5 comments/ 60554 views/ 14 favorites Blonde By: Witchazel This is a complete work of fiction, really. * "What the hell is it about blondes?" I seethed as I slammed the car door. I had just been dumped. Now, I will admit I'm not the hottest girl in town. I have mousey brown hair and I wear glasses, but I'm not fat, I'm athletic, no warts on my chin or anything, I'm smart and I'd like to think I'm interesting. Ok, so I was whining, I'm allowed, I'd been dumped for a fat, scraggly, blonde with braces on her teeth. Argh By the time I'd climbed the two flights of stairs to the apartment I shared with my brother, I was out of gas and near tears. Softly I opened the door and slipped inside. There was my brother, six feet of pure gorgeous, sitting on the sofa with his cock in hand, watching a porno. Open mouthed, I watched as he slowly stroked that delight, feeling myself get wet and feeling weird about it, then I saw the TV. Some guy with a dick like a horse was banging away on some blonde. Another goddamned blonde! "Tell me something, Con," I sighed as I plopped into a chair where I could see both him and the TV. His reaction was priceless and I laughed out loud as he jumped so hard he nearly tore off his own penis. There he sat, cock still clutched tightly in hand, his beautiful blue eyes wide like a startled deer, and his mouth working soundlessly. Finally he got some air in and shouted at me. "For Christ's sake, Jean, what the hell are you doing here?" "I live here, pretty boy. I got dumped, so I came home. Now, what the hell are you doing here, cock in hand, on Friday night?" "Same as you," he muttered as he tried to cover himself. "No date, just me and Lefty." "Don't tell me, Sadistic Sadie, the blonde bitch from hell, stood you up again?" "Ok, so I won't tell you," he sighed as he covered his now limp dick with a cushion and turned back to the TV screen. The blonde was now swallowing the guy whole with a big grin on her face. I sighed too. "This turns you on huh?" I asked after a few awkward moments of silence. "So, is that a crime?" he replied sullenly. "No, I guess not. Con, can you tell me something?" "What?" "I need some answers, and I need the god's honest truth, can you do that for me?" "What's up, Sis?" he asked, concern clear in his voice as he turned to face me. Ever my protector, my dear little brother. All embarrassment forgotten in his need to nurture me. I loved this handsome young man far too much, and wished to hell he was anybody else's brother but mine. Ah crap, he would never look at me anyway, I'm not blonde. "Conrad, god's truth now, do you think I'm attractive?" Bless his golden heart, he took the time to look me over. I blushed a bit and, god help me, started to get wet. "Yes I do, Jeanie," he replied at last, "very attractive." "Thanks for that, sweetie," I sighed. "So, now tell me what the fuck is so special about blondes. Don't screw around now, Con, I need to know. Look at that damned TV and tell me why that girl is so special. I know you picked this one because she is a blonde." "Busted," he sighed. "Jeannie, I have no good answer for you. I don't. All I know is, if a blonde girl walks by, my head turns. Just the thoughts of running my fingers through that golden hair makes me weak in the knees." "You and every other guy on the planet," I groused. "I know it shouldn't matter," he went on, "but it does." He was looking at the screen now where the blonde was getting it from behind, and obviously loving it. She was begging for more. It was disgusting, worse yet, it was turning me on. I watched for a minute, getting wetter all the time, then I glanced back at my beautiful brother, a man any woman should be willing to kill to have. There was a tear in his eye. That broke me, killed my horny mood, and stirred all my maternal instincts. "Con?" "It just isn't fair, Jeannie," he choked out. "That guy on the screen is tossing her around like junk, and I'd kill for just one date with a girl like that." That did it. My brain nearly exploded with the craziest, nastiest, idea I had ever had. Dear gods, I could be jailed for what I was thinking, but the devil on my shoulder said go for it then shot the angel off the other shoulder. "What would you do with her, Con?" I asked softly, my eyes riveted as his hand strayed back to his newly hardened cock. I licked my lips, suddenly very horny all over again. "What do you mean, Jeannie?" he asked softly, still completely distracted by the TV where the girl was now taking it up the ass. "What would you do with her? Where would you take her on this date? How would you treat her?" "Why?" he asked as he turned to me again. "I know somebody, a blonde, who is single at the moment," I lied. "I could set you up, but you'd better treat her like a lady." "Are you serious? Jeannie?" Christ, he looked like a kid in a candy store, his dick still in his hand. I just had to smile. "Yes, I'm serious, Con. She's out of town right now, but will be back soon. I can set you up, but, best behavior." "Jeannie, you're a goddess. Best behavior, I promise. No roving hands, or..." "Look, she will probably want sex, maybe after a date or two, but she doesn't like rough stuff, and she likes to be treated respectfully." "I got it, Jeannie, I got it. You know I'm not into the rough stuff. Can you really set me up?" "Yeah, I will, but it will cost you." "Anything, just name it." I was tempted to tell him to fuck me, but that would ruin everything. "You're on laundry duty for the next two weeks." "Deal. Jeannie, you're the best sister ever. Thank you for this." "Go back to what you were doing, Romeo," I sighed as I rose, went to kiss his head, then started down the hall, "I have to work in the morning." I also had to masturbate immediately. The very idea of what I was about to do had me soaking my jeans. I didn't see a lot of Conrad for the next few days, but what I did see gave me more than one guilty twinge. He was so happy and excited, working lots of overtime so he could take his date to some special place. For my part, I'd been making plans of my own, and spent a small fortune on clothes, shoes, and the major makeover that was booked for the next Friday. I'd already told Con that Ellen would meet him at the apartment Friday night at six, and he was on his own from there. I took the day off Friday, and went to the salon for the full dye job. Yep, a nice light blonde, plus a manicure, pedicure, and even had my pussy waxed. Ouch. When all was done I raced home to get in the shower and shave my legs before Con got home from work. I was back in my room, quietly putting on my make up, when he returned. I heard him singing in the shower and giggled, trying to picture his reaction when he first saw me. While he got ready, so did I. A tiny thong and matching push up bra went under a simple black dress, one very tight, yet stretchy, so I could move in it, and split up the side nearly to the hip, then four inch heels. I had forsaken my glasses for new contacts (tinted very blue). I fluffed up my new blonde locks, pulled the dress down to show far too much cleavage, and I was ready for the grand entrance. My poor hunk of a brother was standing near the door, waiting, as I came into the room from behind him. I turned slightly to the side, struck a pose to show lots of leg, then spoke. "Conrad?" I purred. He spun around like a cat, then his jaw dropped. I was instantly wet as his eyes roamed over my body, but always coming back to the blond hair. Finally it sank in that it was me, and he found his voice. "Jeannie?" "Ellen," I replied in a sexy tone as I swayed towards him. "Plain Jeannie is gone. Do you like it?" "Oh god yes, you are hot. I mean, Jeannie, what is going on?" "You wanted a blonde, sweetie, and I wanted a real man who would be nice to me. So here I am, I'm blonde, I'm hot, horny, and I'm all yours. You can do whatever you want with me, just play nice." "Are you serious? Please don't tease like this, you know we can't do this." "Yes we can, and I want to, don't you?" I was in his arms now, breathing in his ear, and rubbing my thigh against his crotch. He was already hard, I could feel it through his jeans. "God forgive me, Jeannie, but yes I do want to, and I always have, but..." "No buts, Buster. You wanted a hot blonde, now you've got one. So, what are you going to do with her?" That's when he did it, and I became a blonde, his blonde, forever. He took me in his arms and kissed me softly, although I could feel that he wanted more, lots more. "First I'm going to take her to dinner someplace nice," he whispered in my ear as he ran his lips lightly over my neck, "then I'll take her to a movie where we can neck in the dark, then I'll bring her home and make love to her in a way that will make her mine forever." "Oh gods, Con, can't we just skip to the last part right now?" I moaned softly. "Are you kidding? Woman, you are seriously hot; I am going to take you out and show you off. My god, I've got the world's sexiest blonde, and I'm going to make sure the world sees that. Every man who sees us will be hot for you, jealous of me, and I will love every bit of it." I was blushing with delight, and giddy with the excitement of it all, as he took me down to his car, put me in, then drove to the most expensive restaurant in town. They might have turned him away for wearing jeans, but all eyes were on me, and no one seemed to notice the jeans at all. Gods, how I loved being the center of attention for a change. It was all so magical, the meal, Con being so attentive, the eyes of the men following my every move as we entered, then again as we exited the restaurant. Once the movie started I cuddled into his arms, whispered in his ear that I'd give him a blow job if he wanted. He gently squeezed my breast, rubbed the nipple and whispered that he wanted to save the good stuff until he got me home. The goddamned movie seemed to go on forever, but finally ended. As we came through the door, I turned and stepped into his arms. I kissed his mouth softly, teasing his lips with my tongue, and slowly pushing my thigh between his to rub against his growing cock. "Sweetheart, that was a wonderful evening," I breathed as our lips slowly parted. "Now I want the rest of it. Go put that porno with the blonde back into the machine." "The porno?" "Yes, my delightful man, the porno. You have shown your blonde a good time, and now she is going to show you a good time. Your blonde is going to give you everything the girl in the porno gives her man. Go put it in the machine now." "Ok," he gulped softly, "but this will be different. He is way too rough with her, and I don't want that for you." "I'm all yours, Handsome, gentle, rough, or sweet, whatever way you want me, I'm all yours. Start the porno now." The movie started with the couple dancing, kissing, and slowly stripping each other. We followed suit and soon I had him stripped to the waist. At this part the guy tore off the girl's dress and pushed her onto her back on a couch. Con had other ideas. He kissed me deeply, taking my breath away, then as his tongue danced with mine, I felt the zipper of my dress slide all the way to the bottom. He gently pulled the straps off my shoulders, then unhooked my bra. I let them both fall to the floor and kicked them aside, all without breaking the kiss. We finally ran out of air and broke the kiss. He started kissing my neck and throat, working his way over to my shoulder then down to my breasts. My nipples were hard as bullets by this time, and I shivered with delight as he first kissed, then nipped, then sucked firmly on them. All this time his hands had found my ass and the thong that kept him from me. Slowly he worked it down over my hips as he kissed his way down my navel. "Con," I gasped, "I'll fall." "I won't let you fall, my darling blonde," he chuckled as he gripped my ass firmly and nudged my thighs apart with his nose. "Grab my hair and hang on tight." I moaned loudly then gasped as his tongue found my wet slit and began to probe me. I went animal then, all sense of the world gone as I grabbed his hair and began to grind my pussy onto his probing tongue. I mewled, moaned, groaned, and grunted, then let out a half stifled scream as my whole body locked up in temporary rigor, then all the bones turned to jelly and I began to melt towards the floor, wave after wave of sweet energy washing over me. I was swept up in strong arms then and held gently, lovingly, for a few moments, then I was laid very carefully on the sofa. As I lay basking in the afterglow of the most powerful orgasm I had ever experienced, Con took the remote and paused the movie. "We need a few minutes, my delight," he whispered as he kissed my lips softly. "But, I'm supposed to be...." "Resting and recharging your batteries," he grinned. "We've got all night, and I plan to use it. Take your time." "Take off your jeans," I grinned. "That should give me a recharge." He laughed as he unhooked his belt then slid his pants to the floor. His jeans landed on my abandoned dress as he kicked aside his socks and underwear. That beautiful cock was now proudly looking me over with its one good eye. I reached out to lightly stroke it with my fingers and it jumped in my hands as though it had been given an electric shock. "Mmm, yummie," I purred. "Start the film, Con honey, let's see what's next." As it started again, the guy grabbed the blonde by the hair and jammed his cock into her mouth. She made gagging sounds as he tried to feed her all of it. "Jeannie..." "Ellen," I corrected. "Ellen, you don't have to do this if you don't want to..." He got no further as I had risen up onto my knees and swallowed him whole, burying my nose in his pubic hair. "Mmmm," I hummed as I worked my tongue around his shaft. Dear gods he tasted good. I had wanted to do this forever, and I was determined to enjoy him. Eventually, I pressed my fingertip up into the soft flesh between the base of his shaft and his asshole, pulled back and tightened my lips as I worked on the head of his cock. He moaned and began to thrust gently into my mouth. He groaned again with some urgency and began to swell in my mouth. With a small squeal of delight, I swallowed him whole once again as he squirted down my throat. I sucked gently, milking him of every drop, until he began to melt, then I released him and guided him down onto the sofa beside me. It was my turn to pause the movie. "Oh my god, girl, that was amazing," he sighed contentedly. "So, you liked that? How am I doing as a blonde, descent blowjob?" "Blondie, that was the best ever, I have died and gone to heaven." "Well, you'd better get back here, because I'm gonna suck you until you get hard for me again," I giggled. I nuzzled down and slurped him back into my mouth. He gasped and began to harden immediately. A moment or two of gentle sucking later and my man was ready for more. I flicked on the movie to see the guy climb onto the girl and start banging away. Smiling with delight, I kissed Con and gently pulled him over onto me, wrapping my legs around him as I did. Con squirmed a bit as he got his knees under him, then he wiggled around a bit more until the head of his cock was just at my soaking wet entrance. I thrust up to meet him, but he pulled gently away, just keeping the tip in. he was driving me nuts and he knew it. "Patience, my beautiful blonde goddess," he breathed as he bent to kiss me again. His tongue teased my lips for a moment, then he firmly pushed into my mouth as he pushed deep into my pussy. I groaned with delight at this double invasion, wrapping my arms tightly around him and pulling him deeper into me. Con was supporting himself on his knees and one elbow, slowly working his cock in and out of my cunt while he worked his tongue in and out of my mouth, his free hand lightly caressing my body from my nipple down to my ass and back along my thigh, then back up again. I relaxed my mouth and my pussy to allow him in, then sucked on his tongue and tightened my pussy muscles to hold him there, to keep him from leaving. This seemed to go on forever, but eventually he began to speed up, fucking me with more urgency. I broke the kiss, gasping for air, moaned a few times then begged him to do it harder. "Harder, Con honey," I panted, feeling my own orgasm growing nearer, "fuck me harder. Please honey, do it harder." He was more than willing to oblige. Suddenly he tried to withdraw. "Jeannie, I'm gotta pull out," he gasped. "I'm gonna cum....." "No, no, no, don't you dare leave me," I gasped. "Let me feel you cum in me. Please baby, fill me up." I was gasping, panting, begging, and gripping him with my legs so he couldn't escape me. With a low animal growling groan he began to spurt into me just as my consciousness vanished in waves of ecstasy. I half screamed, half howled as the orgasm took me and threw me into another dimension. I slowly floated back to earth to hear his voice. "Let me up girl, I'm killing you," he panted. "Relax, Con, relax down here, I want to feel your weight on me now. You're not hurting me, lover, relax down onto me." I hugged him tight with both my arms and legs until he relaxed on me. God, he felt so good lying on me, his slowly shrinking cock still buried in my pussy. I kissed him lightly as I hugged him. After a few minutes I reached out and clicked the movie onto pause. Con rolled off, wedging himself between me and the back of the couch. I rolled to face him, we kissed, squirming as we did, until he was on the bottom and I was on top of him. We lay this way, kissing softly, murmuring words of love and delight, until we got our breath back. Con flicked the movie on again, the guy was deep in the girl's ass and she was begging for more. Gods, he was built like a horse, that girl impressed me all to hell. Thank god Con wasn't that big, he was big, but not cruel big. Ok, it was time to fess up. "Con honey, we're going to need lots of lube," I whispered as I kissed him lightly then reached out to pause the movie. "This is virgin territory you're going into." "My sweet Blonde darling," he smiled as he kissed my forehead, "you have already given me the greatest sex of my life. You do not have to do this." "I've wanted to explore this, Honey, but never found anybody I'd trust with it," I giggled. "I really want to give this to you, but you gotta slick me up." "Ok Blondie," he smiled as he squirmed out from under me, "a new tube of lube coming up." He disappeared into his room, then reappeared with the goods. Her found me with my ass in the air and a grin on my face. Now, there's never a good time, but this was the worst. Just as he started to take the cap off, I farted. Damn! Con started to laugh and I threw a cushion at him. "Lose all internal pressure did you?" he giggled as I tackled him. "If I'd been in there I'd have popped out like a champagne cork." We collapsed onto the floor with him on the bottom. He was tickling me and I was squirming and squealing, trying to escape. Suddenly the tip of his cock slipped into me. We both froze, gazing into each other's eyes. I grinned, licked my lips, and slid down his body until he was buried to the hilt in my pussy. I started humping and grinding away as our mouths sought each other. "To hell with the movie, Blondie, just keep doing what you're doing," he growled as he gripped my hips. I rode him hard for a few minutes then hopped off, spun around and stuck my ass up in the air. "Come on big boy," I purred, "come and fuck this blonde in the ass." He didn't need a second invitation. A moment later I felt the cool touch of the lube. Using the tip of his finger, he rubbed lightly all around my rim several times. It was driving me crazy and I pushed my ass back at him, trying to get him to enter me. Suddenly I felt his finger slip in with no resistance at all. I wanted more and told him so. Blonde More lube and a second finger slid in, uhhhnn, that filled me up. I relaxed as best I could and the discomfort went away quickly. Now it was feeling good, very different, but good all the same. "Ready Blondie?" he asked softly. "Oh yeah, take me, big fella, stick it in my ass." Brave talk, but I sure let out a hiss and a gasp as he pushed his cock in. He stopped and waited for a signal from me. A moment later the pain went away as I pushed back against him, slowly sliding him in until my butt cheeks bumped against his thighs. I could feel his balls against my butt and loved it. "Ok, Honey, now, do it now, fuck me, fuck my ass." As I said, he didn't need a lot of encouragement, and he began to fuck me with a firm stroke. It hurt a bit at first, but that soon disappeared as my fingers found their way between my legs to my clit. Oh yeah, now he was hitting all sorts of new spots inside me, my fingers we were working magic on my clit and a climax was rushing at me like a freight train. "Con, oh god Con, don't wait, Honey. Bang me, fuck my ass, fill me..." the nasty talk was supposed to push him over the edge, and it did, but it sent me over too. I felt him swell up and squirt just as my lights winked out. The world was all darkness and dancing lights as shock wave after shock wave coursed through my trembling body. I could feel his cock pumping me full even as I rode the waves of ecstasy. "Stay there Con," I begged as he put his arm around my waist and lowered me gently to the floor. "Please stay in there a bit longer." I rolled to my side and he went with me, spooning me, still inside me, holding me gently. We lay gasping for air until his now limp penis slipped out of me. Slowly, with lots of sweet kisses and exhausted giggles, we managed to regain our feet and make out way to the bathroom. He started the shower while I sat on the throne to pass his latest deposit. When I was ready he helped me into the shower then got in with me. He held me so gently and kissed me softly. "So, this is how you treat a blonde, is it, Buddy?" I purred softly from his shoulder, delighting in his touch, his kiss, and the hot water raining down over my body. "Yes ma'am, that it is," he grinned. "Great, where do I sign up?" "You already did, sweetheart," he breathed into my ear, "you already did. We can leave the rest of that movie for another day, I'm taking you to bed now." "Be still my heart," I purred. Con laughed. "Woman, you'll have me worn out before morning if you keep up. You don't have to use it all up in one night, there's always tomorrow." "Honest?" "Tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after that, and the day...." I stopped him with a deep kiss. That was a long time ago. Eventually we... "Hey Blondie, I'm home!" "That didn't take long, Con." "Are you kidding? We finally got the last of our kids off to college. I've got you all to myself again." "Oh yeah, so what are you going to do with this old blonde?" "I don't know, shall we watch a porno for inspiration?" Blonde It started quite innocently. Ok maybe I should rephrase that. There was not much innocent about the discussion I found myself deeply engaged in that evening. She was a blonde. Actually blonde always seems, at least to me as being hair that has a golden honey glow, long and straight. You get the idea. This woman's hair was white. Almost albino white. I could see she wasn't an albino from her skin colour and I could see a generous amount of it, including a décolletage that seemed to stretch right down to where I was expecting to see pubic hair appear. Now, i know that you have in your mind a screen goddess. Huge doe like eyes, slim, curvaceous. You are, aren't you? I can practically hear your thoughts. If you are a woman, it will be along the lines of "Tramp", "Tart", etc., etc. If you are guy of course it will be a raging torrent of confused shouting, moaning and downright naked lust. Well, then let me disabuse you of this image. She was, actually still is, short and muscular, with square boyish looks and hair cut short and spiky. The party was not the sort of thing I have any love for, but I had been lured into joining my partner for the "partners included" function for what was the end of a team building exercise by two things. One was that the farm where the whole event was being staged was in the high Karoom for me a major attraction, but the most important thing about this farm was that it had reputedly the best amateur astronomical observatory in the country. I had talked to an acquaintance from the astronomy club who had been granted a visit and he literally drooled, recounting in almost sexual terms the size and quality of the equipment mounted on the roof the triple garage. The centre piece of the observatory was a permanently mounted 24 inch Celestron Schmidt Cassegrain . . . Ok, I know, too much information. Just let me say that this was an observatory to be visited. To actually use it, you might have to sell your soul and that would probably be cheap at the price. It turned out that "The Blonde" was the astronomer and had the only key to the stairway grill gate and if I wanted to see the observatory I would have to sweet talk her into taking me up. Her name is Angie, but she will forever be "The Blonde" in my mind. Early in the evening before things could get seriously out of hand, I approached her and started an innocent conversation, slowly introducing the topic of astronomy, etc. etc. It turned out that I needn't have been quite so devious, she agreed almost immediately to show me. Or in her words, "Take you to paradise." The double entendre was as subtle as a sledge hammer. She stood far too close to me for comfort and her hands surreptitiously managed to make contact with parts of me that were not quite off limits, but bordering on it. Fleetingly I wondered if i should give up the attempt to visit the observatory or bring my non astronomically minded partner along as a chaperone. I decided, with much misplaced bravdo, that I could control the situation and so "The Blonde" and I set out for the observatory, alone. We got the grill gate and she extracted the key from a pocket and we went upstairs, not before she had firmly locked the gate behind us. The grill gate and surrounding fence were formidable and it struck me fleetingly that if I wanted to escape, I would have to jump over the edge of the garage. But it wouldn't come to that. I could hold my own. I hoped. In retrospect of course, it was a stupid thing to think. My marriage was in tatters and I hadn't had sex or even physical affection for far too long. I was boiling with hormones and would succumb far too easily. I suspect that deep down in my soul I knew that but I hid it from myself. To give "The Blonde" her due, she took me around the observatory first. Showed me all the instruments that were up there. The observatory has normal white lighting, but she switched on the red lights making for a decadent and dangerously edgy environment. Her hands were quick and had lost some of the surreptitiousness when were out of sight of the crowd. To put it bluntly as we stood and admired the big telescope housed inside the dome, she went into overdrive. Hands sweeping parts of me that hadn't been touched by anyone for far too long, her mouth glued itself onto mine. I was completely unable to resist the onslaught and before I knew it, our clothes were scattered across the floor and she was dragging me out of the dome to finish what she had started under the blaze of stars that can only happen in the deep Karoo. As we emerged, there was a loud, drunken giggle from nearby and she stopped dead in her tracks, looked carefully around and said, "They can't see up here and I locked that gate. What is going on?" We walked over to the edge of the garage roof and looked down. The attendees cars were all parked in haphazard fashion below us. My car was close to the garage wall in fairly deep darkness and a woman leant against it, with a man on his knees in front of her. "Giving head" is I believe the proper term for it. The woman was half heartedly pushing the man away, saying "No, no. You are married." She wasn't trying too hard and soon the "no, no" became a more guttural sound, then she signaled her surrender with a sibilant "Yesss". "That tart Mary. I recognise her voice. Wonder who she is fucking this time. Not the first time she has played fast and loose with a guest." "The Blonde" peered down but the darkness was such that we could not see any facial details. As soon as Mary said "Yess" the man turned her around, bent her over the car and from his movement, thrust deep inside her. Mary's voice said, "Condom" once and then the sound of his hips slapping her backside, her grunts and his breathing were all that could be heard. The man remained silent until his climax came, "Oh, Oh, Oh FUCK." he withdrew far too quickly and stepped back into a beam of light and for the first time we could see his face. I sucked air into my lungs stepped back from the parapet, kissed the blonde hard on the mouth and said, "Take me now." She did, and I did, and we did and I knew that things would never be the same, that my world and my life had changed irrevocably forever. As we lay together under the Karoo stars, she chuckled softly, "You must admit he is consistent. You two do look a lot alike but I do believe however, that I got the better of the deal. You are so much more beautiful than Mary." Blonde Ambition I drive up the long winding driveway to the house with anticipation and a bit of dread. I had been planning this for quite some time but working up the courage to act had taken longer than I had imagined it would. My palms feel a bit damp but not as damp as my crotch. I blush momentarily at the thought of how aroused I am. My heart feels like it is beating so loud. Surely he might hear me. I grin at the thought as I put my car in park and climb out. I do one last inspection in my side view mirror and head towards the side door that leads to his home office. He's home alone. His wife, my boss, is away on a "business" trip with her head of product development but the only new products they'll be testing out are the new sex toys they bought last week. Shanya thinks I don't know that she and Darcey are lovers. But I do and I intend to use that knowledge to my advantage. Mark is a wonderful man. He started up his own software development company at the age of 21 and has worked hard to make and keep it successful. Now at 37, he's preparing to sell off the company and find a new venture. And I intend to be the one at his side. I peek through the glass inset in the door and see him sitting at his large oak desk deep in concentration on what is on his computer screen. I ease open the door and step quietly inside. As my sandaled feet sink into the thick beige carpet, I take a deep calming breath. I gaze longingly at his chestnut brown locks, curling gently beside his ears and straying errantly across his brow. His dark gray eyes are still glued to the monitor so I take a moment to drink in his beauty. Clearing my throat, I say "hi' in what I hope is a friendly and beguiling voice. He looks up from his computer screen with a startled look on his face. "Can I help you Emmie? I didn't hear you knock. I'm sorry." He uses the pet name that my family and closest friends have called me for years. I walk quickly to his desk and slide around to stand next to his chair before he can rise. Leaning against the desk, I stare at him intently. "Mark, I've been fighting it for some time but I am deeply attracted to you. I've never been with a man and I want you to be my first." There, I've said it! My heart pounds so hard I can hear the blood rushing in my ears. "Uh , um , Emily. Uh really. I'm flattered... uh yeah. Really." He swallows hard and I watch His Adams apple bob. His face is level with my breasts and try as he might he can't keep from stealing glances at my creamy round mounds mostly visible in the tank top I chose to wear. "But you know I'm married and my step daughter, Kara is your best friend! And my wife is your boss so... " His voice trails off and he looks hopeful that the conversation is over. "Your marriage is a sham. We both know that Mark. And I've seen how you look at me." I lean forward and whisper in his ear, "I can hardly wait to get your hard cock in my sweet tight, virgin pussy." I don't wait for a reply. I trail kisses along his neck and nibble on his earlobe gently while my hand strays up his long lean thigh to his crotch. I caress the growing bulge I find there and hear him moan. Feeling his surrender is imminent, I claim his sweet lips with mine and swiftly delve my tongue in to taste him. Oh god what bliss! My blood rushes through my veins and I try to maintain control over my raging lust. "Oh ... oh god." I hear him whisper as I leave his sweet lips and move down his body . Swinging his computer chair around I drop to my knees between his legs and quickly unzip his Levis and release his straining cock from its prison. I hear a deep moan as my lips sink onto his hot throbbing shaft. I have to work hard to take him all in as my tongue caresses up and down and I cup his balls lovingly and then run my nails across them so gently he can barely feel them there. His hips thrust appreciatively and I hear his sharp intake of breath. His hands reach up and run through my hair gently, almost distractedly. My pussy is dripping wet now and the crotch of my panties are soaked. Giving one last lick along the length of his cock, I stand up and stretch with a Cheshire cat grin on my face. I quickly whisk my top off and release my lovely breasts from their restraint. My orbs bounce gently and his eyes are glued to me as if in a trance and his cock throbs and bounces it's appreciation. I turn my back to him and partially leaning over his desk, I slide my shorts and bikini briefs down my legs and let them drop to the floor. He reaches with his hand and runs it across my tight little ass cheek and then lets it wander, as if of its own volition to my inner thigh and up to the heated damp core waiting for his exploration. I feel his fingers gently touch my pussy and clit and it's so light, that it makes me ache for more. I need more! Moaning I beg, "Please!" and arch my ass up and spread my legs to give him better access. He rubs his thumb across my clit and I feel myself get wetter, hotter, and more uncomfortable than I have ever been in my life. The lust... the need is so strong, it's driving me out of my mind. I feel his fingers breaching my vagina... first one and then two... sliding in and out, slowly stretching me. "Are you sure Em? Really sure?" He stands and presses his cock against my backside and my mind reels. "Because we are at the point of no return. I won't be able to stop, so be sure this is what you want, you minx." He stands perfectly still waiting for my response. Standing up, I lean back into his body, I grab his hands and pull them around me to my breasts and grind my ass into his cock seductively. "I have never been more sure of anything in my life." His hand reaches down to position his cock at my portal. I feel myself holding my breath. I'm a bit scared. Will I be able to take him all in? Will it hurt? Before I can tense up he swiftly slides partway in. I feel my body stretching to accommodate his size and he hesitates when he feels the resistance of my hymen. "Do it. Just do it." I hiss breathlessly. He quickly sheathes himself to the hilt in my pussy. The pain is harsh for a moment and I bite my lip to keep from crying out. He is perfectly still waiting for my signal that I'm ready to continue. I can hear his breath as he strains for control to wait. I gently press myself back onto him and moan softly in encouragement. It's all he needs. His hands grab my hips and he begins to slide in and out , slowly at first, letting my body heat back up and enjoy the feel of his cock filling me, stretching me, making me weak with lust and so, so wet. My breathing begins to quicken as I can feel myself moving toward orgasm. He can feel my pussy tightening on his cock and his pace quickens. We are both panting like wild animals rutting and I hear the sound of our flesh hitting together as his cock buries itself over and over in my hot, wet core. I am so close... so close. "Oh god baby! Oh god! That's it! That's it! Yes, oh yes! Fuck meeeee...." I'm screaming as I feel my orgasm overtake me. Dimly I hear him groan "oh god yes! Yes!" as his load of sperm shoots into my waiting pussy. He seems to come forever but finally his orgasm ebbs and he pulls out and sinks back down into the chair in a daze. He's mine... he may not know it yet. But he's mine. He'll figure that out soon enough. Blonde & Beautiful with Big Breasts There are no underage characters in this story. All characters portrayed are over the age of 18-years-old. Please vote for this story. Please give me the support of your vote. Blonde & Beautiful with Big Breasts What do beautiful blondes, divorce women, tube tops, and big tits have in common? They're funny. Joe likes blondes, beautiful blondes, blue-eyed blondes, and with big breasts. "Knock knock." "Who's there?" "Tube top." "Tube top?" "Boob top." * * * * * If you don't know this already, let me tell you a little something about women. Chances are if you're divorced like me, with this no big secret to you, then you already know this about women. Then again, chances are, if you're "in love," recently engaged, or are a newlywed, you'd never believe what I'm about to write here about women. Truly, I feel bad for you. If you're "in love," recently engaged, or a newlywed, with the spell that women cast over you, it will be years before you know the truth. It will be years before you see your wife, your girlfriend, your significant other, and/or your mistress for the true bitches that they are. "Ah, women, women, women, women, we all so love, lust over, and sexual desire women." Yet, unbeknownst to us until we see the real monsters beneath the makeup, hair dye, and sexy clothes, most women are bitches, total bitches. Can I get an Amen? In the way that they flirt, tease, and dress provocatively, most women are sluts? How about a high five to that? Just as most men are voyeurs, most women are exhibitionists, otherwise they wouldn't be wearing short skirts, low cut tops, barely there bikinis, and sheer, nearly see-through clothes. Am I right? Seriously, just look at how many women don't wear panties when going out in public? Now, with men risking arrest for lewd and lascivious behavior and being added to the sex registry list, how many men don't wear underwear when leaving the house? Talk about women complaining about living in a man's world and about being held down by double standards, where are men's rights? Hey, maybe we'd like to go out to a dance wearing a short skirt and no underwear. How about that? Maybe we'd like to be up skirted by women? Maybe we'd like for women to ogle our cocks in the way we ogle their cunts. "Aha! Now you're getting the meaning of this tongue firmly planted in cheek story. My point exactly." * * * * * I may be biased and forgive my biased opinion but with me speaking from firsthand experience, most women are money grubbing whores. Most women will go with any man and do any sexual thing as long as he has money and as long as he promises not to look at another woman. Most women will remain faithful, so long as he shall naturally live or until she kills him, whichever comes first. As my most recent example of women willing to do anything and put up with anything for her man, as long as he has money, look at Ray Rice, the Baltimore Ravens running back. Do you think if Ray Rice wasn't a rich man that his fiancée, Janay Palmer, would tolerate him beating her, knocking her out, and then dragging her out of the elevator with her dress nearly up to her waist? I don't think so. Difficult to tell from the blurred image but I don't think that she was wearing panties. What do you think? And then she marries the woman beater. What? Huh? Are you kidding me? Why in the Hell would she marry his ass? What's wrong with her? Hit her once, you know he'll be beating on her again. Moreover, he didn't slap her, he punched her with a closed fist. Can't you just see Ray at home? "I told you, Janay, when I come home from playing football, especially after losing the game, I want my supper ready. Smack, smack. Now get your ass back in the kitchen where it belongs." * * * * * Hey, I know that I do and you know that I do. I speak the truth. I'm only telling it the way it is. If you don't know any of this stuff, it's better that you learn now for you to be ready for the future, a future that will, no doubt, show your precious wife going behind your back, knifing you in the back, and taking all of your money to give to her shyster divorce attorney. Women have it made, don't they? Damn, I'd love to have a woman working to support me while I stayed at home, drank beer, watched the sports channel, and then complained that I had a headache or was tired when she wanted me to have sex with her. This whole thing with men on one side drooling over women and women on the other side teasing men is the biggest scam in life. Men are the victims and women are the victors. For women to have gotten away with this scam for so long, women, by far, are smarter than men. For a man to follow a woman and do anything she wants, all she needs to do is to show him her tits while sucking his cock. Go ahead, I dare you, I double dare you to tell me that's not true. Once you buy in to the sexuality of women, doomed for life, you can never buy out. You're done. You're finished. You're toast. Women will suck you dry and then spit you out and I'm not writing about cum. I'm writing about money. Money, money, money. If you want the secret to women, it's money. Most men truly believe that they cannot live without a woman in their lives and in their beds. Yet, a new member of WHC, the Women Hater's Club, which was created long ago by Hal Roach when he created Our Gang, the Little Rascals with Spanky and Alfalfa, I'm here to tell you differently. I'm here to tell you that we'd be better off without women. "What do you say? Let's boycott women? Who's ready to join the Women Hater's Club? Anyone? Hello? Hey, where'd you all go?" * * * * * Let me ask you this. How many times did you masturbate over the stage curtain raising the dress of Spanky's mother? Risqué back then. We saw her slip and then we saw her panties that were more like Granny bloomers. Never expecting to see something like that on Our Gang, that was a hot scene. Even when watching TV in black and white, we all lusted over Donna Reed with her white gloves, Doris Day with her innocence, and Lucille Ball with her brilliant, red hair. If we weren't masturbating over Marilyn Monroe and Sophia Lauren, then we were masturbating over Jayne Mansfield. Women have always had a hold on us even at a time when every movie was censored for sexual content. They couldn't even French kiss. There was no explicit graphic nudity in the way that there is today. Yet, we still lusted over women. How many of you dreamt of banging Elizabeth Taylor, Natalie Woods, and/or Debbie Reynolds? Yeah, that's what I'm writing about. What a life? Not counting single mothers who must work two jobs to make ends meet, what a life, what a wonderful life some women have? It's all such a racket. What a sham of a scam that women have played on we men for centuries? How dare they? And how stupid can we be? From Marc Antony with Cleopatra, to Paris with Helen of Troy, to Richard Burton with Elizabeth Taylor, to Eddie Fisher with Debbie Reynolds and Elizabeth Taylor, to Frank Sinatra, Donald Trump, and Hugh Hefner with every women, how many men have risked everything for the love of a woman? Finding some poor sap to work for them and make money for them while they go shopping and lounge around the pool, I wish I was a broad. I wish I lived the carefree, lap of luxury life of a broad. Granted there are more hard working women, especially single mothers, who don't have an easy life but my two ex-wives were spoiled rotten and pampered like prima donna babies. My fault, I treated them like queens when I should have treated them like the witches and like the bitches that they were. If only I knew then what I know now, my life would have been so different. Never would I have put up with their mistreatment. Pulling their credit cards and taking away their checkbooks, I would have made them earn the money that I gave them in the way that my boss made me earn the money that he gave me. * * * * * Without having to vacuum the whole house, fix this and fix that while listening to her nagging me over my drinking, now I get to watch as much football and baseball as I want without having to watch some sappy chick flick. I get to play poker with the boys or go deep fishing any time I want without checking on her schedule first to see if her fat mother or her mean sisters are coming to visit. "Fuck her and fuck them! I'm free! I'm finally free! Good the fuck bye." Granted, I'm still a sucker for a beautiful, blue-eyed, blonde broad with big tits. The reason why I was so good to my ex-wives was because both of them had not only were beautiful but also they both had hot bodies with big tits. Moreover, a favorite pastime of mine, both of them not only loved sucking cock but also both of them swallowed. Just ask Brad Pitt, Michael Jordan, Charles Barkley, and/or Tiger Woods what they look for in a woman. They all want a beautiful woman who has big tits and who loves sucking cock. There's nothing like fondling big tits and fingering erect nipples while being sucked by a beautiful broad. "Ah, life doesn't get any better than that. Yes, indeed, life was good for a while, until I married them." Had I not married them, they'd surely be sucking someone else while someone else would be sucking me. Once I married them, my bed grew cold and my anger grew hot. Once I married them that was the end of them sucking my cock whenever I wanted them to suck my cock. Once I married them, playing with their big tits while fingering their nipples was off limits. Oh, yeah, unless I came home with flowers and jewelry, the fun bag playground was permanently closed for good. Always with an excuse, they had a headache. They had their period or was getting their period or just had their period. Are you kidding me? What does them getting, having, or just had their period have to do with them sucking my cock? They weren't in the mood. They were tired. They found religion and don't do that anymore. Religion? Okay, being that you're on your knees anyway... Fuck me. Is it any wonder why men go to strip clubs and pay a prostitute to do what their wives should be doing? "What? Huh? Are you kidding me? Hey! Before I give you your weekly allowance, get on your knees and suck my dick." I may be mistaken but isn't one of the Ten Commandments that thou shall give thy husband a blowjob any time he wants one? Actually, now that I think more about it, my ex-wives sucked my cock more before I married them than they did after I put that big rock on their little finger. Used and abused, as soon as they got all that they were going to get from me, they latched on to someone else, someone with deeper pockets, a smaller brain, and with a naïve appreciation for women. Only, no longer falling in that trap, now I know better. As soon as they marry the poor bastard, they won't be sucking him in the way they stopped sucking me. Then, when he runs out of money, they'll be fucking him over in the way they fucked me over and again. * * * * * I'm a typical guy and I love tits. The bigger the tits, the bigger my attraction to a broad. Even though I have firm man boobs, I wish I had my own set of tits to touch, to feel, to fondle, and that were big enough for me to suck my own nipples. Now don't get me wrong, better than nothing, I like small titties too. Yet a set of D cup breasts hanging down in my face while a woman is leaning over me and sitting on my cock is something very special indeed. It's like this woman I met in a bar the other day. With legs from here to there, she was tall. She was blonde. She was beautiful. Then, as soon as she opened her mouth to talk, I was in love. My kind of woman, I realized that she had blue eyes that were obviously bigger than her brain. Moreover, as a bonus, she was busty. Oh, baby, did she ever have big tits. Definitely, as if I had won the lottery and hit the trifecta all in the same day, she was my kind of woman. "May I buy you a drink sweatheart?" I bought her a drink and we started talking about this, that, and the other thing. Come to find out, we had a lot in common. I liked having my cock sucked and she loved sucking cock. Tell me. What are the odds of that? The perfect woman, it's as if the God of love looked down upon me and took pity on me by giving me my perfect match, my soul mate, a real honest to goodness, beautiful, blonde, blue-eyed, busty cocksucker. Life doesn't get any better than this. And wait, here it comes, she not only loves football but also she loves the Red Sox. Are you kidding me? I'm in love. "Sweetheart," I said as an icebreaker. "Do me a favor please?" She was wearing my favorite blouse, a blouse that was even better than a peasant blouse that all of the wenches wore in the middle ages, better known as the dark ages. Oh, yeah, you guessed it. She was wearing a tube top, better known as a boob top. She was wearing the same type of top that a woman wore when Bob Barker of the Price Is Right told her to, "Come on down." The poor woman ran down the aisle and all the up to the stage before taking her place in front of Bob Barker and the world with her tube top down to her waist. "Ah, life is good." Invented by the son of Iranian refugees, Elie Tahari, invented the tube top. The President of the United States should give the highest civilian award, the Medal of Freedom award, appropriately bestowed for freeing tits, to this fashion designer who designed tube tops. They should build a statue of him. They should name a building after him. Every city in America should have a street with his name, Elie Tahari Street, Elie Tahari Road, Elie Tahari Boulevard, Elie Tahari Avenue, and Elie Tahari highway. We should have a special day, the Elie Tahari day where every woman in America must wear a tube top in the way that every person in America must wear green on Saint Patrick's Day. * * * * * She was wearing a tube top. Can you believe it? A relic from the 70's and 80's, I didn't even know you could buy those anymore. Now answer me this question. Why on Earth would a woman with massive breasts run the risk of wearing a tube top in a bar full of drunken, horny men? Not wanting her to be disappointed, if she was deemed on showing her big breasts, I was deemed on helping her show her huge tits. "Yes," she said staring at me with the big, beautiful, firm tits. You thought I was going to write big, beautiful, blue eyes, didn't you. "What would you like me to do for you?" Dizzy with sexual delight, a loaded question for her to ask me, she knew she was playing with fire by the sexy smile she gave me. No doubt, she knew that I was thinking about her looking up at me with those big, beautiful, blue eyes while she sucked my cock and while I fondled her enormous boobs while fingering her hard nipples. She gave me the eye along with her sexy look. She must think me a sucker but I'm not. Fool me once and divorce me twice, I learned the hard way. Now I have women all figured out now. I handed her a hundred dollar bill and watched her eyes light up as if she had just walked in a Parade of Shoes with a buy one and get one free sign on the window. "Jump up and down until I tell you to stop. I, um, just wanna see somethin'," I said. Immediately, I watched her nipples harden. Obviously, she knew why I wanted her to jump up and down. Obviously, she knew that as soon as she jumped up and down a couple of times, her tube top would fall and the sexual temperature of every man in that bar would rise. Truly, what I propose by handing her a hundred dollar bill was, indeed, a beautiful thing. My type of woman, like the dumb broad she is, she jumped up and down in place. Ba boom, ba boom, ba boom, ba boom, I watched her huge, D cup boobs move up and down and up and down with her until I saw all that I needed to see. With her blouse falling lower as her breasts moved higher, her tits popped out of her top. First one and then the other. "Hello. Nice to meet you...both." With her jumping up and down and with her big tits out of her top, as if she was trying to walk and chew gum at the same time, it took her a minute to realize that her breasts were exposed. "Oh, baby." Man, she sure had big, natural tits. By the stiffness of my erection, I could tell that my cock loved her big jugs as much as I loved her huge melons. Now here's a woman that I need to take home for me to get better acquainted with her tits and for her to get better acquainted with my cock. "Do me a favor honey. Keep stroking and sucking until I tell you to stop. I have a big, creamy surprise for you." * * * * * If I was a broad, especially if I had big tits like this broad does, I'd be flashing my tits all over the place. I'd use my big, shapely tits as my golden keys to unlock those doors that other broads, women who had small and/or deformed breasts, are denied entry. I'd find a stupid man in the way that my first two wives found me and I'd use him to buy me everything I want, furs, jewelry, and expensive trips before asking him to buy me a new car and a condo in Miami. If I was a broad, I'd be touching myself all the time. If I was a broad, I'd be feeling my tits and fingering my nipples constantly. If I was a broad, I'd be playing with my pussy every chance that I got. If I was a broad, I'd have an entire dresser filled with panty and bras and an entire closet filled with high heel shoes of every color and style. If I was a broad, I wouldn't need a man as long as I had my vibrator, my dildo, and my panties, bras, and high heel shoes. "Damn, I wish I had been born a broad instead of a man. Damn, I never should have bought my two ex-wives those vibrators, dildos, and all of those panties, bras, and high heel shoes. If only I knew then what I know now, demanding that they stay dressed in their nightgowns without wearing panties underneath, I'd probably still be married to one of them." THE END Please give me the support of your vote. Blonde Bait Tied that way, I found the least uncomfortable position was to lie sideways. Not that comfort was at the top of my mind. But it did minimize the pressure on my knees and elbows. I had been trapped in this position since two masked men carried me from the hotel room on the fifth floor. I was sure there were cameras on the elevator, which they used to carry me down. I could not see with my eyes duct taped, so I was not sure if it was the service elevator or the regular elevator. These guys were not too bright. Could they not have used the stairs to avoid detection? Or perhaps they had overpowered and tied up the security personnel, maybe even killed them, although it was difficult to see why that was necessary. Or my captors could simply have bribed them. After all, as you know, bribery was not exactly a rare thing in China. This position they had bound me was professional, something they could not have learned watching television or the movies. They ordered me to kneel, face against the wall, with my wrists crossed behind. I heard someone rip out some electrical cord. I tilted my head and saw from the corner of my eye it was a white telephone cord, the part that connected the telephone to the wall. Bad news, telephone cords were tough, made to withstand at least 140 pounds of pressure. I knew that for a fact because I once used a telephone cord to escape from the third floor balcony of a man I had just killed. I remembered he was 300 pounds of pure fat. I sat on him and gave him the best sex of his life before strangling him with my bare hands. Seeing the life ooze out of that child rapist, second by second, face blue, body twitching, eyes humbled by the realization of death at the hands of a woman, it was worth letting his filthy fingers and tongue wander every inch of my body. Not to mention the $100,000 paid by an anonymous philanthropist. As I was saying, they ripped out the telephone cord, thin enough to slice through my skin and draw blood, but strong enough to secure my wrists behind. The knot on my wrists gave me no doubt this was not their first rodeo. As long as the free end was in a closed fist or tied to a fixed object like a hook, the more I would struggle, the tighter it would have felt. While one man held the free end of the cord, the other gripped and pulled both my ankles. His grip on one of my ankles was not that tight. Perhaps he thought he was simply dealing with a bitch. I could have easily freed one leg and kicked him hard in the face, hard enough to knock him out. With one man out, I could have pushed back against the surprised second man, spun around and kneed him in the crotch. When he bent over, my knee could have met his open face, breaking the nose and drawing blood. Even if he was still conscious after that, his grip on the cord would loosen. I would have been able to move my tied wrists to the front and untangle the knot with my teeth. It would have taken just five seconds, which was my average during training. I could also have screamed at the top of my voice. The hotel walls were thin and surely somebody would have called 9-1-1. They did not point a gun at me or press a knife against my almost naked body, clad only in a black bra and G-string that slid behind my muscled crack. But I did not do anything like that. Instead of using weapons on me, they had a gun pointed at Adam's temple. He was on the other side of the king sized bed, too far away for any possible action to save him. His lips had been duct taped. I could see his jaw movements behind the tape. His muffled and shaky voice said he was sorry. It was really not his fault. There was nothing he could have done. In my shower, I had heard the metallic door bell and the faint voice of room service. What a sweet man, I thought. How could Adam have known that I was a big believer in breakfast? Compliments of the hotel, I heard. The thick carpet made it hard to know that two men had entered. Eager to see what was for breakfast, I stepped out of the glass shower and used the hotel dryer on my blonde hair. I enjoyed the tingle on my shoulders as the static charged ends of my hair touched them. The sound of the dryer drawn out the activity outside my locked bathroom door. I turned the cups of the bra to my back and wrap the back strap around me, with the back hooks in front of my navel. After I hooked the catch, one hook at a time, I twisted the bra around, pulled it up to cover my baseball sized racks, then slipped my arms through the straps. If I wore it like most girls do, arms through the straps first, front cups to my breasts, I could never properly secure the bra hooks behind me. I had to always do it this way. By the time I maneuvered to put on my tight push-up bra, the steam on the mirror had cleared. I adjusted the bra and squeezed my breasts together, happy the tight bra had made me one size bigger and created a sizeable cleavage, the light from the shower lamp casting a satisfying shadow. In contrast to the bra, the matching black G-string was a breeze to put on. I slid it up my thighs and pulled hard on the side strings until they rode above my hip bones. I turned ninety degrees to check that the Y shape was imprinted on my butt. I pulled on my sides harder until the base of the Y disappeared into my ass. Later, I had planned to put on low-riding denim shorts, wearing it in such a way the top part of the Y would be visible. I hoped Adam liked the slutty look. When I stepped out of the shower room, I saw rightaway that they had Adam. At that point, I was not sure whether he or I was the target. Both men were with him and it was only when I emerged that one of them approached. He was unarmed, cocksure that we were a romantic couple and he could make me submit as long as a gun was pointed at Adam. I wondered how the kidnappers could be so sure. Where did I stop? Oh yes, they had my wrists already secured behind my back, on my knees. My legs were pulled, my knees scraping against the carpet. I was forced to my stomach, ordered to press my face down. I felt my stronger right leg folded at the knees, the right ankle forced into the back of my left knee. Then the left leg was forced back until it trapped my right ankle. My left ankle was forced back some more until it hooked against my tied wrists. When he let go of my left ankle, the tension of the wedged right ankle caused the entire left leg to spring forth, pulling my bound arms backwards and twisting the shoulder sockets. My own body was made to torture itself. Secured that way, the man with the gun approached. Open your whore mouth, I was ordered. The gun was jammed inside, jerked side to side and clattered on my teeth. Wider, he ordered. He had the other hand twisted inside my hair. I could no longer see Adam. He must be scared shitless, I thought. Both men were with me, the only gun in my mouth and he could have attempted something had he been trained. Alas, I was the only trained agent in the room and I have been expertly and uniquely shackled. More pressure was to be applied to my joints and muscles, which were beginning to quiver. My left ankle was tied to the wrists, the cord looping around my toes for extra security. Another telephone cord was removed, this time from the bathroom. Damn, why did anyone need two phones in one hotel room? The second cord was used to tie my elbows together. Finally, they duct taped my mouth and then my eyes. Blinded, gagged and shackled, I was carried by the armpits and dumped into the trunk. Judging by the quiet but bold hum of the engine, I guessed I must be in the trunk of a BMW. I landed on my back, my own weight crushing wrists and ankles, the restraints biting. Recovering from the shock, I slowly rotated to my left, my bare shoulders scraping against plastic and metal. I remained calm, breathing deeply through my nose. I tried to arch my back to make it easier to breathe. Taking a deep breath, I strained my toned muscle groups on my thighs, calves, shoulders and arms. The combined effort resulted in barely any movement, marginally improving my lung position. Giving up, I decided to save my energy for what was to come. Ten minutes later, my left shoulder and upper arm had gone to sleep. I had to burn scarce resources to flip to my stomach, then to the right. Just as I was twisting inside the tight confines of the trunk, the car negotiated a few tight turns, my head and knees alternately hitting the sides. Worse, my bare back caught something sharp, breaking the skin. I felt a stream of warm fluid diagonally crossing my back. The throbbing emanating from the shoulder blade left no doubt the cut had drawn blood. I blocked out everything and focused on her options. Very soon, my situation would either stay the same or get worse. The bad news was that my cover had been blown. At the very least, they knew I was not the business executive I claimed to be, in Hong Kong for a two year assignment. The cover had been carefully set up following the usual procedures. My business cards, bilingual in English and Chinese, had stated my position as the Director of Operations for a manufacturing company based in Florida. With a degree in engineering, I knew enough about factories to converse effortlessly with the men and women in business seminars and hotel bars. I drove to work between eight to eight-thirty five days a week, fighting through the rush hour traffic and diving into the cross harbor tunnel from Kowloon to Hong Kong. Like every Hong Kong resident during the rush hour, I would park my car in a basement parking lot. And like every business person, I would be glued to the cell phone while walking from the car to the elevator. But unlike everyone else, the elevator, which was hidden behind a utility door, took me down instead of up. Once in the windowless office deep below the streets of Hong Kong, I hid my blonde hair, covered it with a jet black wig, removed the business suit, slipped into jeans and T-shirt, and replaced my heels with Nike sneakers. The transformation was completed by removing all makeup and wearing brown contact lens, my face hidden behind a baseball cap. Emerging from the cargo area at the back of the office building, I pushed a cart carrying soft drinks through the narrow and muggy streets of the business district, the morning sun in my eyes. Each day, around noon, the sun directly overhead, Steve Wong and his lunch companions would emerge from his office near the Hong Kong Convention and Exhibition Centre in Wan Chai, waiting a few seconds at the sidewalk for his limo. Each day, I would adjust the baseball cap, snapping digital pictures with the tiny hidden camera, instantly uploading them to a server in Delray Beach, Florida. Within minutes, face recognition software would compare the lunch companions with records stored in giant databases around the world. By 1:00 p.m., a report would be printed, waiting for me in the secured office. Not a man to waste time, Wong used his lunch hour strategically. He lunched with all the movers and shakers of Hong Kong, including major politicians, powerful heads of the banking and finance establishment, chief executives of property corporations and shipping companies. Wong himself ran the fifth largest cellphone network in Hong Kong. But everyone knew he had a more powerful position. Wong was also the undisputed dragon head of one of the major triads in Hong Kong. It was rumored, but never proven, that the Wong triad was involved in extortion, drugs, gambling, and prostitution, the Big Four staples of all the triads in Hong Kong. If the triad had simply been involved in the Big Four, there would be no reason for the agency to be involved. But email surveillance had revealed that the Wong triad could be involved in money laundering for known terrorist groups. I was picked for this mission because my Mandarin and Cantonese were at a native level, having been brought up by missionary parents in China's Guangdong province until eighteen. Thereafter, I had attended the Georgia Institute of Technology, graduating second in my engineering class. The agency did not take long to decide to send me. They simply did not have anyone else with my experience and background. After merely three weeks on the streets of Hong Kong, I had singlehandedly collected more intelligence on Wong then any intelligence outfit anywhere in the world ever had. Analysts back in Florida were connecting the dots, putting the jigsaw puzzle together. The supporting team members were excited. They could feel a breakthrough about to happen. On the Wednesday of the fourth week, I was stuck in traffic inside the cross harbor tunnel. When I braked for the fifteenth time inside the short tunnel, I heard the screeching sound of tires behind, ending with a bump on my fender. The man behind, dressed in a well-tailored suit with a navy blue shirt, hurried to my window, apologizing profusely. He was Chinese but had an American accent. "I'm sorry Ma'am. Are you hurt?" He must have known the fender bender would not even cause a scrap. I pushed the button that lowered the window. "No problem. Let's just forget it." "Don't you want to take my insurance information?" "I said forget it," beginning to raise my voice. "I am late for work. Would you please step away from my car?" "At least let me apologize by buying dinner." I looked at him a few seconds longer than socially acceptable, noticing for the first time he was quite attractive, biceps trapped in a navy blue shirt, wavy dark hair sheltered the ears, eyebrows thick, almost meeting in the middle. "Are you hitting on me?" My head tilted sideways, my right hand brushing my hair behind the ear, half smiling. "I think so," he raised his eyebrows and smiled in a guilty way, as if he was caught in a forbidden act. "Here's my card. Call me on my personal cell." I wrote my Hong Kong cell phone number at the back of the card. The number would go directly to me, not to the agency in the States. He called as soon as I reached the office. We agreed to meet that very night. We had dinner. Adam Chan was polite, intelligent, and funny. His business card stated he was the Director of Information Technology in one of the major real estate firms. Born in California, he had moved to Hong Kong, initially for one year, to search for his roots. Seven years later, he was still there, enjoying the career opportunities available in an economy growing at four times the pace of the United States. The agency's policy was not against the socialization of agents with civilians, even if they turned romantic, as long as it did not affect the quality of an agent's work. Adam Chan's story checked out. His employer, ST Real Estate, specialized in building and managing shopping malls in China. It was a fast growing firm with a reputation of hiring the best with generous financial packages. The firm was also politically well-connected to local, state and federal politicians throughout China, a necessity to operate successfully in the Chinese business world. We saw each other every night that week. We were moving too fast. I could feel something was not right. Nevertheless, after the third dinner date, I spent the night in Adam's luxury apartment in Kowloon, overlooking the Hong Kong harbor. With floor to ceiling windows, the gorgeous skyline of Hong Kong blinked its lights on the silk bed sheet of the king-sized bed as we hungrily devoured each other. We had anticipated this moment since the fender bender, as soon as we locked eyes on each other. We were healthy, athletic and fit, consuming each other again and again, giving and receiving, bodies merging into one, the sheets soaking wet, until we were both out of oxygen, collapsing into each other's arms. We slept for a couple of hours before we had to get up and go to our demanding jobs. >>>>> I felt the shift to lower gears, then a complete stop. "Passport please," the officer said in Cantonese. The voice was just loud enough to be heard above the loud music pumping through the six speakers of the BMW. I considered but dismissed the idea of screaming for help. There were no plurals in Cantonese, so it was difficult to figure out from the word "passport" whether there was just the driver, or several men I had to contend with. Although two men dumped me in the trunk, I heard only the sound of one slammed door. Still, it was possible for two or three men to get in through a single door. But the driver would have to slide over from the front passenger seat, which would be odd. Or the passenger would have to slide over from the driver's seat, which would be even odder. Five minutes later, I heard the same request for passport, but this time in Mandarin. I was being taken from Hong Kong to Guangdong in Mainland China, precisely what I had expected. Hong Kong was urban and congested. But Guangdong was rural, with plenty of remote places, ideal for prolonged interrogation or torture. As an undercover agent, I knew and accepted the risks of torture or even death. And as a female agent, I also accepted the brutal reality of rape, even gang rape. I shifted from side to side nine more times, using it to keep track of time. One and one half hours had passed. I would be 100 miles or so inside Hong Kong border, deep inside China. The driver could have gone North, East, West, or some combination of the three. It was impossible to know exactly where I was. The roar of the engine told me the BMW had picked up speed after the border, with barely any traffic this time of the night. >>>>> We made love again on the final night, not in his apartment, but in Harbor Grand Kowloon hotel. Located to the East of the touristy Tsim Sha Tsui district, the hotel was famous for its spectacular views of the eastern part of the Hong Kong skyline. Although the room on the fifth floor of the hotel, with a view to die for, we did not bother to open the blinds. As soon as we stumbled into the room, we wasted no time peeling off each other's clothing, hands pawing like cats. My jacket fell first to the thick carpet, then his jacket. We stood facing each other. He ripped open my blouse, scattering the buttons in a semi-circle, one of them rolling under the bed. I paused a second before doing the same with his shirt, ripping it off with so much force two of the buttons were split in halves. He spun me around. I let him pin my hands behind as he removed my blouse. I giggled as if I was in high school. It looked like you had plenty of practice, I whispered hot air in his ear. He relaxed. Mistake. I backed up, grabbed his arm, bent forward, and flipped him over. He landed on the bed. I was on top of him in no time, his pants down to his knees before he could react. I gripped his left arm and bent it backwards until it was between his shoulder blades. He cried out before I let go and allowed him to flip me over. He fumbled, struggling to unhook the back of my bra. Frustrated, he slid the straps off my shoulders, then down my elbows. I moved my hands to help, laughing, tossing my hair playfully at his eyes. He cussed, throwing the bra across the room as soon as he separated it from me. Next he worked on the zipper on the side of my narrow skirt. I wiggled side to side to let him pull it to my ankles, laughing so hard I coughed. When he finally removed my panties, he squeezed it into a ball and held it in front of my face. I stuck out my tongue, licking it twice before he pushed it into my mouth. It was not my favorite thing, but I understood the fantasy. Like most men, he liked the controlling feeling of making his woman swallow whatever he chose to put inside her mouth. Keep your mouth open for me, he ordered. I put my hands high up, pushing against the head board. He kept pushing my panties deeper until I choked. He crawled on top of me until his knees straddle my face, his cock resting on my nose.