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Something Else

By: klingongal



"Bite me."

"What?" I asked, mid-stroke. 

"Bite me! Bite me on the neck!" Shawna gasped as I paused.

Well, not one to say no to a gorgeous woman that I'm fucking, I promptly obliged. I sank my rather nicely sharp teeth into Shawna's neck, barely breaking the skin. She immediately gasped and bucked underneath me as she orgasmed. Of course, this immediately brought me to a climax, and as I came inside of her I sucked and bit a little harder, making our mutual orgasm one of the best I've ever had.

Panting heavily, I rolled off of Shawna and reached for a cigarette. 

"Damn, that was fucking intense!", Shawna remarked as I lit up. 

This was the second time that I had fucked Shawna. We had met at a local "goth" club. She was totally decked out - black hair, eye liner, lipstick, clothes, the works. And I have to admit, her more than ample figure was a fantastic turn-on for me, too, after the diet of skinny chicks that I had been mindlessly screwing. This woman had places for me to hold onto. She didn't mind a little pain, either. She liked it rough and hard, and I was more than willing to meet her needs.

I finished my cig and lay on my side, looking at her. Damn, this was a FINE woman. I wondered if she realized how close she had come tonight. How close she had come to the end.

======

Shawna took a last puff on her cigarette and put it out. She looked at the man lying next to her. God, what a hunk. He was gorgeous; dark skin, dark hair, dark eyes. She loved dark things. And when he bit her neck...GOD she wished at that moment that he was a real vampire, that he would really bite her. And...do...something. She didn't know what. But she felt it, inside of her, that she wanted...something. More. 

She didn't know what she wanted to do now...did she want to sleep here, next to him? Snuggle up next to him, pass the night in his arms? Leave? What? She didn't want to appear that she was falling in love or anything. Best to keep things impersonal. 

======

I watched as she thought about what to do. I could tell that she didn't want to appear weak, needy. So I made the decision for her. Pulling her close, I lightly nibbled on her ear, and whispered, "Stay...I want you again...I want to make you scream this time..."

======

John had made Shawna feel more alive than she had in a long time. But there was no doubt about it...she was just BEING. She wasn't even existing...she was alone, with no family, no friends, and no life ahead of her.

She had thought about suicide for quite some time. And she had been ready to do it, too, at least until she met John. But even though he made her feel more alive than anyone ever had, it wasn't enough. She wanted...something else...something that no one, not even he, could give to her.

No one could give her what she really wanted and needed, because they didn't exist. Not in any reality.

Or at least any that she knew of...

======

We met again two nights later at the club. I had told her that I had a surprise for her, and I could feel the almost frightened anticipation emanating from her. I took her to my car and grabbed her by the hair, pulling out a small knife. Her breathing quickened and her eyes widened, but she didn't flinch. I caressed her neck and face with the tip of the knife as she looked me straight in the eyes. Her breathing became more raspy as I drew the knife further down her neck and chest. In the hollow of her neck, I pressed hard enough with the knife to draw blood, leaving two parallel lines. She let out a small moan as I moved my mouth toward the blood. As I licked and then sucked on the small wound left by the knife, I moved my hand to her pussy. She was extremely wet. I touched her clit and then began roughly finger fucking her. She came almost immediately.

I licked her juices from my fingers, watching her face the entire time. She was flushed and breathing heavily, wanting more, but I didn't want to take her there in the car. I wanted to take my time and have her in every way possible tonight. I turned away and started the car.

======

Shawna was almost frightened by the look in John's eyes. There was a...finality to it. She didn't want for it to be over. She wanted him forever, but knew she couldn't have him in that way. It was not love...it was something else, and although she didn't understand what it was exactly, she knew she didn't want to hear him tell her goodbye. 

By the time they arrived at John's house, she knew it was time. After tonight, she would cease to exist. She would be the one who said the last farewell.

======

In my bed, she was wilder than ever. I couldn't wait to be inside of her, thrusting into her warm tight cunt. I raked my teeth across her breasts, then her neck, making her cry out in pain and pleasure. 

"OH God, fuck me John!" she cried. "Harder! I need to feel the pain! Make me bleed!"

I paused, gasping out, "Do you know what you're doing?"

I have never seen such a look in my entire life. She wanted it. She wanted to die. Her whole face revealed the truth at that moment. And I - I almost didn't know what to do.

Almost.

She looked at me as IF SHE KNEW. And then she slowly tilted her head to the side, baring her neck to me. I could see the vein throbbing.

"Yes."

I felt the power rising up inside of me. My teeth, which were nicely sharp before, were VERY sharp now. My cock swelled up inside of her as I thrust deep inside of her again and bit deeply into her neck. Her gasps and moans were music to my ears as I continued to thrust in and out of her while drinking deeply of her blood. 

This woman - I couldn't let her go. I had to keep her with me. 

I cut my wrist and made her drink of my blood, even as I continued to thrust in and out of her. I could feel her blood coursing through my veins, and my blood in her. 

"Mmmm oh God," she cried out, and we both came together with mindless ecstasy.

We clung to each other, breathing heavily. When I finally lifted my head, the look on her face was simultaneously confused and incredulous.

"Are you...really a..."

"Vampire?" I finished. "Yes, I am."

"Why didn't you just...finish with me...I was ready, I think..."

"No, my dear, you weren't," I answered. "You weren't ready to die...not really. You were just ready for...something else."

"But...how could you know that..what happens now...am I..?"

I put a finger to her lips. "Sh....we can talk about this later...but for now..."

Feeling the new rush of power in her bloodstream, she opened her eyes wide and gasped, "For now...I want more of that 'Something Else'!"

Something Else



He has me naked and star-fished.

The bindings are red velvet bell-cords. Their plush interleaving secures my ankles and wrists to the curlicued frame of bed head and base.

But though I may have been stripped of my clothes, I am draped in riches. 



Cesar Ritz called his creation "a small hotel in London". But Cesar would likely have described Versailles as a modest country retreat.

How perfect. This calm understatement of voice. This raging braggadocio of vision. I know many men where both are in similar balance. Though of course, completely the wrong way around.

My gaze tracks the endless unfolding of the plasterwork acanthus from ceiling frieze to doorway capital, then strays over the burnished bureau and lacquered tables to a chaise longue whose cushioning seems spun from finest gold.

But then, there's gold everywhere, on mouldings and chair backs and table legs and even in the glasses we've but recently finished, gold vodka, Grand Marnier, peach liqueur and champagne.

July at The Ritz, with the bedroom casement open wide to admit the soft sound of afternoon tea on the patio below, the distant laughter of lovers amidst the heavy-headed trees of a Green Park summer.

He wants to blindfold me soon.

But he wants to finish talking dirty first.



'So is it,' he asks, 'twat? You know, the short 'a'. Or: "twaart", the way you English say?'

'Nobody says twaat.'

'No?'

'And not twat, either.'

'It is a strange word.'

'Used by even stranger people.' I can't resist smiling though.

'Just. . . pussy then.' He pauses. Savours the word the way we've just savoured our cocktails. 'Puss-eee.'

'Ah-huh. Not "ee". Puss-i. Pussy.'

He smiles at me, encouraging complicity. 'What you say.'

'I might. Were I unfortunate enough to be an American.'

'Yes?'

'Americans can't tell a cat from a cunt. Or from a fanny, either.'

'Fanny?'

'They sit on it over there. We fuck it over here.'

He shakes his head in slow bewilderment. 'None of this they teach in language school.'



We met at 2pm at The Dorchester. Where he's staying.

At 3pm we checked into The Ritz. Where I prefer to be.

Before all that though, at 1.55pm London time, the transfer went through, $15,000 US into my account from one of his, Switzerland via Liechtenstein via Grand Cayman.

My first impression is, he's an American, though fortunately, not an ugly one. The dark suit is carefully, and expensively, tailored, the tie a pink pastel adrift on the white background of the shirt. His shoes aren't black patent but their lustre's nearly as deep. 

His eyes are blue, almost unnervingly pale. He's 55 and has lost most of his hair but nothing else has been yielded to time: face almost unlined, a physique that's compact and firm rather than flabby.

It's his voice that misleads, but then, it always does where educated Russians are concerned. As if they all grew up in Boston.

Pity about the giveaway, then: Old Bostonians don't generally roam the globe with a quartet of bodyguards whose names may have been changed but whose initials still read KGB.

Also: Old Bostonians tend not to travel from airport hubs to city centres in mini-cavalcade, there to occupy not rooms or suites but an entire floor.

Naturally, they wanted to be here in this room with him. And naturally, I said they were welcome. That's democracy. And $60,000. Validated transfer, if you don't mind.

Apparently, the employee incentive scheme doesn't run to that. So there's one out in the park and another in Piccadilly, perimeter security, walking around the arcade. The other pair are downstairs in The Palm Court. It's where all who've served Communism come to sip tea. They'd both like to be upstairs, outside our door, but this is The Ritz where everything is of note, and everyone is noticed.

I sometimes think, it'd be nice to have all the money that brings that kind of power. But that kind of paranoia? No thanks.



I watch him. He watches me. We'll change places later, but for the moment, I'm on the bed with hands aching to be free, while he's on the chair at comfortable liberty, one hand resting on the chair arm, the other slowly ministering to his balls and his cock. He looks good naked. Though I look even better.

'Language school?' I prompt. 'I thought you'd at least have a private tutor.'

'When I was in the Service.'

'Ah.' I nod. 'Before eighty-nine.'

'Correct.'

'You miss it? What you used to do?'

He laughs, a smooth, rolling bass. 'Why should I miss it?'

'Right. Nostalgia. It isn't bankable.'

I'm expecting his laughter to continue. Instead, his eyes hood and narrow. Eventually: 'You are a bright lady.'

'Though still a couple of billion short.' I watch his hand at work, all the slow mesmeric pumping. 'This hotel,' I tell him. 'You could buy it without even thinking.'

'This entire country, I could buy.'

'You definitely wouldn't be thinking then.'

He shrugs. Unfolds himself from the chair. Comes over to the bed. Says:

'Open your mouth wide. I'm going to push it down your throat.'

He bends over me. Lets me see its length. It's engorged now, all the way from that shiny purple bell to the curling hair at the shaft's base.

He's managed to milk himself, deliberately or inadvertently. Either way, there's a bauble of sperm, shimmering in its elasticity, but still clinging to the darker pink of his drawn back foreskin.

The bauble breaks on my tongue as his cock enters my mouth and is, as he promised, pushed down my throat.



'You like your mouth fucked,' he says. Not a question.

'Mmmm.' 

The tip of my tongue chases his moisture around my lips. I open my eyes again, see him back in the chair again. Slowly masturbating again. He could've orgasmed before though I'd guessed he would not: there are a lot of moments in $15,000, and he knows the price of each of them.

He studies me. 'Say "fuck my mouth".'

'Fuck my mouth.'

'Again, please.'

Please??? God above, the formality of the super-rich. 'Fuck my mouth.'

'I think maybe I bring in one of my men, yes? His cock, it would go all the way to your stomach.'

'My kind of guy.' 

He laughs. 'No. Your kind of money.'

'Everyone has to earn a living.'



Though some, of course, earn it easier than most. Like this one, here. Right place. Right time. The chaos of 1989. The lost archives of 1990 and with them, all those State titles of ownership. Also that same year: the collapse of the economy, assets stolen, jobs lost, lives wrecked, a very big country plundered, a lot of very little people defrauded.

And after all that, the emergence of the new elite, sprung from nowhere but accepted everywhere because though corruption stinks, the scent of wealth is always stronger, always more alluring.

There is no conscience now. Just gilt by association.

And here I am. Associating, too.



'So,' he says. 'Not twat.'

'That's right. Not twat.'

'And not. . . I shoot my balls.'

'Empty them.'

'Of course. I empty my balls.'

'Better.'

'I shoot my load.'

'Good.'

You say it, then. Shoot your load.'

'Shoot your load.'

His hand is moving faster now. I think the blindfold is due.

'But where do I shoot though?' Saying it as if to himself, easing out from the chair again, standing with legs spread to let the sunlight bathe his genitals. He picks up the blindfold, moves towards me. 'Where though?'

'Where?' I make a question of my eyebrow.

His fingers slide over my labia then slip inside. I almost spasm, I've been waiting that long. Yearning that long. 'Into you?' He's still musing. 'Or. . . onto you.'

'Condoms are there.' I nod towards a pie crust side table. 'If it's into.'

He sighs. 'Then I think. . . Onto.'

'Yes. Onto.'

His fingers withdraw, track over my clit and move slowly upwards. 'Onto here? Your belly? Or. . . ' At my left breast now, probing its soft underside then moving across to do the same with the right. 'Onto these?' He palms each of them in turn. Carefully and deliberately flattens the nipples. 'Or. . .'

'Or?'

His hand cradles my jaw. 'This could be into. Into your mouth.'

'Mmmm.'

And now his fingers are walking the side of my face, over my cheek, brushing my eye, settling on my forehead. 'Or here.'

'Be a waste, I'm wearing a blind fold.'

'I like blind folds.'

'I'm here to be fucked. Not executed.'

His laughter resounds again, a wonderfully joyous wracking of his entire body: when he comes, his convulsion will surely be no greater than this.

He turns aside, casts the blindfold onto the onyx table. It drapes itself over the condom pack. Then he sits down beside me, one hand at my breasts, the other between my legs. Says:

'You know what we said. Before.'

'Your turn. My turn.'

'And when it is your turn, you will. . .' Frowning, hunting for the word. 'Squirt.'

I loathe the word, but let it pass. 'Yes.'

'You will do yourself for me until you squirt. And you will squirt onto my face.'

'More like into,' I say. 'There's. . . Pressure. You know?'

'Pressure I like. So. I will wear the blindfold then.'

'It'll get soaked.'

'Then I shall take it off after and wring it out. In your mouth.' 

A shudder runs through him. I hope he's not milking again, the carpet's pure wool and the rose petal pattern doesn't need beading just yet.

He stands up abruptly. Claps his hands. Looks down at me, gaze raking every inch of my spread-eagled form.

'Okay! We are ready! I fuck your cunt. I fuck your mouth. Then all this in here' – he cradles his balls, pushes them up so they spread – 'all this, this load?'

'Your load. Yes?'

'You take my load onto your face. No: all over your face. Say it.'

'Shoot your load. All over my face.'

He nods, more animated than ever. 'Yes. Yes. Shoot your load.'

I wonder if this kind of stuff features in Berlitz. And, if you're unable to follow the words, whether the illustrations are good enough to explain the action.

But then, finally, he's thrusting into me, all the heat and all the hardness I've had to wait for, all his fullness for all my emptiness – 

'Say it, woman!'

'Fuck me! Fuck me!'

Pounding, pumping, pistoning, I'm already bucking against the restraining cords, I want to writhe and twist and break free yet somehow in that self same freedom remain in this selfsame place, spread wide, trapped tight, fucked hard, oh fucked and fucked so hard, so well.

And withdrawal, his body hauling itself up mine, when his cock goes in my mouth I really can taste how it's different from before, some sweet slurry dripping from his flesh, my own darkness borne briefly out into the light before being returned to me

Then straddle of limbs, knees bracketing my face, his balls and his cock directly above, silver threads quivering from my lips to his slit:

'Say it!'

'Come on my face!'

'Shoot your load!'

'Shoot!'

'Again!'

'Shoot!'

'Louder, say it!'

'SHOOT!'



I am released now, free to get up and roam this gilded cage. He'd prefer it if I didn't dry off, he wants to see the white loops in pendant fall, their remorseless coursing from my jawline to my breasts and then in narrow runnel down and past my belly. 

I don't mind the wetness – no, the truth: I enjoy the wetness – but I certainly mind the stinging in my left eye where the splashing has got in amongst the lashes. Sperm-soaked bitch I might be, but a bloodshot one, no way.

I go in the bathroom first to mop at my face, to sponge his load from my eye, and in a while he follows me in, stands sideways at the toilet, the better for me to see with what vision I still have how strongly his urine can go arching into the bowl.

For a moment it looks as if we're going to revise our schedule, he wants me in the bath tonight, to lie there on my back to be soaked in piss but I've already said I only drink champagne of an evening, he'll have to fill up on that first.

He's still pissing when I finish, and I tell him to stay there whilst I organise Room Service because I know how he is and the protocol to which I must adhere: he can be seen at a premiere, a party, or some intergovernmental convention, but he cannot be even so much as glimpsed by someone dancing attendance on a hotel room.

I don a house robe, unblemished white towelling with the letter R scripted over the left breast, then when the waiter arrives with the little cart I thank him politely but briefly and usher him out again before he can start fussing with the crockery, the cutlery and those shining silver-plated covers.

I lose the robe to get naked again as soon as the waiter has left, go across to the bathroom and tap lightly on the door, it's all OK, the coast is clear.

Thinking: or is that another phrase he's never learned?



He's on the bed, hands folded behind his head. I'm at the cart, pouring tea and popping the food covers. It's all so very. . . English.

'Egg and cress sandwiches,' I tell him. 'You like?'

'What else is there?'

'Smoked salmon.'

'I do not like fish.'

'I'll eat 'em then.'

I stack the silver tray with his tea, milk and sugar, as well as a plate of triangular sandwiches, tiny sailboats on a china sea. I set the tray down on the bedside table, go over to the same chair he occupied before. 

I watch him without speaking. He's good to look at. Nice enough to be with, to bother with. If you put out of your mind all those hints of a past that even a nervous Press can't quite exclude from the record, well. . . 

'You are thinking,' he says.

'Yes.'

'What?'

'Oh, I don't know. It's just so. . . Good.'

'You wish to rest?'

I hesitate, then shake my head. 'It's you,' I tell him.

He chuckles in quiet self confidence. And that's nice, too, though when you buy and sell the way he does – companies, countries, doesn't matter which -- when you buy and sell women the way he does. . . Well, yes. You can be confident.

I wonder about his wife. His university educated kids.

Finally, he asks: 'And what is it about me?'

'Just looking at you. Lying there.'

'You like?'

'Yes.'

He returns my gaze. 'If you were with me all the time, I would have you naked all the time.'

'I hear it's cold in Siberia.'

'But think of it. In the snow. You could be stretched out there. Naked. Have you ever been fucked in the snow?'

I laugh. Play along. He's using language again for his own needs. 'No. I've never been fucked in the snow.'

'How about,' he says slowly, 'how about you being stretched out there while I watch you being fucked by my people?'

'We talking about your bodyguards? Or the entire Russian nation?'

The laughter convulses again. Eventually he says: 'I could fuck you again but – '

'I hope you will.'

'But. But. . . ' He frowns. Shakes his head. 'To soon.'

'How long's it take, to get hard again?'

His gaze follows mine, down to his cock, a small and quiet curl of flesh in his pubic fuzz. 'Longer every year.' He seems sad, but then brightens. 'My load though. . . '

'What about it?'

He spreads his legs. Raises his hips so I can look at his balls. 

I nod. 'Your load's still good.'

He reaches down to manipulate his sac. 'Yes.' We stay like that for a while, neither of us speaking. But eventually I can't wait any longer:

'Hey.'

He opens his eyes, peers in frowning concentration as I push myself back in the chair, almost threaten to topple the damn thing over, managing to get first my left leg over the left chair arm and then my right leg over the right chair arm.

It's not a position I can sustain for long: I may be athletic, but I'm no contortionist. And my ass cheeks are spreading wider than I want, I can feel the way the flesh is puckering and parting. If he's to watch what I do between my legs I'd rather he concentrated on one hole, not both.

'My load's good too,' I tell him.

'You want to come?'

'Yes.'

'Over my face?'

'Every last drop.'

He grins. 'In my mouth?'

'Swallow it all.'

His cock is already stirring, and that's good. He says, wonderingly: 'A woman's load, is beautiful.'

'Can be.'

'Your load.' Both hands at work now, feeling himself out. 'I think I take it now.'

'We blindfolding you, or what?'

'At the end, yes. So when it hits me. . .' He pauses. Shivers. 'Like the sudden rain, yes?'

'More like a sudden hosing.'

'Hosing?'

'Doesn't matter.'

'And when you have finished, we take off the blindfold, and we – '

'I know what we're going to do with the blindfold.'

He smiles. 'You know, how the Americans say?'

'Say what?'

'You really are something else.'



Do myself. Do myself in front of him, making it fast, making it fucking furious because though the position I'm in may be great for display it's anything but as a means of being displayed.

The chair's rocking and jolting and if it's an antique then I really am sorry and if it's not then I really am doomed, going ass over elbow – or, given my present position, something even more anatomically exciting -- straight into the wall.

Working my clit like I'm trying to erase it, thrusting in my fingers like I'm trying to split me, there's wave after wave surging within and each of their echoes is swamping me without, my body's so buckled it's screaming for release, it's all I can do to keep my gaze locked on his, see the way he's spread eagled just as I was, all the velvet cords straining.

I'm trembling when I quit the chair, it's a real effort of will not to lose it right this second, I need to breathe deep on this sun-fleck'd air, on this cooling breeze from a separate world.

I move across to the bed, press one hand on his cock. Feel all its life and all its strength swelling fast under my palm.

'You have to tell me,' I say. 'Tell me when to come.'

'Yes.'

'You have to – wait a minute, where's the blindfold?'

His smile is wide and warm, his lips, his cock, so beckoning. 'You moved it,' he says. 'For the tray.'

I nod. Can't speak. All this action, all this artifice, all these artefacts. A whirl. Girl in a whirl. And I can't be, not now, now that we've reached this point.

The blindfold's on the floor, twin panes of black plush, some kind of white frilly edging, it's more a pantomime prop than a sex aid but hey, it's what he's brought.

I get it on him and ask if he's ready, if he's comfortable, and he says yes over and again, yes yes yes so I breathe deep to steady myself this final time and straddle his chest and lean back so I can line myself up and judge the distance and he's saying: 

'Your load, your load'

and I lean forward now and brush his lips with mine and say:

'oh fuck, I need something in my ass'

and he'd be writhing now if he could, just like I'd wanted to, he's struggling to thrash against the cords now, just like I tried to.

'Just one second,' I tell him. 'Just one second, my love.'



The cart still holds the covered salver of all those salmon sandwiches he wouldn't eat and in a way that's my only disappointment of the day, I thought with his background, his training, he'd know enough to realise that his taste in food was bound to be documented somehow and somewhere: likes, dislikes, strengths, weaknesses, the petty vulnerabilities that make all of us mortal, but no, he hasn't thought, and no, he hasn't realised, still over there on the bed trying to pitch and heave while I lift the silver plate lid and grasp the Airweight, it's what I ordered in and it's what they've delivered and will take away when they clean up, after I've gone.

And I'm back to the bed with the .38 in one hand and a cushion in the other, it's light and it's small enough to hold in one hand because I checked that almost the moment we walked in, I'm back at the bed to straddle him and he's saying:

'Now, you do it. You give me your load'

which happens to be -- or should be unless the armourer's fucked up -- 148-grain hollowbase wadcutters:




Something Else



'Your load! Now!'

So I balance above him as sweat drops from my breasts with the cushion just inches from his blindfolded face and the S&W's 2-inch barrel only a little above that and hear myself talking dirty for this very last time, urging him on towards the best it will ever be:

'Tell me then! Tell me!'

'Shoot!'

'Louder!'

'Shoot!'

'I can't hear you!'





'SHOOT!!!'







Some contracts you get, there's really no pleasure. Others, they're better.

He's taken my load and he's such a good boy, I didn't need all five rounds, there's two that are chambered plus the three casings still in the revolver. 

I place it down on a linen napkin, let it cool. I'm in the bathroom no more than five minutes, an urgent scrub down of body and face and then back out to my suitcase and the clothes and the wig and the Gucci sunglasses that as style are tasteless crap but as cover better than any mask Zorro ever donned.

I put the .38 back on the silver salver, close the lid. My cell's in my other hand as I'm doing that and when I've finished speaking, that's it. All over. They have a clean-up team to remove that which Room Service never brought and enough in the way of mop-up to clear any DNA I might have spilled.

I look at him lying there. My lover, the oligarch. 

My lover, the stupid Siberian snow-fucker.

I hope he learned something from me today – though, let's be fair, he wasn't that unversed in his language of choice. Yes, he got it wrong where my language of birth is concerned, misread my English accent just as I misread his Yank one. And also got it wrong, wherever he thought my place of birth might be.

But otherwise – and I'm thinking this as I close the door, as I leave him with a whispered 'pah-kah', it's the only farewell you can bid a lover – otherwise though, he did get it right.

Because: yes.

It's true.

I really am something else.



Something Else



I sat on the fallen log for a moment catching my breath, the sun beating down on my shoulders. I wiped a small bead of sweat from my forehead. Running had always been a good way for me to release frustration and stress, especially after stupid quarrels with Mike. It seems that I've been going out running a lot more the last couple months.

Things have never exactly been perfect between us, but we were more distant lately. This didn't bother me, but it clearly irritated him that I wanted more space. Then again, what could i possibly do these days that wouldn't make him mad? I guess i can't blame the guy; I was a couple months away from being 100% financially self-sufficient, and from being ready to file the divorce papers. He knew this, and he wasn't helping his cause out any by being a prick. 

My mind was made up, has been for a while. I'd thought it through long and hard, and ultimately decided that leaving him was something I needed to do. Hell, what was there to lose? Yes, we do have a daughter, but she'll be okay, and she doesn't need to grow up around us arguing. He and I didn't see eye-to-eye any more.

We had little to no communication, very little patience left for each other, and to be honest I wasn't in love with him anymore. Not to mention our once active sex life had gradually dwindled down to a nauseating feeling down in my stomach. We often used to fuck 2-3 times every day. Even then he would occasionally complain that I was "too sexually demanding." Ha, I didn't know such a thing existed! Now I can't even think about sleeping with him. I moved on; found other ways to satisfy my "demanding" needs.

And I thoroughly enjoyed it, too. See, when you're an 18-year-old MILF, and a tomboy, and you're known to be a freak in the bedroom, it's not too excruciatingly hard to find a willing participant. Mike was too oblivious to ever know I was sleeping with someone else. All he knew was that I sure as hell wasn't sleeping with him.

He always got mad when I shot him down and he blamed it on the fact that I had gotten my first dildo a year or so before, and that I would rather use it than have sex. Boy, could he have been any more wrong? My sentiment was actually quite the opposite, I'd much rather have the real deal. But there's no reason for me to try and change his mind, now is there? 

My tangent of thought is cut off by the rumble of an airplane passing overhead. I stand up and stretch briefly, then continue running the course back toward my house. As I progress down the trail, my mind wanders off back to sex. I noticed that I tend to do that A LOT. 

I thought about the circumstances of the affair. It was forbidden, but that made it all the more exciting. It was risky, but we both need the escape from our spouses. I didn't really care at this point. We were both unhappy in our marriages; I was just a little more fortunate because I was getting a divorce. He wanted out, but wasn't in the position to do it yet. And there was a strong mutual attraction among our similarities. Call it "Friends with benefits," or what have you, but it was great sex with no strings attached. And it was an awesome adrenaline rush. 

It's like the best of all the forbidden fantasies you'd expect someone to have, or to read about. The husband sleeping with the babysitter; the "loving" wife that's blowing her husband's boss; the friend that's banging your wife behind your back. Yes, it's all-around immoral, but it's so sexy and way too much fun to quit now. On top of that, he gets me turned on like never before and it's absolutely amazing. 

I get back to my house and start the shower. While I wait I check my phone, which was left on the charger while I went for a run. One missed call and two text messages. The missed call is from some 800 number, not important. I look at the texts, both from the very guy I was just thinking about. The first one reads "good morning." The second one, sent about ten minutes after the first, "What you up to? Have lots of free time today..." If I wasn't smiling after the first message, i sure was after the second. I unplug it and reply as I walk back to the bathroom. 

"Yeah, morning.:) Not much; just got home. Taking a shower......You?" I wait a couple minutes with no response, so I strip off my shirt and bra, then my shorts and underwear and jump in. I expect to hear the text message alert during the course of my shower, but I don't. I shut off the water, reach out to grab a towel and wrap it around me. I step out and check the screen to see no change, still no text. I dry my hair really quick and head to my bedroom to get clothes and dress. 

I thought I had left my stereo on when I went running, but I must've been mistaken because there was no music playing. I went to lock the front door, but I guess I already locked it when I came home. I opened my bedroom door and jumped as a hand touched my shoulder, another closes over my mouth to muffle my startled scream. My towel comes unwrapped and falls to the floor, exposing me entirely. The fear vanishes when I hear that deep, familiar voice. "Shhhh, Its okay. Figured I'd surprise you this time. Don't say anything. Just play along. We're gonna try something." 

He presses his body tightly against my back, kisses the side of my neck, and spins me around to look at the bed. I see the pieces of rope that have been tied at the corners of the bed. He must have seen the smile flash across my face because he asks "You like that, don't you?"

Before I can answer he picks me up and tosses me on the bed, slips the loops of rope around my wrists, then on my ankles. "I'm gonna do whatever I want to you, and you're not gonna stop me," he declares with a grin.

All I could think is, "why the hell would i want to stop you? This is like one of my biggest fantasies!!" Mmmm, i couldn't wait to see what else he had in mind.... He moved his hands from securing my ankle and slid them up my thigh, avoiding my crotch intentionally just to tease me. I close my eyes, feeling his fingertips trace their way up my body. Suddenly he bites my nipple and sucks it into his mouth, causing my back to arc; little goose bumps cover the surface of my skin. 

His tongue circles my nipple slowly. A low moan comes from my mouth and he releases to move to the other. He does the same, and looks up to see my reaction to his taunting. I can see it in his eyes, he likes being in control. He definitely enjoys teasing me, making me wait until the anticipation is too strong for me to bear any longer. He releases from that nipple, and kisses my chest a couple times. He moves up to my lips, but pulls away just as I lean in to press mine to his. "Ah ahh, not so fast."

I sigh and drop my head back onto the bed in disappointment. With a devilish smile he whispers, "Do you want it that badly? Be patient, it's coming. And more...."

With that his head moves down to my nipple, but this time all he does is flick his tongue across each one and pull away again. He heads down, kissing my stomach, stopping at the top of my thighs and diverting to either side, alternating pecks from leg to leg, avoiding that sensitive region in between. My spine tingles from bottom to top and sends an electrifying chill through my body. Finally I can't take it anymore, "please just do it already!" I plead. 

He stops cold and pulls away again. "I told you to be patient; you can't make me go any faster. You're tied to the bed, remember?" 

There's just something about the way he says this that turns me on even more. He lowers his head to lick my clit, but stops a few centimeters short and moves away quickly. He slides his body up mine and plants a firm kiss on my lips, slips his tongue into my mouth just a little bit. After too few seconds, he pulls his lips apart from mine. When I open my eyes they are so very close to my clit. There is a quiver in my breath as I anticipate the contact. He plants one small, gentle lick on my hood and stops. "Are you ready?" he asks. 

"Yes. Please do it." I beg. He places one little kiss on my hood again, then firmly runs his tongue all the way down my slit, and back up. I shiver with excitement as he continues to lick my anxious cunt. Moments later I'm on the verge of coming and he can sense it. He presses harder with his tongue, goes a little faster. My hips rock with his motions as I get even closer. He stops, to my dismay. 

He looks up at me; my face is flushed from the blood rapidly surging through my veins. "Want me to make you come? Do you want me to put my dick inside you?" 

"Yes." Is all I manage to utter between each heavy breath. My heart races faster and faster.

"Are you sure?" he asks, with a sarcastic smile.

"Just fuck me already! I can't wait any more!"

"Oh yeah? Well what if I want to make you wait a little more? There's nothing you can do." He boasts.

He slides off the bed and takes all his clothes off, dropping them on the floor at the end. While I wait in anticipation, I take the time to admire the build of his body, his muscular tone. He climbs back onto the bed, and between my legs. He takes more time to eat my pussy and gets me on the edge of climax again, then scoots up and positions the head of his dick at the wet entrance. With one hard, full thrust he shoves his cock all the way in, feeling me stretch around him to accommodate his tool. I gasp as he pushes it in me, my eyes roll back in my head for a moment.

He starts out slow, letting me feel every inch of him as he slides in and out, the veins of his rock hard dick caressing the inside of me as he moves back and forth. He pumps a little faster, then harder. My cunt gets even wetter as my breathing gets shallower. He thrusts again with an extra burst at the end, driving his cock even farther into my hole. 

"Oh god, I'm gonna come!" I scream. He thrusts again, seeming to go deeper each time. My hands clinch the ropes restraining them to the bed; my body releases a tidal wave of endorphins.

"Don't hold back. Come for me baby. That's it." Hearing him talk dirty to me intensifies my orgasm and another wave of adrenaline rushes through my body as I start to come a second time. I can't hold back the moans sounding from my mouth. 

"Oh god, Mmmm, fuck me. Uhhhh that feels sooo good. Oh, Oooh, oooohhhhhhh!!!" The muscles in my pussy contract around his member while he thrusts back and forth. "Uh, ahh, aaah, aaaaahhhh, aaaaaahhhhh. Fuuuck!" Then I feel his muscles tense up and I feel a shot of his hot cum fill me, then another, and another as his body trembles with pleasure. I relax onto the bed and he rolls over to the side of me as I lay there trying to catch my breath. He sits up at the edge of the bed then stand to put his clothes back on; All the while leaving me tied up still, like some sort of spectacle to be seen. He puts everything back on and lays back on the bed to start releasing my limbs from their bonds. 

"So...? Was that kind of what you wanted?" He inquires.

"Oh, you have no idea. That was something else, that's for sure!"



Something Else a Little Different



Sitting in the chair by the front window, the rain pattering down on the pane of glass. I watch as the postman makes his way through the puddles and drops mail into my box. My breath catching, I am anxious to read today's letter. I wrench open the front door and reach into the mailbox, just as I hear a yelp. I look up, hand still on the mailbox, and see the postman going down into the puddle.

Torn between retrieving my mail and going to help him, I freeze, mouth agape. He rises from the puddle, a stream of blood pouring from his nose. The sight startles me into action, and grabbing my mail I run into the house for a towel, dropping my mail on the table. Back out, I hand the towel to the postman and guide him into my house. He stands in my foyer, dripping, bleeding and trying to apologize. 

Shaking my head in disbelief, I run back to the bathroom and return with a big fluffy towel. "Here, strip those wet clothes off and I'll toss them in the dryer, wrap in this and grab a hot shower. I'll meet you in the kitchen with a hot cup of coffee." 

Nodding his head while holding the towel to his face, I ease the mailbag off his shoulder and drop it onto the boot tray to drip. Giving him instructions to the bathroom, I retreat to the kitchen to give him some privacy. When I hear the bathroom door close I grab his wet clothing, and take it to the laundry. 

Humming a tune to myself, I empty his pockets, and throw his clothing into the washer. I take his belongings upstairs and lay them on the table. Sitting down at the table I rip into the letter, and anxiously read the contents. Smiling, I reread the letter, digesting its contents, and wriggling in my seat. The letter tells me to offer to suck the cock of the first man I see, immediately after reading. 

Thinking of the postman, I realize that he is quite handsome and already naked in my bathroom. Chewing on my bottom lip, debating whether or not that this is a good idea, the doorbell rings. 

Dropping the letter onto the table, I walk to the door and see a man, the first man who I see after reading the letter. He is handsome, smiling, wearing a UPS uniform and holding a package. Shaking my head, I invite him inside to get out of the rain. As I take the package and lay it on the table, he hands me the machine to sign for the delivery. 

As I hand it back, I take a deep breath and before I can change my mind, "May I suck your cock please?" A shocked look registers on his face, but his lips curve into a smile. "Here, right now?" he queries. 

Not trusting my voice, I nod...staring directly into his intense eyes. He drops the contents of his hands onto the floor, he unbuttons his pants, I shiver as I hear his zipper being lowered. Dropping to my knees, I grab his thighs and yank his pants down, looking directly into a 7 inch cock that is flaccid. I look up at him and he smiles, "I think you'll be quite pleased when I get an erection." he chuckles as he reaches for my head and pulls me towards his cock.

Licking my lips, I allow him to guide me to his soft cock. Taking it fully in my mouth, it reaches the back of my throat already, barely able to check my gag reflex, eyes bulging as it starts to lengthen. 

I hear the bathroom door open and a startled gasp from behind me. The UPS man pulls out of my mouth in a hurry as the two near naked men stare at each other. I gulp in a big breath of air...as I try to hastily explain the towel clad man in my hallway. And red in the face, the letter on my table, that it must be the next man I see. 

A knowing look passes between the two men and UPS's hand reaches to draw my lips back to his cock. I hear the towel drop behind me, hands on my hips, guiding me to a standing position, bent to the cock in front of me. The postman's hands pull down my pants and run over my bare ass...he pushes gently at my thighs, teasing them apart and runs a finger along my slit. 

"Perfect! What a wet clam you have there, it seems to be pulsing as it waits for a cock." His voice carries to my ears, my throat once again filled with the gigantic cock of the delivery man. 

UPS starts a slow pumping in and out of my mouth while I grip his hips, steadying myself. I feel the postman's cock nudging my wet lips apart and suddenly he thrusts forward, filling me, pushing me onto the cock in my mouth. Impaled at both ends, each trying to out thrust the other, each cock pushing me further onto the others. 

Moaning as the dual attention drives me into a frenzy, I suck hard at the glans of the cock in my mouth, tongue swirling. My cunt convulsing on and squeezing the cock that invades me there. Panting each time he pulls back, gagging with every forward thrust, the huge cock bruising my lips, scraping my throat raw. 

The postman delivering a steady pounding to my pulsing pussy. He reaches and grabs my clit, pulling it away from my body, pinching the sensitive nub, causing me to shudder. A full body quivering ensues as both men jam their cocks deep into me....both cumming, 2 squirting cocks filling me full. 

The postman's other hand spreading my ass cheeks and ramming his thumb to the hilt in my ass. My screams muffled and lost, just a wet gurgling sound as my orgasm breaks, washing over me...cum splashing out of my mouth, dribbling and drooling over my lips. My ass and cunt spasming, muscles contracting as I continue to tremble with this exquisite climax.

UPS pulls me up and seals his lips to mine, sucking cum from my mouth, sharing his spunk. The postman's cock pulling free of my quivering cunt, he spins me, thumb still buried in my ass and does the same. Pulling UPS's cum from my mouth...and spitting it back to mine. Just the thought of what an intimate moment this is...causes my body to jerk and buck as it rides another wave, leaving me clinging, my arms tight around the postman's neck.

I can feel UPS touching me, caressing me, his hands cool on my fevered flesh. He strokes my back and pushes me forward, until I find myself at eye level with the other cock. Barely managing to draw in a breath, the postman guides his cock to my lips and runs its wet tip along my bottom lip, teasing them apart. 

Unable to resist, his cock smelling of our spent passion, I open my mouth and allow his cock to slide in, starting to grow as it slides along my tongue. 

UPS is caressing my ass, his hands kneading the flesh. His fingers parting my cheeks and I feel his cold saliva drop onto my crack. Knowing the size of his cock, my heart beats faster and I try to push the postman from my mouth. He grabs my head and holds me fully impaled. 

UPS's cock nudges at my puckered rosebud, trembling I shake my head from side to side, causing the postman to gasp in appreciation. UPS's hand smacks my ass, the sound like a crack of thunder, my cheek heating instantly, then he slaps the other, a volley of smacks til I can barely breathe. 

Screaming onto the cock in my mouth, UPS pushes his cock against my protesting rim. My muscles spasming, as he keeps a steady pressure on my ass, his hand delivers another round of smacks. Gagging as the postman's cock continues to grow, UPS finds my clit and tugs hard at it, while pushing hard at my tight ring...his cock breaks through, my ass giving way and letting him in. 

An almost instantaneous orgasm rips through my body, my mouth sucking hard at the cock...my ass gripping and sucking at the other cock....screaming, vibrating, body quivering as they start a rhythm, both of them fucking me. The air filled with the delicious scent of sex, the sounds of rising passions....my body turns the sensations of the battering cocks into pure pleasure. 

My ass feeling speared, stretched to the point of tearing wide open, my mouth so used, bruised lips gliding along the pounding cock. These men surely know how to deliver, feeling the tightness in my belly, the fingers that tear at my clit...I tremble, body bucking between these two men as they once again drive my body into a frenzy.

Howling, screaming, gasping, my pussy pouring its nectar, I cum...long and loud and hard....over and over ...until I can no longer see or hear, only take pleasure and morph it into a climactic bliss. 

Hanging limply between them, they continue to ram their cocks home. Both men uttering guttural moans, as once again....almost as one they erupt inside me, filling me, it overflows from all of my well fucked holes. 

The postman grabs me upright and kisses me full on the lips, sucking his seed from my mouth and pulling away lets it splatter over my breasts. UPS drops to his knees and spreads my cheeks, forcibly sucking cum from my ass, then snaking his tongue forward to tease my clit....before poking his tongue into my gaping ass once more. Howling with delight, the postman once again covers my lips with his. 

UPS rises and encircles my body with his arms from behind. Sandwiched like this, two strong muscular men, my body trembles as aftershocks rocket along my nerve endings. 

They let go of me, keeping a steadying hand on me...and exchange a few whispered words. They guide me back to the bathroom where UPS strips off the rest of his uniform, and they bodily lift me into the shower. 

Joining me under the warm spray we jockey for position and soap each other til I am tingling all over. We let the hot spray rinse the suds away and step out. Embarrassed suddenly, by my wanton display, I grab a towel and quickly wrap my nakedness. They both laugh and tell me that it is a little late for modesty. 

"Where's that hot coffee you promised?" says the postman. Shaking my head , I wander to the kitchen, two towel clad men right behind me. I put the kettle on to boil and soon have steaming mugs in front of these two amazing guys. 

"Let me toss your clothes into the dryer, I'll be right back." I hasten to the laundry room, move his clothes to the dryer and slip into a tank top and pair of shorts before returning to the kitchen.

As I approach I can hear them talking, deep voices resonating as they tell each other how lucky they were to have happened to show up at my house at the right time. 

I enter the kitchen and take a seat between them. Leaning to kiss one, and then the other I thank them both. By the time the dryer has stopped, we have exchanged names and addresses, phone numbers and emails...promising to do this again real soon. As they both dress and prepare to leave, I share one last kiss with them, and walk them to the door. Smiling as I watch them walk away...



Something Else I've Never Done



Maybe it was too much wine or the spicy food Rachel's mother made for dinner, but I was having the weirdest dreams.

In the dream I was fucking Rachel from behind in some hotel room that looked like her mother's bedroom. But sometimes when I looked at her she was her mother also. It was all very surreal until I turned her around and she was Rachel again and she was smiling that intoxicated smile she gets sometimes and then pushed me away like she does, saying, "Bad!" Then Rachel shifted in bed, and I woke up unable to believe that the dream wasn't real. 

After a minute of trying to figure out what was real, I was wide awake. It was so real, I felt guilty. I had never cheated on my girlfriend before. 

I got up and went out of the room and through the living room of the rented condo where we were staying on vacation with her mother, Cathy, and her mother's boyfriend, Robby.

Through the sliding glass door, I saw Cathy clearly in the moonlight, out on the balcony over-looking the lagoon. She was smoking a cigarette.

According Rachel she had quit five years ago, but had started up again a few months back when she started dating Robby, who was 27 was only a couple years older than Rachel and I who were both 22. Rachel swore her mother was going through a mid-life crisis, and I had noticed that now that she was dating Robby, she treated Rachel a lot more like a friend than a daughter. It could get pretty uncomfortable too, like the night before, down at the pool, when she and Robby were making out pretty heavily in the hot tub. 

He even held the string on her bikini top when she was getting out, causing her breasts to fall out in front of us. Cathy laughed it off, though, and wasn't even very quick to put her top back on until Rachel gave her a dirty look. I guess that sort of explained the second dream. 

She jumped when I walked out on the balcony. 

"Oh, Jake. You scared me." 

"Sorry," I said.

She was only wearing a short robe which was untied and panties without a bra. Her breasts sagged, and she had some extra weight, but other than that, you could not have told the difference between her body and Rachel's. In the face, she was simply Rachel with short hair and crow's feet beginning to set in under her eyes. They had the same cheekbones and eyes. She looked down at the cigarette. 

"Don't tell."

"I won't," I said. "If you bribe me with one."

She handed me the box and I took one out and put it in my mouth. She reached in and lit it for me and as she did I saw her left breast exposed. 

I know she caught me looking, but she said nothing and didn't ,move to close her robe. 

Thinking back to earlier and the dream, I felt an erection coming on so I sat down on one of the deck chairs.

We smoked in silence for a minute, looking out at the lagoon, and then she closed her robe and sat down on the other chair.

"I'm sorry if we were a little lewd earlier," she said.

"Huh? Oh, no, its fine."

"I think we had a little too much wine."

"We all did," I said. "It bothered 

Rachel more than me I think."

"I know, she chewed me out after we got back." 

"Well, she had had too much too."

"Yes, but I was a little disappointed. I know we were inappropriate, but I always taught her that the human body was a beautiful thing."

"It is," I agreed.

"I'll take that as a compliment," she said looking me in the eyes and smiling.

I was glad it was too dark for her to see me blushing.

"I'm sorry, I was just giving you a hard time."

"It's okay."

"I'm going to go back in, now," she said putting her cigarette out.

"Me too," I said standing up.

I put my cigarette out also and followed her in. I shut the door behind us and as I came through the living room I looked up and saw her standing in the doorway of the hall bathroom. I had noticed the light flip on in my peripheral vision and had expected her to have gone in. I stopped.

"Good night," she whispered.

"Good night."

And then that smile and she was gone into the bathroom.

I hesitated for half a second and then my legs were on autopilot. I walked over and into the bathroom and when I saw her sitting down I thought I had made a mistake. Then, I saw that the lid was down, and I saw in her face that intoxicated look and she said, "Bad boy."

I walked over to her. I pulled my shorts down and she took my dick, already partially erect, in her mouth. I had a full hard-on in no time and I stood letting her suck my dick. 

After a few minutes, she stood up and went over and shut the door.

"I want to show you something," she said, taking off her robe. "Come here."

I kicked off my shorts and walked over to her. I took her breasts and fingered her nipple with my right hand. Then I kissed her, forcing my tongue in her mouth.

She pushed me away with that intoxicated smile.

"Very bad."

Then she turned away from me and bent over the sink. She pulled her panties down. 

"Here," she said, licking her fingers. Her neck was craned around so I could see her face.

I came up behind her, rubbing my erect penis across her ass. She put her fingers to her crotch and then licked them again, wetting herself. Then she took my dick in her hand and raised her ass. 

I bent my knees to let her draw me inside her. She was so tight it took a minute to work my way in. When I was finally in I felt her moisten. 

"See?" she said.

"It's so tight." I bent over, kissing her neck and shoulders.

She laughed, breathless. Then I began to push in and out of her.

"It's always that way for about an hour after I've been asleep."

Then it was quiet except for the sounds of breath and skin smacking. After taking her from behind for a few minutes I turned her around and sat her on the sink, and entered her from the front. I pulled her to me and saw my face reflected in the mirror behind us. I fucked her harder.

I moved away from her, keeping the pace so I could look her in the face and see both her and Rachel. She smiled and whispered, "I'm close."

"I know," I said. "Rachel makes that face too."

She pulled me to her again and I felt myself going deeper inside her. After four or five more thrusts, the flood came. I kept ramming myself up into her until I felt it give in my nuts and I pulled out and shot all over her stomach and breasts.

Breathing heavy, she leaned back against the mirror. Still hard, I put my dick back inside her and she shivered, but I almost immediately began to soften.

Then she put a finger in my cum and put it to her tongue.

"Good?" I asked, simultaneously turned on and a little perturbed. 

She put her finger in another strand and then put it to my lips. I tasted it, but there wasn't much of a taste to it, but it made me hard inside her again. I guess because it was something else I had never done before.