1 comments/ 26690 views/ 0 favorites Of Two Minds By: Sirhickory Pacing like a caged lion, her thoughts twisted in her head. She had done wrong and she knew it. His eyes never left her. He let her walk. He let her work the details over in her mind. He could very easily stand up take her by the wrist and administer the punishment she so richly deserved, but he would not. He would sooner let her walk out of his life than allow the luxury of not committing herself to the spanking she deserved. Back and forth, her path became a worn mark in the carpet. She could feel his eyes on her. She could feel their weight bare down on her almost as fiercely as the guilt that ached in her belly. She knew better than that didn't she? What had made her do it? Was she really this intent on testing him? Damn. There he sat, true to his word. The hard backed chair looked almost as daunting as his hand. She knew their feel from the many times they had made love. Could those hands also deliver the paddling he had promised her when she had confessed? Her resolve was breaking. He could see it. She knew she was in trouble and she knew he was right. He had promised her in the beginning that if she were to break the rules he would discipline her in a way that would leave her remembering the lesson for days. He flexed his fingers and cracked his knuckles. The effect upon her was unmistakable as she stopped her pacing and looked fiercely at him. But he watched as her look softened and became the look of shame and regret. He knew she wanted to apologize and run into his arms and beg for forgiveness. What if she were to run to him and beg him for forgiveness? Surely he wouldn't spank me if I did that, would he? The look in his eyes confirmed her darkest fears. He was intent, and she knew she would have to face it or lose him. Head hung low, she began to march towards him, each agonizing step closer increasing the level of terror in her belly ten fold. She hoped his gaze would grow lighter as she approached, but the look of resolve never faltered from his eyes. Reaching his side, she couldn't bare to look at him for fear she might run as fast as her legs would carry her. How she quivered. He could see her terror, and although he didn't like scaring her, he knew that this was necessary for her to feel in order to make the lesson stick. Her scolding hours earlier had reduced her to tears, this he thought would shake her to her bones. Still, when she had vehemently refused to bend over his knee when told to, she had turned what would have been a quick paddling into a very real lesson she would not soon forget. "You understand the problem little girl?" "yes sir." She said in a diminutive voice. "Are you ready to face the consequences?" The question shot through her like a bullet. Barely a whisper, "yes sir" she said. "Your overdressed then little girl" Shocked and more than a little alarmed, her eyes shot to his. Did he really mean for her to undress herself. Wouldn't he at least take that responsibility from her? Couldn't he make this just a little bit easier? She knew the answer. He was a man of his word and when he told her it would be worse if she didn't get over his knee those many hours earlier, he was not joking. The first and second button of her Levi's released cautiously by her quivering fingers. However as she found one after the next, she discovered that she could in fact take them down and kick them off. The look of defiance returned to her face and she sought his eyes once again. The triumph was short lived though. His eyes were not impressed. "You may have behaved like a little girl and you may be punished like a little girl, but you will NOT be dressed as a little girl. UNDRESS." He could feel the strength in his voice and knew that the shock value alone would be enough to wipe that smug look from her face. He knew that she had expected to only have to remove her pants and he would take care of the rest. He was going to teach her differently. IF she wanted to defy him, then he would show her what that meant. She could feel the protest beginning to rise in her voice. Naked? He was going to spank her naked? NO....She would not do that, but even as she heard that voice screaming in her head, she realized that the last time she had refused him, it had wound her up in even more trouble. Would she do that again. She tried to bury the inner voice, and comply with his orders even as the terror swam in her. First her shirt, then her sox, then her bra; she stood before him in only her panties and hoped it would be enough. The feeling was so strange. She had been naked in front of him so many times before. He had caressed, kissed, held, loved and touched every part of her body inside and out one way or another in the time that she had known him, but this was different. She was exposing herself to his scrutiny for the first time, but more than that, she was opening herself up to his authority. She knew that her choice to stand in front of him now meant that she would be his. She was giving herself to him to love, honor, cherish, hold and when necessary, discipline. A tear began to form a trail down her cheek. Her body was magnificent and he had never tired of looking at it before. He could see how she trembled and smiled inwardly with some satisfaction at the place he found himself now. He had promised her this if she were to ever disobey him, now he was going to have to prove himself...and prove himself he would. He gestured for her to take her place at the right of his long thick legs and watched with an expectant eye as she slowly made her way to the thigh she was going to bend over. "You understand why I'm doing this don't you little girl?" "Yes sir" she said with a whisper "If that is true then push your panties to your knees and take your place over my lap." Again shock took her by surprise. Couldn't he do something? Why did she have to do it all. Couldn't he just pull her across his lap kicking and screaming and spank her like a naughty girl? Agony built inside of her. But she realized quickly that she wasn't a little girl. She wasn't a child. He was going to spank her like one, but he was going to treat her every bit like the adult who is responsible for her choices. The fear cresting inside of her, she did as she was told and pushed her panties down, and crossed his lap like the good little girl she wanted him to think of her as again. She was light, vulnerable and bare across his lap. He stroked her head once, twice and then a third time. Gently scolding her and telling her why he was going to do what he told her he would. He instructed her to hold on and to be brave, but that it was going to hurt and it was ok to cry. She could already feel the panic, fear, and regret in her body threatening to reduce her to sobs any second. His hands were soft for a few more moments, but then turned hard. He slid one hand from her head and neck down to her hip and pulled her hips tight across his lap. He lifted his one thigh up so her head was effectively lower than her bottom, and he placed that one large hard hand on her bottom. It was so hard, and so heavy she gasped with the realization that he was going to spank her and that he had the strength to leave an impression that would last a long long time. Not only that, but the feeling of her bottom being higher than her head left her with a very real sense of vulnerability. He opened her thighs for her and ordered her up on her tip toes. He watched as she responded with the quickness of a frightened deer. He caressed her thigh a while longer and touched her bottom. He continued to scold her softly in a way that penetrated to her very core. She felt the very real sense of guilt and anguish. She had let him down. She had let this man who loved her so completely, down. The realization hit, this man did not spank her as a means of revenge. He was going to spank her because he loved her. And then it began. Of Two Minds The middle portion of this story was intended to be conveyed in two separate columns, providing parallel presentations of different perspectives on the same events. Literotica's software does not permit such formatting. Accordingly, I have interwoven the material that was to be displayed side-by-side, formatting one portion normally and the other in ALL CAPS. ----------------------------------------- I don't really know how she did what she did to me. I just know that you shouldn't cross a research psychiatrist. She knew how to do things to a person's mind I didn't even know could be done. And I *had* crossed her. I never found out how Rachel learned about my womanizing but she had. She'd grilled me; I'd apologized; and she'd made it clear that apologies weren't enough. There wasn't much more I could do so I just walked on eggshells, hoping it would all blow over. It didn't. While I was walking on eggshells, Rachel was plotting her revenge. The afternoon she put her plan into action, I was completely blindsided. I was watching TV in the family room and, when a commercial came on, I decided to go to the kitchen to get another beer. When I walked into the living room on my way to the kitchen, I stopped in my tracks. Rachel was sitting on the couch with a guy I'd never seen before. I had no idea why he was here. They were engrossed in their conversation, which I couldn't really hear, and it took a moment for Rachel to notice that I was standing there, watching them. "Oh, Larry," she said, looking up, "you're here." Well, that was obvious. It was also obvious that I was puzzled by seeing some stranger in the house. "Oh, Larry ... this is Dylan." Rachel stopped as if that was all that needed to be said. When it was apparent that I was still perplexed, she went on. "Dylan's here to help me with a project." "What?" I said rather dumbly. "Dylan's here to help me with Rache," and she emphasized the last word almost ominously. I'd never heard the word before. It wasn't until much later that I learned that it's German for 'revenge'. But I sure learned about revenge that night. And I learned a lot more that night, too. 'Rache' was some sort of trigger word, I guess. The effect of that one word—based on something Rachel had done to me with drugs or hypnosis or I don't know what—was immediate and stunning. For a moment, I was completely frozen. I was confused; my mind seemed to be swimming. I hadn't felt so strange since I'd taken acid once when I was in college. And then things got really weird. _______________________________ I looked at Dylan. I hadn't really looked at him until now. WHY WAS I LOOKING AT DYLAN? I DIDN'T GIVE A SHIT WHO THIS GUY WAS. He was a good looking guy. He had dark hair, a chiseled chin, and a good build. He was wearing a T-shirt that really showed his physique. He had remarkable pecks and his biceps stretched the arms of the T-shirt enticingly. I found myself giving him a complete look-over. HE WASN'T ANYTHING SPECIAL: AVERAGE LOOKING AND PROBABLY AN AVERAGE GUY. I TRIED TO LOOK BACK AT RACHEL, BUT I COULDN'T. WHAT THE HELL WAS HAPPENING TO ME? IT WAS AS IF SOMEONE ELSE WAS CONTROLLING ME. I WAS A PASSENGER IN MY OWN BODY. My eyes were powerfully drawn to Dylan's crotch. I'm not sure why. It's not as if I could really see anything—just a slight bulge. But that bulge fascinated me. I couldn't take my eyes off it. SHIT! I WAS LOOKING AT HIS CROTCH. WHAT THE FUCK?! I TRIED AGAIN TO CONTROL MY BODY—AT LEAST MY EYES—BUT COULDN'T. I COULDN'T EVEN CLOSE THEM. Like a moth to a flame, I was drawn toward Dylan. Rachel was looking at me closely; I could see her smile encouragingly. But I really didn't need any encouragement. I was fixated on my goal and nothing was going to deter me. JESUS CHRIST! I WAS WALKING OVER TOWARD THAT CREEP. RACHEL WAS SMIRKING AT ME—A SELF-SATISFIED, SUPERIOR SMIRK. I HATED THAT. I MEAN, I GET IT THAT SHE WAS AGGRIEVED. BUT THIS—WHATEVER SHE WAS DOING TO ME—WAS TOO MUCH. I COULDN'T STOP MYSELF FROM WALKING TOWARD DYLAN. I WAS SHAKING WITH ANGER AT WHAT WAS BEING DONE TO ME. A boldness possessed me. I walked slowly toward Dylan, trembling with excitement. As I approached him, he turned toward me, giving me a sweet, inviting smile. I knelt down between his knees, putting one hand on the inside of each of his muscular thighs. I felt a shiver of excitement go through my body as I slowly moved my hands up toward his crotch. I could tell that he and Rachel were looking at me, but my attention was completely focused on Dylan's crotch. THE JERK TURNED TOWARD ME, SMIRKING WITH A SUPERIOR GRIN. OH, MY GOD! I WAS KNEELING DOWN BETWEEN HIS THIGHS. MY HANDS TOUCHED THE INSIDES OF HIS THIGHS AND I FELT A SHIVER OF REVULSION SURGE THROUGH MY BODY. MY HANDS MOVED UP HIS THIGHS TOWARD HIS CROTCH. I COULD SEE THE TWO OF THEM LOOKING AT ME WITH DERISION; I COULDN'T MEET THEIR EYES. INSTEAD, MY EYES WERE FOCUSED, AGAINST ALL THE WILL I COULD MUSTER, RIGHT ON THIS GUY'S CROTCH WHICH, I WAS DISTRESSED TO SEE, WAS SWELLING LEWDLY. I thought I could see it rising. My eyes were riveted on this beautiful sight. My heart was pounding with excitement as I moved my hands up to caress his hardening cock through his pants. I could feel the hardness, and even the heat, of his swelling member. I WATCHED HELPLESSLY AS MY HANDS MOVED TO MASSAGE THE BULGE IS DYLAN'S PANTS. HE WAS GETTING HARD QUICKLY. WHAT KIND OF A FUCKING FAGGOT WAS THIS GUY? HE WASN'T HARD FROM ANY ANTICIPATION OF ACTION WITH RACHEL. NO! IT WAS THE TOUCH OF A POOR GUY WHO WAS A VICTIM OF SOME SORT OF MODERN-DAY BLACK MAGIC OF PSYCHIATRY THAT GOT THIS SICK PERVERT HARD. I felt a surge of power at the thought of my ability to provoke this sort of excitement in a hot guy like Dylan. I loved the feeling, but I found myself eager to move on for more. I reached up to undo Dylan's belt and zipper, and then drew back, pulling his pants as I did. Dylan rose up obligingly and pushed his pants down. I backed away and let him finish getting his pants off completely. As he did, I watched his erect cock spring up to his abdomen and flop around as Dylan shifted his weight to get his pants off. THEN MY HANDS WERE UNZIPPING HIS PANTS AND TRYING TO PULL THEM OFF. THERE WAS NO WAY THOSE PANTS WOULD COME OFF WITHOUT DYLAN'S HELP. UNFORTUNATELY FOR ME, HE WAS HAPPY TO HELP. I FOUND MYSELF SITTING BACK ON MY HEELS, MY EYES FIXED ON HIS OBSCENELY ERECT PRICK. IT WAS DISGUSTING. THIS ASSHOLE WAS WATCHING ME WITH A SMUG, SELF-SATISFIED LEER, KNOWING I COULD DO NOTHING TO STOP WHAT WAS OBVIOUSLY TO COME EVEN THOUGH I WAS REVOLTED BEYOND DESCRIPTION. What a stunningly gorgeous sight! Dylan's cock was large, which was nice of course. But, more importantly, it was so beautifully shaped—smooth but with a very pronounced helmet. I found myself fantasizing about how that well-defined ridge at the bottom of the helmet would feel sliding between my lips and over my tongue. The thought that I would soon be living my fantasy made my heart race. I put my hands gently on the insides of Dylan's thighs again, this time touching his bare skin. I shivered again, with excitement. His cock twitched, showing me that the feeling was very much mutual, which excited me even more. I brought my hands up under Dylan's large, round balls—balls that hung loose, now, below his hard cock that was standing proudly at attention—for attention—for my attention. And it was going to get it. HIS RIGID ROD PULSED WITH EXCITEMENT AND I FELT LIKE I SHOULD BE GAGGING, BUT MY BODY WASN'T SHOWING WHAT MY MIND WAS FEELING. IF IT HAD, I'D HAVE BEEN THROWING UP OR, MORE LIKELY, BEATING THE CRAP OUT OF THIS SMUG ASSHOLE. INSTEAD, MY HANDS WERE BACK ON HIS THIGHS, WORKING THEIR WAY UP TOWARD HIS EAGER TOOL. HELPLESS TO CHANGE THE COURSE OF EVENTS, I WATCHED MY HANDS RUN UP DYLAN'S THIGHS, UNDER HIS BALLS, AND UP TO SURROUND HIS COCK. I FELT A SHIVER OF REVULSION, BUT I COULDN'T STOP MY HANDS FROM APPROACHING THEIR DESTINATION. AND I COULDN'T KEEP MY MOUTH FROM SMILING, WHICH I'M SURE LED THIS ASSHOLE TO MISINTERPRET MY SHUDDER OF REVULSION FOR SOMETHING ELSE. I leaned toward Dylan's inviting cock—moving slowly, not from hesitation but from the desire to savor the moment. I'd never felt this exquisite combination of incredible power together with complete powerlessness. The power I exercised over Dylan's cock was obvious. It was matched—maybe exceeded—by the power that cock was exercising over me. The power I felt controlling me wasn't coercive--it wasn't the power to make me do something I didn't want to do. It was the power to make me want to do something so much I couldn't even imagine not doing it if given the chance. I COULDN'T CLOSE MY EYES. I TRIED TO TURN MY ATTENTION TO SOMETHING ELSE. BUT IT WAS IMPOSSIBLE. THE IMAGE OF HIS HARD COCK SURROUNDED BY MY HAND WAS BURNING ITSELF INTO MY RETINAS. I WASN'T ABLE TO IGNORE IT. AND IT GOT WORSE. I FELT MYSELF LEAN FORWARD, TOWARD DYLAN'S COCK. WHERE THIS WAS GOING WAS OBVIOUS, OF COURSE, AND I TRIED TO STEEL MYSELF TO WHAT WAS TO COME. As I brought my lips toward Dylan's rigid shaft, my lips were quivering with excitement and I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. I was completely focused on every sensation: the look of his hard cock, straining toward me; the heat of his cock in my hand; the pleasant musky masculine scent; and the aching in my body to take his proud staff deep in my mouth. IT HELPED A LITTLE TO REPEAT IN MY MIND, "I HATE THIS ... I HATE THIS ... I HATE THIS." BUT MY BODY WASN'T SHOWING ANY SIGNS OF HATING IT. INSTEAD, I WAS LEANING IN, SEEMINGLY EAGERLY, TO TAKE DYLAN'S COCK BETWEEN MY LIPS. GOD DAMN IT, I WAS ACTING AS IF I LIKED THIS. BUT THAT WAS RIDICULOUS. THE SIGHT OF HIS HARD COCK, SO CLOSE NOW TO MY FACE WAS REVOLTING. AND THE SMELL ... IT MADE ME WANT TO THROW UP. STILL, I WAS, EVER SO SLOWLY, LEANING IN TOWARD MY INEVITABLE FATE. And then my lips were around the helmet of his cock. I ran my tongue around the tips of his cock, focusing my attention in the pronounced ridge and, especially that wonderful sensitive spot on the underside just below the helmet. I heard him moan with pleasure; or was that me? I wasn't sure. WHEN MY LIPS SURROUNDED DYLAN'S COCK, I FELT AS IF MY STOMACH SHOULD BE RETCHING, BUT I DIDN'T FEEL ANY CONSTRICTION IN MY STOMACH. MY NAUSEA WAS CONFINED TO MY MIND. INSTEAD, I WAS SERVICING THIS COCK WITH MY LIPS AND TONGUE LIKE A PRACTICED WHORE. I knew this teased Dylan, and I loved the power I felt from this. But it was teasing me, as well. And soon I couldn't stand it any longer. I plunged down to take Dylan's cock as deeply as I could. When it hit the back of my throat, I gagged and had to back off. But I worked my lips over his cock furiously and tried, on each down stroke, to take him a little deeper each time. I was determined to take him completely into my mouth. THEN IT GOT WORSE. I WAS SUDDENLY TAKING DYLAN'S COCK DEEP IN MY MOUTH. I GAGGED WHEN IT HIT THE BACK OF MY THROAT. STRANGELY, I FELT RELIEVED BY THIS. IN FACT, I FERVENTLY HOPED THAT I'D THROW UP ALL OVER DYLAN'S CROTCH. THAT SHOULD END THIS AWFUL SCENE. BUT I DIDN'T THROW UP. INSTEAD, I WAS BOBBING UP AND DOWN ON DYLAN'S COCK IN A WAY THAT LOOKED ENTHUSIASTIC. AND, REPEATEDLY, I PRESSED DOWN AS IF TRYING TO DEEP THROAT DYLAN'S COCK. And I was making progress. My gag reflex was subsiding and each time I pressed my lips toward the base of his cock, I seemed to get a little further. SHIT. I WAS STILL TRYING TO DEEP THROAT HIM. WASN'T IT OBVIOUS TO RACHEL, WHO MUST HAVE BEEN DIRECTING MY BODY'S ACTIONS, THAT THIS COCK WASN'T GOING TO GO COMPLETELY INTO MY MOUTH. Before I reached my goal, I had to pull off to catch my breath. I raised off of his cock completely, gasping for breath. My eyes were fixated on Dylan's cock. It was a beautiful sight: harder, even, than it was before. But what made it especially stunning was the way it glistened with my saliva. Trying to take his cock completely in my mouth and throat had made my mouth fill with saliva and Dylan's cock now shone with my spit. OH GOD! RELIEF! I PULLED OFF OF DYLAN'S COCK. THANK GOD. MY MOUTH WAS SORE FROM SERVICING HIM AND I WELCOMED THE RELIEF I WAS GETTING. FINALLY, I COULD BREATHE AGAIN. THAT WAS WONDERFUL. I'D BACKED AWAY FROM DYLAN'S COCK, BUT I WAS LOOKING AT IT CLOSELY. IT WAS A SICKENING SIGHT. IT WAS SLIMY WITH MY SPIT AND IT LOOKED UNNATURALLY RED. HOW COULD I HAVE TAKEN THAT REPELLENT THING IN MY MOUTH? When I'd caught my breath, I was ready to get back to my pleasant task. As I was moving back to take Dylan's cock in my mouth, I looked up at Dylan and Rachel for the first time. They were both looking at me with encouraging smiles. I couldn't help smiling back at them; I was pleased—and proud—of myself. I knew I was doing a fantastic job of pleasing Dylan. And now it was time to get back to that. AND THEN I WAS MOVING FORWARD, READY TO TAKE THAT DISGUSTING THING BACK IN MY MOUTH. AS I MOVED TOWARD DYLAN'S COCK, I SAW DYLAN AND RACHEL LOOKING AT ME—LEERING AT ME, REALLY. THEY LOOKED SMUG AND SELF-SATISFIED. I COULDN'T UNDERSTAND WHY I WAS SMILING BACK AT THEM. I WANTED TO SPIT AT THEM; I WANTED TO CURSE THEM. BUT, INSTEAD, I SMILED AT THEM AS IF I ENJOYED WHAT WAS BEING DONE TO ME. I began again, to please Dylan, and me, by working my lips over his shaft. Now I wanted to work his cock rhythmically—no longer teasing him (or me) but working him to a climax. I hadn't forgotten my goal of getting my lips completely down to his pubic bone, though. I was working him deeper and deeper into my mouth with each thrust. I BROKE MY GAZE AT MY TWO TORMENTORS, ONLY TO FIND MYSELF, ONCE AGAIN, SERVICING DYLAN'S COCK, APPEARING NOT JUST WILLING BUT EAGER. I WAS BOUNCING UP AND DOWN HIS SHAFT IN A RHYTHM THAT I KNEW WOULD BRING THIS TO A CULMINATION BEFORE TOO LONG. BUT I WAS STILL PUSHING HIM DEEP INTO THE BACK OF MY THROAT. WITH EACH CYCLE, I WAS COMING CLOSER TO COMPLETELY ENGULFING THAT COCK. Dylan's hips were beginning to thrust. I wrapped one hand around his balls, which had now tightened up against his body. I thought about the sperm that was soon to be shot from those warm, soft spheres deep into my mouth. The thought excited me and I quickened my pace. I COULD FEEL DYLAN'S THIGHS TIGHTEN AND HIS HIPS BEGAN TO BUCK. I KNEW HE WAS GETTING CLOSE. THEN, AGAINST MY WILL, MY HAND WAS AROUND HIS BALL SACK. THE THOUGHT THAT THE SLIMY SPUNK THAT WAS IN THOSE SWEATY, HAIRY NUTS WOULD SOON BE SHOOTING INTO MY MOUTH SICKENED ME. Suddenly, Dylan's hands were on the back of my head. He wasn't forcing me. (How can you force someone to do what they're trying with every fiber of their body to do?) He was just controlling my rhythm and (I was pleased to sense) encouraging me to take him completely into my mouth. We had the same objective. THEN THE BASTARD PUT HIS HANDS ON MY HEAD. NOW I COULDN'T PULL OFF HIS COCK EVEN IF, SOMEHOW, I REGAINED CONTROL OVER MY BODY. I AS RESIGNED TO MY FATE. I JUST WANTED THIS TO BE OVER. IT WAS CLEAR THAT DYLAN WOULD GET WHAT HE WANTED EVEN THOUGH I WANTED, MORE THAN ANYTHING, TO BITE OFF HIS COCK AND SPIT IT BACK IN HIS FACE. I found myself silently repeating, over and over again, the single word, "Please." "Please," I was thinking, "please give me your sweet seed. Please fill my hungry mouth with your hot cum. Please cum for me." MORE THAN ANYTHING, I WANTED THIS TO END. I FOUND MYSELF SILENTLY PLEADING: "PLEASE ... PLEASE LET THIS END!" I KNEW NOW THAT IT WASN'T GOING TO END BEFORE DYLAN HAD BLOWN HIS LOAD IN MY MOUTH. I HATED THAT, OF COURSE. BUT MOST OF ALL, NOW, I JUST WANTED IT TO END. Dylan's balls tightened to his groin. I knew my reward was in the pipeline. It was now or never. If I was going to achieve the goal I'd set myself, I had to do it now. I pressed down hard on his cock, trying to open my throat and swallow. And suddenly, my lips were tight against his pubic bone. I felt his pubic hairs tickle the inside of my nose. And I held him there, swallowing repeatedly, even though he hadn't blown his load yet. I was trying to milk him with my throat muscles. DYLAN JERKED UP AND I KNEW HE WAS STARTING TO SHOOT. I COULDN'T BELIEVE IT, BUT INSTEAD OF PULLING OFF OF HIS COCK, I FOUND MYSELF PRESSING DOWN FURTHER THAN EVER. AND THEN HIS COCK FOUND ITS WAY DEEP INTO MY THROAT. AGAINST EVERY INSTINCT, I'D OPENED MY THROAT TO THIS INVADER. I WAS TRYING TO SWALLOW IT COMPLETELY. MY LIPS WERE AGAINST HIS PUBIC BONE AND MY FACE WAS BURIED IN HIS PUBIC HAIR. It worked. He was suddenly spewing copious amounts of cum. I could feel the first pulse of it press past my lips. As great as it felt to have Dylan's cock completely in me, I pulled back quickly. If I hadn't, all his sweet cum would have gone directly down my throat. I wanted to taste him. I'd already lost the chance to taste the first jet of semen. I wasn't going to miss the opportunity to savor the rest. I FELT HIM START TO SPEW. I COULD FEEL THE SPUNK SHOOTING UP HIS SHAFT. THE FIRST SPURT WENT DIRECTLY INTO MY THROAT. AND THEN I PULLED BACK. THE ONLY GOOD THING ABOUT HAVING DYLAN'S COCK DEEP IN MY THROAT WAS THAT IF HE SHOT HIS WAD DOWN MY THROAT, I WOULDN'T HAVE TO ACTUALLY TASTE IT. BUT I WAS PULLING BACK, AS IF I WANTED TO TASTE HIS SALTY SEED. IT DIDN'T MATTER WHAT I WANTED THOUGH. I DIDN'T CONTROL ANYTHING IN THIS SCENE. Savor it I did, too. Wave after wave of sweet semen filled my mouth. I held it all without swallowing. It was salty and tangy. It wasn't sweet in taste, but I couldn't think of it as anything but sweet. MY MOUTH WAS FILLED WITH DISGUSTING, SLIMY SPUNK. WHY WASN'T I SPITTING IT OUT? WHY COULDN'T I AT LEAST OPEN MY LIPS AND LET IT SLIP BACK DOWN DYLAN'S COCK? I DON'T KNOW. BUT FOR SOME REASON I COULDN'T. When Dylan's eruption subsided, I slowly pulled off his cock, being careful not to lose any of my treat. I backed away, onto my heels and looked at what I'd wrought, still holding my reward in my mouth. Dylan had collapsed back into a stupor of pleasure. His cock was still hard, but beginning to soften. Again, I felt pleasure and pride in what I'd been able to accomplish. EVEN WHEN I FINALLY PULLED OFF THE ROD THAT HAD RAPED MY MOUTH, I HELD DYLAN'S JIZZ IN MY MOUTH, SWISHING IT AROUND AS IF TASTING A FINE WINE. BUT THANK GOD THAT I DIDN'T STILL HAVE MY JAW PRIED WIDE WITH HIS COCK. I ROCKED BACK ONTO MY HEELS NOW, LOOKING AT DYLAN. HE LOOKED AS IF HE WAS IN A COMA—HAVING VERY HAPPY DREAMS, APPARENTLY. HIS EYES WERE CLOSED, BUT THERE WAS A SATISFIED SMILE ON HIS FACE. Dylan's eyes were closed but Rachel was watching me closely. I wasn't sure what she was thinking, but she was smiling at me approvingly. I smiled back. Our eyes were locked as I swallowed Dylan's sweet load. When I'd emptied my mouth, I found myself smiling even more broadly. I took a deep breath and sighed with satisfaction. RACHEL WAS LOOKING AT ME. SHE SMILED WITH A VERY CONDESCENDING SMILE. I WAS THINKING HOW MUCH I HATED HER FOR DOING WHATEVER SHE'D DONE TO ME. BUT MY MOUTH TURNED TO A SMILE AS I SWALLOWED HER CO-CONSPIRATOR'S SLIME AND, THEN, MY SMILE BROADENED EVEN MORE. Dylan had opened his eyes again and was looking at me. He smiled sweetly at me and I smiled back. I could tell how much pleasure I'd caused him and it pleased me to think that I had. DYLAN LOOKED AT ME WITH A SMUG, SELF-SATISFIED SMIRK. I COULD TELL THAT HE WAS FEELING VERY POWERFUL AND SUPERIOR TO ME. I HATED IT THAT I'D UNWILLINGLY GIVEN HIM CAUSE FOR SUCH FEELINGS. Suddenly I felt as if I needed to leave the room. It was strange. I felt comfortable kneeling there in front of Rachel and Dylan, still tasting his sweet semen in my mouth. But I felt like leaving. So I got up and headed for the bedroom. As I walked back to the bedroom, I ran my tongue around my mouth, savoring the last remnants of Dylan's deposit on my tongue. Of Two Minds I STARTED TO GET UP, AS IF TO LEAVE THE ROOM. IF I'D HAD ANY CONTROL OF MY BODY, THIS WOULD HAVE HAPPENED LONG AGO. I DIDN'T. I WAS THANKFUL, THOUGH, THAT WHATEVER—OR WHOEVER (I ASSUMED IT WAS RACHEL)—WAS CONTROLLING MY BODY WAS FINALLY LETTING ME ESCAPE MY TORMENT. I WAS HEADED BACK TO THE BEDROOM. I HOPED, MORE THAN ANYTHING, THAT I COULD GO TO THE BATHROOM AND GARGLE WITH MOUTHWASH. I COULD STILL TASTE THE VILE SPERM IN MY MOUTH. I COULD STILL SMELL IT IN MY NOSTRILS. WORST OF ALL, I COULD STILL FEEL ITS SLIMY TEXTURE ON MY TONGUE. When I got to the bedroom, I stopped short, surprised by what I saw. On the bed, laid out neatly, was a beautiful outfit—a skirt and blouse—and all the sexy trappings to go with it. The skirt was bright red and ridiculously short. The blouse was black and very slinky. There were black lacy panties and a matching garter belt and bra. And, there was a pair of black nylon stockings—not pantyhose—lying next to the other clothes. WHAT I SAW IN THE BEDROOM STUNNED ME. RACHEL HAD LAID OUT WOMEN'S CLOTHING ON THE BED—CLOTHING I'D NEVER SEEN HER WEAR. IN FACT, IT WAS CLOTHING THAT I COULDN'T IMAGINE HER WEARING. THE SKIRT LOOKED LIKE SOMETHING A HOOKER WOULD WEAR. I DIDN'T KNOW WHAT IT WAS DOING THERE. I could see that the entire outfit would be incredibly sexy and that thought instantly turned me on. I walked over to the bed and held up the blouse against my chest. The material felt delicious. It was soft and satiny and I could tell that it would drape suggestively over a woman's body. I FOUND MYSELF WALKING OVER TO INSPECT THE CLOTHES MORE CLOSELY. AND THEN I WAS HOLDING THE BLOUSE UP AGAINST MY BODY, AS IF I WAS IMAGINING WEARING IT. I HAD TO ADMIT THAT THE FEEL OF THE BLOUSE IN MY HANDS WAS SENSUOUS. I'D HAVE LOVED RUNNING MY HANDS OVER THIS BLOUSE IF IT WERE ON A SEXY WOMAN. BUT THE THOUGHT THAT I WAS HOLDING IT UP TO MY BODY AS IF IMAGINING IT ON ME, SICKENED ME. Then I had a naughty thought—a naughty, incredibly delicious, thought. It came to me full blown and I knew exactly what I was going to do. I hurried to the bathroom and started running a bath. As I was turning away from the tub, I saw Rachel's bubble bath and decided to add some to the water. Then I turned to the mirror over the sink and began taking off my clothes. They felt awkward: bulky and rough. I was happy to be getting them off. I DROPPED THE BLOUSE AND HEADED FOR THE BATHROOM. MY HOPE THAT I WAS HEADED FOR THE MOUTHWASH WAS QUICKLY DASHED AS I WALKED OVER AND STARTED A BATH. WELL, THAT WAS OKAY, I GUESS. MAYBE TAKING A BATH WOULD HELP ME FEEL CLEAN AGAIN. BUT THEN I PICKED UP RACHEL'S BUBBLE BATH AND POURED SOME IN THE TUB. THAT WAS WEIRD. When I was naked, I looked at myself in the mirror. I wasn't sure I liked what I saw. What I saw was a reasonably attractive person, slender—just 145 lbs. and 5'8" tall—with fine, symmetric features. I certainly didn't have a triangular shaped body. I had pretty narrow shoulders, a trim waist, and a flat stomach. That was all fine. But I didn't like the fact that my legs were hairy. I didn't have a lot of body hair anywhere else except for my pubic hair and under my arms. I BEGAN STRIPPING MY CLOTHES OFF. THAT'S REASONABLE ENOUGH IF YOU'RE GOING TO TAKE A BATH. BUT THEN I WAS SUDDENLY FOCUSING ON MY BODY IN THE MIRROR. THERE WERE THINGS I DIDN'T LIKE ABOUT MY BODY. I GUESS MOST PEOPLE FEEL THAT WAY. I DIDN'T HAVE MUCH OF A PHYSIQUE OR MUCH MUSCLE DEFINITION. I HAD A SLIGHT BUILD AND LOOKING AT IT REMINDED ME THAT I'D BEEN TEASED IN HIGH SCHOOL FOR BEING A TWINK. ABOUT THE ONLY THING THAT LOOKED REALLY MANLY ABOUT ME—OTHER THAN MY COCK, OF COURSE—WAS MY LEG HAIR. I MIGHT HAVE THOUGHT ABOUT BEING A SWIMMER IN HIGH SCHOOL, BUT THEY ALL SHAVED THEIR ENTIRE BODIES AND I WASN'T ABOUT TO REMOVE MY MOST MASCULINE TRAIT. The tub was about full so I turned it off and climbed in through the mountain of softly scented bubbles. For a moment, I just lay back, closed my eyes and relaxed. I thought about what I'd just done to Dylan. It seemed so out of character; but, then, why was it so incredibly satisfying? AFTER TURNING OFF THE WATER, I CLIMBED INTO THE TUB. I DIDN'T CARE FOR THE BUBBLES, BUT THE HOT WATER FELT GOOD. I LAY BACK AND TRIED TO FORGET WHAT HAD JUST HAPPENED. IT WASN'T REALLY ME THAT HAD DONE ANY OF THAT. I JUST HAD TO FORGET IT. After a few minutes, I sat up and reached for Rachel's razor. That leg hair was coming off. I didn't have to put up with it, and I wasn't going to. I propped my leg up above the bubbles and started at my ankles. I wasn't experienced with this, so I took my time. WOULDN'T IT HAVE BEEN NICE TO JUST FORGET? BUT I FOUND MYSELF SITTING UP AND REACHING AROUND FOR SOMETHING. I GRABBED RACHEL'S RAZOR. I WATCHED IN DISMAY AS MY HANDS PROCEEDED TO GUIDE THAT RAZOR OVER MY LEGS, DENUDING THEM OF MY MOST MASCULINE TRAIT. MY ATTEMPTS TO STOP THIS BY CONTROLLING MY HANDS WERE AS UNSUCCESSFUL HAS THEY'D BEEN EARLIER. Shaving my legs was in incredibly sensuous thing. I don't know why women complain about having to shave. The feeling of the razor gliding over my legs and leaving in its wake bare, sensitive skin was incredible. I decided that being careful not to cut myself was one reason for going slowly; but extending these wonderful sensations was another. SCRAPE BY SCRAPE, MY LEGS WERE BEING STRIPPED OF HAIR. FIRST ONE, THEN THE OTHER. BEFORE LONG, THEY LOOKED LIKE THE LEGS OF A PRE-PUBESCENT KID. THERE WERE NO CUTS—NO WOUNDS TO MY LEGS—ONLY WOUNDS TO MY MASCULINE EGO. The bath water was cooling. I was ready to get out, anyway. I stood up, brushing the bubbles off my body and back into the tub. As I brushed my legs off, I reveled in the sensation. My legs felt marvelous to my hands and my hands, caressing my now smooth legs, made them tingle. I felt a shudder of pleasure go through my body. I FOUND MYSELF STANDING UP AND BRUSHING THE FOAM OFF MY BODY. THAT'S GOOD. MAYBE THIS PART OF THE ORDEAL WAS COMING TO AN END. WHEN MY HANDS BRUSHED MY LEGS, THOUGH, I FELT A SHUDDER OF REVULSION GO THROUGH MY BODY. HOW DISGUSTING IT FELT TO HAVE MY LEGS STRIPPED OF THEIR HAIR! THEY FELT LIKE WOMEN'S LEGS, FOR GOD'S SAKE. I stepped out of the tub and, as I walked to the vanity, I caught my reflection in the mirror. I noticed that my caressing of my legs had produced a predictable effect on my cock. My eyes were drawn to my crotch and I realized that the amount of pubic hair I had was really unflattering. I reached back for the razor and, very carefully in front of the mirror, corrected that problem. AS MY BODY MOVED OUT OF THE TUB, MY EYES WERE DRAWN TO THE MIRROR. IN IT I SAW A SLENDER, DENUDED MAN. I LOOKED ALMOST FEMININE—EXCEPT, THAT IS, FOR THE COCK JUTTING STRAIGHT OUT OF MY CROTCH. IT WAS A FREAKISH LOOK, KIND OF LIKE ONE OF THOSE TRANSSEXUALS YOU CAN SEE PICTURES OF ON THE WEB. MY HEAD TURNED AWAY AND, FOR A MOMENT, I THOUGHT THAT WAS A BLESSING—NOT TO HAVE TO LOOK AT MY BODY ANYMORE. BUT WHAT I WAS DOING WAS GETTING THE RAZOR AGAIN, THIS TIME TO REMOVE MOST OF MY PUBIC HAIR. THANK GOD I DIDN'T CUT MYSELF DOING THAT. When I'd removed everything except for a slender "landing strip," I was satisfied with my look. Well, really, more than satisfied. I quite liked the look, even my cock, the only manly part that remained. Turning to leave the bathroom, I remembered that I hadn't shaved my underarms. One last time with the razor and that was taken care of. Except for my head and the little strip I'd left above my cock, the only hair on my body was the slightest peach fuzz that covered my arms and chest. OH, AND I COULDN'T LEAVE IT AT THAT. OR SHOULD I SAY, WHOEVER WAS CONTROLLING MY BODY COULDN'T LEAVE IT AT THAT. I WATCHED AS I RAISED FIRST ONE ARM THEN THE OTHER TO SHAVE WHAT LITTLE UNDERARM HAIR I HAD COMPLETELY OFF. I went back into the bedroom to look at the clothes Rachel had left for me there. I noticed something I hadn't seen before. On the dresser were a blonde wig and some things I couldn't make out at first. Walking over to investigate, I was amazed and delighted with what Rachel had done for me. I MOVED BACK INTO THE BEDROOM—WELL, I WENT ALONG IN MY BODY FOR A RIDE BACK INTO THE BEDROOM. THE WOMEN'S CLOTHES WERE STILL ON THE BED, OF COURSE, BUT I NOTICED SOMETHING I HADN'T SEEN BEFORE. RACHEL HAD PUT A WIG AND SOME OTHER THINGS ON THE DRESSER. Next to the wig was a plastic container. Opening it, I found remarkably realistic breast forms. Excitedly, I held them up to my chest and looked in the mirror behind the dresser. They were at least a B-cup, maybe a C-cup—big enough to fit my body but not so big as to make me look freakish. I COULDN'T TELL WHAT THE "OTHER THINGS" WERE, BUT I WAS SOON TO FIND OUT. I WATCHED AS I WALKED OVER AND OPENED A CONTAINER NEXT TO THE WIG. MY HANDS PULLED OUT TWO FAKE BOOBS—VERY REALISTIC ONES, RIGHT DOWN TO THE AREOLES AND NIPPLES. MY HANDS HELD THEM UP TO MY CHEST AND, I WAS FORCED TO LOOK AT THEM, HELD THERE AS IF THEY WERE MINE. Then I saw a bottle of adhesive. I opened it—inhaling the rubber-cement-like smell—and used the brush that was attached to the inside of the cap to put adhesive on the back side of one of the breasts. I didn't have any experience but it turned out not to be that hard to position it properly on my chest. It adhered immediately and I smoothed the edges to my skin. It looked so terrific that I couldn't wait to get my other breast on to finish the transformation. I LOOKED ON HELPLESSLY AS MY HANDS OPENED A BOTTLE MARKED 'ADHESIVE' AND SLATHERED THE FOUL-SMELLING STUFF ON THE BACK OF ONE OF THE PHONY TITS. IT FELT COLD AS MY HANDS ALIGNED IT TO MY CHEST AND PRESSED IT ON. MY EYES WENT TO THE REFLECTION IN THE MIRROR AND I LOOKED ON WITH HORROR. THE CURRENT ASYMMETRY WAS JARRING, BUT THE SIDE WITH THE FAKE BOOB LOOKED INCREDIBLY REALISTIC. IF I COULD HAVE FORGOTTEN THAT THIS WAS MY OWN CHEST THAT I WAS LOOKING AT, I COULD HAVE BEEN TURNED ON. AS IT WAS, I FELT ONLY REVULSION. When both of my breasts were on, I took a minute to admire myself in the mirror. I looked fantastic. The breasts made my waist look smaller and gave my whole image a more feminine look. I couldn't wait to get dressed and admire myself in the mirror. SOON THE SYMMETRY PROBLEM WAS SOLVED, BUT NOT IN THE DIRECTION I WOULD HAVE PREFERRED. I HAD TWO NICE BOOBS HANGING FROM MY CHEST, LOOKING FOR ALL THE WORLD AS IF THEY WERE MY OWN NATURAL BREASTS. I'd watched Rachel get dressed up plenty of times and it wasn't hard to remember the steps. I started with the garter belt. I knew that women put these on under their panties so that they could go to the bathroom without too much fuss. I fastened it in front of me and turned it around so the clasp was in the back, as I'd seen Rachel do. Then it was time for the stockings. I sat on the bed and very carefully bunched them up on my hands so I could slip my toe into them and pull them up. When I'd watched Rachel do this, I'd always thought it looked very sexy. I didn't realize until now that it *felt* very sexy, too. The feeling of the smooth stockings against my now-smooth legs was sensuous. I felt my cock rising again. I MOVED TO THE BED AND BEGAN PUTTING ON THE CLOTHES THAT RACHEL HAD PLACED THERE FOR ME. AS I WAS PUTTING ON THE GARTER BELT, I REFLECTED ON MY SORRY SITUATION. I COULD CONTROL NOTHING; I COULD ONLY WATCH. I KNEW THIS AND STILL I TRIED TO CHANGE THINGS. IF THERE WAS NOTHING I COULD DO TO ALTER WHERE THIS ALL WAS GOING, COULDN'T I AT LEAST HURRY IT ALONG? COULDN'T I MAKE IT HAPPEN FASTER—GET IT OVER WITH? BUT, NOW, MY BODY WASN'T GOING THROUGH THESE MOTIONS AS IF THIS WAS SOMETHING TO BE GOTTEN THROUGH. MY BODY WAS ACTING AS IF THIS WAS A WONDERFUL, SENSUOUS EXPERIENCE—ESPECIALLY WHEN I WAS PULLING BLACK STOCKINGS UP OVER MY SMOOTH LEGS. I WATCHED AS MY HANDS CARESSED MY LEGS GENTLY AND FELT, WITH HORROR, MY COCK RISING FROM MY GENDER-BENT AUTOEROTICA. The bra matched my black, lacy garter belt and the panties. I knew, too, to clip this in front and then move the clasp to the back. I'd seen Rachel sometimes put on bras this way; other times, she'd just fastened them behind her back. This way seemed a lot easier—especially for a novice like me. PREDICTABLY, THE BRA WAS NEXT. STOCKINGS AND A GARTER BELT ARE INCONSISTENT WITH MALENESS, OF COURSE. BUT THERE WAS SOMETHING ABOUT PUTTING ON A BRA THAT SEEMED TO BE A COMPLETE SURRENDER OF MASCULINITY. Slipping my arms through my bra straps and feeling the cups support my breasts excited me. I reached in to first one cup, then the other, to adjust my breasts in the bra. Looking down, I saw marvelous cleavage and, beyond that, a rigidly hard cock sticking straight out from my crotch. The contrast was arousing. I ADJUSTED THE BRA LIKE I'D SEEN RACHEL DO WHEN SHE PUT ONE ON. AS WHEN I LOOKED IN THE MIRROR AT MY "BREASTS," THIS CAUSED A MIXED RESPONSE IN ME. ON THE ONE HAND, IT FELT VERY MUCH LIKE REACHING INTO A WOMAN'S BRA AND FEELING A FULL, SOFT BREAST. WHAT GUY WOULDN'T WANT TO DO THAT? ON THE OTHER HAND, THE "BREASTS" WERE ON MY OWN CHEST. WHAT GUY WOULDN'T BE HORROR-STRUCK BY THAT THOUGHT? I decided it was time, now, to "put on my face," as I'd heard girls say. I sat down at Rachel's dressing table. She had all the necessary supplies. Unfortunately, I didn't know how to use these very well. I'm afraid my efforts were a little amateurish. Still, I did my best with rouge and powder, mascara and eye shadow. After I'd finished with the make-up and put my wig on, I liked what I saw in the mirror. My face was passable—attractive really. I'm sure I could do better with practice, and maybe Rachel would help me. But this would do for now. I FOUND MYSELF SITTING DOWN AT RACHEL'S MAKE-UP TABLE AND TRYING, NOT TOO SUCCESSFULLY, TO FEMINIZE MY FACE. I USED ROUGE AND POWDER. WHEN I PUT ON MASCARA, I WINCED AT HAVING TO PUT SOMETHING SO CLOSE TO MY EYES. THANK GOD I DIDN'T TRY TO PUT ON EYE LINER. WHEN I'D FINISHED AND PUT ON THE WIG THAT RACHEL HAD LEFT FOR ME, I STARED AT MYSELF IN THE MIRROR, FEELING CONSIDERABLE DISTRESS. I COULDN'T DENY THAT I HAD BECOME A DECENT LOOKING WOMAN—MAYBE NOT PASSABLE ON CLOSE INSPECTION, BUT CERTAINLY ABLE TO PASS ON A CASUAL GLANCE. BUT THE THOUGHT THAT THIS WAS MY FACE WAS VERY UNSETTLING. I put on my heels. These might take some practice. They weren't that high—about three inches. Still, I didn't have any practice walking in heels. But, looking at myself in the full-length mirror on the closet doors, I couldn't help but notice how the heels shaped and defined my calves. My legs had gone from slender to shapely. I turned in front of the mirror admiring myself. AS I WATCHED MYSELF PUT ON THE HEELS RACHEL HAD PICKED OUT. AS I FELT MYSELF STANDING, I REALIZED THAT THESE THINGS COULD BE DANGEROUS. IT FELT LIKE I WAS STANDING ON STILTS. AND THEN I WAS LOOKING AT MYSELF IN THE MIRROR. AGAIN I HAD THE CONFLICTING RESPONSE OF ADMIRING THE FACT THAT I WAS AN EXTREMELY SEXY (APPARENT) FEMALE AND BEING HORRIFIED BY THAT FACT. Not only did my legs look terrific, I had a tight, well-defined ass, a flat stomach, and apparently perfectly proportioned breasts. I loved what I saw. I felt my cock rising and experienced a rush of excitement at the thought that I could turn myself on so much. BEING HORRIFIED, THOUGH, GOT ME NOWHERE. SO I DECIDED TO JUST LOOK OVER MY REFLECTION, TRYING NOT TO THINK ABOUT THE FACT THAT IT WAS ME. THE "WOMAN" I SAW IN THE MIRROR HAD GREAT LEGS AND AN ASS THAT COULD DRIVE YOU CRAZY. AND HER TITS ... HER TITS WERE TERRIFIC. FROM WHAT I COULD SEE, SHE WAS DEFINITELY SOMEONE I WOULD HIT ON IN A BAR IF GIVEN THE CHANCE. The bulge in my panties, though, didn't look right. I'd need to take care of that. This was going to be fun. THESE THOUGHTS GOT ME GOING; I COULD FEEL MY COCK STRAINING AGAINST THE PANTIES I HAD ON. I got some of the warming lubricant that we kept in the night stand and went into the bathroom, positioning myself in front of the mirror. I liked what I saw. The thought that I was going to, at least apparently, jack off a very attractive shemale was exciting and I watched as my cock, which had been semi-hard for a while, hardened even more. I pulled my panties down and hooked them under my balls so I could watch as my cock rose to full mast without even being touched. I GUESS I WAS GOING TO TAKE CARE OF THAT. WITH SOME LUBE FROM THE NIGHT STAND, I FOUND MYSELF WALKING IN TO THE BATHROOM, OBVIOUSLY WITH THE PURPOSE OF RELIEVING MY SEXUAL TENSION. MY COCK WAS STRAINING TO GET OUT OF THE LITTLE BLACK, LACY PANTIES THAT CONFINED IT. I RELEASED AND IT ROSE UP HARD AND STIFF, AS IF TO STAND AS ONE REMAINING SIGN THAT I AM, AFTER ALL, A MAN. BUT LOOKING IN THE MIRROR, AT ANY PLACE BUT THE REFLECTION OF MY COCK, MY BODY SCREAMED OTHERWISE. I dribbled some warming lotion on my hard cock and began stroking it. I didn't start fast and furious. I wanted this to last. I loved the sight of this attractive "woman" stroking her very hard cock. And, for some reason gentle stroking seemed more appropriate. I felt as if I was trying to make love to my dick, not just get it off. It was a marvelous feeling. I'd never been so aware of the shape and feel of my cock. I was focused as much on how my cock felt in my hand as how my hand felt on my cock. I could feel the pronounced head of my cock as it slipped in and out of my fist. With my other hand, I fondled my breasts, wishing they were real and could feel my hands on them. THEN I WAS JACKING OFF. I CAN'T DENY THAT THIS WAS A PRETTY HOT JACK-OFF SESSION. I'D ALWAYS LIKED LOOKING AT PICTURES OF SHEMALES AND, NOW, HERE I WAS (APPARENTLY) JACKING ONE OFF. BUT THE THOUGHT THAT THIS WAS *ME* THAT I WAS LOOKING AT MADE ME ANGRY. WHAT I WANTED TO DO WAS TO BEAT OFF SO FURIOUSLY THAT I WOULD PUSH ALL OF THAT OUT OF MY MIND. INSTEAD, MY HAND WAS CARESSING MY COCK LOVINGLY, LIKE A WOMAN MIGHT MAKE LOVE TO HER MAN'S COCK. I TRIED TO WILL MY HAND TO MOVE FASTER—TO JACK MY HARD COCK FASTER—BUT I WASN'T IN CONTROL. I WAS JUST ALONG FOR THE RIDE. SO, I TOLERATED THE SLOW, SENSUOUS STROKING. WELL, TRUTH BE TOLD, I DID MORE THAN TOLERATE IT. IT FELT TERRIFIC—AT LEAST AS LONG AS I FOCUSED MAINLY ON THE SENSATIONS MY COCK WAS RECEIVING AND NOT SO MUCH ON HOW MY COCK FELT TO MY HAND. Gradually, I worked the rhythm up to a faster pace until I felt my balls begin to boil and could tell that my orgasm was inevitable. When I hit that point of no return, I did something I'd never done before. I pulled my hand away from my cock and fondled my breasts, one hand on each, while my cock began spurting stream after stream onto the bathroom counter. It was an unnatural act. Who stops stroking his cock just when it's about to shoot? But unnatural or not, it intensified my orgasm. My hips were thrusting in a desperate and vain attempt to bring my cock into contact with something. Despite the intensity of my orgasm, I watched intently as my bare cock shot line after line of cum. BEFORE TOO LONG, THE SPEED OF MY STROKING BEGAN TO PICK UP AND I FELT THE WONDERFUL ONSET OF AN IMPENDING ORGASM. THANK GOD! I COULD LOSE MYSELF IN THE INTENSITY OF THE MOMENT, FORGETTING COMPLETELY THE HUMILIATING PATH I'D TAKEN TO THIS PEAK OF SEXUAL INTENSITY. JUST AS A CRASHING ORGASM WAS INEVITABLE, I WATCHED IN HORROR AS MY HAND MOVED AWAY FROM MY COCK. INSTEAD OF STROKING MY COCK THROUGH THIS INTENSE ORGASM, I WAS LEAVING MY COCK FLAILING IN THE AIR SO THAT I COULD PUT BOTH HANDS ON MY FAKE BREASTS. WHAT A CRAPPY THING TO DO! MY COCK NEEDED TO BE STROKED THROUGH THIS ORGASM. I'M NOT SAYING THAT IT RUINED THE ORGASM. IN FACT, IT WAS INCREDIBLY INTENSE—AND INCREDIBLY PRODUCTIVE. I SHOT A HUGE QUANTITY OF CUM, DECORATING THE COUNTER TOP IN LONG STRINGS OF WHITE JUICE. AND I WAS LEFT SHUDDERING WITH PLEASURE. The intensity of my orgasm left me stunned. For a few minutes, I just leaned against the counter and tried to catch my breath. When my heart rate had subsided to a countable beat, I looked down at the cum I'd shot and felt a gratified smile cross my face. Of Two Minds My gratification quickly turned to craving. I bent down and brought my tongue to the counter to lap up my spunk. It tasted terrific. I'd tasted my own cum before. And, of course, I'd just had a big load from Dylan. But this time I could really savor it. It was salty and kind of tingly. I loved the texture—smooth and almost slimy, but not unpleasantly so. I rolled it around in my mouth to extend my pleasure. When I couldn't lap any more up with my tongue, I brought my lips to the counter to suck of what remained—knowing, but not caring, that I'd have to touch up my lipstick afterwards. THE PLEASURE WAS TAINTED ALMOST IMMEDIATELY. WITH GREAT DISGUST, I WATCHED AS MY BODY LEANED OVER THE COUNTER AND MY TONGUE STRETCHED OUT TO TASTE THE CUM. OH, I'D TASTED MY CUM BEFORE, BUT THIS WAS DIFFERENT. IT WASN'T A DAB FROM MY FINGER ONTO MY TONGUE JUST TO SEE WHAT IT TASTED LIKE. NO. I WAS LAPPING UP CUM LIKE A PUPPY LAPPING UP PABULUM. AND WHEN I COULDN'T GET ANY MORE WITH MY TONGUE, I FOUND MYSELF PUTTING MY LIPS TO THE COUNTER AND SUCKING UP THE REMNANTS. IT WAS DISGUSTING—SLIMY AND GOOEY. WHY I WAS SEEKING THIS OUT, I COULDN'T UNDERSTAND. When I was finished, I wiped my now soft and pliant cock with a wet rag to remove the remaining oil and tucked it neatly in my black lace panties. "Much better," I thought to myself. Now there was hardly a bulge visible. FINALLY THIS PARTICULAR HUMILIATION WAS OVER. I WIPED OFF MY COCK AND PUT IT BACK IN THE PANTIES I WAS WEARING. I THOUGHT THIS PARTICULAR PART OF THE EVENING'S EVENTS WAS OVER NOW. WHAT MORE WOULD I FIND MYSELF DOING, QUITE AGAINST MY WILL? I SOON GOT MY ANSWER. As I grabbed the bottle of warming lotion, I got a marvelous idea. I knew where the evening was headed. At least I knew where I wanted it to end. And seeing the lotion again gave me a great idea for how to help smooth things along. I dug through the drawer until I found this little bulb device the doctor had given me when I had an ear infection. Sticking the tip of it in the bottle of oil, I sucked up some of it, bent over, pulled my panties to the side, out of my crack, and squirted a nice load of the warming lotion into my ass. "Now," I thought, "I'm almost ready." I WAS RUMMAGING AROUND IN A DRAWER. FOR WHAT? I HAD NO IDEA. UNTIL I FINALLY PULLED OUT A DEVICE FOR IRRIGATING AN EAR. "WHAT WAS I PLANNING TO USE THAT FOR?" I WONDERED. I SOON FOUND OUT AS I WATCHED MYSELF FILL THE BULB WITH THE LOTION I'D BEEN USING TO WANK OFF AND, WITHOUT ANY HESITATION, SHOOT IT UP MY ASS. THIS DID NOT BODE WELL FOR THE EVENING'S EVENTS. I walked back into the bedroom, paying attention to how I walked so I could get better in my heels, and touched up my lipstick. Then I put on my black, silky blouse and my tight, and very short, red skirt. I WALKED BACK INTO THE BEDROOM. I WAS SURPRISED THAT I DID PRETTY WELL IN THE HEELS I WAS WEARING. IT WAS NOT A SKILL THAT I HAD EVER HOPED TO MASTER, BUT I WAS CERTAINLY GETTING BETTER AT IT, ESPECIALLY CONSIDERING THAT MY KNEES WERE STILL A LITTLE WOBBLY FROM WHACKING OFF. I WATCHED AS I PUT ON LIPSTICK AND THEN THE REST OF THE CLOTHES THAT RACHEL HAD PUT OUT FOR ME. I smoothed everything out, enjoying the silky feeling of the blouse and, even more, the sensuous curves under it. It felt wonderful; it felt right. I was ready to go and there was no reason to dither. I walked to the door, headed for a new exciting experience. I DID A LITTLE POSING IN FRONT OF THE MIRROR AND I GUESS WHOEVER WAS CONTROLLING MY BODY LIKED WHAT HE OR SHE SAW TO DECIDE IT WAS OKAY TO SHARE THE VIEW WITH RACHEL AND DYLAN. MY BODY HEADED FOR THE DOOR AND OUT TO THE LIVING ROOM. When I rounded the corner into the living room, Rachel and Dylan were sitting on the couch—not still, but again. I could see their dinner plates in the dining room. So, they'd had dinner while I'd been busy. I smiled as I thought that I'd had a little something to eat, too. They looked up at me and I could see the surprise and appreciation on their faces. Rachel looked proud and Dylan looked ... well, Dylan looked like guys looked when they saw a woman they wanted. I couldn't help smiling myself. I tried not to look smug, but I sure felt a little smug. I WALKED INTO THE LIVING ROOM AND SAW DYLAN AND RACHEL SITTING ON THE COUCH. THEY LOOKED UP AT ME AND THE LOOKS ON THEIR FACES MADE MY BLOOD BOIL. RACHEL HAD A CONDESCENDING, SMUG, SELF-SATISFIED LOOK ON HER FACE AND DYLAN ... THE ASSHOLE WAS LOOKING ME OVER LIKE I WAS A CHEAP WHORE WHO WAS HERE FOR HIS PLEASURE. IT WAS CLEAR THAT THEY WERE BOTH HUGELY ENJOYING MY HUMILIATION. RACHEL CONTROLLED ME AND DYLAN WAS GOING TO GET THE BENEFIT OF THAT CONTROL. THEY WERE BOTH FEELING VERY POWERFUL. WORSE ... THEY WERE RIGHT TO FEEL THAT WAY. "Come here, girl," said Rachel in a welcoming, girlfriend sort of way. It helped to put me at ease. WHEN RACHEL ORDERED ME TO COME OVER TO THE COUCH, THE TONE IN HER VOICE MADE MY BLOOD CURDLE. SHE KNEW WHERE SHE WAS FORCING ME TO GO AND, YET, SHE ISSUED HER ORDERS WITH A PLEASANT CHEERFUL TONE. I walked over as gracefully as I was able with only a few minutes of practice on my heels. I didn't want to overdo it. Sashaying too vigorously would look silly and might lead to an embarrassing fall. AS I WALKED OVER, I COULD TELL THAT I WAS TRYING TO MOVE MY HIPS LIKE A WOMAN. As I approached Dylan, he stood. I guess one of the perks of being woman is that men stand for you. As he watched me approach, I could see the appreciation, and the lust, in his eyes. I felt a rush of power, knowing that I could provoke such feelings in a man. DYLAN STOOD UP AS I APPROACHED. HE HAD A SMUG, SELF-SATISFIED SMIRK ON HIS FACE, KNOWING THAT HE'D BE HUMILIATING ME EVEN FURTHER IN FRONT OF MY WIFE. I WANTED TO KILL HIM—TO DESTROY HIM SOMEHOW—BUT I REALIZED THAT I WAS THE ONLY PERSON IN THIS SCENARIO WHO WAS COMPLETELY POWERLESS. WHAT WOULD HAPPEN WAS WHAT RACHEL AND DYLAN WANTED TO HAPPEN. I walked right up to him, invading what would normally be thought of as his personal space, but in the full knowledge that he wouldn't be offended. When I stood within arm reach, Dylan stunned me. He reached one hand around behind my back and pulled me to him. With the other, he tipped my chin toward him and then he kissed me. He kissed me passionately, like a man kisses a woman that he wants very much to make love with. I felt my pulse race and my knees buckle. I was, I guess, swooning, though I didn't recognize it as such at the time. I'd never fantasized about being kissed by a man—never really thought about it. Now I found that it was a uniquely satisfying experience. There was such passion in Dylan's kiss—such yearning—that I was overwhelmed. And I knew that I was both the cause, and the object, of his passion. At this moment, Dylan wanted nothing more than—nothing other than—me. I loved that feeling. Right now, I wanted nothing more than to please Dylan as completely as possible. THEN SOMETHING HAPPENED THAT WAS MORE DISTURBING—AT LEAST IN SOME WAYS—THAN ANYTHING SO FAR. AS I APPROACHED DYLAN, THE BASTARD PUT HIS HAND AROUND MY BACK AND PULLED ME TO HIM. HE PUT HIS OTHER HAND ON MY CHIN AND FORCED MY MOUTH TO HIS, KISSING ME DEEPLY. DESPITE MY BEST EFFORTS, I COULDN'T MANAGE TO MANIFEST MY DISGUST AT WHAT WAS HAPPENING. I FELT MY MOUTH OPEN TO HIS TONGUE, A SYMBOLIC INVITATION TO MORE. AND THE INVITATION WAS ACCEPTED. DYLAN'S TONGUE PRESSED INTO MY MOUTH OBSCENELY. HE WASN'T EXPRESSING PASSION; HE WAS EXPRESSING DOMINANCE. THAT WAS AS CLEAR TO ME AS COULD BE. I COULDN'T ARGUE WITH THE ASSERTION OF DOMINANCE. IT WAS CLEAR THAT DYLAN COULD DO WITH MY BODY AS HE PLEASED WITH NOT JUST COMPLIANCE BUT THE APPEARANCE OF ENTHUSIASTIC ENCOURAGEMENT FROM ME. I COULDN'T ARGUE WITH HIS DOMINANCE IN THE SITUATION, BUT I COULD SURE RESENT IT. When our passionate kiss finally broke—I don't really know how long it lasted—I struggled for a moment to catch my breath and regain my composure. Then I proceeded with my plan. FINALLY DYLAN PULLED HIS TONGUE OUT OF MY MOUTH AND LET ME GO. I WAS PANTING FOR BREATH AND TRYING, (WITHOUT SUCCESS, I THINK) TO AVOID THE APPEARANCE OF HAVING ENJOYED WHAT HAD JUST HAPPENED. I took Dylan by the hand and led him toward the bedroom. I was walking ahead of him down the hallway and trying my best not to wobble on my high heels and to provide a gentle and suggestive rocking of my hips. THEN I WAS LEADING DYLAN DOWN THE HALLWAY, TOWARD RACHEL'S AND MY BEDROOM. I COULD TELL THAT MY HIPS WERE SWAYING THE WAY THAT WOMEN'S DO WHEN THEY'RE TRYING TO ENTICE A MAN. DESPITE MY BEST EFFORTS, THOUGH, I COULDN'T STOP THEM. Rachel followed us to the bedroom. I had mixed feelings about that. I knew that Rachel had somehow made this all possible, and I was grateful to her for that. But, still, what was happening now felt much more intimate than what I'd done earlier on the couch. This wasn't just a blowjob. This was something more rare, more personal. Somehow I felt that Rachel, despite being the facilitator of this, was invading a private space. But I didn't control Rachel so I just put my misgivings out of my mind. THE PUPPET MASTER OF TODAY'S HUMILIATING SCENE, RACHEL, FOLLOWED US INTO THE BEDROOM. I GUESS SHE WAS EAGER TO SEE HOW MUCH HUMILIATION SHE HAD CAUSED ME—AS IF IT HADN'T BEEN ENOUGH ALREADY. I TRIED TO LOOK AT HER, HOPING THAT I COULD SOMEHOW CONVEY TO HER A PLEA FOR CLEMENCY. I'D SUFFERED MORE THAN ENOUGH. MAYBE IF SHE SAW THAT SHE WOULD RELENT. BUT MY EYES TURNED FROM RACHEL TOWARD DYLAN. I looked up at Dylan. I could feel my face flush and I knew that my eyes were dilated by desire. I think he was about to kiss me again, but I had other plans. I sank to my knees, next to the bed, and pressed my mouth against his crotch, blowing warm air through his pants. FOR A SECOND, I THOUGHT HE WAS GOING TO TRY TO KISS ME AGAIN, BUT BEFORE HE COULD DO IT, I FOUND MYSELF ON MY KNEES, NUZZLING MY MOUTH AGAINST HIS CROTCH. SHIT, TO ALL APPEARANCES, I WAS BEGGING FOR IT. THERE WAS NO OUTWARD SIGN OF MY INNER TORMENT. Dylan's crotch expanded and, again, I reveled in the ecstasy of controlling his desire. I pulled away and began undressing him, all the while watching the tent in his pants growing. When I pulled his pants down, his cock sprang up, pointing straight at my lips. WHEN I PULLED AWAY, I COULD SEE DYLAN'S CROTCH SWELLING OBSCENELY. I WATCHED AS MY HANDS PULLED DOWN HIS TROUSERS. HIS DICK WAS HARD AGAIN AND IT BOUNCED UP LIKE SOME SORT OF BOBBLEHEAD DOLL, COMING TO REST POINTING AT ME THREATENINGLY. Dylan stepped out of his pants and I was ready to get to work—though 'work' is hardly the right word. "Business or pleasure?" This was definitely the latter. HE KICKED HIS PANTS OFF AND STOOD THERE, ENJOYING HIS DOMINANCE AND CONTROL. HIS COCK WAS DEMANDING ATTENTION AND, UNFORTUNATELY, IN MY PRESENT PREDICAMENT, I WAS GOING TO GIVE IT TO HIM NO MATTER HOW DISTASTEFUL IT WAS TO ME. I leaned in to kiss and caress Dylan's hard shaft. As I did, I realized that something was quite different—different from the way it was this afternoon when I'd sucked Dylan off on the couch. That had been incredibly exciting. I recalled vividly the exhilaration I'd felt as I'd taken him in my mouth and worked his cock to a climax. I didn't want to take anything away from that experience. But this was distinctly different, and remarkably better. WHEN I FOUND MYSELF BEGINNING TO GO TO WORK ON DYLAN'S DICK, I WAS APPALLED TO FIND THAT I WAS GOING AT THIS WITH EVEN MORE APPARENT RELISH THAN I HAD EARLIER IN THE AFTERNOON. INDEED, TO ALL THE WORLD I LOOKED LIKE A COCK-STARVED WOMAN WHO WAS DESPERATE TO PLEASE THE COCK THAT WAS BEFORE HER. Perhaps the ritual of preparing myself for this, or maybe the clothes themselves, made the difference. I don't know. All I know is that now, I felt as if I really understood what it felt like to be a woman making love to a beautiful, hard cock. I WAS DOING EVERYTHING THAT I WOULD WANT A HOT WOMAN TO DO TO MY COCK, AND I WAS DOING IT WITH AN ENTHUSIASM THAT NO WOMAN HAD EVER SHOWN ME. IT OCCURRED TO ME THEN THAT I WAS BEHAVING AS A DREAM DATE. EVERYTHING I DID WAS AIMED AT DYLAN'S PLEASURE. ANYONE WATCHING WOULD THINK THAT ALL I WANTED TO DO WAS TO BE HIS COCK SLUT. I went at Dylan's cock with a passion, but it was a gentle, loving passion. I licked and kissed and sucked his cock, inhaling the heady aroma. I kissed his beautiful balls and took them in my mouth, very gently, feeling the soft, oblong shape with my tongue. AS HIS COCK SLID IN AND OUT OF MY MOUTH, I AGAIN WANTED TO THROW UP. WHERE WAS MY RETCHING REACTION? I WANTED TO THROW UP BUT MY BODY WAS SHOWING NO SIGNS OF IT. QUITE THE CONTRARY. I SUCKED WITH GUSTO AND TOOK HIS HAIRY BALL SACK IN MY MOUTH AS IF I ENJOYED THE FEEL OF IT. It was difficult to pull myself away from Dylan's hard cock. It was beautiful to look at and delicious to hold in my mouth. But I had other plans for that marvelous tool. FINALLY I PULLED AWAY FROM THE SHAFT THAT WAS IMPALING MY MOUTH. I KNEW BETTER THAN TO BE RELIEVED. THERE WAS NO DOUBT WHERE THIS WAS GOING AND I WOULDN'T FEEL RELIEF UNTIL THE NIGHT WAS OVER. I stood up and stepped back from Dylan so he could see me as I pulled up skirt up, showing the tops of my stockings, my garters, and my lacey black panties. I watched with pleasure as his eyes took in the sight admiringly. The smile on his face was contagious. This was going to be amazing! WHEN I STOOD UP, I MOVED AWAY FROM DYLAN SLIGHTLY THEN PULLED UP MY SKIRT, EXPOSING MY HUMILIATION EVEN MORE FULLY. DYLAN COULD SEE MY DENUDED LEGS CROTCH AND THE LACY BLACK PANTIES THAT RACHEL HAD MADE ME WEAR. I SAW THE SMIRK OF DERISION ON HIS FACE. I WANTED TO SPIT IN HIS FACE BUT I COULD FEEL MY FACE SMILING BACK AT HIM, AS IF IN PLEASURE. I got on my hands and knees on the bed, offering my ass to Dylan. I felt him pull my panties to the side, exposing my virgin hole for his pleasure. A shiver of pleasure went through my body as I felt his thumb caress my rosebud lightly. I wanted him more than I could put into words. Fortunately, words were obviously unnecessary to get what I wanted. MY BODY ARRANGED ITSELF ON ITS HANDS AND KNEES ON THE EDGE OF THE BED, OFFERING MY ASSHOLE TO THIS RAPIST. THAT'S WHAT HE WAS, I REALIZED. HOWEVER MY BODY WAS ACTING, HE KNEW THAT THIS WAS SOME SORT OF COERCION OR MENTAL TRICK. HE KNEW THAT HE WAS TAKING ME AGAINST MY WILL. WHEN HE PUSHED MY PANTIES ASIDE AND TOUCHED MY ASSHOLE, I FELT A SHUDDER OF REVULSION GO THROUGH MY BODY. BUT I WAS DOING NOTHING TO STOP WHAT WAS ABOUT TO HAPPEN. My asshole was tingling with anticipation at the touch of something and now, when I felt Dylan's hands on each of my hips, there was no doubt what was caressing my sphincter. Dylan was running his hard cock gently through my crack, causing waves of pleasure each time the helmet caressed my asshole. I knew he was teasing me and it caused me considerable pleasure to realize that he was being teased just as much by this foreplay. DYLAN MOVED HIS HANDS TO MY HIPS AND HELD THEM TIGHTLY, SHOWING HIS DOMINANCE AND CONTROL OF THE SITUATION, AND OF ME. HE RAN HIS DICK BETWEEN MY OPENED BUTT CHEEKS, TOYING WITH HIS PREY LIKE A CAT WITH A MOUSE. HE DIDN'T NEED TO HURRY. HE WAS COMPLETELY IN CONTROL AND HE COULD DRAG MY HUMILIATION OUT AS LONG AS HE WANTED. THERE WAS NOTHING I COULD DO ABOUT IT AND HE KNEW THAT. As he worked his cock back and forth in my opened crack, I felt myself getting wet. It was just a bit of the lubricating oil leaking out in response to his ministrations, but it felt to me as if I was lubricating in anticipation of his entering me—of his making love to me. IT FELT AS IF I WAS GETTING SLIPPERY AND I WONDERED WHETHER DYLAN HAD ADDED SOME LUBRICANT. THEN I REALIZED THAT IT WAS JUST SOME OF THE LUBRICANT LEAKING. I COULDN'T SEE DYLAN'S FACE, BUT I'LL BET HE LIKED PRETENDING THAT HE WAS SO DESIRABLE THAT HE'D TURNED ME ON ENOUGH TO LUBRICATE FOR HIM. There was a pause in the action—too long for my taste. Was Dylan teasing me? Did he want to make me plead for him to fuck me? Maybe he just wanted to show me how much I needed his cock in my ass. If so, it was working. I felt a yearning stronger than I'd ever experienced. I think I moaned, and I know I pushed my ass back, offering it to him even more insistently. DYLAN PULLED AWAY FROM ME AND, FOR JUST A BLESSED MINUTE, THERE SEEMED TO BE NOTHING HAPPENING. I WASN'T NAIVE ENOUGH TO THINK THAT I WAS GOING TO BE SPARED, BUT I WAS GRATEFUL FOR A SHORT BREAK. UNFORTUNATELY, MY BODY WAS SHOWING EVERY SIGN OF DESIRE FOR THE ACTION TO RESUME. ALREADY ON MY HANDS AND KNEES LIKE A BITCH IN HEAT, NEEDING A COCK TO FILL HER, I FELT MYSELF PUSH BACK EVEN FURTHER, AS IF INVITING DYLAN TO TAKE MY ASS. I felt him line up his stiff shaft with my ass and begin to press against my tight opening. I wondered whether it would hurt as my virgin asshole was penetrated for the first time. But I wanted this more than anything and it didn't hurt now so I pushed back, urging him to give me his cock. THEN I FELT A DULL PRESSURE AGAINST MY ANUS. DYLAN HAD LINED HIMSELF UP AND WAS READY TO IMPALE ME. HE WASN'T BEING VIOLENT BUT, STILL, HE WAS VIOLATING ME AND HE KNEW IT. I would have pushed back onto his cock even if it had hurt like holy hell. That's how much I wanted it. But it didn't hurt—not really. I felt a twinge of pain as my ass initially adjusted to this new experience, but that was masked completely by the waves of pleasure coursing through my body. DESPITE MY OVERWHELMING DESIRE TO GET AWAY FROM DYLAN'S COCK I FELT MYSELF PUSHING BACK ON TO IT. THE BEHAVIOR OF MY BODY WAS NOT JUST THAT OF A WILLING PARTICIPANT; IT WAS THE BEHAVIOR OF AN EAGER AND ENTHUSIASTIC PARTICIPANT. Once Dylan's cock had opened me up fully, it slid in smoothly, thanks to the lubrication. The sensation of being filled by his hard cock was indescribable. I didn't realize that anything could feel like this. GOD, IT HURT HOLY HELL! IT WAS EXCRUCIATING. RACHEL HAD FINGERED MY ASSHOLE A FEW TIMES. THAT FELT FINE, ESPECIALLY WHEN SHE DID WHILE SHE SUCKED MY COCK. SHE KNEW WHERE MY PROSTATE WAS AND SHE COULD REALLY INTENSIFY MY ORGASM BY PRESSING ON IT AS I WAS ABOUT TO CUM. BUT I'D NEVER HAD ANYTHING BIG UP MY BUTT—NOT UNTIL NOW. AND IT FELT AS IF IT WAS SPLITTING ME OPEN. I can't describe the feeling really. Dylan's hands, holding my hips so tightly and controlling the motion of my body, felt so masterful and reassuring. And the feeling of his hard, hot cock sliding forcefully in and out of my asshole made my whole body tingle with pleasure. Sometimes he would stop, buried deeply in my rectum, holding me tightly to his loins, and let me feel the full volume of his shaft filling me completely. And sometimes he would pull completely out of my, provoking me to push back seeking the satisfaction of being filled by him. IT'S AN AWFUL FEELING FOR A HETEROSEXUAL GUY TO GET FUCKED IN THE ASS. THE PAIN WAS BAD, BUT THAT WAS FAR FROM THE WORST OF IT. THE HUMILIATION OF BEING USED AGAINST YOUR WILL FOR ANOTHER MAN'S PLEASURE IS FAR WORSE. AND MY BODY WAS BEING USED FOR DYLAN'S PLEASURE. HE WOULD TOY WITH ME: PRESSING ALL THE WAY INTO ME AND HOLDING ME TIGHTLY WITH HIS HANDS SO THAT I WOULD BE PAINFULLY AWARE OF HIS DOMINANCE AND CONTROL, THEN PULLING ALL THE WAY OUT SO THAT HE COULD RE-EXPERIENCE THE PLEASURE HE SEEMED TO FIND IN THE ACT OF VIOLATING ME BY ENTERING MY BODY WITHOUT CONSENT. It's hard to keep track of time when you're experiencing such an all-consuming pleasure, but I'd guess that Dylan fucked me like this for nearly ten minutes. Ten minutes of pure bliss. Then he pulled out. I pushed back, yearning to feel him inside me again. THIS SEEMED TO GO ON FOREVER. SHIT! COULDN'T THIS GUY GET HIS ROCKS OFF AND LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE TO RECOVER? IT WAS LIKE AN EXTENDED TRIP TO HELL. BUT DYLAN OBVIOUSLY LIKED IT. HE POUNDED MY ASS, WITH NO SIGNS OF STOPPING FOR PROBABLY TEN MINUTES.