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Pammy Submits Ch. 01

By: lawn



I was done with the drug wars. I bailed. I found my hideout deep in the forest in the east of the state. A good place to live quietly on my ill-gotten gains. The last thing I wanted to hear was the sound of a car rumbling down my dirt road.

It was a beat up aging Dodge. Three people were inside. A woman I did not want to see opened the back door and stepped out gym bag in hand, as I watched from behind the blinds. Near 20 years gone since I'd last seen that redhead. The other two, man and girl, remained in the car motor running. The girl must be the one Pammy said was my daughter. I didn't believe that, not with that monobrow going. Pammy slapped at my door open-handed.

'Shit!'

Full of reservations, I opened that door.

'Oh, good. It's you,' she said face full of concern and maybe some apprehension.

'Hi, Pammy. What's going on?'

'You remembered me.'

I shrugged. 'How on God's green earth did you find me?'

Her eyes left mine. 'I asked Scotkins. I hope you don't mind.'

Scotkins, a ghost from Christmas way passed. I used to deal to him back in the day. He was one of maybe three people knowing where I went - each one of them sworn to silence.

'I'll have to have a word with ol' Scotkins.'

'Don't hurt him, Dirk. I had to beg.'

I shrugged again very noncommittally. 'What can I do for you, Pammy?'

'Please, Dirk, I need a place to stay. Please. I'll do anything.'

'Pammy...'

'Please, Dirk. I need it. I'll earn my keep. I will. Cook, clean...' she begged eyes pleading, tearful.

'I don't need a servant, Pammy.'

'Dirk, I'll do anything.'

I took a second look at Pammy. She was a tall girl, a Kanas farm girl, what we used to call big boned. She was meaty not chubby, heavy jawed, but, if I remembered correctly, she had great skin.

'Anything?'

'I'll do anything, Dirk,' a certain amount of hesitant promise entered her green eyes.

'Just you?'

'That's Suzy, our daughter, and her man. They're going on to Vegas.'

I didn't rise to the 'our daughter' bit. I didn't believe it and Pammy never asked for a DNA test. I rethought. Pammy did always have the worst of crushes on me.

'I'll give you a few days, Pammy.'

She positively glowed. With the briefest of waves, the car ground into reverse and headed out. I took a step back allowing the door to open. Pammy entered.

She started to speak, maybe to say thanks. I shook my head.

'Put your bag down by the door,' I said and took her arm to lead her to the center of the room. 'You said anything?'

She started to speak again but I held up a hand.

'Stand here. Be silent. I wish to look at you.'

And, that's what she did. I sat on my couch and that's what I did. I looked. Pammy looked away apprehensive again. She did not think she was pretty but she wanted to be thought of as pretty. She shifted from one foot to the other. She reached to clutch herself by the elbows but dropped her arms allowing me to see her. Waiting.

She'd cut her half-red half-blonde hair nicely at shoulder length. Her face, showing all that Kansas blood, was handsome more than pretty, straight nose, heavy jaw, nice lips, pale. She wore a button up plaid shirt, a short light green skirt, and old white tennis shoes. Nice legs not thick, not skinny, an appealing tiny scar showed on her left knee. Legs not showing her age. She had to be in her middle thirties by now.

'Turn sideways,' I said. She did. I noticed her effort to draw in her stomach. I also noticed that her breasts seemed a bit larger than I remembered. She shifted her weight to the leg away from me and bended her other knee. Pammy did not know what to do with her hands. That fidgeting was alluring.

'Turn toward the front door,' she turned to face away from me. I still liked her hips, full and squared, made for fucking and making babies. The backs or her thighs were still nice, only the shadows of a bit of cellulite. She kept shifting her weight from one foot to the other. The hip swaying turned into poetry.

'Turn back to me,' she did. 'Unbutton your shirt. Slowly.'

Again, Pammy turned her eyes from me, this time looking down at the floor. One at a time, the buttons parted. She started to pull her shirt open.

'Don't. Drop your arms.'

Pammy obeyed. Pammy was not ripped. She was not porn star buff. She was a woman. Under her navel, an inny, the smallest of a belly rode above the waist of her skirt. Her bra peeked at me a bit, white, a touch of frill, not new. She still swayed back and forth her knees bending and unbending almost coyly.

'You may take off the shirt. Drop it on the floor.'

She reached to pull the front apart, shrugged out of the shirt, then reached out with her right hand and dropping it to the floor. Her breasts were in fact a bit larger than I remembered them. She was feeling my gaze because her nipples pushed to show against the bra. I noted the flush appear on her neck and cheeks. I noted the failure to meet my gaze -- again.

'Now, the bra,' I said, not a request.

Pammy reached behind her. She grimaced with the effort fumbling with the clasps. She arched forcing her covered breasts forward, forcing her stomach forward, forcing her knees to lock, forcing her thigh muscles to clinch. Forcing a slight thrust of her tongue between her lips. Then, like every woman I ever watched remove a bra, she reached forward to hold the bra against her tits while she shrugged the straps off her shoulders.

Time and motherhood had been good to Pammy's breasts. I remembered them being pert little things with nice, barely pink puffies, with pale wide aureoles. The aureoles tightened a bit over time and darkened and now her nipples came out to greet a man cigarette broad and pencil erasure long. Pammy let her arms drop to her sides. She let the bra slip to the floor. Her eyes made a quick glance at my eyes. She saw that I liked what I watched. For the first time, a slight smile crinkled at the edges of her mouth. Again. she looked to the floor.

'Remove your shoes.'

I got to watch her legs lift one at a time, the way the movement pronounced her knee caps, the way it reshaped her thighs, allowed her breasts to hang loosely from her ribs, the quick peek of her panties. She bent over further to place her shoes primly next to the fallen bra.

'What color are your panties?' I said as she straightened. She opened her mouth. 'No, show me.'

Shy like a little girl, Pammy placed her hands on the hem of the light green skirt. Her fingers curled under the hem and the skirt rose a bit and a bit more. Her flush deepened. I wondered why. We were once lovers. I'd seen her before. I think even her thighs reddened. The panties were white and cotton. Did she remember that was my favorite?

'Drop the panties, Pammy.'

That was done quickly enough. She hooked her fingers under the waistband, slipped them off her hips, and let them fall to her trim ankles. The skirt fell back into place too.

'I want to see it, Pammy. Show it.'

She pulled up the skirt. Her bush was the same blondish red as her hair. She did not let the thing grow free and shaggy, but she did not shape it either. I liked that also. I'm not a fan of bare pussies or landing strips.

I looked up into her eyes this time for she watched me closely this time. Did she look for my approval? I shrugged.

'Had enough?' I asked.

Pammy shrugged. She looked at me waiting for more. I slid to the right side of my couch.

'Come and sit with me. Let's watch some TV.' She stepped out of the panties still entangled around her ankles and walked tight assed to the couch, grateful I thought. I watched her tits jiggle until she sat. I turned the news on and noticed it was dark. I slouched back and put my feet up on the coffee table. She watched me for refusal as she leaned over to put her head on my lap.

'May I talk now, Dirk?' she said almost a whisper.

'For the moment,' I said.

'Do you want me to blow you?' I was silent. 'I do it good. I've gotten better. I have.'

Well, she was never that bad at it.

'Sit up,' I said. She looked fearful all of a sudden.

'I don't want a blow job now,' I said. However, as I spoke I pulled off my shorts. Watching her, seeing her squirm, instructing her, controlling her, had aroused me. I had half a hard on. 'Still, let my dick into your mouth. Just hold it in there and watch the news. That's all. Just hold it in there.'

Pammy nodded. She placed her head back in my now naked lap. My dick stiffened a little moving to touch her cheek. I felt Pammy's mouth open. My dick literally fell into the moisture of it. She closed her lips around me and squirmed her head until she was more comfortable. Furtively, her hand came up to my knee then trailed softly up my hairy thigh until she touched my scrotum. There it waited for a moment as if she waited for permission or refusal. When neither came, she began to play gently with my balls.

Slowly, my dick stiffened to a full on hard as I felt the hot moisture in her mouth. She did good. She lay still holding it in there quietly. Only her hand moved tickling and rolling my balls in her fingers. I could feel the slobber fill her mouth. Every few moments she gathered it with a little suction then swallowed it.

The room lights reflected us sitting and lying on the couch, her legs glowing in the glass, my dick in her mouth, her hand working my balls. Every few moments Pammy looked in the glass pensively watching me watching her. I gave her a pleasured nod and felt her lips smile a bit. Each swallow made me closer. Ever closer. I exploded in her mouth feeling her stiffen, seeing her surprise, knowing the sensation of her swallowing my load.

I took her head in my hands pulling her off me. My wet dick flopped against my belly. I lifted her and looked at the globs of jizz here and there on her chin. Nice.

'Go to bed. Don't talk. Don't change. Get some sleep. I will join you later,' I said. I watched her swaying hips still in the short skirt as she walked to the back of the house.

This could work.

Pammy Submits Ch. 02



Pammy slept. She snored quietly lying sprawled half on her left side, half on her stomach her right leg drawn up. Her red hair covered her face. Her right arm half hid her tit. Light from the living room cast a glow into the bedroom accentuating, deepening all the shadows of her legs and ass crack. My prick stirred still aching from last night's engorgement. The memory of Pammy's wet welcoming mouth and her choking surprise when I spent myself flashed through my mind.

'Hey,' I called rapping knuckles against the doorframe. 'It's time. Grab a shower.'

She startled and rolled over on her back showing her breasts. Her bent leg flopped over giving a view of her red bush and the crevice of her pussy. Her nakedness dawned on her. She sat up quickly drawing her legs up and together, folding her arms over her breasts. That would not do.

'Nope, lay back down,' I ordered. 'Pull those arms above your head. Spread your legs.'

Pammy looked up at me.

'Anything, you said. Or, do you need a bus ticket? One thing I will do while you are here is look at you.'

Pammy obeyed. I looked at her arms thrown across the pillow. I looked at her breasts parted and flattened by gravity. I looked at her exposed belly, her bush, the way her straightened and spread legs shaped her thighs. She watched me examine her wanting me to be pleased. I was but I refused to show it in my face.

'Shower. I'll fix up something for breakfast.'

'Do you want me to make breakfast?'

I put a finger to my lips shushing her.

As she walked to the bathroom wearing only that light green skirt she'd slept in, I sat on the floor at her gym bag and began to rummage through it looking for things I wanted her to wear. I made sure she was aware that's what I was doing. In it, I found other things I could entertain myself with later. I pulled out what I wanted her to wear taking them with me to the kitchen.

I prepared a hardy British style breakfast, fried ham and sausage, eggs on toast, and pork and beans. Whatever might be said about British food, they knew how to do a breakfast. I put it on the table as Pammy rounded the corner holding a towel around her torso.

'Why the towel?'

Pammy unwrapped herself clinging to it with one hand. She slumped her shoulders – her only effort to conceal her breasts – but shift her weight to pull a slightly bent knee slightly before her other leg concealing her pussy but not most of her bush. Her eyes left mine shyly looking to the floor. I made an effort to scan her head to toe making her flush.

'Your clothes are draped over the chair. Dress and eat.'

White panties again, a blue skirt not quite as short as the one she wore yesterday, a white tank top. She stepped into her panties pulling them up quickly and tucking her fingers into the leg openings running them up to tuck in stray pussy hairs. She had to cock hips side to side to slide on the skirt pulling the zipper to the side to zip it up then twisted it to the back. She squirmed her arms into the tank top, slid her head into it and pulled the shirttail down. The tank top clung to her breasts and torso better than I had hoped.

She sat. 'Can I talk?'

'For the moment.'

'Why don't you want me to talk?'

'Talking is for later,' I said. That was only partly true. Talking was for later. Pammy burned for that – that connection, that returning to the business of the past. This was not the past. I liked what was happening now. Maybe Pammy putting herself in my net ensnared me too. I let her eat. I had a camera to fiddle with.

I took a few shots of her after she'd finished and went to the sink to wash the dishes. Side shots and over the neck shots of the tank top clinging to her breasts. Low shots catching her legs and ass. Pammy fought against the distraction of the camera so I caught a profile of the avoidance in her face.

'Come on. Let's go outside.'

'Where are we going?' Pammy asked.

'I'm going to let the camera have its look at you. Now is the time to stop talking.'

Pammy let out the smallest breath of exasperation. I chose to ignore it – for now.

My forth-level shell corporation rented me (anonymously) some 900 acres of woodlands deep within huge forests barely populated. I took Pammy down the path toward the gurgling stream that marked the southern edge of my property. The stream was not where I was taking her. Too cold. Winter was almost gone and the day was just a bit warmer than brisk. As we walked I took a couple of shots of how the temperature puckered up Pammy's nipples under the cotton tank top.

'Stop here,' I said. I slipped the string strap off her left shoulder pulling it slowly down her arm until it dragged the cotton knit off her left breast. If possible, her nipple hardened even more. Pammy flushed again. I pulled her hand up to hold the strap as if she might pull it back up. Her seemingly shamed expression looked like pensiveness in the camera lens. I shot several pictures from various angles.

'Leave it like that. Walk with me.'

Pammy's one showing breast swung with the rhythm of her pace, juggling nicely when she stumbled over the uneven ground.

We strolled over to the huge ancient holly tree growing near the water. Untouched and growing free with limbs beginning near the ground, the great tree was my goal. I eased Pammy close to the trunk letting a few of the prickly leaves to brush across her skin. I turned her toward me, reached to pull the shirt back over her breast enjoying its softness, and replaced the strap.

I took her hand. She looked up at me expectantly. I placed that hand on a limb. It was not what she expected nor really wanted by the look on her face.

'What?'

'I feel like you are making me your love slave. I feel like I should call you Master or something.'

Well, that got me flared up.

'Master is a title meant for posers. For pretenders who think the title makes what they do real. I don't need any of that to remind me of what I am,' I glared. 'And, darlin' Pammy, you are no slave. Slaves can't leave. Slaves don't volunteer. Stay or leave, Pammy.'

'I'm sorry,' she said flushing deeper, unable to meet my eyes once more.

She looked out at a distant sunny spot across the stream. I snapped a couple of photos.

'Climb up a couple of limbs. Do it slowly,' I said, not a request.

Her eyes questioned me for a moment. She did not see me relent. She fumbled a bit at first trying to turn to face the tree but Pammy was a tomboy and I knew it. My camera did not miss her awkward stepping. Pammy did have really nice ankles. She reached for limbs above her head and began to push herself upwards. I captured the play of her legs, the swaying of her shifting hips, and the reaching of her arms. I moved closer.

'Stop there.'

I concentrated now on her lower leg, its ankle and calf, the back of her knee, the taut thigh. Snap, snap, snap. I shifted to the other leg cocked to the side foot resting on a higher limb, ankle, calf, bent knee, the thigh stretching from knee to skirt lifting the skirt to show those nice cotton briefs.

I bent to step up beneath her getting pics of her panties bunching up into her crack – getting pics of her thighs. She bent, startled, to look down at me looking up at her. I took pics of that, legs and panties, tits pressed against the tank top, and her face looking into the camera.

'Turn around and take off your shirt.'

She struggled trying to do that and cling to the tree – more great shots. She dropped the shirt to me. I began to concentrate on her breasts. Breasts stretched tense as she held a limb above her head. Breasts hanging as she held a lower limb in front of her. Breast thrust forward as she hooked her arms over a limb behind her. Her expression remained preoccupied through it all but Pammy cooperated. I was having fun enough.

'Now the panties.' More great shots with that struggle.

For the first time since she arrived, I got to study her pussy. So did my camera. Pictures taken with legs more or less together. Legs parted. Pammy turned away from me and turned toward me, standing, climbing, and especially squatting. She did have a pretty, hairy pussy and a cute little knob of a clit. Her partially engorged inner lips peeking out when she stood, blossoming open, and hanging free and quivering when her legs parted wide or she squatted. I had her step down a few limbs to get closer to that pussy.

I noticed the intensity of her gaze out at the forest when that delightful full butt got about shoulder level.

'What, Pammy?'

'It's what you're doing.'

'What am I doing?'

'Looking at me. Taking those pictures.'

'So,' I said.

'So, it's making me horny.'

I grinned as she turned to look at me over her shoulder. I reached up to touch her bottom. My fingers felt the wetness on the hairy meat of her pussy. Pammy turned away.

'I believe you.' I said.

I turned my hand sideways and rubbed at her clit. After a couple of swipes she gasped at the irritating rasping. I inserted my middle finger into her pussy and worked it until it was wet. I worked at the clit again with the lubricated finger. Her head came back and lowered again. Her eyes closed, her mind focused on what was happening between her legs. I shifted back into her pussy fingering her slowly. Her back arched and her head raised eyes shut tightly, mouth slack, totally involved in the sensation. I slipped the ring finger in with the middle finger and really began to work it. I watched her arms stretch as she pushed her ass onto my fingers. I watched her face turning, bobbing. I watched her ass only half hidden by the skirt. I watched her bent legs. They began to tremble. Pammy began to moan.

I had to stop then. I didn't want her to come right then. I didn't want to come myself for I was about to, right into my britches.

'Don't. I do not want you to cum now.'

She turned look at me seemingly assaulted more by my stopping than by what I'd just done to her.

'Put on your shirt. Carry your panties. Let's go back.'

Back we went. I enjoyed the cool breeze. I needed it. Pammy's fine skin and drippy pussy definitely warmed. However, it was nice to get back in the house. I broke out some Irish and ice. My favorite but not Pammy's, still she drank it well enough.

'Lay back,' I said. She turned toward me and fell back to rest her head on the arm of the couch. I reached to pick up her left leg by the ankle, lifted it to remove her shoe, and placed her leg to rest on the couch back. Good view, that. I am a leg man – a thigh man actually. I loved the expanse of skin. I love the sculpture of knee. I love the play of muscle and tendon. I ran my palm gently from knee to crouch thumbing the loose meat of Pammy's pussy lips. I ran my hand back to her knee and took a sip of that good whiskey.

'Why are you needing a place to say, Pammy?'

She took her on pull on the glass, not a sip. Pammy did like to drink.

'My boyfriend... well, I had to leave.'

'Why?'

'He beat me up.'

'Just that?'

'He beat me too much. He punched me in the face. Men should not hit and slap women in the face. Not in the face.'

'How did you get mixed up with that guy?'

'I like him at first. He was wild, reckless, kind of like you only crazier maybe. He was flirty like you used to be. He was rough when he took me. I kind of liked that. Sometimes. But he got worse...'

'So, you came here?'

'You're the first man that's been nice to me in a long time, Dirk.'

'This is nice?'

'You haven't hit me.'

I started again to pet her thigh, to stop at her pussy to tickle at her pussy hairs, to pet her thigh again. She took the last of the whiskey and lost herself in what I was doing. Her head fell back. Her eyes sought the ceiling but she was watching inside herself.

'Horny?'

'God, yes,' she breathed.

'Pleasure yourself, Pammy.'

'What?'

'Jill off. Masturbate.'

She turned her eyes on me then tentatively, pensively, lowered her hand to her pull up that blue skirt a bit. She touched herself, held herself, a moment. Her fingers began to move as she watched me watch her.

'Do you want me to get my dildo?' She asked. 'I brought it.'

'Another time. I'd like that – another time,' I said remembering that big, rubber, fake, dick from searching her stuff.

I simply watched her finger herself until I knew she began to lose herself in what she was doing. I knew that by the way her eyes strayed and looked at nothing. Her other leg started to work curling up, stretching out. Toes worked.

I reached out to take Pammy by the hair sitting her up. I reached around her, got a good grip on her hips, and pulled her bottom half off the couch. Instantly, she was bent over the couch seat on her knees. In a motion I stood to drop my pants. I knelt. I forced her knees apart with mine and thrust into her. She was so slippery. She was always so slippery.

I grabbed her hair again and forced her face down onto the couch though I saw the grimace. I saw her mouth open. Her hands gripped the cushion. I pounded her. I pounded. She moaned. She arched. Her head came up eyes tightly closed. I pounded.

'Uh, uh, uh. Ohh! Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God,' She called. She convulsed again and again and again. 'Oh, please. Please!'

I removed myself from her wet, hard, and not finished. I couldn't be sure it was what that last guy had done but it seemed to get the job done – for her.'

'Damn, Dirk,' she said.

'Better.'

'God, yes.'

'Then it's time for that blow job you told me about.'

She made a quick glance at my hard on, maybe surprised that I had not gotten off. I sat down beside her. She shuffled sideways on her knees until she knelt between mine.

Her legs still trembled. Nice.

She put me in her mouth. I watched her hair, her back, and her full ass as she worked on me. It didn't take long. I blew my load deep down her throat. Pammy gagged coughing air and jizz from her mouth eyes open. My cumming always seemed to surprise her. Still she worked me. The head of my dick, so tender with the orgasm, screamed in pleasure and pain. I'm afraid I screamed a bit too.

She had gotten better.



Pammy Submits Ch. 03



So, we cleaned up, dressed, and I took Pammy with me shopping. I live near nothing so it took a while. It took a while getting to a couple of towns and a stop or two at shady shops along a major highway south of Dallas. Some of the things I bought I bought Pammy thought were for her but they were going to be for my pleasure. Some of the things were mine and I made Pammy stay in the car when I bought them. These were for another day.

The next to last stop was to a liquor store. I bought stuff I liked. I bought stuff Pammy liked. The last stop was for Tex-Mex – lots of it – I did not feel like cooking tonight.

I let Pammy chatter during the meal. I let her chatter about everything she wanted to that did not include me or our history together. Poor girl went on like a pressure valve letting out steam. Some of her life was even happy. She seemed quietly content on the rather long drive home.

I dropped the packages on the floor, her stuff in one stack and my special stuff in another. When I turned from that, there Pammy stood, in the middle of the floor.

'What?'

'I'm waiting,' she answered.

'Waiting for what?'

'I'm waiting for you to tell me what you want to do with me,' she said.

Hmm, that might be a good sign.

'Need to pee?'

Pammy nodded.

'Go get that done then come back here,' I said taking the time to do the same in the back toilette.

I sat on the couch when she returned. Quite pointedly, Pammy walked to the center of the room and turned to face me. She waited. I couldn't help smiling. Pammy saw that I was pleased and smiled at her action. Damn it.

'Do you want to try on your new clothes?'

'God, yes.'

'Do it.'

Pammy rummaged through the sacks pulling out the flouncy white, gauzy, button up shirt with long sleeves and a high collar and a black business suit. She picked off the tags.

'No bra, Pammy,'

'Yes sir.'

She pulled the tank top over her head creating poetic magic as her tits flopped out from underneath the shirt then went taut as her arms pulled the shirt over her head. More poetry in motion as she slipped into the translucent white shirt. Now, Pammy's areolas and nipples were pale, only a slight shade darker than her fair skin, but they managed to cast pretty, oval shadows against the material. She would glance at me as she put it on watching me watch her. Cheeks reddened a bit as she buttoned up.

She wiggled out of her own skirt and wiggled into the black, short, straight cut business skirt. She tucked in the shirt and zippered the skirt before turning the zipper to the back. Next was the very straight-laced matching jacket with a bit of padding in the shoulders. She straightened the jacket and tugged at the shirt beneath until some of the cuffs peeked out.

'Can I wear the jewelry,' she asked shyly.

I nodded.

'Make up?'

'Just a bit, okay,' I answered. I was never a fan of too much war paint.

Pammy stooped to grab her purse (my mistake but I did not know it yet) and paced tight-assed back to the bathroom mirror.

She padded back in barefooted for we did not buy heels. The bracelet that caught her eye, variously colored gem stones on a silver chain, showed on her wrist. The modest glittering earrings dangled from her pierced ears. She stood a moment. Patted her hips impatiently and did a couple of model turns cocking her knee and hip, halting turned away from me to swish those hips again while looking over her shoulder at me.

'Like it?' she asked quietly as if fearing my answer.

I nodded. 'How about you? 'Like it?'

'God yes, Dirk. It's – it's, no one ever did something like this for me. You can use me any way you want. Any way you want.'

'I will,' I said. I reached in a sack I had put on the couch. I pulled out a package of shiny, shear, nude-woven, pantyhose. 'Drop your drawers and slide into these.'

Pammy wiggled her white panties off her hips, let them drop to her ankles, and stepped out of them. She stepped over to the chair to sit and unpack the pantyhose. Using thumbs and fingers she pulled up one of the nylon legs onto her fists until she was at the toe, raised her foot, slid the toe over her toes and drew that up her leg until it was at her knees. The process was repeated with the other leg. Pammy stood and drew them up both thighs one at a time pulling the nylons into the right place. Then, with one of those woman's magic tricks, managed to draw the hose over her hips with hardly a peek of bush from under her skirt. How do they do that?

I stood. 'Want to get drunk?'

'Sure. Always.'

'Come and sit on the couch. I'll get the drinks.'

I came back with a tray and ice, sat them on the coffee table, and moved the chair from next to the couch to before the table opposite Pammy.

'You just want to look at me. You just want to look at my legs,' she said but there was mischief in her eyes.

'I do.'

'Why?'

'Why not? I enjoy it.'

'I'm not very pretty.'

'Pammy, you are pure eye candy,' I said and that was not a complete lie. She was handsome more than pretty sure but long legs and great skin... Come on.

She was silent with that but shyly crossed her legs. I love what crossed legs do to the shape of a woman's thighs, to how crossed legs give prominence to her knees, how those knees press against tan nylons – a lighter shade than the rest of the legs. I loved the shadow of the double weave gives the impression of hose tops as the pantyhose peek from beneath her skirt. I poured her a drink.

'What's with women and their flavored liquor?' I said as I added charged water to her sloe gin and stuck a lime wedge on the low-ball glass. I handed it to her.

'It's good,' she said shrugging.

I poured my Irish whisky over ice.

'Do you remember that weekend we spent out on High Island?' she said and giggled.

'Damn! I do. We were so young,' We'd camped out on the beach with some petite little slut and her flashy spoiled boyfriend and tried to act so grown up. 'Remember trying to have what we called an orgy in the back of that car?'

She laughed out a good belly laugh while I was remembering Pammy and I naked under one blanket and the other couple under theirs both couples trying to fuck and calling it an orgy. Still, that little 'blonde' with her black pubes and cute little ass that kept getting uncovered so close to my nose looked pretty good.

'What was that girl's name?'

'It was Amber and Mike. I think she liked you. She always said I'd picked a prize.' Pammy said taking a big swig.

I laughed then. That bitch, all fire and attitude, was way too high maintenance for me.

'Whatever happened to her?'

'She went off to New Orleans with some man. The last I heard he pimped her out as an escort. A whore is what she was. A whore is what she always was.'

'I suspect your right.' I said with visions of nailing that bitch in mind. 'We fucked each other silly that weekend.'

'I remember smoking a lot of pot and getting sand up where I didn't like it to be.'

'Oh, but I had a lot of fun pulling your bikini down in the surf and cleaning out all that sand.'

Pammy flushed. 'People were looking.'

'I liked feeling you off in the tent at night. Your pussy tasted good, all salty,' I grinned.

'If I remember, you licked me clean there too. Drove me crazy.'

'You should have learned to let go and cum with a man licking you.'

'Well, I know that now,' Pammy said. She slouched down a bit and let her leg slide down so that her ankles crossed showing an expanse of thigh. I noticed her skirt had ridden up a bit. She saw me notice and gave the skirt a tug.

'Do you remember the first time we did it?'

She took a sip. 'I remember. I lied when I told you it was my first time.'

I had thrown a party for my druggy friends. That included Pammy. We trashed the apartment pretty good and drank ourselves silly. Everyone else went home. Pammy stayed.

'I knew you were lying.'

'How did you know?'

'It didn't hurt when I stuck myself in you. You didn't bleed. I remember licking you up pretty good that night. You wouldn't cum that night either...'

'God, you just wouldn't stop. I couldn't stand it,' she said. We both laughed at the memory. She began to rock her legs back and forth. 'I wasn't a virgin but it was probably only my third time. I was so sore the next morning.'

'We were both pretty young. We weren't very good at it.'

'You got better,' she said. She took another drink. Was she beginning to slur a bit.

'So did you.' And, she did. We learned together that summer.

Pammy put her feet on the coffee table but kept her knees together. She looked at me over her knees seeing me look at her legs.

'You always liked my legs. You like girls' legs.'

'I do.'

'You want to see my pussy though, don't you?'

I could only nod. Men are dogs.

Pammy jerked her knees apart quickly then jammed them back together. I got only a quick glimpse of how the pantyhose press her bush flat and form-fitted her pronounced mound. Pammy giggled. She started to rock her legs back and forth, as she watched the effect on my face as I looked at how that motion exposed the back of her thighs and showed a bit of ass.

'I bet you want a better look, yes?'

'Always.'

'Will you pour me another drink?' She said holding out the glass. I complied.

She took another drink and tried to appear as if considering whether or not to show me.

Finally, she scooted down closer to the edge of the couch and parted her knees but then she brought her other hand down to hide her pussy. She raised her fingers showing herself then quickly hid herself again.

'Again,' she offered. She pulled her hand away then it flopped back in place. She showed her pussy again and hid it again. 'If you come over here you can feel it, if you want. You can play with my legs. You always liked to play with my legs.'

I shrugged but I joined her on the couch. Pammy snuggled up against me, pulled her foot up to tuck it under her other leg and dropped that leg over against my thigh. I reached to stroke her knee and then slid it up to stroke her thigh. God, I love thighs. Nothing. Nothing feels better than a woman's leg in nylons.

'Feel's nice,' she said.

'Tell me about the guy that beat you up?'

'Nothing much to tell,' she obviously lied. She took another swig. 'He'd come home angry and take it out on me. You know, when we first met he asked me if I liked rough sex. Rough can be nice sometimes. Like a fool I told him I could take anything he could dish out.'

She laughed a laugh that had no joy in it. She took another drink.

'What was rough sex for him?'

'Well, it wasn't making love. He screwed me. He fucked me like he was angry with me. Mean fucking. He liked to slap my breasts. He liked to poke stuff in me. Dildos, carrots, cucumbers. He liked carrots the best. I liked the dildos, even the cucumbers. He could make me orgasm with those. He could,' she almost looked wistful at some of those memories. She drank and she giggled again. 'He liked to play this game. Pat search he called it. He frisked me up then he'd pull down my panties and stick pencils in my butt and my pussy. Probing for drugs he called it.'

'Christ on his cross,' I said shaking my head. However, I had a few nice visions.

'I could... I could take... take whatever he dished out 'til he socked me in my face...' she slurred.

I looked more closely at her heavily lidded eyes, her slack mouth.

'Damn, woman, what did you take?'

'Ludes. I had some... When I went to – to – make up... put on...'

'Damn, Pammy, who told you you could do that. How many?'

'Not too many. 'Like 'em. Don't be mad. Don't hit me.'

'No one's gonna hit you,' I said. So, instead of slapping her face I grabbed her jaw and shook her roughly. 'And no one told you to take any ludes, damn it.'

'I'm gonna pass out soon. Don't be mad. You can do me while I'm asleep. You can. Somebody gave me a roofie once. I think he did me in my butt. I was all oily and sore down there later. 'Next day. 'Sore for a week. 'Sore...'

Pammy's eyes rolled back. I shook her again.

'Not too many, Dirk. I just sleep some. You can do me while I sleep if you want. You can. It's alright... Alright, really...' Her eyes rolled back in her head. She almost let go of her drink as her arm dropped to rest the glass on her thigh. I grabbed it and sat it on the table.

'I just might, Pammy.' And, I was just about pissed enough to do it, too.



Pammy Submits Ch. 04



So, the bitch passed out. Her head lolled back, eyes closed, mouth slack.

'Damn, woman,' I spat. I had plans for a drunk girl all giggly and feeling good. She needed to vent that steam. She needed to prance around and laugh and enjoy being her. I was going to let her off the hook for a night. She'd earned it. Too fucking bad. I'd drain her out another way.

Now, I had not a flashing, chortling, dancing, party girl, but snoring meat on a slab -- well, meat on a couch. Pammy was well-dressed meat on a couch, however. I had to admit that. I had her put on the black business suit and sheer tan pantyhose we'd bought earlier. It still looked tailored enough as she lay on her side, head back, legs at an angle and knees together trailing off the couch to the floor, her plump feet pressing against my coffee table. If you would put thick black glasses on her and she would look like a sleeping librarian. Her right arm fell back next to her face palm up, her left down draped across her tummy. Her skirt, already short, had ridden up from her teasing me before she passed out showing a lot of leg. What were the woman's last words before she slept.

'Don't be mad. You can do me while I sleep. You can...' Yeah, something like that.'

Men are dogs. I pushed the coffee table away from the couch. Her feet, made slippery by her pantyhose, slid forward straightening her legs. The shift of balanced caused her hips to roll flatter on the couch. Her legs splayed out and parted. I gave her a good long look. I felt a stirring in my cargo shorts. Men are dogs.

I stepped over, took a hold of her face, and shook her. One last chance for Pammy.

'Pammy, hey!' I shook her again. 'I'm gonna do you in your sleep, hear me?'

She moaned and sort of smiled. Okay bitch. I was pissed but I was horny. Still, there were things I liked and this could be a chance.

Now, sleep sex is a great fantasy. I'd seen some of it online and was titillated. It is a fantasy but some of the things those pics and films showed were stupid -- especially in real life. Some of the things depicted required cooperative models that were not asleep -- not for real. Any fool dumb enough to put his dick in a drugged girl's mouth asked for a circumcision and I was already cut.

That did not stop me from pulling at her jaw to peer in her open mouth. I pushed her mouth shut and tickled at her chin. Maybe another time we can play pretend, I thought.

I stepped over Pammy's legs and sat beside her. I looked her up and down and thought about things.

Sleep sex seems to be about the forbidden. It seems to be about a chemical magic that grants to a man access to what is forbidden. It gives power over those that forbid. Well, Pammy did not forbid me. The girl forbad me nothing. However, I could play it that way for a moment. I've seen the porn sites.

Touching comes first and I liked to touch. I loved touching women's legs in nylons and I picked the pair Pammy wore just for me. I reached out to cup the knee of Pammy's closest leg. I ran my hand up her thigh loving the smoothness, loving the warmth beneath, loving the look I got of Pammy's flawless skin. I ran my hand up along the other leg splayed out from the first as the extended from the couch straight and slightly parted. Back to the first leg, I attended to the inner thigh of the leg nearest me making sure to go up under her black skirt until I touched where they met.

Like all leg men, I assumed, I had a favorite leg part. Feet for some men, knees for others, thighs or ass, for me it is the inner thigh. I let my hand -- my eyes -- explore that inner thigh, Pammy's skin is surely her best feature.

Next in the fantasy is seizing a view of that that is forbidden. Always, it is the pussy that is forbidden.I lifted Pammy's skirt. Her shiny pantyhose tightly encased her hips pressing and darkening her red-haired bush. However, her legs were still too close together.

I slid my hand down her thigh again taking the time to enjoy touching her. I pulled that leg toward me until her thighs parted. The slick sheer nylon seemed to grasp tightly at Pammy's pussy. It pressed on her pubes making a dark tangled patch of color. My hand came up to cup her pussy. Held so tightly, her flesh was firm under my hand, firm and slick, not wet though. Holding my hand on her pussy, I looked again at Pammy's sleeping face. No reaction to my touching those tender part showed.

I pondered a moment. What came next in those porn sites. The Americans always seemed to think it was time to shove their dicks into the girls mouth. Not me. I have trust issues. She might clamp down with those teeth. The Japanese knew better. Time to take a pet and a look at sleeping tits.

Reaching up under Pammy's hips, I straightened her a bit and moved the arm laying across her tummy to rest along her side. This caused her to lay more on her back than her side. I unbuttoned the bunched jacket and spread it wide. The prim gauzy white shirt stretched tightly across Pammy's torso. The shadow of her nipples and areolas showed through the fabric, nipples causing little bumps. I went to kneel on the other side of Pammy's splayed legs close to her.

'Idiot,' I whispered looking on her face. There would be repercussions.

My fingers stretched forth to rub at Pammy's nipples. I pressed at the softness of her breasts. I cupped the breasts and squeezed them. Slowly, one at a time, I fumbled at undoing each button of her shirt. Pulling the shirttails from where they tucked into Pammy's black skirt, I spread the shirt wide. The breasts trembled delightfully as they were freed from the press of the cloth. They lolled apart finding the set on her ribs gravity provided.

My eyes explored those breasts, trying to see them as if I'd not seen them before. Soft, smooth, gentle, hand-sized masses of contentment. Skin flawless. Nipples pale. Unable to resist, my hands began to play, to stroke, to squeeze, to tweak. I bent down to press my face on them, to smell them, to lick and suckle them.

With a mouth full of nipple, I let my hand feel its way along her ribs and across her belly. I pushed down passed the woven material of her skirt and explored the press of nylon covering her pussy. I petted those pantyhosed thighs as I sucked nipple.

With some effort, I reached up under that skirt, found the waistband of her pantyhose, and forced my hand over Pammy's bush. It took a little squirming to work my hand to her pussy. Her flesh was softer and squishy no longer held so tightly by the nylon. I massaged her pussy. I probed. Sleeping Pammy was dry. I rubbed the surface slowly in small circles for a moment. No wetness came. No reaction on Pammy's slack face. My hand slid out and I made an effort to straighten the pantyhose as it stretched across her belly. Then I replaced the skirt --for the moment.

Having Pammy knocked out and spread out on my couch, I admitted to myself, gave a certain amount of pleasure. As did having her snoring form waiting for me to do anything I wanted. I stood to pull my shirt over my head and drop my cargo shorts to the ground. I straddled Pammy's right leg and knelt. My balls touched her thigh just above her knee. I moved, rotated, slowly letting those balls brush across her pantyhose. That was delightful.

I picked up Pammy's knee making sure to smush my balls with it and drag it along my stiffening prick. I propped up the leg at crotch level holding on to her thigh with both hands to steady it. My hips shifted back and forth to drag my prick back and forth across Pammy's knee feeling the contours of it. I was fully hard now. So, for a few minutes I treated myself to a knee job courtesy of sleeping Pammy.

It was nice to drag across her knee. It was nice to grasp her thigh feeling her warm flesh encased in those shiny smooth pantyhose.

I squirmed to kneel between both her legs and enjoyed stroking her thighs with the palms my hands. I looked at her up and down, her sleeping face, tits showing from the open shirt, belly, skirt, legs. Nice.

I bent down to her legs. They smelled good. The chemical waft of the pantyhose, a hint of sweat, the warm scent of flesh, the shadow aroma of Pammy's pussy, all blended into sensory heaven. I ran my nose along her thighs inhaling deeply letting my nose touch and feel her. I kissed her thigh tasting the chemical saltiness with my tongue. I moved up into her crotch pushing up her skirt with my face. I pressed my mouth tight against her nylon-covered pussy. I kissed. I licked. Pammy's thighs pressed firmly against my cheeks and ears. Her inert body was mine and I indulged. In a moment, my mouth, her pussy, were sloppy wet.

This was fun enough but my prick began asking for some attention. I straightened. I lifted and propped Pammy's other leg. I folded her legs together with my prick between them. Holding them together with my hands, I humped slowly between her knees giving myself a leg job.

Men are dogs.

I pushed her legs apart and, like a supplicant, shuffled up between them to awkwardly lift her skirt and shove my hand under her pantyhose. Poor ol' sleeping Pammy remained peacefully dry. Now, I'm not really a lube man if it can be avoided. Flavors' not withstanding lube doesn't taste that great and it's greasy. Horny as I was I was stumped. Looking and feeling ran its course.

A night of blue balls suddenly presented itself in my mind. Shit.

I shrugged surrender. Pammy slept surrendered. I stood, stepped, and then sat next to her on the edge of the couch. Tugging her up by her jacket's lapels, I started undressing her. No mean feat keeping her upright while hauling her jacket and shirt off her arms. She sort of smiled while I did this maybe awake enough to be aware she was being -- what was her word -- 'done' as she slept. I let her slide back down to straighten and fold her clothes to lay them across the back of the couch.

I removed the skirt more easily. Unhooking and unzipping caused a struggle for the zipper hid itself beneath her. I worked the skirt down her hips and pulled off her legs. Those shiny tan pantyhose stayed on.

Pammy is not a petite woman. Good that she slept. I strained and grimaced picking her up. I carried her to the bedroom and draped her across my bed. She looked quite alluring lying there, like those expensive Japanese love dolls.

So, let's play dolls. I stretched her arms out beside her doing nice things to the shape of her tits. I pulled her legs apart noting what that did to the muscles of Pammy's thighs and calves, to the contours of her knees. The light shining in from the living room made very sensual shadows. With a discouraged sigh, I moved her nearest arm across her belly and lay beside her. I tucked a pillow under my head, cupped her breast, and thought about things. Almost on its own volition, my knee drew up to rest over Pammy's hips. I felt her pantyhose encased bush pressed beneath my leg.

I needed a solution for Pammy -- for myself. The center cannot hold. I knew what she wanted and tried to pay for with her submission. However, there was no place for her in the dangers of my life.

I felt up her sleeping form as I mulled things over. She felt good under my exploring hand. The probe and brush and squeeze of that began to stir my prick. I became aware of the texture of her leg and nylon as my prick pushed upward along her thigh. The thigh felt nice.

Men are dogs. And, like a dog, I dry humped Pammy's leg. The most sensitive nerve endings noted the weave of the nylons, the heat and firmness of her flesh. My hand caressed Pammy's cheek, her neck, her shoulder, her breasts. I bent to suckle at her nipple. I humped.

All too soon, I blew my load up the side of her thigh. I felt the slick wetness of it cover my glans adding to the intensity of my orgasm. I came, I came, and I came. Endless, it seemed. Damn... Good...

Then, in the still warmth of the afterglow, ideas came.

Tonight I must work. Tomorrow I must travel.