so nervous—I wasn't sure if you'd tell me no, and if you did, why. So," she says, suddenly looking at her hands, "are you really OK with this? It's OK if you're not—just tell me. I don't want your thing with Tim to make you do anything you don't want to do."

I smile at her, my mind made up. "I'm very OK with it, ma'am."

"Please don't call me ma'am—you're my friend, not my slave. I'm not going to be giving orders," she says as she steps in front of me. "I'm not really good at being the boss. To tell you the truth, being told what to do is a lot more of a turn-on for me, too. I lost count of how many times I've used my toys since you told me about you and Tim—it's been so hot for me to think about!" Anne doesn't give me time to answer, instead resuming our kiss. Her hands are again on the small of my back, smoothing, caressing, and this time, I gladly accept her advances. 

Her lips remind me of a fuller version of Andrea's, softer than a man's, no stubble beneath her nose to tickle me. Her hands are roaming my back, now pulling my shirt tails out of my jeans, reaching under the fabric to make delicate patterns on the skin at the small of my back. Her fingers dart under the edge of my pants, never going far below my beltline, but always dipping and stroking before they move up my back to just beneath my bra strap. They bump the clasp there, accidentally it seems, and yet, they continue to run into it on their travels up and down my spine...

My hands are busy as well, sliding up and down the silky fabric covering her. The sheerness of the fabric helps me confirm my initial suspicion that she is nude underneath, and while I find myself wanting to remove the robe so that I might finally be able to openly admire her body, I do not yet have the nerve. Instead, my hands continue to travel lower, exploring the curve of her back and sides as they become her voluptuous ass. It takes me a few moments more before I can bring myself to firmly caress those wonderful globes. 

Anne's hands are not idle as we continue to kiss, our tongues making their first hesitant contacts. Her fingers have traveled into the back of my jeans as far as they can comfortably go before they retreat and slowly make their way up my back. Her left hand is the first to reach the clasp of my bra, joined soon after by her right. They begin to work, trying to separate the halves, her efforts reminding me of Rich's early efforts at this task. I can feel her breasts pressed into mine, the pillowy feel of them against my own exciting me, making me want to help her, to speed her efforts to remove the layers of clothes between us.

Anne's lips back away from mine just a fraction of an inch. "Sorry," she murmurs, "this is a whole new angle for me. Guess I shouldn't have laughed at the guys who had a hard time with mine..." It takes her just a few seconds more to figure out the puzzle. The strap encircling my chest suddenly loses its tension, and her lips are on mine again. Their task completed, her hands leave my back and are now tugging my shirt out of the front of my pants, reaching for the lowest button as the tails come above my waistband. 

Her boldness with my bra spurs me to move my own hands to the sash of her robe, our wrists crossing as we work to undress each other. I pull the ends apart and let them fall away as she frees my second button, the halves of her gown opening to allow me access to her naked body underneath. I don't break our kiss to look down, instead slipping my hands inside the open edges of the robe and begin to caress the sliky smooth skin of her back. 

Anne is now attacking the last button between my breasts when her lips again back away from me. "Bedroom?" she murmurs, her fingers still working, her eyes only slightly open as she waits my answer. 

"Bedroom." 

She puts two fingers into the waist of my jeans and gently pulls me towards the door. We stand together by the bed, both of us seeming to hesitate a bit, realizing what we are about to do. Anne moves first and quickly finishes the last button on my shirt. Only the bra hanging loosely from my shoulders prevents her from getting another good look at my breasts. She pushes my shirt off my shoulders, leaving me to work the sleeves over my hands. It drops to the floor, quickly followed by my bra as I shrug it off my shoulders and allow it drop in between us. 

In the meantime, Anne has finished with the button and zipper on my jeans and looks at me as if asking for permission to take the next step. I look back at her, my eyes straying down her body. The opened robe still covers the tips of her large breasts, a deep valley between them. The part of the fabric also reveals her sex, a thick thatch covering a good portion of her mons before disappearing between her thighs. I had never thought about whether she shaved; the times I had seen her in a bikini or panties seemed to indicate she did. 

She catches where I have focused and blushes a bit. "I'm sorry," she says, "but I'm pretty hairy there. I usually don't trim it until bathing suit weather. I thought about trimming for you, in case you...we..." 

"It's beautiful," I reassure her, meaning it. "It's so...natural." I lower my head to kiss her again, pushing the robe off her shoulders as our lips meet. It falls to the floor with a whisper, and my hands again are roaming her soft skin. She breaks our kiss after a moment and gently pushes me backward onto the bed. As we separate and I fall, I get a glimpse of her. Her breasts are enormous compared to mine, tipped with large pink nipples, only a bit of sag. I had seen them in passing before, her modesty far less than mine in dressing rooms, but I had never really looked at them, feeling as though it was an invasion of privacy to do so. Now, I find myself wanting to stare. 

I settle onto the bed as she kneels at my feet and removes my shoes and socks. They are off in just a moment, and then she is tugging my pants down, revealing my daring (for me) bikini underwear. Her head and chest pop up from her crouch and she gently grabs either side of my panties, pulling them down my thighs towards her, me raising my butt off the mattress to help their progress. I feel them slide past my ankles, and we are both naked. Ann doesn't hesitate; I feel her lips on my right calf while her hands gently strokes and massage my left foot. She moves up my legs, alternating left and right between licks and kisses and caresses. Soon she is hovering over my knees, working her way towards my upper body. My thighs receive the same treatment as my calves, and I open my legs to allow her access to my sex. She doesn't stop there though, barely grazing the sparse patch above my slit before moving onto my stomach. My hips begin to rotate insistently, hoping she will get the hint, but instead her hands and lips begin to tease my breasts, moving ever closer to my nipples. I content myself with running my own hands over her back, scratching and caressing, her breasts pressed against my thighs and hips. 

My excitement rises as she continues to gently caress and lick my breasts, her own experiences making her do what feels best. Her kisses begin to travel up my breastbone, up my neck, straddling my hips as she moves up my body. Her lips meet mine, and we are face to face again, our breasts mashed together, her sex poised above mine. I feel her hips sag a little as we kiss, and her thatch briefly tickles my skin before it is replaced by the weight of her body against me. Her hips begin to twitch as she grinds her pussy against mine, the friction driving my clit wild. Anne begins the climb towards her orgasm as our lips are locked, our tongues flicking and dancing, her nipples against mine, her clit finding the right pressure against my pubic bone. Her twitching becomes more pronounced, her mouth presses harder against mine, her breathing becomes ragged. She begins to moan and squeak through our locked lips, and suddenly she goes rigid, the spasmodic thrust of her hips her only movement as she goes through her "little death". I continue to stroke and kiss her as I know I like it for myself, and she slowly comes back from her other world. Her eyes slowly open and she breaks our kiss, a satisfied smile on her lips. 

"Wonderful," she mumbles as she slides off to my side, her leg still draped over my waist, her hand thrown carelessly into the shallow valley of my breasts. The hand is not still for long as it begins to smooth lines up and down my torso. "Everything OK?" she asks, her eyes locked on her hand, seeming to avoid eye contact, worried whether things have changed.

"Wonderful," I reply, stroking her hair. She looks up at me and smiles, her eyes half shut, basking in her afterglow, as I resist the urge to caress her breasts so soon after her pleasure . Anne moves to kiss me again, gently, her tongue searching for mine as her hand begins its own exploration of my body. It is soon at the junction of my thighs, and I open willingly for her. Her fingers waste no time in tracing lines along my lips, first running along the outside, then moving in, pushing moisture about my slit. Soon she is on my clit, touching and caressing like one who knows what a girl likes. I begin my own climb, and she breaks our kiss and pulls my head to the crook of her shoulder as she doubles her effort on my button, her palm now firmly planted on my mons, increasing my pleasure. I thrust urgently against her and begin to cum, crying out softly into her neck as she pushes me over the edge. 

I ride the waves, my thighs wrapped tightly around her hand, as I enjoy what she had just a few moments ago. Slowly, the waves subside and we lie for quite some time together, our bodies intertwined, my face in the crook of her shoulder as we hold each other and gently stroke. I lose track of time, and just revel in the feeling of physical and emotional closeness with my best friend. 

Anne finally breaks the embrace, gently, and gets off the bed. "Are you hungry?" she asks, not making any effort to shield her nudity from me. 

"I am," I admit, "what do you have in mind?"

"Well' let's see what we have in the fridge," she tells me, moving towards the bedroom door. She stops and looks back at me. "Coming?"

I roll off the bed and briefly think about gathering my clothes, but as she is comfortable the way she is, I decide to go au natural as well. Lucky she keeps this house so warm, I think to myself.

I realize for the first time that her house is well suited for privacy, curtains strategically placed towards the road, empty fields running to a forest in back. It's funny how I never really noticed before. My own house is set up the same way, I think. Would I dare to walk around nude there? Trips into the hot tub are one thing, strolling around the house another. Watching Anne move around so carefree, ass tightening as she stands on tiptoe to reach into a cabinet, breasts swaying as she bends to open the Lazy Susan, makes me want to do exactly that, though.

Soon we are working on chicken salad sandwiches and wine, our conversation remarkably mundane given what has just happened. We finish and pour another glass for each of us when Anne suggests "we go take a nap." I smile and follow her back to the bedroom, wineglass in hand. Our lovemaking this time around is much more relaxed and unhurried, me finally getting the chance to explore those magnificent breasts which have me fascinated. We eventually can stand it no more and bring each other to a second climax. We lay there in the afterglow, again wrapped around each other, faces just inches apart, casually touching and stroking. 

We lay there for some time, both lightly dozing, before Anne says softly, "I have a secret to tell you." I smile at her, waiting.

"Remember how I told you that I've had a few threesomes?"

"Yes."

"And how I used to get handcuffed and tied up?" 

I nod. "Uh-huh. In your words, tres kinky."

"Well, what I never told you was they both happened at the same time."

My eyes widen slightly in surprise, but I say nothing. After a moment, she continues.

"Dennis used to handcuff me to the bed. Then, his best friend would come over and they'd watch football and make bets. If his friend won, he got to come in and do whatever he wanted to me. And after his friend left, Dennis would leave me tied up and get his, too."

My eyes widen in horror. "My God Anne, I'm so sorry, I had no idea! That's horrible..."

"No, you don't understand," she says quickly. "I let them do it. I liked it. They liked it. It was so thrilling to be tied to the bed, to hear the game and their cheering in the living room, their descriptions of how they were going to use me when they won, trying to follow the progress to see who would be coming for me. The only reason we stopped is because his friend wanted to invite some of their other friends over, and Dennis got nervous about that. To tell the truth, the idea drove me wild. I still use that fantasy when I'm jilling off."

My look turns to one of confusion. "Jilling off?"

She laughs gently, not in a mocking way. "Mas-tur-bat-ing," she says slowly, pronouncing each syllable. "Guys jack off, girls jill off. Man, I knew you used to lead a sheltered life, but..."

I smile back and break eye contact out of embarrassment. We both laugh just a bit, and I look at her again. "But why didn't you tell me about Dennis and his friend?"

"The same reason you wouldn't have told me about Tim if he hadn't told you to—I didn't want you to think I was a pervert."

I smile my understanding. "I guess we're both perverted," I say with a gentle smile. 

"I think both of us have only scratched the surface...which is why I agreed to Tim's conditions."

Warning bells go off in my head. "What conditions did you agree to?"

She gets up and takes a sip of her wine, then sits facing me, cross-legged with her glass held in her lap. "I was so turned on after I left the hotel room that day. I couldn't stop thinking about what he was doing to you as I drove home. I got myself off twice when I got here, but still couldn't stop imagining you, on your knees, his cock in your mouth...so I e-mailed him that night, telling myself I was just looking for more information, making sure you got home OK. We kept e-mailing back and forth, and I eventually let it slip that I wanted to...be with you. He said he could arrange it, but there was a condition. If he gave you to me, I would have to let him have me for a weekend. I was so shocked and pissed off that he suggest such a thing, I didn't respond for an entire day. But, I kept thinking about it, and the more I thought, the hotter I got, so I picked up the correspondence again. I tried to get more out of him, but he just said I would be treated just as you are. The more we e-mailed, the stronger my fantasies became, so I finally said yes."




For the Weekend Pt. 02 Ch. 04



I lie there, shocked. 

Anne pauses for a moment, then continues on. "He says that the next time he asks Rich for a weekend with you, I'm supposed to come, too. Are you OK with this? A part of me wanted to ask your permission first, but I know part of the excitement for you is not having a choice..."

While this turn of events is most unexpected, most of me is very glad to have my best friend in on my adventure, but a small part is—jealous? Uncertain? Concerned for her? I write it off to my worrisome nature and get up to hug Anne. "Of course it's OK," I tell her truthfully. "But are you sure about this, Annie?" I ask her. "He'll tell you to do things..." 

She laughs. "Well, duh! Or was the bellboy your idea? I need some excitement in my life, Karen. I don't need a commitment," she says with a grin, "but the pervert in me needs to be somebody's bitch sometimes." 

We chatter on for another hour, each of us comparing our experiences—me describing Tim's sexual inclinations and prowess in detail, Anne telling me more of her submissions to Dennis and his friend. 

We finally part, Anne escorting me to the door dressed in nothing but her smile, the frigid air of the porch tightening her nipples into stiff buds. We hug, wrapped in the coming dusk, and I hurry home to tell Rich of the day's events.



For the Weekend Pt. 02 Ch. 05



Life returns to something like normal the next week. Anne calls the day after our time together to check on me, to see if I'm at all uncomfortable with what happened. I assure her I'm not, and regale her with the details of Rich's greeting for me when I returned home, how he had me twice before we fell asleep, how he demanded the details of my day, how he was particularly interested in my friend's looks and likes. I'm amazed how much I share, how much of my restraint has been stripped away. 

Anne groans. "Oh, God, I really hadn't thought that part through. You told Rich everything?" 

"Everything."

"Now he thinks I'm an annoyance AND he knows I slept with his wife. I can't talk to him ever again." 

"I think he'll be more embarrassed than you when he sees you again. He knows I tell you everything."

NOW you do, or at least I think so."

Our talk lasts for a few more moments, each of us feeling good about what has happened and the lack of apparent emotional aftereffects. We don't talk again for almost a week, until my husband receives an e-mail from Tim. 

Rich gives me to him for the following weekend, not even checking with me this time. My phone rings with the familiar tones from "Annie" less than ten minutes later.

"Ummm, are you doing anything next weekend?" Her voice is hesitant, like she is afraid to hear the answer. 

"Rich says I am, yes," I reply. "I'm guessing you are, too?"

"God I can't believe I'm doing it, but yeah, I am. Do you know anything? His e-mail just said details to follow."

"No, but Rich has got a pretty big grin. He knows, and he's not telling."

Anne and I talk a few moments more, making R-rated guesses as to what is in store. We promise to share any news we may get, and begin the process of fretting over the details to come.

The information we get over the next week is scant, both of us receiving our instructions on what to wear, Anne getting a packing list she is not allowed to share with me. Rich gets my list and sends me out of the house Friday afternoon while he selects the items from what Tim has sent him. I make my way down to Anne's to share a cup of coffee while I wait for the time I can return home. She is shaking slightly as we sit at her breakfast counter, each of us dressed in jeans and a sweater, our hands wrapped tightly around our mugs fortified with Bailey's Irish Cream. 

"Karen, this is so scary," she confesses. "It seemed like a good idea at the time, but now..." she stares off into space. "I mean, what if this is some sort of trick? What if...he does something... something bad?" 

I laugh gently, trying to project more confidence than I feel at these times. "Now you sound like me. He's always treated me fine. He makes me do things, but I'm sure I can back out any time." I'm not convincing myself of that last part. While I don't think he would actually use force on me, there's always the possibility in the back of my mind. 

She smiles and stands, then pulls her sweater over her head, revealing her bra-covered breasts. Dropping it on the back of a kitchen chair, she looks over at me. "I should probably shower and get dressed. You want to hang out while I do?" 

The possibility of seeing her nude and wet makes me want to take her up on her offer, but I decline. "No," I tell her, getting up from the barstool, "I should probably go home and do the same. I'll pick you up at four?"

She nods and heads for her bedroom. I linger a moment, watching her strip off her jeans, revealing underwear barely covering her round ass, and she looks over her shoulder at me and smiles. I return the smile and reluctantly let myself out. 

Rich is finished by the time I get back. Sitting in front of the TV watching basketball, he looks over and nods as I come through the front door. I make my way up to our room and begin the process of getting ready.

Tim has selected a business suit for this meeting, as he has done for Anne. Grey skirt, white blouse and a grey jacket, along with a string of pearls and low heels. All in all, the same outfit I might wear any day to the office. I note that the bra and panties are standard issue, as well—nothing terribly sexy about them. I'm ready to go by quarter to four.

My bag is waiting downstairs by the door. Shaking slightly, I begin the search for my garage door opener and keys, wanting to give my hands something to hold onto before kissing Rich goodbye. Instead, I see him standing by the kitchen table, jacket on and keys in hand.

"Ready?"

I pause, confused. "I'm, uhh, going to pick up Anne..."

"The kids are taking care of themselves for dinner when they get home. I'm driving." 

"Oh, you don't need to—"

"I want to. Let's go." He picks up my bag and waits for me at the door. I realize he won't give up on this one, and begin rehearsing my apology to Anne. 

We pull into her driveway a few moments later, and Anne comes out her porch door carrying her bag. She stops short when she looks into the SUV and sees Rich in the driver seat. She hesitates, then slowly makes her way to the door behind where I'm sitting. 

"Hi Karen, Rich," she says quietly, and even in the relative darkness of the car, I can see her blushing furiously. 

Rich smiles at her in the rearview. "Anne."

We drive, a silence blanketing us as we all contemplate the next forty eight hours. We are on the highway before Rich is the first to speak.

"Anne?"

"Yeah?"

"Tim wanted me to ask if you are wearing underwear." 

I don't look back, not wanting to embarrass her any further, but I hear the discomfort in her voice. "Yes, not that it's any business of yours," she growls. 

"He said you should take them off and give them to me as proof."

There is a pause, and then the sound of fabric rustling. A hand shoots past my head into the space between myself and my husband, a pair of black panties poking out from between her clenched fingers. Rich takes them from her without taking his eyes off the road and briefly holds them by the steering wheel to examine before slipping them in his jacket pocket. There is a smile on his face, and I have to resist the urge to elbow him and remove it. 

We eventually reach the hotel, both Anne and I fervently hoping Rich will just be dropping us off. It is not to be, however, and he walks with us through the lobby as we wheel our bags along. To the passers by, we appear to be nothing more than business women coming in from the airport. If only they knew what was in store for us. If only WE knew.

My husband grabs an elevator and presses the 7 button once we are all inside. A short walk down the hall to 704—at least any naked trips to the elevator will be short this time, I think to myself—and he turns and knocks. I expect him to make his way back to the elevator, as he did before, but instead he waits along with us. The door opens.

Tim stands there, dressed similarly to the first time I saw him—jeans, white button down shirt, barefoot this time. "Rich, good to see you," he calls out. Thanks for delivering them." My husband returns the greeting, along with a mumbled, "no problem at all."

"Did Anne give you what I asked for?"

"Yup." Rich reaches into his pocket and removes the black underwear. 

Tim takes them from my husband and examines them briefly. "She didn't give you an argument, did she?"

"No, no, she did it right away."

Tim hands them back to my husband. "Good. Well, why don't you keep these? She won't be needing them this weekend. A little memento for your trouble. Now, if you'll excuse us, I have quite a weekend planned." 

Rich takes the panties from the outstretched hand and kisses me on the cheek. "Be nice, have fun. See you both on Sunday." With that, he moves back to the elevator.

Tim looks us over and addresses us for the first time. "Come in, please." He stands off to the side of the door and holds it, looking at us expectantly. I move first, Anne taking a deep breath as I cross the threshold. She is right behind me, and the door closes behind us with a thud and a click, as good a signal as any that our service has begun. 

The room is laid out similarly to my first visit here. A large sitting area is off to our right, couch and chairs, armoir, television all in the same spots I remember from my first weekend. A door to our left leads into the bedroom. I continue to look about, a feeling of déjà vu washing over me. Anne stands next to me, roller bag still trailing behind her, unsure what to do next. Tim has already turned away from us, slipping on a pair of loafers near the coffee table and reaching for a grey twill jacket. He slips the coat over his shoulders, then turns back to us.

"Forgetting something?" He is looking at me, a mildly disappointed look on his face. 

"Oh, uh, sorry, uh sir," I stammer quickly, and remove my London Fog, hurriedly hanging it on a nearby coat hook. 

Tim smiles. "Stop. In this case, since we're going out for something to eat, I'll let you leave it on for now. Anne, I expect both you and Karen to be nude whenever you are in this room, unless I tell you otherwise. That means as soon as you enter the room. Do you understand?" She nods, looking at the floor. "Good. Now, I'm going to assume two of us are still wearing underwear. I'll be keeping mine for now, but it's only fair that you two match. Anne, why don't you remove Karen's for her?" 

We look at each other, two old friends in a strange new world, and Anne flashes an embarrassed smile. She steps behind me and drops to one knee, her hands reaching up under the hem of my skirt. I feel her hands travel up the outside of my thighs, not trying to avoid contact, rather smoothing the way up them, before she reaches the lower edge of my panties. Her hands hesitate for a moment, then continue up to the fabric to find the waistband. Fingers curled around the edge, she reverses motion and begins to pull them off of me, her nails scratching their way back down my ass, my thighs, my calves. They puddle around my ankles and I step out of them. Anne begins to rise, but Tim stops her. "Bring them to me, please." She dips slightly, gently picking them up as if they were made of tissue paper, then steps towards him, arm outstretched with his request. Tim takes them from her, smiles and lifts them to his nose, inhaling my scent. "Nice," he says. "Here, smell for yourself." Anne hesitates before taking them back and giving them a quick sniff. She hands the underwear back to him and waits for further instructions. Tim stuffs them in a pocket and pronounces us ready. 

The elevator to the parking garage is a quick and quiet ride. Tim standing to the side of Anne and myself, humming a tune as we descend. The doors open and he leads us to his truck, opening and holding the passenger door for us. I decide to get in first, taking the center of the large bench seat, and Anne slides in beside me. Tim closes our door, walks around the rear, and opens his own.

"I've got early reservations for us at a little restaurant downtown, I hope that's OK," he tells us as the roar of the engine starting echos through the garage. Anne and I both voice our approval, both of us knowing it's more of a statement than a question.

We are seated less than ten minutes later, the closeness and warmth of the restaurant a welcome contrast from the cold outside. There are only ten tables in the room, and only one couple besides us at the moment. The service is excellent, and cocktails soon appear before us.

As always, our conversation is one of complete normalcy to anyone who might overhear. Tim seems to be very interested in mine and Anne's friendship, keeping us talking about our good times and bad times through the meal. Again he is getting her to reveal things about herself without her even realizing she is doing so. I, in turn, realize with a start that I have done the same thing for him on past occasions. 

By the time our plates have been cleared, the room is half-full, mostly couples beginning their evening out. I note that we are the only party of three in the room. The conversation lulls, each of us thinking ahead to what is to come. It only lasts a moment before Tim speaks.

"So Anne, are you wet?"

Her eyes open wide and she looks around nervously, wondering if any of the other diners overheard. Seeing that nobody seems to have taken notice, she leans over to him and says in a quiet tone, "I don't know..."

"Do you feel like you could be?"

"I...think so..." I notice she cannot make eye contact with him, her complexion turning crimson.

"Why don't you check?"

Anne hesitates a moment, then begins to get up. Tim smiles. "Where are you going?"

"The ladies room." Her voice lowers again. "To check."

"You can do that here, I'll bet. Why don't you sit down and find out?" She does indeed sit down, but doesn't move, her cheeks still flushing brightly. 

His voice remains conversational. "I can have Karen check for you, if you'd rather..."

"NO—no, I can do it," she says quickly, and slouches a bit in her chair. The tablecloth hides her movements, but I see her hand slip under the covering, returning a moment later. "I am," she admits.

"Well, THAT's good," he says with mock seriousness. "Hate for you to not be enjoying yourself. Why don't we head back and see if we can keep that going?"

Anne self-consciously straightens and smoothes her skirt before standing. A few moments more and we are back in the truck, me once again next to Tim, Anne next to me. During a downshift, Tim's hand continues on to my thigh, then pushes its way up to the junction of my legs. I open myself to him without a second thought, knowing he wishes to play with my sex. He spends a moment running his finger up and down my slit before withdrawing and bringing his hand to his nose. 

"Wet and fragrant," he says. "Karen, can you check your friend and see if she's still enjoying herself?"

It's my turn to flash an embarrassed smile at my friend as my right hand finds the edge of her skirt. I can only look at her for a moment, her eyes a mixture of nervousness and anticipation, before I self-consciously divert them to her lap. The glow of the dashboard gives the skin of her upper thigh a bluish tinge as it is revealed by the push of my wrist towards the junction of her thighs. Her triangle lies just beyond the bunch of her skirt, the fabric having nowhere else to go. Anne's eyes and thighs are still closed to my advances. I can go no further.

"Ummm..." I say, unsure how to ask my best friend to open her legs to me.

"Oh. Sorry," she squeaks, and opens herself just enough for my index finger to find its way down to the base of her slit. It is now my turn to hesitate and consider what I'm about to do. "No different than that time at her house," I tell myself, not quite believing it. I push the thoughts out of the way and dip my hand into her valley, my finger drawing up from her opening to her clit. It glides easily, ample evidence she was not lying at the restaurant. 

"Well?" Tim asks patiently.

"I think she is," I reply, unsure if I'm free to remove my hand. Anne, for her part, as opened herself wider, giving me more access to her lips. 

Tim reaches over and gently takes my wrist and brings my still extended finger to his mouth. He suckles on it for a moment, enjoying the flavor, before moving my wrist back to my lap. "Nice."

His taste test is followed by a left turn into the parking garage. I wait for some sort of instruction in the elevator, but none comes, just Tim's pleased humming. He opens the door to our room, lets us in, and closes it, still without a word being said. I remember my instructions this time and remove my coat, hanging it on a hook near the door, Anne's hands stay on her lapels, seemingly frozen. She sees me reaching for my suit jacket and her mind seems to be made up. Her own trenchcoat comes off with purpose, hung next to mine. She too is reaching for her jacket when Tim finally speaks from his spot near the liquor supply. "Wait," he orders again, and we both freeze in place. He allows us to stand in suspense while he pours himself a whiskey on the rocks, then kicks off his shoes. Settling into a chair facing us, he puts his feet up on the Ottoman and smiles. "Karen, you can continue. Nice to see you remembered this time. Anne, you can wait for a moment." She and I steal a glance at each other, wondering what is about to transpire, and I resume removing my jacket, followed by my shoes, shirt, skirt, and bra. I am quickly naked save for my pearls. Anne's gaze is on me, only occasionally diverted to the man sitting before us.

"I think we enjoy the same taste in women," Tim tells my friend. "Karen, why don't you get yourself a drink and come sit on my lap." I pour a glass of wine and set it down on an end table before settling myself on a still-clothed Tim. His arm circles my waist and pulls me to him as he begins to raise his drink. The glass is pressed against my nipple, causing me to sharply inhale from the sudden cold on my sensitive bud. The glass moves on, and he takes a sip.

"Anne, I love to see women revealed to me, to see what so few others have had the privilege of viewing. The thrill of seeing the female form for the first time—it's incredible. Today, Karen's going to unwrap your treasures for me to get a look at. Karen, if you don't mind...Anne, could you stand in front of me please."

Tim's arm moves from my waist and I take this as my cue. Getting up as Anne approaches, I move behind her and help her off with her blazer. Tossing it onto the couch, I briefly wonder what to remove next, but he does not make it my choice. 

"Karen, I think the shirt should be next. Before you do, though, you have had the advantage of seeing what I haven't yet. Can you describe her skin to me?"

I think a moment. "It's darker than mine," I begin. Her Mediterranean heritage is clear. "And it's so soft, so smooth...I never realized how much softer a woman is compared to a man." 

"Any tattoos I should know about?"

"Just one," I tell him. "She has a Tao symbol on the small of her back." I think back to the day she had gotten it—I had gone with her for moral support, certain I could never have one done myself. A half-dollar size Yin and Yang. The tattoo was her declaration that life moves in a circle, that good times follow bad times...

"A tramp stamp, eh? They're always nice to look at when the owner is bent over in front of you...ok, let's see the artwork." 

I pull her shirttails out of the back of her skirt, then reach around her and repeat the process up front. My fingers move to her top button and begin to work, surprisingly steady considering I am undressing my best friend for a man she has met once before, the man I am fucking despite my commitment to another. My hands brush her bra-covered breasts as I work my way down the line of buttons, their mass apparent even from the casual touches. I reach the last button and finish, then move to her shoulders and gently pull the shirt down her back. She moves her arms to allow me to slide the garment off of them, and then returns her hands to her front, clasping them together as if it is a form of self-defense. She seems unaware that her gesture only pushes her mounds together more, presenting them for her audience. I only allow him a moment to take in her partially-covered breasts before reaching around her, my erect nipples pressing against the bare skin of her shoulder blades, to unsnap the stays on the skirt and unzip it. Anne keeps her hands together, but raises them a bit to allow me to work at releasing her remaining cover. Finished, it drops to her feet. 

"Very nice," he says. "Please turn her around." I place my hands on her bare shoulders and turn her gently until she is facing me. She smiles weakly and I return the gesture, fighting the urge to comfort the helpless figure in front of me. We look into each other's eyes for a moment before we both become self-conscious and look down, me at her covered breasts, she at my bare ones. 




For the Weekend Pt. 02 Ch. 05



"I'm normally not a big fan of tattoos," Tim announces. "I think they spoil the natural beauty of a woman's body. Why paint a smily face on a masterpiece? However, I must admit, yours is very nicely understated. I think it accents your incredible ass quite well. It might even become a favorite target of mine over time. Karen, what do you think about her tattoo?" 

"It's right for her," I say simply. "Very tasteful." I have never had the desire for a tattoo, more from fear of the pain than anything else, but I did find Anne's decision to get one both exciting and liberating. I realize now that I found the sight of her bent over the artist's chair, her partially-covered valley visible just below his canvas, sexually exciting. 

He grunts noncommittally. "And her ass? What do you think about that?"

"It's beautiful," I tell him. "I've been looking at it ever since I...when I...was with Andrea." Anne looks at me and smirks a bit. I can tell I've surprised her with this revelation.

"Well, I'm glad we were able to open up a whole new view of the sexual world for you. Turn her around, please."

I put my hands on her shoulders, but she is already turning in place, her hands still tightly grasped in front of her prominent bush. From over her shoulder I can see that Tim is still in the same relaxed pose he had for me my first time undressing before him—slumped back in his chair, hands behind his head, legs crossed at the ankles on the table in front of him. "Move your hands." Anne quickly complies, now clasping them behind her back, arching a bit to do so. Instead of her breasts being pushed together in presentation to Tim, they are now being thrust toward him. "A little more grass in the valley than I normally like, but that's easily remedied. So Karen, what do you think of her tits? I think I already know your answer, but let's hear it anyways."

"They're so much bigger than mine. I've always been envious of them," I find myself admitting. "I couldn't believe they could fit so well on such a tiny body."

Tim laughs. "Here's a secret for both of you. Men may say they like to look at big ones, but they will play quite happily with whatever they're given. For me, size doesn't matter—they're all beautiful to look at, and even more fun to make wobble. Yours are just fine Karen—don't you dare change a thing. So, do me a favor and take your friend's bra off for me."

Reaching down for the clasp, I note the strain which the straps are under. Getting enough slack to separate the two halves takes a little pulling, but soon they part and I let them go, the weight of Anne's tits pulling the straps away. I push the fabric off her shoulders, and the bra falls to the floor, her breasts tumbling out for Tim's inspection. I can't help but peek over her shoulder as they do so. 

"Karen, come stand beside me."

I come to the side of the chair without an end table to turn and look back at vulnerable-looking Anne. Her chest is flushed, a somewhat helpless look in her eyes, like a mouse before a cobra. His hand slides its way up my thigh to my sex, prodding my legs to part slightly before a finger is inserted into my opening while his thumb makes contact with my clit. Tim takes his legs off of the Ottoman and pushes it to the side with his feet. 

"Anne, stand in front of me."

She does not hesitate, moving to a spot just beyond his knees and coming to a stop, her hands again folded in front of her sex. Her stare is now on my crotch, watching Tim's hand undulate slightly as his fingers stroke me. 

"Turn around."

Again she complies, facing the doorway. I notice a slight tremble run through her. 

"Spread your legs and bend over as far as you can." 

She does, her palms touching the floor, tits hanging beneath her. Tim sits up, his finger still buried in me, his other hand reaching out for the body in front of him. His fingers land gently on her ass just below the Tao then slide downward, his middle finger pushing its way in between her cheeks and coming to rest on her asshole. She jumps a bit, but does not try to move away. He stops a moment, gauging her reaction, then continues on, his finger dragging against the flesh of her taint, then into her slit. He does not sink his finger into her as he has me, but instead continues along, just inside her folds, until he reaches her clit. He circles it a moment, then begins the trip back up. This time, his finger does penetrate her when it reaches her opening, sliding in slowly until his knuckles make contact with her thigh. He withdraws just enough to allow his finger to continue traveling back up, moving on until it is again poised at the entrance to her rosebud. With a slight push, he enters her again, just up to the end of his fingernail, and she sucks in her breath in anticipation of a deeper invasion. It doesn't come, and his hand leaves her altogether. 

"Stand up and turn around." She does, the flush of her chest even deeper. Her eyes start again at my sex, but continue on to Tim's face.

"Kneel."

My best friend slowly sinks to her knees, her eyes looking up at him as she does so. Tim removes his finger from me and stands as well. "Karen, would you kneel beside her, please?"

I move and take my position, our arms touching, both of us continuing to look up at him. He rises and begins unbuttoning his shirt. "Now, that's a beautiful sight," he says, looking down on us as he finishes the last of his buttons. "Two women, completely different bodies, both incredibly beautiful. And mine for the weekend. I'm a lucky guy."By now, his shirt is off, revealing his flat, silver-haired chest. "I'm really going to enjoy you two." His hands have undone the buckle of his belt, giving him access to the button of his jeans. "Karen, I hope you don't mind, but this first one is going to be for Anne to take. Please feel free to watch." The button is undone and zipper pulled. His jeans and underwear are around his ankles in one smooth motion, revealing his very ready erection. He steps out of the clothing, one foot stepping on the pants while the other is removed, his cock and balls bobbing from the movement. I steal a glance at Anne and see she is fixated on his hardness, her eyes wide, her mouth slightly open. Tim, now free of his clothes, takes a small step forward. His staff dangles just in front of her face. "Suck my cock," he says simply.

Anne bends forward slightly, tentatively taking the tip between her lips. She holds it there a moment, her tongue lightly flicking the velvety skin and Tim lets out a contented sigh. Her hand finds his balls and strokes them gently, weighing them, smoothing them with her fingers. I have never seen a live blowjob before, and I'm fascinated, the hollow in my friend's cheeks, the movement of her tongue, alternating licks of Tim's sensitive head and shaft with sliding it between her lips. I notice that her style seems more aggressive, more urgent than mine—she seems to be trying to get all of his manhood as quickly as possible, her motions energetic, where I have always treated it as an object to be treated with caution and respect. 

Tim's hands rest casually on Anne's head, not gripping tightly, but gently controlling her movements as he desires. Gradually, his cock begins to spend more time sliding between her lips and deep into her mouth, his hands preventing her from removing him to use her tongue to tease. The tempo increases, and he fucks her mouth without subtlety, holding her head still as he looks down on her and thrusts, Anne accepting her role as an available opening for his use. 

His movements slow, but his hands do not move from their position on the back of her head. "Do you swallow?" he asks her. She's unable to answer with anything more than a small shake of her head and an "um-um" that escapes from her mouth full of cock. 

"You will," he says in a tone that will allow no argument. "But not this time. You are going to be marked, just like I do for Karen from time to time. Mine for the weekend." His tempo picks up again, even more forceful than before, and it's obvious he's close. With a hiss, he removes his staff from her mouth and tilts her head back slightly in one motion. His right hand reaches for his length and begins to stroke earnestly, the fingers of his left hand now entangled in her hair, holding her still. Anne's eyes are locked on the bright-red head directly above her, her mouth slightly open as she breathes heavily. He grunts, and the first jet of his cum lands at the edge of her forehead and hair, the long strand falling into her locks, her head jerking back slightly from the shock despite Tim's hold on her. His hand is locked over his opening, pushing back on the shaft as if he is trying to wring it out. Anne closes her eyes as the first spurt leaps from the angry crimson tip, just in time as the second pulse paints a milky white line across her left eye and cheek. Cum continues to rain on her, cheeks, nose, lips, some falling into her open mouth before she quickly closes it...I never fail to be impressed by how much cum this man can produce, and seeing it on someone else only heightens my admiration. 

Tim shudders a final time, releases his grip on my friend's hair, and begins to turn away. Anne feels the hot goo on her eyelid and moves to wipe it away before opening them, but he stops her. "Don't move," he commands, and she stops her motion, hand halfway to her face. 

He smiles and moves to my bag. The camera is retrieved and turned, producing the familiar chirp. Anne recognizes the sound and again begins to move to clear her vision and protests, "no pictures, no, please--"

"Stop!" he says in a voice louder than I have ever heard him use. "Our agreement was anything I wanted," he says more calmly. "I want pictures." Anne's hand hesitates just before her face, then drops slowly to her side. 

"Don't worry," he assures her. "I promise you they will not get into the wrong hands. But, if you decide not to continue with this game after the weekend, I'd really like something to remember you by." The camera clicks and flashes several times, Anne still with her eyes closed, a slightly pained look on her face, before Tim decides he has enough for the moment. She reaches yet again to clean his spend from her eye, the pearly white cream starting to liquefy from her body heat, and Tim stops her again. 

"I think Karen should do that for you."

I begin to carefully reach for her eye to scoop and wipe away the thick liquid, but he speaks again.

"With your tongue."

A year ago, this request would have stopped me in my tracks. Today, I move without hesitation, shuffling on my knees to face her, Anne lowering her upturned face to where she believes mine to be. I bend in and gently run my tongue across her eyelid, tasting his salty offering. I continue to work, making sure I get it all, before moving up to her forehead to kiss and take the remnants from her. My lips and tongue work down and across her face, stopping to clean wherever I sense wetness. My eyes eventually reach the level of hers only to find them still closed, my ministrations obviously pleasing her. I smile, and begin work on her lips. She returns my kiss, and embrace, the feeling of our two bodies pressed together inflaming our passions. 

The camera flashes to our left, and we break our kiss, looking to Tim in surprise. The flash goes off again, catching us in mid-embrace, staring at the lens in confusion. He is standing there, camera being lowered, a grin on his face. "Now that looked delicious. You two have to be careful, or you're going to get me all worked up again. But you're going to have to hold that thought. We're going out for a bit."



For the Weekend Pt. 02 Ch. 06



We are allowed to dress in the clothes we arrived in, this time Tim giving both of us matching black lace panties in place of what we had left home with. Another trip down the elevator, into the parking garage and into his truck. Tim, ever his usual mysterious self, doesn't seem anxious to tell us where we're going. We drive in silence for several moments, getting on the highway, heading uptown.

"Doing alright, Anne?" Tim finally asks. 

"Uh-huh," she answers, her voice more subdued than I'm used to.

"You sure? If you're not, I'll call our arrangement complete, no questions asked." 

"No, no, I'm okay," she says quickly. "Just a little...on edge..."

"On edge nervous, or on edge 'I want to finish what we started in the room?'"

"Both, I guess." If she's anything like me, her nerves are contributing to her sexual desire.

"We'll see if we can make you feel better on both accounts. Just have patience. I think Karen would have fucked me in the middle of the hotel lobby before I finally let her cum for the first time. She came so hard, I thought she had blacked out. She recovered just fine, though." 

The truck slows as Tim takes the next exit. We are in a nice section of town, boutiques and small shops clustered together in little village centers lining the thoroughfare. We turn into the drive of one of these buildings and park in front of a neat storefront, curtains drawn in the windows, lights still glowing from behind the drapes. The wooden sign mounted above the overhang pronounces this to be the home of "Whispers". Anne and I look at each other as Tim exists his side, then opens the passenger door so we may join him. We follow him to the door, which, despite the appearance of this establishment appearing closed at this time of the evening, is unlocked. Anne and I step into a richly appointed clothing store, the sound of classical music playing in the background. A faint scent of lavender hangs in the heavy warmth of our surroundings. A quick glance of the racks and shelves reveals what appears to be lingerie, very nice lingerie. 

A woman I guess to be in her fifties, Anne's height, but much plumper and more matronly, comes bustling around a rack of lacy black corsets. Her black skirt, frilly white blouse and buttoned collar scream early librarian. She sweeps by Anne and myself and heads straight for the now closing door. "You must be Tim," she says as she secures the deadbolt. He nods and extends his hand in greeting. "Lacey Beauchemin, welcome to Whispers" she announces as she takes his hand and quickly shakes it. "I'm the owner." I stifle a giggle at the absurdity of the woman's name given her choice of wares. 

"Are these yours?" she says in a perky, shopclerk-kind of way, gesturing towards Anne and myself.

"For the weekend, at least."

She looks at us briefly as if we were prospective merchandise, then calls out. "Chris! Out here now!"

A young man emerges from a doorway near the back of the store, well-built, dark haired, over six feet tall. Behind him follows a thin woman my own height, chestnut hair cascading down to the small of her back. The man is dressed in black slacks and a white turtleneck, while the woman is dressed much as Lacey is, black skirt and white blouse, her small breasts barely pushing the shirt away from her chest at all. Black on white must be the store's uniform. 

"I think I have everything you asked to look at," Lacey tells Tim. "Care for a glass of wine while you view the selections?" She is directing her attention to him, pointedly ignoring Anne and myself. 

"Please," Tim replies. "A Chardonnay, if you have it."

"I most certainly do! Chris, get the gentleman a drink. If you will all follow me..." Lacey finally looks at Anne and I again as she moves to the back of the store. Tim motions for us to follow, and we take a path through racks of corsets, teddies, peignoirs and other unidentifiable items to a clearing towards the rear. It is an open area with a small dais in the middle, surrounded by wall-length mirrors on three sides. We all step into the open space, Chris coming soon after with a glass for Tim. The woman stands off to the side, a little ill-at-ease, it seems. 

"Tim, have a seat over there while we show you what you asked for," Lacey says, gesturing to a padded straightback chair off to the side. Chris, wine delivered, goes to the other side and stands, seeming to wait for further direction. The older woman turns to us. "Remove your clothes."

We both hesitate for just a moment, Anne speaking first. "Is there a dressing room we can use, Lacey?"

The woman, still looking for all the world like the middle age secretary of a bank executive, walks slowly to where Anne is standing and faces her. She gently but firmly takes my friend's chin in her right hand and squeezes ever so slightly as she leans in to just inches from her face. Anne's eyes widen in surprise, but she does not attempt to move away.

"If you were mine, you would only address me by my first name once," the older woman says in a very soft but menacing voice. "I would enjoy ensuring you would never use it again. But you are not mine, so I will restrain myself. However, this is my establishment, so you and your friend here will address me as ma'am, or Mrs. Beauchemin, if it is absolutely necessary you speak to me. Do you understand?"

Anne, her chin still firmly in Mrs. Beauchemin's grip, does her best to nod and say, "yes, ma'am." 

The older woman smiles and takes her hand away, then takes a step back. She folds her arms before her ample bosom and in a voice more appropriate for announcing our presence to the bank manager says, "now, get naked."

Anne and I both nervously look at Chris and the young woman before exchanging glances with each other. I look to Tim, hoping he will intervene, but a patient smile is all I get. I realize Tim will not be coming to our rescue and begin disrobing, Anne taking her cue from me. In moments our clothes are on the floor, and we completely naked in front of three strangers. Mrs. Beauchemin has us step away from our garments and begins to circle, examining us. 

"Quite an ass on this one," she says as the smack of a hand against skin comes from beside me. I feel the second smack on my own cheek as I hear it. "This one isn't bad either. Tighter, certainly, and more appealing to look at, but many men do prefer the cushion on Miss Mouth here when they are trying to get that last inch in..."

She is now in front of us, eying us up and down. "Two very different sets of tits, but both will have their appreciative audience." Her hand gently closes around my right breast and squeezes several times, not painfully, as if testing them—and myself—for resistance. She turns her attention to Anne's boob and squeezes, then moves to her nipple and pinches it slightly. Anne gasps, but doesn't move. The older woman smiles. "Either she's learning, and I doubt that, or she likes it," she says as she looks my friend in the eye. Anne diverts her gaze to the floor. The woman smiles again, then steps back. 

"A fan of the carpeted foyer, eh Tim?" she says as she looks between our legs with a critical eye. "Deep shag and a tight weave, I see.

"I prefer some, but not a lot," Tim admits. "Just haven't decided if I want to remodel the shag." 

"I have a wonderful way of taking it down to something manageable, if you would like me to," she tells him with a smile on her face. 

"Perhaps some other time. I'm still kinda amused by that natural look." 

"I understand. May I begin showing you the items you are interested in?" Tim nods his head, and the woman calls out to the man standing on the other side of the viewing area. "Chris—go get the collars I selected!" He hurries off through the door he and the woman had come in before. "Julia here is in training," she says to Tim as some sort of explanation for an unasked question. He just smiles and nods, then raises his glass to her. She smiles briefly at him, then resumes her stern expression. Chris hurries back, carrying several thick strands of leather. He holds them out to the older woman, who snatches one from his hands and moves to where Tim is sitting. "The finest grade leather," he tells him as she hands him the length, "very supple. The edges are rolled to prevent chafing from extended wear." Tim nods, then hands it back to her. She moves behind Anne. "On your knees, big tits." My friend does not hesitate, slowly dropping to her knees, her hands clasped before her. The woman works quickly and loops the collar around her neck, quickly buckling it and moving her hair away from the left side of her neck to show the piece to Tim. 

"Very pretty," he tells her. 

She smiles and snatches another length from Chris' hand. "Kneel, tight ass." I assume the position as Anne and feel the length roughly wrapped around my neck and fastened, the hair pushed away to display the piece. 

"Very nice, indeed. "Yes, I'll take them both." 

"Very good, sir! And I assume you will want the matching leads, as well?" 

"I suppose I should..."

She smiles again, and turns her attention to the young man standing in front of us, his eyes traveling over our bodies. "The restraints!" Chris quickly moves away and returns with leather cuffs, three pair. Mrs. Beauchemin grabs them from him and moves to where Tim is sitting. "Again, excellent leather work on these, rolled edges to prevent chafing or cutting. The stainless steel D-rings are the highest quality, guaranteed not to break under any strain the human body can put them under." He examines a pair and hands them back with a nod. "Shall I demonstrate them for you?"

Tim waves his glass casually. "Please." 

She turns on the young man standing beside us. "You heard him! All of your clothes off—now!" I am a little shocked to see him comply so quickly, shirt and shoes are gone in an instant, followed by pants and underwear. Our own situation is temporarily forgotten as we get a chance to ogle this handsome young man. He is very pleasing to look at—muscular legs topped by a washboard stomach and chest with what I guess to be a 7" cock bobbing over a large set of shaven balls. 

"Hard again?" the older woman sighs. "You ARE an un-neutered dog, aren't you? You can't have those two. They're not yours. You do remember what happened when you came without permission this afternoon, right? You don't want that to happen again?" Chris nods vigorously, but looks at the floor. Mrs. Beauchemin steps behind him and grabs his left wrist, bringing it behind his back to buckle a cuff on it. She repeats the process with his right, then snaps the two together and turns him so Tim may see the cuffs in action, his hands resting just above a beautiful ass. "You can use any variety of fastening devices with these," she tells Tim. Anything from keeping the wrists together to keeping them apart as far as his arms will stretch!"

Mrs. Beauchemin takes the other two sets of cuffs from where she had set them down and gives them to Julia. "Can you put these on the two 'ladies' here," she says in a sweet matronly voice as she gestures towards us, "just like I showed you earlier, honey?"

Julia's expression does not change. "Yes ma'am," she tells her, and grabs my left bicep, pulling it towards her none too gently. I get the hint and give her my wrist, which is quickly encased in leather. She repeats the process with my right and attaches the two together, leaving my hands firmly secured behind my back, my breasts pushed out in front of me. Anne gets the same treatment, Julia grabbing her like she is putting her under arrest, and we both continue to kneel, our calves beneath us and our asses cradled by our feet.

"Julia honey, would you be a dear and go get me those spreader bars I set out earlier?" The younger woman disappears, then returns a short time later holding 3 black poles, leather restraints dangling from their ends. The older woman takes one and hands it to Tim. "Fully adjustable. Perfect for opening the object of your desire as wide as you want, and keeping them there for your viewing—or any other—pleasure. 

He examines it briefly and hands it back. "If I may demonstrate," the woman tells him, and turns before he can answer. She again walks over the nude man in front of us. "Kneel, like I taught you earlier." He sinks to his knees to the side of the raised area in the center of the floor, then puts his chest and head on the carpeted surface in front of him. I can make out the tip of his cock dangling beneath him, peeking out from between his thighs. 

Mrs. Beauchemin moves behind him, kicking his ankles away from each other until she is satisfied. She rests on one knee, her skirt never riding more than halfway up her thigh, and quickly attaches one cuff around an ankle, then attaches the other. The older woman stands and surveys her work. 

"Put your legs together!" The young man tries to move his ankles back, but the spreader does its job. He makes a show of trying, then gives up. "Safe and secure!" she beams. Tim just smiles and nods. 

"Julia dear, could you put the others on these two?" The young woman steps in front of Anne and I and looks down on us with barely disguised disdain. It is a humbling feeling to be looked down upon by someone so much younger than myself...

"May I choose the position, ma'am?"

"Of course, dear."

"On your asses!" Anne and I struggle to our feet to rearrange ourselves, our hands cuffed uselessly behind us. We sink to the floor as ungracefully as we rose, both of us choosing to keep our thighs together, knees bent, as we sit.

Julia stands in front of Anne first this time and smiles at her attempt at modesty as she looks down on the nude woman. The younger woman kneels as Mrs. Beauchemin did, one knee delicately balanced on the floor at Anne's feet. She grabs her left ankle and pulls it roughly to the side, opening her up and almost causing her to become unbalanced and fall over in the process. Anne catches herself, and the young woman grabs the right ankle and repeats the process. 

"It's usually better to spread them both at the same time, dear. That way they don't fall over like topheavy bowling pins," Mrs. Beauchemin offers. "Especially that one. With all that weight up top, she might bounce for a bit."

Julia murmurs a "yes, ma'am" and gets to work, attaching one cuff then the other. In moments, Anne's heels and butt form a perfect tripod. The young woman takes a moment to examine my friend, eyes lingering in her open crotch, before rising and moving to me. Again she kneels, this time firmly grasping both of my ankles and pulling them apart simultaneously. The movement, although somewhat rough, does have the desired effect of leaving me balanced. She works quickly, placing my right ankle over Anne's left, and I am soon open to her gaze.

And to Chris'. I can see his head lays on the platform facing us, his eyes taking us in. 

"May I suggest leaving a demonstration of the ropes you requested until later? " the older woman coos. Tim nods his agreement. "Excellent. In that case, I believe you wished to outfit these ladies with prosthetics? " Prosthetics? What are prosthetics? Like a leg, or an arm? 

"It might help to keep them entertained," he offers. 

"Indeed they will," she agrees. "Julia, would you mind showing us what they look like?"

Julia blushes slightly and seems to lose juts a bit of her haughtiness. "Yes ma'am, right away." She slips by, a sideways glance cast at Anne and I as she goes into the side room. "Julia is in training," she tells Tim by way of explanation. He just smiles and nods. 

The young woman is gone about five minutes, Mrs. Beauchemin taking the time to study our restraints, making a show of checking our spreaders, gently kicking our feet aside as if we have figured out how to remove ourselves from the cuffs while she was not looking. At one point she firmly wedges the toe of her low heel into my cleft, snorting contemptuously when she withdraws it to see a slight sheen of moisture on the polished leather. 

She suddenly looks up expectantly from her inspections, and Julia sweeps by us, completely nude save for a leather harness about her midsection, a triangular patch of leather neatly covering her sex. She is as slight as I imagined her to be, very pale unblemished skin, her breasts barely more than bumps on her chest, her ass very firm, almost muscular. She is carrying a small leather-bound case in her hand that she gives to Mrs. Bauchemin as she approaches. "Wonderful, dear, thank you!" she tells the leather-girded woman, then turns to Tim. "These are not the least expensive pieces you will ever find, but certainly worth every penny!" With a flourish, she casually puts the case on the flat spot formed by Chris' back, making it seem as if he is just part of the décor. The older woman flips open the top and pulls out a very realistic flesh-colored dildo, complete with a set of testicles dangling loosely underneath it. She holds it out for Tim to view, but instead of taking it from her, he just leans in, examines it, then sits back and nods. "These can be made to any specification you wish," she tells him. "Long, skinny, thick, curved up, curved down—if I may be so forward, we can even take a mold of yours and make an exact duplicate!"

"Will it get hard at inconvenient times like mine does?" he jokes. 

"It never gets soft!" She turns to Julia and begins to tug at her crotch. The young woman holds her ground, seeming to understand exactly what to expect. The older woman's position blocks me from seeing exactly what she is doing, but after a moment, she finishes and steps away. The dildo juts out obscenely from the young woman, securely held in place by the harness. "This particular set comes with three attachments—" I hear this and my mind somehow conjures image of vacuum cleaner sales. "—this one, a long, thin one, for very tight orifices, a short fat one for filling up for favorite one, and a large fat one for REALLY filling up that adventurous partner. We can even scale your likeness for all three sizes. The harness makes changing out your choice a snap, does a wonderful job of keeping things in place, and is constructed to give the wearer maximum pleasure—the front piece is lined to prevent chafing, and has a strategically placed nub for making that little love button sing! Julia, could you demonstrate, please?" I have a feeling either Anne or I are about to get fucked in a most un-gentle manner by this icewoman. 

Instead, she moves the open case from the man's back and puts it on the riser he is resting on. The young woman takes a small bottle from the case, steps behind him and unceremoniously squirts some of the contents of the bottle between his upturned cheeks. She begins to push her finger into his anus, sawing in and out until she is satisfied. She withdraws her finger, positions herself behind him, grabs the faux-cock swinging in front of her and guides it into his asshole. His eyes close tight and his expression turns to one of discomfort as she grasps his hips and begins to push, teeth clenched as she bottoms out against his ass and withdraws. She wastes no time in starting her next downstroke, Chris' expression already lightening a bit, muscles no longer bulging along his jaw. Julia's hand leaves his hip and moves below him, grasping the cock swinging freely beneath him.

"He's not close to coming, is he dear?" Mrs. Beauchemin asks, sounding as if she is inquiring as to whether he would like a second helping of dessert. 

"No, I don't think so, ma'am," the younger woman replies, hand stroking slowly down his length.

"Good, good, you should know best," the older woman tells her. "Bring him to the edge, but do not let him go off. He won't be coming again tonight." The besieged man groans. I'm unsure if it's from the anal assault, or from the news he just received. 




For the Weekend Pt. 02 Ch. 06



"He was allowed to watch Julia pleasuring me earlier, and could not help himself," she says to us in a tone markedly more sinister than her conversations with the strap-on clad woman, "I guess he finds the sight of his wife orally pleasuring another woman just too much to bear. I would love to tell you what his punishment was, but who knows? I may need to invoke the same on you some day, and I would hate to give it away now." She smiles wickedly and turns back to the couple in front of us.

"That will do for now, dear," she tells the woman, who releases her hold on the man's hardness and withdraws from his ass. Mrs. Beauchemin steps to the younger woman and removes the dildo from the harness, then jabs it back into where it had just come from. Chris groans, but does not move. "Stay," she tells him as the wide base of the dildo juts obscenely from between his cheeks.

"So, do you think these might fit your needs?" She looks at Tim, her hands lightly clasped before her.

"Two sets, please," he tells her. 

"Shall we use you as a model? Won't take but a moment...I'm sure any one of these women here would be glad to help you get into the proper condition for making a mold...or even Chris here, if you desire."

At that the young man's eyes widen with alarm, obviously conveying his nervousness at that prospect.

"Perhaps some other time," Tim tells her. "If you have stock sets, I'll take them tonight." 

"Absolutely. Will there be anything else? Perhaps ball gags? I have a wonderful cat-o-nine tails in stock? Makes a wonderful noise when used against delicate skin...the strands are so soft, it takes quite a bit of force to actually leave stripes." 

"No, I think this will do it," he chuckles. "Of course, I believe they still have to try on the uniforms..."

"Of course! I had almost forgotten! Julia, would you be a dear and get those wardrobe bags hanging on the rack in my office please?" The young woman moves past us again, a look of superiority shot our way. She comes back a moment later, still unclothed and the harness removed, revealing a clean shaven slit. 

Mrs. Beauchemin takes them and begins to unzip the bags. "And can you release the skinnier one, please? She can be the first model." Julia moves behind me and removes my wrist cuffs, then comes around front and removes the spreader. 

The older woman does not look up from her task. "Up on the riser." I step up and face the woman, doing my best to ignore the head and torso at my feet, the upturned ass with a lifelike cock firmly implanted off to my side. "Here. Put this on." She hands me a pleated dark green skirt made of a fairly thick fabric, not see through at all. I step into it and slide it up my legs, knowing better than to ask if I need underwear. A matching green sleeveless jersey, piped in white trim, is thrown at me next, and it tells me all I need to know. A cheerleader? At my age? What is Tim up to? I look at him questioningly, but he just smiles and raises his eyebrows to spur me to try it on. The shirt does not fit me tightly, lightly resting on my breasts. I know if I lean forward it will fall away and reveal everything through the neck and arms. Once again, I'm fairly certain a sportsbra is not in the cards. Windpants and windbreaker are next, and once dressed, I look for all the world like a college cheerleader, if I was twenty years younger. I steal a glance at Anne—she is doing her best to suppress a smile. Mrs. Beauchemin looks at Tim. "Is this what you were hoping for?"

He smiles. "Absolutely." She turns back to me with a critical eye. "I guess it will do. These costumes aren't meant to be on for long, anyways. OK, get off and stand over there. Julia, could you let the other one up, please?" 

The process is repeated for Anne, much the same outfit but in dark blue, her jersey straining against her breasts. "You realize that if she does any actual cheering, those funbags are going to be flying about in there, right?" Mrs. Beauchemin asks, smiling a conspiratorial grin at Tim. "Of course you do. Alright, so I will have someone pick these up from the hotel staff on Monday morning—I believe you said ask for Leanne? Please remember, you will be responsible for any cleaning or repairs needed due to food, drink, bodily fluids, or general rough play." Tim nods his agreement. "OK ladies, out of those. It's up to Tim as to whether or not you can get dressed again."

"Actually," he interrupts," I'd like them to wear those out. Would you mind if we packed up the clothes they came in with?"

"By all means," Mrs. Beauchemin tells him. She stoops and picks up my underwear and thinks a moment. "Would you mind if I borrowed these for a moment?"

Tim gives his consent and she walks over to me. "Take off the pants." I quickly comply, afraid to make eye contact. She moves in closer to me and reaches under my skirt, my panties in hand. I feel the rough fabric pushed up and into my opening, her finger pushing it deeper into me, scratching the walls of my pussy. After a moment, she withdraws her finger and my underwear, and repeats the process with Anne. She walks over to the still prostrate Chris, the finger covered by my panties put in front of his nose. "Does this smell good?" He nods, eyes closed. She replaces my underwear with Anne's. "How about this?" He again nods. "Which one would you rather hump? Answer quickly..." He hesitates. "Time's running out," she reminds him. 

"The first one," he finally says. My heart skips a bear in panic and excitement—is she going to let him mount me? Is Tim?

"In front of your wife? You pig! Oh, she can't be pleased about that. Sounds like a long night for you." I glance at Julia, a smile spreading across her face. "Dear, could you pack these things up for us while we settle the bill?" The nude woman nods and begins to pick up our clothes, handling them as if they are diseased. 

We are led to the front of the boutique, where Mrs. Beauchemin trades the packages delivered by Julia, now clad in a sheer white robe, for Tim's credit card. Sales completed, they shake hands. "They'll do fine," she tells him, and soon we are back in the truck, the cold of the night air very noticeable against my bare legs.



For the Weekend Pt. 02 Ch. 07



(Author's note: for all those that sent kind words and wondered when or whether I would return, thank you for notes of encouragement. Being a mother, wife, and member of the workforce has kept me exceptionally busy these last few months. For those who had hoped I had written my last, my apologies for disappointing you.

As I have not written for a while, it probably makes sense to repeat the following disclaimer: 

Please note this is a continuation of my story "For The Weekend", and will probably make more sense if you read that first. I like to develop plot and characters, so if you are looking for a quick read, this may not be for you. While I do my best not to test the reader's willful suspension of disbelief too much, this ultimately is a story of fantasy—some of mine, some of my husband's, and some suggestions from the readers who have been encouraging me to continue this story. This is not real-life—no one catches diseases in this world, no one gets pregnant unless they want to, no one is physically or emotionally scarred. If you are not into stories about willingly submissive women, this story is probably not for you.)

*

"Well, THAT was interesting," Anne says as we pull out of the parking lot, trying for understatement of the year. 

"Mrs. Beauchemin is a dominatrix," Tim says quietly. "Karen, remember the club Ian and Andrea talked about your first weekend? She's well known there. She actually teaches bondage and domination to those who have an interest. I'm going to guess the couple in there are students." 

"Did you know how she was going to demonstrate her products?" I ask.

"No, Andrea just mentioned she had taken a class or two from her. She didn't say anything about her selling techniques, just that she had a thriving business. Did you enjoy the demonstration?"

"She scared me a little bit," Anne quickly admitted. "I've never seen a guy treated like that. Do you think he was liking it?"

"I'm willing to bet he was. All doms have a release word or phrase, he could have stopped whenever he wanted."

We are soon back at the hotel, the chill air of the parking garage assaulting our legs and bare asses, the skirts too short to provide much warmth as we stroll to the elevator at Tim's pace. I am grateful we don't have to go through the lobby dressed as we are, but my relief is short-lived as we stop at the first floor to let two middle-aged men on. They both break into grins as they spot Anne and I, Tim seeming not to notice. The door closes, and we all look forward, the men stealing peeks at us and nudging each other.

"So, who won the game?" one finally asks, unable to resist.

"I'm going to," Tim tells him calmly as we stop at the seventh floor. We step off and Tim makes sure to raise the backs of our skirts as I hear the doors begin to close behind us. I feel cool air, and know the two men got a show. 

Tim opens the door to our room and steps in behind us. Anne and I drop our bags and she looks at me, as if asking for guidance. I begin removing my jacket, then push my skirt down and lift my jersey over my head, revealing myself to him. Anne takes my lead and does the same, and in a moment he is presented with two naked women standing by the door. 

He smiles at us, but leaves us standing there as he pours himself a drink. He does not forget us completely, and soon we each are holding a glass of wine in our hands, still standing by our discarded clothes. Tim kicks off his shoes and looks at us with a bemused smile. 

"Anne, one of the things I have stressed to Karen is that she must do as I say, when I say it. I expect this from you this weekend, as well. 

I bring this up because Karen forgot one of my rules when you both first arrived. She—and you—must remove your clothes when you enter this room unless I tell you otherwise. Now, you didn't know this when you first came in, but you do now, and you did the right thing just a few moments ago.

Karen, however, knew the rule, but didn't comply when her husband brought her to me a few hours ago. I have to assume she didn't feel the need to while he was here, but she was wrong. So, she must be punished." This declaration produces both excitement and fear in me.

Tim leaves us standing where we are and moves to a bag on the floor near the coffee table. After a moment of rummaging, he stands up holding what appears to be black stick with strands hanging from it. I grow more nervous—what is he planning to do with that?

He comes back to where we are standing and takes my wineglass from my hand. "Karen, go bend over the arm of the couch, please." I do as I'm told, trusting that Tim is just looking to make a point with my friend, and not really hurt me.

He moves to where I am bent over and after putting my glass down, kicks my ankles apart to open me more to his gaze. 

"Anne, come here." I do not dare look, but the sound of her glass clinking on the table tells me he has taken hers as well.

"The reason I didn't take up Mrs. Beauchemin's offer to view her cat-o-nine tails is because I already have one," he tells us. So that's what a cat-o-nine tails is, I think to myself. Another useful piece of information learned... I feel the leather strands lightly flick across my upturned ass. My mind races back to the dominatrix's description of the lines hers could leave on unprotected flesh. I shiver a bit, Tim knows I don't like pain...

He uses the same light flick on my cheeks a couple more times, more of a tickle than a sting with the force he is swinging it. There is a pause, and then those same strands are flicking between my spread legs, landing lightly against my pussy lips. The possibility he might swing harder makes me flinch a bit. 

Tim chuckles a bit, then stops. "I think she's getting the idea of what this can feel like in the right hands," she tells my friend, "but I want to make sure. Here, I want you to leave a stripe or two on that ass of hers."

"I can't hurt her—she's my friend!" Anne protests, her voice full of shock and conflict. 

"There's no better way for you both to learn," he says calmly. There is another pause, followed by an anguished groan, and her first blow lands on my right cheek. I jump, but realize the blow was not much more than what Tim had done a few moments earlier. He laughs. "Your arm will get tired before you leave any marks that way," he admonishes. "Harder."

Her next blow is harder, but not by much. "I'm sorry," she tells him, "I can't do it. Can I have her punishment instead?"

"As well, you mean," he says in that same steady voice. "If you can't do it, I'll have to punish you as well. Would you like that, to be bent over next to her while I use that on both of you?" 

"If you have to," she says, her voice subdued, but to my experienced ear, in a play-acting tone. "But I'm sorry, she's my best friend..." 

There is a pause, and I suspect Anne is about to be told to join me on the arm of the couch. "I will have to punish you," he says finally, "but I have a feeling you might enjoy it more than you should. So, both of your punishments will be determined later."

"Let's see if our shopping trip had an effect on either one of you. Why don't you both go in the other room and lie on the bed?" His tone has changed to something lighter, as if he's suggesting we see what's on TV. I find myself both relieved and disappointed by this delay of sentence.

Anne moves first, moving to the other room and going to the side of the bed before climbing on and lying back, her head on the pillow, hands folded on her stomach, legs crossed at her ankles. I straighten and join her, lying to her right, assuming the same position she has taken. Even after the past few weeks of activity, I still feel a little strange laying next to my best friend, both of us completely exposed to this man, available for his pleasure.

Tim follows us in and looks us over as he takes another swig from his glass. He smiles, and after putting down his drink, begins to remove his clothing. His shirt is first, revealing that chest full of silvery hair I have grown to enjoy running my fingers through, then his socks, then finally his pants and underwear. He stands there in all his glory, his erection proudly pointing upwards. His eyes never leave us as he begins to casually fist his cock, kneeling on the edge of the bed before shuffling towards us. His free hand reaches for my right ankle first, pulling it away from its counterpart, towards Anne's legs. I take the hint and move my other leg to expose myself fully to him. He repeats the process with Anne's left leg, moving it so it crosses mine below the shin. She is a little slower to grasp what he wants, and he takes his hand off of his hardness long enough to reach for her other ankle. She suddenly understands and spreads for him, her leg moving to the edge of the bed. 

"Beautiful," he murmurs, and bends to kiss my sex, his tongue making contact with my clit. I arch my back to lift it closer to his lips, to let him circle it briefly before he runs down my slit as far as he can given the angle he is at. He straightens again and smiles at me, then bends to repeat the process with Anne. She gasps, and her hand finds mine, clutching it as she is tasted by this stranger. Satisfied, he sits back on his haunches, his cock almost flat against his stomach. 

"I love the taste of a woman," he tells us. "Each and every pussy is different, but each one has its own special quality. What do you think, Karen? Don't you think your friend here tastes different than Andrea?"

"I don't know," I stammer. "I've never...done that...to her..."

Tim seems genuinely surprised. "You two spent that whole day together and you never once went down on her? Anne, you gave your friend a lick or two, didn't you?"

Anne shakes her head. "We were busy in other ways..."

He laughs. "Well, I'll have to see to it that you both get a taste of the other this weekend. But for now," he says as he moves to lay beside me, between my body and the edge of the bed, "I think its Karen's turn to make me cum." His strong hands roll me on to my side, facing Anne. She rolls a little on to her side, her head turned on the stack of pillows towards us, unashamedly hoping to view the coupling about to take place beside her. Tim's cock is jabbing between my asscheeks, poking against my still closed thighs. I take the hint and lift my leg to allow him access. His hand comes across my arm to grasp my breast, and his cock now slides between my lips. He seems in no hurry to insert himself into me, though. 

Anne's free hand has strayed close to her sex, seemingly unaware that she is lightly stroking her waist as her eyes travel from my neck where Tim is nuzzling me, then on to his hand as it teases my erect nipple, and on to where his cock emerges and disappears from between my legs as he thrusts. 

From behind me, Tim notices the downward progression of her gaze, as well. "Put me in her," he growls from behind my ear. Anne's eyes fly to mine for a moment, then returns to where his cock is sawing between my lips. Her hand leaves the circling of her hipbone and slowly moves between my legs, the palm pressing against my own nub. My hips jerk instinctively at the pressure, trying to get all of my nerve endings involved. I feel her hand flex as Tim withdraws slightly, and then his bulbous head is at my opening, Anne's fingertips brushing my lips as she pushes him into position. With a thrust, he buries himself in me. I moan softly, breathing "so nice," to the man behind me, to the woman in front. 

Anne doesn't remove her hand from us, continuing to press against my clit with the heel of her palm while her fingers occasionally brush against my spread lips as she strokes and tickles the cock and balls pleasuring me. From behind my ear, Tim sighs contentedly and continues to work my breast and nipple, stroking, then kneading, then pulling, then stroking again. I am dimly aware of Anne's other hand finding its way to her tits as she lies facing me, eyes focused on my hips as I twitch to meet Tim's thrusts.

Through my half closed eyes I see hers come back up my body, searching for mine. We look at each other and smile, and she brings her lips to me, our kiss gentle at first, building as our tongues find each other and begin to dance. The feel of a male hand on my waist pulling me onto him, taking me, using me, while a woman's lips and hand offer another sensation altogether is absolutely delicious. I lose track of time as we all move together. 

I am beginning my final climb to climax when Tim's thrusting becomes more urgent, so much so that Anne's hand begins to lose contact with my mound. "Do you know what I'm going to do?" he asks in a low voice. 

I break my kiss with Anne and nod my head. "Mmm-hmm," I moan.

"Tell your friend what I'm going to do."

My orgasm is building. "He's going to cum..."

"Where? Where am I going to cum?" He teases me by abruptly stopping his motion and withdrawing his cock until the head is nestled just inside my lips.

"My cunt, my cunt, he's going to cum in my cunt," I squeal as I thrust my hips back at him, desperate to slide him back into me. I know he likes me to call it that, to use that raw, sexual word, to hear it come from my prim and proper lips. 

"Good girl. Beg for it."

"Please, please cum in me! Cum in my cunt, fill me up, please, I need it!" Through half open eyes, I can see Anne looking back, her expression one of lust and anticipation. 

And then he is back in me, resuming his assault on my pussy, his thrusts quick and violent. I sense, rather than see, that Anne's hand has moved to her own sex while the other works her nipples. Her eyes are wide and focused on me, and her mouth is formed into an 'O' as she watches me expression change as my excitement builds and my body used. 

With a final thrust, Tim tenses and pulls my hip so hard I'm sure I'll have a bruise in the morning. He looses himself in me and I can imagine each spurt splashing into my womb, filling me as I begged him to. The eroticism of the act puts me over the edge, and my hand flies to my clit to finish the job. Anne has already begun her orgasm, and is starting to come back to earth as I leave my senses. I am dimly aware of two hands gently stroking me as I return, one callused and strong, the other soft and gentle. 

We all lie in these positions motionless for some time, Tim not even bothering to remove his cock from me, instead allowing it to just soften and retreat from my cunt on its own. Anne and I eventually open our eyes and smile at each other, both a little embarrassed over what has just happened. She moves closer to me and snuggles while Tim continues to hold me from behind. 

We are beginning to doze when Tim rolls off the bed and moves to where the liquor bottles sit. He grabs a glass and opens the ice bucket, then frowns. "Hmmm, getting low here." He takes the bucket into the bathroom and we hear the sound of water and ice being dumped into the sink. He returns shortly, completely at ease with his nudity, standing at the end of the bed. "Need some more ice. There's a machine just down the hall. Anne, can you go get some more for us?"

She rolls off the bed and takes the bucket from him. "Yes sir," she says, a hint of a smile on her lips. "Do you have a robe I can use? I didn't bring one this weekend..." 

"Oh, I don't think you'll need one. The machine is just down the hall." I can see she is hesitating, unsure what to do, and the sexual blush on her chest is replaced by the redness of her cheeks. She finally steels up her courage and moves out of the room, heading for the doorway. 

"Alright."

She disappears around the corner and Tim turns to me. "Why don't you wait at the door for her? We wouldn't want it to shut behind her, now would we?" 

I get up and follow her to where she stands looking through the peephole, trying to determine if there is anyone out there. With a deep breath, she swings the door open and peeks into the hallway, head swiveling back and forth, looking for bystanders. The coast is clear, and she bolts through the opening to the right at a run. I can't resist taking a look, and pop my head through the opening, doing my best to use the door as a shield for my modesty. 

Anne is halfway down the hallway, looking at each doorway as she passes, looking for the open area that contains the ice machine, her ass bouncing a bit as she runs. She reaches the end of the hallway and turns back, resuming her panicked tiptoed-jog as she heads back to the doorway I am peeking out from. Her breasts make irregular orbits and bounce off each other as she hurriedly retraces her steps, again checking each doorway for the missing appliance.

My position behind the door leaves my ass exposed to Tim, and he does not miss the opportunity. I feel his finger reach between my legs to pull some of his recent deposit from my pussy towards my anus. I stiffen, but do not move. "Tell her it's the other end of the hall," he says from behind me, beginning to work his cum around my tight ring.

"Down this way," I quietly hiss, not wanting to draw the attention of the guests in their rooms. She looks at me, eyes wide with panic and excitement, and moves even faster, her tits flailing wildly as she carries the bucket in front of her. Anne passes our door, eyes flitting towards us as she passes in the hopes she will be called back in. Tim says nothing at her approach and passing as he slides his thumb into my ass. I only flinch a little at the invasion. 

"Spread your legs," he commands, and I do my best to comply while maintaining the view of my friend's progress. Anne has reached the open area to the right of the bank of elevators and disappears from view. I hear the machine begin to fill the bucket as Tim's finger finds my other opening, both digits easily sliding in and out of me. Another sound now comes down the empty hallway—the sound of an elevator tone announcing its arrival on this floor. 

The sound of the ice hitting the bucket stops as well, and Anne's head appears from her doorway. She stares at the elevator door, the red call light brightly lit above it, then to where my head still sticks out from safety. I can tell she is debating whether she can make it back to the room before the elevator's arrival cuts off her retreat. 

Her question is answered in the next second as the door begins to slide opens. Anne's head quickly ducks back out of my sight, but I linger for a moment, a part of me wanting to see how this will play out. A middle-aged couple steps out of the car, both dressed in evening attire, obviously coming back from a night on the town. They step out of the car and are even with the open area where my naked friend is trapped when they both look up from their steps and focus on me peering around the door. The need to remove myself from their gaze outweighs my desire to observe Anne's fate, and I move back inside, not quite closing the door as I straighten up a bit to let it swing by me. Tim's fingers are still at work inside of me. I hear the sound of the couple walking by our room, followed a moment later by an electronic lock being swiped and a door being opened, then closed. I move quickly to resume my watch for Anne, swinging our own door open just as she appears in front of it, clutching the ice bucket and breathing heavily. 

I straighten again, keeping my legs spread for Tim's hand, and swing the door open. My position does not allow her to enter enough to close the door behind her, and Tim's hold on me does not allow me any freedom to back up. We all stand there for what seems an eternity, Anne unsure how to ask him to move enough to let the two nude women in front of him get out of the open doorway. She finally holds out the ice to him. "Your ice...sir?" 

His fingers leave me and takes the ice, then moves away. I take a step backwards and allow Anne the space she needs to close the door, which she does very quickly. Tim, meanwhile, comes back carrying our glasses of wine, which he hands to us. Anne gulps hers, trying to calm her nerves. 




For the Weekend Pt. 02 Ch. 07



"So, any trouble finding the machine?" Tim asks her, a bemused look on his face. 

"No sir," Anne says hurriedly. "although I was very lucky they didn't see me."

"Who?" Tim asks, playing dumb as to her predicament.

"There was a couple that got off the elevator when I was in getting the ice, but they seemed to have their attention on something down the hall as they went by." 

"Well, that's too bad," he tells her. "Maybe I should send you down to their room to tell them what they missed? I bet that would give them something to talk about..."

Anne doesn't say anything, but I can tell that would not be her preferred plan. 

"Or maybe I can just have you on your back in front of the elevator doors, giving the next guest to get off a nice vertical smile." He seems to be testing her, to see at what she will balk. Anne says nothing, just looking at her now empty glass. 

Getting no response, he ends the game. "Maybe tomorrow. I don't know about you two, but I'm bushed. Let's call it a night." This surprises me, given that he is again at half-mast and I'm sure could be coaxed into a full blown erection. Nevertheless, in moments we are all under the covers in the king-sized bed, spooning one another. I have never slept--really slept--with more than one person before, but the feeling of Anne's breasts pushed into my back and Tim's arm draped over both of us is comforting, and it is with that feeling that I fall asleep.



For the Weekend Pt. 02 Ch. 08



I awake the next morning to find I have rolled over during the night, my head on Anne's shoulder, my hand on top of the sheet just below her breasts. She is on her back, left hand on my forearm and the other unaccounted for, although the slight movement of her hips gives me a good idea as to where it is. I can't feel Tim's body behind me, and I have to guess he is up and about. I consider staying quiet to see how far Anne's explorations will take her, but can't justify intruding on her privacy even though I would really love to watch her pleasure herself.

"Good morning," I say quietly, leaving my head on her shoulder. "Sleep well?"

The twitching below where my arm lies stops. "Not much at all," Anne says in a whisper. "I mean, I'm lying here in a bed—naked—with my best friend and a guy I barely know. I can't believe how well YOU slept."

"You get used to it," I say truthfully. "Are you still...y'know...OK with things?" 

"Yeah, I think so. Going out for ice scared the hell out of me, but the more I thought about it while I was trying to get to sleep, the more turned on I got. I kept thinking about what would have happened if that couple had seen me." 

"I would have loved to have seen their reaction," I admit. 

"You wouldn't have seen anything," Anne admonishes, "closing the door on me like that. But yeah, a part of me would have liked to have seen who would have been more embarrassed—me or them. My bet would be me." 

I move away from her just a little, still lying on my side next to her. She turns her head to face me, but stays on her back. From the other room, I can barely make out the sound of tapping. "Tim's texting," Anne explains. He got up about a half hour ago--popped his head in once or twice to see what we were up to. I pretended to be asleep."

"I didn't have to pretend," I tell her with a smile. "Hey, do you need some alone time? I can....uhhh...go use the bathroom or something." I rub her stomach through the sheet in a comforting manner. 

"No, no that's OK," she says, blushing slightly, not letting on if she knows what I am referring to. She hesitates a moment before closing her eyes and tilting her head to mine, our lips meeting in a gentle kiss. She seems unsure, as if she is looking to see how I will react. I respond with gentleness by bringing myself closer to reassure her. Anne's nails begin to lightly stroke my forearm with a pleasant tickle. It is not long before the motion in her hips returns, and despite the sensation from her stroking, I move my arm up towards her chest with the intent of slipping it back down underneath the sheet which ends just below her chest and my neck. My position on my side presents an opening for my hand to slide through, Anne shivering a bit as I somewhat unintentionally brush her breast to find my way under the covering. My hand does not stop there though, continuing down the soft skin of her stomach towards the vee of her thighs. My fingers make contact with her wrist just above where the palm of her hand rests on her mons. She jerks it away, whether because she is embarrassed to be discovered or clearing the way for me to continue my journey southwards I can't tell. I press on and slide my middle finger over the thatch and into her valley, finding it already wet. At this, her tongue begins a tentative exploration of my lips. A small gasp escapes her as my finger brushes her clit, but her lips again quickly find their lock with mine. 

A muffled knock comes from the door in the next room. Anne and I startle, our lips parting as we each consider what our next move should be. I stop my stroking but do not remove my hand from her sex as I listen for the sounds of the door opening. 

"The breakfast you ordered, sir?" It's a woman's voice, undoubtedly a bellhop from downstairs. Anne and I stay frozen, each of us taking shallow breaths in the absurd hope that we do not attract attention to ourselves. It's breakfast, I say to myself. There's no reason for her to come in here with that...

"Great! You can leave it here. You must be Leanne?" Tim's voice comes through the open bedroom door. 

"Yes sir. I was told to pay particular attention to your needs this weekend, and make sure you were well taken care of." Anne and I continue to stare at each other, unsure what to do. A moment later, the bellhop walks into our room carrying a stack of bath towels. She is a younger woman with close-cropped blonde hair, not much taller than Anne, but much stockier and dressed in the hotel's standard uniform. Anne and I scramble to untangle ourselves from each other and ensure we are covered as she passes the bed on the way to the bathroom with her load. She makes no attempt to avert her eyes, her head swiveling as she goes by, a grin on her face. The towels deposited, she again takes in the view of these two older women cowering under the sheets of the bed before leaving the room. 

"I can see why you need the extra towels, sir," we hear as she disappears from view. 

Tim chuckles. "Yup, those two get really wet. Oh, and can you do me a favor and hang those clothes over there in the bedroom closet?" 

"I'd be glad to, sir." Anne and I cringe and try to burrow even further under the sheet. I briefly consider hiding under it altogether, but Leanne is back in the room before I can act. She's carrying our cheerleader outfits, slowly laying each pile at the bottom of the bed, still grinning as she takes in Anne and I staring back at her. She takes her time hanging each piece, checking us out as she retrieves the next item, until everything is hung and she again leaves the room. 

"If there is nothing else, sir, I'll go make sure the afternoon's arrangements are taken care of."

"Thank you Leanne, I appreciate it. I expect we will be seeing each other all weekend; would you mind if I just gave you one big tip at the end of our stay?"

"Not at all. I understand your gratuities are very generous, but it's not necessary."

"Of course it is. Excellent work deserves reward."

"Well, thank you sir, enjoy your breakfast and don't hesitate to call or text me should you need anything else." The door opens and then gently closes again. 

Tim, dressed in the white bathrobe supplied by the hotel, appears in the doorway and smiles at the sight of the tops of our heads popping out from above of the cotton sheet, four sets of knuckles firmly wrapped around the edge, holding it in place. He takes a couple of quick photos—review of them later would show two very surprised faces peering out from just above the cover—and then announces, "Ladies, breakfast is here. I'm sure you would like to "sleep" a bit more—" the raised eyebrows that accompany this statement leaves me no doubt he knows what we were doing—"but we have a busy day ahead of us and things to do. So, get up and have some coffee, and let's all get cleaned up."

Anne and I push the sheet back and cautiously come out into the living room, somehow fearing that another unexpected guest might be awaiting us. We find no visitors, just the cart that Leanne had brought, laden with a plate of cut fruit, another plate of pastry, and 2 carafes of coffee, sits by the sofa. We both pour ourselves a steaming cup of morning energy while Tim stands behind us idly caressing our bare asscheeks as we take our first sips. He allows us a few moments and a few bites while he cops a few feels. At one point Anne freezes in mid-chew as his hand snakes its way between her legs and caresses her slit. 

"OK," he finally announces, "time for a shower." We follow him to the bathroom so recently stocked with extra towels and put down our cups only after he has started the flow of water in the oversized stall and pronounced it warm enough. We step in after him, the spray from 5 different heads ensuring none of us are left without hot water. 

Tim, of course, makes sure he has the most central spot in the shower. "OK ladies, get to work." Anne is unsure what this means, but I have no doubts. I grab the bar of soap and begin to lather the man's shoulders and neck. Anne gets the hint, and grabs another bar to begin the process at the other end of his body, kneeling to work his feet and ankles. Tim, for his part, just stands there being the center of our attention. We both continue to work towards the middle, the size of the shower allowing us to circle around him and ensure every inch of his skin is properly washed without getting in the way of the other. Soon, I am working the small of his back and hips while Anne has reached his upper thighs. 

"Anne, you'll want to make sure my cock is clean. Karen, can you take care of the other side? "

We both move to our positions and resume our lathering, our hands occasionally brushing against each other as our hands work his crotch from both sides. I eventually move to his crack while Anne gently fondles his cock and balls to spread the soap in her hands. The attention she is paying to him, along with my efforts to make sure his asshole is clean both inside and out causes his manhood to rise to half mast. 

"OK, check to make sure you were thorough." 

Again, from past experience I know what this means. I kneel behind him, and spreading his cheeks, begin to run my tongue down his crack, pausing to tickle his anus, the water cascading down over his back and my head as I do so. From her position, Anne cannot see everything, but the position of my head leaves her no doubt as to what I'm doing. 

"Anne, how's your work?"

I can only sense she has taken his manhood in her mouth as Tim lets us work just a moment more before pronouncing himself clean. Moving off to the side, he casually tells us "you two may take care of each other, but be quick about it—we have to get going soon." 

Anne reaches for her bar of soap first, telling me to "turn around and I'll do your back." I comply, water from the showerhead above and ahead of me cascading off of my breasts. Anne works the soap into my neck and shoulders, working down my arms before returning to the expanse of my back, making her way to my ass. She does not hesitate, instead making quick work of my cheeks before diving between my crack, a finger running over my rosebud several times before gently pushing in, Anne carefully avoiding a scrape with her nail. She seems to be enjoying the sensation of penetrating me this way, taking her time before finally kneeling behind me to soap my thighs and calves. She reaches my ankles, and I turn to where she is on one knee, now before me. 

"My turn."

I glance at Tim, standing there under one of the heads, lightly stroking his now-fullblown erection, enjoying the show. I begin to work on her back and shoulders, following much the same path as she had on me. I eventually reach her butt and realize I am entranced by its roundness, by how it moves and bounces under my manipulations. I remind myself to keep moving, and move on to between her crack, finding her starfish as she found mine. She squeaks a soft "oh" as my finger enters her, whether from pleasure or discomfort I can't tell. 

I eventually move on, down her legs to her ankles, and just as I had done, she turns to look down at my figure kneeling on the tiled floor. I stand, and she begins to soap my front. I return the favor, and all too soon I find my hands caressing those beautiful breasts, making them move under my slick hands, teasing the nipples, enjoying the feel of her massive tits. Anne is not idle; her hands are equally active on my smaller mounds, making my tips erect under her slippery palms. 

She is the first to move lower, down my stomach, towards my pussy. I follow her lead, our arms bumping into each other as we try to ostensibly clean, but in reality, tease, the other. Even though our excitement is mounting and our fingers are in each other's most intimate parts, we both seem reluctant to kiss in front of this man—silly, I know, given our setting, but nonetheless...

"I think you're clean," Tim tells us, shutting off the flow of water. He steps between us, tweaking one of my nipples on the way past, and opens the stall door, grabbing a towel from a nearby rack. We reluctantly do the same. I know Anne was hoping for release after her restless night, and I too had been building towards that same expectation, but our master apparently has other ideas. He dries himself before either of us can help, and shaves and brushes his teeth while we each dry ourselves and begin our morning makeup routines. I am tempted to finish what we started once Time leaves the bathroom, but am unsure what to do in this setting. Anne seems very involved in getting her hair right, and I join Tim in the living area after finishing my morning routine, where we drink our coffee.

Anne joins us a few moments later. We stand there, 2 nude women waiting for instructions from a man in a bathrobe,. He moves over to an open area by the couch. 

"Come here." We both move to where he is standing. "Karen, on your knees here—" he points to a spot at his feet, and then moves 3 steps to his left "—and Anne, you kneel here." We are obedient to his command, but curious as to the motive.

"I don't want to take a chance on you two wandering around, maybe getting into trouble while I'm getting ready," he grins, and moves out of sight into the bedroom. Anne and I look at each other, but do not move, both of us with legs tucked beneath us like the night before, hands folded in our laps. Soon we are each looking at our folded hands, lost in thought. 

Tim comes out of the room ten minutes later, dressed in his customary jeans and sneakers, as well as a dark blue sweatshirt with the initials CPU emblazoned in white across the chest. "Hey Karen, look what I found in your bag," he announces as he tosses a piece of crystal in the air with his right hand. I see a flash of green and know it's my boutonierre. Tim had instructed I not wear it last night, and Rich had politely passed the instruction along. He did not tell me, however, that he had packed it. In all honesty, I am not troubled by the appearance of the "jewelry"—I have found it can actually be rather pleasant to wear, the facets of the crystal rubbing and twisting against the sensitive nerves of my anus when I move. He moves to where Anne is kneeling and hands it to her. "Know what this is?" he asks. She turns it over a couple of times and then shakes her head negatively, reaching up to hand it back to the man standing above her. He does not take it from her, instead turning to look at me. "That's Karen's buttplug," he tells her. "She is supposed to wear it whenever I ask. Karen, tell your friend how it feels when you walk down the street with this in you?"

"It feels good," I tell her simply, making brief eye contact before she again drops her eyes to look at the jewelry. She seems intrigued by it.

"How exactly does it feel good?" he prompts. 

"The cuts rub against me when I move," I tell her, a little embarrassed to be discussing this with my best friend. "It tickles the nerve endings."

Tim has retrieved the camera and takes a couple of photos of each of us. 

"And since we're going to be walking some today, I will give her the pleasure of wearing it. Karen, on your hands and knees, please." 

I lean forward until I am on all fours, my head hanging down, unwilling to look at either Tim or Anne in this position. 

"Anne, why don't you go over and put it in for her. Make sure you get the right hole." I turn my head just enough to see my friend rise to her feet and come over to stand at my side. Out of the corner of my eye I see her sink to a knee, and I wait for the first touch of the cold hard surface against my rosebud, but Tim stops her. 

"I'll bet by this point she could take it dry," he says, "but better to not take the chance. Why don't you use your tongue to lube her up a little? Karen, shoulders on the floor, please. Point that cute little butt up in the air where she can get at it without breaking her neck."

I lower myself so my head is now turned to the left and resting on the carpet. From this position I can just make out Anne shuffling on her knees to a spot behind me before tentatively bending at the waist towards my upturned ass, approaching me slowly. 

"Ever lick an asshole?" Tim asks, as if she is about to try a new cocktail.

"No," she replies nervously, stopping in mid bend, perhaps hoping for a reprieve. 

"Very pleasurable to be on the receiving end, and not so bad for the person doing the licking either, as long as the object of your attention is clean. You did do a thorough job cleaning her, right?" 

There is no verbal confirmation, and realizing he is not changing his mind, she again bends forward, her tongue making light contact midway up the cleft between my cheeks. She swabs here for a moment, then, seeming to gather courage, moves down to my opening. Her initial touch is barely noticeable, just a tickle against my puckered ring before she moves again below as far as she can go given the angle she is at before moving up again. Her tongue touches my hole again, this time with a bit more confidence, and stays there a moment, on the muscle just above my opening. Slowly, her tongue begins to circle, always on the pucker, never dipping, until it seems to slip and bullseyes my anus. It retreats quickly, again circling, but again strays to my center, staying longer this time, flicking just a bit like a snake's tail. Tim is right, the feeling of another person's tongue on my asshole is incredibly nasty and erotic at the same time, tickling the nerve endings on a part of the body I didn't realize had any this time last year. I resist the urge to reach between my legs and stroke my clit.

"That will probably do it," he tells her. "Not so bad, was it?"

I do not hear an answer, but guess she has nodded her head to his question.

"Good. You can slip her jewelry in now." It only takes a moment before I feel the end pressing against my opening encountering some resistance to the ring of muscle before sliding through with a pop. I can only imagine the view Anne now has, of my upturned ass with an emerald winking back at her. 

"How's it look?"

"I never imagined jewelry for the butt...it's very sexy."

Tim laughs. "Sexy, and functional too. OK you two, time to get dressed. I've laid out your clothes for each of you on the bed."

"You went into my bag?" Anne asks, a note of surprise in her voice.

"Am I not allowed to?" he asks, lowering his voice, looking down at her as she continues to kneel behind me. The tone and the fact she is naked and on her knees leaves no doubt as to what he believes the answer to be. 

"No, no I guess not," she says, "it just surprised me, that's all."

"It shouldn't" he replies, moving to stand beside me. "You, and everything you brought with you, are mine for the weekend. Everything," he adds for emphasis. "Or do I need to remind you of that right now?"

"No, I understand," her voice tinged with defeat. 

"Good." The bright, confident voice again. "OK, go on in and get changed. And no fooling around in there—we've got things to do today."

We retire to the bedroom to find he has laid out jeans and turtleneck sweaters for both of us, a cream colored mock turtle for me, a white cable knit for Ann. We are both allotted bras and boots, but no panties. Luckily our jeans are loose enough so chafing will not be an issue.

"Does it really feel good?" she asks quietly as she begins work her breasts into the cups of her impressive bra. 

"Does what...oh, my buttoniere?" I ask, finally understanding what she is referring to. "Yeah, I guess it does. I don't think I could wear it every day, but when he tells me to, I kinda like it. It tickles a little bit.

I'm sorry you had to...y'know...lick me there."

Anne laughs, stepping into her jeans. "It's OK. It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be, I just felt incredibly slutty. I never occurred to me you could do that! Did I do it right?" she asks in a quieter tone, looking for affirmation, "did it feel like when other people have done it to you?"




For the Weekend Pt. 02 Ch. 08



"Dunno," I admit, "that's the first time I've ever had it done to me. It did feel good, though. I can see why our master likes me to test his cleanliness that way." We laugh at my reference to the man in the other room but our laughter dies away as we both pick up our sweaters at the same time. The collars we tried on the night before lie beneath them. We look at each other nervously before my attention returns to the strip of leather. I move first, putting my sweater back down and reaching for the collar. I put it on while trying to convince myself it's just another necklace. I finish before Anne and see she is doing the same, head bent as she reaches to the back of her neck to buckle the leather ends together. "Bet you never had a necklace with that kind of clasp," I joke weakly.

"Actually, I have," she responds, a hint of a smile on her face. "There was this one time I was led around our apartment on all fours..." her voice trails off, and I don't prompt her for more.

"Ladies, are you ready?" Tim is now standing in the doorway, making a show of slipping the matching leather leads into the pocket of his sweatshirt. "I suppose you could go out like that, but it's pretty cold to be leaving that much skin uncovered." Anne and I retrieve our sweaters, thankful for the turtlenecks we have been provided, doing our best to cover our adornments without being too obvious as well as the fact the leashes are not being attached at this time. Tim just chuckles and shakes his head at our attempts at modesty, then leads us down through the lobby and out to the sidewalk.