5 comments/ 59292 views/ 48 favorites Room 42 By: Storm62 I doubt very much Emma Watson is anything like this, but I can dream. (Maybe I should get a night job?) Please remember THIS IS NOT REAL! --- The strangest and most wonderful things can happen when you least expect them. Due to a financial shortfall I had had to take a second, part-time job as a night clerk at a local hotel. It was only two nights a week, but the extra money was helpful. There was a bit of excitement around the town at the time as there was a film crew making a movie nearby. It meant that there were a few road closures around the town every so often, impacting on my main job, but other than that I didn't really notice much happening: I didn't even know the name of the film they were making, let alone who was in it. One Saturday night after they had been shooting for a week or so I received a call down to the front desk I was manning, asking about the possibility of getting a sandwich sent up. I had to tell the lady that I was sorry but the kitchen had closed at midnight, when I came on duty half an hour ago. "I had an idea it might be," a somehow familiar voice said, "but I thought it might be worth asking." She sighed. "Sorry for disturbing you." "That's all right madam, it was nice to have someone to talk to for a short time." I said. At that moment I had a thought. "Actually, if you don't mind it looking a bit scrappy I could nip down to the kitchen and maybe make you a cheese and tomato sandwich." "Could you? I'm having trouble getting to sleep and thought a bite to eat might help." "In that case I may be able to rustle up some drinking chocolate too." "That would be lovely, thank you. I'm in room forty-two." "I should be about twenty minutes." --- It actually took me nearer half an hour, mainly because I couldn't find a fresh enough tomato at first. I knocked softly at the door of room forty-two, a small tray balanced on one hand, wondering if maybe the lady had fallen asleep after all. After a second or two the door opened. I nearly dropped the tray in surprise at who I saw. It was Emma fucking Watson! She wore a short silken robe loosely tied over a shorter silk negligee. I couldn't stop myself from exclaiming. "Good god almighty! You're Emma Watson!" (I managed to miss out the expletive.) "I know I am." She grinned despite probably hearing that all the time. "Come in, before you drop that." She said, taking the wobbling tray with the drink and the sandwich from me. "I'm not sure I should." I said dubiously. "Why ever not? Don't you trust me?" She laughed. "It's me I don't trust. And I'm not supposed to leave the desk for too long." I explained. "And why don't you trust yourself?" She teased. "Are you kidding? You're Emma Watson, lusted after by millions!" "I thought hotel staff were above noticing things like that." She teased again. "Maybe the full-timers are, I only do Friday and Saturday nights, and I'm pretty new at it too." "Oh go on. Come in and talk to me while I eat the sandwich you went out of your way to make for me." I wavered uncertainly. "What's your name anyway?" She asked. "Dave." I told her. "Well Dave, please come in and talk to me for a while." She gave me such a sweet smile, but with her hazel eyes sparkling with mischief. 'What the hell?' I thought, 'It'd be worth the risk of getting the sack'. So I followed her into the room, sitting in a vacant chair as Emma sipped her chocolate and took a nibble from her sandwich. "So, I didn't realise we had the much-talked-about film crew here at the hotel." I said, mainly for something to say. "You don't," she said, "only me. Everyone else was having a party tonight, but I wanted to be alone, to try and get some sleep," she smiled ironically, "so they moved me in here, at least for a few days." She took another sip from her drink, this time leaving a foamy brown moustache on her upper lip. "I might stay longer though, it's nice here." I was struggling not to laugh and failed. "What is it?" Emma asked suspiciously. "You appear to have acquired a moustache." I gasped out between laughs. Emma went a little red and dabbed away the foam with the tray napkin. "Omigod, what must you think?" She said, clearly embarrassed by something so silly. "If you must know, I'm thinking that film stars appear to be human too." "You're very kind." "And you, Miss Watson, are very pretty, even with a moustache." She blushed a little more and then smiled at me; at me! I still couldn't believe this and things were about to get more unbelievable. Emma looked at me thoughtfully. "Are you going to be doing anything in particular tomorrow?" She asked, still nibbling at the sandwich. "Well, I intend to get some sleep when I get home in the morning." "What about in the afternoon?" "I've nothing planned." I shrugged. "Good. I was wondering if you'd be interested in going for a picnic." She blushed again, possibly thinking she was being pushy. "With you? I'd love to." I said. "Good." She said again. "I'll provide the food if you provide the location." "Okay." "Pick me up about two?" "Whatever you want Miss Watson." "I think you can call me Emma." She gave a relieved grin and then had to stifle a yawn. "That drink appears to be starting to work." "Then I'll leave." I said, getting up. "See you tomorrow afternoon Miss....." She held up her hand. "Sorry, Emma." I grinned. --- If I hadn't been so tired I doubt I'd have got any sleep at all. As it was I lay awake for over an hour; worrying about what I could talk to Emma Watson about; about whether she'd mind travelling in my old car; and mostly about where to take her for a picnic. Now I'd woken up and I was still worrying, but now about whether I'd imagined the whole thing. By one o'clock I'd had enough and I called the hotel and asked to be put through to room forty-two. I had been prepared to lose my job just for talking with Emma and now I was equally prepared to lose it if she thought I was harassing her. The phone had barely rung twice before it was answered. "Hello?" Came Emma's cheerful voice. "Hello Miss Watson. It's me, Dave, from last night?" "Hi Dave! I thought I asked you to call me Emma? What's up?" "W-well," I stuttered, "t-to be honest, I thought I had to be d-dreaming last night." I heard her laugh. "Why on earth would you think that?" "Because stuff like that just doesn't happen to the likes of me. I mean, who would believe me if I told them a famous film star had asked me on a picnic?" "I see what you mean. You are still coming to pick me up aren't you?" "Now that I know I'm not delusional, yes." "Good. I've just organised a hamper. Will I need to get a blanket?" "Don't worry Miss....Emma, I'll bring everything else. See you soon." "In a while." I put the phone down, smiling to myself. Then the enormity of it hit me again; I was escorting Emma Watson on a picnic for god's sake. I'd better get organised and bloody quick. --- The weather that Sunday afternoon was perfect for a picnic. In the end I decided to take Emma to the top of Hangman's Hill. We had sat and munched on our sandwiches and looked out at the view, making idle chit-chat. Her easy going attitude led me to nearly forget who I was with. As we were packing up the picnic gear I asked her if she was doing as research for her current role, telling her I didn't mind if it was. She had laughed and said no, it was more like auditioning for real life. We arrived back at the hotel and I helped Emma get the empty hamper out of my car, and then she asked me if I could come to her room that evening. "I'm not sure; I've got to go to work tomorrow, my proper job, the one I can't lose." I replied honestly. "Well could you call in sick if we run late?" She asked. For some reason she wanted me there that evening. "I could I suppose. They'd be surprised but wouldn't question it; I take so few sick days." "That's settled then. Come up around seven." "Will I need a suit?" I asked, thinking she wanted to go out somewhere and needed an escort. "No, just wear something old and comfortable." Emma gave me a wicked grin, making me wonder exactly what she did have planned. --- I arrived at the hotel just before seven o'clock and made my way up the backstairs to room forty-two. After a little head scratching I'd decided to wear my old 501's and a polo shirt. Not knowing what Miss Watson was thinking of I thought that this covered most eventualities. As I knocked on the door it was almost precisely seven. Emma opened the door looking a little surprised. "You're earlier than I expected." She said. "You did say seven, and I'm afraid I'm one of those people who always turn up at whatever time they're told." I said apologetically. "It wasn't an accusation; I just meant I wasn't ready. I was going to surprise you." "Surprise me?" "Yes. Look, come in, sit down, and I'll get ready." With that she disappeared into the bathroom. Puzzled, I sat down to wait. "What am I doing here Miss Watson?" I called out. "Emma!" She reminded me again. "And I want to try a little role play." A whole variety of slightly perverse thoughts crashed into my brain; closely followed by a reminder that she was an actress and she probably meant that she wanted to rehearse something. "What's my role then?" I asked. "You are the hotel guest, and I'm the maid who has come to your room." Came the muffled reply. 'Maid?' I thought to myself, but instead of saying anything I asked another question. "Okay, where are my lines?" "There aren't any. You just react as if it was for real." "But not as if you're Emma Watson?" "You got it." "Okay, I think I can do that. Is this some sort of preparation for the film?" "Nope, this entirely a personal thing." Her answer confused me. I was even more confused when Emma came out of the bathroom. She wasn't wearing one of the dull non-descript uniforms like our hotel maids wore: She was wearing a full-on, every mans fantasy, porno version of a French maid's uniform. Short, black dress, frilly white knickers peeking out from beneath, black stockings, ridiculous high heels, tiny apron and funny hat thing. Emma waited patiently until I had regained the power of speech. "Sorry." I said. "I just wasn't expecting....well, the outfit." "Great isn't it." She grinned. "I've been wanting to get a man's opinion." "I think it looks awesome on you, but I wouldn't wear it outside if I were you." "I wasn't intending to." She smirked. "Ready to start now?" I pulled myself together and nodded. "You called sir?" Maid Emma asked demurely. "Er, yes Emma." I racked my brain for something for her to do. "Er, could you get me a glass of water please my dear?" That sounded a bit silly to me, but I wasn't sure what people with maids asked for. "Certainly sir." Emma said, dropping a curtsey. I smiled at the cuteness of it. She picked up a glass from the night stand and the small tray it had been stood on, opened a bottle of mineral water and poured some of it into the glass. As she turned and brought the glass on the tray towards me I noticed a un-maid-like smirk playing across her features. Emma got closer to me and then 'accidentally' tilted the tray a little and the glass toppled forward into my lap, soaking my crotch. "Oh, I'm so sorry sir. I don't know how that happened." She lied, swiftly picking up the cloth that had covered the night stand and dabbing at the wet patch. My dick had already become stiff at the sight of her in the uniform, now with her almost caressing it through the material of my 501's it was as hard as a rock. I panicked at the thought of Emma seeing my arousal and tried to push her hands away. "Emma, this is going too far." I blurted out. "Nonsense!" She replied, slapping my hands away. "This is exactly the honest response I wanted." "It is?" I was confused again. "Yes, now get back into character." 'What would a guest do in a situation like this?' I wondered. Then I had an idea; a naughty idea that might give me an indication of how far Emma would go with this. "You are a very clumsy maid Emma," I said sternly, "I think you had better remove my wet clothes and get them dry." "Yes sir." She said, removing my jeans. "Sir your underwear is damp too." "I believe I told you what to do." "You did sir." She replied and to my surprise tugged my boxers down as well. My erect cock sprang free, almost hitting her in the face. Emma had already gone further than I thought she would, but I was absolutely astonished when she took a lick at my knob-end. Emma fucking Watson was licking my fucking knob! She gazed up into my face, her hazel eyes shining in either laughter or excitement. "You....you don't have to do that you know?" I managed to say. She stopped her licking for a moment and smiled. "You're not going to pretend you don't like it are you?" "No, but I never expected you to go this far Miss Watson." "Emma. Why not? And I intend to go a lot farther too." She gave me the impish grin. "That was the whole idea of getting you here." She slowly ran her tongue along the underside of my dick and I groaned. "Tell me you don't want to fuck me and I'll stop." I groaned again. "Miss Watson, Emma, I've wanted to fuck you for the past six or seven years." She licked me again. "Oh you naughty man; I was underage then." "But not now." I said, giving in and slipping my rampant cock between Emma's luscious lips. Momentarily taken by surprise she gagged a little, but then recovered and swallowed my entire shaft. Maybe not an impressive feat; I'm not built like John Holmes; but impressive enough, especially when she looked up at me with her nose in my pubic hair and my balls on her chin, lust now in her shining eyes. Oh so slowly she drew her head back, revealing my prick now moist with her saliva. She teased my knob with her tongue for a moment before engulfing my shaft once again. Her head bobbed up and down my length for a while, pausing every so often to lick at my helmet, her hands on my hips. It didn't take too much of this delicious treatment before I could feel a climax building. "Emma, I'm gonna cum." I gasped out, trying to hold off the inevitable. She just glanced up, devilment in her pretty eyes, and carried on deep-throating me. "Emma, if you don't stop I'm gonna cum in your mouth!" I tried again. I was close now, but she kept going. Suddenly I felt her finger running from my ass hole to my balls and I couldn't contain myself any longer. With an ecstatic grunt I came, firing shot after shot of my spunk into her waiting maw. I subsided back into the chair as Emma drained the last drops from me, struggling to come to terms with the fact that I'd just been blown by Emma Watson! Emma herself sat back on her heels, a satisfied grin playing across her cum-covered lips. Her tongue flicked out, licking them clean. "How long until you can go again?" She purred. "Not sure." I panted. "Need to get my breath." "Well lie on the bed and we'll find out shall we?" As I moved to the bed Emma had stood up and was looking down at me, the gleam of excitement still in her eyes. "I think it's time for you to introduce your tongue to my pussy." She grinned, delicately slipping her panties off to reveal a beautiful shaved cunt. "After such an incredible blowjob how can I refuse?" I grinned back. Emma sat on my chest and then straddled my face, lifting the hem of her uniform to give me a close-up view of the object of many a jack-off fantasy, her shaven haven. My hands rested on her hips and I stuck out my tongue, tasting the sweet nectar already flowing from her slit. Emma gave a murmur of appreciation as I lapped at her juicy pussy with long strokes, each one ending each one with a circling of her pleasure button. I moved my hands to rest on her pert buttocks as Emma began to rock herself on my tongue, cooing as it probed the inner recesses of her cunt. She squeaked in surprise as my forefinger brushed her ass hole. "Em?" I questioned. "Carry on please." She whispered. With that permission I slipped the finger into her rear entrance producing a moan of pure pleasure from her. 'I'm definitely going to investigate THAT response if I get half a chance.' I thought. Emma began to breathe in shorter and shorter pants as my tongue continued to work at inducing an orgasm. With an ecstatic cry Emma came, her ass clamping tight around my finger and her pussy gushing onto my tongue. She dropped forward onto her hands, her dress falling free to cover my face. She rolled off me and lay panting after her climax. I got up onto one side and looked down at her. On an impulse long coming I leant over here and kissed her. Emma opened her eyes and smiled up at me. "I can taste myself on your lips." She giggled. "It's a nice taste." I responded, licking my lips. "Ready to go again then, huh?" She asked. "How can you tell?" I replied. "Your dick is poking into the top of my thigh." She laughed. I looked down and saw what she meant. I gave her another kiss and at the same time rested a hand on one of her breasts. I could feel the small but perfectly formed soft fleshy mound rising and falling as she breathed. As I began to massage her tit through the material she cooed in pleasure again. "That feels nice." She said. "Just what I was thinking." I grinned. I sat up a little more and put my spare hand on Emma's other breast. "Mmmm, that feels so good." She muttered softly, arching her back, pushing her tits towards me. "Can...can I touch them naked?" I asked quietly. "You just made me cum with only your tongue and you're ASKING to play with my naked bosom!" She burst out laughing. With a quick jerk she pulled down the top of her outfit, revealing the pink rosebuds of her nipples sitting perkily atop her sweet little titties. "There you are; fondle away. She giggled. I cupped each naked breast and licked at the nipples in turn. Both were already erect but seemed to get even harder under my touch. I suckled on her right teat, massaging the left one at the same time. Emma arched her back again, trying to get her tit further into my mouth. By now I was feeling pretty emboldened so I dropped my left hand to Emma's pussy. She was really wet down there and I had no problem sliding three fingers into her slit. "No!" She groaned. "Not your fingers; your cock. Stick your cock in me!" I won't pretend I wasn't overjoyed to hear those words; I'd whacked off to fake pictures of Emma Watson being fucked ever since she became of age. And now she was asking, no, begging me to stuff my dick into her cunt! Sure I'd never get the chance again I positioned myself between her spread legs, rucking the uniform up out of the way. Wanting to be certain she knew what she was doing, I paused with my cockhead up against the lips of her pussy. "You are okay with this Emma?" I asked tentatively. "Yes, goddammit!" She practically screamed. "Stop fucking teasing and stick your meaty prick into my hot pussy." That was all I needed to hear. I thrust my hips forward and sank all the way into her sweet snatch. Emma gave a low groan of satisfaction and then began to grunt every time I plunged into her. The grunts came closer together as I quickened my pace. Emma wrapped her legs around my waist, crossing her ankles to hold me close. Her eyes were closed but her hands were running over her breasts, pinching and teasing her own nipples. Her cunt clenched and unclenched with each of my strokes, taking me nearer to what was going to be a huge orgasm for me. My balls tightened and I knew I was close. "I'm gonna cum Em!" I cried out again. "Hold on! I'm close too!" She gasped. "Can't!!" I said as I fired off, filling her love channel with my seed. Room 420 He and she stands in the hallway of the Indian casino in front of the room numbered 420. He hesitates as he reaches for the key. "Are you ready?" He asks. "Gawd yes!" She sighs emphatically, then sheepishly and in a low tone so no one near would overhear her and adds "Master." Quickly he slides the key card through the slot and opens the door as the fantasy begins in earnest. The hotel room is no flee bag bit, it is elegant and equipped with a full size bar and kitchenette with living space, office space with a desk, bedroom space with a king size bed and fainting couch, and a luxurious bathroom complete with hot tub and of course a shower and toilet. The baggage, what little there was of it was placed on the bed. She stood at the foot of the bed, eyes downward, and awaited her instructions. He rummaged through the luggage until he found what he was looking for and then laid it out onto the bed to be put on at a later time. He then latched the cases and set them into the closet. He walks to the foot of the bed and turns her toward him and starts to unbutton her blouse. She does not move. He pushes the blouse over her shoulders and lets it drop to the floor and then reaches to unlatch her bra kissing her neck lightly as he does so. Then he pulls the bra toward him and lets it fall to the floor as well. The cool air in the room and the light kiss on her neck caused enough of a reaction that her nipples stood erect and perky on her firm breasts. He liked this. He pulled her skirt and panties down at the same time and he followed them down with his body so that he could smell her as he knelt. He then instructed her to step out of the ring of clothes and remove her shoes and go take a shower. She dutifully removed her stilettos and went to the bathroom and began her shower as he watched her through the glass door. Her long dark hair cascaded over her shoulders and breasts as the water poured over her and as he watched, his manhood began to stiffen. He liked to watch her when she wasn't aware of it. It wasn't just the fact that she was naked either; he liked having the power of watching. It was hard to explain, but he still liked it. He didn't want to lose his load now…he wanted to save that for later, when the game got underway on a more serious level, so he went about the task of setting up the toys and gadgets about the rooms of the hotel while she finished showering. When the shower stopped, he was there waiting for her with a towel and he towel dried her from top to bottom and then hung the towel on the shower, took her by the hand and led her to the dressing table in the bedroom and brushed her hair until it was dry and shone like the feathers of a raven. She didn't dare look at her reflection in the mirror, which was only for Him to see, only the Master could look upon her nakedness, and his. She only did what she was told to do. Those were the rules that had been set up the very first time she was taken here and she had committed them all to memory. She loved her role as the sub. Watching her in the mirror as he combed her hair he caught a slight glimpse of a smile on her lips and he knew that she was enjoying herself immensely, but she would never break out of her role to say so, so he did not comment on it. But he also glimpsed her nipples in the mirror, and they were standing straight out and he longed to pinch them, but again, he didn't want to get carried away too soon. The script had already been written in his head and he was going to stick to it…no alterations! He pulled her hair back into a pony tail at the base of her neck so that it wouldn't interfere with his plans and fastened it there. He then went to the bed and picked up the items for her to wear and took them to her and told her to dress. First he handed her the black knee pads and told her to put them on, but to stay seated. Then he handed her a black leather bra with clips that allowed the breast to swing free when unclipped, not unlike a breast feeding bra, and told her to put it on with the flaps closed, he was in no mood to see her sagging useless tits at this moment. He noticed that her nipples became even more erect as he degraded her verbally and he almost lost his will power and took her right then and there, but he knew better. He knew that she would never respect his authority as Master again if he did, so he then pulled the leather hood down over her head and zipped the back closed. Unzipped the mouth and nose and eye areas and then stood her up and led her to the living area of the hotel. Master disappears into the kitchenette and it is hard to see well with this mask on…I wonder if he has ever used it before…the smell of the leather is intoxicating. I wonder what he has in store…he never tells me of his plans, just that I am the sub and he the master and the key word is Marquee de Sade if I decide I want to quit in the middle of things, all I need to do is call out THE NAME. 3 years I and he have been doing this, sometimes 4 times a year, not once have I quit on him in the middle. I love this role, I love the master and the humiliation that he bestows upon me, and I am wet with anticipation. "Look at me; he bellows as he enters the room, "I have something for you." Slowly I raise my eyes to his, but I do not raise my head. He is carrying a potato peeler and it looks like a root. My blood begins to pump faster and I am unsure as to what he wants of me. "This my little fuck slut, is a ginger root and this is a potato peeler, and I should give you a good reaming with this root for enticing me the way you do, but alas, that is not what it is for. Well, not exactly any way. What I am going to do is peel this root just a bit and then I am going to insert it into your anus. Not far or hard but far enough that you should be able to hold it there until I get back. Understood? You may speak." "Yes Master" "Now get down on your knees in front of the sofa and bend over while I ready the root." She does not argue, but bends over the seat of the sofa and waits. Master readies the root and trades the peeler for the standard cuffs. He lays his toys upon the table and takes her hands and places them one on top the other in the small of her back where he locks the cuffs around her wrists. He then takes the root in his right hand and spreads her ass cheeks with the left and inhales the aroma of her. He doesn't want to hurt her too badly, so he leans in and licks her asshole with his tongue and then quickly while she is still expecting the warm soft flickering of his tongue, he inserts the root about 1 inch into her anus and she pulls away and yelps. She doesn't go far, the sofa keeps her near and the master's hand is steady. "Now, you will keep this in your ass until I return, or there will be hell to pay, Slut. Now stand up and go to the corner and stay there!" And as a last minute thought, he walks to her and reaches around her and tweaks her titties squeezing hard through the leather until she moans, and then he releases her and zips the opening to her eyes and mouth shut, leaving just the nose hole for her to breathe from as he turns and leaves the room. The room was quiet, too quiet; all she could hear was the sound of her own breathing and the occasional clink of the handcuffs as she repositioned her hands. The thin finger of ginger in her ass was very exciting, she had never had anal sex before and this was…well, it was different. The whole thing was different, not at all like the last several escapades that they had been on…this one had a darker seed about it…and she was very turned on by it. The excitement, the drive, the threat of hell to pay if she lost the ginger, she was about to climax at the thought. She wanted her master to humiliate her, but where was he? It was unusual for him to leave in the middle of something. It was too quiet and she was thinking too much. She was soooo horny, she didn't want to wait. She arched her back and reached for the finger of ginger and caught it with just two fingers of her right hand and the movement inside her made her even hotter than before. She began to gyrate her hips, letting the ginger hit her fingers every rotation. Soon she began to moan and work up a sweat, she was going to come and she knew it. Then she heard laughter in the hallway, it was Master! Trying to stand up straight and hide her indiscretions she let the finger of ginger slide out of her anus and it thudded softly on the carpet as the door swung inward. She couldn't see what was happening, only hear Master talking and laughing with other men. OMG! Other men…other men were in the hotel room!? Looking at her! She didn't know what to do, so she did what the master had instructed her to do. She waited for his command and listened. From the sounds of things, there were three men besides Master and they didn't seem to notice her at all. One of them sounded like he was very drunk. Drunks repulsed her, like fat people, she seen them as having little or no will power; she simply had no use for them. "Gentlemen? If you would please, step over here and I will introduce you to tonight's entertainment." The usual whistles and guffaws went round about and then all was quiet…again…too quiet and she knew that he had noticed the finger of ginger was no longer where it should have been. She feels him step up behind her and he places his left hand on her leather covered tit and the other on the leather covering her neck and chin and pulls her head back until it rests on his shoulder. She can feel him breathing quite heavily and she knows that he is angered for making him look like a fool in front of his new friends. And as he told her before he left, she knew that there was going to be hell to pay, and she was definitely going to enjoy every minute of it. Softly so that only she could hear, he whispered in her ear, "I have brought you three new friends to play with Slut, I think you will like them tremendously, a drunk, a fat man, and someone who looks to be about the age of your grandfather, although I doubt that he is that old if he can still sustain a woody." And at the sound of the words coming out of his mouth, she almost cried out THE NAME, but in the end, did not. Aloud he proclaims, "You are a worthless slave and you have shamed me in the presence of my guests, you have let the finger of ginger slip out of the hole in your ass. That was the only thing that I have asked you to do today and you couldn't even get that right. You will be punished and it will be done in the presence of my guests, do you understand me slut?" She tried to speak, but the leather and the zipper of the mask kept her words from being audible and the hand still closed around her throat kept her in suspense of the next action that he may put upon her. Violently he spun her around and unzipped the mouth on the mask and demanded that she repeat herself. "Yes Master" was all she uttered. Gently he unzipped her eye slots and gave her a minute to adjust to the light of the room. He then shoved her down onto her knee pads, unlocked her cuffs and put them in his jacket pocket and told her to pick up the finger of ginger and dispose of it in the bathroom, where by the way, she would find a new enema filled with room temperature soap and water and she was to bring it back for part of her punishment. Without daring to look at the other men in the room or the master, she picked up the ginger and went straight to the bathroom to do as she was told. On the way she could smell cheep liquors, cheep cologne and thought she was going to be sick with the disgusting things her imagination was showing her. She returns quickly and stands with her head down reaching out to hand the master what he had asked for, he tells her to assume the position and to make sure her ass was facing his guests; she did not deserve the privilege of facing them. Once she is on all fours facing away from the strangers and her master she hears him as he degrades her, "The slut here thinks she can get away with dropping my finger of ginger because she is pretty, but she is about to find out that beauty has nothing to do with looks, it has to do with obedience and if she is not obedient, then she is nothing more than a mere street slut!" And with the last word he plunged the fleet enema into her unsuspecting anus and began to empty it inside her. "Oh Gawd!" she moaned as the last of the fleet filled her up, but what she said exactly was lost on the guests, they were too taken with her backside to worry about what her front was saying. And as the last drop of fluids was squeezed into her he pulled it out and slapped her bottom hard enough to leave it red as hot coals and she again tried to say something, but was lost on them. "Don't lose what I have given you this time or else the consequences will be more severe than you can imagine. Do you understand?" Trying desperately not to lose even a drop, she gritted her teeth and nodded her hooded head. He got down on his knees behind her and rubbed the front of his pants on her upturned ass and then leaned forward and grabbed the hair showing beneath her hood and pulled it toward him as he growled into her covered ear, "Do you hear me Slut!" "Yes! Yes, I hear you." She uttered. "Good, then go relieve yourself in the bathroom while I fix my guests some drinks, and don't come back until you are good and clean, I don't want you embarrassing me any more than you already have. GO!" With that last word, she stood and nearly sprinted to the toilet fearing she would not make it, he had never made her hold so much or wait so long before and she could hardly wait to see how the night progressed, but then again neither could he or his guests. When she returns to the room he instructs her to go to the bedroom where the rest of the evening will be finished out. Upon entering she notices that all the men are naked, not because she looked up, but because she had to step over their clothing as her master shoved her toward the foot of the bed. "Get down on your knees, Slut." Through the heavy leather she is not sure of what she heard and hesitates too long for her masters patients. "You wish to defy me in the presence of guests! I'll teach you!" he screams at her as he grabs her by the ring on the throat of the hood. "Go get the wooden cane, NOW, SLUT!" "Please Master, not the cane, I will be better, I promise. I will do everything you tell me to do, but please not the cane!" "You are only making matters worse for yourself, you worthless piece of pussy! Now go and get the cane." Almost crying she turns to the closet and retrieves the wooden cane used for beatings. He takes the cane and lays it on the foot of the bed and then handcuffs her hands to the posts, one on each post and facing the bed. He then slides the large ottoman up under her lower tummy and pelvic area, so that her butt is raised sufficiently for the whipping. "You are going to get 29 strokes for being such a bad submissive, do you understand? No whining, just yes or no." "Yes Master" And before the words were out of her mouth, the first blow met soundly across her bottom and she cried out in pain and pleasure. The master reaches out and touches the welt and then licks his hand and caresses the fluids into her red bottom and she relaxes just enough to satisfy him and then without warning he moves his hand and delivers 6 more blows across her fanny, each one producing a yelp and stripe. She begs and cries and pleads with him to stop, but he is enjoying the sluts' cries way too much to stop now. By the time the 13th blow falls across her near bleeding ass cheeks, she has quit screaming and is biting down on the bed railing through the leather mask and is whimpering like a beaten puppy. He likes this immensely and whacks her 2 more times out of excitement. The master realizes that his guests are hard as a rock and finding it hard not to jack themselves and he too is going to explode if the beating continues, so he stops and devises a plan. He unlocks one of her hands and turns her around. She is weary with the beating and her sweat smells like fear and he can hardly contain himself. He puts both of her hands behind her back and locks them to the bedpost and tells her to make herself comfortable on her knees. "Would you like for the beating to stop?" She dared not try to speak, and she dared not look up, so she nodded and waited for his reply. "I will stop the beating, but only if you agree to be our suck slave. Now before you answer, let me tell you what a low life piece of crap Suck Slave does. A suck slave uses her mouth in any fashion the master, or in this case the master and his guests, sees fit, to get us off, but lets make it interesting shall we?... What say I only give you 7 minutes per person to do the job, and then if you do, no more beating, but if you don't, the beating will continue. Understood?" The pain in her ass was fierce and she was sure that she was bleeding, anything would be better than continuing with that, even if she had to put there filthy members in her mouth. Slowly she nodded her consent and the guests and the master was happy, they would finally get some action to ease the throbbing in their loins. To make things worse, he leaves the eye holes unzipped so she can tell which one is which and then in big red letters with a marker, he writes the words SUCK SLUT across her chest above the bra. The first man is the drunk man and as he steps up to her, the master sets the timer. She cannot even back away if she wanted to; the bed was holding her there in place. He takes his member in his hands and starts to rub it across the words on her chest as he unzips the zipper across her mouth. She sees that he is smaller than the master and uncircumcised she has never been with some one that wasn't cut. Once the zipper freed her mouth, he stepped closer and stuck his balls to her lips, one hand on his member and the other holding her head right where he wanted it. Slowly she opened her mouth and began to lick his balls. They were salty and sweaty and the smell was that of a working man after a hard day. He kept jacking himself as he rubbed his balls harder and harder into her tongue and lips. It didn't take long before he was shooting his load onto the words across her chest. Barely 4 minutes. The next guy was the older gentleman and he had a hard time keeping it up. The smell of Ben-Gay wafted up into her nose before he even got close. He stuck his penis in her mouth and moved slowly like he was in love and trying to be easy. Twice he went soft and she would suck even harder to get him up again, she couldn't take the cane again. As the clock neared the 6 minute mark, the old timer finally turned around and stuck his ass hole to her mouth and yelled, "Suck my ass, you fucking bitch!!!! Do it now, do it now!" and as she probed his ass with her tongue, his dick stood out straighter than it had ever been and his load nearly reached the other wall. She was so disgusted that she gagged a couple of times, but the thought of the cane kept her from losing it entirely. The next guy was the heavy set man and when he stepped near her she began to try to back away. She had never seen a cock so big around! Not too big in length, but the girth was mammoth. He did not give her a chance to back away. He stepped up and grabbed her head with both hands and slammed her face into his crotch, sinking that huge cock all the way to the balls. She sputtered and gagged as he raped her poor unsuspecting throat. Not once taking it easy on her. He just kept slamming it home. Several times she thought she was going to vomit, but he didn't seem to care one way or another, he was going to get off and she was going to take it. Her eyes watered and she couldn't see the timer. She had no way of knowing how long this was lasting, but she didn't think she could take all of this and be beaten again, so with a gust of determination she sucked hard on his penis and when he began to back out of her throat, a sound erupted from him not unlike the howling of a wild animal and then her mouth and throat was filling with the musky taste of his sperm, and for fear that she would be beaten for making a mess, she swallowed it all. Room 420 "Not bad, Suck Slave, you had mere seconds to go…but lets see how well you service your master." And as he spoke he plopped his penis into her still slimy lips and began to pump her like the bitch that she was. But every time she felt him get close, he would pull out of her mouth and smack her leather covered face with his member, and she knew that she would never get him off in time without the use of her hands, but what was she to do but keep trying, she had to keep trying! Harder and harder she would suck his cock trying to get him off, but to no avail, just when she thought she had him close, the alarm went off, 7 minutes had passed and she had not done her job. She began to cry and to plead, but the master said nothing, just took his member out of her mouth and started putting her back into the whipping position, hands to the bedposts ass in the air propped on the ottoman. "I thought we had a deal?!, I should have known that a slut like you wouldn't be able to keep her word, now you must be punished." But instead of using the cane on her like he had promised, he licks his finger and begins to moisten her ass hole. She begins to scream. He does not listen; he just positions himself above her and then with a stiff dick, rams it home up her ass. Her screams resonate throughout the bedroom and the guys watching begin to masturbate at the site of her getting her ass poked. Soon, her screams of pain turns to animal like grunts and she seems to be enjoying herself a little, and before you know it, she is begging the master to let her hands go so that she can help him get off better. He still does not fully trust her intensions so he releases only her right hand and immediately she reaches between her thighs and begins to finger herself as the master reams her ass. The master is very pleased and excited by this and is soon coming deep inside her. But it seems that the slut is not yet satisfied, so the master unbinds her other hand and instructs her to lie on the bed face up. Then the master instructs her not to move or to touch herself until he returns. She has a hard time of it until he comes back. When he returns he has a length of nylon rope about 3 ft long and 1 inch in girth with a knot in one end. Immediately she flinches as he tosses it to her on the bed. "Masturbate with it, Slut. I want to watch you get off on that. 4 hard dicks couldn't get you off, so let's see what you can do with a limp noodle!" At first she is unsure what to do, but then the urge was stronger than she had ever been before, so she began to rub the rope into her clit as she rocked her pelvis back and forth, then she was sticking the knotted end of it up her freshly fucked as just as far as she could, then with the rest of it she pulled it up between her legs so that it would ride just across her clit and then she closed her legs tightly and began to rock her hips up and down as she pulled the rope tightly toward her chest. The Master and the guests where now at the edge of the bed watching closely as they stroked themselves to the movement of her show. As she began to moan louder, the master reached out and pulled her knees apart and went to the foot of the bed to watch. He wanted to see her pussy up close when she came. Her moaning began to grow even louder now as the knotted end of the rope began to slip from her ass and run across her swollen clit. When all of a sudden a warm drop of semen landed on her belly and she noticed that 2 of the guests were already spent once again and that renewed her excitement and she pulled the knot free from her ass as she came with a scream. And as the rope pulled free, the master reached out and held her knees apart and watched as the sweet liquid from her pussy ran from her freely and landed on the sheets of the bed, and as it did, the other guest lost his load on the sheets as well, and the master lost his on the foot of the bed as he held her there and just took in the site he had just witnessed. Then without further interest, he ordered her, like she was, to return to the corner, where he handcuffed her hands behind her back and closed the zippers on her hood, and then thanked his guests for coming as he handed them a healthy sized check and shut the door behind them. Room 422 'Old Vinyl Classics – The station that brings you the greatest hits of the 60s, 70s and...' The old car stereo in my car crackled as I turned it off and parked my car alongside the curb. Once again I was in a familiar part of town; it was a place where I had parked my car many times during the past two years or so. Once again, I was on my way to band rehearsal, and again I was running a bit late, as was the case more often than not. To be honest, I really didn't care that much. A few months ago, things had been different. Our band had picked up some momentum; the 'right' people had started talking about us. We had even had a few interesting offers from two or three record labels, and things had been looking pretty good. But, our expectations had been if not dashed then at least considerably dented. Some of the offers had been, shall we say, less than serious, and the one that looked most promising was turned down after Paul and Andy had decided that the record label in question was not 'our style'... Since then, the atmosphere in the band had taken a turn for the worse. Paul and Andy's reluctance to the record company naturally played a big part, but there was something else brewing underneath, at least between Paul and me. Ever since we played at his mom's birthday party a little more than three months ago, he had acted a bit weird whenever I was around. But let's face it – why wouldn't he? Things were not the same anymore. Heck, I wasn't the same anymore! What happened at that party was a secret of mine, a secret shared only by Paul's mom, Mrs. Freemont – Amy. The passionate, sexual encounter that she and I had that summer's day was between me and her alone, but Paul's suspicions were as painfully obvious now as they were then. This night was grey and damp. It had been raining all day, and the streets were still wet. Small drops of water were still falling, and they reflected the yellow glow of the streetlamps as I walked the short distance from my parked car to the building were we used to rehearse. It was an old building, pretty worn down, with very few tenants. Paul and Andy rented a big loft four stories up together, so it really was a combined apartment and rehearsal room for them. Although the loft was originally laid out as one, big, single room, Paul and Andy had used curtains and sheets to split it up into separate sections. They both had a 'room' of their own, and besides the part of the room where our instruments were set up, they had also managed to create a sort of a living room and a make-do kitchen with just a hot-plate and a microwave oven. The place simply shouted out 'bachelor pad', but still it actually had a cosy feel to it. One bad thing about this building was that it had no elevator. So, as I started walking up the stairs I couldn't help but wonder if this was just another one of those nights. The sessions during last couple of weeks had not been so much about rehearsing as it had been about arguing and bickering. Somewhere deep down we were all hell-bent on taking this band to great heights, I guess that's why we kept on going after all. But lately there had been so many different opinions about everything that I felt that I was coming closer to a point where I would have to decide whether or not to stay in the band. The way things were now, I really couldn't see the point anymore, but I was still willing to give it another chance. Having ascended the staircase, I reached the entrance to Paul and Andy's place. Without knocking or anything, I went right in. That was they way I used to do it. Taking off my shoes and coat, I called out a hello. I heard the guys reply from the 'kitchen', which was adjacent to the entrance. I went in and found them all three gathered there, Paul, Andy and Greg. Greg lived at his own place, but it was just a five-minute walk from the loft. I was the only one who had to drive to get there, so I was the one who was running late most frequently. Tonight I was about fifteen minutes late, so the guys gave me the usual treatment. 'Glad you could show up', Andy said in a sarcastic tone of voice. 'Yeah, sorry about that. I've had a lot to do today, and got a little held back at work. The company had the paperwork on a big order screwed up bad, and as usual it's always the blue collars who pays the price by having to work overtime...' 'Ok' was the group's mutual, short reply. Andy was the one who said the actual word, but looking at Paul I could see that he was just as bugged at me for being late as Andy was. Greg, as usual, felt the tension and stepped in to mediate. 'Oh, it's no big deal, is it? John's only fifteen minutes late, and we're running a bit behind too, aren't we?', Greg said to Andy and Paul. Then he turned to me: 'We've had company here tonight, so we're not really ready to begin rehearsals either.' The question of course hit me; who else was here? The guys were just putting some coffee mugs on a tray – five of them – and as we left the kitchen and headed for the living room, Paul said: 'My mom is here for a short visit.' He looked at me as if he was scanning me for a reaction. In that same instant, I could have sworn that my heart skipped a beat. I continued to follow the guys to the living room, but although it took us just a few seconds to get there, thousands of thoughts had the time to fly through my head. For the past three months, I had not been able to stop thinking about Paul's mom and what had happened between us. What we had shared had been more than I had ever experienced before up to that point, and the image of her in her sexy satin lingerie and white pearls had burned itself firmly in my mind. Not a day had gone by that summer and autumn that I hadn't thought about her, and every time it had brought me to such emotional chaos. I had wanted to see her again, to touch her again, to fuck her again, but it had always felt so impossible, so unreal. The more time that had passed since the party, the more I had told myself that it had been a one-time thing. A wild, sexual adventure that she had used me for. For Christ's sake, she was a married woman. Sure, she had told me that she and Paul's dad were going through some hard times, but the fact that I hadn't heard from her at all since then told me that she had wanted nothing more to do with me. And it was Paul's mom... Every time that he had looked at me, I had felt such guilt. Not that I hadn't loved every second of our time together, but the fact that I was her son's friend made things unimaginably complicated. And now she was here. She was just a few feet away from me, and we were going to see each other again for the first time since I threw her a kiss as she lay naked on her bed. A thousand more thoughts shot through me; what was she wearing, how would she smell, what was she going to say, how was she going to act? As Andy, who was going first, turned and went through the opening between a pair of curtains that lead into the living room, I heard that beautiful voice again: 'That coffee will sure taste good. Thanks.' Her voice was just as I remembered it. I turned and came into the room, and there she was. I could feel my heart pounding like a drum as I looked at this sexy and beautiful woman. Her appearance was quite different from what it had been at the party of course, and her clothes were more casual. She was wearing a pair of dark blue trousers and a simple, light grey blouse with short sleeves to go with it. She wore her hair down this time, and it fell straight down to her shoulder blades. I noticed that the fringe of her hair was shorter now, but it still reached down to just above her eyebrows. The glamour of the black and white dress that I hadn't been able to get out of my head since our last meeting was not there now, but now she radiated more of a business woman sexiness instead. Yet underneath it all, I knew she was the same, knock-out woman, and I couldn't help but think about the feel of her tits against my skin, and her warm, wet pussy. That's when I saw it; the one detail that was still there. She was wearing the same pearl bracelet as she had three months ago. The two strings of white beads and the golden clasp encircled her wrist, but this time it was on her left arm. As I looked at the bracelet, she gave me a look as if to remind me of how she had wanted to use her left hand to stroke my dick, and how I had asked her to use her right hand because I wanted to see the pearls. Now she had moved it, as if to compromise and give us both what we wanted. I must have been standing there as if in a daydream, but I snapped out of it as she suddenly said: 'Oh John, so you've arrived too! It's so nice to see you again. Thanks again for playing at my party, everyone appreciated it so much.' 'Don't mention it', was all I could muster. Just being in front of her again was so overwhelming. In this situation, it almost felt like a dream that she and I had fucked each other. With Andy, Greg and above all Paul present, she again took on the role as mother, and it was such a contrast to the image of her in my mind that I didn't know how to act or behave. Feeling a desperate need to keep up appearances, I soon managed to continue: 'So what are you doing in town, Am... Mrs. Freemont?' How ironic. At the day of the party she had reminded me more than one time to call her Amy, but I had stuck on Mrs. Freemont. During the past months she had been nothing but Amy in my mind, and now that I really needed to keep my face, it almost betrayed me. I don't know if Paul reacted to my near-slip at the time, but there and then it felt like the whole world immediately knew what had happened between his mom and me. She, however, played it cool and kept the 'casual' conversation going. 'Oh, I'm just down here for a few days to see some friends. Sort of like a small tour of this part of the country, I have a lot of old friends down here since my college days. And of course I had to swing by and see Paul too. It was only a coincidence that I came on the same day as your rehearsing, but I hope you don't mind having some audience?' Audience... The last time she had watched us play I had barely been able to keep my eyes off her. And that had been before our 'meeting'. How was I going to keep a straight face for two hours with her watching us rehearse? But, of course, that was not my reply. 'Of course not, that's ok with me.' For the following two hours, I was a mess. We hooked up our instruments and rehearsed as usual. In fact, compared to how it had been lately, it was better than usual. Instead of arguing about stuff, we actually spent most of the time playing music. But my contribution was terrible. As I tried to keep myself from staring at Amy, I couldn't stop all the thoughts in my head, and made at least ten errors in each song we played. Needless to say, the guys weren't too thrilled about my performance, but at least we made it through the songs on our rehearsal list. When we were finished, Paul was the one who opened his mouth first: 'Well, that was pretty bad. It's a good thing we turned down that record deal, it would have been embarrassing sounding like this in a studio or at a gig.' As I tried to come up with a quick excuse for my bad performance, Amy stood up and said: 'Aw, come on honey, it wasn't that bad. After all, isn't this what rehearsals are all about anyway?' 'Well, I guess so', was Paul's short response. 'You guys keep at it', she continued. 'Even if it didn't go that well tonight, I still think you have a lot of potential. Things will really start happening for you soon, I guarantee it!' As she said those last sentences, she gave me a quick look. Then she picked up her purse from the floor and said: 'Well, I have to get going now. I'm seeing a friend tomorrow morning, so I'd better get some sleep soon. I'll just have to use the little girls' room before I go. Paul, where is it?' Paul pointed his mom to the bathroom, and she disappeared for a while. When she came out again, Greg had already left. Paul, Andy and I were standing in the hall, and I had already put my jacket on. As Amy went to put her shoes on, she managed to catch my eye. As I followed her with my eyes she gave me a special look and twitched her head slightly towards the bathroom, as if she wanted me to go in there. I was completely taken by surprise, but quickly managed to blurt out: 'I'll just have to use the bathroom too, before I go.' Without waiting for a response, I went across the hall, into the bathroom and locked the doors around me. Looking around, I immediately spotted a small piece of paper that had been carefully placed on the toilet seat. I picked it up, unfolded it, and read the short message scribbled on it: 'Call me', followed by Amy's cell phone number. I felt a shiver run down my spine, and quickly put the piece of paper in my pocket. To avoid suspicion, I flushed the toilet and washed my hands. As I got out of the bathroom, Paul and Andy had returned to the living room. I went in to say bye, and noticed at the same time that Amy must have left while I was in the bathroom. 'Bye guys, see you next week.' I didn't get much of a reply, just a low, grunting sound, as if to reinforce how less-than-enthusiastic Andy and Paul were about tonight's rehearsal. Anyway, I left the loft, went down the stairs and out into the streets, back to my car. As I sat down inside, I let out a deep breath. What a night! I just sat there for a few minutes, trying to gather my thoughts a little. I started the car, but quickly stopped the engine again. I couldn't wait until I got home; I had to talk to her immediately. I picked up the piece of paper from my pocket, and reached into my coat for my cell phone. As I dialled her number, I could feel my heart rate go up. 'Hello?', her warm voice said on the other end. 'Amy, it's John.' 'God, I was hoping it was you. I have to see you again, John. Soon.' I was a bit surprised by how eager she sounded. Knowing that we had gone past the point of no return already on our first meeting, I still tried to do 'the right thing', for some reason. 'Is that really a good idea, Amy?' I said. 'Isn't this whole thing just too complicated?' 'I know what I want, and I know you want it too.' 'But...' She quickly interrupted me before I could continue. 'I'm on my way back to the hotel where I'm staying', she said. 'The Grand Bay Hotel, do you know it?' 'Yes, I know it, but do you really think...' 'We can talk more later. Come over there tonight, as soon as you can. I'm in room 422.' She was right; I wanted it too. There was no use trying to uphold some ethics that I really didn't want to follow. I knew I had to see her, right there and then. 'Alright, I'll be there in 45 minutes.' I drove off into the night, headed for the more fashionable parts of town. All the way my mind was spinning in anticipation of what was ahead of me. Once again, I found myself locked in a struggle with myself, ethics fighting primal instincts. God, how I wanted to fuck her again! But all the time, there was the thought of taboo digging through my brain. Looking back at it now though, I'm pretty sure that only turned me on more. I parked my car a few blocks from the hotel. Sure, I knew that no one would recognise my car, or care about it if they saw it, but it just seemed smart to avoid leaving any evidence of my presence at the hotel. As I neared the hotel entrance, I focussed all my concentration on holding back the hard-on in my pants. When I went through the revolving doors and passed through the hotel lobby, I did my best to appear as casual as possible. Just moving helped me constrain my aching dick, so I headed up the stairs instead of taking the elevator. Four stories up, I headed into the hallway. Trying to not look as if I didn't know where I was going, I started walking down the carpet, just glancing at the door numbers along the way. When I finally reached number 422, I had almost reached the far end of the corridor. Moistening my lips and taking a deep breath, I then knocked the door quietly. It didn't take long before it opened, and Amy appeared in front of me. What a revelation she was! She wasn't wearing the same clothes as she had been earlier that night; instead she had slipped into a black teddy. Black lace covered her perfect tits, but it couldn't conceal her nipples completely. The lacy pattern ended just below her chest, and the lower part of the teddy was made of a delicate, sheer fabric, the kind which really does not reveal much but still shows you everything somehow. The teddy ended halfway down her thighs, and I could discern a black matching panty underneath. However, I didn't have much time to admire her before she grabbed my shirt and literally pulled me inside the room and closed the door behind us. Without a word, she pushed me against the wall and started kissing me. My hands immediately found their ways to her hips, and I began kissing her back. We were acting like starving animals. For three months I had been wondering if I'd ever get to see, let alone touch her again, and suddenly our tongues were exploring each other again. Our lips remained locked as I started to run my hands through her hair. I could smell her femininity and how horny she was, and as she began to pull my shirt up from my pants she started to talk, still kissing my mouth and breathing heavily. 'Oh God, John, I've missed you. I've been thinking about you and what we did every day for the past three months. I need you to fuck me again, John, I want you so bad!' 'I've missed you too, Amy', I panted. 'I didn't know if I was ever going to see you again.' 'We're together now, that's all that matters', she replied. 'But we can talk later, just shut up and fuck me now!' Whatever ethics that had still been in my head as I had entered the hotel were blown away now. There was no little voice inside saying that this was wrong. It was pure instinct, and I knew that I had to fuck her right there and then. Amy pulled up my shirt from my pants and unbuttoned it, all the while keeping her eyes fixed on my chest and breathing loudly through her open mouth. She threw my shirt on the floor and ran her hands down my chest, but as she reached the button on my pants, I grabbed her and pushed her against the wall behind her. I buried my eyes in hers and held her in a firm grip, to show her that I wanted things to slow down. Her chest continued to heave up and down from her breathing, but she slowly calmed down in my grip. She gave me a teasing kiss and gently pushed me away from her. Glancing over her shoulder, she headed towards the bedroom. I just stood there for a moment before following her, letting my eyes explore her entire figure. Her sexy appearance was accentuated by that amazing piece of lingerie, which was low cut to reveal the better portion of her back. The two, thin straps crossed on her back and disappeared under her beautiful hair. As she disappeared through the bedroom door, I went after her. When I entered the room, she was standing by the bed, just waiting for me. I took Amy in my arms. Ever so softly, I let my hands move from her arms to her shoulders, just barely touching her warm skin along the way. We continued to gaze into each others' eyes as I continued to caress her. I worked my way down, but I didn't make any effort to remove the teddy. It was just too sexy for that. The black fabric fell beautifully against her tanned skin, just barely revealing the outlines of the black pair of panties underneath. As I slid my hands in under the cloth, it was like an electric spark ignited when my fingertips touched her skin. Standing on my knees before her, I caressed her stomach and let my hands pass up her torso. With an outward circling motion of my hands, I felt her tits against my palms again. The black lace, with a pattern of small flowers embroidered in it, was running over the back of my hands, and I could feel the perky tips of her nipples as I began kissing her abdomen through the sheer material. Amy soon grabbed my head and started to run her hands through my hair, and after a while I could hear her whisper: Room 422 'John, lick me. Please, lick my pussy.' She didn't have to ask me twice. I lifted the bottom of her teddy, just enough to reveal the sexy panties. I gave her labia a quick kiss through the front of the sexy thong, and then let them slip down her thighs. When they reached the floor, Amy kicked them away and lay down on the bed. I was still on my knees as she spread her legs apart and signalled me to come closer. I eased towards the bed, bent down and started kissing her left foot. Amy's breathing became heavier, and her voice was no longer whispering. 'John, I can't wait any longer. Lick my pussy!' Amy didn't have to ask me twice. Working my way down her leg, I closed in on her warm entrance. I could smell her juices as I carefully touched her clit with the tip of my tongue. Amy's whole body tensed as if an electric spark had gone through her, and she threw out her arms on the bed spread and grabbed it firmly. I continued to stimulate the pulsating button just above her crack, switching between circling around it with my tongue and kissing it softly. After a while, Amy started to lift her pelvis to my face, begging me with her movements to give her more. With my fingers I gently eased her labia apart, giving me access to the pink walls inside. With one hand still keeping the slit open, I slowly inserted two fingers and began fingering her. I looked up at Amy, and she was still grabbing the bed spread to live out the pleasure running through her. Feeling confident that she enjoyed what I was doing, I began kissing her clit again, still running my fingers in and out of her pussy. She was incredibly wet, and when I finally pulled my fingers out, they were utterly gleaming from her juices. I crawled up and lay down beside Amy, whose breathing was as heavy as ever. As I watched her chest heave up and down from her panting, I held out my wet fingers. Without a word, she engulfed them with her mouth and started suckling feverishly. 'You taste it', she said with foggy eyes, as she took me by the wrist and guided my hand to my mouth. As I sucked my fingers clean from that mixture of her oral and vaginal juices, I felt her hand grabbing my cock. An intense feeling ran up my spine as she gave it a few jerks and slowly began crawling down my chest. 'I want to taste you again, John' I heard her say, almost as if she was speaking to herself. 'It's been three months...' She didn't finish that sentence before taking my cock in her mouth. With one amazing gulp, I felt her throat burying the entire length of my dick, and her lips came together down at the root. With a moan of pleasure, I let my head fall back and rest on the bed, while at the same time caressing her back with one hand. Mrs. Freemont – my friend Paul's mom – was once again giving me the blowjob of my dreams. I almost couldn't believe it! Her expert treatment continued, and she seemed completely engrossed in my cock as she continued to lick it up and down, swallowing it, and massaging my balls at the same time. Suddenly, with a small pop she released it and looked up at me. 'Like I said before, it's so nice to see you again, John.' She repeated that line from earlier tonight at Paul's and Andy's place. But she was not the same woman now. Back there she was Paul's mom, now she was my lover, and I knew that was what she wanted to say with those words. Sitting on her knees beside me, Amy continued to stroke my hard cock as she just looked into my eyes with a smile, looking so extraordinarily sexy in that black teddy. Without another word, she soon bent down over it again, and resumed her work. Simultaneously, she moved her body closer to me, and with my dick still in her mouth, she straddled my chest and gave me full access to her dripping pussy. I placed my hands on her hips and began eating her. With each touch of my lips against her pussy, I could feel her giving the root of my cock a little squeeze with her hand. Almost instantly, we both understood this form of communication. I could actually control her treatment of my dick through her pussy. It was amazing, and I don't know for how long we remained in that 69 position, sort of getting reacquainted with each others' bodies. No matter what, none of us were nowhere near satisfied yet. We sat up in the bed, in a squatted position, and just looked at each other. Feeling completely natural, there was a pause in the action, as if we both needed to build up some strength before moving on. I leaned forward and gave Amy a kiss, and as she touched my cheek she said: 'Let's remove the bed spread. I want to crawl down under the sheets with you John, I want to make love to you.' I don't know if she noticed it then, but I immediately reacted to her choice of words. Up until now she had only talked about fucking, not making love. We both got out of bed, and threw the bed spread aside on the floor. Amy grabbed the quilt and pulled it aside, then crawled into bed again. She turned around to me and whispered: 'What are you waiting for, John? Come join me!' She reached out her hand, as if she wanted to emphasise her words. I took her by the hand, and she gently pulled me down beside her. Lying on our sides, facing each other, I let my hand run down her body, along the sexy, black fabric of her teddy. With one hand on my chest, Amy then pushed me down on my back and climbed on top of me. As she slowly began to rub her crotch against my dick, she gently scratched my chest with her fingernails as she said: 'Do you want me, John? Do you want to be inside me again?' 'You know I do, Amy' I responded. 'Call me Mrs. Freemont...' I didn't have time to reply to that before she reached down behind her and grabbed my cock. Holding it in a firm grip, she directed it towards her pussy. I felt her labia spread apart as she lowered herself down on me, letting my throbbing cock enter her slowly, inch by inch. Amy's breathing grew heavier as I reached deeper and deeper into her pussy, until finally she had buried my entire cock in her. I reached up towards the beautiful creature on top of me, and I began playing with her tits. Amy started riding me, lowering and raising her body up and down my shaft. Her muscles were massaging my cock as she worked it with her pussy; I was in heaven. As she picked up the pace and her riding grew more furious, she looked down on me and grunted through her teeth: 'Let's get this teddy off me, John. Rip it off me!' Her almost animal behaviour got straight to me, and made me even hornier. I grabbed the teddy between her tits, just where the lace formed a 'v' shape, and I pulled it apart. The sheer material offered no resistance, and I quickly ripped it off her. I felt Amy's fingernails bury themselves deeper into the skin of my chest as I pulled the last piece of fabric off her, and as her tempo grew even faster, she started throwing her head back and forth, just as she had done in her and her husband's room three months ago. As I grabbed her naked hips and helped her maintain the up-and-down motion of her body, I felt her entire body flex as she went into an orgasm. 'Yes!' she screamed. 'I'm coming, John!' Every muscle in Amy's body became rock hard as she stopped humping me. With a moan she fell down over my chest, kissing me passionately while her orgasm wore off. As she came around, she took a few deep breaths and looked into my eyes. 'More, John, I want more! And you haven't come yet. Come on, fuck me from behind again!' It took a little effort for her to get up again, and I could see that the orgasm had really sucked some energy out of her. But it didn't take long before she was standing on all fours in the bed, looking back at me over her shoulder. Standing on my knees, I came up behind her and grabbed my hard dick. I pushed it in between her legs and let the upper part rub against her clit and slit for a few minutes, while I gently massaged the opening of her ass. Squirming and writhing in front of me, Amy's motions were like a silent begging of me to penetrate her again. And after a while, I decided that I'd done enough teasing. Placing the head of my dick against her pussy lips, I then grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed inside her. Amy's back arched as I entered her opening again. As I started to hump her from behind, I arched my neck backwards and moaned: 'Mrs. Freemont, you're so sexy, you're so hot. I love fucking you from behind Mrs. Freemont!' 'I know you do', she replied with a panting voice. 'I know you love fucking your friend's mom! What would Paul say if he knew?' She was talking dirty to me, and I loved it. She reminded me that this was 'forbidden fruit', and it was only making me wilder. My thrusts became more violent with every inning, and Amy started to scream from sheer pleasure. 'Ooooh yeeees! Fuck me from behind, John! Harder! Deeper!' I leaned over her and grabbed her tits, just as I hade done the last time. With my head resting on its side on her back, I continued to pump her pussy hard as I caressed her sexy tits, which were now swinging back and forth under her. I could feel my juices built up deep down, but I didn't want to come yet. Instead, I gave her three, hard final thrusts of my cock, and then I slid out again. 'Roll over, Mrs. Freemont', I said as I pushed her down on her back. She made no attempts at all to fight me, and willingly fell down on her back in front of me. As I looked down on Amy, I could see that she was sweating all over, her face, chest and thighs gleamed in the pale moonlight that was shining in through the bedroom window. It was night outside now; we must have been at it for quite some time at that point... Amy pulled up her legs and spread them wide apart. With one hand she began rubbing her clit, as she invited me: 'How about finishing off in good old missionary style?' 'You read my mind, Mrs. Freemont', I replied as I lay down on top of her. A strain of hair had fallen down across her face. I gently brushed it aside, and gave Amy a deep kiss before positioning my pelvis on top of her. As I lowered myself down, I felt my hard dick disappear into her once more. Amy gave off a silent squeal under our kiss, and I could feel her legs wrapping around my lower back as I began to move in and out of her again. Her fingernails were now leaving scratch marks on my back, and she passionately started to nibble my earlobe as she moaned softly into my ear: 'Come inside me, John. I want you to come inside me. Please.' Right there and then, I was willing to do whatever she asked of me. Her voice reached a high-pitch register as she whimpered and moaned into my ear. That sound brought me to a climax, and as I felt my cum rushing, I gave her a few, final thrusts before I shot my load into her pussy. With my hands against the sheets, I pushed up, still inside her, and gave out a loud moan as my back arched and I emptied my juices into her. I felt my cock twitch inside her warm tunnel as it pumped out my seed, and then I fell back down on top of her, exhausted. Catching my breath, I felt like I had just finished a marathon race. My energy was completely drained, but I finally rolled of her, and my now limp dick slid out of her pussy. Amy leaned in over me, kissed me on the cheek and simply said: 'Thank you.' Then we fell asleep. When I woke up the following morning, Amy was already in the shower. I stayed in bed and waited for her to finish. As she came out, wearing a cotton bathrobe and with a towel wrapped around her head, I gave her a smile and said: 'Thanks for last night, it was amazing.' 'Thank you. I know, it was fantastic. And I want to do it again, but now you should get out of her. A friend of mine just called to say that she was picking me up for lunch, and it's not a good idea to let her see you here.' 'Sure, no problem', I said. I got out of bed and put my pants back on. I figured I could just as well take a shower when I got home. The pieces of Amy's ripped teddy were still scattered across the floor, and when I noticed them I looked up at her. She blushed slightly and gave me a coy smile, before throwing me my shirt. 'Now get out of here!' she said, still with a smile on her face, at the same time trying to sound serious. With my clothes back on, I soon stood by the door, with Amy in front of me. Before leaving though, I had to hold her in my arms again. We shared a warm embrace, and with her hands in mine, I looked into her eyes and said something that I regretted at the same time they came out: 'Mrs. Freemont, I think I love you...' All of a sudden, I felt so awkward. Amy just smiled at me, then reached behind me and opened the door to the hallway. She gently pushed me out into the corridor, and just before she closed the door, she said: 'I'll call you.' Room 427 My planning was meticulous. It had to be, of course, if I were to get away with it. I read up on female psychology, tested a range of equipment, and plotted possible eventualities in every detail. That things didn't turn out quite as expected is undeniable, but I don't think lack of preparation was the cause. The day began as usual. I woke around 7am with my wife Laura curled around me. Laura is beautiful. Long dark hair, smiling eyes, a modest demeanour, and the sexiest legs I've ever seen. Her head was on my chest, and she was sleeping contentedly. I gently disengaged myself, made some strong coffee, and as I sat sipping it, asked myself one last time whether I wanted to go through with the plan. I was a very lucky man to have such a captivating wife, and there were risks that this would change our relationship forever. But as my head filled with the exhilarating images of what was to come that evening, all doubts flew away. *** Later that day, around mid-morning, Laura phoned me at work. Her voice was warm but intrigued. "Hello sweetie" she said. "I found a curious note on my pillow this morning, with a red rose." "Ah yes," I replied, feigning nonchalance, "And what did the note say?" "It tells me to go to the Hilton at 8pm tonight, for a new experience. ... I hope it's nothing I wouldn't like..." There was a smile in her voice, but also a touch of trepidation, I was pleased to note. "Better be there, then." I said cheekily, and hung up. *** At 8pm, she entered the foyer of the hotel. I watched her. She wore black stilettos, sheer black stockings, a long black skirt that swirled as she walked, a red silk shirt open at the collar, and a pearl necklace. Her hair was loose, flowing down her back. Always elegant, tonight she looked especially stunning. Her eyes met mine, and twinkled in anticipation of the unknown. She had no idea what was coming, and that made the encounter exciting for us both. Maybe she thought it was just a special meal. As I greeted her, I breathed her subtle French perfume, and began to wonder again if she would ever talk to me again after this evening. I guided her to the restaurant, where we had oysters and champagne to start, asparagus and truffles to follow. Unoriginal, I know, but the old ways are sometimes the best. I plied her with wine, and the conversation flowed with wit and passion. So when I explained that we would have dessert upstairs, she wasn't surprised. She looked at me with a coy smile. "This wouldn't be a 'Nine-and-a-half weeks' dessert, would it?" The colour rose in her cheeks, slightly. Quite a demure lady, Laura. Little did she know that eating strawberries blindfolded was the least of it. "Ah, you'll have to see." I replied, with a grin. And she blushed further, but at the same time flicking her hair to show she was game for a little fun. "I just hope you're in the mood for some stimulation." I added. She stroked her pearls, and I noticed another button of her shirt slipped open. *** I led the way to the room. In the lift, she gripped my hand, nibbled my earlobe, rubbed my back affectionately, and gazed up me with captivating eyes. Laura was clearly in the mood. I'd spent half-an-hour earlier in the evening setting up the room. Soft lighting, romantic music, champagne on ice, fresh strawberries and cream waiting. I led her to the bed and sat her down, against the headboard. I produced a blindfold. Her eyes sparkled, and she smiled. "I knew this was the surprise!" she said. I put the blindfold on her, and began to feed her. The sight of the soft red fruit topped with white cream entering her ruby lips was a definite turn on for me, and I could sense by her quickening pulse that she was enjoying this too. I licked a spot of cream left behind on her lips, and she shivered in pleasure. "Now comes something more..." I said. This point contained the most risk. If she baulked at this stage, all the planning was for nothing. Still, nothing ventured, nothing gained. I reached under the bed, retrieved the handcuffs that were already attached to the bedpost, and clicked them on her left wrist. "Wh... what?" she said, startled. "Trust me" I said, as calmly as I could, given my arousal. "You'll like it." At the same time, I clicked her right wrist with the second pair of handcuffs attached to the other bedpost. I fed her another strawberry, and she quivered in anticipation. "You like this, don't you?" I said silkily. There was a pause, while she struggled to overcome her natural modesty, and her disbelief that I could be doing this to her, and then she gasped "Yes". That was all I need to know. I pulled her flat on her back, her arms stretched above her head. I kissed her roughly, and tore open her red silk shirt, to reveal a lacy black bra. She gasped again. "I can do anything I want to you, can't I?" I said. She struggled against the handcuffs, and her beautiful legs writhed. "Yes" she said, breathily. I stroked the top of her breast with my hand. Her skin felt electric to the touch. I unzipped my trousers, and placed my cock between her breasts. Her breath caught. She was worried I was going to make her suck me, because she didn't want me to cum in her mouth. "You're going to suck my cock." I said, calmly. "No!" "Oh yes" and I moved my cock to her lips. They remained resolutely shut. I slipped my hand inside her bra and pinched her nipple. She cried out. Again I moved my cock to her lips, and this time she reluctantly opened up. "Suck" I said. She did nothing, so I eased my cock in and out of her mouth. She turned her head away. "I'm going to have to punish you, aren't I?" I said. "No, please don't" she gasped. Her head remained turned away, but the colour in her cheeks and her heavy breathing showed she was embarrassed that the threat of being forced to do something against her will was so exciting. "You're going to suck my cock, and you're going to swallow my cum." "No!" "Then I'm afraid punishment it is" I zipped up my trousers, picked up the phone, dialled a number and said "OK, you can come up now." Laura gasped. "What's going on? Someone else? You wouldn't!" She struggled against the handcuffs again, her legs writhing. But there was an actorly nature to her protestations. She thought this was a game, and she was playing along. Good. "I gave you a choice." "No! I'll do it... I'll... suck..." "Too late" I said. "No!" I set-up the video camera, very quietly. Laura was still writhing, and listening to try to work out what I was up to. She was excited, but also feeling shame that she was excited about the pretence that a stranger was going to enter this room and do things to her. There was a knock at the door. Laura started. Her head jerked towards the door, but she could see nothing because of the blindfold. "This is a game, right? You've just arranged for room service to come up to make me think someone is coming to punish me, right?" I put on an exaggerated tone: "Oh no! This is for real..." Laura relaxed. My tone told her now that it was just pretence. I switched on the video camera, opened the door, and let in the hooker. *** Danielle was shorter than Laura, but with larger breasts, which were currently strapped in a bra underneath a black t-shirt. She didn't have Laura's refined beauty, but she oozed sex in every slinky curve. Her hair was tied back in a pony-tail. No scent: I didn't want Laura to know for certain that there was a third person in the room, let alone a woman. Danielle walked over the bed, the sound of her high-heeled leather boots masked by the thick carpet. She gazed down at the prone figure on the bed, nodding approvingly. She'd already seen a photo of Laura, and had jumped at the chance of fucking such a beauty. Now my elegant wife was handcuffed to the bed, blindfolded, her shirt torn open and her long legs writhing. Danielle shivered in anticipation. Sitting down softly on the bed, Danielle stroked Laura's cheek. I stood behind Danielle and said to Laura "You had your chance. Now you will pleasure and be pleasured without a choice." Laura gasped "Please no!" and although I think the thought of another person pleasuring her was making her more sexually excited than she had ever been, I know for sure that if she realised that there was someone there she would screamed the place down. Danielle moved to the end of the bed, and began expertly massaging Laura's legs. She eased off Laura's stilettos, and stroked repeatedly from delicate ankle to slender thigh. I could tell all Laura's senses were on high alert for what might happen next. When Danielle reached up under my wife's long skirt, to remove her stockings, Laura began to writhe violently. Danielle slapped her on the side of her ass until the writhing was less wild, and then eased off Laura's stockings very gently. Danielle put Laura's high heels back on. A nice touch, emphasising Laura's elegant ankles. The massaging continued, getting closer and closer to the top of Laura's legs. She suddenly switched her attention to Laura's face, tracing a finger along the edge of Laura's jaw and gently stroking Laura's lips. Laura's breath caught. The finger travelled down Laura's neck, to the top of her bra, and stroked the top of Laura's breast. A look of sheer lust came over Danielle's face. It made me a little scared about what I was doing, and about what Danielle might to Laura. But it was also the most erotic sight I'd ever seen. Danielle gently eased one of Laura's nipples out from the bra, bent her head down and tenderly licked it. I came suddenly, and unexpectedly, and collapsed in a chair. *** Laura started when she heard me. The look of fear on her face showed that she had suddenly realised that someone else could really be in the room. She struggled. Danielle calmly took out Laura's other nipple and give it a hard twist. Laura gasped in pain. Danielle began softly kissing her way up Laura's leg. Then, firmly bracing Laura's leg to one side, she pushed up the skirt, and worked her way Laura's inner thigh until her lips came in contact with underwear. Laura shivered. Danielle repeated the process with the other leg. This time she eased off Laura's knickers. Then she began kissing and licking Laura's cunt. Laura's back arched. Danielle continued. With her pink tongue darting eagerly, she eased apart the lips of Laura's cunt, and found the nub of Laura's sex. She sucked, and licked, and then sighed as Laura moaned gasped and juddered. Laura heard the sigh. It was clearly not me, but she was too caught up in the throes of sexual ecstasy to care. I moved to the head of the bed, and put my cock in Laura's mouth in mid-gasp. Laura's lip closed and she suckled me relentlessly. She must know now that she was having sex with two people, something this demure beauty would never have agreed to willingly. I could sense Laura was about to come again. Now came the best part. Taking my cock out of her mouth, I propped up her head. She was gasping for breath as Danielle continued to lick relentlessly. And then I removed the blindfold. Her eyes widened in horror as she saw instantly that the person responsible for this intense sexual pleasure was another woman. "No!" she cried, and blushed deeply in shame at the overpowering excitement she was feeling due to another woman's ministrations. In her eyes, fierce waves of simultaneous disgust and passion intermingled. But Danielle didn't stop, and Laura's climax grew and grew. All at once, she came, and fell back on the pillow, gasping for breath, her eyes wild. Danielle stood up, walking slowly and deliberating, showing off her boots and short leather mini-skirt to Laura as she did so. She slowly took off her t-shirt and bra, exposing her breasts, and shook her hair loose from its pony tail. Laura strained at the hand cuffs, feeling exposed and fearful, but still panting from the orgasm. Danielle walked over to Laura, fixed her with a wicked smile, and said, "Now that a woman has made you come, you are my bitch. I'm going to enjoy fucking you, bitch. And you're going to learn how to pleasure me. You're never going to be able to forget tonight." Room 42 "UUuuuHHh!!!" Emma groaned as she climaxed as well, set of by the feeling of my spunk shooting into her. I collapsed onto her sweaty heaving body, completely spent. Emma wrapped her arms around me and gave me a satisfied kiss. "You're one helluva lay Emma Watson." I panted out, smiling at her flushed face. "You're one helluva fuck yourself Mister." She grinned before kissing me again. I rolled off her and we lay side by side recovering from our exertions. "Can I ask, why me Emma?" I said. "What do you mean?" "I mean there must be hundreds, thousands of guys you could have got to 'help' you with your 'role-play'. So why ask me? I'm nothing special." "Well I think you are. You were kind and helpful when called the desk. "But I'd have done that for anyone; I didn't even know it was you." "That's my point; you didn't do it because I'm famous, you did it out of kindness. And it was a nice sandwich too." "I still don't see how that qualifies me for what I must admit was the best fuck I'll ever have." Emma propped herself up on one elbow and gave me the impish grin. "Maybe I just fancy you? And who said we're finished?" "Oh, I see now. It's a plot to see how long it takes for you to kill someone with sex." I laughed. "You got it!" She laughed back. "The perfect murder." I reached up and pulled her close to kiss her once more. "Do your worst, you vile criminal." I said, flopping back onto the bed dramatically. "I'll need to get this greedy fellah ready again first." She giggled, dropping her hand to my cock, still slippy with the mixture of our juices and pumped it a little, her slim fingers stroking up and down the shaft. She smirked as it miraculously began to harden again in response to her touch. At the bottom of the next stroke her hand went further, down to my balls. She stroked them gently and then rested them in the palm of her hand, toying with them. I groaned as I became fully erect for a third time that night. Emma smiled. "There he is; all ready to go again." She flipped onto all fours. "Do me from behind this time. Do me 'doggy-style'." I shuffled around on my knees behind her. She wiggled her bum at me provocatively. "Tease!" I said, slapping her waggling rump tenderly. She giggled and wiggled it some more. I clamped my hands around her waist and pulled her back towards me. I slid slowly into her welcoming pussy, pushing until I was balls deep, my thighs against the back of Emma's legs. She gave a satisfied sigh. I pulled back as slowly as I had pushed forward, wanting to savour this fuck. Emma wasn't over-impressed with this slow-motion action. "Hey slowcoach, speed it up a bit." She grinned at me, as if she understood why I was taking my time. Obligingly I quickened my pace a little. I looked down and was entranced by the sight of my cock slipping in and out of her cunt. A memory of my earlier thought came to me as I looked at her bum. With a smile to myself I ran my forefinger and then my thumb down the crack of her ass, teasing her puckered butt-hole. Emma gave another start of surprise and then looked back at me, a smile spreading across her features. "Go on then." She giggled. I pushed my thumb into her crinkled hole. Nice," she cooed, "but not deep enough." Eager to please her, I removed my thumb and replaced it with two fingers. Emma was still rocking back and forth along my prick as I eased the digits into her ass. She gave another little gasp of pleasure as I finger-fucked her behind. "Deeper! I want it deeper." She breathed. "That's as deep as my fingers will go, Miss Greedy." I laughed. "Then use something else." She panted. "Something else...? You mean...?" I could only think of one thing. "YES! Just do it will you." "Okay, okay, there's no need to go all 'Nike' on me." I smiled. I pulled my cock from her cunt; it was covered with both our juices from earlier. I rested it against her butt-hole. "You're sure you want me to do this?" I asked. "Get on with it." She giggled. Shrugging, I massaged some spit into her cute little bum-hole and then spread her buttocks apart. I pushed the head of my cock past her sphincter until the muscle clenched, halting my progress. "Sorry, often happens." Emma apologised breathlessly. "So you've had dick up your bum before?" "Once or twice. Try again now." She had relaxed and the rest of my shaft slid in until I was balls deep again. Good grief! Now I was fucking Emma Watson in the butt!! "MMmm mmm, so full." Emma murmured. "And your ass is so wonderfully tight." I replied. "You sure you've been buggered before?" "Only by the boys." She breathed, beginning to lose herself to her pleasure. 'That means pencil-dick Radcliffe and the ginge' I thought. "Didn't stretch you much did they?" I said in a smug self-satisfied voice. "Didn't get as deep either." She purred. I smiled to myself as I kept up my deliberate pace, a slow pounding of Emma's ass. "Have you ever cum just from getting butt-fucked?" I asked. "No. They always shoot off before I get there." Emma panted. She was giving out her guttural little groans now. "I can see why. Your sweet little ass is so tight and is really clamping on my dick. I don't know how much longer I can last. I was panting too now. "Don't leave me hanging." She gasped out. Still pistoning in and out, I reached around and began to tease her pussy with my fingers and her clit with my thumb. Keeping her balance with one hand, Emma began to play with her tits with the other. Our combined efforts seemed to have the desired effect; pretty soon Emma was arching her back in a now familiar way. I felt her ass muscles clenching around my cock; it was too much and I came, shooting what surely must be my last load of spunk for the day into her butt-hole. --- We both sank onto the bed exhausted, my spent cock still lodged in Emma's rectum. We lay together like that for a while, recovering our breath, our sweating bodies entwined. Eventually Emma spoke. "Can you get the next couple of weeks off? From your other job I mean." "I think so. I can go in tomorrow and ask. Why?" I replied. "I'd like to have you around while I finish this location filming." "Any reason for that?" I was puzzled. "If you must know," Emma sighed, "I can get pretty horny at times." "You don't say!" "And I want someone I can trust around to help me out. On 'Potter' I had the boys. On this flick there isn't anyone." I was about to ask 'Why Me?' again, but Emma forestalled me. "You're kind, honest and gentle. The fact you can fuck like a train is an added bonus." She turned over and gave me the impish grin. I kissed her on the nose. "Because it's you, I'll see what I can do." "I want you to understand that it's only for the two weeks mind. After that we go our separate ways. No ties." She seemed a little worried by what she was asking me to do. I smiled and stroked her hair. "I understand Emma. I'd happily lose an arm if it meant I got to fuck you for a fortnight. After you're done filming, you'll not hear from me again I promise. I'll even put it in writing if you like." And that was what happened. I spent the next two weeks accompanying Emma on the film set during the day, and fucking her every night. I still did my couple of nights as night clerk at the hotel and on her last night, which coincided with my shift, she came down and sucked me off behind the desk. We parted amicably like we'd promised, but I knew I'd never have such a time again. A month or so later I got a call to the desk not long after I'd started my shift. It was from room forty-two. "Erm, hello. A friend of mine suggested I spend a couple of nights here. She said the weekend night clerk had really helped her out. I was wondering if I could get some similar assistance?" "I take it you'd like a late-night sandwich?" I asked. "Yes, that's it, and hurry please......" --- I was woken by the sound of the phone beeping. I yawned; it was taking me a while to get used to this new part-time night job. I smiled as I recalled the dream I had just been having. As if Emma Watson would ever fuck me! I shook my head at my own warped fantasy. I answered the phone. "Hello, reception here." I said. "Hello," an eerily familiar voice said, "I was wondering about the possibility of getting a sandwich." I looked at the phone in shock; the call was from room forty-two...... --- Alternative endings I know. Couldn't decide between them, so used them both and it still appears to work. Room 431 You know London, it's love or hate it. Some will say it's a shithole with a nice centre, some will say it's the best city in the world. Personally I don't go as far as loving it, I just like London. It's better than many other places and as well worse than others. But it's not of London that I mean to tell tonight, rather of something that happened there. I was a sales representative at the time, travelling all around the world to meet customers. I must say it was not a bad job, for I did not have anyone waiting for me at home and enjoyed an almost total freedom. That particular day I had had a customer sign a contract for a rather big supply, the deal was sealed at a restaurant late night and I was quite happy with it. However happy, my face could tell that I 'had had enough' for the day and craved going back to my hotel room, so I greeted my newly acquired customers and walked to the closest Tube station. My feet were cold in those high heels, not surprisingly it was February and cold wind blew up the Strand as I was finally getting to my hotel. The warmth of my room welcomed me, I immediately put away my coat; my skirt, shoes and tights soon followed that same destiny. I laid on the bed, with my eyes closed, unsure if to take a nap that way or regain some composure. No, I didn't in fact and instead my hand fell to my crotch, starting to tickle my clit. Pity I had no toys with me, I've always been shy to show my toys to the security guard checking my hand luggage at the airport and as well never wanted to lose one, should the airline mess with my checked in baggage. Toys are a treat for when I am at home. I slipped two fingers in my pussy more enjoying the feeling of having something inside than really finger fucking myself. I licked them clean, removing the white filaments on my fingers, tasting them slightly acidic. Soon then I decided to take a shower and go to sleep, so I undressed completely and started getting my things ready to get under the shower. There was a rather impressive mirror in the room, fixed just above the desk, which reflected my image and attracted my attention. I love my body, I will be honest here, I can put down a long report of flaws about it just like any other woman can do, but when I am alone and see my image reflected into a mirror I think it's damn hot. It's a pretty fuckable body, was I a man I would like to see those boobs jump at every blow and fuck until my balls ache. It's probably what many of my customers think too, not that I mind, one shall be an idiot to buy a ton of frozen food just in the hope to get a fuck with the sales representative. I love that narrow waist and well proportioned boobs, I stretched in front of the mirror to see that hint of a stomach lodge back and look absolutely flat. Yes, now it was perfect. I followed the landing strip on my crotch, perfect. It was an experiment a few years before, I wanted to try if it was more comfy to shave a little down there, my sensitivity improved so much that I had kept that 'hair style' since then. 'Well done, enough playing, got to have that shower.' thought. So I turned to get my hairbrush left on the bed and my eyes were attracted by the black figure standing at the window on the other side of the road. There was a building in fact, a bank I think, maybe an insurance company and someone was definitely working long hours. I walked to the window and the office worker waved me a salute with his hand, I was unsure if I was in front of the last maniac killer or had just given a show to someone normal, still there were two windows and a road between us. I replied the salute and showed him my back, with my hands at the knees and wiggling my bottom. I could see him smiling in his office. I turned and stretched like a cat, weighting up my boobs with my hands, landing a round lick on my nipples. His hand fell to his crotch and I saw the typical gesture of someone who is uncomfortably hard. I cannot tell exactly what went on at the other side of the street but I can bet he was disappointed when I turned back, he just did not know I was going to return holding a paper against the window, it could read 'Room 431'. The guy jumped and I saw him running across the empty office. I barely had the time to put down that paper that I heard a knock at the door. When I opened the door I found a typical office worker in a full dark suit, the tie loosened around his neck. Blue eyes and dark blonde hair, very British, in some ways that was a fantasy coming true. Who has never fantasized on all the British accountants flooding the Tube after 5pm? "Hello, I'm James." he said admiring my naked body standing on the door. I smiled "I'm Theodora." and added "From Greece." as I noticed my name sounded odd. He started a "So, Theod..." but couldn't finish the sentence as I landed a kiss on his mouth and dragged him in the room. He had a beard of a couple of days, I loved feeling it against my cheeks, my lips, scratching it with my teeth as I helped him undress, leaving a trail of clothes on the floor. His tie and shirt were removed in a rush with our lips sticking into a French kiss, I fumbled with his belt while his hands were exploring my ass. Rubbed my body against his while kneeling to pull down his pants, leaving him with a pretty big bulge showing through his boxers. My hands rubbed it over the stretchy fabric, I felt his cock pulsate like a snake and grabbed the edge of his boxers to pull them down. His cock sprang up fiercely, pointing right at my mouth. It smelled of man, a bit too big to fit comfortably into my mouth, I blew it quickly moving his foreskin up and down. Pulling it away I passed the tip of my tongue around the tip, felt him shudder under my tongue and moved my mouth along the shaft to swallow as much as I could take. I loved that feeling of a hard cock in my mouth and his pre-cum wetting the tip, salty taste of man. I stood up to quickly fumble into my bag, to find the condom I knew was there, just to quickly return to his cock and unroll it with my hands, I looked up while swallowing his cock another time, he looked so excited. How different could it be? I kissed him hard to let him feel his own taste into my mouth, I love that. Sharing each other's taste in a kiss is one of the most erotic things for me. Clinging out tongues he pushed me on the bed and quickly spread my legs. His face hid between my legs, savoring the scent of my pussy and licking drops of juices. Then he raised up and without too many ceremonies sank into me with one fluid motion, I kept my breath and hugged his back with my legs. I was so ready for his cock to open me up and give me the fuck I needed. Holding up on his hands he started fucking my cunt quickly, my sighs raising blow after blow. I knew it was going to be quick, we were both too excited. We let go of all inhibition and openly yelled our pleasure, desperate for relief. The bed started squeaking under our moves, my clit was in flame and I could imagine my juices soaking his crotch. He raised up and kept pumping while watching me, my boobs wobbling up and down, my body arching. It was an explosion, a firework of pleasure that made my body shake under his blows. Another and another, my body arched against his, enjoying the last few sparks of pleasure leaving the bodies of two exhausted strangers laying one on the other. The morning after the maid found a "Room 431" paper on the desk and wondered what reason was to write it on a paper when it's already on the key holder. There are some odd people at the world. Room 431, an Audiostory This story is copyrighted ©, all rights reserved. *** * * * * * Click Here to listen: .mp3 format or .ogg format. (8.5 min/mp3) * * * * * Room 431, Out in the Country * * * * * Click Here to listen: .mp3 format or .ogg format. (9 min/mp3) * * * * * This story and its audio are copyrighted ©, all rights reserved. If you wish to use it please contact the author. * "Error 628: connection has been terminated by remote computer before being..." did it matter? I glanced at the time on my laptop, 8.32 pm. It was too early to go to sleep, especially as I wasn't even tired. My connection did not want to cooperate in that little corner of the world, and the thought of taking my car and driving to the closest town to find a signal wasn't a tempting one. Sure, there was a pub in town, but I wasn't in mood for the noise, the chatter and all that came with it, including the stares, because I knew as an attractive Greek woman I wouldn't go unnoticed. I looked at the pale screen in front of me. Could I work offline? Of course I could. Not that I was in the mood to work at such an hour, cut off from the world. I would rather have looked for someone to chat, naughty or not, just someone to make me feel connected to the rest of the world, without having to deal with it in person. Sitting on the bed I closed the laptop and rested my back against the headboard. What to do? There was not even a TV to take my mind off my situation. A naughty idea went through my head; could I? After all, it was all I could do...I stood and walked to my baggage to retrieve two plastic toys. In the last few months I had given up my former habits; now cheap plastic toys would regularly find their way into my baggage. I had bought a plastic dildo, all smooth and with a neat head that resembled the real thing, and a soft jelly butt plug. Returning to the bed, I lay down with my hips propped up over a pillow and pulled up my nightie over my breasts, uncovering my naked body. How good would it be if I had a lover with me. Not someone in particular, not a real guy, but the guy of my dreams. I imagined his warm smile when he reached for the plug, seizing it, making me feel lost in his hands. It seemed too big in my small hand -- how would it fit into my ass? My other hand fingered my clit slowly, like my imaginary lover would nibble at my slit. My legs were spread open, everything exposed. I felt tingles run down my spine like my body was just waking up, and the entrance of my pussy quivered in anticipation. I kept working my fingers around my most tender spots and collected moisture to at last touch my asshole. Oh I loved to be touched there, it was so sensitive, giving me shivers. My finger moved in circles around my puckered anus, enjoying the tingling feeling. Then I grabbed the plug, and after placing a dollop of lubricant on the tip, positioned it against my hole and pushed. I knew it was not enough lubricant -- it was enough to slip in, yes, but not to overcome all resistance, and I love to feel the friction of the soft yet solid jelly object slipping past my sphincter. The first round bulge of the plug, the smallest, slipped into my ass. I wondered if my invisible lover would have had a naughty smile at the scene. Without hesitating much I pushed in the second bulge of the toy. It did not cause me pain, but it stretched me a bit. I gasped for air and closed my eyes with the sensation of being opened up. My ass clenched on the jelly toy, aware that bulge was still smaller than a real cock. Hmmm, a real cock. I stopped for a moment. Holding the plug in place with one hand, I let the finger on my clit work frantically. The idea of having a hard piece of meat shoved up my insides made me feel so hot, so sinfully dirty. My anal ring clung nicely around the plug. I craved more, the last knuckle of the plug. It was the biggest, and wide enough to resemble a real cock. I started pushing it in, slowly, trying to force it then pulling it out to let the muscle rest, then pushing again...I was slowly relaxing my ass to accept the biggest bulge. My ass was feeling so hot, I was so hot, every part of me was tingling. Having nearly forgotten the other toy, I grabbed it and switched on the vibration. Aah yes...yes...one big toy was about to invade my asshole, and another was vibrating on my clit. I felt so dirty, yet so excited. I pushed more and the plug stretched my ass at its widest point. I gasped, but I knew the best was yet to come. When the widest bulge stretched my inner ring I felt like exploding. It popped in with that sort of pain that seems unbearable for a moment, and then turns into deep pleasure. I plunged the vibrator deep into my pussy. The deep contact made me shiver; how would it have been if my imaginary lover was there, stretching my ass wide and plunging deep into my slit. I furiously fucked my own cunt with the plastic toy and soon the tingling in my clit became unbearable. Curling my toes I let out a loud sigh and deep pleasure took a hold of my body, making me want to squirm away at the strength of it. My nipples hardened as if my lover was sucking them, and I lay quiet for a moment, waiting for the first wave of pleasure to pass. It passed quickly, and I was hungry for more. I slowly withdrew the vibrator from my pussy, with all my juices it surely did not need more lubrication. I gripped on the edge of the butt plug, popping it out of my ass. I felt my hole gaping from the abrupt extraction, but I had more in mind. Wasting no more time, I placed the vibrator on my asshole. The head was wider than the plug, it would stretch my further. My hand pushed the toy further against my hole, it stretched, not enough. And then I was there, feeling suspended in that limbo between pain and pleasure, in which it is impossible to discern one from the other. My ass stretched around the wide head of the dildo while my juicy empty pussy was waiting for more. It was my favorite moment, especially when I pushed it all the way in and it would plop inside, finally giving relief to my battered asshole. Then I pulled it out, my ass stretching again and even more when I pushed it in, I was sore and feeling so good, I kept fucking my own asshole with the dildo and rubbed my clit in slow lazy motions. Yes...it felt so good...I panted hard and waited, feeling the next wave building up from deep in my ass. It took a hold of me like a tidal wave and it crashed. I moaned loudly, took another last deep plunge into my ass before losing grip of my toy, and just let the orgasm shake me with pleasure. Panting hard I fucked my ass in furious strokes until the last wave left me spent and content. Room 502 Fresh out of the jungles of Vietnam, I disembarked from the plane in San Francisco and caught a cab to the Greyhound Bus Station. Had to wait an hour and a half for a bus to take me to Salina, Kansas. A tad over a day and a half later, just as the sun was setting, I was standing on the front porch of my folks' house. I had my right hand raised, ready to knock on the door when I remembered I still had my key from when I was still at home hanging from a boot string necklace I had around my neck. I took off the necklace, inserted the key in the key hole and turned the knob. Hoping to surprise them, I cautiously pushed the door open and slipped inside. "So far, so good," I thought as I closed it behind me and turned the lock. I was headed for the kitchen when I heard my mother screaming. I turned and headed for the stairs. I took them three at a time, reached the top and sprinted down the hallway to my parents' bedroom. Without any hesitation on my part, I shoved the door open and saw my dad, his hands around Mom's neck, pressing her naked body against the far wall, her feet dangling a couple of inches above the carpeted floor. My mind went blank. The last thing I remember clearly was putting my hands together, raising them high into the air and slamming them down on the back of my dad's neck with all the force I could muster. When I finally came to my senses, Mom and I were sitting on the edge of her bed, my arms wrapped around her still naked body. I caressed the back of her head as she sobbed into my shoulder. At a loss for words, I watched, almost mesmerized at the sight of her pink-tipped, heavy breasts rising and falling with her every breath. Gradually, her sobbing ceased until all I heard from her was an occasional sniffle and a short sigh. "I'm sorry, Mom," I told her as I leaned in to give her a quick kiss on her cheek. At the sound of my voice, Mom turned her face towards me. It was like someone had glued our lips together and we were powerless to break contact. I embraced her and pulled her in closer. She responded with an urgency I would have expected from a lover; not from my own mother! Mom turned slightly and wrapped her arms around my waist, pressing her nearest breast into my chest. The softness of my semi-erect cock had transformed itself into a rigid, swollen piece of man flesh. She breathed deeply and noisily through her nose. Her mouth opened slightly. Her tongue was now pressing against my lips. I welcomed her oral invasion, sucking her tongue deep inside my mouth. After a mere moment of submission, I became the aggressor and soon, my own tongue was pushing hers back to where it had come from. I cradled a breast in my left hand and squeezed it ever so slightly. Mom groaned as my thumb circled the hard, swollen nipple. Her body trembled in what she would later describe as the first orgasm she'd had in years. Suddenly, Mom pulled her face from mine. "This is so wrong," she gasped. I dropped my hand from my mother's breast but, still held her close. We maintained our embrace for several seconds before she pulled away from my embrace. Now on her feet, she ran for the bathroom, slammed the door behind her and locked it. I sat on the edge of her bed, my head still full of desire. I went to the bathroom door and knocked. "Go away," Mom shouted. "Leave me alone." "Just wanna talk," I said. "There's nothing to talk about. Go away!" Due to the lateness of the hour, I went to my room, undressed down to my boxers and climbed into bed. I pulled the covers over me and went to sleep, holding my semi-erect rod in my hand. I was awakened just after midnight, my mother's screams bouncing off the walls. Thinking that dad had come back to finish what he'd started, I jumped out of bed and ran towards my mother's room. The light of a full moon filtering through the window let me see that dad hadn't returned. For that, I breathed a sigh of relief. Mom, lay in bed, thrashing about, screaming, "No! Jasper, no!" over and over again. Her movements had thrown the covers off her. She was wearing a black, sheer babydoll crop top with matching granny panties. Despite the situation, my cock began to harden. I shook her gently. "Mom," I whispered soothingly. "It's alright, Mom. I'm here." That calmed her down considerably but, she was still sobbing and talking in her sleep. "I didn't do anything wrong," she said. "I didn't." The sobbing, accompanied by a river of tears continued. So, I did the only thing I could think of. I covered her near nude body, went to the other side of the bed and climbed in beside her. I scooted over until we were spooning, put my arm around her and cradled her breast in my hand. Immediately, her sobbing stopped and her breathing returned to normal. I fell asleep with her breast in my hand and my aroused flesh pressed up against the crack of her ass. ----- I awoke sometime later on my back, a feeling of warmth surrounding my swollen manhood. Still half asleep and thinking I was alone in my own bed, I reached for my aching shaft, fully intent upon relieving the pressure that was building up in my balls. It was when I touched my mother's bobbing head that I remembered where I was and how I had come to be in her bed. When Mom pulled back and let my stiffness fall from her mouth, I put both my hands on the back of her head and asked her to continue. "No, son," she said. "I can't." "You can't just leave me hanging, Mom," I told her. "It feels so good. And I was about to cum." She hesitated for a moment and then allowed me to slide my cock back into her mouth. "Only because I feel like I owe you something for rescuing me," she said just before she took me deep. I heard her gag when the head entered her throat. But that didn't stop her from enveloping the entire length of my pulsing rod until her nose was touching my patch of pubic hairs. Her throat muscles constricted around the head, causing an involuntary shiver to consume me. I could feel my balls lurching as they prepared to send my molten lava into Mom's mouth. She must have felt something also because she pulled back until her lips were surrounding the crown of my one eyed snake, wrapped a hand around the shaft of my straining erection and began to stroke it while her tongue lightly caressed the head. My warning that I was about to cum came in the form of a loud growl. I pushed my throbbing manhood as far into her mouth I could. I grunted as my first eruption coated the back of her mouth. I could feel Mom swallowing each time my balls pushed another load of my hot seed up and out of my pulsing rod until I had nothing more to offer. Mom licked me one last time before she moved up to lay beside me. I could taste myself on her tongue as we kissed. I pushed her babydoll top up and over her breasts and captured a hard, pointed bud between my lips and sucked gently, using the tip of my tongue to flick its tip. "Oh, god," mom moaned when I switched to her other nipple and gave it the same treatment. After about a minute my mouth left her breasts and I kissed the smooth, naked skin just below. Several times I licked the valley between those beautifully formed mammary glands before I began my downward journey to my ultimate prize. I paused at her belly button, licked the area around it a couple of times before I kissed it, each time penetrating it with the tip of my tongue. Mom made a hissing sound as she sucked air into her lungs. When I left her belly button and started to go lower, she placed her hands on the back of my head. "No, son," she said in a voice barely above a whisper. I stopped what I was doing and looked up at her. "I can't let you do this," she told me. Temporarily thwarted in my efforts to give her the same kind of pleasure she had given me, my open mouth hovered just above the waist band of her panties. "Why not?" I asked. "It's wrong, son." "I wanna do what dad either couldn't or wouldn't do," I countered. Mom remained silent. "How many time have you had to fake it with dad?" I asked. "Too many times," she said, her voice barely above that of a whisper. I slid my hands inside the leg bands of her panties. "You won't ever have to fake it with me," I told her as I used the forefingers of both hands to massage her clit. "Nooooo, baby," Mom whined. I ignored her feeble pleas and continued to massage her sweet spot. I pressed my face against her panty covered mound and lightly nibbled at her erect love button. Goddam! It was twice as big as any other clit I had ever seen! Mom's no's were now yes's as she urged me on. "Do it," she hissed. "Do what your father never could." I continued nibbling at Mom's clit while I slid my hands out of the leg holes. I grabbed the waist band and quickly pulled her panties down to her knees. I released my hold on her clit long enough to pull them completely off. Mom spread her legs in order to give me better access to her sex. "Eat me," she said. "Lick your mommy's pussy, son. Make me cum." I decided to ignore her request for the time being. Instead, I got on my knees and sat back on my heels. I lifted her left foot and brought it to my face. I kissed her ankle and then I lightly licked at her instep before kissing my way across the top of her foot until I reached her big toe. Slowly, I sucked that toe into my mouth, treating it much like she'd recently treated my cock. I made circles around it with my tongue and, after several seconds, I let it slide past my lips. Mom moaned her pleasure when I used my thumb to massage the bottom of her foot. While I was massaging her foot, one by one, I paid homage to her other toes; licking and sucking each one individually. I switched and, after about five minutes of intense worshipping of her other foot, I moved on towards my goal, leaving a trail of saliva up the inside of her leg. Mom moaned even louder when I began to lick along the crease that separated her thigh from her vagina. Taking care not to come in contact with her clit, I gently licked along the top of her dense forest of hair until I reached her other crease. After lining it with the wetness of my tongue a couple of times, I pushed her legs high in the air and pressed the tip of my tongue against the wrinkled skin of her ass hole. I could feel Mom's body trembling as I licked the area from that tiny opening to the edge of her hairy lips. Her chest rose and fell as she struggled to get air into her lungs. I could smell her arousal as I slowly slipped my tongue inside her moist opening. Mom's hips bucked with the rhythm of a woman who was quickly reaching her peak. "That's it, baby," she said, her voice husky with desire. "Fuck me with your tongue. After several thrusts of my tongue into her vagina, I turned my attention to her clit, capturing it between my lips and nibbling on its protruding tip. It took only a few seconds to push her over the edge. Suddenly, Mom's legs shot straight up into the air as she screamed her release. Her whole body stiffened as her orgasm consumed her. She grabbed my ears and held my face against her quivering quim. "Oh, fuck," she shouted. "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!!" Mom began thrashing about like a wild woman. She let her legs fall over my shoulders. Her heels were pounding my back mercilessly. The more I sucked on her pleasure button, the harder she pounded my back. Just when I began to think she was going to break a rib or two, her orgasm peaked. Mom's hips lifted off the bed as she shoved her mound in my face. She stiffened and, except for an occasional tremor, she lay still. One long sigh escaped from her lips. "Wow!" she said, her voice so raspy I hardly recognized it. I slid her legs off my shoulders and lay down beside her. I took Mom in my arms and held her loosely, caressing her arm and shoulder. Mom kissed me lightly. "Thank you, son. I needed that." I smiled and said, "I love you, Mom." "I love you, too, son," she told me. ---- It was nearly 10:30 when I awoke. It took a few seconds to wipe the sleep from my eyes. It took a bit longer to get my bearings and realize that I wasn't dreaming. I was in my mother's bed. That's when it all came flooding back to me. Mom and I had spent half the night having oral sex. I threw the covers off and swung my feet over the side of the bed. Just as I started to stand, I noticed a sheet of paper, folded in half, laying on the night stand. My name was written on it. I picked it up and unfolded it. It was a note from Mom: Son, Last night was wonderful. You made me feel something I have never ever felt before. We caught each other in a moment of weakness and we filled each other's needs. What we did was wrong on so many levels, and we must not let it go any further. If you feel it is necessary, we can discuss this in detail when I get home. Love, Mom My heart sank. I couldn't believe what I had just read. I read it twice more, my mind twisted around the fact that what Mom and I had done last night would never happen again; nor would we ever take our love to the next level. I hurried to the bathroom, took a shower and put on some fresh clothes. I had to confront her about the note. I hurried downstairs, picked up the phone and called a cab. Half an hour later, I was walking through the doors of the B. F. Barkley building where my mother worked. I rode the elevator to the twelfth floor and exited. Her office was directly across the hall. I opened the door, went inside and up to Mom's secretary's desk. "My mom in?" I asked. "She is but, she asked not to be disturbed," the anorexic looking redhead told me. I started for the door to Mom's inner office. Ignoring the secretary's demands that I not bother my mom, I opened the door and stepped inside. Mom looked very surprised to see me. I locked the door behind me and made the ten or so steps across the floor to where she was sitting. Without saying anything, I took her by the shoulders, helped her to stand and then turned her to face me. Mom didn't resist when I kissed her. She didn't do anything but stand there while I probed her lips with my tongue. I slid my hands down to her ass and pulled her against me. I rubbed the hardness of my arousal against her mound. A groan came from deep down inside her. Almost unperceptively at first, I felt her move against me. Soon, Mom's mouth was open and she allowed my tongue to slide inside. For a few seconds, she was the aggressor, using her tongue to push mine back inside my mouth, exploring every inch of my gum line she could reach. Now she was groaning and grinding against me like she meant it. Her hands roamed up and down my back. A few seconds later and she was pushing away from me. "No," Mom told me, breathlessly. "I told you in the note . . ." "To hell with your note," I growled. "You expect me to believe that thing after what we did last night? Don't tell me you didn't enjoy every second of it." Mom turned and stared out the window. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I . . . I . . . did," she said. "Then what's the problem?" I asked. "It's wrong, son. A mother shouldn't do things like that with her own son." I stepped up behind her and put my arms around her, cradling her breasts in my hands. I gave them a slight squeeze. A shudder went through her when I nibbled on her earlobe. "How can it be so wrong," I whispered, "when it feels so good?" She extricated herself from my embrace, went back to her desk and turned to face me. A single tear rolled down her left cheek. "I want you, son," she said. "More than I have ever wanted anyone or anything in my whole life. But, it just isn't right." She shook her head. "It'll never work." I stepped up to her and embraced her once again. I kissed her and, this time, she was quick to respond. Even before our lips made contact, Mom pulled my face to hers and, in an instant, she captured my mouth with a hungry urgency that made my cock swell even larger than it already was. She nibbled at my lips and teased me with her wet tongue, pressing it against my lips and pulling it back each time I opened my mouth to accept its advances. I put my hands on her thighs and pushed the hem of her skirt up until it was bunched just above the swell of her hips. I pushed them over her cotton panties and filled them with her soft, pliant butt cheeks; kneading them, massaging them, caressing them. We were both breathing heavily into each other's mouth, neither of us willing to pull away from our unholy connection. Hungry with desire, I raised my hands a bit higher, took hold of the waist band and began to pull them down off her hips. I had the about mid-thigh when Mom broke our kiss. She placed her hands on mine. "No, son," was all she said. "But, Mom. I've got to have you." Mom shook her head. I stepped back, unhappy and disappointed. It must have shown on my face because she immediately placed her hand on my rigid shaft and squeezed it softly. "I just meant, not here, sweetie. Don't want anyone to hear us. Besides, we don't have time." "But . . .," I began. Mom pressed her finger against my lips. "I have an important meeting with my senior partner, Mr. Jordan, to strategize for an upcoming court case. After that, I have an appointment that I can't get out of." Feeling the imagined rejection, I gave my mother a quick kiss and turned to leave. "Wait." Her soothing voice and the delicate touch of her hand on my shoulder made me turn back around. Mom pulled her panties back up and let her skirt fall back down her creamy thighs. She opened a desk drawer and picked up her purse. She opened it, put her hand inside and retrieved her wallet. She took out a hundred dollars and handed it to me. I took the money from her and hesitantly asked, "What's this for?" "Like I said, son. I have some things to do and I can't just reschedule these appointments like I can others." "And?" I left the question hanging, waiting for Mom to continue. "And," she continued. "use that money to get a cab to Jammer's and wait for me and we'll get a bite to eat while we discuss our future." "So, I have to drink coffee for three or four hours waiting for you to show?" Mom stroked my cheek and took a credit card from her wallet. "No, baby. The Marriott is right across the street." She handed the card to me. "Use this to get us a room." I couldn't hide my enthusiasm. "All right!" I exclaimed. "Just text me the room number." Forty-five minutes later, I sent Mom a simple text: Room 502. ---- At about six in the evening I awoke to the sound of the hotel room door being opened. Through the slits of my sleep filled eyes I saw my mother coming towards me. The bellhop was behind her, carrying a garment bag and two small suitcases. He hung the garment bag in the closet and laid the suitcases on the nearest bed. I waited for him to leave and then I gave her a hug. "My goodness, son," she said as she extricated herself from my embrace. "You act like you haven't seen me in ten years." "Can I help it if I miss you and want to be with you all the time?" Mom smiled at me. "Easy, son. I was only joking." Mom dropped her purse on a nearby chair. "I had to stop by the house and get some things," she said. "Looks like we'll be staying here a few days." "Oh. How come?" I asked. "I gave your father three days to get his things and clear out." "Good for you, Mom." I pulled her close and kissed her. As our tongues were doing battle, I began to massage her breast. Mom broke contact. She took a step backwards and began to undo the buttons on her blouse. "No, son," she said when I tried to help her. "We haven't the time. I need to take a shower before we go down to get something to eat." I stood there gawking as she got naked, my throbbing erection threatening to punch its way through my shorts and my pants. Mom stepped out of her panties and tossed them at me. She smiled but, said nothing when I quickly pressed the gusset to my nose. Room 502 Mom opened her suitcase and took out a black, lacy thong and a matching half cup bra, turned and went into the bathroom. As soon as I heard the shower running, I, too, got naked. I peeked around the doorway to make sure she wasn't looking my way and then cautiously made my way to the shower. The glass door was already beginning to fog up. I opened the door just wide enough to get inside. Mom had just started to shampoo her hair when I placed my hands on hers and said, "Let me do that, Mom." Mom said nothing. She just sighed and dropped her arms to her sides. I slowly worked the shampoo into her scalp and then, using my fingernails, working from front to back, lightly scratched her head. I swear she began to purr like a kitten. After rinsing her hair I turned Mom around to face me. I pressed my forehead to hers and began to massage her scalp. Words poured out of my mouth; words that expressed how I felt about her. It was refreshing not having to repress these feelings. "I love you, Mom," I began. "I can hardly remember a time when I didn't want you. You are soooo precious to me. That rat bastard that calls himself a father and a husband will never know what he is missing." Mom looked at me with those big eyes of hers. She started to say something but, I kept on talking. "Almost since the beginning of time, I have wanted to hold you and caress you, kiss you and make love to you. I've seen how dad has treated you over the years. Somehow you found the strength to endure. You don't ever have to be afraid again, Mom. I'm your protector now and I'm gonna treat you like the princess you are." A tiny whimper escaped from between her lips. Mom placed a hand on each cheek and pulled my face to hers. Her lips captured mine with an urgency that expressed her love for me in a far better way than words could ever express. Her tongue slid between my parted lips, thrusting, twisting and turning inside my own mouth. My hands slid down from her head until they were resting on the swell of her hips. I filled them with the meaty globes of her backside and pulled her sex into mine. I could feel the coarseness of her hairy mound caressing the length of my iron-hard tumescence as I rubbed against her. Silently, Mom turned and leaned towards the shower wall. Using the handles of the faucet for support, she leaned over wiggled her ass at me. I quickly spread her cheeks apart and placed the head of my hot flesh against the swollen lips of her sex. "Take me, son," she said. "Make me yours." "Mine forever," I said. I could feel the slick wetness of her excitement as I eased myself through the doors of her womanhood. I stopped when I felt her inner lips on the crown of my arousal, savoring the feel of being inside my own mother for the first time since she'd given birth to me almost twenty-four years ago. Grunting loudly, Mom pushed against me, impaling herself on my hard flesh. I pulled back slowly until, once again, I was barely inside her. I lunged hard, burying myself balls deep inside her hot, wet sheath. I reached around her, searching for her button of joy, only to find her hand already there. I slid both hands up her firm, flat stomach until they were cradling her breasts and rolled her nipples between my fingers. "Harder!" she cried. "Pinch them harder!" I pulled hard on those plump little buds, stretching them until I thought they would tear away from her lush mountainous peaks and, still, she begged me to pinch them even harder. I pinched and pulled each nipple, one after the other, in rhythm to my hard, thrusting cock. The noise of our flesh slapping together seemed to echo and bounce off the shower walls, our hard and urgent coupling forcing the breath out of our lungs in loud grunts. Mom gave as good as she got, pushing against me each time I went deep. Her grunts soon turned into moans, signaling her impending climax. I was getting close myself. Mom screamed her release as the walls of her hot, wet flesh began to convulse around my straining shaft. Her body went rigid as she reached her peak. I thrust one last time and remained deep, shuddering as my hot, molten lava spilled out and coated the walls of her still clutching vagina. We remained still, unmoving, for what seemed like forever. It was as though we were glued together. It wasn't until my wilting member slipped out of her hot sex that I stepped back. "Oh, my!" Mom sighed as she straitened herself and turned to face me. Love and desire was still evident in her face as she kissed me hard and deep She took a step back, grabbed the soap and washed my cock. In a matter of seconds, my cock was hard again. I pushed forward, intent on fucking her fist. "Oh, no, you don't," she giggled as she took her hand away. "You get out of here right now or we'll never get anything to eat." I stepped from the shower and went to put on my clothes. I sat on the bed, waiting nervously for Mom to appear. The combination of us making love in the shower and me imagining what she would look like dressed in that frilly underwear she'd taken with her when she went to take a shower had my cock still standing at about half mast. But, that quickly changed the moment she came out of the bathroom. Mom did a pirouette when I whistled at her. "You like?" she asked. Then she looked at my tented pants. "I guess we know the answer to that one," she said with a giggle and a smile. I was momentarily at loss for words. I'm sure I must have looked like a simpleton standing there with my mouth wide open, drooling. I just nodded and watched her as she dressed. After dressing, Mom stepped over to where I was sitting on the bed. "Is that thing still hard?" she asked as she went to her knees in front of me. "We can't have you going out in public looking like that. Now, can we?" Mom pulled down my zipper, reached inside my pants and pulled out my throbbing erection. I couldn't help but groan as she used both hands to stroke it. I pushed forward through her fists and was about to pull back for another thrust when I felt her lips at the tip of my cock. She impaled her face on that hot tool, never once gagging when the head went into her throat. She swallowed several times, causing her throat to massage the invading mushroom shaped glans. Finally, she pulled back until her lips were circling the crown. Mom stroked me while her tongue did circles around the head. In less than five minutes, she had me spurting my juices in her mouth. She kept her mouth on me until I was no longer spurting or dribbling and swallowed it all in one gulp. She stuffed my softening member back inside my pants and pulled up the zipper. She used my trembling knees for support as she got to her feet. "Hope that does the trick," she said. "If it don't, can I come back for more?" "Ha, ha," she said. "In your dreams." Downstairs, in the restaurant, we were shown to a booth near the rear of the dining area. Mom sat down and I slid in after her. While we were waiting for our food, she turned to look at me. She needn't have said anything because I could see the love and desire in her face as she told me she loved me. We made small talk until the waiter brought our food. We hardly spoke a word while we devoured our food. When our plates were cleared, we set them aside and toasted each other with our wine glasses. "Guess you're wondering who that important client was," she said. I shrugged. "Not really. Your business is your business. You don't have to tell everything you know." "I know, son. But, I think you'll be interested to know who this one was." There was no way to miss the excitement in her voice and the gleam in her eyes. "Okay," I said. "Who was it?" She placed her hand over mine. "It was your father." "It was dad?" She nodded excitedly. "Yep. Your dad." "What did he want?" Mom smiled. "It's not what he wanted. It's what I wanted." She squeezed my hand. "And got!" "And what was that, pray tell?" "I called him just before you came up to see me. Told him that I wanted a divorce." "Bet that went over like a fart in church," I said. "At first, it did. He changed his tune after I told him that I had proof positive that he was screwing two of his clients." My eyebrows arched in surprise. "And him a psychiatrist. Musta scared the crap outta him." "Sure did, son. Sure did." Mom squeezed my hand again. "What did you tell him?" I asked excitedly. "Told him I wanted the house. Then I told him I wanted a cashier's check to be sitting on the dining room table waiting for me when I came home. Half of what was in his savings account." "What else?" I asked when she paused to breathe. "He's gonna sell his boat and the condo he has down in South Miami Beach and to give me half of that; also in a cashier's check." "Didn't know about his condo and boat." "He didn't think I did either, son. Guess he'll have to find someplace else to screw his whores." "Damn, Mom! You don't just bark. You bite! Hard!" "And . . . last but, not least; he's going to sign the title to his Mercedes over to you." I gulped. "The coupe?" Mom laughed. "The only Mercedes he owns." I leaned in and kissed Mom quickly on the lips. She drew back and looked around to see if anyone was looking our way. I started laughing; not loud, just barely to where she could hear me. "What's so funny, son?" "Just thinking about something that happened in Vietnam." "Didn't think anything funny could come out of that place." "Well, it did. I was on a patrol with the rest of my company when we got ambushed. I ducked behind a fallen tree for protection and began returning fire. I got to thinking about you and how much I have wanted you over the years. I couldn't help it but, I started to fantasize about making love to you. Made me get hard. There I was in the jungle, in the middle of a firefight, thinking about screwing my mother and sporting the biggest boner I have ever had in my life." Mom placed her hand on my crotch and rubbed my cock. "Bigger than the one you had just before we came downstairs?" I nodded. "Bigger than the one I have in my hands?" I nodded again. Just then, the waiter came by to refill our wine glasses. Mom waved him off and asked for the bill. "Better walk as close behind me as possible," Mom told me as we got up to leave. "Don't want everyone to see your pants sticking out." I followed her out of the restaurant and down the short hallway to the elevator. Mom pushed the button and we waited. I looked to my right and then to my left. Seeing no one, I reached around my mother and filled my hands with her breasts. I kissed her on the back of her neck and pushed my aching rod against her back side. Mom pushed back. She ground her ass against me. She was already breathing rather heavily as she spoke in a whisper. "Keep that up, son, and we won't ever make it back to the room." The sound of the elevator coming to a stop drove us apart. The door opened and we stepped inside. I pushed a button. The door closed and, soon, we were on our way to the fifth floor. Mom and I held hands, interlocking our fingers, and stared silently at the elevator door. I don't know what she was thinking about. But, as for me, my mind was on making love to my mother. Imagining all the different positions that were humanly possible certainly kept my straining shaft at the ready. We almost ran out of the elevator when the door finally opened on our floor. Nervously, I took the key card from my wallet and inserted it in the door lock. I pushed the door open and stepped inside, waiting for Mom before closing it behind her. Mom was facing me when I turned around. Immediately, her lips found mine. Her tongue plunged into my mouth, feinting and jabbing as it mated with mine. My hands found her ass cheeks and I pulled her in close while she bunched her skirt up around her waist. I ripped her panties into shreds as I tore them from her body while she unzipped my pants and brought my rock hard cock out into the open. I turned us around. I grabbed her hips and bent slightly at the knees and lifted her until the delicate softness of her outer lips was resting against my throbbing erection. Mom hooked her left leg around my right one and lifted her right leg. She laid it on my hip and said, "Fuck me, son. Shove your cock up my cunt and fuck me." I gripped her right thigh to give her some support while I straightened back up The slippery wetness of my mother's arousal allowed me easy entrance into the warm, dark haven where she had carried me for nearly nine months all those years ago. Mom wrapped her arms around my neck and leaned back slightly. I rocked her back and forth, pushing my stiffness as deep as possible with each thrust. I heard her moan and say something unintelligible as we ground against each other. Mom removed her right arm from around my neck and quickly slipped it between our undulating bodies. I could feel her fingernails scraping lightly at my stiffness as she rapidly stroked her clit. We were both grunting loudly each time the head of my cock connected with her cervix. I drew back until Mom's shoulders were the only part of her body touching the door. Immediately, she began circling her hips in a clockwise direction, picking up speed with each movement. Soon, our hips were a blur as we moved against each other. I could feel Mom trembling as her climax slowly overtook her. The walls of her silky pink heaven began convulsing around my thrusting pole as her breathing became more ragged with each breath she took. Mom stiffened and cried out loudly. "Fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuck, It's here, son. I'm coming." Mom lay limp in my arms as I turned and carried her to the bed. I gently laid down beside her and held her close. Finally, she opened her eyes and looked at me. She wrapped her hand around my stiffness and said, "Had I known it could be this good, I would have left your father the day you turned eighteen." She squeezed me lightly. "Whoever taught you about pleasing a woman certainly did a great job." Mom released her hold on my cock and scooted up in bed until her head was resting on a pillow. I did the same. We lay side by side on our backs staring at the ceiling. She raised herself up on her elbows and looked at my trembling cock. "Does that thing ever go down?" she asked. "Sometimes," I replied. Then she had a light bulb moment. "You haven't cum yet, have you?" "That's okay, Mom. I enjoyed being able to please you." "Nonsense," she said as she got to her knees. She turned slightly and wrapped a hand around my hot, bulging shaft and pulled the foreskin down. Slowly, she moved her face closer and closer to my cock until I could feel her warm breath blowing on the sensitive head. A dollop of saliva fell from her mouth and landed on my cockhead. Her stroking hand quickly spread it over my pulsing rod while lowering her head until her mouth was less than an inch away from my helmeted soldier. I lifted my hips and pushed my rod up into her mouth. It took a monumental effort not to cum at the delicious feel of her sweet lips as they parted and came to rest at the crown. I had somehow managed to stave off the inevitable for a while longer. The softness of Mom's tongue as it circled my glans gave me a tingling sensation way down deep in my groin. The feeling quickly pushed its way upwards until I felt my balls contract. Before I even had a chance to tell Mom I was cumming, three loads of my spunk had already exploded inside her mouth. She continued to lick and stroke until I had nothing else to offer, then turned to face me. Mom opened her cum-filled mouth; so full that I could hardly see her tongue. She smiled as she ingested the entire load with a single gulp. "That was so good, mom," I told her as she once again lay down beside me. I tasted bit of myself when I hugged her and gave her a deep, soulful kiss. "All for you, son. All for you." Things got silent for a moment. At first, I thought she had fallen asleep but, when I turned my head to look, I saw that she was crying. I quickly kissed the tears coming from the eye nearest me. "Whatsamatter, Mom? Did I do something wrong?" She answered with a slight shaking of her head. "Then, why are you crying?" "Hold me, baby," she said. I turned and wrapped my arm around her and waited. Several minutes passed before she stopped crying enough to speak coherently. "That's the first time I have had a cock in my mouth since you were an infant." She paused a second and then continued to speak. "After your father beat me half to death for not 'doing it right', I swore I'd never do it again. Then you came along and I couldn't help myself." She sniffled. "A host of memories came flooding back. Most of them bad ones." I brushed a wayward strand of hair from in front of her eyes. "Dad's not here anymore. I am. And I promise you that I will treat you with nothing but respect for as long as we live." Mom stroked my cheek as she whispered. "I hope that means forever." "Forever," I whispered back at her. "Forever." Room 503 Copyrighted 2001. This story may not be posted, traded, or published without the written permission of Suzie Samuels. Bernard had been a paraplegic since the ice storm of 1999. On that twisty-turny section of I-95 in West Virginia he'd rolled his tractor-trailer rig down the side of the mountain. He had been less than three miles from home. So close but, so far. If only he could turn back the clock. For a long time he had railed on why fate had dealt him this horrific hand. Much of the time, he was filled with hate and morose for what he had lost. The truth was, he was lucky to be alive. Bernard had been a big strapping man of six feet give or take an inch or so. He’d been the solid outdoors type that kept himself in excellent shape. He had muscles in all the right places. His fellow truckers used to laugh at him when he’d carefully chose his meals making sure that he ate just the right balance of foods. If someone ordered coconut cream pie he'd gulp down his food and leave. He knew his weaknesses and he did not want to test his willpower to the breaking point. Bernard had been in love with the adventurous Sheila. He worshipped her, but they’d never married. Now he couldn't remember whose fault it was that they'd never formalized their living arrangement. It just never happened, not that the wedding ring would have made a whole lot of difference, but then he could have said he had been married. Bernard thought it might have made a difference. It would have added to his sense of martyrdom or so he supposed. They'd been together for several years; as long as the money and the good times rolled she'd stuck with him. Sheila had walked out when the Doc said, "sorry my boy, but life isn't fair and you're going to have to face the fact that you'll never walk again." Sobbing, Bernard had buried his face in his hands, his life shattered. He cried for what fate had stolen from him while in the prime of his life. At twenty-seven his whole world had crashed and burned just like his rig. How dare the Doctor say he was lucky to be alive? He expected to feel Sheila's hands encircle him as he wept. He expected her to cradle him to her bosom as she ran her hands through his light brown hair. He assumed she would keen with him, cooing in her melodious tone, "Bernie you'll be OK, I'm here. We'll make it." Nothing. Just the Doctor's monologue about why he was paralyzed and how life would be different but would continue, "Bernard you must remember, you're lucky to be alive at all, after that crash. But you can be retrained and you'll live a productive life, you'll see. We'll start your therapy and rehab right away. Honest Bernard things will work out" He wept. His heart was broken. He was inconsolable. Seven months and three days later, the rehab center graduated him. They proclaimed him ready to take his place as a productive member of society. They, his counselors, even had a job all lined up for him. He didn't go. His apartment was gone, the landlord and Sheila had cleaned him out. Having been an independent hauler, he, like many of his trucker-brothers, worked without adequate resources for rainy days, so there was little money to maintain the lifestyle he'd shared with Sheila. But of course she wasn't there, so what did it matter where he went or how he lived? He was just a shell. His rehabilitation counselor had called him emotionally bankrupt. He did have some disability insurance and if he was frugal he could get by without going to that hateful job. Fortunately the policy had given him enough that with careful budgeting he'd been able to rent what was called an efficiency apartment in an old building that had a working elevator. Well, it worked most of the time. When it didn't he was stuck in his apartment. Today he was stuck. But that was OK because he wasn't going anywhere. He was watching. On that rainy day he dismally looked around his apartment and he knew why they called them efficiency apartments. He could reach everything without moving. With a shrug he reconciled there was only himself and he seldom had any company so it was okay. He did miss the old place and he missed the freedom of the road even more. Mostly, though, he missed Sheila. He heard Sheila had married well within months of walking out on him. She had sent him an announcement, but it he didn't receive it until two weeks after he was released from the rehab center. It had taken a while for them to forward it on to him. He wished they hadn't bothered. He threw it in the garbage. Initially he wanted to hurt her but through prayer he had tried to reconcile her marriage. Bernard was lucky his apartment was on a corner and his living room was in the turret of the old place. He had a box seat to watch life. Sitting in the center he could watch the world go by. On sunny days it was a warm cozy place, but on days like today it was draughty. However he just wore his winter coat so he could people-watch and see and hear his beloved big rigs flying up and down the freeway just a block over. He was saving his money for a CB radio. Sitting in his wheelchair he could watch the kids go to school at the end of the block or the old women shuffling in and out of the church next door. In the opposite direction, down the block, was an old-fashioned community pub that had a patio and on nice days he could watch the old farts placing chess or Chinese checkers. Sometimes on his good days, he'd join them. Opposite him was a hotel. Fifty years ago when this had been a better section of town, more upscale, The Windsor Hotel had been the center of its social life. Now it looked liked a tired old dowager that was out of money but still attempted to put on the face of respectability. It was only five stories and since he was in the penthouse of his four-story building, he spent a lot of time watching the comings and goings at The Windsor. They made the best smelling French fries. When he received his disability check he’d dress in his Sunday best then splurge by ordering large fries, a rib-eye steak and a draft. For those few minutes every week he was a dime store millionaire when buying a couple of the hangers-on a draft also. They’d become his only friends. One of them would always push him home, though they seldom stayed. He would have enjoyed the company, but they could walk. He was alone. Occasionally one of his drinking buddies would wave up at him from the street. It made it all worthwhile. The first time he saw her, he was finishing his solitary lunch and the boys were swarming looking awaiting his statement, "the next round's on me." Across the bar cum dining room he watched as she stood with her back to him, but he knew. She was dressed to the nines in a full-length mink coat. Her hair was the same, still a mass of cascading flaming red curls. It looked like she'd lost weight, hard to tell with that coat, but her legs looked more slender. Her stance said, look at me. He didn't think she had seen him in the darkened room. It was enough that he had seen her. He knew it was his Sheila. His heart soared. He pushed back from the table, about to roll out to meet her, when she turned and walked out the door. His last glimpse of her was through the spray of the old- fashion fountain. "Sheila," the words died on his lips. His heart crashed. That day he didn't finish his lunch nor buy his buds a drink. He rolled himself back to his apartment through the February slush. No one volunteered to assist him and he was too proud to ask. The elevator was broke again and he had to stay his rage until the repairman was finished. That night he drank two beers, blowing the budget, but who cared. "Why was she there? Had she come to meet me and then lost her nerve?" He'd have called her, if he had a phone and if he knew her last name. Instead he mourned her all over again. He was bereft. The next time he saw her he'd just returned from his daily constitutional, his roll around the block. He watched her get out of an uptown cab and tiptoe into the Windsor through the slush. Bernard sat with his fingers crossed for several hours hoping against hope that he'd see her again. Finally he had to pee so bad his teeth were floating. At dusk he wheeled himself over and asked Paul on the front desk what room she was in. He was going to go knock on her door. He was sure he was there to see him. There was no one by that name registered. He wished he'd saved that announcement. But Paul, the friend that he was, told Bernard that she had left about two hours ago on the arm of a tall well-dressed older gentleman. Paul forestalled Bernard's question by saying, "my lips are sealed. Our guests deserve to have their privacy protected; it is The Windsor's policy." Leaning over the counter, he whispered, "but I'll tell you this much, even though I shouldn't. It was their third time this month." He smiled and condescendingly patted Bernard's hand. Bernard rolled out in a rage. He missed Paul saying, "next Wednesday, one o'clock." Paul shrugged and turned to his next paying client with a solicitous smile. "May I be of assistance sir?" Bernard was broken hearted. He'd been sure that Sheila was lurking around just trying to get up her nerve to seek him out. Well, that's what he tried to tell himself. Now he was curious. 'Why was she here on the other side of town? Why the Windsor?' he mused catching his image in the darkened windows. Normally he stopped his neighborhood surveillance at nightfall, supposedly to make some dinner for himself, but the truth of the matter was, he didn't like seeing the reflection of himself in the wheelchair. He watched. He waited. He ate. He even cleaned the windows as high as he could reach. He waited. He prayed he'd catch another glimpse of her. He waited. Good things come to those that wait! One week to the day, the weather was typical for March, snow on the ground in the morning but by noon it's too warm for a coat. He watched holding his breath as a Yellow Cab pulled up to the front door. The sun caught her red hair creating a halo as she exited the cab. She looked even more beautiful. She straightened her skin-tight green leather skirt by giving it a tug and then running her hands down over her thighs suggestively. Bernard remembered Sheila's love for all things leather. Just her actions evoked memories of her heady woman-scent combined with the leather's tannin, as he'd ease off her tight leather slacks. He was afraid to give into the urge to close his eyes and just relish in his memories of her scent. She might disappear. Sheila looked his way and shook her head letting the brisk breeze blow her fine hair off her face. Bernard hated to admit it but she looked radiant. She wheeled. She raised her hand in recognition. In her high heels she sashayed towards the tall older gent who was approaching. He looked familiar. Bernard paid him no attention; he had eyes only for his beloved. Sheila had always had the best looking legs and she still held the record, thin, almost dainty ankles that curved up into the well-defined calves of a dancer. Bernard remembered fondly her solid thighs without an ounce of fat and the softest skin on the inside of her thighs just where they met her bush. Her ass looked nicely rounded with absolutely no sag. His mouth watered thinking about the tart taste of her nectar. He hung his head in defeat. His life was over and she was living hers. The floodgates opened and he sobbed. Idly, through tear soaked eyelashes, he continued his vigil. Movement caught his eye. Lazily, automatically, hardly even being aware of his actions he glanced across. His breath caught. His heart rate accelerated. He felt it echoing in his ears. Straight across was a window with open drapes that reminded him of how a stage was framed. He felt like he was being given a private performance. It was like one of those peep shows, but this one was live and he intimately knew the female lead. He worried his lowered lip. He adjusted his chair reaching for his binoculars. Carefully he cleaned the lens never taking his eyes off the play. His Sheila was in the arms of the salt and pepper hair man. Their embrace was familiar; he just knew this wasn't their first time. He raised the glasses, adjusting them, sharpening the focus. It made it seem like he was sitting on the windowsill. Bernard had a box seat to the seduction. He watched as hands kneaded his Sheila's leather-clad ass. In his mind's eye it was his hands doing the kneading just like he'd done for years until that fateful decree. They might have been welded together at the lips, their kiss was intense lasting far longer than he thought possible. Sheila's mini slowly rose ever higher until the lacy tops of her black hose showed. She obviously was wearing a black garter belt. Bernard watched as hands other than his worked her skirt higher and higher bunching it at her slim waist until her bare ass showed. "Oh Sheila," he moaned remembering the feel of her soft translucent skin. Sheila was athletic and therefore had muscles in all the right spots too. Bernard's hands opened and closed as he imagined kneading her tanned ass. Sheila always had a tan, summer and winter, and he remembered there were never any tan lines. Sheila thought tan lines were sacrilege. He vicariously kneaded her ass pulling her up and onto his cock. Reaching down to his crotch he felt his flaccid cock lying useless between his legs. Momentarily he was surprised, he'd been sure he had an erection, he could feel it. It felt wonderful. It gave him hope. "Fuck," he growled. If only he'd been born with a longer at rest cock then perhaps he won't feel quite so castrated with this lifeless piece of spongy tissue. "Fuck!" he screamed to the heavens. He pounded the arms of his wheelchair. A solo sob escaped as once again he faced his disability. "It should be me touching Sheila," he screamed. He slumped broken in his chair, gasping, attempting to still the tears. Slowly he put the glasses back to his eyes focusing on the stage across the street. Sheila was standing looking out the window stark naked. It was as if she was looking right across at him, but he knew that she could not see in as his apartment was in darkness. He was glad the couple was not conserving electricity. He hoped they continued without turning off the lights. The tall gray haired man approached Sheila and wrapped his arms around her playing with her nipples. Bernard remembered the wonderful half moan of ecstasy and half groan of pain that Sheila made as her nipples awakened. He remembered how wet she'd become just from nipple manipulation. He wondered if this man who was nuzzling her neck could make her as wet. As if on cue his fingers snaked down slowly, teasingly, over her still taut tummy, stopping to circle her bellybutton before progressing. Bernard watched as the interloper's knee pried Sheila's legs open. She took the hint, adjusting her stance, giving him access to her nether region. Bernard noticed that now Sheila was nude between her legs. He sadly shook his head; he'd loved her bush of golden red curls down there. He was amazed at the display these two were putting on right in front of the window. He wondered how many of his neighbors were watching their performance as well. He'd find out later. There'd be talk. He just hoped old Mrs. Jenkins was busy with her soaps or she would be on the phone complaining about the obscenity taking place in room 503. He prayed that the old woman would mind her own business because he wanted to see it all. Long fingers unlike Bernard's thick workingman's fingers opened Sheila's labia. He watched as they circled her clit. Obviously Sheila enjoyed it; she pushed forward against the stranger's hand. Bernard could hear his Sheila moaning, in his mind he could hear her breathing quicken. With his spyglasses glued to his eyes he watched as this still faceless stranger's fingers pushed into her pussy. "Ah, to hell with her, I can call it her cunt now. In fact she is a cunt. My gawd she's suppose to be married and here she is fucking someone on the wrong side of town," he said aloud putting more emphasis on every word. "Cunt, cunt...!" he continued vehemently. It felt good to rage at the woman who'd betrayed him. Glistening wet fingers appeared. They approached Sheila's mouth circling her lips. Her tongue licked the length of his offering. Slowly she sucked the proffered index finger into her mouth. Bernard remembered the vacuum she had when she chose. She repeated with the stranger's other finger. Her green eyes looked like she was dreaming of something else. He hoped she was thinking of how she'd suck his fingers and then his cock before Bernard would settle in for his snack. Bernard remembered how she used to exclaim that sucking his fingers filled her mouth fuller than her previous lover's cock. Redipped fingers approached the stranger's mouth. For the first time Bernard focused on Sheila's paramour, he wished he hadn't. "Holy shit! Can't be!" he stared, his eyes half closed as he dug through his memory's data bank. "How's that possible?" He shrugged, "anything's possible. But Sheila fucking Doc Smith-Jones. Why? How long?" He laughed right out loud, his boisterous belly laugh bouncing off the walls. "Well, I'll be damned, now I've seen it all. Sheila and old Doc going at it. I wonder if she's still married?" he mused aloud. It was his habit to talk to himself aloud; he did it as his form of company since he was always alone. He readjusted his chair. "Gawd, she's still the hottest slut I've ever seen." Bernard reminisced about the Doc. He had seemed so aloof when he'd been Bernard's ortho specialist after the accident. He tried to remember if he had ever seen either Sheila or the Doc giving sideways glances at the other back then. He hated to admit they could've fucked in the next bed and he likely wouldn't have noticed. The Doc had kept him pretty doped up for a long time and he'd been unconscious for several days before that too. Maybe he'd offered Sheila solace on his examining table or maybe she'd been the initiator. She'd never been able to go more than a couple of days without a good fuck. In fact he'd given up long hauls in order to keep her happy in bed, but then it suited him too. They'd been well matched in bed. "Hell we spent half our life fuckin' and the other half wishing we were fuckin'." Bernard was in awe of the older man as he easily lifted Sheila into his arms. She pulled the drapes shut, as he turned moving towards to the bed. He pounded the arms of the chair, "for fuck's sake why'd she do that?" He so wanted to see her get fucked. "Damn it to hell." He carefully placed the binoculars on the table. Rubbing his eyes he ruminated about what to do with the knowledge. He wanted to track her down and let her know that he'd seen it all. He was sure he could if he called where she worked. Maybe he could get some money out of her or would it be better to just tell her hubby about what a slut he'd married. "Maybe it's the Doc I should go after," he said as he chewed the inside of his cheek. "Well that's why I've seen her on Wednesdays, he likely takes the afternoon off. All Doctors do, don't they?" he nattered away to himself. "Wonder how old that shit is anyway? I bet he's over fifty. What's Sheila see in an old man like that? Wonder what happens when it's golf season? " He laughed at his joke. He remembered Smith-Jones loved golf. Bernard remembered that the man had been in wonderful physical shape back when he'd been his Doc. Bernard had hated him, though as a doctor, he’d been nothing but caring and compassionate. Bernard still hated him because he was the one that had decreed the verdict that he'd never walk. He sat pummeling the arms of the chair at the unfairness of life wishing not for the first time that he could slug that man. Room 503 Reason settled in. He relaxed and he schemed. His eyes flew open wide. He stared down at the street as he decided. Did he want to get back at her more or did he want more peep shows? "Paul always works days. I wonder how much he'd want to put them in room 503 every week." He planned how he'd cozy up to the old desk clerk and solicit his help. "Maybe he'd help me break the pull cord on the drapes. I wonder?" Room 504 THE receptionist looked up and smiled as Anne's heels clacked across the terracotta flooring of the quiet hotel lobby. "Good evening, Miss Oakley, hope you are well." "Yes, thank you Georgina, I'm fine," said the blonde, stooping to place her briefcase on the floor and then hitching the long strap of her overnight travel bag firmly into place on her left shoulder. Georgina, still smiling, swiped a room key card and offered it to the guest. "Room 504 as usual," she said. "Everything is ready. You will want room service, I take it?" "Hmm, yes please. My usual chicken sandwich and a bottle of Muscadet, if you will. And, remember, no white bread." "Of course not, no white." Georgina's smile became even broader. "Have a nice night." Anne nodded, picked up her briefcase and headed for the bank of elevators. As a partner in an interior design business, it had become Anne's routine to stop in the hotel every Thursday night, forgoing the commute on the train in order to be more refreshed and prepared for the following morning's partners and projects meetings. Inside room 504, Anne put her briefcase on the table under the window, lowered the travel bag to the floor and shrugged off her linen suit jacket and hung it up in the spacious wardrobe, taking time to study her reflection in the door-length mirror. "Hmmm," she murmured, fluffing up her hair and appraising the pearls at her throat, the white satin blouse that focused attention on the swell of her bosom and the black tight skirt which clung to the generous curve of her hips. She kicked off her heels and, after taking her vanity case from the travel bag, walked in black stockinged-feet to the bathroom, where she brushed her teeth and generally freshened up, concluding with a fresh coating of pink lip gloss. Anne returned to the bedroom as a knock on the door heralded the welcome cry of "Room service." A quick check through the peephole and Anne opened the door, standing to one side as a young, bald black man wheeled a trolley over the threshold. "Good evening, madam," he said in a rich baritone voice and Anne firmly closed the door. She walked behind him, admiring how his broad shoulders and back filled out his white shirt. He tapered to a slim waist and his buttocks were two firm peaches, stretching the material of his uniform pants. He pushed the trolley to the table and Anne, arriving at his side and peering at the name tag on his chest, said, "Would you open the wine, please, Darren?" Darren uncorked the bottle and raised an eyebrow in Anne's direction. "Just a small one for now," she said and watched as he poured, stopping with the wine halfway up the glass. She sipped the cool liquid and sighed. "Mmm, that's good," she said, took a second sip and then placed the glass on the table. Darren stood attentively, apparently awaiting the customary room-service gratuity. But his eyes widened when Anne faced him and began to unbutton her blouse... slowly, casually, her blue eyes scanning Darren's features without blinking. Her lips parted in a sensuous smile, the tip of her tongue peeping through white, even teeth. Now, the blouse gaped, partially revealing a lacy white half-cupped bra and a gently undulating chest. Anne began to unbutton her blouse cuffs and said, "Don't just stand there, Darren... get your kit off." Darren's eyes opened even wider, his eyebrows shooting up his forehead but, after gulping, he unclipped his bow-tie, unfastened three buttons on his shirt and drew it up and over his head. Anne let her blouse slip off her shoulders and down her arms before tossing it on to a nearby chair. She swiftly removed her bra and her proud breasts quivered as she also lobbed that garment on to the chair. Darren, his gaze firmly on Anne's chest, unbuckled his belt as she stepped towards him and laid both hands on his broad chest. Her pink-painted nails, drew patterns around his nipples, down over his ribs and round to his stomach and navel. His pants slithered down his legs to pool at his ankles. Anne took a pace backwards and looked at Darren's pale blue boxers and the bulge on the left side. "Right, Darren," she said softly. "Take everything off except those shorts. Leave them for me." Darren managed to find his voice. "Yes, madam," he said and stooped to remove his shoes, socks and trousers. Anne sat on the edge of the bed, watched and waited, her fingers toying with her aroused nipples. She knew her pussy was already moist but resisted feeling beneath her skirt as Darren took three steps and stood in front of her. She leaned forward and placed wet kisses on his stomach, her right hand sliding up the leg of his boxers. She breathed in sharply as her fingers met the hot, firm, pulsating growth. "Nice," she muttered and stroked the shaft within two fingers and thumb. Darren sighed, his erection twitching and thickening. "Think I need to see this monster," said Anne, withdrawing her hand and grasping his waistband. "Oh yes, wow... oh my, that's a beauty," she said as she unveiled Darren's black baton. He lifted one foot at a time out of the fallen boxers, motions which sent his tube swaying and swinging against his thick thighs. Anne used her right hand to lift up his impressive meat and exhaled a long, desirous sigh as the weight and heat nestled in her palm and along her inner wrist. A mighty vein bulged topside and Anne bent to kiss the purple head, licking at the one-eye and lapping along some of the escalating length. Her left hand cupped his heavy, big balls and squeezed gently. Darren reacted, putting his hands on Anne's cool, fleshy shoulders and she looked up into his face. "Yes," she said throatily. "I need you to put this thing inside me... NOW. Come on, Darren, give me a good fucking." Anne scooted back and lay across the width of the king-sized bed. She pulled the skirt up to her waist, displaying stockings and suspenders and divulging that she was sans panties. The fingers of her right hand tickled through the few blonde pubic hairs and pressed against her slit. Her middle finger slowly rode up and down between moist lips as Darren climbed aboard and knelt between Anne's spread legs. "You want me to fuck straight away, no licking or fingering?" he asked. Anne withdrew her hand and lifted both arms, letting them rest at the side of her head. The position indicated that she was ready to be taken. She looked down her body, between her breasts and saw Darren's huge cock at horizontal attention, the mighty head pointing somewhere towards and above her pussy. She drew up her knees and parted them to expose her waiting vulva. She was definitely primed. "No foreplay needed, Darren. I'm ready and I can see you are." Her eyes still focused on the object of her joy. "C'mon, get that big, beautiful cock in me." Darren edged forward, still kneeling, and presented his cock head at Anne's opening. With his his hands holding Anne's stockinged knees wide apart he pushed the helmet between her juicy, swollen lips and found the entrance to her dark tunnel. Anne held her breath, waiting for the exquisite moment of penetration, alert to the hardness of his smooth head knocking at her door. "Oh, wow, yes... oh,oh," she gasped as one thrust of Darren's hips pierced her inner being and took him into her deeper, hidden treasure. Darren immediately began to piston her tunnel, the walls of her pussy wet but tight around his thick, immense cock. Darren gave her long strokes, withdrawing slowly but plunging powerfully, always varying the lengths: sometimes he supplied most of him, others only half or less. But Anne bucked her hips and rocked her head side-to-side when he pounded all the way in and then rammed quick, hard thrusts deep within her tummy. Bump... thump... clump... their pubic bones crunched together, the head of his mighty, solid organ throbbing and filling the end of her sopping channel. It was all too much, too delightful to last. Anne clenched her fists and furiously met his pounding thrusts, bringing on the first surges of orgasm. They spread like wildfire from her tummy, flaring into a tumultuous, frenzied release, her juices soaking Darren's vigorous drill and seeping down her trembling thighs. Darren slowed from pounding to gently easing his length patiently up and down Anne's sodden, dark cavern. During this slow, considerate rhythm, Anne was aware of his enormous girth and those thoughts rapidly revived her desires, sending tingles along her cavity walls, muscles flexing and tensing as the drilling gradually increased in momentum and power. "Oh yes, Darren, oh yes," she cried out as another wave of sensational vibrations built, growing almost in pace with his remarkably stiffening cock. Darren gritted his teeth, sweat bubbling on his brow, and drove deep to supply Anne's climax. When it came, flowing and electrifying, she screamed and then, self-consciously, bit on her bottom lip. Darren, rigid and buried to the hilt, somehow managed to hold back his own orgasm and release. He waited, ensuring that Anne was truly sated. Then, as she relaxed, her body sinking into the mattress, he produced three more hulking thrusts before pulling out and, grunting and gasping, pumped great globs of thick cream onto her tummy and chest. Done, he sagged forward and rested his head on Anne's right shoulder, his right hand on her sticky left breast. His breathing was heavy and short and Anne wrapped her arms around his muscular back in a grateful embrace. They lay in silence, thinking all manner of thoughts, their bodies recovering, until Darren squinted a look at the bedside clock and said, "I must go. I have another order for room service in half an hour." "Mmmm," said Anne, smiling. "It's a hard life you have, isn't it?" Darren boosted himself up and clambered off the bed. "I'll have a quick shower and be gone," he said. "Okay. But first, pour me a full glass of wine." She watched the naked Darren comply with her wishes and sat up, propped against pillows, when he handed her the drink. "Thanks, you're the best room service attendant I've ever had," she said, using a forefinger to wipe some of his drying cream off her tummy. Darren smiled down at her. "Thank you," he said, bowing slightly, before he turned and headed for the bathroom. "Oh, by the way," said Anne, causing Darren to turn. "Next week, in case you've forgotten, according to my schedule, it's your turn to be dominant and it's also our week for loads of oral. Lots of licky-licky before we fuck, yes? My pussy and clit will need a lot of attention, not like today.' Anne sipped some wine, looking over the rim of the glass at Darren, whose mighty glistening cock lolled between his thighs. "So," she continued, "you'd better make sure I'm your last customer of the night. It'll be a long session. Okay?" Darren nodded, saluted, and, with a huge grin on his face, stepped into the shower cubicle. Room 51 Her nipples were hard. With every step she took, every move of her body, every bounce of her breasts, they rubbed against the inside of her bra until they were nearly raw with heat. It was her own fault. She shouldn't have been thinking of him, of those things he did to her. It all started when she woke that morning. Her breasts were aching as they often did when she was ovulating. Always horniest at this time of the month, the desire to fuck was overwhelming and she seldom cared with whom she did it, as long as her needs were met. The last time she met him she slept for days, allowing her body to recover from the banging he had given her. She was becoming attached, not to him the person, but to him the lover, her master. And she knew she should break away. But now he called again and she couldn't refuse. The moment she heard his deep, dark voice over the phone it took everything in her will power not to cum right on the receiver. This time they were meeting at a hotel, but not one they had met at before, or that she had ever been to or heard of. But New York is a very big city so she shouldn't have been too surprised. He told her what lingerie to wear, stockings, stiletto shoes, even the coat and purse, but no dress. She was not to wear any stitch of outer clothing except for her coat. As she got dressed she could already feel the dampness growing between her legs. She wanted to touch herself but he had instructed her not to – she was to save herself for him. Driving over to the upper east side, the taxi driver stopped at the address of a very exclusive building. As she exited the taxi, the cold March wind caught the end of her coat and made its way around her legs, chilling her instantly. While the cold should have placated some of the heat she felt inside, it only caused to incite her even further. The doorman allowed her in and a well dressed host behind a mahogany desk gave her a cordial welcome. "What room number please?" "51" she responded. How odd she thought. No names, no identification needed. The only thing she needed to be admitted was the number of the room he was expecting her in. As she rode up the elevator, she carried out the remainder of his instructions by removing her outer coat and letting down her hair. She prayed that nobody would be in the hall as she exited, but her prayers went unheard as two well-dressed men, one older, one much younger, were waiting as the elevator doors opened. Being exposed like that she would have thought the two men would have been shocked. Instead they looked her up and down in an appraising –like fashion and muttered their approval. As she exited the elevator and they got in, she could feel her nipples stick out even farther through the material of her bra at the excitement their visual examination of her caused. Then she was there. Room 51. Taking a deep breath, she knocked. After just a moment of waiting, the door opened and there he stood. Being the consummate gentleman, he hung her coat and placed her purse in easy view. He offered her a drink, scotch whisky, and she took it without question. As she sipped that warm feeling only a real good whisky can provide began to course through her body. He stood close to her, behind her, and as she sipped her drink, he ran his hands along the contours of her form, whispering in her ear: "Have you been good? Have you done what I told you and not touched yourself?" Before she could answer, his fingers grabbed hold of her already hard and sensitive nipples, squeezing them tight and pulling them through the lace bodice of her bra. "Aaaaggghhhhh," she cried out in a half moan, half scream, nearly cumming from that one touch. He smiled wickedly as her head fell against his shoulder. Still standing behind her, he cupped her breasts in his hands, gave a strong squeeze which elicited another moan from her and then took her by the hand and led her to the bed. But she was soon to learn that the bed was not for lying down. To her surprise he bent down, and grabbing the end of the bed, pulled it up and pushed it into the wall like a Murphy-bed, where it locked in place. On the bottom-side of the bed were an array of straps and harnesses for acts she was sure she couldn't even imagine. Still holding her hand, he led her to the now wall, lifted her hand to shoulder height to one of the fur lined cuff links and locked her wrist into it. She stared at him, not knowing what to say or do. He gently took her other hand and, while moving her body against the wall, he locked the other wrist. She stood there momentarily, not knowing what to make of everything, until he reached for a chain on the side and pulled, automatically lifting her arms out and above her head into a "V" position. Without hesitation, he cuffed her angles in padded cuffs and pulled another chain that forced her to spread her legs exposing her pussy lips to the air of the room. Spread-eagled and chained against the wall of the Murphy-bed, her back unnaturally arched forward sticking her breasts out ever further. He bent down to teasingly bite her nipples and then lifted his head to softly whisper in her ear: "Now we're ready to begin." He stood there, scotch in hand, surmising the beauty in front of him. He liked to open the minds of those he found pleasure with – both men and women – exposing them to new experiences. Kneeling down in front of her, he agonizingly teased her by kissing the insides of her thighs just above the stockings. His breath was hot and it felt like steam was rising from her skin. His next touch was with his tongue. He slipped it between her outer lips and into the cavern of wetness causing her entire body to shake in agony as he slowly licked her clit as one would an ice cream cone. He moved up her body, caressing all the exposed areas of her skin, until he reached her breasts. Pulling the stretched lace down he exposed her breasts, and hence her nipples. Her breasts were heavy, and her nipples thick and dark – engorged by blood and very hard, sticking out at least ½ an inch. Perfect for sucking. To ensure they were at their most extended, he took an ice cube from his drink and rubbed them, causing her to moan loudly once more. Well that wouldn't do. He hadn't told her she needed to be quiet but she knew better. He took the ice cube from her nipples and placed it in her mouth. "You can suck on this, but don't make any more sounds." There. She had been told. And if she disobeyed, she knew what would happen to her. It was time to get down to business and he uncovered several items that had laid in waiting on the night stand. The first a plug to prepare her beautiful anus for him later on. Taking his tongue he spread the wetness from her up the crack of her ass, lubricating the rear entrance while inserting the plug into her vagina to get it nice and wet. He unceremoniously placed it at the entrance of her ass and then with one quick push, put it in place. Next was the tried and true tested rabbit vibrator. This too he inserted into her pussy, but then told her to use her muscles to hold it in. Operated by remote control he tested it to make sure it was working properly. He smiled as he watched his pet wince and wiggle at the pleasurable torture. He took a series of chains and clamps from the table and, attaching them to her already sensitive nipples from where he ran the chain down and attached it to her protruding clit. The chain was tight enough that just a deep breath would pull the chain on all three parts and cause the clamps to tighten. But she was trying too hard to be good so he decided to send her to the breaking point. Back down on his knees once again, he began to suck her clit, knowing that this would cause her to orgasm. She held out as long as she could until her entire body was trembling, the blood flowing to her lower parts and then suddenly, without warning, she exploded with a loud cry while she came all over him and the floor below her. He continued to apply pressure until the waves had subsided, then he stood, wiped his face and looked at her. And in a deep, soft voice he said: "I told you to be quiet." And with that he took from the drawer in the night stand a small, but effective gag and placed it in her mouth, tying it around her head. He knew she hated the gag, but lessons had to be taught. Still breathing hard from the preceding orgasm her eyes went wide when he brought over a stuffed chair. Placing it just a couple of feet from her, he then undid only the cuffs on her wrists and held her against him. She was weak, but he knew she could handle what was in-store for her. Bending her over the chair, her body, which was still attached to the wall by her ankles, now stretched out over the chair in front of her, hips over the cushioned top and her wrists were once again restrained from cuffs brought up from below the chair. He tweaked her breasts as they hung in mid air, and slapped her ass a few times as it stuck out lovingly as the highest point of her body at that moment in time. Stepping over her legs, he turned the vibrator on, causing her to squirm a little under the restraints. Until now, he had remained full dressed so it was a relief for him to loosen his belt and unzip his pants. He stood there, nearly fully dressed, but with a 10 inch penis, hard as a rock, protruding from his trousers. Gently, slowly, he pulled out the butt plug and then rubbed her ass a bit before spanking that same spot a few times. As the vibrator was still in her cunt, he took this out too so that he could use her juices to lubricate his cock. She was hot and wet and incredible sensitive as he placed the head of his penis at her opening. She was powerless as she laid across the back of the chair, strapped by all fours, her ass in the air, her nipples occasionally brushing against the seat, and her legs spread wide exposing her cunt. She hated the gag, but it kept her from screaming out. Because of his height he had an excellent position hovering over her. Mercilessly he penetrated her in one movement, ramming his cock into her anal canal, putting his weight into it. Tears sprung from her eyes as she felt the pain, the heat and the pleasure. He then pulled slowly out and then back in again, rhythmically, as she felt his balls slapping against her bare skin. He reached around her hips and with his finger began circulating her protruding clit, but this time he did not touch her already sensitive clit but followed the line of the urethra and stimulated her in that way. A different yet intense feeling. She could feel the pressure building up in her....another orgasm? Or was she going to urinate all over the floor? She didn't care one way or the other. With both her clit and her anus occupied, she felt the gaping hole left in her vagina. She wanted it filled, she was scared of what might happen next. And happen it did. There came a point that all his slamming into her ass and playing with her pussy became too much. It was as if someone had flicked a switch and a release of cum poured out of her, drenching both their legs. At this he began to slap her ass, one side then the other, and rode her as a cowboy does a bucking horse. Reaching forward he grabbed her hair, yanking her head and arching her back. She felt his movements slowing down and before he came he gently pulled out of her anus and slipped his cock into her extremely wet cunt. Then he pulled out of there and came around to the front of the chair. Unstrapping the gag from her mouth he took it away and told her to look up. This was the first time she had caught a glimpse of him since she had been placed over the chair. Somehow he had managed to shed all his clothes. He stood there in front of her, rubbing the long length of his penis inches from her face, contemplating his next move. "Open your mouth." He commanded. She obeyed. He placed his cock into her mouth and commanded her to suck. The position was awkward but she did her best to accommodate. While he had her still strapped over the chair and sucking on his cock, he reached across the back of her body and with his long arms reached up and over her ass to find the juices of her cunt and sweep them up into her canal. He inserted a finger then two and began to slam them in while holding on tight to one of her butt cheeks with the other hand. He was very much fucking her face when she could feel the tension inside him build. With both hands he grabbed both her cheeks and braced himself as he continued his tirade on her mouth. And that's when he let go. The hot cum filled her mouth and as she began to swallow, he pulled out to shower the rest of her face with it. She didn't like this and neither did he particularly, but it was the humiliation of it that was exciting for him. To be so close to her face and just let it go. After several moments, he backed away and sat in another chair, catching his breath and looking at his handy work. She was panting heavy and while she had had several tremendous orgasms already, he wanted to see what would happen if he pushed her to the limit. He had a plan. He went into the bathroom and came out with a warm, wet wash cloth. He untied her and gently washed her face. He sat her down in the chair he had just been in, and proceeded to reconfigure the room. The chair she had been strapped to went back to its original place and the Murphy bed came down, turning the room into an ordinary hotel room again. But was it? She had noticed the decorative archway leading to the bathroom. She had thought it quite large and ornate for a NY hotel room. It was at least seven feet high and just as deep with two sets of wide columns at each side. Little did she know the dual purpose it held. The marble sides of the columns slid open to reveal hidden compartments with more apparatus for restraining.. He led her over, like a lamb to the slaughter, and tied her but with obvious slack in the chains. Then he placed a brace around her waist which was also attached to the columns. She stood there not knowing what to expect when he went back to the ever forbidding night stand and pulled out a blindfold. He had never blindfolded her before so she wondered why this time. But in her current state she was in no position to ask. She was just glad the gag was gone from her mouth. He gently tied the blindfold around her head but tight enough to ensure she could not peek. She could hear him walk away and then she heard him pick up the phone and speak into the receiver. "Yes, we're ready." Ready for what? She thought. Who could he have been talking to? After what seemed ages, but was most likely only a few moments, there was a knock at the door. She heard him open it and two sounds of footsteps entered the room. "ah yes, very nice." That voice. She had heard that voice. Was it the older man she saw in the elevator?? "Delectable!" And that must be the younger man. She hadn't known there would be other participants and this made her very nervous. Three men? At once? At that thought, she thought she heard her master flick a switch and suddenly a soft humming began. She felt herself being slightly lifted and then she was definitely lifted off the floor. Hands stretched, legs stretched, torso being lifted, and then she was being stretched but turned until she was in an "X" at a 90 degree angle and her back was parallel with the floor. A padded bar was put in place underneath her back for support. She hung there, trying to hold up her head – the only part of her body which wasn't supported or pulled by the straps. She could hear shuffling and clothing being removed and bodies near hear, but she couldn't see and didn't really know for sure what was happening. At first she felt one hand coupling her breast then another – but this one was different, a little rougher. She felt more hands on her body, squeezing, caressing, touching, pinching, it could only have been six but felt like 20. Hands began to explore her clit and fingers started to slip in and out of her now completely soaking vagina. Mouths began to accompany hands with the biting of her nipples and a tongue in her clit licking up and down. She started to relax as more and more the sensations of all these different pairs of hands and mouths excited her. In the meanwhile her head had dropped back tired of being held up and suddenly she felt movement near her ears. "Open your mouth." It was her master's voice so she obeyed right away. And that's when she felt it – a man's penis against her lips. But it wasn't her master's. She didn't know whose it was. But she knew what she was meant to do and without being told she began to take it into her mouth. The penis was long and thin but with quite an engorged head. The angle of her head opened her throat up and very quickly she was able to take in the entire length of the long cock. Realizing he was being deep throated excited the man and he took great long strides in and out of her mouth, slapping his balls against her eyes and forehead. In the meanwhile another person had moved in between her eagle-spread legs and positioned himself at the opening of her vagina. Taking his cues from the man at her mouth, the new comer timed his movements in and out of her with the other so that she was being completely fucked from both ends simultaneously. The man in her mouth reached down while fucking her face and with both hands tweaked her nipples, pulling and pinching so that they protruded as far as they physically dared. With her legs spread wide open the man fucking her pussy had clear and easy access to her clit. He began using his thumb to circle the already sensitive area. It only took a few minutes of this stimulation along with her nipples being pinched, the cock in her pussy systematically caressing her g-spot and the long cock in her mouth trying to push further down her throat, before she came. With a stifled scream, she came in avalanche-like proportions. She could hear the gushing of fluid pouring out of her as she ejaculated all over the stranger's penis, balls, legs and onto the floor. Losing all control, every cell in her body cried out in intense exultation. The noise filled her ears like roars, the smells of human sweat and sex filled her nostrils and her tongue tasted the cream of the man's cum which was exploding in her mouth. Then all went quiet. For a moment she felt as if she were floating and then the darkness came. He gently lifted her while the other two men unchained her. He carried her into the bathroom where a warm bath of lavender was waiting. He lovingly washed her beaten body, caressing ever so softly, keeping her head above the water line. He then lifted her into towels and patted the dampness away from her skin. Lifting her once again, he then brought her back into the bedroom. By this time the others had dressed and departed, leaving the two of them alone. He pulled down the covers and placed her gently down so as not to disturb her well deserved slumber. Tucking her in, he then turned on a single lamp on the bed stand. When this was done, he walked over to the desk and began writing a short note. She woke several hours later, momentarily forgetting where she was. It was dark and the room was lit by a single lamp near her bed. Then it all came back to her. She sat upright, not knowing if anyone was still left in the room. She quickly looked around scanning her surroundings, listening for any sounds. But no one was there. Upon this realization she saw the notecard. A moment of sadness crossed her face as she reached for it, opened it and read the single phrase... "Until next time..." # # # Room 513 I woke to kisses, and a hand softly massaging my breast. I reached up...wait, wrong hair. I bit down hard on the tongue in my mouth. He cried out in pain, and I shot a foot to his mid-section. I sat up and grabbed the phone. Out of the side of my eye I saw Dave come to his friends aid. "Shit...Taylor, are you OK?" It dawned on me what was going on. But I dialed anyway. "Hello. Front desk. This is room 513. Can you get the police." Dave was across the room in a shot at that. He grabbed the phone out of my hand, "No...no. It won't be necessary." I gave him a level gaze and said, "You've never had that happen have you?" "No." he said. I looked over at Taylor and asked, "Did I hurt you?" "Yes, but I'll survive." He said rubbing his stomach. "OK Gentlemen—and I am using that term loosely—sit on the couch, and we will deal with this without the police." I grabbed Dave's T-shirt off the floor and pulled it over my head, walked to the bar and pulled a cigarette out of his pack, and knowing that they were still staring at me where they stood, said with out turning "SIT." I heard my voice take on an edge. I ran my hand through my long red hair; this would be much easier in my 4-inch patent heels. Nothing to be done about it. I heard the men sit. I poured myself a shot of Dutch courage in a cut crystal glass. Turning to face them I said, " I don't have a problem with this..." I paused to drain my glass, "...I do however like to be asked." I began to close the space between us and brought the cigarette to my lips. Taylor pulled a Bic out of his pocket and lit it for me. That pinpointed the sub in this relationship. I smiled. "Thank you, Taylor," I said, "Now secure Dave's hands behind his back." His jaw dropped, and they both stared at me, "What?" "You heard me. Tie his hands." He looked to Dave, who gave no protest, shrugged and said, "I'm going to need the belt from your robe Dave." "Good idea Taylor. Take off the robe Dave. I like looking at you." As Dave stood up to untie his robe I walked to the bar and put out the cigarette. Once Taylor had finished binding his friends hands, I said "Remain standing I want to inspect the knot. Taylor go stand at the end of the bed." "Yes Ma'am," said Taylor as he moved to stand at the end of the bed with his hands behind his back, feet planted shoulder length apart and eyes lowered. I made a mental note of his response and position. Dave however held my eyes, with a leering grin and a growing hard-on as I walked towards him. The knots were expertly tied. Dave wasn't getting free, unless I freed him. He wasn't expecting the push to the chest I gave him, and he fell back awkwardly onto the couch. I circled around to the back of him, and used his hair to yank his head back. He started to protest, but I covered his mouth in a rough kiss, which he eagerly returned. I broke the kiss, and lowered my face to his ear so only he could hear me say, "The rules are simple. Good behavior is rewarded...bad behavior is punished." I loosened my grip on his hair, but still held him fast. "I would remember that, because you relinquished your dominant position when you agreed to be bound. I have half a mind to have Taylor give me his belt so I can take it to your ass," I paused so the full impact of the statement hit him. "Look at your friend." I said letting go of his hair. Dave surveyed his friend's stance. "He is a trained submissive. He'd do it with out a second thought." Let him stew on that, I thought to myself as I turned my attention on Taylor. I went to where Taylor was standing, "Whom do you serve?" I asked him. "No one Ma'am." I reached up under his shirt and ran my thumb over his nipple. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes at the stimulation. "Someone has put great care into your training, and I am not about to use another Mistress' property without her permission." I pinched his erect nipple with my nails, causing him to gasp in pain, "Whom do you serve?" "My lifestyle affords me access to the ministrations of Mistresses throughout the world, Ma'am, but I am not bound to one." "Fair enough...what about Dave?" I said gesturing in his friend's direction. "What?" He asked with amazement in his voice. It had never occurred to him that there was a dominant partner in their friendship. "What about Dave?" I asked again "This is obviously not the first time you have shared a woman, and it is my guess that he is the ringleader in that little game. Correct?" Taylor averted his eyes. I used my nails on him again, and he winced. "Answer me." "Yes Ma'am," he answered softly. "You checked with him before you followed my instructions to tie him. Do you serve him?" "No Ma'am, I do not," He said. "Good...Call me Mistress. The rules are simple. Good behavior is rewarded, and bad behavior is punished. Hand me your belt. Then you may get undressed, and lie face down on the bed." "Thank you, Mistress." Taylor smiled as he handed me his belt. I sauntered over to the couch holding Taylor's belt, and sat by Dave. "You had no idea did you?" "No," he said with an uneasy edge to his voice. I watched Taylor as he shed his clothing. I licked my lips suddenly wanting to use his body. I looked at Dave, and said, "Are you OK? Can you still feel your hands?" I saw him eyeing the belt in my hand. "It should be for you, as the perpetrator...but who am I to cast stones? They give you the power. You use it." I shrugged and turned my attention back to Taylor, who had finished stripping and was now face down on the bed. "The belt is for him. He's anticipating it." So am I, I thought my hand straying between my legs, absently caressing my pussy. I caught Dave watching me. I returned his leering grin and offered my fingers to him. He greedily licked them clean. I straddled Dave, grinding my pussy on his still hard cock. He issued a small groan of pleasure, and said, "Your pussy's so hot." I bit his ear lobe and whispered, "I want Taylor to know what I am doing." He nodded. I slid off his lap to kneel on the floor in front of him. Dave began his monologue. "Oh God, your tongue feels so good on my cock...yeah, that's it suck my balls...they feel so good in your mouth...Mmmm, stop teasing me, give me more than your tongue...Oh YEAH, suck my cock bitch...take it all, suck it deep...Oh God, suck it faster, ooh, you take it so deep...suck it faster...faster...yeah that's it...you're gonna make me cum...Oh fuck...yes." I swallowed the majority of Dave's cum, smearing the small amount I didn't on my lips. I walked over to where Taylor was waiting. I brought the belt down on his ass, "On your hands and knees." He quickly moved to the position I demanded of him. I sat on the bed beside him and said, "Kiss me." "Thank you Mistress," he said voice heavy with lust, before bringing his lips to mine. He had strong lips, and a talented tongue. I lost myself in his kiss for a moment longer than I had planned. "God you're good," I said just under my breath. I snapped back to the task at hand, and surveyed Taylor, his eyes were closed, lips slightly parted, breathe coming shallow and uneven. I ran my fingers through his hair, brought my face close to his, and gave him another quick kiss, his tongue following as I pulled away to ask, "Do you like tasting your friends cum on my lips?" I leaned in and swallowed his answer in a hungry kiss. I felt his tongue longingly trace my lips. The flames on my lust fanned, I pulled away and stood up abruptly. "On your back." I barked as I brought the belt down. He hesitated as the belt made contact, "Faster. Your Mistress wants your cock." I brought it down again. "Now!" "Yes Mistress," he said struggling to roll onto his back. I straddled him, slamming his cock into my pussy. "Oh, Yes" I said through gritted teeth as he arched his back burying his cock deeper in me. "I need to cum, Taylor, and I am going to use your cock to do it." "Thank you Mistress," He said. I pulled the T-shirt off and leaned in grabbing his shoulders to steady myself. I started fucking him hard, deliberate, working my pussy up and down the entire length of his cock, my erect nipples brushing his chest with each thrust. "Open your eyes Taylor, I want you to look at me." From behind me I heard, "Damn it, Taylor...I wish you could see what I'm seeing. She sucked me dry less than 10 minutes ago, and I am fucking hard again. I want some of what she's giving you. What's she feel like Tay?" Taylor looked to me. "Don't answer," and he remained silent. "Nice try Dave. I was about to untie you...but I just can't reward you for trying to win Taylor back. This is not your game anymore. Now be quiet or I'll have to gag you." I caught the ghost of a grin cross Taylor's lips. "We have unfinished business, don't we Taylor? Maybe I should gag him just for that..." I let the question trail off, running my hands over his arms and chest. "But then one of us would have to get out of bed," I leaned in and kissed him "...and I don't want to go anywhere. Do you?" "No Mistress, I want to stay right here." "Good" I said. I sat back up, and placed one hand in the center of his chest. "Now where were we?" I asked and started a slow ride "Here?" He locked his eyes on mine and moaned, "Mmmm, there...thank you Mistress. I want to feel you cum. Please use my cock, oh yes...fuck me hard...Oh." I could feel my orgasm build. The speed of my ride increased as it neared. My eyes closed and body leaned backward, driving his cock deep as it broke in rough waves. I opened my eyes to see his gaze still locked on me, his face a mask of lust. I started to roll off of him, but he rolled with me. He brought his mouth close to my ear and asked in a low voice, "Mistress, I want to worship you, to taste you, to feel you cum on my face," and then he brought his lips to mine and whispered "Please," in between each of his kisses. I brought my hand to his face in a gentle caress before consenting to his request. He sat up taking my hand from his face he tenderly kissed the palm and wrist. Letting my hand drop, he commenced a leisurely exploration of my body. Beginning at my ankles, he let his hands glide lightly from my ankles up my legs, his thumbs brushing the inside of my thighs briefly before moving over my stomach. Using his fingertips he traced circles around the base of my breasts, over my shoulders and down my arms to entwine his fingers with mine. Placing a kiss at my jaw line he trailed his tongue over my throat and down my sternum. He paused as if trying to decide his next course of action. "Now...I need you now Taylor," I whispered. He took my direction, letting go of my hands he continued to trail his tongue down over my stomach. I felt his hands massage the inside of my thighs as he moved my legs over his shoulders. A shudder of anticipation moved across my body as I felt his breath, heavy and warm, hovering, before he began his exploration. His tongue explored my outer lips with broad strong strokes. As he moved inward, I let a moan escape, encouraged he continued licking. Teasing me, he began touching my clit and moving away, but always moving back, spending more time caressing my clit with his tongue, until it was his main focus. He brought me to orgasm quickly, as it neared its end, I felt him slip a finger inside me to find my g-spot. Between his renewed attention to my clit and his finger on my trigger, I came again immediately. It took me a moment to recover from the experience, but when I did, I looked down to find Taylor grinning like the Cheshire Cat. "That was a nice party trick Taylor. Come here...we'll discuss a reward." I could taste myself on his lips when he kissed me. I propped myself on one arm, and grinned back at him, "I want a cigarette, and I'm thirsty...bourbon." Taylor rolled off the bed and walked to the bar. I moved to the end of the bed, and turned my attention to Dave. "You still want some of what I gave Taylor?" I asked him spreading my legs wide. "Yes Ma'am," Dave answered lustfully eyeing me. "Good, I have plans for you." I smiled at Taylor as he handed me my bourbon, and lit my cigarette. I looked back to Dave and said " I want you to come to me on your knees." I sipped my drink as I watched Dave struggle off the couch and make his way towards me. When he arrived in front of me I offered him my half-smoked cigarette. He leaned forward and sucked greedily. I took it from his lips and disposed of it in the ashtray Taylor was holding. Emptying my glass I handed that to him as well. He moved off to deposit them at the bar. "Have a drink Taylor. I'll let you know when I need you." I crooked my finger at Dave inviting him closer. As he moved in, I put my legs over his shoulders and said "Show me what you've got." Dave's technique verged on assaultive, equal measure of tongue and teeth punctuated by intense sucking. I let him bring me just to the edge and pulled his face away. "Get on the bed and lie down on your back," I ordered. Dave awkwardly climbed onto the bed, and when he was on his back I smirked at him. I crawled on the bed above him, ran my hands over his chest and kissed him. "Come here Taylor, I need you now." I continued kissing Dave, as I began leisurely fucking him. Taylor came up behind me, running his hands down my back to massage oil into my ass. He worked a finger into my asshole, when he felt me relax he added another, "Oh, God YES...Taylor, I want to feel your cock in my ass," I moaned. "Fuck her Taylor," I heard Dave direct. I kissed him to shut him up. Taylor leaned down and kissed my back. I gripped Dave's shoulder as I felt Taylor enter me. He eased in slowly, and Dave swallowed my moan in his kisses. Taylor matched the pace I had set with Dave. I held out on my orgasm, until Dave said through my kisses, "Oh baby...I'm gonna cum...I'm gonna cum..." "Oh yeah...I want to feel you cum...cum for me..." I said as much to Dave, as to Taylor to let him know he had permission. I felt Dave explode a second before Taylor, and then I lost myself in my orgasm. I felt Taylor collapse on top of me when it was over, and we lay together exhausted for a long moment. Eventually Dave broke the silence. "Can someone untie me, I need a smoke." Room 529@Loyola Holiday Inn I got a text this morning... "Room 529@Loyola Holiday Inn. Noon. Don't be late" It was still fairly early for me. Took a second for it to register, but when it did the spark of anticipation shot down my spine and into my cock which immediately started throbbing. Afternoon meetings with my Nubian Queen, were always especially delicious, as it seemed the midday encounter really revved up her creativity. Like a good bitch boy, I promptly knocked on the door at noon, and was greeted by Queen, wearing a white robe with her hair pulled back. She handed me a brown paper shopping bag, pushed me towards the bathroom, and told me I had 10 minutes to get ready. I locked the door behind me, stripped myself nude, did a quick cursory pass with a razor over my cock and balls, and then opened the bag onto the floor. In it was a black lace bra, matching thong panties and garter, thigh high stockings, heels, lipstick, and a wig of strawberry blond hair. I pulled the stockings on, then the garter, then the bra, and stopped to admire myself in the mirror for a second. I'd fuck me. I then threw the wig on, and put the lipstick on and let mistress know I was on my way out. She had the shades pulled and the room darkened, so I couldn't immediately tell what she was wearing. As my eyes adjusted, I saw she was naked... Except for, wait, what... Is that... OMG, she's wearing a strap on!! I began trembling with nervous anticipation as she approached me. Her first words were "you are to refer to me as sir today". "Yes sir" I replied. "Stand back. Let me look at you bitch boy". I stepped back and posed. She had me do a pirouette so she could see all of me. She smiled slyly, like she approved. "It's a shame we can't do anything about the body hair. You'd be really pretty if you were completely smooth". Just then she walked over to me, grabbed my neck and waist, and kissed me deeply. "I'm going to fuck you like the pretty little girl you are" she whispered in my ear. She kissed me again and then pushed down on my shoulders. I took that as a queue to kiss down her body, asking "sir, is this what you want?l. She moaned slightly and nodded her approval. I continued down her body to her beautiful breasts, carefully suckling each nipple to make it stand up. She moaned ever do slightly and said "lower". I went down further until I was kneeling in front of her, with the strap on in my face. "Suck my cock bitch boy. Suck it like the pretty little girl you are". I took it in my mouth hesitantly at first, but with a bit of guidance and encouragement was sucking her cock like it was my job. I knew this turned her on because the sweet aroma of her pussy was intensifying right behind the plastic cock and I could almost taste it. She pulled me back up, pushed me towards the bed, turned me to face it, and bent me over. "I'm going to fuck you so good now" she told me. I felt her hands on my hips, then a sharp spank, followed by the sensation of something wet oozing down my ass crack. Then I felt her fingers massaging my asshole in their masterful way relaxing it and preparing to enter me. She started with just a finger, then two. Her digits in me were thrilling. I was on the edge of orgasm already and we'd just started. She continued finger fucking me, adding lube, and stretching me out. Each thrust sent shocks of anticipation through my body and I soon found myself begging for her cock. Finally I felt her hands on my hips and the head of her cock pressed against my asshole. I pushed back on it to start the penetration and slowly eased myself all the way back with her pushing against me. Slowly she began to move around, easing it in and out of me as I acclimated to its girth inside me. The pace eventually quickened and she was fucking me deep and hard. I was moaning loudly with each thrust feeling like I'd orgasm at any moment. She pulled out and laid on the bed and ordered me to ride her cock, which I did. I assumed a reverse cowgirl so she could get a good show of her fucking my bitch boy ass, but she didn't like this and ordered me to turn around. I did, and she grabbed my cock while I rode hers. The combination of her stroking me while fucking me sent me flying over the edge and I ejaculated what seemed to be about a quart of hot sticky cum all over her body. As I rolled off, she reminded me I had to clean her up. I obliged and licked up every last drop, and then licked down her body. I unbuckled her strap-on, removed it, and admired her wet throbbing pussy. "It ain't gonna lick itself bitchboy" she said. The she grabbed my head and forcibly buried my face in her pussy. It wasnt long before she was moaning in the throws of her own intense orgasm. She finally shoved me away and laid on the bed next to me twitching slightly. "Thanks for that" she said. "You make for one sexy bitch". She then licked my face to taste herself before sending me to shower and get back to my day. I hope you enjoyed this from my BitchBoy as much as I have.... Room 612 Knock. Knock. My knuckles rapped the hotel door, each strike barely audible as if I intended not to disturb anyone from their slumber. Beating with vigor, my heart palpitated. A midday summer breeze off the ocean threw my blonde hair in my face, tickling my cheeks and eyelashes as well as littering the backs of my arms with goose bumps. Nervous hands pushed my hair back only for the August wind to double her efforts. Certain battles were never meant to be won. After waiting several seconds with no answer, I questioned whether I should leave with my morality and wedding vows in tact. I motioned to return to my room but something prevented me from leaving. My feet became as heavy as ballasts and my legs as still as the iron parapet behind me. Looking up at the number posted on the door, 612, I realized my lust had augmented in strength. Unable to keep my hand still, I raised my hand and knocked once again on the door, this time with added force. Saturday Just three days ago, Saturday, August 12th, my husband and our two teenage boys arrived at our summer vacation destination, Myrtle Beach South Carolina, with intentions of tearing up the links. Both of my boys, just like their father, live for the game of golf. Several times Wayne, my husband of eighteen years, has dragged me out onto a course only to regret ever doing so. Although I am athletic, actually earned a scholarship for dance back in my youth, I think I will never become adept at hitting a little white ball with a metal club. The few times Wayne and I shared a golf cart, we lost as much of our patience as we did balls. Now that the boys are old enough, Wayne never asks me to join him, which suits me just fine. Instead of a humbling experience on the fairways, I choose to read a book on the beach, soaking up the sun's rays and forgetting about the daily rigamarole that I left back in Michigan. Years ago, Wayne purchased a time share at a resort off the beach, just a quarter mile from his favorite course. After parking the van, Wayne had the boys carry our luggage to the lobby, where my husband proceeded to the check in counter. The concierge handled the transaction and asked if we needed any help carrying our bags to our room. "That's what I have two boys for," Wayne said with his salesman smile. We walked to the elevator and squeezed into the lift, barely managing to fit all of our luggage into the cramped space. Much to the chagrin of my husband, I tended to over pack for week long trips. Once on the 6th floor, the doors opened and we made our way to room 614, our home every second week of August. While we stood in front of our door, a tall black man wearing only his swimming trunks passed us. Years of weight lifting chiseled his upper body into statuesque perfection. With a chest that protruded over a hardened abdomen and biceps that resembled a world class athlete's, I could not help but draw a double take. Normally, I am not the kind of woman that looks at another man, especially a black man. Raised a good catholic, I try to remain pure in thought as well as action. Also, I grew up in a community that did not promote diversity and could not recall too many occurrences where I confronted black people. However, this charismatic, black man demanded my attention and felt compelled to give it to him. "Excuse me," the black adonis said, his voice the lower octave notes of a piano. My husband and boys nodded and scooted to the side, allowing this towering man to pass. Then our eyes made contact. Standing well over 6 feet 5 inches, this lumbering giant stared through the pupils of my eyes. A smile came to his face as he slowed his gait allowing him more time to soak in the meeting of our eyes. His eyes glanced down at my breasts, which showcased a little too much cleavage. Wearing a simple low cut white tank top with no bra, my 34B's were revealing more skin than concealing. When he lifted his eyes, he winked at me. Standing in his way, I reacted too slowly to allow him a passage through the aisle. "Excuse me, miss," he said in that low voice. As I backed a way, he brushed his stomach against my nipples. I am only 5'3" so his chest seemed to glide across my face. "Do you see how big that guy is?" Darren, my youngest said under his breath. "He's huge," my oldest said. "Probably a football player." My husband opened the door and the boys filed into our room. Before stepping inside, I glanced back and noticed the black man standing in front of the door next to ours. He stared at me with an intensity that rivaled the southern heat. He looked at my ass and then my breasts not caring that I knew he was being crude. Hesitating, I allowed him to stare at me. Then our eyes met and his mouth formed a sinister smile. Feeling insecure and ashamed, I nervously closed the door. While inside, I found myself thinking about our next door neighbor, wondering why he intrigued me so much. A part of me felt guilty for spending so much mental energy dreaming about his physique, however, the mind has a difficult time forgetting images of pure splendor and this black man, who stared at my body with unabashed desire, was close to perfect. Sunday The men went out golfing, leaving me to relax on the white sand. Wearing a yellow bikini, I lay on the beach with a book and a liter of water to keep me company. Losing myself in the plot (I am a sucker for romance novels,) I did not realize that the tide was coming in and that I had to move or suffer the steady inundation of waves. Picking up my towel, I retreated deeper inland. The white sand felt hot beneath my naked soles and I danced along the surface as if I walked along hot burning coals. Finding a vacant spot, I straightened out my towel between two elderly couples. Before laying down, I noticed my next door neighbor, that muscular black man, five meters away from me. He lay next to a beautiful black woman who owned boobs that spilled out of her top and a body as pristine as his. Noticing that I realized who he was, he nodded his head and gave me a wink. With a nervous smile, I returned his greeting and quickly laid on the towel. Opening up the book, I attempted to avoid any eye contact and delve back into my story, but I was unable to concentrate, rereading the same sentence several times. Picking my eyes up from the novel, I glanced his way and noticed that he was studying my figure. Although I did not possess a body as hard as his girl's, I kept in excellent shape and concentrated on maintaining a sexy physique. His prowling eyes made me feel uncomfortable. Not accustomed to a man's undivided attention, I felt awkward, almost embarrassed. With defeating results, I tried to return to my story. He caught me glancing back at him and he responded with a wave of his long index finger. Humiliated I dipped behind my book like a soldier running from heavy fire. Why did I keep glancing at this man? I wasn't that attracted to him was I? These questions began circulating inside my head, making me feel like an unchaste wife. Unable to hide forever, I peeked my eyes from the book and saw this towering man with midnight skin straddling the ass of his beautiful black woman. He rubbed oil into her shoulders and back, kneading his hands into her muscles. At that moment I noticed both of them wearing wedding bands. Although, his hands concentrated on working oil into his wife's skin, this black man's eyes were transfixed on me as if he envisioned that I lay between his legs and not his wife. With slow, erotic swipes of his hands, he re-sculpted his wife's body while he studied my figure. My breathing rate increased and the sun's rays poured down upon me with more potency. One long stroke after another, his lubricated hands traveled the length of her naked back. She sighed every time her husband's powerful and large hands compressed the small of her back and her ass. As this black man stared at me he wore a face of a man possessed, willing to do whatever it took to get what he wanted. His unwavering countenance struck fear in me because I felt powerless as I looked into his eyes as the heels of his hands continued to grind into his wife's muscles. Picking up my towel, I left the beach, but not before glancing back at this perfectly chiseled black man. His eyes followed me every step of my retreat until I escaped from view. When I returning to my room, I noticed my heart raced as if I ran a 400 meter sprint and my nipples were as hard as metal tacks. Monday "Goodbye honey," Wayne said as he kissed me on the cheek. I could smell his normal dosage of cologne. Rolling over, I attempted to return the kiss but he was already making his way toward the door, ready to play another eighteen holes. "Goodbye," I said in a groggy voice. "Do you need any money?" "No, I have the credit cards," I said. "Be careful. Don't get too crazy." "I'll probably just relax on the beach again," I said sitting up against the headboard. "Okay, enjoy." "Good luck." "There's only bad luck involved when I play," Wayne said. Before leaving, he peeked his head inside the door and said in a low audible voice, "Sorry, I fell asleep last night. I promise to make it up to you tonight." "That's okay." Then Wayne was gone, the boys already waiting for him in the lobby. Last night, I was sexually charged, which was uncharacteristic for me. Wayne always played the aggressor, which suited me just fine. However, it was I who came on to Wayne when we retired for the evening. I got on top of him the same way that black man got on top of his wife. I rubbed my hands into my husband's back, using my weight as leverage, trying to mimic the movements of our neighbor. I remembered being wet with anticipation for a great night of sex only to hear my husband snoring within minutes of my massage. Apparently, my erotic hopes had been dashed before they could even line up in the start blocks. Easing myself into my day, I made myself a pot of coffee, watched the news, and ate a donut (a true treat because I usually avoid sweets like the plague.) Then I sat on the balcony and listened to the waves crash onto shore for nearly an hour as I read my romance novel, the dirty parts being read with a voracious appetite. With the view too beautiful to resist, I put down my book and perused through my bathing suits ready to enjoy a walk on the beach. Initially, I selected a patriotic bikini that would have made George Washington proud, but then I thought of that colossal man straddling his wife, his biceps bulging with each stroke. His body moved with poetry and raw animalistic urges. I recalled his chiseled chest, stomach, and arms as well as his magnetic eyes, remembering when he passed by me in the aisle and when he stared at me on the beach. With fantasies of what it would feel like to have his hands touching me, I put the patriotic swimsuit back and culled a tiny, red string bikini that my husband bought me years ago for my birthday. I never wore it because in my mind it lacked enough material to qualify as a garment of clothing but Wayne managed to pack it for me every summer. Constructed of nothing but strings, the material just managed to cover my nipples and nothing more, leaving my boobs practically exposed. The bottom was a g-string, which set high up on my hips and left very little to the imagination Realizing that I had too much pubic hair to wear such a risque garment, I took a quick bath and shaved my lower region completely bald, something I had never done before. Slipping into the kite string bikini, I looked naked. Studying myself in the mirror, I appraised my body, wondering if a 38 year old mother of two should wear something so revealing in public. Maybe it was the book I was reading or maybe it was the residue of still being sexually charged or maybe it was the black man I could not stop thinking about, but I thought I looked worthy of wearing such a suit. I possessed enough muscle tone to stave off any fat but still owned a feminine figure. "I look good," I whispered to myself as I slid my hands across my body. Then I grabbed a towel and sun glasses and made my way toward the elevator. I felt awkward when the door opened and two elderly men were already waiting inside. I stepped to their left and tried covering myself with the towel but the geriatrics's eyes had already been called to attention. I could feel their stares as the elevator descended sixty-five feet. Once the door opened, I nearly sprinted toward the beach with my towel wrapped around my entire body like a robe covering my entire frame. I looked around for my huge, black neighbor but could find him no where. Disappointed, I walked up and down the shoreline for at least a half mile in both directions (my towel draped around me the entire time) until I realized that he was not on the beach. Suddenly, I started to panic. What if he left and went home? Like a school girl gravely stung by the prospect that her crush would never ask her out on a date, I was crestfallen. Returning to the stretch of sand in front of my resort, I inconspicuously laid out the towel and rested my backside on it so my naked ass was hidden from any roaming eyes. As the sun beat down on me, I forgot I was wearing such a slutty bikini and nearly fell asleep until I was accosted by figure shading the sun from view. "You better get some sun block on you," a voice said. I opened my eyes and my black neighbor stood above me, his body dripping wet, speckles of water sprinkled over his mammoth frame. Caught by surprise I did not know how to respond. His wet swimming trunks clung to his legs, revealing the outline of his cock. Like everything else on this man, his equipment between his legs was as large as the rest of him. I tried not to stare but realized that I was wearing sun glasses and took my time soaking up the image. He was gorgeous. "Want me to put some on you?" "I don't need any, thank you," I said. Bending down to a single knee, he reached forward, touched my shoulder, and then slid it across my left breast. Shocked, I leaned back on my elbows as his hand practically groped my boob. "You're already burned right here," the black man said. "You better let me put some lotion on you." "All right." "Turn over," he said Doing as I was told, I rolled over, completely forgetting that I was a married woman and another man touching me could be a sin. "Oh, look what we have here," he said. I blushed. He sat down upon my naked ass (only a single string running up from the crack.) Against my right cheek I could feel his growing cock, which felt like an extra limb expanding from his lower abdomen. I heard him snap open a lotion bottle. Then I heard his palms rubbing together, the friction adding tension and anticipation. When his hands came to my skin, they covered my entire back running from one side of my body to the other. His hands were as large as baseball mitts. Oh God, his hands felt like a piece of heaven as he stroked them up and down my back. Without asking, he lowered his hands to my ass and kneaded each buttock. Then he'd run his fingers along my rib cage, feeling the sides of my breasts and return back to my ass via my spine, only to repeat the journey. "You wore this bikini for me didn't you?" I didn't answer, too embarrassed to admit the truth. "I said, you wore this for me, didn't you?" he asked with a voice that bordered on being upset. "Yes," I said meekly. I could feel his cock grow against my ass. It felt scary big. His hands were strong and I felt vulnerable lying beneath him. With his fingers he parted my ass, holding a cheek in each hand. I could tell he was looking at my pussy. "You've been thinking about me, haven't you?" he asked. "Yes." Surrounded by people, he did not show any discretion as he inserted an index finger between my inner legs and rubbed it against my pussy. Never had another man besides Wayne, before my marriage or after, touched me down there. Half of me was shocked and appalled. Another half of me melted. He massaged my inner lips with the magic of a professional masseur. As one finger rotated my clitoris the other hand roamed up the length of my back and along the sides of my body. What was I doing letting a man touch me down there? Before I allowed my guilt to usurp my actions, this black adonis penetrated my pussy, burying his index finger to the webbing of his hand. It felt bigger than my husband's penis and it was only a single finger. Never had something pushed into me as deeply and caused me to moan as instinctually. "That's it baby," he said in my ear. Then a pang of conscience shot through me and I tried to sit up. "What's the matter?" he asked. "I shouldn't be doing this. Please get off of me." Ignoring me, he reinserted his finger into my pussy. Pushing it deep into me with more force and using his index digit to massage my insides. He tickled my inner wall, causing a sensation I had never experience before. Oh God, I did not know what he was doing but it felt as if he was controlling my body by pushing some sort of button inside of me. "Please. Please. Please get off of me." "You want me to fuck you don't you," he whispered into my ear. "Oh God," I said, never being talked to in such a crude fashion. "Please stop." "I said, you want me to fuck you don't you?" For the first time in my life I actually considered the notion of another man inside of me as I openly wondered what a different cock would feel like if it penetrated me. Feeling his finger swirling around in circles as well as his enormous hard-on pressed against me left leg, my inhibitions crumbled into something malleable and unstructured. My wedding vows were pushed to the corner of forgot and I concentrated on my own sexual satisfaction and yearning. He repeated his question as well as his hand movements, his voice as much a challenge as it was a threat. I felt vulnerable and completely bending to his will. Then my legs squeezed together, every muscle in my body contorting and I tried to muffle my voice, realizing that I was in public. Still, a high pitched whimper escaped my pressed lips as a flood of pleasure overwhelmed me. After I came, his long, black finger withdrew from my wet pussy and remained sitting on the back of my legs. His hands returned to rubbing my back, the people around me thinking this man was simply spending a lot of time applying sun block to my body. More so than before, I felt the giant monster being held captive inside this black man's swimming trunks, waiting to be unleashed. Seconds ago I actually considered the notion of letting another man fuck me but now it seemed sinful and immoral. I felt dirty. "Please stop. Get off me." He moved to one knee and looked at me after I sat up erect. I averted his stare, feeling ashamed of what had just transpired. I've just cheated on my husband, I thought, as the realization of what happened sunk into my consciousness. "Let's go upstairs to my room," he suggested. "This should never have happened." "Why you wearing that then? You wanted it, don't deny it," he said. "I've got to go," I said, not wanting to discuss what occurred. I just wanted to ignore it, forget that it ever happened. Grabbing my towel, not even bothering to shake off the sand, I wrapped it around me. The sand clung to the sweat, caking my skin, soiling my body. Dirty, I lowered my head, avoiding eye contact with every person. Did anyone actually see what happened? I thought, afraid that someone I knew saw the black stranger's hand between my legs. Fear caused me to think the worst and it pushed my legs toward the resort. "Don't go," a deep voice said behind me. This time I did not turn back. I ran to the stairs and charged up six flights, trying to escape the lust the followed me. Once back to my room, I tore the little red bikini from my body but not before seeing it on me in the mirror's reflection. I look like a slut and a whore, I thought. Turning on the cold water, I jumped into the shower and let the water act as an ablution. The water washed away the dirt and sweat, but it could not remove what had happened. Sitting down on the tub, my blonde hair soaking up the cold water, I buried my head into my hands. Room 612 "What have I done? Dammit, Ashley, you're a goddamn fool!" Tuesday "You seemed really distant last night," Wayne said as we ate breakfast together. The boys were still sleeping in the other room. "I'm sorry." "Nothing to be sorry about. I just got the impression that you were upset at me." "No, that's not it at all," I said, my nightgown wrapped around me tighter than normal. "I just want us to spend a day together as a family." "The boys were hoping to hit the Elkwood today. We have a 10:00 tee time scheduled. They'd be disappointed if we missed it." "I just have been by myself the entire time. I felt lonely yesterday." "We went out to dinner and walked on the boardwalk," Wayne argued. "We spent the entire night together. Then you were so cold afterward. It was like I did something wrong." "I don't want to argue," I said. "Good, then we'll spend another night together, maybe see a movie or something. The boys have been looking forward to playing the Elkwood. They have a par three where the green is completely surrounded by water. Darren claims he's not going to sink any balls into the drink this year." "All right," I said, surrendering to my husband as usual. Wayne always got his way. He wore the pants in the relationship. I won very few arguments. Never get in an argument with a lawyer or a salesman. They both make you feel like crap afterward. Like many women trying to forget about something awful, I went shopping. Putting a dent into my credit cards, I bought myself a pair of shoes, several different outfits (three of them at clearance prices,) and some cleansing products. Soon, the events from yesterday were quashed, at least for the moment. An active mind cannot dwell on the past. However, underneath my consciousness lay a swelling of regret waiting to emerge and assume control over my body and mind. When I returned to the resort, I decided to eat at Nostramo's, a fancy restaurant inside the resort. It was a relaxing place with many aquariums of colorful fish adding to the decor. Ordering the salmon and a glass of Chardonnay, I eased back in my seat and became mesmerized by the hypnotic fish swimming in futile circles. Sipping on the wine and enjoying my salad, I awaited my main course, which arrived as soon as I finished my salad. The salmon was magnificent. As I ate, the waiter returned with another glass of wine. "I'm sorry, I didn't order another glass," I said. "This was sent by a man sitting over there," the waiter said, pointing in the direction of the bar. My black adonis sat at the bar and looked at me from afar. He raised his glass and I found myself mirroring his actions. Suddenly, yesterday's mistakes resurfaced like a fossil being dug up by a archeologist. As the waiter walked away, the black man who finger fucked me on the beach less than 24 hours ago stood up and approached my table. He took a seat next to me. "Let me introduce myself. I'm Rodney," he said with an extended hand, roleplaying the gentleman as if we were both single and he was courting my favor. I hesitated before offering him my hand. "I'm Ashley." Rodney brought my hand to his mouth and kissed it, his negro lips plump and full. "So, where is your husband?" "Where is your wife?" "Spending my money. Where's your husband?" "Wasting his time on a golf course." Rodney laughed. "Looks like we're the smart ones in the relationship. Eating at a nice restaurant, enjoying each others company." "Rodney, what happened yesterday was a mistake." There I got it off my chest. It felt cathartic to release it. "I'm a happily married woman and I would never jeopardize my relationship with my husband." "Did you enjoy it yesterday?" "That's not the point," I said. "Ashley, answer my question. Did you enjoy my hands rubbing your body yesterday?" I couldn't answer, ashamed to speak the truth, feeling that I would only add layers of guilt by doing so. "What's wrong with answering a simple question? Did you enjoy me touching your body?" With great reluctance, I answered. "Yes." "Did you enjoy my finger inside your pussy?" Rodney asked, comfortable speaking with such candor. "You're making me feel uncomfortable," I said. "Nothing to be ashamed about. We're both adults here. Did you enjoy my hand in your pussy or not? Simple question." "Yes." "You came quick." I couldn't meet his eye. Instead I took a large sip of the wine. "It took you less than 30 seconds. You wanted it Ashley. You wanted it bad," Rodney said, scooting a little closer to me. Putting his hand on my thigh, he asked, "Ashley, you ever been with a black man before?" Turning, I found the confidence to look him in his eye. "I've never been with another man besides my husband period." Rodney let out a guffaw that echoed off the walls and reverberated throughout the restaurant. "No wonder you came so quick. I barely touched you. I can tell you wanna' fuck another man." "How?" I said defensively. "Because as soon as poked my finger in your pussy, you came. Girl, your husband must not be getting it done. Any man who leaves his wife at the beach, dressed the way you were, to play golf, not only has his priorities messed up, he's not fucking his wife good enough." Rodney started massaging my inner thigh. "Stop that." "Tell me you don't like it." I opened my mouth but realized I would be lying if I told him so. He smiled realizing that he was right. "It's just not right. We're both married." "How wet are you right now?" "Don't do this to me," I said. Rodney took my hand. "Feel how hard you're making me right now. I've been thinking about fucking your white ass ever since I saw you." Rodney placed my hand in his crotch. I felt a python that ran down Rodney's thigh and didn't end until it nearly came to his knee. It felt fake as if he stuck one of those abnormally large dildos in his pants. I never thought a man's penis could be so large and thick. "Oh my God. Is that thing you're penis?" Rodney smiled. "It's my dick. You are innocent." "How can you tell?" "The words you use," he said as his hands dipped underneath my skirt and explored between my legs. He found my panties and lurked a finger behind the fabric. "Girl, you're panties are wet. You're dripping down there." His hand massaged my clit as my hand remained fixed on his tree trunk lying along his left thigh. "Rodney, don't do this to me. I want to remain faithful." "Ashley, it feels good don't it?" "Oh yes, but..." "But, nothing, girl. Do something for yourself for once. I'm going to go back to my room and wait for you. I want to fuck you like you've never been fucked before. I swear once you feel my dick inside your cunt, you'll never crave your husband again. You won't regret a thing. How can you? How can you regret something that's going to feel so goddamn good," Rodney said as he teased my clit with his fingers. I closed my eyes and my body shivered. "Jesus, girl, you almost came didn't you?" I nodded. Rodney withdrew his hand. "Ashley, I'll be waiting for you upstairs. You know my room number. It's 612." Then he leaned forward and kissed me. It was not a short embrace but a long passionate one, where our lips came together and I soon felt his tongue push inside my mouth. His hand held the back of my head as he pressed his lips against mine. He was strong and I felt like I couldn't move. Soon, I found myself making out with him like a schoolgirl sharing her first passionate kiss. My tongue pushed his back and he enjoyed the parry. Then he released me and I looked deep into his eyes, wanting more. "I'm going to fuck the shit out of you Ashley." Then he turned and walked away, leaving me sitting at my seat, my lungs heaving for oxygen. I watched him leave. Nervously, I took my full glass of wine and downed it with one gulp. My body trembled. Never had I felt so much lust. My god, I though, I really want to go upstairs and meet him. I called the waiter over and he acquiesced to my command. "May I get the bill?" "Your friend picked up the tab for you." "He did?" "Yes," the waiter said with a courteous smile. He looked at me and I could tell that the idea of a petite blonde girl such as myself with a large, black man aroused him. I felt naughty. "Let me at least give you a tip." Holding up his hand, he stopped me. "No, he more than took care of that as well. Everything is taken care of." "All right, sure." "Enjoy yourself, Mam," he said, with an envious grin and wink. Then I picked myself up and walked toward the bathroom. Once inside I splashed some cold water on my face. "Wake up, Ashley," I said. Do you really want to commit adultery? I asked myself. Cupping one handful of water after the other, I washed my face, but I could not wash away my desire. Looking around the bathroom, I noticed that I was alone. I looked in the mirror and realized my nipples were standing on guard, poking through my bra and blouse. Never had they been so hard. Slipping a hand between my legs, I felt myself. My panties felt like I had just pulled them out of the washer they were so wet. My body was telling me to do one thing and my head was pleading a different case. In the court of emotions, the body and mind rarely saw eye to eye. Drying my hands, I left Nostramo's, not knowing what I was going to do. Moments later... Knock. Knock. My knuckles rapped the hotel door, each strike barely audible as if I intended not to disturb anyone from their slumber. Beating with vigor, my heart palpitated. A midday summer breeze off the ocean threw my blonde hair in my face, tickling my cheeks and eyelashes as well as littering the backs of my arms with goose bumps. Nervous hands pushed my hair back only for the August wind to double her efforts. Certain battles were never meant to be won. After waiting several seconds with no answer, I questioned whether I should leave with my morality and wedding vows in tact. I motioned to return to my room but something prevented me from leaving. My feet became as heavy as ballasts and my legs as still as the iron parapet behind me. Looking up at the number posted on the door, 612, I realized my lust had augmented in strength. Unable to keep my hand still, I raised my hand and knocked once again on the door, this time with added force. Knock. Knock. The door opened. Rodney stood in the foyer wearing nothing but a pair of boxer shorts. I peeked down and saw the head of his cock, a large purple bulb, sticking out from under the left leg's material. Standing in place I said nothing. Taking my hand, he pulled me into his room and closed the door. Pushing me against the wall, he kissed me like he did in the restaurant but this time he held me back with two powerful arms. He was so much taller than myself; so much stronger than myself; so much darker than myself. I am a petite woman and felt like a child before this black giant. Lowering his lips to my neck, I felt his mouth suck up my skin. With his hands, he took hold of my breasts and squeezed each boob as if letting go would cause him to fall to the floor. He took off my blouse and unfastened my bra like a pro. My clothes fell to the ground, leaving me exposed. Rodney brought his mouth to my right nipple. He suckled on it with so much more force than Wayne. Rodney attacked my body. His lips and tongue darted from one nipple to the other. His hands squeezed my boobs, pain mixing with pleasure. Looking down, I kept my eyes open, watching the contrast of skin colors as he made love to my breasts. His dark chocolate tone versus my fair cream colored skin made an erotic dichotomy. I never thought it was possible but as he sucked on my tits, I felt a rush of pleasure inundate me. I came. "Damn, girl. Did you come?" "Yes." "Shit, that's just the appetizer, baby." Unlike yesterday, feelings of regret did not follow my orgasm. I wanted Rodney. I wanted him more than anything I had ever wanted before. He fell to his knees and pulled down my skirt and panties in one swift tug. "I love bald pussy," he said before parting my legs and licking my inner lips. "Damn girl, you're as wet as an ocean!" I moaned as he returned to tasting my pussy. I felt his tongue lap up my juices as his upper lip pressed against my clitoris. He operated with slow, long strokes of the tongue as his lips vibrated. I was about to come again but he pulled back, allowing the ecstacy to mount more pressure. Tilting my head back against the wall, I closed my eyes and just soaked up the pleasure of this man's mouth making love to my pussy. Several times he brought me to the brink only to retreat. Then I could take in no longer and I locked my thighs around his cheeks and my body went through a series of jolted convulsions that I had never felt. I screamed out, a passionate cry. Never had I yelled that loud after an orgasm. Still, I wanted more. Falling to my knees, I took Rodney's boxer shorts and pulled them down. Springing outward was a cock so monstrous and colossal, I stared at it before touching it. "Oh my God!" I gasped. Rodney smiled, proud of his endowment. "Go ahead baby, suck my dick." Grabbing the base with both hands, Rodney's shaft still extended outward several more inches before ending at that enormous head. Opening my mouth, I tried to get the head inside but his dick kept pushing against my teeth. Widening my mouth until my jaws hurt, I tried to take his cock in my mouth. It was so large that I was only able to fit a portion of the head inside and that was with a lot of my teeth scraping his skin. With sore jaws, I pulled his hard, black monster from my mouth and resorted to licking it like an ice cream cone. The tip was wet, pre-cum oozing from his aperture every time my hands squeezed his shaft. "You're too big. There's no way you'll fit this inside of me," I said. "It'll fit. I want you to look up at me while you lick my dick." I obeyed. "Jack your hands back and forth while you lick it. That's it baby. Lick that dick." After several minutes of tasting his pre-cum, Rodney picked me as if I weighed little more than an infant. Then he carried me and laid me on the mattress in the master bedroom. He sat me down and spread my legs. "Wait," I said. "What's the matter baby?" "You've got to wear a condom. My husband had a vasectomy and I no longer use any protection." "I'm not wearing no condom," Rodney said. "Rodney, please." Ignoring me, he took his colossal cock and began rubbing the massive head along my pussy lips. Up and down, he massaged my pussy. "Damn girl, this is the wettest pussy, I've ever felt," he said as he continued to work his dick between my legs. "Rodney, put a condom on," I barely uttered as I watched this well built specimen of a black man stand between my parted legs. Then he eased the head of his cock into my pussy. I felt the inner walls of my vagina expand. I could feel the veins and contours of his black dick. Immediately, I came, pushing his dick back out. Rodney smiled and then parted my legs. Reinserting his dick, he pushed the head into my pussy and then eased several more inches inside. It felt like Rodney was attempting to drive a two liter bottle inside of me, but Rodney worked slowly. With a rhythmic motion, he began to pump in and out of me, moving the log to and fro. Increasing speed, I realized that he was fucking me deeper than Wayne ever could and Rodney still had more than half of his cock outside of my pussy. I came again. Then Rodney pushed with all his force and jabbed his dick inside of me. The head hit my cervix and I could accommodate him no more. At least 9 inches were buried inside my pussy and I could still reach down and take a handful of Rodney's shaft. My big, black adonis started really fucking me then. He pounded my little white pussy and I came in waves. He grunted as he held me down with his muscular arms, calling me obscene names. Feeling his balls whack the back of my ass with every thrust, I felt as if I was being whipped and flogged for my sins. He twisted and turned me in all kinds of positions. Rodney fucked me doggie style, missionary, with my ankles touching my ears, while I laid on my side, and while I was on top. He was rough and treated me like a masturbatory doll. I meant nothing to him but to bring pleasure to his cock. His stamina was ungodly. Losing count of my orgasms, I became dizzy and disoriented. With my strength zapped, he laid me down on my back once more. "I'm going to cum inside of you." "Don't." Holding me down, he reinserted his cock in my pussy, which had dilated to accept his girth. Plunging deep into me, his head thumped against my inner organs. I could literally feel his cock in my stomach. Rodney wore a sadistic look on his face as he pounded his dick inside of me. It was like he was trying to hurt me with his cock and it did hurt but he brought me equal amounts of pleasure. I came once again, in what seemed like an endless climax for me. I screamed as Rodney continued to shove his big, black dick inside of me. "Did I fuck you better than your husband?" "Oh god, yes!" "Whose the best?" "You are?" "Tell me, whose the best?" Rodney hollered at me. "I love you Rodney!" I could not believe I said that but at that moment I meant it. Never had a person brought me so much pleasure and I loved this man, willing to do anything for him. "Come inside of me!" Then Rodney pulled my little body toward him, thrusting his dick in as far as I would accommodate him, and he let out a grunt that resembled the roar of a mountain lion. His cock swelled inside of me and then I felt an explosion of cum. Rodney roared as he resumed pounded my pussy, squeezing every last drop into the deepest part of my womb. With his cock still inside of my pussy he collapsed on top of me, his large muscular chest squishing my breasts. As he laid his weight on top of me, he kissed me. We made out, basking in the afterglow while his cock remained buried inside me. I moaned as we kissed. Feeling rivulets of sperm drip out of my pussy and run down the crack of my ass, I worried that I was pregnant but after feeling his lips pressed against my own, a part of me hoped that to be the truth. With slow, methodical strokes, Rodney resumed fucking me, making love to me. Never losing his firmness, Rodney thrust his virileness into the depths of my vagina for what seemed to be an eternity. He lay on top of me, kissing me as he slowly pulled in and out of my pussy. We whispered things I thought I would never tell another man nor hear from another man. At that moment, I loved Rodney and wanted to be with him forever. I told him this several times as our eyes were transfixed on each other, our bodies melded together. Then he came again, depositing another load in my waiting womb. I joined him in a mutual climax that was tantamount to two souls merging as one. Looking at the clock, Rodney realized that we had been fucking for nearly 4 hours. "You gotta go, Ashley. My wife's going be back any minute." I tried to kiss him but he pulled back. He withdrew his cock as if he was allergic to me. Cum followed his dick. Looking down, I was amazed at the amount of sperm that had been lodged inside of me. "Bitch, you gotta go!" Nodding, I made it to my feet. More sperm drained out of my pussy and left trails down my inner thighs. Gathering my clothes in the foyer, I realized I could barely walk. Never had I experienced such carnal pleasure. Looking once more for a goodbye kiss, Rodney was already in the shower, washing away my scent that I left everywhere on his body. When I opened the door, I returned to my own room. "Where have you been?" Wayne said from the couch. He was munching on some chips, watching television. "Just out," I said as a wave of guilt swarmed over me. Without saying a word, I went toward the bathroom and locked the door. Stripping my clothes, I looked in the mirror. Hickies stained my neck and breasts. My vagina felt like a person could drive a bus through it, the muscles stretched out to their limitations. Starting the water, I pulled the shower head and stepped into the tub. Water beat on my body. As I rinsed away the sperm that spilled from me, a smile broadened across my face. Somewhere in my mind, an avalanche of shame would question my decision, but I could not help but recall how good Rodney fucked me today and how no man would ever take me to where I had just been. Closing my eyes, I recalled every touch and penetration as the water flowed over my skin. Room 621 "Who the hell are you?" I asked, pulling the hotel's Etro robe around me. The stranger standing in the doorway looked confused and surprised. "621, right?" she said in perfect boarding school English while consulting her room key. This being a hotel that still used real brass keys instead of those plastic credit card facsimiles. A charming place in the Seventh Arrondissment where the sheets were Pratesi, soaps Rogers & Gallet, the tub chin-deep and the bed's comforter airy Hungarian goose down. I had just drifted off into a lovely post steaming-hot bath and Remy XO haze. Thirteen time zones, four in-flight movies and a nasty breakup with a boyfriend of seven years will do that to you. For a moment, I imagined the key I heard in the lock was the room service dinner I hadn't yet ordered. My big city alarm bells should have had me making a desperate lunge for the pepper spray buried somewhere deep in the confines of that Fendi baguette bag that was just so perfect last season. But the sight of this delicate Asian beauty in a skintight Helmut Lang little black something or other set me at ease. "Sri Lanka." "Pardon me," I asked. "You were wondering where I was from, right?" she responded without a trace of annoyance, pushing an errant strand of stylishly cut jet black hair behind her ear. I began to stammer a denial. "My father was Sri Lankan, my mother Phillipino, I grew up in Singapore, live in Hong Kong, work in Rome and I've had a standing reservation for this suite every Friday night for last four months. "621." Confirming that even if we had nothing else in common, certainly not my tall angular body with too little on top, nor my light blue eyes with their heavy eyebrows that one diplomatic lover likened to a pair of rococo picture frames. And certainly not my skin, pale from far too many months in London's perpetual gloom. Especially compared to hers', so smooth and lusciously light cocoa that it reminded me of the foil-wrapped treat the chambermaid would leave on the pillow right before bedtime. No, the only thing she and I shared was the key to this room. "621." Now I was beginning to feel like I was the one who had trespassed. Or at least, that was how I was feeling 45 minutes ago, before we'd worked our way through a bottle of the hotel's house champagne, Pommery, a plate of Moroccan figs and a wedge of perfectly ripe Camembert. And I learned that her standing reservation for this suite -- my suite, had to do with a certain married Swedish industrialist. And that the hotel was completely booked. As was, apparently, every other decent hotel in Paris. And that her relationship with him was both intimate, complicated and involved certain financial considerations. It was that last detail that piqued my journalistic interest and got me out of bed. Although not necessarily in that order. "Look, do you want to freshen up or something? Take a shower, maybe." Her utterly composed demeanor deflated into a look of complete gratitude that touched my heart. "I took my knickers off somewhere over the Sahara" pulling something insubstantially sheer and lacy from her oversized Bottega Veneta carry-on as a proof offering. "That flight from Capetown takes forever and I just couldn't stand it anymore." In a girlish gesture of camaraderie, she left the bathroom door ajar so we could continue chatting. Without even a trace of inhibition as I heard musical tinkling in the toilet and the Zen garden sounds of the bidet afterwards. "Sorry, I just need a clip for my hair." The bath towel was wrapped low around her waist, sarong-style as she rummaged around in one of her bags. Her breasts were perfectly round and taut. High on her chest. And not a trace of tan lines. In her dress I'd thought "implants for sure." But I was wrong. Or if they were, they were the best set of fakes I'd ever seen. Which leads me to a moment of explanation as I'm not usually in the habit of staring at other women's breasts. But through the boyfriend I had just broken up with, I'd discovered that I possessed a taste for the kind of hardcore porn where a woman with natural breasts was a rare bird indeed. Raunchy porn, pizza and a poke -- our standing Friday night date. Momentarily alone while she showered, I cupped my own breasts, barely able to fill my small hands and wondered how breasts the size of hers' would feel. The weight of them. Unlike mine which made a bra more of a frilly accessory than a true supporting cast member. How fun it would be to wake up and match what the world was going to see to my mood du jour. Soft curves hinted at under a high neck. Naked sexuality exposed through something daringly plunging. Or you won't know anything at all until you get me home and unwrap me. No with me, it was push ups, gel pads, miracles, wonders, divine intervention and the holy grail. Although somewhere along the way I'd gotten in the habit of mixing sheer fabrics with a good firm pinch of the nipples just to show that I wasn't completely boyish. "I can't tell you how grateful I am," she said emerging from the steamy confines of a marble clad bathroom nearly bigger than my entire flat back home. "So this boyfriend of yours?" I asked, taking in the sight of her in the shorter version of the hotel robe I was wearing. I guess I'd taken the man's version off the brass peg without thinking. Her legs was long, sleek and muscular. Particularly her calves. How the hell does one have a busy career and stay that fit, I wondered. "Erik. We should probably leave it at that," she said. No, I'm long past the point of deluding myself into thinking, boyfriend." They'd met at a conference in Cairo. He offered to drop her off in Rome on his way back to Stockholm. There were no scheduling problems when you own the G-V and the flight crew's uniforms are embroidered with your initials. "No, once I came to terms with our relationship -- high priced call girl by circumstance, still allows me some measure of respect when I look in the mirror." "I'm not judging but can I ask, why" thinking back to a live-in relationship with a well-off financial type that wasn't going to work out. I smiled and moaned at all the right times, patiently waiting for the pay increase that would allow me to leave him and move to a nicer flat in a better neighborhood. "I love the way you taste," I'd say, wiping my mouth and batting my intense blue eyes at him. "A nice watch, earrings after a long weekend in Scotland" pushing back her hair to reveal a pair of simple stones. Fuck, at least a two carats each! "I mentioned once that I was saving up to buy a new car. By that point, cash on the dresser didn't seem like much of a leap," she said as she settled into the Louis XVI couch and drew her legs up underneath herself. I walked over to the balcony doors and took in early evening view of the city. Not on a floor high enough to provide a true panorama, but still unmistakably Parisian. "Are you sure you don't mind me being here? I could take an overnight train back to Rome. He's not going to show up anyway. It's happened before" In truth I was glad for the company. And what else was I going to do tonight. Wander the streets and break down into pathetic sobs every time I saw a couple who looked happy. The rest of the weekend was packed with interviews, but tonight was going to be tough. "So you two would meet here once a week. Then what?" I'd always been fascinated with other people's sex lives. Which probably explained the porn fascination. "If you could call we did making love. The thing about men who seem very powerful in public is that..." she hesitated for a moment. "Well, often, they're just the opposite in private." "You mean, he couldn't, you know," I asked, having had a more than a few of those "you knows" in my lifetime. Not surprising since alcoholics and journalists often seemed to ride the same trams. "No, not that. But once he developed a certain level of comfort with me. It's just that his tastes were unconventional." "What do you mean," now thoroughly intrigued. Did I mention that her name was Chakira. Hindu for golden light. Laughing, she got up off the couch and walked over to her suitcase. The back of her robe stuck a little to her damp skin. No tan lines on her bottom either. "What's that for?" I knew what she was holding but hadn't quite figured out how it entered into their lovemaking. A complicated black harness with lots of dangling straps and buckles. A huge translucent pink dildo answered my question. "You mean, you'd use that on him?" I asked incredulously. "Wouldn't it hurt?" It was at least nine inches long, veiny and a lot thicker than anything I'd ever seen before. Not that I hadn't hoped. "That's the idea," Chakira answered. "Or maybe it was just the humiliation of being fucked up the arse by a woman. Who knows? Anyway, he seemed to like it." "How does this thing work?" I asked. "Stand up and I'll show you." It was at this moment that I felt like we'd taken a step into unsettled territory. And unexplored, save a few giggly experiments at boarding school. Despite a momentary reluctance, I stood obediently and passively in front of her while she loosened the tie to my robe. "Pretty, pretty" she said commenting on the way I'd trimmed my pubic hair. Shaved, in the manner of a porn girl, all but for a little light brown strip in front. What does one say when another women comments favorably on your pubic hair style? "Thanks, I think." "Open your legs a little wider." An order. Hands and buckles and straps being cinched. Reaching around my waist and through my legs. Close but not quite. And a little shiver as I felt a warm breath at the very top of my leg. "Is that too tight?" I let out an embarrassed giggle when I finally looked down. "Take your robe off so you can really see it" she said enthusiastically. Her hands deftly found their way inside my opened robe, pushing it off my shoulders. I stepped out of the crumpled heap on the floor, nude but for this strange apparatus floating about my hips. As I stood in front of the room's ornate full-length mirror, slightly oxidized with age, I couldn't help but want to take it in two hands and start waving it around. It was at once, sexy and funny and powerful. "You'd use this on him?" I asked again. "Well, not that exact one. We only use them once. This one is new." Chakira came up behind me and put her hands on my hips. Admiring the sight in the mirror with me. Out of heels she was maybe an inch or two shorter than I was. "Do you like it?" she asked. What? The dildo? Her proximity? Her hands on my hips? Or now, not on my hips. But gliding up, cupping my breasts. Her full lips? Or the soft kiss she just planted on the nape of my neck. Do I like it? The goose pimples answering more eloquently than I ever could. Chakira's short robe also open. I could feels her full breasts pressing into my back. I wanted to touch them. This was all very strange. Do I like it? Her hands, like a musical whisper of silk, floating everywhere at once. I instinctively pressed back into her. And when our mouths finally found each other. After we'd sorted out where that over-sized dildo would go. She, on her tiptoes, the hard cock pressed between our bellies like a shared secret, I was taken by how small her mouth was. Soft. Warm. But smaller than what I was used to. A man. I wondered if she was thinking the same thing. And those breasts. God, they felt good in my hands. The breasts I'd always wished I'd had. It's no wonder men were breast obsessed. I wanted to keep playing with them but Chakira slid down on her knees. Taking my false appendage in her mouth. First, just the head. And then a little more. And then a lot more. "How do you do that without gagging," I asked amazed. "A minor talent," she said with a matter-of-factness, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. I tried to pretend as she sucked the pink dildo, obviously enjoying herself. But then didn't have to when she worked her thumb under the base of the harness and found my clit. Aching for attention. My knees buckled a little at just how right it felt. And after that, I didn't have to pretend. And when two slender fingers worked their way inside. No, worked is wrong. My insides were so slippery, it was if I drew her inside me, I knew I was going to lose it. Or give it up. I didn't care. The sight of this magnificent woman, put together far better than I ever could be on my best day, sucking a cock -- my cock, pushed me over the edge. And that guttural voice, "suck me, right there, oh god," where was it coming from? I wasn't sure. Nor was I sure how I ended up on the floor, legs in the air spread wide apart. The dildo doubled back on itself. Chakira fucking me with my own penis. Hard. Deep. God this thing is thick. Would an average sized one ever feel as good? And then harder still. A manic piston driven to a furious blur. Over and over again until the power of it shattered into a sweetness that made my jaw ache. And finally the last of my ragged cries subsided into a lip biting whimper. Pain. Joy. Relief. After I'd rested a few minutes, Chakira finally, slowly pulled the glistening dildo out of my pussy and took it into her own mouth. Staring at me with a feral quality, as if to say, "I was hers." It was at this point where thing took a strange turn. Not that the evening hadn't been strange enough. But as I pushed her down and put my lips over hers, the normal sequence of events, the give and take, reciprocation. I mean, it was my turn after all. Not that I didn't want to. But that's when everything got jumbled. Chakira wriggled out from under me and with perhaps a degree of defiance, pulled out a black leather paddle from her bag. Actually it looked like a long hair brush but without the bristles. "You would have to use this on him?" I asked, taking it from her and testing it lightly against my own thigh. Ouch! "Oh no. Not at all. This was for me." Which led to a long reminiscence of the strict Catholic girl's school that Chakira attended at her mother's insistence. A minor rule infraction might solicit an impromptu swat. But for severe infractions there was a strict procedure that had to be followed. The offending school girl would be called to the front of the classroom and ordered to bend over the desk. Bum displayed for her all classmates to see. "Remember, the point was to inflict pain AND humiliate," she reminisced. Hem of the plaid uniform skirt lifted up and held with two hands at waist level. A second teacher, always female, usually a nun, would be called in to pull down the miscreants white cotton knickers just so, exposing the entire buttock but heaven forbid, nothing more. The punishing teacher was then free to administer the appropriate number of strokes with a wooden paddle kept handy for just such occasions. Three for obstinance. Six for note passing. An even dozen for swearing or taking the Lord's name in vain. And heaven save the girl whose hands fell to protect her tender white backside in mid-beating. The count would return back to zero. Same for squirming about. Around the tenth grade, Chakira' class suffered from a rash of discipline problems unprecedented in the school's history. Hardly a day went by without at least one or two girls getting punished. Yes, that handsome young teacher from Australia, the first faculty member ever from the laity, and a man no less, really had his hands full that year. "I was probably the worst in my class. Or at least I tried to be" she said, smiling. Which is about all the segue I can offer for me being seated in the middle of that Louis XVI couch with a small square cushion on my lap. A Scalamandre damask in pale yellow if I wasn't mistaken. A now naked Chakira lying face down, over my knees. Was I really going to do this? I caressed her round soft cheeks. Twelve hours on a plane and not one single pimple. Perfect. The kind of ass that men and women both made detours to follow for an extra block or two. And she knew it. I took hold of the paddle's round handle, the leather, warm and dry in my hand. I traced a slow path up her leg. Maybe I could just tease her. She parted her legs slightly and pushed her bottom up at me. "Please." Her lips, shaved smooth, were a meaty purplish brown. So different than mine. Pale, pink and fragile. Those full lips hiding what was going on deeper inside. I used the thin edge of the paddle to probe between them. And when I withdrew it, there was a near perfect semicircle of light-catching moisture. Lying in contrast to the impassive matte black leather. "Please." Smack. A single tentative stroke. Nothing. I stared at the smooth skin. No reaction at all. Again. A little harder. Still silence. "Are you sure," I ask but get no response. Raising the paddle higher, above shoulder level, I summon strength and bring it down with a solid smack. And instantly there is a crimson mark. And again and again. And once again, but this time I pull short just before the leather cracks. I take small delight in Chakira's breath-catching apprehension. And just as she relaxes, three quick smacks in rapid succession bring an audible response. And something else. A musky odor from between her legs. Those somnambulant labia, so smooth and dry just a moment ago, are now wet and slippery. Continuing to rain blows on her backside, I explore with my free hand. She lifts her belly a little to accommodate me between her legs. Rubbing her tiny clitoris with small delicate circles I'm confused as to what she likes more. But the combined effect is unmistakable. Her cries of pain mix with pleasure and become something else all together. Her hips are thrusting forward in a rhythm that has nothing and everything to do with the paddle and my serpentine fingers. So aware am I of Chakira, that I'm startled when I glance up and see myself in the full length mirror. Who am I as ask, aware of the long sticky cock between my legs. Male or female. Dark or light. Good or evil. All of the above. One more blow and a howling cry but still she doesn't come. Just as I think I need to hit her harder, Chakira rolls off me and drops to the floor on her hands and knees. She looks back at me with a sweaty brow and tear smeared eyes. Saying everything without a single word. I join her on the floor but without real nerve endings, I'm clumsy. I push once but she squirms away. "Not there." She reaches between her legs and guides the thick head inside. There's no resistance. That much I can feel. The wet, mucking sounds and musky scent feed my other senses. Slowly, I slide the long shaft in. And then out. And then I'm still. Letting her find her own rhythm, as she rocks forward and back without me. Easy. But just when I think I'm going to be nothing more than a firm plinth for her pleasure, her fingers reach back and find me. I take hold of her hips and thrust. As I do, she presses three fingers, at least I think it's three, in my cunt. As I withdraw, so does she. And again. And again until we both collapse in a tangled sweaty heap. Without raw nerve endings or an impending orgasm to deal with, the dildo performs flawlessly for hours. Our lips and tongues, too. And much later, when the first light of the false dawn plays across Parisian rooftops, we come full circle. It's me kneeling front of her, helping to cinch the silver straps and adjustable the buckles. I open the balcony doors and rest my elbows on the cold iron railing. Not caring a bit that I'm naked for the world to see. The chilly, early morning air does nothing to soothe the burning heat I feel in my insides. Not even when I close my eyes and gasp desperately to take in deep, life giving gulps of air. When I leave an hour later to get to my first interview I'm a picture of the composed professional I pride myself in being. Attractive in a quiet way. Intelligent. Maybe a little boring. Save for that odd dreamy smile at no one or nothing in particular. . . Room 621 Of course Chakira was gone by the time I got back to my suite. Not even a note. Not that I'd really expected one. Well, maybe a little. But any disappointment was quickly made up for by the wonderful service the hotel's staff provided for the rest of my stay. Helped along by an exquisite four course meal from the hotel's three star restaurant served up in my room by two tuxedoed waiters. It wasn't until I checked out that I realized the entire bill had been taken care of by some else. Erik, perhaps. I would never know. And of course, I'd never heard from Chakira again. Even though, I'd left my business card for her. ~~~~~~~~~~~~ Many months later, after I'd met the man whom I would eventually marry. In no small part for his magical ability to always get special treatment everywhere. A prized table at a booked up hot-spot. Center court seats for the Wimbledon finals. First class upgrades without even asking. House seats on the aisle at a sold-out West End run. When our relationship got to the point where I was able to share my affection for X-rated videos and not feel embarrassed about it, I asked him to rent something for a Friday night. But instead of coming home with the latest silicone-valley fuckfest, he announced he had gotten hold of "something special." A friend of a friend. "Not for sale through normal channels." We settled in on the couch, my head resting on his chest. The video starts. He tells me that there are four or five different scenes on the tape. Obviously a hotel suite somewhere, shot with an artfully hidden camera. Probably behind a full length mirror judging from the well-dressed man adjusting his tie. Talking over his shoulder to a slender Asian woman sitting on a pretty Louis XVI couch. The yellow, damask pillow looking strangely familiar. © 2004 Steffen Andrews. All Rights Reserved.