7 comments/ 524839 views/ 49 favorites Getting To Know You By: rbuchanan Why does a young man’s marriage break up? In these turbulent days there are probably many possible reasons ... but in this case I think it was entirely down to my Mother. Don’t get me wrong, she wasn’t directly involved. She was never anything but kind and generous to my wife. The problem was that my earliest sexual experiences ... sexual fantasies that is ... were all focussed on my mother: the way she dressed, the way she looked, and the way she cared for me. And as we all know, our earliest sexual experiences tend to form our later sexual tastes, and I supposed I developed what is commonly referred to as a ‘fetish’ ... well a number of fetishes actually. One for small pert breasts in low-cut bras, one for stockings and suspenders and high-heeled shoes ... and one for the idea of incest! However, it took me a long time to realise that I was totally immersed in these fetishes. I suppose I unconsciously tried to mould my wife into looking and behaving like my mother ... or rather like the way my mother did in my childhood. I tried to dress her as I wanted her to look ... old fashioned. I even convinced her to wear stockings for me (occasionally), and to walk about dressed only in bra, panties and stockings and suspenders. In the end my incest fantasies also began to surface, and I managed to persuade my wife join in with these ‘games’. In the heat of sex, for example, I encouraged her to whisper things like ‘fuck mummy’ or ‘mummy wants your big cock’ just as I was coming to orgasm. She was very obliging, but I guess she hated it. I’m sure she thought I was weird and perverted, and in the end this must have contributed to the end of our marriage. Well I guess I am both weird and perverted, and I would be deeply ashamed if it ... if it wasn’t for the fact that most people are just as weird and perverted as me ... it’s just they don’t admit it! About the same time as my marriage ended my Father fell ill, and died shortly after. Inevitably this brought Mother and I much closer together. She lived in a small bungalow in Cornwall, not far from the sea., and I would drive down at the weekends to comfort her. I suppose she also was seeking, in her way, to comfort me. We would sit in her small living room and talk about all sorts of things late into the Saturday night. On Sunday mornings she would bring me breakfast in bed. Later we would usually go for a walk along the cliff-tops, and then I would drive home again late in the evening. I started these visits more out of duty than anything else. My fetishes were just fantasies, and they seem to be separated from the real world (and my real mother) by some invisible, impenetrable wall. I never once had any conscious sexual thoughts during my visits ... at least not to begin with anyway. Over time, however, I began to look forward to (rather than dread as I had initially) these visits. Whatever else they were, they provided me with company and a chance to talk about myself and my problems. I never dreamed, however, where these conversations would ultimately lead. My Mother was 58 years old by now, but still slim and fairly graceful. To me at least she did not look old. She no longer seemed to try to dress attractively, however, as she had when I was young. Now she wore large baggy sweaters and trousers mostly. Her hair was tied back and she never wore make-up. Indeed it was only very late at night when we were still talking, and after she had bathed and changed for bed, that she ever seemed in any way female! Then her hair was let down, and she would wear a dressing gown over her night dress. This was the only time I saw her legs. But as the legs never wore stockings anymore, and as I never sat staring at the seams of those stockings (creeping secretly up to her thighs and to her almost always hidden stocking-tops, as I’d done as a boy), I never really looked very closely. Anyway, she was my Mother, and whatever fantasies existed in my perverted loins, they would never dare surface in her actual presence. But things changed one dark Saturday night in November. The weather, like the sea just a few hundred yards away, was wild and stormy. Rain spattered heavily in large uncompromising drops on my car as I approached her cottage. The wind, driving the rain in sheets almost horizontally, managed to soak my clothes entirely even in the short run from my car to her door. She opened the door, holding it with her foot against the insistent gale, and ushered me in. “Oh my goodness”, she exclaimed. “What an awful day!”. I stood there dripping on her carpet and said with a broad smile. “It certainly is. I feel like I’ve just been hit by a wave. It even tastes salty!.” She examined my clothes with concern. “You poor thing, you really are soaked. I think we’d better get you out of those wet clothes.” “Don’t worry Mother”, I answered with a smile. “I’m not that wet, and besides I don’t have anything else to wear”. “Rubbish”, she replied in her normal forceful manner. “I’ll run the bath for you, and while you’re having a soak I’ll slip your things in the dryer!” As I’d been late arriving, and as I really was both wet and chilled, and rather tired from the drive, I reluctantly agreed My clothes were not dry by the time I’d finished my bath, so Mother lent me a dressing-gown. After a simple meal we headed for the small lounge intending to sit warming ourselves in the two armchairs by the open fire. As Mother came in behind me she produced with a flourish a bottle white wine and two glasses. “You need warming up inside as well as out,” she said smiling. “I’m fine”, I said softly. “This cottage of yours is so cosy and warm I could just drift away”. “Well a glass of wine won’t stop that happening!” she laughed. Over the next hour or two we worked our way through the entire bottle, chatting amiably as we always did. Slowly the conversation deepened and mellowed, and we began talking about life in general, and our lives in particular. Finally she asked me a leading question, one I suspect she been wanting to ask for a long time. “Tell me John, what really happened to your marriage? You and Sheila seemed so right for each other ... I simply couldn’t believe it when you said you were parting.” I suppose I was tired and comfortable and slightly drunk. I was staring wistfully into the dying embers of the log fire. “Lots of reasons I guess,” I whispered. “We were very different in many ways. We wanted different things ... intellectually, emotionally, physically ...” Mother looked at me saying nothing. “My interests were different to hers I suppose, and she wanted me to be loving to her in a way that just didn’t come naturally to me. And I think that there were parts of me that I just couldn’t share with her.” “Are we talking emotionally here ... or physically”, Mother asked softly. I laughed, “Both I guess!” There was a moment’s silence, and the she said, “Tell me what you mean. I’m not sure if I understand.” “You don’t want to listen to all my problems” I murmured. “Especially not all my personal problems ...” “Yes I do ... tell me.” I was so comfortable, warm and relaxed that I forgot, I suppose, who exactly it was I was talking to. I began to ramble, slowly spilling out my problems and with them some of my frustrations. “Women can be so damn difficult. They change from day to day, and what was right and good yesterday is wrong and bad today. I could never seem to please her. Early on I tried as hard as I knew how ... rushing home from work, taking her out, spending as much time with her as I could. But the more time I spent with her, the more she wanted. But at the same time she never really seemed happy, contented ... satisfied, although the fact that she didn’t ever satisfy me seemed irrelevant!” I paused musing to myself. “None of that’s true really I guess. It was all my fault ...” Mother downed what was left of her drink and reached for the bottle. It was empty and she tutted to herself. Then she said, “I don’t think it was all your fault at all John, it always takes two to make a relationship, and two to break up. Your Father and I had many ups and downs, but while we both hung in there it worked.” I glanced up at her. “It’s not the same” I whispered. “If I’d have been married to you, I’d have made it work too!” She put the bottle down and looked at me quizzically. “I guess that was part of the problem for me,” I went on dreamily. “She was not you, and could never be. I suppose I moulded the woman I wanted to spend my life with on my experiences with you. You were so caring, so strong, so feminine ... so damn sexy!” “Sexy!!”, the word exploded from my Mother’s lip in genuine surprise. Suddenly I came back to the reality of where I was and who I was with. “Err ... I mean ... er ... feminine”, I spluttered. I suddenly felt very embarrassed. I’m sure I went bright red. Inside I felt like I’d been caught masturbating by my mother, pleasuring myself over a dirty picture ... only in this case it was worse. The dirty picture was actually a picture of my Mother, dressed in flimsy and exotic clothing! I squirmed inside, not knowing what to say. I kept my gaze firmly on the fire and said nothing else. But Mother had noticed my embarrassment, and was looking at me strangely. “Sexy?”, she said again. “Did you really think me sexy?” I said nothing. “Well I suppose I was trying to be sexy sometimes ... for your Father,” she mused. “He had definite ‘likes’ you know.” I glanced up. “Likes?” She smiled warmly, and I suddenly realised that she knew instinctively that I was embarrassed and she trying to help me by re-directing the focus of this suddenly dangerous conversation. “He liked me to dress up in certain ways for him,” she said with a smile. “You’re a man, you know what I mean. All men have particular or specific tastes. Your father liked his women to dress ‘strong and sexy’.” “Oh ...” I said simply, uncertain where to go with this. “Er ... how did you feel about that?” I suppose I expected her to say that she ‘put up with it’, or maybe ‘got used to it’, or even ‘went along with it ‘cos it made him happy’. But what she actually said was totally unexpected. “ Oh, me ... I loved it!” she said with a soft laugh. “It is so nice to drop all your inhibitions sometimes, and follow your physical desires. Your Father loved me very much, and the more I pandered to his fantasies the more he loved me. And you know there is nothing more erotic than turning somebody else on. So, yes, I loved every moment of it..” I was fascinated, and before I could stop myself I had asked the question that had popped into my head. “Did he ever pander to your desires?” She looked at me with mock shyness. “What a question John!” I stuttered, embarrassed again. “Oh ... I didn’t mean ...” “Oh yes you did!” She said laughing out loud. “Don’t get so worried, I’m only pulling your leg!” I smiled shyly at her. “And of course he pandered to my fantasies. That’s what love is all about isn’t it?” “Not in my case”, I whispered softly to myself. But she heard me. “So Sheila didn’t approve of your sexual needs. Don’t be so embarrassed about it. It’s a common enough problem. Many women are brought up to believe that sex is ultimately dirty, and that anything off the beaten track should be resisted. And for a lot of women they can never get past that. The truth, however, is that NOTHING is dirty if it’s part of a loving relationship.” I looked at my Mother again. She may have been old and shabbily dressed, but those bright caring eyes still made her look so damn sexy. “As I said, if only She’d been more like you.” I said to her softly. Her eyes shone warmly at me. “We need another drink”, she said, and promptly got up to find some more wine. “So”, she said gently, after we were refreshed with more alcohol. “What are these ‘terrible’ sexual fantasies of yours?” “MOTHER!” I exclaimed. “I can’t tell you my sexual fantasies!” “Why ever not dear?” she replied evenly. “Well for a lot of reasons”, I answered. “It’s not ‘proper’ for a start! It’s a bit too personal as well ... and ...” “And what, dear?” “Well ... well ... there are some things ... that ...” “Oh for goodness sake John, we both grown up you know. I don’t think there is anything you could say that would shock me. Or are you worried that I’ll think less of you ... that I’ll think you’re ‘dirty’ or something?” I looked up at her unsure what to say. “Please let me assure you that I am a human being too. I know about life and I know about sex, and nothing you could say would worry me or make me think any less of you. You think I don’t know you?” “Yes ... I know, and I thank you Mother ... it’s just some things are ...” “Are what?” “Too close ... if you know what I mean.” She sat back in her chair toying with her glass of wine. She was obviously considering just what I might mean by that comment. “Too close ...” she repeated. “To you, you mean?” “To both of us ...” I whispered. “Ah”, she said. “I think I understand.” “Do you?” I mused out loud. “Forgive me if I’ve misunderstood, but are you saying that you’ve had fantasies about ... about me?” I was silent. But my lack of denial answered her question. “Incest ... is that what you mean?” “Oh God!” I whispered, putting my face in my hands. “Shh dear ...” she leaned forward patting my knee. “It’s not as unusual or strange as you think. Don’t you think that I had occasional sexual thoughts about you too ... as you were growing up? Well I did you know. There were even times when I masturbated myself to thoughts of your young body”. I looked up at her in amazement. “You did ...?” She smiled broadly at me. And then gazing into the fire she whispered, “Oh yes ...oh yes!” II For a while there was a long thoughtful silence, and then she said; “So you see it’s quite safe for you to tell me your fantasies.” I must have looked exactly as I felt ... distinctly uncertain! “C’mon dear, have another glass of wine to give you the courage to tell me all about it”. I took the wine glass but my eyes avoided hers. “I don’t know ...” I began. “It’s both difficult and embarrassing to talk about such things. I ... I don’t want to offend you ... or insult you ... or ...” “Or what?”, she asked gently. “Oh dear!!”, I sighed deeply. “I suppose I don’t want to reveal my deepest thoughts ... and urges. I don’t want to spoil your memories of the past. Make you see them differently ... and it is very hard to reveal something that exposes your weaknesses to someone you love. If you know what I mean?” To my surprise she laughed, and I began dimly to understand that she was actually enjoying the situation in some way. But I wasn’t entirely sure why. “I’m glad you think it’s funny” I said, somewhat grumpily. “Oh John! John!”, she said still chuckling to herself. “I am an old woman now and you’re a mature man, we both ought to know that sex is just one of life’s dimensions. My God, everyone has extreme fantasies. They imagine doing things they could possibly do in real life. That’s the attraction of fantasy ... the excitement!” “Yes”, I said. “But talking about it ... bringing out into the open, that makes it ... more real.” “Hmm”, she said thoughtfully. “And that worries you?” “Yes ... of course!” “Why ... are you afraid that talking about it in front of me will ... well ... turn you on?” “MOTHER!!” I exclaimed. “How can you say that? Are you trying to humiliate me!?” “NO ... no, of course not.” She lent forward and patted my knee again. “I was actually trying to help you. You said that these thoughts ... these feelings ... had affected your marriage. Maybe it’s time to talk about them ... to work them through?” “Work them through?”, I exclaimed, looking up at her for the first time since this conversation had begun. “What do you mean?” She looked away from me and shrugged her shoulders and said nothing for a moment. Then she said slowly, “I don’t know really ... I’m not sure. Maybe it’s I that shouldn’t be saying these things?” For a long time we both sat in silence staring at the fire. But for me the meaning, the implication of her words, was slowly filtering through. As I sat there I suddenly realised that I was hard ... that my cock was rigid in my trousers ... and that my heart was starting to beat very fast indeed. I wondered to myself if I had misunderstood just what she was saying ... what she was seemingly ... albeit vaguely ... suggesting. And then quite suddenly I made an inner choice. I took a deep breath and consciously relaxed back into my chair. “I don’t remember exactly”, I began with an effort, “when my love for you as my mother changed into something else. I think if I had to locate it I would say that it’s when father was away in France ... and you let me sleep in your bed because I had nightmares. One night when you were asleep and I was cuddling you, my hand touched your breast ... and then I spent the rest of the night inching more and more of my hand around it ... until I was cupping it entirely. It’s the first time I ever remember being ‘turned on’, so to speak”. Mother said nothing, but remained looking at the fire. “A few days later I came into the bedroom as you were getting undressed, and you didn’t stop or try to cover yourself. I have this clear image, even now, of you standing tall in a white bra and panties and suspenders and stockings, and black high-heeled shoes. You walked around for a while dressed that way, and even cuddled me for a moment. I can still see the cleavage of your breasts in that bra, right in my face, and still hear the sound of your nylons rubbing together as you sat on the bed. I was intrigued, fascinated. I even dreamt about you ... about making you taking you clothes off for me, just so I could look.” “I never realised ...”, she began. “I am so sorry John ...” I guess that moment was a pivotal point in our conversation. But, as I had already, if only half-consciously made the choice of where we might to go with this, I tried to change the mood. “Oh no Mother”, I said softly, but with a grin. “There’s nothing to be sorry about. I had a lot of fun, and a great deal of pleasure thinking about you and your wonderful body!”. I wondered what she would say ... which way she would take the conversation now. I think I even held my breath for a moment. For a while she was silent, looking at me. I met her eyes, but trying not to hide the glint that was now beginning to grow in them. At last she whispered “So you thought about me when you masturbated?” I nodded. “Always”, I said. Another pause, and then she said gently, “And mummy never knew ...” Something in the way she said the word ‘mummy’ sent an electric thrill through my whole body. “And what did you do to me in your fantasies?” she asked at length. “Well ... “I began, and faltered. “Tell me”, she whispered softly. “Tell mummy ...”, and I felt my erection leap uncontrollably at the word. What was she doing? Where were we going? Did I want to go there? She laid her hand on my knee, very softly and whispered. “Tell me John ... Johnny... it will do you good ... it will do us both good.” And suddenly I knew without a shadow of doubt that wherever it was I did want to go there ... that I wanted to go there very much indeed! III After a long, highly-charged, silence I began to answer her last question. “In one of my fantasies I learn the art of hypnosis ... and I test it on you ...” She lent back into her armchair and rested her hands back on her waist. I glanced at her face and saw the beginnings of a long slow smile starting to caress her lips. “Oh yes ...”, she murmured. “Yes,” I replied. “I would take you into a deep hypnotic trance ... and then make you do all sorts of things for me.” Getting To Know You A friend and I emailed erotic fantasies to one another. The two stories below are the actual emails that we sent to each other. I hope you enjoy reading the following stories as much as we enjoyed writing them. Part 1 This is one way I could meet you..... I would come there on a plane, never letting you know I am in town. Watching you as you travel to and from work. Waiting one night as you leave from work to go home. I walk up to you in the parking lot with a small syringe in my hand. I make it look like I trip and fall into you poking you with the syringe full of sleeping medicine. You feel something sting your arm and you grab it, but you get lethargic and sleepy fast. I walk you over to my car that's just a few feet away and lay you down in the back seat. I drive to the house I rented that's far away from anyone else, so no one will hear you scream. I pull into the garage, you are still sound asleep in my back seat as I go into the house and get the wheel chair. I pull and tug you until you are half hanging in the chair and wheel you into the house and down into my basement. I get your body on my table I had especially made for times like this. I tie your wrists to one end and your ankles to the other. Making you spread eagle on the table. I tie a ball gag around your mouth and wait for you to wake up. It doesn't take long until you are trying to move around and quickly wake up when you can't move. I see your eyes pop open and I smile. "So you're finally awake?" I say as I run my long nails down the front of your shirt. You try and say something through the ball gag but it comes out muffled and I laugh. I turn to my small table and grab a box cutter. I roll it around in my hands as your eyes get bigger looking at the menacing instrument. I come toward you with it and you shake your head violently as I put the tip of the knife at your groin. You lay very still your breathing very heavy, your shaking all over not knowing what I am going to do. I make a small tear in your pants and rip them all the way down the sides. I do this on both sides and then start in the middle. I do this until your pants are falling off your body. Then I put the tip of the knife at your throat and slide it underneath your shirt as I rip the material down the front. I rip the sleeves until you are laying there on my table wearing nothing but your underwear. Then I lightly trail the tip of the box cutter along the length of your hard cock that is visible through your underwear. I see a shiver go through your body. You try and say something but I can't understand cause of the gag. "Would you like me to remove the gag?" I ask as I trail the knife down your hard cock again. You shake your head violently. I take the knife and cut the cord that holds it in your mouth and you spit it out. "Please, why are you doing this? What do you want? I'll do anything just don't hurt me." I smile cause that's exactly what I want to hear. "I'm going to keep you hear and you are going to do everything I tell you or no one will ever find your body. Do you understand what I'm saying?" I ask as I point the tip of the knife at your groin again. "I'll do whatever you want." I slip the knife under your underwear and rip it until it lays flat under you. Your cock is rock hard so I know this is turning you on, even if you are scared. I slip off all my clothes, climb up on the table and lower my pussy onto your face. You know you better do a good job licking me or you might not get your next breath. I bend over and take your hard cock in my mouth as you lick my wet pussy, I can feel your moan as you lick me. I know you are enjoying my mouth on your cock cause you are licking my pussy furiously. I grab your balls and squeeze a little harder than you care for and I hear you gasp. I press my pussy in your face and you know what I want but you are scared of what I am doing. I slip my mouth over your cock once again and I feel the tension leave your body, I let you relax just a little before I bite your cock head making you tense up and pull against the restraints. You don't know what I might do. I lift myself from your face, your breathing hard and not knowing what to expect. I turn around and slip my pussy down over your hard cock, fucking myself slowly with it. You are just a fuck toy for me. I speed up ever so often making you think I will let you cum only to slow down again, driving you nuts. Then all at once I get off the table and go over to the table that is behind your head. You cannot see what is back there and I grab an 8 inch vibrating dildo. I grab the lube, greasing the dildo up as I walk back around so you can see what I have in my hands. Your eyes grow as big as tennis balls when you see what I have. Your not sure what I am going to do with it. You are hoping like hell that I am going to use it one myself but you know deep down somewhere that's probably not what's going to happen. "Have you ever been ass raped?" I ask, kneeling down near your feet. Your heart drops right out the back side of the table, you know what's coming next. "No, please don't put that in me. I'll do whatever you want, just please don't do that." Your begging makes me want to do it all the more. I know there is nothing you can do to stop me from raping your ass now. But I figure I will give you a choice. "You have a choice. I can either shove this huge rubber cock in your virgin ass in one smooth stroke, which by the way will hurt like hell. Or You can beg me to fuck your ass slowly and I will take some time to prepare you so it doesn't hurt so much." I look up at you while holding the dildo in my hands. "What's it going to be?" "Please don't do this." You beg. I laugh, knowing you have sealed your fate. "Well I guess you have made up your mind. " You look confused for a moment, then all at once you realize what I mean but it's too late. I take the huge rubber dildo and shove it hard up your ass as you let out a shriek. "Noooooooooooooo, stooooopp, please....oh my god...your hurting me!" you scream as I push it in you then pull it out only to shove it back again harder. I do this several times before I get tired of hearing you scream. I shove it all the way into your ass, turn the vibrator on and leave it there, while I climb back up onto your cock and fuck myself until I cum. Which doesn't take long since you have made me extra horny hearing your moans of pain. You ass is getting used to the stinging, stretched full feeling. But I'm not done yet. I go back over to my table and get some more lube for the dildo. I pull it out and lube it up while smiling at you, a very wicked grin making you wonder what I have in store for you next. I tease the outside of your ass before slowly sliding the dildo back in your ass all the while looking you straight in the eye. You think you are used to the feeling but something is different. Oh yes, something is very different. It hurts! It stings! your ass feels like it's on fire and you don't understand. "Ah yes, you feel it now don't you? That's what Icy hot will do when rubbed on a dildo before inserting it in your ass. Don't worry it won't cause any permanent damage but it will hurt like a mother." I tell you as I grab another gag, force it in your mouth to keep from hearing the sobs that are coming from you now. Tears are streaming down your face from the pain in your ass, but that just makes me more hot. Your cock is still hard and you can't help it. I still have some Icy Hot on my fingers and as I reach for your cock you squirm and pull frantically against the ropes holding you at my will. You are shaking your head and screaming through the gag as I grab your cock and start pumping furiously. I know it hurts, and it feels good. Pain and pleasure. Your balls are so tight and you want to cum so bad but it hurts. I pump faster and faster, you can feel the tightness in your balls and you know you are going to cum and suddenly you do. But I don't stop pumping your cock. Your cock is so sensitive and sore and you just want me to stop, you'll do anything if I just stop. I finally take my hand from your sore cock. "I am going to untie one of your hands, and then I am going to leave. I should be long gone by the time you are up and untied, don't look for me and don't try to find me, if I find out you tried to come after me, the next time will be far worst.. Do you understand?" You shake you head yes and I untie your hand and leave. Part 2 .......his fantasy. I might blindfold you and throw you in the back of a truck, take you up to the mountains where the air itself seems to bite you. I rip the clothes from your body, making you feel the wind on your soft pale skin. It howls up at this elevation. It pulls at your hair and bites at your swollen nipples. I place the rough ropes in your hand so you can feel them before I tie you. "What do you want!!!?" you shriek. I remove your blindfold, point to a video camera, place my finger on your lips then slowly move it toward me until it is pointing at my crotch. You shake your head no violently. "Then I will just have to take your ass." I say softly, matter of factly. "But I am not going to make you on film. By the time I am done, you will be begging for me to do it." You cry and beg and plead until I get irritated and tie a leather gag in your mouth. Then I roughly stand you up and force you to the tree, tying your hands around it in an embrace. "Tree hugger" I laugh at my own joke and walk off. I don't even turn my head as I hear you screaming through the gag. In my cabin a mile away, I can hear the rain pounding on the tin roof. I can only imagine you out there in the dark, rain and wind pelting your shivering, nude body, your hair hanging over your face as you struggle for warmth. I drive back up to where you are. Somehow you are in some half sleep, half awake state even as you are invitingly on your hands and knees, your head resting on the tree. Your skin is soaking wet, your knees and legs covered in mud. Damn you look hot like that. I pour ice water on you to wake you up. What a shock to your system! Ice and freezing water cascading down your back, down your tits, between your legs. You shiver and I remove the gag. Words cannot escape your mouth. You are shivering so badly. I hold up a blanket and a thermos of coffee. You look at me eagerly, like an animal. Sticks and leaves are strewn in your hair and your teeth chatter so badly all you can do is grunt and point. "After I take your ass." I said calmly "On tape. But first you beg me." You begin to cry, but I smack your ass. No tears in the video. This has to be willing and pleasurable looking. You meekly look down and I give you a little coffee, untie you, and turn on the tape. You look at me from your knees. "Please fuck my ass. Please do it! I need it." I remain silent as you beg and plead and even press your self onto the ground in front of me. Now you are dirty, covered in leaves, dirt, and mud. One orange leaf remains stuck to your nipple. How sexy! "Okay if you really want me to." I say as I move into camera shot, stripping and lubricating myself. I pull in behind you and jam myself in quickly. You grunt and squeal in pain as I drive it in hard. You feel so dirty, so used, so ashamed. And it's on tape! What will I do with this? I grab your hips and yank them back on me, grunting myself. I fuck you harder and harder. I hear your big and wet tits slapping together. What a turnon! So I jam it deeper and harder into you. I fuck you so hard your arms give way and you fall face forwards into mud. I keep relentlessly driving into you until you are flat on your stomach, feeling my thrusts push you into the ground. You spit dirt from your mouth as you feel me filling you up. How slutty and dirty and whorish do you feel because you cannot help screaming in pleasure. I pull out, flip you over and slide into your pussy, you grab me like I have always been your lover and pull me close. You bring your hips off the ground as I fall to meet you. We kiss deeply and violently as we roll together in the mulch of the forest. You scream in ecstasy and I pull out to come on your tits, then reach down to rub the gooey stuff in. We lie together, hot as fire on a cold fall day. I own you now of course, but you no longer care. I hope you enjoyed a peek into our fantasy's. Please Vote and/or feel free to send me comments, I will pass them along to my friend as well. Getting to Know You 'Today I tell him the truth.' Nyla thought to herself as she traced her eyelids with black eyeliner. She was going to tell her husband of six months who and what she truly was. Nyla Jefferies was a whore and she loved it. She just didn't love, she needed it. They had known each other for years before they married and even when they were friends she never told him of her dark, slutty desires. She stood up from her vanity in their green and chocolate mint colored room and looked at herself in the mirror. Her thick dark hair was teased and her lips painted dark red. Her red lace bra and panties complimented her caramel skin tone as he high heel red shoes that laced up her legs lifted her round ass. It was 4:30. Her husband, Matthew, would be home in 30 minutes. He was predictable. That's what she love about him even though it was annoying at times. She knew him inside and out, which is why she packed her overnight bag. She had a feeling that her conservative husband wouldn't want her anymore when he found out who she really was. She was prepared to leave and give him a divorce. It would hurt because she loved him so much but she couldn't live a lie. To anyone who saw them they were a happy couple. They really didn't have any problems. The only problem she noticed was their sex life. Sure sex was great. Well not great, but good. Good and normal. He would look at her with desire in his eyes as she would remove each piece of clothing slowly, teasing him. He would cover her body with kisses and fondle her breasts. She loved it when he would kiss her lips and then continue to her nipples, taking the time to circle them with his tongue and suck on them gently. He would then continue kissing her until he reached the spot between her legs. He would hold her thighs in his powerful hands and lick her pussy inside and out, leaving her breathless. He would suck her clit and flick it with her tongue until she shook with an orgasm. Her wetness covering his tongue, his lips, his beautiful face. The memory of her husband covered in her wetness in her scent caused her to wet her red lace boy shorts. She slipped her hand inside her panties and rubbed her clit before slipping her fingers into her cunt. That's what she was. A dirty slutty cunt that deserved to be fucked hard without mercy. She fingered herself faster as she place a foot on her vanity chair. She felt her body begin to tremble as she was approaching her climax. She thought about her husband fucking her hard while her hands were tied to the headboard and his strong hands around her neck. His face red and his eyes full of lust as he called her a dirty whore. She imagined him calling her a cheap slut not even worth his piss. She pictured herself begging for him to come inside her and him saying that he's going to come. She pictured him pulling his rock hard cock out her wet pussy and coming on her face and laughing at her. She came at the though of her husband wiping the cum off his dick with her hair and then leaving her tied up to go shower only to come back with his camera phone to take pictures to show his friends what a whore his wife was. Nyla licked her cum off her fingers and frowned. Her husband was nothing like this. He was a kind and gentle man. Corrupting him with her lifestyle seemed selfish and she loved him to mush to be selfish. She heard the house door open and looked at the clock. Five O'clock like everyday her worked. "Nyla, baby! I'm home!" Her husband announced as she heard him close the front door. "I'm upstairs baby!" She called down to him from the bedroom." She took a seat at her vanity and waited for him to come into the room. She didn't bother changing her clothes or her mind. She had to tell him or risk a life of unhappiness. Matthew walked through the door handsomely dressed in a three piece suit. He was an executive at a advertising firm and lived the lifestyle it provided. When he walked through the door his eyes widened as he looked at his wife. "Umm..this is new." he finally spoke as he closed the bedroom door behind him. "I need to tell you something." Nyla said, not moving from her spot on the chair. "Maybe you should sit down." "Okay..." Matthew took a seat on the bed. His blue eyes slightly worried, his black hair tousled from running his hands through it too many times. "What is it? What's wrong?" Nyla took a deep breath. "Me. I'm what's wrong." "How so? Baby you're perfect." "I only seem that way but I'm not. Matthew I'm a whore." She looked at him and saw the confusion in his face. "What? You're sleeping with other men!" "NO!" she exclaimed. "I wouldn't dare but..." "But what? He cut her off. "How the fuck are you a whore!" He jumped off the bed and pulled her up off the chair to face him. "Because of what I need. Because I what I love. I love you Matthew but I love being a whore." Matthew shook his head and let her go as he took a seat on the bed. "I'm not understanding this, Nyla. What is going on?" "I love you so much, Matthew, you need to know that but this is who I really am. You're so use to seeing me in cotton panties and bras and ponytails I had to show you who I really am. I like our sex life but I need more." "More? What more do you need? I thought you were happy!" He yanked his tie from around his neck and took off his jacket and threw them both on the floor. "I am happy but I need more. You're so gentle and so nice to me. I need you not to be so nice to me." Her husband stared at her in disbelief. He shook his head and stood up. "Are you saying that I'm too nice? Are you saying that I need to beat the hell out of you for you to be happy?" She stood up and walked over to him. He stopped pacing and looked at his wife. "I'm saying that I need you to fuck me hard, not make love to me gently. I want you to tell me I'm a filthy bitch and a cheap slut. I want you to tear off my clothes and pull my hair. I want you to forget about getting me wet with your tongue and spit on my pussy and shove your rock hard cock in me hard. I want you to lick my asshole and put your fingers in my ass while you fuck me doggy style like a bitch in heat. I need you to-" Matthew grabbed his wife by the neck and slammed her against the wall. She looked back at him in shock. She opened her mouth to say something but he cover her mouth with his and kissed her deeply. He kept one hand around her neck and used the other to pull roughly at her panties. Nyla felt her panties tear and fall. He pulled back from their kiss and stuck two fingers in her wet mouth. She began to gag and he pulled them out and plunged them into her cunt. She gasped and arched her hips toward him, trying to meet his quick thrust. Matthew tightened the grip his had on his wife's throat and smiled and for the first time Nyla saw pure lust in her husband's eyes. "You like that don't you? You fucking slut!" Nyla didn't answer. He stopped fucking her pussy with his fingers and threw her on the bed. Nyla watched as her husband took off his pants and boxers. His cock was so hard. "What are you doing looking at it? Get over her and suck it bitch!" Nyla got up of the bed and began to walk to him when her husband stopped her. "I want you to crawl. Get on your fucking knees and crawl over here and get a mouthful of my dick." Nyla smiled and fell to her knees and crawled over to her husband. She reached up to grab his cock but he slapped her hand away and told her she could only use her mouth, not her hands. So she licked his swollen balls and ran her tongue up and down her husband's shaft before taking him into her mouth. She bobbed her head as she happily sucked her husband's rock hard dick. She looked up at him and into his eyes. The dangerous look in his eyes made her pussy so wet. She sucked his cock for about a few minutes until he told her to stop. He grabbed her by her hair and dragged her to the bed. "You want to be a dirty whore?" "Yes" Oh Fuck yes!" He laid on his back on the bed and scooted until his ass was on the edge of the bed. With his legs open, knees up but his feet planted firmly on the bed he commanded his wife to eat his ass. Matthew smiled as he felt his wife's hot tongue pushing against his tight hole. He stroked his dick as he felt his wife's soft hands spread open his ass cheeks. Her tongue now poking inside his asshole. She was being such a good little slut so he thought he should reward her. He told her to stop licking his ass and sat up on the bed. He told his wife to keep her mouth open and stick her tongue out. As soon as her tongue was out he grabbed her head and pushed it onto his dick. He started to fuck her face. Her sounds muffled by his big dig. He shoved his cock deep into her mouth until his ball hit her chin the head of his cock he the back of her throat. He heard her gag and pulled out, letting her taking a quick breathe and then pushed his dick all the way back in again and this time he held her there and enjoyed the sound of her gagging. He pulled all the way out and pushed her unto the floor. Matthew crawled on top of her and roughly pushed her legs apart and forced his dick inside he pussy. "You dirty bitch! You like that don't you , you little fuck!" He slapped the side of her face. "Yes! I like it!" Nyla cried out. He wrapped his fingers around her throat and slapped the side of her face again and again. "Fucking whore!" He screamed at her. "Are you a cheap whore?" "Yes!" He let got of her neck and pinched her nipples. Nyla gasped as her husband pinched and pulled her nipples. The pain caused her to scream out in pleasure. This is what she wanted. Her screams got louder and her husband's thrust became more rapid. He let out an inhuman growl as he came inside of her. For a moment neither one of them said a word. He pulled out of her and smiled seeing her happy face. "I could get use to this she said." "The sooner the better." he smiled. "Cause this is what you're getting all the time." "Anything else you want to tell me Nyla?" he asked her as he laid down on the floor beside her. "Well are you okay with this, really?" Matthew nodded. "I actually always wanted to try it but I was nervous about how you would feel about it. Now that I know you love it. I can be happier. We can be happier." "Then I'm happy." Nyla smiled. "What about you? Anything forbidden you feel the need to indulge in? Matthew bit his bottom lip. "Well there is one thing...." --------To be continued...-------