8 comments/ 67713 views/ 7 favorites Just Dessert By: juanwildone “See sweetie, it’s a scientific study from a major University, and I quote, ‘Components of semen that enter your bloodstream may enhance feelings of attachment…’ Right there in Cosmo* – what more could you want for proof?” I smiled sincerely. “I’m guessing that absorption through the digestive system is the most effective.” Let’s get one thing clear from the start I love oral sex. I love everything about oral sex; I’m talking giving and receiving. Is there a more potent aphrodisiac then the scent of an aroused woman? Or the sweet tang of her juices on your tongue and in your mouth. I love watching the slow engorgement of a woman’s cunt outer lips becoming thick and swollen. The look of her skin blushing with desire, the feel of her sex so warm and wet - and the sounds. Oh yeah, the sounds; the slurp of mouth and genital contact, the smack of lips and tongues, and the moans and groans of enjoyment. I love oral sex. For myself I count the first blowjob I received as my official entry into having a real sex life (and yes I went down on the girl that same day). Soft lips and hard cocks are just made for each other. And my God, the things a tongue can do! And cumming – ladies if you want your man to feel special…SWALLOW IT! If you need something to wash it down with fine – but swallow it. Do you really want to send the message to your man that you’re rejecting the most essential component of his masculinity? Well – do you? I believe that the giving of oral pleasure to another person is one of the more selfless acts a lover can do. The world would be a better place, a safer place if there was a lot more oral sex being shared. God Bless you Cosmo for sharing this important news item. “Let me see that.” Sharon looked at the magazine. She snorted in apparent disagreement, or maybe disgust. “Sorry dear, but you’ve misunderstood the thrust of the study. In fact one could make the argument that a woman shouldn’t have any contact with semen if she wants to be happy.” I tried to rally household opinion to my cause, “But honey, they’re talking about improving couples relationship. A little mutual oral enjoyment…” “This doesn’t say anything about oral sex; 1] they specifically mention condoms, and 2] they talk about sperm as promoting a kind of chemical dependence - sorry.” My wife does not share my views on oral sex. Sharon knows how much I love oral sex, and she certainly enjoys receiving it – lots of it. She just can’t give it. She does occasionally lick my shaft and if she’s really turned-on she’ll lick the head a little, just to get it wet. But taking my cock into her mouth – never. God do I miss that! My wife’s resistance to oral sex is understandable. She had a really bad experience in college at a frat party. She was drugged and placed on a table on her back with her head hanging over the end. A bunch of assholes took advantage of her mouth and throat. Her poor throat was so bruised that she was on a juice diet for nearly a month. I was defeated and she knew it. “Oh Matt, you know I love you more then anything. I just can’t do that, I just can’t – I’m sorry.” “You have nothing to be sorry about. It’s just…” I could see the deepening disappointment in her eyes and it made me feel like a total asshole. I do love her – that’s what makes this situation so difficult. I knew she was the one from the moment I saw her. If I hadn’t felt so strongly about her right off the bat I wouldn’t have even accepted the lack of blowjobs while we were dating to say nothing of the rest of my life. I guess I always thought she would eventually come around - and trust me. But after two years of dating and three of marriage – that didn’t seem to be in the cards. “…It’s nothing. It’s not that big a deal.” Sharon stood slowly and turned away from me. “Well it sure feels like a big deal when you’ve got it stuffed up my ass.” Said ass was tantalizingly wiggled back and forth in front of my face. I suppose that I should mention that Sharon has rarely denied me anything else, sexually speaking, either in variety or regularity. She gave me her virgin ass upon our engagement and is, in fact, an enthusiastic participant in all other things sexual…except blowjobs. With her butt wiggling she hitched up her skirt until her panties showed. She stuck her hand back between her legs and gave me the ‘old come here’ with her finger. She may not give me blowjobs but she could certainly get good and nasty when she had a mind to. Afterwards we were lying side-by-side – sweaty and sated. “Wow.” Sharon rolled off the bed and waddled to the bathroom. Her butt cheeks and inner thighs were slick with cum. I was tempted to join her in the washing off but wasn’t sure that I had another cartridge in the chamber. So I just laid back and stared up at the ceiling. We had just had great sex – incredible sex. I had cum twice, once in her cunt, once in her ass. Sharon had cum a bunch, and “yes” I went down on her. She did her drooling tongue lick thing when I moved to fuck her from behind, but that was it for oral. How can you be so satisfied and yet so frustrated all at the same time? A knock at the front door stirred me from my ruminations. I threw on some shorts and went to answer it. “Hi Matt, is Sharon…” It was our neighbor Gina. As she spoke I found myself starring at her lips – she has the most sensual lips and is always wearing a shade of lipstick that pulls your eyes (well my eyes certainly) right to them. I think it’s because my second girlfriend had those same full lips and wore a similar shade of lipstick. I have an indelible image etched into my brain of those lips sliding back and forth along my cock from tip to root. She was the first girl to deep-throat me. She was also the first to swallow and the first to start just about every date we ever had with a blowjob. Every time I see Gina, I see her lips and I remember. “…home? I wanted to borrow…” I watched as Gina’s nostrils flared noticeably and then her eyebrows arched upwards about a 1/16th of an inch. Oh shit, I hadn’t cleaned my face! “…borrow (sniff). Oh god I’d like to borrow about 30 minutes of what she just got.” I blushed and discovered that I did have another round in the chamber after all. Like most (if not all) married men I have secrets lusts for certain members within my wife’s circle of friends. And I definitely had a serious lust for Gina, which was why I was always very careful to avoid flirting and any other sexual banter with her. Her comment had caused a major breach in my defenses – I popped a major woody. She noticed. The woman looked right down at the tent in my shorts and uttered a barely audible, “mmmmmm.” She looked up and smiled an absolutely dazzling smile that promised delights unimagined, joys beyond description, and…God damn it I was shaking. “I brought you your paper.” Gina held the morning paper in her hands. “You can thank me later – stud.” She slapped it into my chest so that I had to grab it with both hands Then she grabbed me! She grabbed my cock and purred, or growled. She released me and walked past me toward the kitchen. I held the paper protectively in front of me as I closed the door. I turned to see that Gina was already sitting at the breakfast bar and Sharon was pouring her a cup of coffee. When did Sharon finish her shower, make the coffee and just how long was I staring at Gina? I decided that the best answer was a shower. Nothing like some sustained cool water to defuse a volatile situation. I was wrong – about defusing the situation. Before I could get safely out of the house Sharon called me into the kitchen to answer a question about garbage disposals. Actually the question was Gina’s, hers seemed to be broken and I was being recruited to check it out. In reality I was being drafted to check it, fix it or replace it. I’d done a number of handyman tasks for Gina before so this was nothing new – the way Gina was looking at me was. There was no backing out and I was soon sent off with tools in hand. I figured out the problem with Gina’s disposal and I knew I could easily fix it. Unfortunately the problem with Gina was getting worse – exponentially worse. During the entire time I was under her sink she kept up a relentless commentary of her current sex life – or rather the lack of a sex life as she put it. She talked about her ex-husband, guys hitting on her at work, and on and on. Somehow I managed not to get hard during the repairs and I honestly thought that I would soon be safely away. “You know what I miss most about not having a steady guy in my life?” I said nothing in reply. “I miss cock sucking.” Oh-oh. “With all of the STD problems out there I’m really hesitant to let some guy come in my mouth. I mean it isn’t a real blowjob unless you come right? I wish I could find a nice safe guy and just…suck…his…cock.” Her words flooded into my consciousness like a pool full of gasoline. We were in a very dangerous situation here, potentially very flammable. I knew that. I knew that. I knew that. Then Gina threw in the burning match. “Is it really true that Sharon never sucks you off?” Oh fuck. “God, I’d be swallowing your cock every fucking day. Do you realize that she is always bragging on what a great cunt licker you are? As much as I love cock sucking I miss getting my pussy licked even more.” I was doomed. I was utterly, completely, undeniably doomed. My life flashed before my mind. The unnerving image of my wife pointing at my limp and empty cock with a ring of lipstick around the base blazed before me. I knew I should leave. I wanted to leave – but I didn’t. I was frozen in place. OK, I wasn’t so much frozen in place as sprouting a very serious icicle in my shorts – I was brittle hard. Gina squatted next to me. I shivered in the closeness of her physical presence. Oh God I could smell her. My cock surged against my zipper seeking the wet warmth of her mouth. My balls churned and I felt that buzz behind them that signaled the availability of my orgasm. I suddenly realized how much I wanted to cum in Gina’s mouth. “Do you think I’m sexy Matt?” I mumbled something unintelligible. “What was that I couldn’t hear you?” I lifted my head to be heard and looked straight into Gina’s exposed cunt. She had changed out of her shorts into some kind of sundress. Resistance was futile and I felt my defenses crumble completely I felt my zipper being lowered and warm hand fished out my hard cock. I didn’t say “No.” I didn’t say, “Stop.” I didn’t say anything. I watched as Gina pursed her lips and brought them into contact with the tip of my cock. A clear pearl of precum was smeared slowly back and forth across her lips. I didn’t push her away. I didn’t try to leave. I didn’t do anything. She pressed ever so slightly downward and I watched entranced as my cock was accepted into her mouth. When her lips moved over the ridge of my glans she stopped and then pulled slowly back up until the barest contact was maintained. She pushed down again. Up and down she went…slowly, so slowly. It was painfully tortuous how slowly she went up and down on me. Each time down a little further until my cock was stuffed down her throat and her lips pushed against my pubic bone. I don’t think that my cock was ever harder. I don’t know that I was ever more lost. I was powerless. I was her toy and I wanted to be. I don’t know how long she sucked my cock – 30 seconds, 30 minutes…I really don’t know. It was an official blowjob though. I felt my orgasm building and I did absolutely nothing to stop it – I needed it and asshole that I was, I wanted it. Gina kept that same methodical rhythm going as my cock swelled and spurted. As hoarse cry bellowed forth as I filled her mouth with my cum. She swallowed noisily and repeatedly until the over stimulation of her mouth on my cock caused me to plead for mercy. As calm as could be Gina zipped me back up and I finished the repair. As soon as I was done I packed my tools and made for the door. I didn’t bother to announce my leaving, I just wanted out of there. A growing feeling of guilt was my last line of resistance. I reached the door and opened it. Gina came up behind me. She hugged me and pressed her breasts into my back. I could feel her hard nipples and I knew she was naked. I didn’t dare turn around. “Are you sure you need to hurry home? I could use your help for…another hour or so.” I just stood there in her open door looking out. Slowly she released me from her embrace. “Thanks for the quick fix Matt.” I could hear Gina smack her lips. “I’ll arrange some kind of payment for your services with Sharon – is that alright with you?” I didn’t answer. I didn’t turn around. I walked quickly homeward. That night I fucked Sharon nearly senseless. Things pretty much returned to normal after that. Well actually, I went out of my way to avoid Gina for a couple of weeks but eventually things got back to the same old same old. Sharon and my sex life was hotter then ever and I was back to feeling that everything was ok until she announced that she had to go out of the country on a business trip. She was going to be in London for three weeks and we were both anxious about it. We’d never been apart for that long. We tried to joke about it, I told her I would probably use up all of her hand lotions and she joked about buying a vibrator and a box of batteries. I kept telling her that I could take care of myself. She kept saying that was what worried her. I think that what worried her most was what I would do for meals. I am the world’s lousiest cook, I can burn boiled water. I’m not a big fan of dining alone in restaurants either. Sharon said that she would try to work something out - well at least I wouldn’t die of starvation. A couple of days before she left she was having coffee with Gina when I was called to join them. I was informed that Gina was going to cook for me while Sharon was gone. Gina is an excellent cook and they both seemed very satisfied with the situation. I asked if there was anything that I could do to contribute. My wife rolled her eyes as if to say ‘don’t you even let him in my kitchen.’ She and Gina had a good long laugh at my expense. While they were laughing I noticed that Gina’s breasts were moving in a most unrestrained manner. Sharon had already left the table when Gina turned and caught me looking. “I know Matt can provide the dessert.” Gina smiled at me and I thought I was safely off the hook. “You know what I like the most? Something that’s sweet. Something kinda hot, hard and creamy...” I just about spewed a mouthful of coffee across the kitchen. I nearly fainted from rapid blood loss as my cock sprang to full attention; it was painfully trapped down my pant leg. Any movement on my part was impossible without a very obvious re-adjustment. I wasn’t sure that I could even stand in this condition. “…like French vanilla ice cream with melted peanut butter cups all over it. I just love the way that the hot sweet chocolate gets all hard and the ice cream gets all soft and creamy. I don’t think I could ever get enough of that. Every swallow is so yummy!” Sharon and Gina launched into a rhapsody about chocolate. I tried to think of anything to get blood back into my head. I was having limited success; my throbbing erection was down to a reasonable semi-erection. My success was short-lived. “Hey Sharon if I offer to clean your house can I use Matt…you know, to help with some plumbing problems – or something?” Sharon paused in the midst her kitchen clean up. She kept a very clean house and I could tell that she was concerned about what she would return to if I were left on my own. I braced for the obligatory denunciation of my sanitary habits that was likely to include but not be limited to dirty clothes, toilet seats, coffee cups left in the most amazing places and other various transgressions. “You know Gina I think I’m going to take you up on that - yeah, definitely.” Sharon was smiling broadly as if a great burden had been lifted from her. She turned to me. “Matt, is this okay with you? You get free meals and I get a clean house and in return you do whatever Gina wants.” It may have started out as a question but it as a statement of fact. I looked at Sharon and nodded. I looked at Gina and she smiled – and then she licked her lips. I was hard again; ferociously, throbbingly, and on the ragged edge of orgasm hard. I moaned inadvertently. Sharon misunderstood the source of my distress. “Oh don’t be such a big baby. I’m sure Gina won’t be too hard on you. Suck it up big guy.” Gina was on the verge of hysterics. “Oh don’t worry Sharon. I’m sure that Matt will be very cooperative – won’t you Matt?” I looked at Gina and I was dumbfounded. Her eyes glittered with undisguised lust. She opened her mouth slightly and stuck out her tongue. She curled the tip back giving me a very clear indication of just what chores she had in mind. “Matt?” Sharon was standing behind Gina with her hands on Gina’s shoulders. “Hey no problem – whatever Gina wants. I’m just the hired help.” I heard my voice speak those words. I was fucked. Gina jumped up, “Great, I’m gonna go home and make list of all that things I need Matt to do for me.” She was out the door in a flash. My wife bent down and kissed my cheek. “Oh don’t look so concerned. I’m sure you can handle anything she comes up with.” I was doomed – totally fucking doomed. Fool that I was I smiled. *Semen Withdrawal May Cause Depression Gordon Gallup, Ph.D., professor of psychology at the State University of New York at Albany, studied almost 1,000 women, comparing those who use condoms to those who don't. One finding was that women who didn't use condoms were more depressed than those who did if they were having a dry spell after a breakup. "Components of semen that enter your bloodstream may enhance feelings of attachment and create a chemical dependency," says Gallup. Researchers continue to test this theory…Cosmopolitan April 2003 Just Dessert It was to be an exciting night. We planned a little dessert party when we had our son stay at his grandmother's for the night. What we didn't know was just how exciting it would really be. Our invites told everyone to dress as sexy as they could. Since most of our friends had children it was a reason to dress up a little. When the guests arrived there was plenty of cleavage and booty showing for both male and female eyes to take in. My wife Christine had her 36 DD's on display with a strapless bandanna top, mini skirt and high heels, giving her 5' 2" frame a little more height. I was dressed in a pair if tight jeans and short sleeve gauze style shirt opened down the front. We prepared several dessert selections for all to enjoy and had an excellent choice of liquors and wines on display. This was also a night for us to break in our new pool and lanai area. Candles were floating in the pool and we encouraged our guests to bring their swim suits/or not, to swim and have a good time. As I made my way around saying "Hi," to our guests I saw the guys were checking out Christine's ample curves. For this evenings event we invited our usual crowd of friends along with some new ones including our veterinarian/friend Jeff. Also here was my wife's former boyfriend, Fred, who was in town on business. As the night progressed, people started to really enjoy themselves. Some of the ladies would brush up against me as I walked by or make sure I caught a glimpse of their tits. Every so often I noticed Christine talking to people and the guys would either be looking at her magnificent chest or rubbing up against her beautiful ass. Some of our friends made it into the pool after changing into some really hot swimsuit that left little or nothing to the imagination. It was turning into a great night for all to just blow off some steam and engage in some adult conversation and fun. Christine was enjoying herself as well with all of the attention she was getting, especially from her ex, Fred. She has always had, "a thing", for Fred, often fantasizing about fucking him again. Even though their relationship did not go well, they were able to remain friends and I didn't mind since we are both comfortable in our relationship after 10 years of being together. Fred and Christine were talking with Jeff in one of the low-lit areas of the lanai. We kept the lighting low with some good party/fuck me music on. As I walked by to tend to our other guests I noticed Fred as well as Jeff each had a hand on her ass, and she in turn had a huge smile on her face. I smiled at her as I walked by and continued to chat with our friends making sure everyone was enjoying the festivities. On my way around the lanai I lost track of Christine and her two admirers since I was distracted from the constant laughing and groping going on either in or around the pool. At one point I had to retrieve something from inside the house and heard some muffled sounds coming from our bedroom. I made my way down the hall and noticed the door wide open, and inside was Christine on her knees alternating between sucking both Jeff's and Fred's cocks. They noticed me there and said, "We know she wants it, and we're going to use her as our little fuck toy for a while." After the moment of being stunned and relatively excited at the some time faded I asked Christine, "Honey, you OK with this?" Knowing that this was one of her ultimate fantasies not only with Fred, but with Jeff as well. She looked me in the eye and said, "Absolutely!!!" Knowing how much she was enjoying herself and with her consenting, I said, "Have fun guys!" As I withdrew from the room closing the door I heard Fred say, "Now, take off those clothes so I can see those great tits and ass again, but leave the heels on!" I went back to the party with a raging hard on, knowing my hot wife was being treated like the horny, sexy slut she likes to be treated like. Back outside there was some kissing and touching going on with the other couples, but nothing like what was happening inside the house. After about two hours, I think since I wasn't looking at the time, Christine emerged from the house looking flushed in her bikini and jumped into the pool. Followed shortly behind her were Jeff and Fred with a very satisfied look and their faces. Christine got out of the pool and found me seated on one of our bar stools talking with another couple. I noticed the flushed look on her face asked if she was having a good time? She kissed me and said with a big smile, "Yes honey, I'm glad we decided to throw this party." Not long after the party broke up, with only a few people camping out due to too much imbibing. Both Jeff and Fred gave Christine long kisses goodbye while patting her ass, and shook my hand saying what a fantastic wife I had. Later, when we were in bed for the night I asked her, " SO... what happened after I left???" She immediately got that big smile on her face and said, "They used me like I always fantasized they would. They told me to strip and made me take their clothes off. After that they proceeded to tell me how I was their own personal whore and to do whatever they said. My pussy was soaked, and they knew I was really excited. They kept grabbing my breasts and spanking my ass. I was told to get on the bed on all fours. At this point Jeff stuck what seemed like and 8-inch cock in my mouth and told me to suck his dick. Fred got behind me and felt my pussy, noticing how wet I was. He then said it was just like he remembered and rammed his cock into me. It felt soooo gooood having his cock in me and with Jeff fucking my mouth I started to cum. I did whatever they told me. They both came all over tits, and in between fucking me they took turns licking my pussy. It felt fantastic, and I had one of my intense orgasms where I squirted. After that Fred said he never knew I was such a little fuck slut, since I never did that with him. I was holding her while playing with her pussy and she was soaked again. "You really enjoyed yourself didn't you?" "Honey...I loved every fucking minute of it," was her response between moans, "I love you." "I love you too sweetheart." "Honey..." "Yes?" "When is our next party?" she asked and proceeded to cum before mounting me and fucking me until I exploded. Just Dessert I tug helplessly at my hands fastened securely to the bedposts above my head, a makeshift blindfold draped over my eyes, a thousand different scenarios running through my mind. Some very good. Some very bad. "Idiot!" I chastise myself under my breath. How well do I know this guy? Not that well really. How could you let him tie you up! Because it sounded exciting at the time and you were way too turned on to say no? Didn't your mother ever tell you, never even let a man you don't know tie you up! But I did know him a little bit and what I did know I liked, reasoning with myself. (Never a good sign) We had talked over dinner, (Greek food, one of my favorites, turned out one of his too). We seemed to have a lot in common. Besides the food. Music, hobbies, movies, even books, (in my eyes there is nothing sexier than a man that reads). He told me about his family. I told him about mine. We had shared a lot in a short time. Dreams. Ambitions. Future plans. It all seemed to just click between us. And of course it helped a lot that he was sexy as hell. "Dammit," I tugged again at my hands getting a little more frustrated and a lot more panicked, 'Where did you go?' I said into the darkness, sounding a little whiney, even to my ears. It had all started with an innocent invitation for dessert in his apartment. Just dessert! Then there was a little heavy petting on the couch. You know the kind that we all did in high school. Over the shirt, then under the bra. His shirt on the floor, then mine. Hands down the front of the pants, feeling his hard body pressed against mine. (Hard in ALL the right places I might add!) My nipples rubbing against his chest. My panties damp. Panting like teenagers in heat as he carries me to his bedroom and plops me down on the soft bed. Then he asks, "Do you mind if we do something, well...a little different?" "Well...okay," I reply quickly, horny as hell and way past the point of no return. My breathing getting heavier as I think of all the things I would like for him to do that were, well...not really that different. "DAMMIT," I curse again at my stupidity as I yank harder on my hands. Nope, I'm not going anywhere. I feel my eyes growing moist under the blindfold. Blind panic setting in. What if he beats me? What if he cuts me? Jesus! What if he kills me? After all Ted Bundy was smart, witty and sexy too! I hear the house settling all around me. I know he's in the room, I can kind of sense it. I guess its true what they say about your other senses heightening when one is disabled. "Are you okay?" I jump a little as I hear his voice just to my left, I get goose bumps as I feel his fingertip slowly trail down my arm, "Don't worry baby, I'm not going to hurt you." "I'm fine thanks," my voice sounding tight and slightly stressed, (hell yes stressed!) I try to control the little bit of fear in my tone as I ask him "What are you going to do to me?" "Whatever I want babe...You're here for my pleasure," he leaves that comment floating in the air for a moment, my panic flares anew. Then he adds, "But I promise, you'll like it...now shush, and just feel ok?" The soft timber of his voice and the gentle way he was speaking put me a little at ease. Then he leans in and kisses me softly. I think to myself; okay...I can do this...just feel. I wasn't fully prepared for his next move. Something wet. Cold and wet brushing lightly against my collar bone. I suck in my breath, my body stiff as it moves slowly up my neck and then brushes against my lips. "Bite," he says as he slides the thing against my teeth, I open cautiously and bite down. A rush of sweet juice fills my mouth. It's only a strawberry! I moan low in my throat, it tastes delicious. I relax a little more as he leans over and licks over my mouth, cleaning the excess juice from my lips. Then slowly he drags the berry down, followed closely by his tongue. Over my chin. Down my neck and finally rubbing it against my already hard nipple. I arch off the bed when he closes his lips around my tight peak. His mouth hot as he sucks hard, flicking it with his tongue. My hands pull at the ties involuntarily. He moves again and repeats his actions, this time ending up at the other nipple. I feel his suckling all the way to my pussy, the wetness already seeping from me. Another strawberry, another bite. He trails it down again. Between my breasts, over my stomach. Its pushed into my belly button, dragged over the slight patch of my pubic hair and lower as he rubs it slowly against my clit. I feel its sweet juices dripping slowly down and mixing with mine. Next, a slice of ripe peach. A taste for me, then more being laid in a circle around my areola. His warm tongue flicking out to lift each one, brushing lightly (too lightly!) against my nipple as he eats. God what a tease! I moan as his hand toys with my now sticky and tingling breasts. His mouth nipping and licking at them. His hand moves lower brushing a berry against me, teasing my hole. Then back to my mouth. He starts to drag them up and down my slit, coating them with my nectar then feeding them to me and eating them himself. He rubs one over my asshole and my legs open as wide as I can get them. He cleans the juices from me with his mouth. Licking at the inside of my thighs, I moan and squirm a bit as he licks over my asshole, then lightly over the lips of my sex. He avoids the one place I want his tongue the most. My hips lift trying to rub my throbbing clit against his mouth as my pussy spasms. "Not yet little one," he chuckles at my eagerness, "I'm not quite full yet" I groan as something soft is placed against my lips, I bit down very carefully. It's only a banana. He follows that with a big juicy grape. Green I think as the flavor explodes in my mouth. He shifts on the bed; I feel a smooth, round grape being slid up and down the lips of my pussy, and then pushed inside me. I moan low in my throat, the cool fruit such a contrast to my hot, wet sex. One after the other, he pushes about six of them into me, then stops. I feel his tongue probing at my pussy, pushing inside me, sucking the grapes out one by one. It feels so good, but still not enough! I'm wiggling under him, shifting my legs. My hips rising and falling as my breathing gets heavier and heavier. He's taking his time, fishing each grape out with care. His tongue working deeper and deeper into my pussy until they are all gone. Next the banana, being slid up the inside of my thigh, over those little creases on each side then rubbing over the lips of my pussy. My hips work up and down with the motion. Slowly he pushes it in. Then pulls it out. Teasing around my sex. Rubbing it over my clit. God I'm so close! Just a little harder, a little faster. He slides it back inside and my pussy clenches hard around it, squashing it, sucking at it, trying to take it in farther. My hips tilt as I feel his breath on my clit, then a light flick of his tongue. "Omigod!" I pant, my body bowing as he licks again. His mouth moves lower, his tongue slipping in beside the banana, sucking, drawing it out of me. He stops to chew, then continues his meal. Slowly, methodically, until I'm empty. He brings a piece to my mouth, my juices coating it as he rubs it against my lips. Sliding it inside my mouth. I chew slowly; savoring my own flavor mixed with that of the banana. "Tastes good doesn't it baby?" I hear him savoring the last piece, "You make everything so sweet." His warm breath fans over my thigh. He blows lightly against my pussy. "Please... please I need to come!" I am begging for relief as my arms jerk and pull against the ties. My body writhing on the bed. Without warning, his head drops down. His hands spread me open as his tongue moves over my slit. It's almost like an assault. Flicking, sucking and pushing against my clit then running up and down the length of my sex, probing both my holes. His fingers tugging and twisting my nipples. Pulling and pinching them. My whole body tenses as I cry out and come hard, lifting my hips up against his mouth, my thighs squeezing around his head, grinding my pussy against his lips and tongue as he laps up my wetness. Slowly my body starts to relax as his licks get softer, but my breathing is still heavy. I need more; I need to feel him inside me. He moves up, his tongue running over the crease in my lips, then slipping between them as he kisses me hard, devouring my mouth, letting me taste my own release on his tongue. Moving between my legs he rubs the length of his cock against my still pulsating sex, coating himself in my wetness and the remnants of the fruit that was used to tease me. His breathing hard in my ear as he slides the head of his cock up and down my slit, rubbing against my throbbing clit. My hips straining against him trying to take him inside. "C'mon baby, fuck me," My voice a breathy whisper, I want his cock so bad! "Please... I need you inside me!" He groans in agreement, ending the sweet torture and shifting above me. He slowly pushes inside. His cock twitches as he buries himself, giving me every inch. My pussy stretches and grips him tight; spasming around his cock as he fills me up, fitting so perfectly inside me. "God... you're so wet," he almost groans it into my ear as he starts to move. He starts, slow at first; pushing all the way into me and pulling almost all the way out. My hips lift against his, my legs wrap around his hips, my ankles locking in the small of his back trying to hold him to me. Then he starts to move faster. Deeper. Harder, until we are slamming against each other. My body moving with his, I lift my hips to meet his strokes. He levers himself up onto his knees and grips my hips hard, pounding into me. The sounds of his skin slapping against mine fill the room. His heavy balls hit my ass, teasing my sensitive hole. He moves one hand and starts to rub my clit in rhythm with his strokes. It's too much for me. My back arches as I explode, crying out loudly as my hands grip the ties tight. My pussy clamps down hard around his cock, like a velvet vice. I buck up against him over and over. He kisses me, groaning into my mouth as he pumps. I feel his body stiffen, his moans mix with mine as he plunges deep and empties himself into me. His cock pulsing deep inside as he finds his release with my pussy still working him. Small spasms milking him through his orgasm. Collapsing against me, he reaches up and frees my hands. I remove the blindfold, and look up at him. Fruit juice stains his mouth and my body. I'm very sticky and deliciously achy in all the right places. Wrapping my arms around him and pulling him close, I kiss him slow and sweet. "Thank you," I smile dreamily at him, "That was absolutely amazing." Rolling him over onto his back. Our breathing returns to normal as I lay against his chest. His fingertips casually stroke up and down my spine. It's then that I notice on the nightstand sits the remainder of the fruit. There also see a tub of cool whip and a bottle of chocolate syrup sitting beside it. As of yet...untouched. I lean up and take his hand in mine, leading it to the post. I start to wrap a tie slowly around his wrist. Grinning down at him devilishly, I wiggle my eyebrows up and down. "Now that you're full baby, it's time for MY dessert!" Just Dessert He pours the last dash of an 88 Haute Brion into her glass, and I watch her throat contract smoothly as she swallows it. The soft movement of muscle under skin builds the anticipation of having that length of creaminess under my mouth. I gaze at you, the corners of my mouth upturned, my eyes dreamy, the elixirs of wine and food and desire sliding through my body like warm silk. He presses my knuckles to his lips. You drape your arm around her shoulders and she snuggles in for a moment. Our dinner plates stretch before us on the white table cloth. Dessert awaits. He pushes back from the table and extends his hand for hers, helps her stand, leads her to the living room. We follow. You tangle your fingers in my hair, grip it at the roots, tilt my head back, kiss me. The tip of your tongue slides across my lips. I turn in your arms and the kiss grows. My desire throbs in the tender flesh between my legs. We break apart, slightly breathless, to find her kneeling, bent forward. He is winding red silk rope around her wrists, securing them to her ankles. Her skirt rides up, revealing the tops of her black stockings. He pushes her head to the floor and her ass rises up, exposing her bare pussy, then he comes to me, kisses me deeply. "Suck him," he says. I drop to my knees and look up into your eyes as I unzip your fly to reveal your rock hard cock. Just as I slide you into my warm, wet mouth, I hear her moan, and I know his mouth is on her, his tongue sliding her open, circling that spot of pleasure, teasing, pressing, flicking, diving in to devour her sweetness. You fill my throat with hard flesh, and I look up at you as I slide the tip against the back of my throat, across the soft washboard of my palate, until I'm sucking only on the tip, my tongue circling and lapping it inside my closed mouth. I plunge you back inside, swallowing you up, sucking and lapping at you with each stroke, then circle your cock with my fingers, twist and push down, listen to your moan mingle with her moans, and notice that her breathing has changed, and that he is inside her, his long, thick cock pressing against her other sweet spot. His right hand is pressing into the center of her ass, his left hand is pulling her hair. "Do not move," he demands. I hear the sharp intake of breath, the slow slapping of skin. I know how his straight cock can reach into the depths of a woman. He is being gentle. I stop to watch him, my juices running down my thighs. Suddenly I need to be filled ... right now. I stand and you bend me over the couch. The first stroke makes me cry out. Your sheathed cock pulses as you press yourself into my tight box, and I feel it inside me, one, two, three. I know I am in trouble. "No," you say, and pull out of me abruptly. You leave the room, and return a few seconds later, naked, holding a clear bottle and a strap-on. "I think it's about us tonight," you say. You buckle the strap-on around my waist and push me back to my knees. As if choreographed, he lays on the floor and pulls her onto him. She is still bent forward, tied wrist to ankle. He braces her shoulders, begins to kiss her slowly, his tongue dancing, exploring. I understand what I am to do. I kiss the warm exposed skin at her low back, run my hands over her hips, her flat stomach, the curve of her ass. She presses back into my hands as I smooth over her, letting my fingers slip between her legs to tease, to flirt with her most private openings. Her need joins with mine, making the room close in around me. All I can see are the bodies moving before me. All I can feel is breath, and the low vibration of energy seeking release. I circle his cock as she slides up off of him, then traps my fingers between their bodies for a moment. I feel their heat, and blood rushes down, flushing my pussy, opening it. I slide down to lick and play with her tight rosebud, and it begins to relax. I insert a lubricated finger and hear her moan against his mouth. I can feel his cock inside her and I look up at you. Your returned glance is a warning. I am not to come. Not yet at least. I insert a second finger, and a minute later a third, twisting my hand gently, opening her. Then, I trade my fingers for the lubricated dildo, and we are both fucking her. You stand in front of me, your erection instructing me. I pull you back into my mouth and swallow you down my throat. I match their rhythm, pushing and withdrawing the dildo, sucking and releasing your cock, until her tight body begins to spasm. I tilt my head up and look you in the eyes, vigorously pleasuring you with only my mouth. A loud, low rumble of pleasure erupts from her throat, and your whole body tenses. I know his movements, his sounds, and I am certain he is cresting with her, her pussy clamping down in contraction after contraction. I suck you faster, closing my eyes, feeling the pleasure of your flesh inside my flesh, of your building pleasure. I grab you and stroke your wet shaft with the same rhythm, letting my palm smooth over the round tip just before pulling you back in. Gooseflesh creeps up my skin, from my tailbone to my nape, and I know I will not be able to stop the orgasm from breaking through my body. Sometimes, pleasuring others is more intense than being pleasured myself. I suck you and open my eyes, catching yours in an intense exchange, and you explode in my mouth, down my throat. I cannot help but swallow. A gush of warm liquid splashes down my legs. I collapse, shaking, against her back, my mouth finding her neck, kissing her gently. Her breath comes hard. He is panting beneath her. Before I withdraw, I turn her head and kiss her deeply. She tastes you in my mouth and wants more. Just Dessert She sat on the hard kitchen chair watching me cook. That she sat there was largely down to the fact that she was tied to the chair; her hands behind her back and in turn to the back of the chair and her ankles to the two front chair-legs. It had taken her a while to comprehend how I, as the Master, was going to cook. Her instincts and previous training (or was it abuse?) led her to the belief that the submissive did all the menial work and the Master was waited on hand and foot. On this visit and on this day I had announced I was going to cook. I had to explain that it was OK, that it did not change our relationship. I was doing cooking because I wanted to do so and because I chose to do so. For that reason the power exchange that was critical to the happiness we had found together was still in place. Her unease had continued when I talked about possible menus. What she thought was me giving her choice was really me gaining a better understanding of likes and dislikes and indeed of any allergies. In the end I decided that we would dine on pasta with a salmon and cream sauce followed by strawberries and ice cream. This was both a nice summer selection and not hard to cook. I gave her 5 minutes to dress – oh, did I forget that she was naked during this exchange? – and off we went to her nearest supermarket. Now you can call me mean, but I continued to enjoy her discomfort as I left her to push the trolley while I selected our ingredients. This was something she was unused to, partly because she had lived alone so long and partly because it still offended her imprinted vision of her role as my collared submissive. Through checkout and a subsequent coffee I did little to alleviate her furrowed brow, but before we returned to the car I did reassure her that all was well; that I was doing this because I chose to and that I was not challenging her submission. The afternoon passed slowly reading a paper and drinking a glass or two of Pimms. She sat or lay naked at my feet enjoying the closeness and the sun. The white marks from years of swim suits were almost gone now and her body was a delight to behold. We didn't talk much as we had no need to. We had found how to be quietly comfortable in each others company between play. At around 5 I sent her in doors with instructions to collect her "ropes". These were a number of rope lengths ranging from around 2ft to 4ft that I used for restraint. When she returned with them draped over her bare arm I signalled that she should follow me into the kitchen. Once there I pulled the old wooden chair from under the table and set it in the corner. "Sit", I instructed and the proceeded to tie her wrists and ankles to the chair. So now we have arrived at the point this story started. She now endured the agony of someone else working in her kitchen, moving the utensils, clattering her plates, looking in her cupboards. This was not enough and an evil streak in me added another element – I blindfolded her so that her senses of hearing and smell were raised. This fired her imagination and magnified her fears. I do not propose this to be a cookery book so you may look in any one of a number of books to learn how to make the creamy salmon sauce and how to cook perfect pasta. Suffice it to say that it took me about half an hour to prepare the first course and to husk the strawberries. During that time I tormented her still further by wafting smells her way, occasionally making excess noise with her pans and occasionally offering her my fingers to smell and taste. Just before I was finished, I released her blindfold and ropes and sent her to lay the table. The table was a 6ft by 4ft oak table on which she placed cork place mats and cutlery. She also placed a glass of water at each setting. Watching through the hinge crack I called through to her to sit down. I could see the uncertainty cross her face as she sat before her Master and then she waited to be served. It obviously felt wrong, but she complied. After all she this had been a strange day. I made her wait a couple more minutes than I needed to before bring two steaming plates to the table and sitting down opposite. She waited for me to start, but thereafter, apart from her being naked, we ate as any couple would. I am not sure what we talked about, but it was normal vanilla stuff. Soon both plates were clean and she had a smile on her face. I asked her if she had enjoyed her food and she said she had. I asked her if she had enjoyed her day and the smile waivered a little. I asked her what she had learnt and she hesitated. The puzzled look on her face was indicative of how this had pushed her preconceived ideas. After a couple of attempts to answer I took pity and explained that it had merely been a demonstration that we, she and I, did not need to fit simple stereotypes; that the power exchange that underlies Ds can allow for many, many possibilities. I stressed that I had done what I had done because I chose to and because I enjoyed it; that I treasured her gift of submission more than ever. "Time for dessert!" At this time I sent her to make up two bowls of strawberries and ice cream. When she returned, I watched as she placed a bowl in front of me before sitting down with hers. I did not move and she just watched me, obviously uncertain. Instead of starting to eat I stood and cleared the table, moving the dessert bowls to the side. "On the table, on your back" I instructed. Quizzically she complied. I positioned her so her side was along one edge. I pulled a chair alongside her waist and positioned a bowl on her stomach. It sat in the small hollow centred on her navel. Of course it was cold so she did gasp when it was first placed there, but she held still and accepted her role as I sat down and started eating my strawberries with her as a human place mat. It was not easy as the bowl tended to jiggle as she giggled. In the end I decided that enough was enough. I lifted the bowl and to a howl from my lady I planted the strawberries and cream as you would plant a sandcastle right over her navel. Remember this way the ice cream was next to her skin now!!! As I lifted the inverted bowl off there was a small mound of red fruit on a small pond of creamy liquid. The hollow around her navel acted like a natural bowl and collected juice and melting ice cream. I proceeded to eat, offering the occasional strawberry to her lips. Once the fruit was gone I discarded the spoon and just used my tongue to clean her stomach and drain the reservoir in her navel. She moaned and groaned, giggled and squirmed. As you would imagine I had to hold her still so I found the "natural" grips. One hand found a breast, the other slipped up between her legs. It would be indelicate to go on, but let me say that the second bowl was eventually eaten and this scene had been a "just dessert" for both us after an interesting day. As we lay together later it provided a source of much discussion and merriment. Just Dessert Let's say we go to a nice steakhouse, one that's dimly lit with semi-private booths. I'm in a pair of thin slacks and a black silk professional cut shirt. You're in a long flowing silk gown that's low cut almost to your bellybutton in the front and the skirt drops almost to your ankles. Other than the gown, the only things you're wearing are a pearl necklace and ankle-strapped mid-heel pumps. You feel the wafting of the air against your shaved and naked little rosebud, and the sensual feel of the silk between your knees as you walk. I ask to have us seated in the rear of the restaurant, remote from any of the other patrons (of which there are few, this being a midweek-night). We sit together in the back of the leather-covered curved bench of the booth, it's high walls effectively concealing us from all eyes except those of the waitress as she takes our drink order. Our attraction for each other is plain and ardent and we sit close, enjoying the feel of each other's bodies through the thin cloth separating us. When the waitress is gone we steal a passionate kiss and I run my fingertips up into the hair at the back of your head and kiss very lightly over the side and back of your neck as you graze your fingernails back and forth slowly over the inside of my thigh. I allow my hand to slip beneath the silk of your gown to gently touch the pendulous curves of your breasts, and you slide your hand up further, making my cock begin to swell and stiffen beneath my slacks. We compose ourselves in time for our waitress to return with our drinks, and she takes our food order with a slight wry smile, appreciating that were obviously enjoying each other. As she leaves again, your fingers return to their teasing, and I bend you to back the back of your neck for a gentle bite followed by a trail of soft kisses until our mouths meet again. You begin to work my cock more thoroughly through the cloth of my slacks guiding your fingernails up and down it's growing length and rubbing your fingertips just behind the head on the underside. I discreetly look around to ensure that we're still unobserved and then gradually hike up the silk of your skirt to reveal your inner thighs, with I begin to tease with my fingertips as you move slightly away and eagerly spread your legs, placing one knee up on the bench with your foot off the edge under the tablecloth, to grant me easier access to your tingling kitty. I stroke the soft yummy flesh of the insides of your thighs getting closer and closer to your shaved nethers but not quite touching them yet. You firmly grasp the length of my prick and gently squeeze it, as the feel of my rigid shaft makes your folds slick and your mons puff out slightly. As I get closer and closer with pass, you arch that hot little pussy out to be teased up and you turn further toward me and quickly flash your tits one at a time to show me your swelling nipples, which I bend to lick briefly. As my tongue laps the second one and you draw a deep breath, I touch for the first time your slippery wetness and diddle your clit gently before teasing your opening and then raising my fingers to my lips to taste your dulcet musk. I then begin again to jill that yummy little slit beneath the silk of your skirt as you continue to gently jack my cock in my pants. After a few minutes of this, we're both wanting to throw our clothes off and fuck right there on the table, but we restrain ourselves and we arrange ourselves to prepare for the waitress to bring our food. The meal is delicious and I make a point of cutting your meat one little piece at a time and delicately feeding it to you as you playfully take each bite. You return the favor and I take the bites alternating between a hungry, teasing fierceness and gradual acceptance of each morsel. We together spontaneously turn our eyes and discover that the waitress is discreetly glancing appreciatively at us from a nearby station as we feed each other, and she smiles sweetly at us and returns somewhat sheepishly to her duties as we return her smile. After a while we have finished our meal and she returns to our table to ask if we'd like something delicious for dessert. Her words emerge in almost a shy, gushing whisper and we gather that she has been vicariously enjoying our playful teasing. We order a light sweet dessert along with tea, all of which she promptly brings, and as she leaves we start kissing and teasing again. Your hand has rarely left my thigh, and as we ate you have repeatedly returned to my cock to keep it firm and long, and your position has remained unchanged as I have occasionally been reaching down under the silk to tease you up during the meal as well. Now as I kiss and gently lick the side of your neck, I slide two fingers all the way up in your soaking passage and curl the tips against your deep hotspot. You collapse briefly against me as you arch down against my hand, and I firmly press deeper into you and feel up your tits with my other hand as you flick your fingertip under the head of my prick through the cloth. Teasing each other more and more, we look quickly around again to be assured of our privacy. You then gaze mischievously into my eyes as you deftly unzip my slacks and take out my cock under the tablecloth, and begin to enjoy its naked length thoroughly as you stroke it up and down with your fingers lightly wrapped around its girth, so that in effect you make a hole for it to slip lightly in and out of as you jack it slowly and gently off under the table. I continue to work your hot slippery well nice and easy, making it more and more needy with each passing moment. We finally reach the point where either we're going to have to leave and find a place to cum together in short order, or I'm going to take you right there in the booth, but as we look around again, we notice that the waitress is looking around the corner of a hallway at us, and as our eyes meet hers, she licks her lips lasciviously and she raises her index finger to curl and uncurl it in our direction indicating we should follow her, and then she disappears down the hall. Our curiosity piqued, we rise from the table after I return my self to a presentable condition, and we move to look down the hall. There waiting for us in an open office doorway are the waitress and the manager, embracing fondly and looking at us expectantly. They both smile at us and the manager nods toward the office as the waitress slowly hikes up her skirt and shows us a little thigh and garter at the top of her fishnet stocking. We look back briefly before slipping inside the office with them and closing the door behind us. The office is nicely decorated with a fine oak desk and leather covered chairs and a leather couch, in keeping with the decor in the restaurant. The waitress, Tiffany, introduces us to the manager, Mike, and explains that she noticed we were in need of a place to play and that she thinks we make a really cute couple. Mike asks if we would like to play while they play too, and we can watch each other if we like. I tell them that's very kind of them, and you say that they make a cute couple, too. She has long curly black hair, which she now lets down, and she slips out of her clothes to reveal a pert, curvy figure. He's built well with a little padding here and there, and he strips down to his shorts as she hinders him with kisses. By this time I've obtained permission to set you on his generously sized desk and I'm sitting in the chair spreading your thighs as you lean back and watch them while I begin to devour my true dessert from your glistening honeywell. She squats down with her legs spread and arches her back as she pulls down his shorts and takes his cock in one hand to feed on it as she strokes her trimmed but furry pussy with her other hand. He watches her intently and glances occasionally at you as she gulps down his length and then slips it out to lick it up and down. I bring you right to the very edge of cumming and hold you there before I rise and spank your slick folds with the shaft of my prick before slipping the pinkish head just a little ways inside your opening as you raise your head and sit up slightly to watch what I'm doing there between your legs, and drink in the sight of my long stiffness slipping slowly into your delicious belly. Mike is now seated on the couch and Tiffany has turned her ass to him as she straddles his cock and slowly glides down on it as she masturbates in front of us. She naughtily asks if she looks good with cock in her and we both reply that she does. He arches up into her as she rides his prickshaft slowly up and down, jilling her little button every now and again and plainly holding her orgasm off while she enjoys fucking him longer and watching us. I'm slipping all the way deep inside you now, and lightly rubbing your clit with my thumb as you part the low-cut front of your gown and firmly feel your tits up in front of me as I slide slowly in and out of your hot little cunt. As your mouth drops open and you arch your back, I keep holding you near the edge and tease you right up to the verge with occasional hard thrusts that slap my tight balls against your ass and bump my pelvic bone against your clit. The desk is at ideal height and I'm able to get very deep in you, and as I plunge into your writhing body, I guide you up to remove your gown leaving you naked and full of my cock on the desk. I'm getting very close myself, but I want this to last a lot longer, so I slip out of you and lick and kiss a trail up your belly and between your breasts, before slowly returning down that trail again to your quivering flower. As I lap up your frothy little petals, Tiffany begins to shake and pant as she bounces over that slippery cock of his and grinds her fingertips furiously side to side over her clit. She starts to cum and wave after wave hits her as she gets that little cunt of hers off again and again in a long string of explosions. Her flow gushes out over his balls and onto the edge of the couch and the floor as she keeps working her pussy and riding his prick. I slip two fingers deep up in you as I lick and suck your little button, and then I quickly send you off too as I spear my cockshaft back way up deep in your quivering loins and work your clit fast and soft. You feel that exquisite lust build to a frenzy as you come several times on my thrusting prick while you watch them fuck and then turn to watch me heaving fiercely between your sexy thighs and impaling your wriggling body with my twitching prick. As you clench down on me again and again, I begin to growl, and my body tenses as my prick flexes deep within you pumping out my hot seed in thick spurts. As you watch my sweat-beaded face, and my mouth drops open, you hear Mike cumming too behind Tiffany's little barks and squeals of delight. I collapse against you and you feel your back pressed against the now warm and slick oak finish of the desk, and you turn to watch Tiffany ease up off Mike and move to face him and straddle him on a naked embrace, her arms around his neck and her head bowed beside his. After enjoying a little afterglow, we all rise and get dressed again. As we prepare to leave the office, Mike shakes my hand and gently holds your arm briefly, and he tells me that our check is taken care of, and that it's been their pleasure to enjoy our company, and to please come back any time we like. We thank them both and return the sentiments, and promise we'll pay them a visit again soon. I add that we have even more incentive now that we know how good the dessert is here. They discreetly blow us a kiss and the patrons and the rest of the staff seem none to be the wiser as we make our way through the place and out into the cool night air. Just Dessert Why did I let this happen? It wasn't the first time. It was the third, in fact. And of course she knew why. But why did she let him? He was forty-three, twenty years older than she was. Not as sprightly, as energetic, as effervescent, he said. As virile, even, he admitted. She was tied to the bed. He said that arousal was good for her. Kept her young. Which is why he did it. But why did she let him? Was it because she was his wife? Or was it because it suited her to let him? Suited her plans, say. They had met through her acting. She'd played Sue Drabbs, in 'Escapade' - the lead. He produced. She had tried hard. He had flattered. She succumbed. Married in Paris. Mother furious. Now they lived in Hampstead. And she was sometimes tied to a bed. 'Shhh,' she heard from the door. She was blindfolded. Black silk. No pain. No strain. Anonymity. Like a cat who couldn't see you. You therefore couldn't see it. A hand closed over her breast. That tingle. That shiver. That flutter, deep down in her innards. The sexual awakening. The fluttered eyelash of the sexual soul. The languid lids that gently open. Secretive. Private. Intimate. No-one could mine her this deeply to know what went on deep down like this. They could make it happen. But couldn't tell what. A touch to her breasts always did this. Heat started drifting to the surface of her skin. The private places, secret glades. With it that extraordinary sensitivity that walked hand in hand with the heat, the arousal, the start of her sexual march. The root march into the sun. It was a large hand. The skin was rough, rougher than her husband's. It was a hand that belonged to a man, that wasn't her husband. It touched her with reverence. Carefully. With anticipation -- a certain longing, even. As if flattered to be there. She tried to guess, behind her mask, who's hand it was. The tall man at the end of the dinner table? The one in the pin-striped suit? The one with the polka-dot handkerchief in the pocket of his jacket? The one with the little moustache? (He was a lawyer she had guessed.) Her husband never let her meet them. She wasn't introduced. She served the food. Wore a short black dress and a white lace apron, black stockings, black shoes. Referred to, not at all. Inferred: she was the maid. 'Gorgeous fucking maid,' one suggested, sotto voce, as she left with a tray full of plates. Part of the game, the strategy, the plan. Anonymity for her. Anonymity for them. Another pair of hands joined the first and started stroking her legs and with the touch the bright awareness of this other human being, wanting her, to touch her, feel the softness of her skin, see the way his touch aroused her, this smooth young prime conditioned female on the bed, tied there, displayed like a steak -- or dessert -- all clean and primed and washed and dabbed with ... spices? She and Richard had married because he had money and influence and power in the direction she wanted to go. She was a secretary but wanted to act. He could help. He said she had latent emotion he wanted to nurture, see grow, to blossom. Perhaps to be ignited and explode! She had a latent sexuality, he said, of unrealised potential, and unbelievable power. 'I bet that's what you say to all the pretty girls,' she had suggested. 'Certainly not,' he had objected. A third set of hands was upon her. Long-fingered hands. They were stroking the indent of her stomach, stretched out, stretched flat, pulled tight like the skin on a drum-head. She was fit and trim. In shape. And when her legs were spread, and tied, and her arms stretched out above her head, and similarly tied, then her breast were thrust up, and her chest thrust out, and the stomach pulled taught, like a drum. The fingers danced over it. Gently. Reveling, perhaps, in its taught ribbed hard tight feel. Older women's stomachs were flabby. Hers was far from that. The fingers tip-toad back across the fastness. She liked to be stroked. Caressed. To be felt, explored. She liked that they should want to do it to her. She liked that just the look of her should make them ...want to touch her. Feel her. Stroke. Caress. Explore. The power that she had to make them want to do that, was in itself an aphrodisiac. Heady in it's potency. She arched her back as the hands on her legs went between them and stirred her there. Some of the 'latent sexuality' of which Jim had high hopes, and so perceptively guessed might be there. They did it again. She arched her back, again, and opened her lips, and heard herself sigh. Where did this creature live? This creature that tempted them to her. Drew them like moths to a lamp, then made them reach out, and touch, caress. Did it live in her thighs? In the folds and softness between her legs? In the gentle nipples, even now being stroked and tweaked -- Ngaar, I hear myself growl -- and which as quickly firm and stand erect and beg to be harassed some more. The hand at her breast left her nipple. Fingers wandered down each side. Palm against the nipple. Breast within outstretched fingers. Then ... all is brought together and the breast becomes encased in squeezing pressing digits sweating palm and lusting mind, wanting thoughts, craving senses. Seeking her! Her pelvis did a roll atop the bed sheets, moving soft and powerful and with grace for she knew, They sought her, Wanted her, Needed her. A stranger's lips came on her own. She let them come. Softened her own in response. Drifted into meditative state. Put all her focus on the lips: her lips, his lips, both sets of lips, together. She liked it like that. She liked them to arouse themselves with her. Excite her in turn, in their own sweet way. Richard would be out there. Somewhere. Making sure they weren't too rough. They rarely were. Is a python rough with a cheetah? She groaned again, and squirmed. She couldn't help it. She didn't need to. 'The more you use your feelings and senses the better you are able to express them,' Richard liked to say. Especially the sexual ones, he meant 'Ngaaar,' she gasped, arching her back as fingers slipped into the ridges of softness that guarded the citadel deep within the cradle of her thighs. Looking for the sweetness that was there, under the coverlets of moist engorged ridges of skin. Like lips. Like touch. Liking the touches with which due homage was paid. Hers was an alter which would always reward due homage. By swelling, engorging, inviting. Reaching out. More hands were on her body now. Her warmth had turn to sweat. The sweat encouraged caresses. Oily lascivious caresses. Skin that slides across skin like a snake might curl around a carcass, feeling as it goes, being felt as it squirms, bringing reaction -- soft and gentle yet alert and aware -- and aroused as it moves, wanting more. A hand on a breast rolled it round in fingers longing, yet needy. Fingers on her other breast had a nipple under study, then under attack, and under pressure to explode in an upward thrust at the tempting, toying, fingertips. But for arousal elsewhere. The brains tight circuits flash, then blush, then bloom, as fingers deep within the lips of her labia, tight against the clitoris hood, pulled back, the clitoris proud, little but bold and determined, peering out at the world of searching hands. And minds. And senses. Extensions of this need that they display. A finger tentatively touches her tight proud bastion of womanhood. Her clitoris springs alert. Erect. Engorged. Engaging in its links to the core of her soul. She feels it, bottoming out in the depth of her intestines. Just as the work on her nipples tugs at a string that is deep within her heart. Pleasant stirrings. Rousing music. Sexually arousing lines, linked to the points where she buzzes and purrs when hot. When plucked. Played. Her pelvis lifts off the bed as the hand between her legs plays some more. She groans. A deep unfulfilled yearning groan -- a call to the mate, a supplication, acquiescence. Take me! Mate me! Make me whole. It set them off. It always does. It made them hot, and gave them purpose, made them whole as well. They had a duty to perform, a noble function to fill, a maiden's cry to answer. They were man! (Between them, one must be?) She felt the bonds round her ankles being loosed as the lips that were on hers gently parted, reverently, cautiously, as if something within her mouth might come out and prove to be too strong, too potent, to quick and fast and poisonous for him. Her tongue! It came out like the head of a serpent. Sharp and pointed and fast. Plunged its length as firmly and fatly and fully as it could into his tentative mouth. Tentative, momentarily only. For then his own was there, joining the fray, the dance. The wrestling match. As the howl of both their breaths, and the eddies of both their mouths, and the thrusting, seeking, stroking, rolling, roiling of the tongues that were involved, quickstepped between the two mouths. 'Mmmgrrah,' she purred in his mouth as her tongued broadsided his. 'Mgggrra" she gasped, as his invaded hers and backed her tongue to her throat. 'Ngggah,' she gagged as her tongue chased his, and tasted his, and coiled around and beneath what was his, in his mouth as his lips pressed hard and her own fought back as she sought to make both mouths one. They broke the kiss. Her mouth opened wide. The cry came deep from her throat, as her legs were spread and a penis tiptoed into the star of things, thrust home, and her legs coiled round the man's back. 'Aaagrh,' she groaned, cry drowned, prick deep, pussy tingling and stretching. Alive to its visitor just as a tongue is alive to the presence of chili. Nothing else there. Nowhere else exists. Just this great invasive presence. All the sense endings involved. Bringing something close to arousal's peak as the mountain starts to be climbed. As the slope takes on excitement. As the ridge ahead becomes a siren's call. And the urge to ascend, hypnotic. How can arousal so hard and deep and alluring go on in the midst of all this arousal. The effect of the hand on her breast, the finger on her nipples, the lips on her lips, the mouth on her mouth, the tongue with hers, and the thighs within hers, and the crushing, bruising, battling, blending, of rampant prick and grasping pussy -- gaping, craving, crying, clutching. A fight for more in, but a need for more out, and a sense of the whole being the movement. 'Argh!' she cried once. Then twice. 'Aaaaargh!' she cried out, once more, as the rhythm of the thrusts and the madness of the grasping, groping, squeezing of the hands all over her, drove her cries higher, and quicker, and faster, and louder. Like a malformed kettle leaking steam. Whistling kettle. Her cries took on a rhythm of their own. Vagina kept pace. So did her assailant, moving fast, then faster still as she rose up off the bed, all the weight on the muscles, lower back, lifted him higher, and higher, as higher and higher went her cries, then ...'Ngraaaaah!' came the peak of the mountain, top of the world, height of all heights that exist. And she pumped him and pumped him and pumped him and pumped him ... Until the heavenly vision turned red, then coral, then blended into softness like the down of a lamb, silk of a web, softness of moss. She let the hulk within her thighs back down to earth. Lowering him slowly, as she did herself. 'Mmmmmh,' she thought, contented, knowing that more was to come, but enjoying that one for herself. They went on, with her, for another hour, but none was as good as the first. And then it began to be the same. One prick not too different from another. One kiss, much like the last, one tongue ... She began to get sore. Chaffed. Overused. Which is when she held up three fingers. That was the signal, three fingers, telling Richard she'd had enough. And Richard was a gentleman that way. Once he saw that his wife had her three fingers raised, he'd call them off. 'Needs her rest, poor dear,' he would say as he lead them quietly from the room. 'Got to cook breakfast tomorrow,' he would joke, good-naturedly, as he put the light out, and closed the door. Where I would stay, for some moments, before leaving the maid's room. Which is where all these activities took place, and going for a shower. And sleep. And I always had a lie in in the morning. Let him get his own breakfast. Just Desserts I came home and put my key in the door as usual. When I opened the door, I was greeted with a sight. She was there, on the carpet, on her knees. Her hand were behind her back, her head was bowed. She was naked. I stopped for a moment, put my bag down and hung up my coat. Finally, I addressed my slave. "What is it?" "This slave humbly asks to be punished, Master." She told me in a soft, slightly querulous voice. I walked behind her, studying her form. I saw her raven black hair, coming to a point just below the nape of her neck, exposing her black collar. I took in her flawless back, narrowing at the waist and then flaring sharply. I could see her buttocks, currently unmarked. That would change. "You may stand and face me." She turned as she stood to face me, feet properly set the required shoulder distance apart, eyes suitably downcast. I stood back and studied her, knowing that this increased her feeling of vulnerability. She wasn't classically beautiful, but the slight upturn in the corner of her eyes and the emphasized cheekbones betrayed an ancestor of Asian origins. Her complexion, however, was alabaster white, pure, flawless. She almost looked albino; I knew that she had to cover up in the sun, or else she burnt quickly. I had used that fact before. Her downcast eyes hid what I knew was her best asset, so I told her to "Look at me!" She raised her eyes to me, those beautiful deep blue eyes that I'd fallen for first. They were shadowed, troubled. As well they might be, for she was to be punished. I punished hard. "Follow!" I ordered, and turned on my heel. I knew she would be a few steps behind me. I walked to The Room, the one we normally didn't use, except for this. I unlocked the door and walked in. Inside was red carpet, cream wall, and brown leather on dark oak. I moved to what looked like an overlarge footstool, a little lower than my crotch, and broader. The restraints were there, so I simply indicated the punishment bench and said, "There!" She lay down across it, so that her ass was held up while she could lay her cheek on the cool leather. She would soon be craving every bit of comfort. One belt came up and over at the small of her back, to fasten on the other side. Another held her hands in front of her. The last two held her thighs apart, allowing me the perfect sight of her shaven pussy, already glistening and puffy and pink, and the rosebud of her ass, winking at me between the twin globes of her asscheeks. Tonight I would warm her up first before resorting to stronger measures. I took a simple twelve inch shatterproof plastic ruler. It would sting, and redden, but not damage. I took up a position behind the captive form, to one side, my own torso pointed across the bench and its occupant. I waited, making a few practice swings with the ruler, letting her anticipation grow. She couldn't have seen what I would use, she couldn't know in advance how much it would hurt. Only that it would hurt. 'Crack!' She stiffened at the blow. I drew back my arm to see the result, and to once more grow the tension she'd be feeling. A single broad stripe of pink had been painted on the pale canvas. I smiled. 'Crack!' Again, I waited. She stiffened once more beside me, but no sound escaped her lips. Not yet. 'Crack! Crack! Crack!' Three blows quickly in succession, and now she moved, just a little, a twitch of her ass, a flicker of movement in her fingers. I knew this would be warm on her ass, that the blows, just overlapping, would be setting up a nice tingle. She'd probably be thinking she could enjoy this. Yeah, right. 'Crack! Crack Crack!' Once more, I placed the three quick blows on her ass, this time ensuring that they covered targets that had already been painted on. Once more, I was rewarded by the twitching of her ass, the involuntary movements of her fingers. I thought I detected a sharper intake of breath this time, too, but I wasn't quite sure. One more. 'CRACK!!' It was a good job I was using a shatterproof ruler. This blow had more force behind it, very nearly full force. I had stood up as I delivered it, the blow crossed diagonally down from nearside to far, crossing mostly of those before. "Ahhh!" It was the first audible result of my artwork. I dropped the ruler beside the bench and moved to the front, undoing my flies as I did. I pulled out my erection and placed it between her lips. "Suck!" I ordered, and she did so with skill and enthusiasm. I knew she loved to give head, she knew that I loved to receive it. I wasn't going to let her make me come, though, that would wait. I wanted to emphasise her submission, so I pushed myself deeper into her mouth. The angle was wrong for her, she couldn't take me all the way, but I wanted her to feel me at the back of her throat, to know that I was using her, that I would use her as I saw fit. I pulled out, then shoved my cock deeply back into her mouth, making her eyes water. I saw and felt her gag a little, but that was a reflex she'd been well trained to overcome. I pulled out and went behind her again. I slapped her ass with my empty hand, relishing the sting, enjoying the sight of my handprint on her in darker pink than the already striped painting I'd put there. I grasped the cheeks of her ass and pulled them apart, hard. Her little rose puckered at me, but this time I was going for her cunt. I took my now thoroughly wetted dick and thrust into her. I was fully embedded very quickly, setting a hard and fast rhythm. My slave moaned as I thrust, deeply, hard, fast, giving her little time to build up, going for my own pleasure. Yet I knew I would stop before the ultimate end. I had more work to do. As I felt the come begin to boil in my balls I pulled out and reached for the other implement I would use tonight. The crop felt heavy, yet balanced in my hand. I rarely used it, because this would cause damage if applied too strenuously. Once more I took up position to one side of the slave. There was a sheen of perspiration on the bound form beside me. Her breath was coming fast- she had become quite aroused by my rutting. I prepared to administer her punishement. 'Thwack!' Instantly I saw and heard the result. A white line formed across her buttocks which very quickly became a bright red. A cry, forced from her lips. She tried to arch her back, I saw, but the belt forced her to stay in place, and the only effect was to raise her head and shoulders a little. I waited for her to calm. I waited to see if she would say anything. Silence. 'Thwack!' Again, the line. Again, the cry, and the involuntary movements. Again, the silence after. I gave my slave three more blows. The last one was once more delivered diagonally across the others. This was the blow that I had to be careful with, for if delivered too hard, it could cause permanent damage to her. The results were beautiful. I stood back to admire. The pink colouration of her ass, framed by the white of her thighs and back. The dark red of the five bar gate that I'd drawn there over the pinkness. The slippery wet, engorged pink of her pussy, inner lips now fully in flower, twitching, moving slightly from side to side as she tried to ease her pain. He asshole, darker in colour than the rest, opening and closing in spasms. I could wait no longer. I stepped forward and grasped my dick, entering her cunt, thrusting fully home in one movement. She gasped as I did so, and then gave a cry as I came into contact with her damaged flesh. Apparently heedless I withdrew and thrust once more, then set a slow but deep tempo, drawing almost completely out of the grasping pussy in front of me before plunging as deep as I could inside. I kept this up for a few minutes, before withdrawing and grasping myself. I aimed a little higher, pressing the tip of my cock against the pulsing rosebud presented before me. I began to apply the pressure, gradually feeling her give way. Finally the head was inside, and I almost withdrew, really just a reduction in the force used to enter. The form in front of me, pale, sweating, panting, opened up to me and I thrust once more, getting deeper into her tightest portal. A few more thrusts and I felt my thighs come into contact with the fiery red welts left by the crop, and she cried once more. I withdrew a little, then thrust once more, this time feeling my balls swing with a wet sound against her pussy. Now I pulled further out before once more forcing my hard flesh deeply into her, setting up a faster pace now. My own sweat was beading on my forehead, running down, and I pulled one hand away from her straining hip to wipe it out of my eyes. I could see her body moving, I could feel her ass clenching me, I could smell her arousal, a deep feminine musk that overpowered all else. I could her grunts, turning almost into squeaks as I deepened my movements. I could taste the excitement in the air. When she came, she did so convulsingly, her movements constrained by the belts, but I saw her muscles forcefully bunch and move, I felt her ass clamp down so hard on my throbbing tool I could hardly move. Her trademark squeal rose in pitch and volume, modulated by my body's movement as I forced my dick to move in the now incredibly tight confines of her ass. I came. I shot what seemed to be a torrent of cum, feeling it draw up from my balls, pass through my dick and explode from my head deep inside her ass. I groaned deeply with the force of it, thrusting again and then one final time, feeling spunk jet out of my dick with each thrust. I stopped, my chest heaving and sweat pouring. I realised that my heart was pumping hard, that I still had my shirt on. I couldn't remember dropping my trousers and underwear, I couldn't remember kicking off my shoes. I was there, my dick deep inside my sweet slave, clad in my shirt and socks. I withdrew and stroked the body slumped in front of me, murmuring soft words that I knew she wouldn't quite be hearing yet. I dropped to my knees behind her and undid the straps at her thighs, then the belt across her back, and finally the one holding her hands captive in front of her. Still she didn't move beyond the deep rise and fall of her chest as she recovered from the explosive force of her own orgasm. I knelt on one knee in front of her. "My love, that's your punishment over. Come back to me, sweetest." My darling wife opened one eye, a half smile on her face. "You gave me a really good workout this time, darling. Thank you!" I kissed her, this woman that I loved above all others, who gave me everything, heart and soul and, especially, her body to play with. I picked her up and carried her to the bathroom, laying her on the small couch we kept there for just these occasions. I kept telling her "I love you, darling, I love you!" as I drew her bath, adding scented bath oils, ensuring that it wasn't too hot to begin with. I would add more hot water later. After her bath, I dried her carefully in the big, fluffy towel, gently patting her ass dry. She flinched a little each time I did so, but she told me "Don't stop, dearest. I deserve it." "Just what exactly did you do that deserved punishment this time?" I asked her. "I burnt dinner, darling. We'll have to eat out, tonight, I'm afraid." "Hmm. How's your appetite?" "I'm starving, especially after a session like that. You know how hungry I get!" "Have you made the reservations already?" "Yes, I have. Sunflowers for half past nine." It was our favourite restaurant. It also had very comfortable seats. We arrived in time for drinks at the bar, then the maitre d' showed us to our table. My wonderful wife was able to move into her seat, but winced a little as she sat despite the comfortable, padded chair. I looked at her, concerned, but she waived my look away. We checked over the menu. I saw an option and pointed it out to her. She smiled at me and nodded. During the soup, I noticed her squirming in her seat, trying to find a comfortable position. Our waitress came and removed the bowls, and placed four dessert spoons and forks ready for each of us. She smiled, told us "Your first will be along in a moment," and walked swiftly away. We were having an unconventional meal. The option I'd spotted was called 'The Night of the Four Puddings' and meant we'd have a soup followed by four of the evening's desserts, chosen by the chef. It usually meant a lot of calories, but after the workout we'd just had, that wasn't really an issue. After we'd stuffed ourselves on a lovely strawberry blancmange, a mincemeat tart with lemon fool, a plum crumble and a simple apple pie, I felt like calling it a night. But she hadn't finished. "Would you like coffee and biscuits?" the waitress asked. I shook my head, but my wife answered, "Yes, please." "When the waitress had left I said to my dearest, "I knew it! You wouldn't be able to stick to having your..." I smiled at her, a smile that was returned tenfold. "Just Desserts!" we said, together! Just Desserts He, Jason that is, stood up, there was a drop of cum on the end of his cock and he signalled that I should lick it off. "You are the best fuck I have ever had, do you know that?" "You've been telling me that for the last three months, how long before I'm the only fuck for you?" "Don't start that again, you know that I have to wait for the right time to tell her. If I don't she'll take me to the cleaners, and you wouldn't want that, would you?" "Right now I couldn't care less if you were stone motherless broke, as long as we are together, isn't that what you want?" "Sure Honey, but wouldn't it be better if we weren't broke?" He glanced at his watch and I knew that it was time for him to go home to the little wifey who was waiting patiently for him to finish work. After he had gone, and I had cleaned up the mess from our passion, I sat down, a glass of wine in my hand, and took stock of my situation. Here I was 36 years old, the experience of one disastrous marriage well and truly behind me, a good job as the PA to a Director, Jason, of a large insurance company, fucking my boss, Jason, at least once a week, what more could a girl want? I'll tell you what this girl wants Baby, she wants a man to call her own, a man who'll come home each night and take her in his arms and love her, genuinely, passionately, love her. No more furtive little couplings with someone else's husband or boy friend, and soon. My biological clock just about needs a new battery. The following Thursday I had just finished the reports for the Friday Board Meeting and I felt a hand on my shoulder. "Tracy." I looked up at him. "Tomorrow night Bill from Claims is having a birthday bash." "And this interests me how?" I was still feeling shitty after last Friday night. "We have planned a party at a hotel, we'll be having dinner first and then, I've booked a room where we can kick on in earnest." "Good for you, and I suppose that I should be happy sitting at home on my own, watching some crap on TV and, if I feel the urge come on, masturbating." "No! That's not what I mean at all. I want you to come too." "Then why didn't you say so in the first place instead of getting me all upset?" Friday night and we were all in the hotel dining room, eating our expense account meals and drinking our expense account liquor. I was the only girl in the party, which worried me until I got a glow up from the booze. At around ten we all staggered to the elevator and headed for the room. At this point I was really beyond caring about what was going to happen. All the guys were so friendly and considerate, I liked them well enough, and they were a happy bunch away from work. Drinks were poured and we sat around having a good time and talking about all sorts of stupid crap, I was sitting on Jason's lap and I could feel his hand creeping up my skirt, and do you know what? I didn't care if all of the guys could see it. Eventually, too slowly for me but he got there, his finger found its way under my thong and into my pussy. My legs spread apart and a silence descended on the room. We had their undivided attention. "Bill, come over here." Jason said to the guest of honor. "Have a feel." Bill walked, that's if his sideways shuffle could be called a walk, over and knelt beside us, his hand snaked out and his finger found its way into my pussy. I didn't mind that someone other than Jason was fingering me, in fact I quite liked it. Jason had unbuttoned my blouse and taken it off, along with my bra. My tits were one of my better points, tits, points, get it? He began to fondle me. I was getting quite worked up, Bill was stroking away like mad and my pussy was as wet as. "I think Bill wants to fuck you." Jason whispered into my ear, "Would that be okay with you?" "If it's okay with you then I guess so." I stood up and removed my skirt and thong. Bill stripped off and lay on the floor with his flag pole ready to receive me so I straddled him. Jason stood in front of me so I took his cock in my mouth and, while Bill was pumping away underneath me, I sucked Jason deep into my mouth until I could feel the head of his cock jamming into my throat. I held my breath for as long as I could before pulling back and gasping for air. In the mean time the other guys were getting their clothes off and standing around us, stroking their cocks in anticipation. With a grunt Bill unloaded a wad of cum inside me and slid out from under. I could feel his cum oozing out of my pussy as Jason lifted me up and carried me over to the sofa. He laid me down and started fucking me, shoving his cock into me more forcefully than usual, causing me to grunt with each stroke. One of the other guys stood beside me and offered his cock to my mouth which obliged by opening up and sucking him. The other guys were standing around wanking themselves. I didn't know whether they were all going to fuck me or not, and quite frankly I didn't care. The guy in my mouth pulled out and, with a couple of strokes on his cock he shot a stream of cum over my face and tits. This seemed to be a cue for the other guys to do the same and in minutes there were several streams of sticky, gooey cum dribbling down my tits. "C'mon Baby." Jason said as he raised the tempo of his fucking until he came inside me. Pulling out he stood up and turning to the other guys, "What did I tell you, she's the best fuck you'll ever get. Who's for seconds?" It all became a blur after that, I didn't know who was doing what, All I could remember was that, at one point I had a cock in my pussy, one in my ass, one in my mouth and one in each hand. There was cum flying everywhere, it was all over me, the sofa, the floor, I hated to think what the cleaners were going to say about this. There was a general hiatus in the sexual activities as we recharged our batteries with more booze. The guys all sat around with smug, self-satisfied looks on their faces. They were having sex with a horny chick and it felt good, for them. They felt like real men, macho men, studs, not corporate geeks who had to hurry home to their wives as soon as they had finished work. They had all gotten a leave pass for the night and they meant to have fun with a capital 'F', capital 'U' and capital 'N'. "Time for more." Jason said as he bent me over the end of the sofa and shoved his cock into me from behind. The others watched as he fucked me for several minutes until he came, half inside me and half on my back as he withdrew halfway through the cumming process. One by on the others followed suit. I didn't mind it this way because they didn't have to lie on top of me and a couple of them were no lightweights. They had all just finished when the door flew open and who should walk in but the wives, a group of very angry wives, baying for blood. "Shit! What are they doing her?" "I invited them." I said. "What! Why would you do that?" "Because my fine fucking friend, I was sick of being used by you, Stephanie was sick of you taking her for granted and cheating on her. The same goes for the other wives, Cindy, Judy, Francey and Sam, they all knew about your cheating, and so we decided that you should all get it out of your systems before you go down." "What do you mean, 'go down'?" "Just what I said. You, my fine feathered friend are finished, kaput, it's over, and you're fired. You, and this goes for all of you, have one hour on Monday morning to clear your desks and leave the building, and don't even think about taking your clients with you, you see the company has spoken to all of them and they are quite happy to stay on board with a reputable company staffed by reputable people. I have been offered your job, after all, while you've been swanning around promoting yourself and not the company, I have been the one doing all the work. The company has seen fit to reward my efforts." "You bitch! You'll never get away with this! I'll tell the board what happened tonight and how you began seducing me right from the day that you started with the company! And how you offered yourself for a night of sex! You'll pay for this you fucking bitch!" "I don't think so." The company CEO walked through the door. He had several envelopes in his hand. I was fully aware of what was happening here tonight. "You conveniently neglected to mention to Tracy that she would be the only woman here and that you had planned a gang bang. You see Stephanie had already spoken to me about her concerns about the long hours that you were 'working'. The company has been concerned for some time at the high number of Secretaries and PA's that have left for 'personal reasons'. I investigated and it was then that I discovered that you men were involved in activities that I, and the Board, frowned upon, so we had to act. I spoke to Tracy some weeks ago and she confirmed that you had come on to her and that you had promised to leave your wife if she would have sex with you, a promise that you have made before, and have no intention of keeping." "We contacted a few of your previous PA's and they confirmed that the reason they left was that they had felt used by you and your sexual desires. I asked Tracy if she would help us and she agreed to this plan. Here, gentlemen are you severance packages, you know the rest." "And here," the women produced envelopes of their own. "Are divorce papers, you each have the weekend to get out of the house." The penny finally dropped and when it landed it measured about 3.2 on the Richter scale. What started out to be a fun night of good food, good booze and great sex had turned, for them at least, into a disaster. "Group hug." I held out my arms for the women and we hugged each other, It was then that I realised that I was still naked, and not only was I still naked but I was still covered in half dry sticky gooey man juice, and do you know what? The girls, the CEO and I didn't give a shit. While I went into the bathroom and cleaned up the men were busy. As they each scrambled into their clothes they pleaded with their wives for another chance which, in each case, was denied. "You may as well stay here now that you've paid for the room, after all I don't think that you're welcome at home." The CEO said. As we left the room it was with mixed feelings and emotions. The girls were all chatting about what they had put up with from the men in their lives, the cheating, the lies, and the feeling that they were not appreciated. I was feeling pleased in a way, I wouldn't have to put out for Jason any more, he wasn't that good in bed, but he made it obvious that if I didn't put out I would be replaced by someone who would, and I loved my work. Now that I had his job I felt that, at last, I was in control of my destiny, something that I hadn't felt for most of my life, right through my first marital disaster and now this. "Can I take you home?" Andrew asked. Oh, I forgot to mention that the CEO's name was Andrew didn't I? "Thank you, that would be nice." I knew a lot about him; he was about ten years older than me, a widow with three almost adult kids at college or in good jobs, so they had lives of their own now. He dated infrequently, no serious relationships, and then only with women who were involved in similar projects to him. He lived in a large house on a hill overlooking the city, complete with swimming pool, and which he was half planning to sell because he thought it too big for him on his own, but his kids want him to keep it. "A penny for them?" He asked. "Oh, they're not worth that much, it's just a jumble of thoughts about what has happened tonight." "What are your plans for the rest of the evening?" "Probably go home and go to bed, I have consumed a large amount of alcohol tonight. You weren't planning on kicking on were you?" "No, but I would like the opportunity to discuss your future before we get to work on Monday. There will be a lot of speculation about how you just happen to be promoted to Jason's old job and him and the others being fired. I thought, if it's okay with you, that we could go back to my place and discuss this and, if you didn't feel like going home, I have plenty of room and you can stay the night." "I'd like that." I didn't know what to think, sure being prepared for Monday was beginning to worry me and it would be good to get things sorted before the inevitable, but being invited to spend the night with him was right out of left field. He drove up the steep driveway and through the already opened garage doors into a three car garage. Beside the BMW we just arrived in, there was a Range Rover and a Morgan. He caught the quizzical look on my face. "The Beemer is my work car, the other two are my passion. I like to get out into the country, hence the Range Rover, and then I really enjoy the freedom of driving down the freeway in the Morgan, with the wind blowing through my hair and the sense of power that comes with the car." The garage door closed as we walked through a door at the back of the garage into the house. It was not as big as I had expected, but the rooms were spacious and beautifully furnished. "Would you like a drink or a cup of coffee?" "Coffee would be fine, thank you." We walked into his Kitchen and I watched as he placed a couple of cups under the spout of the coffee maker and pressed a button. While the machine went through the process of grinding and then brewing the coffee, he got some milk from the refrigerator and placed it in the container of the automatic frother. "What would you prefer, black, flat white, latte, you name it and it's yours." "A flat white would be fine." We didn't go into the Living Room, it just felt natural that we should stand in the kitchen and talk. "How do you feel about taking over Jason's work?" "I have no problem with the work, but I'll need to touch bases with the clients so that they are fully up to speed with the changes. I suppose that I'll need a PA, so we should look at the recruitment process and select one. Then of course, and this is the scary bit, there will be the coping with all the scuttlebutt around the office that will surely happen." "I'm going to organise a staff meeting first thing and spell it all out to the staff, I'm sure that they will not be a problem because, even though Jason thought of himself as the popular and indispensable cog that drove the company wheels, the undercurrent that I picked up on was that he wasn't very well liked by the troops." "Thank you for that. I have the feeling that you and I are going to be able to work closely together." "I have that same feeling myself. I have had my eye on your for some time and I like what I see. You are talented, self confident in the way you do your work, you have gotten on with the office staff since the very first day on the job, and I believe that your best is still to come." He took my cup from me and placed it on the sink. He turned to me and took both of my hands in his, he looked into my eyes. "I hope that you don't think it presumptuous of me, but I have been checking into your past. I know that you have been married and it ended badly for you. It took some time for you to get over it and then you had to find a job. You had been out of the loop for too long to go back to what you had been trained for so you did a course and took up secretarial work. You first employer told me that you were a little unsure of yourself at first but once your confidence grew you blossomed. He was reluctant to let you go but was retiring and closing his business." "I fully concur with his opinion of you and the more that I have watched you, the more contact that I have had with you, the more that I respect you. You are a remarkable woman, and to put yourself through what you have had to tonight shows that you have a dedication to this company that is more than I could ask for." "It is not only your company that I am dedicated to, sure I want to see it grow, but to find a boss who is so kind, and so well liked by his staff and business peers is more than I ever hoped for. I've been doing some checking up of my own and I like what I've found out, and if we keep going on like this I'm in danger of getting all misty-eyed and blurting out that I'm falling in love with you." His response was unexpected. He pulled me to him and kissed me with an equally unexpected passion. I melted into him and returned his kiss, his passion and his love. I was in heaven. I was in his bedroom, I was in his bed, he was in me, I was in heaven and by the noises that he was making he was also in heaven. The whole time that Jason and his friends were fucking me I did not orgasm, not once, not even close, but now, I have cum so many times that I have completely lost count, I have even lost count of the number of times that Andrew has unleashed his cum inside me. Whereas before, while I was being the recipient of a gang bang I couldn't care less what was happening, now I cared, I cared that the man inside me also cared, cared enough for me that he didn't just jam his cock into me and pump away until he was finished, he was gentle with me, he was considerate with me and I was aware that he wasn't doing it to release some pent up sexual tension, he was doing it because of his desire for me. As if he could sense what I was thinking, he paused in his love making and looked into my eyes. I could see the emotion in his. "Tracy, I didn't think that I would ever hear myself saying this again, but, I love you, and I realise that I haven't been entirely fair to you expecting you to give yourself to those men. I apologise for putting you through that." I needed to lighten to mood here. "Hey, look at it this way, if I hadn't done that you would still have those guys on your payroll and we wouldn't be here, now, and I love you and would do anything for you." "Then will you marry me?" "Of course!" Saturday morning and we were seated in the kitchen having breakfast when Julie, his daughter walked in with a curious expression on her face. "You're up early." Andrew commented as she sat down at the table. "I just had to get up and find out who was making all that noise last night." "I'm sorry if we disturbed you." "Hey don't be sorry. I was laying awake thinking to myself, 'about time you found someone Pop, and go Studly go!" "Honey this is Tracy, Tracy, Julie." She got up and came to me and gave me a huge hug. "Tracy has just agreed to marry me, isn't that great." It took about half a second for the news to sink in. "About time." She disappeared to reappear a few minutes later with her brothers Alex and Sean. Breakfast became a boisterous and exciting affair and I was made to feel so welcome. It took us ages to fill them in on all that had happened over the last twelve hours and they couldn't believe it when Andrew told them what I had done for him and his company. I actually got to spend a weekend with a family, and not just any family, it was going to be my family. The kids, I feel funny calling them that because they were not much younger than I was, came and went to fulfil pre-existing commitments, but they were there for all the major events like meals, except those that took place in our bed. I have never felt as comfortable as I did that weekend. You should have seen the staff on the Monday morning when we told them the news. They couldn't believe it! And do you know what? No-one complained about me taking Jason's job. And that, dear reader, is how I find myself in this situation, cleaning out my desk for the last time. The staff keep coming by my desk to wish me good luck and I've had so many hugs I feel like my ribs are about to crack. There is a pile of presents on my desk, mainly clothes that I'll never wear, but our child will in a couple of months. I have finally made it before the alarm goes on my biological clock. Just Desserts "You deserve an early mark." Andrew said as he came up behind me and held me ever so gently, his hands under my bump, and kissing my cheek. He signalled to a couple of the staff who gathered up all the presents and helped us carry them down to our car. This was the signal for another round of kissing and congratulations as we left the office. I guess that I've gotten my just desserts. Just Desserts The waiter took us to our table. Once we were seated, he handed us the menus. "Would you care to see the wine list?" He asked. "Yes," you told him. While you looked over the list, I slipped off one of my shoes and began rubbing my foot up your leg. I kept looking at my menu and moved one of my fingers to the corner of my mouth. When I slowly stuck my finger in my mouth, my foot lightly touched your dick. You quickly mumbled something to the waiter and he left. I slid my finger in and out of my mouth and looked up from my menu to see your face. "I think I'll have the fettuccini alfredo. What'll you have?" I asked you. "I think you know what I want," you told me as you looked from me to your crotch where my toes continued to tickle your dick. At that moment the waiter returned, opened the wine, and said, "Are you ready to order?" "We'll both have the fettuccini alfredo," you told him hurriedly. You poured our wine and I motioned to you I wanted to toast. "To us. May tonight be one of our most memorable nights and may we not save the best for last." With that I took the glass slowly to my lips and sipped a bit. I sat my glass back down and rubbed my finger around the rim of my glass. I dipped my finger into it and stuck my finger back into my mouth, sucking it in and out in the same motions I rubbed your dick back and forth. We were on our second glass of wine when the food arrived. My foot continued its torture of your dick. As soon as the waiter left, I saw my chance and mouthed, "I'm not wearing any panties." I could feel your dick get even larger if that was possible. You sat your napkin on the table and told me you would be back in a second. As soon as you reached the bathroom door, I hurriedly followed you in. I knocked lightly on your stall door. "Someone's in here," you told me. "I know," I said seductively. With those two words, you unlatched the door. I slid in and locked it behind me. I put my arms around your neck and began kissing your lips. My tongue darted in and out of your mouth. I moved my hands lower and unbuttoned your pants. I then slid them down your legs and I slightly nudged you to sit on the toilet, my lips never leaving yours. I reached down and stroked your throbbing dick several times before ending the kiss. I straddled your legs and lowered my wet and waiting pussy to your dick. As soon as I took you all the way in, the bathroom door opened. I quickly lifted my legs and put my feet on the wall, grabbing your shoulders for support. We heard a man unzip his pants and begin peeing. You took advantage of my inability to move. You reached down and began rubbing my clit. To keep from crying out, I bit my finger. You started rubbing hard and fast, then soft and slow. You then inserted your finger into my pussy as the man flushed. I couldn't hold it in any longer and a moan escaped my lips as he flushed and my juices ran down your hand. The swirling of the water drowned out my moan. As soon as the bathroom door closed, I lowered my legs and began my assault on your dick by moving up and down. I rode you fast and hard. You began thrusting up to meet me. I could tell you were about to cum. I leaned forward and took your bottom lip between my teeth and lightly nibbled on it before sliding my tongue inside. You went over the edge and thrust up one final time as you came. We both sat there and hugged in an embrace for what seemed like hours. In reality, we were in the bathroom for less than five minutes. I stood up, straightened my dress, and helped you to your feet. As soon as you fastened your pants, you washed your hands and walked out. I waited a couple of minutes and did the same. No one saw me leave. Our food was still warm, when we arrived back at the table. When we were almost finished with our meal, the waiter stopped at our table. "Care for any of our dessert?" The waiter asked. "We have several items to choose from." "I think I've had just about all the dessert I can handle for one meal" you told the now puzzled waiter. We both just smiled. Just Desserts The fact is, I was really looking forward to her visit. She and I met online at a spanking site and had hit it off quite well. When I invited Tasha to come out and stay for the weekend, she said she couldn't wait. Apparently, that was an understatement. Imagine my surprise when, instead of arriving Saturday morning as planned, I found her at my door on Friday afternoon. "Oh! Hi!" I exclaimed. While giving her a welcoming hug, I nervously glanced over my shoulder at my apartment which wasn't as tidied up as I like to have it while entertaining guests. "Don't worry about it!" she said when I apologized for the minor mess. Nevertheless, I quickly headed into the kitchen to push a few forks and dishes into the sink as she made herself comfortable in the living room. Then, after fixing Tasha a drink, it was into the bathroom to make sure everything was shipshape. Tasha seemed a bit miffed when I told her I had to go out and do a few things before starting our weekend together. Her irritable mood made for a long afternoon as we went about running errands. She complained that I was taking too long at the hardware store, bitched about how boring it was at the pharmacy and practically threw a tantrum in the bank. Normally, I would have cut my business short and taken her home for a trip across my knee or spanked her in the back seat of my car. But I had something else in mind. I took her to a family restaurant in my neighborhood. When a waitress with a name tag reading "Doris" came to our table, I ordered a steak with fries. "And you?" she asked Tasha. "Oh, she won't be having any supper." I said, plucking the menu from Tasha's hands. "She's been a very bad girl." Both my friend and the waitress were stunned. But when Tasha simply lowered her head in embarrassment, all Doris could say was: "And to drink?" "Coffee for me. She'll have a glass of water, no ice." Then I winked at Doris, signaling that all was well. She smiled apprehensively and nodded as she gathered up the menus. "Shit! Are you crazy?!" whispered Tasha frantically. "I can't believe you said that!" "Watch your language!" I told her. "Unless you want to go to the men's room and use some hand soap as mouthwash? You want that?" "No!" she hissed, her eyes darting around to see if anyone else was listening. A moment later, Tasha cringed to see Doris placing our order then subtly pointing us out to another waitress. The other woman giggled a bit then grinned slyly as Doris told her something. After letting my date wallow in public humiliation for a few minutes, I leaned over and spoke to her softly. "If you're really hungry, you can have some dinner." "I'm too embarrassed!" Tasha replied quietly, her cheeks ablaze with disgrace. As I ate my steak and Tasha sipped her water sheepishly, Doris passed by several times, no doubt hoping to obtain another glimpse at our peculiar relationship. She was clearly amused when she saw Tasha attempting to pilfer one of my fries only to have her hand unceremoniously slapped away. After I'd finished my meal, Doris returned to our table to ask if we wanted anything else. "I'm going to have a hot fudge sundae for dessert." I stated. "The young lady will get hers at home." When the sundae arrived, I could sense Tasha eyeing the tower of ice cream and chocolate sauce lustfully as she began to speak. "Could I please-" "Close your mouth." I commanded. Tasha obediently pressed her lips together. I then slowly dipped the spoon into the sundae, carefully gathering up equal portions of chilled vanilla, hot fudge and whipped cream. "Now open it." I said. Tasha smiled then parted her lips wantonly as I brought the spoon to her hungry mouth. She closed her eyes in ecstasy upon tasting the heavenly concoction. I spent the next ten glorious minutes lovingly feeding her the entire sundae, except for the cherry which I'd set aside for last. Tasha flicked her tongue at the glistening orb as I dangled it over her waiting jaws. When I was done teasing, I lowered it so she could seize it with her teeth. "That reminds me..." I mentioned nonchalantly. "You're getting your bottom spanked until it's the color of that cherry as soon as we get home." Tasha's eyes widened as she gulped it down. Within a minute of arriving back at my place, she was over my lap with her panties banded around her thighs as I sat on the edge of the couch delivering the bare-ass walloping she'd so diligently earned. The brisk warm up with my hand had her yelping and lifting her feet a few times, but the dose she received from my trusty oak hairbrush soon turned an already sound spanking into a tanning session Tasha was not likely to forget. As I lifted the heavy wooden brush on high, I grabbed a handful of Tasha's long silky hair and pulled her head back a little as if warning her that tears would soon follow. Tasha tried to brace herself but there was no preparing for that first stunning smack of wood onto her soft, unprotected bottom flesh. No sooner had she cried out in pained surprise from the first swat, then several harder smacks landed delivering a fresh batch of misery to Tasha's fiery buns. After that, the hairbrush moved at a fast and frenzied pace. I spanked Tasha with enthusiasm, fiercely determined to set her back porch on fire. Again and again I slapped the flat, solid surface of the brush against her throbbing, crimson cheeks. Tasha bawled like an errant schoolgirl getting paddled in the principal's office. Kicking wildly, she gripped my left calf tightly with one hand and clawed at the carpet with the other. She tried to call out apologies through the tears streaming down her grimacing face, but her voice was worn out from all that pitiful wailing. Tasha's agonizing ordeal across my knee was followed by a much needed time-out in the nearest corner. After lecturing her at length on the subject of polite behavior, I approached Tasha. By then, her sobbing had finally subsided. Her head rested upon my hand as I placed it on her shoulder. "Turn around." I said. Tasha did as she was told and we embraced. Soon we were kissing with abandon. Our hands excitedly began exploring each other's bodies. Tasha reached into my pants and quickly established a strangle-hold on my manhood. "You're not really going to send me to bed without any supper, are you?" "I hate having to punish you." I groaned. "I doubt that!" she said, smiling wickedly as she slowly slid to her knees. Just as gradually, I unbuttoned and unzipped my slacks. "Here's something else you'll find hard to swallow." "Well, aren't you sweet?" Tasha cooed as she yanked my pants downward. "You tell me." I replied, lowering my boxers and offering her a second helping of dessert. THE END Just Desserts It had been a long day at work - I honestly struggled to keep a grip on the developing situation, but for every step forward, I took another three back. The phone kept bringing further complications; Jack had new figures for the gained losses over three weeks of last June and the sand contractor wanted to increase the cost of waiting for fresh water. When the boys in Outland tried to shift the collision vectors, frustration compelled me to unplug the phone. The report had to reach Finnegan's desk by five and so I indulged in the executive fantasy that time had stopped briefly, determined to simply write my proposal based on the current information. Of course, looking at a static world didn't help as much as I had imagined. I still couldn't find a sensible way to apply the rules I thought should govern the case. At one time, I had hoped to completely escape the demands of the office over the coming weekend. By Tuesday, I knew that was a pipe-dream, but I held onto my hopes, for while they were a rather airy fantasy, I had grown desperate, clinging to whatever dreams of respite I might grab hold of. I gave up on wanting Saturday by pieces - by Thursday it was obvious that I would spend the bulk of that day cleaning up some sloppy paperwork. There was no doubt that I was disappointed, but I knew most professionals can expect to work at least part of Saturday, and I couldn't hope to do better than most with our contract deadlines approaching. The defeat of Saturday, because reasonably expected, only stiffened my resolve. I would not work Sunday. As I dashed out the final paragraph of Finn's report at three minutes after five, I smiled. Sunday might escape. I fought the crawling cross-town traffic home on that hot summer evening, my patience worn achingly thin. Arriving ninety-seven minutes later at our brick and green suburban dwelling, I struggled out of my wretched commuter's prison, my back and neck stiff with the tense immobility of long, slow driving. The sun shone brief kisses of freedom as I stretched my arms and sauntered toward the house. With a sigh of real relief, I found Diana sitting on our comfortable sofa, looking exceptionally pretty in a white sundress. Tan shoulders drew my weary attention as they emerged seductively naked, offered with a promising turn. My thoughts lightened as I drank in the view of her tempting cleavage and the twist of her lean legs. Her blue eyes shone up toward my appreciative gaze, and as I prepared to bask in her inviting smile, I discovered there was no way to avoid the pensive thoughts which suddenly struggled across my dear wife's face. As I opened Diana's book of soul, I read volumes of uneasy anguish and regret. Something had happened; something unfortunate, at least. I placed my briefcase beside the oak coffee table and my wife quickly enveloped me with a hug. As I held her firm body in my arms, intoxicated by the scent of her feminine charm, I kissed her neck lightly. At once, she pressed her moist lips to mine with an outburst of passion. I kissed her deeply, lovingly, hoping my lips could somehow erase the trouble that had possessed her. I kissed her and instinctively my hands surrounded the round swell of her ass. I realized that a stream of warm tears moistened my cheeks. "I'm sorry, Mark" Diana said softly, "I screwed up." "It's all right," I replied on faith. "What happened?" "I was working on the project for the AIH," she said, stepping back and wiping her tears away, "and I needed a disk. I assumed the program would just save the file, but it reformatted and wrote over..." "No," I said softly, suddenly realizing what she meant. At least twenty hours of work vanished into the aether. Frustration struck me like a torpedo to the hull. "How could you?" "I'm sorry," Diana said, and she began to cry in earnest. "You don't have another copy of the files?" "No. They'll have to be recreated from scratch." Diana collapsed on the sofa in a torrent of tears. Anger raged through me, but I couldn't maintain my fury for more than a few moments in the face of such pitiful remorse. Years have taught me that lamenting the passing of what has passed cannot aid the struggle. Perhaps my stoicism is a little cold, and maybe I would live better to give vent to my wraths, but I am only who I am. I forgave Diana and with a pang of despair I wrote off this weekend and the next. The tragic destruction of my unarchived labor compiled with the strain of the day left me completely drained. We ate dinner in near silence, as Diana looked on for some sign that all would be forgotten, her sad eyes only increasing my despair. I just wanted to go to bed. "I have something special for you for dessert," she said. "I'm not in the mood for treats," I replied more coldly than I wanted to be. "I think this will help. Go sit in the family room, and I'll bring it to you." I poured myself a glass of brandy and turned on some Tchaikovsky, ready to drown myself in self-indulgent emotional turmoil. Diana entered and went to the stereo. "I hope you don't mind," she said coyly, turning on some funk. "Whatever," I said pathetically. "All right, big boy. Look up. The time has come for us to speak of other things. I did something horrible today, but none of this is going to improve by your sorry indulgence in mere mopery. You're a man. You've been wronged. Do something about it. Why don't you punish me, so we can get on with our life?" With that, Diana leaned over to pick up a plate of brownies. I watched the verge of white panties crumpled between her thighs as the hem of the sundress rose. Aware she had my attention, Diana lifted her ass suggestively. Something swelled within me. "Damn right," I said authoritatively and walked over to where Diana stood. She put a piece of brownie into my mouth. "You've been terrible, cruel, wicked." "Very bad," Diana said quietly, trying to muffle a smile. "What you did sucks. I'm barely holding onto my sanity, and now I'm stuck in that friggin office for the rest of the month, without even a single day to kick back and relax. Only hard work is going to fix what you have done to me, and if I'm going to be forced to pay for your stupid mistakes, I'm going to make sure it doesn't happen again. You are not going to forget this." "Yes, sir." she replied coyly. She seemed to be determined to make me angry, and I gave in. I took hold of her arm, gripping her bicep tightly and bent her over the desk. She squirmed slightly in my grasp, but kept her face pressed against the oak surface when I released my hold. I pushed the short skirt up to her waist. Though sensibly enraged, I still paused a moment to admire the vision of a white triangle of thin lace embracing the sphere of her pretty ass. Mad or lusty, for by this time I couldn't say for certain which emotional state prevailed in me, I took hold of the elastic and roughly yanked her panties down to her thighs. Pale tan lines echoed the stripped undergarments, and with that vision my cock hardened. I drank in the sight; a thick mane of golden hair fell above the arched back which dipped and rose to present the globes of her white bottom, centered by the pink button of her asshole and the already swelling folds of her sweet pussy above her long stiff angled legs. "You piss me off," I said as I raised my hand. "Ow," she exclaimed. The red imprint of five fingers shone on her cheek. "I'm going to have to work all fucking weekend" "You ruined everything." Diana brought her hands back in defense, and I furiously pushed them aside, punishing her imprudent denial of my right to spank her with a vehement volley of slaps to her bottom. As I paused to admire her heat-reddened bum, I noticed the thick labia of Diana's golden-pink cunt, dripping with her excitement. "Bitch." I dropped my trousers. Diana looked back cautiously during the interlude, and eager to reaffirm my domination, I spanked her glowing ass hard. Taking a stance directly behind her, I pushed my engorged cock into her steaming pussy. Diana moaned deeply as I penetrated, and I slapped her fiery red ass again. The whole world egged me on as I fucked my beautiful wife hard, without regard for anything but the raging sensation of power and lust, fed by the trembling squeeze of her frothing wet cunt on my prick. I spanked Diana rigorously during the brutal screw, squeezing and pinching the brazen glow as I ploughed the dark depths from behind. Squeals of pleasure mingled with cries of pain, and I felt her exploding orgasm, quivering pulsations of surrender and release as she ground herself wild against my hard rod. I withdrew my organ, and Diana turned to sigh, but I took hold of her blonde mane and set my wet dick between her lips. She swallowed the meat hungrily, taking it deeply down her throat. I didn't care anymore - I couldn't be beaten. Diana reeked of power and beauty, tolerant of no one and nothing, and yet she was eagerly submitting to every indignity, every whim of my exploded maddened mind. I slipped my cock from out of her mouth, and sent a hot stream of white jism into her hair, over her face. I staggered backwards, watching contentedly as Diana licked gobs of semen from her fingers. "I'm sorry," she said with a satisfied smile. I knew she wasn't, but I couldn't remember why. Just Desserts "Shit, shit, shit!" I look down at the ceramic shards lying on the floor. Little bastard just had to slip right out of my fingers. That was his favorite mug. As soon as he finds out I'm really gonna be in for it. I throw the dishcloth down in frustration. I lean on the kitchen sink and look out of the window at the carefully manicured garden, the view ruined by a high brick wall. As I lean a little more forward, I can feel the latex skirt tighten around my ass. Besides the skirt, he has also allowed me to wear a white apron today. He said that he wants it absolutely spotless when he comes home. Have you ever tried to clean a two-story house and not get a single spot of dirt on you? Every one of my movements has been carefully planned and executed. When I was scrubbing the toilet, I did so with my body twisted away so that an errant fleck of filth wouldn't land on the apron. Then there are the heels. Black and sheer, and intentionally a size too small, they had made today's tasks that extra bit uncomfortable. "Just give it until the end of the week." I sigh, turning to fetch the dustpan for the mug, and promptly fall over. Oh yes, I'm also wearing restraints just above my knees. Grabbing on to the countertop, I haul myself up back to my feet. The lock between the leather cuffs gives me less than an inch of movement at my thighs. "So you will learn patience," he had said. I grit my teeth and resist swearing; another lesson I need to learn. I hadn't been to the toilet since breakfast. I texted him earlier, begging to be allowed to relieve myself. His one word answer: "No." By now I knew that to be more than enough of a command. I will have to wait until he gets home. Very carefully, I shuffle off to complete the rest of the day's chores: fresh Egyptian cotton bedding for the main bedroom (where I wasn't allowed to sleep yet), polish for the dining room table (where I wasn't allowed to eat yet), vacuum the lounge (where I wasn't allowed to sit yet), lay out some alcohol for when he comes home (that I'm not allowed to drink yet). After a while I fall into a semi-trance, trying to distract myself from the building pressure in my bladder. I think about my life before all of this. "Sarah the temp" they had called me at the office. I had six months of sending faxes, sealing envelopes, photocopying monthly reports and other bullshit, and they still called me "the temp" most the time. I lived in a small gray bedsit in Croydon, the only part of London I ever really knew. I wonder what it was that drew me into trawling through those online personals. But I guess I always knew at some level. Back in primary school I loved it when the boys pulled my hair, or stuck their wet fingers into my ears, or wiped boogers on my sleeve. Oh, I squealed like the other girls, but it gave me this tiny tingle in my spine that slowly grew over the years. I snap out of my day-dreaming and look at the clock. It's 5:05 pm. Shit! Three hours? It had taken me three hours for those few chores? I can't hop, not in these heels. I have to get to the front door as quickly as I can. I grab the bannister and freeze for a moment. The fucking stairs! I fall to my knees, grimacing against the flesh that had been bruised last night. I crawl down the steps, pulling with my arms and dragging my feet up. I eventually make it to the entrance hall. Through the frosted glass window I see his silhouette, his key clicks into the door. Just as it swings open, I fall into the prescribed bow. My forehead touches the carpet, my arms lie flat out in front of me, ass up and ready for inspection. Sweat runs down my neck, over my face, and drips to the carpet. My breathing is heavy, and I feel my face flush. The cool outside air blows in and kisses my cheeks. The door shuts, and he sticks his shoe in front of my face. My ass twitches at the memory of the beating I received when I first refused this. I slide my tongue over the dusty leather, making sure to cover every square inch, and give a soft moan of pleasure, hoping it pleases him. He swaps his feet and I polish it with the same feigned enthusiasm. His heavy footfalls circle around me. There is a jangle of keys and my knees are unlocked. His fingers dig into my thighs as he peels the latex dress up over my ass. "Spread you knees." His voice is cool and calm. No hint of excitement or approval. I spread my knees. My asshole twitches as he rubs in the cool lubricant. I take a deep breath as he pushes the butt plug in. It's bigger than yesterday's. There's a short sharp pain, and then finally it sinks into position. A drip of piss escapes and runs down my leg. "Please Sir," I whimper, "May this cum-whore go to the bathroom?" He doesn't answer at first. He takes his time in securing the butt plug's straps around my hips and thighs. He pulls the skirt back down. "No. Go to your position." I bite my lip and crawl to the lounge, stopping in front of his chair. After a few minutes, he comes in and reclines in his seat, resting his feet on my back. The stereo starts up, and Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata gently fills the room. I'm not allowed to turn my head, but I'm sure he is sipping the whiskey I had prepared for him earlier. I hold stock-still at first, his piece of furniture, but soon I blink away tears, and I swear my thighs are shaking from the effort it takes to not piss myself right now. After what feels like an eternity, the melody finally winds down. "You may go to the bathroom." I start to stand up, "No, crawl." I take a long, deep breath to keep calm, "Yes sir," and go back down to my knees. The bathroom offers a short reprieve but no privacy. I'm not allowed to close the door. I rest my face in my hands as relief shudders up my body, such a simple relief, but it's one of the sweetest things I've ever felt. "Just give it until the end of the week." I say it again quietly. It is what we had agreed to. We had met at a fancy restaurant in the West End, in a private booth with a curtain. I had arrived anticipating a date. It turned out to be an interview. He wore a fitted pin-stripe suit, as he did nearly every day. His black hair and stubble was salted with white hairs, although he wasn't much older than forty. He was lithe and toned, although I had seen stronger men at my gym. Nonetheless, there was an air about him, some way that he kept his posture, some way that he moved with self-certainty, some way he always looked at you with cool appraisal that left you feeling as naked as a newborn babe. After a few minutes of courteous small-talk, he turned to a long series of brief questions. I had lost track of how many times I blushed at them. They covered the gamut of sexual and personal experience: everything from anal sex to drugs to debt to disease to allergies. He seemed a little disappointed by the end of it. "You seem eager, but horribly inexperienced." A phrase I heard all too often when trying to find a job, but I think he saw a look of disappointment in my face that led to him give me one piteous offer. "I may be too, let's say draconian, for your first time. So this is my offer: a one week trial period. If either of us are unhappy at the end of it, we part ways." So that was it, I just had to endure it for one week. He gave me a safe-word. A single utterance that would terminate the trial, and we'd immediately part ways. I vowed to myself that I would not use it, no matter what. I had caved so easily in the past: from math in school, to a data-entry job I had found too stressful. This is going to be one damn thing that I can say I had the strength to see through to the end. It is day four, and in the first three days...well, pain has never burnt through my body like it did then. Nobody could accuse him of being lenient. The skin on my ass bled at the end of the first day. On day two, he opened the cuts up again with his cane. I'll be scarred there now, I have no doubt. I screamed and I cried and I begged. I didn't use the safe-word. Besides, I had deserved each slap, each pinch, each caning, each shock, each vulgarity-sown insult: I had broken a rule, or ignored a command. His methods are barbarically harsh, but effective. On day three I did everything right, so that night he added to the rules and commands he had given me on my first day. At the end of the new list he simply said, "Good girl." I felt something odd then, something welling in my chest. To my surprise it was pride. An odd thing to feel while I was bowed down before his feet. "Slave! Present!" The harsh bark of his voice snaps me to attention like a reveille. I quickly finish with the bathroom and crawl to where I heard his voice coming from. I realize it's coming from the kitchen. I make my way over the hard tiles and present myself: kneeling, back straight, eyes down, and hands resting on my knees with my palms facing upwards. The ceramic handle of his mug hung in front of my face. "Forgive me, Master. It slipped, it-" I stumble over my words, my mind is only screaming one thing: Please not my ass, oh please do not cane me on my ass again. "Quiet." I shut my mouth. His voice is icy. "That mug was gift from a friend. You have cost me slave, and you are going to pay for it." I stay dead still, but I can't help imagining what he is going to do to me. If he whips me again the scabs are going to break open and bleed. The thought makes me feel cold. A tear starts to well up in my left eye. I know better than to splutter out a few useless words begging forgiveness. "Crawl to the corner, put your head to the floor and you will remain there." I go where he points, a tight, dim corner of the kitchen. I place my head to the cold tiles and wait, curled tight, hands clasped behind my back. I wait. Other than the ticking of a clock, the house is silent. I haven't even heard his footsteps since he left me here. I don't know what time it is anymore. If I were to guess by how sleepy I'm feeling, I'd wager it's about midnight. A few hours ago I thought about shifting from my position, straighten my back or something. No sooner had the thought occurred to me than the utter terror that he might be watching somehow. I'd made a similar mistake on the first day. I thought my tits were going to fall off by the time he had finished punishing me. At last I hear the heavy falls of his feet. His fist grips into the back of my collar, his knuckles forcing my throat against the leather. Pressure builds in my head, and with the incredible strength he has at his command, he drags me out of the corner. I don't dare let my hands move from behind my back. His grip is iron. The only way to get any relief from the pressure is to move exactly with him: too high to crawl, too low to walk. Whenever I think I can get a comfortable footing his hand jerks me to a new level and I have to try to recover my balance again. He's taking me to the chamber. The chamber is a cold room. It had racks and cabinets fully stocked with every imaginable device of torture and pleasure you can think of. It is one of my duties to keep all of them clean and orderly, ready for his use. On the first day my nose wrinkled as I scrubbed the filthy butt-plug. Right now I'd happily clean a thousand of them with my tongue if it meant he wouldn't hit my ass. I will not use the safe-word. He had told me before that the chamber was sound-proof, so I could scream as much as I wanted here. I think I grasped on to that one little freedom for all it was worth. I will not use the safe-word. Once we are inside, and the door is sealed and locked, he finally lets go of the collar. I collapse to my knees, stars just starting to explode in my vision. He walked calmly to the middle of the room, next to a high leather-covered bench. There are other tools for restraint in the chamber as well: a wide assortment of chains and manacles along the walls, a square iron frame, a crucifix, and something that looked like the roof of a dog house. "Fetch the cane." I feel myself shudder at his words. Fighting back tears, I crawl over to where the cane rested. It's wicked thing, hard and just so slightly knobbly. Upon a cabinet, it rested on a bed of purple velvet in a mahogany case. I stand up to pick it up, almost reverently, but quickly go back to my knees. I place the cane gently between my teeth and crawl to Master. When I reach his feet I take it out of my mouth, and offer it up to him in both hands, my head slightly bowed. A moment passes and nothing happens. Had he changed his mind? Oh please, oh please, oh please! As he takes the cane from my hands, I feel my ass quiver a little. Suddenly he grabs me by the collar again. He throws me over the bench. I hardly start to straighten when his hand clamps down on the back of my head and forces it down to the floor. My butt rounds up towards the ceiling. My wrists and ankles are quickly bound to the bench's legs. My tight latex skirt is skillfully whipped off my hips. He walks around, positioning behind. The butt-plug's straps detach, and I give a sigh as the plug itself is slowly teased out of my asshole. There is now silence. I will not use the safe-word. OH HOLY GOD! The whistle-crack of the cane drowns out to the white noise of the pain across my wounded ass. I take deep gulping breaths. They're supposed to be controlled and deep to help manage it, I know, but FUCKING SHIT! I can barely keep my own thoughts together right OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD! I can feel wetness drip down my butt and down my hamstrings MOTHERFUCKER! CUNT! I'm bleeding I'm bleeding I'm bleeding, damn it he's going to rub on antiseptic and that bur- FUCK FUCK FUCK! OH JESUS! I can't swear aloud, if I do he starts from one again. What, what number is- RRRRGH! FUCK! I'm crying. It's okay, I'm allowed to cry, I'm allowed to scream, but don't swear aloud whatever- YOU MOTHERFUCKER! BASTARD! I won't say the safe-word, I won't say the safe-word. Shit what was it? Blue- HOT SHIT! FUCK FUCK FUCK! "Eight." He finally says, calm as all hell. My throat hurts from screaming. Tears have smeared my mascara all over my face. Blood drips from my skin. I'm just a blubbering idiot. It's over. I try to tell myself "just one more week of this", but I don't know. I really don't know. "Come up on your toes." I reluctantly do so, "I've placed pins under your heels. Do not let them drop." As he walks around to my front, I drop a heel slightly to test it. They lightly brush what I guess is a set of drawing pins. I can't knock them over, they're attached to something. He releases my wrist restraints from their grounding in the floor so that they can slide up the bench, but not away. I hear a zipping being undone. Bunching my hair in his big hands, he pulls my head up to his groin. His fat cock is already a rock hard pole. Aqueducts of blue veins throb with his pulse, running the course of the intimidating organ. He feeds it into my mouth, I can taste the salt of tears and mucus as they drip from my lip, marinating my meal. I have to open my jaws as wide as they can go to accommodate him. He is a gifted man. I swear I can feel the tip tickling the back of my throat on each thrust. I gag and try to cough it out, he just thrusts in harder. I know this isn't for his pleasure not really. He likes the tip of the tongue to gently caress, to dig into the tip, to feel my hot breath over his skin. But this is still my punishment. The increasingly severe burn in my calves reminds of that in one moment, and the horrible rod rammed into my gullet the next. This is his hole he using, I may not ever complain about it. He is done fucking my mouth. He pulls it out as I cough up spit, mucus, and whatever juices he spilled into my throat. The slap knocks me off balance. It's so unexpected my right calf failed and dips onto the pins, piercing into my foot. It shoots up immediately, my muscles twitching at the effort. He marches around behind me, and without ceremony, crams his cock into my asshole. It's aching from the days of training with butt-plugs. The only lubrication the spit and a few drops of blood that hadn't dried yet. Once it's all crammed in, it feels like my bowels are going to burst. I grit my teeth and with my hoarse voice, scream with what I can summon from my lungs. I will not use the safe-word! He's fucking me like I'm a side of pork. I can't see him, but somehow his foot is pressed down into my back as he plumbs the depths of my hole. My screams, my begging, they do nothing to slow his rhythm or his force. He is very fit, and can keep this up for an impressively long time. At some point he had kicked the pins away, and I can finally rest my claves. By now my voice is just too sore to scream anymore, I'm giving some croaky grunts and whimpers in time to the clapping of my tits as they dangle, slapping together like a slow applause to his thrusting. My cunt is dripping wet. Its juices have formed rivulets down my thighs. He's still fucking my asshole, even though it had turned into a white-hot agony ages ago. There's a click and a buzz behind me. The vibrator presses up against my clit, and every pent-up sensation shatters through my body at once. Had I not been bound to the bench, my legs would have collapsed under me. I won't cum yet, I haven't been given permission. I am his meat, and so bound by his rules. I bite down on my lip, actually trying to focus on my burning asshole instead of the buzzing on my clit. I give a whimper under its power. "Do you want to cum, you filthy little fuck-rag?" He barks. His breathing is ragged from effort now, but he has not slowed down in the least. He is a machine, pumping hard and fast at an impossibly exact rate. "Yes sir. Please sir, this worthless whore begs you to let her cum." "Do you deserve it?" I give a strangled cry, "No sir. This piece of shit does not deserve the pleasure. But she begs you to allow her. She will do anything you ask!" "You are my slave." A thrust in the ass, even harder than all of those before, "What can you give me that I cannot freely take?" "Nothing, Master." I give up another sob, "This whore have given you everything she has, everything she is." Something in his voice sounds satisfied, "You will cum in five, four, three," I open my mouth and give a groan that would shake windows, if the chamber had any, "Wait! Two...one." He has trained me well in so little time. Precisely on cue I buck and thrash against the bench, clench my teeth, arch my back, every muscle, every fiber flooded with an electric jolt of sensation. My cunt sprays out its contents, mingling with all the other liquids pooling at my feet. It was a moment of ecstasy so sublime I feel ashamed for trying to put it into words. There are tears in my eyes again, but not from the pain of the caning, or the burn of the ass fucking, but of simple, undiluted pleasure. His thrusting stops, the vibrator is pulled away and switched off. I hang completely on the bench. The restraints are undone, he shoves me off, and I'm just too spent to keep up. I collapse over to my side, breathing in weird little hiccups and my inner thighs still spasm in pleasure. He kneels down beside me, and has me clean off his cock with my mouth. I feel so dazed that I hardly mind the smell. Once it's clean, he stuffs it back in his pants. He still hasn't had an orgasm yet. He'll probably make use of my holes again later tonight. I curl up a little, trying to get control of my breathing. Maybe...maybe I'll give this another week. Just Desserts My contribution to the Valentine's Day Contest. Thanks for reading and voting. I look forward to comments. * The waiter came around again and I ordered another bottle of wine. I'd regret it in the morning, but I needed a couple more drinks. "Did he ever call you," Susan asked, looking over her tortoise shell glasses. Susan is old enough to be my mother, but she's my best friend in the world. I can talk about anything with her. "Maybe, I don't remember. I blocked his calls, sent them to voice mail." "Well, maybe he had an ..." "Susan, we've talked about it. I'm over him, its fine. I'm a big girl, these things happen." The 'thing" that happened was that my boyfriend, Marc, came home one night smelling of cheap perfume and a little too much testosterone. I asked a few too many questions for his liking and he stormed out and did not come back. According to a friend, within a week he had hooked up with someone at his office and made quite the scene at the office Christmas Party. "Well, then, maybe a New year's resolution, about a new relationship." Susan has been married four times, "always for love" as she tells me. Now, it's just hormones and pleasure. That doesn't stop her from scheming to get me hooked up with someone. "If it happens, it will," I said as we started to drink the second bottle of Syrah. Susan and I continued to drink and laugh and talk until we started getting dirty looks from the wait staff wanting to close the place down. I signed the check, left a nice tip and we strolled out of the restaurant, both rather tipsy, arm and arm and laughing like we had just heard the best joke of our lives. I hugged her and we got into cabs driving in opposite directions. Thank goodness I didn't drive, because when I got to the door of my building, I had trouble unlocking it. I tried one key after another, cursing and muttering under my breath with each failed attempt. I straightened out the keys again, and started to systematically go through them, one after another trying to open the door to no avail. "Having trouble?" a deep voice called out from behind me, startling me. I swear I jumped in the air when I heard him. I turned quickly to see an older man walking toward me. "Stay away from me," I said, reaching into my pocket trying to find my pepper spray. "Whoa! I live here. You can go in, and I'll wait," he said, holding his hands up as if stopping traffic. He stepped back. He kept his hands up in the air. I stood there for a minute, pepper spray in my extended hand. Across the sidewalk there was an old guy with his arms up in the air. If someone saw us, it looked like I was robbing him. "You live here?" I asked, somewhat ashamed at my actions. You can't be too careful when you're a woman travelling alone. "Third floor, Apartment 6," he said quickly, arms still in the air. I put the pepper spray down. "Sixth floor, apartment 3," I said. "I can't get the key to work." "I know, I've told the manager, ignores me because I'm an old fart," he said. I noticed he carefully got out his key, holding it in the air as if it were a dead rodent, waved it to me to prove he had a key, and offered to open the door. I stepped aside, the pepper spray still in my hand, and he stepped forward, inserted the key, twisted and kicked the door until it opened. "After you." He stepped aside and held the door for me. "Sorry." "About what?" "Being a wuss about a stranger." "I warn my daughter all of the time about strangers, and she's probably your age, 35. Can't be too careful with all the crazies out there." I walked past him to the elevator and punched the button. I live in an old building; it has charm, character, and slow elevators. The stairs are quicker, but it was nearly midnight and after a bottle of wine, I was not in shape to walk six flights of stairs. The elevator arrived, the doors opened and we entered. We introduced ourselves and made small talk as the elevator lurched and lunged up the cable. James had been in the building seven months, had a two bedroom apartment, and worked for the state in the downtown office. He was tall and thin with a navy watch cap pulled down above his eyes. He had green eyes that sparkled when he talked. We stopped at the third floor, he said good night, and walked down the hall. I had been drunk when I had gotten home and the scare at the door had woken me up. I was still drunk, just wide awake. I hung my coat, got undressed and got ready for bed. I slipped between the sheets under my electric blanket and just savored the decadent feeling of the crisp warm bed and felt my body relax. I read for a few minutes and then turned off the light and closed my eyes. Thirty minutes later, I was still awake, my brain partly fogged by the waning alcohol bathing my cerebrum cortex but wide awake. I turned and changed position, thought boring thoughts, and just tried to will myself asleep. Nothing worked. Time for Plan B. Sometimes, I just need a good orgasm to take the edge off a difficult night, and I thought it was one of those times. I reached into my night side stand and removed my vibrator. It's ancient, a plug in model that is powerful and durable. No foreplay for me; I closed my eyes, turned it on and put it on my clit. My brain had been revved up to start, and the immediate sensation of the vibrating nub on my clit jump started me. My pussy immediately started to tingle and quickly escalated to an ache that just gnawed at me. I touched my nipple and rolled it between my fingers. The buzz at my pussy coupled with the nice sensation in my nipple felt great. I think the alcohol altered the sensations, but I got a warm feeling deep in my cunt that spread like molten heat into my legs and down my feet and a warm flush rushed over my chest. I held my breath for a moment, savoring the feeling and then let out the air and felt my body relax into the bed. I thought about an encore, but decided to save it for later. I turned off the vibrator, dropped at the side of the bed and quickly fell asleep. The next day was a killer. I vowed never to drink during the work week. I popped vitamins, drank flavored waters, and even resorted to an over the counter hang over cure. I was glad when five o'clock rolled around. I strolled in my building to find a sign on the elevator announcing a renter's meeting at 6:30. We didn't have a tenant's group and we had never had a meeting before. I went to my apartment and I really wanted to crawl in bed. Instead, I changed clothes and went to the exercise room and worked out hoping to expel whatever alcohol was left in me. A quick shower afterwards and I was trying to decide on how to spend the evening. Surprising myself, I went to the tenant's meeting in the lobby. I was the third person to arrive. I recognized the other people from the elevator or the workout room, although I didn't know their names. Finally, at 6:30 James showed up with a stack of folders. Immediately, he was like a politician working the room, thanking us for attending and handing out the folders. It was clear that James had organized the meeting for the tenants. He outlined a list of requests that he thought we should make of the managers, everything from a cleaner lobby to a better elevator to more security around the building. People drifted in and out of the meeting, he always thanked people for coming to the meeting. At the end of it, he had a generous, but polite, list of requests and nearly twenty signatures on the petition. He had also started an email list. Somehow, at the end of the meeting, it was just the two of us left in the lobby. I picked up a few of the stray information sheets and handed them to James. "I didn't hear about this meeting until tonight," I said as I handed him the sheets. "Didn't plan it until this morning," he said, a smile broke on his lips. "That's a lot of work. I'm impressed." "Hey, I'm a bureaucrat. Despite the public image, we can make things happen in a hurry." He looked at his watch and looked puzzled. It was nearly eight o'clock; it hadn't felt like the meeting had lasted an hour and a half. He told me that there was a new Ethiopian restaurant a couple of blocks away and wanted to know if I wanted to join him for dinner. I must have made a face to his suggestion. "Sorry, didn't mean to impose, you've got plans for the evening." He finished collecting the folders and set them on shelf near the mailboxes. No, I don't have any plans. It's just. Well, I don't think I've ever eaten Ethiopian food before." "Well, if you're interested, I'd love to have you join me, I hear it's pretty good, but there's only one way to find out," he said as he pulled the cap onto his head. It was a cold night, and we were both dressed in winter coats, hats and gloves, and sort of bumped off each other as we walked down the street. Ten minutes later we were at the restaurant and James looked in the window. "Not a bad crowd, pretty good sign. Shall we?" he asked as he held the door open for me. The bouquet of fragrances that embraced us as we entered the restaurant was intoxicating. It smelled of cardamom and garlic and probable peppers. It was warm and the room was welcoming. A middle aged woman with skin the color of milk chocolate led us to a low table and pillows on the floor. "No, I have definitely not eaten in an Ethiopian restaurant," I said, looking around the room. "Are you okay with it?" "Absolutely. I need an adventure!" The woman returned a few minutes later and James did the ordering. The woman returned with water and two smaller glasses of a golden liquid, James told me it was Tej, or honey wine. "Here's to neighbors," he said and gently clinked my glass. The wine was strong and slightly sweet. After a few sips, I think I had a buzz, but it was pleasant. The woman brought a huge platter to the table. It was covered with what looked like a foam mat, but it was fermented bread, called injera. On top of it were piles of food. She rattled off the list of foods, James nodded his head, asked questions, and she was gone. I looked around the table. "We need utensils." "You eat with your hands," James said, a smile spread across his lips. I know I must have looked puzzled, because the whole process suddenly seemed very complex. "Like this," he said. He took a piece of the injera in his right hand and grabbed a bit of collard greens, wrapped the bread around it, and before I realized what was happening, he fed me the bite. The flavors of the collards and garlic and butter and peppers filled my mouth and it was delicious. And my head spun with the incredibly intimate act of having someone feed me. As an adult I've had lovers feed me or I have fed them, but often in the context of romantic intimacy. This act caught me off guard. I was quiet for a moment, trying to judge the act and quickly realized it was simply a gesture, he showed me how to eat the food rather than tell me. We had a wonderful time, sampling the various vegetables on the platter, trying to guess the spices, picking a favorite dish, and then revising it when we got to the next one. We laughed and joked throughout the meal. We feasted on the platter and then found room for dessert and the strongest coffee I had ever had. I limited myself to a half a cup, but James drank his and finished mine. We took the long way home; it was an extra couple of blocks, to walk off some of the dinner. When we got to the apartment, I got out my keys and opened the door. "I'm impressed," James said with a smile. "Snot," I said and punched him in the arm. He gathered up the folders that he had left downstairs and we rode the elevator up to the third floor just as we had nearly a day earlier. The door opened on his floor. "I had a great time," James said, as he started to step off the elevator. "Thanks for joining me." I'm not sure what made me do it, but I stepped forward and gave him a hug. It wasn't a gushy girl hug, and it wasn't a 'one of the guys' hug. But after the evening, I just felt a need to touch him. He nodded and walked down the hall to his apartment. I got in bed and thought about the evening until I fell asleep. I went to my Pilates class the next morning with Susan. After the class, we went to a coffee house for lunch, and eventually I got around to dinner. Susan is a lawyer, and she is a great listener. She didn't say anything while I talked, and eventually, I realized I had talked nearly twenty minutes non-stop about dinner with James. "Sweetie, we've known each other a long time, and I've never heard you talk about a date with anyone like you just did." "It wasn't a date," I said. "Trust me, it was a date. And it knocked your socks off." Before I thought, I blurted out "But he's sixty two year old." She looked at me and frowned. "And how old am I?" I shook my head and laughed. "Age is just a number, a marker for our time on the earth. It's what you do and who you're with that matter." James and I would bump into each other in the building over the next couple of weeks. We'd stop, talk about something going on in the neighborhood, or his tenant's group and then we'd go our separate ways. The conversations were easy and comfortable, but at the same time I enjoyed seeing him and talking to him. I thought about what Susan had said and decided to be bold. "I know you're probably busy Friday, but there is a gallery opening down the street and was wondering if you'd like to go with me." I felt silly as soon as the words got out of my mouth. James knew immediately the show I was talking about and excitedly described the artist and his work. I was just trying to see if we could hang out together and he knew the artist's work from the early days. "It's a date," he said as he gave me a hug before leaving the apartment building. I was like a teenager for the next five days, waiting for Friday night to arrive, excited about the night and equally anxious. The night of the show, I hurried home from work and changed clothes three times before settling on a cute blouse and a mid-calf length skirt. The knock at the door caught me off guard. "Wow, look at you," James gushed as he walked into the apartment. "They'll see us, and wonder why you brought the janitor to the show." He was casually dressed in jeans and a turtle neck and a winter coat. I considered changing again, but told him I thought he looked like an art critic and grabbed my coat. We had a nice walk to the gallery and I had a great time looking at the art. It was a personal tour, because James knew of the artist and his work, and was able to explain the paintings and techniques used by the artist. I stepped back from him. "How does a government bureaucrat know all of this stuff?" "Well, before I was a humble state employee, I was an artist, and had a degree in art history, and ran a couple of galleries." He continued to show me the work and continued the tour. A couple of times I could see others there leaning in while he explained why a painting was good from a composition or technique perspective. He suddenly looked at his watch and started putting on his coat. "Do you change into a pumpkin at eight o'clock?" "No, but if we hurry, there is another opening down the street that should be fabulous." He grabbed me by the hand and led me like a parent pulling a child through a crowded store. His hand was large and strong and I clasped it firmly while I walked quickly to keep up with him. We got outside and instead of dropping my hand, he kept it in his and I held it. We got to the other gallery and entered it. There was still a large crowd. We got a couple of glasses of wine and wandered around looking at the large pieces of surrealistic acrylic paintings. The subject matter varied from common animals like storks and peacocks to bulls in party hats. The paintings at the first gallery had been impressionistic landscapes and now we were thrown into a turbulent world. James was equally comfortable describing and analyzing these paintings as he had done with the other ones. The energy at the second show was greater and we spent a couple of hours there looking at the various pieces. It was nearly ten o'clock when we walked out into the cold winter air. We had drunk cheap wine and had a few snacks but we realized we were still hungry. I knew of a Mexican cantina that was open late and we walked there and had a great meal of quesadilla and tacos and a pitcher of Sangria and we walked home happy and full. We rode up in the elevator standing next to each other, an uncomfortable silence as the lift carried us to the third floor. The door opened and James looked at me. "I had a great time! Thanks for inviting me," he said as he kissed me on the cheek. I felt foolish as I stood there, my eyes closed, and he stepped off the elevator. I got to my apartment and threw my coat and purse on the sofa and stomped around as I got ready for bed. I was frustrated and angry. Frustrated because I felt something with James that night and angry because I acted passively. The hand holding, and the discussion and dinner really got me excited. It had been a while since I had been with a guy, and the thought of cuddling on the couch and talking into the night. Instead, I got into bed and drifted off to sleep by myself. The next week James had organized another tenant's meeting and I stayed through until the end of it. He now had nearly half the building signed onto a petition and an email list of virtually everyone in the building. "You've done a great job," I said as I picked up the rest of the folders and handed them to him. He thanked me. "Look, I'm going to be very direct and to the point," I said. He stood up tall and looked at me warily. "Next week is Valentine's Day and I was," and this is where I lost some of my cool directness, "I was wondering if you'd like to come to my place for dinner?" "Just the two of us?" That's the general idea. Unless, you know, you're secretly married. Or gay. You're a serial killer. Wanted for embezzlement in three states. Or you've already got a girlfriend somewhere." "Nope. No way. Abhor violence. Financially comfortable, don't need more money. No girlfriends. So, no to all of them." "So?" "Sounds like a date," he said. "What should I bring?" "An appetite." I leaned in and kissed him on the cheek and walked away. I had tried to maintain my cool, but I was a wreck on the inside. I agonized over dinner for the next week, and I changed the recipe nearly fifty times. I altered the appetizer and entrée and dessert repeatedly, crossing through my shopping list so many times that I went through an entire pad of legal paper. After struggling with the menu, I finally had it organized on Valentine's morning. Then, I had to decide what to wear for the evening. Girls going to prom have less confusion about dressing than I did. I tried on a variety of outfits, mixed and matched for nearly an hour, and was utterly exhausted when I finally got dressed. I had just finished my makeup when there was a knock on the door. I walked to the door, but my heart racing. James stood in the doorway with a single rose in one hand, a bottle of wine in the other, and a pot of tulips balanced between the two. I don't know how he knocked on the door. I had only seen him in jeans and turtle necks and sweaters and often covered up in heavy winter coats. He was dressed in a stylish black suit with narrow lapels, crisp white shirt and a red tie. For the first time he was wearing glasses and looked like a college professor. An absolutely drop dead gorgeous college professor. "Good evening, Julia," he said, somewhat formally. "I've brought you the traditional dead flower in honor of Valentine's Day," he said as he handed me the rose. "An excellent, hand selected, Pinot Noir, great rating, and I can't wait to share it with you." I took the wine. "And a future bouquet of tulips to help remember the night for a while." Just Desserts I put the rose in a vase while James opened the wine. He poured two glasses while I got out the appetizers. I'm a pretty good cook, but I was still nervous about what I had prepared. James knew wines, and food and my nervousness disappeared when he face beamed into a smile as he tasted my sun dried tomato and goat cheese soufflé appetizer for the first time. "This is absolutely delicious," he said. We talked for a while, about ourselves and our lives. Our interactions in the past were superficial and light and we enjoyed each other's company. I got up to clear the table and James stood up too. He followed me to the kitchen, stood behind me, and wrapped his arms around me. I turned within his embrace and stared into his eyes. He leaned over and kissed me. His lips were soft and his beard bristled against me as his tongue parted my lips and searched my mouth. It was a sensual, probing kiss that sent a shiver through my chest. I kissed back, pulling him against me, my hands dropped to his ass and squeezed and I kissed him back. Hard, urgent, needy. He grabbed my ass and pulled me tighter to him; I moved slightly and ground against his thigh. My breathing got harder and faster as we kissed, my hands went to his torso, kneading him through his shirt, and somehow he slipped his hands under my skirt and I felt his hands on my naked ass. It was divine. "This way," I said, barely able to get the two words out. I grabbed him by the hand and lead him to the bedroom. "What about dinner?" he asked as we entered my bedroom. I turned, angry that he was more concerned about food, when I saw him laughing with his comment. "I'm going to eat you up until you beg me to stop," he said as he turned me and lifted me into the air. He carried me to the bed and sat me on the edge. James knelt between my spread legs and quickly unbuttoned my blouse and then grabbed my breasts through my bra. His fingers managed to flick against my nipples as he kissed my neck and my chest. My bra was off and he squeezed my breasts, flicking my nipples as he kissed me. The sensation was a hard ache that started there and spread to my cunt, I wanted all of him, and my brain was having difficulty process the sensations and my raw lust of the moment. He pushed me back on the bed, my chest naked, and he kissed my belly and moved to my pussy. He lifted my skirt, exposing my red sheer lace thong. "I wondered why you weren't wearing read," he said as he kissed my pussy through the material. "You sexy thing, making me have to hunt for it." He put his finger in his mouth, wet it, and then slid it slowly along my lips until finding my hole and slipped it into me. I moaned like an animal, savoring the sensation of his finger in me, sliding it in and out, and pushing against my G spot. He reached out with his tongue, finding my clit, slowly flicking it against my clit, sending sparks into my cunt, and filling my belly with an intense warmth. I grabbed his head, pulling him harder against me, arching my pelvis up into the air, trying to move to have his tongue rub and thrust against my clit. He kept his finger in me, rubbing against my G spot, sliding back and forth as he licked and nipped at my clit. The sensation was wonderful, I was on a crest of cumming, and then he would change slightly, I would slide down again until he started a new, frustrating me. "Right there! Right there!" I said, pulling his head hard against me, raising my ass off the bed. The intense sensation reignited at my clit and spread like hot water from there into my cunt and then flashed up into my chest, an intense orgasm that made me gasp three times as each wave washed over me. He continued to lick hard and I finally had to push him away because the sensation was just too intense. I sat up, he remained between my knees, and I leaned forward and kissed him, tasting myself on his tongue and lips and chin. I licked him, savoring the taste of myself and then kissed him gently on the lips. "You know how to show a girl a good time." "Just starting," he said as he kissed me back. James pushed me back on the bed and then directed me to roll over on my belly. He got me on my hands and knees and nipped at my ass cheeks with soft bites. He spread my ass cheeks and slid his tongue down from my asshole to my clit and then back to my asshole... He stayed there for a few moments, flicking his tongue back and forth across my puckered hole. I had never had anyone ever do that before, and the sensation was intense. I felt myself tighten and relax as he licked me there. He slid his finger in me again, this time sliding in and out as he licked my asshole. I dropped my chest to the bed, exposing myself more to his finger and tongue, savoring the sensations as he stroked and licked me. I moaned into my arm, I wanted to scream because it felt so good, and I felt his tongue gently try to push into my asshole. I felt my juices flow as a wave of warmth filled my cunt and ass and spread down my legs like an electric shock, taking away my breath for the second time in just a few minutes. I rolled over on my back and tried to sit up. I felt weak and lightheaded and James helped me sit. I looked at him with a silly "I just came really hard" look. I kissed him. "Stand up," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. I undid his belt and dropped his pants. I tugged at his red boxers, releasing his cock. "Seems like everyone wore red today," I said as I grabbed his cock in my hand. I took him in my mouth, savoring him, swirling my tongue around his head as I moved back and forth, and taking him deeper with each thrust. I cupped his balls in my hand as he slid back and forth, across my lips, against my tongue, covering him with my spit with each thrust. His hands were at his side, partially clenched in fists as I slid him in and out of my mouth. His cock was wet with my spit when I took him out of my mouth and slowly started jerking him. "Does that feel good, James? Does it?" He moaned, his eyes closed. "Do you know what I want, James? I want you to cum. I want you to shoot your load of cum on my face, on my lips, on my tongue, into my mouth. That's what I want James. Can you do that for me? Can you give me your load of cum? Can you fill my little mouth with your cum? Will you do that for me? Please." I spit on him, my hand sliding up and down his shaft, my hand sliding past his head with each stroke, rubbing hard against the head, his body giving a subtle jerk each time I did this. His moaning changed. Before, it was one of pleasure. It changed to deeper in his throat, a more urgent feel to the quality of the sound. "That's it, baby, you're going to come, aren't you. You're going to give me a load of you cum. Right on my lips. Right on my tongue." I started stroking him faster while my left fingers brushed against his balls. His cock surged in size and he grabbed my head, holding me on his cock as he started to pulse and spasm and filled my mouth with his thick salty cum. He moaned loudly and his hands dropped to his side as his cock jerked in my mouth, sending a few last spurts into my mouth. I swallowed all of it, savoring the flavor. I stood and wrapped my arms around him and he leaned over and kissed me, my juice on his face, his cum on my lips, and enjoyed the flavors. "What's a guy got to do to get dinner," he said. We both laughed. Part of me wishes I had a picture of us eating dinner that night. We were dressed, rumpled and disheveled, and probably with silly "I just got laid" grins on our faces. We continued the conversation where we had stopped before our interlude. We talked about food and wine, art and music, his career and mine. We never mentioned what we had just done in the other room. The dinner was great. My balsamic vinaigrette was the best I had ever made. The fettuccine Alfredo was fabulous. And then we were ready for dessert. I removed the chocolate lava cakes from the oven and I was amazed that they turned out perfectly. Something was in the air, and it obviously improved my cooking skills. I stood to clear the table but walked toward James instead. "I can't stand this anymore," I said, giving him a stern look. "What's wrong?" a real look of concern crossed his face. "I need you to fuck me right now." "Sweetie, I got some bad news for you." I looked back at him. "I'm an old guy. It takes a while to recharge the equipment." "Says who? "Biology." "Fuck biology. Well, you got yourself a young girl here, and I'm impatient. We'll just need to change the biology rule a little." It was my turn to take the lead. I pulled off his coat, then tie and finally shirt. I undid his belt again, dropped his pants, made him sit down, and I tugged off his shoes, socks and pants. He was completely naked on the chair. I stared at him and removed my blouse, bra, and skirt. I stood in front of him in my thong and thigh high hose. I lead him to the couch and sat down and moved him in front of me. His cock was conveniently at mouth level. I spit on my hand and smeared it on his cock. I slowly started to stroke him and looked up in his eyes as I stroked. "Let me tell you what is going to happen here. I'm going to keep stroking your cock until I get it nice and hard. I will do anything, and I mean anything I need to do to get you hard again. And then do you know what is going to happen?" He cock was starting to harden in my hand; I could feel the blood slowly start to fill it. He looked down into my face. "Then you are going to take the hard cock and slip it into my cunt. My cunt, the one you just finger fucked. My tight little hole, all wet from you eating me and fingering me and licking my ass. And you are going to fuck my cunt until you fill it with cum. Do you understand?" His cock was hard again, and I kept my hand on him. I lay back on the couch and spread my legs and he climbed on top of me. I took him and slid him up and down against my lips, rubbing him against my lips. James had been aggressive but fairly quiet, except when at the dining room table. He got a big grin as he knelt over me. "Is this what you want, Sweetie. You pretty girl, do you want me to fuck you right here? Is that what you want?" He took his cock in his hand and slipped his cock into me, the head, another couple of inches, and then he was all the way into me. I grunted and moaned as he slid into me, filling me with his cock, the first cock I had had in weeks. "Is that what you wanted? Is it? That cock in that tight cunt of yours." He leaned forward, kissing me on the lips and neck as he started to thrust in and out of me. It was a great fit, sliding in and out, slamming his pelvis against mine, turning and grinding, lifting up so he slid against my clit as he slid into me. "Yes, yes. Yes," I moaned, throwing my head to one side then another as I felt him fill me up. The feeling was great, his hard cock against me. He grabbed my hips and pulled up as he slid down. Intensifying each thrust and the sensation as he filled me up. "Tell me what you want," he said, his voice was urgent, his face flushed, his breathing hard. "I want you to cum in me. Fill my cunt up. Please. Please do it," I begged. I felt him swell in me, felt him get bigger and harder as he came, squirting into me. He collapsed onto me and then started to laugh. "What's wrong," I asked, afraid that I had caused a problem. "I can't remember the last time I had so much fun. And I can't wait to do it again." I started to laugh too. "It may take a while, because now I've got to recharge my batteries." We both laughed. And I thought about what Susan had said to me and thought about a journey with James as we drifted to sleep, a tangle of arms and legs and nakedness on my couch. Just Desserts Thanks once again to my editor "Wires" for his efforts in my behalf. He has, once again, taken my scratches and morphed them into a story much better written and easier to read. ***** I rang the doorbell and stepped back to await our host. I put my arm around my darling Heather and pulled her to me for a quick kiss. Oh, how I loved this woman. She had given me four of the happiest years of my life. We were once again going to celebrate our free evening with my best friend Doug Bevers. This time we were attending his New Years Eve party in his mansion. I looked forward to seeing Doug, but I looked forward more to spending the evening and night with my wife and ring in the New Year in style. I was about to ring the bell once more when finally Doug opened the door for us. He grinned and very loudly invited us inside. I already knew from the number of vehicles parked on the street and in his yard that this would be a very large party, but I was still shocked at the number of people milling around inside his home. Doug reached for Heather and gave her a big hug then a gentle kiss on the cheek before pulling her into the house. He turned from her and shook my hand before once more stepping aside so I could enter. A maid took our coats and disappeared with them. Doug walked between us and said, "God, I'm glad to see you two. I really hate it when my parties get this large but it just seems like I have to invite everyone. I either do business with or have social obligations to repay to everyone on my list except for a few good friends like you two. Clarissa's around somewhere, probably dodging hands from the lechers like usual. As the evening progressed Heather and I danced, ate, and drank way more than we should have. We had no worries because we knew we had a bed upstairs when we needed it. We were one of the few couples invited to sleep over so we didn't have to drive drunk, get a cab, or have one of us remain sober to serve as designated driver. I am moderately successful in the investment business—oh, hell, I'm one of the highest selling brokers in my office and in the top quarter of the brokers in the entire company—so I knew, or knew of, many of the people in the room. I agreed with Doug. Many of them were letches or worse. My Heather was a very beautiful woman and had to fend off the advances just as did his Clarissa. As the evening progressed I took the opportunity to network. I greeted current customers and made my pitch to some of the more well to do in the room trying to gain new customers. As the evening progressed I also kept my eye on Heather. I trusted her fully but I have to admit I was still slightly jealous. I kept an eye on her constantly and from time to time I took it upon myself to 'rescue' her from a man who I felt was trying to be more than a charming conversationalist. Every time I had to 'rescue' her in previous parties I got a smile and gentle kiss from Heather, usually with a quiet "thank you" or "thank you for rescuing me, Honey" from her. This evening was no exception. Many times I would walk up when I saw her trying to break free from a male and take her away. I got her gentle touch and a smile before a hug or kiss on the cheek then her quiet "thank you". We would talk a moment or perhaps catch a quick dance or drink and would go our separate ways once again. As the evening drug on many of the people left leaving only those who intended to ring in the New Year with our host. I began to notice one particular man following, almost stalking, Heather. He was never far from her and watched her constantly. I recognized his look. He was hooked on her, totally in lust with her and was taking every opportunity to press his case. At first Heather would ignore him or even walk away. As the evening wore on she began to stay with him longer, even smiling or laughing when he spoke. Occasionally she would gently touch his forearm. This was not like my Heather. She never flirted that long with any of the men who approached her, especially a stranger. Doug saw me watching them just before midnight and walked up to me. He said, "That's Jonathan Douglass with Heather. He's a real ass, a ladies' man deluxe. I didn't even invite him, but one of the ladies I invited brought him as her date. I haven't seen them together since you and Heather arrived." Doug stood beside me and looked around the room carefully. He got an inquisitive look on his face then he continued, "In fact, I think Douglas' date has left already now that I think about it. She watched him following Heather around for several minutes earlier this evening, then I saw them having a rather spirited conversation. I haven't seen her since then. He's trouble, Stan; trouble with a Capital T. He's married and they're separated more than they're together. He preys on married women or women who have something he wants. Usually, he goes for the married pussy and for the single women with money he thinks he can get a hold of. I don't know why, hell, he's worth millions on his own. You need to watch him. He can talk a Nun into fucking him and make her think it was her idea and she loves him for all eternity." For the third time that evening I walked up to separate Heather and Jonathan. He glared at me as he did most of the earlier times I separated him from Heather and made a condescending remark as I walked off with her. This time Heather did not thank me. She gave me an upset look and said, "Stan, what's the matter with you tonight? You could tell I was enjoying talking to Jonathan. Why did you feel the need to separate us? He's not like most of the lechers you save me from. He's a really interesting guy and has some of the funniest stories. He's running for Mayor and has been telling me about some of the people he meets and has to deal with in his campaign. When he found out I work in my company's public information and advertising section he began asking me questions about how to better get his mayoral message out to the voters. I think he might offer me a job, Honey. I really need to network more with him. Just think what could happen if I could get a position in his administration." "I don't really care, Heather. I don't trust that asshole and I don't like him around you. Doug says he is trouble, a real womanizer. I've also heard some really bad things about him and I want you safe. From what I've heard, the position he is interviewing you for would require you working on your back." Heather glared at me for a moment. I could see the anger flit across her face and was scared I had blown it, but then she smiled. As she leaned in to kiss my face she said, "Awww. That's sweet. I actually think you're jealous! Well, you have nothing to worry about, Honey. You're all mine." We had already separated again in the swirl of socializing people before I realized she said I was all hers, not that she was all mine. When the thought hit me I stopped a moment and wondered if it had just been a slip of the tongue or if she was trying to tell me something subconsciously. Three months later I had reason to recall that night in painful detail. The past two months things were rough in my home. Shortly after the party Heather began running late getting home from some of her meetings or visits to her parents. When I questioned her about her tardiness she became angry, defensive, saying she either lost track of time or she had to finish up a project or something before she could leave. She also began volunteering for the local Republican Party after work and that took up her time. Heather is the manager of her section and her skills in that area are almost legendary. She became the local campaign headquarters voluntary office manager and gave advice on public information initiatives. From the little I heard she made the chaos go away and became a very popular volunteer. Like many other unknowing cuckolded husbands, as she began staying away from our home more often I began to notice our sex life suffering. I was refused more, and when I got some sex it wasn't as good. Now, she let me fuck her where before we made love, sometimes for hours on end. Oh, she always had a reason, such as she was tired, or it was too late, or we didn't have time but the fact remained where before she had been a willing, enthusiastic, passionate participant in our lovemaking now she seemed to do it grudgingly as if it was a disliked duty if we had sex at all. One day I was talking to Doug about the recent problems in my marriage. He gave me a worried look. Finally, he said, "Stan, I'm getting worried. I may have been the cause of your marriage going under. For the last few weeks I have been hearing Jonathan has found another married whore to play with. Rumor has it he met her at a New Year's party and we both know where he was and who he spent most of his evening with on New Year's Eve. She is supposedly a volunteer in his campaign for Mayor, as well." I felt myself get dizzy and I lost my breath for a moment. Doug looked at me and continued speaking. He said, "Stan, what's the matter? All at once you're as white as a sheet." I sat looking at Doug a moment then I said, "Heather has began volunteering for the Republican Party in their office an hour or so after work and on Saturdays. She's always late getting home and refuses to talk about anything she does any longer. It seems that whenever I bring it up she becomes defensive and angry. The evenings she is latest she becomes angry if I even get near her and is almost violent if I try to see her naked or make love to her." Doug sat back in his chair and pressed his lips together for a moment, then said, "Stan I'm going to find out what's going on for you and if-no, let's just say I intend to make him pay if he abused my hospitality by beginning an affair with the wife of my best friend. I would be angry if he picked up on any married woman at one of my parties, but abusing my hospitality by taking your wife is even worse. I should have made him leave when his date did but I was too worried about being a good host. If I am the cause of your problems, my friend, I promise to make it right for you to the best of my ability." I suppose I should say a little more about Doug here. He is my best friend. I would trust him with my life. Hell, I would trust him in a room with my naked wife if they had both been without sex for a year. He would never do anything to hurt me. We were closer than brothers. Doug is smart, probably much smarter than anyone I have ever met. We were both in the same class in high school. He was Valedictorian; I struggled to graduate in the top ten percent of our 223 person graduating class. He went to one year of college and decided it was a waste of time. He never had to study and missed almost all of his classes but still made a 4.0 GPA. Finally, he just took a couple of finance courses, then began teaching himself all he needed to know about investing and finance. Of course, the reason he needed to know about business and finance was because when he was in his first year of college he inherited a little over $70,000.00 when his grandparents passed away. Unlike most young people, when he got the money he did not blow it. He did buy a better used pickup truck, then he invested the rest in the stock market. His first two stocks he purchased were on the recommendation of a broker. Of course, they were the current 'flavor of the day' and the only ones who made money were the broker and brokerage house. This pissed Doug off big time so he began studying. He watched CNBC, he read, and researched. He decided to open up an account at a discount on line brokerage. He moved his entire net worth into the account and began investing on his own. From the first trade Doug made on his own he began to make money—much more money than he made using the so called experts. Of course, it didn't hurt that he began investing in the late 1980's during the Tec boom and the dot com craze. He got into and out of many of the high flying stocks. No, he didn't make money on all his purchases, but he did manage to grow his nest egg exponentially. Wisely, he was smart enough to bail out when things started going to hell. He moved his investments into safer, more mainstream, stocks and rode the market up with them. He bought Berkshire Hathaway at a little over $17000.00 per share and sold out when it reached $72357.00 per share three years later. By that time he was a multi millionaire and was doing business with others, either in venture capital mode or other investments including real estate. I finished college and worked as a salesman for a restaurant supply chain for four years. I didn't like the travel and was becoming very serious about Heather so I became a stock broker. I managed a small part of Doug's millions. He gave me some of his investments to manage when I started in the business. I suspected he did it to help out a friend and I felt guilty about him doing it. I knew he didn't need me to advise and manage any part of his portfolio and felt like it was charity. He convinced me I was needed. His reasoning was twofold. One, he wanted some of his investment in different brokerages for safety. Two, he felt like someone in the business might hear of good deals or bad information about some of his companies before he did. No, neither of us even for a moment considered anything that could be considered insider trading, but still from time to time I did find a pearl of wisdom I could share with him. We both prospered. He sent me many of his friends or acquaintances if they wanted to use a full service brokerage. I then made money making trades for them. Doug did not work outside his home. He worked eight to ten hours a day and worked very hard, but only for himself. He researched stocks for himself, traded, and lived life large. He tried to bring me and Heather into his circle fully. We went to many charitable events with him at his expense. Of course, from time to time I did foot a bill for some gathering because I had an expense account as a broker also. We went to political meetings with Doug and rubbed shoulders with the movers and shakers in our area. I think we attended every party Doug held at his home. The Friday evening after Doug and I had our talk we were scheduled to go to a $500.00 per plate political rally with Doug and his lady. Once again he was treating Heather and me. This time for some reason Heather was even more unwilling to go with us than normal. I am afraid I insisted she accompany me and to this day I am sorry I did. I suppose the train wreck that our marriage was rushing toward would have come as soon as Doug's investigators watching Heather made their report but I would have at least remained unknowing a while longer. That meal was the beginning of the end for us, however. When we arrived I saw we were at a meal where an incumbent candidate for the State Senate was to speak in support of other state and local candidates. The money paid for the tickets went to the State Republican Party although some of it would support the local politicians. What I did not realize was that the candidate for Mayor of our fine city was to be the guest of honor. Of course it was none other than Jonathan 'asshole' Douglass. When we entered I saw Jonathan standing near the front of the room smiling and visiting with several dignitaries. I felt Heather pull back slightly and turned to see what was bothering her. She was standing staring at Jonathan. Her face glowed like a woman in love. I suspected then that I had lost my wife. I said, "What?" I saw Heather give herself a little shake then she gave me a wan smile. "I'm sorry, Honey, I just didn't realize who this supper was for." She looked so guilty I wondered if that was true, but I said nothing. She should have known Jonathan would be there since she worked part time at campaign headquarters. I thought, now I know why she was so resistant when I insisted we attend. I looked at Doug and saw him watching our little conversation. He turned and glared at Jonathan before fixing a smile on his face and placing his hand in the small of Heather's back. He guided her to her chair and pulled it out, helping her seat herself. He then seated Clarissa in a chair that was to be at his left. When I walked past him as he was doing that, he said, "I'm sorry, Stan. I didn't know he was one of the recipients of our largess when I invited you. I saw her face, Bud. I hope I'm wrong, but, well, I have an appointment Monday with a friend that I would like you to meet. Can we do lunch? Say about 11:30?" After she finished her meal, Heather excused herself to go to the restroom. I noticed when she left the table Jonathan rose and exited the room through a different door. I thought a moment then started to rise and follow. Doug placed his hand on my arm and said, "No, Stan. It's taken care of and if it's her it's too late anyway. Just wait until Monday. Please?" Later that evening I once again lost track of Heather and went looking for her when I returned from the restroom. I managed to find my way onto the stage and behind the curtains. I heard moaning and quiet gentle voices. One of them I recognized immediately as Heather's. I felt an instant surge of anger and began walking toward the voices. I stumbled on a rope and made some noise. I heard Heather's voice whisper, "Oh, someone's coming. I have to get out of here, Honey. It wouldn't do either of us any good to get caught right now. See you at the office. I love you." I heard a quick smack as if she had given a fast kiss then rapid footsteps fading away toward the other side of the stage. I followed but was much too late to catch what I assumed was my cheating wife and Jonathan. I was slowly making my way back the way I came when I ran into Doug in the hallway. His face looked like a thundercloud. He grabbed me and forced me to stop and look at him. He said, "Damn it, Stan, I told you to let it be. My people need to gather information for you before you do something stupid. If she is really cheating on you, and I believe she is, we need information, proof, so we can plan and exact the proper revenge against this asshole and so you can get the best deal in a divorce if that is what you want. The way you're trying to do it the only thing you would get is screwed by the legal system." After he calmed me down somewhat Doug continued, "I saw them hurrying down the other hallway from back here. They stopped at the door into the auditorium and she looked around trying to find you. When she didn't see you she became scared and told him she thought it was you wandering around trying to find them. Now, you have a suspicious cheater on your hands and it will be more difficult to get the goods on them." When we returned to the table we made a production of it. We made sure Heather and some others saw us laughing and passing a pocket flask back and forth between us. Heather glared at me when I took my seat by her and asked where we had been. About that time Clarissa came up to Doug and wrapped her arms around him. She smiled at us and said, "OK, you two. Next time I catch you sneaking out to the car for some booze I either get to go with you or I turn you in. Now give me a hit on that flask." We watched as Heather relaxed a little, then she turned to Clarissa and asked, "Oh, my God. Is that what these two have been up to? I wondered where they were when I couldn't find them." Clarissa laughed and said, "Oh, Yeah, I tried to get to them for my share before they got inside, but as you can see they outran me." Later, during the dancing, I took my turn with Clarissa. She melted into me and once when I tried to turn to survey the room behind me she refused to follow my lead. She gave me a gentle kiss on the cheek and said, "No, Stan. You really don't want to look over there. Just dance with me and try to enjoy the evening. I know what you're going through right now and believe me, it will get worse. Just remember, Doug and I are here for you and we will always be here for you." Just Desserts I relaxed a little and gave her a gentle kiss back. "Thank you for helping with the conversation earlier. I almost lost it and Doug seems to think that would have been a very bad thing to have done. I want to tear that asshole a new one so badly I don't know what to do." The rest of the week and weekend were rough on me. I was alternately scared and angry. I knew in my heart that Heather had left me emotionally and that it was just a matter of time until she left me physically. We had not been a happy couple for several weeks now. I was beginning to draw away from her mentally even though I was not sure she was cheating. If she was not cheating we had some other problem because we just were not as loving a couple as we once were. Finally, my meeting with Doug and his friend arrived. I was almost positive his friend would be a Private Investigator. I was a nervous wreck and felt my stomach rolling. It was upset and sour from the acid. I felt my anger boiling just below the surface and I knew the other two men could see it. I was frightened about what I thought I might find out and anxious to find it out at the same time. Doug stood when I walked up to the table and shook my hand then pulled me into a hug. After his greeting, he introduced me to his friend Simon Hobbs, who did turn out to be an investigator. We sat and perused the menu for a minute so we could order our meals. The waitress bounced up and took our order, then Doug said, "Well, why don't we get the unpleasant business out of the way first?" He looked over at his other guest then back to me. The PI reached into his briefcase and pulled a large envelope from it. He handed it to me and said, "We followed your wife and Mr. Douglas as instructed by Mr. Bevers. The surveillance continued for 20 days from the time we were hired until last Saturday evening. During the period we found the subjects had lunch together daily with the exception of Sundays when she seemed to always remain home. Their meals were scattered around town but always occurred at nicer hotels after which they would adjourn to a room Mr. Douglas's campaign rented. On eight different occasions we were able to get into the room posing as a room service waiter. On all eight occasions neither of the subjects was dressed and the bed had been used. Pictures of the room and subjects are in the report. We also made audio recordings of each encounter by placing a microphone under the door of the room. The subjects had sex on every visit to the hotels during our surveillance." "Many days we have documented inappropriate contact at the campaign headquarters or afterward. We actually have photographs of the subjects engaged in sexual acts three times at the campaign headquarters and once when they attended a party in a local strip bar with some of Mr. Douglas' friends and supporters." "Perhaps the best, or at least the most damning, thing we caught was when Mr. Douglas used your wife to insure the support of the Municipal Workers Union. They met the President of the Union, Stephen Negrano at the Gentlemen's Club. He seemed quite taken with your wife. We have pictures of her sitting on his lap while he sucked her nipple and had his hand under her dress. My operative managed to get close enough to record the conversation. Listen to this segment of the tape then we will move on." Simon placed a small notebook PC on the table and began playing a segment from a DVD. He said, "You will be given a copy of this DVD in your report but I wanted to discuss this incident with you before we broke our meeting up. My operative was very excited about this information and I believe your attorney will be, also." Doug and I leaned forward and watched and listened to the ensuing segment. Heather was seated between Jonathan and Stephen during the session. The two men were leaning over her to talk and Jonathan's hands were wandering. He caressed Heather's nipples and had his hand under her skirt for several moments as the segment unrolled. We heard Heather admonish him to stop once but he told her, "Now, Heather, I can feel how aroused you are and you know how you enjoy what we do. Just relax and go with the flow. It isn't like this type of thing doesn't happen on occasion in this club." When he quit talking, Jonathan leaned to Heather and gave her a gentle kiss. She moaned and pressed her breasts against him as his hand continued to work under her skirt,-one of the shortest skirts I had ever seen her wear; one, I might add, I had never seen before. From the angle of the operatives shot I could plainly see she was wearing no panties. When Jonathan leaned back in his seat Stephan reached out and pulled her toward him. She started to rise and resist but he continued pulling her until she was seated on his lap. His large hand went under her dress and we watched as his fingers pressed into her glistening cunt. He unbuttoned her top and began sucking on her nipples. Heather hissed, "Stop that, Stephan." Stephen looked over at Jonathan and said, "Jonathan, I think you know what you need to do to get the endorsement of the Union. I want a weekend with this lady. If I get that I will make sure the Union supports your candidacy." Heather stiffened and tried to rise as she hissed, "NO! That's NEVER going to happen. Now let me go!" Stephen just looked over at Jonathan and raised his eyebrows while he held Heather on his lap and continued playing with her. Jonathan swallowed and leaned to Heather. He said, "Honey, we really need this endorsement. Please, just go with him and help me with this. I mean this will help ensure our future and, well, it's not like you've never made love before. Just tell your asshole husband you have a weekend meeting." Heather looked shocked and resisted a moment longer in the video, then we saw her relax. Her legs came farther apart to allow Stephen better access. She moaned and turned her head to him and they kissed. We watched as her hips began thrusting, driving his large fingers deeper into her draining cunt. He brought her to an orgasm seated in his lap. She screamed out in her release and collapsed against him, her legs splayed disgustingly open. We saw the clear liquid of her cum draining from her cunt and down the cheeks of her ass. Many of the men in the club were watching Heather instead of the strippers by this time. About that time the manager of the club came over to the table. He looked at Heather then at the men on either side of her. He seemed nervous and stammered as he said, "Please, Mr. Negrano, I've ignored a lot of things for you but I've been tipped off that you and the boys have been getting a little too obvious. Lt. Jones told me the Chief has asked some of his detectives to come to the club and try to cut down on the displays like you and the lady just had. It they catch us letting things like that occur they'll close me down. Can't you please either take it into one of the back rooms or to the hotel? Please, Sir? This business is all I have to make my living on." Stephen laughed and looked at one of the large men on the other side of the table. He said, "Hey, Ralph. Why don't you slip Joe here a couple thou for his trouble. Me and the little lady are going over to the Doubletree for the weekend. Make the arrangements for me, would you? Set it up as an executive meeting for the Union like we usually do." I felt myself becoming more upset and started to rise. I snarled, "That lying bitch. She was gone last weekend. She called me Friday evening and informed me she was assigned an emergency damage control project for her employer and was flying out to San Francisco." Doug and Simon grabbed me and pulled me back into my seat. Simon said, "Please wait, Sir. I want to fast forward and show you another clip then we'll just let you read the report for yourself. We have some ideas about this I wanted to talk to you about but I thought you might want to see the DVD before we talked about them. Now my operative quit filming at the club and called his backup. My operatives managed to beat Stanley to the Doubletree. After his goons checked him in he and Heather went into the bar for a few drinks. My operatives followed the goons to the Suite in hotel uniforms we acquired. When they opened the door my men followed them in. After the goons finished checking out the Suite my men began straightening pillows, flowers, and other decorations." Simon smiled and continued, "The senior man even sent his assistant down for some fresh flowers and more champagne so they would have an excuse to wander around longer. We managed to place several cameras and microphones in the main room and the two bedrooms. By the time your wife and Stanley made it back to the suite they were both inebriated. The cameras caught these images among others." Simon again began playing the DVD in his small computer. Heather and Stanley walked into the suite and closed the door. She was giggling and rubbing the large lump in his crotch. Stanley leaned down and gave her a kiss, then with a roar he literally tore her blouse open. Buttons popped off and flew everywhere. He pushed it down off her shoulders while Heather was lowering her skirt. After her skirt fell in a puddle at her feet she shrugged her shoulders and let what was left of her blouse fall beside it. I already knew from pictures taken at the club she was wearing no underwear so she was, for all intents and purposes, now nude. She stepped and kicked off her shoes, then took Stephen's hand, giggling as she pulled him toward the largest bedroom and the king sized bed. Heather undressed Stephen and pushed him back on the bed. She grinned and followed, crawling between his legs as he scooted farther up the mattress until his head was almost on the pillows. Heather's knees were just on the edge of the bed and she leaned forward to lick and kiss his cock. Stephen moaned and pulled her head downward driving more of his cock into her mouth. After several minutes of the blowjob we saw another male figure walk into the picture. Stephen looked up at him and smiled. He reached out and grabbed Heather's head holding it onto his cock. The second man who we could now see was the Director of the City Services held his hard cock in his right hand. I don't know which of the men was the largest. Both looked to have at least eight inches and were almost as large around as a can of shaving cream. The Director was now standing directly behind Heather. He was grinning as he stared down at her beautiful ass. We could see her juices glistening on her cunt lips and thighs. There was a clear stream draining from her and what appeared to be flecks of white mixed in. It was apparent she had already been fucked at least once. The Director placed his left hand on her hip and nudged his cock against Heather's swollen cunt lips. She tried to jerk her head up from Stanley's crotch and she twisted her cunt away from the surprise invader. We saw Stephen pull her head more forcefully down on his cock and heard him say, "Easy, Honey. You just relax and enjoy another nice cock. Jonathan and you agreed that I got a weekend with you for an endorsement. Now me and the boys are going to enjoy that fine cunt of yours. If you just relax you'll never want to go back to that little limp dick of Jonathan's." Heather remained tense for a moment then we watched as her legs seemed to relax and her back arched. She tilted her cunt back and upward as she spread her legs a little more. We watched the Director move back behind her and feed his cock into her dripping cunt. After he got the first couple of inches lodged in Heather he placed his other hand on her other hip. He pulled back slightly and we watched as he set his feet. With a groan and a rapid lunge the Director drove the remainder of his cock deeply into her. Heather screamed and pulled her head off Stephen's cock. She pulled some of her hair out when she moved. He rapidly grabbed Heather and pulled her back to his cock. By now both men were thrusting into and sliding out of Heather. She was moaning constantly and we watched as she began pressing back against the man in her cunt. Both men came almost at once and we watched as the pile began collapsing. Heather rolled to the side. We saw sperm draining down her chin and from her dilated cunt. I thought that was the end and started to sit back but Simon said, "Wait, there's just a little more." We watched while the two men played with Heather's nipples and gave her kisses. She fondled their cocks and to our surprise they began to get erect once more. Stephen smiled and pulled Heather over him. She straddled him and grabbed his cock. Her face showed her desire and ecstasy. She lowered her cunt onto him. After she was fully seated on him he pulled her down and began kissing her. While they were kissing the Director rose from the bed and moved behind them. He reached out and scooped some of the drainage from Heather's cunt. He placed it on his cock and moved behind her. At first it appeared as if he was going to take her anally. We watched the head of his cock nudge up in the crease between Heather's pussy lips and her thigh. He held it with his right hand and we watched as his hips thrust once, then again. He changed his angle slightly and thrust once more. Heather's head came up and she pulled against Stephen's arms. She screamed and we watched in shock as the head of the Director's cock slid out of sight into Heather's cunt. He stopped for a moment then pulled back slightly and pressed forward once more. We heard Heather moan then she began rocking back against the second cock invading her cunt trying to assist in the insertion. In almost no time both men were embedded balls deep in Heather's cunt and she was moaning and thrusting against them in frenzy. When one would withdraw the other would insert keeping Heather in a sexual frenzy constantly. Within about two minutes Heather screamed out in orgasm. We watched while her cunt contracted and released repeatedly and her fluids drained faster from within. This set off both men and they seemed to cum together as they slammed deeply into her. We watched their balls draw up against the base of their cocks and pump their seed into her. Cum began draining from Heather before either man withdrew. Finally, first the Director then Stephen withdrew from Heather's stretched cunt. We watched runnels of thick white cum drain from her and run down her thighs. Once again the three collapsed onto the bed in exhaustion. After that Simon turned off his computer. He looked at me a moment and said, "Your wife stayed in that Hotel room until check out time Monday. During that time she had sex with all the senior managers of the Municipal Workers Union as well as with Stephen. We heard plans for using Union Money and paid Union workers to support Jonathan's run for Mayor. Late on Saturday evening Jonathan visited the room and he, the Director, and Stephen had sex with Heather most of the night. We have pictures of that also and recordings of them planning to misuse City funds should Jonathan be elected. We also have pictures of Senator Nussbaum and two Judges having sex with your wife and Jonathan Douglas. Recordings show he was trading her sexual favors for their endorsements as well." The investigator looked at me before he continued. He said, "During your attempt to catch your wife and Mr. Douglass at the Campaign Dinner, they were going to have sex on the stage. He had her dress pulled down below her breasts and her panties off. He was just beginning the act when she heard you and forced him to stop. That was when they ran from you. We have pictures of what transpired there, too. It would have been better if you had not intervened. Pictures of that act in that location would have been very damaging. We were going to shoot the pictures so it would show the crowd in the background. At least you didn't get caught or cause a scene that would have further damaged your efforts to end this on a successful note for you." "We have provided a copy of the entire file to you, sir, and will make one available to your attorney if you so desire. Our investigation fees cover any local testimony in a court of law if that is necessary. I would, however, recommend we continue surveillance for possible criminal prosecution. I know that is usually the responsibility of the police force but if we give them and the FBI some documentation of misuse of campaign funds and conspiracy they will take our accusations more seriously. Besides, if you go for a divorce and your wife is incarcerated you will get a better settlement. " Even knowing this was coming I must admit I was upset and shocked. I could not believe the depth of depravity and disrespect my wife had shown during the period she was under observation. The documents showed she felt she was in love with Jonathan. They were actively talking about how and when she would leave me! She was gushing about the position promised her in Jonathan's administration if he was elected Mayor. Perhaps what shocked me more than that was her willingness to spend the weekend in the Doubletree and the sex acts she performed there for her lover and his friends. Some of the sex acts Heather performed with Jonathan were things she flatly refused to do with and for me. In many instances she had even been the instigator of the sex later in the weekend and in their private sessions. I had always known Heather was driven to succeed in her career and admired powerful people, but I just could not believe all she was willing to do to further herself. It made me almost physically ill. I didn't eat much of my meal and I noticed neither did Doug. After the investigator left we had several drinks. We were both silent in our own thoughts for a bit before Doug told me, "Stan, I am so sorry I ruined your marriage. I hold myself totally to blame for your troubles and I intend to make it up to you. I know I can't undo what I allowed to happen, but I intend to make it as right for you as I can. I will find you a good lawyer if, NO, FOR the divorce. I will give you any other support you need until you are as near back to the way you used to be as is possible." I pushed away from the table and looked at Doug. I said, "Well, get to looking for that attorney. I was almost ready to give her an ultimatum to either lose her attitude or we would divorce before I found out about her cheating for sure. Now, there is no way I will keep the bitch. My GOD, I can't believe she did those things! I wonder when she changed or if I just never knew what kind of woman she really was? As for the other, you know as well as I do that Heather's cheating was not your fault and you owe me nothing because of that. " On Thursday Doug called me and said, "Hey, my friend. I have found you an absolute shark for an attorney. She hates cheaters with a passion and always takes the innocent parties side in a divorce case. She has a real hatred for public figures and businessmen who use their status and position to move on women, as well. If you play this right, you can not only dump Heather and keep most of your assets but you can get your pound of flesh from Jonathan!" Doug gave me the name and phone number of the attorney he recommended. I called her later that afternoon to set up an appointment for consultation. When I told her assistant who I was she said they were expecting my call. She also said they had penciled in an appointment for the next morning at nine a.m. if I could make it. I accepted the appointment time and got a list of items I needed to bring, information I should have with me for the initial meeting. When I arrived the next morning I was ushered into the office immediately. I was impressed with my new attorney and we rapidly fell into a friendly discussion of my wants and desires for the upcoming divorce action. I told my new attorney, Sally, "I want out of this marriage with all of the assets. I know I probably won't receive them but that is what I want. I want to file a lawsuit against that wife stealing bastard for anything and everything we can. I want to cost him the election for mayor and leave him a penniless has-been." Just Desserts Sally smiled and leaned back in her chair. She slightly rocked it from side to side while she thought. Finally, she smiled and asked, "Do you really want to do that or do you want to rape him financially AND cost him the election and his good name as well as send him to prison? We almost certainly can manage to get him some jail time if we do this correctly. I have reviewed portions of the PI report already and it is good. I'm sorry, I know how bad it is for you and your marriage, but the information it contains is so damning that we can crucify most of the main players in this little mess. In fact, I am obligated to turn the investigators report over to the authorities because they have broken several federal laws. If you allow me to do that first and then file the divorce we can hit him with a more painful retribution. If you file first he may be able to run and evade capture for some time." "I don't care what we do to him and those other assholes that had sex with Heather as long as it hurts and hurts badly. I know Heather is guilty as sin in this whole mess, but she couldn't have done it with him if he hadn't been willing. From what I saw when I assume he first met her he was the aggressor. He pursued her until she succumbed to his charms and crawled into his bed. It takes two to tango you know. She always wore her rings so he knew she was married. In fact I heard them talking on the tapes about her dumb ass husband and planning on how to handle me when the time came for the big split." Sally and I worked through her questions and I made decisions. I told her to prepare and file the divorce paperwork immediately. Sally and I also agreed the PI report should be given to the FBI immediately so they could begin an investigation into Campaign Law violations and misuse of Union and City funds and offices. Sally suggested I go with the process server when Heather was served and make a threat about filing lawsuits against Mr. Douglas. She said, "If he works like most politicians and powerful people he will either threaten you physically, threaten to have you fired from your job, or will threaten you with a counter suit. If you hold tough I expect him to offer to settle with you clandestinely, to buy you off. If that is the case, depending on where he gets the money we may get him for even more campaign law violations. As slimy as many in public office are I expect him to try and divert campaign funds to buy you off." Sally reached into her drawer and gave me a very small microphone and recorder. She said, "I want you to have this with you at all times and keep it running. Wear the microphone hidden in your hair and hide the recorder inside your car. The range for the transmitter is about a half mile. If your car is out of range of the transmitter this little microphone is capable of recording up to six hours of conversation internally. The device will download any internally stored recordings as soon as you are within range of your car. If you will give me your keys I will have someone install the recorder in your car while we finish up here." "I also suggest you either rehire your PI or let me get one for you to continue surveillance of your wife and Mr. Douglas. I have heard rumors that Mrs. Malone is not the first wife he has seduced and when caught he has tried illegal means to make the problem go away. If we have the planning and offers on tape this time we may be able to really put the hurt on him and your wife." I smiled and said, "The PI made the same recommendation. I still have him on retainer." The next Thursday morning Sally called me and said, "Mr. Malone, we are ready to file the divorce paperwork and serve your wife. Do you still want to go with our plan to be there when she is served and make your comments?" "Oh, yes. If nothing else I can get a small amount of pleasure by being there. I have been thinking about the service also. Don't you think it would be a good idea to serve her this Friday evening at the campaign headquarters?" Sally was quiet for a moment then she said, "No, Stan, I am afraid I think that would be a very bad idea. If you serve her there and make the comments you plan on making all the campaign workers in the office will either hear you or hear about your threats almost immediately. If that happens it would be all over the papers tomorrow and the good and honorable Mr. Douglas would be painted into a corner. He might lose the election but there would be no incentive for him to either threaten you or try to buy you off. I suggest we delay serving her until she is either alone or with him only." "Ok, I guess I can see your point. Why don't we just follow them and see if they go somewhere alone tomorrow night? Normally Heather doesn't get home until nearly midnight on Fridays. I think the PI report said they usually spent some time alone in a hotel room Friday evening, usually the same one they used Friday at noon. Could we just serve them in the room and catch them in the act perhaps?" Sally agreed to have the process server and I interrupt their tryst in the hotel room Friday evening. When I entered my office I found two men in suits waiting on me. They introduced themselves and told me they wanted to discuss me handling some funds for their widowed mother. I smiled and invited them into my office. After I closed the door they walked up to me and showed me identification cards. They were from the FBI and wanted to discuss my interest in Jonathan. They were working on the case based on the material my attorney had already forwarded. When the two gentlemen found out I intended to go with the process server and tape the procedure they also requested I wear one of their devices to record the conversation. That request worried me because I wondered how it would affect my plans to make some questionable money from Jonathan—my payoff if you will. I couldn't think of a valid reason to refuse them so I agreed to wear their wire also. That evening we all followed the two oblivious lovebirds from the campaign headquarters to the hotel. They left headquarters at seven in the evening and were in the room by 7:30. There were so many of us following them it looked like a convoy. I was actually afraid we would be identified. After they got to the hotel we gave them almost an hour. I thoughtfully brought my camera to see if I could record this segment of time for posterity. I am not normally interested in home movies but I made an exception in this case. We were just getting ready to knock on the door when we were given a gift from God. We heard the elevator door open and a room service waiter came out pushing a cart loaded with dishes. He walked up to the room and looked at us with a questioning look on his face. I smiled and motioned at the door then said, "Go on, be our guest. We had no idea we would interrupt Mr. Douglas' supper. We'll just come back in a moment." The waiter smiled and said, "Ok, no problem." He knocked on the door and when the asshole asked who it was he said, "Room Service." The door opened and our friendly waiter went into the suite. The process server and I stood out of sight and waited for the waiter to leave. When he opened the door to leave I moved to keep it from closing. The process server and I then walked quietly into the room. We stood just inside the door for a moment, out of sight of the two cheaters. We waited for Jonathan and Heather to begin their supper before we fully entered the room and caught sight of them. I was slightly in the lead when we entered the suite. I was shocked, appalled and heartbroken at what I saw. I know I shouldn't have been since I had seen the PI report but I was. There is something different about seeing a recording of something and seeing it in real life. Heather and Jonathan were nude. They were sitting at the table with the food spread out in front of them. They had ordered several appetizers and some dessert as well as a bottle of wine. Heather was sitting on Jonathan's lap with her back to him. She had his cock inserted in her vagina. As they cooed to and fed each other from the plates she was slowly, sensuously moving her hips making what looked like gentle love to him. She varied her movements; occasionally rising until he was almost out of her then dropping down onto his lap rapidly then she would just thrust her hips back and forth for a few strokes. From the look on both their faces they were in heaven. From time to tome Heather would turn her head over her shoulder and give Jonathan a loving kiss. I started filming when we rounded the corner. Finally I nodded to the server and he walked into the room. He said, "Are you Jonathan Douglas and Heather Malone?" Heather screamed and jumped from Jonathan's lap. She rushed to the bed and wrapped herself in a hotel robe that was lying on it. Jonathan let out an oath and stood angrily. He snarled, "Yes, asshole, we are, and I advise you to get the hell out of my room right now. How did you get in here anyway?" "Well, sir, your room service waiter let us in as he left. Didn't you hear us ask if we could enter? I was positive you invited us in." The server walked farther into the room and handed Heather her divorce paperwork. He said, "You've been served." I walked farther into the room and Heather finally saw me. She said, "Stan, Damn You. What are you doing here and what's this about a divorce? I'll rape you if you don't call off this madness. You'll have nothing left, I'll have it all." "No, Heather, you won't do any of those things. In fact, if you know what's good for you you'll just sign the papers and accept the settlement I offer. When I'm finished with you I'm going to get my pound of flesh from lover boy here. I am in the process of filing a lawsuit against him and his campaign for mental cruelty and Alienation of Affection. I sure am lucky we live in one of the states that still allow lawsuits like that. Of course, that might just possibly influence the election as a bonus. To put it crudely, you've been screwed and now you're going to get royally fucked." Heather didn't even try to come home that evening. In fact I didn't see or hear from her until the following Wednesday when she called me at work. She didn't even try to apologize or make small talk. When I answered the phone she began talking. She said, "Jonathan and I want a meeting with you about this mess. We have reserved a meeting room at the Doubletree hotel for this evening. We want to get this mess over with so we can move on. We will expect you at seven." I got no consideration. I was not asked if I could make the meeting. I was just ordered to attend. I called Sally and told her about the phone call then I called my contact with the FBI. Sally said to be sure to attend it as did the FBI. Sally said she would be there with me. The FBI also said they would have men close by to help in case things got rough. When I arrived at the hotel I asked where my meeting was. The desk clerk directed me down the hallway to the smallest of the meeting rooms. When I arrived there was a very large man standing guard on the door. I started to enter and he stopped me. "There's a private meeting in that room, sir." "Yeah, I know. I'm Stan Malone and I'm supposed to be in there." After the goon checked my ID he knocked on the door. It opened slightly and he said, "Mr. Malone is here, sir." I didn't hear what was said but the door closed. The goon turned to me and said, "I have to search you sir. Would you please empty your pockets in the tray here?" After I emptied my pockets I was patted down. I began to get angry and demanded to know why I was being searched. The goon grinned and said, "Well, sir, people have been known to try and assassinate political figures and Mr. Douglas doesn't want to take any chances." I strongly suspected I was being searched for a recorder or wire, but I didn't ask. I had rather long hair and the small transmitters I carried were secreted in it, glued to my scalp. After being searched it was almost five minutes before the door opened and I was allowed to enter the meeting room. When I got inside the room I saw Heather sitting at a table looking over at me. She looked very guilty and her face and chest were very flushed. Her nipples were tenting out her thin top and she had the fresh fucked look I used to see on her so frequently. I felt my anger surge just knowing what she had probably been doing. When Heather moved to sit down I saw she was wearing no panties and had a white substance draining from her deep red, slightly open cunt. I looked over at Jonathan and I almost lost control of myself. His eyes were sparkling and he was smirking. I knew he was gloating about having just fucked my wife. He was watching her crotch and I knew he could tell I had seen the evidence of her recent activity. The meeting went much as Sally and I suspected it would. Jonathan threatened me first with dismissal from my job, then with bodily harm if I did not give Heather a better settlement offer and drop my stated plans to file lawsuits against him and his campaign. I leaned back in my chair and said, "Listen to me, Mister. I know you and your friends may be able to get to me, perhaps to injure or kill me, but that won't save you. I have taken precautions and have several packages ready to mail if ANYTHING happens to me or my family. Even if I am injured in an accident those packages get mailed. You know as well as I do that you cannot control every media outlet in this country. Some of them will be published, especially if I am injured seriously or dead. You will go down." I watched the anger flush Jonathan's face and saw the tightness I had learned years ago meant Heather was furious. I smiled at them and continued talking, "I know what you did just before I came in here and I have pictures of you doing it several other times. Hell, I even have pictures and recordings of your meeting last week at the Doubletree with the union and senior members of the city administration. Do you really think all those gentlemen will thank you for dragging them down with you? I can assure you that if something happens to me the documents that will be mailed will have information on them and my wife as well as on you. We both know many of them associate with, shall we say, dangerous men to cross?" Heather was staring daggers at me and I thought Jonathan looked slightly ill. He tried to bluster and said, "You heard what I said. Drop your threats and do this on the quiet or else. Now get your ass out of here. I've had my say." I smiled and stood. I stared Jonathan in the eyes until he began looking worried. I could tell it was all he could do to continue staring back at me. I laughed and turned to walk toward the door. When I opened the door I stopped once more and said, "You know, Jonathan, I might reconsider if I was assured of a VERY fair settlement from my wife in the divorce. Hell, if the idiots in this city decide to elect you they deserve what they get." I went straight home and when I got there I found my PI friend waiting on me. He and the FBI agent were visiting. They both removed and took custody of their microphones. My PI said, "We got it all and the conversation Jonathan had with your wife and his friends after you left. He put a tail on you with orders to watch you and report back to him if they could find anything detrimental about you at all. You have him very, very worried." I waited three days then made sure my tail from Jonathan was beside me when I made a phone call to my attorney. We discussed the divorce first then as I was closing the call I said, "Sally, I'm tired of waiting on the asshole. I told him and Heather what it would take for me to go away and so far they are both stonewalling me. Prepare the papers and file the suit against Jonathan. I think we need to go with a higher figure. Let's ask for $10,000,000. That should get his attention and splash everything all across the news." I laughed to myself when I saw the goon tailing me drop back and grab for his cell phone. I watched him excitedly talking and gesturing. I got in my car and drove straight home. I hadn't even finished my supper that evening when I received a phone call from Jonathan. He never admitted his man heard me tell Sally to file the lawsuit. He said, "Listen, asshole. Heather and I have been discussing our meeting and we've decided to give you some of what you asked for. She will sign the divorce papers you gave her with no changes. She will leave your marriage with only her personal property and her retirement from her job. I have decided to make you an out of court, voluntary settlement if you will assure me none of this will get out." "Well, Shithead, all I can do along those lines is promise you that I won't be the one to let things slip. Naturally, I can't promise no one will let the cat out of the bag. I mean, there are probably hundreds of people now who know you fuck my wife." "OK, here's the deal. You sign a non disclosure agreement and I deposit a million dollars in your account, no questions asked. Heather turns in the divorce paperwork signed agreeing to the settlement you proposed." I laughed and said, "Hell, that's chump change. I just instructed my attorney to file for ten million dollars in damages. I know I probably won't get that, but you have to do a lot better than a million before I'll drop the lawsuit. Hell, I can make more than a million from book and movie rights if I sell the story." "OK, OK. I think I can come up with a little more but not much more. How about $1.7 Million? I think I can swing that without anyone saying too much. I'll figure out some way to show it was spent on the campaign. That's my top offer, though." "OK, but we need to move on this. I won't tell my attorney to stop her work until I see the money in my bank account. Here are the numbers of a secret account in the Cayman Islands." I didn't tell him I had opened the account in his name and used his mailing address. I hoped the federal investigators would find that and follow the trail of the money from his campaign to the bank. Of course I planned on moving the money the day it arrived so it could not be recovered. Later that evening I heard my door bell ring. When I got there I saw the same man who was guarding the door during my meeting with Jonathan and Heather. He looked at me and held out a clipboard with a one page legal document on it. He said, "Mr. Douglas told me to bring this for you to sign." I read the document then looked up at him. I said, "It looks fine to me but before I sign I need to discuss it with my attorney." "Well I aint supposed to leave without it." I sighed and closed the door in his face. I went to my office and called Sally. When I explained the problem she agreed to come to my home and look over the document. It took her almost an hour to get there but after she read the document she smiled and told me to sign it. Three days later I found the Cayman account balance showed $1,700,000. The same day I got a phone call from my attorney saying Heather had returned the signed divorce agreement and it was filed. Since the divorce was uncontested it should be final in thirty days. I had already moved the money from the Cayman account in case the asshole tried to get it back. I moved it around the world twice, then placed it in a different account in another Cayman bank under another false name. I continued to work throughout these trying times but my production suffered. My commissions were nearly half what they normally were and it was not all due to the poor economy. Many times one of my coworkers covered for me and they got the commission on the sales and purchases my clients made. After the divorce was final I still could not get my head straight. I made more mistakes at work and that cost me. If I bought or sold something wrong for a customer I had to make good on the deal. I was sick of always looking over my shoulder to be sure no accident was heading my way. I was afraid that at some point Jonathan and his friends would decide to chance it and hurt me for what I had done to him. I was especially worried about revenge when the Feds finally moved against all the players. Just Desserts One evening I was sitting at home wondering how my life could go to hell so fast when the doorbell rang. It was after nine p.m. When I answered the door I saw Heather standing there. She was crying and had a large red spot on her face. I could tell she would have a hell of a bruise by morning. She looked at me then her gaze dropped to the floor. She said, "Stan, please, can I talk to you?" I almost told her no and slammed the door in her face but then decided to see what could have possibly caused her to come to me for a conversation. I stepped back and motioned her inside. I didn't say a word; I just led her back into the den and sat in my chair. I still had the surveillance cameras operating and wanted to talk there where the picture would be better. I made sure to direct her to the couch so the cameras would get the best shot of her. Heather sat and looked at me crying silently. Finally she said, "Stan, I know it's too late but-I finally-" Heather took a deep breath and continued, "I want to apologize to you for what I did to us. I knew better but somehow that bastard got through my defenses. You know how I like to flirt and how much I want to succeed. Somehow he knew just which of my buttons to push and I fell so madly in love with him. It was like he was perfectly in tune with me and I just couldn't tell him no. I was so excited about the high powered job he promised me after the election if I helped him that I lost sight of us." Heather was crying loudly now. She looked at me and said, "You know how angry I got with you New Years Eve when you tried to separate us? Oh, Stan, you were already too late the last time you pulled me away from Jonathan. We had just come back into the room from one of Doug's bedrooms. That bastard talked me into fucking him slightly less than three hours after I met him. I'm so sorry!" "It only took three weeks of running around behind your back before I was convinced I needed to be totally in his camp. He promised to divorce his wife and marry me after the election. He told me he couldn't file the divorce beforehand because it might cost him the election. I fell in love with the thought of being married to the Mayor, and, perhaps later a Senator or a Governor. After the trouble you caused I began feeling like Jonathan was pulling away from me. Tonight at the office I caught him in the stock room with one of the young college girls that are volunteering." "You were right as usual, Stan. He was filling her head with the same crap he filled mine with. He promised to leave his wife and marry her as soon as the election was over. I confronted them and he laughed at me. He asked me what gave me the idea he would ever marry an old used up whore like I was, especially one that had a history of cheating on her husband and doing gang bangs. He told me if I was nice to him he would keep me around and I could live the good life as his social secretary. He laughed at me and said I could entertain some of his more important contributors like I had in the past. His new whore laughed at me and I slapped him. Then he hit me." "Stan, I know it's too late for us, but I wanted you to know I finally figured it out and I wanted to apologize for what I did to us- to you, really. Stan, if you could find it in your heart to forgive me I would really love to get back together. I knew I had a good man but there was just something about Jonathan I couldn't resist. I became so excited when I thought about maybe living the big life with him I lost all sense of reason." Heather looked at me a moment longer. I watched as silent tears coursed down her cheeks. Finally, she gave me a hesitant smile, stood and walked up beside my chair. Heather bent forward and gave me a gentle kiss on the cheek then ran from the room and out of the house. I sat in shock for a moment before I walked to the door in time to see her car drive away. I sighed and thought, how I wished she had come to her senses before she spread her legs for that asshole and his Union and Government supporters. I turned and walked back into the den. Several days later I couldn't take it any longer. I had to get away from all the memories and the pain. I put my house on the market and engaged a real estate agent to find me another one without the memories. I hired a crew to come in and pack up my furniture for storage. I hired another crew to clean the house and yet another one to take care of the yard. From time to time I would check back with Doug or Sally. They said the Feds kept control of the investigation in case the police were also corrupt. There was an agreement to keep my name out of the investigation and not use the information forwarded by Sally unless absolutely necessary. Sally told me the Feds found enough evidence of corruption they were willing to honor that agreement. Almost six weeks after I decided to sell my house I woke up to a news special on all the national news programs. The Feds had arrested everyone involved in Jonathan's use of Heather. They were charged with multiple counts including, but not limited to, misuse of funds, corruption, misuse of office, campaign violations and racketeering. Jonathan was arrested for misuse of campaign funds, improperly accepting donations in excess of that allowed by law, and selling rights to appointive jobs in his projected future administration. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, Heather was also arrested for some violations. I called Sally as soon as her office opened that morning to see if she could shed some light on the subject. All she knew at that time was that there were leaks from persons other than myself so it appeared as if I would be clear with Jonathan and his payment to me. Of course he could not get it back but if he sued me about the non disclosure agreement it was possible, even probable that I would win because the FBI and News Services credited two of the campaign workers for the tips that began the investigation. I just hope I was not suspected of informing on the union men. I didn't need a visit by unsavory characters in the middle of the night. I smiled to myself thinking how hard I had worked to surreptitiously slip incriminating notes and documents into the piles of papers some of the workers were processing. I did that numerous times when I was supposedly in the office looking for Heather. After I finished talking with Sally I leaned back in my chair and smiled. I had my revenge on Jonathan and I was free from a cheating slut with no cost other than my attorney fees. I was also $1.7 million better off because of Jonathan's largesse. Now I was free to find an honorable woman to marry and have a family with. Just Desserts "Strip," you say, standing, watching me. I obey, just a little shy; we've been apart so long. I fold each piece of clothing with care as it comes off and set it to the side, out of the way. My black bra and panties come off last, slowly, and then i'm standing naked in front of you. Again. "Turn," you tell me, your voice cool, your forefinger sketching a circle in the air between us. A blush heats my body as i obey, my feet shuffling, my breasts and ass and mound open to your eyes. You beckon me toward you and reach between my legs, testing my heat, and i shake a little at your touch. It's been so long since you've touched me, way too long, that time a thing of my doing, my fault and my responsibility. You kiss me softly then, with melting tenderness, then turn me around, my back toward you. Reaching from behind, you press a moist finger between my lips and i taste myself on you as i suck. After a moment, you draw my arms back and i feel the smooth coolness of the leather cuffs binding them firmly. Tears prick into my eyes as i surrender into the restraints, pulling slightly to test them. I know from long experience that my only way out is via your will. You direct me to the bed, pushing me onto my back, standing over me, looking, assessing, and reacquainting yourself with my body. You drag the end of the whip we bought one cold winter's day over my skin. I remember the humiliation and wild excitement i felt in that rough livestock supply store as i purchased the whip, sure the clerk knew i didn't have a pony to use it on. Smiling, you watched from across the store as i struggled for calm. You slap at the V of my legs. "Open." I do, widely, immediately. You flick the whip then, quickly, several times. It hits my mound lightly and smoothly, barely touching my skin. I gasp at the sensation and heat floods my mind. Before you've begun, you stop, dropping the whip to the floor. You shift me, your hands moving over me almost impersonally as you unfasten my arms from behind my back. Without haste, you refasten them up and over my head, slipping the chain that links my cuffs through a sturdy hook set into the headboard. Need begins to cloud my mind, my coherent thoughts begin to collapse and become wordless and primal urgings toward the flooding pain and wild pleasure I hope will come. You know what I'm feeling. You can see it. You understand my needs. You slide onto the bed next to me. Your hand strokes over my body lightly while i quiver a little beneath it. Leaning over, you kiss me again, softly, tenderly, with a promise of passion. I moan into your mouth, melting into you. Your mouth moves down my neck, licking and nipping, and i arch open, exposing my throat to your teeth and lips. I feel your mouth on my skin, your body against mine, and i yearn toward you. Your hand snakes down the front of me and cruelly twists one of my nipples. I cry out and you lean back, watching, your fingers still pulling and twisting my sensitive skin. I look up at you, your eyes bright with long-repressed need, and the silence flows between us. "Please ..," i whisper, then stop speaking as you twist more tightly. Meeting my eyes, your face is suddenly closed and cold and your words lash into my heart. "Please? Please what? I can fuck your cunt or your ass or your throat. I can give you pleasure or just take it. I can spank you, beat you, or mark you. I can apply that brand we talked about. You are mine." You lift your hand to stroke my face gently, then slap my cheek hard. The sound rings into the silence of the room and crimson heat blooms across my cheek. "You violated the trust between us when you left but, still, you are mine. That's not changed, can't change, won't change." Gently, easily, your fingers stroke over the skin you just twisted, touching the nipple that continues to harden. "Lift your legs," you tell me, and I do. You fasten cuffs to my ankles, the leather smooth and solidly strong on my skin, and then fasten the cuffs together with a short chain. Pulling hard, you haul my legs over my head, affixing them to a hook in the wall above the one that holds my hands. I burn with the stretch; my body is bent almost double, my ass and cunt are open and exposed. Only my head, shoulders, and upper back still touch the bed. I strain against the bonds, moaning, and murmur softly, "Please, please, this hurts." You say nothing but reach to caress my ass. Softly, you stroke my skin, over and over, touching my brown hole lightly, arousing me. Then comes a swift SWAT against one cheek followed immediately by another against the other cheek. Then another, and another, on and on and on, alternating sides, up on my hips, lower on the tops of my legs, your hands hard and heavy against my skin. My whimpering turning to pleading and writhing in my bonds, becoming louder, more frantic, until my ass is burning and bright red. You stop, spreading my cunt lips and press a fingertip against my wet clit. I gasp at the heat that spears through me, shaking. I try to buck against your fingers but can't move. I want to shove your fingers against my clit, into my body, into my ass or my cunt, but i can't move. As always, the control is yours. You pause and look down at me, watching me squirm. "I think my little slave likes this. You like this, don't you?" I only moan in response. Spearing hard into my cunt with three fingers you fuck them into and out of me roughly while i shake and gasp. "Don't you?" you ask. Words tumble from me then, moanings and pleadings for more, faster, harder, more more more please .. Master, please .. But you only pull out of me, away from me. I protest wordlessly, almost peaking, as you move away from the bed. You take a length of black lace from a drawer and move back to the bed, smiling down at me a little sadly. Gently, you lift and hold my head while you wind the lace around and around my head, covering my eyes. After my sight is blocked, i feel the cool hardness of my leather gag nudging my mouth. I open, obeying your wordless command, knowing you'll simply force my mouth open, force the gag into my mouth and down my throat, if i don't obey on my own. "Good girl," i hear, and i glow at the approval i hear in your voice. Your hands run softly over my ass, the skin there still tender and hot. "We're not done, slave," you tell me. I scream around the gag as a clamp bites into my nipple. Searing spiky pain radiates through my nipples and into my breasts as the other is clamped. Again, your hands move on my ass, smoothing, touching, and caressing. A couple quick kisses, your beard scratchy and tickly against my hot skin. "We're not done," you repeat against my skin. Again you move away from me and i can hear you sorting through the collection of whips and paddles and belts and slappers you've acquired or made over the years. In your voice i recognize the disappointment and hurt and anger staining the respect and love between us. I know i caused it, know that i hurt you more than you've been hurt in a very long time. I hear you move back to the bed and know you're standing beside it. "Punishment," you say soberly, a finger tracing gently over my face, "isn't fun. It isn't erotic. It isn't a thing I want to do to you but a thing that must be done. Nod if you understand that, b." I nod, recognizing the bleakness in your voice. Oh gods! Why did i hurt you like this? "Ass, thighs, and hips," you say, "Cane. Thirty strokes." You pause and i begin to wiggle and scream around the gag, protesting, scared. "That's ten for each month you've been gone," you say firmly, "and then we'll put this behind us." You step back and i still, tense and disbelieving. In all our time together, you'd never really had to punish me for anything. You'd had to be firm, of course, but i'd been a classic 'good sub', always a willing masochist and slave to you. I'd always tried hard to please you. Well, until i left so abruptly and hurt you so deeply in the doing. I hear the hot tight SWISH of the thin supple cane a fraction of a second before pain explodes across my butt. Arcing, tensing, my hands form fists against the wildly blooming pain. "One," you say. Another stroke lands high on my hips, welting my skin and sending me spinning into gagged, bound, screaming denial. "Two." Another, across my thighs, burning the mark of the viciously supple cane into my sensitive skin. "Three." Garbled, keening noises come from my throat as the blows continue raining down over my skin, hot and hard, demanding my immediate focus. Pain, not erotic, not fun, but real pain, intense and terrible, stabs into my soul and rages across my skin as the punishment continues. My nails dig bloody crescents into my palms and i scream my voice into hoarse tatters behind my gag as the strokes continue to mount. "Fifteen." I almost faint as the cane rips into my skin and i feel blood splatter in the wake of another blow. "Eighteen." Lost in the pain, i urinate and the acid fluid flows down over my welts and cuts and causes me more agony. "Twenty-seven," you tell me. Another atomic burst of pain across the welts and bruises and cuts of the former cane strokes. "Twenty-eight." Lightning jagged pain flays me open, the stroke hard hard too hard against already beaten skin. "Twenty-nine." I am shaking and sick, torn and welted and bloody. Waiting. The last stroke. The cane whistles down and .. stops. You touch it gently against my skin. "Thirty," you say, sounding ill. I sag in my bindings, gasping as you remove my gag. I try to form sounds but short, mewling moans are all i can manage. You remove the clamps you'd fastened to my nipples before the caning, rubbing lightly over my hard, bloodless nubs. I twitch at the return of sensation but it is nothing compared to the incredible pain that still burns white-hot against the skin of my ass. You free me from the hooks and remove my cuffs, then turn me to lie on my tummy. I smell something medicinal as you touch over my welts and cuts and bruises with a soft wet cloth. It stings and burns. I try to move away from it but am too weak and you hold me too firmly. Finally, you smooth a cool salve over my skin and then move off the bed. "Stand up," you tell me, "over here, off the bed." Slowly, made clumsy by the pain from the caning, i struggle off the bed and stand before you, crying but trying not to droop, trying to move toward acceptance. With gentle and careful fingers, you unwind the lace from around my eyes, permitting me light and sight for the first time since the punishment began. You frame my face with your hands, lift my chin and force my eyes to meet yours. Your thumbs stroke tears from my face. You bend to kiss me tenderly and I hear great pain in your voice when you speak. "Don't do that again." Just Desserts Just how we came to be going out to dinner at one of the most expensive restaurants in town is a story in itself. My wife, the ever-delicious Dianna, had spent the day working on a special recipe for our dinner. As I was coming home from work she phoned me. She was devastated - the dog had eaten our dinner. I probably wasn't as sympathetic as I could have been and she hung up on me, calling me a heartless bastard for not understanding … all those things woman say. I quickly went into disaster management mode. I rang the restaurant which we normally could only afford to go to for special events, booked a table by the window overlooking the bay and rang her back and told her to put on her best dress and I would pick her up in 30 minutes. She apologised to me, about 20 times, told me what a wonderful husband I was and promised to be dressed to the nines by the time I got home. She was true to her word. She was standing in the living room ready to go out wearing a red outfit you could easily describe as sexy with matching high heels – matching as in red and matching as in sexy. As much as I wanted to just admire the view, we needed to be at restaurant. So without any further exchanges we jumped quickly into the car and drove down to the harbour. As we left the car and walked to the restaurant she informed me that the top button on her top kept coming undone and when it did, could I tell her so she could do it up. I chuckled to myself … it sounded like a line from a Literotica story. We went to our table and sat chatting for a while as our order was taken. Dianne noticed that her button had come undone and asked me if had been that way when the waiter was there. "I don't know," I replied. "Look this top is revealing enough without the button open and I thought I would do something special for you and not wear a bra," she said. "So please keep an eye on it for me in case it comes open again." "Yes," I promised without meaning it. I really didn't know if it had been open while the waiter was with us, but I got a sharp thrill at the thought he might have been looking down my wife's exposed front. The matter was left there and we talked about bad dogs and good husbands and drank our wine. I am not sure exactly when but the button came undone again. I could see large amounts of her breasts and thought there might be a few Brownie points for me in pointing out it was open. "It's happened again," I said. "I don't know why I am telling you this since the view is magnificent. It must be because I am such a decent bloke." "Thanks," she said and quickly did the button up again. "I didn't realize it was this loose. If I had known I would have worn something else." "There's no drama," I smiled. "I asked for a table with a view and I am really enjoying it. Maybe next time I will take a bit longer to let you know it's undone." A moment or two later, Dianne reached for the wine from the cooler and the button popped again. I thought she would have had to feel it go but it was apparent she hadn't as she poured wine for both of us and continued talking. At that time, the waiter came out with our meals. There was no doubt he noticed the open top and because he was standing up his view would have been even better than mine. Again, I felt a frisson of excitement as his eyes wondered over my wife's breasts. Eventually, he left. I looked at Dianne and said "again". She quickly re-adjusted the button and asked: "What is like that when the waiter was here?" "Yes," I said. "I noticed it just as he arrived and didn't want to say anything to draw attention to it. But I didn't need to, his eyes were all over you …" "Oh dear," she said. "This is getting out of hand." "Well, it's hardly a disaster, you go topless on the beach, it's no big deal and I don't really want this issue to mess up our dinner." "You're right," she said. As we ate our meal, a massive seafood platter, the waiter returned with another bottle of wine. "Compliments of the house," he said. "The owner asked me to bring it over." I looked around and behind the counter a smartly dressed man was smiling at us. From where he stood, he too, must have been enjoying the view. "Thanks," we said. "I wonder what all that's about," Dianne said, as the waiter disappeared. "Do you really want to know," I said? "Of course I do," she said. "The waiter and the owner have been ogling you every time your top has come undone. If it happens again, who knows, we may not have to pay for dinner," I joked, well only half joked since we couldn't afford to eat at this place too often. "You're kidding," she said. "That's what has got us a bottle of wine." "A bottle of very expensive wine if you look at the label," I said. "I can't think of anything else." "Mmmmm," Dianne said. "Well if it's one of those parties … " I laughed again as we toasted the owner, turning to him as we did. As Dianne raised her glass, the button popped again. I winked at her and she said: "I know". This time however, she made no attempt to do the button up. Quite the opposite in fact, she leant back in her chair to drink her wine and a hint of nipple came into view. "Do you think we can get the dinner for free," she said. "I've had such a shit of a day that something like that would really make me feel better." "Well that's a matter for you," I said. "I doubt they're interested in seeing my chest. Dianne took a hefty swig on her wine. "All right, it's my treat," she said. At the same time, she motioned to the waiter. "My napkin has fallen under the table," she said. "Could you help me find it?" With that, she bent over, revealing just about every centimeter of one breast. The young man was startled at the sight but quickly found the napkin and placed it back in her lap, then departed. "That's the entrée covered my love," I said. "You know this really is a turn on for me, too?" "What," she said? "Watching other men watching you like this." "Well it's a win/win for everyone then," she smirked. "You know I am not wearing underpants either, don't you?" I noticed she had repositioned herself in her chair so that she was facing the main bar from which the waiter and the owner were operating, trying to look without being too obvious. Unbeknown to me, under the table, she had spread her legs so that her womanhood was visible to them. Once she told me about the underpants, I quickly figured what she was doing. "A girl could get terribly worked up by all this, if she wasn't just doing it for a free meal," she said. With her breasts and other bits flashing into and out of view, we finished off our meal. The waiter arrived almost as the last bits of the platters were gone. "Can I get you anything else," he asked, his eyes now almost out of his head. "I think I want to see the dessert menu," Dianne said, smokily … and surprisingly since she didn't normally eat dessert. This time, the owner returned with the menus … the buggers were taking it in turns. Dianne was very aware of that as she sat back in her chair to look at the menu. "I think the strawberries and cream looks magnificent," she said. "Chocolate mousse," I said. The young waiter returned with our order. He put down my chocolate mousse, and then lent over to place Dianne's dessert in front of her. As he did, she pushed out a leg and tripped him and the strawberries and cream went all over her top … and mostly over her bare chest. "Oh madam, I am so sorry," the waiter said, his facing turning the colour of the strawberries. "I will get you something to wipe that all off." He dashed off and returned, only to find Dianne had taken off her top, winking at me as she did. "Will you wipe the rest of me," she said. The young waiter didn't know wear to put himself, but then slowly moved towards her and rubbed, first, the top of her chest. "There's a fair bit here too," Dianne said, gently pushing her breasts at him. He looked at me and I nodded, then he quickly rubbed the cream off her breasts. "Oh look," Dianne said. "Some appears to have gone down the front of my skirt." Quickly, she removed it and there was cream low down on her tummy. "Could you wipe that off for me, too?" she said. By now, the owner had come over. "Is everything all right madam," he said. "I do believe it is getting that way," Dianne said. "If madam would like, we can arrange for her clothes to be dry-cleaned at our expense. And most certainly we feel it would be utterly inappropriate to charge you and your husband for dinner tonight." "That's very reasonable of you," Dianne said, handing him the skirt and the top. "Let's go home darling." At that, she walked out wearing nothing but her jewelry and her high heels. It was quite late, so there was no one else around, but it was still a brave thing do to. We jumped into the car and laughed ourselves silly. "I'll go back and get your outfit in a couple of days," I said. "No you won't," she said. "We can pick it up when we come here for dinner again next time." Just Desserts David came home late from work, his briefcase hanging from almost nerveless fingers. As he dropped the case to the kitchen floor and let his suit jacket drop over it, he took in the dim candlelight, and heard the first soft strains of music from the stereo. One of Enya's songs, no doubt. His wife of two years, Lila, was a huge fan. But looking around, he didn't see her anywhere in the kitchen or living room of their cozy apartment, and she didn't answer when he called out to her. However, the smell of the fresh plate of dinner did call to him, and his stomach answered with a ravenous growl. He sat down and tore into the meal. Sautéed pork chops, mashed potatoes drowning in melted butter, and fresh, hot biscuits, all washed down with Mogen David red concord wine. As he wiped the corners of his mouth, he reflected on how much better he felt. Lila was so thoughtful, making one of his favorite dinners like this...but the question still nagged him. Where was she? As he lifted his plate, rising to put it in the sink, he got his clue. On a napkin, under his plate, was a note, reading only: "Dessert is in the bedroom. L." Setting the plate back down on the dining table, he walked to the bedroom, and opened the door. The sight that greeted him made his eyes widen, and his jaw fall slack. Lila was there, laid out on her side on the bed, dressed only in a black garter belt and fishnet stockings. The rest of her lithe body was gloriously naked, from her dainty toes to her firm breasts and pale, swanlike throat. She smiled up at him as he took in the sight of her. "I know you liked dinner, honey. Care for a taste of dessert?" she asked, waving a bottle of chocolate syrup slowly back and forth, like a pendulum. All he could do was lick his suddenly dry lips and nod, dumbstruck. And watch as she opened the bottle and slowly drizzled the syrup over her smooth, creamy skin, making spiral patterns over her breasts, belly, and down along her thighs...and the sweet junction where her thighs met. David moved closer, loosening his tie, then throwing off his shirt. Tugging his pants down, he staggered to her, wearing only his boxers, and knelt before her as she offered him one syrup-sticky hand. He took it, and began to lick and suck the syrup from each slender finger. Lila smiled at him, and drew him closer. His mouth was soon cleaning her shoulder, then her collarbones and breasts. As he licked the syrup from her nipples, she stiffened and gasped in pleasure, grasping his head in her arms. His tongue moved down her body, cleansing her belly of the sweet, dark fluid, while the flood of pleasure he was creating in her was stirring up her own juices. As he teasingly licked the inside of one thigh, then the other, getting so close to her freshly shaven pussy without actually touching it, she groaned in frustration, wanting more from him, but being denied time and time again. "Quit teasing me, you bastard, and lick me. You know I need it!" she hissed at him heatedly, tightening her fingers in his hair and drawing his face up so that he could see the lust that burned in her eyes. He smiled softly, and gently lowered his face again, hearing a purr of approval as she felt his hot breath, and then his soft lips, on her sticky mound. He licked and sucked on her sweet sex then, cleaning the syrup off of her tender folds thoroughly, savoring the tastes that mingled on his exploring tongue, which now writhed deeper into her hottest chamber. She moaned and twisted on the bed, courtesy of his ministrations, her pleasure washing through her like a series of tidal waves. When his lips wrapped around her swollen clit, she felt the first pulses. When he sucked on it in a slow rhythm, she exploded into bliss, wrapping her legs around him and cherishing every ripple of sensation that he had brought her. When the aftershocks had settled, she held him, lightly stroking the length of his cock, which had gone neglected thus far. Reaching for the bottle of chocolate syrup, she tugged his boxers off. "Okay, love, you had your dessert. Now it's my turn." she said, licking her lips hungrily. END. Just Desserts It's just another boring night spent in front of the television, at least that's what you expect it to be. You're home alone and I was supposed to be at work but I called in sick. I really needed to spend some time alone with you. I didn't tell you I stayed home from work because I wanted to surprise you. As you sit on the chair in your bedroom watching the football game I pull in the driveway, park and let myself in. I'm wearing a very short skirt, a white "men's shirt" style blouse and a pair of high heels. I approach you slowly, letting you drink me in with your thirsty eyes. When I finally reach you I place my left hand on your right shoulder and swiftly throw my right leg over both of yours and lift myself onto your lap. Straddling your lap like this, my skirt hikes up and you can see I'm not wearing any panties. "Oh My!!!", you moan and begin to reach out. "NO! You may not touch - Put those hands down!!" I can feel your member growing and throbbing below me. I re-adjust myself and center my crotch over it so I can feel it better. Mmmmm, it feels sooo good! You lean forward, your hot lips kissing my neck just below my ear. You inhale deeply, drinking in the scent of my cologne. I push you back in your chair. I want you to watch me. Watch me............and want me. I slowly begin to disrobe - just for you.......and you alone. I undo the first button and as I do I lean in to you and kiss your chin, running my tongue over the stubble. Then the second button. And again I lean in, this time I kiss your ear, letting my tongue tease your earlobe. I know I'm getting to you as you begin to squirm under me. And then the third button and I kiss your other ear and tease that earlobe as I did the first. I pull the bottom of the blouse from out of the waistband of my skirt and unfasten the final button. And for a tantalizing moment I let the blouse hang open. Just enough for you to see I'm not wearing a bra. Reaching out, I run my hands up and down your arms, from your shoulders down to your elbows. Mmmmm....such strong arms! I can feel your biceps and triceps, firm, sculpted, developed by physical labor - not grotesque like some body builders. Again you attempt to touch me. "NO!! I told you, KEEP YOUR HANDS DOWN! NO TOUCHING!! If you touch me again without permission I WILL restrain you! Is that what you want? I didn't think so. Now calm down....relax......enjoy." I remove my blouse and let it drop to the floor, leaving me wearing only a skirt and heels. I kick off the shoes and raise myself up and place one knee on either side of your legs. I cup my breast in my hand and offer it to your lips. Lips now parched with desire. You open your mouth and draw my already hardened nipple in. "Oh......oh.......god!", I moan. I arch my back, bringing my breasts closer to you. You twirl your hot tongue around my nipple. Oh my god! I feel jolts of electricity pulsing from my breast through my body down to my pussy. "No! Stop! Let me go on........Please!" I lower myself back down to your lap........slowly............making sure to position my crotch over your pulsing and throbbing pole. Mmmmmmm...oh yeah!! I rub my bare pussy over you. I reach out and slowly unbutton your shirt, on button at a time, slowly.......tantalizingly slowly. I finish unbuttoning your shirt and pull the shirttail out from your jeans and let it hang loose. I slide my hands inside and caress your chest. I move them all over, up and down your ribcage, from your armpits to the top of your belt, then back up and over your pecs. Massaging in a circular motion for a few minutes and then up your chest to your collar bone and down again to your shoulders. I lean forward once again and kiss your forehead, your nose, your eyelids, your cheeks, your ears, your jaw, your neck.....working my way around to the other side of your neck. I continue the little kisses, little biting kisses all over your chest. I lift myself off your lap. "Easy now, luv. Relax. I won't hurt you, I promise you. Please, let me hide your eyes with this soft, silk scarf......There! See? No danger or pain. Just relax now and take it all in and let me please you. Be patient my dear. I promise you won't be sorry." I stand now in front of you in just my skirt. I wedge myself between your legs. I kiss your lips. Our lips part, our tongues each snaking into the other's mouth, dueling, spearing, sparring with each other. You jam your tongue as far as it will go......back.......back.........all the way to the back of my throat, almost gagging me. I respond passionately, my tongue stabbing against yours. We break our kiss and I step away from you Grabbing your belt buckle, I bring you to your feet. "Do I have to tell you one more time? KEEP YOUR HANDS TO YOURSELF until I tell you to touch me! One more misstep and I WILL hand cuff you! I know you don't want that. Or do you??" I unbuckle your belt and then unfasten your jeans. While maneuvering the belt and your jeans I grip the zipper tab with my teeth and pull it down. There! Almost free!! Just one more barrier to go. I reach out and through the smooth cotton fabric of your shorts grasp your swollen member. I run my hand over it...up and down.....tracing it's form with my nails. Are you ticklish?? No?? Then why is it jumping??? I run my fingers around your waist and pull the waistband of your shorts towards myself allowing your shaft to spring to full attention, the tip of the head peeking out above the waistband. I run my finger around the tip and with my long nail I play with it's solitary eye. You draw a sharp, raspy breath and seem to lose your balance. Oh dear! Am I being a bad girl, teasing the poor baby? I'm so naughty! Alright, enough already! I wrap my fingers over the elastic and pull down your shorts, and help you step out of both your shorts and jeans as a single unit. My gaze returns to your crotch. DAMN!! It's gorgeous! So hard and strong! I can't help myself, I just have to drop to my knees and bury my nose in your thick thatch of fur. It tickles my nose, but I love the smell of you! I inhale deeply, taking in the traces of the scent of soap from your shower hours ago, a bit of perspiration and the unmistakable scent of S-E-X!!! With all the self-control I have in my body I pull myself away, but not before running my nails oh-so-very-lightly over your gorgeous cock all the way down to your balls. I reach behind your sack and gently, gently bounce your jewels around with my fingertips and then finally run my fingernail over that area between your sack and your "back door." Does that feel good, Baby? Hmmmm???" As I stand up I run my fingertips up the inner part of your legs from your ankles all the way to your crotch.....oh so lightly teasing - but not touching your crotch. I take your hands in mine and guide you to your bed. We stop with your back toward the bed. I give you a slight shove. You lose your balance and fall backwards onto the bed. "Go ahead, move away from the edge, scoot over to the middle.............and wait." I remove my skirt and climb up on your king-size bed with you and position myself between your feet. Beginning at your toes, I kiss each one in turn letting my tongue trail from one kiss to the next. My tongue traces it's way over your foot, over your ankle, up the calf........trailing from the outside to the inside and back again. Right behind my tongue I trace your legs with my fingers. I get as far as your crotch....then move to the other leg, starting back at your other foot and working my way up again.....deliberately avoiding your sex. Don't worry baby, it'll be attended to soon enough. I move myself up and start kissing all around your crotch up to your adorable "innie" belly-button. I pause and run my tongue around it - oooohh wow! As I tongue your belly-button your cock jumps like a puppy happy for his master's return. I continue my ministrations, kissing you from your belly-button back and forth across your pelvis, my tongue trailing between kisses across your smooth skin. At the same time I'm massaging up and down your ribs and your sides all the way from your arm pits to your ass. Trying to tease and tantalize you like this without touching your cock is not easy, but it's such delicious fun! I wonder which of us is enjoying this more, you or me? I know that turning you on turns me on and teasing you is a turn on too. Oh baby, it's such a shame you can't tell just how turned on I really am! I suppose you could if I let you touch me. But it's not time for that yet. "What is it time for?" you want to know, don't you? Mmmm, just lie still and I'll show you................. Without warning I engulf your shaft with my hot, moist mouth. I'm not able to take in your entire rock-hard member, but you don't seem to mind. I pull back, almost completely releasing you, keeping only the head in my mouth. I encircle the mushroom cap with my lips and flick my tongue back and forth across the tip and then I plunge my tongue into the slit and wiggle it around in the slit. I can tell by your moaning that you're enjoying what I'm doing. Removing my tongue from the slit I again engulf your shaft with my hungry mouth, taking in as much of you as I can. I begin to fuck you with my mouth. Swiftly I bob up and down. I can tell how much you're enjoying it, your breathing becomes rapid and you start bucking your hips. Oh Baby, I love turning you on like this. I get such a feeling of power knowing I can take you from oh-so-soft to hard as a rock to a mind blowing orgasm..........Ohhh, but not yet baby, not yet. I release you suddenly and pull away. You groan as if you're in pain and in a ways I guess you are. I leave you alone momentarily. You can't see me but you hear me leave the room. You're wondering, I'm sure, why I've deserted you. Oh Baby, I haven't deserted you - not the way you mean it. But I WILL "dessert" you, you'll see what I mean eventually. You hear water running and can tell I've filled some sort of container. Your mind is spinning trying to guess what will happen next. I return to you. I set down the container you heard me filling.....a large bowl of hot water along with a wash cloth, a towel, a can of shaving cream and a razor. You can't see these items - only hear me setting them down and then you hear the squirting sound of the can of shave cream. The sound combined with it's familiar scent tells you what it is. You begin to protest. " But honey, I already........." "Hush......say nothing........just relax and let me do this for you." You're expecting to feel the lather on your face but when you feel the menthol laden foam on your pubic area you jump from shock while shouting "What the HELL??" I silence your protestations with a kiss. "Trust me, Babe, you KNOW I'd never do anything to hurt you. I promise you won't be sorry!" As you relax I continue lathering your pubic hair all the way down to and covering your balls. It seems to be exciting you. The shock has worn off and your cock is hard again. After you're all lathered I take the razor, wet it and begin to shave you. I start at the tip of your thatch of curly hair, gradually working the razor closer to your cock. Holding your cock with my other hand I hold it to the side and shave all the way around your cock and over your sack. Once I'm satisfied I've shaved you smooth and clean I hold your cock to the other side and proceed in the same way until you're as silky smooth as the day you were born. Taking the wash cloth I wet it with warm water and wring it out and wipe away all traces of the lather. You're still rock-hard and needing so badly to be satisfied. But I'm not finished with you yet. I leave you lying there - naked, blindfolded and granite hard. You beg me to come back but I ignore your pleas with a wicked smile you cannot see. You know better than to try to follow me so you just lie there and wait. As you lie there you can hear the refrigerator open...............then close. A few moments later you hear the microwave ding. Next you hear my bare feet padding back to your bedside. While you're waiting and wondering I set the tray I've brought from the kitchen down on the table near the bed and I set back on the bed next to you. You next feel something warm and wet dripping first onto your nipples, then slowly down your torso all the way down to your slightly softened cock. You don't know what it is, but you catch a slight scent of chocolate in the air. While still trying to guess what I have in store for you, you hear what you think is the shave cream can again. You begin to protest. "Hey, what the hell?? You've already shaved my cock, what else are you gonna shave?? Damn, Woman!" I give you a small sharp slap on the side of your ass..."Be Quiet!! Tonight you're MINE and I'll do with you as I please. You should know by now I won't hurt you in any way. Just relax! And it's NOT shave cream!" It finally begins to all make sense to you! You are becoming my *dessert*!! Then you feel the cold whipped cream being squirted around your nipples, down your body, into your belly-button, and finally all around your now-bare crotch and all over your cock. Then you feel me throw my leg over you and expect to feel my tongue licking the warm chocolate syrup and whipped cream off. But you don't feel my tongue. I don't lick it off. Instead you are shocked to feel me lowering myself onto your sweetly coated cock. "OH GOD!, BABY!, OH DAMN.!!.......WOW!!!" you moan as I slide down your shaft until I silence you with a kiss. I give you permission to remove the blindfold and when you do you're stunned by the sight that meets your eyes. By now both our bodies are both coated with the gooey mess. "Well, Baby, how do you like being my Chocolate Sundae??" "Mmmmm....love it, baby, but now you're gonna get yours too." At that you reach over grabbing the can of whipped cream and proceed to squirt it all over my 46DD breasts. I start to giggle from the coldness and of course you notice how it's made my nipples hard. I notice too and I lean over to let you lick them off. You not only lick them off but start to bite them and suck on them. You know hot and wet that gets me and you keep it up. So turned on, I start riding your cock........slamming myself up and down on it, driving it as deep as it can go. HARDER I ride you.............and FASTER!! With a near primeval scream you grab my hips, forcing me down on you as hard as you can and let go a torrent of hot juice inside me. I feel your cock pulse and spurt deep in my pussy. That's all I need to go over the edge and my orgasm crashes over me like waves on the ocean. I scream out my pleasure in rhythm with the spasming of my pussy around your cock, squeezing it, milking it dry. I finally collapse on top of you, smearing the chocolaty mess between us even more. You wrap your arms around me and whisper "Hey sweet thing, I guess we'd better take a shower!" Just Desserts Again he is going to be late. This is the third night this week and she is wondering what it is that he does at work so late. Finally at 2 am she heads to bed alone again and cries for what seems like hours. Suddenly she feels the bed move and she lays still. He is home and thinks she is asleep and she wants to keep it that way. The last thing she wants tonight is an argument. He leans over her and gently kisses her face. He wraps his arm around her and is soon sound asleep. "Damn him" she says softly to herself. He could have at least tried. This makes over a week with no sex. She was going to go crazy. Then she got an idea. She slowly slipped out from under his arm and off the bed. The sun was in his eyes, that was strange. The bed was set so that the sun did not hit his side of the bed before noon and he was always awake by 7, no matter what. He tried to turn away from the sun and found that he could not move. He opened his eyes and saw that his hands were tied to the bedpost. He turned his head away from the sun and saw his beautiful wife sitting on the edge of the bed watching him with a strange smile on her face. "Now you have to listen to me and pay attention. You are going to change. You will be home on time and you will fuck me daily. No arguments, no excuses. It is that or you can walk out the door and forget this marriage." She looked serious Then she leaned over him and took his cock in her hand. He sighed how wonderful her hand felt. It had been a long time since he had felt her hands and it was almost heaven. She stroked her warm hand up and down his cock slowly at first then sped up. His flesh hardened and lengthened under her knowing touch. "Oh that feels so good sweetheart. Mmm, I love it when you stroke my cock like that now suck it." She pulled away and slapped his erect cock. He jumped and strained against the ropes confining him. "I am in charge here today my love. I make the demands and the rules. You are here for my pleasure." He looked closely at her. She was different somehow. Not the usual meek executive's wife she seemed more in control and confident. That excited and worried him. He always knew that there was a strong woman in there trying to get out but how strong she was he was not sure and that is what worried him. And she had him right where she wanted him in her control. Alright he thought I will play along. "What do you want from me?" he asked quietly and he hoped timidly. A sensual smile spread across her face. Then she leaned over him and brushed one erect nipple near his mouth. He reached out with his tongue and licked at it she leaned in closer and he was able to suck on the offered treat. She closed her eyes and moaned quietly. She leaned closer and kissed his mouth running her tongue across his lips teasingly Another moan and she pulled away. "Now what I want from you." She again started stroking his throbbing erection. "What I want is you, here at home every night at a reasonable time." She leaned over and touched the tip of her tongue to the tip of his penis. She ran her tongue up and down the shaft teasing him until a deep moan escaped him. "And you will make love to me whenever I want." She took his 7 inches into her warm mouth and sucked gently just slightly grazing his skin with her teeth. He groaned as she pulled her mouth away and looked into his eyes. She was not sure if he had gotten her point. So to make her point she got on her knees and squatted over his face. She lowered her moist pussy to his mouth. "Make me cum and I may let you." A sigh escaped her as his warm tongue slipped between her smooth lips. He slowly ran his tongue over her clit. He moaned against her warmth as he tasted her wetness. She moved her hips slightly and he traced her hole slowly at first then as a moan escaped her slightly sped up until she was moaning and thrashing so close to cumming that she was losing control. He thrust his tongue as deep into her pussy as he could and he tasted her juices before he heard her cum. She started shaking as she threw her head back and screamed his name. He continued licking her until she started squirming again. She moved off of him with shaky legs. "Now darling it is your turn." Then she reached out and started stroking his still hard cock. When he began thrusting his hips up to meet her hand she leaned over and took him in her mouth. Her warm mouth moved up and down slowly at first then sped up until he could not keep his hips moving fast enough to match her. Then she stopped and sucked hard for a few minutes and began her up and down motion again. Speeding up she sucked him until she felt him start to throb. She sucked harder until she had milked every last drop of liquid from his cock. He lay there shuddering from the intense orgasm he had just had. He opened his eyes and looked at her. She had a satisfied smile on her face. "Do we have a deal?" she asked. He smiled gently at her. " I plan on being home early every day and I am at your disposal, can I get up now?" She smiled as she unlocked the cuffs. "Now that we have had dessert, what do you want for breakfast?" Just Desserts The lights in the bar cast a shadow over the man in a rumpled suit staring down at his melting ice. The glass was as empty as his future and just as cold. Well, he thought, at least he could fix the drink problem, motioning to the bartender to refill his blood-red mixture of vodka and cranberry juice. He pulled out his credit card and stared at the name embossed in the plastic: George Brown. A plain name for a plain man. George. Even the word sounded more like a curse than a name, followed by a bland unattractive color. Like shit. The way he felt after losing his job of fifteen years and wife of twenty. It had been a bad day. "Buy a girl a drink?" A seductive voice coming from an equally seductive mouth, whispered in his ear. Twenty-four hours earlier he would have politely refused, but twenty-four hours earlier he had a wife and a good reason. Now, he had neither. "Sure!" He exclaimed, slightly embarrassed. His voice sounded a bit too appreciative. George straightened his posture and tried not to be too obvious as he lightly combed his fingers through his disheveled thick - also brown- hair. "My usual, Bob." She told the bartender, who had begun mixing her Vodka Collins as soon as he saw her enter the bar. "I usually buy my own drinks," she said, " But it's a good opening line and you looked as if you needed someone to talk to. My name is Sandra." She held out a perfectly manicured hand which was attached to an equally perfect figure draped in a silk beige pants suit. The pleasure of her company was well worth the price of a drink, George thought, as his eyes soaked in the image which, thankfully, distracted him from his sulking. Her low cut jacket revealed just enough cleavage to be tantalizing but not threatening. Long blonde hair framed elegant features, highlighted by a pair of the most intense blue eyes he had ever seen.. "George," he said through a nervous smile. "George Brown. And yes, it is an old line, but one I'm happy to oblige." The bartender placed her drink on a coaster and George handed him the plastic card, never taking his eyes from the recipient of his generosity. Sandra slid the tropical fruit down the shaft of the paper umbrella and brought the juicy red maraschino up to her mouth. As he watched her lips surround the cherry, an unfamiliar sensation stirred in his pants. Damn, it's been a long time. "You come here often?" He joked. "That's good. What's your sign?" Her delightful laugh was contagious. He wondered what other delightful sounds would come from her delicate throat if he dared take the clichés in a more intimate direction. "My sign? Open all night." George joked in response . His hazel eyes emitted a hopeful sparkle. "Would you like to go somewhere and get dinner?" He held his breath. "I've already eaten dinner..." Damn! "...but perhaps you'd like to come back to my place for dessert?" Yes! She finished the last of her drink in one sip, put the glass on the bar and entwined his fingers with hers as his other hand signed the credit slip. "George Brown. I like it. Strong, determined. Like the President. Brown, like succulent chocolate." She closed her eyes, her tongue slowly traveled over her upper lip. "I love chocolate" "Me, too." He readily agreed. For the first time in his life, George wished his cock was a product of the Hershey company. It was a short taxi drive to her apartment but George felt they would never arrive. From the moment they entered the cab, Sandra never took his fingers from her mouth. She tenderly licked and sucked on each digit as if they were a gourmet delicacy. His cock longed to be attached to his hand instead of his groin, which she was completely ignoring. It was with great difficulty he was able to exit the cab and make his way to her front door. "I hope you were serious about chocolate. I do have a bit of an obsession with sweets." "No kidding!" he remarked when she opened her apartment. The living room was ordinary enough, except for the far wall which was decorated in early fifties soda shop motif. Her shelves were lined with every topping on Baskin and Robbin's menu. "You really eat this stuff?" he remarked, reading the labels on each jar. "How do you manage to keep your figure." "Oh, I only indulge on very special occasions, like tonight. Should we start with the hot fudge, or would you prefer whip cream?" Maybe I had this all wrong, George thought, disappointed, but curious. "Hot fudge sundae would be nice, I guess." "Who said anything about a sundae?" Sandra grinned mischievously and walked behind the counter where she filled a small bowl with a ladle of fudge and brought it before a very puzzled George. She dipped a finger into the bowl, rubbed the topping over his lips and began kissing the sweetness from his mouth. His response was immediate. The delicious taste of her tongue mixed with the sticky delicacy was beyond ecstasy. She painted a dark chocolate line down his neck and licked the path to his collar. George removed his jacket as her sticky fingers unbuttoned his shirt. She raised the bowl and poured a trickle of hot fudge down his chest, then followed the trail as it slowly dribbled towards his pants. "Wait." she said, pulling away from him. "I have more." Sandra reached behind the counter and returned with a can of whip cream, and another bowl filled with butterscotch topping from the warming tray. She left her bra and panties on the floor. "A little variety is nice." she said. Unzipping his pants, she poured butterscotch topping over the tip of his erect cock, followed by a squirt of whip cream. "Now, that's a sundae." She licked her lips and kneeled before him. She hungrily took him in her mouth, sucking and licking the concoction from him like a child delighting in an ice cream cone. She lapped the butterscotch from his balls, then returned to sucking the high calorie delicacy from his cock. Her hands dug into the warm flesh of his ass, pulling him deeper into her hungry mouth. George's senses were on fire. His body was drenched in salty sweat and his legs were beginning to shake. The heat of the butterscotch mixed with the coolness of the whip cream and Sandra's ravenous appetite drove him to the edge of the edge. Before he added another ingredient to her treat, she released him. "That was exquisite." she gasped, wiping the last bit of topping from her wide grin. " I could use a drink. Would you like something?" George was about to tell her if she hadn't stopped, she would have had plenty to drink, but he only weakly replied, "Vodka with cranberry juice if you have some, thanks." "Certainly. Have a seat on the couch and I'll be right back." Sandra walked to the other end of the room where more adult libations were stored in a tall oak cabinet. She poured his drink, adding a little something extra, and returned to the couch. "You really do like your sweets, I'm very happy to say." George took a sip of his drink. It tasted a bit odd mixed with the flavor of hot fudge on his tongue. "I admit, I do have a voracious appetite, but I also watch my calories. I'll be at the gym all week for tonight's indulgence. Now, roll over on your stomach. I'm going to finish what I started." George emptied his drink and did what he was told. Sandra had re-heated the fudge and it almost burned his skin as she poured it into the cavern of his ass. He had never experienced a woman's tongue inside him before and his hips began thrusting to the rhythm of her penetration. His stiff cock rubbing against the cushion, could no longer hold back. His orgasm ripped through his body in a shockwave of pleasure, immediately followed by an intense stab of pain. He struggled to move, but his body was paralyzed. He tried to speak, but found his vocal cords had gone numb. As his mind began to cloud, George realized it wasn't the hot fudge that caused the strange taste of his drink. It was something a great deal more lethal. "I told you I had a sweet tooth, George." Sandra said, "And you have the sweetest cock I've eaten in a very long time. I'm going to really need a work-out after this dessert." The last sensation George felt before losing consciousness for eternity was Sandra's razor sharp teeth tearing into his 16,000 calorie ass.