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Body Language

By: kinkspeak



When the lights are off, there is no talking in the bed. If one were to speak to me, they would be met with either no response or a puzzled expression, the latter of which would be worse for it disrupts the mood.

Instead, when we have sex, I would be able to tell what he was feeling by the vibrations that would transfer from his body to mine. My hand on his throat would tell me the depth of his groans, the more deeper the vibrations, the more he was enjoying himself. My legs around his would let me know if he is excited, be it the tension of his muscles, the speed of his movements or even the range of space between his legs. If he was relaxed, his legs would soften, if he was very aroused, his legs would reflect the hardness of his shaft. 

His breath on my face would also give me clues - much like his legs - relaxed, soft, excited - hard.

But there would be no other communication. No pillow talk, no cursing, no suggestions, no asking if I might like this or if I may please do that for him.

I'm accustomed to this style of lovemaking - when I don't have much choice otherwise, it becomes the norm. But it can be novel for new lovers - sometimes unsettling, other times frustrating but like me, they adapt. They learn to speak more with their bodies. To show me what they wanted by molding mine as if I were a store mannequin, place my hands here, turn my head there, turn my hips more to the left, pose my legs just so. Keep me still if they were too excited by grasping me by the core and stop me in mid-movement. Make me move faster by wrapping their hands around my ass and controlling the tempo of my movements. 

For me, this is how I expected lovemaking to be. All about my body being manipulated.

Until I met my math tutor. He was an impoverished student from Iran who was close to completing his doctorate in mathematics. I hired him to help me navigate through the incomprehensible world of fractional algebra. Although I was majoring in history, I would it would be wise to take math to exercise my grasp of logic. If this, then that. Outline the steps to led to the conclusions, exercise the argument for my premise in a deductive fashion.

One night, when he came over for a tutoring session, he decided to make a traditional Iranian dish with rice, spices and chicken that needed to be simmered for hours. While the pot sat on the stove, we sat at the kitchen table, sparring over my homework assignments. He would explain a concept to me, I would argue his methods, we would throw up our hands in disgust, smoke cigarettes fervently and then try again to find a meeting point of mutual agreement. The aroma of the chicken, spiced with cinnamon and cumin would waft over our heads, weaving itself into the expanding cloud of cigarette smoke.

At some point, just an hour away from the chicken being perfectly cooked, he surprised me by saying that it is easier for me to grasp mathematics, that it comes more naturally for me because unlike him, I did not need to write out the argument that led to the correct answer. We were opposites that way. I could do it in my head but did not know how to write it out on paper. He needed to outline the steps first with pen and paper before he could reach the answers. This revelation dispelled my mounting frustration that was about to explode into a screaming match. I was so stunned that this man, who was just weeks away from completing his doctorate, who had been making a meager living as a professor's assistant, would say he envied my natural grasp of math for I had been limping along in algebra 101.

So stunned in fact that I could only stare at him disbelievingly. He laughed at the expression on my face and gave me a playful slap across my face as if to chastise me for being such a difficult bratty child. Instinctively, I raised my hand to slap him back but he grabbed my wrist in mid-air and gave me a teasing grin as if to say "what are you going to do now?"

At first, I tried to wrench my hand from his grip then brought up my other hand but he grabbed that too so that I was helpless. I paused to think of what to do next and then stepped on his foot. He laughed and wrapped his legs around mine so that I would be completely rendered immobile.

I scowled at him, half seriously while he laughed, waiting to see what I would do next. Pretending to surrender, I relaxed my arms and legs waiting for him to let me go. He loosened his grip slightly, not quite trusting that I had truly given up at which point I tried to once again fight back but he was quick and held me down even more tightly than before. What must have my neighbours downstairs thought, hearing the chairs above them scraping across the floor? Did they think that perhaps I was in danger? And wait a minute, if they did, I must remember to thank them for showing some concern.

On those chairs, he and I sat, wrestling madly, as a way to let out all the anger that had been building up during the tutoring. It was not personal anger, it would be more accurately, pure frustration over our discordant communication. His methods were confusing me, they were so different from what I was being taught to do, I was pissing him off because I dared to question this man who made his living in math.

We wrestled until we were running out of breath, we wrestled until we began to laugh hysterically, draping our arms around each other trying to catch our breath only to collapse into another fit of giggles. Eventually, those fits would dissipate into panting as we tried to catch our breath. It did us a world of good to wrestle like this, far better then launching into an exchange of violent angry words that we wouldn't be able to take back, even in regret.

Then he remembered about the chicken and quickly jumped up to check up on it. Nope, not yet, he said, while turning down the temperature so the dish wouldn't burn and I groaned. The dizzying smell of the chicken that escaped when he lifted the lid made me realize just how hungry I really was. He and I were both very poor students, we had virtually empty apartments, a few sticks of furniture, the bare minimum of dishware. it was the month of February, we were studying in the kitchen because the stove was keeping us from shivering. Food was what kept us from falling into that dangerous place that entrapped many university students during the coldest month of the year. it filled our tummies, gave our brains energy and gave us comfort where we had none.

He turned out at the sound of my complaints and with a wooden spoon, scolded me for being so impatient. I rolled my eyes in response to which he let out a gasp and ran at me. I laughed and this time, it was me who grabbed his wrists. He leaned in until his nose pressed up against mine. Perhaps it was in the heat of the moment, perhaps all the physicality of our interactions had me aroused but I couldnt help but kiss him. It was obvious he was having the same sort of feelings for he did not act surprised but instead kissed me back without delay. While his lips were still on mine, he sat back down on his chair and pulled me in until I was sitting on his lap. In this position, we kissed as if we were desert survivors who just found water for the first time in days. We kissed as if we were trying to get into each other's skin. We kissed as if this was going to be the last time we would ever kiss each other again. 

It was a cold month, the time of year when we would shiver day in and day out, warmth being something that we would find only in the classrooms and in the student pub. It was a need that we had to constantly keep fulfilled to survive. Perhaps that explained the intensity of our embraces, we were each other's source of fire, we were keeping each other alive.

I would have quite gladly made love to him right there on the kitchen floor if it weren't nearly as cold as ice. The floors in my apartment were so cold that I always wore shoes to keep my feet warm when I was not in bed or on the couch buried under layers of salvation army blankets.

I broke away from him long enough to grab his hand and pull him along quickly to my bedroom to the safety of my duveted bed. We jumped in, and undressed each other underneath the duvet, laughing at our cowardice of the cold air. In between stripping off each layer of clothing, we would kiss fervently and hug each other tightly, grateful we were for the valuable warmth our bodies lent each other. I would gasp as his hand, icy cold, reached underneath the ridiculous flap that buttoned to the seat of my red old fashioned long johns and wrapped around my naked ass. He would flinch as my hand, equally cold, reached inside his jeans to find the haven of warmth in his crotch. We were acting out two primal needs, sex and warmth. Once all the clothes were tossed out of the bed, we tightly wrapped ourselves around each other, letting our skin warm each other, and we stayed this way for a while, reveling in the relief from the the daily onslaught of ice, snow and wind we faced from the time we woke up till the time we went to sleep. 

It was pitch black in that bedroom, and he knew I would not be able to lipread him. But being the brilliant man he was, he decided to write on my skin. He would trace the outlines of his words, letter by letter, telling me what he wanted to do to me, what he wanted me to do to him. It was slow going at first. He would write out a letter on my breast, wait for me to repeat it out loud, then move onto the next letter and the next until all the words were spelled out. I quickly learned though, so quickly that he did not need to finish the word before moving onto the next one.

No one had ever done this before, talking to me by writing on my skin. It created a kind of intimacy I never had experienced before. It created a kind of naturalness between us, in such a way that although we were making love for the first time, it was as if we had been lovers for a long time. In between each love bite, he would write on my skin and if I guessed correctly, my hand on his cheek would feel him nodding in confirmation. When he was on top of me and inside of me, his hand would write on my cheek, on the side of my hip all the things that he wanted to tell me. How good it felt to have his cock inside me, how he loved the sounds I was making, the way my hair felt against his skin.

For the first time in my life, I was able to talk with my lover in the dark. 

It was the first and last time that ever happened. 

He was found frozen to death just outside his apartment door a few nights later. He came home late, rather drunk, and passed out just when he inserted his key into his door. That night had been declared the coldest night of the year according to the six o'clock news. It was nowhere near as cold as the shock I first found out. For the rest of that long winter, there was no stove hot enough, no blankets thick enough, and no sweaters woolly to get me warm again.

Body Language



**All the characters in this story are over 18.**

The papers are scattered all over the living room and you are still, absorbed in the sports section and the strains of the Los Angeles Guitar Quintet that fill the sunny room. Sliding from the couch to kneel in front of you, I run the palms of my hands flat up your thighs and rake my nails down, watching your face change as I tug down your cotton boxers and take your cock in my hands. I don't have to stroke you long at all before your cock fills both hands, hot and hard, straining for something more stimulating.

The newspaper drifts from your hands like leaves falling in autumn as I bend my head to take you in my mouth, my hair falling around us like a curtain. It tickles your abs, distracting you momentarily from the soft, insistent sucking. Your lean your head back and settle your hips more firmly into the couch cushion. I circle my tongue lazily around the head, dipping into the slit and lapping up the precum gathering there. Using the flat of my tongue, I make long, broad swipes up and down the shaft before slipping you back into my hot, wet mouth, working lips and tongue up and down.

Your breath is coming faster. Reaching a hand down, you nudge my chin up, disengaging my mouth and tugging on the strap of my tank top. Obeying your wordless command, I pull it off over my head and pull my sleep shorts down over my knees. Leaning in and turning my face up for a kiss, my breasts brush your thighs and balls and you are quick to reach over and mould them around your hard cock and wink at me.

Rising from my knees, I kick the shorts off my ankles and press you back into the couch. Crawling up your body, kissing as I go, I plant a knee on either side of you on the leather couch, pressing my breasts into your chest while I suck on your neck, nibble your ear, writhing against you until you've had enough preliminaries and nudge me up onto my knees so you can guide yourself into my tight, wet channel. I sink slowly down on you, savouring the way you fill me, looking into your eyes.

Grabbing a double handful of ass cheeks, you urge me up and down on you and groan slightly as I tease you, rippling the inside muscles around you. I nuzzle your neck before sticking a hot tongue in your ear. You lean back, pulling away from my probing tongue, to watch your hard, hot cock sliding in and out of me...lifting your hips to drive yourself harder, faster, doubling the tempo. 

Whimpering, I cling to your shoulders as we fuck harder, arching my back I bring your head forward, urging you toward a distended nipple. You close your teeth over my nipple pulling slightly, grinning as I freeze in your grip. Your hands on my hips pull me closer and press down, making me take your hard cock to the hilt. Taking my wrists in your hands, you pull them behind me and anchor them there with one hand and bend your head to lightly bite my breast again. The other hand slaps upward on one cheek and, as I start to ride you again, slowly, you slip your hand between us and press your knuckle on my clit. Moving faster, I am gasping with the increased sensation...your hot breath on my breasts, the hard length of you inside me, your fluttering finger on my clit. I arch my back, partly in passion, partly to ease the ache in my shoulders from having my arms pinned behind me and you suck the proferred nipple deep into your mouth. I clench and shudder and cry out, cumming hard on you, collapsing forward and driving you back into the couch.

Tugging my wrists backwards, you unseat me and, with your hand on my shoulder, guide me down to the carpet between your legs. Releasing my wrists, you brush your hand through my hair and, taking a loose ponytail in your fist, guide your hard, sticky cock into my mouth and fuck my face until you are ready to cum. Pulling out, you spurt long, milky strands onto my breasts, sighing in satisfaction.

Leaning back, spent, you smile down at me as I lean against your knee and suck a fingerful of cum into my mouth. "See?" you say. "I told you Virginia was for lovers."



Body Language



Back when I was about twenty, my old dad said to me, over a beer one day, "A divorced woman is a bit like a used car." I had to ask him what he meant by that, and he clarified by saying, "Just remember, a man gets rid of a used car for a reason." Looking back, I'm not sure if he was just making blokey conversation, or whether he was actually offering me some fatherly advice, but sadly he never lived to see my own wedding day himself, seven years later. He'd been gone two years by then, after we lost him to cancer, but if he had been there to see me tying the knot with Lyndall, I sometimes wonder if he would have reminded me.

Technically, Lyndall wasn't divorced, because she'd never actually been legally married, but she'd been in a de-facto relationship for about six years, so she was the nearest thing to a divorcee. She already had two kids when I met her, so I kind of got a package deal when we got married, with a ready-made family, consisting of a wife and two young girls: Krystal, who was seven, and Karla, who was only four years old.

I've got to say, Lyndall and I were happy for the first few years, or at least I know I was. I grew to love those two girls like they were my very own, and they grew to love me right back. Lyndall and I also tried for another baby, but mid-term, she developed some complications, and she lost him. That's right; we would have had a son, but fate decided otherwise, and the doctors told us that another pregnancy would probably kill her, so I went in for the snip, and had a vasectomy, so there was no chance of that ever happening. We decided it was better for me to get the snip than for Lyndall to get her tubes tied, because her body had been through enough as it was.

I remember, the doctor emphasising that the procedure was permanent, and then asking me if I was prepared to accept that it was irreversible, in case my marriage didn't work out down the track, but I laughed at that, and said, "I'm married to the woman of my dreams, and that's just not gonna happen." How was I to know what the future held?

Looking back, it almost seems that losing the baby was a turning point, but things were never the same after that. Lyndall said she'd sailed through both her pregnancies with the girls, so it must have been something that came from my side. She was bitter for a long time, and I told myself it was hormonal, then when things didn't improve with time, I just tried to ride it out, but I really don't think things were ever the same again. Not that it was all bad times, though. We had long periods, years in fact, when things were really good, and I had my wife and two great kids to come home to, and when the bad times came, I just accepted that this was how life worked.

Those two girls were great. They rarely gave us any grief, and they made our married life so much better. They became very close to me, and often when Lyndall and I argued, they would take my side, not that I needed backup from two young kids, but it just shows the bond that had developed between us. Things got really bad for a period between Lyndall and me, around the time Karla started high school, and as far as Lyndall was concerned, I just couldn't do anything right, but then we kind of got over that, and settled back into normal family routine for the next couple of years. I stuck it out, telling myself that I loved her, and I loved those girls too much to walk out, even though I was sorely tested a few times, but then, when Karla was sixteen, Lyndall got pregnant.

She told me the vasectomy must have failed, but these things can only stay hidden for so long. It turned out she'd been screwing a sleazy little guy called Vinnie for ages, and Vinnie had told her a little white lie, saying he'd had a vasectomy as well. Lyndall had been playing an unwitting game of sexual Russian roulette for months, but unfortunately, Vinnie wasn't really shooting blanks at all, and one must have hit the target.

The pregnancy ended in a miscarriage, and Vinnie disappeared for a while, but once again, Lyndall and I stayed together, for Karla's sake, I told myself, because by this time, Krystal was nineteen, and although she was still living at home with us, she was already working full-time, and was old enough to fend for herself if the marriage broke up.

A year later, Vinnie was back on the scene, and in spite of what he'd done to Lyndall the first time, she got back with him again, and incredibly, she moved out of our place, to move in with him. The night she moved out, two weeks after Karla's seventeenth birthday, things got very ugly at our place.

Lyndall managed to drag up something from every argument we'd had, in thirteen years together, and throw it in my face, and I put Vinnie through our front screen door, although I didn't bother to open it first. Karla finished off the evening's entertainment, by screaming at her mother, "Go and fuck yourself! You're not a mother, you're not even fit to be called one!" and then, adding, "Go and fuck your sleazy little boyfriend, see if we care! We'll be happy without you!" as Vinnie reversed his car out of the driveway, with Lyndall stone-faced in the front seat next to him. Karla hardly ever swore, so her tirade made the whole thing much more disturbing.

That night, the three of us, Karla, Krystal and me, slept in my queen-size bed, the two girls huddled together on one side, crying themselves to sleep, while I lay on the other side of the bed, my anger at the hurt Lyndall had caused my two girls blotting out any pain I felt on my own behalf.

The next day, we got up and started our new lives together, without Lyndall, and in time, we got things going really well. We were a family, a man and his two stepdaughters, we all got on perfectly together, and every day, the girls did things to show me they loved me.

For sisters, Karla and Krystal weren't much alike. Krystal, at twenty, was very much like her mother to look at, being tall, fair-haired and curvy, with a pretty face. She was a looker, with rounded, perky breasts, and a beautifully shaped backside that got a lot of second glances from guys when she walked past. Karla, on the other hand, was more like her father, being tall and slender, with dark hair, and a little darker complexion than Krystal. Both girls had brown eyes, and their mother's mouth, although when I say that, it means their mouths resembled their mother's to look at, and not because of what came out of them.

Karla was about five feet eight inches tall, and was slim built, like her natural father. She wasn't straight up and down like Olive Oyl, but was just slender, with a few modest, girlish curves, just the same. Her boobs were fairly small, but were nice enough in shape, and her bottom, while not the traffic-stopper her sister had been blessed with, was still worth a second look, especially in the cute little denim shorts she liked to wear in summer. Those shorts also used to show off her legs, and while they were still a little on the thin side, they definitely had a nice shape to them.

If Karla wasn't a stunner to look at, she made up for it with a certain amount of style. She was bright, she spoke well, she had a ready wit, nice manners, and rarely swore or used foul language. She didn't smoke, and she was fairly popular at school. All in all, Karla was a really great girl, and I was proud to have helped bring her up this way.

Not long after Karla turned eighteen, she got her first boyfriend. His name was Anthony, and he was two years older than she was. He was a decent enough young guy, and he had a job, dressed respectably and had good manners, so she could have done a lot worse. Nobody needed to tell me that Karla lost her virginity to Anthony, I just knew. It was little things, like their body language, a subtle change in Karla's demeanour, and of course, as homicide detectives often say on TV, Anthony had motive and opportunity. She was still in high school, in her final year, but even as close as we were, with no mother around to handle the issue, I felt a bit strange about talking to her about contraception, so I had a word with Krystal, who had a word with Karla, and then took her to the doctor to get a prescription for the pill. Maybe Mike Brady might have handled it differently, but at least I did something.

Karla and Anthony kind of petered out after a few months, and it wasn't like some traumatic break-up; they just stopped going out together, but remained on good terms, with no fuss or bother. Then, Krystal moved out of our house, to move in with her boyfriend, so by the time Karla was eighteen-and-a-half years old, there were just the two of us living there.

By that stage of my life, things seemed to be going okay. I was forty-one years old, and I'd gotten over losing Lyndall to her sleazebag boyfriend, but although I'd had a couple of brief flings, and one or two one-night stands since she walked out, I didn't have a woman in my life. Karla was in her last year of high school, with a part-time job at McDonalds after school and on weekends, and she was living happily at home with me, and we looked after each other as best we could. All in all, I thought life was pretty good.

About halfway through that year, my niece, Jenna, got married to her fiancé, whose name was Damien. Jenna's father was my elder brother, Frank, and although his four daughters weren't related to my girls by blood, they all considered themselves to be cousins, and they got on famously together. Naturally, Karla, Krystal and I were invited to the wedding, which, ironically, was held in the same church where Lyndall I got married fourteen years earlier.

The wedding was on a Saturday afternoon, with the reception held afterwards, in a function centre, not far from the church. I had given Krystal and Karla my Visa card during the week, to go and buy a new outfit for Karla to wear to the wedding, and I had trusted their judgement in getting her something appropriate, but I hadn't had a chance to see what they had bought for her. Shortly before we were due to leave for the wedding, I called out to her down the corridor towards her bedroom, "You ready?"

Karla stepped from her bedroom, wearing a sleeveless, formal dress that was knee-length, and deep purple in colour, with black lace rim. The neckline showed off some of her modest cleavage, and the dress hugged her slender curves on the way down. She had a silver necklace, with matching earrings, her dark hair was up, and then to top it off, she was wearing black high heels. She rarely wore heels, not that she needed them, and when she stepped out of her room, she walked a bit like a young foal finding its feet. Her air of elegance and sophistication was in contrast with her coltish gait, as she walked down towards me, and I said, "You look, umm," but I paused, to think of an adequate word, and then just settled for, "beautiful."

"Well, don't sound so surprised," Karla said, smiling as she walked up to me. With her heels, she was only about an inch shorter than I was, and she added, "You don't look too bad, yourself," as she looked me up and down.

She gave my suit a quick adjustment, by tugging at the shoulders, and then at the bottom of the jacket, and she stood back for another look, and said, "There, perfect. Watch out ladies, Allan Maxwell's dressed up in his best suit, and he's on the prowl."

"Come on," I said, and Karla linked arms with me as we walked towards the front door. She had only passed her driving test a few months before, after three attempts, and she liked to drive the car every chance she got, so she grabbed the keys from the side table, and said, "Can I drive?" and headed for the driver's door, without waiting for an answer. She took off her heels in the car, and she drove to the church in her stockinged feet, and then as she sat with the driver's door open, putting on her heels again, she looked up at the church, and said to me, "This is where you and Mum got married, isn't it?"

She was only four when I married her mother, and I wasn't sure if she'd remember, but I said, "Yeah," without elaborating, and as she took my arm to walk over to the group of guests waiting outside in the sun, she said, "Happy memories, then." Her tone was ironic.

"I got you and Krystal out of it, so I'm not complaining," I answered, smiling back at her. "We aren't, either," was her reply.

After the wedding, we adjourned to the reception, where Krystal, along with her boyfriend, Dale, Karla, and I were seated near the bridal table. Early in the evening, the deejay played an appropriate song, as Jenna and her new husband did their bridal waltz around the floor. Then, he invited everyone else up to join the happy couple in a slow dance. "Dance with me?" Karla said, giving me a smile. "My pleasure, young lady," I responded.

We got up together, and walked to the floor, and we took hold of each other to join the other couples waltzing around the room, and as I held my pretty, eighteen-year-old stepdaughter in my arms, in her pretty purple dress, with her sweet, stylish perfume, I felt to my embarrassment, that my cock suddenly went rock hard. I shifted my stance slightly, so my erection wouldn't press against her, and after a minute or two of awkward dancing, Karla said, "I'm not made of crystal, you know."

Preoccupied as I was by what was happening in my pants, I didn't understand her properly, and I thought she had said something about her sister, Krystal. I looked over at our table, to where Krystal had been sitting, but she was now on the floor, slow-dancing with Dale. "What are you talking about?" I asked.

"You're holding me like you think I'm gonna break in half," Karla said, speaking low so no-one else would hear, "What's wrong?"

She adjusted her own stance and pulled me in closer to herself, but within only two beats of the music, my hard tool bumped her lower belly through our clothing. "Oh," she said, looking down. I felt hot with shame, and all I could say was, "Sorry. I'm really sorry."

"Now I know why you didn't want to get too close," she smiled, leaning closer, so she could speak quietly.

"Look," I started, "I'm really sorry about that. Do you want to sit down?"

"No!" Karla said, as though sitting down was a totally ridiculous idea, "It's all right. Your body doesn't know who I am," she said, as she calmly adjusted her own pelvis and her own stance, so my horn wasn't touching her.

"But you're my stepdaughter," I said, looking down, still burning with shame.

"So what?" Karla said, breezily, still smiling, still dancing, "It's not like we haven't been properly introduced." Then, she leaned in so our faces were close, as we danced, and added, "Although, I gotta say, I'm a little surprised Mum left you if you had that to bring to the table."

We both giggled explosively, and quite a few people looked around at us. After we had regained our composure, Karla kept eye contact me with me, as though she didn't want to look at anyone else, and said, "I can't believe I said that." At least the laughter and conversation made my erection subside, and we had one more slow dance, before the deejay put on a rap song, and Karla said, "Not your style, is it?" We left the floor to rejoin Krystal and her boyfriend.

"What was so funny out there?" Krystal asked.

"I stepped on Allan's toe," Karla answered, to my relief.

"Heels," I added, to help out.

"I guess you had to be there," Krystal said, looking at us like we were two very odd people.

Later in the evening, I stood with my brother, Frank, and his daughter, Jenna, the radiant new bride, as we watched the couples on the dance floor. There was another slow song playing, and there were only about half a dozen couples dancing to it, including Karla and Krystal, who were slow dancing with each other, doing exaggerated dips and turns, laughing, giggling and generally having a ball together.

"You've done a great job with those two," Frank said, as my two girls paraded across the floor in a parody of the tango, "especially the Little One, all by yourself, since Lyndall fucked off." Frank was a man who didn't mince words, hence his use of the words, "fucked off," and The Little One had been his nickname, and term of endearment, for Karla, ever since he met her, when she was four years old, and so much smaller than her big sister. He still referred to her by that name, even though The Little One was now only a few inches shorter than he was, and Karla herself, who loved him dearly, would still send him birthday cards, signed, "Your loving niece, Karla, a.k.a. The Little One."

"Those two girls love you more than anything, Uncle Allan," Jenna added, but somehow, after what had happened earlier on the dance floor, all this praise for my standing as a stepfather made me feel like some sort of fraud. "I was just lucky," I guess," I answered, as modestly as I could.

In time, the reception ended, and everybody left. There was a feeling of happiness, and hope for the future in the air, as we watched Jenna and Damien leaving the centre in a hired limo, with everyone smiling, hugging each other, promising to keep in touch, and Karla and I were among the last to leave. On the way home, as Karla drove, and I sat in the passenger seat, she said, "Well, Jenna's all married up, now. I guess she and Damien'll be making sweet music together before long." She chuckled, and added, "I guess that's what weddings are all about, you know, romance, love, yada yada yada," and then she added, like it was an afterthought, "making love." She turned to smile at me, like she was waiting for a reply, and then looked back at the road, but I didn't answer. I didn't think I had much to offer on the subject of marriage.

After a moment, Karla went on with, "Come on, Al, I'm trying to get a conversation going over here, but you're not helping much. I'm getting sore gums from flapping them." She only ever called me Al when she was fooling around with me like that, because she knew I preferred being called Allan.

"After my experience with marriage, I don't think I've got much to say about that subject," I said, keeping my tone light, and ending with a smile, so I didn't sound like I was whining.

Karla took one hand off the wheel, and gave my arm a gentle squeeze, and said, "Your marriage gave you two charming, charismatic young stepdaughters, oozing with panache, who love you to pieces. So it wasn't all bad, was it?"

I reached over and gave Karla's arm a squeeze back, and I said, "When you put it that way, I did have pretty successful marriage, didn't I?"

Karla and I arrived home, and we went inside to the family room, where I wasted no time in taking off my tie and jacket. As I stood there, Karla casually put a hand on my shoulder to steady herself while she took off one high heel shoe, then the other, and placed them together beside the couch. I looked around the room, thinking it was too early to go to bed, and Karla said, "Would you like some coffee?"

"Yeah, sounds good," I said, and Karla flicked on the TV with the remote, and she added, "Let's watch the late movie. I'll find a foreign one with subtitles, so we can laugh at it, even if it's not a comedy. I'm not tired, are you?" I shook my head and sat on the end of the three-seater couch, near the right arm.

A few minutes later, Karla came back in from the kitchen, with two mugs of coffee, and set them down on the coffee table. I saw that she had taken off her stockings, but was still wearing that pretty purple dress, along with her earrings and necklace. She really looked beautiful.

Karla and I were very close, and it was not unusual for her to sit right next to me, or to lean against me, even when there was plenty of room on the couch. It was a habit she started as a small child, and had never really grown out of. She sat next to me on the couch, on my left side, and as she so often did, she sat right up against me. I felt the warmth from her girlish, young body through that thin material of her dress for a moment, and then I remembered what had happened on the dance floor, so I shrank back slightly.




Body Language



Karla responded by shuffling her bottom a little, to get closer to me, still looking at the TV screen, and once more, I shrank back a little, as I thought about how ashamed I felt when I got hard at the touch of her body, while we waltzed. Karla turned, smiling at me, smiling, and said, "What?"

"What do you mean?" I said, looking at her.

"You keep shuffling away," Karla said, "like I've got the plague or something."

"No, I'm not," I lied.

Then, a look of realisation came over Karla's face, and she said, "Oh, I know what it is. On the dance floor tonight. You're worried it might happen again."

I looked down, avoiding her gaze. "I don't know what was going on," I mumbled.

"Allan," Karla said, waiting till I looked up, "That's just natural. You were holding onto a girl, and, you know, things just happened." Then, she added, "When it stops happening, that's when you can start worrying." Her smile was a mixture of sweetness and irony.

"Let's not talk about it, okay," I said, trying to get away from the subject. Karla shuffled towards me, smiling mischievously, but I was now up against the right arm of the couch, with nowhere to go. I shrank back as far as I could, but she turned on her bottom as she sat next to me, put her feet up on the other end, and lay down on my lap, so her head was now resting on the right arm of the couch. "See?" she said, smiling up at me, "You can't get away."

"Come on," I said, "Now, you're being silly."

"You're the one being silly," Karla said, still lying across my lap, "carrying on over nothing. So what, you got a horn. Big deal. Guys get 'em all the time." She reached up with her right hand, and touched the left side of my chin, and said, "Actually, it's a bit of a compliment."

"Hey!" I said, gently placing her hand back on her belly with my left hand, "Let's not go there."

"Tell me honestly," Karla said, her voice softer but more serious now, "Have you ever looked at me or Krystal, and thought about it."

"No," I said, seriously.

"We're not related, really," Karla persisted.

"You're my stepdaughters," I said.

"Okay," Karla went on, "But if you forget all about the stepdaughter thing for a moment, and just look at me. Tell me honestly, do you find me attractive?"

"Of course, you're attractive," I answered.

"No," Karla answered, emphatically, "you're not answering the question. Do you find me attractive?"

"Karla, you're my child," I said, and I could hear the exasperation in my own voice.

"I was your child," Karla said, "and you've given me a great life and I'm really happy, but I'm not a child any more. I'm eighteen. That makes me an adult." Her tone changed a little, and she added, "We're both adults. So, I'm just asking you a question. Do you find me attractive?"

"You have to stop this," I said, keeping it serious, "it's not right."

"I'm just asking," Karla went on, undeterred, "Say you never knew me. Say you saw me walking down the street. I'm an eighteen year old girl, and you've never seen me before. You never had a stepdaughter, and you've never seen me before, okay."

I looked at Karla, and I could see this seemed to be important to her, so I said, "Hop up." She looked at me, questioningly, and I said, "Hop up, and stand in front of me. So I can look at you." Karla stood up, a little hesitantly, as though she thought I was trying to trick her, and she stood in front of me. She smiled, as she realised what I was doing. "If I saw you," I started, looking her up and down, "and I didn't know you, had never seen you before, and you were just a random eighteen year old girl, I'd think, 'Yeah, I like that. That's real nice. I like the look of that." I tried to sound like a guy reducing a girl to a sex object.

"Would you sleep with me, though?" Karla asked, getting straight to the point.

"Come on, that's not fair," I smiled up at her.

"Okay," Karla went on, "You're a guy and I'm a random, eighteen year old girl, and you see me in the street. What is it about me that you like the look of?"

I realised that I was beginning to enjoy this little game, and I got off the couch, and said, "I'll stand up, so I get a better perspective." I took a couple of paces back, and I said, "Okay, am I still forty-one?"

Karla was standing there, for my appraisal, smirking at me, and she said, "Yeah, you're a forty-one year old guy, and you've never seen me before, and I'm a random eighteen year old girl. Tell me what it is about me that you like the look of." Then, she added, "As a man. Tell me what thoughts go through your head."

I looked at Karla again, standing there, in that purple dress, dolled up from the reception, but without any shoes, and I tried to think of her as a random girl I didn't know. "Okay," I started, "I'd think, 'She's tall, I like that. Pretty face, and those deep brown eyes don't hurt one bit. Cute mouth, too. Just a hint of a pout. I think I'd like to kiss that mouth." Karla smiled at me, and tilted her head, as though she wanted me to continue.

I had a look at Karla's shape, and went on with, "Nice curves, not exactly hourglass figure, but you can tell she's a girl all right. No problems there at all." I pursed my lips, having a better look, and said, "I've seen bigger boobs in my time," and Karla looked down at hers, and I continued with, "but they are perky, gotta give 'em that." She smiled up at me. "Turn around," I said, motioning with my hand, and Karla turned for me, and I said, "Hmmm, nice arse, I like that arse. And those legs, they'll do me anytime. Pret-ty impressive little package, I'd say."

Karla turned to face me, and said, "So, Allan, after all that, if I was a random girl, and you didn't know me," and she paused, stepping closer, "would you want to have sex with me?"

"I don't have sex with random girls," I said, grinning at her.

"You know what I mean," Karla said, giving her head a shake.

"Why is this so important to you?' I asked.

"Because tonight, your body said something that you won't say yourself," Karla said, and I was surprised at how serious she sounded.

"Karla, that was hormones. You know that," I said, trying to keep it gentle. I loved this girl, this woman, this person who had been part of my life for fourteen years. "Hormones don't have morals," I went on, "and hormones don't drive six year old girls to school one day, and then watch them grow up to be beautiful young women the next. They don't know anything about right and wrong, they just do what they do."

"Okay," I get it, Karla smiled, "I'm a teenager. I know all about hormones. But, just one last thing." She seemed to pause for effect, and said, "I want you to kiss me."

"I've kissed you forty-seven thousand times, Karla," I said, but inside, I knew what she meant. I wasn't stupid.

"One kiss," she said, "One kiss, like a man kisses a woman, just so I can see what it's like with you."

"Come on," I said, "we can't do this." Inside, I realised that if I kissed her, I'd like it, and I'd probably be talked into going further. I knew it.

Karla turned to the coffee table, where there was a pile of small change in an ashtray. She picked up a twenty-cent coin, and said, "I'll toss you for it. Heads, you kiss me, properly. Tails, I'll forget about it." Then, she smiled, and said, "But either way, I'm gonna go to bed tonight, and fantasise that we had sex. That's one thing you can't control."

"And I'll go to bed and fantasise that we tried and I couldn't get it up," I said, grinning at her, "So there."

"Too bad we both know that's a bullshit fantasy," Karla answered back, grinning mischievously, "because I could have squashed a cockroach on that thing you wheeled out on the dance floor." We both laughed.

"Toss the coin," I said, in defeat, after we finished laughing. Maybe it was wrong of me, but I have to admit, in those deep recesses of my mind, I was kind of hoping for a "Heads" result. Maybe putting it in the hands of Fate, in the form of a silver coin with a platypus on it, was my way of absolving myself of responsibility.

Karla flipped the coin and it went up in air, spinning over and over, then down, to hit the carpet, rolling along on its edge, stopping, and falling flat. I felt butterflies, as I stepped forward to see it, lying heads up. Karla looked at me, tilting her head, as if she was wondering if I'd back out now. I looked at the window, and it occurred to me that, outside my house, there was a whole world full of people who would condemn me for what I was about to do. I felt a wave of excitement as I realised that, yes, I was going to kiss Karla, the way a man kisses a woman.

"One kiss," Karla said, "A proper kiss, so I know what it would be like with you."

I swallowed, and I stepped closer, and I took Karla in my arms, holding her warm, pretty, girlish, stylishly dressed, sweet-smelling body close to me, with my arms around her shoulders, and I moistened my lips a little, and I kissed her on the mouth. I kissed her soft, sweet mouth gently, lovingly, holding the kiss, feeling the excitement, as she kissed me back, just slightly open-mouthed, but without any tongue. This was too early for tongue. It was a sweet, sexy and warm kiss, and I held it for as long as I thought proper, and then we broke it mutually. I held her gaze, with our faces close, for a moment, and Karla whispered, "At least I know now." We let go of each other, and Karla said, "Part of me wishes I was a random girl, and we could take that further, but most of me is glad we're the people we are. I'm glad you showed me, anyway, Allan."

"I think it's time for bed," I sighed. Karla nodded, and she said, "Allan, I love you in all kinds of ways." She kissed me again, this time on the cheek, as she had done so many times before, and we went to our own bedrooms. I stripped off, put on my pyjamas, and got into my queen-sized bed, where I lay in the dark, thinking over what had just gone on. I realised I had been tempted, but I hadn't given in, I told myself. After a while, I heard Karla's footsteps on the carpet in the hall outside my room, and although the door was open, she knocked, as she usually did. "What's up?" I asked into the dark.

Karla walked in, and I flicked on my bedside light. She was wearing a pale pink, satin nightdress, that was fairly short, and she came over and lay on the other side of my bed, on top of the covers. This was something she'd done a hundred times over the years, coming in, lying there for a talk, before retiring to her own bedroom, and if not for what had happened earlier, it wouldn't have been significant at all. "I just wanted to talk," she said.

"What about?" I asked, although I had a pretty good idea.

"About tonight," she said, quietly.

"I think we said just about everything," I answered, also speaking quietly.

"I thought about trying to seduce you tonight, Allan," she said, looking up at the ceiling, then at me.

"And I thought about letting you, if it makes you feel any better," I said, "but I'd be taking advantage of you if I did. I can't do that."

"What if we were taking advantage of each other?" she asked.

"I'm not sure if that's possible," I said. It was the best answer I could come up with.

"Allan," Karla asked, getting my attention, making me look at her, "Do you want to make love to me?" She swallowed.

"I've tried to give you honest answers all your life," I said, "and I owe you an honest answer now." I sighed, and said, "Yes, I do. Any man would, but that doesn't mean we can. If we do that, nothing will be the same again."

Karla turned onto her left side, to face me, and she said, "You and I have got a pretty good relationship. I don't think anything could ruin it." She reached over, and put her right palm on my chest, and said, "I want to make love with you, Allan."

I'm only human. A beautiful girl was lying on my bed, asking me to make love with her. Yes, it was Karla, yes she was the girl I had driven to school as a six-year-old, and yes, I had watched her growing up as my stepdaughter, but an hour before, she had asked me to stand there and look at her as a woman, to spell out to her the things I saw about her that were attractive to me as a man, and yes, I should have disengaged myself from the game, but I didn't. I had reached this point by my own actions. "I want to make love to you, too," I said, feeling like I was in a dream.

"So I guess, neither of us is to blame, then," Karla said, as she moved closer to me. As she moved, her nightdress rode up a little, revealing her pink lace panties, and I reached out from under the covers, to pull her nightdress down with my right hand, covering them. Karla looked down at what I had done, then back at me, and she said, "You're very caring." She smiled, and moved in, to kiss me gently on the mouth. The kiss was warm, soft and very exciting, so when Karla broke it, I pulled her to me and returned her kiss, holding it until I was ready to break it. As our mouths parted, she took a breath, and said, "Should I get under the covers?"

"If we're gonna do this properly, I think you'll need to," I said, and Karla slid off the bed, and then climbed under the covers. She snuggled up to me as I lay on my back, and then turned, so her right thigh was across my pelvis, and she gave me another brief, but sweet and soft kiss. My tool had already responded to the intimacy, and we both felt it pushing against her right hip. "Your body's talking to me again," Karla said, with a little smile, "but this time, I think the conversation might be more interesting."

I reached down and adjusted my rigid dick, so it wasn't poking Karla's hip, and I said, "We'll get back to that later. I'd like to spend a little time on this," as I moved my arms around her, to embrace her slender body and hold her closer.

"You mean you don't want to get straight in and do it?" Karla asked, with our faces close.

"Haven't you ever heard of foreplay?" I asked, gently kissing her again.

Karla swallowed, and said, "The only guy I've ever done it with is Anthony, and he thinks foreplay means taking a girl's pants off." Her face was close enough for me to feel her warm breath.

I could feel a very slight smile on my face, as I said, "Karla, that's 'having sex.' I thought you said you wanted to make love."

"You're gonna show me the difference aren't you?" she smiled back.

"I'll try," I said, as I gently turned her onto her back, so I was now lying on my right side, with my arms around her. I kissed her sweet little mouth again, and our tongues ventured forth to tentatively greet each other, as I felt the excitement rising inside me. I broke the kiss, and sat back a little, placing my right forearm under Karla's neck, as she lay on her pillow, and I lifted the covers back from her with my left hand. She looked down at herself, in her pink nightdress, and then back up at me. I could see the shape of her nipples through the material, and I said, "You don't wear a bra to bed, do you?"

"I think I can get away without one a lot of the time," she replied, and I reached over with my left hand and gently stroked her right breast. "That's nice," she said. I took her nipple. through the material, between my thumb and forefinger, and fondled it gently, feeling it grow harder at my touch. Karla bit her lower lip, and smiled at me, saying, "Your touch is very gentle, Allan, but I've always known that. Tonight's a little different, though."

I moved my left hand down to the hem of her nightdress, lifting it a little, and I said, "May I?

"I think you better," Karla said. Her voice was little more than a whisper, and she gently stroked the back of my left hand with her right hand for a moment, and then took it away. I reached up under her nightdress, to find her right breast, and I fondled her nipple between my thumb and finger again, and Karla shuddered first, then she swallowed. "That's kind of tickly, but nice," she said, and with a sweet smile, she added, "I think you should kiss me while you're doing it, though."

I leaned down to kiss her mouth again, feeling her soft, warm lips, tasting the sweetness, basking in the warmth that seemed to flow through me, inhaling her breath, as it seemed to fan the excitement that was welling up inside me. When I broke the kiss, Karla had her eyes shut. She opened them and looked into mine, and said, "You kiss beautifully."

"I was actually thinking the same thing about you," I said, looking at her mouth as I said it. I was still fondling her right breast, under the material, and Karla looked down at what I was doing, and said, "If I took my nightie off, you could see what you're up to."

"Smart thinking," I said, and my excitement momentarily went off the scale at the thought of Karla being naked in front of me. Karla reached down, and lifted the hem of her nightdress, lifting her bottom at the same time, and she pulled it up, exposing her pink lace panties. She lifted her shoulders from the bed, and then pulled the nightie over them, and dropped it on the floor to her right. She was now lying in my bed, with just her lace panties on, and I sat back to look at her, taking in the sight before me for a moment. Looking at Karla like that almost took my breath away.

"I've known you a long time," Karla said, softly, "and the look in your eyes tells me you like what you see."

"Very much," I said, almost whispering, my tone almost reverent. Karla took my left hand, and placed it gently on her belly, just below her navel, and whispered, "We're not here to look at each other, Allan."

"You're just so beautiful to look at, Karla," I said, still looking at her body, from the neck down, those small but perfect tits, their nipples a dark shade of pink, the smooth, flat belly, and the way her panties were following the contours of her pubic mound. I leant down now, to kiss her left breast, and holding the kiss, I took the nipple between my lips, and gently tickled it with my tongue. Karla flinched again, and she took a quick, sharp breath, as I relaxed my tongue, to taste the flesh of her nipple. I felt Karla's arms around me, as she hugged me to herself, while I kissed and tasted her breast, and after I released her nipple from my lips, I moved up again, to kiss her mouth.

The kiss was oh-so exciting, even after what we had done so far, and as Karla relaxed her arms, I sat back a little. She reached up with her right hand, and gently touched my lips with the first finger, then put her finger to her own lips. I decided it was time to move ahead, and I reached down with my left hand, to gently fondle her pussy through the crotch of her panties for a moment, looking at her face for her reaction as I did so.

Karla gave me a very meaningful look, and said, "Allen?"

"Yes," I said, quietly.

"Do you like, umm," swallowing, pausing, "going down on girls?" she asked, hesitantly.

I nodded slowly, smiled, and said, "Of course I do," although the opportunity had not presented itself for a while.

"Do you think," she said, pausing to bite her lower lip, "umm, you'd like to go down on me?"

"Would you like me to?" I asked, answering one question with another.

"No-one's ever done it," she said, "but what you were doing to my boobie with your mouth was kinda special, and I thought maybe it'd be kinda special in other places, too." Her voice was so sweet.

"Have you ever tried it?" I asked, unable to keep the smile from my face.

"Well, Anthony wouldn't do it," she said, "He reckoned girls were kind of, umm, messy, down there, and, um, he wouldn't do it. He, umm, got me to do it to him," pausing, biting that lower lip again, swallowing, "but he wouldn't do it for me."

"That was pretty selfish," I said, as I placed my left hand onto Karla's pussy, so the thumb was on her mound, while the fingers draped down along her crotch. I fondled her gently with my fingers, feeling for her slit from the outside of her panties, looking her in the eyes, and I said, "You're asking me to kiss you down there, aren't you?" and she nodded, but didn't speak.




Body Language



"Where?" I asked, still meeting her gaze, "Take my hand, and show me where you want me to kiss you." I love oral sex, but in the circumstance, I wanted to tease Karla a little, and build up to it, before I allowed myself to taste her in those secret places, that as a stepfather, I had only ever known to be off-limits.

"The exact place?" she asked. I nodded.

Karla reached down with her right hand, and took my left hand in it. She used her own left hand to lift the front of her panties, and she placed my hand inside, where I felt first her soft pubic hair, and the warmth and wetness of her pussy, as she moved my hand to it. "The exact place," I repeated.

I felt Karla's fingers separating mine, finding my first two, and then guiding them in between her inner lips, where it was warm and moist, and she placed them about where I imagined her clit would be. I kind of expected she would want to be kissed there, and I said, "There?" Karla was looking down at herself, down where her hand was guiding mine to that very special place on her body, and she was already breathing a little more heavily than before. "Right there," she said, softly.

I gently probed my finger down between her slippery inner lips, and I took it from her panties, and tasted the sweetish, tangy juice on it, slowly, deliberately, looking at her face, as she studied my own actions, and I said, "I think I'm going to enjoy this." I gently began to remove Karla's panties, and she lifted her bottom to help me. I slid them down her long, slender, but shapely legs, and dropped them on the floor, and I looked down at her exposed pussy, and then at her face.

"You okay?" I asked. As excited as I was at the thought of tasting and exploring this part of Karla's body, I didn't want to make her uncomfortable, and I added, "With me, doing this? It's a very intimate thing."

"I trust you more than any other person in the world," she answered, lying there, "I'm kinda glad you're the first person to do this." I looked back at Karla's exposed pussy again. Her pubic hair was natural, but it seemed to grow in a heart-shaped patch, dark and curly, and I ran the fingers of my right hand through it, feeling its softness, and then gently stroking down the hood of her clit with my thumb, twice.

The lips of her pussy were just a little swollen, a little moist, but showing she still had a little way to go before her arousal was complete. I leant down, conscious of the fact that no man had ever tasted this part of Karla's body, and that fate had accorded to me the privilege of being the first man to explore this beautiful thing with my mouth, lips and tongue. I started by gently inhaling the scent of Karla's young pussy, wafting it back into my nostrils, letting the arousal it triggered, as designed by nature, permeate my consciousness. Then, I kissed Karla, very gently, on the beautifully soft, smooth skin of her right inner thigh.

I drew back, made eye contact with Karla, and then I kissed her gently, just below her clitoris, feeling the sticky moisture of her inner labia on my own lips as I drew back again. "Just there, wasn't it?" I asked, looking back at her, "That's where you wanted me to kiss you, wasn't it?"

"That's the place," she answered, taking a deep breath, "Right where I showed you." Karla sighed, and I kissed her again, in the same place, pausing to inhale her sexy scent, and then I turned my head sideways, and parted her inner lips with my tongue, then ran it down towards her opening, savouring the taste of her pussy, as every breath I took, sweetened with her intimate aroma, fuelled my arousal further. I already felt an intense need to have this beautiful young woman, to satisfy my needs, and yes, my lust, with her, but I wanted to take my time over attending to her precious pussy with my mouth. I teased gently at her opening with the very tip of my tongue, feeling her body shudder, and then I probed a little further, tasting the inner walls, experiencing the flavour of her womanhood, and then running my tongue back up towards her clit again.

Karla's pussy seemed noticeably wetter as my tongue made its way back along her slit, and she flinched when the right side brushed her clitoris. I was out of practice with oral lovemaking, but I was hoping to bring Karla to orgasm by going down on her, before moving on to the main event.

I changed my position just slightly, so I could tease at her clit with my tongue, and Karla opened her legs a little more, to give me more room to work. Her right hand was gently caressing the back of my head, but apart from the occasional sigh, or a sharp intake of breath, she had not spoken since she let me know I had kissed her right where she had asked me to.

"You seem to know what you're doing," Karla said, speaking softly, "That feels lovely. I could let you do it all night."

"Glad you like it," I said, drawing my face back from her pussy, inhaling the scent again, and sitting back. I wanted to make her come by going down her, so I said, "Just turn yourself sideways on the bed," and she looked at my face, and began to move around as I asked. "Grab your pillow," I said, "and lie with your bottom near the edge of the bed." Karla moved around, so she was lying across my bed, with her bottom and her pussy near the edge, with her legs bent, and her heels on the edge as well. She put her pillow under her head, and said, "Like this?"

I nodded, and said, "That's the way," and I hopped down to kneel on the right side of my bed, with my head between Karla's legs. Her pussy was now open and exposed to me, glistening with her fluids, and I moved in to kiss her in the centre of her patch of pubic hair, feeling a renewed wave of excitement as I inhaled the scent, and looked at her open pussy, waiting for further attention from me.

"It really is intimate, isn't it?" Karla said, looking down at me, "But, with you, I feel like I'm in good hands. It's kind of exciting, just having you looking at me down there, and all that touching and kissing. I can't describe it."

I was having feelings that are hard to describe myself, as I placed my hands on Karla's thighs, feeling the smooth skin on my palms, and against my cheeks, and as exciting as it was to kiss, lick and explore her pussy, I still turned to first kiss her left inner thigh, and to caress the silky smooth skin, over the firm muscle, with my lips. "Your body's beautiful," I said, from between Karla's thighs, "I could explore you all night. There are so many things I'd like to do to you right now."

Karla reached down with her right hand, and parted her inner pussy lips with two fingers, exposing her clit to me. I took her hint, and I placed my lips around her clit, very gently, but even so, I heard a little gasp from her, and I used the tip of my tongue to brush it very gently from underneath. Karla flinched, and her thighs squeezed against the sides of my head. "That's really sensitive," I heard her say, when her thighs relaxed, but her voice sounded like she was smiling. I took her fingers into my mouth, wiping the juices from them with my lips. Then, I gave her hand a gentlemanly kiss, and she withdrew it, to let me get back to work.

I moved in again, and I teased at the tiny opening of her pussy with the very tip of my tongue once more, feeling her flinch at my touch. I then kissed my way up between her inner lips, tasting the fluids that were pooled in the recess between them, scooping some out on my tongue, and spreading it around inside my mouth, so I could really experience the flavour. Her pussy lips were now swollen and moist, and after I had once more run my tongue along one of them, tasting them, hearing her sighing as I did so, I decided to get serious with Karla's clit.

I wrapped my hands around her thighs, so hold her in place, and I put my lips over her clit and it's hood, and teased at it again with my tongue. Almost immediately, Karla's body jerked, and I heard her taking a gasping breath between her teeth, so I relaxed my mouth, so she could relax her body. My face was still buried in Karla's lovely pussy, my lips around her clit, my nose gently nuzzling her pubic hair, and once again, every breath was infused with the scent from that private place, as I tasted her clitoris, and the fluids oozing from her.

One more time, I gently worked Karla's clit with my mouth, only this time I was not going to stop until I had triggered her orgasm. This beautiful young girl had offered herself to me, holding nothing back, entrusting the most intimate parts of her body to me, and I intended to make her come with my mouth, before allowing myself to have my own satisfaction her.

As I moved my head back and forth, applying the gentlest of suction to Karla's clit, I heard her take two quick, short breaths, and her pelvis jerked in my arms. I continued on, and I heard her cry out, "Oh, Allan, that's amazing!" She drew breath again, and then cried out, with a rising inflexion, "I think I'm coming!" and with a rasping gasp, she clenched her thighs around my head, lifting her pelvis, crying out once more, "I'm coming, Allan!! I'm coming!!"

For a few precious seconds, my face was trapped between Karla's thighs, buried in her pussy, as her orgasm wracked her slender young body, and then she relaxed, with a breathy sigh. I knelt back, and Karla drew her legs up, clutched at her belly with her arms, and turned to lie on her right side, facing me, with her knees up. Her eyes were wide, her face had a look of wonderment, and she said, "You made me come, Allan. Nobody's ever done that. Only me."

I moved closer, to hold her, and I said, "Only you?" Karla nodded.

"Only me," she smiled.

"What about Anthony?" I asked.

Karla shook her head, lying there on her side, and she said, "I used to love having sex with him, and it always felt really good, but he never made me come, not like that." She took her hands away from her belly, and stretched out again, then moved over to let me on the bed. I got on next to her, on her right side this time, and hugged her. "I used to have to finish off myself, when I got home." She smiled and added, "I'm surprised you didn't hear me, some nights."

"I never knew," I said, looking at Karla's pretty face, as she smiled back at me. She pulled me to herself, and kissed me on the mouth, hot and sexy, lingering, tasting, and after our lips parted, she whispered, "I can taste myself on your lips." Her left hand moved down to my hard tool, and she touched it gently through my pyjama shorts. "I think we've got some more business to attend to." She stroked along my cock with her thumb and forefinger through my shorts, and said, "Lets got those pants off."

I lay back on the bed, and Karla sat up. "Allow me," she said, as she slipped her hands under the waistband, and slipped my PJ shorts off, exposing my erect cock. "So that's what started all this," she said, looking first at my shiny-headed penis, then at me. She touched my cock with her left hand, gently dry-wanking it a couple of strokes, so I was the one now flinching, and then, wrapping her right hand around it, she rubbed the little bubble of fluid leaking from the sensitive head, with her thumb. I flinched again, sucking air through my own clenched teeth, and she said, "This is payback," rubbing it again, making my whole body shudder involuntarily.

After going down on Karla, and tasting her sweet pussy, I was so aroused, so excited, I was ready to mount her and fuck her summarily, but she seemed to be having so much fun, I just lay there, flinching and jerking, watching her as she fondled my cock. Then, she looked at me and said, "I think it's time you put this inside me, Allan. I really want you there." She moved up to kiss me, and said, "You've got no idea how much I want you inside me."

I kissed her on the mouth again, and I took her by the shoulders, gently turning her onto her back, and I moved over, getting between her legs. Karla held my gaze as I moved into position, and she said, "Let's do this thing."

The sight of Karla, lying naked there in front of me, just about took my breath away, and I moved down, to take the weight on my left elbow, and guided my cock to the opening of her pussy. I entered her, pushing in so that just the head of my cock was inside, and I began to stroke back and forth, using only the head, just teasing her. The feeling was amazing, as the wet and welcoming entrance of Karla's snug little pussy embraced just the head of my hard cock, and I moved down to kiss her mouth at the same time. "Having fun?" she asked, in a whisper, after we broke our kiss.

"Just teasing," I said, smiling down at her, "but I like the way it feels."

"Tell me about it," she said, still whispering.

I began to work my cock a little deeper with each stoke, and when I was inside as far as I could go, still stroking gently, Karla said, "I can feel every bit of you," then she took a sharp breath, and added, "Every time you move, it's fantastic!"

I could only agree. Karla's pussy was snug, following every contour of my rigid cock, as I moved back and forth inside her, and every movement was ecstasy. "This is beautiful," Karla said, looking up at me, "It always feels good when I do it, but this is just beautiful. I can't describe it. The way you're being so gentle with me."

Karla kissed me again, but this was a more passionate kiss than any we had experienced together so far. She pulled me to herself, wrapping her arms around me, locking her mouth to mine, breathing into my mouth, and her breath made it even more exciting for me. She wasn't moving her own pelvis, but was just allowing me to set the pace and the rhythm, but she was inexperienced, so I understood that. I had been spurred to an incredible level of arousal by going down on Karla, and by the taste, the sight, touch and the scent of her pussy, and I knew I would not last much loner before my own orgasm burst, but I was hoping to make Karla come one more time. I could fell the twinges of my own climax starting, but I held back, staving it off by force of will.

As we fucked passionately, Karla was kissing me hot and hard, and in spite of everything I was experiencing, I wondered if she had been like this with Anthony. I put the thought out of my mind, and got back to concentrating on making her come before I did, increasing the pace of my thrusting a little, going just that little deeper inside her. Her pussy was incredibly wet, and the fit of my hard cock was so snug it was an effort to hold back my own orgasm, as the walls hugged my sensitive cock, stimulating it to perfection.

"You're going faster," Karla said, breathlessly, as though it was an effort to speak, "Deeper, too," she added, "I can feel you going deeper, so deep."

"Is that okay?' I asked, concerned it may be hurting her."

"That's where I want you," she said, kissing me again, hugging me to her self, tilting her own pelvis a little. The change in position seemed to make it feel better for both of us, as my hard, unyielding cock began to be stimulated in a slightly different way, the head getting more pressure inside her as I thrust in. "Something just happened," Karla said, "when I moved," She took a ragged breath, and began to move her pelvis to meet me with each stroke, making me go deeper inside her body.

"Are you gonna come soon?" Karla said, as her jaw began to quiver, "Because I think am." She swallowed, tilted her head back on the pillow, and in a voice that surprised me with its loudness, she cried out, "Ohh, Allan, I'm coming again!! I can't tell you how good that feels!!" as I continued to thrust into her pussy, feeling it spasm around my hard cock. but then she cried out, "Oh, there's more, there's more! That's..., " but she didn't finish, as her chest heaved twice, and she squeezed her eyes shut, throwing her head back, with an expression that looked like she was in pain for a moment.

That was it for me. I gave in to the need to experience my own orgasm, as Karla's pussy milked it from me, and I felt a burst of exquisite pleasure at the base of my cock, as I spurted hard inside her. The wave of pleasure spread right through me, reaching every corner of my body, and for a few precious seconds, all I knew was intense, crystalline ecstasy, and then I came back to reality, still thrusting into Karla, who now had her legs wrapped around me, hugging me tightly.

I felt Karla's body relax under me, and she said, "I didn't know it could be as good as that." She was still breathing a little heavily, but she kissed me again, and added, "It always felt good, but I had no idea it could be that good." I had to lie down, so I rolled onto Karla's right side, and although I was a little breathless, myself, I said, "If you're gonna do it," pausing to take a breath, "you may as well do it right." I kissed her again, loving the feeling of her soft mouth on mine, and we both lay there in each other's arms.

Karla and I held each other for a while, until we got our breath back, and we talked about what we had just done, and where it might lead. We had crossed a line that night, and neither of us knew quite what the future held, but we both knew that it was a line we would be crossing again, and again.



Body Language



"It's nothing personal. I'm sure you're very skilled. I just can't be hypnotized."

Looking up at Lady Whisper from her position at Master's feet, Sydney found it hard to tell whether she took Master's comments personally or not. Lady Whisper had that same enigmatic smile she'd worn the entire party, the one that had drawn them into finding a secluded spot to talk with her, but somehow it never seemed to touch her eyes. They looked...hungry, somehow. The brown irises were so dark as to be almost black, and it gave her an oddly penetrating gaze. As though she was sizing everyone she saw for a collar. She looked like she expected everyone to belong to her, and was patient enough to wait for them to realize it. "Everyone can be hypnotized," she said mildly, "except for a few people with specific neurological conditions. And you don't seem like you're mentally ill to me."

Master chuckled. Sydney knew that Lady Whisper was barking up the wrong tree if she thought she was going to put a collar on Master; they'd been active together in the Chicago BDSM scene for six years now, and frequented a number of kink parties like this one, and Sydney had never even heard of anyone topping him, let alone seen him take an interest in submission. He was a dominant to the core. "That's all just theory," he said. "I'm talking in practice. Since you can't hypnotize someone against their will, and I don't want to be hypnotized, I can't be hypnotized. QED." Sydney tried to hide a smile. Even in a conversation, he had to take charge.

Lady Whisper leaned forward slightly, her red silk dress gathering her cleavage invitingly as she did so, and her eyes somehow seemed more alive to Sydney. She reminded Sydney of a hawk that had just noticed something small and furry scurrying along far below it, and was getting ready to dive. "So many people have said to me that you can't hypnotize someone against their will," she said with a slight purr in her voice, "and I've never figured out where they got that idea from. I've hypnotized plenty of people who weren't planning on it at the start of the conversation--it's not a matter of forcing them into trance, it's a matter of finding ways to convince them that they really want to be hypnotized more than they thought they did."

"Then I'll clarify further," Master said with a grin. "You might be able to hypnotize 'everyone', you might be able to hypnotize 'someone', but you're not going to be hypnotizing me." Sydney could tell he was enjoying the challenge, and she squirmed just a little at the way his body tensed with excitement. She was just as submissive as he was dominant, and she loved to trace over every ridge of his taut muscles with her eyes, knowing how much power was contained within them. She loved the fact that he went nude at parties like this, displaying his perfectly-sculpted body and knowing that everyone was looking at him for all the right reasons.

Of course, Sydney knew that she was more than a little biased; that power was part of what had attracted Sydney to Master in the first place. Something about having a lover who was much stronger than her always got her so turned on; she loved it when he controlled her with his strength, whether picking her up as easily as a child's toy or pinning her down to the bed and fucking her with his massive cock until she couldn't see straight. She never struggled--she loved the feeling of being helpless too much--but the knowledge that it wouldn't do any good if she did always made her cum so hard she saw stars.

It was almost a disappointment, then, when Lady Whisper just said, "I'm sure you're right. You're probably far too strong-willed to be hypnotized."

Master obviously felt the same way. Sydney saw a look of confusion in his eyes, as though he couldn't quite believe it was just that simple. They'd been debating the uses of hypnosis in BDSM for fifteen minutes now, and she was just giving up?

But Lady Whisper had only been pausing for effect. "But perhaps I could just manage to hypnotize a part of you," she said. "Your cock has a mind of its own, you know. It's been listening to every word I've said. And I think that it's very receptive to hypnosis, even if you aren't."

Master laughed incredulously. "You're kidding, right?" he said after a moment. "What are you going to do, dangle a pocket-watch in front of my groin?"

But Sydney could see that hungry, predatory look in Lady Whisper's eyes. She wasn't kidding at all. "Oh, no," she said. "I'm just going to talk to it. I'm just going to tell your cock how good hypnosis feels, how deeply enjoyable it is. I'm going to tell it how erotic hypnosis can be, and how hot and sexy it is to go into a deep trance for me. And your cock will listen, because your cock wants to be hypnotized."

Master rolled his eyes. "It's a body part," he said sarcastically, "not an independent entity. It doesn't get to vote, here."

"But when you walk down the street and see a pretty girl," Lady Whisper said, "you don't decide that she's attractive and tell your cock what to do. No, your cock twitches, stiffens, pulses, throbs...all on its own. And right now, your cock sees me, hears me, thinks about how good hypnosis feels...and look!"

Sydney was at the perfect height to see what Lady Whisper was talking about. She only had to look away from the other woman and back over to Master to see that his cock was starting to harden, twitching slightly as the blood rushed into it.

"That's right," Lady Whisper said, "your cock is already starting to obey. Your cock wants to obey me. With every passing moment, your cock sinks deeper into hypnosis, and as it does so it becomes longer, harder, thicker, standing to attention and awaiting my commands..."

Master looked up at Lady Whisper, then back down at his own stiffening prick. "It's just, um...it doesn't mean anything, okay?" he muttered. Sydney shivered at the lack of confidence in his voice. She'd never heard Master sound like this before. "It's just normal, that's all. Happens all the time at parties like this."

"It happens all the time," Lady Whisper agreed. "Your cock makes the decision, and all the blood just drains out of your head down to your other mind, the one that's getting more and more powerful with every passing moment. And that mind is listening to me. That mind is becoming deeply hypnotized. Your cock wants to obey me. It wants to sink deep into my will. Every second, harder and harder."

Master started to look up at Lady Whisper again, but he seemed strangely fascinated by his own growing erection. Sydney almost reached out and shook him, then, but he had commanded her to be still and silent while they talked, and she knew he wouldn't be happy with her if she disobeyed. It would be like suggesting that he needed help in resisting this, and she knew that he didn't...did he?

"So stiff, now, so hard and hot and throbbing, and your cock is so ready to obey me, and soon it will. When I snap my fingers, your cock will go into a deep state of hypnosis, ready to listen and to obey my will. Standing all the way to attention, now, sticking all the way up, and..." Lady Whisper snapped her fingers. Sydney and Master both shook at the sound.

Master's cock was jutting out from his lap now, its head purplish-red with arousal, and he couldn't take his eyes away from it as it bobbed and swayed slightly from the tiny twitches of further need. "And now your cock is deeply hypnotized, and now your cock obeys my will. I command your cock, and your cock is turned now to helping me hypnotize you as well. And every time you think about trying to resist me, your cock just sends another pulse of arousal through your relaxed and heavy body, and it's so hard to think when you're too hard to think, and all you can think about now is how good your cock feels. Your cock is doing all the real thinking now, isn't it?"

Sydney stared open-mouthed at Master, unable to tear her eyes away. His chin was resting on his chest as he looked down at his rock-hard cock, following every tiny motion of it with his eyes. "I...no," he mumbled, "nnnnh...nnnn..." Sydney watched the trickles of pre-cum leaking from the tip, slowly dribbling down the shaft of his cock as it throbbed and twitched again and again. She imagined those waves of arousal flooding his body, overwhelming him every time he tried to speak, or think, or do anything Lady Whisper didn't want him to do...

"That's right, when you think you get harder and it gets harder to think..." Lady Whisper purred out, and Sydney shivered at the husky, seductive tones of her voice. She felt like she should stop this, it was her Master being hypnotized, but it was so fucking hot... "Your cock is so big, so thick, so powerful that you just can't fight it. Your cock is doing allll the thinking now, isn't it?"

"I...I..." Master went silent for a long moment, sinking back into the couch cushions with a dazed expression on his face. His eyes looked glassy and unfocused as he stared straight ahead at his cock. "Yes..." he whispered at last, all the strength gone from his voice.

"I control your cock."

Master was panting now, squirming with arousal. "Yes..."

"I control your cock. Say it."

Sydney heard it then, the empty tone of mindless pleasure in his voice. "You control my cock."

"Your cock controls you."

"My cock..." He gasped with another burst of arousal. "My cock controls me."

"I control you."

"You..." He shook his head slightly from side to side, trying to deny it. "N..no..."

Lady Whisper spoke in tones of firm command now, her words somehow seeming to echo in Sydney's ears. "Your cock wants you to reach out and stroke it now. It wants to feel you stroking and pumping your fist up...and down..."

"I...I..." Master's fingers twitched helplessly at his side, and his arm slowly drifted upwards as though he wasn't even aware of it.

"That's right," Lady Whisper said, her voice soft and coaxing and somehow sending a tiny thrill up Sydney's spine. "You can't help it now, your cock controls you and it wants you to stroke...and stroke..."

Master wrapped his hand around his cock with a tiny whimper of submission and began to slide it up and down the shaft, working the pre-cum all up and down its length. "Doesn't that feel so good?" Lady Whisper asked quietly.

"Yes..." Master said, his words a strangled grunt of pleasure.

"You couldn't help yourself," Lady Whisper said. "Your cock told you to stroke and you had to stroke. Your cock controls you."

"My cock...cock controls..." Master's hips bucked up as his hand stroked down, and it seemed to Sydney that she could actually feel that cock thrusting into her, so familiar was the sensation. "Controls me..."

"And I control your cock."

A tiny streamer of drool trickled out of the corner of Master's mouth as he pumped mindlessly away with his fist. "You control...cock..."

"So I control you," Lady Whisper continued remorselessly.

"You, yes...yes...yes..." Every word was punctuated by another stroke along the shaft. Sydney couldn't even see Master's face anymore, she was so fixated on the motion of his hand on his cock.

"And that feels so good, so hot that you're going to cum soon." Master shook with arousal just from hearing the words. You're going to cum so hard for me and then sink into a deep, obedient trance, just as your cock sinks down and relaxes for me. It's going to feel so good. It's going to feel sooo good. It's going to feel...sooo...good..."

"So good...so good..." Master chanted the words along with Lady Whisper now, his hips bucking and thrusting irregularly as he moaned. Sydney knew how close he was, she could feel it all through her body, and she felt her own breath coming faster and faster in sympathy as her whole focus narrowed down to his cock.

"And...cum. Cum now, so good to feel my control as you cum...and cum...and cum..." Sydney shuddered as she watched Master's cock spurt all over his hand, droplets spattering his thighs and stomach. She clenched her legs together, feeling such intense heat that it almost felt like she was cumming just from watching him.

"That's right, good boy. Good boy. Cum and sleep now, sinking deeper and deeper down, relaxing all the way down into trance for me." Sydney watched as Master slumped completely back into the couch cushions, his eyes sliding all the way shut as his hand fell to his side. She felt strangely numb, detached from the events she'd just watched. It felt like a waking dream, or maybe like a dream she hadn't woken from yet. Or one she didn't want to wake from at all.

Suddenly, Sydney felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned around in surprise. She wasn't sure when Lady Whisper had gotten so close behind her, but suddenly Lady Whisper's eyes filled her whole field of vision. "I control your Master," Lady Whisper said, without preamble.

Sydney wondered just how long she'd been hypnotized, watching Master succumb to Lady Whisper's will and hearing her words. When had she slipped into a trance, exactly? When had she stopped thinking of Lady Whisper's words as being aimed at Master and started accepting them into her own mind? It didn't matter now. It had happened, and she'd fallen past the point of resistance without even noticing it. "You control my Master," she whispered, the first words she'd spoken since kneeling at his feet fifteen minutes ago.

"Your Master controls you." The words were quiet and gentle in Sydney's ears, but she couldn't think of disputing them now. She couldn't think of anything now.

"My Master controls me."

"I control you." It felt so perfect and right to Sydney that she wondered how she could ever have not understood that. She'd always wanted to be helpless, and she was more helpless now than she'd ever been. She didn't want to struggle, and she knew that she wouldn't be able to want to.

"You control me," Sydney moaned out. Lady Whisper controlled her. It made so much sense, now.

Lady Whisper snapped her fingers, and Sydney's eyes slammed shut as she sank into trance.

THE END



Body Language



***Note to the readers: Please excuse my vacancy, but know I am over joyed to be back. My other work, TTDTS, never received any additional chapters as originally promised, and its absence was noted. I am working to correct that immediately. In the mean time, please amuse yourself with this piece. I'll be back soon, for real this time.*** 

*

My relationship with Anna left little to be desired. She was a great woman, and when I finished college, I left behind my past and decided it would be best to settle down. I knew Anna would make the perfect wife; she was a solid rock in a sea of women. If not for her, I couldn't even begin to tell you where I would be today.

I had spent my entire high school and college years playing the field, and when I was single, it was open season. I would juggle the girls in my life with a strategic cunning that MacArthur would have applauded. I would even feign the appearance of commitment and spend a few weeks with one girl, but as soon as another opportunity sauntered by, I'd slink away with a tip of my hat and a smirk on my face. On the rare occasion that I found myself in an actual relationship, they would never last more than a few months, and I couldn't even stay faithful for that short amount of time. 

Sure, I felt bad about it sometimes. I wasn't completely without a conscious. I'm sure I broke a few hearts along the way. But if you asked me at the time, I would have quickly justified that the women I was with knew exactly what they were getting themselves into, and that it was their own damn fault. Hell, I would've been able to introduce you to the women I had been with before and you could have seen for yourself that there was no hard feelings most of the time. When I was with a girl, I treated her like a princess; you can bet the house on that one buddy. Sure, there were tears when I left, occasionally anger, sometimes outright hostility. (But damn, she looked hot swinging that bat over and over, denting my car in the process. Some women just look sexy when they want to kill you.) 

The majority of the time though, even if they hated me at first, most would forgive me. I made a point to show up again, tell them how wonderful they were, convince them that there was someone else out there better than me and they deserved to go find them and be happy. I even meant it a few times. I remembered their birthdays, their special events, the things they liked, and what they wanted most out of life. Even after I left, with the prospect of sex was gone, and the fling was over, I would still send them gifts, tell them they were beautiful, compliment the things they were most self-conscious about, listen to their new relationship problems, comfort them when they needed it, humored them when I could, and told them that they deserved the world, I even provided the occasional physical release if they needed it, sure to focus only on them and their needs. 

I manipulated each and every one of them, I toyed with their emotions, made them want me, and when I was gone, I made them miss me. It didn't work with all of them, but it worked often enough. The trick was to find the innocent ones, the shy ones, the ones with self-esteem issues, the vulnerable ones. Yes. My name is Jack, and I am an asshole.

Whew. Glad I got that off my chest. 

My little mind games all came to an end the day I met Anna. She was sweet, shy, coming off a bad break up, and needed someone to tell her how wonderful she was. She was the perfect prey. I moved in for the kill... and she blindsided me. Not only did she see right through all my bullshit, she made a game out of telling me what a complete asshole I was. I literally pulled out all the stops that had worked on every girl I had ever known, and at the end of one particular night, when I thought things were going well, when I thought she had fallen for everything that I was feeding her, she let me have it.

I had just gotten her back to my apartment after a night out and she was dressed to impress. We had fooled around before, but we hadn't actually had sex yet, and I thought for sure she was giving it up tonight. The way she moved her hips when she I knew I was behind her, the slightly tilt of her mouth when I complimented her, how she crossed her legs and ran her hand along her thigh as she smoothed the hem of her dress. She wore a sleek black number, with a line of white flowers that ran diagonally down her dress from the top of its one strap, across her fantastically large chest, over her curvy hips and down the side of that round bubble her dress was barely concealing. Delicious was an understatement. Sure, she wasn't the thinnest thing in the world, rather, a physique most men would call curvy as they licked their lips, picturing her bouncing on top of him. She, however, saw it as a flaw, and was constantly complaining about her need to slim down and tone up a little. Her light brown hair cascaded in ringlets that dropped to her shoulder.

She sat down on the couch across from my chair and crossed her luscious legs that looked curvy, but firm, a product of a few years of softball and volleyball. She leaned forward to unbuckle the straps for her heels, her dress revealed a modest amount of cleavage as she did so, showing the skin above her chest, which was usually creamy white, but now had the slightest flush of pink in it. My eyes jerked up from her chest. 

"What an amateur move, Jack." I silently chided myself. I had a handful of rules I abided by. One of them was about looking. Stare only to acknowledge beauty, display desire, or recognize passion. See, staring usually signifies want, or interest. Most women worth staring at have been wanted before; they are used to being interested in. You are setting yourself up to be viewed as another dog panting as she walks by. Granted, some women like when you stare like that, so there was always a chance it might lead to something. But a vast majority of women love to be desired. How many women do you know that don't like being considered beautiful? You don't stare at a woman like she is a piece of meat, you only stare if you know you are conveying more than the fact that you want to sleep with her. She has to be able to see it in your eyes that you aren't just fixated on her tits. Your stare has to say: "You are an alter I want to worship. You are a goddess I would love to please. You are not just a piece of ass, you are the most gorgeous woman in the world, and any man would be lucky just to touch you." When she notices, don't look away ashamed at being caught, keep looking, lost in the magnificence, portray that you aren't guilty, you are happy to be praising such a gorgeous figure. Don't look down embarrassed, look her in the eye, show you are impressed with what she has, how she choose to show it off, impressed with the time she takes on her body, or its natural beauty. It takes a lot of practice to get just right, try it in the mirror sometime.

As soon as I noticed I was staring, my eyes automatically adjusted to her lips. Lips were a neutral location, and hers were fascinating. There were soft but plump, they weren't overly large, but they protruded delicately. You wouldn't call them pouty, because even when she wasn't, they always seemed on the verge of smiling. Kissing her was a treat any man would enjoy, and if she wandered away from your mouth with them, you would swear that when you closed your eyes you were transported just inside the gates heaven. They were painted a light pink, the act of which was lost on me, the color barely changed from its natural pigment, if at all. The edges were slightly upturned on one side, it looked almost mischievous... wait, shit. 

I knew that smile. I had displayed that same smile many times, the smile said "I know what you are up to, I'm on to you." A smile usually reserved for when some girl thought she was being coy with me, when I noticed that her facade of innocence had a hole in it. I snapped up from her lips to her eyes. The most beautiful almond shaped, gorgeous green eyes you have ever seen, with speckles of gold throughout them. They were difficult not to notice, and looked all the more seductive from the contrast of the lightest amount of purple eye shadow above them, the long lashes she had applied mascara to, and the faintest hint of eyeliner. She rarely wore any make up, but when she dolled herself up, she was an artist when it came to her eyes. They always looked seductive, even when she wasn't trying to be, but now they also had a glint of mischief in them, and the tiniest glimmer of something I had never seen before. I was immediately taken aback. I wasn't detailing her body anymore; I was trying to coldly calculate what was going through her mind. I narrowed my eyes as hers burned into mine. I prided myself in my ability to read body language. I could understand people by analyzing what they said, how they said it, the way their eyes adjusted when the mouth it was coupled with moved, or shifted when certain words were said aloud, the movement of their body, and more importantly, how they moved. Context was king. Though I didn't know what that twinkle in her eye meant I knew I was terrified of it immediately. Worse, she knew it too.

Her second heel clicked to the floor breaking the tense stare down between us like a shower of cold ice. I swear I only blinked and she was across the room, straddling me and pushing my shoulders back into the chair I was sitting on. Any other day in the history of my life, I would be thanking my lucky stars. This kind of action was usually coupled with an animalistic instinct, lips and tongues would mingle, hands would flash off clothing and explore the body more thoroughly. Wild and crazy sex should ensue. Instead I grasped the arm rests of my lazy boy and held on as if it was the only thing holding me to life. I tried to struggle back but was trapped between her body and my chair. I could have stood up, or pushed her off me, I suppose. I don't consider myself muscular, but I was healthy and fit, keeping a lean physique. So, lifting her up off of me wouldn't have been hard, in fact, it would have been downright easy with the amount of adrenaline flowing through my veins, happily supplied from my brains fight or flight receptors. The truth was I was so stunned and terrified so fast that the only coherent option that materialized was to go backwards and away from the woman on top of me. When that didn't work my body shut down. I was frozen in a stupefied state of fear. The glimmer in her eyes from before were now daggers shooting at me. She grasped a handful of dirty blonde hair and snapped my head back exposing my neck. Unrealistic fears of vampirism flashed through my brain before the wheels in my head sputtered to life and kicked out the first thing that it saw.

"What the actual fuck?" I spat out. I can't even recall the context in which I used it, if any specific tone was used, it was purely a base level of confusion mixed with a dash of fear. Smooth operator, I wasn't.

"Jack," she began, "you are such an asshole." Her lips pursed together, her nails slightly dug into my shoulder where she still had one hand pushing me against the back of my chair, the dangerous look in her eyes amplified, daring me to disagree.

As luck would have it, I did in fact agree with her, I almost nodded my head to convey it, then I remembered the vice grip she had on the back of my head. So instead I just continued to stare at her, dumbfounded.

"How many innocent girls have lured into your bedroom under the false pretense that the only thing you wanted to do was please them?" She asked the question in a sultry voice that would have been considered sexy if I didn't think she wanted to kill me.

"I uh-"

"The next thing out of your mouth better be a number Jack." She tugged my hair a little for emphasis.

I snapped my mouth shut, and after an awkward silence of her staring through my soul, I shrugged, trying to look as meager as I could. Who keeps count of that sort of thing anyway?

"Did you honestly think that I would fall for all that bullshit you spouted off? I was on the rebound, just dumped by one asshole, only to be picked up by another asshole, pretending to be the most caring, concerned, totally not trying to get in my pants, just here to please you type of guy? You expected me to believe that disguise you had on?"

Here I was, for the first time in my entire life, being called out for exactly what I was. By some woman I had only started seeing three weeks ago at that. My mind reeled backwards in time as I watched myself say calculated phrases that had worked on every girl I had ever met. I was treated to a front row flash back of all the things I did, the way I touched her, the gentle demeanor, the easy going humor, the way I 'opened up' for her and shared my 'dreams'... hey, stop laughing and rolling your eyes, this was class A shit here, I'm not exaggerating a damned thing, and it worked almost every time. And when I gauged it wouldn't work, I disappeared so fast they wondered if I was ever there to begin with. Anna was right though, actually considering the bullshit that came out of my mouth sometimes, I surprised myself how often it worked out. Never before had I been so thoroughly caught though. At the first scent of someone smart enough to see through my tricks for what they were, I was gone. Anna had realized what I was up to, and strung me along, allowing me to believe she was putty in my hands, only to shatter the vision and snap me back to reality so fast I had figurative whiplash.

The mastery of deception behind it all actually impressed me. I found myself admiring her prowess, but it was quickly replaced by the question nagging near the back of my head, fairly close to where that burning sensation caused from hair being pulled away from my skull still persisted. If she knew I was playing her, why was she here? Why not dismiss me like the others before or call me out? What was she getting at?

A little voice in the back of my head reminded me that she had asked a question, my eyes darted back and forth as I looked for an answer. Well, of course I expected her to believe the disguise I had. Somehow, that didn't seem like the right thing to say. Instead, I eased my body, releasing the muscles that had been tensing for the past few minutes. I took a deep breath and went through the motions required to seem less threatening. Relax yourself, make no sudden movements, remove emotion from your face, avert your eyes, feign shame, and mutter. 

"I'm sorry." I muttered. She laughed. She actually laughed at me. She released the back of my head, but failed to remove her other hand, and by extension, her nails from my shoulder. She traced a finger down the side of my face. 

"Oh, Jack. Of course you're sorry. You're sorry you've been caught. You're a sorry sack of shit is what you are." He finger disappeared from the side of my face and was replaced by a smacking sound that I thought the neighbors might hear. Good, maybe they'll call 911? Quick, officer, the deranged, batshit insane, crazy girl went that way! 

The way she was still laughing as I fought the urge to rub the side of my face made me realize that there would be no rescue. There had been much louder, carnal noises out of this apartment than a few slaps and laughing... I was utterly without hope of escape. But I made a mental note that if I had to murder her, I could probably get away with it. Constant wild sex had its advantages after all.

"I guess you're wondering what exactly this is all about." She finally said after the laughter subsided and she sighed. Well, Madame Nutcase, guess you can read minds, because that's exactly what the fuck I'm wondering.

"It may have crossed my mind." was all I said. I was more irritated now that my senses were coming out of shock. I went from having my master plan being thrown back in my face to be being outright humiliated in a matter of seconds. 

"You see Jack, I know assholes. I've dated a long string of them. Sometimes I knew it before hand, other times I found out the hard way. The different between them is the degree in which they were assholes. I have to say, you top them all with flying colors."

"Do I get a gold sticker?" I quickly regretted the quip as my head snapped to the side again. She wasn't slapping me to do damage, but the way my cheek stung afterwards let me know that she wasn't exactly being playful either.

"Say something stupid again," she giggled, "I'm starting to enjoy this." Have I mentioned the sheer amount of insanity involved in this entire situation yet? Have I!? Because holy shit, color me crazy, but I found myself still sitting in that damn chair underneath that girl when the door was less than ten feet away leading to freedom, and a window five feet directly behind me, for more drastic measures. I repeat: I did not try to run away.

"Do you know the problem with men like you?" She asked me, stroking my face with one finger again. It was almost soothing against the stinging skin.

"We're so damn irresistible?" Somewhere deep within my mind, my subconscious was banging pots and pans together trying to get my attention. My nervous system started swearing at me and my face was building a case for disowning me. I flinched, tightening my neck muscles, shut my eyes, and waited. I was surprised when instead of another stinging sensation, I felt her gently cup the side of my face with her hand. I opened one eye just in time to see her roll her eyes and sigh.

"You're really stupid for someone with such a brilliant strategy to pick up women. You realize that right?"

"You know what they say, you either get looks or the brains." I said, smirking, knowing that I was tempting fate.

"Oh? And which one do I have, honey?" She asked sweetly, as I consciously reminded myself of the nails still pressed against my shoulder.

"An hour ago? Definitely looks. Now? Not so sure."

"You really know how to sweep a girl off her feet, don't you, Jack?"

"I do what I can. You still really haven't explained to me what this is all about though."

"As I was saying, I've dated plenty of assholes. When you gave me your number at the bar that day, I was still undecided about you. Then the bartender told me a little about you."

"Wait... Jimmy told you about me? What did he say?" I couldn't believe my ears. Jimmy's Bar was my favorite place in the world. The idea that Jimmy was outing me to potential hook-ups wasn't something I could comprehend.

"So impatient!" She tapped the side of my face. "I was gonna to tell you! Jimmy said that you were a regular at the bar, however the girls you were with, were not regulars, in fact, he rarely saw them more than a few times before you showed up with another."

"Fantastic. Jimmy told you I'm not into commitment." I made a mental note to tip him less and stab him in the throat when I was there next.

"Oh, he suggested a little bit more than that, Jack."

Jack scowled and re-planned his next visit to the bar to include more broken bar stools, and even less of a tip.

"Don't look so upset! He's my uncle, he's obligated to tell me things like that." She said it like it was common knowledge. 

"Your uncle!? You have got to be shitting me." This just kept getting better.

"Afraid it's the truth baby. So after his little warning, I asked around and found out some interesting things about you. The funny thing is, the few women I spoke to weren't even mad at you. The more I heard the sicker it made me. I mean, it takes some serious balls to pull the shit you've been up to."

"Cats outta the bag doll, you got me. You knew all about my extracurricular activities, and yet you're still here." Here she was criticizing me like Merlin watching parlor room magic tricks. Saying I was a little out of my element may have been an understatement. "Why is that?" I asked. She shook her head; she almost looked like she was taking pity on me.




Body Language



"Jack, honey, I wanted to show you that two could play at your little game. Turns out you're not as sly as you thought you were. Someone finally took the time to actually look into you, and it turns out that you, like most men, are just another dog." Her last three words were punctuated each with their own little jab into my skin from her nails. That was starting to hurt.

"Glad we had this conversation. If you don't mind, I'm going to have to ask you to leave. You don't have to go home, but you can't stay here." I was fed up with her and wanted her gone. She, however, seemed to have different ideas.

"Oh, but I do mind. I'm not going anywhere Jack, I'm gonna stay a little longer, and you're gonna like it."

"No. You're not. I'm clearly not getting laid tonight, so if you don't mind, there is a bottle of whiskey waiting for me in the kitchen that I'd like to show a good time instead." I made a show of attempting to move her, hoping she would get up on her own accord. I was ticked off, but I understood that the last thing you wanted to do is apply even the slightest physical force against a woman who seemed like she wanted to tear your heart out.

"Yes. I am." She leaned forward into me, making it clear that she wasn't going anywhere. "What's wrong Jack, I thought you liked it when women climbed on top of you."

"Their intentions were a little clearer at the time. Beside, this has to be some kind of illegal. False imprisonment by someone in need of a mental institution."

"What are you implying Jack?"

"What do you mean? I'm pretty sure I didn't stutter. What part of that didn't you understand?"

"Are you... calling me... crazy, Jack?" Her tone was more dangerous when she asked that question than it had been all night. Her shoulders raised and tightened, I felt her legs, still on either side of me, squeeze slightly inward. Her nails in my shoulder seared again as she clenched tighter, pushing me back against the chair hard again. All the signs were there, and I was blind with stupidity.

"Yes. You are completely fucking crazy." The sheer amount of stupidity I had just displayed was further emphasized when I was actually surprised that she had slapped me again. When I turned back to look up at her, her finger was an inch from my nose.

"Don't. Ever. Ever call me crazy." This time I noticed her complete demeanor. She was clearly trying to kill me with that stare. I silently thanked God she wasn't armed, otherwise I would be dead as a door nail at the moment. 

"Y-yes ma'am." I didn't use the slightest amount of sarcasm. 

"I'm glad we have an understanding. Calling someone crazy isn't very nice, Jack."

"I-I'm sorry." Holy shit, I am going to die tonight. This is it, good bye cruel world. Karma had finally come back to me, dragging Death and his scythe behind him. I would like my tombstone to read 'Here Lies Jack, He Fucked Until He Fucked Up'.

"Apologizing? How odd, it sounded like you actually meant it. You aren't trying to appease me, are you? I think this would be so much easier if we were honest with one another."

"Honestly? I'd like to know how much longer I have to live. Can I have a shot and one last cigarette before you kill me?"

"Jack, if I wanted to kill you, I would have done it already, don't you think?"

"I'm trying not to think actually, the more I try to rationalize you're motivation for being here right now, the more my head hurts."

"Oh, poor Jack." She leaned forward and had the audacity to kiss the side of my forehead. "I'll try to stop smacking you around so much..." She kissed the other side of my forehead. "If you promise to be less of a stupid oaf." She said it in a whiny little voice that one might use to make fun of an over-obsessing mother tending to a scrape on her child's knee, but I wasn't really focused on her tone. 

Each time she leaned forward to condescendingly peck my forehead; I glimpsed the two round fleshy mounds her dress was giving way to view. I know, I know. Her tits should be the last thing on my mind, but it's like I said earlier, sometimes a girl looks sexy when she wants to kill you. When she drew her lips back away from my forehead, she immediately took notice of my line of sight. Dammit, second time tonight she caught me staring, I must be getting rusty. She sat straight up letting go of my shoulder for the first time since our conversation began so that she could put both hands over top of her dress where it was previously slinking lower than intended.

"Jack! I know you are not sitting there staring at my chest while I'm trying to teach you a lesson about the way you treat women! Seriously!" She seem genuinely taken aback that I would do such a thing.

"Is that what this is? A lesson? Is this like some kind of intervention? Are you taking on all the poor innocent women in the world that would fall for an asshole like me as a charity case? Do I need legal representation?" Though my eyes never left her chest, and despite my sarcastic comments, I noticed her smile. Well hello there, this is a new development. Is that... amusement I see?

"Why of course. I am saving women all over from your clutches. Maybe I'll make it my life long goal to ensure you can never again invite yourself into some girl's pants."

"Damn, so I'm definitely not getting laid tonight?" I laughed; slightly surprised she took the sarcastic route rather than adding another mark to my cheek. Then again, maybe I was just pressing my luck.

"Oh, did you mistake this for foreplay?" She was almost cocky when she said it.

"Some women are into weird things." I leaned forward slightly. "What turns you on darling?" I had moved beyond pressing my luck, and on to digging my own grave.

"Oh really?" She said it dryly, and she dropped her hands from her chest and used one finger to press my shoulder back against the chair, I didn't resist. "The man with the master plan doesn't already know? Aren't you supposed to be good at that sort of thing?" Her legs were no longer wound like springs on either side of me; she had relaxed the muscles in her body to slouch a little as she straddled me. It was almost like she didn't vehemently hate my guts after all.

"I'm not some omniscient sex god. I try different things until I find something you like. Then I exploit it." There was more truth in that than she probably suspected.

"I'm not as easy as one of the toys you bring home, you aren't just gonna magically find my button and push it."

"Give me two hands and a map, and I'll try my best." She rolled her eyes at me.

"You really do think you're going around blowing girls minds, don't you?" 

"Have you uncovered some evidence suggesting otherwise during your 'private eye' act when you were investigating me?"

"Ugh. No, in fact, as sickening as it sounds, most of the women I talked to actually liked you. God knows why." She glanced to the left and very slightly shifted her weight on her knees before muttering something unintelligible under her breath. Did that sound like embarrassment? Mixed with...envy? Hold my calls nurse; I gotta interesting case on my hands.

"What was that? What did you say there?"

"I said... they said you were great in bed. Ok? Are you happy now? Is that some kind of gratification you needed? Satisfaction that you really are whatever image you have of yourself in that your fat head of yours?" Embarrassment out the window, replaced immediately by our dear friend anger. Terrific, I love when their mood's swing around like wrecking balls. Quick, exit, stage left.

"Is it wrong that I've had a little bit of practice in the area? Is it so bad of me that I like to please the women I'm with?"

"No! It's just... ugh. It's so unfair that conceded assholes like you are good at what you do. And even though you're a horrible person, women flock to you for a good screw. So you are always getting laid, and the ones who refuse to stoop to your level get left on the hook, sexually frustrated all the fucking time!"

Bingo. Jealousy and sexual frustration. "So... having trouble in the bedroom?" I cocked an eyebrow and glanced down at her chest again, and darted back up to her eyes. That dangerous look was back. 

"Don't you look at me like that, Jack." She tensed back up, one hand flitted to the top of her dress, the other waving in my face.

"I could help you with that you know." Her hand shot back to my shoulder, pressing her nails into my skin enough to make me wince.

"Not a chance. You can't always get everything you want Jack. Someone has to put you in your place."

"Anna, baby, it's not about what I want... It's about what you need." I cooed at her, and slid a hand up her thigh gently. She grabbed my hand and forced it back on the armrest.

"Touch me again, and I swear to God, I will claw your eyes out, stab you repeatedly with my heels, and tell the cops you tried to rape me. No one will bat an eye when they cart your body off." The way her words seethed out of her mouth, the cold tone in her voice, the way her eyes glistened, almost begging me to do something stupid, let me know she was not, in any way, shape, or form, joking. 

However, during the quick moment where she wrestled my hand off her thigh and pushed it back, her legs had adjusted further apart, and she was now snugly pressed against the crotch of my jeans. Her dress was already short, but the movement had also moved the dress up so that it had to be barely, if at all, covering that wonderful ass she had back there, and in the front I could swear that I saw a black cloth triangle just under the hem of her dress. 

Her death threat from three seconds ago was still ringing in my ears, snaking their way through the audio receptors in my brain and straight down to the Id, who was very blatantly ignoring it. The Id checked the sensors and receptors in my nervous system, saw stimulation and started building steam. Sending more blood to the lower parts of my body as my Ego and Super Ego started pounding on the doors screaming and yelling to stop the process. My body fought itself as the Id pushed ahead dumping adrenaline and erotic energy into my veins and the Super Ego and Ego pressed against the glass of the door, shouting "ABORT MISSION! ABORT MISSON!" but it was already entirely too late.

Back in the land of tangible reality, everything had frozen. The look of death on Anna's face had been replaced by one of shock. I was near positive it was a mirror of my own. The weight of her body was pushing itself down so that the bulge in my jeans was firmly pressed against whatever lie underneath the dress. She slowly looked down, eyes wide with astonishment, as she tried to comprehend the position, no pun intended, she had found herself in. She looked in horror as her vision confirmed that she was in fact, on top of my erection. As she stared down, processing this information, her dress rolled forward on her shoulder slightly, and the top of her chest became visible again. Somewhere deep inside me, visible stimulation was relayed to my Id, and I felt the bulge in my pants twitch. Anna's head snapped back up, glaring at me, but as she did she shifted again on top of me, barely inching up on my erection. The physical stimulation caused another twitch, coupled with an impulse to bite my lip and release a barely audible, delighted hum. 

The look on her face changed slightly, and it told me she didn't hate the feeling of something hard between her legs. But then it was gone and replaced by anger. She narrowed her eyes, stuck her finger in front of my face, and spoke with venom dripping off every word.

"You. I can not believe you. You si-" She was cut off as I playfully bit her finger. God I'm stupid.

She slapped me with such force that my Ego and Super Ego spilled through the door of my brain with a slew of curses. Maybe biting her finger was taking things a bit far? As she followed through with her slap, her momentum coupled with the way my body twisted almost sent her toppling off the chair onto the floor. For some reason I'll never be able to explain, I grabbed her hips and tried to hold her into place so she wouldn't fall. Her hands flailed out, finding my shoulders and clung to them for dear life. The motion of us both countering the sideways fall caused our bodies to fall back against my chair, which promptly popped out its foot rest and snapped back into a laying position. She rocked forward on me, and as luck would have it I could easily see down her dress again.

Her face was inches from mine. Her body still pressed against the throbbing pole in my pants. Our eyes locked in the awkward silence. Somewhere deep within my head, the Id pushed the Ego and Super Ego out, shoved his body against the door, locked it, and sighed in relief, sinking to the floor. It was at that point that I grabbed her hips and forced them harder against me, grinding up with my body as I did it. I craned my neck forward, grabbed her lip with my teeth and flicked my tongue against it as I sucked it into my mouth. 

Anna moaned into my mouth as I slid the length of myself against her with only a thin fabric between her and my jeans. She pressed her lips against mine and brought her hands down from my shoulders to rest on my chest. That lasted all of a few seconds before she ripped herself away from me, pushing against my torso with one hand as she pushed back the curly light brown hair out of her face.

"You've got a lot of nerve!" She screamed at me. I don't know why, but I could only smile. "I hate you." She spat out at me, but I could see it in her eyes, she didn't hate me, she wanted me. She just needed the right push to realize it. I applied pressure down on her hips again while pushing mine up. Her eyes fluttered up for a second before she regained her composure, then she sat there, staring at me. I watched as she fought herself, weighed her conscious, applied the slightest pressure against my chest with her hand, and then lost control. Her hand let go of the hair she was holding back and shot to the belt on my jeans, tearing it off with deft skill. Interesting... wouldn't had figured.

I reached up to grope her heavy chest as it hung over my body while she fumbled with the button and zipper on my pants. She yanked back, swatted my hands away, and shook her finger at me. "No touching." I threw my hands up in mock exasperation as she went back to taking off my jeans. After the fastenings were undone, she lifted up tilted forward and yanked them down. She then sat back down on me, but not before grabbing the sides of her dress and pulling them up to waist level. She grinded against me, the only thing between us were my boxers and a satin looking pair of lacey panties that were bikini cut to show all of her hips, half of her gorgeous ass, and looked to be all but see through except a small triangle in the lower front of them. She continued to rub herself on me, biting her lip every now and then, keeping her eyes clenched shut. I attempted to run my hands along her legs and she swatted them away again, so I stayed clenching the arm chairs. Apparently I was just a bystander now, albeit not at all innocent. She opened her eyes and desire flashed through them, she looked right at me and announced what I could already feel. 

"I'm very wet." She grabbed at the top of my boxers, lifted herself again and dragged them down to meet my jeans, still bunched around my knees. She rolled her eyes and looked at me, frustrated. "Kick them off." I looked at her, confused at first, but then she motioned back to the clothing around my knees. "Now."

"Yes ma'am." I was always happy to please. She reached down and pulled aside the thin black material still separating us and slid up and down my now exposed penis. She pulled back and grabbed ahold of me with her hand, squeezing the base with a pleasant pressure. She looked back up at me with one eye brow raised.

"Big." It was a statement. It wasn't a compliment, it wasn't a squeal of delight, and it wasn't an excited exclamation. She just stated a fact. Regardless, I responded.

"Thanks."

"Shut up." She let go of the base and stroked the entire length of me twice. It wasn't an enthusiastic act; she wasn't trying to please me. It almost looked like she was testing it. This was an uncharted area for me. What exactly was she trying to figure out? As far I knew, mine worked just as good as any other. Before I could ask, she leaned down, and without any precursor wrapped her lips around me and slid her tongue all the way down the shaft. I gasped out loud, my hand shot to grab the back of her head but I somehow managed to quickly restrain it back to the arm rest. I didn't want to break any of her rules while her teeth were so close to my most coveted body part. She sucked in her cheeks and brought herself all the way back up to the tip, only to tilt her head at a slightly different angle and take me into her mouth again, this time running her tongue down the side of my shaft.

She did this a few more excruciating times, each time bobbing into a different angle with her head. I fidgeted, gasped, and whimpered each time, fighting the urge to grab her everywhere, anywhere. I was slightly relieved when she removed me from her mouth, but immediately missed the feel of her lips pressing against me, the sides of her mouth gliding down the sides of me, and her tongue applying a liberal amount of pressure against the underside of my aching cock. She leaned back again, and grabbed ahold of me. This time when she stroked me, her hand glided over my glistening cock, slick with her saliva. I think I saw her smile slightly. 

"Much better." Then she reached around my hard on, pulled it back away from my stomach, rubbed the soft pink flesh between her legs until she found the opening and, without ceremony, pushed herself down upon it. She stifled a moan, keeping her eyes closed and a hand on my chest to keep her balance as she bottomed out on top of me. For someone who hated me so much, she had an odd way of showing it. 

I took in the sight of her on top of me as she sat there, completely still. She had a small thin trail of light brown hair that begged to be followed. Inside, she was hot, so much so that the heat was radiating on to my thighs and hips. She was also wet, much wetter than I had originally imagined. She finally opened her eyes and looked at me.

"Don't think this means I like you." Her face wore a warning, suggesting I should consider the consequences of making such assumptions.

"Wherever would I get that idea?" Turns out I was getting laid after all, blood flow was scarce, and the first thing to go on skeleton staff was my brain. Needless to say, sarcasm was my default setting in life.

"Shut up, you're ruining my good mood." She leaned back as she said it, placing her hands on my knees, changing the angle of insertion. 

"Shit, this is you're good mood? I can only imagine what a bad mood looks like." She didn't even look at me, she stared at the ceiling and moved forward and back once with her hips.

"Keep it up and you'll find out." She slowly moved back and forth three times in succession. She waited a few seconds, her neck and face slightly pink now at the pricking anticipation. Then again, this time with more force. I licked my lips at the change in pressure. 

"Mmm... yeah baby, harder." The slow rocking made me want more, I wanted to grab her hips and put a little bounce in her movement, but I seemed to be banned from touching her with anything that wasn't my penis.

"I'm not very interested in what you want." She stated matter-of-factly as she dropped her gaze from the ceiling and again moved her hips back and forth slowly.

"Take it as a suggestion then, I guarantee you'll like it." The resulting smile she gave me let me know she wasn't buying it. I sighed as she continued to rock against me. Each rocking motion of her body tilted me, pressing me harder into an area that was quite possibly the fabled g-spot, and as she slowly moved back and forth I slid against it. The resulting small flicks gave a small quick pleasing sensation toward the tip of my buried member that had me wanting more. 




Body Language



Anna, however, had all she needed. Her eyes were clenched shut and she was biting her lip as she continued to move on top of me. She was practiced and methodical with her movements, she clearly knew exactly what she wanted, and how to get it; I was just along for the ride. I couldn't move, I couldn't touch, I couldn't speak, and it was driving me crazy. She brought her hands to her chest and groped herself a few times before stopping all movement together. She stared at me for a few moments before leaning forward, placing both hands on my shoulders. 

"Be a doll Jack, unzip my dress for me." I wanted to tell her no, as she sat there controlling the pace and movement clearly intended mostly for her pleasure, which would normally be fine. I'm not a selfish lover, I enjoy pleasing, but I usually have some sort of guarantee that there will be reciprocation later on; I wasn't so sure with Anna. Then again, her dress was in the way of what I assumed was a fantastic view, so there was incentive. Oh, what the hell, I could be a gentleman and take her dress off for her. Who said chivalry is dead?

I reached around her body and slid my hands up her back until I found the zipper, I kept eye contact with her the whole time, I didn't smile, but she knew I was happy to help. She smiled, but only because she knew she was enjoying herself and also reigning torture down upon me simultaneously. I popped the catch and dragged down the zipper, the sound cutting through the tense silence as her back was exposed to the air. Once I reached the bottom of the zipper, near where her lower back would be if she didn't have it hiked up, she reached down and pulled the entire thing over her head in one fluid motion. If I had blinked, I would have missed it.

Now she sat on top of me with only those lacey panties she had pulled aside, and a matching lacey bra: sheer, black, and mostly see through. I was more interested in what the bra was covering however. I wanted to see her chest, kiss them, lick them, suck on them... and they were behind that damn bra. Realizing my frustration, Anna sat straight up again, and reached around to undue the bra. She smiled coyly at me as she shrugged off the straps and held the bra up with alternating hands as she removed her arms from their restraint. When she was the only thing holding the bra up, she carefully tucked her hands into each cup and slid the bra down, the entire time shielding the view from me in such a way that television censors would be jealous of. 

"Thank you, this is so much better." She said as started rocking back and forth again in her up right position and held each full breast in her hands, massaging them with clear enjoyment. I considered strangling her for a second, just a second, as she breathed heavily on top of me. The rocking movements were applied with more pressure and speed as she groped her naked chest in front of me. I felt my throbbing cock jerk inside of her each time she rolled her hips on me, and I desperately wanted to let go of the considerable amount of self-control it was taking not to grab ahold of her and start pounding away. She was effectively getting off, while ensuring that I would only get harder and thicker, only to leave me high and dry long before I found release.

She leaned further back and started to move in more fluid motions as her breath got raged. I couldn't help but think how fast she had reached this point, I knew she was sexually frustrated, but deprived too? That's just criminal. She massaged each of her breasts, pushing them together and rubbing against her nipples, I'm sure they were hard, but I couldn't see a damn thing. Her face grew flush, her eyes were clenched shut again and she was biting her lip. I grabbed onto the arm chair and focused all my energy on making my cock as rigid as possible. The sudden change in pressure within her seemed to be well met as she gasped slightly and I felt her squeeze against my cock in return. Her skin went blotchy from her neck to her waist, and her face screwed itself up a bit as she pushed harder down on top of me and gave several quick jerks in rapid succession and squeezed at her own chest more aggressively. She sucked in air through her nose and held her breath as her body jerked back and forth on me as she climbed closer to release. 

What happened next left me confused. I was expecting... I don't know... more. As she reached climax, she simply stopped moving. One second she was grinding against me in quick movements, holding her breath, fighting off orgasm, the next, she was done. She released her breath in a slow soft sigh, she relaxed her features, loosened her muscles throughout her body all at once, no longer clenching herself around my poor suffering dick, and stopped massaging her chest, but still cupped them from my prying eyes. When she opened her eyes, and saw my confusion, she gave a quick laugh and shook her head at me.

"Sorry, but this is where the train stops, there'll be no more for you."

"That wasn't what I wa-" But she cut me off before I could draw her attention back to her anti-climactic climax.

"What? Wasn't what you wanted, Jack? That's too bad. How does it feel to be used?" For a woman who just rode me to orgasm a few seconds ago, she still seemed pretty tightly wound. I don't think that's how it's supposed to work. I was originally concerned about the lack of fireworks surrounding her finish, but now I was just irritated.

"That wasn't what I was going to say-" I started to protest, but she cut in again, apparently she thought it was fun to criticize me after sex. Some people like cigarettes, some people want to gouge with words. I vaguely recalled learning that some spiders eat their male after sex. To each their own.

"I could replace you with a thick length of rubber and have just as much fun." She sneered.

Oh. I see. Here I was, basically restricted to sitting under her while she treated me like a sex a toy, only to have her tell me I am about as useful as one. That's it. 

"Could a thick length of rubber do... this?" I jerked my thighs up and then quickly pushed down into the cushion of the chair, catching her off guard and removing a few inches of myself from her before quickly pushing back up into her.

"Jack!" She exclaimed. It was more surprise than anything else. Then she shook her head and glared at me. "Don't."

"No?" I did it again, harder this time. I figured if she wasn't going to finish what she started, I could at least knock her off balance enough for her to let go of her tits. Those were a sight worth seeing.

"Jack..." It was a warning this time. 

"Yes?" I answered as if she had called my name from across the room, ignoring the warning completely and bouncing her again. This time I pushed my hips forward knocking her toward me. She let go of her chest and grabbed my shoulders to keep balance. Bingo. Those glorious round pink nipples were a sight for sore eyes; they practically begged to be nipped at and licked. 

"Jack! Will you cut it out!?" She pushed back up right and made to slap me, but I grabbed her hand and made a quick lick at her nipple before she pulled away from me and leaned back, holding my knees to keep from toppling backwards.

"No." It was a statement. I punctuated it with another thrust at a similar angle she had used earlier.

"Jack." There was no warning in her voice this time. There was no emotion at all, she just said my name.

"Yes?" I asked, thrusting twice more. Her eyes fluttered slightly, she bit her lip, and she tightened her grip on my knees.

"Yes." She said it softly with pleasure in her voice. I took it as permission to continue.

I moved slowly in and out of her, each time pressing deep inside at her desired angle and producing audible notes of pleasure from her. She seemed lost in the physical stimulation, so I grabbed her hips and rolled them back and forth, pulling her into speed with each thrust.

"Yes... yes yes yes..." She moaned the words in excitement as she remembered her motor skills and began to move her body with the direction I took her hips in, our movements running together.

"See? Isn't this better darling?" I didn't want to be cocky, but I had to get a 'told you so' in there somewhere.

"Not now... later. Please... more." Her mood didn't alter at all, she kept moving on top of me, pressing harder, completely dismissing my comment.

"As you command." I grabbed ahold of her hips and started rocking them faster, pushing deeper each time, willing myself to fill her completely and hit every angle she needed. 

Orgasm for men is easy: grab, shake well for 5 minutes, rinse, repeat as needed. Women are a bit more complicated, don't get out your pens and paper here folks, I'm not claiming to be an expert, but I've learned a few things. Most importantly is that every woman is different, and therefor requires different approaches. Common sense, right? Even if they can orgasm on any given technique, it's good to know which one gets them off the hardest. Once you find it, exploit it for all it's worth, I promise the end result is in everybody's best interest. Now, while Anna definitely enjoyed this, I wanted to show her a few tricks I had learned to see if the sample platter had anything she wanted more of. 

I kicked the chair's foot rest down and grabbed Anna as she started falling back, swooping her up before she fell onto the ground, staying inside her the whole time. She cried out in surprise as I did it, and I couldn't help but smile. Payback is a bitch, and she had it coming for her little stunt. I lifted her so that she had half of me inside of her, and moved her legs around my back so that she could help me keep her in place. I licked at each of her nipples, lathering them with my tongue, occasionally nipping at them with my teeth, careful to be gentle. Anna pushed her hips down and clung onto my shoulders burying me inside her again before using her legs to lift back up slightly, if slowly. Impressive to say the least, she was determined, I liked that. I leaned back, grabbed her hips and helped her continue her journey up and down all seven and a half (hell yeah I count that) inches of cock.

She apparently enjoyed this much more than I anticipated, because as we moved our bodies together, and my tongue flicked at her glistening nipples she grabbed the back of my head with one hand and pushed my face against her chest hard. Good, I like a girl who knows what she wants. I rewarded her by sucking her nipple into my mouth and pressing my tongue hard against it, giving long licks and applying as much pressure as I could with my tongue. She moaned out load and pushed down so that my shaft was buried inside of her, but made no movement to rise back up. 

I continued to suck and lick her chest as I walked to the couch and then I threw her down on it. She looked up at me, disappointed the wonderful sensations had ceased, but her cries of protests changed to cries of pleasure as I sat down between her legs and began licking the sweet pink flesh there. I lifted each of her legs and set them over my shoulders so that her hips angled further up, giving me more room to work with. I wanted to show her a few things about pleasure. She moaned her appreciation as I swirled my tongue around her clit, taking long licks up and down the entire length of her wet pussy. I started flicking at her clit sharply with my tongue and then changed speeds to slow massaging circles. I did this back and forth and felt her leg muscles tighten up, I was closely watching for any sign that one was favored over the other, a jerk of the knee, a pointing of the toes, but she seemed to be lost in the thrall of it all. 

Instead of continuing my analytical observations of her sexual arousal, I buried my face deep between her legs, sticking my tongue inside of her and thrusting as much as I could with it. She responded by grabbing ahold of my head with her hands, crossing her feet, bending her legs and pushing them against my back, effectively locking me into place. I think we have a winner. I continued to slide my tongue in and out of her as fast I could, nuzzling my face against her so that my lips rubbed the outside of her.

"Do you like that baby?" I asked her before I remembered that I was tongue deep inside of her, so it came out a garbled mumble. Sex makes me stupid, apparently.

"Don't stop! Lick... now, talk... later." She panted out. Well, since she asked nicely. I increased my speed and push my face into her now bucking hips as much as I could, lapping up juices that slid on to my tongue. She tasted delicious, which only drove my desire to lick more, harder, and faster. Her hips were full on grinding against my face now and she clawed at the back of my neck with her hands and squeezed her legs around my face. She started crying out sharply with each insertion of my tongue and grabbed the hair on the back of my head again. This time, I didn't mind. 

"Yes... yes... yes, yes, yes... yesyesyesyes..." She was getting louder with her cries, and I think she may have left a few scatch marks on the back of my neck. She was clearly close to another orgasm, but I had other plans. I tore myself out from her clutches, which was actually harder than I thought it would be.

"No... no no no... why?" She pleaded with me, grasping the air in front of her and pulling it back at her like it would magically draw me back. I backed up a few feet and stood in front of her, still erect. I looked at her calmly and smiled softly before pointing down at my engorged cock, still very much in need of a release.

"I believe you owe me an apology." I said. "I would apprec-" Before I could finish she had leaned herself forward off the couch, grabbed ahold of my hips, pushed her whole mouth down upon me, and pulled me forward in front of the couch where she sat down again and started to run her lips up and down the entire length of my shaft. 

"I... uh... appreciate... would like... uh... apology... uhmmm... mmmmmmmm... yeah." Damn that felt good.

She removed my dick from her mouth and looked up at me. "I'm sorry." She said it in with an innocent ring to her voice, but the mischievous glint in her eyes, and the way she held my throbbing cock against the side of her cheek ruined the attempt. She licked me from top to bottom, slowly, applying pressure with her tongue, fondling the base of my cock as she did it, and keeping eye contact the entire time. I almost came right there. 

"Please forgive me?" She asked in the same innocent voice. I could only nod my head. "Good." She said, and then like a magic trick, my dick disappeared in her mouth again. Her lips and tongue did things I didn't even know were possible. Think of the best blowjob you have ever had or heard about, now multiply it by 50. She applied pressure with her lips as the slid them up and down me, her tongue kept a slight curve in it that accepted my pulsing rod readily. Every time she brought her head back to the tip, she would flick her tongue over me and when I was sure she was going to remove her lips from me, she would greedily suck me in again. It was almost like being in heaven, but better.

I didn't want to stop her, but I didn't know how much longer I could last, so I pulled back and without giving her time to protest, I picked her up off the ground and plopped her down on the couch again. I placed her on the side of couch, lying across it with her hips and ass on top of the arm rest. I grabbed her legs and held them up, adjusting her hips so they pointed at a much steeper upwards angle. She moved her arms underneath her to help arch her back and hips upwards and I pushed as deep inside of her as I could, running my cock the entire way up against her inner flesh, feeling her hot dripping wet insides accept every inch I had to offer.

I couldn't help myself, instinct took over and my hips and legs almost moved to their own accord as I pulled almost all the way out and then thrust deep, hard, and fast back inside. I pushed and I moaned and I called out her name as I grasped her legs and shoved myself in her over and over and over. She pushed up from the couch, willing herself closer to me. I let go of one leg and placed my hand on her stomach so that my thumb pressed against her clit and pressed firmly while I moved it in circles. Cries of pleasure and passion rang throughout the entire apartment.

I felt myself getting closer, and I intensified each trust, pushing as deep as I could and our bodies made a slapping sound every time we fully connected each clap punctuated by her screaming out my name. She was now actively lifting her hips up, pushing with her arms upwards and arching her back with each trust. I felt her tighten around me and her body went completely rigid, I kept thrusting against the resistance her body was supplying. She moved her arms out from under her, causing her body to fall down a little and change the angle of my insertion, as she gripped my forearms locked at either side of her hips now. Her nails dug in as I pounded as forcefully as I could, her body begging for more. She cried out a long moan that reverberated each time I slammed forward and then suddenly stopped again as her whole body shook, her back completely arched, and her mouth wrenched open in a silent scream. I felt warm fluid rush around my cock and drip down my shaft, pushing me over the edge. 

"Oh fuck!" I moaned. My cock became hard as chiseled rock, and I felt a burning sensation at the base. I pushed myself away from Anna and turned away, gripping myself as tight as I could to hold the eruption at bay as I spun. I stopped and pumped once before a thick white stream forced its way through me and shot out several feet in front of me. I almost lost my balance as I spent the rest of it in several jerks that left me gasping. I bent over slightly resting my hands on my knees and caught my breath. When I had the strength to move again, I turned to see Anna sitting on the edge of the couch, staring at me with contempt in her eyes. 

You have got to be joking me. There is no possible way she could still be mad. She proved me wrong by standing up and marching toward me with fire in her eyes. I stepped back and put my hands up, but she was already on me, shoving me back. I walked several more steps backwards, trying to keep space between us when she shoved me again and I tripped on something behind me. I fell back and down onto the carpet and looked up in time to see that damn magazine basket that had tripped me. Then my view of the basket was cut off by Anna sinking down to her knees between my legs and sucking my semi-hard dick into her mouth. 

I didn't have words; I just shook my head completely dumbfounded. My eyes must have been wide as golf balls as I watched her bob her head up and down on my cock, making wet swishing sounds each time. Defying things I had previously thought about my body, I was hard again. She kept bobbing up and down, putting her hands under me and grabbing both butt cheeks to push me forward. Saliva lathered around her lips and dripped to the base of my cock. Then she tilted her head forward and pushed her mouth down around me again, her tongue sliding against it the whole way down, when she reached as far down as she could she used her tongue to lick what hadn't fit in her mouth. Then she tilted her head back and brought me out of her mouth, again her tongue running across me. She repeated this a handful of times before she began bobbing her head again, taking in only the first inch or two over and over as fast I thought she could.

The pleasure was so intense I had to grab the back of her hair and pull her up. As soon as I got her off she shoved my hand away, and without even looking at me started bobbing again in the same manner. Every muscle in my body tightened at the sensation and I fought to stay still until I couldn't take it anymore and I again grabbed her hair, this time more forcefully, and pulled her up. I tried to protest, but I couldn't form words, I could barely breathe. She again shoved my hand away, shot me a glare, and began again. She actually glared at me! I again felt my muscles burning at the restraint it took not to squirm out of my skin. I couldn't bare it and this time I took both hands and pushed her down my shaft, forcing her to make longer strokes with her tongue. I kept pushing her down and she kept fighting back up to focus on that area. It was a game of tug of war until at some point I somehow started pushing her down and pulling her back up as well.