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Sylvia

By: 4ofSwords



Sylvia - that was her name. I don't remember her last name, but it wasn't hers anyway - it was her ex-husband's or soon-to-be-ex-husband's. 

I didn't really know much more than that about her, because all I ever heard her say in her halting, deliciously-accented English was, "chHello, Zhay-mie. chHow are ju?" Her friends from the warehouse would tell me, "Sylvia says 'Hello', Jamie!" and "Sylvia thinks you're cute, Jamie!", but they just giggled and told me to ask her when I pressed them for more information. They giggled the same way each time I showed up in the warehouse to fix something and she bounced over to hug me 'hello' in a sort of lingering way that pressed her pert breasts up against my chest. Sometimes the hug ended with a glossy-lipped kiss on the soft part of my neck beneath my ear. I liked those days.

She was a little older than me, but still really cute in a slender, petite way that didn't usually appeal to me in other girls. She always looked great - she wore shirts and jeans that hugged her curves, darkened her lashes to make her speckled brown eyes pop from her toffee-colored face, brushed something over her lips that made them plump and glisteny - even while most of the other girls in the warehouse didn't bother with more than a hair-clip and pull-over sweater. It was enough to make me double-check each morning that my teeth were brushed, my polo wasn't wrinkled, and that I hadn't forgotten the bodyspray. I didn't realize until much later that she she was always primping when I was around, that she was always just putting the lip gloss away because her lookout friend by the stairs had told her I was coming. 

The sad thing was that I was too embarrassed to use my four years of high school Spanish to tell her directly how cute she looked cute, how I liked her jeans or her her hair, so our conversations always started bursting with promise, but ended quickly and awkwardly. Still, her part of the warehouse seemed to have an awful lot of things that needed fixing, and I always made it a point to be the one to answer the call. 

I couldn't help but grin when I saw her at the office party - I hadn't really expected her there. The warehouse staff had their own party before Christmas, and between the language barrier and the way some departments condescended to the warehouse staff because they were hourly, I guess they felt unwelcome. But there she was in the center of a half-dozen of her friends, all clustered near the punch table when I walked in. Her face lit up and she waved, so I grinned at her and waved back. I headed over toward the punch table as though to scoop myself a cup, but really I hoped to have to brave her teasing friends and maybe even the askance glance of a co-worker if she caught me in a hug. 

I wasn't disappointed - her arms spread wide and wrapped around my chest, I caught her around the shoulders and squeezed - and while we lingered some kind of flowery perfume wafted from her hair. Her lips found my neck and I tingled inside, then turned red as her friends tittered while she smudged away a burgundy lipstick. Still, it was worth it. I felt melty inside, and goofy. I bit my tongue so I wouldn't say anything too stupid. 

"chHi, Zhay-mie." 

I loved the way her mouth formed my name. 

"Ju look 'an-some tonight." She beamed with satisfaction once she'd finished the words. 

"No, Sylvia - you look cute! Very hot! Your dress... your hair!" I blushed at my own words, but I wasn't just stammering politeness. I'd never seen her so made up before, with deep red lips and her eyelids painted smokey and dark. Her eyes gleamed and seemed to lock mine to her. Her hair - usually pulled back into a lively ponytail - now fell in shining black curls over her shoulders. She wore a green blouse with the buttons open low enough just to show a promise of cleavage, black maryjanes and thigh-highs, and short little pleated skirt that was possibly even more appealing than her skin-tight jeans. 

One of her friends translated what I said and she pushed playfully at my shoulder. I can't really remember what happened next, but our conversation must have drifted because an hour and a half later I was standing on the other side of the cafeteria talking to my boss and glancing around for the occasional glimpse of her friends across the room. But it wasn't them I wanted to see again; I wanted to fill my eyes with Sylvia! I wanted to try to talk to her again. Anything to be near her - to feel the electricity of her presence. But I couldn't find her at all, and I started to feel a little sorry for myself that I hadn't had a better opportunity; no, really I was mad at myself for not making an opportunity - it was my fault for being such a heel when clearly she kind of liked me, too. I excused myself for the bathroom - it was the best place to be alone and tell myself just how many types of an idiot I was. 

She was waiting in the half-dark of the hallway outside the cafeteria, leaning against the painted cinderblock wall and whispering with one of her friends. 

"Zhay-mie!" 

The unexpected sight of her, the sound of her voice, set my blood pumping and made me a little weak-kneed and goofy. So much for resolve. 

Her friend disappeared while she clopped across the cement floor, stopping close enough that I thought she was going to hug me again. Instead she put her small hand - her fingers were too delicate for warehouse work, I thought - on my chest. "I need for ju to chhelp me. In the Shipping Office. Five minutos, o-kay?" And then she was gone - slipped down the dark stairwell that went to the warehouse. 

I went to the bathroom. My heart was pounding, my palms sweating. I didn't have any reason to be nervous - except for the fact that the hottest woman who had ever said my name had just invited me back into a dark corner of the warehouse for something that probably started with mistletoe and ended in one of a hundred different fantasies - or in one of a hundred ways I could embarrass myself. I stared at myself in the mirror over the sink and forced my face to relax. I needed to stay cool. I splashed water on my cheeks and scrubbed them dry, but I still looked like a nervous dork. 

The warehouse was dark, and I knew my way around just well enough to avoid tripping on the pallets littering the walkways. The lights in the shipping office were completely out; even cupping my hands over my eyes I couldn't see a thing through the windows, so I pulled the door open and stepped through. 

A soft, small hand found mine and pulled me completely inside. The door shut and the hand crooked behind my neck and a pair of lips closed over mine and, oh! the luscious warm heaven of a first kiss swelled within me. I kissed her back, first touching her arm, then slipping my hand behind her back until we were both out of breath and gasping. Then she caught my cheeks between her hands and we were kissing again; her lips opened and the little tip of a hot tongue flicked out and teased my lips and teeth. 

She laughed - it sounded half-relieved and half-exultant. "I am glad! Glad that ju come!" 

"Yo tambien!" rolled from my tongue in an embarrassingly goofy fashion, and I leaned back in, eager for another taste of the lips I was already addicted to. 

But she was pulling me further into the room, away from the windows and door. My eyes had adjusted to the dark just enough that I kept from stumbling before she pushed me down into the thread-bare couch in the front of the office - some patchy re-upholstered leftover from an ex-employee's moving sale. It was my favorite furniture in the world at that moment. She had settled into my lap, straddling my thighs so she could wrap her arms around my shoulders and kiss me again. She was deliciously aggressive with her mouth, sucking my lower lip between her own, nipping at my chin and jaw, nibbling on my outer ear. I could feel her lipstick all over my lips and cheeks - in my mind each smudge of her lips on my skin was a glowing badge of lust fulfilled. Her scent - the perfume of her heavy black hair - the gentle, powdery smell of her makeup - and something more musky, more animalistic - filled my nose. I breathed deeply - I wanted to fill my lungs, too. My lips found her neck as she nibbled my ear, and I discovered the soft skin beneath her jawline to be intoxicatingly supple. 

My kisses descended down her slender neck and she moaned, rolling back her head and arching her shoulders to bare her collarbone to me. 

"Ai, Zjay-mie!" Her hands found mine on her hips and firmly relocated them up to her chest, cupping them over her apple-sized breasts while she hurriedly disentangled more buttons and pulled wide the neck of her shirt. Smooth, creamy-tan skin flowed down from her neck and poured into the black lacy frills at the top of her bra. Even through the cotton of her shirt I felt her nipples stiffening before she wrapped her arms around my neck and pulled my head down to her chest, to the nipples that now strained to free themselves from the sheer black confines of the bra... 

"Shh!" Her breath caught and she froze, head perked to listen. 

I held her in place, my lips hesitating just above the curve of her breast. "What is it?" 

"Mierde! Vamanos." Wrapping her shirt back around her, she grabbed my wrist and slipped from my lap to retreat further into the Shipping Office - and into the supply closet in the back wall. She'd just pulled the door shut when I heard the glass door to the office open and the shrill laugh of the Owner's daughter, muffled by the closet door but clearly drunk, and the slurred voice of her date. A bright blue glow flashed beneath the supply closet door as the copy machine surged to action. 

It was completely dark in the closet, and I could feel the odd angles of boxes crowding me from either side. Sylvia's body squirmed distractingly ahead of me - she was pulling me up against her. I felt a hand press lightly against my lips, urging me to silence, while her other hand took mine and pressed it against her, slipping it beneath her shirt and against the flesh of her breast. Her heart was beating heavily; her breath rose and fell with silent excitement. 

She slid my hand down further, over the slight curve of her belly, over the pleats of her skirt until my fingers brushed the warm skin of her bare inner thigh. She grabbed my fingertips and pulled them back up, between her legs, until I was rubbing against the slick nylon of her panties. She moaned - too low in her chest to be heard by the raucous couple outside - as my fingers found and massaged the wet and slightly sticky spot between her legs. 

For a gloriously long moment my hand worked silently against the mound beneath her panties, and I held my breath so I could hear hers clearly beneath the mechanical rodeo of the copier. Then she'd pulled my hand free and raised it to her mouth; her warm lips closed over my middle fingers and suckled. 

I nearly giggled at the pleasure of it, but managed to compose myself enough for a single ragged breath. 

Then her own hands returned beneath her skirt and she was touching herself, squirming against me for a moment until her fingers pressed into my mouth and introduced her musky tang to my tongue. I sucked her fingers clean. 

Leaning very close to me she breathed into my ear, "You like?" 

"Yes," I agreed, too eagerly, almost hissing. 

Her lips found and pressed to mine, kissing hungrily while she pushed down on my shoulders. It took me a moment to realize she was pushing me down to my knees, guiding my head down beneath her lifted skirt. I sank down to a crouch, then to a kneel between reams of paper and shipping labels, and even before my lips open testingly over her panties she was pressing up against my face, pushing the slick panties and the plump flesh beneath into my mouth. 

I sucked the juices from her panties, then stretched them aside and thrust my tongue into the slit of her pussy; she responded with a shiver and groan that certainly would have been heard by the Owner's daughter if she wasn't so drunkenly loud herself. Sylvia leaned forward onto my face like it was a saddle and ground down, testing the weight of her hips against the strength in my neck. She was light enough that I could have lifted her, but I don't know that she would have cared - with each circling, mashing swipe that her pussy made over my tongue, she became more aggressive. She kept shifting in a search for balance and leverage, pushing my face further beneath her, hooking a leg over my shoulder and squeezing my cheeks between the supple, now slippery skin of her thighs. Her fingers twisted into my hair and gripped; she was breathing heavily, moaning impatiently, whispering something encouraging in Spanish. 

My hands finally slid up the back of her thighs to grab her ass and pull her against my open mouth; she responded with a delighted growl and a newly urgent humping thrust.

My face was already soaked with her juices when she seem to finally find just the right position to give her clit the friction it needed between my tightened lips; her swollen pussy was flowing and she began to gasp. 

Then she fell. She must have grabbed something loose on the shelf for leverage, because a box clattered to the floor behind her as she suddenly slipped off my mouth. Her thighs clenched tightly around my head while I caught her back and kept her from toppling to the floor in front of me. I froze, expecting to hear something from the couple outside the door, but Sylvia only hissed and cursed. 

"Chingalo! Down! Down! On jur back - Jes!" 

I hurriedly twisted and shifted until I was laying on my back beneath her; she frantically kicked her panties to the side and fell on top of me, dropping to a kneeling squat that shoved my pointed tongue between her labia and crammed the bulb of my nose up against her clit. She breathed through her teeth as she found just the right spot again and twisted down onto my face like she wanted my head completely inside her, clutching at my shirt and chin. Her thighs clenched and stiffened, her grip on my chin became rigid, and then she gasped and bit back a scream. 

At last she relaxed and giggled; I sucked in my first deep breath in a minute. She slid back until her swollen pussy lips lightly brushed my forehead and she patted my drenched cheek and touched her fingertips to my mouth. "Good boy. Good, good." She knelt now and leaned forward until her arms rested on my stomach. Her pussy slid forward and gingerly grazed against my lips before jerking away. "Lamer mi panocha. Lick. Lick it. Zhentle. Zhently." 

She hovered just above my tongue, gasping and pulling away each time like I had an ice cube in my mouth. Each time I waited until I could feel her again, just millimeters away, trembling with anticipation, and I ran the tip of my tongue along the slit between her labia until it neared her clitoris and she jerked away with a laughing yelp. 

I stretched my ears to listen beyond the closet door. I didn't hear anyone now - maybe they'd finished their ass-copying debauchery out there and we could move back out to the couch, but I didn't get a chance to voice my suggestion: suddenly I was the one gasping. Her hands had slipped into my pants while she lay over my stomach, and she'd been squeezing at the thick lump in my shorts, but now she'd pulled my cock free and closed the wet heat of her mouth over the tip. 

My hips surged of their own accord, but she'd taken it from her lips and seemed to be regarding it as a curiosity in the darkness. I felt her tongue twirl around the head before it slid down the shaft, which had become very hard and rigid and hopeful. 

I groaned, and her hips pushed down against my face - my distraction had made her more insistent than shy again. This time I had a better idea what she wanted me to do with my tongue and lips, so while her mouth plunged over the head of my cock, I flicked the hardened tip of my tongue against the bead of her clit until she was practically bouncing on my face, grinding in quick, jerky circles and muttering naughty-sounding Spanish I couldn't even begin to remember. I loosened my tongue - she'd lost focus on my cock and now just held it by a deathgrip near the base, keeping it achingly hard without providing any release. But she only became more forceful, mashing herself down onto my mouth until I was paid her the proper attention and she was squealing and spasming and squeezing my chin between her thighs and ass. 

At last she sat back on her heels and sighed happily. "Good. I like ju, Zhay-mie. Me gusta mucho." She seemed to suddenly remember her grip on my cock, because she let it go with a little pat. 

"Sylvia! What about..." I glanced down at the obelisk toppling toward her ...and saw the silhouettes of two of her friends beyond the now-ajar closet door.

She laughed, and picked through her words slowly while I scrambled to button my pants. "Ju tease me - todos los dias. I tease ju. Jes' a little." She licked her lips and giggled as she rose quickly to her feet, snatching up her balled panties from beside her head. She pushed the door completely open, and her silhouette joined her friends'. "I like ju," she repeated while her friends stifled titters. "Again. Ju an' me. Pronto." And then I heard three pairs of heels clop quickly across the cement floor of the Shipping Office, and hurry out the door into the warehouse. 

I lay on my back and groaned.

Sylvia



John

I never had a clue. I have been married for thirty years and it never occurred to me that my wife might be unfaithful but there it was, a photo in my office mail of her with a cock in her mouth looking up at the camera. The picture had evidently been taken by the guy she was blowing. It broke my heart and I couldn't understand how or why she was doing this or who had sent me this photo. 

Sylvia

I was feeling old. The kids were gone out of the house, our daughter was married and in fact, I was a grandmother twice over. I had gone through menopause in my late 40's without many problems and my marriage was good, if not exciting. John, my husband, was CFO of a large corporation and made handsome living, I wanted for nothing. We had money and a lovely home and everything that goes with it. I even had a boob job and a face lift and yet I still felt old and ugly. We had settled into middle age like most people do, comfortable with each other and perhaps a little bored and as for me, a little depressed. In high school and college I was the pretty girl, the one all the boys flocked around, that is until I met John. He was handsome and smart and I knew he was going places. When he asked me to marry him I eagerly accepted. The three children came along in the first six years and I spent the next twenty raising them. John was busy advancing up the corporate ladder and seemed to be involved more and more in his career. Now I have time on my hands, the house is empty and while I play tennis with three friends and do some volunteer work I have nothing important to occupy my time. It was at tennis that I met Brian.

John

Sylvia and I were married when I finished my MBA and she graduated from college. She worked for a year and then became pregnant with our first child and never worked afterwards Two more came along and all of them are now finished with their schooling and are out of the house which is now too big for just the two of us. We even have two grandchildren. My career has taken off and I am CFO of a multinational corporation with an annual income in the low seven figures. Financially we have nothing to worry about. Sylvia has her own checking account and credit cards and manages the household on her own. I just plunk down $5000.00 into her account every month and if she needs more I never question her, I just put in what ever she wants. It worked well all of our married life, of course when we were first married, the amounts were less but they increased as we prospered. She has everything that she could want, why is she fucking another man? Why, when she is 52 years old, do I have to see a picture like this one? She is still a good looking woman and certainly doesn't look her age. I wonder how long has this been going on? I wonder who this guy is and is he the only one? So many questions and I want all the answers before I do anything.

Sylvia

About six months ago one of the girls didn't show up for tennis so we were playing one against two. I noticed a young man watching us and I invited him to join us and he accepted. He was about the same age as my oldest son and I have to admit, much more handsome. Because I had invited him, he became my partner and we played well together. He kept complimenting me on the way I played and patted me on the back or arm after a really good shot. The touches got more frequent as the game went on and in the middle of the last set I got a pat on the ass.

"Brian, what are you doing?"

"I couldn't resist it. When I am behind you and you are playing net, you bend forward and I get a view of the most delicious backside I have see in years. I just couldn't help touching it."

"Well I can't stop you from looking but I don't appreciate your touching."

But the trouble was I did appreciate the touch. I found it very exciting that a handsome young man found my bottom delicious. He did it twice more before the game was over. The first time I just said,

"Brian." in an angry tone and the second time I just giggled. I was now flirting with him!

We showered after the game and I dressed very slowly and let the other two women leave before me and when I exited the locker room, sure enough there was Brian. 

"I knew you would let the other two leave before you did. I waited because I wanted to get to know you better. How about a drink before you go home." I accepted with,

"Better a cup of coffee."

So we went to a Starbucks and talked for an hour. I found out that he was a struggling actor who went to drama school in the morning and an occasional audition in the afternoon. He heaped flattery and compliments on me and I have to admit I loved the attention, I hadn't been hit on like that in years. Then he asked,

"Have lunch with me tomorrow?"

"Brian, I am flattered that you asked me but I don't think that's a good idea."

"Please Sylvia; I enjoy just talking to you."

"Well alright, but just lunch and talk. Don't get any ideas."

I knew he wanted to get into my pants and I found the idea very exciting even though I no intention of letting it happen. Or did I? I didn't know myself.

John

So I did what I had to do, I hired a detective agency to initiate surveillance. It wasn't cheap but I could afford the best and they were good. In no time they were in the house when she was out at the tennis club. They concealed cameras and microphones in every strategic spot. Even knowing they were there I couldn't find most of them. She never went out at night but I did not know what went on during the day. Also, at least half a dozen times a year, I was out of town on business, some times for a week or more. Now there was electronic surveillance 24/7 in the house and she was under observation whenever she left. We even put a voice activated recorder under the seat of her car. Many years ago when she opened her own bank account we had done it as a joint account and she probably never thought about it. That gave me access to all her credit and debit card bills. When I downloaded her bank statements I got the shock of my life. Her bank balance was below $1000.00 and as I reviewed the statements I saw that up until about six months ago the running balance averaged over $20,000.00. Then the cash withdrawals started, a thousand here and two thousand there and the credit card payments went from about two thousand a month to over five thousand. Where was all that money going? Now I downloaded the credit and debit card statements and I found charges for thousands, including a downtown jeweler and a men's wear tailor. Now I was getting somewhere. I went to the tailor and inquired about getting a custom made suit. He was most accommodating and told me that his suits sold for between $1500.00 and $2500.00, depending on the fabric chosen. Thanked him and told him I would be back. I then went to the jeweler and showed him the charge on the copy of the bill. Yes, he remembered selling it to a lovely lady, Mrs. Jackson, who was buying it for her nephew. He thought she called him Brian. It was chronometer, a very fine watch. I thanked him and said that now I remembered who it was for.

That evening at the dinner table I said Sylvia.

"I have been checking my credit card bills and I found a few discrepancies so I called them and they gave me credit for the overcharges. Can you give me yours for the last six months so I can check them against your receipts to see if the same thing happened to yours?"

"I don't keep them," she said, "I used to but I never found mistakes so now I just pay them and shred them and the receipts afterwards."

A good way to cover your tracks, I thought to myself.

"Well in the future hold on to them. I hate to be taken advantage of."

"OK dear, that's no problem."

All of this with straight face on her part even though she had spent almost $50,000 in the last six months! I don't know her anymore, if I ever did.

Sylvia

He was seated at the table when I walked in to the restaurant. He stood up and held my chair. John hasn't done that in years.

"I was worried you wouldn't show up."

"Why, I accepted your invitation."

"I know you did but I was afraid you might have had second thoughts. I was awake half the night worrying."

"Silly boy, there is nothing for you to worry about a lunch date."

"I am not silly, I am serious. All I could think of is that I want to make love to you." 

There it was, out on the table, a proposition and all I could say was,

"Brian,"

I said it sternly but he could see in my eyes I was receptive.

"Please Sylvia, you have no idea how desirable you are and how hard my cock was when I was lying in my bed thinking of you, thinking of kissing your lips, your breasts and your pussy. Look how hard I am now."

He slid his chair back and I looked in his lap and I saw the tent in his pants. So help me, I wanted to reach out and touch it, right there in the restaurant. I was wet and my nipples were stiff.

"No Brian, I told you lunch, that's all."

"I know you are a few years older than I am but I believe I am falling in love with you."

"Brian stop it, let's eat or I am going to leave."

We ate lunch and talked. When ever he brought up the subject of making love to me I shut him down. He had such a hang dog look about him that I wanted to hold his head against my breast and comfort him. When we finished he escorted me back to my car. He held the door open for me and as I turned to sit in the driver's seat he put his hand behind my head and kissed me. I couldn't pull away from him and as his tongue entered my mouth I responded. I couldn't help myself, I was turned on. 

"Please," he said, "I have a room reserved at the motel down the block. Come with me."

I surrendered and said,

"Get in before I change my mind."

I was only with three college boys before I met John and no other man but him after I married. Brian was in a class by himself. The three before John just fucked, John made love, but Brian was a virtuoso. He had me on an orgasmic high for the whole four hours we spent together. His hands and his lips, touched me in ways I had never experienced and his cock was magic in my pussy. No one, including John, ever made me cum like that. I finally had to beg him to stop. I was crying because I was so happy. When he finished with me I was clinging to him like I was drowning and he was my life preserver. He said to me,

"I love you," and I responded,

"I love you too."

It was late and I had to get home in time for dinner with John and as I drove the realization of what I had done and said, hit home to me. I felt guilt but yet so euphoric that this handsome young man was in love with me that the guilt was far over balanced by the pleasure. And guilt be damned, I wanted more and I was determined to got it.

John

Monday I heard from Jim Barrows at the agency and it was not good news.

"I am sorry to say, Mr. Jackson, your wife is having an affair with Brian Truet, a young man who plays tennis at her club."

Although I suspected the affair, the news hit me like a blow to the stomach. He continued,

"She plays tennis with her friends every Tuesday and Thursday afternoon but she meets him for lunch every Monday, Wednesday and Friday and they go to a motel for two or three hours afterwards. In fact they have a standing reservation for the same room every week. We tried, but the motel will not let us put surveillance in the room. They are afraid of being sued for invasion of privacy. We do have some audio tapes of phone calls between your wife and Mr. Truet which I will have delivered to your office tomorrow. They are incriminating but not decisive. I would advise continuing our surveillance."

"OK continue it, I have to go Europe in two weeks, let's see if anything happens in the house. Meanwhile find out every thing you can about this guy, I want to bust his balls."

"Mr. Jackson we cannot be a party to any violence."

"No violence Jim, I'm not the physical type but I will make him sorry he played in my backyard."

At dinner that night I tried to draw her out.

"How was your day dear, any excitement?"

"No I had lunch with a couple of the girls and then some shopping."

"Did you find anything interesting?"

"As a matter of fact I did. I saw a lovely designer dress that I drooled over."

"Really will you model it for me?

"I didn't buy it. I am a little short in my bank account."

"Why didn't you tell me before? I will be glad to deposit more for you."

"Well I guess I have been a little extravagant lately and I didn't want to ask."

"Nonsense my love, you know I deny you nothing."

"Well then I can use another $3000 to get me through the month."

"I will have it in your account in the morning."

"You are a darling, that's why I love you so much."

She came over and sat in my lap and gave me a kiss with her tongue so far down my throat I almost choked. I almost threw up too since she probably had that tongue wrapped around his cock all afternoon. Then she slid off my lap and kneeled between my legs and said,

"I want to show you how much I love you."

She opened my belt and pants and took out my cock,

"OOOOOOOOhhh. You look so delicious I want to make it bigger."

She began fondling me and in spite of myself I grew hard. She looked up at me and smiled and then began to suck it, still looking at me and smiling all the time. Now our sex life was pretty good, or at least I thought so up until now, but I never remember getting a blow job at the dinner table and I never remember getting one from her without my asking. I saw that smiling face and knew right then that she looked like whore working for a larger tip. It was the face I saw in the picture. How the hell did she get like this? I finally came and I have to admit it was good and she swallowed every drop. She then got up and kissed me again and I tasted myself on her tongue. I wondered how many times have I tasted someone else's cum? 

The next morning I got the two tapes and played them in my office. I heard her say.

"Good morning darling."

"And a good morning to you my sweet Sylvia."

"Oh Brian I couldn't wait until he left so that I could call and hear your voice."

"I can't wait until tomorrow when I can hold you in my arms and make love to you." 

She giggled. My wife giggled like a teenager.

"Brian when I am in your arms I am in heaven."

This dialogue was from a third rate B movie but it was my wife and her lover.

"And when my cock is in you we are both I heaven." 

"Oh Brian your cock is so beautiful. I love it inside of me and I love playing with it and most of all I love sucking on it."

"You are so beautiful Sylvia especially when you look up at me as you suck. It makes me love you all the more. Some day I am going to take a picture of you like that."

I'll have to get a couple of 8x10 glossies of that. They will come in handy when I divorce her ass. This conversation went on for almost half an hour and it made me sick because he was bullshitting her left and right and she ate it up. The other tape was just them confirming that they would be meeting for lunch.

Sylvia

We met every Monday, Wednesday and Friday afternoon. I always finished sexually satiated and then hungry for more before I got home afterwards. I was literally a bitch in heat when I was with him. I couldn't get enough of his cock. The minute I walked into the room with him I was tearing at his fly so that I could suck on it. I wanted it hard for me. The third day we met as I was sucking on it he said, 

"Sylvia, look up at me," 

And as I did he snapped a picture of me with his cock in my mouth and my eyes looking up at his. 

"Why did you take my picture like that?"

"Because you like to do it and I want to able to remember you like this."

I was beyond reason and just went back to sucking. One day he was late for our rendezvous and I berated him for it and he said he had lost his watch and didn't know the time. So I bought him a new Omega. Another time he complained that he had an audition next week and he needed a new suit, so I got him a custom made suit. I also bought him gold cuff links and three monogrammed shirts. Needless to say I was paying for the motel room each time we met and for all the lunches, after all, he was not working. I was at the point that I didn't care about anything but having his cock in my mouth, my ass or my pussy. 

John

Tuesday night I almost didn't come home but I had to continue in the usual routine. At the table I told her I had to go to Europe the next week and I asked her to come with me. She asked,

"Where in Europe are you going?"

"Berlin and maybe Dresden. We are interested in buying a German company."

"If it was Paris or London I might have gone but Berlin in the winter doesn't interest me. I'll just stay home and play tennis." 

I thought to myself, 'Yeah, and with whose balls'.

Friday, just before I left the office I got a report on Truet and two more tapes that I listened to on Saturday in my home office. The Wednesday tape started with,

"I have wonderful news for you darling, he is going to Europe for a week. We can have our days and now nights together. I can't wait to have you for 24 hours and by my side when I sleep at night."

"That's wonderful news. I will finally be able to take you out on some real dates to dinner and dancing."

"Brian, I am looking forward to being able to wake you in the morning by sucking on your cock and having your cum for breakfast."

"I am sure you will look as beautiful in the morning as you do during the day. You are so gorgeous I dream about you even when I am not asleep."

She giggled said "Oh you."

My god she swallowed his line of crap. How could she be so dumb?

Then they started on the phone sex,

"Sylvia?"

"Yes Brian."

"Are you still in your night gown?"

"Yes Brian, just like you want me to be."

"Slip the straps off your shoulders; I want you naked above your waist."

"Oh Brian, my nipples are so hard."

"I see you in my mind. Your gorgeous breasts, so plump, so tempting. I want to suck on them. Can you feel my lips on you sucking? Feed me darling, pull them for me."

I could hear my wife moaning as she fondled herself.

"Drop your night gown to the floor and spread your legs. I want to see my beautiful pussy. Now I want to touch it. I want to taste it. I want to lick it. I want to kiss it. I want to eat it."

She was frantic now. I could hear her ragged breathing.

"Please."

"Please what?"

"Please I want you to fuck me. I want your cock inside of me."

Goddamn she had no pride. She was begging him.

"Are you going to be good girl for me Sylvia and take good care of me?"

"Yes Brian you know I will. Haven't I been generous with you?"

"Yes you have darling and you don't want it to end so you."

"No Brian, I can't live without you."

"Darling it's my cock you can't live without."

"Please." 

There was desperation in her voice.

"Think of my cock. How long it is. How thick it is. How your cunt feels when it slides into you. Use your fingers, all four, in and out. Feel me fucking you and now CUM."

I heard her scream as she climaxed and then I heard her sobbing,

"I love you, I need you."

"You shall always have me as long as you are good to me."

That son of a bitch was milking her and she was hooked enough to do just what he wanted. Usually before I go on a trip we would have a little extra sex to make up for the time we would be apart. She offered but I begged off by telling her I thought in was coming down with a cold. There was no way I could make love to her after what I had heard.

Sunday evening I left for Berlin. On the plane I read the report on Brian Truet. I also looked at pictures of him. I have to admit my wife has good taste. He is good looking and well built. I guess the women would call him a hunk. He is also an actor who never made it. 28 years old, unemployed and living with a blonde, and if you can believe it, her name is Barbie. He earned less than fifteen thousand last year which means he can't even pay his rent. He must be living off the blonde and my wife. He has done a few beer commercials and a few bit parts and time is passing him by. No wonder he is playing my wife




Sylvia



Sylvia

All the while I was able to control my behavior so that John never knew what I was doing and when he told me about the trip to Germany it was all I could do to keep from jumping with joy. I kept a straight face when I refused his offer to accompany him while I was thinking about the wonderful time I was going to have with Brian while he was away. John made it easy for me because he seemed too busy at work and had lost all interest in making love to me. I was relieved that I wouldn't have to fake anything with him. John left Sunday evening for Germany and Brian called me at about 8 o'clock. We did phone sex for two hours and I came four times before we called it quits. He moved in Monday morning and it was nonstop sex almost all day.

John

There is a seven hour time difference so I couldn't call home until the evening to let her know I arrived safely. I called at 10 pm on Monday night, it was 3pm at home, the phone rang four times and the answer machine picked up. I left a message. Tuesday the same. Wednesday she answered,

"Hello."

"Well I finally found you home."

"I'm sorry I didn't know when you would be calling or I would have been here."

"What about yesterday?"

"I was at the tennis club and I just missed your call. Today I made sure to be here. How are you? Is everything going well?"

Then I heard her gasp and the little giggle again. I knew that fucker was with her.

"Yes the deal is moving right along and we should be finished by the end of the week. I expect to be home Saturday afternoon. Have you missed me?"

"Of course I miss you darling. I have been very lonesome and horny. We didn't make love before you left."

I heard the gasp again and heard her say,

"Stop." before she covered the mouth piece and the phone went silent for a moment.

"What was that?" I said.

"The dog tried to jump on the bed. I had to shoo him off."

She thought fast but we had trained him never to get on the bed and I knew it wasn't the dog that was fucking her. I couldn't even stand talking to her anymore. 

"I have had a long day and two more to go so I am very tired. I'll skip the calls tomorrow and Friday and I will see you Saturday evening."

"OK dear get your rest and come home to me as fast as you can."

No disappointment on her part on having only one phone call for a week apart. Thirty years and I don't know this woman.

Sylvia

At three o'clock Monday afternoon the phone rang right when I was in the middle of my fifth climax for the day. It was from John and the call went right to the answer machine. He said that he arrived safely and would call again at the same time tomorrow. Tuesday was a repeat as far as the sex and the phone calls went. Wednesday I was getting a bit sore so I made sure I was able to answer the phone. Brian and I were in bed and I was fending him off as we waited for the call. He couldn't keep his hands off of me. You have no idea how exciting it is to have a lover who desires you like that. The phone rang and it was John and as soon as I started talking to him Brian started to play with me. 

"Hello."

Brian sucked on my nipple.

"Well I finally found you home."

"I'm sorry I didn't know when you would be calling or I would have been here."

Brian's hand covered my pussy

"What about yesterday?"

"I was at the tennis club and I just missed your call. Today I made sure to be here. How are you? Is everything going well?"

Brian bit my nipple.

"Yes the deal is moving right along and we should be finished by the end of the week. I expect to be home Saturday afternoon. Have you missed me?"

"Of course I do darling. I have been very lonesome and horny. We didn't make love before you left." 

Brian got between my legs and started licking my clit. 

"Stop," I said before I could cover the mouth piece and then, "You are going to make him suspicious."

"What was that?" John said,

"The dog tried to jump on the bed. I had to shoo him off."

I continued talking to John .I don't think he believed me but he didn't press the issue. Then he told me he wouldn't bother calling the next two nights and he would be home Saturday evening. He always called every night when he was away in business trips but I was relieved that he would not be calling any more this time. I had Brian to play with and I didn't miss John at all.

John

I got home in time for dinner on Saturday and she was somewhat distant. I would have thought she was going to be all over me to show how much she loved me. But no, I made no advances and neither did she. When we went to bed she turned her back to me and went to sleep. I was perplexed and very relieved because I never intended to make love to her again. Monday when I got to the office I got a call from Jim Barrows,

"I have to see you right away."

"Can't it wait? I just got back from Germany. I have reports to file." 

"No it can't wait."

"It sounds serious."

"As serious as your life."

"Come right over."

Jim came over right away. He had 5 sets of CDs. One for each day I was away.

Each contained video and audio of the events of the day for Sylvia and Brian. I said,

"There must be over a hundred hours in those discs."

"More like 125 and we edited some out. Most of it is sex but I made a set of the serious stuff."

"What could be more serious than the sex, I thought that's what we were looking for."

"Watch, this is the Monday disc."

He put a disc in my PC and what I saw and heard made me blind with fury,

"Sylvia, I need a car."

"You know I will always let you use mine."

"No, I need a car of my own."

"Darling I have been used up my household allowance buying you gifts."

"Well stop the gifts and lease the Mercedes I have been looking at. It is only $700 a month."

"I don't know Brian. He questioned me last month about my bank account and I told him I was short but then he gave me another $3000."

"Well get him to up your allowance to $10,000. You deserve it. Half of what he has is yours anyway. You know I haven't worked in a while because those bastards won't hire me. I want to marry you but I can't ask you to marry a pauper. If you divorced him you would get half of his fortune, I am sure it would be enough for us to marry then."

"Brian, would you really marry me?"

"Of course I would darling. The only thing stopping me is that I can't afford to keep you in the style that you deserve."

I watched him get down on one knee and take her hand in his. He held it to his lips and kissed it.

"Beloved Sylvia, some day when you are free of him, will you marry me?"

Then I heard that stupid giggle again as she said,

"Yes Brian, yes I will marry you. To have you for myself 24/7 is my dream."

Sylvia 

I couldn't believe it when Brian asked me to marry him. He wanted me to divorce John and marry him! I knew that I would have to support him but I was overwhelmed with the idea that he wanted to marry me. He had driven all my love for John from my conscience and I was obsessed with the mindless sex we had for the last few days. I wanted him as my own for as long as I could have him. I was willing to give up my thirty year marriage to have this young lover in my bed. I was entitled to half of our fortune why couldn't I use it to find my happiness?

John

So there it was, thirty years of marriage gone down the drain. I don't know how it happened or why, but it was over. I thought I knew my wife, hell, I loved her and here she was willing and ready to leave me for a younger man. Well plenty of guys have done it for younger wives so why not the other way around. They say that there is no brain in the head of a cock so I guess there are none in a pussy either. Jim said,

"Now listen to this one."

"Hello."

"Hey Barb, it's me."

"Brian sweetheart, how is it going?"

"Like taking candy from a baby. She swallows everything I feed her, including my cock. She already agreed to the divorce."

"How about the accident?"

"I didn't get to that yet. Give me a chance, in a couple of days I will make sure it is her idea and then we will get the whole pot full instead of just half."

"I miss having that cock of yours in my hand. I am jealous of her having you all this week."

"Just think of how much money we will have when this is all over. Oops, I have to run. She is coming back. Talk to you later."

I was livid. All I worked for, all the hours I put in to build a fortune for my family, these assholes wanted to steal and my stupid wife was going to be their unwitting accomplice. Jim said more to come. Good god, what more could there be? The next disc was Thursdays and it was a video. Sylvia was sitting leaning against the headboard of our bed and he was kneeling between her thighs, her hands were on his cock.

"Brian honey, I can't get enough of this cock."

"That's because you are still married."

"I won't be after the divorce."

"But then you would only have half the money, just think about how nice it would be to have it all and me too."

As he said that he rubbed his cock on her clitoris. I could see her shiver and her hips move to retain contact with it.

"Don't tease me like that. Please fuck me."

"Wouldn't you like to have it all?

"Oh god your cock feels so wonderful. I want it in me."

"Wouldn't you like to have it all?"

"Yes I want all your cock in me."

"Imagine if you were a widow. You would have his whole fortune and me for the rest of your life."

"OOOOOOH yes fill me with it. Yes I want it all, the money, your cock and you forever."

"Sylvia, is that really what you want."

"I don't care if I am divorcee or a widow; I only know I want you. Make me cum now." 

When he had his answer he plunged his cock in hard and deep and she came so hard she almost threw him off. 

"Sylvia, I want you to make sure you don't drive or ride in John's car any more."

"I never drive it and I only ride in it when we go out together and that doen't happened much any more."

"Well if you do go out together make sure that you use your car he might have an accident in his."

"I don't want to hear of any talk like that."

She was so infatuated with him I was not even sure she knew what she had agreed to but she had made herself an accomplice to murder.

Jim looked at me and said, 

"I am sorry to have to bring this to you."

"It's nothing that you have done it's my damn wife and her lover. I still can't understand her."

Jim just shrugged.

"The reason I insisted on seeing you at once is that you are now in immediate danger and I think that Sylvia will be if she ever marries him."

"I am so angry that I never gave any thought of that. She inherits from me and then he inherits from her. Should we call the police?"

"Yes, at least to alert them. I think he is a danger to you but I also think that she is not dangerous. I don't think she knows what he intends to do to you or her."

"Well no matter what she thinks I am finished with her. After 30 years she is willing to see me dead just to get her hands on his cock."

Sylvia

On Thursday afternoon I was holding Brian's cock in my hand, I was telling him how much I loved it. He was telling me how I could have it every day, all day after we were married. He talked about how much more money we would have if I was a widow instead of a divorcee and he just drove me wild with desire. I told him I didn't care if I was either one I just wanted him to fuck me. I was beyond all reason and wild for him. When he finally fucked me I had agreed to everything he wanted. Then I had, what had to have been, the best orgasm of my entire life. He told me never to ride in John's car and since I so rarely did I told him I wouldn't and when he said something about John having an accident, I told him I didn't want to hear about such thing.

John got home from Germany Saturday evening, shortly after I had shooed Brian away from the house. I had been thoroughly fucked all week long and had to stop Brian from doing it again at five o'clock. The man was insatiable but I loved all the attention I got from him. He made me feel so young and desirable. I was still full of his cum when John walked in the door. Somehow I could not welcome him as enthusiastically I always had and he didn't seem to notice nor did he make any advances toward me. He went to work Monday morning as usual and I met Brian as I had done in the past. He again warned me about riding in John's car and I said,

"I don't know why you are so worried about him having an accident; He is a very careful driver."

"That maybe but I am always worried about your safety.

"That's so sweet of you," I replied. 

John

Because he told Sylvia to stay out of my car we figured he was going to sabotage it so my detectives hid cameras in the garage. Sure enough Thursday afternoon we caught a video of him loosening the brake line on my car so that after I braked a few times I would have no way to stop the car. Then we called the cops. In the course of their investigation they got to Barbie and she rolled over on him and spilled the beans on the scheme. 

Sylvia

John has been distant all week but I didn't care, I had my Brian on Monday and Wednesday afternoons and gloried in the magnificent fucking he was giving me but Friday he did not show up. I was beside myself. He didn't answer his cell phone and I had no other way to contact him. I spent the weekend at my wits end not knowing what had become of my lover. John on the other hand was much more attentive and concerned about my mood. 

"What's wrong dear, you seem upset. Is anything bothering you? I s there anything I can do for you?"

He seemed to have a self satisfied smirk on his face and of course I could not tell him what was bothering me.

Monday afternoon I got a call from Brian.

"I have been arrested and I need you to bail me out."

"Arrested, what for?"

"That's not important. I need bail money at once."

"Of course darling. How much?"

"A quarter of a million."

"What, I don't have that kind of cash."

"You only have to come with ten percent for a bond."

"I don't have twenty five thousand. I spent all my money on you."

"Ask John for it."

"And when I tell him it's for my lover? Are you crazy?"

Well it turns out it wouldn't have made any difference because the police showed up at the house an hour later with a warrant for my arrest on a charge of conspiracy to commit murder. John wouldn't even put up bail for me until our kids got to him and shamed him into doing it.

John

I thought I would feel good when the cops came for Sylvia, I didn't, I felt like shit. I had loved her for thirty years and could not understand what had driven her into his arms or I should say, onto his cock. I didn't even want to go bail for her but the kids ganged up on me so I gave in but I told them they would have to take care of her, I wasn't taking her back into my home. When she came to the house to get her clothes we had our one and only conversation. My lawyer had gotten a copy of Barbie's confession and when I showed it to Sylvia she burst into tears.

"You stupid whore, you are going to be convicted as a coconspirator to commit murder."

She had the Gaul to say,

"But I never did anything to harm you."

"But you never did anything to warn me either. You would have let him kill me and then you would have fucked him afterwards and married him to boot. Then later, when you made him your beneficiary, you probably would have had an accident too. I have about twenty hours recorded of his cock drilling you in every way imaginable. I can't understand what went on in your mind and I certainly don't want to even look at you anymore. When I divorce you, after your conviction, you are not going to get a dime from me. Now get out with what ever you can fit in your car. I never want to see you again.

Sylvia

I saw John once after I was arrested. I found out later that our children had convinced him to make bail for me but they had to guarantee that I would not skip. I had no place to go anyway and no money to go anywhere. I was living with my daughter's family, she was the only one who would take me in. When I went to get my clothes from what had been my home, John was there and he showed me Barbie's confession. When I read it I realized what a fool I had been. I knew Brian wanted John's money but I had also deluded myself into thinking he wanted me also. I had thrown away my life for a murderous gigolo. John never came to my trial and I was convicted and sentenced to three years in prison. I think John had something to do with my getting a suspended sentence. I will never know because I will never get a chance to ask. My daughter makes sure I am not around when he comes to visit. Brian got fifteen years and he corresponded with me several times a year. When he got out on parole I couldn't resist his wanting to get back together. I was going crazy living with my daughter's family and even then I still wanted his cock. I was 62 years old and he could still make me feel young. At least he did until I came home one day and found him in our bed with an 18 year old neighbor's daughter. I fixed him so that one would want him ever again.

John

He got 15 years in maximum security and she got a three year suspended sentence. She continued to live with our daughter and her family but I never saw her there when I visited. He got out on parole after ten years and hooked up with Sylvia again. After all he had done she still went back to him. I read in the papers that she caught him in bed with some floozy and threw acid in his face. Now she is doing time. 

The only one who could have sent me that picture had to be him and I never found out why he did it. 

As I said,

"The head of a cock has no brains," and Brian was the biggest prick ever I saw."



Sylvia



All rights reserved, 2012. Her name was changed to protect the confidence of the title character.

Summer, 1975

It seemed less an invitation than a summons. "Students matriculating in the national Medical Scientist Training Program will convene at the Given Institute in Aspen, Colorado for four days of meetings with leading biomedical investigators. Please contact the dean's office for your travel and lodging information." The NIH had forecast a shortage of physician-scientists capable of using the then-new techniques of molecular biology towards solutions of pressing clinical problems. In response, several students from each of the nation's medical schools were selected for three additional years of advanced research training. Like the entire program, the summer conference itself was a work-in-progress.

Still, it sounded like an exciting trip from the Midwest to the Rockies. The list of luminaries who would address us "twenty-somethings" included a pair of Nobel Prize-winners and many also-rans—these were household names in the biomedical sciences whose daring experiments were shaping our understanding of molecules inside living cells. Moreover, the schedule included morning lectures, afternoon outings and social events bracketing the evening meals. This would allow for informal networking among the students and also some time for the scientific legends to look us over as potential post-doctoral fellows in their labs.

The first day went smoothly, if predictably. There were necessary welcomes from program directors, inspirational talks about our futures. And then there were some dynamite lectures from top scientists. We were charged up by the end of the day and "what-if" brainstorming went on too far into the night.

The second day started inauspiciously. One of the luminaries had a last minute conflict and sent a young Assistant Professor to give the talk. Her name was Sylvia Chen. At least, that was the Anglicized name she used. English was all-too-obviously a second language. Giving a scientific talk in a resort town didn't come easily to her either. She wore black horn-rimmed glasses, a navy-blue suit that was about one shade off of black, a plain white blouse, hosiery and black pumps—in the middle of summertime Aspen. Needless to say, the audience --including the luminaries—were in jeans and shirts.

Her lecture was painful. No other word suffices. She made the classic error of trying to pack two hours of material into a forty minute talk. It was the first talk of the day, everyone was short on sleep and caffeine. Heads nodded off as soon as the lights went down for her slides. She garnered only the mildest applause (mostly appreciating that the talk was over, I think) and no questions from the audience. She probably didn't care what the grad students thought—we were eight years or so younger than she was. But she had embarrassed herself in front of the luminaries, and she knew it.

She was one of two faculty assigned to our group's afternoon outing—a hike up to Tabor Lake—but kept apart from the laughing and banter. She was always 10 meters ahead of the group, determined to lead. At least she had changed into jeans, a faded blue shirt, and sneakers that had seen better days. From the back, she seemed thin—wiry, even—yet moved with grace despite the altitude that left more than one student winded.

At the top of the hike, while everyone else was swigging water and munching trail mix, I wandered over to where she was sitting.

"Dr. Chen? "

She jumped like a startled deer.

"I didn't mean to intrude. And I did like your lecture this morning."

She peered over the top of her sunglasses at my name tag.

"Thank you...Pat..." . She barely read my name tag and turned away

"Really I did, especially the part about self-assembly of the ribosome. How did you figure that out?" It had been the only part of her talk that I sort of understood.

She turned back to me and took of her sunglasses. Close up, her almond-shaped eyes seemed black even in the afternoon sun.

"Do you really want to know how I figured it out, or are you just trying to be nice?"

Sometimes a white lie is just a good idea.

"Of course I want to understand your insight! It must have been a terrific feeling when it happened."

Her thin lips parted to reveal a hint of a smile.

"Well, I was on a bicycle ride, ...", she started.

She continued the story as we hiked back to the bus. Her story was more perspiration than inspiration, but that's the true nature of science. She had made several false starts. With time, she refined had her theory and did several elegant experiments. I was impressed. But I was also tired—hiking at 8000 feet will do that to you. By the time the bus had brought us back to the hotels, we were both yawning and looked forward to naps before the group dinner. We found that we were both lodged on the second floor of the old Hotel Jerome about five doors down from one another.

***

A nap, a shower and a shave, and I felt like a new person. The sun was low in the sky. I put on a clean shirt and a pair of khakis, ran a comb through my hair, grabbed a jacket—it gets cold pretty quickly in the mountains at night-- and set out for the social/cookout/music event of the evening.

It was quite a shindig. A tent had been raised, there was an open bar and a bandstand had been set up. At altitude, a cocktail or two produced a moderate buzz—and vodka and tonics seemed to be the drink of the evening. Wisely, the bartenders were keeping the pours very light. The grilled meats and vegetables were much appreciated after the long hike. The music was said to be "western"—they told us "western" was different from "country"—but to this day I can't make the distinction.

I hadn't noticed Sylvia's arrival. Several of us students were preoccupied, arguing the merits of this versus that experimental approach. We all seemed to be working on similar problems , albeit at different universities. Eventually we agreed to disagree, and to exchange notes on our results.

I went off on search of a beer and spotted Sylvia sitting alone, almost in the shadows. Despite an elegant green dress and a sweater over her shoulders, she looked uncomfortable. I imagined that the other students wouldn't talk to her—she had given such an impenetrable lecture. The luminaries were all senior to her. She seemed out of her element. I picked up a pair of Coors and walked over to her.

"Did you have a good nap, Sylvia?"

Once again she seemed startled. This time, I think it was the use of her given name. Students in her lab likely thought her first name was "Doctor". Then again, they probably didn't bring her beer. And I wasn't her student.

"Yes, I did. And thank you for the beer."

"Coors. Not as good as Tsingtao, but passable."

"How do you know Chinese beer?"

"What else would one drink with Hunan cuisine?"

"Where have you tasted Hunan cuisine?"

"New York, where I grew up."

She sniffed. "What Americans are served as Hunan cuisine is nonsense."

"So what should I ask for the next time?" She had piqued my curiosity.

"It might be too hot for you."

I rolled my eyes. "Yes, it might. That's why God invented Chinese beer."

"Ask for Gan Guo. But ask for it with chicken or pork, unless you want frog's legs or duck's heads."

***

Dessert and coffee were offered. Fortunately the band realized that the crowd was not riveted by "western-not-country", and had the good sense to switch to some 60's rock-and-roll. Beach Boys. Beatles. Even some Rolling Stones, although the organizer's faces clearly registered dissatisfaction with "Satisfaction". Since just about everyone else was up dancing, I asked her.

"C'mon. Let's dance."

"I can't!"

"You can't? I don't believe you. You look like a terrific dancer."

"I mean I won't. It's not right."

"You must be joking. Everyone else is up. Even the Nobel Laureates." It was true. They were not gifted on their feet, but they also looked like they were having a good time, especially dancing with some of the younger female students. (There must have been some interesting letters home to mom after the meeting: "I danced with a Nobel prize winner!")

Sylvia resisted half heartedly as I pulled her to her feet. "None of your students are here, nor is anyone else from your University, and no one is paying attention. So let's have some fun."

As it turned out, she wasn't a good dancer. She was a very good dancer. Good enough so some of the others noticed and even looked her way applauding at the end of each number. She had the gifts of rhythm and fluidity, conscious of her movements without being self conscious. She sat out the slow dances, of course, long enough for us to chat.

"You looked like you were having a good time out there," I said.

She looked away.

"You know, it's okay to have a little fun."

She quickly turned back and looked me squarely in the eye. "Do you have any idea how hard it is for a woman...especially an Asian woman...to become a successful academic in this country? Do you? They will look for any reason to get rid of me, pass me over." She was still tied up in knots from the lecture that morning.

I shrugged. "But look at everyone else. You are seeing them. Even if they are seeing you, you are behaving no differently than they are. Having fun on a summer evening in the Rocky Mountains is hardly bad behavior. They're not judging you. Neither am I. "

She looked away again. "I've had enough of dancing." She pulled her sweater tight and headed out of the tent towards the hotel.

I watched the crowd for a minute or so, and decided to head back as well.

***

Her pace was slower than it had been on the hike, and I caught up with her about half-way back.

"You're persistent," she said.

I laughed. "More like tenacious, at least according to my professor. He gives me the experiments that other people can't make work. I grab on and don't let go. "

We continued in silence, up the stairs at the hotel. The corridor was empty as we got to her door. She fumbled the old-fashioned key, dropping it to the carpet. I picked it up and opened her door.

"Thank you..."

She might have been a faculty member, and I might have been a student, but we were at different universities, miles apart. So right about then, we were just two adults. And she looked needy. I bent down and kissed her. Directly, firmly, unhesitatingly.

She resisted, but half-heartedly.

"I can't do this!"

I drew her inside her room and closed the door.

"If you still want me to leave after one more kiss, I'll go."

I pulled her towards me, first gently brushing against her lips, then exploring them with my tongue, then biting them. She pushed away, but only gently and only for a moment.

"No one can ever know."

"No one will ever know."

She pulled the drapes closed before turning on a small light by the bed. She stepped into the bathroom, and I heard her peeing. She called out for me to look the other way as she jumped from the bedroom into her bed.

I also used the bathroom. As I got undressed I pulled a triplet of condoms from my wallet, silently thanking my scoutmaster for instilling into me the motto 'Be Prepared'.

When I emerged, the light by the bed was already out. I flipped the bathroom light off, crossed over to her in the darkness, put the condoms on the nightstand and slid between the sheets.

Maybe I'm different, but foreplay to me has always meant exploration with mouth, hands and voice, exploring the crevices of body and mind. Telling a woman that she is beautiful while roaming her neck, her ears, her mouth, her ears, her breasts. Caressing her belly, her thighs, her butt.

Sylvia's breasts were small but firm. Her nipples were similarly small but erect. As my tongue swirled around one and my hand pulled gently on the other, she began to wriggle, moaning with pleasure. I didn't quite understand what she was saying, but she communicated what she wanted by pulling my mouth hard into her breast.

She jumped when I slid my hand between her legs to feel the wetness there. She was quite aroused, and I easily slid my finger gently between her cunt lips. She arched her back and moaned the moment I touched her clit. It was pleasingly prominent for such a small woman.

Kneeling beside her, I ran my tongue from her breasts, down the center of her belly to her navel, and began making my way towards her pussy.

"Stop! You can't! It's not right!"

I realized that no man had ever gone down on her before.

"Trust me. If you don't like it, I'll stop."

I pulled a pillow under her hips, massaged her thighs and then started licking my way towards her pussy. Her pubic hair was much straighter and softer than Caucasian women's, delightfully so. My tongue found the slit between her cunt lips, her tangy moistness. I slid my lands under her butt to pull her close, and then let my tongue find her clit.

It's hard to know which of us was more surprised for the next few minutes, me with the pleasure of playing with her beautiful clit or her with a new sexual experience. Almost immediately, she started grinding her hips into my face. I could hear her breathing get faster, and more shallow, and she had her first orgasm, gushing juices from her pussy into my mouth. I eased up for a moment, just long enough to let her breathing settle, and started sucking on her clit again. Almost immediately, she started pounding the bed, writhing, almost screaming until she exploded with a second orgasm. And then a third.

My cock was as hard as it's ever been. I'm generous sized but not huge—maybe seven inches fully erect—but when I switched on the light to find and put on the condom, she looked and her eyes got really wide. All of her previous lovers had been Asian men, small by comparison. I rolled the condom on, pulled her to edge of the bed, put the pillow back under her hips and pulled her legs over my shoulders. The head of my cock touched her cunt lips.

"Please, slowly, it's big."

I slid the head of my cock inside. It was pleasantly tight and very hot. I looked at her—we had left the light on—and she nodded. With each stroke, I advanced a little more. With each stroke, her eyes got a little glassier. Finally I buried my cock into her all the way. She gasped and gurgled as she came up to meet my thrust. I felt her clamp down on me as she had another orgasm. Her eyes rolled up, and her brown skin flushed into crimson patches as her entire body shook.

I eased up again—as much for my pleasure as for hers, it was wonderful just watching her climax—before I started thrusting again. It didn't take long—maybe five or six minutes—before she had one more orgasm. Feeling her squeeze around me and watching her shake did it for me, and I exploded, balls contracting, feeling each jet of sperm hotly spreading over my sheathed cock.

I pulled out, careful not to leak any of my cum. We lay there, silent, covered in sweat, breathing hard. After about ten minutes, I got up to flush the condom down the toilet and clean up. I brought her a cool washcloth, which she gratefully applied to her pussy. Then she got up to pee.

"That was fun," I said.

She glared at me.

"You're great in bed," I said.

She glared some more.

"Do you want me to leave?"

She shook her head, and motioned for me to get back into the bed with her. She spooned up to me, her back against my chest. I reached across her, flicked off the light, and within minutes we were both asleep.

***

I awoke to the darkness and her warmth. Thirsty from the altitude and the sex, I did my best to disentangle our limbs without disturbing her slumber. I padded over to the bathroom, closed the door, and ran some cold water.

I darkened the bathroom before opening the door, only to see the nightstand light on, Sylvia propped up on an elbow.

"Would you bring me some too?"

I refilled the glass and sat on the side of the bed next to her, stroking her shoulder as she drank it greedily.

"No one can ever know," she said.

"No one will ever know," I repeated. "I keep my promises. Do you want me to go?"

"I want to feel you again. Inside me."

This time it was she who pulled us together, face to face, hips to hips, her hands through my hair, down my back, stroking my hardening cock.

"I'm a little dry," she said, motioning me towards her pussy.

"Happy to help," I grinned. She wasn't dry at all. She just wanted my tongue back on her clit, and I was more than happy to oblige. It was gentler this time, she was a little sore.

She reached for the condom, tore open the pack and rolled it on to me. Then she knelt on the bed, raised her butt in the air and simply said, "Please. Now."

I stood by the side of the bed and pulled her hips and pussy onto my cock. She was so light that it was easy to pull her towards me with each thrust. Soon she was down on one shoulder, her hand reaching down to keep her cunt lips spread wide, reaching back to stroke my balls. I could feel her orgasm build and held her close as it washed over both of us, her pussy squeezing rhythmically as she shuddered and rolled over on her side.

We kissed lightly for a few minutes. I hadn't come and was still hard. She motioned for me to roll onto my back, whereupon she straddled me and impaled her pussy onto my cock.

What happened next was more dance than sex. It was as if her pelvis was completely separate from the rest of her body. Her head and breasts were almost immobile, while her hips and cunt did things to my cock that I had never felt before...or since. Twice she brought me to the edge. Twice she reached back tugged on my balls to stop me from cumming. Yet not once did she break our gaze.

I could see the sex flush rising up her belly, reddening her breasts, warming her face. Her breathing became coarse, ragged. We were both close.

Once more I pulled her onto me , found her lips and kissed her hard just as we both started to orgasm. Twice denied, I came very hard and she did as well, panting in the thin mountain air. She finally took a deep breath and exhaled. She motioned toward the window, where the dawn was starting.

"It is time," she said. "You must go now."

"Thank you for a lovely evening," I said.

"Please keep your promise."

"I will."

I flushed the condom, pulled on my clothes, and looked into the corridor. It was thankfully empty. I went to my room and collapsed onto the bed. I woke up 20 minutes before the start of the morning lecture, hustled through a shower, and made it to the Institute with two minutes to spare. The first speaker was from my University, so it was just as well that I was there. He gave a great talk, much more engaging than Sylvia's, and would later recruit a postdoctoral fellow from among the students who heard him that day.

The afternoon trip was a whitewater adventure down the Middle Roaring Fork River. The bracing water kept me and the other seven students in the raft wide awake, and kept them from seeing my grin. Still, I was anxious to get back to the hotel. When I got to my room, the little red "message waiting" light was on the old rotary phone. I called the operator, who told me there was an envelope waiting for me at the front desk. I went downstairs and retrieved it.

The envelope was plain hotel stationery. The note was short, simple and final. By the time I read this note, she would be back at her lab on the west coast. She wished me well for my future. The signature was a simple letter S. No name, address or phone number. It was over as quickly as it had begun the previous day.

***

Fall, 2012

The academic year was in full swing, and I was traveling to a University in the southwestern part of the country as the 'distinguished visiting professor' to give a lecture. This ritual of professorial life is more than a pleasant honorific. It's an opportunity to meet, exchange ideas and perhaps inspire a student or two. They take time, but I have always regarded it as part of the payback for my own training. Part of the ritual is the night-before-the-lecture-dinner at a local restaurant with the host and a handful of young faculty who are eager to hear about career paths, jobs and experiences. We visitors trot out some stories about what we did right, what didn't work, and generally give hope to this next generation. It's always a pleasant conversation.




Sylvia



An assistant professor was assigned to drive me home. Her name was Cecilia, and she had been quiet, even reserved through the dinner, so I was surprised when she asked if we could have a drink in the hotel. She had something important that she wanted to talk to me about. Curious—make that mystified—I agreed.

She parked the car and we met in the hotel bar. She asked a little about my research—out of politeness, since she clearly had read some of my recent papers—and then asked about my family. She smiled when I told her of my wife Terri's career in lab medicine, and of our daughter's journey through college.

She smiled and asked if the name "Sylvia C___" was familiar to me. I nodded, and waited.

"She died two years ago. Metastatic ovarian cancer. She was my mom."

Cecilia continued her story. Sylvia had married a businessman in 1980. Together they raised Cecilia and a son, Philip. In 2002, Sylvia's husband died in his sleep from a ruptured brain aneurysm. Sylvia had been alone since his death, and mother and daughter became much closer.

"You're different than I imagined you," Cecilia said.

I looked at her, wondering how much she knew.

Anticipating my question Cecilia continued, "She kept her promise and said nothing. Not a word as long as she lived. Occasionally, she would read a professional paper of yours. In fact, she passed one along to me that you had written for Nature. She thought it extraordinarily clear and insightful. She always prized good writing and good speaking. But I never understood why she your papers, even though they were not in her field."

I smiled inwardly, remembering that summer day.

"And...?"

"After she died, the task of cleaning her apartment fell to me. She was a diarist."

I hadn't known that.

"You read her diaries."

"All nineteen volumes of them. Including the summer of 1975."

"Aspen. The meeting."

"Yes."

We sat in silence, sipping our drinks.

"She always regretted leaving that meeting. You filled five pages of diary. I think she wrote nonstop on the flight home."

Cecilia paused. "She followed your career closely. Professionally."

She continued.

"She wrote that it was the most wonderful sex she'd ever had. From the moment you were in her room together. Pure eros. Pure happiness. She never wrote that again. Not once in the next 16 volumes of her diary. But periodically she would mention you. I think she replayed that night in her mind many times."

Cecilia finished her drink and rose to leave.

"So I bring thanks from both of us. Thanks from me that you kept your promise, and she lived her life, and I was born. And thanks from my mom, 37 years late, for what was a very special night in her life."

I watched her disappear from the bar, and signaled the bartender that I wanted one more before turning in.



Sylvia and Holly



Every city has its own night-sounds, but last night Portland's seemed to be particularly obnoxious. Sylvia had lay awake half the night listening to sirens, horns, car tires spinning on the rain-slick streets and the glaring cacophony of garbage-trucks until she finally gave up trying to sleep. For a 4-Star hotel, the noise was as loud as she had ever experienced in all her business travels.

Finally, around 6 a.m. she crawled out of the huge king bed and started her in-room coffee maker. She parted the heavy curtains and looked out the window at the dark, wet street below and shuddered. At least the coffee was gourmet she thought as she crawled back into bed and listened to the comforting gurgle of the pot.

The aroma of fresh-brewed coffee did little to improve her mood. She lay back and reviewed her plans for the day and knew it was going to be bleak. Being forced to fly to Portland for a 2 hour meeting that should have been handled with a conference call was not her idea of a fun way to spend a dreary winter day. And to lock horns with a major customer when she knew she wasn't ready to negotiate from the position of strength that she liked hadn't helped matters.

This wasn't her boss' first time to screw up her life with his prehistoric belief that face-to-face contacts were necessary to make business decisions, and unfortunately she was well aware that it wouldn't be his last. At least he was extremely generous with her expense account so she could look forward to first-class meals and an extra day or two to play on her own while she was here, regardless of how the meeting went. The only saving grace of the trip was that Portland had great restaurants, galleries and a charming trolley to take her to Powell's Books where she could spend hours.

As she drank her coffee she let her mind drift back to the last time she was in Portland. She had gone to the Pearl District where her best buddy Rae had given her a birthday gift card for a special massage. It had turned out to be so special it had became one of the most erotic experiences of her life. She closed her eyes and let her mind drift back to that day and to Jack the handsome masseur. Hmmm, the incredible way his hands had worked wonders on her body was beyond belief. He had brought her to an orgasm as powerful as she had ever experienced, and one she still fantasized about regularly.

Sylvia put down her coffee cup and snuggled back under the soft duvet, her hands sensuously seeking out her naked breasts. She was not surprised to find her nipples hard and sensitive just from reminiscing about Jack and she felt herself becoming turned on. She slipped one of her hands lower, her legs opening automatically to invite her fingers into the deep warmth between them. She arched her back sensuously, causing her cunt to rise up to welcome her probing fingers.

Her chest jerked as her breath sucked air deep into her chest. It was always the same. Whenever her fingers made their first contact with the hood over her clitoris her body responded with a shudder, her breathing involuntarily becoming ragged and expectant. She gently spread her waiting lips, allowing her middle finger to tentatively probe between, pleased to find herself already slick with morning dew. She closed her eyes, smiling to herself as her finger slowly brought the warm moisture up to bathe her waiting clit.

Umm—the perfect way to start a morning, especially on a day that only a few minutes earlier had seemed so bleak. Sylvia rolled her nipple more intensely, keeping perfect time with the finger that was now circling around and around her happy clit. She felt the welcome glow of an orgasm building deep in her secret pleasure cavern, her body only waiting for a two or three fingers to slip inside and draw it out. Her breath quickened and her movements became more demanding as she felt herself give in to such a delicious invitation . . .

R-I-N-G!

The air was shattered by a loud, jarring noise next to the bed. She reached franticly for the telephone; her eyes wide open with shock.

A voice dripping with fake sunshine chirped into her ear. "Good Morning! This is your wake-up call."

Sylvia slammed the phone down without reply and fell back onto the pillows, her heart pounding in her chest. She lay for a few minutes until her breathing retuned to normal then tentatively touched herself again, remembering how close she had been to cumming. Her body did not respond, the mood totally broken.

"Shit!" she muttered, "I guess I might as well get into the shower and move on."

*

The meeting went much as she expected, short and unproductive. By 11 a.m. she was walking back through the drizzle toward her hotel, her mood fitting right in with the gray, overcast day. No resolution had been achieved, although her client had asked to meet again the next day, claiming he needed more time for discussion with his board. She had agreed even though she felt he was just jacking her around. She could usually tell where she stood in negotiations but with this guy she didn't feel totally confident that she could close the deal. However she knew that if he came back with a proposal she could work with she had the authority to commit her company to the best deal she could salvage. Her boss had long ago come to trust her judgment and would back her up to the hilt.

Suddenly she realized she was starved, having skipped breakfast after her jarring morning wake-up call. The drizzle had turned to a constant rain and she had forgotten her umbrella so she popped into a posh restaurant, deciding to have a quick lunch. On a whim she ordered a martini while she waited for her food to arrive although normally she would never drink alcohol while she was working. After calling to cancel her airline reservation and extend her hotel room for another day, she sat facing a long, wet afternoon with nothing planned.

Finishing her lunch and feeling somewhat better about the prospects of spending a dreary afternoon in Portland, she sat back and relaxed and ordered another martini, wondering what she should do with her unexpected free time. Her mind flashed back to the massage she'd received on her last visit and she impulsively decided a repeat of that treat would be just what she needed, especially after the interrupted pleasure of the morning.

Quickly scrolling through her cell phone directory she located the number of the spa and dialed, hoping against hope that they'd be able to fit her in that afternoon or evening. The receptionist answered on the second ring, her voice bubbling with friendly, youthful exuberance, asking how she could be of help. Sylvia apologetically explained that she was only in town for the day and wanted to see if she could possibly make an appointment with Jack for his Rose City Bliss massage package on such short notice.

The receptionist's voice suddenly turned icy. "One minute, please," she muttered before putting Sylvia on hold.

Sylvia was surprised and somewhat shocked by the sudden change she heard in her demeanor. She waited, listening to the canned music and wondered what she had said wrong. Surely, people asking for short notice appointments couldn't be all that rare she thought.

Suddenly a cold, professional voice came on the line. "I'm sorry, Madame. Jack is no longer employed at this spa."

Sylvia thought for a moment and then asked, "Well, could you tell me where he's working now?"

The woman hesitated, then stated bluntly. "We don't know where he is employed and I must say I wouldn't tell you if I did. He was discharged under rather unsavory circumstances and we no longer wish to be associated with his kind. Good day, Madame."

The click in Sylvia's ear left no doubt that the woman had slammed the telephone into its cradle with obvious distaste.

"Wow," Sylvia thought. "Jack must have rubbed someone wrong." She smiled to herself. "Or . . . perhaps rubbed a wrong someone, right."

She signaled her waitress and ordered another martini, wondering what she was going to do now. "Damn," she thought. "I was really in the mood to see him." She felt keyed up, recognizing the adrenaline rush she always got when she was close to finalizing a deal. She really needed to unwind, to relax and clear her mind for the negotiation of the next day.

Suddenly, she remembered the dyke who worked with Jack at the spa. "Didn't she say she was studying to be a masseuse?" she thought. "She gave me her business card, saying she'd love to 'practice' on me. I wonder if I put her card in my Rolodex. Now, what the hell was her name?"

Sylvia had always been very organized. She was sure that if she'd saved the card her secretary would have automatically entered it into her phone directory, but what was her name? She could visualize her perfectly. She had been a cute little blond with a hard, well-muscled figure and slightly mannish features. And it was obvious she was smitten by Sylvia—she hadn't been able to keep her eyes off her and she had practically begged for a chance to get together in the future. 

"Well, perhaps the future is now," Sylvia thought. "All I have to do is remember her name." She pulled out her telephone and started scrolling through the directory, starting at "A". She had hundreds of contacts stored, many of them people she hadn't thought about for years, and many more she had no idea who they were or why they were in her directory. She methodically worked her way down the alphabet until she came to an entry for a Holly Hansen. "Holly . . . that must be it," she thought. The area code was right, 503—Portland!

Sylvia quickly dialed the number, drumming her fingers on the table with impatience. It rang for what seemed forever and she was just about to hang up when an answering machine kicked on, Holly's timid little voice asking for her to leave a message. 

"Shit," Sylvia muttered to herself as she hung up.

Whenever she made business calls she usually had a spiel rehearsed in case no one answered. She always wanted to sound professional and poised but in her excitement of calling Holly she had neglected to think of the possibility that she might get a voice mailbox. She deciding to finish her martini and think about what she wanted to say and how to say it, remembering the doe-eyed looks Holly gave her and the pleading way she said she hoped they could meet again sometime.

Sylvia thought to herself, "This little sub is just the kind of woman I need to get me in good form to take on that asshole when we meet tomorrow." She picked up her phone and dialed Holly's number again.

This time, when the recording came on she spoke clearly and confidently. "Hello, Holly. My name is Sylvia and we met at the Rain City Spa a few months ago. You took care of me when I had an appointment with a masseur named Jack. I'm sure you remember that Jack gave me one of his very special treatments, and I think you know exactly what I mean by special. Afterward, you gave me your card and said you'd like to practice your massage technique on me the next time I came to town."

Sylvia took the last swallow of her martini, enjoying its satisfying bite on the back of her tongue.

"Well, Holly, I'm back. And I'm really curious to find out how well your massage technique compares to Jacks." 

She hesitated a moment to let the meaning of her words sink in, then continued very slowly and deliberately.

"I'm here just for tonight, so it's now or never. I'm staying at the Rose Hotel up on Broadway. I'm in room 505 and I want you to meet me there at 7 this evening." Sylvia grinned at how butch she sounded, even to herself. "I hope you can clear your schedule for me."

She paused for a moment then continued, her voice very low and deliberate. "Don't be late, Holly."

Sylvia hung up the phone, pleased with her commanding performance. She had absolutely no doubt that Holly loved having a strong woman tell her what to do and that she was powerless to defy one that made her decisions for her.

*

The knock was so soft Sylvia hardly heard it over the music coming from the little clock radio next to her bed. She glanced at the digital numerals, pleased to see them blinking 7:03. . She waited a moment until Holly knocked again, this time slightly louder and more insistent. She took a sip from the glass of chilled chardonnay she'd been drinking before walking to the door. Grinning to herself she mentally congratulated herself. "Boy, did I have this little Chica pegged right."

Sylvia opened the door and stood back as Holly struggled to carry her portable massage table into the room. She was wearing a light jacket that shone from the heavy rain she'd walked through, her wet hair glistening in the soft light.

"You're late." Sylvia's voice was not accusatory, just coolly matter-of-fact. 

"I'm sorry," Holly stammered. "The traffic was bad and I had a hard time finding a place to park. I had to walk the last 3 blocks." She looked embarrassed and flustered as well as soaking wet.

"Set your table up over there," Sylvia said as she pointed to the tiny 'living area' of her suite. "I'll get you a towel to dry your stuff off." She went into the bathroom and returned with a large towel. "Better dry yourself off, too," she added. "I wouldn't want you to catch cold."

Sylvia sat back in the overstuffed chair and watched as Holly took off her jacket and began to unfold and set up the table. She worked silently, avoiding any eye-contact. She methodically wiped down the table, setting the sheets, pillowcase, packet of oils and towels that had efficiently been tucked inside onto the coffee table next to her before using the towel to dab at her wet hair. She was wearing very tight skinny-jeans with a thin tank top and her short-cropped hair made her look even more like a dyke than she had at the spa.

"Pour yourself a glass of wine," Sylvia said. "You look like you could use it." She rose and headed toward the other room. "Make yourself comfortable while I get undressed." She stopped at the bathroom door and glanced back. She waited until Holly looked up to meet her gaze then slowly and deliberately looked her over from head to foot, then back up again. She didn't say anything, she just stared until Holly began to blush and squirm uncomfortably.

"I really like the jeans, Holly," she said as she stepped through the door. "But lose the sports bra by the time I come back." Her voice was cold and uncompromising. "I detest sports bras." She turned abruptly and closed the door firmly behind her.

Sylvia peeled off her clothes, pleased with setting such a harsh tone with Holly. She knew without thinking that Holly would do exactly as ordered. If ever there was a woman needing a strong hand, Holly was that woman. And Sylvia had felt an instant rush from dominating her.

She looked at herself in the mirror, carefully apprising the firm, sensual reflection staring back at her. She looked good naked and she knew it and she almost hated to wrap the towel around her before opening the door. She was amused to see Holly guiltily jump up from the chair where she had been sitting and quickly set her glass of wine on the table. She stood nervously as Sylvia walked into the room, taking her time to turn the lights down and the radio up before stopping directly in front of her.

Sylvia almost laughed out loud when she saw how quickly Holly started to blush when she stared directly at her shirt. It was instantly obvious that Holly had indeed removed her bra.

"Thanks," Sylvia said, nodding and smiling at the protruding nipples pouting saucily back at her. She dropped her voice to a soft whisper. "That's much better. You've got a very sexy little figure; it's a shame to not let people enjoy it."

Sylvia slowly un-tucked her towel as she walked toward the table. She hesitated, letting it fall away from her back but holding it demurely to cover her front for a moment before letting it slide casually down to drop in a heap on top of Holly's jacket. She turned and stood naked for a moment to let Holly's eyes roam hungrily over her body, then climbed onto the table.

"Shall we get started?"

*

Holly replayed the message on her answering phone over and over.

Each time she heard Sylvia's stern voice and commanding instructions, she became more intrigued. She clearly remembered Sylvia as being about the sexiest woman she'd ever seen at the spa and how turned-on she had become just by looking at her. She hadn't been able to keep her eyes to herself—so much so that at first she'd been afraid she might have given offence. However, when the treatment was over and she returned to escort Sylvia back to the dressing room, the satisfied look on Sylvia's face made it obvious more than a plain massage had transpired and she seemed happy to share her erotic high. Jack had confessed to Holly that some of his repeat clients came to him sexual relief, and since he enjoyed providing it he had developed quite a profitable following.

She could hardly believe Sylvia was finally calling her. For several months after that day she had fantasized that the call would come, but she gradually accepted it was unlikely to happen. Now suddenly she had reappeared and Holly felt herself grow excited with the possibilities implied in the message.

From the first hearing there was never any doubt in her mind that she would 'clear her schedule' to accommodate Sylvia. There wasn't much to clear, she ruefully reminded herself, her evenings were usually spent alone watching TV. She lived alone except for Lady, her long-haired Dachshund and never had evening clients, so all she had to do was take a quick shower, change and she could be on her way.

The decision of what to wear took longer than her shower. She usually wore old faded jeans and a non-descript blouse when she had massage clients, but she knew she wanted to make a good impression with Sylvia. She finally decided to wear her new hip hugger skinny-jeans, even though she wasn't very comfortable in them. The salesgirl who was selling them had convinced her they looked really hot and showed off her trim ass to its best advantage. Holly wasn't comfortable in something so stylish and wasn't in the habit of showing off her figure, always preferring old loose, mannish-looking clothes that were more practical. That afternoon, however, she had succumbed to the salesgirl's pitch and bought them, more flattered by her flirting than by the clothes. She'd never worn them since that day, but impulsively decided tonight was a perfect opportunity to step outside her usual comfort zone.

Ignoring Lady's disapproving gaze, she stepped into a tiny black thong and pulled the tight jeans over her hips, struggling to get them fastened. She put on a white blouse and checked her reflection in the mirror, disappointed to realize that while she looked professional, her image was decidedly unexciting. Impulsively stripping off the blouse she burrowed through her closet and finally chose a white tank top edged with pale yellow lace, one that was much more feminine than she usually wore. Slipping it over her head she returned to the mirror and instantly saw that she appeared softer, more feminine than usual. Still not happy with her image, she was about to try another outfit when she noticed the time and realized she had to get on the road immediately if she was going to be on time. The idea of being late for Sylvia was not one that held any interest to her.

Naturally, everything went wrong on the way to the hotel. Traffic was bad, the rain had started again and there was no street parking to be found anywhere near the hotel. Growing more frustrated as the time grew shorter, Holly pulled into a parking lot and struggled getting the folding massage table out of the trunk of her car. While she was feeding dollar bills into the box it started raining even harder, quickly ruining her hair and dampening her spirits. By the time she lugged the table the 3 blocks to the hotel she was soaked and ready to bite the head off the doorman if he said anything to her.




Sylvia and Holly



Fortunately, he had been friendly and welcoming, even helping her put the table in the elevator and punching the 5th floor button for her. She hurried down the hall to room 505 and knocked lightly, trying to regain her normal breathing as she waited for the door to open. Brushing the wet hair from her face she nervously knocked again, her sense of anticipation building to a fever pitch.

When the door opened she stepped into the small living area of the suite, noticing immediately that Sylvia seemed even more attractive than she remembered. She felt clumsy and awkward as she set her table up and embarrassed when Sylvia coolly noted that she was late. She was acutely aware of being watched while she worked and could feel Sylvia's eyes roving over her body, especially when she removed her jacket and stood patting her hair dry. But at least she smiled when she offered her the towel to do it.

Holly was grateful when Sylvia offered her wine, just what she needed for her nerves. She poured herself a glass and sipped it greedily as she watched Sylvia walk toward the bathroom, starting to relax for the first time all afternoon. This might turn out to be really fun, she thought to herself.

"I really like the jeans, Holly," she heard Sylvia say.

Holly smiled, pleased that she had decided to wear them. She felt flattered and started to thank her when she heard Sylvia continue.

". . . but lose the sports bra by the time I come back."

Holly's mouth dropped open. She couldn't believe what she just heard—surely she had not understood correctly. She looked at Sylvia questioningly,

Sylvia's voice was so low Holly could barely hear it, but it carried a message of cold finality that left no question as to her message. "I detest sports bras," she said. She turned and stepped into the bathroom and closed the door firmly behind her without looking back.

Holly stood unmoving, shocked and surprised by what she had just heard. She couldn't believe Sylvia would say something so personal, to be so demanding. There was no way she was going to allow her to tell her what to do. She had never resorted to using her sex appeal in her massage business, even though some of the other women in her class joked about it all the time and Jack had encouraged her to try it. Lots of guys hinted that they wanted topless massages or 'the full-deal' when they got on the table, but she had never considered doing it.

And now, here was a woman treating her in a less than professional manner. She took a gulp of her wine and tried to decide what to do. She could pack up and leave or just ignore the demand and carry on as though she hadn't heard her. She hastily finished her glass and poured more into it as she struggled with her instincts. What would it hurt, she thought to herself, if she did take it off. She'd still be fully dressed . . . and it wasn't like anyone else would ever know. She swallowed half of the remaining wine and realized that the idea had her somewhat turned on.

She knew she had really nice breasts. She had never enjoyed flaunting them like other girls she knew, but she was confident they compared well with all that she'd seen. And even if they weren't as big as she might have liked they were firm and nicely shaped, perky and quite sensitive. So . . . if Sylvia wanted to see her bounce a little while she gave her massage, where was the harm?

Besides, the customer is always right—right? she grinned to herself.

She took a deep breath and peeled off her shirt, keeping her back to the bathroom door just in case. She pulled the stretchy bra over her head and stuffed it in her jacket pocket and slipped her tank top back on, glancing down at herself to check for any see-through. She was surprised at how hard her nipples were and how clearly they stood out under the thin material. She rubbed them with the palms of her hands to warm and soften them, to make them less prominent. But the pesky little devils seemed to have a mind of their own and puffed up again, seeming to want even more attention.

The bathroom door opened and Sylvia came back into the room wrapped in a large bath towel. Holly jumped up embarrassedly and watched her as she casually turned down the lights and fiddled with the radio before walking nearer. She felt her cheeks flush hotly as Sylvia stood directly in front of her, deliberately studying her breasts. Finally looking satisfied with what she saw, she smiled and moved toward the table.

Holly hardly heard the complimentary words Sylvia said about her breasts, too distracted by watching her casually drop her towel. The only thing she heard her say was, "Shall we get started?"

*

Sylvia felt energized, happy at how things were going. Watching Holly's eyes travel hungrily over her nakedness reaffirmed her previous assumption. Holly's unconscious need to be subjugated was becoming more and more obvious, and Sylvia was sure it was a need she probably wasn't even aware of.

The feeling of power and control continued to grow in Sylvia, a feeling of dominance that was making her wet with anticipation. Topping women was a totally different rush from ordering men around. She was used to letting men take charge, or at least think they were in charge, and rarely felt the urge or the need to switch. But watching Holly tremble before her was such an incredible turn-on it felt like a perfectly natural role for her.

Holly watched as Sylvia climbed onto the table and lay face-down, hanging her arms over the sides and snuggling her body against the starched sheet covering its firm surface. She arched her back and took a deep breath, letting out a deep, contented sigh when she found a comfortable position. Holly reached for her bottle of lightly perfumed oil and poured a liberal amount into her palms, her eyes never leaving Sylvia's taut body. As she vigorously rubbed her hands to warm the oil she shook her head in wonder, still amazed at how casual Sylvia was with her nakedness.

All the women Holly had previously massaged maintained a certain level of modesty, even if they seemed totally self-confident and proud of their figures. She always draped them with a towel or sheet to maintain a professional comfort level while she worked, just as she'd been taught in her classes. Even though both she and her clients were aware that personal parts were occasionally exposed as the massage progressed, there was never any overt sexuality involved.

But she had never met a woman who seemed to enjoy flaunting her body quite like Sylvia. Holly was acutely aware of the strong aura of sexuality emanating from the table in front of her and she felt her body respond with a power that scared her. She had always enjoyed looking at women's bodies and had often fantasized about being more intimate with them. She was aware that part of the reason she had gravitated to the massage profession was the allure of regularly touching soft, feminine flesh, and she often found herself fantasizing about some of her clients. Doing more than her therapeutic routine, however, had never become a reality.

Holly began by spreading the warmed oil over Sylvia's neck, shoulders and upper back, touching her lightly with long, soft strokes. She felt her hands trembling slightly and pressed harder to hide her nervousness. She cleared her throat and began to recite her usual litany, asking if she should concentrate on specific muscles or injuries, do deep tissue work or if there were any sensitive or painful areas she should avoid. When Sylvia failed to respond to her inquiries, she continued stroking her way down her spine, gradually increasing pressure and gently manipulating each knot that her fingers found. She stopped talking as she worked, the mellow jazz from the radio the only sound in the room.

"Okay," she thought to herself, "I'll just do the general relaxation routine since she's not telling me what to do. Lots of clients prefer total silence during their session and I guess she's one of them."

Sylvia concentrated on Holly's hands working their way down her body, feeling disappointed by how impersonal they felt. In spite of the intimacy of the setting, this was definitely not what she had in mind. She waited without saying anything until it became obvious that Holly was going to work her way down to her legs without even touching her ass before she said anything.

"Uh, didn't you forget something, Holly?"

Holly's hands stopped in mid-stroke, totally bewildered by Sylvia's question.

"You skipped right past my ass, Sweetie." Sylvia grinned to herself when she heard Holly's quick intake of breath. "I have very sensitive buttocks and I like them worked nice and firmly . . . if you don't mind." Her voice left little doubt that she expected Holly to do exactly what she wanted, and to do it with feeling.

"My god," Holly thought. "She wants a massage like Jack must have given. No wonder he became so popular with his clients."

Her hands went tentatively to Sylvia's buttocks and she began caressing them. She didn't know exactly what was expected so she just started with light strokes, spreading the slippery oil liberally over their taut surface. But as she heard Sylvia softly purring she let her fingers begin to knead slightly harder with each stroke

"Harder," Sylvia whispered. "I like it really hard."

Holly squeezed even harder, her fingers alternating from one buttock to the other and inadvertently slipping deeper into the crease of Sylvia's ass as she did so. She watched Sylvia's body rock back and forth against the hard surface of the table and knew it must have been causing pressure against her cunt. She continued her manipulation, deliberately pressing down harder to increase the pressure and growing more excited as she listened to Sylvia's breath become ragged and expectant. Holly's fingers started to cramp up from her exertion and as she started to back off pressure she suddenly realized she was no longer concentrating on Sylvia's enjoyment, she was doing it for her own.

In all the months she'd been giving massages she had ever touched a woman in a way so overtly sexual. And as sexy as some of her clients had been she had definitely never felt as turned-on as she was feeling right now. Her fingers now cramping so badly she could no longer continue the same pressure, she trailed her fingernails down the back of Sylvia's thighs, leaving bright red trails all the way to her knees.

Sylvia let out a squeal as she involuntarily arched her pelvis in the air, pleasantly shocked by the radically different sensation burning into her skin. "Wow," she thought. "Little Holly knows a few moves after all." She could feel her legs tingling as Holly continued working her way down to Sylvia's feet, oiling her toes and sensually pulling them, one by one, as though she was manipulating 10 miniature penises. Sylvia had never had a 'toe-job' before and was surprised at how erotic it felt.

"Time to push the envelope," she thought to herself. She had noticed Holly's breathing become more ragged while she was caressing Sylvia's ass, and it was obvious she had become turned-on by doing it. Sylvia slowly spread her knees and started to roll over on the rickety table, fully aware of the view she was presenting to Holly standing near her feet.

"Let's do my front now, okay?" she said softly.

She reached out and took Holly's hand, letting her help steady her movements as she shifted onto her back. She wiggled into a comfortable position, stretching her arms over her head and sighing deeply before closing her eyes and smiling contentedly. Holly retrieved the towel from where it lay on the chair and spread it over Sylvia, covering her from chest to knees.

Without opening her eyes Sylvia softly whispered, "We don't really need the towel, Holly."

Holly hesitated, not quite knowing what she should do.

"In fact, I want you to take it off." She opened her eyes and looked directly at Holly. "I like the way you look at me." She smiled, playfully enjoying Holly's look of discomfort.

"And I know you like it, too."

Holly slowly pulled the towel toward her, blushing profusely as she awkwardly folded it and dropped it behind her. She stepped back and tried, but she just couldn't stop herself from staring. She stood transfixed, knowing she should restart the massage again before things got any more out of hand but she felt immobilized, unable to take her eyes off Sylvia's pert breasts and smooth, freshly waxed pussy.

"Do I embarrass you, Holly?" Sylvia purred.

"Uh, no," Holly stammered, unable to say anything more. She swallowed dryly a couple of times. "Uh, no . . . well, yes . . . Oh shit, I don't know."

Sylvia slowly reached her hand out and playfully hooked her finger into the waistband of Holly's snug jeans. Finding no resistance, she pulled her closer until she bumped into the table and stood looking directly down at Sylvia, her hands resting nervously at her side.

"Touch me like this," Sylvia whispered. She slipped her hand under Holly's shirt and brushed her fingers lightly over her stomach, playfully raking her fingernails against the taut skin before sliding slowly upward. When she reached the underside of Holly's naked breast she spread her fingers and cupped it firmly, squeezing and lifting it as if weighing in her mind the pleasure it was about to provide.

Holly closed her eyes, the pleasure she felt from Sylvia's fingers overtaking the pleasure she had from looking down at the sexy, naked body writhing below her. Unconsciously, she reached for Sylvia's breasts, using her nails to rake the already hard, pouty nipples upward with the same rough handling she was feeling on her own.

"Harder," Sylvia gasped. "Like this."

Holly winched as she felt Sylvia's fingers increase their pressure under her shirt, pinching and twisting and pulling until she reached that delicious and confusing point between pleasure and pain. She responded by squeezing Sylvia's nipples harder, almost brutally; harder than she had ever handled a woman's body before. Sylvia moaned with such obvious pleasure Holly could not restrain herself and leaned down, quickly sucking one hard nipple into her mouth and biting down as she continued to torment the other with her fingers.

"Oh yes," Sylvia moaned. "Bite me, suck me. Oh God, I love it!"

All pretense of a professional massage now forgotten, Holly greedily kissed and licked and sucked the pliant breasts beneath her hungry mouth and fingers, searching more for her own pleasure than Sylvia's as she worshiped the body she had desired for so long. As her excitement grew she felt her hand snake its way down Sylvia's quivering stomach, searching as if on its own volition for the ultimate prize it knew lay just below. Sylvia's legs fell open invitingly as Holly's fingers slid down the Brazilian-smooth entryway to the cavern of pleasure awaiting her.

"Wait!"

Sylvia suddenly sat up, swinging her legs off the table. She stood quickly and reached for Holly's shirt, pulling it roughly upward. Holly automatically lifted her arms and allowed it to slide over her head, leaving her naked above the waist, her breasts only inches from Sylvia's face. Sylvia planted a quick, wet kiss on both puckered nipples staring so invitingly in front of her before reluctantly turning away. She hurried to the bed and frantically began pulling on the blankets, stripping the bedding down and throwing it to the floor. She flopped herself in the middle of the mattress and held her arms out to Holly.

"Get out of those pants and move your ass over here," she commanded, patting the mattress beside her. "I want you naked."

Holly obediently started to wiggle the tight jeans down her hips, her tiny black thong sliding half-way down her legs and tripping her as she hobbled toward the bed. In an awkward, almost comical struggle to get them off she fell onto the sheet, landing at Sylvia's feet. Sylvia lurched forward and grabbed for the panties, jerking down and ripping the lacy material in her rush to get her naked. She threw the destroyed panties on the floor and pulled her upward, pleased at how quickly Holly crawled into her embrace, her lips hungrily searched for Sylvia's mouth. Sylvia lay back, amazed by Holly's ardor as she forced her tongue franticly between Sylvia's lips and plunged it deep into her mouth. Her hunger was raw and insistent, her arousal nearly out of control as she kissed and probed with her tongue, her breath hard and hot against Sylvia's face.

Holly climbed onto Sylvia, grinding the full length of their nakedness against each other as she continued to kiss and suck and lick her face. Her hand reached for Sylvia's breast squashed under her own, her fingers kneading it roughly as she lifted herself upward to rug their nipples together. Her frantic need became even more evident as she let her lips search out Sylvia's nipple again, a hungry moan coming from deep in her throat.

"Do it, Holly," Sylvia whispered. "We both know why you're here."

Sylvia continued to hold and caress her for moment, her fingers trailing lightly back and forth from her waist to her neck. She felt Holly hesitate, changing her sucking and kissing of Sylvia's nipple to a tentative nibbling, then a harder biting, as though she was searching for what Sylvia meant.

Sylvia put her hands on Holly's head with a slight downward pressure. She leaned closer and whispered again, slightly louder this time. "You know what you really want, Baby. Just do it."

Holly raised her head slightly and looked into Sylvia's face, her lips unwilling to release the nipple locked between her lips. The pleading was unmistakable in her eyes. Yes, she knew what she wanted, but she couldn't bring herself to admit it. She needed to hear Sylvia's order.

"Eat me, Holly."

Sylvia's voice was commanding.

"Now!"

Sylvia was right. They both knew why she was there. 



Sylvia at Ninety



By the time you were thirty you were three for nine, you got better with practice. Like the still lives that lined an artist's trash you practiced your art, embracing death with similes, metaphors, arms and legs. At ten, it was accidental, later it wasn't. You used up lives at the rate of one per decade. A cat has nine, what about you?

If you painted, I wonder what color your world would be each step along the way. Did you dream in color or simply lose yourself in muted shades of gray? What fantasies did you dream of in the cloudy gray days of your dreams?

I could have been there, could have dreamed with you. Yes you were older, but that couldn't matter, my hands would forgive the wrinkles, my tongue curl around the sags, and my lips would kiss the years away. And then you'd read you poetry as I unbuttoned your blouse, and carefully reached behind you to unfasten your bra. Ah, your breasts, soft, deliciously curving, falling into my hands as I bent to take your nipples into my mouth.

You'd read of a cut, the pain and blood, but as I unfasten your pants, I'd draw the pain away as I slide my hands into your panties and run my finger down your slit. Dipping them into you pussy, I'd feel the wetness of your passion and then move the fingers back up to your clit, circling it in you own juices.

The poems would be shorter then, your rhythm more pronounced as you moved your hips back and forth, pushing your clit onto my fingers. You'd read of daddy as I pulled off your pants and panties and I'd wonder about the timing of your poem, my head tucking up between your widespread legs. You'd read another daddy poem as I push my face up to you and shove my tongue inside you, tasting you.

Grabbing the soft flesh of your ass, I'd run my tongue up and down your slit, moving from the wet opening to the tiny nub and back down again. Your taste would stay with me, earthy and slightly tangy, your fragrance filling me. I'd feel your hand on my head, drawing me to you as you drop your poems and then grind against me, moaning the moist, verse of your climax.

Then, you'd kneel as I stood. Your hands would find me, gently squeezing my hard cock before moving to my belt, opening my pants and pulling it out. I'd watch as you draw me slowly into your mouth, running your tongue over the head as you stroke my shaft with your hands. Leaning back, I'd push my hips forward, wanting you to suck me in deeper. You'd tease me with your tongue, your lips and your fingers, bringing me close and then moving to my thighs as my cock twitches, begging for your touch.

You'd pull down my pants and then stand up and unbutton my shirt, leading me over to the bed. Once on the bed I'd watch as you open your thighs, showing me your beautiful pussy. Crawling closer, I'd watch you guide me into you and I'd feel the moist, softness of the very depths of you. Thrusting into you I'd listen to you recite your poems as my cock moved in and out of you, quickly exploding in electric sensations of pleasure as my cum spilled into your pussy.

I'd fall on top of you, catching my breath, kissing you until my cock finally slipped from your body. Then, as you recite a poem of our bodies, I'd feel you drift from me, your voice becoming faint, your body slipping from beneath me, your beautiful face fading into my dream. I'd then see you outside, your hair flowing in the breeze, your thighs clamped tightly around the horse, your horse.

Ariel, Ariel, that blithe sprite of iambic fantasies, did you dream of disappearing on her fairy wings when you conjured her name or was it just a pretty name for your horse? I imagine you as you gallop, embracing Ariel as you had embraced me, and later as you embraced your art of death. You were so good at that, so practiced in the art that I was shocked when the devil lost count and took you on your fourth life. You should have lived on, if only so I could touch you, kiss you and listen to your words. 

Instead, it was three times by thirty, a decade, a life. With nine lives you should have lived to ninety and I wonder what volumes you could have filled by ninety, had you not gone silent. I wonder how we would have met and later made love. I imagine you at ninety: practiced at the art of life instead of dying, I'd watch you spread translucent wings and ride Ariel into the sun, her hoof-prints disappearing in your silence. 



Sylvia Does Sleeping Beth



When I was in college a bunch of us were invited to a friend's house for a New Years Eve party. Everyone was invited to stay over instead of drive home drunk. About half a dozen people stayed with the understanding that we would have to sleep on the thick-ply carpeted floor in the living room. We were pretty drunk and the carpet was very soft, so it was fine to stay. 

Around 3AM I woke up to go to the bathroom. The room was dark except for a small night-light in the far end. I was about to move when I heard a slight moan. Looking over I saw Sylvia hovering over a sleeping Beth. 

Sylvia and I had gone on a couple of dates and fooled around a little but that was all. She was a 20 year-old brunette with perky breasts and a nice ass. Beth, meanwhile was an average-looking 21 year-old with curly red hair and was a few pounds overweight. However, she did have a very sweet butt. 

And now while Beth lay on her stomach, there was Sylvia actually leaning over with one hand holding Beth's skirt up as she peered underneath looking at that butt!

I blinked my eyes a few times trying to focus and take in the action less than 10 feet away from me as I lay there in the dark. I couldn't believe what I was watching, but Sylvia was actually rolling Beth over onto her back. After waiting a moment, Sylvia leaned in and put her head underneath Beth's skirt as Beth lay there passed out drunk. 

I listened but at first couldn't tell what was going on. Then I realized the sound I heard was of Sylvia sniffing Beth's pussy. Sylvia was fooling around with a girl! 

Sylvia then sat back on her haunches, surveyed the room, apparently to make sure everyone else was still sleeping, and then went back to attending to unaware, sleeping Beth. She eased the skirt up and let it drop on Beth's stomach, revealing lacy panties. With one hand she eased the side of the crotch-band to the side. Even though it was kind of dark in the room I could still see that Beth had a nice full curly bush. 

While I could see it, Sylvia used her other hand to actually feel it. Lightly at first and then finally pressing her fingers down right between Beth's legs. She stared at Beth's sleeping face, gauging how much she could get away with as she squeezed and massaged that pussy.

Eventually, Sylvia was working two pussies - Beth's and her own. She was doing it very quietly, occasionally sniffing and licking her fingers from her right hand after they got saturated by Beth's wetness, thinking no one would know. At one point pulled her fingers from Beth's cunt and the fingers from her left hand which had been buried in her own. Holding both hands up, she stopped and breathed in the scent on one hand and then from the other hand -- obviously comparing. She must have liked both as she then licked the fingers from both her hands and then resumed her exploration and fondling of Beth's pussy.

Suddenly, on the other side of the room I heard Walter groan and then he got up and headed to the bathroom. I wondered if he'd seen the show but realized when he came back shortly he just needed to take a piss and was going back to sleep. 

Meanwhile, the Sylvia show had stopped. Beth's skirt was back down and Sylvia was lying down on the rug as if sleeping, probably happy she didn't get caught. 

But I knew what she had done and decided to take advantage of the opportunity. I silently slid over the rug to Sylvia, and placed my hand on her shoulder. She turned to see who it was and I put my finger to my lips and told her to be quiet. Then I told her that I'd seen what she did and now I wanted a little of her too. 

Her eyes widened in surprise and a little fear when I took one of her hands and breathed in Beth's scent. Then I dropped my hand down to Sylvia's breasts and she quickly began to enjoy it. She was still horny and her nipples were still hard from her earlier attentions to Beth, and now she was mine to play with.

We mutually played around with each other for awhile enjoying our secret, with her eventually giving me a blow job under the covers. Even as she did so, my eyes wandered over to the sleeping Beth, thinking how just a few drinks knocked her out and how I might want to see more of her and her curly bush. But that's another story...



Sylvia Does the Davenport



The rain was relentless. Sylvia sat staring out her office window, morbidly fascinated by the constant, driving intensity of the storm. She had watched it all morning, even skipping her lunch break in an unsuccessful wait for it to let up. The tiny, overworked heater straining noisily behind her had long ago given up any hope of keeping the fog off her window. Now with early evening falling, she could barely see the lights that had been on all day in the buildings across the street.

Long rivulets of condensation were running down the inside of the window. She watched as her misty reflection dissolved in a changing series of abstract designs, each twisting and flowing down the glass. She could feel each drop of water drain away her concentration, like Chinese water torture. She was aware that the beating rain was having an elemental effect on her, deep in her gut.

She felt the familiar, throbbing pressure growing and recognized it as the slow but welcome buildup of sexual tension that always accompanied a steady rain.

Her lover, Brandon, regularly took delight in teasing her about how fortunate it was they lived in the Pacific Northwest.

"Any woman who gets turned on by the rain is sure living in the right place around here," he would joke. Brandon loved her enthusiastic sexuality and was the first man she ever knew who was secure enough to encourage her to embrace it without being threatened himself.

For what seemed like the hundredth time she twisted in her chair to look at the clock. Only 3:30. She heard her secretary return from coffee break, shaking her raincoat and grumbling loudly about the weather. Sylvia's concentration was now completely frazzled and she knew any further pretense of working was ridiculous. She had been feeling hormonal all week and was dying for relief. Impulsively, she turned off the computer, took her purse out of her desk and locked the drawer.

"See you on Monday, Stella," she called into the office next to hers. "I'm outta here. If Brandon calls, tell him I blew off the afternoon and I'll catch him later at the Davenport."

Brandon had been out of town all week on business but was due back late this afternoon. Their earlier plans to meet for an after-work drink had been loose, but their Fridays were routine enough that she wasn't worried about missing him. She knew he'd either call or just show up sometime after six at their favorite bar. The old Davenport Hotel was only four blocks away and had become their regular meeting place for the three years they'd been living in Spokane.

Putting up her umbrella and facing into the driving rain, she felt somewhat like an escaping prisoner. She walked quickly down Post Street, empty except for one forlorn-looking woman standing in front of an abandoned pharmacy. It was faster to walk than wait for a taxi even if she did get a little wet and cold, and she knew the Davenport's famous fireplace would be roaring its usual welcome when she arrived. Then a nice hot Bailey's Irish Cream with coffee in the Peacock Room Lounge would have her feeling back in sorts in no time at all.

The bricks on the hotel entryway were slick and shiny in the glow of the overhead flood lights. A doorman she had never seen before stepped into the rain to greet her. He reached for her umbrella and ushered her quickly through the door into the lobby. 

"Welcome, Miss," he smiled coolly.

His greeting was courteous rather than welcoming, but Sylvia knew he had carefully checked her out. The practiced eye he used when he looked her over had been professional and subtle. Most women probably wouldn't have noticed, but personally she always felt annoyed that an unescorted woman couldn't walk into a nice hotel without feeling suspect. The Davenport had a reputation for keeping a close watch on the hookers that flourished nearby and as a result they were rarely seen here.

Sylvia hurried into the practically deserted Peacock Room. Lightly perfumed votive candles on each small table flickered softly, the only direct lighting in the intimate room. Classical music enhanced the warm, inviting ambience, reminding her of old money and a bygone, musty elegance. She and Brandon had commented that the few call girls they occasionally did see here were very high-class and expensive looking.

She looked around the lounge and was immediately cognizant of being the only woman in the room, except for Laura, the cocktail waitress. As she took off her coat she smiled and waved, giving Laura a 'thumbs-up' to signal she was ready for her usual drink before settling into an overstuffed leather chair. Her skirt was drenched and she stretched her legs out toward an ornate old radiator, kicking off her shoes and wiggling her toes against its warmth. Greedily sipping the hot drink Laura sat before her, she quickly jerked it away when she painfully burned her tongue. Embarrassed, she looked around the room to see if anyone had seen her. A tall, slender man sat watching her intently from the bar. She followed his eyes and realized he hadn't noticed her discomfort because he was instead staring at her long legs stretched out before her.

Sylvia instinctively slithered deeper into the chair, feeling her damp skirt slide further up her slippery, nylon-covered legs. She knew she had a great pair of legs and liked having them looked at, especially by such a handsome man. As she more carefully sipped her drink she peered over the cup, studying him obliquely. She glanced around the room, pleased with the knowledge that men still found her attractive. She took a deep breath, enjoying heat radiating toward her and began to feel the best she had all day.

Laura soon appeared before her with another drink. She placed it on the table and was grinning broadly as Sylvia looked up at her in surprise.

"But, I didn't order this . . . " she started to say.

"It's from the gentleman at the bar." Laura winked knowingly, nodding her head at the man who had been admiring her legs. Sylvia turned to look at him and he smiled, toasting her silently with his drink. Sylvia smiled back, flattered by his confident gesture and watched as he stood up, tucked his tie into his jacket and walked toward her. Laura discretely slipped away, a smug look on her face.

"Mind if I join you?' he asked politely.

Sylvia felt the familiar flush of excitement that always accompanied a man's first attentions. She was no stranger to being approached and always enjoyed the flirtation and game playing. The instant chemistry between a new man and herself was one of her greatest enjoyments of being a woman. She looked at him approvingly, noticing that his expensive business suit and tie were the latest style. He was younger than she had realized, but was even more attractive close up.

Taking her silence as acquiescence, he lowered himself gracefully into the chair next to her.

"Thanks for the drink," she said.

His smile was boyish and charming, and Sylvia was struck by his strong sense of presence. "You looked a little cold and wet," he grinned. He held out his hand and waited patiently until she finally extended hers. "My name's Brad." He took it and squeezed softly.

She was surprised at how soft and gentle, almost feminine his grip seemed coming from such a large man. His eyes sparkled playfully as he settled back into his chair and then leaned attentively forward when she finally smiled at him.

Sylvia was aware of his subtle cologne faintly hanging in the air between them. "Mine's Sylvia," she offered. "And thanks again for the drink, even though my poor tongue's so burned I don't know if I can handle it."

He laughed softly. "I thought you might appreciate another warmer-upper. It's really been nasty out today, hasn't it?"

"Yeah, but actually I love the rain, even if my shoes got soaked coming over here," she answered. "In this weather it doesn't take long."

Sylvia watched him as he looked down at her feet and then deliberately ran his eyes slowly up her long legs to stop at her breasts. She was hotly aware of her nipples filling under his inquisitive gaze. He took his time inspecting her and made no pretense about what he was doing or his pleasure in doing it. It was obvious he liked what he saw and Sylvia could feel herself shiver involuntarily with the enjoyment of having his eyes rove over her.

Abruptly, he looked up into her eyes and smiled. "I've got some fluffy towels in my room you could dry off those pretty feet with," he blurted. He leaned closer to her, his voice dropping to a whisper. "We wouldn't want you to catch a cold now, would we?"

Sylvia caught herself smiling back at him without thinking. She found his manner and words amusing as the realization slowly began to dawn on her. "Christ, he thinks I'm a hooker," she thought. "He's been surveying the merchandise and now he's tendering an offer."

Instead of feeling insulted, she felt a rush of excitement and realized that she found his assumption flattering. He was, after-all, handsome and sexy and certainly quite charming even if a little too forward for her taste. And without knowing it, he was playing directly into an old recurring fantasy of hers.

She looked down at his hand, noticing the heavy gold band on his ring finger. He caught her look and smiled again.

"It's okay," he said. "She knows how lonely I get on the road." He looked wistfully down at his ring, an unreadable look clouding his eyes. "Her name is Sarah and we've been married for two years."

Sylvia felt a twinge deep inside and tried to visualize the woman he was talking about.

"She's blond and young and very pretty," he said, as if reading her mind. "We love each other dearly, but we're apart so much . . . " his voice trailed off.

"Doesn't she, uhh, Sarah, mind that you see other women?" Sylvia asked softly, absently twisting her own wedding ring.

He looked directly into her eyes and answered very slowly and intently. "No, not anymore. As long as I'm discrete and careful and don't get emotionally involved." He heisted a moment as if searching for just the right words. "I know it must sound like a line, but during the last year or so we've developed a, ah, an understanding."

His voice somehow rang true, and Sylvia found herself hanging on every word.

They were quiet a long time. She sipped her drink pensively, remembering how liberating it had felt back when Brandon had encouraged her to conquer her own jealousies and think more like a man, to unapologetically explore her kinkier side.

"Does she really understand or are you just telling yourself that?" she finally asked.

He took a deep breath and seemed almost to blush as he started talking again.

"No, I'm not," he blurted, "actually, it was her idea." He leaned even closer to Sylvia, his voice so soft she could barely hear him. "She wants me to tell her everything I do with the women I meet. Absolutely everything."

He paused to take another sip of his drink before continuing. "She likes me to share every detail when I get home. What they're wearing, if they're pretty, how they strip for me . . . " He swallowed nervously, " . . . what special things they like to do. She loves fantasizing about what it would be like if she was right there with us."

Sylvia uncrossed her legs slowly as he continued to talk, feeling both surprised and pleased at how similar her fantasies were to Sarah's. She could smell the faint but familiar musky scent of her own heat as she involuntarily squirmed against the leather chair. She wondered if Brad was aware of it too. She remembered how erotic it could be when she and Brandon related their sexual exploits to each other. Brandon loved relating intimate details from his early wild times, playing her masterfully as he watched her become more and more excited by his stories and then growing teasingly vague as he tweaked her imagination about his current business trips.

She would often fantasize herself sitting naked and aroused across a darkened hotel room from him and some beautiful stranger, masturbating as she watched every move they made while making love. She would grow increasingly turned on, encouraging him to bare every act and nuance in almost pornographic detail until she could no longer hold back. Frantic for release and begging him to tell her all, she would mount him and cum at the same time as he and his mysterious lady.

They had spent more than one pleasant rainy Sunday afternoon with Brandon encouraging her to share both the juicier memories of her past lovers and the excitement of their current flirtations. They would lie in bed drinking wine and savoring the perverse pleasure of him stroking himself while Sylvia watched and talked, both of them becoming more and more aroused.

Sylvia's mind snapped back to the present when Brad put his hand on her leg, just above her knee, and squeezed lightly. She felt the pleasant warmth of his fingers through her thin nylons and resisted the involuntary impulse to pull away. She glanced at his lap and grinned inwardly, pleased to notice a new fullness in his slacks and feeling a rush of ownership of his visceral reaction to her. He saw her eyes on him and made no attempt to hide his erection.

"You can make all three of us very happy, Sylvia," he cooed. "You, me, and Sarah." He reached for his briefcase and stood up. "I'm in room 210."

Standing directly in front of her and obviously aware that his crotch was exactly at her eye level he smiled and reached for his wallet, the motion causing his slacks to emphasize his condition even more.

Sylvia felt his smile penetrate deep into her and knew she wanted to do exactly as he had suggested. She watched silently as he dropped some money on the table.

"Pay for the drinks." He took a deep breath before continuing. "This should take care of the bar tab and tip . . . " he said, "and everything else. I'll see you upstairs in a few minutes."

His voice was still warm but had a new and excited urgency to it.

"Don't disappoint us, Sylvia." He stepped away and then stopped. "Room 210," he whispered.

Sylvia watched him stride confidently out of the lounge. He went directly to the antique elevators across the hall and pushed a button, revealing his nervousness only fleetingly when he glanced back at her just as he stepped out of sight. Sylvia picked up her cup and drained the last of the now-cold drink, mildly surprised to see that her hands were steadier than she was feeling.

"Ready for another one?"

Startled, Sylvia looked up as Laura suddenly materialized next to her.

"Uhh, no thanks, Laura. I think I'll slip off, too." She reached for the pile of money Brad had left and picked two twenties off the top, laying them next to the empty glasses. Her eyes almost jumped out of her head when she realized the next three bills were hundreds. She stuffed them guiltily into her purse before Laura could see them.

"Keep the change, Hon," she stammered.

Glancing at her watch, Sylvia thought about Brandon. He wouldn't show up for another two hours at the earliest and would likely be even later. She walked quickly down the hall and slipped into the ornate ladies room, listening to her heart beat rapidly in her chest. She stood in front of the large mirror and washed her hands for a long time, carefully studying the reflection looking back at her.

"Wow! Pretty good for an old broad," she whispered to herself. "Three hundred bucks, up-front. Christ, what a rush!" She grinned and leaned closer to the mirror. "How many women could do that at my age?"

She looked at herself again, more critically this time. Did she really look like a hooker, she wondered? Brandon loved having her dress in clothes that emphasized her sexuality but never in anything that looked cheap. She usually wore modest length skirts with silk blouses and knew she looked great in them. She smiled as she admired the lacy, low-cut brassiere that showed clearly under her blouse, her nipples playfully pushing twin mounds through the delicate material. She was pleased with her image and knew she looked as sexy and attractive as she felt.

She flushed with happiness as she again thought of Brandon and his total acceptance of her sexuality. He loved sharing her beauty with other men and always encouraged her to continue growing in her self-confidence. Now, after her years with him she felt neither guilt nor remorse, just a welcome and confident acceptance of her steadily building excitement.

She carefully combed her hair, enjoying the warm feelings surging through her body. She put fresh shadow on her eyelids and carefully applied a tiny trace of lipstick. As she dropped the makeup into her purse, she saw Brad's money again and felt her cheeks flush involuntarily. She hesitated, fingering the crisp bills as she looked at herself in the mirror. Suddenly, her decision made, she snapped her purse closed and walked out of the ladies room and up to the front desk.

"May I have an envelope and a piece of paper, please?" she asked.

The man politely handed her a long, beige envelope and stationery with the Davenport logo printed on the corner. On the paper she quickly wrote, "Brad, save this for a special, rainy day with Sarah." She folded it around the bills, put them inside and sealed it. She pushed the envelope across the counter and smiled sweetly to the young man.

"Could you please make sure this gets to the gentleman in 210 before he checks out?" She watched as he placed it into the mail slot behind him and then turned, nodding politely to her.

"Thanks."

She walked briskly to the elevator and was upstairs standing before Brad's door in minutes. She looked carefully up and down the long hall, and then looked again. She took a couple of deep breaths and smelled the pungent bite of her own fear—or was it her excitement? Swallowing down the tightness in her throat she knocked softly and without waiting for an answer pushed the door open and stepped inside.

The room was dark behind the heavy curtains except for a sliver of light stabbing out through the half-open bathroom door. The now familiar smell of Brad's cologne hung in the air and she could hear smooth jazz coming softly from a tiny clock-radio. Brad lay in the center of the king-size bed covered only by a pale yellow sheet, the blankets folded carefully in a pile on the floor. His bare chest and arms were nicely muscled and he was propped up on the pillows, looking directly at her. A bottle of white wine in an ice cooler and two full glasses sat on the small table next to the bed, along with several foil-wrapped condoms.

Sylvia stood just inside the door, leaning against it until she felt the weakness in her knees subside. As her eyes adjusted to the dim light she watched Brad reach for his wine and sip it nervously. They stared at each other for what seemed like a long time, neither of them moving, both waiting for the other to break the silence.

"Lock the door and take your clothes off," he finally said. She was surprised at how raspy his voice sounded.

"Slowly . . . very slowly," he continued. "I want to watch you strip."

Sylvia heard the hesitation in his voice and realized he was no longer as smooth and debonair as he had appeared in the bar. She was pleased to see the huge bed made him look somehow smaller, more vulnerable, and she felt her confidence surge. She reached behind her and turned the deadbolt, never taking her eyes from his. She put her coat carefully on the chair and began to slowly unbutton her blouse. She pulled it out of her skirt and let it gap open, leaving only the last button fastened before reaching down and removing her shoes and tossing them next to her coat.

Touching herself sensually, she ran her fingers slowly over her stomach and down her thighs, then slipped her hands up under her skirt and began to gently tug down her pantyhose. She turned left and right as she stepped out of each leg with slow, exaggerated poses, allowing her lace covered breasts to peek in and out of his view through the opened blouse.




Sylvia Does the Davenport



"Are you going to tell Sarah about this?" she whispered.

When he didn't answer she began to slowly gather the waistband of her skirt up, raising the hem higher and higher until it formed a micro-mini that barely covered her panties.

"Does she ever strip for you like this?" she teased, feeling herself more in control of the action and enjoying the erotic sensations her role-playing was having on her.

She turned away from his hungry eyes and bent forward, shamelessly flaunting her trim derriere. She removed her blouse and threw it on the chair, reached back and unhooked her bra and let it hang loosely down the sides of her back. She carefully unzipped her skirt and let it fall to her ankles. Shrugging her shoulders forward, the bra slipped down her arms to catch momentarily at her elbows and then off, joining the crumpled skirt at her feet. She stood proudly dressed only in white bikini panties, her back still to him.

"Is Sarah this sexy?" she purred. She rolled her hips suggestively, her hands cupping her breasts lightly. "Do you think she'll like hearing about my little strip-tease?"

"Turn around," he answered. His voice was now no more than a whimper.

Sylvia ignored him. She continued to caress herself, running her hands lovingly over her body and enjoying the insistent tingling in her nipples as they filled with delightful warmth. She reveled in the pleasure from her fingers and the enjoyment of knowing he wanted to replace them with his own. She continued caressing herself until she heard his soft plea.

"Please, Sylvia."

She slipped her fingers down her stomach and under the waistband of her panties, combing her nails through the soft forest of her well-trimmed pubic hair. With one hand she pulled the thin material lower on her hips while the fingers of her other hand slithered deeply into the hot moisture between her legs. She looked playfully over her shoulder, watching the pulsing bulge that had lifted the sheet between his legs. She felt a sudden surge in her wetness and impatiently pushed the tiny bikinis to the floor. Stepping out of them she walked directly into the beam of light from the bathroom, exposing her nakedness fully for the first time.

"Answer me, Brad." Sylvia could hear her excitement that had crept into her voice. "Will she like it?" She purred naughtily, "This is for all three of us, remember?"

When he failed to answer she continued to squeeze her plump nipples, rolling them suggestively between her thumbs and forefingers. Teasing them to their full length and hardness she lifted her breasts in a silent offering to him, the sweet pain she felt accentuating her pleasure. His eyes were glued to her fingers, his mouth hanging slightly ajar. She could hear his ragged breathing over the music.

This was what she lived for. The incredible rush when a new man saw her totally naked for the first time, with his lust so obvious and undeniable. The only thing more perfect was the heights she reached with Brandon. This kind of excitement always took her back to her first self-discoveries and reinforced just how powerful her sexuality was. She turned her back to him, mischievously hiding herself again from his hungry eyes.

"Turn around," he whispered.

His voice reminded her of a little boy's. "I want to see you touch yourself again." He hesitated when she didn't respond. "My God, Sylvia," he pleaded. "Please. You're so beautiful."

Sylvia instinctively knew she was in complete control. Not only of Brad, but of herself and the entire scenario. She smiled happily, knowing how excited Brandon would be when she told him about her afternoon.

She walked confidently to the head of the bed and took a drink of the cool wine. She turned up the volume on the radio and looked down at him as he stared back expectantly. She picked up the condoms and shuffled through them absently, as if thinking about changing her mind. Finally she dropped all but one of them back on the table and took a deep breath. A self-satisfied smile spreading across her face, she slowly began to tear open the package.

"Take the sheet off, Brad," she purred.

* * *

Brandon was finishing his second drink when Sylvia arrived downstairs. The Davenport's lounge had filled with the after-work crowd, all noisily enjoying the warmth of the popular and friendly bar. He was sitting on one of the overstuffed sofas near a dark window, looking absently out at the rain. He seemed lost in his thoughts and didn't notice her until she strode confidently over to stand directly in front of him. As he started to stand up to greet her she put her hand on his shoulder and pressed him firmly back into the sofa, kissing him lightly. She pulled back a bit and smiled, then without saying a word she leaned forward and kissed him again—this time harder, more hungrily. She opened her mouth and slithered her tongue deeply into his mouth.

Brandon's face glowed with pleasure at the warm insistence of her kiss.

"My goodness," he grinned, "and hello to you, too!" He winked conspiratorially at her, dropping his voice to a theatrical, menacingly growl.

"Can I buy you a drink, Beautiful?"

Sylvia slipped onto the sofa next to him, her hand casually landing on his leg. Glancing around to see if anyone was watching, she moved her fingers to the inside of his thigh and then deliberately slipped it higher. She squeezed him firmly, pleased to feel him immediately respond.

She grinned mischievously. "I'd rather you just . . . "she put her lips next to his ear, her voice dropping to a throaty whisper, "take me home and fuck my brains out!"

Brandon's mouth slowly opened, pleasure spreading across his face as he quickly slipped into perfect sync with her mood.

"Wow, Babe. What got into you this afternoon?" he asked.

Sylvia laughed happily. "Take me home and I just might tell you." She arched her breasts lovingly toward him. "You could be glad you asked."

She looked wistfully out the dark window at the rain-soaked street and smirked.

"Very, very glad, indeed!"



Sylvia is Spied On and Punished



Sylvia is spied upon and then punished

Ever since Sylvia had lost her virginity to her uncle Ray she has been unable to say 'no' to anyone who wanted to fuck her. The pleasure that uncle Ray gave her showed her she was unable to resist anyone. She had heard the term nymphomania and was beginning to think that it could well apply to her. Uncle Ray eventually went back to sea and Sylvia met a boy called David a few years older than her and it wasn't long before they were fucking. Although she had only recently turned 18 Sylvia started thinking about moving out. Her parents were very strict about her having boyfriends and there was no way they were going to allow him to stay over in her room. She chatted to her boyfriend and they decided that she would move in with him but when she broached the subject to her mum and dad they vetoed it immediately.

After a huge amount of cajoling and persuading they agreed that they'd think about her moving out but it certainly wouldn't be moving in with her boyfriend. Sylvia decided that if she was living somewhere else at least her boyfriend would be able to stay the night with her.

One evening her mum sat down with her and said, 'We've found somewhere where we'd be happy with you moving in to. I don't know if you remember our friends Roger and Fiona, well they've got a bedsit at the top of their house and we think it might be suitable for you. Do you want to come with us and have a look at it. 

Sylvia knew it wasn't ideal being in a house with friends of her mum and dad but at least she'd be able to sneak her boyfriend in and they'd have somewhere they could have sex whenever they wanted (which in Sylvia's case was every day).

The next day Sylvia's mum told her she had arranged for them to go and view the bedsit. They had their tea and drove round to the house. As they pulled up outside the big double fronted house Sylvia thought it a bit strange to see the front left hand window had been blacked out.

She rang the doorbell and a man opened it. Sylvia's mum said, Hello Roger, this is my youngest daughter I was telling you about.'

He held his hand out and said, 'Hello, Sylvia, I'm Roger, come in.'

They followed him down the hall and into a room on the right. It was a large lounge and he said, 'This is my wife Fiona.'

Fiona went over and shook her hand and said, 'Nice to meet you.'

Roger beckoned Sylvia to sit on a sofa and he and Fiona sat opposite her. They were both probably late fifties and almost old enough to be her parents. Roger was of medium build with a full head of hair and slightly greying. Fiona was a similar height, slim, short dark blonde hair and quite attractive.

They chatted generally for a few minutes and then Roger said, 'Let Fiona show you around.'

As they went out of the room Sylvia noticed the door opposite. It was closed and had a sign on it that merely said THE ROOM.

It intrigued her she asked Fiona, 'What's in there?'

'Oh that's private, Roger has a darkroom where he processes our own photographs. He's really into photography,' she replied.

They followed her upstairs to the first floor apartment. There was a lounge/diner/small kitchen, a nice sized bathroom and a bedroom with a double bed in it. She liked what she saw and told Fiona she was interested.

Meanwhile downstairs Roger was watching them closely on the CCTV cameras he had installed up there. There was one in the lounge, another one in the bedroom and another that Fiona didn't know about in the bathroom. He had always fancied Sylvia's mum and now had feelings for her daughter too. He remembered what Ray had told him about how he took Sylvia's virginity and ended up fucking her regularly as well as fucking her mother. The one thing he regretted that he was unable to get both of them in bed at the same time. Roger wondered whether he might be more fortunate.

Fiona had agreed to installing the CCTV cameras a few months earlier when they had another young girl stay there for a while. They loved watching her masturbating and they would do the same while seeing her pleasure herself.

Fiona led them all back downstairs and Roger said, 'right let's discuss the rent.'

Fiona handed Sylvia's mum a glass of wine and they sat and chatted about old times.

Roger took Sylvia aside and they chatted about the rent. Sylvia was happy with the rent and Roger said, 'I should check your references but as I know your parents so well there'll be no need for that. When would you like to move in?

'At the weekend if that's OK with you?'

'Yes, the weekend will be fine. I do have to say though that the rent must be paid on time or I will not be happy, and you won't like it if I'm not happy, will she dear?'

'No definitely not,' Fiona replied.

What Sylvia didn't know was that her mum had told Fiona that under no circumstances was she to have any boys stay the night. Fiona assured her that they would keep their eye on her and treat her as if she was their own daughter.

They all walked to the front door and just as they were about to go Roger said, 'Oh I had a call from your brother Ray the other day and told him that Sylvia might be staying here for a while. He said he'd try and call in when he's in the area.

As soon as the name Ray was mentioned Sylvia's heart skipped a beat and her and her mum's eyes looked at each other in terror. They both thought they had seen the last of him.

************************************

It was a busy weekend but at the end Sylvia was moved in and soon felt really at home there. She had her own key to the front door and another to her door at the top of the stairs. She occasionally bumped into Roger and Fiona on her way home from work. There was no way she was not going to have David there and she decided she was going to sneak him in at the next weekend.

She loved having her own privacy and every night as she went to bed she would lie on the top of the bed and masturbate knowing that her mum or dad weren't going to walk in on her.

What she didn't know was that down below Roger and Fiona were sitting playing with each other while they watched their young guest pleasuring herself. They both decided that they wanted her.

At the weekend she managed to sneak David in when she knew that Roger and Fiona were both out and they fucked and sucked each other for most of the day. When Roger and Fiona came home and watched what their young guest had been up to all day they too fucked each other while watching the video of Sylvia. Although her mum had asked Fiona to tell her if any boys came round they were enjoying watching Sylvia fucking and had no intention of saying anything.

The rent was really a bit more than she could afford and at the end of the month she realised there wasn't going to be enough money in her bank account to cover the rent so she decided the best thing was to tell Roger and ask him if it was OK if she paid him the following week. She got home from work, had dinner and went down to see him. She knocked on the lounge door and he said, 'Come in, sit down.'

Sylvia sat down and Roger and Fiona sat opposite her on a sofa. He said, 'What can I do for you?'

She replied, 'I'm very sorry but I won't be able to pay the rent until next week, I'm sorry, but it will be in your bank this time next week.'

Roger leaned forward and said in a very strict voice ,'Well young lady I'm sorry too but that's just not acceptable, I'm very disappointed with you.'

He sat and thought for a few minutes and said, 'I cannot let this pass without some sort of punishment. I suggest that for every day the rent is late you will get one smack on the bottom, is that clear?'

'Yes, thank you,' she said.

Sylvia stood up and left the room and went back upstairs. As she sat watching TV she couldn't get out of her head what Roger had said about smacking her bottom. She had loved it when uncle Ray had smacked her bottom and it was something that really turned her on and now she could feel herself getting aroused and it wasn't long before she was naked and needed to feel some pain. She searched through the kitchen drawers and found some clips to put on her nipples. She loved the feel as they pinched her erect nipples. It hurt, but she liked the pain as she knew that after the pain came the pleasure.

She went back into the lounge and masturbated to the thought that in a few days' time, her landlord Roger was going to punish her and smack her bottom. She even considered phoning her bank and getting them to delay payment by a few more days so that she would be punished more. Her orgasm, when it came was very intense and satisfying as Roger and Fiona witnessed.

For the next few days, the punishment was in the back of her mind and as she was so looking forward to it she found that she always seemed to be aroused and each night when she got home for work she was amazed at how wet her panties were.

Seven days later and Sylvia checked with her bank and found that the payment had gone through to Roger's bank. She was in a dreadful state all day as she knew this was going to be the day she got her bottom smacked. She was so horny that it was all she could do to stop herself going to the ladies and masturbating. When she got home her panties were soaking wet. She thought about changing them but quite honestly she liked feeling the dampness of them against her pussy.

She had dinner and went downstairs. She was trembling with anticipation as she knocked on their lounge door.

'Come in,' Roger called.

She opened the door and walked in. She said, 'I've checked with my bank and they say that the rent money has been transferred to your account today.'

'Oh that's good,' said Roger, 'so it should have cleared into my account in about 3 days time.'

'No,' it'll be there now,' Sylvia replied.

'OK so that's seven smacks on the bottom then,' he said.

He was sitting on the sofa and Fiona got up and sat opposite. He pointed at his lap and said, 'Right, bend over.'

Sylvia didn't hesitate and got herself comfortable. She could already feel his hard cock on her chest and just before the first smack came down Fiona said, 'Shall I take her panties down?'

'Good idea, dear,' Roger said and Fiona went behind Sylvia, lifted her skirt and took her panties down, she lifted her feet and slipped them right off. Her skirt was now right up around her waist and exposing her rounded arse.

Fiona picked the panties up and said, 'these panties are very damp are you aroused?'

Sylvia felt herself blushing and didn't answer.

Roger said, 'Well come on answer, are your aroused, is this making you horny?'

'Yes,' Sylvia whispered.

Roger said to his wife, 'Hold them to my nose, let me smell her juices.'

Fiona did as she was told and Roger said, 'My, young lady you really are excited aren't you and your cunt juices smell exquisite, now let's get on with this punishment.'

Suddenly Sylvia felt the first smack which really hurt and made her arse sting and she winced with the pain but it also made her more aroused and she could feel her nipples hardening and her pussy getting wetter. She parted her legs a little more too and Roger noticed and said, 'Would you like Fiona to caress your pussy while I punish you?'

Sylvia didn't answer but Fiona moved behind her and knelt on the floor and was soon rubbing her wet pussy lips. Sylvia was in heaven as the second smack rained down on her. She winced again but the pleasure of Fiona's finger sliding inside her soon outweighed the pain. Thwack the third and then the fourth smack but the way Fiona was sliding her fingers in and out of her wet cunt totally cut out the pain.

Sylvia was rubbing herself up and down on Roger's hard cock which she could feel through her blouse. She wanted to cum, she needed to cum. Then the fifth and sixth smack hit her, her arse cheeks were on fire and she loved it. She knew they would be very red too. Suddenly she realised she was only going to get one more smack and Roger said, 'How many is that?'

Sylvia said, 'I think it must be four.'

Fiona replied, 'No, I've been counting and it's only three.'

'OK, four more then,' said Roger and his hand slapped her again.

Fiona was now sliding three fingers into Sylvia's soaking wet cunt and trying to get even more in. Her other hand had found her clit and was soon tweaking it. Thwack, thwack came smack five and six. 

'Just one more now,' Roger said and down his hand came even harder.

Sylvia was disappointed and said, 'Please carry on and let me cum.'

Roger said, 'So you really want to cum do you?'

'Oh yes, I need to,' she replied.

OK, fine, stand up and masturbate in front of me,' he ordered.

Sylvia was embarrassed but very horny and was desperate to cum.

Roger, said, 'Come on slut, get on with it.'

Hearing him call her a slut aroused her even more.

Sylvia stood in front of Roger, raised her skirt and started fingering herself. Fiona sat next to Roger on the sofa and handed him Sylvia's panties. He put them to his nose and sniffed them. Meanwhile Fiona had taken Roger's huge hard cock out and was wanking him while he watched their young guest pleasuring herself.

After a short while Roger said to his wife, 'I want to taste her cunt juices.'

Fiona leaned forward and slipped a finger inside Sylvia's pussy and fucked her a short while then took her finger out. As she sat back beside her husband she sniffed her finger and said, 'Oh, dear her cunt smells exquisite.'

Roger smelt his wife's finger and started licking Sylvia's juices off it. He knew he was about to cum and Fiona beckoned her to stand nearer. Suddenly Sylvia orgasmed and her legs almost gave way as her body gave her the relief she so desperately needed.

She stepped closer to Roger and as Fiona wanked her husband faster he suddenly spurted his hot cum all over Sylvia's young body.

Fiona then got down on her knees and licked her husband's cum off her stomach.

Sylvia lowered her skirt and with Roger still sniffing her knickers she went back up to her room. She slumped down on the sofa and sat and recovered. Her arse was still sore but she had that wonderful feeling that follows a very satisfying orgasm. She had almost dropped off to sleep when she heard some shouting from downstairs. She opened her door and could hear Fiona but couldn't hear what she was saying.

Sylvia started slowly going down the stairs and suddenly realised the sounds were coming from The Room. She stood quietly outside and listened. She could hear Fiona saying, 'No more please Master, I know I have done wrong, but please no more punishment.'

There followed the swish of a cane and the sound of it contacting with flesh and Fiona shouting out in pain.

Roger then said, 'I told you as soon as she came here that she's my slut and my slut alone. I did not give you permission to smell your finger after you had finger fucked her, you should have offered your finger direct to me, you have to be punished for that. As for licking my cum off her stomach without my permission, well I just can't believe you even considered doing that. I was going to get her to wipe it off herself and then lick her fingers clean.'

Sylvia was getting very aroused again hearing Fiona being punished. She realised she still didn't have any knickers on and her hand was soon between her legs fingering her pussy again.

She heard the swish of the cane again and again and Fiona begging for mercy but Roger was having none of it. The more she heard the more aroused she became and it was only a few minutes and Sylvia, with her skirt up around her waist was bring herself to another huge orgasm.

Meanwhile in The Room was Fiona was paying for her behaviour earlier.

Sylvia listened for a little longer and then went back up to her flat. She sat on the sofa and kept remembering what Roger had said about being his slut. Amazingly it was making her wet again.

The next day Sylvia went to work as normal and what she had heard in The Room wasn't far from her mind all day. When she got home there was a note pinned on her door which read

After you've had your dinner come downstairs, I need to talk to you. 

Sylvia started getting dinner ready and couldn't help wondering what Roger wanted to see her about. Secretly she hoped he might be going to tell her off again and have to smack her bottom again. The thought of this started getting her panties damp. She had dinner and could feel herself getting more and more aroused. 

As soon as she finished she decided to go downstairs. She considered leaving her panties off but knew how much Roger liked smelling them yesterday and if she was going to be punished for whatever reason he might well want her panties.

So she went downstairs, knocked on the lounge door and Fiona opened it and let her in.

'Sit down,' said Roger, rather severely. 'I've got something to show you. You need to watch this very closely.'

He reached for the TV remote and pushed a button, the TV came on and after pressing another button the DVD started to play. Sylvia was looking intently when she realised she was looking at the hallway in the house. Then suddenly she appeared into view. She was clearly listening to what was going on in The Room. Sylvia was panicking as she knew what was coming next and almost straight away she saw herself lift her skirt and start masturbating. She had never felt so embarrassed and humiliated in her life. 

All she could say, 'I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I don't know what came over me.'

Roger said, 'When you first came here I remember telling you that that room is private and you have invaded our privacy, you will be punished.'

'Fiona, take her to The Room and prepare her for me,' he ordered his wife.

Fiona went over to Sylvia and said, 'Come with me.'

Sylvia said, 'Oh Roger, please, I'm so sorry, it won't happen again.'

'Take her to The Room,' he repeated.

Sylvia got up and followed Fiona next door. She took a key out of her pocket and unlocked the door and they both went in and Fiona locked the door behind them.

Sylvia couldn't believe what she was seeing. She knew the windows had been blacked out but was astonished to see that all the walls were covered in mirrors. There were stands holding canes and whips. Another rack had lots of rubber and leather wear. Hanging down from the ceiling were several ropes and hooks. Sylvia couldn't believe what she was seeing. She had read about dungeons before but never believed she'd see one, let alone be in one and about to be punished.

Fiona started undressing her and tossed her clothes onto a nearby chair until she stood naked in front of her. Fiona remembered the previous evening when she slipped a finger inside her to let Roger smell her juices and wanted to do it again but to be able to taste her juices herself. She knew that Roger could walk in any moment now and that she would be punished if he caught her.

Fiona said, 'Let me give you one piece of advice, call him Sir or master at all times and although the pain will hurt the pleasure that follows will be very intense and the pain will be worthwhile. Now I have to get some clothing on you.'

She went and got a black silk waspie suspender belt with 6 hanging suspender straps and a pair of sheer fully fashioned stockings and a pair of 5 inch high heeled ankle strap red shoes. Fiona said, 'You won't be wearing a bra as Master will have something in mind for your tits, now let me get these on for you.'

She reached round Sylvia's waist and put the waspie on and pulled the zip tightly up. Then sitting on the chair she pulled on the stockings making sure that the seams were as straight as possible and with all the mirrors around it was easy to check how straight they were. Fiona pulled the suspender clips down and attached all six of them to the stockings. Finally she knelt in front of Sylvia and put the shoes on and fastened the straps round her ankles.




Sylvia is Spied On and Punished



Fiona helped her to her feet and she took a few steps and tried to get used to them. Sylvia admired herself in one of the mirrors and loved her slutty look. Her nipples were quite hard and she had that wonderful feeling between her legs of a very damp pussy.

Fiona said, 'Open your legs.'

Sylvia parted her legs and Fiona took her panties and started pushing them inside her until only about an inch was poking out. She said, 'I know master will enjoy smelling these later.'

Suddenly the door opened and Roger came in. He was naked except for a leather strap round his balls, and his cock. Sylvia was amazed at the size of it and also because the straps made it stand out straight in front of him. In his hand he held a glass of drink. He handed it to Sylvia and said, 'Drink this, it's a combination of a tranquiliser which will free you from all your reservations and Viagra which will ensure that your sexual appetite will be immense.'

Sylvia took the glass and gulped it all down in one go.

'I also have to say that you look very slutty but of course the real reason you are here is to be punished for invading our privacy last night,' he continued.

He said to Fiona, 'Get me the lipstick.'

She handed it to her husband and as he moved closer to Sylvia she could feel his erect cock touching her stomach. He took a lip pencil and drew a big red circle round Sylvia's large aureola and then with the lipstick coated her whole nipple making sure he put it on very thickly. He was impressed how large her nipples now were. He gave the lipstick a few minutes to dry and then coated both nipples with lipgloss. He stood back and admired his work. Finally he picked up the lipstick again and wrote in big red letters the word SLUT across her stomach.

He handed the make-up back to Fiona and said, 'Get me the rope and tape.'

Fiona handed her husband some thin rope and he started binding it round one of Sylvia's tits, making sure he pulled it tightly and then started winding it round the other one, finally tying it behind her back. Then he got some thick insulating tape and wrapped it tightly round both tits. Her tits stood straight out in front of her. They were also soon looking very red as the blood supply was restricted. It also made her nipples stand out even more.

Then suddenly he reached up for a rope that was hanging from the ceiling and pulled it down. It turned out to be an elastic rope and on the end was a metal clip and he attached it to one of Sylvia's lipstick coated nipples.

She yelled, 'Ouch that hurts.'

'That's the plan, it's part of the punishment,' he replied.

He reached up for another elasticated rope and attached it to the other nipple. Again Sylvia called out. Roger released the elastic ropes and they sprang back upwards pulling Sylvia's tits up. Although she often put wooden pegs on her nipples the metal ones were digging into them and really hurting and with the ropes pulling them up doubled the pain. Sylvia glanced sideways and could see herself in a mirror. The sight, although very painful was also very arousing and she felt herself getting wetter and wetter.

Roger went and chose a cane and made a few swishing noises with it before bring it down and giving Sylvia a stinging blow across the buttocks. As she lurched forward she felt the nipple clamps pulling on her nipples. Then a second and third smack of the cane came in quick succession.

Fiona said, 'Her buttocks are marking up nicely Master.'

Although Sylvia was in pain she loved the feeling of helplessness, the feeling of being under the control of a master and it got her more and more aroused. Roger pulled on the elasticated ropes and pulled her tits up higher. Sylvia yelped in pain. She was getting to the point where she desperately needed to cum. Her hands were free and she moved them down between her legs.

Roger said, 'Stop that I once, I decide when and how you cum, how dare you do that without asking my permission.'

He put the cane back and got a thin cat of nine tails and said, 'Open your legs slut.'

Sylvia did as she was told and he gently swung the flail up between her legs mainly hitting her panties that were still poking out of her cunt. He reached forward and slowly pulled them out. The feeling Sylvia got was sensational and she thought she was going to cum there and then.

Roger held them to Sylvia's nose and said, 'Do you like the smell of your cunt juices?'

Sylvia took a big inhale and loved the smell and then Roger said, 'Open your mouth.'

He started pushing them into her mouth until they were all inside her. She could now taste her juices as well as smell them which just heightened her excitement even more.

Roger swung the flail up between her legs again and she loved it as it brushed against her cunt lips. Roger could see by the look on her face she was enjoying it which was just making him more aroused so he carried on and now made sure it hit her clit.

'Oh master, I'm going to cum, Oh fuck master, I'm cummmmmming.'

Sylvia had just had one of the most intense climaxes of her life. She almost collapsed forward but the ropes on her tits and the nipple clamps prevented this.

Roger reached up and undid the elasticated ropes and Sylvia collapsed on the floor, her mouth still full of her panties.

'Time for me to cum now, can't decide which hole to cum in first, mouth, cunt or arse, oh I think you can suck me off first.'

He went and got two nipple clamps with weights on them and attached them to Sylvia's stretched nipples. Although they hurt she loved the feel as her nipples were stretched.

Roger sat on a sofa and said, 'Kneel in front of me and suck me off, I will cum in your mouth and keep it all in there, do not spit it out or swallow it.'

As she knelt down in front of her master, she loved the look of his cock, seldom had she seen one harder. As she opened her mouth and took it in she felt Fiona behind her. She realised that she was licking her arse hole and then trickled something cold which she assumed was oil into it. The feeling was sensational as she felt it run down inside her. She knew what was coming next and she felt the cold hard plastic of a vibrator teasing her little dark hole open. Gently Fiona eased it inside her until all six inches had disappeared. She flicked the switch on the end and the wonderful vibrations were soon coursing through her body.

Sylvia was sucking Master's cock and teasing the end with her tongue, she had reached under him and was rubbing his huge spunk filled balls and determined not to let him cum too soon.

Sylvia was in heaven and then she felt Fiona's tongue on her cunt lips and absolutely loved it, she felt a finger slide inside her so easily and soon that was followed by a second and a third. Sylvia loved the feeling of something so large inside her. But Fiona had other ideas and soon a fourth finger and eventually her whole fist was in there. The feelings Sylvia was getting was better than she had ever felt before as Fiona started fist fucking her.

This made her suck her Master even stronger and she was now desperate for a mouthful of his cum, she rubbed and squeezed his balls and licked the head of his cock while still sucking as hard as she could.

She had trouble concentrating as she felt her next orgasm nearing. She so needed to cum again and eventually with the vibrator buzzing away in her arse and her being fist fucked soon she was cumming, her juices just seemed to start flowing and she thought they would never stop as wave after wave of orgasmic pleasure throbbed through her body.

Roger sensed this and even before she had finished cumming he was pumping his hot seed deep inside her mouth. Sylvia loved the feel of it and she clamped her mouth tightly around the head to stop any cum leaking out.

Roger took his cock out and said, 'Now you must lick Fiona's cunt and coat it and soak it with my cum.'

Fiona replaced Roger on the sofa, her legs wide apart and now Fiona moved towards her. She had never had anything to do with another woman before, however, she certainly knew how to lick pussy and she clamped her mouth over her pussy lips and opened it. Roger's spunk gushed out all over his wife's cunt and Sylvia started licking her cunt lips and had to admit she loved doing it.

Meanwhile Roger was behind Sylvia now and with the vibrator still embedded deep inside her arse he started licking her cunt juices from between her legs. He was amazed at how wet she was and how much juice she had produced.

Her cunt was still gaping wide and he eased a couple of fingers deep inside her and started finger fucking her. Sylvia just knew that another orgasm wasn't far away and when she felt his fist go all the way in she was in heaven again. She was also really enjoying pleasuring Fiona and she moved up to find her clit which she was amazed at the size of it. She licked it a few times and then managed to clamp her lips tightly around it and sucked it. Within seconds Fiona was bucking with pleasure as Sylvia gave her such an intense orgasm. Sylvia loved the taste of another woman's cum as she more or less ejaculated all over her face.

Now she could concentrate on her pleasure and it was only a matter of a minute or two before her body was thrashing about with another huge cum. She collapsed face down on the floor, her nipples being squashed by the nipple clamps. She was exhausted and ready to sleep but Roger had other ideas. He slipped the vibrator out of Sylvia's arse and replaced it with his hard cock. Although Sylvia enjoyed gentle anal sex this was not what she was getting from Roger as he fucked her arse as hard as he could. All he was interested in was his pleasure, he needed to cum again and he had made up his mind that Sylvia's arse was where he was going to cum. At first she hated it but soon pleasure took over for the pain and although she didn't cum again the feel of Master's hard cock ejaculating his hot spunk deep inside her was a wonderful way to finish the evening.

They sat and recovered and shared a bottle of wine. Roger looked at Fiona and said, 'I think we've found our new sex slave.'

Sylvia looked at the both, smiled and nodded.

As she went up to her room Roger said, 'Now all we need to do is have her and her mum together.' 



Sylvia Seduces



Another from me, this time charting a young man's first time. Mature, voluptuous, sexy Sylvia seduces her friend's son. The pitfall being he's her friend's son! Please send feedeback about any part you enjoy, or any part you don't. There may be errors that remain - forgive me if there are.

Above all, I hope you enjoy.

GA - David, Panama 20th March 2012

The scene: Battersea, South London. 1980

The two girls, one blonde and thin, pretty in a doll-like way, the other, with deep black hair and richly voluptuous, grinned at each other nervously. Around them in the grubby flat were a sink full of dirty cups, a table decorated solely by an overflowing ashtray, wires and cables leading to camera equipment and lights, and four men.

The blonde wore the wedding dress while her friend was dressed as for attending the celebration of marriage in some capacity as a guest. Two of the men in the room were similarly attired, one as the groom, while the other wore a simple, dark suit.

Another man, older than the rest, with the mallet features of a boxer, expensively dressed, sucked on a cigar and eyed the two women.

He nodded appreciatively, speaking to the whip-thin man fiddling with a camera. "Should be good," Ray," he growled in a whiskey-lined voice. The cigar jabbed the point. "Two lookers this time, especially the dark one; shame the gown don't fit her." He nodded again. "But the blonde'll do for the bride, sure. She's pretty enough." His eyes flicked over the ripe figure of the dark girl again. He should have hired a bigger dress. "Never get those tits in the fuckin' one I got," he muttered.

"OK, ladies and gents," the photographer, Ray, called. Clapping his hands like a Hollywood director, he ordered: "Let's get you together. Smile now with the bride and groom holding hands. You're in love! That's it. The other two look on smiling, big grins. Your friends have just gotten married ..." The big lights flashed and the photo shoot began.

A few minutes later and both women were kneeling, their eyes staring into the lens of the camera while they smiled around the substantial erections for which the two young men had been hired. In the next pose the dark girl's mouth was crammed with the groom's girth while the blonde, reclining on a sofa, had her legs forcibly bent at the knees while the ardent wedding guest laved at her uptilted vulva.

She looked towards the photographer, eyes filled with shock at the situation she found herself in. This can't be true. I can't really be here ... doing this. Although it had been her idea to answer the advert in the paper: Models Wanted. A phone number supplied. "A hundred quid, Sylvie; just for prancing about with our tits out." And here they were, earning their hundred Great British pounds.

The man with the boxer's face, Stan, had been very persuasive with his sparkling eyes, battered, red-veined nose and his rough-diamond, cockney-geezer manner. "Tasteful, girls," he'd grinned. "Not your mucky shite from the Continent." He'd looked appalled at the mere thought. "You two beautiful ladies posing with a coupla 'andsome lads ... Lavverly."

"Porn, Val," the dark-haired girl had whispered. Valerie had seen the gleam in her friend's eyes. The mucky cow was actually excited by the prospect. "He wants us for a porn shoot," Sylvie had continued. "Fucking in front of people ... Fucking strangers ..."

And Sylvia had had her way, agreeing to model in a contrived wedding scene, with Valerie, as ever, going along with it.

Ray kept proceedings in order. The natural tendency of the two male models, as with all men Sylvia encountered, had been to gravitate towards the voluptuous girl, with her pouting bottom lip and feline eyes. As though they sensed her fecundity on an instinctive level, as though it was their duty under a primeval law to fill her with their seed, both young men vied for Sylvie's cunt. Ray had stared at the thick, dark triangle of the girl's pubic bush, muttering an obscenity when he too felt drawn to the scarlet slash of her bubbling sex through her splayed labia. Resisting the urge to abandon his cameras and lights, Ray directed his models in a series of lewd poses, ignoring the invitation offered between Sylvie's casually widespread legs.

"You," he pointed towards one of the men. "Sit over there; I want blondie sat on you. Hold it up for her so she can get on it. Face the camera," Ray barked when Valerie leaned face first over the man. "Legs wide. Let me see that cunt ..."

Sylvie grew frustrated at the endless interruptions and permutation of poses Ray demanded. "Will you just let me come?" she snarled. "Fucking these two in fits and starts isn't going to get me close to coming ..."

"You ain't 'ere 'cos you wanna feel good," Stan spoke from a corner and punctuated with the end of a perpetual cigar. 'You're 'ere to do wot Ray says. Now, be a good girl and lift yer tits up so's that nice young bloke there," he nodded and pointed with his cigar again. "So's that nice young bloke can dump 'is load on your big jugs."

Later, after Valerie had scuttled crab-like to the shower, with a hand cupped to catch the jizm seeping from her body, Ray invited Sylvia Taylor for a drink.

The nineteen year-old with goo spattered breasts grinned back at the man who would become her first husband.

Hitchin, Hertfordshire. Present day

He wrote her letters. Not love letters, he'd deny, just words on his feelings, words about how he felt when she was near, and how he felt when she wasn't close by. Delivery was a clandestine affair, dropped through the letter box at the pub where she worked.

"Just until I get a nest egg together," she'd say. "A little bar work and a bit of a flirt with the punters." A bit of innocent fun until there was enough money for a new start. The men in the pub, as usual for Sylvia Taylor even now, all flirted with her, eager to be the focus of her attention. With her precipitous cleavage artfully displayed she was the epitome of the jaded, seen-it-all-done-most-of-it barmaid. Sylvia Taylor pulled pints with aplomb, smiling and self-assured, hinting with her eyes and impressive frontage that she might, just might let you take her home and let you fuck her.

Ah to be engulfed in that wonderfully soft body! To kiss her mouth, taste the booze and the tobacco on her tongue, and to lick every inch of her from her shivering tits to the molten heat of her between her legs.

Skirts too short and her blouses too tight, the women would think, their eyes narrowing suspiciously, painted nails razor sharp as they watched their men act like buffoons. Skirts too short and blouses too tight, the men would nod and wink and grin. 

Business as usual for Sylvia. Water off a duck's back. But there were the letters. Who was sending her those love notes?

"TIME, ladies and gents puh-leeze!" Howard the twenty-something bar manager called, rolling his eyes at Sylvia. "Your date's here," he smirked, jutting his chin towards the door. "You might as well get away, Sylvie," he added. "I'll close up."

Sylvia glanced at the boy waiting by the door. "Walks me here and back every night," she commented to Howard. "Lovely lad. Really nice."

"They're the ones to watch, Sylvie, love." Howard arched his plucked eyebrows and winked lasciviously. "Good-looking young man. I might have a crack at him myself."

"Don't you taint him with your poofter ways," Sylvia joked, narrowing her eyes at Howard. She picked up her bag, checked her phone, purse and cigarettes were inside and, with every male eye, heterosexual and straight, watching her, moved across to where the young man waited.

He grinned bashfully, shy as always. At her approach his eyes characteristically flicked down to his feet, as though he was embarrassed to look at her directly. The penny dropped for Sylvia. They're the ones to watch ... He was there every night to see her safely home, an accord they'd fallen into during the dark nights when Sylvia had first taken the job. His mother had insisted. It wouldn't be safe for Sylvia to walk back alone. Not at night, a woman on her own. And so she'd gracefully accepted his guardianship, a solid, youthful figure, her silent knight who protected her from the potential molesters lurking out in the wilds of Hitchin town centre.

He walked alongside her, uncommunicative as ever, yet there was no awkwardness between them; Sylvia was used to him; she'd known him all his life. As they walked, she thought, dwelled upon Howard's unintentionally prescient words. It had to be him, she decided.

At first, when the letters started dropping onto the doormat of the pub she'd suspected Howard of some practical joke. Then she recanted; Howard could be an absolute bitch but it just wasn't like him to be intentionally cruel, not to a friend. Following that she'd been mystified, reasoning that the clientele of the pub, the regulars, full of bullshit and bonhomie, would be likely, collectively, to misspell the headline of a red-topped tabloid. The composition of the letters would be beyond them.

It had to be him. There was just nobody else capable of putting the words together. There was nobody else, less the maligned Harold, with the sensitivity.

The question now was how to deal with it. His mother was her best friend; Sylvia was a guest in their house. The last thing she needed, or wished to impose upon the saintly Marion, Sylvia's provider of succour -- again -- was upheaval, a drama that could threaten a friendship of decades, not to mention leave her without a roof over her head.

And Sylvia had been in that position before when, at twenty-two, she found herself homeless and friendless in a carnivorous city. She'd had nowhere to go; Valerie was long gone, besotted with her footballer boyfriend, now somewhere in the Midlands -- Nottingham, Lincoln, Peterborough, or somewhere equally as parochial. All around her the intimidating crowd swarmed, with everyone intent on their own business; desperate prostitutes and their hotels by the hour, impatient commuters, and squaddies recalled to barracks due to some squabble in the South Atlantic. Nobody saw Sylvia, the wife, estranged, of a wife-beating, lecherous photographer who turned nasty on the scotch, bereft and alone on the main concourse of London's King's Cross station.

"Are you OK?"

Expecting a predatory male with shifty eyes and a leer, Sylvia was surprised when she looked up into the soft brown eyes and concerned expression of Marion, the woman who would be mother to Justin, who in turn, at age nineteen, would pen love notes to a Sylvia on the cusp of fifty.

Sylvia, unable to help herself, began to weep; whereupon Marion, with the sensitivity and soft heart she would pass on to her son, took the bereft young woman by the wrist and led her, unresisting, onto the train, to the town of Hitchin, a place Sylvia would return to time and again; and to the house where, eventually, Justin would grow besotted by the dark-haired gypsy woman, with her languid curves and feline eyes and graceful way of moving.

She thought of the differences between them, comparing her nineteen year-old self to Justin. The daring excursion to Battersea, meeting Ray-The-Bastard. How frustrated she'd been at the climax -- no pun -- of the photo shoot, her sex soaked with desire and clamouring for release. A quick drink with Ray in a seedy South London pub before she'd ridden his cock, really taken that pulsing length of gristle into her body, and come and come and come until she collapsed, panting and spent, against Ray's heaving chest. She doubted that the shy Justin had ever kissed a girl. Her big, generous heart warmed at the thought, and Sylvia found herself almost overwhelmed by a rush of affection for the lad.

A plan began to form in her mind. As the idea developed, blossomed from a nascent seed of thought into a bloom of purpose, her body, as it always did, reacted to the lewd possibilities before her. But, even as Justin's key snickered into the mortise set in the blue front door of home Sylvia realised there was just one snag to her plan. Quite a big snag.

During the walk back home from the pub, inside the silent Justin's head, thoughts and impressions and sensations whirled. The metronomic click-clacking of her heels aroused him for reasons he couldn't understand. The heels were part of her, the entirety that was Sylvia. He often imagined her almost naked, smiling at him with her suggestive eyes heavy-lidded, hands on broad hips as, wearing those impossibly stacked shoes and hold-up stockings, with, of course, with her glorious jugs spilling abundantly over the cups of her corset, she leaned towards him for a kiss. He liked Sylvia's style; she did it her way. Uncompromising. She was who she was. He watched her drink wine, the glass poised delicately in her fingers -- fingers he fantasised squeezing his erection -- while she laughed bawdily at some wit in the bar. He watched her smoke her cigarettes, a habit he found disgusting on anyone else, but when Sylvia drew on her cigarette she gave the whole action a sensual elegance that Justin found erotic.

"Come here and fuck me," he heard her say in his fevered imaginings as she reclined on the old-fashioned chaise in his mother's parlour, never living room, always described as the parlour by his bohemian, arty mother. In those waking dreams Sylvia lay there, elegant as a 50s film starlet, dressed in nought but those shoes, stockings and corset, a cigarette smouldering between her uplifted fingers. In his mind Sylvia smiled and purred and then, shockingly, casually opened her legs to him.

As they walked along the dusky, nondescript streets of middle-class England, Justin could smell her, her particular scent, and his body reacted with Pavlovian response, his erection hard and aching. Justin blushed guiltily at the memory of her underwear, stolen during a brief moment of madness from her bedroom, and into which he'd masturbated after sniffing the febrile garment upon which a trace of her perfume ... and that other scent, the womanly whiff of her, lingered on the cloth

He wondered how she'd taste on his tongue. He imagined her nipples, thick and long between his lips as he sucked on them; the taste of her tongue when she kissed, and the molten heat of her sex as he dabbed at her in carnal exploration. He even thought about dipping an expeditionary tongue into the dot of her puckered sphincter ...

Then Justin's reverie ended, they were home. He reached into his jeans pocket, wedged his hand down past his erection, and pulled out his keys. It was at that moment it happened. Unprecedented, less for a perfunctory mwah an inch from his cheek the day she'd most recently arrived to stay, Sylvia leaned her comfortable bosom against him and kissed his cheek.

"Thank you, Justin," he heard her murmur. His cock throbbed at the low, husky voice. "You're such a gent for walking me home like this every night."

A stammered, "No problem at all, Suh ... Sus ... Sylvia." He watched the woman's swaying derriere as she ascended.

*** Unusually for her Sylvia felt a tickle of apprehension in the pit of her stomach. This could go so wrong, but she had to ask, she couldn't ... wouldn't act unless without Marion's approbation. To do so would be disrespectful; deceit just wasn't Sylvia's style. Especially towards Marion. So she waited for a response. Having grasped the nettle, never one to shy away from difficulty however awkward it may be -- it would be much more awkward, and potentially catastrophic, when they were eventually, inevitably, discovered.

Marion, sitting across from Sylvia at the table in her self-styled parlour, regarded her friend with serious eyes. She sighed, pushed her fingers through her hair, fidgeted with the wine glass for a moment or two, and then, after a swig of rioja, opened her mouth to speak. "He wrote you letters?"

"Yes. Sweet, kind letters."

A shake of Marion's head. "He would. I can just imagine him doing something like that." Marion's eyes beseeched her friend. "And you're not offended?"

A snort from Sylvia. "Me? Offended? Come on Marion, you know me better than that. Do you mind if I ...?" She held up her cigarettes and then lit one after a dismissive, it's of no consequence, nod from Marion. "I was flattered, Marion. And the letters were ... well, they're so tender and sweet. All anonymous, I hadn't a clue until something Howard said made the connection click in my head." Sylvia squirmed in her seat; the moment had arrived to ask the question. "He's a virgin, Marion," Sylvia said. "And I think he needs a ... Could do with just a little nudge ..." She balked at the last moment.

But her inference was there between them now. Marion's eyes narrowed as she deciphered Sylvia's meaning. "You're saying ..." she began. "What I think you're saying is ..." Sylvia nodded. "You and Justin ...? You and Justin doing ... Making love?"

A whisper and downcast eyes. "Yes." The moment hung between them. The longer the silence drew out the more nervous Sylvia became. Eventually, after a strong draw at her cigarette, Sylvia blurted, "Yes, Marion, I fancy your son. He's a kind, beautiful boy who's too shy to get himself a girlfriend. I'd like nothing more than to seduce him. Take him by the hand and teach him, show him properly how to make love to a woman." She drew on her cigarette again. "But if it means a rift between us, then I'd never do it. You've shown me nothing but kindness all these years. You rescued me from God-know-what on King's Cross station. Helped me get over Ray; you've helped me in all the disasters I've had with men. So, out of respect, Marion, I wanted to discuss it with you. However distasteful you may find it." Traces of Sylvia's original accent, aitch-dropping Essex, slid through the cracks of her expensive, thanks to husband number two, veneered enunciation. "E's your son after all," she added finally. Suddenly running out of steam she glared truculently at her friend. She'd said her piece, was morally vindicated. Sylvia took one last vehement drag and, after standing and rummaging in the sideboard for a suitable ashtray, crushed the remains of her cigarette into it. Her heart pounded in her ribcage, her breath came in gasps.

"No need to go on so, Sylvie," Marion responded as a hint of a smirk danced at the corners of her mouth. "I think it's a superb idea. Just what Justin needs." She sipped delicately at the wine and grinned at her friend's slack face over the glass. "You just get on with it." Marion held up a hand, palm outwards like a policeman, her eyes closed, with her face three-quarters on as though in denial. "I don't want any details and I don't want him to know I know." She smiled. "You do what you do best, Sylvie. Just be gentle with him; with his heart especially."

And so Sylvia, with Marion's consent, set about seducing Justin. Her sex pulsed and trickled its desire while she laid her plan.

*** Justin was worried. A lump of concrete, solid and somehow greasy, lay heavily in the pit of his stomach. There was something wrong. He could sense something in the air, the same instinct that warns animals of an impending earthquake. Justin scented disaster.

"Just us tonight, Justin," Sylvia had said. And there was nothing overtly wrong in that statement; no sinister inference at all.

But something wasn't right. He knew it.

It was Saturday night, his mother was out and it was Sylvia's night off. There was the usual crap on television, and Justin had planned to stay in his room, with occasional forays to the parlour for his Sylvia fix, whereupon he thought of penning a fresh note.

And Sylvia looked even better than usual tonight. Her black hair, bobbed, shone; she was lightly made-up, unusual for a casual evening in, as was her choice of clothing. Sylvia had dressed as though for work, in her too short skirt and her too tight blouse. The blouse itself was something else, unbuttoned to an unprecedented third button. If Justin angled it just right he could look down into Sylvia's cleavage to a depth never plumbed before. Dizzying and delicious, and Justin's cock was thick and hard in his jeans at the sight.




Sylvia Seduces



She smelled good too, but the disconcerting thing, even more disturbing than the shivering jellies of Sylvia's breasts, the tops of which he could clearly see displayed in the V of her décolletage, was how attentive the woman had been.

"I thought," Sylvia began in a breathy voice. "That perhaps we could eat together, share a bottle of wine -- What do you think, Justin? Good idea?" He'd squawked some inarticulate gargle, bemused and embarrassed. Sylvia had laughed then. "What's the matter, Justin? Do I make you ... uncomfortable?" Did she? -- Hell yes! Especially tonight done up as she was. Justin's erection throbbed painfully, outraged at the restriction, but Sylvia's next words caused the leaden lump of anxiety to form in Justin's guts. "I think we need to have a little talk," she'd said. "There's something we need to discuss. Clear the air."

For the next half an hour Justin fretted. As he worried in his bedroom upstairs, while Sylvia watched inanities on the telly, and with the lasagne -- pre-prepared by Sylvia earlier in the day -- baked in the oven, Justin considered running. It had to be the letters. Sylvia had sussed him and was now going to confront him. His mother was out, that was a relief. The mortification if his mother knew ... Justin rolled onto his stomach on his bed and buried his face in the pillow. He groaned as a fist of chagrin twisted his vitals.

"Shit. Oh shit. Oh fucking shit," he mumbled. Why had he done it? What possessed him to write those bloody letters? Why was he so tongue-tied and twisted with embarrassment around girls? A virgin -- still -- at nineteen! He listened to his mates at work, the shelf-stackers and deliver drivers at the supermarket where he was a trainee manager. They all boasted of conquests, and even if not all the effusive self-congratulations were true, at least a portion had to be. And Justin had nothing to contribute. Not even a single, solitary kiss.

But he'd written the letters to Sylvia. What an idiot. The dinner and wine was all about letting him down gently; Justin knew how it would go. She'd be flattered: Very sweet, darling boy -- boy, he cringed. That's what she'd say. Very sweet, darling boy. And of course she'd smile to soften the blow, maybe hold his hand, her eyes filled with sorrow. But you're much too young; I couldn't possibly be interested in a nineteen year old ... A trainee manager ... Oh no, sorry, but ... etc. And Justin would mumble a red-faced apology, eat his meal, sip the wine, and then go upstairs and die.

For her part, Sylvia had prepared the food and then herself. She took a lot more time and care and deliberation with herself. For clothing she went for obvious; her signature of legs and tits, with emphasis on the tits. A long bath, during which she resisted the urge to touch herself. "Patience," she counselled as the bubbles foamed around her. "Don't be a greedy bitch. It'll be so much better later." Sylvia had meticulously depilated her legs and most of the jungle of her naturally thick, still black -- no grey hairs yet -- pubic bush. For decoration she left a neat, triangular tuft at the apex of her slit. "A conversation piece," she giggled to herself as fingers of anticipation tickled her freshly smooth vulva. Light make-up, nothing too tarty, a mist of perfume, and then she dressed. Stockings -- men were so predictable and easily pleased -- a corset in which to wrap the girls and perhaps to hide just a hint of middle-age. Sylvia pushed thoughts of her years out of her mind. "Looking delectable," she told her reflection. "Good enough to eat ... I hope." She grinned at herself and slid her feet into the towering heels. "Still got it," she assured herself.

And indeed she had, if Justin's boggling eyes told the truth when he reappeared from the den into which he crawled. Sylvia silently congratulated herself when she saw him framed in the parlour doorway.

"A glass of wine before we eat?" Sylvia asked. Her eyebrows raised in question as she held the bottle aloft. A nod from the boy and she poured, noting that he avoided her eyes. "Dinner's ready. I thought we could have a little talk before we ate."

Shit, Justin thought. Here it comes. But there was nowhere he could go. Even if he bolted now, there would only be a next time. As scared as he was he pulled the chair reluctantly from under the dining table and sat down, with the air of a condemned man at his last meal.

"Why the long face?" Sylvia asked, eying Justin over the rim of her glass. His eyes slid away. "Something on your mind," she teased, knowing full well. She reached out and touched Justin's hand, lightly tracing loose circles with her finger. The boy's breath caught in his throat. "Those letters," Sylvia whispered.

There it was, the accusation. But Justin's concentration was divided. Her knowledge that he'd authored the letters was one thing, but uppermost in his mind at that moment was the physical contact -- her finger on the back of his hand. Justin froze, barely able to breathe. His heart raced and his penis, independently-minded screamed at him to kiss her, rip the buttons from her blouse and bury his head in that delicious cleavage ... acres of creamy flesh!

But he just sat there, immobile and inarticulate, disabled by crippling anxiety. What does she want me to do? he thought, unable, as ever, to interpret a woman's mood, to read the signals. She didn't seem upset by the letters, in fact every sign so far indicated that Sylvia intended to seduce him -- the wine, the meal, those tits ...

But Justin just never knew which way to go. Innate, over-developed shyness made him inarticulate, a stumbling, red-faced fool in potentially romantic situations.

"I know you wrote me those letters," Sylvia continued. Both her hands covered Justin's now. "Look at me," she ordered, suddenly stern. Somehow, with great effort, Justin's eyes levelled with Sylvia's. "And I'm flattered." The words he didn't want to hear. He knew what was to follow. "A good-looking, intelligent young man writes to me like Lord Byron, and sends them anonymously ... Why of course that's going to pique a woman's interest. Even an old biddy like me."

"You're not old!" Justin blurted, surprising himself. His eyes fell from Sylvia's. "You're ..." He hesitated.

"Go on," Justin, Sylvia whispered, her hands squeezing his gently. "Tell me. Just like in a letter. Tell me it all. I think the letters are beautiful. So full of feeling. And, Justin," her tone grew stern again. The young man looked up, stared right at her face as she spoke. "I want you to tell me what you're feeling, what's on your mind -- all of it. I won't laugh, I promise you. I want you to tell me, honestly, what you want from me."

She saw the youth struggle. She lifted a hand to his cheek, knowing that the movement would cause her top to gape. Justin's eyes flicked to her breasts. Sylvia squirmed against the hard wooden chair. Come on, she urged him silently. Come on, you're fucking killing me here. For an instant Sylvia considered that Justin could be playing her, that he might be the consummate cocksman and just be teasing. My cunt's growling, boy. Can't you fucking hear it? Can't you smell it? 

But, of course, he was just a scared virgin, callow and way out of his depth. All she heard was the youth mumble: "I think you're beautiful."

Sylvia fought down a scream of frustration. With great effort she managed: "When I was nineteen ..." Sylvia decided, on the spur of the moment, on a different approach. '... I had a friend, Valerie." She reached for her glass and sipped. "Valerie found an advert for models one day. In a local paper. So we answered it. We found out it was for some glamour stuff, nude an' that." Justin noticed Sylvia's diction had suddenly slipped from the precise 'parlour accent' his mother used to something more ... natural, less contrived. "Well both me an' Valerie weren't put off by showing our boobs, maybe flashing some fur, but when we got to the grotty flat it turned out to be more."

Jesus Christ! Where was Sylvia going with this?

"It turned out to be a porn shoot. And I tell you what, Justin ..." Sylvia sipped at the wine again, regarding the boy over the glass, judging his reaction. Justin just stared at her, open-mouthed. "I tell you what, Justin," she continued, "the thought of it, fucking two strangers ... I melted there an' then. Valerie was a bit put off but I talked her round."

Sylvia went on, between sips of wine, to recount the story of the faux wedding. She told the boy about the dress, Valerie being the bride, and how she'd loved being fucked simultaneously -- "One in my mouth and one in my cunt" -- by two men.

"I was so frustrated," she said finally. "I hadn't come. We just posed mostly, for the camera. The boys got to come all right. Of course they did. That was the point. My tits got a good covering, Val took a load inside ... Shit 'erself for weeks she did. Thought she'd be up the duff ... Dunno why, the silly cow was on the pill. Still ..." She shrugged. "But I was desperate to get off ... So I fucked the cameraman." Sylvia paused then. She looked at Justin, a statue, his face a mask of shock. "Just like I'm desperate now, Justin." Sylvia laid her cards on the table. "I want to fuck, she said." And she could have laughed, really guffawed. If Justin could only see his own face ... "Let's go upstairs, Justin," she gently said instead.

Justin was shocked. Partly in light of the revelations Sylvia had imparted, but mostly from when, after her candid disclosure, she leaned right across the table and, almost upsetting the wine bottle with her bosom, kissed Justin's mouth. The youth didn't react, just sat with his lips together, too stunned to move.

"Come on, Justin," Sylvia coaxed. Her stockings swished and the heels click-clacked woodenly as she stood and walked around the table. "Please. Don't turn me down." She ran her fingers through Justin's hair. He blinked up at her. "Don't worry, I'll show you what to do. It'll be fine. You'll have a good time. I promise."

She knew about the letters, had posed for dirty pictures, and she had intuited his virginal status. This was a lot to process at once. But she was offering herself! "Sylvie ..."

"Shh. Don't say anything. Just stand up and kiss me." The boy stood uncertainly at the gentle exhortation. Sylvia noticed his trembling. She moved close to him and pressed her body against his. "Kiss me, Justin," she breathed.

Justin's eyes were wide open as his lips parted. He felt the pressure of Sylvia's lips against his, and then felt her tongue slide into his mouth. His hands came up of their own accord. He heard Sylvia's moan of encouragement and squeezed her breasts through the double barrier of her clothing and corset. The urgency of his kissing increased as desire burned in him. "Really?" he gasped when at last the kiss broke. "You really—"

"—Yes, really, I really want to do it, Justin. I want to do it with you, all of it, anything you want to do ... Anything." To emphasise the point, Sylvia ran her palm along the front of Justin's jeans. He gasped and looked down at his open flies after Sylvia unzipped him. Her fingers deftly unbuckled the belt and, before he knew what was happening, fished his erection from within. "Lovely," Sylvia purred. "Nice and thick and hard." She smiled into Justin's face. "You seem pleased to see me," Sylvia quipped. They kissed again. The boy's hands moved urgently over Sylvia's clothed body. He felt her breasts again, ran his palms down along her flanks and scooped her buttocks in his palms. "You're not so shy now, are you darling?" Sylvia teased. "But let's get you out of those jeans. Let me get a good look at you. I want to see your big cock and swinging balls."

"Sylvia ... Jesus ... No ... It ..." Nevertheless, even as he babbled and blinked, shocked and confused, Justin somehow contrived to divest himself of most of his clothing.

The woman stepped back, a forefinger at her chin with her head tilted in appraisal. "Oh yes," she smiled. "Oh yes indeed." She stepped towards the youth, grasping his waggling erection as she did. "Unbutton my top," she ordered in a growl. "Undo my skirt ..." The lad complied, gasping when Sylvia kicked her skirt away with a tut of annoyance and squeezed his cock.

"Beautiful," he moaned when he looked down and saw the tuft of pubic hair decorating the woman's prominent mons. "Oh shit ..." A groan from Justin at the fingers massaging his stalk.

"You're beautiful too, darling." Sylvia, still in the heels, moved around the boy's body and pressed her considerable breasts against his back. Then she knelt, kissing the boy's buttocks as she reached between his legs. First she cupped the hanging scrotum, lifting Justin's balls in her palm. "How much stuff do you have for me in here," she asked before releasing the wrinkled, hairy sac and gripping the jib of hard gristle that jutted arrogantly from the boy's front... "I'm going to wank this till you come," she murmured, stroking the length slowly. Sylvia let go and stood. "No use fucking just now. Two pumps and a squirt -- game over," she said. "And I want this to last all night, you beautiful bastard." She positioned herself in front of the young man again. As her tongue pushed into his mouth, and his hands came up automatically to squeeze the abundance of tit-flesh, Sylvia's fist moved along Justin's length. The boy swallowed and groaned. His eyes closed. "Just let Sylvia take care of you," she whispered into his ear. "Just stand there and let me do all the work. Just concentrate on how good it feels. And then think of how much more pleasure there'll be when we fuck. Because ..." she paused and licked Justin's nipple. "... Because," Sylvia continued, "I am going to fuck you."

With one hand masturbating him towards his climax, Sylvia curled her other arm around Justin's shoulder, pulling him tight against her flank. She watched Justin's face, saw him grimace with the sublime feelings pulsing through his cock. She smiled when the boy's eyes opened, glazed and lost until they focussed on Sylvia's face.

"How did I get here?" he groaned, his eyes questioning. "How? Sylvia ... I ... Oh ... It feels so good ..." Then, in a whisper he repeated: "Feels so good. So. Fucking. Good. Your tits," he mumbled, eyeing the wobbling jugs.

"Because you were so sweet to me," Sylvia explained. "You're such a darling young man, and I know you're shy, so I thought I'd help you along." She kissed his cheek tenderly. "Just you relax, Justin. Don't worry about a thing. I'll take care of you; I'll take care of you tonight and any other night as long as I stay here. We can do ... things, Justin. Would you like that? Do you think we could have a little fun together?"

Her hand on his cock ... And her tits and her legs and her shoes ... and the stockings ... She was doing this with him. It was all really happening. To him! Sylvia and him and the things she was saying. "Sylvia," Justin groaned. "I think I love you, Sylvia."

"Lust, Justin," she corrected. "Trust me, just pure, animal lust. Men have always wanted me as their plaything. It's something I put out there ... a scent or a sign of some sort. I dunno, Maybe it's me big tits?" Sylvia lapsed into her old Essex diction again, "I dunno what they see, but they see sumfink'." She laughed, squeezing the boy's girth as she did. "An' it looks like you see it too, Justin. Look at you all hot and bovvered." Her face grew serious as she stared into Justin's eyes. "But we can talk about that later. Right now we've got to sort you out. And then, when you've come ..." Sylvia ran her hand across Justin's chest. She kissed him again. And the hand around the erection began to move more quickly. "When you've come for me, we can fuck ..."

"Yes," the lad sighed as his head lolled forward loose on his neck. "Yes please, I'd ... Oh ... Sylvia!"

Sylvia gave her own cry of delight as the boy grunted hugely, convulsing, and shooting long arc of semen in a high parabola that spattered against the wood of the parquet floor.

"Let it come," Sylvia urged, her eyes bright with excitement and her insides clenching with lust. "Just let it spit, darling boy. Just feel it, all that gorgeous spunk coming out of you ..."

And the stuff just kept coming, spurt after spurt of relief gushing from the slit in Justin's cock head. The boy gabbled nonsense; his hips jerked and he fucked Sylvia's fist. Eventually, as the final ooze trickled from him Justin stood gasping and wide-eyed as Sylvia, with a mewl of arousal, moved to kneel in front of him. With pressure from her hand the youth pushed his hips forward, leaving the opportunity there for Sylvia to pop the still erect cock into her mouth.

Sylvia's concave cheeks and quick tongue sucked and licked the gloop from the boy. He looked down at her as she grinned up at him from around his girth. 

I'm in her mouth, he thought. She's sucking my cock. He looked at the mess on the floor. She wanked me off. And then the full realisation hit him and his heart soared. Jubilant he recalled her promise: She was going to fuck him!

"You dirty boy," Sylvia scolded, grinning as she wiped her mouth indelicately with the back of a hand. Her eyes shone. "I think we should go to my bedroom. We'll be much more comfy on my bed. Are you ready?"

An enthusiastic nod from Justin and they left the food to cool and the wine to warm.

Halfway up the stairs, unable to contain himself as Sylvia's naked buttocks swayed provocatively in front of his face, Justin made a grab for the woman's hips.

Laughing she turned. "Easy tiger, in these heels I have to be a bit careful." Justin saw her face twist into an expression of lust. "Lick me," she commanded, sitting on a riser and opening her legs. 'Lick my cunt."Justin gasped at the obscenity but found himself turned on by her use of it and the way her legs so casually fell apart to reveal the gaping, sodden invitation. "Come on," Sylvia barked. "Kneel. Get down there and lick it. Kiss it until I ... Oh, fuck ..." Justin's hot breath wafted across her smooth labia. His tongue slid over the nub of her clitoris and she swore again. Then, with moans and mewls and subtle movements of her hips, Sylvia coached the youth in how to use his mouth and tongue on her body. "Fingers," she panted, her face a gargoyle grimace as she resisted the inevitable. "Finger me ... Put two in. Rub me inside. Don't stop licking! Finger me and lick me and ..." 

Sylvia came. She pushed Justin's face against her sex, grinding her body against his nose, his mouth, his fucking forehead as the glorious tide washed over her. "Oh. My. God," she gasped, chest heaving, breasts trembling. 'That was divine!" She saw Justin's smeared face and noticed his slack-jawed expression as he eyed her tits. "Yes, she grinned, holding the girls up for Justin's appraisal. "The boys love Sylvia's big tits." She offered a nipple to him, grinning at his expression. "Upstairs. On the bed. I'll ride you and you can suck my tits. Yes?"

And so Justin lost his virginity to a woman decades older than he; a woman infinitely more experienced, but who, true to her word, rode him and let him suck her big jugs until, to her surprise, he elicited a groaning, hip-jerking climax from her.

"Oh, God, darling," Sylvia moaned as the boy eased into her in the good old missionary position. "I think I'm going to have so much fun with you." Justin began to move; and Sylvia lifted her hips to meet his thrust. "Fill me with jizm," she sighed. "Kiss me and just pour it into me."

So he did.



Sylvia's Early Exhibitionism



Rae has been my best friend as long as I can remember. She is from a well-off family with a swimming pool and we were inseparable as we were growing up. We often had sleep-over's at each other's home and spent many hours discussing sex in all its mysterious variations, at least from our inexperienced perspective. We had both long agreed that her father, Rob, was just about the sexiest man imaginable and he was devoted to Rae and by default to me. I began to fantasize about him, wondering if he might be peeking down my top or checking up my skirt, but I never actually caught him doing it. While lounging around their pool I sometimes found myself wondering if he was scanning my body from behind his sunglasses and secretly began to hope he was.

At school and around my friends, I found myself being more casual about leaving my legs spread and bending over a little more to allow better views, if anyone happened to show interest me. During our high school years I developed much slower than Rae but by the end of our senior year I began to catch up, then almost overnight lost my baby-fat and felt I had finally developed a woman's body instead of a girls'. I'll admit I became pretty impressed with myself and enjoyed all the attention I was attracting from the boys.

The summer before we were due to leave for college, both Rae and I celebrated our birthday by driving across the state line to where the legal drinking age was 18. We got really hammered and just barely made it home safely, probably one of the dumbest things we had ever done together. When we admitted it to Rae's parents the next morning they were understandably mad at us and insisted that in the future if we were going to drink, we do it at home and stay out of cars and off the highway. From then on they treated us like adults and we felt totally grown up and comfortable around them, even sharing a glass of wine at dinner or having a couple of beers during their barbeques.

As that summer wound down and we prepared to go off to college, Rae invited me for one last sleep-over. The weather had been gloriously warm and we spent all day by the pool, feeling free to raid her dad's supply of beer more often than we probably should have. Knowing it was the last time I was going to be seeing him for a long time and definitely feeling the effects of the beer, I became even more flirty than usual. I deliberately began to tease him, but always making it look accidental. Of course Rae was well aware of what I was doing and could barely contain herself from giggling. When I rubbed suntan lotion on my chest I let my bikini top slip down enough to almost expose the tops of my nipples and then I would take my time pulling it back up until I knew he had the opportunity for a good look.

When Rae said she was going inside to get us another drink, she winked at me and whispered that she would take her time. Soon after she was gone I asked Rob to come over and rub some suntan lotion on my back. He jumped up as I turned over onto my stomach and sprawled out on the chaise lounge, reaching back and casually untying my straps for him. I crossed my arms in front of me and used them as a pillow—knowing full-well it would completely expose the sides of my breasts. He poured way more lotion than he needed and began spreading it generously from my neck down to my bikini, barely skirting the crease of my ass before sliding back up along the sides of my ribcage to my shoulders. Each time his hands came closer to my breasts I would sigh and raise up slightly, just enough to make him wonder if I was doing it deliberately or not. He was definitely getting excited—I could feel his hands trembling slightly and I'm sure he knew I was getting turned on, too. I felt a rush the first time his fingers actually brushed along the sides of my breasts and I let out a low moan, but before he could touch them again Rae came out of the house and he quickly shifted his attention to the backs of my legs instead. Nothing more happened that afternoon although I could feel the tingling thrill of his fingertips on my breasts all day. That evening we all shared a bottle of wine at the family dinner, watched a couple of old movies on TV and went to bed quite late.

I woke up in the middle of the night and couldn't go back to sleep. I slipped out of bed quietly so as to not wake Rae and went to the bathroom, then on a whim wandered down to the family room. The door was slightly ajar and there was a light flickering from the TV, but no sound or other light in the room. Thinking we might have left it on by mistake, I pushed the door open silently and walked in to discover a soft-core porno flick playing on the TV and Rob sprawled out on the couch with his pajamas spread wide open, slowly pumping his hard cock. His eyes were glued to the screen and he didn't notice me watching him as I stood there, shocked but fascinated by the scene before me. It was the first time I'd ever seen a live man jacking off, even though I'd watched it on web-sites and had even played with a couple of my boyfriend's cocks. I must have made some kind of involuntary noise because he suddenly looked back and saw me standing there. He jumped up, pulling his pajamas together and stammering, "Oh my god, Sylvia. I'm so sorry."

I managed to mumble something inane like, "Uhh, that's okay . . . it's my fault," and hastily backed out and returned to the bedroom. I crawled into bed next to Rae and lay there listening to her sleep, my heart pumping like crazy. I was so excited and horny it was all I could do to keep from masturbating, but I was afraid I'd wake her up if I did. I lay there most of the night thinking about Rob, replaying in my mind what I had seen and wondering what we would say to each other when I saw him in the morning.

When Rae and I walked into the kitchen for breakfast he was sitting at the table drinking coffee and Rae's mom sang out a cheery, "Good Morning. How'd you sleep, girls?"

Rae just said, "Okay," and I glanced at Rob before I answered. I could see the fear in his eyes and knew I had him 'by the balls,' so to speak.

I looked at her and said, "Great!" Then I looked right in his eyes and smiled broadly and added, "And I even had a wonderful dream." The relief on his face was obvious and he even managed a faint smile back.

Later that year when I was home from college on Spring Break, Rae invited me to stay over again. It was the first time I'd seen Rob since that exciting night and I had never told her about what I had seen her dad doing. We giggled for hours after going to bed, getting caught up on all our secrets too personal to have shared via email or phone, discussing our dates and boyfriends and our respective colleges. We'd both lost our virginity since we last saw each other so we had lots and lots of titillating stories to share. We awoke late Saturday to find an unseasonably warm day and while eating brunch Rae begged her dad to open the pool early for the season. He was reluctant at first, saying it was way too early, but since he could never say 'no' to either Rae or me he finally relented. I had a sneaking suspicion that the chance to see me half naked by the pool again weighed heavily into his decision, too.

Late that afternoon he came to our room and told us the pool was ready for us to jump in. I blurted out that I hadn't brought a bathing suit and he just shrugged and told me to borrow one of Rae's. She quickly agreed and said, "Sure, no problem."

I shrugged my shoulders and said, "Okay, why not? We'll be right out."

Rae reached into her drawer and pulled out a couple of bikinis and quickly started to undress. She grinned naughtily when she handed one to me, saying it was pretty old but it would do the trick. Because I needed to go to the bathroom before changing, I didn't pay any attention to it and by the time I got back to the room she had gone out to the pool.

I stripped and started to put on the suit. The bottoms were tight but stretchy enough to wiggle into, and when I looked in the mirror I was glad I'd been waxing my landing strip, since it was barely covered. My breasts had definitely grown larger than Rae's and I could quickly tell there was going to be more of a problem with the top. When I put it on I definitely faced more challenging logistics—it was way too small. I loosened the straps to try for more coverage but when I pulled the cups together to minimize my cleavage the sides of my breasts became completely bare. I also quickly realized the lining was so thin it would emphasize my nipples more than hide them when it got wet. It was the skimpiest suit I had ever worn and I was more than a little nervous about having Rob see me in it, but more than a little excited, too. I took another look in the mirror and grinned to myself before marching bravely out to the pool.

Imagine my disappointment to discover Rob wasn't there. Rae and I splashed around for an hour or so and then flopped onto the chase lounges to work on our tans. At some point she looked over and examined how her old suit looked on my body. Her eyes almost popped out and she grinned wickedly. "Wow" she said.

I looked down and—wow, indeed—it was as revealing as I thought it would be.

"I picked that suit for you on purpose," she confessed, "but I didn't realize it would look that hot." We giggled and she said it was a shame her dad wasn't there to appreciate how perky I looked. "I know he'd love checking 'em out," she giggled, nodding her head at my protruding nipples. I was feeling really naughty and admitted I was sorry he wasn't there too, and teasingly admitted that I'd also love to see his reaction. Rae quickly picked up on my sexy bravado and dared me to go in the house and get us another beer, saying she thought her dad was probably in the kitchen getting ready to barbeque. She knew me well enough to know that I've always hated to pass on a dare, and of course I was secretly hoping he would be there so I jumped up and went inside.

He wasn't in the kitchen but after I grabbed the beer and started back I met him as he was walking out of the living room. We were in the hall and I stopped in front of him with a beer in each hand, not moving except for my chest heaving as he stood there and silently stared at me. This time he made no pretense of NOT looking; he almost devoured me with his eyes. I watched him look back and forth from breast to breast for what seemed like an eternity until I finally managed to 'apologize' by saying, "Uhh, I guess Rae's old suit is a little too small for me, huh?"

"No . . . no," he said, "It's great." He looked up at me when he answered, but then very deliberately dropped his eyes back to my breasts. "Actually," he stammered, "it looks beautiful on you." He grinned wickedly and added, "It brings out your best points."

I giggled and felt myself blush as I very quietly said, "Why, thank you, kind sir. I'm glad you like it."

We heard Rae calling for her beer from outside so I moved slowly past him and walked down the hall, making sure to wiggle my ass as provocatively as I knew how. Rae looked at me conspiratorially as I walked toward her and I knew I must have been grinning like a Cheshire cat. "He noticed," I said simply, and we both fell into a fit of laughing.

An hour or so later Rob came out to the pool deck and told me that my Mother was on the phone and wanted to talk to me. I jumped up and bounced past him to the kitchen where she told me she wasn't feeling well and wanted me to come home early. Rob had followed me back into the kitchen and was standing there watching while I held the phone. I was fully aware that he was enjoying the view and I could feel my nipples harden even more under his gaze. I hung up and told him I had to leave right away and asked him if he'd go tell Rae while I gathered up my stuff and got changed. He looked disappointed but said "Sure," and walked out toward the pool. I went into Rae's bedroom and deliberately left the door open as I started to throw my things into my backpack. I was secretly hoping he'd come right back in, knowing full-well that he'd be able to look in and see me if he did.

I took the suit bottoms off and slipped into my panties and jeans, then reached behind me and untied my bra-top in the back. I let it fall forward and started reaching up to lift the halter strap over my head when I heard the slider door open. I hesitated, wondering if it would be him or Rae and secretly hoping it would be him. I stood frozen like that for what seemed like an eternity, with my breasts barely shielded by the clingy material. I finally sensed someone was there and glanced toward the door. Sure enough, Rob was standing in the hall looking in with such a look of rapture on his face I knew instantly that he was totally in my power and that I had to let him see all of me. I slowly lifted the suit over my head; let it slide down my arms and into my hands. I hesitated for just a moment and then deliberately turned directly toward him and dropped it to the floor. My arms hung against my sides and I stood there proudly, my chest heaving and giving him a full-on view.

His eyes were glued to my breasts, his mouth open. I could feel my hands shaking like a leaf and my nipples felt like they were about to explode. As we stood there staring at each other his hand moved slowly, almost unconsciously to his crotch. My eyes followed it and were greeted by the sight of his hard cock straining against the thin material of his running shorts. I watched as he began to touch himself, rubbing the outline of his erection as it quickly grew before my eyes. I let my hands slide up to cup and squeeze my breasts, not surprised to feel how hard my nipples had become. My cunt felt like it was on fire and I could hardly refrain from plunging my fingers into it. He took a hesitant step toward me but before we touched, we heard the door from the pool slide open.

Rob bolted instantly, disappearing in a flash. I grabbed my bra and was clumsily trying to hook it up when Rae popped through the open door and into the room. I finished dressing and threw the rest of my stuff in my backpack, trying to avoid her gaze. She looked at me quizzically and I knew I must have looked flushed, but I just mumbled something about my Mom and she nodded her head and didn't say anything. I kissed her lightly on the cheek and left, telling her I'd call later.

As I went to the front door Rob was standing there looking nervous. I could tell he was afraid I might say something to Rae and was terrified of what could happen. I looked down at his shorts and saw a small wet spot where his erection had previously been so obvious and I felt an incredible rush. For the first time in my life I understood the power women have over men and I instantly felt a surge of self-confidence and knew I was going to use it on him again. "You better change those shorts before Rae notices," I whispered. As I stepped past him, I let my fingers brush lightly against his crotch. He smiled weakly and I winked and walked away.

Later, when Rae and I were talking, she mentioned that she'd noticed I seemed flustered when I was leaving her room. She came right out and asked what it was, saying she suspected it must've had something to do with her dad. I grinned and said that I hadn't been flustered—I'd just been really turned on.

She instantly knew that I'd let him see me changing. "You little slut," she grinned and we both broke into laughter.



Sylvia's Fantasy Cums True



The cold, dismal afternoon seemed like it was wearing on forever. Sylvia sat at her little student desk trying valiantly to make some sense out of the calculus problems in front of her, cursing the day she let her advisor talk her into signing up for the damn class. Mathematics had never been one of her strong suits and calculus was proving to be way over her head.

The telephone next to her suddenly rang, startling her more than she could believe. No one had called all week and she'd almost come to accept the silence of her tiny apartment as the new norm in her life. She had thought that saying goodbye to her roommates and staying alone during the Christmas break to get caught up on her studies was a good idea when she decided to do it, but the last few days of quiet and loneliness had started to really get to her.

"Hello."

"Sylvia? Is that you?"

The man's voice on the phone when she answered sounded familiar, but she couldn't quite place it. She hesitated a moment and he asked again, this time more tentatively.

"Sylvia? Is that you? It's Rob, Rae's father."

"Oh my god, Rob—Hi! I can't believe you're calling me." There was no mistaking the excitement in her voice as she greeted him. If he only knew how often she'd fantasized about him calling her and the erotic scenarios she had imagined, he would probably die of embarrassment.

"I'm at the airport hotel, just passing through town and I remembered that Rae mentioned you might be staying here over the break. I thought I'd check in and see if you're okay or if you need anything." He talked faster than she remembered and sounded somewhat nervous. "I hope you don't mind me calling."

"Oh gosh no, Rob. Not in the least." Sylvia took a deep breath and lowered her voice, trying to sound like the young girl he knew in the past. "I've been feeling really lonely and it's wonderful to hear from you. How long are you going to be in town?" 

"Oh, just until tomorrow. But I thought I'd check in and see if you might like to have dinner or something."

Sylvia could hardly keep from giggling at the, 'or-something.' Oh brother, she thought. The 'or-somethings' she'd played out in her mind over the years . . .

"Oh Rob, I'd love to. I can't think of anything I'd rather do. Thank you for thinking about me."

The relief in Rob's voice was evident. "There's a restaurant across from the hotel where I'm staying called Lombardi's that looks pretty nice, ever hear anything about it? I don't have a car but I'll pay for your taxi if you want to meet there."

"I've heard it's really fancy, but of course on a poor student's budget I've never been there," she laughed. "It'll be a real treat for me. Just tell me what time you want me there."

Sylvia rushed into the bathroom and started the shower. She could hardly believe how excited she felt as she shampooed her hair, slathering on conditioner and carefully shaving her legs, her underarms and her tiny, carefully sculpted landing strip. She lovingly spread her best perfumed lotion over her entire body, watching herself with satisfaction in the full-length mirror as she worked. She looked good, she knew. No freshman-forty for her. Her weight was still the same as it was in high school and she was still as firm and in shape as she'd ever been.

After drying her stylish Bob, she picked a black lacy thong out of her drawer and slipped it up her smooth legs, snuggling the tiny strap deep into her ass and enjoying how sexy it made her feel. She chose a fairly conservative white silk blouse and quickly buttoned it over her naked breasts. Conservative on the outside, she grinned, but delightfully naughty when worn braless. Stepping into her favorite black leather mini-skirt, she zipped it carefully over her tucked-in blouse and looked with satisfaction at her reflection. Stylish black high-heel pumps finished off her ensemble and accentuated her long legs, making her breasts jiggle delightfully when she walked.

"If he isn't impressed with this outfit," she grinned, "he's not the Rob who used to ogle me every time he had the chance."

He was waiting patiently at the curb when her cab pulled up. He opened the door to help her, his eyes quickly darting to her long legs as her skirt provocatively hiked up when she stepped out. Holding his hand as she steadied herself on her high heels, she leaned into him and gave him a quick, daughterly kiss on the lips. He looked startled but immensely pleased, grinning from ear to ear as he paid the cabbie.

"It's so good to see you again, Sylvia." He took her arm and led her into Lombardi's. "I requested a nice quiet table so we can have a chance to talk and get caught up."

They followed the hostess through the busy restaurant to a small, more intimate back room. He helped her slip off her light blazer and draped it over the back of her chair before sitting down across from her. As she picked up her napkin Sylvia caught his eyes glance down to her chest and then quickly back up. She smiled to herself, pleased that he still couldn't keep from looking at her.

"How long has it been since I've seen you?" Rob asked.

"Almost four years," Sylvia responded. "The last time was when I stayed overnight with Rae during our freshman year. I'm a senior now and hoping to graduate this spring . . . IF I pass my damn math class," she laughed.

Shaking his head slowly he continued to gaze into her eyes. "I can't believe it's been that long." He smiled and settled back into his chair, finally looking a little more relaxed. "You've grown into a beautiful young woman, Sylvia." He leaned toward her, lowering his voice. "Even more lovely than I imagined as I watched you growing up."

"And you really did watch me as I was growing up, didn't you? Sylvia grinned.

Rob's discomfort was immediate, a flush creeping hotly up his cheeks. He started to stammer something but was interrupted by the waiter busily filling their water glasses and asking about their drink preference. He quickly ordered a bottle of Chardonnay and began to scan the menu, carefully avoiding any eye contact.

When the waiter finished and slipped away Sylvia picked up her wine glass and held it out toward him, as if she was going to propose a toast.

"You don't have to blush, Rob," she whispered. "I knew you were always checking me out and I enjoyed every minute of it." She reached her hand out and placed it over his. She took a sip of her wine and softly continued. "That day you saw me taking off my bikini wasn't exactly an accident, you know." Sylvia smiled and gazed directly into his eyes. "I did it deliberately."

The relief on Rob's face was evident. He squeezed her fingers gently, still unable to say anything.

Sylvia took another drink of wine and sat back into her chair, crossing her legs and picking up her menu. Without looking at him, she began to read the appetizer list out loud. Between the bacon-stuffed mushrooms and the deep-fried zucchini, she innocently ad-libbed, "I really loved having you look at me that day, Rob."

She continued reading to the end of the list as he sat and watched her in amazement. When he still didn't say anything, she looked directly into his eyes and softly added, "I still do."

Their waiter returned before he could respond and they proceeded to order and eat their dinner. Conversation was stilted at first but by the time each had finished a second glass of wine they loosened up and were talking like old times. They caught up on how Rae was doing at her college, how Rob's business brought him to town and the general health of their mutual acquaintances. Rob relaxed enough to take full advantage of her implied invitation and regularly admired Sylvia's breasts, her nipples clearly visible through the thin material of her blouse.

The attentive waiter soon returned to whisk away their plates and offer them the dessert menu, recommending a chocolate-raspberry concoction that he promised would be the most decadent thing they had ever tasted.

Sylvia quickly declined, shaking her head and thanking him. "If it's all the same with you, Rob," she laughed, "I'd prefer getting my decadence from other means."

Rob grinned back, a questioning look on his face.

"Why don't we walk over to the hotel and raid your room's honor bar. I'm sure we can find a nice dessert wine in there."

At his fifth-floor hotel room door, Sylvia watched with amusement as Rob struggled to get his key-card to work. His nervousness had returned with her suggestion they go to his room and had increased the closer they got to his door. She playfully pushed him aside and took the card from his fingers, turned it to the correct orientation and slid it down the lock. The little green light instantly blinked a welcoming invitation to enter and she pushed the door open and led the way inside. Rob reached for the switch and flooded the room with light as Sylvia took of her blazer and dropped it on the chair next to the door.

"Make yourself comfortable, Sylvia," he said. "I'll see what I can find in the fridge." Sylvia watched Rob cross the small suite and crouch down before the honor bar. Again, he had trouble making the card-key work but finally got the door open and fumbled through the bottles. He selected a bottle of chilled chardonnay, stood up, turned around and nearly dropped it with shock when he looked at Sylvia.

"Well, you to told me to 'make myself comfortable,'" she grinned.

She had stripped her blouse off and was sitting in the sofa next to the desk with her long legs crossed and one hand resting comfortably on the overstuffed arms, the other toying with the hem of her skirt. Her bare breasts were staring impudently at him, their slight rising and falling the only sign that she wasn't totally relaxed herself.

Rob stood motionless, his mouth literally hanging open in surprise, his eyes locked onto her nipples. The only thing he was finally able to whimper was, "My God, Sylvia . . . you're beautiful."

Sylvia watched him admiring her breasts for what seemed like hours. Finally, barely loud enough for him to hear, she whispered, "Thank you, Rob." She smiled and took a deep breath, causing her breasts to lift even closer to his gaze. "I'm glad you like what you see. I've wanted you to see me like this for a long, long time." Suddenly feeling more playful, she continued. "Now why don't you open that damn wine and pour us a drink?"

Rob's difficulty at finding a corkscrew and opening the bottle was not made any easier by the distraction of her nakedness, but he finally popped the cork and managed to fill two glasses without spilling any. He picked up the glasses and started toward her when she put her hand up in an undeniable 'stop' motion.

"Wait," she commanded. Sylvia pointed to the small table next to the bed. "Put them over there on the nightstand."

When Rob had set the glasses down he turned to face her again, an expectant and somewhat frightened look on his face.

"Turn on that little light and the overhead one off," she ordered gently.

Sylvia watched as he obediently followed her suggestion. The room became bathed with a soft light from next to the bed; giving a much warmer and more romantic feel to the room. He retuned to stand nervously next to the bed, gazing back and forth from her breasts to her eyes, expectantly waiting for her to say more.

"Rob," she finally continued. "I want you to take your clothes off."

He stood motionless, unable to believe what she was saying.

"Don't say anything," Sylvia purred. "Don't even think about it, just do it." When he failed to move, she whispered throatily, "Do it for me."

Rob took a quick drink of his wine and began to move like a robot, slowly and jerkily. Unsure of himself and not fully believing that he was actually following her orders, he proceeded to self-consciously drop his shoes and socks, shirt and tie, and finally, and very reluctantly, his slacks. He hesitated again, standing in front of her now covered only by his boxer shorts, their thin material straining to contain his raging erection.

Sylvia intently watched his every movement, her excitement growing with each article of clothing he removed. She loved the feeling of power that was surging through her body and she knew she was about to fulfill a fantasy she had held for years.

"Look at how hard my nipples are, Rob, and I haven't even touched them yet." She began to caress her breasts sensually, all the time staring directly at his crotch. "Take off your shorts and sit on the bed. I want to look at you the way you're looking at me."

Rob took a deep breath before pulling his shorts slowly down his legs, stepping awkwardly out of them and kicking them away with a new-found bravado. Finally bursting free from the constraint of his shorts, his cock pulsed and jerked upward, nearly reaching his navel. He knew his cock was larger than average and he had always been inordinately proud of it and was pleased to see the delight grow in Sylvia's eyes as she gazed at it.

He sat back on the edge of the bed as she had ordered and watched Sylvia slowly stand up and walk across the room toward him, still wearing her high heels. She stopped a few feet away, lowered the zipper on her skirt and let it drop to the floor. She stood before him a moment, letting him drink in the vision of her black panties before turning around and bending sensually to pick it up off the floor, knowing full-well that his eyes would be devouring the strip of cloth between her ass cheeks. She turned back toward him and shimmied the tiny thong down her legs, stepping nonchalantly toward him and leaving the flimsy material crumpled on the deep carpet. She reached out and put her hands on his thighs and dropped to her knees before him. Looking up into his eyes for a long moment, she finally bent forward and silently took his cock in both hands and guided it to her lips, kissing it gently before sucking it deep into her mouth.

"Oh God," he panted. "I've fantasized about this so often." Rob held her head in his hands, guiding her motions as she slowly and rhythmically bobbed her mouth down the length of his shaft. "I never thought it could actually happen, that you might've wanted it too."

Sylvia leaned back, letting his cock slip wetly out of her mouth. She held it in both hands and looked up into his eyes. She grinned wickedly as she slowly licked it like a big, pink Popsicle, her tongue teasing against the bulbous head.

"Whoever said girls couldn't have fantasies too," she whispered. "I've fantasized about doing this since I was 15."

Rob arched his hips forward, pressing his cock against her tongue and slipping it back between her lips as she eagerly opened her mouth to receive him again. She sucked hungrily, taking as much of his length as she could. He fucked her mouth slowly, a deep, guttural moan escaping from his lips.

Sylvia cupped his balls in her hands, enjoying the feel of them swinging loosely against her chin, their long, curly hair tickling her delightfully. With her fingernails she scratched the sensitive skin behind them, leaving a trail of fire all the way back to his anus.

"Oh Christ, Sylvia!"

Rob's voice sounded like he was in pain. He squeezed her head tighter and began to thrust his cock deeper into her mouth, increasing his fucking motion as he became lost in his pleasure.

Sylvia gagged momentarily and pulled back, closing her fist over the base of his cock so he couldn't jam it in so deep.

"Slow down, Sweetie," she panted, "your plane doesn't leave until noon." She squeezed his cock again, kissed it lovingly and then crawled up onto his lap. She guided his shaft into the hot slickness of her cunt and wiggled down, burying his full length into her in one perfect motion. 

Rob hardly heard her over the sound of his own moaning as she wrapped her arms around his neck and started rocking against him sensually.

"We've got all night, Lover. I want this to last as long as possible."



Sylvia's Little Secret



Chapter One

Damn, I forgot. Sylvia still had my wallet. 

I handed it to her when I started driving because it was uncomfortable to sit on and she had dropped it into her purse. We walked through the busy crowds in the mall and I forgot to get it back when I left her in front of SuzieCreamCheeze, the trendy new shop that just opened. She said she wanted to check it out, hopefully to find a new blouse. I bussed her cheek goodbye and wandered down the busy hallway, window shopping and admiring all the attractive women bustling around. We had agreed to meet in an hour at Starbucks but I was ready for a drink already. 

I turned around and walked back to the shop she had just disappeared into. There were several women and a young couple sorting aimlessly through the colorful fashions, every aisle overflowing with the latest styles. I couldn't see Sylvia anywhere so I headed toward the back of the store looking for her. I passed a changing booth as I walked, seeing with pleasure a shapely pair of legs below the skimpy curtain as a woman tried on a pair of tight black pants. Her boyfriend stood holding her purse and coat, looking uncomfortable and embarrassed in such highly feminine surroundings. 

As I walked further back I noticed two young men unsuccessfully trying to look nonchalant. As I got closer one nudged the other and shuffled away, grinning guiltily. It was obvious he'd been peeking into a changing booth and was afraid of being caught. I stopped and watched as the other quickly returned to his vantage place after glancing at me to see my reaction. I felt my own pulse increase slightly and shrugged my shoulders and nodded to let him know I was aware of what he was doing and was okay with it. 

At first glance the curtain looked fully closed, but a gap of 2 to 3 inches remained open at one edge. From where I was standing I couldn't see anything except a woman's bare feet, but it was obvious the man could look directly into the booth from his viewpoint. He peered inside intently for a moment then glanced back at me and grinned. He flashed me a 'thumbs-up' and motioned me to move closer, to share the view he was obviously enjoying so much. 

Feeling my own excitement start to grow, I moved closer and strained to see into the booth. The wall inside was mirrored and I could see more of the woman reflected in it. She was standing with her back to us and looked naked except for a pair of tiny thong panties. She appeared to be intently studying the price tag on a blouse and by straining my neck I could just see the side of her bare breast. I felt my cock stirring in my pants and as she turned slightly I jerked back, but not before her breasts came fully into my view. 

He motioned me closer again, whispering, "Don't worry." His hand was holding a bulge in his pants as he continued, "This chick's really been hanging it out and she knows I can see her. Great tits, eh?" 

Yeh, I thought, great tits, indeed. 

The only thing wrong was that they were my wife's! 

I couldn't believe it. Sylvia was standing there practically naked and it did seem obvious that she was aware of him. I was surprised at myself as I realized my cock was now fully engorged as I watched her. She continued to pretend interest in the blouse's tag, ignoring him but at the same time shifting to more fully expose herself in the mirror. I could see that her fingers were trembling lightly and her nipples were hard and protruding. Her mouth was open slightly and her breath was coming in short bursts. The signs of her arousal, so familiar to me from the last few years, were now obvious. 

There was no question about it, she was definitely turned on. And even more shocking to me—I was too. 

The man reached out and gently slid the curtain open another inch. She turned slowly toward him, all pretense of innocence now gone. She dropped her hands to her hips and looked directly into his face, seemingly mesmerized. As I moved closer she suddenly looked up and saw me standing behind him. The look of shock on her face was instant and terrified. My sweet Sylvia jerked back from the curtain, her arms involuntarily crossing in front of her breasts as if to protect her modesty. 

How ironic, I thought. Here she was getting off by flashing her breasts to a stranger and then recoiling from the man who sees them naked every day. I put my hand on the man's shoulder and drew him away from the curtain. 

"That's my wife," I told him. I chuckled a little and added, "Looks like I'd better have a little talk with her . . . whadda ya think?" 

He looked even more shocked than she had and quickly stammered, "Hey, sorry man. I didn't know." 

I grinned. "Relax. I'm glad you enjoyed her." 

He looked at me with disbelief. I nodded encouragingly and as subtly as I could, adjusted my crotch. He glanced down at the bulge in my slacks and grinned nervously. 

"How 'bout you meet us down at the Starbucks in a half-hour or so?" I asked him. "You might enjoy getting to know her even more." 

He glanced over my shoulder just as Sylvia stepped out of the booth. Looking even more uncomfortable and confused he mumbled, "Uhh, maybe I'll do that," and hurried toward the exit before she saw us talking. 

Sylvia was carrying the new blouse and looking extremely uncomfortable as she walked up next to me. Without saying a word I took the hanger out of her hand and hung it on the nearest rack. She tried to brush past me in the narrow aisle but I blocked her way, grabbing her arm and pulling her roughly to me. I leaned down and whispered menacingly into her ear. 

"You little slut." 

Her eyes immediately filled with tears. 

"You loved that, didn't you?" 

Unable to meet my gaze or answer, she tried to pull away but I held her firmly and marched her out of the store. 

"How long have you been playing this little game?" I demanded. 

When she failed to answer me, I walked her to the center of the mall and pushed her onto a bench. Dropping beside her without easing my grip on her arm, we sat silently for a few minutes. I watched as she tried to regain her composure, dabbing at her eyes and taking a series of deep, ragged breaths until she seemed to relax a little. 

Raising my voice slightly I repeated, "How long?" 

When she finally answered her voice was very soft and low. 

"I've only done it a couple of times," she whimpered. "Honest. The first time was an accident when I was trying on swimsuits last summer." She glanced up at me trying to gauge my reaction. 

"Go on." 

She could see I wasn't going to let her off without more information. She took a deep breath and continued. 

"Some guy glanced into my booth and saw me as I was taking off my bra. I was so shocked guess I just kind of froze. He grinned at me and I was so embarrassed I smiled back without even thinking. I reached up to close the curtain and he winked at me and mouthed 'thanks'. I got dressed as quickly as I could and rushed out of the store, praying I wouldn't run into him." 

"And?" I prodded again, still acting like I was pissed off. 

"When I got home and felt safe, I realized that at some level I enjoyed what had happened. It had been really obvious he liked looking at me and I knew it must have been pretty sexy for him. During the next few days I found myself flashing back on it more and more. Even though I felt kind of cheap and embarrassed every time, I realized it had really turned me on." 

"So, what happened next?" I asked. 

"I seemed to become more aware of how other men looked at me and how I appeared to them." She took a deep breath and continued. "I was trying on shoes a couple of months later and suddenly realized the salesman had been looking up my skirt. I pretended I hadn't noticed and 'accidently' let my hem slide up until I was almost sure he could see my panties. I wasn't really flirting with him but I knew I was doing it deliberately, hoping to turn him on." 

"Did he say anything?" 

"No, but he began to touch my calf, holding it each time he slipped on a shoe. I'd never had a salesman touch me like that before and I smiled when he did it, letting my knees fall open slightly each time. I could tell he was really enjoying it and I realized that I wanted him to see more of me. 

"I'm getting a hardon just listening to you," I whispered. "What happened then?" 

For the first time she looked directly at me, surprised at my confession. 

"I even fantasized that I wasn't wearing panties," she whispered. 

"Christ, go on. What happened then?" 

"His boss came by just then and started hovering near us. So of course we stopped and I stood up and told him, 'Thanks, but no thanks,' and left the store." Sylvia took a deep breath and looked me right in the eye. "Christ, Honey, I couldn't believe how turned on I was." 

I glanced at my watch. It had been 20 minutes since we left the store and I was thinking about the guy, wondering if he would show up at Starbucks. "Tell me about your next experience," I said. 

Sylvia could obviously tell by now that I wasn't as pissed off as she thought and was actually captivated by her story. She seemed to relax a little more and her voice grew stronger, as if sharing her secrets was taking a huge load off her mind. 

"There was only one more time until today," she continued. "I went into a Victoria 's Secret outlet last week and picked out a couple of bras. I honestly hadn't thought about doing anything naughty but as I went toward the back of the store I saw a really cute guy handing something over the door to his girlfriend's changing booth. He looked over the door and made some comment and I heard her giggle. He looked up and saw me and realized I'd caught him peeking. He grinned playfully and shrugged his shoulders innocently at me and I smiled back at him as I went into the next booth. The doors were fairly low and louvered instead of having curtains and I could actually look down through the louvers and see him right outside. It was kind of exciting knowing that if the louvers were reversed he'd be able to look right in at me." 

Sylvia's leg was pressing against mine and I continued to hold her arm tightly as we sat on the bench, oblivious to the crowds passing by.. She dropped her hand on my thigh and squeezed and I could tell she was excited again as she continued. 

"I took off my blouse and bra and stood facing the door. I could see him shifting back and forth slightly, hoping he would move closer. Sure enough, the next time he handed her something he glanced down into my booth and saw me looking back at him, my breasts totally exposed. He looked surprised but quickly realized I was exposing myself for him. I stood there for what seemed like an eternity as he studied my breasts. I couldn't help myself and started to touch myself softly; pulling my nipples the way I love and his eyes were glued to me. I was getting so turned on I thought I was going to cum on the spot. Unfortunately, his girlfriend came out of her booth and they walked away." 

I had trouble finding my voice. "So you haven't done anything more until today?" I finally asked her. She shook her head slowly, suddenly looking embarrassed again. 

"Can you forgive me?" she whimpered. 

"Hmm. I'll have to think about that, I guess." I stood up and pulled her close to me, holding her tight enough that she couldn't help but feel my erection pressing against her. I kissed her softly a couple of times then leaned back and looked deep into her eyes. 

I grinned and said, "Let's head down to Starbucks and have that cup of coffee. Who knows what might come of all this."