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On a Slippery Slope Ch. 01

By: mindventure



It has been six weeks since I broke up with my boyfriend. I don't miss him but I miss the sex. Not his brand of sex, just sex in general. I have several excellent toys and I put them to good use, but I need something more than simple mechanical stimulation. I want excitement and a human cock inside me.

One of the reasons I ditched him was his refusal to experiment. I love to try new things, to act out fantasies, to talk dirty during sex. He was too much of a prude. He was competent enough at simple fucking, but beyond that he was pretty boring.

I am horny enough to begin looking around for a suitable partner. There is the computer subcontractor guy at work who has been showing some interest in me for the past couple of weeks. He's cute, but I've always been leery of dating people from work. I haven't ruled him out completely because his company services several businesses in our complex and I only see him once or twice each week.

Renewing my lapsed gym membership provides another opportunity, but that has its limitations too. About half the guys in the gym are raging narcissists, focused solely on their own bodies. Another ten percent are gay, and a lot of what's left over is comprised of married guys on the make. Still, I keep my eyes open.

A couple of weeks go by without much happening one way or another. I follow my usual routine; work, an hour at the gym, dinner in my apartment by myself, a little TV, and maybe a workout with one of my vibrators if I feel the urge. On weekends, my best friend Angie and I get together when she is between boyfriends. Other than my friendship with her, I am in a rut.

Finally, something happens that captures my imagination. I stumble onto a website that has a section where people can post erotic stories for anyone to read. I have no intention of writing stories, but I enjoy reading the work of others, some of which is very well done.

I have been fascinated by mild bondage since I first began having sex, often fantasizing about a mysterious man restraining me in some creative way and then fucking me senseless. It took a long time for me to work up the courage to suggest such a thing to my boyfriend, but I eventually took the leap. Dropping hints didn't work, so I finally just had to come out and ask him to tie me to the bed and fuck me. He was horrified.

"What kind of pervert are you?" he yelled.

I felt my face flush with embarrassment, shame, and anger. My voice was shaking when I was finally able to respond.

"As of this instant, I'm a single pervert. Get the fuck out of my house. Get out of my life. And stay out!" That was the end of him.

Before long, I am spending the majority of my free time on the site, prowling around in the category that caters to bondage. I quickly discover I have no interest in the 'master, slave, and sir' scenarios. I'm not into pain, so nothing is ever going to get clipped to my nipples. Bullwhips are out of the question and I am not about to allow anyone to stuff a gag in my mouth. I am much more attracted to the simple 'blindfold, restrain, and fuck' genre. I also find that I have an interest in fucking machines if bondage is also involved. There are hundreds of such stories on the site and I print copies of my favorites to read later in bed with my vibrators. It's not a bad compromise until I can find a new boyfriend who won't mind a little adventure.

And then one night after dinner my laptop crashes while I am in the middle of a particularly arousing story on the site. I'm no computer whiz by any stretch of the imagination, and I'm probably the last woman on the planet under the age of thirty-five who doesn't own a smart phone or a tablet. I can't access the site from my computer at work, so I need to get mine fixed, and soon. It is my only link to the site that is rapidly becoming an addiction.

It is a little after seven when the damned thing dies. I know the computer store where I bought the laptop stays open until nine and they have a technical group that does repairs. I snatch up the machine, grab my purse, and bolt out the door.

On the way over, I have an anxious moment or two thinking about what might be on my computer that could prove embarrassing or pose a security risk if the tech guys start poking around where they aren't welcome. I save all the stories I copy from the website but keep them in a folder marked 'Recipes.' I keep no financial records on the drive. I am sloppy about clearing my browsing history, but decide the odds are pretty slim that anyone will recognize the address of that site among the hundreds I've visited. I decide to worry about something else; like how long I will be without my computer.

There is no one at the tech counter when I arrive. After waiting for what seems like an eternity, a door opens and the computer guy from work walks into the area carrying a desktop console.

"Be with you in a minute," he says, without so much as a glance in my direction.

"No rush," I lie.

Finally he finishes what he is doing and looks over at me.

"Carla? Hi, how are you doing?"

"Well, what do you know? Brian Devlin. Moonlighting?"

"Yep. I have expensive habits to support. What can I do for you?"

"My laptop has given up the ghost. Can you fix it tonight," I ask, hoping I don't sound too desperate.

"I doubt it. I can run a quick diagnostic check but you'll probably have to leave it for a day or two."

"Two days?" Shit.

"Let's fire it up and see if it's something simple."

It isn't something simple.

"I'm sorry," he says, "but your operating system is not responding."

"Tell me about it," I moan.

"Look," he says. "I'll work on it until closing time. Maybe I can tell you more at work tomorrow. I have to finish up some items in your offices in the morning, so I'll come see you."

"Thanks Brian. I appreciate your help. See you tomorrow," I say, hoping I don't look as dejected as I feel.

"Goodnight Carla. Hopefully it won't be too serious."

****

Brian is waiting for me when I stop by the lunchroom for coffee before heading to my office.

"Bad news, I'm afraid. Your drive is shot. It has to be replaced."

"Okay, so what's a new drive going to cost me?"

"Not much, and we can probably recover some of your files for you. If you'll authorize the repair, it should be ready by closing time tonight. If I can't get to it, one of the other two techs will take care of it."

"Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you," I exclaim, thinking I will still have time later tonight to see what new bondage stories I might have missed while my laptop was off line. "I'll be there before closing time."

I go a little early and am pleased to find that the repair is complete. Brian tells me he recovered most of my files and everything is working fine. I pay a modest sum for everything and head home.

A month goes by with no major breaks in my routine. I spend a lot of time browsing the bondage section of the site, learning quite a bit about various ways to restrain a woman and provide her and her partner with a lot of pleasure. I keep fantasizing about someone doing that stuff to me.

A couple more weeks go by and then things begin to change. I stop to pick up groceries on the way home from the gym one evening. When I arrive at my apartment, I extract the mail from my box in the hallway and stuff it into one of the grocery bags. Pinning the two bags against the wall with one arm and my hip, I manage to get the door open without dropping everything.

Placing the bags on my dining table, I toss the mail onto the counter by the stove and put the groceries away. After taking a quick shower to remove the workout residue, I forget about the mail until dinnertime. Frozen Pizza. Yum yum.

While the microwave is working its magic, I turn to the mail. Half is junk that goes immediately into the trash. The bills I set aside until the weekend. Friday is payday. One letter remains.

There is no return address but the postmark is local. My name and address are hand-printed in block letters on the front. The envelope is made of high quality buff-colored paper. A notecard of equally high quality is inside. Puzzled, I pull it free. A single sentence, hand printed in capital letters, is centered in the card. 'I KNOW WHAT YOU WANT' it reads.

I examine the other side of the card. Nothing. And there is nothing else inside the envelope.

Frowning, I toss the whole business into the trash alongside the junk mail and the pizza box. Someone's idea of a joke, I guess. Thinking better of it, I retrieve the card and toss it into a little basket I use to store bits of paper, business cards, and what have you. It might be important someday.

I spend a half hour skimming through the older bondage stories on the site, searching for the type I find appealing. I see what looks like a perfect story that was posted years earlier. I save a copy in my 'Recipe' folder and send the file to the printer for use later that night with one of my vibrators, probably the large phallic one that was supposedly molded from a famous porn star's cock and balls.

Two days later I receive a second envelope in the mail; same local postmark, same high quality paper, no return address. 'I CAN GIVE YOU WHAT YOU WANT' is printed on the card inside. Now I am creeped out and pissed off at the same time. Who is this asshole and what makes him, or maybe her, think they have a clue about what I want? I toss the card into the little basket with the other one and throw the envelope out with the day's collection of junk mail.

A week goes by and I am still thinking the whole thing is some sort of bad joke. There is nothing more in the mail. Perhaps the perpetrator has grown tired of the game.

I work late on Friday and miss happy hour with the crowd from work. Feeling out of sorts, I pick up some deli fare for dinner and head home. My mailbox is crammed full of junk as usual. As I pull it free, a single legal-sized envelope falls to the floor of the hallway, face down. I pick it up and flip it over. My name and address are printed exactly the same as the earlier letters but this envelope is clearly thicker.

I step inside my entryway and lock the door. Dropping all the mail on my end table except the letter, I rip it open. Several folded sheets of paper are inside. I nearly faint when I realize I am holding a copy of the last story I printed from the website. I start to hyperventilate and lower my body into a chair to keep my knees from buckling.

This changes everything. Someone has access to my laptop. I am being hacked from outside or someone from the store did something to my computer that allows them to spy on my on-line activities. Or maybe someone is able to gain entrance to my apartment while I am at work and prowl around inside the machine. Brian Devlin and his two colleagues are the most likely candidates in the first case, while almost anyone could be involved if it were the other and they have access to a key.

I take a few deep breaths to calm down. Suddenly feeling very vulnerable, I run around my apartment pulling blinds and shutting curtains. I feel a little better when everything is closed up so I mix myself a martini and sit down to collect my thoughts.

The only people who have a key to my apartment are my parents, Angie, and the building superintendent. I rule them all out; my parents for obvious reasons and Angie would never do such a thing. I have lived here for five years and Mr. Johnson, the building super, is a friend. He is sixty-eight years old and a retired family law judge. There is no way he can be involved in something like this, so I discard the idea that my intruder came in through the front door. But just to be safe, I'll ask Mr. Johnson to re-key my lock in the morning.

That leaves an outside job by some hacker or an inside job by one of the guys in the computer shop. I decide to take a closer look at Brian Devlin as a logical first step. I'm not sure how to approach him but I feel better having some sort of starting point.

As a last resort, I'll turn the whole mess over to the police. My older brother Tim is the Chief Deputy in the county, so I know I will get all the police cooperation I need. Too much, probably. I'll have to give up my laptop as evidence and I'm not all that happy with the idea of them digging around through my files, particularly my brother.

The martini calms my nerves so I sit down to eat dinner and call up my file of stories. I decide to cull through them and erase all but the very few that most closely follow my bondage fantasies. I have them all in printed form and can always access them again through the site, so it is no big loss. I end up retaining only three on my computer, the one I just received in the mail and two more that feature scenarios I find particularly arousing.

A second martini makes me sleepy so I call it a night, and then spend most of the weekend cleaning my apartment and reading stories on the site until time for Sunday dinner at my parent's house. My brother is there with his wife and we all have a pleasant time. I keep my troubles to myself.

Brian is nowhere to be found when I arrive at work on Monday morning, so I reach under my desk and yank a couple of cables loose from my desktop computer and then call for computer support.

Twenty minutes later Brian arrives. Three minutes after that the problem is fixed.

"The janitor must have caught them with his broom or something," I offer. "Thanks for fixing it."

"No problem, that's what they pay me for," he responds.

"Care for a cup of coffee?" I ask.

"Sure. I don't have any trouble calls at the moment and I don't start my next assignment until ten."

Brian follows me to the lunchroom and we each grab a cup.

"How's the laptop holding up?" he asks as we sit down.

"Everything seems to be fine," I respond. I have no idea how to lead him into a discussion about computer hacking, so I engage him in regular getting-to-know-you conversation. We talk for twenty minutes and I get absolutely no hint that he is anything other than what he seems to be. He comes across as a regular guy. I find out he is in the National Guard, that he has a library card, that he likes Mexican food, movies and motorcycles, and he drives a Camaro. Not much help.

His phone chirps, ending our break. "Trouble call," he says. "Gotta go. It's been nice talking to you, Carla. Thanks for the coffee."

My workday turns out to be so busy that I almost forget about my stalker, or whatever he is. I arrive home a little after six and retrieve my mail, fully expecting another surprise but finding nothing unusual.

Tuesday's mail also has nothing of interest. Ditto for Wednesday. That's when I realize that I am disappointed. Obviously I need to get a life.

Thursday's mail brings everything back into sharp focus. 'I WILL GIVE YOU EXACTLY WHAT YOU WANT' is printed on the card.

On Friday I receive a copy of the second story I had retained in my computer file and I am becoming intrigued. Who is this guy?

Saturday's mail contains a copy of the third story and I am suddenly beside myself with curiosity, and perhaps a little something else.

Sunday is a drag. No mail delivery. Dinner with my family is the only thing that keeps me from going insane. Angie is there. Angie spends almost as much time with my parents as I do. Not only do we work together, but we've been best friends since the seventh grade.

Angela Molinari is the youngest of seven children and the only girl. Her parents were killed in an accident the year before we met. She was raised by her oldest brother, now a local lawyer, with a lot of help from my folks. Her two youngest brothers became catholic priests, but soon defected to the Episcopalian church when they realized they like pussy too much. Both are now married and have a couple of kids. The three middle brothers are non-violent petty criminals. Tim says the cops generally leave them alone because the sheriff and his deputies enjoy Cuban cigars, untaxed booze, and the occasional bet on sporting events, all of which are frowned upon by the state in which we live.

I think Monday will never arrive, but it finally comes through for me. Now all I have to do is get through the day so I can check my mailbox.

Another small envelope this time. The only thing written on the card is a phone number. I sit staring at the card for an eternity and then make a decision. Grabbing my purse, I head out the door to buy a throwaway phone. There is no way I'll call that number from my own cell phone.

Unable to wait until I get home, I dial the number from my car and get a recording.

"It is time for us to take the next step," a voice says. It has a slight mechanical note to it, like maybe a synthesizer or something is being used to disguise my stalker's voice. "In tomorrow's mail you will receive explicit instructions. Follow them to the letter."

And then the call ends. I can't believe what I just heard so I redial the number. After twenty rings I give up and terminate the call. A second try thirty minutes later produces the same result.

Now I am a complete wreck. I stop to eat at a fast food place on the way home, barely able to choke down a cheeseburger, fries, and a Coke. I know I am now on a slippery slope and I had better back out now or lose my footing entirely. Whoever he is, he knows my fantasies and has essentially promised to make them come true. By the time I get home I am so aroused I head straight for my bedroom. I select one of my three stories and read it slowly, employing a favorite vibrator to bring myself to a spectacular orgasm. Exhausted, I finally slip into a fitful sleep.

I am lucky not to get fired on Tuesday. My mind is a thousand miles from work. I go home in a daze and yank open my mailbox. The letter is inside.

Trembling with anticipation, I tear open the envelope as soon as I get inside my apartment.

"Be at the address below at exactly seven tomorrow night. Dress appropriately. When you arrive, the door will be unlocked. Open the door and stop in the entryway. Do not masturbate tonight," is all it says. My knees nearly buckle. I lower myself into a chair and try to get control of my breathing.

The house number means nothing to me but the street name does. It's only three blocks over from my apartment complex. Walking distance perhaps?

The rest of the evening is a blur. I know I will be worthless at work tomorrow so I decide to call in sick in the morning. After my performance today, the boss will have no trouble believing there is something wrong with me.

But first I have to get through tonight. Food is out of the question. Alcohol isn't. I mix a pitcher of martinis, intending to drink the whole thing, but later decide I don't need a hangover in the morning. So I limit myself to two drinks, defy my stalker, and give myself two sensational orgasms before falling asleep.

As planned, I call in sick. My boss is solicitous, asking if there is anything she can do for me. I assure her that I will be back to full capacity by Thursday morning. Then I jump in my car and make a quick reconnaissance pass at the address I was given. It is a small, non-descript house in a neighborhood of small non-descript houses. As I had hoped, it is within easy walking distance. I don't want my car to be seen parked anywhere near the place.

I spend the day thinking about what is likely to happen tonight. He has all three stories. Each is a different scenario that conforms to my fairly simple bondage fantasies. My best guess is that he will choose one of the stories and bring some of its elements to life. I am both frightened and thrilled.

Then I begin to worry about my body. I take off my clothes and examine myself in the full-length mirror. I know I have a good body but I look for flaws anyway. My breasts are high and firm with prominent nipples. I cup one in each hand and pronounce them adequate. My hips are slender, my waist is small, and my legs are elegant and perfectly shaped. They are my best feature.


On a Slippery Slope Ch. 01



Remaining naked for more than an hour, I check and recheck my body in the mirror, wondering what is wrong with my brain.

I have one moment of clarity early in the afternoon. While I am examining myself in the mirror for the umpteenth time, I give myself a lecture.

"Carla Jameson, you are playing a foolish, dangerous game. Your safety is at risk. Maybe even your life. Ignore the note and stay home tonight."

The figure in the mirror gives me a pensive look and then responds. "I know it's foolish and I know it's dangerous, and I'm going to do it anyway."

I spite of the mirror lady's response, I take time to gather the cards, notes, and story copies I have received in the mail. Attaching them to a note of explanation, I stuff them into a large manila envelope, seal the flap, and write 'For Deputy Tim Jameson' on the front. If I fail to show up for work tomorrow, my boss will check on me. When I don't answer the door, she will track down Mr. Johnson and set everything in motion. I prop the envelope up on my dresser.

I begin to worry about the command to dress appropriately. Since the probable outcome tonight is that I will be blindfolded, tied up, and fucked, underwear seems superfluous. But I don't know if I will be required to undress or if my stalker will remove my clothing. I finally choose a dress that will make my body accessible. I have a sexy little number that buttons in front from neck to hemline. It falls only to mid-thigh and displays an enticing amount of cleavage. 

Shoes are next on my list. I probably own fifty pair, but I know exactly which ones I'll wear. They have three-inch heels with small straps that crisscross the toe. A single strap circles the heel. I think they showcase my legs perfectly.

I am still naked and I want to masturbate. I have been aroused for hours and I still have hours to wait. It is only four o'clock. But that won't do. Last night was one thing, but today I don't want to take the edge off my desire for sex.

I have been lubricating off and on all day. If this keeps up, I might be dry as a bone by tonight. That worries me so I drink lots of water, trying to stay hydrated, hoping it will help.

I take a shower, carefully shaving my legs and underarms to avoid nicks. I touch up the little landing strip above my pussy. It is all that remains of my pubic hair.

I don't expect anal sex. None occurs in my stories but a butt plug is mentioned in one of them. I don't understand its purpose, but I know where it goes so I take a precautionary enema and then shower for the second time.

I had only yogurt and dry toast at noon but I brush my teeth for the fifth time anyway. I can't possibly get any cleaner.

I examine my body once again in the mirror, still searching for blemishes. I know there aren't any but I check anyway. I am a nervous wreck.

I look at the clock for the thousandth time. Thank God! Finally, it's six-fifteen and time to get dressed. Changing my mind about underwear for some reason, I put on a black lacy bra that hooks in the front and a pair of matching panties. Ten buttons later, my dress is in place. I slip on the shoes and examine myself one final time in the mirror. The butterflies in my stomach are now in full flight, but I approve of what I see. I know I am a pretty woman. My lustrous curly shoulder-length blonde hair is complemented nicely by the colors in my dress. I am certain my stalker will approve.

With a final glance in the mirror, I add a little lip gloss and a touch of mascara. I dab a little perfume in all the right places and send a shot of matching spray up under my dress between my thighs. Deliberately leaving my purse behind in the apartment, I lock the door behind me and put a spare key on the molding above the doorway.

****

My butterflies get worse as I near the house. When it finally comes into view, I almost turn around and go back home. Only the uncontrollable curiosity about what is going to happen tonight keeps me from doing so.

I arrive at the door and follow instructions, stopping in the entryway. Glancing about, I spot a camera and a speaker mounted high on the wall.

"Good evening Carla," says a disembodied voice, the same one I heard on the telephone. "I'm glad you chose to be here tonight. Before we start, there are a few things you need to understand. First of all, you are here by your own free will. You are not a prisoner. You may leave anytime you wish. Nothing will happen to you tonight that you don't want to happen. You must choose a safe word. If at any time you want to stop, say the word clearly and everything will stop immediately."

I know a little about safe words from the stories on the website. I've already given this some thought, so I have a word in mind.

"Avast," I say with a giggle. My father is an avid sailor and I've heard him use the word a time or two. I know that it means 'stop.'

"Avast it is," says The Voice with a chuckle of his own that makes me pleased with my own cleverness. "Do you have any questions?"

"No," I lie. I only have about a thousand of them.

"Any requirements?"

"Just one," I reply, "use a condom."

"Agreed. Did you masturbate last night?"

"No," I lie again.

"Good. Now enter the room to your right and close the door behind you."

The room is very plain. Highly polished hardwood floors are sharply contrasted by stark white walls. A king-sized bed is in the center of the room. There is no headboard or footboard. The mattress is covered only by a fitted sheet. Both sheet and mattress have been modified to allow two ends of a wide belt to emerge from slits a foot or so apart in the middle of the bed. There are no pillows.

Two slings are suspended from an eyebolt in the ceiling; a spreader bar about three feet long holds them separated. A pair of handcuffs is attached to chains that lead somewhere underneath the bed. All the restraints are nicely padded with a fleece-like material. There is no other furniture in the room.

The walls are unadorned except for a cat 'o nine tails with silken ropes that hangs from a hook near the bed and a sleeping mask on a hook just below that.

Each of the four walls supports a small pencil spotlight that illuminates the bed. I can see a camera and a speaker mounted in each corner of the room high up near the ceiling. Exposed cabling is bundled together near the floor and runs under the door, giving the installations a temporary flavor. My stalker has gone to considerable effort on my behalf. Many of the elements in the first story are present.

Just the sight of the bed and its restraints causes me to go weak in the knees and I start lubricating heavily. I am staring at the place where I will soon be constrained and fucked. It is almost more than I can bear. I hope I don't start dripping on the shiny floors.

"Remove your clothing please," says The Voice.

My heart feels like it is going to leap out of my chest as I perch on the side of the bed and slowly remove my heels. Crossing the room, I place them on the floor near one of the walls. I don't want to trip over them if I am forced to move around the room blindfolded. I decide to make a show of disrobing. This isn't just his game, it is mine too.

I take my time with the ten little cloth-covered buttons, releasing them one by one and pulling my dress open incrementally as I do so. Finally, I slip the dress off my shoulders, hold it off to one side, and let it float to the floor.

Unhooking my bra, I free my breasts and toss it on top of my dress. I am pleased to note that they haven't started to sag since this afternoon. I take a long time easing my panties down over my legs, and then step out of them slowly. I leave them where they are. There is no graceful way to retrieve them.

The Voice remains silent. I hope he is pleased with what he sees. Deliberately not looking at the cameras, I stroll over to the bed, intent on examining my restraints more closely. The slings are obviously for my legs. Each is fitted with a clasp that will tighten the slings once my calves rest inside. The purpose of the spreader bar is readily apparent.

The belt in the center of the bed is clearly designed to hold my midsection tightly down against the mattress. Velcro straps will keep everything in place.

Each handcuff has a plastic cylinder near where my wrists will be. I don't understand their purpose but they don't look ominous. The cuffs will hold my arms out to the side rather than above my head, for which I am grateful. I will have some freedom of hand movement but not enough to interfere with my stalker's plans.

I walk over to the cat 'o nine tails and the mask. The silken ropes have knots tied in the end. They are soft to the touch but will hurt if the implement is swung with any force. Avast, I reminded myself, is the safe word. I remove the mask from its hook and walk slowly over to the bed, hoping we will get started soon.

"It is time to begin," says The Voice, apparently reading my mind. "Lie down in the center of the bed."

I obey.

"Place your legs in the slings and fasten the belt across your stomach. Make sure the belt is tight."

I give some thought to cheating a bit with the belt to give myself a little wiggle room, so to speak, but then discard the idea. I am here to be constrained so I fasten the belt tightly as instructed.

"Now put on the mask."

I do as directed, making certain that I cannot see anything. I sense that if I get a glimpse of my stalker this will all end. Perhaps badly. That I do not want.

Moments later the door opens and I sense, rather than hear, his presence in the room. I suspect he is naked. I wonder if he already has an erection. I know he won't speak because he no longer has the ability to disguise his voice. My heart resumes its frantic beat, my breathing accelerates, and I start lubricating again.

He grasps one of my wrists, and then the other, attaching the cuffs. Instinctively I test them. They are tight but they don't hurt or cut off my circulation. I relax my arms.

I feel him adjust the tightness of the slings around my legs and then raise them a little higher to keep the spreader bar out of his way when he decides to fuck me. I hope he does it soon. I'm already about to go out of my mind.

Suddenly I feel the silken ropes of the cat 'o nine tails caress my body; first my face, then my breasts, and then the inside of my thighs. A delicious tingle bubbles up from deep inside me and races across my skin. He continues this for several minutes, spending most of that time between my legs. I can't move much, but I can rock my pelvis up slightly to tell him I want more. I begin to whimper in frustration. He ignores my plea. I hope he doesn't strike me with the cat. I remember the safe word.

Finally he stops and I feel his weight on the bed. Thank God he's going to fuck me now. I've never been so ready in my life. I wonder if he has a large cock. But I'll have to wait to find out because I feel his head between my thighs, and that's okay with me. I love oral sex and I know I'll cum quickly if he tongues my clit.

He doesn't. He tongues everything else instead, making me cry out sharply as his tongue runs up and down my slit and then enters my pussy. He has an arm wrapped around one of my thighs and he uses his other hand to hold the lips of my pussy open. For several minutes his tongue darts all over but carefully avoids direct contact with my clit. It doesn't matter. I cum in a rush, bucking against the belt that has me immobilized. I cry out continuously as orgasmic spasms wrack my body.

He gives me no time to rest. Slipping his fingers into my pussy, he sucks my clitoris into his mouth and begins to massage it directly with his tongue. It drives me wild. I am instantly on my way to another crushing orgasm. As I near the top of my short climb, he eases a pussy-lubricated finger into my ass. No one has ever done that to me before at exactly the right moment. I go over the edge with a piercing shriek that I can hear echoing off the bare walls of the room.

If he doesn't stop, I will probably faint. Mercifully, he pauses, allowing me to come down slowly. I lie there gasping for breath as the aftershocks of my orgasm course through my body. I can't believe what's happening to me. He hasn't even fucked me yet. That still lies in my future.

His weight shifts in the bed. I can feel his body heat next to my side and smell his expensive aftershave. Something by Calvin Klein maybe? It briefly flashes through my mind that the aftershave might be his undoing someday.

My stalker turns his attention to my breasts and sucks an alert nipple into his mouth. I moan with pleasure. I have sensitive breasts and they have always been an important part of my sexual response.

While my attention is diverted he slips two of his fingers back inside my pussy. Once again I rock my hips up as far as I can, trying to signal him to continue. I feel him curl his fingers up behind my pubic mound, searching for my G-spot. Under normal circumstances I would rotate my hips to help him find his mark. But I can't move so he's on his own. He finds it soon enough and is encouraged by my loud cry as he rakes his fingertips across the magic spot.

Within seconds I'm on my way. Between the stimulation to my G-spot and the attention he is paying to my breasts, my arousal rockets skyward. I hold off as long as I can, enjoying the sensation created by my approaching orgasm.

I am filling the small room with moans, yelps, and small high-pitched wails as he pushes me upwards and over the top. I shudder violently against my restraints, my body reacting perfectly to his efforts.

I have lost track of time. I lay there in a near-coma, my stalker finally allowing me to rest.

A little while later the bed moves again in response to shifting weight. I know he is positioning himself between my thighs. He is going to fuck me now. This is what I came here for. Everything that happened earlier was wonderful, but it was just foreplay as far as I am concerned.

I feel him moving the head of his cock, searching for the opening to my pussy. He finds it and enters me slowly. He is very large and I am very pleased.

He lowers his body closer to mine and slips his forearms under my shoulders to curl his fingers over my collar bones. And then he begins to fuck me using long slow strokes. It is the first real cock I've had inside me in months and it feels so good. There is none of the selfish urgency my ex-boyfriend usually displayed. I know my stalker is going to take his time.

I don't know how long he fucks me. I do know that he uses every means at his disposal to make it pleasurable for us both. Often changing the speed and power of his thrusts, he teases me with short quick strokes and long slow deep ones. He changes the angle of his thrusts constantly, slowly pushing me toward what I know is going to be the most spectacular orgasm I've ever experienced. I have never cum solely in response to vaginal stimulation, but I know it is going to happen this time. He is relentlessly driving me upward. I begin to understand that I am being properly fucked for the first time in my life.

Eventually he settles into a strong steady cadence, pounding his cock into me with shocking force. My sensitive nipples brush against his chest as they dance to the tempo he has established.

My orgasm seems to rise from the soles of my feet and then explodes deep inside my pussy. I am aware of a woman screaming nearby as my muscles clamp rhythmically around the shaft of his still thrusting cock. Is that me? Moments later he lets out a guttural cry and I feel his pulsing contractions.

He holds his body off mine with what must be great effort to avoid crushing me, but I want his weight on me. I want to hold him in my arms. The bondage is over and I need to feel his skin with my hands. It doesn't happen.

Surprising me, he presses his lips to mine. Kissing did not appear in the story so it was not part of my fantasy. He senses my hesitancy and pulls back. I regret my reaction, but luckily he tries once more. This time I respond hungrily, darting my hot little tongue into his mouth. The kiss lasts a long time, both of us enjoying the intimacy. I want the kiss to last forever.

It is not to be. He withdraws his cock and takes up his earlier position alongside me. I believe he is studying my body. I drift off into a light sleep. Sometime later, he leaves the bed and loosens the slings that are holding my legs in the air. I hear the door open and then shut.

I need to be released. I don't know where he is or what his intentions are. Just as I begin to feel a rising panic, I hear two loud clicks and my handcuffs spring open. Now I understand the purpose of the little plastic cylinders. I am now in the same state I was when he first entered the room. I pull the mask from my face and unstrap the belt at my waist. Pulling my legs free of the slings, I roll to the side of the bed. I know I don't have the strength to stand, so I lie still for a few minutes.

Finally I push myself to my feet near the side of the bed. I sway back and forth a little, slowly regaining my balance. I receive no instructions from The Voice. When I am certain I can walk, I cross the room and open the door, not caring that I am still naked and no longer blindfolded.

I start down the hallway in search of my stalker. I search everywhere. The room across the hall is empty. I find a small kitchen with a dinette that holds a microphone and a piece of electronic equipment that is probably the device he uses to disguise his voice. A split screen video display shows the output of the four cameras in the bondage room. A strange looking console sits beside it with small levers and knobs. I don't know what it does. The only other item in the kitchen is a small waste basket next to the table which contains an empty Coke can and a crumpled paper towel. The two remaining rooms in the back of the house are locked.

There is no cum oozing down the inside of my thighs, so I believe my stalker used a condom. I find the bathroom and sit on the throne like I usually do after sex. Within seconds I can confirm that he honored my requirement. I am grateful.

I return to the bondage room and get dressed slowly, still a little wobbly from everything that has happened to me. Taking a deep breath, I leave the little house and walk unsteadily back to my apartment. When I get inside, I am astonished to see my clock telling me that only an hour and a half has elapsed since I entered my stalker's house.

I try to mix a drink but my hands are shaking too much. It takes me three tries to finally assemble an acceptable martini. I sip it slowly, enjoying the way it calms me down. Suddenly famished, I make a tuna salad sandwich and wolf it down. I second martini relaxes me further. I'll go to bed in a little while.

I use the time to reflect on what happened to me tonight. I loved it. Everything exceeded my highest expectations. I wanted to be constrained and fucked. I got all that and more.

My stalker has awakened something primal in me. The genie is out of the bottle. I want more of him and what he has to offer. As I drag myself to bed, I resolve to keep this thing alive and to find out who he is. The last thing I see before I drift off to sleep is the envelope on my dresser. I will shred its contents tomorrow, knowing I no longer have any need for evidence.

****

To be continued...

I encourage readers to vote and comment. Constructive thoughts, suggestions, and criticisms are always appreciated.



On a Slippery Slope Ch. 02



I wake up to the sound of my alarm, leap out of bed like a kid, grab a quick shower and gobble down some toast. I dress in a hurry and snatch up the envelope. I'll shred it as soon as I get to my office. With my luck, Mr. Johnson will enter my apartment today, trying to hunt down some plumbing or electrical problem in the building, and find the damned thing. Then, thinking better of it, I hide it at the bottom of my underwear drawer.

I arrive at work earlier than usual and look around for Brian. He isn't here. It is important for me to see him in person, to detect any hint that he might be my stalker. I retreat to the lunchroom for a cup of coffee, trying to fight back my anxiety. If I have to, I'll sabotage my computer again to get his attention.

Just when I think I might burst into tears, I see him in the hallway.

"Hey Brian," I call, "want some coffee?"

"You bet," he replies with a smile. An innocent smile.

We spend the next ten minutes in idle conversation. I see nothing to indicate that he is the man who fucked me so thoroughly last night. He takes a seat across from me at the table, so I'm not close enough to get a whiff of his aftershave. And I have to get pretty close; my sense of smell is not very sharp.

As usual, his phone chirps and he dashes off on a trouble call. I am left sitting by myself with a half empty cup in my hand, dejected by his abrupt departure.

My boss is thrilled to see me and relieved to find me feeling well. I owe her big time because of my poor performance on Tuesday and my deceit yesterday. I spend the rest of the day making it up to her, busting my ass to catch up with my work and restore her faith in me. I get home around six and find nothing of interest in my mailbox. I know it's too early for things to heat up again, but I am disappointed nonetheless.

Friday's mail is a different story altogether. I find a padded envelope in the box and rush inside my apartment. Tearing the envelope apart, I retrieve a DVD in its plastic case. A sticky note is attached that reads, 'This is the only copy. You have my word.' I am thrilled, convinced there will be something on the video that will help me identify my stalker. I set it aside to view after dinner when I can give it my undivided attention.

It is nearly eight thirty when I crawl into bed with my laptop and insert the DVD into the drive. My excitement is nearly uncontrollable. I note that it has been exactly forty-eight hours since I returned from my stalker's house.

The video is a quality product; high definition with perfect reproduction of sound and excellent color rendition. My dress literally leaps off the screen as it has the only colors in the antiseptic room. But the video turns out to be a mixed blessing.

On the downside, it has been carefully edited. My stalker's face has been expunged like reporters do on TV to obscure someone's identity. He appears to be pretty close to Brian's size and his hair color matches, but I don't have enough information to rule him in, or out, as the primary suspect.

On the upside, my stalker has a nice body and I get to watch him do everything he did to me that night. The camera angles and zoom shots are perfect. Other than the actual sex acts he performed on me, watching myself being fucked is the biggest turn-on I've ever experienced. I am soon digging around in the nightstand for my favorite vibrator. I wonder if it's possible to wear out a DVD.

The video presents one more possibility. I have enough information about my stalker's appearance to compare his body type to the two other technicians at the computer store. If neither of them is a match, Brian will be my primary suspect.

****

It is now Saturday. The crowd from work had earlier agreed to meet late in the afternoon at a favorite sports bar. It is nice to get out socially with my friends. Angie's presence, as always, completes the gathering. She is wildly popular with everyone.

I fend off a drunk who has stationed himself at the end of the bar near the ladies room and tries to grope every woman who passes by. The second time he tries to grab my ass, an arm darts out from behind me to snatch the guy off his bar stool. I turn to see who my benefactor is. It's Brian and I am thrilled. I didn't expect to see him here. It is the first time we have ever been in the same room together outside of work. Maybe.

Brian says something to the jerk and he stumbles drunkenly out of the bar.

"Sorry about that Carla" he says. "Guys like that are a pain in the ass."

"Thanks for getting rid of him," I respond. "Let me buy you a drink as a reward."

"I believe I'll take you up on that," he replies with a grin. "A draft will do just fine."

I order two Stella drafts and we sit chatting at the bar for fifteen minutes or so. While we are talking, I lean in from time to time, trying to identify his aftershave. But it is too late in the day and his scent has faded. I also study his body as discreetly as possible, trying to memorize as much as I can for comparison with the video of my stalker.

"Care for another?" I ask as I finish my beer.

"Unfortunately, I have to run. I'm working at the computer store tonight," he informs me, "but thanks for this one. Maybe we can do it again sometime."

Goddammit! I think to myself.

"You're welcome and I'd love to. Have a nice weekend. See you next week," I say with a cheery smile that belies my suddenly grumpy attitude.

"Fuck it," I mutter under my breath and wave to my friends, all still having a blast, then head for home to sulk.

I'm in such a funk that I eat another frozen pizza, watch an old movie on TV, and then go to bed, in no mood to watch myself get screwed.

Somehow, I wake up refreshed the next morning. I go out for breakfast and linger over a second cup of coffee when I finish eating.

After replaying the past few days in my head, I reach a decision. I am going to play and replay the video as many times as necessary to gather as much information about my stalker as I can. Then I'm going to take a peek at the other two technicians at the computer store to see if I can eliminate them as suspects. Fortunately the store is open on Sundays.

My determination renewed, I return home and slip the DVD into my laptop. Doing my best to ignore the sex, I study my stalker intently. After a couple of run-throughs, I have a decent description written down on scratch paper.

I look up the dimensions of a king-sized bed on the internet. Then, using a ruler, I estimate that my stalker is six feet tall. He has light brown, close-cropped hair and broad shoulders. He is nicely muscled with a flat stomach, well developed pectorals, and impressive biceps.

I try not to look at his cock too often, but I employ the ruler trick and discover that he is larger than normal by a considerable margin, which confirms the conclusion I reached on Wednesday night when he entered me.

I have no trouble convincing myself that I am looking at Brian in the video, but I have never seen the other two technicians. Armed with a mental picture of my stalker, I head for the computer shop.

Entering the store, I head immediately for the software aisles where I can observe the repair counter from a distance. I stand there less than two minutes before the store manager walks up to me.

"Can I help you?" he asks.

"Just browsing for the moment," I reply. And then an idea pops into my head. "A while ago, Brian Devlin repaired my laptop."

"Is there a problem?" he asks.

"Not at all. He did a great job, but he mentioned that you have two other technicians who may have worked on my machine as well."

"That would be Zahir and Mason," he responds.

"Zahir?"

"He's from India. Quite the genius. He's not here today, but Mason is working if you need to speak to him."

I nearly pass out. One guy eliminated already. Nothing about my stalker suggests lineage from that part of the world.

"I'll browse a bit and then go thank Mason," I tell him, now wishing he'd go away.

"Well, take your time. Track me down if you need anything, and have a nice day."

"You too," I respond; now fairly itching to catch a glimpse of Mason.

My luck holds. A minute later the door in the back of the tech area opens and a short, prematurely balding young man comes out carrying a laptop. I stroll over toward the counter, looking at a variety of products until I get close enough to read his nametag. It says 'Mason' in big beautiful letters.

I can't get out of the store fast enough. I am elated but I'm not stupid. Either of those guys could still have been involved, hiding malware in my laptop on behalf of a third party, but I think it's unlikely. In all probability, I have narrowed my suspects down to Brian and some unknown outside hacker. If it is the latter, I have little recourse but to turn my laptop in for the sheriff's forensic computer jocks to go after the guy if I want to pursue the matter. That option doesn't sit well with me. I decide to put my money on Brian.

Feeling cheerful, I head to my parent's house for Sunday dinner. The usual crowd is there, including Angie. We have a nice time.

My mailbox is full when I get home Monday evening. I retrieve the pile and enter my apartment. There is one bill. The rest is junk. There is nothing from my stalker. Now I have to figure out how to survive until mail delivery tomorrow.

Tuesday's mail doesn't produce a damned thing, nor does the rest of the week. I slip back into a funk and stay there. I see Brian from time to time but we have little opportunity to talk. When I do see him, I study him closely and reinforce my conclusion that he is my stalker.

I begin to believe we have had our one and only encounter. The thought depresses me. I want to go back into that house. I have two more stories saved and they contain lots of different ways I can be constrained and fucked.

Another week goes by. I give up. It's Friday, but I am in such a bad mood that I wave off several invitations to attend happy hour with my co-workers. When I get home, I almost leave my mail in the box, but habit prevails and I pull out the few items that are inside.

I nearly faint when I spot the small envelope. My hands are shaking uncontrollably when I rip it open. The words on the card inside make my heart beat wildly in my chest.

"Tomorrow night at seven. Wear the same dress. Leave the bra and panties at home. Do not masturbate tonight. You know what to do when you get here. We will use the same safe word."

It suddenly dawns on me why it has taken so long for him to contact me. It obviously required much time and effort for him to prepare the bondage room for our first encounter. I now understand that it has taken this long to prepare for tomorrow night. He must have something really special in mind. I feel a delicious tingling between my legs and realize I am lubricating for the first time in days.

As before, I defy my stalker. At bedtime, I watch him use my body over and over, cumming repeatedly with the aid of my fingers, my vibrators, and the favored dildo.

****

I was a wreck the day of our first encounter, nerves dominating my feelings. Today is different. I don't need to start preparing myself until late afternoon so I spend my day cleaning house and running errands, all mindless activities that allow me to daydream about what will happen to me tonight.

There are many possibilities embodied in my two remaining stories. A fucking machine, a gynecological examining table, and a specially designed structure dominate my thoughts. The butt plug is also on my mind. I can hardly wait to find out what he has chosen for me.

At five thirty I begin getting ready, repeating the precautionary enema, showering, shaving my legs, trimming my landing strip, and rubbing a hydrating lotion into my skin. I do not bother to check my body for flaws; there are none.

Six thirty arrives. I don my dress and select the same shoes I wore the last time. Perfume, lip gloss, and a little mascara complete my preparations. At a quarter to seven I lock my apartment and depart for my rendezvous. There is a spring in my step and I have to fight the urge to hurry. His house comes into view and my heart begins to race. Moments later I am standing in the entryway, smiling brightly up into the camera lens.

"Welcome back, Carla," says The Voice. "Did you masturbate last night?"

"No," I reply, lying to him once again. It's none of his business. What I did last night will have no impact on my responses tonight.

"Excellent. Now go into the room on your left and shut the door behind you." The last time he sent me to the room on the right. That door is closed.

I enter a room that is just as austere as the one we used before. It has the same white walls, polished hardwood floors, cameras, speakers, and pencil spotlights. The Voice remains silent, allowing me time to study my surroundings.

The very center of the room is occupied by something I recognize immediately from one of the stories, but it is difficult to describe.

My brother used to ride a type of motorcycle he called a 'crotch rocket' because of its speed. It was a strange machine. He had to literally lie on top of the fuel tank and reach around the tank and down to grasp the handle bars. The foot pegs and shift lever were positioned in a manner that made him appear to be resting all his weight on his hands, stomach, and knees.

Brian told me he likes motorcycles, so a crotch rocket may have been the inspiration for the object in front of me. There are two roomy indentations, widely spaced, for my knees. Restraining straps dangle below each one. There is a cutout between the indentations that will provide room for my stalker to stand and fuck me from behind. The top of the device is arched over in the shape of a rainbow. Near the top of the arch is a generous indentation to accommodate my breasts. Just over the top is a hole with a padded rim for my face, much like a massage table. There are two handles on the far side of the arch, one on each side for me to grasp. Handcuffs dangle from ring bolts near each handle. The entire structure is heavily padded for comfort.

I know that when I get on the device, straps will secure my legs across the calves. My torso will be draped over the arch and the handcuffs will constrain my arms and hands, keeping me in position. I can use the handles if I wish but they are not part of the restraint system. My ass and pussy will be completely exposed and available for my stalker's use when he positions himself behind me.

A small table beside the arched device contains the cat 'o nine tails I enjoyed before, a tube of lubricant, some sort of mask that is probably a hood, and a butt plug. I have seen pictures of butt plugs on websites that specialize in sex toys, but this is my first exposure to the real thing.

I walk over to the table and pick it up. It is made from some sort of firm jelly. Six inches long, it tapers from a slim tip at the top down to wide section more than an inch in diameter. Just below the wide part is a wasp-waist indentation and then a flared base. I understand why it has that shape and I know where he is going to put it, but I have no idea how it is supposed to provide pleasure for him or for me. It is a totally passive device.

"Slowly remove your dress, please," says The Voice, "but keep your shoes on."

I prefer to be barefoot during sex, but he is calling the shots. I conclude that he wants me to look a little bit slutty when he straps me into the device he has built. I do as he asks, taking my time with the buttons and then dropping the garment to the floor.

"Please mount the structure to make sure the dimensions are correct."

So I give it a test ride. My body fits perfectly which gives more credence to the idea that Brian is my stalker. Whoever built this thing has clearly had time to study my body and make accurate estimates of shape and proportion. My breasts fill the indentation provided; the sensitive nipples barely brushing the surface inside. My face rests nicely in its niche. I can see the hardwood floor beneath the device. I am completely comfortable.

"Stand up please," directs The Voice, "and put on the hood."

I am leery of the hood for some reason, but I do as he commands. The hood is made of black felt. There is ample room for my hair. My eyes are completely covered but my mouth and nose are not. When the hood is in place, thick padded areas cover my ears. I am now deprived of two senses and immediately have an attack of vertigo. I yank the hood from my head.

"I understand," says The Voice. "It will take a few seconds to become accustomed to the hood, Please try again."

Reluctantly, I do as he says and this time I do not experience vertigo. After a few deep breaths, I know I can tolerate the hood.

"Good, good," he says, "now please mount the device."

I run one hand down the padding until I encounter the indentation for my breasts. Now oriented, I insert my knees, drape my body across the arch to grasp the handles, and begin lubricating heavily.

Because of the ear muffs in the hood, I do not know he is in the room until I feel him secure the straps across my legs. Seconds later the cuffs are snapped onto my wrists. I maintain a tight grip on the handles and know that I will continue to do so the entire time I am restrained on the device.

He wastes little time. I feel a delicious tingle as he moves the silken knots of the cat o' nine tails over my legs and back. He is soon concentrating his efforts on the insides of my thighs. I shiver with excitement. He continues for several minutes, then abruptly stops and begins to slide his fingers up and down my pussy, pausing from time to time to circle my clitoris. I moan with pleasure.

I have some freedom of movement so I rock my hips backward against his hand, encouraging him to finger fuck me. I love to be finger fucked and often do it to myself, but there is no substitute for a man who knows what he's doing. My stalker gets the message and eases a couple of fingers deep inside. I let out a soft cry.

He works his fingers like magic, and I am quickly on my way to a thunderous orgasm as he alternates his attention between my clitoris and the inside of my pussy. Suddenly he slips something into my ass. I'm pretty certain it's his thumb. With his middle two fingers in my pussy and his thumb probing my ass, he has me in what is crudely called 'the bowling ball grip' in a story I read on the website.

I don't care what it's called. I have never felt anything like this. I have very little anal experience but I am learning fast. I wiggle my ass as much as I can while he works his thumb in and out and increases the speed of his fingers in my pussy. I am now crying out continuously into the interior of the device. I don't know if he can hear me, so I lift my face out of the opening briefly and give a loud moan to let him know I like what's he's doing to me.

I feel him reach underneath my pussy with his other hand and slide his fingers up to begin caressing my clit. As he manipulates the delicate flesh, the pleasure is nearly unbearable. I scream into the hole as he increases the pressure on my clit, fucks my ass more forcefully with his thumb, and rapidly works his fingers round and round in my pussy.

I feverishly clutch the handles as my body shudders with wave after wave of orgasmic contractions. He does not let up. I am held in a continuous orgasmic state for what seems like an eternity. My screams continue as my pussy clamps rhythmically around his still-probing fingers.

Finally, mercifully, he slows his pace and allows me to come gently back down. I relax and let my body mold itself once again to the wonderful device he has created. When my breathing returns to something resembling normalcy, he withdraws his thumb and then his fingers. I hope he is not finished with me. I want him to fuck me.




On a Slippery Slope Ch. 02



He gently caresses the insides of my thighs for a minute or two and then pauses to kiss the small of my back. Seconds later I feel a different sensation as he eases something foreign into my ass. It must be the butt plug. I feel it stretch me wider as the increasing diameter of the shaft is pushed slowly but steadily inside. It begins to hurt a little, then a little more. Just as I start to think about using the safe word, the widest part of the plug slips past the ring of muscle and the pain is gone. The butt plug is now in position, but I still don't understand how I will derive any pleasure from its presence.

I feel my stalker step up behind me, his thighs pressing against the backs of my legs, and the tip of his large cock probing my slit. When he is ready, he pushes himself inside me with steady pressure and is soon buried to the hilt. His cock feels different than it did last time and I realize it is competing for space inside my body with the butt plug.

And then he begins to move. I immediately understand the purpose of the plug. As his cock is thrust in and out of my pussy, it disturbs the plug buried in my ass, causing it to move as well. The sensation is overwhelming; his cock moving in my pussy and the plug moving in my ass. I feel like I am being fucked in both places at once.

I pull my face up out of the hole and give a piercing wail. I have never experienced anything like this. I cum almost immediately but he keeps fucking me. I cum again. He maintains a steady pace and I forget how to count, no longer able to keep track of the nearly continuous string of orgasms. Finally I can no longer bear it. The pleasure is so intense it sets my nerves on fire. 

"Avast!" I sob, "Avast." My stalker immediately stops moving. I begin to cry as he pulls his cock out of my pussy. Seconds later I feel the butt plug being withdrawn. 

He strokes my hair with one hand and softly rubs my back with the other as I continue to cry for a few moments longer. I feel him ease the shoes off my feet.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, "I just couldn't take any more."

"That's okay," he whispers back, his mouth close to my covered ear. It is the only time he has spoken to me without disguising his voice. Because he is whispering, I barely hear him and can't determine if the voice belongs to Brian.

He releases my handcuffs and unstraps my legs. I am too weak to stand so he gently pulls my body away from the device and scoops me into his arms. I cling to his neck as he carries me to some other part of the house.

He places me on a bed. I hope he is not going to restrain me any more tonight, but I want him to fuck me. I soon realize that is what he has in mind when he positions himself alongside me and gathers my still-trembling body into his arms. I can't see him, but I can feel him and smell his intoxicating scent.

He kisses me and I respond, slipping my tongue into his mouth. I can feel his hard cock against my thigh. He spends a lot of time caressing my body with his hands and his tongue and I return the favor. Touching him feels so good. We are making love. A long time later I whisper in his ear.

"Now please."

He enters me immediately, welcomed by widely splayed legs and a willing pussy.

We do not last long. He quickly pushes me over the edge and I feel great pulsing contractions as he groans loudly in release. A long while later, he withdraws his cock and lies once again by my side, gently caressing my breasts.

I long to remove the hood, but I don't dare. I don't want to ruin everything. I still have one more story to act out. I am content to lie beside him.

Sometime later, I feel him leave the bed. I give him several minutes to do what he has to do and then peel the hood off my head. I lie there a while longer to give my eyes time to adjust to the light and then roll to the side of the bed. I am in the room where I had my first encounter a lifetime ago. The slings have been raised nearly to the ceiling. The strap and cuffs are gone, but the camera lenses stare back at me. The speakers remain silent.

Once again I go exploring. As I expect, he is gone. The kitchen looks just like it did the last time; same equipment, same waste basket containing an empty soda can and a crumpled paper towel. I use the bathroom and quickly verify that my stalker used a condom.

I re-enter the first room, slip my dress back on, and retrieve my shoes. Two minutes later, I lock the door behind me and walk unsteadily back to my apartment.

As before, I am surprised at how little time has elapsed. This time I was in my stalker's house for only a little more than an hour and had countless orgasms. I am exhausted, but pleasantly so. I mix a martini and sit down to relax for a while before going to sleep.

And suddenly it dawns on me that I have only one more story and this will all be over. I can't let that happen. I jump on the website and save copies of all the stories I had removed earlier. When I go to bed, there are ten stories in my 'Recipe' folder on the laptop. I hope he sees them.

****

Sunday is a day of rest, and I need it. I am tired but content. I figure that Tuesday will produce the DVD of our performance last night. The third of the original three stories has relatively simple bondage scenarios; a fucking machine and the gynecological examining table.

Building a suitable table will not be difficult. The fucking machine, if my stalker intends to duplicate the one in the story, will take a little more effort but can probably be completed in less than a week. If I get lucky, our next encounter may occur as soon as next weekend.

I clean my apartment in the morning and then head to my parent's house for our ritual Sunday dinner. Angie is doing something with one of her brothers at church and is not in attendance. I stay longer than normal so it's nearly bedtime when I get home.

On Monday I keep an eye out for Brian but only see him from a distance when he solves some problem down the hall. The rest of the day is uneventful.

Brian is waiting for me when I arrive at the office Tuesday morning. We enjoy a cup of coffee together in the lunchroom before demands of the day split us apart. I am still unable to get close enough to him to smell his aftershave. As always, I study his body for clues.

I think I am falling in love with my mailman; he has brought me so many wonderful surprises over the past few weeks. He doesn't let me down today. My new DVD is in the box when I arrive home from work. As before, there is a hand-printed declaration that no other copies of the video exist. I force myself to wait until bedtime for the show to begin.

I crawl into bed at nine, armed with my favorite vibrating dildo, my laptop, and the new DVD. This one is much like the last, excellent clarity, sound reproduction, and color rendition with careful editing.

Everything from Saturday night has been recorded. I watch myself examine the strangely shaped device, test it for fit, and then mount it for what turns out to be only about twenty minutes of bondage sex. It felt like an eternity.

I cum hard watching the camera zoom in on him fucking me from behind with the butt plug in place, my dildo doing a splendid job of satisfying my needs as I stare at the screen.

I hear myself use the safe word and my stalker follows the rules, withdrawing his cock and releasing my restraints. Once again I am impressed with the size of the condom-clad organ he pulls out of my pussy.

The camera view shifts to the other room as he carries me inside and gently positions me on the bed. I have watched him fuck me countless times since I received the first video, but I have never before been able to watch anyone make love to me. I switch to a small bullet vibrator and press it against the side of my clitoris. My timing is perfect; I cum at exactly the same moment that Carla in the video reaches the final climax of her performance. Our cries of pleasure harmonize in my small bedroom.

I lie there in bed sleepily satisfied for several minutes, then power down my laptop and turn off the light.

****

To be continued...

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On a Slippery Slope Ch. 03



Brian does not make an appearance on Wednesday or Thursday. I assume he is working at one of the other companies nearby. I see him briefly on Friday and suggest we go to happy hour with the rest of the crowd from the office. He declines with what seems like sincere regret. He has to work at the computer store tonight and most of the weekend.

Saturday's mail is a major disappointment. There is nothing from my stalker. I am bummed out and feel a bit depressed for the rest of the weekend, but I recover a little when I realize we are likely to be together the following weekend. I have a nice dinner with my parents and Angie on Sunday.

By Wednesday, I am feeling uneasy. I have not seen Brian once this week. In desperation, I pull the computer cable trick on my desktop unit and place a trouble call. Twenty minutes later a man I have never seen before enters my office.

"Where's Brian?" I ask, barely being civil to the guy.

"He's at the other end of the state," he replies. "His Guard unit was activated yesterday because of the flooding down south. What's your problem?"

"My what?"

"Your computer problem."

"I don't know. That's why I called you guys," I respond testily. I vaguely recall hearing something about flooding on the news a day or so ago but I don't remember anything about the National Guard being needed.

The guy pokes around for a couple of minutes, finds the disconnected cables, and reconnects them.

"You're all set," he says with a smile.

"Thanks. When will Brian be back?" I ask, smiling back at him, trying to be nice.

"Beats me," he says, grabbing his tool kit and heading out the door.

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Now I am really upset.

I glue myself to the TV when I get home. The flooding is awful. How could this happen and I'm only vaguely aware of it?

"Because Carla, you are a self-absorbed little tramp," I reply to myself out loud, "that's how."

I'm ashamed of myself. People only a hundred miles away have lost everything and all I can think about is my stalker tying me up and fucking me again. But my sympathy doesn't last long. I feel sorrier for myself than I do for them. I realize I have become a shallow twit. I don't care.

Suddenly I panic. What if I get instructions in the mail this week? I'll do whatever they say because I need another encounter with my stalker, but it will mean that Brian isn't the one. I worry about this for the rest of the week.

Mercifully, Saturday night arrives. Mail delivery for the week ended today with no contact from my stalker. Brian is still in the running.

On Sunday, I beg off dinner with my parents but discover that there is a god. The governor announces that the Guard will be standing down the next day. Brian should be home Monday night and back at work on Tuesday.

I don't see Brian until Wednesday. We have coffee together in the lunchroom. He looks tired. I hope it's because he's been working late on whatever restraint device or fucking machine he is going to use on me next. Then I feel guilty. I am so selfish.

The week passes without any contact from my stalker. I am circling the drain now. Maybe I did something during our last encounter that put him off. Was it because I had to use the safe word? I can't believe that's the case; he made love to me afterward. Maybe Brian isn't my stalker after all and something has happened to the real one.

Dinner with my family and Angie doesn't cheer me up.

Another week goes by and I decide that Brian is avoiding me. I only see him twice in the hallway as he moves from job to job.

I no longer eat at regular times. If my body tells me it needs fuel, I scrounge up something unless it seems like too much trouble.

I've stopped making up my bed in the morning. I no longer watch the videos; they are too depressing since I now believe I'll never again be fucked by my stalker.

It seems very likely that I no longer have a stalker. My toys lie unused in the drawer by my bed. I have abandoned the website that started it all. Reading about other people's bondage adventures is now a real downer.

All my friends at work, and my boss, know something is wrong. I am deluged with offers of help if I'll just tell them about my problem. I tell them I don't want to talk about it.

I'd love to talk about it, particularly to Angie who is very solicitous, but I can't. How on earth can I explain what I've been doing and how depressed I am that the dangerous game appears to have ended?

I tell my parents that I don't feel well and won't be coming for dinner.

Another week goes by. I see little of Brian and I refuse all invitations. I have started parking my car in a different part of my apartment complex. I don't want any of my friends to see the car, think I'm home, and start banging on my door. Ditto for my family.

Once again I beg off from dinner with my parents. My mother is getting suspicious.

On Thursday of the following week Angie, whose office is just down the hall, marches into my office late in the afternoon and shuts the door.

"Okay, girlfriend. This has to stop," she announces, her arms folded under her breasts. I burst into tears and she comes around to my side of the desk to pull my face against her stomach. I cry for a long time while she strokes my hair.

"Tell me," she says softly.

"I can't," I sob. "I have to work this thing out by myself. I'm really okay."

"Okay, my ass," she counters. "But you aren't going to talk about it, are you?"

"No."

Angie takes a deep breath and says something that immediately grabs my attention.

"I love you, but you need to get a grip on yourself and you need a shower," she announces as she kisses the top of my head before leaving the office.

I rush into the ladies room and sniff my underarms. She's right and I am mortified. I raise one arm and look into the mirror. Stubble, and lots of it. I reach down and find a similar condition on my legs. I can't remember when I shaved last. I am disgusted with myself.

I look at my watch. Only fifteen minutes until quitting time. I hide in my office. At five o'clock on the dot I grab my purse, leave the office, and immediately run into my boss.

"Carla, give me a minute," she says as she gestures for me to follow her into her office.

"Everyone is worried about you. I want you to take tomorrow off and work on whatever it is that's making you this way. I need the old Carla back. Take Monday off too if need be. Don't come back to work until you can bring the old Carla with you."

She smiles as she says this to soften the words, but I know she means business. If I try to speak, I'll cry so I just nod my head and beat a hasty retreat.

When I get to my car I see a couple of shriveled McDonald's fries in the driver's seat and an old dried up paper coffee cup in the holder. How long have they been there? There is more debris on the passenger side. 

As expected, there is nothing of interest in my mail. I enter my apartment and look around. A pig lives here. There are dirty dishes in my sink. Some are days old. When I look more closely I see paper plates in the mix. Paper plates in my sink?

Empty and half-empty Solo cups are everywhere. I see an empty gin bottle on my coffee table and find another in my trash, which is overflowing. Dust lies thickly on every surface.

Angie got my attention. I take a shower, shave my legs and underarms, and wash my hair twice. I pull on shorts and a tee shirt and begin to clean. It takes two trips to the dumpster to get rid of all the debris.

I vacuum, dust, change my sheets, and do the dishes. Fortunately I have a small apartment. At nine o'clock I am done and I take another shower. I'm starving. I put on a fresh outfit and head for Taco Bell. Not particularly healthy, but I can't do much better at this time of night. Tomorrow I'll do my laundry and shop for groceries.

I sleep like a baby for the first time in weeks and wake up refreshed. There is nothing in the house to eat so I go to Dunkin Donuts. I nearly faint from pleasure when I bite into a chocolate-covered treat.

I go home and haul my dirty sheets and clothing down to the laundry room in the basement of my building. While the machine is doing its thing, I make out a grocery list. I throw everything in the dryer and go back up stairs. I am filled with resolve because I have made a decision. I am going to my stalker's house tonight uninvited. If he's there, I'll confront him. If he isn't I'll go home and force myself to forget about him.

The day goes by quickly. I treat myself to a nice lunch and then head for the grocery store. I need just about everything so I buy just about everything. After putting it all away, I pull out the dress and shoes I wore to his house. They are in good condition and ready to go.

I eat a good dinner, grateful that I am once again capable of preparing something with nutritional value. At six o'clock I get dressed. A bra and panties are included in my ensemble this time around. I drive to his house and park directly in front, no longer caring who sees me or my car.

Marching up to the front door, I ring the doorbell. Nothing happens. I ring it again and wait a good thirty seconds. Just as I turn to leave, the door opens and I'm confronted with an elderly woman, somewhere in her seventies I guess. I am stunned.

"Yes dear? May I help you?" she asks.

"I was lo...looking for the owner," I stammer.

"I'm Edna Wilson. I'm the owner. I've lived here for almost forty years."

"I'm so sorry to have bothered you," I exclaim, looking around to see if I have the wrong house. "I was hoping to find..."

"Connor, I'll bet. Come inside sweetie, it's still hot out there. Let me fix you a nice glass of iced tea."

Not knowing what else to do, and not having a clue what I'll find, I step into the entryway. A quick upward glance tells me the entryway speaker and the camera are gone. When she leads me back to her kitchen I peer into both bondage rooms. They are nicely furnished. The ring bolt in the ceiling of the first room is gone and repairs have been made. All the cameras, pencil spots, and speakers are missing.

Mrs. Wilson gestures for me to take a seat at the table that once held voice disguising equipment, the monitor, and the strange little console. I am freaked out. I start to hyperventilate.

"Oh my, what's wrong dear?" she asks.

"I just feel a little faint for some reason," I respond with a quiver in my voice. "I'll be okay when I have a bit of that tea."

Mrs. Wilson sets a glass of tea, a sugar bowl, and a plate of lemon slices in front of me. With a glass of her own, she joins me at the table.

"Okay now," she begins. "How can I help you? It must have something to do with Connor."

I need a story and I need it quickly. I improvise.

"My parents were killed in a car crash when I was little. There was no other family so my brother and I went into foster care. We were separated soon after. I've been looking for him ever since. My search eventually led me to this neighborhood and, I thought, to this house," I say, feeling guilty with two healthy parents less than five miles away.

"Well, honey," she says, "I'm not sure how much help I can give you. I don't think Connor is his real name."

"You don't?" I respond, trying not to sound too hopeful.

"Lucille, that's my sister who lives on the west coast, had a serious operation at the end of February. We knew that rehab was going to take several months, so I decided to rent the place and go help her. I ran an ad in the paper and Connor called me right away. I rented the house to him for quite a bit less than it was worth in exchange for him taking care of the place, cutting the grass, and working through a list of maintenance items I gave him."

I nod my head to encourage her, but I don't have a clue how any of this is relevant.

"Connor paid me for three months up front with a check, but the name on the check wasn't Connor." Suddenly she now has my undivided attention.

"What was the name?" I ask her, my heart in my throat.

"I don't remember. It was months ago and the check didn't bounce so I sort of stopped thinking about it."

I must have looked crestfallen because Mrs. Wilson patted me on the arm.

"But I can find out," she offers.

"If it's not too much trouble, I'd like that," I respond, my voice thick with emotion.

"Hang on a minute," she says, getting up from the table and leaving the room. A minute later she returns with an accordion folder.

"Mr. Wilson, rest his soul, taught me to make copies of everything in a business transaction. I'm sure I made a copy of the check before I took it to the bank."

After searching around in the folder, she produces a sheet of paper and hands it over to me. My heart nearly stops. The name on the check is Brian K. Devlin and an address here in town is printed below his name. I nearly faint from the feelings that surge through my body.

"How long have you been back?" I ask her, my voice shaking from the adrenaline.

"Two weeks. Lucille recovered more quickly than we thought, so I came home a bit early." She answers, "Are you okay, dear?"

"I'm all right," I say. "I'm just a little shocked. Brian is my brother's name. May I have a copy of this made? I'll bring the original right back to you." Brian didn't lose interest at all. He simply didn't have time to set up the third encounter and then restore Mrs. Wilson's house to its original condition before she returned home. I am elated.

"We can make the copy right here, easy as pie. Mr. Wilson bought one of those all-in-one machines a year or so before he passed. I'll be right back." A minute later she comes back with a copy and hands it to me.

"Oh thank you, thank you so much," I tell her sincerely.

"Well, I hope it helps. Do you think he's your brother?"

"I don't know. If he got adopted, he has a different last name than we had as little kids. Maybe Devlin is the right one. I'll just have to look him up and see what happens." I marvel at how easily the lies slip out of my mouth. And I need to get out of here before she starts to ask hard questions. I finish my tea in a gulp and rise from the table.

Mrs, Wilson seems satisfied with my story because she doesn't press me for more information as she walks me to her door. She pats me on the arm as I turn to leave.

"Good luck dear," she calls. "I hope everything works out for you."

"Not half as much as I do," I mutter under my breath when I am far enough away.

I drive back to my apartment and sit staring at the name and address of my stalker. Now that I have the information, I'm not exactly sure what to do with it. I decide to do a drive-by as soon as it gets dark.

I plug his address into my GPS unit and soon find myself parked across the street from a nice single story house, considerably larger than Mrs. Wilson's. I do not see a Camaro but there is a motorcycle parked nearby. I decide not to hang around. He could be anywhere, so I return home.

I don't know what to do next, so I drag out my laptop and both DVDs. I give myself two sensational orgasms while I watch Brian fuck me, and then fall asleep almost immediately.

On Sunday I join my family for dinner. When I walk in the house, my father jumps up with both fists in the air.

"She lives! She lives!" he yells. I stick my tongue out at him and go help mom in the kitchen. She tells me that Angie won't be able to make it tonight. I am disappointed.

I get home by early evening and mix a martini. As I sip the concoction, I ponder my situation. All of a sudden I know the truth, but Brian no longer has a place for us to continue the game.

I doubt that we will develop a real relationship, and I can no longer handle the stress this secret has put me through. The death spiral I was in nearly cost me my job. After a second martini, I decide that the best thing to do is confront him and end this business once and for all.

****

I am back at work on Monday morning feeling bright and chipper. Angie lays the back of her hand across my forehead as though checking for a fever.

"What the hell happened to you? You look wonderful!" she exclaims.

"You got my attention on Thursday. Thank you. I also got my problem worked out." Well, most of it, I think to myself.

"Good. I'm glad you're back. I missed you," she says and then abruptly changes direction. "You still aren't going to tell me about it, are you?"

"Nope." I wish I could tell her, but I can't. At least not until I have everything fully resolved.

"I didn't think so," she says, giving me a hug before heading off to her office. I go the other way, looking for my boss.

"The old Carla is reporting for duty," I announce to her with a salute.

"Good. Get to work," she orders but then breaks into a broad grin. "Welcome back."

Monday and Tuesday are a blur of activity. On Wednesday, Brian is waiting for me in the lunchroom when I arrive at work.

"Will you go to dinner with me Friday night," he asks the second I cross the threshold into the room.

I've been waiting for this guy to ask me out for an eternity, but I decide to go forward with my plan.

"I have a better idea. Why don't we go out for a drink tonight; sort of get to know each other a little. If that goes well, we can talk about what happens next. How about Hot Spot right after work?" I suggest, naming a local watering hole that is close by.

Brian looks a little put off, but he recovers quickly. "Works for me. I'll be there."

I spend the day working hard, but I still have time to think about the odd turn of events. Mrs. Wilson is back in her house, so our bondage days are over. But, because of her, I confirm that Brian is my stalker. And now he wants to take me out on a date.

I get to the pub a little early and snag a small semi-circular booth in the back that will give us some privacy. Brian comes in moments later and I wave to get his attention. He slides into the booth beside me and I catch the faint scent of his aftershave. It is the same as my stalker. More confirmation.

Brian signals for a server. She takes our order, a cosmopolitan for me and scotch for him. When our drinks arrive and the server departs, I pull the copy of his check to Mrs. Wilson out of my purse and slide it over to him. He stares down at the piece of paper for a long time, looks back up at me, and takes a couple of deep breaths.

"Are you going to call the cops?" he finally asks.

"Why on earth would I do that? I was a willing participant and I've been old enough to vote for years. If you hadn't set it up the way you did, it would not have happened. I would never have agreed to something like that up front. You had to trick me. How did you do it, by the way?"

"I had trouble recovering some of your files after I fixed your laptop. One of the corrupted files was in a 'Recipe' folder. I found some interesting stuff in there. When I read the stories, I had a pretty good idea of your sexual interests. I saw an opportunity and I took it. I installed a piece of malware that allows me to snoop through your computer whenever it's powered up. Not very ethical and very possibly illegal."

"Don't worry about that," I reply "I have to admit I enjoyed myself immensely."

"I'm glad," he responds. "Did Mrs. Wilson tell you about Connor?"

"She mentioned the name, but it made no sense to me. She thought it was odd that your check had a different name than she expected but, since it didn't bounce, she didn't give it much thought.

"Connor is my twin brother; my monoamniotic identical twin brother."

"What?"

"Same amniotic sac. Identical twins can't get any closer than that," he answers. "And we share everything. Always have."

"What did you just say?" I ask, my voice beginning to shake as something tells me I'm in for a huge shock.

"Connor is my identical twin brother," Brian reiterates. "That check is the only mistake we made. Connor answered the ad in the paper using his own name, but I'm the one who wrote out the check."




On a Slippery Slope Ch. 03



I look him in the eye for a long time and then asked the obvious question, my voice choked with emotion.

"Who have I been with?"

"Both of us. Both times."

I sit there, stunned into silence for a long time. Brian waits me out.

"I think you have some explaining to do," I finally manage to say, my voice breaking up.

"When I saw what was on your computer, I decided to set something up if I could, but I didn't know exactly what to do. I had Connor read the stories and we talked it over. Renting a place was his idea. Neutral ground. The next day he found Mrs. Wilson's ad. He had an appointment the following day so I went to look at the house and wrote her a check on my account immediately. The place was perfect. It took us a couple of days after she left to move all her furniture into the back rooms and set up the cameras and stuff. Preparing the restraints featured in the first story took a little more time. Then we started sending you the cards and keeping our fingers crossed."

"Go on," I say after a lengthy pause.

"When you showed up at the house the first time, we knew you were the type to push the envelope. That night was the most incredible experience of our lives. The second time you came calling really blew our minds. We ran out of time before we could finish up with the third story because Mrs. Wilson decided to come back early."

"I need to know who did what to me."

"Well, this is a little awkward, but..."

"I need to know!" I interrupt, my voice becoming shrill.

"...Connor took care of the oral and digital honors at our first meeting. I fucked you at the end while he operated the cameras and jerked off in the kitchen," he tells me. The old shock effect

I suddenly have a mental picture of the waste basket with its crumpled paper towel and I now understand the purpose of the strange little console; camera controls.

"The second time around, I did the hand work. Connor did you with the butt plug in place until you used the safe word. Then he took you into the other room. He was concerned and wanted to take care of you. It was my turn to operate the cameras and jerk off."

"The two of you used me!" I say harshly.

"And you wanted to be used," he continues. "You just told me you would never have gone along with it if you knew from the beginning there would be two of us, but it worked out well in the end for everyone, don't you think?"

"At the end of the day, I guess it did. I just don't like to be manipulated," I answer after a lengthy pause.

"Of course you do. The whole bondage thing is based on manipulation and control."

"Well, maybe you're right, but it's all water under the bridge now," I tell him. "It's over. Mrs. Wilson's place is no longer available. And I think we can forget about dinner on Friday night. I can't start a relationship with you, especially under the circumstances. I'd never know which twin I was with."

"I want you to know that I'm very disappointed," he says sincerely, "I have been attracted to you since the first time I saw you. So has Connor."

"What?" I ask, alarm bells going off in my head again. "Have I met him? Other than at Mrs. Wilson's I mean."

"Of course. Connor and I work together. We own the business. I do computer hardware and software stuff. He specializes in security."

"But you're the only one who's been in our offices. Your name is on your shirt," I point out, now completely puzzled.

"My name is the only name that has been seen in your offices. When Connor is working there, he wears one of my shirts. We service other companies where it's the other way around. It's just a little joke we play on everyone. No one knows that twins are involved except for the two other guys who work for us. And they're cousins. We have no other family, so except for the National Guard unit we belong to, a few close friends, and our neighbors, very few people know us as twins."

"So who have I been having coffee with? I ask, already certain I know the answer.

"Both of us," he replies.

"Which one of you got rid of the drunk in the bar that time?"

"That was Connor." 

"I don't fucking believe this," I breathe as I wipe a hand across my face. "How do I know you're actually Brian?"

"Technically, you don't, except that I'm telling you the truth."

"If both of you are attracted to me, how did you end up being the one who asked me out on a date and not Connor?"

"I won the coin toss," Brian says with a grin, "but he's still in the running."

"What?"

"I only won the privilege of asking you out. We would have flipped again to see who actually got to take you to dinner."

"This is the craziest goddamn thing I've ever heard of. I'm outta here," I say, shaking my head and grabbing my purse.

"So two for the price of one doesn't interest you?"

"Not even a little bit."

"Okay, but consider this. Connor and I are preparing a new place, much better than Mrs. Wilson's house."

"Are you deaf? I just said I wasn't interested in anything involving the two of you."

"We would both love to have you join us again, but that isn't the only thing I was going to suggest," he continues. "I was thinking of forming a foursome."

"That's it. I'm gone!" I exclaim, loudly enough to draw the attention of the bartender as I slide out of the booth. "I don't want any part of this!"

"Not even with Angie?" He asks with a hint of a smile.

I don't know how many surprises I can handle in one day. I sink slowly back into the booth and put my head in my hands. When I came in here I thought I had the upper hand.

"Is she already involved with you two," I am finally able to ask.

"Not yet. That's where you come in."

"Me?"

"If you can convince her to join us, we can start the whole thing over again when Connor and I are finished with the new place. We should be done in less than a month."

"You are out of your fucking mind. There is no way I'm dragging my best friend into this cesspool. I'm going home," I say as I leave the booth for the second time and head for the door.

"Just think about it," he calls after me, "You might be doing your best friend a huge favor. And you probably ought to let her be the one to decide whether or not she wants to play."

I give him the finger over my shoulder as I push my way through the door and out onto the sidewalk.

Stopping at a McDonald's on the way home, I eat a cheeseburger and a coke in place of the pub food I thought I was going to enjoy for dinner. I'm not all that hungry now anyway.

After mixing myself a cosmopolitan, I sit down to think everything over. Mostly I am just pissed off that those two dickheads made a fool out of me. But the more I think about it, I realize that no serious damage has been done. My pride is hurt but the fact remains that I was given the two most extraordinary sexual encounters of my life. And, if I'm honest about it, I realize that both men took very good care of me and all three of us experienced incredible pleasure. They may have been using me, but they were meeting my needs as well.

I also reaffirm my conviction that I would not have joined the game if I had known up front that two men would be involved. I am basically monogamous by nature, and I would have found the idea far too outrageous. But I also know I have no regrets about what actually happened.

Another thought occurs to me. Apparently, it was Connor who made love to me at the end of my second bondage session. I don't know if it was simply because he was the one who had the opportunity, or if it was a sign that he has special feelings for me.

I find it all very confusing but I make one more decision. Regardless of what happens with Angie, I am going to approach Brian/Connor and tell whomever that I want to keep playing when their new place is ready to go. I thought the game was over when I met Mrs. Wilson, but now I have an opportunity to play again and I will not pass it up.

But my biggest problem is Angie. Brian has a point about letting her make her own decision. My issue is with the notion that it's somehow my job to lure her into the game. Brian recruited me, so I see no reason why he can't deal with Angie himself.

But as soon as I finish that thought, I realize there is a big difference. I had made it plain, at least on my computer, that I was fascinated by bondage. As far as I know, Angie has no interest in anything that kinky.

I wrestle with that thought for an hour or so and reach no conclusion. I decide to table the issue and drag out my laptop and the videos. I am not feeling sexy; I just want to scrutinize them very closely now that I know two different men are involved.

Both my laptop and TV have high definition screens, but they are too small for my purposes. I put everything away. I've been telling myself to buy a large flat screen TV for quite a while, but I've been putting it off. There is an appliance store a few blocks from my office that promises to deliver and set up anything they have in stock within six hours of purchase. I'll test that claim tomorrow.

I have absolutely no problem sharing the two guys with Angie, but I have no idea how to broach the subject with her. I fall into a fitful sleep worrying about that.

I am no closer to a solution in the morning, but I pull the computer cable trick for the third time and place a trouble call. If I get one of the cousins, I'll scream.

Fifteen minutes later one of the twins arrives, the name 'Brian' sewn on his shirt.

"Which asshole did I get?" I ask caustically.

"Still pissed, huh?" he asks with a smile. "I'm Connor."

"Yeah, right," I reply, sarcasm dripping off my voice. "Brian works hardware and software. You're the security genius."

"This is a simple job. Besides, we know you pull this stunt whenever you want to see Brian. If I weren't such a confident guy, my feelings would be hurt," he says with a wide grin, and I'm forced to admit to myself that these guys are irrepressible.

"Now what do you really want?"

I take a deep breath, and then respond.

"I...I want back in the game when the new place is ready. And I will talk to Angie. She probably won't go for it because she has more sense than I have. But if she's interested, I'll let you know. Don't hold your breath."

Connor, or whoever the fuck he is, seems genuinely pleased. He reaches out to take my hand, gives me a quick kiss on the cheek, and turns to go. Just as he reaches the door, he turns once again to face me.

"You know that Brian and I will protect you, and Angie too if she joins us. We will never put you in harm's way."

"I know that," I say with a deep sigh. "Now beat it. I have work to do."

I do a pretty good job of concentrating on my work until lunchtime when I race down to the appliance store and buy a very large flat screen TV with a home theater system and arrange to meet their delivery guy at my apartment right after work. Then I go back to the office and hunt down Angie. I have decided to take a direct approach.

"Tomorrow's Friday..." I begin.

"Brilliant observation," she interrupts with her patented radiant smile.

"...and I thought it would be nice if you came over to my place about six thirty. I'll fix dinner and we can spend the evening together," I finish.

"I'd really like that. It has been a while since we just relaxed in each other's company," she replies, looking very pleased. "I miss that. I'll bring the wine, white or red?"

"White."

"White it is."

"And bring a nightie," I add after a long pause, "just in case you don't feel like making the trip home late at night. Better yet, if you have no other plans, why don't you stay at my place for the weekend until time for dinner at Mom and Dad's?"

"A sleepover! We haven't done that in ages. I'd love to. What a wonderful idea."

"Great! See you tomorrow," I tell her with a wide smile as I head back to my office.

****

The guy from the appliance store shows up five minutes after I get home. An hour later he's gone and I am the proud owner of a device that should help me figure out some way to tell the twins apart.

I skip my usual early evening cocktail and start to prepare dinner. I don't want my vision or my thoughts blurred when I review the videos.

It's seven-thirty by the time I clean up the dinner mess, which gives me enough time to run through each video twice before bedtime. I settle in front of the huge TV and hit the remote to watch my first bondage encounter, supposedly beginning with Connor. 

Unfortunately, his body seems flawless; no blemishes of any kind that I can see. Brian is apparently featured in the second half of the video. So I study him closely. 

I simply cannot detect any difference between the two men. They are superb specimens but they are indistinguishable from one another. Even their large, stiff cocks look like products that came off an assembly line.

I have another problem; I am unable to ignore the sex. After an hour of watching the twins fuck me in high definition splendor with surround sound, I'm so hot I could melt lead. A vibrating bullet seems like a good idea, so I head back to the bedroom to gather my equipment and change into a slinky little nightgown. At the last moment, I grab my favorite dildo just in case.

It occurs to me that my new home theater system will encourage a lot of recreational masturbation in the living room. Fortunately, my couch is a queen-size sleep sofa, so I unfold it and settle in to watch the show while I scratch my itch.

I cum the first time with the bullet stimulating my clit, watching Brian fuck me with my legs captured in the slings. When I recover, I change videos and insert the vibrating dildo deep into my pussy, use the bullet on my clit, and watch Connor fuck me from behind as I lay draped across the arch. Then I watch him make love to me in the original bondage room. When it's over I am too exhausted to drag myself into the bedroom. I just barely manage to turn everything off and then spend the night right where I am.

****

My apartment is small enough that the alarm in my bedroom awakens me on time. I go through my usual morning routine and arrive at the office just as Angie shows up.

"When you come over tonight, bring your favorite vibrator, or dildo, or whatever you're using these days. I guarantee you'll need it," I say with a mischievous grin, knowing she's in the middle of a long dry spell between boyfriends. I have decided to show her the videos after I explain everything.

Angie just stares at me, looking like a beautiful owl for a few moments, and then her face breaks out in a wide grin.

Angie and I started having sleepovers almost as soon as we met and we always slept in the same bed. That's where we learned to masturbate, lying side by side on our stomachs, our hands under our pubic mounds, stimulating our pussies with our fingers, and wiggling our little asses.

We didn't know about orgasms, but it was fun and it felt good. Eventually, Angie pushed the boundaries a little and slipped over the edge, surprising both of us when she screamed into her pillow. Panting, she told me to keep going and I followed suit a couple of minutes later. After that, we couldn't keep our hands off our pussies.

Later on, when we began having sex with guys, we continued to have sleepovers, either at my place or hers, but we stopped masturbating together. It has been many years since we've had an orgasm in each other's presence, but I know it will happen again tonight.

"Ooooooo, you naughty girl! We haven't done anything like that in eons. What's the occasion?" she asks, still smiling from ear to ear.

"I am going to tell you a story and then I'm going to show you something. When I'm done, you'll be climbing the walls," I say, returning her smile with one of equal wattage."

"Must be something really spicy," she says, raising an eyebrow at me.

"You have no idea," I reply. "Lunch today?"

"Can't, the boss is sending me to a meeting across town, but I'll be at your place at six-thirty sharp."

****

Angie arrives on time wearing a cute little sundress that shows a little cleavage and a lot of leg. As always, she looks beautiful. She has luxurious long dark hair that she allows to cascade down to the middle of her back. I can certainly understand the twin's interest in her. I hand her a cosmopolitan and lead her into my living room. She spots the new TV and home theater system immediately and sets her small suitcase down beside the sofa.

"Nice. When did you get that?"

"Yesterday. It figures prominently in my plans for later tonight."

"Okay, what's going on? I won't be able to stand the suspense," she says with a mock frown as she takes a sip of her drink.

"You'll just have to wait. Come talk to me while I fix dinner."

I prepare a nice meal of poached salmon, asparagus, and risotto while we work on our cocktails. By seven thirty we are seated at the table. The sauvignon blanc she brought compliments everything perfectly. For dessert we split a large piece of tiramisu I picked up on the way home from work.

"Would you like some coffee?" I ask.

"No. And I have run out of patience. I want to hear that story. Right now," she demands, folding her arms under her perfect breasts.

"Okay," I say, laughing at her intensity. "Let me pour us some more wine and I'll get started. It's a long tale."

I start by telling her of my fascination with bondage. She is surprised, and then surprises me by confessing to a similar interest. I pull out my laptop to show her the website and she's immediately hooked.

"Holy shit!" I've never seen anything like this!" she exclaims, after I give her a quick tour of the site. I let her spend a half hour skimming stories while I clean up the dinner mess. She spends most of her time in the bondage category.

Then I show her my 'Recipes' folder, which I've expanded to ten stories, hoping my stalker will subject me to reenactments of each one. She is enthralled.

"Aw, come on!" she protests a little while later when I wrestle the computer away from her. She is already highly aroused.

"This is just background," I reply, holding the laptop over my head. "It's time for you to hear the rest of the story."

I begin by telling her how the bondage section of the site had quickly become an obsession and how frantic I was when my hard drive crashed. I'm not specific about where I took it to be fixed in case she is aware that Brian moonlights at the computer store.

When I tell her about the first note, she is stunned. I get up to retrieve the envelope from my underwear drawer.

"Weren't you frightened?" she asks with a stricken look on her face when I return and show her all the notes and the copies of the three stories.

"At first I thought it was a joke. Then I got pissed. I didn't get concerned until I received the first story copy. I had saved it only a couple of days before. That's when I knew someone was snooping though my computer in real time."

"That slime ball repair guy put something on your computer!" she declared. "Or you were targeted by a hacker. Did you call Tim?"

"No. I didn't want to involve the police, particularly my brother. But mostly I wanted to see what would happen next. I removed all but the three best stories from my laptop, including the one I got in the mail, and waited. In short order, I received copies of the other two."

"Didn't you realize you were being stalked?"

"Not until I got the note with the phone number. Up until that time I thought someone was playing an elaborate joke on me, just messing with my head. I bought a throwaway phone and made the call. A recorded voice told me it was time for us to take the next step, that I would receive explicit instructions in the next day's mail, and I was to follow them to the letter. As promised, they were in my mailbox the following day. That's when I realized it wasn't a joke."




On a Slippery Slope Ch. 03



"Oh fuck, Carla. What were the instructions?"

"I was told to be at the address printed on the card at exactly seven the following night. I was to dress appropriately, to open the door when I arrived, and to stop in the entryway. I was also told not masturbate the night before."

"Oh my God! Then what?"

"I disobeyed orders, masturbated like crazy, and tried to get some sleep. I called in sick the next morning and spent the entire day getting ready and worrying that I would prove to be inadequate somehow. I arrived at the address precisely at seven that night. It is only a short walk from here. I dressed appropriately as ordered. When I arrived, the door was unlocked. I went inside and stopped in the entryway."

"Goddammit Carla, didn't you realize how dangerous that was?" she exclaims, raising her voice.

"I did, and I didn't care. I was so far over the edge that the only thing I could think about was my stalker and the things he was going to do to me."

Angie gives me a long thoughtful look. "Tell me about it," she says softly, her voice a little ragged.

"Why don't you read the three stories first? They capture most of my bondage interests and they'll give you some idea about what I was expecting."

When she finishes reading fifteen minutes later, I tell my very aroused friend all of it; the hour and a half I spent being overwhelmed by the most intense sexual experience of my life. I describe in detail my second encounter and the emotional death spiral which followed when there was no more contact. I do not tell her of my quest to identify my stalker. I will do that later in the weekend.

"That must have been when I confronted you and you started crying in your office," she says, placing her hand on my arm.

"And you told me I needed a shower," I reply with a smile. "Now go get ready for bed. Change in my bedroom and come back out here. It's show time."

When Angie arrives a few minutes later, I have unfolded the sleep sofa, loaded the first DVD into the player, and put the system on pause. She is wearing a very short, very sexy blue nightie with matching panties and she's carrying a velvet bag with a drawstring. I am pretty certain I know what's inside.

"Get into bed and make yourself comfortable. I'll be back in a jiffy," I say.

When I return, I am wearing the little dress I wore to my two bondage encounters and nothing else. I too, am carrying a cloth bag of goodies. I crawl into bed beside her. We prop ourselves up against the sofa back and I hit the play button.

For the next few minutes Angie sits transfixed, making small sounds deep in her throat, one hand covering her mouth and the other idly stroking her breasts. I am fascinated watching her respond to what is happening to me in the video.

When Connor lowers his face between my legs suspended in the slings, she moans loudly and slips a hand into her panties. When he finger fucks me, she copies his hand movements as much as possible, fingering her pussy and crying out softly. She ignores me, completely focused on the screen in front of us.

Watching Angie gets me very aroused. I lift the hem of my dress to expose my pussy and slip a finger inside to gather lubrication before circling my clit.

At the point in the video where Brian begins fucking me, Angie retrieves a small vibrator from her bag, draws her legs back, and slips the instrument into her panties. I hear a faint buzzing sound followed by an involuntary cry of pleasure. She cums within seconds, throwing her head back against the sofa as her legs quiver in concert with the rhythmic contractions of her pussy.

I stop playing with myself and pause the video to allow her time to rest and to ease my own fever-pitched arousal. I don't want to cum yet.

"Oh fuck," she finally breathes, "turn that back on."

I'll never know for sure what causes me to do what I do next. Acting purely on impulse, I roll over onto my knees facing Angie. Sliding my hands up the outside of her thighs, I hook my fingers in the waistband of her panties and start easing them down over her legs. With a heavy lidded look, she raises her hips, giving me permission to proceed.

"I've seen this movie," I say, hitting the resume button. "I know how it ends."

Angie draws her knees back and opens her legs wide. I stretch out in front of her and bury my face between her thighs. I take my time, licking the insides of her thighs and brushing the tip of my tongue lightly up and over the top of her pubic mound. I kiss her landing strip and then run my tongue back down the other side. She moans and rocks her pelvis upward, encouraging me to do more. I comply with her wishes and ease my tongue into her slit. She cries out sharply.

For the next few minutes, Angie's cries compete with the televised Carla as both women start their climb towards thunderous orgasms. Brian is expertly fucking me at this point in the show. I am careful to pay just enough attention to Angie's clit to keep her near the edge, but not enough to push her over the top. I want her to cum with the Carla in the video.

My timing is perfect. I hear my surround sound voice screaming in release just as Angie lets out a piercing wail and her body starts to shake violently against mine. I hold her tightly and keep tonguing her clit until I am certain she has reached the peak of her climax and tumbled over the far side, then I pull back and confine myself to kissing the outside of her pussy and her inner thighs.

Angie has gone completely limp. I am concerned that she may have fainted. I look up to find her looking at me with a hint of a smile on her lips. I move up beside her and gather her into my arms. Both of us remain silent for several minutes, locked in each other's embrace.

Finally, she pulls back, places both of her hands on the sides of my face, and looks me directly in the eye.

"Thank you for that. I've wanted you to do that to me for years and I've wanted to do the same thing to you. I know there is another video, but let's save that for tomorrow. Now lie back and allow me to return the favor."

I arrange my body on the mattress and unbutton my dress so she has easy access. At the first flick of her tongue near my clit, I cry out. I am so aroused that I spiral upwards and cum in what must be record time, my hands clamped over my mouth to avoid sharing my pleasurable delirium with the neighbors. She brings me down slowly, gently stroking my pussy with her fingers and tongue. I let out a ragged sigh and drape a forearm across my eyes. Angie takes my other hand and kisses the fingertips.

I recover in a few minutes and Angie asks me if I'd like a nightcap. I do, and she returns soon with two more cosmos. We sit facing each other on the mattress with our legs tucked under and sip our drinks.

"So I guess we're lesbians now," she says with a serious look on her face. I laugh so hard I nearly spill my drink.

"I don't think so," I respond when I recover. "At best we're bi-sexual and I'm not even sure about that. I have never been attracted to any woman but you. And I'll bet neither of us is willing to give up a nice stiff cock in favor of what we just did, as wonderful as it was."

"I wish we had done that years ago. I certainly thought about having sex with you often enough. Think of all the time we've lost," she says a little sadly.

"Think of all the catching up we get to do instead," I counter with a smile. "When we finish our drinks, we are going into my bedroom to make love. There are several things I want to do to you."

Angie gives me a radiant smile and finishes hers in a single gulp. I quickly finish mine and remove the glass from her hand.

For the next two hours we do everything imaginable to each other, employing lips, tongues, fingers, vibrators, and dildos to drive each other wild time and time again. Orgasms are plentiful and intense. Finally, completely exhausted, we fall asleep in each other's arms. My last conscious thought is that I have just had a sexual encounter that rivals those I shared with the twins. In just a few short weeks I have experienced sex as I never dreamed possible. I have never felt so content.

****

To be continued...

I encourage readers to vote and comment. Constructive thoughts, suggestions, and criticisms are always appreciated.



On a Slippery Slope Ch. 04



"Are you sure we aren't lesbians?" Angie asks with a smile as we linger in our bathrobes over Saturday morning coffee. "Anyone one watching us last night would certainly get that impression."

"Are you ready to give up men?"

"Hell no!"

"Me neither, so we aren't lesbians," I declare and then change the subject. "What would you like to do today?"

"I want to watch the second video," she answers.

"Now?" I ask, surprised at her answer, thinking we would save it for tonight.

"Why not now? I love morning sex. But let's shower first," she says, setting her coffee cup aside and taking my hand as she rises to her feet.

We spend a half hour gently soaping each other's bodies and taking liberties whenever opportunities present themselves. By the time we towel off, leaving our hair damp, we are both looking forward to the video and what is likely to happen during and after the show. Realizing that clothing is superfluous, we climb onto the sofa bed stark naked.

We hold hands while we begin watching the performance. Once again Angie is mesmerized by the scenes that unfold in front of her and she quickly becomes highly aroused. She seems particularly interested in the cat o' nine tails that my stalker is dragging up and down between my thighs as I lie draped over the arch. So I pause the video and remind myself that she doesn't yet know that two men are involved. I need to be careful until I'm ready to tell her the rest of the story.

"Is he going to whip you with that?" she asks a little breathlessly.

"No, but if he had, I would have used the safe word the instant he hurt me. But all he did was brush the ropes across my body like he did in the first video. It certainly felt good; made my skin all tingly, just like the first time."

"If that happened to me, I'd want some pain. I love to be spanked, "she says, surprising me. "I've only had one boyfriend who would do it, but I had to get rid of him for other reasons. Go ahead and restart the video."

I comply and before long the camera zooms in to focus perfectly on Brian's hand as he finger fucks me and thumbs my ass. My cries of pleasure are clearly audible even though my face is resting inside the arch. Angie slips her fingers into her pussy. I do the same, as aroused by what she is doing as I am by what I'm watching on the screen.

I know that the twins trade places, but she is still in the dark. When Connor inserts the butt plug and then fucks me senseless, Angie and I cum together, covering our mouths to stifle the noises we're making. I pause the video again to let us rest.

"Oh my God!" she breathes. "How many times did you cum when he did that?"

"I have no idea," I reply. "I was in another dimension somewhere but then I couldn't take any more. Watch what happens next."

The video restarts and a few seconds later I use the safe word. Connor immediately withdraws his impressive condom-clad cock and removes the butt plug. The picture jumps to a shot of him carrying me into the other room and laying me gently on the bed. Angie reaches over to hold my hand once again as Connor finishes the encounter. When the video ends, she turns to face me.

"Your stalker is falling in love with you," she states with authority, "or he is at least headed in that direction."

"Oh, I doubt that. He just enjoyed getting laid."

"Don't bet on it," she says, "and by the way, who was operating the cameras?"

"What?" I ask, stalling for a little time. Not much gets past Angie.

"The camera zoomed in when your stalker started to finger fuck you," she answers with a slight frown on her face. "Didn't you see it?"

Of course I saw it. I have watched the cameras zoom in and out on both videos and I know how it's done. I wasn't planning on telling her about the twins just yet, but now I don't have much choice.

"I have seen it, so I guess it's time for you to hear the rest of the story. It doesn't end with what you just saw."

I spend the next fifteen minutes telling her of my efforts to identify the stalker and my success in doing so. I explain that the bondage house was rented and then tell her about my encounter with Mrs. Wilson and the resulting discovery.

"Brian?" she screeches. "Brian Devlin? I don't fucking believe it!"

"On Wednesday he asked me out on a date for last night. I suggested we meet for a drink at Hot Spot after work instead. I confronted him with the copy of the check he wrote to Mrs. Wilson and he admitted putting malware on my computer, mailing the notes and stories, all of it."

"Obviously you didn't go out with him last night. Are you going to later on?"

"Not exactly, there is more to the story."

"What more could there possibly be? You've already blown my mind."

"Brian has a twin brother. An identical twin brother. You've met him. His name is Conner."

"What? I don't know anybody named Connor."

I spend a couple more minutes explaining that they own the computer company together and the twin thing they do with their shirts. I tell her that they are virtually interchangeable and they've each been in our offices many times, all under Brian's name.

"That's the craziest fucking thing I've ever heard of. And what the hell does Conner...oh...oh no," she exclaims as she puts one hand up to her mouth and the other on her chest.

"Oh yes. Both Brian and Connor are in the videos. When I showed Brian the check copy, I thought there was a chance we could have a real relationship if he were apologetic enough about tampering with my laptop. Instead, he pulled the rug out from under me with the twin thing."

"What did you do?" she asked, a horrified look on her face.

"I asked him who did what to me, and he answered. Conner provided the oral sex and the finger fucking services in video number one and then went into the kitchen to operate the cameras and jerk off. It was Brian who fucked me at the end of that one. Video number two featured Brian doing the hand work and then Connor fucking me with the butt plug in place. And it was Connor who carried me into the other room after I used the safe word. Brian was operating the cameras and jerking off that time around. Connor is the one who appears to be making love to me at the end of video number two."

Angie is completely stunned and starts to hyperventilate. I reach out to pat her on the arm. Finally, she gets control of her breathing.

"What happened next?" she asks, her voice unsteady.

"I told him it was all over because Mrs. Wilson's place was no longer available. I also told him there would be no relationship between the two of us because I could never be certain which twin I was with."

"What did he say to that?"

"He informed me that he and Conner were preparing a new place to enact bondage scenarios. I basically told him to fuck off. I was so pissed at him and his goddamn brother that I couldn't think clearly. Then just when I thought I couldn't handle any more surprises, he really floored me. He said that he and Conner would like to add a fourth person into the mix."

"Who?"

"You."

Angie was speechless for a long while, a shocked expression on her face as she fanned the air in front of her with both hands and started to hyperventilate again.

"I told him there was no way I was dragging my best friend into something like that," I continue. "He asked me to think about it and suggested that you should be the one to decide whether or not you wish to get involved."

"I'm in," she announces.

"What?"

"Count me in. Why on earth wouldn't I want to experience all those wonderful things they did to you?"

"Don't you even want to think about it for a while?" I ask, truly surprised at her hasty decision.

"I have been thinking about it. The whole time I was watching what they did to you, I was vowing that if I ever got a chance like that, I'd grab it. Are you going to get back in the game?"

"I am. I thought about it after I cooled off and realized I was thrilled at the idea of a new bondage place. I made a trouble call on Thursday and ended up with Connor. Or at least he said it was Connor. I told him I wanted to play and that I'd talk to you about it. I didn't think you'd go for it and told him so."

"Well, I am going for it," she said with a broad smile. "I want to be fucked like you were, and I don't care which one of the twins does it."

"You'll get them both, I can assure you. You just won't know which one is doing you."

"How do they decide who does what to whom?" she asks.

"I think they flip a coin."

"Oh for Christ's sake!" she exclaims, shaking her head in disbelief.

"They're full of surprises. By the way, you'll need a safe word."

"I've already chosen 'cannoli' as my safe word," She says, obviously pleased with herself.

"Cannoli?" I repeat, laughing out loud.

"Sure. It's a word I won't forget and I've never heard it used during sex before. I don't know squat about boats. If I use your safe word, I'll forget just when I need it and start yelling 'ahoy, ahoy' or something equally ineffective. Cannoli will do just fine."

"Okay, okay," I say, still laughing. "I'll get in touch with them on Monday and tell them you're in, if you'd like."

"We'll tell them together. When we get to work on Monday, get Brian, or whomever, to come over to the offices. We're going to tell him that we'll play only after we meet with both of them. The boss is in Phoenix all week at a conference so we can spend as long as we need to in the lunchroom."

"I don't have a problem with that, but why?"

"Do you have any proof that there really is a twin?" she asks. "We already know that Brian is deceitful, with or without a twin brother. There is a possibility that there's no twin, that it is just Brian and there is someone else who operates the cameras, or maybe there's another explanation for the zoom control."

"I have no proof. I just took him at his word, which I guess is pretty foolish considering his track record. It never occurred to me that the twin business might be a lie."

"I'm a natural skeptic. Now let's get dressed. We have some planning to do," she says, taking charge.

It turns out that 'planning' consists of figuring out how to communicate Angie's bondage fantasies to the twins. There is no malware on her computer, or at least none that will allow Brian or Connor to snoop. Suddenly an idea occurs to me.

"I'll rename the 'Recipe' file on my computer as Carla's Fantasies and create a second file we'll call Angie's Fantasies. That'll be pretty hard for them to misunderstand. You comb through the stories on the site and put copies in your file. I've already told them I want back in the game, so they will be poking around in my laptop pretty soon. When they find your folder, they'll know what you want them to do to you."

"Perfect!" Angie exclaims. "I'd better get busy."

"Take your time. I have some stuff I can do around the apartment. You hunt down some stories and then we'll go out for a nice lunch."

An hour later, Angie has copied half a dozen stories into her file and aroused herself to the point where she either needs to stop reading or dig out one of her vibrators. Exercising great self-control, she prints out her three favorites and hands them to me.

"Read these," she orders, "and tell me what you think."

I think her bondage fantasies are a little edgier than mine, relying more heavily on spankings and whippings. But she likes restraints, anal experimentation, and quirky fucking machines just like those in my stories. I find all three stories very arousing, so we are soon naked again and taking care of each other with various implements from our supply of sex toys.

"Oh fuck that was good," I declare when we finish. "Thank you."

"And thank you, but we need to stop this or we'll be too sore to do anything tonight. Let's get dressed again and get out of here. All of a sudden I'm starving."

"Me too. There's nothing more we can do until the new folders in the laptop catch their attention. We just have to sit back and wait."

Angie and I have a great lunch and then go shopping. She is concerned that she has nothing to compare with the dress I wore to my two bondage sessions. By late afternoon she has purchased two items that satisfy her sense of style. She is dazzlingly beautiful in both and each ensures that the twins will have easy access to her body. 

Dinner is a nice affair with candles and soft music. After coffee and brandy, we decide to deploy the sleep sofa and watch the videos again. The scenes have the expected effect and we end up back in my bedroom.

A half hour or so later I am sitting with my back against the brass headboard, each outstretched wrist lashed to a bar with one of my scarves. My knees are drawn back with my legs widely splayed. Angie is sitting cross legged in front of me working a dildo in and out of my pussy and putting the finishing touches on my clit with one of her little vibrators. I cum for the second or third time with a shriek, my breasts heaving and my legs shaking as my pussy rhythmically clenches the dildo.

"Oh God! Enough," I cry, certain that I can't handle any more stimulation tonight.

"I'm not quite finished for the night. Will you do me a favor?" she asks softly as she unties my hands.

"Of course, honey. What would you like me to do?"

"Straighten out your legs," she tells me. I am puzzled but I do as she asks. When I have complied, she positions her body so she is lying across my lap.

"Spank me," she says softly.

"Oh Angie, are you sure? I don't want to hurt you."

"I'm sure. I'll let you know how hard I want it."

I take a deep breath and slap her fanny a few times, but not very hard.

"Harder," she commands. "And don't stop." I do as she asks, my palm striking her flesh with more force.

"Harder," she orders. "Faster." Once again I do her bidding. Even in the muted light of the bedroom I can see that her skin is turning a bright pink. I back off. I don't want to hurt her.

"Don't stop! Don't stop! I'm gonna cum!" she cries, grinding her pubic mound into my thigh. I return to the level I was using before. Just as my hand begins to ache, Angie has a crushing orgasm, screaming her release into the bed clothing.

She stays where she is for a long time while I gently caress her reddened little butt. Finally she rises to her knees, kisses me, and then snuggles by my side.

"Oh, thank you, thank you. I didn't know that was possible. I've always liked it but had no idea I could actually cum during a spanking."

Before I can think of what to say, she slips a hand in between my thighs and I lose my ability to concentrate. Apparently I can handle more stimulation after all. It is well after midnight when we fall asleep holding hands, completely exhausted.

Dinner at my parent's house is very nice. My brother and his family are there, as is one of Angie's Episcopalian priest brothers with his wife and two kids. My father is in rare form, telling one corny joke after another. Mom is thrilled to have such a large gathering.

As we eat, I study my family. I love them dearly and I know they love me, but I take perverse satisfaction in knowing they have no idea what I have become. I am a pussy-licking bondage slut, an evolving pussy-licking bondage slut who is more than happy to allow some stranger to tie me up and fuck me. And I am dragging my de facto sister down the slippery slope with me. I start to get wet sitting at their dinner table when I think of the future. I have to force myself to think about something else. I glance over at Angie and receive a little Mona Lisa smile that tells me she has just read my mind.

****

Angie and I arrive at work a few minutes early and I place a trouble call. I explain to her that the twins have two cousins who work for them. Cousins are not what we want.

A few minutes later, one of the twins arrives and we beckon him into the lunchroom.

"Grab a cup of coffee and have a seat," I tell him and point to the table. "Which one are you?"

"Brian," he says, as he fills a cup and sits down. We do the same.

"Let me see your driver's license," Angie demands. She has come up with something that never crossed my mind. Suddenly I am hopeful that we are really seeing Connor. That would clear up a lot in a hurry. It seems highly unlikely that they would swap licenses like they do shirts.

Brian grins, pulls out his wallet, removes his license, and slides it across the table to Angie who studies it like it's the Magna Charta before she hands it over to me.

"Okay, here's the deal," Angie begins. "I understand Carla has already told you she wants back in the game. I want in too..."

"Great!" he interrupts, obviously thrilled at the prospect of fucking the gorgeous little Italian bombshell.

"...but we have some stipulations."

Brian looks slightly less enthusiastic for a moment but recovers soon enough.

"Okay, what are they?"

'First of all, we want to meet with you and Connor together. Tonight."

"That can be arranged," he agrees immediately. "What else?" I am relieved. If Connor doesn't exist, Brian would hardly be so agreeable.

"We want proof that you both have been tested recently for HIV and other STDs."

"We use condoms, so why do you care?"

"Condoms break occasionally," she responds with a steady stare.

"Well, it's not a problem. We are tested regularly by the National Guard. Our most recent test was about a month ago and neither of us has been with anyone other than Carla for a long, long time. We can get copies of the test results. Will that do?"

"Yes," I reply, finally joining the conversation. "We will have ourselves tested after work today. Both of us know we are okay, but it's only fair that we be able to prove it to you. Afterward, we can discuss whether or not to continue condom use."

I am shocked at myself, nonchalantly discussing condoms and STDs in the lunchroom as though we are conducting a sex education class. I feel myself starting to blush.

"Okay. Now about tonight," Brian says, "Connor and I own a home together. Carla has the address from the check I wrote. Please come at seven o'clock. We won't have time to prepare a proper meal, so we'll pick up something nice from the deli."

"You told me last week that you and Connor share everything. Do you sleep in the same bed?" I ask, unable to resist yanking his chain a little.

"Of course not. We each have our own bedrooms with private baths, individual razors, and personal toothbrushes," he answers good-naturedly. "Anything else you'd like to know?"

"Nope. Angie?"

"That'll do for now," she answers. "We'll see you at seven. Can we bring anything?"

"Just yourselves, and dress appropriately," he says with a wink and a grin in my direction.

Brian departs but Angie and I linger over our coffee.

"Good call on the driver's license," I tell her.

"Ditto on having ourselves tested. I haven't done that since I dumped the shithead who used to spank me. Turned out he was unable to keep his dick in his pants when we weren't together."

"I haven't been tested recently either. There's a clinic a couple of blocks away that does the tests. It takes about fifteen minutes and we'll have the results before the end of the week."

"Good. Where do these guys live?" she asks.

"I did a drive-by when I got the copy of that check. They live in a nice neighborhood a few miles north of my apartment. It'll be more convenient for you if you drop by my place about six forty five. I'll drive us over."

"That'll work. Now, let me change subjects. I picked up on the 'dress appropriately' comment. Do you think they will try anything tonight?"

"I doubt it. As cool as Brian appeared, I know we caught him by surprise. I think they'll play everything straight. After all, the last thing they want is for us to change our minds. But just in case, I'm dressing conservatively."




On a Slippery Slope Ch. 04



"Good," she replies, "I'll do the same. Lunch today?"

"Sure, if you're buying," I say with a grin.

"After the weekend you just treated me to, I'm more than happy to pick up the tab."

Lunch is nice. It is cool enough to dine outside at our favorite local eatery. The rest of the day goes quickly. I get hung up for a few minutes after the workday so I get to the clinic just as Angie is leaving. She spots me, grabs her arm, and grimaces in mock pain.

"Oh God that hurt!" she cries, knowing I am a big baby about needles. I give her a raspberry and enter the building.

****

Angie arrives right on time. We take a couple of minutes to critique each other's clothing and agree that we did it just right. No cleavage showing and no leg visible above the knees. We both are wearing heels, but they are the type we wear to work. After pronouncing each other fit to proceed, we hop in my car and head for the address I still have stored in my GPS from the drive-by.

"If they live in a man cave with dirty bathrooms I'm leaving," Angie announces, making me laugh out loud.

When we pull up in front of the house there are two identical Camaros in the driveway. I park at the curb and we exit the car. Before we can get to the porch, the door opens and one of the twins appears.

"Hi ladies. Welcome. Please come in," he says and gestures with a flourish.

Angie and I step into a large, beautifully finished greatroom, complete with a pair of very handsome twins, casually dressed and grinning from ear to ear.

"I'm Connor," one of them says as he steps forward. "Brian told me about the driver's license thing this morning. Here's mine."

"That doesn't prove shit," Angie says. "You could have swapped licenses."

But his gesture breaks the ice. We all have a good laugh and then they offer us a tour. The house is a lot cleaner than my apartment and much more tastefully furnished and accessorized. The twins obviously have style. Their bedrooms are masculine but very different from one another. All the bathrooms pass Angie's not-so-subtle inspection. We end up in a gourmet kitchen and Connor, I think, offers to bartend.

"We drank cosmopolitans all weekend. I think I'd like a martini," I say.

"Me too," says Angie.

"Martinis coming up," Brian replies, "We'll make a pitcher. Why don't you both have a seat at the breakfast bar and talk to us while we prepare the libations."

"Your house is really very nice, particularly for a couple of bachelors," Angie announces.

"The furnishings belonged to our parents, and the cleanliness is the work of Rosa, our housekeeper," says Brian. "Without her, things would be a lot messier. We aren't slobs, but we aren't fond of housework either."

"Do you fuck Rosa too?" Angie asks with a wicked smile, causing both men to choke on their drinks. I think it is Connor who recovers first.

"Lord no! She was our parent's housekeeper before they were killed in an accident a few years back and she decided to stay employed with us. She's a grandmother and she holds black belts in at least two martial arts disciplines. We're both scared shitless of her."

"I'm sorry to hear about your parents," I say, thinking of my lie to Mrs. Wilson. "The same thing happened to Angie's folks when she was in the sixth grade. Her oldest brother raised her."

"And look what a good job he did," she quips, smiling radiantly at the twins, "with a lot of help from Carla's parents."

The rest of the evening goes very well. The deli fare is excellent and we talk about everything but what is on all our minds. Finally, I decide to nudge the conversation where I think it needs to go.

"We've been avoiding this topic all evening," I begin, "so we have a few things that need to be discussed. But before we get started, I have a question for Brian."

"Shoot," he says.

"You asked me out last week and told me that you have been attracted to me for a long time. What took you so long and why did you choose to do it then? I thought it was because Mrs. Wilson's place was no longer available so the game was over, but apparently you and Connor were already working on another place."

"It's true. I have been attracted to you and to Angie as well. So has Connor..."

"Then why didn't you morons just ask us out?" Angie interrupts.

"...and we were within a day or two of asking you both out," Conner resumes, "when your laptop failed. Brian's attention got diverted and he pulled the malware stunt. Suddenly the whole thing started to get a life of its own."

"So why the timing last week?" I ask.

"A lot of reasons. Connor and I both wanted to spend more time with you, we wanted you to know that we were setting up a new place, and we were hoping to find a way to get Angie involved."

"And here I am," announced Angie with a serious look on her face. "So now what?"

"I...uh...I..." Connor stammers.

Uncharacteristically, I decide to take charge.

"I set all this in motion when I put those stories on my computer. Brian saw an opportunity and took it. I enjoyed myself immensely and I'm certain you guys did too. I want you to know that you unleashed something from deep inside me that I did not know existed. I was pissed off when I found out I had been tricked by twins, but now I am pleased. I am even more pleased that Angie wants to be involved. After I showed her the videos, something happened between us that unlocked another door. What happened is none of your business, but we are both grateful. Brian told me last week that you guys are about a month away from having the new place ready to go. Is that still a good estimate?"

"Probably less. We both have been moonlighting at the computer store, under the 'Brian' name, because we like the work and nothing much else was going on in our lives. Since it appears that is changing, I gave notice last week. By next weekend we will be devoting all our spare time to the new place. I am Brian, by the way, in case you've lost track," he finishes with a smile.

"I thought you needed the money to support expensive hobbies," I said, remembering our first conversation at the computer store.

"Our folks left us very well off when they died. We were just working there to fill the time."

"How would you ladies like to handle this from here on," Connor asks, apparently regaining his composure and trying to maneuver the discussion back on track.

"Angie only knows what I've told her and shown her on the videos. I think, for the time being at least, that we should continue as though nothing has changed since my last encounter with you guys, but with a few exceptions."

"And they are?" asks Brian.

"Angie and I arrive at the new place together every time. We don't want to participate together, at least not yet, but we arrive and leave together. I'd prefer that you continue to communicate by note card, disguise your voices, and continue the charade just as before, including your departure before ours when it's all over for the evening. I found all that mysterious and sexy. I also want to dispense with the hood. I like the mask because being unable to see you adds a great deal to my pleasure, but the hood sucks."

"Me too," Angie announces. "I loved what I saw on the videos but I was a little put off by the hood."

"Agreed," Brian and Connor say in unison. "To everything."

"And one more thing," I continue. "When was the last time you snooped through my computer?"

"Last night," Brian replies, "And yes, we saw the new folders. We also know about the website."

Angie involuntarily grins and clasps her hands together, secure in the knowledge that the twins now know what sort of bondage experience she is looking for.

"Anything else," asks Connor.

"One last thing," I respond. "I'm tired of the twin shtick except when we're doing the bondage stuff. Neither of us cares which one of you is doing us during sex. But otherwise, no more tricks. We don't mind that only 'Brian' works on our office computers, but don't lie to us again about which twin we're talking to."

"Okay. I'm Connor. When I say I'm Connor, you can take it to the bank."

"Ditto for ole Brian here," says Brian. "Now, is there anything else bothering you?"

When Angie and I both shake our heads, he offers us a nightcap. We conclude the evening with Irish coffee and then excuse ourselves. Just as we are ready to depart, Brian, or maybe Connor gives me two CDs. I stare at them blankly and then realize what they are.

"You assured me that I have the only copies!" I spit out sharply.

"You do have the only copies," he says. These are the originals which show our faces. Now you have everything."

My anger slips away quickly. "Would you like to make copies for yourselves? I don't mind."

"Only with your permission," he says. I hand the videos back to him.

"Make your copies and get those back to me later," I tell him with a smile.

The twins walk us to my car because it's now dark outside. Chivalry is not dead. On impulse, I kiss each of them on the cheek and Angie follows suit.

"You'll be hearing from us," one of the twins calls out as we pull away from the curb.

****

Now we wait.

On Thursday we get our test results, all negative as expected, and mail copies to the twins the next morning.

There is a letter in my box the following Monday that displays my name and address in the familiar block printing. It is not the high quality buff colored stationary I am hoping for. Inside are copies of the twin's test results from a month earlier. All are negative. Angie calls to tell me she has received the same information. We gleefully decide to tell the twins they can ditch the condoms when we show up at the new place for the first time.

Angie and I get together each of the next two weekends for sex. We are becoming increasingly inventive. At her suggestion, we order a butt plug, a strap-on dildo, some handcuffs, and a cat o' nine tails through the internet. We vow not to use them until after we see what the twins have planned for our first encounter at the new location; as long as they don't take too long getting us to that point.

On Tuesday of the third week, I run into Brian or Connor in the hallway. Angie is nowhere in sight.

"Listen to me," I say, "I'm going to do this only once. It will never happen again. I am interceding on Angie's behalf. I want her first experience to be perfect. I don't know what you guys have planned for her, but I think she will be disappointed if she isn't spanked or whipped with the cat during her first visit. She will let you know how hard she wants it if you start out gently. And for the record, if you are planning anything like that for me and you hurt me, I'll scream my safe word loud enough to wake the dead."

"I get the picture," he says, smiling. "Thanks for the tip, and we never had this conversation."

"We certainly did have the part about hurting me," I reply poking him in the stomach with my index finger. He is still chuckling as he goes down the hallway.

On Friday evening of the third week, I find a padded envelope in my mailbox and rip it open before I even go inside. Two DVDs and a small buff colored card are inside. I know the DVDs are the originals from my first two encounters.

"Be at the address below at exactly seven tomorrow night. You know what to wear. Bring your friend. When you arrive, the door will be unlocked. Open the door, stop just inside, and lock the door behind you. Remember your safe word. Do not masturbate tonight," is printed on the card in the familiar block lettering.

My hands are shaking so hard I have trouble reading the address. I don't know the exact location of the place, but I am familiar with the area. It is not within walking distance and it's far enough away from my apartment and Angie's that we won't have to worry about parking a car nearby.

My cell phone chirps and I see that the call is from Angie.

"I got a note!" she yells, forcing me to pull the phone away from my ear.

"Calm down and read it to me," I tell her. After a few moments she settles down and reads the note out loud. It's basically the same as mine except hers says 'dress appropriately.'

"Okay, try to stay calm. I'll help you get prepared tomorrow and we can talk about everything. I know exactly what to do. Everything will be just fine. Get some sleep and I'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay, but I am so excited I don't think I can sleep."

"Would you like me to come over? I can bring my stuff and we can leave from your place tomorrow night."

"Oh yes! Please!"

"I'll be there in a little while."

I gather casual clothing for tomorrow during the day; my bondage outfit, make up, a little nightie, and my favorite toys. I already keep basic grooming items at her apartment.

A beaming Angie meets me at the door waving her note.

"I am so excited!" she exclaims, literally bouncing up and down. "Help me figure out what to wear."

"Let's order a pizza or something first. I'm starving."

"Pizza! Pizza? Are you crazy? I'll gain two pounds over night! I'll make us a nice salad instead."

"Okay, okay, but do you have anything worth drinking in the house other than tap water?" I ask, knowing full well that she always has a nice selection of red and white wines.

"I guess I can find something if I root around under the sink," she replies with a grin.

We have dinner with more than a little wine, and then get down to the business of her outfit for tomorrow night.

"I think it's pretty simple," I tell her. You saw what I was wearing when I started my little strip tease at the beginning of the first video. I heard nothing from The Voice, so I have to assume the twins enjoyed the show and liked what they were seeing. I recommend that you do the same thing; slowly give them a good look at what they are going to fuck a little while later."

"You were very, very sexy when you were stripping," she says. "I'm not sure I can do as well."

"You'll do just fine. With your body, you'll have them drooling before your bra comes off. Do you have a bra what hooks in the front?"

"Of course. Doesn't everybody?"

"Probably. Let's see yours."

Angie pulls three of them out of her underwear drawer along with four or five pair of panties. I sort through them and select a red bra and a pair of delicate lacy panties to match.

"Put these on," I tell her. Moments later she pulls the panties into position and clasps the bra around her perfect breasts.

"Now let's choose a dress for you. Where are the two you bought a couple of weeks ago?"

She brings them both out. Either one will work nicely, but I encourage her to select the red sleeveless one that buttons up the front like my dress. Hers is tartier than mine, showing her shoulders, much more cleavage, and leaving most of her splendid legs exposed.

"Why that one?" she asks.

"Because it's perfect for a strip tease. The other one zips up the front. It's a little harder to prolong things with a zipper. This little number has only eight buttons, but you can drag things out by undoing them slowly. Now let's take a look at your shoes."

Angie has about as many pair in her closet as I have in mine. I know what I'm looking for. She has always dressed a little more provocatively than I, so I'm looking for something with a come-fuck-me flavor in red. She has four or five pair of red heels but I spot what I'm looking for immediately. They are very similar to the ones I have worn to both my bondage sessions except they have one additional strap that encircles her ankle.

"These are perfect," I announce. "You can make a production out of undoing that strap."

"I'll look like Little Red Riding Hood" she counters with a giggle.

"You'll look like a very beautiful, very sexy young woman who can't wait to be blindfolded, tied up, and fucked half to death. Now put everything on so we can check you out."

A couple of minutes later, she is standing in front of her full-length mirror with me behind her. She is perfect. I fluff up her hair a little and then run my hands down her hips to straighten the hem of a dress that barely conceals her panties.

"One of the twins is really in for a treat tomorrow night," I tell her as I turn her around.

"Do you think that's what they'll do, just divvy us up?"

"Probably. When it was just me, they were able to trade places quickly without me having a clue there were two of them. I have no idea what the new place will be like, but I'm betting they'll draw our names out of a hat, or flip a coin, or some other dumbass thing and then stick with the outcome for the night. Next time, they'll swap."

"What makes you think so?"

"Both of them have fucked me. Unless they both get to fuck you tomorrow night, one of them will have to wait until next time. Whoever he is will be so anxious to be with you that he won't allow another element of chance."

"We'll never know who is doing us, will we?"

"That's pretty much the point, don't you think?"

"Oh yeah," she says with a wide grin. "Oh yeah."

Ten minutes later we are in the shower, gently lathering every inch of each other's bodies. By the time we dry off, we are pretty revved up. I put on the little nightie I brought while Angie dons a sexy little thing of her own.

"The note says we aren't supposed to masturbate," she reminds me with a small smile.

"I have no intention of allowing you to," I counter with a grin. "But they will ask us tomorrow night and we'll tell them we did. I lied to them the first two times, but I think they want us to disobey them. They've read your favorite stories and they know you want to be spanked. Disobeying them will probably help your cause."

"Oh Carla, you are so devious," she says as she moves into my arms. We spend the next hour or so making it unnecessary for either of us to masturbate and then fall into a deep sleep.

We sleep late the following morning, not stirring until a little after nine. We have a light breakfast and try to stay busy. I am a little nervous, but Angie is a basket case. I am glad to be with her. I had to endure the day of my first bondage encounter by myself and it was a lonely, frightening experience. I can't keep her from being nervous, but I can provide support.

I am able to distract her a bit by running a few errands and sitting down to a light lunch. I explain to her that we won't have dinner before meeting the twins but we will be famished afterward. We go shopping for a while, stopping by a drug store for the little pre-mixed saline enema kits they sell. We know from my experience that they are likely do something anal, even on Angie's first night.

We start our preparations at four o'clock with the enemas and take showers. We'll shower again at six o'clock, shaving our legs and underarms and touching up what little pubic hair we have left. Angie gets more nervous by the minute. I hold her and reassure her that she is in for the night of her life.

We shower on schedule and do our hair. It is time to get dressed. We each take a turn in front of her mirror and inspect each other carefully. We are ready.

I drive. Angie is far too anxious to control a car. My GPS tells me it'll take us twelve minutes to cover the five miles to our new bondage venue. We pull away from the curb at six forty five.

"You saw my videos. I think we can expect everything to be similar when we arrive. The Voice will give us our instructions. Because this is your first time, you will get the little lecture about being there of your own free will," I tell her.

"What do you think the layout will be?" Angie asks.

"I don't know, but they probably looked for a place like Mrs. Wilson's where there were separate rooms. My guess is that they prepared a room for each of us which means they'll separate us soon after we arrive. We won't see each other again until it's all over and they have departed. They will release our restraints before they go, or at least enough of them so we can finish the job. And remember, my first session was just slightly more than an hour and the second slightly less."




On a Slippery Slope Ch. 04



We pull up in front of a small building that is not a house. It might have been a retail establishment at one time. Now it appears to be empty as it sits in the small lot. I can't see any lights inside. I park in front of the building, give Angie's hand a squeeze, and we approach the doorway.

We enter as instructed and find ourselves in an entryway with a long hall ahead of us. There is a door at the far end. The building is much larger than it appears from outside. Spotless linoleum covers the floors. The hallway is lined on both sides with doorways that apparently lead into separate rooms. I count six of them. Everything is painted white.

"Welcome ladies," says The Voice, startling both of us. "Thank you for being here tonight. We will begin soon."

As expected, The Voice goes through the little 'free will' bit for Angie's sake and then continues.

"Did either of you masturbate last night?"

"Yes," Angie promptly says in a firm voice. I echo her reply.

"We don't have to do what you tell us all the time," I continue argumentatively.

"Ah but you do, ladies. You will both be severely punished tonight for your disobedience," says The Voice, causing Angie to shoot me a little smile. Our little ploy just might work in her favor.

"Do you have any questions?" he asks.

"No," we reply in unison.

"Any requirements?"

"Just one," I reply, "Skip the condoms." Out of the corner of my eye I see Angie nodding her head in agreement.

"Then it is time for us to proceed. Carla, enter the first room on your left and shut the door behind you. Angie, you take the room to the right and close the door. You will be given further instructions when you are inside."

Angie and I join hands for just a second, give each other a quick hug, and enter our respective rooms.

My room is painted white with the same hallway linoleum on the floors. There are two windows but they have been painted over with the same white as the walls. The cameras and speakers are where I expect to find them but they appear to be permanently mounted. Several recessed lights are in the ceiling and pencil spots are mounted in various locations around the room. 

My twin changes the lighting in the room from some remote location. When he finishes, the only remaining light is a recessed unit in the ceiling that is illuminating the very center if the room. Two devices and a small table are featured there. One is the padded arch they strapped me into the last time. I can see that it has been slightly modified. A short plastic or rubber cylinder, perhaps an inch long and rounded at the end, protrudes from the arch above the depressions for my knees, exactly where my clit will be when I am on the arch. A thrill runs through my body at the thought of what that might mean for me tonight.

The second device appears to be a fifty-five gallon oil drum attached horizontally to a very tall pedestal with a heavy base. A three-step ladder is in position to one side. An English riding saddle sits atop the drum with stirrups hanging down. The saddle has been modified; there is a dildo sticking up out of a hole in the center, exactly where my pussy will be. I shiver a little in anticipation as I move closer to examine the device. Directly in front of the dildo there is a hump in the leather, presumably there to stimulate my clitoris when I sit in the saddle.

The small table nearby contains basically the same items it did the last time except for a new device that resembles a TV remote. There is a tube of lubricant, the cat o' nine tails, the mask from my original encounter, and my butt plug. The hood is gone. My knees nearly buckle with excitement.

I pick up the remote and press a button. I hear a noise behind me and turn to find a camera in the corner extending its lens. This is how the twins will control the zoom function now that they'll both be concurrently occupied. My last lingering doubt fades away. There will be no third party operating the cameras.

I am ready to get started so I begin to undo the buttons near my neckline.

"Stop," The Voice commands after a couple of the buttons are released. "Leave the dress alone but take off your shoes." I comply.

"Now mount the horse."

I am ready. I have been getting wet since I entered the room, but the dildo is quite large so I apply a good coating of lubricant to the long thick phallus. I can see some sort of mechanism down inside the drum. I am about to climb aboard a fucking machine.

I go up the steps, put one bare foot in a stirrup, and swing my leg over the top of the saddle to take possession of the stirrup on the other side. I am now standing in the stirrups directly above the dildo. I raise the hem of my dress and slowly lower myself into position, impaling myself on the large cock. I wiggle my ass a little to get more comfortable and discover that my clit is resting nicely against the little hump in the leather.

"Put on the mask."

I do as I'm told but I wonder how I'll be restrained. I have total control; my hands are free and I can rise up in the stirrups whenever I wish.

I hear the door open. My twin's presence is confirmed when he cuffs my wrists behind my back. Seconds later, the stirrups disappear and everything becomes clear to me. I am confined to the saddle by my own body weight and my hands are now of no use. I hear him slide the ladder out of the way. The horse is far too high in the air for me to roll off the saddle if I wish to escape. I am not going anywhere, so I sit there with my legs dangling, waiting for what I know will happen next.

I vaguely hear a mechanical sound and the dildo begins to move. My twin keeps the machine moving at a slow pace for a couple of minutes. It feels wonderful. I begin to squirm a little, rubbing my clit against the little hump as the thick cock moves in and out of my pussy. He notices what I am doing and increases the thrusting speed. I cry out in response so he adds a little more speed.

"Oh God!" I cry as the delicious sensation of an impending orgasm begins to form deep inside me. "Faster!"

He honors my request and the machine's pace picks up sharply, soon fucking me at an astonishing pace that no human male can match. I am grateful for the extra lubricant. I lubricate heavily during sex, but I am no match for this thing without a little help.

I scream something unintelligible as I race toward what will be a shattering orgasm and my twin adds another increment of speed to the fucking machine. I rock my hips frantically to take advantage of the little hump. I am on fire. I go over the edge with a piercing wail, and the machine mercifully slows to a gentle pace. My breathing consists of irregular sobs and hiccups.

But the machine doesn't stop entirely. As I regain my senses, I realize I am about to go another round. I briefly think about using the safe word, but hold off as the machine slowly begins to increase speed once again and I feel my body responding. Within a few minutes I am being fucked at the same energetic pace that resulted in my first orgasm. A minute or two later I am flung over the top once again, my pussy rhythmically clenching the shaft of the wildly thrusting dildo.

And then we start all over again. As usual, I lose count of the orgasms.

I think I briefly lose consciousness. The next thing I am aware of is that the machine has stopped, my handcuffs are gone, and my twin's hands are grasping my waist as he lifts me up off the horse to set my feet on the floor. I sag against him, my legs unable to support my weight. I wrap my arms around his waist and lay my cheek against his chest. It feels good to be held.

As I recover, I realize the rooms are not totally soundproof. I can faintly hear Angie crying out repeatedly across the hall, obviously responding to something very pleasurable that her twin is doing to her.

When I recover enough to stand on my own, my twin guides me over to the arch. I reach out with one hand and recognize the depression for my breasts. I am now oriented. I know what to do, so he releases his hold on me.

I pull my dress up out of the way in front and take my position across the arch. He quickly cuffs my wrists near the handles and straps my legs into position. The new little nub is precisely positioned against my clit. He lifts the hem of my dress and drapes it across the small of my back. I am thrilled to be here. I believe the butt plug will be next. I am wrong.

The cat o' nine tails lashes softly against my butt. I realize I am being 'punished' for disobeying orders, so I raise my face out of the arch and let out a low moan to let him know I approve of my punishment. So far.

The next blow is harder. It doesn't actually hurt, but it stings a little. I am prepared to use the safe word the instant he crosses the line. My twin gradually increases the strength of the blows to a point just below the threshold of real pain. I discover that I like what he is doing and begin to moan and wiggle my ass appreciatively. I decide to look for opportunities to be disobedient in the future.

My whipping goes on for a couple of minutes, although he stops from time to time to run the silken cords over my pussy. I begin to whimper a little. He adds a little more force and I feel a more intense sting from the blows. I decide not to use the safe word unless he goes one step further. He does not, somehow sensing that he has reached my limit. Suddenly the little nub comes alive and starts to buzz my clit. I cum within seconds, screaming with pleasure into the body of the arch. The vibration and the lashing stop. Regrettably, my punishment is at an end. 

He allows me to rest for a minute or two and then I feel him start to insert the butt plug. I am thrilled because he is going to fuck me soon. Knowing what to expect this time around, I relax and feel very little discomfort as the thickest part of the plug enters my rectum. 

In the background, I hear a long muted wail. Angie is cumming, certainly not for the first time.

My twin moves the tip of his cock up and down my slit, probing for the entrance to my pussy. He finds it soon enough and slowly eases himself inside me. I am deliriously happy because I know what will happen the instant he begins to move. The little nub next to my clit begins to vibrate softly and I know that I am about to experience a new facet of the butt plug-cock routine.

He starts slowly at first and very gradually picks up speed. I sense that he is highly aroused and may not last long if he moves too quickly.

He lasts long enough. As before, I enter some sort of continuous orgasmic state as the moving plug matches the tempo he establishes with his cock and the little vibrator does its job. My sensitive nipples are brushing against the padding inside the depression where my breasts are suspended. Very soon I am screaming into the middle of the arch, cumming over and over again.

Just as my mouth starts to form the safe word, my stalker lets out a primitive bellow and I feel his contractions begin. I bite off the word just as he finishes.

I feel him gently lay his torso over my back. He supports most of his weight on his forearms but the closeness feels good to me. Both of our bodies continue to tremble with the aftershocks of our combined orgasms.

A muffled shriek from across the hall tells me that Angie is cumming again.

Several minutes later he withdraws his cock from my pussy, removes the butt plug, and releases my restraints. I remain still, giving him ample time to disappear. When I hear the door open and close, I remove my mask but keep my eyes shut for a minute or two longer. The door across the hall opens and then closes.

After a minute or two I hear a different door open and close far down the hall. The twins are leaving. I get off the arch but stand beside it, steadying myself with my hands. When I know I can stand unaided, I look about the room. A towel has been placed on the table next to the cat and the other items. Cum is oozing down the insides of my legs, so I use the towel to clean myself up and then decide to go check on Angie.

I find her leaning against the wall outside of her room. Her door is ajar. She is naked and barefoot. There is a dazed expression on her face. Cum is slowly running down her inner thighs. I retrieve the towel from my room and crouch down in front of her.

"Open your legs, sweetie," I tell her. She complies and I clean her up as best I can.

"That was the most extraordinary experience of my life," she whispers.

"What part, honey?"

"All of it," she replies, her voice gaining a little strength. I toss the towel back into my room and shut the door.

"Can you walk?" I ask.

"I think so."

"Then let's take a look around," I say and start down the hallway.

"My, my," she says with a giggle, "you must have been a very bad girl."

"What?"

"You have a pretty pink ass. Did you enjoy your punishment?"

"I did," I say, feeling myself blush a little, "and I'm going to disobey the twins as often as I can in the future. Now let's take a look at you. Turn around."

She turns, looking coyly back at me over her shoulder.

"Holy shit!" I exclaim when I see her bright red little butt. She smiles broadly at my reaction.

"As you can see, my twin thought I was extremely disobedient. He made me cum with the cat. I still can't believe that happened. When you spanked me I could rub my pussy against your thigh. I couldn't do much of anything this time but I had an orgasm anyway." she says, now mostly recovered from her experiences, "Let's go explore."

The room next to hers contains the bed from my first encounter with the twins, complete with straps, cuffs, and the slings. The rest of the rooms are empty. The door at the end of the hall opens into a large shop space with lots of tools, supplies, and what looks to be partially completed constraint devices and fucking machines. We're delighted. The twins obviously have additional plans for us.

At the back of the shop is another door that apparently leads outside; probably the twin's escape route. A bathroom at one end of the shop gives us the opportunity to finish cleaning up so we take advantage of it.

Having seen everything there is to see, we head back up the hallway to our rooms. When we get there, Angie stops and places a hand on my arm.

"I wanted to see what's in your room, but I changed my mind. Let's wait for the videos and then watch them together," she suggests.

"Good idea. Let's get dressed and go find something to eat. I'm starving."

A half hour later, we are seated in one of our favorite restaurants, drawing stares from the other late diners because of our attire, particularly Angie's. I find this amusing since I'm the one who isn't wearing any underwear. We ignore them and have a wonderful dinner, talking quietly about our experiences earlier in the evening.

"I want to thank you," Angie says a little later in the meal. "First of all for giving me the opportunity to participate, but mostly for being there when I needed you. You had to go through all that alone, the anxiousness, the self-doubt, fear of the unknown, all of it. I don't know how you managed. I had all those feelings, but you were beside me right up until I stepped through that door. Not only that, but I got to meet the twins beforehand. You had no idea what you were walking into."

"I wanted to share all that with you, but I just couldn't do it. What I was doing seemed so depraved at the time. But I'm glad I was able to be there for you. And now we're in it together and that makes me very, very happy."

"I feel good about it too," she says, reaching across the table to take my hand.

"You know we are going to get another invitation for this coming weekend," I say to her quietly.

"You think so? Why?"

"One of the twins has not yet had the opportunity to fuck you. He won't let that situation stay unresolved for very long. Plus, there was a new device in my room that he'll want to use on you unless he decides on the bed with the slings. Either way, you're in for a wonderful time."

"Well, my twin used something on me that I didn't see in your videos," she says with a mischievous grin. "You're going to like it."

"There you go then. They have what they need for at least one more encounter before they have to develop other ideas," I respond.

"I can't wait for the videos to arrive," Angie says, taking a sip of her after-dinner drink.

"Speaking from experience, we'll probably get them in Tuesday's mail," I reply, "So Tuesday night we should plan on a little party at my place."

****

To be continued...

I encourage readers to vote and comment. Constructive thoughts, suggestions, and criticisms are always appreciated.



On a Slippery Slope Ch. 05



Sunday dinner with my family is a carbon copy of many in the past, except this time Angie and I keep exchanging little glances and secret smiles, both of us thinking about what we experienced just a few hours earlier. From time to time I force myself to think about something else or join in the conversation when I feel myself starting to lubricate. I am certain Angie is doing the same thing.

At the first opportunity, we excuse ourselves and retreat to my apartment so we can watch at least one of the unedited videos of my first encounters with the twins. Angie has her work clothes with her so she can spend the night.

I let her choose and she decides to watch the first one because it features the leg slings that she has yet to experience.

"Let's play with ourselves but not touch each other tonight. I want to save that for Tuesday when we have all new unedited material," she suggests. I agree with her.

"Would you like to borrow a vibrator or dildo?" I ask.

"I think I'll just use my fingers. It'll be like old times," she responds. "Can you imagine if we had known then what was in store for us?"

"Oh Lord! Our little brains wouldn't have been able to deal with it," I answer with a smile as I hit the play button.

We are both enthralled. I have watched this video countless times, but with no editing we are being treated to a lot of material that was cut from the copy I was given.

The first surprise is both twins entering the room together. They are naked and both are sporting impressive erections. My strip tease must have sparked their interest.

One of the men fastens my restraints while the other retrieves the cat o' nine tails from its hook on the wall. While that twin begins to run the silken ropes over my body, the other is taking measurements with a cloth tape close to where the ropes are tracing my skin.

"Well, shit!" I exclaim. "That's how they did it."

"Did what?" Angie asks.

"The arch they built for me fits like a glove. I couldn't figure out how they got everything exactly right. I had no idea there was more than one guy in the room and the tape just felt like one of the ropes on the cat. I'm impressed."

"They built an arch for me too," Angie offers, "and it also fit perfectly, but they never had an opportunity to measure me."

I am five-five while Angie is three inches shorter. All our height difference is in our legs. The rest of our bodies are the same size and we have been swapping clothes for years. The only difference is that a knee-length dress on her exposes more leg on me.

"No," I tell her, "but they have precise info about me and were probably able to study you on the sly to make an accurate estimate of the difference in our height."

Suddenly we are distracted when one twin leaves the room and the other, presumably Connor, buries his face between my thighs and makes me cum. Twice. We then get a good view of his face as he lies alongside me and finger fucks me into another orgasm. He is not wearing a condom. Angie and I are now squirming on the sofa.

We watch, fascinated, as Connor gets out of bed and quietly departs just as Brian enters. Both men are still fully erect but Brian has put on a condom. I notice that they leave the door slightly ajar to avoid making noise. The edited version of the videos only shows the doorway when I enter the room and much later as I leave it to search for my stalker.

One camera captures Brian's face perfectly as he slips his body underneath the spreader bar that is holding my legs wide apart. It is like an all-new video as we watch him ease his magnificent cock into my pussy and slide his arms under my shoulders. Angie pulls the hem of her skirt up out of the way and slides a hand down inside her panties. Glancing over at her with a heavy lidded smile, I do the same. Within seconds we are working on our pussies with experienced fingers.

Brian fucks me for a long time and his face is visible throughout most of our encounter. Toward the end, when he is pounding himself into me and my nipples are dancing to his rhythm, his face contorts as he loses control. My screams in the video compete with the muffled cries in my living room as Angie and I each clamp a hand over our mouths and cum within seconds of each other.

We are only vaguely aware that Brian is now kissing me and I am eagerly returning his kiss. Moments later, when I become aware of my surroundings, I stop the video.

"Oh God that was good," exclaims Angie, her fingers still moving very slowly inside her panties.

"I'll say," I respond breathlessly. "I needed that. I wanted to do it at the dinner table, but I thought my parents might think that was going a bit too far."

Angie starts to laugh and I join her, both of us responding to the mental picture that forms in our heads. Soon we are laughing uncontrollably and rolling about on the sofa like a couple of kids.

We decide to have a glass of wine and calm down before we watch the second video. Later, when I hit the play button, Angie is fascinated by all the anal activity that Brian has initiated. Then Connor fucks me with the butt plug in place. She cums twice before I use the safe word, forcing Connor to withdraw his cock and remove the plug. Moments later he carries me across the hall to place me on the bed. I hold back on my orgasm so I can cum as I watch him explode inside me several minutes later.

****

Monday starts out as a drag but then Brian and Connor, one at a time of course, find reasons to appear in our office spaces. Connor searches me out and identifies himself. From the way he is acting, I conclude that he's the one who fucked me on Saturday night. Later in the day, Angie reports the same suspicion about Brian.

But then we decide we aren't sure. Are they checking us out after they fucked us, or checking us out before trading places and fucking us this coming weekend? We are certain they will swap the next time, so we change our minds. And then change them back again. The only thing we know for sure is that one of the twins has not yet had the pleasure of doing Angie. Whoever he is, he must be ready to burst into flames by now.

Brian drops by for coffee the following morning and Connor makes an appearance in the afternoon. We are happy to see them, but our attention is riveted on the videos we're certain to find in our mailboxes when we get home. But there is nothing of note in either box. Tuesday has let us down.

Wednesday is a different story. We see no sign of Brian or Connor during the day, but our mailboxes are stuffed with goodies when Angie and I get home from work. We are on the phone together within seconds. We each have a video and a note. My note says the usual and tells me that I know what to wear. Angie's makes a point of telling her to skip the underwear. We are both told not to masturbate on Friday and to show up at seven sharp Saturday night.

"Wanna watch this stuff tonight?" Angie asks a little breathlessly.

"Oh, I don't know. I had all that scheduled for last night. Tonight I have other plans," I reply, grinning into the phone.

"No you don't, you liar!" squeals Angie.

"Well, let me check my calendar again. Oh my, I was looking at the wrong week. I can accommodate your request after all."

"Bitch!" she says with a laugh. "I'll stop by the deli on my way over."

Angie arrives in record time; her face flushed with excitement, and drops a grocery sack on the kitchen table. Returning to her car, she reappears moments later with her overnight bag.

"I brought my work clothes for tomorrow. I doubt I'll be going home tonight," she says, smiling broadly at me.

"I doubt it too," I reply, smiling back at her, struck again by how beautiful she is, particularly when she gets excited. Just looking at her is getting me aroused.

We take our time with dinner, deliberately talking about everything except the videos and what they will incite later in the evening. Eventually I can't stand it anymore.

"Go jump in the shower," I tell her. "I'll join you in a couple of minutes."

I don't have to tell her twice. She's off like a shot. I throw the remnants of dinner in the trash, unfold the sofa bed, strip off my clothes and step into the steamy enclosure. As usual, this is foreplay for us and we are soon in a fever pitch but careful not to take things too far.

We dry off, make a few passes with the hairdryer, and put on our nighties. She is wearing pale yellow to set off her olive Mediterranean skin. I have chosen green.

"Which one should we watch first?" I ask.

"I don't know. Let's do what the twins apparently do and flip a coin."

I fish around in my purse and come up with a quarter.

"Call it in the air. If you are right, we watch your video first," I say and flip the coin high in the air.

"Tails!"

I let the coin fall to the carpet and we both peer down at it. Tails it is. I hold out my hand for her video which she retrieves from her overnight bag. Setting the system up only takes a few seconds so we are soon sitting side by side on the sofa bed with our backs against the cushions. I hit the play button.

Angie is standing near the middle of the room, staring at what the twins have prepared for her. I recognize the bondage arch. It is identical to mine except it has not yet been modified to provide the small vibrator above the recesses for her knees. I suspect that the twins wanted to test it on me first. Based on the results of my encounter with the little nub, her arch has probably been modified already in preparation for Saturday night.

It is the other device that captures my attention. The twins have found an authentic gynecological examining table somewhere, complete with the little stool the doctors sit on before they roll up between a patient's legs. But this one has a peculiar looking addition. It looks like a gate which has been swung out of the way on massive hinges attached to one side at the end of the table. I lean forward to study the contraption. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Angie studying me, obviously interested in my reaction.

A flat plate has been welded to the topmost bar of the gate. An enclosure that resembles a Quonset hut is fastened to the plate. A small camera is mounted on top. A heavy steel rod protrudes from one end. One of the wall-mounted cameras suddenly zooms in on the device and I realize that a large dildo has been attached to the end of the rod.

"Oh, my!" I exclaim when I realize I'm looking at a horizontal fucking machine. From somewhere in the building, Angie's twin activates the machine and the large cock moves slowly back and forth with a stroke of six or seven inches. The machine stops, having provided enough of a demonstration for Angie to get the picture. I get the picture too. That thing is going to fuck her brains out later in the video.

There is a small table near the machine that has a mask, a cat o' nine tails, a hand towel, and a tube of lubricant. I note that there is no butt plug but say nothing to Angie.

"Remove your clothing," orders The Voice, and Angie begins the sexiest strip tease I have ever seen. She struts around the room examining the table and the arch, slowly undoing one button at a time until her dress falls open to reveal her red bra and panties. She slowly peels the dress off her shoulders and tosses it aside. Sashaying up to one of the cameras, she looks up into the lens with a radiant smile and unhooks her bra. Perfect breasts with alert nipples dominate the screen.

Tossing her bra in the general direction of the dress, she struts back into the middle of the room, turns toward one of the cameras, and eases her panties down over her elegant legs. As I had done, she gracefully steps clear and leaves them where they are. Then she does an astonishing thing.

Turning to face a different camera with her feet about eighteen inches apart, she puts the middle finger of one hand in her mouth, then removes it, slides the hand down her stomach, and eases the finger inside her pussy.

I'm about to go wild watching her. I can only imagine what her twin was feeling, knowing he had won the toss, or whatever, and would soon be fucking her. Whatever he was thinking, The Voice did not utter a word.

Angie slowly removes her finger, brings her hand up to her pouting lips, and slips the finger into her mouth.

"You little slut," I whisper. Angie just smiles at me.

After removing her finger, she struts back over to the table, picks up the tube of lubricant, squeezes a generous blob into her hand and turns to the large dildo at the end of the fucking machine's shaft. After smearing lube on the appendage she spends half a minute giving the large cock a hand job, smiling all the while up at each of the cameras in turn.

Apparently satisfied that she now has everyone's attention, she wipes her hand on the towel and strolls back to the little stool. Placing one foot on the seat, she slowly unbuckles the strap around her ankle, removes the shoe, and sets it aside on the table. Repeating the process with the other shoe, she hooks one finger through the straps of both and struts back across the room to drop them on top of her dress.

Angie had just taken a full four or five minutes to disrobe. At most, it had taken me two minutes and I thought I had done a pretty good job of holding the twins attention.

"Get up on the table, place your feet in the stirrups, and put on the mask." directs The Voice. There is more distortion than usual which leads me to believe that her twin is having trouble talking. Angie does as she's told and is soon lying on the table just as she would be in the doctor's office except she is completely naked and undraped. When she is comfortable, she lifts the mask up, winks at the camera, and puts the mask back in place.

I pause the video and give the remote to Angie. It's her show.

"Un! Fucking! Believable!" I exclaim. "What a performance! I can't believe your twin didn't have to jerk off watching that."

"He didn't," Angie replies, as she restarts the video. "I can assure you. You'll see in a few minutes."

Seconds later we see her twin enter the room, naked and fully erect. He approaches the table and begins to restrain her with ropes I hadn't noticed before. I was too focused on the fucking machine. He lashes her feet to the stirrups and her hands to either side of the table. A wide belt, similar to the one I experienced the first time, is fastened across her waist. Angie is now at the mercy of her visitor.

He wastes no time. Pulling the stool into place, he sits down, and buries his face between her thighs.

"He went straight for my clit," Angie interjects as her image on the screen immediately cries out. "I was so amped up I think I came in about thirty seconds."

It seems like a lot less than that to me as I listen to my friend vocalize her arousal and watch her body involuntarily buck against the restraints as an explosive orgasm takes control of her body.

Angie's twin gives her no rest, launching her immediately into another short climb toward a second orgasm. She is crying out continuously now and throwing her head from side to side, long hair flying, her legs still shaking from the aftershocks of her first climax. Seconds later, she cums with a shriek.

This time her twin allows her to come down slowly, licking the insides of her thighs and gently stroking the backs of her legs. When her breathing returns to something near normal, he rises from his stool and swings the fucking machine into position on well-oiled hinges.

The mechanism is more complex than I first thought. It is mounted on rails and has several adjustment knobs that he uses to line up the tip of its cock with Angie's pussy. Extending the dildo to the end of its stroke, he energizes the camera on top of the housing, gently makes contact with her, and then slowly pushes it all the way inside by moving the entire apparatus forward. Angie lets out a low moan of pleasure.

As the lubricated cock disappears inside her, I notice a raised nub on top of the shaft directly above the synthetic testicles. Angie pauses the video.

"See that little thing on top of the cock?" she asks. I nod my head, having just figured out why it's there. "I saw it when I was lubricating the dildo and almost climaxed on the spot when I realized what it was. You won't believe how good that thing feels until it's your turn on the table."

The camera perspective is unique. We can see Angie's pussy facing the camera, the insides of her thighs, about six inches of the steel shaft, and the back end of the dildo that is now buried inside her. My forty-six inch TV screen is completely filled with that image.

We watch in fascination as the large cock finishes entering her and the little nub parts the protective hood to make initial contact with her clit. Then the machine slowly begins to do its job, withdrawing until only the tip of the dildo remains inside her pussy and then advancing forward again, picking up a little speed with each stroke and softly bumping the nub against Angie's clit.

Neither of us is a stranger to being fucked, but until the videos featuring the twins, we've never watched it happen to us. That's exciting enough by itself, but what we're watching now is one of the most remarkable things we have ever seen. Porn movies show cocks fucking pussies, but nothing like this.

Over the next minute or two, the cock continues to pick up speed. Angie's moans, cries, and yelps increase in volume and accelerate along with the moving shaft. Soon the cock is fucking her at something like the speed I experienced on the horse, far faster than a human male, but with the added stimulation of her clit by the little nub.

Angie cums with a loud wail but the speeding cock continues to pound into her pussy and she cums again within seconds.

"Oh my God!" she exclaims as she pauses the video and begins to rub her fingers up and down her slit. I don't know what took her so long; I've been doing that for a couple of minutes now.

"I think it was about here that I went into some sort of coma," she continues. "I wonder how many orgasms I had."

We don't find out the answer to that question because we can't tell where one orgasm stops and the next one begins. We do know that the machine fucks her for another couple of minutes and then slows to a stop just as Angie and I cum together side by side on the sleep sofa. Each of us is clamping a hand over our mouths so we can listen as Angie's screams fade into sobs on the video.

One or both of the twins has a sense of humor because the word 'INTERMISSION' appears on the screen. Angie pauses the video so we can both recover.

"Holy shit!" I whisper as I try to slow my breathing down. "I hope they use that thing on me Saturday night."

When our breathing finally slows, Angie restarts the video. The first image is a shot of the empty table with the fucking machine once more pulled off to the side. From somewhere off-screen, Angie lets out a sharp cry.

Another camera takes over and this one displays Angie draped across her arch, strapped and cuffed into place. Her hands are fiercely gripping the handles on the far side. Her twin is wielding the cat o' nine tails, and as we watch, he strikes again.

"Harder," she orders, pulling her face free of the arch. The twin complies, lashing her with more force several times.

"That would be it for me," I declare. "I'd be screaming the safe word like crazy."

"I loved it," she replies. "Watch what happens next."

"Harder," demands Angie on the video again, and the whip comes down with more force.

"This is just about perfect," Angie says, pointing at the image on the screen. "He is working right on the edge of what I can tolerate."

The twin continues for a minute or two as the camera zooms in to focus on her bright red little ass while she squirms and wiggles with pleasure. Even with her face buried in the arch, her cries are clearly audible over my new sound system. A moment later, she pulls her face clear of the arch one more time.




On a Slippery Slope Ch. 05



"Harder!" she cries. "Harder!"

He does as she demands, but only strikes her a few more times before Angie lets out a piercing cry and has a thunderous orgasm, bucking and struggling against her restraints. The lashing stops immediately and her cries quickly taper off to erratic sobs and hiccups, her face now pressed once again into its opening in the arch.

Her twin sets the cat aside on the table and quickly steps in behind Angie's widely spread legs. He is stiffly erect and very clearly ready for the final act. Pressing the head of his impressive cock against the entrance to her pussy, he slowly eases inside her hot wetness.

"Oh yes! Yes! Fuck me," the televised Angie demands.

For several minutes he fucks her in every way possible. Short strokes, long strokes, and a variety of penetration angles make me wonder if this might be Brian since the technique was a near copy of the way he fucked me at the end of my first encounter. From the sounds Angie is making, she couldn't care less which twin is providing the service.

Eventually her twin abandons all attempts at creativity, grasps her firmly by the hips and begins to pound his cock into her pussy at a furious pace. Angie announces her approval with a series of sharp yelps as she rockets upward toward another spectacular orgasm, finally going over the edge as he lets out a guttural roar, flooding her pussy with several intense contractions. He slows his pace, then stops altogether and falls forward, his torso resting lightly on her back. As he kisses the nape of her neck, the screen goes blank.

Angie and I are squirming side by side on the sofa bed, each highly aroused by what we have just seen. I pull a pair of vibrating bullets out of my bag of goodies and give one to her. In less than a minute we are screaming once again into the palms of our hands as we cum together, our bodies shaking in unison.

"Oh God," I whisper when I can breathe again. Angie can't talk yet, so she just reaches out to give my hand a squeeze. A minute or two later she recovers.

"Do you realize we have one more video to watch? That was clearly edited down to the important stuff, so I doubt we've been sitting here more than a half hour. And we've already cum twice," she announces.

"I want to watch it, but let's have a glass of wine and rest for a while," I offer. Angie accepts and I get up to pour the wine.

For the next few minutes we relax, talking idly about Angie's experience. Before we know it, our glasses are empty. I take hers, set both aside, get up to insert my video into the home theater system, and press the play button.

"I love horseback riding!" Angie shouts when she sees my oil drum, saddle and dildo on the screen.

"The closest you've ever been to a horse is the merry-go-round at the county fair," I respond, giving her shoulder a playful shove.

"I know," she says "but I can already tell I'm gonna like it."

After that she is speechless for several minutes while she watches what happens to me on the horse. I'm speechless myself. I remember grinding my pussy into the little bump on the saddle as the machine fucks me and I have a vague recollection of zoning out after a couple of orgasms. I do not remember having several more before my twin stops the machine and unclasps my cuffs. I remember being airborne when he picks me straight up off the dildo, but watching him astounds me. He is incredibly strong.

Angie is moaning softly, her hand in between her thighs. When the camera view changes to show my punishment, she stops and reaches over to take my hand.

My punishment is quite tame compared to Angie's but I enjoy watching it for the first time, remembering the sensations of the silken cords striking my ass, the slight stinging sensation very pleasurable. My orgasm surprises Angie and then I remember that her bondage arch has not yet been equipped with the little vibrating nub. I pause the video and explain it to her.

"You told me Saturday night that you liked the whipping. I'm glad you allowed it to continue. It doesn't have to hurt much to be pleasurable. I just happen to like it a little rougher. If you want, I'll be happy to spank you sometime."

"We'll see," I reply, blushing furiously because I have thought about her spanking me a lot since the night I did it to her. To divert her attention, I resume the video.

The butt plug fascinates her. We own one, but haven't used it, so she really has no idea about what to expect. While my twin is fucking me, I try to explain to her how extraordinary it feels to be fucked with the plug in place. But in the end, we both know she has to experience it for herself.

"I want to do it now," she announces hoarsely. "I can't wait until tomorrow night. Since my twin didn't do anything anal to me Saturday night, the other one might not go so far as to use the plug. He'll probably just do that bowling ball grip thing."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure and I prepared before I came over here tonight, just in case we decided to do something really naughty."

"Then I'll trade you," I offer. "We'll use the plug and I'll fuck you with the strap-on. If you like it, you have to finger fuck me, or something, and then you can spank me."

"It's a deal!" she squeals, delighted with my proposal. "But what if I don't like it?" she continues with smile.

"Trust me. You'll like it."

"We don't have a bondage arch. How can we do it?" Angie asks.

"Why don't we just bend you over the dining table?"

"That should work," she says as her breathing quickens. "Can we please get started?"

I take her hand, draw her to her feet, and lead her into my dining alcove.

"Find a comfortable position and I'll be back in a jiffy," I tell her.

I am back in less than a minute with our new butt plug, strap-on dildo, and a tube of lubricant. Angie's torso is lying across the table with her outstretched hands grasping the edges on either side. She has removed her panties. I raise her nightie above her hips and then decide to prepare her by using the bowling ball grip technique with a well-lubricated thumb. She loves it and cums in less than two minutes.

"Oh God!" she cries as her muscles clench rhythmically around my fingers and thumb. "You weren't supposed to do that!"

"Who says?" I say in response as I begin to ease the plug into her ass. "Try to relax. This may be a little painful for a second or two. The more you relax, the more comfortable you'll be."

"I trust you," she replies and then tolerates the intrusion better than I did the first time around.

I have practiced strapping on the dildo a few times just for fun, so I quickly have everything in place. The dildo is smaller than the twin's cocks, but not by much. I smear on a generous coating of lubricant.

"I can't feel anything with this, so you'll have to tell me if I'm hurting you or not fucking you the right way."

"Just do it," she says breathlessly.

I ease the dildo into her pussy and she immediately lets out a low growl. I pause, thinking I might have hurt her.

"Don't stop!" she orders as she pushes back against me. The dildo is now all the way in so I begin to move. Angie cries out immediately but I can tell it's a cry of pleasure so I move faster. In less than a minute I am fucking her fast and hard and she is on her way to a spectacular orgasm. Moments later, she cums with a muffled shriek, her mouth pressed against the table top. I slow to a stop, withdraw the dildo, and then gently remove the plug. Angie starts to sag toward the floor as her knees buckle. I catch her just in time but can't hold her weight so I ease her down onto the floor and then lie down by her side.

"Unbelievable," she whispers, "Fucking unbelievable."

Twenty minutes later she has me on my back in the middle of my bed. Her hot little tongue is darting around my pussy, setting my nerves on fire. I cum with both hands clamped over my mouth, my body quivering with pleasurable spasms of release.

Angie lies by my side while I recover. We hold each other for a while and then she makes an announcement.

"It's time. I want you to cum while you're being spanked, so I'm going to put one of the bullet vibrators inside you. You'll lie across my lap just like I did with you before. I'll spank you only as hard as you allow. It will help you cum if you rub your pussy against my thigh."

I have fantasized about this ever since the night I spanked Angie, so I don't hesitate. I lie across her legs while she slips the vibrator into my pussy and then I do a couple of test moves against her thigh. It all feels good.

"You have been a very naughty girl tonight," she declares as she administers the first slap, "so you will be severely punished."

It takes a couple of minutes to determine how much I can tolerate and still feel pleasure. Soon Angie finds the sweet spot and I am hurtling toward what I know will be an astonishing orgasm as I grind my pubic mound into her thigh.

I cum with a scream into the bedclothes. Angie eases the slapping until her soft fingers are merely brushing my skin. Soon we are lying side by side, holding each other in our arms as we drift off into a deep sleep.

****

The rest of the week is a blur. We are busy at work but still see Brian and Connor on several occasions, exchanging knowing smiles with them each time. One of them is in for a real treat when he gets to fuck Angie on Saturday night. We spend a lot of time trying to speculate about which one it might be. We are no closer to an answer when the weekend arrives.

Surprisingly, the twins ask us out to dinner Friday night and we accept. The meal is great and so is the company, but neither Angie nor I can wrap our heads around the notion that we are sitting across a dinner table from two guys who are going to fuck us senseless tomorrow night but we have no clue which one we'll be with.

Saturday morning arrives. Angie and I meet for breakfast and decide to do our preparations for tonight at my place. We both know what to do, so the only nervousness we feel is just anticipation of the unknown things that will be done to us by the twins. Before we know it, we are approaching the entrance to our bondage site, each of us fairly quivering with excitement.

As before, we are directed to different rooms. As I had hoped, I draw the examining table with its wonderful fucking machine. My bondage arch is nowhere to be seen, but there is a new feature. A double bed has been placed at one end of the room. There are no visible restraints.

Over the next thirty minutes or so, I have the full oral treatment and then get fucked half to death by the machine. As usual, I forget how to count, so I don't know how many orgasms I have. When I am released from the table, my twin carries me over to the bed and gently places me in the middle. I feel his naked body next to mine as he joins me.

The second half of my encounter with this twin is sheer bliss. He makes love to me like I've never experienced before. Unrestrained, I am free to touch him but I keep the mask in place. He uses his fingers, lips, and tongue to explore every inch of my body. By the time he enters me I am vibrating with desire.

Our foreplay took so long that we both cum quickly. I fall into a light sleep with him by my side. I do not feel him leave the bed.

Angie is calling my name. I remove the mask and orient myself in the room. I rise to my feet and cross the room to the door. Angie is standing in the hall, naked and beaming from ear to ear. I feel cum leaking out of my pussy and hurry back inside to grab a towel. We finish cleaning up in the bathroom and then get dressed.

On the way home Angie tells me that there was also a bed in her room. Her twin made her lie on the bed while he gave her a delicious orgasm with his lips and tongue. Then she got to go for a pony ride and had the same experience I had, her legs dangling, helplessly being fucked by the machine into a state of near unconsciousness. She was lifted her off the horse just as I had been and was carried back to the bed. Her experience mirrored mine, her twin making love to her gently but thoroughly.

Angie stays at my place where we talk late into the night about what we experienced. We know that something has changed in our relationship with the twins but can't figure out exactly what it is. We'll just have to wait and see.

****

On Wednesday the twins ask us out for drinks and we accept. We gather around a table in the pub, drinks in hand. As usual, I study the twins very carefully, trying to detect some differences in their appearance. Angie is doing the same thing. I am making some headway and perhaps she is too.

Midway through our second drink, Brian invites Angie and me over to their house for dinner on Friday night. Connor is nodding his head in agreement. Once again we accept, but I find myself wondering why they keep asking us out but only on double dates. When it finally dawns on me, I excuse myself to go to the restroom, knowing Angie will follow my lead. When we are inside, I turn to her.

"They're giving us opportunities to learn how to tell them apart," I begin. "That's why we keep getting the double date routine. And it's working. I can see slight differences; a mole here, a small scar there, and some mannerisms that differ slightly."

"I thought that might be what they're doing," Angie replies, "and I can now tell them apart too. That doesn't help me figure out which one is fucking me when I'm blindfolded, and I don't really care, but it's nice to know the difference the rest of the time. I just wish Brian would ask me out."

"I know that you mean. I've developed a little thing for Connor. I love you dearly, but it would be nice to go out on a regular date and have normal sex afterwards."

"I agree. Let's bring the subject up Friday night and see how they react," Angie suggests and I concur.

When we leave the pub, both of us find videos in our mailboxes. But there is no note. I don't expect one. It takes time for the twins to invent new restraints and set up an encounter.

I grab my work clothes, a nightie, and my little bag of goodies and head for Angie's apartment where we spend the evening watching ourselves get fucked and wearing out our pussies. As good as the videos are, we are not able to tell the twins apart unless we can be close to them in person.

Nonetheless, Angie is convinced that Bryan was her guy. I am a little less certain that Connor was my twin. We both acknowledge that trying to determine who is fucking us is fun, but it's probably a futile exercise. The reality is that both men are wonderful at the bondage thing and neither of us really gives a damn who is doing us in those rooms.

****

Friday arrives and we appear on their doorstep on time. The twins turn out to be wonderful cooks and we have a really nice dinner. Both guys are charming and witty. During the evening, I confirm my ability to tell them apart. 

After dessert and coffee, Angie and I exchange a pre-arranged signal.

"Okay guys," Angie begins, "we have something to discuss with you."

"We both love the bondage encounters," I continue, "but we'd like to have a more normal relationship with you when we aren't doing that."

"If you agree, and would be so kind as to ask us out individually," Angie says, "we'll accept."

"Can you tell us apart yet?" asks Connor.

"Yes," we answer in unison. Our hearts are now in our throats. We are taking a risk here. We have discussed the possibility that we'll each be asked for a date by the wrong twin. Connor looks at me and I nearly faint from the uncertainty.

"Carla," he says, "If you'd do me the honor of having dinner with me tomorrow night, I'd be very happy."

Angie must have been holding her breath because I hear her exhale loudly as Brian makes a similar overture to her.

We can hardly contain ourselves, smiling broadly as we accept their offers, knowing what will happen to us tomorrow night.

****

Angie knocks on my door Sunday morning and we go out to breakfast.

"Well?" I ask her.

"It was absolutely perfect," she declares with a grin. "We had a couple of drinks, a nice dinner, then went to my apartment and fucked like rabbits for the rest of the evening. How about you?"

"The same," I answer with an equally wide smile. "That's the first conventional sex I've had in months. I had almost forgotten what it feels like, but now I'm wondering when we'll get notes in the mail. I don't want to give that part up."

"Me neither," she responds. "Do you think they'll pair up with us like on the dates, or will they continue to flip a coin, or whatever?"

"I don't know and, strange as it sounds, I don't care which twin does me during the bondage routines. Dating Connor and being fucked senseless by either twin in one of those rooms are two entirely separate things."

"I know. I feel the same way. And I imagine the twins would agree. Why on earth would they voluntarily stop screwing both of us?" Angie responds. "That doesn't make any sense at all."

I agree with her and say so.

****

Unexpectedly, we both get notes in the mail on Friday giving us our usual instructions.

"I can't believe they have come up with something new this quickly," offers Angie.

"I don't think they have. I suspect they are trying to let you catch up with my experiences. You haven't had the bed with the slings and they don't know we have already used the butt plug and the dildo on you. I think you'll get both tomorrow night."

"But you won't get anything new," she responds, apparently worried that I won't enjoy myself.

"Doesn't matter. A second round with any of the machines and a half hour or so strapped to my arch will serve nicely."

As usual, we disregard the prohibition against masturbating and have a grand time viewing the most recent videos, playing with ourselves, and pleasuring each other. Our disobedience will surely result in delightful punishment when we admit our indiscretions.

When I enter my room on Saturday night, the double bed is gone. I suspect that Angie's has been removed as well. I conclude that they were a one-time thing so the twins could show us they have intentions that go beyond bondage. Now that we are dating them normally, they have other opportunities to express their emotions. I suspect that all future bondage encounters will be devoted purely to creative restraint, pleasurable punishment, and vigorous fucking. Lovemaking and tenderness will be consigned to our other lives.

My room contains the arch and the horse from my previous session. I am very pleased. Both devices provide incredible pleasure. One change has been made to the assortment of accessories that usually are positioned on the side table. My butt plug has been replaced by a long slim dildo, perhaps eight inches in length and an inch or so in diameter. It has no testicles but it does have a flared base similar to the butt plug. Clearly it was designed for anal use. My knees go weak. I understand the purpose of the dildo and I know how it is going to be used. Unlike the butt plug, it is not a passive device. I will experience a new form of anal sex within the hour.

Unlike my first horseback ride, I am told to undress completely. Soon I am naked and straddling the device with my legs dangling and my breasts heaving in anticipation. Over the next few minutes I enjoy several explosive orgasms.

As before, my twin lifts me clear of the horse and then guides me over to the arch where I receive a pleasurable spanking. Between the spanking and the little vibrating nub, I have another wonderful orgasm. Afterwards I am subjected to bowling ball grip finger fucking and cum again quickly. 

I know what will happen next. My twin slowly inserts the dildo into my ass and spends a couple of minutes fucking me with the instrument. I have never experienced anything like it. 




On a Slippery Slope Ch. 05



Surprising me, he eases his cock into my pussy. Grasping the dildo by its flared base, he begins to move. With both the dildo and his large cock thrusting into me simultaneously, I have several spectacular orgasms from the double penetration, crying out continuously into my arch. They are unlike any I've enjoyed in the past. As usual, I lose count. When it's all over and my twin has left the room, I am unable to stand for several minutes.

Eventually, I recover enough to clean myself up a little and then go looking for Angie. As before, she is naked and leaning against the wall outside her room. Cum is dribbling down the inside of her thighs. Her eyes are closed and she has a beatific smile of satisfaction on her face. I know she had a wonderful time because I could faintly hear her responding to her twin throughout much of my encounter with mine.

When she recovers enough to talk, she tells me she experienced everything with her legs in the slings that I enjoyed during my first bondage session. Then her twin sat on the side of the bed, placed her across his lap, and spanked her with considerable force. Afterward she was given the full anal treatment on her arch, including the butt plug. Like me, she couldn't walk for several minutes after it was over. She is unable to tell me how many orgasms she achieved.

Our evening ends with a quiet dinner in our favorite restaurant. We know it may be quite a while before our next bondage session. The twins will need some time to prepare. We are not dismayed. We'll date our twins normally and enjoy each other with our videos until we are summoned for the next go round.

****

To be continued...

I encourage readers to vote and comment. Constructive thoughts, suggestions, and criticisms are always appreciated.



On a Slippery Slope Ch. 06



Angie and I are now on equal footing as far as bondage goes, each of us having now experienced everything the twins have conjured up in terms of restraint devices and techniques. Over the next three weeks we each go on a few dates with our twin and enjoy the normalcy of the experience.

But we are also on pins and needles waiting for our next notes to arrive. There are many nights when we don't see the guys, so we know they're working on something. We take advantage of their absence by watching our videos and taking care of each other's sexual needs. We are getting very good at that.

On Thursday of the fourth week the twins throw us a curve. I receive a package in the mail that contains a new mask and a note. Our old masks are really no more than sleeping masks that are held in place by a single elastic band that crosses the back of our heads. This mask is more elaborate, having three bands to ensure it does not inadvertently slip out of place. Apparently, the twins have something energetic in mind. The thought thrills me.

My note is different from the ones I have received in the past. I am told to be in my apartment at eight on Friday night, wear nothing but the mask, and be seated on the side of my bed. I am instructed to leave my door unlocked. The usual prohibition against masturbation is included.

I call Angie's cell phone immediately. She has stopped at the grocery store and has not yet arrived home.

"When you get home, check your mail," I tell her.

"Did you get a note?" she asks, excitement evident in her voice.

"Oh yes," I reply.

"You sound funny. Is something wrong?"

"No, just get your mail and then call me."

My phone chirps a few minutes later.

"What do you suppose they're up to?" Angie asks.

"I think they are not yet ready for us at the bondage site but they want to swap places and fuck us. Connor and I have probably had sex every third day or so over the past three weeks. I can't believe he's getting bored with me already," I say, only half in jest.

"It's been about the same with Brian and me," she responds, "but I think they're growing impatient. I'll bet they're just having a little trouble with whatever they're working on and they can't stand to wait any longer."

"You're probably right. What does your note say?"

"Mine says to be at my apartment at nine-thirty Friday night. I am to wear this new mask and sit naked on the side of my bed. I'm supposed to leave the door unlocked and I'm not allowed to play with myself tonight."

"What did you say?" I shout into the phone, my heart pounding in my chest.

"What's wrong, Carla?" Angie asks, concern in her voice.

"Read it to me word for word!" I command. She complies.

"My note says to be ready at eight o'clock," I tell her, my voice shaking with emotion. There is a long pause on the other end of the line.

"Oh, my God," Angie whispers. "They're both planning to fuck each of us tomorrow night. Both of them at the same time. It's a three-way. Two three-ways."

I recover my senses and think for a moment.

"That's why they've scheduled everything for later in the evening than normal. Connor has been to my apartment several times now and the neighbors are used to seeing him. They are not accustomed to seeing twins. The days are shorter now so it is dark by eight. They need darkness to avoid being observed together. I don't fucking believe this," I finish.

"What should we do?" Angie asks, her nervousness apparent.

"I don't know. I need to think for a bit. Open a bottle of wine. I'll stop at the deli and be there in half an hour."

"Bring your stuff and spend the night," she says.

"Okay. Bye."

"Bye."

My mind is in turmoil as I gather my things, including my toys, and lock the door behind me. I buy sandwiches, coleslaw, and a couple of pastries for dessert. Angie is waiting for me in her apartment doorway. She is clearly agitated.

"Screw the wine. I need something stronger," I announce.

"Martini?" Angie asks.

"Let's make a pitcher. We'll drink the wine with our dinner later."

Angie's hands are shaking. So are mine. Between the two of us we manage to make enough of the concoction for two drinks apiece. We skip the martini glasses and dump our drinks into tumblers instead. Martini glasses are difficult to handle with shaky hands.

"This is blowing my mind," Angie announces as she takes the first sip.

"Mine too," I say, "but I did a little thinking on the way over here."

"And?"

"I've been with both guys at the same time twice but didn't know it. But each time involved only one twin actually fucking me. If had known from the beginning that two men were going to be involved, I would probably have been freaked out and would never have gone to that house."

"But you did go, and we've both watched the videos of those encounters many times. I know you were thrilled with the results, after the fact maybe, but thrilled nonetheless," Angie says," but I've been with each of the twins only once and only one at a time. I don't know what to do."

"Let's think about this a little," I offer. "If we go along with this, it'll still be just another bondage encounter and we won't know which guy is doing us at any point in time. We've already concluded that we have no trouble dating one twin and screwing the other in bondage situations. I don't see much difference here except we know both guys will be fucking us on the same night."

"I guess you're right. I'm just having a little trouble wrapping my head around the idea. But I will admit, I'm a little bit intrigued," she responds.

"I am too, but it bothers me a little that they are splitting us up for the entire evening. I've become used to driving over there with you and then leaving with you when it's over."

"Are you afraid?" Angie asks.

"Not really. I'm just a tiny bit jumpy about all the changes; using our apartments, knowing up front that it's going to be a threesome, not having you close by. All of it."

"I understand, and I feel the same way, but I still might want to do it. I'm starting to get a little wet just thinking about it."

"You little tramp," I say with a smile. "But I'm having the same problem. Let's have another martini, eat our dinner, and take a shower."

"We're not supposed to masturbate," Angie responds with a wide grin.

"Wouldn't dream of doing such a thing," I answer with a grin of my own.

We eat our dinner and polish off the entire bottle of wine in the process. We're both a little tipsy when we step into the shower stall and start giggling as we lather each other up. Soon we are misbehaving.

We continue to misbehave for an hour or so after we crawl into Angie's bed. The booze and the orgasms relax us and we fall into a deep sleep that is uninterrupted until Angie's alarm clock goes off in the morning.

****

Connor calls and asks me out to dinner on Saturday night. I accept but decide it might be a little bizarre to go back to my apartment for sex in the same bed where he and his brother are going to fuck me tonight. I'll have to think about that some more.

I run into Angie in the lunchroom at our mid-morning break. She tells me Brian has also called to ask her out on Saturday. I share my thoughts about sex at the end of our dates. She stares at me for a long moment and then gets an attack of the giggles over the idea. She has an infectious personality and soon I'm giggling with her. But the issue still lingers in the back of my mind.

We go out for lunch and spend the time speculating about what will happen tonight. By the time lunch is over, we are both squirming in our seats from anticipation and arousal; having both decided we are looking forward to our threesomes.

Fortunately for us, our boss is on the warpath over a problem that keeps us busy right up until quitting time when Angie stops by my office.

"What shall we do about dinner?" she asks.

"Let's grab something light. I don't have to start getting ready until about seven."

"Yeah, and I get to sit around my apartment and wring my hands until eight-thirty or so before I start getting ready," she complains. "And by the way, don't sap too much of their strength. If I'm going to go through with this, I don't want two used-up guys trying to keep their end of the bargain."

That makes me laugh. "Don't worry," I tell her, "Connor's batteries recharge quickly. I know from experience that he can go full throttle again thirty minutes after he cums. They'll be finished with me about nine, or maybe a little earlier, and head for your place. You won't be short-changed."

"I know," she responds with a small frown. "I'm just complaining because I have to wait so long. Brian recovers quickly too."

We walk out of the office together and decide to meet at a favorite restaurant at six o'clock. We arrive within minutes of each other and grab a booth.

"I'm nervous," she announces after we order glasses of white wine.

"Me too. My butterflies are pretty active. This whole thing is a big departure from what we've been doing. I'm sure it's going to be a mind-blowing experience, but I'm a little jittery about it."

"My problem is that I have to wait so long. I'll be sitting in my apartment about eight-thirty or so, knowing you're getting your brains fucked out, and I'll still have an hour to wait before they arrive. Probably more before they actually do anything to me. I wonder how they decided which one of us is up to bat first," she says, suddenly changing course.

"You know they flipped a coin," I offer just as our server drops off our wine and takes our orders; shrimp salad plates for both of us.

We finish just before seven and head out the door to the parking lot.

Arriving at Angie's car first, I give her a hug.

"Call me after they leave your place," she tells me. "I'll want to know you're okay."

"I'll be fine, but I will call so you'll know they're on the way."

We hug once more and then Angie drives away. I am all alone.

****

At five minutes to eight I am sitting naked and squeaky clean on the side of my bed as directed. I am wearing the mask and I am hyperventilating. I am also lubricating heavily.

I have stripped my bed of everything except a fitted sheet. I wonder how they are going to restrain me. My brass headboard is pretty convenient. Bondage was on my mind when I bought it, but so far only Angie and I have taken advantage of its brass bars.

I have no more time to think. I hear the door to my apartment open and close. The lock clicks into place. My heart starts to pound in my chest. I hear soft noises in my living room and assume they are removing their clothes. I take several deep breaths to calm my nerves. It doesn't work.

They enter my bedroom quietly. I'm sure they are naked and I'd bet good money they are already erect.

I feel body heat in front of me. A hand cups the back of my head and gently pulls it forward. Suddenly I know what's going to happen next. I have been on the receiving end of wonderful oral sex several times during my bondage encounters, but I've never been asked to reciprocate. That is about to change.

I part my lips slightly and feel a cock ease its way inside. The twins are so large that I can only accommodate the head in my mouth. I have no clue who has his dick between my lips now, but I do exactly what I did to Connor on our last date. I wrap both hands around the shaft and use my lips, teeth, and tongue to extract a low grown of pleasure from somebody. I spend several minutes manipulating the splendid cock but I'm careful not to push him too close to the edge. I want both men to fuck me. It is not in my best interest to put one of them out of action now.

This guy doesn't want that to happen either. Soon he withdraws and pushes me onto my back. Sounds of movement lead me to believe the men are trading places. Someone lifts my legs out of the way and buries his face between my thighs.

He goes straight for my clit. I signal my gratitude with a sharp cry of pleasure and I am on my way. It's all over in less than a minute. I clap both hands over my mouth to muffle my cries as orgasmic tremors race through my body. He keeps working my clit and I have a second climax a few moments later. He keeps going, but I can't handle any more clitoral stimulation right now. My lips start to form the safe word but he stops just in time.

My breasts are heaving as I try to remember how to breathe. Before I can recover, someone slips his arms under the backs of my knees to hold my legs open wide, thrusts a stiff cock into my pussy, and begins to move.

"Oh God yes! Fuck me!" I demand as the movement becomes more pronounced. He knows what to do. Gradually increasing the speed and force of his thrusts, one of the twins is soon pounding himself into me with impressive force. I begin the full range of unintelligible sounds I make when I am being vigorously fucked.

I am going to cum soon. I would like to counterthrust but I have no leverage. My knees are being held back nearly in line with my breasts, so I have to lie there and absorb the pounding. Poor me. I cum with another muffled scream. Thank goodness my hands are free or the neighbors will be calling 911.

He holds his position inside me for a while but doesn't move. He is supporting my legs and allowing me to rest. After a minute or two he withdraws and I am pulled to my feet. Someone turns me around. I am now facing the bed.

Seconds later four strong hands place me on my hands and knees on the edge of the bed. My knees are forced wide apart. I have been in this position many times before. I know how it works. I love it.

I don't know if I am going to be spanked, fingered, or screwed. It turns out to be fingers. I let out a soft cry and push back against the hand that begins to finger fuck me.

So far there are no restraints but I'm too aroused to give that much thought. When a thumb enters my ass I lose all ability to think about anything other than the wonderful sensation of another orgasm that is rapidly building inside me. One of the twins is pushing me close to the edge. I am crying out continuously now.

I become aware that I am not alone on the mattress. A moment later the head of a cock is slipped into my mouth, effectively reducing my cries of pleasure to muffled moans. My arms are holding my torso up off the mattress so my hands are no longer free. The twin who owns the cock that's in my mouth is careful not to enter me too far. He uses very short, very slow strokes. I am grateful and do my best to give him pleasure.

For a minute or so I am lost in the sensations of being made 'airtight' by the twins as they fill all of my major body orifices.

I can only take so much. I slip my mouth free of the cock. Lowering my upper body to the mattress, I press my face into the sheet and scream out my pleasure as the vaginal contractions begin. The finger fucking continues and prolongs my orgasm for a few precious seconds. When it's over, the hand is withdrawn. There is a pause, the mattress shifts, and I can hear the twins moving around.

I have no time to speculate about what's going to happen next. Once again a rigid cock is pushed slowly into my pussy and then immediately begins to move in and out at a moderate pace. I show my appreciation be counterthrusting against someone's hips and get an increase in speed and force as a reward. I am going to cum soon. I claw at the sheet.

"Oh, yes! Harder! Harder!" I demand. He picks up the pace and hammers himself into me with much greater force.

I go over the edge with a shriek of pure ecstasy, my pussy clenching around the thrusting shaft. Involuntarily, I throw my body forward and disengage from the still-moving cock. Immediately, I am pulled back into position. I sense motion behind me and realize the twins are trading places once again. Seconds later I am filled with another cock and the pounding resumes.

I am still having aftershocks from the earlier orgasms but I am being pushed toward another. I am on my way in seconds and begin digging my fingernails into the mattress once again.

"Oh!...Oh!...Oh!...God! I chant as the pounding continues. I don't know how long he fucks me, I am lost in a sea of sensation. My orgasm rises from somewhere deep inside and overtakes me in a rush. The contractions are so intense they are almost painful. I scream into the mattress and then collapse onto the bed, once again pulling free of a magnificent cock.

They let me rest. I am thankful. I wonder what they'll do to me next. I have already had oral sex, given it in return twice, had my ass and pussy fingered, and been thoroughly fucked several times.

They don't give me much time to think. One of the twins gathers me into his arms and places me on my back in the middle of the bed. Someone gently spreads my legs wide and then enters me. I think it is time for the finale. I have lost track of time, but it must be nearing nine o'clock by now.

I can tell by the way he is fucking me that this will be his final performance. I love the missionary position and its intimacy. I gratefully wrap my arms around him and hold on for the ride. As he gets closer to the edge, he picks up his pace and fucks me very hard. I am going to cum again. I hope he can hold on until I finish.

He does. His contractions coincide with mine as he fills me with his cum and lets out a primal roar. I stifle my scream by pressing my mouth into the side of his neck.

My body is still shaking as he withdraws and the remaining twin takes his place. This is not bondage. This is pure, raw, animal sex. Only the mask gives a superficial nod to the bondage idea. I don't care. I have never been fucked like this before.

Once again, a twin drives me into an orgasmic state, pounding himself into me and cumming in concert with my final climax of the night. These guys are good.

I am exhausted and barely conscious as he withdraws. I lie still while they use my bathroom to wash up. They still have more work to do tonight. They dress in my living room and then leave the apartment.

I remove my mask and glance over at the clock on my bedside table. It is only ten minutes to nine. The last twin probably ejaculated into me five minutes ago. I am glad. That gives them a full forty-five minutes to recover. Angie will get all the fucking she can handle.

I am still too weak to get out of bed so I lie still for a few more moments. When I'm finally able to stand, I stagger out to the kitchen where I last saw my cell phone. Cum is dribbling down the insides of my thighs. A lot of it. I had a double shot. I grab a dish towel to staunch the flow and hold it in place while I speed dial Angie's number with the other hand.

She answers immediately.

"Are you okay?" she asks breathlessly.

"I'm worn out, but I'm fine. I won't tell you what they did to me, but I will tell you that you're in for a most pleasurable experience."

"Tell me a little!" she squeals.

"Nope. Call me when they leave your apartment," I tell her and then terminate the call.

It is still relatively early. I am tired but not sleepy. I open a bottle of wine and sip a glass while I wait for Angie's call. I suspect she'll get what I got. I glance at my living room clock just as its little chime announces the time as ten o'clock. Angie is a little more than half way through her encounter with the twins. She cums easily, so I'm guessing she's already had a half dozen orgasms. Maybe more. I smile to myself at the thought.

My phone chirps just as I finish my second glass of wine.

"Oh God," she whispers. It's all she can manage to say.

"Sounds like you had a good time," I tell her.

"I've never experienced anything like that," she breathes, her voice getting a little stronger.

"Me neither. Now go to sleep and call me when you wake up. We'll meet for breakfast."

"Okay. Love you."

"Love you too."




On a Slippery Slope Ch. 06



****

We are at our favorite breakfast place. Angie looks a little worse for wear, a rare thing for a woman who always has it together. Her eyes are a little puffy, but her encounter ended much later than mine so I'm not surprised. I've had more time to recover.

We spend the next hour talking quietly about what the twins did to us. As I suspected, Angie was treated to a performance that was virtually identical to mine.

"Have the rules changed, or was that just a little diversion while they finish whatever they are planning next?" Angie asks.

"I don't know what their intentions are, but the rules don't change without our consent. We both have dates tonight. Let's see if we can gather some intelligence about what's on their minds," I suggest.

"Good idea," she responds, "I'm going home to take a nap. I'll call you about four o'clock. Maybe the cobwebs in my brain will be gone by then."

"I'm gonna take a nap too," I tell her as we walk out of the restaurant.

Her call comes in at four on the dot.

"Boy, do I feel better," she announces.

"Me too. Any more thoughts about last night," I ask.

"I was thinking about what you said yesterday, you know, about having sex with Brian at the end of tonight's date in the same bed where the twins both fucked me last night. I thought it was sort of funny when you said it, but I decided it bothers me a little," she replies.

"I've been thinking about that too, and I have decided not to have sex with Connor tonight. I'm going to tell him the threesome was one of the most enjoyable experiences of my life, but I'm a little sore. He won't have any trouble believing that after what they did to me.

"That's a good idea. I'll do the same with Brian. But what do we do in the long run? I loved the three-way, and I want to do it again sometime, but I'm not comfortable doing it in my bed."

"I've thought about that too," I reply, "and I've already decided that the next time will have to be on neutral ground. I'm not going to say anything about it tonight because I don't want the twins to feel like they did anything wrong. We followed their instructions without objection, so our uneasiness is self-inflicted."

"You're right. Maybe we should just let it rest for a few days and then tell them that we've decided not to do it in our apartments again."

"That's the answer. As long as we tell them before they try to set up another threesome, they won't be embarrassed."

Pleased with our strategy, we end our phone call and start preparations for our dates.

My date with Connor goes well. Early in the evening, I tell him how much I enjoyed last night but I'm too sore to have sex for a couple of days. He is pleased that I liked the three-way and very solicitous about my well-being. He shows no sign of disappointment.

We finish our meal, dance for an hour or so, and then he takes me home. After a prolonged kiss at my door, he departs and I let myself into the apartment. On a whim, I call Angie. Her evening went much like mine. Brian was a perfect gentleman.

Angie offers to drive us over to my parent's house for dinner tomorrow. I accept and tell her to bring her work clothes so she can spend the night at my place.

Dinner is fun and, once again, I enjoy thinking about what my parents would do if they knew what Angie and I had done over the weekend, or for that matter, what we will probably do later tonight. Heavy-lidded smiles from her tell me she is having similar thoughts.

My parents have already been told that we are dating twins. I ask Mom if it would be okay to invite them over for dinner next Sunday.

"Of course, dear," she replies, clearly pleased that she'll have two more mouths to feed. My family loves me and they love Angie. The twins will be warmly welcomed.

Angie and I finally excuse ourselves and head back to my apartment.

"So this is the scene of the crime," she quips, with a wide grin when she sees my properly made-up bed. "Did you spend as much time on the edge of it as I did on mine?"

"Probably. Only my last two orgasms occurred in the center of the bed. Both of those were missionary style."

"Mine too. Let's take a shower and put the center of that bed to good use," she suggests.

I think that's a splendid idea.

****

Monday sets the tone for the remainder of the week. Boring.

We do not expect videos of our three-ways and Tuesday's mail confirms the notion that there are none.

We meet the twins for lunch on Wednesday, but they tell us they will be busy every evening, including Friday. Hopefully they are wrapping up whatever it is they are planning for our next bondage session. When lunch ends, I extend the invitation to have dinner at my parent's house on Sunday. They seem genuinely pleased and accept immediately.

My phone chirps on the way home from work at the end of the day. Angie had a doctor's appointment in the afternoon and arrives at her apartment earlier than normal.

"They did it!" she squeals into the phone. "They recorded the threesomes!"

"No kidding?" I didn't hear anything that night to suggest that a camera was being set up. "Get your stuff and come over to my place for the night. We'll have dinner and watch the videos."

"Is that all we're gonna do?"

"Probably," I reply, grinning into the phone.

"Yeah, right."

There is only one camera angle, which explains why most of the action is confined to the edges of the beds. But the placement is perfect. The videos are incredibly sexy. Both of us have given our share of blowjobs to guys, but we've never watched ourselves do it. We are soon in an advanced state of arousal.

Using the twin's method for making hard choices, Angie flips a coin. I call it and win. She has to wear the mask while I tie her to my headboard and do all sorts of things to her. She cums several times. Then it's my turn with the mask and she returns the favor. We decide that having our own mini-bondage sessions using the masks is pretty cool and vow to do it again soon.

Connor calls on Thursday and asks me out on a date for Saturday night. Angie drops by my office later to tell me Brian has asked her out as well.

"You gonna fuck him?" I inquire with a wicked grin.

"Oh, I don't know," she replies, feigning indifference. "Maybe. How about you?"

"I haven't decided yet," I tell her, nonchalantly examining my fingernails.

We both start laughing at the same time. Our activities last night just took a little of the edge off our horniness. We both know we'll be climbing the walls by Saturday night. The twins are in for a treat.

Saturday arrives. My memories of the previous Saturday's three-way have faded to the point where I feel no discomfort having Connor in my bed. I fuck his brains out. 

Dinner at my parent's house is great. They take to the twins immediately. My brother Tim, the sheriff's Chief Deputy, is underwhelmed, but he's a cop so he's suspicious of everyone. He'll come around. One of Angie's two Episcopal priest brothers is there with his family. He has too much wine and starts telling raunchy jokes. Dad sees that as a challenge and they have a duel. It gets so bad that Mom takes all the kids out into the back yard for ice cream. The rest of us howl with laughter. Angie gets the hiccups.

Throughout the evening, Angie and I exchange small smiles, knowing everyone in my family would require hospitalization if they knew what the twins have been doing to us over the past few weeks.

The party breaks up later than usual and everyone heads for home.

Angie and I were given a project by the boss on Friday that is going to turn all next week into a marathon. A good night's sleep is the right answer. We all sleep in our own beds.

****

As we expect, it is bedlam at work all week. It keeps our mind off the fact that we have not had a real bondage session in more than a month. We only catch glimpses of the twins most days. On Wednesday, they each find a reason to stop by the lunchroom for coffee. They give no hint that anything good is about to happen. But...they don't ask us out on a date for Saturday night either. Angie and I take this is a good sign. Hope springs eternal.

We both receive notes in the mail on Friday. We are told to dress however we wish and it's okay to include underwear. This is puzzling. The usual caution about masturbating is included and we are instructed to arrive at the bondage place promptly at seven.

Angie has brought everything she needs to spend the weekend. We have dinner out and then return to my apartment. We open some wine and watch the threesome videos twice each. This gets our motors revving and we spend a delicious hour and a half servicing each other in creative ways before falling asleep hand in hand.

We go out to breakfast and then spend most of the day shopping and speculating about the night ahead. We have no clue what's going to happen, and we are mystified by having been told to wear whatever we like. The twins are usually pretty specific. We decide to tone things down a little, so we purchase new outfits that are quite conservative when compared to the clothes we usually wear to the bondage sessions.

The day passes quickly and we begin our preparations at six o'clock. At six forty-five we examine each other carefully and conclude we are properly dressed, including some not-so-sexy underwear.

At seven on the dot we step into the entryway.

"Welcome ladies," says The Voice. "Did you masturbate last night?"

"Yes," we lie in unison. Technically we did no such thing. We didn't touch our own pussies even once.

"Do you understand the consequences of your actions?"

"You bet," quips Angie with a broad smile. The Voice doesn't acknowledge her levity.

"Both of you go into room number three," he commands. I look down the hallway and realize they have put numbers on each of the six doors that line the hall.

Angie and I exchange puzzled looks but do as we're told. They usually split us up immediately after our arrival.

All our old friends from earlier occasions are stored in the room; the fucking machines, our arches, and the examining table. The bed with the slings and the restraints occupies the center of the room. Two outfits have been laid out on the mattress.

"Disrobe completely and put on your new clothes," orders The Voice.

Again we exchange puzzled glances but begin removing our clothing. Soon we are standing stark naked beside the bed. It takes only a second or two for us to realize what we are about to wear. We exchange wide grins and begin to dress. When we are finished, we have undergone a remarkable transformation.

We are now each dressed as a naughty prep-school girl. Short pleated plaid skirt, knee high white socks, come-fuck-me shoes, and a little white blouse that closes just beneath our breasts with ribbons we tie into a bow. Our midriffs are bare and a lot of cleavage is on display. No underwear has been provided. The fact that we are dressed as twins is not lost on us.

"Go back into the entryway," says The Voice. We do as were told.

"Now both of you enter room number four and shut the door behind you."

This is a major departure from our usual routine. I look at Angie and raise one eyebrow. She gives me an almost imperceptible shake of her head.

"We need a couple of minutes," I say as I look up at the camera. "We're going back into room three."

"That's not in the script," announces The Voice, sounding a little annoyed.

"It is now. Either we get a couple of minutes of privacy or we're going home. Also, turn off the cameras and microphones in there," I demand, my fists on my hips and a frown on my face.

"Very well," says The Voice after a long pause.

"What the fuck?" asks Angie as I pull the door shut behind us.

"I think they're both going to be in that room. Not only that, I don't think we'll be blindfolded. I'll bet they'll be disguised. I think we're about to have a four-way," I answer.

"What makes you say that?"

"It's the only thing that makes sense. Why dress us up like this? These outfits are so skimpy that we don't need to take them off to get properly fucked. They want us to look alike and to watch each other."

"I think they're just twins who want to fuck twins," she counters with a frown.

"So what? Does it bother you that we might be watching each other get screwed? I mean in real time, not on video."

Angie gives me a long look. I hold my breath. I really want to do this.

"Not at all," she replies with a smile. "In fact the idea is making me wet. I was just surprised by the sudden change of direction. Let's go."

"Remember," I remind her as we leave the room, "we can stop this immediately if we don't like what we find in there." Angie nods her head, but steps confidently across the hall and opens door number four.

What we see stuns us. The twins are there, standing side by side in costume. Spider Man is the first thing that pops into my head except their outfits are solid black. 'Ninja' is the next word that crosses my mind. Angie reaches over and squeezes my hand really hard.

Their costumes are skin-tight, molded perfectly to their splendid physiques. Only their mouths, noses, hands, and genitals are uncovered. They are already partially erect. Their eyes bore into ours through holes in the cloth that covers their heads. No one says a word.

I break eye contact and start to look around the room. The twins step aside to allow us time to examine our surroundings and reach what conclusions we can about the devices and implements in the room.

Two identical structures, similar to our old bondage arches, occupy the center of the room. There are recesses for our knees but none for our breasts. The vibrating nubs are exactly where they need to be. A couple of switches are mounted on the side of each device, presumably for controlling the nub and perhaps another implement of some sort. The arch flattens at the top, forming a small platform, and then drops straight to the floor on the far side. A small pillow rests on the platform. There are no handgrips, but there are a lot more straps than we have on the old arches. Each device is mounted on casters so it can be wheeled around.

A small table stands off to one side that tells us roughly what we can expect. There is a cat o' nine tails, a pair of bullet vibrators, and two anal dildos like the one I experienced before. The bullets have little wires about a six inches long dangling over the side of the table. I have seen these on the web. They are antennas and also serve as retrieval aids. Now I know what the second switch is for. There is the usual tube of lubricant and two hand towels are draped across the table. There are no blindfolds. It doesn't matter. I can't tell one twin from the other.

I steal a glance at Angie. She looks a little distressed, probably because of the dildo. She has seen the video of one being used on me, but she has only experienced the butt plug. I wonder if she is going to call the whole thing off. She remains silent.

One of the twins points at me and then crooks his fingers as a summons. I walk right up to him and stop, staring defiantly into his eyes. He reaches out to untie the little bow on my blouse, freeing my breasts. When I start to remove the garment, he stops me.

Grasping me by elbow he leads me over to the device. With a hand gesture, he urges me to mount the thing. I know what to do with my knees, so I nestle them into the recesses, pull my skirt up in front and position my pussy against the little nub. He takes over from there.

Straps are fastened across my calves, the backs of my thighs, and the small of my back. The lower half of my body isn't going anywhere. He pulls my arms forward and secures them to the platform near the edges with two sets of straps across my forearms. My hands are free, but I can't do anything with them. My upper body and head are left free of restraint and I can move them at will. I am now bent over a partial arch with my legs widely spread but I am free to look around. The little pillow provides a place to rest my head or muffle my orgasmic screams when the time comes. The last thing he does is pull my blouse down off my shoulders a bit and push the excess material aside to completely expose my breasts.

Once I am strapped into the device, I realize that everything that has been done to me in the old arch is possible here. The fact that a twin can now position his body close to my face raises an interesting possibility.

One of the men turns my device around to face Angie's and locks the wheels. I watch as her blouse is untied and she is restrained in the same manner by the other twin. She forgets to pull the front of her skirt out of the way, but he notices and reaches around in front to tug the material upward so she can enjoy the little nub when it vibrates her clit later on.

When she is fully constrained, her twin walks immediately around to the front of her device, cradles his cock in one hand, and pushes it slowly in between her lips. She eagerly opens her mouth to receive his offering.

Her guy slowly begins to make short thrusts, careful not to enter her too far. I can see her working her lips and tongue and she soon extracts a soft moan from the owner of the rigid cock. He reaches down to pull her blouse aside, obviously wanting to admire the perfect breasts that are now on display above the platform.

I am so focused on what is happening to Angie that I lose track of my twin. He suddenly steps to the far side of her device, pulls the hem of her little skirt up onto the small of her back, and strikes her ass with the cat. She lets out a muffled sound in response. He quickly picks up the pace and expertly wields the whip to establish force and tempo tailored to Angie's tolerance level. Obviously, he has done this to her before.

Angie keeps working her twin's cock but is now making all the noise she possibly can with her mouth full. Within a minute or so, she pulls free of the cock and raises her head.

"Harder!" she cries. "Harder!"

Her command is obeyed and the cat strikes with greater force five or six more times. Angie lets out a prolonged wail as her body begins to shudder against her restraints and she experiences a crushing orgasm. The lashing stops but the cat is used to gently stroke her body as she lowers her face into the pillow and tries to get control of her breathing.

I realize I am hyperventilating and lubricating like crazy. I know the same thing is about to happen to me as soon as Angie has recovered enough to enjoy the performance. One of the men turns her device to face mine so she can watch. 

A full minute passes before my twin steps in front of my face and presents his cock. I open my mouth to accept as much of him as I can manage. I am expecting to feel the cat, but seconds later I feel the slap of a large hand on my fanny. Apparently, I am to be spanked by Angie's twin for my disobedience. I am thrilled. I would like to wiggle my butt as a sign of approval but I can't move my lower body at all.

I suspect that Angie had her orgasm without the aid of the vibrating nub. I can't cum just by being spanked. I need a little help. As my spanking continues, my arousal peaks but I can't get over the edge. Just when I start to feel frustrated, my little vibrator comes to life and I cum within seconds, screaming my appreciation into the little pillow. The spanking stops and so does the vibrator, but my guy continues to caress my ass while I recover.

The twins let us rest for a couple of minutes and then turn our devices so that Angie and I are facing each other. This is going to be interesting; our faces are no more than two feet apart. I realize all the action will now be at the other end of our bodies. I smile at Angie and get a smile and a wink in return.

I can't see my twin, but I can see Angie's step up behind her with a bullet vibrator which he slips into her pussy and then flips one of the switches. She gives a little start when the vibrations begin. Only a second or two later I feel one being pushed into me and the vibrations kick in. It takes only a moment for me to realize that, because of the position my body is in, the vibrator is resting on top of my G-spot. From the sounds Angie is making, she has reached the same conclusion.




On a Slippery Slope Ch. 06



The men allow us to enjoy the feeling for a minute or two and then I watch as Angie's twin reaches down and puts his hand between her thighs. Just as she lets out a soft moan in response to the fingers that have just been inserted into her pussy, I feel a couple of fingers slip into mine. I love to be finger fucked. So does Angie. 

We both ramp up quickly, our cries filling the room as the twins expertly manipulate our pussies and allow the vibrators to work their magic on our G-spots. At precisely the right moment, the men ease their thumbs into our asses and we are suddenly pushed right to the edge. We try to hold eye contact with each other but can't concentrate. Angie lowers her face into her pillow. She cums in just a few seconds, using the pillow to muffle her screams. I follow her over the cliff moments later, but allow my cries to reverberate off the walls and then lower my head. I need to rest.

The vibrators are stopped but remain inside us. We are given a couple of minutes to recover, but the twins are nowhere near finished with us. I am acutely aware that there are two dildos on the table and two splendid cocks in the room that have seen very little action. The thought thrills me.

The twins know I have had the dildo-in-the-ass routine. They also know Angie has not. She can't see her twin, but I can. He is in the process of applying a generous amount of lubricant onto one of the dildos. She may not know what is about to happen to her. I catch her eye and give a high wattage smile, trying to communicate to her that all is well.

Her eyes open wide as her twin starts to gently ease the dildo into her rectum.

"Oh God," she moans and I recall that she had less trouble with the butt plug than I did the first time around. Perhaps she'll prove to be a natural at this.

"Oh God!" she cries as the dildo slips deeper inside. I can't see very much, but I suspect the implement is now buried to the hilt.

Nothing is happening to me. My twin is somewhere behind me. I hope he is preparing my dildo, but that doesn't seem to be the case. Apparently I am supposed to watch the entire performance that is unfolding in front of me.

Angie's twin begins to move the dildo and she lets out a ragged moan in response. He slowly picks up speed and is soon fucking her ass at a rapid pace. I had an orgasm the first time that was done to me and I wonder if Angie will be able to follow suit.

I shouldn't have doubted her. It takes a minute or so, but she cums with a shriek that echoes off the walls of the room. The dildo stops moving, but remains buried in her ass as her face drops onto her pillow.

I'm next. My twin eases the implement into me and I let out a soft cry in response. Angie hears me, raises her head, and gives me a heavy-lidded smile.

My performance mirrors hers. I cum quickly, wailing into my pillow, and once again we are allowed to rest for a few moments.

We both know what will happen next. I have experienced it and Angie has seen the video. The twins are now going to fuck us with the dildos in place. I am ready.

The twins enter us at the same time, both of us acknowledging the penetrations with loud moans, and then sharp yelps as the bullet vibrators deep in our pussies return to life.

I have never felt anything like this. The double penetration, along with the G-spot stimulation ramps me up quickly. I am soon clawing at the surface of the platform and screaming with pleasure as my twin grasps me by the hips and begins to pound his hard cock into me. Angie is receiving the same treatment and her cries compete with mine. I can only imagine what the bullet vibrators feel like to the twins.

It is all over in a couple of minutes. The vibrator against my clit is switched on at exactly the right moment and I fall into the abyss. Angie is right behind me. The twins let out primal growls as they spurt cum into us while our contractions clamp rhythmically around their pulsating shafts. I can see Angie's twin nearly collapse and I can feel mine having trouble maintaining his balance. They recover enough to remain on their feet but gently fold their bodies over on top of ours as all the vibrators shut down.

We all take a much-needed rest. Eventually, my guy stirs and reaches across my back to unstrap one of my forearms. Seconds later he withdraws his cock, the dildo, and the vibrator. Angie's twin performs the same service for her. A few moments later, both men leave the room.

Angie looks like she might have passed out. A little later, I hear a door open and close at the far end of the hallway. The twins have departed so I unfasten my restraints and ease my way off the device. I have to hold onto it for a minute or two before I can trust my legs to support my weight.

I wipe cum from the inside of my thighs with one of the hand towels and stumble over to Angie just as she begins to stir. I quickly release her straps and lean down to kiss her on the cheek.

"Oh my God," she murmurs, "I have never felt anything like that before."

"Me neither," I tell her as I gently stroke her hair, waiting for her strength to return.

After a few minutes she is able to stand. I hand her a towel and she takes care of most of the mess between her thighs.

"Let's take a look around," I suggest. "We haven't been in this building in more than a month."

Angie agrees and we start looking in the other rooms. Rooms one and two are empty. We know room number three is being used for storage. We were just fucked senseless in number four a few minutes ago. Rooms five and six are also empty.

We finish cleaning up in the bathroom and then inspect the shop. Surprisingly, two overstuffed chairs are in residence. We can't imagine what role they will eventually play. The work area is a mess. We spend a few moments trying to figure out what they're building and then give up.

I am starving to death and convey that information to Angie. We return to room three and don our conservative outfits. We decide to steal the naughty little prep school costumes after agreeing that we can put them to good use in our apartments. They really are quite sexy.

We have a nice dinner together in our favorite restaurant. Eventually, Angie puts her fork down, gives out a discreet little burp, and folds her napkin.

"I suspect that all our bondage sessions will like that from now on," she announces.

"How so?"

"All four of us in the room together. Watching each other being fucked in the flesh, so to speak, is one hell of a turn-on. I'm sure they think so too. The twins' disguises are perfect. I had no idea who was who."

"I couldn't tell them apart either. What do you suppose they have in mind next?"

"I don't know, but I'll bet we're gonna like it," she says with a grin.

****

To be continued...

I encourage readers to vote and comment. Constructive thoughts, suggestions, and criticisms are always appreciated.



On a Slippery Slope Ch. 07



It is Monday after our latest bondage encounter. Angie and I have brought our lunches to work and are eating them in my office.

"We need to have that discussion about the three-ways with the twins," she says. "That may be the next thing on their minds."

"I agree that we need to talk to them, but I'm guessing we'll all date normally for a week or two so we should have a little time. And I do want to have a few dates with conventional sex afterwards."

"Me too. I want to be able to touch Brian when we have sex. I want him to hold me and kiss me. I love the bondage, but it it's pretty impersonal. I don't want it to become the norm."

"It won't. Too much prep time. But look how lucky we are. We have the twins as boyfriends, we have each other, and we have the bondage sessions," I offer.

"We are lucky," she agrees. "I'll bet we have the best sex lives on the planet. And if we continue the three-ways, things are only going to get better. Have you given any thought to where we might have them?"

"I have, and the only place that makes sense to me is the bondage building. It looks like there are plenty of extra rooms. It would be easy enough to set one of them up just for that purpose," I respond.

"What about doing the threesomes at the twin's house?" she asks. "We've never had sex there and I don't think we're likely to under normal circumstances."

"That's true. On regular dates we always use our apartments. There's no privacy at their house because they live together; not that it would bother me if both of us were having sex down the hall from each other at the same time, but it's just not conventional dating."

"Well, now it looks like we might have a couple of options for the three-ways," Angie concludes with a satisfied smile on her face. "Let's sleep on the idea for a while and then talk it over with the guys."

"Okay. Now what did you think about the other night? I don't recall ever having cum as hard as I did the last time," I say.

"Me neither," she replies. "Every nerve in my body was on fire. I think the twins got their money's worth too. Can you imagine what those bullet vibrators must have felt like on the heads of their cocks?"

"From watching your twin nearly collapse at the end, I'd say things were pretty intense. And speaking of the other night, I'll bet they didn't bother to turn the cameras on. What would be the point? We already saw what happened."

"Oh, I think they did," she counters. "The different camera angles will be very revealing. There was a lot your twin was doing to you that I couldn't actually see."

"That's true. I could see your guy step up behind you, but I couldn't actually see him push the dildo or his cock into you. I'm sure that one or more of the cameras recorded that if they were turned on."

"I'll bet they were," she states emphatically. "You just wait. We'll have the videos tomorrow. Wednesday at the latest."

"I hope you're right. I'd like to watch us having those last mind-blowing orgasms. I was so far out of it that I couldn't pay much attention to what was happening to you."

"I want to watch all of the orgasms and I want to watch them with you. Maybe we can re-enact some of them afterward," Angie says with a smile. "Want to wear the little costumes while we do it?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe. Maybe not," I reply with feigned indifference. "I might not want to do anything other than watch the videos and then get a good night's sleep."

"Yeah, right," Angie says. I just grin back at her.

Our offices have windows that look out onto a common hallway. A sharp rap on the glass causes both of us to jump.

"If it's not too much trouble, perhaps the two of you could do a little work today," yells the boss. But she is smiling. A quick glance at my wall clock tells me that we have only exceeded our lunch break by a couple of minutes.

As we quickly clean up the remains of our lunch, Angie turns back to me.

"What would you say to doing away with the masks during the threesomes? You know, dropping the bondage pretense completely."

I think about that for a moment or two before I answer.

"I'm not sure," I finally reply. "I like the mystery. Not knowing who is fucking me is a big turn-on. On the other hand, it might be nice to see what's happening, like we did the other night. Let me think about it for a while."

****

Confirming Angie's uncanny ability to predict the future, we both receive videos in the mail on Tuesday. She spends the night.

Just for fun, we dress up in our naughty little prep school uniforms as Angie had suggested. The videos are superb, showing camera angles that reveal many details of our encounter with the twins we could not see when we were restrained. Angie and I nearly wear each other out by the time we go to sleep, both of us achieving several orgasms. I love that woman.

On Wednesday we go to happy hour with the twins at a pub near their house. By mutual agreement, Angie and I don't bring up the subject of three-ways and where to have them. The twins don't mention it either.

Happy hour rolls over into dinnertime so we eat at the pub. During dinner, I ask Connor a question that has been in the back of my mind since our bondage encounter on Saturday.

"What took you guys so long this last time? The restraints weren't very complicated."

Both guys burst out laughing. "It was those fucking costumes. We could find every comic book hero outfit on the internet, but that's not what we wanted," starts Brian. "Too corny."

"We had to teach ourselves to sew," Connor continues with a wide grin. "The costumes you saw were the result of our third try."

"The material was a problem too," said Brian. "We needed something that would stretch and breathe. We have to keep those rooms comfortable for naked ladies but we don't want to get all sweaty."

Everyone has a good laugh while they tell us the details of their adventures as budding tailors. While they talk, my mind's eye visualizes the rigid cocks protruding from the crotchless outfits. When I start thinking about what they did to us with them, I begin to lubricate.

It has been more than a week since Connor and I had normal sex. I realize I'm horny and decide to take him home with me and fuck him to death. Angie seems to have similar designs on Brian. We leave the pub about nine o'clock and go our separate ways.

I keep Connor up late. He gives my pussy a good workout and it's nearly midnight when he finally explodes inside me just as I am having my third or fourth orgasm. As usual, I lose count after the second one.

On Friday, Angie and Brian go to dinner and a movie. I prepare a delicious shrimp scampi for Connor at my apartment and then give him a blow job. He cums in my mouth for the first time. He returns the favor and sends me into outer space with his lips and tongue. For the finale, he fucks me senseless doggy style. Too tired to drive home, he spends the night. When we awaken in the morning, we have a quickie and then shower together. We fool around in the shower and he makes me cum again with his fingers. He is a man of many talents.

Connor leaves just before noon to meet up with Brian somewhere. I hope they're going to the bondage place to work on our next restraint devices. Angie and I meet for lunch and share our experiences from last night.

"He came in your mouth?" Angie asks, wide eyed. "Did you swallow it?"

"No. I continued to work the head of his dick with my mouth for a few seconds after he came, so I just sort of let it dribble back out. He didn't seem to notice. Or if he did, he didn't care."

"I've given Brian several blowjobs, but I haven't had the courage to let him cum in my mouth. Maybe I'll do it tonight. We have another date."

"Where are you going?" I ask.

"Nowhere. I'm making my special carbonara and then we're going to fuck until we pass out."

"Connor and I are going to dinner and then dancing for a while. We'll go back to my place for a repeat of last night except for the blowjob. I just want him to fuck me. I can't get enough of him."

And that's exactly the way Saturday evening goes for the two of us.

On Sunday, Angie and the twins join me for dinner at my parent's house. All the other family members are occupied elsewhere so it is just the six of us. The twins are very charming so Mom and Dad are drawn more fully under their spell. As usual, I can't help but wonder what my folks would do if they ever saw our videos. Probably have simultaneous strokes.

Everyone sleeps in their own beds Sunday night. Angie and I are both a little sore from all the pounding we've been taking.

****

On Tuesday, Angie and I take a long lunch with permission from our boss.

"We have to take care of the three-way issue this week," I tell her and she agrees.

"Have you given any more thought to doing away with the masks?" she asks.

'I have. I think the way to do it is to have the twins wear their disguises. We still won't know who's who, but we'll be able to see and participate much better."

"Perfect!" she exclaims. "I don't know why I didn't think of that."

"And here's another thought," I continue. "Maybe it makes sense not to have two three-ways on the same night. The guys might appreciate a little break and we'll all have more flexibility about timing."

"That just means one of us has to stay home alone while the other is taking on the twins. But that's pretty much the way it was the first time," Angie offers.

"How would you feel about that?" I ask. "I mean knowing that I'm going to meet the twins and they are going to fuck me but you won't get your turn until a day or so later."

"Doesn't bother me at all," she responds with a smile. "I would just insist that I get my turn the next night and you'll have to sit home thinking about what the twins are doing to me."

"The idea really appeals to me," I continue. "It might be exciting to sit home and think about Connor and Brian fucking you half to death and then have Connor come over to my place right afterwards and do me."

"What a slut you are!" declares Angie with a laugh.

"I know. Then maybe the next night you can do something slutty with Brian."

"I would never consider such a thing," she replies haughtily.

"Of course you wouldn't," I reply with a wicked grin. "In the meantime, we probably ought to set up something so we can talk to the twins."

"That's easy," she says. "I'll call Brian and tell him they have to invite us over for dinner on Friday night."

Leave it to Angie to take the direct approach.

****

We go to happy hour with the twins after work on Wednesday, then to dinner, and then to our respective apartments for a little conventional sex. Actually a lot of conventional sex.

Angie drives us to the twin's house at six-thirty on Friday night. The men have a pitcher of martinis at the ready. We sit at the breakfast bar and chat with them over our drinks as they finish preparing what turns out to be a wonderful chateaubriand.

Later on, with dinner over, the cheesecake eaten, and coffee with brandy in front of us, I start the conversation Angie and I rehearsed earlier in the day.

"We'd like to talk to you about the three-ways," I begin.

"We would like to have more of them," Angie says, "but there are some changes we'd like to make."

The twins stare back at us like deer in the headlights.

"We aren't going to use our apartments again. Having a threesome in our beds and then having normal sex soon after is too awkward," I continue, "so we need to have them on neutral ground."

"We came up with two ideas;" Angie says, "one of the rooms at the bondage place or here at your house."

"We also decided we don't want to have them on the same night like we did before," I announce, "but we don't want them to be very far apart either, or one of us will get very crabby waiting for her turn."

The men finally recover enough to join the conversation. "Anything else?" asks Connor with the twin's patented boyish grin.

"Yes," Angie replies. "We don't want to wear the masks anymore but we don't want to know who's who either, so you guys will have to wear your disguises."

The twins are silent for a couple of beats and then Brian announces that using their house is the better of the two alternatives in his opinion. Connor nods his head in agreement. I am thrilled that the conversation is going so well, and then Connor throws us a curve.

"We agree to all that stuff," he announces. "When would you like to start?"

"Well...uh...uh," Angie stammers. We had not anticipated being put on the hot seat.

"How about tonight?" Brian suggests.

Now it's our turn to sit there wide eyed with confusion.

"I...uh...I...uh," I start out intelligently.

"I think that's a great idea," Connor says. "We always bring our disguises home to be washed after we use them. They're here and ready to go. Why don't you two figure out who will participate tonight and meet us in my bedroom in fifteen minutes. Mine is the one on the left as you come down the hallway. When you enter the room, close the door and get undressed."

And with that, both men get up from the table and leave the room, presumably to don their costumes somewhere and then wait in Connor's bedroom.

"Fuck! Now what?" Angie inquires.

"That is the last thing I expected," I declare. "What'll we do?"

"We only have three choices; we leave now, we go tell them we need a little time, or we flip a coin," Angie says, having regained a little of her composure.

We stare at each other for a long time. Finally, I pull my purse off the back of the chair and rummage around inside for a quarter. Angie looks startled.

"That was a quick decision," she says. "Are you sure we're ready to do this?"

"What would make us more ready?" I ask.

"I see what you mean. Flip the god damned coin and I'll call it."

Angie calls heads and heads it is. "Oh fuck," she whispers. "What will you do while I'm in there?" she asks, suddenly concerned that I'll be left all alone.

"Wait here until they are finished with you," I reply with a grin. "You're my ride home."

There is nothing more to talk about. We hold hands across the table and watch the clock. Before we know it, the fifteen minutes are up and Angie rises to her feet. 

"Enjoy yourself," I tell her and then stand to kiss her on the cheek. "Tell the twins I want my turn tomorrow night. And when you're done, tell them I want Connor to come over to my place a few minutes after we leave and I don't want him to wash up first."

Angie gives me a long look and then a sultry smile.

"What a tramp you are," she says, still smiling, and then marches off to Connor's room.

I don't know exactly what to do with myself after she leaves, so I decide to listen in. Tip-toeing across the room and into the hall, I position myself just outside the bedroom door.

I don't exactly know how to describe the next forty five minutes or so. At the bondage place, on occasion I could faintly hear Angie respond to what was happening to her when they had us in separate rooms. During our last session, we were in the same room together. But this is different. I can plainly hear everything and it turns out to be one of the most erotic experiences of my entire life.

I listen with rapt attention as my boyfriend and his brother fuck my best friend and occasional lover, driving her into orgasm after orgasm. She moans, yelps, and wails almost continuously. From time to time she makes demands or gives instructions and then screams out her appreciation when they comply with her wishes. The bed squeaks occasionally and the headboard bangs against the wall every few minutes. I can hear the sounds of flesh striking flesh as one twin or the other fucks her very hard.

I lubricate heavily from the beginning. When I reach up under my dress, my panties are soaked. I can't stand it any longer. Slipping my fingers under the flimsy material, I lean against the wall and give myself a sensational orgasm with one hand while I keep the other hand clamped tightly over my mouth. I don't want to distract Angie or the twins. My knees buckle as I finish and I slide down the wall to the floor.

I know it's over when one twin lets out an primal roar and the other follows suit a short time later. Quickly getting to my feet, I race to my place at the table, I am sitting there as calmly as possible when Angie makes an appearance a few minutes later.

She is dressed, but she's a mess, and she's still a little wobbly as she walks over to join me at the table. Her hair is everywhere. What little makeup she wears is smeared all over her face. Her blouse is half in and half out of the waistband of her skirt. She's carrying her high heels in one hand and her bra in the other.

"I'll drive," I tell her. "You should be recovered enough to drive home by the time we get to my place." 

She fishes around in her purse and then hands me her keys. I help her out to the car. On the way home she tells me that I am in for the time of my life tomorrow night. I tell her how I eavesdropped and the effect it had on me. She is very pleased. I tell her I want her to drive me over to the twin's house tomorrow night for my three-way and then do exactly what I did. The idea excites her.

Connor arrives a few minutes after Angie departs.

"Go into my bedroom, take off all your clothes, and lie down on the bed," I tell him without preamble. He looks at me with a slight smile on his face and then heads off to do as I ask.

I give him a few minutes and then follow him into the room. He is lying there, already partially erect. I am still highly aroused from listening to them fuck Angie. Although he does not know what I did, he senses my arousal and is being affected by it. As I undress, I tell him to open his legs. He complies and his cock surges to its full size. He knows what I am going to do.

'Who ejaculated last," I ask him. He looks startled for a few seconds and then answers my question.

"I did," he finally replies. It is exactly the answer I was hoping for. I lie down between his thighs and take the head of his cock into my mouth, knowing that I am tasting Angie, Connor, and Brian as I do so. The thought thrills me.

I work the head of his cock for a minute or two and then climb aboard. I want him inside me. I ride him like the wind for several minutes and then cum with a shriek as he spurts inside me. I believe I have blunted the sharp edge of my need for sex enough to survive until tomorrow night when he and Brian will fuck me together.

****

A year or so later............

It has been a busy and rewarding year. Angie and I continued to go to the bondage house about once a month for an hour or so of extraordinary physical pleasure. We enjoyed monthly threesomes as well. We staggered the encounters so that we were doing one activity or the other about every two weeks. It was perfect timing. Nothing became stale.

We still didn't know for sure which twin was fucking us during the bondage sessions, and we didn't care. Common sense told us that Brian was my partner while Connor was doing Angie, but we couldn't prove it.

All sorts of wonderful restraint devices and machines continued to emerge from the workshop and get used on us in the rooms up front. We had countless, exquisite orgasms. 

My threshold of pain increased as time wore on. About midway through the year, I had my first orgasm with no stimulation other than the vigorous application of a large hand, probably Brian's, to my bottom. It was a landmark occasion for me and I will be forever grateful to Angie for introducing me to the physical pleasures of spanking.

The rest of the time we all carried on normally; Connor with me and Brian with Angie. Over time, we realized that we had fallen in love with the two men. Talk of marriage crept into our conversations with increasing frequency and eventually proposals were made and accepted. The twins sold their house, rented a large apartment, and each couple started looking for a new residence. Angie's lease expired so she gave up her place and moved in with me for a while. We made the most of our time together.




On a Slippery Slope Ch. 07



My mother stopped speaking to us for a couple of weeks when we refused to have large weddings for her to plan. Angie and I dug in and outlasted her. Finally, she relented and we got the informal backyard double wedding we both wanted.

We all honeymooned together, acting just like normal couples. After spending a glorious week in the Virgin Islands, we returned a month or so ago and slipped easily back into our routines.

By mutual agreement, we decided to retain my apartment. With the twin's encouragement, Angie and I meet there for sex whenever the urge overtakes us. Since the apartment is no longer my residence, it became one of our options for the three-ways. The twins installed cameras in the bedroom that supply live feeds to the large screen television in the living room. From time to time, Angie or I choose to watch as the other entertains the twins in the bedroom rather than just listen outside the door.

Bondage remains an important part of our lives. It is what sent us down the path we have chosen. The twins have now invented a sufficient number of restraint devices and fucking machines so they no longer need to devote so much time to the effort. We enjoy bondage sessions whenever we wish and so much variety is available that nothing we do seems repetitious.

Our lifestyle suits everyone perfectly. We have active sex lives at home but the twins get to enjoy both of us at regular intervals. Angie and I consider it an even trade because we are certainly enjoying the two of them.

THE END

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