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Role Over

By: JackRace



Authors note. 

Non of this story what it first seems.

My thanks go to Piscator from the Literotica Volunteer Editor program for helping add some polish to submission.




The confines of the wardrobe felt claustrophobic.

About me the stifling air, a heady mixture of perfume, mothballs and fabric conditioner, soon began to nauseate.

Then the black woollen balaclava started to irritate my skin.

As I waited, sweat trickled down my back, draining down the lower curve of my spine before disappearing into the crevasse between my butt.

I desperately wanted to cool off and remove my coat, but needed the contents of the pockets at hand when I burst out and took her.

After what seemed an eternity, she breezed into the bedroom looking happy and relaxed. She was dressed in a smart light-grey business suit, white silk blouse, dark stockings and high heels.

Except it wasn't like any business suit I'd ever seen.

The skirt was way too short for the office - revealing glimpses of dark stocking tops as she moved, the erotic swish of it's silk lining sliding smoothly over black nylon.

Her silk blouse was also cut way too low to possibly be tolerated by even the most open-minded of office managers, her sit-up-and/beg breasts bursting out the top of a lace bra revealed the dimpled edges of both large brown areoles. 

Was she already dressed for sex?

For a woman in her mid forties she still looked fit and devastatingly attractive. I knew she worked out in the nearby gym as I'd watched her several times pumping weights in her clinging lycra gym clothes.

Although she carried a few extra pounds around her waist and shoulders, her arms had good muscle definition and her thighs bulged like pile-drivers. Her skin was more tanned then last I'd seen her, I guessed she had recently been under the UV lamps.

It was her jet black hair that had first attracted me to her, that and an alluring ski slope nose, full lips and dark eyes.

She was an Amazon and I anticipated a tough struggle to subdue her before I could thrust my rampant penis into her muscular body.

Strangely I didn't want to mark her or hurt that magnificent physique. I just longed to feel my naked body against her skin, force her to submit and violate her hard in both holes. 

She intimidated me. But I had to be her master.

Humming something tuneless she shimmied out of her skirt which slid down her legs to crumple on the hard floor. Casually glancing down she carelessly stepped one leg out of the waistband, the light catching the sheen of her expensive silk stockings. Stepping sideways she hooked the waistband of the skirt on the toe of her stiletto shoe and deftly flicked it through the open bathroom door onto the polished granite tiles.

Outside the house an emergency vehicle sped past, sirens clearing the way ahead. She seemed to pause, smile and listened until it faded into the traffic noise of the evening rush hour.

Her luxurious Parisian perfume pervaded the room somehow finding a way into the wardrobe, further enfaming my passion.

By now my eye was pressed close to the spy hole in anticipation of the moment I would launch my attack.

Meanwhile she had taken her smartphone from her shoulder bag and with one hand thumbed in a number.

With her other hand she began to slowly ease the top button of her blouse.

I dare not attack while she was speaking to someone else.

While she waited for the number to ring she walked confidently around to the bottom of the bed directly facing my hiding place, her stilettos clicking sexily on the polished wooden floor.

My heart leapt in panic for a moment as she seemed to be looking directly at me.

Then I realised she was examining her body in the mirrors hanging on the outside of the wardrobe doors. 

Seeming to approve of what she saw, she cupped a firm breast and nodded to herself in approval.

To get a better view of her I had to move carefully to my right to see through the thin gap between the doors. I was breathing heavily anticipating that thrilling moment when I would be discovered.

But she remained relaxed.

She had just sat down just a few feet from my hiding place as someone must have answered her call.

"Hello, is that Mrs Okara?" she asked in the cultured voice of an educated professional.

"This is Leanne Cooper from your husband's office, I'm so sorry to have disturbed your evening but I'm finalising the papers for tomorrow's board meeting and the CEO would like David to check a couple of points if he's at home?

As she spoke she unfastened the last button on her blouse and began adjusting a strap of her suspender belt, momentarily admiring her sleek legs in the mirror.

After a few seconds she spoke again, "Yes I'm still at my desk but this doesn't happen very often, just a few minutes more then it's home for me, a hot bath and put my tired feet up. That's what you get for being the Chief Executive's Personal Assistant." 

Then added, "Thank you Mrs Okara, of course I'll hold, and once again I apologise for calling your husband at home."

As she waited she slipped a heel out of one shoe and began flicking it from side to side, her silken leg stretched out - as if somehow flirting with me.

Then her face lit up as the man she was calling had evidently picked up the phone.

"It's me Leanne. No of course I'm not still at the office, I just said that to put your Stepford fucking bitch off the scent." She listened for a few moments then said, "Is the frigid slut still there? Are you free to speak?"

There was a pause in the conversation. I imagined the man putting down the phone and closing a door for privacy or perhaps he moved into another room.

In that time she put down the phone, wriggled out of her blouse, quickly reaching behind her to remove her push-up bra. Now all she wore was the black six-strap suspender belt, seamed black nylons and matching patent high heels.

God she looked hot!

Returning the phone to her ear she twisted her body side-on to the mirrors, gave both nipples a quick tweak to snap them to attention and straightened up. Her breasts were perfect, a woman twenty years younger would have thought herself a glamour model with them.

And while she had clearly lost some of the magic bloom of youth she was still a very attractive woman.

"I thought you might like to come out for a picnic with me?"

She twirled a strand of hair between two fingers as she began flirting.

"Why tonight of course!"

She was enjoying her sexy innuendos.

"I thought I could bring the starter, something succulent, something very Brazilian, something that you could enjoy eating. And you bring the main course - you know I love dark meat, especially when it has a firm bone and comes with lots of gravy for me to lick off!" She sniggered, amused at her own inventiveness.

As she spoke she opened her thighs at last revealing to me the promised land that was the thin landing strip of her Brazilian topiary, the inviting mound of her sex and the inviting lips of her shaved vagina. Then with two fingers spread wide she slowly slid her hand down her stomach, passing close to the edges of her neat Brazilian trim and caressed the opening lips of her labia.

"And if that doesn't make your mouth water I've got a special birthday present for you."

Her face took on a wicked smile.

"Give you a clue? Well it's small, looks like a rosebud and is best entered through the back door!" Again she chuckled in delight.

Then she rolled onto her stomach, her legs stretching from the end of the bed to the floor, her pert ass grinning at me. As she spoke she opened her legs wide, revealing the crack of her butt, reached back and slid a long-nailed finger onto the rosebud of her anal entrance and began to circle it in anticipation.

"Well you've been asking me long enough, I thought just for once you could come with me in the tunnel of love!" she giggled in delight.

This was the moment I had waited for, the perfect position for me to take her, face down on the bed and unable to identify me. I would be able the remove the balaclava and fuck both holes without much of a struggle. My erection had found its way out of my flies and throbbed up and down in rhythmic pulses. My mouth was dry and I could smell my own body sweat.

I thought my chest might not withstand the pounding of my excited heart.

"I'm sure you can find a good excuse to get away for an hour, tell her you have to go back to the office to check some papers or some other bullshit."

Her hand let go of her hair and began playing casually with a strap of her suspender belt.

"I'll get dressed into something guaranteed to break your neck with a hard-on and meet you in the usual place in an hour. Can't wait to taste your salted beef!"

I watched her ring off with a press of her thumb on the keypad.

This was my moment.

With one hand I carefully drew out the hunting knife from my pocket, with the other grasped the partially closed cable ties needed to manacle her wrists and ankles.

Then I readied one shoulder against the wardrobe doors. I took a final glance through the door gap to confirm exactly where she was and thrust open both doors with a crash.

Surprise was everything, especially against a tall, muscular warrior like her.

As I burst out onto the glorious scene of her face down on the bed, something caught my eye hanging on the back of the bedroom door - something I'd missed when I broke in.

It was the uniform and equipment of a police officer - metal sergeants stripes on the epaulettes of a stab vest, night stick and handcuffs attached to a webbed belt.

Momentarily confused I hesitated looking first at her then again at the police uniform.

"What the Fuck..."

In that instant she exploded into action, whirling a long leg in a high arc, her body twisted around to face me. Then a stiletto heel struck my hand, sending the knife spinning harmlessly across the room. A moment later she was on me, one hand around my throat the other gripping my wrist with a vice-like grip.

My god she was strong.

I hardly had time to think before it was me face down in the bed with her sitting astride my waist, one arm up my back feeling like it might break. I stifled a scream of pain unable to move. A few seconds later she had taken my other arm, twisted it behind my back and secured both wrists with my own cable ties.

Fuck, it was uncomfortable!

Then she reached forward, dragging the balaclava from my face and snatching a great handful of hair. In a savage movement she wrenched my head backwards causing me to fear she might snap my neck.

"Put your heels together and bend them towards me! Try kicking me and I'll put you in a fucking wheelchair!" she spat.

I did as she said and a couple of seconds later I felt the other cable tie tighten around both ankles, the tiny plastic ratchets securing my legs firmly together.

"Don't move or say anything until I say - you useless cunt!" she said, dismounting from me. Then I heard her step away a couple of feet and take something from behind the door, I guessed it must be her police radio.

I froze in position, straining to hear what she was doing. I could make out she was clipping on her police belt which meant she probably had access to pepper spray, taser and other painful weapons.

My head was turned to the right facing a dressing table with several drawers, a mirror and a padded stool.

Then she came into my field of view, admittedly 90 degrees out of vertical, but the sight of her almost made me come. She looked sensational. Still wearing only stockings, suspenders and high heels she now wore the police black webbing belt bulging with equipment. She stopped and turned to examine me.

Now only inches from her perfect landing strip and shaved pussy I could smell her pheromones.

I raised my head slightly off the bed to get a better view of her breasts only to receive a crack on the head from her night stick.

"Which part of 'don't move', didn't you understand you thick twat? she hissed.

Returning my face to the bed I watched as she turned, bent forward and took something from a drawer.

It was a single black seamed stocking. She first waved it in front of my face then quickly screwed it into a gag before tearing my head back and stuffing it into my already dry mouth.

"Fucking pervert," she said, then grabbed hold of my coat, effortlessly flipping me over onto my back, my hard cock straining back and forth like a wand in the still air of the bedroom.

I was in a mess, trussed up in my hot attack clothes, arms pinned beneath me, predator become quarry. But at least I could see what she was doing.

I watched, both fascinated and fearful as she began searching for something on the bedroom floor.

She soon found what she sought against the bedroom door. But instead of immediately picking it up, she took a pair of blue forensic gloves from her belt and made a big show of snapping them on each hand, as if preparing for a body search.

Then she revealed the hunting knife. Only now, from the position of victim, did I realise just how terrifying the glinting 8" steel blade really was.

Her stilettos clicked again as she approached me, face twisted in an evil grin.

I whimpered like a child as she brought the razor-sharp blade close to the head of my prick. But instead of cutting me, she sliced open the front fastens of my trousers, then putting the blade on the bed, began to shimmy my trousers down around my bound ankles.

She did the same with the buttons on my jacket and shirt before throwing them open.

She paused, seeming to appraise my naked body for a moment or so, then kicking off her heels, climbed onto the bed, standing up high above me with a foot planted either side of my hips.

Suddenly she squatted down on me and with one hand on the shaft of my penis, lowered herself onto me. The lips of her labia closed around my wet shaft and she gyrated herself until she had taken it all up to my balls. I grunted approval but she raised her night stick in warning to keep quiet.

After a while she began to gently bounce up and down on me, withdrawing just enough for the head of my prick to touch the wet lips of her sex.

She continued fucking me for several unbelievable minutes leaning back to support herself on my legs, twice bringing me to the crest of orgasm then pausing until the moment passed.

Then she was rocking back and forth, both hands on my chest, beginning to moan as she moved inexorably towards her climax.

I steeled myself not the come before her, using every mental trick I knew to stem the flow.

Then she came, pulsing on my cock, her spent juices dripping down my shaft.

"O'h fuck!"she screamed, digging her nails deep into the tight skin of my chest.

Unable to hold back any longer I let go, ejaculating on the crest of the highest pleasure wave I could imagine - and kept coming as she continued milking me with her tight muscular pussy.

As our passions both began to subside she leaned forward her face close to mine studying my eyes. Her hot sweet breath gently caressing my skin.

Then she removed the stocking gag from my mouth.

We both broke into wide smiles as she put her glossy lips on mine and thrust her tongue deep inside my mouth. I began to suck her tongue in an effort to slake my thirst. Understanding what I wanted she gently dribbled her sweet spit into me which I swallowed hungrily.

After a while she raised herself up on strong arms, and sliding forward brought her firm breasts within licking distance of my lips. I lifted my head slightly forward and took an erect nipple into my mouth, sucking hard and gently closing my teeth around it.

She squirmed with pleasure then rolled over on her back, arms and legs wide and staring at the ceiling. I turned my head to look at her beautiful profile then we both curled up with convulsive laughter.

As our bodies writhed I caught the faint but unmistakable musty scent of semen mixed with sweat rising from between our wet legs.

"God that was incredible sex, I haven't come so strong for years!" I said at last.

"You haven't had a hard-on like that for years," she said, it was like a fucking rod of iron!"

"It was your acting with the phone that made it hard - you were fucking amazing. And when you flashed your rosebud at me I almost ejaculated in the fucking wardrobe!" I said, looking at her with true admiration.

"Those two years at acting school weren't wasted then?" she said turning her sweet face towards me.

"You were totally amazing" I repeated, "but it was the police uniform and accessories that put the cherry on the cake, where did you get them from?"

"The fancy dress shop in town," she said. "Take a look in the belt pouches, something in there might give you another idea."

"I would if I wasn't trussed up like a fucking Christmas turkey, get the knife and let me loose!"

It took a couple of minutes for her to cut me free of my bonds and throw the ripped and shredded clothes onto the bedroom floor.

Then it was my turn to sit across her stretched out bronzed figure, my penis hanging limp between her thighs, the head nuzzling against her moist vagina. She watched me with the eyes of a hawk about to strike as I began systematically searching the pouches on her equipment belt.

Then my hands closed around a small plastic bottle filled with an oily liquid.

"This?" I queried, holding up the bottle.

"Two uses," she giggled, "to make rosebuds grow and another to open the back door!"

"Are you serious?" I asked, searching her face for signs of a practical joke.

But she was serious.

"My birthday present?" I said incredulously, " But anal has always been a strict taboo with you?"

"The sex therapist told us to be adventurous, so I gave myself an enema a couple of hours ago. But you have to be very careful not to tear me, so go slowly and use lots of lube."

That said she sat up, kissed me lovingly then gently turned over on her front, drawing both knees up under her in submission.

"Enjoy your birthday present!" she said, pulling a pillow to her face and gripping it tightly.

Again the scent of her pheromones wafted into my nose and instantly my penis reacted, quickly becoming engorged and rigid.

"Don't you just love this role play stuff" I said drizzling oil onto the purple head of my penis and gently massaging some on to her pink rosebud.

Then as an afterthought, I reached across, picked up the spit-soaked stocking we had used as a gag and offered it to her.

"From what I've read you're going to need this," I said, a note of wickedness creeping back into my voice.

Role Over: A BDSM Odyssey



PROLOGUE (present day)

As I walked down the grassy bank and approached the lake I barely noticed the gay collage of joggers, bicyclists, strollers and children. I was in a pensive mood, and this familiar place opened doors to my past that I'd kept closed for a long time. It was right here where my former life had come to an end and where my new one had begun. I had no desire to go back. But the past lies forever in the past, I reminded myself, like an old book, familiar but dead.

The lake didn't look much different now, except for the large population of Canadian geese that had moved in, crapping on everything in sight. I found an unsoiled spot and sat down. A cocker spaniel ran by, chasing a pissed-off duck, while ignoring some fat geese standing mere feet away. The spring sun felt good on my face. I laid back on the grass and closed my eyes. It had been cold that night, I recalled, a crisp winter evening. I heard a dog barking ... then splashing noises ...

1 - THE LAKE

The raucous disturbance shattering the chill night air over Seattle's Greenlake came as an almost welcome interruption to my somber reflections. Barking, then splashes, followed by the panicked quacking of ducks echoed along the dark shoreline. Another dog wants duck for dinner. The barking changed to a high-pitched series of wailing yips, then a scream -- definitely human, and female -- echoed up the shoreline.

I jumped up from the small dock and ran toward the commotion. The woman was still screaming when I got there, but not in any danger. She waved a pudgy finger at this bedraggled mess of a dog-poodle, or something resembling that. It was out in the lake, clinging to the end of a half submerged log. The woman was frantic. The mutt had chased the duck out along the log, but had no idea on how to get back. Animals do that when they see prey, their little brains shut down, blood lust takes over, and off they go.


I tried to imagine what would happen if it actually caught a duck. It wouldn't be pretty. God knows, dogs will eat anything. I had a friend who used to throw the sort of parties where people would stagger outside and throw up. His dog used to lurk outside door, waiting for that nice warm snack. Mmmm. Let's just say I'm not a "dog person." Taking pity on the duck assassin's owner, I said something glib like "Don't worry ma'am," and began slogging out to where I could reach the log. No way was I going to take my shoes off, with nothing but broken glass and decaying goose-shit to walk on. 

The muck nearly sucked my shoes off anyway, and it took a few minutes of careful effort before I reached the log. I tested it to make sure that it wasn't floating, and then stepped gingerly aboard. After some careful mincing along the slimy wood I finally got close to where the dog sat cowering. I offered my hand and he snarled at it.

"Hey little fella," I heard myself say in a ridiculous soft voice, "Come on. . .don't be scared. . .come on. . ."

This seemed to calm it down, so I reached again, offering him my left hand. He tried to bite it, which I expected. Taking a handful of his neck scruff in my right hand, I hoisted him off the log. . . .and completely lost my footing in the process. Ass over teakettle is the expression I believe.

Splash

I slogged up out of the fetid goo like the Creature from the Black Lagoon, dog held out at arm's length by its worthless neck, yelping and whining. I dropped it on the shore and sat down to empty the mud from my shoes. The dog's owner wrapped the mutt in her coat and walked over to where I sat. Probably going to thank me, maybe offer a reward, I thought. 

"You could have hurt her!" she shouted, "No one treats my poor Brichette that way." Brick-shit? I thought. Now there's a funny name. 

"I should report you!" she said over her shoulder as her and Brickshit hit the bricks. I pulled my shoes back on and lay back in the grass for a moment, admiring the winter constellations overhead while the water drained out of my pantlegs. A young woman's face filled my field of vision. 

"Am I dying?" I asked, "Are you an angel?"

"No, silly," she replied, "But I might be looking at one."

"Huh?" Damn' she's cute.

She kneeled down next to me. "I saw what you did for that lady and her dog. She should have thanked you." Then she pulled a handkerchief from her coat and dabbed at the muddy water on my face. Yeah, she's definitely an angel. 

"I didn't really have a reason to go on living tonight anyway," I quipped, "so I was on my way to a drowning -- very private affair -- when the dog interfered. But thanks for the vote of confidence." I started to get up, "Now if you'll excuse me I have a date with oblivion."

"I hope you were just kidding about that," she said, examining my face with a concerned look, "Are things really ever that bad?"

I stood there shaking a little from the cold. "No I guess not. I'm sorry. It's just been a lousier than usual evening." I held out my arms like a crucifixion. Water drooled out of the sleeves. "Now I've got to get this wet stinking carcass home before it freezes."

"How far away do you live?"

"Queen Anne Hill," I replied, nodding toward the south end of the lake, "I have a car. The upholstery will never smell the same after tonight." I squeezed the front of my sweater, letting it piss on my feet, then tossed her a goofy smile. "Maybe I'll throw it all in the trunk and drive home au naturel."

Her laugh had a pleasant musical quality. 

"I'd love to see that! But you might freeze -- if you don't get arrested first." She studied me for a moment and seemed to reach a decision. "Tell you what. I live nearby. Come home with me and you can get cleaned up while I wash those clothes for you."

I started to protest, "Look, you don't even know me. Didn't your mother warn..."

"Yes she did." The way she said it made me regret the question. Then her tone softened again. "I think you're more of a threat to yourself than to anyone else. By the way my name is Misha." As she said this she stuck her hands down in front of me. I grasped them. They were warm, of course. She helped pull me to my feet with surprising strength.

"I'm Alex...Thanks."

"Well Alex, you're not the only one around here with a sense of civic duty. You smell so awful you're a public nuisance. By taking you home I'm just doing my community a favor." "Sure, bringing the trash in," I murmured to myself as she led me away. She turned and shot me a curious glance as we walked up the grassy bank toward the street." Her house was one of those craftsman bungalows built in the 20's throughout this area. It was on a side street, just half a block from the lake.

"Nice place," I said, "Great location."

"Yeah we lucked out and heard about it before the previous renters moved out." "So, you and your ah, husband?" I pried.

"Room-mate," she said, glancing down at my muddy shoes squishing noisily up her porch steps. "Maybe you'd better..." I was already removing them before she could finish. 

"You can leave those out here," Misha said. "I'll get them later." She glanced pointedly at the grimy lake water still dripping from my pants. 

"Perhaps I should also..." I offered, reaching for my belt buckle.

"I think so," Mish replied, obviously relieved. "There's no need to be bashful."

I unfastened my pants and peeled them off. My skivvies were also quite wet, and offered little in the way of cover. She turned and unlocked the door, then held it open for me. I padded barefoot into the house, feeling like a homeless stray, and acutely aware of Misha's appraising eyes on my backside. 

2 - JUST LIKE HOME

The house was comfortable inside, modestly furnished in warm earth tones with tasteful splashes of color here and there. I could live in a place like this-more so than my current fleabag apartment. 

Misha pointed to an open doorway, "Bathroom's down the hall. Go ahead and get your wet clothes off and toss them by the door. Clean towels are hanging next to the shower. . ." she paused, wrinkling her nose". . . which you definitely should use." She turned away, walked over to the brick fireplace, and began tending to the smoldering embers.

The bathroom had obviously been remodeled recently. All the fixtures, including a large glass shower stall, looked new. The dŽcor and cleanliness of the room said "girls only" which got me to wondering about this mysterious roommate. I started the water to let it warm up, then stripped out of my muddy -- and smelly -- clothes. I was still looking for a place to lay them without making a mess when Misha walked in the door. 

"Oh! Sorry," she said, making no effort to avert her eyes. "I heard water running and thought you were already in the shower." She held her arm out for the clothes and waited.

I had turned my back to her when she burst in -- a clumsy maneuver that allowed her both frontal and butt views. Now I stood facing her again, blushing and using the bundle of clothes to cover myself. Abandoning modesty, I quickly shoved the sodden mess into her arms and stepped into the shower stall. As I pulled the glass panels closed I realized they weren't frosted. 

Misha looked at me through the glass and smiled. "I left a robe hanging on the door," she said. "Go ahead and wear that while I wash these yucky clothes of yours." She walked out and closed the door behind her.

I stood under the water for a long time, letting its warmth chase the lake-chill from my body. The soap had a strong flowery scent but it seemed to work well, and if nothing else it might mask any lingering stench from the lake muck. Eventually, I managed to scrub the remaining mud out of every pore. 

Reaching for a towel, I glanced at the robe Misha had left me. It was a woman's, dark blue silk with Japanese writing silk-screened onto it. I dried off and pulled the robe off the hook. It would be a short fit on my frame but it would cover the important parts. Barely. I slipped it on and immediately felt a strange tingle.

The robe's silky feel against my freshly scrubbed skin, combined with the slight smell of perfume, was undeniably erotic. My cock began to fill with blood, and within moments it had formed a conspicuous tent in the robe. I glanced around the bathroom, hoping Misha might have at least left my briefs. There was nothing.

I lifted the clothes-hamper lid and peered inside. Right on top of some towels was a pair of pale blue panties. They had to be either Misha's or her roommate's. I hesitated, tempted, but I just couldn't bring myself to try them on. I was just lowering the hamper lid when someone knocked.

"When you're ready, come out to the living room," Misha called through the door. "I have a nice fire going. You can warm up in front of that."

"Okay," I replied. "Sounds good."

My decision had just been made for me. There was no way I could lounge near the fire next to cute little Misha without getting another erection. And this flimsy little robe was not going to hide it. My renegade cock had just proved that.

Oh well, I thought, any containment is better than none. I opened the hamper and lifted out the delicate pair of panties. They appeared to be clean, but out of curiosity I smelled them. They had the same perfumed scent as my robe but there was also a faint musty odor on the crotch-panel. My mouth fell open and I nearly swooned as once again the blood rushed into my cock. Ironically, very thing that I had selected to hide my erection in had only caused it to grow larger. Whatever was a poor boy to do?

I parted the robe, bent over, and stepped gingerly into the leg-holes. With my cock wagging obscenely at half-mast, I shimmied the panties up my legs, trying not to tear anything. It was a chore to get everything tucked away and the panties stretched around my waist, but finally -- by tilting my cock and tucking it inside -- I managed to keep it hidden below the waistband. At last I felt somewhat more secure, if not normal. No, not normal at all.

In fact at that moment I felt intensely erotic. I held the robe aside and caught my reflection in the mirror. The panties hugged my buttocks in a smooth sensuous curve. I couldn't resist running my hand over it. The material was so sheer and delicate it was almost like nothing, yet it was indeed something. Unable to stop myself, I wagged my hips, admiring the look and feel. I felt inexplicably feminine! 

Reluctantly, I pulled the robe closed and tied it shut, hiding my swollen secret. Once my clothing had been laundered I'd come back here to change, slip the panties back in the hamper, and no one would be the wiser. Feeling clean, refreshed, and strangely transformed, I opened the bathroom door and walked out..

A fire was crackling in the living room. I headed gratefully toward the warmth like the proverbial moth to a flame. Misha had her back to me as she placed more wood on the fire. Her dark hair was tied back, exposing a slender neck that disappeared into her long cotton "granny dress." Backlit by the flames, her lithe body was visible through the material, creating a vision more alluring than if she'd been wearing nothing at all.

Misha turned to face me with a smile as warm as the fire. She sat down on a thick rug in front of it, cradling a glass of wine. The sweet strains of a jazz clarinet piece softly filled the room. She gave me a mischievous look.

"How's this for a clichŽ?" she asked, "Are you ready for the seduction scene?" "I hate predictable endings," I replied, in a lame attempt at being coy. "If this were a movie I might walk out..." I waited for her jaw to drop. "...were the female lead not so attractive."

"Oh my. Flair for drama, Alex?" Misha reached up and handed me a glass of wine. I held swirled it, and watched the flames flicker through the dark, red liquid.

"It makes life interesting," I replied, taking a seat on the sofa across from her. With her eyes now even with my crotch, I had to angle myself so as not to give her a view under the short robe. "In fact," I went on, "That's what I was doing down by the lake. They were holding auditions for a play at the Bathhouse Theater."

"Oh yes! A charming little place, I've watched a few plays there. It's very intimate ... you feel so close to the action." She rose from in front of the fire and sat next to me on the sofa. "Getting a bit warm over there," she explained innocently.

"Yes, it's a wonderful venue. The stage sweeps out into a small gallery. It's what you might call a theatre in the 'semi-round'," I replied, surprised at her familiarity with the place.

"And you auditioned for a role there?" she asked.

"Unsuccessfully I'm afraid. Actually I'm not much of an actor, though I used to think so back in high school. Writing is my real avocation now."

"Are you any good at that?" she teased.

"I try, but writing and getting published are two different propositions. All my efforts so far have been stillborn. I'm about ready to call it quits."

She sighed sympathetically. "It must be hard not to take it personally when your work is rejected." She sensed my frustration, and deftly moved on. "So what made you decide to try stage-acting? Just a lark?"

"No. I've been studying screen writing, hoping to improve my lousy dialogue writing skills. I'm starting to see that actors are almost as much a part of the creative process as the writer. Good actors can transform a decent screenplay into a great story. So you have this interdependence thing."

"Oh, I agree!" Misha grasped my knee for emphasis. "It's like some sort of symbiosis when good actors get something they can sink their teeth into. The chemistry takes over. When that happens, the energy released is almost palpable."

I was smitten with Misha's grasp of a subject so dear to me. I was also smitten with the woman herself. And her hand on my knee was having the predictable effect. Down, boy.

"Exactly. I said, trying to stay on track. "I thought that by 'getting inside' a character - by playing a role -- I might get an actor's sense of what works. I was miserable at the audition though. Totally stunk up the place."

"So you left," she prompted.

"Yeah, before they threw me out." I caught Misha's doubtful look; I was laying it on too thick. "Actually they were starting to pitch for stagehands, so I slipped out the side door."

"And that's when you heard the dog barking in the lake?"

"No. I sat there on the shore for a long time, thinking dark thoughts."

Misha pondered this for a moment. Then she looked at me carefully and asked, "How dark, Alex?" Her eyes held mine. I tore myself away and gazed at the flames. 

"Real dark," I finally replied. "Trust me, you don't want to know." Why did I say that? I didn't even know this woman. Now I can't stop talking to her.

Misha must have sensed my unease. She took my hand and held it in hers. Once again she held me with her gaze, and once again there was the angel's face - the one I'd seen by the lake. Just as it had blocked out bleak, dark sky then, now it was sheltering me from my own darkness. The warmth and genuineness of Misha's concern touched something deep within me. I had to open myself up to her. 

"I guess I was about ready to head for the bottom of the lake," I explained, my voice breaking, "and stay there. Like the rest of the sunken trash." I was rapidly losing it. I shut up and stared into the fire.

Misha probed softly, her voice almost in a whisper now, "But you didn't head for the bottom, did you Alex?"

"Only because that damned dog started barking."

"And you had to play superhero." Misha rose to her knees and moved her face close to mine, like a child about to share a secret. "Have you ever tried role-playing for real, Alex?"

I laughed, a little too hard. Frankly I was relieved to change the subject. "'Role-play for real'? Sounds like an oxymoron if I've ever heard one!"

"You know, masquerading as someone you're not, only in life instead of theatre?"

"Like for example," I prompted, playing dumb.

"Like for example right now, pretending to be a moron!" We both laughed, and I felt the darkness slide back a little farther. 

"Okay," Misha continued. "For example, I can see you are obviously a man." She playfully flipped up the edge of my robe, and then dropped it back into place. Uh, oh. "Have you ever played a woman's--" Suddenly her mind registered what she'd seen under the robe. Before I could move, she reached down and flipped the robe up again. This time she held it aside for a better look. "Whoa! Are those my panties?"

"Ahh ...I, uh ..." My mouth was flapping but the words weren't forming. 

"Let me guess," Misha said, grining now. "Have you ever fantasized about dressing up in women's clothing before, Alex?" I was slow to recover. "Wow! Now who has a 'flair for drama'? Yes, I am indeed of the male persuasion," I huffed, "And heterosexual, and to answer your question, I have never done female impressions, onstage or off. I think I would find it very uncomfortable parading around in a dress, trying to act feminine." I held the robe tightly closed, denying the obvious. 

"But that's my point exactly!" Misha jumped up and sat next to me on the couch. I was instantly aware of her thigh pressing against mine.

"It has to be the ultimate challenge doesn't it?" she asked. "And you could probably carry it off with your fair features and high cheekbones." She stroked her fingers through my longish blond hair, "This is awfully pretty too, just about long enough now for a bob." I was red as a beet now, and it wasn't from the wine. Misha ignored my discomfiture; she was either having too musch fun - or worse - she was going somewhere I wasn't ready to go. Or was I?

Misha pressed on. Her enthusiasm was almost contagious. "I think you could play a fine woman." She reached over and squeezed my breast, then gave my nipple a playful tweak. "We'd have to give you some help in a few places though." "Whoa!" I help my hands up. "You talk like I've already decided to play this role you're creating,"




Role Over: A BDSM Odyssey



"Why not?" Misha asked. "What have you got to lose?"

"First, tell me why you're so interested. We just met. You hardly know me."

"I know a lot about you, Alex. I know that you're a warm decent person. I also think that you've lost your way. You're so absorbed in your own perception of yourself as a failure that you've lost sight of everything else." "And just how would impersonating a female help me?"

"It might just pull you out of this nosedive you're in..." Misha gave me a pointed stare. "...before you hurt yourself. Maybe all you need is a little jolt, Alex. To be different for a moment, so you can see the world differently. 

"I can see you," I offered defensively. And the view is pretty good, I thought.

"But can you feel me Alex? Can you feel what it's like to be me?" Misha grasped my hand and laid it against her breast. She held it there while I felt its warmth and supple firmness through the thin cotton dress. I could even feel her heart beating beneath it, and I was intensely aware of her erect nipple pressed into my palm. My stunned brain toyed with the image long after she finally pulled my hand away.

"Say, you aren't teasing me are you?" I asked, my face an even deeper shade of red now.

"Would you mind if I were?"

"That would be preferable to getting my questions answered with another question." I was confused, and getting a bit feisty from all the teasing.

"Oh, you are a cool one." Misha stood up. "I know just what you need. Follow me," She strode from the room and headed toward the back of the house. She paused at a hall closet, pulled out two large bath-towels, and handed one to me. "They say that water soothes the soul." She smiled - a smile that would melt an iceberg - and then padded off down the hallway.

I had no idea at the time where this would all lead, and I'm not sure I would have done anything different if I did. Sometimes you just have to go in whatever direction looks best. Right now, I thought - admiring Misha's backside - this looked pretty damned good.

(Next: Alex jumps in ... and gets broken-in, with a little help from Misha's roommate.)

3 - IMMERSION

A wooden door with stained glass panels led out onto an enclosed deck. Only the stars were visible above the tall wood fence that screened the deck from neighboring houses. Misha laid the towels on a wide bench that ran along one side of the deck.

Clad only in the thin robe -- and the panties -- I shivered in the wintry night air. "If you thought I was cool before," I said, "I'm downright cold now."

"Shhhh ...Get in here," Misha replied, pulling the cover off a cedar soaking tub. 

Steam tendrils rose from the heated water, beckoning me with the promise of warmth. The curve of Misha's cute butt as she bent to stow the cover promised even more. My cock rose accordingly. 

"We don't have swim-suits." I teased.

"Hmm ... too bad." Without another word, Misha turned her back to me and pulled her dress over her head. 

I stared in rapt attention as the white glow of her panties slid down her legs to the deck. All too quickly she stepped into the tub and submerged herself up to her neck. A slender finger breached the surface and beckoned me to join her. 

Still shivering, I shucked the tiny robe, slid the panties off and stepped down into the water, moving quickly to hide my arousal. I was intensely aware of her unabashed appraisal of my body as I descended into the water beside her. 

We sat silent for a long time, not speaking or touching, just gazing up at the carpet of stars overhead. Occasionally our eyes would descend and meet across the placid, steamy water. I could not guess what was going on behind her calm gaze, but I somehow got the feeling she was looking behind my own eyes, gauging the darkness there.

After what seemed like hours in the serene warmth of the tub I rose to get out. Slightly woozy, I missed the step and fell backward. Misha had risen behind me however, and she reached to catch me. It was an awkward moment, and she made the most of it.

As my backside fell against her wet breasts and stomach, her hand came underneath my arm and cupped my left breast. I was more distracted by her other hand, which had slid up the inside of my thigh until it came to rest against my testicles. Moreover, the force of my weight had wedged her forearm between my slick buttocks. 

Misha laughed as we fell back into the tub together. "Well. That was interesting." She slowly pulled her hand free from beneath me, but as she did so she lightly scraped her fingertips along my nether regions. My buttocks contracted reflexively, slowing her hand's escape. She smiled.

"Yes indeed," she said, "You're definitely a man down there."

"Uh, yes, I am," I replied nervously, "But I thought the man was supposed to do the groping."

"Maybe you're already practicing for that female part," she quipped. She pinched my nipple with her other hand and gave it a playful twist.

"Ow!" "Oh, poor baby ... So sensitive."

Somehow we managed to extricate ourselves from the tub without further incident. Misha handed me a big thick towel and as we both dried off I snuck a few more glances at her magnificent body. Finally-thoroughly aroused and ready for some real action--I slipped the robe back on, stuffed my panties into side pocket, and followed her back toward the living room. A warm fireplace was waiting, I knew, and there was no finer setting for what I had in mind.

4 - TROUBLE IN MIND

We sat by the fire for a long time, watching the flames and talking quietly. Misha sensed I was still depressed, so she delicately avoided discussing my recent failures. Instead, she told me about herself. She was born in the Seattle area and grew up here, enjoying all the benefits of the area, boating hiking and skiing whenever she could. She had attended the University of Washington for three years, majoring in art history. During her fourth year at college, Misha's parents were killed in a car accident while returning from a ski-trip. 

"I was supposed to go on that trip with them," she said, her voice nearly a whisper, "but final exams got in the way." I reached over, squeezed her hand and held it until she was ready to talk again. Only a few moments passed, but I knew I could have held it all night if that's what she had needed. My thoughts of seducing her had faded, but strangely I didn't mind. It was enough to just sit beside her and share the fire's warmth.

After the accident she dropped out of college and-being the only child-settled her parent's affairs. She sold their large house and furnishings as soon as the estate was settled. "It was just too painful to go back-to remember," she explained. "I was lost, miserable and despondent. So I think I know a little about what you're going through."

"I'd say you probably know a lot more," I replied. 

I told her how my own parents had divorced when I was still in high-school. "It's amazing how fast everything changed. It was like an explosion wiped out my whole little universe." Misha listened intently as I explained how I had stayed with friends in order to finish high school.

"What did you do after you graduated?"

"I traveled. I stopped and worked when I needed cash, but mostly I kept moving. Somehow I wound up back here. Homing instinct I guess." There was an old-fashioned clock on the fireplace mantle - it was late. I stood and stretched. "I should let you get to bed. Where are my clothes?"

Misha jumped to her feet. "Oh my god! I forgot to take them out of the washer and put them in the dryer."

"Guess I'll have to drive home naked after all."

"Oh no you don't! Too cold for that! We have a spare bedroom you can use." Misha noticed my surprised look. These little bungalows usually had only two bedrooms. 

"That's right," she said. "I sleep with my roommate." Misha watched my face carefully, trying to gauge my reaction. "Is that so strange?"

"Not at all," I replied. "I have no problem accepting that two people can love each other. In fact I'm envious."

Misha smiled, relieved. "When my parents died I was devastated. I didn't even want to be alive. Maybe a little like you felt this evening."

"Sounds worse," I said sympathetically.

"Anyway, I met Katy in a therapy group. She was counseling the group. It was part of her nursing school training. She was amazing, funny but intense, you know? We talked a lot after the meeting. Then we started hanging out together-nothing sexual at first, sort of like sisters. Gradually I began to regain some enthusiasm for living. I think I owe most of it to the 'transformation.' It turned me around, and allowed me to put the past behind."

"Transformation?"

"My new life-role, of course. Katy taught me how to look at gender-roles like you would a suit of clothes. You can try it on, wear it for awhile, and then keep it or toss it. Determining who you really are is not always easy. Some of us need to take a few risks-to experiment." Misha grasped my knee for emphasis. Her eyes seemed to say that I was one of those who needed to take a few risks. "The important thing is to do whatever feels right for you. I found my new role strange at first, but I think that's actually what helped me come around. To get out of my depression and get on with life."

"How is that?"

"Our preconceived notions and attitudes about sex, and our sexual roles, form the core of our personalities; it's how we see ourselves and others around us. Breaking away from that was a real catalyst for me. It could be for you, too. That's why I asked you earlier about role-playing. It might help."

"Too late. I think I'm beyond redemption." Misha's eyes glimmered in the firelight. "Don't ever think that," she cautioned. "You just need to lose some 'baggage.'" She caught me stifling a yawn. "Looks like I've kept you up beyond your bedtime. Let me show you your bed."

"You're sure you don't mind?"

"Of course not, silly. I'll even fix breakfast and send you off with a full belly tomorrow." This last innocent promise would later take on an entirely different meaning-one I could not have imagined in my wildest fantasies.

I followed Misha out of the room and down the hall to where a small bedroom with a comfortable bed lay ready. We said our good nights and she closed the door behind her. As I slipped out of the robe, the panties fell out of the pocket. I picked them up and stared at them, wondering what it would be like to the role Misha had urged me to try. I had a brief urge to put the panties on, but instead I tossed them onto the chair with the robe and climbed into bed naked. A new role, I thought ... ridiculous. I hoped that sleep would overtake me immediately, but instead I lay there in the darkness listening to the distant pop and snap and snap of logs burning away in the fireplace.

5 - GOOD NIGHT AND GOOD-BYE

Sleep never came. I was still plagued by the twin demons of anxiety and self-doubt that had led me earlier to the edge of the dark waters. Some time later I heard a door open and close, then women's voices. Her roommate must have come home. After a few minutes I could just make out the bed creaks and soft moans that usually indicate two people are having a good time. A very good time, from the sound of it.

I awoke with a start. The pull-down window shade had turned from black to deep indigo, so it must have been near dawn. Inside my tortured kind it was darker than ever though. Misha's spark of hope had been snuffed out by the overwhelming feelings of despair that had plagued me for months. In fact now it was worse, as if her light had only served to emphasize the long shadows of my depression. I had to end it.

In a daze I rose and slipped quietly from the house, still wearing the bathrobe. What did it matter anyway? There was a garden hose lying next to the house. I unhooked it and threw it over my shoulder, not knowing exactly how I'd use it. I had a vague thought about funneling exhaust fumes into my car. Yes, that would work. I began walking to where my car was parked, but as I neared the lake the dark waters beckoned me. I turned toward the lake as if in a trance.

Fortunately no traffic was about yet; a semi-nude man with a garden hose would have made an irresistible target for a bored cop. The cold night air had me shivering by the time I reached the water's edge. I stubbed my toe, cursed, and looked down to find a couple of rocks sticking out of the mud. Now an idea started to take shape.

I dug around the base of the larger rock, pawing and scraping, and eventually using a stick as a tool. At last the rock began to loosen, and then broke free with a wet sucking sound. I lifted it with some difficulty and carried it to the end of the small dock. Then I returned for the hose, the plan complete in my mind's eye.

I secured the hose to the rock a few loops and cross-knots, and then wrapped my feet into the mess with several more turns of the hose. I tried to lift my legs. The rock must have weighed nearly a hundred pounds; definitely what you'd call a "two-man rock." I could barely able to move.

I looked down proudly at my jury-rigged "cement overshoes." At least I could do something right, even it would be the last thing I ever did. The sky had lightened from indigo to pre-dawn grey. Soon I'd be visible from the road. It was time. I shivered uncontrollably; God I was cold. Well that won't last long, I thought, wondering if that bright light you're supposed to see when you die had any warmth to it.

I lay down on the end of the old dock, took a final breath of fetid lake air, and rolled off into the blackness.

Splash!

My plunge downward was brief. The rock struck the lake bottom with a dull thud and buried itself in the ooze. The hose somehow remained attached, and with it my ankles. Moments later my lungs began screaming and I realized I might have made a mistake. Surely carbon monoxide wouldn't have been this painful. 

I threw my head back, struggling to find that precious breath of air. Fortunately, I had misjudged the lake-depth here, but just barely. My nose broke the placid surface and found air. I drew a breath. My lungs stopped burning. Then I was really pissed off. 

Great, just great. I fucked up my own suicide. I always thought the lake was deeper here when we used to fish for trout as kids. Did they fill it in? Could the ducks have crapped that much in ten years? Then I remembered, everything was deeper, bigger and higher when you were a kid. Now here I was, stuck to the bottom of the lake with only my nostrils poking out and snorting air like a seal, trying to sustain a life I no longer wanted. 

Oh well. At least I wasn't going anywhere. I consoled myself with the sudden realization that hypothermia might actually finish the job. 

6 -RESCUE

I had stopped feeling the cold and was getting sleepy when I saw the lights approaching. Funny, I thought, near-death witnesses always say you see just one light. I heard muffled shouts-why muffled? Oh yeah, my ears are underwater. Footsteps clomped over boards, growing closer, and a light hit my eyes, blinding me. I raised my hands toward it. More muffled shouts. Something touched my hand--a stick. What the hell? Were they trying to push me under? 

I grabbed the end of the stick and pulled. It immediately broke off in my hand. My exertions caused the rock to settle deeper into the mud. I went with it, and my nose slipped below the surface. Oh shit, not again!

Just as my lungs were ready to burst, I heard a splash and felt someone put their arms around me. Another splash, and more hands were pulling me. I felt my feet rise a little, and my head broke the surface. I sucked in a few great gasping breaths. 

"Thank god, he's still breathing!" It was Misha's voice. My angel again. "Alex! Can you hear me?" "S-s-sure," I sputtered.

"Katy! I think he's tangled up in this hose. Take this loose end and wade ashore with it. I'll stay here and try to keep his head above water. When you get your footing, pull like hell. Hang in there Alex." Misha cradled my head in her hands as Katy pulled on the hose. Slowly, my feet rose from the bottom. The two women working together managed to drag me and my rock ashore. They untied my feet and laid me out on the grass. I was vaguely aware that my borrowed bathrobe had fallen open and that my cold-shriveled privates were exposed. Then I felt a soft hand brush across my stomach as the robe was pulled over me. For the second time that night I looked up to see an angel's face, only this time there were two. They were soaking wet, but both smiling.

Misha spoke first. "Alex, we've got to stop meeting like this." My attempt to laugh came out more like a shivering convulsion. The two faces clouded with concern.

"Alex, this is my roommate Katy. She's a nurse. She's going to give you a brief examination, and then we'll get you back to the house, Okay?"

Katy began checking my vital signs, while my eyes checked her over. She had a serious but pretty face, framed by short dark hair and pierced by eyes that shone like obsidian in the dawn gloom. Her breasts were larger than Misha's, but small enough that she could go braless in a pinch. As she was now, judging from the fat nipples poking out through her wet shirt. I had an inexplicable urge to bury my head in that warm valley between them. She shone her flashlight in my eyes and I blinked.

"He's nearly hypothermic," said Katy. "We have to warm him up right away." Katy helped me up while Misha gathered up their coats from where they had laid them before plunging into the lake. Huddling together, we managed to cover the three of us with two coats, and staggered back to the house, wet and shivering. A few predawn commuters buzzing along the lakeshore slowed to gape at the dripping six-legged monster from Greenlake.

"To the hot tub, now!" Katy commanded as we slogged into the house. She stoked up the fireplace while Misha and I headed for the back door. 

Misha stripped her wet clothes off and then helped me out of my wet robe. I should have been enjoying the view, but all I could think of was how cold I was. At last I sank down into the warm waters. My teeth were still chattering when-a few moments later-Katy stepped out in the dawn light, peeled off her own wet clothes, and slid down into the tub. As warmth and sanity slowly returned to me, I became acutely aware of the two exceptionally attractive nude women sitting on either side of me. I also felt bad about what they had gone through to get me here.

"I'm sorry," I offered lamely.

"Sorry for what, Alex? Misha asked softly.

"I don't know. For getting you involved I guess."

"Remember Alex, I found you last night, not the other way around."

"Yes, but--"

"Hush." Misha held her finger up to my lips, "Don't talk now--not yet. Let's go in by the fire and have something warm to drink. Later, after we're all warmed up inside we can talk. If you still feel like it. Wait here while I get some towels." She got out of the tub and ran into the house, golden hues of morning light washing across her retreating form. Katy noticed me staring and gave me a curious look.

"You like her don't you Alex?"

"I'm sorry. It's that obvious is it?"

"Yes it is." She raised her eyebrows a little and gazed intently at me, "Did she tell you that we're lovers?"

"Yes."

"Does that make you feel uncomfortable, Alex?"

"No." Uncomfortable with this line of questioning, I changed the subject. "You saved my life. Why?"

"We haven't saved it yet Alex," Katy replied rising from the tub, "not until we can be sure you don't try and kill yourself again." I was pondering this-and the sight of her magnificent body emerging from the tub-when Misha returned holding an armful of towels.

"Two for everyone," Misha said, handing them out, "Then run for the fireplace!"

I stepped carefully from the tub and grabbed my two towels, wrapping one around my waist and the other around my neck. As I followed the women inside my reawakened mind began playing tricks on me. I thought about Misha's phrase, 'Two for everyone,' wondering if she'd been referring to towels or to the three of us. What did the French call it? Oh yes, a menage au trois. 




Role Over: A BDSM Odyssey



7 - DARKNESS AND LIGHT

We gathered in front of the fire and sipped hot cider until we were thoroughly warmed, both inside and out. We all had large towels wrapped around us, and Katy and Misha had smaller ones around their hair. It would have felt quite cozy but for the undercurrent of tension in the room. I had after all just tried to kill myself. The small talk soon waned until finally the only sound in the room was the crackling of the fire. I knew they were waiting for me to begin.

"How did you find me?" I asked, finally breaking the silence.

Katy explained that she was still awake and heard the lock click as I slipped out. She searched the house, discovered I was missing, and woke up Misha. 

Misha continued the story. "I remembered your clothes hadn't been dried yet. When I checked and saw they were still here, along with your shoes, panicked. Katy kept her head though. She's the one who suggested we try the lake."

"It wasn't hard to put it together," Katy explained, "Misha had already told me a little about your mental state," Katy said, "I figured we had an irrational and possibly suicidal man running loose in the neighborhood, clad only in a woman's bathrobe. Now who could resist the temptation to go after that?" Katy's smile was difficult to read. I got the impression she was mocking me.

"You saved my life by getting there when you did," I said somberly.

"It was a close thing," Misha said. "If we hadn't heard the splash--"

"My 'death-roll' into the lake."

"You gave us a hell of a scare, Alex," Misha admonished.

"Sorry. I didn't want you to be involved. It was a stupid idea. Virginia Woolf killed herself by drowning. It was pretty presumptuous for a failed writer like me to try and copy her." I paused, searching for words. "I guess I'm glad you found me."

Misha's eyebrows shot up. "You guess?" I didn't answer. 

"Hey, I just wanted my robe back," Katy said, breaking the awkward silence.

"I'm sorry about that, Katy. I'll have it dry-cleaned for you." I swept my eyes down the exposed curve of her neck and shoulder. "If it's any consolation, I think you look better without one."

Katy returned my look with a cool gaze. "Careful Alex. Didn't Misha warn you that I don't like men?"

"That makes two of us." It just slipped out. I instantly regretted it.

"What do you mean by that?" Katy asked.

"Oh I don't know. Nothing. Everything, I guess. Fucking bastards. Sorry." Katy's eyes lit up with curiosity. "No, please go on. I'd like to know more, Alex. I assume you're not speaking in sexual terms; it's obvious you're heterosexual. You don't like men Alex as a group, is that right?

"What's to like? You've seen the shit men do. And there's things you haven't seen--" I stopped. I had promised myself that the stories wouldn't come back with me. I stared at the flames, trying to regain my composure.

Katy and Misha watched my face and waited. They knew I had more to say. Something awful. Something felt deeply yet unseen. Minutes passed. A log broke in half and settled deeper into the embers.

Misha knelt before me, her voice as soft as ash. "Alex? Please tell us."

Katy laid a hand on my shoulder, her touch feather-light yet charged with electricity. "You must, Alex. This thing won't go away on its own. You have to face it. If you don't, it will eat you alive. Look at what happened tonight."

They were right of course. I had come too close to the edge and there was no stepping back. The flames were now a watery orange blur. I opened my mouth to speak but no words came out. 

Misha grasped my hands and held them tightly in her own. Firelight glimmered in her eyes. The dam I had so carefully constructed began to crack. I tried one last time to stop myself ... Then, somehow, it didn't matter. 

"Ohhh... God--" I sobbed and fell forward.

Misha caught me in her arms. Katy moved in to support both of us. Soft, warm arms guided me down to the rug. I was still fighting it. My sobs came out as wracking convulsions.

"Let it go Alex. Just let go." It was Katy -- the therapist, the healer. "Scream. It's okay, the neighbors are all at work. Come on scream!"

It ripped up through me like a hot spear, carrying all the momentum my tortured soul could put into it. It exploded out of me with primal force, striking the walls and echoing back as individual notes; broken bits of anger and sorrow. Finally it reached a fearsome crescendo, and then faded to a soft keening. I was completely spent.

"Good scream Alex," said Katy. "That was real primal."

"My God, Alex. Are you okay?" Misha stroked my forehead.

"He'll be alright, just let him come down slowly."

I'm don't know how long I lay there. I felt empty inside, like a vessel that had been turned over and shaken out. Katy and Misha were talking quietly, and though my brain didn't process their words, their voices filled the awful void. Something had died within me, something else had been born. There was hope now, and light. 

Eventually my breathing returned to normal, and I became aware again of my surroundings. Katy had stoked up the fire until it roared. The room was stifling. 

Misha noticed I was sweating. She pulled my towel aside. I was naked, but I didn't care. The women dropped their own towels and sat with me like it was the most natural thing in the world. Light from the fire reflected off our bodies like in an old painting. A Rembrandt perhaps, or a Vermeer.

When at last we began to talk again, the words came more easily than I expected.

Misha got right to the point, "You lied to me didn't you Alex?" I nodded.

"It was not about being an unsuccessful writer. It was about the war, wasn't it?"

I started to nod again but Misha's eyes told me more was needed. "Yes," I said, "but it's not what you think. I didn't slaughter any villagers or anything like that." I stopped and stared into the flames. It seemed to help. "It was a bad month," I continued. "The road mines had chewed us up pretty bad."

"You lost some friends." Katy's voice was flat, without sympathy. I could almost hear her say the words: 'warmonger.' 'babykiller.'

"Yes, but not on this day." That got her interest. "We were escorting some trucks. There was a delay as we got to a village, but I was at the end of the convoy so I couldn't see what happened. After we got finally got moving again I saw all these villagers lined up along the road. They were just standing there, staring at us as we passed."

I paused as the familiar images took shape in my mind's eye, "It was surreal. Nobody was waving or moving, or anything. They looked like fucking statues. Except-" My voice broke. "-except this one woman."

Katy gently prompted, "What about the woman, Alex?"

I stalled. "There was this blister bag lying next to the road. It-"

"Blister bag?" Katy asked.

"A big rubber bladder-for fuel. You can sling them under a chopper or put them on a truck. They weigh several tons when they're full."

"And this one was on the ground?" "Yeah. Rolled off a truck. Chains must have busted."

Misha nodded. Katy shook her head, as if she knew what was coming.

I used Katy's eyes to help pull the words out. "There were these kids. You'd see them everywhere. They'd line the roads whenever a convoy came through. We used to throw them gum, candy, rations-whatever we had. So they were always there." "So there was a child under the fuel bladder?" Katy asked.

I nodded. "The woman was the child's mother. She was wailing and sobbing like there was no tomorrow. Then, as we passed her, she looked up at me. Something-" I paused, really struggling now. "Something there," I choked, "something in her eyes." I shook my head to ward off the ghosts, and then stared into the flames. No one spoke. Now I was angry. I had to finish this.

"You asked me why I don't like men? It's because we're all killers. Either through intention or just by stupid accidents, we destroy life. Women create life and men destroy it. It's as simple as that."

8 - THE GIFT 

Katy was the first one to break the long silence. "Lay back Alex. I want to show you something." I lay back on the rug, hands behind my head. 

Katy moved up behind me with her legs spread. "Now lift your head and rest it in my lap. Don't be shy. Here." She draped my arms over with her thighs and placed the back of my head against her bare crotch. Once we were arranged, she placed a hand over each of my breasts and gently squeezed. I immediately began getting aroused.

"Now look down Alex," she commanded, "What do you see."

"The world's most comfortable armchair?"

"No silly, Look at yourself. What is it?"

"I would say it's an erection, or at least the beginnings of one."

"And I would say you're correct. Now watch this." She gestured to Misha, 

Misha, who'd been watching with a great deal of interest, got up and retrieved a bottle from the mantle. Then she knelt next to me and poured some of its contents into her palm.

"Relax, Alex. It's just oil."

Misha placed her hand over the end of my penis, which almost instantly became thoroughly erect. She pulled downward, slowly. I sucked in a breath as her oiled fingers stroked the length of my shaft from tip to base.

"Are you watching Alex?" Katy asked, "don't close your eyes...just keep watching."

"Ah...ummm." Both women had my full attention.

Misha continued stroking her hand up and down, within moments I felt my climax rushing towards the surface, as unstoppable as any volcano. Intense waves of joy rippled through my entire body, and warm jets of milky cum shot up through my cock and spewed out between Misha's fingers to land on my stomach and chest. 

I lay there gasping as Misha stroked my pulsing cock to milk out the last drops.

Katy reached down and gathered a white mass of my seed onto her fingers. She brought her hand up to my face and held it there. 

"Do you see this Alex?"

"Yeah, pretty hard to miss."

"What is it?"

"It's cum."

"Yes, but what is it really?"

Recalling that Katy was a nurse, I gave her the technical term. "Sperm?" "Right. And what is sperm?"

"Uh, dangerous?" Wrong answer, smartass.

Katy thrust her dripping fingers into my mouth before I could react. Then she quickly pressed her mouth over mine, grasped my head from behind, and held it there, our lips locked in a wet, sticky embrace. 

I struggled for a few seconds, but Katy was exceptionally strong, and I suddenly felt weak in her arms. We lay there for a long moment while my own sperm trailed down my throat. Only when she was certain that I'd swallowed some did she finally release me. As she pulled away I could see remnants of it glistening on her still-parted lips.

"Umm.." She licked her lips. It doesn't taste dangerous, does it?"

"I guess not," I whispered, still stunned.

"Of course not. That's because it's life, Alex!" Katy pressed my head between her hands, trying to emphasize the truth she wanted me to see. "You said women create life and men destroy it. You are so wrong there. You can taste the truth now, can't you?" I nodded, yes.

"Okay!" she exclaimed, rising up from the floor, "Now that we've straightened out that little misconception of yours, let's see what Misha and I can do to help turn your life around."

"How," I asked, already knowing what their answer would be.

"You'll change roles, like Misha suggested. 

"But I can't do that. I-"

"Alex!" It was Misha now. She was ran her oily hands over my stomach and chest. "What have you possibly got to lose?"

I couldn't think. So much had happened in one night. I had no idea how much more would happen before another night passed. I had been weak and hurting, but now there was a glimmer of hope. Crazy as it seemed, maybe this role-change was what I needed. I looked up at Katy and Misha, and saw my surrender reflected in their smiles

"You really think it will help?"

Katy and Misha exchanged glances. Without a word they arose, grasped my hands, and pulled me to my feet. They led me into their bedroom, and I watched as they both donned light silk robes. Now I was the only remaining unclothed person in the room, and I was feeling a bit self conscious about it. I should have known what would follow.

Katy rummaged around in a dresser drawer, and then turned to face me. She had something cupped in her hands but I couldn't see what it was.

"Close your eyes and hold out your hands," she ordered. 

I closed my eyes. Something fell into my hands. It was soft and extremely light. Panties, I thought, forgetting to breathe.

"Okay, now open."

I opened my eyes. They were panties alright; white silky ones with narrow bands of silvery stretch-lace around the waist and leg openings. 

"They're yours darling," Katy declared. "I'm about your size in the butt. Later we can get more stuff, just for you, but a girl has to start somewhere." She stared at me and raised her eyebrows expectantly.

"You want me to put these on?" "It's a start, Alex," Misha said. "You have to change...to begin a renewal...so you don't lose yourself in the past." I hesitated. So much about this felt right. But still, wasn't it wrong, somehow? 

Seeing my indecision, Katy smirked and whispered to Misha, loud enough so that I could hear, "Just like a man, no guts, no glory." She turned to me with a mocking smile, "If you ever decide to join the rest of us women we'll be in the kitchen." She grabbed Misha's hand and they both ran from the room. As there laughter faded into the distance I realized they were not only challenging me, but they had also given me the space and privacy to make my decision-my commitment-alone.

I held the panties out in front of me, studying the delicate white folds and lacy trim. Soft light from the stained glass night-table lamp shone through the almost sheer material. Wearing these would be practically like wearing nothing at all. I looked down at myself and suddenly realized that I'd been naked in front of these women for at least an hour or more. And it had felt natural.

No guts Katy had said. Hah! How hard could it be? I could always drop the charade whenever I felt like it. Anyway, I'd already worn a pair the night before, though it had been an emergency. Oh well, I thought, chuckling inwardly, I've been trying to get into women's panties all my adult life, just not quite this way. 

Slowly, deliberately, I bent over, placed my bare feet through the leg-holes, and slid them up my legs. Something about the way Katy had set this up made me intensely aware how much it differed from the night before. This time it was for real, and I was suddenly afraid I might be getting into something that could never be undone.

I pulled the panties up into place, then looked down to see the effect. God knows I was already feeling it. It was so erotic! The panties hugged my buttocks in a smooth sensuous curve like no BVDs ever had. And they were so light-almost like nothing! 

Yet it most certainly was something, as my penis-bulging obscenely behind the lacy front panel-attested. Even the room felt different to me. It was like I'd gotten inside some forbidden boudoir and found myself surrounded by women, women's things, and the smell of women. Feeling strangely and utterly transformed, I walked from the room.

As I left the bedroom I caught my own reflection in the door mirror. I paused and marveled at the curious image there. Was that merely a man posing in women's underwear? Or was there something more, something deeper and more profound. Feeling strangely off-balance, and more than a little embarrassed, I walked down the hallway toward the kitchen. For some reason I thought of that old saw about going "out of the frying pan and into the fire."

Misha squealed as she saw me come into the kitchen. "Oh! God, you're so cute!" Katy obviously agreed. She walked over and ran her hand across my silk-sheathed buttocks as if she owned them. "Some women would die for an ass like that," she murmured in my ear. She finished off with a pinch and a slap on my bottom, and moved back over to the sink. 

I blushed beet-red and tried my best to hide a serious erection. Fortunately I was starving, and the breakfast that Katy and Misha laid out provided the necessary distraction. I quickly forgot myself-and my odd state of undress-as we sat down and laughed and ate together like dormitory chums.

After breakfast, I got up and collected the dirty dishes. As I stood rinsing them at the sink, I felt the conversation behind me lag. I turned to see both women staring at my backside admiringly. I had almost forgotten how sheer the panties were. The women were obviously enjoying the show. I flushed and started getting erect again.

"Turn around cutie," Katy teased. I turned to face them, my engorged penis threatening to escape its fragile silk cocoon. Both women raised their eyebrows and smiled.

"That's no way for a lady to behave," Katy playfully admonished. She turned to Misha. "I need to turn in. I'm due back on-shift at four." She kissed Misha and whispered something in her ear. Then she turned and hugged me. 

"Relax and enjoy yourself, Alex," Katy whispered. She gave my ass a hard squeeze. "You're our responsibility now." She kissed me fully on the mouth, and before I could ask what she meant, she turned and left the room. 

Misha got up and came over to me, wearing a mischievous smile. Her robe had fallen open just enough for me to get a glimpse of her breasts. Naturally, she caught me looking. 

"Now, now, young lady. Behave." Misha grabbed my hands playfully. "I think you had better come with me." She dragged me from the kitchen toward a doorway that I suspected led down to the basement. I followed dutifully along, content in the knowledge that I had just found paradise, albeit a rather strange version.

10 - THE BASEMENT

Misha led me down the stairs and into a windowless basement room. It was nearly empty except for a padded table in the center, lit brightly by small heat lamps suspended high above. A sheet covered the table, draping down to the floor and hiding whatever was underneath. The rest of the room was softly bathed by indirect light from several wall sconces. It felt like a cross between an operating theater and a dungeon. A small chest of drawers sat against one wall, and on top of it an array of bottles and folded towels. A light, flowery scent in the air suggested the bottles contained oils and lotions.

Misha walked over to the table and glanced demurely over her shoulder at me. "By now, I shouldn't even have to ask if you're shy. I'll go first." She slipped out of her robe, climbed up on the table, and lay facedown. 

I stood there, transfixed by the side of her smooth supine form. The pale twin globes of her ass glowed under heat lamps like some exotic buffet. 

"Ahem..." Misha pointed to the bottles. "The oil is over there. You do give backrubs don't you?"

"Oh, uh yes. I do," I replied. "And the front too. That is, uh, if you-"

"In time, my sweet. All in good time."

A serious massage was out of the question. My hands had a mind of their own, and tonight's mission was to explore and worship. Fortunately, Misha didn't mind my lack of finesse. She didn't even complain when my greasy fingers fumbled the bottle and created a major oil spill on her back. 

"You can just spread the excess down lower," Misha said, pulling the towel aside.

"Okay, sure." I ran my slick hands down over her firm ivory buttocks and kept going, down the smooth shaven expanse of her legs to her ankles. The journey back up was even better, moving along the insides of her legs, pushing wavelets of excess oil with my hands. Uncertain about how much I could get away with, I stopped near the top of her thighs and went to work on her back again.

"All the way down my spine now, please," Misha whispered. 

All the way? I didn't know whether she wanted me to stop at the small of her back or to go further, below the belt so to speak. 




Role Over Ch. 02



Author's note#

This is the second story in a series telling of the rewards available to adventurous couples willing to share and play out their most erotic sexual fantasies.

In this tale my couple delve into the wild world of dogging.

*****

I hope I'm right in saying this, but each of us has a sexual preference. One unique way of achieving that dreamt of, mythically perfect and long lasting ecstatic orgasm. 

With me it was a hand-job.

Nothing else quite did it.

Not self masturbation. 

But laying on my back while a skilled woman, a master craftswoman, takes control of my cock and over twenty minutes or so, works me up to that magical point of no return. I honestly preferred it to a normal fuck.

My wife, (Debs) on the other hand (unintended pun) gets off riding on top of me. Or at least she did until the day we agreed to discuss our personal sexual nirvanas. 

But let's not move on too soon. 

Let me tell you about Debs, or to give her her full names, Deborah Susan Brown. 

She had just had her traumatic thirtieth birthday and was an art teacher at the local girls school. 

Debs is average height for a woman, slim with distinctive auburn hair. And attractive, but in a warm, cuddly girl-next- door sort of a way. 

Sadly she preferred to hide her looks and figure by dressing like a 1960s hippie, with floor length skirts, denim tops, flat shoes and John Lennon rose-tinted glasses. 

Debs never wore makeup at work. 

This way she came across as homely, rather than sexy.

O'h yes, and I'm a maths teacher at the same school and we meet in the staff room for lunch and morning break.

And we'd been happily married for nearly six years. 

Neither of us wants children.

So back to the story.

It all began one Sunday afternoon when we were wiling away an idle couple of hours pleasuring each other on our bed. 

I had set up my laptop computer on her dressing table and she was learning a few new moves from a DVD called, 'Amazing hand-job techniques'. 

I was the lucky guy rating her new skills. 

Debs had always given me exciting hand-jobs which only very seldom failed to produce a cum-gusher ejaculation.

I was on a high, relishing her new moves and trying to conjure up fresh mental images that would trigger the point of no return.

"Debs?" I said in passing, "do you ever fantasise about jerking off other guys?"

"I sometimes wonder what it would be like," she said, concentrating both hands on the head of my cock.

"Wonder about what in particular?" I pressed her.

"Other men's cocks, what it would feel like to hold them, you know, big ones, black ones. But it's only a fantasy. I'd never actually do it."

"And do you dream of riding these guy's cocks? I asked.

"We're talking about fantasies here right? Not actually going out there and doing it?"

"Fantasies, of course!" I reassured her, but I was secretly fascinated to hear what she had to say.

'Well," she began, "don't blame me if you hear something you don't want to hear."

"Don't worry Debs," I said, "I'm getting harder just waiting." 

"My main fantasy, the one I imagine when I'm riding you, is me on top of a huge black cock with several other men waiting for me to fuck them. They've all got their cocks our ready Then I fuck them all - everyone of them bareback and coming inside me!"

"I never imagined anything like that Debs," I said with a whistle that I really meant, 'Wow!'

"It's just what I fantasise when I want to come," she added.

"And do you take it anally for these fantasy guys, blow them and stuff?" I said.

"Dear god no!" she exclaimed, "I just want to fuck them, nothing else. I think the stink of their unwashed cocks would put me off blowing them! Anyway you know I don't do that."

And I did. No matter how many times I asked or how drunk she was, she had never given me a blow-job.

The room was quiet for a while as we both thought about what we had just said.

Then I added, "Would you ride another guy - a stranger, if I was there to watch and protect you?"

Debs stopped stroking my cock and looked up at me quizzically.

"For real you mean?" She said.

I nodded.

"Where's this come from all of a sudden? I thought we were just swapping fantasies," she added, her fingers circling the rim of my cock.

"Look I'll show you what I mean," I said, standing up and walking around the bed and sitting at the laptop. My cock still standing rigidly to attention. Debs giggled but came and sat besides me curious at where this was going.

I quickly went to my favourite porn site and did a search for dogging videos.

After scrolling down a list of titles I clicked on the one I was looking for.

The video opened on a scene in a wood somewhere. The camera was focussed on a slightly chubby but sexy 30-something blonde standing in high heels. All she had on were black stockings held up with a matching suspender belt and a push up bra. 

She was looking about cautiously and talking softly to the guy behind the camera.

Debs cuddled closer and casually resumed the hand job while staring at the screen.

A minute or so later 3 men shuffled into view, their heads out of shot. But each had his erect cock in hand, massaging slowly to maintain their erections.

"Jeez," said Debs, "is this for real?"

"Keep watching," I said.

The blonde then bent forward, her back parallel with the ground and steadied herself on a tree trunk, opened her legs wide and exposed her shaved sex to the men.

I felt Debs' hand grip tighter on my prick as she watched the first guy mount the blonde from behind and fuck her until he came, gripping her waist as his thrusting slowed and he began to groan.

As the first man withdrew the second immediately took his place and began dogging her with the same urgent upward thrusts.

Debs gasped in amazement as the second guy climaxed, withdrew and was immediately replaced by the third. By then four other men shuffled into view, cocks in hand and joined the queue to fuck the blonde.

"Is this something like your fantasy? " I asked.

Before she could reply the video ended. "Rewind and play again," demanded Debs.

As it began to play again Debs pushed me back on the bed, turned so she was facing the laptop and began to ride my rampant cock like a crazy rodeo cowboy.

As she watched the blonde begin to take the seven cocks again she began to groan and said, "Oh god, fuck me like that!" As the third guy climaxed Debs groaned with pleasure and gasped "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" as she climaxed.

Twenty minutes later she wanted to ride me again but demanded the video played. Again she climaxed with loud gasps and more, "O'h Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

Next morning Debs had a free teaching schedule so I went into school as normal leaving her pottering around the house in slippers and one of her many colourful kaftans. Her yellow Volkswagen Caravanette covered with multicoloured flowers stickers was still parked in the driveway as I drove away. 

It was only when I went into the staff room at lunchtime that the deputy head told me Debs had called in sick and for me not to worry. 

Of course I did. Debs was never sick - not even a headache.

I arrived home just after five-o-clock and noticed her van had been moved and the engine cover still warm. Wherever she'd been, she hadn't been home very long.

Unlocking the front door I called out her name and she replied I was to come upstairs to see what she'd bought.

Dumping my briefcase and a sheaf of homework for marking in the hallway I skipped up the stairs two at a time to see what it was that couldn't wait.

I stopped in my tracks in the doorway to the bedroom.

There, standing beside the dressing table was the blonde from the dogging video. 

Only it wasn't - it was Debs in a short bob-cut blonde wig. She wore the same six strap suspender belt, seamed black stockings and four inch stilettos. Her breasts were bursting out of a push up bra and she had put on lipgloss and eyeshadow.

Makeup!

As I stared she turned and bent forward over the dressing table, pert ass facing skywards on her high heels. Then she spread her legs revealing her gorgeous shaved cunt.

"What are you waiting for?" she said forcefully, "Get over here and fuck me - come inside me for once will you?"

But I had to pause look and take in the wildly erotic sight of her seamed stockings, the silken sheen contouring her shapely legs from stocking top to the heel of her stiletto heels. The vertical lines of her suspenders emphasising the milk white of her thighs, framing the perfect curves of her ass. The picture was a vignette of thrilling lines and curves of her lacy suspender belt as it followed the contour of her lower back.

I wanted to weep with aching pleasure as I fell in love with my new, ultra sexy, Debs.

As I dropped my trousers to the floor my cock was hard and rampant.

We had never had sex without me wearing a thick condom before.

But Debs was watching me in the mirror and as I went to remove my shirt she said, " Leave the rest of your clothes on and take me from behind as you are - just like the video."

Within a few seconds I was hard up inside her - right up to my balls. 

She let out a sigh of pleasure as she felt me enter her, followed by more groans of delight as I began thrusting hard upwards.

Instinctively I ran my hands around her waist feeling for her seductive suspender belt and stocking tops. 

The sensation was something I'd never experienced before and I held her waist tight as I rushed towards my climax. The touch of her silken lingerie added a new and heighten level of arousal.

My orgasm came like a train out of a tunnel and I almost screamed with pleasure as I came hard and fast, pumping cum inside her,

Debs tightened up the muscles in her cunt in an attempt to milk every drop of semen out of me. Then she climaxed too, shuddering with delight and groaning loudly with pleasure.

Spent, I slumped forward on her back, my dick slowly shrinking inside her, cum slowly oozing from her cunt.

To my amazement Debs said, "Fuck me again, fill me full of your cum!"

"Give me a minute or two to recover love." I said, my cock now soft after its efforts.

"No, now!" she demanded forcefully. 

Obediently I straightened up, my cock popping out of her warm, moist cunt. Strings of cum hung from my knob before dripping on the bedroom carpet. The air smelled of perfume, sweat and semen.

Without waiting she turned, knelt down on both knees in front of me and began to give me a gentle hand-job.

The whole scene was so erotic that I started to harden again.

To my amazement she gently pulled back my foreskin and kissed the head of my semen- smeared cock with her glossy lips.

This was forbidden territory. 

As I watched, praying she would blow me, she took the head, then the shaft into her mouth. And began to suck me off.

For a few seconds I closed my eyes as we entered nirvana.

But I'd got it all wrong.

She did begin to give head but soon as I stiffened between her lips, she stood up, bent forward over the dressing table, assuming her open leg position.

I stood, feeling confused as my prick throbbed in the still air.

Then she made eye contact with me through the mirror, anticipating me dogging her for a second time.

So I began fucking her again, but it took much longer than the first time as I was not used to consecutive ejaculations.

This time I closed my eyes and began to imagine we were in a wood where I was just one of several guys taking my turn to fuck the blonde in the six strap suspender belt, stockings and heels.

She was still wet with my first cum, some of it dripping down the inside of her thighs onto her nylons, so it felt as if I really was having 'sloppy seconds."

Reenergised I began to thrust harder, grunting like a rutting animal. 

Debs encouraged me by using dirty language and insulting me for not fucking her hard enough.

"If you can't get it up, fuck off and make way for a real man who can give me a proper humping and fill me with thick jizz!" she said nastily.

That was too much. 

Deep in the roots of my prick I felt a switch click and knew I had just passed the point of no return.

The sap began to rise. My shaft thickened and without thinking I began thrusting harder, our bodies slapping together as we rhythmically hit the buffers, again and again.

Instinctively my hands groped her hips, feeling down each stockinged leg and suspender strap, searching for somewhere to pull her body closer.

With every thrust a waft of semen and sweat filled my nostrils.

Debs held tight to the dressing table, straining to keep her legs wide apart while balancing on her high heels.

"O'h God!" She shrieked, oblivious of whether or not the neighbours could hear us rutting

The wave of ecstasy crashed on the beach and I cried out with pleasure as the first pulse of cum exploded from my prick, pumping string after string of warm sticky semen into Debs' glorious cunt.

The head of my prick was almost unbearably sensitive as still it pulsed.

Debs moaned with ecstasy, pushing her gorgeous ass hard back on me, squeezing my shaft rhythmically with the lips of her vagina, milking every last drop of semen from deep inside me. 

Then my thrusting began to slow and my shaft soften again, but Debs reached behind her, trying hard to keep me from slipping out of her.

For the second time in ten minutes I slumped forward, my chest on Debs' beautiful back, my hands still feeling for her stocking tops and suspender straps.

Debs was still, her body tensed as if ready for another cock to enter her.

Gradually I straightened up. My dick now hung limply, a string of semen sticking to my rumpled trousers. The head turning from purple to a less aggressive pink.

But I struggled to take my hands away from her stockings, 'God' I was in love again!

Forget hand jobs, it held no attraction for me any longer.

This was now my sexual fixation, my new fetish.

Eventually I pulled away but Debs remained bent forward in her new favourite dogging position. She too had strings of cum oozing from the lips of her sensual vagina.

We both smelled strongly of sex.

It took a few minutes for the spell to break.

Then Debs began to sob.

At first I thought she was laughing, her shoulders shrugging up and down like someone stifling some great joke.

But there were real tears streaming down her cheeks when I stood her up and turned her round to face me.

"Did I hurt you Debs?" I ask in real concern.

But she shook her head gently and smiled.

"Quite the opposite," she said softly, dabbing a tearful eye with the heel of a hand and sniffing.

"It was wonderful," she added, "for a while I thought I was in paradise!"

I took her in my arms and held her close to me, our legs touched and once again I was reminded of her stockings and suspenders.

"Thank you my lover," she whispered, "Lie back on the bed and I'll give you the most sexy hand-job you can imagine. You've earned it."

I thought for a moment then shook my head. "No thank you Debs," I said, "I've sort of gone off hand jobs. I think I'll wait for another half an hour, then finish off what we began earlier!"