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Soap

By: Joseki Ko



Well I figured my mouth would get me in trouble sometime. The words that Master doesn't like slip in and out of my speech at time. I don't use them badly I guess in my mind it doesn't always sound bad. I never use the big swears. I think that my mind is trained to use only the ones that wouldn't get me kicked out of class in high school. We could get away with 'hell', 'damn' and 'shit'. I think it was because of where I grew up. Everyone was really laid back including the teachers.

So anyway, the soap. At the time I only had caress soap in the house. Very nice to wash with really bad to have to put in my mouth. I went in and sat down on the toilet in the bathroom. Looking at the soap. I remembered back when I was little and my step dad did this to me or my mom did. 'Soap in two minutes, then out.' I could see the clock on the night stand. As soon as the number turned over I opened my mouth and put the soap in.

I instantly started blinking my eyes because the soap is just gross and nasty. I pretty much decided that I never would buy the soap again. Having such a small mouth and that was a new bar of soap, there was really no where for my tongue to go but directly onto the bar of soap. I started counting off the seconds in my head. I was mad at myself because I looked to stupid with the bar of soap sticking out of my mouth.

I hated it. I hated that He made me do it and I hated feeling stupid and worthless. I run into a problem with punishments. They slam full force into the past. I pushed the thoughts of the stupid reasons and excuses that were used when I was little to make me have to do some humiliating punishment.

Looking at the clock I realized that only a minute had gone by at this point. I wanted to scream but obviously couldn't because the soap was in my mouth. I noticed too that I was crying. Stupid girl, keep your mouth shut and in check and you won't have to sit here stupidly with a bar of soap in your mouth. Burning your mouth, throat and making your stomach hurt.

I vowed then that I would not use language that would get this treatment again. Especially if I had to do it in front of Him or others. I was humiliated enough. And I knew that I would retreat into my shell if he made me to it in front of Him or others. Then I would get in trouble for that. I couldn't 'win'.

Finally the time went away. Getting the soap in was one thing. Pulling it back out meant that I had to scrap it against my teeth. I finally managed to get it all out and promptly proceeded to throw up in the toilet. Great, soap and vomit in my mouth. Moving over to the sink I proceeded to clean out my mouth. I rinsed it out with water, realizing that activated the soap inside. I held my nose to desensitize my tongue. I grabbed my toothbrush, wanting both tastes out of my mouth immediately. I brushed my teeth three times trying to get the soap out.

I knew from the past that there was just no way to get it all out. I sighed at that point and stopped brushing my teeth and used some mouthwash. I went and got some tea. I sat down drinking it and writing this essay, still vividly tasting the soap that just doesn't go away.

Master I will try to be a good girl in the future and not use words that will make you angry. I know that you don’t want me to swear because it’s not lady like. I will try really hard not to disappoint you in the future. I will try to be a good slave. I understand that you discipline me to make me a better slave and even though I really hate the punishments I am glad that you take the time to do them so that I will be a more pleasing girl to you.

Master a slave thanks you for taking the time to punish me, a slave will be more pleasing in the future.

Soap on a Rope



I had all but forgotten our big fight by the time we broke away from the remainder of the party and headed for the elevator. It had been a great evening and Marie and I had a nice time catching up with family and friends gathered from all over the country for the celebration. 

We waved and smiled as the doors slid shut and cut us off from the noise and bright lights of the hotel lobby, like the throwing of a magical mute switch. But as soon as we were by ourselves I realized that her jovial attitude had been nothing but a skilled act, and the time had come to drop the curtain. Oh yes, our fight was still on and our nice evening together had done nothing to change that. Marie's brilliant smile melted away like a thin sheet of ice in the spring to be replaced by an expression of stony contempt.

I slumped my shoulders and sighed. 

I was rewarded with a scowl before she turned to press the button. She ignored me for the duration of the elevator ride and when we arrived at the eight floor she walked briskly ahead of me as if we were two strangers who just happened to be going in the same direction. 

To be honest I didn't mind the walking ahead part too much because it provided me with an excellent view. Even pushing forty and after having given birth twice Marie was still a sight to behold. Her long curly red hair and the way the green silk dress clung to her fit but deliciously curved body made her look ten years younger. Hell, if we weren't married already I'd have bagged her ass faster than a cheetah in heat. My cock agreed with the assessment and I felt a telltale stiffness in my nether regions. I guessed I would need a long cold shower before bedtime.

We reached the door to our room and Marie held out her hand for the keycard. As I handed it over she spotted my straining crotch area. 

"In your dreams buster," she sneered and opened the door to our suite.

Yep, a long cold shower indeed.

****

I sat on the bed releasing my sore feet from my shiny but not very comfortable dress shoes attempting to reason with my grumpy wife.

"God dammit Marie! You've been pissed for over a week now. I'm really sorry I accepted the invitation without checking with you first. But it's Harrys wedding for God's sake and I thought..."

Marie came out from the bathroom all guns blazing.

"And it's our first vacation together for over a year Dave! Did you realize that? I had reservations for a bungalow in a quiet Bermuda beach resort where we could have relaxed and recharged our batteries. Made love under a moonlit sky to the sound of the ocean and the tropical night."

She inhaled sharply in preparation for the coup de grace.

"But instead we find ourselves STUCK IN ANNOYING LAS FUCKING VEGAS WITH SOME OF THE MOST ANNOYING MEMBERS OF YOUR ANNOYING FAMILY!"

I wisely said nothing.

Stomping angrily back to the bathroom Marie swallowed a couple of sleeping pills and washed them down with a glass of water. She then proceeded to drop her robe and slip on the ugly pink "no sex tonight"-shirt she sometimes slept with when the temperature was low. And despite this being Nevada there was definitely a chill in the air when she slid under the blanket facing away from me and turned out the bedside light in her side.

"Fucking sand all over the place but no beach," she mumbled sourly.

I couldn't help myself. "So I got it fifty percent right, didn't I?"

"Fuck you Dave," she sneered.

I was considering a smooth retort along the line of 'Yes please', but decided to curb my teasing. I don't know whether or not it's true what they say about redheads and temper, but Marie was living proof that the saying was fitting for at least one of them.

So I decided to refrain from tempting fate and settled for a "Goodnight honey."

I didn't expect a reply and, as predicted, none was given.

****

Sure, I knew my loving wife well. 

Which is what you would expect after fifteen, mostly happy, years of marriage. In fact I was still every bit as much in love with her on that day as I had been on our wedding day, and our kids couldn't have wished for a better mom. Add to this the fact that our sex life was good and reasonably frequent -- except when she was pissed at me - and it should be evident why I generally was as happy as a pig in mud. Marie was the love of my life, period.

"But she can sure as hell carry a grudge," I sighed as I leaned back on the bed with my hands behind my head.

Sometimes I wished she would just blow the hell up and get it over with. Go nuclear on me, smash a few plates, scream till the neighbors call the police, go out with her friends and get shitfaced while agreeing that all men are assholes and so on. But no Sir - not my Marie. She would punish me relentless with a wall of silent resentment for days, weeks and sometimes even months. 

And no sex of course. 

Goes without saying.

Damn...

****

I woke up on the bed fully clothed. Shit! I couldn't afford to mess up the suit - it was needed for the following day and there was no time to get it pressed. My watch showed 2 a.m. and my mouth tasted like stale alcohol. Yuck! To top it off I needed to pee like a racehorse. I got up and staggered to the bathroom still feeling the effect from the wine and the - way too many - drinks.

After a quick shower and the usual bathroom activities my clothes were folded up neatly, the suit looked salvageable and I was ready for bed. Actually I was ready for fucking Marie but the way things looked at the moment the bed would have to do. The bed as in, 'a place for sleeping.'

I opened the bathroom door and froze in my tracks. There was somebody on the bed next to her!

Crap!

A slightly pudgy middle-aged guy as far as I could tell. My best guesstimation would be mid fifties and his wrinkled white shirt and black pants pegged him as a hotel guest who had been partying too hard and too wet. Not unlike like the one I saw in the mirror before my shower, except for the fact that I was younger, slimmer and my suit looked better. 

All this information zipped through my brain in an instant while I was struggling to process the fact that the guy also had a hand under the nightshirt of my sleeping wife.

I quickly withdrew to the bathroom and closed the door. Oh shit! There was no telling what type of person this guy might be. Logically he was probably just what he looked like - a drunken partygoer who had entered the wrong room - but in theory he could be some kind of hotel rapist in disguise. The guy looked fairly big too and probably had at least 50 pound on me. Not good, even if it wasn't pure muscle.

A weapon!

Fuck yeah! I needed a goddamned weapon. Preferably a rocket launcher or an AK-47 - but lacking those options, at least something heavy and deadly.

A quick inventory of the bathroom made me settle for a fairly massive Soap-on-a-Rope. I hefted the braided cord in my hand and immediately felt a lot better. Apparently the intruder was still unaware of my presence so I would have the element of surprise on my side too. Not bad odds, as they say in Vegas.

"This is the most powerful hand soap in the world. C'mon punk. Make my day."

Yeah I'm a goofball sometimes. So sue me.

I killed the bathroom lights and carefully opened the door to the main suite, ready to sneak up on the dude ninja-style and soap his wife-groping ass with extreme prejudice.

I peeked out.

Yep, he definitely had a hand between my still sleeping wife's legs and it was now so far wedged in between her thighs there was no telling what exactly he was fondling in there.

"Bastard," I thought to myself. "Get ready for some serious punishment"

But for some reason I didn't move.

Fuck!

I was just standing there like an idiot watching some stranger finger my wife! It wasn't that I was paralyzed or anything like that. Not at all. But of a sudden I simply didn't 'want' to move. 

What the hell was wrong with me? The asshole was groping Marie for Christ sake! I've decked people for less. At the very least I should have dragged him out of our bed and stomped his cheating gonads to mush. But I did nothing. Nada. Zilch.

At this point I realized that my cock stood straight out like a flagpole on a building. Obviously my little head was every bit as fascinated by the view as my big head. Yep, that's one of the problems with being naked. It's really hard to hide your true feelings.

Right there and then I made the pivotal decision of the night: I was 'not' going to interfere.

Oh, make no mistake. At the first sign of any hurt to my wife the last thing he would remember before waking up in a hospital bed would be the terrifying sight of a naked man with a hard-on entering from the bathroom and proceeding to beat him to a bloody pulp with a Soap-on-a-Rope. Marie was a bitch but she was MY bitch, and I would die before letting anybody hurt her.

In any event hurting her seemed far from the guys mind. Quite the contrary I would say, and I could swear that Marie had moved her upper leg slightly in order to allow him easier access to the goodies - almost as if she liked the attention. Maybe she thought it was me? Or maybe she was having one of her helpless-in-the-hands-of-Brad-Pitt dreams?

The idea made my cock even harder, if there is such a thing as 'harder than hard', and I began stroking myself. 

A few minutes later the guy withdrew his hand and licked his thumb. Guess there was little doubt about what finger he had used and where he had used it. He seemed to like the taste because his next dirty deed was unzipping his pants and sliding them off. His cock, now freed from any constraining garments, stood out in firm readiness. 

Yes I DID take note of the size. Hey! I'm a guy, ok? Competition is in my very blood and my caveman-brain demanded that I assessed him.

He wasn't huge, but from where I stood it looked as if he might have had a bit over me. Lengthwise we were fairly equal, but it was clear that his cock was thicker than mine and had an almost ridiculously large head. It looked like a mutant mushroom from Planet X. The whole thing was poking out from a thick unruly nest of curly grey hair, indicating a disdain for grooming and manscaping.

"If he's married somebody ought to give his wife a fucking weed whacker for Christmas," I mused. "Marie would freak, if she was conscious."

Pants discarded the guy rolled into a spooning position, and though his cock was now out of sight it was clear that he was masturbating against her. The whole idea was mind-blowing to say the least and I had to retreat to the bathroom and chew down on a towel for a minute in order to still my ragged breathing.

Man, I felt like a sick son of a bitch. Oh I said that already? Right. 

Regaining my composure I returned to my spot in the darkened doorway.

The guy was no longer masturbating. Instead he was pushing his groin against Marie's ass in an obvious attempt to enter her. Apparently not successfully because he immediately changed his approach. With a strained groan he got up on his knees, rolled Marie onto her stomach and spread her legs. She still didn't react as he unceremoniously moved his bulk between her thighs and proceeded to lie down on top of her.

After a bit of wriggling his pale hairy ass began moving back and fort in a steady rhythm and at this point there was no mistaking what was happening.

The guy was fucking Marie. 

I palmed my face for a second and once again raged against my own passivity. "What the fuck is wrong in this scenario? Some idiot is literally raping my sleeping wife right before my eyes! And I'm standing here like a moron! What the fuck? This is sick. I've gotta do something..."

But still I didn't do shit, other than standing transfixed in the shadow of the dark doorway kneading my iron hard cock and shaking with excitement while Mr. Mushroom-dick pounded away in the pussy that had been my exclusive domain for almost two decades. 

Marie supplied the next surprise when she suddenly orgasmed.

How I could tell? 

Well, after watching her do it thousands of times over the years I knew the signs intimately. First she went rigid as a board for a few seconds, which was easy to tell from the way her feet stretched. Then, as the tension was released, she convulsed in a series of little orgasmic spasms accompanied by suitable "ugh" sounds as if somebody was punching her stomach. I knew from experience that her pussy would be squeezing his cock powerfully at this point thanks to her regular kegels, and that never failed to get me off if I happened to be inside her at the time.

Yeah after years of marriage I knew my wife's orgasmic response like the palm of my hand and if she didn't get off in a major way right there you can tattoo a bowtie on my ass and call me Rumpelstiltskin. So I guess I was right. She DID enjoy it - at least on a subconscious level.

I increased the intensity of my wanking, with the intention of timing my ejaculation with the dude. That would mask my gasping in case he had good hearing. Sure I felt superior brandishing the invincible Soap-on-a-Rope of Doom (tm) in my left hand, but as the kung-fu master said, "the sweetest victory is achieved without fighting." 

However to my astonishment he kept pumping that pussy as if he hadn't noticed a damn thing. Worse, he didn't even 'attempt' to follow her orgasm with his strokes. Marie's pleasure clearly wasn't a concern for this asshat. He was simply using her for getting off. Treating her like nothing more than a common jizz rag...

Not that my own conduct was any better, now that I though about it. However she was my wife and spouses are allowed to use each other for sexual pleasure. Mr. Fearless_Fuzzdick on the other hand was a guest and had NO business disrespecting Marie. I filed my resentment for later retrieval. 

Checking my watch I noticed that it had been a full 10 minutes! This guy had some real stamina for sure. Not that it would save him from my wrath of course, but I was grudgingly impressed. At this intensity I would have blown my wad by now or at least have been forced to take a cunnilingus-break or two.

Another mystery was how the hell Marie could have had her mind blown in the orgasmic sense of the word without waking up -- sleeping pills or not.

Well, turned out she couldn't. She was gradually beginning to move and shift under Mr. Steam_hammer. Probably in an attempt to turn around and see what was going on, but to no avail. The guy didn't even change his cadence and proceeded to ignore her. Groaning Marie struggled on for a minute or two, apparently still only half awake.

I heard her drowsy voice, "Dave...get...what are... you.... what... oh... oh...GOD!"

The last yell cut off sharply as another raging orgasm surged through her body. And this one was clearly significantly higher on the Richter scale. The spasms made her buckle under the guy like a rodeo bull and the usual "ugh"-sounds were now replaced by a series of loud screams. She held on to the bedposts for dear life and Mr. Pumpington even had to shift his position slightly in order to keep her pinned.

Yet STILL he didn't falter. I mean, come ON! This idiot had now been sliding his fat cock back and forth in my wife for the better part of fifteen minutes and survived two of her most powerful orgasms ever, without giving any indication of even being on the edge. He was fucking her like a dyke with a strap-on, oblivious of anything except pumping her pussy.

Correction: MY pussy.

Despite my arousal I started to feel pangs of jealousy and tightened my grip on the Soap-on-a-Rope. The fact that Marie had stopped fighting and appeared to be pushing back against his strokes to get him deeper might have had something to do with my rising feelings of regret.

"She's not supposed to enjoy herself too much, dammit!" 

Maybe it was time for me to put a stop to this game.

But my throbbing and precum dripping cock clearly disagreed, so I didn't stop it. If I had ever been this aroused before I couldn't remember when, and there was no room left for rational thoughts in my head.

At that point I had to make a conscious effort to avoid touching my cock because I was only a couple of strokes away from orgasm. And there was NO fucking way I was gonna stand here shooting off while somebody else had his cock in MY p...

I heard Marie's voice again; "Oh Jesus. Oh God. Shit! Shit! Shit!"

And yet another strong orgasm crashed into her like an all-consuming tidal wave. She thrashed even wilder than before and clawed uncontrollably at the sheets while emitting a series of hoarse tortured screams that hardly sounded human. This could have been a scene from The Exorcist if there had been a catholic priest and a few buckets of green goo near the bed... and of course if there hadn't been a big hairy ass moving up and down between her flailing legs.

Finally it seemed like Mr. Fuck-a-palooza had reached the end of his uncanny endurance. With a final power-stroke he slammed his cock as far as possible inside my wife while roaring like a sumo-wrestler with really bad hemorrhoids taking a shit. 

This pushed Marie over the edge and right into the path of another orgasmic tsunami that launched her into a complete frenzy. I had never seen or heard her act like that before and I was almost grateful for the 220 pounds of man-meat holding her in place. She screamed like a banshee and ground against the guy while I could only assume that his cock was busy pumping her full of his seed.

I wish I could have seen my own facial expression right there. My unprotected fertile wife was completely out of control with raw animalistic lust and was milking this asshole stranger like there was no tomorrow!

This was so wrong!

This was so dangerous!

This was the fucking most exhilarating experience of my life!

And then it was my turn to loose it.

A warm buzzing feeling spread out from my groin and I came like never before. Sure I've read about whole-body orgasms but never actually believed in them or experienced one. Not until that moment. I didn't even touch my cock but was vaguely aware that it had started shooting spurts of cum while I staggered back inside the bathroom and dropped to the floor. Yep, that orgasm literally swept me off my feet, and for a while I was on the floor enveloped in a cloud of pure orgasmic bliss.

Oh my fucking god it was intense!

****

In the afterglow I slowly regained my composure and got shakily to my feet. For a second I fought the urge to lie down and go to sleep on the spot. Nope -- couldn't do that. I needed to check on Marie right away, and it was also high time for Mr. Hairy_butts to vacate the premises, - voluntarily or otherwise. My orgasm heralded the return of my jealousy and ability to reason - and this time my little head was too spent to protest. I wanted the guys ass GONE with a capital G - even if it meant using the Soap-on-a-Rope.

Fortunately for him he had left the room already. I found Marie alone on the bed -- once again unconscious - and I could hear sounds from the entryway as if the door to our suite was open. I quickly donned a complimentary hotel robe and ran to the door.

It was indeed wide open and a tall slightly chubby middle aged man was standing outside in the hallway glancing confused from side to side as if he didn't quite know where he was or how he got there. His eyes looked unfocused and he was holding his pants in his hand instead of wearing them. Under his loose shirt I spotted the dripping tip of the cock that had just given my wife a great fuck with multiple orgasms. A stranger's cock drenched in Marie's juices. My anger rose.

The guy turned to me without any sign of recognition and muttered something sounding like "Woh..."

That was all he had time to say before I swiftly grabbed his pants and unceremoniously slammed the door in his face.




Soap On A Rope - The Aftermath



"What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas."

Or so the saying goes. What most people don't realize however is the fact that it refers to your money rather than your reputation.

"Whatever amount of cash you bring to Vegas stays in Vegas."

Oh well. What is cash for, if not for burning while having fun? After all you only live once. Which was exactly what I had told myself a few weeks ago when I picked up my Dodge Charger SRT8 at the dealer. Among the things a man need in order to maintain his testosterone level is a good set of wheels and...

"HONK!"

Huh? Somebody dared intruding on my inner monologue by honking. 

I glanced to the right, and noticed a group of giddy kids in a Mustang convertible in the next lane. I rolled down the window.

"What's up guys?"

The girl at the wheel sent me a seductive smile. She was hot in a sultry and slightly artificial way.

"My oh my." She cooed. "That's a mighty beefy car you have there daddy. Whatcha been feeding it?"

"Mustangs." I answered with a predatory smile, and stepped on it as the light turned green. The kids disappeared in my rear view mirror like drops of water on a hot surface.

"Yeah, it definitely works," I though to myself.

I could practically feel my balls growing by the minute by the sound of the powerful V8. All I needed now was a hairy chest and a Tom Selleck mustache to go with it and my ascend to ultimate manhood was assured.

But first things first. I had a little psychological issue to deal with and needed to enlist some professional assistance.

****

Consequently I later found myself in the tastefully furnished office of doctor Laci Horowich; allegedly one of the leading experts in behavioral psychology in the area. I've gotten the name from my secretary who ensured me that she was good.

The doctor turned out to be a fairly well preserved brunette about my age with an annoying habit of never looking directly at the person she was talking to.

"Welcome Mr. Connor," she said to the desk lamp with a bright smile. "Please have a seat."

"Dave," I said. "My friends and my shrink call me Dave."

"Dave it is then. And how can I be of service to you Dave?"

Yeah, I know what you're thinking. But you might as well pull your mind out of the gutter right now. I'm into feisty redheads and happened to be married to one, so I had no room for brunettes in my life. My need for doctor Horowich was strictly in her professional capacity. I was still struggling with making sense of my reaction to watching my wife getting ravished in her sleep by a drunken stranger. I needed some sort of scientific explanation before going in sane.

"This is quite embarrassing to talk about doc, so you'd better be serious about that patient-doctor confidentiality."

"Don't worry Dave. It's one of my professions most sacred principles. Unless you reveal a plan to commit murder or an act of terror, everything – and I mean, everything - said in this office is privileged information."

She looked reassuringly at the penholder.

"Ok doc. Well, it all began when I received an invite to a family wedding in Las Vegas..."

And I then proceeded to tell her the entire story that I shared with you a while back under the title "Soap on a Rope." If you have no fucking idea what I'm babbling about, you should go read it now and continue with this story later.

Still here? Ok, well the doc never interrupted me, but was scribbling away on her iPad while I was telling my tale. Or maybe she was playing Angry Birds in Space, who knows? As long as I got my answer she could dance a Scottish Jig while gurgling Gershwin for all I cared.

"So what do you say doc? Am I a sick fuck or do you hear this kinda shit all the time?"

She put down her iPad and nodded thoughtful at my coffee mug.

"That was quite an engaging tale Dave. No, I do not hear something like that every day. You are not an ordinary man."

"And what does that mean? Give it to me straight please. Am I one of them wimpy-ass cuckolds you hear so much about?" 

"No, far from it." she said and added, "Not that there is anything wrong with choosing a cuckolding lifestyle Dave. Different folks, different strokes you know."

"Yeah whatever. But then, what the heck am I doc?"

"I could lecture you about Herne's syndrome for hours, but if you want it in clear text: You are a hunter Dave."

I had to laugh at that. Doctor Horowich didn't seem offended and sent the intercom a warm smile.

"No offence doc but I friggin hate hunting. And fishing too btw. Last time I was out with my cousin I fell asleep in the boat and dropped his three hundred dollar fishing rod into the lake. He hasn't spoken to me since, and I even paid him for it."

"You misunderstand Dave," doctor Horowich said. "You are a hunter of women. Not fish or animals. Your story has all the hallmarks of Herne's syndrome: You watched another man lay claim to your wife, you out-maneuvered him, took your wife back and punished the usurper. It was the thrill of competing with another man for your wife that gave you such a high. The thrill of the hunt. Not the humiliation."

I felt a deep sense of relief.

"Not a cuckold, eh?"

"No," she assured her laptop. "A cuckold thrives on humiliation and will typically react with submission when faced with a threat to his relationship. You, on the other hand, would see it as a challenge and fight back."

Doctor Horowich continued.

"Actually your personality is closer to that of a voyeur. Stalking the prey is part of the hunt after all. That's why you got aroused watching your wife being engaged sexually with another man. I suspect you would have enjoyed it almost as much, if it hadn't been her but two complete strangers. Where you differ though is in your desire to be physically involved and not merely watching. Had you been a true voyeur you wouldn't have had the need to have sexual intercourse with your wife after watching her. Masturbation would have been enough for you." 

****

On the way home from the doc I felt pretty good about myself despite being a couple of hundred bucks poorer. So I was a hunter? A ferocious tiger on the prowl. A shark in a fishbowl. King of the jungle. Ruler of the food chain. Yeah, I could live with that.

"Tarzan Kreegah Bundolo!"

Though I did not expect to get the opportunity to 'hunt' anybody ever again. What happened in Vegas was a fluke. A conjunction of multiple unlikely events coalescing into a once in a lifetime experience. And it would be a cold day in hell before Marie knowingly would agree to any kind of swinging or hotwifing . Not that I'd want her to anyway. Even amazing orgasms aren't worth risking the love of your life for.

But maybe I could do the voyeur thing solo sometime. Like stalking the neighborhood and peep in on other people fucking? Naah, better forget it. It would be too damn embarrassing if I got caught.

****

For a few months life went on in the Connor household with nothing interesting to report. Marie and I lived the suburban life like millions of other families with kids, work, family, friends, hobbies and so on.

Our only recurring point of tension being my, according to Marie, stubborn refusal to drive the SUV. But come on! SUV's aren't cars. They're little boxes on wheels that will eventually turn men into gerbils if they spend too much time inside them. Sure, I would drive the damn thing if the kids needed me to, but otherwise the only mode of automotive transportation for me was my trusty Charger. So what, if it got a lower mileage? Gas is nothing but rotten dinosaurs anyway and if that ain't recycling I don't know what is. 

Incidentally it was the very same Charger I was busy washing when Marie came out and told me about the invitation. Not right away of course; she had to bitch a little about my beloved car first. You can't break tradition after all.

"You know Dave, it's funny how I always have a hard time telling whether you're washing that stupid car or masturbating it."

Women just don't get it. I tried to explain anyway.

"A man who doesn't take good care of his car is no real man. And surely you prefer your husband to be a real man, right?"

"But seriously. Why are you wasting several hours each weekend hand-washing that thing Dave? I drive mine through the machine at the gas station. It takes ten minutes and I get free coffee while I wait."

"Yours isn't a car," I reminded her. "It's an SUV. Nobody cares what it looks like. This is a real car and it deserves a real wash. Besides I'm relaxing this way Grasshopper. Washing your car is totally Zen."

She sighed and I knew she had given up for now. Time for her to get down to business; the real reason for her intrusion in my car-time.

"By the way Cora just called. We are invited to a party Friday in two weeks; the week the kids are away visiting my parents. It's costume."

"Hell no! In her dreams! I'm a grown man Marie. There's no fucking way I'm gonna play dress-up at some chick party."

"That's what I told her Dave. There's no fucking way my grown husband would attend a pirate-themed costume party."

"Pirate-themed, you say?"

"Yup."

"So everybody get to dress up like a pirate?"

"Oh yeah. It's even required."

"And you can choose any pirate costume you want?"

"Naturally."

She had me already, and she knew it too. 

"You know honey," I said casually. "Ben and Cora are really good friends and we have known them for years. We shouldn't let them down. Please call her back and accept."

"If you say so my beloved husband," Marie acknowledged with a sly grin. "You are the head of the house after all."

"And tonight I'm gonna shiver ye timbers. Yarr!" I replied.

It was nice hearing Marie laugh, and I was actually looking forward to that party. What can I say? I totally loved pirates. There are just some things you never outgrow. 

****

Even the best-laid plans can fall victim to circumstance, so naturally I was tied up at work for an extra hour on the day of the party. It was the Levinson account so I had little choice. But I finally made it home.

It was time to say goodbye to David Connor and hello to Dave Sparrow; Scourge of the Seven Seas.

"Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me."

****

When I pulled up in front of Ben and Cora's mansion I was in a total freebooter mood, just looking for a village to pillage. I put on the obligatory half-mask and leaned on the doorbell.

And leaned.

And leaned.

SHIT! Nobody came to the door.

Which wasn't too much of a surprise to be honest. I could hear the music as soon as I got out of the car and nobody would be able to hear the doorbell in that ruckus. I would probably have to ram the door for anybody to notice. So I started around the house instead, heading for the pool area, where I assumed the party was. Besides, it was a fitting entrance for me. Full-blooded pirates like Dave Sparrow shouldn't have to be bothered with mundanities like doors.

"Yohoho and a bottle of rum," I hummed to myself while strolling along the well-manicured lawn, doing my best to avoid stepping in the flowerbeds.

Just as I turned the corner at the far side of the house I spotted them – two fellow pirates clearly having a good time in the biblical sense of the word. Immediately instincts took over and I swiftly ducked for cover behind the low hedge next to the wall.

Crud!

I would feel kinda bad intruding on their fun, but did these two idiots really have to get their rocks off right in the path of my only way to the party area? Yeah, there was still the front door of course, but it had its chance already. Besides, Dave Sparrow NEVER retreats.

Naturally there was the... mmm... third option: I could just wait them out.

Clearly the considerate thing to do.

I mean, nothing is worse than being disturbed in the middle of having sex, right?

Besides with the intensity those two were going at it, they wouldn't be long.

What? Peeping Tom? Who? ME? Not at all! I can assure you that I had the purest of motives. I was simply being polite is all.

Though naturally I might as well keep an eye on the action while waiting. It wasn't like I had much else to do, and it WAS kinda their fault I was stuck here. Only fair that they should repay my fine gesture by providing a bit of entertainment to help pass the time.

I grabbed my one-eye brass telescope and extended it. Oh yes – it wasn't merely a prop, but an actual working telescope. C'mon! Did you honestly believe that Dave Sparrow would be caught dead wearing a cheap piece of plastic?

As fate would have it the telescope certainly came in handy. In fact, it made the difference between watching two non-descript people rubbing together at a distance and actually watching them having sex, almost as if I was standing right next to them.

And they were most definitely having sex. The girl - a slim Hispanic senorita – was sitting on the edge of a wooden table desperately fighting to hold on while her boyfriend was banging away in her like a woodsman cutting down a tree. Not a lot of finesse as far as I could tell, but whatever he might be missing in the skills department he sure made up for in tenacity. I wouldn't have lasted a minute at that speed. Christ! Was he fucking her or trying to set her pussy on fire?

Just then I realized that I had a problem of my own: A huge hard-on!

Oh no. This couldn't be happening again. What the fuck? DOWN BOY! Shit! Shit! Triple-shit! But there was no mistaking it. Little-Dave was totally liking what big-Dave was watching and he wanted to come out and play. Just like Vegas, except this was a helluva lot worse.

Apart from the fact that my telescope and I were crouching behind a hedge in a large public garden in broad daylight – being discovered and outed as a sick perv was a very real risk – I wasn't spying on my wife this time. These were strangers, who would probably scream for the police if they spotted me with cock in hand. Besides, odd as it may sound, masturbating while watching two strangers felt like cheating on Marie.

Nope. Couldn't do it. The cock would have to stay in the pants this time. 

Not that I feared that Marie would divorce me over something like this. Hell no; she would never let me off the hook that easy. People who didn't know my wife saw her as just another attractive redheaded forty-something MILF. But if they ever had the misfortune of pissing her off they would discover that she had a will power of steel, a mind like a razor, a temper like a colony of wasps and definitely didn't believe in turning the other cheek. If you hurt her, she would sucker-punch you rather than break down crying.

If you think Marie sounded like a bitch you're right. She certainly was, but I wouldn't have her any other way. Her feistiness and drive was part of the reason why I fell in love with her in the first place. But all love aside, there was no doubt that she would be royally pissed if she busted me masturbating while peeping at people having sex. It would be like telling her that she wasn't enough for me. A statement both insulting and untrue.

So despite the intense live show in front of me I kept my straining cock inside my pants. I couldn't quite help rubbing a bit along the hotdog-shaped bulge of course, but overall I was fairly proud of my will power. Maybe it was a pirate trait.

"Dave Sparrow and The Curse of The Black Bulge." 

It hadn't been more than five minutes but the Energizer Bunny seemed to have worn down his girlfriend's defenses. She had been showing increasing restlessness for the last minute and suddenly she grabbed hold of her lover's shoulders and threw her head back as her body convulsed.

From my vantage point it looked like a darned strong orgasm and I rubbed my bulge faster. The girl was digging her fingers into the poor guys shoulders like claws while she rode the waves of pleasure, but that merely seemed to give him renewed energy. He did seemed considerably strained though so I guessed that he was getting close to blowing his wad.

"Thanks god for sticky favors," I thought. "I need to get to the fucking party before Marie calls the FBI to look for me."

The girl was shaking in ecstasy desperately clinging the guy who was pounding her pussy as if his life depended on it. She had pretty white and delicate hands for a Latina.

I adjusted the telescope.

And around her wrist was a custom Tiffany gold bracelet; just like the one I bought for...

I jumped up, ripped my half-mask off and roared:

"MARIE? WHAT THE FUCK?"

... and set off in a charging run towards the copulating couple.

The girl shook her head as in confusion at the sound of my voice. Then she ripped off her mask and black wig, causing a mass of curly red hair to drop down and envelope my wife's face.

She looked at the guy fucking her: "Dave?"

Then she turned her head and saw me approaching: "DAVE?"

I saw a mix of shock and fury in her expression as she turned to face her lover.

"Who THE HELL are you?"

"I'm... I'm... I'M CUMMING!" the guy yelled and slammed his cock all the way inside her.

"Get the fuck off me bastard!" Marie screamed, and in a very un-ladylike fashion slammed her forehead into his nose with bone-breaking force and followed with an uppercut to the tip of his jaw. She was a small woman, but she packed one hell of a punch for sure. He grabbed his face in pain and staggered back, blood seeping out between his hands.

Then I arrived and planted my fist in the guys solar plexus using the momentum of my run. He went down like a sack of shit with a sick wheeze.

I turned to Marie, who looked like she was close to hysteria.

"Dave! Dave! Oh my fucking god! No no no no... "

She rolled off the table, pulled up her pants and ran to the nearest flowerbed where she proceeded to let go of everything she had eaten for the last few hours in large splashes.

While Marie was having fun fertilizing the flowers I bent over the bleeding and moaning pirate on the ground and removed the cracked half-mask from his face. I really wanted to find out who this guy was.

"Jarrod?" I exclaimed. "You fucking asshole! My Wife? I'm SO gonna..."

"No! Let me, "I heard Marie say with a voice that could have frozen a penguin.

She walked past me and kicked Jarrod squarely in the balls with the brass tip of her pointy she-pirate boot.

I winched. Not because I felt sorry for the asshole, but because all guys get the shivers when watching a set of balls getting mauled. It's like a big global brotherhood. A secret lodge for guys only. The Knights of The Nutsack.

It didn't have the intended effect though. Instead of passing out in a sea of pain, Jarrod rolled onto his back and started moaning while spurts of white cum shot out of his still hard cock. I stared in total bewilderment.

"Christ! There's just no way of winning with that idiot," Marie sighed. "He would probably consider it sex if you beat him up. Please let's go home Dave. I feel sick."

We left Jarrod to bask in the afterglow and soon we were heading for home. I pushed the Dodge a good deal over the speed limit and enjoyed the way a powerful V8 can help heal a wounded manhood.

"Dave? Honey? Say something," Marie said in a quiet voice.

I figured that Dave Sparrow could do better than that, and broke out in song:

" Sixty men all lost at sea; all of them drunk except for me. 

Twas I who had to brave the storm;

with nothing inside to keep me warm.

Yo ho ho ho, over the raging sea we go!

Yo ho ho ho, wherever the four winds blow!" 

Marie stared at me with an expression of complete bewilderment for the second time in less than an hour.

"I can't fucking believe this! We're in the middle of a major marriage crisis and you're quoting Garfield?"

She leaned back and stared into the ceiling with an exasperated look.

"What major crisis?" I responded. "I see no big mystery here. You just fucked Jarrod Thorkelson from accounting and looked like you enjoyed the hell out of it."




Soap On A Rope - The Aftermath



I smiled at her and continued.

"So are you and the Thorkster planning on turning me into a cuckold wimp? It's gonna be hard to show proper respect to a guy I could beat up with one hand tied behind my back, but for you I'll try my best."

That earned me a hard punch to the ribs.

"Quit the bullshitting! I'm REALLY not in the mood right now. And stop at the pharmacy when we pass the mall."

I got worried for real.

"You still feel sick honey?"

Marie inhaled deeply.

"The idiot came inside me Dave. He fucking came inside me! Not the complete load, but I could feel his cock spasming a few times before I got him off me. I need one of those 'regret pills' a.s.a.p."

I couldn't agree more. The Thorkster was a creature that should have been culled from the gene pool long ago, and any woman helping him procreate ought to be tried for crimes against humanity. 

****

When we finally arrived home Marie immediately headed for the bathroom. Before I caught up to her she was already naked and had just started running a bath.

"That can wait honey. I need to see you in the living room."

She put her shampoo, a washcloth and Soap on a Rope on the table next to the tub.

"I need a bath Dave. Lets talk later, ok?"

I leaned over her and turned off the water. Then I looked her in the eyes with a serious expression.

"Living room! Now!"

I was ready to grab her and carry her if I had to, but she complied without further protests and followed me with a worried expression on her face. I sat down in the couch and moved her in front of me. 

"Stand right there," I commanded.

I did a quick visual inspection of her pussy, but from a standing position I saw nothing out of the ordinary. Her bright orange bush looked perfectly normal. Then I ran a finger along her slit and let it sink inside. Ok, now there was no doubt. This pussy had definitely been fucked recently. I drove my finger all the way inside her warm wetness and massaged the front wall of her vagina while keeping my thumb on her clitoris.

Marie started breathing heavy and closed her eyes.

"You're one sick bastard Dave, but please don't stop."

I smiled and used my other hand to open my pants and let out my steel-hard cock. Marie was now gyrating on my finger, totally absorbed in the act of getting ready for a massive g-spot orgasm. I could feel the sleeve of my pirate shirt becoming soaked with her juices as they seeped out of her and ran down my arm.

"Oh yes... oh yes... oh yes..." she moaned as I felt her squeeze my finger with her pussy muscles. That was the signal telling me that she was less than a few seconds away from climaxing. The signal I had been waiting for.

With a swift move I jerked my finger out of her pussy and pulled her down on my cock. Her own weight pushed me all the way inside almost touching her cervix and I proceeded to grab a nipple with each hand and rolled them between two fingers. My action obviously took her completely by surprise. She had worked herself up to orgasming on a finger but suddenly found herself penetrated by a thick hard cock. 

That sent her over the edge like Evel Knievel at Grand Canyon and made her give me the lap dance of the century. She screamed and gyrated so violently I had to grab her waist in order to keep her in place on my cock. It took her almost a minute to come back down from her rocket ride of pleasure.

"Wow Dave, still shaking here. I can't believe you just did that."

I felt a familiar warm throbbing in my abdomen.

"Well honey," I rasped. "Better get ready cause I'm about to do some more right now." 

And with those words I let it go.

All my pent-up sexual energy accumulated from watching the Thorkster bang my wife was unleashed through my cock and I roared out my pleasure while my entire stomach started pumping.

I heard Marie yelling in the background.

"Dave! I can feel it! I can fucking feel it! OH SHIT!"

... and then she came again like a waterfall all over my cock. It was effing spectacular I tell you. Almost better than Vegas. Maybe it was the pirate outfit that did it. Dave Sparrow was obviously a skilled lover as well as a fierce fighter. YARR!

Afterwards I just sat there for a while, enjoying having my naked and sweaty wife close. But when my cock finally fell out of her pussy it was like draining a sink so I figured I'd better save our couch from embarrassing stains. I carried Marie to the bathroom and ran her a bubble bath. She leaned back in the hot water and sighed from delight.

"Dave. I love you so fucking much, you know."

"Hah! I bet you say the same thing to the Thorkster."

Knowing Marie I immediately dived for the door and the Soap-on-a-Rope that came flying like a missile missed me by several inches. She continued to yell at me as I walked away.

"You mention that asshole again and I'll fucking castrate you in your sleep with a dull knife. I'll rip your kidneys out through your ass and make you wear them as earmuffs. I'll kick your stinking worthless balls so hard they can taste your sperm on the International Space Station. I'll... I'll..."

My bitch-wife was back. Goody. I'd had enough mushy stuff for one day. 

****

I was still curious though. I know things were unusual at that party because we all wore pirate costumes and half-masks, but how the hell could Marie mistake the Thorkster for me? We weren't even of the same build, I bet he didn't smell like me or kiss like me and he most definitely didn't fuck like me. I mean seriously; Marie and I had been together for sixteen friggin years! I pretty much knew every single freckle on her body and she had a shitload of them.

I HAD to know, and there was only one way of finding out. So the next day at breakfast I asked the only person who might be able to provide the answer; Marie.

"I know you don't like to discuss this honey, but I've gotta know: How the hell could you confuse the Thorkster with me?"

"I'm really sorry hon," she replied. "Thinking back I can hardly believe it myself, but I had no reason to assume it wasn't you. He was wearing the same costume, was about the same height and when he grabbed me and pulled my pants down I said 'Dave' and he nodded..."

"Everybody was dressed as a pirate. That was the friggin theme." I countered.

"Most were generic pirates Dave, but Jarrod was in a complete Jack Sparrow outfit, just like yours. In fact, I think you guys were the only ones who put that much effort into your costumes."

"Ok, I kinda see your point," I admitted. "But what about when he fucked you?"

Marie's face reddened a little.

"Listen Dave. All you men are so hung up on how very special your cocks are, but the sad truth is that unless there is a significant size difference they all feel pretty much the same when they're inside you. And of course it didn't help my perception skills that I had a few drinks earlier. It's the man that makes the cock; not the other way around." 

"So it wasn't the Thorkster's cock, but his great qualities as a man that made you enjoy fucking him? Is that what you're saying?"

"Come on Dave! Of course not! The guy has the personality of a bedbug."

"Ok, whatever you say love." I said with a sad and thoughtful expression like a little freezing puppy in th rain. 

We sat in silence for a while; I maintained the lost puppy look. Marie frowned at me.

"You are planning on milking this for every drop, aren't you Dave?"

"Yes honey," I smirked.

"Are you ever going to let me live it down?"

"Probably not," I said smiling and kissed her tenderly on the nose.

"I'll be off for work honey. You behave yourself, ok? No more secret lovers. Be warned that I reserve the right to search the closets when I come home. I'll probably look under the bed as well."

Marie glared at me with a look that could make plants wither while I walked out the door humming:

"Marie and the Thorkster sitting in a tree

K – I – S – S – I – N - G

First comes love

Then comes marriage

Then comes the Thorkster with the baby carriage"

As I reached my car I heard a loud crashing noise from inside the house.

"Was it the mug or the plate?" I wondered. 

I was betting on the mug.

****

My workday started out pretty mellow. Sandra, my ever efficient secretary, and I went over the latest projects and at lunchtime we were satisfied that everything was on track. So it was in high spirits we entered the cafeteria where I almost bumped into Jarrod Thorkelson on his way out.

The Thorkster must have had a good day, because he seemed positively giddy.

"Hi Sandra; wassup Dave..." he greeted.

Then he added with a badly camouflaged smirk, "Please say hi to our little ginger vixen from me."

I turned to Sandra.

"Go get us a table Sandy; I'll be right there."

I put a hand on the Thorksters shoulder and walked him firmly back outside, out of earshot of anybody else. I kept a smile on my face so any on-lookers would assume that we were simply two colleagues talking shop.

"Listen carefully Jarrod cause I'm not gonna say it again. Your ability to have sex in the future could depend on you understanding what I'm saying to you. Are you listening?"

He nodded, looking more surprised than scared.

"You seem to labor under the impression that you conquered my wife or some shit like that. But I know you're lying. I know for a fact that you tricked your way into her pants, getting as close as possible to raping her without actually doing it."

"Oh yeah? Well she was wet and willing and she gave it up voluntarily Dave. She couldn't wait for me to fuck her. I've never raped a bitch in my life."

"I know it wasn't real rape and that's why you're still breathing. However I also know for certain that you tricked her. I'm no fool Jarrod; I'm aware of the possibility that Marie could decide to leave me some day if she fall in love with another man. Hopefully she won't but there are no guarantees in life. If you want a guarantee, buy a fucking toaster. But I can guarantee one thing: She would NEVER choose a pathetic looser like you over me."

"Hey! Who the hell do you think you are?" Jerrod snapped.

"I'm Dave, and I'm giving you your one and only warning. You took a chance and got away with it, good for you, but don't push your luck asshole. If I hear ANY gossip or see ANY people looking at Marie or me in a weird way, I'll know whom to blame. And I can be one vengeful son of a bitch Jarrod."

Still smiling I loosened my grip and he backed away a few steps. The distance fueled his bravado.

"You try anything and I'll have the cops on your ass right away. But don't worry; my cock will be ready to entertain your redheaded slut while you're in prison." 

I couldn't help laughing.

"If I'm in prison and Marie finds out that you helped put me there you'd better run Jarrod. Run like your ass is on fire. Oh, she'll entertain herself with your cock alright, but she'll cut it off first."

The Thorkster glared at me defiantly for a few seconds before walking off with angry steps. I had hoped a threat would suffice, but unfortunately the guy was even more stupid than I had suspected. I guess I would have to make him suffer. The only sin worse than fucking my wife is fucking my wife AND giving me attitude afterwards.

****

The workload picked up after lunch and dark had fallen before I made it home after a long day. On the way I started sensing a creeping uneasiness and as I turned down my street the eerie feeling was almost palpable. Marie never replied to my text about being late, and that wasn't like her. Not like her at all. Something wasn't quite right. I was sure of it.

That's when I spotted the strange car in our driveway.

Some European tin can, a BMW by the looks of it, and it was parked in my spot! What the fuck? Unless the driver of the Beemer was a representative from the State Lottery coming to inform us that we had won the main price, somebody's ass was going to be in the ringer very shortly.

I parked at the curb, apologized profusely to my poor car for the indignity and walked slowly up to the house. The door opened on silent hinges, thanks to my OCD when it comes to squeaky noises around the house, and I tiptoed to the living room. Through the door I heard voices; one was Marie and the other was male. They were clearly engaged in some sort of activity, the nature of which I couldn't identify by hearing alone.

The male voice didn't sound familiar, but then again I don't socialize with Beamer owners. What can I say? I'm a classy guy.

Well, time for action.

I yanked the door open and was going to say with a loud voice, "Who the hell put that piece of Euro-junk in my spot?"

But when I saw Marie sitting in one of the easy chairs hooked up to a lot of wires and hoses, I momentarily lost my ability for coherent speech. What the fuck was going on here?

"Oh hi honey," she smiled. "You're just in time. Allow me to introduce you to doctor Benton Burke; member of the American Polygraph Union and one of the states leading experts in his field."

A man who had been sitting in the other easy chair got up and shook my hand.

The guy looked like a TV doctor or the hero in a courtroom drama and practically oozed credibility. I had no problem at all believing that he was the expert he claimed to be. But I did have a problem with him hooking my wife up to his weird Electro Stim contraption, and I told him so much.

He looked questioning at Marie who smiled reassuringly at me.

"Please don't be angry with doctor Burke honey. He is here at my request. I hired him to verify my truthfulness, and coincidentally we just finished calibrating the equipment. Ask me something easily verifiable."



"Do we have three kids?" I complied.

"Yes."

"The probability of the subject being truthful is better than ninety-one percent within an error margin of..." Burke began.

"Doctor?" I interrupted. "A simple true or false will suffice, please. I will accept your personal assessment of the accuracy based on your qualifications, so there is no need to record them every time."

"Ok, it's true then," Burke said stiffly.



I turned back to Marie.

"Are their names Huey, Louie and Dewey?"

"Yes," Marie said.

"False," Burke countered.



Marie smiled again and handed me a piece of paper.

"Please check this, and if you're satisfied with the wording of the questions hand the paper to doctor Burke."

I glanced through the text and raised my eyebrows.

"Fuck Marie. I can't believe you're doing this. It's not necessary; honestly. I've never doubted you and I'm not angry. Not at you anyway. I was just bullshitting."

"With the intention of rubbing the Thorkster in my face for the next two years whenever you don't get your way, right?"

"Well, kinda... yeah... that too," I smiled sheepishly. "Can't blame a guy for seizing an opportunity, right?"

"Not gonna fly any longer Dave. Get ready for the complete and undiluted truth about the incident. And after this, I don't want to hear a word about the Thorkster ever again."

"Come on honey; allow a man to gloat a little. Think about the trauma I suffered watching my unfaithful wife having hot and dirty sex with another guy right in front of me. I might never fully recover."

"Oh I know all about your 'trauma' Dave. I rode it to orgasm after we returned home, remember?"

Uh oh, busted! I wisely remained quiet while Marie made the last preparations.

"Shall we begin gentlemen? Please read the questions doctor."



"Did you intend to be unfaithful to Dave?" he began.

"No."

"The answer is true," said doctor Burke.



"Do you love Dave completely and exclusively?"

"Yes."

"The answer is true," said doctor Burke.



Then we got to the more spicy questions. I watched Marie carefully, but she appeared completely relaxed.



"Were you aware at the time that the person you had sexual intercourse with wasn't Dave?"

"No."

"The answer is true," said doctor Burke.



"Would you ever have wanted to have sexual intercourse with Jarrod Thorkelson?"

"No."

"The answer is true," said doctor Burke.



"Will you ever have sexual intercourse with Jarrod Thorkelson again?"

"No."

"The answer is true," said doctor Burke.



"Do you have any feelings for Jarrod Thorkelson apart from loathing and disgust?"

"No."

"The answer is true," said doctor Burke.



"Will you ever have sexual intercourse with any man other than Dave?"

"No."

"The answer is true," said doctor Burke.



"Have you ever considered leaving Dave?"

"No."

"The answer is true," said doctor Burke.



"Do you plan on staying married to Dave for the rest of your life?"

"Yes."

"The answer is true," said doctor Burke.



"Does Dave satisfy you in bed?"

"Yes."

"The answer is true," said doctor Burke.



Marie looked at me triumphantly. 

"Are you satisfied Dave?"

"I can't believe you did this," I mumbled, still baffled. "A friggin home polygraph test! I didn't even know that shit existed."

"Well, I assume this took care of all your little manly insecurities," she said, and started disconnecting the wires.

"Stop!" I barked.

Marie sat back down and gave me a puzzled look.

"We're not quite done yet honey," I informed her. "That was YOUR ten questions. But now I would like to ask an equal number of my own, if you don't mind."

I could tell she was getting ready to put up a fight, so I quickly added:

"... unless of course you're too chicken to deal with questions that you haven't pre-cooked in advance."

She was positively glaring at me now. I decided to push a little harder and gave her a dose of my best chicken imitation.

"Cluck... cluck... cluck... "

"All right. ALL RIGHT! Gimme your goddamned questions!" she sneered.

"Excellent honey. Ready for round two doctor Burke?"

"You may proceed at will Mr. Connor."

I cleared my throat and began the interrogation.



"Honey, did you borrow a screwdriver from my toolbox two weeks ago and left it outside to be run over by the lawnmower?"

"Huh? What? I'm not responsible for your goddamned tools."

"The answer is false," said doctor Burke.

"Well?" I looked at her questioning.

"Ok, it was me. I forgot it," she admitted. "Sorry. I'll buy you a new one."

"No problem honey. Nothing a good blowjob won't fix," I smiled.



"Do you like riding in my car?"

"No! I wish you'd sell that rolling midlife crisis."

"The answer is false," said doctor Burke.



"Interesting indeed. So would you like to have sex in the car sometime?"

"NO!"

"The answer is false," said doctor Burke.

"Well well my beloved wife. I think we need to go cruising the neighborhood in the very near future," I said with a cheesy smile. "Panties optional of course."

"That's IT!" Marie snapped. "I'm NOT answering any more stupid questions about your goddanmed gas-guzzling planet-killing waste-of-money shit car! Get to the point or we end this now! Capiche?"



"As you wish; new subject. Did you enjoy fucking the Thorkster?"

"No, of course not!"

"The answer is false," said doctor Burke.

"That's an unfair question! I thought he was you Dave. It was like fucking you by proxy. He would never have gotten within six feed of me without mask and costume."



"Did you orgasm more than once while fucking the Thorkster.

"No!"

"The answer is false," said doctor Burke.

"COME ON! It's a goddamned mechanical process.," she pleaded. "If somebody keeps pounding you long enough, you're gonna orgasm whether you like it or not. That's not something you can control. I couldn't help it. It doesn't mean it felt good or anything." 



"If you say so honey," I smiled and asked:"

"Did orgasming with the Thorkster feel good?"

"No."

"The answer is false," said doctor Burke.

I could tell that Marie was getting desperate.




Soap On A Rope - The Aftermath



"Orgasming always feels good goddammit! It's like pizza; even bad ones are fairly ok. But they're still bad. Can we put the Thorkster to rest now please? I don't wanna answer any more questions about that asshole. He's done. Finito. Over!"



"Sure honey; fine with me. Have you ever had sex with a girl?"

"WHAT? What kind of fucked-up question is that?"

"Cluck... cluck... cluck..." I replied.

"Of course I haven't!" 

"The answer is false," said doctor Burke.

Marie's face was now almost as red as her hair and she looked like she was an inch away from having a stroke.

"Mumble, mumble, mumble, high school," she stammered illegibly.



"Say, did you ever have a threesome with two guys?"

"N... oh crud. Yes. Way before we got married!"

"The answer is true," said doctor Burke.



"Do you love it when I'm rimming your ass?"

"No, gross!"

"The answer is false," said doctor Burke.

Marie stuck her tongue out and blew a raspberry. I just smiled making a mental note of all the cool new stuff I was learning.



"Do you masturbate more than three times a week?"

"Fuck you Dave! Yes!"

"The answer is true," said doctor Burke.



"Have you ever masturbated to internet porn?"

"I... I... crap... yes!"

"The answer is true," said doctor Burke.



"Did you get horny watching Twilight when the werewolf-dude lost his shirt?"

"Yes you idiot! Like every other female in the theater under eighty."

"The answer is true," said doctor Burke.



"Have you ever imagined getting ravished by dozens of hairy men in a Turkish bath?"

"What the hell kind of oddball question is that? No fucking way!"

"The... answer... is... in... conclusive," said doctor Burke between snorts.





"Did you ever insert a vegetable in your pussy and later used it for cooking?"

"DAVE! "

Doctor Burke said nothing. He was busy roaring with laughter.

****

After helping Burke pack up and get his German tin box out of my spot, we sat down in the kitchen and shared a lager. Marie was still blushing from my poignant questioning.

"Oh my god Dave, I can't believe you asked me all that shit in front of doctor Burke," she sighed. "I'm never gonna be able show my face in public again!"

"I wasn't the stupid one here Marie. YOU were. A friggin polygraph? Seriously? Have you looked up the word 'overkill' lately?"

She gave me a tired look.

"I needed you to believe me Dave, REALLY believe me. I would never fuck around on you; not in a million years. I had to make you trust me again. This was the only way I could prove myself without a shadow of a doubt."

I took her hands.

"You're a bitch Marie. That's one of your many endearing qualities and also the reason why I never doubted you for a second. Do you know why?"

She shook her head.

"Because if you ever got mad enough to fuck somebody else, you would tell me straight to my face. You don't sneak around on people. You're a bulldozer honey, not a ninja."

That got a giggle out of her, and she smiled.

"But now it's time for me to take you to bed and rim that cute little ass of yours," I declared. "And don't even try denying that you love it after the polygraph session."

Marie yelped and tried to get away, but I threw her over my shoulders and carried her to bed in a fireman's grip. The polygraph was correct. I had to hold her down and she was screaming loudly enough to wake up half the neighborhood, but she really did love getting her ass rimmed. In fact, I discovered it to be a new way for me to bring her to orgasm.

As I felt her sphincter pumping in orgasmic rhythm around my tongue I decided to mail doctor Burke a fat bonus.

****

A few months of our lives had gone by when I was greeted by a flustered Sandra in the hallway.

"Jarrod Thorkelson is waiting for you boss, and he is mad as hell."

"Thanks for the heads-up Sandy. Lets go see what ails the poor fellow, shall we?" 

As soon as I stepped out of the elevator the Thorkster came rushing at me like a wraith in a seventies Roger Corman movie.

"Dave fucking Connor, you goddanmed asshole! You are going to pay for this, I swear. Big time!"

I stared at him, nonplused.

"Why don't you take a chill pill and tell me what the hell this is about Jarrod? Because as of right now I have no fucking idea what I'm supposed to have done to you."

"Aston..." he sputtered.

"Who the hell is Aston? "

"My fucking car, you moron! My Aston Martin DB9!"

"You have a have a two hundred-thousand dollar car?" I exclaimed. "Holy crap Jarrod! How much do they pay you guys down in accounting?"

"SHUT UP! You fucking ruined it!" he yelled.

"Listen Thorks... Jarrod. I didn't even know you HAD the damned thing, let alone where you keep it. Whatever happened to it, it wasn't me who did it. By the way, what DID happen to it?"

The Thorkster sat down in my client chair and Sandra brought him a cup of coffee. The fight seeped out of him like stale air from a punctured tire.

"I'm so fucked Dave. You probably know that my group just returned from two months external training in the new CRM system, right?"

"No I didn't. But go ahead."

"When I got home last night I went to the garage to check the battery, and... and... "

The Thorkster took a large sip of his mug. Then he continued.

"There was a horrible smell and the garage was full of flies. And my Aston... the cabin was filled with liquefied rotten meat. The interior was halfway dissolved and crawling with maggots, everything inside is basically ruined. My mechanic says that the entire car must be stripped down and all non-metal parts replaced. You can't even enter the fucking garage without a breathing apparatus. The police claims that somebody put four dead pigs in it and left them in the heat to rot for over a month."

He hid his head in his hands, "Who would do such a horrible thing?"

"Mythbusters season 2003 episode seven," I said helpfully.

"What?" he looked at me as if I had sprouted an extra head.

"They did something like that on the show. To a Corvette I believe. Anyway, I see why you're upset, but clearly this is a matter for your insurance. They'll probably give you a new car. Sounds like this one is totaled."

"They won't pay," he said almost crying. "They claim that I called and cancelled my insurance two months ago and subsequently confirmed it through my e-mail. The same guy who took my license plates and returned them to the DMV probably did it. I can sue the insurance company of course, but my lawyer says I'll lose."

"And your home owners insurance?"

"Won't pay either. There is no sign of forced entry and besides they claim that an Aston is a special item and thus not covered by a standard policy. I checked the small print; they're right."

The Thorkster got up.

"Anyway, I'm sorry that I came at you like that Dave. I've had a really bad day. You don't like me for obvious reasons, but this goes way beyond normal male-rivalry. I was outta line."

"No problem Jarrod. I know we've had our differences, but if there's anything I can do, please do not hesitate to let me know."

We shook hands and he left. Sandra dropped in with a fresh mug of mocha for me.

"By the way Boss," she said. "My uncle called yesterday and asked if we need more dead pigs soon. He is culling the flock next week."

We looked at each other for a moment; then broke down laughing.

"Remind me never to attempt seducing Marie no matter how hot she is," Sandra giggled.

"You know Sandy, I learned something very interesting about my loving wife's past when she happened to be hooked up to a polygraph a few months ago..."



Soap on a Rope



"Yeah 'Woh' you too and the horse you rode in on Shithead...", I mumbled as I casually threw the pants out the window and watched them sail down into the Las Vegas night. 

Hey, what did you expect? The dude fucked my wife! Sure I enjoyed myself a lot but there MUST be consequences for doing shit like that. A mans' got his pride.

****

Talking about my wife, she was a ripe mess indeed, and the bed was just as bad. The sheets were drenched with various bodily fluids to such an extent that I was forced to assume that Marie had either squirted or peed during her sexual encounter with Mr. Pantless. No way was I gonna sleep in that shit, but luckily the maid had a linen cache in the bathroom. By rolling my comatose wife from side to side I eventually managed to change the sheet and make the bed somewhat presentable.

I was barely done when there was a loud knocking on the door. I threw a blanket over Marie and went to answer it. Outside stood two men dressed in hotel jackets and Mr. Barebutts. The latter now wearing a robe looking three sizes too small.

"Excuse me sir but we have a gentleman here claiming that you are in his room", the one wearing the nicest jacket started.

"Hold on a minute," I exclaimed and let my annoyance show. "This is ridiculous. I don't know this person, but if you have the name of the reservation I can easily prove my identity. David Connor at your service -- nice to meet you. I fetched my passport and of course it matched the registration. The picture even looked like me.

Mr. Fuckmachine now became visibly agitated and launched a tirade in a language I didn't understand, ending with "Hose."

"Listen guys. I know neither this gentleman nor that Jose-fellow he keeps mumbling about. As you can tell from the registration my name is David and I have a sleeping wife in here that I would really like to join as soon as possible. So if there was nothing else?" 

"Yes of course Sir. Please excuse the disturbance and a good night to you and Mrs. Connor."

They almost bowed as I closed the door. I could hear Mr. Fucktoy shouting angrily outside in the hallway. Hopefully the asshole's wallet had been in his pants.

"Yippiee ki-yay motherfucker."

****

I pulled the blanket aside and feasted my eyes on Marie's sleeping form. She hadn't moved a muscle and appeared to be completely lost to the world. The combination of alcohol, sleeping pills and a couple of nuclear orgasms will do that to a girl, I guess. 

As a result of me fixing the bed she was on her back so I had an excellent view of her goodies. Naturally I felt duty bound, as a responsible and loving husband, to inspect her pussy meticulously and ensure that it had survived the invasion of the mushroom cock. 

It was a well-fucked pussy if ever I saw one. The normally light orange pubes were now a greasy red mess as if somebody had shampooed her groin and forgotten to rinse. Her pussy-lips were red and swollen to twice their usual size. They were still parted and I could actually look inside her vagina from where a stream of white fluid ran down between her ass-cheeks forming a small pool on the sheets.

Crap! Another mans cum leaking from my sleeping wife.

Yep, you guessed it: I had a goddamn erection again!

Man, was I a sicko! 

A horny sicko.

I stroked my rapidly inflating cock while studying the rest of her body. Marie had always looked great, and good genes combined with a keen interest in fitness, had enabled her to maintain her figure through the years. But to me she had never looked hotter than she did right there in that very moment. It wasn't her flat stomach, her toned legs or her youthful pale freckled skin. It wasn't even her small firm breasts with permanently perky nipples.

It was "everything" -- body, mind, and personality. Marie was the whole package.

This perfect creature was MY woman and my lizard-brain told me I had to claim her NOW. Some other male had dared attempting to breed her and instincts older than humanity itself compelled me to make her mine again.

And who was I to dispute instincts older than humanity itself?

So without further ado I got on top of her, thrust my iron hard cock into the red furry mess and power-fucked her missionary style.

It was a strange feeling getting sloppy seconds like this. There was very little resistance, almost like fucking a glove full of warm Jell-O, but that didn't matter to me in my current state of mind. My inner caveman was in the drivers seat and I pounded her with the ferocity of a cuckolded wildebeest. I was exited beyond words and devoid of any semblance of control.

"Ugga ugga. Dave fuck. Dave cum. Ugga ugga"

As you might have guessed it didn't take long. After less than a minute I wrapped my arms around the woman I loved and held her tight while shooting whatever cum I had left deep inside her. It was too intense for words -- a feeling so strong it almost hurt. I think I cried out too. I held her in a vice-like grip until my cock was completely deflated and flopped out of the slippery hole.

As I carefully began untangling myself Marie suddenly stirred and mumbled, "Love you so much honey..." and went back to sleep with a happy smile on her face. I followed her example a few minutes later.

****

Somebody woke me by kissing my cheek. I turned and looked straight into Marie's smiling face.

"Morning sleepy head."

"A kiss? Not a bucket of ice water? Not a whack with a newspaper? So I take it you're no longer mad at me?" I enquired carefully.

"Nah, I think you've been punished enough. But we better get a move on or we'll miss the breakfast buffet. By the way honey; did we make love last night?"

A chill ran down my spine. "Yes we sure did."

"Was it good?"

"Oh yes. And THEN some," I assured her with a lusty grin.

"It must have been one wild romp because I feel like Mike Tyson's sandbag. And my poor love-tunnel hasn't been this tender since I gave birth."

"Sorry hon. I guess I got carried away. But it's your own damn fault for being so irresistibly sexy y'know."

"Flattery will get you everywhere," she giggled. "And I feel great actually. Sore, but great. Like in the fitness center after a major workout. Maybe a good old fashioned fucking was just what the doctor ordered. What would I ever do without my loving husband to anticipate my needs and take so good care of me?"

"Well" I started, "I guess you could always pick up some random drunken foreigner with a hairy ass to have sex with..."

"Huh?" 

I tried my best to look innocent. It worked.

****

Later at the buffet I was just about to sink my teeth into a stack of delicious syrup soaked pancakes when a waiter materialized next to our table. He handed me a card.

"With compliments of the manager and apologies for the regretful disturbance last night Sir."

He nodded courtly to both of us and went on with his business.

Marie sent me a puzzled look, "Disturbance? What was he talking about?"

"Oh it was nothing honey. Some drunk making trouble in the hallway outside our room is all. You were asleep at the time."

"And that?" she reached for the card the waiter had handed me.

"An free night in the most exclusive suite of the hotel." I smiled like the Cheshire cat. "The one usually reserved for celebrities and oil sheiks. Rumor has it, that it comes with a ten person Jacuzzi."

I reached over the table and took her slender hands in mine.

"How about it hon? Will you spend an extra night in Vegas with your devoted husband so he can show you how much he adores you? A night without company or family? A night just for us?"

I wont insult your intelligence by telling what she answered. Sufficient to say that we could brag about having had wild and unbridled sex in a ten person Jacuzzi afterwards. Well -- maybe it was more like 'very careful and tender sex' because one of us had a sore pussy. The true reason for which is still known only to me...and to you of course.

Did I ever tell Marie? Hell to the no! Are you nuts?

If she didn't kill me or divorce me on the spot, the knowledge that I had allowed a strange man to ravish her in her sleep would have cost me my sex life for a month at least -- or probably a year.

But in all seriousness that wasn't the real reason. No, my main concern was that we both seemed to enjoy that night WAY too much, and I wasn't at all sure it would be safe for us and our marriage to travel further down that road. Some doors are meant to stay forever closed and some territories are best left unexplored.



Soap Opera Slave



Dr. Hazelton glowered at Ellen as she slammed the door. "Nurse, you know I can't continue with this any longer! You know about my wife and my wife is well aware of you. I can't risk all I've worked for- my practice, my patients, my yacht, but most especially my three beautiful children. There may still be hope for this marriage and if there is I would cross heaven and earth to find it. Now please, if you'll just-"

His words were cut short as she reached up and kissed him. His arms wrapped around her and he returned the favor. He pulled her closer and, shoving stacks of patient reports and insurance claims to the floor, they moved to his desk. There she raised her ankles around his white examination jacket, a look of triumph spreading across her face.

"AND CUT!" Antonio jumped up. "That was wonderful! A perfect end to the season that will leave everyone eagerly awaiting the next Fall's shows." 

The crew resumed work, taking down boom mikes, and testing the monitors and mikes. Jessica and Darren looked to the director. She spoke first, asking if the take worked.

"Oh yes, my dear. It was perfect! And you; Darren Weathers- Dr. Alex Hazelton- you could put Valentino to shame!"

Jessica was used to Antonio's excessive flattery but was too weary for it this morning. "I've really got to get moving," she told him. "I've got a lunchtime meeting with my agent."

"Of course, or course." He shooed her away, much too engrossed in fawning over her scene partner.

La Novia was a small bistro in the heart of Greenwich Village. Though she loved the restaurant and had gotten to know much of the staff on a first name basis, she rarely had the opportunity to stop by anymore. Each of her visits were interrupted by awestruck autograph hounds and starry eyed fans. She obligated them all, as was her custom, but it rarely left time to relax and enjoy a meal. Today she entered wrapped in a long raincoat, wide brimmed hat and sunglasses. She was sans makeup. 

Stepping inside, she spotted Philip immediately. He took no notice of her and casually sipped a glass of Cabernet while waiting in the corner of the room. He started when she pulled a chair and sat across from him. Only when she removed both her hat and glasses did he realize her disguise. 

They toasted the finish of her first year as a cast member on Hope Springs Eternal, the longest running, most successful serial romance on television today. She found it difficult to believe that two short years ago she was waiting tables at a diner outside of Bismark North Dakota, after dropping out of school to help pay for her sister's rehabilitation after her car accident. Though according to her screen bio she grew up in Ventura California where she went to high school and was noticed by a modeling agent during a homecoming dance. It also said she was twenty seven, when she had in fact passed the age of thirty almost two years ago. Whatever gets their attention, Philip always said. 

"So that's it for the big maternity ward love triangle?" he asked.

"It's at least a polygon by now. Maybe a tetrahedron." They laughed. "In any case we'll find out next fall."

"Right," he added. "I'll review the scripts as soon as they send them and let you know."

The waiter placed a serving of Chicken Tetrazini in front of her and walked away, unaware of her identity. She cut a bite off and forked it into her mouth eagerly.

Philip continued, reading from a stack of press releases, news clipping and studio memos. "Until then you have several modeling dates, including one in Paris and one in Athens."

She looked over her schedule, overjoyed at the prospect of some time in Europe. 

He smiled at her excitement. "Jess, you really should go with someone this time. What about that last one at the awards- what was his name? Brad?"

"Come on now Philip, you know that's just for the papers. I never even met the man before that night."

"Well how about Darren then? You two are close."

"Yes, that would be wonderful. Life follows art. I wonder how his movie star fiancé would feel about that. I'm sure he wouldn't mind losing his Hamptons mansion or the villa in Nice."

He was finishing up his meal. "Really Jessica, it doesn't fit with your image, always alone like this. I'm sure you'd have no problem finding a man. You're a pretty lady," he smiled, stating the obvious. 

Waving off his humor she was almost frustrated. "It's not as easy as it sounds. It's not like I could go into the nearest bar and find a guy. The tabloids would have a field day with that. I sure wish I could though, it would make life so much easier."

"Anyway, could you at least pretend? For me, perhaps? It would make my job so much easier," he begged in an overdone exasperated tone. It's a good thing he ended up an agent, Jessica thought. He'd have starved as an actor. 

She rubbed his hand playfully, "Can do, boss."

Her penthouse apartment was only blocks away and she hustled through the midmorning traffic, the wind whipping at her coat, until she reached her building at Central Park West. She had a catalog shoot later that afternoon and she ran to put her makeup on. 

Though her peers all employed personal assistants and makeup artists, Jessica always found the act to be the most enjoyable part of her day. It gave her time to think and afforded her the opportunity do something she enjoyed since she was a girl, something she had become quite good at. It left her with one less person in her life and, looking about the roomy apartment, she wondered if that was such a good idea. 

A limousine awaited her outside and she got in, not yet comfortable with the idea of being chauffeured around every day to and from work. She reclined on the plush seats and noted the full bar, tv, dvd player and stereo. It's difficult not to enjoy it, but sometimes she wished for the old days of driving to work and getting bored in traffic. 

The shoot was in a large emptied loft in Tribeca. She was familiar with the photographer, as well as the employer and thought of modeling as the best part of her job. It relaxed her, cheered her up and paid much better than it should. She had grown familiar with everyone in the industry that worked on the East coast and always had a good time on a shoot. 

Today Todd Polaski was behind the lens. He was a newcomer, having recently finished photography school in his native Cleveland where the local press was ecstatic about his work there. Having just moved to Manhattan and begun work, he and Jessica knew each other on a casual basis. 

He had a talented eye that got his work noticed immediately. That, and his casual demeanor that got even the most pampered starlet to relax and open up, was what made him stand out from the hundreds of other well known fashion photographers. Her rack was prepared for her, fitted exactly for her body and numbered for the shoot. She found her piece, a thin silk camisole and panty set and lay it down before her while she undressed. 

Just before she was about to strip off her tiny thong undetectable under the clothes she wore, Roger walked in. Ever since she had left him to work with Philip he had followed her and made her life miserable whenever he could. They had dated years ago, when she was his only client and she learned a lot from him. When they met she was a naïve girl from the Midwest with only local beauty pageants to her credit. Under him she learned not only how to become big in the industry, but how to be a capable lover as well. He wasn't her first but he was her first of note. She learned the finer points of sex from him, how to relax being the part she had the most trouble with. He got her to open up and learn to enjoy herself. When she did their time together was spent greedily taking advantage of each other. She enjoyed it then but now, after badmouthing her in the hopes that no other agents would want her and almost ruining her career before it began, she wonders how she could have gotten involved with him in the first place.

Seeing it was him, she quickly grabbed a robe and threw it on, cursing him up and down. 

"I cam to congratulate you on your career, honey," he said, as if nothing was out of the ordinary. "You're doing so well. I'm happy for you. We've accomplished a lot."

"Roger I told you to stop doing this. We don't work together anymore."

"I got you that job on the soap," he beamed.

"No you didn't," she yelled. "Philip got me that spot. You know him? The man who doesn't lie about me and fuck me while stealing my money the whole time? He looked stunned, as if he'd never heard the accusations before. "The man I work with- my agent. Not you. We don't work together, I'm not your client, not your friend, not your coworker and I'm not yours anymore."

She was softer now, almost pleading, "Please Roger, understand me and go on with your life." 

He looked at her sadly, unspeaking and she turned away from him. As she clenched her teeth she heard him walk away. 

She was soon dressed, at least as much as possible in a pair of silk high cut French bikini panties and matching camisole. Her nipples, chilled from the air of the room poked through the material and her breasts swelled with each breath. Slipping easily into her "model" role, she swaggered out of the dressing room and into the large loft. A technician was busy setting up the screen while Todd rested on a small platform covered in whisper thin shrouds of light pastel colors. Behind him was a backdrop of painted clouds made with practiced brushstrokes. 

His assistant perked up when she entered the room and didn't try to hide his interest in her. His eyes roamed her body from her bare ankles to her barely hidden breasts while Todd gave her merely a warm smile and directed her to the platform.

"We're just doing some test shots today," he instructed. "It's very open so just relax and be comfortable." He began checking views as she reclined on the small love seat placed among the artfully thrown cloths. 

She lay across the seat, one bare foot on the floor, the other crossing her knee. She rested her chin on her shoulder as her arm lay across the arm of the love seat. The camera flashed, catching the perfect view of her jade green eyes. 

It was times like this that she enjoyed her profession. Getting paid to do nothing but look beautiful was a good way to earn a living and Todd always made the shoots pleasant. She'd worked with more photographers than she could count. She knew some were impatient and some were antagonistic. Working with Todd was a delight. He looked like a younger brother and always treated her professionally and with the respect she deserved. Too many others thought of her as nothing more than something to hang clothes on (or take them off, depending on who was doing the paying).

It was a very laid back atmosphere, best for getting some good shoots and he encouraged her rather than directed her. She always understood what he wanted and most of what came out of his mouth was complimentary, rather than suggestive.

"Perfect, perfect, just like that," he said when she fluffed her hair and squinted playfully at the lens. Kicking her legs toward him, he responded by giving an appreciative grunt. She was sitting facing him now and turned while placing one hand on her thigh, exposing the pristine bare flesh of her opposite thigh. Looking towards him, she gave a surprised innocent look, playing the coquette. 

He awkwardly rearranged himself, doing his best not to let her notice his arousal. Between poses she caught it but gave no sign of it. The thought of Todd, someone she always felt comfortable with but only thought of in a friendly, professional way getting turned on, especially when he worked with dozens of beautiful women, excited her. 

She stood and perched one leg on the back of the loveseat, stretching her thigh muscles in a pantomime of stretching while awakening. This spread her ass and caused the thin material of her panties to stretch taut across her skin. She could feel the lips of her pussy moisten from the action and the exposure she felt. 

With an exaggerated pout, she collapsed upon the cushions and raised one leg to block her face from the camera. As Todd snapped away, she placed her hand at the very top of her sex, stroking the hairs on the pad of flesh above her hips. A warm tingling began just beneath her fingers and she followed it, her hand traveling slowly downwards. 

Todd breathed heavily, impressed with the poses she gave him and the great shots he was getting. As he watched, she slid slowly off the cushion until she came to rest on her knees. The camisole had bunched and collected so it rested just below one hardened nipple. She tugged the material across her chest, offering a view of the fleshy bottomswell of her breast as he continued snapping away. 

Her knees were spread and she flexed the muscles of her lower abdomen. One hand placed against her crotch drove her farther and, before the enrapt eyes of Todd and his assistant, she felt the onrush of her approaching orgasm. She made no noise, the only sign of her condition was evidenced as she threw her head back, her mane of blonde shaking subtly. 

It was not her most powerful climax, nor her longest but it was the first one she'd ever experienced during a shoot. The thought surprised her, considering how many she'd done and how much she commonplace most of them were. She knew it was inevitable though, considering how her personal life had stagnated lately. 

As the feeling passed and her breath slowed, she climbed onto the cushions of the love seat, reeling in the peaceful aftereffects of a much needed release. Both men had turned their attention back to their equipment, ending the session, and she suddenly felt alone and discarded. She stood and walked to her dressing room, well aware of the silence of the men as they lasciviously watched the rise and fall of her asscheeks as she passed. 

She stripped off the set she was modeling and jumped into the shower before anyone mentioned the fevered moments that had taken place. She was sure she looked a wreck and was afraid to be seen in such a state, her skin flushed and face reddened. 

When she returned she was freshly dressed and much of the equipment had disappeared. The technician, whom she'd never met, wouldn't take his eyes off her and Todd was busy in his camera bag when she approached him.

"Hey," she called down to him, her heels towering her over the sitting figure. "Did you get the shots you wanted?"

His eyes roamed up her legs beneath the short skirt she wore, catching a flash of white cotton. "Yeah," he stammered. "More than enough. Thanks again Jess." He stood to face her, lazily winding his 40mm. 

Stepping to him, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and rested her cheek against his after giving it the slightest of kisses. He was stiff against her and gasped in surprise when she came to him. Slowly, he relaxed in her embrace. 

There was a limo waiting for her when she exited the building and a chill in the late Fall air forced her to wrap her coat around her. A pair of tourists; a middle aged mother and young teenage daughter yelped in surprise upon seeing her but hesitated, unsure if she was the woman they'd hoped for. As the car drove by she noticed them bending over and attempting to look in the back window with a squint. The older one shook her head and took her daughter by the hand to pull her away. Disbelieving, she was obviously disappointed she missed her chance at meeting the celebrity they'd hoped. 

The doorman ushered her in with his usual indulgent smile when she returned. The elevator waited at the ground floor and opened immediately when she called for it. She was glad to be alone in the elevator, with its unmarred silver finish that reflected her image endlessly. Today had been one of the busiest days of her career and she was grateful it was over. All she looked forward to now was a leisurely soak in the bath and a much needed sleep alone in her overstuffed king sized bed.

A stack of scripts lay on her desk, potential work if she showed interest. With a fresh cup of espresso, she gathered them under one arm and carried them to the bedroom, where she threw them on the bed. Quickly slipping out of her clothes, they landed on the floor where she kicked them towards her closet, landing her brassiere and blouse in the hamper. The rest lay in a trail by the closet door, as she had always left them since she was a girl. 

The water steamed and she rested on the side of the tub, her bare bottom chilled by the marble. With one knee crossed, she flipped through the scripts, hoping to find a part that would help her "transition phase from television to screen" that Philip always seemed to be rambling on about. She rarely went to the movies and knew little about what drew audiences in, her favorite movies being old black and white romances and mysteries. She thrilled to the western landscapes and vistas she saw in John Huston films and the suspense of Alfred Hitchcock. Though it was a fault in her line of work, she wasn't well acquainted with the cinema of today. What she'd seen of it had left her unsatisfied. 

The bathtub filled and the bath crystals she added gave the room a light scent of lavender. Candles were lit and with restrained excitement she quickly stepped into the tub. 

The first script she skimmed was a romantic comedy. She was sent such similar offers almost daily and rarely did such a movie interest her. They were too common and she didn't want to get trapped in the romantic comedy genre like so many young actresses were these days. She began reading another, an action movie that had the stereotypical love interest for the brawny man on a mission. This time it was rescuing his kidnapped son from a terrorist mastermind. Tempting, but not what she was looking for in her first movie role. 

She flipped through the stack beside the tub and found none worthwhile. Frustrated, she threw them down, sending scripts scattering across the tiled floor. She dipped under the water to clear her head and enjoyed the sensation of the water dripping through her hair when she came to the surface. Eyes closed, her hand traveled between her legs, seeking the soft mound of her sex. With a hearty sigh of relief her fingers danced along her lips, enjoying what she considered the best time of the day. 

Her nipples hardened into pellets begging for attention and her legs spread open, resting lazily on the rim of the heated bathtub. She was alone and had no reason to be discreet. She knew her body well and under her practiced hand she was soon able to climb to three orgasms. Her moans of lust broke the stillness of the penthouse and her ecstatic movements, brought on by a need to be fulfilled, sent water splashing from the marble tub, leaving puddles on the white surface below. 

Temporarily sated, she reclined onto the custom formed tub and languidly began washing herself with a loofah harvested off the coast of the Philippines and available at only two designer stores in this country. She usually scorned such frivolous spending but the feel of it on her skin and between her legs was nothing less than heaven. 

When she finished she stood and pulled on her silk gown and sat by her makeup mirror, set apart from the rest of the bathroom in a tiny alcove. A foot massager beneath her feet and a radiator warming her damp body, she examined what she saw reflected back on her. She was attractive, she never doubted that. Her eyes were a rare shade of green, almost jade that accentuated the light tone of her hair. Underneath the layer of makeup carefully painted on each day she recognized the tiny girl from the Midwest she once was. There were many days she wondered how she fell into the life she was living now as the highly desired, sex figurehead she portrayed to the public. 




Soap Opera Slave



Many times she had wished for something more compelling, something more fulfilling that didn't base its value on surface beauty. She never considered herself a beautiful woman, and she felt forced into the role. 

Lotion helped remove the makeup now faded from hours spent under the lights and she was left with her most familiar look, that of a woman uncertain and afraid of the future. Discarding the robe, she climbed into the fresh sheets of her bed and hugged the pillow to her chest. She had an appointment with her personal training in the mid morning but until then she had no other plans but to sleep. She fell asleep easily, wrapped in silk sheets, her naked body safely covered. 

Night turned to morning and the darkness of the room turned a dim yellow exposing the naked body on the bed, now freed from the wrap of silk, which lay in a pile by her feet. She was deep in a warm dream after exhaustion caused her to sleep through the alarm, missing her appointment with Guillermo, her personal trainer. When the door of her bedroom opened she was unaware and did not notice the man standing by her nightstand observing her naked form until she felt his hand on her shoulder, shaking her not so gently. 

It took some time for her to awaken. First her eyes opened slightly and she was unaware both of what was happening and if it was real or a dream. Her body was comfortable on the overstuffed mattress and she felt as if she was floating aimlessly. Rolling on her back, she was surprised to see the strange man, dressed in black jeans and a tight black tank top. She had to shield her eyes to get a better look at him and quickly searched for the bedsheets when she realized her position. Finding none, She curled in a ball, hiding her bare breasts and open sex from the eyes of the stranger. 

"Guillermo's out for the rest of the month," he said. "Got a great offer from Catherine Zeta Jones to be her on set trainer while she shoots Son of Zorro." He stopped speaking for a moment and Jessica felt his eyes sizing her up. "I'm his cousin Carlos. I've been a trainer for years and have wonderful references, though I must admit I've never worked in Malibu before. I've heard Southern California was a gold mine for fitness workers. My cousin was right."

She grew uncomfortable as he spoke. Goose pimples broke out on her pale skin more from nervousness than the temperature in the room. "I'll be with you in a minute," she squeaked. "Just give me a chance to get myself together." 

He left the room, striding purposefully with the admonition, "Five minutes, you're already much too late." 

Once she had thrown water on her face in an effort to wake up and found a t shirt and a pair of loose shorts, she joined him. Her manager had fitted the penthouse with a treadmill, weight machine and free weights for a makeshift gym she didn't use as much as she was told to. Now Carlos was busily looking over the equipment and comparing it with the exercise regimen his cousin had left for him. He was taller than she, though not uncomfortably so, and his skin was a dark cream. His face gave the impression of youth though Jessica supposed he was much older than he appeared to be. His eyes were the most stunning she had ever seen. A dark brown, they seemed to draw her in when they focused on her. He had a soft gaze that made her weak if she held it long enough. His stare was direct and unyielding. She could see a woman losing herself in it. 

He was busy in his work when she walked in. "Catherine always gets what she wants. Perfect example of the Hollywood treatment gone to her head. Sometimes I think she was built in a lab from Zsa Zsa Gabor's DNA." 

He made no response to her attempt at humor, instead he walked to her, appraising her body. Kneeling down, he felt the muscle tone of her calves and worked upward to her thighs until his hands rested possessively on her buttocks. 

Her only reaction was to freeze. She felt violated yet knew better than to speak out. Trainers are supposed to have close interpersonal relationships with their trainers. Guillermo and her had been close, a small but present force in each other's personal lives. She knew the names of his mother and those in his immediate family while he was aware of all her idiosyncrasies and tendency to procrastinate. 

Without a word Carlos began loosening her shorts. She grabbed at his wrists to pull them away but he held firm. "This will not do. You've obviously been lax in exercising and you need a regimen and a trainer that won't let you walk over him." He tore the waist of her shorts, a button coming off and flying haphazardly through the air. "Fortunately you now have the latter. I'll make sure to get you on the right program before the day is out."

As he pulled her shorts off her bare legs, she shivered, futilely trying to hide herself from his view. She wore white bikini panties though, thankfully, he made no move to try and remove those. "Up on the treadmill," he said, slapping her ass not so playfully. Cursing under her breath she began walking and increased her pace as he changed her selections on the readout. The treadmill slowly moved to an uphill position. The speed was increased and it wasn't long before she was panting heavily and sweat dripped down her forehead to collect in damp patches on her shirt. All the while she conjured fantasies of what she'd do to this new trainer that embarrassed her in such a way and pushed her farther than he should. She imagined calling all her peers and their agents, outing him so he wouldn't work for anyone that paid more than a thousand a week. No respectable trainer could live on that in L.A. and he'd be forced to move somewhere less affluent and work in a gym where all he could find for clients were overburdened, under exercised housewives that just used him to feel better about their nonexistent health plan. 

How could he do this to her? Isn't she the one who paid his bills? She's not the one to take orders from him. Her frustration rose as her speed increased. She grew incensed at the idea of this stranger, one she had never met or even approved of before this day, coming into her home and talking this way to her. One who had the audacity to intrude on her in her own bedroom while she slept! The thought of this man staring at her while she slept naked caused her anger to peak and she grabbed the rails of the treadmill to lift her body from the now rapidly moving belt of the machine.

"Listen!" she yelled at she approached him. He was standing in the doorway where he had a good view of her exercising. Occasionally he would increase her speed and offer encouragement that she found only slightly more pleasant than being gawked at while sleeping. "I don't know who the hell you think you are but I didn't ask for someone to come in and feel me up, ogle me while I'm asleep and criticize me for being upset over seeing a strange man in my home." He looked at her patiently as she continued. "And if you think I'm going to let this continue, let you come in here and watch while I run my ass off for you- an intruder in my home- and talk down to me like I'm some flake that's never set foot in a gym before then you've got it all wrong, mister!"

Rather than look upset or ashamed by her tirade he merely stood there, his eyes keenly glaring at her as she spat out the words. Now worked up beyond any mere exertion, her face was colored a deep red as she stood, suddenly feeing very small. For a moment, he didn't speak, merely appraised her as she began to regret the words that she spewed so easily. His visage appeared darker and as his brow furrowed in anger, she suddenly remembered she stood almost bare, her dampened t shirt and tiny bikini panties all that kept her from being naked in front of him. 

As she stood frozen, her arms vainly attempting to cover herself, he walked to her until he stood mere inches from her body. She was eye level with his throat and when he spoke the words seemed to resound in the room.

"You will NOT talk to me in that tone again. I have come to help you be a better person, a better woman, and if I'm not wanted I'll just as soon take my leave but you will be hard pressed to find someone of my abilities." The words were calm and patient but with an underlying tone that she could only describe as a controlled anger. She found herself nodding her head, afraid to interrupt or speak in any way that would upset the man whose eyes held hers so completely. "You need my help more than any client I've ever worked with. You're lazy, rebellious and too used to getting your own way. I will stop all of these traits that are so unseemly in a girl like you."

"Girl?" She thought, "Did he just refer to me as a girl?"

"I won't put up with your attitude so if you've got the idea that I'm just another person you can push around or fire because they won't kiss your daytime tv queen ass then you can just forget it. A lot of people put up with your act in this town because they have to. I don't. I won't. So let me be perfectly clear. Get back on that treadmill now, turn the level up to make up for the time you've wasted and maybe this day can be salvaged." He ended just as calmly as he began, his eyes still holding hers, unrelenting.

His speech ran through her mind and though she felt angry, she found it slowly dissipating. Something uncertain had changed between them, something both of them felt as surely the sweat collecting on her brow. She no longer wanted to yell at this man. She felt embarrassed for what she had done and now wanted only to leave herself in his hands. She wanted to be the better girl for him to mold into the perfect woman, as she always wanted to be. Not looking forward to continuing the exercise but knowing better than to refuse, she turned to the treadmill only to feel the aching muscles of her thighs cramp and give out. She hit the floor with a clumsy thud and, tears forming at the corners of her eyes, raised up on her hands and knees to humbly crawl to the machine.

Arms folded he watched her with pleasure. He'd seen such cases before and knew the only way to make any progress. Grabbing her arm, he rudely yanked her up until she stood shakily on the balls of her feet. Without hesitation he led her to the far wall, throwing her so she stood palms flat against it. He held her by the neck, his thumb and fingers almost completely encircling it, and felt her tremble. She was scared, that was certain, but she was willing. She was learning and he had only to teach her what she needed.

One hand against the back of her thigh, he caressed the velvet- smooth skin until his touch rested on the fullness of her bottom. He could hear her breathing quicken and slipped his hand into the waistband, prolonging her torment. There he felt the soft fullness of her cheeks and the slick warmth of her crack. For a moment, he rested there, gauging her anticipation as she buckled under his touch. 

Slowly, as if wanting her to be fully aware of the action, he pulled her panties down and let them drop to her ankles. With a short command- "Feet up"- she rose and he pulled them off and threw them behind him. Then, in one unexpected swift movement, he grabbed the hem of her shirt and lifted it over her head and stripped it from her body. 

Before this morning it had been months since she'd been naked in front of a man and now to be seen bare twice in one day in front of a strange man made her shake. She felt weak, helpless and wanted to cover herself and run but knew she could not. She felt his eyes on her body, viewing her as no man ever had before. He saw her as a recalcitrant, obnoxious, weak girl. Just the thought of his eyes on her brought a warm moisture to her sex. 

He caressed her gently for a second before gripping the full heft of her asscheek possessively. Releasing it, she sensed the impact before it landed and steeled herself. His hand left a bright print on her left cheek, causing her to clench her teeth. Again his hand rose and fell, this time on her opposite side. The sting burst on her flesh and she cried inwardly, determined not to let out a sound. She was more than he thought. This was the only way to prove it to him. Whether it is running until she collapsed or the pain of his open hand she would not allow herself to crumble in front of him. 

As his hand continued its assault on her yielding bottom, her face became a grimace of determination. Eyes wincing tightly and jaw held in a firm lock, she kept all whimpers and cries to herself. Meanwhile her butt, now a bitter crimson, continued to receive the strikes of his cruel hand. She was bound to fall and cursed herself for this fact, seeing it as a weakness. Just as soon as the thought passed through her head, his blows stopped. For a moment all she could feel was the dull throb that radiated throughout her entire backside, seemingly worse than the actual spanks. She was thankful for the moment of peace and breathed heavily. 

There was a sound then, a quick, blurred sound that she recognized as the sound of a belt being pulled from its loops. She knew what would happen and began to cry in spite of herself. She made no noise, save for the soft sniffles, though she was certain Carlos heard it. This only made her cry more, all before even the first lick of the belt touched her skin. 

He watched her, her sculpted, round body shaking ceaselessly, her fire red butt incongruous with the fair clear skin of her body. Her rear was full, round and slightly heavy. With each sob a tiny ripple spread throughout the expanse of her bottom. One hand left the wall, allowing her to bury her face in her palm, crying pitifully. 

With a not unpleasant sigh, he reared the thick leather of his belt over his shoulder and aimed at the wide target of her back end. The belt whipped through the air, making a whistling sound before it connected, sending a burst of pain through her hindquarters. Before the sensation spread he raised his arm once more and delivered another, then another and another. Jessica cried openly now, lost to all promises of a stoic façade. Instead she found herself giving in to all he wanted. She had proven herself to be what he considered her; a weak, pampered, bitchy, lost girl.

What she found most disconcerting, however, was the fact that he didn't say a word as his hand and belt sent waves of pain through her tender skin. He made barely a sound at all as he immersed himself in his purpose and was sure of what he had to do. She could only stand and face what he had decided. 

This made it all the more difficult and she found herself unable to stay on her feet. Her butt seared in pain and the muscles of her body ached. She fell, just as she dreaded she would. Her body felt broken and from the corner of her eye she made out the soles of his shoes as he waited patiently. She cried without pretense, her tears flowing copiously as she knew she had finally met her better, the one who would not allow himself to be pushed and someone that would not take her excuses. At the same time she felt the patch of fur between her thighs dampen and rose up to slowly crawl towards him. 

Keeping her eyes toward the floor as she crawled, she came to the toe of his shoes. With her eyes closed and lips puckered she leaned towards it, offering a mere kiss as token of her surrender. Time felt supremely slow, the picture seemingly frozen altogether; a beautiful, naked woman kneeling before an imperious man offering all she can with a kiss. 

Before it touched, she was pulled up. Broken from her trance, she opened her eyes to see the room in a blur as he spun her around. His strong arm wrapped around her neck and she could feel his breath in her ear as he spoke; "Not yet, dear....you must earn that." She winced in acceptance and felt her body go slack as he supported her weight. Holding her by her shoulders, his other arms wrapped beneath her breasts where he could grab them. 

He left a deep pain in her nipple as he pinched it mercilessly, causing her to cry out. "For now you're my toy," he taunted. "I'll do with you as I wish and you have no choice but to obey."

She nodded, fearful of further pain he could cause her tender breasts. To her surprise his touch turned soft. Tenderly her stroked her nipple with warm fingers, touching it as a lover. Turning her face upwards, she closed her eyes and moaned anxiously, fully aware of how she appeared to him. Her feet danced, toes barely touching the floor as he held her like a puppet, his slightest touch eliciting a response from her weakened body. 

Just as quickly and without notice, his fingers became firm. His gentle caress turned to firmness then to sharp pain. Allowing her time to collect herself, he gripped her erected nipple once more between his fingers and twisted slowly. He pushed her beyond what she was used to, even in her solitary, stroking fantasies. Tears reformed in her eyes, this time from the pain and she bit back an urge to cry out or fight back. She knew she was too weak to do either. 

He moved to her other nipple and she felt the pain before his touch, like a premonition of what was to come. Her legs kicked and swung from under her, finding no footing. Held completely off the ground in his arms now, she knew she had no choice but to bear what he wished for her. 

Mercifully his cruel hands left her breasts and she cried out in relief. The smooth warmth of his palm traveled down her torso, over her smooth belly to the juncture between her thighs. His hand held her completely, fully cupping her mound in the hollow of his hand. It was a wonderful sensation that made her feel secure and protected by the same hand that moments ago brought only sharp pain. 

His fingers were gentler now, fervently loving her as his lips traveled up her neck, causing a rush of warmth that traveled through her sore breasts down to her pleading cunt. Instead of the cruelty she felt there was only tender softness and she found herself opening her thighs in invitation to his probing fingers. The middle finger of his hand slipped along her slit, finding it slick and hot. To her surprise, she was flowing heavily. Juices oozed out of her canal, drenching her thighs. A generous amount collected between the heavy globes of her ass. 

He kissed her then. With her eyes closed, mouth parted and head turned upwards, she did not expect it. As their lips met his fingers rubbed her lips playfully. When he found the pleading nub of her clit, he clamped his fingers around it tightly. He brought no pain upon it, only held it possessively between his two fingers. 

Her mouth opened and she breathed herself into him as he did this. She wanted to reach up and grasp him but his strong arms held her fast and she remained immobile. His bulge pressed deeply between her flayed cheeks as evidence of his need yet he remained unwavering. 

Her flesh twitched though he allowed her only the slightest motion and moved her body in rhythm with his hands. She felt her climax approach, filling her with an equal sense of both dread and joy. It would be the true sign of her surrender and though that upset her, she knew there was no way to deny it. Her body needed the release, cried, begged and screamed for it and inevitably it would have it. She only need to let go, give in to him and enjoy that which she had so worked for. 

When their kiss broke the first wave hit her. Her eyes immediately widened to stare up at his confident gaze. He knew exactly what he had done to her and knew exactly how she felt. Throughout the ordeal he had played her as she'd always hoped but could never admit, even to herself. The thought caused her to weep openly and her body twitched like a fish suddenly thrust into a waterless world. His iron grip held her as her body reacted to the waves of pleasure, tossing her in his arms. His hand began rapidly patting her sex as her climax erupted. Firm, gentle taps of his fingers drove her further and her sobbing, helpless body broke before him. 




Soap Opera Slave



Gently, he laid her out on the hardwood floor of the room where she struggled to regain her breath. Her mind floated and she found herself unable to think clearly. She wasn't sure if she was awake or asleep. Her entire body felt numb. 

Hands on his hips, he looked at her with a satisfied smile and nodded his head. "It will be even worse for you next time if you don't learn how to follow directions. Be a good girl and do as I say and you'll thank me for it."

She tried to give her assent but found herself unable to form any words. Without another word he turned his back and exited her home. Moments later she heard him enter the elevator and soon it began its descent. She lay there for an uncertain amount of time, listening to the silence and feeling her warm juices pool and slowly dry beneath her sex.



Soap Star Seduction



I've been the star of Jubilee Court for more than 20 years now. Well, a star of it. If someone mentioned the name Sylvia Richardson it wouldn't mean a thing to most people; but say Val from Jubilee Court and everyone knows who you mean – the fiery, busty, sex-mad peroxide blonde queen of Britain's favourite TV soap opera, on the box at peak time three evenings a week plus an omnibus on Sunday. Trouble is, we're not Britain's favourite anymore. We haven't topped the viewer ratings for three years now, and we've even slipped to third among the soaps. When that happens, everyone associated with a show starts to get very nervous about their job security.

There was a time when I was at the centre of almost every story. I'm in the record books as having appeared in more episodes than any other character. Over the years Val has had her way with half the blokes in the block of flats where the show is set. She made her debut as a 17-year old seducing a married pensioner; when she was in her mid-30s (I'm 43 now) and pregnant she took her teenage nephew's virginity at his mother's wedding reception; she once shagged a bloke while he was lying in hospital with his plastered leg suspended from the ceiling; Val even had a three-in-a-bed romp with a West Indian father and son. That one was fun to rehearse and film! The press have called me Voluptuous Val, Val the Vixen, Val the Vamp, you name it. I even got my own TV special once, Vivacious Val's Naughty Nights.

Recently though, I'd started to feature less and less. I was still in most episodes, but sometimes it was just down to a 30-second appearance buying a bag of sugar in the corner shop. What had been really worrying me lately was that the writers would be starting on the end-of-year episodes soon; and as everyone knows, one of the more prominent characters always dies at Christmas in Jubilee Court. One bookmaker already had me down as 2-1 favourite to be next. I started my career wanting to do Shakespeare and Hollywood, but after a quarter of a century playing one character I'm not sure I'm capable of anything else. I've got a champion in Joe Moss, one of the senior writers. We had a brief fling soon after he joined the show, nearly 20 years ago, and he's had a soft spot for me ever since, always giving me nice raunchy storylines. But now, every time he tried to put me back at the centre of things he was getting the same response: "Okay, so Val sleeps with another bloke. Oh yeah, very original." Joe's job wasn't exactly safe either.

I was getting increasingly desperate, and one day sitting with Joe I blurted, "All right, why doesn't Val get seduced by a girl instead?" He pointed out that we'd done the lesbian thing a few years ago with a couple of students. I came back, "Yeah, but that was two kids brought into the show for that purpose then written out again. This is Val we're talking about, the cock-hungry man-chaser. We could make it a young girl, half her age, French or something to give it a bit of a twist."

Joe began to like the idea then. "We could make her a Muslim; no maybe not, in the current climate. I know – what about Polish? Since the EU let the East Europeans in there have been hundreds of thousands of Poles coming to Britain, that'd give us all sorts of angles. Old Val pulled by a young Slavic beauty, a hint of racism against this new wave of foreigners coming in 'taking our jobs', setting Val against some of her oldest friends, the young girl's boyfriend kicking up a fuss, there's a goldmine of possibilities. With Val's record I don't know why we never thought of it before." I spent a nervous few days while Joe developed the characterisation, wrote a couple of sample scripts and pitched it to the editors. Then one afternoon he burst into my dressing room, completely ignoring the fact that I had my tits hanging out, grabbed my shoulders and gave me a huge kiss on my naked back. "You'd better start developing a taste for pussy Sylv; Val's about to go gay."

I must admit, I had a few doubts about the idea, even though it was me who came up with it. I've had more than my fair share of men in real life, including two ex-husbands, but I've never been sexually attracted to women. I've got a huge male fan base – I get thousands of e-mails from guys aged 10 to 100 asking for sexy photos, asking for dates, telling me their often bizarre fantasies about Val, and so on. (I must admit, I have tried out one or two of those fantasies with various boyfriends.) Of course, I get the odd contact from lesbians as well, but I normally just delete them without bothering to read them. Val hasn't exactly been the most dyke-friendly character in the past either. I don't suppose she invented the term 'carpet muncher' for women who eat each other's cunts, but she certainly used it quite liberally when those two lezzie students were in the show.

It's not that I've got anything against lesbians, or gay men, in real life. Half the cast and crew are that way inclined, and my best friend on the show, Wyn Francis, is a dyke. At least two straight young actresses had fled the show after being propositioned by Wyn, in one case successfully. She's a wardrobe mistress a good 10 years younger than me but we hit it off the first time we met. Shortly after the new storyline had been approved I took her to one side and asked her, haltingly, to give me a bit of advice on what lesbians did together, as a bit of character development for Val. Wyn stared at me as if I'd gone bonkers, rolled her eyes and said in her cute Welsh accent, "Oh for Christ's sake Sylv, you're not serious are you? Bloody hell, use your imagination." She paused for a moment then gave me a saucy smile. "Of course, if you fancy coming round to my place one night I'd be happy to give you a personal demonstration. I won't even charge you." I grinned and told her to piss off, but as I walked away I had an uncomfortable feeling that maybe my mate hadn't been altogether joking with me.

Anyway, we were all sworn to secrecy on the plot until Val's future lover was cast, and the producers set to work finding someone. After a couple of weeks they came up with Agnieszka Radwinska. Apparently she was already a minor star in Poland, but the name didn't mean a thing to me. She'd signed up for an initial three months, and she was looking to try and kick-start a TV career in Britain. I got to meet her before the deal was finalised. She was 22 or 23 I guessed, tall and willowy with long brunette hair, high cheekbones and big sensual lips; a nice pair of knockers too. She oozed sexuality, and knowing Gerry, our producer, as I do I could imagine his cock leaping to attention the moment he first set eyes on her. She had a sultry voice and a cute accent. Personally I thought she was probably too beautiful and sexy to be convincing as a student, but Gerry was already imagining what it would feel like inside her knickers and he was dead set on her. Thankfully she told us all to call her Anna, so we didn't have to try and wrap our tongues around that name.

Naturally, the moment she'd been cast what's known in the trade as an 'inspired leak' by the studio hit the tabloid press and I was front page news: Val's Lesbo Re-launch, The Vamp Goes Camp, that sort of rubbish. Overnight, entertainment journalists who hadn't wanted to know me for years were begging my agent for exclusive interviews, and Val was the name on everybody's lips again, just like the old days. Some of the newer starlets on the show had their noses quite put out of joint by it all. Anna and I did the rounds of the TV studios together and she played up to her part, adopting an innocent little girl voice I'd not heard before, hugging my arm and cuddling up close to me on the sofas. Officially the plot line was still under wraps so we couldn't confirm it, but I don't think her performances left anyone in much doubt about the closeness of our characters!

Anna and I did get on well, and we enjoyed rehearsing and filming together. From the moment her character, Ewa Nowak, appeared, the audience ratings shot up, with everyone wanting to see how the little innocent got big bad Val into bed. The make-up and hair styling teams did a brilliant job with Anna, and on-screen she really did look like a naïve 19-year old student. We worked our way through Val taking Ewa in as a lodger for the money; Val coming home and finding Ewa at it with her boyfriend on the sofa; Val having a huge row with her best friend over the other woman's racism towards Ewa; and Val coming home to throw out the tempestuous boyfriend just as he was about to beat Ewa up. I knew for certain that my career was saved when we were told that the death in the Christmas episode would be the boyfriend, with Val and Ewa being tried for his murder. It doesn't get any better in soap land than being the star of a murder trial. I made a mental note to make sure Joe wrote those scripts, so there was no chance of Val dramatically committing suicide on the eve of the verdict or something – or being found guilty of course!

That scene where Val evicted the boyfriend was in the episode before Ewa finally made her first move on her landlady. We filmed the fateful moment itself on a Friday. The date it was to be aired was leaked, and the producers were predicting the biggest audiences since a coach load of pensioners had crashed into one of the show's two pubs during the kiddies' party on Christmas Eve a good many years earlier. That Friday, Anna and I were both a bit nervous about filming our first kiss, so shortly before rehearsing it we had a couple of drinks in the Hospitality suite. The rehearsal went perfectly. Anna, playing Ewa, approached me and said "Valerie, you saved my life when you threw Janusz out - you don't know how crazy he is. I want to thank you properly. In my country this is how we say thank you." Then she put a hand behind my head and pulled my lips to hers, my eyes fluttering shut in anticipation as she pressed me against the front room wall. 

The kiss was meant to last about five seconds, and at the end of that time the director called "And cut...okay girls, you can stop now." We had carried on for several seconds after he wrapped the scene. The thing is, when you kiss on Jubilee Court you either keep your mouth closed or you open your mouth but keep your tongue still. Anna had slipped her tongue straight into my mouth and gone on an exploratory mission with it. She had been drinking Baileys in Hospitality, and her tongue tasted sweet and felt like silk in my mouth. To be honest, at that moment I was happy to carry on kissing as long as she was. When the director explained to Anna about our way of kissing she blushed and apologised, saying she didn't know as they did it for real in shows in Poland. What nobody had seen, as far as I was aware, was Anna's other hand, behind my back, slip down the waistband of my trousers, and one of her fingers stroke very firmly up the crease at the top of my bum! That had sent shivers through me, another reason why I hadn't wanted to stop kissing her.

Anna was a good girl when we did the actual filming and it went perfectly, with us both keeping our lips closed. Even so, the director said he thought the kiss was so steamy we'd be lucky if the schedulers didn't insist we aired that episode after the nine p.m. watershed! Afterwards, as we sat having coffee in Hospitality, Anna played the innocent and I decided not to mention what had happened in rehearsal. We were due to film our next big scene, where Ewa got down to seducing Val for real, the following Monday. Anna said she was quite anxious to get it exactly right, and suggested we get together to do an extra, private, rehearsal on the Sunday. Without really thinking about it I agreed, and we said goodbye for the day. As I said, I thought nobody had seen Anna feeling me up; but just after she left Wyn drifted by and, with a wicked leer, murmured to me, "I don't remember a line in the script that said 'Ewa sticks her hand up Val's arse'! Enjoy your, erm, rehearsal on Sunday." I felt my face flush deep red and told her totally unconvincingly that I had no idea what she was on about.

I didn't have much time on the Saturday to think about the rehearsal. In the morning I opened a new supermarket, with the manager getting a public snog with me and a sneaky grope of my bum, cheeky little sod; then in the afternoon I opened a carnival near my 'lovely Essex manor house', as Hello Magazine described my home, and judged various competitions. On the Sunday morning I took my two beautiful Afghan hounds for a run, then prepared for Anna's arrival. I thought I'd better dress the part, so I wore the sort of short denim skirt that Val would, together with a silk blouse and my favourite front-clasp push-up bra that really accentuates my big boobs. When Anna arrived she looked stunning. Her mini-dress was so short that as she climbed out of her taxi I got a clear look straight up to her skimpy lacy knickers. She had long, fabulous legs, accentuated by high-heel sandals. She gave me a hug and kissed me on the lips before breaking off to pet the Afghans. I suddenly felt very nervous about the situation. Never mind the fact that I was nearly twice this girl's age, and that I've never fancied a woman in my life: the feel of her lips on mine, her sweet-smelling perfume, and her boobs nestling into mine as she hugged me had had a strange effect on my body. My nipples strained against my bra, and I felt a hint of dampness between my legs.

I made us a pot of coffee and we sat down at the kitchen table to talk ourselves into the scene we were about to rehearse. After a couple of cups of brew, while reading through Monday's script a few times, Anna said in a matter-of-fact sort of way, "Okay, let's go into the lounge now and try out the moves." My face must have betrayed some uncertainty. She continued, "After all, there are some complicated directions in here, just to get us onto the sofa. We don't want to have to rehearse it too many times tomorrow. And once we're on the sofa together," she added with a giggle, "we need to know who's going to put what where." We moved through to the lounge and Anna did a few stretching exercises to loosen herself up. It's my little secret that part of my lounge is actually laid out like Val's flat in Jubilee Court, just so I can run through my moves in advance. I took up my starting position, by the door to the room.

The early parts of the scene went fine and, sure enough, in a couple of minutes we wound up sitting side-by-side on the sofa. Anna had learnt her lines to perfection. "You know Valerie," she said, smoothing an imaginary strand of hair off my face, "yesterday, when I kissed you, it did something strange to me. I don't know why, I've never felt this was about another woman before but...may I kiss you again?" I, as Val, nodded nervously, hardly daring to breathe. I didn't have to act that at all – the sexual vibes coming off Anna were almost visible like heat haze between us, and she was in total command of the situation. Her hand slipped behind my head, like before, and once again my lips melted onto hers. Not only was I not bothered when her tongue slid between my lips, my own tongue made a lazy circle around hers and made its own foray into her sweet mouth. She had one hand in my lap, and a tiny remaining part of the actress in me thought it would be better if her arm extended around my waist. That hand sliding up my leg, under my skirt, definitely wasn't in the script; neither was her finger slipping past the gusset of my thong panties and straight into my suddenly drenched pussy.

Anna's lips slid down my throat and onto my chest as her other hand moved from behind my head and started unbuttoning my blouse, slowly, seductively. When she saw my front fastening bra she murmured "How convenient", and unclipped it in an instant. As it fell away from my boobs it was replaced by her mouth, kissing its way down the flesh of one of my tits to my big engorged brown nipple. She curled her fingers around the other tit and caressed it teasingly. By now we were laying on the sofa, and it felt as if Anna's whole hand was in my pussy as she slowly finger-fucked me. I couldn't remember having felt so aroused in my entire life, and my hips started thrusting at her hand, as if I was trying to get her entire arm inside me.

When Anna whispered that she wanted to eat me out I didn't stop to think for a moment, I just moaned "Oh God yes, please." A smug smile flickered across her face and she slipped to the floor between my legs. In a second my soaking panties were off and I shuddered, and tensed in anticipation as I felt her warm breath on my inner thighs. When her tongue licked the length of my snatch I felt as if I was about to go into orbit. No-one had done that for me for a long time, and no man I'd met had been as good at it as Anna. She began flicking her tongue back and forth across my clit, pausing occasionally to suck on it with her lips, and resumed finger-fucking me with one hand while with the other she stroked and tweaked my sensitive labia. As she pressed her face more and more firmly into me my hips slid forward on the sofa, wanting more of the joy she was giving me, until eventually I was more or less sitting on the poor girl's face. As I felt my orgasm starting to build up I lifted one of my big tits to my mouth and sucked on my own nipple, but it didn't block the scream of lust that tore out of me as, moments later, my juices cascaded onto Anna's lapping tongue.

I felt quite dazed after that, and meekly followed as Anna took my hand and led me up the stairs to my own bedroom. She stripped both of us quickly and efficiently and we lay on the bed kissing and cuddling. Then she reached across to my bedside table and said, "Look what I've found Sylvia. Would you like me to use it?" It was my big, cock-shaped vibrator, which I always keep handy in the bedroom. I just nodded dreamily, and lay back as Anna switched it on, and began softly rubbing the twitching tip across the damp blonde hair around my pussy. I was so desperate to get it inside me that I shuffled down the bed, but she kept teasing me, just keeping the toy at the very edge of reach so it tickled agonisingly sensuously across my slit. 

Finally, just when I thought I was going to faint with frustration, she rammed it hard into me, right up to its vibrating plastic balls, making me gasp. As she reamed it around me I felt the most fantastic waves of pleasure sweeping through my body. I was about to suck my tit again but Anna beat me to it, feeding one of her own small pale boobs into my mouth. I happily chewed on her small, round, nut-hard pink nipple. I felt Anna's hand drift across my buttocks and adjusted my position slightly to give her better access. Sure enough, two fingers wormed their way up my anal passage and forced their way into me. With the vibrator reaming my cunt and Anna's fingers doing the same to my bum there was no way I was going to last long, and I released her tit from my mouth for fear of biting down on it as, seconds, later, I had another shattering climax, hugging Anna tightly to me.

We both rested for a while after that, Anna's head nestling on my pillowy tits as her fingers twirled idly in the long blonde curls on my mound. I had never had the slightest desire to sleep with a woman before, but I felt incredibly tender towards this beautiful young satyr who'd given me the most intense sexual experience I'd had in years. After a while she raised her head and, a hint of appeal in her eyes, whispered, "Is it my turn now?" I had sort of known this was coming, and I was dreading it; but after we'd kissed for a while I started to move my head down towards her pussy. Anna stopped me and swung around into a 69 position below me, offering the promise of a reward for pleasuring her. 

Unlike my wild pubic bush, Anna's brown hair was clipped to maybe a quarter-inch, and fashioned into the shape on an arrow pointing straight down to her pussy. Also unlike mine, which extends right round my pussy, Anna's hair ended, apparently quite naturally, where her puffy pink-brown vulva started. Unsure exactly what to do, I eased her labia gently apart with my thumbs, and was immediately rewarded with a squeak from her. When, taking the plunge as it were, I applied my tongue to her slit and licked it downwards from her clit she squealed and gripped my bum cheeks, her short but sharp fingernails pressing into me. Quickly getting into my stride, I licked, sucked and nibbled Anna's clit while I finger fucked her and stroked her labia with my fingers, enjoying her bitter-sweet musky aroma as she gasped, sighed and squirmed on my tongue and hands. Against my expectations I was finding eating her pussy an entirely pleasurable and very arousing experience, and the pleasure increased ten-fold when she returned the favour, pinning me open with her thumbs and fucking me with her tongue for all she was worth. I'm not sure exactly how long we kept it up, but we both came several times before I collapsed exhausted and completely sated.




Soap Star Seduction



Both the rehearsal of our big scenes and the filming itself went perfectly on the Monday. The scene on the sofa was meant to last a few seconds, but the director just kept the cameras rolling and we kept 'acting', with Anna's hand actually cupping my pussy under my skirt before the scene was finally wrapped. Later, my pal Wyn sidled up to me in the canteen and muttered, "You want to watch your back, girl. Gerry won't be happy if he realises you're fucking Anna when he's got nowhere with her." I didn't bother to deny it, or even to wonder what had tipped Wyn off; I simply joked that it sounded as if she was jealous herself. She tried to make her reply sound light-hearted, but to my surprise she turned her face away from me in an unsuccessful attempt to stop me seeing tears spring to her eyes as she said, "Of course I'm jealous, I've wanted to get into your knickers for the past nine years, you old slapper." I felt so sad for Wyn, and so guilty at never having realised her true feelings for me, that I felt sudden tears prickling in my own eyes.

Reaction to Anna's and my big episode of the show was astonishing. We got the biggest TV audience for a soap shown in Britain for eight years. We received a couple of hundred complaints that the scene on the sofa went too far, but a couple of thousand compliments, and demands for Val and Ewa's story to be released as a DVD special. The critics said it was the most erotic moment in the history of soap operas. The best news is that my future is absolutely guaranteed. Val's going to be acquitted in the murder trial, but Ewa will be found guilty, making for a heart-rending farewell in the cells. Not that Val will be on her own for long: having discovered her alternative sexuality she's going to fall into the arms of a beautiful Jamaican woman closer to her own age, and the two of them are going to buy one of the pubs and turn it into a chic cocktail bar! There's even talk of a spin-off series, a camp Saturday night variety show staged in the bar called 'Everyone Comes To Val's'.

In the meantime, I'm not dim enough to believe Anna is in love with me or anything. I'm just an easily available source of sexual gratification, with the added frisson for her of having an affair with me on- and off-screen. And when she leaves the show, my dear, loyal, devoted friend Wyn will still be there. She's the reason I'm getting dolled up at the moment – she's invited Anna and me round for a late supper. Of course, there's no way I'm going to be able to get back home tonight. You know, I really did enjoy that three-in-a-bed scene I did all those years ago...!



Soap Suds



The sun is high overhead and the air hangs heavy with humidity. The kind of day that is best described as “steamy”. There’s just a hint of a breeze to cool the perspiration that slowly trickles down between my breasts. I’ve agreed to come over and wash your car today even though I know you won’t be available to help, you have work to do inside. I’m wearing as little as possible to try and stay cool. A tight white tee shirt rides just high enough to show off the tiny diamond I wear in my pierced belly button and an old pair of faded cut off jeans completes the outfit.

I bend over slowly dipping the sponge into the sudsy water. As I am bending over I am aware that you are spying on me from the window in the living room.  Your eyes lazily stare at the definition of my strong leg muscles as I bend over; the shorts are so short that you can see just the hint of my tan ass cheeks. You reach down to the need that is rising as you watch me. Absentmindedly you unbutton your pants, sliding the zipper down as you continue to be transfixed by the view. I rise up, splashing the suds on the hood, using the sponge back and forth. My body is rocking back and forth, breasts swaying with the motion of the strokes I am using to clean the hood. You are using your own back and forth strokes just inside the door. You have now slid your pants down to the floor, your hands fumbling to push aside all fabric. Your fingers gripping…stroking in time with my strokes outside.

I continue lovingly stroking, scrubbing every inch of your car. My long hair clings to my neck as I work harder and harder. The sweat and soapy water mix on my shirt so that you can see the outline of my hard pick nipples through the tee shirt. I bend over each time I clean a tire..each time making you moan with desire as you imagine me bent over, screaming, begging you to take me from behind. Take me deep; fill me with every inch of your hard cock.

I reach for your hose, turning the nozzle until water shoots out in a thick, steady stream. All the while you have been building, waiting inside. It’s too much, drops of water dripping down my legs, suds on my belly, perky tits straining against thin wet fabric. You moan softly and explode in a climax of pleasure while watching the little show I am putting on for you.

I am almost done outside; the water rinses all the soap away. The spray blows back in my face, cooling me but only for a second. The sun is beating down, making a rainbow of the spray around me. You can’t help but stare, taking me in. My hair hanging down my back in long wet tendrils, my tan face flushed pink from exertion, my breasts heaving up and down with every breath. Drops of water cling to my narrow waist, down to the curve of my hips where my shorts rest. My legs are splattered with soapsuds. You’ve never felt this much desire for any woman other than me; you know you have to have me now.

I begin putting away my tools. I wind the hose up and open the door to the storage shed. It’s dark and musty smelling inside. As I am bent over putting the hose away, the door suddenly closes and you grab me, wrapping your hand roughly across my mouth to suppress my scream. Pain ripples through me as you roughly grab my breasts, squeezing my nipple hard. Your hot breath is in my ear, huskily whispering that you are going to fuck me and there is nothing I can do to stop you. Somehow I manage to squirm away from you. I reach the door and thrust it open but it’s not soon enough, you use my momentum to scoop me up over your shoulder. You carry me across the lawn and into the house. Down the hall we go, I protest the entire way. You throw me down on the bed. My soapy wet body exciting you even more. I can see your cock straining against your pants. You grab my hands and put them over my head while you roughly hold them with one hand. The other hand is groping at the button on my shorts..sliding them down slowly..enjoying teasing me. You know by the look in my eyes that I am so hot for you. I won’t fight you anymore. I want this more than anything. You are taking too fucking long! In desperation I reach up and yank your shirt over your head..ripping it but not caring. I roughly grab your shorts and rip them from your body..pulling underwear and shorts down in one swift stroke. I’m hungrily kissing you.  Our tongues are probing, teasing, tasting, and dueling. I reach down and push my own soaking wet panties down. I reach down and savagely push your head down between my bare wet legs. Oh god, yes. Lick my pussy!!!

You use your tongue roughly. Probing, licking, and biting me. Making me so desperate for you. You know just how I like it. Finger my pussy while you suck, lick and gently bite at my clit. HARDER!!! Oh yes, that’s it! My head is spinning with desire now.  I have to have your cock inside my pussy right now. I jerk you up and you plunge your pussy juice tongue into my mouth, making me taste my own pussy on your mouth as I move on top of you. I poise myself above your hard cock, hesitating while we look into each other’s eyes. You moan and your head arches back as I slowly slide down and impale myself onto you. Riding you deeper and deeper, in and out. I lean forward as you suck my tits while I grind my clit against you. I lean back then and use my fingers to trace circles around my clit while I pump away on your cock. I look into your eyes as I bring my fingers up to my lips and greedily lick all the pussy juices off my fingers. You put your hands on my hips and work me up and down on your stiff cock. I pause as the bottom to grind strongly against you. In and out, working ourselves into frenzy. I can feel my pussy quivering, being pushed to it’s limits by your big cock. I can’t take it any longer, moaning and screaming as we both cum loudly, not caring who might hear us. We milk our orgasm of every last drop, riding every wave of pleasure, gliding slowly until I have milked you of every last drop.

I lean forward, spent; resting on your chest while you are still inside me. We don’t need to speak; it’s wonderful as always. I kiss you, nuzzling your neck.



Soap, Water, And Loving Sex



It was quiet time at the hospice. The old man was sitting all by himself, wondering if he would still be alive tomorrow. He wasn't worried, just wondering. He presumed he was alone because he couldn't see. His eyesight had completely given out a couple days earlier. Only one ear still worked. He might have been able to walk, but he couldn't see where he was going and didn't care. Doctors could have patched him enough to keep him breathing, but he refused to return to the hospital again, and left orders he was not to be given any extraordinary treatment to extend his life, not even resuscitated . He would have ended it himself but the law forbad suicide, and the hospice workers weren't about to smuggle any weapons or poison in to him. 

His own life nearly useless, he was adamant he didn't want to inflict his own helplessness on others. He could tell by the reaction of his children their visits were a terrible chore. Nobody dared make the inane suggestion that "oh you'll outlive us all." And nobody dared talk of that "happier place" fools wish off on the dying. The kids came, but he often made it easy for them. He would feign being asleep. Today one of the care givers had pushed him and his wheel chair into an empty library. They knew what he appreciated more than anything, solitude! In the library he daydreamed of his life. It was better than exchanging meaningless minutia with kids who waited his death. 

Nevertheless an aide interrupted his reverie. "Mr. Jackson, a lady would like to visit you. She says she's an old and special friend." 

"Unless she's a hot babe, tell her to get lost." 

"She's lovely sir." Yeah, sure. He rather hoped she had a bible and wanted to save his ass from hell – nothing better than a rousing argument with a rabid evangelist. He stared off towards where he guessed she might be. This blind business took some getting used to. 

Then a chair's legs grated as the aide pushed it across the floor. At least it was closest to his remaining good ear. Damn this dying was a pain in the ass! 

Then he felt the guest's hand on his. She squeezed it gently and said, "Hello Lovie." 

Lovie! It was her! Only one person had ever made up such a stupid nickname for him. He squeezed back and whispered, "Lay your head upon my pillow. . .."

She answered, "Hold your warm and tender body close to mine. . ."

Tears were rolling down his cheeks when he answered again, "Listen to the whisper of the raindrops 

Blowing soft against the window."

A choked voice answered, "Lovie, you always fucked that up. it's 'hear the whisper' not listen to it.' " 

His smile was spontaneous and his first real one in days: "You were the first girl who used the word fuck on the first date with me."

Again she squeezed his hand and he could feel her smile as she said, "You were the first guy to give me a bath on the first date."

"Oh god how much of that do you remember?"

"All of it, lovie." 

"Me too. I think of us together every day. When I hear "For the Good Times" I cal almost feel you. Oh god I still love you."

She said, "I haven't allowed myself to think of you that way for years, but I'm going to cry if we don't stop." 

"Still married to him?"

"No, he died a few years ago. I did try so hard to love him, and I did have a deep affection for him, but you were always there. Thanks for not trying to contact me. That helped." 

"Still you remember. Tell me our story as you remember. Include the salacious parts. Let's see if you can give a feeble old man a boner."

"Fair enough, but I'll have to use caution. This old woman has been told to avoid excitement herself."

"You know I'm a goner. Maybe we can die together."

"That would be sweet. Anyhow, Lovie, I stopped in at the midtown bar that night so many years ago. I had just broken up with my boy friend. I don't think I was on the prowl but a long weekend loomed and I would be alone. Maybe I just wanted a drink. Like to hear it as I remember it Lovie?" 

He squeezed her hand. A tear rolled down his cheek. "Yes, tell me a story." 

The story: 

Marian was thinking "It's Friday night and I had to break up with Gerry last week. Let's see what is happening at the old watering hole." She didn't much care for a drink, but the weekend loomed and she didn't like football or whatever dominated TV on weekends. Now in her forties, she detested being alone. She took a stool at the end of the bar, next to him. 

He was standing, tall and rather handsome. But best of all he spent money and exuded confidence. He gave her the eye. She could tell he liked what he saw. Like all guys he was fascinated by her boobs. 

This might be a happy, happy-hour. A sizable group of late Friday afternoon drinkers were in a mellow mood, none more so than the guy she sat next to. He was witty and loud, leading the conversation for everybody in the vicinity. As the others made their way home, he paid more attention to her. 

She was easy to pay attention to, conversation stopper just by coming into a room. When he addressed her directly he acted as if nobody else in the world existed. Familiar with the bar scene herself she knew he would make a move sooner or later. The only question was whether she would go along. 

Time flew. A couple glasses of wine and she was almost looking forward to the inevitable seduction. Marion loved the give and take of the age-old game. She played it often and well since her divorce a couple years earlier. She fired the first shot, by looking at her watch and said, "Oh god, it's getting late."

"You have somewhere to go?" he asked.

"Yeah, home. I have to eat."

"Look I was thinking of trying out the seafood buffet at the Hilton out on the beach. Like to join me? It includes a whole lobster."

My god! This was more than she expected. She knew that she was an easy date but this made her feel like . . . well, something. Now she wondered if it was a bona fide invitation. She tested the waters, "Oh, I think I better go home." 

"Please! I'd consider it a favor. I'm alone and will not go unless I have company. Really, please?"

"A real lobster eh? If you're sure, I'd really like that." Now she hoped he was as interesting one-on-one as he had been with an audience of Friday afternoon drinkers. Some guys are the life of the party but freeze up when alone with a woman.

Not this guy. On the way out he held out his hand and said, "I'm Jake, and you?"

"Hi I'm Marian, and I'm a nurse at that big hospital up on the hill." 

"I'm a fucking insurance salesman. Like to see why they call me that?"

It was a good one but she allowed herself just a polite smile. 

The Friday night seafood special brought lots of people into the hotel. But, as advertised, it was there and it was good, especially the lobster. Conversation was easy with this guy Jake. He was not only a good conversationalist, he brought out the best in her. If nothing else happened it would be a nice evening. He had been there and done that. Best of all he understood what made the world tick. She thought he might be the proverbial guy she'd like to be stranded on a deserted island with, or a room at the Hilton. 

After dinner, they moved to the bar. Another drink, but he wasn't pushing it. He asked her to dance. It was her turn to make a move. She moved in closer than would be proper on a first date. He pulled even and she felt his erection. "Hmmmm that's obviously deliberate." Now it was just be a matter of time. She bet herself he wouldn't put the room on a credit card. This guy had all the earmarks of a married guy. There would be no faux shyness, his erection pressing against her wasn't shy. With his self confidence and her ability to leave her inhibitions behind this promised to be just what she hoped for. He wouldn't be a dud in bed. 

The invitation wasn't long in coming. "Marian, may I ask you a personal question," he asked?

She looked up at him and nodded.

"Would you spend the night with me?"

Perhaps she should play it coy, just for show. She had a notion to turn him down, but she was afraid he wouldn't ask a second time, and she certainly didn't want to spend the night dancing. She just smiled and nodded a second time. 

"Tonight?" 

She whispered in his ear, "Yes. Do you want to fuck me?" 

"Yes I want to fuck you all night." 

"Beat's sleeping. You have enough for a room?" 

It was his turn to nod. Off they went to the hotel office. Marian had quit smoking but this occasion seemed to warrant one. She wasn't especially nervous. She just wanted a bit of time for introspection. She dug around the bottom of her purse and found a pack with a cigarette still in it. She lit up as he was registering. 

As they walked to the room he put his hand on her ass and fondled it. She knew he was checking to see if she was wearing panties. She was but wished she wasn't. A guy's discovering his paramour is not wearing any always lit him up. Why hadn't she shed them on her last visit to the lady's room. 

They walked to the room. It had two queen sized beds. He said, "Looks like one too many beds." 

This was going to be easy. Marian turned to Jake, put her arms around him, and pulled his face to hers. This was their first kiss. It soon became a Frenchie. More fondling, then as they embraced he pulled the zipper in back and her dress fell to her waist. Jake reached in back to unhook her bra. He couldn't find the hasp. She smiled at him and unfastened it from the front. He was treated to a view of the nicest set of tits he ever saw, and this on a woman in her forties. 

Soon they were naked and in bed. As was usual for him he started kissing his way down her body. When he got close to her triangle she stopped him. "Please don't." she said.

"But it's better if I do that first." 

"I know lovie but I want to be squeaky clean and . . . well it's just a thing with me. 

"How about if I give you a bath?"

"Huh?"

"Sure. Let's take a shower together and I'll make your most private parts squeaky clean before we defile them with tongue and pecker."

Sure enough. He wasn't kidding. The Hilton folks graciously provided a shower cap, probably with this particular purpose in mind, but it worked. Both later reflected that sex and a warm, soapy shower go together well. Scarce an erotic novel is written without one episode of it, and this was a hot one – two adults still in their prime taking part in one of the most erotic episodes of foreplay possible. She stood facing the shower, her lover of a few hours directly behind her. As the hot water cascaded over her face and down between her titties he reached around and grasped both titties. She smiled and move back feeling her erection pressing against the cheeks of her butt. Ahhhhh this was it.

She handed him the bar of soap and he made good use of it. Each of her recently modified and upgraded titties were gently massaged. Then one hand continued to stay on one titty while the other moved south. She started moving her hips in rhythm to his lathered fingers as they fondled and caressed her nether regions. Soon she began to make the noises he came to associate with their love making, noises he would remember the rest of his life. She was a talker, "OOOH GOD JAKE. THAT'S IT, RUB IT RIGHT THERE." Then she gave with a low growl followed by a high pitched, if muted, shriek. 

She turned and held him, their bodies tight together She retrieved the soap and asked, "You cum quick?"

A tad perplexed, he answered, "Nope. Why?" She reached down grasped his erect cock and gave it a lathering as he'd done to her. When he started gyrating his hips, she said, "Okay big boy. Let's fuck." They didn't bother drying off. 

Warm soapy water now clinking to their naked bodies, she led him back to the bedroom, lay down on the bed, and spread her legs. Although the shower was to be a prelude to cunnilingus, that was forgotten. The hot foreplay ignited the passions of both. Jake moved on top of , she looked up at him, and raised her ass. It slipped in easily. 

Now she was wet inside and out. She gasped and pushed back. Soon their were making a squishing sound as they went at it. He held her so tight her tits were squashed, but that didn't bother her. Nothing did. 

She started what would be the first of a continuation of orgasms as he kissed her on the mouth while holding one titty with one hand while fondling her ass with the other. Each stroke ignited her. Soon she was murmuring. "Ooooh god Jake. Oh god that is so good. I love you Jake." Then she started babbling as he pounded it inside her with hard and harder strokes. 

The finish was coming and both were ecstatic. He pushed it in and held it tight as she wiggled on him. He kissed her again as she felt his explosion inside her. Both always remembered that never was a first sexual encounter so good.

Both felt a bit of arousal as finished her story. Jake thought he even felt the stirrings of an erection. 

"What's funny is that I didn't go down on you," Jake said. 

"Oh not then but the next three times that night you did, and every time thereafter."

"And you never reciprocated."

sighed, "No but I tried. Honest I really wanted to do it just for you."

Jake laughed, his first laugh in months. he said, "Yes you tried and you were so serious about it. When I came over to visit that afternoon you were wearing nothing but your panties and bra. As I kissed you I immediately started fondling you. Then you looked up at me and said, 'I have a special surprise for you Lovie.' At that you led me up to the bedroom. 

"When we were naked you again kissed me then paused and said, 'Ready lovie?' Then you kissed your way down to my erection, looked up, smiled bravely then said, 'Lovie' This is it. All the way."

Jake said, "You were so serious. You really tried. Then when it started feeling good you went 'urp' and pulled off.' "

"Yeah I wanted to do it, really wanted to." 

"Then I started laughing."

"Yea it seemed so funny, we both broke up."

Jake said, "We were like that, could see the humor in everything, but I still had my hard-on and we did it dog fashioned after that. I loved looking at you in the mirror when we did that. Your tits bounced with each stroke and when your hair fell over your face you looked like a wild woman."

"And later you mailed me one of the darling notes we exchanged. One simply you would always remember our funny foiled felllatio. I kept that note for a long time, even after I got married." 

Jake was afraid of the answer but he had to ask, "Still got nice tits."

"Best septuagenarian tits in town. Nobody is around want to cop one last feel, lovie?"

Jake realized two old people were cavalier about their imminent deaths and it made him feel superior to those who dread it. They had such magnificent memories. He answered Marion, "Yeah, one last feeling to take to my crematorium."

She unbuttoned her blouse pulled her bra out and freed them. Again took his hand and put it inside. He looked rather strange staring ahead but smiling as he felt the titties he thought about so often. God they were still firm. And again tears streamed down his cheeks. "Marion I love you so much."

"And I love you Jake, and I'm crying with you." She put his hand back. Now, neither could find anything to say. They sat silent. 

In a few minutes Jake stiffened and sat still. His unseeing eyes still staring at nothing. But he was no longer breathing. Marion checked his pulse. As she had expected there was none. She found an emergency button and pushed it. 

This was almost routine at the hospice. One aide came, closed his eyes, and with a smile said, "I'm guessing he had what they call a happy death?" 

Marion made her way outside. There she sat in her car and let it all out. Her lover of four decades earlier was now dead. Eventually she shook it off and made her way home. Her house was empty but her daughter would be over that evening. "I have to do it now or I'll chicken out," she said. 

She found the pill she had been saving for this occasion, But she had two more tasks. She said to herself, "I want to look pretty again, but kinda wild too," She washed her face almost eliminating the evidence of her crying spell. Then she tousled her hair so it fell over her eyes. Then she took the pill and lay down on the bed. 

In a few hours her daughter came in and saw her mother lying on the bed, looking peaceful despite her tousled hair. A note beside her said, "Don't be sad. We both died happy." 



Soapies



Housekeeping is a real pain. I can do if when I have to but generally try to make sure I don't have to. I contacted a local mob called Dial-A-Maid and set up a contract with them. It's a fixed price contract so if they finish the work quickly some days it's balanced out by them having to take extra time other days. I find they do a good job.

The maid that they have arranged to do my housework is Carlene. She's relatively young, early twenties is my guess, quite pretty and willing to work hard. She comes around twice a week.

After a while I noticed that Carlene always seemed to spend longer doing the house on Thursdays compared to Mondays. Initially I just chalked it off as one of those things, assuming that she does extra jobs on the Thursday. Like I said earlier, fixed price, so it didn't worry me.

On the first day she came Carlene asked if I minded if she had the TV on while she worked, as she liked to keep an eye on it. It served as a little distraction to her and she assured me it wouldn't interfere with the performance of her duties. It didn't worry me and I told her to go ahead.

Carlene proved to be a good and thorough worker and I had no cause for complaints from the service I was getting. I would have been quite willing to give Dial-A-Maid as a referral if anyone I knew was looking for that sort of service.

If I was asked if I had any complaints about the service the most I could come up with would be a couple of minor things. Not so much complaints as comments. Dial-A-Maid as part of their advertising insisted that their people wear a uniform and Carlene's uniform was a little on the revealing side. Not enough to cause offence, but it gave a sort of counterpoint to my second comment. 

Carlene was mildly flirtatious. Nothing obvious and I'm not even sure she was aware of it. It just seemed as natural to her as breathing.

After a couple of months I finally found out why Carlene took longer at her work on Thursdays. There were a couple of soap operas on, and she was hooked on them. You know the sort of thing I mean -- Days of our Wives, The Young and the Breathless, things like that. 

Carlene's habit was to spend time doing the lounge room while watching and once it was complete she'd nip into the other rooms whenever the ads were on to continue working. Once the shows were finished she would then concentrate on her work.

Carlene was totally hooked on these shows, to the point that she'd talk to the characters, giving them advice as they staggered from crisis to crisis. 

By an odd chance I came across an article on one of these shows that indicated one of Carlene's favourite characters was about to undergo another crisis. I found myself curious as to how Carlene was going to react, so I quietly wandered into the lounge when I realised the big moment was coming up.

Carlene was leaning against the back of the couch, bouncing on her toes and trying to give advice to Mary-Beth, who by an odd coincidence was leaning on the back of a couch watching TV. Mary-Beth was a maid on the show and had to wear a maid's uniform, although more in the French style than the uniform that Carlene wore.

As I think I mentioned earlier, Carlene's uniform was probably a little more abbreviated that Dial-A-Maid wanted, and as she bounced on her toes her skirt was also bouncing, flashing her frilly panties at me.

Carlene was frantically telling Mary-Beth to turn around while Master Pierre was walking sneakily up behind her. The first intimation that Mary-Beth had of trouble ahead was when Pierre lifted her skirt and pulled down her panties. This is daytime TV, remember. We didn't actually see it happen but everyone knew that it had.

Carlene certainly knew what had happened as I couldn't resist the similarities. When Pierre tugged Mary-Beth's panties down I did the same with Carlene's. The squeals from Mary-Beth and Carlene were identical, and I'm sure the shocked faces were the same. 

Carlene's shocked "What do you think you're doing?" exactly matched Mary-Beth's.

"I'm letting you find out exactly how Mary-Beth feels right now," I told Carlene. "Look at her. She's facing the same problem. What do you think Pierre will do now?"

"You can't do something like that," snapped Carlene. "Mary-Beth will probably box his ears and I'm going to do the same."

"Bet she doesn't," I said, knowing full well what was going to happen. Pierre was standing too close to Mary Beth for her to turn around or move away and his hands were already closing upon her blouse.

"I'll bet you he rips Mary-Beth's blouse open and reveals her breasts before covering them with his hands."

"He will not," protested Carlene. "They wouldn't let him." 

Her attention had swivelled firmly back to the TV, apparently forgetting that her own panties were still at half-mast.

Actually they would, and I damn well knew it. Even as Pierre reached around in front of poor Mary-Beth I was pulling Carlene's top out from her skirt and lifting it up, peeling her bra off at the same time.

Again we had twin squeals as Mary-Beth and Carlene found their boobies on display, followed by another pair of squeals as wicked hands closed over them.

"Will you stop that?" demanded Carlene.

I laughed. "That's just what Mary-Beth just said," I pointed out. "How do you think she's feeling right now with Pierre handling her like this?"

While I was talking I was also gently rubbing her breasts and rolling her nipples against my palms which was probably more fun than poor Mary-Beth was getting. Pierre just seemed to be clutching her breasts, showing no finesse whatsoever.

"She's probably feeling annoyed," snapped Carlene. "Let me go."

"In a moment. What do you think Pierre is doing now? Mary-Beth is starting to look a little distressed."

Carlene couldn't help herself. Her eyes flashed back to the screen in time to see Pierre free one breast, which Mary-Beth promptly covered, while Pierre's free hand dropped down behind her, being followed swiftly by squeals and protests.

"I bet he's doing something like this," I said, releasing one of Carlene's breasts. Her hand came up to cover it modestly while my hand dropped down and closed over her pussy.

"From Mary-Beth's squeals of protest he's starting to get her worked up, whether she wants him to or not," I murmured, as I started kneading Carlene's pussy, squeezing and stroking it.

"He's not doing anything of the sort," protested Carlene, "now will you please let me go."

"Just as soon as Pierre lets Mary-Beth alone," I told her. "Just think, you're actually playing her part right here, feeling what she's feeling right now."

"But what if he doesn't let her alone," protested Carlene.

"Well, there's only so much they can show on daytime TV," I pointed out, continuing to stroke my own maid. "You should be safe enough."

This didn't really seem to console Carlene very much as she was wriggling against me quite determinedly. Mind you, it's hard to move away from someone when they seem to have slipped an intrusive finger or two where you'd prefer they didn't have a finger or two.

The ads came on and Carlene seemed to give a small sigh of relief. This was promptly quashed as I just told her we'd just hold things as they were until the show came back on. For the next several minutes a protesting Carlene had to put up with me massaging her breasts and pussy while praying for the show to resume and Pierre to finally leave Mary-Beth alone.

I knew what was coming, but the resumption of the show was a bit of a shock to Carlene. Pierre pushed Mary-Beth more firmly against the couch and from the rising squeals of protest it was pretty evident what was about to happen.

Anticipating this I had already unzipped and released my own erection, and Mary-Beth's squeals of protest were promptly joined by Carlene's as she felt my cock pressing against her pussy. I didn't enter her. After all, Pierre had not yet started to ravish poor Mary-Beth. He was working his way up to it though.

Then the camera zoomed out, leaving the house, but you could hear poor Mary-Beth starting to wail, and taking my cue I pressed forward into Carlene. She was hot and wet and my cock slipped straight in full length with that first firm thrust.

Carlene gasped and lifted slightly, pushing back against me. I tut-tutted at her.

"Mary-Beth is wailing she's being violated, not trying to ride Pierre's cock," I pointed out.

"Oh, screw the whining bitch," snarled Carlene. "What are you waiting for?"

Nothing, it seemed, and I drove into Carlene with a will. 

Carlene was now quite willing to meet me half-way. She appeared willing to go even further and was pushing herself firmly against my cock in fine style as I plunged repeatedly into her. My arms were around her, holding her breasts as I took my pleasure, thrusting long and hard, drawing little squeals of excitement from her as I pounded into her.

Pierre finished his ravishment of poor Mary-Beth long before I finished my ravishment of Carlene. No stamina obviously. I was still driving hard into Carlene when the show switched back to the aftermath of Pierre's rape. He'd managed to strip Mary-Beth completely and was holding her and admiring her nude form, all very tastefully done as befitted a daytime soapie with no naughty bits showing.

The show closed and the ads started and I continued to ravish an eager Carlene. As a matter of fact, Carlene started to get even more energetic. I was puzzled for a moment and then it dawned on me. She wanted to reach her climax before the start of the next soapie. Being a natural gentleman I did my best, hammering her hard and fast.

We beat the ads, my climax helping to initiate Carlene's own climax, and she was leaning against the couch panting with relief when the theme music started for the next show.

"Before you settle into watching the next show I'd like to point out that the previous show ended with Pierre admiring Mary-Beth's naked body. You were playing her part, so if you don't mind???"

Before Carlene could protest I was already stripping of what remained of her clothes. Then I stepped back to look her over.

"Very nice," I told her, "but Mary-Beth didn't have a smirk on her face after Pierre ravished her. You need to work on that."

Carlene made a rude noise and turned to watch her soapie. Nothing interfered with that. 



Soapy Seduction



Inspired by JNJH, thank you for your input x

***** 

He had been away with work for 3 days and she had missed him.

She heard the familiar clunk of his car door, the crunch of the gravel under foot as he walked down the path and the jingle of his keys as he unlocked the front door.

She moved into the hallway to greet him and as the door swung open she burst into smile. He looked weary, his eyes were tired.

Gently she put her arms around him and pulled him close, burying her face into his chest, inhaling his familiar and comforting smell. He let his briefcase drop to the floor and encompassed her into his arms. They stood silently together for a moment, enjoying the closeness before she lifted her face to him and smiled. 

He lowered his lips to hers and they kissed, gently and softy, their lips moving together in a rhythm well practiced.

'I ran you a bath' she whispered as she took his hand and led him upstairs to the bathroom. He smiled a wide smile as they entered the room. She had run an enormous deep bath for him, full of bubbles, laid all around bathtub were candles of all shapes and sizes casting a soft sensual glow around the room.

He sat down on the edge of the bath and pulled her to him 'you do spoil me' he said, his hands gently stroking up and down her back. She bent to kiss him and began to unbutton his shirt as they enjoyed a deep kiss.

She helped him off with his clothes and watched him as he lowered himself into the bath tub. His features visibly relaxed as the warm water covered his tired limbs.

She left him relaxing in the bath as she went downstairs to clear up and turn off the lights. A while later she returned to the bathroom – he was lay back in the tub amongst the bubbles, his eyes closed, dozing. Trying not to disturb him she tiptoed around the room changing from her clothes to her robe until she heard the sound of water as he shifted in the bath. She turned to him to see him holding out his arms to her 'come here' he motioned.

She walked over to the tub and allowed her robe to drop to the floor leaving herself naked. She felt vulnerable under his gaze and took a step forward 'wait' he said. He drank in her form, open to view in the flickering candle light. He loved her body, every inch of her every mole, every scar, every bump, every wrinkle; she was a real woman, solid and yet soft in all the right places. He knew she didn't feel the same about her body, he knew all the bits she tried to hide and he didn't care. He didn't see them as flaws, they were what made her, they were part of her and he loved them all.

He helped her climb into the tub and motioned for her to sit in front of him in between his legs. She lowered herself down and leant back into his chest, feeling the hair on it rough against her back. She let out a huge sigh and closed her eyes. They lay there for several minutes enjoying the warmth of the water and the fact that they were together again.

He looked down at her body from his position behind her. Her large breasts that never failed to excite him were out of the water. He could see the freckles in her cleavage, the dark area around her nipples and the nipples themselves, small, delicate and the most beautiful pink colour. He slowly brought his hands down from the sides of the bath and cupped a breast in each hand. They were so heavy in his hands, he couldn't imagine having to walk round supporting them all day. He brushed his thumbs over her nipples until they awoke, small and hard under his touch.

He felt his cock twitch under water and wondered whether he had the energy to make love to her. He moved his fingers away from her nipples and instead lazily stroked circles around her breasts, running his fingers over and under then, watching them flush pink as he did so. She was so relaxed, the stroking of his hands, the warmth of the water and the soft lighting in the room made her very sleepy. Her breathing slowed down and he felt her totally relax as she fell into a slumber, he moved his arms around her and hugged her close, smelling the sweet smell of her hair and watching the rise and fall of her breasts with each breath.

They must have both dozed off he thought as he opened his eyes. The water was now barely warm and the bubbles had gone, he was feeling a little cold and she must have been too judging by the erectness of her nipples and the goosebumps on her arms. He tried to straighten up a little and she woke as he moved.

'Oh' she said 'the water has gone cold, did we fall asleep?' she asked. In answer he stood up and pulled her to her feet to join him. Swiftly he pulled the curtain around the bath and turned on the shower above them. She moan appreciatively as the first hot streams of water hit her skin. They stood closely together allowing themselves to warm up under the hot spray.

Bending down he picked up the soap from the side of the bath and slowly began moving it across her back, leaving a trail of bubbles as he did so. Gently he stroked it up and down her back, creating a lather. He soaped as far down as her buttocks and then up again to her shoulders, feeling how soft her skin was under his hands. She took the soap from him and began to return the favour, running her hands up and down his back, feeling his strong muscles flexing as his hands moved over her body at the same time.

She took a small step forward until they stood groins together, arms around each other. He brought his hands to the front and began soaping her breasts, they hung low, heavy and full and again he felt himself swell as he caressed them. She brought her hands around to his chest running a soapy trail through his chest hair, down his stomach and down to his...

He caught her hand in his and said 'No, my turn to spoil you'. She gave up the soap to him and he carried on moving his hands all over her body, some strokes firm, some more gentle until her whole body was tingling and clean.

The water steadily beat down on them washing away the soap, rinsing them both. He sank to his knees in the tub so that his face was level with her groin and slowly he brought his hand up to the centre of her womanhood and very gently parted her lips with his fingers. She was beautiful, her lips were the palest pink but he knew that soon they would become swollen and red with need, inviting him to taste them. His fingers opened her up to him and he leant forward and kissed her most private of parts. She shuddered with desire as he slowly dragged his tongue from the very tip of her pussy down to the bottom. He loved to do this, it was the combination of her smell, stickiness, the taste of her and the feel of her on his face. She was sweet like honey, he felt he could lick her for hours and never tire of doing so. His tongue found her clitoris and he lapped at it eagerly. He knew easily when to apply pressure with his tongue and when to do it more lightly. When to suck her clitoris directly and when to lap around it. His tongue flicked over her hard nub, increasing in speed as he felt her body start to tremble.

She looked down at him, the sight of him on his knees, with his mouth in her pussy was such a turn on. She grasped the back of his head to keep him there, throwing her head back savoring the feelings he was producing in her. He could feel her hips moving in a rhythm as old as time indicating it wouldn't be long before she reached her peak. Her lips were glistening with a mixture of her juices and his licking, the more he licked, the more she produced. He buried his face into her and penetrated her with his tongue as deep as he could - her pussy was so responsive, he could feel it throbbing with need around his tongue as he thrust it in and out of her wetness. 

Easily he slide a finger into her pussy feeling the warmth of her core and how wet she was. He slid a second and third finger inside her, and began to slide them in and out of her as his tongue continued to dance across her clitoris. He could hear her moaning above him, picked up the speed with his fingers and sucked her clitoris into his mouth. 

He loved to do this! It also helped that as he was doing this he could think being able to slide his cock all the way in to her right to the hilt and then fill her with his juices so that they mingled with hers.

Almost imperceptibly he felt the tiniest of contractions around his fingers, he knew she was close. He thrust his fingers harder and faster inside her, he wanted her to cum, to press his face right into her as she did and feel her body jerk on him, soak him with her juices. He increased the speed of his tongue across her clitoris, flicking and sucking, licking and nibbling until the movement of her pussy around his fingers was unmistakable. She came with a loud moan around his fingers, and he pressed his face into her. Her pussy grabbed at his fingers in spasm, sucking them in, gripping them almost painfully as her muscles contracted. She convulsed against his face, covering him in a sheen of her juices and he fought to drink the copious amount of liquid she produced with each spasm.

Her legs weakened as the tremors died down, she felt heavy, he looked up and smiled, he knew she'd enjoyed her orgasm and he loved pleasing her. She stroked his head and thought how natural the scene was with the shower water splashing and bouncing off his head and shoulders and around his jaw.

He stood and reached for the bath oil and unscrewed the top. Turning around she leant against the wall with her hands up in the air, as he poured the oil onto her shoulders. It ran down her back, separating as it made its course down her body. He massaged the oil into her shoulders and down her back, reaching round to caress her breasts, his hands slippery with oil. Her nipples still swollen from her orgasm responded with a full hardening. Moving his hand down her stomach to the top of her pubic hair she breathed heavily and sighed with pleasure, her sighs turned him on.

Reaching down her back again he rubbed the oil into and between her buttocks; she parted her legs wider and he caressed the oil into her legs one by one making the backs of her knees tingle sending her into sexy spasms. She wanted him now and as his hand moved up between her legs he could feel her lips full and wet. He reached up and turned off the water.

Wrapped in towels they made their way to the bedroom and sank down onto the bed still half soaked. He kissed a path down her neck, around her breasts and down the front of her legs to her feet, making her skin tingle with excitement. He rolled her over, massaging her shoulders and ribs, licking down the centre of her back to her ass, kissing the spot at the top of her buttocks on her lower back sending gushes of moisture down to her swollen lips. She teased her ass into the air a few inches off the bed, and he knew she was ready for him. Kneeling behind her, he pulled her upwards towards him and sunk his cock into her warm wetness feeling every ripple and every muscle in her canal. He began with long slow strokes enjoying the sensation of her tight, wet warmth around him. She pushed herself back hard to meet him, feeling him deep inside, incredibly deep, each thrust causing her to groan.

He reached underneath her and took a breast in one hand, the other hand he held her by the shoulders, almost as though to steer her onto him. His balls slapped against her ass with each thrust, she reached behind her to capture them in her hand and gently squeezed them.

His paced increased and she could feel him thicken and his groans deepen. It was time, he pushed in hard and held his position as he filled her. She could feel his cock throbbing as he came, and taking over from his thrusts she slid herself along his length, feeling his cum pumping into her as he gave himself up to the tightness of her pussy. 

Spent, he leaned on to her back and they fell on the bed. He was still inside her, she could feel his cock shrinking but it was nice to have him in there, hers. They held each other and drifted off to sleep.



Soapy Spanking



“Let me see the soap.”

Was it his words that ricocheted, or the slam of the front door behind me in the tile floored entry? 

“Place it on the dining room table, and then come in here to me.”

My high heels clicked on the floor as I tried both to respond quickly, and yet appear cool and in control. He was waiting for me, standing in front of his customary chair. It occurred to me at that moment that he seemed comfortable in the most severe seat in the ensemble. The more relaxing recliner or sofa did not suit. 

“Take off your jacket, and turn around.” 

Putting my hands behind me as I pirouetted in front of him seemed so natural. A casual gesture he noticed and on which he capitalized. 

“So quick you are to want these cuffs, I see.”

Cuffs, what cuffs? The shout was building in my throat, yet the nature of his words did not give me leave to speak out. The leather restrains went on effortlessly, and were quickly snapped together. I felt the leather strap buckled around my neck and then the strip connecting said collar to the wrist cuffs, securing my hands in the middle of my back. 

“Now, go in there and unwrap that bar of soap you so kindly brought over here. Think about how clean soap leaves things, and why you’re using your mouth to open it.”

Slow steps weren’t going to prevent the inevitable. The first attempts left me more completely understanding the frustration of the task. Finally, my teeth took hold on a section of wrapper large enough to shake the soap free. He heard it thud to the tabletop.

“Bring me the wrapper. In your mouth, by the way.” He thoughtfully held up the small trashcan, smiling ruefully as I let it fall from my mouth. “It’s my understanding from email this morning that you’ve earned yourself twenty for a short list of transgressions.” 

I was nodding, eyes wide open and body starting to shiver, but he didn’t seem to notice, care or pause his speech.

“Meanwhile, the last time you were here, your mouth became rather full of ugly, dirty words that ladies do not use. That will not happen this week, will it? Of course it will not. This week we’re going to clean that mouth of yours. Hopefully, for your sake, and the sake of your ass, the cleaning will last. If not, there will be an obligation to increase the treatment. With that said, let us get with it. You owe me 10 with the soap, and then we will get to the twenty prescribed. That is…unless you drop the soap in those first ten.”

He stood there and smiled. The pure flow of pleasure in his voice reinforced my inability to get out of this one. When I’d set up this little idea of discipline and personality modification, it had been a fantasy! How was I supposed to know either of them was going to take this so seriously, or enjoy it so immensely? 

None of these rushing thoughts kept my feet from the direction ordained. Before I could contemplate the decision, I was leaning over the table with my hands still behind my back, figuring out how to pick up this brand new bar of Ivory soap with my mouth. With eyes closed, I nuzzled my bottom lip under a corner and pulled it absolutely no more than necessary into the bite of my front teeth. Standing up, I held my lips away from it, and immediately felt my mouth starting to water. FUCK! Then was the sudden dawning. Even my thoughts were going to betray me to the punishment underway. My eyes were starting to tear before I made my way back in front of his austere chair.

“Let me help your grip on that.” He deftly grabbed the soap and squared it into my mouth and shoved it deep. The gag and the swallow were instant and simultaneous. My eyes spilled over in tears as he bent me over. His paddle tapped at my thighs, directing me to spread my legs. His taking aim and finding his swing took an eternity. The impact was a searing slash of heat and pain. Before I could draw breath bent over, he pulled on the collar around my neck and yanked me to a standing position. “Swallow, before the next one. Only nine more to go.” He held his hand to my throat. Bastard! I thought. He smiled as he felt me swallow that soaped saliva. How many swallows until he laughed?

By the fourth, he was holding me down to let more drool accumulate. When he finally let me up to swallow, I was a mess of tears and saliva running down my chin. “You appear to be foaming at the mouth. Six more. Bend over. STAY bent over. Until you’re told to rise and swallow.”

I tried not to focus on the whole picture, and only one at a time. Maybe I could make my breathing sound more desperate and the process would go faster. That didn’t work either, and won me extra swings of that heavy wooden paddle that didn’t count. I was sobbing by the eighth, and dreaded being able to hold onto the soap. It fell out of my mouth just after the ninth swing. The sting was too great, and the scream caused my jaws to lose the grip of the now slippery wet bar of soap. He didn’t wait for it to hit the glass coffee table before swinging that tenth time. 

“Shit.” The word barely beat the look of instant regret at its speaking. Whatever was supposed to have sunk in during those ten was about to be increased exponentially. 

His posture of amused sympathy did nothing to alleviate my fears. 

“You might as well stay right there. Things are going to go a little differently for the next twenty. Give me a moment to retrieve some additional gear.”

My leaned over posture had moisture collecting against the back of my teeth and the roof of my mouth. I wanted to let the drool fall, yet knew it would land either on the soap, or his glass countertop. Neither seemed a good choice, and the conflict of what to do seemed almost inconsequential to the terror of the unknown immediate future. What else was going to be added to this nightmare? My mind scanned an endless number of possibilities, trying to anticipate and prepare myself. 

Still, I wasn’t ready when he spread my ankles further and I felt the cuffs of the spreader bar. I couldn’t help but recognize the feel, even though I wasn’t aware of him having one. Then hit a new panic. If he had this, what else might he have? My overactive imagination hit new speed records of fear driven creativity. 

“Your husband and I reached some new conclusions in email this week. He doesn’t like your neglecting household chores, and isn’t any more fond of your cursing habit than I am. I have little hope for you that this next twenty is going to cure you, but will get things started, don’t you agree?”

He accepted my nod for an answer as he pulled me to standing and put a glass of water to my lips. “All of it, keep swallowing. Don’t want you dehydrated.”

I thought I was going to be sick before the water was gone. The only redeeming factor was the lessening of the soap taste, short lived as that turned out to be.

He picked up the soap, and shoved it back in my mouth. As much as resisting was tempting, there was no reason to make things worse on myself at this point. Tears welled up as he tied a sash around my jaw to the top of my head, and then another around the front. That soap wasn’t going anywhere. He bent me back over, steadying me with his hand on the strap holding my wrists to the collar. 

There was no break, no dialogue and no rhythm to those twenty strokes. Each seemed more ruthless than the last. Sobs and agonized breathing seemed to escalate the severity. I lost count. My mind was numb, my ass on fire. I felt adrift in the pain and broken humility at the soapy drool collecting in my bound mouth. 

He urged me to my knees, my ankles still spread outside the bar. Hands pushed at the bonds of cloth, though it all looked hazy and cloudy to me through crying eyes. The soap slipped to the floor in an almost forgotten manner.  His hand went to the back of my head and pulled me towards his crotch. 

“Unzip it. Say thank you like your husband wants to hear that you did.”

His cock sprang free in my face, and there was no alternative to taking it in my throat. He pushed that soap taste to the back of my throat as he started fucking my mouth. There was no sympathy for my gagging. His thrusts penetrated deeper and deeper. Tears streamed down my face as his cock plunged repeatedly into the depths of my throat. I sought to stroke him with my tongue, to respond and contain this invasion. It drove him to maddening velocity before he finally burst his seed while buried to the balls. 

“You’re welcome.” 

I nodded with a puffy, used face as he unfastened the spreader bar and released my hands. He sent me home with the soap taste lingering, and the sting of reminders fresh on my backside. Driving, the parting words of my husband exploded with new meaning. We’d been discussing how our parents reacted to trouble at school.

I swear he’d laughed when he said it, “My dad believed in giving double at home.”



Soapy Wet



This valley is hidden away, secluded from the concerns of present day life. I hike into it anytime I need to recharge my batteries, to escape the noise and the harried rush of the city, and this past week seemed to drag on forever, long and hard. I need the peace and tranquility of my valley; a serene weekend alone with absolutely nothing to worry about. Looking down from the crest of the trail, I can see the valley spread out before me, a deep emerald, cut in between two black mountains . Towering pine trees stand guard ringing the valley, majestic soldiers of the mountains, stoic and tall. In the distance I can make out the delicate aspens swaying to the music of the wind as they follow the bank of the seething river cutting it's way across the valley floor. Picking up my pack, I start down the trail. 

It has been a long hot trek, but it felt good; I feel strong and quickly descend into lush green valley below. I want to set up camp as soon as possible, then hit my favorite swimming hole to remove the salty sweat and grim from my body. Life is good, it doesn't get much better than this.

Putting up the tent, collecting firewood, setting up the fire ring is done quickly; I know my way around this place like the back of my hand. With the chores behind me, I walk down the slope towards the river, my soap container in hand until I reach the swimming hole; a place where the river comes around a bend, slows to a crawl, and pools gently beneath a huge boulder bordering one side and a small sandy beach on the other. With the afternoon heat beating down on my body the water looks very inviting. 

Pulling my hat off, my blond hair escapes confinement to cascade down my back, my boots and socks are tossed next. I pull my t-shirt over my head, unhook my bra, freeing my ample breasts, and man does that feel good to set them loose. I run my hands over my nipples feeling them harden beneath my fingers. I reach down to unbutton my jeans, sliding them over my hips to the sand, my white lace panties following. I stretch my arms up, arching my back in pure enjoyment. I can feel the sun heating my body, the hot grainy texture of the sand between my toes, a slight breeze kissing the tops of my nipples and I savor each feeling with relish. 

I'm not one of those people who slowly wades into the water, trying to get used to the temperature, not me; I take off at a run and dive head first into the crystal clear blue water, scattering the trout before me like silver bullets. Oh my gosh, this is a close to heaven on earth, I am sure. I float on my back, letting my golden hair spread out around my face, my rose bud nipples protruding and hard. Looking up, I can see an eagle soaring into the heights until the blue sky swallows it up, leaving only a tiny spec to view. Then I catch a movement out of the corner of my eye, and echoing the course of my horrible week, I realize I am not alone in my valley. 

I stop floating and try to hide my body by swimming into the deepest part of the pool. Sure enough, standing on the river bank is a tall muscular man. He has brown hair, neatly trimmed beard, wide shoulders with strong arms; his hungry gaze follows me in the water.

Dang it, this body of mine. I can see his erection pushing out of his blue jeans and my body responds immediately with a rush of glowing heat. I can picture his strong arms wrapped around my tender body pulling me close, my breasts pressing against his hard chest, and his lips kissing mine. The image in my head is powerful, hypnotic; and without thinking I find myself swimming slowly toward the riverbank until my feet touch the gravely bottom. My nipples are hard and I feel the lips of my pussy begin to throb as I walk to the shore, the water falls from my body; running down my breasts and over my shaved mound. 

He removes his clothes slowly and deliberately while I walk towards him, never taking his eyes off my body. I feel my breath catch and then quicken at the sight of his hard dick. Reaching down he pauses to pick up my soap container, then wades into the water until he is standing inches from my body. 

My breathing is ragged as we stare at one another, not one word is spoken. Dropping the container to float in the water, he gently slips one hand behind my back, and lowers me into the water, at the same time surrounding my nipple with his lips, sucking and teasing first one and then the other. I react instinctively, arching my back, pushing my breasts against his mouth and moaning in sheer delight at the sensations his lips create over my body. Standing me back up he grabs the soap container and begins to wash my body, starting with my back. 

He massages the soap on my back, taking care to reach down and spread my butt checks, his fingers slide lower finding the outer lips of my wet pussy; he cleans and explores every inch of me. Then he turns me around and pulls my back against his chest. I can feel his cock pressing against my soapy back, sliding back and forth as he massages the soap across the front of my body. When his large hands reach my nipples, I moan, grinding my ass into his dick, my head thrown back he nibbles down the side of my neck. 

Reaching behind me I stroke the head of his cock, running my finger gently over his pre-cum. His hand make lazy circles across the front of my body, over my breasts, squeezing them before exploring the sensitve underside; then moving down to my crotch. He parts my legs to run his fingers lightly over my clit, my juices run down his hands and my muscle tighten. I lean into his hand, letting he touch and rub me until I am about to cum.

Panting, I pull away from him, I pick up the soap container and begin to wash his body. My hands stroke across his chest, down his arms until I reach his hands, making sure to lean my full breasts into his chest every chance I get. I continue cleaning him, gently soaping his hard shaft, reaching under his balls, and running my hand caressingly between his ass checks. His eyes watch every movement I make. I clean his legs and inner thighs, then come back up to stroke his dick, up and down. 

Suddenly he grabs me and takes me into deeper water, rinsing both of our bodies off. His lips crush mine, his tongue darts in teasingly asking me to join him. Responding, I melt against him, moaning into the kiss while my fingers dig into his strong arms. I almost cum when he moves his thigh between my legs. I grind my hips in response almost crying in my need for him to take me.

Easily he picks me up, I wrap my legs around his waist and our lips meet again. He ravages my lips, now swollen and tender under his assault. Then kissing me deeply, he plunges his hard cock into my wet pussy. I throw back my head as he moves my hips up and down over his hard cock. He can feel my wetness and my tight pussy as his dick slides in and out of me, over and over again. My breasts bounce up and down as he fucks me harder and harder, like animals, rough, with a deep urgency in both of us. His cock slams into me, his body rubs against my clit until the intensity builds; I can't take it any longer and I scream as I cum. That is all it takes to send him over the edge, his head goes back, his neck muscles tighten and he shoots his hot cum deep inside of me in pulse after pulse.

Our breathing slows, I slip my legs from around his body and he lowers me down to stand in the water. He kisses me deeply and without a word turns to wade to the shore. I watch him stop to put on his jeans and boots, then he disappears quietly into the shadows of the forest, shirt in hand, not looking back.