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Waiting

By: Anonymous Author



Jake was waiting. "I just think it will make the wedding night even better," he had told Lauren one night at the very beginning of their relationship. "I know it will be rough, but I think it will be worth the wait."

At first, Lauren had been somewhat spellbound by her boyfriend's decision. It wasn't often you found a eighteen year old guy who wanted to wait. And the fact that Jake could have had any girl in the school only added to Lauren's amazement. He was a healthy 6'0, with a beautifully muscled body and gorgeous dimples. He had a reputation in his high school as one of the "sweethearts," the tender guy who played classical piano when he wasn't starting for the Varsity football team, but it was agreed that there was something undeniably sexual about his sensitivity. His girlfriend refused to confirm or deny this assumption, offering only slight smirk. "I could never kiss and tell," she would say.

Lauren wouldn't tell, but that didn't stop others from guessing. She was a knockout and proved the old adage that good things come in small packages. She had a mega watt smile and curves that were, as Jake liked to say, "Absolutely edible."

Despite Jake's unchanging mindset, it wasn't unusual for sexual tensions to soar. both teenagers, contrasting their wholesome reputations, had long ago mastered their own sexuality. They used this knowledge to drive their partner to the brink of insanity, and mind shattering orgasms were not uncommon as the two hid away in the back of Jake's van.

One night, Lauren had a feeling that Jake's unyielding mindset might change.

"Hey, I've got the house to myself tonight," he had said. "Can you come over?"

She had giggled. "I'll be right there."

He opened the front door and ushered her inside, slipping his arms around her tiny waist and sealing her mouth with a kiss. Her heart sped up, her face instantly flushed, and he pulled away long before she would have liked.

"I rented a movie." He said. "You interested?"

"Sure."

She removed her coat while he started the movie, and they settled onto the couch, Lauren fitting herself into the space between Jake's arms and his body, resting her head delicately on his chest. He stroked her hair as the movie began.

She supposed his actions were innocent enough, as he did seem intent on actually watching the movie, but he was driving Lauren nuts. Every few strokes, his fingertips would lightly brush over her ears, sending chills down her spine and causing a pleasant wetness between her legs. She wasn't sure how much she could take--but she wasn't going to make the first move. She preferred waiting for him. She began peeking up at him, letting her eyes linger on his beautiful face, debating whether she was going to be able to resist the urge to lick his ear. She squirmed as her nipples hardened and the wetness increased. Finally, Jake caught on.

He glanced down at her as she stared at him. "You're not really watching the movie, are you?"

She shook her head and smiled. "Not really," she admitted. Jake grinned, shut the TV off, and pounced on her, thrusting his tongue down her mouth, leaning her back onto the couch as he adjusted himself on top of her. As his fingertips trailed down her chest, lightly hitting her nipples, he pounded against her crotch, his hard on teasing through the layers of clothing between bodies. Her hands shot down to his waistband to unbutton his pants.

He laughed at her impatience. "Let's go upstairs," he offered. She pushed him off quickly and ran to the stairway, glancing back quickly to make sure he had followed. He walked up slowly behind her, allowing himself to watch her lovely ass. He felt his cock swelling. He took a deep breath and tried to regain some sense of control before he entered his room, where Lauren was already stretched out on his bed, her hands roaming over her body.

"Hey, hey, hey," he said. "Let me handle that." He removed her hands from her breasts and replaced them with his lips, gently brushing against her swollen chest through the shirt she was wearing, enticing her nipples to protrude even further. He caressed the area with his cheek, refusing to obey her whimpers to just "take the damn shirt off." He bit each nipple lightly through fabric. She moaned. Finally, his hands slid up her back, reveling in the smooth, ivory skin, enjoying the fiery heat her body was already emitting. As his hands snaked up her spine, he pulled her close, kissing her deeply, making her moan as his fingertips just gently brushed the sides of her full breasts. 

Unable to resist any longer, she pulled her T-shirt over her head and forced his lips into her cleavage. Slowly, he licked large, wet circles around her nipples, soaking through the sheer cotton bra she wore. Her talented hands found their way to the waistband of his jeans, and she quickly pulled his belt off. She reached in and gently squeezed his cock as it strained against his boxers. As a surge of electricity shot through him, he yanked off her bra and viciously bit and pulled at her nipple with his teeth. She squirmed and drew in deep, ragged breaths.

Remaining clothing came off in only a few seconds. Lauren lay back on his bed, unable to react as Jake kissed down her stomach. She felt as though her pussy were on fire. His tongue couldn't get there fast enough for her liking. Unfortunately, Jake was a tease. He buried his nose in her pubic hair, enjoying her scent, refusing to caress her with his tongue just yet. His hands traced up and down her thighs. "Jake," she managed to gasp out. "I need you...Please."

It was all the encouragement Jake needed. His tongue dove into her inflated lips, pushing up into her cunt, stroking furiously, wanting to get her as worked up as possible. Her body started to tingle. She gasped as she neared the edge, as she grew detached from her body, gulping in air as pressure began to build from her legs.

He pulled away suddenly, rocking back on his knees and grinning down at her. "You all right, Kiddo?" he asked. "You're breathing kind of heavy."

"Don't stop," she ordered, her voice throaty. "Please don't stop."

Obeying her commands, he slid back down between her legs, this time, gently tapping her clit with the very tip of his tongue. She groaned her approval. Once again, Jake slowly built up the intensity, his tongue rapidly pushing her clit back and forth as the red flush turned a shade darker on her beautiful chest. He kneaded her breasts together, tweaking and pulling at her nipples.

"Yes..." she cried. "Oh Jake...that's it...Oh my goodness...Keep going!"

But once again, he stopped. She drew in a breath to complain, but she felt something hard strike her clit. She opened her eyes and looked down. Jake was on his knees between her legs, holding his eight inch cock with his right hand, guiding it as it struck her clit over and over again. Lauren could feel his precum mixing with her juices. She licked her lips, wanting the salty taste of his manhood in her mouth. He was gauging her reactions with anxious green eyes. When she didn't protest, he dragged his turgid mushroom head down her slit. Then up again. And down. Her muscles quivered each time he passed over her opening. She wanted him inside of her.

"Jake." Her voice was needy.

"Lauren...Can we?...Please...I want you so badly." He swallowed hard. "I want to be inside you."

She nodded slowly, not able to believe it was actually going to happen.

"You're sure you're ready?" he asked, not stopping as he caressed her slit with his cock.

She laughed. "I'm ready...Go slowly."

He nodded and guided his head to the very beginning of her opening. he slid only centimeters in, and her pussy went wild, contracting and expanding in an attempt to bring in more. He kept a firm hold of his shaft. She closed her eyes, warding off the orgasm she could feel boiling inside, because she knew it was only going to get better.

With tantalizing control, Jake let only a few more inches slip inside. As the warm walls of her cunt gripped him, he could feel his balls begin to quiver. He gritted his teeth and refused to succumb to an orgasm. He was determined to make this last.

"Jake. Stop teasing me. Please." Lauren was fighting for control as well, he could hear it in her voice. Without hesitation he pushed the remaining length of his dick inside. She called out, and the sound of pain startled him. Jake did nothing, holding himself above her on his elbows, waiting for her to signal the next move, as he gasped for air, twitching with pleasure.

Slowly, she lifted her lips and kissed him tenderly, licking the sweat off his upper lip. "Fuck me. Please."

And Jake began his assault.

Starting with a slow and deliberate rhythm, he rocked his hips back and forth, picking up speed, pulling out almost all the way and driving back in with such force Lauren felt it in her fingertips. She began to shake. Her legs tightened around his back, her pussy gripping and relaxing against his penis deliciously. He bit a nipple as he pounded against her, chewing and pulling as the tensions built up in his groin. He knew he was close. His balls struck her ass as he pulled out again and again. Lauren gasped and moaned, intense pleasure flooding her body, tensing her muscles, preparing them for what was coming. 

Her fingers gripped the muscles on her lover's back as she begged and cried for release. Slowly, she began to tingle, she saw white as her body was overcome with the most exquisite release she had ever experienced. She moaned and twitched, arching her back to allow the glorious sexual tension to flow throughout her body. Her pussy clamped down on his cock, and, after three short strokes that broke his rhythm, Jake exploded inside his first lover, crying out her name as he forcefully shot his cum inside her.

They were silent when it was all over, content to lie in each other's arms, buried underneath Jake's sheets.

Waiting



Dressed as a slutty catholic school girl, I knocked on the door. Jen’s father Ben answered the door with a surprised look and invited me in. My blonde hair was in pig tails tied with bright red bows that matched the bra underneath the white oxford dress shirt. The shirt was unbuttoned and tied at the bottom exposing my cleavage and navel. I found a dark plaid skirt and shortened it to just above my thighs. White knee stocking covered my calves and I wore clunky platform paten leather heels on my feet. 

I applied tons of eye liner and dark shiny lip stick and nail polish to pull off the whore look. I was supposed to meet Jen and drive up to a Halloween party. I don’t think he expect me to look like I did. Her Dad explained that she was going to be late due to some kind of crisis at work. He handed the phone to me and I dialed her work number. Jen said that she would be at least an hour and had tried to call to let me know but I had already left for her house. Jen lived in the apartment above her Fathers house to save money while she was going to school. 

I had always been attracted to Jen’s Dad, he was very rugged with graying hair and smiling blue eyes. We sat in the living room and talked while I waited for Jen. Her Mom had left him five years ago running off with her business partner. He offered me dinner that he had been cooking and we moved into the kitchen. I sat at the breakfast bar while he finished cooking. 

I got up and pulled silverware and plates out to set the table. I dropped a fork and bent to pick it up when I noticed Ben staring at me. I had forgotten about the thong panties I was wearing and he had a clear view of them as I bent over. I stood and his face went four shades of red as he apologized. I told him it was OK and that I didn’t expect any less considering the way I was dressed. He laughed and agreed. I also told him that just because he was twenty-five years older didn’t mean he couldn’t find me attractive and added that I had always had a crush on him. He blushed again and I took his hand in mine.

"When was the last time you went out on a date?" I asked

"Three months ago." he replied.

"You need to get out more and have some fun, get wild, get laid." I told him.

"Laid?" he stammered blushing again. " It’s hard enough meeting women let alone have a relationship."

"Who said anything about a relationship, I know plenty of women that would sleep with a good looking guy like you just for fun." I said.

"A one night stand is not want I need." He replied.

"I’m talking about a friendly relationship for fun and sex only, no strings." I said gripping his big hand tighter. " We’re friends, right?"

I kissed him lightly on the lips and slid my hand to his crotch. He backed away and I held his hand tight, saying that it was OK.

"Look Ben I’ve wanted you for a long time and I know you have needs and that you’re attracted to me." I explained. " I don’t want anything from you other than a good time. Right now I don’t have the time for a relationship but I do need the occasional roll in the hay." 

Ben looked at me and said " You shouldn’t be getting it from an old guy like me, especially me, I’ve know you since you were twelve."

"I want you, guys my age don’t want a friend they want a fuck toy, you and I can be friends too."

I said unbuckling his belt. 

I kissed him again and slid to my knees. Ben stared to resist but once I had pulled his cock free and into my mouth his head leaned back and his resistance was over. His cock was thick and veiny as it grew in my wet mouth. I sucked the bulging head, swirling my tongue around, sliding my small manicured hand along the saliva slick shaft. I released him from my lips and smiled up at him, then wrapped my lips around the throbbing head and continued sucking. With my free hand I nudged the thong over and buried two fingers into my moist pussy. Tasting the tiniest bit of pre cum I stood up and leaned over the dining room table tugging my thong to my ankles. 

"It’s OK." I breathed "Fuck me." 

Without a word Ben step behind me and sank his stiff cock all the way into me. I grunted as it hit the limits of my hole. I gripped the sides of the table as Ben pounded into me. 

I moaned loudly for him to fuck me. "Oh yeah, Fuck me, Fuuuuuuuck Meeeeeeeeee!"

I reached inside my bra and pinched my nipples. Ben had his strong hands around my hips slamming into my swollen wet pussy. I didn’t care if I came, I just wanted Ben to get off on me. My head was swimming with ecstacy and I felt my orgasm build just thinking about the load he must have built up. I came shuddering violently screaming louder for Ben to fuck me. I felt streams of my juices run down my quivering legs. 

"Oh God!" Ben moaned.

I knew he was going to cum, and I wanted to taste every drop of it. I pushed him back and fell to my knees engulfing his pussy soaked cock. His cock head swelled and release a torrent of cum down my throat. I swallowed several times trying to keep up with his flow of sperm but it still ran from the corners of my mouth and down my chin to my cleavage. I drained him and leaned back on my heels smiling up at him, cum still glistening on my chin and lips. Weak in the knees he stumbled back leaning against the breakfast bar.

"You don’t know how much I needed that Lora." Ben panted "Thank you."

"Thank you." I said licking the cum from my lips. "You have a beautiful cock, and I definitely want more of it." I gave his cock a squeeze and licked another drop of cum from the head. 

I stood up and excused myself to the bathroom to clean up. I reapplied my lip stick and smiled at reflection. I made Ben happy and I planned to continue for as long as he needed. I returned to the dining room and Ben served dinner. We had a great conversation not mentioning what had just happened. Jen finally arrived home and quickly dressed in her beer wench costume and came into the dining room where Ben and I were finishing a bowl of sorbet. She hugged her father and apologized for making me wait and endure her Dad’s boring chatter. I objected and said that we had a great time and I wanted to do it again, with a sly glance towards Ben. We left the table and Ben walked us out. I turned and thanked him kissing him lightly on the cheek, leaving a dark red lip print.



Waiting



I check into the hotel, telling the reservation clerk that my wife will be joining me later, and to please save a key for her. We've set this all up beforehand, and I've checked in using your last name, knowing that the clerk will ask for your I.D. before she will give you the key. I ride the elevator up to the 21st floor, turning to the right as I get off the elevator. I think to myself that you are probably dropping your husband at the airport just about now, and should be here in about half an hour.

I insert the card key and enter the dark room, turning on only a lamp over the bed. I draw the curtains, looking out onto the lights of the city as they close. I go to the bathroom and pee, rinse my mouth, and wash my face. I sit on the side of the king-size bed, undress, and climb under the covers. I reach up and turn out the light, ready to wait for you to creep quietly into the room and join me in bed.

I lie here in darkness, thinking about you and I feel my penis stir. I know that you will be here soon and I will smell you and taste you and feel the warmth of your skin on mine. I will touch you in many secret places. I will bring you pleasure and feel love for you. I will hold you and kiss you, I will ejaculate into you and you will absorb my cum and I will become a part of you. And as I taste you and lap at the juices our lovemaking create in your vagina, I too will absorb your liquid and you will become part of me.

I roll over and press my hard penis against the cool sheet. I want to masturbate. I am already very turned on. I can't masturbate. I must wait for you and be ready for you when you arrive. Will you want me to enter you right away, then begin anew with foreplay until we couple again? Or will you want an hour of foreplay before I enter you. I do not know. It is always different. I can't read your moods, only react to what you ask of me.

I look at the clock. Ten minutes have passed already. Where are you now? Downstairs at the desk? Still in traffic? This is such a perfect setup. No chance of being caught. Your husband taking the red-eye to New York for a week's business. Only natural to hire the overnight sitter to stay with the kids while you take him to the airport. The overnight sitter is already asleep and will not know whether you return right away or hours later. We have hours. Hours to make love while your husband is in the air, gone and forgotten. Hours to feel your silky skin against mine, to hold your breasts and suckle your nipples, and taste your thick lubrication as I kiss and lick and suck at your cunt. I wish you were already here.

What time is it now? I roll over onto my back and eye the clock again. Fifteen minutes now. I close my eyes, and I see you. I see you in your red teddy, the one with the snaps in the crotch. I love to open the snaps with my teeth. When you wear panties I love to pull them aside and lick your slick cunt. Last time you shaved it for me. I licked it until it was raw. You begged me to stop. You begged me to fuck you. You called my name over and over as I drove into you in long, deep, pounding strokes. You came before me. And you came with me. And you came again when we were finished and I lay on top of you, my penis shrinking within you. I felt the muscles of your vagina clamp on my withering dick as you came again even though we had stopped moving.

Maybe I should get up and turn on the light in the bathroom and just crack the door so there is some light for you when you come in. No, you told me that you wanted me to wait in darkness for you. You want to come in, take off your clothes and slip into bed next to me. You asked me not to talk. Just start, you said, just start making love with no talking. I can't wait to kiss you. I can't wait to hold you. I can't wait for that moment when I slide into you. Tonight I'll tease you. I'll just put the head in and move it in and out a little bit. I'll wait until you are begging me to put it all the way in, then I'll slide it slowly all the way in to the hilt. Then I'll just barely move it out and then back all the way in. I'll fuck the very deepest part of your cunt with just slight motions. God, I'm so horny. I could come in about 10 seconds if I reached down and started rubbing myself. Can't do that, though. Don't do it. Wait. Wait for you to come.

There's a crack in the curtains and I can see a thin strip of light. It's reflecting off the wall above me. I get up, my hard cock sticking straight out, and pull the curtains all the way closed. I crawl back in bed. That's better. Now there is no light in the room. Now it's completely dark.

I wonder if we'll ever be together. Will you leave your husband? Probably not. I wish you would, though. It makes me feel guilty to think that. What about your kids? This is pretty good, though. Just sex. Really good sex, too. I wonder if we'd make a good couple. Going out to dinner and to the theater. I wonder if your kids would like me. Probably. Well, they might not like that I've replaced their father. But that's not going to happen, anyway. You won't leave him. You say you want to, but deep down we both know you won't. That's o.k. God, I wish you'd get here.

I reach down and take a slow stroke on my cock. God, that feels good! I bend it a little to the left. Oh! That feels too good! Better stop or I won't be able to. When you get here, I'm going to lick you and get into a 69 with you. We did that once and you got really, really wet. You obviously liked it. You were licking me and sucking on me frantically as I licked and sucked the juices out of your pussy. I stuck my finger just a little way up your ass and you came. I don't know what made me do that, I'd never done it before to anyone, but you liked it. Obviously. Oh, I didn't take off my watch, I don't want to scratch you. I'll take it off and put it on the bedside table. Don't forget it when you leave!!! 

God, where are you? I am so fucking horny. This waiting is killing me. Your pussy. Your wet, soft, pretty pussy. It will be here soon. Sit on my face. Ooh, I'd like that. Sit on my face and rub your pussy all over it. Rub your clit on the tip of my nose and come all over my face. Oh, man, I can't wait. Where are you? 

I hear the click of the card key sliding into the door, and I see the wedge of light on the wall as you open the door and pass inside. The wedge of light disappears as you close the door. I hear you walk across the room, and I get a faint whiff of your perfume. Your beautiful, sexy cunt, I want it. I listen as you take your clothes off, and I slide over to the far side of the bed. You draw back the covers and the bed moves as you lay down next to me, and pull the covers up over you.

My wait is over. You are here.



Waiting



Waiting! She was so tired of it! He was supposed to have been here hours ago...She was beginning to worry that he wouldn't come. They had planned the whole thing out together- he would fly to the city, where he wanted to rent a car and drive to her home far away in the country. She had told him how to get here. Had she left anything out? She wracked her brain trying to remember, back through last night's sleeplessness and his call of the morning before. No, she thought, I didn't forget to tell him anything. 

She paced the floors of her large house, wondering what was going to happen. She had met him on the Internet; but never in real life. This would be the first time. This would also be the first time she had ever done any of the things she had told him she wanted to. She wondered- if she told him she didn't like it, would he stop? She had heard all sorts of stories of horrible things happening to people who were stupid enough to do what she had done- meet someone from the chat rooms in her own home. She was beginning to think that if he ever did arrive here, she might have to just send him back home to Scotland.

Slowly a hand crept round her neck. As she drew breath to scream, another hand was placed over her mouth.

"I've been watching you for three hours," he breathed into her ear. "I was waiting for you to get scared. Are you?"

She nodded her head and tried to turn round and look at him. He wouldn't let her, so she tried to wriggle free of his iron grasp. It was impossible. She was starting to spiral upward into a state of panic, her breath getting faster and faster, heart beat hurting her chest. 

"Good," he whispered. His breath was hot on her ear. "Now, listen to me. There is no turning back from here. It cost me a lot of money to get here, and I'm going to get a return on my investment. And nothing you do will make it otherwise. Are we clear?"

She nodded again. Oh dear God, she thought, I have gotten myself into trouble for sure now, what will I do? 

"If you're thinking of calling the police, don't bother. I've disabled your telephone line." She could hear a smile in his voice as she wished to herself that she hadn't chosen to live so far away from other people. Now he took his hand off her mouth, but the other one remained on her throat, gently squeezing, as if he were thinking about strangling her but wasn't quite sure he wanted to yet. His fingers were smooth, and she was surprised to feel a rush of wetness between her legs as his other hand slid down her body. 

He was leading her toward her bedroom. How did he know, she wondered. He couldn't unless he was already in here...oh no, he was in my house the whole time. He grabbed her hair and pulled her along, using it like a leash. When they arrived there he threw her roughly down onto her green metal four poster bed and stood over her, smiling evilly. This was the first time she had ever seen him aside from pictures, and she felt another rush of wetness. He looked like Billy Idol , all dressed in black and grinning like the devil himself. She was a bit embarrassed at herself, and she blushed. 

"Well," he said. "Let's get those clothes off, I want to see what I've bought."

"Wait! You just—we—I "

He shook a long slim finger at her. "Remember what I said, Pet. And I will make you miserable if you don't do as I say..."

Slowly she took off her clothes, choking back tears as she finished. 

He studied her carefully for a minute , his eyes making her skin crawl as they crept greedily over her breasts and lower down.

"Very good, little one. Very good indeed. I am going to enjoy this quite a lot, I think."

She tried to cover herself with her arms, until she realized what a futile gesture it was. The tears started to fall, and she realized that her crying was turning him on even more. She saw a huge bulge in his trousers, and wondered if she would be able to stand it when he started.

"Knees, " he said. She stared at him blankly for a minute, then slowly sank down onto her knees with her back to the bed. He freed his cock from the tight confines of his underwear and she gasped slightly. It was so big...she didn't think she'd be able to take all of it in her mouth. He was also uncircumcised, which made it bigger around.

She thought she had better make this good, as he looked like he would hit her if she didn't. She licked him, up and down his cock, then his balls, then his cock again, moving slowly up to swirl her tongue around and around the head as she pulled back the foreskin. She licked the sensitive part under the foreskin too, and he gasped. Then he grabbed her hair by the roots and roughly shoved himself as deep into her mouth as he was long, making her choke. In and out he thrust, brutally, yanking her hair and groaning as he came near cumming. Faster and faster he went, deep and hard. She couldn't breathe, she was about to pass out. Finally, at the very last moment of her consciousness, he came, the thick ropes of semen sliding down her throat. She swallowed involuntarily; it was that or drown. He sat down on the edge of her bed, watching her gasp for air.

"Very good, girl." He smiled again and went around to the other side of the bed, where he had put a shopping bag when he arrived without her knowing it. He pulled a rope and a large knife out of the bag. Her eyes widened in horror- was he going to cut her? No, he started to cut lengths of rope off. About two feet long each. 

"Oh no, please, you're not going to tie me up, are you? Please don't..." she begged.

He laughed. "You wanted this, remember? Now," he grabbed her arms to tie her up. She fought to get away, and he laughed again. He was stronger, and they both knew it. She tried to hit him, and he threw her down onto the bed, lying on her to keep her still. Looking into her eyes, he kissed her deeply and savagely. She turned her head, and he bit her neck hard. A strangled moan of terror escaped her. He still had her arms, down by her sides, and he drew them up over her head. 

"You need a lesson, I think," he said. He held her wrists with one hand as his other hand went to her wet pussy and deeply shoved in three fingers. He could feel how wet she was, and it pleased him. Then , suddenly, he thrust his hard cock into her cunt and held her there while he fucked her hard, hurting her inside. She sobbed into his shoulder as the pain came on and on, in waves. She didn't know how he could hurt her like this, it had never hurt before. He knew her body better than she did. When he was finished he leaned up over her and asked a question.

"Are you going to resist me any more?"

"No," she whispered.

"No what?"

What did he want? "No Sir?" she asked.

"Good." Then he tied her wrists to each side of the canopy frame, leaving her suspended on her knees on the middle of her bed. If she relaxed her thigh muscles it felt like she was going to rip her arms out of their sockets.

"I was going to take it easy on you dear, but after that little demonstration of yours, I see that you want me to be as rough as you spoke of over the internet. With that in mind..." he pulled a black leather strap from the bag. She gasped. She didn't want to say anything for fear that he would do something even more horrible than what he was about to.

But secretly, in the depths of her mind, she wanted this. She wanted him to have total control, and she wanted him to hurt and humiliate her. She wondered if this whipping would make her lose control of her body and orgasm. Already she was getting more and more wet, and her cunt was aching in a good way from that painful punishment fuck.

He walked around the bed again, positioning himself to whip her. SMACK!!!! He had hit the strap on the wall, making her cringe away from him. SMACK!!! He hit her on the ass, raising a welt. Many more times he whipped her on the ass and the back, until finally she screamed, unable to stop herself. Tears poured from her eyes. After her scream he stopped and surveyed his work. There were lots of welts and bruises, and in several spots he had broken the skin. The blood ran down in tickling maddening drips. He smiled and moved around to the front of her. SMACK!!!! The strap went across her breasts, making her nipples burn and raising a welt all across. SMACK!! Across her stomach. Again and again, welts rose on her silky white skin. Blood flowed down her front too now, and he drew a red line from her throat to the small triangle of hair that she had left over her cunt. She sobbed and tried very hard not to speak, beg him to stop hurting her. But her pussy was dripping wet and she wanted him to fuck her. Even if it did hurt.

He took off his clothes and got on his knees on the bed behind her. She felt his long smooth fingers going deep into her, feeling how wet he had made her, and she moaned as her body reacted with a tightening and a thrust of her hips. As his fingers probed the hot wetness of her cunt, he quickly thrust his cock into her ass. She moaned very loudly and rocked back and forth. His right hand was rubbing her clit now, while the left came around and pinched her nipple savagely. As quick as that, she came, screaming his name and crying. She hadn't wanted to; she didn't want him to be able to control that too. But he truly knew her body better than she did. She felt shame wash over her like old dishwater and shivered. He laughed.

He withdrew and gave her a sip of water. Then he disappeared for a few minutes. When he came back he immediately began to slowly, gently fuck her from the front, kissing her face and neck. He grabbed both breasts and buried his face in them, kissing and licking, suckling her nipples. She came again, screaming even louder this time, wanting to die of shame and humiliation. He knew everything now...

As if he knew what was going through her mind, he smiled and said," You are a little slut, aren't you? I think you got what you deserved. And we have a week... You are going to get more...



Waiting



"Do I need to repeat anything?"

"No, sir."

"Good. I have something rather special planned."

He hung up without a good-bye. I had plenty of time to get ready but started to draw my bath immediately. I hated to rush before our meetings. 'Something rather special' hung in my imagination as I watched the tub fill with water. Was he about to start a new phase? As I lay in the hot water and made little waves with my hands, I wondered how in the world I had gotten to this place. This place with him. This place in myself. We had known each other for such a relatively short time. It had been little more than six months. Sex had never been anything like this before. I had certainly never been like this with any other man. I had never even imagined it could be like this. Just a few months ago I would never have been able to imagine that anyone really acted this way, let alone me. Not like this. I mean I guess I had had fantasies but this was real. I am not some stupid young girl. I am an adult, a mature woman. My God I am over forty. At work I am a respected professional. I am relatively intelligent and at least I thought a very responsible person. My marriage, my ex-husband, other men, it was like they had been from another planet. How could I possibly feel this way about him? What kind of love, what kind of obsession was this? No one in their right mind, no one in the real world actually lived like this. What kind of a woman would allow herself to be used like this. I was moments like this that frightened me.

What was worse, I now wondered whether it was really him who was always doing the leading. Was he still pushing or was I now asking to be pushed? Was it he or was it me who just wanted to dive down deeper and deeper into the darkness? At the end of our first real scene, after the agreed upon time had elapsed, it had been like we just popped back up to the surface like a cork. Like coming up from under water for a fresh breath of air. Then it was clearly he who immediately wanted to dive back down into the darkness again.

Now it seemed sometimes like we would never return to the surface. Each time we met we only dove down deeper and deeper. Down into the warm darkness. Down deep under water, leaving the light at the surface farther and farther behind. Holding your breath, going deeper and deeper. Now it was like we would never come up for air again. I now wonder if I even know which way it is back to the surface. The lack of oxygen has made me drunk. I am intoxicated and no longer responsible. I breathe but below the surface but there is no oxygen. We swim in the darkness, weightless and delirious with pleasure but how can one live without air, without light.

I waited for him perched on a barstool in the middle of my living room floor. Everything was precisely as he had instructed. Although I could not tell exactly because of my blindfold, I knew the room would be in little more than half-light. The only illumination was the single candle he had instructed me to light. I was facing the front door with the heels of my black patent leather pumps hooked on the chair rail. I held one hand in the other at the small of my back. My knees were splayed lewdly apart. I knew what I looked like. I was on display. Waiting.

I fidgeted and I waited. I would periodically drop my chin to my chest and then arch my back and lift my chin to the ceiling. It released some of the tension and kept by back from cramping. Then I would let my chin drop again to my chest. I waited and I fidgeted. Every few minutes I slowly rolled my hips backward and forward. The sensation of the benwha balls moving inside of me was lovely. They might have slipped out except for the narrow panel of my thong panties tight against my vaginal lips. I waited. No matter how I anticipated it I knew he would open the door without warning and startle me. The knowledge that I was sitting here like this just 10 feet in front of my unlocked front door frightened me a little but mostly just added to my anticipation.

What if some stranger walked down the hall and tried the door? Here I sat, blindfolded, all dressed up in black lingerie, on display, more naked than if I had been nude. What little I wore only accentuated my obvious role. His favorite black leather waist cincher held up my sheer seamed stockings. The tiny thong barely covered my freshly shaved and oiled pussy. My breasts were bare except for the makeup he had taught me to so carefully apply to my nipples. First I had to trace the edge of the aureoles with a pencil. Then fill them in with lipstick applied with a brush. Finally dust with blush and blot. My once innocently pink little nipples now an almost perfect match for the deep red of my lips and my fingernails. So, here I sat, the carefully prepared sex slave, on display. The submissive slut waiting for her Master. Waiting. I estimated it had been about 20 minutes now.

We seemed to be in a Waiting phase now. I had had to wait like this the last four times we met. I do not mean exactly like this, of course. How I was dressed, where I had to wait and my body position had varied but the idea of waiting had been the same. And the idea of being on display while I waited. The first time had been in public on the patio of a local restaurant. Then the only sexually overt thing been the same absurdly too high heels I wore tonight. That evening while having a drink after he arrived he had first presented the benwha balls to me. I really did not know what they were when he casually set them on the table. Then he proceeded to just as casually but graphically explained to me their use. Of course he then ordered me to go to the ladies room and install them. The walk back to the table was an experience. A lovely balance of surprise, embarrassment, pleasure and fear. Later the walk around the block to his car was long enough to really get my attention. 

That time he had had me wait about 20 minutes. The shortest had been little more than five. The longest thus far had been about forty. The previous phase had been Photography. The one before it had been Anal Penetration. Waiting was proving to be much easier than either of these. Each of them had been very difficult in the beginning.

From the first he had been very careful and gentle when he started Anal. He made sure it never hurt me. Not as part of that phase. He started with a long narrow dildo. He always used lots of lubrication. The discomfort was always more psychological than physical. I just did not think any self-respecting lady could say, "Please fuck my ass, sir." It was also that I felt my vagina had been abandoned. My pussy was the center of my femaleness. It was made for his nice thick cock, not my anus. It was all so pointless to me. He would tell me how much he loved my pussy as he pushed into my ass. He always made sure either he stroked my clitoris or he ordered me to, and I always came. He still licked and sucked my pussy with his mouth but he reserved his cock for my ass. I lasted for over a month. The position I came to like best was on my back with my knees drawn up to my chest. He would usually work on my nipples while he had me stroke my pussy. In that position, when I was not blindfolded, I could see his expression as he came inside of me. I enjoyed watching the violence and lust pour out of his eyes and be replaced with such tenderness. Before he came I was his but after he came he was mine. But why my ass? Then just as I came to accept it and even enjoy it he stopped. That, of course, was his point but his points just do not seem to make much sense sometimes. It was not like I ever really tried to deny him anything, my ass included. I had accepted him from the start. I had always tried to open myself. I had tried to relax. But for him acceptance was never really enough. For him there always had to be one step more.

Photography had actually been more difficult. I think erotic photography with settings and props and soft lighting can be beautiful. The fact that that was not what he wanted was obvious from the start. It was not beauty or even eroticism he seemed to want. He wanted a record. Physical proof of my sexual submission. Hands bound, cum dripping down her chin. Stripes on her ass from the crop. In bondage with dildos imbedded in her mouth, pussy and ass. Before the pictures, in the morning, in the light of day, dressed for work I could deny any of it had ever happened. But pictures did not go away. They could not be denied. They did not fade into a memory, which could be recalled as nothing more than a fantasy. No, pictures proved the reality. They were a permanent record. They could be handed to you and make the reality undeniable. That seemed to be a big part of what he wanted, but there was more. He also seemed to want to capture the moment. He wanted a record of the lust, the passion of the moment, the narcotic effect. When I saw them all I could see was how big my butt looked. How blotchy my skin was. That did not seem to matter to him. I came to understand that what he wanted was the look in my eyes. He wanted a record of my passion, my lust, my surrender. He wanted to hold forever that moment when I came. He really did not care if my hair was matted and sweaty. He did not care if my lipstick was worn away and my mascara had run. It was understanding that that finally let me get past it. I could never really see what he saw but it was enough that I understood his need. By understanding it I finally got to the point where I could at least try to respond to the camera rather than loathe it. That had been enough for him. We moved on.

I waited. A new record. It must have been at least 45 minutes by now. A little uncomfortable but easier than most of his phases. Arch your back. Stretch your neck. Roll your head. Move so those nice little balls bounce against each other. Feel them move as I move. Back and forth. But do get caught. Listen for him. Do not let him catch me rocking. Do not let him catch me squeezing my thighs together. Keep my hands behind my back. Relax. Calm down. Wait.

Oral Sex had been one of the easiest. I always really like it, even before him. For him it was my submission. His cock in my mouth. His control. His cum down my throat, in my mouth, on my breasts. Not for me. I liked the taste of him. The smell and taste of his maleness. I liked tasting and drinking his cum. I liked my power. My power to make him come. The position did not matter. Whether he let me control his thrusting or he just held my head and fucked my mouth. Once I learned to control my gag reflex it did not matter. It was still my control and his orgasm. It was still my lips, my tongue, my mouth that made him come. My mouth could shrink him right down to gentleness. I liked sucking him and I loved feeling him come in my mouth. We moved through that phase very quickly.

Still I waited. Maybe this phase would better be called Remembrance. While I waited there was nothing more to do than think and remember. I wondered what the next phase might be. I could guess but it scared me so much I thought I should push it out of my mind for fear of encouraging him. In my heart I knew I was probably too late.

Each of these Phases was defined by his obsession with the specific act. During Oral and Anal it had been the only way he would allow himself to climax with me. During Photography every meeting seemed to require a series of pictures. Now any of these activities may happen during an evening together or none of them. Other things were never so much a specific obsession as they were more of just a recurring theme. These were things like Bondage. I was made physically helpless for some period of time almost every time we met. The severity and duration would vary enormously. There were days when all he would do is tell me what position to maintain. "Lie down on the bed and keep your hands above your head." "Bend forward over this table and grip the edge." "Don't move your hands." Other times I might be tied with rope or chained so that I could hardly move a muscle. My wrists might be cuffed in front of me and then stretched above my head so that my feet hardly touched the floor. Bondage was not so much an activity as a given in our relationship. 

For him Bondage seemed to be the major symbol of my submission. For me it was more the costumes I was always ordered to present myself in. I had had to develop an almost entire wardrobe of clothing I wore just for our time together. Some of his preferences were rather obvious. He loved anything in black. Black dresses, black skirts, black blouses. Black Black Black. Always with very shear black stockings and high heels. And of course he hated pants. I was never allowed to wear them in his presence. Other things were less predictable. He did not like sandals. Even pretty delicate high heeled sandals. Instead I had three pair of shoes for dress up. 

One pair were pumps in grey suede with three-inch heels. This was the more conservative pair. The other two were the identical except for color. They were patent leather pumps with four inch spiked heels. One pair was in black and the other was in a bright red. The red ones never went out in public. They were just too obviously sexual. Typically my only underwear was a garterbelt for my stockings. He seldom allowed me to wear panties of a bra. No teddies, no French cut panties, no corsets. He did not have me wear my skirts particularly short. Nothing was much shorter than an inch above my knees but they had to be tailored and close fitting. He particularly liked one long mid calf skirt with a high slit at the side. For blouses he favored creams and white, particularly in silk. In general, when I was dressed for him in public, I always felt rather well and even slightly conservatively dressed except for my lack of underwear. I never felt he tried to make me look cheap or overtly sexual. 

My favorite outfit is a pale grey silk suit he bought me just last month. It has a long jacket just slightly shorter than the skirt. It is also my shortest skirt, cut at about two inches above the knee. The grey pumps are a perfect match for the color. The jacket closes with one button. I have only worn it in public once. He had me wear lace top thigh high hose from Victoria's Secret rather than regular stockings since the skirt was so short. We went to dinner and then had a drink at a downtown bar. That night at dinner I really felt I looked well dressed and attractive. And the whole time no one would have guessed that I had nothing else on. No panties, no bra, not even a blouse under the jacket. 

I was careful with how the jacket draped and it did not really show that much cleave. Then at the bar he went even further. He had me go to the ladies room and attach clamps to my nipples. So when I came back we just sat there like any ordinary couple and talked for about twenty minutes. And the whole time, unbeknownst to the world, all I really want to do is have him release my poor little nipples and fuck me hard. On the road back to his place he even had me open the jacket so he could watch the clamps sway with the car but he would not let me remove them until I masturbated to orgasm as he drove.



Waiting



She lay naked in the dark waiting for him. A cool breeze moved through the room from the open window. It swirled about in the darkness and found its way to her body where it danced lightly across the surface of her skin and left tiny goose bumps in its wake. Her nipples rose in response and stiffened. She did not know when he would arrive, only that she would be ready when he did. She was, in fact, ready now. She wanted him to enter the room and take her. Her legs were parted and she could feel the moisture between them. She longed for him to fill her up there. Restlessly, she shifted her hips on the bed. If only she could touch herself, she thought. But the silk bindings held her wrists and ankles firmly in their grasp. 

He had done this to her before. She loved it and she hated it. He would tie her to the bed and then leave her alone in the dark. She never knew how long he would be gone but as time passed the anticipation would take hold of her and her mind would fill with the possibilities. Would he return alone? Would someone be with him? Another man? Another woman? Each time it was different but, always, by the time he returned she was ready for anything and everything. Her imagination would shift into overdrive as she lay in the dark and memories and fantasies would weave their spell over her until she was fairly panting for release. 

She knew that was the objective for him. He wanted her to become aroused just by the anticipation. He wanted her imagination to take over. He wanted the memories and the fantasies to possess her. She often wondered if he was somewhere watching her. The thought aroused her even more. The excitement of his eyes on her was only exceeded by that of his hands on her. Sometimes all he had to do was look at her and she was seduced. 

She could not explain the power he had over her; did not even understand it herself. All she could do was feel it . . . and want it. Yes, she admitted to herself. She wanted it. It was why he could seduce her with his eyes. It was why she allowed him to tie her this way. He had never forced himself on her. That, she knew, was not his way. She gave herself willing and by letting him possess her she freed herself to go where he would take her.

Again the breeze found its way in through the window and moved the sheer drapes so that a splash of moonlight fell across her body and pooled in the shadows on her stomach. Looking down her body to where the light trailed off between her legs, she felt again the wetness that was growing there. It had become so copious that it had begun to drip down to the sheets beneath her ass. Oh how she wanted his tongue there to lick it up. She could practically feel the tip of it sliding through her wetness and playing at the edges of her pussy. A soft moan escaped her lips and she strained against her bindings again. Memories washed over her again. She remembered the time he had returned with the other woman. She had never been with another woman before but the feel of her soft lips and skin had been so exquisite and when the woman had kissed her way between her legs and began to lick her clit she had given herself over to the pleasure and screamed as the orgasm had overtaken her. She had become so aroused that when the other woman had moved over her face she had eagerly reached out with her own tongue to taste the sweetness there. When the woman had screamed and bucked her hips in response to the ministrations of her tongue she had felt a rush of power that was quickly engulfed by her own cry of pleasure when she felt him slide into her. Her muffled screams had reverberated against the other woman’s pussy as he emptied himself into her.

She shifted her hips again and another memory took its place in the forefront of her consciousness. It was a memory of the night he had returned with another man. It had long been a fantasy of hers to have two men touching and kissing her, exciting her. But she had never imagined just how delicious it would actually be. They had taken their time arousing her. Soft kisses, firm but gentle caresses, fingers and tongues probing her tenderly in all her most secret places. He had blindfolded her that night so she could not tell which one of them was doing what. The not knowing had only heightened the intensity of the experience. She had tried to detect differences. Her lips had searched for signs of familiarity in their kisses; her tongue had strained for distinctions in taste when each cock had slid into her mouth. But she had realized that as her passion had grown that she could not tell any differences. Her lust had rendered her incapable of discernment and she found that did not even care. After a while all that had mattered was what she was feeling in her nipples and in her pussy and in her ass as fingers and tongues had probed her even there. By the time they had mounted her so that she had one cock in her mouth and one in her pussy it had become enough that they were there and with her body and with her mouth she had sucked the orgasms out of each of them so that they could crash into and intermingle and become entangled with hers, which came one after the other until she could barely breathe.

The memories enveloped her and the wet spot on the bed grew steadily larger. Now the breezes from the window had found it and blew softly across it as if trying to excite her even further with her own moisture. God, she wished her would return. Then, as if in answer to her thought, a door opened. Light from beyond the door washed into the room. She turned to look but the person’s face was still in shadow. Was it him? Who was it? She could not tell for sure. The figure moved and the door closed and the darkness chased the light from the room once again. She strained to see but the brief flash of light had destroyed her night vision and she could not tell where the person was. 

Then there was a sound. It was on the other side of her and she turned her head. A figure was silhouetted against the window. A small breath of air moved toward her and she caught a hint of a scent. It was different than the smell of her own sex that had been steadily filling the room as she had remembered the previous experiences. It was a scent that she was familiar with. It was the muskiness that she found when she knelt between his legs. It was him this time. She could tell for sure. She knew that fragrance and she knew now that he was naked too. As if in confirmation, the night air moved the drapes aside again and she could see him in profile in the moonlight. His cock stood out away from his body like a thing with a life of its own. She suspected that he had been watching her and that watching her grow more and more aroused had aroused him as well. She licked her lips and pulled against the restraints.

The drapes returned to their place and she lost sight of him again for a moment, but then she felt the bed shift and knew that he was at her feet. With a sudden rush of excitement and dread, she knew what he was going to do. His lips closed over her toes and he began to gently suck on them. She squealed and tried to pull away but was unable to. He loved her feet, she knew that, but it was almost more than she could take. The feel of his lips and tongue moving over her toes and kissing the soles of her feet sent jolts of electricity up her legs and straight to her clit. She had never known how erotic her feet could be before she met him but there was no denying it. When he sucked her toes and stroked her arches she felt it in other parts of her body. It was as if her nipples and her clit and her toes were all connected and he could touch them all at once. She bucked against the restraints and squirmed as he kissed his way up her legs, paused briefly to blow warm air on her pulsating clit, and worked his way up to her aching nipples. He lingered there, kissing each one, pulling on it with his lips, nipping it gently with his teeth. 

She was gasping and begging him to take her but he refused to be rushed in his exploration of her body. From her nipples, he licked his way back down across her stomach and into the sodden valley between her legs. She was practically in tears by the time his tongue slid between her lips and across her clit. When it did, she immediately exploded into orgasm. She cried aloud and thrust her pussy against his face and let it possess her. He licked her through it and then slid the middle and ring finger of his right hand into her. She gasped again and clamped her pussy down on his fingers.

She felt him moving on the bed and kneeling beside her head. She felt the moisture seeping from it first, tasted the saltiness and then her mouth was full of his cock. Wantonly, she sucked on it as he began to move his fingers inside of her. He began sliding them in and out, slowly at first and then gradually faster. Another orgasm quickly began building in her and she screamed around his cock as it hit her. She felt him thrust harder into her mouth, heard him moan, and tasted even more moisture on her tongue. He stopped thrusting with his fingers and began to move just the fingertips deep up inside her, rubbing that wonderful spot he had discovered. Again, she began to rise on the wave and again her screams were muffled by the thick cock on her mouth. When he pulled it away, her lips were left with a plea for more mixed with the taste of his saltiness.

She felt his hands loosening the bindings at her wrists and ankles and moving her body until he was kneeling between her legs. A sudden rush of wind blew the drapes aside again and in the moonlight she saw him there, kneeling with his cock, still wet and glistening from her mouth, in his hand and he was guiding it toward her pussy. Then just as suddenly the wind was gone, the drape fell back into place, the room was again plunged into darkness and she felt his hardness thrusting deeply into her. The force of it caused the air to rush from her lungs and she struggled to breath. He filled her so completely and as good as his tongue and fingers had felt, this was what she needed. With words that were indistinguishable, she urged him on and he took an ankle in each hand, spread her legs wide apart, and thrust into her repeatedly and with ever increasing force until the orgasms were ripped from them both.

When he stopped and lowered his body down beside hers they wrapped their arms around each other and held one another tightly. Gently he kissed her cheek and whispered in her ear and she smiled and knew that he would always come for her and she would always be waiting.

Copyright by The Gentle Man, 2002



Waiting



Alexander Morden is waiting. He has been told to wait, so he is waiting. That's his task, right now. His function. His raison d'etre.

Plip!

A bluebottle lands on his left breast. He feels it walk a delicate zigzag down his torso, across his belly towards his groin. He knows he could shake the little beast off with a twitch of his (admittedly not too well-developed) stomach muscles, but he doesn't. It amuses him to watch and feel the creature as it explores him. Its progress is unhindered by body hairs, for Alex has none. It could wander, if it were so inclined, all the way to the moist slit of his prick, to the very tip, as easily as a camel crosses the desert. Alex smiles, thinking how good it would feel to have his cock tickled by the insect. His foreskin was pulled back; the sensitive glans was exposed and ready to be stimulated, no matter how lightly. But no. The shiny, tiny blue creature makes for his right thigh, then spreads its wings and buzzes off.

Alex hears it for a few seconds, then it falls silent. He wonders where it went. Maybe it's found the bucket where his catheterised urine is gradually accumulating.

Plip!

His nose has been itching for a while, but he can't do anything about it. Alex lies on a narrow, lightly padded bench, his arms outstretched and attached by wrist bands to the walls on either side of his cell. The bench raises most of his body some eighteen inches from the floor. Only his bare feet remain in contact with the oak-laminate flooring, held there by clips that link his ankle bands to rings on either side of the bench.

He can hear rats scrabbling around the cell. There are two of them. Sometimes they come to sniff at his feet. Alex isn't afraid of them - they're white rats, pets of his Lady. Alex sometimes thinks She loves them more than She loves him. But ah, he sighs, it's a different sort of love. As he lies there, naked and bound for his Lady's pleasure, he feels utterly secure in the knowledge that She loves him. Why else would She keep him like this when She's away, instead of leaving him to roam aimlessly around, doing God knows what?

The male rat is called Abelard, the female Heloise. Normally She keeps them in a rather luxurious cage, but when She goes out She leaves them loose in his cell. He likes that. They are company, of a sort, while he waits for Her to return.

Once when She left Alex in the cell to wait for Her, one of the rats found its way onto the bench and nibbled at his balls. That had been one of his Lady's little jokes - she had smeared some liver pâté on his scrotum before leaving that morning for her appointment. In his mind he now relives the exquisite dread he felt as the tiny mouth rasped at that tender skin, teeth so near to his precious testicles. He remembers the occasional swish of a cold, scaly little tail against his inner thigh. The recollection causes Alex's penis to swell slightly. He feels it expanding against the tube of the catheter where it passes through his urethra.

Quickly he blanks his mind, and lies still. No erections. She had made him promise ...

===================

Dressed and ready to go, Sue Morden picked up her handbag and walked purposefully down the stairs to Alex's cell. Alex followed, dutiful, submissive and naked as usual. She sat primly on the padded bench and started to peer through the handbag's contents while Alex stood by.

"I'll not be long!" she said, not bothering to look up at him. "Well, probably not anyway. But if I see Janet at the hairdressers I'll have to take her for lunch at the Orchis Bar. She wants to have a long chat with me about her husband."

She continued to fuss with the contents of her bag. Yep, plenty of cash, and she had her cards with her. Opening a small, flat box she uttered a 'Tsk!' of irritation. Empty. She'd really have to get another packet of condoms today. It's always better to be safe than sorry, even if she's already had unprotected sex four times with Marley. At last she clicked the bag shut and looked up.

"You'll be all right, won't you?" she asked. It was a redundant question; since she knew full well he'd be in no position to get up to any mischief. But she asked it with a hint of wifely concern in her voice.

"Yes, my Lady," he affirmed dutifully. "Should I insert a catheter before I attach my ropes?"

"Good idea, boy," she replied, taking gentle hold of the slender penis that hung limp in front of her. It responded immediately, causing her to frown, but she didn't comment. "If I do meet Janet it could be some time before I get back. Several hours, even. We don't want any nasty wet patches on the furniture, do we?"

She released the stirring, swelling flesh and wiped a trace of his moisture from her palm onto his shaven thigh. The penis was still only half-aroused, and she watched silently as it reluctantly surrendered the extra blood it had been holding. Only when it had come fully to rest, against balls that not released semen for at least three weeks, did the frown leave her elegant forehead. She smiled up at her husband, her slave.

"Yes, boy, do insert a catheter and link it up. There should still be a couple in the toy cabinet. Then get into position and attach your bits. You know the routine. I'll come back and check you over before I go."

"Very well, my Lady," Alex responded, in the approved, positive manner. But Sue was already out of the cell. He heard the faint click as she turned the key in the door lock. She always locked him in, though it was more a mark of her superiority than a deed of necessity. Alex knew and relished his position in their relationship. He would never have dreamt of trying to escape.

===================

Plir-rp!

Alex tries to guess how long his Lady has already been gone. On bright days he can watch the progress of the small square of sunlight that comes in through the tiny window, and this gives him a good idea of the time. But today it's overcast, and he has only his intuition to go by. The light entering the cell is adequate for his needs (which are deliberately minimal), but does little to tell him what's going on in the outside world.

He guesses he's been waiting for several hours, so maybe it's mid-afternoon. He hates it when the day starts to fade into evening shadows, and gradually becomes night. That's when the waiting is hardest. Will She come home tonight? Or will he be left to seek some fitful sleep in his cell, and be ready to take up his household duties when - if - she gets home next morning? He prefers Her to spend the evening at home, even when She brings another man with her. He has to watch and wait while they make love, of course, and this usually means there are special duties for him to perform. One of the less demeaning tasks is putting the condom on the man's penis. He doesn't really mind doing that - he enjoys the knowledge that he's putting a wall between his Lady and the man. Somehow it dissolves a lot of the shame he feels on watching his Wife give Her body to someone else. A barrier's a barrier, after all, whether it's made of thick concrete or thin rubber. And if there's no physical contact there's no infidelity, right?

He smiles ruefully. OK, he knows he's kidding himself. But on the other hand he knows his Lady is fully entitled to seek pleasures from other men. And from women.

"Alex, you're an utterly useless arsehole!" Sue would shout at him, back in the days before She took charge of him and allowed him to become Her slave. And he would cringe with the knowledge that he was totally unable to please and satisfy his wife. Not now, though. By accepting this special relationship with the Lady he once knew as Susie, he has acquired a deep sense of purpose, a profoundly satisfying awareness that he is wanted and needed. He knows he only has to obey his Lady perfectly, and he reaps the reward of her dedicated affection. Sure, sometimes he makes mistakes and has to be punished, but it's a learning curve, isn't it?

He smiles ruefully, remembering the one little mistake he'd made this morning when his Lady returned for Her final check-over before leaving him. His balls still ached from the punishment ...

===================

The sound of Sue's steps faded as she reached the top of the stairs leading up from the cell. Alex needed to work fast - She'd be back soon to check him over, and if there was one thing she hated it was being kept waiting.

The catheter first. He opened the 'toy cabinet' and took out the things he needed. Paying careful attention to sterile procedures he lubricated the catheter and began to feed it quickly along his urethra. He was used to doing this, and the process of insertion had long ago ceased to be painful. He loved the moment when the tube actually passed through into his bladder. That sudden, sweet, involuntary flow of urine , so much more satisfying than just taking a leak into the toilet.

When the flow ceased he inflated the tiny balloon that would hold the catheter firmly inside his bladder, and temporarily clamped it to prevent drips while he prepared himself for the waiting. He was already naked of course - he was seldom allowed to wear clothes in the house. Padded leather straps went onto his wrists and ankles with practised ease. From the cupboard under the washbasin he took a full, five-litre bottle of spring water, exchanged the screw top for one fitted with a valved plastic spigot, and fitted it upside-down into a wrought-iron bracket on the wall, close to where his head would be. He took a quick suck at the flexible spigot to check that the flow worked OK.

Next, his bonds. His 'bits', as his Lady dismissively called them. 

Picture a cell some six feet wide by eleven long. You enter it through a narrow door of heavy, dark-varnished wood. It's like looking along an ill-lit corridor, bare except for a couple of oak cupboards by the door and the wrought-iron bracket holding the plastic water bottle onto the far wall. There are grills for the ducted air that heats and ventilates the cell, and some electric power points. There are rings everywhere, some fixed to the walls, others neatly recessed into the oak flooring. The ceiling has a couple of transverse oak beams, their gnarled, rough-hewn appearance hinting heavily at the age of the mansion in which this cell has been created.

Oh, and the bench. It's about a foot and a half wide, and knee-height. Sturdily made of dark-stained oak (still smelling of the beeswax polish he applied yesterday), lightly padded and covered in rich brown leather. It extends five feet from the far wall towards you.  The end against the far wall is raised slightly - a sort of pillow for the user to rest his head on.

Two ropes, terminating in steel rings, are draped over the bench. They pass through a series of rings and pulleys on the side walls, and disappear into a box mounted above the door. The box has two push-buttons - one red, one green. Beneath the red button there is a small hole into which a metal rod has been inserted. A length of fine chain, attached to the rod, is draped along the cell so that it can be reached by the person lying on the bench.

Alex pressed the red button. A heavy 'clunk' within the box announced that power was on and certain machinery had been primed.

He sat astride the bench, and reached down to clip his ankle straps to metal rings. He connected his catheter to a plastic tube that led to a small metal bucket below the bench, and removed the clamp so that the urine could flow once again. A brief tinkle announced that a small amount of his pee had reached the bucket.

He clipped a rope to each of his wrist bands, then leaned carefully back along the bench so that his head was resting on the raised end, nearly touching the wall.

His final act of free will was to take hold of the length of chain hanging from the box, and give it a light tug. The metal rod fell out of its hole and clattered to the floor. Machinery inside the box began to whir. The ropes attached to his wrists were gradually, inexorably, wound through their rings and pulleys and into the box, pulling his arms wider and wider apart until his wrists were held tightly up against the side walls of the cell.

Of course it had to happen! It always did, and it always got him into trouble! Even with a catheter in his cock, the sudden switch from freedom to full, undeniable helplessness and vulnerability was so arousing!

And so, when his Lady came back to the cell to check him over, every part of his body was horizontal except one!

She smiled. But it was not one of those sweet smiles that unfailingly cause him to melt into loving adoration of his wonderful Lady. It was a smile born of anger, resignation and malice.

She knelt and grasped his scrotum, ringing it with thumb and forefinger, tugging his balls firmly downwards until his facial expression indicated that the pleasure/pain balance was working against him. Her palm and the rest of her fingers closed over the scrotum, squeezing, harder, harder. Soon it was all pain and no pleasure. Alex gritted his teeth and grimaced, his eyes tight closed, his face contorted by the agony. He held his breath, willing himself to withstand this punishment without screaming out loud. Better to endure a few seconds of agony than to incur a penalty that could mean days of deprivation or humiliation.

A man usually knows his erection is going to fail a few seconds before it starts to happen. If a guy says 'oh, fuck!' in mid-fuck, it means the fuck's fucked! That's frustrating. Really frustrating. For Alex, though, the foreknowledge of his imminent droop was the best news he could have received! He started to breathe again.

But Sue didn't relinquish her ball-crushing hold. She remained thus for a couple of minutes more, watching his reactions, waiting until the proud little catheterised cock had shrunken down to something resembling a garden slug chewing on a latex worm. Only then did her knuckles, white with the pressure she had been applying, begin to relent.

"When will you learn?" she asked, sighing. "Go on! Recite Rule twelve again!"

"Twelve. Erections are for the enjoyment of Lady Sue, not for the pleasure of slave Alex." he dutifully intoned.

"For the SOLE enjoyment of Lady Sue," she corrected. "But I'm feeling generous. I won't punish you for saying it wrong. Not this time anyway." She released her hold and stood up.

"Thank you, my Lady."

"But mind you don't let that happen again while I'm out!" she commanded.

"No, my Lady" he responded abjectly. 

After a forgiving peck on his cheek she opened a small box. Taking out Heloise and Abelard she put one of them on the bench between his thighs, the other on his chest. This didn't worry him - he was quite at ease with the rats. He knew they'd rather be at floor level. They'd jump down soon.

"Be good while I'm out, won't you!" she admonished. By way of reply he just tugged futilely against his wrist and ankle restraints, and shrugged. He wasn't going anywhere, would he? He wouldn't be doing anything at all.

He'd just be waiting.

===================

Plip!

Another tiny drip of urine announces its arrival in the bucket. The sound reminds him that his mouth is dry. He moves his head, puts his lips around the spigot of his supply of spring water, and sucks.

He's never sure how fast he ought to drink. His Lady likes him to have finished the whole five litres by the time She returns, so there is always a temptation to drink quickly in case She's back early. On the other hand, he knows that if he takes the whole five litres in the first couple of hours he could be left with nothing to drink for a very long time. Most of his waiting sessions exceed eight hours, and recently She's taken to staying out overnight. Twice this month he's been left to wait until the sun was high in the sky next morning.

Both times She was most contrite. She had hurried downstairs to release him, then She'd led him to Her bedroom and allowed him to venerate Her chapel with his tongue.

Her chapel. He smiles! A chapel is a place of worship, geddit? So her chapel is the place where people go to worship Her. Two out of ten, maybe, for originality, and three for wit. But he's glad he doesn't have to call it her cunt. Such a crude term ...

Oh, how good those sessions had been! She hadn't deigned to explain what had kept Her out overnight, and of course he didn't ask. But as he attended to Her pleasures he was sure he had recognised the unmistakeable taste and texture of semen. She had writhed in joy as his long, lithe tongue reached into every crevice, swept sensuously over every soft vaginal surface. He had been rampantly erect for Her all the way though, and She had even stroked him occasionally, though he wasn't given the climactic pleasure of an orgasm. She hated having his pathetic spurts of sticky wetness anywhere near her body. 

He'd gone at Her chapel with the ardour of an industrial vacuum cleaner. He hopes his Lady thought he was working his hardest in order to pleasure Her. But that hadn't been uppermost in his mind. The urge that drove him on was the urge to lick from his Lady's chapel every vestige of alien cum. He knew he shouldn't react to being cuckolded, but he couldn't help it. Somehow it wasn't so bad if She did it at home, especially if he himself had slipped the condom over the guy's cock.

Plip!

He hasn't forgotten the taste of that cum, even though the last time had been five days ago. He still feels belittled and ashamed. Who was it, he wonders? Must be someone She knows quite well, if She's doing it unprotected. At least he hopes so. Surely She hasn't given in to Sir Charles? The elderly, beer-gutted senior partner of his accountancy firm is always ogling the juniors' wives. Alex felt sure his partnership status depended on Sir Charles getting his leg across Sue. In a way he was relieved that Sue couldn't stand the guy. Can't fault her judgment on that, he concludes. No, it wasn't him.

Then who?

This, he knows, is one of the agonies of waiting. His body is strictly controlled, but his mind is left free to run riot over all sorts of embarrassing, humiliating questions.

Plip!

When his Lady had first taken command of him, She knew She'd need a place where She could keep him when he wasn't required for other purposes. She had ordered him to convert their coal cellar into the cell where he now lay waiting. He's not allowed to indulge in self-pride, but it's hard not to feel, well, to feel satisfied with this particular example of his handiwork. A year ago it was nothing more than a filthy coal cellar under their mansion. In days gone by the coalman would have emptied hundredweight sacks of fuel into it, through the heavy old elmwood trap door under the scullery window, and the servants would have descended into the cellar by a ladder to fill the coal scuttles and tend to the fires in the living rooms and bedrooms. Now the mansion has central heating, and no servants (except the gardener). Sue uses the servants' quarters to store her collection of 18th century pilots' charts.

The coal cellar was redundant. But at least it was dry.

Plip!

God, it had been hard work! But in the end he'd converted it into a superb cell. It's also an excellent place for BDSM activities, with all these rings fixed to the walls and floor. He's a bit disappointed that his Lady hasn't yet shown any interest in getting the whips, paddles and stuff for punishing him physically. When he misbehaves She prefers the simple approach of just depriving him of sex. Including masturbation. A while back She measured him up carefully, then sent a quite frightening amount of money to a bloke in the States who manufactures male chastity belts. Six weeks later the thing had arrived - shiny stainless steel, loads of neoprene linings to protect vulnerable flesh from sharp edges, and amazingly comfortable when it was locked on him. Alex would really like to try wearing the thing on a full-time basis, but his Lady prefers to keep it as an occasional deprivation device. Bloody expensive for an occasional deprivation device, he thinks. Still, it's her money, and she's got plenty of it.




Waiting



Deprivation's not exactly an imaginative sort of punishment, he muses. It's dull. Boring. He wishes his Lady would be a bit more pro-active in Her approach to discipline. The idea of a cane swishing through the air and landing on his arse, leaving sharply-defined red weals, appeals to him enormously.

Damn! He's getting an erection again! He knows he should really stop thinking these erotic thoughts. But hell, She'll never know. Unless She comes home early and surprises him ...

Plip!

Clever things, these catheters, aren't they? You can pee (correction, you can't help peeing!) even with a hardon!

There are all sorts of punishments he'd love to experience. Hey, some of those chastity belts even have built-in buttplugs, don't they? Imagine having to stand like that in the kitchen while he prepared dinner! Fantastic! Come to think of it, there's a little thing on the rear plate of his own chastity belt that could well be an attachment point for a buttplug! Maybe if he started making some discreet, tactful suggestions she might order one ...

Naw! He's tried putting ideas into Her head before, and She always resents it. Better to let Her think of it Herself. Still, it might not hurt to drop an occasional, heavily-veiled hint.

He's so keen for his Lady to go in for physical forms of punishment but - ah! - he knows that his punishments have to be earned. So far this has been a very 'vanilla' mistress/slave relationship. He's so ultra-careful to obey his Lady's orders that there's nothing to entice her along the exciting path of aggressive domination.

He grins. It's been quite a while since 'Alex and Sue' turned into 'boy and Lady'. Maybe it's about time he started up a campaign of disobedience. Get things moving a bit. 

Maybe he'll start when his Lady gets back this evening.

IF She gets back this evening ...

Plip-p-p!

It always intrigues him how quickly a drink of water passes through his body. He only has to sip about half a litre of water, and within minutes the outflow through his catheter picks up.

Plip! Plop!

The only aspect of the conversion job he'd been worried about was the window. Left to his own devices he'd have completely sealed over the old trap door with concrete, and the cell would have been a unit with no natural lighting or ventilation. But his Lady had insisted on a window, thinking at first in terms of something that entirely filled the space where the old elm trap door had been. He had been so relieved when She told him she'd accept a compromise. She settled for a small unit of triple glazing, about a foot square, set into the concrete panel he'd originally planned.

She didn't mind that the unit didn't open. She accepted his assertion that ventilation grilles would endure an adequate supply of air. What She mainly wanted was a small measure of natural light. But She also wanted to thwart Alex's evident desire to protect himself from the view of anyone who might peer through a window and witness his humiliating bondage. She didn't want the cell to become some sort of cosy, private hideaway for her slave.

Plip! Plup! Plop!

Right now the window's not admitting much light, he notices. Last time he'd been left down here it had been a really sunny day. Two days ago, that was. He'd been able to watch the bright patch of sunlight progress from the wall on his left, across the floor until at last his flaccid cock was sunbathing in a glorious, square halo of sunshine. He had felt the comforting warmth of the sun for several minutes.

Until suddenly the light was blocked off. Startled, he had looked up at the window and had been horrified to see the face of Ted, the milkman, framed there!

Tied down as he was, there was nothing Alex could do to conceal himself. Once Ted's eyes had accustomed themselves to the gloom, and he had seen Alex's bound, naked body stretched out on the bench, he had continued to look down at him for several agonising minutes, broad smiles adorning his face. Ted had even tried to talk to Alex, but the whole cell, including the window and its concrete surround, was quite soundproof.

Suddenly Ted must have remembered he had customers waiting down the lane, customers who would be braying for their milk if he dallied much longer. The face disappeared, and bright sunlight once again lit up his cock.

But it was no longer a flaccid cock. It was rampant. Erect as a six-inch flagpole! It remained at attention for the next two hours, and was still rigid when Alex's Lady returned to release him. He hadn't been able to stem the riotous flow of thoughts that had assailed him. 

Ted's a good looking guy, and Alex is vaguely attracted to him despite strong suspicions that he's gay. Alex has already been forced to taste cock, but only with ostensibly straight men. He still feels threatened when in the company of overtly gay guys. So he's still not exactly sure what had got him so aroused while Ted had been surveying his bound, naked, hairless body.

As soon as his Lady had come back and released him he'd confessed to Her about this encounter with Ted. It was expected of him, and he knew it would be a breach of their loving relationship if he kept quiet about it all. Besides, he felt sure Ted himself would say something sooner or later.

His Lady had laughed, but hadn't commented. Not at first. It had been the following day - yesterday - when the consequences of that little episode became apparent.

Plip! Plurp-p-p! Plip! 

Remembering it, his mouth feels dry. He takes a few more sips of water from the spigot.

Normally his Lady deals with household bills. If a delivery man calls, he just skulks naked in the kitchen while She signs for things or makes payment. Yesterday, however, was different. She remained in conversation with Ted for several minutes, and eventually came back into the kitchen.

"Ted wants you to pay him this week!" She said, directing him to the back door.

"But I'm undressed...!" He choked off his own words, realising his mistake. He shouldn't have demurred. But it was too late.

"Go out and pay him," She ordered. "Now."

Alex looked at her questioningly. "But you keep all the mo.." he started.

"You don't need money. Go and pay him!"

Light dawned in Alex's eyes. Ghastly, cum-tinged light. He didn't believe his beloved Lady was doing this to him! He glared at her. She ignored him.

"NOW!!!!"

He jumped. And went, despite his nakedness, to the back door where Ted was waiting.

"Hi, Ted," he mumbled. "What's the problem?" Alex still had a saucepan lid in his hands, and he tried ineffectually to use it to cover his embarrassment.

"There's no problem," declared Ted. "I just want the milk bill paid."

"How much is it?"

Ted looked at his big blue notebook. He pretended to do some calculations, then wrote on one of the tear-off slips. He handed it to Alex.

Alex looked at the slip of paper, aghast. There were just two words written on it.

"One blowjob."

Alex didn't know what to say. After a while he looked up and peered into Ted's eyes. They were gleaming.

"That's the exact price for eleven pints of semi-skimmed milk and three tubs of cream!" the milkman declared with a smirk. "Please don't ask for credit, as a refusal often offends! Oh, and by the way, you can put down that saucepan. I've seen it all before, remember?"

Alex was still staring blankly at Ted. This wasn't happening, was it? He put the saucepan on a window sill.

"Prompt payment will ensure that you don't start accruing interest!" Ted added. "Of course, if you'd rather have your little secret spread all over the district ..."

Ah. Alex understood what was going on. Blackmail. And Sue was going right along with it!

"When you say 'prompt payment', do you mean what I think you mean?" asked Alex glumly.

Ted nodded. "Yep. Right here. Right now. We can't be seen from the road. Oh, and in the circumstances you might think it's a good idea to call me 'Sir' in future."

"Can't we discuss this, er, Sir?" Alex was clutching at straws. Ted shook his head and unzipped his jeans.

"Surely it would be simpler if I just paid the bill in the usual way?" Alex ventured, his final despairing attempt at escaping the inevitable. Sue did allow him pocket money, and he had about £6 saved up. His pocket money was a valuable resource, but he'd willingly hand it all over if it would save him from the fate that was looming very, very close.

Ted, however, was not to be diverted from his blowjob.

"Just do it, little guy," he said. "Get down and do it. This could well become the 'usual way' for you to pay my bills!"

Alex sighed and knelt. Putting his hand to Ted's zip, he gingerly inserted two fingers and felt for the job that he was expected to blow.

And it was a big job.

No underpants. God, the guy must have dressed specially for the occasion!

Two fingers weren't enough. Alex would have to thrust his whole hand through the zip to grasp that enormous member. He closed his eyes, reached in and pushed his fingertips around the cylinder of hot, slightly sweaty flesh. His own less impressive member began to twitch, the eroticism of the occasion registering in the inevitable way.

Enormous! Life was so unfair! Cocks ought to be issued by reference to a guy's worldly achievements, not just at random like this. Hell, Alex was a well-respected chartered accountant. Not a high-flyer like that Micro-something bastard, but he reckoned he rated an eight-incher instead of the pathetic five-point-eight inches that actually graced his groin. And here's something that's got to be more than a foot long, stuck between the legs of a fucking milkman! Alex felt like crying!

But he didn't. He grasped that cock, and (with difficulty, because it was struggling hard to be erect) forced it out into the light of day.

Alex gulped. No, it wasn't a foot long. Nine inches, more like. But it was thick! Nearly as thick as one of the milk bottles its owner left on people's doorsteps every morning!

And it was growing!

Alex's fingers were still inside the milkman's jeans. Feeling in the space under that impressive member he looked for, and found, the orbs that fed it. Once, several years back, he'd been to a local agricultural show, and he'd been seriously impressed on seeing the balls that hung below the prizewinning ram. The pair that he now grasped were at least as good as the pair attached to that poor sheep, which he felt sure had been served up with mint sauce by now. He grasped those balls, palpated them, envied them, wanted them...

"Get on with it, for fuck's sake!" Alex's reverie was rudely halted by the milkman, whose thick cock was now projecting rigidly and demandingly towards his mouth. He didn't have to part his lips - his mouth was already wide open in awe. Ted leaned forward, and Alex offered no resistance. The monstrous glans slid into his mouth like an artillery shell entering the breech of a field gun, and passed deeper within, deeper, deeper ...

Alex gagged at first, but he refused to be beaten by this enormous thing. If he had to suck the guy off, he'd do it properly. And he'd bloody well enjoy doing it. 

The first sensation, as the hot, swollen glans entered his mouth, had been one of elation. Yes, he'd sucked dick before, but nothing of this order of magnitude. Somehow this one felt right, as if his mouth had been made to receive - and welcome - something this big. It tasted good too. Not piss, not cum. What the hell was it, he wondered. A sweet taste, spicy, special. Hell, he knew it, but he couldn't quite ...

Ah! Yes! It was honey! Honey, for God's sake! With that massive cock rammed deep into his throat he looked up into Ted's eyes, and gave him a questioning look.

Ted pushed; withdrew, pushed and withdrew. "Yes!" he declared between thrusts. "You can taste it, can't you?" Alex nodded. "You like honey, don't you? Sue told me you'd like it. I just smeared some under my foreskin for you. Nice, eh?"

Alex could only nod his appreciation. He was busy, attempting to deal with flesh that insisted on penetrating well past his tongue and down his throat. He'd never experienced anything like this before, but he'd heard about deep throat techniques and he felt sure he could handle it. It was all about relaxation, wasn't it?

The milkman pushed again and his cock passed ever deeper, filling Alex's mouth and more. He wanted to throw up. He didn't want to throw up. He decided to forget about throwing up, and concentrated on relaxing his throat so as to receive more of that honeyed meat. Now Ted was holding the back of his head and fucking his face, thrusting, withdrawing, thrusting. Alex wrapped his lips around the hard log of flesh, sucking as Ted withdrew, tightening like a clenched sphincter as he entered. An inexorable, pulsing rhythm was established. In, out. Squeeze, suck. Squeeze, suck.

Alex knew, just as Ted knew, when the point of no return was reached. The point when it became clear the huge cock was going to gush, would have to gush. They both continued their actions, faster, faster, urging the orgasm closer. Suddenly Ted gasped, juddered, pushed his cock hard through Alex's mouth and held it deep in his throat. His whole body continued to pulse, and all at once Alex felt the first urgent, powerful spurt of Ted's hot, creamy white cum. He swallowed. It was a reflex reaction, not something he'd decided he wanted to do. But the cum continued to flow. And Alex continued to swallow.

When it was all done, and that massive tool began to wilt, Alex knew he could have released it. He had paid the bill. But something made him carry on. Amazingly, he wanted more.

He kept up the sucking rhythm, lightly and gently because Ted would be feeling the usual post-orgasmic sensitiveness. He licked and swallowed, cleaning away the final dribbles of cum from the lifeless member. Alex tasted and took every drop, milking that cock for everything it could give him. And as he sucked, he became aware that he was sucking renewed life into it. Gradually the cock swelled again in his mouth.

Alex still had his hand inside Ted's jeans, holding and caressing the immense sac that contained the milkman's bollocks. He grasped the tackle, manoeuvred it until it emerged through the zip to hang against his chin. Now he had Ted's entire love kit to play with. And he mustered every ounce of the skills he had accumulated, to play that instrument like a virtuoso. 

Once Alex had coaxed the milkman past those few uncomfortable post-orgasmic minutes, he set to work again with gusto. It wasn't long before he had him riding rapidly towards a second orgasm. But before Ted could again grab his head and start the face-fucking stage he stopped all action, spat out the cock and looked into the blackmailer's eyes.

Eyes that were clouded with frustration!

"Want me to continue?" Alex enquired gently.

"Yes. Yes! For fuck's sake, yes! Get on with it!"

"Sir?"

"Er, yeah?" Ted's erection was beginning to wilt.

"I mean, do you wish to address me as Sir?"

"Yeah! Yeah!! Sir! Get on with it, Sir! Please!"

"Please Sir?"

"Yes! Yes, Sir! Please, Sir, DO IT!!!!"

"Sir?"

"Yes! Sir!! SIR! Fucking SIR!!"

Alex decided he'd made his point. He took the huge cock back into his mouth and restored it to a proper state of erection. Then he set to work. Ted shuddered to his second orgasm just eleven minutes after he'd enjoyed the first.

The cock subsided very quickly, and the flow of cum wasn't anywhere near as copious as the first time. A few dribbles emerged onto Alex's tongue; he was pleased that he could actually taste the stuff this time, instead of having it forced down his throat. When he'd sucked cock before it had only been to prepare the guy for entry into his Lady's chapel, so he'd never had a taste of cum before.

===================

Plop!

Alex takes another little sip from his bottle and swills the liquid about in his mouth, recalling the different sensations yesterday morning when it was cum instead of spring water. It wasn't exactly delicious, but neither was it repulsive. The taste was, well, like nothing else he could remember experiencing. A bit salty, maybe. Not a strong taste, nothing like the acrid smell of stale cum that can sometimes rise from unwashed bedsheets.

But the texture's interesting, he muses. Thickly viscous, almost stringy. He thinks back to a time, a couple of years back, when they'd stopped off in Brightlingsea for a meal and they'd had oysters. Eaten properly, they just slide down your throat like a great gobbet of cold snot.

Plop!

He giggles. No, the cum didn't feel exactly like an oyster. Nor like cold snot, come to think of it. But it's a close as he can get for now. Maybe after he's had another taste...

When Ted had let him stand up again, they'd decided by mutual agreement to drop the 'Sir' thing. Sue had been standing in the doorway, watching the whole episode, and she'd been quite amused to see how her little slave had stood up for himself. Even Ted saw the funny side, once he'd tucked his tackle back inside his jeans and reverted to his milkman status.

They decided not to make the blowjob a regular, weekly event. Sue thought that would be a tiresome imposition for her, no less than for Alex. She would have loved to get that magnificent cock inside her own chapel, and she actually suggested it. But no. Ted reluctantly admitted that he was strictly gay. He hadn't come out about it, though, and he wasn't prepared to let it be generally known.

"Oh, well then," said Sue, "we'll keep quiet about that, if you'll keep your mouth shut about what you saw through the window!"

"Fair enough," replied Ted. "But can't we include an occasional blowjob? You saw how well Alex did it! And me, I don't ever remember feeling so completely drained after a guy's sucked me off!"

Plop!

Sue agreed that Ted could have Alex from time to time, but not on the doorstep any more.

Alex smiles. Nothing's fixed up yet, but he's looking forward with eager anticipation to their next time. He's still surprised at himself - he never imagined he could get so much pleasure from sucking a man till his balls run dry. But he'd enjoyed the event, and he's played it over and over in his mind during the day or more since it happened.

He takes another sip. Looking up at the bottle, he sees he's already used more than half of his water. The sound of his pee dripping into the bucket has changed, from the earlier metallic, hollow tones to a simple watery sound. The bucket's filling up.


And, he sighs to himself, it's getting dark.

Resigning himself to another long wait, he closes his eyes and relaxes as much as possible. Sometimes he can doze, get a bit of sleep, but it isn't easy.

Sue enters the cell, naked except for high heels, black gloves and black fishnet stockings held up by a fantastic array of studded leather straps. There's a wicked leer on her face! She's holding an enormous leather whip in one hand, a cage of a dozen fierce ferrets in the other. She advances on him, slowly, slowly ...

Alex is dreaming ...

... and waiting.



Waiting



Author’s note: The following story is a draft version of some work written for a market other than Literotica. It does have sex of a sort in it, but I have to warn you it isn’t intended to be particularly erotic. If you’re looking to be turned on you may wish to visit some of my other work. If you can cope with just a story with sex in it then read on, and please do send me feedback, as that’s why this work is submitted.

Thanks.


Tee and Cabe hung around the track gates, waiting for a mark. It would have been better to wait inside, but the grunts were being all on edge. Cabe kept needling Tee to choose a mark, but Tee wouldn’t be pressed. She wanted one that felt right, and that meant waiting.

She hoped she wouldn’t have to wait long. She and Cabe hadn’t eaten for a couple of days now, and Cabe was getting desperate. A mark had come along for Cabe, but she had been unwilling to subject her brother to the possible dangers. He was just too young. Besides, she had a feel for it. So she let the mark go, and waited.

‘Grunt’, said Cabe, gesturing with his head. Further away, away from the shelter of the track gates, a man in a long coat was talking to a couple of the bikers. They looked at each other, and scowled answers back.

‘So?’, said Tee.

‘So they might be looking for us. Should we go?’

Tee craned her neck, trying to get a look, but he was too far away. ‘Nah’, she said. ‘Why would he want us?’

‘There was that guy the other week. He said he’d report us.’

‘Yeah, right. Him and his wife are gonna trot on down to the station and spill his guts. I don’t think so. You worry too much. We’re fine. Long as we pick the right mark.’ Tee stood on tiptoes to see over the crowds that obscured her view. ‘See,’ she said, ‘He’s going’.

A man passed them munching on a steaming roll, rain pouring from the brim of his hat. Cabe followed him with his nose. ‘I’m starving,’ he whispered, for the fourth time that day. 

‘Shut up’.

‘Well, I am though’.

‘Shut up.’

‘Hi,’ said the grunt. He held up his badge. ‘North-Side Police. Come to ask a few questions. Gentleman over there said he’d seen you around a lot. Do you mind?’

‘No,’ said Tee. Cabe stood next to her nervously plucking at her sleeve. Tee kicked him in the ankle and he let go. 

‘Your name is…’

‘Tee’. Tee wasn’t her real name, just a nickname. When Cabe had been young he had been unable to say her name, and the name he had used instead was not fit for repeating in mixed company. So the family had shortened her name to Tee in his presence. After Mum had died Dad had taken to drinking, and just staying out a lot. Eventually he’d just not come back. They knew they’d have to go stay with their grandmother if they said anything, so they’d just left. It seemed sensible at the time.

‘How old are you, Tee?’

‘Eighteen’.

‘And how old is your friend here?’

Tee and Cabe exchanged glances. ‘He’s… He’s eighteen too.’ You couldn’t be responsible for yourself under eighteen. You got taken in. The streets were full of whispers about what happened to you if you got taken in. Of course it was all bullshit, but bullshit like that got to you.

‘Ok’, said the grunt. ‘My name is Sim. Detective Sim. I’m looking for a man stole some money from a bank on fourth. He’s not a nice guy. He killed some people.’

‘What, really?’ said Cabe, excited despite himself. Nobody ever killed anyone and got away anymore. It was a big deal. If they’d been at home they would have head it on the news. Tee sighed. That meant they weren’t at home. That meant they were living here at the track, in the room where they put up all the results, taking turns to sleep on each other’s shoulders, taking dirty old men for their winnings. 

‘Yeah, really. How come you ain’t heard?’

‘Our Dad doesn’t believe in the wireless’, cut in Tranka, thinking of their grandmother. ‘He says it’s evil. He says if the gods meant us to hear that far they’d have given us better ears’. Or made us all Teeps, she thought.

‘Oh. Well, I’m looking for him.’ Crap, thought Tee. They wouldn’t send out a grunt to find a murderer. They’d send out a Teep, maybe even two. She shifted her weight to the other foot. She was feeling more nervous.

‘Listen, if you hear of anyone out of the ordinary with a lot of cash to throw around, you contact me, okay? Just pick up the switch for police, and ask the operator for Sim, in R and V’. He stuck his hand in his pocket and fished out a small bundle of notes. He peeled of a couple and handed Tee and Cabe one each. ‘More if you bring me anything’, he said. Then ‘What?’, looking upward. Tee stiffened, and held her breath involuntarily. Sim relaxed, and refocused on the pair of strays in front of him. He smiled, and nodded, and wandered off.

‘Fuck’, said Cabe, looking at the five credit note. ‘A fiver’. He grinned at Tee. ‘We can have a roaster’. Tee punched him in the arm, hard. ‘Ow!’, he said. ‘What was that for?’

‘Going on about your fucking stomach! It’s all you ever bloody do! That’s why I missed him. That’s why we almost just got taken in. That’s why we’re almost just strapped down to a bed while they  cut bits off us for experiments. That’s why!’

‘Oh. I thought you just knew’, said Cabe, still rubbing his arm.

‘Knew? Knew what?’

‘You know. Knew he was alright.’

‘How would I know that?’

Cabe shrugged. ‘I dunno’, he said. ‘I just… I dunno.’

‘Asshole’.

‘Buttwipe’.

‘Penis-head’.

‘Cheese minge’.

‘Crater face. You wanna roll or not?’

‘Extra cheese?’

‘Ok. But no pickle and we can afford a soda, too.’

‘Deal. I hate pickle anyway.’

‘I thought you liked pickle’.

‘Well, today I hate it.’

The van selling the rolls had no awning to protect its customers from the rain, so it was fairly quiet. They got served quickly, and went back to the gates to eat their rolls in the relative dryness.  They hunched themselves down and sat in gloomy contemplation, munching and watching the crowds. The crowd was mainly men, men by themselves, men in groups of three or four out for a little entertainment, nursing their dreams of winning big and running their own concession, maybe even a full tenancy. Dreams, and schemes, and hopes, and wishes. All of them passed them by, with out even a second glance.  

Five credits did not buy you a lot. Cabe finished his in short order, and Tee gave him the second half of hers, saying she wasn’t hungry, just to shut him up. She sat watching him munch, in the semi-darkness, and then looked up, as if hearing a sound.

‘Mark’, she said, getting to her feet.

‘Are you sure?’ said Cabe, still with his mouth full.

‘Course I am. Green coat. Bald head. Keeps looking this way. See him?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Don’t lose us.’

‘Do I ever?’

Tee walked away, crossing behind a group of men talking excitedly of something, and a man muttering consolingly to a woman, his wife, girlfriend, something, Tee couldn’t tell. She walked up to the man in the green overcoat. He had watched her all the way. ‘Hi’, she said.

He paused, looked around. ‘Hello’.

‘Just going in?’

‘Just coming out, actually.’ His voice was gruff and unfriendly.

‘Oh. Poor night?’

‘No, actually. Been ok.’

‘Could get better.’

‘Oh, yes?’

‘Much better. Live far away?’

‘Staying at a hotel, just over the road’. He gestured, and Tee glanced over.

‘That’s nice. That’s a nice hotel. I couldn’t afford to stay in a hotel like that.’ She smiled at him cheekily. ‘Unless someone wanted to share, maybe?’

He looked at Tee hard, then said ‘How much’.

Tee looked at him, trying to judge what would be just enough, but not too much. ‘What do you think I’m worth?’, she hazarded.

The man looked at her. He looked at her long, sinewy legs, and at her pert, small breasts. He looked into her soulful, oriental eyes, and at her cherry pout. ‘One fifty’, he said.

Heart pounding in her chest Tee stepped up closer, so close she could almost taste him, and looked up into his eyes. She lifted a leg and rubbed briefly against his crotch. 

‘Ok, two hundred’, he said. Tee smiled at him, and took him by the arm. Without looking at her he set off across the road, weaving through the carts and steam cars, and over to the hotel. Tee risked a glance backwards, and was happy to notice Cabe behind them, still chewing, silhouetted against the hissing of a car vent, the steam a ray of orange in the streetlights.

The hotel was not the best in town, and not the worst. It overlooked the track, and it attracted those thrill-seekers too nervous to entirely leave the carnage behind. From the windows on the third floor and above you could see the full arena, and watch the cars crash and smash their occupants. It also attracted more than its fair share of jumpers, who would book into the hotel for the night and then steal up to the roof, hurling themselves from the roof towards the track, trying one last shot at glory. Few of them made it, but it always made the news when it did. It usually caused a pile up, and some unexpected winners. 

The foyer reeked of sweat, smoke and alcohol. The check-in desk doubled as a bar, and the mark ordered an ale in an imported bottle. Tee couldn’t read, but she could count just fine, and the coins that stacked up on the bar in payment made her curse silently for selling herself so cheap. 

As they approached the lift Tee tried to calm herself when she saw the Teeps. They were standing waiting for a lift too. They were dressed in the familiar red and black uniform, and they exchanged glances with each other, but they didn’t speak. They say when you hear a Teep speak, that’s when you know you’re in trouble. 

Everyone on the planet Eden had a telepathic ability. They were born with it. It was born of a sense organ that earth humans do not have, buried deep within the brain. There were different sizes, and different skill levels, but everyone had the ability. Few, however, could afford the training to use it. Telepathy isn’t like sight, you normally had to be shown how it worked, how to develop it. The training took years, although occasionally an adept came along who could just do it straight away. Consequently Teeps were highly in demand, both in business and enforcement. They said no-one could beat the chain links of forensic telepathy. If they were really after you, you would be caught. They also said that if you really tried you could beat them one to one. That you were only in real trouble if they were already on to you. However, in common with many, Tee had always been terrified of them.

She tried to think, calm, innocent thoughts. Told herself everything would be okay, there was nothing to worry about, she had her daddy with her so everything was going to be fine. She stared straight ahead, not daring to look. An eternity later the lift arrived, and the Teeps went in. One held the door open, but the mark shook his head silently no. The Teep shrugged, the doors clanged shut, and the cage moved smoothly upwards.

The mark let out a breath. Teeps had to focus to read you, and they had to have a reason, and they had had no reason to read either Tee or the mark. But Teeps made you feel guilty, you couldn’t help it, even when you had done nothing wrong. And they had done nothing wrong. Well, except prostitution, but that wasn’t anything the Teeps would be interested in. That would only interest the grunts.

Another lift clattered to a halt in the next bay, and the mark put his hand on her ass. Tee bit her lip. Just two lifts. That meant one had to get back down before Cabe could follow. The mark’s hand on her made her nervous, and her hands started to sweat. 

Tee was a virgin. She didn’t know what she was saving herself for, exactly, but she knew it wasn’t the man next to her. Still, this had been her idea, watching the hookers down by the station. Cabe would come and yell a warning, something they always only dimly heard, and the mark would bustle her out guiltily. She always knew which marks to pick. It was something about them, the way they walked, the way they looked at her, the way they dressed. The guilty ones, the sly ones, the ones nursing a secret. 

She knew which ones to pick, and Cabe knew the right moment to call. He would stand outside the door, and listen. A couple of times he had called too soon, because a porter had come down the corridor and he had been afraid of being ushered out too soon, but they were rare cases. They would then run, laughing and crowing, down to the street, where they would have enough for a night in a proper bed, and food for a week. They never hit the same street twice in a row, and they always kept out of the way until Tee was sure of her mark. 

‘Here we are’, said the mark, and pulled her forward roughly. He got out a heavy key and unlocked a room at the end of a corridor. Once inside he went over to the window that let in the warm night air, and the rain, and shut it, blocking out the engine noise from the street and the track. ‘Would you like a drink?’, he asked.

Tee wanted to give Cabe some time, so she nodded, and took the proffered bottle. She tentatively took a sip of the ale, and made a face. The mark laughed. ‘What’s your name?’, he asked.
‘Tee’.

‘Short for…’

‘Just Tee’. Tee stood nervously, still holding the bottle. The mark sat down on the bed, and it creaked slightly.

‘So’, he said. ‘Why don’t you start by taking off your clothes’.

Tee coughed. ‘Erm,’ she said, ‘How about we get business out of the way first?’

‘Oh, yes, of course. Stupid of me.’ He reached into his coat and pulled out his money bag. It was heavy, and filled with 1000 credit coins, the big gold and silver ones. ‘Damn’, he muttered, and stood up to search his pocket, eventually finding a couple of small gold ones, which he put on a small side table by the bed. Tee was confused and anxious. She usually could make a big play of counting, when they had notes. Coins were too easy. And she had definitely undersold herself. 

She walked over to the table and picked up the coins, glancing at them briefly before dropping them into her pocket. She stood, uncertain. The man stood up and grabbed her roughly by the elbows, until she was standing in front of him. Then he moved his hands too her waist, and pulled her close. She could feel his erection pushing hard against her belly.

‘What’s the matter girl? You’re shaking’. He pulled her away from him to look at her face. ‘Is this the first time?’

Dumbly, unable to summon the courage to lie, she nodded weakly. He threw his head back and laughed loud. ‘Damn! Well you’re in for a treat. You’ll be glad you started tonight, yes sir!’ Still smiling he brought his face close to hers. ‘Yes sir, indeed you will. Your boyfriends won’t have given you as much as I can. And you gave it to them for free!’. And he laughed again, stroking her head with one hand. Then he let go, and pushed her gently away from him, to arm’s length.

‘Take off your clothes’, he said. ‘I want to see you’.

Trembling, Tee looked around for escape, but could see none. The door was the other side of the room now. If she made a run for it he could easily catch up. She tried to think her way out. ‘That’s extra’, she said in a shaky voice.

‘Naw, I don’t think so. I paid good money, and I’m gonna get my money’s worth. Now strip, dammit’.

Slowly Tee dropped her coat on the floor, then thought again and picked it up, folded it carefully, and put it to the floor at the foot of the bed. Then she bent down and began to unlace her left shoe.

‘Goddammit, we haven’t got all night. Pick up the pace or I’ll rip them off’. The tone of his voice was low and threatening. The clothes were all she had, and replacing any of them would virtually wipe out the two coins in her coat pocket. Reluctantly, but much faster, she pulled off her other shoe. She hesitated but a second longer before taking off her top. Unable to look at him now, half naked, she let her trousers drop to her feet and quickly placed the pile next to her coat. 

She was just wearing white briefs now, and despite his threats was still unwilling to remove them. She put her hands to the sides of the briefs, and held them there, gripping tightly, her teeth clenched.

‘Come here’, he said. Slowly she walked towards him, and when she was close enough he grabbed her wrists. He sat down again on the bed and pulled, so she had to let go or risk ripping the pants herself. She felt dizzy and lightheaded. He took her hands and placed them on his shoulders. His coat was still damp from the rain. Tee shivered.

He let go of her hands and grabbed her briefs. He pulled them down softly and began to stroke her bottom. Tee bit her lip. He put his hands between her legs and pushed them apart, making her stand with her legs wide. He put his hand on her vagina, and pushed apart her lips with his fingers. ‘Oh, yeah’, he said quietly. Tee shut her eyes and tried to pretend she was somewhere else. There was a pause, and she heard a fumbling, and then she was shoved downwards by the shoulder quickly, so that she had to let go of his shoulders, and she slapped her hands down hard upon his knees.

She found herself looking at his penis. She had seen her dad’s once before, when she was small, and she had seen Cabe’s a few times when he had thought she was asleep, or in another room. They hadn’t prepared her for the real thing. It looked huge, and ugly, and sweaty, and the top little hole was all wrinkled and puckered. Some sort of white stuff was around it’s head. Tee wrinkled her nose, and widened her eyes. ‘No!’. 

‘See, I knew you’d be impressed’, he said. He grabbed her by her dark, almost black hair with one hand, and pushed it towards her with the other. ‘Wouldn’t you like a little taste?’, he said. She tried to say no again, but too soon it was at her lips, forcing her to clamp her mouth shut. She battered at his knees to try and get him to let go, but he didn’t even seem to notice. He rolled his penis around her lips, and at her nose, for a little while before shouting ‘Dammit!’, and letting go of his penis to pinch her nose, hard. 

Tee spluttered for breath, and dry retched at the taste of a mixture of sweat and stale urine that filled her mouth and nostrils. After a short while she managed to come to her senses enough to try and bite him, even though  that meant pressing her tongue to the base of his glans.

He screamed briefly ‘Fucking Bitch!’ and pushed her away, so that she fell backwards onto the floor with a thump. She retched quietly, and then began to cry softly to herself, trying to crawl away towards the door. He nursed his wilting penis in his hand, still sat on the bed, inspecting it for damage.

Just then there was a hammering noise on the door. ‘Grunts!’. Tee froze and held her breath. 

‘Fuck!’, yelled the man. He stood up quickly and removed his coat, penis hanging limply and absurdly from his trousers. He was wearing a shoulder holster, and he wrenched at it for what seemed an eternity. Time slowed down, as he finally removed the gun and ran toward the door, seconds stretching into days. 

Tee, walking in a thick soup of terror, staggered to her feet and grabbed for her coat. 

The man was halfway to the door now. 

Now Tee was in her coat, bundling up her other clothes. 

Now he was at the door, yelling ‘Fuck’ again, a single word taking hours to utter. 

More banging at the door, a dull booming in Tee’s ears. 

Him pointing the gun at the door at it explodes in a shower of splinters, silently, the scream Tee makes drowned out by the silent explosion.

Tee running, barefoot and wailing, to the door, her bundle shedding along the way. He catches her and throws her back to the floor.

He reaches the door and flings it aside, looks first one way, then the other. Tee crawls to the floor, unable to get up. 

She makes it to the door, and looks past his feet. Cabe is running slowly down the corridor, his coat flapping behind him. There is a clap, as the gun is held up once more. 




Waiting



Cabe is still running. He is now almost to the lift cage, and the stairs next to it. The man adjusts the gun, and again a clap. 

A shower of blood and bone, and Cabe falls. His impetus carries him a little way and then he sprawls, full length, his head inches from the lift door, blood pumping vigorously out onto the orange tiles. 

‘Nooo!’

‘Shut up.’

‘No. No. No.’

‘Shut up!’ He turned and grabbed her by the throat, pulling her upright. Tee fought for air, clawing desperately at empty space. ‘He was with you wasn’t he? Wasn’t he? I fucking saw him! Fucking bitch! Now I’ll have to move on! Fucking goddamn bitch!’

He carried her by the throat, so that she had to walk on tiptoes to avoid being strangled, back into the room, and threw her down onto the side of the bed, banging her ribs against the bed frame. She cried out in pain, already having difficulty breathing through the racking, hysterical sobs that tore through her.

He grabbed her again by the neck. ‘No!’, she screamed again. But he just gripped tighter.

He pushed her onto the bed, her legs dangling over the side. ‘No!’

He let go briefly to slap her, hard, on the cheek, and then pushed her down again. He forced her legs apart, and she felt his penis, hard again already, brush against a leg. ‘No, no!’

‘Shut up!’ She felt the hard, cold muzzle of the gun against the back of the neck. ‘One more sound and then you’re joining the bastard. I’m just gonna get my money’s worth and then I’ll be on my way’. He shoved Tee’s face down into the mattress. She screamed noiselessly, and fought to breathe.

Then he pushed inside her. He had to push very hard, as Tee was completely dry. The world disappeared, and the pain made her see nothing but shades of blue and red, revolving, whirling around her. She screamed silently inside her head, fought to scream out loud. Fought to yell out a scream of hatred, and vengeance and pain.

And she found a voice to scream with.

Everyone on the planet Eden had a telepathic ability. It was born of a sense organ that earth humans do not have, buried deep within the brain. Occasionally an adept came along who could use their ability straight away with no training at all. Some were born that way, and some discovered how because of some chance incident. They often had higher levels of transmission and reception than many of those who had merely studied the techniques of improvement.

Her rapist had time for one brief high pitched squeal before it was cut short by the massive electric shock that shorted out his brain. He fell heavily on the floor, in a puddle of his own urine, a blubbery mass of dead flesh.

Tee lay for a while on the bed, her tears darkening the sheets, panting heavily. Slowly her breaths returned to normal, and she lifted up her head to look around. 

She could hear voices, both near and far, asking questions. What was the noise? Should they go look? Is my wife alright? Where are the children? Have I got enough money for the night? I can’t find my keys, where are my keys? Where shall I go tomorrow? 

The questions were all different, all from different sources, yet all confusingly similar. Do they do room service? Damn, where has that woman put my pants, for the god’s sake? Can  I afford to give up this lousy job yet? Maybe he just isn’t attracted to me anymore, is that it?

Tee looked around, confused. She began to see faces in her head, overlaid on the room around her. A fat man, balding, with a pale moustache. A woman with curlers. A boy with buck teeth. A man with long, greasy hair. Two children, both under ten, running and laughing. A baby crying. A young girl, face contorted in anger.

‘Stop it!’ called Tee. She stood and looked down at the body at her feet, trousers round his ankles. She was dimly beginning to understand what had happened. She had heard of such things. She was hearing the voices of the people in the hotel, and just around it, repeated in her own voice. She had been through what they called breakthrough trauma, and it had saved her. The voices were confusing at first, loud and brash, but already they were beginning to fade, like a retreating crowd. Still there, but murmuring more distantly. The faces were harder to cope with, and she struggled to keep her balance. She was feeling slightly seasick.

She stepped over the body at her feet and remembered Cabe. She tottered unsteadily to the ruined door. She could hear people approaching, but was having some difficulty separating it from the voices. Still naked apart from the coat she zigzagged her way along the corridor to her brother.

The blood had stopped flowing and he lay silent, cold and still upon the floor. Tee sobbed again, began to wail, but she had no more tears left to give. She sank to her knees on the wet, sticky floor next to Cabe. She leaned over his ruined chest and bent over his head. She closed her eyes and tried to concentrate.

I think it was on the sixth floor. We’ve had reports it was on seventh. You check sixth. I’m going to check the fifth. Put it away. It’s time to sleep, darling. Find it yourself. 

Voices in her head, emotions of all colours. Anger, hate, pain, lust, love, hunger, boredom, frustration. She listened to them all, the weak, the poor, the rich the callous. All the while searching for even the tiniest hint of the voice of the child at her feet. Nothing.

Tee leaned back and sobbed, her hands and legs stained red, blood in her hair and on her chest. She sobbed and wailed, great racking sobs of self-pity and remorse she had not wept since she was tiny, lying in her mother’s lap. She wept alone in a sea of voices, and waited for them to reach her.



Waiting



The room is lit in a cool moon blue, the type you only see in movies. In reality, it's usually a streetlight, but that can be memorable as well. The air outside is cool lending a spray of frost to the window. It's winter, and the sun has been down for a while. I lay in bed, I had been watching television, but you know how boring that can get. I have the heat up nice and high. I'm really indulgent. I like to wear shorts in winter. I have made one concession though; I'm wearing my thermal socks. I smoke a cigarette, watching the smoke curl and waiver around the room. I play the dial on my stereo with the remote, pausing only briefly on each station. Landing on the university station I stop, stringed instruments swell and hold, a creating beautiful peace. I sit thinking of nothing, I wonder. I'm waiting. 

I hear the door in the hall open, I hear you kick the snow off of your low cut boots. I hear them thump as you kick them away. They land in slowly melting snow. I listen as you pad to the bathroom, and then knock on the door to my room. I say come in and you do. You could have just entered, but I respect the habit ingrained in you from your parents. I watch you as you shut the door, red jacket, brown long and straight. Bright brown eyes, I rise to say hello. As you unzip your jacket I slide my arms around your waist, Holding you close and kissing your neck, I smell the cold in your hair, and the linger of perfume. I run my hand up and down your back as I help you remove your coat. "Why don't you take a quick bath? To warm you up?" You smile and say you will. I give you two thick towels and suggest you get undressed while I go run some water. I fill the tub, hot but not too hot and walk back to my room. You are wrapped in a towel, sitting at my desk, smoking one of my cigarettes. Hair wrapped in a bun, long legged, one curled underneath. You look up as I enter the room. I stand beside you and rub your back, suggesting you hurry before the water gets cold. I rub your neck and slowly run my hands over your breast in the towel, massaging gently. You hand me the cigarette and gently grasp my arm as I help you to your feet. You let your hand brush me as you walk by, making me smile. 

I sit once again on the edge of the bed, feeling a rush of anticipatory arousal. I play with the stereo some more, programming some discs for a distraction. Dead Can Dance, Garbage, The Sugarcubes, make the cut. I listen to Leonard Cohen as I pull out the satin wrap I had found. It was black and thin, sheer, with no specific purpose. I hear splashing as you exit the tub. You enter the room still damp, wrapped in towels. Leaving a towel wrapped around your waist, I take the other towel and dry your back and shoulders, rubbing your arms I gently nudge you towards my dresser with the mirror. 

With your back to me, I nudge your feet apart, ever so slightly. I place my hands upon your wrists and gently force the palms of your hands flat on the dresser top. Using the same towel I reach around to your stomach. Rubbing slowly but firmly I dry this precious area, moving my way up to your dangling, dark nipped breasts. I rest my chin on your shoulder as I palm them with the towel. Draping the towel across your shoulders, I let your hair down. And you shake your head, some falling around your face. A slight moan of pleasure escapes your lips. 

I remove the towel from around your waist and kneel, drying your feet and ankles. You’re delicious thighs at my lips. I let my lips rest against the backs of your legs as I dry your calves. Kissing my way up the back of your thighs, I dry them firmly with both hands. Kissing the little crease where your leg becomes heaven. I slowly stand and begin to firmly rub the towel between you legs. You drop to your elbows on the dresser top and part your legs further. I slide my hands up and down, parting you. Thoroughly rubbing your pinkness your left leg shakes a little and you are gasping. The Sugarcubes 'Birthday' plays on the stereo.I drop the towel, pulling the other one from your shoulders. I put my left arm around your waist, grasping your hip. I place my hand on your back and kiss the lovely Y where your ass begins. Tones from your throat emanate, low and throaty. You stand and turn, putting your arms around my neck. I pull you close, kissing, my hands rubbing, feeling your back, your cheeks. I bite your neck and my hand finds your breast. I gently pull on the nipple, you're breathing fast. I press my hardness against your neatly trimmed pubis. I pull away, taking the satin from the dresser. You reach for me, but I push your hands away. 

Taking the satin I wrap and tie it around your waist, kissing your shoulder. I feel your nipples pressed to my chest. Taking your wrist I guide you to the bed. I kiss your ear and ask you to kneel for me. I kneel on the bed beside you, placing your head on a pillow. I rub your neck, and ask that you tuck your knees underneath. I get off the bed, undressing. You watch, lips slightly parted, eyes bright. You reach for me again, but I push your arm back.I kneel beside your face, presenting my gift. I only allow you the head, and you are not allowed to touch. I slide my hand into your hair as you lick and pull. I watch your eyes as I place my other hand on your back, sensations coursing through my spine. I love the moaning you make as you try to swallow more. I put my hand on your chin, and slowly pull away. 

You pant slightly as I crawl toward your feet. I kneel beside you, placing my cock on your ass. I begin to rub your ass, the satin smooth beneath my skin. I reach between your legs and press softly, massaging your anus and clit. I feel you press back against my hand moaning, begging, please. I untie the satin leaving it lying around your feet. I lightly swat your left cheek, and you MMMMMmmm. You're rocking back and forth, I begin slowly, my palm stinging with each slap. I spank your cheeks over and over. I spread your ass with my hands and tongue your anus. You yell now as I gently spank between your cheeks, using only three fingers. I watch your ass shake with each tap. I stop and tongue your center, nibbling on your clit, my left hand massaging your right cheek. Your juices on my chin, I must have you. I roll you over, I kiss your belly, it quivers and you beg. "Please..." 



Waiting



It is late. The bedroom is dark, with only a single light above the computer. I’ve been sitting there looking at the erotic photos that you have collected. What a beautiful assortment you have. There are the most amazing photographs of women’s bodies. I particularly like the close-ups of the vaginas. I like looking at the different clits; the outer and inner lips of the labia. I like the view from the rear even better. It really turns me on to see the ass and the pussy together. I especially like it when the photos include the woman’s hands fingering her swollen pussy and teasing her tight ass. 

How I would like the view that you have when you enter me. From the front or the rear, you can look down and watch as your cock pounds into me. I can only imagine what that looks like. The imaginary image is incredibly stimulating. I can only wonder how the reality would turn me on. 

My hands have been as busy as my eyes. My pussy is hot and wet. I’ve been waiting a long time for you. As I continue to slowly move through your collection, my fingers alternately stroke and squeeze my clit. I shove my fingers deep into my pussy, but even three fingers does not compare to the girth and strength of your dick. I’m so horny and need something more. I close my eyes and remember the feel of you. As I open my eyes again, my glance catches sight of one of our toys on the edge of the desk. I reach for the plastic sheathed dildo and quickly turn the head to begin the vibration. I move it slowly up and down my hot pussy for only a second before shoving the whole length of it into my wet and waiting hole. There, that feels better. I continue to play with the toy as I scroll through the photos. 

I have found a new set; ones that include a man. His cock is big and beautiful. Looking at it only makes me want you more. Your cock is real to me. It is not only big and beautiful, but totally responsive to me. I want to feel it. I am intensely aware of wanting the feel of you inside of me. In these photos, my favorites are the tight in shots of the huge, pulsing dick pushing into the swollen pussy. I can feel the motion, even though these are still photos. The toy begins to move faster in my hand. 

I’ve been lost in the photos and the feelings, but now I can feel your presence. You move quietly across the bedroom. I can feel you long before I see you; long before you touch me. You quickly take in the scene and process what is happening. You stand silently behind me. I can feel you there, but you have not touched me. We both are taking in the visuals on the screen. No words are spoken, but the silent language between us is powerful and direct. As the photos appear and disappear, we watch together the magic moments of pussy and cock coming together. I continue to fill my own pussy with the vibrator. I can feel the heat coming off your cock, through the thick fabric of your jeans.

. 

And then another new set appears. The woman has turned around. Her bottom is up high in the air and from this position we can both see her swollen pussy and the tight little hole of her ass. We still have not touched. In the silence I hear our heavy breathing. We continue to watch from this new perspective. Suddenly, I feel your hands reach out and grab me around my shoulders. Silently, but very purposefully, you raise me to my feet. Your big red T-shirt quickly comes over my head. I am naked, standing right in front of you with my back to you, just like in the photos. I can feel your hands slide down the sides of my body, feeling the soft curves that you have come to know so well. Your large hands reach in front of me and grab my breasts. There is the slightest sense of urgency in your touch. Your hands are strong and demanding as they move across the roundness of my belly and find the hot wet mecca of my pussy. I’ve been waiting for you a long time. 

As the photos continue to appear and disappear, your hands move from my body for a moment. You quickly move the chair that I have been sitting on around in front of me, lock the wheels in position and unzip your pants. Only a moment has passed, but to my waiting and ready pussy it seems like a lifetime. Your cock springs to attention; always ready to pleasure me. I can feel the heat coming from it as you lean into me and pull me closer to you. The photos continue. We both are still watching. Your hands come at my waiting pussy from the front, even as your huge hard cock probes my ass from behind. The toy has been put to the side for now and my hands work my breasts with just the amount of pressure and firmness that seems right for this moment. Our coupling is mirroring the images on the computer screen. Even as I watch the cock in the photo probe the woman’s tight little hole, I can feel you urging me to bend over the back of the chair. As I lean forward, I reach behind and spread my soft, fleshy cheeks. But in my eagerness for you to fill me, I am jumpy. My ass bumps and grinds against you, searching for that ultimate pleasure tool – your cock.

The silence is broken as I hear your low growl, “Hold still”. Your strong hands grab me firmly by the hips and hold my bottom still. I am watching the cock on the screen push its way into the tight hole of her ass. I feel your cock pushing against my tight little hole. And then, in a moment of exquisite pleasure/pain, you break through. I can feel the head of your cock inside my ass. I moan in pleasure. You stop for only a moment to allow my muscles to relax and expand to allow you in and then continue to push deeper. Oh you feel so good! Hot and hard and strong and filling up every inch of my ass. You have found your way into this special part of me and we begin to move together in the in and out dance of pure passion. The fluids of my body, the images on the screen and the simple fact of my constant desire for you have come together to allow you to penetrate me. I watch the screen, wishing for a way to see what you can see; not an image on a screen, but you and me; your cock in my ass. I am so turned on.

Each hole, my pussy and my ass are streaming with fluids. I am wet and slippery. You pound you cock easily, but intensely into my ass. Your thrusting is wonderfully hard and fast. I am so ready to come. I reach for the toy and shove it into my now empty pussy. Can you feel the vibrations through the thin wall of flesh? You know that there is only one more thing that could make this coming orgasm more perfect, more powerful. Now that my bottom is firmly locked to you, your hand reaches around and begins to finger my clit. One touch is all I can take. I’m over the edge in one of the most intense and mind blowing orgasms I have ever experienced.

But even as the stirrings and tinglings in my body calm, I can feel them beginning in your body. Your cock seems even harder and bigger than before and I can feel the come shooting through your dick and into my ass. Your hands grab my hips again and pull me tight against you. 

We stand silent and motionless as the photos continue to fill the screen. We have totally lost sight of that voyeuristic pleasure. We are spent and satisfied with the pleasure of each other.



Waiting



Moll kicked her shoes in the corner and lay the briefcase down. She looked at her tired self in the mirror and scowled. It had been a whole month that Paul had been away on his business trip and he wasn't due back in another. "Stupid business trips!" she rolled her eyes, and threw her shirt onto the bed.

She couldn't believe the sacrifices she had made for this man, who seemed to have no problems moving around the globe without so much as remorse.

It always surprised her, however, that when he came back, just looking at him, she could forgive his crimes. He would throw open his arms at her and she would run into them like a lost child. 

But enough about that!

At the moment all she wanted....you know...was sex. 

She looked at her naked self in the mirror...at the strange pot belly that had appeared out of nowhere, despite her careful diet. It bothered her sometimes if her getting flabby here and there was why Paul was always travelling so much. What if there was a supermodel stashed somewhere whom he adored and made love to all night on his long business trips?

Yet. She still missed him. All day at work, trying to focus on work, she thought about him instead ...how he would hold her, kiss her, engulf her if he was there. If only her panties weren't getting so damn wet, she would continue to enjoy her day dream, this habit she had developed to cope with his constant absence.

Alas. It had become nonsense. Addictive...

At the 3pm meeting to discuss cost-cutting ventures, when 3 of her colleagues was being laid off by upper management and half the office was scared to death their names would be called, she she had managed to slip away. Paul's naked slippery body was making love to her in their comfy king-size bed, over and over and over.

Indeed, Paul was something else. "A hottie", a friend at work had labeled him, when he had come to drop off her purse, which she had left before going to work. And then for all the jealous spinsters to see he had planted a oh so sizable kiss on her mouth. Right in front of the girls!

"I love you," he had turned back and winked at her, while all the women 'heaved and ho'd in their cubicles. And then, he was gone.

"What a bad bad man!" Moll kicked herself trying to get the naked image of her sexy husband out of her mind.

At home, now that she was back to a cold empty house, she walked around with a glum face. Everything about his absence annoyed her hormones.

"Player!" she cursed at her delicious hubby's photo lying on her bedside table. How she wanted to get into the photo frame and just tear his shirt off!

"Ohhh!!!" she wrestled in agony, gritting her teeth. She had never told him how distraught she sometimes got when he was gone. Now, as her hormones rose and fell, she reconsidered.

Should she call him? He had said he would not be available. That was the nature of his work. She never asked him about it. Understood he was right, but people were people. And they had needs. 

But here she was, really, really insane with desire. She decided to do it. Dialed the number he had left in case of emergencies. If he had any sense of devotion he would not get very angry. Just a little.

"Husbands are so weird.," she grunted biting her lips.

Lucky as she was, she had never had to ask for sex from Paul before. Surprisingly enough he was always ready. But here she was having to sound desperate. How it did not sit well with her prudish upbringings. 

A man always took lead, she believed. 

"Always?" he looked at her standing against the wall, with her eyes shut, that first time in their bedroom.

"Mmmm"...she squirmed to fight his huge ticklish arms around her lower back. "Let me go," she managed to say, gasping and falling to her knees in one long kiss, as she tried to fight his inquisitive hands. The rest was history. Two children in college later, he was still making her knees buckle with his very presence.

But, now. It ALL drove but her mad. That he could just up and go and not care a dime about her needs. That he had driven her to this! Begging for sex! 

"You're my doll. My sweet.." he would tease her on the phone when he needed to have some fun. "Touch yourself for me.." he would continue like the naughty man that he was, and then laugh when she yelled back sweet curses in embarrassment.

Why did he love to torment her so, she wondered, as she carefully dialed the number, and tried to think of a reason to say hello. He had told her not to use the number except for real emergencies. 

"What would happen?" she frowned, angry again. Her mind got all foggy when she was like this. Couldn't think. At most, his submarine would receive a signal and the enemy would be alerted? But then, what about when he managed to use it when he wanted to get rid of his boner? Men... And all those things he said to her from 2000 miles under the sea. How stupid of her to give into him every time!

"Arghhh!" she bit her finger and stomped away from the phone. "Hate you!" she said, tears forming in her eyes as she ran downstairs. 

It was pouring like cats and dogs outside, or she would have driven away from home. "Blasted day!" had made her horny or angry and she cursed herself watching the ran slide down the tall, tall windows. They had made love against it once. And once on the rug beneath her feet, like two lowly animals. The darned place wreaked of his naked smell..

The very though made her head giddy with desire. It was like he was back, just a hair's breadth away from her neck, breathing in and out on her, whispering naughty things as she turned around to meet his lips with hers. 

And just then, she sat up in horror. The floor did not creak but two hands suddenly covered her eyes, as a warm tongue slid its way down the nape of her shoulder. For a moment, she was stone cold, until she felt a mouth firmly on hers.

"You're back!" she yelled, meeting it with unspent passion. 

"Yes. And boy do I have a present for you," he giggled, picking her up and up the stairs.



Waiting



She was always waiting for him. It only made the feeling in her stomach grow hotter, anticipation simmering, then boiling over. But that only happened when he would finally come to her. 

She never knew when he would show up. Appearing out of the darkness, her lover in the shadows. Sometimes she would be walking down the street and arms would pull her into an alley; a calm word would stop her from screaming. Heated stares, hands sliding under clothing. Being almost carelessly shoved onto the boxes, her legs roughly parted, and...

...Or there was that time he slipped into the shower with her. Holding her hips so she wouldn't fall as he slid his tongue over her clit, moving her so the water fell across her hard nipples and down her belly. Her moans were muffled when he stood suddenly and caught her mouth in a fierce kiss, his fingers replacing his tongue, forcing her to an almost savage orgasm under the spray. 

Nothing was like the first time though. She shivered in pleasure, remembering that night. Coming to that dark little club on a whim, letting the music float her into that corner, where she would look up and lock eyes with her desire. Riding on a wave fueled by a little alcohol and pure lust, she doesn't remember the small talk they shared, or really how she was led upstairs to the balcony overlooking the crowded room...

"Here."

"H-here?"

A hot kiss to the back of her neck, just under the hairline. His arms snaked around her tighter, pulling her back and hips against him. She could feel his arousal against the curve of her back, and she couldn't help but push against it, loving the tiny tremours that overcame him. The tables were soon turned when he slid a hand up, over her breasts, to hold her chin. Pulling her head back, he caught her mouth in a deep kiss, his tongue moving in slow, lazy circles, much like what his hips were doing. It was driving her mad. But...

"We can't do this here, people will-"

"See?" He pushed against her harder, sliding his other hand to the hem of her skirt, teasingly drawing it up slowly, inch by inch. "Let them see..."

"But...wait, I-" She struggled half-heartedly against his hands, against his powerful sensuality. She was pushed up against the balcony guardrail, and his body, and she could feel the outline of his hard cock through his jeans against her ass. He was kissing and nipping her throat, and one of his hands was playing with a hard nipple under her shirt. Her resistance was practically gone, but with one last attempt at modesty, she tried to call out, her words lost under the throbbing music. He just chuckled behind her, and leaned in to whisper in her ear, teasing the lobe with his tongue.

"No one can hear you...no one is watching...and admit it...don't you love getting away with this? Feel how I'm touching you, feel how fast your heart is pounding. Tell me you don't love this...tell me you don't want this..."

Her skirt was being lifted, her panties pulled to the side. She was so distracted by his words that she didn't realize that he had unzipped his pants, and was pushing his hips into her harder. Her breath caught when she felt his cock pressing against her pussy. He wasn't entering her, but definitely letting her know that he was there. Shuddering, she closed her eyes and let her head fall back onto this shoulder, relaxing her body into his. His hands went to her hips, and he moved her against him in time with the music, his cock sliding against her wetness. To the untrained eye, they looked like any other couple swaying to the rhythmic pulse. 

The music reached its height, and with a soft growl, he nipped the back of her neck and slid the head of his cock inside her tightness. Stiffening in his arms, arching back, she moaned and gripped the rail in front of her. She pushed back against him, forcing him inside of her inch by inch, until he was buried all the way. All the resistance she had was gone, shattered now. Tipping her head back, she whispered, 

"Fuck me...fuck me in front of all these people..."

He replied by thrusting hard against her, pulling his cock almost all the way out of her pussy, then slamming it back in, forcing a deep groan from her throat. He was so hard and so thick. She felt split in two, but instead of pain there was this blinding pleasure...his fingers were stroking her clit now, and she was gasping in his arms, shuddering, on the brink of cumming, but wanting him to go over with her. 

"Harder....deeper...ah, yes, fuck me, please, oh god..." 

"Mine....all mine...I'm going to cum soon, angel...going to cum deep inside of you in front of everyone here..."

Hands gripping her hips tightly, her forced her harder and harder against him, his cock hitting her g-spot. Her pussy tightened even more, and with a cry, she came apart in his arms, shaking and whimpering, her vaginal walls milking him hard, coaxing him to fall over with her...

He held her still, pounding her through her orgasm, and then shoved his cock as deep as he could inside of her. Stiffening, he shuddered and groaned deeply as he came. She could feel his heat flooding her, throbbing. They stayed that way, locked together, for several long minutes, until they could separate. Tugging her skirt down, and smoothing her hair, he gave her one last kiss, and whispered-

"Wait for me...I'll find you again, angel."

And then he turned, and was gone, leaving her well-fucked, and waiting...

Her reverie was broken by a caress to her face, the fingers warm and soft. She closed her eyes, smiling. The wait was over. For now. 



Waiting



She climbs from the cab and as it drives off, stands swaying with fatigue. She is a pretty girl with long full brown hair, an exception of stillness in the crazy yellow of the street lights, in the shifting shadows and glares from headlights, in the din of engines, tires and horns. Three bicyclists barrel down the sidewalk shouting at her for standing so stupidly. Pedestrians hurry by, nearly shouting to be heard, their words harsh and foreign.

The humid heat pulses about her, she shivers from the remembered chill of the taxi even as sweat gleams on her arms and neck. She is dressed simply in a white denim knee length skirt, a darker top, and sandals. She has the handle of her rolling suitcase in one hand. A large purse is thrown over her shoulder.

She steps forward and climbs the cement steps, the suitcase bounces tipsily behind her as if there is little in it. She stops under the apartment building's awning, facing its wide glass doors. In the wall by the door a red eye glares unblinking at her. She fumbles in her bag and pulls out her keys. She swipes an RFID fob dangling from the ring across the red eye, it blinks, stunned. The door is open. She rattles in and across the marble floor of the entryway to the elevator. After pressing the button with the upward pointing arrow, it's lettering incomprehensible, she leans on the wall and waits. She dimly hears the shudder as the elevator jerks into operation. When the door slides open, she all but falls through. She stares at the buttons. The lettering has strange combinations of unknown letters but the floor numbers are Arabic. She presses 26.

The elevator is mirrored, there seem to be a hundred two dimensional copies of her, all sagging with their heads drooping, clutching the brass rail, lurching as the elevator starts up. The eye is drawn to her pale white calves, reflected in all angles, her knees, one pushed forward with the hem of her skirt against it, and there's the flat of her stomach, demurely hidden by the knit of her top, it should be bare, you think. You feel cheated. If only the elevator would break and leave her reflected images to be admired. It would be some time before she noticed in her current dazed state.

The elevator opens, she doesn't move and the doors start to shut. She stabs at 26 again and the doors shudder and slide back open. In the hall, she peers at the door in front of her. It's number 2607. A red winking bead of a light on the wall stares at her. She looks at it, she is tired and dazed with travel. She looks to her right, down the hall, the walls are decorated with innocuous pictures of flowering trees. The next door that way is 2605. She turns to the left and pulls her suitcase down the hall, it rolls easily despite the thick carpet.

She all but collides with number 2614. It is on the end, facing her.

She sways stupidly, staring at the closed door. She presses the door bell. No one. Her key fob waved in front of the red eye causes the lock to click. The door opens easily and she enters the darkened apartment.

Diffuse city light through large windows to her right and some distance in front lets her make out an expansive room, morphing to a kitchen on her left. She walks straight forward, her sandals clicking on the hardwood floor. She steps through an arch into a darkened hall. She fumbles with her free hand and finds a switch. A lamp hanging from the ceiling turns on. Directly in front of her is a study, she can see a couple armchairs, a desk, a glass doored cabinet. The hall runs to her left. She goes down it. Next on the right is a small bathroom, next, a bedroom. The hall ends in a larger bedroom. She goes in. It occupies a corner of the building. Through one tall broad window a chaos of tall buildings glitters in the distance, through the other is another apartment building with rows of windows and balconies, curtains mostly drawn.

A switch on the wall by the door turns on a pair of lamps on either side of a large bed. The light is soft. It throws her reflection upon the windows, she looks so sweet, mingled with the city and neighboring buildings.

She lifts the suitcase onto the bed and opens it. It's empty. She pauses looking at it. Her lips are open, her tongue touches her lower lip then vanishes. She lifts the strap of her bag over her head, her hand trembling a little. She lays the bag in the suitcase. She grips her knit top, lifts it out of her skirt, and pulls it over her head, shaking her hair free. She drops the top into the suitcase.

She reaches behind her back and fumbles with her bra. She looks very entrancing, the lacy cups holding her breasts, the bones of her shoulders shifting as she twists. Her fingers tremble, clumsy.

The bra comes off, its thin straps sliding down her shoulders, down her arms, her breasts bouncing free. They are fine, seeming to inhabit some critical breathless size, any larger and they must collapse and droop against her belly. Her nipples are large and gleaming, just slightly pinker than her so white skin. One can see a fine circular tracing of blue blood vessels about their edges. Their little tips are pert and erect.

Next she undoes the buttons of her skirt. It falls down her thighs, over her knees and puddles on the carpet about her feet. She grips the elastic of her panties, white, squarish and sensible and pulls them down, stretches them over her bottom and lets them fall as well. She sits, leans forward, her breasts press against her thighs. She undoes her sandals and grabs the pile of clothing and dumps it all in the suitcase.

She stands. Her bottom is full and firm, it seems to call for hands to grip it and lift and lay her on the bed exhaustedly languorous and open. You wish you were with her, that'd you'd just spent a day of sweet agony next to her on the plane.

Perhaps she feels the same. She looks at the bed and listens to the silence and sighs.

She pulls her hair back and fumbles with her left ear, then her right. There is a brief glitter as her earrings fall onto the pile of clothes. There is sweat on her upper lip and shoulders, she is breathing quickly as if she is exercising.

She bends, rummages briefly and pulls out her bag. She opens it and takes out her cellphone and her passport with the visa safely tucked within. She clutches them for a moment, then looks about the room. She goes to the closet, opens it's dark wood door and drops to her knees. She reaches far to the right. Then straightens, hands empty. She goes to the suitcase and closes it. She picks it up and starts to leave. She hesitates in the hall, swaying with fatigue.

She turns, puts the suitcase back on the bed, opens it. She goes back to the closet, her ass is once again her high point, her cunt clearly visible, its lips, partially hidden by fine dark hair, are tightly closed. Her secrets are twice protected.

She retrieves the phone and passport and visa. She stands and all but throws them into the suitcase. In a hurry she shuts it and trundles it out, down the passage across the open expanse to the front door. She opens the door quickly. She is lit by the hall light, harsh on her soft form. The hall is empty. She puts the suitcase against the wall and steps back into the apartment.

She leans back against the door, eyes closed, breathing hard. She is so pretty there in the dimness, her waist is narrow, her shoulders and bottom pressed to the wood, her hair wild, her breasts rising and falling. Her eyes are closed and her lips are open.

She shakes her head, sending her hair flying, rubs her eyes and in the half light she drifts about the apartment. The living space, to her right is open, it seems to be cluttered with a profusion of plants. The floor is hardwood, slippery to her feet. Near the window is a round wicker table with a bowl of flowers in its center. She steps up to it letting its edge rub her thigh. It's surface is a mirror covered by a net of shellacked twine woven in an elaborate floral pattern. A bowl of cut flowers, roses and lilies, is at its center. Looking down she just sees her reflection, it is like she is locked behind an eastern screen in some harem, all but hidden in the dark, looking out at life. Two wicker dinner chairs are pulled up to the table. The sight of the two chairs, colorless yet companionable in the dimness relaxes her. She sighs and leans on one of them.

She looks out the window. A deck runs along the outside. It is dark and blocks the view down. There is the scream of a siren, blue lights flicker against the apartment building across the way and flash on the ceiling above her.

She moves along the window, flowers and plants on the window sill brush her hips and legs. She comes to the corner. She finds herself looking out across a dark expanse at the glittering city. A plane with its flashing colored lights drops over the dark emptiness, little higher than the buildings. The airport can't be much further to the left. She watches the plane with faint hopefulness.

She droops, very tired and dazed. She slips soundlessly back to the arch into the hallway to the bedroom. She pauses and looks back at the front door for a moment. She gathers herself, turns the hall light out and slips into the bedroom. The bed is a huge beige peninsula.

Her keys with the apartment's RFID fob lie where she dropped them. "Crap," she mutters, the sound echos in the silent apartment. She grabs the keys and darts back to the front door. The suitcase is still just outside. She slips the keys into an outside compartment, keeping the door open with her leg.

Next thing she knows she is in bed in the darkened room, covers pulled to her chin. She squirms comfortably, relishing the feel of silk on flesh. She suddenly sits up and listens intently, eagerly. All is dim silence. She drops back and is asleep.

The sun wakes her. It flows unimpeded through the windows, across a low table covered with a riot of flowering houseplants, across the carpet, over the covers and finally through the twists of her hair and into her eyes. The beige bedcovers shine, outdone only by the sun on her bare shoulders, arms and the bits of her face that show through her hair. 

She groans and stretches. She turns quickly, looking beside her. She is alone. She sits up, clutching the covers to her breasts. She smiles and lets the covers fall. What you wouldn't do to slip into bed beside her. She shakes her head to set her hair flying then looks around.

There is not a clock in the room if that's what she's looking for. She stretches and reaches for the table by the bed and pulls out its drawer. It is empty.

There are 2 heavy wooden dressers, their tops cluttered with african violets and curious painted wooden statuettes of babies and women. There is the open closet, she frowns at it in recollection. A second open door shows a bathroom.

She slips out of bed and hurries across to the bathroom. She bends slightly forward as she moves, shy, though there is of course no no one to see her.

The bathroom is large, sporting a whirlpool, a large shower stall, a sink and a toilet. On the sink, soap, shampoo, a hairdryer and a hairbrush, toothpaste and a toothbrush sit neatly lined up under the mirror.

Sun pours in over the gleaming fixtures from a window behind the whirlpool. On the sill is a profusion of plants intermingled with dolls sitting looking blankly into space.

She frowns at her reflection. She is so attractive, leaning there, eyes dark and still sleep and travel crazed, eyebrows and hair dark brown, hair snaking all over, lips red and full, chin, perhaps too large, dimpled and strong, a few freckles scatter about her shoulders. She has her arms crossed over her breasts, you will her to release them, and after a moment she does, laying her hands flat on the counter. There are several freckles on the silky inner sides of those breasts.

If only you were there to embrace her from behind, place your hands on her narrowing waist, slide your hands up her sides and around and under those breasts, grip them and press them together inner side to inner side, grip them and squeeze, and feel them puddle up through your fingers. Though your fingers are splayed they don't begin to cover all the territory. When you drop your hands how you would admire the red imprints left on her fair skin.

It is if as she reads your mind. She closes her eyes and murmurs "Hmmm" with her deepest back of the throat voice and fondles her nipples, far more tenderly than you would like.

She opens her eyes with a sudden laugh, sticks her tongue out at her reflection, and takes the soap and shampoo into the shower.

After a steaming glistening time, she steps out, water dripping onto the mat. She listens, the apartment is quiet save for a dieing drip from the shower head. "David?" she calls. Nothing. She shakes her head at her foolishness and shivers.

She drys her hair a bit, then with a second towel drys herself. She wraps it around her body and tucks it above her breasts and takes the hair dryer. She pauses, looking at herself in the misty dripping mirror. She undoes the towel and hangs it on the rack and then takes the dryer and a brush and works on her hair. As her arms move up and about, her breasts swing and bob.

Dry, she steps into the bright sunlit bedroom. She shivers and looks around. The thermostat is on the hallway wall, just inside the arch that leads to the living area. It reads 22. She frowns, pushes her hair back and glares at it. She shrugs and turns it to 30. There is a faint sigh and then a deeper stillness as the airconditioning cuts out. The apartment is now impossibly still. She shivers again.

She looks about, seeing the place clearly for the first time. It is very bright, the sun seems to touch everything. All the furniture seems to be wicker. Behind and to her left, next to the floor to ceiling windows facing the city, a wicker couch and pair of chairs circle a wicker coffee table with a mirrored top. There are wicker endtables and wicker stands and along the windows low wicker benches. Every flat surface is adorned with plants, plants and small wooden figurines. There are fat wooden babies nestling in the dirt amongst leaves and flowers. Wooden mothers and children in rustic Central European dress peer through grassy spider plants and twisting ivy like weird jungle explorers. On shelves climbing the walls are countless dolls in bright rural festival clothing staring vacantly every which way.

She is not as at ease as she had been in the night, drunk with fatigue. One hand lingers over her sex, the other hooks over her shoulder so her arm partially hides her breasts. She hesitates in the archway, leaning against the wall.

She slips across the open space to the front door. She moves slower then a trot, but faster than the step of someone comfortable in their own home in the morning. She is skittish as your cute daughter, serving beer to your superbowl crowd.

She opens the door a crack. The suitcase is gone. There is the sound of a door opening down the hall. Hurriedly she ducks back in.

On the kitchen counter, a rich veined granite, sits a basket of croissants, partially covered by a white napkin. Next to it is a stainless steel coffee maker. She goes and touches its thermos, it's warm. She opens the refrigerator, the cold air pours over her, highlighting the lingering wetness between her thighs. On the top shelf sits a quart of milk, a pitcher of orange juice, and a quart of french vanilla yogurt. Next shelf down, there are two bowls, one containing yellow chicken curry, the other rice with flecks of red, both bowls shrink wrapped. On the bottom is a salad. The plastic wrap makes the little pearly shrimp hiding amongst the lettuce and tomatoes seem to shine.

She checks a couple of drawers and finds silverware and cloth napkins. In the cabinets above the counter she finds gleaming glasses, cups, and plates.

Making several trips, she neatly sets the table for two, pouring both orange juices, setting the croissants between the two places. She only serves the yogurt to herself.

She pauses. The table is very attractive. There is the netted string table cloth with its large floral patterns, the mirrored table top under it, the square placemats made of thin wooden slats, the cups and saucers and the glasses and silver. The colors of the flowers in the vase in the center are brilliant in the sun. They can only have been cut yesterday.

What every breakfast craves this one has, a beautiful girl hovering by the table, clean and fresh and soft and exposed.

She glances at the door and sighs. She sits, the cushion is pleasant on her bottom, the chair's back feels odd against her spine and shoulder blades so she sits straight for the moment. The string net table cover falls far over the side of the table spreading across her thighs when she slides her chair up to the table. When she leans forward for her juice, she feels the table's edge with the netted roughness on her belly.

She looks at her napkin where it lies on the table, smiles and does not bother with it. "No clothes to stain," she murmurs. The silence of the apartment gives her pause, the countless dolls and figurines seem to listen and absorb any sound. She shivers and says nothing else.

She eats a leisurely breakfast. Glancing hopefully at the door every now and then. A croissant flake drops onto her breast, she looks at the empty chair, smiles and bends her head. With her chin hard on her chest and her hand lifting the breast from beneath she can just lick the crumb, leaving a gleaming circle of moisture on the soft skin. She looks again at the empty chair and sighs.

Finished, she pours herself a cup of coffee. It is black and strong and fills the air with a rich relaxing scent. She leans back. She has her thighs and knees pressed together. She frowns, then negligently lifts one leg and dangles it over the chair's near arm, the arm's rounded wood presses up under her knee. One hand goes to cover her sex, but she diverts it and lays it on the table. It fingers the unused napkin. If only someone was there to see her! To admire the soft thigh and exposed sex. Her lips down there are closed tight. Even when she is on her back with legs spread, those lips stay tight, hiding what lies within. Hers does not spill out like an overflowing orchid.

There is a lock clicking sound, she jumps up, smiling. "David?" She realizes the sound came from outside, down the hall. She faintly hears harsh men's voices, foreign and incomprehensible, they fade. The apartment is dead silent.

She sighs. She clears the table, putting away the clean dish and the clean silver. When she bends to put her plate and glass in the dishwasher, one has a pleasant view of the spread of her bottom, those tender lips, the backs of her soft thighs.

She straightens and moves to the spread of window facing the city. Already she seems to be less self conscious, more at ease. The fingers of one hand play idly in her thick brown hair as she gazes through the glass, the other hand is flat on the window. The glass is warm.

The sun hangs a brilliant singularity almost a foot above the tallest of the buildings. Over the deck railing she can see that between her building and the city there's a large expanse of greenish mud with wooden pilings stuck about like crazy toothpicks. In the center of the mud is a wide twisting snake of greenish yellowish water.

After standing for an indeterminate time she turns and looks about the room. She frowns. There are no clocks, there is also no TV, no entertainment center, no books or magazines even, no phone. She goes across to the kitchen. The microwave is hung under a cabinet over the cook top. She stands on tiptoe, her legs together, the tops of her thighs and bottom coming together in a tight diamond.

The microwave's controls are marked with indecipherable runs of letters. She presses several. It beeps, numbers show, and a fan starts before she happens on what must be clear. No clock makes itself evident.




Waiting



She looks at the front door. No buzzer. No chain. No spyhole.

She returns to the table, sits, and pours herself another cup of coffee. She leans forward and rests her elbows on the rough surface, resting her head on one hand. Her breasts lie flat against the table, she can feel the flowery pattern underneath them, her hair is a riot about her shoulders, strands of it reaching the table. She shifts her shoulders and feels the netted twine slip against the tender skin under her breasts, brushing her nipples.

She drifts aimlessly about the room at a loss. She goes again to the windows facing the city. She unlatches the slider and pulls it open. Heavy hot air pours over her. She steps out onto the deck. The tiles are hot under her feet. There are a couple white deck chairs and a white circular table, blinding in the sun.

She leans back against the glass, hugging the side. How nice is the sight of her ass, flattened against the window.

She glances to the right and left, she can just see the end balconies of the neighboring apartment buildings, not their sides or windows. All is deserted in the heat. Sweat starts on her forehead and neck and under her arms. Her shoulder, where her hand hooks it is slick, as are her breasts where her arm presses them, hiding them from what?

She goes hesitantly to the railing, and looks down. Way below her is a road that edges between the buildings and the flat expanse of mud. Cars whip along it. Large rocks are piled beyond it to keep the encroaching mud at bay. Huge piles of rubbish cover the rocks, stretching out over the slime. The apartment dumpsters don't have far to go to be emptied. Through the trash, some clambering over the rocks, some knee deep in the muck, figures are moving, bending, picking, filling black trash bags. She tries to imagine being down there, bending in the heat with no chance of rest or cool air ever.

A taxi pulls up to the curb below, a foreshortened European man climbs out, her face lifts with hope. He helps a woman out of the car. There is the faint slam of the door. Hope drains and she looks away despondently.

She looks toward the city. She watches another plane dropping to the hight of the office towers, it's shadow speeding, warping like a fever over the shining flats. Out here she can just faintly hear the scream of its engines.

The heat is a suffocating blanket. She steps back inside the apartment. She shivers in comfort.

She moves about. In one glass cabinet there is a lone glass stoppered carafe of red wine. There is no food in the kitchen save for the spartan fare in the refrigerator. The freezer is empty save for ice cubes. The cabinets hold no spices, no sauces, no flour, no cereal, no cans, only glasses and dishes. There are no cleaning supplies under the sink, just an immaculately clean trash can.

The bathroom drawers are empty save for several rolls of toilet paper. She looks at herself in the mirror thoughtfully, eying her cunt.

All the drawers in the study, in the bedrooms are empty.

She goes back into the living room and sits on the couch, waiting, hands on knees. At some point she realizes she is hungry again. She looks out on the deck. The shadows of the railing on the tile are much smaller and the sun is high, near the top of the window. She slides the window open. The heat washes over her. She cannot step on the tiles they are so hot. She closes the window and stands, looking out. 

Again she sets the table for two, pouring two glasses of wine and a large water which she sets at her place. She goes back to the window and stands watching the shadows. When they have all but vanished, she heats the curry and rice in the microwave, serves herself, sits and eats. When done she leans back and eyes the empty chair. She dips her finger in her wine and lets it dribble over each of her breasts. She bends her head, chin to collar bone. She cups first her left breast then her right and licks off the red beads. The wine is otherwise untouched.

Later she sleeps stretched on the sofa.

She is awakened by a flash of light and a muffled crack of thunder. Rain is pouring down in torrents. She stands by the window watching. When there is a jagged reaching knife of light, the city buildings flash into view, otherwise all she can see is a chaos of lashing rain. 

The storm lasts but half an hour, followed by a few moments of strange steaming yellow light, then the full glare of the sun returns.

Later she eats the salad on the deck. The sun has fallen behind the building. The heat is still ferocious but she relishes the change. There are still several hot puddles of rain water on the tile, she taps her foot in one, sending up little splashes.

Again there is an empty place setting with a glass of wine for company. She eats slowly, sweat beading on her shoulders, under her breasts, on her thighs, on her lips. Her bottom is slick on the plastic. She leaves the wine all but untouched, drinking her glass of water.

She takes a long shower. When she emerges darkness has fallen. She goes to the windows. There are no curtains. She stands looking at the apartment building across the way. Its windows are lit, people move about, some obscured by curtains, some not. The leaves of the plants on a stand brush her, tickling her waist.

She stands in the dark for a time, looking at the silent life across the way, gazing at the city. She sits on the couch, staring at her knees, pale white in the darkness. She nods, eyes closing.

She slips into bed and after staring at the ceiling for some time drops off to sleep.

She wakes moaning to horrible cramps. She rolls out of bed, sweating and disoriented. She stumbles more by luck than anything into the bathroom and just barely has time to throw her face over the hidden pool of the toilet, clasping the cold porcelain. Vomit rises painfully, convulsively up her throat, out her mouth.

She gets up, trembling, and rinses her mouth. She starts back for the bed then dives for the toilet once more.

She feels so sick and miserable and alone and helpless.

It is measureless time before she stumbles back into the bedroom. She barely has strength to pull the covers over herself. Morning light is already tinting the distant city buildings.

The unmerciful sun, pouring in through the windows, wakes her. She groans and stumbles into the living room and sprawls on the couch. The sun is there too.

There is a click from the door. She jumps up forcing a smile through her headache, "David!"

Two women come in pulling a cart that holds brooms, mops and a vacuum cleaner. They are dressed in jeans, t-shirts and cheap running shoes.

She stares at them dumbfounded, one hand goes over her breasts, vainly trying to hide them, the other drops between her legs.

The women are clearly expecting her. They call out "No English" and titter to each other as they get busy. One takes a spray bottle and begins misting the plants, wiping them with one cloth, watering them, then dusting the dolls and any hard furniture surfaces with another cloth. The other woman opens the sliding doors to the deck and begins sweeping.

The girl moves quickly, bent, into the bedroom. She shuts the door and slips under the covers. She can still hear them chattering. After a time there is the roar of the vacuum in the hall and then in the next room.

One of the women opens the door and comes in. She says "Jump" in a peremptory tone. The other follows her and laughs, "No no! Out!" she jerks her thumb toward the hall.

The girl hurries out and huddles on the couch, legs together, a miserable expression on her face.

After a time, one of the women calls from the kitchen, "Run!". The other appears, "No! Come! Come!"

She looks at them. They are pointing at the kitchen counter. She looks at them with confusion. "Come! Come!" they both call. She stands hesitantly. One of them pats the counter. "Fly!" The other laughs and gives her friend a push. "Up!" They both grin and call "Come, Up!"

She shakes her head and backs toward the windows. With an exasperated sound one of the women goes to the cart and takes a gun. The girl turns to run. There is a pop and she feels something sting her bottom. She twists and looks at her rump. There is a dart sticking in her flesh, she reaches back for it and then collapses.

The cleaning women get on either side of her and lift. She staggers woozily between them. At the counter they turn her. One says "Run," the other shakes her head and says "up". They easily lift her onto the granite top. They twist and roll her so that her legs are stretched lengthwise on the counter, her feet against the refrigerator. Her head dangles over the sink. It lolls back, as flexible as a baby's, she stares dumbly at her reflection in the stainless steel of the sink's other side.

One woman busies herself about her head. The water is turned on. She feels it rising up her forehead, lifting her hair. Strong fingers rub her hair getting it completely soaked. Her head is lifted and an overturned pot is slipped under it. Her head is plunked roughly upon the pot. Rich minty smelling shampoo is squirted, its aroma fills her nose. Some slips into her eyes and stings distantly. Her view of the ceiling is marred by the tears.

The other woman sets a crock-pot on the counter between the girl's thighs, she spreads the girl's legs so that one knee sprawls over space. She plugs the pot in, letting the cord lay over the girl's shin. She takes a pair of scissors and quickly snips the girl's pubic hair, then she busies herself rubbing lotion up and down the girl's legs, up over her thighs and between. With quick calloused fingers she coats the girl's cunt, pushing the lotion in between its lips. Though her thighs sprawl wide, those lips remain closed, it's like forcing medicine into the mouth of a reluctant child.

The woman dips her fingers into the crock-pot and comes up with a daub of viscous wax, gleaming like honey. She spreads it on one of the girl's labia. She presses a small white square of muslin onto the wax, counts, then pulls up with a quick snap.

The girl jerks clumsily, making an incomprehensible complaining groan which just serves to get soapy water in her mouth. Her hair is being rinsed with the dish sprayer.

The woman works efficiently dealing first with the girl's crotch then down her thighs while the girl shifts and complains. Finally the woman applies the wax to the girl's underarms. When this wax is ripped off the girl bounces and cries. Something more like consciousness is yanked into her gaze. She waves with her arms and tries to sit.

"Duck" says one woman, the other shakes shakes her head and says, "No! Down!" They push her back. She droops, still confused and weak. One woman continues rinsing her hair, the other quickly trims the girl's nails then coats them with a clear polish, they shine in their natural dark pink. Her lips are done a shade just slightly redder than her pale skin. Lastly the woman takes a second lipstick, transparent and applies it to the girl's nipples and lower lips. How they shine!

"Up" they say and pull her into a sitting position, her legs dangle, the hard edge of the counter cutting into the back of her thighs. She wobbles but manages to stay up. Her hair is streaming about her shoulders. Little droplets of water stand on her skin. Her mouth is open, a little drool gathers at its corners. Her eyes watch the women. One rinses and wipes the sink leaving it gleaming, the other wipes the counter beside the girl. They hurry about, packing their gear, talking happily to each other. The door opens, they trundle their cart through it and are gone.

After a time she becomes aware that her hair, shoulders and chest are wet and cold and that the counter is digging into her thighs. She pushes herself off, staggers, then stands upright.

She stretches, lifting her arms up, raising her breasts. She looks down at her softly shining nipples, at her oh so smooth legs, she lowers her hands and feels her silky sex, so tender. She relaxes and smiles, wetting her lips. She looks at the door, "Soon," she whispers, "He must be coming soon." The listening silence of the apartment makes her shiver.

The day passes in a haze. By dinner she feels well enough to heat some curry. After eating she showers and collapses in bed. For a time she stares at the city. The setting sun lights the buildings briefly, then as it fades their own lights begin to appear.

The sun rises suddenly behind the city. One moment there is just dull dusky glow, the next the wall above the bed is bright. A moment later the headboard gets it, it's dark wood gleams. On its shelf a dozen dolls sit, suddenly alert in the glare. Yet another moment later and the sun is worming it's persistent fingers through her hair, into her eyes.

She groans and rolls over, pulling at the covers. How you long to slip in beside her, see her eyes flash with gladness at greeting her long awaited lover or jump with horror at the sight of a stranger. You care not which. You long to grip her waist, too eager to pause for foreplay even if she's willing, and climb upon her, struggling or eager, and lodge yourself within her.

She sighs and sits and shaking her hair stretching stretching her arms up, raising those breasts as well. The sheets puddle about her thighs. In the shower she gleams and turns, rubbing her sex perhaps more than is needed, but certainly not enough to please you.

In the kitchen there is bran cereal left by the cleaning ladies the day before. She has a bowl of this and yogurt. She looks at the table but eats standing.

The coffee on its timer is freshly made. She pours a cup then goes and sits on the balcony, feeling the sun on her skin. She sits until she starts to feel too hot, then slips back in.

She stands looking at the front door. You wish with her that someone would come, unlike her, you don't care who. Any man would suit you.

Through that door she hears the two cleaning ladies talking loudly to each other. There is no surprise when they come in. She sits on the couch, exposed, discouraged, while they restock the refrigerator, clean, water the plants, and finally beckon her into the kitchen.

She climbs docilely onto the counter. One of them shampoos her hair while the other goes over her skin, using tweezers to pluck the individual hairs missed the day before. The pricks are slight, the woman's fingers rough, invasive and uninterested.

After they have gone she drifts about the apartment, lifting dolls and looking at them, then setting them back.

You are growing tired of her. You wish that at least she would lie spread on the couch, fingering herself, spreading those lips whose contents are so annoyingly hidden. It would pass the time for her, you think encouragingly.

She sits on one of the armchairs, possibly for novelty, and stretches, entirely without self consciousness now. She frowns and twists and lifts the cushion. There hides a thin gray Dell laptop, it's powercord a twisted jumble beside it.

She opens the lid and it dings it's little TA-DA riff and flashes a quick Resuming message before showing a logon dialog. There is just one user. Zenia. She stares, her legs start to shake, her calves jiggling. She dashes across the apartment, through the arch and into the bathroom. She is wrackingly sick.

After a time she stands, takes the cup from the sink and rinses her mouth and spits. She looks at herself in the mirror. What is more desirable than a pale, wide-eyed, wild haired girl looking at herself in a bathroom mirror?

She goes back and lays the computer on her lap. It's underside has just started to warm.

She clicks on Zenia and looks at the password prompt. Carefully she types 'd' 'a' 'v' 'i' 'd'. It complains about the password's incorrectness and she relaxes a bit. She is about to give up, leaving the computer a locked enigma. She changes the 'l' for a '1' and finds herself looking the desktop.

The wallpaper is a photo of the oh so blue eyes, forehead, and rangy blonde hair of a beautiful woman peering coyly around an ornate doorjam. Beyond and dreamily out of focus is a bedroom dominated by a gauzy canopy bed.

She stares at the image. Her lips are open, her tongue visible, she is breathing hard.

In the top left hand corner of the desktop, obscuring one of the whorls of the doorway, is a folder icon, "My Pictures". Just below is a document, "fucked.doc". 

She opens "My Pictures" and is presented with a myriad of thumbnails and folders. The thumbnails are all of the blonde woman, so slim, so beautiful.

There she is sitting, legs crossed, on a ornate bedroom chair, wearing just a slip of a wine colored thing, applying lipstick to her soft lips, a high heeled sandal tips one foot way forward, the other is dangling in the air.

There she is standing in front of a row of gleaming white urinals, wearing a fishnet bodystocking, it may hide as much in total as the slip, but it reveals so much more.

There she is pulling the body stocking up over her breasts

There is the close-up of a tender little breast, a finger adjusting the net so its string does not press roughly on the delicate nipple. The netting fits around the nipple like a tiny frame.

She opens one of the girl standing on a balcony. The resolution is very high. It is like being on the balcony beside her.

She closes the folder of photos. She opens the document.

There in large fonted letters is "Please call the American Embassy. I am being held captive in 2614. Reward!" The last word flashes.

She pages down and reads, "Shit, it did not work. I left the laptop lid open in front of 2613. I rang their buzzer and ducked back in here. I waited. When I opened the door, the fucking thing was like lying just outside this door, closed."

"I tried 2615. The same. Do they not understand? Maybe all these apartments are like taken by David's company. I do not know what to do."

"I have been here two weeks. I think that's right. There's no way to keep track. Why hasn't he come? Why is he doing this to me?"

"Time passes so slowly."

"I thought it was just like the games we play. He like calls my cell and tells me to wait in his study, stretched on the couch wearing just these black high heels. He'll walk in and I'll want to like jump him and wrap my legs around him and have him fuck me against the wall. I always control myself though, and lie waiting, maybe just shifting my legs a bit, David likes to take the lead. 

"This was gonna be no different, except, well, we were going to have a week all to ourselves with great beaches and casinos and no work. I arrived first and waited for him like he wanted. Except I'm not like stupid, I hid my passport and some clothes and money and my Visa card in the closet. What did it matter? He'd find me waiting just the same."

"Those cleaning bitches, when they came that first morning, me thinking it was David too when the door opened! They were so damned thorough, the apartment was like spotless to begin with, why did they have to vacuum the closet? I started yelling, saying the stuff was mine. Tried to grab my passport from them. Got a dart in my ass."

"It's only luck this laptop survived. I was lieing on the couch playing solitaire when I heard the door. I slapped the lid down and slid it under the cushion and then jumped up ready to greet David."

"When they left, I found they'd like taken the sheets off the bed and the towels were all gone. Bitches."

"I am way scared. It's all too easy to imagine what can happen to young white women out here."

"This morning I waited by the front door. When the cleaning bitches came, I slammed a chair on one and tackled the other. I got another tranquilizer dart in my ass."

"What I am going to do is, when the sun is low, like early evening near as I can figure, I am going to leave, naked as I am. I am going to run down the stairs, no being trapped in the elevator for me, I am going to run into the street, calling for help." 




Waiting



"In the meantime I cannot sit here doing nothing! I would like go crazy with imagining what will happen. I am going to key in everything. It'll be like my blog, but just for me and hopefully the police when I get to the embassy. Just don't let it be found by the cleaning bitches! Typing will be like something to do."

"How I wish in my blog I hadn't been so careful to protect David's anonymity. I described our affair but you could never figure out who he is. My photographer took his place. The police looking at it trying to trace me will find it no guide to reality."

"Here is what happened. I'm going to just like let my memories come, I am going to keep my mind as blank as possible. I don't want to think or know."

The girl glances at the scrollbar. She is only a fraction into the document. She stands and carries the laptop to the table. She plugs its power into a wall socket behind a stand of grassy flowering plants. The little wooden babies hidden in the foliage stare at her. Up close they are weird, their round heads and painted features almost feral.

She sits at the table. Her reflection through the netting of the table cloth is so soft, her hair sways about her. The edge of the netting rests stiff on her thighs. She turns her attention back to the document and reads:

--------------------------------------------------------------

It started like six, well seven now, years ago.

I'd just watched "Nobel House", all six tapes of it. It'd been raining all day and my Uncle David had made us watch it and I'll admit it'd been like OK. My cousin Celeste had sat through like 10 seconds of it, yawned and said in a loud voice, "This is as boring as shit," and slouched out, but I'd thought it way thrilling. After it was over I'd slipped away to be by myself. I was walking back and forth, eyes closed, imagining myself a cute Chinese girl under the protection of a rich and powerful tai-pen. Just when things were getting good, I bumped into someone who hadn't been there a second ago. I opened my eyes.

My Uncle David stood over me looking down.

My mouth fell open. I like totally freaked. I couldn't move or say a thing.

He goes, "Your mother has been looking for you for half an hour. She wants you." Then he left, shutting the door behind him.

My Uncle David'd rented this big house on the shore and the whole family had gathered. The place was packed, I had to share a room with my cousin Celeste, my little sister Rose and some other girl I can't remember. Celeste was 4 years older than me and way surly. Rose was a pain and I can't remember who the other girl was, maybe my cousin Shelley. It's like not important.

The idea was that we were all going to spend our days on the beach and eat lots of seafood and have bonfires at night and be treated by my Uncle David and bond as a family. My mother was a little bit hard up since the divorce and she hoped to get something out of David.

All this might been OK a year before but about then I was feeling like totally antisocial and wanted to spend all my time by myself. I told myself this was because I was like totally unhappy and because my life was a piece of shit. Really it was because I thought everyone around me was like so stupid and when given the chance and not bothered I could imagine myself in all kinds of romantic situations, not at all like being at the beach with a bunch of cousins and aunts and uncles and sisters and mothers.

At that beach house there was like no place to be by yourself. That shared bedroom was out. There was always some commotion or another. Any of the bathrooms, somebody'd start banging on the door just when I got to the good part in my fantasy. The beach was crowded and like sandy. I was just feeling so closed in.

Then I realized Uncle David had a room to himself, the only one who wasn't sharing. I started slipping in there. Sometimes I'd pace about the little room, sometimes I'd sit on the floor with my back to the bed, sitting on the bed seemed like invasive and so I just sat, and closed my eyes. All the while placing myself in some adventure located any place foreign.

Uncle David was a figure of romance in my family. He'd been drafted and gone to Vietnam. Instead of coming home he'd managed to stay out there. When he did come back, some 10 years later, he was rich. Then he formed a company with some other guys and made even more money. He and his wife had just split. My mother said that was all for the best, she'd always suspected Ruth (his wife) of bad mouthing his relations.

Well, I got myself downstairs in a hurry. I figured he'd be telling my mother. My mother was then going to lecture me on consideration and women's issues and who knows what until she was blue in the face and I was like frozen with boredom.

That didn't happen. She couldn't remember what she'd wanted me for originally. Now she wanted me and Rose to come shopping with her. She whispered in my ear that our Uncle David'd given her her birthday present early so she could get Rose, herself and me some nice things to help us remember the vacation. 

That evening in the restaurant I kept looking at him. Later when the grownups sat talking on the porch I lay on the salty grass in the dark and looked at him. There, in the flesh, right before my eyes was the kind of guy I'd been dreaming up. I imagined him in the jungles pinned down with his buddies. I didn't linger on that because I couldn't like see a place for myself. I couldn't imagine myself as a Vietnamese village girl. I imagined myself the daughter of a Bangkok CPA, down on his luck, who sells his daughter to a place whose purposes I could only dimly imagine. I imagined myself breaking free and running into the street and into David's arms. The only thing I didn't imagine him as was a middle-aging fellow sitting on a porch with his middle-aging siblings.

Two days later, the next to last day of our two weeks, when I slipped into his room, my cousin Celeste was like sitting on the bed. She went, "You are to stay out of my Dad's room."

I go, "And why is that?"

"Because if you don't I'm going to beat the shit out of you."

I said, "You can like watch if you want".

She jumped on me and we rolled out into the hall kicking and clawing and shouting. That was when the lecture came, on how to express one's feelings with words, to keep hands and feet to oneself, blah blah blah.

I next saw him 6 years later. I stood on his front step and rang the bell and when he opened the door it was like I was thirteen again. I shivered and my head felt light. 

"Uncle David, I've run away from school," I said, "I like need someplace to crash."

I meant to sound pitiful, but I couldn't help myself, I started to giggle. How many times in my fantasies had I like fled some rapist or slaver or somebody and thrown myself on my uncle's mercies?

I remember one guy just a week or so before, (I'd long been supplementing my fantasies with boys). It was after a college mixer. This is like so not important. He stopped in the middle of his panting exertions, and goes, "Why do you have your fucking eyes closed?". I go, "It's because it feels so good." Of course, it was really because I was trying with all my might to make it my uncle who was stuffed inside me.

After a moment I calmed down and said, "I'm sorry, Uncle David, I'm like so nervous. I really do need a place to stay."

He looked at me blankly for an instant. Never once in any of my scenarios had he failed to recognize me. "Oh, you're my niece Zenia right?" Then the critical words, "Come in."

He led me up some dark narrow stairs and into a long thin living room. His place was dieing for renovation, I mean those stairs! Dark with this moldy old wood railing.

"A drink?" he asked, "I was just getting myself something when the doorbell rang."

"Vodka tonic," I said. It was what my mother drank, I thought it sounded like classy.

After chatting a bit about my mother and other family, he asked why I wanted to leave school.

"College is so like unreal. What does anything they teach have to do with my life? Math-for-the-humanities? Give me a break. The last useful thing I learned in school was keyboarding and that was in 6th grade. College's worse than high school even, it's like a dream world, like a fevered dream of life, like quarantine."

Actually I'd picked the school because it was close to where he lived. I'd never had the slightest intention of being there any longer than it took me to get into his bed.

"You've only been there a month," he said, "I've been out of the country. I had it on my list to get in touch with you and take you to dinner this next week."

I felt warm. "It's life I want," I said. "and you" I added in my thoughts.

"Have you talked about this with your mother?"

"What for."

He was quiet.

I figured a little more pleading would help so I went, "Uncle David, well I was hoping, I mean, could you like find me a job?" I knew he'd helped some of my older cousins. "They should stand on their own two feet, he spoils them," my mother always said.

"You're eighteen?" he asked.

"Almost nineteen."

His expression hardly changed when he said, "Alright. You're very pretty. There shouldn't be any trouble with getting you work. Where were you planning on staying?"

"Couldn't I like stay here with you till I have some money and find a place? I really don't want to go back to that dorm even for a night. It's like the night of the living dead out there. You must like have a guest room."

"OK," he replied, "I'll deal with the school and your mother and I can drive you out there Saturday to get your things."

"Don't bother. There's nothing there I want. I'm like starting fresh."

We had dinner, something delivered from a french restaurant and wine. He said "You're lucky to find me here. I just got back."

"Not so lucky," I admitted, "This last week I've been down here every afternoon, walking up and down the street. About now I'd have been hightailing it back to the station to catch the last train."

He showed me a guest room. It was near the top of the narrow townhouse. Up four flights of stairs! His room was one floor up. The top.

At 1 am I slipped up those stairs and into his room. Though I'd done this like a thousand times before, this time was real. I wanted time to like stop so I could live the moment forever.

I had just a white slip of a thing on. It seemed to fluoresce in the gloom. I moved silently to his bed. He was on his back, head to one side. In the dark I couldn't see much of him which was just as well because guys like look so stupid in their sleep. I lifted the covers and crawled over him. I put a hand on his hips, felt his pelvis through his pajamas, I let my hand rove it's way softly over the material till it discovered his fly. He had a slight erection already, it is so convenient that men get them in their sleep! As gently as I could I lifted his cock and positioned myself over it. My cunt is naturally open, it's entrance easy to find.

I looked down at him. His eyes had opened, he was looking up at me. I put a finger to his lips. I felt him swelling up within me the same time I dropped on him, working my hips about as I fell to get him rubbing against all my places. I pulled the straps of my slip off my shoulders, I wanted him to see my chest with my cute little breasts bouncing up and down, his eyes remained on my face though. I unbuttoned his pajama tops and rubbed myself against him. His chest hair felt so good against my tits. I began running myself up and down him, more and more frantically, my breasts jiggling wildly. When I came it started in the arches of my feet, like all my good ones. It shook me all over, exploding in my cunt. I felt so good. I cried out and collapsed.

When I came to there was a bowl of grapes on the bed by the pillow and a glass of wine on the end table. He was sipping another.

"We've had some good times together before," I sighed, "In my mind, but that was the best."

He said nothing. He set his wine down on the table on his side. He rolled me on my back. The bed shook and I was looking up at him, my thighs on either side of his. He slipped in and we began to fuck. It went on and on. I came and came and after each time he was still hard in me. I could never tell if he'd come or not. His hands were active and gentle, in my hair, caressing my breasts and nipples, around my thighs, under my ass, and up to the streaming place where we joined. 

I remember once, returning to this world, feeling him start to move in me again, saying almost in tears, "Shit, again?"

I awoke. It was like 8:30. Sun poured through an open window. I felt so tired and achy. He was awake, looking at me. I could not read his expression. I sat up, groaning. My hips felt like they'd been like stretched on a rack. A baby couldn't've left me so ruined. I took the wine and sipped it. 

My little white slip still pooled about my waist, covering nothing. He still had on his pajamas, covering everything.

"Wine for breakfast," I said.

He picked his cell off the bedside table, flipped it open and pressed a button. "This is David," he said, "I won't be coming in today. Must've picked up something in France."

He listened, then smiled slightly, "Right, don't want to start an office pandemic. I'll be on email later and you can call if anything absolutely needs me. Right, yeah, expect me on that conference call this afternoon unless you hear otherwise."

I felt so hot.

I reached for his cock. Squirming so my lips were on a trajectory for his fly, his flat chest, bared by his unbuttoned pajama tops, zoomed in my vision. He put a hand on my shoulder and caught my reaching hand with his other. He pulled me up flat on top of him and then rolled me over, slipping into me and spreading my thighs. 

I made a complaining sound. My joints ached and I would've welcomed a little variety. Plus I'd been wanting to taste his cock, taste us both, feel it in my mouth, on my tongue, feel his balls and length with my fingers. I soon forgot my issues and was moaning with rising pleasure.

He never has let me go down on him nor has he gone down on me.

When I awoke again I was alone. I stood up and straightened with an effort. I wished that David was there so I could demonstrate my bowlegged sea walk. I could smell myself. What a stink! I pulled my slip back up, pulling the straps over my shoulders and ventured out onto the landing. I heard David's voice and slipped down the stairs. The second landing down opened on his study. He sat on a stuffed chair by a bay window, a coffee table was covered with papers, he had his laptop open and was talking on his cell.

He looked expressionlessly at me and went on talking. I pulled my slip up, stuck my tongue out at him, then climbed back up the stairs. Going up ached worse than coming down. I took a long hot shower, then poked around. In the room he'd tried to put me in I found the closet stuffed with clothes my size. My cousin Celeste's I guessed. I knew from my mother that she was in art school in Rome. "David spoils her so," I heard my mother's voice go in my head, "Of course she has no need to earn her living like the rest of us."

I dropped a linen sundress over my head, it was quite lovely, ivory with light green abstract patterning at the hem and chest. 

I went down, pausing in the study door only long enough to raise that dress so he could see I was as available as ever, then I went on down to the kitchen. Waffles and bacon awaited me in a warmer. Orange juice was poured, coffee was in the thermos of a Brun maker.

The morning, what was left of it, passed slowly. I'd expected to be in his arms the whole day but he worked calmly.

"David," I said, sitting down on his knee when he hung up the phone, "Like where's the TV."

He kissed my neck, then lifted me off and reached for his laptop. "There isn't one."

"What! Like what's up with that? How do you survive?"

Eventually, while moving about his study, his voice on the phone a steady background, I discovered that one of the bookshelves was full of expensive pornography. I settled down with something called "Nous Deux" and read and looked at the prints and got hotter and hotter.

Once I tried to kneel between his legs. He lifted my head, shook his and went on with his call.

At dinner he said that he'd arranged for me to have an audition with a photographer the next day at 10. After dinner we fucked. First on the couch in living room, then he carried me up the 4 narrow flights of stairs to his waiting bed.

The photographer, Serge, was quite pleased with me. He took it for granted that I would pose nude. I was careful not to show my surprise. Thinking about it, it did seem kinda obvious and I found didn't mind. Still it wasn't like what I'd expected an uncle to arrange.

We worked all morning and most of the afternoon. He had this couch sitting in front of this artistic screen, all blotches of colors. I posed on the couch. At first I was a little like nervous so I started one of my fantasies, the one where Uncle David is like an English lord and he sees me, a peasant girl, when out riding. He has me brought to the manor house to work as a maid and we're off. It was all I could do to remember to keep my fingers under control.

Serge was entirely dispassionate. I could've been a still-life of fruit for all he seemed to care. He just gave me a flow of instructions and fussed with the lights now and then. It was kinda funny, there in my head, Uncle David would be pulling down the front of my maid's costume paying no attention to my feeble protests, and then Serge's voice would go, "Lean a little forward, honey, cup your breast, so sweet!"

Eventually Serge grunted and said we were done for the day. He sat on the couch where I'd been lying shortly before under various amounts of light and undid his pants. "You must tip the photographer" he said, "Honey, I'm quite strung out from the sight of you."

I took him in my hands and licked him and surrounded him with my mouth. I imagined he was David so I wasn't cheating anybody, including his wife, I'd noted he wore a fat wedding band.

He lifted me up and lay me on the couch, one leg thrown over it's back. He knelt between my legs and wet his fingers and explored me with them and then with his tongue and oh it felt so good. He crawled over me and made himself at home inside me. He'd only penetrated for like a second when he pulled out and spurted over my chest.

He looked at me for a moment, me feeling like a bit unsatisfied. He sighed as he zipped himself up, "Sweet, but I don't do those kinds of shots."

"You would be wise," he went on, "Not to either, they reduce your value with businessmen."

He saw I wasn't quite understanding, "Whom I can connect you with, if you wish."

I stared at him, thinking about Uncle David. Did he know of this?

"That's where the money is, honey" Serge went on, "Not art. With modeling, stick to nudes, the occasional lesbian sets I can arrange are OK and masturbation is always sweet."

I thought about the money. "OK" I said.

"I am associated with Frozen Youth. It is a large website. I also put some pictures on my own website and sell the prints. The ones I think have more aesthetic values. 'More' being a very relative term here. You will be under contract to me. You can have a lawyer look at the contract if you like."

"Oh I trust my uncle."

"You are wise, he is very trustworthy."

As I took a cab back to David's, a contract and money in my purse, my cellphone rang. It was David. I told him about the businessman connection and asked if it bothered him. He said no. Then he told me how he wanted to find me when he came home.

In the townhouse, after showering I waited on a chair in his study, lit by a single lamp, reading "Nous Deux", naked save for the translucent red slip found in Celeste's dresser, right where he'd told me it would be.




Waiting



My cell rang and this time it was Serge. The girl he'd arranged to entertain this guy had developed some disgusting and unsupressible cold symptoms. I wrote David a note and left it on the cushion of the chair. I pulled something slinky of Celeste's over the slip, perched on a pair of her high heels and headed out.

I got back around 3AM and it was 3:30 when I slipped in beside David in the dark, showered and soft and warm. "Miss me?" I whispered.

"There was your note," he murmured.

"It was a good one huh? Along the bottom of one of my new photos. I'll tell you what happened."

I said, "I was definitely not at my ease. I met the guy in a Starbucks, he was like a little fat and kinda like bald. His eyes bulged when he saw me, and he almost couldn't get the code phrase out. We had lattes to calm his nerves."

"Mmm, that's nice," I murmured, he'd rolled me on my back and entered and he'd sprawled his chest to one side so his head was propped on one hand and the other was fondling my tits. "I was hoping you were gonna do something like this. Oh!"

"Well, going into his hotel room with him I was like uncertain how to start, what a dope I was, it was like falling off a log. That guy was in such a rage from being like next to me in Starbucks, in the cab, in the hotel elevator that he all but threw me on the bed and was in me before I'd finished bouncing. That one was fast. Then I took my dress off, leaving my high heels on, and gave him a blowjob. I give a good blowjob, David, you should like let me show you! Then we cuddled and he talked about his daughter who is in college in Oregon, boring. I tried to get him undressed but he didn't want me to see him naked so he went into the bathroom and put on his pjs. Then he found a porn flick on the TV and I got on my hands and knees and he fucked me and watched the movie for about an hour. He came again and then I left."

"And you know David, the whole evening was like so not important. What was important was that every second I imagined I was with you. Oh God! That's so good." and then I could not talk, I could not breath, I felt so wild. When I could think I was just thankful that my antics had just like made sex with David so much better. We fucked until the sun lit the curtains.

A couple weeks later David went off again on business. In the middle of the night I was like awake, staring at the ceiling. I called his cell.

I went, "This apartment is way creepy with just me in it. The stairs are narrow and always seem dark even with all the lights on. There are these creaks and groans. Also," I said, "My mother is like bugging me. She calls me every evening, she goes: 'Have you reconsidered what you're doing? You're wasting your life and breaking my heart. blah blah blah. You are imposing on your uncle, do you realize his funds and generosity aren't infinite? what would your cousins think if they knew you were getting more than your fair share? do you remember that I need a new car and is your uncle gonna be so willing to give me a little help when he's supporting my daughter? and honey I really have my eye on a Lexus, blah blah blah."

I heard him laugh and went on, "And to top it all off, you have like no TV and no entertainment center. And you said you'd throw me out if I brought one in, which, David, I think is so mean. It can be really so boring here." 

He asked me if I had a plan to remedy the situation. I said I thought I should get an apartment but I added that if he thought I was giving up the keys to his place he had another think coming.

"Also," I said in a softer voice, "I don't think we're ready for the family to know about us." I was hoping he'd say that it was OK to tell them, I would've given anything to be around when my cousin Celeste, David's daughter, heard. But he didn't.

Well, next morning there was a message on my cell and I went and looked at the cutest little one room place not a block away. I took it and then so that my Mom would know where the rent was coming from, I gave her a month's subscription to Frozen Youth. It at least gave her something else to harangue me about when she called.

I fell into this routine that was like way pleasant. I'd model for Serge maybe twice a week, I'd entertain maybe a couple guys, and except for when he was traveling, I'd sleep with David every night.

I'd have to say he was a bit mechanical. He wanted to be on top, if I tried anything different he'd take my hand and look at me and I'd like be his niece and do as he wanted. Which was not so bad, he'd like start going and after a while I'd feel like my brains were oozing out of my skull and the room would fill with my moans and cries. 

Any other guy I'd had, if they wouldn't go down on me or let me bounce on their bones, it'd be see you later dickhead. With David I'd wait for him stretched on the couch, sitting on an easychair, legs over either arm, or kneeling on the dinner table looking down at my reflection in the dark polished wood, or sitting on the stairs facing the front door and when he'd come in I'd just melt.

Those nights when I entertained some guy, I'd slip in next to David afterwards and I'd always like tell him what had happened, and he'd always roll me on my back and fuck me until the morning light glowed in the window. Being under him was just like so completely natural. Being like a Vice President couldn't be a very demanding job because he often went in with next to no sleep.

Here is something I remember from that time which makes me none too happy to remember now, at the time I didn't think anything much of it, it seemed like not important.

I lay waiting for David, I had my head propped on the arm of the couch, my laptop resting warm on my stomach, it's screen propped against my thighs, I was IMing with 2 girls I knew through Serge. Really I was thinking of David and they were doing most of the chatting.

One went, "You remember Dawn?"

"The redhead with the real puffy nipples?"

"Yeh."

"Haven't seen her recently."

"Me neither. I thought she'd moved or gotten a boyfriend or given up modeling or something. I got this email from her just this morning. It was in my spam folder and I almost didn't notice it, it had this really weird email address. It said something like 'I am in such trouble. I don't know where I am. I have just managed to get to a computer and am sending mail to everyone I can think of. I don't know where I am. The man is Chinese. I am in China I think. He is ancient. You've got to take this email address to the police. I hear someone coming. I'm clicking send.'"

"Shit. What'd you do?"

"I deleted it. I think it was just weird spam. I mean really. Still. I wish Dawn would turn up. Maybe I'll ask Serge."

"Make sure you empty your trash. You can't be too careful about viruses."

"Right. I hear you and Ann had a hot session with Serge."

Right about then I heard David on the stair and I opened up a shot of me so he could like look at it while we fucked and I didn't think anything more about that email. It was just so not important.

Now I think about it and am scared.

One night maybe 4 months later I was like standing in front of a line of marble urinals, pulling a fishnet body stocking on and off. I was none too happy. Even though they'd had an extra cleaning crew go through at 1AM after the last train'd left, my feet could like sense every homeless type who'd taken a piss during the day. I wished like hell that Serge had opted for the fast food emporium or the escalator or the benches where during the day commuter drones waited for their number to come up. No. When Frozen Youth rented the train station and passed out a signup sheet, he'd picked the men's room. He kept telling me how sweet the pictures were going to turn out.

As he clicked away, pausing now and then to fuss with the lighting, I asked, "This place always been a train station?"

"Far as I know, honey."

"Weird."

"Pull the thing off your shoulders so it's just under your tits."

"I mean the whole place must've been like a palace when it was new and everything was nice, not rundown and dirty. The ceilings're so high there're pigeons flying about, there's marble everywhere, there're ornate things everywhere, chipped now, fancy arches, statues even. I mean look at this restroom. It's amazing. Just for commuters? They must've been out of their minds."

"Fiddle with the netting and your nipple, honey."

"Today they'd just build a platform and locate a Starbucks next door. You'd have to buy coffee to take a piss." 

"Move the thing so a string is down your slit, make sure your clit's against it. Then move it about and then arrange it so it's comfortable."

"My mom says my great great granddad was a banker here in the city. He owned just about everything, including the guys who owned what he didn't own. She says the rich really knew how to be rich back then, they used their money for the good of the community. I bet he had quite a bit to do with building this place. I bet he was real straight-laced. And here I am. His great great granddaughter, naked in the men's room."

"Move over and lean on the stall there, honey," said Serge, "My grandfather was a painter. He hung out on the Cote d'Azur with Matisse, Renoir and those guys."

"Was he any good?"

"Second rate. But it meant he wasn't in Russia in 1917."

"What happened then? They have some kind of natural disaster? Like New Orleans?"

Serge just sighed.

"OK so I wasn't paying attention when they taught about the great earthquakes of the dark ages. Sue me."

I stopped talking. Three guys were standing by the first sink, watching. They were wearing suits. One was smoking, another took a pull at a flask and passed it to the third.

"Friends of your uncle's, honey," Serge said sourly, starting to disassemble his paraphernalia, "The wife's gonna be giving me my tip when I get home. She doesn't like being disturbed, gets mean."

I started to pull the stocking off, one of the guys said in faintly tinted English, "Keep it on". Another of them laughed. I pulled on my jeans and tube top. My netted belly looked really wild. I stepped into my sneakers. 

"You guys have names?" I asked, walking toward them. When I got close I could smell the vodka.

The guy with the cigarette tossed it in the trash. "Vanya," he said. "Vanya," said the guy next to him, he was a bit taller with a squarish face, the remainder paused, looking at me with a grin, his front teeth were twisted a bit and pushed out, "Vanya".

"That makes it easy," I said.

They led me out into the huge space. There were partially and totally undressed girls here and there in pools of bright light. It was after four in the morning by the large clock that hung over the arrivals/departures board. The three Vanyas talked amongst themselves in some language. I knew it wasn't English, Spanish and probably not French. That narrowed it a bit. One had a proprietary hand on my arm.

Vanya Badteeth said something that caused them all to stop and look around and then nod. Tall Vanya explained it to me, "We were going to take you back to our hotel, Vanya, however, points out that there really is no need." 

Smoking Vanya, he'd lit another cigarette, rubbed himself against my back, put his arms around me, unbuttoned my jeans and pulled them down. He pulled my tube over my head. "The sneakers can stay," he said.

"Not here," I complained, "Not in the middle of the concourse."

The third Vanya looked around at the various naked women and photographers, many who were looking our way. He took a deep breath and shouted in a carrying voice, "You guys! You're not to be seeing us, you're not to be remembering us, you're not to be photographing or videoing us. Understand?"

Smoking Vanya said in a normal voice, "Or else."

"The 'Or else' it goes without saying," goes Loud Vanya with a smile.

Smoking Vanya stepped in front of me, put three rough fingers from each hand in the netting in front of my cunt. With only the slightest effort the netting ripped, leaving a gaping tear. He led me to one of the many round white tables near the fast food, real cheap plastic Walmart type tables. He lifted me onto it. I felt the plastic bend under my weight. He took my knees and spread my legs. He stood between them, staring at the ripped fishnet and my gaping sex. I looked down, my clit, my blood engorged inner lips, my vagina, all spilled into view, like the complicated parts of some tropical flower.

He undid his zipper and pulled his cock out. He stepped forward and slid it in. I felt his belt jammed against my belly, the sides of his fly down my sensitive lips. I gripped his hips with my thighs. I saw my sneakers waving in the air. He lifted me. I clutched his back, my breasts pressed to his coat.

I felt breath on my neck, felt fingers brush my ass, heard a tear, felt hands spread my cheeks, felt a cock in my crack. I twisted. Vanya Badteeth was right behind me. He found my asshole and started to push. I closed my eyes and tried to relax, burying my face in the coat in front of me.

"It feels so weird," I whispered. He pushed up, Smoking Vanya was pushing me down, "I've never had back there. Go easy. Oh shit, that hurts."

With four hands gripping my ass and legs they began bouncing me up and down like some kind of sack. "Easy easy," I gasped, then giggled. "I'm not a trashbag and this isn't garbage day, you don't have to stuff anything else in."

"Hey Vanyas," called a voice. Loud Vanya stood on one of the benches that faced the gates. They carried me over. Loud Vanya pulled down his zipper and took out his cock. His buddies tipped me and he took my head and guided my mouth to him.

I thought what with concentrating on giving head and being out there in the open I wouldn't come, but what was happening down below was like so intense, I felt my calves cramp, I gripped a Vanya with my thighs and just had presence of mind to let go of the cock and get my head clear when I began to moan with pleasure.

They waited a moment, then Loud Vanya put my hand back on his cock and I got back to work.

When they were done the three Vanyas stood around me talking, saying who knows what, me leaning weak kneed against one of them. They passed the flask amongst themselves, Smoking Vanya lit another cigarette. After a moment Loud Vanya slapped me on the ass, "You may be stringy, but you're a good fuck." They laughed uproariously and left. 

I pulled on my clothes hurriedly. Outside dawn was just rising about the city. Occasional cars floated by on the wide street. It was 4:30 by the great clock on the tower over the colonnaded entrance. I took my cell and called a cab.

Back at David's, I took a long shower. I was looking forward to crawling in next to David, squeaky clean and soft. I didn't much want sex for once, I just wanted to feel him next to me. Then when he'd gotten up to go to work, I was gonna sleep the day away.

When I stepped out of the bathroom, onto the landing, not bothering with clothes, there stood Celeste, leaning against the wall. She wore jeans, a blouse and sandals. I felt a bit sorry for her, she had a slim figure like mine, maybe better even, but she had a face that would embarrass a horse.

I go, "So are you going to beat the shit out of me again?"

"You haven't changed," she said with a smile, "I just thought I'd say hello to my cousin. You want some coffee?"

I shook my head, "Later, I'm just too worn out. You're back? David didn't say anything"

She noticed that I'd omitted the "Uncle" and smiled a tight smile. "He wouldn't. Dad's a tomb when it comes to information. I've got a job at the City Art Museum. I'm moving back into my old room for now. Well, the room I used to have when I stayed here. I hated that room and hated this place."

"Maybe then you'll find you still hate it and you won't be here long," I said.

She shrugged. "We'll see. Sure you won't have the coffee? I thought it would be nice to get acquainted."

"Later," I yawned, "Like way later."

I slipped into David's room, being careful to leave the door open behind me. The room glowed softly with early morning light. I crawled under the covers and crouched over him. I took his cock and planted it in my entrance. He liked to be in the lead and normally I let him, but this time I didn't care. I felt him harden and I wiggled my way down till I was pressing myself hard against his pajamas and he was swelling rapidly within me.

He sighed but didn't push me off which was what I'd been afraid he'd do.

I lay flat on him, lifting my legs so they were on his, putting my head against his shoulder. This made it easy for him to roll me which is what he did. He is so predictable.

He squirmed a bit, slipping between my thighs which I lifted as I pressed my hips up against his. He began to work. He was considerate as always, angling his attack so he rubbed me hard where I liked to be rubbed. I closed my eyes and realized I wasn't going to come. No orgasms as far as the mental eye could see. I let him go for a bit, partially to let him have his treat, partially out of the hope that something would start to happen.

Nothing.

I sighed and began to moan, softly at first, then louder, trying to mimic how I sounded normally. I bounced my ass, twisted, clutched his back. Then I cried out as loud and long as I could and gripped him to me, wrapping my legs around his ass, my arms around his back. Slowly I relaxed and let my head fall to the side against the pillow.

He stayed within me for a time then pulled out and got up to get ready for work.

When I awoke in the early afternoon the townhouse was empty. Later Celeste came in. We were polite, but distant, like the Atlantic was still between us and it'd frozen over. In the evening Serge called. Frozen Youth had come up with plans for a photoshoot in Indonesia. There were great beaches, ruined temples, etc. Somebody'd even found the remains of an old fighter plane from World War II I think. Nothing makes a nicer shot than a naked girl clinging to old military hardware. I think the plane was Russian, they were in World War II right? It's like so not important. We were to be on our way in a couple weeks.

When David heard this he said he would fly out and meet me when I was done. There was always business he could do out there so none of his time would be lost. 

This sounded just great. I looked over at Celeste and grinned.

So here I am.

Sleeping is so nasty. I lie exposed like an offering on an altar.

I can't even masturbate. Everytime I like start, I'm like running to David, seducing or being seduced by David, being fucked endlessly by David. It's such a habit I can't break it. It makes me cold and sick so I stop.

I will just have to wait for evening.

And I like hate these dolls. They just seem to stare at me. One morning, like the fourth or fifth day I just couldn't take it. I collected them all and threw them in the closet of the small bedroom and shut the door. It must've taken me an hour to get them all. When the cleaning bitches came they started gabbling, then they like shot me with one of their fucking darts, in the leg, tied my arms behind my back and then put all the dolls back. They me left lieing there. Oh God I don't want to think of the pain I was in when they came back next morning.

--------------------------------------------------------------

The girl slams the laptop shut and stuffs it under the couch cushion. She stands shaking before the window. The afternoon storm roils about the distant buildings. She watches as it expands across the mud. Lightning flashes closer and closer. Soon the window shakes with buffeting wind and torrents of rain.

She slides the window open and steps out into the rain. The rain is warm and hard. The wind lifts her hair. She looks so nice, gleaming in the sudden flashes of light.




Waiting



Next morning she waits until the cleaning women have been through then opens the laptop.

She creates a new document in Word and begins typing.

Why am I writing this? I am going crazy with idleness. My thoughts run wild with uncertainty, impatience and fear. They are out of control. Much the worse now that I am wide awake and clear-headed. It would have been so much the better if I'd been unable sleep last night as I expected. Instead I slept almost from when the sun set to when it poured through those curtainless windows into my eyes. I am paying the price now.

Perhaps by setting my thoughts down in text, text's lines and paragraphs forcing them into some order, perhaps I will get some clarity, some insight.

What do I think happened to Zenia? I don't know.

Just thinking about her is painful. She made love to him, it makes me feel so empty. And she was to meet him here too! I cannot now pretend that he is held up by sickness, by some natural disaster, by some upheaval. It must be by plan. To what purpose?

I can't, I won't think about that now. I will explain about David and myself.

Possibly when he comes I will show him this. Possibly it will make some difference. More likely I won't. I've never thought that he cared much for what I thought.

Here goes:

--------------------------------------------------------------

He walked into the conference room where my interview was taking place. That was the first time I saw him. I was standing. Sun poured in through the long windows behind me. I wore a blue cotton sleeveless dress and I worried that the sun would shadow my form through the dress and I blushed. I have only an indistinct memory of him coming and shaking my hand. His was warm and firm, mine I thought must be sweaty. We sat across from each other. There was only the two of us at a table I suddenly thought must be large enough for fifty. 

It was his hand I fell for. I watched his hand as it moved in the sun, jotting notes on a copy of my resume. My hand, the one he'd shaken, seemed on fire. I placed it on my knee under the table and it seemed to burn through the fabric of my dress. I felt my knee must be branded.

I tried to look up at his face, knowing that eye contact is crucial in an interview, but my eyes kept falling to that hand. It had no rings, I honestly could see nothing remarkable about it, I couldn't say if its fingers were short or long, I just felt such an urge to reach across and touch it. Just grabbing it for an instant would be worth my job prospects for that day!

I did manage to pull myself together and look up. His face was firm and long, his eyes gray and observing. Unlike the guy before, I never caught his eyes straying down over my chest or over my bare arms or down to what he could see of my narrowing waist. Whenever I looked up he was looking at my face. I couldn't tell if he liked what he saw. I thought he must be something over 50, 25 years my senior and I'd never wanted anything so much.

I kept shifting nervously, crossing and uncrossing my legs. I had a cup of water I kept sipping. Once I forgot what I was doing, I was looking at his hand resting on the table, and tipped the cup too soon. The sip landed on my dress over my right breast. I could see the dark wet spot out of the edge of my eyes for the rest of the interview.

Afterward I couldn't remember anything of what I said. When the interview was over and I was escorted out of their offices, I rushed into the ladies room by the elevator, ducked into a stall and cried as silently as I could. I was sure I'd looked a complete loser. I must've been OK though because I got the job.

More than anything I remember wanting to touch his hand as it wrote, as it rested on the table, as it moved in the sun when he spoke.

That night my boyfriend and I were in this restaurant. I looked across at him and I realized I was seeing him with my mother's eyes. Everything she'd said about him was so true. He was raw, greedy, pushy, thoughtless, and completely unattractive. I said out of the blue, "This isn't working for me. I'm so out of here." And that was that.

Of course my Mom would not've been particularly keen on what replaced him in my affections.

I only saw David occasionally. At the weekly staff meetings, sitting at the head of the long wood table, far from me, once or twice in the reception area when I was coming in or going out. Still, when he went on a business trip, out of the office for a week, I felt devastated and adrift. 

During those rare encounters, I often felt his eyes on me, when I glanced at him, his face was always calm and expressionless. After each meeting I spent an amazing amount time speculating on whether he actually was aware of me and what he thought of me, finally I'd just have to shake my head, throwing my hair about, push it back struggling over my neck and get back to work.

One time I entered the staff meeting, preparing for boredom and daydreaming. He glanced over at me and frowned slightly. I sat feeling just crushed. I was wearing slacks with a heavy sweater since those conference rooms were always so icy. I felt my legs under the table and thought suddenly, "Maybe he likes seeing me in dresses." The thought made me so happy of a sudden. Then I began wondering if I was making too much of his slight frown, maybe he was thinking of something else entirely. That morning my sister had called me and gone on and on about her baby's cute smile, at 1 month I guessed it was just gas. She told me I was none too popular out in the burbs and hung up.

One evening a group of us were going out for a drink. In the reception area David and another exec joined us. As we walked down the street to the bar I contrived to stay next to him. Someone holding the door for me caused David to wind up several bodies away as we filed into the noisy space. I cursed that guy for his manners. They joined a number of little round bar tables together for us. When they were ready I all but dived head first to tackle the chair next to him. He seemed oblivious.

Sitting next to him in the noise my side seemed to flame. I concentrated on each word he spoke.

My beer came, an amber ale. I saw him glance at it with a slight frown and then go back to talking to the other exec. They were talking about a presentation David was scheduled to give to a meeting of our partners. I knew about it since my job was managing the day to day boredom of the partner relationships.

A guy I kidded around with, Joe, was sitting on the other side of me. I told him I'd changed my mind and really wanted a glass of wine. I pushed my beer over in front of him. "You've got your second round already."

When the wine came I sipped at it carefully. I didn't and don't really like wine. I glanced at David but could tell nothing. I thought it was just my luck to imagine my way out of a beer.

"Imagination," he was saying to the other guy, "is the important thing. When preparing a speech or talk, getting my ideas together, organizing them into what I'm going to say, polishing the phrasing, even practicing before a mirror, the presentation is alive and exciting, it possesses me, I feel it live in my head. When I actually go to give it, it is dead, I see it land on the disagreeable people sitting in the front row and begin to decay on the spot."

All of a sudden there were at least three things I wanted to say.

I wanted to say, "Hey, that's ridiculous, you're in such a demand as a speaker at trade shows and Republican functions! Your talks must be good. I heard you speak at the company meeting and what you said about the company's purpose and role in the world had guys working hard for at least half an hour after they got back to their cubes."

I wanted to say that I'd often thought about the difference between a work of art when it's just frozen text in the pages of a book or encoding on a dvd or chemicals on a canvas and when it plays itself in your head. Is it the same when it plays in your head as when it burned in the mind of its creator?

I wanted to say that the loved one, in the mind of the lover, has a much finer and truer existence than he does in real life.

In fact of course, I said none of those things, my face flushed and I looked down at my untouched wine, my hair flowing down like a curtain.

On the long subway ride home to my apartment I thought over everything he'd said, every expression, trying to eek out any little thing that might single me out, it was hopeless. Like my sister and her baby, there was nothing really there, it was just gas. 

Also, I reminded myself for certainly the 100th time that the company handbook enumerated at least 30 different specific ways an employee could be bad and get fired. These ranged from falling asleep in one's cube, to taking new printer cartridges home, through divulging company secrets to third parties, to having affairs with fellow employees. "The only way you'll have a chance at him," I told myself, "Is to quit, then of course, you'll have no chance at all." "Good," said my Mom's voice in my head.

"It's mostly honored in the breach," I told myself, thinking of some of the goings on I knew about. "But senior execs probably have to be careful."

After maybe three months, there was a conference call with one of the partner companies. David joined to lend weight. There were the 5 of us, me, 2 technical types, a salesperson and David. The ninja weapon shaped speaker phone and our laptops cluttered the table. I managed the relationship so I ran the call. It went well I thought, I was precise, organized, and I kept thoughts of David somewhere down below my stomach, out of my mind.

I did keep glancing over at David whenever someone else was talking. I kept my legs tightly crossed under the table, containing my desire.

I had gotten over his hand, at least over his hand in particular. Everything about him pulled at me. I wore a gray skirt with a tan blouse, and a beige cardigan sweater, the conference rooms are always freezing in that building. Half of any meeting is taken up by people going "I can't believe how cold it is in here". Sometimes guys get up and monkey with the thermostats. They control nothing.

When it was over I delayed getting up, pretending to type some extra notes. The other 3 guys left, talking about baseball. I wanted him to leave as well, I didn't want to move in front of him, I couldn't stand the thought of being ignored or of being noticed either.

He stood and I stood as well, looking down at the table, watching my hands shut and pick up my laptop, they seemed to belong to someone else. He was a singularity in the room, I couldn't look where he stood, he seemed to twist the light.

"I am going to a reception at the City Museum of Modern Art after work," he said, then with only the faintest whiff of a question, "You will come with me?"

"Yes" I said, flushing and biting my lip. I couldn't believe what a dope I was. Unable to say anything more.

"There will be a cab in front at 6:30," he said.

I went back to my cube and sat stunned with happiness. I'd been going to go home at 4:30, now I just sat there. At 5, I pulled myself together, gave my hair a shake, frowned and managed to do a bit of work. At 6:15 I closed up shop, hit the ladies room and touched up what little makeup I wore. Looking in the mirror I thought I looked really good.

The cab sat by the curb waiting. I climbed in. David occupied the far side. I imagined myself tripping as I got in and sprawling onto him. There would be no pulling me away if that happened. Everything in me wanted to touch him. I sat demurely and pulled the door closed.

The cab started up, swerved then pulled up at a stoplight. I desperately searched for something to say. Something that would connect me to him. I felt half crazed with want.

He bent close to my ear. "There is something I want you to do for me," his breath brushed my hair. His hand touched my leg. All my doubts evaporated. I thought, "He wants me as I want him." 

The cab's horn blew and we lurched forward.

I could hardly speak, his hand burned, "Anything," I managed.

His fingers lifted the fabric of my skirt, "It is a little thing and will amuse me." His voice was light, like he found me amusing. What he murmured next was "Lift up your skirt and remove your underwear."

I couldn't look at his face, it was the center of that singularity. I looked at his gray suit coat, his dark striped tie, the white of his shirt. The white of his hand. I felt myself suddenly teetering on an edge, my expectations shattering in my head.

I could imagine my voice croaking "No way! Hey! I'm getting out!" I could imagine myself jumping out before the cab was even fully stopped, cutting in front of honking cars and screeching brakes.

The knowledge of what I would do to stay close to that hand, that knee, that unseeable face, dried my mouth, took my breath. 

I lifted my skirt, lifted my bottom and pulled my panties down over my thighs, knees, ankles. I bent and eased them over my pumps. My hand was trembling. I didn't dare look up. My face was so hot I wondered it didn't singe the strands of my hair where it brushed my cheek, obscuring my face from him. 

I started to hand him the panties but he just pointed to my bag.

"Above as well" he murmured. He reached out, brushed my hair and touched my shoulder, calming my trembling. Tears started in my eyes. Where his fingers touched, they left a burning memory in my skin, even beneath the sweater and blouse.

I squirmed a bit and pulled my blouse out of my skirt and reached up behind to undo the bra's strap.

The taxidriver looked in his mirror and said. "Hey! Not in my cab you don't!"

Silently David passed up twenty dollars.

"OK then, but you gotta be quick 'cause we're almost there less you want me to drive 'round a bit."

"Stop at the museum please," said David calmly.

In my flustered state I hadn't realized that I was going to be unable to get the shoulder straps down with my blouse on. My breath came short. I undid the buttons and pulled the blouse and the sweater down and off my arms. They hung in a chaos about my stomach. The bra, thank goodness, was in good shape, white, clean and simple. I pulled it off. My breasts swung free. I shivered in the air-conditioning. I hoped that he would touch them. I remembered his fingers in my hair.

"We're almost there," he said.

I started buttoning my blouse, my nipples brushing against the material. Suddenly I froze. It dawned me that I would be in a room full of people. I looked down where my breasts were half covered. They were so damn big. It was going to be so obvious. I did the last 3 buttons. The cab turned into the museum parking lot.

He was watching me with some amusement. "David, may I wear my sweater, buttoned up?" It was, I believe the first time I'd used his name. What would I have done if he said no?

"Seven and a quarter", said the cab driver.

"Sure," he said lightly, handing a ten forward and opening the door, then he added, "You're clear in my mind's eye."

I slipped out after him. Hurriedly I tucked my blouse in and smoothed my skirt, bending so the tops of my breasts were clear to him through the open collar, imagination is all very well I thought. "You're mind's eye could see what it wanted even if I wasn't naked under my skirt and blouse," I grumbled. I pulled the sweater on and as we climbed the museum steps I buttoned it to my neck, even though it had to be ninety out there.

"But it wouldn't be the same for you."

I tried to take his hand as we walked to the revolving doors, but he frowned and I let mine fall back to my side.

Some time later I stood in front of a colorful horror trying to look faintly appreciative. David stood a way off, a glass in hand, talking calmly to several men of his age. A slim young woman came up to me, blond, dressed in black slacks and a white turtleneck. "Hi," she said, offering me her hand, "I'm Celeste, David's daughter."

I blushed and stammered something.

She grinned, mistaking the reason for my awkwardness, and said "Don't worry, I've gotten used to David's girlfriends being younger than me. You're closer than some have been! It doesn't stop me from seeing quite a lot of them."

I smiled, stupidly glad to be assigned girlfriend status, and said I was glad to meet her. To say something, I asked if she had other brothers and sisters.

"A brother school. My mom's a VP at ----, she's almost as high powered as Dad."

There was a pause. She was good looking enough I thought, though her face, which was long the way David's was complete with a replica of his bony chin, would not be called pretty. I so admired her slimness.

She looked at me quietly with a half smile about her lips, the memory of my state of attire rushed back upon me. Being some distance from David, I'd forgotten it. Did she know? I blushed again and would've shifted to make it less obvious if I could've figured out what showed.

"Do you like the show?" she asked.

"Not so much," I said waving at the colorful swirl of splotches before me, "They don't look like anything. That one's complete crap."

She laughed, "I work here you know."

"Oops," I said blushing again, "Should've opted for politeness."

"That's OK. Say whatever you please. I'm in PR so I pay no attention to what anyone thinks. And since you don't like this, perhaps there's something you do like?"

I'd taken some art in school, would've taken more but it doesn't lead to work. "I like contemporary realism, like Jack Vettriano or Scott Prior or Sergey Surikov."

Celeste made a slight face but took my arm and led me through an arch. Two galleries down, deserted because the food and wine were distant, the walls were covered with paintings of real looking people and landscapes. I smiled. "I love that painting." I said, pointing to one. It was of a young woman, sitting on the porch of an old fashioned small town house, wearing a check dressing gown, a golden retriever or lab at her feet. She looked so content. I had a sudden flash that it was David looking at me sitting on that chair, that art was far away, that it was our house and he had just come out to join me in the cool of a weekend morning. I felt warm and happy.

Then I realized that the man who had the girl he was with remove her panties and bra and wander about a museum without was unlikely to be the man with that girl in that ordinary neighborhood.

I sighed. My breath seemed hard to come by. I wanted to be back near him. I felt so sad and desperate. 

"These're not really my cup of tea," said Celeste, "I don't like artists who take so much control over what I see. Come on, I have to get back."

"Are you close to your father?" I asked as we made our way back.

"A lot more now than I used to be. When I was a kid, visiting him was a real drag. All my friends and stuff were at my Mom's. Now we've gotten to be friends. How 'bout you and your Dad?"

"Not so much. He and Mom are still together. He never says anything. He's just there in the background like an ornament. I think Mom dusts him now and then."

We were back in the main gallery. Celeste put her hand on my shoulder and murmured. "Have to mix, I'm sure I'll see more of you."

I stood at David's side and took a determined couple of sips of my wine, just to look busy I guess. My shoulder next to him burned, I wished to slip my hand through his arm but didn't dare. Every now and then he'd glance at me, looking at my face as always. The other men in the group kept glancing lower and though with the sweater I looked no different I felt exposed and hot.

And I just felt so sad and forlorn. Air moved up my thighs when I shifted. My blouse rubbed against my nipples, my breasts amplifying my every movement.

What was I to him, I wondered. Before in my relationships with men sex had been there of course, but I'd always behaved as if we were both human. I dumped a guy if he didn't behave as if he felt more or less the same about me, most of the time at least, I did try to cut the poor guys some slack. When they're crazed with lust, you can't expect too much. What I valued though was the friendship, the interaction, the play of minds.




Waiting







Waiting



No. It had happened. He fingered his neck again. He couldn't have bit himself there. He also couldn't mistake the feeling of the sex. It was still there now. He might have been without sex for a while, Christian having lost his appeal, but one didn't imagine things like that. Slowly, he went into a small room off the main body of the church, and found a stub of a candle in the drawer where they had been kept. He carried it out to the altar and lit it reverently; shocked at the depth of feeling he had for what had happened. He wasn't scared by it at all. He was a little regretful, a little saddened. But not scared.

"Thank you for waiting," he whispered quietly as he lit the candle with his lighter, and maybe there was an answering breath of wind in the church suddenly, making the flame flicker briefly before it came to life, burning strong and bright in the dust and silence. He left the candle burning, and then left the church, casting a defiant glance at the woman who stared at him when he was leaving. He wouldn't be back. But a part of him would always be here. He had missed something perfect. But he had known it for a night. Maybe it was enough to live with. He should call Christian when he got back. What they had must be worth saving.

finis 



Waiting



I was so tired of waiting. Waiting for him to notice me, waiting for him to make a move, waiting and wondering if he was even interested. Oh, there'd been plenty of signs – subtle ones, like the casual brush of his hand over my shoulder, the quick full-body hugs that left me breathless and weak. But something had always kept us apart. 

First it was my boyfriend, the one I'd had for almost a year before I met TJ. Dan and I got along fine, but it was nothing like the fireworks that blew through me when Dan introduced me to his old Navy buddy. TJ took my hand, looked into my eyes and said hello – and I swear the earth fell off its axis. 

I managed to cover it well. Too well, apparently. No one except me ever knew of those long, aching nights I spent sweating my way through another fantasy of TJ's dark skin against mine. I longed to feel his weight pressing into me, feel his tongue devour my mouth, his hands roving over every inch of me. I wanted to feel him deep inside of me—ached for it in ways I had never before imagined. But while my nights were filled with visions of hot, soul-shaking sex, my days were spent with me being the good little girlfriend Dan thought he had.

Dan and TJ spent a lot of time together that fall. TJ had just moved back into the area, and Dan took the opportunity to show him around. As often as not they'd end up back at Dan's house, nursing a beer and laughing about their tours in the military. Since I was Dan's girlfriend, and knew how to grill something slightly tastier than Dan's typical charcoal briquette, I found myself spending a lot of time around a man whose slightest grin had me clenching my thighs together in reaction.

I think at some point TJ became aware of the flashflood of desire that ripped through me whenever he was around. He started making it a point to give me hugs when he came over, of opening my door and pulling out my chair – things Dan just never gave thought to. And luckily Dan never saw the subtle shift of TJ's dark hand where it slid from chair back to drift along the curve of my shoulder blade as he stepped back from holding my seat, or how when he held the door for me, he would shuffle marginally closer, so that as I walked through, I was forced to brush against him, breast to chest, thigh to thigh.

One time when he did that I looked up, my cheeks flushed in a combination of pleasure and embarrassment, and found his eyes locked onto my hardened nipples, visible even through my clothing. Well, his rapt attention did nothing to lessen my arousal, and I watched his eyes heat up as he watched my body respond to his gaze. 

I found my hand lifting toward him, and to this day still don't know what I would have done, had Dan not walked into the room right then and swirled me up in a huge bear hug. I tried not to grimace at his touch, but it was hard to want my boyfriend's hands on me when the man who shook me to the core was leaned back against the wall, watching, a slight smirk tipping the corners of his lips. 

I smoothed my sundress back down over my thighs, pushing my hair back off my face. If I wasn't careful, I was going to ruin the comfortable relationship I had with Dan over the almost violent reactions I was having to his friend's casual flirting. Straightening my shoulders and telling myself to play it cool, I headed for the kitchen to get a much-needed beer and to work on dinner, but Dan caught my hand and swung me around.

As my dress swirled dangerously high, my boyfriend asked me why I was so dressed up. With a sigh of exasperation, I reminded him that I'd had a job interview that day. Dan's sweet, boyish grin tried to make up for the fact that his memory was more like a rusty sieve than a steel trap. 

Mentally rolling my eyes, I took my sweater off, neatly folding it over the back of a kitchen chair, not wanting to risk ruining the soft wool with barbeque sauce. I thought I heard a low hiss, but when I looked around, I was alone. Shrugging my now-bare shoulders, I pulled on an apron and got to work, efficiently preparing dinner.

I was wrist deep in meat and sauce when I felt the frisson of awareness that always rippled through me whenever TJ was around. A second later I felt the heat of his body against my back as he stepped a hairs-breadth away from me, his lips grazing my ear in the slightest of touches as he whispered that he thoroughly approved of my dress, but how he'd dearly love to see me in just that apron I had slipped on, and nothing else.

My knees shook, and it wasn't until my vision grew dim that I realized I'd forgotten to breathe. With a gasping, wheezing chuckle, I tried to cover my flustered state, falling back on the easy banter we'd come to share over the past few months. But to my surprise, TJ simply grabbed my waist and pressed full-length against me, one hand sliding over my stomach and the other lifting to tuck stray strands of my hair back into my loose bun before tipping my head and nibbling his way along my neck.

Had he not been pressing me so tightly against the table, I would have slid to the floor in a boneless heap. 

Over the pounding of my blood, I heard him murmur that he'd tried to keep his hands to himself, but just had to see if I tasted as good as I looked. Turning me gently into his arms, he held me tight, both of us ignoring the sauce dripping from my hands as he nibbled his way from my ear to my lips, finally, finally claiming them with a thousand times more finesse and style than I had imagined in any of my sweaty fantasies. 

I moaned, lifted my hands to his shoulders, shifted his hips into the hollow of mine, and delighted in the explosions rocketing through my body. Tipping my head back in pleasure I took a long, deep breath...and felt his hands in my hair, loosening my bun until the soft weight of it filtered through his fingers to spill against my back. With a groan he grabbed a handful of that silken, fragrant cloud and pulled my face back up to his.

There was nothing even remotely gentle about this kiss. Powerful, possessive, potent – it sizzled through me, leaving my shaken and enflamed in its wake. I licked a questing lip over my swollen lips, slid my still-saucy hands over the front of his shirt, wrapped a knee around his hip, and leaned back over the table, pulling him with me.

I was oblivious to the rest of the world as his weight settled on me, right there on the big butcher-block table in my boyfriend's kitchen. His kisses ravaged my sensibilities, his whispers made me gasp at the images he painted so vividly, and his hands completely controlled my body. I could barely think for the sensations that were doing a good job of drowning out any voice of reason.

I was tugging TJ's shirt out of his jeans when he stopped kissing me, bracing himself on his elbows and pulling ever-so-slightly off of me. I mewled in frustration, trying to pull him back down onto me. Rubbing a gentle thumb against my cheek, he smiled sadly, shaking his head no.

"We can't," he whispered, his eyes going from hot and dark to sad, then back again.

Still thrumming with the pleasure of his touch, I merely whined in disagreement, arching my back, wrapping both legs around his waist and boldly offering what his hard length was clearly interested in having.

Again he shook his head. 

"Dan's right outside, getting the charcoal going."

"TJ...." My voice sounded raw and agonized, even to my own ears. Slowly, so slowly, I was becoming aware of where we were, what we were doing...and how wantonly I was still splayed open beneath him, my hips still rocking against him.

"We can't."

I felt humiliation steam-rollering its way over me. Not only had I offered myself to this man on my boyfriend's kitchen table, I had done it while the boyfriend in question was only a few dozen yards away, oblivious to the slut his girlfriend apparently was at heart. Even now, as tears slipped from the corners of my eyes, I couldn't keep from rubbing against TJ's body where he pressed against me.

TJ sighed deeply and stepped back. I lay on the table, dress and apron pushed up over my hips, breasts dangerously close to falling out of the strapless bodice, legs spread wide and chest heaving as I fought to regain some semblance of control. I gasped when I saw the smears of barbeque sauce staining his once-white shirt. Struggling to sit up, I tugged at my clothing, refusing to even look at TJ. A tide of crimson flushed its way over my chest and onto my cheeks, staining the pale skin a bright red.

TJ lifted a hand toward my cheek, but I shrugged it away. I knew if he touched me now, I'd fall right back onto the table and drag him down with me, giving in completely to the desire still raging through me. He sighed and looked away.

"I think I'm just going to call it a night," he said quietly. I didn't see the despair clouding his eyes as he watched me huddle on the table. I kept my head down, swiping away tears as stealthily as possible, sure he thought I was a slut now.

I heard another deep sigh, and a few minutes later the front door closed. Sliding off the table I stumbled to the bathroom, where I buried my face in a towel and let loose a torrent of tears. Quite some time later I made my apologies to Dan, who'd remained completely clueless through this whole disaster. With a weak smile I told him I wasn't feeling well, and wanted to go home. The bright, though concerned smile he sent me irritated me to no end, and when he tried to kiss me goodbye I moved away. My lips still throbbed from TJ's kisses, and the thought of Dan touching me now made my stomach lurch.

I tried, unsuccessfully, to forget about the incident in the kitchen. TJ and I had become careful to never be around Dan at the same time, which only cemented my fears that he thought I was a whore, even as I breathed easier for not having to hide my reaction to him. I found myself increasingly dissatisfied with Dan, however, and three weeks later I broke up with him, saying only that he deserved much better than I could ever give him.

I threw myself into my work, and was well on my way to becoming a respected interior designer when I ran into Dan out of the blue. It had been two years since I had seen him, and even longer since I'd seen TJ, but my heart still did a stutter-step and I had to force myself to not ask after his friend. We talked politely for a few minutes, then his order came up. Adding creamer to his coffee, he mentioned TJ's name and I felt my stomach drop.

"Um, I'm sorry, what was that?" I asked, hoping my voice showed only the casual disinterest I was struggling for.

"I said, TJ's coming back to town for a visit next week,"

"Back to town?" Confusion furrowed a line between my brows.

"Yeah, he moved a couple of years ago. Said he didn't like his new job, and lit out." Dan stirred his coffee, a small, sad smile on darkening his face. "In less than a month I lost my girlfriend, then my best friend." He shrugged a shoulder, then held his cup up in salute. "Well, I'm back to work. It was good seeing you again," he said, and slipped out the door.

I waved distractedly, my heart cramping in my chest. How many nights had I lain in my lonely bed, thinking of TJ, remembering how perfect it had felt to be in his arms, pressed against his body. Nothing and no one had compared to what I felt for him, and I had become near-reclusive, concentrating solely on my work to distract me.

I wondered if I should ask Dan for more information about TJ, then talked myself out of it. I didn't know how to find Dan now that he'd sifted back into the crowd outside, and finding TJ would be even harder. I made excuse after excuse, but my heart and body still craved the man who'd made me feel more alive in those few stolen moments than anyone else had ever done before. I resigned myself to living off of memories, added sugar to my own coffee, and headed back to work, a kaleidoscope of emotion coloring my day.

I tried to put thoughts of TJ behind me again, but it seemed like everywhere I turned, something made me think of him. The only thing that helped was working, and my boss reaped the benefits of my frenzied, fanatical concentration to detail. Customers sang my praises, and my boss threw out the idea of adding me as her partner. Life should have been good, and was actually beginning to feel good – until I picked up the mail off my desk and found a letter in Dan's handwriting.

My hands shook as I slit open the envelope, pulling out a sheet of paper, a photo falling facedown onto my blotter. The envelope rattled as I reached down, and nudged the picture over. My knees buckled and I sank down into my chair, shaking fingers covering my mouth as I stared at the image of me, Dan crowded in on one side and TJ on the other. All of us were smiling big, goofy smiles, and I was holding up the stuffed animal I'd just won at the carnival game. 

I traced a finger along the sweet curves of TJ's face, not even realizing tears trickled down my cheeks. In a daze I picked up the letter, and after several tries, managed to comprehend that TJ had again moved back to town, and was getting married. Dan was to be in the wedding party, but didn't want to go alone, so he was asking me to go as his date – in a very platonic way.

...I remember how the three of us used to joke around and have a really good time, and I miss that. My girlfriend is out of town, but she said it was okay with her if I asked you to go, just as friends. I'd appreciate not being stuck at this thing alone, and I know TJ would love to see you.

I snorted. Sure he would, I thought. I wondered if he ever gave a thought to that escapade on the kitchen table. I doubted it, since he was getting married, but the thought that he might sent a tingle through me. Shaking my head, I set the letter down and once again found myself staring at TJ's smile. I put my head down on my desk and wept for what I could never have.

I decided, after a lot of mental agony, that I would go with Dan to TJ's wedding. I couldn't pass up the opportunity to see him again, even though it would kill me to know he was getting married. I bought a new dress, a pretty swirl of jewel tones, mentally telling myself that part of its allure had not been the fact that it greatly resembled a strapless sundress. 

The day of the wedding dawned bright and clear. Dan picked me up at my apartment, and we rode to the church together, comfortable, easy talk filling the time. He escorted me in, then went off to do his duties. I was sitting alone and unprepared when TJ walked in, adjusting a cufflink. My breath whooshed out of me and my heart stopped. This man was drop-dead gorgeous at the worst of times, but in a full tux he was simply perfect. 

Dan walked in behind him, saying something, and the two men laughed. Dan motioned over my way, and TJ froze...then slowly turned around. Our eyes met, and I was right back on that kitchen table. In a daze he walked over to me. Legs trembling, I stood up and we hugged – a full body contact which left me visibly shaking. 

I felt TJ's lips brush my temple as he pulled away, and my knees crumpled. He was called away to talk with the minister, and I finally found my breath again. Dan looked at me, understanding dawning on his friendly face. Struggling not to cry, overwhelmed by emotions I could barely understand, much less control, I sat on the church bench and prayed for forgiveness, desperately aching for a man who was about to marry someone else. Dan pulled my head against his shoulder and graciously gave me time to find some composure.

The reception was hell. The only good part of it was that Dan and I talked, and I finally was able to talk to someone about my feelings for TJ. Dan was understandably miffed at first, especially about the table incident, but it had been quite a few years since then, and we'd not harbored any great love between us anyway. In fact, our break up had been friendly on both parts. Dan was more like the brother I would have loved to have rather than the ruling passion of my life, and he felt the same way about me. 

He listened as I poured out my confusion, my frustration, the fear and agony and uncertainty I felt. He held my hand across the table and reassured me that I would be okay. I thought it was strange when he reached up and gently caressed my cheek, but it wasn't until I heard a hiss of anger behind me that I realized TJ was there. I panicked quietly, wondering how much he'd overheard, mentally cursing my senses for being overridden by my problems—for the first time I hadn't sensed his presence.

Dan drew his hand away, and I caught the twinkle in his eye, realizing that he'd staged that caress for my benefit – both to reassure me, and to gauge TJ's reaction. Judging by his tight expression and glittering eyes, TJ was pretty upset.

"Dance?" he asked, all but hauling me out of my chair.

I shuddered at his touch, bolts of electricity shooting through me, warming places that had no business being warmed by a groom in his wedding tuxedo.

TJ dragged me out onto the dance floor, pulling me against him as he swung into step. The heat of his hand burned through the silk at my waist, and goosebumps rippled over my skin. I closed my eyes, inhaling his cologne. I had a bottle of it sitting on my dresser, and I used it to spray my sheets. That spicy, sexy aroma teased me now, mixing with his own unique scent, making me tremble with desire. At my first quiver, his hand tightened on my hip.

"So, you're here with Dan, huh?" TJ murmured, his lips nuzzling my ear. I trembled and swayed closer, unable to help my reaction.

"Yeah. But we're just friends," I hastened to add, not really sure why I was even bothering to tell him that.

"I know. And so does Sandra, or she never would have let Dan ask you to come with him," TJ said, referring to Dan's girlfriend.

His hand shifted ever-so-slightly, coming to rest on my lower back.

"Your wife is gorgeous," I whispered, turning to look at the radiant bride, laughing with some friends. 

I turned back to TJ, the heat in his eyes burning me before he looked away. His hand tightened, pulling me to him, and I gasped when I felt his arousal press against me.

Mesmerized, I watched as his head lower, watched his lips part as he ever so softly whispered my name. I lifted up on tiptoe, stretching against him, offering myself to him. The world stopped for just a moment, before a voice over the microphone system brought it crashing back down with the giggling invitation for all the single ladies to join in the bouquet toss.

Pulling back, I wanted to cry with frustration. I wanted, needed, to feel his lips on mine, his body on mine, his voice in my ear. But I no longer had that opportunity. He had just given himself to a bright, fun, beautiful woman until death did they part, and I was the last person who would ever ask him to break that vow.

Sensing that I was about to make a dash for the door, TJ reached down and threaded his long fingers through mine, pulling me to the queue of women squealing in delight as they waited to see who would be next to be married. He mumbled a few words in my ear, then shoved me into the crowd before stepping back. 

With only the smallest portion of my mind working, I caught the bouquet before it could smack against my face, pasting a smile on my numb lips, TJ's hurried "I love you" still ringing in my ears. Thankful there was not garter to toss and therefore no need for me to remain, I grabbed my purse, told Dan goodbye, and hurried out the door, motioning for the doorman to summon a taxi. 

Three years later, that bouquet was still the focal point of my dining room hutch. I'd had the flowers professionally dried and arranged, and would often find myself stroking a fingertip along the curve of a petal, remembering every nuance, every word, every thought and smell and sound. 




Waiting



This time I was the one who moved away, unable to stay in the same town with a man I was destined to never have...but always love. I had come to accept that what had happened on that kitchen table so many years ago would never have happened without me feeling a wealth of emotion for the man. If I had been free, I could have acted on it, but at the time I had been Dan's girl. It still galled me to have done what I did, but I couldn't get the memories of TJ out of my head, or out of my heart.

I settled in Wisconsin, and once again threw myself into work. My designs had already made a name for themselves, and the city of Madison warmly opened her doors and invited me in. In little time my business was booming, especially in the new condos that seemed to be going up all around the lakes. I kept busy, declining dates, staying home and nursing my broken heart instead. Life became a routine of work and walks on the shore, reading until wee hours of the morning, and trying not to wonder what TJ was doing now.

It came as no great surprise when, on a rare visit back home, Dan told me that TJ's wife had given birth. Dan showed me pictures, as proud as any uncle could have been. It was only my quivering lip that gave me away, and had Dan slipping the pictures quickly back into his wallet, cursing under his breath. He apologized for his thoughtlessness, but I just hugged him. I wouldn't begrudge TJ any happiness just because I couldn't have him. I was glad he'd had a baby, and the little girl looked absolutely adorable. My favorite picture was one showing the pride and love on his face as he held his little girl. I asked Dan for a copy of it, and he gave me the picture instead, watching as I traced that face with a trembling fingertip.

Taking a deep breath, I looked up, smiling crookedly at Dan's concern. When he left, I broke down and sobbed into my pillow, the picture clutched in my hand.

Waiting. It seemed like all of my life I'd been waiting. I had waited to find Mr. Right, but the timing was wrong when I found him. Then I'd waited for the ache to go away, wondering if I'd ever see him again. I had waited for his kiss at his wedding, aching for it with all my heart, even as my head screamed at how wrong that was. Then, after the baby picture, I was back to waiting for the ache to go away again. And now I was waiting for him to show up, sitting on a cold wooden bench at a municipal park in the early morning chill, waiting to see why he'd called, asking if we could talk.

"You look cold." 

I heard his soft, smooth voice behind me, and went all liquid inside. I got up from the bench, but before I could turn around, he was pressed up against me, his heat a welcome relief from the wet damp chill in the air. I moaned, every sense bursting to life at the realization that he was wrapping his arms around me, touching me, holding me, caressing me.

My mind couldn't keep up, and I staggered from one sensation to the next. I felt his hand holding my wrist, the cool of his lips on my neck, the heat of his breath in my ear. I felt him tug me over to the rough wood of the concession stand wall, pressing me face-first against it, his dark, sexy body pressing into me. I felt his hands lift mine over my head before skimming down my sides, brushing the outer slopes of my breasts before curling around my hips as he ground into me, letting me feel his arousal. 

I heard noises; hot, wet, whimpering noises, and realized they were coming from me. I felt cool air against my overheated skin, and realized he'd pulled down my jeans and underwear, was spreading my legs and caressing my soft, slippery skin with his fingertips.

Through the ringing in my ears, I heard his beloved voice begging me to let go, go cum for him, to show him how much I missed his touch. My body responded, completely giving myself over to him, to his every want and need and desire, regardless of what my conscience was screeching. 

I trembled and gushed, coating him with my pleasure, barely given time to take a breath before I felt his hardness nudging against me, his moans telling me how he enjoyed my wet heat as it surrounded him, welcomed him, enveloped him. His lips caressed my ear, my cheek, nipped at the soft curls of hair at my temple while his throbbing length plundered me, making me peak again and again and again, until my voice crying his name echoed around us, and his passion spilled into me, overflowing onto the ground.

With a soft kiss he turned me in his arms, holding me gently, stroking my back. He fixed our clothing, then led me back to the bench and sat with me, soothing me as I cried. Torn between passion, love, and dismay at having caused him to break his vows, I sobbed against his chest, until finally I lay spent against him, weak and hiccupping. 

"TJ," I murmured, gently stroking my fingertips against the ridges of his chest. I'd be content to stay right here forever, if I could. "Why?"

TJ sighed, a deep aching sound that made me whimper in sympathy. He tipped his head back, and I could sense him searching for words that didn't want to be found.

"I needed to," he said at last. "I needed you."

My breath whined out of me. "You could have had me any time. Why now?"

His head dropped, and he took a minute to answer. "Because I couldn't keep wondering. I couldn't keep waking up each night and reaching for you, aching for you to be there." 

I was confused. "But she's there."

TJ's bark of laughter was far from humorous. "No, she's not. She's in her bedroom, I'm in mine." He glanced over at me. "She knew going into it that she wasn't you, but she made both of us think it could work anyway. But she says she's tired of fighting it, of fighting me." He ran a hand over the smooth plane of his head. "She wants a divorce."

I reached up and softly stroked his lip where it trembled, feeling my heart break into even smaller pieces. "TJ...." I gulped, trying to work up courage. "Why did you leave that first time?"

He turned to me, eyes burning hot, frustration fiercely sculpting his expression. "You weren't mine. You were Dan's. You were off-limits, and it was all I could do not to throw you down and make you mine every time I saw you. Then, in that dress, with that apron on and your hands busy in the barbeque sauce...." His eyes closed. "There was sunlight coming in through the window, glinting off your hair. And a streak of sauce on your cheek," he remembered. "And I couldn't help it. I tried, but I just couldn't help it," he ended on an agonized whisper, throat tight.

"TJ," I whispered, tears glittering on my lashes. "Make love to me. Please."

He raised his head and looked at me, a cross between fire and frustration. "Why, so you can leave again?"

"I didn't leave," I exploded, flinging myself from the seat. "You could have had me on that table. You could have taken me right there, and I would willingly have given myself to you. Hell, I was throwing myself at you as it was" I shouted, storming back and forth under the awning. 

"And you would have ended up hating yourself, and hating me." He smiled, tiredly. "I couldn't do that."

"So you just walked out?"

"I had to leave," he sighed. "If I had stayed in that room, looking at you without being able to touch you? I'd've lost my damn mind," he growled.

"But then you did leave," I whimpered. "You moved."

"You broke up with Dan," he countered, glaring at me. "But did you ever once try to find me? No. You were free, but obviously not interested."

"Because you never let me know you wanted me," I whispered, trembling.

"Want you? Want you? How's this for wanting you?" He grabbed my hair and yanked me d own to him, his lips crushing mine. I tasted blood, but more importantly I tasted him. Hot, sexy, spicy and completely out of control. 

I shoved his shoulders back and straddled him on the bench. The sun had come up and the grass was beginning to steam as I pulled my sweatshirt off over my head and tossed it somewhere to the side. My breasts bounced under my tank top as I adjusted my thighs over his, and I heard his hiss of approval as my nipples tightened visibly under his stare. Looking into his eyes, I grasped the soft green material of my tank top in my hands and ripped it wide open, baring myself to him. 

I hadn't had time to throw on a bra before he called me, and I was very happy for that now, seeing his gaze darken as he slowly reached up to touch me. At the feel of his rough hands on my soft skin, I threw my head back, arching toward him, offering him all of me. His arms snapped around me, his face burrowing between the soft slopes of my breasts, and I trembled and came, soaking my jeans. 

Swinging me around, he laid me down on the table at his back, leaning over me and devouring my lips, nipping and sucking and tugging at them. My nails scraped down his back as my breath hitched and stuttered. When his tongue tangled with mine, I surged up, groaning his name, pressing myself unashamedly against him. 

And panicked when I felt him start to draw back. Whimpering, I struggled to keep him with me, undulating against him, crying as I felt him lift up. "No, no, no no," I whined.

"Shhh... just for a minute." His soft voice soothed my hair as he leaned back down, and I felt skin on skin along our entire lengths. I choked back a scream of pure pleasure, my teeth nipping along his neck, shoulder, jaw. 

"Please, please, please," I whimpered mindlessly, head tossing, eyes fogged with passion.

"Shhh," he whispered again, smoothing my tangled hair back from my face. 

"Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me" I chanted, writhing in need.

"No."

I screamed in frustration, trying to push him off of me now. He grabbed my hands and held them above my head.

"I won't fuck you. I want to make love this time," he murmured, watching as shock and pleasure slammed through me. 

My eyes slid shut as I moaned, softened, pulled him into me. 

"Nuh huh," he said, grasping my chin in his hand. "Look at me. Look right into my eyes. No, don't close them." He stroked my cheek, a caress so soft I could barely feel it. He slid into me then, as our eyes locked together as his body claimed mine. The sweetness of our joining was almost too much to bear. I dug my nails into his back, arching beneath him, his name a soft chant on my lips.

And every time my eyes slipped closed in pleasure, he would remind me to keep them open. Softly, slowly, gently he made love to me, sweet kisses and stirring caresses that tumbled me over the edge of reason and left me limp with pleasure, our eyes locked the entire way. 

Waiting. This had been the longest two minutes of my life. I tapped my foot against the tile floor, glaring at the clock on the wall. Tick. Tick. Tick. Ten more seconds. Five. Okay.... I stared at the stick where it lay on the rim of the sink. I watched as my numb fingers curled around it, lifting it, shifting it in the light to where I could read the little window. 

The tiled bathroom started to swirl around my head, and I braced myself on the towel rack, staring in shock at the symbol telling me I had about 9 months to find a two-bedroom apartment. A tear trickled down my cheek, and I swallowed a bubble of hysterical laughter. I wondered if I should try to find TJ, but after that one early morning rendezvous, he had disappeared again. Only this time, I knew Dan knew where he was. 

I clenched my eyes, biting my lip, letting go of the towel rack to place a gentle hand on my stomach in that age-old tradition of women who've just discovered they're carrying life. I wondered how I would make this work, how I could make this work. Then I reminded myself it was TJ's baby I was carrying...and smiled a bittersweet smile. He had enough issues in his life right now. I didn't want to be another burden to him. If his marriage was going to work out or not, I could have no part of his decision. 

Waiting. I gasped as another contraction hit me, mentally counting through the pain, forcing myself to breathe in short little gasps the way I had been taught in birthing class. Dan reached over and held my hand, rubbing the sweaty hair back from my forehead. 

"Doing good now, almost ready," chirped the annoying little nurse. I glared at her until Dan squeezed my hand in warning.

I shuddered and whimpered my way through another contraction, pain wracking my body. Dan fed me an ice chip, glancing at the clock and shaking his head when I looked at him, the question plain in my eyes. TJ wasn't coming. I turned my head, trying not to cry. I would have my baby, and that would be a part of TJ that no one else could have. When the doctor came in, I gave her a trembling smile, ready to welcome my baby into the world. 

Waiting. I looked at the clock for the tenth time in half as many minutes. Jamie gurgled in his high chair, happily mashing peas into his hair. I had given up on trying to keep him neat and tidy. TJ was going to have to meet his son as he really was, and not all clean and neat like I'd hoped for. I sighed, then smoothed a gentle hand over Jamie's head. He was the light of my life, and my reason for making it through each lonely day. 

I checked the clock again, mentally cursing myself for even caring. But I knew better. I knew that my heart, body, and soul would always be TJ's. He was the first thing I thought of in the morning as I raised my head from the cologne-scented sheets, and my last thought at night when I ached to have him hold me and talk about our respective days.

Dan had said that TJ's wife had changed her mind about the divorce. I know I should have wished them well, but a part of me was resentful. She had the man I loved, the family I craved, and the life I would have loved to live. But, I thought, leaning down to rub noses with my baby, she didn't have Jamie – and I wouldn't trade him for anything.

I heard a car door slam, and went to the window. I watched TJ walk up the sidewalk, a world of emotions pouring through me. Taking a deep, bracing breath, I answered the door, praying I would get through the night without crying.

As soon as he saw me, TJ dropped his bag and wrapped me up in his arms, burying his face in my neck. My pulse rate spun out of control, and I clenched my fists against the ache to dig into his back and hold him close. I felt him shudder, and what little ice I'd been able to build around my heart melted.

"Oh God," he whispered against my collarbone, arms tight around my waist.

"TJ?" I said softly, concerned.

He raised his head. "It's over," he said, eyes searching mine.

I was confused. "What's over?" I put both hands on his arms and pushed, but he refused to let me go.

"My divorce." He took a deep breath. "She found out about..." he waved a hand, searching for the words, finally just saying, "us." 

"About us?" I felt like I would shatter to a million pieces in the gentlest wind, caught between pleasure and pain.

TJ took my hand, following the gurgles to where Jamie was still mashing peas. As he looked at his son, his eyes went soft and hazy, the smile I loved tilting the corners of his mouth. This was the look I'd cherished in that picture so long ago, and now that look was directed at our baby. 

TJ dropped to his knees, hands braced on the high chair tray. "Hiya, Jamie," he whispered, looking in awe at the baby we'd created. 

I was startled. "How did you know his name?"

TJ kept talking and cooing to Jamie, eliciting smiles and giggles and even an offer of peas. Glancing at me now and then, TJ explained how Dan had kept him informed, after storming to his house the night Jamie was born. Finding that TJ had already applied for a divorce had helped cool Dan's anger, but when TJ's wife had discovered the affair and resulting pregnancy, she had suddenly changed her tune, deciding to keep in jealousy what she refused to give up for love.

TJ had talked to his lawyer, who advised him against moving too fast, especially now that she could use the affair and baby as leverage. So while I had waited and wondered and made a life for my little family, TJ had been going through his own hell, trying to carefully extricate himself from a marriage that he admitted was doomed from the start. 

All the letters and cards and pictures I'd been sending to Dan had been shared with TJ. "I've followed every step of his life," he said, glancing up at me. Seeing the tears in my eyes, he stood, and pulled me into his arms. 

I sighed in pure pleasure, knowing this is where I was meant to be. I felt TJ's fingers lace through mine, and something cold slip over my knuckle. As I looked at him in shock, he lifted our hands and kissed the ring he'd just put there.

"I know it's not much, but if you'll have me, I swear I'll never hurt you again," he vowed, looking deep into my eyes.

Tears of pure joy trickled down my face as I placed hand on each of his dark cheeks, reading the seriousness in his eyes, feeling it in the air. Leaning up, I kissed him again and again, unable to get enough of him.

"I'll take that as a yes?" The hope in his voice made me realize how scared he was that I'd say no.

"YES!" I shouted, laughing as he wrapped me in his arms and spun me around. 

When Jamie started whimpering in confusion, TJ plucked him out of the chair and held him between us, all of us together as a family for the first time. 

My wait was over.



Waiting



Dressed in a black PVC trench coat with the outfit her Master had her wear every Thursday on underneath, Dinah knocked twice (the number of times her Master had told her to) on the door to his tenth-storey flat. She waited the long minutes until He answered the door. He always made her wait... the thoughts of what might happen tonight swimming through her mind. He didn't smile as he opened the door and ushered her in. 

"Today, slave, we will be in the dungeon," He told her. The dungeon was a large room Master had had specially adapted. 

Dinah walked down the hallway and entered the dungeon. She stood in the middle of the room, her posture perfect, hands by her side, chin up. Master made her wait again. She wondered what He was doing. Was He having a drink? Smoking a cigarette? Or just standing outside the door, enjoying making her wait? Knowing that the expectation was making her crazy. That her nipples were hard, her stomach tight with longing, her cunt tingling and wet.

Master entered.

"Take off the coat, slave," He ordered.

Dinah slowly undid the belt and the three buttons up the front. She slid it off, folded it and placed it on the floor in front of her. Master appraised Dinah. She knew that Thursday's outfit was one of his favourites. It was a black and white PVC maid's uniform. It had a headband, wrist cuffs with d-rings, a short black skirt that barely covered her bottom, a short white apron, a black under-bust corset which pushed her large, firm breasts upwards, white over-the-knee boots and a collar with a chain attached to it.

"Tell me slave, what do you want?"

"I want to make you happy, Master," Dinah replied, as she did every day when He asked her, "I want you to use my body however you please."

"What are you, slave?"

"I am your slut, Master."

"Good." 

He slowly approached her. 

"Raise your arms above your head, slave."

Master attached the D-rings on her wrists to a chain above her head. He went to the side of the room and turned a lever pulling the chain upwards, lifting Dinah onto her toes. He went to a table and picked up two nipple clamps. 

Dinah eyed them apprehensively. Her nipples were so sensitive the pain of the clamps was almost too much for her to bear. She wanted to beg him not to use them, but she knew it would make no difference, and He might punish her for the insolence.

He smiled slightly as He ran his finger down her right breast and round her nipple. He opened the clamp and let it close on her. Dinah bit back a scream; she knew if she cried out she would be punished.

"Slave, remember any sound, any at all, and I will add an extra ten strokes to your chastisement."

Dinah nodded, she understood, but the pain in her right nipple was excruciating and what was worse, she feel herself getting more and more turned on. Meanwhile, her Master was lightly licking her left nipple. It was so light she could barely feel it, but already her nipple was hard. Master looked up, his sharp eyes mocking her, knowing what even his slightest ministrations did to her. He opened the clamp and placed it over her nipple, but waited before releasing it. He looked deep into Dinah's eyes; every moment she expected him to let it go, flinching in expectation. 

She felt it close, sharp, agonising pain running through her body. Dinah cried out.

Master stepped back, studying Dinah as she strained on her tip toes. He walked over to a cabinet and opened it.

"Which do you want, slave? The paddle, the cane, the whip? Remember, you get twenty, an extra ten for crying out. Ten for crying out. And ten for being weak... for wanting me to hurt you, to abuse you. Answer me, slave. Now."

"The cane, Master."

He picked up a long, thin cane and circled around behind Dinah. She could feel his cold hand slowly lift up her short PVC skirt, baring her small, round butt, still baring the faint traces of past punishments. Dinah waited for the first stroke to mark her.

Whoosh.

The cane ripped through the air, hitting both of her cheeks. Dinah jumped slightly, swaying unsteadily on the painfully high-heels. Again and again, the cane reddened her ass, until tears ran down her face. 

"Eighteen... nineteen."

Her Master paused, letting the air make her burning ass sting.

"Twenty."

The last stroke, raining down on the many strokes before, made her scream in pain. Her body slumped against the bonds holding her up.

Master released her hands and pulled her over to a specially adapted table. He bent her over it, cuffing her hands above her and her ankles to the legs of the table, leaving her cunt and ass totally exposed and vulnerable.

"There we go, slave," he said, slapping her sore butt and making her jump, "Beg me, slave. Tell me what you want."

"Please, Master," Dinah moaned, "Fuck me. Fuck me in the cunt, in the ass... however you want, Master. I need to feel you inside me, Master. Make me yours."

She begged, whilst writhing on the table trying to relieve the pain in her breasts, as the clamps twisted beneath her.

Master walked to the table, picked something up and approached her. Dinah heard the vibrator begin to buzz as He turned it on. Her cunt tingled as she anticipated it being pushed into to her, stretching her and filling her. Master slowly ran the tip of the vibrator up Dinah thighs and over the very edge of her bare cunt lips making her shiver. She could feel the tension building inside her. He gently pushed the first couple of inches into her. Dinah recognised that he was using the largest vibrator, which was 10inches long and had a 5inch girth. Dinah longed for more, she tried to push back onto the thick vibrator, but Master sensed this and pulled it out.

"Slave," his voice almost made her cum right then, "I choose how much pleasure, or pain, you receive."

He suddenly pushed the vibrator up her ass. It was in several inches before she instinctively clenched her sphincter.

"Master," Dinah cried, "Please!"

He ignored her and continued to twist the vibrator into her. Dinah's ass was on fire as the huge toy stretched her. She shook, tears running down her face as her Master impaled her upon the full 10inches. He stood back, watching her ass spasm for a moment, and then walked round to her head. He wrapped her hair around his fist and pulled her head upwards.

"Open."

Dinah opened her mouth as Master forced his large dick down her throat, revelling in the feeling of her gagging. Dinah was being forcefully fucked in the mouth, Master was bobbing her head back and forth, and the vibrator in her ass was stretching her wide and the light vibrations teasing her, but she longed for him to fuck her cunt. Her longing was so fierce she could barely stand it. She wanted to cry out, to beg him to take her, but could only make a muffled groaning sound.

Dinah could feel her Master getting close to cumming. She could taste his precum on her tongue. Now she longed for him to release his load into her mouth. She tried to take all of him down her throat, her tongue working his hot dick. When he pulled out, Dinah moaned.

"Not yet, slave," Master said as he reached round and pulled the vibrator out of her ass, before shoving it back in, again and again. Dinah gasped and arched her back as he reamed her. Master then forcefully pushed the vibrator into her dripping cunt.

"Ah!" Dinah cried out, "Yes! Please, Master, please, fuck me..."

He slowly fucked her with it for several minutes, just slow enough so that Dinah couldn't cum.

"Please, Master, please... take me..."

He discarded the vibrator and held her hips, his cold fingers digging into her hot, red cheeks, making her wince. Master slowly ran the tip of his cock over her sensitive cunt.

"Beg me, slave," He whispered, making her stomach tense with lust.

"Please, Master... I am yours... take me."

He slammed his dick into her.

"Master!" she cried. He fucked her hard and she could feel her self getting closer to the edge.

"Please, may I cum, Master? I can't stand it..."

She begged as he pushed his wide dick into her tight cunt. He continued to fuck her, making her wait. She whimpered quietly as he ran his hands up her back and round, under her body, finding the nipple clamps and pulling on them. Dinah cried out in pain.

"Cum for me, slave," Master whispered, as he impaled her again and tugged on the clamps.

Dinah moaned in ecstasy and torment as she came, her Master continuing to fuck her relentlessly. After a few minutes, he pulled out of her and she felt his hot cum splash over her ass and back. She laid on the table, exhausted, the pain in her tits and ass vying for her attention. Master un-cuffed her wrists and ankles.

"Clean yourself up, slave. Once you have, tidy the dungeon and leave. I'll see you tomorrow at 10pm. Don't be late. You know what'll happen if you are." 



Waiting



Your knock at the door is tentative and light. Not sure of what to expect of this meeting, or if you are doing the right thing. But that decision was made for you, you must do as you are ordered. The door swings open revealing a darkened room. With the dim light you can barely make out a silhouette as I offer you my hand. Reaching to take it, you feel the cold metal of the handcuffs close securely around your wrist. In a heartbeat I secure both of your wrists behind your back. Ordinarily this would be an unsettling situation to suddenly find yourself in, but you can't help but feel a little excited.

The blindfold comes next completely eliminating what little light the room had. As you feel your heartbeat rise I guide you further into the room. Soft music drifts about the room and as you feel warm on your sensitive skin. The soft gentle kisses trailing from your ear down your neck send shivers of anticipation through your body.

You've dressed as required, a slut, a wanton tart. The vision of you pleases me very much! I begin to slowly undo the buttons of your black lacy blouse, my fingers shaking from both nervousness and excitement. Pulling it off your shoulders and letting it fall around your cuffed wrists adds to the sensation of being retrained as my hands caress your breasts.

Allowing my lips and tongue to roam over your breasts, I quickly undo your very leather skirt letting it fall to the floor. You are indeed a lovely site standing in the middle of the room, blindfolded, your blouse and bra draped across the handcuffs wearing nothing but a pair of silky stockings.

As I lay you back across the bed you feel the warm wet kisses begin to trail up from you feet moving to the inside of you thigh. You feel my warm breath as I slowly move upward. My hand trails across your stomach and down between your parted legs as my tongue lightly dances over the tightening muscles of your inner thigh. My fingers feel the dampness that is rapidly turning the material to a darker red as I pull the material aside. You feel for the first time my tongue slides upward, parting you, causing a slight shudder to course through your body.

Over the soft music playing in the background a continuous buzz invades your pleasure. Almost undetectable through the music it grows loader as feel the cool touch and rippling vibration touch you, sending the same vibration through your body. My tongue continues to create waves of pleasure as the vibrator slips between your parted lips and you feel the vibration invade your body. As the vibrator reaches its full depth I quickly secure it by pulling a silk scarf around it and tying it to your waits. I quickly secure your feet to the bottom of the bed and run a rope from the chain of the handcuffs to the headboard. Tigh enough to cause slight pain and to keep you from raising up.

Leaning forward I whisper in your ear. "There are some errands I need to run. I'll be back with a nice surprise."

As I close the door I hear a slight moan. I slip quietly back to the chair in the corner of the room. I think both of us will have enough to keep busy for a little while.

I quietly enjoy your motions and low moans for a while, before I move to stand over the bed watching as the muscles in your thighs flex and strain against the bonds that restrict your movements. The muffled hum of the vibrator drones on broken up only by your soft moans. As you pull against the ropes continuously tightening your stomach muscles I cannot determine if you are trying to retreat from the pleasure between our legs or drive yourself toward it. A shinny layer of wetness now coats your soft flesh from head to toe.

A testament to the time and energy you have spent in darkness. Your breathing alternates from deep and slow to shallow and fast as the rapid energy waves that emanate from your core spread through out your body.

As I watch your body move I can't help but grow harder than I have ever been in anticipation. I quickly remove my clothes freeing myself from what had become an uncomfortable prison.

As I slide my fingers gently up the sides of your legs I feel a quiver of anticipation roll through you. I unfasten the bonds that have held your legs in place. You immediately breathe a sigh of relief as you bend your knees and pull your legs up toward your breast.

Sliding the wet red material off your legs I reach and slip the vibrator gently out making sure to brush your most sensitive area sending a tremble through your stomach. It is slick and wet with your juices as a trail it up your stomach and tease each nipple with the buzzing probe. Following closely behind with my tongue I suck hard on each nipple enjoying the slight trace of wetness left behind. Your back arches.

Moving quickly I roll you over and bring you up on your knees positioning myself directly behind you. I run my stiffness the full length of you lips and ever so slowly enter you from behind. I stop after only about 2 inches. The incredible sensation is mind blowing as it is now my turn to feel the shudder of anticipation run through my spine. I remove myself completely from you only to re-enter to the same depth over and over again. Holding firmly to your hips as you try to force more and more in. "Fuck Me! Fuck Me! Please!!!"

It is the only thing I needed to hear as I plunge my full length deep inside you and begin a slow rhythmic stroke as you rock back to meet it. Reaching underneath you I apply the tip of the vibrator to you feeling your body tense immediately. You let out a series of half moans half cries and your muscles tense gripping and holding me in the very depth of your being.

We both explode in unison. And for a moment we are the only two people who exist. 



Waiting



She moved to her knees, facing down, shoulders back, those ample tits pushed forwards, tracing against the thin material of that button up shirt. Consuming thing, that, His shirt, His scent upon it. Position taken, facing the doorway, as she would tilt her head, the stolen glance from those eyes to the clock. Only a few minutes, and how she knew they would tick on for an eternity. Hips pushed back, that pert little ass of hers rested to her knees, as she would shift, hands smoothing the line of cotton to her tanned flesh, making sure it was perfectly aligned. Last instant touches, fingers rising to brush to collar locked into place after that shower. Those rituals Theirs, this time, Theirs. 

Thighs pushed apart, the line of cunt, sweet little pussy all shaved. Another ritual, one she adored, the knowledge that He was aware of the time she did it, everyday devoted to tending to what was His, that sex of hers. Shaving off that hair, knowing well the very lines of what was His, every dirty little petal, every needy slick inch of the constricting tunnel. Claimed, property, not alone, because He owned her. It was those smaller things that bound, not just love or devotion, not just the words, but the actions of it. Each assuming roles, that to them expressed some heightened thing. Something bigger them themselves. 

The clock chimed out those seconds, and as her eyes closed she could smell Him, feel His hands upon her. Anticipation itself making that little slit dampen, making those velvet petals, so dusky grow dewy with want. Shifted hips, that grinding a light thing to her own calves, as she would draw in breath. Strange how erotic it was, to kneel and wait. Every breath consuming His scent, forcing those sweeter memories of every other Time. Reminding her how He tasted on her lips, how his cock bruised that delicate mouth of hers. How His hand cracked against the line of her ass, as He gripped her hair, and commanded her to cum. 

Ten more minutes, her eyes opened, already those little gasps, as her body trembled, that faint thing the way her hands clenched to the edge of the shirt, pulled it down, the motion of it making those hard buds press against the cotton, so dark those blooms were on those heavy globes of pillowy flesh, every breath making them rise and fall, dance. A curve of lips upwards, tongue ran out, picturing His lips there, knowing soon He would come and she could crawl to Him, beg for His fingers, for His taste, beg for what she needed. Wanted. Craved. Surprised to hear a sound, more surprised to realize it was her own whimper. 

Eyes found themselves closed again, and she would lower her head. Trying not to think about that ache inside her, that molten steamed core, that burned at the thought of His voice. Not to think about how her throat tensed wanting His load, needing to feel His jism running down her throat, like liquid pleasure, like praise that needed no words, for her attentions done correctly. Teeth raked over those lips, light things those pants, for air, as if He were already there, stroking before her face. For an instant, if she thought hard enough, she could feel it, the thick plumed head of His cock rolled over her cheek. For an instant, if she closed those eyes, and held that whorish breath in, she could hear Him, asking her "Does Master's little whore need something?" as He rolled the thick throbbing meat over the side of her silken cheek, and made her beg for it in words. 

Heart raced within that chest of hers, those breasts dancing as she would try to hold that position. Eyes, almost nervous now would look to the clock. Five minutes. A deep breath taken in and held, the shifting of her hips, gods she could feel it, that slick heat running over bare mons, drizzling down thighs, so fucking wet. Clenching gash, tucked away there, already smoldering for it. For Him. Swallow, remember to swallow, throat aching needing His flesh inside, needing His touch, His kiss, His words in her ear. Be a good girl, be a good girl. Her own thoughts lashing out at her. Funny thing that, the way the mere thought sent her into this frenzy, the more she tried not to think about it, the more apparent it became. 

Whatever you do, don't think about him bending you over His knee. Don't think about the way His hands move between your thighs, and spread your pussy, the way He commands you to watch His finger pushing in and out of you. Whatever you do, don't think about the sensation of His hand on your ass, cracking those earth shattering slaps to it, making your hips ram forwards, as the vibrator inside your dripping pussy slurps in contrast to that stinging fire on your backside. Whatever you do, don't think about how He might decide tonight is time for restraint, how He will show you the very lines and limits of your control, and show you in every lesson why He is Master, and you are girl. Don't. Think. About. Those. Things. It will only torment you more. So of course, those were the exact thoughts she had. 

Almost time, her breath taken in, heart wrenching now, to stay still, to not move, to remain there, upon knees, all dripping and wanton. Near panic in the back of eyes, as lips tightened together, trying to focus on the door itself, will Him to come within. Beg Him to hurry, to stride inside in that manner. Come home. Teeth raked bottom lip, tugged it, pulled on it, sucked it. Hungry, wanting, needing, those emotions so rampant. Almost fear, at how much inside she ached for Him, how much inside that need drove her body to writhe in quiet dance there upon her knees. Don't think about how when He says "Good little cunt" it is the very sound of love. Don't think about how when He strokes her hair and lets her lap off His cock cleaning their taste from it, how that itself, makes some haven of serenity for her. 

Thighs spread wider, that scent of pussy wafting upwards, mixing with the smell of Him upon that shirt. Nipples perked, tits jiggling with the slight grind of hips, seen the very glimmering wetness on her inner thighs. Flushed face, that erotic tension coloring her eyes, making them seem more luminous, the biting of that lower lip swelling it, making it look fuck sore. Greedy. Eyes widen from the lust that coursed through veins, and heart pounding with that love. And then, as the seconds had become hours, she heard it. The key in the lock, the sound of His footsteps, and then His voice. 

"Such a good little whore, already ready for her Master. " 

And she knew, she was saved.



Waiting



I noticed immediately when she walked in the door. There was a look on her face which I recognized, not from any profound insight on my part but simply because it is so easy to spot. She was waiting for someone, probably just a few minutes late from the manner in which she checked her watch, but he wasn't here. Yes, I could tell it was a man she was waiting for -- that was obvious as well, but I suspect knowing that was based more on my experience with similar situations.

I admit to smiling at her as she scanned the faces in the coffee shop. She hesitated for a moment before ruling me out as the person she was meeting, telling me that it was more than likely a blind meeting. Again, having been there before. But in truth it was because she was so cute that I smiled her way, obviously dressed to be admired.

I went back to my book, though not quite as immersed as I stopped now and then to watch her while she waited. I had all the time in the world, enjoying a free evening while travelling for a course. It's nice to get out of the hotel room but still find a pleasant place to relax. All the more interesting when there's a beautiful woman to watch. Time passes much more quickly for me, though I do stop to observe each nervous gesture -- checking her watch and cell phone, searching gazes out the window. She does take in the fact that I'm watching her, though it doesn't seem to surprise or offend.

I can discern the moment when she resigns herself to the fact that he isn't going to show up. I shake my head at the foolishness of this phantom cad, while considering whether it might be possible to make amends for his sin.

As she makes one final circle of the coffee shop looking out the windows I put down my book and smile at her again, "He's not showing up, is he?"

A blush and a small laugh precede her reply, "I suppose being stood up for a blind date does look terribly obvious, doesn't it?"

"Don't worry - only to those who have been there."

"You look terribly relaxed -- I could take some lessons from you. I'm feeling like a nervous wreck at this point in the evening."

"Lessons are freely given -- it's putting it into practice that always costs. My names Rob by the way -- why don't you sit down and join me for a few minutes?"

"Mine's Kate. A friendly conversation just might help to cut the tension I've caused myself."

We each tell a few stories about our past experiences meeting people in person for the first time after extended conversations online. We open up more than we would with friends, but leave unspoken the intentions of some of these encounters.

"So tell, me. Seeing as I've been stood up for my date tonight, would you like to take me out?"

"The thought has most definitely crossed my mind," I answer with a shy smile. "But I'm terribly worried that would be leading you on. I'm married and wouldn't want to give you the wrong impression."

A somewhat deflated look crosses her face.

"I think it would be much less misleading if I were to seduce you instead. Considering how late it's getting, that's a more practical idea as well." 

She blushes and makes a slight pretence at being offended by the directness of my suggestion. She composes herself and answers, " That would depend entirely on whether you're a good kisser. If there's anything I can't stand it's a lover who cant kiss. And there's only one proper way to decide that."

"Kiss me..."

She immediately interrupts, "Don't say it!"

"Sorry it's hard to resist a bad line sometimes. But harder to resist a kiss."

She cuts short the possibility of any further bad lines with soft kiss on my lips, lingering long enough to savour the taste of each others lips.

"So far so good," she whispers before kissing me again. I place my hand behind her neck and kiss her more firmly, pressing my lips against hers, teasing just a little with my tongue.

"I'm staying very close by," I whisper after catching my breath. Without a word she picks up her purse and we walk out together.

Half-way down the block towards the hotel her phone begins to ring in her jacket pocket. "Well it's a little late for him to call now, don't you think? Should I just turn my phone off?"

"No -- just set it on vibrate -- then it won't bother you."

We make our way back to the hotel and up to my room. As soon as I close the door she whispers again in my ear, "You were saying something about seduction?"

I lead her over to a small couch by the window, take off her jacket and wrap her in my arms in a tight embrace. We tumble onto the couch while we're still kissing, this time our tongues entangling vigorously as our hands begin to explore each others bodies.

As we kiss and fondle we hear the distinctive buzzing of the phone from her jacket pocket. "I think I should turn that off after all," she insists, reaching into her jacket for the phone.

"Oh no," I say, taking the phone from her. "I'd much prefer it turned on."

With the phone incessantly bussing in my hand I touch it against her knee. I slowly trace a line up her leg, lifting her skirt. Just as I reach the edge of her panties the buzzing stops.

After a short moment's silence she bursts out laughing, "That's terribly, terribly naughty! I love it!"

Our embraces quickly become more passionate as we quickly forget the novelty use for her phone. Deep kisses, hands fondling her breasts, clothing beginning to fall away. Her phone buzzes again just as my pants fall to the floor. I grab it more quickly this time, wrapping my arms around her tightly. I lift her skirt and start rubbing the phone in small circles across the front of her panties. I hold her tightly with my other arm as she squirms and giggles until the buzzing finally stops.

She turns around in my arms, pushing me back on the couch and smothering me in kisses. Sitting up, she strips off the last of her clothes, teasing my hard cock against her soft hair as she smiles down at me. With one quick motion she lifts herself up and takes me inside her, dropping back down, squeezing me tightly as she slowly grinds her hips against mine. My hands find her breasts as she closes her eyes in pleasure, moaning softly as her excitement grows.

As she tires on top I carefully flip her over and climb on top, lifting her legs up over my shoulders. With my hands on her breasts I build my own rhythm, gradually intensifying as our excitement grows. When the phone buzzes again she lunges for it, "Oh no you don't!"

But I have a longer reach from my position and grab it first. As I'm fucking her I reach down between her legs, sliding the buzzing phone over her clit. I thrust harder and faster, excited by the teasing. She screams out as she comes, pounding the couch with her fists, squeezing me tight until the buzzing stops and she catches her breath. Reaching down, she snatches the phone from my hand and tosses it out of reach.

With a quiet laugh she says, "I'm glad he can't hear any of that while the phone's ringing."

I turn her over, kneeling behind her and slip back inside while she grabs the far arm of the couch. As my hips slap against her behind I reach down to fondle her breasts. It doesn't take long in this position before she screams out again, mine joining her as I collapse in my spent lust.

"Can I call you?" I whisper after catching my breath.

"Only if you've got my phone in your hand," she says, smiling and kissing me once more. 



Waiting



"You're late."

"Yeah, I know. Traffic was ridiculous and –"

"I don't want to hear your excuses. Take off your clothes and kneel facing the wall."

A wave of excited fear washes over me as I start stripping off my clothes. I can feel my chest growing flush and my breathing getting heavier. I carefully fold my clothes, place them on the bottom stair and lower myself into position- back arched, on my knees, hands clasped firmly at the small of my back.

I wait...and my mind begins to race.

I really should have left my apartment earlier. It's not like I've never seen that episode of Family Guy before. He'll know that I lied about the traffic. When has traffic ever been bad between my place and His? I wonder what it's going to be this time. The anticipation clouds my head with pleasurable fear.

What time is it now? Judging by the ache in my knees, I've been kneeling here for at least thirty minutes. I hear him moving around upstairs and hope that he will soon rescue me from being alone with my thoughts. The longer I hold my subservient position, the more my desire increases to submit to His every want – the more I want to feel his strong cock deep inside of me.

How long must I stay here? The muscles in my back are tightening and my knees feel as though they are going to give out under the weight of my body. All of this causing my pussy to ache with need and crave attention.

Finally, his voice.

"Crawl to me."

Pangs of excitement fill my body. I yearn for His touch. I climb the stairs on my hands and knees anxious to get to the top so I can feel His hands on me. Obediently, and eagerly, I kneel before Him.

He points to the bedroom and I continue to crawl. He walks directly behind me and I wait for the feeling of his open palm against my ass. Nothing. He tells me to go to the corner of the room and once again face the wall. Any moment now I would feel his hand slapping my thighs or his teeth sinking into the back of my neck. My pussy is soaking wet and needing fulfillment. My heart racing...body shaking...waiting...waiting...

The light flashes out surrounding me with darkness. "This is it," I think to myself, smiling secretly in anticipation.

"Never keep me waiting," He says, then walks out of the room, closing the door behind him.

When He shuts the door, I assume He is coming back for me. Assumption, however, is yet another mistake to add to my list of faults that evening. He doesn't come back. I rest as much as possible. Sleeping is difficult. My dreams are vivid. My pussy is soaked. Each time my body wakes from strain, my pussy grows wetter. 

The scariest part is that I am not bound. If I want to, I can move at any moment – get up to pee, scratch the nagging itch on my nose, walk out to Him and ask why He has left me there. Normally, He would have tied me so tightly that I would have no choice but to comply. This freedom terrifies me because it gives me options. 

He did this on purpose. I was being a brat. I was waiting to slip into a scene and did not expect that it would begin as soon as I arrived at His house...late. I understand why He is doing this now. I can't slip back and forth from my submissive role. He is my Master. I never should have been late or even questioned that it would be ok that I was late. I feel ashamed of my actions and attempt to make it up to Him by resisting my incredible urge to move. Finally, my thoughts consume me and sleep overtakes my weary mind and body.

I am jolted awake by the smell of cigarette smoke and leather. "Good morning, slave," He whispers breathily into my ear. He imprisons my neck with the thick, black collar and pulls me up by one of the rings to face Him. This is the closest He has come to touching me since I arrived the night before...late. He takes a long drag off of His cigarette as He stares at me. A faint light through the window tells me that it is just barely morning. I am relieved to see Him, but nervous that my punishment is not over.

"Good morning, Master," I say, and my eyes move to the floor. I am afraid to look at Him because I don't want Him to see the need in my eyes. He already knows; He doesn't need to see it. He can smell it. He wraps the matching leather cuffs around my wrists and secures them together with the metal clip. He slips the silky rope through the clip, ties a quick loop, and gently pulls my arms up over my head, attaching the rope to a small hook in the ceiling. He steps behind me and covers my eyes with a tight blindfold. My body is completely vulnerable. He covers kisses with hot breaths all the way down my body making my nipples stand at erect attention. He takes my right nipple and grinds it between His teeth and pulls. Without missing a beat, He pinches a clamp over it and I gasp. He repeats the torture with my left nipple. I realize that I am rubbing my thighs together and grinding my clit against them. He realizes it too. A sharp slap to both thighs tells me to separate my legs immediately. A third slap sears my clit and I shriek in pain. A wet finger probes my pussy hole. He pulls it out and pinches my clit.

"You're very wet, slave," He pinches harder. My breathing speeds up and I am already close to climaxing. "You are crazy if you think I am trying to get you to come right now. Oh, believe me, I will get you close. But there will be no coming for you today. I think waiting to come will be a proper punishment. What do you think, slave? Do you like waiting for me to allow you an orgasm? Isn't waiting fun?"

My God I will never be late again. This is almost worse than getting spanked. I stay silent and pray this will end soon. He rubs his giant, erect cock against my thigh before he slaps my clit repeatedly with the tip. He moves behind me and sinks his teeth into the back of my neck. He pulls on the chain of the nipple clamps while using his other hand to rub long circles around my clit. I feel his cock poking at my ass. I feel as though I'm going to faint. He begins to kiss down the entire length of my back, still rubbing my clit, and pinching it every so often. He is now underneath me, in between my legs and He inserts his tongue into my sopping hole. He licks up my slit and covers His mouth onto my most sensitive area. Gently, probing my pussy with two fingers and running his tongue softly over my clit, I go insane. I can feel my climax approaching quickly, both inside and out. 

"Master! I'm gonna come!"

Just as I begin to peak, He pulls everything away from me – including the nipple clamps. My body aches and writhes against my binds. The slightest touch will send me over the edge into blissful ecstasy.

"Aww....do you not like waiting? Too bad. But- just because you will not come today doesn't mean that I won't." He takes the rope off of the hook and pulls my arms over his body and pushes me to a kneeling position. My arms are secured around Him and my face is at perfect sucking position. He shoves his cock in my mouth and fucks my face hard. He is so deep into my throat that His balls slap my chin. I love sucking His cock and it brings me close to orgasm yet again. Just as I think I will have to pull my mouth away to warn Him of my impending climax, He pulls away and explodes His cum all over my chest. Three hot spurts dripping over my breasts and spilling over my stinging nipples. I look up at Him with confused eyes and He glares down at me. Between his teeth and breathing heavily, He says, "After all this, you didn't think that I would allow you the pleasure of my cum down your throat, did you? That's another thing that you will have to wait for."



Waiting



This is only my second story. I would sincerely appreciate any constructive comments on how I can make my writing better. Thanks to all!

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It's amazing what happens when you're gone. She goes about her day laughing and pretending that everything is fine, but when she gets home the real feelings come out. She's lonely and wants the warmth that only you can provide. She wants to feel her explosion build up only to be snatched away by you at the brink. She wants to beg you to give her that release that she is so desperately longing for. And she wants to feel everything tense up when you allow it. But since you're not here, she has to go about her business. She has to provide herself that release that she wants so badly. She wants to cum.

Thinking about you her fingers slowly began to work her way to her nipples. She's surprised that they're already points and very sensitive. She licks her finger and slowly begins to make little circles. She shivers at the touch and her back instinctively arches to get more contact, but she stops. She rubs her breasts and begins to think about the last time you were there. How you took control and made her beg for release. As she's thinking her hands drift down as if they have a mind of their own. She comes in contact with her clit and starts massaging it. Her hips begin to move on their own as she thinks about your tongue replacing her fingers. Slowly, she stops flicking her clit and begins to move her finger up and down her slit. She can feel her own juices seeping out from between her lips. She dips her finger in ever so gently and brings it up to her mouth to taste herself. She tastes herself every time you kiss her after you finish swirling your tongue around her clit and using it to go deep inside of her and make her scream your name, but tasting it firsthand is a whole different experience. 

Her fingers go back down as if they have a mind of their own and begin to make circles around her clit again, but that's not enough. She slowly inserts one finger and then another and starts to pump them in and out. She finds her g-spot and touches it lightly and explodes! All of a sudden she is shaking and moaning and her fingers are going in and out at an extreme pace so that she does not have to stop the pleasure that she is experiencing. But it does begin to subside; so she brings her fingers out and cleans them off. It is here that she wonders if all women taste as good as she does right now, but thoughts of you quickly push all others to the side. She has enjoyed that orgasm and desperately craves another, but knows her fingers aren't going to do the trick. In order to be fully satisfied she knows she'll need something more. 

So she rolls over and gets the seven inch going away present you got for her, even though you were the one going away. Slowly she licks up and down the shaft to get it ready even though she knows from her previous orgasm that it won't be necessary. She enjoys the feeling of having it in her mouth. She thinks of having you in her mouth and how she loves to hear you groan as she takes you all the way in her mouth. As she continues she brings the dildo down to her lips and begins to tease herself like you would do if you were there. Running it up and down her slit, stopping every once in a while to tease her clit has her so close to the edge. She wonders if she should and decides that she will. She brings the toy back to her clit and twists sharply to the left and all of a sudden the vibrations are running through her and she feels the orgasm racing through her entire body. 

This time she can't help, but scream your name. Oh, every muscle in her body is tense and all she can do is grind her hips a little harder. As the waves of pleasure begin to subside she forcefully shoves it in and the vibrations and feeling of such a forceful entry take her right back over the edge. She pumps the toy in and out and feels herself shaking uncontrollably. As her pleasure begins to decrease she pulls the toy out and sucks it clean. As she is on her way to sleep she smiles and hopes the camera caught every bit of that so she can share it when you get home.



Waiting



It had been four years since she had died, and Chris was finally feeling he could let go of his wife. They had met seven years earlier, and her slow decline had been difficult for both of them. The first year was the hardest, then Chris managed to burrow into his work teaching biology at the local college, taking on new research, and slowly putting together a new life for himself. The students responded well, and his colleagues were supportive. But he lacked any real companion, and was hesitant about how to make that happen in a way that felt safe and relaxing. That is until Livina came into his life.

They had met at a social event organized by the department chair. She had been a lab technician in the department several years earlier, and left to get her PhD. She now worked at a start-up in a nearby city, but spent weekends in town visiting her aging parents, and connecting with friends from her time at the college. She happened to be in town for the gathering at the chair's ostentatious house outside of town, and they hit it off while disagreeing about their tastes for eggnog. He was a believer and didn't mind the raw egg flavor and rum; she grimaced, and explained, while sipping on a glass of red wine, how only the uncivilized would eat raw eggs mixed with alcohol. The disagreement must have had some flirtation in it, because she accepted dinner the next night when he choked out an invitation. Dinner went well, and they exchanged emails and dates for several weeks.

It became apparent to both of them that they were now more than dating. She would drive south from the city to see him, or he would commute up to the city after his last class Friday morning. They talked on the phone during the week, they exchanged little gifts. He had met her parents at their cozy cottage and talked house plants and collies (they had two) with her father for hours while she and her mother ran errands or cooked dinner for all of them. He was surprised how comfortable he felt, and he rarely reflected on the hard times from a few years before. He was settling into a happy rhythm with Livina, and she seemed comfortable with him as well.

Sex had been something new for him -- he hadn't been with a woman in several years. Livina was very attractive to him, with dark eyes, mid-length dark hair tied tight back into a pony tail. She was shorter than he, and lithe, with a quickness about her that surprised him. She used to train seriously on her mountain bike, but she had redirected her intensity recently on yoga and running, which she alternated most days of the week. She had been receptive in bed, letting him take the lead and set the patterns. But they were new enough at this together that they seemed to learn something new each time they were together.

Chris got the phone call at about 3 pm on Friday, as she was driving up. She asked him if he was up for a little adventure. He wasn't sure what she meant exactly, but guessed something about a bike ride before the spring sun set or else a weekend away together.

"Sure, I love the idea of an adventure. What should I pack?" he asked.

She told him to sit tight, and just follow his instructions -- it would be another 40 minutes before she got there. So he agreed, they hung up, and he lifted his shoulders in a shrug, not knowing what to make of it. He took a quick shower, ate some leftover pasta he had cooked the night before, and was dozing in the easy chair when the phone rang again. It was Livina.

"Hi Chris. Don't say anything, just listen. I have put a small bag on your porch and am parked a block away. Take the bag, read the instructions inside." The phone went dead.

Very strange thought Chris. What the hell, he asked himself. He slowly got up from the chair, turned on the light, walked across the room to the hall, down the hall to the front door. Opening the door, he wasn't sure what to expect. On the front step was a small Disney Mickey Mouse bag, with a small tab of tape holding the top shut. He remembered that she had been to Disney with her parents and her brother's family the year before. Very strange he told himself again. He looked up the street, then down. Nothing. No sign of Livina's Honda. Nobody out on the street.

He grabbed the bag, closed the door behind him, and padded into the kitchen. One side of the bag was noticeably heavy, so it felt lop-sided in his hand. He pondered what was inside as he set he bag on the counter and stared at it. What was Livina up to he wondered?

He opened the bag with a sharp knife. Inside was an envelope that said "INSTRUCTIONS" on it. Next to that was a bottle of wine, uncorked. And next to that a smaller black plastic bag.

He laid these items on the counter, turned on brighter lighting, and red the wine label. It was something he had tried once when his parents returned from Italy, and he remembered that it was very tasty. And expensive. Livina tended to be humble about her gifts, so this was a bit unusual.

Leaving the black plastic bag aside, he opened the envelope. He assumed that she was going to the store for dinner or something, but why all the secrecy? Why the instructions? Why the fine wine? Why not stop in and say hello to him before going out to get them food? He didn't understand. He pulled a folded up printed letter from the envelope, unfolded it and read:

"I am asking you to follow my exact instructions. You have to trust me. If you prefer not to trust me with this, I completely understand. Just put the bag on the porch, I will see it, and we can pretend none of this happened. If the bag is not back on the porch in 10 minutes, I will presume you have decided not to accept my instructions. Here they are:

1. Open the wine to let it breath; place it beside your bed with two glasses.

2. Get the candles in the black bag, and light them, placing one on each side of your bed.

3. Close the blinds in your bedroom, and turn the heat to 77 degrees.

4. Undress yourself, and lay across the bed sideways, without covers.

5. Let your head rest on the edge of the bed, just over the edge, facing outward.

6. Let your legs rest on the bed, with your knees bent over the other side of the bed.

7. Place the blindfold over your eyes (no peeking!) and wait.

8. When you hear someone in the room, follow the instructions exactly. Do not argue, do not move unless you are told to move. Stay completely still, and do NOTHING.

9. Enjoy yourself!"

Blindfold! What the hell. Those were the instructions. Chris's heart was racing, and he could feel sweat break out on his palms. This didn't sound like Livina, not the Livina he knew. And he wasn't sure what it all meant. It felt new to him, and the anxiety was mixed with intense desire and sexual urgency all of a sudden. He contained himself and quickly opened the black bag. Inside were two long-burning candles, and a thin but light-proof blindfold, like nothing he had seen before. The part of about "hearing someone in the room" made him question what was going on -- did she mean she would be in the room, or someone else? He made his decision: trust her, and go for it.

He put the empty bag on the porch, with a coffee mug inside so it wouldn't blow away. He closed the door, opened the wine, and carried it with the glasses and candles and blindfold upstairs. Turning up the heat, he slowly undressed, looked at himself in the mirror, and smiled. He felt free and open, but also nervous and tense. A strange combination of feelings he thought to himself. He noticed his erection -- he couldn't help it he figured. Something was going on and it was something sexual -- otherwise why the bedroom, why be naked? He lit the candles, turned down the light, closed the blinds, and lay down on the bed, trying to relax.

The bed made him uncomfortable, and it seemed like forever when he finally heard the front door open downstairs. He couldn't make out the footsteps really. The door closed. The bathroom door opened, closed. He heard the fan run briefly, the water run. He palms were really cold and sweaty at this point, even though the room was warming up. His nipples had hardened in the air, and he fought to lay still, blind to what was going on. He wanted to call down to her, but he kept his tongue.

The bathroom door opened, and he heard footsteps down the hall to the stairway. Then the ominous sound: a heavy bang on the stair treads with each step up! Each time she stepped up, she dropped something heavy on the tread and it reverberated through the small house. A heavy THUD sound. It was a little frightening, and clearly announced her slow arrival. Worse than the noise of it was the speed of it: agonizingly slow. Every ten seconds or so, he heard the step then the thud. And as she very slowly made her way up the stairs, he heard the noise more clearly -- the intensity of it. He shivered, and rubbed the flat palm of his hands across his belly and the bed. At this point, he erection was completely gone, and he was more focused on the sound and the intensity of the experience than anything else.

He tried to count the steps, but lost track. THUD, THUD, slower and slower she came up. By the last step it was 20 seconds between steps, and he was really anxious at that point. Between that step and the next, he listened intensely. He heard breathing. He could hear the sound of air rushing into lungs -- he could "hear" her body just fifteen feet away. But blindfolded he could see nothing. Suddenly he became aware of her physical presence, and blood rushed to his cock, swelling it. He could feel his face flush and his mind started swirling. He heard no more steps and he guessed she was standing in the doorway, watching him lying there, watching his erection form, and his hands agitate at his sides.

Then she stepped into the room. He realized that he had lost track of his concern that it was someone else -- he KNEW it was Livina. At least he was pretty sure. And he was pretty sure she was alone, at least from the breathing and stepping he heard. She made one slow step after another across to the center of the single large bedroom in his house. With each step the THUD came. It must have been a broom handle he pondered. Or a boot on one foot. Something heavy and loud but muffled and deep. Again, as his mind wandered, his erection faded slightly. But he was so excited at that point that some of his cum had surfaced, and he could feel its cool touch on his belly. He moaned slightly, softly.

She reached the bedside. And he heard the wine being poured into a glass. Slowly. It was a luscious sound, like a river, like a waterfall, like birds flying in migration, like the grass blowing in a field in the summer. He lost himself in the waves of wine and it went on and on in his mind, for much longer than the five seconds she probably spent pouring. He saw wine pouring, then silk, then the stream flowing. He felt like he time traveled briefly. Then all went silent again. He could feel his eyes bug out slightly at the silence, under the slight pressure of the blindfold, urgently trying to sense something, to see, to understand what was happening. But all he got was darkness, silence.

Suddenly, his nose picked up her scent. It washed over him in a wave, like the wine sound, and his nostrils flared to breath in more of it. He had noticed it before, but not very consciously. It was the smell of fresh showered Livina, but also of tension or anxiety, and of her sex somehow. Mixed together, he pulled the scent into his lungs and watched his mind construct the "feeling" of her scent. The woman of it. The female intensity of it. The desire mixed with mischief, the feminine mixed with strength. And then he again heard her breath. She sucked in a large lungful of air, and exhaled, forcefully enough that he felt it just billow out over his face and across his chest. She clearly didn't exhale with the intention to "blow" on him, but he could feel it gently nonetheless. His chest hairs stood up, his nipples tightened, and he could feel the slow warm wave pass across him, barely.

Automatically, instinctively, his mouth opened. He was getting a little bit of a head rush with his head tipped backwards over the side of the bed. He had propped a pillow under his neck to make himself more comfortable. But his mouth opened and his tongue darted out instinctively. He could feel himself salivate slightly, in some strange anticipatory way. With his mouth open, his tongue resting on his lower lip, he breathed and waited. Nothing happened for a minute. Just pulsing in his ears, breathing, and darkness.

Then the drop of wine fell to his lips. It surprised him, and deflected on one lip, splashing into his mouth. It came with speed and she must have dropped it from at least 18 inches. And again the wave of energy came across his body. He tasted the wine, barely, a single drip only in his mouth. His tongue darted out for more; he held his tongue outward, and moaned slightly. The next drop wasn't a drop of wine at all. It was her hardened nipple grazing his tongue. He mind spun as his tongue transmitted the feeling of her hard nipple to his brain, and down to his cock and his toes. Livina had small, tight breasts, something he had never experienced before, and the nipples were taught and became very hard at times. The nipple grazed back the other direction, and his tongue darted out to chase it, his head turning with it lifting to get more. He wanted the nipple in his mouth and his head instinctively lifted to reach for it.

At that instant, he felt the sharp pain on his cheek. She slapped him, hard enough it shook him from his reverie, but not hard enough cause a welt or any lasting pain. She clearly did not approve of his searching tongue moving towards her. He suddenly understood the entire picture: she was in COMPLETE control, and he was not to move whatsoever. He nodded briefly, in submission, and opened his lips again, with his tongue outward, longingly. The pain was intense but brief, and he felt tears in his eyes from it momentarily.

The nipple stopped for longer this time, and it was covered in several drops of wine which he sucked off and enjoyed. His tongue moved across her nipple several times and his teeth even tightened down on her once before she pulled away. He dared not lift his head to follow this time, and he could feel the burn in his left cheek where she had slapped him. He smiled slightly, and coughed in nervous anxiety.

He knew her clit was near when he could feel the longest of her hairs on his chin, and his nose took in her incredible scent. He waited in anticipation, and felt his tongue meet her clit. She finally let out an almost silent moan as she pressed up to his lips, standing above him, letting him comfort her with his tongue. He started slowly, then sped up slightly. Her hands reached down to each side of his skull, and held his head in place, and she slowly fucked his mouth, moving her hips, pulling his tongue into her, pressing her clit on his lower lip and teeth. Another moan came from her lips, and she pressed harder.

One hand on his right ear, tugging at it, while she fucked him, the other on the bed post (he could feel the bed rocking and her gaining leverage with the post), she moaned again, and he felt her clit tighten into a small stone. Holding his head deadly still, she fucked her clit slowly up over his lower teeth and lip, then back down across the teeth again, then back up. Infinitely slowly. He let his tongue sit at her entrance and press inward when she rocked downward on his lips.

"I am fucking you and I am going to fuck you harder still. Don't fucking move Chris, and press your tongue into me harder!", she yelled. The first thing she had said since they had been on the phone an hour earlier. Her clit was harder yet, and he felt the first wave of an orgasm tense onto his tongue as she lifted up higher and pressed very hard down on his mouth. He worried momentarily about breathing, feeling slightly suffocated, but realized much of that was the blindfold not being able to see anything, and he went with it. She tightened in her first contraction.

At that moment, her left hand let go of the bed post, and she hammered it down on his chest as she fucked his mouth harder yet. Not faster -- harder. Pressing down hard. Her fist came down on his chest with each contraction. It didn't hurt him, but it sure surprised him, and with each hammering his cock bounced upward to full attention, pushing more lubricant to its tip. Each time her hand came down on his chest, her pussy tightened in contraction, and her clit popped up over his lower lip onto his chin and back again. Her right hand was shifting his head in an almost robotic way as she came, pulling and tugging his ear. Her scent washed down over his lips and cheeks, and the wetness was intense as she came in his mouth. She rocked upward and downward fifteen or twenty times, slowly, forcefully, pushing every bit of her orgasm outward.

Her hands finally stopped moving, and he remained perfectly still as she slowly extracted herself from his mouth. Her head fell to his chest, and he felt her exhale heavily, panting, letting herself drool on his chest, and laughing slightly. He wanted to reach up an hug her, but remained in this awkward but loving reverse hug position, his face to her belly, her face to his chest.

After several minutes, she rose. He was alone in the dark and silent again. He felt cool again, even though the room was warmer than before. He felt the tension again, wondering what would happen next. And he was awash in desire, more than he had ever felt before he believed. He waited.

The liquid on his cock was not wine, he was sure. It was softer. Saliva perhaps. But it was warm as well, and his cock responded with an upward pulse from his belly where it lay, filled, pressured, tense, and pulsing. The bed lurched as she jumped up onto it. And the sides of her legs felt like heaven alongside his as she straddled him. She fucked him slowly, pushing him inside by slowly shifting downwards in tiny motions, lining him up, and letting him fill her up. She stayed that way for several minutes and he pulsed inside her, urgent for the friction.

Up on her hands, she started long, slow motions on him. Pressing downward, he could feel her strength and the weight of her hips on his thin hipbones. Almost hurting from the pressure, he was being fucked and he loved it. His tongue lashed out, and, forgetting the rules, he lifted himself on his elbows and moved his tongue towards where he imagined her nipples would be -- desperate to find the hardness again. That was it for her. The gentle fucking ended as she snorted out loud, pressed him back to the bed hard, and holding his chin with both her hands and all her strength fucked him harder.

"Hold still my man. Let me do this. Don't fight back and don't try to take control of this. This is ALL about letting g my man. Let go of yourself," she growled in a low, intense unforgiving but intensely loving, erotic tone.

He let go. What could he do really? He was enjoying it immensely, but he just got excited and then he forgot the rules. Her hands on his chin and neck felt good. She could not hurt him in reality he figured, and she was really fucking him hard at this point. She ground downward, pushing this head from side to side with each stroke.

"I wanted you so badly Chris. And our sex so far has been fantastic, don't get me wrong. But I needed to fuck you badly, and I need you to just give in to me sometimes Chris. Does that make sense? Don't fucking answer me, just digest that," she said, again in that low, menacing, erotic voice that he had to admit he hadn't heard from her before. He nodded, not saying a word.

She rocked downward, in a shuttering motion, and he felt her nipples scrape along his chest as she mounted him further.

"I am going to come on your cock now, hard, and I want you to come into me too. That is a command, do you hear me? Don't answer. Just come", she said.




Waiting



She let go of his neck and bit his left nipple hard, then his right. Then their lips met, for the first time in the entire experience, and she held his lower lip between her teeth as she came tightly on his cock, tugging it, and twisting on it. Just as she lost control, his hips pounded up under her and he fucked upward hard, pumping faster, and felt his cum beginning to circulate deep inside himself. He felt the pressure build, he felt the semen swirling, and he pushed upward to plant himself inside her.

She felt the first spurt and tensing of his cock as he came, and pulled the blindfold off his head in a quick swoop. They locked eyes and came together, smiling and fucking together in unison, moaning. His cock pulsing inside her, she slowed her motions and pulled at the cock with her newly tightened core. The waves subsided slowly, and she relaxed.

She put her weight onto him, and turned her head into his cheek.

"Oh my, that was a bit rough there Chris," she said, inspecting his cheek. "Sorry about that, but I had to keep you in line at that moment," she said, chuckling.

They laughed about it together, and chatted about their evening plans and their weekend together. . They fell asleep in each other's arms. Chris never forgot that evening with Livina, even though she continued to surprise him for a long time to come. 



Waiting



"All right," she replied, her hands trembling, "I'll see you soon." 

Samantha hung up the phone, and ran her tongue across the top of her mouth, deep in thought. It had been a week and a half since she had seen her secret lover. Circumstances beyond their control made it difficult, she told herself, as she dashed around her small apartment, cleaning this and washing that. His place was in the city, and made for an exciting night out if they dared, but there was always the fear that the subtleties of their relationship would be noticed by those that should not see such things. 

They couldn't help but play with one another when they went out, him first slipping his hand up her thigh, pushing her modest skirt higher and higher, until her panties (or sometimes, lack thereof) were exposed under the table or the darkness of a show.

He would tease her, mercilessly. Casually wetting his finger with his tongue, he would circle her clit until she nearly cried out for more. This is usually when he would slow, look around to make sure the rest of the public was too far away to see, and whisper in her ear the most wicked and deprived things she had ever heard as he sped up for a finale. All the while, she would be forced to keep a straight face, keep from crying out as she so desperately would like to.

Whispering was frowned upon by The Powers That Be, the philosophy being that there should be no secrets between any two people. Anything one person had to say should be said before everyone else, and before The One. 

The things he told her, she could not nor would not share with others. They were hers, and hers alone to keep for moments like these, as she savored his mind, wondering where these thoughts of his came from. They were like fuel on kindling, and it was not long before she was adding her own, turning his head to whisper in his ear. She was shy at first, really just able to moan incoherently at first while she touched him, but it soon changed. She still remembered the first words she had spoken to him in this way.

"Sean," she had said, her voice rasping, her stomach knotted in equal parts terror and exhilaration, "I want to fuck another girl."

She could feel the effect this had on him as she reached downward, and for the first time outside of an apartment she brought him to orgasm. She could remember it clearly; it was a movie theater of the older variety, using a large screen in the front rather than being surrounded on all sides by images. 

She could remember the object he smuggled over, once, wondering what all the fuss was about as he turned off the lights and closed the shades. There, on the old television handed down to her by her parents, she watched in awe as sex came to life on the screen. This was the muse for her first fantasy that she revealed to him, the second scene of two women laying across one another so powerful she soaked through her underwear, instantly. She wondered, often, what it would be like to watch Sean's antique video in one of the newer theaters, and shuddered with pleasure every time.

Finished cleaning, Samantha stripped off her clothes and started the shower, letting the warm water cascade down the subtle curves of her body. Her hand stopped as she caressed her breast, pinching the nipple ever so slightly, hardening it. She would need to do this again later, which excited her.

Her shoulder-length auburn hair was next, as the liquid formed droplets on her skin. She remembered the time that he took her there, in the shower, from behind. And then she remembered the time she took him, reaching around his body to play with his engorged cock, making him moan with orgasm as she pressed up against him from behind.

Showered and dried, Samantha stood naked in her bedroom, moving through her outfits. As always, there was nothing available beyond the modest and the drab, but she always tried to do her best. This time, however, she decided the best outfit was nothing at all, save for one set of items.

She opened up her jewelry box, and removed a false bottom in the lowest drawer. Taking the items carefully in her hand, she smiled as she pinched her nipples, making them hard. Sean, a jeweler by trade, had made them for her, though she had no idea how he had gotten away with it.

The clamps fit her nipples perfectly, feeling snug without biting too harshly. Set into the bottom of each, a single diamond glittered against each breast as she finished. Her body was aching with desire, her senses nearly overwhelmed by the pressure on her sensitive nipples pulsing through her. It was as though Sean's mouth were on her, his teeth clamped down ever so lightly.

Samantha looked at the clock. She was early; he would not be here for some time. Reaching down, she touched herself with fascination, noting her pussy already soaked with anticipation. She shook her head, clearing her thoughts, though her hand lingered. 

Waves of pleasure began to move through her body at the slightest touch of her fingers. Removing them quickly, she lay down on the bed, breathing heavily. Taking a deep breath, Samantha closed her eyes. She couldn't wait; she had to explore her fantasies. And with that, she drifted away.

*****

The first thing that Samantha could feel, in her mind, was the lurching of the ground beneath her. Her second thought was of the smell. Seawater, and lots of it. She looked around, the bedroom dissolving into the wooden planks of a ship. She tried to move, and could not. Looking down with confusion, she noticed her hands tied behind her back, against one of the masts. She was wearing a white gown, though she knew not where it had come from. Her hair was longer, more natural.

At least, she realized where she was. Her mind had chosen a new thought, a desire of her own making, not suggested nor inspired by Sean's wicked whispers. As such, he was nowhere to be found, though there were others. Her desire mixed with healthy smatterings of fear.

She'd first heard of pirates as a small girl, and been captivated by the way these anti-heroes were worshiped in lore and the silver screen of old. She'd never thought, until now, that she would be here, surrounded by a dozen or more of them, their leader advancing on her.

"Well, seems we caught ourselves a good one this time," he growled, bringing a knife near her face where she could see it very clearly. "I believe we can have some fun with this one."

Despite herself, Samantha looked him up and down. Large and muscular, like the others, he stood out further by his demeanor, a sly smile across his lips as he looked back toward the rest of the men. He was tanned as well, no doubt from working in the hot sun that she could now feel beating down upon her as he came closer, stopping inches from her face.

She squirmed against her bindings, looking away, which made him unhappy. Grabbing her face in his hand, he forced her to look at him as his knife-hand caressed the weapon teasingly over her side.

"Now, you listen here," he said to her, almost whispering. As he spoke, his knife began to cut through her gown, the material falling easily to the deck. "You are mine today. Fighting will make it worse. Besides, you might even enjoy it..."

The worst of it was that he was right. Samantha's cheeks reddened, noting her nakedness and the sets of male eyes upon her, she was infuriated, and terrified. It made her wet.

Still, she struggled against the bonds, saying nothing as the leader ran his hands up and down her body, leaving small trails of grime from his work on the rigging. Her hearth pounded in her hands as she half-listened to the men in front of her, speaking.

"Hey Booth," one of them shouted to the leader, "Hows about a turn for the rest of us?" With that, a shout came from the rest of the men, though Booth ignored them.

"When I'm good and ready," he mumbled, her breast in his mouth, his teeth biting down on her nipple. His hands found her wetness, and it was all over. His knowing smile betrayed his knowledge of her hidden arousal, though she still struggled and cursed him.

His mouth moved downward until he was on his knees, and the bristle of his unshaved face against her skin made her try to turn away until his tongue found her clit. Samantha's eyes went wide, and her head flung back. She let out a single, guttural moan too primal to be anything other than pleasure.

Again, his tongue flicked across her most sensitive area, and again a similar response. The men were becoming more and more boisterous, making dirty comments among them about how she would look after they were done with her. It should have sickened her. Instead, she moaned again.

Booth stood, grinning at his handiwork as she looked down, the pleasure replaced with embarrassment once more. His knife appeared again as he pressed himself against her. Through his clothes, she could clearly feel his arousal pressing against her crotch. In an instant, her bonds were cut, and she nearly fell against him had he not steadied her. 

Holding her against him, he reached downward, taking her body in his hands and playing with her clit, causing her to bend slightly at her knees. 

"Which one," he said into her ear, his tone ironic. "Do you want first?"

She looked up. A dozen men stood, now naked, touching themselves lightly as they watched her every move. Confusion was replaced by realization, and then fear.

"I-" she began, and then stuttered. "I can't do this."

Booth lifted his knife for the last time. "Madam," he said, his tone sarcastically respectful, "you don't have a choice."

Something came over her then, though she had no idea how or why. She looked among the men before her, and her eyes stopped at one of them. He was younger, but handsome, not quite as sunburned as the others, and by the look of him, he was new at this. She pointed.

"Him."

The crowd erupted as the young man moved forward tentatively, clearly almost as fearful as she was. Rather than wait for him, Samantha walked forward, though her wobbly legs gave out after just a few steps. She crawled to him and then stopped on her knees, looking up at his hardness.

Without a word, she took him in her mouth. He gasped as her lips enveloped his cock, already the salty taste of pre-cum dripping down her throat. Her own moans mingled with his, and she grabbed the base of his cock, moving herself over him in deep, slow rhythms. 

He began to push back, and it took everything she had not to gag on his cock as it pushed deeper into her throat. She realized, vaguely, that the cheers and insults had died down, and the sound of her moans was loudest on the deck. A pair of hands grabbed her ass, and soon she could feel the rough lips of a man against her wetness, eliciting even more feverish blowjob for the man in front of her.

The tongue behind was teasing her pussy, getting her going and then backing off. Meanwhile, other cocks were moving in front of her, and she was obliged to take another in her mouth, servicing the young man and another as a finger pushed into her pussy.

Samantha's body was on fire, quivering with lust as she tasted more pre-cum. It wouldn't be long now, she knew, and even as the thought crossed her mind the young man in front of her began to spasm, his cum shooting down her throat as the tongue behind her resumed its attack on her clit.

Two more cocks were in front of her in a flash, and she alternated between sucking one and jerking off the other. She yelped in surprise when she felt the finger from her pussy pressing against her ass, and looked back to see Booth, a smug grin on his face, wet his finger once more and press it further in this time. In the same instant, he renewed his attack on her clit, and pleasure regained the upper hand as she allowed herself to be violated in every way.

Another man came in her mouth, and she swallowed it eagerly, only to be replaced with another. Samantha was just reflecting on her depravity when someone shouted from behind her. She turned to see Booth, who had temporarily stopped playing with her, gesturing toward a man lying down on the deck a few feet away.

Samantha needed no more encouragement. She got up, walking slowly to the man, and fell to her knees over him, impaling herself on his cock. Her wetness lubricated him instantly, and she arched her back in pleasure as she moaned against him. She rode him like that as other cocks appeared in front of her once more, and she took turns with them, enjoying the different shapes and feels, the taste of their pre-cum, and the spurting of their semen down her throat.

A hand pushed down on her back, and she complied, her lips locking with those of the man in front of her. He was slightly older, but had a somehow gentlemanly manner to his face, which she enjoyed as their tongues intertwined. Something pressed against her ass, though this time she was not surprised. She allowed Booth to slowly push himself inside, filling her with two cocks at once. Lips still locked with the man she was riding, Samantha could feel her entire body fill with pleasure as the two men pushed into her simultaneously, finding a steady rhythm that made her entire body shake.

"Cum for me," she whispered, breaking her kiss with the man in front of her. "Please," she begged. They complied, erupting inside her together, each man filling her with his cum until she felt as though it might very well overwhelm her. 

She paused to breathe, and as she did her vision became blurred. The rocking of the ship seemed to cease, and all faded to darkness.

**********

The steady rhythm of the ship seemed to be mimicked with a new sensation. Music was playing around her, loud. It was dark, and her body felt constricted, difficult to breathe. 

Samantha rubbed her eyes, and was amazed. She had read histories of these places. Sin was everywhere here in an industrial nightclub, created out of the remains of an old warehouse. 

Her mind had taken her somewhere else, and she knew this place. Instantly, she looked around. The dance floor was dark; it was difficult to make out the figures. The bar was crowded...and there he was. Sean was on the next floor, looking down at her through a glass window decorated with bright neon lights. This was her fantasy, but he was her muse, and so he would be the voyeur in this scene.

Samantha looked down at herself. Her fingernails were painted black, her hair dyed to match. Her breathing was constricted because she wore a dark leather corset, which pressed her substantial breasts upwards and nearly revealed her areolas for all to see. Her nipples pressed against the material, feeling almost as though someone were biting them lightly.

She was dancing to the rhythm of the music, or at least she had been before she stopped to examine herself. Neon lights were everywhere, cutting through the darkness along with the smoke and the warmth of humanity around her. 

To her left, a couple grinded against one another in such a sinful way Samantha did a double-take, trying to imagine watching this in the world she knew. Instead she continued her circle of the area, stopping upon a figure several feet away.

The other woman was blond, and wore a white corset to match. Over the top of it was a thin lace gown, cut open at certain points to reveal more of her. A voice was singing along with the electronic beat, but Samantha paid it no mind until a single sentence cut through her daze.

"I want to fuck another girl," said a seductive, feminine voice over the speakers. And then it was gone, and the beat of electronic music continued.

Smiling and noting her already aching pussy, Samantha took the hint. She walked over to the other woman, admiring her blond hair and feline body, and pushed their lips together, kissing her forcefully.

The blond did not hesitate nor falter as she kissed Samantha back, their bodies pressing against one another so fiercely that Samantha could sense the blond's heavy breathing, and could feel their breasts pressing against one another. 

Their hands were all over one another and Samantha took in the other woman's body, enjoying every piece of it even as she ripped the silk gown clear. If the blond was fazed, she didn't show it other than to press her own hands against Samantha's breasts, feeling her body as they embraced tightly, grinding against one another to the rhythm of the music.

And then the electronic beat settled to a low drawl and the feminine voice spoke once more:

"I want to fuck another girl," it said, and laughed seductively over the speakers as the dance music once again took over.

Samantha's body was shaking against the leather that constricted her as she tasted the blond once more. Quickly, without thought, she pushed her hand under the blond's small white skirt. There were no panties, just wetness. Samantha's finger found her new lover's clit, and she began to circle it with her finger as the continued to move with the music. If others noticed, they said nothing, only watched the display of primal need as Samantha took control of the other woman's orgasm, bringing her nearly there and then down again, timing perfectly with the tone of the music to which they fucked.

At long last, the finale. The music came to a crescendo, and the two women locked lips once more, their lipstick spearing all over one another as Samantha pressed her fingers into her lover, using the palm of her hand to massage the woman's clit.

Wave after wave, the blond came against her, moans echoing outward despite the decibel of the music. Samantha took just enough time to look upwards, noting Sean still standing where he had been before, a smile of satisfaction on his lips. 

The song faded, and Samantha's vision faded to black.

*********

Samantha's found herself in a familiar place, her bedroom. Candles were lit; though she wasn't sure she recalled lighting them. Something pinched her nipples, though it was ignored next to the sense of longing coming from between her legs. 

She looked down, realizing that her hand was on her crotch, and that she was naked. Slightly embarrassed, she looked toward the door, and jumped when she saw the figure there, standing silently. 

"You have no idea how sexy you look, laying there like that," Sean said to her, and then realization hit her.

This was one of the many fantasies he had whispered to her, though in retrospect she thought she had forgotten it. "I want to come over and find you masturbating," he had said. "I want to watch you pleasure yourself as you imagine the most wicked things you can." 

***********

Samantha opened her eyes. There were no candles lit, and the bedroom was the same as when she had drifted off into her fantasies. But sure enough, there was Sean, standing in the doorway just as she had pictured him.

He was naked, his hardness evident. Who knows how long he had been there, watching, listening to her moans and admiring her puckered lips as she played with herself.

Her cheeks were red with embarrassment; her entire body was flushed with desire as he approached her, his hands taking hers in them as their bodies connected. He wasted no time, pushing himself inside her as Samantha's fantasies met with reality. The feel of the pirate's cocks melted into the man taking her now, the blond's lips became his as their fantasies intertwined. He fucked her, their eyes never parting as he pushed deeper and deeper inside, her moaning becoming more and more desperate. She hadn't had the chance to cum yet, and she needed it, more than anything.

His own cock was pulsing inside her, penetrating her as he moved his lips down to her ear.

"Touch yourself," he instructed. "Cum for me, as I cum for you."

She needed no further encouragement, and allowed her hand to reach between them, circling her clit as he continued to fuck her pussy in a steady rhythm. The nipple clamps ached, but they ached of pleasure as her body quivered and contracted, closing in on her orgasm. 




Waiting



Sean was above her, kissing her neck, whispering more depravity into her ear as she came against him, his cock pushing into her, filling her with his cum in the same instant, and for half a minute their bodies spasmed together. 

They lay like that for a bit, unable to move, their bodies intertwined, until finally he spoke to her.

"God, you must have been thinking some very interesting things..."

Samantha smiled and pressed her hands against him, raising her head to his ear and whispering. "Would you like to hear them?"



Waiting



We meet up at the bar it was a usual Thursday night. We had both been drinking and had not seen each other at all today. For some reason I had been really craving sex all day and when I started drinking it only get worse. When he walked in I knew I wasn't going to last much longer all I wanted to do was feel him inside me. I walked up and grabbed his hand and headed for the dance floor. It wasn't long before i started thinking of excuses to leave. 

Without saying a word I walked into his apartment and knew that we both had the same thing on our minds. Standing in the middle of the floor we started making out. He was grabbing at my ass and sliding his hands up and down my body like he forgot what I felt like. I took a step backwards and started with the skimpy shirt I was wearing. Then I shimmied out of those jeans that hug my ass. I was standing in the middle of the living room in just my bra and lacy bright pink thong. I took of my bra as I turned to walk slowly towards his bedroom. He started pulling off his clothing and within second he was standing behind me. I could feel how hard he was when he came up behind me just as I was reaching the door. He started kissing my neck as I opened the door and flung off my thong. I turn around so that we are now facing each other. 

He picks me up and through me down on to the bed. Were we start kissing and grinding up against each other. After a bit of that i role him over and pin him down so I am on top. I slowly move one hand down to his inner leg and give his balls a quick squeeze. As I whisper in his ear, "I am going to run my tongue over every inch of your cock." I move down and start right at the base making little circles with the tip of my tongue from the bottom working my way just shy of the head. When I get to the head there is a large glinting drop of pre cum and with a flick I wipe it way. I them take it and rap my lips around the head. At firsts its just the head but with ever stoke I put more and of his pulsating cock into my mouth. I finally take the whole thing down my throat feeling him moan as I slowly pull back up till I am just flicking his head with my tongue. Knowing how close he is to cumming I give him one last suck and start kissing him again keeping him waiting just a bit longer. When he reaches down to start running his fingers between my lips. He slides his hand between my lips and its already wet and slippery just from thinking about how much I want him inside me. He starts with his finger pumping in and out of me while his thumb is rotating in circles over my swollen clit. Before long moves his thumb and starts using his tongue. Back and forth then sucking gently as my body jerks uncontrollably with a second of pleasure. 

I can't take waiting any longer I pull his head back up to mine kissing him passionately. I want you inside me. 

He is on top of me and I can feel his hard cock starting to enter my wet pussy. It starts out slowly clenching my vagina around just his head. As I get wetter and wetter he thrusts deeper inside me. Final I can feel him all the way inside me. I grab his back and hold him deep for a second before he keeps thrusting as I am rubbing my hips up and down so I can feel every inch sliding along my body. All of a sudden he grabs my body and rolls me on top of him. He gives my ass a good hard slap that echo's through the room as I start to ride him. I lean forwards so that every time I thrust him deeper into my I am rubbing my perky nipples over his face. Before long he starts grabbing at my ass and pulling on my hips. I cant take it any longer I grind my hips deep into his body and the walls of my vagina start to clench as I cum. Hearing me moan as my body squeezes his cock is to much he starts to pulsate sending warm cum deep inside me. 



Waiting



I was on a business trip in your town. We had a nice lunch together. When I left your office, I dropped my business card on your desk. It had my hotel and room number on it. It simply said -- Come at 7 o'clock, dressed for dinner and dessert. I'll leave it up to you to decide what to wear.

When I got back to the hotel, I started to get ready. I only had about 2 hours to get everything in place. I wanted it to be as good as we both imagined it would be -- so incredibly hot!

I selected my sexiest bra and panties. Navy blue lacy bra, emphasizing my breasts, tightly pushing them together and showing a lot of curves. The panties were a thong style, lacy in the front, and sheer in the back. Perfect.

In the bathroom, I soaked in a luxurious bath. Lots of scented oil, slicking my skin and making it slippery but soft. The smell of the oil made me aroused. Thoughts of you coming to my hotel made me hornier than ever. I closed my eyes and thought about you on top of me, making love and then placing your cock in my mouth afterward. I thought of how you tasted the last time we were together, when you pushed your cock in my pussy, then in my mouth. I licked my lips, still tasting you on them. .

My pussy was shaved completely smooth. Touching it and fingering it made me ache to be with you. Naked, and looking in the mirror, I started to finger my wet pussy -- slipping first one finger, then two up inside me. I parted my legs and shoved those fingers inside me. The sound of my fingers going in and out of me was driving me wild. I used my other hand to rub my clit hard. Oh baby, I wanted to feel your cock in me. NOW. I rubbed my pussy like crazy -- fantasizing about you penetrating me over and over again.

It wasn't long before I had an intense orgasm. The muscles squeezed my fingers hard as I came. God, that was good. As I watched in the mirror, I stroked my hard nipples with my cum-soaked fingers. They were shiny from my wetness. I watched myself lick the cum from my nipple. It felt so good to feel that soft tongue caressing my breast. I loved seeing my reflection in the mirror as I shook and throbbed from my orgasm.

I walked back in to the room and put on my bra and tiny panties. My hair and makeup were done to perfection -- I wanted to be so perfect for you. I even put on my heels -- high heels with straps around the ankles. I felt tall and incredibly sensual waiting for you.

Soon the moment was here. You knocked on the door, and I opened it to find you nicely dressed, carrying roses and a bottle of wine. We kissed as I invited you in. By now, I was wearing a silk robe over my lingerie. You set the flowers and wine down, and took me in your arms. A passionate kiss -- I loved feeling your tongue in my mouth. We kissed and sucked and rubbed up against each other. Soon I felt your hands opening my robe. You let out a gasp as you saw my outfit. "Beautiful" was all you whispered.

We kissed again. I told you to sit on the bed -- as I had a surprise for you. You sat on the edge of the bed, and I walked right up to you. I let the robe slide seductively to the floor, exposing my full breasts and smooth pussy. As the robe slid down, I placed my thigh right up against your leg. I let my fingers slide up my inner thigh, and pushed a finger inside my thong. I wet it in my pussy. I moaned softly -- I was already swollen and ready to make love. I gave you my finger to taste. You lapped up my juices like a little kitten.

By this time, I had been teasing you into a sexual frenzy. The smell of my skin, the taste of my pussy and the sight of my body were driving you crazy. You stood up, grabbed my arms and kissed me hard. You were taking control now. The teasing was going to stop and you were going to have me NOW.

You carried me to the bed. I lay down and looked up into your eyes. We both wanted this moment for so long. I lay on the bed, and you lay down beside me. I felt you stroking my hair and kissing me softly. You cuddled me in your arms and held me close. We made love over and over again. "Did you like that baby?"

"Oh, yes," was all I could whisper in reply. 



Waiting



*James and Daniel belong to me. Have fun with them, please don't steal them. 

____________________________________

I closed the door behind me, the alarm beeping softly in it's one-two time, and wiggled the handle to make sure it was locked. Narrowly avoiding a fresh wad of pink soft looking bubblegum, I bent and picked up the trash bag waiting for me in the hallway. I clipped my keys onto my belt loop and slipped my headphones over my ears, blaring altrock as I padded quietly down the hallway. I headed past the back doors of other mall stores and further into the labyrinth of back-alley hallways towards the movie theatre exit, checking my text messages as I went. Pretty standard stuff, brother wants to borrow my cd, mom is mad I didn't call, boyfriend can't find his belt... blah blah, I responded to a few and tucked my phone into my back pocket. 

My hand was barely on the door handle, the neon EXIT sign bathing my skin in red when a dark blur hit me like a train from my left. I found myself pinned to the wall, trapped and gasping. There were hands around my body, trapping me into a corner between this person, the fire extinguisher box, and a dirty cement wall. He reached to my waist and ripped my keys from my pants, sending the little strip of fabric flying between us, and a scream welled up in my throat. He threw the keys, jingling and skidding, down the empty hallway, then ripped my headphones violently away and they followed suit. His other hand wrapped around my neck and pressed a sharp object into the tender skin at the hollow there. 

"If you scream, I'll make you bleed." He blew the words as scalding air across my ear, and my whole body tightened in terror at the sound. I was breathing too quickly, my heart pounding a terrible tattoo against my chest. 

"What do you want?" I whispered, shuttering, terrified. He didn't answer, but pushed my face against the wall with one hand. It was so cold. I whimpered and screwed my eyes closed, pushing back against him with my body, trying pathetically to get away. 

"Stop it." He smashed my face against the wall with a crack, and dots of light danced behind my closed eyelids. The hand around my throat found its way to my thin t-shirt, his fingers tracing the outline of my bra pressed close to the fabric. My teeth clenched and I dropped the trash bag, using both hands in a pushup motion against the wall, and shoved, ramming his back into the fire extinguisher, before turning and pulling away from him. 

He was faster than me, and with a grunt from hitting the metal box, he grabbed at my right elbow with one arm and bent it backwards at a funny angle. I moaned in pain, my eyes rolling back in my head, and slumped in his grip. He spun me to face him and tore my pocket out in one practiced move, letting my cell phone crack loudly to the floor and kicked it away from us. One hand traveled back up my body and wrapped itself in my messy ponytail, sending black tendrils into both of our faces but giving him control of my upper body. 

He had a black knitted beanie with a blue stripe all the way around it pulled all the way down to his eye brows. His eyes were stunning, a crystal, sparkling blue, though they were set too deep in his face, the dark look in those perfect eyes chilled my blood. That was all I could see of him however, he was covered in a heavy leather jacket with a high collar, buckled all the way up, covering his chin, mouth and nose. His skin was white, and I could tell he was flushed. 

He pulled my injured arm upwards, over my head, and held it between several fingers of the hand in a death grip of my hair. His whole upper body leaned in towards me, pinning my chest with his shoulder, he grabbed my other arm and wrenched it upwards as well, my wrist joining his collection in my hair. His hands were so large they covered both my slender wrists, his hand slipped into his jacket and pulled a neon bit of plastic from its depths. I realized what it was and began my struggling again in earnest, small terrified noises spilling from my lips. 

His hands stalled in their motions, and he looked into my eyes. "What did I say to you?" He said, crushing my wrists painfully against each other.

"w-what?" I stuttered.

"If you scream?" He pulled shoved his hand into the pocket and pulled out a flat silver object. With one smooth motion he flicked the blade out, the light glittering wickedly off the metal in the dim hallway. 

I didn't know what answer he wanted. My bottom lip quivered and I watched his hand go towards the other at my head. "Y-you'll make me bleed?" the words came tumbling thickly out between heavy shuttering breaths. 

"Good girl." There was a small noise, vippp, and my hands where suddenly clinched together against hard plastic. I gasped, taking in a sharp breath, my ribs and face aching. One hand slid down the side of my face, the other down my neck, my arm, towards my waist. My arms slipped backwards, the small circle of plastic getting caught on my ponytail, and I clenched my eyes closed again. His fingers came roughly into my mouth as he shoved them and my eyes snapped open, a small noise falling from my throat. 

"Shhh." He muttered, and slid his big fingers back and forth over my tongue, violating my mouth, my jaw stretched and burned and I groaned. 

He wondering hand found the edge of my t-shirt and ripped the hem upwards spilling my crimson clad breasts into his vision. He stared at my bra for a long time, the fingers in my mouth moving faster, he shoved a third one between my lips and groaned, grinding his hips into mine. I tried to wiggle away, but only managed to press my back harder against the wall. He was so firm. His dick was hard, and huge, pressing into the softness at the front of my body. I squealed, and the first tears slipped from my eyes. The fingers in my mouth slid away, he smeared them through the tears on my face, the salty smell of saliva and my own tears mingling around us. 

He was gripping my hair suddenly, tearing at it and pushing me to my knees. I gasped and fought against him, but he pushed me down. "No! Please!" I shoved my head into the corner, as far from him in the tight space. He looked down at me and used both hand to caress himself against his black jeans. My eyes closed and I bit my lips trying to quell the scream inside of me. I heard his clothing shuffle, and the slow distinctive sound of his zipper going down. "Nooo." I sobbed, moaned the word, and felt his hands grip my hair again. 

I opened my eyes to the monstrosity in front of me. His cock was huge, throbbing against my face. I shook my head and struggled, his fist tightening painfully in my hair. The head of his dick came to rest against my mouth and I cried, tears sliding silently down my cheeks. One of his huge hands gathered the wetness and rubbed it onto his cock, he used that slickness to slide slowly back and forth against my mouth. I rolled my eyes up to look at him, pleading with my eyes. The hand in my hair wrenched my head back, in one taught line, and I almost screamed, I would have, but his monster muffled the sound. He thrust his cock into my mouth, jabbing against my throat and I gagged, fat tears coming fast from my eyes. 

The man groaned in one long drawn out noise, and used my hair to pull me back and forth slickly over his dick. Choking me as it hit the back of my throat again and again.

"That's my good little bitch," he sighed the words softly into the dark, "that's a good little girl." His hips thrust forward sharply and I make a sharp muffled sound of displeasure. "Suck my cock." He continued to fuck my mouth, his cock getting harder as he moved, pulling little pained noised from me as he yanked on my black curls. "Suck it!" he groaned and thrust his whole body against me, smacking the back of my skull into the wall. "Yesss. I was waiting for you all day. You little slut."

"Mm Mmmm!" I struggled against him, scratching and pulling at his hand where I could possibly reach while they were tied, and forced myself not to vomit on him, hot steady tears tracking down my face. The hand not holding my mouth to him reached between us, grabbed a fistful of my shirt and pulled, ripping it free of my body. My eyes widened and I screamed, as he thrust franticly against my throat. He let out a deep, thick grumble, and hot wetness spilled out into my mouth, filling and choking me. His dick spilled from between my lips and cum dribbled out of my mouth. He slapped me, once, hard across the face, and my head snapped up, staring angrily into his face.

"Now, now," he whispered "You're spilling." And he used two fingers to slide that thick cum back into my mouth, then he gripped my jaw closed. "Swallow all my cum." He put his face close to mine, his mouth almost touching my moist lips. "Swallow. It." I clenched my teeth and swallowed, my stomach churning.

I was suddenly moving, his hands on my body as he flipped me once again. I was unsteady, half on my feet when I felt the blade against my lower back. I stilled in his arms, and air hissed silently through my lips. "Stop. Please don't do this." My voice was soft and pathetic, and I closed my eyes against it. The cold metal came to the waistband of my work pants, and started a slow saw through the fabric. I whimpered and squirmed slowly against the cement. One of his hands gripped my breast and I moaned in pain. His hand delved into my bra and he twisted my nipple, roughly, quickly and I cried out. His cock was hard again, I could feel it against my knees. His blade made it though my pants, snagged on my panties, before clattering to our feet. 

Both of his hands settled at my waist and ripped my pants away, toppling me, and sending me to the floor at his feet. He kicked me and I grunted, twisting to hide my nakedness from him. "You're hurting me!" I shivered, and tried my best to scuttle away from him. He grabbed me by the front of my bra, lifting me from the floor, half against the wall, and thrust his naked cock against my pussy. "No!" my voice, got louder, shrill, and he lifted the blade to my chest. "Oh God. God. Oh God." The words were breathy, pulled from my throat. 

I heard the wet sound of ripping fabric and felt the bra come away, a scrap of blood cast to the floor. The tip of his dick slid inside of me and I screamed, the noise echoing into the hall way. His whole body stilled and he looked down at me. He put his hand against my face, with those heat filled eyes staring holes into my head, curled them into hooks against my cheek bone, and raked his nails down my face. I screamed the whole time he did it, felt as the scalding blood welled up and dripped off my chin. 

"Don't scream again." He shifted his hips, more of his monstrous cock entering my tight pussy, sliding against the minimal wetness. "You won't like what happens." 

There was a shuffling noise behind us, a loud click, and his body shifted away from me, his cock slipping out of me as the sound of multiple footsteps echoed into the hallway. We could hear the voices of girls lifting into the air, laughing and talking. He pulled something from his pocket and shoved it into my mouth, it was hot and thick, maybe a sock or a glove, then trapped my head against the wall, and slid us sideways further into the darkness. I struggled against him, trying to move towards the girls, but he just pressed his hand into my throat, choking me, blocking all hopes of making any noise. 

"God people are so rude." Muttered one girl as they moved down the hallway, "They left all their trash here, like dumpster is like ten feet away." I could hear the metal sound of soda cans, and the dry rustle of trash bags, she must have lifted the bag. The voices of the girls grew dim, and the wall shuttered as the outside door swung closed. My only hope had vanished. 

His head turned slowly, like a snake, as if in slow motion and he shifted his hips, ramming his cock into my exposed body. I cried out in shock and pain against my gag, and gave one last violent struggle, the tears falling from my eyes once more. 

"Oh?" he groaned against my face. He slid his cock away from me, and a thick wetness slid between us. He touched it, and brought it to my face, the tips of his fingers stained with blood. "A virgin?" again he rammed his cock into me and I screamed as he tore me even further, his monster of a dick burying itself into my too tight pussy.

"Ugh!" I screamed, and struggled, battering at his face with my elbows. He swatted them away, with anger in his eyes, and thrust into me, groaning low and deep. I grunted in pain and angled my hips away from him.

Over and over he thrust his hard cock into my little pussy, ripping and tearing at my insides. "Uh, uh, uh" the noises of pleasure were ripped hotly from his mouth, as he slipped his hands against my ass and angled my hips off the wall, towards his body. He pulled my feet off the ground and wrapped them around his waist. It hurt so bad. I moaned and screamed, struggling against my bonds. 

I pushed the gag from my mouth with my tongue and spit it at him. "stop, please! It hurts! Oh God it hurt!" he didn't stop, but grew faster, his eyes filling with a new heat at every pained noise I made. "Pleeease." I cried, "It hurts so bad. You're tearing me apart!" He grew faster, beating my body into the wall behind us, bruising my smooth skin against the cement, and we slid down until I was lying on the cold floor beneath him. "No! Don't! Stop it!"

"Never." He hissed the word at me, and continued his hard pounding into my pussy, deep into my body, pounding harder and harder with every stroke. A light sweat broke out on his forehead and I cried out in pain. He slapped me across the face, drawing blood from my mouth. I choked on it, and spit it at him. His stokes grew frantic and hot inside of me, and his breath came in deep groans from his body. "Oh, you hot bitch. Oh." He groaned long and loud and slapped my breasts repeatedly, leaving stinging handprints across me. I moaned, and struggled, kicking my feet around us.

"Please!" I screamed, but it was too late. He let out a terrible yell and shuttered against me, his cock going terribly hand and deep inside my body and I felt shot after shot of his hot cum inside me. "Nooo..." the word was little more than a whisper, as I shook my head back and forth. "No." He pounded me several more times into the floor, a deep chuckle spilling from his lips. 

"No, what? Too late now." He left his cock inside me, and lifter two hands to the zipper of his jacket, still covering his nose and mouth. He unzipped it slowly, evil set deep in his eyes. A strong chiseled nose came into view, a beautiful bow shaped mouth flush with lust, and straight clean teeth.

"Danny?" I whispered, shocked to my very core.

"Daniel isn't home" The words came from my friends mouth, but the voice didn't belong. He grinned, the smile of the devil, wrenched my head back from my hair and bit me. He tore at my throat like a dog and I screamed, long and loud down the cold dark hallway. 

I kept screaming as the pain grew, building in a hot fiery line through my body until I thought I would explode. Distantly I felt Danny's huge cock grow firm again but I was unconcerned. My scream grew louder, but Danny stopped, leaned toward me, thrusting his cock hilt deep inside of me, and blew cold air into my mouth. A dark heat grew inside my pussy, filling me to my eyes with hot hard pleasure, and I screamed an orgasm against his neck, sitting up and dancing my body on top of his, rubbing as much skin as I could against him.

"Oh, Yes!" I screamed. "Yes!"

He lifted me, pushing me against the wall again, thrusting over and over until I came on his cock again, lifting and screaming his name into the air. He lowered me, and my feet slid to the ground, a deep contented sigh falling from my mouth. He leaned forward and kissed me, filling my mouth with the taste of my own blood. I smiled against his mouth. He pulled away from me, his cock slipping from my pussy with an audible pop. I looked at it, and licked my lips, my body growing tight and full.

"More." I groaned, and tipped forward, trying to reach him on unsteady legs. 

"Not quite yet, my pet." He stepped away from me, and I let out a frustrated howl, pulling at the bonds holding my wrists together. He grinned, the grin I have learned to hate. "You have to earn it." Then he turned and left. He walked out of the mall's employee hallways and left me, fucked, bleeding and want with a need I had never known in the darkness.



Waiting



Terry Collier sat at the bar, fiddling with the drink in front of him. The din of the casino surrounded him, never ending, but it was almost like he could not hear it.

Every single nerve ending in his body was alert.

What was happening up there, right at this very moment? His imagination was running wild, all sorts of possible fantasy situations ran through his mind.

Melissa, his wife of almost two dozen years was up there, in the suite they had rented for nearly an entire week. Terry always called her Mel, his pet name. 

Still attractive at now 42, she kept herself in great shape, he loved that and he loved her.

Gone was the lean and lithe body Mel had when they were both so very young, yet she had matured well. The medium sized bust had settled, developed into the soft and delightful sag that felt so wonderful to lift and caress. The once flat and muscular abdomen bore the faint marks of two children, even though each time during her pregnancy Terry had carefully rubbed her swelling tummy down with Cocoa butter almost daily.

That had been a fine time, from the moment she told him that they were expecting, he had done that each and every night without fail as she lay there accepting, clearly purring in delight.

The result of their unions were two strapping boys, both of them were a joy. There was a closeness, a bond between Terry and Mel and the two boys that Terry was reasonably sure had something to do with those nightly sessions.

Unlike so many families they knew, their own children often reached out to touch, it was almost like they knew even in the womb that the stroking and touch was happening, and it comforted them.

The boys both thought nothing of hugging and kissing their Father, even now as adults.

Now with their sons off to their own lives, the weekly phone calls came without fail, always ending with "I love you!" as they sat with their speaker phone on so both Terry and Mel missed nothing.

Renton had shown up one Saturday with a young lady, a small and pretty little thing he wanted them to meet. Terry noticed instantly the smell of Cocoa Butter on her, and smiled inwardly at that.

Renton's eyes had met his father's that afternoon, a look passed between them, both knew exactly what the other's thoughts were. Renton just grinned, knowing his Father was well aware that this relationship had evolved to sexuality.

The youngest, Terrance, was so involved in his studies that he had not yet settled on a regular girl friend, and he seemed in no hurry in that respect.

Those thoughts passed through Terry's mind as he sat alone in the casino bar, watching ice cubes melt slowly in the glass.

+++

The discovery of Terry's own illicit desires had came completely by accident. The two of them had decided to drive up a nearby mountain to a resort, head out across the slopes and do some skiing like they had done years before prior to their children arriving.

Long unused muscles rather quickly began to complain about suddenly being forced into effort, and by nightfall the very first evening, Mel was complaining about her hips and legs. Terry understood perfectly because he felt the very same issue.

The big muscles in his fanny actually felt like even taking a step would require some forethought and planning.

The long soak in the resort's community hot tub had helped, but didn't quite do the job. That had been fun all by itself, Terry was settled in letting the water jets pound his lower back when Mel came down. There were two younger men sitting in the huge tub with him, and one young woman that looked to be about twenty was clearly with one of the two men. Even with the bubbles in the screaming hot water hiding them from view, Terry could see the brief intimate touches between the two, it was fun to watch.

Mel came into the community hot tub area, went over to a nearby table and slid her cover off her shoulders.

"Oh, my aching God!" One of the men blurted out barely loud enough for Terry to hear. The other young man turned to look, his face breaking into a huge smile. Terry glanced over also, Mel was standing there with her back arched, both hands rubbing her protesting hip muscles. This caused her breasts to lift, the lime green bikini she had on was new, one Terry had never seen before.

There really wasn't a hell of a lot of material in the new suit, and standing innocently sideways to them it was almost like she was displaying herself.

Terry felt a burst of pride, Mel looked so beautiful, so delightful that his own body flushed with a flash of desire.

She then turned and walked towards the tub, the natural sway of her hips appeared sexual but it was not something she could even avoid. The fact that the suit was new and quite a bit smaller than she normally wore was obvious from the amount of far lighter flesh showing around the edges of the tiny outfit.

Terry knew at a glance that Mel must have at least trimmed the full bush she usually left natural, otherwise dark brownish curls would have been exposed both at the sides and the top.

He felt his body flush even more, so he slipped a bit deeper into the water to try and hide his reaction.

As she sat on the lip of the tub, dangling her feet into the water, Mel reached over and let her hand drift idly across Terry's shoulders, an easy act of affection that she did constantly at home.

Mel was totally relaxed, thus mildly careless. As she dangled her legs in the hot water, alowing her skin to adjust to the temperature, she swirled on leg back and forth. The suit material was thin, the tuft of pubic hair she had retained created a soft bulge right at her groin. Terry's eyes fell to that, his body shuddered involuntarily.

Mel noticed that, she usually noticed everything. A soft smile crossed her lips, the fact that her body, so familar to her man still caused a reaction in him even after years of marriage was a sweet success. 

Her intention had been to do exactly that. The thought of others also being there had never crossed Mel's mind, not really.

The young men were clearly affected, Terry saw and understood that, since he also felt himself reacting. He didn't mind at all, it filled him with a sense of pride that he was the one Mel was with.

Even the very young lady that was also in the tub took note of her, Terry saw her eyes widen slightly as she glanced at Mel's body, then her face flushed. He barely managed to stifle a laugh.

Other than small talk, that was all that happened but the young people's reaction to the way Mel looked stuck in Terry's mind.

He did not completely understand his own excitement, Men had noticed Mel many times before so this was nothing new.

Except for the fact that she was as close to naked as she could get and still be decent in public? He had never really witnessed that before except for one time.

Just one time Mel had gone topless on a public beach but during that incident they were mostly behind some large rocks and out of anyone's view. She had quickly covered up that day when a young couple wandered by, holding hands.

The guy, barely more than a boy had glanced at Mel and grinned, they simply continued on their way. The woman he was holding hands with wore only the tiniest of thongs, her nearly flat chest stone white.

"Cute one, huh?" Mel whispered, a trace of humor in her voice. She picked right up on her husband's reaction, the young lady was quite attractive. Mel felt no jealousy at Terry's taking notice, she was completely confident in her own ability to attract.

+++

Later up in their room at the casino and resort, Terry began to make the familiar motions they both knew quite well, the preliminary to love making.

"Oh, honey. I would love to but my hips and fanny hurt like the dickens. I must be getting old." She protested.

"You are still the most beautiful thing on Earth." Terry told her, giving her side a short pat.

So instead of trying to make love, Terry found some lotion the resort supplied and had her lie on the bed on a towel and he rubbed her down. But after just a few minutes, his own lower back began to complain so he had to stop.

"It's OK honey. Say, they have a gym here, maybe you could see if they have someone on staff that does rubdowns?" Mel asked.

"I don't know, I don't think having some guy rub out my behind is something I want to do very badly." Terry told her.

"Well, maybe they have a cute girl working here." Mel giggled.

"Oh boy! Now that I might go for." Terry teased her right back.

"Well, why not? Go ahead and call the front desk." Mel urged.

"Naw, I would be embarrassed." 

"Oh, don't be silly. They are professionals, it's just a massage. Besides, I will if you will." She grinned.

"OK. You call then." Terry grinned at her.

Mel hopped up and went to the phone which surprised Terry some. He had expected her to pass on the idea. 

She dialed the front desk, spoke to someone. But of course he could only hear one side of the conversation.

"Yes, I can imagine. That's what happened to us, it's been years since we did any skiing."

"Really? I never thought of trying that, it sounds neat."

"$200.00? Both of us at once? When? Great, thanks!" She hung up, then turned to Terry.

"They have a couple that does something they call a tandem, we both get rubdowns at the same time right here in the room." She said.

"Really? You actually ordered one?" Terry asked.

"Yep, I sure did. They will be here in an hour. The woman can work on me and the guy can work on you. The woman on the front desk said they are really good." Mel grinned at him.

"There is no way in hell I am going to let some strange guy I don't know rub my behind." Terry said.

"Oh, homophobic, are we?" She laughed.

"No, it's not that. It's just....?" Terry didn't know what it was, it was that the very idea of it made him cringe.

Hell, maybe that was it, he never really thought about it.

"Ok. We will do it the other way then, it's just going to be a massage so it's no big deal."

"You are OK with some woman giving me a rubdown?" Terry was a little bit surprised.

"Sure, if you are OK with some guy rubbing me. It would be sort of like at the Doctor, I guess?"

"Maybe. I suppose they use sheets or something?" Terry asked.

"Probably. I have my old bathing suit I can wear, and you can just keep on your underwear?" Mel suggested.

They both looked at each other, then Terry shrugged.

"OK, then. I better hit the showers. We already hired them so we might as well use the service since it's charged to our room." Mel said.

"All right, I suppose it's OK. Don't use up all the hot water." Terry laughed. Mel did tend to spend extreme lengths of time when she got in the shower.

Terry was drying himself off when the knock came at the door, he quickly reached for his briefs and tugged on one of the huge white robes.

He suddenly felt a bit of shyness, after all, they didn't know these people at all.

"You are really going to wear those? How are they going to rub out your behind with them on?" Mel asked.

"What? You mean you are....?" He asked. Mel quickly flashed him with a giggle. She was nude underneath her own robe.

She smirked at Terry. This might be fun, she delighted in his reactions and while in the shower had made the decision to just go for it. After all, Terry was right there, so nothing was going to happen.

"Oh, good grief." Terry slid his briefs back off, gathered the robe securely and opened the door.

+++

"Hi, I'm Mark, this is my wife Sheila. You ordered the tandem?" The man asked.

Terry nodded, they came in pushing carts with huge foldup tables on them.

Terry checked them out, Mark appeared to be in his forties, he was perhaps an inch shorter than the woman. Mark was mildly balding and appeared muscular, Sheila was clearly younger and rather pretty in a way. They both wore black slacks and white smocks. They had the tables set up very quickly in practiced motions.

"Go ahead and undress to your level of comfort, we will start you out face down. Here is a bath towel to use as a cover, OK? We will go wash up, call out when you are ready." Sheila said, smiling. The two of them stepped into the bathroom.

Mel glanced over at Terry as she peeled back her robe, her being completely naked caused an excited flutter in his belly. Giving him an impish grin, she climbed on the table and settled down, turning her head on a pillow to watch Terry as he climbed on himself.

The towel was very large, it reached from the middle of his calves to the back of his neck, it was soft and felt snuggly. He grinned as she struggled to cover her bare fanny with the big fluffy towel.

"OK." He called out as she finally settled in face down.

Terry half expected to need to tell them which one would work on each of them but Mark went directly to Mel and Sheila stepped up to the table with Terry.

"Have you ever had a massage before?" She asked him.

"No, not really. We give each other massages at home of course, but that's all." He answered.

"Well, you are in for a real treat." She told him, as her hands began to work on his legs.

Terry was watching Mark work on Mel's legs at the same time, the way the tables were situated side by side he could see clearly what the man was doing.

When Sheila got to the top of his legs, each stroke her hands slipped off to the outside. At first he almost expected her to actually touch him, but she did not.

He began to relax finally, she was being cautious about his modesty. It felt wonderful, his poor over worked legs really were sore. In short order he began to feel himself relax, and he very nearly drifted off to sleep.

"I need to fold the drape back to work out your glutes. Is that all right?" She asked him.

Terry nodded, then felt the towel folded aside. For a moment he thought she had uncovered his groin but the towel drooped downward. Glancing over at Mel, he saw that Mark had Melisa's left buttock bared and was working the flesh there slowly. His hands swirled in counter clockwise circles, causing the flesh to bulge ahead of each stroke. Her firm fanny now glistened with the oil, the stark white of the bare flesh never exposed to the Sun was almost a shock, there was so much of it.

Mel's eyes met his, she had a questioning look on her face. Terry just shrugged, so she closed her eyes with a sigh.

He watched carefully, he never saw the man do anything else he would consider out of line though. When he recovered her, he did an expert motion, sliding the towel over her and tucking it in at her hips.

When Mark moved upwards to her back and shoulders, he leaned down and said something to her, she nodded with a murmur Terry didn't catch. The man then peeled the towel back, leaving it draped over her lower body.

Terry could see the sides of Mel's bare breasts from his angle. Mark allowed his fingers to stroke there as he worked on her sides, but he made no move to reach further.

When it came time to turn over, he saw Mark trap the edge of the towel against the table with his knees, then lift it so that Mel could roll over.

For a moment he saw her body clearly but of course Mark was on the other side as the man again flipped the towel expertly and let it settle.

As Sheila did the same with Terry, for a moment he felt uncomfortable at the idea of being exposed briefly but Mark had his back to him by then.

Once again it was feeling wonderful, and Terry felt himself beginning to doze off. He woke up when he felt Sheila's soft hands making large clockwise circles around his chest and stomach, she had the towel folded down all the way to his pubic hair.

Glancing over at Mel, he saw with a start that Mark was doing the exact same thing except for a strip of cloth he had laid across her breasts.

Terry had not seen that happen, he wondered briefly how Mark had managed that without exposing her.

Other than that her entire upper body was bare and the man's hands were circling up and over the lower edges of her breasts, then down to smaller circles on her belly. Each circle was just with his fingertips, Terry saw that the man was carefully avoiding reaching under the wisp of cloth to the nipple area.

That was a surprise, he would not have expected Mel to allow that, but she was not protesting so he said nothing.

It was fascinating, watching as the flesh of her breasts moved and was pressed aside by the pressure of Mark's hands.

He felt himself quickly begin to erect at watching, another surprise.

"How are you doing?" Sheila's voice broke his thoughts as her hands drifted right across the flesh above his pubic mound, the sheet was barely above the hair there.

"I..uhh...fine." Terry managed to mutter as he realized he was fully erect. He was staring at what Mark was doing, mesmerized. He glanced at Sheila, aware that she had to know he had come erect, but she showed no signs at all of reacting.

Then Mark picked up a small soft towel, lay that carefully over Mel's bare breasts and slid the strip of cloth out from underneath. Terry got a brief glimpse of her. Sheila's nipples were extended, that was clear so she was feeling the same sensations that he was.

"Oh, that is so warm." She said quietly. Terry looked and saw they had some kind of small towel heater plugged in, moments later Sheila draped one over his own chest.

"That's not too hot, is it?" She asked.

"No, it's fine. It feels wonderful, in fact." He answered.

Then she picked up a small tool of some kind, it looked like a liquid filled pad. She poked it with her finger, something spread across it and it changed color.

"This will feel very warm, I am going to use it on those sore pelvic muscles." She reached down and used the side of her hand on the towel to push his groin aside. Pressing the small pad to his lower stomach, she drew it downwards across the crease between his hip and his groin.

Whatever the thing was it felt very warm, almost too hot. He could feel it barely brush his testicle with each stroke as she moved it a few inches up and down.

Glancing over at Mel and Mark, Terry saw the man was doing the same thing to her, he was now on the opposite side though and he could not see if she was exposed. 

Her eyes were tightly shut however and her face had reddened.

When Mark moved to the other side, Terry saw the towel was barely covering her, another inch and she would be exposed. The strokes were very slow, up and down, up and down. Sheila was doing the same thing to him, it took every bit of mind control he had to keep from having an orgasm.

If she had touched him, even once a bit more intimately, Terry was sure he would have. She had to know that he was fully erect, there was no way to hide that, the large bulge in the towel made that quite clear.

Mercifully, she stopped what she was doing as the small pad cooled.

Then they finished up quickly and stepped to the bathroom while the two of them sat up and reached for their robes. Terry felt wonderful, he no longer had the aching in his hip, no stiffness at all.

Terry looked pointedly at Mel, she saw his glance and blushed.

"Wow!" She mouthed silently, then broke into a huge grin. Her eyes dropped down to his now enormous erection, Terry bashfully tugged the robe over to cover himself.

He could see his wife was struggling to keep from giggling.

They signed the ticket to their room, adding a nice tip, and the couple left. They got dressed, neither one saying anything.

+++

"That was way more than I expected." Mel finally said as they sat sharing a bottle of wine.

"Yea, I don't know what that pad thing they had was, but that sure was hot."

"Yes, I saw that. I don't know what I was feeling, it was sort of erotic." She said.

"I meant the temperature." He told her with a laugh.

"Oh." Mel blushed furiously.




Waiting



"That turned you on, got you excited, didn't it?" Terry asked her pointedly.

Mel nodded.

"Yes, honey. It was warm and he had it....right there..almost? God. Then I looked over and she was doing the same thing, I could tell that you were excited too."

"Well, I guess I was." Terry admitted.

"I didn't expect....?" She said.

"I didn't either. You let him touch your breasts." Terry told her, reaching out to hug her.

"I saw that she was doing your chest, and you always do it at home so I guess...it just felt natural? Besides, I don't think he saw anything."

"I was just a little surprised, is all. That strip of cloth was only about two inches wide." Terry said.

"She didn't cover your chest at all."

"I think it's different with men." Terry laughed.

"Lord, we are awful. I can't believe we just did that. Come to bed." Mel suddenly got a look on her face Terry recognized.

"We just got dressed." Terry teased her.

"Uh huh." She folded into his arms.

+++

The next morning at breakfast they decided it would be a good idea to not try and do any more skiing for awhile.

"So what would you like to do, then?" She asked.

"Oh, maybe hang out around the casino section, see if we can win some money. Maybe go soak in the hot tub for awhile, do some people watching?"

"OK. What about this evening?"

"What do you mean, this evening?" Terry asked her.

"Do you want to...maybe get another rubdown?" She asked, almost blushing at saying it.

Terry looked at her. She was having trouble even suggesting it, a surprise to him because they had always found it easy to talk about anything.

"You liked that, didn't you?" He asked her with an evil grin.

"Yes, I did. I also really liked the way that got you going, honey." She stepped in close, slid her fingers in between the buttons of his shirt.

"You did, huh? Watching some lady almost jack me off got you all excited?" He teased.

"Yea, it did." Melissa laughed nervously, her face reddened a little bit.

"Well, it did the same thing to me. Watching you, I mean." He admitted.

She didn't answer for a long time.

"That was the best and strongest...orgasm I have had in a long time, honey. Afterwards, with you, I mean. It lasted at least 30 seconds, amazing."

"Yea, me too." He admitted.

"Are we OK with this? I mean, it's not cheating or anything like that."

"Yes, it's fine. Kind of a kick, watching some guy rub you like that. It was sort of...hot?"

"Oh, really?" Melissa giggled.

"Yea, I am a sick pervert, I can hardly wait for later to bend you right over the back of the couch." He grinned.

"We don't have a couch up there." Mel snickered.

"The chair then." He grinned.

"Oh, goodie!" She laughed. Holding hands like a couple of kids, they went to get something to eat.

+++

They were back in their room later that afternoon when Terry brought it up again.

"Well, do you want to, honey?" He asked. The idea had now been inside his head most of the day.

"Want to what? Oh, you mean get another rubdown?" She replied.

"Sure, why not? We are on vacation."

"OK. I guess so. As long as you are OK with it? I mean, that was kind of...intimate. I mean, he didn't touch anything, but he sure did get...close. You won't be bothered?"

"No, it didn't bother me. They didn't do anything. Well, just your boobs but no harm done there. Besides, it was sort of a turnon."

"Yes, I know, she did your boobies, too. And she didn't put any drape on yours."

"I don't have boobies." Terry laughed.

"Yes, you do." She grinned. 

"That was fun, wasn't it?" He asked.

"It was for me, too." Mel looked at Terry, saw he was grinning.

"Say, tell me. Did he...I mean, could he actually see you while he was using that hot pad thing?"

"No, I don't think so, maybe a little bit. I felt covered but he was using that heat pad thing and it was right along side." Mel reached down and rubbed her lower pelvis to demonstrate where she meant.

Terry felt his face flush. Mel looked at him slightly puzzled, then she smiled.

"How about...? I mean, say? Why not..encourage him a little bit?" Terry asked, haltingly.

"Now jhat do you mean, encourage?"

"You know. Maybe when he is working in close like that, you could...open your legs a little bit?" Just saying that made Terry's voice catch in his throat.

Melissa tipped her head back and laughed.

"God. You want me to..let him look?"

"Yea, that would be hot." Terry managed.

"I don't know how to do that without it appearing weird."

"You could try, OK?" He asked.

"Maybe. I don't know. I don't want to embarrass anyone."

"I doubt he would be, after all, he is a guy and we all like to look." Terry laughed.

"So do we girls, you know, but still. I think it might be weird to actually do something."

"I'm sorry then, just relax and be you. I guess it was just a silly fantasy." Terry said.

Melissa came over and sat down next to Terry, she reached over and found him erect again.

"You are really naughty, aren't you? Here, let me help you with that!" She tittered.

Oral sex was something Melissa did from time to time and Terry was always happy to return the favor. But it was also more rare then not in their lifestyle.

She was eager this time, after, they lay in each other's arms and basked.

Finally Mel got up, went and called the front desk.

She hung up with an unhappy look on her face.

"They aren't available this evening, they are booked I guess."

"Oh, well. We can just lay back and relax, maybe later on we can go down and play some of the quarter machines."

They were just getting ready to leave the room when the phone rang.

Terry answered, It was Mark on the line.

"I had a cancellation, so I am available this evening for both of you if you would still like the massage." His pleasant voice said.

"I...uhh...Maybe Mel would but I don't think...?" Terry stammered.

"OK. I understand. Perhaps the lady would then?" He asked.

"Just a minute, I will ask her."

"Who is that, honey?" Mel came out of the bathroom.

"It's Mark, he has an appointment available after all, do you want to?" Terry asked her.

"Sure, why not?" She said.

Terry turned back to the phone, told Mark OK. He set the time, it was in just 30 minutes.

After hanging up, Terry told her Mark would be right up.

"Wait a minute? Just me? What about you?"

"Sheila isn't available, I can just go hang out down in the casino I guess."

"You aren't going to stay here?"

"No, I would feel like a pervert."

"Well, I am not going to...you know, what we talked about, then."

"That's OK. Just relax and enjoy it, it will be all right. If anything happens, just tell me about it. Besides, I am sure he won't do anything you don't let him do, after all, they have licenses and all of that."

"If you are leaving, maybe I should wear my bathing suit?" Mel asked him.

"That would be silly since you didn't last time."

"OK, then." Melissa gave Terry an odd look, went back in the bathroom to get ready.

Mark arrived right on time. Terry let him in and he set up his table just like before.

"Are you staying to watch, sir?" Mark asked Terry, which caused him to blush.

"No, I was...I thought I would just go see if I could win some money." He managed to stammer.

"All right then. Some husbands like to watch, I don't mind." Mark grinned a knowing grin.

Just then Mel came out of the other room, again wearing the big white robe. As Mark had his back turned placing some lower sheets on the table, she gave Terry a deliberate quick flash. 

Again she was completely nude underneath the robe.

Terry grinned, if she was trying to get him worked up, she certainly succeeded in that.

+++

Terry sat and sipped his second drink, his mind in turmoil.

What was happening up there?

He could not stand it any more, he got up and went to the elevators. At the door to their room, he started to knock, then realized that would be ridiculous, so he inserted his key card and opened the door. He did it slowly just in case, bumping the door to make some noise, feeling almost odd about even doing that.

Mark had his hands on Melissa's bare back, he stopped momentarily when Terry walked in.

"Did you win any money, honey?" She asked him.

"No, I didn't even try, I just had a drink." For a moment he felt uncomfortable, like he was interupting or something.

"Have a seat, if you are curious as to anything I am doing, I will be happy to explain. Lots of couples come to our classes, to learn so they can massage each other." Mark said with a smile.

"Oh, you both teach school?" Terry asked. He sat on the lower end of the bed, the TV set was there and it retracted into the cabinet so that gave him a perfect view.

"Just home classes, we pick up some added money that way. Couples can be a lot of fun to work with." Again he gave Terry a big smile.

"Ok. Ready to turn over?" He asked Melissa. Again he trapped the edge of the large bath towel with his knees, and lifted the drape.

This exposed Mel completely as she rolled over, of course Mark could see nothing since he stood on the other side. Terry was not surprised to see that again her nipples were completely erect.

She glanced over at him for a moment, almost shyly, then settled back with her head on a small cushion.

Mark asked her if she wanted her upper body done, again she glanced over at Terry, who just shrugged.

"Ok, I guess." She said, settling back and closing her eyes. Mark reached for the thin strip of cloth, started to drape that over the towel covering her bust. Mel turned her head to look at Terry and then back at Mark.

"You don't need to use that if you don't mind." She told him. Mark hesitated, glanced at Terry who did not react.

"All right then, as long as you are..comfortable." He said.

Mark pulled the towel down to her navel, tucking the sides in at her hips. He began the clockwise circles with his fingertips, just like before he carefully avoided her nipples.

Terry waited, and while he spent a lot of time it began to be clear Mark was not going to touch that part of her. He could see that Mel's nipples were fully extended, almost begging.

"You aren't allowed to touch the nipples, are you? Some State law or rule?" He finally asked, wishing the instant he said it that he hadn't.

"No, not really. I guess our State assumes that would be too sensual for a normal massage." Mark answered, glancing his way.

"In fact, even baring or touching the front of the upper body is considered against our rules, but we know it feels wonderful so we don't mind." Mark added.

"Oh." Was all that Terry could manage. He had almost expected that Mark would.

"We leave that up to the client to decide." Mark suggested.

"I think it would be all right. Is it OK with you, honey?" Terry asked Melissa. She looked over at him, a twinkle crept into her eyes.

"Uh huh." She mumbled.

Mark nodded slightly, then began to stroke her full breasts completely. He spent a good 15 minutes doing that, ending by rolling each nipple between his thumb and forefingers. 

Again he pulled out a small towel from the little heater he had plugged in, and carefully draped Melissa's bust before slipping the sheet out from underneath, folding it down all the way below her navel.

Both of his hands slid directly across her bust, like he was just smoothing out the towel.

"Oh, that feels so nice." Melissa uttered as he tucked the sides in around her. Her eyes were almost closed, but she was watching Terry to see his reaction. He was leaned forward slightly, watching. 

The grin on his face let her relax.

Mark then began to work out her stomach and sides, Mel still had her eyes squeezed shut.

Terry just sat and watched, it was interesting the way the man's hands seemed to flow over his wife's body. It was like his hands did not actually move the flesh, rather they seemed to follow it as the muscles bulged slightly before the pressure. 

Watching the man work before had been interesting also, but this was entirely different. Before he had been receiving his own massage, which kept him distracted. Now he was simply sitting and watching, feeling some kind of voyeuristic pleasure in it.

Mark turned to where his small carry bag lay, he picked up one of those oddly shaped thermal pads like they had used in the earlier session.

"Would you like me to use the hot pads again?" He asked Melissa.

"Sure, OK. That felt wonderful, we should see about buying some of those." She opened her eyes and smiled.

Mark carefuly turned the edge of the drape back, baring Mel's hip and pelvis all the way back to the edge of her pubic hair. This time he didn't draw it underneath her leg to hold it snugly, he just left the sheet lay there.

When he poked the small silver circle in the pad, the color changed and flowed out until the entire little pad was a lighter color.

"These heat up to 130 degrees, they are a really neat tool." He told Terry, placing the pad on Melissa. Using his fingertips, he slid it partially under the sheet.

"MMMMM!" She mumbled.

He walked around to the other side, again rolled the drape back and placed another of the pads on her. The towel was now folded right over her pubic mound, barely covering her. The tiny suit Mel had worn down in the hot tub was only a couple of inches wide at the top, the cover was now folded at least that narrowly and it appeared to be very precarious to Terry. The slightest bump or motion and he was sure it would slip out of place.

"Oh, they are getting really warm!" Mel mumbled.

"Yes, they always feel very hot at first." Again Mark hesitated, looking over at Terry who was still watching closely.

"I can move them around a bit, that will help distribute the heat. Would you like me to?" Mark asked her.

"OK." Mel said, her eyes still squeezed tightly shut.

Mark looked over at Terry, he was still staring intently. He walked around to the other side of the table, reached over Mel's body and placed his palms on the two small thermal pads. Slick with oil, they moved easily, he rubbed them gently up and down her pelvis.

Melissa shifted slightly, opened her legs a few inches. Mark was well experienced and had seen these reactions many times before, so he curled his oily fingers downward, brushing the bare flesh right alongside her vagina.

"Oh." She said quietly, her hips made a tiny involuntary upwards motion as he drew his hand back, letting the index finger of each hand stroke the sensitive flesh.

Terry felt himself take a sharp intake of breath, he could see clearly that Mark was touching her, his fingers gently dragging across the soft flesh alongside Mel's vagina.

Once again, Mark glanced over at Terry, there was no protest. He leaned down and whispered to her.

"Is this all right?" He asked.

"Uh huh." Mel murmurred. Her legs opened even more widely. Terry could see that she was now obviously accepting the intimate touch.

Mark slowly increased the pressure, now his index fingers were rubbing the outer edges of her labia, very slowly. The towel slid downwards and he made no move to adjust it.

Mel's now glistening pussy was completely in his view.

Mark knew by then, he allowed his fingers to overlap, then slowly drew them upwards and over her now bulging lips. Her legs splayed outwards, her hips came upwards and she climaxed, letting out a long groan as he repeated the motion over and over.

As Mel began to calm down, Mark simply held his hands there, pressing gently against her sex as her body finished the final shudders. Then he reached down, pulled the towel back into place.

He stepped into the bathroom to wash up and let her get up, put on her robe.

Terry sat there almost in shock, he had just watched the man masturbate his wife to a climax, and she had allowed it.

He had no voice to even speak.

Mel looked at her husband, she now felt bashful about what had just happened. For several long moments she had forgotten where she was and what she was doing.

"I'm sorry, honey. I didn't mean...that got out of control." She told him.

"It's OK, babe. That was the wildest thing I ever saw in my life."

"You aren't mad at me?"

"No, I'm not. That clearly felt good, and he didn't do anything to you other than touch. Was it good?"

"God, yes! We need to get ourselves some of those things." She came over and kissed her husband. The momentary concern left her, everything was OK.

Mark came out and packed up, Terry signed the ticket for the massage, adding another nice tip.

"Does something like that happen a lot?" Terry asked the man, he couldn't help himself.

"Not really, just sometimes...with special clients. We don't mind, we just want the people we work with happy, so we try to please them."

"We get repeat business that way too. Anyway, thank you and have a nice night." He grinned, turning to leave.

Just then his cell phone rang. He answered, it was his wife Sheila.

"I guess Sheila has an opening at 10 PM, would you be interested?" He asked Terry. Terry started to say no but Mel interrupted.

"Sure!" She had a huge grin on her face. Terry shrugged.

"OK then." Mark grinned.

"10 O'clock, hon. Yes, this one will be...OK this time." He spoke into his phone.

The man laughed at something she said and hung up.

"OK. She will be here at 10. Sheila is very good, so have fun!" He grinned and left.

"What did you just do?" Terry turned to Mel, who sat there with a smile on her face.

"What's OK for me is OK for you too, honey." She told him.

"Are you serious?" He asked.

"I sure am, and I want to watch!" She laughed, jumping up and giving him a hug.

Terry hugged her right back.

"This is amazing." He told her.

"Sure is!" She giggled.

Later, they lay on the bed fiddling around, but Mel would not allow him to enter her.

"Maybe later, if you have anything left." She giggled.

"You really are a pervert, aren't you?" Terry accused her.

"Yep! I sure am, but I am your pervert!" She laughed.

The knock on the door came exactly at 10 PM.

"Would you like to stay and watch?" Sheila asked Mel as she set up the table.

"Yes, I would if you don't mind." Mel said.

Sheila looked first at Terry standing there in the big white robe, then at Melissa.

"I don't mind one bit!" She grinned.



Waiting



This is my first try at erotica and I'm looking forward to feedback. 

*

The waiting is the best and the worst part. I'd already opened a bottle of wine, a petite syrah to pair with dinner, and poured myself a glass before sitting down. 

He'd left a blindfold by the bed this morning. He'd called earlier in the day to tell me he'd be late. Late, but he'd arrive promptly at 7.

"Wear the blindfold." He hung up without waiting for a response.

I had an hour before he was due home and ate the last of my dinner before taking the wine upstairs with me, turning off all but the hallway lights as I passed through the house.

My favorite soap was sitting on the bathroom countertop, also a gift from the morning. Turning on the shower, I removed my clothing and stepped in—steam caressing my body. The water ran over my full breasts, pausing at nipples that hardened in the shifting air before continuing down to my narrow waist and flaring over my hips.

The bar of soap smelled like Scottish heather, sweet and clean. I lathered a loofa and rubbed the scent into my skin, fingers trailing across myself. I couldn't help it. The anticipation of the evening was getting to me. The texture of the loofa across my breasts gave me goose bumps and I found my free hand tracing a path past my navel.

Leaning into the warm spray of water I pressed a finger between my legs, tracing my slit, while still slowly dragging the loofa across myself. Pressing more deeply, I slid a finger into my pussy, moving slowly to rub across my clit before moving back to deeper warmth. Pushing two fingers deeper, I pressed the palm of my hand against my clit. The water rolled down my back, massaging and relaxing my muscles as I began to writhe. Moving my hand faster, I plunged my fingers deeper, faster, and dropped the loofa. Fingers began pinching my nipples before I realized that they were, of course, my own. Kneeling, I rode myself to climax, water flowing through my hair, past my navel, and around my fingers.

I toweled off and dried my hair, choosing not to use any perfume and instead relied on the gentle scent of heather to cling to my damp skin. My dark hair hung just passed my shoulders. Static made it hallow my face after I pulled on a camisole top and panties. The clock read five minute until he was supposed to arrive. I put on the blindfold and lay down on the bed.

The front door opened a short time later. Smiling with anticipation, I listened to him move throughout the house, imagining what he was doing, when he'd come up the stairs. He moved into the kitchen—probably hanging up his keys. Then to the hallway—taking off his shoes. The dining room— perhaps surveying the remains of the my dinner that, in my anticipation, I'd forgotten to put away. 

The tread of his footsteps on the stairs brought me back to focus. Or perhaps made me more aware of the intensity of my focus. The bedroom door opened. I stretched out on the bed and rolled to face the door, smiling, tracing the line of my hip. I knew he was watching.

His weight on the bed forced me to shift my weight away from him. His fingers trailed up my arm to my hands which rested just above my head. He lifted one, gently nipping at my fingertips, tongue flicking across my skin. I both felt and heard the click of a cuff on my wrist at the same moment. I pulled my hand away, startled, and found that the other end had already been secured to something.

"I thought we were supposed to be introducing new things slowly?" I was hesitant. Not only to ask but to know the response. I wasn't sure how I felt about restraints.

I could hear his smile. "It's my night to pick the game." I felt another cuff being secured to my other wrist and swallowed.

He kissed me then. His lips pressed firmly against mine, smothering any further protest from me while he ran a hand slowly down my side, pressing against me. He trailed kisses down my neck, but that didn't distract me from feeling his hand move from stroking my side to pushing away the fabric of my top and cupping a breast. I couldn't stop a gasp when he grazed his thumb across my nipple, tweaking the sensitive spot into a hard peak.

His weight shifted on the bed as he straddled me, hard thighs on either side of my own. 

"I hope you don't like this top too much." I didn't have time to answer before he tore the straps.

He peeled the camisole down slowly, breathing onto my skin so that I could feel his heat. The stubble on his face grazed against my breasts as he taunted me and I felt the muscles in my back tighten as I involuntarily tried to press myself closer to him. He pushed my shirt open, baring my breasts to the cool air of the room for only a moment before his lips closed over a nipple, tongue rolling over the peak. I moaned, thrusting my chest forward, and felt his hardness growing against me. His hands traced the bit of lace at my waist for a moment, fingers barely going beneath the fabric. My wrists pulled at the cuffs. Maybe to remove the blindfold, maybe to put his hands on me and mine on him.

He began sliding down my torso, tongue and lips tracing a path across my smooth skin. He slowly slid my panties down my thighs, hands brushing close to my own heat. His teeth slid across my inner thigh and I felt his warm breath blow across my wetness just before he parted the folds and tasted. He moaned with me, deep and guttural, while moving my legs over his shoulders. He ran his tongue across my clit, teasing me, then pushed into me, spreading me open with his fingers for a deeper taste. My hips rocked into him while I tried to remember how to breathe.

His thumb pressed against my clit, but didn't move. My hips did, and his soft laugh frustrated me even more than the cuffs. He pushed fingers into me with aching slowness, thumb pulsating pressure on my clit, barely moving, and always moving away from my arching hips. His fingers moved in me, setting a pace that my body nearly begged to follow. I could feel myself tensing, nearing the crest, and then he stopped.

"You could untie me, you know." I ached to touch him. "Please."

He grunted unintelligibly as he rolled out of bed. The sound of a zipper preceded the removal of his clothing. 

"Maybe. But not yet." He said. His thighs, again, straddled me, but this time across my chest. The silken skin of his cock brushed against my cheek. I turned my head slightly, carefully catching him with my tongue and slowly swallowing his length. He gently cupped one side of my face in his hand, thumb stroking across my cheek with tenderness.

I swirled my tongue beneath the head of his cock as he slowly thrust into my mouth, wetting his shaft with each movement. His scent filled my senses. I strained against my restraints, yearning to wrap my fingers around his erection, to wrap my arms around his waist. 

He pulled back, nearly out of my mouth, and whispered, "How much can you take?"

I took a breath before he slowly slid back into me, relaxing my throat, coaxing him deeper, until my position caused him to reach the back of my throat. I moaned intentionally, this time, a deep hum that sent him shuddering. I ran my tongue along his length as he pulled out of my mouth. He moved down the length of my body, pressing himself against me, hips moving to align with my own. 

He spread my legs with a knee, flicked his tongue across a nipple, and I felt the head of his cock brush against my pussy. I wrapped a leg around his, pressing my hips upward, wanting, needing him to fill me. His lips hovered over mine before he took me. He entered me with a false slowness, pushing into my wetness, capturing the relieved gasp that left my lips with his own.

My legs wrapped around his waist as I fell into his rhythm, clinging to him as best I could. A sheen of sweat began to cover my body as he pumped into me.

"Please, take them off?" I asked. "I need..." I gasped as he pulled out of me and then slowly slid back into me.

"You need what?" He whispered hoarsely. He slowed again, lifting himself off of me, and then slowly pressed the head of his cock into me, shallowly penetrating, lifting away from my writhing body, somehow managing to maintain control. 

"Take off the cuffs." My hips thrust and legs tightened in desperation as he continued to tease me. "Please."

He fell into my body, scrapping his teeth against my neck while he fumbled to remove the restraints. As soon as he freed me I ran both hands through his hair, slightly pulling his head back so I could bite his neck and taste the sweat building on his body, and finally pulled off my blindfold.

I pushed against him, and he rolled us, legs tangled together, so that I was on top of him. Tucking my knees up to either side of him, I laced my fingers through his hands and pushed his arms above his head, pinning his hands. I arched my back and found his cock bobbing between us. Paying him back for his teasing, I slowly pressed his cock against my warmth, sliding him between my folds. Once. Twice. Again. He growled, eyes closed. I smiled at the change in power.

I released his hands and slid down his body, cupping his testicles in one, while taking his shaft in the other. I ran the tip of my tongue on the underside of his cock from base to tip. Once. Twice. Then slowly swallowed, rubbing my tongue across the smooth skin, listening to him groan. His hands brushed my hair away from my face. I looked up at him at I began to bob on his cock, meeting his eyes. Wrapping my fingers around him, I stroked him in time with my lips. His hips jerked, hands clenched at the sheets. I stopped as suddenly as he had done to me.

Thighs on either side of his, I pushed him into me feeling his hardness inside of me. His hands moved to my hips, pulling me down onto him, thumbs pressing into my sides. He ground me against him, forcing me to ride him hard while rubbing my clit against him. The pressure built, and I felt myself begin to clench around him... so close. He leaned up and caught a nipple in his mouth, running his tongue over it, and my orgasm began to rise.

He rolled me onto my back and hooked my legs over his shoulders. Our eyes locked as he entered me with one movement. He moved with full thrusts that drove hard and deep and I felt a deep blush rising across my body as he drove me higher.

Moving my hand to his lips I pushed a finger into his mouth and watched him lick it. Then, smiling, I moved my now wet fingers to my clit. His eyes followed my hand, lids shadowing, breath deepening. I squirmed beneath both him and my own fingers.

His movements became deeper, his breath began to staccato, and I felt his balls slapping against my ass as I peeked. My cunt pulsed around him and I cried out at the intensity of my orgasm, as I clung to him. I felt him cum at the same moment that he let out a shout, and I dropped my legs to pull him deep, wrapping myself around him and riding his climax out, wave after wave.

He collapsed on top of me, careful not to crush me, and wrapped me in his arms while we tried to remember how to breathe.

"Tomorrow night's my turn, right?" I asked between pants.

"Tomorrow night, yes." He said. "But first let's finish with tonight." 

I smiled as he turned off the light and wrapped himself around me.



Waiting



As Jill soaked in the steamy bubble bath, melting away the effects of another long work week, her mind drifted, anticipating Trevor's arrival home that night. God, but she needed fucked. They'd been married 8 months, and it was beginning to feel that long since she'd seen him, let alone had the pleasure of his big cock inside of her. In reality, it had been just over a week, but that still seemed an eternity to Jill, who would gladly have sex every day given the chance. That chance, however, hadn't often presented itself of late. While Jill worked a standard 9 to 5 as a clerk at the local travel agency, Trevor worked the swing shift at a factory, courtesy of the promotion to supervisor he'd accepted just before the wedding, and with peak season underway, he'd also been putting in plenty of overtime. While neither of them were thrilled with the new hours, they couldn't afford to pass up the extra pay, especially since he'd insisted she quit her second job at the dress boutique. "No wife of mine is going to have to work two jobs" he'd said. Plus, they were saving for a house. Preferably away from the city, but at this point, anything with its own roof would do. Their apartment was nice enough, but they were more than tired of worrying the ceiling might cave in when the teenage Thompson boys upstairs wrestled, wondering whether the Burfields below felt the same about them, and having their TV drowned out by the incessant shouts of the Millers arguing on one side of them (could they just split already?) and the endless inane telephone conversations of Bethany Carson and her mother (at least one of which was clearly insane) on the other. Not to mention, Jill could be quite a loud lover and always felt self-conscious and stifled in trying to keep this not equally well-known to those same annoying neighbors. 

Closing her eyes, she sunk down further and languidly ran a hand over her body as she began to imagine the things she and Trevor would do when he got home. Maybe she'd even surprise him by putting that gorgeous cock of his down her throat. Although she enjoyed sex, a lot, she wasn't very experimental. She loved having her pussy eaten (who doesn't?), but never cared for giving blowjobs, and she wasn't about to try anal (certainly not with her new husband's giant dick). Still, when she did give him the pleasure of putting it in her mouth, she liked to challenge herself to see how far down she could take it, and as horny as she was now, she thought she just may pull off the impossible and deep throat the whole damn thing.

The sound of her phone chirping on her nightstand shook her from her reverie. He must be on his way, she thought, and pulled herself from the tub. Wrapping a towel around her lithe body, she headed toward the sink. She quickly brushed her teeth and rinsed with mouthwash, then ran her tongue seductively across her teeth to feel their smoothness. She knew her perfect smile was the thing that had attracted Trevor to her in the first place, and she admired it one more time before applying a small amount of balm to her freshly-shaved pussy and heading to the bedroom to check her message. It was from Trevor, but, disappointingly, did not signal his impending arrival. Apparently one of the 3rd Shift supervisors had called in sick, so Trevor was forced to work a double. 

Jill was beyond frustrated. His text said he was sorry and he missed her, but that wasn't really helpful to getting her laid. She dried off and began to contemplate whether, if guys could get "blue balls," she was beginning to experience "blue clit." Maybe Trevor would still feel up to it when he got home. Not likely after a 16-hour shift, but possible, especially since it had been over a week. And it was the weekend, at least. He was working another OT shift tomorrow, but he'd be off Sunday. Surely their dry spell would end then. She went ahead and slipped into the black camisole and thong she'd laid out in anticipation of tonight's festivities, slipped into bed, flipped on the TV, and tried to push her desires from her mind.   

Nothing on the television appealed to her, though she knew that might simply be due to her now foul mood. There was a new episode of their favorite show recorded, however. She expected to watch it with him that weekend, but, still upset by his taking another extra shift, she was tempted to watch it now just to spite him. Turning to her side, she hit "Play" and set the remote by the bed. 

The show was set a time long ago, when men treated women more as property than people. While this was revolting to such a liberal girl as Jill, they both loved the politics and drama of the show presented and they found the sex scenes, which were frequent and often graphic, exhilarating. Besides, though she'd never admit it, a part of her did find something sexy about the thought of having a man control, even dominate, her.

The opening scene featured the town judge in a brothel, where he was being serviced by two voluptuous women. All three seemed to be enjoying the experience and, as the fire already within her loins raged harder, Jill began to reconsider her plan. Reaching for the remote, she found it had fallen on the floor, which was all the excuse she needed to keep watching. As the action intensified, Jill envied the curves of the two prostitutes on screen. Jill knew she was very attractive, but as a lifelong swimmer, her body was efficiently slender, her toned, athletic build simply not affording her tits that extra mass that would've made the guys stop to stare. As she pondered this, she realized her hand had absentmindedly wandered down to her own chest, and her nipples, prompted by her light touch and the visuals from the TV, were beginning to harden. Though they weren't big, barely managing to fill her B-cup bras, her breasts were extremely sensitive and for that Jill was grateful. When Trevor stroked and pulled on her nipples just right, he could have her on the brink of orgasm before ever getting her pants off.

Knowing she had a good 8 hours before he would be home, and that even then he'd probably be too worn out to pleasure her, Jill decided she needed to take matters into her own hands. This was unusual for her, because she rarely touched herself. Not that she had anything against it. She just much preferred the feel of a cock inside her and, even before Trevor had entered the picture, she'd never lacked attention from the guys, so getting laid was much more the usual route to her orgasms. She got out of bed, turned off the TV (she hated the distraction-even when she and Trevor watched porn to warm up, she insisted on turning it off before getting down to business), and retrieved a fresh towel from the linen closet. She did turn on some music, in case any audio camouflage might be needed. 

Returning to bed, she slipped under the covers and resumed lightly rubbing her breasts. Her sensitive nipples were already straining at the satiny fabric, the protrusions seemingly seeking even greater attention from their owner. Jill quickly obliged, using her right hand to maneuver her right tit out of her top, while her left hand continued to tenderly massage her left one through the cami. Pinching her right nipple between her thumb and index finger, Jill rolled the nub between them a few times, then gently pulled it, extending it as far as she could. This sent butterflies throughout her body, and she inadvertently let a small groan of satisfaction escape her. She silently admonished herself to be careful, then continued the manipulation of her right nipple, alternately twisting and pulling it while still squeezing her left breast. The stiffness she was feeling on that side told her that it was seeking the same attention, so she slipped the cami over her head and began to work diligently on both nipples, their extreme tautness attesting to the fact that she had worked herself into an almost instantaneous frenzy, and she had no doubt that, were she to continue like this, she could easily orgasm before long. In her sex-starved state, however, she was looking for something more before release. 

Pulling her knees up and parting her legs slightly, she trailed her left hand from her breasts, down her tight abs, and lightly over her navel before settling over her mound. She rubbed her hand over it, very lightly at first, then with more pressure, enjoying the friction her lacy panties created against her. Soon, however, she found this minimal contact insufficient and brought her hand back up to her waistband, slipping it inside in search of her precious opening. She thrilled at the feel of her bare skin and this feeling only increased when her finger grazed her clit. Easy, she thought to herself. She was pretty sure this had already been her most intense solo experience (on those rare occasions when she'd masturbated, the goal was normally a quick get off, so she would start right in on her clit and keep her attentions focused there until she climaxed) and she wasn't ready for it to end anytime soon. 

Deciding her panties were a hindrance, she slid them off and cast them to the floor. While her legs were up in the air, she decided to admire them a bit. Long, lean, and sporting the slightest bronze of early summer tan, there wasn't a guy she'd been with that hadn't loved having them wrapped around him and, with a sly smile, she admitted to herself that she could see why. They weren't her focus, though, so she didn't waste much time running her hands back down them before seeking out her primary target.

Returning her left hand to her pussy, she cupped the smooth mound and applied medium pressure above her clit with her palm, while strumming her fingers across her lips. She could feel how wet she was already and decided to investigate further. Spreading her index and middle fingers apart, she rubbed the outer lips on either side. Enjoying the feel of that, she went further, putting her fingers back together and rubbing the lips. Going further still, she began to pull at her pussy lips. This drove her nearly as wild as pulling her nipples had and she suddenly became very anxious to work her clit. Switching to her right hand, she used her index and middle fingers to begin rubbing her hood. She again moaned out loud, scolding herself again to be careful, although she was sure it couldn't have been heard over the music. Her clit emerged from the hood, seeking direct attention, and Jill's fingers eagerly gave it, sending her to even greater heights. She was torn on what to do next. She was eager for a powerful orgasm to put her horniness to rest and the fire in her belly told her she was on the verge of just that. Still, she wanted, no, needed, fucked. Craving to be filled, she plunged two fingers of her left hand inside her cleft and began fucking them in and out of herself in time with the rubbing of her clit by her right hand. That was better, but still no comparison to the pounding of Trevor's fat dick. Hoping to bridge the gap, she added a third finger to the mix, eliciting another lusty moan, this one a bit louder than either of the first two. Again, however, the relief provided was only temporary, and Jill found herself hungry for more. She was beginning to be out of her element though. She didn't normally finger herself, and no guy had ever put more than three fingers in her. Heck, with his large hands, Trevor had never been able to get more than two in. Figuring hers were pretty thin, though, she decided to try to squeeze in one more. The addition of the fourth finger induced another loud groan. Rather than being mad at herself for that one, however, she smiled wickedly at the lewd realization that she was practically fisting herself. 

Eager to finally experience her long overdue climax, she began rubbing her clit again in steady circles with her right hand. There was just one issue, however. While stuffing the better part of her left hand inside her pussy sated its desire to be filled, movement was awkward, so she was having a difficult time fucking herself the way she had been when she'd only had two fingers penetrating her. 

Still wild with lust, but acknowledging that the earth-shattering orgasm she'd envisioned perhaps wasn't in the cards, Jill somewhat reluctantly withdrew her hand from her sopping pussy and turned her attention back to just her clit, so as not to end this adventure completely unsatisfied. She couldn't recall ever having been so desperate for release, or having missed Trevor so much. She didn't recall his wedding vows including anything about working ungodly hours or making her wait days for sex. 

This fleeting thought of him, and the wedding, triggered another thought, one that she never would have expected to occur. Her bachelorette party. It was nothing special. Her sister, a few close friends, the standard gags, and way too much to drink, but it was one of the gags that crossed her mind now. Her best friend Nikki had given her an outrageous dildo. "In case it doesn't work out between you and Trevor" she teased "this should be enough dick to satisfy even a size queen like you." Jill had never used a toy of any type before, nor was she expecting ever to start, certainly not with this thing, and certainly not when she had Trevor's big, beautiful rod at her disposal. Of course, the realization stung her, that was not the case tonight. But where had she put that thing? 

She hopped back out of bed to investigate. A quick search of her nightstand and closet turned up nothing, and she was in her panty drawer enough to know it wasn't there either. Now glancing around the room, her gaze fell upon Trevor's bureau. She suddenly remembered the last time she'd seen it. While gathering the laundry the weekend following the party, Trevor found it in her overnight bag. "Trying to replace me already?" he'd joked. She found it in his top drawer and quickly got back into bed. 

As she held the dildo, her first sex toy, in her hand, she was both nervous and titillated. It was made from a rubbery, jelly-like material, measured 12 inches long and 2 inches wide, and was ribbed and veined to appear extraordinarily lifelike. Well, save for the bright red color and assuming you had someone in your life that was gifted with such spectacular size. She had to admit that even Trevor's glorious spear probably didn't measure up to this thing. 

Jill wasn't sure how well her pussy would be able to accommodate this new scarlet intruder, even in its current drenched state, so she slowly inserted the tip into her mouth. It had a slight chemical taste that she definitely found off-putting. Under normal circumstances, this likely would've ended the brief experiment with dildos, but she found a week without climax even more off-putting than the taste, so she continued. Mimicking what she would do to Trevor, she began to apply gentle suction to the head. Understanding that the purpose for this artificial blow job was not to give her man pleasure, however, but to sufficiently lube of this monster for her own lascivious use, she quickly worked it further into her mouth. The benefit of this was exponential, as not only did it moisten more of the toy, but the deeper oral penetration stimulated more saliva, which in turn made the dildo even slicker. Maybe by practicing on this, I could get good enough to deep throat Trevor. Boy, would he be pleasantly surprised by that! she thought. Again, though, tonight's goal was satisfying her starving cunt, which wasn't going to happen as long as this thing was in her mouth. Satisfied that she had several inches of the toy sufficiently lubricated, she withdrew it from her mouth and laid back in preparation for the main event.

She held the shaft with her left hand and used her right to place the tip at her hungry opening. She guided it between her wet folds and began to insert it, slowly. She thought she might faint as she felt the head firmly push her open. This was exactly (well, almost exactly) what she'd craved and she recognized immediately that this joke gift was going to give her the most serious orgasm of her life. She continued steadily as she felt the shaft enter her, and marveled at the feeling she got from her tight fuckhole gripping it as it opened her up inch by inch. She easily accommodated the first seven inches and had to slow only slightly to get the 8th and 9th inside. After all, she was used to fucking Trevor (or had been before this God-forsaken week) and he measured 9 inches easily. Not to mention, despite the interruptions and frustrations, her solo festivities to this point had her more than primed. 

Comfortable that she'd now matched what Trevor would be giving her, she decided giving it to herself would be a good next step before proceeding to take more of it inside. She began thrusting it in and out of herself. She started slowly, to get used to both the feel of a fake penis and the machinations of having to insert it herself, but she quickly found a steady rhythm, sawing 6-8 inches of the toy in and out of herself with each stroke. The width gave Jill a gratified feeling, even on the shorter strokes, and she soon began to pant and moan. 

Satisfied she had the swing of it, and with the sight of this foot-long red beast now glistening with the copious juices oozing from her sex turning her on even more, Jill decided to up the stakes. She decided to completely withdraw the toy on each backstroke before plunging it back in, so she could feel her entire pussy stretched back open with each thrust. Over and over she felt her cleft pierced with hammer force as her new best friend tried to nestle deeper into her folds and she imagined she could feel every contour and vein as her honeypot squeezed down on it in an effort to keep it from escaping her again. 

Knowing her pussy now flowed like a faucet, Jill determined to fill herself even further. With another loud groan that she now ignored, she sunk the toy in deeper than it had been previously, and probably deeper than any man had penetrated her either. Once enough of what had been virgin territory was pried open that she was forced to an abrupt stop, she looked down at her hairless sex and saw that less than two inches of the toy remained outside her. She waited another brief moment, then, still holding the base of the toy firmly in her left hand, began rubbing her clit again with her right hand. This started her juices frothing again in no time, and she immediately forced another inch of toy inside herself. After taking another moment to adjust to a new unfamiliar level of fullness, she felt comfortable enough to again begin thrusting. Now feverishly bucking her hips as she fucked herself with 9-10 inches of the toy, Jill knew the climax she'd wantonly sought would be forthcoming soon. 

Paradoxically, though, now that it was so close, she wished it wasn't. She was enjoying the action too much to want it to end. Plus, she now wanted to see if she could take all 12 inches of the red demon. She slowed her ministrations on her clit and began to focus on just the insertion. She didn't think she could afford to withdraw completely now, for fear her fuckhole would vacuum shut, but she continued thrusting, hard, pulling as far out out as she dared and pushing it a little deeper with each turn. Whereas before she took the toy down by inches, it now seemed that the extra penetration was happening millimeter by agonizing millimeter. Finally, she felt her fingertips graze her lips and knew she must have the entire length inside her. She thrust her hips up so she could see herself in her vanity at the foot of the bed. The sight of her bald pussy leaking creamy juices on either side of the 12 inches of dildo splitting her open like never before was too much to take, and she knew she had to bring the session to an end.

Redoubling her efforts on her clit, Jill drew the toy back one last time until it nearly slipped out, then slammed it all the way back home in one forceful stroke, pushing her over the edge. She cried out without reservation as the first crest of her orgasm approached, didn't let up even as the second, third and fourth hit her, and continued moaning lustily as the fifth and sixth waves finished her off. I should've known better than to think I could keep quiet, she thought, it's been so long since I've come. Especially that hard, she chuckled to herself. With that, she licked her juices from the toy, wiped herself down with the towel and rolled over to go to sleep. After all, Trevor would be home in a few hours. 



Waiting!



Daddy had messaged me to say that he'd be home at 6:30 and that I was to prepare myself for his pleasure. My heart quickened as I read his text. Tonight I was going to be Daddy's and it's my desire to please him; as usual, and in doing so, I knew that by the end of the night I would be just as loved and sated. 

How Daddy would get me to that point I didn't know, but from experience he would take me down one of the many paths he can so easily create that results in each of us reaching the last stanza of the symphony at the same time, crashing like cymbals into one another, our souls vibrating like the strings of a cello; deep vibrations pulsing through each of our beings as we took one another to the edge of the stage before crashing over into the pit.

I started my preparations with a Jasmine bath and as I ran the bath I mixed 10 drops of pure Jasmine oil with milk before pouring it gently into the not too hot water. I slipped my chemise off my shoulders and glanced at myself in the floor to ceiling bathroom mirror. 

I smiled at myself, as Daddy said every time he saw me, 'I'd been created by a craftsman'; the long slender length of my body, the long, perfectly proportioned legs, the breasts that stood high and firm on my chest; round, soft and lightly tanned; with nipples that went from buttons to elongated whenever the situation caused the vibrations to start in my core and permeate to my extremities and all places in between. 

My mane of auburn hair cascaded around my face and tumbled over my shoulders before caressing my breasts in a sensuous collection of curls and ringlets that meant that my nipples played peekaboo with the audience; if I had one.

My smooth, hairless mons and cleft, exposed and laid bare my centre to Daddy both visually and tactilely. His eyes can feast on me at their leisure and his hands and cock can touch, caress and enter at will.

As I indulged my self-centred enjoyment of my body, I slowly turned and swung my leg over the side of the bath, feeling my lips part slightly as the action spread my labia. My hands went to the cool, smooth porcelain of the edge of the bath as I swung my other leg over and gently lowered my body into the welcoming, fragrant warmth and wetness of the bath. Later, I hoped to welcome Daddy into my own warmth and wetness so that he could enjoy the welcoming confines of my cunt, his cunt, as firstly his fingers spread and readied me, before his turgid shaft of steel would spread and fill me. 

I could feel the pulse in my throat start to hammer at the thought of him spreading and filling me to the point where for me, nothing else existed in the world apart from the sensations that emanated out from my core. Being stimulated to the point where our minds, bodies and souls merged; my body became his and I became an extension of his cock. I closed my eyes and savoured the warmth and scent of the Jasmine. The water felt so intimate as it caressed and filled my crevice and swirled gently over my breasts. My nipples extended and hardened, untouched by my hands but caressed by my mind as my thoughts turned to Daddy's entry into the house later this evening.

I lathered my hair, working the shampoo all the way down to the roots. That task completed, I arched back into the water to rinse the suds from the strands as they cascaded back into the water. Next I worked the conditioner through my locks and lay back to enjoy the gentle, sensual movement of the water across my skin.

I lathered my womanhood and ran the razor gently over my mons and across my labia, leaving them silky smooth and glistening and with the early signs of swollen arousal starting to part the lips and reveal the divine soft-pink, silkiness of my depths; Daddy's well.

As the water started to cool, I arched again and rinsed the conditioner from my locks before removing the plug and rising to stand proud and aroused in the bath. Water streamed down my skin, cascading off my breasts and cooling my flesh as the air and the water met to gently remove some of the heat from my skin. I reached for the luxuriant, fluffy, aqua towel on the rack at the end of the bath and wrapped my body in its warm, soothing texture. I took a smaller one and turbaned my hair and gently stepped from the bath. I slid the towel over my body to absorb the moisture and return a snugness to my being; warm, clean, Jasmine-scented and slightly aroused.

I took in my curves, the pigmentation of my aureoles and nipples and the plumpness of my cleft. I raised my hands and cupped my breasts. Ever since they started to develop at the tender age of 14, I've loved the feel of my breasts. The smooth curves, the pliant, malleability of the flesh itself and the sensitiveness of my nipples. 

I love my body. 

I slid the palms of my hands up along the underside of each breast and then lightly across each of my nipples which caused them to peak, harden and send quivers down to my cleft. 

'Fuck that feels so good,' I whispered to myself. I looked at them in the mirror and could see how much that the aureoles had constricted too, the little bumps even more obvious in arousal. 

'Hurry home Daddy.' 

I removed the turban and tossed my mane to and fro and ran my fingers through it to loosen the curling tresses. I took the drier and started to remove the dampness so that the hair became soft and springy, framing my face and tumbling across my shoulders and down my back. 

The tresses shone as they dried and framed my face. 'Up or down?' 'Hmmm.' 'Up I think, you like it that way.' Not that it will stay up for long once you gets your hands on me.

Time to sheen my body. I reached for the Jasmine-scented lotion that you bought me and squeezed a copious amount across the top of my breasts. I then used the tips of my fingers to spread the lotion across my breasts and down my torso. The coolness of the lotion fighting with the heat of my flesh. 

'Oooo, so nice,' I sighed and my body shivered in the delight of my touch. My desire was building touch by touch. 

I proceeded to smooth the lotion into my skin, working down from my neck, across my breasts and down my abdomen. I then squeezed a nice amount into my palm, rubbed it into both hands and then sat on the edge of the bath, spread my legs and started to spread it along my thighs and into my cleft. 

My stomach clenched as my fingers touched the hyper-sensitive, swelling folds of my sex. I was aching to touch myself properly but I want to save that for you. 

You definitely wouldn't be pleased if you knew I'd indulged myself to the point of climax before you got home. I knew it would be worth the wait. Cumming together was always so much better than cumming alone. 

I took some more lotion and did my calves and feet before covering my arms and coating them with the sweet smelling lotion. I stood and indulged myself again. My body had a lovely sheen. I'm sure you'll like it, you always do. 

These preparations always get me turned on. The touching, the anticipation about what's going to happen, the expectations; will you be rough or gentle, dominant or loving, take me then and there or fuck me all over the house; standing up, over the couch, against the wall, on the table? 

I'm getting sopping just thinking about it. You're everything a girl desires. Virile, strong, loving, caring, generous, possessive, lots of stamina and a cock to die for. I have no regrets about giving myself to you; totally.

'Wow!' I think I'm ready. I can feel I'm ready because my cream is seeping out of my slit and starting to trickle down my thighs. I reach down and wipe upwards with my fingers and capture the silky, viscous lubricant. I bring my hand up and spread my fingers and the fluid creates strands between my fingers. 'What magic stuff a woman's juice is,' I ponder. Amazing properties, designed purely to ease the penetration of a cunt by a cock. Daddy's going to go in so easily tonight. 

I bring my fingers to my mouth and suck on my slick fingers. 

'Oh fuck,' I love the taste of my juice. So soft, creamy and just plain yummy. 

I have to stop this or I'll come. I'm so wet and swollen and a gentle vibration is running through me knowing that tonight I'll eventually fall asleep, sated, loved and cared for. The journey will be unpredictable, but the last stanza will be unbridled joy.

I check the time and raise my eyebrow. I better get in position, you'll be home at any moment. I take one more look at myself before heading for the front of the house, grabbing my submissive knee mat on the way. 

I place it on the floor where you'll see me as soon as you enter and kneel; my bare buttocks resting on my heels, my knees spread, back straight, eyes cast down and palms turned upwards on my thighs. 

I take a deep breath, 'relax babe.' 'Let the tension go.' Every cell of my body and mind focuses and waits, but the tension, the anticipation doesn't go away.

I hear the car come into the driveway and soon the sound of the door opening and closing. The sound of leather on gravel reaches my ears followed by the tread of a male on the timber porch. A key enters the lock, the latch turns and the door swings open. 'Daddy!' my mind screams. 

I daren't look up but I imagine you're still in the suit you left in this morning; but with the coat unbuttoned, the vest in place, the collar of your shirt unbuttoned and the crimson tie loosened from around your neck. The charcoal suit contrasting with and enhancing your complexion. 

'You look so fucking hot in a suit.' Every time I see you in one, I fill with lust.

You close the door and I sense you standing there admiring me. I can feel your eyes patrolling my body with radar-like intensity. I close my eyes and bathe in the joy that your gaze creates in me. You looking at me with your adoring, deep, brown pools. Those beautiful eyes scanning me from top to toe. Enjoying the sensuous, voluptuous curves of my body. 

I'm forever thankful that I'm so adored, treasured and cherished by beautiful you. Many wouldn't understand my unconditional gift of my entirety to you. But your love is limitless, your care always present, your enjoyment paramount; but hand in hand with mine. I had gifted myself to you to use as you wish, safe in the knowledge that you would never do anything to harm me. On the other hand I knew you will continue to push the boundaries of my tolerance to submissive acts that sated not only your needs but took me to new places of pleasure that I'm sure I would never have discovered by myself. 

Daddy had collared me two months after our initial meeting. I loved the feel of the collar; so intimate, so possessive so blatantly confirming of your ownership of me to both myself and those that we met and played with. 

You circled me slowly. I didn't raise my eyes but watched your glossy shoes pass before my eyes. I was so tempted to look up to see if there was a bulge in your trousers. I expected there was, knowing how much you adore coming home to me presented like this.

You walk away into another room and I hear the sound of a cupboard door opening and closing. 'The toy cupboard?'

You return and stand before me. I can see my distorted reflection in the caps of your shoes. Your hand comes and rests on my chin and exerts gentle pressure to tell me to raise my head. I do; my eyes slowly traversing the length of your body. Up your legs. 

'Yes!' Swollen and so very hard; I can tell. The large bulge in the trousers tells me my preparations have not been in vain. You're definitely turned on. 

The sight of that causes a gentle expulsion of juice from my cleft as my stomach clenches at the sight. My eyes climb up your torso and you're exactly as I had imagined; tie loosened, collar undone and looking as sexy as fuck.

A slight smile creases your cheeks as you gaze down on me. You nod slightly to show your approval. One hand stays on my chin but the other's behind your back. 

'What had you retrieved from the cupboard?' 

My mind sifts through the options like a sorting machine. My mouth starts to dry up in anticipation of what tonight may hold. My heart's pounding in my chest. I'm sure my breasts are bouncing in rhythm with the thudding of my heart. I strain to get an angle that would give me a clue as to what tool of pleasure I'm going to be on the receiving end of tonight?

You look uncomfortable. I can't wait to ease that discomfort. So hard and you haven't even touched me. You're so visually stimulated that I know that your underwear will be sporting a growing dark patch as your cock oozes pre-cum from its slit. 

You're feasting on my completely hairless body. Smooth. Silky. Lotioned. Open for exploitation and pleasure; your pleasure which would in turn result in me tumbling into a vat of sensual arousal and release.

I see that your eyes drop to my cleft and I can feel my flower opening. The petals spreading in the early morning sunshine created by your wanton gaze. Your face darkens with arousal; your lips pressed together as you fight the urge to take me there and then. 

To see such desire for me right before my eyes causes drops of moisture to make their way from my centre, gathering at my opening before stretching to the floor beneath me. A continuous flexing strand of juice making its way to pool on the floor beneath my aching cunt. 

I swallow. My mouth dry with trepidation as to what tonight would hold.

You circle me again, your hand trailing from my chin across my cheek to my ear; shiver!

Through my tresses to the other ear; shiver! Back to my other cheek. Your fingers slide across my lips and I part them slightly. You hook your fingers into my mouth and tilt my head up. My body starts shaking uncontrollably. Goose bumps race across my skin. My skin reacting to the impending engagement with you. 

'Now Daddy!' 'Take me.' 'I can't wait,' my mind gasps. 

My slit's dripping copiously now. All these vibrations end up in my core and I can feel my clit is swollen and pulsing, my labia blooming. 

'I need to cum and I needed to cum now.'

Possession, I love being the object of your possession. At this point I'll give you anything.

You bring your hand into view and my eyes widen and a violent shudder runs through me. 

'The crop!'

My breaths shorten. I feel a flush of arousal suffuse my cheeks before bleeding literally, down my neck, across my upper chest before surging a like a red tidal wave across my breasts. I feel the tightness in my nipples as they pucker and peak in anticipation. The aureolas crinkling and compressing to half their normal diameter. A slow, deep throbbing surged through my cunt causing another expulsion of silky, creamy lubricant. 

'Fuck, I don't think I could stand,' if I tried. My legs feel like jelly. 

A smile spreads across your face. You can see that I am very ready for tonight. 

'Swish!' 

An expert flick of the wrist sends the crop speeding through the air. A whimper escapes my lips and my body shudders from top to toe. 

'Swish! Shudder!' 

'Swish! Shudder!'

A blur of leather rips back and forth before my eyes, slicing the air with a powerful 'swish'. Will the pain morph to pleasure?

A change of tempo. You reach out the crop and trail it across my left nipple. It hardens painfully, my body trembling in a sensual fever, beneath your touch. Yet ripples of pleasure surge down to my clit. 

You do the same to the right nipple. It's tight and peeked; painfully so, before you even touch it. 

'Tap, tap, tap,' on my left nipple. 

'Tap, tap, tap,' on my right nipple. 

Gentle but penetrating flicks, because the impact is felt in my loins. My abdomen and core clench with each tap. A staccato rhythm of tap, tap, tap on alternating breasts.

The pulse in my clit's now in rhythm with the beat of the crop on my nipples. 

'Fuck Daddy, I'm on fire.' 'Do it!' 'Do it NOW!'

My face is perspiring from the sexual energy that surges through me. My brow and upper lip are beaded. A rivulet run between my breasts.

The tapping stops. 

'Princess, it's time to eat.'

'Fuck! So close yet so far.' 'Sheeeeee!'

Daddy leaves the room and I hear a cupboard door open, and close shortly after. I raise my eyes, wondering, 'What's next?' 

The footsteps head my way and Daddy stands before me, a silken cord swinging from his hand. The soft crimson cord looks like it's intended for me. 

'Hands behind your back Princess.'

I quickly obey; to delay is foolhardy. I've learnt that the hard way. 

Daddy walks behind me and quickly lashes my wrists together, firmly, but not too tight, but definitely restraining. 'Good girl.' 'Now you've made quite a mess on the floor beneath you. Before we have our meal, I want that cleaned up.' 

With that, you turn and head to the dining room. 

I manoeuvre my body by walking on my knees to get a better view of my task. My eyebrows raise when I see the pool of girl cream that's puddled on the floor beneath me. I look between my parted thighs and I can see a strand dangling from my lips, stretching like a bungy rope towards the floor and then retreating. Oscillating up and down, held together by the viscosity of my cream. I turn and look at the pool on the floor; a creamy meniscus of girl goo. 

'Thank goodness I put my hair up,' I thought as I bent to lick the syrup up. 

My tongue snakes out and laps it into my mouth. The sweet tang making me quiver. I work my way around it in a circle, gradually shrinking the diameter of the pond until it's all back where it all began. My back ached from the position you've put me in but I slowly straighten in the knowledge that you'll be pleased with me and my reward won't be far away.

I struggle to my feet, my legs trembling, heart thumping and head towards the dining room.

Time to feed Daddy.



Waiting All Along



"What are you doing here?"

"What do you think?"

"Just get you shit and get out!" He hissed

"Gladly!" 

And that was the last thing she said to him before she walked out of his life almost ten years ago. He knew he hurt her, knew he could never forgive her for her dishonesty, but by God ten whole years of the gut wrenching agony of being away from her, of thinking his trust was misplaced only to find that it was all a sickening lie. He could have been happy, could have had a family by now, could have had it all. Now he had no one to trust, just as it had been when he made her leave. What was he to do now? Surely after ten years she would have gone on with her life, had a career, had her husband one that loved and treated her with trust and placed her above all else, God she must have a million kids by now. He always knew that she wanted a big family and the family dog. She wanted it all, and he'd been so sure that he was going to be the one to give it to her. But the years have made him bitter without her, as much as he hoped she was happy and loved, he hoped the she was in despair and dread just like he was in. 'But that was selfish, she had already gone through this all because of me. Shit! I should have listened.'

"Happy birthday to you!" they all sung the last line of the song. Grace Miller walked through the crowd of friends young and old and neighbors, making her way to her son holding his birthday cake. Grace stood at 5'5, a beautiful black woman, straight processed hair that went to her shoulders, big brown eyes, flat nose but that only added to her allure and slightly thick lips. Now she wore a plain white shirt and black jeans and a white Nike sneakers, without overdoing it, she looked completely relaxed and at home. She set the cake on the round mahogany table now covered with a white table cloth, young Joshua Miller could not contain his joy as a wide smile spread across his face and his eyes lit with amazement as he gazed on his one foot cake with his name on it. Grace ran a hand through the soft shaggy hair and gently kissed his forehead. "Happy birthday honey" she said to him.

"Hey Josh," Tommy Silverman said, he was Joshua's best friend and lived in the apartment upstairs, an athletic and competitive pair they were, Joshua stood at 4'8 and Tommy at 4'9. Josh was light brown with a gold complexion never in need of a tan, soft curly hair, straight nose, stubborn mouth and green eyes. Tommy was milk white with red curly hair, a crooked nose, thin lips and just about the bluest eyes ever seen, just like the most beautiful summer's day sky. "Can I blow the candles with you?" Tommy asked.

"Yeah Josh!" Greg Wright, the father of another of Josh's friends shouted "blow out those candles cause I can't wait to have a piece of that cake!" they all shouted their agreements.

"Sure Tommy!" Josh replied still goggle eyed, "you can help me blow em out, then we'll see who blows em out faster. Watch us mom!"

'OK hun," Grace said "I'll count you down, ready, seeeeettttttt, go!"

Both boys began blowing as if their lives depended on it, it all ended as quickly as it began, Josh held up his hand victorious.

"I won," he snickered to Tommy "even if I didn't, because it's my birthday!"

"I got you a cool present Josh, wanna open it now or later?" Tommy asked.

Josh looked around and saw everyone eying him and the cake, "You know what, maybe we can wait til later, everyone's really looking at the cake." He confided to Tommy, whose eyes swept the crowd as well and nodded his head in agreement.

Grace stepped in from there and began distributing generous amounts of the cake to the party goers, the party was smooth sailing from there, the kids danced and song out loud to the latest Radio Disney CD, they knew all the Hannah Montana lyrics.

Later that evening after seeing the last parents out, which happened to be Chris and Marcy Silverman, Josh and Grace collapsed in the sofa. 

"Where did the time go, bud?"Grace asked after several moments of silence. "Your nine now, half way to 18 and half way to leaving me alone."

Josh hated when his mom got emotional whenever she thought too far into the future, he knew he'd always be there for his mom and even made up his mind to go to the state university just so he could live at home, but that was years from now, "Oh come on mom, you know I'd never leave you when I'm 18," he rose and bent to kiss her cheeks "instead I'm gonna leave as soon as I hit 16." He whispered then sped off to his room laughing. She threw a pillow to his retreating back, "brat!" she yelled at his back, but he didn't hear. Clean up had to begin now, she told herself and rose to get to it.

"We've found her Mr. Tate." Investigator John O'Neal said to Paul Tate, but said nothing more than that, Paul sat there staring at John, waiting for the expected report, he sat behind his rosewood office desk, his laptop closed, leaning back in his executive chair, the air around him was potent, and you knew you were in the presence of the boss. His blond hair cut layered to frame his face blue eyes cool and calculating and his stubborn mouth set. After moments of silence it was obvious that prompting was needed.

"Well?" he asked impatiently, eager to get the information he desired.

"Well she's changed her first name from Laura to Grace, she has a son with the same last name 'Miller', and she's living in California now." John stated as if he memorized cue cards.

Paul got up and went to his mini cooler and retrieved an Evian bottle inclining his head to John and John shook his head to the unspoken offer of something to drink. Contemplating he began to speak as he walked back to his seat 'Name change, a kid, OK, no husband, no boyfriend?" Paul asked digesting the information.

"No, doesn't have any record of them here, just a few dates but nothing solid, the last report is that her son celebrated his ninth birthday a couple weeks ago" John replied, but this had Paul coughing and gasping for air as the water he swallowed went down the wrong pipe.

"Nine years old? Are you sure?"

"Yeah I'm sure, from what I gathered it was the nicest little party," he began taking his voice a bit lower and softening his deep baritone as if speaking to the children themselves, "she had it in her apartment, all the kids in the neighborhood went and the music was good and she made them some Jamaican style food, I heard the kids talked about it for days on end."

"Did you get any pictures, John?"

"Of the party? No, but I know the party store that they bought this great one foot..."

"Not the damn party John, the kid, do you have photos?"

"The kid is Joshua, Paul and no I haven't got any pictures"

"Why the hell did I hire you if you can't get basic information!" Paul erupted.

"There's two things wrongs with that statement Pauly partner" John stated, calling him the nickname he knew Paul hated, "one I'm not on your stinking payroll and two, you wanted me to find out where she is and I did, so quit acting up on me!" he continued coolly watching Paul get his temper back under control.

"I'm sorry bro, it's just that at every turn I feel confused and betrayed and I know I shouldn't take it out on you cause you've done nothing but help, look I'm really sorry about that and I'm really thankful for your help here." Paul leaned over his desk and apologized, he realized that he'd have to get used to doing it a lot if he chose to pursue this. "But think of this John, she left almost 10 years ago and her son is now 9, since I know now that she was faithful only to me, then there's a huge possibility that Joshua could be my son."

"Yeah, I thought about that too when I found out last night and I'm waiting for information to get back to me about the birth certificate, which I'm expecting won't have any name's on there in the father's slot, just like she gave him her last name."

"God, what a fool I was to hang on every word of my family, jeez and they went so far to make it all believable," Paul said, anger and depression evident in his voice, while he gazed out the window looking out at the busy New York street "do you know she cried, begging me to believe her, God she cried," he turned around facing John now, water still in his hand, "and I yelled at her called her a whore, a slut, a gold digger and a whole bunch of other nasty names, I did that. All that time she knew," he paused and took a sip of water because his throat went so dry all of a sudden "she knew she was carrying my child, and she kept it. God I'm such a fool!" he said and collapsed right back into his chair sulked and feeling sorry for himself and his situation. John just sat and stared unsure what words could be used to comfort his friend. Jeez, he thought, how could a family be so cruel?

Paul emerged from the California airport clutching the paper that had her address on it in one hand and a small traveling bag in the other. He was going to try to find her after all this time and what, what would he do when he saw her, apologize? Would she even recognize him? Would she even talk to him? He headed out front to meet the associate that would be picking him up from the airport and take him to his hotel, he tried hard to put any negative reception that could be had out of his mind.

He sat outside her apartment building in his vehicle staring up at her apartment since 6 in the morning, that was an hour and half ago. He knew they were buzzing in her apartment, what wonderful morning rituals was he left out of, he wondered. 7:35 he saw her emerge from her building in a white 2010 Acadia, even though she was behind the wheels he knew then that she hadn't changed a bit and if she had, she was a lot lovelier than before. He switched his car into drive and followed her, had he really been reduced to stalking? Her car pulled over right at the entrance of Monte Clare Prep and the back doors of the car opened and a red haired boy emerged on one side and a boy with gold complexion on the other. Was that his son? He wondered still too far away to see or hear much. The boys started off to the school's gate then turned to the Acadia, the boy he assumed could only be Josh grinned at the red head and walked to the Acadia, and bent at the waist towards the driver's side, the red head them followed suite, then the boys were off obviously engaged in a hearty discussion. 'Oh my, they kissed her goodbye' he thought, remembering when he had access to such simple treasures. 

She drove off; he followed till she drove into the Police Station, 'did she know she was being followed?' He wondered 'was that the reason she pulled into the station' He pulled over just outside the station and watched her alight from the vehicle, legs first, 4 inch heels, 'wow she must be working out' he thought. A black skirt that stopped at the knee but ridden up during the drive to reveal a pair of brown sexy thighs, he watched her yank the skirt down, putting it back in place. Almost as if she forgot something she bent over by the waist, ass stuck out and prominent in the air. She leaned back into the vehicle to retrieve whatever it was that she left. "Holy shit." He muttered to himself telling his dick to behave, he ran a hand over it. He glanced around and realized that he wasn't the only male in the vicinity appreciative of the view and that stirred up a bout of anger. Finally, she retreated holding an insulated cup, briefcase in one hand, cup in the other and ID around her neck she headed towards the building. 'My baby's' he thought and watched her disappear. He needed a strategy.