5 comments/ 33875 views/ 1 favorites On Top By: msgimply On Top: A narrative from Ms. Gimply's collection. I rolled my wheelchair into the board room. It was the first meeting since I had been appointed Chief Executive Officer of the company. I was elated. Since the appointment I had been secretly practicing the words. "CEO," I said to myself, "Laura Brackett, CEO. Hi. I'm Laura the Chief Executive Officer." The board had selected me in the wake of the accounting scandal that had toppled the previous top management and led to the criminal indictment of Harry Mueller, the former Vice President for Finance. He was facing several charges of fraud and a whole list of other things. It was an especially sweet victory to see Harry fall from grace. My spirit was especially soaring because I had just opened the Christmas card from Paul and his family. Their picture smiled out at me and, as usual, they melted my heart. There was dear, sweet Paul, older but still youthful, still thoughtful and reserved. His wife was a beautiful woman and was beginning to look just a bit matronly. Then there were their three lovely children - the children who called me Aunt Laura on the rare occasions that I saw them. Paul, their letter said, was now chief attorney in the public defender's office. I smiled. That was typical of Paul who had forsaken business for the law. Inevitably, I thought about the office holiday party all those years ago. It had been almost exactly a year since the accident that had cost me my legs. I was fortunate that it did not cost my life as well. I had no memory of the night I spent in my overturned and demolished car before they found me the next day. I recovered from the concussion over the next few days. Broken arms and ribs as well as my broken pelvis were treatable and I healed slowly. But the first few weeks were a series of progressively higher amputations trying to save what remained of my legs in a futile battle against gangrene and infection. The end result was their complete removal at the hips (a procedure that the surgeons call Double Hip Disarticulation). There was nothing left to accommodate prosthetic legs. I had lost six months of work in the hospital and in rehabilitation. Not only did I lose the time but when I returned I sensed that I had lost a part of my hard earned status in the company. Before the accident, I had relied on my tall and slim presence to quietly dominate and get my way. I had dressed just a bit sternly with lots of black and austere tailoring. I augmented my height with heels and could command most any situation. I was confident that my star was rising. When I came back, I was sure the tables had been turned I was in a wheelchair and, by definition, shorter than everyone else. I didn't seem to be a threat to anyone or even an influence on them. Some people pitied me in a condescending way. A few actually teased me. Harry Mueller was especially obnoxious. He started calling me ‘Shorty.' When I objected, he claimed that he was only being affectionate and that I should be able to take a joke. I hated the bastard and longed for revenge. I couldn't think of a way to get it. Paul was the only bright spot in the first six months after I returned. He was assigned to me for a semester as a full time intern from the business school. The school believed - correctly, I think - that practical experience should be a part of education. Paul had a quiet charm and didn't seem to assert himself until you watched him closely. For one thing, he was unfailingly considerate and respectful to the secretaries and file clerks. The result was that they looked out for him. His reports were always flawlessly typed. He had all the information in the firm at his fingertips. I learned by watching him that people on the bottom can help you (and hurt you) even more than people on top. It is a lesson I never forgot. Paul had uncanny powers of observation. He could see infallibly who was in trouble in the firm and who was ascending. He could intuit the dynamics of relationships and use them to get things accomplished without seeming to manipulate. I came to appreciate his skills gradually during the semester. What surprised me the most was the ways that he protected me. First there were little ways. I never had to juggle coffee and bagels from the cafeteria. He always timed his appetite to match mine and did my carrying as well as his own. If we left the headquarters for a meeting with a client, he always knew in advance where the ramps were as well as the accessible restrooms. We never spoke about it - it just happened. More important, he found ways to postpone my decisions when I was not at my best. I was not at my best much of the time in those days as I was often angry, confused and conflicted. He would plead that he needed to provide me with more information or would uncharacteristically delay reports that he owed me. Sometimes, when I left a meeting and returned to the office, fuming because I had not had my way, he would listen to me for a while and then say, "Let it go, Ms. Brackett. Tomorrow is another day." Then I would laugh and unwind a bit. Much later, I figured out that he never let me make important decisions in the two days before my menstrual period. Long after he was gone, I actually set my logs and my personal diary side by side to compare them. Sure enough, from his second month on the job, he seemed to have my cycle pegged. Of course, we have never spoken of it. His last day at the office was the Friday afternoon of the annual holiday party. I remember that I was in a particularly odd mood that day. For one thing, Paul was leaving the company. Another thing was that I was dreading interacting socially with all those people who didn't respect me. I especially dreaded talking to that son of a bitch, Harry. I began the festivities by visiting the punch bowl more often than I should. It made the afternoon a bit more bearable, but my self control suffered. I could see Paul hovering nearby. As the alcohol warmed the occasion, the joking began. Inevitably, some of the secretaries were coaxed to bare their bottoms and sit on the photocopier for portraits of their nether parts. None of them complied. I marveled at the seeming good humor in enduring the harassment. The most insistent was Harry the swine. I knew that the secretaries called him "Dirty Harry" behind his back. After the secretaries managed to escape, Harry turned to me. "Hey, Shorty," he said, "Take off your undies so we can take your picture. I'll bet that with your legs gone we can get a really spectacular view." In a sudden insight, I realized how I had handled him and those like him in the old days. I would draw myself to my full height and press my legs together in a symbolic resistance to violation. Now, I wasn't tall any more and I had no legs. And I was mad as hell. Harry, the asshole, had found my limit. I didn't give a shit anymore about my future in the company. I only wanted to lash out at the prick. I drew back my arm to throw my drink in his face. Before I could act on my impulse I heard Paul's uncharacteristically loud voice. He made a strong disparaging remark about the New York Yankees. Harry was a sports nut and a diehard, obnoxious Yankee fan. His attention turned from me to Paul. Harry began a diatribe about lowly interns. Paul remained calm with a little smile on his face as he absorbed Harry's drunken abuse. Paul had saved me again I calmed down a bit and wheeled back to the punch bowl. After that, every time I spotted Harry, I found that Paul was standing somewhere between us. He didn't make a show of it. He was just there and protecting me. It felt good. Harry and his cronies had left. I had outlasted the jerk - at least at the party. I picked up my coat in my office and headed to the elevator and the parking garage. Paul intercepted me. "Ms. Brackett," he said, "Let me drive you home. I'll bring you back tomorrow to get your car." I knew he was right. I was more than a bit tipsy. I was still getting used to the hand controls and driving sober was challenge enough. I said, "I'll let you drive me on one condition." He looked at me quizzically. "You have to call me Laura." I pouted. It was the stupid company rule that everyone below my level - like Paul and the secretaries - were not allowed to address top ranking superiors by their first names. At my level and above, we were allowed to do so for one level above us. That is how I could call Harry by his name and Paul had to call me Ms. Bartlett. "No problem, Laura," he said. We set off down the elevator to the garage and his car. I slid into the seat. He folded my chair and put it in the trunk. He returned to fasten my seat belt - I had forgotten even to try. I guess I was tipsy. As we drove out of the garage I began a long diatribe about Harry, the son of a bitch. After I had vented my complaints, Paul said simply, "Out wait him." "What do you mean," I demanded. "Mueller only gets ahead by intimidating people and then using them. He's not really very clever. And he's not honest either. He'll trip himself up in the long run. I guarantee it." "But he is in my way," I cried. "He'll keep me from getting ahead. I'll go before he does." "No," he said. "You're too good. You are a really fine executive. You know how to use people in a good way. I've watched you do it with me. You bring us all up and give us credit for our work. Harry doesn't do that. He'll fall and you will rise. Believe me." I wanted desperately to believe him. "In the mean time," he said, "Just let it go." I smiled. I directed him to my apartment building. I fumbled for the card that would let us into the garage. He pulled into my parking space. He retrieved my chair and I slid into it. At the elevator I could clearly manage for myself. He knew that and stood as if he was about to leave. I looked up at him and said, "Please push me to my place." We entered the elevator. I pressed the button for my floor. At my door, I said, "Come in for a drink. I don't want to be alone just now." He came. Inside, I broke out a bottle of Chivas Regal and a pair of glasses. "I'm not drunk enough, yet. And I want you to drink with me." He demurred. " I have to drive," he replied. "Sleep on my couch if you can't drive. Your car is safe in the garage." I softened my voice a bit. "Please stay." We drank. I bitched about Harry. He listened. He continued to reassure me that I was good at what I did. He told me to let it go. I wasn't satisfied with his reassurance. I went on to complain that in addition to my trouble at work I wasn't really a woman since my accident. By then I was really sloshed. I asked him to hold me. He drew me from my chair to the couch and held me close. He felt good. I started to cry. He drew me even closer. "Please, love me," I sobbed. "Laura," he said, "I would like that, but we are both drunk and don't know our own minds. Let's see what tomorrow brings." He held me and rocked me. In the morning I woke to the smell of coffee. I inhaled deeply and luxuriated in it for just a moment. Almost immediately I became of my dry mouth and my headache. I had a vague recollection of him carrying me to bed. He appeared at the door of my bedroom. He was dressed in tee shirt and boxers and didn't seem self conscious about it. "Hi," he inquired, "Do you want your coffee the usual way?" "No" I protested, " Not this morning. Black, no sugar," "That's what I thought," he said as he brought it on a tray with orange juice and toast. He had found his way around my kitchen. "I'm sorry about last night," I told him. "Thanks for taking care of me. I needed that." He only grinned and said, "No problem. I like taking care of you." I sat, propped by pillows, on the bed, with my cup cradled in my hands. "This is another day," I told him with my eyes averted, "but I still need some care." Then I became acutely aware that I was wearing yesterday's rumpled clothes and the remnants of yesterday's makeup. My hair must have looked like a fright wig. How could I be coming on to a man looking like that? "I need to get cleaned up," I told him. "You can help me." I had formed a plan. I had not used the bathtub since my accident. Every day, I had transferred to the seat in the shower, pushed my chair away and then bathed as a sort of grim duty. Now I wanted to soak and I needed him to help me. "Please, fill the tub for me," I requested. "There may be some bath salts in the cabinet. I can't remember. And put the shampoo and conditioner by the tub, too." When he had left, I undressed as quickly as I could and transferred to my chair. I followed him to the bathroom where the air was already thick with steam. I tried not to think about what I was doing. No one (except doctors and nurses) had seen me naked since the accident. Paul smiled a bit but didn't seem surprised as I rolled in the door. I placed my chair so that my left side was next to the tub and removed the arm rest. Still trying not to be self conscious, I said, "If I do this myself, I'm likely to fall on my face and drown." Without being asked, he came behind me and put his arms under mine. He clasped his hands above my breasts while I joined my hands over his. He easily lifted me to the side of the tub and sat behind me there. Then he lowered me into the warm and scented water and laid me on my back. The water level was low enough to leave my face free but high enough to lap at the sides of my breasts and to tease and tickle. The sensation of warmth between my legs - or what used to be my legs - was a welcome surprise. I was flooded with the sense that I was a woman, a sensual and vulnerable woman. And I couldn't deny it any more by clamping my legs together and standing tall to defend my boundaries. With Paul there, it was a good and safe feeling and I surrendered to it. I noted with pleasure that the scars at my hips were not as red and angry looking as they were the last time I inspected them. I was really healing. Paul sat on the rim of the tub and said nothing. I tried to sit up by lifting myself with my arms. My bottom slid out from under me and I was flat on my back again. I giggled a bit. "Paul," I asked, "Please get in here with me and help me sit up. You'll fit. I've left you with plenty of leg room." I giggled some more at my own joke. I watched as he shed his tee shirt and boxers. His body was as handsome as I had suspected. He was slender and muscular. His penis was fully erect. He lifted me to a sitting position and slipped in behind me, cradling me in his arms. He reached forward to open the tap and more warm water surrounded us. "Paul, Paul, sweet Paul," I crooned as I rocked in his arms. He nuzzled my ear and whispered, "Sweet Laura," in response. "I haven't been with a man since my accident," I told him shyly. His hand stroked my breast and I felt like I was melting into a warm sensuous puddle. "Yeah," he replied simply, "I figured." At my request he reached for the removable shower head. I soaked my hair and slowly shampooed. All the while his arms were around me and gently stroking.. As I rinsed my hair, he fondled my breasts. I wanted the moment to last forever. He leaned me forward on one arm and began to wash my back with the other. He rinsed me and the shower head sprinkled little tickles along my spine. His hand lowered to my hip. I felt him trace the line of my scar. I was surprised that I liked it. He shifted to the other hip and I waited for the inevitable. With other lovers, my ultimate sense of autonomy was the knowledge that I could clamp my legs together and shut them out. I didn't do that very often, but the knowledge that I could was a source of power. Now I felt as vulnerable as I could possibly be. I succumbed to it as his hand parted my labia and began to make little circular motions. I laid back and I accepted. Inevitably, his fingers found my clitoris between the folds. I laid back in his arms and breathed deeply of the perfume of the water. I gloried that I had no more legs to close. I climaxed quickly and twisted around him to face him. I kissed him long and hard on the mouth. "Take me to bed," I told him. I hadn't intended it to sound like an order. He left the tub as I clung to the side for support. At my direction, He spread a large bath towel over my chair. He lifted me and wrapped me in the towel. He retrieved a smaller towel to wrap my hair. He pushed my chair to the bed. I sprawled there with my towel open. He lay down beside me and drew me to him. He was inside me immediately and my second orgasm came soon and strong. He continued with a slow and persistent rhythm. "Roll over," I demanded, "I want to be on top." He complied. He was still in me. I raised myself with my arms and hands came to rest on his chest. Without legs to steady me I almost fell backwards. He raised his knees a bit to support me. Now, I was on top. I reveled in it. I looked at him from high above and I felt a thrill of domination. I found that without legs I could not rise and fall on him. But I could twist and pivot and feel his coarse hair scratching my clitoris and everything around it. His cock twisting inside me tortured me to new heights. Now I was oblivious to him and to anything but my passion. My twisting, back and forth motion, was like what you would use to extinguish a cigarette butt on the sidewalk with your shoe. Then, I thought, it was like killing a bug or some other obnoxious creature and I writhed even harder. It was a mistake to think about obnoxious creatures because, unbidden, Harry came to mind. I imagined that I was grinding and stomping on his face. Briefly, a picture flashed. His face was on the copying machine and I was sitting on top. "You bastard," I cried, perhaps aloud. I drove down as hard as I could. I heard my voice almost laughing as my breath came as "ha -- ha -- ha." From a long way away, I heard Paul saying, "Let it go, Ms. Brackett. Let it all out." His voice quavered, telling me that he was about to let it out himself. It drove me to a frenzy. I pushed and twisted to squash the loathsome thing under me. My body exploded. My scream - more of a high pitched growl - filled the room. Liquid sprayed from me and joined his. I imagined the loathsome thing exploded and its slime squirted out and it drowned in its own puddle. I rejoiced. I had won. Harry was just a puddle now. I was on top. I was a winner. I savored it for a time. But then, "Oh -- my -- God," I mouthed silently, "What -- have -- I -- done?" I was on top of Paul, sweet Paul. I had made a fool of myself. I couldn't face him. I kept my eyes closed and held myself perfectly still. The only sound in the room, was my still husky breath. He broke the silence. I heard him in the most innocent and dead-pan voice asking, "Was it good for you?" I opened my eyes and laughed. I twisted on him a few more times and moaned a bit at the sensation. Then I let myself down on him. He embraced me and I nuzzled his ear. "Sweet Paul, you dear man. You dear, sweet, sweet man," I whispered. It was Sunday morning when we went to retrieve my car from the company garage. As I transferred from his car to my chair, Harry appeared, apparently coming from the office. I was sure that he was up to no good. He was not the type to work on Sunday. I was certain that he had been doing something that he did not want anyone else to know about. I made a mental note to snoop about and to find out what was going on. As he saw Paul and me, he leered and asked, "Working on the weekend?" "Sure, Harry," I said, staring him down. Slowly I added, "Just like you." He had no hold on me. I was determined to bring him down. On Monday morning I got to the office early with resolve and energy that I hadn't had since the accident. I threw myself into the work. The week was pure joy. On Top I'm a size two who runs five times a week, lifts weights just enough to give my arms definition without bulk, I have full B-cups. This is a true story. * I was always on top. In high school, in college, school, and even now. But I'd never been on top like this before. Fucking forty-three floors above the pavement, in the penthouse condo of a new luxury building in the city, on top of my new boyfriend, with lights on staring up at the ceiling. I'd only known him a month, we'd only dated for two, and having only had sex with two other guys in my life, Josh was by far the fastest to succeed. We'd met at the firm, we were both first year associates and met at orientation. He'd pursued pretty hard, and I'd avoided him. But I was new to the city, and he was persistent and then charming, and I'd wondered earlier that day whether I was falling in love with him. Josh played with me at first, taking my clothes off without letting me touch anything. Not the buttons on my clothes and certainly not him. He had me naked on the floor, wondering how far I would let this go, thinking whether I could stand the cold hard wood floors, and then he was kissing me anywhere but my mouth. My neck, my breasts, my legs. He was rubbing my legs, I could feel my self glistening with sweat and anticipation. And then he kissed my lips as he slipped a finger inside me. And as he finger fucked me, slowly and then slowly faster, he let me touch him. I was frantic to tear his clothes off, I was soaking wet, he was pushing me closer...closer. I tore his shirt with my first orgasm. I was out of control. He got out of his clothes, and I lay panting beneath him, breathless in anticipation. He was larger than the other two I'd been with. He slid in slowly and despite his girth and my tightness, effortlessly, because I was soaking. We'd fucked on the floor, and then we fucked on his mahogany table and then when I finally got him to beneath me, his back on the table, I fucked him on the table and felt my self building again. He was pounding me from below and I was grinding him from above. The thin layer of sweat around me was burning, I could feel him pressing me closer and closer. I put one hand on his chest, leaned back, grabbed my breast with the other and screamed at the ceiling as I came, and came and came. The waves subsided as he continued fucking me. I grinned at looked down at him. He grabbed my hips and started really fucking me now, my tits were all other the place, I was moaning— Through my reflection in the window I saw a light flicker on. A man was staring at me, from a room a few floors down, in a different building across the street. The man was smiling. Josh asked me to get on all fours. I was soaking, I was still high from my last orgasm, and I was still staring at the stranger across the night. I'd never been taken doggie style, had always flat out refused because it was demeaning, but without a word I arched my ass in the air, face resting on my hands in front of me, staring at the stranger waiting for Josh to fuck me. 'Do me doggie style,' I thought. As Josh got behind me, the light in the other room flicked off, and I could only make out the stranger's outline because I knew where to look. Josh slipped slowly inside me, almost as if asking me if this was alright. The stranger looked to be taking off his pants, and I slide back into Josh. Of course it was ok. Fuck me. Fuck me for the stranger. I wanted the whole world to cum. Josh grabbed my hips and started again, my body slapped against him in a beautiful rhythm. I could see the stranger jerking his arm. Josh was pounding me harder. "God baby." I goaded him. "God baby, fuck your baby." He grunted. I could feel myself building again, Josh turned me over roughly, fucked me a few more strokes and pulled out. He climbed up toward me, took my hands to his dick and started jerking. His dick was over my tits and pointed toward my face, I understood. I jerked him as fast as I could, and wondered about the stranger. His first shot hit my hair just above my forehead, and streamed across my face, I closed my eyes and could feel hot loads on my chin and dripping on my tits. I unconsciously rubbed the cum into my chest and wondered what had just happened to me. When he was done, he announced he was taking a shower, hopped off and left me on the table. I knew he'd lost respect for me. I knew I'd been too dirty, not at all who I'd led him on to think I was (not at all who I thought I was). I knew he thought I was a slut. You don't cum in the face of your future wife. I got off the table and looked out at the other apartment. The light flickered on, and the man winked at me. Puzzled with myself, I winked back. * Next time I came over it was straight from work, in my expensive business suit, and Josh hadn't even taken me out to dinner. We started fucking and I insisted we fucked on the table. I insisted being on top. And I stared out the window while Josh called fucked me from below and called me dirty names. He called me his whore. His filthy fucking whore, and I was. I was cumming again for no reason. He was fucking me and taunting me, and I was loving it. And the light flicked on across the hall. The man was handsome and smiling. He had a hand in his pants and he winked. I fucked Josh and I winked back. I wanted him to fuck me. I wanted him to fuck my mouth with Josh fucked me from below. What the fuck was the matter with me? I climbed off Josh. He leapt up. Where the fuck did I think I was going. I told him. I was going to the window, I wanted him to press me against the window and fuck me from behind. I led the way and he started fucking me, first pressing my face against the window, then pulling my hair back slightly and lifting me. He pushed my breasts against the window. It was cold against the pane. The stranger was staring and me, cock in hand jerking off. I was moaning into the pane. "Josh, fuck me." Josh pulled out, pushed me to my knees and came on my face. He walked away to the shower. * I wiped his cum off my face, slipped my clothes on and walked out the door, and I couldn't wait to get back. On Top She was so horny. It was a delicate ache radiating from deep inside. A throbbing down below that was a physical hurt almost. It was an ache for someone to fill her up inside, for someone to touch all those live wires running around crazily in her pussy. She needed it, wanted it, had to have it, and soon. She walked over to him in a slightly tipsy state. The merlot wine had warmed up her insides. She was feeling good and he was looking good. He wanted her just as bad. She smiled at him, kissed him on his lips, and raised her arms and put them around his neck. Her hands ran through his hair and she kissed him again. Deep. Their tongues were seeking, feeling, sliding against each other. She loved kissing his mouth, his sexy mouth, that wonderful tongue, that deep-voiced intimate moan that just came from him. The music was sexy and it was really getting to her. She could feel the natural heat coming from his chest against her breasts, could feel his hands feeling her body, her ass, her hips, her back, her hair. Her hips pressed against his and moved in time with the music. Her breathing was becoming uneven after every touch. She was so hot. Horny. Hot and horny. She could feel his manhood growing against her, could feel his sweet hardness probing her front. She reached down and stroked it gently with her hand. The music was sexy and soulful and it was turning her on even more. She was amazingly aware of everything about him, how he felt, what she felt, what he did and what she did. So in tune with the moment. And she wanted him. They kissed, she moved her body to the music, he stroked, they kissed again, and she touched him. She touched his chest, down to his ass, his zipper, his cock, his balls. Her breathing was becoming deeper and deeper and she was fully into the music now. Her pussy was throbbing and she was sensually dancing in front of him, aware of what she was doing to him...fully aware. He took her hand and led her into the dimly lit bedroom. She was throbbing so much that it was hard for her to walk behind him. Her knees were weak. She grabbed his arm in anticipation of what was to come. She was drawing air into her mouth between her lips and teeth just knowing she was going to fuck him. She undressed quickly and spread out naked on the comfortable bed, pushing the satin comforter and blankets down and out of the way with her constantly moving legs. The room was cool and her nipples stood erect from the temperature and from the pinch he just put on each of them. "Mmm," she purred as he took each breast in his warm, strong hands. They kissed deeply, a good nice long sweet kiss, as he was making his way on top of her body. Her mind was focused only on the sensations he was producing in her...her mind wasn't capable of any other thinking. She felt his nakedness, his hardness, his strong but calm way about him. Oh yeah, she was going to fuck him...yes she was. As he was sucking her hard nipples and running his tongue all around each one, she took his head in her hands and stroked him, moaning and arching her back with the pleasure. He took one of her nipples between his teeth and she immediately thought of nothing else. "Bite it," she whispered. He gently chomped on the hard knot, increasing the pressure, increasing the force even more, until she whimpered with pain and pleasure and wiggled underneath him. He bit her pulsing nipple again while at the same time pinching the other one. She could feel the triangular sensations that her nipples made with her clit. Her back arched but he kept up the pressure on both breasts. Her hips began to move against his leg, making her clit rub against his sexy leg. "Ahhh," she moaned. "Oh yeah baby...yeah...." He took the other nipple into his mouth and bit down on the pink flesh. Again her reaction was one of wanting more...wanting that pain, wanting that feeling of being dominated...and appreciated...until he let go of both. She looked at him as he moved further down her body. Their eyes met and she smiled at him through deep breaths. Her moans were constant and she whined softly with each new sensation. Her body was writhing on the bed and her legs kept twitching from the constant movements of him on top of her. The slight touch of his fingers on her inner thighs, his breath running over her belly, the pressure of his weight as he kept moving down, his tongue licking her and almost to her pussy, was felt. Every touch, every breath, every sound was heightened for her. She wanted it so badly. She lifted her knees and spread her legs wide, parting herself for his tongue and fingers. Oh God she could feel his breath hitting her wet pussy and she almost couldn't contain herself knowing his tongue would be slicing her apart at any moment. That wet tongue wanting to lick her, taste her, feel her clit, and run itself over every inch of her womanhood. When she was about to lift her head to see why he had stopped, his finger plunged into her wet hole. "Ohhh yeah," she chanted. "Ohhh yeah." Her hips were moving against his hand. Animal sounds were coming from within her throat and her mouth was so wet. She kept licking her lips, and licking them again, to keep from drooling on herself. She was totally into the fingering when she felt his tongue plunge into her pussy and move up and down. The finger never stopped but kept plunging into her over and over. "Ahhh yesss," she whispered as she took her hands and stroked his head and ran her fingers through his hair. His tongue, that moist wet tongue, was eating her up. It was licking her all over, inside and out, up and down, and side to side. His hot tongue ran from the bottom of her swollen lips up, up further to the knob poking its head out from its hood. Her clit was hard and exposed and throbbing. That finger reached deeper and deeper, creating more cum for him to taste, more friction for her to feel, more pleasure for them both. She felt like a woman. She felt so needed, so appreciated, so pleasured at that moment. His strong arms were wrapping around her, his knowing eyes staring at her body, his frame on top of her. She felt so feminine, so sexy, so desirable, and so horny. She craved this man's attention. She craved the closeness, the strong arms and hands, the deep voice, the sexy way about him. She craved the feeling that he would take care of her, that he would protect her from harm, that he would give her what she wanted...what she needed. She needed a strong man. She needed the structure, the friend, the closeness. She needed to be taken to places where she had no control, out of control, out of body, flying into space, with strong arms holding her down the entire time letting her know that it was OK to fly, that he was in control and would be there with her for the entire magnificent ride. The intimacy was deep, his tongue caressing her folds, that finger touching the most feminine part of her soul, making her moan and twitch and move and groan and smile. He was taking her places, licking her and licking her. Oh that tongue...it feels sooo good she thought to herself. She was writhing on the bed trying to keep her bottom in place for him but she was about to cum all over him...reaching her limit...feeling that tingling starting from deep inside. He must have sensed it because he stopped eating her. The blood flowing in her head was deafening, the thump in her ears pounded against her jaws and throat and temples, the surge in her belly started to recede, when he kissed her. It was a deep kiss, his tongue in her throat, sharing her juices. She licked his lips, licked his face of all of her wetness, and moaned her pleasure. She was good. Sweet. Yummy. The kiss drained her of all energy for the moment, it was deep and good and sexy and so so hot. It turned her on that much more. She could just eat him up and lick her fingers afterward. Yum. The kiss left her head spinning, her blood vessels pounded with every heartbeat. His hands continued to stroke her as he lay down beside her. The wetness in her mouth was completely gone now, the moans and deep breaths leaving her mouth dry. "Get on top," he whispered to her, his large beautiful cock standing erect and ready for her. She positioned herself on top of him straddling his legs and kissed his mouth, his eyes, his throat, his chest, his belly while stroking his hair with her hand. She took his cock in her hand and stroked him, feeling him swell even further, until she knew he was ready, as was she. She lifted one leg until his cock was stationed right under her pussy, and slid it inside of her slowly...until his head hit rock bottom. "Ooohhh shit," she moaned. "Shit shit shit you are so big baby...ohhh...you are filling me up." Her ass went all the way down the length of his shaft until she was sitting on top of him and his cock was impaled all the way inside of her wet throbbing pussy. She rocked backward, arched her spine, and put her hands on his outstretched legs until she could feel his head hitting her spot deep inside of her, feeling her clit rubbing against his girth, and could feel him filling her up completely inside. "Oh God you feel so good," she breathes, inhaling and exhaling between her clenched teeth. Her hips started fucking him, fucking his willing cock, hunching on his member, forward and backward, forward and backward...getting faster and faster. "Ohhhh," she whined, almost crying with the wonderful sensation of being filled up, of everything being rubbed, of seeing him enjoying it too. Her hips moved faster now, never letting his cock leave her pussy, keeping his cock inside of her the entire time but moving her hips against his hot pelvis, genitals against genitals, looking down and seeing nothing but her pussy against the base of his cock. "Oh shit...oh shit...oh shit," she chants with each thrust. "Baby...I'm gonna cum...ohhh God...you feel...so good...baby....ooohhhhhhh fuck...SWEETIE.....OHHH..." Her insides started to explode around him, the surge of sensation and orgasm started in her chest and moved downward to their connection point. Her pussy contracted around his cock and contracted again and again and again. She was almost screaming now, yelling her pleasure for all to hear. Her hands were clenched in her own long brown hair, her back was arched, and her head and neck were thrust backward. Her breathing was heavy and her eyes were closed in ecstasy. Her pussy was clenching his rock hard member until his length was bent slightly backward from its normal position. Clench. Thrust. Clench. Thrust. She thrust forward one last time and the force of her orgasm made her pussy push his cock out from its hot embrace. The flood of her ejaculation streamed from her pussy, and sprayed his cock and balls in a fiery burst of wetness. The torrent of cum was streaming on her legs, on his legs, running down the sides of both of them and puddling on the sheets. The warm liquid kept pouring from her pussy until she collapsed on top of him...her mind and brain completely satiated but numb from reality. Her body jerked and seized and her groans filled the room. He rolled her over, lifted her legs, and got his... On Top Her hair was lank. It hung in curtains around her face and trailed dismally over his chest. She wriggled. Her hands were flat against his firm muscles. She flexed her fingers and felt the skin pucker under her nails. She was so full, the hardness so deep into her being, that every small movement magnified into a groan of inner pressure. She pushed harder with her hips, twisted them, grinding and pressing her stiff clit into his pelvis. Exhaustion ran through her in waves. Her arms shook, her legs ached, and she would end it now, explode upon him if he would let her. She leaned forward to relieve the growing frustration just a small bit, felt her nipples brush his chest hair and the feeling made her moan. He bucked and sent waves of sensation rippling through her. Thrill and need, delight and ache. There was a bruised feeling so high up that she knew she will have pangs of remembrance for days after this. She moaned with anguish and delight. He bucked again and again. Her hair slid up onto his shoulder and covered the sides of his face so that they became lovers hidden away from the world. Two children in a play fort made of covers and secrets. Another forceful push from him and this time she shrieked "Oh. I can't hold it. Oh please." Her thighs were shaking and tremors ripped through her arms. Her breasts shook, swaying in time to a rhythm she felt pounding in her groin. Perspiration trickled down her spine and pooled in the hollow made by her raised buttocks. She felt her juices running out over his pole and wondered how she had any left. Bizarrely, she wondered about them trailing down over his balls and if he would make her lick them clean when he finished with her here. She moaned at the thought. He will grab her hair and yank her head to his throbbing cock. He'll tell her to lick it clean, make her take it in her mouth and he'll pull her all the way onto it. Then pull her head away and force her to his balls, telling her to lick them good. She'll lap at them until every drop of her has been taken off. She'll use her tongue to pull and tug at them, make them bounce and tense. She'll think of them full and needing release. When he shoves her mouth onto his hard pole again, she'll do everything to get at that store of jism. Her thoughts were making her shake harder than ever. Moans were being forced from her throat with or without the rod impaling her thrusting upward. Every upward jolt, though, pushed an extra moan past her constricted throat and met a flood of liquid gushing down through her flowering sex. "Please," she whispered in a hoarse voice that no longer sounded like her own. "I can't stop it." The shudders were wracking her frame, her head was about to burst. His hands grabbed the cord tied around her wrists and jerked it over his head. She fell forward onto his chest, her mouth inches from his and he closed that gap. Kissed her hard. Crushed her lips against his teeth. Turned his cheek so her head fell next to his and spoke into her ear. It made her jump and his hard length sank deeper into her, making her groan so loudly she could barely hear him. "Is this what you wanted?" Shivers met every syllable. Her organs melted and her flesh drew away from her, reaching out for him. Yes. This is what she wanted. What she'd asked for. He had been giving her a choice. Toying with her. His torment of her building with each session. Since the very first time he'd tied her and held her inches from orgasm for so long she'd screamed and babbled at him. Even reared up in anger and frustration. He'd held her until the agony passed, then made her climax in an earthshattering moment that broke her inside. Freed her from the convention she'd lived her life by. When she'd stopped screaming and wound down into a gasping, sobbing kind of breathless heap, he'd asked her how she wanted to cum next. She hadn't been able to think then, so he offered her several choices and she remembers saying "Yes, please," to each and every one. He made her pick one first, then made her orgasm each of the ways she'd said yes to. After that first time with her hands bound, he'd tied her every session and tormented her into submission before making her cum in ways that left her shaken and lost within herself. Then he'd gone on each time to ask her how she wanted her next orgasm. That was months past and she was only now able to tell him what she wanted next. This night, gasping and reeling, she'd mentioned the one thing he hadn't given her. The one way she'd always needed before him. On top. The only way she'd ever cum before him. Sitting on top, impaling herself and riding it with grinding motions that made her feel so delicious. Gave her sensations stabbing through her groin. Bouncing and playing, pushing her tits out and seeing the boy's eyes pop out in joy. "How will you cum next?" His words had slipped into her weariness and triggered the thought she'd had only days before. "On top." She'd blurted. "On top." The way she'd always been before him. Riding free and easy and taking her orgasm when she wanted. A nice, gentle climax that began as a small glow and flared into a sweet fire. A chorus of song that would leave her wanting more. Leave her with a burning afterward that she would keep with her for hours. A delicious warmth that she could hold and sleep within. Often, the man would hold on and she'd have several rising tide like blossomings that might even become waves lapping at her. Depending how far aflame the man would have gotten her before she traced the hairline with her delicate fingers, reached up, grabbed and mounted. Depending how much a stallion the man was, how hard the cock or how full the ministrations had been in prologue. "On top" meant something different with him. He untied her ankles from the bed, raised her legs and impaled himself deep in her. She gasped. Already fatigued from the hours of torment, she was putty. He reached over her head and freed her hands from the headboard while still keeping them bound to each other, he pushed her knee and rolled her over onto him. His hands shoved her tall above him and it sent his shaft completely in her. She had just strength enough for a surprised "Oh" burst from her very heart before he set her hands on his broad chest and bucked her. Banged her open battered sex. Her hair draped around her face and hung down, covering the two of them. She tried to ride, to take control, take over the pace just like all the other times, but she knew in her soul that there was no comparison. The orgasm he'd forced upon her after breaking through her barriers this time had shattered her bones. She had nothing left to keep from him. This was a pale attempt to bring herself closer to the wan woman she'd been before him. The flare of colors he gave her with every thrust into her life forced her further from the person she'd always believed herself to be. She dropped. Felt herself give in completely and his impossibly hard pole reached further inside her than she'd ever felt before. She saw her life the same way. He was that hard length, shoving itself further and further into her days, making her want more and more, bringing her new sensations, new feelings with every thrust. She was able to do little more than stay and let him have everything he'll take. She felt herself go completely limp and feared that she had fainted. Checked herself mentally and realized that she'd merely given herself completely to him. He could claim her now. Take his mastery, whatever he wanted and all he would. That he could leave whatever huddled remains he would not have behind him when he goes. And she would give it all. With that, he rolled to the side, clasping her to him, buried to the hilt. He sat on the edge of the bed, bounced her there, eliciting vague screams of delight or delirium or pain or need. He rose and slammed her into the wall. The hard surface on her back shoved him into her deeper than her imagination allowed and she hadn't even a scream to describe the feeling. As he pounded her, she came in a far away place that shook her every nerve. And he answered. The jets of hot magma spewed out of him. She felt him jerking and jolting. She was so completely out of control that her body spasmed of its own accord, yanking more from him, making him pump himself dry. He was still hard inside her as he laid her softly upon the gentle covers and turned their bodies so they could sleep a dreamless night. On Top of a Mountain They met on a mountain top. It was snowing heavily and it seemed they had both been stranded in the Restaurant. The last cable-car had already left and because of the weather, they were informed that there would not be another until the next day. Marion was a tall, well-built brunette, about 5'9". She had silver-grey eyes with a twinkle. Her skin had a bronze hue and her mouth looked delectable. She was dressed in white ski pants and a shirt, covered with a red ski jacket, which could be seen from afar. Gary was about 6' and of a slim build. He had dark brown eyes and jet-black hair, which was slicked back. He had a very tanned, outdoor look and was dressed in tan ski pants and a long sleeved shirt, covered with a blue ski jacket. The two of them had been sitting at separate tables but when they realised that they had been stranded, Gary wandered over to Marion's table and asked if he could sit with her. "It looks like we are here for the night, Miss. Would you mind if I join you at your table?" Marion looked up at him, "Please have a seat, we may as well sit together and chat. There isn't anything else to do." They sat for about two hours and chatted about various things. Marion found that Gary was a Sales Manager in Ski Wear. She informed him that she was a Buyer in the retail industry. They spoke about their different jobs and everything that was going on in the World. It was getting late and Gary thought that he would try and make up some sort of bedding for Marion. He spoke to the Restaurant staff, and asked if there was anything that he could use for this. The restaurant staff quite often had to stay overnight because of the weather. When you worked in these sorts of conditions, you had to be prepared. They told Gary that there were a couple of small rooms attached to the building, and they were welcome to one of them. The other would have to be kept for the staff of three. Gary went back and relayed the news to Marion. "I will sleep outside here in the Restaurant, and you can use the bedroom." "No, no, she said. You must use the accommodation with me. After all, you are stranded too and have already paid for your room in the Hotel." Gary was reluctant but eventually agreed. He allowed Marion to go first and then followed her in about 15 minutes. She had already climbed into one of the beds, fully clothed except for her jacket, leaving the other for him. They both slept fairly well and were awake early the next morning. They entered the restaurant and were greeted by the staff, and assured them that they had slept fine. They were offered breakfast, courtesy of the restaurant. They ate and then sat and waited for the cable-car to come up. "I think the first thing I will do is get into a nice hot bath," stated Marion. Jokingly, Gary enquired, "Would you like me to wash your back." She laughed and blushed. The cable-car came up then and they boarded and were borne down to the lower slopes. When they got to the Hotel, Gary realised that they were both on the same floor. "Marion, would you like to have Dinner with me tonight, please. I would love to continue our conversations of last night." "That would be great, Gary. Can you pick me up about seven-thirty, I will be looking forward to an entertaining evening." "Okay, see you at seven-thirty then." They both went to their own rooms and enjoyed their baths. Marion thought that she would have a rest and lay down and went to sleep. She woke up about four-thirty in the afternoon, feeling very refreshed. She'd had a good sleep the night before but still needed the extra in a comfortable bed. Gary had his bath but he decided to go on another day's skiing. He made sure that he caught the cable car back to the base, in time to get ready for his dinner date. At the appointed time, he went along to Marion's room and knocked. Marion opened the door and he took a backwards step. She was gorgeous. Dressed in a long, lilac frock, with a split up the left leg to the hipline. Her hair was styled in a tousled way, but still looked elegant. She picked up her clutch bag and stepped out the door. Gary was dressed in a dark grey dinner suit and also looked very slick. Marion was very impressed. Gary had already booked a table. When they made an appearance the Maitre' de showed them to the table, and the wine waiter offered them the wine menu. After consulting Marion as to what her preference was in wine, red or white, Gary ordered two bottles of a French Merlot. This was something else that impressed Marion; he seemed to know his wines. The food waiter then produced a menu for them to peruse. Marion decided on a Shrimp Cocktail, followed by a Chicken Snitzel. Gary ordered a Shrimp Cocktail and a 300gr rare Steak and salad. They continued chatting over their wine whilst waiting for their food, and realised how much they had in common; both being in Sales, even though in different products. They also realised that they knew people who moved in the same circles. Marion and Gary were served their food, and set out to enjoy it. They hadn't really had a good meal the night before. When the dessert tray came round, Marion chose a Peach Melba and Gary decided to join her. After they finished dinner, Gary suggested they proceed to the nightclub in the Hotel, so enjoy a few dances. The Maitre' de arranged a table for them in the Club. When they were settled and had ordered their drinks, Gary asked Marion if she would like to dance. Marion accepted, and they took to the dance floor. He held her close, but not too close, trying not to put any pressure on her. He knew that he wanted to bed this beautiful lady tonight. As they danced, Marion closed the gap between them and he felt his hardness move across her thigh. He didn't know what to do. He looked down at her and she just smiled up at him, snuggling into his arms. Marion was very comfortable, melding her body into Gary's. She knew that they would spend the night together. After a couple of more dances and drinks, Gary asked her is she wanted to stay or is she was ready for bed. Marion replied, "Lets go upstairs to my room and have a Nightcap." Gary knew then that his wishes were going to come true. He took her elbow and guided her to the elevator. As she turned to face the elevator door, he spread his arms and took her into them, lowered his mouth and kissed the back of the neck. This was the first of many kisses of the night. Marion melted into his arms. She felt so secure being held by him. She knew that it was going to be a wonderful night. They made it to the room, and Gary again grabbed her by the hips and drew her to him, letting his lips drift across her neck and the tips of her ears, and onto the side of her cheek. She turned to him and slid her arms around his neck and responded passionately to the kiss he placed on her lips. He walked her backward towards the bed, Marion stumbled a little so Gary picked her up and placed her gently on the bed. He bent down and placed another kiss on her mouth and she again responded hungrily and their tongues entwined in a duel. Gary stood and shed his jacket, his tie and shirt. He stooped over Marion and slipped the straps of her gown down her arms and then slid the whole thing over her body and took it off at her feet. He placed it on the chair beside the bed. He stood and looked at her for a few moments and couldn't believe how beautiful she was. She lay there just in thigh high stockings, garters, black thong and a very filmy lacy bra that did nothing to hide her magnificent breasts, which were about a 38DD. He then leant over and swiped his tongue across the nipples that were standing up begging for attention. This only made them grow more and they stood about 3/4inch high from her aureoles. They were a darker pink that those. He continued to lave and lick and suck the nipples, alternating from side to side, so that no side was left wanting. Marion pushed him away and started to unbuckle his belt and unzip his trousers. Gary got the message; she wanted him to strip too. He slipped his pants off and threw them over the chair and turned to her. "Take off your boxers too, darling. No, let me take them off," and proceeded to do so, with her teeth. He complimented her by bending down and grabbing the waistband of her thong and slipping it over her legs and feet. He then sat her up and slipped his hand around to her back and undid the bra and threw it onto the floor. She now lay there naked, just with her thigh high stocking and garters and high heel shoes. What a wondrous sight!!!!! Gary was spellbound. He felt that she would break if he touched her, she looked so vulnerable, but so delicious. Marion raised her arms to him, beckoning him to her side. He lay beside her and ran his hands all over her. Feeling every curve and dip in her body. He then ran his tongue from the top of her head, across her cheeks, to her mouth with another deep kiss, then proceeded to lave and lick both of her nipples. He lowered his head further and his tongue found it way to her navel where he ran it round a couple of times, then onto her Mound of Venus. She was already wet and he could smell the delightful aroma coming from her velvet channel. His tongue tangled in the short bush she had on the mound, and then delved into the crevice of her wet, hot pussy. She jumped and her cunt smashed into his face. He lapped at her and his tongue got to work on her vulnerable clit. It was so sensitive and already dripping with moisture. Marion writhed and tossed as he continued to suck her clit, she was in Heaven, and she never wanted to leave. She knew that she had to do something for Gary though. She again pushed him off her and reached down to grab his hard rod. She just loved the feel of his manhood. Gary realised that he wouldn't last very long if she kept this up. He rolled her over so that she was on top of him, cowgirl style, then lifted her so that her hot Venus Trap was above his rigid dick, and lowered her gently onto it. She screamed as it filled her to the maximum. Marion sat there for a moment and then started to move. She moved up and down and from side to side, all the while looking into his eyes to get his reaction. Gary was having a marvellous reaction. His breathing was coming in short pants and he was moving in rhythm with her. He knew for certain that this could not last too long. "Darling, I'm cummmmmiinnnggg........," he yelled. "Marion felt at that moment that the orgasm she was going to have would be outstanding. "So....... am.... I..... .." When they had both recovered their breath, Gary looked up at her and said, "I don't think I have ever felt anything so intense as I did then. I hope you are able to stand a lot more of that; cause that's what is in store for you tonight." "Bring it on lover, retorted Marion. I'm ready for anything now."