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Car Show Slut Ch. 02

By: davidwriter



Monday morning, another day at the office. Two days ago I was a car show model. Now I was back in the real world: my position as a marketing executive. Already the events of Saturday seemed distant, almost surreal. I had spent a lazy Sunday going through the newspapers, cleaning the flat, getting my house in order, so to speak. The things that had happened on Saturday, the things I had done, shocked me somewhat, shocked me a lot, but it was behind me now. How horny all that attention had made me feel made me realise just how much I had been missing sex. You need a boyfriend, girl, as I thought about the impression that cute guy from the electronics company at the show had had on me. Well, maybe, but I didn't really want the complications of a man in my life right now, to be honest. And I had to admit that my vibrator did serve its purpose very nicely when I got home on Saturday night...

I was in meetings most of Monday morning and didn't bump into Kelly at all until lunchtime. I joined her in the cafeteria. 

"Hi Kelly," I said, placing my sushi tray on the table. 

"Hi Anne," she said. 

"Any news on the sponsor front?" 

"It's looking real good," she said. "Rick should know in a day or two, but he thinks it's pretty much a certainty. Thanks again for everything you did; I really owe you." 

Everything I did. I wondered exactly what she meant by that. Did she know that I had jerked Hank off in the back seat of the car? Oh God, I hoped not! 

"Anne," she said, her head bowed, eyes looking up at me intently. "I hope I didn't freak you out too much on Saturday. You know, when we were in the car." 

"No, no, not at all," I said, feeling slightly embarrassed. "But I have to admit, first time I've done anything like that." 

I paused for a minute. 

"Have you ever been with a woman before, Kelly?" 

"No," she said. "But I've always wanted to." We giggled together at her confession. 

"But in the car, it wasn't planned. It kind of just happened. And it was really nice." 

"Yes, it was," I said. "Did Rick say anything? I hope he was cool with it. You know, us together like that." 

"Oh yeah," she laughed. "He totally loved it." 

"I imagine after that he wants us to have a threesome now," I said. 

"He's already asked me about that. I told him you're too good for him!"

We both laughed. I was glad it hadn't changed things between us. Well, of course things had to have changed a bit: we had been sexual with one another, even if it had only been petting – heavy petting, for sure - but our friendship didn't seem to have been affected. But things were a little bit different. Looking at her across the table I was seeing Kelly in a different light from what I might have previously. I had never noticed her beautiful blue eyes before. And now I found myself observing the shape over her boobs under her light cotton blouse, the small amount of cleavage she was showing under her clothing. She had such lovely breasts, bigger than mine, so firm and round... 

I looked up. Kelly was staring straight at me. She'd caught me checking out her boobs. She smiled with a sly look on her face, one I'd never noticed before. She knew, and she approved. I smiled back. 

Monday was a slow day. I left work early for an extended gym workout. After I'd done half an hour on the exercise bike, I hooked up with my personal trainer, Steve, and we went through my normal weights program. Steve is younger than me, quite a nice guy really, early 20s, obviously extremely fit, and hoping to make the next Olympic rowing team. Nicely built, too; not too muscle-bound like so many other gym instructors, but toned in all the right places. Not that I fancied him or anything; but he certainly wasn't hard on the eye. 

This night, though, as he guided me through the routine, I found my gaze drawn to his skin-tight lycra shorts. He always wears them, the kind of thing worn at gyms only either by gays or elite athletes. He certainly wasn't in the former category, so I had overheard in the women's locker room. 

Standing above me, legs astride me as I did my floor lifts, I could not stop myself from staring at his cock. You could clearly make out the shape under the tight lycra; even the outline of the head was unmistakable. Pushing hard against the weights, sweat pouring off my own lycra-clad body, I couldn't help but wonder how big that thing got when he was aroused. How sexy it would look all hard, pushing against the stretchy material. What it would feel like. What it would taste like... 

He must have seen me looking. He smiled down at me at one point, with a gentle 'you seem to be having a nice time' kind of look on his face. I smiled back, surprised at myself that I wasn't embarrassed. No that I was worried about him making a pass at me; this guy must be beating all those hot young gym junkies away with a stick, I thought to myself. And with that rippling body of his he'd fuck them good and hard, too. Oh Annie, I thought, you're in a funny mood tonight! 

Later that night after I had showered and readied myself for bed, I laid out my work clothes for the morning. Rummaging through my underwear drawer, I came across the pair of Victoria Secrets g-string sets my old boyfriend David had bought me. He was always trying to get me to wear sexy lingerie, but I'd always found thongs uncomfortable. I ended up only wearing them – there was one black set, one white – in the privacy of my own home, for him, of course, and they did lead to some spectacular love-making sessions. 

I pulled out the white set, holding up the g-string. The thing was so tiny, so raunchy. I hadn't worn these in ages. I slipped off my robe and stepped into the thong. I put on the matching bra. I looked at myself in the mirror, turning to the side so I could see my bare ass cheeks. Hmm, not bad, I thought. But there was something missing from this 'look'. I went over to the shoe cupboard and pulled out a pair of red pumps. Slipping them on, I went back to the mirror. Now you look like a slut, I laughed, feeling deliciously naughty that here I was in high heels and sluttish underwear checking myself out in the mirror. This was a hot look. I imagined what Steve might think if he saw me dressed like this. I cupped the underside of my boobs, feeling the silky lace material against my skin. It felt luxurious, so self indulgent. I watched my reflection as my hands rubbed gently across my nipples. I pulled the bra strap off my left shoulder, slowly easing down the cup until my nipple poked into view in the mirror. I turned to my side and looked back into the glass. I could see my nipple was hard. I undid the clasp, letting the bra fall to the floor. I brought my hands up to my breasts, squeezing them tightly, watching in the mirror how the shape changed against the pressure. Funny, but the g-string didn't feel all that uncomfortable; if anything, I liked the feeling of the material rubbing between my ass cheeks. I felt so... so improper. And so deliciously naughty - what if anyone saw me like this? 

I glanced at the clock. It was getting late. Time for bed. I slipped off the shoes and slid the g-string off. I made to put the thong and bra set back in the drawer but then a devilish notion hit me: why not wear them to work tomorrow? Why not? I laid them out with my work clothes in readiness for the next day. 

The next day after breakfast I dressed for work, pulling my conservative cream-colored pants suit on over the top of my sexy underwear. I turned to the side and looked at my reflection in the mirror. Hmm, not bad – no visible panty line! 

I had a mid-morning meeting out at a client's office. The two reps from the company – one I knew from previous dealings, but the other was a new guy - were waiting for me at reception and led me through the building to their office. It was a productive meeting; there was no deal on the line but rather it was a feedback session on their last campaign and how things might be streamlined and improved. They were impressed with the ideas I presented. When it was over they showed me back down to the reception area, one in front leading the way, the other, the new guy, following behind me. With the guy walking behind me I suddenly became conscious of the g-string nestled in my ass. This suit was conservative, but fairly tight fitting all the same. Was he checking out my ass, wondering what I had on under the cream pants?

Back in the office I began preparing a report on the meeting. Rummaging through my bag for the new rep's business card, some other cards and receipts fell out onto the desk. One looked unfamiliar: Jem Russell, managing director, JR Electronic Systemz. 

Jem Russell, I pondered. Then I remembered – the hot guy from the car show with the electronics stand. The guy that wanted me to model for him! I felt a hot flush through my body as I remembered the impression he made on me. His body up close, arms wrapped around me as his buddy took our photo, his hot breath in my ear, his deep voice... 

And now I've got his phone number. God, I thought, I'd almost consider modeling for him if it meant a chance to go out with him! Was he married, I wondered? Maybe I could just ring him up for a chat, maybe ask him out for a drink. But I don't do that – I've never, ever asked I guy out in my life. It's they that ask you out. Maybe I could invent some business reason for the call and try to lead things from there? I sat there and pondered, idly spinning his card around in my fingers. But it's just some guy, I reasoned – you don't even know anything about him. All the same I'd love to get to know this guy... But how to do it? 

I could always ring him up and say yes to his modeling request. 

The thought sent a chill through my spine. Maybe I could be his show model? But be a car show model again? I couldn't. But could I? Just one more time? My body tensed at the very idea of it. Repulsed and shamed that I could even think half way seriously of doing such a thing again, but inwardly thrilled at the possibility that I MIGHT do it again. And horrified that the idea of being a car show model again didn't simply repulse me outright. Because a part of me liked it. A part of me wanted very much to do it again. 

I began to think about how I felt on Saturday. I had to admit, I enjoyed it. I really enjoyed it. Oh Anne, why not just face the fact, admit it: being a car show model was an unexpected turn on. You liked looking sexy, and you liked it that guys were looking at your body with lust in their eyes, like you were nothing more than a sex object, and you liked it that they looked you up and down as if all they wanted to do was fuck you. And you were wet for most of the day, weren't you? 

It was all true. I loved the attention, I loved doing a job that didn't require my brain, and I loved being appreciated visually on such a visceral level. I loved being a Car Show Slut for the day. 

But I couldn't do it. Not again. In my mind I reminded myself about my job – Anne, you're a respected senior marketing executive. People of that stature simply do not become car show girls out of work time! But what did it matter to the firm what I did after hours? I worked hard, I got results; as long as I didn't break the law in or out of work hours, what business was it of the company's what I did in my spare time? And it wasn't as though any such restrictions were written into my labor contract.

But it did matter. I was senior, I was respected, I was a leader. With that came a certain unspoken responsibility for one's conduct. It mightn't have been written in stone, but it would be taken for granted that such behavior was highly improper, simply not acceptable. It wasn't as though there was a set moral code or even a highly-charged political atmosphere within this company – I had not had to climb over anyone to get where I was. But it was something that could – and might – be used against me. I had been a Car Show Slut one time. But never again. 

Still, this guy... I'd only met him for a few minutes but he'd pushed all my buttons. I wasn't looking for a boyfriend, but... Jem. Jem Russell. Unusual name. I could really imagine being this guy's girl. 

Oh hell, why not just ring him? Talk to the guy? My heart beat louder in my chest at the idea. I felt like a silly young girl. Just ring him! 

I pulled my cell phone out of my bag. I dialed the number, his cell phone number. I heard it ringing. 

"Jem Russell speaking." 

God, there was that silky deep voice again. I almost froze at the sound of it, found myself leaving an uncomfortably long few-second pause before I finally stammered an answer. 

"Um hi, this is Anne Johnson, the model from the car show on the weekend. You gave me your card."

"Oh yeah, hi babe, how you going? I'm glad you rang, I haven't sorted anything out yet and I was really hoping you'd call. The function is on next Monday night and really it's a pretty easy job. It's a small do, I'm showing off a new product to a group of retailers. All you've got to do is go round serving drinks and aperitifs. I don't know what the going rate is, but how about $300? It'll start at seven and wouldn't think it would run much past about 9.30, so it should be an easy couple of hours or so. How does that sound?" 

"Um, well..." said. His rapid spiel had caught me right off guard. I almost didn't know what to say to him. "Umm, I'm not sure." 

"Um, OK, then why have you rung?" he said, his tone sounding slightly perplexed, and slightly annoyed. Why had I rung indeed – as far as Jem Russell knew, I was a professional show model. 

"Tell you what, I'll make it an even $500. You were the hottest thing at that show last week - you're worth that much at least. Give me your address details and I'll have my secretary send over the outfit. You've got the company address on the card. Be there a bit before seven if you can." 

"Er..." my mind was racing as I thought of how to respond, the words 'you were the hottest thing' reverberating through my head. "OK."

"Great. And hey, why not bring that cute blonde you were working with last Saturday. It'll halve the workload. We'll make it $500 for her as well." 

"Er, OK, I'll ask her." 

"Great. Thanks babe, I'll see you next week." 

He hung up. I slumped into my chair. What had just happened? What had I just done? I had clamed up like a shy little girl, mesmerized by his voice, unable to say no. Pathetic. And when I did try to say no – and I did try - he just thought I was pushing for more money! All I had to do was say the words 'no thanks'! What if he'd asked for my bank account passwords – would I have also been unable to say no to that!

Crestfallen, I fell into a depression for the rest of the afternoon. Running it over in my mind, it hurt on several levels. One, that I really wanted to date this guy, but was unable to communicate the fact and he didn't seem interested. Two, that I hadn't had the presence of mind to say no to being his car show model – when at any other times am I lost for words in any situation? And finally, that against my better judgment, I was going to be a car show model again! 

And Kelly! I'd almost forgotten I'd agreed to ask her to help me with this 'job'. I felt a deep sense of humiliation now that I would be going to her to ask her to help me in a show modeling job. Well, at least I knew that she wasn't going to make it worse by refusing, I thought to myself. And truth was, I wanted her there with me. I needed the support; I didn't think I could do it on my own. And I'd much rather do it with her than some girl I didn't know – a real show model.

Later that night at home I consoled myself with half a bottle of white and trashy sitcoms on TV. I was still mad at myself for letting this spiral out of my control. But the more I thought about it, the more I came around to accepting the situation. What's done is done. More than that, I realised that it had happened because I had been acting out a role. I mightn't have been wearing my car show uniform, but when I phoned Jem I somehow slipped back into that role. That, a car show model, was all he knew me as, and he addressed me as such. In our brief conversation I simply couldn't break out of it, out of character. And it was certainly out of character for me, I joked to myself. Or was I simply reverting to type? I thought back on my adolescent acting and modeling days. Of the certain thrill it gave me. How I experienced that buzz once more on Saturday, though in a different context. A very different context. 

Just relax, I told myself. You like this guy, some guy you actually don't even know at all, and in the heat of the moment you let your guard down and committed yourself to something you perhaps normally wouldn't have. Big deal. Who hasn't done that sort of thing in their lives before? And one night – only a few hours – and it would be over. 

Yet I was still thankful that work was busy the next day, keeping my mind occupied with things other than my impending 'job' next Tuesday night. But I still had to talk to Kelly about it. She was sure to understand; there's almost no chance she'd say no. I'd see her over lunch and discuss it. 

"Hi Kelly," I said as we met for our usual lunchtime chat. 

"Hi Anne, how's things." 

"Yeah, not too bad. But I have a favor to ask you." 

"You know the answer – yes, of course!" "

"Well, you don't know the question yet. Kelly, I met a guy at the car show and he wants me to model for him at a product launch for his company. And he wants me to ask you to do it with me." 

She almost dropped her fork. 

"What? Are you serious? You agreed to do it...?"

"Yes, it's serious. Look, I never meant it to turn out like that, but I met him on the day and I was quite taken by him. The guy is such a hunk! Anyway he gave me his card, and I rang him yesterday because I was hoping to arrange to go out with him on date. But I got flustered and it all came out wrongly, and next thing I knew I was agreeing to model for him." 

"Gee, he must have made a big impression!" 

"Well, yes. I don't know what I was thinking at the time." 

"Anne, of course I'll do it with you. When's it on?" 

"Next Tuesday night. It's just serving drinks and finger food. And we'll be wearing special outfits, of course." 

"What sort of outfits?"

"I don't know," I said sheepishly. I hadn't asked. "But he's sending them over." 

Inwardly I was cursing myself; I felt embarrassed that I didn't even ask what we'd be wearing. She could see the whole thing was making me upset. 

"Anne," she said, reaching over to put her hand on my arm, "don't worry, it'll be fine. And look, it's a chance for you to see this guy again. Who knows what might happen? It'll be fun. And I really enjoyed the car show, didn't you?" 

"Yeah, I did."

"So, what's the worry? I'm looking forward to it. I can't wait to see what we have to wear!" 

I was wondering about that too. Given it was a small function for business people, I expected it would probably be something reasonably classy. I wonder what he's picked out for us?

The rest of the week passed like a blur. And it had been productive. I threw myself into my work. A new client that I had been working on for some months finally came through. It was worth a lot of money. My boss was very pleased, and so was I.

On Friday I got a call from my friend, Wendy. We'd met at a marketing course the company had put me through a year or so ago. We got along well, and began getting together socially on and off for a while until she got a new boyfriend, the pair of them retreating into a life of domestic bliss – and no doubt plenty of action in the bedroom – as new couples so often do. 

Wendy and Roger were going to the movies on Saturday night and asked if I wanted to join them. It would be good to catch up with her again after so long. In fact, it had been a while since I'd caught up with any of my friends. I could hardly remember the last time I'd gone to the movies. 


Car Show Slut Ch. 02



Since I was going out for the first time in such a long time, I new outfit was in order – retail therapy time! Saturday afternoon I hit the mall. I picked up a few new business suits on special, some pants suits but also a few reasonably modest knee-length skirts, but what I really wanted was something with a bit of glamour to wear that night. Trawling through the large department store, I came upon the underwear section. What about some new underwear while I'm here, I thought? Why not indeed. Why not some more g-strings? I'd worn both sets to work during the week, and I was getting used to the feel of them. And I liked the fact that they were virtually invisible under your clothing. And I liked the fact that my ass looked naked under my clothing. 

If I'm going to continue to wear them to work, I'd better buy up big, I reasoned. So I did: I got whites, reds, blacks and grays, all with matching bras. On a whim I even got a black one with the word 'SEX' written across the front in red with white keylines... 

But what I was really looking for was a skirt, something to go with my big black boots. Spring was in the air; time to give the old wardrobe a spring clean with something perhaps a little less conservative than my normal fare. 

I couldn't decide between two skirts. They were both beautifully tailored, though rather short, in black and deep navy. The navy one was very short. I took them both. Either of these would look fine with a black button-up suit jacket that I'd bought some time ago but still hadn't worn. Satisfied with my morning's mall work, I lugged my new purchases back to the car and headed home. 

I showered and readied myself. The black skirt looked better with the jacket, so I chose that one. I selected one of the black g-strings and bras to go with it. No blouse required, the jacket buttoned up high and it wasn't cold out. With the skirt finishing halfway down my thighs, the boots topping out up neat my knees, I had to admit it was a sexy look – very sexy for me! The ensemble was simple, even austere, but absolutely sexy. 

Then I spied the black SEX g-string sitting on the bed among my various other new clothes. Well, it would match the bra, I told myself. Why not? I slipped off the one I was wearing and pulled on the g-string that read SEX across the front. Ready to go...

Wendy and Roger picked me up at seven. 

"You're looking well, Anne, how's it been going with you?" Wendy asked from the front seat. 

"Pretty good. Work's as busy as ever. This is actually the first night out I've had in quite a while." 

"Anything happening on the man front?" she asked. 

"No, not really." 

"We'll have to hook you up with one of Roger's buddies, eh Roger?" she said. 

"Well," Roger said, "I'll see what I can do. But Anne you surely can't have been looking very hard – I mean, you really are quite a catch, and you're looking very nice tonight." 

"Oh listen to him turn it on!" said Wendy. "Eyes on the road and hands on the wheel, Mister." 

"Yes ma'am!" 

The movie was Basic Instinct II. Not as good as the first version, but still pretty good. I mean, how could they top the original? That interrogation scene with Sharon Stone opening her legs in front of the guys, and them all just losing the plot, and even Michael Douglas as the tough guy of the film struggling to hold it together. 

"Feel like a drink, ladies?" Roger said as we came out of the cinema complex. 

Wendy and I nodded in agreement. We headed off to a bar down the street. It was great to be out socially with friends. We laughed and joked about work – Wendy was in marketing, like me; Roger was in advertising – comparing worst clients and our most spectacular screw ups. But every now and then I noticed Roger's eyes straying down to my legs. He was sitting almost directly opposite, so I guess there weren't too many other places for the poor guy to look. We were in one of those trendy cushions-and-low-tables kind of places – not really the venue for short skirts. On these too-soft cushions, if crossed my legs I would have to lean right back lest I topple over (especially after a glass of wine or two), but if I did lean back in the seat I'd be showing off too much thigh. So I had to sit straight, legs uncrossed, and after I noticed Roger checking me out I realised I had let my knees stray open just a little, maybe only an inch or two. I pulled my knees together. He couldn't have seen anything. 

As the night and our drinking went on, I began to get rather light headed. I was having fun. But I must have been more drunk than I thought, because leaning across to pick up my drink, the wine glass slipped straight out of my hand and smashed on the marble table. We all fell back laughing. 

"Girl, you're drunk!" Wendy laughed, as a waiter scurried over to clean up the broken glass. I had fallen back in my seat giggling at the silliness of it all, but when I looked up and saw the waiter bending down over the table I realised he wasn't looking at the mess on the table, but rather he was straining his head upwards and look straight at me. At my legs. Then I realised that my thighs had fallen open as I slumped back in the cushions. The waiter – and Roger – was staring straight up my skirt. It was then I also remembered that I had worn the SEX panties...

Slightly mortified, but really too tipsy to care too much, I pulled my knees back together and straightened up. The waiter finished his work and left us alone. But as we continued chatting I felt a hot flush on my face – how much had they seen? Did they see the SEX? 

"I'm just going thoo the ladies' room," Wendy slurred. She staggered off, leaving Roger and I alone. I was drunk, for sure, but she looked in a worse state than me. 

"You look really great tonight, Anne," Roger said. "Those boots – fantastic. I've got to buy a pair like that for Wendy." 

As he spoke, his eyes scanned across my boots, my legs. Commenting on the boots had kind of given him permission in a sense to stare at my legs, and he was taking advantage of it. Maybe it hadn't been premeditated on his part, but I had had a few too many glasses of wine, and I didn't have a lot of worries at that point in the night. I didn't care if it was just a ruse to perve at my legs. I liked the compliment. I liked him looking at me. I wanted him to look at me. 

"Why thank you sir," I said. "And Wendy sure would look great in boots like these. I've hardly ever worn them because I haven't had many things that go with them. But then I got this skirt today." 

"It looks great too," he said, now looking at my skirt. "There was a nervousness in his voice now, I could tell. 

My legs had strayed slightly open. It actually wasn't easy to sit on these cushions and keep them together. He was still looking at my legs. Before he had been very subtle about it, worried no doubt that he might get caught out by Wendy. But for the moment she wasn't here. His face had a flushed sheen to it now. So did mine, for that matter. My inadvertent exposure incident with the waiter was still fresh in my mind. 

The wine had got me in a very playful mood. I was feeling adventurous. While Wendy was still gone I decided to push this little interlude a little further; I was drunk, I was up for a bit of harmless fun. As I reached across for my glass, I let my legs fall open. It got his attention. It felt devilishly wicked to be acting like such a little slut in front of my friend's man, and all the while trying to make it look like an accident, like I wasn't aware how much I was revealing. 

"So, what are you guys planning tomorrow?" I said, for want of anything else to say. But as I spoke I shifted my leg under the table, so I could move my left leg further apart. So I could show him more. Yes, I was going to show him more. 

"Oh, er, not sure just yet," he said, his eyes dancing between my face and my skirt. "Probably just laze around the house," he added, leaning across the table to get his drink. In doing so he enabled himself to have a much closer look. He couldn't take his eyes away. As he leaned back into his seat, I opened my legs wider. With my elbows resting on my knees and my hands cradling my chin, I arched forward a bit and let my legs spread further apart as I did. All the while I tried to make it look as though I wasn't aware of how much I was showing; like it was all an innocent display. How convincing I was, in my state of inebriation, I couldn't be sure. But he was openly staring straight up my skirt. A flush of blood throbbed through my body as I watched his face, red now, looking almost like his head would explode. His eyes in total concentration, fixated on my now rapidly moistening pussy. My thong with the word SEX emblazoned on it... Ooh, it felt so naughty! 

"Ah, here comes Wendy," I said, gently closing my legs as I saw her meandering across from the other side of the bar. From so far away, she couldn't have seen the way I was sitting. In her condition, she must have been battling to see three feet in front of her. 

Roger gave out a kind of cough and straightened up his coat. 

"What do you think, guys? I'm ready to hit the hay!" Wendy announced as she fell into her seat. 

It was late. And I had had a fun evening. Teasing Roger like that was a deliciously naughty way to end a fun night. 

Driving back home, I noticed Roger adjusting the rear view mirror. But it wasn't a better view of the traffic in the rear window he was looking for. I noticed him making the odd glance in the mirror – more than the odd glance one might normally expect. He's hoping for a continuation of my little show, I thought to myself. 

And I was feeling frisky enough to keep it going too. But not with Wendy sitting in the front like that. Then a heard a gravelly snuffle coming from the passenger's seat – she was snoring. 

And Roger kept glancing back at me, watching, waiting. Exposing myself to my friend's man was not exactly a thing of which to be proud, but now she was asleep. And I knew from the look on Roger's face back in the bar that he would never tell Wendy about it. There was as much guilt written on his face as there was lust; it was clear that in this relationship, he'd be pretty much guilty by implication if he told her what I had done. No way was she was ever going to know. 

Every now and then I saw him glance over at Wendy, checking if she was still asleep. But he didn't need to - the snoring confirmed it. He was praying she wouldn't wake up. The way he was carrying on gave me a feeling of power, of control. It emboldened me. I caught his gaze a few more times in the mirror. His eyes were pleading: it was unspoken, but he wanted me to show him again. 

Look at him looking at you, a voice inside me said: that look on his face - he's dying to see more. Still buzzing from the alcohol, still high from the rush of exposing myself in the bar, I relaxed back into the comfortable, leather seat. I casually let my legs stray open. Just a little bit. I saw his eyes suddenly fix on their target. He was all attention now. He watched my legs in the mirror as I allowed them to spread further apart. Wide. As far as my tight skirt would allow. 

He was having a hard time in the driver's seat trying to control the car and watch the show behind him. Lucky it was so late; the traffic was relatively thin. I sat like that for a few minutes, legs apart, pretending to stare out the window while secretly glancing across to catch his gaze. Watching him watching me. 

Then I saw him move his hand up to the roof console. He was switching on the interior light. I bit cheeky, I thought, but then I considered the fact that I was the one in the back of the car with my legs spread, wearing panties with the word SEX emblazoned across the front. The cheeky one here is me. But the light illuminated my body in the back set was an acknowledgment that he knew. He knew I was acting deliberately, and it was an invitation for me to go further. 

And I wanted to go further, show him even more. Then a devilish notion flashed across my mind. 

I took a deep breath as I contemplated what I was about to do. I hesitated for a moment, but then a voice in the back of my head said: he wants it. And you want it. Know you're going to do it. 

Pushing the big heels of my black boots hard into the floor of the car, I lifted him hips off the seat. I grabbed the hem of the skirt, and pulled it up around high around my waist and sat back down. I opened my legs again – wider this time, as there was no skirt to get in the way. I looked down at my bare legs, my ass nestling against the plush leather. My legs spread wide across the back of the car. My pussy, shamelessly and openly on display under the black g-string, the word SEX. 

I looked into the mirror, smiling at Roger. He looked like he was holding his breath, as though he was about to have a heart attack. Now the poor guy was hardly looking at the road; at this rate we were going to be in a wreck. I motioned with my eyes that he should keep an eye on the road. 

With a chastened look, he dutifully obeyed. But not for very long. Before long his concentration was drawn back to the rear view mirror, back to between my legs. I wondered what he must be feeling. His cock must be hard from looking at the little slut in the back of the car. I bet he wants to get it out and jerk off, but he can't because his girlfriend is sitting right there alongside him. 

And I was getting more and more worked up myself. I had waded into territory I'd never been before. I felt like I was walking a tightrope. I could feel my lips swelling under his gaze. I was wet. I wanted to touch myself. Wanted him to see. But I couldn't bring myself to go that far. I'd never done that in front of a man before!

I looked down at my body, my bare legs spread wide apart, everything on display. I could see the sexy lace from my bra peeking out under the opening in the top of my jacket. Take it off, said a voice deep inside. Show him. 

I took a deep breath. With his eyes back on the road for a few seconds, I unfastened the buttons. Quickly down the row, I undid them all. He was watching again now as I pulled the jacket open to reveal my body, my lacy black bra, my boobs almost spilling out of the low cut design. I held the sides of the jacket wide open around my sides as he watched in fascination. His eyes ran up and down my body, drinking in the image. His forehead was sweating! I wanted to take it all off. But then I thought of Wendy – what if she suddenly wakes up? 

My clitoris ached for attention. Should I? Oh yes, you should. Look at him - he wants it. And you want it. I ran my left hand over my exposed thigh, sliding it up and across my abs. Down to my clit. Down to the word SEX. I found the nub. It was engorged. He watched me as I rubbed my forefinger across my clit. I wanted to close my eyes and lose myself in the sensation, but I wanted to see him watching me. My nipples were rock hard under the sexy lace. Roger let out a stifled moan as I slid my right hand across my boobs. He looked like he was about to cum. I continued to play with my clit. I could feel the sensation building in my loins as his gaze burned into my flesh. I grabbed by right breast and squeezed it hard. Ooh. Oohhh! 

A red traffic light gave him full opportunity. He looked across at Wendy. There was a look of panic on his face has his right hand went down to his crotch. Good, touch your hard cock, I mused to myself. I wished I could see it, see what I was doing to him. I continued squeezing my breast, feeling the hard nipple poking through the material against my sweating palm. The light had gone green but the car was still stationary. There was no one else on the road. I could see his arm muscles flexing now as he rubbed his hardness as the thought suddenly occurred to me that I had never seen a man masturbate before. 

The motion of his hand was slow and deliberate, forceful. Fascinating. Still he glanced across at Wendy as he rubbed his cock, but still came the buzzsaw racket from the passenger's seat at regular intervals. I watched him pleasuring himself as he watched me toying with my clit and boobs. We were nearly at my place now. This was about to end. Then the car jerked as the tyres hit a hole in the road. We had been lucky that's all we hit with how little he was concentrating on his driving. Wendy woke with a gurgle. I quickly adjusted my clothing as we entered my neighborhood. 

I got out of the car and leaned into the passenger's window. 

"Thanks guys," I said. "I had a lovely night. See you again." 

They both said their goodbyes and then the silver sedan drove off into the night. Standing there in the still darkness, the shame I did feel at what I had just done was almost totally overwhelmed by the sexual intensity of the feelings all through my body. Wendy would not have approved, that's for sure. But after that experience, he's going to give her a big workout when they get home, I chuckled to myself. She almost ought to thank me! 

Back in my apartment, I stripped off my clothes and threw them on the floor. I lay on the bed, naked, my body still tingling. I reached for the vibrator. Opening my legs, I pushed the head against my lips. I was dripping wet inside. No preliminaries were needed, the big rubber cock just slid straight inside me. I didn't even bother switching it on. I shoved it in hard, banging it inside me as I desperately tried to ease my frustration. I imagined Roger watching me now like this; what a slut, naked, legs apart, fucking myself with a big dildo as he stroked his cock up and down. Harder and harder I thrust it into me, until exhaustion and the alcohol took over and I drifted off to sleep. 

The dildo was still inside me when I woke up later in the night, the sheets soaked in sweat, my barely conscious mind awash with dreams of Roger staring down at me from above, grinning wickedly, telling me what a dirty little slut I was, his torso jammed between my wide open legs and his big cock thrusting inside me, hammering me, fucking me. 



Car Show Slut Ch. 03



I awoke on Sunday morning, hung over, but feeling good. I felt, well, I felt alive. What had gotten into me? My mind trawled through the events of the previous night. Did I really show myself off to Roger like that? Had I really done THAT? Yes, you had. And I liked it. And he was never going to tell, I could be sure of that, so it was going to be our little secret. I doubted he would even tell any of his buddies – that look of fear in his eyes as he worried about Wendy waking up; he wanted to see me, wanted it desperately, but if she ever found out, his world was going to cave in. That thought gave me a feeling of security, even power. Did I feel any guilt? I did, but the thrill of exposing myself like that felt just so good!

It was going to be a hot day. I had nothing planned. Why not spend a few hours at the beach? Take that Dan Brown thriller, lie on the beach and read, swim a bit – the perfect hangover cure. 

And why not go to that topless beach? 

Such an idea would have seemed unthinkable to me a week or so ago. But I had so much enjoyed being looked at lately. And men would be looking at me at the beach; they would see my naked boobs. Yes, do it. Under your dark glasses and cap you'll just be another anonymous topless beach babe. Topless beach babe. I liked that. I grabbed my things and got ready to go. 

The beach was about eight miles out of town. I parked the BMW and made my way down to the beach. It was fairly secluded, but fairly popular all the same. I found myself a nice spot about three-quarters the way down the beachside, where it was less crowded. There were groups of people here and there, but it was interesting to see the amount of women there bathing alone, just lying there soaking up the sun. Just like me. 

I pulled my little summer dress over my head and spread out my towel. I was wearing my black two-piece, a swim suit I had previously considered on the verge of risqué, but here amongst the tiny thongs and tops, my suit looked positively Victorian era. Some of the women were wearing bikini tops – most of which were little string affairs, so small they covered little more than their nipples – but the majority were topless. Feeling a little self conscious, I decided to keep mine on for a while. I just lay there on my back and relaxed, watching and listening to the surf as the waves gently tumbled onto the sand.

After about half an hour I rolled over onto my stomach. Settling down into the soft sand, I undid the string of my bikini top and let it fall against the towel. I grabbed the book out of my backpack. The sun was getting hotter. As I reached into the bag to get the tanning lotion, I noticed a guy down on the shoreline heading up towards me. Looking around, I realized there was no one else nearby. As he approached it was clear– that he was coming up to see me!

"Hi – Anne, isn't it?" he said. He definitely looked familiar, though I couldn't immediately put a name to the face. I was mortified that someone I knew had spotted me. But who was it? 

"It's Ron, Ron Jackson – from Wallgrove-Fordham?" he said as he took off his sun glasses. Oh God, I thought, as I suddenly recognized him and remembered the name - it's the new rep I had the meeting with last week. How could he have recognized me from so far off? My backpack bearing the company logo in a large emblem might have been some clue, I realized, looking at the pack beside me. And he's seeing me like this!

"Oh, hi Ron," I said, pushing my chest into the sand to hide my bare boobs as I lifted my arm to shake his hand, wishing I could just disappear into the sand. 

"Fancy meeting you here," he said. 

"Hmm," I said, trying to remain composed. It was distinctly disconcerting to me that a business acquaintance could see me in such a state of near nakedness, even if we weren't in working hours. Maybe the beach wasn't such a great idea after all. "It was a nice day for the beach so I thought I'd catch a few hours of sun."

"Yes, it's a lovely day," he said. "I'm down here with my wife and kids – they're down the other end. Just out for a beach stroll. Mind if I just rest up here for a few minutes?" 

Well, I could hardly say no. He sat down on my left and I turned my head towards him as we continued chatting. I couldn't see his eyes under his dark glasses, but by his body language it was fairly clear he was discreetly checking out my body. I moved my left arm down alongside my chest to cover my partially exposed boob.

We talked about work, the challenges he faced in his new position. Meanwhile under the hot sun, the skin on my shoulders was burning. I reached for the lotion and undid the cap, reaching back to rub some into my shoulders. With all the yoga I do, my upper back is rather flexible – I could easily apply the oil without having to lift my body and expose myself. But then Ron reached across and grabbed the bottle.

"Allow me," he said. 

"No, it's OK, I can do it." I had nothing against Ron – he seemed nice enough – but I didn't want a professional colleague rubbing oil over my naked back! 

He kept hold of the bottle – a little presumptuous, I thought to myself. 

"It's no problem, Anne, just relax. It'll be my pleasure." 

I relented, releasing my grasp on the bottle. His pleasure indeed, I thought to myself as I watched him squeeze some oil from the plastic bottle. The chance to rub his hands up and down the near naked female body of one of his work associates – I bet he can't believe his luck. Well, I thought to myself, you need some lotion on your back, and when all is said and done, this guy is a client of mine – it wouldn't pay to create a scene, even out of work hours. And the guy's wife was just nearby, so he was hardly likely to try anything. 

I rested back. I felt him drip the oil onto my lower back. Then I felt the touch of his palms as he massaged the oil into my skin. Pushing up along either side of my spine, it felt rather soothing as his thumbs worked into the muscles on my back. Soon he was rubbing me along my entire back, from the top of my bikini bottom up to my shoulders. Then he gently massaged the oil into my shoulders, slowly, and down my arms to my elbows. And massage was what this was – the guy was not simply rubbing suntan lotion into my skin, he was massaging me! Ron was giving me a slow, sensual massage. And I was enjoying it. He did have a wonderful touch; not too hard, but firm enough to get into the muscles. The feeling of his hands, the slick oil and the hot sun on my skin was very nice. Very nice. I felt his hands stray lightly along my upper sides, close to my breasts flattened against the towel. Rubbing the oil into my sides, his hands and his fingers briefly ran down along the very outer edges of the curves my breasts. I felt slightly panicked. But it felt so good! As he continued it occurred to me how long it had been since a man had touched my skin like this. Too long. 

Then he stopped. I lay there almost dreamily as he put the cap back on the bottle, but awake enough to castigate myself over the fact that I was almost disappointed he had stopped. 

"All done," he said. "Shall I do your legs too?" 

My legs? I don't think so, I thought. Not my legs. 

"No, it's OK, they're fine – but shouldn't you be getting back to your family?"

"They won't miss me for a few more minutes," he said, as I heard the cap come off the bottle again. "And you'll be done in a flash." 

Before I could respond I felt the oil being poured all over my legs. It felt like he'd emptied half the bottle. Oh, well, I thought, just grin and bear it. In any case, it did feel oh so good as his hand clasped firmly around the lower calf muscle of my right leg, sliding up to my knee and back down again. He kept going, up and down, developing a rhythm until I felt my leg begin to heat up through the friction of his hand and the excess oil being squeezed away under the pressure he was applying. He was pushing his fingers firmly into my calf muscles, just like a professional masseur. It felt very nice, but it was embarrassing, mortifying that he could see me like this, because I knew he must have been getting a great view of my ass and legs, along with the fact that he was feeling my legs. Oh yes, he was thoroughly enjoying this; I could almost sense it through the slow, sensuous movement of his hands. But so too, I had to admit, I was enjoying. I was loving it despite myself. 

He moved to the other leg, giving it the same treatment. So good! Then, rubbing his thumbs firmly across the back of my legs under the knee, he progressed to my thigh. Using both hands now, he rubbed firmly up and down, one hand down on my inner thigh, the other around the outer, his thumbs meeting in the middle. He was massaging the oil into my thighs hard and slow, his upper strokes reaching a few inches below my bikini bottoms. With each stroke he got closer, closer. Inexorably, the sensation of his firm touch was going straight to my pussy. I tried hard to put it out of my mind that this was a client that was doing this to me. But try as I might, instead I just further surrendered to the feeling in my body. Oh God, I was getting turned on! 

Then he switched to the other leg. My left thigh now luxuriated under the same treatment. As his hands reached higher and higher I felt my pussy begin to throb. Oh yes, this was turning me on. I was getting wet. I prayed it didn't show, or that he couldn't smell my arousal! 

My body suddenly stiffened as his hand ran right up my inner thigh, to the very top of my leg. His hand grazed my ass. It was then I suddenly realized to my shame that my legs were opened more than I had thought. Now he had one hand gently caressing the outside of my upper thigh while the other continued to rub my inner thigh. Only now, though, he had stopped the long strokes along my entire thigh. His fingers were rubbing the tops of my inner thigh and around my ass cheek. I was getting lost in the sensations now; I almost didn't care who he was, I wanted to be touched. I lay there as he rubbed my leg, softly now, maybe less than half an inch away from my now swollen, throbbing lips. Please, a voice inside me said, please touch me!

He kept at it for another agonizing half minute or so, his fingers so close yet so far away. I was almost willing him to do it. I found myself letting out a slight moan, but it embarrassed me so that I quickly stifled it.

I could barely stand it. As his finger moved up along my thigh, I couldn't help myself. I pushed myself down the towel, towards him, if only by an inch or so. My movement would have been barely discernible, but it was enough. His finger hit the spot. I felt his fingers contact against my pussy lips through the material of my suit. Yes, that's it... Then his fingers snaked underneath me. Far from trying to stop this work associate from feeling me up, I actually wiggled my ass on the towel to aid his access. How shameful. He now knew I wanted it. He took the hint. His hand slid under me to cup my pussy. I felt the top of his middle finger reaching for my clit. Ooh... I lifted myself a little higher, helping him. He began to rub his fingers up and down my outer lips. Ooh, yes! Then I felt a finger slide inside the elastic of my bikini. Oh no, he's going to...

Then in a flash his withdrew his hand.

"Anne I think I'd better be going," he said as my mind tried to understand what and why, my skin aching for the touch that had been suddenly taken away. "I'll see you later." 

And with that he was off, heading quickly back down the beach. What, I thought? What was that all about? Then I saw. A few hundred yards down the beach, there was Ron meeting up with a woman and a couple of kids. He'd obviously seen them coming.

Disappointed, even frustrated now, I slumped back on the towel on my back. God, that had felt good. I'd have cum against his hand had he kept that up much longer! But with a work associate? Letting yourself get felt up by someone from your business life, on a public beach? It was so wrong. But then a lot of wrong things seemed to be happening to me lately. Just as I seem to be horny most of the time these days. I laid back, not caring that my boobs were exposed now, and idly let my legs fall open in a comfortable position. My nipples were hard from all the attention. What a sight I would present to any guy walking past right now. I near naked chick, legs spread, nipples hard, pussy wet... I laid there contemplating that, too turned on to return to my book. I laid there resting back on my elbows, so that I could watch the people walking past. And all the men that came by looked up at me, up at my bare tits on display between the arch of my opened legs. 

With the sun beating down I was just getting hotter and hotter. Time for a dip. I stood up and strode down to the water, passing a man and a woman walking along the beach. I hadn't bothered putting my top back on, and my naked boobs gently bounced up and down as I walked. It was the first time I'd ever exposed myself outside in public like this. I watched as the guy checked out my tits, his wife looking away. She didn't approve. 

The water on my body felt exhilarating, sensual. The cooling liquid flowing over my body, the sound of the waves and sea birds overhead, the hot sun. I felt quenched, somehow more connected to the natural world. I swum for about half an hour before black clouds appeared from the horizon to signal an impending storm. Time soon to go home. 

Back at the flat, I headed for the shower. I looked at my naked body in the mirror. I could see that I'd got a little bit burned. Good thing I wasn't wearing a top, I thought – wouldn't want to have tan lines showing under my car show outfit! God, girl, listen to yourself – you're starting to sound like a real car show model! 

Looking in the mirror, I liked what I saw. I had never previously thought much of my body; I knew I was in pretty good shape but I never seriously thought of myself as anything all that special. But now my body looked good. I looked sexy. I felt sexy. I looked at my pussy. Look at all that hair. I wonder what it would look like without all that growth? How would it feel to have no hair down there? It would feel so smooth. I bet it would feel good. And so many girls are doing it these days. Shaving their pussies. Shave it – shave your pussy. Such a simple thing, but it felt just a little bit naughty just thinking of it. I would do it. I grabbed the scissors and started cutting the longer strands until it was short enough for the razor I used for my legs. When the job was done I showered and toweled off. 

It was raining now. The storm was on the far horizon, the sky lighting up occasionally to the odd flash of lightning in the distance, but it was still raining solidly. I walked out onto the balcony to watch the light show in the dark sky. The wind was lashing against the building, the rain hitting the building at a severe angle. I was getting wet. The night was still warm and the rain and the wind felt invigorating on my skin. I thought about being in the water at the beach. I undid my robe and let it fall to the floor. I stepped forward, close to the balcony railing and let the rain hit against my naked body. My shaved pussy. I stood there for some time, getting wetter and wetter as little rivers of water started rolling down my face, my arms, my boobs, my legs, until I felt completely immersed. In the building opposite some lights were on. People were home, but I could see no one. The wind dropped and soon the rain stopped. I went back inside, dried myself and climbed into bed. 

Monday morning on the way to work I checked in at my post office box. The modeling outfits from Jem had arrived. Inside the box were two parcels. I left one in the car and took the other into work with me to give to Kelly. 

"Kelly, here it is – don't open it till you leave the office," I almost whispered to her as I placed the parcel on her desk. The flash of her eyes showed me she was excited, like she'd just been given a birthday present. 

So too was I excited. Well, it was a nervous excitement, but I was dying to see what we would be wearing. And it was just tomorrow night, one day away! And I would get to see that hot guy Jem again...

And I was like a kid with a new present when I got home, that night, I had to admit. I ripped open the parcel. It was a short little off-white dress, with just a hint of blue. There was a dark blue stripe up the left side, with the company's logo on across it, over the breast. It zipped up at the front. The material was a kind of stretchy lycra, only thicker, like a very thin wetsuit. I stripped off my work clothes and tried it on. It fitted perfectly. The stretchy material felt very nice against my skin, and it hugged all my curves just right. The material also nicely supported my braless boobs, even without an inner lining. And the dress wasn't as short as I thought; round about half way down my thigh. 

Then I spotted a small note in the opened parcel: Wear either white running shoes or white pumps – but both girls must wear the same. 

Better call Kelly, see what she wants to wear. 

"Hi Kelly, it's Anne. Have you opened your outfit?" 

"Yeah, isn't it great!" she giggled. "I've got it on now. How does yours look?" 

"It looks pretty nice," I said. "It even feels good. So what do you think, runners or pumps?" 

"Runners. It's kind of like a tennis outfit." 

"OK, runners it is." 

This was going to be fun, I thought to myself. The outfit's fine – it really was a bit like a tennis outfit. Not slutty at all. 

Just then the door bell rang. Ah, I suddenly remembered, that'll be the pizza I ordered on the way home in the car. I looked into the closed circuit security TV screen on the wall. It was the pizza guy. I pushed the button and let him into the building. I'd been half way to stepping out of my new model uniform when the pizza boy buzzed, so I quickly zipped it back up. Looking at myself in the mirror, I realized that the zipper was the cleavage controller in this outfit. You could pull it way down and expose, well, pretty much everything, or take it almost right up to your neck. The door bell rang; the pizza guy had reached my floor. I looked in the mirror and tossed my long hair back with a flick of my head and I reefed down the zipper to below the line of my boobs. I'll give the poor boy a bit of a thrill. 

I opened the door, took the pizza and handed him the money. He kept looking up at me as he fumbled for the change. I wasn't showing off that much, but with the zipper down like it was my boobs were practically spilling out of the dress. He was struggling between finding the right coins and getting an eyeful of my cleavage, and then he dropped them all over the floor. We both bent down to collect them, but I got most of money. He just seemed to squat there in a daze. I glanced down at my chest; my left boob was pretty much out there in the open. My nipple pressing against the fabric was about the only part that was hidden from view. He collected himself, said 'enjoy your pizza, Ma'am', and scurried off. 

Tuesday morning dawned. I had gone to bed early, and slept soundly. I felt great. Stepping out of bed, I didn't even bother putting on any clothes for my morning yoga. I greeted the new day completely naked, my newly shaved pussy on display before the entire world. Only there wasn't anyone about. I went through my routine. It felt liberating, so natural to be doing my yoga poses like this. And the balcony was reasonably secluded, I thought, glancing up to the rows of apartments opposite. Well... 

Tuesday at work was meetings, meeting and more meetings. Meetings seem to be the way of this line of work, but most of the time they don't produce any kind of useful outcome. This was one of those kind of days. By mid afternoon in the midst of another drone session from some consultants the firm had hired, I almost found myself drifting off. But wearing a g-string, as I tended to do most days now, it wasn't that comfortable sitting down for long periods. Nevertheless I couldn't help by zone out, but every now and then feeling a tinge of excitement flood through my veins at the thought of what I would be doing in a few hours time. 




Car Show Slut Ch. 03



I left work bang on five. I had told Kelly to be at my place before six. I got home, showered, dried off. I pulled the white dress over my naked body. It felt great, just like it had when I tried it the night before. I went to the drawer to select some panties; white, of course. Then the thought hit me: why not go without? Don't wear any. I looked into the mirror. It wasn't like the skirt was all that short. And it was tight fitting, so the hem wasn't going to blow around or anything. And it felt so good against my naked skin. No panties? Why not? No one would ever know. 

Just then Kelly arrived. 

"Hi Kelly; wow, you look great!" 

She did look good. With her bigger boobs she really filled out the little dress. I could see she'd chosen to go braless, too. 

"Ok, it's beautification up time!" she announced. 

"Eh?" 

"I decided we should jazz it up a bit with a bit of makeup," she said, pointing to her face. "I've done mine, and I've brought my make up kit so I can do you – so we'll match. Grab a chair." 

So sweet, I thought. She'd done a good job on her make up – subtle, none too flashy, but effective. 

I sat down. She grabbed two chairs, one for the make up kit, the other for herself. She positioned herself directly opposite me. 

"OK, we'll start with your cheeks." She leaned across and applied the blush liberally. 

"Hey, not too much!" I said. 

"Don't worry, it's not as much as you think. Just relax – I'm an expert." 

"OK," I said, "I'm in your hands." 

She had to sit in close to apply the makeup. So close that her left knee was resting against my inner right thigh. I couldn't help but be conscious of the touch of her leg on mine, and her skin felt so soft. Her face was very close to mine as she applied the blush. She was wearing perfume. She smelled sexy. 

"OK, that's done," she said, moving back to put the blush back in the makeup bag. "Now for your eyes." 

She moved back in close again. Closer this time, as she went about the delicate process of doing my eye liner. Again her knee and thigh rested against mine, only this time it was further up, quite high inside the opening of my legs. I looked down and watched her knee pushing inside the hem, going up under my dress. She was obviously good at makeup, something I'd never really been into. 

"You've obviously done this a few times, Kel," I said. 

"Oh sure, I used to work part time in a beauty salon. Now, hold still!"

I obeyed. All the while I was aware of the touch of her leg on mine. Every now and then the pressure between our two thighs shifted as she changed position. Then I felt her thigh moving against mine, moving forward. She seemed to be gently rubbing her thigh against mine. I didn't care whether or not it was deliberate; the slight friction of her silky skin on mine felt fantastic. She paused for a moment to inspect her work, and I settled back, making myself a bit more comfortable in the chair. My legs were slightly open, I noticed, so almost as an instinctive reaction I pulled the left one in. With that it brushed against her thigh nestling against my other leg. I was loving the feeling of her leg on mine, warm, soft, like velvet. I pulled left leg in tighter, until her leg was being gently held between my inner thighs.

She gave me a slightly quizzical look. 

"Just making sure I keep myself still," I said with a smile, as I gave her leg a bit of a squeeze. We both giggled. She looked so sweet as I watched her work on my face. Her face was so close to mine as she finished off my eye liner, her beautiful blue eyes a picture of concentration, and those luscious full lips adorned with light red lipstick...

She was nearly done when I felt her push against my thighs again. Being fawned over like this felt so luxurious, but so did the feeling of her thigh between my legs. I relaxed my grip on her thigh as she gently moved it further inside, way up high. Any closer and she'd be touching my pussy. She'd feel my wetness, because my juices were flowing. Again. I gripped her again, squeezing tightly. Very tightly. 

"OK, done," she said as she slid out from me, moving back to get a better view of her work. "Very nice."

Then I noticed her eyes drop down to my legs. They were still open. She was looking up my dress. Her eyes widened as I quickly pulled my knees together. 

"Anne," she said. "Are you not wearing panties?" 

I blushed. 

"Um... no. I decided not to. The dress felt so nice against my skin, and it's just long enough, so I thought, 'what the heck?' 

"Wow!" she said. "That's pretty full on." 

Then she stood up. Facing me, she hitched up her dress, the tight material hugging her hips and waist to reveal a simple white thong. Her thumbs went under the elastic sides and with a wiggle of her hips she pulled her panties down her legs and stepped out of them. 

"Ta da!" she said, twirling the little g-string around her finger as she stood there in front of me, dress up around her hips, naked from the waist down. 

"If you're doing it, I'm doing it," she said. "After all, we wouldn't be a matching pair, would we?" 

Whatever the logic in that, I just sat there, staring. She was shaved, just like I was now. I had never seen another woman like this up so close before. I couldn't take my eyes off her, her beautiful smooth pussy. It almost seemed to sparkle in the light – in fact, it was sparkling! Then I saw – it looked like she had a ring through her clitoris! 

"Kelly, what's that you've got there?" I had to ask, peering intently at her clit. 

"Oh, that's my clit ring. I got it a few months ago. Do you like it?" 

I'd heard about such things but never knew of anyone actually having one. I leaned across for a better look. The idea slightly horrified me; I had images running through my head of a big bull with a thick steel ring through its nostrils. It was a perfectly round, gold ring, sitting there hanging down loose against the hood of her clitoris. It was hard to imagine anything more lewd, more daring – she had been pierced, by someone, probably a guy, and pierced THERE...

"I've never known anyone with one of those," I said, still not taking my eyes off the piercing, off her pussy. I moved in closer. 

"Does it hurt?" 

"Not now. Actually, it feels pretty good, especially... " She trailed off. But I understood what she meant. She still had her dress up around her waist, showing me everything along with the clit ring. I felt free to gaze upon it. Then she moved right up close. I was still sitting, so her pussy was at eye level. My face was about a foot away from her beautiful bare pussy, her gorgeous honey colored legs. Her slit was shining slightly under the light. God, I could smell her now, the smell of another woman. It was assault to the senses that was foreign and totally familiar at the same time. Intoxicating. I felt my face drawn towards her, my senses drinking her in, the aroma, her sweet pussy like a soft, ripe, round peach. 

"Can I, can I touch it?" I asked, hardly believing I had just said it. I was almost shaking. Shaking with excitement, with fear, with wonderment. I was about to touch another woman! 

"Yes please!" she giggled. She seemed so relaxed, as opposed to my own quaking self. 

I reached up my hand and touched the ring, sliding my fingers down until they rubbed on the soft skin of her hood. I held it with two fingers, either side, just holding it there, feeling the soft, silky texture, the new sensation of another woman's sex in my fingers. 

"Ummm, that's nice," she said. I looked up at her and smiled. If only I was as beautiful as her, I thought, as I watched her looking down at me across the lovely round outline of her generous tits, her wispy light colored hair dancing across her face, her wet, naked pussy just inches from my mouth... Then I glanced across at the clock. 

"Shit, we're going to be late! Let's get going!" 

She pulled down her dress and I grabbed my overcoat and bag – I didn't want anyone in my apartment to see me dressed like this. We jumped in the car and sped off. I handed Kelly the road map and she sorted out the directions. Luckily Jem's factory was not far away. If we were late, it wouldn't be by a lot. 

"Kelly, I can't believe we're doing this!" I exclaimed as I hit the gas pedal, the BMW roaring through the dawdling lines of traffic. "Here we are dressed like this, going off to be industry hostesses serving drinks at some car function. And we're not wearing panties!" 

"Yeah," she said. "It's pretty wild. Never thought I'd be doing something like this. Is this the wildest thing you've ever done?" 

"Well," I said. "It's probably not as wild as what we did in Rick's car at the car show!" 

We both laughed. 

"So girl," I said, feeling delightfully frisky, "what's the wildest experience you've ever had? I suppose it would be getting that clit ring."

"Oh no," she said. "That was just embarrassing. And it hurt like hell for days afterwards. But it's great now. I'm sooo glad I got it."

"OK, if it's not that, then what?"

"Well, one spring break, I ended up in a wet t-short competition." 

"Wow, that's pretty wild." 

"Yeah. It was fun. Up there, all those guys checking out my tits, hollering. So what about you Anne – what's your wildest experience?" 

I had to think. I didn't really do wild things. But then I thought about Saturday night showing myself off to Roger. That WAS wild. No, I couldn't tell her that! Then there was Ron at the beach. Well, that wasn't all that wild – but it was so wrong! Maybe I did do some wild things...

"Well, if you don't count the car show," I suddenly found myself saying, "I guess it would be the time I had sex in the mall car park with my boyfriend. Oh God, I can't believe I just told you that!"

"In the car park?" 

"Yes!" 

"Did anyone see?" 

"No." 

"Were you hoping anyone would come?" 

"Well, no, I was hoping – I was praying! – that no one would come out of the elevator while he was fucking me. He was fucking me over the hood of the car!" 

I was using the words 'fucking me' in general conversation - I'd never spoken so boldly with another woman before. It felt so nasty! 

"Actually, it was weird – because though I didn't want anyone to see me, the possibility that someone would was such a turn on!" 

"I can imagine!" she said. "But Anne I can match that one. For sex, I mean." 

"Oh really? Do tell!" 

"Rick and I had a threesome with another guy!" 

"Kelly!"

"Yep, about a month ago." 

"How was it?"

"It was... well, nice, but a bit strange. I mean, to be fucking a guy I didn't really know – and doing it with boyfriend. One night we went to a dance club, and when Rick was in the men's room this guy came up and asked me to dance. So I did. Afterwards he kind of hung out with us for a bit, we were having a great time, and Rick asked me if I fancied him – the guy, I mean. Well, this guy was hot. Later Rick asked me if we should invite him back to our place, and I said yes." 

"Wow! I've never come close to anything like that." 

"But there was more to it than just a normal 'threesome'," Kelly continued. I was on the edge of my seat. What more could have happened?

"I've never told anyone this," she said, "so please don't tell anyone – especially Rick." 

"OK," I said. "My lips are sealed. I'm like Sergeant Schultz – I know nothing, Na-thing!"

"Sergeant who?"

"Never mind, I guess you're too young. Now, back to your story. What happened?" 

"Well, after we had sex, together, we were all pretty wasted. The three of us fell asleep on the bed. In the morning when I woke up, I could hear noises. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the other guy – his name was Warren – he was sucking Rick's cock! And I could hear Rick moaning! Then I turned and saw that Rick had Warren's cock in his mouth! They were in a sixty-nine, giving each other a blow job!" 

"Oh my God Kelly!" 

"I could hardly believe my eyes. Rick looked up at me like he was about to explain, but he still had his mouth full with Warren's cock! Oh God, it blew me away, but I wasn't really upset about it – I mean, like, I'd just been fucking both of them the night before. But I was just totally shocked." 

"Were you disgusted?" 

"No. To be honest, it was one of the hottest things I'd ever seen! My man with a hot-looking guy, both naked, and they both have great bodies – and sucking each other's hard cocks. It was so erotic to see them like that, I couldn't believe it!" 

"So, what did you do?" 

"I just sat there staring. Once they realized I wasn't pissed, the just kept at it, and I just lay there and masturbated while I watched them. It was so horny!" 

"Did they... did they cum?" 

"Oh yeah. And so did I!"

"Gee, that's pretty kinky. Certainly beats my story..." 

"Does it horrify you?" she said. 

In a way it did. Two hot guys together like that – I could hardly imagine such a thing; well, I could, because obviously some men are gay, but not when they'd both just been with a woman, the same woman - Kelly! It disgusted me on one level, but on another I was fascinated. An image formed in my mind of the two naked hunks on a bed, their strong muscular bodies glistening in sweat, sucking each other's hard cocks, their lips sliding up and down ... oh my! 

"No, not at all," I said. "I was just thinking then about what it must have looked like..."

We both laughed. 

"But did you talk to Rick about it afterwards?"

"Oh yeah, I fronted him. He said that years ago he and a school chum used to fool around a bit with each other. They were both into girls, but they were too inexperienced to know how to get with girls. It went on for a little while until they both got girlfriends. He said he never told me because it was so long ago and as far as he was concerned it was a closed part of his life. Then, that morning with the three of us in bed together, he woke up and found Warren was going down on him, and it just went from there. I believed him." 

"But would you do it again? I mean, you know, you, him and another guy?" 

"Umm..." she paused. "I think so. Yep!"

Very soon we arrived at Jem's office. It was one of those places that's part office, part factory, one of those new industrial developments. Not the big end of town, but not Hicksville either. I took a deep breath as I stepped out of the car. I stripped off my overcoat and folded it over my arm. Here we go! We were late. Luckily the function didn't appear to have started yet, although there were some people inside wearing name tags. They were clearly guests. 

I saw Jem over in the corner. He was wearing a stylish grey business suit, white shirt with a green tie. He looked great. He strode over to us. 

"Shit babe, you're late!" he whispered into my ear. But it was a whisper that was more like a controlled shout. There was menace in his voice. He was clearly pissed. Then he grabbed me roughly by the arm and escorted me to a side room. Kelly followed. He was holding my arm very tightly; he was almost dragging me across the room. I could feel the anger through his grasp. 

"Look, I'm sorry, we just got held up a bit," I said. I felt deflated, hurt. All this anticipation and now he's yelling at me! 

"I don't want to hear it!" he bellowed. "Now, let's just get to work." I felt humiliated. Then he forcibly swung my body around to face the other side of the room. There around the corner behind a partition was a guy slaving over a grill preparing small pieces of grilled chicken and shrimps. He had already assembled several plates of food, with some salad pieces as well. 

"Here, this is Rich, he's the caterer. He'll tell you what to do." 

With that Jem stormed out of the room. I almost felt like crying. I thought about packing it in and walking out, going home. But I couldn't; to quit like that was against all my principles – I agreed to this, so I would do it. Kelly put a comforting hand on my shoulder. 

"Hi, I'm Rich, obviously," said Rich. He was a young guy, probably a college kid. 

"Anne," I said, shaking his hand. "And this is Kelly." 

"Hey, don't take it personally," said Rich. "I copped an earful from him before myself. I don't know what's grinding his gears, but that guy's an asshole. But look, just relax; there aren't many people here yet, so you don't have to do anything for the moment. Here, have a drink." 

Rich offered us both a glass of red wine. I took a big gulp. So what if Jem yelled at me, I thought to myself. I don't know the guy. He may be cute, that doesn't mean he's not also an asshole. Let's just get this job over with and get the hell out of here. 

"This your main job?" Kelly asked Rich. 

"Nah, I'm at college. I just do this part time. My Dad's a chef and I guess I learned a few things about cooking as a kid. It's amazing how much easy work you can get doing this kind of function stuff. Easy money. What about you guys?" he said, looking at me, "I bet you get plenty of work like this." 

I wasn't sure what to say. In any case, I wasn't really in the mood for conversation. 

"Oh yeah," Kelly chimed in. "We did a car show the other week, that was fun. Next week we're doing a lingerie fashion show." 

I almost had to laugh. What a minx! She was really hamming it up. And the expression on poor Rich's face – he looked like he'd be prepared to sell his soul to see us in the 'lingerie show'... Rich was kind of cute in a down home, nerdy kind of way. He had a bad haircut but a warm smile; he seemed like a gentle, genuine kid. I wondered whether he might even still be a virgin...

We sat back and talked 'shop' for a while, and I even joined in talking about my 'modeling career', how I'd modeled in a department store catalogue. Well, it wasn't a lie! Rich just sat there transfixed, as if he was in the presence of two beautiful movie goddesses. I felt my spirits lifting. Then Jem poked his head through the door. 

"Hey, what are you people doing in there! You're not being paid to sit on your asses! Get to work!" 

He was an asshole. 

"Don't worry about him," Rich said as he handed Kelly the food plate and me a tray of beers and wines, "It's only going to be a couple of hours and then we're out of here. Just walk around the room with the trays and offer them. You don't have to talk to anyone, unless they talk to you. Oh hell, what am I saying; you guys know what to do!" 

Out we went. .By now the room was quite crowded. People were milling around in groups. There were a few women, but it was mostly men. I could feel their eyes on me. I felt a strange sense of anonymity, disconnectedness, because while the men were leering at my body intently, few said anything, just simply pausing from their conversation to take a drink from my tray, and then resuming their chat. It was as though I was invisible as a person. It didn't bother me; I wasn't here for my brains, but it was a strange feeling all the same. 

The night wore on. Soon I was getting bored. Any romantic notions I had about Jem were long gone. He is an asshole. And the only name he's ever called me is 'babe'. Babe! Asshole. 

Soon Jem called for quiet in the room as he prepared to make a speech. He gave a slide show presentation of his new product to the gathering, but he clearly wasn't a great communicator – even with that lovely deep voice of his. I had no idea what the product was, but I was sure I could have done a much better job of showing it off than he was doing. And that's before you even got to the question of marketing the thing. He has no idea. He has no idea how well I could have sold his damn device. And he'll never know. 

The only enjoyable part of the evening was when Kelly and I were 'back stage', as it were, with Rich, refilling our trays. He was working hard for his money. I hoped Jem paid him well. 

Soon the guests began to leave. By 9pm there was only Jem out there and two other men, the three of them deep in conversation. I guess this show is over, I thought to myself with a real sense of relief. I'd had more than enough of Jem and his JR Electronic Systemz. What a stupid name! 




Car Show Slut Ch. 03



Kelly was off in the ladies' room as I settled back on the bench behind the partition, and Rich began to pack up his things. I offered to help him. 

"No, no. I wouldn't dream of it," he said. "Just sit here with me and chat while I finish up – that's more than enough help." 

This guy was sweet. 

"Rich, thanks for being so nice tonight, you've got no idea - it really helped me." 

He blushed bright red. 

"Aw, thanks, but really, to work with two beautiful models like you makes putting up with that asshole out there worthwhile." 

I felt touched. Poor guy. I wanted to do something for him. Make his evening's work a bit nicer. Make it memorable. Hmm, I thought. There is something I can do...

"Rich, have you got a girlfriend?" 

"Um, no... not right now." 

It was a question from left field, for sure, and it did catch him off guard. He was turning red - it obviously embarrassed him. From the way he was looking down at the floor, I imagined that he had never had a girlfriend. My heart went out to him.

"Hey honey, come here," I said to him softly. God, I was laying it on. Poor boy. I didn't want to scare him, I just wanted to show him, make him feel good. 

By the look on his face you could tell he'd sensed the change of tone in my voice. And that I'd called him 'honey'. Fumbling around nervously, he accidentally dropped his cooking tools on the floor. Then he stood up. 

Kelly hadn't returned yet; Jem was still out there with his customers. Now or never, I thought. I was still sitting on the bench as Rich stood up. I looked up at him. I opened my legs. Not too wide, but enough so that he could see what I wasn't wearing. I moved my hand to the zipper of my dress. I watched his eyes widen as I slid the zipper down. Over my boobs. I unzipped myself all the way down and opened the dress. My boobs sprang free. He stood there like a zombie, staring. I reached for his hand, and placed it on my right breast. His hand was sweating, shaking. He looked at me with disbelieving eyes as he cupped my breast in his hand, holding it just so, as if he was too scared to even move his hand. I loved the feeling of the boy's hand on me. I imagined I was the first woman – a model! – that he'd ever felt. I pulled him closer to me. With my hand on the back of his head, I drew his mouth down to my other boob. 

"Go on," I whispered in his ear. "You can." 

He got the idea. His mouth opened and with an audible moan his tongue slid across my nipple. He ran his tongue around and around the nipple, flicking the tip, then sucking the whole nipple into his mouth. Oh God, it felt so good! How long had it been since a man had licked and sucked my nipples? And Rich seemed to know what he was doing – maybe he wasn't a virgin. 

I was conscious that someone might come into the room and catch us like this, but out of the corner of my eye I could see the doorway entrance from behind the partition. As Rich continued to worship my nipple with his mouth and tongue I grabbed his hand and lowered it down. He let it lay limp as I guided it between my legs. I wanted Rich to feel me, feel my wetness, feel what a slutty, shaved model's pussy feels like. As I placed his hand between my legs, his head jerked and my nipple slipped out of his mouth as he moaned again – I don't know what he was thinking, but he clearly hadn't been expecting me to put his hand on my pussy! I held my palm over his hand as he ran one finger up and down my slit. Ooh, I was getting wetter under his touch! He found my opening and gently pushed the tip of his finger inside. As he toyed with my pussy his mouth went back to my nipple and he sucked it feverishly. He bared his teeth across the nipple. Oohh! So gooood! 

I heard voices approaching. Rich quickly jumped up as I zipped up my dress. I grabbed him and quickly kissed him hard on the lips. 

"Rich, I'm not what you think," I whispered in his ear. "I'm not a slut." 

The look on his face was one of someone waking from a dream. 

"No way, you're not that – you're, you're beautiful!" 

I grinned and gave him another quick kiss just as Kelly walked into the room. Rich went back to packing his things. Pretty soon we were ready to go. As the three of us headed back out into the foyer, I saw Jem say goodbye to the last of his guests. 

"Any of you guys want to hang around for a drink?" Jem said as he turned to face us. 

"No thank you," I said. "We'll be leaving now." 

"Oh fine, just take the money and run," he said, his tone sarcastic as he reached into his wallet and pulled out the cash. He paid us. Then, flicking his fingers through the thick wad of remaining greenbacks in his hand as though it was a set of playing cards, he glanced up at Kelly and I.

"Sure you girls don't want to hang out for a while?" 

By the way he played with the money and the snide tone of his voice, it was quite clear what he was implying. I couldn't believe this. His ill manners and bad temper were bad enough. But what a sleazebag! He's dangling cash in front of Kelly and I, virtually propositioning us like prostitutes – and right in front of Rich! My blood was boiling.

"Listen, buddy," I growled. "We are not prostitutes. And how dare you be so presumptuous! You think you're such a big man, but you're really just an arrogant, bad tempered asshole. And that product presentation – what a joke! So bad it was embarrassing to watch! Whatever that electronic gizmo is, it had better be good, because the guy trying to sell it has no idea. Come on, Kelly," I said, grabbing her hand, "let's get out of this shit hole!" 

Jem just stood there, saying nothing as the three of us walked towards the door.

"Wait," said Jem, his voice restrained. "What about the outfits?" 

The outfits? Oh, he wants the God damned dresses back. I had my overcoat slung across my arm. I'll give him his fucking outfit, I thought to myself slyly. I turned to face him. 

"Oh, you want the dress back now? I think you'd look good in it, too. Here you go." 

With that I zipped it down, rolled it off my shoulders and let if fall to the floor around my feet. Suddenly I was naked, except for my runners, naked in front of Kelly, Rich and Jem. Naked but not vulnerable, not exposed; I felt in control. Powerful. Stepping out of the dress, I flicked it across at Jem with my foot. It landed at his feet. 

Jem just stood there, lifeless like a stone carving, his face a picture of fear as he looked at my naked form. I stood there in front of him like that, and proudly. 

"Take a good look, asshole, because this is the last you'll ever see of me," I said to him as I put my coat on. "You know Jem, the only reason I took this job was because of the impression you made on me at the car show. I thought, 'gee, this guy is nice, I'd like to get to know him better'. You know Jem, if you'd have been even half way nice tonight, all this could so easily have been yours." 

To emphasise 'this', I gave him a final quick flash of my naked body under my coat. Then I turned towards the door. 

"And Jem," I said, as the three of us turned to leave, "Kelly will return her dress later – eventually. Oh, and one last thing – the name's Anne, not 'babe'." 

I didn't want to look at him again, but I could see his reflection clearly in the plate glass of the building's window walls as we walked to the front entrance. He hadn't moved. He had that look about him you see in B-grade movies where someone's just been stabbed or shot, and they're in this state of suspended animation just before they're about to topple over and die. It made me chuckle inside. 

Once outside, Kelly turned to me and grinned.

"Wow, that was sooo ballsy! I can't believe you did that! Did you see the look on his face?" 

"Yeah, that killed him," Rich laughed. "And he deserved it." 

Rich's battered old Lumina was parked next to my BMW. 

"Nice car!" he said. 

"Thanks Rich. Hey, it was really fun working with you. You have nice night." 

"You too," he said. Then with a sheepish smile he handed me a small piece of paper. It was his cell phone number. Then he waved as he stepped into his car. 

"See ya, Anne, see ya Kelly – hope the lingerie show goes well. You will be the hottest girls there I'm sure!" 

Kelly and I looked at each other, grinning, as we climbed into the car. 

"Well, that was an experience!" Kelly said. 

"Yeah," I said. "What an asshole that Jem turned out to be. But I feel a whole lot better now." 

Soon we were back at my place. 

"Coming up for a coffee, Kel?"

"Yeah, why not. Actually, a drink would be better." 

We were still laughing about the stunned look on Jem's face as we reached my floor. I opened the door and we went inside. Instinctively I made to remove the overcoat and hang it on the hat stand by the door, but then I remembered I wasn't wearing anything underneath. Better leave it on. 

We were still in the hallway when Kelly turned to face me. She put her arms around me and pulled me in close to her body. I could smell the perfume now mixed with the sweat from her skin. I drank in her scent as she looked into my eyes. 

"Kiss me," she said. 

Kiss her. Oh yes, I wanted to kiss her so badly. I lifted my head to hers and our lips met. Gently at first, just a little peck, but then I felt her hand wrap around my head as she pulled me closer. She kissed me back, hard, her soft red lips mashing against mine, her tongue invading my lips as her arms wrapped around me and she ground her crotch into mine as the force of her passion pushed me hard against the wall. My hands fell to her ass and I gripped it tightly, squeezing, my hands on a woman's ass for the first time in my life. I could feel the curve of her hips, it felt so different from holding a man like this, the thought flashed through my mind as she kissed me feverishly. I held her tightly, rubbing my pussy against hers. Oohh, the pressure of her boobs rubbing against mine, I just wanted to wrap myself within her soft skin. 

She pulled away with a sudden jerk. Her mouth was open; she was panting. Her hair was messed up. She ripped open her zipper and peeled off the dress. Her body was perfect – her soft, flowing curves, so completely unlike a male body, more spectacular than I could ever have imagined. I felt myself almost swooning! She let me gaze upon her for a short while, then she tore open the buttons on my coat and pulled it off my body. Now we were both naked. 

I took her by the hand and showed her to my bedroom. 

She gently pushed me onto the bed and laid herself on top me. She kissed me again. Her beautiful big boobs felt like velvet against my naked skin. I could feel the heat from her sweet pussy as she ground it against mine. Up and down, round and round, her hips gyrating like a sexy club dancer. I could feel her wetness on my body. She ground her crotch into mine with such force, almost as though she were a man. Our juices were flowing freely. Her wet pussy on mine felt deliciously slippery, so exquisite! She was breathing hard, panting. She stopped kissing me to catch her breath. 

"Ooouhhh," she cried, "this is nicer than I ever thought it would be!" 

She had arched her back as she regained her breath. Her big tits hung down so that our nipples were almost touching. When she shifted and her right nipple rubbed across my breast, we both looked down at out chests. 

"Ummm, that feels gooood!" she purred. Then she brought herself down a little, so that her nipples were touching on mine. She wiggled around a bit, our nipples gently rubbing against one another. I had never felt anything like it. Such delicate contact was sending a shock wave through my nipples, and it thrilled me even further to know that it must have been doing the same to her. She had thrown her head back, gyrating her upper body now against mine as our nipples danced together. Seeing her like that, sweet little Kelly, so wanton, consumed by lust – for me! - I could hardly believe it was happening. Young Kelly from work, naked and lying across my own naked body, writhing in ecstasy through my touch, and my own pussy on fire from the attentions of this sweet, beautiful girl...

She lifted herself up on her elbows and smiled sweetly at me. She kissed me. Then maneuvered herself down the bed. Between my opened legs. Oh God, she was going to lick me! 

I felt her tongue sliding along my upper thigh. She stopped along the way to give my leg little kisses. Then she moved to the other leg. Looking down my body, I watched her work on me, her hips and ass high in the air, back arched and head between my legs. Then I felt her tongue slide along my outer lips. Oohh. My body tingled under the slippery touch of her tongue. Then she moved the other side, licking me up and down, up and down. She licked delicately across the hood of my clitoris. Her touch was so light, yet the feeling went so deep inside me! Ooohhh, she was going to make me cum! 

Then I felt her tongue touch my slit. Ever so lightly she slid her tongue up and down, then pausing down low, at my opening. I was aware of myself spreading my legs wider for her, as wide as I possibly could. I was opening up for her. Her tongue found the spot. This was so different from being with a man. She knew EXACTLY what to do, where to touch me, how to touch me. Her tongue snaked inside me. I felt the sensations flooding through my veins. Oh, she was making me cum... Little explosions started going off inside my brain. She was fucking me with her tongue! I started to cry out. I was crying, weeping as my body shuddered in ecstatic overload. My legs clamped tightly around her head, but she just kept going, eating me as I convulsed under her, until finally the sensations subsided and my muscles relaxed. I slumped back on the bed, exhausted, my heart still pounding hard in my chest.

I must have passed out. 

I awoke to the light of the sun peaking under the blind. It was morning. Kelly was gone. There was a note beside the bed that read: 

"Anne, sorry, I had to go. Didn't want to wake you. See you at the office sexy! – love Kelly."



Car Show Slut Ch. 04



"Oh hi! Thanks for calling back. Um, I apologize for being so forward, but I was kind of wondering whether you'd like to catch up for a drink or something." 

"Yeah, OK, why not?" 

"Oh great! What's a good time for you?" 

"Um, what about tonight?" I said. 

"Um, OK, yes, I'm free tonight."

"How about 7 at the Red Oak?" I said. It was the only place I could think of. 

"Yes, alright, that'd be fine. See you then." 

Wow... I am about to go on a date with a woman – because surely that's what this must be. Why else would she have given me her number? A date with a woman. Me. My heart began to race. It was such an extraordinary thing for me to be doing, notwithstanding what Kelly and I had done together the other night. What would it be like to go on a date with a woman? I had no idea. 

Worked dragged on well after 5pm. I would have like to have gone home and changed into something nicer for my 'date', but there was no time. No matter. Anyway, it was just a drink; two women meeting in a bar for a drink. 

I arrived at the Red Oak on time, chuckling to myself about the fact that this was the second night in a row I'd been here. I scanned the room. There she was, sitting at one of the tables. Soon she saw me and waved. She'd obviously come straight from work, too; she was still in her jeans and Tee. 

"Hi Anne, thanks for meeting up." 

"No problem – it's just great to go for a drink after a hard day at the office. What are you having?" 

"I've just ordered a carafe of white – you can join me with that if you like." 

"OK, sounds good." 

I sat down and got comfortable. I wasn't sure what to say. What does one say when you're a woman on a date with another woman for the first time? About half a minute passed without either of us saying anything. Then she spoke. 

"I hope you don't think I was too forward in giving you my number – I mean, we don't know each other. I just liked your style, and I thought, well, why not, nothing ventured, nothing gained. 

"I'll be upfront with you," she continued. "I'm bi, and I'm a bit of an exhibitionist. I enjoyed serving you very much, VERY much; and I thought, well, the vibe you were putting out, you know, in the change room?" 

"Um, thanks," I said. "I wasn't aware of it, but I guess you could say I am a bit of an exhibitionist, although that's something I've only discovered fairly recently." 

I felt strangely comfortable talking about my life like that after she had laid it out so bare like she had. She seemed very nice. Even so, I wasn't prepared to tell her I was bi – I mean, I didn't really even think of myself like that, even though I had had sex with Kelly. And I was looking at this girl and admiring her in more than just a friendly sense. Maybe I ought to face the fact – girl, you are bisexual. 

We small talked about work for a while, but it was as though we were both skirting the issue. I decided to move it along. To be honest, I was keen to know more about what she meant by 'exhibitionist'.

"Sarah, tell me about your, um, exhibitionist, er, I mean exhibitionism." 

She smiled as I stumbled over the words. 

"Well, I like being looked at. I REALLY like it. I didn't use to – I am really quite shy; I had a fairly strict church upbringing and I guess I was a bit repressed when I was younger, but in my late teens I used to notice how guys would look at me, at my body. Even the local preacher used to. I used to tell myself it was only my dirty mind, but it wasn't. They would look at me like they wanted to see me naked, and secretly I liked it. 

"But about six months ago something happened." 

"What?" I asked. 

"Well, I saw this ad asking for young girls to pose for a photographer. I don't even know why I looked at it. Anyway, this guy was offering money, and I'm always short of cash, because the clothes shop job is only part time and I'm a student. I thought about it, I thought about how it would be easy money, but also that it might be fun. It wasn't something I'd ever thought of doing before, but over the next few days I just kept thinking about it and thinking about it, and in the end I just kind of dared myself to do it." 

"So, what happened?" 

"I met him at his apartment, and I did it. He took naked photographs of me." 

"Wow... But weren't you worried about what he'll do with them – what if he put them on the internet?" 

"He told me he wouldn't, unless I wanted him to. I took him at his word - he was sweet, not a creep at all. And I really did enjoy it. I loved the effect it had on him to see me naked – he made me feel beautiful and sexy. And he wasn't a sleazebag about it at all; he was actually really nice. It was surprising; I felt so... so sensual. I liked it so much I went back and did it again – and the second time was much steamier!

"And with the internet thing - the funny thing with that is that now I'm putting the pics on the internet myself!" 

"Really?" 

"Yeah. I blurred my face so you can't recognize me, and posted them on one of those amateur picture sites. Anne, you wouldn't believe what a turn on it is to know that thousands of men all over the world were looking at my body lusting over me, you know – and they post comments, too!"

"What do they say?"

"All sorts of things. Some just say something like I'm the hottest babe on the site, others – many – ask to send more pics that show my face. Others want to see pics of me blowing a guy. Hey, I hope this isn't shocking you."

"No, it's OK. It's pretty wild, though." 

"Yeah. It might sound silly, but it's kind of opened up a whole new world for me. Not the internet thing, although I'm going to post some more pictures soon – it's quite addictive! But it's just how I feel about myself. I guess it's like I don't feel threatened when guys look at me now. I feel more in myself, bolder, strong. It's like giving you my number. I mean, I've been bi for a long time, and been OK about it, but before there's no way I would have given a complete stranger my number like that. But now I take chances like that. And taking that chance worked, because you agreed to come out with me." 

"Hey Sarah, you'll never guess why I was in your shop buying that bikini." 

I told her the story of Roger's buck's night. Her eyes lit up – especially when I told her about showing off to him in the back seat of his car. 

"Ooh, that's... so out there! And you're going to be a hostess at a boy's night! I would never have thought of doing something like that. And you're going to wear the bikini with black boots?"

"Yeah, I think so!" I said. "Do you think I'll make an impression dressed like that?" 

"Oh yeah. I'd like to see you dressed like that. You'd look very hot." 

She meant it too – there was a faint but unmistakable look of desire in her eyes. It thrilled me inside to see her looking at me like that. She wanted me. 

"Hey Anne," she said, with an excited look in her eyes. "Do you think I could join you on Saturday night? You know, make it two drinks girls?" 

I paused for a few seconds, thinking of what to say. Then she cut back in. 

"Look, sorry there," Sarah said, "that was a bit forward – we've only just met. But I'd love to do it, love to do it with you." 

"Oh, why not?" I said. "Sure, let's do it together!" 

"Great!" she said. "What shall I wear – should I wear the same as you?" 

"I don't think it matters, just as long as it's sexy," I said. 

"Oh, don't worry about that – I know how to look sexy!" 

We both laughed. I took another sip of wine and realized I was starting to get a little tipsy. It was getting late, and it was a week night. I suggested that we ought to hit the road. We walked out of the bar together. I felt like holding her hand but couldn't bring myself to do it. My car was just down the street. 

"How you getting home, Sarah?"

"Bus, I think." 

I asked her where she lived. Her apartment wasn't far from mine, so I offered her a lift. She stretched back into the leather seats and started a gentle groove to the music on my MP3 player. She looked great doing that; Sarah had a lovely fluidity to her body. Soon we were at her apartment building. 

"Coming up for a coffee?" she asked. God, how many times had guys asked me up for a 'coffee' before? It was code word for something else. And, I remembered, it was also exactly what I'd said to Kelly after Jem's function the other night, although I hadn't meant it that way then. Well... I looked across at Sarah's sweet smiling face, her taut little boobs and flat stomach. Oh yes, of course I wanted to come up for a coffee...

Her apartment was near the top of the building – quite a flight of stairs. As I walked behind her, watching her tight butt in those low rider jeans swaying gently, seductively from side to side as she walked, it occurred to me that she'd get as fit as she was just by running up and down these stairs for every day. 

"God Sarah, you need an elevator here," I said. 

"Yeah, but you get used to it after a while."

Eventually we arrived at her apartment. I followed her inside. There was a young guy there sitting on a sofa watching TV. 

'Hi Sarah," he said. 

"Hi Gary. Anne, this is Gary, my roommate." 

We exchanged hellos and Sarah and I went into the kitchen. I was a little put off by the fact that she had a male roommate there – God, he would know! She made us coffees and we stood in the kitchen chatting.

"Hey," she said, "come and I'll show you something." 

She led me into another room. Her bedroom. There was a computer near the window. 

"Here, I'll show you my shots on the website." 

She got the page up and stepped back behind me, so that I could get a closer look. 

"Scroll down. What do you think?" 

The pictures looked fantastic. Very artistic portrait stuff, some black and white. She looked so sexy, like a Goddess. 

"You look great," I said. "Very hot." 

I had sat myself in the chair and she was leaning over my shoulder now. She placed her hands on my shoulders. I could feel her warm breath around the back of my neck. 

"Yeah, the photographer did a great job – I can hardly recognize myself!" 

Then I sensed she had moved in closer. Her hands slid down my shoulders and around my waist as we both looked at the naked images of her on the screen. Slowly her hands reached around my sides. Glancing down, I watched as her hands came up to clasp around my boobs. I felt her lips graze my neck. Then she kissed my neck. I felt the cool wetness of her mouth as she opened her lips against my skin. My nipples were stiffening as she more urgently fondled my boobs, but even as hot as she was making me I felt uneasy over the fact that Gary was just out in the other room and the door wasn't closed. I couldn't do it, not like this. I gently brushed her away. 

"Sarah, look, it's late, I'd really better be going." 

The disappointment was plain on her expression as she nodded an acknowledgment that it was time for me to go. It wasn't that I didn't want to spend the night with her. For a moment I even thought about inviting her back to my place. 

She showed me to the door and we stepped out into the hall, Sarah pulling the door closed after her. 

"Hey, sorry for coming on like that," she said. 

"Sarah, hey, it's OK. And listen - don't think that I didn't want to. It's just that with your roommate there, I just didn't feel comfortable." I reached out and put my hands in hers. 

"Look," I said, "it was a lovely night, it was great to meet you, and maybe we can do it again. And anyway, I can't go all the way on the first date!" 

We both laughed. Then she leaned in closer. We looked into each other's eyes. Inexorably the moment approached, that moment that everyone has, that mixture of uncertainty and sheer lust: the first kiss. Our lips met. She kissed me with a gentle passion, her lips opening just slightly, the tip of her tongue sliding across mine. I wrapped my arms around her and kissed her harder, grinding my body against her. I could have stayed like that, kissing her in the hallway for hours. God, I wanted to go back inside, lay on the bed naked with her, run my hands all over her; even if Gary was there. Ooh, what a thought: what if he was watching us... 

I broke the spell. I pulled back. I had to go home. I gave her a last peck on the lips as I prepared to go. But then she grabbed my arm. She lifted it up and placed it on her right boob. She looked at me with a boldness in her eyes as my hand luxuriated in her beautifully soft, round flesh. I raised my other hand to reach for the other one. 

Then she reached down and grabbed her shirt. She yanked it up around her shoulders, taking her bra with it. Her tits on display in the hallway, she grabbed the back of my head and pulled my lips onto her chest. My lips found an exposed and lewdly erect nipple. She moaned as I started licking, sucking her nipple. 

Then I head the front door of the apartment building close. There were footsteps – someone was coming up the stairs. I started to fret, but she held me tight to her chest. 

"Don't worry," she said, "it'll take them time to get up here. Please, don't stop!" 

I went back to worshipping her nipple, sucking one, cupping the other in my hand, and gently squeezing her nipple with my fingers. The footsteps got louder. It was time to stop. She released me (not that I needed restraining) and pulled down her top. 

"I'd better go," I said. "Hey, see you on Saturday. Here's my number – ring me." 

I made my way down the stairs and back to my BMW. My pussy was on fire. Sitting in the car, I seriously thought about going back up the stairs. Another time, I thought to myself. It was only the first date, after all...

On the drive home I couldn't help myself. One hand on the wheel, the other up under my skirt. God, I had just nearly had sex with a girl I had only just met! And she was so hot – what a cute, sexy little thing. I opened my legs and rubbed myself harder, slipping a finger inside. Good, it felt good, at this rate I was going to cum whilst at the wheel of an automobile. Stopping at the lights, there was an older guy in an Eldorado alongside. I glanced across at him as I continued to fuck myself with my finger. He couldn't see anything. Could he tell? He looked slightly bewildered, slightly unsure of himself, like there was something wrong but he couldn't put his finger on it. I felt devilish. I smiled at him as I plunged my finger deeper inside. Ooh, if only he could see what a slut the driver alongside was! 

I slept well that night. My vibrator served me well as I drifted off to sleep. 

Next morning I decided I'd wear one of my new outfits. I chose one of the skirts, a mid-thigh length gray, coupled with a white blouse. No need for a jacket in this weather. Modest back pumps completed the look. A little bit sexy, certainly more risqué than what I'd normally wear, but well within the bounds. 

Today we would be working on the Luca account. I'd be overseeing a couple of our juniors, Brad and Pete, who were working on turning some of the concepts I'd devised into something more tangible. This was a slow and often laborious task, but necessary. Sometimes the finished result ended up quite a departure on the original idea, and sometimes not, but either way it was a process that had to be undertaken. 

I was beginning to think I'd stepped over the line dress-wise when I arrived at work. I noted more than the odd surreptitious glance in my direction, and it was obvious Mr Sheldon was giving me the once over behind his round-rimmed glasses. I called Brad and Pete into the board room so we could see what they'd come up with. 

They were both not long out of university, anxious to impress – probably about where I was about five years ago. For both of them, this was the biggest thing they'd worked on. 

I noticed them both looking at my legs when they walked into the room. It wasn't as though I was dressed like a whore, but they were seeing more of me than they'd ever seen before, I had to concede. I could tell by the look in their eyes pretty much what they were thinking. 

"We were thinking of the young and groovy approach for this job," Brad said, "you know, a little bit quirky, a bit, um, sexy." 

I could see they were wide of the mark. They had a model – admittedly they had opted for a slightly older woman than your typical 20 year old stick figure – and seemed to be banking on the old 'sex sells' theory. 

"Good try, but I think you're missing the mark. If we're going to go the direct personal endorsement route, we'd be better off with a star celeb. But that's going to cost, and anyway people tend to see through that kind of thing these days. 

"I know this is a hard product to sell, but this isn't close to what I had in mind. We need to centre it around women, but we have to realize that women are probably the major purchasers here. What you've got here would attract maybe young males, and probably older ones, but that's about it. Go back and have another think about it. Have another read of the brief. I know it's not that tangible, but we need to focus on quality and value, couched in a sense of fun – because washing isn't a fun thing." 

"OK," said Pete, gathering up his laptop. He was staring at my tits all the while. This I realized blouse was more sheer than I thought, especially in the light in this room. "We'll give it another go. We'll email up a rough draft of the concept before we go the whole hog." 

They went back to their offices as I gave their roughs the once over again. No, they missed the mark. Frustrating but inevitable. And these guys needed to learn. Hopefully they'd be able to come up with something better. Looking down at the desk I noticed that the strong ceiling lights were almost x-raying by blouse. God, I thought, you can practically see right through it. I wondered what Brad and Pete must have been thinking; that's why Pete was staring – he must have been able to clearly see my lacy white bra under the blouse. But I liked the idea of him looking and enjoying the show – not that I was putting on a show. I wondered about those two; a couple of young, good looking guys, not much responsibility and plenty of stamina to party hard. Probably a lot like the guys I was going to be parading in front of and serving drinks to on Saturday night. Dressed like a little slut. This was going to be fun...

I went to bed early on Friday – too many late nights this week for me. I woke late, 9am, feeling fresh, feeling a sense of anticipation of the coming night's work, and meeting up with Sarah again. I wonder what she would wear? She'd look great in something skin tight and revealing – that body, her smooth olive skin; she'd look hot. God, I thought to myself, you're starting to think like a guy...

Naked, I went out on to the balcony to do my yoga. Such a sense of freedom to do this naked; I don't know why it had never occurred to me before. And it was unlikely that anyone could see me – the floors of the apartment across the street were a few hundred yards from me. You'd need a pair of binoculars to see anything. Or a decent zoom lens camera. I wonder if anyone was up there watching...

I was in the middle of my leg stretch cycle when I heard to the door bell ring. Shit, it must the plumber. I had arranged for a plumber to come on Saturday morning to fix a leaking faucet, but he wasn't due to till 10. The door bell rang again as I scurried inside, yelling 'just a minute' as I did. I quickly threw on my silk robe and answered the door. 

"Hi, sorry we're early but we had another job nearby that we've just finished," he said. He was a burly, thick set guy, probably in his late '50s. There was younger man standing behind him. 

"Yeah, no problem, come in," I said. Better to get it over with quickly rather than hang around all day for workmen to turn up. As I led them into the kitchen I could see their reflections in the window that they were checking out my ass as I walked. My naked ass concealed only by a short, silk robe. I better change out of this thing, I thought. 




Car Show Slut Ch. 04



Just then the phone rang. It was Sarah. 

"Hi Sarah, how it's going?" I said, slumping into the sofa. 

"Good. I'm looking forward to tonight – I can't wait! Hey, what are you going to wear?"

"Well, probably the bikini you sold me, and maybe a short skirt over the top of it." 

I noticed the older plumber look back over his shoulder at me when I said 'short skirt'. Better watch what I say here! 

"Sounds hot," she said. "Maybe I should wear something like that too. Will you be wearing boots or heels?" 

"Not sure," I said. "I've got some nice boots, but I've also got some three-inch pumps that I've never really worn yet." Again the guys glanced across at me from the kitchen. 

"What's all that banging going on there?" she asked. 

"Oh, I've got the plumbers here fixing some pipes. 

"Are any of them cute?" 

"Kind of. They got here early; haven't even got dressed yet, but it's better to get the job out of the way."

"I hope they didn't see you naked!"

"No, I grabbed my robe." 

"Gee, you're nearly naked with two guys in the house. That's kind of kinky; well, to me anyway." 

"Yeah, guess it is," I laughed. 

"Doesn't it make you just a little bit horny to think you've got strange guys in your house and you're dressed like that?" 

"Yeah, a little bit," laughed. 

"Hey, why don't you give them a little show?" she giggled. 

"Sarah, you're terrible!"

I thought I was giving them enough of a show sitting here like this, and talking about wearing bikinis and short skirts. I already had their attention – they still kept glancing back at me every now and then. 

"Go on, Anne - I would." 

I didn't respond immediately. 

"Go on, I dare you. Just let the robe open a bit. I bet 'Angie' would." 

The younger man was now working under the basin but the older guy was working on the floor with some water fittings. He'd arranged himself so he was looking straight back into the living room. Any time he glanced up from his work, he was looking straight at me, about ten feet away. His brow was sweating. 

"Have you loosened the robe?" Sarah said. "Go on." 

"Yes."

"Just shift around a bit on the sofa, like you're stretching or something. Let it open a bit more. Are you doing it?" 

"Yes." 

"Is he looking?" 

"Yes, from time to time." The combination of the sound of Sarah's soft, sweet voice and her bold directions for me to show off my body were setting me off. She was getting me aroused. 

"Show him, Anne, show him more."

I felt somehow compelled to comply. I leaned forward to grab a magazine off the coffee table. The movement allowed the silk garment to billow out at the front. It was now pretty much open all the way to my navel, though my breasts were still hidden by either side. Just. 

"Is the robe fully open now? Can he see your tits?" 

"Almost," I said, mindful that I had to watch what I said, in case he cottoned onto this private little dare game. 

"Are your legs crossed?" 

"Yes." 

"Uncross them. Go on." 

"OK." 

The shift of my body in this movement caused the left side of the robe to billow open further. I felt the silk material glide across my nipple, which by now was rock hard. Half of my boob was exposed. The plumber didn't seem to be doing a lot of work now. 

"Open your legs for them." 

"No. Um, I don't think that would be advisable." 

"OK. Then let them see your tits. Don't make it look too obvious. Don't give the game away." 

"OK." 

"Tonight, I'll pick you up about 6.30," I said, as I leaned forward, so that the sides of the robe would fall further away. It still wasn't enough. If I was going to do it and make it look like an accident, I would have to try something different. Did I want to do it. Yes. This was really turning me on. The guy was fiddling around on the floor but basically looking at me the whole time now, though still pretending to be engrossed in his job. At this rate the work was never going to get done. 

OK, I figured, do it. I shifted to the side, and rested back against the cushion. Now with my body partly side on to the workman, my robe only needed to fall open a little more and everything would be on display. My arm held against my body was the only thing holding the robe in place. 

"Are you doing it?" 

"Yes." 

"Oh Anne, this is making me soo horny! Is it doing the same to you?" 

I paused for a moment before responding.

"Yes." 

Then I relaxed my arm and let the silk fall from my body. My left breast was still covered, but the right one was completely exposed. 

"He's still looking?" 

"That's right." 

"Can he see you tits?"

"Yes."

"God, I wish I could see you there right now! I bet his eyes are popping out!" 

He was looking, alright. His mouth was practically open. The look on his face was a mixture of shock and excitement. But I was getting a little uneasy about this – as much as it was making we wet letting him see, if I went much further they'd be jumping on me. 

"Um, I think I'd better go now," I said. 

"You're not going to fuck them, are you?" 

"No! But look, I really should be going. I'll see you later tonight."

I hung up and pulled my robe back into place as I headed for the bedroom to get changed. The plumber went back to work. I was so horny I actually considered for a fleeting moment of walking back in there and dropping the robe to the floor. No, I couldn't do that. I pulled on an old pair of jeans and t-shirt. 

Soon their work was done. I wrote them a check and they were on their way. As I listened to their footsteps as they headed down the stairs, I pulled my jeans down and laid on the sofa as my hand went to work on my clitoris, easily working myself towards a powerful orgasm. 

I spent the rest of the day cleaning the apartment. By five it was time to get ready. Boots or heels, I wondered? Heels. I had a pair of gorgeous black pumps my last boyfriend gave me, but I'd only ever worn then in the house while dressed in lingerie. With three-inch heels it made walking almost difficult, but standing in those shoes I was so much taller! I put the bikini on and grabbed the short black skirt, but at the last minute I decided to opt for the g-string. I looked in the mirror. Big heels, g-string under that little black skirt, and nothing up top except a black bikini – it was less than I'd ever worn going out at night. Could I possibly have looked any sluttier? Anyone who saw me in the street like this would think 'slut' or maybe even hooker. Yet it still gave me a peculiar thrill that I would be seen in public like this. 

I called Sarah on her cell when I neared her place – I didn't want her roommate to see me dressed like this. I waited in the car out the front till she came down. She was wearing an overcoat. She also had high heels – they looked even bigger than mine. 

"Wow! Sexy, sexy, sexy!" she said, in a quite convincing imitation of the Fat Bastard character from the Austin Powers movies as she got into the car. I smiled. 

"So girl," I said, "what are you hiding under that coat?"

"Oh... this," she said, pulling it open to reveal a black lycra bra top. "And this." 

Her skirt was a tiny tartan number, pleated, ultra short. I almost couldn't believe she was wearing something as skimpy as that in public. No wonder she had the overcoat. 

"Mmmm, I hope you're wearing something under that tiny skirt, girl," I laughed. 

"Maybe I am, maybe I'm not," she giggled. "Yeah, course I am – this thing is way too short. I did think about it, though..."

As we drove on we chatted about the morning's little accidental exposure exercise. She told me a few of the things that had happened to her, when she'd ended up showing a lot more of herself in a public place that might normally be considered appropriate. 

"I like to dare myself," she said, "like I did with you this morning. Actually, what I'd really like is for someone to dare me – but not just dare me, but force me, force me to show myself, - not just a dare - but where I had no choice." 

I pondered on this for a while. I liked it that men drooled over me, but I wasn't sure about being forced to expose myself. But wasn't she kind of forcing me this morning to show myself to the workmen?

"This is going to be awesome fun!" she said. "You know, the idea of you being Angie, not Anne, that's exciting. I'll have to invent a persona for myself. I'll keep my name, but... maybe, if anyone asks, I'll say I'm an exotic dancer or something. Yeah, that it's – I'm Sarah, model, and exotic dancer!"

Soon we had arrived at the hotel. It was a small place, a fair way out of town but still in a reasonably large and fairly respectable metropolis. The 'private function' was upstairs, the security guy at the door told us, his eyes glued to my tits as we entered the building. Oh God, I bet he thinks we're the strippers... I had been self conscious of our appearance as soon as we got out of the car and walked gingerly across the loose pebble pathway in our heels; really, we looked like two total sluts. 

The function room was reasonably large, with a bar at one end and a pool table at the other, with a small stage off to the side. Roger was there waiting for us. 

"Hi Angie."

"Hi Roger. Rog, this is Sarah – she's going to be helping me out tonight." 

"Great! Hi Sarah, pleased to meet you." 

His eyes nearly popped out when she slipped off her coat. Roger was like a cat that ate the cream. 

"Wow, you look great – you both look absolutely stunning!" 

"Thanks," I said. "Now, what will we be doing?"

"OK, it's a free tab on the bar – that's one of my financial contributions to the night – so all you've got to do is walk around with the drinks trays and offer the guys drinks. The barman will keep the trays coming. The stripper will be here in an hour or so. She'll do her thing and then go, and after that if things are still kicking along, if you wouldn't mind hanging around for a bit that would be great." 

"Yeah, no problem," I said. "It should be a fun night." 

"Hey, Jeremy!" Roger called out across the room. Jeremy came over and we were introduced. He almost didn't know where to look. At that moment I remembered there was a bit of acting required here – if I wanted to maintain any sense of anonymity I had to play the role of Angie, drinks model, whom Roger was paying to be here. 

"Hi Jeremy," I said. "I hope the night goes well – you're last night of freedom, honey!" 

He turned bright red. He looked too young to be getting married. The other guys, his friends, were all quite young too. Most of them were eyeing us off, the only girls in the room, and dressed as we were. In our heels, we were actually taller than a lot of them...

Then Roger introduced us to the barman, Dave. He seemed a nice, bit weathered around the edges but not bad looking for a guy who must have been in his late 50s. Soon we were off with our first trays of drinks. I sampled the sole glass of wine amongst a sea of beers on my tray. I wasn't feeling anywhere near as nervous as I had before the Jem function, but there were still a few butterflies. The wine helped. 

I sidled up to a group of guys chatting. This was an older group, probably early-30s, so they weren't all young. 

"Drinks, Sirs?" I asked, doing a little mock curtsy as a flourishing gesture. 

They all took one. 

"Hi, I'm Brian," said one. He was tall with sandy colored hair – not a bad looking guy at all. Actually, he was a lot younger than the others in this crowd, probably early 20s. 

"Angie," I smiled sweetly. God, I was really piling it on! 

"You guys do a lot of this kind of work, as models I mean?" he asked. 

Time to play the role, I thought to myself. Being 'Angie' for a night, I was beginning to sense more and more, was going to be fun; I was playing a role, being someone I'm not, acting, and tomorrow I would be Anne again. I felt excited inside at the idea of inventing an identity that expired at the end of the evening – a kind of twisted Cinderella thing, I joked to myself. 

"Yeah, a bit, but mostly it's catwalk stuff. I've been in a few department store catalogues too. Last week I did a lingerie show – that was fun." 

"Hmm, plenty of variety in your line of work!" He was being very polite, but I could tell the mention of the lingerie show had an effect on him. You could almost see in his eyes the mental pictures of me scantily clad in sexy gear. I warmed inside at that thought. I moved across to another group. 

"Are you the stripper?" one young guy asked me. He can't have been more than 18, I figured. Probably it was going to be the first stripper he'd seen in his life. Come to think of it, I'd never seen a stripper before, either. 

"No honey, I'm Angie, just an ordinary model. I'm not going to take my clothes off, but can I offer you a drink instead." 

He laughed. 

"Thanks," he said, taking a beer. "I'm Kevin. And this is my buddy, Craig." 

"Hi Craig," I said. 

"Well, if you're not the stripper, she'll have to be pretty hot to top you!" said Craig. He looked like a typical suburban college grad, nice enough, bit of a player. Nice kid. 

We circulated around the room before returning for more drinks. 

"Good work girls," said barman Dave. "Glad you're here – takes the workload off my shoulders, and the hired help doesn't usually look as good as you two! Here you go," he said offering us new trays. I downed the token sole wine glass. "Hey, just so you know, we've got spare rooms you guys can use tonight if you need to. The Law round here are pretty heavy when it comes to drink driving." I nodded a 'thank you', though I didn't think I was that drunk. 

"This is great!" Sarah said as we prepared to do another round of the room. "And there's some hot guys here too – have you noticed?" 

I had noticed, in fact. I'd noticed how they were looking at me, too. Before long the stripper arrived. She saw Sarah and I and came straight over. She had big, flowing blonde hair and huge boobs. 

"Hi guys, I'm Celeste. What are we doing here, a triple act?" 

"No," I said, "we're just the waitresses." 

"OK, fine. I've got another show in an hour so I've got to get set up. Do you know who Roger is?" 

I pointed in his direction and off she went. 

Before long Roger was milling about on the stage with a chair and some ropes. The stripper was fiddling with a portable sound system she'd brought. Then she disappeared as Roger waved to Jeremy to come over. 

"Gentlemen," Roger announced, "and ladies," he added, nodding in the direction of Sarah and myself. "Your attention please. As you're all aware, we're gathered here in this fine establishment to celebrate the final night of freedom for this man, Jeremy, and I think it's only fitting that we prepare him for what lies ahead. Men, secure the prisoner!" 

A cheer rose from the crowded room as four of the guys moved in to restrain the 'prisoner'. They sat Jeremy down and fastened him to the chair, hands tied behind his back. 

"Madam officer," Roger said, looking towards the stripper just off stage. Roger was really hamming it up. "Begin the interrogation!" 

The music kicked in and on she came, dressed as a police woman. She danced around in front of Jeremy for a while, pulling a baton out of her holster which she proceeded to slide into her mouth – to a huge cheer from the guys. Then she tore off her police long pants, revealing her stockings and suspenders and massive high heels. Her ass looked naked, but she was wearing a tiny g-string. She straddled Jeremy for a while, smothering his face in her tits before turning to the crowd to fiddle with the buttons on her shirt. One by one, she unfastened the buttons, gyrating her hips as she did, before letting the short fall to the floor. Then almost immediately she snapped the bra straps and stood there facing the crowd, hands on hips, naked from the waist up. 

I was standing in the crowd with Sarah there alongside. That guy Brian was standing just behind the pair of us. 

"You're hotter than her," Sarah whispered in my ear.

You're both hotter," said Brian behind us, obviously having overheard her. With that I felt his hand on my ass, under my skirt. The room was fairly crowded, so probably no one could see, but I wasn't comfortable with the idea of him feeling me up like that. I gently pushed his hand away. I looked across at Sarah and she seemed transfixed on the stripper's antics, grinning madly. Then I glanced down and saw Brian's hand on her ass. He was rubbing her ass, sliding his hand down between her legs. By the look on her face, she was loving it. 

Soon his other hand returned to my ass. What the heck, I thought, if she's letting him, so will I. And it felt good, his hand gently caressing my bare ass like that. I looked back at him and he too was fixated on the stripper, with a radiant smile on his face. Feeling up a couple of girls' asses while watching a stripper, I guess it doesn't get much better than that for a guy, I thought. 

Soon the stripper had parted company with her g-string – to a huge roar from the guys. She was sexy to watch, her movements, but her tits were too big, too fake, and she was wearing too much make up. But the guys seemed to like it. She climbed up on Jeremy and started grinding her crotch into his face. God, I thought, he's not licking her, is he? 

A bit more of that and the song finished. The show was over. She gave the 'prisoner' a big peck on the lips and grabbed her clothes, blowing a kiss to the guys as she left the stage. Three guys went up and released Jeremy, offering him – more like forcing him – the biggest jug of beer I'd ever seen in my life. He drank about half; the rest of it went all over him. 

The show over with, the crowd dispersed a bit, Brian ceasing his explorations of mine and Sarah's asses. I was almost disappointed he'd taken his hand away. Back to work for Sarah and myself as we headed back to the bar. I was feeling all warm inside, partly due to the alcohol, partly from Brian feeling me up. I glanced down and noticed my nipples were hard under the bikini top. 

"Here you go, girls," said the barman, staring at my nipples. "I think they're probably going to be a little thirsty after that show!" 

Frisky, more like it. The strip show must have really charged up the guys, because now as I walked through the crowd I felt a hand graze along my leg or ass every now and then. I came up to one group of guys and one of them introduced himself, Alan, and put his arm around me like I was an old girlfriend or something. When he shifted a bit I felt his cock rub against my thigh. He had a hard on. When he released me he let his hand slide up and over my breast. 

This kind of thing continued for a while, and looking over at Sarah I could see she was getting the same treatment. But while I was a bit hesitant about it, she was right into it. At one point a guy had his arm around her boob, squeezing it in front of everyone. She didn't seem to mind. 

After a while the gathering began to thin out. The older guys all seemed to have disappeared – back home to their wives, presumably – and it was looking like things were going to be winding up pretty soon. I spied Jeremy at a table off in the corner, a big jug of beer in front of him. He looked very drunk. Evidently, they'd tied him to the chair again. 

I saw Roger saying goodbye to a few other guys, muttering something like 'don't worry about him, he'll be fine', which presumably meant Jeremy. Soon there was just Sarah and myself, Dave the barman, Roger, and five others: Alan, the guy who felt up my tits, Brian, Kevin, Craig and one or two others. The barman started packing up the tables and chairs. 

"Hey," Roger said to me, "we've still got the room for another hour. Do you guys want to hang out for a while?"

"Sure," I said. Our work was done, why not kick back for a while with a few drinks – even though I'd already had quite a few. So had Sarah. Someone had cranked up the jukebox, and she was dancing with Brian. It was a fairly slow number, and he was holding her close, his hands all over her ass. She didn't seem to mind. Her skirt was so short that you could see most of her ass under his hands. He was looking back over her shoulder at the other guys, and they nodded his way approvingly. Soon the dance ended and they came over to the bar, where I was standing with Kevin, Craig and Alan. 




Car Show Slut Ch. 04



"More beer, barman," Brian said. "Hey, I've got an idea. There's a pool table over there going to waste, let's play." 

"Yeah, let's play strip pool!" said Craig. 

"Yeah, that sounds cool!" Sarah said. I looked at her and made a 'no' shape with my mouth. 

"Oh come on Angie," she said, putting emphasis on the 'Angie', be a devil for once – it'll be fun."

When I didn't say anything, Brian chimed in. 

"OK, these are the rules. Everyone gets one shot each go. If you fail to sink a ball, you lose an article of clothing. Shoes don't count." 

"What if you sink the black?" said Alan. 

"Well," said Brian, "if you sink the black, it's everything off in one go!" 

The guys all cheered. 

"Alright, who's first?" he said. "It's usually ladies first, but maybe the guys should go first in this case."

Strip pool wouldn't have been my idea to end the evening, but I thought 'what the hell, why not?' I was feeling pretty cruisy with all the wine I had consumed – and was still consuming – and to be honest all those guys trying to feel me up and leering at me was giving me a very warm feeling inside. Yep, I was up for a game of strip pool. But I'd never even played pool before! 

Kevin went first. He got the shot, returning to hand the pool cue to Craig with a flourishing bow. Craig missed. Everyone cheered. He pulled off his shirt, revealing a nicely toned young chest. Good bod, I thought. Then it was Brian's turn. The balls were all spread around by now, and he made a big shot, firing balls all over the table. Some went in the holes, and then the black followed. 

"You've sunk the black!" Sarah cried. "Get it OFF!" 

He undid his shirt, and pulled down his jeans and boxers. He seemed totally at ease with stripping in front of everyone. All of a sudden he was naked. And what a body! He was like a workman – he was a big guy with big muscles, strong thighs and... his cock was huge! It wasn't hard, but it hung down low. I had the feeling he was half aroused – no dick could be that big. 

Sarah whistled in appreciation as he stood there, naked, putting on a mock little muscle man pose as she cheered him on. How bold was this guy? God, the man was naked in a public bar!

And how hard was his cock getting? He was looking straight at Sarah and myself, and you could see he was getting an erection! I could feel his eyes boring into my chest as he leered at us, his cock continuing to swell. He looked so powerful like that, and yet we were causing it! 

Alan had his turn. He missed. 

"Sir, your shirt please," said Brian. I couldn't help staring at his cock. The other guys were looking elsewhere, at us girls, really, but Brian's cock was pointing almost straight up now. Oh my...

Alan removed his shirt. He was a weedy kind of guy, not built like the others, not that I spent much time looking at him. 

"OK girls, who's first," one of them said. 

"I'll go!" Sarah said. 

She grabbed the cue and walked over to the table. Bending over to take the shot, her ass was totally exposed under that little skirt. The guys didn't fail to notice. 

"That's it baby, go for it," said Kevin. She missed. 

She turned around and shrugged at us. 

"I guess I've got to take something off," she said. "What shall it be?" 

"Take your top off!" they yelled almost in unison. 

"Um, well, alright." 

She slipped the top over her head, and stood with her hands on her hips facing the guys, presenting her naked tits before them.

"Yeah!" said Alan, the others cheering as she sauntered over to grab her drink. 

Now it was my turn. Brian handed me the cue. 

"I've never played this before, you know," I said. 

"Don't worry, it's easy," he said. He led me to the table, naked, his hard cock gently slapping against his abdomen as he walked. I had had a lot to drink, but still the incongruity of the situation – a naked man with a hard on in a room of people showing me how to play pool – wasn't completely lost on me. 

"You just line up the stick on the white ball and carefully aim at another and hit it, so that it goes in the hole. OK?" 

I nodded. As he turned to move away from the table to let me take the shot, I felt the tip of his cock graze against my upper thigh. God, it was leaking precum – I could feel the sticky liquid on my skin. 

I took the shot. I got it. I was relieved, and they all cheered. 

The guys all sunk their balls next time round. Then Sarah missed again. 

"Oh dear, I've done it again!" 

She would have to remove another 'article of clothing'. And all she still had on was two pieces. She didn't ask the guys what she should remove this time, but simply reached under her skirt and slid her g-string down. As she did, she held her skirt up for a second or two, so that the guys all got a look at her bare, shaven pussy. They cheered loudly. She took a bow, then turned her back to them and bowed again, showing off even more. She was acting like such a slut, I thought, but God, she looked so sexy, so powerful. I was almost jealous of her. 

Sarah had left her panties on the floor. Brian grabbed them and wrapped them over his shoulder as a kind of souvenir. 

Now it was my go again. I was nervous now, and I missed the shot. The moment had arrived – I had to lose my bikini top. The realization suddenly hit me – it hadn't seemed quite real before, but now I would have to do it, expose my tits in a room full of guys. I felt a surge of fear through my body, this was farther than I'd ever gone; nice girls don't get naked in a bar full of guys, but I was half way towards doing just that. And I was half way towards liking the idea; indeed, a part of me thrilled at the thought of watching their reaction when I showed them. 

I thought of being Angie. I'm Angie tonight, not Anne. Only Sarah and Roger here know the truth. I saw Roger over at the bar. He wasn't playing but he eyes were fixed on me, waiting to see. Waiting to see what I'd almost shown him when I exposed myself in the back seat of his car. God, he must think I'm such a little slut. They all must think that, dressed like I am, happily playing strip pool with them and about to show them my tits – and probably more the way this game was going. God, was I going to be naked in front of them all soon? Could I really do that? 

"Come on, strip!" said one of them. 

OK. Facing them, I reached around and unclasped my bikini top. They were silent, their eyes fixed on my body, just below my face, expressions of tortured anticipation on their faces. I let the top fall loose around my back, and held it against my boobs with one hand. Then with a flourish I pulled it away from my body, and a thunderous cheer echoed around the half empty room as they ogled my naked tits. It felt great. I even gave them a little wiggle with a shake of my shoulders and they cheered again. 

I went over and sat next to Sarah, two half naked girls together, the guys all looking at us. She gave me a kiss on the cheek. 

"Well done, Angie – that was hot! And you're doing better with me – I'm one shot away from being naked here!" 

Kevin missed his next shot. So did Alan. The both were now down to their boxers. Kevin's erection was obvious. Funnily enough, it almost looked more lewd than the naked Brian – naked except for Sarah's g-string on his arm. Somehow I'd kind of gotten used to his naked hard on. Sarah was up next, and this time she made it. She got to keep her skirt on, for now. 

My turn again. Concentrate, girl, I thought to myself as I lined the shot up, my naked nipple grazing along the wooden edge of the table. I took the shot. I missed. Missed completely – the white ball didn't even hit the other ball. 

I would have to remove my panties. Strangely, this didn't seem as much of a big deal as taking my top off. At least I still had my skirt, and it was longer than Sarah's, so they wouldn't be able to see too much if I was careful. And the thought of being naked under my skirt, and naked on top – ooh, how could I be acting like such a little slut? And, what's more, actually enjoying it. My nipples were hard, and it was quite warm in here. I'm sure they could all tell why my nipples were hard. The sexual energy in the room was palpable – as obvious as Brian's naked cock – and my body was tuning right into it. It wasn't so much that I was losing my inhibitions, but even so I was getting wetter and wetter under my skirt. 

I didn't give them a show like Sarah had; I simply slid them down in modest fashion and quickly smoothed my skirt back down. They cheered in approval, though they wouldn't have seen anything. Brian scooped up my g-string and wrapped it over his other shoulder. 

I went back and sat with Sarah. She was sitting there with her legs slightly apart, and the guys were kind of standing just off to the side but closer to her than before. Clearly they were trying to steal a peek at her pussy, and she looked just about ready to show them. I sat down and slugged my wine glass. How much had I had to drink tonight? I realized I was beginning to slur my words. 

They guys all got their shots this time. Sarah jumped up to take hers, her legs spreading as she planted her feet on the floor to get up. They all got quite an eyeful. I'm sure she did it on purpose. Meanwhile Alan was staring intently at my legs, hoping to see more, knowing that I was naked under the skirt. I almost felt like showing him, stretching back and opening my legs to reveal my now glistening wet pussy, and watch his reaction to that, but it was almost more fun simply knowing that he and everyone else knew that the naked brunette chick here not only was topless, but she wasn't wearing anything under her skirt. 

Sarah took her shot – and she got it. Now it was my turn. Brian came over with the cue, and reached down to where I was sitting to help me out of my chair. As he did, his cock swung down near my face. I almost had to duck so it wouldn't hit my cheek. Up close like that it looked huge, threatening. 

It wasn't going to be an easy shot. There was only one ball left on the table other than the black, and the white one was in the middle. I couldn't reach it.

"I can't do this shot," I said. "It's too far away." 

"Yeah, you can," said Brian, coming over to examine the situation. "You've just got to lean over the table, like this, and reach over so you can get to the white." 

I looked at him demonstrating the shot. I realized that if I did it like that, with my thigh astride the table, all the guys would have a graphic view of my naked pussy and ass. I couldn't do it. 

"But..." They could all understand my dilemma, and they were all attention waiting for me to take the shot. 

"Look, I'll stand behind you so they can't see." 

He moved in behind me. Close. 

"Take hold of the cue, like this. Now, lean over the table." 

I stretched across the table as he instructed, one leg bent so I could rest my inner thigh across the wooden edge of the table. Now he had one arm around me as he helped me set up the shot. 

"Here, like this," he said. He had moved in closer, I could feel his muscular chest pressing against my back as both hands came around my sides. He took hold of my left hand on the cue - and grabbed my right breast with the other! He was holding my boob! He was basically cuddling my back: I could feel his whole body pressed against mine as he maneuvered me into position. He was so much bigger than me; I felt like a little puppet being manipulated by his strong arms. I looked down at his hand on my boob, and then I saw it – his hard cock resting against the wooden edge of the table, poking up between my legs!

"Angie you've got to concentrate, concentrate on the balls. You've got to line the ball up, make it go into the hole. You can do this." 

But I kept looking down at his cock – right there between my legs! I felt him push me against the table as I prepared to take the shot. His cock was up against the table, but as he gave me a gentle thrust forward I watched as it sild up against the polished wood – until the head disappeared under the hem of my skirt. He gave another small push - and I felt the tip of his cock graze against me! God, his cock was right there, touching against my opening – right here in front of every one! And I was so wet – I could feel my lips gently sliding over the head... Oohh, it felt so good; He was holding me there just like that, his cock rubbing on my lips, holding me tightly, anchoring me against the table. I had to get the shot done and get him off me fast! 

"OK, shoot!" he said, and he thrust me forward. As the cue hit the ball, I felt his hips thrust against my small frame – and his cock slide inside me! I panicked, but he was holding me hard against the table, he had such strength! I had taken the shot but he was holding me harder now. Only the head of his cock had penetrated my opening, but then I felt him thrust powerfully – oohh, now he was well inside me; it was so wrong; I had to put one hand on the table to steady myself. I was more than wet enough for him to slide in effortlessly, and I was so ashamed that he could violate me so readily and with the knowledge that even if my head said no my pussy was saying 'yes, do me'. God, this guy was virtually fucking me right in front of everyone! His cock was inside me! I had to stop – now – or he would just keep going! I grabbed the table hard and pushed against him, trying to push him off, but he was so strong – it just drove him deeper inside me! I gasped as I felt it surge inside me, deep inside – ooh, it must have been almost all the way in! I whispered in his ear – I didn't want the others to hear – "Get off, get off me, please!" With one swift movement he pulled straight out, and I felt my muscles contract as suddenly that big shaft had been removed from my pussy. 

"Hey look," he said, "you sunk it!" I was burning with shame. I couldn't even answer. The sight of his cock glistening with my juices – that everyone could see as we walked back to the others – only made it worse. 

"Great shot Angie!" said Kevin. The way he said it, I couldn't tell whether he meant the game or what was going on between my legs. Because they must have seen from where they were sitting. Brian was grinning like a Cheshire cat but I was just utterly embarrassed, red with shame. 

As slumped down in the chair alongside Sarah. 

"God, did he just fuck you?" she said excitedly. 

I didn't say anything but she knew. 

"God Anne, this is making me so wet I almost want to fuck the whole lot of them!" 

I was horny, too, I had to admit as a I downed another glass of wine. God, I was so wet and open when he slid his cock inside me. I bet he was thinking, 'what a dirty little slut I've got here', when he felt how easy it was to penetrate me. The guy virtually fucked me in front of a bunch of people! And it did feel good! What must Roger think? Roger already thinks you're a bit of a slut, and all the others here just know you as Angie. Who cares? But now my head was starting to spin. I wasn't tired, but I was really drunk. I just wanted to lie down somewhere. 

Sarah had gone off to talk to Alan and Kevin. I saw him sit down and pull him on to his lap. She sat on his lap, legs apart as Alan stood in front of her, looking straight at her exposed pussy. She was grinding her ass against Kevin's crotch. It was a sexy sight to behold. Probably like watching me and Brian at the pool table. 

Dave was talking to Roger. It looked like time was up. Then Dave came over to me. 

"You're looking a bit tired there Angie," he said. "There is the spare room down stairs – you're welcome to use it." 

That sounded like a good idea. I let Sarah know I was going to take a rest, and did she want to come with me, but she was otherwise occupied. She was still astride Kevin's lap, but she had fished his cock out of his boxers and was idly running her fingers along it as it stuck up proudly between her legs, the whole time casually chatting with Alan, who was still standing there in front of her. I wondered where that was going to lead as Dave escorted me downstairs to the room. 

I was stumbling a little and had to hold on to him for fear of falling down. I was still topless. I didn't know where the bikini top had gone. My panties were long gone. 

Dave fished the keys out of his pocket and let me into the room. I sat down on the bed. 

"Here, I'll get you a glass of water," he said. 

"No, thanks, I'm fine." 

Then I saw him reach into his pocket, pulling out his wallet. He took out some notes and placed them on the table. 

"Angie," he said, "here's a hundred. How about a little blow job?" 

What? He's propositioning me like I'm a hooker? I wasn't that drunk. He was standing in front of me as I sat on the bed, waiting for me to respond. I couldn't look at him. Instead I dropped my head, looking down at my body. I could hardly recognize myself. I was naked from the waist up. My legs were spread – I hadn't even noticed. He would have been able to see straight up my skirt at my naked pussy. I'm sitting here basically naked in front of him. And he probably saw me with Brian before. No wonder he thinks I'm a whore. 

"Um, I don't... sorry, no thanks." 

He looked perplexed, even surprised. 

"Why not? Come on. You're sitting here half naked, and I saw you spread over the pool table with that guy. You let him fuck you in front of everyone. Come on, I'll throw in the room for free."

I guy wanted to pay me to suck his cock like a common whore. And I was having trouble saying no. Didn't I just say no? Was I Anne or Angie? He knows me only as Angie, and someone like Angie might do it. Standing there in front of me, he seemed to be almost towering over me. His crotch was at my eye level. The bulge in his jeans was unmistakable. For all the shame I felt, my pussy was still burning. The fleeting sensation of Brian's cock inside me, as mortifying as it was for him to do that in front of everyone, had left me just wanting more – and that I was still turned on only redoubled my shame. And I hadn't even closed my legs yet.

"Well?" he said, rubbing his hard cock through his jeans, his eyes on my naked pussy. Why hadn't I closed my legs? 

I looked up meekly. I nodded. I watched him slip the money into my bag. 

"Good," he said, as he unbuckled his belt and unzipped his jeans and pulled them to the floor. His cock sprang out. He didn't even bother taking off his shirt.

He walked towards me, his cock pointing straight out, pointing at my face, bobbing gently in front of him. He let his cock slide along my cheek. I felt its warmth, the soft skin, the hardness, and the wet precum that stuck to my skin. Then he pulled back and aimed it at my mouth. A drop of precum was beginning to ooze its way out of the eye as he held his cock, offering it to me. I opened my mouth and licked the moisture off the tip.

"Umm," he moaned.

I opened my mouth wider. I let him push it in. His cock was warm, thick, almost pulsing. I licked around the underside as he began to slide it in and out ever so gently, gently fucking my mouth with his cock. I felt dirty. Like a hooker. But I was a hooker, wasn't I? – there was the money in my bag. For 100 bucks this old barman is getting to use my mouth with his cock. I felt so ashamed, but at the same time the gentle movement of his cock inside my mouth felt just so mesmerizing. I cupped his fat, hairy balls with one hand, gently squeezing them, imagining the power they held inside. My other hand went between my legs. To my wet pussy. I spread my legs wide as I slid a finger inside.

"Oh yeah," he sighed, "that's it baby, work on that sweet little pussy of yours." 

I felt ashamed that he could see me playing with myself; it shamed me that I was doing it. And yet I wanted him to see. See what a dirty slut I was for him. He's already seen me getting fucked over a pool table. He reached down to roughly grab one of my boobs. With the other he grabbed the back of my head, thrusting it forward into his cock, ramming it deeper into my mouth. His thrusting became more urgent. 




Car Show Slut Ch. 04



"That's it, that's it baby. Ooohh, you're a great little cock sucker, aren't you!" 

A felt a mix of shame and excitement at his words. I was a great little cock sucker. He was virtually fucking my face with his big cock. And soon he was going to cum, he was going to cum in my mouth. And I wanted it. 

"Oohhh, argghh!" he screamed, as I felt the first blast of his cum flood into my mouth. I swallowed hard as I felt the first load hit the top of my throat. I held my tongue under the shaft to feel the force of it pumping, pumping his sperm into my mouth. He groaned as he neared the end, pulling his cock out of my mouth and grabbing it with his hand, jerking himself off so that the final sticky white globs splashed onto my lips and cheek. When he was done I grabbed his cock and slid it back into my mouth, sucking the final drops, sucking him dry. My mouth was full; I had swallowed some, but there was cum everywhere, in my mouth, on my face, on my tits. 

"Oh yeah, Angie, that was good," he said as he pulled up his jeans as he looked down at my cum-covered face. "You're welcome here any time!" 

Then he was gone. I laid back on the bed, exhausted, still trying to believe that what had just happened actually really had happened, the smell of semen all around, my lips and cheek still wet with his cum. And the money he paid me in my purse. 



Car Show Slut Ch. 05



The more I thought about it over the next few days, the naughtier I felt. This could be fun – plain Jane on the outside, naughty Angie on the inside, and only I would know! It reminded me of a meeting we had with a client, a very conservative-looking woman in her mid 30s about a year ago. There was nothing sexual in her dress or actions, she was straight business all the way down the line – and damned good at her job. But I remember noticing one time when she got out of her chair and her suit coat rode up a little bit, there was a little devil tattoo on her lower back. It struck me as very incongruous at the time – I felt that maybe she had had a wild time in her younger days and since then she had grown up, as it were. 

Maybe I could go even wilder and get a raunchy tattoo? No, they're permanent. I bet Mrs Conservative regretted hers now. Then I thought of Kelly. Her clit ring. Actually, I had been thinking about that quite a bit, though mostly in the context of being with her sexually. It was somehow fascinating. And it was just so dammed sexy – so naughty! To have a ring through your hood like that! 

I sat at my desk idly wondering how it would look. How it would feel. I pondered over the dream I had in which I suddenly realized that I myself had a clit ring – a huge one. Well, if I really had one, it wouldn't be like that. It would be much more petite, like Kelly's clit ring. 

Well, it wasn't something that need be permanent like a tattoo – you could take it off when ever you wanted. I wondered... Could I really do something like that? Walking round the office in my dowdy clothes, but with a little ring pierced through my clitoris that no one knew about, that no one in their wildest dreams would have expected – the thought of it gave me a delicious thrill. 

But if one was to do such a thing, where does one get it done? I did not think the local beauty parlors would offer such a service. More like a tattoo and piercing parlor – that's where you would get it done. But you would have to expose yourself totally in front of someone – and it would probably be a guy. And then they would pierce you, pierce you THERE... Well, I thought, it's not as though exposing myself would be something new to me. If I was to get one, I was sure I could handle any embarrassment I might feel. But would it hurt? Yes, it would have to hurt. But then Kelly got hers, and by my reckoning whatever pain she could endure wouldn't be a problem for me. 

But who would perform such a 'service'? I thought of the tattoo stand at the car show. Someone like them would surely offer body piercings. What was their name? Ah yes, I remember, congratulating myself at my excellent memory. It always pays to be across the detail in my job, I thought to myself. Maybe I could ring them up and see if they do clitoris rings? I looked them up. I was right, there they were in the phone book. Should I ring them? Well, it's only a phone call; it's just an anonymous enquiry. It doesn't mean I'm going to do it. I'll call. 

I heard the number ringing and then a man answered. 

"Hello, how can I help?" His voice was rough, gravelly, with a slight southern twang. 

"Um, I'm just wondering whether you do body piercings?" 

"Yeah darlin', what sort are you after?" He sounded just like the biker guy that had given Kelly and I our fake tats at the car show. Probably was him. 

"Um, clitoris."

"Yeah, no problem. Y'don't need to make an appointment, just drop in when ever it suits. We open every day. Close at nine." 

"OK, thank you for that." 

He hung up. 

Well, if I was to do it, at least I now knew where to go. I thought of what Sarah would think of seeing me with a clit ring. She'd probably love it. I thought about ringing her to get her opinion – after all, I hadn't actually spoken to her since Rick's brother's bachelor party. Actually, she'd dare me to do it, that's what she'd say. Why don't I just dare myself? I'll never know how it feels if I don't give it a go. And it isn't a permanent thing – if I didn't like it, I could just take it off and throw it away. 

I was still pondering over all this as I left work that afternoon. Gunning the BMW down the freeway, I noticed the next exit coming up. The exit that would take me down to the suburb where the tattoo parlor was. I switched my indicator and changed lanes, making for the exit. But I hadn't decided to do it. Maybe I could just check the place out a bit first? See what kind of designs of rings they had. No, that would be embarrassing. But more embarrassing than actually doing it? 

Soon I located the shop. It was in a downbeat part of town. By now it was close to sundown, and this wasn't the kind of place to make a girl feel safe after dark. I parked my car around the corner and sat there. Should I do this? I could feel my heart beating hard in my chest. Could I really do this? Did I want to do this? None of the questions I could meet with a definitive answer. You could be here all night like this sitting in the car, I thought to myself. OK, just go in there and have a look. 

I got out of the car. This was a bad neighborhood. I was still in two minds. I really felt like going for a walk around the block to further settle my nerves but I didn't feel safe walking around here. I approached the front of the store. I went inside. There were tattoos all over the walls of the premises. There was no one in the shop except the two guys behind the counter. One was doing something at the cash register; the other was off in the corner stacking boxes. I approached the counter. 

"Hi, can I help you?" God, it was the tattoo guy from the car show! I panicked that he might have recognized me. But then so what? And in any case, how would he ever recognize me – that day was I done up in skimpy gear with a hat and those rose sun glasses on. Now, in my work gear and hair tied up, I could hardly look more different. Nevertheless I felt a sense of trepidation, over and above the actual reason I had gone in there in the first place. I stiffened myself. 

"Um, you do piercings?" 

"Yeah, what sort are you looking for?" It was definitely that guy from the car show. The same toothy grin, rough biker's beard. He was even dressed the same. He eyed me up and down. 

I froze. I couldn't say it. Not with that other guy in the shop. But somehow I couldn't just turn and run like a scared little girl – even though that was my first instinct. It was strange, but there seemed no way I could utter the word 'clitoris' in front of this crusty old biker dude, let alone his work mate who no doubt would have been listening in. I felt the embarrassment and apprehension well up inside. 

"Nipple?" he asked. 

I paused for a moment. I felt paralyzed. All I could do was offer a meek nod. 

"Ok, come this way," he said, leading me into the back of the shop.

God, what had just done? He thinks I want my nipple pierced! I felt almost in a daze, as if tranquilized, as he pulled out a small case with different nipple ring designs. 

"Which would you like?" 

I looked at them. It felt like I'd entered a strange alternate jewelry universe, where instead of looking over lovely bracelets and ear rings, I was choosing a ring that would be inserted into a small hole through the side of my nipple. My nipple! But I wasn't here for that! 

"Sit back in this chair," he said. "How 'bout this one? It's pretty popular." 

It wasn't a ring but rather a small pin. I felt like someone other than myself was directing me; I seemed incapable of making decisions. I looked at the pin, and I nodded. 

"OK, take off your top." 

This was it – I was getting a nipple ring! I slipped off my shirt and undid my bra, so that was naked from the waist up. It felt like I was having a doctor's examination. I sat back in the chair as he reached for the piercing tool. It was not unlike ones I'd seen used for ear rings. 

"Will it be both nipples?"

Both? Oh God, not both! I shook my head. 

"Left or right?" 

Left or right? I had no clue. I hadn't even thought of it. Because 10 minutes ago getting a nipple ring was the farthest thing from my mind! 

"Left," I said, resigned to the fate into which I somehow had allowed myself to fall. I sat back into the chair as he hovered above me. 

"Darlin', I've got to get the nipple hard to do this. This OK?" he said as his thumb and forefinger squeezed around my left nipple. 

I felt embarrassed, a failure. I'm letting him pierce my nipple because I didn't have the courage to say the word clitoris! Ooh, but his fingers squeezing my nipple felt good... He kept up at it for about 30 seconds and stopped. His face was close up to my breast now. Oh God, I saw him snake his tongue out of his mouth and felt it flick my nipple! I almost couldn't believe it. 

"Y'don't mind, do ya? It's not erect enough yet." 

"OK." I almost whispered. 

"Good," he said as his mouth wrapped around my nipple. I could feel he rough beard around the soft flesh of my breast. I sank further back into the chair, submitting to his attentions – which went on for the best part of a minute. All the while I felt the blood rushing to my loins, my nipple stiffening under his surprisingly expert ministrations. God, for such a crusty old guy he knew what to do with his mouth and tongue. I felt my breath quicken as I surrendered to the feelings, pushing the shame and humiliation I felt out of my mind. God, instinctively I wanted to reach down and touch myself. The old guy was making me horny! How humiliating! I couldn't stop myself from giving out a stifled moan, at which point he glanced up at me, his mouth still wrapped around my nipple. He was smiling. 

"Mmmm, darlin', I think you're about ready," he said. "This'll hurt some, but it will be over in a few seconds. Suggest you hang on tight the sides of the chair."

I couldn't watch the procedure. But I felt the cold implement pressing against my nipple, and then I felt it tighten, like it was gripped in a tiny vice. 

"OK, here we go," he said. "Be done in one second." 

Then I felt a sharp sting as the steel cut through my flesh. God, that hurt! I felt the implement being removed and a cloth placed on my nipple. Then he inserted the pin. 

"There, done. That wasn't so bad, was it?" 

"Um, it's OK," I mumbled, the pain of the piercing having woken me out of my daze. I looked down at my still exposed breast. There it was. I pin sticking out either side of my left nipple! I had a pierced nipple! It looked almost monstrous. It still hurt, but the dull ache somehow seemed to resonate with the throb of my pussy. 

"Looks good," he said as I got up to get dressed. 

"Thanks," I said, for want of anything else to say. 

He watched me as I put my bra back on. Somehow I didn't feel self conscious. Well, how could I, after what he'd just done to me? 

"Hey darlin'," he said. "Y'all didn't come here 'specially for the nipple pin, did ya?" 

"Um, er, what do you mean?" 

"Your voice, I reckonized it – you rang before about a clit ring, didn't ya?" 

I felt the shame well inside me. I didn't know what to say. I just looked at the floor. To admit that I had been the caller would expose my ridiculousness. I couldn't say it. 

"Well, why don't you just get it done now?" he said. "I mean, that's why you've come, isn't it?" 

I couldn't look at him. My stupidity had been exposed. I felt like running out the door, but that would be even more childish. And he'd be off after me if I did that, because I still hadn't paid for the nipple ring. 

"Come on," he said, pulling a sheet of a strange looking piece of furniture that was half table, half chair, "it will hardly take any longer than the nipple ring. Just take your skirt and panties off and climb into this chair. It'll be done in no time." 

I stood there looking at the floor as I did up the last button on my blouse. A clit ring was indeed the reason I had come here. And he knew it, even if I walked out of here right now. Just get it over with, have it done, I said to myself. 

I reached down and unfastened my skirt, letting it fall and grabbing it as I stepped out of it. Oh, God, I had forgotten I was wearing the SEX panties... He didn't say anything but he was looking at me, looking at my crotch. I noticed him raise an eyebrow, seemingly in approval of my unexpected underwear. Then I peeled off the g-string, standing there in my modest heels, my blouse, but exposed from the waist down. How strange that it felt almost more embarrassing that this old guy saw me in the SEX g-string than completely naked. 

"Ok, just slide up here," he said. The chair was flat, with a slightly raised back section. It was wide, but with a v-shaped cut out at one end. Where my legs were. 

"Comfy?" he asked. "OK darlin', just spread your legs there for me." 

I was almost beyond the point of shame. Again, the situation had an element to it of a doctor's surgery, but a very bizarre one at that. Now he was standing between my outstretched legs. There was a leather strap he was fiddling with on the side of the chair. I saw him wrap it around my left thigh. I panicked. 

"What are you doing!"

"Relax sweetheart. It's just to restrain you while I do the piercing. It will hurt a bit, and I need you to keep still, otherwise you might get pierced in the wrong spot, if you know what I mean. Just relax," he said as he pulled the strap right against my skin, just above my knee. Then he turned and restrained my other leg in the same way. 

"Should I strap your arms as well?" he asked. 

My arms? Er no. Why should you strap my arms?" 

"Oh, no reason, just some girls prefer it that way," he said with a sly chuckle. 

My arms remained free, but even like this I felt like a butterfly pinned on a board, as if on exhibit in a museum. 

He grabbed a chair and moved to between my legs. God, this was like a nightmare gynecologist appointment. He was sitting between my spread legs, peering straight at my opened pussy which, shamefully as I tried not to concede to myself, but knew it to be true, was wet. I felt his hand cradle my pussy. It felt warm. So too did his hot breath on my inner thighs. Now he was rubbing me, rubbing my clit. I thought I heard him mutter the word 'nice'. I could feel myself getting wetter. I knew that my wetness would be on his fingers. He would know! 

"Darlin' gotta get you ready for this," he said, as I felt his hot breath against my wet opening. "You don't mind, do you?" he said. Then I felt his tongue slide up my slit, the stubble of his beard brushing along my outer lips. Did I mind? I couldn't move. It wasn't as though I could stop him. The odl guy was licking me! Oohh, and it felt good...

When I failed to give an answer - for I feared what that answer would be - he took it as a green light to continue. I felt his tongue gently running along both outer lips, occasionally lapping up and down my slit. As ugly and detestable as he was, he knew what he was doing; he knew his way around a woman. I moaned as the sensations of his touch swept across my body. I couldn't help myself, even thought it humiliated me so that such a rough old biker guy was licking me, and doing it so that he could pierce my clitoris, and doing it with my full consent, and making me hot at the same time. He was licking me and I was loving it, my legs were spread for him and I was wet like some cheap biker's whore. 

Then he stopped. I looked down my body at him. He was grinning up at me. His beard was wet. Wet with my juices. I was burning with shame. 

"Darlin', think we're ready now." 

He reached for the piercing tool. I couldn't see much from where I was, but I could see it was a different implement from the one he used on my nipples. But God, this old biker guy was about to pierce my clitoris! Strangely as the realization hit me that this was it, now it was going to happen, I didn't panic. Partly, I had to admit to my shame that I was too turned on, and partly it was the sense of helplessness I felt. I was strapped to the table. I could do nothing. And I had agreed to this. And now it was going to happen. 

I knew my clit was engorged. Full of blood and ripe for picking, as it were. The word play even gave me cause to smile inside. But I wasn't laughing for long as I felt the cold steel touch against my delicate, sensitive skin. This was it. 

"Baby, here we go. Brace yourself, darlin'." 

Sharp pain shot through my body. It was a sensation more excruciating than anything I could ever remember. I cried out but managed to stifle it. There was a heavy throb in my lions, but soon the overpowering ache morphed into a kind of enormous itch. It was only then that I realized it – he had stuck his finger inside me! He was gently sliding the tip of his finger in and out of me, and I felt myself gripping it as the sensations began to build, so that the itch became more intense, searing, yet less painful. He quickened his pace and went deeper, deeper... Oohhh.... And then he stopped. I felt deflated. The pain began to return. I couldn't see what he was doing, but he was fumbling with something. I looked down and saw it. His cock. He had pulled down his jeans and was maneuvering himself so that his cock pointed at my wet pussy. Oh God, he's going to fuck me! 

I saw him grab his cock and line the tip up against my slit. My wet opening. I felt it touch my skin, the head pushing against my lips. I felt my hips almost involuntarily shifting, straining down towards his cock, inviting it in. And yet I couldn't move my hips strapped to the table as I was. He was toying with his cock at my entrance, looking down at it, almost entranced by the sight. I watched in horror, my body betraying me as the need within me grew, as my pussy ached to be filled. No! Don't let this happen! Then he looked up at me. 

"Darlin', this might help ease the pain. Do you want me to? Do you want me to fuck you? Have to get permission 'fore I do – company policy, y' understand," he said with an evil sounding chuckle. 

Then he slid it in, maybe only a quarter of an inch, and stopped. His cock was thick. Even like that, I felt stretched as my lips opened willingly to accommodate the invader's width. Oh no, he was doing it! But ooh, it felt just right, the perfect counter to the pain in my clit and my nipple. My whole body seemed to throb but I could no longer tell whether it was pain or something else. Then with a sudden movement he pulled out of me. Oooh...

I felt my muscles sharply contract against thin air as his big cock was removed from my entrance. Oh God, I wanted it back inside me! 

I was panting, almost writhing on the table; the blood in my head seemed almost as if it was boiling. 

"Well, do ya want it?" he asked, waving his cock at me from between my legs. 

I didn't want it. But I needed it. He was standing there looking at me, his cock glistening with moisture. My juices. It looked so vulgar, that big fat cock pointing up at me, ready to perform. I just had to say the word. 

"Well?" 

"Yes." There it was. I had said it. I had crossed the line. I had agreed to let this dirty old tattooed man have his pleasure with me. And I wanted it. I wanted him to take me, fuck me, degrade me, use me like a dirty whore. 

"You want me to fuck you?" 

His words struck deep into the sense of humiliation that pervaded my being. Yes you fucking bastard. Fuck me like a little slut! 

"Fuck me. Fuck me please!" 

"Good girl," he said as he slid down a little, maneuvering himself at entrance. I strained down so I could see it, visual confirmation of my shame as this man, this ugly old guy whose name I didn't even now, was about to shove his big cock inside my wet, craving pussy. 

I stiffened as I felt him plunge inside me. Oohh, yes! He slid in all the way, then pulled back out and rammed straight back inside. Oooh! I clamped down on his thick shaft as it probed my inner being, and I felt his body slump across mine as he reached across to grab my shoulders, so as to anchor himself as he began to hammer away at me. He did not kiss me, but rested his head against my neck as he fucked me harder still. I could feel his rough beard rubbing against the skin of my neck. I could smell his foul body odor. He smelled of stale beer and cigarettes. 




Car Show Slut Ch. 05



My legs pinned against the table, the weight of his body on mine, I felt totally powerless, a prisoner and a plaything for his pleasure. He was taking me as he pleased, I had agreed to it, and there was nothing I could do about it. I felt violated. His hips raised up as he began to thrust inside me with an awful aggression. He was grunting now, I could smell the sweat pouring out of his tattooed skin as banged away at me, I could feel the sheer power in his body as kept on pounding inside me with hard, violent thrusts. 

Oohh, no one had even taken me like that! And violated me so deeply! The pain hadn't gone away, but I could no longer distinguish between the pain from the piercings and the fire in my pussy. It was all just one giant itch. I felt like I was going to cum! 

With my arms free I grabbed his face and kissed him. He kissed me back. His breath was foul but it only heightened the sensations, as if it were the culmination of my humiliation and degradation. He was grunting like a savage beast now, and I quickly realized he was about to cum! 

"Don't cum inside me! Please, don't!" 

I had at least enough presence of mind to remember that I was no longer on the pill. God, I could get pregnant to a biker! 

Then I felt him pull out of me. I almost felt crestfallen, but he was about to cum. He climbed up in the table and straddled my chest as he began to feverishly jerk his big cock. His big gnarled hand worked up and down on his slick shaft, and then his head flung back. This was it. 

"Darlin," he grunted, "I'm gonna cum on your pretty face!" 

I watched in part fascination, part horror as his hand stopped and squeezed his shaft tightly, as the first eruption of semen fired out of the tip of his cock. I watched it land on my blouse, but then he lunged forward so that the next spasm splashed across my face, my cheeks, my lips. My mouth was open, I almost didn't realize I was moaning as I watched him cum, and I felt his seed land onto my lips and across my tongue. As his eruption subsided he leaned forward and shoved his cock in my opened mouth. I didn't stop him. With my tongue nestled under his shaft I felt the final pulses of his orgasm as he emptied the last of his load straight into my mouth. I kept sucking his thick shaft as the spasms and his grunting eased. 

I slumped back on the chair as he climbed off me and hitched up his jeans. Untying my legs, he offered me a tissue to clean his cum off my face. 

"I'll just let you get dressed, darlin'" he said. "I'll see you at the counter." 

I pulled on my skirt and panties in almost robotic style, my senses enveloped in some kind of sexual fog. I felt almost groggy. Like this wasn't real. Fully dressed, I went back out into the shop. Mercifully, the other guy didn't seem to be there any more. 

The fat old biker that had just fucked me and ejaculated his sperm all over my face was at the counter writing out the invoice. God, I've still got to pay him for the piercings. 

"That'll be two hundred, darlin'," he said. "Any problems with the piercings, you come back and we'll fix it up." 

I handed him the money. I even thanked him. Then I noticed him staring at my blouse. He reached across to rub his finger on my collar.

"Here babe, there's still a bit of cum on your pretty shirt," he said, presenting his cum-covered finger to my face. My God, could it get any more embarrassing? He moved his finger up to my lips, pressing against them. I could feel the sticky wetness of the cum on his finger. 

"There's a good girl," he said, as he gently pushed his finger against my lips. I felt my mouth open. I saw him watching me as I let his finger slide inside my lips. I licked the cum off with my tongue and he withdrew his finger. 

I grabbed my bag and turned to leave. I walked straight out the door. There was a dull ache in my pussy and my pierced nipple. I felt I would almost burst into tears. I climbed into my BMW and locked the doors. The smell of stale beer and sweat seemed to pervade my skin. The salty taste of his cum in my mouth. My hand reached inside my skirt to feel the clit ring. There it was, this grotesque intrusion, the skin around it tender, sore, still throbbing.



Car Show Slut Ch. 06



I can hardly remember the drive home. I must have been operating on some kind of autopilot. My mind was in a daze, barely comprehending what had just happened. I showered and went to bed. 

In the morning everything seemed normal. Apart from the ache in my left nipple and nether regions. I could barely bring myself to look at my piercings in the mirror as I changed to get ready for work. I felt like taking a day off, I just wanted to curl up in bed with the curtains draw and retreat from life for a day, retreat almost from myself, but there was too much going on in the office. 

Actually I was thankful for the fact that we were busy, but even then, at any idle moment during the day my mind drifted towards the awful events of last night. What on earth had I been thinking? What possessed me? To allow that old biker dude to pierce my nipple, when I'd gone there for no such thing? All because I didn't have the guts to look him in the eye and say the word 'clitoris'! I had sat there like a helpless child while he pierced my nipple! And, oh God, that was just the tip of the iceberg! 

He fucked me! And I let him! But what could I do? I was strapped to the table. Oh no, it wasn't like that. He said, 'do you want me to fuck you', and I said 'yes'! And he did it! Well, why wouldn't he? What's more, he could see I was wet. He knew it, and he knew that I knew. Lying there, legs open, exposed, wet, ready to be fucked. That was how it was. What was I thinking? And even when he did it, when he rammed that big cock inside me, I just lay there accepting it. I didn't protest, didn't do anything. But I had said 'yes'. And I didn't even know his name – I still don't! The pungent smell of his body, the stench of beer and cigarettes, all of that came flooding back as I agonized over my shameful actions. How unbelievably horrible to be taken like that by a stinking old tattoo artist! He had tricked me. But that didn't mean I had to say yes. I said yes and, what's more, I meant it. As painful as it was to admit, I wanted it. I wanted him to fuck me. And even worse, it wasn't horrible. He didn't make me cum; mainly, I realized, because I was too worried that he would cum inside me and get me pregnant – oh God, pregnant carrying a fat old tattooist's baby! He didn't bring me to orgasm, but he had fucked me and fucked me hard. He had taken me like a slut, as if I was his plaything, and fucked me like an animal, a bitch in heat. It's not as though I hadn't been with my share of men, but I'd never experienced anything so hedonistic – the way he grunted like a beast, fucking me hard and then, after he had sprayed his seed all over my face, and even in my mouth, just climbed off me and walked away. After he had speared my most private regions not just with his cock, but also his handiwork, with the grotesque ring and pin in my clit and nipple that now nestled under my silky underwear, hidden from view but which were a constant reminder to me of what had happened. Kelly was right, it did hurt, but it was a dull ache, bearable, though always there. 

Oh, but even that wasn't the end of it. I had licked the cum off his finger! I was paying the man for the piercings, and he wiped a glob of cum off my blouse and made me lick it off! How disgusting! But did he really force me? He was pushing his finger into my mouth! I remember feeling his sticky cum coating onto my lips, the pressure of his finger, almost forcing my lips apart, the cold, steely look in his eye as he waited to see what I was going to do. But that look in his eye wasn't one of waiting for me to make up my mind; it was like an implicit instruction to do it. And I did it, I opened my mouth and sucked in his cum. And then he said, 'there's a good girl'... No, he hadn't forced me, had he? I could have just stepped back – for God's sake, he was standing on the other side of the counter; all I needed to do was step back. But no, I let my lips open and took his finger into my mouth... No, he didn't force me. He didn't force me to do anything. Everything that happened to me, I either asked for, or I wanted it. Yes, I wanted him to fuck me. And yes, it was good. It was more than good. 

Paradoxically, I suddenly realized, it was my very act of submission that made it what it was, allowed me to let go, to let him take me, possess me. For that's what it was – he owned me. I was his slut plaything. He was like a troll in a fairytale, and I was like a princess, captured by him like a glittering prize and dragged into his stinking cave to be consumed. 

No one, I had to admit, had taken me like that before. My body even tingled at the thought of how good is big cock felt; the physical memory of him fucking me remained in my body, real and powerful. But then, how long had it been since I had had sex at all? Well, there had been Kelly, but that was sex with a girl. It had been months and months since I had had been with a man. That had been my previous boyfriend. But sex with him I could almost hardly remember. Our sexual compatibility, or lack thereof, had always bothered me, although we had gone our separate ways for reasons other than that. A steady boyfriend was what I needed, I thought to myself. Or maybe just a casual fling. No wonder I had enjoyed being taken by the old guy – I'm a woman in her prime and it had been too long! 

That thought lifted me out of my despair. A boyfriend. That's what I need in my life. It was high time I started dating again. I decided to run a search of internet dating websites. I nice lawyer or executive, perhaps? I knew I was a 'good catch', as they say. It wasn't an arrogant conceit to know that I was attractive. And I'm well off and have a job with an income few women my age could dream of. And I've got a pierced clit, I joked to myself, almost laughing inside at the absurdity of it. That made me feel better. Life needn't be so serious all the time. You had sex with the tattoo guy – so what? It'll be something to, well, maybe not something to tell your grandchildren, but something to remember when you're old and past your time – a life well lived. I was feeling better already. 

I spent a few hours at home that night on the internet. Among the hundreds of guys on the dating site, there seemed quite a few prospects. One guy, Julian, looked particularly good. Nice tall blond, just like I like them, 30 years old, a junior partner at a legal firm in town. Interests include cycling, jogging, meeting new people, reading, candle lit dinners etc.... Mmm, like the sound of that one. I forwarded him my profile. He must have been on line, because he responded within 10 minutes. Seeing the little message icon flash to show I had mail gave me a little thrill. Gee, I was enjoying this! 

We messaged each other a few times with some mindless flirty banter, and soon enough he offered me his phone number. I rang him. 

"Is that Julian?"

"Yes, you must be Anne."

"Yes, it is. Hi. I feel a little funny doing this; it's my first time with this internet thing." 

"Yeah, it can take a while to get used to it, but everyone's doing it now." 

We chatted for a short while. He seemed nice enough, and I liked the sound of his voice. Yes, I thought to myself, he does seem nice. We agreed to meet for a drink that Thursday night. I hung up, feeling much better about things. This was it – get backing into the dating scene. This was what had been missing from my life. 

I skipped through the next few work days with renewed vigor. The episode with the tattoo man, though less than a week ago, seemed thankfully to be receding rapidly into the past as I looked forward to a pleasant evening in the company of Julian.

In a sense this was a blind date, which was something I had never done before. As a precautionary measure I decided to let Kelly know what was going on. After all, I didn't know this man. What if he turned out to be an axe murderer or rapist? And I had to admit, recalling the experience with Jem, my antennae when it comes to men doesn't seem to be all that well attuned. I would give Kelly all the details that I had of him, and where we were meeting, in the unlikely event that something untoward was to happen. 

On Thursday I arranged to lunch with Kelly. It was a lovely day, and I took a table in the outside area. I sat down and scanned the morning papers as I waited for her. Soon I saw her coming out of the building as she spotted my table. 

Hiya sexy!" she said as she strolled past the table alongside as she made her way towards me. God, anyone could have heard her! 

Kel, keep it down!" I whispered, almost under my breath. "Someone might hear!"

"Oh just relax Anne. No one's going to suspect anything if a girl greets another girl with 'hi sexy'. But with you being so jumpy like that, they might." 

"Yeah, I guess you're right." 

And she was. For such a young girl she seemed so much more worldly than me. I could be so uptight at times. And as for being sexy, I was nothing compared with her. God, she looked so hot in that short light blue skirt suit. I'd have reached across to kiss her, were we in private. 

"Kel, I'm going on a date with a guy I met on the internet." 

"Ooh, sounds exciting! Do tell." 

"Well, who knows? I haven't even met the guy yet. We're meeting after work for a drink, but I just want you to know the details, you know, in case he turns out to be something unexpected. Know what I mean?" 

"Yeah, but I'm sure it'll be fine." 

"More than likely, but this is just in case." 

I gave her all the info I had, on him, where we were meeting etc. We chatted for a while over lunch before it was time to get back to work. I watched her saunter off back into the building, watching in surreptitious fascination the gentle, sensual sway of her hips in that tight-fitting short skirt. 

I was pleased that I could get off work at a reasonable hour so as to shower and properly make myself up for my date. Stepping out of the shower, having freshly shaved my pussy – I was finding it could get so itchy if you let it grow back even a little – I checked myself in the mirror. My body looked good. The peircings looked, well, good wasn't the word, but sexy, wild, daring. I liked that. The clit ring just seemed so... such a vulgar and shocking accessory to be wearing. And somehow I like that too. Best of all, the pain had virtually gone away. I was getting used to them now. I still found myself becoming aware of them during the day, but more and more they were becoming a part of me. 

For my outfit I decided to go for broke – the short skirt and black boots, with a simple dark blouse and jacket top. Stylish, sexy, if bordering on 'come fuck me'. Well, I wasn't at work now, and this wasn't anything more revealing than most girls wear. Even so, I grabbed a long coat to go over the top for when I was out on the street. 

Meeting a guy I had only once spoken to on the phone, and in the context of a possible romance, I had to admit carried with it a certain thrill. I imagined myself as the heroine in a classic film noir, sitting alone in a smoky bar awaiting an interview with an impeccably dressed and ice-cool Bogart. Yes, this was going to be fun...

I arrived at the appointed time. He said he would ring my cell when he got there, and we'd locate each other by that means. We each must have arrived at about the same time, because I had barely stepped through the bar when the phone rang. 

"Hello, Anne speaking." 

"Hi, it's Julian." 

I turned around and saw him over in the other corner. We waved at each other and he headed my way. Mmm, he was a very good looking guy.

"Hi Anne, pleased to meet you," he said, studying my body very intently as I slipped off my coat to reveal my short skirt and boots. Well, I couldn't blame him, I guess. He was definitely cute. Tall, well built, with a nice round smile and soft, kind blue eyes. His suit was smart, nothing special, but not flashy either. All round, I liked his presence. 

He ordered drinks and we chatted for a while about the joys and otherwise of modern professional life, and how tough it is to meet people when you're so busy. On this point I had to embellish a little, because it wasn't as though I'd actually been looking for a partner at all in ages. But then, more and more as the conversation continued, I found I didn't need to embellish anything because, I began to notice, I could hardly get a word in. I wouldn't say that he seemed nervous and thus couldn't shut up, nor did he seem that kind of guy who's so full of himself that he feel the need to tell the world about himself non-stop all night, but Julian certainly knew how to talk about Julian. It's fun for a while to listen to someone talk about their life, but I found myself getting progressively more bored as the evening and his endless monologues dragged on about his work, sporting achievements, funny things that had happened to him, bla, bla, bla. He seemed almost uninterested in anything I had to say, interrupting me with a tale of his own whenever I began to speak on some topic or another. I sat there watching him during one of his spiels, and it occurred to me that yes, he was a very good looking guy, really rather sexy. Physically he was just my type; I could seriously imagine making love to this guy, at least in a theoretical sense. I actually seriously thought about asking him back to my place, but I realized that part of the motivation for that would have simply have been to shut him up. That wasn't a good enough reason. Because the reality was that, as attractive as he was, and as much in needed of physical comfort as I was, the man was just simply boring me to sleep. 

After a while it was simply getting too much, so I decided to put an end to it – but even then I had to butt in just to tell him I was leaving! He seemed surprised when I told him I had had a lovely time but was tired, and seeing it was a work night I best be off home. God, what is it with some guys? If he had simply sat there and at least let me get a word in even for a short while, like normal people do, just let me into the conversation for God's sake, he could easily have had me in his bed later that night. If only he had known. As it was, I went home rather annoyed with him, and with little interest in seeing him again at all. 

Well, plenty more fish in the sea, I thought to myself. No need to be discouraged if the first one didn't work out. 

The weekend was wonderful, a welcome respite. Saturday I threw myself into cleaning the apartment, ending the day with a lovely risotto and a night on the couch watching a dvd. Sunday I joined Wendy and Roger for a picnic in the country. It was a lovely day. They had brought along her young nephew, Steven, a nice young kid, and it was just great to relax in the woods with some great food, a bottle of wine and some great company. They had set a date for their wedding, Wendy told me. I was very pleased for them. They did make a good couple. But my shameful actions of the recent past exposing myself to Roger still haunted me. I felt awful about it. What had I been thinking? I mean, the episode over the pool table in the bar, well that was just something that happened. But exposing myself to Roger in the car while Wendy dozed off in the front seat? Nothing short of shameful. A disgrace. I wanted to talk to Roger about it, and as Wendy took young Steven off to play in the swings, I seized the moment. 

"Rog, I want to apologize for my recent behavior," I said. He looked worried. 

"The things I have done lately, it was shameful and unacceptable, and I'm very sorry about it. But those little episodes, I want you to know that that's not me, I guess it was just a stage I was going through. Anyway, I'm really sorry about it."

"Hey, it's OK," he said, his voice tender. "Really, don't worry about it. I guess everyone does a few wild things in their lives - I know I have - so there's no harm done." 

"Thanks. Since you're getting married, I guess I can't really expect you not to tell Wendy about it, but I'll leave that up to you. If it hurts my friendship with her, then I've only got myself to blame."

"I'm not going to tell her," he said. "I love her, but she can be very possessive, and I don't think she'd take it well at all. I just think, what's done is done, what's past is past, and there's no real reason she ever needs to know about it. So as far as I'm concerned, it never happened." 

"Thanks Rog, let's just put the past behind us." 

I felt so much better. Like an ugly chapter in my life had been closed. 

A new day and a new week dawned. Monday morning and the sun was shinning, the birds were singing in the trees outside. Time for my morning yoga, which I had been neglecting somewhat over the past few days. I grabbed my mat and went out onto the patio. I was naked. I liked doing yoga in the nude now, and part of the reason I hadn't been doing it lately was because I had been self conscious of my piercings. But now they felt a part of me and, in any case, it wasn't as though I was doing yoga nude to expose myself. As usual, there were few people about at this time of the morning, and certainly no one in a position to spy on my naked form. 

Another hot day, I decided to wear one of my shorter outfits, though certainly not with the slightly sheer blouse this time. I looked in the mirror. Yes, I looked good. A bit sexy, yet only in an incidental way. There was nothing overt in the way I was dressed, and no reason for anyone to think of me in that way. I reached down and rubbed the clit ring through my clothing. You could actually feel it under the skirt and panties, and I had noticed myself doing this almost without thinking on more than one occasion – not when anyone was around, of course. But it gave me a thrill to know that under my proper exterior it was there, this so slutty piece of jewelry, along with the pin in my left nipple. It's funny how I was even more aware of the nipple pin than the clit ring. It was odd also, it occurred to me as I arrived at work and stepped out of the BMW, that I was as conscious of the unpierced nipple as I was of the pierced one. I realized as I walked toward the office how it almost made me feel slightly out of balance. Kind of like when your hands aren't quite properly aligned in certain yoga poses. Very odd. 

Monday was a fairly light day. There was some fine tuning to be done on the washing powder job before Brad, Pete and myself presented it to Luca. I had also been given a couple of new clients, both of which were promising in terms of the potential size of the business they might agree to with us, but these were not on deadline at all. I had time to do a bit of research and come up with something creative. I thought about getting Brad and Pete in on this one, but then I thought better of it. Actually, Kelly would be better than both of them; I wonder if I can help her move up the corporate ladder a little? She's wasted downstairs where she is now. 

Late in the afternoon at my desk as I poured over the new accounts, I found my hand straying down between my legs to feel the ring through my clothing. It was like returning to an itch, even though you knew that every time you scratched it, it just made it itchier. Well, maybe not an itch, because it wasn't a matter of arousal; it just felt good to feel it. I was glad I got these piercings. The way they felt, they way they made me feel, was even better than I had hoped. 

I thought about my piercings on the drive home. How the fact that my right nipple remained unpierced - a 'virgin', as I now liked to laughingly think of it, as opposed to the left one, and the surprising fact that having just one pierced nipple did make my body feel somehow out of alignment. What if I got the right one done as well? I had the sense that I would feel somehow complete, balanced. Either that or take the left one out. But I liked the way it felt now. Every now and then it would kind of get caught against the fabric of my bra, giving the nipple the gentlest of tweaks. And that felt so delightfully naughty! 




Car Show Slut Ch. 06



Maybe I could just go down there now and get the right one done? The thought sent a kind of tingle through me. It would mean I would have to face the tattoo biker again. That would be embarrassing. But in truth, I did want to get it done. And it was like what Roger said, what's past is past. It would be a bit embarrassing to go there again, absolutely, but the nipple piercing last time didn't take long, so I could be in and out in a jiffy. Then I would have it, the job would be complete, and after a few days the pain would have worn away. Maybe I could even buy a few different design rings and pins while I was there? Yes, I could accessorize! What a thought, I laughed to myself. 

The exit that led to the tattoo parlor was approaching as I sped down the freeway. Could I go back there now? Should I? Why not? Be decisive. I took the exit. 

Straight in, get it done, then straight out, I told myself as I parked the car. At least this time it wasn't yet nightfall, so I felt a lot safer stepping out of the car than I had the first time. This really wasn't a good neighborhood, but at least with the late afternoon sun having not yet disappeared behind the buildings, the normal commercial activity of the day was still in evidence. I opened the door and went inside. 

The old guy looked up from the counter as I closed the door behind me. He recognized me instantly. For a moment we looked into each other's eyes as I approached the counter. His expression was different from what I remembered. It was like he was looking straight through me. It was the look of a man who had 'known' me, the only man to have done so in quite a while, in fact. He looked somehow different. Still disgusting, but in a different way. His eyes had a sinister steel to them. He seemed to almost exude power. I felt uneasy. I felt embarrassed with him looking at me like that. Somewhere deep inside I was starting to sense that this hadn't been such a great idea. 

"Well, hello darlin'," came the gruff voice. "What can we do ya for? Problem with the piercings?" 

"No, no problem," I said. "I just want to get the other nipple done."

"Alright," he said, a hint of enthusiasm in his voice. "Step this way." 

I followed him into the back of the shop. 

"Them others still hurtin'? Pain shoulda gone away by now." 

"Yes, they're fine now." 

"OK, good, just gimme a minute while I set up." 

The smell of beer and male sweat pervaded this shambles of a room. He'd obviously been drinking, although he seemed pretty coherent to me. I was alone in the room while he fiddled with his equipment on the other side of a partition. Soon he was back. 

"So how they look, the piercings?" 

"They're fine," I said calmly, but inside I was nervous, embarrassed. I would have preferred he say nothing that alluded to our previous encounter, but rather just get on with the job and get it done. 

Then he walked over to me. He was standing directly in front me. I could smell his breath, the beer, the tobacco. He looked me up and down. 

"OK darlin', let's get you out of that pretty shirt and get this done," he said, as he reached across, his fingers fiddling with the buttons on my blouse. My God, he was undressing me! I froze, as much in surprise as in fear or embarrassment, as he went down the row, one button after the other, until the front of my blouse was completely opened. Then he slid it off my shoulders. I felt the roughness of his palms as they slid down my arms, sending a shiver down my spine. A voice inside rang alarm bells that I shouldn't be letting him take my blouse off, that I should be doing it myself, but my conscious mind rationalized the situation: what does it matter – you've got to take it off anyway. 

I stood there in my skirt, heels and bra. He reached around my waist and unclasped the bra in one deft movement, and removed it. Now I was naked from the waist up. His eyes bored into my breasts, studying them. Then he ran his finger along the underside of the pierced nipple, his hand dropping down to linger on the underside of my breast. 

"Mmm, nice," he said, but I couldn't be sure if he was referring to my breast, his piercing job or both. For such a disgusting old guy his touch was amazingly delicate. I could feel my nipples hardening under the gentle caress of his finger still on the underside of my breast. I felt I should put a stop to his attentions so we could get on with it, but I had to admit his finger felt just so good. I would let him linger just that little bit longer. 

My nipples were getting hard. Well, it needed to get hard for him to do the piercing, didn't it? I felt myself starting to relax under his touch. My nipples were responding, but so too my pussy was beginning to throb. God, he knew exactly what to do! Then he moved to my other breast, kneading it with his big hand, tugging the nipple. I heard him moan under his breath. It sounded more like the snarl of some wild animal. I watched as his tongue snaked out and flicked the nipple. Oooh... He slid his tongue around and around it, then engulfed it with his mouth, his beard scratching against my soft skin just like it had felt the other day. I was getting lost in the sensations – ooh, I wished he would just stop and get on with the piercing! It was embarrassing, this was not how it was meant to go. He was making me wet; God, he was making me so hot, and I felt almost powerless to stop him! 

Then he did stop. He walked over to the table where he done my clit ring and pulled off a drab-colored sheet that was covering it. 

"Darlin', why don't we use the table for this one? Might be more comfortable." 

The table? How would it be more comfortable? I was beyond the point of arguing. Table, chair, what does it matter? I felt his hand go round my hip as he led me towards the table. 

"Darlin', why don't you slip out of that pretty skirt and panties? Wouldn't ya be more comfortable like that?" 

I should have been expecting something like that. I'd just let him take off my blouse and bra, and the last time I was here I had let him fuck me. I should have known where this was heading. This had not been a good idea at all. 

"Come on," he said, encouraging me towards the front of the table. I can only think that my conscious mind can not have been operating at full capacity, impeded perhaps by the stirring in my loins. Because my nipples were almost aching from the attention they were now no longer receiving, and my pussy, well, I was wet again. I let him guide me to the table, the table on which he had pierced my clitoris. The table he had used to fuck me. 

I felt his big hand round my ass, felt his fingers fumbling at the back of my skirt. Suddenly I felt the material go loose around my waist. He was unzipping my skirt! I looked down, surprised at myself at my calmness, almost as if detached from my own being, and watched my skirt fall to the floor. Almost as an instinctive automatic reaction, I stepped out of the skirt that was now pooled around my feet. Then I felt his rough hands around my waist, fingers sliding under the elastic. God, he was pulling my panties down! He was now squatting on the floor, in front of me, sliding my g-string over my hips and down my legs. I didn't stop him. Why didn't I stop him? And again, when it was all the way down to my feet, I lifted one foot, and then the other, so he could pull the tiny underwear free. God, I had actually helped him do it! 

"Good girl," he said, his gravelly voice seemingly searing through my ears, my brain registering and even accepting his compliment as I stood there naked for him. Any sense of power over my own actions I had somehow seemed to be draining away from me. I seemed unable to act, but only to react to what he was doing. Then, standing up, he grabbed hold of me and lifted my body off the ground. I felt tiny in his big, rough hands. The muscles on his tattooed arm were bulging. He was strong. He laid me down on the table. 

I felt him strap my thighs just as he had done before. The familiarity of the leather straps across my legs was somehow almost comforting. Strapped down to the table, naked except for my heels, there was no longer any question of who was in control. 

"Your arms too?" he said. 

My arms? He's asking whether I want my arms strapped as well! Some of the girls like it that way, I remember him chuckling last time. Strap my arms? I almost felt like I deserved it. For being so weak. I didn't even answer his question. I just lay there silently as he pulled my arms back over my head, and a felt the leather being pulled tight around them. Strapped to the table, naked, like a cheap slut. 

"OK, let's get this done," I heard him say. He was down between my legs still. I glanced down my body, across my naked chest, nipples pointing to the ceiling, legs spread wide. He was crouched down, looking straight into my pussy. 

"Hmm, good job," I heard him say as he feasted his eyes on my most intimate parts, my pussy, that he had taken for his own on this very table only days ago. "Very, very nice."

I could feel his hot breath on my inner thighs. Then I felt his tongue around my outer lips, warm, wet, soft... Ooh... No, please don't! But the words only reverberated around my brain. The only sound that escaped my mouth was a soft moan as his tongue slithered its way up to my clit. I felt the warm wet tip of his tongue slide around my clit ring, the ring that he had given me. I could feel the ring as his tongue gently nudged it, his hot breath against my wet lips. Then his tongue slid all the way up my slit, roughly, now invading my inner lips. Ohh.. My body convulsed, my legs shaking, straining hard against the straps. 

Then I heard a noise from out in the shop. Footsteps! There was someone else here! Someone was coming into the room! 

"Hey Joe, do you know where... Oh, sorry!" 

It was the other guy who worked there! He was standing in the doorway! 

"Oh, Larry, glad you're here," said the tattoo man, who I now knew was named Joe, glancing up from my pussy to address the younger man. I wanted to disappear under the earth. I shut my eyes. I wanted to cry. Here I am, strapped to a table, naked, legs spread, a man going down on me, and another man has come into the room and can see me with this old tattoo guy like this! 

"No, don't go, you stick around," he continued. "Get over here, boy," he said as he stood up and walked to the front of the table. 

"Now Larry, this young lady here has come to get her nipple pierced. Now as you still learnin' this trade, this might be a good time for a bit of on-the-job trainin'. Now, for doin' this, we need to get the nipple hard. Now, 'course we could turn the air-con up a mite, that'd do it, but as you can see the lady here is all nekkid – liable to catch her death of cold. Now how else y'all think we could achieve this?"

Lying there, strapped to the table, naked as the two men stood over me, discussing my body, my nipples, like a couple of doctors about to operate on a patient, and staring at my exposed, wet pussy, I felt I would literally die of shame. I struggled to hold back the tears. I closed my eyes, clenching them shut. This was such deep humiliation right to the core of my being, in a way I never knew could be possible. 

"Er, well, you could get them hard with your fingers," said the man named Larry. 

"Yep, that'd work," said Joe. "Why don't you give that a try?" 

Then I felt a thumb and forefinger clamp around my nipple, twisting it back and forth. He was rough. He kept at it for what seemed like about half a minute before I heard Joe speak. 

"Good job. You're learnin' well. Now, can you think of any other ways to do this?" 

"You could eat her pussy," I heard Larry say. 

"That's right, you could. Let's see what skills you got in that area." 

I heard his footsteps as he went around to the foot of the table. Then I felt his tongue. Oh no, this man is going to lick me! And he did! I felt his tongue lap roughly all the way up my slit, then again and again, like a dog licking its dinner bowl clean. He was rough, like his hands had been on my nipple, almost punishing. But even then I felt my body respond. He was rough, too rough, but my body tuned right into the treatment, just as my mind wanted to take flight and disappear from this ordeal. 

Then I heard an alarm ringing out in the shop. It was the phone. 

"Larry, you better get that. Oh, and Larry, your assistance here won't be required no longer, neither. Un'erstand?" 

"Right boss," Larry replied, as I heard him leaving the room. 

"Now, where were we darlin'?" said Joe. He was back at the foot of the table now. "I think you just about ready. Might just give you a bit more tongue lovin' just to make sure." 

I felt relieved that Larry had gone, and that he'd told not to return. Relieved? But now I was here alone with Joe! And no doubt, before this is all over, he's going to fuck me again! No! It's not going to happen! I will stop him. But I'm strapped to the table. I can't move - literally. He could do anything – ANYTHING – to me, and I would be completely powerless to do a thing about it. What if I tried to put up a fight? He could hit me and I could do nothing to stop him. What if I screamed? Fat chance that Larry would do anything to help. They'd probably just tape up my mouth – and there was a big roll of tape sitting just there amongst the clutter on the side table – and then they'd probably both fuck me! 

Oh but his tongue felt so good! God, it was just like the last time; he was a master at pleasing a woman! I just lay there and let him do it, but what else could I do? Ooh, his mouth clamped wide around my whole pussy, his tongue diving inside me. I found my mind conjuring the shocking image of him tearing at my pussy with his teeth, like a wolf, ripping my flesh, but in reality he was not hurting me at all, just gently engulfing me with his mouth, his tongue invading my opening. Oohh yess! 

Then he stopped. 

"Hmm, that's one tasty little pussy ya got there, darlin'," he said as he got to his feet. His face was drenched. With my juices. "Think you're about ready now." 

He walked over and picked up the piercing tool and the small steel pin that would soon be stuck through the hole he would make through the side of my nipple. I looked down my body. My chest was heaving. My heart was beating fast. My body had felt a painful loss when he stopped licking me; he had set me on fire. He'd taken me close to the point of orgasm and now he had stopped. It was depraved, but I longed now for the moment when he would pierce my flesh, hurt me, penetrate me. I needed to feel that unbearably exquisite pain wash through me again. He had the tool in his hand as he walked around to the foot of the table. 

Trembling in anticipation, I strained against the straps on my arms and legs. The leather was burning into my skin. I pushed harder, hard so it hurt. It was like scratching an itch. He was between my legs again, reaching up my torso to my remaining 'virgin' nipple. He held my breast, feeling its firmness, tweaking the already rock-hard nipple between his fingers. Then his fingers clamped down on the nipple, clamped down hard! Ohh, there was such force in his grasp I thought he would tear my skin apart! 

"Yeess!" I heard myself scream shamelessly as the pain shot through my body. I wished to God that he hadn't heard me, so that I could conceal my desire, my shame. But he knew. My eyes flashed open and there he was hovering above me, with that wicked grin on his face and those evil dark eyes. He looked like he would be capable of anything. 

"Hey darlin', never done it like this 'fore, but since you seem to be likin' it so much, do you mind if I just slide this ol' dick inside ya while I'm doin' the job? Might make the pain a bit easier to cope with." 

'This ol' dick' – it was almost funny to hear him say such a thing, but then I felt that dick probing my opening. He'd already taken his jeans off and now he was running his cock up and down my slit, just like he'd done last time. Only this time I was wide open, so wet I must have surely been soaking the table. Whatever my mind thought was the right thing to do, my body and my pussy were totally consumed by desire. My body felt like it existed only to be filled with his cock; that was its purpose, and my lips were straining open, craving the arrival of that big shaft. There seemed no way around it; he was going to fuck me. How did it get to this? I only came here to get a quick nipple piercing. Now look what has happened - he's going to fuck me again! 

He's going to fuck me and pierce my nipple at the same time! That is what is going to happen! I shut my eyes again. My conscious mind could barely reconcile what was happening to me. 

"Now darlin' I don't want to do it this way if y'd prefer I dn't," I heard him suddenly say. "Would you like me to fuck you while I do the piercing?" 

He was forcing me to say it. Right then I needed his big cock, needed it penetrating me, ravaging me, as much as I had ever needed anything before. I looked up into his cold steely eyes. His biker's beard, that evil missing teeth grin, his foul breath. I hated him for doing this to me. He had made me his prisoner, his plaything. He'd let his employee toy with my body like I was a two dollar whore. And now he was taunting me, asking me to beg him to fuck me. 

"Fuck OFF!" I screamed into his face, hardly knowing from where inside it had come from. 

He almost stepped back in surprise at my sudden fury. Then he smiled and bent down so that his face was barely inches from mine. He was breathing heavily, just like I was. His breath was disgusting. 

"Aw, come on darlin', don't be like that." 

Then he leaned in and kissed me. The foul taste of beer and cigarettes was almost overpowering as I felt his tongue invade my mouth. There was nothing tender in his kiss, unlike the way he had lovingly licked my pussy, it was pure aggression, as though he was raping my mouth and I could not stop him. And I couldn't – I tried to turn away but his big hands were holding my head fast as he ravaged my mouth with his. Soon I began to respond – I kissed him back, whether out of desire or anger, or a mixture of both, I do not know, but it made me feel like I had betrayed myself – even more than I already had. My lips found his tongue and I sucked it hard before his mouth overpowered me and the assault began once more. And then he stopped, lifting his head away from mine. 

I felt his hand on my pussy. He was toying with my slit with his fingers. Then I felt two fingers slide inside. Oh God, I was so wet. They slid straight inside me; there was almost no resistance. He grinned at me as his fingers invaded my wet opening. I felt so ashamed. 

I closed my eyes. With two fingers gently rocking back and fourth inside me, I felt his thumb resting on my clitoris, on the ring, flicking it, playing with it. The two fingers went deeper, allowing his thumb a better access. Then he began to squeeze the hood of my clitoris across the clit ring, forcing his thumb and fingers together with some force. Ooh, I had felt nothing like that before! He was holding me with such force that, were I not restrained, I felt he'd have been able to lift my body off the ground through my three fingers holding my pussy and clit. His fingers continued to slide slowly, up and down, up and down.... OOOhhh...

"Are you sure you wouldn't like a big cock inside you while I pierce your nipple?" he whispered into my ear, his fingers still gently probing me, in, out, in out. I felt defeated. I felt I would cry but I tried to hold back the tears, desperate not to give him the satisfaction. Yes, I wanted his cock. I wanted to feel it inside while he ripped my nipple apart. Fuck me, penetrate me, hurt me. Oh yes, I wanted the fucking bastard to do it. 




Car Show Slut Ch. 06



"Don't you want me?" he said. There was a mock tenderness to his voice. 

"Yes," I said, almost relieved to have said it. 

"Fuck me," I spat at him. "Just fucking do it!"

Alrrright darlin'! Let's get this show on the road!" 

He jumped up and grabbed the piercing tool. Now he was naked from the waist down. I could see his big cock slapping against his body as he prepared to mount me. The consent had been given, and I wanted it, but even then it was such a surreal sensation to be strapped to a table, unable to move my arms or legs, unable to participate in the act of sex beyond simply lying there and accepting a big cock thrust up inside me. But even that notion sent a thrill to my loins; this was not rape, but I was being used as a fuck toy in an utter and complete sense. That's all and everything I was. Devoid of any responsibility or control.

He lined himself up at my opening. He paused as the round tip of his cock rested against my opened wet lips. For a moment I feared he was going to make me beg him again, but then I felt it plunge inside. The head went in an inch or so and, presumably satisfied that his little slut was ready for him, he plunged inside me, hard, deep, all the way, with one big, angry thrust. It was as though my body relaxed and tensed at the same time as I felt his heavy body lay across mine. Such satisfaction to feel his cock inside! Filling me, stretching me just right; a part of me almost felt a sense of relief. It was all the way inside me. I could feel his big hairy balls resting against my bare pussy. Oohh...

He didn't move. Good – I didn't want him to. Ooh, I just wanted to feel that huge shaft inside, just so. But he wasn't remaining still on my account. He was getting ready to do the piercing. 

How utterly depraved, how shameful, my brain registered of the predicament I had managed to get myself into. I'm getting my nipple pierced, and the awful tattoo artist is going to fuck me while he does it! Not GOING to fuck me – his cock is already inside me, I remonstrated with myself – he is fucking me! 

But then I felt him pull out. Ohh, it almost hurt, the sense of loss my body, my senses, experienced as the big cock slid out of me, the head now resting against my lips, tantalizingly. He held it like that as he grabbed hold of my right breast. I felt the piercing tool clamp around the nipple. I watched the concentration on his face as he lined it up. He was still breathing heavily. 

I watched the tattoos on his arm twitch as his biceps muscle flexed while he clamped down on the tool, and the sharp pain shot through me. Ohh, but it felt good! My eyes and mouth flung open and I moaned loudly, almost screaming. I couldn't help it. He threw the tool onto the bench and took the nipple pin out of his mouth, in which he had been holding it as he lay across my body. I felt it slide into the newly cut hole. My body throbbed with pain, but the sensation was more like an enormous, almost excruciating itch now. The job done, he wiped my freshly pierced nipple with his shirt. 

Then he plunged his cock back inside me. 

Ooohh! Such exquisite agony! The centre of my being seemed as if a kind of triangle formed between my two nipples and my pussy, the throbbing sensations seemingly ricocheting off the three points. He was thrusting in and out of me now. I was even wetter than before; it was as though I was so open I almost couldn't even feel his big cock that was ramming in and out of me, and yet somehow it, and the pain, was all I was conscious of. He picked up his pace, fucking me harder, with such violence! His fat body was slumped across mine now, and I felt that familiar rub of his beard against my neck as he banged away, the rank smell of his sweat. I could feel my orgasm building as his relentless attack continued. I closed my eyes. Images began appearing behind my eyelids – balls of fire across a black sky burning like giant constellations. My heart felt like it would burst; the intensity of the throbbing through my body increased, just as the intervals slowed. I strained against the leather straps, the pain morphing with the throb, one giant, unbearable itch. My lower back strained hard to meet his thrusts, to take him inside me further. Each time I pushed my ass up and off the table it was slammed back down as he thrust into me once more – more pain as the skin on my lower back rubbed hard on the wooden surface. 

My mind seemed to fuse. Time seemed to stop – I no longer knew how long he had been fucking me; it might have only been a few minutes, or it might have been half an hour. I was cumming. Oohh, that beautiful release washed through me as still his cock pounded and pounded inside me, there was no let up; I felt as though I was flooding his cock, engulfing it in a sea of my juices, as every muscle of my body tensed and then let go. 

I was lost in the moment. I felt a flash of blinding white light sear across my closed eyes, and felt my heart almost explode as I gave in to the sensations, the feelings. My arms strained against the leather. I wanted to wrap my arms around him, hold him. But I couldn't. For at that moment, somehow, somewhere deep inside, I loved him. 

Then it ended – he pulled his cock from me. It was as though if something had been ripped from me. Almost distraught, I looked down my body and saw the tip of his cock as the cum began to fly out. I felt its sticky warmth as rope after rope splashed across me, as Joe grunted and growled in ecstasy, his hand working his cock hard until his load was emptied. My mind had been jolted back to reality, enough for me to realize that, thank God, he had remembered not to cum inside me! 

He was now standing alongside me. 

"Well look at that," he said. "Cream pie!" 

I wasn't sure what he was talking about. Then I looked down and saw that my clit ring and the surrounding skin was covered in his cum. The top if the ring was visible but the rest was a little sea of white liquid. I watched him as he went over to a side bench. When he turned around he had a camera in his hand. I panicked – he was going to take a picture of me! Like this! I started to cry. 

"No, you can't! Please, please don't do this!" I sobbed. 

The expression on his face suddenly softened as he recognized my distress. 

"Hey, darlin', it's OK. Don't you worry none. I'm only going to take a picture of your sweet little pussy - as a keepsake. That's all. 

"Darlin', I might be rough as a badger's ass, but I ain't no bad man. No one will reckonize you, I promise. What happens in this here place don't leave this place. You be surprised the importan' folk who come here for a tat or piercing; darlin', you be very surprised. I wouldn't use this against you none, nor no one else who comes here. An' ya don't have to worry none 'bout young Larry out there. If I ever finds him even talkin' about any goin's on here, I'll kick his ass - 'n he knows it."

I didn't say anything; I was beyond arguing. I watched him as he took the picture, a single shot of my pussy. He seemed as good as his word. Then Joe wiped the cum from my body, undid the straps on my arms and legs and helped me up. I felt almost dizzy. My body felt like it had been subjected to a marathon gym workout; tired, spent, but totally satisfied. There were big red marks on my legs from the straps. The skin on my lower back hurt. There was a pain from my freshly pierced nipple. My legs were weak; I felt unsteady it when I took the few steps to where my clothing lay on the floor. 

Joe had left the room while I got dressed. I took a few moments to compose myself. My body felt weak. My mind felt as if in a fog, but coherent enough to acknowledge the fact that this old tattoo artist had just made me experience what was by far the most intense orgasm of my life. There was something new in how I felt; almost like I had lost my virginity. My body was weary, but my all senses seemed somehow to tingle. I felt ALIVE in a way I had never felt before. 

I made my way back into the main part of the shop. Thankfully, Larry had gone. I stood at the counter as Joe fiddled with some papers. He handed me a sheet. It was a printout of the picture he had taken of my pussy. 

"Darlin' you keep this one, if you want it." 

"Thanks," I said, not knowing what else to say. I looked at the picture briefly before slipping it into my handbag. Pornography was not really my thing, but to see his sperm coating my clit ring like that, literally swamping it, I had to admit that it was a sexy sight in such a shocking, graphic kind of way. And he was right, there was no possibility that anyone would recognize me, no matter who saw it. 

"That nipple hurtin'?" he said.

"Yes," I said, "but it's OK."

"Just open your shirt a mite, I can do something to help it."

Not again, a voice inside me said. But from somewhere else inside, there was another voice. A voice that said, yes, open your blouse for him. This is the man who pierced your body, the man who just gave you more pleasure than any man ever had before. The man who possessed you as his own, like no one ever had before.

"Don't worry, the shop is closed. No one can see."

I looked at my watch. It was 10pm. God, how long had we been in there? It must have been four hours!

I undid my blouse for him. I reached around and unclasped my bra, allowing my two pierced nipples to spring free in front of his gaze.

"Your tits are perfect, darlin'," he said. I swelled with pride at his complement. The he leaned across and kissed the newly pierced nipple. Oh, the skin was still very tender. He ran his tongue around it gently a few times as I began to relax. Yes, it was so surprising that such a rough man could have such a soft, perfect touch. Then he reached under the counter and grabbed a tube of cream of some sort. He squeezed some cream onto his fingers and rubbed it ever so gently into the nipple. It dulled the pain; it felt very soothing.

"Want me to the other one, too?" 

"Yes," I smiled up at him. And he did, but not before taking my left nipple into his mouth and sucking on it. My body tingled under his touch, and I decided I really ought to get going before my arousal was completely woken. 

"Leave your bra off till you get home – that will help," he said. 

I stuff the bra into my bag and did up my blouse. I was about to leave when I realized I hadn't yet paid the man. 

"Joe," I said, realizing as the word escaped my lips that this was the first time I had spoken his name, "what do I owe you for the piercing?" 

"Darlin', that piercing is on the house. No charge. It was my pleasure, and if you ever need anythin', another piercing or tat, or you need anything else, you know where I am." 

"Thank you, I'll remember that," I said as I turned to leave. He had to open the front door to let me out. It was dark outside. 

"Listen," he said. "It aint safe for a girl round here this time of night. Lemme me walk you to your car." 

"OK," I said. I was glad of that – I certainly didn't like this part of town after dark. 

We got to my car. I leaned up and kissed him on the lips. He kissed me back. Not aggressively, like he had when he had fucked me on the table, but softly, with such tenderness that could hardly seemed possible from such a gruff looking individual. I wrapped my arms around him and kissed him harder. I felt safe in his arms. Then I broke off the kiss and said goodnight, climbing inside the BMW. I saw him wave as I drove off into the night. 

Come back any time I "need anythin'", he'd said to me. Perhaps a tattoo might be in order after all, I mused to myself as I cranked up the BMW's sound system while I waited at a red light. Maybe not. It was a lovely clear night. I opened the sunroof and marveled at the canopy of stars overhead. The lights flashed green. I hit the gas pedal and sped off. 



Car Show Slut Ch. 07



The pain in my freshly pierced right nipple didn't last long. A few days later, it felt no different from the left one. And it did feel good. And I felt good, too, basking in the afterglow of the experience still several days later. I felt none of the guilt that had plagued me after my first visit to Joe's tattoo and piercing parlor. Well, that was a bit of an understatement. I did still feel deeply disturbed over what had happened, although at least I wasn't experiencing the depths of despair which I had after my first 'visit'. I kind of accepted it, accepted that yes, I had enjoyed it, and there was nothing intrinsically wrong with that. So what if I enjoyed it? The fact was that I did enjoy it. End of story. 

How could I feel shame after how he had made me feel? He had, in the words of that old Linda Rondstadt song that I found my mind offering up as a kind of soundtrack for the morning, 'really worked me over good', and was indeed 'a credit to his gender', rough diamond that he is. The trouble now was that every time I drove home I would have to go past that exit that would take me down to Joe's shop, and I often had to fight the temptation not to take that road. It was an open opportunity on any afternoon to take myself to a place where I could be taken like a woman ought to be taken. All I had to do was take the exit. 

But I held firm, luxuriating instead in the memory of that mind-blowing experience as a one-off. I had never entertained fantasies of bondage, but really that was what occurred; he had taken me as a kind of prisoner and I had secretly loved it. I loved the relinquishing of control, the abdication of all power over my destiny, to have some man do what ever he wanted. And that was the problem here – such fantasies are dangerous, but in Joe I could, should I wish, act them out in what I perceived to be a perfectly safe environment. I just wasn't sure I wanted to go down that road, as much of a turn on as it was. No, I wouldn't go back there again. 

A week had passed since then. In the meantime I had settled back into my routine. I hadn't given up the idea of trying to get back into the dating scene, the episode with Julian hadn't put me of, but for the moment my priority was work. Things were steady in the office. I had those new clients to develop, and that was taking up most of my time. I sat at my desk going over the documentation, and at reflective moments finding myself occasionally rubbing my new nipple piercing, as if to check that it really had been done. I had been right about feeling 'balanced' – with both nipples done it just felt, well, exactly as I thought it would. And the notion that here I was, prim and proper on the outside in my expensive business suit, but such a slut on the inside, yes, it did give me a certain thrill. All the people in my working life that came in contact with me – who of them would know? 

Actually, it did occur to me, there were some who knew. Looking in my diary I realized that next week I was scheduled to have a meeting with the firm where that guy Ron works, the guy who had felt me up at the beach. I wasn't looking forward to that. I imagined myself sitting in the meeting, knowing that his colleagues probably knew that he had felt up the young executive from the marketing company their firm employs. But then I remembered that Ron was married with kids, I had seen them at the beach, so Ron was hardly likely to be broadcasting our little interlude around the world. But then, I thought, so what? Who cares? People get together with people. People have affairs; and I am single. It's none of anyone's business anyway. 

At the end of the day I decided to go for a swim. I was getting into swimming more and more – a great physical activity that really toned up the body and didn't leave you feeling like you'd been hit by a train, which was how I sometimes felt after an extended gym workout with my personal trainer. 

The cool water felt exhilarating as I dived into the pool – just the thing after another hot day and eight hours in the office. The pool was fairly crowded, so I had to share my lane with others, which I didn't really like doing, and I noticed in the lane next to me was that girl with the short black hair again, that I'd seen the last time I went swimming. God, she must come here all the time. And by the look of the way she swam, that was probably true – she was so much faster than me, and with such a masterful stroke compared with my uncoordinated flailing of arms and legs. Watching her glide past from under my goggles, she moved through the water with such grace and beauty, so little splashing and the water licking up behind her feet as she kicked, and with her lovely slender body – God, I wished I could swim like that. 

I only made it through 20 laps before I was done and headed for the showers. As I dried myself, I noticed her again, that girl with the short black hair, come into the locker rooms. She came up near to where I was changing, which evidently was close to her own locker. She saw me as she opened her locker and smiled. I smiled back in recognition – it was clear she remembered me from last time. I certainly hadn't forgotten her. 

"Hi," she said. That silken voice again. 

"Hi," I responded. She was still in her swimmers. I was naked, still drying off. She was looking at my body. Such big, striking dark eyes. 

"Hey, nice piercings," she said. "Are they new?" 

"Yeah, just got them done the other day." 

I felt slightly embarrassed to be discussing my piercings so publicly, let alone the fact that she was opening looking at them. I realized then that she was the first person to have yet seen them. I felt rather self conscious, exposed. 

"They look great!" she smiled, staring at my tits. I had the towel covering my waist – she hadn't seen the clit ring yet. "Did it hurt?" 

"Yeah, it did, but the pain goes away after a few days." 

"I was actually thinking about getting one done myself," she said. "So how do they feel now?" she added, still staring at my breasts. "Does you feel different?" 

"Yes," I said, still feeling a little uncomfortable, but rather thrilled at the same time that this sexy young woman had opened a conversation with me. She was being a bit forward on the questioning front, I thought; I wondered whether or not she might be, you know, interested... 

"They feel good," I said. 

She smiled as she pulled her arm free of her one-piece swimming costume. She rolled it down, her beautifully pert breasts spring free, down her body and off her hips. She was now naked in front of me. She had a fantastic figure – the body of a swimmer. 

"I was actually thinking of getting a clit ring," she said with a little giggle as I watched the towel slide around the curves of her body as she dried herself. 

Well, I thought to myself, that's exactly what I've got. I'd been modestly trying to hide it from her view, God knows why, but I reasoned she's going to see it anyway. So show her. 

I moved the towel away to expose my pussy. 

"Like this?" I said, almost sheepishly. 

Her dark eyes widened as they gazed upon my clitoris. She stood there staring. She almost seemed embarrassed for a moment, and I certainly did feel painfully embarrassed as she looked at me, but then the apprehension washed away and I suddenly felt bold, proud of my body and the fact that I had gone and done something as wild as get a clit ring – wilder than what this young girl had done, and she seemed to be a pretty 'out there' and groovy young thing. And why not show it off? Why not show it off to someone who is thinking of doing the same? Someone as sexy as this girl? 

"Wow!" she said. "That's sexy." 

I felt a little tingle inside at her comment. 

"Thank you," I said, inwardly thrilled at the compliment. 

Neither of us said anything for the next few moments as she got dressed into her jeans and tee. I couldn't help but watch her. I was trying to be discreet, but I wasn't doing a great job – I was pretty sure she was aware that she was being observed. She didn't seem to mind. She really did look good. 

I was dressed now and pretty much ready to go. I was fumbling with my bag; something inside me wanted to prolong this little exchange. It was just like the last time I saw her here; there was something about her that I found intriguing, exciting. I couldn't quite bring myself to leave just yet. 

"You must come here a lot," I said as I stood up, preparing to leave, but stalling for time. 

"Yeah, I used to be on the regional swim team, but I gave it away – too much hard slog on cold mornings. It's still great, though, you know, as a regular exercise." 

"Yeah I know," I said. "It's impact free; unlike the gym, it doesn't leave you in need of a massage afterwards." 

She laughed. 

"Well, I better be going," I said. "Might see you here again some time." 

I started to walk off. 

"Hey," she said, and I stopped in my tracks. 

"You fancy going for a drink somewhere?" 

My body tingled. Oh, yes! She's asking me out for a drink – maybe she really 'that' way! 

"Yes, why not?" 

"There's a little music club just around the corner." 

"Sounds good – let's go." 

"Oh, by the way, I'm Paola," she said, offering her my hand. 

"Anne, pleased to meet you." 

We shook hands, looking into each other's eyes as we formally greeted. She had a captivating face with those big, piercing eyes, and our handshake lingered for just that little bit longer than what would be considered normal public etiquette. I felt a thrilling rush through my veins as the nerve endings in my skin registered the unfamiliar warmth of her palm in mine. 

"Ready?" she asked. I nodded. "Let's go." 

The club was literally around the corner, probably not 100 yards away. I'd never actually noticed it before. It was a little bar, full of young people, and there was a band playing in the corner. Not my type of music, but maybe the sort of experimental stuff I might have gone to see 10 years ago. They had a girl singer and a guitar player, and a guy operating some kind of computer. Their sound was wild and almost free form, and on the verge of being too loud. 

I grabbed a seat while Paola went off to the bar to get drinks. She moved through the crowd almost with the stealth of a cat, in her faded jeans and black t-shirt. There was something androgynous about her, hard to define, but something I found very, very attractive. 

I looked around the room. This was a young crowd. I felt overdressed in my work gear, but then a noticed a few young guys in suits; really, it was quite an eclectic mix. Rather avant garde. Anyone could fit in here. 

"Here you go," she said as she put the drinks down and slid into the circular shaped booth alongside me. 

"Cheers." 

Our glasses clinked and I took a big sip. 

"So, what do you do, Paola?" After I said it, it felt like a boring thing to say in such a cool, groovy young establishment. One ought to be discussing music or art in a place like this. But sitting there in my work gear I didn't feel young and groovy. 

"I'm a student. And I've got an exam tomorrow. I'm probably going to have to make it a fairly early night, unfortunately – I haven't studied at all!" 

I felt a pang of disappointment. God, yes, there it was - I did want to sleep with her...

"Yeah," I said. "I remember those days – last minute cramming!" 

I talked about my job, but it felt boring to do so. God, why do people straight away ask someone they don't know what they do for a living? Like I just did... It's really the last thing anyone wants to talk about in a social situation. I steered the conversation onto swimming, and quizzed her about how she could be so fast for what seemed like such little effort. She gave me a few pointers to improve my stroke. 

"But really Anne, I saw you swimming – you're not bad." 

"Well thanks, but I've got nothing on you – the way you just glide through the water so effortlessly. I don't know how you do it; you just look so good!" 

There was a double meaning to that which I hadn't intended; it had just come out that way. She smiled. I looked into her face and recognized that look – the look you might get from a guy who's eyeing you off. A look that is saying, 'I'd love to fuck you'. Either that, or she was just a terrible flirt. 

"Hey, but tell me," she said. Her hand was on my thigh. "How does it feel to have those piercings? I bet it's a real turn on!" 

"Well, weird at first," I said, taking another big swig of my wine. Her hand was still on my thigh. "It hurt, and it hurt for a while afterwards, but now they feel great." 

"Do you feel different now? Does it feel sexy?" 

"Yes," I said. "It does feel sexy." 

"Does it feel different with them having sex?" 

I felt flushed. She seemed to have come in closer now. Yes, she was closer. I could feel her lower leg rubbing against mine. Her hand had moved up my thigh a little. I could feel her fingers resting on the hem of my skirt under the table. 

"Yes, it does feel different. It feels good!" 

We both giggled. 

"I like it here," she said. Under the table her fingers gently dropped around onto my inner thigh, touching my other leg as I held my legs firmly together.

"It's nice to come here after a swim, and sometimes they have some cool bands on." 

Our idle chat had nothing to do with the conversation that was going on between us physically. There was no doubt she was making advances on me, and for my part I had done nothing to stop or discourage her. She was coming onto me literally just like a man might. And it was working; the blood was rushing to my loins. I could feel my nipples swelling. We were in public, but what was going on under the table was hidden from view. Her touch was sending signals straight to my pussy. I could feel myself almost beginning to pant.

I knew that if I let my legs fall open even a little bit, she would take it as a green light, a sign to continue. That she would know for sure that I wanted it. But how far did I want this to continue? Here in public? Truth was that I wanted to turn and kiss those big full lips of hers. I almost ached for it. I felt her fingers slide under skirt – she was pushing my skirt back towards my hips! 

And I wanted more. Even here in public. I let my legs fall open. If she didn't already know, she definitely knew now: that I liked girls. Her fingers drifted further up my inner thigh. So delicious...

Oh God, her fingers were roaming right up my thigh... I turned to look at her and smiled, just as I felt finger rub against my pussy. She smiled back. We both knew. 

Then my cell phone rang. The tone interrupted the mood, and I chose to answer it. It was Sarah. 

"Hi Sarah, haven't heard from you for a while." 

"Yeah, sorry, I've actually been a bit ill the past few weeks, but better now. Hey, where are you, I can hardly hear you with all that noise."

"I'm in a bar." 

"Oh yeah? What's the company like? Is he hot?" 

"It's a she," I said, "I'm here with a friend." I saw Paola look up at me when she heard the reference to herself. 

"Well, is she hot?" 

"Sarah, you really are terrible!" 

"Yeah, I know, but is she?" 

"Well, yes," I said, looking straight at Paola. Somehow that gave me a little thrill. I secretly fantasized that she knew what I meant. 

"Is she 'just a friend', or something else?" 

God, that girl really is impossible! 

I was getting a bit frustrated with Sarah and her taunts. It was just like the time over the phone with the plumbers – I felt like she had me in a little game that I could only lose. Damn it, I thought, I can either hang up, or call her bluff. What the hell, Paola already knows that I want her. And damn it, all this was making me as hot as hell. I took another sip of my glass. 

Paola had stopped touching my leg when I took the call. Her thigh was still resting against mine, but she was keeping her hands to herself while I took the call. I moved my hand gently to hers and placed it back between my legs. Paola gave a sly smile. 

"Yes, she's sexy," I said into the cell phone, but looking straight at Paola and smiling as I did it. "She's very sexy."

Paola was grinning madly, her big eyes widening as she looked at me in surprise. I felt so bold with what I had just done – such a rush! I opened my legs a little more and shuffled down my seat a little, just to make it even easier for her. I felt her hands reach my pussy again. Oooh, such a wicked thing to be doing in public – and with Sarah on the phone too! Not that anyone in the bar could see what was happening. And yet I wasn't much focused on our surroundings; it seemed like, sitting in the booth, we were in our own little cocoon. 

"Good for you!" Sarah said. "Listen, it sounds like you've got better things to do than talk to me, so I'll call you later. I've got a little favor to ask." 

As I hung up the phone I felt Paola's hand go round the back of my neck. She pulled my face to hers and kissed me hard on the mouth. I kissed her back, but I felt myself panic. I couldn't do it, not here in public. 

"Hey, I'm sorry, but I'm not comfortable doing this here," I whispered softly into her ear as we continued our embrace. She understood. 

"Anyway," she said, "it's getting late, and I really have to study. We better just call it a night." 

We left the bar together. Arm in arm we walked back to our cars in the swimming pool car park. I walked with her to her car. She embraced me, swinging my body around so I lent up against her car as she kissed me passionately. I kissed her back as she earnestly ground her crotch into mine. She had such strength in her thighs! Her firm breasts pushed hard into mine felt fantastic, and I held her tight, my hands roaming all over her back and down across her tight ass. God, what a body! 

We stayed like this for about a minute before she broke off the kiss. 

"Anne, I would love to spend the night with you, but I do have to study tonight. I must pass this exam. But let's get together another time." 

"Yes," I panted. "Let's." I gave her my phone number and another long languid kiss as she got into her car. I got into my car and drove off, dialing Sarah's number as I did. I was feeling very horny. I wondered what Sarah was doing right now? 

As it turned out, she was hard at work studying as well. I wondered whether or not she and Paola knew each other. But for all her last-minute cramming, Sarah did have enough time to ask that favor she mentioned.

"I've decided to enter an amateur stripping competition," she said. "It's in a local bar tomorrow night, and I was hoping you could come along for moral support."

"You're going to do a strip tease in public?" 

"Yep," she said. "You know me, I kind of dared myself. Actually, it's a friend of mine who's running the night, and he was talking about it and I got to thinking, and well... It is pretty full on, I know; that's why I'm asking – I'd feel better if I had someone there I knew." 

"Well... why not?" I said. "Never been to anything like that before but it might be fun." 

"Great! Can you be there by eight?"

"Sure." 

She gave me the address details. God, stripping off in front of a room full of guys – how wild is that? Well, I thought, it's not far from what I once did myself, on that infamous night at Roger's brother's buck's night. No, that's a lot different from being a stripper. Actually, I was looking forward to watching her in action, so to speak; I did find her sexually attractive – God, I'd have liked to have gone round to her place that night had she been free. And I might have slept with her before had the circumstances been different. And I might still, I thought. The mere possibility of that gave me a sense of freedom. Yes, I liked being single. I liked the independence, the freedom to do whatever I liked, unconstrained by the needs and neuroses of a partner. Did I really want a boyfriend at all, I pondered? 




Car Show Slut Ch. 07



Work was becoming busier. That was good; the firm was doing well, and gaining some new and substantial contracts. But the flipside of that was that I could see a few heavy weeks in the office on the horizon. This day was rather frenetic, and I ended up stuck there long after everyone else had left the building tying up a myriad of loose ends. It was almost 7pm by the time I left, which meant I would have to go directly to the strip club from work. God, how surreal it felt: a 10-hour day in the office, and then jump into the car and head off to a strip joint...

I knew the club. It was a bar, really; I didn't know it as a strip club. But then what strip clubs did I know? I found a park close by and headed inside, past two big black security guys on the door. They nodded approvingly as they held open the door and ushered me inside, playing quite the gentlemen. They probably think I'm one of the amateur strippers, I chuckled to myself. Inside, the place was packed. Mostly men, but a few women, and some couples. And there were more of those security guys there as well, just standing around in corners. To be honest, I wouldn't have known what sort of atmosphere to expect from a strip club except for what I'd seen in movies, but this place certainly didn't seem seedy or sleazy. It just seemed like a happy, boisterous crowd. 

I saw Sarah over to one side. She waved and came over, giving me a big kiss. 

"Hey Anne," thanks for coming!" 

"No problem. I think this will be fun. What are you going to wear?" 

Right now she was wearing a big overcoat. I guessed her 'stage gear' was what she was wearing underneath. 

"Pretty much what I was wearing that night we did the drinks girl thing." 

"Oh, God, don't remind me of that," I said. "But you certainly looked hot that night. So, what's the go here – when are you on? God, I can't believe you're actually doing this!" 

"Me neither! I'm nervous, a bit scared, but it's making me hot too!"

We both had a little giggle at that. 

"Well, I think you're going to make a few people here hot, as well," I said. "Anyway, so what time are you on?" 

"I'm on second. There are only three of us. I'm on in about 20 minutes. The first girl is up real soon. I was back stage before and saw her getting ready. She looks pretty hot." 

"So, is this a competition?" 

"Well, yeah," she said, "there's $500 for the winner tonight, but I'm not really trying to compete or anything. Actually, that 500 would be pretty handy!" 

After a while we went to the bar to grab a drink. They were on the house, apparently, on account of Sarah being a contestant. Then I heard some music pumping as the crowd began to roar. A man came out on stage. He was dressed in a ridiculous red suit, with white shirt and red bowtie. He was a young guy, probably late-20s. He looked an unlikely MC of a strip club. 

"That's my friend, Stuart," said Sarah, pointing to red suit man on the stage.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" he said. "Welcome to tonight's inaugural Vauxhall Tavern Amateur Stripping Competition!" 

The crowd roared again. 

"In a moment we will be welcoming to the stage contestant number one. But in the meantime I would just like to remind everyone that these ladies have never done this kind of thing before." 

"Yeaahhh!!" screamed some man in the crowd. 

"So I ask you to be respectful, and to observe the house rule that strictly forbids the taking of photographs here tonight. Now I know all you good folk will abide by the house rules, so I shouldn't need to remind anyone that our friendly security folk have been instructed to have a 'quiet' chat with anyone they see taking any happy snaps. Alright, the formalities out of the way - are y'all ready?!"

The crowd responded with an enormous cheer. They were ready. 

"Alright! I guess you've all had about enough of looking at my ugly face up here, so now let me introduce to you our first contestant of the night, the lovely Virginia!!" 

The music cranked up and the crowd roared. The lights flashed brightly and out onto the stage came Virginia. She was wearing a short nurses' uniform with a red cross across one of her breasts, and one of those little medical caps on her head. She pranced up to the front of the stage and threw off her hat, releasing her long red hair as she turned and wiggled her hips back down the little catwalk. 

"God, she's hot!" Sarah yelled in my ear. She did look good. She danced around the stage for a while and then started fiddling with the zipper on the front of her dress. The guys in the audience screamed in approval as the zipper slid down, exposing a lacy white bra and a generous cleavage.

Soon she was wiggling her way out of the dress. It fell to the floor, leaving her there in front of everyone in just a white bra and g-string, and big pumps. 

She started dancing again, but it was clear to see that she wasn't very coordinated. Still, I thought to myself, this isn't a dance comp, and the guys certainly seemed to be approving the performance. She turned her back to the audience as she unclasped her bra. The whistling from the guys was almost deafening as she swung round to show off her tits. 

She came back to the front edge of the stage, not far from where we were standing, and started fiddling with the elastic of her g-string. The crowd responded instantly. She started swaying her hips as the g-string seemed to glide its way down. When it was just about off, but not yet exposing anything, she whipped it back up and blew a big kiss to the audience. Then she turned on her heels and strode back off the stage. The crowd roared in approval. 

"Ladies and gentlemen, let's have another big hand for Virginia!" the red suit man cried, now back on stage, and the crowd fired up again.

"Now don't y'all go anywhere. Grab another drink from our friendly bar personnel, because we'll be right back soon with our second contestant!" 

Soon the noise subsided, so that you could have a conversation without yelling. 

"She was pretty good," Sarah said. 

"Yeah," I said. "Nice tits, but she wasn't a very good dancer. When do you need to go back stage?" 

"In about 10 minutes," she said. "Oh Anne, I'm so nervous!" 

"You'll be fine. You're hotter than that Virginia, and you heard how the crowd reacted to her." 

"Yeah, it's pretty wild here!" 

We chatted for a while, but it was too noisy to really carry on a decent conversation. We grabbed another round of free drinks and headed off backstage so Sarah could get ready. There were more of those security dudes there. They made for an imposing presence, but at least you knew that nothing was going to happen to you with those thuggish types around. Obviously the venue was out to ensure that whatever happened, no one was going to come anywhere near to laying a finger on any of the contestants. 

We ended up in a kind of changing room out the back, where Virginia was pulling on an old pair of jeans and t-shirt. 

"Hey, you were great!" Sarah said to her. 

"Gee thanks!" she said. "You up next?" 

"Yeah." 

"Nervous?" 

"Very!" 

"Honey, don't be. I was, but once you get out there, it's fine. Wow, I couldn't believe how loudly they were cheering – like, that was a total buzz!" 

Sarah by now had slipped off her overcoat to reveal that same red skirt she'd worn at the buck's night. She was wearing a white shirt, tied together under her breasts, and those big black boots. She looked hot. She pulled a bottle of oil out of her bag. 

"Anne, can you oil me up? I'll look better that way under the lights." 

"Sure." 

She handed me the bottle. I knelt down and began rubbing the oil into her thighs (her calves were concealed by the boots). She lifted her skirt to aid my access as my hands reached her bum. Good, she had a great body! I was rubbing it in but couldn't help but massage her a little as well; her soft, smooth skin just felt so sexy... I rubbed it into her ass slowly but firmly, feeling her tight little butt in my palms. Virginia was sitting off to the side watching. My fingers lingered around the tops of her inner thighs, and she spread her legs a little to aid my access. My fingers licked around the top of her inner thighs and I couldn't help but let them stray up onto her pussy. Ooh, touching her like that, to feel those soft, sexy folds! 

"Mmmm, feels good," she said. "You're getting me nicely ready for this." 

I started on her tummy as she undid the shirt. She reached down and pulled her bra up, letting her breasts spring free. 

"Don't forget my tits, Anne. Make sure they're nicely oiled, please." 

I rubbed the oil all over her stomach, and then up into her breasts. I remembered that night in the hallway of her apartment block when we fondled each other; oh yes, she had fantastic tits. I lovingly massaged them through my hands, pulling gently on her hardening nipples with my fingers. God, I was getting wet, I wanted wrap my mouth around her cute little nipples. I was so worked up now that I wasn't even worried about Virginia being in the room. 

As for Sarah, she was loving it. I concentrated on her beautiful orbs for a bit longer before finishing off with her shoulders and arms. 

"Sarah, you ready?" a voice beckoned from just outside. 

"Give me a couple of minutes." 

"OK." 

The oil job done, I gave her a kiss for luck. 

"Go get 'em, girl," I said, as I prepared to make my way back into the audience so I could watch the show. 

"OK, here I go!" she said. 

I went back out into the bar, grabbing another drink, and found a nice spot to watch. There I was, ostensibly alone in the kind of establishment I never dreamed I'd ever go into, but I wasn't feeling scared or intimidated. There were a few guys who gave me the odd strange look, but with all those security guys here I felt in complete safety. And in any case, while it was a sexually charged atmosphere in the crowded bar, and there probably was the odd weirdo here, all round it seemed like a pretty happy, lively gathering. 

The lights dimmed and Stuart came back out to announce 'contestant number two'. Again the crowd roared. Then the lights flashed and a Macy Gray song came blasting out of the sound system. And on came Sarah. 

God, I thought to myself, she's actually going to do it, as if that hadn't already been apparent. But here she was, up on stage, and about to bare all for a bunch of wildly cheering guys. I was so excited for her! 

She strutted up to the front of the stage in a kind of a skip, her hands playing with the hem of her skirt, as is she was about to pull it up and reveal what was underneath. The guys roared in approval. She danced around, bending over to reveal her taught ass and g-string to the crowd. Yep, she was certainly a bold one, that Sarah. 

Now the tease really began. I felt myself starting to sway to the cool, sexy music as she undid the bottom of her shirt, so that it fell loose by her sides. She held the sides with her hands, firmly, then she flashed it open to expose those lovely tits. More cheering. She was smiling; if she was nervous, it didn't show. She looked in total control. Then in one swift movement, off came the shirt. She held her tits in her hand and thrust her torso out towards the audience, squeezing her tits and even pulling on her nipples. Her hips began to shake to the music as one hand slid down her body, down to her pussy. She grabbed at her pussy through her little skirt, and then lifted the dress up at front. The roar from the crowd was almost deafening. 

Everyone knew what was coming next – the skirt. I found myself caught up in the whirlwind of sexual energy – I too was eagerly waiting for her to shed that little skirt, so that she would be dressed only in this big sexy boots, and that sexy bra and g-string. God, practically naked in front of, God, how many people were here? Hundreds, at least. 

She turned her back to the audience and fiddled with the zipper on the skirt. The crowd fell a little silent for a second, as if in anticipation, and then as she turned her head and smiled at them, they broke out into a roar once more – and they only got louder as the zipper slid down, and Sarah started to wiggle her hips as the skirt slowly slipped over her hips. Once the skirt was over the curve of her hips, there was nothing to stop gravity doing its thing. The skirt simply fell to the floor, and Sarah turned to the crowd with one hand covering her pussy and the other on her mouth, her face in a mock expression as if she was saying something like 'oops!' God, she really knew how to turn it on; she must have really practiced this a lot.

And she was beaming, smiling wildly as she danced around the stage almost naked, her body swaying seductively to the music. God, she looked so hot! Like some ancient Goddess. I found myself imagining she was Ayesha, the ageless queen in that H Rider Haggard novel whose beauty was so profound that any man who gazed on her even for an instant would remain locked in hopeless unrequited love with her until his death. Her skin was shimmering against the lights – the oil really made for a great effect. For a moment I pondered on the fact that it was my hands that had applied the oil – and how any of the hundreds of guys here leering and cheering at her would have so loved to have done that themselves! 

Now she was sliding the straps of her bra over her shoulders. The crowd roared. She was facing them as her hands went around behind her as she unclasped her bra. She let it fall a little loose, her tits almost springing free as the cheering built to a crescendo. Then she whipped it off her body and tossed it into the crowd. They went wild as two guys battled one another to claim the prize. She started rotating her hips, clutching her naked breasts. She seemed consumed by the sexuality of the music, moving with it in almost perfect time, her lips parting as she almost seemed to moan. God, it was such a sexy display! I was almost dancing along with her, as were most of the people there. If the guys here were getting worked up, she was making me hot too! 

All that remained was her tiny g-string. She was thrusting her pelvis at the audience, arms raised and her fists in a kind of clench. Then she changed pace, her hips slowly gyrating now as her hands glided almost like wings down to rest on her hips. They slid under the material of her g-string and she tugged it hard. The guys yelled again. God, she was going to do it! And the look on her face; total sexuality – she looked almost like she was about to cum. As for myself, she had been making me wetter and wetter with this unbridled display of sexuality. And then I thought, God, it might be me who ends up in bed later on with this sexy Goddess! 

Just as she looked about to expose everything, she stopped. She was gesturing to the crowd with her hands, as if to say 'come on, show me how much you want to see my pussy!'. I couldn't believe how bold she was, how she could be in such control of this room of hundreds of sexed up guys. She had them hanging off her finger. 

And they roared. Seemingly satisfied with the response, her hands went back to her hips. This time she didn't disappoint. She grabbed the little string and pulled it straight down, straight down to her knees. They roared again, louder. She stood there, slouching to one side, g-string around her knees, legs apart, completely naked, her hands now up on her head, running through her hair, as if to highlight the fact that her pussy was completely on show. The crowd seemed to have gone completely mad, the whistling almost deafening. Then she straightened up, took a bow and pulled up her string. She blew them a kiss and left the stage to more deafening applause. 

The show now over, I hurriedly made my way back stage, grabbing another couple of drinks as I passed the bar. I found Sarah just off to the side of the stage. She looked exhausted. She looked, well she had the look of someone who had just been fucked hard. I rushed up and embraced her. 

"Oh Sarah, that was so hot! Did you enjoy it?" She was panting hard. 

"Oooh yeah! That was... amazing! God, before I went on I almost had a panic attack, I thought I would back out, but, oh God, when I heard them all cheering, cheering for me, I just felt, Yes! Let's do this!" 

I was so happy for her. I was in awe of her, in fact. And she looked just so euphoric! Which was more than could be said for what was going on around us. There was some kind of drama here with Stuart, the guy with the red suit. He was frantically pacing up and down, carrying on an urgent conversation with the guy operating the sound gear. He looked worried. They both did. 

"Hey, what's wrong?" Sarah said. "Oh, Stuart, this is my friend, Anne."

"Oh, hi Anne," he mumbled. His mind was clearly on things other than socializing. 

"Shit!" he said, turning to Sarah. "The third girl, Roni – she's pulled out! She's had second thoughts – she's not coming." 

"Well, that's not a big problem is it?" Sarah said. 

"It is a big problem! My contract with the Vauxhall says that I have to have a minimum of three girls. If she doesn't show, I'm gonna dump about two thousand on this!"

"Have you called her?" said Sarah.

"Jesus, don't you think I've tried calling? She's stopped answering her phone. Oh Christ, this was a bad idea!" 

"Well, I don't know, but it's not my fault!" 

"Hey, I'm sorry Sarah," he said. "I didn't mean to take it out on you. Sorry babe. And you were great out there, unbelievably sexy – you wowed them big time. I'm sorry, I just don't know what to do!"

The poor guy was beside himself, almost in tears. Actually, yes, he was crying. I felt very sorry for him. After the rapture of Sarah's performance, all of a sudden the place felt like a morgue. I took another swig of my wine, as if to drown the collective sorrows of the room. Just outside there was a pack of alcohol-fueled horny guys having the time of their lives, waiting for the next girl, who wasn't going to show. 

It was one of those situations where you just want to help, like when someone's relationship has broken up, or someone's had some kind of really bad news, but even though you know there's nothing you can do, you still try to help them out. And that's how I came to say: "Gee, I wish there was something I could do to help." 

Sarah looked at me. 

"You could do it." 

"Do what?" I said. 

"You could be the third girl." 

"Sarah!" 

"Why not?" She was suddenly becoming animated again. "Oh Anne, you have no idea what a charge that was! It was unbelievable, nothing like what I expected. Go on, I dare you." 

I suddenly felt scared, under the spotlight. 

"No, you're not going to dare me. I can't go out there!" 

Stuart seemed to be coming alive now. 

"Yes, yes, you could, you could do it! Oh, look, you don't have to do much – just prance around and just flash your bra at them. You don't have to strip. All I need is three girls; if any of them chose not to go all the way, or even a little of the way, that doesn't matter – I'm still in the clear." 

"Go on," said Sarah. "Just give them a little flash – what's the harm in that? And there's no one taking photos out there, remember." 

I looked at Stuart. His eyes were pleading. I felt cornered. They were all waiting for an answer. I couldn't do it. Go out there as a stripper, even if I didn't strip? But the more they waited, the more I found it hard to refuse them outright. 

"I can't do this. I just can't, and anyway - look at what I'm wearing? You can't be a stripper dressed like this." 

Stuart looked me up and down. I had come straight from work, so I was still in my work wear – short gray skirt and suit jacket, white blouse and black heels. 

"Honey, you're perfect dressed like that. You look totally sexy! You're a classy lady, totally hot!" 




Car Show Slut Ch. 07



Call it vanity, call it the effects of alcohol. Because I had had quite a bit to drink, and here I was downing another glass of wine. It was a sure sign that I'd drunk too much because I'd lost count of how many glasses I'd had. If I just went out there, pranced around a bit, flashed just a little bit and then got the hell out of there, how bad would that be? And I would have saved the day. And it wasn't as though I was too modest or shy to perform in front of an audience, with all that modeling and acting training when I was young. I downed the last of my glass. Oh, what the heck. Yes, I would do it. I saw Stuart looking at me, waiting, pleading...

"OK," I said. 

"Yes! Ooh, I love you!" Stuart cried as he embraced me in a big hug. "Right," he said, springing to his feet, "let's get this show on the road! First, we need a name – I'm going to announce you before you go on, and you don't need to use your real name if you don't want to."

"Oh, that'd be Angie," said Sarah with a wry smile. 

"Thanks, Sarah," I smirked. "Yeah, Angie would be fine." 

"Right, it's Angie. What about music? You'll need to dance a bit, so think of a song you like and we'll see if Jim – that's Jim there, he's our sound guy – we'll see if he's got it." 

I thought about my favorite songs, and the first to pop into my head was Hendrix's Foxy Lady. Such a sexy song. 

"Jim!" Stuart yelled across room, "you heard the lady – Fox Lady! Have you got it!" 

Jim started fumbling urgently though his pile of cds. He bumped the side of the desk as he searched, and what seemed like a hundred disks tumbled onto the floor. Stuart rolled his eyes to the ceiling. 

"Yes, here it is – found it!" said Jim. 

"OK, great! Cue it up, we're going on in two minutes!" 

God, two minutes! I frantically checked my appearance, making sure my hair was straight. Sarah looked at me with a grin.

"Anne, they won't be worried if your hair's not straight. Hey, you look fine, don't worry. Once you're out there, you'll see what I mean." 

My heart was pounding – I was trembling in anticipation of what was about to happen. What if someone I knew was out there? No, don't think of that. Oh, my glasses, I must take off my glasses! 

"Hey," said Stuart, "leave the glasses on. It'll be hard to see out there with the lights, and anyway, you look sexy in glasses." 

OK, the glasses stay. But what will I do out there? How will I dance? What if I just froze up? I thought of my modeling days – that's it! Pretend it's like a modeling catwalk. And I'm in my business clothes, so I can make it into some kind of weird fashion show. Just walk up and down a bit, strike a pose at the end of the stage... That should do it. 

"OK Anne, are you ready?" said Stuart. 

"Yes. Sarah, give me a sip of your wine!" 

Sarah held the glass as I took a big gulp. She gave me a big kiss. 

"Oh Anne," she said, as she reached down to undo the top two buttons on my blouse, "you'll be great! Just go with it; it feels fantastic out there!"

"Right," said Stuart. "Just stay here and wait for my intro. You'll hear me, you'll hear them cheering, then the music will start and then you go on. OK? Good luck!" 

With that he was off, out through the curtain and onto the stage. I could hear the crowd come to life as they spotted the red suited man appear to announce the next stripper. Me.

"Ladies and gentleman, thank you for your patience. For our last contestant, we have a rare and very special treat. This is a lady of style and class, of sophistication and beauty, a lady I am sure you are going to love. So please give it up y'all for the lovely Angieeee!!" 

I heard them roar as Stuart scurried off the stage. Then, as if it was seeping out of the walls, I heard that menacing opening guitar riff of Foxy Lady. OK, here I go...

I pulled the curtain aside and stepped into the light. It was like stepping into another world. I took two steps and stopped to take in the scene before me. But I could hardly see anything, so bright were the lights. I stood there making a model's pose, hands on hips, one leg pushed forward. Even if I couldn't see them, I could hear them - they howled in appreciation; the cheering was so loud that I could almost feel the energy behind it, the pure lust of hundreds of guys out there somewhere, their eyes fixed on my every move. Yes, I could feel the heat, the energy; it was palpable. 

Catwalk, catwalk, I kept saying to myself. I strutted up to the front of the stage and stopped to hold another pose. They cheered again. Even up this close to them, I could barely make out any faces, just a sea of heads in the blinding light. I could feel the heat rising onto the stage from so many bodies crammed into the bar. 

I turned and walked back down the stage, shaking my hips in an attempt to be sexy. I heard them cheering. I felt very self conscious and nervous, but they seemed to be liking me. I turned and faced them. I bent forward and picked up the hem of my skirt, raising it up my thigh a bit. They roared again, and I felt their energy almost absorb through my body. They were reacting to my every move. It was a powerful feeling; it was sexy. Total admiration. I felt almost elated! 

I shed my jacket, hurling it onto the floor. More cheering. I turned to the side of the stage and began to unbutton my blouse. Then howls of approval only emboldened me. Down the row to the last button, I was about to leave it at that but they were cheering me on, almost willing me to do it. I undid the last button and opened my blouse just a little bit. The whistling increased; it sounded like a siren. I still hadn't shown them anything other than my belly but they were going wild! I strutted back up to the front of the stage, Hendrix's cool tones ringing through my brain, melding into the cheers from the crowd as if it was some giant rock concert, and I was the star performer. 

Ooh, it was such a rush! I felt such power, as though they were hanging on my every move, waiting to see what I would do next. And they were. It felt sexy; it was making feel sexy. The song was half way through but it felt like only the start. I turned to face them. I could not really see them, but I could feel them. 

I walked back to the front of the stage, blouse undone. I reached my hands up to the sides of my collar. They cheered. I remembered how Sarah had teased them. I stood there, as if ready to shed my blouse, waiting. Up this close you could distinguish the loudest individual voices in the crowd below. I drank in the cheers, exhilarated at their response, their urgings. I felt something like a star. I tugged at my blouse – should I do it? Yes. I let it slip it off my shoulders. 

The song was nearly over. I could stop it now; I had given them a little flash – God, I had taken my blouse off! - but I wanted to keep going a little longer. Wanted to feel their energy, their admiration, make them go wild for me. Oh yes, Sarah was right; there was nothing like it! 

And I was getting wet. So many guys out there and they all want me; dying to see more of my body. It was like a drug, and I needed more. I then knew I was going to do it – I was going to strip out of my skirt. Yes. My clitoris was throbbing now. Standing at the front of the stage, right there in front of them, as close as I could get to them, close enough that I knew some of them could be able to look up my skirt. I made another pose but this time my hands were on my skirt. On the zipper. I felt the zipper's little handle – it felt like a switch in my hands, a trigger. I pulled. They roared as collectively they realized I was about to lose the skirt. I zipped it down. The skirt fell loose but stayed around my hips. I smiled out into the light. I shook my hips to the music, and down fell my skirt. More deafening applause as I stood there in nothing but my white bra and g-string, and my skirt pooled around my heels on the floor. I stepped out of the skirt, flicking it with my foot so that it landed back down the end of the stage. I felt a surge of blood to my pussy; God, I was nearly naked in front of them! 

I began to dance as the song faded out, shaking my hips, waving my hands in the air, even rubbing my tits through my bra – provoking even more cheering. The song was over; too soon, I felt, but just as I thought about the best way to make my exit, a new song kicked in, a more modern funky number. I still could have just walked off, but I wanted to enjoy just a little bit more of this; I didn't want it to end just yet. Just a little longer. My dance continued. And the longer I danced, the less self conscious I felt. The audience almost seemed to morph now into a combined mass of energy and heat. 

I could feel their visceral energy right through my being. My body was responding to their attention, their applause. My pussy was soaking now, throbbing almost painfully, I could feel it. My nipples were hard. Yes, this was good; I felt exposed, but I felt powerful; at the centre of an enclosed sexual universe. They wanted more. I could feel it as they urged me on. I wanted more. I grabbed my tits, squeezing, feeling my stiffening nipples through the material of my bra. I knew what they wanted. Did I want it too? But would I? Could I? 

I almost hadn't realized what I was doing straight away, but I was pinching my nipples, pulling them tightly. Ooh, my nipples were so hard... The crowd could see it, see what I was doing, and they roared in approval. Yes! 

God, I could feel the sensations building inside my body. I was becoming engulfed in a sexual fog within the surreal scene up on stage, barely able to see but engrossed in an intimate sexual and physical conversation with hundreds of males. God, I even briefly imagined how many cocks I'd caused to be hard out there. Oohh...

Through the maelstrom I could pick out the odd individual voice, the odd word. It sounded like 'TITS!' I could hear, and then yes, I realized I could definitely hear it, as a chorus began to build of 'TITS! TITS! TITS!' 

They want it. And yes, I wanted it. I wiggled my hips as my hands went around behind my back, and they roared as they saw me unclasping the catch on my bra. I felt it come loose, releasing the tension on my breasts. It was now or never. I could simply have walked off the stage at that point, having already gone far, far further than I'd planned. God, half an hour ago the idea of even standing up here would have seemed impossible, and here I was now about to show my tits to hundreds of guys! The only thing holding my bra on now was my hands held against my chest. I could feel my heart beating fiercely through my hands. 

As I danced, I let my hands go loose, letting my bra fall to the floor. The crescendo of cheering rose as they watched me now, only in my panties and heels, my body twisting and turning now as much in a sexual trance as in time with the music, my tits jiggling as I danced, free of any constraint, on display for all the enjoyment of all those men. My heart was pounding. My pussy was throbbing hard. I was wetter than ever. I could feel the excitement rising through me like a wave; the itch; God, I could feel it now – I was very close to having an orgasm! 

I just kept dancing, running my hands now over my sweating body, letting them slide up and down my hips, up my torso, over my tits and my painfully hard nipples, even tweaking them, ratcheting up my arousal even more as I grabbed my tits. I peered out into the crowd, trying to make out some faces. I wanted to see the expressions, the looks of lust on their faces. I could just make out a few. They were yelling, whistling, smiling. 

I was so wet that I knew it must be showing through the material of my panties – God, they would all know how much I was enjoying this! I should have felt ashamed, but that thought, that they could see, that they knew, God, it only got me even wetter. 

And I wanted them to see. I wanted them to see me. See my body. See my bare, naked, shaved little pussy, all swollen and hot and wet, and my clit ring, my slutty little clit ring to match the nipple rings they were now all freely drinking in with glazed, lustful eyes. I couldn't stop myself as my flailing hand landed on my crotch and rubbed hard. I felt like I was spinning out of control, and yet at the same time more in command of my faculties, more in tune with my senses, than I had ever been. I looked out into the delirious crowd and pouted as I rubbed my steaming wet pussy through my panties, bending my legs and thrusting forward, as if metaphorically fucking the whole room. God, I almost couldn't believe myself – here I was almost naked, rubbing my pussy in front of a room full of guys! Ooh God, I was almost about to cum...

They were chanting now, a deep guttural tone that was building in urgency and volume. OFF! That's what they were chanting. OFF! 

Off! Oh yes, my brain screamed, do it - take off your panties! I grabbed the sides of my g-string, my hips still wiggling almost involuntarily. My mouth was open and I was panting, partly through physical exertion, but mostly through arousal. I felt so hot! My mouth was watering as I stood there looking out into the smoky light and across the shadows of heads. Their chorus had died down a little but the energy behind it was still there, as if like a wave about to crash. 

I tugged it down over my hips as they screamed in approval. I glanced down my body, my wet, glistening skin shining against the hot light. I could see my clit ring now peeking out of the top of my panties, the steel flashing under the spotlights. It was my own body but to me it looked just soo hot, so sexy! My clit was throbbing like a beating heart. This was it; oh yes - get them off!

I yanked the string down, almost ripping it down my hips and legs, stepping one foot out of it as it hit the floor. I stood there literally drinking in their cheers with my skin, my ears almost deafened under the assault. Naked in front of hundreds of guys, and wetting myself. It felt strangely like the highlight of some fashion show as I imagined the lights to be the flashes of a thousand cameras trained on my body. My naked body. My tits. My cunt. 

Before I even seemed to realize it myself, my hand was rubbing my pussy. I rubbed harder, as the final strands of self-consciousness seemed to drift away. I could feel how wet I was. I knew that my pussy would have been shining in the light, glistening lewdly – I knew that they could all see it. And it only made me wetter. Yet all I could see was the blinding white light as I feverishly rubbed my bare, wet pussy in front of all those guys. 

Time seemed to stand still. I looked up into the brightest lights as they roared with approval. I felt my sheer sexuality at the centre of some male universe; the object of their desire, but unattainable, and unable to see them as I was, I imagined hundreds of guys with hard cocks and rubbing them through their pants, watching me and unable to stop themselves from ejaculating on the spot. I rubbed harder, harder, and they roared, collectively as some growling beast, and my finger slipped inside my opening. Straight in. I was as wet as I'd ever been. Ooohh, I was going to cum right there on stage! 

Then the lights seemed to dim a little. Suddenly I could make out a few faces. And with that, a little of my self-consciousness returned; I suddenly started to feel exposed. In an odd way, I had felt anonymous in not being able to see them. My body and mind felt overheated, but somehow the moment was fading. The music was still pumping but I realized the show was over now; I had gone as far as I could go, as far as I should – yet way too far! It was time to stop. I stood up – God, I hadn't even noticed that I'd slid down on my haunches as I fingered myself in front of them – oh God, had I really just done that? But I felt elated, euphoric, and before I left I bowed to the crowd, then picked up my g-string as I scurried back down the stage to the curtain, and made my exit, their cheers still ringing in my ears. 

Sarah, Stuart and Jim were waiting on the other side. They gave me a round of applause. Sarah hugged me tightly. Even the two backstage security guys were cheering. They were also leering at my naked sweaty body. I didn't mind. I even wanted them to look. I sat down and someone threw a towel over my shoulders. But I just left it there as the security guys stood there grinning madly, leering at my naked body, staring at my pussy, my legs spread half open as I relaxed. 

Stuart kissed me on the cheek. 

"Thank you, honey – you were fantastic! You've saved my bacon tonight!" 

I nodded in acknowledgement as he scurried back out onto the stage. I started collecting up my clothes – Stuart evidently had gathered up my skirt, blouse and jacket from where I'd left them out on the stage. 

God, that had been unbelievable; I still didn't believe it myself. Had that really just happened? But now it was over, the excitement gone. I almost felt like I was coming down off a drug. I felt tired all of a sudden. Sarah was exactly the opposite, almost dancing around the room. 

"Oooh, you were so hot!" she said. "It's amazing when you get out there, isn't it!" 

"Yeah," I sighed. I really was tired now. She was talking about making a real night of it, going out on the town, but I really just wanted to go home – preferably with her. As physically and mentally exhausted as I was, I still felt sexually charged. God, I had almost had an orgasm – naked on stage! – and I felt that familiar yearning, that frustration deep inside. 

Maybe I should make a big night of it, I thought? I looked across at the big black security guard as I put my bra back on. The rest of me was still naked. The guy was looking at me with piercing eyes, grinning. I smiled back at him. I noticed he was still staring at my naked pussy. I looked at his pants. You could clearly see the outline of his cock – hard, enormous, almost threatening to tear through the material.



Car Show Slut Ch. 08



Wow, what a night that had been! Well, actually I didn't make such a big night of it in the end; I left Sarah to party on into the small hours. Before I did leave the strip club, though, there was one last tasty little interlude with that black security guy. Stuart was out on stage doing the judging, and Sarah had gone out to grab some drinks from the bar, so it was just me and the security guy. He was looking me up and down with piercing eyes, smiling. Staring at my naked pussy. I smiled back at him, almost surprised at myself that I didn't mind him looking. I'd already noticed the enormous hard on in his pants and, exhausted though I was, I was still feeling rather horny after the 'show'. 

"That was one hot show you put on out there, girl," he said as I put my bra on. "You got it goin' on!" 

"Thank you," I smiled. I was still sitting down, naked except for my bra and heels. I felt his piercing gaze on my body. My pussy began to throb. Strangely, sitting there basically naked as this big black guy leered at me and complimented me was almost more exciting than revealing it all on stage. God, he was looking straight at my pussy. And I actually shifted my legs a little to show him more. It felt so wicked, but why not? Hundreds of others out there had just seen everything, and more. At that moment I felt just so sexual. I started wondering what it would be like to actually fuck a black guy. His cock looked huge in his pants. 

"Yeah, you sure is one hot lady," he said, in that big deep voice. "Nice tits, clit piercing; damn fine, baby." 

I almost blushed at his comments, and his boldness. My pussy was doing more than that. I was getting wet again. I smiled at him. God, he was sexy: big, muscular, black. I wanted him. Yes, I wanted him, and as 'Angie' the stripper, I felt emboldened, I guess almost licensed in a way as I think about it now, to proposition this black guy that I didn't know, which was something that Anne would never, ever do. God, having sex with a black guy! 

"I'm Angie," I smiled sweetly. 

"Leroy. Pleased to meet you, ma'am." 

"So Leroy, what are you doing after work? Feel like going for a drink?" Ooh, that felt so wicked! And here I was, naked, showing this stranger my pussy and virtually propositioning him!

"I'd love to, baby, really love to. But I lose my job if I seen with the lady performers. That the rule here in the place, and I stick by the rule." 

"That's a shame," I shrugged. 

"Baby, I can look, but no touch. But ya'll could give me a little show right here in private with that sexy little pussy of yours. Ain't no one else here right now." 

Ooh yes, I could do that, I remember thinking, and I remember how the very idea of it sent my clit into an almost throbbing spasm. I shifted in my seat so I was facing him directly. I smiled up at him and spread my legs for him. I grabbed my tits and massaged them as seductively as I could. God, that somehow felt even more brazen than what I'd just done on stage! He seemed to like my show. Very much so, by the look on his face. 

"You like that?" I teased. God, was I really doing this?

"Oh yeah, baby, show me that sweet pussy. Damn that's fine!" 

My legs were wide apart. I slid my hand down to my clit and gently played with it, tugging the ring. Ooh, I was wetting myself – and the look on Leroy's face! He looked tortured, like all he wanted in the world was to rip his pants off and jam his big black cock deep inside me and fuck me like I was his little white whore. As that thought swam through my consciousness, my hand slid down to my opening, and felt the dewy wetness. I was so wet, so frustrated! The tip of my finger slipped inside and I rubbed it up and down my opening, as much for my own pleasure as that of Leroy, who looked like he was about to cum in his pants. I looked into his eyes. The man was consumed by lust, and so was I. I could hardly believe the scene, what I was doing in front of a man I didn't even know – a black man! 

Then Sarah came back into the room. There our little private show ended. Leroy straightened himself up and I went back to getting dressed. I left not long after that, leaving Sarah to party on into the night. Leroy actually escorted me to my car to make sure I 'don't get no trouble' from some of the guys in the audience that were now spilling out of the bar and into the street. And he was true to his word; Leroy didn't lay a finger on me, even if the look on his face said he'd just about have given his right arm to fuck me. He did give me his phone number, though. I guess it was OK to be seen with the 'lady performers' out of work time. I tucked it away in my purse. Maybe...

And the funny thing was, before I left, when Stuart came back from the stage, he told me I'd won the contest! They judged it by the applause from the crowd, and apparently they cheered the most for me! I would give the $500 to Sarah – I didn't need it – but I decided the keep the beauty queen-style sash that read 'Vauxhall Tavern Miss Amateur Stripper 2006'...

God, what a night indeed! Days later as I reflected on it all, I still could hardly believe I'd been a stripper in a strip club. 

I hadn't been to the gym in a while so I thought I'd better make a visit – after all, I'd already paid the month in full for my personal trainer. Might as well get my money's worth. The euphoria of the stripping experience had remained with me for several days after the event, and even as I went through my routine with Steve, the personal trainer, my mind drifted back to how it felt up on stage – and how it all seemed somehow not quite real. It had certainly got me horny, though, and I was feeling particularly frustrated as I went through my weights program, Steven towering above me as he 'spotted' for me. Having him there in close proximity wasn't helping on the frustration front. As usual he was wearing those tight lyrca shorts, which showed off his rippling thigh muscles, as well as his nicely endowed member. Yep, it was just like the last time I was here – the lycra left little to the imagination, and in the right position you could clearly make out the shape of the head of his cock through the material. It was hard not to look at his cock; after all, I was lying on the floor as I did my weights, and he was standing basically directly over me. I never used to notice it much before, but tonight I could hardly take my eyes off it. God, this guy is built! Those muscle-bound thighs of his, so powerful, and his cock just nestling there under the lycra. God, I could almost reach up and touch it from where I was. I started imagining what it would look like naked. What it would feel like in my bare hand, against my skin, as it started to get hard. I bet his cock would get very hard... Mmm. God, this was getting me wet. Sex with my personal trainer? No...

When I noticed him looking down at me and tuned my gaze away almost out of embarrassment and glanced down my own body. My nipples were stiff, erect under my tight lycra top, and as a looked at them closely I realized that, if you knew what you were looking at, you could just make out the shape of my two nipple pins under my top. I wondered if Steve could see them. I wondered, too, how concealed from view my clit ring was in my tight lycra shorts? Could he see that as well? Just the idea that he might, ooh, that sent a tinge straight to my pussy. 

Later that night at home as I was doing the laundry, I picked up the sash I'd won at the stripping competition. How cute, I thought, just like you'd see in a beauty pageant. I imagined myself back at the club, receiving my sash for hottest stripper and going out on the stage in nothing but my heels, the sash and a bouquet of flowers to receive the applause of the crowd. I stripped off my gym gear and threw the sash over my shoulder and modeled with it in the mirror. Hmm, Miss Amateur Stripper 2006 indeed! 


Next day at work, I was regretting the gym workout. I'd pushed myself too hard, maybe on account of my sexual frustration, but whatever, now I was very stiff and sore. Maybe I should stick to swimming. 

Soon, though, I had other matters to occupy my mind. Ron, the guy from the beach, the guy from Wallgrove-Fordham, one of our clients, and whom I would be meeting next week, was on the phone. I felt a slight shudder at hearing his voice, which was the last time I had spoken to him since that infamous, embarrassing day at the beach. 

"Anne, we've got a problem," he said. "With the campaign." 

"What is it?" 

"It's not good. Look, can you bring forward our meeting to this afternoon? It's really that urgent. I'll explain when you get here." 

"Um, OK, I'll see you, say, around two." 

"Good, see you then. Bye." 

There seemed an air of mystery behind what he had said. I felt wary – he hadn't explained exactly what the problem was. What if it had something to do with the beach? No, it wasn't like that. Don't be paranoid. He was genuinely concerned, judging by the tone of his voice, and he had said it was to do with the campaign. Either way, I had no choice – I had to go. I rescheduled my afternoon and let my staff know what was going on. 

Ron and his colleague Darren were waiting for me in the lobby when I arrived at Wallgrove-Fordham. They made an odd pair – while they were both probably in their late 30s, Ron was tall, fairly slim with short black/gray hair, while Darren was short, a little bit stocky but in a muscular kind of way, and slightly balding. But they both had the same edgy look about them as we headed into their board room. Clearly, something was badly amiss. 

"Anne, I want you to take a look at this," said Darren as he switched on the dvd player. Obviously it was going to be some kind of video, but when I saw what it was I couldn't believe it. There was our entire campaign, more or less, but as an ad for their main competitor. It wasn't exactly the same as they one we'd just spent weeks devising and producing, but the general theme was almost identical. 

"I think you can see the problem we've got," Darren said. "This ran prime time over much of the west coast last night. And our spies tell us they're going nation wide within two weeks, maybe earlier. And the print campaign, we believe, is basically the same." 

My heart sank. This was a monumental problem. The campaign that we'd done for them, that was to be formally presented to their boss in the morning for final approval, now could not be used. So we now had nothing, and worse, the competitor was already out there in the market place. The campaign had been done by my two troublesome underlings back in the office, Brad and Pete, and while I hadn't been fully happy with it, I'd signed off on it, so it was my head on the block. For a moment as we looked at the ad one more time, I wondered whether or not there was something untoward going on here – such as Brad or Pete having got an offer from our rival marketing firm. No, even those two wouldn't be so stupid as to pull a stunt like that. 

"Look," said Darren, "Obviously we're not happy, and it's your campaign that's landed us in this mess. But I'm not blaming you, because we all thought it was a good idea right up until last night. But we're in trouble here – all of us. If we make our presentation tomorrow to our superiors, we're all going to look like a bunch of idiots. It might even be worth more than our jobs." 

Ron nodded. "So, what can we do?" said Ron. "I mean, we can't come up with a new TV ad overnight, and we have to have something on the table tomorrow morning." 

"OK," I said, thinking on my feet. "Maybe if we can come up with a new concept, and massage that into something that's at least presentable, do some rough layouts, and give them that. We could stall for time, tell them – I'll tell them myself, I'll take the blame - there have been a few technical hitches but it's all going to plan." 

"But when, how?" said Darren. 

"Here, right now. We've got the rest of the afternoon, so let's just get it done between the three of us. What do you guys think?" 

Seeing that we were all in this together, and no one could come up with an alternative, the answer wasn't hard. 

"Right," I said. "Forget the old campaign. I want you to both write down all the positive aspects of the product you can think of. We'll pool our ideas and see what we end up with." 

I find I always work best under pressure, and this was no different. It took a few hours and much discussion, and despite the urgency of the problem it was an enjoyable experience – and productive. These guys were good to work with: quick witted, and smart. By the end of the day we'd hit upon a basic slogan – and a rather catchy one, too, which Ron had come up with. 

"Well done, Ron," I said. "You could be a marketing man with talents like that."

"Thanks," he said. "Well, you know, I'm a talented guy," he added with what I took for a knowing smile. There was no doubt what he meant. This was the first time I'd really got to take a close look at Ron, notwithstanding how 'close' we'd been in the beach episode. He wasn't an unattractive man at all. He had a warm smile and nice brown eyes. Quite a contrast with Darren, who looked more like a guy who had done a lot of blue collar work. I mean, who can tell, but in his appearance he had a certainly ruggedness to him that you don't normally find in desk jockeys. Not unappealingly – he wasn't a bad looking guy, either – just a little out of the ordinary. 

As for the campaign, we still weren't out of the woods yet; there was still a lot to be done as I looked at my watch – 6pm. This was going to be a late one. Pretty much the rest of the company had gone home by now, and Darren got on the phone to order pizzas. When they arrived we took a short break. The guys broke out some beers from the company fridge. I was rather exhausted after what was turning out to be a very a long day, and after the gym workout the night before, and the beer was a welcome respite. I took off my jacket and relaxed into the chair, putting my feet up on the board room table as we shared the pizzas. It was very hot in the room, I noticed, and the guys had long ago shed their coats. Darren had taken his tie off. Both their brows were sweating.

"Can we turn the air up a bit?" I asked. 

"It's on full," said Darren. "There's a fault with the system. The guys are coming tomorrow to fix it." 

I noticed as he spoke that he was giving my legs the once over, and I thought that maybe resting them up on the table was perhaps a little too casual of me. As for the heat of the room, it was lucky I was wearing light clothing: short beige skirt and thin white blouse. I noticed both guys eyeing me off earlier, but I didn't mind too much. And really, we were having a very productive evening under stressful conditions, and maybe that slight amount of sexual tension helped spark things along on the ideas front. It was fun working with those guys; they had a good handle on things from a marketing perspective. It looked like we'd be able to pull this off. 

Back to work, I pulled out my lap top and started on some layout roughs. Darren was busy writing out the presentation to fit the new material; Ron was standing over me making suggestions as I worked on the design. 

"That's good," he said, "pointing to the screen, his other hand resting on my shoulder. I felt his touch like a little jolt, like a physical memory of our beach encounter. He left his hand there for a while before removing it. All the while he stood over me I was keenly aware of his presence in a physical sense, even when his hand wasn't on my shoulder. I couldn't see him behind me; he was just there. I idly glanced down my body as I typed. The top button on my blouse must have come undone, I noticed now, and I was showing a little more cleavage than I might have normally intended. Sitting there so long, my skirt had ridden up a little too high as well, and, in the heat of the room, I didn't have my legs crossed. I had a fair idea that Ron was concentrating as much on my body as he was on the screen. Yet I didn't mind. For a minute my mind flashed back to that day on the beach, when he got a lot farther than simply looking at my legs. I wondered, aware of his gaze over my shoulder, if he was thinking something similar. But none of this really put me off; this was grueling work putting this thing together, and a little light hearted flirtatious interplay was just something to sweeten up the hard grind. And soon we had the makings of a finished product. 

I slumped back in the chair, satisfied with my efforts. We were there. It was almost 10 o'clock, and after so much sitting at the computer my already sore muscles were really aching. I reached back and rubbed my shoulder blade as Ron read the finished product over my shoulder. 

"Sore back?" he said. 

"Yeah. Too many hours at the computer." 

"Let me do it." 

I really should have said no, what with our history, but after such a long day it was just what I needed. And, I had to admit, I knew how good this man was with his hands. I wondered whether Darren knew about 'the beach'. 

Ron began to massage my back, down between my shoulder blades. Yes, it was as though the physical memory of him was etched into my body, my skin. Upon that realization I felt a twinge of embarrassment. What if Darren did know? 

"Well, we're pretty much done," said Darren looking up from his screen. "You want some more beers?"

Ron and I both nodded. As Darren went off to grab the beers, Ron continued his massage. He was up on my shoulders now, massaging gently but firmly. I could feel his fingers working into my skin through the material of the blouse, pushing deep into the muscles, but not too hard. His touch was subtle, knowing somehow. And there was a sensuousness to the way his fingers, his hands, moved over my shoulders; long, languid, rhythmic strokes. It felt fantastic. I felt my body begin to relax under his touch. As he worked the muscles of the tops of my shoulder a little harder, he was gripping the material of my blouse as his fingers worked my skin. Glancing down my body, I noticed that my blouse was bulging out the opening in the front, so that at least half of my bra could be seen. I didn't know whether he was doing it deliberately, but I knew that from his vantage point he could see right down the front of my blouse. I felt slightly unnerved, but I was enjoying the massage too much. I leaned forward and took the fresh beer Darren handed me. 

"Lucky you!" Darren said as he watched Ron massaging me. The way he said it, I wasn't sure whether he was referring to me or Ron. I thought I ought to answer him, so that it was taken as read that he meant me. 

"Yeah, lucky me. This is just what I need – I think I pushed too hard at the gym last night." 

"Well, a good massage after going to the gym is always good," Darren said, taking a huge slug of his beer. He put his beer down, clapped his hands down on his thighs and stood up, saying: "Here, let me do your legs." 

This was heading into dangerous waters. There were alarms going off in my brain. Ron's massage was innocent enough, but to have Darren do my legs as well, just the three of us here late at night? It wasn't an appropriate thing to be doing in a work environment. 

"No thanks," I said, "I'll be fine."

"Oh come on, Anne," I heard Ron's voice over my shoulder. "You'll feel so much better after a decent massage."

That was true, of course, and I already was feeling a whole lot better. And just a little bit horny, I might add. There were still the lingering frustrations I felt in the wake of the strip night, along with the gym experience with Steve and looking up at that big cock of his, and Ron's fingers were certainly hitting the spot just right. I thought of what he had just said – he knew only too well how much 'better' I felt after a 'decent' massage. Another reason why I should call a halt to this. 




Car Show Slut Ch. 08



"Well, let me just do your feet," said Darren. "A nice foot massage."

"No, it's OK," I said. I hoped that would be enough. I didn't want to make a scene – these were clients, after all.

"Come on, Anne," said Ron. "You know you'll enjoy it." He knew it, too. As he spoke, he swung the chair around so that it was facing off to the side of the table. So that Darren could give me the foot massage.

"Darren, this really isn't necessary..."

"Nonsense," he said, as he rolled his own chair across from the side. He sat down and lifted my foot up onto his thigh. Ron wasn't saying anything, just continuing with his rather glorious massage of my upper back. Darren held my left foot as he undid the strap of my shoe.

"Well," I said, "alright." By then he already had my shoe off and had begun. At that point, what else could I say? And by then I was well and truly feeling the combined effects of the alcohol and Ron's deft ministrations. A foot massage? Why not? It's only a foot massage. 

But Darren certainly had skilled hands. I hadn't had a foot massage since I knew not when, and it felt exquisite. His fingers firmly working into the arch of my foot, across the heel, the ball... ooh, just to the point where it was almost too ticklish to withstand!

With one foot done, he gently placed my leg back down and picked up the other foot. I hoped he hadn't been able to see up my skirt as he did, but I realized the chances were, from where he was sitting, that he might have. Still, I was kind of OK with that, if only just – to be honest, the massaging had lulled me into such a deliciously relaxed state which, helped along by the soothing effects of the beer, had me feeling quite mellow indeed.

I took another sip of my beer as Darren began to massage my other foot. I felt such a sense of relief and satisfaction as his fingers worked their magic – isn't it strange how when you get, say, your foot massaged, and while that foot is luxuriating under the manipulation, the other foot almost seems to be crying out for attention? That's how it felt, so when Darren got going on the second foot, it was just, aahhh...

He kept at it for a little longer as I felt myself slumping down a little in the seat, so thoroughly relaxed. One hand was cupping my heel, massaging it firmly, while the other drifted up my leg, along my calf. I wasn't sure that this was such a good idea, but it did feel oh so good. His thick, slightly rough fingers massaged firmly up my calf muscle, gently kneading the muscle, but not too hard. God, yes that felt good! I felt so relaxed that, had the circumstances not been on the verge of being inappropriate and I had not felt the need to be on my guard, I am quite sure I would have drifted off into a blissful slumber.

Soon Darren switched to my other leg, starting again with the ankle and rubbing his way up my calf. The way he pushed his knuckles into my outer leg and ran them down the outer muscle, his touch was spot on – just hard enough, and nor too soft either. 

In the meantime Ron's back massage had been continuing, which only contributed to my state of relaxed bliss. I felt like telling them they could earn good money as masseurs with their skills if I hadn't been worried they might take it the wrong way.

Ron's hands soon moved up to my shoulders. They were particularly sore after the gym weights session. Ah yes, that's it, he was getting right into the area, between my neck and shoulders. God, this man seems to KNOW my body. After a little while his hands drifted up to my neck, his fingers gently manipulating the muscles at the back of my neck. So softly; ooh, it almost tickled! He was giving me goose bumps! Then after a little while of this his hands slid down my neck he ran his fingers inside my blouse, so that his hands and fingers were now gently rubbing the bare skin of my shoulders. My blouse was fairly loose fitting, and the fact that the top button was undone must have provided him enough clearance to get his hands inside.

He wasn't doing anything more than he had been doing before, simply massaging my shoulders, no more, but ohhh, the feeling of his hands against my naked skin on my neck and shoulders – it had hit me like a jolt! So delicious... His slow sensuous massage continued, and I continued to luxuriate in it. But I knew this was wrong, this was not proper at all – especially now that his fingers were in direct contact with the straps of my bra! And soon I felt his fingers slide under the straps. I felt my body tense as he gently slipped the straps down and slid them over my arms, allowing him to gain unimpeded access to my shoulders. And it did feel nicer that way, oh yes it did, even though a part of me was starting to have serious misgivings about this. Yet it wasn't as though he had removed my bra or touched me inappropriately. Still, I would have to stop this soon.

This would have to stop. This was not the done thing – these were work associates, and one had his hands inside my blouse, the other was massaging my legs. Worse, their attentions were really heating me up. Really heating me up. As the two guys lovingly rubbed my skin, the more I relaxed they made me feel, the wetter I was becoming. I could feel my nipples stiffening, could feel my breath quickening, so much so that I had to consciously control my breathing, slow it down, so neither of them could see that what they were doing was making me aroused – I was worried what they might do if they knew. Yet it was as though my body and my mind were involved in dual and conflicting conversations: my brain was saying 'stop, you shouldn't be doing this, stop it right now', but my body was thinking something else entirely. My physical being felt overheated, tingling all over. 

Meanwhile Darren's foot massage continued. Well, by now it was really a leg massage, and now that he'd thoroughly soothed my feet and calf muscles, he was drifted further upwards, his hands now sliding across my knee and reaching into my lower thigh muscles. As he reached up to rub his fingers into my thighs, he shifted forward in his chair. So that my foot, lying on his thighs, brushed briefly against his crotch. Oh God, my foot had brushed against him – and he was hard! And just as he moved in that little bit closer, so that the arch of my foot was nestled against his member as he massaged my lower thigh, I felt Ron's hands slide down the front of my collar bone, gently massaging the skin above my breasts, inching lower, till I could tell his finger tips had reached the top of the cups of my bra. Ooh, how great that felt! My pussy throbbed, my nipples bristled, almost aching for him to plunge his hands down and grab my breasts hard. Darren's cock felt so big against my foot, and almost before I realized myself what I was doing I noticed that I was actually wiggling my toes against it! And yet even as a part of me was thrilled to the core at the notion that this man's cock was hard, that I had made it hard, panic began to overwhelm me as I realized that if I didn't stop this now, there was no telling where it might end up! God, it had already gone too far – I simply cannot get involved like this with work associates! Anne, I thought to myself: what are you doing! It had to stop. Now! 

I sat up and pulled my leg from Darren's thighs, signaling clearly and firmly that the massage was done. 

"Thanks guys, that was a very nice massage. I feel a lot better now." 

"Glad to be of service!" Darren said. I got up and stretched, leaning across to switch off his computer. Darren and Ron were packing up their gear. 

"I've got to go to the bathroom," said Darren. "Back in a minute." 

"Hey, could you bring some more beers on your way back?" said Ron. Darren nodded as he left of the room. For a moment I wondered what he might be doing in the bathroom – attending to that hard cock of his, perhaps? I had a little laugh to myself as I pondered that thought.

I was packing up my stuff when I felt Ron's hands on my lower back. 

"Just stay like that a minute, Anne," he said. "Now that you're standing I can give your lower back muscles a bit of a massage." 

I felt it would be churlish to refuse, and in any case I had diffused the situation as it had been before when both of them were massaging me. A little lower back rub – why not? I certainly needed it. 

And yes, his touch was fantastic. He began to manipulate the muscles firmly with his thumbs, using his fingers and palms as kind of anchors across the sides of my back. Ooh, yes, that felt good, so good... I leaned across to place my hands on the desk as he worked his magic; up, then back to the base of my spine, then up again, in a kind of circular motion. This went on for a minute or so when I realized that Ron's hands were beginning their 'stroke' lower and lower down my body, moving down my back gradually, so that each time his hands were straying down onto the top of my ass just that little bit more. Bent over a little, my ass kind of almost pointing up at him, I hoped he wouldn't get the wrong idea. 

But then I felt him grab my ass, rubbing his hands all over, gently feeling it, as if assessing its firmness. Ooh God, his hand is on my ass! But still I hadn't said a word! I was almost embarrassed that he had taken such liberties, but ooh it felt so good! Then I felt his hand stray lower, down below the hem of my skirt, until his hand was on my bare upper thigh. The memory of the beach came flooding back into my mind as my body luxuriated in his touch; it was as though his fingers almost burned into my skin, sending a message of wanton desire straight to my pussy. I was wetting myself. Oh God, his hand was on my upper thigh, fingers gently touching, tickling...

My pussy throbbed under the feeling of his finger on the bare skin of my thighs. But my mind was in turmoil. Anne, I thought to myself: what are you doing! Stop him! 

Still not wanting to make a big deal of this, but desperate to put an end to it, I kind of shook him off me and made to get up. But his free hand grabbed my hips and held me in place. The nerve of this guy! It was as if he was daring me to struggle, to make a scene. 

"Ron, stop. Please." I said firmly. 

"Oh come on Anne, it's just a little massage. We both know how much you enjoy a massage." There was a slight hint of the sardonic in his tone which I didn't like at all. 

"Come on," he said, as his hand returned to my upper thigh, languidly rubbing it up and down, tickling, "you liked it at the beach didn't you?" 

"Yes, but no!" I said confusingly, feeling my cheeks glow red with embarrassment that he had mentioned 'the beach'. "Ron, I'm asking you please, just stop." 

But he wasn't stopping. His left hand was anchoring my hip now as his other hand began to roam all over my ass. Oh God, but that did feel good! But I wished he would stop! I could just let go of the table and dart away from him, but something was holding me back. Was it just that I didn't want things to be uncomfortable – but weren't they anyway? – or did he have some kind of power over me? Or was it that I just liked it too much? And oh yes, I was loving this, the attention, his skilled hands, reveling even in my shame, yes, I had to admit, somehow getting off on the fact that I shouldn't be letting a work colleague take advantage of me like this. It was so wrong!

His hand drifted to my inner thigh now. God, he was close to my pussy – God, this was just like last time at the beach! And just like last time, my pussy was aching for his touch. Oh please stop him! But my body didn't care what kind of turmoil my mind was in, what kind of highly improper personal interaction I seemed to be letting myself slide inexorably towards. My pussy wanted only one thing, and its desires seemed to be overpowering, almost consuming my conscious mind. 

I was panting now, so heavily that I could barely conceal it. His hand was reaching between my legs. Then I felt it – his hand cup my pussy. Ooh God! My body was in exultation, as if in triumph as my conscious mind sank in shame, defeat. Oh my God, I'm letting him feel me up - and he will know, he will feel how wet I am! His fingers grazed lightly across my lips, sliding gently along the now wet material of my panties. He just kept rubbing me; oohh, but his touch was so light, his fingers gently rubbing up and down, almost tickling me... I felt my lips opening under his touch, moistening, getting wetter... Ooh, I wished he would stop doing this to me! Please! 

Then suddenly I felt my skirt raise – with his other hand he'd yanked it up around my waist! Oh God, no...

"Ron, please!" I pleaded, trying to shake free. "Don't!" 

"Anne, are you sure?" he whispered into my ear, his breath hot on my neck. I could smell his sweat, male sweat. "Your pussy is all wet." 

But he was right, as ashamed as it made me feel. I was wet. I was on fire. All the while I was telling him 'no', my body was saying the opposite as I felt his fingers slide under the elastic of my g-string, until I felt his bare hands rubbing gently up and down my shamefully slick lips. Oh God, he was touching me! His fingers felt like velvet. I was so wet, they just slid effortlessly along my slick, craving pussy. Ooohhh... I felt so ashamed of myself. 

"Mmm, nice," he said, as his finger probed my opening. "Just spread you legs a little bit for me."

When I didn't respond he roughly pushed my legs apart, and as he did he pushed his finger inside me. Oohh... 

My brain tried to reconcile the situation, tried to act. My skirt was my around my hips. I was bent over the table, legs spread, and Ron was gently fucking me with his finger. Ron, my client. And I seemed to be letting him. And I was wet for him. Soo wet for him. I wanted him so much! But I couldn't! No! 

But the more he kept that slow rhythm of his finger sliding gently in and out, gently touching me, the less and less I felt I had any power to stop him. I wasn't doing anything to stop him other than my feeble, pathetic protests. I felt my hips arch back against him, almost of their own volition, as if trying to coax him further inside. No, my mind screamed, I cannot be doing this! 

Then he withdrew his hand, and I almost sighed in relief as the torment to my brain ceased. But it wasn't over, I realized, as I felt his fingers slide under the material of my panties. He peeled them over my thighs till they got caught around my knees, the elastic stretched tight against the opening of my legs. His hand returned to my pussy, his fingers feeling my wetness, my lips; I felt him touch my clit ring and I felt a sudden surge of shame – oh God, he knows I've got a clit ring! 

"Hey, nice jewelry Anne!" he whispered softly into my ear as he fingered the ring, squeezing my clit, tugging lightly on the ring. Bent over the table, as I looked down I could actually see him doing it. Such a vulgar sight, my bare pussy with a ring pierced through my clit. How could I be behaving like such a slut? And letting Ron play with it! 

Hs finger returned to my opening. It slid inside with such ease. And yes, it felt so good! Ooh, he was gently probing me, and then I felt him plunge deeply inside! He started roughly fucking me with his finger, and my hands gripped the table tightly under his assault. Oh God, I was giving in, my defenses were weakening, disappearing almost completely. I still managed a meek 'No!' but that was a pathetic sham; my body was doing the talking now, and the itch in my loins was deepening. God, I could feel myself, oh no, I could feel that sweet release coming, not far away... No! 

Then, suddenly I seemed to open my eyes to see Darren standing there in front of us! God, I'd almost forgotten about him! How long he'd been there I don't know, but God, he was seeing me like this! His sudden presence jolted me back to reality. I felt like I would die, die of shame. There was no mistaking the situation now; absolutely no ambiguity. His work buddy had me over the table, my skirt up around my waist, panties pulled down, and fucking me with my finger – and I must have looked like I was loving it. And the sad fact was – I was loving it! 

Darren was watching me with a strangely serious look on his face. He looked shocked.

"Ron, no!" I suddenly yelled. But as the words echoed through my head, he just held me harder, his finger still sliding effortlessly in and out, in and out. 

"Honey, your brain might be saying no, but your body's saying something else." 

Then I felt Ron jerk me away from the table, so that now I was almost fully upright. With my legs now together there was nothing to hold my panties around my knees and I felt them slip down my legs to the floor. Ron saw it too. He lifted my legs, one after the other, so that I could step out of my panties. That I actually helped him do it, I almost couldn't believe myself. What was I doing? 

Darren was still standing there in front of me, saying nothing. I glanced down at Darren's body there in front of me – I was too ashamed of myself to look him in the eye – and I saw the huge bulge in his trousers.

Then Ron pushed me down, down to the floor. I sunk down, down onto the polished hardwood floor of the boardroom, down, as if trying to disappear. With my legs together, I could feel my juices coating my thighs. God, how could it be, how could I be so wet for them, acting like a slut in front of my clients? Tears welled in my eyes as I contemplated my degradation, and as I knew what was coming. It seemed almost inevitable now. I looked up at them and I saw Ron grinning menacingly down at me. I watched as his pulled down his zipper. He unclasped his belt and dropped his pants. His huge, thick cock sprang free like some kind of beast. He smiled as he took his cock into his hands and gently stroked it. It was hard, thick, shinning with wetness. It was right in front of my face. It looked huge, powerful. God, no, my mind screamed. No, don't let this happen! Not with my clients! 

"Give me your hand, Anne," he said, with a certain authority in his tone that I'd never noticed before. I lifted my arm up to him. He took my hand and placed in on his cock. So warm. So hard. So wet. I held it in my hand. I felt my hand slide along it a little, sliding on the wetness. The skin of his cock was so soft, yet underneath so hard. Somehow it felt like the first penis I had ever seen. I watched as my hand began to slide up and down. It was somehow mesmerizing, as though I was watching all of this take place from some vantage point, as if I was watching a movie, rather than being a participant. But I was the star player, and this was real; his cock was right there, right there in my hand, right in front of my face. I looked up at him. Up at his big hairy balls hanging down, his cock, and above that his face. He was smiling. He looked pleased. 

My palm was now sticky with his precum. I could not help but glide my clenched palm up and down it; it was as though my hand was somehow magnetized to his member. I squeezed it, and watched as another bead of clear sticky liquid oozed out of the head. God, I could hardly believe it - I felt my mouth watering as I saw it shining on the end of his cock, like some kind of exotic, irresistible nectar. I felt my own juices seeping through my pussy once more. I lifted my head towards his cock. The head was a few inches in front of my face, weeping fluid, enormous. 

"Suck it," he commanded. I looked up at him, shocked that he was say that. But then what should I expect in such a situation. His cock was in my hand. Darren was standing there alongside of him. He was rubbing his cock through his pants. It felt like the ultimate degradation, as low as I could possibly sink. In my mind it was utterly inconceivable that I could possibly contemplate taking Ron's cock into my mouth, under any circumstances, least of all like this, in the boardroom of his company, and with Darren right there with him – and with Darren rubbing what was no doubt his hard cock through his trousers... 




Car Show Slut Ch. 08



"Suck it babe!" Ron hissed. "Go on." 

My ears burned in shame that he was treating me like this – me! – and doing it in front of his work colleague! Making me act like a common tramp! But who was making me? My mind swam in a strange fog; for a moment I felt even more offended that he had called me 'babe' than the fact that he had forced me to touch his cock – and asked, more like demanded, that I suck it. 

What was I doing on my knees like this? Ron's cock in my hand, his work buddy watching me? I'm not going to suck his cock! I've got to get out of here! 

"No!" I half yelled as I made to pick myself up off the floor. But as I did I felt Ron's hands grab me firmly around the waist, holding me fast. His hand grabbed my ass as he pulled me hard against his body. I felt his hard cock pinned against the inside of my hips. My eyes were closed, I couldn't look at him. He released me, and as he did he began to rub his hands up and down the curves of my thighs and hips, up towards my tits. I just stood there, feeling powerless under his attentions. I watched him as he surveyed my body. I saw the lust in his eyes. Then his hands reached my tits, squeezing them gently, exploring their firmness. Before I even seemed to realize it he was unfastening the remaining buttons of my blouse. I seemed to have entered an unreal realm. I didn't want him to do it, to undo my blouse, I desperately didn't want it. I wanted to get out of here, away from them. But I seemed to be operating as if removed from my body, as if I was watching myself in a movie. As if I was drunk, except that I knew that I wasn't. He slid the blouse off my shoulders. His eyes fixed on my bra, then his hands reached for my tits again, again grabbing them, feeling them, his fingers clamping around my nipples twisting, twisting hard. 

I felt the clasp on the back of my bra spring loose. But it wasn't Ron; he was still kneading my tits. It was Darren. I felt Darren's hands pull the garment free from my shoulders, and Ron released his grasp and let the bra fall into his hands. My tits were naked. Naked for these two guys. 

"Hey, nice!" Ron grinned. "Pierced clit, pierced nipples. Anne Johnson, hot damn! Who would have thought!" 

I felt ashamed, ashamed at myself for letting them do this, ashamed that they were seeing my tits, seeing my piercings, and yet inwardly almost thrilled that they knew I had such done such vulgar, slutty things to my body, grotesque things that only a slut would do. 

I watched, passive as Ron ran his fingers over my nipple rings, a look of fascination in his eyes as he studied the steel insertions in my nipples. He licked his lips. His tongue was snaking around my left nipple. I felt his hot breath on my skin, while his fingers gently tweaked the other. Oh my God, oh yes that felt good! I couldn't help it! At the same time I felt my skirt go loose. Darren must have unzipped me. I tried to stop him but his hands were tightly round my ass as he slid it down over my hips. I felt it slide down my legs and fall against my feet. God, it had come to this, I was naked in front of them. They had undressed me and I had done virtually nothing to stop them. I was naked, and I was wet, almost panting with desire. And I could tell by the look in Ron's eye that he knew. He knew. That I was a slut. Only a slut would be doing this, like this, allowing this to happen. They were standing there ogling my body like it was some kind of glittering trophy, feeling up my tits, running a hand over my shaved pussy, touching my clit ring. And I couldn't help myself. 

I had almost forgotten that Ron's cock had been hanging out, exposed, the whole time they forced me to shed my clothes. But now he placed it in my hand. I felt him push my head down, pushing me down to the floor once more, until my knees were resting on the polished wood flooring of the boardroom. I looked up, and there in front of me was his cock: thick, hard, weeping pre-cum from the tip. 

"Suck it Anne," he said from above. "Go on, suck it. You know you want to." 

I felt defeated. I felt it was almost no longer in my power to say no. I had allowed them to undress me. I am naked on the floor in front of two guys with hard cocks. Ron's cock was right there, right in front of my face. I could even smell its musky aroma. I watched as a bead of precum slowly squeezed its way out of the wet, shining tip, like a slowly dripping tap. As if before it had even entered my head as a conscious decision, my tongue snaked out and licked the eye of his cock, licked it clean. Pulling my tongue back into my mouth, I savored the familiar salty taste. The taste of male. I looked back at his cock. It was still there, right there in front of me. Still hard. Still waiting. I pulled him closer to me and let the head of his cock touch against my lips. I kissed it. My lips parted and I felt the tapered tip of the head of Ron's cock gently slip between my opened lips. I licked the eye again with my tongue. Then I felt it push inside – he had shoved it deep into my mouth! I was thankful he hadn't tried to jam it down my throat, but my mouth was now well filled – filled with cock. He didn't move again after his initial thrust, and gradually I found myself moving against it, letting it slide out a little, and then pushing my mouth back over it, feeling the texture of the underside with my tongue, the tapered tip nudging the roof of my mouth, pusling. I heard him moan. I heard myself moan. Oh God, Ron's cock in my mouth...

"Oohh, that's it... Good girl. Ooh, God, I knew you'd be good..." 

That last comment had been directed at Darren, still there, watching. Watching me. Watching me suck his work buddy's cock. It was strange that I had been scarcely aware of him. I knew he was there, but he somehow seemed anonymous. Maybe I was in denial – denying the reality that I could actually be sucking a guy's cock while another man watched. But Darren was there, and he could see for himself. That I was a good, just like Ron knew I would be. A good little cock sucker. 

I looked up at Ron and watched his expression as my mouth plunged down on his cock again. So shameful, yes it was, extra shameful that I was somehow enjoying it, but somehow also satisfying to see the look of such exulted pleasure on his straining face as I sucked him. Pleasure that was my power to deliver. Slowly I began to focus on that notion: pleasure. Pleasuring Ron. Sucking his cock. Yes, he was right: I was a good cock sucker. 

I marveled at just how good, how right, Ron's cock felt in my mouth as I sucked him. So silky, so warm it felt as my mouth glided up and down it. Like my mouth was made for it, made to suck cock. But just as I was beginning to lose myself in the reverie of it, Ron withdrew his shaft from my mouth. 

"I think maybe Darren needs a bit of attention, too, don't you think?" Ron said. I looked up at Darren. He was standing there now, his cock in his hand, glaring down at me. I could no longer ignore his presence now. There were now two hard cocks right there in front of my face, waiting. Waiting to be sucked. It was my job to do it. 

Darren's cock was so thick. I wondered whether I would even be able to get it in my mouth. It shocked me to even think that I could have had such an idle thought – what about the gravity of this situation? My conscious mind kept storming back to the fact that here I am on my knees with two big hard cocks in my hand. That would be bad enough, but they happen to belong to work clients... 

But events had spun too far out of hand for that now. I had already disgraced myself too much. Darren's cock obviously needed to be sucked, and that was my job now. 

I still had my hand around Ron's cock. I reached for Darren with my other hand. I took his cock in my hand. How odd that felt, how impossibly lewd to have two hard cocks in my hand, but I just couldn't let go of Ron's shaft. I reached across and licked Darren's cock. The sensation of the dewy liquid of another man, the soft skin of man's cock, moments after I had just felt the same thing with another man, a different cock, it was almost incomprehensible, almost sent my brain into a spin. It was as if I could almost taste the difference between the two. I opened my mouth and let the thick head of Darren's shaft slide between my lips. The sensation of feeling it like that, poised, just inside my mouth, while my hand was wrapped around another cock, it was a notion in my brain of sheer incredulity – and it translated into an aching throb in my pussy as I felt myself moistening up inside, throbbing between my legs, wet; two hard cocks... 

I opened my mouth and let Darren's cock inside. It was thick, but I could manage it. I was almost proud of myself, my skills at sucking cock. And God, how wonderfully wicked it felt to rub my palm up and down one wet cock while sucking the other! I heard Darren moan. I felt, in a strange way, validated, even powerful. I sucked him hard, taking him in deep, stretching my mouth so I could savor as much as possible. I was glad that he didn't get carried away and start thrusting into me, because he might have choked me, but I felt a kind of weird sense of triumph as I held my breath and plunged down so far that I could feel his public hair tickling my lips and chin. My nose was up against his abdomen. I could smell his aroma, his sweat, the sheer scent of male arousal. It hit me like a jolt, straight to my pussy. I was beyond wet. Beyond help. The itch in my loins was growing in intensity. I almost felt like I would orgasm purely through sucking this man's cock. As for Darren, he seemed to be getting close himself. God, was he going to cum in my mouth? A vision flashed through my mind of him filling my mouth with his hot seed just as my own orgasm hit. Oohh God...

"She's good, isn't she?" Ron said. 

"Oh, yeah," Darren said with a stunted laugh. "Ooh yeah, suck it baby. God..." 

"She's loving it, too. Aren't you Anne?" 

I refused to dignify Ron's question with an answer, and in any case my mouth was full of Darren's cock. The absurdity of that notion almost didn't occur to me. The truth was, though, that my pussy was steaming. I was on fire, rapidly racing towards an orgasm. Was I loving it? As much as I should be hating it, shouldn't be doing it at all, yes, it was true. I was loving it. And I let him know by saying nothing and sucking harder on his cock. And I started jerking Ron harder. His hard shaft felt so fucking fantastic as it slid up and down through my wet hands. God, I wanted to feel them cum, feel Ron in my hand, throbbing spurting, feel Darren shoot his cum into my mouth... Ooh, I was panting hard; I felt myself moan as Darren began to thrust into my mouth. Ooohhh, yes, fuck! Cover me in cum! Do it! Do it! Do it! Flood my dirty slut mouth with cum like a fucking whore! Please! 

Oh God, I was so on the verge of cumming as I felt Darren's cock begin to swell – but then he suddenly withdrew it. 

"Hey, save it man," I heard Ron say. "I want to fuck her." 

I felt Ron roughly haul me to my feet, and then slam me down on the end of the desk. No, my brain screamed, don't let them fuck me! Don't let this go that far! But my body was saying something else again; literally thrilling at the idea of finally, finally being fucked by a big cock. No matter what went through my conscious mind, the undeniable and powerful fact was that my pussy was wet and open and ready. Ready to be fucked by two guys, for that was surely what was going to happen now. 

I felt Ron grab me from behind, roughly squeezing my ass. I felt his cock nudge against my leg as his hands came down to anchor my hips against the edge of the desk. I felt his wet cock slide up between my own wet, glistening thighs, felt the head nudge against my wet lips. Oh God, he was going to do it... 

"Do you want it, Anne? Do you want me to fuck you?" he said as the head of his cock slipped within my folds. Oohh... Did I want him to fuck me? It was all that I wanted! I wanted him to jam it in me, fuck me, punish me, punish me for making him work so late like this. I deserved it. Yes, fuck me. Fuck me! Do it! I need it! But I couldn't say it! I could not summon up the words, to actually ask him to do it. It would be an admission, a shameful confession that I was a slut, a slut so debased that she would even fuck her clients. My mind spun in turmoil – oh Annie, a voice inside seemed to be crying, what have you done! You've just sucked their cocks. You sucked their cocks! And now he's going to fuck you! Don't let him! How embarrassing, how humiliating – he's making you beg! God, I wished he would just do it. Please don't make me beg. Please! Just fuck me. Don't make me say it! 

"Come on baby, your cunt is wet. You need it, you need to be fucked, don't you? Look at you, naked, wet; you're begging for it. Anne, don't you want to feel me inside you? Hmm?"

As he spoke he was rubbing the head of his cock up and down my slit. Oohh, it was such exquisite torture, sparking surges of pleasure though my veins. I started to gently rock against him – ashamed that I was doing it, but I was beyond help, gone, a lost cause. My conscious mind was fast losing out; my body was taking control. The frustration was manifest; I just had to have him inside me, or, or... Oohhh!

"Yes! Yes! Yes! Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me please you fucking bastard!" 

"Good girl," I heard him laugh. And then I felt him. His cock plunge deep inside me. Oohh yes... Yeesss. Ooohh... So sweet, such relief... Ooh, my mouth flung open as I cried out in sheer joy at the feeling of finally being filled! - but just as I did so Darren grabbed my face and shoved his cock in my mouth. Somehow I hadn't counted on Darren doing anything except maybe watch; again somehow I was seemingly blanking him out of my mind. But now he was gently fucking my face as Ron began to penetrate me from behind with long languid strokes. He was holding my hips firmly as he thrust in and out; ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, he's fucking me, he's fucking me! Oh God, it had descended to this – I was being fucked by two men at once! 

Darren reached down and grabbed my breasts. I panicked a little, not because he was fondling my breasts – that seemed of minor significance compared to the rest of what was going on – but because I had to concentrate on breathing. 

"Anne, you've got great tits," Darren grunted as he assaulted my mouth. 

"Oh yeah, she's one hot little slut, aren't you baby?" Ron hissed and grunted as he passionately rammed me from behind. "Man, she's got the hottest ass. You should see what I can see back here." 

I should have been offended at their disgusting remarks. But my overheated brain seemed to focus only on the compliments, such as they were. Hot little slut. Oh, hot little slut – my clit throbbed at his words. Yes, look at me, bent over a desk, being fucked, and sucking another guy's cock... What a fucking dirty slut... Ooh, I can't believe it, I can't believe I am doing this; Darren's big cock is in my mouth and Ron is inside me! I felt my body gently rock against the thrusting of the two of them. My body felt like a little rag doll pinned down by the two men. 

"Hey let me have a piece of that," I heard Darren say. "Let's swap." 

I near writhed in agony as they both pulled out of me, as Ron walked around to my front and Darren went behind me. Oh God, they're actually going to swap places...

"Oh Anne," said Ron as he lined his cock up at my mouth, "You got no idea how horny that looks when your pretty face is filled my cock. Damn!

"Go on Darren, fuck her. Fuck her hard. Give it to the slut. She wants it." 

Slut. That's what I was to them. Just a cheap dirty little fuck toy to enjoy as they pleased. And I felt that reality deep within my being: I wasn't their marketing expert, the person hired for her brains and experience and insight to help them sell their product. That's what I should be. But they are taking me and I am letting them. Fuck her hard. Give it to the slut. How I could have sunk so far, that my nipples stiffened as they called me a slut? Yes, that's what I am, I'm a dirty little whore – yes, give it to me, give to me! Fuck me! 

I felt the fat head of Darren's cock slip inside my opening. I sighed as I felt it stretch me just a little. But I was so wet there was no trouble taking it. Ron saw the effect it had on me. He saw me sighing in pleasure as Darren's fat cock invaded my cunt. He saw it all. 

"That's it, you love it," Ron growled as he thrust his hips towards my face, rubbing his hard, wet cock almost playfully against my cheek, his hairy balls slapping against my chin. "Damn, who'd have thought that Anne Johnson was such a slut?" 

I almost cried out. My head felt like it would explode. Ron could see how much I wanted it how much I was enjoying it, how much I needed it; there was absolutely no denying it now; I could not conceal it. And I had told them to fuck me – I had begged them. 

Yet I couldn't lose myself in the moment. To my core I was ashamed, even as my body reveled in what was being done to me. I wanted them to stop, stop this, I wanted to disappear, turn back the clock until before this all started. With that Ron plunged into my mouth, hard. I could taste my own juices on him. I was beyond rational thought. The word 'slut' just kept hammering though my brain as the two men fucked me. Slut. He called me 'slut'. What other word was there? 

But even the very idea only pushed me further towards what my body craved: release. Yes, I was close to cumming as Darren grabbed my hips hard and started fucking me with such violence that Ron could hardly keep his cock in my mouth. He was hammering me: ooh, ooh ooh... Yes, his hands forcing my thighs into the desk as he pistoned his cock in and out, in and out, in and out, oohh, until I felt him tense up and growl. Oh, I could feel him cumming, pumping, thrusting his cum into me! It was the tipping point for my own orgasm, and I came only moments after he had finished dumping his seed inside me, flooding my aching, needing cunt. Oohh, yes! I screamed a guttural growl of joy as the sensation washed through my body. Oh God, it was just what I needed to the depths of my soul! 

My body was shaking, but just as my breathing began to stabilize, I could see that Ron was about to cum. I wanted him back in my mouth, but instead he grabbed his cock and started pumping it. I watched, fascinated the way his arm muscles flexed as he worked away on his shaft, the way his face grimaced almost as if in pain as the moment approached. Then he was there. His cock was literally inches from my face, and I watched as the eye contracted and then sprayed out the first ropes of white liquid, his cum landing on my face, my chin my lips. It was such a powerful thing to witness his ejaculation; and I felt such power at having made him cum. His seed was all over my face, the pungent smell all pervasive. To be covered in his cum seemed so dirty, so depraved, but I found myself running my hands through the stick white globs, feeling his essence on my skin, smelling it, tasting it. I slumped onto the table, exhausted, sated. I would almost have gone to sleep, but from the corner of my eye I noticed the two of them were getting dressed. No one was saying anything. 

Ron helped me to my feet. Helped me step back into my panties. I pulled my skirt back on and slipped my blouse over my shoulders. I stuffed my bra into my bag. I looked at my watch. It was midnight. 

"We'd better get going," said Ron, with a casualness that seemed inappropriate given what had just happened. 

"Yeah," said Darren, looking at the ground as he straightened his tie.

"We'll call you tomorrow, let you know how the meeting went," said Ron. 

"Yes, of course," I said. I didn't know what else to say. It was a strange end to the night. I wouldn't say necessarily awkward, but very strange. Either way, though I was ashamed at what had just happened, ashamed to the core, I felt like something had changed inside me. I had crossed a line somehow. I was different now, and I had the sense that nothing would ever be the same again. 



Car Show Slut Ch. 09



Oh God. What had I done! Ron and Darren just fucked me! I sobbed as I made my way back to the car, but I was in a kind of daze. It wasn't until the next day when the full realization of what had happened really hit me. I felt dirty, used. They had used me like a common whore. And I had let them do it. Even worse, if that could be possible, next week I would have to face them again when we finalized the presentation. Oh Anne, how could you! How could you have sunk to this? This! 

Why do I let these things happen? I couldn't understand it, couldn't reconcile it within my own image of myself. It was like I was another person. It had even felt like that at the time; I remembered feeling almost detached from myself, as if watching it all happening: the way they manhandled me, forced me, their hard cocks, their cocks that were hard because of me. 

But that was the double shame in all this. Because, I had to admit, just as much as I hated it, it wasn't as though they had raped me. I was a willing participant. Yes, I felt dirty and cheap, violated, degraded, unspeakably degraded. But at the time I actually liked it. I loved it, it was true. How it felt, how they were hard for, how they wanted me, wanted to fuck me like I was just a dirty slut. Oh, and how they did fuck me! How they shoved their hard cocks in my mouth, watching me. And I let them because I wanted them to. Wanted it like a slut. What a shameful slut I was for them. Forever onwards, no matter what brilliance I managed to come up with on behalf of my firm, for Ron and Darren I was nothing more than a little slut prepared to spread her legs for them and suck their cocks. And even now, thinking about it, their hard male bodies ramming into me, their cocks, using me, my pussy was tingling in the memory of it, just as my mind shuddered in disgust and shame. I felt as if I was sinking, in some kind of inexorable downward spiral. 

Maybe I need some professional help, I thought to myself. A shrink. No. Shrinks were for mixed up losers. That's not what I am. And how could I tell some shrink that I have been going round acting like a cheap slut? I couldn't. Oh Anne, get a grip! 

I was dreading the next day at work. I would have to talk to Ron. By mid morning I'd received an email from him to say that the reworked campaign did the trick. That was good, and I was relieved. But I needed to talk to him. I got him on the phone. 

"So it went well?" I asked coolly, bracing myself. 

"Yeah, they bought it," he said. He sounded a little tense, though not as tense as I was feeling. "We're in the clear. Now we've just got to massage it into something more substantial."

'Massage' it, indeed, I thought to myself. What a sleaze. I felt my blood starting to boil. 

"Ron," I said firmly, "we need to talk. About last night."

"Well... um, yeah?" 

"Listen. I don't want either you or Darren to breathe a word of what happened. Not a word. I'm deadly serious. I know you're married, and if word gets out, I'll make sure you-know-who also knows about it. And make sure Darren understands exactly what I've just said, too. OK?"

"Anne, you don't need to worry. I understand where you're coming from. I guess none of us needs anyone else to know about it, and you won't have to worry about Darren. He's got a wife, too, you know." 

"Charming," I said. 

"Well," he continued, "it was just something that happened. No one needs to know." 

He paused on the line.

"Anne."

"What." 

"That was wild, last night, really wild." 

"Hmm," I said, not really knowing what to say. "Look, I don't really want to talk about it any further. Just keep me informed of the status of the campaign. I don't wish to speak about last night again."

"OK, sure." 

He hung up. That wasn't too bad, I thought to myself. It was something that 'just happened', and really, if it was all that traumatic, I needn't have let it happen. I let things get out of hand, I did. I must try to make sure I have a better grip on things in the future. And he sounded sincere in saying that he wouldn't tell anyone. God, if word got out about this, apart from the embarrassment, it might wreck my career!

I spent the weekend cleaning the apartment, top to bottom, a kind of penance for my sins, but also an effective form of physical and emotional therapy. I busied myself, throwing myself into the job. And it was a big job. I do like a clean home, and as I dusted around the furniture I realized how I had much I had neglected the place of late. It took almost the whole of Saturday by the time I had cleaned the apartment and moved out onto the balcony, where my collection of potted plants lay near dying through lack of water. I grabbed a bucket and gave them a much-needed drink. Hopefully it would revive them. 

While doing so I heard a shuffling of papers nearby. It was my neighbor, old Mr Darcy from the apartment next door, out on his balcony. The balconies of this apartment block only had half partitions, it wasn't a fully private situation with the design of the building, and Mr Darcy had filled the remaining space above the wall with some lovely tropical shrubs. It gave the balcony a rather nice ambience, as well as providing a veneer of privacy between us. His plants were certainly doing a lot better than mine, I thought to myself as I surveyed the scorched earth of my own plants, but then as a retired old man he did have plenty of time on his hands for such domestic pursuits. He waved at me from across the lush greenery. 

"Hello Anne, lovely to see you. A spot of spring cleaning?" 

I hadn't seen my neighbor much lately. He was a lovely old man. English, with a very proper accent, very charming. He lived alone. I had never seen a woman there with him; presumably his wife had died some time ago. Not surprising, I thought; how old was Mr Darcy? I didn't know, but he was certainly well into his twilight years. 

"Hi Mr Darcy. Yes, bit of weekend cleaning. As you can see, I've kind of neglected my potted plants a little, I'm afraid." 

"Oh well, never mind. You're obviously a very busy young lady. But I haven't seen you around much lately. You haven't been doing your morning exercises and I was worried that you might have taken ill."

"Oh no," I said, slightly touched at his concern. I had often wondered whether or not he had been watching me go through my yoga routines. I often had the sense that someone was there behind the trees. I wondered now whether or not he had seen me when I was doing them naked. Oh well, no harm done if he had. 

"Just been a bit busy," I continued. 

"Pity," he said. "I must confess, dear lady, that your daily calisthenics bring me great pleasure. Please forgive my boldness, but seeing a beautiful young lady as yourself performing her morning exercises is a rare delight for an old man." 

"Why thank you Mr Darcy," I said, slightly shocked at his candor, and not really knowing what else to say in reply. Actually, were it anyone else, I'd probably have been mighty offended. But Mr Darcy was such a sweet old gentleman. If my yoga had been brightening up his existence, more's the better. 

"I just hope I'm not disturbing you so early in the morning," I said. 

"Oh no, my dear, not at all!" he said. "Young lady, at my age sleep does not come easy and nor, sadly, I must confess, is it long lasting. Most days I'm sitting out here enjoying my cup of tea as the first bird of the morning sings. Please, my dear, do not stop your exercises on my account! On the contrary, I do so wish you would do them every day!" 

"Well," I laughed, "maybe I should." 

We chatted on for a little while longer before Mr Darcy 'retired' to his living room. What a lovely old man. Cheeky – cheekier than I could ever remember him being, but charming. I liked him. Strange, though, that I wasn't offended that he had been virtually spying on me. Well, by the sound of it he had been spying on me. But I wasn't offended. Well, it was not as though he was being a dirty old man and being sneaky about it – he just straight out told me he'd been watching me. And it's not as though he was any kind of threat; the poor old guy couldn't have that many more years left in him. I didn't know how old he was, but he had to be pushing 80. No, if my yoga exercises brought dear old Darcy 'great pleasure', so what? And he was right: I hadn't been doing them much lately. I had almost forgotten about my morning yoga ritual. I had really been letting myself go. 

I was feeling a little better after my chat with Mr Darcy. The apartment was spic 'n span, and all of a sudden I felt somehow settled, at peace, back home. I curled up on the sofa for a night in front of the TV. 

A little later on the phone rang. It was my friend, Wendy. I hadn't seen her in a few weeks, not since she and Roger announced their engagement. 

"So how's tricks hun'?" she said. 

"Yeah, OK. Busy as ever."

"That's no good. Girl, you never seem to relax, you're always working! But hey, are you doing anything tomorrow? Rog and I are going to the beach. It's gonna be a hot day. Want to join us?" 

"Sure. Love to." 

"Great. I can't talk long, got a roast in the oven. Meet us at our place at about 10. OK? Good. See ya." 

A cleansing day at the beach, sun, sand, surf and relaxation – what a great idea. Perfect. I went to bed feeling much, much better. 

I slept well that night; in bed early and waking up late. I felt good, nicely rested. I had my morning coffee and dressed into my black bikini, the one I had bought for the Buck's Night. Oh God, the Buck's Night for Roger's brother, where I had been the drinks girl... Never mind, that was all in the past now, and I had already made my peace with Roger over that. It was all in the past. 

I was about to throw on my wraparound and grab my things when I remembered my conversation with Mr Darcy. I hadn't done my morning yoga... But should I? Knowing that he'd be there waiting to spy on me? He was probably out there right now. I looked at the clock. There was time for it. Oh heck, why not? 

My bikini would be fine for yoga – and I certainly wasn't going to do it nude again. I grabbed my yoga mat and opened the balcony doors. As I laid the mat on the floor, I heard a rustling of papers from behind the row of trees. Yes, he was there alright.  

I laid out and went through an abbreviated routine – I didn't have all that much time. It felt good, physically invigorating. I hadn't done my yoga in a little while. But it also felt good on another level. Someone was watching me. Watching my body, enjoying it. I glanced down across my tits, down to my hips. Yes, I thought to myself, I look good. My body looks real good. And Mr Darcy thinks so, too. He's watching me now, and old man watching, admiring a near naked young woman, who is doing nothing more than innocently going through her yoga regime – her 'daily calisthenics', as Mr Darcy had so cutely put it. It would be wrong to say that it felt naughty, but there was something about it!

Time to go. I headed inside and grabbed my gear. 

Wendy and Roger had just moved into a new apartment. Lovely place, too, bigger than mine, and in a nicer part of town, not that there was anything wrong with my place.

"Hey Anne, good to see you!" Wendy said with a flourish and a hug as she greeted me at the door. "Rog will be just a minute. Hey Rog, let's get going!"

"Coming hun," I heard him say.

Soon we were on our way, in their car, me in the back seat. 

"So, you guys go out last night?" I asked. It was good to see them again, and see them looking so happy. They had a hand on each other's leg as they sat up front. 

"Yeah," said Wendy. "It's Rog's birthday – well, next week actually – so I took him out to see a burlesque show." 

"A burlesque show?" I asked. "What's that?" 

"It's a show, like a cabaret. It's kind of a strip show, except they don't go past their underwear. It's a retro thing, really quite the in thing at the moment, so I'm told. You know, like all those voluptuous movie stars from the '50s, Marilyn Monroe, Jayne Mansfield – it's kind of like that. I don't really know how to explain it, but it's not sleazy or anything. I thought, since it's Roger's birthday, it would be something a bit different and he would enjoy it, and I think he did." 

Roger was nodding in the driver's seat. It looked like he had enjoyed it. 

"Actually," Wendy continued, "it was really well done, quite a funny show. And sexy, too. Rog, did you think it was sexy?" She gave his leg a little squeeze.

"Oh yeah, it was sexy," he laughed. 

As we headed out of town the conversation drifted away as we settled into the journey, taking in the sights along the way as we passed through the outer 'burbs. It was a fine, warm day, and people were out and about doing things. 

I watched as we approached a group of cyclists. I watched them as they hauled ass up a small hill, all those muscle-bound young males, their thin, brightly colored lycra cycle wear, their tight asses gently swaying to and fro as their legs pumped hard up and down the pedals, up and down in a solid, driving rhythm. As we got closer to them I could see their arm muscles flexing as they gripped the handlebars to anchor themselves as they pedaled, pedaled hard, big thigh muscles straining, pumping. I found myself almost in a languid daydream as I watched them, as if treated to my own private little show. Mmm, such rhythm, such power in their hot young male bodies...

As we left them behind, it occurred to me that only a short time ago I wouldn't have thought of the cyclists in such a way; wouldn't have focused on the physicality of them. It would have simply been a group of cyclists out for a ride that we were passing. But everything seemed to be sexualized lately. I seemed to see people, perceive them, in a different way. I had been aware of it just the other day, when strolling through the mall during my lunch break. Watching the passing parade, I found myself focusing on good looking young men in business suits, noticing the shape of a nicely formed neck and shoulders. Watching the way a guy walked, the way his ass and legs moved in a certain definite rhythm, concentrating on the way the material of his suit pants shifted and creased as he walked. And it wasn't just the cute young guys. There was a woman who fairly captured my attention; dressed in a black business suit, conservative, yet stylish and sexy, really very striking. I watched her walking through the mall in her elegant black pumps, her dark curly shoulder-length hair and full, thick red lips. There was a magnetic quality about her; I couldn't take my eyes of her. She looked up and must have caught me staring. She smiled. It was probably nothing more than an innocent smile, but I felt my nipples bristling as she looked me in the eye and smiled. Such sparkling dark eyes! I felt like I wanted to go up to her, place my hands on those perfectly formed cheek bones, run my fingers through her dark curls and place my lips on hers... I didn't, of course, and soon she was gone. But it was how I felt, deeply; what I really wanted to do. 

Oh well, I thought to myself as we neared our destination, already feeling a little flushed, if I seemed to be developing a view of the world around me that is more physical, more sexual, then what better place for me to be than the beach? 

Soon we were there. It was the perfect day for it; already it was quite warm, and I was looking forward to the feeling of the cool salt water enveloping my body. If the surf was not too rough, I might even do some laps of the beach. 

Evidently Wendy and Roger weren't up for such physical pursuits; they'd brought a hamper of food and some excellent wine for us to enjoy: relaxation all the way with this pair. We found a nice spot and spread out our things. The beach was not too crowded, although it was still quite early.

"Who's up for a dip?" I said, peeling off my wraparound. 

"Absolutely!" Wendy said, stripping off her skirt and t-shirt. Roger was wearing little speedos rather than surf shorts, and I had to admit he looked good. He had a better body than I'd imagined.

We played around in the water for a while, but since the surf was nice and flat I left them there and went for a nice long swim down the beach. When I returned Wendy and Roger were lying on their towels, sipping a glass of wine. 

"How civilized!" I smiled, as Wendy handed me a plastic cup. "Very nice indeed!" I sipped my wine and laid down on my towel, letting the heat of the midday sun dry my wet skin. We chatted about the latest celebrity sex scandal to hit the gossip columns, although I had to admit I hadn't really been following the drama with any great interest. 

It was getting hot. Wendy reached into her bag for her sunscreen. With her fair complexion, she was going to need the protection. She was lying on her stomach, trying to apply the cream to her back. 

"Anne, could you do my back?" she asked. "I'm not as flexible as I used to be!"

"Sure." 

I squeezed out some of the white cream and began rubbing it into her back. I could feel that she had quite muscular shoulders, something I'd never noticed before. Actually, Wendy looked good. I knew she had great legs, but seeing her here like this, practically naked, and touching her skin, yes, she had a fantastic figure. 

Roger's head was buried in a book. Well, he was face down in the book, because evidently he had fallen asleep. The snoring we could soon hear confirmed it. 

"Listen to him," Wendy said. "But I'm not surprised. We didn't actually do a lot of sleeping last night!" she giggled. 

"Lucky you!" I grinned, as I rubbed my hands up and down her back, her skin beginning to take on a glistening sheen against the sun. 

"Mmm, yeah," she purred. "God, Anne, you know I can't believe it, what we did last night!" 

"Ooh, do tell!" I said, wondering now exactly what this pair did get up to. It sounded interesting! 

"Oh, I don't know if I should," she said, cagey all of a sudden, as rubbed my hands into her lower back muscles. "Ooh, that feels good. You have to do my legs after you're done there." 

"Well, OK," I said, "but only if you tell me what you and Roger did last night." 

"OK, deal. Oh Anne, I can hardly believe it - he fucked me in the ass!" 

"Oh Wendy!" 

"Oh yeah! He did. It wasn't expected or planned, and we'd never even talked about it before. But we just got real carried away, and then all of a sudden... I've never done that before!" 

"Me neither," I said. "So, it was good?" 

"Yes! It hurt at first, but once you get used to it, it's... ooh!" 

We both giggled. 

I was just about done with her back, but I had to admit it had taken a lot longer than it need have. Really, I was giving her a massage as much as I was rubbing sunscreen into her body, but it just felt like a nice thing to do. It was nice to make her feel relaxed, and it felt nice to run my hands over her skin. And it felt nice to feel Wendy's body. She had a very nice bod. Very nice. 

"Oh that's great Anne," she said. "Sooo relaxing. You're gonna make me fall asleep, just like Mr Buzzsaw over there." We both laughed. 

"OK, I said, "all done." 

"But my legs, my legs need doing too," she pleaded in mocking tones. 

"OK," I said. And I did want to do her legs. She has fine legs, beautiful, shapely. Sexy. And they needed to be protected from the sun's rays, especially for a fair-skinned redhead like Wendy. I started with her feet. 

"Ooh, that tickles!" she giggled. 

"Just relax, Wen," I said, pausing, my hand cupping her feet. Soon I was able to continue my, well, my massage, for that's what it was, but my mind kept going back to what she had just told me. Frankly, I was a little shocked. I mean, I didn't think Wendy was a prude, but she'd never openly given me such intimate details of her private life before. It just somehow seemed a little out of character. I thought I would quiz her a little more about it. 




Car Show Slut Ch. 09



"So, Wen, do you feel any different today? I mean, you kinda lost your virginity for a second time last night!" 

She chuckled. "Yeah, guess so, if you think of it like that! Well, I am a bit sore, but that's probably too much information! But yeah, I do somehow feel different." 

Now I was working my way up her calves. God, her legs felt so good in my hands! Perfectly shaped, toned, not an ounce of fat. 

"Wen, you've got great legs, you know," as my fingers reached the top of her calves. "Have you been working out?" 

"Thanks. Yeah, I have a bit. I was making an effort because I wanted to look my best for the wedding, but I think I've become addicted to exercise. It's a great release." 

"Yeah, you do need it, I find. It's the best thing for working off stress. Yoga's good too." 

"Yeah, a lot of people say that, but it's a bit too alternative for me." 

Now I was up to her thighs. Yes, she had certainly been working out. Her tight thigh muscles felt fantastic as my fingers rubbed their way up and down. I could not deny it that I was enjoying this on a level other than friendship, but the fact that I found my close friend sexy wasn't anything she needed to deal with, and I certainly was not going to make a pass at her of any kind whatsoever. I happen to find that my friend has a sexy body – so what? Lots of people are sexy. But I did feel a little uncomfortable about this, I couldn't deny it. As far as my friend was concerned, she was getting an innocent massage. But touching her body, feeling the curves of her legs, her muscles, yes, it was turning me on. It felt somehow deceitful, but I couldn't help it.  

"Ooh Anne, that is so, sooo good!" she purred. "Please, don't stop!"

"Well, we're not done yet," I said. She gave a little sigh and settled her head back into the towel. 

"Anne, do you really think I've got good legs?" she then asked. I wasn't quite sure where she was coming from with that, or even what to say in reply, other than that, yes, she had very nice legs. I could have said, 'yes, you've got fantastic legs, and it's getting me all wet as I slide my hands along your shapely thighs', which would have been the truthful answer, but it wasn't one I was going to give to my close friend. Whatever perversions were making me enjoy this as I was, it was nothing she ever need be made aware of. I didn't want it to get in the way of our friendship. 

"Yes, I think you do have great legs, Wen; nicely shaped, toned."

"Thanks. I don't think they're anything special, but Roger seems to think they're pretty OK!" 

We both giggled. It was OK talking to her like this. I felt relaxed. I decided to linger on her thighs for while longer. I was enjoying this as much as she was, if in a different way. I began to run my hands up and down her thigh muscles, generating a nice rhythm, but being careful not to let my hands stray too far up her legs. I didn't want to seem improper with what I was doing, but God, what I was feeling inside was highly improper. I could feel my juices beginning to flow; I felt as if in a relaxing sexual fog, and truth be told I just wanted to lay myself down along her sexy, oiled up body, run my hands up and down her sides, feel her bare flesh against mine, nuzzle my face into the side of her neck, kiss her...

I could hear her gently sighing as she further relaxed into the massage. I wondered if she actually was beginning to fall asleep, but then she lifted her head and spoke. 

"Anne?" she asked all of a sudden. 

"Mm?"

"Have you ever been with a woman?" 

I almost froze at her question, although not knowing quite why. It was the last thing I expected her to say. 

"Don't get freaked out, please; it's just that, the way you're rubbing the oil into me, it's kind of like how a man would, and I was just wondering. It's no big deal, I'm sorry. Hey, it's OK, you don't have to stop the massage." 

"It's OK, I'm not freaked," I said. But actually I was a little. This was something I hadn't actually really confessed to anyone. I felt the blood rush to my brain: I felt on the spot. 

"So, have you?" she continued. There was a tentative tone to her voice but it was clear she wasn't going to let it rest. "It's no big deal. I'm just curious, that's all." The more I paused before answering, the more I backed myself into a corner, the less choice I had to tell her what would have been a lie. Because not answering straight away with a firm 'no', that itself was a virtual admission that, yes, it's true: I am bisexual. 

"Yes." There it was; I had said it. "Yes, I have." 

She was silent for a few seconds. 

"What's it like? 

"Well... hard to explain. Good. Better than good. It's certainly different from being with a man!" 

At that, we both cracked up laughing. 

Evidently we'd been loud enough to wake the snoring Roger, who was lifting his head towards us to be greeted with the sight of me straddled across his girlfriend's legs apply sunscreen to her body. 

"My turn! I'm next!" he said. 

"Oh, I think that's a job for Wendy, Roger," I said. 

"Let's both do him," she said with a mischievous smile as she leapt to her feet and grabbed the sunscreen. "You do his back, I'll do his legs. OK Mister, lie down. This can be your birthday treat." 

"OK!" he grinned. 

I sat down alongside him and began to rub he cream into his back, but being extra careful not to make it too much of a 'massage' this time. Wendy started at his feet and worked her way up his legs. 

"He's not as ticklish as me," she said, giving the ball of his left foot a little tickle with her fingers by way of demonstration. 

"Ah, that's great," he sighed. "I think I'm in heaven!" 

"Well, of course you are, my darling," Wendy chirped. "On a beach with two hot girls rubbing oil into your body – could it get any better for a guy?" 

"Nope, don't think so!" he sighed happily. 

I applied the cream into his back in somewhat perfunctory fashion before moving to his shoulders and arms. He did have a good body, and especially nicely developed arm muscles. 

Meanwhile Wendy had advanced well up his legs, and was now massaging the cream into his thighs. There was nothing functional about her method; she was treating him to slow, sensual strokes, running her fingers right up to his ass, letting them stray down his inner thighs, way up high. I caught myself staring at this obvious sexual exchange, but I knew that under my dark sun glasses she mostly likely wouldn't have been able to tell I was staring. Either way, she didn't seem too concerned about what I might think as she virtually felt up her man in public. God, I thought, what has gotten into her? 

We continued our dual massages for a few more minutes, and yes, there was no doubt about it. She was touching him. Her hand would run up his thigh, then disappear down his inner thigh and slide under him. I couldn't see exactly what she was doing, but there was no doubt – she was feeling up his balls. 

Then I saw it. Down under the line of his hip, between his body and the towel, there it was, right there: the tip of his cock, ever so slightly peeking out the side. God, it was right there in front of me, so hard it had poked out over the waist band of his swimmers, as if it was straining for freedom. The head of Roger's cock, I watched it, almost spellbound to be witness to something so unexpected. I watched it, transfixed as a bead of clear liquid began to seep out of the eye... Oh my...

Wendy must have seen it too. Now her hands were straying across his ass, falling around the tops of his hips, her right hand then grazing across the top of the wet, exposed tip. While her left hand continued to rub his upper thigh and ass, her right hand slipped deftly under his body, grabbing his cock. It was all happening right in front of my eyes, although I pretended not to notice, continuing to run his shoulders. 

I saw Wendy give him a big squeeze. You could see by the look on her face, how much she was enjoying touching him: her mouth was ever so slightly parted as she gazed down at his ass and hips, her hand rubbing him, a slightly glazed look on her face. 

I couldn't see Roger's cock any longer, because it was shielded by Wendy's hand. I felt my breathing quicken and my nipples stiffen as I watched her continue to rub him. It was such a sexy thing to be seeing; so brazen, something I shouldn't have been seeing. God, I'd never thought of myself as some kind of voyeur, although I guess it was like when you get turned on watching a sex scene in a movie. It was so hot to watch my two friends like that – she was virtually jerking him off! I had to concentrate simply to continue rubbing the cream into his skin, otherwise I might have just sat there, open-mouthed, staring. 

Then Wendy jumped up. The massage was evidently over. 

"I think you're done, Mister," she said. "I think you're starting to enjoy it too much! God, I'm all hot now – let's go for a swim! Coming?" 

"Er, I think I'll just rest up a bit," Roger said. I wasn't surprised he needed to 'rest'. 

"Aw come on Rog, let's all go for a dip," Wendy teased. She was clearly enjoying this – she knew exactly why Roger preferred to 'rest' right now. But she wasn't letting up. 

"Come on hun, let's go!" she said, grabbing his arm and hauling him to his feet. The poor guy muttered a muffled protest but she was having none of it. She wasn't trying to humiliate him, I sensed; she was just having a bit of fun. A bit of saucy fun that was out of character for her, I thought, but then they're in love, and they had a pretty wild time last night. Guess they just can't keep their hands off each other. 

Roger did his best to shroud his hard cock by holding his hands out front without it looking too obvious as to what he was doing as we strolled down to the water. But it was still plain to see – some things you just can't hide, and you certainly can't hide a hard cock in a skimpy bathing suit like he was trying to. There weren't too many people around, so his embarrassment was confined really just to the fact that I could see he had a hard on. You could tell he wasn't too comfortable about the situation, but then I thought back to the ways I had exposed myself to him and decided not to give him much sympathy. Either way, I was trying to not involve myself too much in this little escapade, or whatever this was, precisely because of the unsavory history I had with Roger. I was happy not to join in, not to comment, to remain a bit detached from it all as Wendy started making little jokes about how some parts of Roger's body don't look like they're ready to rest. I just grinned along with her. But I was happy also to steal the odd glance at Roger's little 'problem'... His hard cock looked good like that; a little ridiculous poking out so lewdly in those little bathers of his, maybe, but it was something you just couldn't ignore. 

We swam around for a while, but even in the water Wendy and Rog couldn't keep their hands off one another. For a while as I swam a little way away from them, and I watched them embracing, kissing, only their upper bodies out of the water, I wondered whether or not he was actually fucking her...

By the time we got out of the water the source of Roger's discomfort had receded. Maybe he had fucked her in the water? I couldn't help but think how odd all of this was, how out of character it was for Wendy. She's no prude, but I always thought of her as quite a 'straight' sort of person. But when she was rubbing his cock, she must have known that I could see it. I was right there next to her; there was really nowhere else to look. Very strange. 

We ended up making a full day of it: swim, sunbake, few glasses of wine, swim again, until the afternoon sun had set far enough that it no longer had the power to warm us sufficiently for yet another dip in the ocean. Soon we were packing up and heading for home. It had been a great day, and I felt a wonderful sense of exhaustion – exhaustion that comes from doing things for pleasure; exhaustion that, oddly enough, comes from relaxation. 

As the sun began to set it had become quite cool, and in the car I wrapped myself up in a blanket that had been lying on the seat. The day in the sun and a few glasses of wine had made me quite sleepy, and soon I felt myself begin to nod off under the gentle rocking and vibrations of the car as Roger drove us home. 

Roger and Wendy were talking amongst themselves in the front. Wendy had her hand on Roger's thigh. 

"What are we going to do for dinner, babe?" Roger asked. 

"We've still got some roast left from last night. We could have that cold, with some salad. What do you think?" 

"Sounds good to me," he replied. As he spoke, Wendy was rubbing his thigh, up and down with her hand. Every now and then her hand would stray up to his crotch. Yes, she was, even now and then she was playfully grabbing his cock – I could clearly see it from my seat in the back behind Wendy in the front. 

As our journey continued I watched her as she continued to rub him. God, she had his cock in her hand now – I could even see the bulge in his shorts! 

"Mmm, like that?" she whispered into his ear. It occurred to me that she must have thought I was sleeping. 

Roger didn't say anything, but it was pretty obvious he was enjoying it. So was I, I had to admit. I was being treated to a private little show by my friends, and it felt a little naughty to be spying on them as I was, but exciting to be privy to something I ought not to be seeing. Anyway, what was I to do? She was feeling him up in the car with me sitting in the back seat. Just like she had done in front of me at the beach. God, what's gotten into her? 

She leaned across to him again. 

"Babe, want me to blow you?" she whispered. She had said softly, and for a moment I wasn't sure I had heard it right. 

"Not here, not now, hun'," he whispered back. I could barely hear him "Not with Anne back there." 

"It's OK hun', she's sleeping." Then she turned to me. "Hey, Anne, you awake?" 

I felt a sudden sense of almost panic. I was still wearing my sun glasses, so my eyes were concealed. They couldn't tell whether I was asleep or not. If I didn't reply, if I feigned sleep, I knew what she was going to do. And I would see her doing it. I stayed silent for a moment, my mind in a kind of turmoil. I wanted to respond, because to do otherwise would be a kind of betrayal. But I also wanted...

"See," I heard Wendy whisper into his ear, giving his cock a good hard squeeze as she did, "she's out like a light. Just relax, babe. Keep your eyes on the road and relax." 

"What if she wakes up?" Roger said. He seemed very nervous. 

"Don't worry, she won't. And anyway, she'd probably enjoy the show. Sshh. Just relax, let me take care of you." 

How would she know whether or not I'd enjoy it, I wondered. I might be mighty offended to wake up and see her sucking Roger's cock like that, for all she knew. But the fact was, even though she didn't know it, she was right – I was enjoying it, I was itching to see her do it, and now she was gently easing back the waist band of his shorts, so that his hard cock could be freed. Roger shifted in his seat to help her, and then, there it was; right before my eyes, Roger's hard cock – for the second time in one day. 

I sat there, still as could be, concentrating on controlling my rapidly quickening breathing as I watched her hand slide up and down his now slick shaft. I could hardly believe my eyes, hardly believe what was going on, but almost before I had even realized it my hand had slipped down my body till it found my pussy, the movement concealed under the blanket. It felt wrong, so wrong to be watching them, but then who else, what passing drivers, would also see them? What if a truck came past? And I felt safe in the sense that they'd never know I wasn't asleep, as long as I kept up the pretence and didn't give the game away. 

I heard Wendy give a little moan as she bent towards him. I watched as her lips brushed against the wet tip of her man's cock, her lips darting across the tip, tasting the wetness. I felt my own mouth watering. Oh God, she's going to do it and I'm going to see her doing it! I watched, fascinated as her tongue began to swirl around the head, her red hair dancing around his crotch. She moaned again, and then her lips parted and her mouth slid down over the head of her man's cock. Ooh, it was like the most brazenly sexual thing I had ever seen! It occurred to me that this was like some kind of pornographic experience, and yet I'd hardly ever watched a 'blue' film, much less enjoyed one. But I was enjoying this little show; watching Wendy suck her man. God, how sexy she looked as she began to suck him, her mouth gently sliding up and down, lovingly, her hand gripping the base of his shaft and Roger battling to stifle his urge to cry out in pleasure! 

My body felt as if on fire. My heart was pounding in my chest, but I dared not move a muscle, other than the surreptitious flick of my wrist as my fingers rubbed up and down between my legs. I could feel the wetness now, soaking my bathers. Oooh, yes Wendy, suck him, babe! In my mind it was almost as though I was directing them, directing the action, willing her to take him into her mouth, suck that big hard shaft. I found myself imagining what Roger's cock would feel like in my mouth, and I felt my own mouth watering at the thought. Ooh yes, Wendy – suck him, worship him. Suck his big dick. Make him cum!

Oh God – was I going to see that? See him cum? Ooh, I hadn't even thought of it! But oh yes, yes, he was going to cum – I could see it in the way his body was beginning to tense, the way his hands gripped the steering wheel... Then the back of Roger's head slammed against the headrest – oh, yes, he was cumming! I watched them, spellbound, holding my breath as Wendy moaned. I watched her throat convulse as Roger stifled a growl and his body tensed savagely. Yes, he was cumming – he was shooting into her mouth! Wendy's expression was all concentration as she gripped him with her hand and sucked him hard, and there was no doubt - her mouth was being filled with her man's cum. Oh yes, it was, for there I saw it, as her mouth opened a little, for now she was moaning in some kind of triumphant pleasure, and the remaining load of sticky white liquid began to pour down the sides of his shaft like hot candle wax. I saw as she released him from her mouth, so she could scoop up the cum with her tongue. God, she licked his shaft all over, licking it up, licking him clean. I could see his cum on her cheeks, coating her lips... Oooh... 

"Enjoy that?" I heard her whisper in his ear. 

"Oh yes, ooh yes," he said. "Hun', you're amazing!" Then they kissed, but only briefly – Roger still had to keep the car on the road! 

I laid there as still as I could manage, still quietly rubbing myself, hardly believing what I had just seen. 

About 10 minutes later we had arrived at their place. When Roger pulled the car to a halt, I stretched my arms out and gave a little moan, making it look as if I had just woken up.

"Hey, sleepy head," Wendy said, "We're home now." 

"I must have fallen asleep," I said with a faked yawn, and feeling rather a little but guilty about it, too. 

"You were dead to the world, girl!" she laughed. 

We got out and I collected up my things as Roger unloaded their stuff from the trunk.

"Coming up for a coffee?" Wendy asked. 

"No thanks, Wen, I'll take a rain check. I'm really tired. Best be off, I think. But I had a really great day – thanks for inviting me!" 

"Don't mention it. It was fun – we should do it again." 

"Yes, love to," I said. 

With that, as I waved goodbye to Roger, still unpacking his car, Wendy bade me farewell with a big hug. And then she gave me a little kiss on the lips. But as her lips met mine, her mouth was slightly open – and her tongue gently pushed into my mouth. It was only a momentary thing, but there was no mistaking it – the tip of her tongue slid inside my own lips, and for a fleeting second our tongues met before she broke off the kiss. 




Car Show Slut Ch. 09



"Take care, see you again soon," she said, still hugging me. She was looking into my eyes as she spoke, and her eyes were like fire, sparkling, smiling. I smiled back, gave her an innocent peck on the cheek and turned towards my car. Roger was by her side now as I strapped myself in and fired up the engine. They waved as I drove off home. 

My heart was beating fast. Hadn't Wendy just virtually tongue-kissed me? My hand strayed down between my legs as I headed for home, and I suddenly found myself licking my lips. I licked them again. Then I realized. The taste of semen was on my lips. Roger's cum. 

My hand slid inside my bikini. I opened my legs as wide as I could and plunged my finger inside, deep inside. 



Car Show Slut Ch. 10



What a strange day that had been! It was almost surreal; Wendy, and Roger, for that matter, acting in such an overtly sexual way in my presence. Well, they weren't when we were in the car, because they had no idea I wasn't asleep when she was going down on him, but still... Maybe they'd always been like that and I'd never noticed? Whatever, as odd a day as it had been, I'd really had a great time, and I didn't think I was likely to forget what happened in the car in a very long time! Mmm, yes, that was hot! But then, afterwards, Wendy kissed me – on the mouth, with her tongue! What was that all about? And I could taste Roger's cock on her lips... 

I wasn't sure which was hotter, the forbidden nature of the fact that I tasted Roger's cum via the lips of his fiancé, the fact that she had virtually kissed me like a lover, or the fact that I watched her suck his cock and make him cum in her mouth. Replaying all this in my mind as I went to bed, I reached for my vibrator and rubbed it up and down my swollen lips. Mmm, yes...

Nothing like going to sleep on a nice self-induced orgasm. I woke up feeling wonderful, and still a little bit horny as I lay in the bed, the sun beginning to peek in through the window. 

I rubbed eyes and got out of bed. I slipped into my underwear – my nice black g-string and low cut matching bra. I was about to put on my skirt when I remembered about my yoga and the chat with Mr Darcy. I hadn't done my morning yoga. I looked at my reflection in the mirror. A bit risqué to be doing it in your underwear, I thought, especially with the old man from next door probably watching. Oh, what the heck, it's not like I'm naked. 

I opened the balcony doors and felt the cool morning air against my skin as I stepped outside. Laying my mat down, I began, as I normally did, laying on my back, feet together, legs arched. Laying out like this for a few minutes was a good way to relax the abdominals. If I'd thought more about it, I'd have faced the other way, away from Mr Darcy's apartment, because as it was I was laying there virtually with my legs spread wide right before him. That's if he was even there. But I noticed, as I looked up, that his trees looked different. There were less of them – the sly old fox no doubt had moved some of them away, so as not to impede his view. But was he even out on his balcony at all, I thought, as I moved into a different pose, the vasisthasanana, or 'side plank' – legs together, balancing on your side, but upper body supported with a straight arm, the top arm raised high. I did this both sides, then some dog poses – upward facing, downward – some upper body twists and standing poses. My favorite is the Warrior III – it's hard to keep your balance, but when you get it right, it almost feels like you're as light as a feather. It's not what one might call a modest pose, especially with what I was wearing, but I was really into the swing of my routine now, and I didn't know for certain that my 'secret' admirer was even there admiring me. If he was, I thought to myself, he was about to get quite a show. The Warrior III starts as a regular standing pose, but then you lean forward on the one leg and place all your weight on that leg. You then straighten the leg and balance on it, shifting your upper body down, bending over at the pelvis so that your upper body is right-angles to the straight leg. Then your other leg extends out the other way, in the same plane as your upper body (if you've got the flexibility) so you make a kind of t-shape, arms stretched out at the horizontal, above your head. I shouldn't really be doing this in a g-string! If old Mr Darcy was watching me now, I mused as I concentrated on keeping my balance in Warrior III, oh my...

A few more poses and I felt I was done. Physically tuned up and ready to go, I threw on my skirt and blouse and was on my way to work. 

I had to drop the car into the shop this morning – someone had kindly reversed into me at the mall carpark and damaged a fender. The man in the shop told me it would be about a week to fix. No, they didn't have a courtesy car to offer me. Great. I would have to take the train all week. I hate trains. Crowds of sweaty people, and more often than not the odd mad person you get stuck sitting next to. I thought about getting a rental for the week, but then it was only for a week. Public transit is not that bad; live with it. 

The boss at the shop got one of his juniors to drive me to the train station. It felt strange to be sitting on the right, the first time I'd ever been driven anywhere in my own car. 

'Nice car," he said as he pulled out of the shop. 

"Thanks," I said. "It is a great car, I love it." 

He was not a bad looking kid. All of 18, I figured, with very well defined muscles that come with that kind of physical work, auto repairs. I watched his arm muscles flex as he worked the steering wheel. Nice looking kid. Very nice. 

We didn't speak much beyond that; it was kind of like being in a taxi, except it was my car and I was in the front seat. I thought I noticed him glance across at my legs a few times. Yes, I did notice it. I was wearing one of my shorter skirts today, and sitting in the car, well, I guess I was showing a little bit of leg. 

He dropped me off at the train terminal and I watched my BMW drive away. I bought my ticket and waited on the platform with all the other commuters. It was about a half-hour trip to the office, so I was glad I'd brought a book to read to help pass the time. Tomorrow I might even bring my laptop, get a bit of work done on the way. 

Work, by the time I got there via public transit, was a drag. I had to work on the revamped project for Ron and Darren, but all the time it just reminded me of that late night with the two of them. Still, by the end of the day I had it in some sort of shape, so that probably some time the next day I'd been able to sign off on it and put it all aside. 

The trip home reminded of the old days – when I used to take the subway every day. Not that it was that bad; but it's just the waiting, standing around waiting for the damned train, having to rely on it to get anywhere. God, I'd have been half way home in my car by now, and the damned train hasn't even arrived yet. 

At least the train travel gave one time to relax. Luckily I was able to find a seat, and soon I became immersed in my book, one of those trash pulp fiction novels. This one was quite raunchy; a rather steamy scene in a barn between the heroine of the story and a young farm boy. I found myself becoming quite flushed as I read, so much so that I felt a little self conscious - I was careful to ensure the man sitting next to me couldn't glance across and read the sordid contents of this little tale over my shoulder. Actually, the man was looking my way, but at my legs, not the pages I was reading. I noticed it a few times; he was checking out my legs, for sure. I was sitting cross-legged. My skirt was short, and the crossed leg was to his side. He must have been getting quite a view of my outer thing under my short skirt, I figured, and I thought about shifting my position. In truth, I didn't actually mind him giving me the occasional secretive glance. In truth, I was feeling horny. I liked it that he was watching. 

I made it an early night. I was tired; I couldn't believe how long that trip had taken, by the time I finally got home. A couple of glasses of wine and I called it a night. 

I had some strange dreams. Well, not so strange, but sexy. Weird sexy. Funny how odd, nondescript elements of your day often reoccur as part of the patchwork of surrealism in your dreams, and in this case it was the auto shop. I lay in bed, sun peaking through the blinds to announce the new day as I deliciously recounted my dream. I had gone back to the shop to complain that they hadn't been able to offer me a rental or courtesy car, and I was remonstrating with them, telling the manager in no uncertain terms that he was running a pretty sub-standard business when it came to customer relations. He was trying to pacify me, but I wasn't having it. Then I was over on the shop floor by my car, looking at the damaged fender, when I felt two rough hands grab me round the waist and spin me around forcefully like I was a little rag doll. It was the young auto worker who had driven me to the station. He was clearly pissed and he snarled at me, something like 'lady, we'll show you all about "customer relations"' and he pushed me back so that I fell back hard against the hood of my car. He leaned across my body, and I saw him grinning madly as he ran his hands up my hips, watching the curved trajectory they made as they went up my waist and then settled on my tits. He squeezed them hard, so hard it almost hurt. I was scared, but now there was another guy, a big man with huge muscles, overalls rolled down to his waist, climbing on top of me and ripping my blouse open, buttons flying, the grease from his hands soiling my clothes, grease all over my skin. Then another, his large rough, greasy hands on my legs, effortlessly spreading them wide apart and forcing my skirt up around my waist. The young guy was holding my head to the side, and he was naked now, his hard cock pointing right at my face. He had an angry look on his face as he bore down on me, holding my face as he brought his cock to my lips and forced it into my mouth. 'Suck it, slut,' he yelled, as he drove his cock into my mouth, holding my head as he fucked my face. Then someone else, there seemed to be so many of them now, had shoved his finger inside me, roughly fucking me with his finger. Then what I could feel inside me seemed to morph into a giant cock, and I looked up and saw the big guy was fucking me, driving into me with a cock that looked about a foot long. In out, in out, somehow it was going in all the way. Other men were holding me down now, forcing me against the cold steel of the car; all of them naked, huge cocks pointing to the sky. One of them grabbed the younger guy and threw him off, then replacing him in my mouth with his own cock, as the big guy continued to shove that enormous cock inside with such effortless ease. And on and on it went, till I woke up and realized I was in my bed, alone. My body was tingling. I lay there, thinking about the dream and reached for my vibrator...

In the morning I was feeling very horny indeed. I got out of bed. Yoga time, I thought. I certainly felt like a good stretch. There was enough time for a short session. Then I thought of Mr Darcy. I should put my yoga gear on. I knew I should, because he would be watching. Well, I didn't know that for sure, but he might be watching. But I wanted to do it naked. I don't know why, but I just did. Oh, why not – it's my balcony, my space. And it's not like it's going to offend the old guy, and he's probably already seen me do it before. Why not? Give old Mr Darcy a thrill. I was sure he would love to see me do my yoga naked. I shouldn't do it. No, I really shouldn't do it, knowing that he would be almost certainly be watching. Oh damn it! 

I was standing at the sliding doors inside my apartment, naked, watching the sun rise across the trees. I gently opened the doors, trying not to make too much noise, though I knew not why – it was as though I was a thief trying to escape the attention of the authorities. The clean, cool morning air felt lovely against my bare skin. I stepped out into the balcony and laid down my mat. I felt very exposed, but in an earthy, natural way. I laid down, legs arched, feet together, as I normally did, but facing away from Mr Darcy's apartment – if he was there, I didn't want to be spreading my legs wide like that right in front of him! 

But the thought, the idea of doing so, hit me like a jolt. Ooh, how wicked that would be, to be laying out like this, legs spread wide, right in front of him, maybe not four or five feet away! But then I thought, Anne, don't be so slutty, and any case, you don't even know whether he is even there or not. He may not be. He may be tucked up in bed, sound asleep, and the only living things out here seeing you are the birds in the trees. 

But the idea that he might be there dominated my thoughts. I couldn't relax, couldn't involve myself in the poses as I normally would. I went through my routine, conscious not of the normal relaxing effect it had, but rather the heat that seemed to be building inside me, the delicious tingling through my naked body. My nipples were stiffening, and it wasn't the cool air. I could feel myself becoming wet inside. The idea of showing myself to the old man, whether I was in fact doing it or not, was actually turning me on. It felt so wrong to be thinking these sorts of thoughts as a kind of interaction with such a sweet old man like Mr Darcy, and it made me feel depraved. But the more depraved it made me feel, the more turned on I became. Even so, some sense of modesty prevailed, and I mostly found myself facing in the opposite direction to Mr Darcy's apartment as I went through various poses. I was conscious of the time – that I would have to stop soon or I would be late for work: it takes so much longer on the train. 

I turned around, to face Mr Darcy's apartment. I felt like I was looking straight at him through the clump of plants, but I couldn't see him. I had heard not a sound. Was he there? I couldn't be sure either way. 

I stood on one leg, bending the other leg and lifting my foot high so I could wedge it against my inner thigh, to form the tree pose. Once I had my balance, I raised my hands together in prayer form. I stood there like that for maybe half a minute, facing Mr Darcy's apartment. I could feel my body shaking. I imagined him looking at me, feasting his tired old eyes on my young naked body, my naked shaved pussy, so exposed in this position. My dripping wet, depraved cunt. 

When I finally started to lose my balance, I let my leg down. I went inside and got dressed for work. 

Work was busy. The firm had attracted the interest of a big company to the east that was potentially worth millions. Mr Sheldon entrusted it to me: I'd be flying out to meet them in Chicago in a week or so. There was a lot of work involved, but it was a nice distraction from the Ron and Darren affair. It was good to be working on such an important project. 

But it was a bit of a drag to be catching the train home after such a long day. I thought about getting a taxi, but while I could afford it, I felt it was way too much of an extravagance. And it's not as though I'm the richest woman in the world – millions use trains every day, so can you, I reminded myself. At least it was on time this evening. 

The train was packed. No seats this time, I would just have to stand. And it was standing room only. I was not even near a hand rail, so what with trying to hold my bag – I wasn't prepared to put in on the floor between my legs, not in this town – I was struggling not to fall into the other people as the train rocked its way along. The woman right in front of me could just reach one of the rails, and as the train bounced along I could not help from bashing into her. I kept apologizing every time it happened, and she kept saying with a smile, 'it's fine'. I mean, she could see my predicament, it was plainly evident. 

Then the train hit a big bump and I bashed into her again. Again, I apologized, and then she said, "here, just hold on to me," and she took my hand and placed it on her hip. 

"Thank you," I said, and she smiled back. She was younger than me, a very attractive young woman, too, dressed in conservative business suit and skirt, much like myself. She was rather petite, with deep blue eyes and lovely soft blonde hair, cut in a kind of bob. We continued our journey like that, my body basically pressing up against her ass and back, and supporting myself with my hand on her hip against the movement of the train. My body pressing against hers, it was all rather embarrassingly intimate for such a public situation, but all of us in that damned carriage had to make the most of it. Others around me that I could see were also struggling to hold their balance. I guessed everyone was just waiting for the moment when the train stopped at their station, so they could escape this unpleasant sardine can. 

I was aware of the warmth of her body, for how could I not, pressed up hard against her as I was, my breasts pushing into her back, my crotch against her ass, my hand on her hip. In fact, we were in a weird kind of embrace. My head was right over her shoulder. She smelled nice. I could also detect the faint odor of alcohol on her breath. I started to wonder about her: what she did for a job; where she lived; whether or not she was married. She had a nice, slender figure. I could tell that through the contact between our two bodies, and my hand on her hip. The curve of her hip felt nice in my hand. After a while, tired as I was from the effort of balancing on my feet in my heels, I felt myself slowly lean against her a little more, resting my body against hers. It felt comforting, snug. We weren't talking, and nor did I really want to open a conversation, partly because I was a little exhausted and not in the mood for idle chat, and partly because any conversation on this crowded train, even with the noise of the train, would have to be shared with so many other commuters. 

The train's rocking motion seemed to have leveled out a bit now, and I just relaxed against her. She was so warm, and our bodies just seemed to fit so well together in this unorthodox embrace, if you could call it that. My station was not far away now. Soon I would be out of this tin can. 

It occurred to me as the journey continued, as I continued to wonder about the woman I was crammed up against; who she was, what was she was like as a person, and the odd fact that we were having a kind of physical relationship of sorts – not a sexual one, but in the confined space of the train we were relating to one another solely through our bodies. 

Well, sexuality did come into it, I had to concede. Because the truth was that I loved the feel of her body against mine; it was a lot more than simply comforting. I felt almost like I was hugging her, and in fact that basically was it: my arm was around her, my body pressed up against her. I felt the urge to grip her hip a little tighter. I repositioned my hand on her hip, wiggling my fingers a little, for they had become a bit cramped in the same position holding on tightly for so long. I could feel the shape of her hip bone clearly, as my fingers wrapped around the inner side of the bone, pushing against the fabric of her skirt, against her skin. 

Suddenly the train jolted to the side, and everyone was thrown off balance for a moment. I was suddenly a bit scared, and you could sense the tension in the air – others were feeling the same way. The train seemed to have picked up speed; was this damn thing about to run off its tracks? 

Then I felt her hand go round mine, clasping it tightly. She was obviously worried, too, and her hand was a comfort to me. But it was more than that; the feeling of her hand on mine, her skin against mine, was like an electrifying jolt through my body. I gripped her hip tightly; my heart was beating fast. She kept her hand on mine even after the train seemed to settle down. I felt myself starting to pant, the blood racing around my body. 

"It's OK," she whispered into my ear. It surprised me – I thought she was scared and was holding on to me. Evidently she thought I was afraid and was trying to comfort me. But was it possibly also sexual? I didn't know. But it was for me. I felt her squeeze my hand and my pussy throbbed in response. My station was next stop, but now I almost didn't want to get off. I wanted to just stay like this, holding her, embracing her, feeling her hand on mine. I dug my fingers into the curve below her hip. I felt her fingers resting on mine, pushing tightly against me. She seemed to be responding to me. I was getting wet now, I could feel it.




Car Show Slut Ch. 10



In the tight confines, no one really see what was going on, that her hand was on mine. But what was really going on? All this was really steaming me up, but what was going on in her mind? Was this a sexual embrace on her part, like it was so increasingly for me? I dared not move my hand any more, lest I reveal to her my own rapidly gathering lust. And I didn't want to offend her, nor let it be revealed what I was really feeling – God, how embarrassing that would be in such a public place! But I was just so enjoying our camaraderie in this difficult situation, or whatever it was. The train jolted again. I shifted my leg to retain my balance. As I did, it must have slipped between her legs, for suddenly I could feel her inner thigh against mine. It felt so warm, so soft, so... My journey was almost over. It almost felt like some kind of dream, locked together as we were in a sense. My leg was touching hers now, my body pressed firmly into her back, my hand on her hip, her hand around mine. My heart was beating rapidly. I wondered whether she could feel it. I shifted my leg, rubbing my bare leg against her silky smooth skin. She didn't move, but I could feel that she was pressing her leg back against mine, oh yes, she was, she was letting me rub my leg against hers! I started gently, secretly rubbing my leg slowly up and down, against her skin. Oh God, it felt wonderful. I gripped her hip tighter. Her hand gripped mine, harder now. It was all I could do to stop myself from thrusting my hips against her ass. 

The train began to slow. It was my stop. People were shifting around, trying to make space for those who were getting off. Our strange little experience, sadly, had reached its end. 

I didn't want to go, didn't want to let her go, who ever she was. For a moment I thought about staying there, with her, to see where this journey might take me, but something, something inside, was stopping me. I had to get off. 

I had to say something to her; couldn't leave without doing so. I reached up to whisper into her ear. 

"I've got to get off now," I said, releasing my grasp around her hip. "It's my stop." 

She turned her head and smiled. "OK," she whispered back. I smiled back at her as I turned to push my way through the throng. I stood on the platform and watched the train leave. But I couldn't see her in the crowded carriage. The train rolled out of the station, and with that she was gone. 

I felt almost groggy, as if it had been a dream from which I had just woken. But the cool night air soon had me back into some semblance of reality as I made my way back home, the memory of a very pleasant train experience running through my mind, her physical memory still pervading my senses. I walked on home. Tired, exhausted, but feeling very very sexy. 

It was good to finally get home. The walk hadn't done much to quell the fire in my loins; I was still feeling powerfully horny. I wasn't hungry, but I was in need of a drink. I poured myself a glass of wine and went out onto the balcony. I noticed something in the corner. It was a small jar with a red rose, and a small box of chocolates beside it. I picked up the jar. There was a note inside. It read: 'Beauty behind compare, my dear, beauty beyond mere words'. It was from Mr Darcy – he must have been out there this morning! How sweet, what a lovely old man! But there was another note in the bottom of the jar. 

'Dear lady, it just so happens that it is my birthday today. I must say that you have already given me a wonderful birthday present this morning with your exercise routine, but I am wondering whether you might like to join me briefly for a celebration drink. I know you are a busy girl and I promise not to detain you long, but it would make an old man like me so happy.' 

I smiled. Yes, of course I would have a drink with Mr Darcy on his birthday! I downed my glass and headed for next door. I rang the bell. 

"Good evening my dear, thank you so much for coming," he said. 

"Don't mention it," I smiled. "And thank you for the chocolates. And happy birthday! But I'm sorry, I didn't know it was your birthday – I haven't got you anything." 

"My dear, to have such a beautiful young lady in my presence, that is more than enough gifts for an old man like me." 

"Oh, you're not that old," I joked. "Mr Darcy, you can't be a day over sixty, surely." 

"Oh ho ho," he laughed. "You're too kind. But I'm afraid it was a long time since I was that age." 

He was certainly older than sixty, I knew that. But I really liked the old guy. So sweet, so... so English. A very different type of character to most of the people around here. So old fashioned in everything he did. Even his apartment, a mirror image layout of mine, but it couldn't have been more different – full of old furniture. Compared to my place it was more like a museum. I took a seat on his expansive leather sofa as he went into the kitchen. 

"Wine?" 

"That would be lovely," I said. 

"Excellent. I've been keeping this bottle of red for a celebratory occasion such as this, but you don't have too many of those at my age! Alas, my Gladys passed on many years ago, and I'm afraid the same is true of most our close acquaintances." 

"Mr Darcy I'm sorry to hear that." 

"Oh, don't be sorry. It's just life. I've had a good innings, as they say. I've lived a very full life, and now am old. It happens to everybody, although I must say young lady looking at you there, it's hard to imagine such a stunningly beautiful young girl like you ever getting old." 

"Oh, you shouldn't say things like that," I said. I was actually blushing a bit. I took a sip of the wine. It was very good. Very good indeed. 

"Mr Darcy, this wine is superb!" 

"Yes, it is. I thought you would like it. It's a 1968 vintage, so one would hope it's a good drop." 

"God, this must be worth a fortune!" I said. It probably was. A vintage of nearly 40 years! 

"Yes, I believe it may well be worth a pretty penny these days, but it's of no use to me sitting up there on the shelf. I'm just so glad to be able to appreciate it with someone, especially such an attractive young lady." 

He really was a lovely old man, a remarkable man for his age. His mind was sharp, and his body looked amazingly good. I was joking when I said he didn't look a day over 60, but he could easily have passed for late 60s. And he was a lot older than that. After a couple of glasses of this excellent wine we got to chatting. He had indeed led a full and interesting life. He had served in the Second World War, and had been a radio correspondent for most of his career after that. His work had taken him all over the world, and he and his wife eventually decided to retire in the States. 

"I love America," he said. "Of course, there is a lot wrong with this country, but the notion of America being the 'new world' and Europe representing the stuffy old way of doing things, I'm afraid there is a lot of truth in that. That buffoon, Donald Rumsfeld, I think it was, or maybe it was that interminable idiot, Cheney, I can't remember, but either way they're birds of a feather, those two; anyway, which ever one of them it was, when they criticized the European countries over the Iraq weapons issue before they went to war with Saddam, and they derided Europe as the 'decaying old world', as ham fisted and as incorrect as they were, they actually had a point. Notwithstanding, I think today's administration has got it totally wrong over Iraq; it's morally reprehensible, what they have done over there. But what they said about Europe, it's true. Europe is in a kind of decay, but there is something fresh and vibrant about America, even today...

"I'm, sorry dear, I'm rambling. Please forgive me, it's just that I don't get to talk to many people these days, and certainly few so vivacious, and as young, as yourself." 

"Oh Mr Darcy, quit with the compliments – you're embarrassing me!" I laughed. "And I don't mind you 'rambling on' – I love a good chat. But hey, tell me about the war. I mean, if it's not too personal or painful. I studied World War Two at college, but I've never spoken about it to any actual veterans."

"Well, the war was awful, terrible, as all wars are. I don't think I need to dwell on the horrors; if you're any kind of student of history, you'll already know all about that. In all, however, it wasn't that bad – I didn't actually see a lot of action in the Pacific. But ah, what a paradoxical thing war can be! You know, for a young, single man as I was then, notwithstanding the dangers and the horror, going to war, at the least the one I went to, was actually a wonderfully exciting experience." 

"What do you mean 'wonderful'? How can war be wonderful?" 

"My dear, war has a strange effect on people. The constant danger, the fear, the real fear that you may not live to see the next sunrise, I can say from personal experience that it does strange things to the human libido – male and female."

"Oh yes?" I said, intrigued now. "What do you mean by 'strange things'? Do tell!" 

"Well, oh, I'm not sure if I should. I mean, it wouldn't be proper..." 

"Oh Mr Darcy, I'm a big girl now. Please, please tell me about your wartime romances!" 

"Well, I guess you are quite a liberated young thing – and I don't suppose anything an old man could say would shock any young girl today! But as for romances, well, it wasn't so much romance as merely good old fashioned fun!"

"Ooh really? Tell me more! Mr Darcy, it sounds like you must have seen quite a bit of 'action' during the war!" It sounded very exciting – I never dreamed that people would be having sex while serving their country in a war. You just never hear about these things. I was almost on the edge of my seat waiting for him to tell me about it! 

"Quite, my dear. As I said, war can do strange things to people, and for a very young man of limited worldly experience to be thrust into such an environment, amongst the nurses and other females, well, I think I had a jolly good time of it all things considered!"

"I bet you cut quite a figure back then, Mr Darcy," I teased. This was fun! "I bet those nurses were throwing themselves at you!"

"Let's just say that one didn't get much sleep. Every night, every night was just one big rollicking party! My dear, when I look back, the war was one of the best times of my life. I enjoyed things there, with women, sometimes more than one at a time even, that I never would have thought possible. Really, and you'll never read this in the history books, it was just one big orgy."

"Wow," I said. "I'd never have thought that. God, it must have been an amazing experience, living on the edge like that." 

"Indeed it was. But modesty forbids me from getting into the details, I'm sure you understand, young lady."

"Yeah, I understand," I laughed. I took another sip of his excellent wine – my God, I had tasted some top shelf wines before, but nothing in this league – as we chatted some more about the war. I was feeling very relaxed, peaceful. It was just so nice to sit there with this kindly and really quite interesting old man after such a hectic day. It reminded me of visiting my grandparents as a kid. And his accent was just so wonderful, so different, almost soothing in a funny kind of way. He had one of those voices, with such elegant diction, that gives you a little shiver. A nice shiver, a strangely relaxing, an oddly comforting feeling. 

I wished I had eaten beforehand, though: this wine was too good not to drink, but I was drinking on an empty stomach. I began to settle back, tired, a little drunk, but under no stress. 

I must have fallen asleep. Next thing I knew Mr Darcy was helping me to my feet. I felt groggy, my legs almost giving way. God, I was so drunk! My head hurt, too; the beginnings of what I knew was going to be a killer hangover, damn it. I felt my legs turn to jelly again as Mr Darcy tried to prop me up. 

"My dear, I believe you may have indulged just a little too much," I heard him say. He was right. I felt all foggy. 

"Oh dear. Anne, you can't go home like this. Here, come this way; you can rest up on my bed. I'll take the sofa. 

"No," I heard myself slur, "I'll be fine." But even as I said it I was stumbling. I wasn't fine. Just need to sit down and rest. But Mr Darcy wasn't having any of that. He fairly picked me up and helped me into the other room, his bedroom, and laid me down so that I was sitting on the bed. 

"Just relax, my dear. You've had a hard day and need to rest." 

He was bent down low, as I felt his fingers fumbling for the straps on my shoes. Soon he had removed them from my feet. Then he was unbuttoning my blouse. Then he was sliding it off my shoulders. I was too wasted to protest, but really, I just needed to lie down. Then he unzipped my skirt. I wasn't worried; and I didn't feel exposed. Well, I was kind of barely conscious. He pulled back the covers of the bed and I snuggled up under the blankets, wearing only my bra and panties. I noticed he had left the room, but soon he was back, with a glass of water. 

"Here," he said, placing the glass in the bedside table. "Drink this, Anne. Your system needs to rehydrate." 

Then he was gone again, flicking the lights off as he left the room, closing the door behind him. In the darkness I felt the room spinning violently as I shut my eyes, so instead I had to keep them open, otherwise I was likely to be sick. It wasn't easy – I was so tired – but eventually I must have just drifted off, or perhaps simply passed out. 

Sleeping in Mr Darcy's bed, I had some strange dreams. I dreamed I was in the war, a nurse in the army field hospital tending to the injured men. They were all young guys, brave young men, fit, very masculine. My heart went out to them; it was my job to care for them, restore their strength. They would smile sweetly up at me as I passed along their beds doing my rounds. They mostly seemed to have broken arms and legs, and some of them were tied down onto their beds with ropes to help keep their limbs still while they healed. We were in some kind of jungle area in the Pacific, and it was very hot, humid. The patients were close to naked, some of them covered by nothing more than a flimsy sheet, sweat glistening off their muscle-bound bodies. It was impossible not to notice that some of them had erections. I passed one young man who was laid up with two broken arms in plaster. He was looking up at me, then glancing down at his stiffening member, gesturing, pleading. It was my job to care for them, my duty, and I knew what this man wanted, what he needed. I carefully lifted the sheet away from his muscular young frame to reveal his hard shaft. I bent down and took it into my hand. He smiled as I brought my lips to head of his cock. I took it into my mouth, sucking gently, as the other men watched my ministrations from their beds on either side. Up and down, gentle, yet sucking hard, doing all the work, so that he could remain still and not need to move a muscle of his poor, injured body. Very soon I saw his expression, a grimace, and I knew he was cumming. 

Yes. He shot his load into my mouth and I sucked it in, taking it all, swallowing the brave soldier's hot seed, spurt after spurt down my throat. When his convulsions finished I released him from my mouth, licked my lips clean and covered him up again, leaning up to kiss him on the forehead. An air of peace seemed to descend over him, and I felt very proud that I had done my duty for my country. 

The dream meandered along, as soon I realized that he wasn't the only unfortunate young man there who needed care. I was curling up in bed with one of them, one of the less-injured, after I had also taken his cock in my mouth, and laid down beside him as he spooned his young body around mine, kissing my neck, his hands running all along my body, exploring me with an apparent yearning that was discernible through the tips of his fingers, almost as though I was the first woman he had ever touched. 

The lips on my neck, the hands on my body, it felt so real. But then my consciousness began to drift elsewhere and I became aware of unfamiliar surroundings. I was not in an army hospital bed any longer. But nor was I in my own bed. The furniture I could see in the gloom of night was not recognizable. But what was unmistakable was the hand on my body, the male body that was wrapped around me as I lay there on my side. The hands exploring me, running slowly down over my hips, my thighs, and then back up again, around my breasts... and the lips that gently kissed the back of my neck, the warm breath against my neck, the soft gentle moans from the man's mouth...

I was in that indefinable zone between sleep and consciousness, but I was aware that I was in the arms of a man. And it felt wonderful. 

Slowly my mind began to sharpen. Sharpen to the point where I had to ask myself: was I dreaming? No, I was no longer dreaming. I was awake. There was a man with me, touching me. Oh no – no, it couldn't be. But it was. Mr Darcy! 

Oh yes, it was true – Mr Darcy was the man, in bed, his body spooning mine, cuddling me, his hands exploring me, ever so gently, so slowly, his lips gently kissing my neck. I froze in near shock. Mr Darcy! He must have slid in here while I was dreaming! Oh my God, I'm nearly naked in bed with an old man, what, an 80-year-old? 

My mind panicked. My first instinct was to flee the scene. But I couldn't. I couldn't do that. Hurt his feelings like that. And what an embarrassing scene it would make! Maybe he just couldn't sleep comfortably on the sofa and so he quietly crept in here. But look what he's doing now, I thought to myself as I felt his hand sliding down off my breasts, down my stomach, down... Maybe he's asleep and doesn't realize what he's doing? 

Oh Anne, I thought to myself, how naïve can you get? Can't you see - he's feeling you up! It's that simple. Yes, I was outraged, but still I couldn't bring myself to make a scene. But still here I am tolerating it, just lying here, letting him. I felt trapped. I didn't know how to act, what to do, to stop him without it ending up in a major drama that would embarrass me as well as him. But then I thought, maybe I could just pretend I was asleep? Let him have a little fun, thinking that I am totally unaware, and before long surely he will just drift off to sleep. He's about 80 for God's sake – he's hardly likely to rape you in the middle of the night! He's just enjoying this rare opportunity – a pretty outrageous thing to be doing, sure, but what the heck, he is very old. How could I live with myself if I kicked him out and humiliated him, and then he went and died of old age next week? No let him go, don't deny a very old man a rare pleasure as this. And pleasure what surely what he was experiencing. God, you could literally feel the pleasure, the gratitude, the rapture he was feeling through the very touch of his hands on my body. It was tangible, so real, just like it had felt in the dream... I felt like a Goddess, worshipped as a princess of such impossible beauty. Yes, just let him, let him, and soon he will be asleep. 

But soon it was I that was sleeping. I knew that I must have drifted off, because the next thing I knew, I felt, was his hand, wrapped around my hip and plunged inside my panties! I could feel his fingers gently caressing my lips, and I knew without even feeling myself that I was wet, that he was making me wet. God, I thought he would have just fallen asleep by now! 

Things were getting out of control. Yes, I was wet. But not so turned on as to submit to anything. But how could I get myself out of this? I felt his body push gently against mine. Every movement was gentle, as he snuggled up against me. It occurred to me that, strangely, as I could not see his body, but only feel it, that he didn't feel like an old man. But then it wasn't every day that I was involved in a sexual embrace with an eighty year old...




Car Show Slut Ch. 10



I felt his body shift a little. His movements were delicate and precise. It occurred to me that he was trying not to wake me. I felt his other hand slide down along my inner thigh, gently clasping my leg. I felt the strengthening of his grip on my skin, and then I realized why that was: he was lifting my leg. I felt him move in closer. I felt something graze my inner thigh. Oh God. His cock. It was hard. I felt him push in towards me now, felt is hand fumbling the material of my panties, gathering them up, pushing them to one side. There was no mistaking it: his cock was hard and it rested against my inner thigh, way up high. He lifted my leg further still. I felt his cock slide up my thigh, snaking its way, as my leg lifted higher under the surprisingly strong grasp of his hand. Oh my God, this is going to happen: he is going to fuck me! 

Then I felt it. The tip of Mr Darcy's cock resting gently against my lips. I just lay there, not knowing what to do, some kind of state of paralysis, my shame concealed only by my feigned sleep. What should I do now, I thought, and when no course of action entered my brain I just continued to lay there as he lifted my leg higher, so that my legs were spread wide now, open for him. I felt his body gently thrust as Mr Darcy pushed his member inside me. He didn't need to expend much effort; I was wet and open. It just slid straight in. Oh no, oh my God, Mr Darcy was inside me now! 

I felt myself open up to him as he gently pushed further in. Yes, it felt good, it was what I needed, my body craved, just as my body seemed to constantly crave these days. But it was so wrong to be doing this, and that I was allowing it to happen! Another gentle thrust and a kind of involuntary thrill surged through my being as my senses focused on my pussy and the cock that now penetrated it, filling it, quenched its need. Oh God, how could this be happening? 

He lay there, deep inside me, laying there still, silent. Then gently he began to move, such gentle movements of his shaft buried deep in my womb. I felt him kissing the back of my neck as his arm crept around my body, so that his hand cupped my breast. I just lay there, still feigning sleep, knowing not what to do! But it was too late now! As he kissed me just below the ear, I could hear his gentle moans. For all my misgivings, my inner torment, it was so, so touching to hear him moan; the sound was like a cry from heart, from the depths of his soul, a cry not so much of lust but almost of deep, genuine gratitude and worship, even love. I felt myself swooning as I listened to him sighing sweetly. Yes, I felt like a Goddess!

I could sense his breathing quickening; his cock began to move a little more urgently. His grip on my breast tightened. He was kind of grinding inside me, and despite myself, despite my anxiety about this highly unusual situation that I had never asked for, it felt so nice, so good! He held me tight. Oh yes, he was going to cum! I felt it, felt his body stiffen, and with a gentle surge as he moaned audibly, yes, he was cumming inside me! I felt my muscles contract around him almost of their own volition as Mr Darcy pumped his cum inside me, my muscles milking him as he gently spasmed. It was all so gentle, nothing violent or visceral about it. I didn't orgasm, but I felt that wonderful sense of fulfillment as I lay there on my side, pussy filled with hard cock, feeling Mr Darcy's heaving chest, his breath against my neck, as the satisfaction my body felt overpowered the anxiety in my brain and I felt myself begin to drift off to sleep. 



Car Show Slut Ch. 11



My head hurt. Damn, too much wine last night. Lying in bed, I opened my bleary eyes and suddenly I remembered... I was in Mr Darcy's apartment. In his bed. Oh dear.

I was alone, Mr Darcy was nowhere to be seen. But I hadn't been alone during the night. Oh my God. Mr Darcy had fucked me last night! I had had sex with an eighty year old! 

I felt my heart palpitate. God, what had I done? And now I'm going to have to face him – how embarrassing! I lay there, almost forgetting about my headache, wishing somehow I could just disappear out of here. But then, trying to settle my nerves, I thought, well, I had been pretending to be asleep – I had sort of been asleep at the time, in fact. I could just pretend nothing happened, as if I had no idea that anything had happened last night, and then get the hell out of here. Yes, that's it. 

I quickly dressed. I could hear Mr Darcy moving about in the living room. I would have to face him; there was no way round it. I steeled myself and opened the door. 

"Ah, good morning my dear," he beamed as I made my entrance. He was dressed and fussing about in the kitchen. 

"I hope you slept well. Here, I've made a jug of coffee." 

I sat at the table and poured a coffee, as if on auto pilot. I glanced up at the ancient clock on the wall. It was 7.30. I was due in the office for a meeting at 9.30, so I had plenty of time. But looking at the clock gave me an idea. 

"Gosh, is that the time?" I said. "I've got to go, I'm going to be late for work." 

"Yes of course, my dear," he said. "But here," he continued, "I've made you a nice salad lunch to take with you. There's a lovely piece of cake for morning tea, too. I baked it only this morning." 

He handed me the plastic lunch box. 

"Thanks Mr Darcy," I said. "But I'd better get going." 

"You have a lovely day, my dear," he said, as he leaned over to kiss me on the cheek. 

With that I was off. That wasn't so bad, I thought. He wasn't making a big deal of it. He seemed to be pretending that nothing happened either – well, he could hardly do otherwise, really: then I could accuse him of rape. Raped by an 80 year old? Yeah right... Yet I almost felt guilty at having walked out so quickly, mainly because of having told a lie. It felt kind of like lying to your parents, or your grandparents, and the fact that he had made me up a lunch box only made it feel more that way. Even so, I shouldn't feel too guilty: the old guy had had his way with me without, as far as he knew, my knowing about it. Wasn't that rape? Oh, what the hell, I thought, as I remembered what had happened, how it had felt, the memory of his tender moans as he penetrated me, felt my body. I was probably the first woman he had been with in years, maybe 10 or 20 years. And it would have been many decades since he had been with a woman in her 20s. You could feel all that in his voice, his caress last night. Yes, it was palpable, God, so touching! That wondrous rapture, almost like a young man experiencing a woman for the first time. There had been nothing aggressive in it; he just took advantage of a situation as a man. Who cares? And anyway, face it: you enjoyed it. An old man – your neighbor, actually – fucked you last night and you could have stopped it but you didn't. It happened, you enjoyed, end of story. Get over it. 

The 9.30 meeting had been cancelled. I didn't mind; I hate meetings, and I had quite a few other projects on my plate. I worked on through the morning, occasionally pausing to reflect on what was one of the strangest sexual experiences I had ever had. It hardly seemed real, and certainly at the time, half awake, half asleep, it actually was a bit surreal. 

I took a call. It was my friend, Wendy. She was in the area and wanted to drop in and have lunch with me.

"Sounds lovely," I said. "I'll meet you downstairs in 20 minutes." 

It would be good to catch up, chat. It would take my mind off the sordid Mr Darcy affair. 

I met Wendy in the lobby and we headed for the office cafeteria. She ordered a glass of wine with her meal, but I had a juice. I don't like to drink on the job. 

"So, how's tricks?" I asked. 

"Yeah, pretty good," she said. We made some small talk for a while as we waited for our meals, but she seemed a little nervous and agitated to me. 

"Wen, are you OK?"

"Yeah," she said. "Anne, can I ask you something? It's a bit personal." 

"Go ahead. What is it?" 

She paused for a moment. 

"Have you, um..." She was looking down at her plate, not at me. "Anne, have you ever had a threesome?" 

God, what a question! Now it was I that felt nervous, put on the spot. I felt my cheeks flush. Why is she asking me this? I paused for a moment before answering. What a thing to be asking me? Wendy! I wasn't going to lie, but nor did I really want to go into sordid details of my episode with Ron and Darren from Wallgrove-Fordham. God, just imagine it – 'oh yeah, Wendy, I've had a threesome, it was with two of my clients, in fact. I was at a meeting with them and somehow I ended up sucking their cocks and fucking them in their boardroom'. No, I didn't want to talk about that at all, didn't even want to think about it. But I wasn't going to lie to her. 

"Yes, I have." 

"Was it with a couple?" 

"No, two men." 

I studied her reaction. There was something wrong. Normally, with the Wendy I knew, she'd be whooping and hollering if told news like that, having a great old time. Instead she sat there, almost impassive. 

"So, what was it like?"

"Oh Wendy, why are you asking me these things? I feel a bit uncomfortable talking about this." 

"Sorry, I'm just curious. I'd just like to know, what it's like." 

"Well, if you must know, I would have preferred it hadn't happened, but I don't really want to go into the whys and wherefores. If you're asking me, was it good, yes, it was good; at the time, strange, weird, but yes, very good. In hindsight, though, I wished it hadn't happened, not with those two men."

"So, do you think you'd ever do it again?" 

What the hell was this about? Why was she asking me all this? Wendy is a fairly forthright person, so I was used to being grilled by her over my private life, but this seemed to have come right out nowhere. 

"I suppose I would never say never. Just not with those two again." 

"Hmm," she said. She paused again, pushing the food around her plate with the fork. Then she looked up at me, an uncertain look in her eye. 

"Anne," she said, before pausing. "Anne, I want us to have a threesome. You, me, and Rog." 

What? What did she just say? Wendy wanting to have a threesome? With me? Was I dreaming – she was the last person on earth I would expect to do something like that; so protective of her man, so suspicious of him. She's the classic jealous type; I'd always thought that, and you could clearly see it in the dynamic of her relationship with Roger. And a threesome with me, her friend? I felt like I was about to fall of my chair.

"Wendy, I can't believe - you can't be serious." 

"Yes, I am serious." 

"I... I don't know what to say. But I don't think it would be a good idea. Wendy, we're close friends, we can't..."

"Hey, hon', please, don't be freaked out. But will you have a think about it?" 

"OK." 

Now an uncomfortable silence descended over the conversation. Damn, why did she have to come out with something like that? I didn't want things to be uncomfortable between us, but I certainly wasn't enjoying a relaxing lunch with my friend now. 

"Anne," she said, looking me straight in the eye, "I know about that night we went the movies, how you did a little show for Roger in the back seat of the car."

Oh God. He must have told her! I felt so ashamed of what I had done back then – it was virtually cheating on her! 

"Oh Wendy, I'm so, so sorry about that night! You can't believe how awful I felt about it! I knew it was wrong, but I was drunk; I just don't know what came over me. But you have to understand that nothing – NOTHING – happened between Roger and I, and I never would have done anything! It was just a stupid, childish thing. Oh God, I'm so sorry!" 

And I was. I truly was. I had tears in my eyes; if only I could roll back time and undo my stupid mistakes! 

"Hey, it's OK," she said softly, reassuringly, reaching across to hold my hand. "Shhh, it's OK hon'. But you know, you don't realize it, but I almost should be thanking you. I have to tell you that Roger and I have been having some dramas; our relationship just kind of wasn't connecting properly. Something wasn't right between us. I was worried about it, especially so close to our wedding. So I arranged for some counseling for us. Out of that, we both realized we had been withholding secrets from one another – nothing bad, but we just weren't communicating fully. We both decided that we should come clean with each other, share our secrets, our deepest desires, so we could become closer as a couple. That's how I found out about that night. I also learned that Roger felt constrained by my possessiveness, that to him it seemed that I was always on the lookout for him being unfaithful, when in fact he never wanted anyone other than me. But my jealousy was weighing him down. I never knew that. 

"So we decided: we can't keep secrets from one another. We sat down and told each other everything. He told me about that night in the car, how he felt under pressure, often under suspicion. And I told him my fears about losing him, and also some of deeper fantasies. 

"It's really strange. I know I can be possessive and domineering, but one of my fantasies, my deepest darkest fantasies, is to see Rog with another woman. I don't know how to explain or analyze it, because I can get really jealous, and in my fantasy I am VERY jealous. The idea of watching him with another woman, you know, it's kind of horrifying and a total turn on at the same time! 

"But since we really opened up to one another, and were able to talk about these things, everything seems to have changed. We love each other so much more, and our sex life has gone to a whole new level – it's just amazing! And I know, now that I know that he only wants me, I feel secure, free, and suddenly these fantasies aren't so dark and distant, they feel like real possibilities. I feel my soul has been kind of liberated, if that makes sense." 

"I'm finding this all a bit hard to understand," I said to her. And that was an understatement! "Wendy, a threesome, with me, was it your idea or his?" 

"Mine. It came to me at the beach the other day. When you and I we were rubbing the sunscreen on him, I thought about it, and I thought it would be really beautiful to share something like that with someone I cared about. So, what do you think?"

"Wendy, this is all still sinking in for me. I can hardly believe what you've just told me. I can't, I need time to think. But really, have you really thought this through? What if we did it, and you find you can't handle it? I just don't want to risk our friendship over something like this. It's not worth it."

"I have thought about it. I have thought about it a lot. I thought about it, and I didn't want to just do it with anyone. It's not about, like, ticking a box and saying, 'I've done that'. I want it to happen, and I want it to be special. I want it to be with someone who is already close to me, and close to Roger. I don't think it would ruin our friendship; I think it would only make us closer, I'm sure of it.

"Anne, you know that day at the beach, and you were rubbing the oil into my back." 

"Yes."

"I was wondering at the time, and I have been wondering since, were you enjoying it? Doing that? I mean, were you really enjoying it?" 

"Er, what do you mean, Wen?" I said. But I was pretty sure I did know what she meant. 

"You know, did you... did you find me attractive, sexually attractive."

Yes, that was what she meant. I wasn't quite sure what I was going to say to her. Well, with how she'd just bared her soul to me, I could hardly turn around and clam up. She was looking at me so intently, waiting for the answer. She looked so earnest! It was so touching. 

"Yes, I do find you sexually attractive," I said. It felt like taking a leap into the unknown, telling her that. But it felt, good, like I was getting something off my chest. "But Wen, it's not like that. You're my friend, and I love you as my friend." 

"But if I wasn't your friend, just someone, and I was bisexual, would you have wanted to touch me? You know, really touch me?"

God, she doesn't let up, I almost laughed to myself. But it was a tender moment all the same; she had shared some real secrets with me and now I was with her. I felt very close to her at that moment. Her eyes were pleading for an answer. 

"Yes, I would. You're very sexy, and had you been someone else, I'd have certainly considered it. But you're not someone else – that's the point." 

She smiled. She was positively beaming. 

"That's how it felt to me when you were rubbing my back," she grinned, "that it wasn't just 'friendly'. Oh Anne, that turned me on – thinking that you maybe were thinking of me like that!" 

All the time she had still been touching my hand. I had almost forgotten about it, so natural it had all felt. She gave my hand a little squeeze. 

"I love you Anne, I think you're a fantastic friend." 

"I love you too," I said. "But Wen, I want to go away and think about all this. And I want you to think more about it too. If I was going to have a threesome again, I think in theory it could be only be with people I cared about. I'm not against it, but I don't want something like this to ruin our friendship, and it worries me that it might. Give me some time to think about it. OK?" 

"OK," she said. 

I looked at my watch. 

"Wen, I've really got to get back to the office." 

She nodded, and then she leaned across the table and kissed me. Not a sexual kiss, just the innocent kiss of two close friends. Two close friends that were maybe about to get a lot closer, I mused to myself as I got up to leave. 

But no, that wasn't going to happen. It was too much of a risk. And did I really even want to do it? I didn't have a lot of friends in this town as it was, and she was my closest. I didn't want to risk wrecking that. But wasn't I doing that when I exposed myself in the car to Roger, while she was asleep? Wasn't thinking too much about the value of her friendship then, were you Anne? That was true, but even then, I felt I had somehow corrupted them; that it was my depravity that had led her to this, this proposition. But then she was saying that she and Roger had never been closer, and all this had brought them together. 

The more I thought about it, the more of a mess it seemed. Did I want to have a threesome with them? No, but also yes. I did want it, because I loved them both, as friends, and I knew it could be something very special, in the way that it had not been with those two jerks at Waldorf Fordham. But what if it went badly? What if Wendy was deceiving herself about how much she wanted it, or whether or not she could handle it? But she had seemed so adamant – she seemed almost possessed by the idea! 

Damn. I could think of nothing else all afternoon. I just sat there, staring at the screen, unable to concentrate. I felt all flushed, in a state of paralysis. Why did she have to come out with that?

But yes, I did want it. I wanted to do it. I was almost ashamed of myself for thinking of my friends like that. I thought of Wendy, lying on the beach as I massaged the oil into her body, the feel of my hands on her bare skin. Yes, she is sexy. I thought of how I had watched her go down on Roger in the car, wishing that it was my mouth wrapped around his cock, not hers. I want to fuck my closest friends. Normal people don't think like this. This is not how normal friendships are. And what would I be risking? Round and round in my head it went. Damn, Wendy, couldn't you have just kept the fantasy to yourself?

But if it was so traumatic, I thought, simply say 'no thanks'. But it somehow seemed to have gone beyond that. Was that really true? No, it was only true in that I wanted it. The torment was only in my own mind: I wanted it, but I was scared of the consequences. But she had made a decision, that was hers to make: she wanted to do it. Wendy is her own person. 

God, Anne, this is pathetic! 

I reached across to the keyboard. I selected new message and typed Wendy's work email. Subject: um, lunch meeting. I hit the tab key and the cursor made its way to the blank message box. But what was I going to write, say to her? I hadn't even made a conscious decision. Hitting the keyboards was as much just something to do with my hands in this state of agitation. 

The blank message filled the screen. I began to type. 

'Hi Wen, just thinking about our discussion over lunch.'

I paused, then took a deep breath as my fingers returned to the keyboard. 

'I've been thinking about your proposition. I'd like to do it. Let's do it.' 

I sat there studying what I had just typed. Three innocent looking sentences; innocent in isolation – we could have been talking about hooking up to see a movie. But we weren't talking about anything so mundane as that. My finger rested on the mouse. One click, and it would be done, decided. A minute or two passed. I looked at the message one more time. 

'Click'. 

And I watched the message window disappear. It was done. I felt somehow relieved, as if a weight had been lifted. 

A minute or so later I received a reply. It was Wendy. I eager clicked 'new message'. 

'Great! Fantastic – how about tonight?'

So soon! Having just agonized over it for what seemed like hours, it hadn't occurred to me that it would actually be tonight! Well, tonight, the next night, next week: what did it matter. Tonight. I sent my reply. 

Almost immediately came Wendy's response. 

'Brilliant! So looking forward to it hun. How about 7.30 at our place?'

I almost laughed. In a way it really did feel like we were organizing a night at the movies or something; something we might have done one hundred times before. Only this time we were arranging a time that suited us both, so that we would be able to get naked with one another and explore each other's bodies. And her husband's. God, was this really happening?

'Yes', I typed. 'Tonight'.



Car Show Slut Ch. 12



The sense of anticipation flooded my senses. I wanted it. I had to admit it. I wanted it badly, deep down inside. But it felt like I had entered some kind of high-stakes game, where failure carried heavy consequences. What if it went badly? It wouldn't just be embarrassing; it would probably also mean the end of our friendship. Well, it's all agreed it's going to happen, so whatever will be, from now on will be. But I knew I was highly enthusiastic about the coming night, really looking forward to it. I knew it because I caught myself watching the clock as I waited for the train to arrive to take me home. I still didn't have my car, so I would have to catch a cab from home to their place. 

Eventually I made it home. I poured a glass of wine and had a shower. I selected one of my short black dresses, with black pumps. What does one wear when one is going to have a threesome, I laughed to myself. I guess in the end it doesn't matter, because these clothes will be coming off sooner or later. But I wanted to look sexy. 

And I did look good. Looking at my reflection in the mirror, I thought, yes, you look hot. I smiled to myself. 

But I was nervous as I was waited for the taxi. I felt like a cigarette. I wasn't much of a smoker, but right now I needed one to calm my nerves. I went out onto the balcony and lit up. As it drew in the smoke, I heard a noise off the side. Mr Darcy. 

"Good evening, my dear!" he beamed when he saw me. I didn't really want to have to face him right that minute. "My, you're looking lovely tonight!" he observed as he looked me up and down. "A night out on the town?" 

"No Mr Darcy, just dinner with friends," I smiled. Dinner with friends indeed. I could have said: 'yes, Mr Darcy, I'm planning on a big night having sex with my two friends: a threesome, you know?' Of course, I wasn't going to say that, but then again how preposterous would it really have been to say such a thing? After all, I was talking to a man whose cock had been inside me only last night... This truly is a strange world. 

I thought on all this as I got into the cab that would take me to Wendy and Roger's place. I thought on this as I sat in the back watching the taxi driver control the car from the driver's seat, noticing that he wasn't that bad looking, for a taxi driver. Thinking of what may be to come, I kept getting this sense that somehow I had corrupted Wendy and Roger. I knew it was irrational, that whatever they'd worked out amongst themselves in their relationship was nothing to do with me, and likewise if their sex lives had somehow become supercharged as a result. Even so, the whole thing felt weird. Yes, I was looking forward to the night, although I had my apprehensions, but thinking about all that had happened to me over the past few months, and the fact that here I was sitting in a taxi being driven to my friends' place, so that we could, well, fuck each other, it just felt all so absurd, surreal. Like it was someone else's life. I seemed to have entered some kind of fantasy sexual realm. It was as though of late I had been acting out sexual fantasies that I would never have once contemplated. 

But what sexual fantasies? I couldn't ever remember fantasizing about sex with an eighty year old man. Or a fat, disgusting tattoo artist. Or taking my clothes off on stage in front of hundreds of men. Or jerking off some guy I hardly knew in the back of a car. Or sex with another woman. Or a threesome with two guys I hardly knew. Or even with a couple, Wendy and Roger, with whom I was good friends. I had never thought of any of these things as fantasies, but here I was acting them out -- and more besides.  

What were my fantasies? I couldn't think of any. I never much used to have sexual fantasies. Now things had changed. Not the fantasies, but everything else. Real life had changed. Something had changed in me over the past few months. My sexuality seemed to have exploded. Thinking about it in the taxi, it occurred to me that whereas in the past, I never much fantasized, daydreamed of sex at all, now I thought of it constantly. Sex is always on my mind. And most of the time, I'm feeling horny. Not really even frustrated; well, not most of the time. Just horny. I felt horny right now. I looked down at myself as I sat there demurely, legs crossed, but with most of my legs showing under the tiny, figure-hugging dress. Yeah, I looked hot. Sexy. Just looking at myself dressed like this; really, like a slut, it felt horny. It felt good. If things had changed, they had maybe changed for the better. I felt, well, I felt physical. Conscious of the blood cursing through my body. I felt in touch with myself. I felt alive.

Soon we arrived. I tipped the driver and got out of the car. I rang the bell and held my breath as Wendy opened the door. 

"Hi hon', glad you could come," she beamed, giving me a little peck on the cheek, as she so often did. She seemed casual, relaxed, as if this was just a 'normal' get together among friends. She was wearing a short black dress and stylish pumps, not unlike mine. She looked great. 

"Hi Anne," said Roger from the kitchen. "Like a drink?" he asked, brandishing a bottle of white. 

"Yeah, thanks," I said. 

"Here you go," he said. 

I took the glass and made myself comfortable on the sofa. Wendy joined me and Rog sat on the other sofa opposite. The lights were off but they had lit some candles. The light from the candles gave the room a golden, almost romantic countenance. 

We sat there in near silence for a few minutes, sipping our wine. It wasn't quite an uncomfortable silence, but it was verging on being so. After all, we weren't here for small talk. We were here for something else altogether. I decided I better start some conversation, if only to calm my own nerves. I was beginning to think already that this wasn't a good idea. 

"Nice wine," I said, and it was. I took another sip. 

"Yeah, it is, isn't it?" said Wendy with a nervous laugh. "It's Australian wine."

"Australian?" I said. "I didn't know they made wine there. I thought it was just a wild desert place with kangaroos and alligators. And that Australian TV show animal hunter -- Steve Irwin, is it?"

"Yeah, I've seen that guy," said Rog. "He's amazing!"

We all laughed. 

Wendy was glancing across at me from time to time. She was smiling. 

"You look great Anne," she smiled. 

"You too," I said. She grinned at me warmly. 

"You both look great," said Roger.

Then Wendy burst out laughing.

"Wah, what's wrong hun'?" Roger said, with a look of concern on his face, as if he had done something wrong. 

Wendy was splitting her sides in laughter. 

"Oh, I'm sorry!" she said, before breaking into another fit of chuckling. She was laughing so much she was almost crying. Wiping her eyes, she said: "Oh, it's just, well, well we all know what we're here for, and we know each other so well, and here we are exchanging ridiculous conversation with each other as though we've never met. It's so funny -- sad, but funny!" 

"Yeah, I guess you're right babe," Roger said. "It is a bit silly." I decided to keep quiet for a moment. 

"OK, look," said Wendy, clapping her hands down on her bare thighs. "I just want to say from the outset that it's cool with me if nothing happens, and it's cool if any one of us wants to stop at any point. I think we should understand and accept that. But I don't want to sit here all night beating around the bush!"

"Sounds fair to me," I said. I didn't know what else to say. Roger wasn't saying anything. He was just sitting there across from Wendy and I, looking us up and down. He looked nervous, but excited. You could almost feel the anticipation in his gaze, the lust. I could feel his sexual energy. It felt good. I could tell that Wendy could sense it too. 

"Hey Rog," she said quietly. "Do you think Anne and I look sexy?" 

Slowly, deliberately, he looked at each of us, examining our physical appearance.

"Oh yes, babe, yes," he said, almost in a low growl. "You two just look so, so sexy." 

She giggled. 

"Good! Well, what would you like to see us do, Rog?"

He didn't automatically respond. The look on his face was almost as though it was a trick question.

"Come on hun' what would you like us to do? Don't be shy. If you play your cards right," she added, her voice suddenly softer, sexier, but somehow playful, "you know you might get to have both of us tonight."

They both laughed, although I didn't. Right now I almost felt like a spectator. 

"Come on babe, tell us."

He paused for a moment. Watching him there opposite, he did look very sexy in the candle light, dressed all in black. The light of the candle was shining against his expensive looking black leather shoes. Yes, he looked hot. 

"Spread your legs," he said finally. "I want to see." 

Wendy glanced across at me, smiling, with a devilish look on her face. 

"OK," she said. 

I watched her as she slowly opened her legs. She looked down at her thighs as she did, and then lifted the hem of her dress up a little, just so as to make sure he could see.

"Like that?" she said, looking straight at him, legs spread wide, her hand playing with the hem of her dress, now basically up around her waist. Even from where I sat I could see her black g-string. I could hardly believe what I was seeing. I could hardly believe how sexy she looked. God, she seemed to drip sex; her sexuality was palpable, commanding of attention. Her bare legs were shining golden in the candle light. She looked across at me, waiting. Roger was now looking at me too. 

There was no question as to whether or not I was going to do it. I had already done it once before for Roger, after all. But it was as if I was following Wendy by example. I wanted to match her sexiness, not so much compete, just match her. Show myself, my essence, watch the look on Roger's face as he stared at my shameless slutty body, legs opened for him, and for his girl, like a common whore. Yes, that's what I wanted.

I fixed my gaze on him. Strangely, it was not the memory of the night in the back of the car that came flooding back, but rather the night at the strip club, when after my 'act' had concluded, I sat there in the back and opened my legs for that black security guy. I thought of that as I slowly opened my legs, spreading them wide apart, watching as Roger almost seemed to gasp for air. Wendy was watching me too, but I was only aware of her on the periphery. My sexuality was locked into her man. I stared at his crotch. Yes, he had a hard on. Good. I'm giving him a hard on. I opened my legs wider. I could feel myself beginning to breathe more heavily. I could feel myself moistening, the blood pumping through my body. Yes, look at me Roger. Look at me! I spread my legs as wide as I could, wider than Wendy's. I looked across at her, sitting on the sofa, opening our legs, each of us, and showing everything to her man like a couple of common whores. I reached my hand down and lifted the hem of my dress, making sure Rog could see. 

Oh yes, he could see. His mouth was slightly parted. He was entranced. Slowly, deliberately, he looked me up and down, drinking in my shamefully exposed loins, then turning his gaze to his fiancé, and then back to me again. There was a hint of a smile on his face. His cock was unmistakably hard in his trousers. The expression on his face was as though he was the cat that had eaten all the cream. 

"Mmm, I've never seen anything sexier," he croaked through a dry throat. 

"I'm glad," Wendy purred, as her hand slid down between her legs to cup her pussy. 

"So, babe," she said, as she gently began to rub herself, "what should we do now?" 

He paused again. But I could tell he was more relaxed now. The evening was off and running, so to speak. 

"Kiss, I want you to kiss each other." 

Wendy turned to me and smiled. I looked into her eyes. They seemed to almost sparkle in the golden light. She looked magnificent. 

"OK?" she said to me softly. 

"Yes," I breathed. My cheeked felt flushed. My body felt almost overheated. 

She moved in closer, slipping her warm hand in mine. We looked into each other's eyes as she leaned in towards me. She was smiling, beaming. So was I. I felt my pussy throb as the realization hit me, the look of lust in my friend's eye, the fact that Wendy and I were about to kiss one another not as friends, but as lovers -- we were about to become lovers. My mind flashed back, recalling all those times she and I would go out to night clubs looking for guys, sitting in bars and making a silly game of assessing any hot guy that came into the room, never in those times for a moment ever contemplating that we two would be sharing a sexual experience with each other. It would never have occurred to me at all back then, and I'm sure it would not have to her. 

I could sense my heart pounding as I leaned towards her. Ever closer, until our lips met. The touch of her soft wet lips on mine was like an electric surge through my body. It felt almost as though my soul cried out in joy as I kissed her, my lips parting, opening for her, my tongue sliding against hers. I kissed her. God, I kissed her. I pulled her to me, holding her tightly, my hand clasping the back of her head as I drew her to me. Our tongues danced inside our mouths. She moaned inside my mouth and I moaned back into hers. I felt like I was going to cum, or simply weep; I did not know which. I could not hold her more tightly! I almost didn't want the moment to end, to embrace my friend and share with her our sexuality. Our breasts mashed together as we held each other, squeezing, our mouths caressing, exploring... 

Then she broke off the kiss.

Wendy looked deep into my eyes as I stroked the side of her cheek. 

"Let's go into the bedroom,' she breathed into my mouth. Then she kissed me again.

Roger stood up as we got up off the sofa. I had almost forgotten about him. We went into the bedroom. 

"What now, Rog?" she asked, twirling the hem of her dress, playfully lifting it up above her hips. "What should we do now?" 

"Undress each other." 

With that, Wendy turned to me, and with a determined look on her face she reached her hands behind her back, unzipping her dress. I met her gaze and did the same with my dress. I reached to her and slid the already loosened garment over her shoulders. She was not wearing a bra. Her generous breasts sprang free. God, there she was, my Wendy, naked from the waist up: her tits were so beautiful! So round, so firm; ooh, so sexy! I could not help myself. I reached my hands to them, cradling them, feeling their firmness. Wendy just stood there, motionless, as I enjoyed her precious mounds. God, I wanted to lick them, engulf her stiffening nipples in my mouth, savor them. But something held me back; something about the moment wasn't quite right. 

I went back to undressing her. I pulled the dress down her body, over her hips, down to the floor. She stepped out of it, now wearing nothing but her black g-string and heels. Roger was off to the side, watching it all. I bent down, my own dress slipping off my shoulder as I did so. I got down on my knees, level with her hips. I was on fire. I was about to strip my friend naked. I slipped my fingers inside the elastic of her g-string and slid it over her hips, exposing her. She was shaved, just like me. She stepped out of her panties when they hit the floor. I stayed before her on my knees, marveling, drinking in her sex. I leaned forward, gently grabbing her hips. Close enough so that I could kiss her. I couldn't resist. I was drawn to her; not knowing for sure that she wanted to go that far, but unable to stop myself. I held her hips in my hands. I kissed her navel, sliding my tongue down her soft skin till I reached her. I kissed her. I let my tongue run down over her cit. She moaned. I moaned. Oh God...

Then Wendy reached down and encouraged me to my feet. Now it was time for her to undress me. I stood there passively as she examined my dress. 

"You look so hot," she panted. 

It thrilled me to hear it. 

"You too, Wen. God, you're so sexy!" 

Roger hadn't needed any help undressing. He was already naked, his hard cock pointing shamelessly to the sky, the tip leaking. He was just standing there, staring. 

I stood there as Wendy slid the dress off my shoulders and down my body, just as I had done with hers. She bent down. I watched as Roger now gently stroked his hard cock, as I felt Wendy's fingers slide inside my g-string and encourage it down over my hips, down my legs. I stepped out of it. Now we were both naked, apart from our slutty heels. 

Wendy stood up. 

"I can't," she said. "I'm not ready for that yet." 

For a moment I didn't understand what she meant, but then I realized. I had licked her when I removed her panties. That's what she wasn't ready to do. 

I smiled. "Hey, that's OK," I said. 

Now were both sitting on the bed, naked, but not really sure where this was going to go from here. Roger soon resolved that problem. He came in towards us, hard cock slapping against his abdomen as he walked, till he was standing right in front of Wendy and I. His cock was right there in front of our eyes. Like that it looked enormous, as if it towered over us.

"Mmmm, look at that," Wendy said as she reached across to wrap her hand around her man's cock. Gently she began to slide her fist up and down. Roger's cock was shining in the light, the precum that had been seeping out as he watched our 'show' providing all the lubrication his woman needed. 

I just sat there, watching in fascination as she pumped Roger's shaft. I had never thought of myself as any kind of voyeur, but now I found myself remembering the trip back from the beach when I had surreptitiously watched Wendy suck her man, and how spellbound I was, how wet it made me to see something like that, such intimacy between two people two people I knew so well. 

And now was I was going to see it again. Wendy had maneuvered herself in closer; she was going to suck him. I sat on the bed and watched her as she licked his balls, running her tongue up the shaft, up and down, licking it like a lollypop, purring sexily as she did. Rog was moaning gently. When she eventually reached the head, I watched her as she swirled her tongue around it, coating it with the juices of her saliva till it shone in the light. And then she plunged her mouth down over the shaft. Rog let out a low growl. Oh God, I could hear the faint squelching sound as Wendy's mouth bobbed up and down her man's cock. She plunged down on him, taking him all the way. She looked up into my eyes as her lips reached his trimmed pubic hair, as if searching for my reaction to what she was doing, what she was showing me. There was a fire in her eyes to match her red hair, an aggression in her face I had never noticed before. Ooh, it was a look of pure sex, pure lust. I leaned in closer, as if to feel the heat. I could feel myself getting wet as I rubbed my legs together almost involuntarily, as if trying to scratch an itch; my pussy was seeping uncontrollably. I wanted to plunge my hand between my legs, almost needed to, but somehow I couldn't let myself go that far. But it was enough just to watch. And Roger's cock, God, it seemed almost regal; powerful, with an enormous, undeniable presence, as if it dominated the room. 

Then with a light smacking sound, Wendy's let it slip out of her mouth. She was still holding the cock in her hand as she lifted her head to me. Her red hair was in her eyes; she had a wild look about her. She pointed Roger's cock towards me, as if gesturing it, offering it. 

"Do you want to?" she asked. 

"Are you sure?" I asked, and then suddenly realizing the silliness of what I had just said. One look in her eye was enough to know: oh yes, she was deadly serious about it. 




Car Show Slut Ch. 12



"Yes," she said with a kind of deep growl that seemed to have come from nowhere. "Yes, I want you to suck my man's cock." 

I looked up at Roger. His eyes were pleading. His cock was pumping out another bead of sticky white fluid. His head looked as if it was about to explode. 

It was a moment of reckoning. My friend was offering her man's cock to me. Did I want to suck him? Oh yes. I wanted Roger's cock in my mouth, wanted it badly, as if to confirm that, yes, that night in the car, yes, it's true: I'm just a dirty little slut that is only good for sucking cocks. Yes, I wanted Roger's cock; maybe I had always wanted it all along. I reached out my hand. I could feel their eyes upon me as my hand wrapped around Roger's member. My hand suddenly felt small as it clasped this thick, impressive appendage. I squeezed it gently, getting used to the feel of it, its warmth, squeezing out another bead of precum. Ooh, yes, it was so sexy to watch the clear fluid seep out of the tip; so, so forbidden! And yet I had full permission. I felt my mouth watering. Yes, I am going to suck Roger's cock. I want it, I want that thing in my mouth; my lips around best friend's man's cock and right in front of her eyes! 

I licked the underside, looking up at Wendy as I did, as if seeking approval, or was it just a show, a declaration of my depravity? Whatever, there was certainly no question of her not approving; the look in her eye said it all. She was spellbound, in raptures, focusing completely on my face, my mouth, my tongue as I licked her man's cock. It was wet, wet with her salvia, sticky wet with his precum. I ran my tongue up the shaft till I reached the tip. Wendy's eyes were like balls of fire as she watched me. I swirled my tongue around the head of Roger's cock, my eyes fixed on Wendy's as I did, watching her gasp, hold her breath as I slid the tip of my tongue across the eye of her man's cock. My pussy was seeping now, my inner thighs damp with my depraved wetness. I was almost out of control. I was even enjoying watching her reaction, reveling in my boldness as I fixed her gaze while I enjoyed her man as only a woman can. I had done some things lately that some might ascribe as sluttish, but nothing I had ever done had ever made me feel like a totally degraded dirty little fuck slut like this. And it felt so, ooh, so good! I felt I had reached a cross road, tipped over into an unknown place, gone further, far further, than ever before, or that I would have thought possible. I felt powerfully horny. I plunged my hand between my legs. I didn't care that they could see me doing it. Fuck it, I thought as my brain boiled inside my overheating body, fuck it; I'm a slut for doing this and I'm going act like the dirty little slut I am! 

I looked at Wendy, letting her see my need, my depravity. And I could tell the look in her eye almost mirrored mine. It was as though I could read her thoughts through her eyes: the panic, the depravity, the guilt. It was lust laced with love when she and I had kissed; now it was something altogether different. It was pure, latent fire. 

It was time. I parted my lips wide and plunged down hard on Roger's cock, jamming it down my throat, feeling its power as I let it violate my slut mouth. I never took my eyes off Wendy has a swallowed her man's cock, and as I did I watched her gasping for breath, her face screwed up in a kind of pain. Only it wasn't pain; it was pure lust. 

"Oh, God! Oooh!" she grimaced as she watched me take her man deep into my mouth. 

Her words, her energy, her sexuality, her approval, her disapproval, all of it hit me deep to the core like a throb; I felt my loins convulse in ecstasy as I lifted my head and let Rog's cock flop out of my mouth, just so I could run my salivating tongue the full, enormous length, licking him from his balls right back up to the tip, lavishing the eye and then plunging back down again, all the way, all the time watching my friend's reaction. 

Her mouth was open, her lips parted. She looked almost in shock. I could hear Roger groaning, could feel the vibrations of his groans right through his cock. 

"Oh, oh, God, I'm going to cum if you keep doing this!" he howled. 

I stopped. For a moment I was tempted to keep going, to make him cum, cum in my mouth, fill my dirty mouth with the sperm of my friend's man while she watched. Yes, that was what I wanted, but I knew, men being men, that it would be all over after that. It felt like we were only just getting started! 

Rog was slumped on the bed, as if catching his breath. Wendy was looking at me, not saying anything. Then she leaned across and took my hand. She maneuvered me further up the bed. She pulled a pillow from under their immaculate queen size bed, and then laid me down. She leaned over me, panting wildly, and kissed me gently on the mouth. 

"I want you to fuck him now," she said.

I didn't say anything. I just lay there. Yes, I wanted to be fucked. I needed it. Needed to be fucked by Roger, desperately, fucked by Roger while his woman watched me. 

I lay there as Wendy took Roger by the hand, as if escorting him to me. I watched down between my spreadeagled legs, across my heaving chest and nipples pointing to the ceiling as Roger kneeled on the bed before me, his cock reaching for the sky, his eyes aflame. He lowered himself down, down onto my body. I felt the weight of his masculine frame, the feel of his skin as he lay down on top of me, sliding his arms under my body. He looked down at me, as if asking permission for what he was about to do. I felt the tip of his cock graze against my opening as he kissed me, kissed me gently at first and then invaded my mouth with his tongue. I was sopping wet. I felt my hips push up against him, willing him inside me. I glanced to my left, to Wendy. She was watching it all. Looking into my eyes, and then her gaze would dart down to the other end of the bed, watching the point where her man's cock was about to penetrate her best friend. 

She sat on the bed, holding my hand. Instinctively my other hand reached around to grab Roger's ass, and I felt the muscles of his ass contract as he pushed the head of his cock into me, maybe only an inch, but inside me. Oh God, Roger's cock was inside me! Wendy sighed as she saw it, her mouth opened, a look that combined wonderment and lust and something else on her face. Then she would quickly avert her gaze back to my face, as if not knowing where to look, or being unable but wanting to see everything at once. 

Roger looked into my eyes, a sly grin on his face now, almost a look of insolence. Like he was enjoying a dirty slut, knowing that a hard cock was all she craved, and it was he that was going to give it to her. Seeing that look on his face only magnified my craving. He was still barely inside me, barely even moving. I felt my muscles contract against him. God, he was teasing me! I was aware I was gently moaning now, moaning in need; God how I needed it! Please! 

"Fuck her," Wendy hissed with an aggression that almost startled me. "Do it, Rog, fuck her!"

With that, he moved, plunging his hard cock all the way inside me! Ooohh! Oh, it felt so good! My body convulsed as my senses fixated on the big cock inside me, on Roger's powerful body now pushing me into the bed, filling me, his strong arms wrapped around my small body as he anchored himself to my body, so he could thrust himself inside me even harder. Ooh, oh yes! 

Wendy was sitting there, watching, but her hand was between her legs, her mouth was open and her eyes were as if on stalks, wide, in total astonishment at what she was witnessing. 

"Oh God! Oh God! Oh God!" she cried as her finger plunged inside her, as she watch me being fucked by her man. "Oh! Oh! Oh! Yes! Yes! Fuck her darling -- fuck her! Ooh, yes!"

And he obliged, grunting as he heard his woman's chants of encouragement, thrusting his cock inside me, gripping my body powerfully. Ooh, and all the while Wendy squeezed my hand tightly, squeezing it almost in rhythm with her man's deep thrusts. She was looking deep into my eyes as Roger fucked me, fucked me hard; and the look of fierce lust on her face, the energy of it, almost seemed to tap into my desperate need. "Oh God, fuck me!" I heard myself scream. "Yes! Yes! Yes!" 

"Wait!"

Wendy had grabbed Roger, almost literally tearing him from me. 

"Wait. Roll onto your side," she said to me. "I want to watch, I want to see." 

I felt a stab of near pain as Roger pulled out me. I quickly rolled onto my side and Roger came around from the back, just as Wendy directed. Roger lifted my leg and positioned himself so that his cock could slide back inside me. Oh yes! 

Lying on my side, Roger gently fucking me from behind, my upper leg shamefully hoist skyward to give him easier access, I felt completely exposed as Wendy resumed her position on the bed, now completely entranced with the lewd sight I must have presented as her man's cock slid in and out of my wet hole. Roger's lower arm was wrapped around my shoulder, pinning my body powerfully against his so that he could better penetrate me. And it was all there to see; for her to see. 

He was grunting obscenely as he fucked me, filling me. I felt tiny; my God, he was so powerful! Wendy was still holding my hand, her mouth open, her eyes wide as she took in the bizarre scene. She was panting almost uncontrollably; there were tears in her eyes. But I could hardly stay focused, focused on anything other than what Roger was doing to me. There was a real violence to the way he was taking me, thrusting inside me so hard, thumping my body; oh God, oh God, I was going to cum, I could feel it building inside! "Yes Rog, yes Rog, yes, yes, yes, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!" I screamed. Wendy squeezed my hand tighter. Oh God, oh God, yes, don't stop! I was crying out, willing him on, to take me harder, harder! 

Then I heard Rog moan, felt his muscles contract. Oh God, he's going to cum! Wendy must have sensed it; she did, I could feel it through her hand. She half screamed and lunged across me to grab her man round the head and bring his lips to hers. I could her hear moaning and sobbing as she kissed him, just as his body convulsed and pumped the first load of his cum inside. Oh that moment, yes! God, they were near screaming in pleasure, and that raw emotion and the sensation of Rog's orgasm sent me over the edge. I felt like I had been rocketed into the sky and left to fall back to earth, in an exhilarating descent, faster, faster, faster! The sensation flooded through my body and everything slowed down, went quiet as a kind of peace descended upon me. 

Wendy was looking into my eyes now, studying me, smiling. She brought her lips to mine. We lay there as she wrapped her arms around me, around Roger, still spooned around my back, his hard, spent cock still inside me. She kissed me; I kissed her back. She looked deep into my eyes and kissed me again. It felt like we were looking into one another's souls. We were. At that moment I felt, I felt loved. And I loved her, my sweet Wendy. She was gently caressing the side of my face as I closed my eyes. Lovely, dazzling, indefinable images flashed across my brain as I felt myself sliding gently and wonderfully towards sleep.



Car Show Slut Ch. 14



The company was doing really well. The drama with Waldorf Fordham seemed to have sorted itself out, and now we were looking at stitching up a new deal with a top firm on the east coast. I'd be flying to Chicago tonight for a meeting with their executives. I do hate business travel, but it's part of the deal. Although the travel part can at least be a bit relaxing, it's like going on holiday but not being allowed to really enjoy yourself, to do what you really want to do. I hadn't been to Chicago in years, and I would have liked to visit the museum there, maybe even check out some of the blues clubs, but there probably wasn't going to be much time for that. 

I checked in at the airport. Damn, air travel is so tedious with all the security checks these days! I made my way on board amongst a sea of suited men making the usual daily business trip, along with a sprinkling of holiday making families. I settled into my seat and got comfortable, hoping to catch a little shut eye during the few hours in the air. 

It was a nice smooth flight, and soon I found myself zoning right out. I drifted into that deliciously sleepy corridor in which you're not quite asleep, but not fully awake, the mind wandering, wandering... Sexy thoughts began to drift through my consciousness. God, I thought to myself, as a bit of air turbulence hit the aircraft and jolted me back to the land of the living, I seem to be so damned horny all the time now! 

Once the plane had settled down again I returned to my daydreaming. I found myself recalling the night of the threesome with Wendy and Roger the previous week. I had had sex with Roger while Wendy watched and held my hand, and it was a totally amazing experience. But that wasn't the end of it after Rog had fucked me and we all feel asleep, not by a long shot. I remember waking up some time later that night, and feeling a hand gently caressing my leg. I opened my eyes and saw it was Roger. He was in the middle of the bed, with Wendy and myself on either side of him. Wendy was asleep, I could tell by her snoring. Rog was languidly rubbing me, his fingers drifting up to graze across my pussy. If he was trying to get me worked up, his ministrations were having the desired effect. Mmm, yes, it felt really, really good. 

"Hey Anne," I heard him say. "Are you awake?" 

"Yeah." 

"Are you horny?" he said, just as his finger slid casually along my wet slit. 

"Um, yeah." 

I felt him take my hand. He guided it over to his body, till it found his cock. I wrapped my fingers around the shaft. So hard. It felt very, very nice.

"Do you want to?" he said, gently dipping his finger inside me just a little. Mmm, ooh that felt good! 

"No, I don't think we should. Wendy's asleep." 

And I didn't think we should. It felt like I would be going behind her back if we did. I looked across at her prone form on the bed, and then I laughed to myself: I literally would be going behind her back if I fucked Roger now, because she was lying on her side with her back to us. How funny... Even so, here we were lying in bed together, her man and myself, naked, and basically masturbating each other while his wife lay asleep. 

"Oh, I don't think she'd mind, do you?" he said, gently fucking me now with his finger as he spoke, my hips beginning now to slowly gyrate against his rhythm. Yes... So good!

"Well,"I said, gasping for breath as he fingered me, "maybe -- oooh, that's nice! -- but Rog, I don't know," I said. "I'd rather not risk it. But let's just get some sleep." 

"OK," he said, withdrawing his finger. 

The trouble was, though, that he'd really heated me up. I was feeling real horny now. I laid back and tried to get to sleep, but I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. I wanted to roll over, climb on top of him and stick his cock inside me. That's what I wanted. I tried to get back to sleep but I just couldn't. Damn!

Oh what the hell, I thought. Anyway, would she really mind? After what we had just done? Damn it, I need it! I need it right now!

"Hey Rog, you still awake?" I whispered. 

"Yeah." 

"I can't sleep."

"Me neither," he said. "Are you still feeling horny?" 

"Yes," I said. I reached my hand across to Roger. I took his cock in my hand once more. It was still erect. My hand began to slide up and down his slick, hard shaft. I felt so bad to be doing it, but God it felt so good!

"Me too," he said, "especially with you doing that," he added with a soft little chuckle. "So, what do you want to do about it?"

I knew what I wanted to do about it. 

"Fuck me," I said. "Just fuck me." 

He didn't reply, and instead rolled over and embraced me, pushing me back onto the bed as he climbed on top of me. We kissed as he guided his cock towards my opening with his hand. I felt the tip rub against my swollen lips, up and down, so gently. His ass was arched high as he probed around my slit, rubbing the head of his cock up and down, up and down. He was taking his time, deliberately holding back before sliding the thing inside me, for which now I was waiting almost impatiently, panting, willing him to do it. I thought maybe he was making sure I was wet enough, but in reality I was more than ready. He was teasing me. God, I needed it. Please! 

"You like that?" he asked. 

"Yeah, good. Rog, stop teasing me and put it in. Please, put it in!" 

"You sound like such a little slut when you say it like that," he said, kissing me again, though still not entering me. But I moaned in pleasure at his words. He had called me a slut, even if indirectly, and it hit me to the core, sending a heavy throb through my veins. Slut. He called me a slut. I felt offended; he shouldn't call me a slut, but it made me feel so naughty! Slut. He's calling me a slut. Oh yes -- dirty little slut! 

"You like that?" he growled quietly as he finally pushed his shaft inside me.

"Oh yes, I love it." 

"Love what," said, pausing to kiss me again, "my cock inside you or me saying you sound like a slut?" 

"Both," I said. He kissed me again. 

He began to move inside me; slow, luxurious strokes. A nice, slow, sleepy fuck. Just what I needed so much! He kissed me again as he drove his shaft deep inside me. My God, Roger's cock felt so good inside me! His body seemed to fit my just so, just so right! And his cock, oh it was magnificent, just the right size, and God, he knew what to do with it!

"Mmmm," he whispered, "your body is so fucking hot Anne! And those piercings, my God that's sexy! So fucking slutty!

I bristled with pride as he described my body, as he so slowly and deliberately fucked me. Oh God, it was so, so nice! 

"Was it a man or a woman who did them?" he asked, before kissing me again.

"A man. Ooh, Rog, oh yes that's good!" 

"Oh wow, a guy did it. I bet he enjoyed his job that day." 

"Yeah," I giggled. "Oh yeah, he did!" 

God, I could hardly believe how bold I was being with him. But damn it felt good! 

"Oh yeah, I bet he did, especially doing the clit ring," he said, as he pushed his cock into me. 

"Mmmm, yes," I purred. 

"My God, Anne, if it had been me doing that piercing, I'd wouldn't have been able to control myself -- I would've have pierced you somewhere else as well! He plunging down hard on me, with real aggression, so that his pubic bone ground hard against my clit ring, demonstrating exactly how he would have pierced me. I thrust my pelvis up to meet him, jamming our bodies together hard. I grabbed his ass and drew him in closer, trying to force him as deep inside me as I could. I felt so wanton! 

"Oooh yess!" I squealed, trying to keep my voice down so as not to disturb the sleeping Wendy. 

"Oh Anne, did you want him to, did you want him to fuck you?" 

"Yes! Oh yes! Yes! I did!" 

"Ooohh!" he growled, "that's so slutty. Does it make you feel like a slut, those rings? Hmm?"

"Yes! Oohh it does, it does! I feel like a, ooh, like a dirty slut! Ooh, fuck me baby, fuck me! Ooh yes! 

We were talking dirty -- I'd never done that before with a lover. It felt wild, naughty, and all the more wicked in that I wasn't letting Roger know that yes, the tattoo guy did fuck me! I was really getting into it; it made feel all slutty in an odd way. I was surprising myself, saying things I would never normally say! 

"Ooh," he groaned, jamming himself inside me again, then gyrating his ass so that his cock moved inside me in a circular motion, "you like it, don't you Anne, you like to be fucked like a slut. Hmm?" 

"Yes, I love it, I love it!"

Oh this was taking me to the edge. He was dominating me, fucking me slowly, holding me so tightly that I felt like his plaything. I just surrendered to the sensations, letting him have me, take me, fuck me any way he wanted. Oh Rog was such a great lover, I would not have known it! 

"Oh Anne, when you and Wen were sitting on the sofa and you both spread your legs for me, oh fuck, I imagined I was in a whore house, and you too were the finest sluts of the house, and I had paid for you both, oh God you both looked so hot!"

"Ooohhh!" I screamed, as Rog thrust so deeply inside me, growling as did. God, I felt it, his muscles tightening, oh yes, yes, yes, yes, he was cumming! My muscles gripped his cock as he grimaced and unloaded his seed deep in my womb, oh God, it was so lovely. I didn't cum, I just couldn't let myself go like that with Wendy right there alongside us, and I was also trying to be a bit quiet, but still it was just so nice! I felt his final spasms as he slumped down on top of me. I held him tightly around the shoulder and kissed him on the mouth. We kissed for a few minutes, so beautiful, until eventually he pulled out and rolled off me. Very soon afterwards I must have fallen asleep. 

But even that wasn't the end of it. 

In the morning I awoke as the sun peeked through the blinds. I could hear something. It was Wendy and Rog. I opened my eyes and looked across, and there she was on her knees on the bed, her mouth bobbing up and down on Roger's cock. I saw her look towards me once she realized I was awake. She let Rog's cock slip out of her mouth. 

"Good morning babe," she said, leaning over to me. She kissed me on the mouth. I could taste Roger's cock on her lips. That pungent taste in my mouth suddenly had all my senses at attention.

"You want to share? Let's both do him!" she said, gesturing to her man's cock, which was still in her hand. Roger was lying on the bed. His cock was rock hard. I studied it for a moment. Yes, I did want to share it. I nodded to her and moved in close. 

"Suck him," she said. I took hold of Rog's cock. Nothing in the world seemed more natural right now than to have that thing in my mouth. I could feel my mouth watering as I contemplated what I was about to do. I licked the underside, running my tongue up the full length until I reached the head. I opened my mouth and let it slide against my tongue, and deep into my mouth. Mmmm...

I began to suck him with slow, long, deliberate movements. Wendy moved around so that she could lick his balls. I watched her take one of them into her mouth. We watched each other. 

"He's a real mouthful, isn't he?" Wendy said, letting his balls pop free from her mouth for a moment. She was smiling. 

"Yeah, he is," I almost giggled, before taking him into my mouth again. Soon Rog began to moan. I don't know how long they had been at it before I woke up, but it must have been some time, because clearly he was about to cum. Wendy sensed it too. 

"I think it's showtime, Anne," she announced. She seemed very relaxed, and in all that's how it felt; very different from the emotion-charged atmosphere of the previous night when we had been doing this. Now, as we both sucked and licked her man, it was lighthearted, almost playful. 

"Oh God," Roger groaned, "I'm going to cum!" 

"OK, Anne stop," said Wendy. "Hey Rog, how do you want this? Where do you want to cum, babe?"

I was almost shocked that she would say something like that, and say it so casually, as if asking did he want sugar in his coffee. 

"I want to cum on you both," he grunted. "I want to cum on your faces." 

Wendy looked at me, as if for a sign of approval. I kind of nodded back to her. I hadn't generally liked this in the past, but this seemed different. Well, it was very different, I had to keep reminding myself. This whole thing was more different than anything I'd ever experienced before. 

"OK," she said, moving in close to me, so close that our faces, our cheeks touched. "OK, we're ready. Cum for us babe, but don't let it go in our eyes, OK?" 

I couldn't believe how casual this all seemed. And I couldn't believe myself that I actually laughed when she said to not cum in our eyes, as if he had told some witty joke. Rog hauled himself up from his prone position on the bed to move in close to us, on his knees and right in front of our faces with that big cock. It was pointing right at us as he took it into his hand and began to jerk himself off. It didn't take long. I watched out of the corner of my eye as Wendy, eyes closed, lifted her chin up to his cock, and opened her mouth. I did the same, waiting in anticipation of The Moment. My God, I could hardly believe this was happening! It wasn't that it was really hitting my buttons as such, but in a weird way it was -- it just made me feel like a complete and depraved total whore. 

I watched his arm muscles contract. His head flung back. This was it. I suddenly had this sense of power, a pure visceral sense of sheer male power, and that I was facilitating it, causing it to explode, well, Wendy too, but that I was doing it right there with my friend, and doing it with a man that was hers, not mine. It felt intoxicating. I wanted to close my eyes in case they got hit by flying cum, but I wanted to see it, see the cum flying out at us, on us! And then it came. The first blast erupted as Rog growled in ecstasy, and it splashed across Wendy's chin and mouth. As soon as it did, she opened her mouth and let her tongue hang out, and caught the next load that way. Rog was cumming hard now, his naked body spasming hard, powerfully, thrusting towards us, the white fluid flying out; some it on my cheek, another blast landing on my chin. Almost without thinking I craned my neck forward and opened my mouth, craving, wanting, needing to feel the man's hot seed come directly out of his body and on my skin. And I got my wish, another load blasting across my opened lips, onto my tongue as it registered that vaguely salty taste, a taste unlike anything else known to man. Soon it was over. Rog slumped down on the bed, exhausted. I turned to Wendy. Her face was covered in semen. 

"You look a mess!" she smiled at me. 

I smiled back. She leaned in and kissed me on the lips, and I could taste Roger's cum everywhere in her mouth, and in mine. We rubbed our cheeks against one another, lubricated by the sticky fluid. We slumped down in the bed in an embrace, Roger's cum sticking to our bodies as we cuddled and kissed....

As I recounted that momentous night as I sat there in the aircraft, my hand was resting gently in my lap. I felt a deep and near uncontrollable urge to rub myself. But even though there was no one sitting alongside, there were too many people around, and the air hostesses were constantly parading up and down the isle. I couldn't. Not here. But I wanted to. Badly. 

My pussy throbbed as I sat there, daydreaming. I was feeling, not frustrated, just deliciously sexy. Even so, I felt the need, felt it intensely, and before long I was surreptitiously rubbing myself with my finger, very small movements, being careful to make sure no one could see. I sank myself further down in the seat to get more comfortable. Spreading my legs a little, not too much, certainly nothing that could be construed as improper, so I was able to anchor my shoes against the seat in front, so I could wiggle my hips just a little. Ooh, yes, so nice! I wasn't going to be able to make myself cum, and I didn't want to -- not here in public like this! But it was just so very mmmm! 

As the big aircraft hummed along in the sky I felt like closing my eyes and just losing myself in the sensations. It was so relaxing sitting there like that, kind of peaceful, the dull, droning roar of the engines creating an incessant yet comforting soundtrack to the journey. My eyes felt heavy. Yes, I could let them close for just a bit; it will be OK, no one will see. So relaxing... The guy across the isle was immersed in a book. He wasn't watching. I closed my eyes, as I continued to gently rub my index finger up and down across my clit. Mmmm. Then, as I heard the sound of footsteps coming down the row, I opened my eyes and held my hand still. It was one of the hostesses. I saw her smile at me as she went past towards the back of the aircraft. I could see it in her smile, by the expression on her face: I think she saw! I looked down at myself, legs spread, hand basically between my legs. Well, actually, it was pretty obvious what was going on. Yes, of course she knew... God, how embarrassing -- the hostess just caught me playing with myself! How could I have been so careless!

I had hardly had time to think before she was back. But this time she stopped at my row. For a split second I thought I was in some kind of trouble. She leaned across at me from the isle, smiling. "Ma'am, can I get you a blanket?" she asked, glancing down at my lap. "To keep your legs warm?"

I may have just been stupidly careless, but I wasn't too stupid to pick what she meant. She was smiling at me, but her gaze was gesturing at my nether regions. It wasn't that cold on board. I was pretty sure, because really there could be no other reason, that she was offering me a blanket so I could continue with what she'd just seen me doing before with a little more privacy...

"Er, yes, thank you, that would be lovely," I said sheepishly.

The girl was beaming. "OK, I'll be right back."

I was even more embarrassed now. But God, what a cute girl, I thought, as I watched her head back up the front of the aircraft. Well, she was no girl, she was probably my age, but very attractive: gorgeous honey blonde, pretty face, lovely smile, and a nice figure under that airline uniform. And, oh God, what a situation: unless I was mistaken, she was going to help me secretly masturbate on the aircraft! 

Soon she was back with a little blanket tucked under her arm. 

"Here, let me," she said. I sat there as she leaned across me to smooth the blanket over my thighs, tucking it down between the seats over either side of my hips. I noted that she made sure my arms were tucked in under the blanket - yes, she knew... I felt her fingers graze along my hips as she smoothed down the blanket. She was very thorough. 

"There," she said, looking up at me with a cheeky grin on her face.

I looked up at her, smiling meekly at my co-conspirator. "Thank you," I said. She was very cute. She smiled and leaned across the seat and bent down towards my face.

"Have a lovely flight," she softly whispered in my ear. I could smell her perfume, feel her breath against my neck, even feel her lips just gently graze my ear as she whispered... Ooh, it sent a jolting tingle to my nipples! 

I turned to face her just before she lifted her head away. I almost wanted to kiss her, but of course I wasn't going to do that. Her face was only inches from mine. I smiled at her.

"Thank you," I said into her eyes. "I will." 

She paused just for a moment. "Just press the button if you need anything else," she said with a smile, a knowing smile. I nodded, and then she was gone. 

I sat there thinking about what had just happened. I felt embarrassed -- but why should I? The girl wasn't making a big deal about it; in fact, she was helping me. I wondered if she was going back to tell the other airline staff, sort of like - 'check it out: the woman in seat 34B is fingering herself under a blanket'. Well, I had no way of knowing any of that, so why trouble myself with it? As it was, my hand was now concealed beneath the blanket, none of the other passengers were aware or could see, and I was just feeling real damn horny now. I let my hand stray down to my crotch. I lifted my skirt. Damn it, I thought, no one can see: I'm going to do it. I shifted in my seat so I could lift my skirt up and out of the way. I slid my hand down over my mound, over my panties. Yes, they were wet. I always seemed to be wet these days. And even feeling that wetness through my fingers, the engorged lips, that was hot in itself; it was just so wrong to be masturbating on an aircraft! I spread my legs a little wider. The blanket covered everything. No one could see. And the row of seats behind me was vacant. I felt safely concealed as my fingers found the side of my panties, and pulled them to one side, out the way. I closed my eyes. Oh yes, so wet... 




Car Show Slut Ch. 14



It felt so wicked as I worked my finger along my swollen clit, with the maybe hundred or so other passengers completely ignorant of the fact. Ooh, yes, it felt so good! I soon realized I wasn't going to make myself cum, I felt just too exposed to really let myself go, but it was lovely all the same. A couple of times the hostess came past me in the isle. She smiled as she went. She knew, she knew exactly what I was doing... And I didn't even mind. I just smiled back at her. It felt good to do that. Really good. Empowering, somehow. I felt, well, not exactly like a slut, but kind of liberated, liberated to act like a slut, or something like that. I wondered what she thought of me: did she think I was a slut? Did she think it was sexy, me playing with myself in front of her? I was pretty sure she enjoyed it. 

Soon enough we landed. I smoothed down my skirt and got up, grabbing my bag from the overhead compartment. I saw the hostess again at the front of the aircraft as we disembarked. 

"I hope you had a pleasant flight," she smiled, ignoring the other passengers. "Please come again soon." 

Very funny, I thought to myself. "I plan to," I replied with a grin, doing my best to stop from laughing. She looked like she was about to burst out laughing too. "Yes," I said, "it was very pleasant fight, thank you for making it so." 

I caught a taxi from O'Hare to the hotel. The conference would be taking place there in one of the convention rooms. It was quite a plush establishment. I checked in and was shown to my room. Yes, nice place indeed: very modern, beautifully appointed. It even had a spa. 

I unpacked my computer. It was now early evening, but I still had a few hours' preparation to do for the morning meeting. I got to work. It was boring, tedious stuff, but I had to be fully across the brief. I was finding it hard to concentrate as my mind wandered back to the little episode on the aircraft. Wow, that had really been something. Soon enough I realized I was just getting nothing done, I wasn't concentrating. It was mostly done; I could finish this in the morning, just set the alarm for a little earlier. I was getting hungry, but before dinner I wanted to try out that spa bath. A nice spa bath, and then down to the hotel restaurant for a meal. Then off to bed. 

I stripped off and slid into the spa. Mmm, nice. The bubbling water felt so wonderful, and soon I found myself rubbing my body, my hand straying between my legs. Ooh, yes, so luxurious... I lay there, water bubbling all around me, steam coming off my body as I finished off what I had started sitting on the plane...

Feeling wonderfully rejuvenated, I dried off and dressed for dinner. I just had my beige skirt and white blouse, basically what I'd be wearing tomorrow. I like to travel light. I did have my little black dress as well, but it wasn't as though I was going out on the town or anything. Maybe I might wear that tomorrow night, if there's time to go out and see the sights. 

The restaurant was very nice. Good food, excellent wine, and great service. I tipped the waiter generously and he thanked me. It is nice to get good service, and I don't mind rewarding it. In any case, the company was paying...

I was going to head back up to my room but after the meal I felt like a little smoke. I know I shouldn't, but I do like the very occasional cigarette, and I was a long way from home. Why not? Down to the bar, a quick drink and a smoke, then off to bed. 

I found a seat at the hotel bar and ordered a glass of wine. There was a woman sitting just across from me. 

"Hi," she smiled. I greeted her back. She was dressed, well, a little sluttish, I thought: tiny little black dress, big heels. The dress was showing lots of cleavage. But she seemed nice enough. 

"Working?" she said. 

"Yeah," I replied. 

"Me too."

I was about to ask her what was her line of work when a man came and sat down next to her. She turned to him and I watched them as they exchanged pleasantries. It seemed to me that they didn't know each other. I just sat there, with my glass of wine and cigarette, and listening into their conversation. Very soon they seemed to be getting real close. Gee, that was pretty smooth of him, I thought, just sidling up to her like that. But then look at what she's wearing -- she's practically asking for it dressed like that. 

Another man walked up to the bar. He sat on the stool next to me, waiting to order his drink. 

"Hi, I'm Bill," he said to me. He was dressed in a suit, your typical middle aged businessman, a tall man, rather fat around the middle, slightly weathered around the face. 

"Hi," I replied. "Anne." We shook hands. 

"Are you working?" he asked. Funny, it was the same thing the woman had said. Strange. 

"Um, tomorrow I am," I said. He laughed, as if I'd told some really funny joke. I was beginning to think this guy was some kind of weirdo. Then his cell phone rang.

"Excuse me a moment," he said as he took the call. I couldn't help but listen in as he discussed some kind of business. Meanwhile the couple next to me seemed to be getting rather intimate indeed. His hand was on her leg. He was asking her a question, but I couldn't quite hear what he had said. But I did hear her reply. 

"Honey," she said to him, "I'll blow you for $50. Double it and you can fuck me." 

Oh my God, she is a hooker! I almost choked on my wine. And then I suddenly realized -- that must have been what she meant when she asked me was I 'working'! She assumed I was a hooker, too! I saw the man pay the tab, and then they left the bar together. But then, as the other man continued with his phone call, I suddenly understood why he had laughed, why he'd found my reply so funny -- he had said exactly the same thing to me: he said 'are you working!' He thinks I'm a hooker too! 

I felt so embarrassed. Time to get out of here. I downed my drink and got to my feet. The man was still on the phone. When he realized I was leaving, he held his hand over the phone and said: "Hang on babe, don't go -- I'll be finished this call in a minute." 

But I was going. "No, I'm sorry, I have to go now," I said, and I walked briskly out of the bar, not looking back, and headed for the elevator in the lobby. 

My mind was spinning as I took the elevator to my floor. What kind of place was this? I thought it was an expensive high-class hotel. Is that the way things run in this town? What, is this a pickup joint for hookers?

I found my way to my room. God, if I'd waited any longer at the bar that guy would have offered me money for sex! I was shocked. I felt agitated, though not really knowing why -- I mean, really, it was almost funny, what had just happened. I thought I maybe should now sit down and finish my work, and yet my mind felt kind of overheated. I was aware of my heart pounding in my chest. There was no point opening the computer, I wouldn't be able to concentrate on work; I was too worked up. Instead I switched on the TV and ordered a bottle of wine from room service. 

But I couldn't get the little bar scene out of my mind. Right now, I thought to myself, at this very minute I could have been in that guy's room, accepting his money and spreading my legs for him! Me - a hooker! 

But then, I remembered, hadn't I once already actually done just that? Been a whore? The time at the Buck's Night? Oh yes, I had more or less accepted money to suck the barman's cock. Wasn't that the same as being a hooker? How was that really any different? That had been a strange night. But the memory of it was still clear, even if I had been drunk at the time. But I wasn't that drunk. I remembered it all. He put the money in my purse, and then put his cock in my mouth. I still have the $200 -- it's on a vase on the refrigerator back home. I decided to keep it there, separate. Dirty money. 

I had often looked at the money in the vase and pondered the fiscal absurdity of it - as distinct from the simple shocking, disgusting fact that I accepted his money to suck him - of how I came to 'earn' that two hundred. Because for what was a matter of 10 minutes' 'work', I was paid far, far more than I could ever hope to earn in my profession. In a free market economy such as ours, the simple mathematical reality was that my body was worth more -- a lot more, in fact -- than my brain. And I'm no lowly factory worker -- I'm very well paid, occupying a position of status and clout. It was an incongruous notion. 

Yes, I remembered that night well. I remembered how disgusting I felt, but I remembered that even while his cock slid in and out of my mouth, my own hand was between my legs. What a dirty little slut he must have thought I was as I slid my finger inside me while his cock was in my mouth. I was only of value as a plaything for his pleasure. I remember him telling me what a slut I was as I fingered myself in front of him, and I remember how great it felt to be just so, so bad. Yes, at some point I had actually enjoyed being bought and paid for, at least at the time it was happening. For a moment I was not a high-paid consultant, but just a cheap and shameful slut with a cock in her mouth. 

It was strange. I had to admit it; it had been an exciting experience, in some ways, on some level, how ever embarrassing, and how ever degrading. But it was almost the idea of being a slut that was more exciting than the actual reality of doing it. The reality carried a sense of deep shame, and yet I felt ashamed now. Ashamed that all of this was making me wet. I was sitting on the couch, feet up on the coffee table. I reached between my legs. I thought of how that barman's cock felt in my mouth. I couldn't even remember his name. My nipples were straining against the material of my bra. I undid my blouse and tossed it on the floor. I took off my bra. I took my breasts in my hands, squeezing them hard, tweaking my nipples with my fingers. They were rock hard. They almost ached. God, I was so horny! 

Then the door bell chimed. Shit -- it's room service with the wine! 

"Be there in a minute!" I yelled as I jumped up, smoothed down my skirt and threw on my blouse, fastening the buttons as I went to the door. The room service person was a young guy, probably early 20s. As soon as the door opened his eyes went straight to my tits. I let him in. 

"Just there on the table," I said, and he placed down the tray. "Thank you." 

He just stood there for a moment, still staring at my tits. He seemed unable to direct his gaze anywhere else. Then he said, with a nervous tone in his voice: "Anything else, ma'am?" 

"No, that will be all." 

He was still staring. 

"If you need anything else, anything at all, just ring room service and ask for David." 

"OK, thank you." 

And then he was gone. I looked down my body. Damn it -- this blouse is practically sheer with no bra! He must have been able to see right through it! No wonder he kept staring. I should have been offended, mortified, but instead I found myself wondering what he must have been thinking as he ogled my tits: yes, he was probably thinking, 'God, look at those tits, she's practically naked - I can see everything. I'd love to get my hands on those, lick those nipples'. I went into the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror. Oh yes, there was nothing left to the imagination. He would have seen everything. 

I rubbed my tits through the blouse, watching myself in the mirror. Yes, I bet he wanted to do something like this: touch my tits, feel them, lick them. That's why he said was there 'anything else' he could do for me -- here I am, displaying myself in front of him: I bet he was hoping I'd invite him in to fuck me! I know his name. God, I'm so horny -- maybe I could call him up here again?

No! Anne, you can't fuck the room service guy! But why couldn't I? I couldn't answer that. But I just couldn't. And no, I didn't want to fuck him. But I thought about him looking at me; God, yes, that's what I wanted - I wanted him to see me again, only with me aware of what he was seeing. I wanted to show myself, let him see, watch the reaction on his face, feel his lustful gaze on my body, knowing that he just wants to fuck me. I was just feeling so frustrated now; I felt as if cooped up in a cage. I needed to get out of this room. I wanted to be around people; I wanted there to people who might notice me, talk to me, look at me, want me. 

Maybe I could go back down to the bar? What, and have people think I'm a hooker again? Well, I thought, people can think what they liked. And as I thought more on this, it occurred to me what a shockingly titillating notion that was -- that people might think I was a whore. If I got dressed up, went down there and ordered a drink, in this place people would think I was a whore. The very idea sent a shiver down my spine. People would think I was a whore. And who would these people be? I am hundreds of miles from home. No one here knows me. They would be people I don't know. I could do whatever I liked here, and no one I know back home would ever know about it. I could pretend to be a whore and who would ever know? Sitting there, dressed like a slut, guys looking at me like I'm a cheap whore, imagining shoving their cocks in my mouth, fucking me... How would that make me feel...?

I took my clothes off. Yes, I'm going to dress up, get out of this room and go for a drink. What's wrong with that? I slipped on my little black dress. I didn't bother with a bra. I grabbed my black pumps. I looked in the mirror. Yes, I looked hot. I put some lipstick on, bright red. Like a slut wears her lipstick For a moment it crossed my mind that the dress wasn't short enough, but I quickly admonished myself for such an absurd thought. The dress is plenty short, only about five inches below my ass. And my tits looked good in it without a bra. The material was a light synthetic, and my erect nipples were clearly visible. It opened at the front in a v-shape, so it showed plenty of cleavage. It felt good on my body, too. The dress was rather tight fighting, hugging my every curve. I turned to the side. Yes, there was a visible panty line. Take them off. No one will ever know. Yes, that's better. 

I downed my glass of wine, grabbed my handbag and left the room. I pulled the door closed behind me and headed for the elevator. I pressed the ground floor button and the elevator started going down. It stopped a few floors from the end, and two guys in suits got in. Straight away I noticed them looking at my tits. I looked down at my body. My nipples were hard, poking luridly against the thin material of my dress, utterly unmistakable Yes, they were ogling me, not making it look obvious, but they were. I just stood there silently, pretending to ignore them. But I knew they were checking me out, and knowing they were almost filled me with a sense of pride. Yes, guys, look at me, look at my tits, look at my nipples!

We all got off at the ground floor. They headed for the hotel exit as I made my way towards the bar. Yes, this was a good idea. I was feeling almost carefree, light. I was conscious of my breasts, free from the constraints of a bra, gently shifting up and down as I walked. It felt good, sexy. 

And if anyone thought I was a hooker, well, that was their problem. I wasn't dressed like a hooker, really; I was just dressed sexy, stylish. And anyway, I had been wearing my work clothes before and people still thought I was a hooker! What a strange town this is! 

I entered the bar. There was almost no one there. But over in the corner, sitting at a table, there was one man. Oh God, it was the same guy as before, the guy with the phone! He was on the phone even now. He didn't notice me come in. I took a stool at the bar and ordered a glass of wine. I lit up a smoke. After about five minutes and there was still only myself, the barman and the man on the phone, I was starting to feel this had all been a bit of an anticlimax, a stupid waste of time. But what had I really been expecting? I think I must have imagined coming down here and being amongst a crowd of noisy, happy drinkers, but instead it was more like a ghost town. Maybe I should go out somewhere? But I didn't know where to go, and in any case, it was already quite late. I didn't want to make a long night of it before my presentation tomorrow, and it was already after 10pm. And I didn't really like the idea of being out alone in a strange city, especially dressed like this. 

I noticed the man look up at me once or twice. He was still talking on the phone. I wondered what he must be thinking, if anything, about me. If he remembered me from before, he would be aware that I had changed clothes. Probably makes him even more certain I'm a hooker, I thought to myself. 

What if he came up to me again? What would I do? If he propositioned me? There didn't seem much prospect of that, though: he was engrossed in his call. He was basically ignoring me. But what really was I doing here? Was I just here for a drink, or was I here masquerading as a hooker? This was ridiculous. I was beginning to feel very foolish indeed. 

I took another sip of wine. The glass was nearly empty. I'd been there a good fifteen minutes now. I was starting to get restless, bored. The man was still on the phone, and still no one else had come into the bar. 

Why wasn't he looking at me? I was pretending to idly look around the deserted room, but I kept glancing at him, just to see if he was looking my way. But he wasn't. I actually felt disappointed. Maybe I could give him a little show? That would get his attention. Oh, what was I doing? I was feeling rather foolish indeed now; here I am, in a deserted bar, hoping that the only man here, a man I didn't even find attractive, would look at my body and admire me. I felt agitated. I finished my drink. This hadn't been a good idea. I thought it might be best if I just went back up to my room and called it a night. But first I just wanted to see if I could get his attention. Just once. 

I shifted on my seat, and slid my body around so I was partly facing him. I took a deep breath as I uncrossed my legs. I let my legs open a little as I pretended to search through my bag for something. Still he wasn't looking. Damn. I put my bag back on the bar. I took another breath. With my elbows resting on the bar, I looked directly at him as I opened my legs and looked straight at him. Ooh, that felt good, such a wicked thing to do -- and I'm not wearing panties! And yes, that did it. He was looking straight at me now, his gazed fixed on my legs. Oh yes, now I had his full attention. I looked away, crossing my legs once more, as if nothing had happened. But God, what did I just do!

I saw him put the phone down. He stood up. He was coming towards me. I thought I'd better go now, but he was alongside me at the bar before I could get to my feet. 

"Hi," he said. "Can I buy you a drink?" 

Hmm, cliché pickup line time, I mused to myself. Must have heard that one a thousand times. 

"No thanks, I was just leaving." 

"That's a shame. Hey, weren't you here earlier? It's Anne, isn't it?"

"Um, Angie, it's Angie." Oh God, I thought, as the sobriquet somehow spilled out of my mouth; what was I thinking? Oh well, Angie, Anne, who cares? I'll just have a quick chat with him and then I'll be off. 

"Nice dress," he said, looking me up and down. "I thought you said before that you weren't working tonight."

"That's right, I'm not working tonight."

"Hmm, that's a shame." 

There it was -- he does think I'm a hooker! Here I am talking to a man and I know he thinks I'm a whore, and I'm basically playing along! I felt shameful, yet so deliciously naughty at the same time! And I had almost played the role -- I'm 'not working tonight'. Of course I'm not working -- work for me starts in the morning. But it actually gave me a little thrill to know that my innocent reply could be taken to mean something else, something else entirely. I hadn't actually come out and said, 'yes, I'm a hooker'. 




Car Show Slut Ch. 14



He was checking me out, too, his eyes drinking in my body. I looked down my chest. The opening in the front of my dress was rather dramatic. You could almost see half my breast. He was looking at my tits very intently. 

"So, um, you're working tomorrow, not tonight," he said. 

"Yes," I replied with a little chuckle. Somehow I found him funny, in an absurd kind of way. 

"Well," he said, glancing down at his watch, "tomorrow is only an hour or so away now. In fact, on the east coast, where I come from, right now it already is tomorrow." 

"Hmm," I said in reply, "is that right?" 

I could feel my breath quicken, my heart beating fast in my chest. He seemed prepared to push the point. I was playing it cool, but I wasn't sure I was liking where this seemed to be going now. I was worried things were heading to a point where I would might even have to make a scene. I could just walk out now, but somehow I felt I would feel very foolish doing so. No, just ride it out. Finish your drink and go. 

"So," he said, as he moved in closer. He placed his hand on my thigh. I didn't remove it. I felt almost as if caught, somehow; unable to move my arms to move his hand away. 

"So, Angie, you aren't working today, but you are working tomorrow. Let's just pretend for a moment that we are in New York, where it already is tomorrow. Hmm?"

"Um, OK," I said. What else could I say? But God, I was sounding like a frightened child. I almost felt like it too. Come on girl, get it together! But then it came. 

"So, Angie," he said, pausing to look me straight in the eye, "how much?"

His words hit me like a hammer, even though I should have seen it coming. But there it was -- I had more or less been pretending to be a whore, and now I had just been propositioned like a whore... I paused for a moment, almost panicking. I didn't quite know what to say. I felt as if pinned to the wall, unable to think clearly. 

"Well?" he continued, "what's your price?"

I had to do something! 

"Five hundred," I said. 

Oh God, what did I just say! I felt I'd suddenly crossed the line -- I'd named my price, confirmed to him with my own mouth what he already believed to be true: that I was a hooker! Somehow I hadn't given the consequences their due weight before I opened my mouth to speak, but now it was too late. It was out there: five hundred. What if he accepts? No way. No way will he at that price. No man would pay a hooker that much, surely. I felt almost ecstatic -- I had gotten away with it, played out being a hooker, experienced what it felt like to be priced as a common slut -- and set the price too high as an escape. 

"Hmm," he said. "Five hundred." Now he was scrutinizing me like I was some kind of prized jewel, looking me up and down. His hand on my thigh had risen to the edge of my skirt. He was flicking his finger at the hem. He was staring at my tits, my erect nipples, studying them. I could see the lust, the need, it was palpable in his eyes. Oh God, was he really serious thinking about it? He leaned in a bit closer. 

"You are a very pretty girl," he said. I watched passively as he raised his hand off my leg and let his finger run up my hip, along my waist, till it reached my breast. He gently cupped my breast in his fingers, feeling it, lightly squeezing -- and I was doing nothing about it, just sitting there, letting him touch me, as if I was petrified, numb. 

His fingers found my nipple, gently tweaking it. Oh my God, I couldn't believe he was doing this, that it was happening in a public place, and that I was letting him! I felt like some kind of merchandise he was examining, judging its worth. 

"Five hundred is a lot of money," he said as he continued to fondle me. "How about three fifty?"

Yes, I sighed to myself. Yes -- a way out of this, an escape! 

"No," I said firmly, taking a deep breath and gathering my wits about me once more. "The price is five hundred." 

He let go of my breast. I sighed with relief. But then...

"All right," he said. "Five hundred it is. Shall we go to my room?" 

My God! My mind spun in a whirlpool of panic. I opened my mouth to speak but no words escaped. Next thing I knew he was on his feet and gesturing me to join him with a firm hand around my waist. I felt myself slide off the stool till my feet found the floor, and then we were off, just like that, heading for the elevator, his hand falling down off my waist to rest on my ass as he escorted me out of the bar. I entered the elevator with him. He pressed the button for his floor. I stood there in some kind of silent terror, neither of us speaking. As the elevator rose up through the building, I felt his hand sneak up and onto my left breast, squeezing it, fondling, rubbing his fingers over my nipples. I looked down. My nipples were hard and pointing through the fabric of my dress. 

"Honey, you've got great tits. So firm, so round... ooohh yeah."

"Thank you," I said in a meek and almost inaudible whisper. It didn't even sound like my voice. And - thank you! I thanked him for feeling up my tits -- and I'd just agreed to... I'd just agreed to fuck this man for five hundred dollars! What have I done! 

The elevator chimed as the doors opened at his floor. His hand returned to my ass as we walked out into the hallway, guiding me down the hall until we reached his room. He swiped the key card and opened the door. This was it. I could turn and run away right now, and it would be all over. But my feet felt like clay. I seemed to have lost the power to act on my own behalf. I had relinquished power, seemed to have handed it over to him with the transaction to which I had just agreed. I had sold myself. For five hundred dollars I had sold myself for the night to a fat middle aged man I didn't even know. 

I entered the room. It looked exactly like my room, and for a split second I even thought I was safe and sound back in my own room. That it had just been a bad dream. But this was no dream. 

"Make yourself at home," he said as he headed to the bathroom. "I'll just be a minute." 

I sat on the bed. On the bed where in a few moments time this man is going to fuck me. What had I done? I felt like I was about to cry. God, Anne, get a grip! I sat there thinking. How had I let it get to this point? I hadn't been forced. I had let it happen. The idea of being a whore had turned me on. That's how it got this far. And now I was going to be a whore. Oh, Anne, how could you? But then I thought about what was to come. We were going to have sex. The terms of the transaction, were one to call it that, had been settled. It was agreed. It was going to happen. I would just have to make the best of it. And because, like such a fool, I had largely orchestrated this dilemma myself, there and then I decided: you've caused it to happen, because in theory, as a theoretical concept, you wanted it. Now it was beyond the theoretical, it was reality, and you let it become reality. So now you must try to accept the reality, try even to enjoy it, just as the mere idea of it made you horny. Ride it out. Experience it for real. Be a whore for real and see what it feels like for real. It only has to be once. You have, as that old saying goes, made your bed, so now you've got to lie in it. Not a bad pun, that, I found myself thinking, but I wasn't laughing. There was nothing to feel amused about: Anne, this man has just paid you for the privilege of using your body. When he comes out of that bathroom he's going to give you five hundred dollars, and you will thank him, and then you will...

"Hey babe, sorry I took so long." 

He was naked now. His cock was rock hard, jutting out lewdly and slapping against his portly stomach as he walked towards me. I watched him reach into his suit and pull out his wallet. He took out the money. 

"There you go, five hundred. Now, let's see you out of that pretty dress." 

I thanked him as he placed the money in my hand and I slipped it into my purse. I stood and turned to him, and began to pull my dress off. 

"Hey, Angie, slow it down. Not so fast. Make it sexy."

"OK," I said. 

I thought of the night at the strip club, when all those men were watching me. God, I didn't feel so bad about that, about exposing myself in front of all those men, and here I was with just one man. Yes, I'll give him a show, I'll give him his five hundred's worth. 

I looked him in the eye and ran my hands up my body, playing with the hem of my dress, lifting it, but letting it fall before I showed him anything. He was sitting in the chair watching me, concentrating intently, his hard cock pointing straight at me. I began to rub my tits, rubbing my hands all over my body. I felt my body begin to move, to gently dance, my hips swaying as my hands returned to the hem of my dress. I lifted it up. I showed him, then I let the dress fall back down. He was grinning madly. 

"Ooh yeah," he growled.

I smiled at him, at his compliment. I was feeling better about this now; it wasn't going to be as traumatic as I'd first thought. I could get through it. I reached behind my head, to the zipper. I slowly unzipped the dress, watching his reaction, the look of wild anticipation as I slowly slid the little black dress off my shoulders. I let it fall down on the left side, till my breast popped free. My nipple was hard. I could sense my breathing quickening. I let the dress fall off the other shoulder, letting it fall down, down my waist. I looked at him. He was in rapture. I wiggled my hips as the dress continued on its way down. I grabbed the material and slid it over my hips, and let it fall till it was nothing more than a tiny pool of fabric on the floor. I stepped out of it, now wearing nothing but my black heels. He just watched me, mouth open, wide eyed and staring. For a moment, I felt strangely powerful, almost like I was suddenly in control. 

I stood there naked in front of him as his eyes devoured my body. He was panting, I could sense it. 

"Honey, get on that bed and spread your legs." 

I did as he asked, looking into his eyes as I opened my thighs, and let my hand lightly rub across my pussy. God I was so wet. I slid my finger inside, plunged it inside as I watched him, and I felt almost a sense of liberation, for even though I had been bought and paid for, I felt a kind of freedom, a freedom to abandon myself, shed my whole identity, to become a slut, a total whore prepared to do anything for money. 

"Lick your fingers." 

I did as he commanded. I tasted myself. I sucked my finger, pushing it in and out of my mouth, just like I would soon be sucking on his cock, because surely that's what he will want his whore to do.

"Ooohh yeah! Damn that clit ring is fucking hot! Never had a girl with piercings before!" 

I was rubbing my nipples as he spoke, feeling the nipple pins. Yes, my piercings are sexy. I am sexy. I'm a fucking sexy little slut with a pierced clit and nipples. I'm a slut for five hundred dollars! 

I lay on the bed, tweaking my nipples, waiting for him, legs spread for him, wet, open, ready. I heard him get up out of the chair and walk towards me. 

"I'm gonna eat that sweet pussy of yours Angie," he said, and I watched as his head went down between my legs. I felt his hot breath on my thighs, his wet tongue as it ran gently along the length of my slit. Ooohh yes... 

He kept at it, his tongue lapping at my slit, up and down, up and down. Ooohhh... Then he plunged it deep inside me. Oohh, yes! My body shuddered; oh my God, he's fucking me with his tongue! Oohh....

And then he stopped. 

He climbed up on top of me, his fat belly, his hard cock, the wet tip, right there in front of my face. 

"Suck it." 

I opened my mouth as he thrust forward. I felt the sticky wetness on my tongue as the head of his cock invaded my opened mouth, that familiar taste: male. He just shoved it straight in with a kind of controlled violence, and once I was over the initial shock I began to concentrate on the sensation of it, the thickness, the feel of his skin inside my mouth. It felt good. Nasty. How good it felt to have a cock in my mouth, literally filled with cock, like it was made for it, so natural, so right, but so wrong. 

"Suck that cock. Oohh, yeah; you're enjoying this you little whore, aren't you!"

I just looked up at him. He was grimacing as he frantically fed his member into my mouth, thrusting it, in, out, in out. He was literally fucking my mouth, using it, he was grunting, moaning, and I felt almost a weird sense of pride that I could take everything he was doing to me, and that I was causing him so much pleasure. God, it was true, his cock felt so good; and how he just literally dominated me with his shaft, how he violated me! 

Then he pulled it out. 

"I'm gonna fuck you now Angie," he grunted as he slid down my body and positioned his cock against my opening. I felt it there, the head against my open lips as he lined it up, but he wasn't so rough this time, instead pausing, looking down at the coupling of my open lips and the head of his member, as if in fascination. 

"God that looks hot," he said. "Yeah, look at that. Girl, you're so fucking wet!" 

I was laying back, panting, the sensations building as he gently pushed his cock inside me just that little more. 

"Ooh, yeah. Baby, you like that? You like my cock?" 

Oh God, he was teasing me now, and yes, I did like it, I did want his cock. I didn't answer him but oh God, yes, I needed it! Just fuck me, just do it. Put it in, put it in! 

And then he did. I felt his body thrust as he shoved his cock deep inside with one violent movement. Oohh, my back arched involuntarily as though I had been speared! He was deep inside me, all the way, with just one thrust. His body slumped on top of mine, his hips gently pushing, his cock deep inside my womb. I could feel his breath against the side of my face. 

"You like that, don't you." he said into my ear as he shook his hips, grinding his pelvis against mine. I realized could feel his balls up against my ass. 

"Yes," I breathed. 

Then he started moving, gently at first, and then he built up a powerful rhythm. Watching him above me, as his straightened arms gripped my shoulders so hard I thought he would bruise me, he looked so powerful, the most powerful man I had ever seen. And then he really got going, ravaging me with big long strokes of his cock, his balls banging against my ass as he fucked me harder than I ever dreamed was possible. Oh God, I thought he would tear me apart! He just kept going: Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Oohh, I could feel myself building to a climax, oohhh he was going to make me cum, this disgusting fat man who had paid me five hundred to fuck me. Oh my God, my God, he's fucking me so hard, he's fucking me!! 

I watched him grimace menacingly as he towered above me, thumping my little body, for a felt so small under his large frame. His face was contorted, bright red, and then he screamed a low growl as pumped me even harder. God, he was cumming! Oh yes, yes, fucking cum, cum in me, cum in me, fill me with cum, yes, yes... Oohh... 

He was grunting and moaning as I felt him explode his seed deep inside me, and my body reveled in the sensation. I squeezed him tight and felt his body convulse in ecstasy as he emptied himself inside me. The whole thing had been very fast. I didn't cum, but it still felt wonderful. He lay on top for about 10 minutes, and for a moment I forgot the fact that I'd been paid as a whore for this. 

I could feel his cock going soft inside me. After a while it just slipped out, and he eased himself off me. Next thing I knew, he was snoring. Time for me to go, I said to myself. I slipped back into my dress and grabbed my bag. Down the hall to the elevator, I noticed the clock on the wall. It was after midnight. 'Tomorrow' I mused to myself. 

How strange. I'd just been paid five hundred dollars and been given an amazing sexual experience, even it was fairly short. But it was time to put an end to this night, time for bed -- tomorrow, when I really was working, was an important day. 

I stepped into the elevator. There was already someone in it; a man. He looked me up and down, checking me out. I checked my reflection in the shiny paneled wall inside the elevator. My hair was a mess. I had the look, well, I had that 'just fucked' look about me. 

"Nice night?" he said. 

"Yeah, not bad. And you?" 

"Oh, pretty quiet." 

As the elevator rose and the brief conversation stopped, I had a little laugh to myself. I could have said, 'yeah, I had a great night, I just fucked a guy for five hundred bucks, and I loved it, and right now I can feel his cum starting to leak out of my slutty little pussy and slide down my thighs'. But of course I didn't. 

I got back to my room and fell on the bed, falling asleep almost straight away. 

Next morning I awoke to as the alarm went off at 6am. I showered and made a coffee, and then quickly finished off my work in preparation for the presentation. I would be meeting their representatives in the lobby at nine. 

Going down in the elevator, dressed in my business clothes and carrying my case, it almost felt like a different world from the goings on from the night before. But I couldn't be thinking of that right now; right now I had a big job in front of me. I saw the reps from the firm waiting for me in the lobby. I was feeling a little nervous, because this was a very important contract and I would have to be on my game to pull it off. Confidence Anne, think confidence! 

"Hi, Anne Johnson," I said, offering my hand. 

"Hi Anne, Pete Miller, pleased to meet you. And this is my colleague, Jeff Wilson. Mr Jones is already waiting for us in the conference room, so shall we?" 

Jones was the head man of the firm. Pete and Jeff were his marketing execs. I followed them to the conference room. The door opened and there was Mr Jones seated at the head of the table. He looked up at me. When I saw his face, I felt like my heart had seized. Oh my God. It was him! Mr Jones was Bill, the man from last night! 



Car Show Slut Ch. 15



The man sitting in front of me, the man about to be introduced to me as the boss of the firm to which I was about to give my presentation in the hope of securing a very lucrative contract with them, was the man I had let fuck me last night for five hundred dollars. NO! This can't be happening! But it was. Oh God, it was. I just stood there, numb, as Bill rose to his feet. I felt my world, my entire life, crashing around me. This was the end of my career. 

"Hi, William Jones," he said calmly, politely, a smug smile on his face as he looked me in the eye. "Call me Bill." I heard him speaking, but it was as though I was somewhere else, not actually present in the room. My heart was pounding in my chest. I felt gripped by extreme panic, locked to the spot in the floor. I thought for a moment I would faint. 

"Anne, are you OK?" I heard someone say. I think it was Pete. His words jolted me back into reality -- but a reality I could hardly bear! I steeled myself as best I could. 

"Yes, I'm OK. Bill," I said, extending my hand to complete the formalities, though desperately trying to avoid his gaze, "pleased to meet you." 

"Likewise," he smiled. He was as cool as ice, acting as if nothing had happened the night before, as if indeed he had in fact just met me for the first time -- as everyone else in the room naturally assumed was the case. 

"Anne, you look a little pale," he said. "Would you like a glass of water before we continue?" 

All I could manage was a feeble 'yes' as I sat down. 

Oh my God. It wasn't just the embarrassment. That would have been bad enough, bad beyond belief - and it surely was. I could hardly bring myself to look him in the eye. But what about when all this got back to Mr Sheldon? For it surely would. Bill would tell him, I was certain, tell him how his marketing executive had fucked him the night before their meeting like a common whore. I felt like turning and walking out of there, right there and then. But something, maybe my sense of professionalism, made me stay. Made me resolve to at least get through the presentation. Go through the motions, get it over with, in the best way I could, and not give Bill the satisfaction of seeing me crumble. And then just get my sorry ass out of there. 

It was the most excruciating and longest day of my life. The only respite was, oddly enough, when I was actually giving the presentation for which I had been so well prepared. For despite the internal trauma, the fact that I was virtually shaking the whole time I spoke, and that I could hardly look Bill in the eye even for a moment, I actually didn't do a bad job of it. But oh, then came the extended business lunch, which normally occurs at these sorts of affairs, and for two hours I had to engage in light conversation with the three men, with Bill throwing in the odd line about my private life, such as how could it be that such an attractive, intelligent girl as myself wasn't already hitched? Damn him, he was enjoying himself over this, at my expense. 

We had a wrap up in the afternoon, and by five mercifully it was over. I said my goodbyes to Pete and Jeff as they prepared to leave, but then just as I was about to go Bill came over to me. 

"Oh Anne, would you mind sticking around just a minute? There are a couple of points I'd like to go over." 

"Yes, sure," I replied. What else could I say? And I knew pretty much what those 'points' were going to be. Pete and Jeff had gone. Now it was just Bill and myself alone in the conference room. 

"Take a seat," he said firmly. The tone of his voice had changed. He remained standing, and idly strolled to the opposite end of the conference table. I watched him, his back towards me, his fingers straying across the top of the chair, lightly tapping the chair. Then he turned to look at me. 

"Well, well," he said, placing one hand in front his mouth, resting his thumbs under his chin, as if in some kind of contemplation. Here it comes, I thought, bracing myself, here it comes. "That was an interesting day, Anne, I must say. Not as interesting as the night before, though -- not by a long shot. And on that topic, may I ask, what was last night about? What the hell was going on there? Doesn't Sheldon pay you enough, Anne? Or Angie, is it? Hmm?"

I started to cry. All the emotion pent up all day, I just lost it. 

"I'm sorry, Bill, so sorry," I sobbed, feeling even more dejected, even more pathetic -- cracking up like this in front of him was exactly what I didn't want to happen! "I don't know what I was doing! That was, that's never happened before, I've never done that before!" 

"Hey," he said, "hey!" raising his voice. "Stop crying. Get it together. I'm just asking: last night, what was that about?" 

He gave me a tissue and I dried my eyes. 

"I don't know. I just don't know. Maybe just a fantasy, one I never meant to be real, and it just sort of got out of hand. I'm really sorry, Bill, I... I just don't know what to say!" 

"Hmm, but this is certainly an interesting situation we've got ourselves into here," he said, chuckling. God, he was laughing! "Tell you what: if you're thinking I'm not going to do a deal with you because of last night, the answer is you're mistaken. The fact is that your proposal is pretty good. It's got merit. It's not perfect, and there are some fundamental points on which I would like to negotiate different terms but, on the whole, it's well in the ballpark... 

"Now, listen carefully to what I've got to say. I run this firm. Tomorrow Pete and Jeff will be making their own recommendations to me as to whether or not we do a deal, but I've got final veto. I'm the boss, I can overrule them if I so chose. 

"Now, as I said, your proposal is good, not perfect, but good. Maybe good enough. Maybe not. Now, listen carefully: I've got a proposition for you. 

"Since I'm the boss, and I make the decisions, I could make a decision right here and now, yes or no. As I said, I can sign up with you right now, or I can walk away right now. It's all up to me. Your pitch was good. With a few minor amendments, I think it could be something that can work for my company. 

"Now, I fly back home in the morning, which means I'm here for another night. So, here's the deal: you will agree to be my personal whore for the evening, and that means you do whatever I say, when I say it. You agree to that, deal's on. How does that sound?" 

No. No way. I couldn't do it. The shame I felt right now was almost unbearable, let alone be his God damned slut for the night! I almost didn't care any more. Fuck it all, my career will be over with this anyway! Just get me out of here! I've had enough, more than enough, and now he's trying to humiliate me even further, if that were possible! I was about to get up and leave as it suddenly occurred to me: why am I still sitting here even now? Isn't this excruciating enough? If my career is all over now, why not just walk out and spare myself any more humiliation and embarrassment? Why didn't I do that earlier? I'm still hanging on to some hope, I must be, otherwise I would have already walked out. Otherwise I would have walked out this morning. To walk out now is almost illogical -- why go through all the shit and humiliation I had today for nothing? There's got to still be a way out of this, got to be a solution. There's always a solution to be found for any dilemma, even one as sordid and pathetic and as unspeakable as this. But could I really do what he's asking? No. When I still hadn't given him an answer, he said: 

"Oh come on. You seemed to enjoy playing the slut last night, at least from what I can remember. You seemed to really enjoy it, Anne. You just admitted it was some kind of fantasy, didn't you? Why don't you just face the fact -- you wanted it, and you loved it, you loved it my sweet little thing. Didn't you? Hmm? One more night of playing the whore and then you go home with a deal signed and sealed. It's that easy, it's that simple. What's your problem?"

I just sat there in silence, looking at the floor. I felt like something like a naughty schoolgirl sent to the headmaster and waiting to see if she was going to be kicked out of the school. 

"You know," he continued, "I could also decide to let Sheldon know what his marketing executive gets up to when she's away on business at his expense. I don't know Sheldon all that well, but I'm pretty sure he'd be fairly pissed at that news. Don't you?"

"You're blackmailing me!" I said, trying to rally myself into some kind of action, even though I felt utterly cornered, completely powerless. Damn it, I knew it: I should have just walked out! 

"You may call it blackmail," he said. "I would call it taking full advantage of my position of strength in this particular situation, as any good businessman would. Business isn't always fair, Anne, you should know that by now. Anne, think about it. Don't get hysterical, just think about it. I have no reason or motive to tell Sheldon what happened, nothing to profit from it. I mean, of course I could ask him for my five hundred back!" 

God, now he was laughing at his little joke. This was just getting worse and worse...

"But seriously, Anne, we both know what would happen to your career if I did tell Sheldon. You'd be finished. What happened with us last night, from your perspective, was a very unfortunate and unlucky coincidence. But that's the situation you -- not me - seem to have engineered for yourself. Remember, you brought this on yourself. 

"I'm saying to you that if you walk out the door right now, not only is the deal off, but I will be left to consider what course of action I might take with regards to what I tell Sheldon of our meeting. But if you do what I say, the deal's on, I give you my word on that, and I give you my word that Sheldon won't ever -- EVER -- find out about last night's little adventure. So, what do you say?" 

What could I say? It was like being thrown a life raft in the middle of the ocean by the man who had just deliberately sunk the boat. But a lifeline it was. Because, if he was as good as his word, I had a deal, and I still had my career. As unpalatable as it all sounded, I didn't feel that I had much choice in the matter. 

"What do you mean by anything?" I said through gritted teeth. 

"Anything means exactly that -- anything. Probably the same sorts of things that happened to you last night -- and I don't remember you feeling any discomfort or displeasure then. 'Anything' means whatever I say it means. You will not be physically harmed in any way, if that's what you're getting at."

"How do I know I can trust you?" I asked. "This is blackmail - how do I that know we will have a deal if I go through with this?" 

"Anne, I wish you wouldn't use that word 'blackmail'; it's so distasteful. But listen to me: whatever your opinion of me as a person, in business I like to think of myself as a man of principle. When I agree to something in a business situation -- and what we're discussing here is business, even if the circumstances of this business are a bit unusual -- in business, my word is my bond. It's non-negotiable -- if I say 'it's a deal', then a deal it is, and I won't walk away from it. I know you don't think you can trust me, but I give you my word. You'll just have to accept that. In any case, I don't think you have a lot of alternative options here, do you?" 

"No," I conceded. I felt defeated. I had to take him on his word, and I wasn't entirely sure I trusted him. But I had no choice but to trust him. There was no other way out of this. 

"All right, I agree." 

"Good. Now, go back up to your room and freshen up. I'll be up there to pick you up in, say, one hour? I'd like you to wear the same dress you wore last night. You looked really hot in that. Oh, and no bra, either -- those tits of yours are too damned hot; it's a crime to keep them constrained. OK, I'll see you in an hour's time." 

He got up and left the room. I sat there for a while contemplating the situation. I felt like I was about to burst into tears again, but I stopped myself. Tears were not going to help me now. I had to pull myself together! I got up and went back to my room. 

I still could hardly believe what had happened, and could hardly bear to think of what might be about to happen. I hated him for this. He was virtually making me his prisoner -- he was blackmailing me, the asshole! But maybe it was just as he said: as any good businessman, or woman, for that matter, would do -- exploit an advantage. And through my own stupidity I had presented him with this 'advantage'. Because it was true. He was right: this was a situation I had unwittingly got myself into. He might be playing hard ball, but it was all my doing, not his. It was only going to be one night, and then I was in the clear. Not only that, but I would have a deal -- the sole reason I came here in the first place. All you've got to do is obey his wishes, and the deal is done, I kept reminding myself as I showered and got myself ready. Ready for what, though, I wasn't quite sure. I was feeling very apprehensive, very nervous about what was to come. What was going to happen to me? What was he going to force me to do?

I slipped on the black dress, quickly did my hair and put on some lipstick. I looked in the mirror. Yes, I did look good. Well, good enough to be worth five hundred bucks, I thought, and I felt buoyed that I could still find at least some humor in my sad predicament; I could still laugh at myself. Soon I heard a knock at the door. It was him. I let him in and he looked me up and down, head to toe. 

"Mmm, sexy," he said. "Very sexy. Anne, you really are one hot babe, you know that? Actually, I'll call you Angie tonight. I think I prefer you as Angie," he chuckled. 

"I've booked a table at a restaurant on the other side of town. Let's have a quick drink before we go, shall we? Will you fetch me a Scotch, please?

I nodded and poured him a glass of whiskey, and a glass of white for myself. He was sitting on the bed, still eyeing me up and down. 

"God, Angie, you look so hot in that dress," he said as he took a sip of his drink, his eyes not leaving my body for a second. "Damn, it's making me hard just looking at you. Tell you what, we don't need to go for another 20 minutes or so: why don't you fill in the time by giving me a nice blow job while we're waiting? Hmm? 

"Down on your knees, there's a good girl." 

Oh yes, here it comes, I thought to myself, here it comes. I got down on my knees in front of him and unzipped his trousers. His cock sprang free. It was already half hard. It took it in my hand and slipped it between my lips. Just like that. Before long I could feel it beginning to grow inside my mouth. 

"Good. Good girl."

It felt odd. Here I was, sucking Bill's cock, but in a totally different context from the night before. Then I had been bought and paid for as a whore. And it had excited me. Now I was some kind of slave. Not paid for, but owned. That's what it was, really: because tonight, he owns me. My body is not mine -- it belongs to him! Damn, how did I get myself into this!

Then his cell phone rang. I let go of him while he took the call. 

"Hey, don't stop," he said, his hand covering the receiver.

I took his cock back into my mouth and started sucking him again. It occurred to me that if I could make him cum now, make him cum really hard, really exhaust him, he may not be able to get it up again later in the night, and thus my night as 'his whore' might not be as difficult as it might otherwise have been. As my mouth slid up and down his hard shaft, I pondered the ridiculousness of what had just gone through my mind: I'm here on my knees with my client's cock in my mouth, and thinking of making him cum as hard as I could as some kind of positive outcome! I felt so ashamed; this had to be the nadir as far as my business career was concerned. I had always prided myself on the fact that I had got to where I was on intellect and people skills alone, not on my looks -- or worse. But now here I was, on my knees, hoping to secure a deal not with my brain but with my mouth, my mouth wrapped around my client's cock, doing my best to make him cum in my mouth. 

As degrading as all this was, what made it even worse was the fact that he wasn't even concentrating on what I was doing to him. All the while as I devoured his cock, Bill was talking on the phone. I felt almost disappointed, somehow almost insulted, that I didn't have his full attention. I began to suck him harder, taking him in deeper, playing with his balls gently in my hand. But he was still deep in conversation on the phone. 

"Yeah Jeff, I agree with you there: it was a pretty good pitch she made." 

Oh God, it was Jeff, his marketing executive! How embarrassing...

"Yeah," he continued with the conversation, "there are a couple of points I think need to be worked through, but on balance I think Anne's proposal can be of great benefit to us. I'm not sold on it, though, and I want your input on this before we do anything. I'm going to give it the once over again myself tonight, and we can discuss it in the morning. What's that? Yeah, you're right, she certainly is a hot looking chick."

Oh my God, now they're discussing me -- my looks! 

"You know," he continued, grinning down at me as he spoke, watching me as I continued to work my mouth up and down his shaft, "the whole time she was giving her presentation this morning, I was sitting back there watching her, and I could hardly concentrate on what she was saying -- watching her speak, I just couldn't help but think just how fucking hot she would look with those cute lips of hers wrapped around my cock." 

I could feel the heat in my cheeks, burning red with shame and embarrassment. I couldn't believe what I was hearing! And I was actually sucking him off at the same time! The asshole...

"Yeah, you're right, Jeff, she is one cute piece of ass -- a body like hers is just made to be fucked. Bit uptight, though, I thought. She seemed very nervous for some reason. Yeah, I agree, probably all she needs is a good, hard fucking!"

He was laughing loudly now, the two of them sharing a joke at my expense, only Jeff had no idea that the very woman he was talking about in such disgusting, sexist language was actually present in the room. With her lips around the cock of the man he was speaking with... Oh God, could it get any worse than this? 

Mercifully, the phone call soon came to an end. Bill put the cell phone down and lay back as I continued to do as I had been told. I looked up at him. He was reclining back in the chair, hands wrapped behind his head as if he was relaxing on a sun lounge by the hotel pool or something. 

"Mmm, this is the life, don't you think, Angie?" 

'Angie' didn't know quite what to say, or whether in fact she should remove the appendage from her mouth so that she could say anything. God, this was going to be an awful night.

Then the room phone rang. It was reception; evidently our taxi had arrived. Bill jumped up and stuffed his cock into his pants, telling me that 'we'll continue this later', as I knew we surely would. 

Going down in the elevator Bill seemed to take great delight in checking out my reflection in the mirrors on the walls. 

"You are so God damned beautiful, Angie. Damn, you're hot! You know, last night, when we met, when you were sitting there on the stool and you looked real hot, I thought to myself, 'I'm gonna have this woman, no matter what the price. Five hundred was a God damned bargain!" 

He was laughing again. 

He escorted me to the taxi, feeling up my ass as I climbed inside the vehicle. Did I mind? Well, yes I did. But I didn't have a lot of choices other than to grin and bear it. Bill told the driver the address of the restaurant and was met with a reply of 'yes boss' from the driver. He was Asian. I guessed he might have been Korean, but I couldn't be sure. I saw him check me out in the rear view mirror. 




Car Show Slut Ch. 15



Soon we were on our way. 

I found the gentle humming of the engine and movement of the vehicle somehow soothing as we proceeded, but only until I felt Bill's hand on my thigh. Here we go again, I thought. 

"Hey Angie," he whispered into my ear. "How about a quick blow job before we get there, eh?" 

Fuck him! Fucking bastard. I was sick of this already, and the night had only just begun. Why should I do what he says? Why should I have to be his bimbo slut! I'm an intelligent marketing executive! This is just horseshit.

"Angie, be a good girl and do as I say. My dick needs sucking, and I want Mr Cab Driver here to get a look at those pretty lips of yours wrapped around it. It would make his day, I'm sure. Come on, honey. You know the deal. Think of this as business. That will make it easier."

And he was right. Why am I getting upset about this -- why am I being so pathetic? There was no point getting all emotional about this. God, look at yourself, Anne, you're acting like a petulant child. Keep your wits about you; there is nothing to be achieved by getting all hysterical. Because this, just as he had said, this was business. I was here, sitting in this taxi at night, not heading out for a pleasant evening meal, but rather, I was conducting a business deal. And this business deal was different -- it relied not on my intellect or my negotiating skills or even my charm, but my body and my ability to sexually excite Mr Jones. And to excite the driver here, too, so it seemed, for that was the task that had just been presented to me. Give the driver a hard on, to put it bluntly, that was my job right now -- and my career depended on me doing the best job I could. That was the simple reality of the situation. But could I do it? 

In the meantime Bill had released his cock from his trousers. It was rock hard. He took my hand and guided it to his shaft. My fingers wrapped around the warm, hard member.

"Well?" he whispered. 

Oh my God. I am about to suck Bill's cock out in a public place, in the back of a car, with a stranger sitting in the drivers' seat in front of us.

"Suck it, my sweet little slut," he whispered into my ear. 

I just had to do it. I had to obey him. My heart was pounding in my chest as I contemplated what I was about to do, as if I was about to do something utterly illegal, like rob a bank or something. But I just had to do it; I had no choice. I was going to suck Bill's cock, right in front of another man. 

I leaned across his lap, lifted the shaft to my face and took it into my mouth. I began to work my mouth up and down, remembering from back in the hotel my hope of making him cum hard so that maybe he would leave me alone for the rest of the night. But in the back of a taxi like this?

As I sucked him I glanced up at the driver in the driver's seat diagonally across from us. He was watching the road ahead -- he seemed not to have noticed what was going on in the back of the cab. Somehow I found it amusing to think that maybe he wouldn't actually notice -- and thus what he would have missed out on seeing. Because I knew enough to know that all guys, for some reason, seem to like nothing more than watching a girl give head. 

I felt Bill's cock contracting in my mouth, and I thought that maybe I could make him cum and get this over with quickly. His muscles tensed, and I heard him moan. So did the driver. Oh God, I could sense that now the driver had noticed something going on in the back of the cab; I could just feel his sudden awareness somehow. I glanced up at him, as Bill's cock gently thrusting into my mouth. Oh God, over his shoulder he was looking back at me -- he was watching! I felt a rush of blood through my veins, through my brain; me head pounded, felt like my brain would explode as it registered the reality of what was happening. Oh God, he was looking straight at me, a look of spellbinding shock on his face as he looked into my eyes....

Then I felt a sudden jolt. For a moment I didn't know what had happened. A loud bang, and I was thrown forward against the rear of the front seat as I heard Bill swear, abusing at the driver. 

I picked myself up off the floor, dazed, but conscious enough to realize what had happened: we had crashed into the rear of a bus...

It wasn't a big crash, and no one was hurt at all. But through the windscreen I could see the hood of the car was a bit crumpled and steam was coming out. 

"Are you OK?" the driver asked. He looked a bit dazed.

"Yeah, we're fine," Bill grumbled. "You really ought to keep your eye on the road, driver. You could have killed us! 

"I'm sorry, really sorry sir. I'll radio in for another cab to come and pick you up."

"Don't worry," Bill said. "The restaurant's only a few blocks from here. We'll walk the rest of the way." 

"All right sir, ma'am, once again, I'm sorry but I'm glad you're OK. You have a nice evening." 

With that we got out of the car and were on our way. I was still a little shocked -- not by the public blow job, strangely enough, but by the accident. 

"That was lucky," said Bill. "I've heard of guys getting their cocks bitten off in car accidents like that!" he laughed. Somehow I had to laugh with him. We strolled down the pavement, through a neighborhood that looked a bit dangerous, but Bill's arm around my waist felt comforting; paradoxically, I felt safe here with him. 

"God you're hot, Angie," he smiled, as his hand fell down to my ass as I walked. I could feel him squeezing my ass as I walked, one finger gently resting against my ass crack. I wondered whether or not anyone walking behind had noticed. I didn't mind. This was my role for the evening, after all; for the next few hours I was a bought-and-paid-for whore. I had resigned myself to that fact, and somehow that had eased my anxiety, allowed me to relax just a little. In the morning it would be all over, and I could return home with a signed deal. But, in the meantime...