0 comments/ 27458 views/ 4 favorites The Lazy Boy By: Rusher I can’t be absolutely certain that what happened, happened for the reason I think it did. But I’m pretty sure. And I don’t feel very good about it. On the other hand, if it hadn’t been me, it probably would have been someone else. As much as I’d like to think that Sharon saw something special in me, or something that she liked, I don’t know. I think at that time, in that situation, just about anyone with a penis would have suited her just fine. Still… Lucy’s Little Longhorn. That’s honest to god the name of the little bar on Burnet road in Austin, Texas. You could, as they say, look it up. I had never been there before that night. It’s one of the many great little hole-in-the-wall places throughout Austin where you can just sit quietly and sip a beer and listen to live music. Along the back wall is a raised wooden stage where the musicians set up and play. There’s a small open area next to the stage for anyone who wants to dance, and the rest of the place is filled with ancient-looking rickety wooden tables with matching chairs. There were Shiner Bock beer coasters propping up a leg of most of the tables in a vain attempt to stop them from wobbling. There is a bar that runs the length of one of the walls, complete with brass rail. I was there to see Karyn Poston and her Krystal Pistols. She’s a country-western wonder of a tall, substantial girl, is Karen. She wears weathered cowboy boots, a big cowboy hat, and a Texas-sized belt buckle with the Lone Star on it. I had seen her a few weeks before belting out a few Johnny Cash tunes at one of Austin’s many famous “hoot nights”, where the local artists cover famous songs from the chosen artist. That night I planned to catch the whole show. But, of course, things don’t always work out the way you plan, now do they? I got there early to be sure I’d get a seat, and had my choice upon arriving. I sat near the back, to be a little bit further from the speakers and closer to the bar. I was sipping on a beer and thumbing through the Chronicle, the local weekly paper with all the movie and music listings, and tapping my toe absent-mindedly to the jukebox, when she came up. “Are you here alone?’ “Yes.” “You mind if I share your table? It’s probably going to get pretty crowded, and I don’t want to stand up all night.” “Sure, have a seat.” “I’m Sharon, by the way.” “Hi, Sharon, I’m David. Nice to meet you.” I started to stand as I shook her hand, but she waived me back down into my seat. I would estimate Sharon’s age somewhere in her early to mid-forties. She was wearing blue jeans, and a white blouse that hugged her curves nicely and allowed you to see just a hint of the lacy bra underneath. Her breasts looked full and firm, I guessed a large C or even a small D. She framed them nicely with a black vest and finished the ensemble with a black belt with silver studs. I don’t normally notice a woman’s shoes, but hers were a very severe, constrictive-looking black lace-up pair of the sort that fashionable women everywhere swear are comfortable, but which look like a de Sade torture device. As we sat there talking I began to take more notice of Sharon’s defining characteristics. She had large, intelligent brown eyes that sparkled as she spoke. She had high cheekbones, attractive but not pronounced the way they would be for an emaciated super model. When she smiled slight crow’s feet would appear, adding character. Her hair was also brown, without a trace of gray. It was cut in a simple, professional style, straight without elaborate curls or feathering. It was parted on the side, and came down just to her shoulders. She was a woman that you might not notice as you walked in the room, but if you took the time to look, you’d realize that she was very attractive. I hadn’t really noticed the rest of her body as she had walked up and introduced herself. But by now I was starting to get interested and was curious. When she offered to go to the bar and pick up the next round, I got my chance to see the rest of her. She was about 5’ 8” I’d guess, with nice slender legs that the jeans hugged nicely. Her belt was cinched tight, accentuating the narrowing of her waist. Her hips flared out sensually to a beautifully rounded posterior. Her body was full and lush, and, I imagined, soft and feminine. I started to wonder what it would look and feel like without the clothes. And she caught me wondering. One moment I was staring at her ass and the next moment she had turned and started back towards the table. But I was still staring waist high, and apparently the look on my face spoke volumes. When I broke my trance and looked up at her, she had a knowing look on her face, and her lips turned up at the corners into a reproaching grin. “And here I thought all you wanted was beer,” she said, handing me the bottle. She held on to it as I tried to take it from her. It was only when I looked her in the eyes that she finally let go. “Sorry,” I said, turning six shades of red and taking a long drag on the beer. When she didn’t speak, I glanced sideways at her, trying to figure out what her reaction was going to be. She just sat there looking at me. Just as I was ready to crawl under the table, she busted out laughing. “David, it’s OK,” she exclaimed between giggles. She grabbed my forearm with her and leaned forward to meet my eyes. “Don’t worry about it. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. You’re not the first guy who ever looked at my ass.” “I don’t want you to think I’m some sort of pervert or something.” “I don’t think you’re a pervert. I just think you like my ass.” I started blushing all over again when she said that, and was again speechless. “God, you should see your face right now. Lighten up.” “OK. But could we talk about something else for a while?” “You don’t want to talk about my ass any more?” she said, maintaining her devilish grin. “Let’s talk about the GNP of Peru or something, all right?” “OK. You’re off the hook. On one condition.” “What’s that?” “You go to the bar for the next round. I want my turn.” Blushing for yet a third time, I covered my face in my hands. I only uncovered it again when I felt her hand on my shoulder, which I took as a signal that everything was all right. “OK then. It’s settled. Now, are you a big fan of the band?” Sharon had an engaging way of speaking that let you know that she was actually paying attention to what you had to say. “Actually, I’ve only seen them once before. A couple of weeks ago at the Red-Eyed Fly.” “Oh, yeah, where’s that?” “Down on Red River. They played at the Highwaymen hoot night.” “The what?” “The hoot night. It’s a fund-raiser where a bunch of bands get together and do covers of a band.” “Sounds interesting.” “How about you? Have you seen them before?” “No. I didn’t even know they’d be playing tonight. I just wanted to get out and have a drink, and this place looked interesting when I drove by.” “Do you like country-western music?” “Yeah, I guess. I listen to a lot of different music.” “I think you’ll like this then.” We continued chatting about nothing in particular as the place began to fill up and it got closer to show time. After a while, we were both empty, so it was my turn to go to the bar for a beer. We hadn’t talked further about my peccadillo from earlier, but it was still at the forefront of my mind that she might be looking me over as I got up and walked the few feet to the bar. I even put on a little show as I stood waiting for my order to be filled. I bent at the waist and leaned on the bar, sticking my ass out in an exaggerated fashion to give her a good look. As I turned to head back to the table, I was disappointed to find that she was looking forward at the stage, and not at me. But at least she had good cause to be looking there. The band was slowly making its way through the crowd and around the equipment on the stage. In a moment they would be tuning up the guitars and getting started. I handed her the beer and she thanked me. Pointing towards the stage, she said, “That’s her, huh?” “Yep.” “She’s a big girl.” “She’s got a voice to match.” “This ought to be good, then. Here’s to big…voices,” she said, as we toasted with a clinking together of the bottles. I could only chuckle at the apparent joke. Before I could come up with a witty retort, Karyn strummed her guitar and the show began. It was pure country, as she stood stock still on the stage except for the tapping of her toe, and belted out the songs with a voice straight out of 1950s Nashville. Both Sharon and I tapped our toes right along with her. Almost immediately there were couples two-stepping and twirling near the stage. After a while the waitress came around, and we ordered another couple of beers as the music continued. I was getting a nice little buzz going by the end of the third one. I ordered a fourth to keep it going. Sharon and I hadn’t been talking, or even looking at each other much since the music started, concentrating instead on the stage and the music itself. After the fourth beer, I knew I was going to have to hit the restroom before long. When I couldn’t wait any longer, I excused myself and went off. As I went in I heard Karyn announce that they would play a couple of more songs and then take a short break. I was glad that I had beaten the crowd that would undoubtedly be in the bathroom at the end of the set. When I came out of the bathroom I was startled as I almost ran headfirst into Sharon. I assumed she was headed for the ladies room next door down. “Sorry, but I think we lost our table,” she said. “I got up and someone took it. It might take a fist fight to get it back now.” “OK, well, I don’t mind standing if you don’t.” “Actually, I was thinking maybe we could go somewhere else.” “Didn’t you like the music?” “Oh, no, it was fine. I just feel like going somewhere else. Can you walk me to my car?” “Uh, yeah, sure.” We navigated our way through the crowd, out the door, and into the parking lot. The first thing I noticed when we got outside was that it had cooled off quite a bit since I had gone inside. It had been warm enough earlier that I had left my coat in the car. Now, though, I was shivering a little. Sharon reached into her purse and pulled out her keys. She hit the button on the key chain to unlock the car, and I noticed the lights flash on and off on a Lexus sedan a few cars away from where we stood. It was the only foreign car in the entire parking lot, and, I guessed, easily the most expensive. “Hop in, and we’ll get warm,” she said. “My car’s heater is really good.” “I’m all for that.” I hopped in on the passenger side as she went around to her side. “It’ll just be a minute or two, and it’ll start blowing warm air,” she said as she adjusted the controls. “It got kind of chilly, didn’t it?” I said, my teeth chattering. “So, where do you want to go now?” “Where do you want to go?” she asked. “I can think of a couple of places. But it sounded like you already had something in mind. Do you?” “Yes…I suppose we should talk about that,” she said, tilting her head down and to the side and gazing up at me. She might have been blushing, but I couldn’t tell in the dim light. “I want to play a little game. Do you like games?” “Depends on the game, I guess. Do I get a prize if I win?” “Actually, you’ve already won. And if you don’t blow it, you’ll get a prize that I think you’ll like. Are you up for it?” As she said that, a smile crossed her face for just a moment, though I couldn’t tell whether it was a tease or a challenge. “Yeah, OK, I’m willing. What’s the game?” “Well, I want to take you somewhere. But to go, you have to be willing to wear a blindfold.” She paused, as if to let that soak in. “Is that it? Or is there more?” “There’s more. Once we get where we’re going, you have to do what I say. When we finish playing, I’ll put the blindfold back on you and bring you back here. That’s it.” “And what will you be asking me to do?” She leaned across the seat, and stroked my cheek. She looked me in the eyes, and gave me a light kiss on the lips. “Some things, you just have to take on faith.” Obviously, the choice was mine. I could accept her conditions and take what promised to be an intriguing little trip, or get out of the car and go back inside for the band’s second set. I made a quick calculation about the likelihood of her meaning me bodily harm versus the likelihood of her meaning me bodily pleasure. I decided that pleasure was much more likely, and my penis took it from there. “You’re not going to drug me and take my kidneys, are you?” “What?” “You know, the old urban legend. You wake up in a bathtub full of ice next to a phone. And there’s a note that says “Don’t move! Dial 911! Your kidneys are missing.” “It’s nothing like that. You’ll have all your organs when the night’s over.” “OK then, I’m in.” She reached into her purse then and pulled something out. “Turn your head,” she said. I did, and felt something soft and smooth cover my eyes. “Good boy,” she said in a deep sultry voice, her lips only inches from my ear. The sound sent a tingle through my body, finishing at my groin. Then I felt her hands at the back of my head tying a knot. She reached around the front to pull it down in front to make sure it covered my eyes. Then she turned my head towards her and looked. “Can you see anything?” “Not a thing.” “Good. Then we’re ready to get started.” I felt her hand reach across my stomach. Thinking she was about to stroke my cock, I let out a small moan and raised my hips slightly to meet her. “Easy, lover” she whispered in my ear. “I’m just getting your seat belt.” I could hear the mirth in her voice, and I had to smile myself at my eagerness. She gave me a small peck on the cheek, and then I heard her putting on her own seat belt. She backed us out of the parking spot, and we were on our way. We drove on in silence for a few miles, before I couldn’t quell my curiosity any longer. “Sharon.” “Yes?” “Why were you carrying a blindfold in your purse tonight?” “What do you mean?” “You had a blindfold all ready to go when I agreed to wear it.” “That’s not a blindfold. It’s a scarf.” “OK, then. Why were you carrying a scarf in your purse?” “Why are you asking me these questions?” “Well, it just seems like you had this whole thing planned out already. It makes me kind of wonder what’s going on.” “I had the scarf in my purse because I was going to wear it in the bar. But I decided at the last minute that it was too much. So I took it off and put it in my purse.” “OK, I’m sorry for being so paranoid.” “Your real question is was I planning to pick someone up tonight and blindfold them and take them home with me. Well, I wasn’t. I just wanted to go out and have a drink and listen to some music. But if you don’t believe that, then I’ll turn around and take you back to the bar.” “No Sharon. I want to go with you. I’m sorry I asked you about that.” “It’s OK. I realize this isn’t a normal situation, so I’ll forgive you a little curiosity. But no more questions, agreed?” “Agreed.” We drove on then without another exchange for what seemed like a long time. Of course, being blindfolded can throw your sense of time out of whack, not to mention your sense of direction. By the time we pulled into a driveway, and finally into a garage, we could have been anywhere from Waco to San Antonio for all I knew. I only hoped she was serious about driving me back to my car when our adventure was finished. She led me out of the car and into her house, one hand on my forearm and the other on my shoulder blade. Once we were inside, she reached behind my head to untie the blindfold, and gave me another soft kiss on the cheek. As I blinked, getting used to the light, I surveyed the room we were in. Although the room itself was dark, a light from another room lighted it to some extent. It allowed me to make out the general layout of the place, without being able to make out the specifics of such things as art on the wall or photos on the mantle. And there was a mantle over a large fireplace that looked as if it had gotten some use. A large basket of firewood lay next to it. The furnishings consisted of a long, plush couch that looked to be leather or something similar that was situated lengthwise parallel to the wall where the fireplace stood. In front of the couch was a large glass and metal table on which were coasters and a bowl of some sort. Beside the couch there were what looked to be matching reclining chairs of the same material as the couch. It all looked rich and plush and comfortable. Across the room I could see a large screen TV, 46” at least, which seemed to be the centerpiece around which all the furniture was situated. As my eyes were adjusting to the light, Sharon sat on the couch and leaned back, crossing her legs and putting her hands in her lap. I had hoped for some more intimate contact with her, but it seemed she had other plans. “Take off your clothes for me, David” she said in a deep, seductive voice. It was the first unmistakably sexual thing she had done or said to me that night and it sent a shiver down my spine in anticipation. She had turned sideways on the couch to face me, and was running her hand through her hair. Her legs remained demurely crossed, and she laid her other hand on her thigh. Her foot bobbed up and down slowly, the only indication that she was not completely relaxed and confident about what she was doing. “Do you just want to watch, or what?” I asked. “I’ll tell you what I want after you’re naked. Now come on, put on a show for me.” I then faced my second decision of the evening. I felt kind of silly standing there, about to strip down for a total stranger. Also, I didn’t know how sexy I could make it. Should I act like a Chippendale’s dancer or something? I’ve never given much thought to the way I take off my clothes. I could have just asked Sharon to put the blindfold back on me and take me to my car. But I was starting to get into the situation. I wanted to look sexy for her. So sexy, in fact, that she would strip down for me too, and we’d enjoy each other’s bodies. By way of showing her my decision, I stepped out of my shoes and kicked them aside as I looked in her eyes. Sharon smiled, knowing that I had decided to go along with the game. I tugged slowly on my shirt until it came untucked from my pants. As I slipped it up my torso, I stroked my stomach and sides with my hands. As a tease, I let it slide back down and cover me before lifting it again. I continued stroking my stomach and chest with my fingertips as I lifted the shirt, finally pulling it over my head and off. I stood for a moment posing, arms dangling at my side. I placed my left hand on my pants buckle then, just letting it sit there. With my right hand, I started at my thigh and slowly moved it up towards the buckle. Sliding it along my inner thigh, I cupped my balls in my hand through the denim of my jeans. Sharon’s eyes were intently watching my right hand, and she let out a small sigh and smiled as I squeezed my balls. When I didn’t make any further move to unbuckle my pants for a moment, she looked up at me. “Tease,” she said. “No, a tease doesn’t put out. You won’t have that problem with me.” I slowly then moved my right hand up the length of my zipper, sliding over my hardening cock. I couldn’t tell whether Sharon could see the outline of it through my jeans; it was only half-hard. But I slowly squeezed my cock through the fabric and slid my hand up and down a couple of times. Then I moved up and unsnapped my pants. I slid the fingers of my right hand down and under the waistband of my underwear, and started to squeeze and stroke my cock for her. By that time, her eyes were absolutely blazing as she watched, enraptured. She was squeezing her thigh with her hand, but had still made no move to undress or to touch herself. However, I thought she was weakening. The Lazy Boy “You’re pretty good at this. Have you been practicing in front of your mirror at home?” she said, smiling. I slowly unzipped my pants. By now she could see the whiteness of my briefs, and, I was sure, the outline of my cock. It still wasn’t all that hard. I was putting so much concentration into the stripping that I’d stopped thinking about her naked. I turned sideways to her, and slowly began to take the pants off, sliding them down my legs. As I slid the jeans off my legs, I pulled the socks off as well. Then I turned to face her again. “Are you ready for the grand unveiling?” “Yes, I want to see.” Holding up the right side of my briefs, I began to slide the left side down, exposing my inner thigh and just a hint of my light blonde pubic hair. As I was about to expose part of my cock and balls, I stopped and slid them back up. I repeated the same motions with the other side, again stopping just short of exposing anything other than the sparse hair. Then I slid my left hand into my shorts, reaching down the length of my cock to stroke my balls. I turned around, so that now my ass was facing her. Looking back over my shoulder, I began to slip the underwear down the length of my body, exposing my ass to her hungry gaze. I held my legs slightly apart as I bent at the waist and slid the shorts down to my ankles. When I got to the bottom, I turned to look at her. I wondered if she could see my swollen balls hanging down between my legs from that angle. They felt large and full, ready to burst, although my cock was still only partially hard. I allowed her the full view of my ass from that position for a few seconds before lifting one foot and then the other and removing the shorts. On a lark I then went down on my knees, still facing away from her. I spread my legs wide apart and lay my shoulders down to the carpet. My ass was then sticking up in the air, exposed to her, and I knew then that she could see my balls hanging low and full. My cock was exposed at that angle as well, hanging down as it still was, as was my brown puckered hole. I found the idea of it very exciting, and I lay there under her gaze in that way for a few moments. “Let me see your cock, David.” I stood up slowly, back still turned to her. I ran my hands around to my ass and kneaded the cheeks. I then gave my left cheek a hard slap that made a loud flesh-on-flesh sound that seemed to echo through the empty house. Slowly, then, finally, I turned to face her and let her see all of me. As I looked at her, I noticed her eyes were closed to mere slits, and she was looking at my cock. “Ooh, you’re cock is soft. I like that. Will you make it hard for me?” “I know I’d get hard if you’d take your clothes off, too.” “It doesn’t look like you need my help,” she said, staring down at my crotch. Then her eyes met mine, and she smiled her knowing smile again. Sure enough, even though I had yet to touch myself after the strip tease, my cock was already half erect. She was getting me hard just by looking at me and talking. “Come on, David, touch yourself. Get yourself hard for me.” I was momentarily embarrassed by her unashamed and hungry stare, and very aware that I was standing in front of her totally naked while she sat there fully clothed and in control of the situation. My first instinct was to cover up. But then I realized that she wanted to watch me, and that she was going to be turned on by it. I wondered if she was getting wet as I stood in front of her only a few feet away. The thought made my cock jump a little and get harder, and a low moan escaped from her lips. I dropped my inhibitions and started to go with the flow. “Is this what you want to see?” I asked, as I started slowly and deliberately to slide my hand up and down the growing shaft of my cock. As I did so, the foreskin slipped back and forth over the head, sending ripples of pleasure to my spine and balls. I rocked forward on my toes and leaned my head back. I was so turned on having her there watching me that a moan escaped from my lips. It sounded almost like a scream in the silence of the room. “Yes, that’s good. Keep going.” she said. Her voice betrayed her sexual arousal. However, she remained seated with her legs crossed on the couch, and had made no move to remove her clothes or to touch herself. My other hand had been resting on my inner thigh up to that point. But I decided to really put on a show for her in hopes that she would strip down and join in. I slid the hand up my thigh and lightly brushed my balls, pushing them up and out from my body. My hand continued moving up my body, and I stroked across my stomach and rib cage slowly with just my fingertips. I shivered as the goosebumps raised on my arms and chest from the cool caress. My hand continued upward and I stroked my chest. I made eye contact with Sharon as I began playing with my nipples, pinching and pulling on them. She didn’t say anything, but just smiled at me again. My hand traveled up to stroke my neck, then to my cheek, which I brushed across. I was giving her the full treatment as I playfully licked and sucked my index and middle fingers, lapping at them with my exposed tongue. I closed my eyes and pretended that I was sucking and licking her swollen clit, running my tongue around the tips of my fingers with my eyes closed in concentration. When I opened them, I could see that her hand had inched a small way up her thigh, and her hand was squeezing her thigh. However, she still was not touching herself, and she was still fully clothed and zipped up. I thought I had heard a sharp intake of her breath while my eyes were closed, but I couldn’t be sure. She couldn’t completely hide her feelings, though. As she moved her head slightly, her eyes were highlighted in a shaft of light. They were blazing with sensual energy. In any other situation I would be expecting her to jump off the couch, throw me down and rape me. She showed no signs of making a move, though. “Do you want to touch me, Sharon?” “I want to watch you. Keep going. And tell me when you’re getting close to cumming.” As much as I wanted to move to the couch and ravage her just then, there was something that prevented me from doing it. I think I liked putting on a show for her. But I also didn’t want to anger her or make her disapprove of me for some reason. And I had agreed to do whatever she said once we got here. So I started to slowly stroke myself again. I slowly retraced the trip down my body with my other hand, stroking my chest and stomach. When I got back down to my cock, I began to lightly squeeze and rub my balls. I was now really getting into it. My knees were feeling weak, and I could feel the tension welling up in my balls. I decided to give her the whole show, and to maximize my own pleasure at the same time. As I continued stroking my balls, I began to rub the area behind my balls with my index finger. It was getting slick from my perspiration and arousal, and I began to slowly move closer and closer to my anus. Finally, I began circling the rim of it with my finger, as I increased the pace of the strokes on my cock. My head was leaned back and I was breathing hard. I was rocking back and forth as my knees kept nearly buckling from the foreskin sliding back and forth over the head of my cock and arousing me even further. I could tell I was getting very close to cumming. “Are you getting close, David?” Sharon’s voice startled me, as my excitement had made me momentarily forget she was there. I opened my eyes and looked at her. “Yes,” I moaned in a deep voice. “Wait. Don’t cum yet. I want you to go and sit in the chair.” “What?” “Please. Go and sit in the chair. I want to watch you cum in the chair.” Confused, I sat down in the chair and reclined back into the luxurious material, the footrest coming up as I did so. It was so soft and comfortable that it was almost like a sensual caress as I moved around. I noticed that a shaft of light from the other room fell across the chair, illuminating me in soft light that would allow her to see me better. As I relaxed, the thought floated again into the back of my mind that Sharon had planned the whole night in advance. I beat the thought back and continued to stroke myself. “Spread your legs for me, David, so I can see you. Drape your leg over the arm of the chair and sit back.” I did so, and spread my legs as far apart as I could comfortably. I began to stroke myself again, faster, determined to cum for her and for myself. “No, go slower David, I want to watch for a while.” I looked her right in the eye as I began to take long, slow strokes on my cock. I was once again stroking my balls with my other hand. For the first time, she seemed to be embarrassed about what was happening, as if asking for what she wanted had made her self-conscious. She smiled a shy smile and broke her gaze from mine and looked down at my hand sliding up and down on my shaft. I moved my hips forward in the chair so she could get a better look at what was going on. “Do you ever slide your finger in your ass when you masturbate, David?” she said, looking up at me again. “Sometimes.” “I want you to do that for me. Put your finger inside yourself.” “OK.” I once again began to slowly rim my anus with my index finger as I continued my slow strokes. I lifted my hips slightly so that she would be able to see my finger as it slid in. When it was slick enough, I slid just the tip in up to the first knuckle, so that it wasn’t past the ring of muscle yet, but I could feel it. It was an intense feeling, and I moaned once again. Sharon seemed to lean forward just a little then, and her hand traveled another inch or two up her thigh. Her lips parted just slightly, and I thought I could hear an increase in her breathing. “That’s good, David. Now put it all the way in” she said breathlessly. Slowly, I did as she said and began sliding the entire length of my index finger inside me. Once the tip was inside, there was no more resistance. I began to move the finger in and out slowly, and moving it inside myself as well. The stimulation caused my swollen cock to twitch uncontrollably as my anus gripped the invading finger. “Oh, god that look’s good. Your cock is huge, David. Are you getting ready to cum?” “Yes, yes. I’m very close.” “I want you to keep going and cum for me, David. I want to watch your cum shoot out everywhere.” Hearing her talk dirty to me had put me near the edge as much as my own stroking had done, and I knew that I was very close. “Tell me when you’re going to cum, David.” “I’m close. I’m so close.” “Go on.” “NOW!” I said through gritted teeth as I felt the first burst of sperm about to spew out of my near-bursting cock. As I looked over at Sharon, I saw that she had pulled a small camera out of her purse and was aiming it at me. I started to object, but then I was too far gone. “UNNNHHH!” was all I could manage to say as I began to shoot thick streams of sperm from my cock straight up into the air. Sharon snapped off three or four shots as the cum landed on the chair and me. When I finished what seemed like minutes later several long, pearlish stands of my sperm had stained the arm and footrest of the chair. Even more lay in a puddle under my spent cock. My hand was also drenched in the stuff, and I could feel that my thigh had been sprayed as well. I can’t remember ever cumming that much before. It had been so intense that it was almost painful. My sperm lay white and shining, in sharp contrast to the dark color of the chair. After a few minutes of recovery time, I thought again about what had just happened. “Sharon, why didn’t you tell me you wanted to take pictures?” “I wasn’t sure you’d let me.” She had suddenly become shy and apologetic in the wake of my orgasm, which I found a bit confusing. “I came here, took off my clothes in front of you and did a little striptease, and jerked off in front of you. I even stuck my finger up my ass in front of you. Why did you think I’d be worried about a couple of pictures?” “I don’t know. I just couldn’t be sure. So, instead of asking, I just went ahead and did it when you were in no position to say no.” “What are the pictures for?” “I just want to have them to look at later. So I can remember tonight. And don’t worry, I didn’t get your face in any of the shots.” “I don’t care about that. But you don’t have to look at pictures. You can have the live show any time you like. In fact, I was hoping that you’d return the favor for me.” “We’ll have to wait and see about that.” “Do you have a towel I could use to clean up?” “Just wipe yourself off on the chair. I’ll clean it up later.” “It’s going to stain if it dries there.” “It’s OK. I’ll clean it later. Wipe yourself off and get dressed.” We hardly made a sound while I slowly got dressed once again. I tried to hug Sharon as she approached me to replace the blindfold, but she just spun me around and put it back in place. The trip back to my car was mostly a silent one, and seemed a lot faster than the first trip. I think that maybe Sharon had driven around a little bit on the way there in order to confuse me as to where she lives. Looking back, the whole thing seems so calculated. Still…I felt something for Sharon. I felt an emotional tie to her, maybe just sexual attraction, but I think it was more. And even though I knew there was a chance that she was just using me, I wanted to, needed to, see her again. I couldn’t hold back as we arrived back at the nearly empty parking lot. As she took off the blindfold, I took her hands in mine. “I want to see you again,” I said, looking deeply into her eyes. “We’ll see,” she said, kissing me lightly on the lips. She stroked my cheek, and had something in her eyes that I read as longing, and possibly affection. She gave my thigh a gentle squeeze, and then gave me a push to let me know it was time to go. I knew that she wouldn’t be cleaning the chair that night, or probably any night. She’d probably let her husband find the stain, and then he could wonder what was going on. If he had trouble believing her story, she had the pictures as additional proof. It would be up to him what happened after that. He could change whatever it was that had brought Sharon to that point and save his marriage, or he could keep going and probably lose her. The only indication I was likely to get as to how things turned out was if Sharon ever showed up at Lucy’s again on the prowl. And I must admit, I’m curious. Curious whether they worked things out, and curious as to what Sharon would look like sitting naked in that chair, legs spread, touching herself for me. I think that the next time Karyn Poston plays at Lucy’s I’ll swing by and check out the crowd. Purely out of curiosity, of course.