4 comments/  61185 views/  3 favorites

No Rent

By: bi_indiana_chub



"No rent again." The deep, booming voice of the landlord seemed to fill the tiny apartment. "This is the third month in a row, Mr. Burnside."

"I know." Steve Burnside answered his voice small in the wake of such a huge man.

"Well then you should also know that you'll be on the street by the end of the week." There seemed to e in the large man's eyes even though there was none in his voice. "I've given you and your wife more than enough chances to make things even."

"Please, sir." Steve said in a soft plea. "We've got a sick baby and my job is barely paying enough to cover all of her doctors' visits."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Burnside." The landlord didn't seem sorry. Not at all.

"I'll do anything, sir."

"Anything?" The landlord's tone of voice sent chills of regret and fear down Steve's spine. "Maybe we can work something out after all."

"Thank you, sir." Relief rushed through out Steve's body and a small, hopeful smile began to spread upon his lips.

"Don't thank me just yet, Mr. Burnside." The landlord chuckled. "I think we'll be taking your rent out of your flesh."

"What?" Confusion filled Steve's mind. "You want me to work for you?"

"Sort of." The grin on the landlord's face seemingly grew cruel. "I'm a man of certain appetites, Mr. Burnside. My taste's run deep and varied."

"Ok?" Steve said looking for any sign of hope on the large man's face. "What do I have to do?"

"Mr. Burnside, I have an itch that I haven't scratched in quite sometime, and I'm hoping that you could scratch that itch for me."

"You want me to scratch your back?" A chuckle passed the landlord's lips. 

"No." He smiled his large mouth reminded Steve of a shark's. "I want you to relieve me."

"How?"

"Sexually, Mr. Burnside." The man let loose a cruel chuckle. "I want your body in exchange for letting you stay in my apartment."

"That is crazy." Steve said, anger mixing into his voice. "That is a sin, and illegal." Steve felt his religious roots flaring up inside him. Years of Sunday school telling him that the very thought of such an act would surely doom him to Hell. The landlord seemed unfazed by Steve's fears.

"It's that or the streets, Mr. Burnside." The landlord spoke these words softly, but the cruelty was still there. "And what of dear little Abigail? A sick baby won't last on the streets, especially during a cold winter."

"Sir, please." Steve whimpered. 

"Only one thing that I'll take instead of cash. Your body."

"Sir," Steve started to say something but stopped well aware that his pleas would fall upon deaf ears. "I don't know, sir."

"Well, Mr. Burnside, you are going to have to make a decision." 

"I'll do it." Steve said with a sigh. He decided that maybe God could understand this act of sin if he knew it was to save his precious child. 

"We'll start slow, Mr. Burnside." The land lord was working at his belt buckle. Steve cringed knowing that he was going to perform a disgusting act of sin right there in the kitchen of his and his wife's apartment. "Consider this a down payment on a promise." The landlord let his slacks drop to the floor and Steve was surprised to see that the man was not wearing any underwear at all. "You can suck my cock right now, and someday soon you can come down to my place and I'll take your rent out of your ass." Steve cringed. Thinking of a future payment was cringe worthy, but he knew that this was probably the only way to stay in the apartment.

"Sir, I've never done anything like this before." Steve said knowing that his voice was soft, pathetic. He felt like a stranger in his own skin. The landlord smiled his cruel smile and motioned for Steve to come closer. Steve crossed his kitchen as slowly as he could, but the trip was still too short for his liking.

Finally in front of the landlord Steve stopped. "On your knees, Mr. Burnside." Steve sighed and got down onto his knees slowly. "Take my cock into your mouth." Steve looked at his landlord's penis for what felt like an eternity. It was bigger than Steve had expected, far larger than his or any other he had ever seen. He slowly reached a finger out to touch it, and felt a little piece of his soul die. "Put it in your mouth." The landlord's booming voice carried a tone of annoyed anger. Steve opened his mouth and took the hard cock into with all the enjoyment of a kid at the dentist. 

His wife rarely performed oral sex on him, and he had only ever seen one pornographic film when he was thirteen. He knew so little about the act of oral sex that he was sure he would fail in the one task that could save his family from the cold streets. He took as much of the landlord's penis into his mouth as he could, and when he felt it on the back of his mouth he nearly gagged. The taste and smell of the man's penis was not entirely unpleasant, but it was defiantly not something that Steve found himself enjoying. 

"You're doing fine for your first time, Mr. Burnside." The landlord said his breath now heavier than before. "Soon you'll be a pro at sucking my cock." Steve continued what he was doing mimicking what his wife had done the few times she had ventured down on him. 

After what felt like ages the landlord finally said something. "I think I might be getting close, Mr. Burnside. I expect you to swallow all of my jizz." Steve sighed inwardly, his mouth was growing tired, but the fear of a mouthful of this man's seed had him begging God to prolong the even as long as possible. "You really are doing an amazingly good job for your first time." The praise seemed genuine. Steve felt the man's body twitch, his penis seemed to throb inside of Steve's mouth. Quite suddenly Steve felt his mouth fill with a rush of warm seed. The taste was unlike anything that Steve had ever had in his mouth. He swallowed hoping to please the landlord enough that the man would leave his family only for a while. He was pleased with himself when all of the warm seed was gone from his mouth and the landlord pulled away. "Thank you, Mr. Burnside." The landlord said softly. He pulled up his slacks. "I guess I'll see you in a week for the next rent payment." Steve felt like he might cry, but lifted himself off the ground to stand in the kitchen that he had earned for another week. The landlord smiled at Steve and then let himself out. Steve knew that there would be a next time, and for just a moment Steve let himself cry.

No Reply



The drive home seemed interminable. My father, my uncle, and my cousin had maintained an inane chatter right from the time we departed Chambersburg. All I wanted was to get home as fast as possible. Probably because of that very desire, we stopped twice for something to eat, two separate times for drinks, and three times for bathroom breaks! A drive that should have been completed in four fours was taking seven.

I had eagerly agreed to the golf/fishing trip with my dad, Uncle Steve, and his son Jim, several months prior. At the time, it seemed like it would be a great trip that would not only be very enjoyable, but have the added bonus of bringing me closer to dad, his brother, and his nephew. Now it appeared it may have created the opportunity for the ruination of my family. How did it come to this? I mulled that over as I waited for the world's three smallest bladders to once again be voided at a service station in Hazleton.

Did it all start a few months ago at Jeff Burrows' funeral? I hadn't seen Jeff or his wife, Janice, more than a few times in the last several years. The Burrows had been my parents' best friends since long before I was born. When I was growing up, they seemed more like my family than most of my blood relatives. Then Debbie and I married and moved thirty miles to Damascus. We soon had two kids to raise, and it always seemed like there was never enough time to keep up with old friends and acquaintances. 

There was another reason I didn't spend a lot of time with the Burrows.. I had pretty much stopped worrying about it many years ago, but the funeral brought all my fears rushing back. At the reception held after the funeral, off in a corner, Debbie was deep in conversation with my mother and Janice Burrows . Their voices were too low for me to hear what was being said, but it caused me more than slight concern.

Maybe my problem actually began the summer after I had turned 18 and graduated from high school. My mother had wrangled a brief job for me. It involved planting a bunch of pine trees for the Burrows, who lived a couple miles from my parents' home. Digging into the hard northern Pennsylvania ground was difficult work, but the job should have easily been completed in two days. It took me a full week. I had a very good reason for taking so long.

Jeff Burrows had to attend some sort of teacher's convention in Harrisburg that week. The three Burrows children were all grown and living in Pittsburgh, Harrisburg, and Dallas, Texas. Their nest was empty. Janice Burrows was completely alone for the week.

The first morning's work was going fairly well when I stopped digging to eat the lunch Janice Burrows had prepared for me. Incredibly, I spent that afternoon in bed with Janice! Somehow, I had managed to seduce an older woman, one that had been my parent's friend for longer than I had been alive? Janice was in her mid-forties and the sexiest woman I had ever seen up to that point. 

My first time with her was actually my first with a woman, and I came just as soon as she began gently caressing my cock. I was ashamed and embarrassed. I wanted to grab my clothes and run home, but Janice soothed my ego and convinced me to stay and perhaps try again, when I was ready. At eighteen, I was reloaded almost before she finished the sentence. 

I still remember how I had climbed between Janice's legs and pointed my harder than steel cock at her center. That was when she stopped me! She explained how happy she was that I found her so desirable, but there were a few things I should always consider before plunging my dick into a lady.

That was the beginning of a weeklong tutorial on the art of making love to a woman. She was a wonderful teacher, and I was a very eager student. Every morning I worked on planting the trees. Every afternoon, Janice taught me the many ways to please a woman, as well as the rewards of doing it properly. I learned about a woman's cycle, birth control and using condoms, female anatomy and pleasure points, as well as their fears, desires and needs. She even had me shave her pussy, and then spend hours learning the proper way to eat it. By the end of the week, I understood that I would never know exactly what a woman might be thinking, or why. I also learned that was okay, as long as I listened to them, always did my very best to respect them, and put their needs and desires before my own. Those lessons had served me very well in my marriage to Debbie, and I was eternally grateful to Janice. 

That said, I had always been nervous when Janice and Debbie were at the same function. I never mentioned my tryst with Janice to my wife, out of respect for Janice, as well as fear of how Debbie would react. It had been a wonderful, almost magical, time in my life. I never even came close to repeating it. Janice explained to me that Friday afternoon so many years ago, that her husband, Jeff, was her love and her life. My final lesson that week was to end our brief affair and never speak of it with anyone. I had promised her, and I had kept that promise. I never thought to ask the same of Janice. Why would a young man just beginning his life's journey require secrecy from a paramour? It never crossed my mind; at least not until I fell totally and madly in love with Debbie.

Of course Janice and Debbie saw each other often when we were dating. I brought Janice to my parent's home quite frequently and it wasn't unusual for the Burrows to drop in. Janice never so much as even hinted anything to Debbie about our relationship, nor to anyone else as far as I knew. Gradually, my fear lessened. Looking back, I realize it never completely died. 

From her first meeting with my parents, Debbie expressed tremendous respect for the obvious love and devotion my parents enjoyed, and she often said the same about the Burrows. 

That caused me some shame. I knew the truth. I had seduced a married woman and placed her marriage at risk. I was not proud of that fact. I always went out of my way to be pleasant and respectful to Jeff Burrows. He obviously never suspected my illicit affair with his wife. He was kind and generous to me, and my respect for him steadily increased, even as the fear of discovery hung over my head.

Our fishing/golf group was about ten miles shy of my home when my cell phone rang. I looked at the screen and saw the call was from my mother. Reluctantly, I answered. The conversation my father and uncle had been engaged in stopped abruptly. It couldn't have been any more obvious that they were intent on hearing what I said.

"Bill, your father says you have been very quiet the whole trip. Are you feeling okay, Son?" Mom asked solicitously.

"Not the time, Mom!" I quickly replied as I closed the phone and turned it off as the silence in the car droned on.

I pressed my remote to open my garage door as we pulled into my driveway. My dad and cousin quickly dug out my golf clubs and fishing equipment from the back of the Expedition. I grabbed my small suitcase. Everything was somewhat hastily placed on the garage floor. Then they hurried off. As I walked through the garage toward the kitchen door, I thought back to all the signs I had missed throughout my life. Would it have been better if I were still clueless? 

I recalled how my mother had called me over to her side late in the afternoon of Jeff Burrows' funeral. At the same time she summoned a lanky kid I had seen earlier in the day, sitting with Janice at the service.

"Bill, this is Janice's grandson, Jeff Emerson. He's just finished high school and will be going to Penn State this fall. Jeff, this is my son, and Debbie's husband, Bill Mason."

We exchanged handshakes and soon I was chatting with the kid about his future plans and if the Nittany Lions would get to a bowl game this year. He was polite, if a bit shy. But then, so was I at that age. Our short conversation ended when my dad insisted I meet an old neighbor I hadn't seen in twenty years. At that point, I was still oblivious.

Now, as I reached out to open the kitchen door, I considered the unusual route my father had taken to get to Route 81 on our way to Chambersburg. For some unknown reason we went through the small village of Beach Lake. Gazing out the car window as we passed through the village, I saw a scene I had long ago forgotten. Towering pines lined a long drive winding up a hill to an old Victorian home. As we slowly drove by, I remembered the day I rode with my grandparents down the same country road.

"See those beautiful trees, Bill?" my grandmother had asked at the time. "Your Dad planted them for the Andersons back in 1962. It was the year he graduated from high school and was doing odd jobs before reporting for the Marines. He was a fine looking young man, much like you will be in another ten years."

Being a kid, I was amazed that something my dad had planted could have grown so tall. As my dad drove past the same trees earlier this week, I thought back to the trees I had planted for Janice Burrows twenty-some years prior. I smiled to myself. If Dad only knew just how rewarding planting trees could be! Again, no warning lights went off in my head! 

I shook off my reverie, opened the door and stepped into our house. Debbie sat at the kitchen table, facing me. She wore the old Notre Dame shirt and sweats she so often donned in the evening. As my emotions began to climb above a simmer, I thought back to less than a week ago, the day my world completely crumbled.

I considered the long forgotten trees that we had just driven past. As I laughed inwardly wondering if my father had as much pleasure planting them as I had enjoyed with Janice Burrows, another thought struck me. My son had stayed with my parents for a week right after graduating high school six years ago. At the time, my mother told me that they had gotten him a handyman job with some neighbors down the road. My son returned home the following week. I was working double shifts that week and was exhausted by the time I dragged my ass home every evening. I vaguely remembered Debbie asking my son what sort of work he had done that week. Hadn't he replied something about gardening and planting trees? Finally, sirens began sounding my head!

My son had recently married a wonderful young woman and they seemed to be very happy. He always treated his wife with respect and love, much the way I was toward Debbie. As I pondered these events while riding in the back seat of my dad's SUV, I began connecting the dots. Was it possible that both my dad and my son had experiences similar to my own? If so, it wouldn't it have to be some sort of a conspiracy or something? If so, who could be responsible?

What did I actually know? My father had planted trees for family friends shortly after turning eighteen. My son, Jason, and I both did the same thing right after high school graduation. My mom seemed to be the moving force in getting the job for me, as well as for my son, Jason. Was my mother a member of a cult or something? 

I didn't know if Dad or Jason, or both, got laid while doing their plantings, but suddenly it seemed possible. I only slightly knew the family for whom Jason had worked. They had two sons that were both in the Navy that summer. The wife, Nancy Fullmer, was a tad heavy but was still very attractive. She was a kind, friendly woman with a rather big set of tits. My mind suddenly conjured up visions of my son tackling those beauties! It occurred to me that I was apparently losing my grip. 

Why would mature, attractive, married women seduce the young men in my family? Did my mother have some sort of hold over them? Was it blackmail? Was it for money? It seemed unlikely. What else could it be... some sort of trade?

Bingo! Then it hit me. After I had moved from my parents' home into my own apartment, I was busy at work and didn't get back to visit my folks for a few weeks. As I drove up their driveway one afternoon, I noticed my dad had lined the pavement with hard maple saplings. They didn't look all that good at the time, but they were now over twenty feet tall and looked great. I never actually asked if my dad had personally planted the trees! I had assumed he did. 

Could my mother have taken a young man into her bed and taught him the ways of love and sex? My own mom? I always thought she was attractive, for a mom, but the whole idea seemed too farfetched. My mom wouldn't be unfaithful to my dad. She was my mom, and practically a saint! Why use the same cover of planting trees? That made no sense. It would be the same as putting up a sign in the front yard saying: Mature Housewife Tutoring Young Stud In Sex. Do Not Disturb!

But if that were somehow the case, then my father would have known what was going on when the trees were planted at his property. He'd never stand for that from my mom! Then I thought of Jeff Burrows? Could he have known I was doing more planting inside his house than out! He had always been so good to me; he couldn't have known, could he?

These thoughts tumbled around in my mind the rest of the trip to Chambersburg. I wondered if I should I ask my Dad if he was a cuckold? That could open a real can of worms! Suppose he had no idea about any of the shenanigans mom had been up to, or what if my guesses were way off the mark? Then he would know that I had slept with Janice those many years ago! That would be breaking my word, as well as letting the cat out of the bag. I could see no upside to that. 

We had finished our Sunday evening dinner of Pizza and beer. My father and uncle had argued for twenty minutes about which ballgame to watch, and had finally settled on the Yankees, who they both hated. We were all unpacked and looking forward to leaving the little fishing cabin at daylight to drown some worms. We had an afternoon tee time at a nice eighteen-hole golf course. Life was good, for the moment.

Then it went to hell in a hurry. My cell rang and I saw it was Debbie calling. I stepped outside as I answered. Old men tend to play the TV so damn loud you can't hear yourself think, never mind carry a phone conversation. After the usual pleasantries, Debbie blindsided me.

"Bill, you remember Jeff Emerson, Janice's grandson? He's visiting Janice this week and is looking for some work to make some money to use toward college. I was thinking of hiring him to plant some apple trees in the back of the house. You know how I always wanted a little orchard? I could make you pies and cobbler and applesauce and whatever. I'd probably even have enough left over to sell a few bushel," added Debbie.

I felt faint. My heart seemed to double its rate. My throat was dry and my palms sweaty. My hand shook as I raised the beer to my lips and drained it. I tried to initiate speech, but no sounds escaped my throat.

"Bill? Are you there? Did you hear what I asked?" questioned Debbie. "Tell me if you object to me hiring Janice's grandson to plant some apple trees while you are away this week?"

"Debbie, do you take me for a complete damn fool?" I demanded when my voice finally returned. "Do you hold me in such contempt? You must be laughing your ass off at this!"

"No, Bill. That's why I'm calling. If you tell me not to hire Jeff, I will call Janice and tell her we're sorry but we won't hire her grandson. Your mother insisted that I needn't even consult you. She told me you would be none the wiser; that no man in your family has ever questioned the tree plantings," revealed Debbie. "I have far too much respect for you as my husband, and for your ability to read the sign, as they say. 

"I refused your mother's plea that I not tell you until after all the trees were planted. I will not ever lie to you, Bill. As I expected, you know exactly what I am talking about. Imagine if I had followed your mother's advice! This is difficult enough as it is. You have been a wonderful husband and lover, Bill. I am willing to do my part for family tradition, as well as help a young man gain an education, but only with your approval. 

"You need to tell me to call Janice and refuse her grandson's services. If you don't tell me to refuse, Jeff will be here at eight tomorrow morning. He will spend the entire week planting trees, Bill, and I will pay him for his efforts. You were paid for the same thing twenty six years ago. I cannot be any clearer on this. If you don't want those apple trees planted, you need only tell me to call Janice."

What the fuck! Debbie had pretty much just told me that damn kid would be screwing her all week unless I objected and told her to refuse. Then she would call Janice and tell her. How in hell did I suddenly become the bad guy? Back then, I thought that week of sex with Janice was with no strings attached. I never dreamed it would bite me in the ass over two decades later!

I thought about that week with Janice and how special it had been. I remembered how guilty I felt about cuckolding Jeff Burrows all those years ago and how kind he had been to me afterward. At the time I thought I was pulling one over on him, but now I wondered. Was he aware of the situation? Could he have even realized that I would someday have the opportunity to repay him, albeit through my wife and his grandson? How much did I owe the Burrows? Was my successful marriage a direct result, at least in part, of that incredible week I spend under Janice Burrows' tutelage? If I refused, would I doom any of my unborn grandsons to the fate of not having a mature, considerate tutor in the art of making love? Would I live to see my grandson spend a week with that wife of Jeff Burrows? That possibility gave me the strength to make my decision! 

I just looked at my phone for a few seconds and turned it off. Then I lurched back inside to grab another beer or three. I must have looked as bad as I felt.

"What is it, Son?" questioned my father. "Is something wrong with Debbie or the kids? What happened?"

I looked at my family members and shook my head as tears rolled down my cheeks before finally sobbing, "It's a personal problem, Dad?"

"Aw shit!" exclaimed Uncle Steve. "Are you getting some fucking trees planted this week?"

"You know about that, Steve?" I asked in amazement.

"Didn't you ever see those goddamn weeping willows in my back yard? The fuckers are choking the shit out of my septic system and Jim's mother won't let me cut the bastardly things down!" complained my uncle rather vehemently. "Have you seen the cherry trees by Jim's house? Shit! We've all had the horns hung on us, but only after we enjoyed the pleasure of hanging them on some other poor bastard over twenty years before."

"The women think we have no clue about this family tradition, Bill," interjected my father. "We men being dumb sons a-bitches is a big part of the tradition, so we play along. It sure wasn't easy when I came home from a fishing trip and found those maple trees drooping along our driveway. If I hadn't known it was due for over a year before the fact, I might have lost it and done something stupid. I'm not defending this weird shit, Bill, but I have to admit the success rate for the marriages in our family is phenomenal. That first piece of ass, and the sentimental bullshit that goes with it seems to work, hard as it is to accept.

"I should have made sure you were prepared, but you always seemed to understand what was going on, so I assumed you were ready for your turn in the fucking barrel. You didn't give us away to Debbie, did you?" quizzed Dad.

"No, Dad, I didn't.... mostly because I didn't know half this shit!" I snarled. "How the hell am I supposed to be able to golf, or even fish, this week with that little fucker in my bed back home?"

"That can be a problem, Bill. Your dad, Jim, and I were somewhat prepared but didn't find out about the actual deed until after the fact. Debbie kind of broke the unspoken rule about not speaking about the rules," grinned my uncle. "I'd say the best way to look at it is this. It's better to become a cuckold while you're fishing and golfing than while you are at work!"




No Reply



So I fished, golfed, drank way too many beers, and commiserated with the men of my family for a whole week. My mood swings were incredible. I managed an eagle on a long par five and couldn't even manage a smile as I collected five bucks from each of the guys. I laughed like a fool when I fell out of the boat while netting a nice bass for my dad. I cried at night and even vomited a few times after dinner. 

Steve told me that as near as he and my father could determine, there were four families that started the tradition of supplying sex education for the young men in the families. They were the Masons, the Burrows, the Fullmers, and the Grays. The burden of being the teacher always fell on the wife of one of the men in the family that had been on the receiving end of the tradition as a young man. He didn't think any wife had ever refused to carry out her mandate. He joked that there were a shit load of goddamn worthless trees littering the family's landscape, so it couldn't have been broken very often, if at all.

Debbie looked at me somewhat nervously as I stopped just inside the kitchen door. She started doing that thing with her hair that she always did when she was agitated. Unable to endure my silence, she stood, picked up a warm pie from the stove, and placed it on the table.

"I..I thought you, ah, might be hungry," she managed hesitantly. "I just made this and it's your favorite... cherry."

Looking at my wife, I began to feel emotions I never knew existed in such intensity. I felt insanely jealous and so angry I could have easily wrung her neck. I felt tremendous fear that she no longer loved me as she once did, that I had been replaced by a younger model. I experienced an incredible desire to fuck her silly and make her my woman again. I knew intense sadness that the idyllic marriage I had known might exist no more. The dynamics would never allow things to be the same as they had been. I even felt a sense of pride like I hadn't known since early in my marriage. Debbie was a woman for a man, strong and smart, yet soft and lovely, and she was my wife. 

Unable, or unwilling, to control my actions any better than my emotions, I strode to the table, scooped up the pie and hurled it through the kitchen window, smashing the glass into tiny fragments. Debbie gasped with shock, but never retreated as I turned and stepped closer to her. I reached out and grabbed her shirt in my right hand and yanked it from her body like it was made of tissue paper.

Now Debbie was breathing hard! Her breasts were heaving and her nipples hardened in the cool air. I pushed her backward. Her ass hit the table and she leaned back with her hands to break her fall. I took that moment to jerk her sweats off. My hands must have caught in her black bikini briefs. Even as the sweats dropped to the floor, the briefs followed my hand back up, then fluttered between us before settling on Debbie's left tit. I noticed that her nipples were as hard as pebbles.

Spellbound, she gazed down at her breast as the underwear slowly slid down the smooth surface, hung up on her nipple for a second or two, and then dropped to the floor to rest on the shirt I had so recently ripped from her torso. She looked back to me but still said nothing.

I unbuckled my pants and dropped my jeans and boxers in one swift move. Then I grabbed the inside of Debbie's knees, lifting and spreading them apart. My cock was so hard it ached as I stared at Debbie smooth shaven pussy. I had visions of the afternoon I had shaved Janice's pubic hair all those years ago and how erotic I had found it at the time.

I snarled as I thrust ahead, driving my cock into Debbie to the hilt. I hardly noticed how wet she was already. I placed her knees on my shoulders and took her incredible breasts into both hands and squeezed. As I thrust with more force than I had ever done before, I silently defied her to beg me to slow down or ease up. It wasn't to be.

"Yes! Take me, husband! Take me hard. Show me that I belong to you,... that I always will. Pound my pussy!" she managed through gritted teeth as I continued my assault. "Fill me with your cum!"

Time seemed to stand still, or at least go into slow motion, as I worked my incredibly hard cock in and out of Debbie. I looked at her and saw a beautiful mature woman with curves in the right places. I saw the mother of my children, my best friend, and my life partner. I thought my heart was going to burst as I considered how much she meant to me, and how hard I would fight for her, if fight I must. She was a real woman, and she was my woman. Nothing else mattered. I would give my life for her and feel honored for the opportunity!

Then she suddenly twitched and jerked almost violently. She gave a groan that was more like a low scream, and went limp. I never missed a stroke as I continued toward my own release. Debbie came back around as I approached my zenith. She urged me on.

"That's it, Bill! Cum in me! Fill me with it. Show me, show everyone, that I'm your woman, your wife. Give it to me!" she demanded. "You own this pussy!"

How in hell can a man withstand that sort of encouragement? I spent the next minute emptying myself inside my wife. I wondered if I would ever stop coming. Finally, my cock began to shrink and fell from Debbie's swollen lips. I collapsed into a nearby chair as my chest heaved and my heart still raced. Debbie plopped down on my lap and wrapped her arms around my neck. Her breasts and hard nipples felt incredible as I hugged her to me. That was when I glanced over her shoulder and saw Janice Burrows and my mother watching intently from the living room sofa! Their smiles were a mile wide.

"You didn't mention we had company," I whispered in Debbie's ear.

"I told them that we would be fine and they didn't have to worry about you throwing me to the curb, Darling. They were just worried because I told you about the planting beforehand. You had all week to mull it over, and get worked up," added Debbie quietly. "You did seem pretty worked up, Big Boy. My little pussy is going to need some recovery time, but if you can get rid of the ladies, I'll use some of my other parts that still feel fine to show you how much I love you."

"Okay, you have a deal," I quickly agreed. "I'll get busy fixing that window tomorrow morning. Don't even think about hiring some fuzzy-faced kid to do any more chores. I'll be the only guy practicing "horticulture" around here! And I expect apple pie, not cherry, since I've paid so dearly for those fucking trees. At least you were smart enough not to plant any goddamn weeping willows!"



No Reply - Husbands' Response



Where husbands regain respect and dignity

This is a sequel to No Reply by Harddaysknight. To understand this story you need to read Harddaysknights' story.

This isn't a Burn the Bitch story, as that isn't warranted by the original. I'm OK if it bothers you. It is what it is.

I hope you enjoy my first attempt at a story for Literotica

Much thanks to Erikthread for his editing skill. 

----------

"Mom, you have to leave now. You too, Mrs. Burrows. I can't believe you two did all this deliberately. I won't be able to look back to my 18th summer with any happiness." They gasped and slunk out the door and into Mom's car. Debbie was stunned. I had never spoken a cross word to my mother and had always shown her and Janice Burrows the deepest respect. That was all gone now.

"Debbie, we need to talk," I said.

"OK, but I need to shower first."

"No, this needs to happen NOW!"

She sat down at the other end of the sofa and looked up at me with a worried look in her eyes. "I'm not happy about this," I said. "I know you were pulled into it by my mother and Janice Burrows, but it's eating away at me. I feel humiliated and dishonored, not as much by you, Deb, as by my own mother! I know one thing. I will never be able to look at those trees and not feel real pain. I love you with all my heart. You've been a great wife and mother. Tell me, did you know anything about Jason at the time?"

"NO! I never had an idea until Jeff Burrows' funeral what was happening around here. And the apple trees - I'll pull them down myself if I have to. I never want you, my husband, to hurt from any of my actions again, and I swear I'll find some way to make this up to you. And I'm sorry, so sorry that I pushed the decision onto you when I already knew the right thing to do. I think that that's why I'm so disappointed in myself."

"I have a plan for that," I said. Then I outlined what I wanted to do, at least at my house. Soon after Debbie was on the phone to Janice Burrows. "Janice, I need Jeff to come over tomorrow morning about nine. Bill and I have one more job for him. No, everything will be fine here, at least it will if he shows up. I can't predict what Bill might do if he doesn't and I really don't want to find out."

After that I called my dad and we had a long chat. "Those maple trees really are a bother, aren't they, Dad?" 

"Yes they are, Son. Messy as all hell and so many leaves in the fall. One or two in front of the house, OK, but a whole damn stand of 'em is just too much." 

"Tell me how they make you feel, though, Dad." 

"Sometimes I just begin to shake with anger when I see them. Then I think about how much I love your mom. Still, it's hard with a daily reminder of how I was unwillingly cuckolded. I don't think your mom really understands how I feel." 

"I'm sure of it, Dad. What she sees is a bunch of well-pleased women who have something they can use to control their men. I, for one, am not going to take it. I should have told Debbie 'no' when she called, and I know that the rough patch we are about to go through is partly my fault, because I didn't tell her straight up not to do it. I thought she really knew it from my voice and I shouldn't have had to tell her no. I was just too stunned and upset at the moment and I closed my cell. I now know that was a big mistake. So let me ask you, do you want to be rid of those trees? I know I couldn't live with a daily reminder of Deb's tryst with Jeff Emerson and it would likely end our marriage. I'm taking care of that tomorrow. I'll also be happy to help you take care of yours if you want. Just let me know."

Debbie heard the last part of the conversation as she was coming down from her shower. When I turned around, there were tears in her eyes. "I didn't realize it would affect you this much, Bill, or I would have told your mom to take a long walk off a short pier, but she seemed so positive that it was good for the marriages in all the families. All I ever wanted for us was to have a good marriage, and I thought that Janice had something to do with that."

"Well, as far as learning how to love and respect my wife, I learned more of that from my dad than I ever did from Janice Burrows. How to make love to a woman, at least the physical parts, yes, I did learn that from Janice. In a way though it stole something from us. Think of the joy and delight we would have had in discovering all those things ourselves. Think of how it would have been if I had come to our marriage bed as innocent as you and we made our way through the joy of discovering what delighted the other, what we each enjoyed. I already knew a lot of that, thanks to Janice, and you were cheated out of that experience. Hell I was cheated out of it too, of telling you how good something felt, or of how that little touch right there turned me on, and of all those things young lovers learn about each other and themselves. I really wish I'd had that with you!"

Debbie had a strange look on her face. If I had to guess it was one of desire mixed with anger and regret. "Oh, Bill! I'm sorry we never had those experiences. Still, you are the best thing that ever happened to me and the best lover--probably some from what Janice taught you--but more from what your dad did. He taught you how to really love a woman from the heart, and I feel that every time we make love, Bill. Will you make love to me now, Bill? Not just fuck me, but love me?"

"Yes, Debbie, I will, but I have a question. Did you use our bed?" 

"Yes," she replied with a look of sudden shock and despair on her face. 

"We'll use the guest room and tomorrow we'll order new furniture for the master," I said. 

I led her up to the guest room and slowly undressed her, taking my time. I ran the tips of my fingers down her arms, up her thighs, gently touching her all over her body. I caressed her face, her breasts, her pussy. We made slow gentle love, allowing our passion and desire to build until we reached a crescendo of mutual satisfaction. We lay together in each other's arms and drifted off to sleep. I woke at 6:00 A.M. still entwined with Debbie. I looked at her beautiful face and thought "God I love this woman." 

She smiled and stirred, and looking at me, said, "I love you to the very depth of my soul." 

I was ready to take her right then, but I had things I needed to do today. "Debbie, I'm ready to repeat last night. I've never felt closer to you, ever! But we have things that we have to do today. I promise that tonight will be special."

She leaned into me, gave me a passionate kiss and said, "I know, dear. I'm ready for the day. I love you and I want to do this." She got up, took a quick shower and went downstairs to fix breakfast. 

After breakfast I went into my office and wrote the most difficult letter I had ever had to write. I had finished and was waiting when Janice showed up with Jeff. 

"Good morning, Janice, Jeff," Debbie said as she let them into the house. I was in the living room in my work clothes. "Why don't you go with Bill, Jeff? I know he has a job that he needs your help with." Janice had a look of concern on her face, remembering how forceful and violently Bill had taken me yesterday afternoon. "You don't have anything to worry about, Janice. Bill won't hurt him, but he will talk to him, and I hope Jeff learns from what he has to say. In the mean time, let's you and I go visit my mother. Bill will bring Jeff over when they're finished." Debbie and Janice got into Janice's car and went over to my mom and dad's place.

Jeff walked hesitantly with me out to the yard where he had planted the apple trees. He noticed the shovels and had a questioning look on his face. "We have something to undo, Jeff, and if we don't do it now I will be hurt and angry and my marriage might not survive." A look of realization came over his face.

"You know, don't you, Mr. Mason? I'm sorry, but it was so overwhelming and I was so confused. I guess I just went with the flow and didn't think about what the consequences might be."

"I know, Jeff. I remember vividly my experiences with your grandmother. I felt much the same way, including guilt over having cuckolded your grandfather." His eyes went wide. I could see anger and hurt in his eyes. It was clear that he loved and respected his grandfather and knew that I regretted hurting his grandfather just as he regretted hurting me.

"Well, let's get to work. We've got to 'unplant' some trees. If I see them for one more day I may go nuts." Jeff and I worked quickly and with purpose. As we worked I talked about respect and how to respect and love a woman. I told him to look at marriages he admired, that he thought were good and strong and to look at how the husbands treated their wives. that that was a way you could learn about love and respect for a woman. Then we talked about respect for men. About how you respect a man by respecting the vows he and his wife made, by respecting the relationship between him and his wife. We talked about how if you give that respect to other men they will give it back to you. By noon we had all of the trees out of the ground and loaded into the back of my pickup and Jeff had a head full of things to think about.

"Mr. Mason, will you still be friends with my grandma?" Jeff asked.

"Of course, Jeff, but I'll always regret what happened. I'll regret having cuckolded your grandpa. He was a good man and I'm not sure how he handled it. I'm sure he knew, he just chose not to acknowledge it. I'm sure in some ways it ate at him. I'm also sorry for Debbie and me, for the loss of discovery that was taken from us that week. But I've forgiven myself and Debbie and your grandma. She really is a good woman at heart. She was just a little misguided. And you don't have to worry about sharing anything we've talked about today with her. As a matter of fact, I want you to do so, as you feel comfortable about it. I think she needs a male perspective. There are a lot of women who do."

We rode in silence to Mom and Dad's house. We did make a quick stop for burgers and fries and arrived just after 2:00. Mom and Janice were waiting nervously as Dad came up and greeted us. We all went inside. Janice got up, hugged her grandson, and said they had things to do and that they had to leave. Then she hugged me and whispered, "I'm sorry" in my ear as she left. I was sure she and Jeff would be having an interesting conversation on the way home and often afterwards.

I turned back to sit down and handed the letter to Debbie. I knew it was going to hurt my mom, but she had to understand that what she had done had hurt four marriages. Then Dad and I went out to take care of those damned apple trees.

We unloaded all the trees out in his back field, in sight of the living room picture window. Then we doused them with gasoline and set a match to them. The rush of flame caught my mom by surprise. My mom asked Debbie "What are they doing?" 

"Just burning some apple trees," was her reply. A look of shock and horror were on Mom's face. Debbie asked her, "Did you expect that Bill would be able to live with a daily reminder of my cuckolding him with a man less than half his age? At least he had the courage to take action and reclaim me, but we're going to be spending a lot of time trying to build a stronger marriage. I think it's time you read Bill's letter while the men are out there tending the fire."

Dear Mrs. Mason,

Are you surprised I didn't write "Dear Mom," or even "Dear Mother"? You shouldn't be because your actions over the last few decades toward the family don't qualify as the actions of a Mom. You have put the emotional health of at least four marriages at risk. You arranged for a good man, Jeff Burrows, to be a cuckold. I don't know how he could live each day looking at those trees. I know I couldn't and you've just now seen my response. Right now I'm so upset I'm beside myself. I still feel guilty for making Jeff Burrows a cuckold. I now wonder if the pain and humiliation of that cut his life short. I'm angry that you set me up to be a cuckold. I know Debbie feels really bad about what she did, but you don't need to worry about us. We'll make it, but there's going to be a lot of pain. I'm also upset about what you did to my son, Jason. Now he has to carry the guilt of what you set him up for. But most of all you should worry about Dad. You need to sit down and talk to him about your maple trees, really talk and LISTEN to him. He deserves at least that since you got them by cuckolding him.

As of this moment I will not be talking to you or visiting at your home. Dad is welcome to come and visit any time he wants, but I don't want you in my house or talking to my wife after today. I will be willing to resume a relationship with you after you meet some conditions. First, I want written apologies from you to seven people. You need to start first by apologizing to Dad. He's the person you need to do this for the most. I don't think you understand how those trees make him feel. Then you need to apologize to Debbie for luring her into your scheme. She may seem strong now, but I can tell you she's afraid and fragile. Next you need to apologize to Jeff Emerson for putting him in a position between a man and his wife. Then a letter to Jason and to his wife for stealing some of the delight of discovery between lovers. And finally, you need to apologize to me. Convincing my wife to cuckold me is not the act of a loving mother. Do this and have all of these people bring their letters to me written in your own hand and we can begin rebuilding our relationship.

I want you to know that I'm feeling angry and humiliated. I'm also flabbergasted that this has gone on for so long and that you chose to do it to me. Three generations at least. As for my branch of the family, it ends here. I will get over my anger and humiliation eventually, but the emotional and financial costs are significant. I have to replace my bed and I'm thinking I really need to totally remodel that room entirely to stop being reminded of what went on while I was away. It still hurts. I love Debbie with all my heart and we will be OK, but I'm going to hurt for a long time.

Before I finish I want you to know that despite what you have done I still love you and I always will. You'll always be my mom.

Your loving son Bill

As the trees smoldered down to ashes I went back into my dad's house. I heard a soft sobbing in the living room and saw Debbie holding my mom. I think she was finally seeing just what this little scheme that had gone on for so long had actually cost in pain and heartache. I walked in and told Debbie it was time to go. My mom got up and rushed to me, hugging me tight and saying, "I'm so sorry, William. I never even realized ..." 

"I know, Mom," I said. "You need to get yourself together and have a serious talk with Dad, and now you know what you have to do start rebuilding our relationship. Bye, Dad." Debbie and I went out to the truck and left.

As I drove Debbie home she reached over, shyly grabbed my hand and said, "I love you, Bill. Thank you for being strong and putting a stop to this silly scheme. I just wish I'd been as strong as you when your mom came to me with it." 

"I know, Deb, I know. But at least you had the guts to let me know. If I hadn't been blindsided, I would have stopped it before it had a chance to get this far. I love you and we'll get past this."

We stopped at Denny's on the way home. We were both too tired to cook. When we got home we went up to the guest room and cuddled into each other. We whispered words of love and fell asleep in each other's arms. Deb woke first and blew in my ear until I came to consciousness.

"You looked so peaceful and contented," she said.

"I am. I feel so much better about myself now that I've dealt with the feelings of guilt I've carried around for better than half my life. I also feel that our relationship is going to come out stronger on the other side of this. I already feel that our communication is better and I feel a greater love for you than ever before. I think I'll call in and take a few more days off. We have a few things to talk about." She reached for me and gave me a gentle kiss. A single tear trickled down her cheek.

"OK, Bill. Let me get dressed and make breakfast and we can talk."

Epilog

We did talk a lot over those two days and decided not to remodel. Instead we sold the house. Jason no longer lived with us and we didn't need the space and I was no longer interested in caring for what amounted to a small estate. We decided on a condo so we could spend more time together on the weekends. We were enjoying life and looking forward to the time we could retire. Having the condo made it so much easier to just pick up and leave for a long weekend, or just take a day trip since we had no yard maintenance.

About a week after I had my tree burning at Dad's a local hardwood lumber company came and removed those maple trees. I guess Mom realized how much pain and stress they were causing dad. He'd kept that pain buried for a long time and now that it was out, Mom realized that she had some work to do. She found a good marriage counselor for them and their marriage is growing stronger by the day. Dad smiles a lot more now.

About two weeks after our little bonfire three cars pulled up to my house. My dad led my son, his wife, and Jeff into my house. The first thing he did was hand me an envelope. It was addressed to me in my mom's hand.

My Dearest William, (that's what she called me when she wanted to show her love)

I am so sorry for what I did to you and to my friends and family. I thought I was giving future wives a loving and caring husband. I have since come to realize, through talking with your father, that his dad taught him more about that than a few hours feminine teaching ever could. He taught you the same and Debbie has expressed that gratitude to him personally in the last few weeks. I have also talked to all of the women who have been involved in this little "make good husbands" scheme and let them know that it is good husbands and fathers that teach young men to be the same. I have also come to the realization that the joy of mutual discovery by young lovers is a far greater gift than being a skilled lover. I am so sorry for stealing that from you and Debbie. I am sorry for the humiliation I have caused you and others. 

Please forgive me.

I love you,

Mom

She signed it "Mom" and drew a small tear and a heart at the end. And I had a small tear in my eye as I read it. Everyone who came gave me similar letters written in her hand. Debbie gave me hers last:

My Dearest Daughter Debbie,

I don't know how you can forgive me. I pushed you into breaking the most sacred of vows. I even lied when I said that the husbands I knew were O.K. with it. I really didn't know. I only knew that on the outside the marriages in our families were happy and strong.

Then I talked with Paul after Bill and he burned those trees. I never knew how hurt he was or how those maple trees made him feel. I cried when he told me how they were a constant reminder that I had given myself to another man voluntarily and that I had done it behind his back. I will spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to Paul.

I am so sorry for doing that to you and sorry for pressuring you into giving in. It looks like Bill is the strongest of our men. You are lucky to have him, you just do what you have to do to keep him and don't worry about me.

Thank you for being my daughter.

I love you,

Mother Mason

As Dad handed me his he quietly said, "Thank you son," and went outside to get Mom. I was standing at the door as he led her in. I took her in my arms, gave her a big hug and whispered through my tears, "I forgive you Mom," and kissed her on the cheek.




No Reply - Husbands' Response



That summer and fall there were an inordinate number of trees and orchards taken out. Couples walked down the streets of town holding hands and the husbands had smiles of contentment and love on their faces. I spent a weekend at Janice Burrows place taking out those trees I had planted all those years ago. Her grandson Jeff was there to help. She said she hadn't honored Jeff in life, but she "damn sure would honor him in death." 

There were a few couples who didn't have their trees taken out. Some of them are now in the midst of divorces. It seems the husbands saw how their friends' and family's wives were honoring them and realized their wives treasured the memories of their trysts more than them. 

The most notable divorce was my cousin. It seems his wife was having regular visits from her 23 year old 'student'. It was a bitter divorce. My cousin's wife tried to claim that he was abusing her. He had the house wired for video. It caught her throwing dishes at him and belittling him. It also caught her and her lover on tape. She left the county, shamed and humiliated. My cousin put a beating on the young man one night at the local tavern. No one there stepped in to help the boy. With the help of all our family, my cousin is recovering his self esteem. My dad and I worked along side him when he removed the trees.

Several people, followed the example of my mom and dad and planted evergreens in their yard as an example of their undying love. I found myself wishing I had kept my house so we could plant one. Debbie remedied that the next weekend. While Dad and I were watching a baseball game Debbie and Mom went outside and planted a tree for the two of us. "Come outside, Bill," she said. She showed me our tree. We had a bench made and placed between the trees. It had "Dedicated to the everlasting love between husbands and wives and between fathers, mothers and their children." inscribed on it. 

And a new family tradition was born.

----------

Thank you for reading this, my first submission to Literotica

All comments are welcome. Please vote.

TNOLDGUY 



No Reservation



Her initial thought, after seeing the inn along the horizon for the first time, was that it was on fire. The setting sun, with its orange haze, was shimmering through the distant tree line. The trees, their tall shapes standing like toy soldiers, were all dressed up with their red and orange and yellow leaves. The light warm wind rustled the branches, causing glints of fire light to sparkle along the ground. The effect was disquieting and she finally lowered her head to shield it. This last day of October was stunning, summer was still hanging on for dear life, and the temperature was warm enough to allow Sarah to leave her car window open. She turned and looked lovingly at Michael, her hand preoccupied, and he smiled at her.

She and Michael loved their weekend trips. They took turns, each of them picking a month and planning where they were going to go and what they were going to do. This weekend, after spending last night in Baltimore, was Michael's and tonight he was going to surprise her with something "different for Halloween". Despite the gorgeous day, so far, it hadn't turned out as he had planned.

"Who did you say gave you the phone number to this place?"

"A fellow standing outside of that Holiday Inn. Keep doing that, Sarah, yes, please."

"Because I tried looking up their website and they don't have one. Who doesn't have a website in this day and age?"

"I'm not sure. The guy I spoke to on the phone seemed nice and the room was cheap, really cheap, actually."

She removed her hand from his throbbing crotch and pointed towards the neon sign. "There's the inn, Michael, right up ahead. See the sign?" She glanced down and saw his length pressing up against his jeans. If she unzipped him, she knew he would spring out like a jack-in-the-box. 

"You are such a tease, do you know that?"

"Yes, I do know that. I figure you'll be nice and ready for later, sweetie." She batted her long eye lashes at him seductively and played with her long brown hair.

"You're not playing fair."

This was their game on their trips. They would rub and suck at each other, someone might get off and sometimes they wouldn't. Forty five minutes ago, she got off; Mike had pulled over onto the side of the road and hidden the car in an outcropping of trees. She had climbed in the back and he had eaten her sweetness with her legs pressing up against the front seats. In evil retribution, over the last mile, she had been stroking him over his jeans.

"I always play fair."

"You're wearing that dress tonight, too, aren't you?"

"Maybe."

They passed the front of their destination, The Weary Traveler's Inn, and her first impression was how quaint it looked. The Dutch colonial sported a lovely front porch, with two white rocking chairs, a white table with an orange candle, and a scarecrow, with pumpkins and some straw bales. The scarecrow was smiling at her. Behind the house and off in an L, was a larger attached building. The inn was nestled in between two large fields, their yellow and green carpets swaying briskly in the fall wind. A parking arrow led the way and he parked the car, cutting the engine.

"This looks nice enough, Michael, but can you please tell me what happened to our reservation at the Holiday Inn again?"

"I told you. I'm not sure. They couldn't find it. I know I called and made them last month. Everything else in town is sold out."

"Sold out? What's going on around this rinky dink little town? It didn't seem very big to me."

"It's part of the surprise. Come on, let's check-in."

He got out of Michael's BMW X1, his birthday gift to himself last year, and he grabbed their bag from the trunk. Her purse lay in the backseat, its contents strewn about haphazardly and she gathered it up in her arms. Her arms were overloaded and she bumped the seat on the way out and everything spilled out onto ground. A gust of wind came up, scattering the items around, and she froze in horror as she saw her handkerchief, the initials SG, get grabbed by the rough breeze and skitter along the gravel surface, heading towards the inn. 

"Quick, Michael, my father's handkerchief! Do you see it over there? Grab it!"

"Which one?"

"You know the one with SG on it? My father's! Quick, before the wind blows it away!"

The wind blew strongly again, whipping her hair, and driving bits of gravel across the parking lot. The handkerchief got caught up in the gust, was forced into the air, and it flipping end on end and up and over the Inn's gutter. She watched it bounce along the pitched roof and then it was lifted again until it balanced precariously on the chimney opening. It clung there, its sides flicking rapidly from the strong wind. Then, without warning, it was sucked down the hole. 

"Damn it! Oh, I can't believe it, Michael! I never should have taken it with me. I don't know what I was thinking."

"I'm sorry, dear. I can inquire about where that chimney goes once we get inside. Come on, let's check-in."

They walked past the neon sign, "THE WEARY TRAVELERS INN! ESTABLISHED 1952", which was swaying slightly from the breeze. Sarah stopped and glared up at the front of the inn, with its white paint, green shutters, and large front door. Two orange candles flickered in the top front windows, the white curtains pulled shut. It looked like the house was winking at her. Come to think of it, she thought, the eaves looked like a giant eyebrow and the open doorway resembled a large mouth. Sarah didn't like it one bit. She shuttered. Michael walked through the door and she couldn't help but feel that the house had swallowed him whole, like it had her handkerchief.

"Don't be ridiculous, Sarah" she said. She followed Michael in.

---------------

Her ears popped and the world sounded hollow. Last time she had felt anything like that was on her flight to visit her parents in Florida six months ago. Chewing a stick of gum had helped and she sure wished she had some now. She rubbed her ears and looked around the lobby. The sign out front had said established in 1952 and the décor hadn't changed much since then. The walls were covered in wood paneling and the ceiling was a stark white. A large, plush red couch and table were stuffed into the corner. An older couple was sitting there, he had his hand on her leg, and they were talking, closely. She thought it odd that there was nothing modern anywhere, no cellphones, no wall mounted televisions, no digital screens, and no computer monitors on the front desk. A payphone was setup by the front door. The front desk was made of oak and looked sturdy and tall. Cigarette ads had been taped to the front, all the women looking sexy while enjoying a cigarette. To Sarah, the ads looked disgusting. There was a little silver desk service bell on the corner. She found Michael chatting with the front desk clerk, who was chewing on the end of a pencil.

"How long you folks planning on staying again? I'm Ray, the front desk man here at the Traveler's."

"Nice to meet you, Ray. We're just staying one night."

"Nice to meet you, Ray. We're just staying one night. Listen, my girlfriend just lost something important. A gust of wind blew her handkerchief down one of your chimney stacks. Is it possible for us to find that chimney to look for it?"

"Shoot, I'm afraid there isn't. That chimney isn't functional. Sealed up. We can't go ripping the walls down. I'm sorry. Look, I'll tell you what I can do though. I can give you our suite. Beautiful room. It's all the way in the back." A song was playing over a tiny speaker in the ceiling "watching the night with me, into the night I cry." and she pressed her ear a little higher towards the ceiling to listen. It was something slow moving and she thought it might be Perry Como but wasn't sure. It was old.

The front desk clerk was watching her. "Isn't this new Perry Como song great?" he said. He was eyeing her up intently.

"Did you say new song?" Sarah asked.

The front desk clerk ignored her, "I hope the suite will do okay then."

"I'm sure it will be fine. Thanks anyway, Ray" Michael said.

The front desk clerk ignored her, "What are you two love birds planning on doing tonight?"

"Well, we're headed to the Halloween festival. That's going on tonight isn't it?" Mike asked.

"Oh yes! That's why people come from hundreds of miles around. The Chesterville Town Halloween Festival is the best one in Maryland, heck the whole U S of A! This year it's even more special. You know why?"

"Actually, I don't." Mike said.

"Halloween on Saturday only comes around once every 6 years or so. Here in Chesterville, we call that the Samhain Hallows Festival. You're in for a real surprise this year! They are lighting the bonfire, there are lots of games, and they'll be telling ghost stories up on the stage. Don't miss it!"

"Michael, you're taking me to a redneck Halloween festival?" she whispered.

He ignored her. "This sounds great! Can we get into our room now?"

Ray didn't answer, his eyes were darting around as if looking for something, and turned and walked through an opening and into the back office. Almost immediately, a door adjacent to the desk opened and a man wearing a Brooklyn Dodgers ball cap came walking out. He was toothless and wore a red and black plaid shirt with old jeans. He was wearing a hotel name badge, Carl. 

"I can get those bags for you." Without prompting, he grabbed the bag with his fingertips, the nails long and dirty, and started down the hallway. He made it to the lighthouse painting on the wall, turned right, and vanished from sight.

Ray came back up behind the desk and smiled. "Sorry about that folks, couldn't find the key."

"Hey, some dude named Carl just grabbed our bags. Where is he taking them? We don't even know which room."

"Oh, he's our bell boy. Sorry for the way he's dressed folks, he's a little special in the head, troubled childhood. Rumor has it he killed his mother and father in a fire he set, many years ago. They said he had had enough of his father's hand and his mother's ignorin' it. We don't reckon any of that's true, you'd understand if you talked to him, but I guess you just never know about some people, do ya? Old Carl never did us wrong. He don't know no better."

"No, you sure don't know. So, anyway, which room did you say?"

"Oh right. You're in Room 12. Down the hall, make a right, and it's the last door on the left. Or you can go through the big room, nice little shortcut there, and you can see them setting up for the party later. Hope you're going to be there. Free for all guests. Here are your keys."

Michael grabbed her hand and walked with her. Dual wooden doors had been opened into the lobby and she could see inside the room where a few people were setting up. A large witch mannequin was being hoisted into the center of the room near the stage. Orange and black streamers were being hung from the ceiling and walls. A drum set was being assembled on the stage. A middle-aged woman came walking towards them and she smiled at them gracefully.

"Hello. Are you two staying here tonight? Make sure you stop in here after the festival. We're having a costume party! 10:00 sharp! All the guests and friends in the community are invited! It will be swell!"

"That sounds great ma'am!" Sarah said. Over the lobby speaker, a DJ's voice echoed, talking about the new #1 hit for this week. The theme from Dragnet. New number 1 single? What radio station was this? Something about this inn seemed off. She couldn't put her finger on why but she thought of the front of the hotel and how its eyes winked and its mouth devoured them and how her handkerchief had disappeared. Now, the streaming 1950's radio and how nostalgic everything seemed. That was the only way she could describe that feeling in the pit of her stomach. Something was off. She was starting to like this place less and less.

Michael tugged her hand and she followed him, down the hallway. 

--------------

She had almost forgotten about her teasing him in the car and Michael was on her the second the door closed behind her. His hands were massaging her perky breasts and he was kissing her. For teasing sake, she reached out and groped him through his jeans, feeling his hard length. He arched himself into her and his hands continued their exploration of her breasts. She removed her mouth and backed up from him.

"I'm sorry, Michael. I want to take a shower. I need to wash off the creeps I've been feeling since we got here."

"Oh, Sarah, let me come with you then."

"No. I love you and I will gladly have you later, but right now, I need to get clean."

Breathlessly, he said, "Okay, okay. I'm being needy. It's what happens when you rub my dick for 10 minutes. Go ahead and shower."

After grabbing her things from the bag, she pulled the bathroom door closed behind her. She undressed, laying her clothes out on the bathroom shelf. The large bathroom mirror looked back at her nakedness and she could see her breasts, more than a handful as Michael would say, and her blue eyes, staring back at her. She smiled at herself in the mirror. She wasn't vein but sometimes it was okay to admire yourself a little, right?

The shower felt good and she took her time, cleaning every inch of her. As she got out of the shower, she grabbed the towel from off the rack and bent over to massage her hair dry with the towel. Immediately, she knew that something was wrong. A putrid smell of decay and death, hit her nose, and caused her belly to clench. She stood back up, the towel wrapping coolly around her head, and she looked into the mirror. She saw the Brooklyn Dodgers baseball cap, the plaid shirt, and the toothless grin. Carl smiled at her. 

"Hi." He mouthed noiselessly at her; his finger was perched delicately in front of his lips. "Ssshhh." His hand was holding a lit match. Her arms flew across her breasts and she screamed. The bathroom door flung open and Michael was there. He was saying something to her but she couldn't hear it, all of her attention was focused on the mirror and the man she saw there. She watched Carl step backwards slowly, his image fading through the wall, and then he dissolved out of sight. She fainted.

-----------------

The BMW was speeding along, the headlights blazing up the roadway. Clouds had rolled in since they had arrived at the Inn. The cold front that was expected tonight was nearly here, the winds had picked up and the air was much chillier.

"You've been acting strangely since we got here, Sarah. What's up with you today?"

"What's up with me? I saw Carl peeping on me in the bathroom!"

"I know, you keep saying that, but when I opened the door, no one was there but you."

"I can't believe you don't believe me."

"It isn't that I don't believe you, there's no evidence of anything. I don't know what to make of it."

She brooded as he drove towards the fair grounds. Strangely enough, her ears were throbbing and sore from popping, again, as she left the Inn. They were on Maryland's eastern shore, some of the flattest land she could think of. Why would her ears be popping? It was another strange thing to add to the list of strange things that had been happening to her ever since they decided to check into The Weary Traveler's Inn. 

Maybe Michael was right, maybe the only way to get over the jitters was to get out and enjoy the Halloween festival. Ever since her father's handkerchief was sucked down the chimney, she had been feeling off. Last month, only two days before he died, her father had given her the hand embroidered handkerchief, telling her the story about her mother giving them to him as a gift on their wedding day. He had spent the next 30 years carrying this particular one around with him. Sometimes, when she was alone, she would take it out of her purse and smell it, thinking about him. The odor was dull and mostly lost but she could make out a tiny fragment of what he smelled like when he would pull her tight, call her his little baby girl, and kiss her forehead. Losing the handkerchief had definitely made her melancholy; she couldn't blame herself too much for that. 

She had no explanation for why the bellhop, Carl, would show up in her bathroom and then vanish through the wall. When she inquired at the front desk as to his whereabouts, she was told he had gone home for the day. She wanted the police called. Michael told her she was acting crazy.

"GPS tells us we're here, Sarah. You okay now? I'm a little worried about you."

"Yeah, I think I'm fine."

They pulled into the parking lot of what she could only describe as a Halloween Holiday explosion. Eight orange and black circus tents were spread out across a large fenced in area. Orange fencing, with white fabric for cobwebs, surrounded the festival. Ticket takers, dressed as Frankenstein's, were standing at the entrances. Thousands and thousands of orange colored lights lit up the night sky as they dangled from poles and tents. Children were carrying glow sticks and swinging their bags filled with candy. Revelers in costumes were everywhere. There was a man on stilts walking amongst the crowd. He was wearing a tall black and white striped hat and an old tux suit jacket and giving out candy to the children and adults alike. She relaxed a little; this was going to be fun.

An ogre took their money and Frankenstein took their tickets. He green face smiled its white toothed smile and he nodded as they walked by. He lifted his arm and his oversized thumb shot up. Their walking took them down the aisle of carnival games, most with Halloween themes. There was boo bowling, a bean bag toss with witches and demons on the bags, and a red and black plastic cups ball game. Each stand was giving out candy. She wished she had packed a costume. Her red and black striped knit sheath was festive enough and it fit snugly over her small frame and accentuated her breasts. Her black tight leggings highlighted her long legs. She knew why Michael loved it so.

"Michael, I want to hear some ghost stories. Look, up there!"

Ahead on the right, a stage, and a sign proclaiming that you should "Get your Boorific Ghost Stories here!" Someone dressed as a witch was holding a microphone and speaking. "...and that's why you can't go down that road anymore!" By the time they both got there, the witch had stepped down. A cold wind gusted and a chill ran through her. 

"Michael, I forgot my sweater back at the Weary Traveler."

The witch, who was standing nearby, interrupted, "I'm sorry, did you say the Weary Traveler?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure of it? The one located on Red Brick Lane?"

"Yes, we checked in there a few hours ago. Why?"

"That's impossible. The Weary Traveler burned down fifty years ago, under very mysterious circumstances no less. Nothing, as far as I know, has been put there since. Come to think of it, nothing has gone up in that part of town in a long, long time."

"Well, I'm pretty sure we read the sign correctly, right, Michael? It's all very 1950's retro. Maybe it was just recently rebuilt?" 

The fear she had been harboring all evening came roaring back. A once burned down inn, rebuilt on the same exact spot? Was this new Inn haunted? Is that what has been troubling and scaring her all day?

"Hmm, truthfully, I'm not sure. It has been a long time since I've been out that way. I hadn't heard anything about a rebuild but you had to check into something, right? Well, it was a pleasure speaking to you but I must go." The witch turned and ran off into the crowd, her hat peaking over the tops of the crowd.

"That was weird, huh, honey?" Michael said.

"I told you that there was something weird about that place."

"Maybe its haunted!" he glared at her mockingly.

"That isn't very funny, Michael. I know what I saw in the mirror."

"I'm sure you did. Hey! I'm thirsty, let's get some cider."




No Reservation For Me



While I was in Miami about two weeks ago, I went to register for a room at a Marriott in Doral. I had made a reservation on-line about a month before that, but when I got to the desk, they told me that I had no reservation, despite showing them my printout. They thought I might have had the wrong Marriott; but when they checked there, nothing showed up in my name. I asked the desk clerk to check for space at a nearby hotel, and he said he would in a few minutes but he had to look after the others in line first.

I moved over to the side a bit and stood beside a young guy who was waiting there. "Lose your reservation, too?" I asked him. He said that he had a room but he was waiting for them to retrieve a box he had shipped ahead by UPS. I told him that I couldn't understand how they could lose my reservation because I was there the second week of every month and thought I had a standing reservation. He told me he was there every month, too, but that never happened to him at any time.

I looked at the guy and figured he was about 24 years old, tall and good looking. He was really friendly and had a great sense of humor. 

"If they can't find a room, I'd be willing to share mine with you." he offered. He said it wouldn't bother him at all. 

Just as he said that, the desk clerk started to look for a room at other hotels for me. He said he didn't hold out much hope for a room in this area, but he would do what he could do. He said that the only possibility would be to take something closer to Miami proper. Then, the guy next to me said, "Don't bother. Come bunk in with me." 

"I'm here for two nights, though." I told him.

"Me too. So if a room opens up tomorrow you can take it if you want to." I mentioned that this would be easier than trying to find a hotel in an area I did not feel safe in at night and find a hotel with a rate I could afford.

I introduced myself to him and he told me his name was Steve Myshrall or Marshall and we shook hands and headed for the elevator. I told him that I was 65 and he said he was 28 and I commented that he looked much younger. "Hey, Bruce, I had you pegged for 53, honestly. You hold your age really well, and you're in pretty good shape for a retiree."

We got to the room, and all the only bed was a king-size bed and a roll-out cot. Naturally, I told him that I would take the cot. "Hey, this is a huge bed. You can share it. I'd have to take a bus over to your side to meet up with you." he joked.

"Whatever you want, Steve. I've slept on these pull-outs before and they are back-killers," I told him. "Besides, I think we are safe with each other."

"We'll see about that, Big Boy." he said laughingly.

"I can handle myself, You Brute," I joked back.

We put our clothes in hangers and headed out for dinner at an Italian restaurant which was about a ten-minute walk from the hotel. We decided to share a bottle of wine, although I am not a wine drinker. I thought it was a little classier than beer with chateaubriand. We chatted about each other's family, job, and sports. He was extremely amiable, and his fantastic smile made you really comfortable.

After dinner, we went into a bar across from the restaurant and ordered another drink and watched some b-ball--the sport next to cricket that I hate. We got to learn more about each other's likes and dislikes and found out that we had only two things that were in contrast to each other: his love for basketball and my love for hockey.

Around ten, we decided to call it a night and head back to our room. The room was very nice with two large windows that overlooked the city. I was standing by the window looking at the city lights and told him to come have a look. He gazed out the window and said, "There is supposed to be a lunar eclipse tonight. Maybe we can see it from here." We looked out the window and could see the full, bright moon just over the top of the building across from ours.

"I think it's supposed to be around 10:30 or so that the eclipse will start. We should be able to see it really well from here." I said. He agreed and suggested that we stand there a while and at least watch it start.

"I'm going to get rid of some of these clothes if you don't mind, Steve. I've been in them all day."

"That's a good idea, Bruce. I think I'll join you. Hope you don't mind me being in my underwear. I'm not a pyjamas type of guy, although my wife is trying to reform me." he said.

"I don't mind at all, Steve. That will be my attire of choice. After all, I don't want to upstage your wardrobe." I joked with him.

So, here we were--two guys standing in their shorts looking out of a window at a full moon. Does this sound manly or what??? As we were standing there, I pointed out a shooting star to him, and he moved behind me, but it was too late. However, as he moved behind me, he stayed a little later than I thought, but I didn't care. I could feel his body next to mine, and it wasn't so bad at all. After all, this wasn't my first encounter.

He moved back over to my left and stood at the window, but instead of looking out the left pane, he moved right beside me and used that as his vantage point. His body was now touching mine and I could feel some heat eminating from him. I had a feeling that something was going to happen that night, but I wasn't sure who was going to be the instigator.

Finally, sometime after 11:00, the moon was partially covered, but the clouds were moving in and pretty soon, our view was obscured, so we decided it wasn't much sense staring at a moon we couldn't see, so we went to the bed.

When we got in bed, neither of us laid down on the edge. We were pretty much in the middle, but there was space between us. He turned on the TV and we waited for Jay Leno to do his monologue and do his Jay Walking bit, then shut off the TV and lights. The room was not entirely dark because of the lights from the street outside.

Steve rolled over on his side, but not away from me, although his back was to me. I laid on my back and just stared at the ceiling.

"Bruce, have you ever tried it with a man?"

"Yeah, a few times. What about you?"

"Yes, I have many times. My wife knows that I did and she is comfortable with it. What about your wife?"

"Heavens, no! She is so straight and vanilla that she wouldn't even listen to a conversation about it." As we continued talking about it, I moved my body into his back and curled into his fetal position; put my arm around his stomach and kept on talking. I don't know why I became so aggressive, but I immediately reached down inside his shorts and took a hold of his cock. Fuck, it felt good.

"Can I suck you off, Steve?" I asked him.

"Sure. Let's get rid of these clothes." he suggested.

I moved down in the bed a bit, threw off the blanket, and took his shorts down. I could see his cock in semi-lit room and moved my head down to rest it on his belly. As I moved my lips around his belly, I stroked his cock up and down until the drops of precum leaked out.

"Lick the cum off my dick, Bruce. I want to feel your tongue swirling around its head. Why don't you reverse positions so I can have your cock, too?" he remarked.

"Not yet, Steve. I want to enjoy this and treat you to a good blow." I slid down some more and took his cock in my mouth just below his purple bulb. I moved my tongue around and around and he jerked his hips up and down, hinting for me to take more, but I had my hand below the head so that only a small portion of his cock could go in my mouth.

"Oh fuck, that feels good, Bruce. Get ready for some ass play, if that's okay with you." I just grunted uh-huh and his finger found my hole. It was so fucking hot that I removed my hand from aroudn his dick and took the whole thing in my mouth all the way down to his pubic hairs and back again. I probably had his cock further in my throat than anyone I had ever sucked before and I was vociferously fucking his cock with my mouth and enjoying every bit of it. I used my right hand to explore that magic space between his bag and his ass-hole by running my fingernails back and forth.

"Bruce, I'm going to cum if you keep that up. Swing around so I can have your cock, too." he said. I eased up a bit and let him take my cock in his hand. He licked me up and down the sides, kissed the tip of my cock and moved his hand around to grasp my ass. Then he took my whole cock in his mouth and bobbed up and down. This felt so good: he was giving me one of the best blowjobs I ever had and his finger was going deeper and deeper into my hole.

We swung our bodies around so that we were actually lying on top of each other instead of side-by-side. Since I was on top of him, he had better access to my hole than I did; and for the first time in my life, I felt someone's tongue at my ass. My whole body shook when he started rimming me.

"Like this, Bruce?"

"Fuck, yes. It's amazing."

"Let's stop for a minute, Bruce. I want you to sit on my chest and lean back, then I can get to your happy hole while I jerk you off." We did that for a bit, but I didn't want to cum just yet, so I asked him to stop and move into position to fuck my face until he came. I now had his cock in my mouth, his balls in my hand; and he reached behind himself and took my cock in his hand and started to jerk me off. I was actually going wild with this cock-sucking.

"Fuck my mouth, Steve. Give me your hard cock. Shove it all the way down." I urged him. He moved both his hands to the back of my head, gripped my hair and violently fucked my mouth. I could feel his body starting to stiffen.

"I'm going to cum, Bruce. How do you want it?" he asked.

"Anywhere at all, Steve. Just give me your cum."

I reached down to my cock and jerked off while he started to cum. The first spurts went into my mouth, then he pulled back and bit and let the rest fly onto my face and hair while I continued to jerk myself off. He took his cock and rubbed the cum all over my face with it, then put it back into my mouth and I finished him off.

"I'm going to cum, Steve." I warned him, but he didn't reply. He just moved down my body and took my cock in his mouth and at the same time shoved one finger entirely up my ass and it made me blow my entire load without warning him. He just vigorously sucked and sucked and sucked and finger-fucked me fast and furiously. It was the best orgasmic experience I ever had.

We got up and went to the shower together. The warm water got me hot again and I dropped to my knees and sucked him hard and begged him to cum on my face, which he did as the warm water rinsed it off.

"Want to fuck me, Bruce," he asked. I told him that I wasn't an ass-fucker, but I would play there if he wanted to. He leaned up against the back wall while the water poured over my back. I slid my cock between his ass-cheeks and he asked me to fuck him, but I said no. However, I let my cock slide in and out of the space between his legs as if I were fucking him. I slid back and forth many times in a fucking motion and he was moaning about how good it felt. Finally, I reached around the front and took hold of his cock again and started to masturbate him while I fake-fucked his behind. 

"I'm ready to cum, Steve. Are you?"

"Yes, I am, Bruce. Slide your cock back and let the cum fill my ass, please."

I took one hand and moved my cock back to the entrance of his ass and let it go. Did that ever feel good.!

He turned around to face me; and catching me off-guard he kissed my mouth, sticking his tongue in. I was so horny that I just had to reciprocate by putting one arm around his neck and the other hand down to his cock. We just rocked back and forth with my hand holding both cocks together until we both came.

"You're so fucking hot, Bruce." he said

"So are you, Steve. I've never sucked a guy like that before. I've never played with a guy's ass or let him play with mine before, either. You're fucking fantastic. I think I could suck you all night."

"Me too. Your cock is just right for getting down my throat and your cum tastes pretty good. I'm glad we're here for two nights." We kissed again and got out of the shower and toweled off and got in bed.

We didn't have any more sex that night, but we did cuddle up together and could feel our cocks moving around because they were touching.

The next night we repeated the previous night's activities, but this time I got a little braver around his ass and spent more time fingering him, but I didn't get to the rimming part. I still don't think that I am ready for it.

The following day was check-out day and I was awakened by feeling his lips around my cock. I reciprocated in a 69 with him. We came in each other's mouth; got up to shower and head off for work, then home. We exchanged coordinates and agreed to notify each other when our next trip to Florida would be so we could meet up.

I can't wait. He's a better lover than my wife.



No Reservation



The cider was piping hot; the smell of sweet cinnamon was making her taste buds delirious. The cider turned out to be delicious and her frayed nerves were soothed. Even with the cider, the popped feeling in her ears hadn't subsided. She'd tried unsuccessfully to clear it; she had chewed a piece of gum, held her nose and blew. Nothing. 

She won a pumpkin in the toss game, they shared some hot dogs over by the bonfire, felt each other up while riding the scary hayride, heard a few spooky stories about a witch that haunted the nearby woods, and kissed a lot under the artificial orange sky glowing from the circus tents. An hour had passed and their feet were growing tired but when she saw the sign for the haunted corn maze, she knew he wouldn't be able to pass it up.

"Come on, Sarah! Let's go in the corn maze!"

"Mike, I've already been freaked out enough tonight. That zombie that jumped out at me on the hayride almost made me wet my pants. I'm not sure I can take anymore today."

"We'll be fine! Come on, hold my hand. I'll be your big strong protector man."

-----------------

She walked behind him, his head outlined by the faintly orange sky. As they entered the deeper part of the maze though, the corn wrapped itself around them like a blanket, cutting off what little light there was. He had released her hand to brush away some fallen corn stalks that was blocking their path. She was struggling to keep up with him; it was so hard to see and her head and ears were throbbing. She squeezed her eyes closed for relief but she ached. Her feet pounded the dirt, blindly feeling their way. When she opened her eyes, she saw his outline turn the corner, heading off to the left. Or, wait; was that him to the right? She veered left, saw him, and she cried out.

"Michael!" No answer. The path shifted and then it branched, she took the right fork. She called out his name again.

"Mike! Where the hell are you?" She heard him from somewhere behind her.

"Sarah! Over here!"

She turned around, heading back down the path, following his voice. How had they gotten separated? "Mike! I'm lost!"

"Keep coming! I can see you!"

She walked faster down the path and could make out the outline of someone up ahead. The darkness made it too difficult to tell but (maybe?) it was him. She could feel the blood rushing in her popped ears; her feet were pounding against the hard packed dirt. "Sarah! Where are you going?" Now, Michael was off to the right. Who was that to the front of her? She meant to turn around but instead, hit a corn stalk lying across the path, tripped, and fell face first to the ground. 

She could smell the earth and corn on the cold ground. Her hair had blown across her face and was tangled up in the dirt. Suddenly, she heard footsteps coming towards her, the feet shuffling along the earth. "Michael! Is that you?"

No answer. She sat up and spun around. At that moment, a crack of moonlight burst from the clouds and revealed the shadow of the ball cap, cockeyed on his head, the plaid shirt, and the toothless grin. He was shuffling towards her, his arms wide. His mouth opened, as if to speak, his fingers flexing and releasing, reaching for her. His hand held a lighter, his fingers flicking it, trying to get it to light. 

There was no time to waste. She stood up and sprinted to her left, barreling her way into the corn, paying no attention to paths or boundaries. She ran. The corn slapped at her face, her chest, and her thighs. She didn't care. She had to get away from him, get out, find Michael, put this whole day behind her. She heard crunching corn stalks behind her. Her feet stumbled out onto a path. She saw an outline, which could be Michael, (?maybe Carl?) and she ran, swiveling her head backwards, and saw no trace of Carl. Michael caught her as she ran by.

"Holy crap! Sarah! Where did you come from?

"Michael, God damn it! Where the hell did you go? How could you leave me out there by myself?"

"Wait, wait. I didn't leave you. I thought you were right behind me!"

"Ever since we got here, all this crazy shit that I've been going through, you haven't cared one bit. This isn't funny anymore, Michael. I want to go home. Our real home. I've had enough here."

"Please, honey, listen. Honestly, I think you're still on edge from your Dad. It has all your thoughts twisted."

"Twisted? Look, don't bring my father into this. It isn't him I've been seeing in the mirror or the cornfield."

"Your nerves are frayed. You lost the handkerchief and I get that it would bother you, but you're making up some crazy stuff."

"I'm not making anything up, Michael! I don't care if you believe me or not!" She needed to get away. She wanted to scream at him, shove her finger in his face, and call him every name she could think of. Instead, she ran. Faces swirled through the crowds, all the colors running together, the light from the tents pulsated. She cried as she ran. She whipped through the exit, passing the Frankenstein's in a blur, and made her way to the car. She lay down on the hood and stared up at the swirling clouds, the moon veiled. A gust of wind blew her nipples hard. She wished she had remembered her coat.

Maybe Michael was right. Maybe this was because of her father, she had been burying those thoughts and feelings. Losing the handkerchief today had sent her into a tailspin. Carl was a nobody, certainly not someone she should be afraid of. No reason she would see him in random locations. Her imagination was running away from her, she was being silly. She heard footsteps and saw Michael standing over her.

"I'm sorry I haven't been more supportive. I haven't known what to say, Sarah. Maybe this trip was too soon. We should have gone to that spa you love in Western Maryland instead. Please forgive me."

"I do. I'm scared, Michael. What am I going to do without my father? Please, hold me."

Michael lay on top of her and held her tight. Her sobs came. For the first time today, she felt protected and she gripped him tighter. He started kissing her, his warm tongue probing her mouth, and his hands were kneading at her breasts. He rubbed his finger over her nipple and she shuttered. She felt relaxed for the first time since they had arrived at the Inn. A warm heat overcame her and she bucked her hips, pushing her precious mound against his length. He responded by thrusting himself back along her dress, and her pussy quivered. With her hands, she pushed him up. "Let's get out of here, Michael." 

"As another surprise, I bought your favorite wine. You can take another shower, I'll pour us some, and we can drink. Plus," he pushed himself on her clit again, "I can love on you."

"That sounds good, really good."

-----------------

The ear popping and headache went away the second she walked back into the Weary Traveler. It was strange. Stranger, was the group of people standing outside the entrance to the party room. Lucille Ball look alikes, men in suit coats with clown masks, woman dressed as black cats with pointy ears, men with fake teeth and large fake breasts, and devils, lots of those. They were smoking cigarettes and cigars, the air clogged and stifling with the stench. She still couldn't escape the feeling that in this Inn, she had traveled back in time to the 1950's. The nostalgia was too great; the past seemed to be right here with her. Michael grabbed her hand and pulled her towards the hallway and in the direction of their room. She obliged.

They clinked their wine glasses together and toasted happiness. She swirled her Cabernet around the inside of the glass. The smell was divine. She took a sip, savoring the taste in her mouth. She was naked on the bed and facing him, her breasts falling freely, the nipples taut and reaching, her legs curled under her. She had showered again, trying to scrub out the smell of the corn and dirt and the fear. Michael hung out with her in the bathroom, there was no Carl. She was relieved.

Her nerves were frayed but she leaned in and kissed Michael deeply anyway, their tongues probing each other. She could taste the wine on his tongue and lips. She pulled back and took another long sip of her wine. "I'm sorry I've been so weird today, Michael. I should've left Dad's handkerchief at home. Part of me wanted to carry a piece of him around, you know? Everything since arriving here has been odd. I know with this trip, you were trying to take my mind off of it. I love you." She reached out and grabbed his cock. "Plus, I think some of this will do me good, too. After that, a good night's sleep should fix me right up. Everything will look better in the morning."

She stroked him gently with her hand and he leaned in to kiss her again. This time, the kiss lasted longer, their tongues savoring the taste of each other. She released him and put her wine glass down on the bedside shelf. Michael was sitting Indian style and he was naked and hard. She took him in her hand again, stroking his smoothness. She ran her fingers over his sensitive head and his cock flexed, she saw his stomach go taut. She ran her fingers slowly down his shaft, watching it jump from the sensation.

"Oh. You're going in for the kill already huh?" he asked teasingly.

She leaned in and took him in her mouth, sucking on his head, and plunged her mouth down to the base of his shaft and to the back of her throat. She loved his cock, loved sucking it, loved feeling it inside of her, and loved watching him come. She cupped his balls with her hand and rubbed the soft underside with her fingers.

"Sarah, oh God, I love you so."

"Of course you do." She took him in her mouth again.

He downed the rest of his wine and tried to put the glass on the shelf behind him but it wasn't on all the way and it tumbled to the ground and she heard it shatter. His back was on the bed, his cock was pointing upright, and she was burying it in her warm mouth. A few more strokes would be enough, she knew, and she released him. Her hand wrapped around his length, holding it upright, and she straddled his cock, plunging it into her warmth. She loved this position; she was in total control over her own pleasure. His length engulfed her and she moaned loudly into the quiet room. Slowly she descended and then lifted her quivering pussy again, her muscles clenching themselves around his pulsating length. She pitched forward and rubbed her smooth hands over his hard chest, his tight abs. Her breasts were dangling over his face like sweet forbidden fruit, and he took one in his mouth. His tongue flicked her nipple. She moaned loudly.

She rode him harder, feeling his firmness deep within her. The room was dark; no light was penetrating through the blinds from outside. The wind was whipping against the window panes, rattling them; faintly she heard the sound of rain. The wind gust made her think of her father's handkerchief again, lying somewhere in the deep recesses of this Inn. Suddenly, without knowing why, the Brooklyn Dodgers ball cap came to her mind again, then the head it was attached to. She could see his grin and hear his scratchy voice, calling for her. She had no idea why she would think of Carl. He was a simple man, a pyro probably, living in Maryland, with parental problems. Why would she see him in visions and mirrors? Why would he chase her in the corn field? The wind rocked outside, slamming against the walls, she felt his length impaling her, but her thoughts went to his lighter, the story of his parents, and that look in his eye.

She still wanted out of here. She knew that with every fiber of her being. This inn was bad. They should pack their stuff and get the hell out, run away as fast as they can. Something bad was coming, she didn't know how she knew that but she did. Michael grunted, her straddling still forcefully pushing it in and out of her, and he erupted, his come shooting out, flooding her inner walls. He moaned and screamed and leaned forward to wrap his arms around her, pulling her tightly. Her thoughts were cut off by his kiss. 

"I love you, Sarah." he said. 

They kissed and lay down together, their bodies spooning. Michael was asleep within minutes. Fragments of Carl's face, her father's voice, and the wind whipping outside were all she could think of. She knew sleep would be difficult in coming.

-----------------

She had been dozing but not sleeping. She had strange visions. A handkerchief was dipped in apple cider and carried by a man with a Dodger cap. It wasn't Carl but her father and he had no teeth. Then she was running along a quiet country road, it was dark, and her feet were pounding against the pavement. She could sense something or someone following her. She ran harder, blood pounding in her ears, and he came closer, she felt his finger tips on her back, and then his hand was on her shoulder, and she was thrown backwards into him, and for a split second she smelled his foul stench. Then, she was in a cardboard box, or was that where she was? The smell of cardboard was unmistakable but what would she be doing in there? The walls and flaps were closed and there was total darkness. She pushed up against the top and the flaps bulged outward. Moon light peeked through the opening. She could see his toothless grin staring down at her, his hat was covering the top of his face, the large white B on his hat spinning slowly. He mouthed something, Get out. 

She opened her eyes and nearly cried out, she was sweating. Outside, she could hear the rain and wind pounding and slapping against the walls and windows. Maybe the cardboard box was the house and she was trapped within it. Who or what was putting these visions in her head? She knew now there would be no way they could leave now, the weather was too severe. 

What made her get out of bed wasn't her visions, or the wind, or Michael's snores, but a noise, swish - boom, coming from the hallway. Swish -- boom. Over and over again, like someone walking while dragging a useless leg. Swish -- boom. It was monotonous and distracting. She climbed out of Michael's arms and fetched her dress from earlier. She slipped it over her naked body. She crept to the door and unlocked it, leaning her head into the dark hallway. Orange lights had been strung along the ceiling line and were glowing. She glanced around, searching for the source of the noise, but only managed to find an older couple who was walking away from her room and down the hall. The lady was wearing a beautiful dress with a black mask, and the gentleman was wearing a 1930's gangster style suit. At the sound of the door squeaking, the lady turned and stared at her.

"Hello? Are you planning on coming to the party?"

"Party?" the air had a hazy quality and her head was foggy, as if in a dream. She couldn't be dreaming though, the air felt muggy, and the smell of cigarettes and cigars was too strong for a dream. Still, everything seemed very dream-like, slow. "What party?"

"Why, the party at this very inn, dear! Please, won't you join us?"

She was so tired but her visions had scared her. Maybe some time out would do her good. "Yes, sure I would love to."

"I have an extra mask if you need one! My name is Margaret and this here is Bruce. We're the Haskins! It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Sarah. Sarah Billings."

"Well, Sarah, I'm just delighted. Come, let's go and join the festivities."

The mask fit snugly, the elastic strap was stretched tightly around her head and the black roughness felt scruffy on her face. They arrived at the double doors from their hallway and made a grand entrance into the party room. The room was full of party-goers, many of whom had clearly been drinking, a lot. The room was loud. Bruce handed her a cup of something and she smelled it. Gin. She took a sip. Margaret led her over to a group of people who were standing around talking and she introduced them. 

"Someone will walk on the moon, you'll see!" a lady in a poodle skirt said.

"Oh, Joanna, you're dreaming, you silly thing." The lady wearing a witch's costume turned towards her, "Hey, Sarah! It's my pleasure to meet you!"

Billy, the short man on the end was staring at her suspiciously. "Are you from here?" he asked.

"No, I live in Pennsylvania. I'm just visiting this lovely town with my boyfriend for the weekend. We came for the festival." Sarah said.

"Oh, no, I mean, are you from here? I've never seen you before."

"What do you mean, from here? I'm not understanding you."

A lady dressed in a devil's costume was standing next to Billy, her arm in his. "Don't torture the poor girl, Billy. Leave her be. Of course she's from here. You can't possibly know everybody every time." 

"I don't think she is." Billy said matter-of-factly.

"Hello, Sarah, was it? I'm Judy. You'll have to forgive my husband here. He doesn't know what he's talking about. One too many cocktails, if you know what I mean."

"Yes, I believe I do know what you mean. Lovely party here."

Billy leaned in and whispered in her ear, "Sarah, there are forces here that you cannot possibly understand. I don't know how you got here but my advice is to leave, now."

"Honey" Judy pulled her husband back and smiled weakly at her.

She didn't know what to do. Billy was talking nonsense. Or was he? She needed to understand more and she turned to ask him. Everyone in the room gasped. The party's attention was now focused on the three band members walking back towards the stage. They sat down behind their instruments and started to play. The song was old, like all the others she had heard today. Was this an old folk's home? The band was singing about a heart beating forever and ever but the song was plotting and slow and boring. Everyone else was singing. She heard Judy turn to Billy, "I just love this song!"

There was a clock on the wall. 11:32pm. She took a long, deep sip of her gin, feeling the liquid spill down her throat. It gave off a nice gentle burn. The alcohol went straight to her head, the wine from earlier had clearly worn off, and she laughed a little at how silly she had been all day. Ghosts? Strange people in the mirror? These things were impossible. These were nice people, out for a great time on Halloween night, and this Inn was lovely. Her eyes looked around the room and saw no ball caps, no toothless people, no creepy mirrors with people hiding in them, and no one was walking through walls. Besides Billy's odd comment, things seemed more normal than they had since she arrived. The lead singer was telling everyone about a sweetheart, when the explosion happened. She was blown across the room and smashed into the wall and crumpled to the ground. Her world went black.

Her toes wouldn't move. That was the first thought she had after 5 minutes(?), 10 minutes(?), an hour(?) of lying here. Nothing was clear. She thought about Michael, back in the room; she was hoping he heard the explosion and was coming for her. She concentrated hard on getting her toes to work and finally, after some effort they wiggled. Her legs started responding to commands and she finally sat up, opened her eyes, and couldn't believe what she was seeing.

The room was littered with maimed bodies, she noticed pieces of arms and legs scattered. Smoke was thick in the room; the visibility close to nothing. She needed to find Michael and she stood up. Her legs were a little wobbly but otherwise she seemed okay. With her arms in front she plotted forward, slowly, being careful not to trip. Her foot stepped over what remained of Billy, his face distorted and partially missing. Slowly, she continued and made it out of the party room and into the hall. Smoke swirled in the hallway and fire licked along the ground in patches. She avoided them, the heat from the flames was heavy and acrid, and within a few minutes, she arrived at her room. The door was open. As she walked inside the first thing she noticed was the smell. Old, rot. On the bed, Carl was thrusting a knife into Michael's stomach; blood was pouring out of the fresh wound and lying in a large pool that had coagulated on the bed. Carl turned and faced her. He smiled. She saw the window, over Carl's head, and thought about trying to leap through it. Would it shatter, allowing her to break free and into the rainy night? Could she just drive, get the help she needed? Or, was this a dream and maybe she would wake up any minute? Carl pulled the knife from Michael's lifeless corpse and jumped off the bed. She had no time to think and turned and fled the room. 




No Reservation



His footsteps were behind her. Down the hall she ran, smoke and fire billowing all around her, choking her throat and lungs. She could still hear him, thump, thumping down the hallway. She ran past the party room which was fully ablaze. Around the hallway she went, fighting through the smoke, the lighthouse painting on the wall was on fire, flames shooting out from the top of the lighthouse. The front desk area was on fire, the desk orange from the flames. Ray, the front desk clerk was slumped over the top, his arms extended, his hands reaching for the ground, blood dripping from the top of his head and pooling on the ground. On the couch was a lifeless couple, their bodies fully engulfed in flames. She ran to the front door and pressed her hands into the doors. The knob turned freely within her grasp but the doors wouldn't budge. She turned the knob and threw her body against it. The doors didn't move. Then, she saw the bar that had been nailed to the front door. It was sealing everyone in. She turned and saw Carl walking towards her through the swirling smoke and fire. 

"I sealed everyone in. Do you see that?"

"Yes, you sick fucker." Somewhere she heard the sound of scraping metal and cracking wood. Flames popped and cracked all around her.

"My parents needed to die. Did anyone ever tell you that? These hotel guests needed to die too. You know why Sarah?"

"No, Carl, I don't know. Let me go! Can you do that?"

He ignored her, "I love fire. Love watching things burn within. I've grown so tired of hearing the same stories from the guests, year in and year out. You remind me of my Sarah. She worked here. She didn't want to date me anymore. It was the Inn's fault. Can't you see that?"

"No, Carl, I don't see that. I see that you're crazy."

"Be nice, Sarah. We'll be spending lots of time together, you and me. You were right about one thing, this Inn is haunted. By me. Come, Sarah, feel the blade and join us, forever. There's no other way."

While he had spoken, his hair had caught on fire, and he leaped at her, his hair shimmering with flames. His body hit her in the chest and she collapsed to the ground. She screamed. Glints from the fire sparkled off the blade which was hanging precariously above his head. Then, it fell swiftly and she felt the blade sink into the soft flesh of her stomach. A tearing sensation followed and then pain unimaginable. Strangely, she felt his hardness pressing into her leg.

"We will be together forever now, Sarah. You and me. I shall enjoy having you, very much." His back and now face had caught fire and his forehead was melting in front of her. She couldn't move. A sharp pain was stinging in her abdomen, again, and again. All pain ceased. Now the flames were licking over his face. His skin was peeling in front of her, his eyes popped; the nose scrunched up and melted into his face. Then part of his ghoulish skull was revealed, the eye sockets were now empty; flames were crackling up the sides. Still, he was moving about her, his hands groping, he seemed unphased by the flames that were devouring him. She wanted to see herself, her body felt hot (was it on fire?), but she couldn't move her head or her arms or legs. Everything went orange and yellow and she thought back to the horizon line, the trees on fire, and about how she thought the inn was on fire. Maybe it always was and always will be. She knew that she would see Carl again, six years from now, at this very inn. Maybe Michael would be there. She heard Carl laughing and cackling with glee. Noise stopped. Her world went black and she knew no more.

----------------------

"This is a risky investment, John, I know you know it."

"Quincy, there's no doubt about it, but I'm telling you, this place has that vibe, can't you feel it? Like the money vibe! We're sitting on a gold mine!"

"Aren't you wondering why we got this land for so cheap and so quickly?"

"I heard the story about it. Long time ago, early 1950's or something, there was an inn here. Everyone was burned to death during a fire on Halloween night in 1953. It was the Samhain Hallows Festival, like we had 3 weeks ago. They say this area is haunted; no one will come out here. It was 56 years ago for Christ's sakes! I don't believe a word of that superstitious nonsense."

"I'm sorry, John, but this place does give me the creeps. Like, something is off. Does that make sense? Don't you feel that? Hey, who do you suppose that BMW belongs to? Beautiful car. Weird that someone would park it in the old rotted parking lot."

"Not sure. I'll turn it over to the police, have it towed. Demolition of these trees and brush and old inn foundation starts next week. There is going to be one fine shopping outlet out here, Quincy. It's sorely needed, in my opinion."

The wind kicked up, sending a chill through him, and his hat went flying off his head. He bent down to get it and saw something skim quickly along the ground. He grabbed it. It was a damp handkerchief, with the initials SG on it. It was of good quality fabric, a little washing would fix it right up. He absentmindedly put it in his coat pocket and grabbed his phone. He had some more calls to make.



No Reserve



For my friend Joe...It's finally done so now you can stop e-mailing me!

The gavel came down with a resounding clank and the room fell silent. $2,000,000. That was highest price ever bid for a Renault; at least as far as Rhonda knew. She worked the podium at Sotheby's for almost 5 years now and saw many a priceless painting come through, but this one intrigued her. Not because of how much it sold for, but because to her, it wasn't particularly special. She had an eye for great works of art and this painting, though good, certainly was not worth the money paid for it. She wondered why the bidder would waste such an insane amount of money on something that was barely worth much more than the canvas it was painted on. As the stage crew arrived to carry it away, she eyed the array of pale brown colors and horribly out of place pastels. There was nothing particularly moving about the piece and this intrigued her even more. Her gaze fell once more to the audience where she saw the buyer sitting, 2nd row from the front, 5th chair in. He was gleaming. He had short brown hair and hazel eyes. Very well dressed. She thought his suit was Armani, but she wasn't sure. His blissful countenance made her smile.

The remainder of the auction completed without incident, but Rhonda couldn't help but wonder about the Renault and its over zealous buyer. As Rhonda prepared to leave the stage, she saw "Mr. Renault" gathering his things and preparing to talk with the cashier about payment. Rhonda stepped down from the podium and waited patiently while the transaction was settled.

When the deal was completed, "Mr. Renault" turned around to find her outstretched mahogany brown hand waiting for him. At first he was startled to find someone standing directly behind him, but was pleasantly surprised to find it was the very attractive auctioneer that sold him his precious painting. 

"Joseph Thompson," he said grabbing her hand with both of his and giving her a warm smile in the process.

"Rhonda Simmons," she replied and smiled in kind. "I was just wondering what kind of man would drop a cool 2 mil for that...piece." Joseph furrowed his brow as he wasn't sure if she was being facetious or just arrogant. He stepped back in an attempt to get a better look at her and dropped her hand as he did.

"Well Ms. Simmons, let's just say it happens to have a lot of – sentimental value. My family had very close ties with the late Mr. Renault and I promised his family I'd secure the piece for them." He watched as Rhonda placed both hands behind her back and eye him intently. She was an attractive black woman, about 5' 8" with a medium frame. She was wearing a simple form-fitting black dress that stopped at the thigh. She wore frameless glasses that seemed to seamlessly blend into her silky smooth brown skin. Her hair was black, long he supposed. Maybe slightly past shoulder-length. It was hard to tell precisely since it was wound so tightly in a flattering bun.

"So you do charity work, then?" Rhonda quipped as she stared down at his Bruno Magli's.

This synched it for Joseph, it was definitely arrogance. The smile quickly vanished from his face and he became visibly annoyed. "What exactly can I do for you, Ms. Simmons?" He asked not wanting a response.

"It's not what you can do for me, it's what I can do for you. I came by to make you an offer. You obviously are a man with" she looked back at the stage where the painting once stood, "interesting tastes. How do you feel about antiques?"

"An antique what?" he replied with his interest suddenly piqued.

Rhonda smiled. "Come with me" she said as she crooked her finger and headed toward the stage entrance. Joseph followed close behind, secretly admiring the alluring view.

They reached the display area behind the stage for items that were to be auctioned off at tomorrow's sale. The items were locked behind a huge glass box with a security guard on opposite sides. Within it were countless paintings, jewelry, vases and what looked like an Easter egg with gold trimmings. The pair viewed the contents of the vault from a safe distance.

"See that egg?" Rhonda said pointing at it through the glass. "I want you to buy it."

"How much is it worth? What's so special about it?" Joseph eyed the egg seductively, almost as though the mystery surrounding it was arousing.

"Oh, I'm guessing around $10,000 or so." She turned to stare at the egg. "Not a hell of a lot for a man of your stature, right?" 

"Why do you want me to buy it? I would imagine a Sotheby's auctioneer would be able to afford that, no?" He picked a piece of lint off of the shoulder of her dress and tossed it to the floor.

Rhonda turned to him abruptly and laughed. "Oh, I don't want it. If you buy it you can keep it... resell it privately... whatever. I don't care."

"Well, why the ...?" 

Rhonda interrupted him already knowing what he was about to ask. 

"Why do I want you to buy it?" She looked down at the floor. "Do you know a Samuel Simmons?"

"The famous art collector? Of course. He's bought some of the most precious pieces at Sotheby's. Renowned for his interest in antiques. What about him?"

"He's my hus—EX... husband." She looked toward the glass vault again. "We bought that piece at an auction in Paris about 3 years ago. We purchased it together, but at the divorce proceedings the judge decided it didn't belong to either of us and that it should be sold on the auction block. I happen to know for a fact that Sam has a buyer coming in tomorrow to bid on it for him."

"You just don't want him to have it." Joseph stood behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. They both stood staring at the egg.

Rhonda turned and faced Joseph once again. "I love the piece, but it would only serve as a reminder of my 7 years of hell being married to that man. I'd rather have a stranger own it than him. He only wants it so that he can be sure I don't get it. The only way he can ensure that is to have someone else buy it for him."

"What if the bidding goes beyond $10,000? He might be willing to pay more than it's worth to own it."

Rhonda laughed. "He won't. He's frugal if nothing else. He won't pay a cent more than we paid for it. He loves his art, but his head is firmly planted in reality, I'll give him that much."

"And what do I get for my troubles?" Joseph said barely above a whisper.

"I'll happily return any amount you pay -- with interest," Rhonda said without even glancing up at him.

He whispered in her ear. "And what if I don't want money?" He took the back of his hand and slid it along the side of her neck. That small gesture sent a brush fire through the both of them.

"I'm only offering money. Take it or leave it." She stood straighter now, head higher. Joseph became fully aware that her hint of superiority had returned.

"Leave it," he said abruptly as he straightened his posture and ran his hand through his hair. "Good day Ms. Simmons." He wrapped his brown trench coat around his arm the way a waiter would a towel at a fancy restaurant. "And good luck." Joseph turned and made his way toward the backstage exit. 

Just before he could open the door, Rhonda stopped him.

"Wait!" She came running after him, her haughtiness more apparent than ever. "I don't know who or what you think I am, but..."

"Listen," Joseph interrupted, "I'm not going to debate the details with you. Either you're interested in my offer or you're not. Who or what you are is irrelevant. You want something, and I want something in return. All I want to know is...do we have a deal or don't we?"

"You fucking bastard!" Rhonda folder her arms.

"I'll take that as a yes?" Joseph pulled his wallet from his back pocket and took out a business card. He found a pen in his coat pocket and wrote down an address on the card and handed it to Rhonda. "Meet me at this address tomorrow at 7:00pm. Bring an overnight bag...and an open mind." He smiled and walked out the stage door.

The next evening's auction went exactly as planned. Samuel's secret buyer stopped slightly below the item's expected selling price. Joseph only wound up paying $8500 for the antique egg. Rhonda was shocked and relieved Joseph got the artifact at such a steal.

At the end of the auction, just as Rhonda was stepping down from the podium, she saw Joseph sitting in the audience staring at her and tapping his watch. She looked at hers. 6:15 PM. She thought about the small overnight bagged she had packed in her car. 

She watched as Joseph picked up his belongings and headed to the main exit door. He stumbled through the maze of the crowd and walked out the door without even so much as a cursory glance back in her direction. The thought of what the night had yet to bring made Rhonda's stomach tighten. She took a deep breath, turned toward the stage's exit door and headed to her car.

Rhonda arrived at the address scribbled on the card and found it was a large apartment complex. She walked through the front doors of the brownstone looking for apartment number 202. When she found the door, she saw a small envelope taped to the door with the name Ms. Simmons scrawled on the front. Inside the envelope she found a key and a note which read:

PLEASE COME IN. I WILL RETURN SHORTLY, I HAD TO MAKE A 

SHORT STOP BEFORE OUR MEETING. PLEASE GO STRAIGHT UP THE 

STAIRS, FIRST DOOR ON YOUR RIGHT AND WAIT FOR ME THERE.

Rhonda took the key and unlocked the door. Inside, the apartment had a smoky blackness to it that frightened and unnerved her as she felt her stomach tighten once more. She could see the shadowy outlines of what appeared to be two huge sculptures of some mineral or other. She reached out to feel one and its cool surface sent a chill down her spine. She could also make out the shadow of a banister that lead to a steep stairway. Instead of fumbling around looking for the lights, she decided it was easier to try to make her way up the stairs and endeavor to find the bedroom in the darkness.

As Rhonda made it to the crest of the stairway, she made an immediate right turn, and stubbed her toe on a hall table that was impossible to see from that angle in the dark. She cursed the pain and limped a little further along the wall until she came across a door. She searched for the door knob and when she found it, turned it and walked inside.

Inside, there was still blackness but this time she searched the adjoining walls to find a light switch. It took a couple of minutes to find, and when she flicked it on, she could see the layout of the room in its entirety. It was surprisingly bare. In the center of the room stood a King sized canopy bed with no draperies. Across from that was a full sized Cherry Wood dresser and mirror combo with little tassels that hung from the top corners of the mirror. Next to the window was an antique Queen Victorian chair with a DVD case laying face down in the seat. She flipped it over and glanced at the title, "Vampyros Lesbos." 

"What!?" She laughed out loud. "What a weirdo."

Rhonda slumped her overnight bag onto the floor and sat on the edge of the bed trying to absorb her predicament. How did she get into this mess and why didn't it surprise her? Samuel always was able to push her buttons, and this hopefully would be the last time she would have to sacrifice anything for him. 

Just as she lay back on the bed with her arms spread, she heard the front door open and shut down stairs. "It's Joseph," she thought. She sat up abruptly and looked toward the bedroom door. As the footsteps ascended the stairs, her heart jumped into her throat. The door opened and in walked Joseph clutching his coat and clearing his throat upon entrance.

He looked up and saw Rhonda sitting on the bed staring at him.

"I see you made it. Good, I was hoping you wouldn't chicken out. I would hate to have to come looking for you," Joseph said as he hung his coat up on the hook behind the door.

He crossed the room toward her and Rhonda stood and faced him. He quickly spun her on her heels so that her back was to him and his hot breath feathered down upon her neck. 

Joseph stood behind her, his body pressed against hers and lifted up her dress from behind taking the time to let his hands feel the smoothness of the round brown globes of flesh beneath it. He ran his fingers up the lacey material of her panties, pulled at the outer elastic and slowly slid his fingers underneath. His fingers dove in between her fleshy cheeks and down toward the increasingly moist slit between her thighs. Rhonda's initial reaction was to gasp and the arch her body made ground her buttocks into Joseph's crotch. Rhonda felt his penis twitch and instinctively pulled away.

"Shhh", Joseph consoled as he pulled her body back against his. Rhonda again could feel his cock rising in his pants. Joseph let her dress fall back down around her legs and turned her so that she now faced him.

He reached behind her and grabbed her ass forcing her breasts into his chest. As their bodies connected again, his lips found hers and mauled her mouth. She kissed him back with such an intensity it made him groan. Her tongue danced inside his mouth and made small little circles at the tip of his tongue. Joseph shuddered and broke their kiss. He began to unbutton his shirt and watched in awe as Rhonda slowly lowered herself onto her knees, took her hands and ran it along the length of the shaft protruding through his slacks. She could see the outline of it through his pants and her mouth started to water. She licked her lips and ran them up the side of his ever stiffening bulge and he shuddered again.

His shirt now long forgotten on the floor, her hands relentlessly fondling their new found treasure, Joseph feverishly unbuckled his pants and slid them down his thighs, kicked off his shoes and stepped out of his pants in one fluid motion. Rhonda was impressed. She took her hand and inched along the inside of his briefs and played with is cock. Joseph closed his eyes and tilted his head back. He automatically reached for her head and pulled it toward his dick. Her hot breath sent goose bumps all over his body and a deep guttural moan escaped his throat.

Rhonda finally freed her new toy from its confines and her hot mouth devoured it instantaneously. Joseph nearly fell over from the intense pleasure her mouth was giving him. His legs were weak and he had to move them farther apart to keep his balance. He grabbed her head tighter, intentionally releasing the cumbersome bun that had been holding her hair in place like a rock. Once he pulled out the pin and threw it to the floor, her soft black hair fell to her shoulders and he grabbed a bunch of it in each hand using it to help guide his cock in and out of her mouth. Joseph pulled her head from him and backed away. He knew he would have to sit down soon as his legs were giving way beneath him. He stumbled over to the edge of the bed, his manhood still wet and standing at full attention. Rhonda crawled between his thighs and ran her tongue up the underside of his shaft. She grabbed him at the waist to get better balance and once again enveloped his cock in her mouth. The hot friction of it all sent Joseph backward onto the bed while still clutching onto Rhonda's hair. Rhonda took the entire length of him in her mouth and completely back out again letting his cock pull away from her mouth so that it bounced in front her.

"Oh, fuck", he moaned in ecstasy. The exquisite feel of him in her mouth sent his breathing into a frenzy. He gathered enough strength to sit up and pull his penis from her mouth. Rhonda, wanting helplessly to feel his thick shaft in her mouth again, sucked at his scrotum making loud slurping sounds as she did.

Joseph stood up taking Rhonda with him. He lifted her dress over her head and discarded it to the floor. He swirled her around so that now, she replaced his spot on the edge of the bed. He knelt between her thighs and pulled her black lace panties up so that it disappeared into her hot, inviting slit. Her smooth outer lips framed the taught fabric and the friction of it rubbing her clit made her squeal. He licked at her outer lips while steadfastly holding the fabric between her legs. He peeled the crotch of her panties from inside her lips and pushed it over to the side so that he could have a better view of her beautiful brown, wet mound. He impatiently dove between her legs and sucked at the stiffening nub covered by its protective hood. He took his fingers and moved the fleshy outer covering back and circled her clit with his tongue. Rhonda gasped with delirium. The look and smell of her was intoxicating and her involuntary squirms made him crave her juicy pussy even more. He probed his tongue into her hole as far as he could humanly get it and Rhonda locked her hands around his head like a vice pushing him deeper between her legs. He circled his head what little space he could move it trying to lap up every drop of her juices. She gasped again and let out a squeal that made her legs lock his head between her thighs. Joseph laughed to himself and slowly pushed his head away from her sweet, tempting cunt.

He helped Rhonda completely onto the bed and bent her at the knees, her back toward him. He quickly mounted her from behind and plunged his thick shaft into her hot, waiting furnace. The moans of pleasure escaped both of them and their bodies began to move in rhythm as their flesh became one. Upon every few thrusts, he would completely withdraw from her and slide his member up the front of her clit, deliberately bearing up on her button just enough to send small Earthquakes all through her. His body was tormenting hers and she was loving every minute of it. He took this opportunity to unfasten the hooks of the bra she was still wearing, although the majority of her bosom had abandoned the material long ago. The material fell along the side of her hanging breasts revealing the small raisins that were her nipples. The bra fell from her shoulders and it joined their pile of clothes on the floor.

Rhonda met each of his thrusts with her own and the force of their bodies coming together made wet slapping noise on impact. Rhonda's body finally collapsed on the bed and Joseph took her leg and swung it across his body making sure not to withdraw from her fiery furnace. Now he lay facing her watching her beautiful brown breasts thrash each time he entered her. He was ravenously assaulting her hole with an unconscious need to fill her with his seed. Rhonda's hand found its way between them and feverishly kneaded her clit, both of them delighting in the euphoric bliss that was emanating between their legs.

Joseph grabbed her legs at the hips and with one last powerful thrust, he filled her to the hilt, his orgasm hitting him like a brick. His cock jerked inside of her and he fell on top of her while his cock was still pumping his seed inside her. Feeling the warmth of his hot cum filling her made her come as well. She arched her back and held on to Joseph until her body stopped quivering. They both fell into a heap of tangled bodies, sweat and lust onto the bed. There they lay for several minutes recovering from their escapade. 

Their bodies met and parted three more times throughout the night until exhaustion finally overtook them and they slept until morning...

The next morning, after Rhonda had gotten showered and dressed, she returned the bedroom to say her good-byes to Joseph.

"Thanks for securing the egg for me", she said as she placed her hand on his shoulder. Joseph was still lying in bed fully naked with the covers pooled around his feet.

"Thank you for last night", he said with a wink and a smile. "Let me know if you have any more antiques that require purchasing. I'm sure we can come to some kind of arrangement."




No Reserve



Rhonda said nothing. She simply gathered her things, descended the staircase and quietly walked out the front door.

As soon as Joseph was certain Rhonda was gone, he picked up his phone and hit a number on his speed dial.

"Sam! Hey, it's Joe. Yeah, I got it. $8500 is all it took. No, no trouble at all, I was able to get Charlie to masquerade as your secret bidder in my place. Yeah, I took the egg last night and dropped it in your security box at the hotel. Let me know if there's anything else you need."

"...Will do. Oh, and by the way...you were right." He instinctively grabbed his cock and gave it an unconscious tug. "Your ex is great in the sack."

Joseph hung up the phone, smiled to himself and headed straight for the shower. 



No Resistance



He had intended to not let her occupy his mind. He had, with great convictions, settled upon limits for their conversations both in time and scope. But as he checked an instant messaging service and saw that she was there, all of those determinations evaporated. He was light headed and a stirring in his stomach swept through him, and like a man in a trance he had clicked on her name and typed "hi".

He never knew with certainty what her mood might be. Casual, or guarded... or with sweet surprising abandon. He was a careful and calculating man who prized himself in being able to stay in control in situations... and made his living with those skills. But he also knew he had crossed so many of his own boundaries, and of hers. He knew that better sense would have warned him of hitting the "send" button with some things he had shared with her. Personal confessions and embarrassing pictures of which he rolled his eyes and then blinked hard to try to forget that he had been such a fool.

Somehow he wanted her to see him, to know him... to be forewarned of his... his what? His darker soul? His wild abandon? He wasn't sure himself. This was new and uncharted waters for him and he felt as though at any moment he would be cast upon the rugged reefs or left adrift on some emotional dessert isle.

His breath came short when her response popped up "hi" to his. His fingers began to lose the dexterity of keyboard skills of which he was proud and his mind swirled. A good deep breath, and he determined to keep it casual today! "How's your day?"

He waited. He had no idea why she would bother to take her time to chat with him? He had seen her picture and knew she was cute. A thousand other men from the chat rooms would have killed to change places with him... he was strangely honored that she was so accepting of him and his interests. She replied... "I'm feeling fantastic!"

His spirit lifted and a smile crossed his face. She was in a good mood. The day before had been a day of excitement. They had chatted and set a "rendevous." It seemed that both of them felt a stirring each time they chatted and their conversations had been intimate. She had dressed for him the day before. Stockings and black lacy panties. A long skirt to cover the way she loved to pleasure herself during their conversations... sitting on her leg with her heal tucked up in intimate places.

He was a little embarrassed because he was so keyed up that he was almost beyond constraints when the telephone rang and he heard her voice. He wanted to please her and hear her voice crescendo with the pleasure of their being together, but as they talked he found himself approaching that precipice over which he had no control and he could only groan with the release that had so conquered him.

She was so sweet about it. Through the day as they "IM"ed he knew she was still not fully satiated and he had longed to have pleasured her until she could only moan "No more!" But he knew that her pleasure that day was to come at her own command and within her own relm of satisfaction.

Then the screen came up... "Can we talk?"

Wow... he felt like he had just turned a high speed turn in a jet. His eyes grayed for a moment as his heart raced. She wanted to talk by phone again. He melted for a moment before he could gather himself to answer "Yes."

Somewhere in the fog of his brain had been his resolution to "keep it casual today." But he knew there was no resistance in him to her. She had become a narcotic to him... to be with her was euphoria and to be separated meant that he thought of her constantly. To be without her was it's own kind of agony and to know that she would be calling made him nervous like an addict waiting for his "fix".

As they had done just the day before, he waited for the phone to ring trying to control himself so that he didn't make a fool of himself with his voice quivering if it wasn't her call.

The phone startled him. He reached for it, too eagerly. He felt like a 17 year old with the adrenalin in overdrive... adrenalin or testosterone? He laughed. He should have been beyond this in his life.

"Hello"

Her voice sparkled as she talked about the sunshine and what a glorious day it was. It was cloudy outside, but sunshine poured in over two copper wires into his ears and flooded through his brain.

Hearing his voice catch, he said, "I've thought about you all day yesterday and how special yesterday was." His mind grasping the emotional landscape of the morning before with it's intimacy.

Somehow, now, he knew she had talked but he couldn't separate her words from the pounding in his ears at that moment. She talked of her excitement and he had drank in the words as a thirsty man would have water.

Somewhere he heard her ask if he was excited this morning and he heard someone with a very sexually horse voice answer with a groaning "yes."

He realized that he was erect before his brain even registered it. He was panting with excitement and could hardly ask if she was also.

Somehow the words got lost in the flood of feelings as her voice became softer, and hoarser and he knew she was being affected with the same flood of sexual feelings as he was. He knew from her voice she was breathing shallow and that a warmth was flowing downward through her and was opening her and flooding her.

She had shared her feelings before and he knew that there was a fire kindling between her legs in the deep recesses of her womanhood. She talked of her longing to be filled and his hardness.

In his mind's eye he could see her sitting at her desk with one leg tucked up under her. Quite natural to the eye, but he knew that she was sitting so that her heal was in contact with the cleft of her feminine form and that she was pleasuring herself just as his hand was giving the same kind of pleasure to his hardness.

In the moment they shared their sexual feelings and although they were separated by a thousand miles they were as intimate as any two lovers had ever been. Their voices becoming so soft that they would have been lost in the darkness of a bed on a shared pillow. Somewhere in her he heard the ragged breathy moaning of her excitement and he was awed. He knew that she was quivering, her face flushed and her body stiff with the posture that was focusing all of her attention at the juncture of her legs and the opening of her inner being. She was a woman caught in the fires of passion and he would have given anything to have seen her face and watched her eyes as they smoldered and glazed... half shutting with the heaviness of her blood flowing downward from her brain towards the juncture of her hips. Knowing that the focus of her being was becoming lost in her loins.

Her moan was a mixture of longing and anger... a hungry sound. A demand for more and a release from the tension that was building in her. He knew that like the spasm of her lower belly, there was no pretense in the sexual expression of her breath and voice and he felt reverenced at though he were standing at the alter of a sacred shrine. He was hearing what a man hears when a woman has passed beyond just the pleasure of his touch and has moved to the point that she is absorbed in the most primal feelings of sexual hunger. He has become the fuel, but she is the fire and he listened as he heard it consume her.

Her passion was contagious and his erection in his hand swelled as his own blood flowed to that point of intimate contact between them. In his mind's eye he could see the smooth softness of her lower belly split into the cleft of her womanhood. The widening chasm of her sex bridged by the protruding mountain of her excitement and the bottomless void of her entrance being strained by what felt like a monestrous erection. With each movement, he saw himself lost into her as she easily accommodated his size and with each withdrawal, he saw the flesh of her inner sleeve withdraw with him as though she wished to cling to him as long as possible.

And with her, his breathe ejaculated from his throat as he knew that she was clenching herself from the same spasm of climax. His white fluid exploded like a volcano with an eruption that burst forth and then began to run down like white lava. Again and again, it pulsed forth and ran down until his hand was covered in it.

He couldn't focus his thoughts in coherent sense. He was in a fog in which he most wanted to just hold her and be contented by her warmth and touch.

He wasn't sure just when the hung up... he knew that they were still connected. He wanted her to think of him each moment as she shifted in her chair at work and felt her heaviness even as he thought of her.

He knew he has no resistance to her... and he wanted none.



No Resistance To A Stiff Cock



She could tell by the way he looked at her and casually touched her arm that he wanted her. The flirting and close dancing had her really horny. He had already asked if she wanted to get out of there. To her that was the same as asking her if she wanted to get laid. Both of them being a little drunk she wasn't sure how far she wanted it to go. There was no denying her attraction to him. In the back of her mind she knew she wanted to have sex with him but her husband was picking her up in an hour or so.

When her cell phone rang she went to the ladies room so she could hear better. It was her husband telling her he couldn't pick her up. As a matter of fact he would be home quite late and told her not to wait up for him. The sounds of women giggling in the background told her he probably wouldn't be home at all tonight. She was used to it by now and it really didn't bother her that much.

She went back to the party, picked up a bottle of wine and said to him "let's go." He drove with one hand on the wheel and the other on her thigh. She did nothing to dissuade him from feeling her pussy through her slacks. When they got to the motel she offered him some wine. He took the bottle from her hand and put it on the table. He had only one thing on his mind and wouldn't be denied. He took her into his arms and kissed her passionately. Any hesitation she may have had faded away under his kisses. He pulled her close and when their bodies made contact they went into auto fucking motion. Their pelvises ground against each other, in search of the pleasure giving friction their aroused genitals craved.

He took her hand and placed it on the bulge in his jeans. Once she felt it she knew she was done for. She rubbed her hand over the length of the outline feeling it get harder and harder. Now she wanted it, she felt her nipples and clit react to her thoughts of having it in her mouth.

"Take it out" she said to him "I want to suck it."

"Take it out for me" he panted.

She hastily fumbled with his belt buckle and zipper, slipped her hand into his shorts and wrapped it around his hard, throbbing prick. Soon she had it out and fully erect. She dropped to her knees and, as if hypnotized by his manhood, became obsessed by her desire to pleasure it.

She knew she was an easy mark for a hard cock, with an overwhelming desire to get it in her mouth. She didn't allow herself to think about it, but way down deep she knew, that at her present state of arousal if she were surrounded by stiff cocks she couldn't stop until she sucked them all dry, one after another.

The thought almost made her cum as her concentration returned to the job at hand. She took the cap in just beyond her teeth, pushed it against the roof of her mouth with her tongue then closed her lips tight around the shaft and sucked hard.

His body stiffened and he let out a long groan as if she was torturing him. This was the part she liked best, the feeling of power and control. She knew now that there was nothing she could do to it, except biting it too hard, that he wouldn't love. She also knew that he was watching her blow him, and the hornier she got doing it the better he liked it. Lucky for the both of them she didn't have to fake it.

She was at the point where she couldn't get enough and would seriously consider a second man to help satisfy her lust. Her pussy was dripping and her nipples and clit screamed for contact. She didn't want to give in to her desires until she felt the big stiff cock, which she was sucking on, deep inside her hungry pussy.

She sucked, licked and jerked his cock in a frenzy of blind horniness. Suddenly the object of her desire was pulled from her mouth. Without speaking he got her to stand and led her to the bed. He tugged on her slacks while she unfastened them; soon they were around her ankles. He got her to lie down on the bed then slipped off her cream stained panties.

He watched her unbutton her blouse and free her tits from her bra. The look of unadulterated lust on his face, as his eyes scanned her, sent shivers of anticipation through her.

That look told her that he had reached his limit and that she was in for one hell of a fucking.

He hastily lined up his huge pecked between her pussy lips, paused for a moment, and then fucked her fast and hard. She shrieked with delight when he pierced her. The only thing that could have made it better was if she had a nice big stiff one to suck on while being drilled.

She didn't remember enjoying being fucked more, but she wasn't getting enough clitoral contact. "Let me get on top" she said. He pulled out of her and fell back. She straddled him and guided his cock into her insatiable pussy then rode it like she was riding a wild bronco.

He sucked her nipples and squeezed her ass while she fucked him. She placed her hand under his chin and removed his mouth from her tit. Then she replaced the nipple he was sucking on with her tongue. She pushed her pussy down hard and ground her clit into him setting off a monstrous orgasm.

Her thoughts returned to the big cock she was riding. "Let me know when you're going to cum" she whispered in his ear. "I want you to cum in my mouth."

What she said to him sent him over the edge. "I'm ready baby, aweeeee, I'm cuming right now" he groaned.

She quickly dismounted him and took his already discharging cock in her hand. She squeezed the shaft and quickly jammed it into her mouth, then hungrily sucked on it until his moaning ceased and his body went limp.

She cuddled up to him, resting her head on his shoulder. She knew he was done for the moment but she wanted more. While gently caressing his chest and belly she kept an eye on his cock for signs of life. She hoped that if she was patient enough she'd get to taste him once more before they leave.

She was disappointed when he kissed her and got up and went to the bathroom. That was it she thought, they'd shower, get dressed and be on their way, no more sex.

Lying there alone, listening to the sound of the shower running, she was still very horny. She imagined him thinking of her in the shower and jerking off. Her fingers found her love bud while picturing him squeezing his big, stiff cock. Oh yeah, her dirty thoughts and clit stimulation were having their affect.

She spread her legs and planted her feet then moved her hips up and down as if she was being fucked. All her senses were overwhelmed by the rush of mounting pleasure so she didn't notice that the sound of the shower had stopped.

Her orgy of self indulgence was interrupted by a single word, "wow." She opened her eyes and saw him standing there watching her. Her surprise and disappointment over being interrupted were offset when she noticed his cock. Although it wasn't rigid it was puffed up to twice its flaccid size. She knew a few sucks would have it as hard as a rock again.

She felt as though she should be embarrassed, but wasn't, just extra horny. She smiled at him and beckoned for him to join her. He knelt on the bed and put a hand on each of her knees and pushed them apart.

He admired her sopping pussy for a moment then bent down and kissed it. This was an unexpected bonus. She raised her ass from the bed to meet his mouth. His tongue washed the length of her slit from bottom to top where her throbbing clit poked out from under its hood.

His tongue and lips made exquisite love to her receptive love button culminating in another massive climax for her. Now she wanted to reward him, she wanted that cock which was pointing straight at her from between her legs.

The way she yearningly looked at it caused it to twitch in anticipation and he felt his scrotum tighten. She started to move towards it. "Wait" he said "I just want to have a few pokes, then it's all yours.

He slid his cock easily into her well lubricated pussy. He remained in the kneeling position between her thighs and slowly moved his hips back and forth as he fucked her.

While he was fucking she was thinking of how his cock will taste of pussy when she gets it in her mouth. She raked her fingernails over his chest as her lusty desire to suck his cock became more prevalent.

When he pulled it out and presented it to her it was as hard as steel and glistening with her pussy cream. "Mmmmm" she moaned as it slid into her mouth and she tasted the combination of cock and pussy. Truly content with a big stiff cock to suck on she knew, that by his hand or hers, she would cum once more before she was done.



No Rest for My Ass



This is a continuation of the "Being Brittany's Bitch" series. Your votes and constructive feedback are appreciated!

Chantz Fortune had just finished fucking my ass and blowing a load from her squirting strapon all over my face, hair and tits at the opera, and was dragging me to the car. "You're in for a long night, bitch," she snarled. "No one embarrasses me like that!" Apparently getting fucked in the ass for nearly an hour sitting on her cock, then attempting to take ten inches standing doggy style in six inch heels wasn't enough for her. 

She threw me in the backseat and tore off down the road, music blaring. I could tell she was on her cell phone, but I couldn't hear who she was talking to, or what was being said. I knew this did not bode well for me. 

A few minutes later, we pulled up to Chantz and Brittany's building, and I followed her inside. "Make yourself comfortable, slut," she said. "We're having company." I sat down on the couch, adjusted my dress as best I could, and crossed my legs. The doorbell rang, and I immediately minced over to answer it, knowing what would happen if I didn't. My heart sank in my chest as I opened the door to my sister Jenny. 

"Good evening, miss. Do come in, my mistress has been expecting you." I said in my most girlish voice. 

"I'll be right in, honey," Chantz shouted from the other room. She entered the room dressed in tight jeans and a cropped t shirt. "I'm sorry she made you wait so long. She will be punished for that." With that, Chantz threw me over her lap, rolled up my dress, and began spanking my ass. "I hope you don't mind, but this is the only way she learns," she said nonchalantly. 

"I came over to find out about my asshole brother," Jenny said. She seemed unaffected by the unusual scene being played out in front of her. "Kara mentioned that she had seen him, and that he had changed, but she didn't say much else. What's going on?" 

"Your brother ran afoul with the wrong women," said Chantz. "He's a womanizer and an asshole. My friend and I decided to teach him a lesson." With that, she flipped me over on her lap, and ordered me to raise my dress. I cast my eyes downward, not wanting to look my sister in the face, and did as I was told. "This is your brother now," Chantz stated.

It took a second to register, but then Jenny burst out laughing. "Oh, that is awesome. Brad, you are so pathetic." She leaned forward and slapped me in the face. "Let me see those," she said, as she freed my tits from my dress. "Wow, glad I don't have to carry those babies around," she laughed. "Now you know what it feels like, asshole." 

"I'm glad you are so supportive," Chantz said. "My roommate Brittany and I have already let his wife fuck him in the ass, so all the neighbors know. She's also been fucked in front of all her coworkers, fucked by some of her coworkers, and bent over the railing and railed at the opera. Can you think of any other ways to humiliate this bitch?"

"Well, this is defiantly something mom and dad should know about, don't you think?" Jenny smiled. "Do you have a webcam? You can fuck him in the ass while I degrade and abuse him, then we can e mail it to our parents." 

"That is the best idea I've heard in a long time," Chantz said. She stripped me out of the dress, leaving me naked except for the high heels. The webcam came on, and Chantz spoke. "Hello Mr. and Mrs. Smith. This is Chantz Fortune. I am a friend of Jenny and Brad," she said, as she pulled Jenny into the picture. "I know Brad has caused you much embarrassment over the years. Today, Jenny and I will hopefully correct that situation and ensure that it does not happen in the future." She then dragged me into the picture. "This is your son, Brad. We made a few improvements, both physically and behaviorally." "Suck me, bitch," she commanded. 

I dropped to my knees, and unzipped her jeans with my teeth, unleashing a large black strapon in the process. She grabbed my head and forced all ten inches into my mouth, as she continued to talk to the camera. "You'll see she's much more submissive and attentive now. She's also been trained to only cum while taking it in the ass, so you won't have to worry about her spreading her seed all over town. With that, she spun me around, pushed me down on all fours, and jammed her cock into my ass. I think Jenny was starting to get turned on, because she was soon naked on my back facing Chantz and slapping my ass. 

"Hi mom and dad. Want to see how red I can make Brad's ass?" she said, as she assaulted my cheeks, as Chantz assaulted my hole. "I know he got this a lot as a kid, but I never got to do it. This is great." I glanced back over my shoulder, and as my mistress pulled out of my ass, Jenny reached forward, took hold of the cock, and guided it back in. The two women began to kiss and caress each other, as the cock sawed in and out of me. Chantz was devouring my sister as my sister made sure my ass continued to devour mistress's cock. 

"Hey mommy, you can show this to your bridge club," Jenny panted lustily. "Brad was always an asshole to your friends. They'll love to see him put in his place." 

The fucking continued for another ten minutes, during which time Chantz had managed to flip me over and throw my legs to Jenny, who held them down near my shoulders, so that I was back in the familiar pile driver position. "You'll also notice how receptive she's becoming to new ideas," she said as she fed her cock straight into me, and my ass swallowed it up. She reached forward and pinched my nipples, as she slammed into my ass, and I came all over my own face and hair. "I told you we had her trained," she laughed. 

As if that wasn't enough, Chantz forced me back on all fours, gave my ass a few more good pokes, and then came all over my ass and back. She grabbed my hair and forced me to look into the camera, before shutting it off. 

"Come on bitch, time to let your parents in on this," she said as she dragged me to the computer. Defeated, I wiped the cum out of my eyes, sat down gingerly, and did as I was told. 

"I better be on my way," Jenny said, as she headed for the door. "Thanks for calling me. I trust she's in good hands now. She pulled out her cell phone. "Mom, it's Jenny, don't have much time, just wanted to tell you to check your e mail, bye." "Kara, hey, it's me. I'm leaving Brad's new place right now. I met Chantz, she's a doll. You fucked my brother in the ass too? Man, that's awesome. She's such a slut..." she said as she left. 

"Slut, you've had a long day, it's time for bed," Chantz said, as she dragged me upstairs. She cuffed me to the foot of the bed, on the floor. I looked up and watched as she slowly removed the t shirt and jeans, leaving her completely naked. She spun around, letting me see her full beauty. "I figured it's the least I could do you for you," she laughed, as she climbed into bed. The next morning, I awakened on my own, still covered in dry cum. Chantz came in and uncuffed me, and sent me to the showers. 

"Clean up baby, and come out, today is all about you." I hobbled to the bathroom and took a quick shower, staying in just long enough to wash off the cum, as the water stung my sore ass. "What would you enjoy doing today, slut?" she asked. 

"I love to golf, but whatever pleases you, mistress," I replied meekly. 

"Then golf it is," she replied. She pulled out a white bra and matching thong for me to put on. Next, a small white polo was tossed to me, as well as a short pleated skirt and golf shoes. I put everything on, relieved to be wearing the first pair of non high heel shoes since my ordeal began. Chantz left the room and returned wearing golf knickers, a polo shirt and a hat which covered her long hair. She was done up in such a way that she could have passed for the old me. She grabbed her phone and made a call. "Oak Hills? Hi, this is Brad Smith. I need a tee time for two. Sure, we can be there in twenty minutes. Thank you."

Shit, I thought to myself. That's my country club. She has ruined me everywhere else; I could only assume she would do it again. I just didn't know exactly how she would do it. We packed up two sets of clubs and sped off to the country club. Chantz passed as me with no problem, and drove us to the first tee. As the cart stopped, she tossed me a duffle bag. "I hate losing," she said. "This will give me a bit of an edge. Open the bag, and put everything on." I opened the bag to find six inch, black platform heels, nipple clamps, and a butt plug that locked into place. I quickly slid the nipple clamps on under my bra and shirt, and strapped the high heels into place. 

Chantz decided I wasn't fast enough, as she flipped up my skirt and fastened the plug's belt around my waist. She then stood me up, bent me over the front of the cart, and rammed the plug home, locking it into place. Lastly, she straightened my skirt and pulled me to my feet. 

"Ladies first," she laughed. I selected my club and stepped up to the tee. I attempted a few practice swings, but found it nearly impossible with my huge tits in the way. "Awww. Looks like Jessica Simpson out there. How cute." After several tries, I finally hit the ball weakly down the fairway. Chantz followed with a monster tee shot that put mine to shame. 

I finally got the ball onto the green, and she came up behind me. "Here honey, let me help you with that," she offered. She stood behind me, and put her arms over mine, helping me line up the shot. Suddenly, right as I was shooting, she jammed the shaft of her putter under my skirt, ramming the butt plug further into my ass. I yelped in pain, and the shot went wide right. I finally holed out after eight shots, and climbed back into the cart. 

"Well, I won that hole by 5 strokes, so I guess that means a five second penalty for you," she commented. I only had moment to wonder what that meant, as I soon felt a sharp buzzing in my asshole. The butt plug was a vibrator. I screamed as the sensations racked my body, but they subsided as soon as they had started. "I think it would be fun if I put the remote on the head of my driver, that way, every time I hit a drive, you'll be paying attention," she said. "I'm also sick of looking like your ugly ass. It did the job, getting us in, but I need to change. With that, she stripped off her outfit and changed into a respectable polo shirt and khaki pants. She also let down her beautiful blonde hair. 

Over the next seven holes, I was used and abused as I had come to know and dread. True to her word, every time Chantz drove the ball, I got shock in my ass, and it continued between holes for however many strokes she beat me by, or just for however long she felt like letting me have it. She gave me the putter treatment on most of my putts, and even made me play several holes topless, as I often failed to drive it to the junior tees. On a few holes, she lost her ball in the woods, and made me look for it. When I didn't find it fast enough, she took me over her knee and tanned my ass with tree branches. If her ball landed in a water hazard, she took it out on my nipples. 

"Bitch, this is the last hole. I'm going to make a hole-in-one; you better hope it's on the course. I will allow you to shoot first." My tee shot somehow landed on the green. "Nice shot, bitch. Go ahead up there and tend the pin, I'll catch up," she said. "You better by naked by the time I get up there." I minced my way up to the green, and slowly began to remove my clothes. I pulled the polo up over my large tits and threw it to the ground. Then I reached behind my back and undid the bra, letting it fall to the ground. Next, I reached back and unzipped the skirt, letting it slide down my legs. The last item to go was the thong, which left me there in the heels, locking butt plug, and nipple clamps. 

Chantz waited until I was standing naked at the pin before hitting her tee shot. I felt the usual shooting through my ass, but this time it didn't stop. I began to shout and dance around the green. At that point, I began to realize I was drawing attention to myself. (A naked "woman" in high heels, a butt plug and nipple clamps will do that I guess) 

It took me six putts to finally hole out, since Chantz was holding down the button to the vibrator the whole time. She holed out in two. "Well sissy, it looks like I beat you by twenty three strokes. I also did not get my hole-in-one." Before I knew it, I was on the ground on all fours on the green. For a fleeting moment, my ass was empty, but that was followed quickly by the sharpest pain of my life. 

"This is my eighteen inch cock," she laughed, as I screamed. Looks like I did get a hole-in-one. Good thing I reserved the tee time behind us, because we are going to be here one minute for every stroke you lost by. She picked up the thong and gagged me with it, as she reached forward and tugged at my nipple clamps. I felt her jerk my hair and I looked up and saw faces pressed up against the glass of the clubhouse bar, as she continued to ram all eighteen inches into me. 

"Hey everyone, this is Brad Smith. Remember him?" she shouted. She leaned back briefly and pulled me back by my shoulders so that we were both on our heels and my cock was in plain view. I saw the crowd close in on us, as everyone wanted a closer look. That's the last thing I remember before I passed out from the pain. The next thing I knew, I was back at Chantz and Brittany's apartment, cuffed to the headboard of the bed. I head Chantz and Brittany talking in the other room, before I passed out again. 



No Rest For The Horny



Exhausted from a hectic work week and an overly long, loud rock concert that stretched well past her bedtime, Sarah was having difficulty keeping her car on the road and she was still an hour from home. A quick stop at a gas station for an energy drink was a nice break from the monotony of driving, but a half hour later her eyelids were as heavy as the bulky black combat boots she'd worn to the show. With relief Sarah noted the "NEXT REST AREA 2 MILES" sign that promised a respite from the seemingly insurmountable task of getting home.

As Sarah exited the freeway, she slowed down, noticing that were no other cars and that the parking area was not as well lit as it might have been. She parked and took a brisk walk around the slightly wooded area that surrounded the bathrooms to get her blood pumping. As she did this, Sarah reviewed the concert in her mind. More specifically all the cute guys she'd seen. She felt her pussy tingle when she thought of how intently and frequently she'd been checked out by her fellow concert-goers. Amazing the attention a plain black t-shirt and a pair of faded cut-offs can get you, she laughed to herself, knowing full well that her long, red hair and D-cup breasts were more likely the cause of all the male attention she'd elicited this evening.

Much more awake now, Sarah realized what she needed more than a quick drive home and 12 hours of sleep was a toe-curling orgasm. Looking around to make sure the parking lot was still empty, Sarah slid back into her car and removed her black bra. Easing the driver seat back she reached under her shirt and squeezed her round breasts, nipples almost instantly raising to two hard points as her ringed fingers grazed them. Sarah removed her studded belt and opened a couple buttons on her cut-offs, making room for her right hand as it slipped past her tiny black panties and neatly trimmed bush, two fingers expertly and impatiently pushing into her already wet pussy. A third finger was soon to join as her left hand focused on her pulsing clit. A shuddering orgasm quickly overtook Sarah, her overheated pussy practically strangling the three digits that were plumbing her depths.

As her orgasm subsided, Sarah realized a couple of things simultaneously: she was now cold and far from fully satisfied. She slid her key into the ignition and turned the car back on, cranking the heat up full blast. Better, she thought, now how about another orgasm? She looked around again to make sure no other cars had pulled up while she was temporarily lost in her self-satisfaction. The lot was still ghost-town empty and now Sarah, forever craving variety in all facets of her life, was faced with the dilemma of what to put in her pussy for orgasm number two. Hair brush handle? Too narrow. Empty energy drink can? Too flimsy and a touch too wide, though she was sure she'd be able to adjust. If only I traveled with an arsenal of my favorite sex toys, Sarah giggled inwardly, imagining getting pulled over by a cop who might want to search her car or getting in a wreck and having an emergency worker shamefacedly stumble across her hidden toy stash. As her eyes scanned the car for something to fill her aching void, Sarah noticed the gearshift in neutral, its thick, round handle shaking ever so slightly from the rough idling of the engine. 

Sarah pulled her panties and cut-offs over her boots and, scrunching her body up so as not to bury her head in the roof, carefully straddled the gearshift. She placed her hands on the dashboard and slowly lowered her sopping wet pussy onto the gearshift, leg muscles straining from the inordinately awkward position into which she'd worked herself. The handle was cold but an exhilarating contrast to the heat of her insides and she began slowly bobbing up and down. With each down stroke Sarah got more of the gearshift into her pussy until the top of the handle lightly tapped her cervix, sending a shiver down her spine. As Sarah established a steady rhythm, she was able to support her upper body on her left arm and, with her now free right hand, alternate between roughly pinching her nipples and vigorously rubbing her clit. Just as Sarah was sure she would be consumed in a full body charley horse brought on by her contortionist masturbation, her pussy convulsed in an orgasm that was worlds more powerful than the first and left the gearshift coated with her copious juices.

Sated and spent, Sarah gingerly extricated herself from the gearshift and pulled her cut-offs back over her cramped, sore legs. With her panties she wiped off the gearshift and then lowered her car windows to enjoy a blast of cold night air that carried away the musky aroma of her sex and any lingering doubts that she would not able to get home in one piece. 



No Rest for the Wicked



You walk into the room, soft heavy curtains closing behind you blocking the light from the hall. It is dim, candles providing the only light, their flickering crating more shadows than they dispel. You peer round in the gloom, noticing the deep velvet drapes hiding the windows, the soft, dark carpet underfoot. As your eyes become accustomed to the near darkness, you notice other things hanging on the wall, the things that have brought you here, the chains decoratively hung alongside the riding crop and handcuffs framed by an elegant array of leather restraints.

Standing in the gloom, you feel her presence before you see her as she steps from behind one of the curtained recesses. She is dressed for the occasion, a long, black, velvet dress skimming her figure, the sleeves coming to points over her long hands, the hem just reaching the floor. She orders you to sit on the chair near the entrance to the room and you do so as she glides round, lighting more candles and oil lamps, increasing the light and letting you get a better look at her.

She seems taller than you recall and your eyes are drawn to the hem of her dress, where you see the spiked heels of her shoes as she moves, the metal tips catching the light as she illuminates her playground. She catches you looking and smiles softly, her red lips looking inviting and wet, her smile that of a predator, never really reaching her eyes that glitter with a streak that makes you half afraid, half intrigued as to where this woman will take you without even leaving the confines of the room.

When the room is illuminated to her satisfaction, you can see more of the instruments of her work hanging on the walls, or set out on tables dotted around the room like rare antiques displayed in a museum. Ropes lie coiled, looking innocent until you think on their uses, then they become like coiled snakes in your mind. The thought of the feel of the ropes against your skin fills you with trepidation as well as heightening your excitement, knowing that this is what you have come here for. You have come to submit yourself to this woman.

You have known her for quite some time, although not like this. Normally people would never have guessed at her other occupation, her business suits during the week, t-shirts and jeans at weekends belying this figure before you. You notice her nails are as red as her lipstick, long, sharp and dangerous looking. You want to feel them on your bare flesh and feel your heart speed up as the thought arouses you. She moves towards you and you notice the slit in her skirt as it exposes a long length of her slender leg, the top of her sheer stocking making a brief appearance before it is covered by the black velvet once more. She stands before you, legs slightly apart, the slight scent of her musky perfume drifting towards you. She looks you up and down as you sit on the chair like a nervous schoolboy caught doing something naughty in class and sent to the headmistress.

"Let's skip the pleasantries" she purrs at you. Her voice is different to normal, huskier, and you feel your body responding to the silky sound, chest hair prickling against your shirt as your skin puckers with the anticipation of what is to come. You feel your groin tighten as she walks round you, trailing a finger round your collar bone and across your back, inspecting you as you sit with your hands in your lap.

"Stand and strip" she orders. "Everything off. I want to see what I have to work with".

You feel your body responding to the order automatically as you stand and start undoing your shirt. She watches you for a moment before walking away from you towards one of the tables. She pauses for a moment, looking over her shoulder at you, her eyes judging you and you wonder what she is thinking. You pause in your undressing a moment too long for her and her impatience shows as she turns towards you.

"Having second thoughts, or just being lazy?" Her voice is sharper, but still has that same low tone that makes your skin prickle and your prick stir into slight wakefulness.

"No Miss" you reply, undressing a little faster. She seems satisfied with your answer and turns back to the table, selecting a coil of rope. You keep undressing, your shirt thrown over the back of the wooden chair and you bend to undo your shoes, slipping them off, stuffing your socks in them before putting them under the chair. You stand up from this to find her stood right in front of you. You start slightly at the sight of her. She has moved so silently over to you, but you feel the thick pile of the carpet under your feet that has deadened the sound of her approach. She carries a coil of rope in her hands as well as the riding crop you noticed earlier. The crop is hanging from one finger, the strap by the handle looped over it and you can see it move as she impatiently jiggles her hand waiting for you.

You stand in front of her, just your trousers and shorts saving you from total nakedness, and wonder at yourself. She looks at you then looks down at your trousers, reminding you of what you are supposed to be doing. You can feel yourself getting harder as she looks at you and you undo your trousers sliding them over your hips, taking your shorts at the same time, and letting them fall to the floor together.

"Pick them up" she orders, and you step out of them, bending to retrieve them from the floor. As you bend, you almost feel the movement as she brings the crop across your bare buttocks, gently, just a stroke, but it makes you flinch just the same, as if she had brought her full weight behind it. You pick up your discarded clothing, folding it and placing it over the back of the chair along with your shirt.

You turn back towards her, your prick fully hard as she stands there looking at your nakedness. She smiles slightly as she sees your arousal. She steps back, beckoning you to step forward. You do so, bare feet sinking into the pile of the carpet that feels wonderfully soft, the sensation heightened by the situation. You walk forward, away from the chair, five, six, seven paces, into the middle of the room until you are almost touching her body with yours, your prick barely an inch from the black velvet before she makes you stop.

She steps away from you again, walking round you, trailing the crop around your body, across your bare buttocks again, up your back, over your shoulder until she is in front of you again, the tip of the crop resting just at the base of your prick.

"I see you shaved for the occasion" she comments, looking at where the crop is resting.

"Yes Miss, just as you ordered" you respond, having spent a good 20 minutes that morning making sure every inch of your prick, balls and pubic area were smooth and hairless. She specifically told you that you should do this when you discussed the meeting the previous day. You had spoken about many things, limits, what you expected from her, what she expected of you, and now you are here in her playroom, waiting for the next order.

She flourishes her other hand and you see a glint of silver. She produces a thick ring of steel and slides it over the head of your prick. The metal is cold on your skin and the sensation of the cold metal on your hot hardness is delicious. It is tight and you wonder what she is going to do with it. Your unspoken question is answered when she drops the coil of rope and the crop and bends slightly to hold the head of your prick as she slides the ring on further, pushing it all the way down to the base. It feels tight, but not uncomfortable and the feeling of having the warming metal sliding down your shaft with her hand holding the rest of your prick as she slides it lower is a delicious sensation, heightening your arousal.

She only holds your prick long enough to get the ring in place, then releases it, stepping back to admire the ring glinting softly around the base of your erection. You look down at it as she does, marvelling that it looks so tight yet feels so comfortable round the base, your prick looking longer, and you wonder if it is because of the ring or whether it is just because there is no hair hiding the base, the ring defining the point where your prick meets the soft flesh of your belly.

You look up at her again to see that she has retrieved the coil of rope from the floor and has doubled it over, tying a knot in the folded end, leaving a small loop. She ties another knot further down the double strands of rope, about a foot from the first knot and you wonder what this is for. You don't have time to wonder too long before she slips the loop between the two knots over your head, leaving the smaller end loop behind your neck, the long, loose ends of the rope hanging down your front, brushing against your prick. She deftly ties more knots at small intervals down the rope till she has several knots, the rope bumping against your arousal as she works. The knots go down as far as your thighs and your prick is close to her face as she works on the rope. You wish she would just turn her head a little and lick you, suck you as you stand there, but she does not.

Once she has the rope tied to her satisfaction, she stands before you again and looks at you. She has said very little and you have followed her lead. She doesn't explain the rope hanging round your neck, and you are staring into her eyes as she suddenly takes a hold of your prick, one hand sliding gently up and down the shaft for a moment before you feel the rope slipping over it. She places one of the loops created by the knots over your hardness, one knot sitting just above the base, and she loops your balls through, a knot sitting a short way behind them. She slides the rest of the rope between your legs and steps behind you.

The rope is drawn up behind you and you feel a slight tug at your neck. You realise that she is passing the ends of the rope through the loop behind you and feel the rope down your chest tighten as she pulls it through as far as she can. A knot slides between your buttocks and rests, not uncomfortably between the cheeks. You wonder what is coming as you stand there, but she steps round in front of you and reaches behind you, under your arms, pulling the loose ends of the rope round to the front from either side of you, sliding the ends through between the top two knots on your chest and pulling them all the way through. You feel the rope over your neck tighten slightly and the knots between your legs shift as she pulls.

Moving round behind you again, you feel her tugging on the rope ends, but you can't see what she is doing. You just feel it getting a bit tighter and you can feel the ropes moving through each other as she works behind you. Soon she is in front of you, repeating the process one set of knots further down. As she works down, the rope between the knots opens into diamond shapes down your front, the whole thing becoming increasingly tight as she works. The rope round your genitals tightens and grips you even more as she works, the knot behind them sliding up towards the base, bunching your balls behind it, and the knot between your cheeks moving slightly with each passing of the ropes round your chest. The last pass of the ropes goes through the ropes round your prick, and you feel her hands cool against the heat of your erection as she works. You realise then that you are more aroused than you thought possible without having sex, your prick straining against the ring, the tightness of the metal and the ropes almost completely trapping the blood in your erection, making you harder.

As she pulls these ropes apart, the diamond forming round your genitalia, the knot between your cheeks moves to rest on your sphincter, sending a delicious chill up your spine. You didn't expect something like that to feel so good, and you feel slightly ashamed that the feeling of something pressing into your arse has this effect on you. You wonder for a moment if this feeling is normal for a heterosexual male with no gay tendencies and you panic slightly, your eyes raising up to meet hers. You notice the amused look in her eyes and know that she is fully aware of what you are thinking.

"You like that, do you?" she enquires with a slight smile playing on her lips. You don't answer, feeling yourself blush and she smiles more. "It's OK, it's perfectly normal to like it. It's just you guys have a tendency to avoid having your arse played with in case people think you are gay. As you can feel, it's an interesting sensation, and quite pleasurable once you get over the initial shock of finding another erogenous zone." She laughs softly, an amused laugh that has you smiling as well, your embarrassment lessened by the though of it being OK to like the knot resting where it is.

She finishes her work of tying you into what you later discover is a Japanese Rope Harness, tying the ropes off behind your back leaving a tail that hangs down behind you, brushing the back of your knees which tickles slightly. She walks towards another low table and beckons you over to her. You walk slowly over, the rope work pulling into you slightly as you move, the knot on your arse moving slightly and sending more shivers up your spine and down your prick. The table that she has beckoned you over to has more ropes on it and she selects another. She walks round you, looking at you critically, and you can see her wondering what to do with you next.

With the rope she has selected, she moves behind you, trailing her nails over your belly and catching one of your wrists in her hand as she does. She pulls the wrist behind you not unkindly, and you feel her wrap the rope round your wrist a few times before you feel it tighten slightly as she knots it. She reaches round you and grips your other wrist, pulling it beside the other, tying it in the same way, using the long end of the rope she has already bound your other wrist with. The rope isn't tight, but you know you won't be able to slip out of it and you know you are now almost completely in her power. Only your feet are free, but you have a feeling that they won't remain so for too much longer.

You can feel her behind you, still working with the rope and you feel it coiling round your arms, pulling them together. Your thoughts go back to when you first saw the ropes, imagining them as snakes, and now you feel the constrictor winding it's way up your arms, binding them behind you, pulling your shoulders back, straining your chest against the fetters she has already put in place. The feeling is an interesting combination of imprisonment combined with the erotica of being in this woman's power and you like it. You look down at your prick marvelling at how hard it is, the candlelight glinting off the jewelled drop of pre-cum resting on the tip. 

As you lose yourself in the glint of candlelight, marvelling at how aroused you are without any of the usual precursors to this level of excitement, she finishes knotting the ropes round your arm, and you are oblivious to her movement, hypnotised by the jewelled drop as it moves rhythmically on the tip of your prick, your heartbeat pumping it in gentle movement. She watches you for a moment, before bringing you back to the present with a finger under your chin raising your head to look into her eyes. Her other hand dips to the end of your prick, gently wiping the drop off the end onto her finger. She raises this finger up between you and you can see the glistening smear over her fingertip. She smiles as she raises it to her lips and you shiver involuntarily as her tongue darts out from between her white teeth and tastes the liquid on her finger. 

You are caught unawares as she moves again. "Stick your tongue out" she orders and you do so, opening your mouth and sliding your tongue out, wondering what she is going to do. She slides the finger she has just half-licked over your tongue and you taste yourself on there. A slightly sweet taste with just an edge of salt and you blush again when you realise that you like the flavour of yourself. You look up again from your blush and see her smiling, and realise that this is just like the rope pressing on your arse: another sensation that you have denied yourself in case you are seen as gay. She knows better though, and sees it as something that you have needed to try for a very long time, but have resisted. Now she has the power to make you try all these things and you both know it. The knowledge is erotic and arouses you more.

She turns away again, pulling a chair with a broad seat and tall, slim back towards you.

"Sit" she orders you again, and you do so, gently, feeling the knot in your arse pressing further into you, not uncomfortably but pleasurably. She guides your arms over the back of the chair so your back is resting on the laddered backrest, with your arms behind it. She pushes your feet apart with the toe of her shoe, another slit of stockinged leg coming into view as she does so and hiding again just as fast: a swift glimpse that you would have missed had you not been looking at her legs as she moved your feet. Your eyes skim up over the contours of the dress, skin tight against her form, outlining her, hugging every inch of her and you realise that she is not wearing a bra, her nipples erect against the fabric making two exclamation points to her own arousal at having you like this.

Before you have a chance to stare at this evidence of her own private enjoyment, she has moved away again, pulling two more ropes from the table close by. She kneels before you, almost between your feet and you once again long for her to bend, open the scarlet slash of her mouth and take your prick in whole, rubbing her tongue over it. The thought of her sucking on you makes your balls tighten slightly and you feel their movement, fettered as they are, against the wood of the seat base. Another drop of pre-cum appears on the tip of your prick and you long for her to share it with you again, but she has other things on her mind. 

She bends toward your knees, a stray lock of hair escaping from the tight chignon that she has piled her hair into for the occasion brushing against your skin. You feel her tie your ankle to the outside of the chair leg, binding it up almost to your knee before tying the end off, and then repeating the process with the other leg. You are now fully bound: arms, legs torso, prick, all tied with the same care and dedication. You are there, legs spread, displaying your arousal to her, more pre-cum slicking the tip of your hardness, sliding over the head and tickling slightly as it moves down the curve and smearing itself on your belly where your prick is resting, your heartbeat movement raising and lowering your prick from it's resting place slightly, sticky strings of your arousal joining the tip to your belly as it moves.

Standing again, she looks over her handiwork and nods almost imperceptibly. She seems satisfied with the ropes binding you, immobilising you and leaving you completely at her mercy. You watch her as she moves around, looking at you from every angle before coming to stand in front of you once more, this time with her legs slightly apart, the riding crop back in one hand, the other hand holding an odd item that you cannot identify. It is a black bar, with a very dull sheen to it, two large rings on either side, with a leather strap on either end, one with holes in, the other with a buckle on it. She takes this and rubs the black bar on the tip of your prick, and you can feel that it is rubber as she smears your pre-cum over it. The feeling of it rubbing over your prick is erotic, arousing and a small moan of pleasure escapes your lips. You move slightly against it, feeling the knot in your arse pressing and moving as you do, the rubber moving against you as you move to rub your prick on it more. She pulls it away and you keep moving for a moment, savouring the feeling of your arse being pressed against. You realise that you have closed your eyes and you open them again.




No Rest for the Wicked



Lock your door, pull the blinds, and spend five minutes getting off with me. 

I recorded this on a lazy Sunday afternoon, but I'm good to go with you any day of the week. Just press play, and let's have some fun ;)



Comments are always welcome. If you got off with me, I'd love to hear about it x

* * * * *

Click Here to listen: .mp3 format or .ogg format. (6.5 min/mp3)

* * * * *



No Rest for the Wicked Ch. 00



This is a continuation of the Council of Elders story and happens immediately after the last chapter. Don't worry – you will find out what happened to Fenris, Caesar and Owen. I've decided to go for 1st person this time because I think it's a lot better for stories with only one perspective. I think you'll find this is a lot darker than the first part of the trilogy, both in terms of the things that happen and the actual characters themselves.

***

Prologue

The quiet of the night was broken by screaming. I could hear it echoing in the darkness that led to my cell on the basement level. The stuttering of gunfire was added to the noise that slowly crept closer and closer to me. What the hell was going on out there? A riot? A breakout? Loud footfalls approached my locked door and I walked over to it. The absence of light meant that the person on the other side was practically invisible through the slot that provided my only sight into the outside of my cell.

"Inmate 626!" the familiar scratchy voice sounded breathless and shit-scared. 

626. That's my name, don't wear it out. After being shipped to this god-forsaken place, the name I used to have stopped mattering. The guards called me 626, the inmates called me 626, even the priest who came to give me my last rites called me 626.

"Why if it ain't my old friend, the Warden." I chuckled darkly, "What brings you to a condemned man's room so late in the evening?"

"Can the attitude, asshole." The light from a torch blinded me momentarily and I had to blink away the stars that filled my vision. "The whole world's gone crazy and we're getting orders from on high to prioritise evac for the most dangerous prisoners."

As the sole current resident of this particular penitentiary's death row, I guessed that had to mean I was the guy with the golden ticket out of this dump. The Warden was always the one to keep his head, no matter the situation. I wondered what exactly had Warden James in quite such a state.

"Now Warden, you know I couldn't hurt a fly. Why just last week I slit ole' 739's throat for stepping on a spider. S'bad luck, don't you know."

"Inmate 739 is still thanking his lucky stars for the continued use of his vocal chords." At this, the Warden's breath hitched in his throat. "Anyway, I've been given the joy of escorting you from the premises."

"Don't I deserve to know why I'm being rescued from my confinement? The only reason I'm still here is because of divine intervention." This wasn't quite true, but a superstitious man like Warden James would have to see the sudden and unprecedented malfunction of the lethal injection machine as an act of God.

"The hell if they'll tell me anything! Now stick your arms out of the slot so I can cuff 'em." I did as instructed. The longer I had him believing in my cooperation, the more time I had to think of an escape plan. "And no funny business, you hear?"

"Of course not, Warden. Of course not." The bolts were slid back from the heavy cell door and it swung open to reveal the stout figure of Warden James, clutching his flashlight like it was his only chance at life. He was bouncing on the balls of his feet, eager to move. "So where are we headed?"

He said nothing, just shoved me in the small of my back down the corridor, toward the illuminated emergency exit sign. I considered simply turning around and providing him with a swift kick in the balls, but then I'd never get my answers, would I?

"You know, I've always wondered what was on the floor below the basement. A car park? A burning lake of fire?" Still no reply from my responsible adult. Ah well, never mind.

We walked in silence after that, though the Warden would stiffen noticeably whenever more shots rang out in the distance. We reached the stairwell at the end of the corridor and he shone his torch downward at a door simply marked 'AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.'

He went first, either remarkably brave or stupid considering I could have pushed him down and at the very least given him a concussion. Something was very wrong with this entire situation and it had him spooked enough that he was willing to break protocol in favour of haste. Instead of acting immediately, I decided to follow him without an attempt at his life. The only way I would get out of there was with his assistance, so I might as well play along for the time being.

He jangled momentarily with his key-ring as we stood in front of the door connecting me to my freedom. After an age, he found the right one and unlocked the door. He opened the door and gestured for me to go through before him. I hesitated, but another burst of gunfire came from behind us and it was closer than ever. He pushed me roughly through the door and in the dim light of the new room I could see the terror etched on his face.

"What the fuck is going on? Why are there people shooting each other up there?" Once again, my questions fell on deaf ears. He was feverishly looking for something, his watery grey eyes darting around the room.

I took a moment to inspect my surroundings. It didn't seem to contain anything special. White walls, a low ceiling. Another door sat directly opposite to the one we came in through and I started to move toward it. It was like a vault door, heavy and probably a few feet thick, but it was our – my – only chance of getting out. I'm sure between the two of us we could-

"Don't take another step, 626." Warden James ordered. "If you want to get out of here alive then you're going to do exactly what I say." Ok. Now I was starting to get nervous. What was happening up there?

"Alright, just tell me what I can do." No sense being proud if the shit had hit the fan. Here was a man who knew how to help me and I would be damned if I let my natural affinity for sarcasm get in the way.

He gave me a genuine smile of relief, something I never thought I would see again. I tried to mimic his expression, but I hadn't smiled properly in a long time and he simply grinned at my attempt. He told me to look for something that seemed as though it didn't belong there, something out of place.

"What exactly does that mean?" A hint of frustration entering my voice.

"I'm not quite sure. I don't get told anything. Bloody politicians." He grumbled indecipherably to himself. "The instructions I got are only useful once we get through the door.

I gave the room another once-over, but nothing caught my eye until-

"There!" I shouted, pointing at a slight change in the colour of the paint on the walls. 

"What are you talking about?" He asked, completely oblivious to the subtle shift in hue. I wasn't surprised that he had missed it. I wasn't even sure why it had been so apparent to me.

He walked over to it and pressed his thumb into an unnoticeable indentation in the wall where I had pointed. There was a soft whirring and clicking behind the wall where he was standing.

A calm, female voice filled the room. "Identity confirmed. Welcome back, Warden James."

The other door swung open and Warden James raced through, dragging me behind him.

"Seal the exit!" He cried out, to no one in particular. "Security Protocol Phi-Mu-Gamma!" The door slammed shut immediately and he collapsed to the floor, sagging like all the air had left him.

"What would have happened if I had touched the door?" I asked, feeling very thankful that I had obeyed him when instructed. He didn't respond, he just unstrapped his watch and threw it at the door.

"Unidentified material detected." The female voice spoke again. "Deploying countermeasures."

Before the watch had even touched the door, it disintegrated into a pile of ashes that settled on the ground. I swallowed the bile that had collected at the back of my throat. That had been close.

"Thanks." I said, knowing that the next step I had taken towards the door would have been my last.

"You're welcome. I'm not going to let you die before the state of Colorado says you will." Ah, ever the law abiding citizen. 

"So what now?" I asked him, feeling more than a little faint.

"Now, we wait." I gave him a look that told him I wasn't satisfied with that answer. "For the cavalry to arrive."

"So what exactly are we hiding from?" He shrugged his shoulders and for some reason I believed that he was just as clueless as I was.

From what I could tell, we were in some kind of bunker. It had a much higher ceiling than the previous room and it was well lit by sconces built into the walls every few feet. There was a definite sci-fi feel to the place and I was determined to find out why it was underneath some prison in Bumfuck, Colorado.

Warden James didn't appear to be in any mood to talk. He was sat at a computer terminal and was typing agitatedly. He suddenly roared in anger and threw his hands up in the air. This gesture of rage might have been more impressive if he hadn't been half a foot shorter than me, which considering I was 5'11 on a good day made him pretty darn short.

The man was a good decade my senior, with thinning salt and pepper hair and a cleanly shaven face. I knew he had a wife, 41, and two kids, twin 12 year old boys, whom he loved dearly. He once told me that he loved his job – awful as it was – because it meant he was keeping them safe. He was so upsettingly pure of heart.

Despite the odd positions we had within the prison hierarchy, I like to think we got on well. I behaved – for the most part – and didn't give him too much angst. I felt guilty about slashing 739 the previous week because I know Warden James had been angling to get me some perks for my final days: TV privileges etc.

I definitely didn't ever threaten his family as some of the less honourable inmates were inclined to do. He was disgusted by what I had done, but then so was I to a certain extent. Well, no, I was disgusted that I had gotten caught, but that's neither here nor there.

"So if you don't know what's going on, then who told you to come and spring me?" I asked.

"I got a call about a half hour ago saying that you were to be transferred to a maximum security location and that I was to hold you in here until the transport unit arrived. They said that this was a Level Zero priority and that I should do as ordered regardless of anything else. I was halfway to your cell when the lights went out and about a minute later the shooting started."

"What were you doing on the computer?"

"Getting nowhere. I tried to get a call to head office, to ask for assistance for the guards, but the number was jammed."

There was something he wasn't saying. Something he had seen that had made him this shaken. I doubt he'd take much comfort from a condemned man, but wanted to do something. Before I could open my mouth, however, the female voice spoke again.

"Outer door breached. Error Code 52. Evacuation is recommended."

"Fuck." Warden James seemed to sum up the entire situation with that one syllable. He seemed to crumble where he stood. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. When he opened them again they were shining with unshed sadness.

"What does that mean? What's happened?" I was genuinely afraid now, something I was unaccustomed to.

He turned to me and told me to run further into the bunker until I found a hatch in the wall. I was to climb in and to lock the hatch behind me. Above my head there should be a keypad and I was to enter the first three digits of my Prisoner ID into it.

"Do NOT turn back. Ever. Keep running. I don't know why they think you're so fucking important, but you keep running." He drew his H&K 9mm from its holster and turned to face the door. "GO!"

I ran. Faster than I've ever run in my entire life, fuelled by adrenaline and fear. I kept running even when I heard six bullets fired in quick succession. I kept running even when I heard the gut-wrenching yell of pain and fury and hate. I kept running even when I heard the last, single shot that promised an end to the agony.

I ran until my lungs burned and when I finally found the hatch I felt dizzy. It swung open to meet me and I dove in. I turned and slammed it behind me, turning the handle-wheel until I heard a satisfying clunk. I looked up and saw a small LED screen with nine keys beneath it. I was just about to punch in the code that would hold the secret to saving my life, when I heard a muffled snarl. There was a small window in the hatch, like a port-hole, and through it I could make out a face.

It was Warden James. I was so relieved that I started to turn the handle back. Something made me hesitate though. There was something wrong with that face. The eyes were rolling, unfocused. The mouth was hanging down, with drool slobbering from the open maw. 

"Warden?" I whispered. "Is that you?"

The eyes stopped roaming and looked at me, alight with animal rage and... hunger? I moved my head forward so my forehead was resting on the thick glass of the porthole. Warden James' body was covered in blood and there were definite bite marks on his arms. Something told me that it wasn't him anymore. Whatever it was, it was not Warden James.

The Warden gave a sudden cry, an inhuman sound, and began banging on the door, making bloody marks on the glass. He was trying to get in. I looked up again and saw the keypad. 

6-2-6. 

That's my name, don't wear it out. 



No Rest for the Wicked



She is stood watching you, smiling again. "Open your mouth" she orders and you do, wondering what she is going to do. She places the rubber bar in your mouth, the rings resting on your cheeks, and you taste the salty-sweetness of your pre-cum on the rubber bit gag as she buckles it behind your neck. You lick at the gag, enjoying the taste again, although you preferred it on her finger.

Moving back round, she stands before you again, feet apart, hands holding both ends of the crop behind her back and you can imagine it pressing into the soft flesh of her buttocks as she stands. She moves her feet further apart and the slash in her dress falls open to the thigh, the length of her leg exposed from her high heeled shoe, right up to the lace stocking top, and you can see the suspender holding it in place against her creamy skin. She sees where you are looking and lets go of the end of the crop to pull the skirt more open, pushing the material behind her leg to expose more of her. You realise that the slit is longer than you expected as the lace of her suspender belt comes into view and you know you want to reach out and touch the creamy skin under the skimpy lace. Your arms are bound, and the slight frustration fuels your need to touch this woman teasing you with her body. 

She moves closer to you, standing with one leg between yours, the other sliding over the skin of your outer thigh, the silkiness of her stocking raising another shiver from your body. She teases you, leaning towards you, sliding her tongue out and licking your lips, exposing her cleavage to you, and even in the dimness of the room, as you look down between her breasts at the creamy skin that has been exposed to your view, you can see the slight slick of her perspiration caused by her own arousal.

You know you want this woman, this temptress who slides so close, letting you see her smooth skin, her erect nipples still pushing against the fabric of her dress as she slides herself up your leg till your prick almost touches her, then pulling herself away from you again.

The crop is discarded, as she seems to feel that it is just an encumbrance; that she is not going to need to correct you now that she has you totally at her mercy. She trails her hand over your chest, nails catching on the ropes and pulling them ever so slightly. She moves again, this time to move her other leg to outside yours and wraps one hand round the back of your neck, pulling herself onto your lap, sitting astride you still too far away for your prick to touch, but close enough to tease. She wraps a hand almost lazily round one of the knots on your chest and pulls it slightly. You feel the rope move ever so slightly, the knot on your arse sending shivers up your spine again and the one under your balls lifting them a fraction. 

She knows exactly what you want, but she is also going to take her time giving it to you. You know that she is going to tease and the knowledge makes your breath catch as she reaches towards your prick, trailing one scarlet nail all the way from the base to the tip, catching another jewel and raising it to her mouth to delicately lick it off again. Your eyes follow every move she makes and your breath catches as she seductively licks her finger, wrapping her scarlet lips round it and sucking it the way you wish she would suck your hard prick. You gasp slightly and your eyes close as her other hand, unnoticed till this point, wraps itself around your prick and starts sliding slowly up and down, a gentle touch that you move against, willing her to tighten her hand, to stroke you harder and fuck you with her fingers. She doesn't tighten her hand and the frustration just makes the sensations more erotic.

You almost cry out in frustration when she stops stroking you and you open your eyes to see her moving her hands to the almost invisible buttons that run diagonally down from her cleavage to the slit in the thigh of her dress. She unbuttons the dress slowly, exposing inch by inch of her skin to your gaze, the material still covering her breasts but exposing her stomach and once again you want to touch her, to run your hands over that exposed flesh and push the rest of the material off. She is agonisingly slow unbuttoning, but eventually she gets to the last fastening and the weight of the material pulls the dress to one side enough to expose her breast with the hard nipple in the centre to you. Still moving slowly, she pulls the other half of the dress over, exposing her other breast and your gaze travels over this, down her body to the suspender belt and small scrap of lace covering the part between her legs that you ache to explore.

She sits there on your lap, astride you, her thighs resting on yours, their heat matched by yours and she moves ever so slightly forward so your prick is barely an inch from that small scrap of lace. She reaches down again to stroke you, sliding her hand over you, thumb smearing the pre-cum over the tip and pulling you slightly towards her so the shiny head of your swollen desire brushes against the lace. It feels slightly rough against your slicked hardness, contrasting with the smoothness of her fingers on you, but you revel in the sensation of being that close to her. She leans into you, her breasts brushing against your roped chest, and you feel her hard nipples as they brush so close to your own, her hand releasing your prick to come up behind your neck. She pulls herself onto you, the scrap of lace all that is keeping you from having your prick resting on her wetness, and you know she is wet: the lace between her legs is warmly moist against your erection as she grinds onto you, leaning to kiss your lips round your gag, licking you and you move your prick against the small hard button of her clitoris that you can feel pressed into you. 

A small moan escapes you once more as you feel her weight shift off you, he kisses and licks continuing, but moving to trail down your neck, chest and lower. You watch as she kneels between the legs of the chair, her hands still on your chest, sliding lower to grasp your erection. You watch as she pulls your hardness towards her, the slick wetness of the head moving inexorably towards the red slash of her mouth as her lips part. She pauses and you groan again in frustration as you feel her breath on the tip, her mouth millimetres from you, and you want to be in her mouth, her hot tongue all over you.

Her tongue slides out with almost dreamlike slowness to brush almost imperceptibly over the tip, the slight contact sending shivers of electricity all the way up your prick to your balls. Almost as soon as this first shock has passed, another sends it's waves of erotic sensation up your shaft as her lips part and she slides that scarlet mouth over the tip, tongue working to lick all the pre-cum from you. She sucks in more, sliding her mouth up and down you, tongue working over you, teeth just sliding over and giving a counterpoint to the sensation. She works lower still, taking more and more of you in as you throw your head back and revel in the feeling of her sucking you, her hand stroking your balls as she does so. You know that you will come soon if she doesn't stop, and she knows it too as she slides her mouth off you.

She stands again, leaning in to you to release the gag from your mouth before kissing you deeply, her tongue invading your mouth as her breasts brush against your chest. You can taste yourself on her and you want her more.

Straightening herself once more, she stands before you and shrugs out of the shoulders of the dress, peeling the tight-fitting sleeves off and letting the whole thing drop to the floor. She is now before you, her skin shining with a soft sheen in the candlelight, her nipples erect and hard, just the lace of her suspender belt and small panties covering the lower part of her torso, her stockings and shoes still in place, all highly erotic in their presence.

"Do you want me?" she asks, her voice husky with desire.

"Yes" you manage to reply.

"Then you shall have me, because you have been good" she replies. Her hands go to her hips, catching the sides of her lacy panties and pushing them downwards. They resist slightly, peeling from her wetness then falling to the floor where she steps out of them, stepping towards you again. You want to reach out, touch her, bury your fingers in her wetness, rub her hard clit with your thumb, make her moan with pleasure, but you can do none of these things. 

She slides herself back onto your lap, but only moves herself close enough that you can feel the warmth of her wetness, but not close enough for you to touch yet. You strain against your fetters, willing your prick to move that extra inch towards her, to touch her, to smear her wetness with the slickness of your hardness. She slides her hand down between your bodies, wrapping her fingers round your hard prick again, gripping you firmer than before and sliding her hand up and down the shaft again. Her other hand trails down your chest once more, down to where her thigh rests on yours, following the line of her own thigh up to the soft rosebud of her sex. 

Her fingers open the petals, dipping in and coming back out again, slicked with her own arousal. She raises the finger to your lips and you suck it in greedily, a starving man offered the gift he so desperately has longed for. The taste of her is sweet, a slight dry muskiness to the back of the sweetness giving a very erotic flavour, one that you long for more of. She sees that want in your eyes and trails her finger from your lips, back down your chest and back into the folds of herself, brushing against her clit as she enters, and eliciting a small sigh of pleasure from her.

You want to be the one dipping your finger in her, throwing her on the floor and burying your face between her thighs, but your restraints prevent you from this action. She sees your frustration and smiles again, her hand stroking you pausing as she moves slightly to give you a better view of her finger sliding in and out of herself, going deeper with every stroke. You want to replace that finger with one of your own, your tongue, your prick, anything, but she is teasing you, knowing what you want, but not willing to give it to you just yet. She pleasures herself and you can see from her face she is enjoying you watching as she plays with herself. You watch her and move against her hand wrapped round your prick, moving the knot against your arse as you do, the triple pleasure just heightening your arousal. You want to fuck this woman, but you can see that she will not let you, not yet.

She brings her hand out from between her legs again, and you dip your head greedily as she brings her wet finger up to your mouth once more. She moves towards you again, sliding up your thighs and flattening the hand round your prick to push it against her mound, kissing you with her finger still in your mouth, sharing the taste of her with you as you both lick at her juices.

Frustration fills you again as you feel her moving again, her mound moving away from your prick, her hand curling round your prick once more, as she removes her finger from your mouths. She moves her hand round to hold the back of the chair behind your neck and you feel her moving upwards, towards you, then down again.

Your prick barely touches her wetness and another shock like electricity courses through you as she lowers herself a little, just brushing the head of your hardness against her, teasing you, knowing what you want, mixing your pre-cum with her own slick juices.

She moves with agonising slowness, lowering herself, taking you into her inch by inch, moving her hips slightly to slide off you fractionally before lowering herself more, taking you into her, sliding lower and lower, taking her time, revelling in the feel of you inside her. She seems to go on forever, and you marvel at your own length as you slide into her, pushing against your bonds as much as you can in an effort to get the whole of your hardness inside her. You feel her body meet yours, groins pressed together in a parody of the kiss you are sharing, your tongue deep in her mouth mirroring the hard prick she has swallowed whole into her.

Her hips move against you, pushing you in further than you thought possible, rocking back again to release you slightly before pushing you back inside her. Both her hands are behind your neck now, pulling you into a frantic kiss as she pleasures herself on you, her movements calculated to fill herself with you, to rub your groin against her clit and the head of your prick against the button of her cervix deep within her, sending waves of pleasure through her. You feel her muscles tighten round you, and she breaks the kiss as she orgasms, waves of her pleasure rippling up and down your prick, her wetness increasing, lubricating the way for you more to push into her.

Gradually her orgasm subsides and she bends to kiss you once more, her hunger only heightened by this appetiser for more pleasure. You want to be able to throw her on the floor and bury your tongue in her still, wanting to taste her orgasm, and the frustration of not being able to do this makes you struggle against your bonds, pushing yourself into her deeper, exciting you more by the denial of this freedom.

She moves on you again, her movements calculated to get you deep, then pull you almost all the way out again, sliding back onto you slowly again, fucking the whole length of your hardness in exquisite slow motion. You feel your balls tighten again as your desire rises, and you know you want to come deep inside her. She feels it too and moves faster, sliding less of you out each time before plunging you back deep inside her core to flick off the button inside her. She feels you getting close as her own orgasm rises in response to your heightened arousal. She feels you growing ever harder and bigger inside her as you prepare to release your orgasm into her.

You thrown your head back as her muscles tighten in her orgasm, hers triggering yours and you feel yourself with one final thrust from her, unloading your passion deep within her. She feels it and pushes onto you, the waves of her orgasm pulling the last of your ecstasy from you.

Your body goes limp in its bonds, and she collapses onto you, sharing one tender kiss with you before moving off your lap. She slowly unties your bonds, releasing you from your rope prison, and you sit, spent while she tends to the bonds. Finally you are released, all the ropes lying in an untidy heap by the chair, rope marks turning your chest into a pattern of diamonds. She sits back on your lap and traces the marks with a lazy finger.

"You know" she says with a lazy smile, "I don't do that for all my clients."

"I should hope not" you reply, with a grin as you wrap your arms round her, touching that creamy skin as you have longed to do all night.

"I made a special exception for you though, and you should have tried this a long time ago." She laughs slightly, and touches the wedding band on your finger, mirroring the one on her own. "I have a rule never to have sex with my clients, not even the online ones and it usually just involves tying them up and getting all Domme on them, but you're a special case, and you really should have tried this sooner."

She laughs as she gets up from your lap and you vow to do this more often with your very dominant wife, although right now, you know you just want to take her to bed and show her again what you can do without the ropes holding you back. There really is no rest for the wicked.