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After the Ball

By: Moondrift



Jodi came into the lounge, took off her wrap and flinging it onto a chair pirouetted round the room singing a song she remembered her grandmother singing:

"After the ball is over, after the break of morn/After the dancers' leaving, after the stars are gone/Many a heart is aching, if you could read them all/Many the hopes that have vanished after the ball." She heard Roland come in from putting the car away and suddenly self-conscious she stopped her gyrations and singing. He entered the room taking off his jacket and dropped it onto Jodi's wrap, his tie quickly followed.

"Phew, I hate formal dress," he complained.

"But darling, you looked so handsome in it, and it's been such a lovely evening."

"Mmm, perhaps we could do it again some time," he said, trying to sound offhand.

"Oh come on Roland, you only took me because that girl got a virus, so why would you..."

Roland grinned and teasingly said, "Aha, but you didn't hear what the other guys said about you."

Jodi had heard some of it, and that was part of the reason why she had been so animated when she'd entered the lounge, but she wasn't about to admit she'd overheard, and anyway she wanted to hear it again. 

"What did they say, darling?" she asked coaxingly.

"Well, they wanted to know where I'd found you and they said I was a lucky sod. You could see how they felt; look at how many of them wanted to dance with you, and my God, the CEO."

Jodi extended her arms to Roland and took his hands in hers. 

"They didn't get much chance, did they; I danced with you most of the time."

"They thought you were my girl friend and..."

Jodi laughed and said, "You mean some old woman you just happened to pick up on the way there."

"No truly, they thought you were my girl."

"Well that's lovely darling, and it's just as well we didn't disabuse them."

"You looked terrific; I was so pleased to be seen with you. I hope all those guys go to bed green with envy. You know, I felt jealous when you danced with them."

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

It had certainly been a night to remember for Jodi. Pure chance had led to Roland inviting her to his company's annual ball for its employees, the chance being the girl who was to go with him being struck down by a dreaded virus.

At first Jodi had demurred, telling him it was years since she had been to a dance and probably forgotten how to do it; and anyway why would he want to take his mother. 

Roland had countered by saying that dancing was like learning to ride a bicycle; once you'd mastered it you never forgot how to do it.

In a rather unflattering manner he said that he couldn't think of any girl he was able to invite at short notice, and if he had to go alone he wouldn't go at all. 

Despite his somewhat uncomplimentary way of putting it Jodi had protested he must go, since it was during the ball he was due to receive his certificate, and rather than him not go she would accompany him. 

She had prepared herself very carefully, and when Roland saw her she knew he was impressed even before he said, "Mother, you look...look absolutely stunning."

She knew she did, but said, "Ah, surprised are you?"

"Well, yes, I didn't..."

Jodi smiled and said, "That's because you never normally look at me properly. I'm here to cook your meals, clean up after you, try and make peace between you and your father and...Oh, I'm just someone who happens to be around, aren't I?"

"Come on mum, you know it's not like that."

"Yes I know, I'm just joking. So you might be pleased to be seen with me?"

"I...I...er...yes, you look very...er....very..."

"Sexy? I know I've made sure of that. Now come on, take poor old Cinders to the ball. Who knows, I might lose a glass slipper at midnight and the a handsome prince will come looking for me."

She certainly did look sexy. She had brushed her long auburn hair until it shone. She had even rushed out and bought a dress for the occasion, a brocaded fabric consisting of silk interwoven with metallic threads that rivaled the shine of her hair. It was, she thought, not really sexy; no breasts popping out of it, and no revealing of thighs, but somehow it looked sexier than something designed to look sexy. "Understated" she told herself.

It had cost her a fortune but she was determined to look her best for Roland and the occasion.

"Understated" is perhaps a word that well describes Jodi. Her face was in the classical mould; her nose was a little longer than was currently fashionable and her mouth not as wide, but her lips were deliciously full, with her lower lip projecting ever so slightly out from her upper lip. On the night of the ball that lower lip, after the judicious application of some lipstick, looked moist and shiny. 

Her golden/brown long lidded eyes, which she had always thought one of her best features, needed no makeup. 

Her figure, of which she was justly proud, was slender but swelled out in all the places the female figure is supposed to swell out. Her breasts, although concealed, were moulded by the dress that seemed to raise them into delightful mounds. Her bras, had they been visible, were less modest than the dress, being of flimsy lace. These allowed her nipples to be seen, albeit only under the cloth of the dress, sweetly adorning the aforementioned mounds. 

Before presenting herself to Roland she surveyed herself in the long mirror, and felt satisfied. "Yes, I do look good," she decided. 

When Roland saw her she was left in no doubt that she really did look good.

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

Jodi's story up to the night of the ball is not an unfamiliar one; there are plenty of women who could identify with it, in general if not in detail.

Smitten by her handsome English teacher at high school, and finding that he was equally besotted with her, she was frequently asked to stay after school "Just to go over your essay with you; I'll drive you home when we've finished."

The upshot was that on one of those drives home the teacher, Randall, took an extended detour, pulling up at a secluded spot. Jodi was so enamored of him it took little persuasion to inveigle her into the back seat of the car. There Randall rather painfully deflowered her. 

After that there were many drives home and covert meetings. Jodi became pregnant and they married.

Randall had a narrow escape. He was eight years older than Jodi and she was under the age of consent. Had Jodi's parents decided to make a fuss Randall would have at least been dismissed the teaching profession and would most likely have ended up in jail.


Her parents, rather than expose their daughter to the sort of publicity that might be involved if they revealed what had happened, agreed to the marriage. Whether this was the best thing for Jodi is arguable, but the first two years of their marriage, especially after the birth of Roland, had been passionate.

It is a moot point whether a woman who has a passionate nature is blessed or cursed. No doubt much depends on her partner. If the partner's libido matches hers, then all may be well. At first Randall and Jodi seemed well matched in this respect. 

It was during the third year of their marriage that things started to become shaky. For reasons Jodi could not understand Randall seemed to lose sexual interest in her. She was still very young and Randall had been the only man in her life, sexually speaking. 

Therefore youth and limited sexual experience left her rather naïve and certainly baffled by this fall off in their sex life; from almost every night their love making fell away to eventually arrive at close to nil.

When she could bring herself to tackle Randall about it he either eluded her questions or made comments like, "It happens in every marriage, you can't go on fucking every night indefinitely."

There was an aspect of Jodi's character that worked to her disadvantage in this situation. Some women might have sought gratification elsewhere, but not Jodi. She was an "all or nothing girl," and from the start it had been "all" with Randall.

That it had not been "all" on Randall's part was something she did not consider until long after there sex lives went into decline. Another thing that in her naivety she did not consider was that Randall was still a teacher, and there were other attractive girls in his classes. Jodi also failed to understand the possible implications of Randall's desire to have a vasectomy soon after Roland's birth.

As is often the case, especially with mothers and sons, there was a strong bond between Jodi and Roland. Perhaps this was a way of siphoning off some of her sexual frustrations, and certainly Roland as a child responded to her love for him.

When Roland reached the age of five he started to attend school, so on top of Randall's increasing neglectfulness, Jodi found she had time on her hands – time to mull over her discontent.

Feeling she had to do something with her life she decided she would try to enter the workforce. Here she found herself to be at a considerable disadvantage. Because of her early marriage she had failed to finish high school, and having had no work experience, employers were reluctant to take her on.

To overcome this problem Jodi attended a college that specialized in training girls for reception work. Completing the course, and armed with a certificate, Jodi launched herself once more into seeking employment.

In this search she found herself with a distinct asset; she not only had the certificate, but she had that which had attracted Randall in the first place, undoubted good looks.

She quickly discovered that employers wanted to have decorative girls or women at their reception desk. Perhaps they felt that at the reception desk, usually being the first point of contact for clients, the attractive young lady might give a suitable ambiance to the organization.

Of course, government legislation forbade discrimination on grounds of gender, age, appearance and sexual orientation, but this was easily got around.

After a couple of interviews Jodi got a job as a dentist's receptionist. There her looks no doubt helped the patients, especially the male patients, to be distracted from what in their imaginations might follow when they entered the surgery. 

She noticed that the men in the waiting room tended to gaze at her, rather than read the generally awful magazines provided. 

Some of the stares were frankly lustful. Others were more wistful, and if Jodi happened to catch a yearning eye, they looked quickly away, only to return to gazing at her when they thought she wasn't looking.

Soon after she started work there arose a problem, that problem being he dentist. A handsome man in his early fifties he started to regale Jodi with his marital troubles. Nothing specific was ever said, but the drift of the talk became obvious, usually along the lines, "I'm going away this weekend and my wife won't come with me; I wish I had someone to take with me."

Given her impoverished sexual life Jodi might not have objected to a bedtime weekend with her employer, but a number of factors came into play.

First she recognized the dangers of philandering with one's employer. Second, she had met the dentist's wife when she came in for treatment; a formidable lady who, from what Jodi could gather, held the strings of a well filled purse, the contents of which were mainly hers. Third, there was that all or nothing aspect of Jodi's character. 

The dentist would have liked to have had weekends away with Jodi, and perhaps when business was slack and his penis hard, a quick hump on the chair in his surgery, but that was all. 

Jodi was aware of her all or nothing character, and had resolved that eventually she would strive to overcome it. She might leave Randall, set up in a place of her own, and take a lover, or even several lovers. She had heard that there were young men at the height of their potency seeking the company of older women; this was an exciting prospect.

"Eventually," however, involved Roland. It would be after he had completed his electrician's apprenticeship and was able to stand on his own. That moment had arrived on the night of the ball.

As part of the evening events there was the presentation of certificates to those who had completed their apprenticeships. For Roland, and for Jodi, this was a special occasion because Roland had come out as Apprentice of the Year. He received not only his certificate, but along with it a gold watch and the plaudits of the management.

Jodi knew that the time was near for to make her choice; to stay with her less than satisfying spouse, or, leave and carve out a new life for herself. She was thirty nine at this turning point, and she knew she had to choose soon.

The apprenticeship! This had for once stirred up in Randall some interest in his son. 

"An electrician...a bloody electrician; you've topped the final year of high school and you want to be an electrician, over my dead body."

Jodi thought that this could be arranged if necessary, but it didn't come to that. Randall, having done his foaming at the mouth act, soon lost interest and refocused his attention of more engaging matters to do with school and teaching – or so we might assume.

Roland, in taking out an apprenticeship, was in fact behaving shrewdly. For many years the universities had been pumping out lawyers, doctors, accountants and managers. Young people had felt this was the way to wealth and status. Roland saw it otherwise.

For many years, decades in fact, a neglectful government had ignored the training of skilled trade people. 

What some had seen coming for a long time fell upon others – apparently including the politicians – like a bolt from the blue; the country was starved of plumbers, electricians, carpenters, fitters and turners and a whole host of other trade people. 

Panic arose, and these trade people could virtually name their own price; hence Roland's choice of an apprenticeship.

******************** For all their closeness during Roland's childhood Jodi noticed that during his teen years Roland seemed to grow away from her. She accepted this, however regretfully, as being in the nature of things. Children grew up, left home, and if all was well established a new type of relationship with their parents. 

She got some pleasure seeing him at first spurt upward to become a lanky gangling figure, and then begin to fill out and show all the signs of both physical and intellectual maturity.

There was one aspect of his maturity that gave her some misgivings. Learning from her own experience she made sure that Roland understood the methods of contraception that were available, and that he understood the possible consequences of not using one or other of what was available. 

Things had changed significantly since that night in the back of the car with Randall. Mother's were getting their girls on the contraceptive pill, "Just in case." "Just in case" had most commonly become, "Most certainly."

Roland was a nice looking young man and he had no difficulty finding girls to copulate with him, but like many mother's Jodi felt a twinge of jealousy when she knew Roland was enjoying the body of this or that girl. This jealousy was no doubt exacerbated by her feelings of sexual deprivation.

Given Roland's ability to attract girls it had surprised Jodi that when the girl he had been intending to take to the ball was unable to go with him, he had resorted to her, even if he done so in a slightly unflattering way. His way of asking her she put down to the generally casual manner in which he had related to her as his teen years advanced. That he said he couldn't think of another girl to ask surprised her even more..

She wondered if he had really wanted to take her all along. His father took no interest so perhaps it was because he wanted her to be there when he received his certificate and gold watch. Whatever the case, and no matter how the invitation had been expressed, she was glad she had gone.

She had been delighted and embarrassed when the company CEO had opened the ball by taking her onto the floor, leaving a spouse fuming on the sidelines. She had danced with a few other younger men and this had been exciting. She even considered them as possible candidates for her bed if and when she left Randall. 

Most of the evening though she had danced with Roland; he held her very close and much to her surprise this had sent thrilling little shivers down her spine that seemed to end up in her clitoris, giving it a strange ticking sensation. She in her turn had held him even closer.

He had been right, dancing, like learning to ride a bicycle, once learned, is never forgotten.

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

Now it was over, and after the ball were there hearts aching? As they stood holding hands and looking at each other, hers was aching. 

In the instant way it sometimes happens the past years rolled out before her. The back of Randall's car, her marriage, Roland's birth, his childhood and the affection they had shared, then the fall off in her love life with Randall and Roland moving away from her in his teen years.

It was one of those pivotal moments in life. She felt she was at the parting of the ways. Soon, she believed, Roland would leave home and of course her. Could the past have been different? She felt the tears prickling at the back of her eyes, but she fought them off; there must be no tears tonight, not after the ball. And there was the future... 

Roland had said, "Perhaps we could do it again some time." 

What did he mean by that? The company ball again next year, or something more, and did he really mean it anyway?

As she looked at him she wondered what he was thinking.

"What happens after the ball?" she murmured.

Jodi hardly knew she had spoken the words out loud.

"What?" asked Roland.

"Oh, just some words of an old song darling. 'After The Ball Is Over,' my grandmother used to sing it; it's about what happens after a ball."

"Oh."

"If it hadn't been me, but that girl what would have happened after the ball?"

"But it was you."

"Yes, but imagine, if you'd taken that girl, what would you have done?"

"I would have..."

"Don't tell me you'd have said goodnight to her on the doorstep and come home, because I won't believe you."

"No...no, I suppose I'd have kissed her goodnight."

"Only kissed?"

"Well it would have depended."

"On what?"

"How she...er...how she responded to the kiss."

"The people at the ball thought I was your girlfriend."

"Yes."

"Well kiss me goodnight then."

"Mother, I..."

"It's been 'Jodi' all evening, so why mother now?"

"Jodi, please, you don't understand."

"I only asked you to kiss me goodnight."

"I...I can't..."

"Oh for heavens sake I only asked for a kiss, and don't worry, I won't poison you."

Jodi drew close to him, there bodies touching as they had during the dance. She stretched up and pressed her lips softly to his. The kiss lingered for a few moments and Jodi flicked the tip of her tongue over his lips. 

"There, that wasn't so bad, was it?"

"Mother, please, I...you're making me..."

Jodi kissed him again. The ticking sensation in her clitoris that had been mildly present for most of the evening grew more insistent. She was trembling but not with cold for she felt hot. Her heart seemed to be racing and opened mouthed she kissed him again and thrust with her tongue into his.

She felt him tensing and there was a pressure against her lower abdomen and she needed no telling what it was. 

Wickedly she knew what she was doping to Roland and herself, and suddenly Roland exploded into action. She felt his hands reach behind her and start to fumble with the zip of her dress. Then the zip was down; Roland drew the dress from her shoulders and it slithered down her body to lie at her feet.


After the Ball



Author's note: This is a sequel to my Halloween contest entry story "Laine Goes to the Ball." While it is not necessary to read that story to read this one, it may increase your enjoyment of this story to read the earlier introduction to Laine and Xanna. Thank you to everyone that enjoyed the original and encouraged me to write the follow-up. I hope everyone likes this one as well.



Laine squirmed in her car seat. The fresh piercing on her clitoral hood still burned. It had been a pain more excruciating than anything she had ever felt. Mistress Xanna had held her as the endorphins had taken possession of her body and mind; the small silver ring she now wore signifying Xanna's possession. She had sat quietly glorying in the sensations back in the aftercare room where she had dedicated herself to her Mistress a short time before. Xanna concluded her business with the organizers of the Ball as it ended. Eventually Laine had recovered sufficiently to drive and she was now following Xanna to her home. She had agreed to spend the rest of the weekend in training and she both thrilled and feared at what that entailed.

With every movement the piercing brushed against her swollen clitoris and sent a shiver of stimulation through her body. She was more than a little scared about what she had gotten herself into, but her body's craving for the dark calm that Xanna could give her outweighed any trepidations. If anything the fear added a delicious tingle to her hunger.

Xanna pulled off the road and up a driveway to a stately old farmhouse. Laine turned to follow, noting the anonymity of the location. It was set back from the road with no close neighbors. No one would be able to hear them... which was probably a good thing. 

Laine parked the car and stepped out. She unlocked the backdoor and grabbed her bag. What luck she had brought a change of clothes with her which allowed her to change out of that silly pirate costume, she thought irrelevantly. Her mind was jumping at tangents to avoid the obvious. She followed Xanna into a charmingly decorated wood-paneled living room. 

"Please sit my dear. You're a ball of nerves. I'm going to make you a cup of tea to help you relax." Xanna motioned to the blue and cream sofa in the middle of the room. Laine sat down, looking around with curiosity. The room wasn't at all what she had expected, but then what had she been expecting; leather and iron and exotic artwork? It was decorated in rather understated and simple good taste. The raciest thing in sight was a print of Picasso's "Blue Nude" which blended perfectly with the subtle decor.

Xanna went into the kitchen and put on the kettle. She glanced into the living room and saw Laine looking around. She could tell what Laine was thinking and grinned. Laine would be even more surprised by the room Mistress intended to have them wind up in that night. 

Xanna quietly slipped downstairs to the basement to grab a few items she needed; a wicked grin on her face as she chose exactly which instruments to use. She clipped her choices to her belt and headed back to the kitchen. She came back upstairs to the kettle whistling and dropped a handful of medicinal herbs in to brew. While the tea steeped she stepped down the hall into another room. She lit a fire in the fireplace and checked to make sure everything was ready in the bed before heading back. Laine's tea was finished. Xanna poured a cup and joined Laine back in the living room. 

"Thank you Mistress," Laine said, accepting the cup and sipping the earthy mixture. 

Xanna put her hand on Laine's shoulder and she calmed at the touch. She took another sip of the warming tea. 

"I want you to get comfortable my dear. I want to get to know my pet," Xanna whispered. Her hands massaged Laine's tense shoulders. "I want you to open up and accept love and pleasure in all of its forms, that's how to find true happiness."

Laine melted at her Mistress' electric touch. She felt Xanna remove the sweater she had put on in place of the pirate bodice she had worn earlier in the night. Her fingers played around the straps of Laine's bra. Laine shuddered, gulped at her tea and leaned back into Xanna's soft and willing arms. 

Xanna's nimble fingers removed Laine's bra and began playing with the rosy buds underneath. "Mmmm...I thought about piercing these as well, but I figured I would space out my fun and do it another time," Xanna purred as Laine's nipples hardened to her touch. She took one tender tip between two fingers and squeezed. Laine stiffened at the sudden pain, stifling a small gasp. Then the glorious sensation of slipping into a sea of black velvet returned. She relaxed more deeply than ever before.

Xanna teased then twisted the other nipple. Again the shock caused Laine to tense then fall further into the darkness calling from inside her soul. "Ah, you like that, don't you pet?" chuckled Xanna.

Laine blushed and nodded, looking away in shame.

Xanna's hand tightened around Laine's breast and the other grabbed her chin and forced Laine to look her in the eye. "I don't want any shame or embarrassment. If you like something you respond, 'Yes Mistress.' Do you understand?"

"Yes Mistress." 

"Yes Mistress, what?" 

"Yes Mistress, I understand. I will answer you directly in the future." Laine croaked as she tried to catch her breath.

"Good girl," Xanna cooed and Laine felt giddily happy at the words.

One of Xanna's hands went down to her belt and brought up a short chain with small rubber covered clamps on each end. She continued to stroke Laine's breasts with her other hand as she placed the clamps on each nipple. Laine's whole body jerked in Xanna's lap; the pain ripping through her until she felt like she was shattering from the inside. At the apex, when she felt as if she were going to break apart, a wave of euphoria washed through her being. Laine's eyes filled with sharp tears that released with the flood of relief. 

The room grew less distinct around Laine. The only things that seemed real were the couch underneath her, the searing pain focused on her chest and Xanna's arms holding her close. Xanna's fingers continued to play with the chain connecting the two clamps, causing Laine to repeatedly gasp and shudder. Her hand dropped lower and pulled off Laine's jeans. Xanna pushed back the lace panties and touched the piercing on Laine's hood. Laine's clitoris was swollen and throbbing from the continuing stimulation and at Xanna's touch she couldn't stop the orgasm that had been building. She cried out and her juices sprayed over Xanna's wrist.

Xanna lifted her hand to Laine's face, stern fire in her eyes. "Normally, I would punish a pet for cumming without permission. But I suspect you have had too few to really control yourself so I will be lenient. Clean up your mess." She pushed her damp hand to Laine's lips. 

Laine licked her fluids from Xanna's fingers as the other hand went back to her massaging her mound around the still fresh piercing. They slipped around to her pink pussy lips. "I suspect I am the first woman to ever touch you." Laine nodded in response, her mouth still busy at its assigned task. "How many men have you been with? Xanna asked

Laine finished swallowing the last drop from off of Xanna's nails. "Three Mistress," she responded, trying not to blush again.

Xanna gave her encouraging smile. "Three. Go on. What did you do with them?"

Laine bit her lip and stumbled, "My first was my high school sweetheart. It was your typical prom night story; fumbling around in the backseat of a car looking over a quarry. It lasted about 30 seconds. We broke up about a month later. My friends are still pissed at me about it, but he broke up with me because I wanted to go to college instead of staying home while he worked at the rail yards. The second guy I met my second semester at State... he had some idea what to do. Or at least he did compared to my first boyfriend. Unfortunately it turned out the reason he was any good was he was practicing on more than one girl and we didn't last. The third..."Laine trailed off, not able to prevent blushing again. "The third, poor thing was my study partner in Contract Law. We fooled around a couple of times after finishing our work up and one day we went all the way. I'm pretty sure...I'm pretty sure it was his first time. He was so embarrassed afterwards he could never look me in the eye after that. And I was so embarrassed by him being embarrassed I just...kind of shut down. That happened last year. "

"My friends didn't exactly help either," Laine continued. "Two of them married right out of high school and the others are all engaged or dating the same guys they have since Junior year. We're from a small town where everyone settles down early with someone they have known forever. Only one of them other than me even went to college. They don't understand what it's like to try to date around a job and school and as for sex...forget about it. We might as well all be celibate for how much we talk. Maybe we all are for all I know."

Xanna's arm tightened around Laine and she nuzzled her neck. "My poor girl. You shouldn't feel ashamed. So what if your experience is...minimal. There is no shame in that. It means I get the joy of introducing you to more things myself."

Xanna's hand travelled again down Laine's back. She tugged at the waistband of Laine's panties and pulled them off. Laine shivered as her naked skin was exposed. "In the future, when you cross the threshold into the house I want you out of your clothes. A pet should appear naked before her Mistress. Do you understand?"

"Yes Mistress, "Laine said.

Xanna's left hand began playing with Laine's piercing again. The right went down her back, a finger gently stroking the welts she had created earlier. Xanna parted Laine's cheeks and ran a fingertip to the tiny puckered hole of her ass. Laine froze in shock. She had never had anyone touch that area before and the cold terror of the unexpected act was chilling.

"Hmmmm...I'm guessing by your reaction that you have never done any sort of anal play," said Xanna with a slightly sinister chuckle.

"No Mistress," Laine mumbled through clenched teeth, her body rigid with fear. Xanna's finger continued to trace along the outside of her hole, teasing it slowly. It twitched at the stimulation and Laine felt a cold shudder that resolved into a tense aching. A fingertip went past the opening and her whole body spasmed. Xanna pulled her hand a way for just a moment and Laine relaxed, but not for long. Xanna pulled out a tiny jar and dabbed a small amount of the contents on her finger and moved her hand back into place. 

Laine felt a slick sensation on her backside then Xanna's finger went inside of her again; the slippery lubricant assisting against the struggling muscles. Laine let out a whimper, her body not knowing how to respond to this new experience. "Relax dear. Don't fight it. Don't fight ME. Just feel," Xanna whispered in her ear.

Laine unclenched her teeth and forced a stop to the panicked jerking of her body. She felt the pull of the sweet and calming darkness telling her what she already knew; obeying Mistress Xanna would bring deep pleasure and blissful release from her internal dialogue. Now that she was awakened to that bliss, that close approach to the void, she craved it beyond anything. She let herself slip in to the soft grey world. Her fear transformed at once into desire. Beneath the terror she could feel what Xanna was doing to the sensitive nerve endings and her body's response. She felt an unfamiliar, but not unpleasant gnawing hunger stir to life. Laine's glutes writhed on Xanna's hand. A moment later she cried out as an orgasm rippled through her surprised body. It was different from any she had ever had before; as if she had been shaken by catastrophic seismic forces and left intact. 

Xanna cradled the girl to her bosom as she let Laine rise and fall in shuddering waves of ecstasy. Laine cried and came and collapsed and came again and again. The permanent knot between Laine's shoulders began to untie and her stiff neck felt nimbler then it had in years. Laine's eyes again filled and flooded with tears of relief. Xanna kissed the tears away, knowing that they were not from sadness but born of feelings beyond words. Laine shook violently as another climax seized her wholly. Xanna stroked a few more paroxysms of pleasure out of her but slowed her finger's work and in a few more moments removed it and held Laine close. 

Laine's shaking slowed down as Xanna comforted her confused and still somewhat shocked body with gentle strokes and pets. "Good girl, yes just relax. That felt good, didn't it?" 

Laine dazedly nodded her head then remembered to add, "Yes Mistress."

"It makes you feel like such a bad girl to want these things, doesn't it pet?" Xanna whispered in her ear. Laine nodded again. "But then by doing them you become my good girl and that makes you happy, doesn't it dear?" 

Laine grinned gleefully and responded, "Yes Mistress. I want you to take this bad girl and make her good."

Xanna smiled down on Laine as she got to her feet. She unfastened several items from her belt and placed them on the coffee table. "Finish up your tea, then put these on. In the future they will be waiting for you on the table in the entryway."

Laine gulped down the last of her tea and looked on the table. There were two sets of cuffs, one for her wrists and one for her ankles, similar to the ones she had worn earlier in the night at the Ball. Sitting next to them was a simple strip of leather with a buckle on the back and an O ring on the front. Laine looked at the collar and couldn't contain a shiver at its implications.

Laine felt Xanna's hand on her shoulder in the familiar comforting way. She was outwardly affectionate, but her face was set in a stern expression. "This is your training collar. When you have it on, I expect total obedience. No questions, no recriminations and no explanations. Once we are done and the collar is off you can ask me whatever you want. And of course you can always stop by giving your safeword and removing the collar. But while it is on-I am in control. Are you able to give me that trust?" Xanna's tone and eyes softened with the last words and the hand on her shoulder gave her a gentle squeeze.

Laine was torn. A part of her cried out that she wasn't an inferior person to be collared and treated like a pet or... she ran away from the word... a slave. How could she do that even temporarily; to be demeaned and made subservient? She was close to panicking just at the suggestion. Laine raised her head to answer and met Xanna's eyes. The strength and emotion there made a very different argument. She remembered Xanna saying that real power was in being willing to give it up. She didn't believe Xanna thought she was inferior, but she couldn't stop herself from stammering, "Does this make me less of a person?"

Xanna embraced Laine. "No, no, never dear. Being submissive doesn't make you lesser or weak or a bad feminist or any of those negatives running through your head. It's the way you are and it isn't wrong. I want to help you understand that."

Xanna kissed Laine and helped her to her feet. Laine stood up straight, took a deep breath and picked up the set of ankle cuffs and buckled first one then the other. She followed with the wrist restraints, feeling the smooth leather circle her slim hands. Xanna looked on encouragingly as Laine picked up the collar and examined it. She ran her fingers over the surface. It was coarser then the leather of the wrist restraints, but thinner. The buckle was more elaborate, but not ostentatious. The O ring was simple and utilitarian. It wasn't heavy. It seemed as if minutes passed as Laine took in all the details, but it was really only a few seconds; her sense of time already fading away as she slipped further and further into twilight. She took one more sharp breath and put the collar around her neck. 

Xanna gave the order, "Kneel!"

Laine obeyed, dropping to her knees with her face to the floor. 

"Keep your back as straight as possible, bend at the waist and lift your palms up."

Laine adjusted her posture, changing from a slumped position to her one where her back was bent over at as close to a ninety-degree angle as she her body would allow and lifted her palms out in front. Xanna leaned over and attached a leash to the O ring. "Head up pet and follow Mistress."

Laine got up on her knees and crawled after Xanna fighting down the feeling of humiliation. Xanna had said to her earlier that she rarely ever made her servants crawl so she knew that this was a test. She was surprised as her shame and embarrassment passed rather quickly into a sense that on her knees serving was where she felt right. She felt a peace she had never known. The part of her that had always been perennially dissatisfied and frustrated was purring like a kitten in her breast. Every step took her deeper into the soothing darkness. 

Xanna led Laine down the hall to a door and opened it. She tugged at the leash for Laine to follow. Her knees sank into a plush deep black carpet. Laine raised her head and looked around and couldn't stifle a gasp of shock, "It's beautiful Mistress." If she had been surprised at the front room this one was even less what she had been expecting. Other than the carpet and the black metal light sconces the room was stark ethereal white. The curtains were like gossamer wings covering a white Roman shade on the window. A huge white four poster bed dominated the room. Across from the bed was a fireplace with a white marble mantle. A fire was merrily burning, sending patterns of shadows around the room. The hypnotic flickering of the fire made it even easier for Laine to clear her mind of her nagging concerns and just relax in her servitude. 

Xanna was so delighted at Laine's reaction she decided to allow her speaking out of turn to pass- this once. She would soon teach her new pet when to speak and when to remain silent. Xanna could see Laine drifting further and further into subspace. It was time to push her over the edge.

"Kneel."

Laine prostrated herself at Xanna's feet in the position she had been instructed to use. Xanna leaned over and released the leash. She ran her hand over Laine's hair. "From now on, you will only speak when ordered to answer a question. Do you understand?"

"Yes Mistress."

"Good girl," Xanna patted her head and Laine glowed inside.

"I want you to tell me what you are feeling. Describe it to me," Xanna said, her tone of command mixed with a touch of curiosity.

Laine paused for a moment then began, "It feels like I'm floating in an endless pool of blackness. But it isn't frightening. It's...soft. I don't know if that makes any sense."

Xanna patted her head again encouragingly. "Go on, it's soft?"

"It's like velvet cloth or an enormous blanket and I keep sinking in it and...it feels so good. So comforting and welcoming I want to just keep sinking. I'm sorry if I'm babbling Mistress."

"Not at all my dear. So it feels good to sink into the darkness?"

"Yes and...it feels like it wants me to go deeper. But I'm scared...I'm scared to lose myself."

Xanna smiled. She lifted Laine's chin up and raised her to her feet and led her over to the bed. "Isn't it just as likely you will find yourself in the dark?" Xanna asked. She stroked Laine's cheek gently and Laine's heart sang. If she could descend and not erase the person she was, but instead learn more than the darkness was a gift. A gift she couldn't thank Mistress enough for bestowing. 

"Lie down on your stomach spread eagle," Xanna commanded. Laine obeyed, noting the chains attached to each bed post. She stretched out her limbs on the enormous mattress. Xanna moved around, connecting each of Laine's cuffs to the chains. 




After the Ball



The clamps on Laine's nipples pinched harder with her lying on her stomach. She shuddered as the endorphin dose increased again and left her dizzy. She could hear Xanna behind her preparing something, but from her current position she couldn't see what it was and she knew better than to try and turn around and look. 

Xanna picked up the smallish metal vibrator she had carefully selected. She started on a slow setting and ran it up and down along the inside of Laine's thighs. Laine's pussy tingled, twitching the still tender piercing on her hood. She leaked juices all over the toy. Xanna rubbed it closer to her wet and glistening lips, making sure the toy was slick. The tip of the vibrator touched her clitoris and her mind exploded in orgasm. Xanna thrust the toy inside her and Laine cried out as she clenched around the invading shaft. 

Xanna's hand went up a little higher, back to Laine's nearly virgin asshole. It pulled away briefly and Laine heard a sound like a tube of toothpaste being emptied. In a moment the hand was back and Laine felt again the slimy sensation of lubricant on her second hole. A finger opened it back up. Xanna positioned the plug she had chosen at the entrance and slid it in. Laine bucked against plug, causing the vibrator to shift against her mound. She couldn't even gasp as the dual sensations began to surge through her body.

Xanna was at Laine's ear again. "That darkness you are floating in, I want you to completely surrender to it. I want you to sink as deep as you can as long as you can still hear my voice. I want you to let it fill you utterly. Don't fight it. Let go. Give in. It will feel so good to give in. You have my permission to cum; in fact I want you to cum as much and as hard as you can. Let the pleasure guide you down. Further and further, deeper and deeper. Let the darkness envelop you."

Xanna words were echoed in the darkness surrounding Laine. It would feel so good to just let go and give in to what it and Mistress and...yes what she really wanted. Another orgasm shook her to the core and she felt herself drift. "Yes dear. Yes. Just like that. Don't stop. Keep falling," Xanna cooed. There was nothing to fear. None of this was wrong. Laine's mind repeated Xanna's words over and over. They ingrained themselves into her core. Surrendering to the wonderful, seductive sensations would be perfection. 

Then the harsh rhythm of leather meeting skin started to beat out a pulse that shifted and deepened the dark world around Laine. Her heart beat in time with the overwhelming waves of sensation. She almost choked as it began to drown her, but the darkness wasn't liquid and her mind soon understood that she could be engulfed and still breathe. Now all she wanted was to be pulled down into to it; to let it fill her and re-make her into someone worthy to dwell in the stillness and silence.

Xanna watched Laine falling further and further into submission and she couldn't remember the last time she had been so pleased. She hadn't expected anything when she was hired to work the Ball. Laine was one in a million and she blessed her luck at finding the girl. Laine's trust was a glorious gift. She eagerly anticipated a future of training, controlling and caring for her dear Laine. 

Xanna leaned in and tightened Laine's clamps, bringing on another round of dizzying, ripping suffering that made Laine feel as if she were going to faint. Then the cooling numbness of her body's own natural painkillers took over once again and the cloudy haze in her mind grew heavier. She slipped further. Nothing else mattered in the world but pleasing her Mistress and glorying in the incredible sensations She brought. Laine's heart, mind and soul all merged into the adoration of the woman who had given her this gift of peace and desire. And service was the gift she willingly returned.

******

Laine was exhausted after her weekend and a long day of work but she knew if she didn't show up for "Margarita Mondays" at Esteban's her friends would ask questions she didn't have any idea how to answer. Laine drove the twelve miles to the next town to the only Mexican Restaurant in the county wishing she could go home and rest. She couldn't help but giggle at the thought that this was what her friends considered a crazy night out. It would be the same as any other Monday since they all turned twenty-one; three margaritas a piece (half the girls wouldn't finish the third) and the latest gossip about everyone they had ever known. 

Laine slid into the crowded booth next to her best friend Cassie. Tamara passed the pitcher and Laine poured herself a generous amount of drink. Jenna was rapidly relating a story about one of their classmates. "Can you believe that she moved to New York City? Oh my God what is she going to do there?" Jenna breathlessly finished. 

"Maybe she wants to be able to get a bagel at two in the morning?" Laine quipped. Her friends were caught off guard and stopped to look at her oddly. Laine was rarely the one to break in with a joke. She almost blushed in embarrassment, but Mistress Xanna's orders about not being ashamed of herself came to mind and she just grinned. Evelyn gave her a hard look then burst out laughing, "You're feeling your oats today Laine. You must have had a good weekend; none of us could get ahold of you yesterday. Sleeping off your big night at the ball with the freaks?"

Laine choked down her anger. She had figured her friends would never understand, especially not Evelyn. Evelyn had married her high school boyfriend the summer after graduation and never looked back. Laine paused a moment then thought of what she had been doing yesterday while Evelyn was trying to call and immediately instead of wanting to slap her she just smiled again.

"It was an...interesting experience," Laine replied coyly. 

Tamara howled laughing and slightly slurred, "Well that is pretty vague. I don't know how you of all of us...ok other than Cassie...ended up going through with it. Talk about the wallflower at the orgy." Ugh, Tamara must have gotten there first and had a head start on the other girls, Laine thought. Tamara was already turning into the mean, spiteful drunk she dreaded dealing with every week. But Laine swallowed and kept her cool once again.

Evelyn jumped to Laine's defense and Laine remembered why in spite of her lack of understanding she and Evelyn had been friends since grade school. "Knock it off Tam. I'm sorry I was a bitch earlier Laine. We'll leave you alone about it. I'm betting you probably bailed after about twenty minutes, but I give you points for doing that much." 

Cassie, who had been silent up until then, jumped in, "Besides Jenna weren't you just talking about Carol moving to New York? Do you know where?" Laine thanked everything for her best friend changing the subject; speculations about Carol's reasons for leaving their town were much more interesting to everyone than Laine's lack of details. 

Laine asked for the pitcher and squirmed a tiny bit as her piercing tickled when she shifted her weight. She hoped no one had noticed, but everyone seemed focused on Evelyn's anecdote about a receptionist at her husband's office. Laine heaved a sigh of relief and barely contained another tease on her clit. Cassie gave her a concerned look and Laine sat up straight and smiled and attempted to ignore her body's growing responses. Laine smiled at the thought of how Xanna would laugh at her trying to keep her bottle in the middle of a restaurant. 

Cassie gave Laine an even stranger look and Laine realized she had been staring into space thinking about her Mistress. She laughed out loud again and played it off, "Think I've had a little much to drink." Evelyn, Tamara and Jenna all laughed along with Laine. Cassie looked more concerned than ever.

"I think I should probably drive you home if you're that drunk. I can send Ben to pick up your car." Cassie suggested. 

"Thanks hon," Laine replied. She was happy to not have to worry about driving. The girls finished up their drinks and promised to do it again next week. Laine paid her tab and followed Cassie out to her car. She sat down in the passenger seat, grateful to be free of the prying eyes of most of her friends and able to just rest.

Cassie started the car and headed for the highway. She remained silent for the first few miles and then said, "Look Laine, I know something is up. You're really squirmy tonight. If you don't want to tell me that's fine, but I wish you would. I won't tell the others, you know that. But you seem distracted. Did you meet someone? I know Evelyn never forgave you for breaking up with Joe years ago, but you don't have to hide it from me."

Laine sat up, startled after the quiet, but she had been expecting the question all night. "Well...I guess I did... in a way," she answered sheepishly.

Cassie turned off the highway and headed down Main St. "Did you meet him at that Ball?" she asked.

Laine took a deep breath, "I met...Her at the Ball."

Cassie gasped. "Oh shit! I never even suspected...you never...I never had any idea you were gay."

"I'm not a lesbian. I guess I'm bi...but...it's more complicated than that."

Cassie parked and the two girls silently walked down the street and up a flight of stairs to Laine's tiny studio apartment above the drug store. Cassie sat on the couch and looked down at her hands. Laine sat down next to her friend. 

"Oh damn Cass...if you can't even look at me now I guess I understand. That's probably the way most people will react if they know and I better get used to it. That's why I wanted to be discrete and just not say anything."

Cassie looked up into Laine's eyes with her large hazel ones, "I've known you since we were six, I'm not going to stop being your friend just because of this, but if you're gay and dating a woman people are bound to react..."

Laine chuckled just a bit. "No it's not like that...well I'm not going to say it didn't get physical, but I can't say we're 'dating' either."

"Laine! You hooked up and with a woman?" Cassie couldn't keep the dismay out of her voice.

Laine sighed. Cassie was so innocent she hadn't quite put it together but either way she seemed appalled. "In a manner. I met a Domina named Mistress Xanna. I know it's hard to believe but...she helped me learn some things about myself. The main one being that I am a submissive. I want to please and serve and feel and oh Cass she made me feel so good and peaceful...I've never felt that wonderful." A look of pure happiness went over Laine's features. She continued, her face changing to a mild frown, "I doubt you will understand, but I hope you won't hate me or think I'm a freak like Evelyn..."

Cassie saw the sheer joy Laine felt and knew whether she understood or not she would never want to see that taken away from her best friend. Her beautiful, wonderful friend who looked so turned on as she talked about submitting. She couldn't stop herself as she leaned in and kissed Laine.

Laine's eyes lit up in shock, but she didn't pull away until Cassie finished the embrace. "Cassie!" she cried out. Cassie looked away, her face bright red. Laine paused a moment and re-grouped then put her hand on Cassie's shoulder. "Cass, I never knew you felt this way..."

Cassie looked away again. "I've always thought you were the greatest person I've ever known and so gorgeous, but I never said anything. I love Ben and I always figured he was all I would need. Then a couple of years ago, after you broke up with that creep your Freshman year, Ben and I were talking one night and I admitted I wished I could love him and you. No shock he got pretty turned on by the idea, but we both figured you would never...and then when you said you had met a woman I was shocked but mostly I was jealous. I didn't know what to think."

"Oh Cass...if I had ever known...but Xanna taught me so much about myself I never suspected. And now I'm learning more about my best friend." Laine hugged Cassie close and pulled her in for a kiss of her own. "You don't need to be jealous hon. If you met Mistress Xanna you would understand. Like she told me-love comes in many different forms and being open and accepting is true happiness."

Cassie returned Laine's kiss with fervent passion. She moved a tentative hand along Laine's arm, reveling in the feel she had dreamed about but never thought to experience; her best friend quivering under her touch. She stroked Laine's breast through her top and was rewarded with a whimper. Laine mumbled her friend and now lover's name over and over as she rained kisses and licks on Cassie's neck and shoulders.

Cassie paused to pull Laine's top off and followed by unhooking her bra; exposing her bosom. "Mmmmm, I've seen these so many times over the years. I've dreamed of this moment, but I never thought it would happen." She touched the silken skin and delighted at Laine's inchoate sounds of lust. Cassie's fingers explored every inch of Laine's breasts before trailing down and discovering the delights of her smooth abs. 

Cassie's hands dropped further down and removed Laine's slacks. She ran her hand along the bottom of Laine's panties and stopped when she felt something odd. She pushed aside the lace and revealed the silver hoop piercing on Laine's clitoral hood. Cassie gasped again in shock.

"What...what's that? You got pierced? On your clit?"

Laine blushed just a little. "Yes. Mistress had it done at the end of the Ball. It's her mark."

Cassie's eyes were as big as saucers. "What does it feel like?"

Laine smiled. "It feels really good. It hurt like hell when it was done and still hurts quite a bit now, but it's worth it for the near constant orgasms. It makes me feel sexy and horny and all those things I've always been scared of."

Cassie ran a finger over the hoop and watched Laine squirm and writhe. She teased at the piercing with her fingertip and Laine bucked harder. Laine reached out and pushed aside a lock of Cassie's dirty blonde hair and unbuttoned her blouse. Laine was surprised to see that underneath Cassie wasn't wearing a bra as her grapefruit breasts spilled out. Laine couldn't restrain herself another moment; she dived into Cassie's cleavage and began suckling. Cassie's moans bounced around the tiny apartment. 

Cassie's hand played around Laine's needy pussy. When she finally worked up her nerve a finger entered and Laine shuddered and spasmed around the single digit. Cassie added a second finger and was amazed at how hard Laine was gripping. A third finger stretched her a bit and Laine was forced to cease her attentions to her friend's breast to cry out. 

Laine rolled over and unzipped Cassie's skirt and added it to the growing pile of clothes on the floor and was even more surprised to see that her once-believed innocent friend Cassie wasn't wearing any underwear over her completely bald mound. Cassie blushed now and admitted, "I like the feeling of the air on my bare pussy and nipples. I guess that's what I do to feel sexy."

Laine threw away the very last vestige of restraint and buried her face between Cassie's legs. Her tongue tasted her best friend for the first time and she all but sobbed at the perfection of the moment. Cassie stretched out underneath her and they twined into a sixty-nine. Their muffled cries rang out through the room in celebration.

Laine wasn't sure how long it was before they collapsed exhausted. Cassie nuzzled Laine's neck and whispered, "I would like to thank your Mistress Xanna for giving us this."

Laine's eyes lit up. "You can. Why don't you come with me? I have a class...a training class...later this week. I will ask her permission, but from things she has said I don't think she will object."

Cassie thought for a moment. She remembered the happiness in Laine's eyes and her new confidence and openness. "I think I will," she said with a smile.



After The Ball



Karen was annoyed. Actually, that might have been understating it a little. She was fuming. This was the first official ball Karen had been to. She had been to other dances of course, but now that she was eighteen, this dance was her first official ball. It was nearly over and couples were drifting off and heading home. Karen had gone looking for Mike, her official partner, even though he was absent more than there during the dances. She'd had a crush on Mike for quite a while and as well as her first official ball it was also her first date with Mike. She'd been anticipating the drive home and a little bit of necking and flirting.

Where was Mike? Asleep in a chair in one of the side-rooms, having overdone it on the drinks and totally incapable of driving. She'd have to arrange for a taxi.

She wandered outside, trying to get a decent signal, temper not helped by trying to arrange for a taxi with a line that kept breaking up.

Andy was observing her frustration with some amusement. Finally spoke up and asked her what the problem was. "I thought you came with Mike. He's still here. Did you have an argument or is there a problem with his car."

Karen glared at him, and then sighed. It wasn't his fault. "No argument. You can't argue with someone who's had too much and is sleeping it off. And even if he wakes up there's no way I'd let him drive me in that state. I'm trying to get a taxi."

"No problem. I'm leaving now and I live out your direction. I'm within the legal limit and you know me."

That was the problem. Karen did know him and he had a bit of a reputation as a ladies man. Andy could see her biting her lip, clearly uncertain, and easily caught on to what the catch was. 

"Don't worry," he said. "I'll be on my best behaviour, I promise. I'd never force you to do something you didn't want."

Karen sighed. She admitted that his reputation was that of a charmer. She'd never heard of him actually muscling a girl to get what he wanted. Trouble was, it appeared he never had to. And she still hadn't been able to get a taxi organised. 

Andy waited, gently smiling, not trying to pressure her. Karen sighed. She was tired and wanted to go home and Andy was good company. She nodded.

In the car, Karen relaxed even further. She'd had a good night really, the night was warm with strong moonlight and Andy was good company.

They were travelling along the beach road, and Karen was startled and a little nervous when Andy turned into one of the beach parks and pulled up. She gently suggested to Andy that they should head on home.

Andy just smiled at her. "It's a lovely night, you can hear the waves breaking on the shore, the moon is full and it's time for a little romance. It's still reasonably early, you've had a nice time spoilt a little by Mike and you really deserve a little cuddle and a kiss before I drop you off." 

"That's all? Just a little cuddle and a kiss?"

"Come on, Karen," said Andy gently. It's the first time you've been out with me. Would I really try it on at this stage?"

"Probably," muttered Karen, "but alright. I don't mind a few kisses as long as you understand that that's it."

"You worry too much, sweetheart," Andy laughed. "If you think I'm getting out of line just slap me down. I'm a big boy. I can take it. Why don't we just sit in the back for a while. These bucket seats make it far too hard to hold you for that cuddle."

After the move Andy gently drew Karen into his arms and just held her lightly while she snuggled up next to him, enjoying his warmth. Then he tilted her head, lowered his own and gently kissed her. Looked up again and smiled at her. Next time he lowered his head the kisses weren't quite so gentle, stirring a delicious heat within her. Andy gently rubbed her back as he continued to kiss.

Karen enjoyed the kissing, that interesting warmth, and the gently caressing hand. She noticed that the rubbing was slowly dropping down, but didn't take any real notice until she realised that he was now rubbing her bottom. She stiffened slightly, wondering if she should protest, but before she could say anything the hand dropped down to rest against her upper thigh, and just stayed there.

Karen relaxed again, returning his kisses quite readily, snuggling closer. She didn't notice that Andy had moved his hand again until she realised that it was stroking her inner thigh, and skimming along the edge of her panties. "How had he managed that," she wondered, but enough was enough." She reached down, grabbed his hand and moved it firmly away from her leg.

Andy calmly moved his back up to her shoulder, gently rubbing the top of her back and then moving around to drift his hand across her chest, just above her cleavage. She felt his fingers brushing the top of her breasts, tracing them gently, across and to where her cleavage dipped into the top of her strapless dress.

Should she stop him? He's not really doing much, just touching lightly. Also, she found she was enjoying that gentle touch, could feel her breasts tightening slightly and realised that she was lifting them to enjoy the feel. She'd let it continue, she decided. She could always call a halt if she thought he was going too far.

Andy gently followed up his small advantage, letting his fingers dip under the edge of the dress, teasing those lovely globes a little more, dipping a finger far enough under to brush a nipple.

Karen tensed a little, lifted her hand and placed it on Andy's, not to push it away as such but just to hold it in place and stop it exploring. Andy paused in his exploring of her breasts for a few moments, then slipped his hand out from under hers, continuing to tease her boobs, finger slipping under the edge of the dress and then out again.

Kissing lightly and touching lightly.

Andy started kissing her a little more deeply, touching a little more firmly, not rushing, just taking his time. His lips drifted away from hers, brushing her neck and then drifting across her front, following the path of his inquisitive fingers.

Karen felt her top slipping. All those little dips under the edge were gradually pushing it down. She hesitated, was reaching to hitch the top back up when it slipped that extra bit and dropped off, freeing her breasts. Andy's hand promptly followed it down, capturing one breast, squeezing it and rubbing the nipple, while his lips moved to the other breast, taking the nipple in his mouth and sucking gently.

Karen froze. She shouldn't let this happen. She should stop it now. But it felt so good, and that warmth she'd been feeling was spreading, curling slowly through her. She relaxed a little. It wouldn't hurt to let it continue.

Relaxing, enjoying the gentle suckling on her breast, not noticing that part of the warmth was being generated by a hand that had slipped back to her leg and was slowly stroking her inner thigh, moving up in easy stage. A finger stroked along the edge of her panties and then gently trailed up moving across her mound to the top of her panties. 

That gentle touch on her pussy trickled through into Karen's consciousness. "He's touching me there," she thought incredulously, "and I'm not stopping him?" 

Andy continued to play around her panties, stoking her through them, slipping his fingers under them and touching her naked lips. Withdrawing and moving elsewhere, slowly stirring up that budding heat.

Karen felt Andy take her hand and move it, placing it on his lap and leaving it there. His hand wandered back to her breast, squeezing in time to the rhythm he was generating within her pussy.

"Why did he put my hand here?" wondered Karen. "What does he expect me to do?" She knew where her hand was, so that lump under there must be...

Karen moved her hand tentatively to the side, finding that at some stage Andy had found time to unzip. Her hand slipped in, feeling for what she knew she would find. Her fingertips brushed his erection, then her hand closed over it, marvelling at what she was doing. His erection was hot and hard in her hand. Following her instincts Karen moving her hand up and down the shaft, enjoying the feel, rubbing her thumb over the head and feeling a rush within when she felt Andy gasp.

Andy continued to stroke Karen, then slipped his hand up to the top of her panties and slid them down. Now her pussy is properly exposed to his wandering fingers, and his fingers were soon easing apart her lips and dipping within, feeling the heat and moisture there. Rubbing and stroking, entering and withdrawing, steadily building the tensions and expectations. 

Andy moved his free hand around to Karen's side, seeking the zip, finding it and running it down. Karen feels her dress loosening, and then sagging around her waist. With a slight hint from Andy she lifted her hips up off the seat for a moment while Andy deftly skipped the dress under them and off, to lie pooled at her feet. Andy reach back up and finished removing her panties, leaving her dressed in garter belt and stockings.

With a sigh Karen relaxes and lets Andy continue kissing her relishing the feel while his hand was busy lighting little fuses between her legs. She could feel the heat flowing up from her pussy and down from her breasts, seeming to pool deep within her. The fire was burning steadily and had to addressed.

Andy opened the car door, scooping up a blanket from the floor and with a deft flick spread it on the grass next to the car. He turned back to the car and held out his hand to Karen.

Karen stared at him, glanced down at the blanket and then back to Andy, standing there with his hand outstretched. "It's going to happen", she thought. "If I take his hand he's going to screw me. If I look away, he won't." 

She blushed. "I'm naked, and he wants to fuck me. What do I do?"

She reached out and placed her hand on his. Never taking his eyes off her, he drew her from the car and down onto the blanket.

Andy slipped off his trousers, moving onto the blanket next to her. Once again the touching started, kissing her lips while his hand played with her sensitive points, rekindling the heat before it really had a chance to die down.

Andy hooked a foot around one of Karen's ankles, drawing her legs further apart. Moved over her and between her thighs, holding his weight away from her while letting his erection rest on her. 

"OK?" he murmured in a whisper.

"OK?" came the answering whisper, expectation and anticipation plain in the voice. 

Andy gently moved her lips apart, and pressed the head of his cock against her, releasing the lips to close over him.

Eased in, taking it gently, not knowing if she was a virgin or not. Even though he didn't notice any physical evidence he strongly suspected that she was from her bewildered and interested reactions to what had been happening.

Karen felt him moving deeper now, filling her. She was surprised but pleased that there was no pain. "They must be horror stories to stop us doing this. Why would anyone want to stop us doing this?"

Now deep within her Andy paused, watching Karen's face. Her eyes were bright and staring at him, her expression concentrating, enjoying what she was feeling and waiting impatiently for more. Andy smiled down at her, was met with an answering smile, and then he started to move.

Karen gasped. The initial entry had been interesting and had felt nice, but this was something else. Suddenly, she lost interest at looking at Andy. That was just distracting her from this cock moving within her. She felt Andy surging into to her, backing up and thrusting forward again. She moved with him eagerly, matching his thrusts, urging him on, wanting it, harder and faster. Please. I need this. Babbling. Not knowing what she was saying, only knowing she needed this sensation to continue, striving to reach a climax, determined to get there.

Andy was moving faster now, happy to feel Karen meeting and matching his efforts. Feeling the tensions rising within him and seeing them rise in her, just a little slower. Andy frantically tried to hold back, wanting to make sure that Karen came first, realised it was hopeless and let himself go, venting his climax within her.

Karen was gasping rising higher, seeming to stall on a peak and linger there while Andy pressed home. Felt a sudden spurt from Andy and a hot liquid wash spill inside her. Knowing that was what she'd wanted and climaxing, her muscles locking onto Andy, trying to hold him within her while she gasped thorough her orgasm.

Relaxing afterwards, lying contented on the blanket.

"Liar," she said. "Best behaviour, you said."

"What, I wasn't good enough?" Andy queried. "I'll have to try harder. What are you doing tomorrow night?"



After the Ball



Notes: (1) The main male character's name is Caelum, intended to be pronounced "Ky-lum." (2) This is the first time I have tried to write in quite this style, so I apologize in advance if any of it comes off sounding silly instead of sexy. (3) I do take a bit of time coming to the point, but I promise we do get there in the end.

*****

A sea of adolescent girls parted for the man striding down the hallway. Torches flickered in his wake and some of the girls looked curiously after him. He was a tall man, his shining black mane tied back discreetly and his beetle-black eyes glittering with thinly disguised malice. Neither his expression nor his outfit—an all-black combination of long-sleeved, high-necked buttoned tunic; trousers; leather boots; and unbuttoned overcoat—nor his apparent expectation that the girls would scurry out of his way were at all unusual, but some of them wondered at the obvious purpose with which he strode down the hall. One or two of the girls lingered to watch him, taking a tentative step after him as if they wished to follow him and locate the source of his agitation. But it was apparent that he would not have appreciated their intrusion, so in the end each went on her way.

The man, for his part, stormed down the halls toward the second floor lounge, where he knew he would find the person he sought. He flung the door open more carelessly than he usually would, startling the tall woman standing before the fireplace. The woman actually smirked when she saw him, softening her usually severe face before schooling it into a slight frown. The man took in her appearance—as tall as he, but with dark copper hair streaked here and there with steely silver, sharp green eyes, and a formal day dress of darkest green.

"What is the meaning of this?" he asked in a low, silky tone, brandishing a square of folded parchment in her direction.

"Of what?" the woman replied, pretending innocence.

"This note you have sent me, Headmistress."

"I should have thought the meaning would be quite clear, Caelum," she said, her Northern accent coming through a bit more strongly now. "You are to escort Miss Blake to the Ball this weekend."

"Why must it be me? You know how I detest these things."

"In case it has escaped your notice, you are currently the only male on staff here at Hawthorne. You know as well as I that you were only spared the duty because Bishop had been willing to escort her in previous years. But he is...well, obviously he is no longer able to do so, even if we were able to locate him. So the task falls to you."

"But Nora—"

"But nothing, Caelum. She must go. Unless you are suggesting taking on the duties of a guardian and arranging something for her..."

"Very well," he grumbled, the fight leaving him at once. "I will go."

"Very good. Now, be off with you. I have already notified Miss Blake of the change and she will be awaiting you in the hall tonight."

"Tonight?" His voice came dangerously close to a whine at this.

"Certainly," the Headmistress sniffed. "Bishop and Miss Blake always left Friday evening and returned Sunday evening. The Ball is all the way at Southumbridge and I understand it takes about four hours to get there by carriage. It would never do for Miss Blake to arrive at the Ball exhausted from the journey. You know as well as I that she must be at her very best, this year more than ever before."

"This," he replied acidly, "was the very reason for the invention of the motorcar, as I am sure that you are aware."

"Nevertheless, tradition demands arrival by carriage."

"Surely we could arrive in Southumbridge by car and rent a carriage in town."

"There will be no further argument, Caelum. Be in the hall before nine o'clock to take your leave. Tomorrow you will be separated from her until the Ball itself begins, so perhaps you should endeavor to enjoy Southumbridge. It has been a long time since you travelled anywhere for leisure."

"And let us not begin now," he muttered, leaving the room.

*****

Sofia Blake arrived in the hall at precisely eight-thirty, clutching her leather satchel to her chest as she sat meekly in one of the creaky chairs in the hall. Her ball gown was in its wrappings hanging from the back of the chair and her overnight bag sat at her feet. Each time she heard footsteps nearby she jumped, glancing down the hall for any sight of Professor Elwyn. Sofia had her own reasons for wishing that Bishop was still at Hawthorne to take her to the Matching Ball, but when Headmistress Tierney makes a decision such as which staff member will escort a girl to the Ball, a girl just doesn't argue. She gazed vaguely at the wall opposite her, brushing imaginary flecks of lint from her uniform skirt and wishing she didn't need to go at all.

There was no shame in a girl of her age still attending the Ball. She had seen girls as old as twenty there, lively and vivacious and not at all ashamed. In fact it seemed that for some girls, attending the Ball after they had come of age and no longer needed an escort was actually an advantage because the young men approached them with more confidence.

The Matching Ball was an event that all those young people who had lost their parents looked forward to. The population of Connaught still held to the old ways, when a young person's family arranged their marriage. Since the Great War so many adolescents had been left without any family that the old tradition of the Matching Ball had been reinstated. No one was forced to go, but it was quite difficult to meet good prospects for marriage without attending, as parents rarely arranged marriages for their children with orphans. It just wasn't done. Yet marriage was one of the values most strongly inculcated in Connaught schools.

So the Matching Ball, a quite old tradition with proud roots in Connaught was held each year in October. Young orphans who wished to join in marriage were sent, either escorted or sponsored by those who housed them, and they all socialized together in the hopes of meeting a match. If a match was made at the Ball, the young couple in question would have the opportunity to see each other during the following months to confirm that it was a good match before marrying.

Some orphans came as large groups from orphanages or workhouses, but Sofia knew she was one of the lucky ones. Most of the prestigious boarding schools in Connaught accepted several orphaned adolescents as wards, provided the child had the proper intellect and manners. Sofia's parents had been planning to submit her to the Hawthorne Academy for Domestic and International Arts since her birth, and their death had not prevented their daughter from taking her place at the school. Hawthorne had among the strictest standards for acceptance and currently had only three orphans in residence—one was too young for the Ball yet, and the other had already made her match. This year, as last year, Sofia would be alone. Escorted by Professor Elwyn.

Hawthorne Academy was an all-girls school and historically had an all-female staff. After the death of their last chemistry professor, the Headmistress had had some difficulty finding another female professor currently qualified for the position. So she had called upon one of the professors from the Drew School, Hawthorne's all-boys equivalent. Professor Elwyn, as a highly regarded young man with an impeccable family tradition, was considered a sufficient replacement by those in the community and had done so well with the Hawthorne girls that Headmistress Tierney had never attempted to replace him.

He was an unusual man, stoic and reserved. He was a harsh taskmaster in the classroom and never discussed anything about his personal life. Yet the girls all seemed to know that Professor Elwyn had no family left and had once been married, though his wife had apparently died at a very young age—presumably in childbirth. He was never seen in any color other than black, the only skin showing his face and his pale, delicate hands. He was a handsome man, Sofia thought, but she knew that not many of the other girls shared her opinion.

In any case she had been surprised to find out that he was to be her escort. Of course Bishop's disappearance had meant that he could not take her anymore. Bishop had been the caretaker of the academy, and no one really knew why or where he had gone. Sofia had been fond of Bishop, a young man who laughed as often as he talked, and he had been an entertaining escort to the Ball. She had hoped that he would have contacted her after he left to tell her where he had gone, but no letter ever came. She supposed it made sense for Professor Elwyn to be her escort, as he was the only man left at Hawthorne. But with the Drew School up the road by several miles, she saw no reason why the Headmistress could not have recruited some other, more amenable, young man.

Sofia at last caught sight of Professor Elwyn striding down the hallway, resignation pouring off him in waves, and knew she was exactly right in her guess that he would hardly take to this duty with enthusiasm. He just didn't seem the type to enjoy the frivolities of dances and parties. He stopped just in front of her, looking at her parcels with mild disgust.

"Well?"

Sofia scrambled up from her chair, taking up her ball gown and overnight bag and hoisting her satchel more securely over her shoulder. Professor Elwyn turned on his heel, his long coat swirling behind him as he marched toward the front door. Sofia blew out a breath and followed in his wake, mentally preparing herself for an awkward weekend.

*****

A carriage was already waiting in front of Hawthorne. Although Sofia struggled a bit to get all of her parcels into the carriage Professor Elwyn made no offer of help. He stood impassively at her side until she had climbed up into the carriage and then shut the door behind her before going around to the other side of the carriage and climbing in. It was a carriage intended to hold four or six people, with two facing benches on the interior. Sofia was facing forward on the right side of the carriage and noticed that Professor Elwyn had sat as far away from her as humanly possible. He did not look at her or attempt to converse, merely looked moodily out the window.

Sofia made a face at him, but schooled her face into her usual blandly pleasant expression before he turned to glance at her suspiciously. When he turned back to the window Sofia opened her satchel and retrieved the book that she had set on top, an old English romance novel. She crossed her legs demurely, checking to be sure that her skirt was properly arranged over her thighs, and settled down to read in the dim light of the tiny torches in the carriage.

*****

Caelum Elwyn was not looking forward to the Matching Ball. He resisted the urge to manhandle his clothing, calming himself enough to properly press and fold each item before placing it in his bag. The truth was that he rarely attended parties or balls of any kind and particularly detested those intended to be enjoyed by adolescents. It wasn't that he hated children or teenagers, really. After all he did work at an academy and he did so willingly. Of course he did so in order to fund his private research and have a well-equipped lab in which to perform said research. But he could admit that he took a certain enjoyment in knowing that he was preparing young minds to enter the field and make their own contributions.

But attending parties and functions specifically intended for adolescents to socialize was far down on his list of activities to enjoy. In fact he would rather have been strung up in the dining hall by his ankles—anything to avoid having to watch the preening and giggling and awkward interactions between boys and girls meeting for the first time. Even when he had been that age he certainly did not remember having acted in such a manner. At the gatherings he had attended he had comported himself with dignity and had encouraged the same in his schoolboy friends. They had engaged in the traditional dances of the time and he had certainly walked a girl or two across the room or outside onto the balcony for a brief chat. Long enough to get to know her, short enough to avoid any accusations of impropriety. Even as an adolescent he had been concerned with appearances.

Perhaps because his grandfather had been the vicar of a very prominent church in the south of Connaught, his parents had drilled into him the necessity of maintaining a carefully designed appearance of propriety. His parents had, most unfortunately, taken the view that what happened behind closed doors was exempt from the rules regarding propriety. They had both carried on numerous affairs, souring him on the concept of true love and marriage as a means of lifelong affectionate companionship. Yet the community at large had somehow never discovered these affairs, and so their son Caelum had never been disgraced.

His parents, too, had been casualties of the Great War, but he had come to adulthood before their demise. He had approached the Headmaster of his own academy to discuss an appointment after several years abroad apprenticing and had taught there for a few years before moving to Hawthorne. All in all teaching girls was little different from teaching boys. Old-fashioned though Connaught might have been, there were some quite old traditions that were now in vogue in the rest of the world. Both girls and boys were given the same basic education and were not only allowed but in fact encouraged to follow the career path that appealed to them.

Thus women had always been welcome in politics, math and sciences research, higher-level management work, essentially in all those arenas where women in the greater world have had to fight for acceptance. And in return men were as frequently found excelling in the domestic arts and keeping house or staying home to raise their own children. Girls in Caelum's chemistry classes had run the gamut between total idiots and those immensely talented in the class. The girl currently sitting across from him, nose buried in a book, Miss Sofia Blake, was between these two extremes.

Frankly he'd never taken much notice of her, although he had taught her for six years now. He recalled, vaguely, that she had been a bit of a chatterer when he had first taken over the science classes. A bit flighty, with a tendency to talk to her fellow students rather than keeping her mind on each day's lecture. Now that he thought about it he realized that she had matured quite a bit in six years. She was much more studious now, a lot quieter in class. He glanced over at her, reading the title of the book she was holding, and snorted. In fascination he watched the girl stiffen and then lift her head to stare at him over her book.

"Is something the matter, Professor Elwyn?" she asked evenly.

"Not a thing, Miss Blake. Only that I am not surprised to see you reading a work of such romantic nonsense."

"If you must know," she replied, sounding a bit irritated, "I am reading this for my literature class. It was not my own choice."

"Oh, indeed. In that case perhaps I shall have a word with the Headmistress about the syllabus."

"I am sure that she will give all due value to your opinion on the matter, sir."

Sofia turned back to her book and Caelum lifted his eyebrows slightly. Impertinent girl, he thought. He had certainly not missed her meaning, although she had said it politely enough that he could not challenge her about it. Crossing his arms, he sat back and leaned his head against the scant cushion behind him. The jostling of the carriage would not stop him from dozing on their way to Southumbridge.

*****

When Caelum awoke the carriage had stopped. All but one of the torches inside the carriage had gone out. In the dim flickering light of the one left aflame he saw Sofia curled up on the bench across from him, fast asleep. The softness of sleep imbued her face with the radiance of youth. Caelum felt a strange and unexpected sensation in his chest, but he could not identify it and did not think about it further. They must have arrived at the State Building in Southumbridge that hosted all of the attendees and escorts of the Matching Ball. Caelum touched Sofia's shoulder lightly and she jerked awake, staring wide-eyed at him.

"We have arrived," he said quietly. Sofia nodded, a bit too quickly, and sat up in her seat, pressing her palms to her knees.

The carriage door opened and Caelum saw a whirlwind of activity taking place just outside the State Building. Adolescent arrivals were chatting and giggling despite the late hour, although some were staggering up the steps half-asleep. Attendees could be as young as eleven years old, though most that age would surely have arrived and be upstairs asleep in their beds by now. Adult escorts and those who worked for the State chaperoning and planning the Ball were standing around watching indulgently as adolescent attendees eyed each other shyly or greeted old acquaintances.

A fresh-faced young woman approached their carriage with a smile. "Sofia, isn't it, from Hawthorne? I don't know if you'll remember me..."

"Caryn, right? I remember you from last year," Sofia said, smiling for the first time that night. "It's good to see you again."

"It's wonderful to see you, too, Sofia. Will this be your last ball, do you think?"

"One way or the other," she answered cryptically.

"Let me just help you out and I'll show you up to your room." The woman leaned into the carriage to take Sofia's overnight bag and started at the sight of Caelum. "Oh, hello," she said, her voice dropping a bit lower. "I was...expecting Bishop."

"Bishop was...indisposed this year," Caelum said.

"Yes, we don't really know what happened to him. Anyway, Professor Elwyn was gracious enough to escort me this year," said Sofia. She seemed slightly annoyed, and Caelum couldn't understand why she would be. He supposed she disliked the reminder that she should have been escorted by the younger, more attractive, and entirely too gregarious caretaker. Caryn was still staring at him, and didn't look away until Sofia had pushed past her to exit the carriage. Caryn trotted after her and Caelum shouldered his bag and followed them both.

Sofia was striding up the front steps of the State Building, obviously ignoring the questions Caryn was directing at her. Caelum looked about, a bit lost, surprised that Sofia had walked away without even a word to him. He would have to have a discussion with her about manners later. Just then a young man approached him, a bit cautiously.

"Pardon me, sir, but are you perhaps an escort to the Matching Ball?"

"I am certainly not an attendee," he said dryly.

"Of course not, sir. Is this your first year escorting?"

"It is."

"We are honored to have you here with us, sir. My name is Trent, and I'm a chaperone here. Let me take you inside to check you in and I will explain our schedule." Trent led Caelum inside the State Building and up to the front reception desk. "Hi, Margarethe," he grinned flirtatiously at one receptionist.

"Oh, Trent," she smiled. "Who have you got with you?"

"Hmm, forgot to ask his name. Oops." He smiled winningly before turning to Caelum. His smile wilted a bit around the edges faced with Caelum's stony visage. "Ahem. May I get your name and institution, sir?"

"Professor Caelum Elwyn, Hawthorne Academy."

"Thank you." Margarethe scanned the list. "You are escorting a Miss Sofia Blake, is that right?"

"It is."

"It looks like she checked in a few moments ago." Caelum inclined his head. "All right, you're in Escort Block B, Room 1221."

"Thank you."

Trent led Caelum toward the lift. "The Ball, as you know, is tomorrow evening. Saturday festivities our groups are separated. Attendees will take meals together, all the girls in one group and all the boys in another. Escorts may take meals with the other escorts or may explore Southumbridge on their own. You will need to return at seven o'clock to meet your charge. You may meet at the base of the stairs on the third floor, and then you may escort your charge to the ballroom. At the Ball you do not need to be beside your charge at all times but you do need to be aware of where she is.




After the Ball



"Festivities end at one o'clock, and you will escort your charge back to her room. On Sunday morning your charge will inform you if she has made any matches. It is your responsibility to contact the matches' sponsors and connect the boys to your charge so they may make arrangements to meet afterward. Breakfast and lunch may be taken, again, with the other escorts or separately, and then you will return back to your institution. Does that make sense?"

"Quite."

"All right then," Trent said, clearly taken aback by Caelum's brevity. "If you need anything else, call down and ask for me.

"Thank you, I will. You have been most helpful." He stepped into the lift and gave his floor number to the attendant. The lift clanked and rattled as it ascended to his floor. Caelum wandered down the hallway, reading the hammered door numbers by the light of the torches lining the walls. At the end of the hall he found his room, quite satisfied to be as far away from the other rooms as possible. It wasn't that he was antisocial, exactly, but everyone he had seen was far more excited about the Ball than he was—he couldn't imagine what he would have in common with them.

Alone at last at two o'clock in the morning he took a quick, hot bath and retired to his bed, wondering what Sofia was thinking on the eve of what he supposed must be her fifth Matching Ball.

*****

In fact Caelum's young charge was not really thinking about the Ball except that for the first time she wondered why she was there. She had attended her first three Balls on the advisement of Headmistress Tierney and under the expectation that it was just what young orphaned girls did. Last year she had mostly gone because she had enjoyed Bishop's company and the time away from school, which she, as an orphan, would not otherwise have gotten. But there had been no new boys last year. It was rare for older boys to suddenly take an interest in the Balls so she expected that the only new faces would be the 11- and 12-year olds at their first Ball. She had no interest in marrying a much younger boy, in fact was wondering if she had much interest in marrying anyone at all.

There had been a few boys over the years that had attracted her attention, but not to consider marrying. Fraternization, so to speak, did occasionally occur at a Matching Ball, she knew, but it was rather difficult to do successfully. Boys and girls were generally kept on separate floors at the State Building, with escorts on the floors in between. Connaught still held to those old traditions that young women and men were not to be left in private until their wedding night. Sofia didn't know enough about the concept of sexual compatibility to feel this was unfair. All she knew was that she had felt the tension when Caryn had leaned into the carriage to speak with Caelum, and she hadn't liked it at all. A terrible spike of some emotion she couldn't name had risen up within her and she'd had to quash it. Tomorrow would be better.

*****

Saturday morning dawned late and soft, infusing Sofia's room with gentle butter-yellow light. She heard the slight commotion in the hall of dozens of nattering girls and gave thanks again that she had been blessed with her own private room. Rising from her all-too-comfortable bed she dressed in her school uniform. Although she was an orphan her parents had left her considerable funds to support herself once she left Hawthorne. Headmistress Tierney had taken Sofia aside upon her admission at age seven and advised her to avoid fancy clothing and other fripperies and nonsense, and instead save her pennies for life on her own. After all she would quickly grow out of the pretty little dresses she could only wear on weekends anyway.

Sofia might have been a flighty chatterbox, but she was not unintelligent and she heeded the Headmistress's advice. School uniforms were provided for her, as was her room and board at Hawthorne, the one benefit of being an orphan. The only money she had spent on her own clothing, then, was her ball gown for the Ball each year. This year's dress was her favorite, for what it was worth. She had meant what she'd said to Caryn. This year would be her last year at the Ball.

The hallway was, as she'd predicted, full of chattering girls. They moved in groups, most of them having come from orphanages or academies that took more than one or two orphans each year. She wished suddenly that she wasn't alone. At her first Ball several years ago she'd met a sweet fellow orphan named Zara and the two had taken meals together and pointed out boys to each other at the Ball. But Zara had met her match last year and wouldn't be coming back. Sofia and Zara wrote each other every week, though, and one of the first things Sofia wanted to do when she left Hawthorne was to visit Zara and her new husband.

She sat alone at breakfast, not making any friendly overtures to the other girls. Why should she? She wasn't going to come back next year. As the girls were escorted from the dining room by their chaperones and back up to their rooms to spend the day reading, napping, or primping, they caught a glimpse of the escorts and other State Building staff exiting their own dining room. Sofia was surprised to see Caelum, straight-backed and grim looking, and at his elbow a shining-eyed Caryn. She stopped still in the middle of the hallway, her fists balling up tightly at her sides. Her eyes burned into Caryn's back and the other woman turned as if she could feel it, giving a surprised and slightly amused expression to Sofia. Caryn turned back to murmur something to Caelum, but as he looked around her to focus on Sofia she spun on her heel and dashed upstairs.

Saturday should have been spent reading her texts in preparation for Monday classes, but Sofia couldn't focus. She had been so irrationally furious at the sight of Caryn and Caelum together. There was no reason at all for it. She supposed she was jealous...not of Caelum's attention, she told herself, but because she was the one there to make a match, not Caryn.

The more she analyzed her actual feelings seeing Caryn and Caelum together, she realized that she was only lying to herself. It was ridiculous to think of being jealous of the attention Caelum showed to another woman. There were so many reasons she shouldn't be attracted to him—he was her teacher and she was his student, she was an orphan and had to arrange her marriage with another orphan, he was probably twice her age, he had absolutely no special interest in her. He was her teacher and she was his student...

Her friends would ridicule her if they knew. No one else thought of Caelum as much of a man as it was. They found him too severe, too many sharp lines and angles, not enough of the softness of a boy. They found his clothing laughably conservative and plain. They found his mannerisms old-fashioned and his speech too formal. They'd gone into paroxysms of hilarity when they had thought of him as a young man courting his wife. Sofia hadn't joined in the teasing, not with any intent. At the time she hadn't fancied him, but she had respected him. He was one of the most brilliant people she knew and she idolized him as a master in his field.

Some time in the past year that respect had obviously grown to something resembling affection. There was no question of doing or saying anything to alert him of it. Although she would be leaving Hawthorne in the spring it would be the height of foolishness to bring it up to him in any way. He might banish her from his classes, and she desperately wanted to have a complete education before leaving the academy. She would just have to keep it to herself.

Sofia spent the remainder of her afternoon napping off her late night. When she went down to take an early supper with the rest of the girls she assiduously avoided looking around to see if she could spot Caelum. She held her head up haughtily and kept her eyes forward. Afterward she resolutely looked away from the escort dining room as she ascended the stairs to prepare for the Ball. She had two hours and it would have to be enough time.

*****

Caelum was, if possible, more irritated now than he had been when he had received notice that he would be required to escort Miss Blake to the Matching Ball. The bright-eyed, enthusiastic, and entirely too attentive Caryn had apparently attached herself to him with the objective of making sure he had a good time while at the State Building. Of course he would have been far more entertained had he simply been left alone. He hadn't even been terribly polite to her, and he was sure his annoyance with her was being broadcast far and wide. Which was why he was so puzzled by the sudden show of temper by Miss Blake after breakfast.

Caryn had pointed the girl out to him laughingly, but he didn't see what was so funny. Sofia was obviously bothered by something, and it was clear that it involved either him or Caryn herself. The chaperone didn't seem uncomfortable at all, but Caelum was left wondering what the problem was. It was uncharacteristic of the girl, who always seemed to have a pleasant expression and a kind word—or at worst, he thought, remembering her cheeky attitude in the carriage the previous night, a slightly tart sarcastic response. The girl had always seemed mild-mannered to him, and it was a puzzle what could have infuriated her so.

And when he had seen her later in the day she had seemed no less furious, only more determined not to show it. She was holding herself in the way people—especially young ladies, in his experience—do when they are trying to keep themselves from revealing their true feelings. Or perhaps to keep herself from seeing the very thing that would set her off. It was an admirable attempt and an intelligent choice, and he approved of it. It surprised him that he would approve of anything related to Miss Blake outside the classroom, or any student. He always resisted thinking of them in personal terms, if at all possible. They were students to him, and nothing more.

He dressed with the resignation of a man going to the gallows, suppressing the dim amusement he felt in anticipation of Miss Blake's reaction to his attire. It was no secret that his clothing was a matter of no small mockery among the girls at Hawthorne, though he hardly cared. His outfits were chosen with propriety and efficiency in mind, and he could not have cared less for the fashion of the day. Usually. A Ball was a different matter and, hated or not, the very idea of showing up in his overly reserved black-on-black garments rankled his ego. He suspected, rightfully, that his appearance would be of no small amazement to Miss Blake. He failed to realize that her visage would cause him equal consternation.

Caelum appeared on the third floor at the appointed time, noticing with some satisfaction a few appraising looks thrown his direction. When he bothered at all with his appearance he could be quite dashing, or so he had heard. Then he noticed a few heads turning toward the staircase to see the girl now descending. He followed their gazes upward and was rather astonished at what he saw. It was clearly, recognizably, Miss Blake. Gone was the dowdy, unflattering school uniform with its shape-obscuring skirt and its clunky shoes. Gone was the severe bun, the pale face always free of adornment, and the awkward, slightly coltish gait of the girl who had obviously attained her last few inches a bit too quickly.

In her place was a rather striking young woman in a form-fitting gown of a most adult color—light grey with a faintly bluish tinge—that exposed her shoulders and lifted the bosom Caelum had never taken notice of, leaving bare a most enticing décolletage. Her ears held pearl dewdrops, her collarbone a thin silver chain, and on her feet were a pair of silk slippers to match her gown. Her hair, Caelum noticed now, was the same ink black as his own, and it now curled softly around her shoulders rather than being swept tightly up as it usually was. Her face was no longer pale and bare, but made up artfully, subtly, giving her a soft—and most welcome—flush. She took her time in walking, stepping down each stair consciously with her skirt tucked in one hand. Caelum knew his mouth was open, and struggled to close it before she looked up and saw him. He knew she had spotted him when her face assumed the same expression his had moments ago.

*****

Taking time with her appearance was something Sofia rarely had the luxury of, and even more rarely had the reason for. The Academy was both her home and her leisure place, and she spent many weekends ensconced in the library or lounging on the grounds with her friends. At a school where girls were the only pupils, and the only man on campus very firmly not interested, many of them forewent the usual trappings of darling dresses and plenty of makeup they might have bothered with at parties when they went home. Sofia was no exception, but counted herself quite lucky to have a few friends skilled in the art of all things feminine. From them she learned the touches of makeup and fashion that suited her, so that at least she would have the knowledge when the time came.

She spent early Saturday evening bathing, dressing, and preparing face and hair for the evening ahead. She did not attempt to fool herself into hoping that Professor Elwyn would even take notice of the change, but if by some miracle any young man did intrigue her, she wanted to be prepared. By the time she was ready to leave her room she noticed that she was running a few minutes late. It would be just like Professor Elwyn to be stewing about the extra time he'd had to wait for her, so she hurried down the hall toward the staircase. At a quick glance toward the floor below she did not see him, so she took her time on the stairs. Her slippers were quite new and she hadn't much time to practice in them yet.

At nearly the bottom of the stairs she looked up again, but this time she spotted Professor Elwyn straight away. To her very great surprise, she saw that he was not wearing black. Not any black at all, save perhaps for his boots. To be sure wore a rather dark color, but still to see him in any color at all was a bit of a shock. She looked him over as she descended the remaining stairs. His black hair was tied back as usual, and his face was set in blank lines as usual, but that was all that remained the same. His boots were knee high and shined to a high gloss. Tucked into them was a pair of midnight blue breeches, which matched the short coat he wore. Underneath his coat could be seen a silk vest of cerulean, meticulously embroidered with gold thread, and underneath that an impossibly soft-looking white shirt with a lightly ruffled front. At his neck was a brooch of dark lapis lazuli that matched his vest and held his cape closed.

He cut a very impressive figure, dark and imposing even not clad in his usual black. As Sofia approached him she was very aware that neither of them were as they had been the night before. It was impossible now to deny the intense attraction that she felt for him, although it was as imperative as ever that she keep it a secret. Caelum's eyes wandered over her briefly as she stood before him, giving her the faintest flicker of hope that he had noticed the change in her, but he said nothing. He merely held out his arm to her and, when she had taken it in her hand, led her into the ballroom.

*****

Sofia had disappeared. Caelum prowled the edges of the ballroom in vain searching for her. He had only taken his eyes off her for a moment, he would swear to it. He shouldn't have done it, really. He should never have asked her to dance. To this moment he had no idea what had been happening inside his head, and the words had been out before he could stop them.

"As you seem to have no particular inclination to talk to people your own age, you should at least not let the evening be a complete waste," he had sneered.

"What do you suggest then?" she had asked back tartly...no, provocatively.

"I have been told I am a fairly talented dancer, Miss Blake." She had looked at him suspiciously, perhaps not trusting his offer to be serious. "But if you would prefer to keep your feet so firmly planted I suppose I could offer my talents elsewhere..." He had trailed off, letting his eyes linger a bit too long on Caryn. Sofia had followed his gaze and thrust her chin into the air. Caelum had wondered if perhaps he had touched too raw a nerve when Sofia stuck one of her hands out, palm down. Bowing slightly, he had touched his lips to the back of her hand before leading her toward the dance floor.

Sofia had given him a rather strange look at that, perhaps not being quite aware of the traditions such as hand kissing at Connaught festivities. Perhaps, he thought, Hawthorne should endeavor to instruct their few orphan pupils on all of the traditional aspects of Connaught culture rather than merely the academic ones. After all, part of the purpose of having a traditional education was to allow those orphans well suited to it to take their place in Connaught culture. It was, he reflected, perhaps a dereliction of that intent to fail to educate orphans in all aspects of the culture.

Inappropriately the warmth of the girl's body near his own drew his attention back to her. She was carefully not making eye contact, her gaze apparently focused a bit lower, perhaps to his lips. He scowled then, because both the thought of Sofia looking at his mouth and the fact that it had occurred to him were both ridiculous. The girl's body stiffened then and he found her attention drawn upward, appearing to search his face for the source of his displeasure.

The dance had ended with all due propriety and haste, Caelum withdrawing his hands from her as soon as it was polite to do so. Sofia gave him another calculating look before having her attention captured briefly by a young man who had clearly been watching her from the side of the room. He offered her a dance and Caelum had suppressed a sneer when she accepted far more graciously than she had done to his own offer.

Now he was stalking the room, having lost sight of her in the swirling couples almost immediately. Her stark black curls and shimmering pale dress should have stood out among the garish frocks of the younger girls, and at last he spotted her disappearing—apparently alone—out one of the French doors to the balcony beyond. Attempting to ignore his inner voice questioning him on his decision to follow her outside, he saw her brooding in a shadowed corner as far away from the open door as possible. Another couple was deep in conversation in the opposite direction and they ignored him. Moonlight shone down upon her, making her skin and her dress almost luminescent as she slouched against the balcony railing.

"Miss Blake?" he inquired quietly, startling her.

*****

It was a beautiful night. Moonlight bathed the valley that stretched away down the hill upon which the Southumbridge square had been perched. Farmhouses and little clustered settlements dotted the hillside, and the light illuminated each roof. Although it was October it was warm enough on the balcony. No breeze blew to chill Sofia as she stood there, hoping to be left alone. She couldn't shake the feeling of Caelum's hands on her, warm even through the not insubstantial fabric of her dress. Dancing with the other boy had been nothing like dancing with Caelum, which had been like nothing she could have expected.

He had been so graceful. She supposed it was something she had always noticed in the back of her mind. The gentle, precise way he measured ingredients, stirred mixtures, wrote ever so carefully on the blackboard. Yet she hadn't expected it to be there when he took her into his arms, guiding her in wide circles in the ballroom. It had only solidified what she had been feeling, and it was discomfiting to say the least. The other boy had provided a convenient means of escape, although it had thrown her into a whole new set of problems. Comparing the younger man to Caelum was fruitless, but inevitable. The frown that had deepened on Caelum's face as she had walked away was also something she pondered, regardless of how she tried not to.




After the Ball



Her only real escapes would be upstairs—and he would no doubt inquire why she wished to leave the Ball early—or outside. If he even saw her head that direction, he had no reason to follow her. Even there his deep voice followed her, as it did, rumbling from his chest. But when she jumped, turned, he was there.

"Miss Blake?"

"Yes, Professor Elwyn?"

"You seem disturbed. Is anything the matter?"

"Oh, quite. Quite," she laughed mirthlessly.

"Would you care," he asked hesitantly, clearly uncomfortable, "to unburden yourself?"

"With you?" she asked, not bothering to hide her sarcasm. He bristled.

"Obviously," he returned in kind.

Sofia turned back to the view before her. "I shouldn't have come."

"Are you no longer intending to marry?"

"I don't know. It doesn't matter. I've never had even the slightest interest in anyone I've met here."

"The Matching Ball is...commonly believed to be the only means of making a marriage match for those without parents able to do it for them. I will tell you that although many young people have made their match by twenty or twenty-one, it is not uncommon for individuals several years older make matches without the input of their parents. In other words, Miss Blake, if you still desire to marry you need not restrict yourself to those you see before you tonight."

It was rather a long speech from Caelum, and Sofia wondered at the meaning behind it. Out of all her friends, and their older siblings, not one had ever arranged their own marriage. It wasn't done. But she supposed Caelum wouldn't have said it occurred if it didn't. Not that it mattered.

"In all my life," she said quietly, "there has only ever been one...person. But there is no hope of—"

"Miss Blake. There is always hope."

"Even if he is you?"

Caelum did not respond and Sofia turned back to see the most perfect expression of astonishment on his face. If she hadn't been so afraid of his reaction she might have laughed. Before he could stop her she took a swift step toward him and grasped the lapel of his jacket in her hand, pulling him down until their lips met. His were warm and far softer than she'd thought possible, pliable and opening slightly to hers before he jerked away abruptly.

"Especially me, Miss Blake," he said, his voice suddenly cool. "That was amazingly inappropriate. You are not even of age."

"I'll be eighteen next month!" she returned hotly.

"It does not matter."

"I'll be leaving Hawthorne in the spring."

"It does not matter."

"You just said there was always hope."

"Not for me," he said under his breath. "I bid you good evening, Miss Blake. A woman of your advanced age and maturity can surely find her way back to her room."

Caelum turned and stalked back into the ballroom, Sofia hot on his heels.

"No, please wait. You're my escort. You can't leave me here alone! What will they all think of me when they see me alone at the end of the night?"

"Why you would care what any of these people think when, by your own admission, you have no intention of returning in future, I have no idea. Why you believe that I also care is even further beyond me. It is inappropriate in the extreme to be leaving the ballroom together at such an early hour. In fact I believe it would be inappropriate for us to be alone together at any time in the future after the events that have transpired this evening. I will be arranging separate transport to Hawthorne in the morning," he said with a sneer.

"You can't leave me alone for that long journey with just the driver!" she said, shocked. "He could...could..."

"Could what?" Caelum asked. "Ravish you? Seems far more likely in the reverse, don't you think? Perhaps that sort of behavior is what caused Bishop's untimely departure," he said, sarcasm heavy in his voice.

Sofia's heart stuttered at Caelum's cruel words and she found her eyes filling with unwelcome tears. She stared at him for a long moment in silence before turning on her heel and dashing out of the ballroom, heedless of the few curious souls who turned their heads to watch her go.

*****

At three o'clock in the morning, Caelum lay restless in his bed. Watching his young charge go pale as a ghost at his insinuations had not been one of his prouder moments. The truth was that he had been thrown off guard by her sudden advance. In no distant, wicked realm of his imagination would he have dared to dream that any of his students—much less a confident, desirable one—would find him even the remotest bit attractive, would even think of him as a man in his own right. He turned his own words over in his mind and passed the remainder of the night sleeplessly.

As a result he was in a rather foul mood the following morning, snappish with the chaperones working at the State Building to see off all the attendees of the Ball. It was with little effort, but great intention, that he arrived with his bag outside the State Building before Sofia. He had, after all, told her that he would be arranging his own transportation—an idea which he had since reconsidered—and he did not want her taking the carriage and leaving without him.

When the carriage rolled up, he saw Sofia march past him with little more than a brief glance in his direction. He rushed forward and opened the carriage doors for her solicitously, making a tiny bow from the waist to indicate that she should enter. She eyed him, her bosom heaving slightly, fairly trembling from the effort of restraining herself.

"I..." he began, then swallowed convulsively. "I wish to beg your pardon for the grave offense that I—"

"Save it," she interrupted him sharply. Blinking in surprise, he nevertheless inclined his head in acknowledgement and watched her disappear into the carriage. By the time he had loaded his bag and climbed in, Sofia had already taken out her book. Caelum opened his mouth to attempt speaking again, but Sofia lowered her book to glare at him hotly over its top. He sneered at her to hide his discomfort, but closed his mouth again and resigned himself to another silent journey.

*****

*****

November passed without any hint of Sofia's cold demeanor toward Caelum thawing. Or rather her bone-meltingly hot anger chilling. Whenever she entered his classroom she threw him a look of deepest loathing. He thought it ought not to bother him. She was only a student, after all, and their opinions of him were really rather unimportant—particularly those students who would be leaving Hawthorne behind in the spring. And yet he couldn't force himself to stop caring that he had apparently caused her to hate him.

He told himself it was only the guilt. Yes, he did feel horribly about his words to her. They had been unfair and quite rude. But underneath he knew, just knew there was something more to it. He caught himself seeking her out—glancing casually in her direction when she was working intently in his classroom, gazing around him in the hallways in case she was walking near him, and searching the dining halls for just a glimpse of her. It was almost, he thought, as if he had a bit of a schoolboy crush on her, although he realized the very idea was ridiculous.

Even her schoolwork showed the depths of her disgust with him. She had not stopped listening to him intently in class, but rather than using the information he gave them in lectures to support her work in essays, she wrote entire missives pointing out any flaw in his arguments. Once or twice she worked in snippy references to his behavior at the Ball, but in ways that would have been entirely innocent by any other girl. She was taunting him. He could see her hanging on his every word, waiting for him to make a mistake, but it didn't matter if he was perfect in his lecturing because she would still find a way to subtly abuse him in her work.

Soon he was returning her glares when she entered his classroom. How dare she question his authority? How dare she confront him so passively using her homework as a vehicle rather than taking it up with him directly, as the grown woman she claimed to be? Her last essay of the term threw in a completely non-sequitur reference to "great ugly bats"—a not terribly subtle insult to his choice of attire—and he knew he could no longer stand the childish game she was playing. He made no comment, simply wrote "see me after class" at the top of the paper.

At the end of their final class period of the term, Sofia bade her friends goodbye. Caelum could see her jerking her head in his direction and rolling her eyes exaggeratedly, to great gales of laughter from her little friends. Caelum sneered in her direction and she threw him a haughty smirk of her own as she sauntered toward his desk at the front of the room. When the last student had left and the door had closed ominously, leaving the two alone, Caelum stalked around his desk and over to Sofia. She stepped back reflexively, finding herself trapped between a desk and her very angry looking professor.

"Do not think, Miss Blake, that because you are still receiving fair marks on your essays I am not aware of your little game."

"What game would you be referring to, sir?" she asked, derision dripping from every word.

"You know very well what I mean," he said, flaring his overcoat slightly behind him in an imitation of bat wings. One corner of Sofia's mouth quirked up.

"There is nothing you could take to the Headmistress, sir, of that I am quite certain." She was still pretending politeness with her words, but her tone of voice indicated otherwise. Caelum scowled down at her.

"I have tried to apologize—"

"And I have told you that it would be quite inadequate," she replied, a bit shrilly.

"Regardless," he snarled, feeling his heartbeat speed up with the surge of anger in his chest, "you are my student and I will insist on being treated with respect."

"Respectfully, sir, I think you will find that my behavior is quite beyond reproach," she snapped, glaring up at him.

"I will not tolerate it," he growled.

"What are you going to do about it, sir?"

Caelum never could say what made him do it. The girl's sniping at him for six weeks in essays, and then her outright insolence in his face simply made him snap. His posturing and her swaggering retorts had brought them inches away from each other, both breathing rather harshly in the silence of the classroom. The tension was thick. He could do nothing else but grab her, press his lips to hers, and pour all of his frustration into a kiss.

*****

Heat flooded into her core. Her bones had melted. She felt feverish, her skin hot to the touch and her center a slick, sodden mess of desire. His hands—his hands—were gripping her waist, holding her close to his lean body. She had never even suspected that it could feel like this, that the daring kiss on the balcony at the Matching Ball would feel tame, positively chaste, compared to this one. Her mouth opened to him and he took the invitation, his tongue darting in to taste her.

All at once he was sliding his hands to her hips and digging his fingers in to lift her bodily from the floor and onto his desk. He moved in quite close to her and she found herself parting her legs slightly to accommodate him. Her uniform skirt rose up her thighs but Caelum's attention, for the moment, was on the tender, inexperienced lips he had captured. It was true, Sofia had never been one of those girls who had practiced kissing with each other. Nor had she, even in the darkest night in her dormitory, ever seriously considered kissing the bedpost.

But it didn't matter. Caelum made it easy. His fingers tilted her head deftly if he desired it, his lips and tongue showing her the way to move. And he had always been a good teacher—and she an excellent student.

In a momentary burst of passion Caelum pulled her closer so their bodies were pressed together, inch by inch, from chest to hips. Sofia parted her legs instinctively, her uniform skirt forgotten and crushed between them, and felt something quite firm pressed directly into her center. An immediate spark of pleasure raced through her and she groaned into Caelum's mouth. He gave a soft answering sound and his hands—one placed in the center of her lower back and the other cradling her head—tightened reflexively.

He moved his hips back infinitesimally and then forward into her again, her hips arching up to meet his this time. They broke the kiss momentarily to blow out a breath, and Sofia chanced a glance directly into Caelum's eyes. They were dark as ever, the pupils enlarged with his passion, and the expression on his face one of slightly surprised pleasure. Sofia imagined she had much the same expression on her face, but not for quite the same reason. Caelum was no doubt shocked at his audacity, the time and place and person he was carrying on with, while she was simply trying to process all of the new feelings humming within her.

Sofia opened her mouth again as if to speak, but Caelum's lips crashed down upon her once more. His hand on her lower back anchored her as he rocked his hips against her firmly now, in a rhythm. Back and forth, back and forth, as she moaned and whimpered alternately into his mouth. Her hands were lost to her, helplessly gripping the back of his overcoat as he drove his hips into her again and again.

Then something started to happen, something she couldn't quite identify. It was like a burning, a tingling deep within her that wasn't at all unpleasant. Her body was growing hotter, even though it didn't seem possible that it could do so. A slight, but insistent, pressure was growing in her core, as if she was approaching the edge of a very steep precipice and her mind was urging her to throw herself off it with abandon. But it wasn't frightening. Caelum was there, holding her very close, and it seemed like the right thing to do. He would keep her safe.

She had lost track of time, of the movement of her hips against her professor in his classroom where the fire in the fireplace was beginning to abate but the one between them seemed unlikely to go out. Her focus had narrowed down to that small area between her legs, the one she had never thought much about aside from the usual utilitarian reasons, but which was now coated with her arousal and causing her cup to fill, drop by drop, with the pleasure that would soon spill over.

Time stopped completely as she pulled her head away from him, tossing it back to cry out with a noise like nothing she had ever made or even heard as she shuddered bodily in his arms. His hips had stopped their thrusting and were simply grinding deeper and deeper into her center. Waves of pleasure rolled over her and she felt her toes curling in her slippers, her fingers digging into his back, something deep in her core clenching and releasing. When it finally stopped she was out of breath, her heart racing as she panted. She lifted a hand to wipe the light sheen of sweat from her forehead and looked tentatively up at Caelum who, she saw, was actually smiling down at her. Smiling with what she would come to realize was pure masculine pride.

"What," she asked, still panting slightly, "was that?"

*****

What on earth did she mean, what was that? Caelum had just watched one of the most amazing spectacles of feminine pleasure he had ever seen, had ever caused, and the girl herself didn't even seem aware of what had happened. What were they teaching these girls in biology, anyway? Surely by the time a girl came of age she should know...

"What, precisely, do you mean?" he asked.

"That was just...I have never, and I mean never, felt anything like that before." She seemed embarrassed now and Caelum looked away, feeling his own ears grow a bit warm.

"That was...well. That was your...release."

"My...what, um, is that, exactly?"

"Your release, Miss Blake," he said with a tiny huff. "A quite spectacular orgasm, it seemed, which, for the male, accompanies the, erm, ejaculation, and usually heralds the end of the, ah...sex act."

Sofia was silent for a long moment and Caelum felt heat rising to his face, chagrined with his embarrassment after having just brought the girl to an orgasm—her first orgasm—without removing a single piece of clothing.

"They never mentioned that part when they told us where babies come from," she grumbled, and Caelum gave a low chuckle. "Why does it...feel like that?"

"Presumably," he said, stepping unconsciously for a moment back into his professor-lecturer mode, "to help fulfill the biological imperative. As an incentive, if you will."

"Hmm," Sofia intoned. "So you said...an orgasm is the end of—"

"For a male," he interrupted swiftly. "And even then, there are...things."

"What sorts of—"

"Every sort," he said darkly, looking back down at her at last.

"I don't know anything," she murmured.

"You need not know a thing. Other than..." Here he hesitated.

"Than?"

"Whether you would like..."

"Like what?"

"For me," he said slowly, growing uncomfortable again, "to make you a woman."

"I'm already a woman," she said to him, lifting her chin up. Before he could sputter his surprise, she went on, "I came of age three weeks ago, and I'm sure I don't need whatever you've got in there"—here she gestured vaguely to his pants—"to make me a woman. But I do know, I suppose, the, um, the basic mechanics, and I'm quite sure I'd like you to...well, to fuck me now."

Caelum looked down at her, astonished that she had cheeked him and used a word that, he was sure, she had not heard at Hawthorne. Certainly not from him. Not that he didn't use such words, but never in front of the students. Yet the use of that one, tiny, four-letter word enflamed him, and he found his cock returning to firmness faster than he would have thought possible, aching like a steel rod in his trousers. He leaned in to give Sofia a swift kiss, and then turned his attention to lower places.

He slid his fingers around the delicate bones of her ankles and lifted them, placing her feet on the edge of his desk so that her thighs were spread wantonly apart. Her uniform skirt was already crinkled up, but he pushed it all the way up to reveal her to him and the sight made him nearly weak in the knees. Caelum had always thought it was a bit cruel to insist on skirts for the girls' uniforms in the large stone building that, despite the many torches and fireplaces, could get rather drafty and cold. Now, seeing the thinness of the uniform undergarments made him wonder why more of his girls weren't running around the classroom shivering from the cold.

The panties Sofia wore were plain, white cotton, thin and so soaked with her moisture that they were translucent plastered over her sex. Caelum ran the pads of two fingers lightly down the center of her panties and had the distinct pleasure of watching her hips lift to meet his touch and her cheeks grow pink under his gaze. He touched her again, more firmly this time, and saw tiny pearls of moisture rise up through the thin cotton. These he collected on his fingertips and licked clean while she watched, her eyes growing wide and round.

His fingers slid under her bottom to grip the waistband of her panties, and Sofia drew her legs together while he slid the panties, agonizingly slowly, down her legs, before replacing her feet on the edge of his desk. He looked down at her, feeling his cock pulse almost painfully in his pants at the sight of her. On her mound was a light dusting of fine, straight, black hairs, giving way to what looked like a most unusually natural smooth stretch of pale, creamy skin running all the way down to where her juices were beginning to pool on his desk as they dripped slowly from her.

Her sex was of the sort where everything was hidden away, out of sight and secret, even as her arousal caused her to bloom like a flower, until her legs were spread open and exposed to view. She was swollen, dark pink, even the pale outer lips dusted with a fringe of dusky pink, and very, very wet. Wetter in his first encounter with her than any other woman he had been with, so wet that he knew she needed no other preparation. Her pearl was visible, even, small and rounded and begging for his attentions. The rather insistent aching of his own sex was making him rethink his plans to ravish her immediately, however.




After the Ball



In an instant he had pressed her knees together, trapping her sex between her thighs once more and rolling her skirt down her thighs demurely. He stood abruptly, giving her what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

"I need to refresh the fire. It would never do to have someone walking into the room and see you thus."

Sofia flushed deeply and Caelum could see that it had not occurred to her that the door was, of course, unlocked. He turned away, busying himself with the fire and trying to ignore the heaviness in his groin while he thought of what to do. He was, of course, not as young as he once had been, but in his youth he had been able to complete the act four times in an afternoon. So twice today, with the most delicious girl he had yet been with, one nearly half his own age, should not be asking too much. And once...once would certainly not be enough.

The fire roared hot behind him, filling the room with some of the warmth that had seeped away after class had ended. He stalked back to his desk, watching Sofia's eyes widen a bit as he approached. He wondered how to broach the topic. She was a smart girl, and a perceptive one. Honesty would be best, he decided.

"Miss Blake, I mentioned earlier that the male release signaled the end of the sex act, do you remember?"

"Yes, sir," she said, addressing her professor with automatic politeness. His cock swelled further in his trousers at this.

"You asked only one question then, which I shall answer in due time. But first there are other things you should know. The primary aim of the act for a man, as you have no doubt guessed, is naturally his own release. But any man who wishes to have the pleasure of a woman more than once will want to engage in the singularly entertaining enterprise of causing his partner to come to orgasm herself—once or, if he is talented and she is able, as many times as possible before losing control."

Sofia's thighs rubbed together, perhaps unconsciously, beneath her skirt, and the tongue that darted out to moisten her lips told Caelum what sort of effect his words were having on her. He continued.

"Keeping control, however, for a man, can be quite difficult, due to the deep and primal desire he has for painting a woman's womb with his seed as quickly and as many times as he can," he said. Sofia's mouth opened in a little "o" of surprise. "The more appealing the woman, the more enthusiastic, the more inexperienced—not just her youth, you understand, but her lack of...use," he said, a bit embarrassed now, "the harder it is for the man to bring her to orgasm before his own release. Particularly...if it has been a long time since he has last experienced the thing, he will be more eager to simply get on with it. Or rather...quite unable to control himself, however hard he should wish to try. Do you understand?"

"I...I think so," she said, her throat sounding a bit scratchy.

"You are, I think, the pinnacle of man's desire. Right now, just as you are, a man might be completely unable to control himself having you for the first time. But a worthy man will want to bring you as much pleasure as he gets from you."

"You've already—" she started to protest.

"Once," he said, significantly. "So you see the problem. But there is a solution. If a man is brought to orgasm and allowed to recover his desire, his control over his own organ will be vastly better maintained afterward. But both orgasms need not be achieved in the same way. You were asking about...other things. To pleasure a man, any device like a woman's sex will do. Something that...grips."

"Like my hand, sir?"

"It would serve the purpose admirably. And yet even better is one that provides also the moisture that serves to smooth the way."

Sofia blinked up at him, and he could not tell if she had worked it out for herself. He leaned in to kiss her, his tongue tracing the lines of her lips and flicking against the girl's own tongue softly.

"Think, Miss Blake," he said, murmuring against her lips. "If the crude pressure of my trouser-clad organ can bring you to such pleasure, what more could the gentle caresses of my tongue upon your sex do?" He was rewarded with her blush. "Here, come kneel down and I shall show you what to do." Caelum removed his overcoat, folding it neatly into a square and setting it on the floor at his feet. Sofia slid off the desk, leaving behind a small pool of moisture that Caelum, for the moment, chose to ignore. She knelt gingerly on his overcoat and looked up at him waiting for direction, and the very sight caused a small shudder to run through him.

He hardly wished to undress—not because of the chill but because anyone could, indeed, open his door at any moment. This only happened after classes with extreme rarity, but it was a possibility and there would be no hiding what Sofia was doing. She could be expelled, and he would surely be dismissed. But the situation sent a frisson of excitement running through him. He unbuttoned his trousers, exposing the soft white linen of his undergarments, against which his organ could be far better seen pressing at the limits of the fabric. Sofia's eyes widened a bit.

Caelum slid his fingers against the folds of linen, drawing his cock out for the first time in front of a student. Sofia's lips parted unconsciously as she gazed at what was, he supposed, her first look at one in the flesh. Her hair was still pinned tightly against her nape, and Caelum plucked the pins out carelessly one by one to let her hair tumble free down her back. He threaded his fingers through it, cradling the back of the girl's head.

"Go on, touch it," he urged softly.

*****

It was not the appearance of her professor's cock from his unbuttoned trousers that caused Sofia to ponder the ridiculousness of the situation that she found herself in. It was his gentle exhortation to actually reach out and run her fingers over the surface of his organ that made her want to smile. She was kneeling in her chemistry classroom on the second floor of the building, in a room where anyone could come in at any moment, on her very private professor's cherished overcoat, being asked to touch her very private professors very most private part. And he had told her that she was beautiful, and he was touching her most tenderly.

Sofia reached out and took Caelum's cock in her grasp, marveling at the size of it. She gripped him gently at the base of it and saw how it protruded several inches from her fist. The skin was the softest thing she had ever felt, so thin and delicate feeling over the iron-hard stiffness beneath. Above her Caelum was watching her intently. She thought about the few things their biology professor had told them about lovemaking, and realized that she did not need the direction he might give her. She knew what to do.

Sticking out her tongue, she guided him into her mouth directly without relinquishing her hand's grasp on him. The shuddering breath she heard above her was the only sign she needed that she was doing things correctly. She could manage about half of his length easily, coating it in the moisture from her mouth. Her tongue slid down the underside, and she twirled it around the side of him as she retreated. Holding him firmly, she pushed her head back down on him, trying to take a bit more of him into her mouth. Moving slowly and with purpose, she had taken nearly all of him into her mouth.

Finally feeling the tip of him nudge the back of her throat, she swallowed reflexively. For a moment her eyes watered and she felt sure her breathing was restricted. Withdrawing slowly, she swallowed again and felt the momentary panic ebb away.

"Don't push yourself too fast, Miss Blake," he said softly above her. Instead of replying she slid her hand up toward the tip of his cock, marveling in the journey made frictionless by her saliva. Caelum groaned and Sofia repeated the motion, gripping him a bit more tightly. When he didn't complain she stroked him a few more times, faster now, pleased to hear his breath quicken in response.

She replaced her mouth on him, feeling his fingers tighten in her hair. His responses spurred her on, finding enjoyment in pleasuring him. In the gap of his linen drawers she spied his scrotum bobbing slightly with the motions she made. The skin was loose and she wondered if it would be as soft as his cock. Lifting her free hand toward him, she reached into the soft linen and cupped his testicles in her palm. The loose skin tightened slightly as she touched him.

"Miss Blake," Caelum muttered, with some difficulty, "I am going to come." Sofia hadn't heard the word before, but it was obvious what he meant. A spike of pleasure and pride ran through her at his words, but she wasn't quite sure what she was meant to do with the information. What had he said earlier? That the orgasm accompanied, in a male, the ejaculation...and what would she do when that happened? She glanced at Caelum, felt his hands come around to hold her head in place against him. "You swallow it, Miss Blake," he said, answering her unasked question.

Sofia felt that she was no longer quite in control of the situation. Caelum's hands on her head and the forward motion of his hips had taken the place of her own movements, but he was still gentle. He thrust into her mouth a few times before stilling completely. Sofia waited, her fingers tightening convulsively around him in nervous anticipation. Suddenly his cock jerked several times, and she felt her mouth filled with a warm, sticky substance. She breathed tensely through her nose until he had withdrawn from her, rolling his come around on her tongue and tasting it. It wasn't unpleasant, a little bitter but mostly without any strong flavor.

Caelum was drawing her up and kissing her full on the mouth before she could think about it, and she knew he must be able to taste himself on her but he didn't seem to care. He was buttoning his pants back up and drawing his overcoat off the floor, brushing it off. She had a moment to feel disappointed that the moment was over, when a swift sharp knock on the door was followed by the sound of the door opening. Sofia spun around guiltily to see Headmistress Tierney in the doorway.

*****

"Professor Elwyn," the headmistress said, with no small measure of surprise. "Miss Blake. What is she doing here?" she asked him.

"We were merely discussing the term's of Miss Blake's detention, Headmistress," he said, pleased that his voice was not betraying him and that he'd had the presence of mind to kick Sofia's sodden panties underneath his desk at the first sound of fist on wood.

"Detention on the last day of term, Professor?" she asked with lifted brows. "You could be a bit lenient on the girl, don't you think?"

"No," protested Sofia, to the surprise of all three. "I'm afraid I deserve this one."

"Oh?" The headmistress looked even more surprised. "And your offence?"

"Impertinence, ma'am," said Sofia.

"I see. Well, I shall leave you to it then. Professor, if I could have the pleasure of an audience with you before dinner?"

"Certainly, Headmistress."

They waited until the door had closed and enough time had passed for Headmistress Tierney to be well down the hall before even glancing at each other. Both held a slightly guilty expression, but neither seemed like they wanted to part company.

"Impertinence, indeed," Caelum murmured. "If I wanted to punish you, I should now have many more interesting methods than I would use on the other girls." A shudder of suppressed excitement ran through Sofia, even though she had no idea what those punishments might possibly entail. "Oh, yes. In time, we may see. At this moment, however, what I plan to do is...lock the door."

"Sir," Sofia said she watched him cross the room to lock the door, "how long does it take for a man to recover his desire?"

"You still wish to be fucked, then?"

"As soon as possible, sir. Although I wondered if, perhaps, you could demonstrate the efficacy on the female sex of that other, smaller organ you referenced. Just for the sake of scientific observation, of course, sir."

Caelum eyed her with a raised brow. The little vixen was already learning the art of flirtation. He made a small bow and gestured to his desk. Sofia smirked at him and sat back down on the edge of it, neatly avoiding the smudge of now-chilled moisture she had left upon it. She let her legs dangle over the edge in the hopes that Caelum would see fit to remove her skirt, the wool of which was beginning to get slightly scratchy. Caelum prodded the fire once more, tossing another chunk of wood onto it and causing it to roar forth after a moment with another burst of heat.

He eyed her as she sat on the desk, and wondered what she would look like completely nude. He intended to find out. Her slippers were the first things to go, followed by her tall, white socks. Bypassing her skirt, much to her irritation, he then removed her thick cardigan, fully revealing her green woolen vest; long-sleeved, button-down white linen shirt; and the striped tie in Hawthorne colors—forest green, burgundy, and gold. When he wormed his fingers beneath her vest she shivered, pliable in his arms as he pulled it over her head. He was inordinately pleased to see her nipples already hard beneath the linen shirt.

Untying the tie took a moment, and he did not hurry himself. He could tell by her movements beneath him that she was getting impatient, but it was all part of seduction to make her wait for her first time. The fact that she was naked beneath her skirt and, no doubt, still wet and swollen certainly preyed on his mind, but for her to know that he'd had the opportunity to ravish her and refrained to truly pleasure her would be a memory she would likely never forget. He slid the tie slowly from around her collar, trailing the pointed tip of it over her exposed thigh before setting it aside.

The buttons of her shirt were dispatched one by one, with a lengthy pause between each for Caelum to press his lips heatedly against the exposed skin. When he drew aside the shirt and slid it off her arms he was captivated by the appearance of her brassiere—a simple one of the same thin, white cotton that her panties were made of. It was so thin that the shadow of her areola showed through it and the slightest touch of his fingertips upon them made them tighten and press into the fabric. He moved his lips over her left nipple and blew warm air over it. Sofia shivered and gave a little moan. He kissed it, then took it between his teeth and pressed down lightly. "Oh!" gasped Sofia, before he repeated it on her right nipple.

Dispatching the brassiere took only a moment more and Caelum found he could not wait any longer to see the perfect globes that were Sofia's breasts. Perfectly pale and not at all freckled, with areola and nipples the same dusky pink that her swollen sex was colored. They were about the size of apples and created within him the same desire to bite and savor. He leaned in towards her, letting his tongue roam over her breasts. The soft skin brushed his cheeks as he made her moan and writhe beneath him. When her areola had puckered and her nipples were as hard as he could make them, he at last let his tongue travel down her flat stomach to her navel. Dipping into it briefly, he hooked his fingers into her skirt.

Down he slid it, an inch at a time, until it dropped freely from her knees to the floor. He noticed as he did so that she had not shaved her legs, perhaps had never done so. The hair there was baby fine, though it was dark, and did not mar his enjoyment of her firm young flesh in the slightest. As he let his eyes wander back up her thighs he noticed the hairs there were lighter, golden to match the few hairs that sprinkled over her lower stomach. His tongue licked a soft line down her stomach and over her mound, ruffling the fine black hairs there. He lifted her feet back to the edge of his desk and observed her sex again.

It was just as it had been before, full and inviting and very obviously wet. His cock gave a noticeable pulse in his trousers, and he was pleased to feel it awakening already. The moisture from her sex was painted on her inner thighs and he ached to taste it. He pressed a chaste kiss to her inner knee before letting his mouth roam up her inner thigh. At last he had reached the line of moisture and he ran his tongue over it greedily, savoring the sweet and tangy of flavor of Sofia. He had been intending to spend more time licking and teasing her inner thighs, but the heat he felt emanating from her and the soft scent of her arousal were inviting him to go directly to the source.

He placed his tongue just at her entrance, where his cock would surely be poised soon and swept it upward in one long motion, stopping just short of the place where her pearl jutted outward temptingly. A soft girlish sigh above him seduced him even more as he rolled his tongue around in his mouth to savor the taste of her. He swallowed and went back for another taste. Keeping away from her pearl he nevertheless was making her whimper softly, and he smiled to himself. If she thought this was how it was supposed to be, how surprised she would be when he finally stopped teasing her.

A loud cry rewarded him when he at last swirled his tongue around the vaunted spot, taking her into his mouth and suckling her. She was writhing beneath him and he wanted nothing more than to pierce her sex with his fingers, to feel the evidence of her ultimate pleasure when it came. But there would be time for that, and he knew his cock would be the first part of him to penetrate her. It was already hard as iron once more and ready to be put to service. Caelum gripped Sofia's hips firmly and held her against the desk as he flicked his tongue rapidly over her pearl. She was moaning quite incoherently now and her hips were trying to buck up beneath him.

"Pr-pr-pr..." she began before letting out a wail as she shuddered in release. Caelum lightened the pressure of his tongue on her, licking her quite softly as she came down. Her chest was heaving with the effort of breathing and Caelum stood abruptly, struggling with the buttons on his trousers.

"Take off your tunic," she murmured.

Caelum obliged her, willing his fingers to stop trembling long enough to unbutton the several dozen buttons that ran down the front of his tunic. He slid the tunic off his arms, revealing his soft white shirt—more buttons—encased in a black silk vest. Sofia eyed him and Caelum's cock gave a lurch in his trousers. In a minute it was out and poised in position at her entrance. She was sprawled out before him on his desk, her arms working to hold her upright. She was still suffering the aftershocks of her orgasm, as evidenced by the occasional trembling of her limbs.

"Miss Blake," Caelum said softly, as much to tease himself with the delay as because he really wanted to know, "have you ever been with a man before?"

Sofia gaped at him. "Of course not."

"Because I feel I should inform you that virginity is a rather prized asset for a young woman intending to arrange her own marriage."

"And you think that now is a good time to tell me this?" she asked incredulously, letting her eyes sweep over the both of them.

"Well..."

"Do it," she said, just before her head fell back as she was taken captive by another aftershock and apparently a rather strong one. Her body quivered and Caelum took that moment to slide inside her in one smooth motion, one hand seeking purchase on her hip. The other slid over her slick folds to tease her still sensitive pearl. Sofia cried out as the pain folded before the intense pleasure of the strongest orgasm she had yet experienced, her sex contracting violently on the intruder. Caelum was in heaven, having felt the girl's maidenhood break upon the head of his cock as it slid home to the tightest cleft his organ had ever plumbed. Then to have it begin contracting at once filled him both with pride and the intense urge to spill his seed immediately despite having just done so a short time ago.




After the Ball



Caelum gave her little time to recover. He withdrew his cock from her and immediately drove it back into her again and again. His fingers never ceased their manipulation of her, and he felt her moisture literally dripping out of her onto his desktop unceasingly. The sound of their coupling was obscene and it drove him on to fuck her harder. Sofia was screaming, and he knew it but he didn't care. He loved it. He was murmuring in her ear, things he would later forget having told her although she would remember every word. At last it sunk into his pleasure-addled brain that anyone could hear Sofia.

He covered her mouth with his own, swallowing her helpless cries of pleasure and giving her a few of his own as he drove into her. When he had judged that she was no longer in the throes of orgasm and was capable of holding her tongue he withdrew his lips from hers. He bit down on her lower lip and nipped savagely along her collarbone. When his tongue reached her nipple she cried out again and he seized the advantage, rolling one nipple in his mouth and other between two fingers until she was breathing too rapidly in an attempt to stave off her pleasure once more.

"Please, please," she panted, "I don't think I can come again." Hearing her say the words spurred him on and he pinched both of her nipples firmly between his thumbs and forefingers while he kissed her again.

"That only means you have one more inside you. And once you go," he gasped, "I shall follow and fill you with my seed."

"Oh, but," she whimpered, "you'll get me with child."

He growled, showing her his primal pleasure with the idea, but said only, "Wrong time of the month."

"But how can you—"

Caelum silenced her by pushing up onto the desk with her, changing the angle of his thrusts so that his hips ground into hers. The sharp pressure of him against her built inside her so fast that he could see the explosion coming. A droplet of sweat fell from his forehead onto her and he kissed her just before her body went rigid. His cock was squeezed by contractions so hard they were almost painful and Sofia jerked her head away to take a deep breath followed by a long, ragged moan.

"Fuck me!" she exploded and Caelum's final threads of control snapped. With Sofia crying out in his ear, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes onto his desk, he gave three quick thrusts and buried his cock as deeply in her as he could go. He gave several hoarse cries as he emptied himself into her, his heart hammering so hard he felt it would burst from his chest. At last he collapsed onto the desk beside Sofia, running his hand lazily over her damp skin. Neither of them spoke even one word for a long time.

At last he got up, found that his knees could support him, and turned on the tap of one of the lab sinks. Once the water had warmed he dampened a thick cloth and squeezed it nearly dry. With this he cleaned himself and Sofia as well as he was able. He dressed her tenderly, taking care not to touch her too much in any of the places where she was still quite sensitive. Her panties went into the pocket of her satchel, to be laundered later. She wasn't terribly thrilled about the idea of spending dinner and the rest of the evening without undergarments, but Caelum assured her that he found it exciting and would be thinking about it.

"Professor Elwyn, sir, I wonder if...I don't suppose anyone would believe me if I had detention too often."

"Miss Blake, we will find a way to satisfy our prurient urges, I assure you." He had his hands on her shoulders, looking down at her with a tender smile, when he heard a sharp knock on the door. Before he could take more than two steps toward the door to unlock it, the lock clicked and the door opened. It was again the headmistress, and Caelum could see her taking in the sight of the two. Sofia's hair was unpinned and quite mussed, her face flushed and still looking quite pleased. Caelum was now missing both his overcoat and his tunic, without which he was never seen around the academy.

"I will see both of you in my office. Immediately."

Without waiting for an answer, Headmistress Tierney stalked off down the hallway. Sofia looked stricken, but hung her head and followed. Caelum wondered, as he buttoned himself back into his tunic, who they would find to replace him for the spring term, and whether he could possibly get an appointment at all now. He was still lightheaded with the pleasure of his student when he closed the door behind him and followed after them.



After the Ball Is Over



My wife Marcie works in a distribution center warehouse. Most of the time she is in the small, air conditioned office of the warehouse where she and her boss maintain inventory and handle problems with retail orders, but several times a day she goes into the warehouse, the only woman out there among 75 or so muscle-bound grunts who handle the physical stock.

Once when she was out in a remote part of the warehouse, Greg, one of the warehouse staff, grabbed hold of her from behind and put his hand over her mouth. She tried to scream for help but it was no good: she could barely breathe with his hand clamped over her mouth. From behind her, he pushed her down onto a pallet piled with hundred pound bags of organic barley. With his hand still over her mouth and the weight of this body holding her down, he used his free hand to push up her dress and pull down her panties. He managed to work his stiffy into her unwilling slit and went at it with no concern for her feelings, obsessed exclusively with relieving his sexual tension. In searing pain and deeply afraid, Marcie struggled under his weight and continued trying in vain to scream, until she realized that at that point relaxing and letting him have his way was the best course. In fact, she confessed to me later, it actually began to feel nice after she relaxed a bit. She was just about to have an orgasm herself when Greg began to buck and grunt and fill her with his sticky semen. Gasping and drooling on her neck, he collapsed on her back and relaxed his grip on her mouth, totally spent by his efforts between my wife's legs. They were both still breathing hard from the exertion when he apologized and said he was ashamed of what he just did. He begged her to forgive him and not to tell anyone about it or he would certainly lose his job.

Marcie agreed to keep his secret but insisted it must never happen again since she was married and loved her husband. She told him that the strength of her marriage was the most important thing in the world to her. As he was sheepishly stuffing his junk back in his boxers and zipping up his jeans, he said he would promise anything if she would just not get him fired. He expressed his shame and apologies over and over. 

Later she confided to me that she thought he was cute when he apologized. All afternoon, she could smell his sweat and the aroma of barley on her body and clothes, and she found it so oddly exciting that she could barely concentrate on her work.

That night before dinner, I took her in my arms in the kitchen as I usually do, kissed her lips and neck, enjoyed the smell of her hair and told her how much I love her. In her usual maternal way she accepted my worship and returned my kisses until I was surprised to see she was sobbing gently in my arms. Needless to say, I was very concerned. I encouraged her to talk about whatever was on her mind, reminding her that when we got married we promised to share everything, every feeling, every thought, and never keep anything to ourselves. 

Eventually she told me the whole story of what had happened in the warehouse including how she had become a little aroused toward the end of their copulation. Of course, we were both very upset about it, but sharing feelings and talking it out helped a lot, and I noticed that night that our lovemaking was especially fierce and satisfying, like there was a strong new bond between us, like we had both been initiated by the event of that day . . . and we had both found it more than a little stimulating.

Now you have to understand that I feel toward Marcie almost like she is my sister as well as my wife. I know that she is an independent person and I try not to be jealous since I know that she - like me - is completely committed to our marriage. Nevertheless, I could feel the green-eyed monster stirring inside me.

Over the course of the next few weeks she retold the story of her exciting new experience a hundred times, each time adding one or two more details as she recalled them. I encouraged her in these retellings so that she would not have trauma due to repressed emotions and so her time with Greg would not grow into an obstacle in our relationship. We talked out our feelings at great length and found that discussing it led often to especially soulful lovemaking sessions. I felt an undeniable vigor that I hadn't experienced since I was seventeen.

At work, Greg had started being extra courteous and attentive to Marcie. Whenever she needed something from the warehouse, he was always there, eager to please her, probably out of gratitude to her for not ratting to management about how bad a boy he was. After a couple months of healing and with my permission, she even gave Greg a couple more tastes in secluded parts of the warehouse, for which he was very grateful.

She would always tell me about these trysts with her rapist-turned-slave and she would go into the most graphic detail possible in response to my pumping her with questions. After a few months and in response to my coaxing, she started wearing tight fitting pants and miniskirts to work. We made several shopping trips together to buy her "special" items to wear to work. I remember being very excited as I suggested a pushup bra and clinging sweater that revealed her 36C's almost down to her brown nipples. She picked out a neon pink thong and black miniskirt. The miniskirt was so short that if she bent over a low filing cabinet drawer, an observer behind her had an excellent chance of seeing heaven.

Her boss in the office started taking notice of her, a fact that surprised her since he was getting on in years, had a big beer belly and a couple daughters almost her age. At first he just treated her very considerately and made her nice compliments, but after a while the compliments became more out of line and eventually he started to just grope at her ass or breasts. She scolded him and threatened him with a harassment suit if he didn't stop touching her. He mostly stopped groping her after that.

When she told me about his overtures, I felt a little sorry for the avuncular old guy. I'd seen him once at a company picnic in his swimming trunks with his hairy chest exposed and his big, swarthy belly hanging over the waist band. I became obsessed with the thought of this disgusting old lech ogling Marcie, climbing on top of her and covering her sweet, soft skin with his sweaty, fury body, mounting her and pushing himself up between her legs.

I encouraged her to yield to his urgings, but she never would.

Now that my darling wife was dressing like a whore at work almost every day and being treated as such by a couple of the men there, we started to talk about taking it to the next level. She told Greg that she had shared all her antics with me and that I was on board for more. Greg got into the spirit of things. He offered to collect $100 per head from some of the other guys in the warehouse for the right to gangbang her. Greg said he would keep 20% of the money as her manager but she could have the rest. By now he knew how responsive she was and knew every inch of her body almost as well as I did, and it was apparent that he had been sharing some of his knowledge with co-workers.

Marcie told Greg that she would have to get my permission before going ahead with this plan but gave him a blowjob as a thank you for coming up with the idea. 

Marcie was very interested in the money since it would really help us pay off some of our debts. Greg's proposal was a lot more outrageous than anything I had bargained for, but the extra money would be great. Somehow it didn't seem right to collect money for something that she would probably have done for free anyway, but I kind of liked that getting paid for it made it seem a lot dirtier. 

Eventually, Marcie talked me into proceeding with Greg's proposition. After all, it was her pussy and she was the one who would actually have to do it. A night was set and one of the guys offered his living room for the event. Marcie wouldn't tell me how much she was going to get paid for this night, but she said it was a lot. She also hinted that she might use some of the money for a little weekend getaway for her and Greg, maybe even include me if Greg agreed. I was starting to think this had gotten out of control, but she assured me repeatedly that I was her main man, that she loved me more than anything, and that this was all making our marriage stronger than ever.

That night I helped Marcie dress for her big night out. I was in an advanced state of nervous excitement as we debated which panties she would wear that night. My hands trembled as I held up a purple panty with a string waistband covered with black fringe, a front that barely covered anything, and a back that covered nothing. I was so keyed up that I alternated between crying and trying to hump her. I was a blubbering idiot at this point but she reassured me when I was crying and held me off when I tried to rub my crotch against her. She said she wanted to be clean for her fan club tonight so I couldn't have her beforehand. 

As agreed, Greg came to pick her up at 8:00. She invited him in to meet me and have a drink. He was shorter than I expected him to be and more muscular. He was dressed quite well with country club casual slacks and a sophisticated print on his silk unhemmed shirt. I also noticed he was wearing a scent, a very masculine scent, something I never wore, but it seemed to turn Marcie on.

Greg said he had a special gift to show his appreciation for this chance to make some extra money. Marcie loves gifts and I could see how excited she was as she ripped off the elaborate ribbon and bow. Inside was a pair of red shoes with heels that must have been five inches high. Greg told her they were called "hooker heels." He added that he thought they were appropriate since tonight she would in essence become a prostitute, at least for one night. At first Marcie looked a little shocked at the term "prostitute" being applied to her. Greg could see that he had offended her and started to apologize but when she realized it was true, she just laughed it off. Since she doesn't wear heels very often, she practiced walking around the house as best she could, and both Greg and I commented on how the shoes accentuated her ass with every step. 

Here I was commenting on my wife's ass with a man who knew her intimately in a way that I never would. He looked to be at least ten years younger than me and must have thought that she was a whore or a nymphomaniac. He probably saw Marcie as an instrument of his gratification rather than as the loyal and affectionate mate that I knew her to be. I couldn't imagine what he thought of me, but we were all excited and he seemed to be enjoying the moment as much as she was. 

There was a lump in my throat as we nursed our drinks and made small talk, all the while Marcie clinging to Greg on the sofa, wearing a big smile, and staring straight into my eyes which were riveted on her and the low cut, slinky white dress she had picked out. You could easily see her matching red bra and G-string beneath it. Greg pretended not to care about her touching him. I guess he was feeling more like her business manager or pimp than her lover. After all, he was making a good deal of money on this event. Or maybe he was just self-conscious with me present.

Much to my embarrassment, Marcie told him how she had refused to let me fuck her before tonight's events. She also told him that she didn't want him to take part in the festivities. He was to do no more than watch since she needed a cool headed male to take care of her in case she needed help. After all, she said, she might need him to stop any male brutality fantasies from being perpetrated on her. And she darn sure didn't want him joining in with the guy! She said there was only one way she knew to cool off a man and turn him into a stony bodyguard. Then she started to unbuckle his belt right there in front of me in our own living room on the sofa on which we still owed a couple hundred dollars.

I couldn't believe it but she made him stand up, drop his pants and shorts, and hike up his shirt so she could kneel and inspect his meat. Of course, he wasn't erect. He was as surprised by this development as I was, but I could see Marcie's logic. It was prudent to have a eunuch as bodyguard, so I could hardly object. Clearly she had decided that even if she couldn't cut off his business, she could still take preemptive measures to disarm him! 

Much to my alarm, he started getting hard in her mouth very quickly. The fact that she had told me in exquisite detail about all the couplings she and Greg had enjoyed in the warehouse didn't do much to allay my shock and disgust at actually seeing her do it. It was like I was hypnotized seeing his cock respond to her pretty mouth and lips. Time seemed to slow way down, and even now I can still see every second of the fellatio in my memory. My eyes must have been as big as saucers while I watched my wife play with his scrotum, take his growing dick into her mouth, and rub it all over her face until it got fully erect in her hands. She turned to me with a lascivious grin on her mouth, her cheeks glistening with his pre-cum. 

"You don't mind, do you, darling?"

My stomach was churning and my mouth was too dry to talk so I said nothing as I watched my beloved wife perform the magic she had done on me hundreds of times, but do it now to temporarily relieve another man of his sex drive for a few hours. From the look in her eyes when she looked my way, I suspected also wanted to see if I could handle a private peep starring her. I wondered to what extent she was enjoying it and to what extent she was just performing a physical function. 

She milked his balls with her fingers as she had so many times milked mine when she wanted to speed up my ejaculation. His obscenely thick cock distorted her full lips and wonderfully expressive mouth as it slid against the substitute vagina she was creating for him with her tongue and mouth. Sometimes I could see the big outline of his dick bulging from inside her shiny cheek as his excitement grew and he pushed sideways against her cheek as well as straight toward her throat.

After a couple minutes Greg seemed to forget how awkward the situation was and started to buck and pump his rod deep into her throat. Marcie gagged at this rough usage, but she continued to milk his balls urging him to a prompt orgasm. Marcie's eyes were starting to water as she gagged and finally he grabbed her head and held it as he furiously deep throated her, so overcome by his passion that I worried he would hurt her. He was holding her head and thrusting into her throat like it was cunt.

Fortunately, in less than a minute his rough thrusting ended with him coming in spasms deep inside her throat as he held her head tight against his belly. He bellowed, "Oh, yes, yes." as his hips tucked into her mouth and his back curved like he was trying to wrap himself around her head while the muscles of his buttocks shivered and contracted with involuntary paroxysms. I could see that she wasn't able to breathe, but after a bit he released her head and pulled out his now shrinking penis. 

Marcie was gasping for air, but between the gasps she looked up into Greg's eyes and with a slutty smile said, "Gee, baby, you sure know how to show a girl a good time!" That broke some of the tension a little and we all laughed.

Honestly, I couldn't tell if she was being serious or ironic. After she caught her breath again, she got up off the floor and slipped into her new hooker heels. Greg was completely dazed by this experience but managed to start pulling his pants up and tucking in his shirt. Marcie came over to me, and took my hands in hers. The two of us stood there looking directly into each other's eyes. As physically close as we were, I realized that I didn't really know this woman at all. She seemed to take pleasure in things I had never even thought about, much less done with her.

My desire to possess her physically was greater than it had ever been as she put her arms around me and gave me a long, passionate kiss that was wet and slippery with Greg's strong smelling semen. That smell soon turned my desire to disgust and I decided that I would not let her go, but she broke my embrace before I could say anything. She laughed at the stunned look on my face, and put her arm around Greg. 

Then she gave Greg a peck on the mouth and said, "Well, lover, are you ready for our big date night? As they say, it's show time." 

Greg promised me that she would be safe, that he wouldn't let the men hurt her and that he would have her home before dawn. Obviously at a loss for words, he said it was a pleasure meeting me and shook my hand. There was nothing I could say at this point. Then they walked out the door with Marcie's arms tightly around his slim waist and her head on his shoulder. The looked like a couple kids going on their first date. I sure hoped the neighbors weren't watching! 

My last view of her that night was of her hips' exaggerated undulations in those new hooker heels. She could barely walk in them and looked like a little girl trying on her mother's high heels. She was so cute I couldn't believe I was letting her do this.

It was a long night for me the next few hours. I realized after they drove away that I didn't even know where she was going to be. Anything could happen to her and I might not know for days. I was pretty much fully erect the whole night. I tried not to touch myself because I didn't want her to come home and find me impotent because I had spent my seed by myself alone. Every inch of my body felt like a sex organ. After a while I stripped out of my clothes and tried to watch TV wearing a pair of neon orange spandex posing briefs that Marcie had given me for my last birthday. The front of the posing briefs was getting soaked with my pre-cum. The feel of my enormous cock stretching against the spandex was more than I could take and I had to touch myself through the thin material, lightly dragging my shaking fingers along the wet outline of my manhood. Well, you can imagine how that played out. As excited as I was, I gave in and with a few light touches ejaculated all over me, the sofa, and the coffee table. Exhausted with the excitement and release, I fell asleep there on the sofa with my limp dick and balls hanging out of the posing briefs.

I woke up the instant I heard Marcie fumbling with the lock on the front door. I went over and let her in. She was hardly in a condition to negotiate the key and lock. It was about 3:00 am and her dress was torn in several places, her hair was matted (I supposed with dry cum), and she looked ready to collapse. She smelled like a men's locker room. 

But she was not really hurt, thank God! Lying in my arms, she told me as much as she could remember of the evening's activities. She wasn't really sure how many men were there . . . or maybe she was just unwilling to tell me. She said there was talk about doing it again someday, but hiring a prostitute to work as a fluffer so that the men could mostly just ejaculate with, on, or in my wife. "At this point," she chuckled while gazing into my eyes and touching my hair and cheek, "I never want to have sex again. I've had enough for the rest of my life." 

As you can imagine, I did not share her surfeit at this point. Quite the opposite, I was very excited after hearing about her adventures. I was fully, almost painfully erect again and started to kiss and pet her. She pulled away and said "Please, honey, I love you but I've just had so many men in me tonight that the last thing I want is one more man climbing on top of me, pawing me and chafing my pussy even more. Can we put it off till tomorrow night?"

I begged, "You can't leave me like this. I've been patiently waiting for you for six hours and I am so horny I won't be able to sleep or do anything until I can pop my load and fall asleep in your arms. All I can think about is you with those guys working themselves out all over you."




After the Ball Is Over



"Oh, I'm so sorry, baby, but I am totally fucked out, my mouth, my pussy, and my ass. Hell, one of them came between my breasts shooting me in the face and bruising my boobs." She looked down at her stunningly ample breasts touching them as she examined them the way she does when she is checking them out without a mirror. She's so cute when she does that. She was driving me crazy.

"OK, Marcie, how about if I lube up my dick and put it in your soaking pussy for just 2 strokes. I'll be gentle: you'll hardly feel it. Just so I can say I was inside you today. Don't make me the only man who hasn't had his way with you tonight. Just 2 strokes in your cunt, then I'll take it out and jack off on you to relieve myself. Can I do that?"

She took pity on me. I could see how moved she was by my gesture of letting her have this incredible night of excess and she really wanted to show her gratitude even if there wasn't an ounce of sexual feeling left in her limp, sore, tired body. She had given her all to please each of her fuck buddy gentlemen, and there just wasn't anything left for me.

"Darling, you are so sweet and patient. I'll let you be the last man in my pussy tonight for two symbolic strokes, but first please lick my clit a little just to make sure my vagina isn't too dry. Be gentle, my love, my clit is very tender now and my breasts too."

In a flash I had my drooling mouth on her clit and labia, massaging them very slowly and softly. Her breathing picked up and became deeper. 

She stroked my hair and said, "Good, just like that, after you get me wet you can stroke me twice and fire your load off on my tummy while I watch you and tell you how disgusting you are." 

I could smell something very different about her snatch tonight. I suppose it was the smell of however many men had visited this mecca earlier. She began to encourage me and moan a little. In a husky, almost alien voice she said, "That's it my love. Your tongue is so gentle compared with all those one-eyed sausages that were down there tonight. You are such a considerate lover. Ooh, oohhhh." Now she was grabbing my hair and pushing me down between her legs. "Oh, yes, yes, yes, eat my pussy pie. Eat it now you shit." With that she started groaning, then wailing, then gasping for breath and ending with a crescendo of short high screams. I couldn't believe how quickly she responded to my loving her and how dramatically. I guess it was because she was so warmed up.

I climbed on top of her and grabbed her torso in my arms, my hard cock pressing on her mons pubis and belly. "Oh, my darling," I whispered in her ear. "Can I enter you now? Can I fuck you until I come in your cum drenched slit?"

She whimpered, almost crying, and pounding my chest with her fists. "No, no, you bad boy. You made me come again and now I am even more sore." Then her tone changed to irritation. "Get up off me and off the bed." 

I did as she commanded. She took me by the cock and led me in front of the full length mirror in the bedroom. By the light coming from the other room, I could see our reflection as she stood in front of me and spread her legs a bit. She knows how I get off watching us in the mirror. "I said you could go two strokes in my pussy and I will keep my word. Come over here." I stepped up till I was so close her nipples were rubbing on my chest.

Under my breath, in desperation, I asked, "Now what."

She reached down between us where my erection was like a Nazi soldier standing at attention. Needless to say my dick was very slippery and it felt fabulous when she gave it a couple passes with her fisted hands. I was tempted to come in her hands when I remember how quickly her first man of the night, Greg, had come in her mouth. I started desperately kissing her cheeks, her eyelids, her ears, her slimy mouth. 

"I think you're ready, lover." She said and laughed. The she fiddled between her legs and with her fingers opened up her very loose pussy. While she held her pussy lips open with one hand, she used the other hand to gently ease my eager cock between her legs and into her gash. 

It was something I'd never felt before. She was so stretched out and wet and so relaxed in there that it was like sticking my prick in a vast hot tub of baby oil. There was no friction to speak of but a feeling of incredible depth and warmth in this huge womanly cavern. It was the sexiest physical sensation I had ever had and on a penis that was more sensitive than it had ever been. It was like her well-used pussy was saying to me, "Come on in and join the party even if you are a little late." I suddenly recalled that expression: How does it go? "When you have sex with someone you are having sex with everyone else they have ever had sex with." 

I knew I had promised only 2 strokes in her quim, but as soon as I felt that slobbered pussy I began to pump as fast as I could, pushing into the incredible feeling of liquid poontang, a woman who was every woman, a goddess of sexual indulgence. It was no longer just my wife that I was fucking, but every woman I had ever had and every man she had ever had. I was panting and groaning and drooling as I stuck it up into her tropical ocean. Suddenly she pulled me out and said, "Okay, Charlie, that's more than two strokes." She crossed her legs to keep me from getting back between them. It didn't matter at this point because I was out of control and involuntarily coming and coming, squirting my jizz all over her belly and thighs. 

It was a few days before her soreness went away, but our lovemaking has been extraordinary since then and we are looking forward to an intimate cruise with Greg. I have come to realize that I am about the luckiest man alive. With her extra-marital experience, she is bringing new skills into our own bed, and she has no end of erotic tales with which to entertain me.



After the Ball



She was naked except for panties and bras. 

Jodi knew she had gone too far. Never suspecting that Roland could be sexually aroused by her she now knew otherwise.

As his hands sought for the clip of her bras she cried out, "No darling...no...don't we can't..."

Too late, the bras joined the dress on the floor.

"You wanted to know what happens after the ball, you wanted a goodnight kiss, so now you can find out what else happens."

He had maneuvered to the divan and pushed her down on it.

"No, we can't Roland, please stop this...I'm you mother..."

"And my girl for the evening...Jodi."

Jodi was frightened, but at the same time fascinated, rather like the rabbit that is supposed to be frozen into immobility by the snake. She was lubricating profusely, the crotch of her panties soaked and her inner thighs had become wet. Her breasts were exposed, and her firm extended nipples revealed her state of arousal.

Roland released her for a few moments in order to strip himself. This might have been a chance for Jodi to escape, but she made no such move. She had no doubts about what she wanted, and when Roland's penis was revealed, standing up long and hard her desire was reinforced.

"This is what happens after the ball," he said, his voice low and hoarse.

He drew off her panties, and coming beside her kissed her fiercely, his hands fondling her breasts.

Jodi's fear and fascination gave rise to contradictory responses to what Roland was doing to her. As his mouth closed over one of her nipples she made no physical resistance, but at the same time she pleaded with him to stop. 

It was as if intellectually she knew this must not be happening, but her long deprived body was making irresistible demands that would not be denied.

Her protests and pleadings went on. "Stop darling...please don't do this to me...we can't...you know we can't...your father might..."

"No he won't," Roland responded, releasing her nipple. "You told me he's at a weekend teacher's seminar."

His fingers began to explore her vagina and clitoris and for a while Jodi's protests were silenced.

He parted her legs and kneeling on the floor before her he started to lick and suck her genitals. 

Jodi was beside herself with lust and as he brought her to orgasm all the frustrations of the past found release. She clutched his head to her crying out, "Don't stop...don't stop...."

Relentless waves of orgasmic tremors shook her as she screamed the pain and ecstasy of her climax.

When she had passed over the pinnacle of her climax Roland, the lower part of his face soaked with her fluid, came over her, the head of his penis probing for the entrance to her vagina.

Jodi commenced her pleading again; "No...don't...you might make me pregnant...please darling..."

Roland was unmoved by her cries, in fact they only served to spur him on. She felt him slide into her and then thrust to her depths. She wanted him...oh God how she wanted him...but the consequences...

Quickly Roland was on the brink of ejaculation. Jodi felt his lunges into her become more imperative and she cried out, "Don't darling...don't come in me...please don't...pull out...oh please don't..."

He gave a powerful thrust and released his sperm into her, as he did her cries changed, "Yes...yes...in me...I want it...in me...oh my love...my love..."

It was over; his seed was mingled with her juices. Would one of those tiny sperms reach its goal and begin the creative process? 

As Jodi lay back in post-coital peace with Roland's penis still inside her, she felt that she no longer cared if the sperm found its target, then with a sudden jolt she realized that she did care, she wanted it to find the target. 

She hadn't wanted Randall to have the vasectomy, she had wanted more children and it wasn't too late. 

Roland withdrew from her, giving a little gasp as the head of his nerve sensitive penis exited. 

"That's what happens after the ball," he whispered.

Jodi kissed him softly on the lips and said, "Only once?"

Roland grinned, "All night if she's the right girl."

"Am I the right girl?"

"Shall we go to bed and find out?"

That night they discovered that she was the right girl and that he was the right boy. And later they also discovered that at some stage one of the sperms had found the target. 

Jodi did leave Randall and she did take a lover, his name was Roland, and as far as I know they are still together, but now there are three of them, they have a child called Janet.

As for Randall, the good looks and charm that had coaxed a young Jodi onto the back seat of his car had faded. Over the years other female students had occupied that seat and his vasectomy had served him well. He had got away with it for years, but at last one young lady complained of his attempted seduction. 

As people say, the chickens came home to roost. When the young lady's complaint became public knowledge there were a whole host of revelations. Randall's teaching career was over, and if he still exercises his pedagogic skills, then it is with the inmates of the jail. 

He will be exercising those skills among the inmates for a long time yet. 



After The Ballet



The time on the desk clock made me grimace all over again. The ticket for the opening night of a new ballet was burning a hole in my pocket but the legal brief on the desk took precedence. It was a familiar dilemma.

I joined this small firm directly out of law school and in five years I have moved up to take a slot as a partner – something damn near unheard of in this city. Attorneys are a dime a dozen and business law attracts every red-blooded greedhead from every corner of the globe. I like the money as well to be sure, but I like the work and I get a big zing out of the chase, the fight and the payoff at the end – I like the blood. Neither the smartest nor the best pedigreed, my great pleasure in this work has brought this success. My clients pay me to rip the rose colored glasses off of people's faces and smash the lenses under my heels. I am paid to be a bastard at times, and I am honest enough to say I really enjoy it.

But I have paid a price. I turned 30 a few months ago; I am still single and without prospects. My outlets are the gym in the wee hours of the morning and the arts in the evening. My parents raised me with the arts and I am on the donor list for the ballet and the symphony. Even bastards can have good taste. On any given night while my partners are discovering elegantly prepared plates at the starred restaurant of the moment after work, I am chowing down on fried slop while some young pianist tries to convince me that his jazz riffs are toe tapping unforgettable. I don't seem to fit into either the legal world or the arts world entirely and my life inside and outside of work is kind of schizophrenic.

Finishing up my work I dumped it on the para-legal's desk for proof checking and dashed off the recital hall. I sat down just as intermission came to a close and watched dancers twirl around the stage. Having missed two-thirds of the performance I was clueless and my stomach's growls of hunger added to the disappointment. It must have been a great performance because I had to stand through two standing ovations. However, opening night does come with a late night party/buffet for donors and patrons, those with real money, and I made my way upstairs.

I piled my plate high with meat stuffed pastries that were surprisingly not greasy, money does buy certain advantages, and I sat at a small table away from the crowd of well-wishers and wanna-be's. The crusted lamb with fennel was taking all of my attention when a beautiful woman sat down at my right hand shaking me from my gourmet reverie. Her poise and her presence marked her as a member of the ballet company and her thin face was framed by long, brown hair.

"Hungry?" she asked with a smile.

"Starving," I managed to choke out without spraying crumbs of pastry.

"Me, too," she continued and we mowed through our plates in companionable silence. 

A ballet dancer has a window of about ten to twelve years of excellent dancing before the body begins to succumb to the abuse on the joints. This woman certainly looked close to my age which meant that she was nearing the end of her dancing career on the main stage.

She asked me if I enjoyed the performance and I confessed that I had missed most of it. I came back and asked her why I did not recognize her from tonight's performance and she admitted that she had been placed in the back of the company. Her energy and her manner were captivating and we talked for some time as the party ebbed and flowed around us. The party seemed to lose its sparkle and Danni, short for Danielle, nudged my elbow and indicated the direction of the door with her head.

Out the door meant out and onward to her apartment. Inside her place she whipped my tie off of my neck and led me to the bedroom where we quickly disrobed. Danni jumped onto the bed and waiting on her knees padded the spot next to her. I crawled in, quite aware that I did not leap, and met her face to face. We began a slow sensual kiss, which began dry and moved onto a wet exchange of tongues and lips. I began to murmur just how good I felt when Danni stopped me and pulled away. She put her finger to my lips motioning me to be silent and then kissed me again. 

Danni began to choreograph our sex with the attention of perfectionist. She ran her hands up and down my torso as we continued crouch on our knees. My hands followed suit and I marveled at the firmness of her muscles beneath her soft skin. I lift weights but the tautness of her frame left me feeling self-conscious. Danni moved on quickly and my thoughts fled as she began to seduce me further.

During a recent massage as at the gym, the masseuse isolated every muscle group and then parsed each muscle out and kneaded it. Danni reminded me of that masseuse as she found each and every muscle, but caressed it with gentle fingers of pleasure. I reciprocated and reveled in how every muscle I found stood and responded to my probing. All the tension fled my back and shoulders and settled into my cock which stood out with an unrelenting hardness.

Danni had me on my stomach, then I came up and laid her down just the same. We continued onto each other's legs and arms, our arousal filling the air. Unable to resist any longer, I reached between her legs and began to caress the lips of her pussy. Her excitement had already leaked and was coating my fingers and staining the white sheets. Danni rose with a quick peck to my lips and reached into her night table pulling out a condom and a tube of KY. She unfurled the rubber over my cock and coated the sheath with a huge gob of gel while my fingers continued to explore the folds of her pussy.

The silence in the room was surreal.

Danni pulled away and got on all fours and wiggled her butt in the air. I was behind her in a flash and lined up my cock with her pussy. I touched her lips and Danni reached behind and flicked my cock up. I repositioned myself at her pussy again and she grabbed hold of my pole and aimed it up again.

Her message sank in and I took both hands and pulled her butt cheeks apart until her rosebud was fully exposed. I stroked her entrance with my finger as I lined up my cock and slowly pushed through her resistance. My cockhead popped in and a sigh brought her head to the pillow. I worked my cock into her canal, carefully thrusting until she had taken all of me. I stopped and waited.

Danni propped herself up on her elbows and began undulating a wave that began at her shoulders and ended at her hips. My hips rocked to the slow rhythm of the wave and my cock gently moved back and forth in her ass. It was the most sensual feeling I ever encountered as we danced the act of fucking. Danni kept sending waves back to her hips and forth to her shoulders, deep and slow. Gradually she picked up speed and the waves came more shallow but quicker; my thrusts became longer and deeper.

I was rapidly loosing control and I wanted her to cum before I did. I reached under her hip and found her pussy. The juices were clinging and dripping along the edges of her lips and I reached in to find her clit. I began rubbing her nub in rapid circles and her hips began to rotate in the same circle as my finger. The muscles on her back and legs began to tighten and the defined lengths of corded flesh began to rise. I was barely holding on and was in danger of falling out of her ass when suddenly she convulsed once and froze. The air rushed out of her lungs as her orgasm ran through her body. 

My cock felt a vise seize it and squeeze. Taking her hips in my hands again I pumped with naked urgency until my cock shot its own release in lunge of muscle I felt deep in my groin. Danni sagged onto her stomach I followed her down, my cock still firmly lodged up her ass. I lay on her and listened to her labored breathing, the only sound in the room.

She reached around and patted my hip twice. I rolled off of her and pulled the latex off of my softened cock. Danni took my other hand and led me to her bathroom, pointed to the trashcan and turned the shower on hot. The exhaustion crinkled the sides of my eyeballs and the air felt thick and musty around my body. Danni took me under the spray and began a soft gentle kiss. The water melted me into her and I forcefully molded her body into mine. I grabbed her earlobe with my lips an nibbled her jawline until I found her lips again. 

Danni gave me a tired smile and reached around and turned off the water. We toweled off and fell back into bed and sleep. 

The next morning I stared at her across the table as she hid her face behind a cup of steaming tea. This woman had me completely entranced, energized and excited. I wanted to shout "That was incredible last night" or "God, let's do that again" but I sensed that she was waiting for something else from me.

"I don't know you at all," I began, then paused, and she nodded in response.

"Would you like to know me," she countered and imitating her, I nodded back.

"Oh, an honest lawyer now?" she teased me.

"Do you own rose colored glasses?" I asked and when she shook her head I concluded, "good, then we will get along well together."

She looked slightly puzzled by my cryptic question and then settled upon a contented smile that I have come to anticipate and love.



After the Bar



"Bring it...," you defiantly whisper in my ear as your husband finishes pulling your thong off and retreats back onto the bed just a few feet from where I sit.

Bare underneath, I bend you over my lap and I playfully spank and rub your ass, feeling it right through the tight dress you have on. As I push the fabric up until your pussy peeks out, you bend over further so I can see how ready you are...

I gently tease, rubbing my finger around it. The tension builds as you look at your husband and he is obviously on edge. An invisible line is about to be crossed. 

Up until now, it was harmless play. A flirtation easily explained away. The wine, beer, and dancing with a handsome stranger at the bar to such a great band. The kiss, the rubbing, and touching me where you would never dare to touch your husband in public. Even showing me your most intimate place, obviously wet with excitement could be ignored over time. Still you feel my fingers moving to your lips and staying there, they spread you and lightly caress your clit and forbidden entrance. 

You feel me and my excitement clearly through my pants. Its hardness pushes into your stomach as I am reaching to cross that line. We cross it together as you push up off my lap and into my fingers, kissing me passionately. You are moaning from the relief to finally feel something filling a space that yearned to be filled and until this moment was too empty. As you push into and onto my hand, you also move your hand to the outline on my pants and squeeze as if to affirm the fact we were going to the next level, unsure where we might stop.

You break from my lips to look at your hubby and cannot believe he is just sitting next to you watching this attractive stranger tongue you. Smiling even, as I fondle his wife's breasts, ass, and now is pushing yet another finger in.

You notice how hard he is in his pants and that he keeps adjusting and rubbing his crotch. This is for him, for you, for you both.

I widen your sexy legs and finger you more intensely as you open even more.... Your g spot is found and your moans increase, as does your rubbing of my pants. 

A mere 20 minutes ago, you were just dancing with a guy & now...

"Take out my cock," I whisper urgently. You unzip me and I lift up a bit to allow you to pull my pants down. 

You gasp realizing I am bigger than your husband. Than any other man you have ever felt. It has been a long time since you have seen a cock so close that wasn't his...

How did you get here?

I bought you a beer and ignoring your ring I asked you to dance. You glanced at your hubby to receive a "Why not?" shoulder shrug and I pulled you close as the song changed to a slower ballad. Our bodies synced up immediately and you could feel my excitement to be with you as you pressed into my chest. My excitement increased yours. My hands roamed and for a moment you almost kiss me but stiffen with fright realizing hubby is watching, you look to him and he smiles. 

His smile told you everything. 

You have talked about this moment before. After too much wine and great sex, what he thinks would be hot to see you do to another man. How he wants to see your mouth filled with another man's cock as he pushes your head onto it. Using your mouth hard to please the other man. Then you admit to him how there is some hot sexy black guy at work in the mailroom. How you want to fuck him every time he stops by your desk to tell you how nice your tits are with his eyes and awkward comments. That you see his hard body and wish it was bending you over your desk and fucking you deep and hard...Then morning comes and you both act like you never said it and wonder if the wine erased it or if it lingers...

You see in hubby's eye that this moment is the one he wished for ... So you let your hands roam and soon wanted to kiss this man. You hated how public this felt. This was for you and hubby, no one else to gawk at or gossip about. You needed to be close and intimate, so you gave in and whispered, "Room 245 now....Bring champagne..."

So fast. It all was happening so fast and in a very brief moment you think maybe I should slow down or stop but then realize you are looking at this big beautiful cock. It is suddenly free and raising straight up, you waste no time and stroke it firmly feeling my hardness and the heft of it. Tracing the curves to my tip, you see my excitement coming out... You taste my precum and then open your mouth to fill it with my throbbing thick hard flesh. 

You love knowing it is so hard for you. That I find your body so sexy. That each of the big veins you trace along my shaft are pumping blood for you. This erection that you know is going to fill you and more is throbbing to be inside you... It is the sweet and salty taste that only a new strange man has, when his desire is off the charts. The taste you always wish for while sucking hubby but have not had in years.

The idea I want you so bad right now I am ignoring our "marriages" and risking everything for this moment. To have this passionate moment with you and share your body. You know I want to give every single nerve you have the sensation of hot lustful pleasure. These thoughts get you even hotter and my fingers just stoke your flames even more as you are already close to coming. 

You are sucking my cock like a pornstar would... That is what you are trying for and seem amazed at how easy and right it feels. You lick and suck and loving how sloppy and wet it is. You lick and tease my balls feeling dirty. Feeling real and intense. Hot and eager for more, you love how I grab your waist to put you on top of me. I lift my head up to taste you and begin to thrust my hips a little so I can push deeper into your mouth. 

You look up to see your husband. You know what he is thinking; "She doesn't suck me like that..." Going back down on cock, you reach out your hand to him. I resume thrusting in and out and you are so excited by how my tongue is circling your clit that you just want as much cock in every part of you that you can... He comes to you to meet your reaching hand and you grab his belt.... He fumbles it open and you start to stroke his cock and then take your hand and put his hand on your head. Pulling my cock out you say, "Use my mouth on him like I'm his whore!" Hubby pushes your head hard onto my cock and starts to push it so my cock is now firmly past your mouth. It is in your throat, further than any cock has ever been ...

As you give up control of yourself letting us use your mouth, I move from licking to sucking your clit as I finger your pussy... Sucking your wet swollen clit hard in my mouth, my tongue dances on it in a fast and consistent rhythm. You literally explode and I am so wet, I have never felt a woman cum so much on me and I am so turned on. My face is soaked in your taste. I just push on licking and sucking, using my fingers to stretch your hole and you are pushed into another orgasm, even more soaks me. You beg me to stop but your hubby just pushes you back onto my cock. You submit. Your submission is rewarded and soon you are again overwhelmed by the rolling pleasure of three orgasms in a row. Finally, I cum into your mouth and you try as hard as you can to take it all...

You roll off me and look so hot and sexy. Sweat is all over you and your pussy and thighs glisten. You are spread open and exposed. Your face sloppy with spit and cum dribbling down your chin makes you look even hotter. You lightly trace my cock head and give it a few soft licks and soft sucking kisses letting me enjoy the soft reverberations of my orgasm. This brief quiet moment of pleasure as we come down from such magnificent highs is too much. The lust and sex fill the air and your hubby is unable to hold back. He gets between your legs and easily slides into you. 

I enjoy watching him fuck you and soon you roll to your stomach so he can go hard and deep from behind. The sudden different stimulation is welcome and fulfilling at the very least. As he fucks, you play with my cock and I am harder sooner that you expect. 

I look to your hubby and we switch, you taste yourself off his cock as a widen you from behind... 

We enter nice rhythm and you are soon cumming again as you get pushed and pulled between two cocks. You feel dirty and powerful. 

You start to shake and scream, right there, yes! Right there. I am pounding at a nice consistent rhythmic pace and your hubby is reaching down and rubbing your clit. 

"DONT FUCKING STOP," YOU SCREAM!

To be continued... 



After the Bar



From the bar, we wander around town most of the night. I keep walking behind you, about a pace or two, so I can stare at your ass and watch the way your hips move. You keep reaching back to hold my hand, telling me to catch up, but I have other things on my mind. When we return to the hotel, we're both a little buzzed and I have my arm around your waist and we're bumping hips as we laugh into the elevator. It's a short ride up to the fifth floor. In the elevator I place my palm on your right ass cheek and squeeze. Bing! The door opens and you twist away, swing those hips out of my grasp while I'm wide eyed.

Our room is at the end of the hall, a nice little suite I got for us. Two rooms. Big windows. A couch and high bed with lots of pillows. At the door, I pull out the key card for the door and hand it to you. But just before you reach for it, I let it drop to the floor. It's a dirty trick to make you bend over in the hallway and pick it up. When you bend over at the waist, I drop to my knee and run a hand up the inside of your stocking. You have no panties on tonight, you surprised me. I run the palm of my hand all the way to your core. You are still damp from the bar and a little swollen. I hear you take a breath.

I want to fuck you right here against the door to our room, but once again you twist away from me. The key card goes in, the door opens, and you scoot inside before I can do a thing. "Oh you're not playing fair," I say and chase you.

Inside the hotel room the couch is close to the door, and you stop abruptly on one side, causing me to crash into you. The door slams shut. I nearly stumble over you, but you can feel my hardness on your backside. You laugh, and turn and kiss me over your shoulder. A deep, open, searching kiss. While I'm kissing you, I am pulling at your dress, raising it over your legs. You teasing me, trying to keep the hem down, but I am too fast. Before you can play more games, I have the little black dress bunched under your breasts and one hand is stroking your slit. I start nibbling your ear and the back of your neck. You give up for a second and arch against me. I run my other hand up your flank, along your side and then bend you over the edge of the couch.

In a second, my jeans are open and my cock is in my hand. I lean into you. You've stretched your arms out, supporting yourself on the arm of the couch. Your bangs are in your eyes. Ur ass looks amazing and I am so hard for you. Your legs are open, high in your heels. The head of my cock enters your pussy just a little, you are soaking wet. 

"You want this?" I ask you.

"Yes"

"Yes?" I ask to be sure.

"Oh yessss"

I slide all the way into you and bury myself. You give a slight moan. I start fucking you, deep, then deeper, lifting you slightly on your tip toes against the couch. While I'm stroking into you, I take one of your hands and snake it between your legs. I want you to play with yourself. I want you to fuck me.

"Babbby..."I say. You're fingering your clit while I pound into you from behind. I'm afraid my fingers will leave marks where I'm clutching your hips. You are twisting and grinding against me. "Babbbby...." 

You push against me more and it's too much, too soon. I can feel it beginning. I try to warn you, but you push back into me, clenching me with your pussy. It's too much! and I explode inside your pussy. You are so tight around me, I think you must feel me pulsing. 

One, two, three, and then little after-tremors. My legs feel weak. My head is heavy. It came from so deep in me. 

You sigh, and stand up, my glistening cock slips out of you. You peel the little black dress over your head and sashay into the bedroom naked but in heels and stockings. Your ass sways and calls to me. In a sultry voice you say: "Now get in here, and make me cum, baby." You can feel my cum dripping down your inner thigh.

********

The best part about being on top of you is I can grab onto your shoulders and leverage myself into you at my own pace. I start by taking short strokes, sawing along the inside of your pussy, back and forth, so you can feel how hard you've made me. Sometimes I grasp the back of your neck with one hand, and turn your face so you are staring into my eyes. I want to see that look on your face every time I slide into you. I watch your eyes open and close, your eye lids look heavy with pleasure. 

You reach up to tweak my nipples while I'm pounding into you. I think you feel me instantly get harder, if that's even possible. God, you turn me on. I throw my head back and bottom out inside you after several long strokes. Then I pull you against me, close to my face. "Tell me you like it..." I hiss into your ear.

"Fuck, babyyy..." is all you are able to say.

I lift your legs higher, resting against my shoulders. I increase my pace. My cock is so wet sliding into your tight pussy. My heavy balls start to slap against your ass. I have both hands now clasped behind your neck and I am literally burying myself inside you on every other stroke. Your eyes are wide and your mouth is open in ecstasy.

"You are so hot..." I say through clinched teeth. "You are so tight, honey...."

I can see you're starting to get going. Your cheeks are flush and the muscles along your neck are straining. If I keep going you will cum, but I have other plans for you. I short stroke you a little and when your eyes plead with me, I back almost all the way out and then bury myself to the hilt. Lodged fully inside you, I grind against your clit and pussy lips.

"Oh my god," you breathe.

I slip from your folds. My cock is hard and sticking straight up, covered in your juices. I am holding myself above you. You don't know why I stopped, but it instantly becomes clear when I spin around bury myself along your bikini line. You feel warm wet kisses on your inner thighs. The little spot below your belly feels my tongue painting you with saliva. Your pussy is slightly open and dripping. I swipe at it with my tongue, and your legs settle open and I start eating you like a juicy piece of ripe fruit. 

"Ohhh, Jesus..." I love it when you get excited. I like to hear you making those little noises that tell me you're getting off. "Oh...fuuccck." You exhale.

My tongue is inside you, I have your lips pulled open and I am spearing you, in a side by side sixty-nine. My goatee, now soaked with your pussy juice, is rubbing against your clit. You start wiggling your hips, meeting my tongue. I wet my pinky finger, and while holding you open, I start tracing lazy circles around your little asshole. I watch your rose contract each time I get close. You are panting and clutch at the back of my head. 

"Jay, jay, j-jay..." When you start bucking against me, I know you're getting close.

You reach for my cock beside your head and wrap your hand around it jerking me. I think you aim to distract me, so I move my tongue to your clit. I flatten it across your bud and apply steady pressure. Your fluids are all over my face. I don't care that minutes ago I was shooting my load into you. I just know how good you taste and I want more. I tell you to cum for me. I egg you on. You keep bucking against me and grip my cock harder. 

When I feel you take me in your mouth, I slide the tip of pinky just inside your ass, and then I suck your clit into my mouth like it was a nipple and I go to town. You instantly gasp and let go of my cock. 

"Oh my fucking god..." you cry. 

I suck you until your legs go stiff and your back arches. You cum in my mouth and drink you in. It lasts forever...you are pinned beneath my mouth writhing. When you try to squirm away from me, I lick your slit and get even more of you in my mouth. 

You are so sensitive right now, I back away. I'm over you and looking down on you. My cock is hard and your eyes are locked on it.

I tell you: "Oh I'm going to fuck you, Baby. Now roll over..."



After the Bar Pt. 01



"I think you should kiss me."

We had just gotten back from the bar, and she was lying back on the steps to the front porch, smoking a cigarette. I stood a few paces away, happy to be outside. It was the middle of the night, and the street was dead quiet. One of those nights where you don't even feel the air, and the world is at peace. A few beers in; feeling happy and feeling loose. Feeling the possibilities.

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why not?"

"Because if I come over there and kiss you, I'm not going to want to stop."

-

She and I had been friends for years, after being introduced by a guy who was a mutual friend. She and I got along really well; we still do, and that's the beauty of it. I don't know exactly how it happened, but she and I became very comfortable without friendship. We would have fun and joke around, talk about our respective relationships or life issues, thrift shop, drink, step outside for a smoke - you name it, we did it. We would also enjoy casual physical contact, flirt innocently, and hug whenever we met up and parted ways. All in total comfort; never any sexual tension whatsoever. Don't get me wrong, I always did and still do think she is totally sexy. She is an artist and a free spirit, and I love her. But it's always been about the friendship, and I have always been totally happy that way. And that's how the cuddling started.

She was in a long distance relationship, and she didn't see much of her boyfriend at all. I was around a lot at night (often unable to drive at home) since she was living with our mutual friend, and somehow we started sleeping together. When I say sleeping, I mean it literally. We would cuddle up and sleep. It was great. Everything stayed exactly as before, but after a long night of whatever we were doing, we would hop into her bed, spoon, and say goodnight. Not every night, mind you. Not even every night I was over. It just happened sometimes.

-

There wasn't any awkwardness, really no sexual tension. The way things were between us, I figured pretty much anything could happen and our friendship would remain unchanged. We were both so comfortable with each other, so comfortable with our sexuality, so happy as we were. So why didn't I think it was a good idea? She had a boyfriend.

"Well I think you should kiss me."

Really, I think it was the look she gave me more than the alcohol in my system. That leaned back, chin down, eyes up look that only a woman can give a man. Smoldering.

I walked over and went for it. My knee between her legs, quad pressed between them. My chest pressed against hers, a hand on either side of her body to hold what little weight I didn't put into her. My mouth on hers, sharing the taste of the nights beer, whiskey, and tobacco. And the taste of her. She pushed me up with a hand to my chest, and I really couldn't tell if it had been more than she wanted or not nearly enough. She just smiled.

Her roommate, our mutual friend, and his girl arrived. The mood shifted with the cars headlights, the loud music, and their loud conversation over the music. He killed the engine and all three stopped. He got out.

"What?"

We all went inside.

-

It wasn't long before our friend and his girl disappeared into his room, leaving us in hers. We got ready for bed. For me, this meant stripping to my underwear and tshirt. For her, well, it varied. As often as not, it was just panties, but tonight she kept a top on, too. If her choice even registered in my mind, I probably assumed she wanted to avoid sending any mixed messages after the kiss. She climbed into bed after me. I was on my side, bottom arm out, making a place for her to lay against me. She did, but on her back, my bicep behind her neck, her body close to mine. This meant she was not ready to sleep yet, which meant continuing some discussion from earlier in the night. Again, I assumed she wanted to address the kiss. It turns out I was right, in exactly the wrong way.

She kissed me. A goodnight kiss, I thought. But no, this was a real kiss. A hand about to press against my chest, I thought. But no, this time she wasn't stopping. Well, we were dressed, and we had already kissed earlier, so what's the harm, I thought. I rolled toward her, my top hand hooking under her far shoulder, my top leg finding the gap between hers. So it will be a nice make out session, a step up from cuddling, but still innocent enough. Until I felt her hand running up the back of my shirt. There was a part of my mind that reminded me about her boyfriend. But he was so far away, and away so often. And we were just fooling around a little. It would never go anywhere, and nothing serious would happen. Just keep it above the waist, I told myself. So I decided to go with it.

It wasn't long before she had my shirt off and her mouth on my neck, shoulder and chest. My hands, which had previously been roaming her body, slid under her shirt. I worked one up her side, bringing it under her shoulder so I could hold her and support my weight. The other ran slowly up her stomach, fingers curled down, nails playing against her skin. It came to her breast which, despite her habit of sleeping topless, I had never felt. It was just as I expected, smooth soft skin, supple and firm, topped with a small and currently very hard nipple. The kind of breast every man remembers from his younger days.

As I toyed with her nipple, her mouth same back to mine. But I made sure that was only I passing, as I kissed along her jawline, down the side of her neck, and along her collarbone. She squirmed beneath me, pressing her head into the bed and arching her back. Not one to miss an opportunity, I used both hands to work her shirt up to her shoulders and dropped my mouth to her now bared skin as she pried it the rest of the way off.

With one breast in my hand and the other in my mouth, the boundary I had set for myself began to blur. If I grab her ass over her panties, that's still over the clothes, right? They were just plain cotton, full backed. It wasn't like she was wearing a thong or anything. What the hell, I went for it, and she definitely did not resist. I grabbed her ass and felt it tighten as she pressed herself up into my leg. She brought a hand to my face and guided my mouth back to hers. Her other hand found mine. That one she guided between her legs. Under her panties. She moaned into my mouth and pressed my finger between her lips. She was dripping wet.

Well, it's not like I'm inside her, right? So still not such a big deal. And hey, we haven't broken the barrier of my waistband. She must know what she's doing and be ok with it. So what's the problem? Nope, no problem. With the pad of my finger working around her opening and the top following suit against her clit, I broke our kiss to look into her eyes. I wanted to see the look on her face, read her reactions, and give her what she wanted. With her hand still against mine, it didn't take long. I could see it in her eyes first, that focused look as she tried to hold off and let the sensation build. Her body tensed and her breath became shallow. Her hand clamped down on mine, holding it still against her. And then she let go and let the pleasure overtake her.



After the Bar Pt. 02



I really didn't know what to expect next. Maybe, having had an orgasm, she would be satisfied and that would be the end of the encounter. Or maybe she would feel guilty, also bringing about the end of it. I realized that, in all the time we'd spend together and conversations we'd had, we had never shared any real details about our sexual habits.

I also wasn't sure how I felt about what might happen next. I was, without a doubt, fully aroused. I mean, how could I not be? This girl was the definition of sexy on a normal day, and here we were, a little drunk, late at night, wrapped around each other and half naked. My primal side was already debating whether to bother taking her panties off or just push them to the side. But, then there was the rational side; the part of me that was her close friend and respected her relationship.

I climbed fully on top of her, my legs between her, her between my arms. The look she gave me was beyond just consent. But I kept going, off of her and off of the bed. I needed a moment to collect my thoughts. I headed to the bathroom, took a sobering look in the mirror, and threw some cold water onto my face. These were my thoughts as I took stock of the situation: our judgment was definitely slightly impaired, we were close friends, she had a boyfriend; but she got off once and I had a breather, we had the kind of mature friendship that wouldn't be affected by a little fooling around, and for all I knew she and her boyfriend worked out some kind of agreement to get through the distance. Final decision: I wouldn't push it, but I'd follow her lead.

I took one last look in the mirror, one last deep breath, and turned to go back to her room. But there she was. Without saying a word, she pushed me further into the bathroom and turned to close and lock the door. In no time, she had me up against the back wall and knelt in front of me. With her hands on my hips, she looked up and gave me that come hither look.

"I wasn't done with you."

I was so glad I had made peace with my decision not to object, because I couldn't have said no even if I'd wanted to. She pulled my underwear down to my knees, and I leaned back against the wall for support, closing my eyes. I felt her warmth as she drew closer. Her hands returned to my hips, as if to hold me, as she teased me with her tongue. I groaned with pleasure, pushing my hips off the wall as if by reflex. She drew her mouth back and pushed her hands forward. Message received, this was still about her. And I was totally ok with that.

I opened my eyes and looked down. So long as I was going to wait for satisfaction, I was going to enjoy the show. She set to work with her mouth, still licking but also starting to take me in. What a sight. Her mouth toying with me as she knelt, still topless, panties now gone. Since she was leaning into me, holding me against the wall, her knees were far enough back that her ass stuck out, giving me a fantastic view. I love this sight, the flow from shoulders to torso to hips. Plus, her ass matched her tits to a t; young and supple, small and tight, with well-formed curves. Ah, youth.

As her teasing lessened and her depth increased, the pressure on my hips lessened. She ran one hand up my torso and the other down hers. I happily pulled off my shirt to give her free reign of my upper body, and her gentle moaning indicated that her other hand was just as busy. Normally, just a blow job is not enough to get me off, but between that view, her hand on my body, and vibrations coming from her throat as she pleasured herself, I was not expecting to last too much longer. Her attention to me slacked as her moaning built, until she pulled her mouth away completely and leaned back. With one hand between her legs and the other twisting her nipple, she looked up at me just as she had back on the bed and made herself cum.

She leaned back, her hands finding the ground on either side of her, naturally arching her back and presenting me with what I would have to say was the ideal target for my own finish. Her eyes remained on mine, and a smile spread across her face. I have never been much of an exhibitionist, but as I took my still wet shaft in hand, I knew I was going to enjoy putting on a little show for her. The excitement in her eyes as she licked her lips, the view of her body before me, the fresh memory of her mouth on my, it was all so erotic in the purest sense of the word. Our eyes stayed locked as I rebuilt the rhythm she had previously set, and I knew it would not be long.

I picked up the pace as I felt my orgasm build, and leaning off the wall and taking aim at her chest. When I could no longer hold back, I closed my eyes and tilted my head back, ready to let go. And just then, I felt her mouth on me, her lips pushing my hand down my shaft as she took me deeper and deeper. I was caught off guard in the best way possible as I came in her mouth. She rode out my orgasm, and continued as it subsided, gently sucking and gliding her tongue over me without moving her lips. As I came back to reality, I looked down and saw her upturned eyes. She must have been watching me the whole time.

"One more thing. You're big spoon."

I pulled my underwear back up and followed her back to her room. I climbed into bed, while she put on a fresh pair of panties. No top. She crawled in under the blankets and gave me a quick kiss before rolling away and scooting to press her back into me, drawing my arm into her chest with both hands. As her breathing grew shallow and I felt her heartbeat slow, I was completely content. I knew, and a morning conversation confirmed, that if anything, the nights' events would only strengthen our friendship. So with a smile on my face and a perfect calm flowing through me, I nuzzled into the back of her neck and joined her in sleep.



After the Bath



This one day I come in from the office and call out to you.

"I'm in the bath," I hear you reply. That's nice, I think. I go to the kitchen and open a bottle of wine and pour two glasses. In the bedroom I take off my coat and tie, unloosen my collar and go into the bath room with the glasses, sitting on the edge of the tub. You've been playing with the bubble-bath, silly girl; the tub is overflowing with bubbles. I hand you a glass, and ask how your day has been.

"Fine," you say. "I was a little lonely."

"Did you miss me?" I ask.

"Yes. I had no one to play with."

"But yourself."

"Stop," you protest.

"So you didn't masturbate today?" I press.

"Well..." you coo, coyly, "maybe a little."

I take a sip of wine, then put my glass down and take off my shirt.

"Here," I say. "Let's get you washed." I reach over you and grab the sponge, dunk it into the water and squeeze. "Move forward, let me get your back."

You lean forward and take a sip of wine. I scrub your back, around your neck and reach down to scrub your bum. Sitting up-right now, billows of suds cover your breasts. You play with the bubbles, making little peaks over your nipples. I kiss you on the top of the head, then pull the soapy sponge around to wash the front of your neck.

"Do my front too," you say.

"'Please'?" I taunt.

"Please."

"I thought you'd never ask," I laugh.

You lean back and rest your head on the back of the tub as I slide the sponge over your chest, between and then under your breasts. I squeeze out the water and suck in more, then ease my hand under the water to rub the sponge over your mons. I hear a little sigh escape your lips.

"You like that," I comment.

"Yes," you admit. "I've been horny all day."

"And you haven't masturbated?"

"Just a little. I was waiting for you to come home."

"My good little Cupcake."

Releasing the sponge, I let my fingers slide between the lips of your pussy. I can feel your clitoris, it's hard. When I touch it, you let out a little gasp.

"Okay," I say, "let's slow down. Move up."

"Where?"

"I was to wash your ass. I plan on eating it later."

"Yes, daddy," you coo, leaning forward to let my run the sponge between your ass cheeks. I let go of the sponge again, and slip a finger into your anus.

"Nice and clean," I say, and you reach up one hand to anchor yourself to my arm. I stoke my finger in and out of your tight little bum-hole, imagining how it will be when I fill it with my cock.

Yes, I'm getting hard thinking about taking you, making you my own. But I shake off the reverie, pull my hands out of the water, and grab for a towel.

"Stand up," I say. "Let me spray you off."

I hit the drain cock and turn on the water, pulling down the hand-held shower head. I adjust the water temperature as you're standing there, waiting for me, globs of bubbles dripping from your breasts and belly and hips. I stand up and hose you off, the gentle spray liquidating the bubbles.

"Turn around and let me do your back," I say. You're such a good little girl, accepting my ever request, complying with each command. You're leaning forward with your butt thrust back. I want to bite it, and I do. Then I adjust the spray of the shower to 'pulse' and aim the jets of water at your puffy labia. With my hand, I spread your butt cheeks and then point the stream at your asshole. You're holding tight to the towel rod, and I can tell by the way that you're clenching the pulsing jets of water are effecting you. My cock is hard in my pants, watching you squirm as the water pounds against your delicate flesh.

The tub is finally drained, and I spray down your legs and feet. "Turn around," I say, aiming the jet of water directly at your pussy. "I think you need a shave. I want your pussy smooth."

I turn off the water and hang up the shower. "Sit down," I say, "and dry off." I get my shaving kit out of the cabinet as you dry yourself. "I'm going to shave you." You sit on the shelf at the back of the tub, calmly drying your legs, but I can tell you're a little nervous. I shake the can of shaving foam and lay the razor next you on the shelf, then kneel beside you.

"You'll be careful, right?" you ask hopefully.

"Of course. I don't want to damage that perfect little pussy." I lean forward a flick a drop of water of your nipple. I'm not surprised that they're hard, poking forward from your delicate little breasts. I can feel the dampness of my pre-come leaking in my pants and imagine that your pussy juices are flowing too. Then you hear the spray of the foam as it aerosols out of the can and onto my fingers. "Spread," I order, and you move your knees apart, giving me access to your sweet pussy. I gently lave the foam over the short pubic hairs, deliberately massaging the foam into the softest flesh on your tender body. Your labia are engorged and puffy; this will be easy.

You reach a hand out and grab my naked shoulder, partially to steady yourself, partially to feel connected to the arm and hand that will hold the blade which will be soon touching your pussy. I turn the hot water tap on and warm up the razor. My cock is pulsing now and oozing as your lather-coated pussy is right before my face. "Good girl," I say, "Don't worry; this will be fast and easy."

I bring the blade to your pussy, and gently swipe down, removing the hair neatly. The blade is new and sharp. I swipe down the other side, holding the flesh of your lips between my fingers to give a straight area to shave. You're holding your breath, but from the flow of lubricant you're producing, I can tell the fear is an aphrodisiac. I shave the delicate little hairs of your peritoneum (the 'tween--between your pussy and asshole) and then work on the delta of hair over your mons. Should I leave a "landing strip"? I wonder. Or maybe a little triangle of fuzz, pointing towards the center of your pleasure and mine. I decide to leave a thin strip of short hair--just enough for you to know that you're a full-grown woman.

You're fingers are digging into my shoulder involuntarily, and only loosen their grip when I say: "Done." I run the sponge under the tap and wash away the remaining drops of foam. Your pussy is clean and smooth and I can't resist leaning forward and taking a lick. I feel you fingers again against the flesh of my collar. But not yet. I don't want you to come yet.

I stand up, and you can see the outline of my hard-on against the fabric of my suit pants. You reach out to stroke my cock and then quickly pull down the zipper and dig it out. Even though we've been together some time, you're surprised by how wet my underwear are, how much pre-come I've spilt during this episode. You've got my cock out of the fly now, and grab my ass and pull me towards you, sucking me into your mouth. I love how you suck my cock, but want to wait. I have something special in mind; I pull out. "Not yet, my cupcake."

I put the shaving things away, and toss you another towel. "Put that on and go into the lounge and enjoy your wine," I say. "I'll be along shortly." You wrap the towel around your waist, and take the glass as I've requested. You look like a Tahitian maiden from "Mutiny on the Bounty" walking out of the room, long black hair flowing, naked except for the sarong-like towel around your waist.

I go into the bedroom and take off my shoes, socks and suit pants which I hang up. My underwear are soaked, but I leave them on, hoping the dark spot in the front will please you. On the way from the bedroom to the lounge, I stop and grab the bottle of wine so I can top up your glass. When I enter the room, you're sitting on the sofa, gently stroking your pussy, happily surprised at the clean-shaven look and feel. I fill your glass and you feel my cock straining against the fabric of my briefs.

"Take me," you implore. "I need you to fuck me."

"I will," I say, "in time." I sit in a chair opposite the sofa. "First I want to watch you. Go ahead, play with yourself. Show me how you masturbate waiting for me to come home."

I love the look of your slick, hairless slit. You pull your legs apart and begin to stroke your pussy. It's already quite wet, and I imagine the heat being generated. You skootch your butt forward to the edge of the sofa and spread your lips with the tips of your fingers. Then you plunge one finger into your hot, wet cunt for lube and begin stroking your clit, hard. My cock is aching and your eyes are fixed on it as we sit opposite each other. I move my hands under my ass--it's all I can do to keep from stroking it as I watch you play with yourself.

"Make yourself come," I say, "really finger yourself." I want nothing more than to sink my tongue between your lips and lap up the nectar you're producing, nothing more than releasing my cock and fucking you hard. I watch your fingers dance across your clit and dip in between your lips and imagine my cock sliding there, filling you up, pounding into you. "Come for me, Cupcake. Make yourself come," I encourage. "Stroke your slit." Your fingers are frantic now; although you're still staring at the outline of the hard rod in my crotch, your eyes are glazed over and I can tell you're lost in the ecstasy of your own pleasure. You have two fingers buried deep inside you now, and you're touching that special spot deep within your pussy just behind your clit. A low moan slowly slips from your open mouth and I believe you're about to come. I leave my chair and kneel before you, my mouth only inches from your cunt, my eyes glued to your fingers plunging in and out of your pussy. "Oh fuck," you say, "oh goddamn." You're close, very close. "Ohh, ohh, ohhhhh my god!" you scream as your body stiffens and the first wave of orgasm breaks across you, moving from deep within the pit of your pussy, outward until your skin is all aglow.

I grab your wrist and pull your fingers out of you and suck them into my mouth at the same time inserting two of my own. You arch your back as another orgasm pulses through you when I hit the g-spot with my fingers burrowed deep inside you. The taste of your cunt juice from your fingers was an intoxicant and I want you more right that moment then ever before. With my fingers buried in your cunt, I pull you off the sofa and onto the floor. You're stunned, but not enough to prevent you from pushing my underwear over my hips and finally releasing my cock.

"Fuck me, Frankie, fuck me hard!" you cry out, guiding my rock-hard prick towards your cunt. I don't slow or resist or hesitate: once you have me aimed in the right place, I sink my prick into you in one smooth stroke, filling you, stretching you. There is nothing between us now: no emotion, no tenderness, no affection. We are animals. I am a cock pulsing and pushing, you are a cunt, a hole, a receptacle. I need emptying, you need filling. I pump into you as hard as I can, driving my rod into you again and again and again. Your cunt is a mess of goo and one orgasm after another explodes inside you. And now I feel it, my own orgasm is about to start. The simple thought of my semen filling your cunt is enough to send me over the edge and I stiffen as I spurt deep inside you. "You bitch," I moan as jet after jet of come pulses into your cunt, "you sexy little bitch." I collapse on top of you in a heap of sweaty flesh and bones.

And then I realize I hadn't kissed you yet. I want to invade your mouth with my tongue as I'd just invaded your cunt with my cock. When I taste your tongue against mine, I was floating in a daze of emotion. My good little Cupcake, I think. My good little girl. We lay there kissing as my cock softens and plops out of your hairless pussy. It was just 7:00. My mind gradually expands around the reality of the time and the place, and I roll off you.

"I think I need a bath," you say.

"Me too," I reply, imagining the possibilities for the rest of the night.