19 comments/ 108139 views/ 31 favorites Tuesday By: yui It is Tuesday. I am one month and 13 days into my eighteenth year and I am sitting on a wooden stool that is so low that my knees are higher than my hips. My twin brother, Yuki, is standing beside me talking to a customer. He is close enough that I can feel the body heat radiating off of him and for no better reason than the fact that he is that close to me, I lean my head against him. Touch is my drug of choice and, right or wrong, touching Yuki is as necessary, and as instinctive, to me as breathing. I do not purr when Yuki's long fingers worm their way into my pigtails, calluses catching on the odd thread of hair, but my breath does hitch in a small, mostly silent, little hum that rumbles low in my throat. Rubbing my cheek against his leg, like a cat scent marking him, I cannot help wishing it were smooth, warm skin touching my face instead slightly rough denim. Yuki-induced arousal vibrates constantly through my nervous system and in this moment it hums a bit closer to the surface, but doesn't quite tumble from sweet-touch to fuck-me-lust, so we stay that way...Yuki wrecking my braids, playing his nails against my scalp, and me breathing the dried-in-the-sunshine smell of his jeans and beneath that, the spice of his skin. Yuki laughs at something the customer says and even though I am distracted by the manga I am looking at, his laughter rides through my body like a knowledgeable hand. I smile reflexively, unable not to, all cat-with-cream at the tingling in my tummy, but I make no effort to follow the conversation. The person whom he is speaking with is completely unaware of my presence behind the high counter, so I sit quietly, invisible to the world. At my back, warm where my shoulders rest against it, the wooden structure is like a fortress. I am surrounded by the sawdust smell of books, pine cleaner and the sweet candy scent of the new magazines. I hear their voices, Yuki's and the customer who exists, not in my world, but only on the other side of the counter, but it is a distant nattering on. To be honest, I am too fascinated by the hentai manga I am looking at to pay attention to what seems to be an oral recap of the Momoyama Period and Oda Nobunaga's role in unifying Central Japan... Their voices fade from my awareness, casually, without any effort on my part. The manga is called "4U" and the pages of carefully drawn images are beautiful and nasty. The paper is thick and cool against the pads of my fingers. The black ink is very black against off-white paper and the blood relationship between the characters is sweetly obvious, to me anyway, because of the physical similarities in their appearance. But is the disparity in their sizes that causes me to shift on my hard perch. Aroused, my skin shrinks...my insides knot. Blood rises, with heat, to the surface of my skin in a flush that I feel everywhere. Unable to stop myself, I squirm a tiny bit, widening my legs just enough so that the seam in my running short's built-in panty stimulates the damp flesh between my legs. I chew my bottom lip, taste cherry lipgloss, rock my hips minutely and turn the page. The siblings in the manga are fucking for the first time. She is standing, wearing only panties, with her back pressed against the front of him. The girl looks small and hungry. Her brother is pressed into her, one arm around her chest and the other inside his sister's dainty little panties, fingering her dainty little pussy. The pages slip across my fingertips like a caress, making goosebumps tickle down my shoulders. I breathe through my nose, touching the erotic images in light little circles. Sister is now on her knees, wrapping both hands around her brother's artistically exaggerated cock and she is trying to suck all that hard flesh into her round little mouth. The stubby-pigtailed girl and her brother remind me so forcibly of me and Yuki that arousal, always simmering, spills through me, scalding hot, making my tummy feel full and tight. I wiggle on the stool, my pussy soft, my swelling labia pushing against and puffing around the seam of nylon fabric that is pushing high into my crevice. The thin fabric is darkening with my juice and clings to my dampening flesh, outlining my sex perfectly. I can smell the heat of my arousal, my sex, and I am both ashamed and further aroused by this. I am shamed, yes, but at the same time I want nothing more than to slide my fingers up the leg of my shorts and explore my own creaming cunt. I am breathing in shallow puffs, flexing my pussy muscles and continuing to rock my hips in tiny little movements. Bent at the waist, I am fighting simultaneous urges to reach inside my sports bra and wring my itchy little nipples and stick my middle finger as deep into me as deep as I can reach. My doubled over position succeeds in pressing my puss more tightly against the warm stool and I hear myself make a tiny, involuntary noise. A little mew of need, quickly stifled. "What are you looking at?" I do not know when Yuki's customer left, but he is looking down at me with black eyes, intense, speaking directly to me, so I know no one else is in the store. I do not answer him with words; instead I hold the manga where he can see it. I am worrying my lower lip with my teeth and fighting all sorts of urges that involve taking my clothes off. Yuki looks at the manga for a long ten count and then sets it on the shelf beneath the counter. He squats down in front of me and I can see a faint flush across his cheeks. I look at him, breath still shallow, and I can feel my own heated flush warming the air around me. For a moment he doesn't say anything...then he smiles a wicked smile that makes things low in my tummy go all hot and liquid. "They look like us," he says. Then he is kissing me without touching me and squatting behind that counter, he is invisible now, like me. I lean forward on the stool, into the kiss, trying to convey without words how much I want him right at that moment. We lick and bite and suck each other, only our mouths touching. When I can retain enough oxygen to speak, I say, voice low and rough even to my own ears, "I want you inside me like he is inside her on page twenty-three." Yuki laughs against my skin, his lips trailing down my neck. Licking the dried sweat from my earlier run off of my skin, he hums noises, male and animal, against my throat. His arms remain wrapped around his legs, as he squats flat-footed in front of me, eating salt off my body. Yuki's tongue laves my collarbone, dipping inside the neckline of my top. "Take it off." He tells me, voice gruff, as lost in the moment as I am. I do not hesitate. No one will see me. I am invisible. My tank top and bra are not even over my head before Yuki's hot mouth is sucking on my stiff little nipples. His teeth worry them, his tongue bathes them. I am making tiny little kitten noises, little catches, mewls. In a rush of movement that is both fluid and frantic Yuki is on his knees, eyes gone to wild, his hands tugging the waistband of my shorts. I raise my bottom so he can slip the red nylon down my legs. The shorts land on the old black and white tile floor, looking naughty and vividly red. It is Tuesday. I am one month and 13 days into my eighteenth year. Behind the counter of the Magic Peach Bookstore, I am naked and sitting on a low stool that puts my knees higher than my hips. My legs are spread and the violent pink slit between them is shiny and swollen and flowering open in an erotically lewd invitation. My nipples are worried bright pink and wet with spit from my brother's mouth. My narrow body is full to bursting, my limbs heavy, my belly tight, wanton with lust, with need, with want. Yuki is watching me, eyes bright, pressing the ridge of his erection through his clothes. He makes no move to touch me and I am suddenly discomfited by how exposed I am. Even invisible I suddenly feel very naked. Like a light coming on in the dark, exposing me, I realize I am in a public place and that at any moment the silver bell over the door could jingle and there would be three of us in the room and I would be the only one naked. The distant high voltage hum of life, separated from my bare parts by a wooden counter and a glass door, suddenly doesn't seem very distant at all. Spooked, adrenaline making me weak and a bit clumsy, I reach for my shirt. Yuki grabs my wrist. I look at him, eyes wide, head static-y with a naked-in-public sort of near-panic. He shakes his head, smiling playfully, trying to charm me. "Stay like that. Please." Easy for him to say, he is dressed. "Yeah, well you're not naked," I say, charmed but not wanting to be. I lean forward on the low stool, bowing my head a bit, feeling vulnerable in a way I do not normally feel vulnerable. Unsure more with the situation than with Yuki, my shoulders are hunched, my wrist crossed somewhat bashfully in front of my slippery little puss. Looking down, I realize I am unintentionally framing my breasts, bunching up the little fleshy pads and forcing them into something close to cleavage. Momentarily impressed, I try to mound them up more. "What if someone comes in?" I breathe the question, still looking at the high gentle curves of my breasts that my position, not nature, has created. "Why are you whispering?" Yuki counters and his fingers start drawing soft little lines of fire on my mounded up breasts. "Because, I am naked in a bookstore." Slave to his touch, I widen my stance, uncrossing my wrists to give him better access to my body. "It seems like I should whisper when I am naked in a public place." Yuki dips a finger in my bellybutton and my tummy quivers. "There's no one in here and you have been naked in public before." He is grinning. I laugh. "Almost naked, you perv, I have been almost naked... Huge difference," I say and in the next breath try not to swallow my tongue because Yuki, still grinning, is wiggling his finger into my dewy slit. "Almost naked, then," he says, his finger working slowly, fucking me sweetly. I sigh in pleasure and something high inside my womb softens still further, liquefying for his touch. Yuki kneels between my open legs, gliding his index finger in and out. In the position I am in, legs spread, knees raised, I am completely open to him. Breathing in quick shallow little pants, we both watch as he slides one finger, then two up inside me and we watch those same fingers slide back out, slick and wet. Withdrawing fingers coated with my sticky cream, Yuki rubs them with his thumb, smearing the gooey spend as if testing its consistency. I watch him, panting, my fingers griping the edge of the stool as if I will fall off the world if I let go. Still looking at his fingers, he reaches out and paints the bow of my mouth with my own juices. I lick my lips and taste myself and I taste good. Tangy. Sweet. Yuki cleans his fingers in his mouth, giving me lots of eye contact, and then he is kissing me, lapping at my mouth. I catch his tongue and he tastes like ginger and pussy. My hips are rocking of their own accord and the need to have him hilted inside me is so fierce that I think I might just go insane if he doesn't fuck me now. I am fumbling with the huge All-Around Cowboy belt buckle Yuki bought off of eBay and tugging the button fly of his jeans, trying with great urgency to push or pull buttons in the right sequence to open his pants. He is kissing me like he is trying to crawl inside me, making my brainwaves scatter and I keep forgetting what I am doing. Finally, desperate to get to cock, I break the kiss, ducking my head trying to see what my hands are doing. Yuki follows me, trying to recapture my mouth. I dodge him twice but he finally crowds me up against the counter and takes my mouth again. My hands flutter helplessly. I've defeated the belt buckle, but the tight damp fabric and metal buttons over his erection are defeating me. When Yuki comes up for air, I pant, desire-weak, leaning my bare sweaty back against the cabinet door. My greedy hands are pressing against the denim over his erect flesh and he is pressing back with almost violent little jerks of his hips. "God, Yui, you look so fuckable like that." Yuki's voice is hoarse. He puts right hand on my breasts and alternating, kneads them with a touch that would be painful under different circumstances, but now, hot and wanting, the rough handling only heightens my pleasure. With his left hand, he effortlessly unbuttons the fly of his Levis and after pushing both jeans and boxers down to his knees, he sits back on his heels taking himself in hand...squeezing and stroking. "Oh, yes," I breathe, leaning forward, reaching out to the cock he offers me. He is hard, angry-hot, and oozing clear drops of fluid. He looks beautiful and frightening and very much like salvation from this demon of lust that is eating me alive. "Yes," I repeat, stroking the soft skin, rubbing my fingertips through the stringy pre-cum and bringing those same fingertips, trailing gossamer strands of his lubrication, to my mouth, sucking my fingers clean with loving enthusiasm. With a guttural sound, Yuki pulls my head toward his cock, his hands impatient. Eagerly I start to slide off the stool, onto my knees, but Yuki stops me. "No...stay on the stool...I want you to just bend over and suck it." His flexing hips make his cock sway gently. He is so erect that were it not for the thick weightiness of his penis he would almost be touching his belly button. I hesitate only for a heartbeat, eyeing Yuki and his quivering erection. The comically hopeful, needy expression on his face is easy to read. I laugh, flicking a tiny brown nipple with my middle finger and bend to press a quick kiss on the slippery head of his cock. The engorged flesh pulses and all but writhes at the touch of my lips. My ears are below my knees in this position, but, lucky for Yuki, I am nothing if not flexible. I widen my stance and bend at the waist, bending until my knees are over my head. The frog-like position forces my weeping pussy against the wooden seat and helpless to resist, I rock my hips, masturbating myself against the hard surface. My lips brush sticky kisses on Yuki's cock. He smells like musk and spice. I sigh in pleasure at the feel, the taste, the smell of him. Taking the swollen head into my mouth, I lap his precum-greedy-and burrow my tongue into his hole looking for more. Stretching my mouth wide, I take as much of his satiny hardness into my mouth as I can. I flex my jaws and tongue the ridge of flesh along the underside of the shaft. Moaning in adoration, in appreciation, I try to take him into my throat. "God, little sister, you do that so right." I bob up and down on his cock, my lips catching on the flare of the head, sucking and suckling, trying to milk his cum into my mouth. I lick his fat balls, gently mouthing them within their tight sack and pulling them into my mouth. I burrow further between his legs trying to reach that smooth, sensitive strip of flesh between balls and anus. Yuki is moaning, cupping my head, holding me to him with one hand while the other squeezes the lean muscles of my back and maps the tiny bumps of my spine with increasingly frantic motions. "Little sister...little sister..." He chants, pushing his cock into my willing mouth over and over. The hand Yuki has buried in the hair on the back of my head tightens, immobilizing me. He is thrusting his hips in earnest, fucking my mouth with intensifying force. His pubic hair tickles my nose and the scent of him is so strong here, so sweet that I never want to let go. I hold onto his hips, my fingers fretting against tight muscle, thumbs worrying his hipbones. He is grunting with each stroke and his moist balls are nudging my chin. I feel the flesh of his scrotum tighten, drawing, preparing... Just when I am certain he is going to feed his sweet cum into my mouth, he uses his grip in my hair to pull me off his cock. I stare up at him, disoriented, my mouth in a spit-shiny "O". Yuki makes a noise, part moan, part grunt, roughly rubbing my slick little lips, he slides his thumb into my mouth. I suck it reflexively. Yuki smiles tightly, nostrils frilling, voice like gravel, "I've taught you well, baby. If I put something in your mouth you suck it." I nod because I can't speak. I am too excited, too needy, too wanting. I bend toward the dark red flesh of his cock, fascinated by the flutter and pulse of it. "No, I want to come inside here..." the heel of his palm presses firmly into my tummy, over my womb, and an ache so sweetly painful that for an instant I stop breathing suffuses me, "not your mouth...god, don't look at me like that." A little frantically Yuki is arranging my body to his satisfaction. "Put your hands on my shoulders," he orders and I do it. He hooks his arms under my legs, forcing my slippery sex to the very edge of the stool. Hands on his shoulders, I watch him guide his seemingly huge erection between my legs. My pussy looks so tiny in comparison, like I can't take him, but I know the fragile pink membranes will stretch and his swollen cock will disappear inside me and he will stuff himself, his cum, far up into my womb. Teasing me with his stiffness and heat, Yuki rubs the glossy folds of my sex before he pushes himself into me. And then he is leaning over me, stretching me as he pushes deeper and deeper and deeper. I press my face into the sweat-glossed skin at the base of his neck, tongue tasting the smooth skin there and if anything on earth is more erotic than the taste of him, I do not know what it is. I inhale the tang of Yuki and me and the sexy smell of our hot bodies rubbing, mixing, together. Yuki withdraws and we both look down to watch the fat head of his cock cleaving the plump lips of my sex. He is coated with my juices and even as we watch, I am creaming for him, oozing with excitement. "You are all hard little nipples and tight, wet little pussy," he whispers, watching his flesh merge into mine, his arms jacking my legs higher still, positioning me for his thrusts. Yuki fucks me on that low stool behind the counter in the Magic Peach Bookstore. He fucks me rough and hard and sweet. With my arms around his shoulders and my legs riding the crook of his elbows, he plows into me with the sound of wet, slapping sex and wood scraping across tile. The screeching of the stool's legs startles me, making me tense, tightening me around him...making him moan. He buries himself in me repeatedly, trying to go deeper, as if he is trying to burrow out the other side. He hammers into me, making my little breast jiggle and my back hit the cabinet with a hollow boom. Though painless, the noise distracts me. Then Yuki presses into me again and all thoughts, all fears, simply cease to have importance. All that matters is the taste of his skin, the feel of his cock high and hard inside me and the fact that soon he will spill his cum into my womb. My fingers are fisted in his rough-silk hair and they are damp. I do not know if the sweat is his or mine, or a sweet combination of us both. I smell our sweat and our sex and still, I smell books. The light is dim and there is a look of fierce intenseness on Yuki's face, in his eyes. I am not sure if he is in pleasure or pain, I only know that he is riding me and using me and his cock is filling my cunt so full. I am so full of him. All I can see are his eyes, his black, black eyes. He whispers something against my shoulder, something I do not understand because I am deafened by my own heartbeat. I tug wet fistfuls of Yuki's hair, my body pulling, trying to bow, pressing my thin legs into the hard muscles of his arms. He presses back, fighting me gently, controlling me easily and my climax spills through me, unraveling me in a single moment of pleasure that stretches on endlessly. My sheath tightens around his cock as he rides me with short discordant thrusts, slowing him, milking him until his arms tighten as if he will re-shape me and he comes. I feel the thick pulse and twitch of him inside me and I know that his spunk is spilling high, sweet and thick. Tuesday And in this anointing, in my insanity, I find still more pleasure, sweet and nasty, perfect and profane, my brother's seed warming my womb. I clinch involuntarily around his cock. My sheath milks, clutches, until finally the earth moving beneath me subsides to tremors and becomes aftershocks so that I am poised there, in his arms, spent and boneless in my satiation. My sigh catches on his shoulder. We are utterly still and I am marking the passage of time in the gradually diminishing pulses of Yuki's body inside mine. I can hear the beating of his heart and the faraway, indistinct, pulse of people and cars and the world. I hug my lover, my brother, tighter, inhaling the scent that is him, that is us, and wishing that I had something profound to say...some bit of poetry to quote, some promise that would carry us beyond what we know is coming and into what we wish could be...but I do not. So I say nothing. It is Tuesday. I am one month and 13 days into my eighteen year. Tuesday Tuesday The din of the cars outside was constant. He let his mind wander as it was a novelty when it did. The oft repeated phrase from Thoreau, echoed in his mind: “the mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation”. That was his impression of his surroundings and it’s inhabitants. ---- He was the only child of a single mother that, (he didn’t know this) had a I.Q. that placed him amongst less than a tenth of the world’s population. He was normal in every respect when considered outwardly. The kids at school thought little of him, but when they did they thought he was a nerd. If his school mates had been able to conceptualize at a higher level they would have realized that they ignored him because he scared them. He was different than them in that their conceptions of reality, were to him, superlatives. The teachers at school, save a select few, were also intimidated by him. They knew, that, they of learning and intelligence, were dullards compared to him. He never noticed any of this. His thoughts worked in ceaseless fashion around the metaphysics of life. Not in the noveau sense, but real questions pertaining to man’s responsibility to maintaining a structured moral code while balancing desires for self. His thoughts of heaven and hell came not from rote learning, but fragments of reading interspersed with life events. These abstractions would have stood a graduate student well in a thesis paper. But he knew none of this, nor cared. In a nut shell he was destined for far more than his current situation predicated. ---- He placed his book down on the bed. His concentration would not come back, and he couldn’t figure out why. For the last week or so he had struggled reading his beloved books and still couldn’t assess the reasons for it. Looking around the room he tried to find a focal point to fix his mind upon. The walls were a broken down white that must be mandated for two room apartments everywhere. The fixtures were non-descript and of no help. The t.v. spewed it’s pablum from a tinny speaker encased in cheap plastic. The anchor man reading the news had a distasteful affect that made his eyes continue to roam. There was nothing to focus upon. Soon his eyes rested upon her shoulder. The freckles on it stood out in contrast to the white of her skin. And they displayed a casual symmetry with her shoulder winding their way down towards her back and out of view. Always the observer, he started to look more at the woman lying on the bed next to him. From the shoulder he saw the shirt and it’s curled edges where the sleeves had been cut off. The upper portion of the cut sleeve rested comfortably and crumpled against her neck, revealing the shallow depression where the shoulder, chest and arm meet on the body. The freckles of the shoulder now gone from his thoughts he felt an awareness of the beauty of that depression. It was fragile and delicate and the skin had a purity in presentation that he hadn’t noticed before. Also he noticed the fatty tissue that ascended from this region of her body. Traveling downwards for him to view, and then covered by the shirt. For the first time in his life he looked at a breast with interest. Under the shirt that covered it, he noticed it’s rise from the chest area. Falling and rising in a natural succession. It was not a large breast. He could not quantify it’s size, nor did he wish to. It was to his mind a breast. But it held his interest. And again, for the first time in his life, he felt arousal. The body next to his stirred and rolled into him a little. Not as a lover does while sleeping, but companionship. Her foot touched his. Amused at himself, he reached for the remote and turned the t.v. off. Next came the light and the room was dark. Sleep was elusive. Already his mind had wandered away from the sights he had just viewed. But there was a dissonance to his thoughts compounded by the erection that had developed. ---- The alarm went off. His mind although structured and disciplined, rebelled at the early morning light straining through the window curtain. The sounds of traffic were higher than last night, mixed with voices. The morning was uneventful, punctuated by a shower and coffee that was waiting for him. A note left on the table instructed him to “please pick up my dry cleaning”. He had seen this note before. He was a normal teenager in that he was very forgetful. It was signed, “Mom“. ---- He arrived home from school with his Mom’s dry cleaning in hand. It was placed in her closet carefully as it was her only good suit. She was trying to get a better job; trying to get them out of this Midwestern mediocrity. ---- Sometimes at night, after getting home, she would change into her sweats from her old high school and talk of her dreams to him. They were the moments that made him smile. He could hear the longing in her words for a better life for him and her. He knew that one day he would supplant those dreams by taking her away from here, giving her new horizons to dream from. Most other times she would come home with a smile upon her face and inquire as to how his day was. She was a normal Mom, excepting the fact that she worked two jobs and was exactly twice his age. She also varied in that she knew who and what her son was. She never worried about him. In him she saw a human being that was special beyond all others that she knew. She often tried to assess her objectivity in feeling that way, but knew even as his mother, there was something special about him. She never felt as though she had to be a mom to her son. In fact she felt him as her equal in most ways. He still had a way to go tying everything together, but his maturity was once described by her grandmother as that of “a old wise man”. That was when he was 4. ---- His homework done, he waited for his Mom to come into the apartment. The spaghetti dinner he was cooking was almost done. She walked in a little after 7:00 p.m. A smile upon her face. She looked tired but was rarely ever down. There was a simpleness to her that he knew made him love her all the more. The talk was casual and light. Dinner was cleared and their nightly routine unfolded. One that had started when he was eight. ---- He would finish up his preparations for the coming day. Tidy his room and then go into his Mom’s smaller room and climb onto to the bed with her while she watched one of the few channels they had. He would have a book in hand and read about whatever subject caught his interest this week, memorizing the details in a off handed way that would astound people in years to come. Her bed was a double bed. So they were in close proximity; He propped up on his two pillows to her one pillow, and their shoulders touching. She would usually fall sleep by nine and he by ten. This was their life together. He often times thought that they were more friends sharing a space, than a mother and son. This being the reason for a lack of apprehension falling asleep in his mothers bed at his age. ---- This night he selected one of his history books and climbed into the bed, lying on the comforter as his Mom did. His book casually kept his attention as his mind started to wander again. Seeds of curiosity started to take form in his mind. He wondered why his Mom had never dated, to his knowledge. He looked at her form next to his and saw his Mom watching the t.v. contently. He thought she looked pretty. He couldn’t really compare her to other women as he had never paid attention. Her face was freckled and for the first time he noticed she had full lips. Her eyes were a hazel color that was complimentary to her blondish hair. And her facial structure was symmetrical. She noticed him looking at her and smiled. For the second time in his life he felt himself becoming aroused. His normally ordered thought process started to come apart. He felt a flush to his face and quickly re-opened his book. He tried in vain to continue reading. Over the top of his book he saw her legs extending out towards the end of the bed. A slight stubble was visible down around the ankle area, blackish in color. He put the book down, opened in the form of a arch, on top of his lap. He pretended to watch the show that was playing on the t.v. In his peripheal vision, he traced her legs up to her knees and beyond. Her thighs were visible, or at least half of them were, the rest covered by the same t-shirt she always wore to bed. It dawned on him that this woman had been lying next to him for years half dressed. There started to develop a pain in his penis that he had never felt before. Since he had never masturbated before, he did not know this was pain that was easily relieved. He looked again at his mother’s face, her eyes starting to droop. Her breathing slightly irregular. He looked down again at her thighs and traced the contour of them up to where he supposed her vagina was. As she was lying on her back, he correctly surmised the raised mound of the shirt, was the anterior portion of her sexual organ. Her vagina, he thought. The word itself made his penis ache more. He struggled again, in vain to start his book anew. His wishes being overridden by hormones that were new to him. His thoughts completely muddled by this point. He turned the t.v. and light off. His mother mumbled something while climbing under the covers with him and stretched over, giving him a kiss on the cheek. She turned onto her side away from him. He lay there with his mind a mess. Sleep eventually came. As it did, there came images and illusions. The fluidity of which that characterizes R.E.M. sleep. A warmth spread through his penis that he slowly became aware of. It was a warmth that was created by friction. He was in that state that is awareness confined. He could do nothing about it. In it images played of his mother’s chest covered by that shirt she always wore to bed. Connected to these thoughts were the warmth in his lower regions and a pressure that was steadily building inside him. The disconnect was that of all the things he was aware of, this was not one of them. Like a dam bursting he felt a release that was immediate and exhausting. He felt his penis spasming against something. Conciousness comes quickly at these times, as it did for him. He was aware that he was positioned against his mother, his thighs finishing their last feeble thrusts against her backside. His pajama bottoms sticky and wet along with the shirt that covered her bottom. In a panic and devoid of cogent thought, he rolled onto his back. At the same time his mother got off the bed without turning on the light, walking out of the room. She quickly returned with a towel and without saying a word loosened the fronts of his pajama bottoms and pulled them from his hips. His feeble raising of his hips, perfunctory in nature. She then did the same for his underwear. There was no thoughts in his mind, but that suspended panic. She gently dried him off, only brushing his now flaccid penis. Then tending to herself she, removed her shirt which offered him a profile of her naked torso. She pulled the panties from around her hips and quickly wiped his ejaculate from her backside. To the bureau she turned removing another pair of panties and slipping these on, she then removed a t-shirt from the closet and put this on. He lay there as she crawled into bed. She rolled onto her side, facing him and took him into her arms. She held him this way, soothingly telling him he was okay. Those were the words he fell asleep too. Tuesday NOTE: For adults. It started in sixth grade. That's when my boobies started swelling. No other girl in my class had any breasts at all, but there mine were, and they seemed to get bigger every day. "Sherry's only twelve, but she looks about twenty in some places," said one of the boys. "If you know what I mean." And I did, too. Boys and girls called me cow-names, like "Bossy" and "Elsie". Later, they moved onto things like "Chesty" and "Miss Hooters". I hated it until about eighth grade. That's when boys figured out what to do with them. But you know what? I almost liked it better in sixth grade, when everybody talked about my boobies. At least they didn't pretend they weren't there! All through high school, that's what guys did. They loved feeling them through my sweater, and later, sucking them naked in the back of the car. But they never, ever talked about them. At least not to my face. The girls, either. Oh, I know they talked about them when I WASN'T there. "Can you believe that Sherry?" they'd snap. "She thinks she can just point those big knockers at any guy she wants!" Well, I could. They just didn't like to be reminded of that fact. But when they were around me. "Hi, Sherry, how are you?" Not looking at my chest, not making comments... I suppose it was more... well, polite. But it's less honest! In adult life, it was the same. My big boobs enhanced my social life, sure, but my boyfriends pretended it was a secret. Even the guy I was currently seeing, Jerry... I know how much he loves my titties, but it's not from what he says. It's only from what he does when we're in bed. To hear him talk, you might think I was a double A-cup. I didn't get it. And the same was true of my girlfriends! The less-endowed NEVER made any reference to them, and any friends with comparable chests would talk about them the way you would eccentric relatives. If you don't talk about them, maybe they'll go away. "Well, you know, girls like us can't wear tops like that." Girls like us? Why won't you just say girls with big tits? So all that fed into how I felt about my big breasts. I liked them--I thought. But I understood that they made many people uncomfortable. Everyone seemed to prefer to pretend they weren't even there. Until last Tuesday. Tuesday, all of that changed. Now maybe it was because of what I wore. Nearly all of my bras were in the wash--except that one Jerry bought for me. No, it wasn't a sexy one...at least it wasn't supposed to be. Jerry just thought he might buy me a bra one Christmas, along with my other gifts. Naturally, he was too embarassed to ask me my size, so he tried to check a bra in my drawer and get me one the same size as that. It was really kinda sweet. But as luck would have it, he checked my 'cleavage' bra. The one I wore on those rare occasions that I go to a party, with a low-cut gown. Whenever I do, I want to sort of 'spill' over the top, so I wear a bra that's a little small. I squeeze my triple Ds into a regular D. And that's the bra that I pulled out of the drawer. An ordinary white bra...but two cup sizes too small. I put it on and covered it with what would have been a fairly modest white top with a slight scoop neck and a pair of tight white jeans that showed off my bottom and slim waist. I looked at myself in the mirror. "Damn, Sherry," I said out loud. "You got yourself some big tits." Well, it's a fact, and it can't be helped. I sighed and left my apartment on my way to work. So far, a Tuesday like any other Tuesday, really. "Miss Sherry, you lookin' good," said the doorman at my apartment building. I grinned. "Thank you, Donald," I said politely, and my good mood probably made me stick out my chest a little. Maybe. And maybe not. I walked out the door and headed for the bus stop. Construction workers on a site across the street started hooting and clapping. I'd heard it before, but this time, it seemed different. Usually I hear stuff like "Looking good!" and "Yo, mama!" Today, it was more specific. "Hey, Big Tits!" "Bounce those suckers over this way!" "Shake those milk jugs, baby!" I wasn't sure how I felt about this kind of admiration. But I went on my way. The bus driver opened the door for me, and his eyes immediately focused on my chest. I bent over a little to get the fare from my purse and he began to sweat...even drool a bit. His eyes never left my bust. I think I even caught him casually fingering his crotch as I handed him the money. As I walked into the bus looking for a seat, a young man leaped up and offered me his. "Those need room," he said with a grin. I smiled and accepted the courtesy. Then I thought about what he had said. Was he making a direct reference to... well, to my big boobs? I looked up. The young man was standing over me, staring into my deep cleavage. His eyes met mine. "Thank you," he whispered softly, and went back to his staring. This was odd. This was a little unnerving. I didn't like the way this Tuesday was turning out at all. I decided to get off the bus a block or so early and walk the rest of the way to work. As I made my way through the early morning foot traffic, I found men clearing a path for me. Some simply smiled. Others whistled. A few licked their lips, and I'm sure others even rubbed the fronts of their pants at the sight of me. A group of high school boys ran up and walked alongside of me. They stared at my chest, making me uneasy and causing me to walk even faster. The increase in speed made my breasts bounce each time my heel hit the pavement. The boys liked this. They started accompanying each bounce with a little chant. "Boom...boom...boom," they called, smiling at each other and at me. Or was it "Boob...boob...boob"? Hard to tell. Soon they added hand clapping to their chanting. I blushed, and they murmured with approval at the way the pink coloring on my cheeks traveled from my face to my bosom. My office building was in sight, and I ran to it. Probably a mistake, since the boys started clapping and cheering all the more. "Bounce those big boobies, baby," called one. "Show us your tits!" shouted another. I sought shelter at my desk. My phone rang. "Good morning, it's Sherry," I said. "'Morning, Sherry, it's Gary," said my boss. "May I see you a moment in my office?" "Right away," I said, and got up and knocked on his door. "Come in," said Gary, and I entered. He, too, focused on my outsize bosom. "Sherry, you've got two of the company's biggest assets, and you're not using them to help the firm," he said. "I beg your pardon?" I asked. "What do you mean?" "Your tits, for God's sake!" he shouted, standing and walking toward me. "If you'd just show these big monsters a little more, clients would be lined up out our door!" I was shocked. "Did...did you say, my tits?" I asked. "Good god! Of course!" he said. He walked over and cupped them in his hands. "Whip 'em out for me now. I want to see what we're dealing with." I stood a minute, watching him rub the smooth contours of my breasts. Then got ahold of my senses and I bolted out the door. What in heaven's name was going on? What kind of Tuesday was this? Had the world gone crazy? Tit-crazy? I walked down the street, unsure where to turn. I ducked into a women's clothing store. A young sales clerk approached me. "May I help y... oh, my God!" she squealed. "Look at those things! My word, they're huge!" I couldn't believe my ears. "They're not THAT big," I tried to protest. "Well, maybe not compared to a stripper's big implants, but for real tits, those are really big!" she said, turning to the rest of the staff. All the sales girls crowded around and murmured their approval. The girl who was speaking to my started poking my breasts with her finger. "Mm! Soft and firm!" she said. "I'll bet guys love to stick their cocks between these big fun bags!" "Well, my boyfriend Jerry does, even though he's a little shy abo...hey! What the hell do you think you're doing?" I said, grabbing the girl's hands and pulling them off my mammaries. "Oh, honey, I'm just admiring your tits!" she protested. "I guess I'm jealous! I'd love to see them naked, wouldn't you?" she said, again addressing the rest of the sales staff. The girls nodded agreement. A few male customers wandered over and put in their own enthusiastic "yes" vote by unzipping their trousers. I became convinced I was having some bizarre nightmare. I didn't know what to do or what to think. I ran out of the store and got my cell phone out of my purse. I dialed up Jerry. "Hello?" he answered. "Jerry, honey, it's Sherry," I said as I walked toward the office building where my boyfriend worked. "Something has happened. I'm not sure what. I'm coming over to see you now." "Ohhh! And are you bringing 'the girls' with you?" he said in an odd singsong voice. "I'm alone," I snapped. "What are you talking about?" "I mean are you bringing those gorgeous triple Ds!" he called. I took the phone away from my ear and shook my head from side to side. I couldn't be hearing what I thought I was hearing. I decided I'd give him the benefit of the doubt and assumed I hadn't heard him correctly. I hung up and kept walking over to his building. Jerry had come down to the lobby to meet me. "Sherry, baby, what's wrong?" he said as he walked over with his arms outstretched. At last! Jerry would take me in his arms, kiss me, and tell me everything was going to be alright. But he didn't. His arms were outstretched for a different reason. Instead of kissing me hello... ...he reached below my collosal bust and lifted until his face was surrounded by soft, pliable, and fragrant tit-flesh. He kissed my breasts all over their exposed tops. That was his greeting. In a public lobby. "There's a conference room on this floor that's not being used," he whispered as he began tweaking my nipples. "I've got a key, and there's a great big table. You and I could..." "Jerry! Stop!" I cried, but I couldn't push his hands away. They didn't want to be anywhere else but all over my boobs. "Sherry, stop being silly," he cooed into my ear. He reached around and cupped my behind as he lifted me into his arms. He carried my body easily down the corridor, continuing to push my breasts into his face. We entered the conference room. He placed me gently onto the table and locked the door. "Sherry, I know every man who sees you who wants those tits," he told me. "I'm no different. I gotta have 'em, right now!" "What's got into you?" I cried. "Into everyone?" "What are you talking about?" he asked as he pulled down his pants. "Everyone is going ape over my boobs!" I said. Jerry smiled. "Today is different than any other day?" He kept on his shirt and tie and crawled onto the table and straddled me. "Yes, it is!" I said, as he removed my blouse and too-tight bra. "It's Tuesday!" "Where are 'the girls'?" he giggled, grasping his erection. "This 'boy' wants to be between them!" With that, he grabbed those triple Ds and wrapped them around his 'boy'. Jerry thrust back and forth, squeezing my breasts with his hands. He obviously enjoyed the sensations of my soft breasts around his hard penis. And I started to enjoy it, too. I liked seeing his expression of pure joy as he loved up my chest. Slowly, he moved his hands from the sides of my breasts in order to grab firmly onto my nipples. I reached over and kept pushing my softness into his hardness. He cried out when he had his orgasm. Jerry pointed it right at my two excited nipples and coated them with his cream. I moved my hands from the sides of breasts to the nipples in order to smooth the hot, sticky liquid into my skin. Jerry collapsed beside me. "Next," he whispered, "I'll bang your cunt while I suck on 'em!" "You mean you're ready to go again already?" I asked, not believing my ears or eyes. "You bet!" he cried as he sank it into me and clamped his mouth on my boobies. A girl could get used to this kind of attention, I thought to myself. After a few hours of Jerry's jug-loving, I thought maybe I should get back to my own job. Sure, I'd walked out, but maybe I was being silly. In fact, I called my boss Gary on my cell phone and apologized. I told him I'd been thinking about what he said, and maybe he was right. I'd stop and buy some new, tighter, and lower-cut tops on my way over. I hated to think I wasn't doing my part to help the company! The next morning... Wednesday... was different. Completely. Oh, I still got lots of looks and whistles. But the craziness had stopped. No overt remarks, no men rubbing their crotches in front of me... and no Jerry fucking my tits in a conference room. I'm still not sure what it was I experienced that Tuesday. A dream, a hallucination... or an incredibly well-planned and executed prank. None of those explanations seemed reasonable. Whatever it was, it was over. But the funny thing is...I can't accept that it simply never happened. You see, something had changed between me and Jerry. I can't really describe it exactly. He still doesn't talk about my boobs. But he doesn't pretend they're not there, either. He... he treats me better, I think. With more... reverence. Respect. Like I'm really something special. And it's all because... ...well, because... of Tuesday. Tuesday All the way to 18 and Sally had never even kissed a boy, yet here she was standing in the lounge room of the new kid at school this year. Classes had finished at half-eleven because of a teachers union meeting. There was a twenty minute home-room session and then everyone was free for the day - but Sally's home room teacher Mr Thomas was the school's union leader. He needed to go early so Sally, the class' student association rep, was told to check everyone off the roll before leaving. Sally's friends had planned to meet at the Quadrangle Tree, a giant willow near the front of school, then work out their day from there. It was summer, it was the last year of school, first exams were gone. For once this was a genuine afternoon off. Everybody, even the most do-gooder of study-heads was planning a day off. Group by group, Sally's classmates came to homeroom, checked off and left earlier than the rest of school. Sally expected to be at the Quadrangle Tree before anyone, but it didn't turn out that way. Ten minutes past midday and three students had still not checked in, those ratty north-side girls. They would be off smoking cigarettes, but where? Surely she could just leave, surely she couldn't be chastised for not signing them out - Mr Thomas knew them well enough. A quick look around, if she couldn't find them in five minutes, she would go. 12:35pm at the Quadrangle. She hadn't found the north-side sluts, and she was so late her friends had gone. Fuck. Sally didn't swear a lot, but now was a good time. Her friends had left. The bitches! At least they could have told her where they were going. No, actually they couldn't, she wasn't in her classroom, she was out looking for.... Fuck. They could be at one of a dozen places. Fuck. Those three witches, ooh she would suck up to Mr Thomas and have him flay them for fucking up her entire day. Fuck. What the hell was she meant to do now? It was then Sally noticed Greg, sat alone on the cement border of the lawn, watching her mumble and pace under the tree. The look of bemusement on his face made Sally realise how animated she had been. Embarrassed, she stopped in her tracks. It was Greg who had come over... Now Greg was somewhere in the rear of the house changing his clothes while Sally walked the perimeter of his living room, making a show of looking at all the wall hangings and shelves. She sat on the sofa then stood again, conscious of how short her skirt was when she sat down. It had seemed like twenty minutes since Greg had said he'd be back in a second. Where was he? She felt a sense of anxiety. Sally had never been alone with a boy, and it would be hours before she was accountable for her whereabouts. Part of her was hoping that Greg was interested - she was kind of old to not to have kissed anyone. She knew most of her friends had, some had done more than just kiss. Part of her felt the need not to get it wrong. It was difficult for a teenage girl to know exactly what to do and not to do when it came to boys. Breaking her thought was Greg, appearing suddenly at the doorway behind her. He had taken a shower. To Sally's shock he was wearing only a towel around his midriff. "Are you hungry?", he said, handing her a plate of sandwiches matter-of-factly. "Sure", was all Sally could say, stunned at the situation. Greg was certainly being calm, she thought. Wasn't there something a little unusual about this? Greg sat down cross-legged on the living room floor. He put his own plate down on the carpet along with two bottles he carried under his arm. Sally looked at him and slowly sat on the floor herself. Greg wasn't watching, he was unscrewing the tops from the bottles. She sat opposite with her legs crossed, conscious that possibly her skirt and his towel were the only things in the way of them staring right at each other. Was he wearing anything under that towel? She tried not to look, afraid of being caught. "Do you like Ruski?", Greg asked. "I don't know. What is it? What's in it?" "Vodka". Uh-oh. Sally tried a little bit. Ooh, delicious, that was nice. At least he had told her. Vodka, though. She would drink it slowly. "It's okay", she said. They ate, they drank. Conversation was oddly natural and comfortable, belying the fact that she was sitting across from a half-naked man. They finished lunch, spread out on the floor and talked some more. Sally liked him, she felt attractive, she felt interesting. After time chatting, Greg sat upright and called her over. "Sit up", he beckoned. This was going to get messy, she knew it, and yet she sat. "Come closer". This wasn't a good idea - and yet she found herself moving closer. "C'mon, more, more". Sally moved in a toe-length. "C'mon, closer". Sally moved in some more, only a couple of feet away, her legs now crossed over the top of his. "A little bit more", he said. Sally's stomach churned as she shuffled further toward him. Something was going to happen. Greg reached out with his right hand and took the top button of her shirt in his fingers. Sally was taken aback. Did she want this? He started to undo the button, slowly enough to allow her to object. Sally looked down at his hand and said nothing. The top button was undone, her collar falling slightly away to show the base of her neck. Sally couldn't look Greg in the eye, she could only watch as his hand slowly moved on to the next one. Time was motionless as the second button fell open. Sally felt breeze hit the v of her neck as the shirt dropped away some more. As Greg moved to the third button, the back of his fingers brushed against the top of her breast giving her goose bumps. Her heart was racing. Sally looked up. Greg was checking her eyes for problems but she quickly looked back down, neither approving nor disapproving. For what seemed an eternity, Greg moved from button to button until finished. Her small breasts and their small white bra glimpsed through the gap in her shirt. Her stomach was flat, even sitting like she was. She looked up, absorbing confidence from the glow on Greg's face. Greg lifted his hand and pulled her shirt back over her left shoulder, opening her bra to full view on one side. "Stunning", he said. Sally smiled nervously. With the right side still covered, Greg pulled down the the exposed strap of her bra and ran the back of his hand along her naked collarbone. His fingers ran along the edge of her bra and over her breast as Sally closed her eyes. With both hands, he slid Sally's shirt down to her wrists and moved both bra straps down to her elbows. Her breasts were almost exposed, but when Greg pulled down the front of her bra, daylight spilled onto her nipples. Sally couldn't believe what had happened, how had it come to this so quickly? Her breasts were out. She was with a boy and her breasts were out. She was excited, nervous, anxious, apprehensive, she felt attractive, embarrassed - even moreso as she looked down with a blush at how much padding was in her bra. Considering the situation, Sally thought she was handling it well. But could she go any further? Greg sensed the need for a pause and left the bra there, down around her stomach, and began to run his hands through her hair. It was bizarre, sitting on a living room floor in the middle of the day, breasts covered in goose bumps, nipples standing erect only inches from a towel-clad boy from school. And now he was making her feel wonderful by massaging his hands through her hair, almost putting her to sleep. Having sensed consolidation, Greg pushed back down to Sally's naked chest. He brought his hands down and cupped her breasts, gently rubbing his thumbs over her nipples. Sally could feel herself slipping away. Her body was responding independently of her mind, influencing her behaviour. She didn't know how to stop, or how to explain why they should stop. He was squeezing her breasts, her nipples, her rocky nipples. It was all so new. Just the thought of it, a male running his hands all over her breasts, what would her friends say if they could see her now? Sally was the last person they would expect doing this on a Tuesday afternoon. She was getting all the attention. Did Gary expect something in return? Sally couldn't tell. She wouldn't know what to do anyway. His touch fluctuated from gentle to gripping. She thought of her conversations with her girlfriends, she decided Greg could do what he liked as long as it was above the waist, that was okay wasn't it? Almost intuitively Greg's mouth leant down onto her right nipple. Oh dear, that was... her body was taking charge, but it was okay. Everything would be okay, she could enjoy it, just as long as they stayed up top. Sally fell back to the carpet and Greg's lips remained latched to her breasts. She ran her hands through the back of his hair, squeezing on clumps as chills electrified the muscles in her chest. The breeze on the saliva that covered her nipples accentuated her feeling of nakedness. Greg reached around and removed her bra completely, kissing her stomach as his hands retained their grip on her breasts. His chest was pushing between her legs and her vagina twinged. This was borderline, any more and she would have to find a way to stop. Her skirt sat high on her hips, stopping Greg from moving his tongue further down. Thankfully he moved up, spending more time on her breasts, then her neck. Sally ran one hand over Greg's back as he sucked harder and harder on her shoulder, leaving a love-bite. He went down and did the same near her nipple, and once near her cleavage. She had swim class tomorrow, people would clearly see what she had been doing today. "Give me some more." "More what?" "Of those." Greg smiled and went back to her body. He covered her breasts in bruises, most of which would show out the sides of her swimsuit. Greg sat on Sally's hips and admired his work. "They've had a workout", he said looking at the mess he had made of the top half of her body. Sally looked down toward her breasts, then realised that Greg's towel had come away. She could clearly see the top of his penis pushed against his stomach. It was the first time that Sally had ever seen an erection. Greg noticed the shock on Sally's face. "What?", he asked, knowing full-well what the issue was. Sally just looked at the ceiling. Greg stood up, holding out a hand for Sally to stand as well. Sheepishly she took it, but even Greg could tell they had reached an awkward moment. Sally let Greg pull her to her feet and for the first time she stood face to face with a naked male with an erection. She couldn't look at his body, and didn't want to get too close. She was a skirt and panties away from a tricky situation. She would see what Greg was doing before reacting. The situation had become tense. Greg spoke first. "C'mon, let's do something else", he said and moved away, expecting her to follow. Do what, she thought. Sally reached for her clothes. "You don't need those, come on", Greg told her. He took her hand and led her through the house. Aware of the open curtains, Sally held her hand over her chest as she followed along behind this naked boy. This had better not be leading to his bedroom, she would leave straight away. Past the kitchen the hall opened up into a billiard room facing the outside deck and rear garden. Walls on three sides were mostly glass sliding doors, draping the room in brilliant sunshine. Again there were no curtains, but the yard was private. Greg brought her attention back inside. "Can you play, or do I have to show you how?". Sally looked around the room and at the table. "I've played before". She noticed that Greg was more relaxed, his erection had fallen away. When she thought about it, now was the first time she had stood in front of a naked male who didn't have an erection. He set up the balls on the table and Sally watched his body as he moved over and took two cues. "Any preference?", he asked, showing her both. "No..". Greg walked behind the bar and took two more Ruski's from the fridge, opening them and leaving them on the counter. Her mouth was dry, Sally drank half a bottle. She could feel the alcohol. She could hardly believe what she was doing. Dressed only in her skirt, her body covered in love-bites, about to play billiards with a naked boy and no idea where this was going. They played. Sally had her breasts kissed every time she potted a ball. It was wonderful, she stuck them forward for him each time he came over. She drank her drink and opened another. Greg would stand behind her and wrap his hands around onto her chest. She could feel his penis pushing against her skirt, erect again. She watched him moving around the table, Greg touching and sucking every time they came near. Sally finished another drink as Greg leant over to play a table-length shot. She moved around into his line of sight. With her back to the window, she undid the button of her skirt and slowly pulled down the zipper. Greg didn't move, only lifting his eyes from the shot. With a flick of her hips the skirt fell to the ground. He looked at her, she looked back. Small and shapely hips wrapped in the smallest of soft white panties, her mound pushing noticeably forward as you find with flat-stomached girls. Sally's hands moved to her hips, inside the elastic of her panties. After just a moment's hesitation, she pulled them to the ground. "Stunning", said Greg as he stared at the tuft between her legs, the daylight between her thighs silhouetting the lips of her vagina. "Stunning". He played his shot without taking his eyes off her. Sally looked down at her own naked body. Why had she just done that? Greg didn't get too close, but followed her like a puppy. She was in every way a brilliant nude, even more so in motion. For her part Sally was amazed that she had just taken her clothes off in front of a naked boy. She knew that a line had been crossed. But for the moment she was in heaven having a boy flaberghasted at the sight of her. It was extraordinary. They played like this for at least another half hour. Greg's game disintegrated, his eyes and thoughts followed her nakedness everywhere it went. He knew the naked body in front of him had not been seen before by a man, not like this. After winning a game, Sally stood at the table. Greg came to her from behind. He kissed the back of her neck, one hand reaching around taking a breast, the other to her stomach, his erect penis for the first time touching the bare skin of her backside. Having taken off her own pants, Sally knew she would struggle to control the situation completely, but she still had thoughts they would only touch. Invariably Greg's left hand moved down between her legs. They were closed, but he motioned them open. Sally was unsure of what he would do. What do boys want with vaginas? A finger ran along her lips. It was dry and uncomfortable, but then the finger found its mark and came out with moisture. Suddenly the movement was fluid and smooth. She opened her legs further. A finger was sliding along from her clitoris to her vagina, dashing inside and then back again, the other hand squeezing her breast, pulling her nipple. This was a revelation, it was hard to imagine such a feeling existed. No wonder people were obsessed with sex. Sally's pelvis swayed involuntarily back and forth. Greg's right hand was away from her breast and onto her backside, pushing one leg up onto the table. Greg stepped back, taking a quick photograph in his mind before moving in and running his middle finger straight into Sally's vagina from behind. Sally was biting her bottom lip, leaning over the billiard table. She was scared by what was happening to her, but was hardly going to stop. How could she have known that she would love being fingered so much. Greg pushed two fingers into her, struggling for a while until she opened her legs even further, stretching to take them. He was slapping the fingers in and out as Sally began a high-pitch moan. Greg stopped, took his fingers out and turned her around. "Are you okay?" "Uh-huh", was all Sally could manage as a reply, trying to catch her breath, and then "Are you stopping?" Greg smiled and slid two fingers back into her from the front. He pushed them in deep this time and wiggled his fingertips about. He could see her eyebrows quiver and again she was biting her bottom lip. "Touch me", said Greg. "Uh-huh", Sally reached out and took a penis in her hand for the first time. "Your first?" "Uh-huh". "It's okay, just run slowly and softly up and down, move as fast as my fingers in you". Greg and Sally masturbated each other until their wrists were tired. Sally's hips were vibrating, she struggled to keep standing. Her vagina squelched with the pace of his fingers, recklessly spraying slop in every direction, over both of them and onto the hardwood floor. Her head was light with oxygen as she sucked air with the speed of the fingers slapping into her. "So, how are we going to get this into you?", asked Greg, wrapping his hand around hers on his penis. "I don't know", Sally said, slightly disorientated. "Perhaps we shouldn't do this, not today. Let me practice with your fingers first. Maybe I'll get bigger". "No" "What do you mean..no?" "You need to be fucked today". "Greg, come on, look at us, look at me. I hardly knew you before today, I've never had sex of any kind, my entire body is naked, you're naked, my legs are spread, my breasts are covered in love-bites that everyone will see at swimming tomorrow, my hand is wrapped around your penis, you have two fingers in my vagina, during the day, in your billiard room in full view of the yard. This has been kinda a big day for me, don't you think it's enough for a starter? We can do this again, can't we?" "You need to be fucked today," Greg simply repeated, "Turn around". "Turn around?", Sally was getting nervous, "Have you heard a word of what I've just said?" "Turn around, lean on the table and open your legs", Greg calmly ordered. "Greg...", Sally said meekly. Greg took her by the hips, turned her body around and knocked her legs open with his feet. He pushed her face down onto the green matting of the billiard table. "Greg, I'm dry now, it won't work. C'mon, not today". Taking a moment's heed of this, Greg moved behind her, knelt down and buried his face between her thighs. His tongue sank as deep as it could and he licked her back to wetness. Ooh, she'd not be saying no to that anytime soon. He stood up and directed his penis to the opening of her vagina. "Greg, c'mon, can't we do this next time", Sally begged, her thoughts back on the issue of her virginity. "Open your legs more", Greg said. Sally closed her eyes. She opened her legs. Greg's penis pushed against the right spot. He gave tiny thrusts which made little slopping sounds as he coated his penis in moisture. Once wet enough, he pushed the head of his penis inside. It was hard work and Sally wasn't making the bubbly noises she was earlier when being fingered. Keeping on the pressure and with occasional thrusts, Greg made steady progress inside her virgin cunt. Slowly but surely her vagina gave way and fitted around him, all of him. It took five minutes, but he was in as far as he was going to be. A virgin, now an ex-virgin. He held his penis up inside of her. "So?", he asked, "What do you think?" "I don't know", said Sally, face pushed onto the table felt. "Just don't move". "See, now you've had a big day..." "I can't believe I'm lying face down on a billiard table with a boy inside me. How did I get here?" "Through good luck", answered Greg. "Now it's time to fuck". And Greg did. He pumped her from behind with no regard for her level of experience. Her feet were lifted from the ground with each thrust, she was literally being lifted up by her cunt. Luckily for Sally the angle she was at was the one of least resistance, so despite the constant slapping of his pelvis against her backside Sally wasn't in unbearable pain. If anything, she began to pick up the rhythm. Tuesday Greg was really slamming at her now. Her cunt was wet and she could feel his penis milking more juice out of her with each slam, it was running down her thigh. She squelched and slurped, there was a crack with each slap of her backside by his thrusts, the billiard table began creaking, Greg was grunting at his work. So this was fucking, being fucked. She didn't expect her first to be from behind. Her cunt was being worked hard but was pushing wider to allow the intrusion, keeping wet. It had all been so unplanned, and yet here she was being pummelled by a boy from school and she could no longer remember being a virgin. The concept of not fucking seemed so far in the past, she knew that she would be expected to do this now every time she was alone with a boy. Boys would expect her to fuck them, and she would fuck them. At school some girls do, some don't. Sally knew what was coming for her, she could see it. Sally would fuck. She would let a boy take off her pants, she would let him spread her legs, she would let him play with her, she would let him fuck her cunt. How could she not? Why would you not want to feel like this over and over and over? "Shall we try a different way?" Greg pulled out and Sally crawled up onto the billiard table and lay on her back, opening her legs. She was more gluggy than wet, but Greg managed to push inside her easier than last time. He moved in and out of her slowly as she wrapped her arms around him and kissed his neck. She tried to give him a love-bite but couldn't. Greg laughed. "Do you want to try on top?" They rolled over with difficulty, Sally couldn't get up top without him popping out. Before putting him back in, she sat on Greg's penis and rubbed her vagina lips up and down it's length before taking her hand and directing the penis into her cunt. Her tight breasts dangled toward Greg as she pushed down awkwardly until she sat comfortably on his hips, his length inside her. "Look at this body", said Greg, "Perfect breasts, perfect backside, stomach, sloppy vagina wrapped around my penis. How can I ever see you clothed again? How can I not be inside your cunt?" "So is it me you want or just a fuck?" "You don't want me to answer that right now". He reached out and grabbed her breasts. Sally lay her hands on his chest and tried moving up and down on his penis. It was still awkward, but she was fucking, actually fucking a penis. She slid it's length in and out of her, lifting up and pushing down, lifting up and pushing down hard. How could she have guessed she would do this today? And they still had hours before she needed to be home. Sally began to like it, her vagina feeling empty every time they changed position. She liked it best from behind, Greg would play with her clitoris as he drove her. She was pressed up with her breasts against the window when Greg first came inside of her. She felt the surge and the warmth spill into her vagina. Not only had she been fucked, but she would go home full of sperm. They went for a walk around the garden after that, Sally dripping semen down her leg and along the path. How things had changed. She liked being outside, she almost wished somebody was looking, that someone would watch as she took a penis. She almost wished her friends could see her, catch her and Greg at it, see what she had become. "Can we do it here?", she quietly whispered in Greg's ear at the bottom of the garden, surprising herself and Greg. It had driven him crazy. He took her noisily and violently, using her breasts as handles, slam-fucking her from behind, again coming inside her. No heads popped over the fences to see. Sally felt a tinge of disappointment. Inside they showered together, and Greg talked about all the things he would do to her body. Sally wasn't ready yet to add her own suggestions, but didn't show objection to the things he was saying, despite the unlikeliness of half of them happening. She didn't think she would do it with a pool cue. Which end would you use? In all she was feeling comfortable at being naked, she was enjoying exposing herself to this guy. Greg came inside of her three times that day, something that brought her sexuality to life. Sperm lived for days inside a vagina, she would be sitting in class tomorrow with millions and millions of males swimming around inside her cunt. The thought was thrilling. And when the girls, and especially the other boys, saw her body covered in love-bites, she knew they would look at her differently. Greg walked Sally home with her underwear in his pocket. He had her open the top buttons of her shirt, enough for the discerning to see she was braless and occasionally for her breasts to be seen. It was a windy day, which had her skirt up off her backside more times than she would have preferred, the breeze chilling the moisture between her thighs. At least a dozen people must have seen her cunt. They stopped to say goodbye just short of her house. Instantly one, then two fingers went back into her vagina and his lips dashed into her open shirt on to her breasts. Sally looked around, she was getting fingered and sucked on the footpath of her street. She wasn't disappointed this time that she couldn't see anybody watching. "I don't think I'm going to be able to walk tomorrow, and I can already feel my chest aching", she said holding one breast up, helping it to be kissed. Greg moved back and pulled her over, by her vagina, to the neighbour's fence so he could sit. Sally stood in front of him with her arms crossed as he continued to slide his fingers into her. "Ah, but what a day for your cunt", he said, forcing his fingers in deep. "I can't believe I had sex. I can't believe you did this to me, I'm the last person anyone would expect to do what I did today. You even came in me. I don't think anyone would believe me if I told them." "You were just lucky that I chose you from all the other girls. I would have thought perhaps some sort of thank-you was appropriate...." "Mmm, I think you got your money's worth". "Maybe girl, maybe. I've got to get back and get the stench of sex out of the house though, before anybody comes home", he said. "So when can we do this again?". "When the next teacher's union meeting?", she smiled. "Someone told me it's once a year", Greg looked at her. "Then I'd say it's going to be difficult to spend a whole day together", she thought out loud. "It will just have to be somewhere else. Outside, a park or something after school." "Where could we do that without being caught? And on weekends I'd have to say where I was." "Camp is coming up". "Completely supervised", Sally shut that door. "We could both be sick one day", Greg suggested. "Egh, my mother would take the day off to look after me if she thought I was sick. ..Ooh.", he'd hit a sweet spot in her vagina. "Can't you just say you're going shopping or something on Saturday, then round to someone's place? There must be someone who could cover for you, someone your parents know, but not so well they would check". "It would probably only work once". "Well, once would do for a start, give us time to think of another plan". "So where would we go?" "We could actually meet at the mall for a start, help avert suspicion." "What about the Hotel on the Boulevard. Do you have any money? How much would it cost?", Sally couldn't access her cash without approval. "I've got money. We could get a room with a balcony since you seem to like doing it outside." "Overlooking the Boulevard! I don't think so." "We probably couldn't check in til later in the afternoon, though." "That's alright. I'll tell them I'm staying with Marcie at her family's shack Saturday night. I won't be expected back until Sunday evening, then." That sent a chill through both of them. Spending the night with each other, what an experience. "Geez, how many fucks would that get in?" "Well you had better bring some sort of gel or something if you want to do me for that long. I'm not sure how much I can take." "Yeah, okay." "And condoms if you are going to keep coming inside of me. Or I should start calling you Daddy, just for practice. Daddy. Hello Daddy." "Mmm." She started rubbing his crotch on the outside of his trousers. The palm of his hand was soaked from her vagina leaking down his fingers. "Wear something sexy, yeah. No underwear." "What would I have that's sexy?", she said, "I live at home." "Well small, then, you must have something that doesn't cover much." "Maybe. What do you want to see?", she was grabbing his penis through his trousers now. "Thighs, shoulders, midriff. And nipples." "Hmm." Her head rocked back for a moment as he started to move his fingers faster inside her. "We'll see. You'd better go, one of them is usually home by now. I need by bra and panties." "No way, you can have then back on Saturday" "Look, you fucked me, but you're not getting away with this one. If those things are missing from the wash, I'll never be able to explain it to Mum." "Okay, but no underwear on Saturday, agree?". He took them from his pocket, holding them high n the air. "So what are you going to do, scream?" "I could, so be careful. Saturday, 11am, in front of Muzic. Make sure you do the booking, and bring some gel." With a final squeeze of his penis she walked off, Greg's fingers dropping out of her with a squelch. She walked inside her house for the first time with her panties and bra in her hand, not on her body. When her Mum got home later, she asked Sally about her day. "I had lunch with a boy from school", Sally told her. Sally's mum raised her eyes from the mail. "Oh yes.... Behaved yourself I hope." "Mum, as sad as it is, I can honestly tell you I have never kissed a boy in my life". "Don't worry, dear, there'll be plenty of time for that", she said sympathetically. And with that, they started to make dinner. Tuesday "Not tonight David, I'm tired." That was my wife Darla's response every time I tried to make the move on her. I don't think we'd had sex in four or five months. I hadn't even asked for over a week. This particular night I was exceptionally horny and was not going to be able to get to sleep, so I got up and headed for a shower while my wife rolled over in bed and headed off to sleep. I had made a habit of having late night showers and rubbing one off whenever I felt sexually frustrated, which was quite often of late. Luckily we had two bathrooms, one right by the bedrooms and another down the other end of the house next to the guest room. I always used the far bathroom so I didn't disturb our three children down the other end of the house. I stood there letting the hot water run down my tight muscular 37 year old body as I held onto the top of the shower frame with my left hand and pumped my right hand over my rock hard seven and a half inch cock while I fantasised about fucking the aussie model Miranda Kerr doggy style. It wasn't long before my entire body tensed and I let out a muffled grunt as my semen flew through the air and splattered itself against the glass wall of the shower. After my cock stopped shooting and I came down from my climax I was finally able to relax and allow the hot water to work out some of the tightness in my muscles before I got dry and headed back to bed. On the way back I noticed the hum of the PC in the study next to the guest room. Damn kids, always left it on at night. I went in to turn it off but decided to check my email first. There was nothing important there, but my buddy Darren had sent me a link to a funny you tube video so I followed it. As usually happens when I visit you tube, I ended up stuck following link after link and losing track of time. At one point I wanted to go back to a previous video so I could follow a different related link so I hit Ctrl+H to bring up the browser history. I was scanning down the list of you tube pages when some of the entries further down the page caught my eye. What was Literotica? I scanned the page titles that had been viewed and was shocked. "Daddy Dearest", "My Daughter's Pussy" and "Cum on me Daddy!" were some of the titles that stuck out. I was partially horrified but also intrigued. Who had been looking at these pages? I clicked on the first one "Daddy Dearest". It was an erotic story, in the Incest/Taboo section of Literotica which I realised was an erotic story website. I ended up reading the entire thing. It was about a man catching his step daughter having sex with her boyfriend, then one thing leads to another and she gives him a blowjob to persuade him not to tell her mother. I couldn't help compare the step daughter in the story to my own step daughter Lori. Her father was Darla's ex-husband whom left her when Lori was two years old. Darla got full custody, but he saw her every second weekend. I married Darla when Lori was four and have helped raise her ever since, alongside our own kids Jacob and Hanna. I had some conflicting emotions reading the story. On one hand it was very hot, even the idea of someone else receiving oral sex from his step daughter was quite a turn on for me. But on the other hand I couldn't stop imagining Lori doing the cock sucking which was a turn off, although it didn't stop me from reading. Perhaps a secret part of me wasn't as opposed to that as I would have liked. When I finished the story I forced myself to shut down the machine and go to bed. Despite having my carnal urges expunged and plastered all over the shower wall, I still couldn't sleep for thought of whom had been reading these stories. The most likely candidate was Jacob as I knew he had sex on the brain, I even caught him masturbating a few times and had to give him the "It's a normal part of growing up." talk, but he had a computer in his room and wouldn't have used the one in the study. So I was left with my wife or one of my daughters. The question weighed on me until well into the early morning. The next morning at breakfast it was a madhouse. Thursday was the only morning of the week when everyone was getting ready to head out at the same time. Darla and I work full time, Lori and Jacob were studying at University and Hanna was in High School. "Short ass." called Jacob, directing his derisive comment at Lori as she tried unsuccessfully to reach some cereal on the top shelf. At almost exactly 5 feet tall Lori was the shortest in the family, inheriting the trait from her biological father. Jacob, Hanna and I were all over 6 feet while Darla was 5'8". Lori also carried around a head full of fiery red hair that she kept past her shoulders, also from her father. "Will you just get it for me? Jackass!" Lori replied when Jacob walked right past her. What she lacked in height she made up for in a fiery confidence and self assuredness that matched her red hair. At 23 years old Lori was studying teaching at University, she had a lot of down time due to her class schedule but Thursday was one of her full days so unlike usual she was up early getting breakfast with the rest of us. Jacob was already sitting down and didn't look like he was about to move. Jacob was 19 and in his first year of software engineering with the intention of getting into computer games. I suppose he was a bit of a geek. Physically he looked the part, slim but not built. Not very social, only a few friends and I'd never seen him go out with a girl. But like I said earlier, I knew he was interested in them. Or did I not mention that he had certain images of women displayed on his computer monitor when I caught him in the act? "Inconsiderate little shit." said Lori as Hanna left her breakfast of two pieces of toast to get up and help her sister. Hanna was 18, in her last year of High School and the party girl of the family. The really brazen one. Although she had her drivers license and a car, she constantly wanted lifts to and from various parties so she could drink. As mentioned she was over 6 foot, perhaps 6 exactly and had pure blond hair to her shoulders. "Grow a little and he won't have to be." Hanna told Lori jokingly. Everyone ate their breakfast and discussed their day before drifting off separately until I was the only one left in the house. I worked at a local car dealership as a salesman and due to how close to home it was I was always the last to leave. Later that afternoon I got home early as Greg had to close up the dealership so he could meet his pregnant wife at the hospital. I found Lori's car in the driveway. She must have finished school early for some reason. She wasn't in the lounge or kitchen so I wandered toward the bedrooms to say hello when I heard something that made me stop in my tracks right as I was about to call out to her from the corridor. "Ohh yeah baby, just like that. Give it to me." called a seductive female voice. I had an instant flashback to reading the story where the step daughter was caught fucking her boyfriend red handed. My brain raced at a million miles an hour as it tried to make sense of the sounds. It felt like forever before I realised that wasn't actually Lori's voice. Relief and confusion swept over me at once. I inched closer towards her door and found it was wide open, I guess she wasn't expecting anyone home this early. A moment before I could see anything I realised what the sounds were exactly, a video being played on the TV. Lori was watching porn. Not just any porn, but my porn. She was watching an old video tape from my private collection that we kept at the back of our wardrobe. Then I passed the door frame and could see the TV. Lori's room had the door situated in the middle of the room with her TV and dresser on one side and her bed the opposite. So from this angle I had a clear view of the action on the TV but Lori and I couldn't see each other. A blonde woman was bent over a large four post bed while a man stood behind her fucking her with what looked like a monster cock. I remembered this one, she was a maid who had been caught masturbating in her employer's bedroom. I watched silently from the hallway for a moment, wondering what to do. Then I headed back to the lounge room intending to leave and come back in an hour or so. Then I stopped, those Literotica stories had infected my mind. Instead of leaving her to her privacy like I should have I couldn't stop thinking that perhaps Lori was the one reading those dirty stories. I'm not sure why that made me want to confront her but I turned back around and headed for her door. When I stepped fully into the door frame I was greeted with a glorious site. My 23 year old step daughter was lying on the bed watching the action on screen with her jeans pulled down to her ankles, her knees bent and spread to either side, red hair spread out over her pillow and her right hand fingering her pussy. I didn't get a very good look however as I instinctively spun around so I couldn't see anything. "Oh shit! David!" she cried as I heard her struggle to pull her pants up, falling off the edge of the bed in the process. She never called me dad, despite raising her she didn't feel comfortable calling me that as that's what she called her biological father. "What the hell are you doing here?" she asked when I heard her finish dressing. I turned back around now, sure the coast was clear. The video was still playing and Lori grabbed for the remote and fumbled with it for a moment before stopping the video. "Finished work early." I said. "Um. It wasn't what it looked like." she said, unsteadily. I laughed, "It looked like you were masturbating to one of my videos." I said. We both stood there awkwardly for a moment as she gathered her thoughts. "Well, yeah. But it's a one off thing and I promise I'll never do it again! Please don't tell anyone." I had another flash to the Literotica story where the girl bought her Dad's silence with a blow job. "Relax. It's natural." I said, reminded of my talk with Jacob a while back. I knew Lori didn't need the talk, I had a hunch she was already pretty experienced in this area, but I needed her to feel at ease as she normally talked to her mother about this sort of thing. "I won't tell anyone," I continued, "I'm just surprised that you're interested in this sort of thing." I gestured at the lewd video cover sitting on the floor. Lori scrambled to pick it up and tossed it under her bed so I couldn't see it. She was clearly uncomfortable; her cheeks matched the colour of her hair. "Don't worry about it." I stressed, "Just return the tapes when you're done, feel free to borrow whatever you'd like in future." She looked at me dumbfounded as I walked away. I saw her eyes flick down right as I turned to leave, it was only then I noticed I had a massive hard-on pressing on the inside of my trousers making a very distinct bulge snaking across my leg. I was stunned my daughter had just glimpsed the shape of my cock. But more stunning was that I didn't know if it was hard over the porn I'd just seen, or the glimpse of my step daughter herself. "Wait." she called. I stopped in the hallway where I was and looked over my shoulder, not wanting to turn around and reveal my dick once more. "You really don't mind if I watch these?" she asked embarrassed. "Of course not. You're a grown woman." I said, then started walking off before I stopped again. "The more recent stuff like DVDs are up on the top shelf." I couldn't believe I said that, I couldn't believe that whole incident had taken place. I was wishing I had just left her to her privacy. I spent the rest of the day kicking myself and avoiding Lori as best I could. It was a few days before anything came of this incident. Lori went red occasionally when she looked me in the eye but otherwise everything was normal. Until Tuesday night the following week. On Tuesdays Lori and I are usually the only ones home for a few hours. This particular Tuesday I was in the study on the computer. I had decided to read some more erotic stories, and delete the history afterwards of course. I went back and read all the stories that I thought Lori had been reading based on the browser history. They were extremely explicit stories involving girls and their fathers having all kinds of sex. One of them was about a brother on holiday with his sister and five of her friends, where he ended up fucking every one of them in a hot tub. I found them all hot as hell and my cock strained against the jeans I was wearing. I wanted to jack off while reading, but I didn't want Lori to walk in on me. I walked out to the kitchen for a break and poured myself a drink. While I was there I heard more moaning from Lori's room. Was she watching more of my videos? While knowing I was in the house? I walked up to her room silently, aware that my cock still raised a massive tent in my pants. I was amazed to find her door open again. She was watching my porn with the sound on and her door open. Did she want me to see her doing it? I watched the action on her TV for a while, hidden from her by the door frame. It was a DVD this time, much better video quality. Two girls were sucking on a guys cock while a third girl was on her back being fucked by a big guy nearby. My own dick ached for attention, but I resisted giving it any. After a moment I swiftly walked past her door towards my own bedroom just to make sure she knew I was home. I waited with bated breath, sitting silently on the bed waiting to see if she stopped the video. She didn't. Crap, now I had to walk back and she would be able to see my hard on. After a few minutes agonising over it I decided to walk back. My hard-on wasn't going away any time soon and it didn't sound like she was stopping soon either. As I passed her door I noticed her looking right at my crotch then quickly up to my face as we smiled at each other. She was so brazen I half expected to see her naked with fingers up her snatch, but she was sitting on her bed fully clothed with her hand down the front of her track suit pants. She quickly pulled her hand out of her pants as I passed but didn't show any other signs of stopping. I headed back to the computer when Lori called out from her room. "Are you sure it's ok for me to watch this?" she said, looking for more validation. "Yes, of course. You can do what you want." I didn't know what else to say, and as unsteady as I was about it a few days earlier I knew then that I didn't want to discourage it. And so a pattern established itself. Every Tuesday night I would read erotic fiction in the study, and occasionally some short porn clips on the PC while Lori masturbated to porn in her room. I became more and more interested in the incest stories on the site and my resistance to sexual thoughts about Lori lessened steadily. I would occasionally walk past her room out of curiosity. I'd watch some porn on the way past, then get a glimpse of what she was doing on the way back. After a couple of weeks she stopped pulling her hand out of her pants when I walked past. On that day I went straight to the bathroom and immediately jerked myself off. Nobody else in the family had any idea the secret kinky things that were happening on Tuesday nights. This continued for a few months until Lori stepped it up a notch. She came out to the lounge in her PJs, sat on the couch and put some porn on the big HD screen. I could see her clear as day from the study. I walked out into the lounge room and stood nearby watching the action on screen as the movie started. It had one of those montages at the start where they show the female credits over clips of them taking cocks in every hole. I didn't recognise the pornstars being introduced. "This isn't one of mine." I said. "It's Jacob's." she replied. "I found a blu-ray in his room and I don't have a player. Do you mind if I play it here?" I paused for a moment, but only a moment, "No, knock yourself out." I said, then headed to get a drink in the kitchen. When I got back Lori had her hand down her pants and was really going at it, not showing any sign of stopping when I walked past. This continued each week, escalating most weeks. The week after the move to the lounge I didn't just watch for a minute or so while taking a break from Literotica, I sat down and watched it with her. Sitting on the other couch of course. She didn't masturbate with me sitting there, but I could tell she wanted to. I wanted to as well, my cock was almost ready to tear a hole in my pants. The week after that she masturbated with me sitting there watching alongside her, discretely with her hand down her pants. The week after that I rubbed my hard-on through my jeans, quite furiously after a while. I saw her watching me when she didn't think I was looking, I could tell she was fascinated. The rest of the week in between these sessions was excruciating. I saw my step daughter in a whole new light now, resisting the urge to constantly perve on her was difficult at best. And waiting for everyone else to leave on Tuesday nights was the worst. We also started talking to each other a bit about the action on screen when we were watching the porn. Commenting on how unbelievable the various scenarios and "plot lines" were or Lori would make a comment about how large some guys penis was and I'd admire some chicks large rack. We also discussed our own sex lives. I told her about my troubles with her mother and she told me about her last boyfriend who dumped her because she didn't want to give him a blow job yet. She also revealed that she'd had sex with 3 different guys. Eventually, after more than a month of openly watching porn with my step daughter I couldn't take it any more. Watching my hot redhead step daughter finger herself under her clothes while we watched ridiculously good looking people fuck was too much for me, especially knowing I'd have to wait a whole week to do it again. So one night while I sat there with my balls aching I unzipped my pants and pulled my rock hard dick out before I could stop myself. It was so hard I had trouble getting it through the zipper. "I hope you don't mind." I said, "I couldn't stand it any more." Lori's mouth dropped open slightly as she stared openly at my seven and a half inch cock; But she didn't utter any objections so I settled back, gripped my shaft and started stroking while my daughter watched. I kept my eyes on the TV screen, but I wasn't really watching the guy ramming his cock in some pornstar's ass hole, I was thinking about Lori watching my dick as I jerked it in the open air. Not long after I pulled it out, Lori stood up, swiftly dropped her track pants and revealed her bare ass to me. Then she sat down, spread her legs and started fingering her pussy in full view. Her dark reddish pubic hair was trimmed into a small V shape and her clitoris was quite large, just like her mothers. Now it was my turn to stare. "Those pants were getting in the way so bad." she said. We continued masturbating in front of each other while the movie played. Somehow Lori was first to reach orgasm and she was very vocal. "Oh fuck, that's gooood." she cried as she bucked on the two fingers she had lodged in her vagina. Only moments later my own climax came crashing over me. My cock erupted hot cum into the air and it landed all over my pants and hand as I grunted in pleasure. Luckily none of it missed me completely or it may have stained the furniture. Lori sighed contently then rose from her seat and walked to the kitchen where she collected a tissue box and handed it to me. I got a great view of her nice plump yet trim ass and sleek pussy as she walked there and back completely bottomless. That was the end of festivities for the night as she got dressed and I zipped myself up after cleaning up my spunk. The smell of sex was quite strong so I grabbed some air freshener and sprayed it around liberally. Tuesday After this our weekly activities became more blatant. We didn't beat around the bush so to speak, we were there to watch each other masturbate and we both knew it. We started watching porn the next week but then quickly stopped the charade and turned the TV off. Watching each other was enough to get us off, so we sat there and played with ourselves while directly facing each other. "Can I see your breasts Lor? Might help me get off." I asked once she'd turned off the TV. I felt a bit dirty asking as if doing so lent a sense of reality to the situation, this was my little girl that I was asking to expose her breasts. Perhaps not biologically, but in all other ways. My cock got even harder at the reminder and the dirty feeling quickly left me. Rather than respond, Lori simply lifted her Pyjama top up and over before throwing it on the ground. She didn't wear a bra with her PJs so her tits were completely exposed to my view immediately. Why didn't I ask for this the week before? Lori had a large bust, 34D. What I didn't know was exactly what they looked like now that she was a grown woman. Now that my eyes lay upon them I was amazed at how beautiful they were. Soft pale skin, completely unblemished, only broken by large pale nipples that were currently sticking out like pencil erasers. They looked so hard that she could poke an eye out with them. They were not as large as Darla's darker nipples despite the breasts themselves being larger. Lori started playing with her nipples with her left hand while she worked her snatch with the right. "Want to return the favour?" she asked, snapping me out of my reverie. I peeled my shirt off my back and revealed the rest of my body to my daughter. I'm quite buff as I work out regularly and have a naturally mostly hairless chest. I think Lori liked what she saw as her eyes widened and she immediately sank three of her fingers deep into her pussy while continuing to rub her clit with her thumb. I didn't last long as I stared at my daughter's rack and pumped my cock in my hand, quickly cumming and spewing my seed all over my stomach. Lori soon followed. We came to refer to those Tuesday nights as Tossing Tuesdays. Just between us of course. It was another month of Tossing Tuesdays before our routine changed at all. I was quite content getting off with the thrill of my step daughter doing the same. It seems however that she wasn't as content. One Monday morning I was having a late morning shower after a small sleep in, I could afford to be late for work occasionally. The rest of the family must have left soon after I entered the shower because as I was rinsing the soap off my body the door opened and Lori came in. Unlike the shower by the guest room with it's clear glass shower door, this shower had one of those distorted glass doors so you can't make out details. I could still tell it was Lori as her red hair was quite noticeable. The human shaped blob started stripping and became more and more skin coloured until she was clearly naked. My heart lodged itself in my throat as she approached the shower and opened the door. Before me stood my buck naked step daughter. My cock had already risen to attention and stuck out in front of me, aimed right at her stomach as she stepped into the shower without saying a word. I didn't know what to do, due to the lack of room we were so close that my cock was poking her navel. We'd never touched before so this was completely new territory and a slight feeling of panic almost set it. Had we overstepped the line? Lori apparently didn't think so as she quickly scooped my cock into her hands and started stroking up and down my shaft, double handed. I groaned loudly and lent back against the wall, it felt so good. My new position allowed the water to flow between us rather than just hitting me in the back. I was mesmerised as tracks of water formed down my step daughter's chest, curving over her tits and running down her flat athletic looking stomach. After a few minutes she stopped pumping my shaft with her hands and slowly squatted down until she was resting on her heels with her legs splayed to either side. Her right hand found it's mark between her legs while her left snaked around and grasped my right ass cheek. I watched the water hitting her red hair and matting it down against her shoulders as I contemplated what she was planning. After what felt like an eternity, Lori's wet lips met the head of my cock and slowly passed over it and continued down my shaft. She easily got a couple of inches of it in without any trouble before she went into reverse. I almost came right then, it felt so amazing the way her tongue felt on the underside of my shaft. I hadn't been blown in a very long time. I tried to relax and enjoy the blow job I was receiving from my daughter as she increased her speed. I braced myself against the wall behind me and placed my hands lightly on the back of her head as she bobbed back and forth on my dick. I could feel the torrent already rising slowly from the depth of my balls. But right as I felt I was about to explode, she slowed down. I jerked unconsciously and slapped my hands against the walls as I skirted the edge of my orgasm and was denied its full release. I gritted my teeth as the torturous pleasure of my near climax lingered without actually arriving. Then as if she knew I could take it no more, she kicked into high gear and moved back and forth on my steel rod like a blur. I came immediately. My toes curled and almost every other muscle in my body tensed up as a thunderous orgasm swept over me. I twitched against the wall like a rag doll as I emptied my balls into my step daughter. Lori had slammed her face forward so her nose was buried in my pubes and my pulsing dick was injecting my seed directly into her throat. How she didn't choke I have no idea. Saliva and excess semen was squelching out around the base of my dick as she swallowed the majority of cum that was shooting into her throat. Her eyes were squeezed tightly shut as she concentrated on not drowning in semen, but she opened them and looked right into my eyes as my river of cum subsided. Slowly Lori extracted herself from my groin and stood up. She licked all the cum up from around her lips and then opened the shower door and left, grabbing a towel on the way out of the bathroom. Not a word was spoken during the whole encounter. I felt so weak from my orgasm that I eased myself down to the ground and rested against the wall, letting the water wash over me and slowly remove the excess saliva and cum that was matting down my pubic hair and covering my balls. When I finally made it out of the bathroom the house was empty. Lori had already left for school and I realised I was going to be extra late for work. Not a huge deal thankfully as I'm in tight with the boss. On Tuesday night once we were finally alone I had a chance to speak to Lori about what happened on Monday morning. "I thought you'd never given a blow job before?" I asked her. "I haven't, was it good... Dad?" Lori never called me Dad, did it add to the exoticness of the situation for her? It certainly had that effect on me. "Good?" I replied. "That was amazing! You're a complete natural, more than I'd expect from a natural." She blushed a crimson red colour and started taking her clothes off. I didn't waste any time, after the previous morning we were well beyond mutual masturbation. I lightly pushed Lori back onto the couch and knelt in front of her, spreading her legs with my hands. I placed my head between her legs and began to lick at her pussy. She tasted sweeter than Darla which I was thankful for. It was quite nice actually. I pushed her pussy lips apart so my mouth had access to her clit. I reached up with my right hand while I flicked her clit with my tongue and massaged her left breast. She buried her hands in my hair in response and pressed me into her snatch. I enclosed her entire pussy with my mouth and sucked as I twirled my tongue around her clit and then inserted it as deeply as I could into her slit. My step daughter moaned loudly and clenched her legs around my neck, locking me in place as she arced her back in pleasure. I dug my tongue as deeply into her as I could while my nose pinned her clit. After a while she released me enough that I had room to move my tongue back onto her clit and insert two fingers on my left hand into her pussy while I continued massaging her jugs with my right hand. My dick throbbed in my pants, pressing against the fabric with such force I was concerned that something might rip. I pumped my fingers in and out of my step daughter's pussy as my mouth played with her clitoris. Then I swapped and stimulated her clit with my fingers while my tongue was again buried in her tunnel. I switched back and forth every so often, doing my best to pleasure her the way she had pleasured me. Eventually I could tell she was approaching a climax so I stepped up my efforts until she came in a crashing crescendo. "Oh fuck yes! Fuck yes!" she cried as her orgasm swept over her and she creamed my face with her pussy juices. I got up off my knees and stretched my neck and jaw, releasing the stress that had built up. I unbuttoned and removed my shirt as I did so, Then I began unbuckling my pants. I dropped them to the floor and stepped out of them, revealing my big throbbing cock. Lori didn't take her eyes off my shaft as I descended onto her one more, but this time I lined up the head of my knob with her snatch. I placed my hands on the couch either side of my step daughter for support and slowly pushed my cock against her pussy lips until they parted and I entered her. I drove myself all the way in and she wrapped her legs around me attempting to pull me in further. We both groaned in pleasure as we fucked as father and daughter, just like in her Literotica stories. "I'm so glad I found those incest stories of yours Lori, or this never would have happened." I said as I started pumping my cock in and out of her twat. "What do you mean?" she sounded confused as she bounced back and forwards. "On the computer, you didn't delete the browser history. I read all the stories you did." I explained. "I never read any incest stories on the computer." she said. I paused for a moment, my shaft half extracted from her pussy and glistening in the lamplight. "You didn't?" I asked again to confirm. She shook her head back and forth. "Shit." I said as I resumed thrusting into her. "then it must have been either Darla or Hanna." "Wait," she said, placing a hand on my chest. I stopped fucking her for a moment. "No, no, don't stop fucking me. I mean, are you saying Mum or Hanna were reading stories about incest on the Internet?" I nodded and sped up my thrusts, making my balls slap against her ass as her tits bounced around wildly. "Jesus. We're a fucked up family aren't we?" she asked rhetorically with a sly smile on her face. "I think we need to find out who it was it." "I couldn't agree more." I agreed as I pulled out of my daughter. "My legs are getting tired in that position. Think you can bend over the arm rest?" Lori stood up and moved around the couch so she could bend over the arm rest, presenting her ass to me. "Is daddy gunna fuck me doggy style?" she said in an innocent voice. Rather than respond, I lined up my cock with her snatch once more and buried myself to the hilt. Standing up straight now, I was much more comfortable and ready to ride her as long as possible. I grabbed hold of her waist and started pounding my cock into her. I fucked my step daughter for what felt like forever. Despite the immense pleasure, I somehow with held my climax for an abnormal amount of time. But eventually I couldn't hold it back and the flood gates opened. I gripped and spread Lori's ass cheeks in my hands as my muscles clenched and my dick erupted. A torrent of hot semen poured into her. Wave after wave of pleasure hit me while I simultaneously spurted shot after shot of cum into my daughter's body. When I was finally spent, I collapsed over her back and we relaxed for a moment. I could feel my cum leaking from her cock filled pussy, travelling down my balls and dripping onto the floor. My cock started softening and I adjusted slightly so it would stay embedded in my step daughter's pussy. After a few moments of closeness we separated and cleaned up. We made a pact that we wouldn't let this weird us out and that we'd do it again. My cock began to get hard just at the thought of what my life might be like now. No more frustrated late night wanking sessions for me. Tuesday It's stupid, you think to yourself. You have a good life, a good home, a faithful hardworking man and a family. You have everything that you ever wanted and longed and hoped for. You man is gentle, faithful, loving, successful and attentive to you and your needs. He's a good provider and a better lover. He's just slightly kinky in the bedroom in what should be just the right amount. You should be happy. Any normal person would be happy with this. So why do you feel so dissatisfied? You think about this while you pedal the bike at the gym. The wheel spins and so does your mind. What is wrong with you? The dreams keep coming. They keep haunting you. They aren't nightmares. They're something else. You've been dreaming for a while about being trapped somewhere. It's a dangerous place. There are violent, evil men there, and you're hiding from them. But they always find you. Always. And when they do it starts, your clothes are torn away, and you're forced down, made to obey, to serve in horrifying and brutal ways. You can't remember all the things they do to you. It seems too punishing and violating to recall. Yet when you wake up from the dreams you're always beyond aroused. Your loins are slick with your own passion and twice you've awoken with your own hand inside you. The first couple of times you rolled over and nudged your husband until he woke up to the happy prospect of spontaneous sex. And like a happy, wonderful husband he complied and you spent a few minutes making the sheets sweaty and sticky and after he'd thrust into you a few dozen times he climaxed and was spent. Unfortunately you were not satisfied or spent. So he'd doze off happy and you'd be left laying there aggravated, wet and sticky with a set of sheets that you'd need to wash tomorrow. After a while you stopped waking him up. He was gentle and caring and attentive and apparently not at all what you needed. You took to surfing in the evening when you should be sleeping. You'd surf around various risqué sites and look at things that should be disturbing to you but were titillating instead. Eventually, that wasn't enough either. You couldn't just look at them, you started to touch yourself as you looked at the pictures. And as you did so, a pattern emerged. The more degrading and humiliating the pictures were, the more aroused you became. And if there was an aggressive man in the picture, using the bound and helpless and sometimes suffering woman, it was all you could do to not scream in passion as you released the urges you were feeling. It felt weird. Only sad, lonely guys sat in front of their computers and masturbated to this pathetic, degrading... pornography. But you weren't a sad lonely guy. You were a mature, beautiful woman with a family and a sleeping husband two rooms away with a very serviceable libido. It was making you crazy. And then you made it worse. You stumbled on a site that featured all sorts of writing. And the writing, naturally, was about sex. Most of it was drivel. Pathetic, ham fisted masturbation fantasies composed by what you assumed were more sad lonely men most likely living in their parents basements. And then you found the story. That fucking story. You thought about it as you peddled away on the exercise bicycle and you felt your pace pick up. It was par for the course. It had been on a list in the BDSM section (naturally...) and it had been pretty highly rated by everyone else. So you took a look at it and the story just... owned you. Two characters, two normal, flawed human characters connecting in a way you could barely conceive of and doing the things that you were literally dreaming of. You couldn't stop reading the story. It was ridiculous how you obsessed on it, how real the characters felt, how deeply, utterly *erotic* the sex scenes were. It was also completely absurd that the author hadn't finished the story yet and left you desperately looking for more. What was worse was that he'd left it on a pseudo cliff hanger with no resolution and you anguished to know what was next. The gearshift on the bike whined with the strain as you peddled harder. It was hopeless. This stupid story got into your head and you kept fantasizing about it. You reached out to the author and he sent you back a completely banal reply telling you that he appreciated your feedback and he was working hard on the next section. You could strangle him for that, the ridiculous prick. How dare he make a story that compelling and just throw it out there unfinished? As you contemplate hideous violence against this man you have never met, a drop of sweat slides down your nose and splashes on the odometer on the bike. It rolls over onto forty three and the little tenth of a mile markers spins rapidly as you realize you've been frantically pedalling for forty five minutes now. Slowly you dial down the pace until the tenth of a mile marker languidly circles the dial and you stop and immediately grimace as your thigh muscles scream their displeasure at you. You'd hoped that exercise would give you respite. Instead you couldn't stop obsessing on your dark dreams and that stupid story and your leg muscles feel like you ripped them from the bone. 'Nice job Arianna, you dipstick.' You mutter to yourself as you stagger to the change room. You plunk down on a bench and try to get your heart to stop pounding. It takes a little while, but you gradually slow your breathing and pulse down to normal levels. You look around, and the change room is mostly empty. A slim, young university student strides out of the shower area and slips off her towel and starts dressing in her modest street clothes. You sigh as you quietly eye her. She's tall and lithe and her body has no stretch marks or scars like yours does. You take a little solace and note that her long, lean runner's body is as flat as a board and nobody will ever accuse you of that. You feel oddly deflated and yet proud at the same time as you wander into the shower and try to blast away this obsession with high pressure hot water. You emerge ten minutes later pink and clean and still obsessed. As you comb out your long dark hair you eye yourself in the mirror. The tiny, pretty girl with long, almost midnight black hair trailing down to her waist stares back. God her eyes are hungry. How is your husband not seeing how desperate you are? Is he completely oblivious to this? Can he not sense your screaming *need*? You press your hands to your face. It feels like you're going insane. You can't think about anything else. You're walking around in a hazy perpetually aroused state and nothing at all seems to satisfy you. The gym has been a bust. Maybe on the way home you can stop in at that sex shop you spotted the other day and purchase a disturbing dream in a can. Or a heavy duty vibrator. 'Wait..' You say out loud to nobody in particular. Maybe that could help. An intense, powerful vibrator. Maybe that could get your mind off... whatever this obsession is. This new idea compels you, and you rapidly towel off your hair to a light level of dampness and then slip back into your clothing. A snug pair of jeans and a tight little t-shirt mould over your tiny black underwear and you eye yourself approvingly in the mirror. You smile to yourself as you preen just a little in front of the large pane of reflective glass. You do look pretty hot. It's nice that you still got it. Your eyes still look hungry though. You sigh and head out to the car. The sex shop is less than you hoped for. It's in a strip mall with little parking so anybody watching can clearly see you walk into the storefront clearly labelled 'XXX' and there are two male shoppers wandering around the endless racks of porn DVDs. This place isn't erotic. It's depressing. One of the male customers eyes you and licks his thin lips. You can see furtive movements at his waist level and you realize it's creepy here too. You're unsure later on if the clerk spotted the man fondling himself or if she saw the horrified look on your face, but whatever the reason the result is the same. She marches out from behind the counter armed with nothing more than a little white can and confronts the pervert pleasuring himself under his soiled overcoat as he stares at you. 'Trevor! We talked about this!' She barks. 'What?!' The man protests, his left hand hidden beneath the jacket and little movements making clear that he's continuing with his self gratification. 'Out! Out now! You can't do that in the store!' She barks. 'Aw c'mon Morgan! I just.. ' She holds up the little white can in front of his face. 'Awright! Awright! I'm going!' He surrenders weakly and moves toward the door. You're glad that he's leaving, but he's heading right for you. Awkwardly you back away from Trevor and his creepy leer until you back into a wall stocked with jingling items and phallic devices in cheap cardboard boxes. Trevor gives you a disturbing and longing gaze as he passes and you force yourself to glare at him like he was a piece of mobile pond scum as opposed to a creepy guy in a trench coat that makes your stomach clench up. He oozes out the door and it clicks shut behind him. You make a mental note to disinfect your hands when you leave if you touch the handle. The clerk wanders over to you and begins to apologize. 'Hey, listen, I'm really sorry about Trevor. He's normally not that... disturbing.' 'No problem. I'm fine.' You reassure her as you wonder if you should take a second shower just for being in his vicinity. 'No really, I'm sorry. I'd ban him if the owners would let me. He's gross, but he spends a ton of money on porn.' 'Somehow I do not find that incredibly surprising.' You say wryly. Morgan laughs out loud when you do. 'Ha! I like you! What's your name?' She says gleefully as she smiles at you with a ridiculously broad smile that is marred by one gold tooth. 'I'm Arianna. Just... just call me Ari.' 'Nice to meet you Ari!' She says brightly as you look up at her. Morgan is unique, without a doubt. She has shoulder length, bright pink hair and she's shaved the sides of her head bald. She has a septum piercing and she's wearing funky but not really punky clothing and ridiculous striped stockings that would look stupid on anyone else but look quite charming on her. She's tall and lean, even thinner than the runner girl you were eyeing/envying at the health club, but she radiates a little aura of absurd good humour that sets you at ease. She seems born to work in a porn shop. It isn't that she seems cheap or perverse, more that she'd take this sleazy little place and spin it into a thousand hilarious stories that would keep you giggling for hours. You like her. Her demeanour is calming. And with this dark obsession you haven't felt at ease in a while. Morgan shakes your hand and gives you the grand tour of the store. The grand tour of the store consists of her pointing at one half of the store, making a grand gesture and saying 'The porn's over here!', then turning and making an equally grand gesture to the other half of the store and saying 'The sex toys are over here!' You giggle. She really is funny. 'So... whatcha looking for Ari?' She says with a broad smile. 'Do you always give this level of personal service Morgan?' You ask. 'Only when there's another girl in the shop, so about every four years or so.' You laugh again. Morgan grins at you and waits for you to stop snorting. You almost get back to calm and then you burst out laughing again. 'Wow Ari, are you nervous?' Morgan says with a smile. 'Heh... a little bit.' You say. 'I'm looking for a personal... uh... a personal...' Your voice trails off and you blush. It's hard to say it. 'A vibrator?' Morgan asks with a small smile. 'Oh god. Yes I am.' You're certain you've turned bright pink. 'This way Ari.' Morgan says with a broad smile and yet another grand gesture and she leads you over to the sex toy section of the store. And then she shows a mind boggling display of vibrators and dildos to you. Large ones and small ones and ones that have attachments and controllers and things you don't even recognize. All designed to bring you to glorious, intense orgasm as many times as you can bear. It's a little intimidating. You eye a black monster with an appalled look and Morgan grins. 'I think that one's just for show.' She says with a chuckle. 'It's bigger than my arm!' You squeak. And as you look at it in horror, you see something hanging on a peg to your right and you stop and stare at it. It's a pair of handcuffs. A pair of shiny handcuffs with a short chain and a pair of circular keys and a little paper tag stating a price of thirty nine ninety five. And just like that the urge is back, more powerful than ever. You zone out for a minute and imagine yourself on your knees, the metal bracelets tight on your wrists and a similar set on your ankles and nothing else covering your skin. You look up at the dark figure and all you can see is the whip dangling from his hand... Morgan snaps her fingers in front of your face. 'You ok Ari? You zoned out on me pretty good there!' Morgan says with another broad smile and just a hint of concern. 'I... uh... I'm sorry Morgan. Sorry. I just... I ... can I buy the handcuffs?' You babble like a confused child. 'Those?' Morgan turns and looks at the shiny metal bracelets. 'You don't want those. They're shit.' 'What do you mean?' 'They're made in china knockoffs. You could snap the chain with a strong tug. Well, I did anyways...' Morgan trails off, blushing a little. 'Wait, you wear the handcuffs?' 'Yeah. Occasionally. When I'm feeling switchy.' She tussles her hair and grimaces, embarrassed by her oversharing. 'I had a pair on like that last weekend at the Darkside and the chain snapped the moment I put some weight on it.' You stare at her, ravenous for more information. She's living the life you've been dreaming of. Morgan and her pink hair and gold tooth and ridiculous but oh so cute striped stockings. Morgan who casually breaks handcuffs... at the Darkside. 'What is the Darkside?' You ask, and your voice trembles with desperation and need. Morgan tells you all about it. It's a bar, a bar that sits on the seedy side of town. A bar that caters to a special crowd. A bar that has a special back room and if you know the right people you can go back into the special room and things can happen to you. Dark, disturbing.... Things... can happen to you. You look up at the non descript placard hanging outside the door. 'Darkside – bar and tavern' is all the sign says. You know they offer more. If only you could find the strength to go in. You look up at the sign and at the door again. You clutch at the black plastic bag that holds the extra strong handcuffs and the sleek, black vibrator that Morgan says gets good reviews and is too intense for her liking. Too intense seems to be exactly what you're looking for. You look up at the sign again then back at your car. This really is a shitty section of town. You shouldn't hang out here. Bad things could happen. Yes, bad things could happen. Abruptly you open the door and enter the dark, dingy bar. It's certainly not much to look at. There are a lot of beaten up tables and chairs and more than a few televisions around the room showing a random science fiction movie that you don't recognize. A large wooden bar takes up the one side of the room and someone obviously loves it because it's polished and shiny and beautiful. Gleaming brass rails polished to dullness and then polished all the way back to shiny circles the bottom of the old school wooden bar. A large selection of liquor sits behind the counter with plentiful glassware and a reasonably large selection of beers. It's a little odd when you look around at the empty bar and see that quiet would be a massive uptick from the silence you hear now. How is this place even in business? 'Can I help you Miss?' The rough voice says behind you and you nearly jump out of your skin. You spin and see the wiry, hard looking man reclining on a chair in the corner. A tall glass of dark beer sits next to him. He's wearing a simple black t-shirt with blue jeans and a pair of expensive looking sneakers that are well broken in. His face is stubbled and his shock of whitish blonde hair is cut short and spiky. A small scar creases his right cheek. He wears a pair of spectacles that clash with the rest of his look. You sense he cares little for how he appears. He eyes you critically. The way a spider looks at a fly. Suddenly you feel very small. 'Miss?' he says again, still reclined on the chair. 'Uh... I... was talking with a... friend and she told me... there... there...' You feel incredibly awkward. Why is this hard? 'There what?' Says the man relaxed on the chair. 'She said there's a special room here. In the... back.' The man snorts and gives you a disdainful look. You wince a little at that. You don't know why. 'And what would this friend's name be?' He asks casually. 'Morgan. Her name was Morgan. She has... pink hair.' 'I know who she is.' He states dryly. He picks up his glass and takes a long pull of the black liquid. Then he sits back and sizes you up again. He doesn't look at you like the pervy guy in the sex shop does. This is a different look. Before with Morgan, the creep looked at you with pure lust. This gaze is different. You feel like you're being measured, evaluated... judged. Who is this guy to judge you? 'What are you looking at?' You demand of him. He snorts again. 'Morgan is losing her touch.' He says cryptically. 'What does that mean?' You question him again. 'What it means...' He says with a smirk as he sets the glass on the table. '... is that if you want to see the backroom it's twenty bucks.' You glare at him, then fish a twenty of your pocket and set it on the table. He looks at it and smiles at you. 'There's a two drink minimum.' He says with a sly smile. 'How much are drinks?' You ask calmly and try not to roll your eyes. 'For you? Ten bucks each.' He says with that same annoying smirk plastered across his face. You grit your teeth and fish another twenty out of your pocket. The man looks down at the two twenties, and then looks back to you with a completely deadpan look on his face. 'No tip?' 'Are you going to show me the back room, or not?' He grins, and then stands up. He's taller and thinner than you imagined. 'Absolutely short stuff. Follow me.' And he walks towards the back of the bar. 'My name is Arianna, thank you very much!' You say with some frustration. You cannot believe how rude this man is being to you. This gangly, wiry annoying prick walks in front of you and into the shadows... The plastic bag with the handcuffs and the vibrator clatter onto the floor as you stop dead. You're seen this before, when you were having the nightmare that wasn't a nightmare. He's tall and wiry and mean looking and he's wrapped in shadow in the back of this dingy little bar. He stops and looks back at you. He doesn't look concerned, he looks annoyed. His face is hard. 'Move it shorty.' He growls at you. 'You wanna see the back room or not? 'Yes. Yes I do.' And you walk forward through the door with him. You look around the room and catch your breath. It's everything Morgan told you it was, and more. There are cages and chains and restraints and... things you do not recognize. 'What is that?' You point at a wooden triangle standing upright. Chains and manacles protrude from it. 'It's a horse. You ride it.' 'How do you ride it?' Tuesday 'Usually with a lot of tears and gritted teeth.' He says calmly. You look at him with irritation and realize that he's not being sarcastic. He returns your gaze then shakes his head. 'What are you doing here anyways girl?' He asks calmly with a bored look on his face.. You don't know how to answer that, so you turn away from him and keep looking around. You run your fingers over a cage that seems too tiny to hold someone. It looks cramped and confining and terrifying. You feel yourself getting damp as you caress the cold metal. There's a gynaecological table in the corner. At least you think it's a gynaecological table, if there are gynaecologists in hell. You continue to wander through the room, touching things that you've both dreamed of and never conceived of with trembling fingers. The man that let you in the room stands by the door and watches you with a bored look. You find your words again as you pass in front of a large wooden 'X' complete with manacles on chains. 'Do you... play back here?' You ask him. Your voice cracks a little. You can feel your pulse beating in your neck, pounding out a rhythm of fear and lust. 'Of course I do. I own the bar.' 'Who do you play with?' 'Whoever the fuck I want to.' There's that growl again. You run your hand over a manacle dangling from the wooden X and look back at him. You know what you want. You do. You're just afraid to take that next step. He takes it from you. Calmly he strides forward and firmly pulls the manacle out of your hand. He towers over you, his six foot plus frame nearly a full foot taller than you are. You stare up at him and are frozen, like a rabbit looking at a wolf. 'Do you want to play with me girl?' He asks you. As he does so, he clicks the latch on the manacle and it pops open. He closes it with a click, then pops the latch and it creaks open yet again. You open your mouth but are oddly unable to speak. You carefully nod. He glares at you then leans over and takes your chin between his fingers and looks you directly in the eye. 'Use your words little girl. I want to hear you say it.' Your mouth is incredibly dry all of a sudden. You swallow and lick your lips. Then you say the words that commit you to everything you want and everything that terrifies you at the same time. 'I want to play with you.' 'Are you sure?' He says calmly. You watch fascinated as he slides the manacle over your wrist and locks it in place. 'I'm sure.' You whisper. The manacle clicks shut on your other wrist. The chains draw tight against the cross and you are forced to back up until your arms are drawn high over your head and held in placed and your back is against the cross. You swear you can hear your heart pounding. His hand grips your chin again and he turns your face left and then right and you get the sensation that he's measuring you again. He purses his lips, then nods and turns back to the door and walks out for a moment. 'Where are you going?' You shout after him. You suddenly feel frightened. There's no response, but you see the lights flicker and shut off out front and then he walks through the door and back to you. He gives the door a light shove and the hinges creak as it slowly closes and then slams shut. The locks snap in place with a sense of finality. What the fuck are you doing? You feel panic rise up in you as the man approaches you again. This was a bad decision. The man stands in front of you and runs his hand over his chin, deep in thought, then he inhales and speaks to you. 'Right. Here is how it is.' You listen intently. 'I don't give a fuck about what you need or want. We do what I want to do. I'm not interested in your dreams or your limits. I play hard, I'm a mean bastard and I'm not here to negotiate or deal with your bullshit.' His words are harsh but measured. He's said this before. 'We're not going to be a couple. If you're lucky I'll claim you as property. If you're too much of a pain in the ass I'll toss you aside like garbage.' He steps forward and his hands grip the waist of your jeans and he pops open your pants. You squeal as you feel him shove the cloth down your legs. A moment later your black panties are around your knees as well. 'My name is Padraic, and if you're looking for me you can ask for that name. If you ever call me anything other than 'Master' or 'Sir' I'll punish you.' 'Ok Padraic.' You respond snarkily. He cocks his head and looks at you with disbelief. You don't know why you did it, but you did. 'All right, clearly we need to set the tone.' Padraic says calmly. CRACK. You reel. Your cheek burns. He slapped you! CRACK! CRACK! Your head spins and you see stars. This hurts! You feel him gripping your long hair and he jerks your head up and then his hand slaps your face back and forth again and again. CRACK! CRACK! SMACK! *CRRAACCKK*!! The last one leaves your ears ringing. Tears well up in your eyes and you can feel the coppery taste of blood in your mouth. 'Now, go ahead and say my name again. I fucking well dare you.' He growls in your ear. You gasp oxygen and sniff. It's hard not to burst into tears after that. But you keep it together and shake your head. 'No thank you sir... I... I'm sorry.' He snorts again. Clearly that was the right answer this time. 'Shall we continue?' He whispers into your ear. It's oddly intimate and strangely intimidating at the same time. 'Yes sir.' You mumble. 'Good. I'm glad we got that straightened out.' His hands grab your t-shirt and he roughly pulls the front up and over your head, leaving your arms trapped but your breasts contained in your black bra. They're only contained for a moment though, because he reaches inside the lacy cups and pulls first one breast free then the other. And then you're completely exposed to him. He steps back and studies your body. He leans forward and runs a finger across your skin. His relentless touch explores your skin, leaving no scar or blemish unexamined. He runs it lightly across line on your stomach and asks you a casual yet degrading question. 'You've been bred?' You shudder at that harsh word for what you went through. But you know better than to not answer him. Your cheeks still feel fiery from your last insolent moment. 'Yes sir.' 'Good. Breeders have higher pain tolerance.' That frightens you a little. He reaches forward and tugs on your pubic hair. 'This had better be gone the next time I see you.' You nod your head. 'If I see you again.' He says casually. 'You will sir.' That popped out of your mouth fast. 'Yeah, yeah... we'll see.' He says with apathy. He calmly raises a foot and places it on the crotch of the panties and jeans around your knees and pushes them down to the floor. He bends over and pulls the jeans off your feet and plucks out the black panties. You feel his hand running along the inside of your thigh as he straightens up and abruptly you feel his fingers between your legs and the lips of your sex. Your jaw drops and you gasp at the rough violation. First one finger, then two slide inside you and probe your astonishingly wet sex. You chest heaves as he casually twists his fingers around inside you and then slowly withdraws his fingers. They deliberately drag across your clitoris. Your body shudders involuntarily at the intense and all too brief sensation. 'Wow, you are one wet little bitch.' He says casually as he looks at the slickness on his fingers. You cheeks flush with heat again, not from a slap this time, but from him stating the obvious truth. A few slaps, your hands restrained and your clothes pulled away and you are so inflamed with lust you're astonished that your need isn't dripping down your thighs. He leans forward and wipes his fingers under your nostrils, literally rubbing your nose in it. You cringe at this bitterly personal humiliation as he paints your face with your own lust. His head dips down, and he whispers huskily in your ear. 'You want it don't you whore?' Even his words have impact. He degrades you so casually it's unnerving. You never felt less in control in your entire life than you do now. He's so casually vicious that you're concerned that you just let a serial killer lock you up in a private back room. Nobody even knows that you're here. 'Y... yes sir.' You stammer. His hand slides down your body, tweaking a nipple as it does. It drifts down your belly and cups your sex, his fingers spreading your lips open again as you realize that you are subconsciously spreading your legs wide apart for him. His fingers drift in and out of you, dipping into the silky wetness inside you and coaxing desperate, needy squeals from your lips. You buck your hips and bite your lip as he toys with your flesh. You feel it growing inside you, building like a fire and getting hotter. And suddenly he's no longer inside of you. His hand travels up to your face and he seizes your hair firmly and tilts your head back. You groan at the forceful grip and at disappointment for what he stoked in you and is now diminishing. 'Did you actually think I was going to fuck you cunt?' 'Yes... yes sir. Please don't stop.' You whimper at him. 'You haven't earned my cock you little fuckpuppet. It's not that easy.' 'No sir. It's not.' You whisper and resist the urge to grind your hips against him. 'I think I want to play with you now cunt, you don't mind do you?' He asks. 'No sir. Please play with me.' You whisper at him again, certain your words are literally dripping with lust. You feel something rough slide inside you and you squeal. His fingers tuck it into your dark place and then slowly pull it out. He casually holds it up in front of your face and smiles at you as you stare at the now damp and slick panties you casually put on a few hours ago. 'Open your mouth whore.' He orders, and you cringe. This is awful. Your hesitation irritates him, and his strong hand seizes your nipple and gives it a vicious twist. You yelp loudly and he takes that moment to cram the damp panties dipped into your lust into your mouth. You squirm on the wooden X as he jams them deep into your mouth so that you can't shove them out with your tongue. You stand there for a moment and gag on the salty fabric jammed against the back of your throat and don't realize that he walked away from you again. You see him digging through a small closet and he pulls out a couple of items and sets them on a table. There's a long, thick strap of some sort, a small, black plastic device and a roll of black tape. You've already guessed what the tape is for even before he starts tearing off strips and securing the sodden intimates in your mouth. The electrician's tape he uses is rubbery and clings to your skin and hair in an unpleasant way. He finishes off by pressing a strand of the thick, black adhesive against your mouth and then wrapping it around your mouth several times. When he's secured it firmly, he turns your face left and right and nods when he's sure that you can't expel the fabric from your mouth and you can breathe easily through your nose. You know this for fact when he casually pinches your nose shut with his fingers and holds it until you start to thrash futilely on the cross and you face starts to turn red. He deliberately keeps you from breathing until your vision starts to spin and you feel like you're on the verge of blacking out. He waits until you've nearly fully lost conciousness and then releases your nose. You snort air desperately; grateful that he finally let you have oxygen. As you suck air through your nostrils you feel something hard lock around both your ankles. It doesn't impede your breathing as you slump against the huge wooden X, so you really don't care. You care more a moment later as he pulls on a chain and a pulley system suddenly yanks your ankles into the air until you hang from both sets of chains with your legs spread wide. He walks back around in front of you and your recent oxygen deprivation and the humiliation of having him gag you with your own damp panties has made you less aroused and more afraid of him. It seems like he knows that. His eyes get a little more feral as he studies you. He picks up the black plastic device from the table and holds it up. 'Do you know what this is cunt?' He asks calmly. You shake your head negatively. You don't recognize it. He presses a button on the device and blue sparks shoot and crackle from little metal prongs. A buzzing hiss fills the room and when he flips the switch again to turn it off you smell ozone. 'Now do you know what it is whore?' Fearfully, you nod your head. It's a small cattle prod of some kind. You feel flushed, like you want to throw up. You don't know if you can take that if he uses it on you. He walks toward you and you begin to tremble like a leaf. You start to whine through the panties taped into your mouth as you feel him spread your lips wide and then you shrilly scream as you feel the hard plastic scraping against the walls of your vagina as he forces it inside you. It takes about ninety seconds for him to violate you with it. It feels like it takes an hour. Once it is inserted, you can't believe how raw and abraded you feel at the painful penetration. He gives it a little tug and it slides out a little accompanied by a loud complaint from you as it scratches you yet again. Satisfied, he goes to the table and picks up the heavy leather strap. He smirks at you yet again and taps it against the palm of his hand. He swings it to get a couple of loud cracks to intimidate you with it and the last one is too hard. A loud CRACK fills the room and he abruptly starts shaking his hand and cursing. 'Fuck!' He roars, still trying to shake the sting out of his fingers. It's amusing for a nanosecond until you realize that just slapping it on his hand stung badly enough for him to lose his composure in front of you. How will that feel on your skin? Still muttering to himself, he picks up the strap that he dropped when he accidentally punished his own hand and glares at you. 'Was that funny whore?' No. Absolutely not. You vigorously shake your head. He glares at you for a second. Then he sighs. 'Hmmf. I think the moment is lost. Is it lost fucktoy?' You really want to tell him yes. You shake your head no. That raises his eyebrows. Why did you do that? He stares at you with hard eyes. You're uncertain if you fucked up or not. Does he think you were mocking him? Was there even a right answer there? Why are you so fucking aroused when you should be completely terrified? He walks around to your side and sets the strap on your stomach where it lies in silent threat. His hand slides around the back of your neck and grips the long dark brown strands of your hair. He leans in and looks directly into your face. 'Are you telling me you want to keep going girl?' Carefully, you shrug your shoulders. 'You know I'm about to beat you, right?' You nod. 'And you want to keep going?' You nod again. A quiet part of you notes that he's dropped the demeaning insults. You have his full attention. You can see his mind spin, twist, evaluate. He's measuring you again. 'You're interesting.' You see the gears shifting behind his eyes. His hand slips up your ribcage and squeezes your right breast roughly. You moan a little bit. Your body still throbs with need, despite, or possibly because of the disturbing things he's done to you. His hand slides down your stomach, across the little strip of pubic hair that you maintain and taps on the end of the little black box he shoved inside you. You squeal. He slides a finger over the button and you plead with your eyes. The wicked grin returns. He presses the button. You don't quite remember what happens after that. After the stars leave your vision you realize that you're still hanging limply from the same chains. There's an acrid smell in the room now and your vagina feels incredibly tender. Your stomach twitches and you suddenly realize that the bastard pressed the trigger on the cattle prod and shocked your insides with it. You can't feel it shoved inside you now. Apparently you either squeezed it out when your body was gripped with spasms or Padraic pulled the cruel little device out of you after you zoned out from the sudden surge of pain. 'Welcome back.' Padraic says as he eyes you. You feel him unwinding the tape around your head and slowly he peels it away from your face until the last sticky strand pulls away. You feel his fingers reach into your mouth and he calmly, slowly pulls your soaked, sodden panties from your mouth. 'Nggghh....' You whimper. The undergarment drops from his fingers and hits the floor with a splat. You think he's being gentle, but then you realize that he's lowered the chains you're suspended from to about waist height and he's now pulling his manhood out. 'Oh god.' You moan. 'Do I need to tell you what to do?' He asks. You shake your head no and open your mouth. He slides between your lips and you spend ten long, awkward minutes servicing him with your mouth and your tongue until he grunts and fills your mouth with hot, thick semen. He holds you there for a minute and then releases your hair and pulls away. You gasp, and cough and thick white ropes spray from your mouth and drip down your chin. You expect to be punished for that, but he doesn't say anything to you. He merely steps behind the large wooden X and pulls a lever. You abruptly drop three feet with a choking wail and smack into the floor. Your rear takes the majority of the impact and you lie on your side and rub your aching behind. You continue to rub for a moment and then he returns from the rear of the large bondage rack and crouches down to look at you. You look up at him with anger. He's been so cruel to you. His behaviour is borderline sociopathic. He's bound you, violated you, tortured you, humiliated you and used your body for his own satisfaction while ignoring both your own pain and pleasure. None of those things explain the vague feeling of disappointment you have that you seem to be done for the evening. 'Put yourself back together and get dressed. There's a washroom out front if you want to wipe the come off your chin.' He tells you flatly. Then he walks away from you, unlocks the heavy door that let you both in here and strides back out front. Feeling groggy, weary, overwhelmed and being filled with a sense of deep, lingering arousal makes gathering up your scattered clothing harder than it should be. Your shoes were kicked off to one side. You panties still lay in a wet lump on the floor. Your jeans are draped over a... something. It's wooden and there are circles and slots and locks and you have no idea what it is. It's a bondage pants hanger at the moment. You pull them down and look around for your t-shirt for a minute or two then realize that he never pulled it off you; he just jerked it up over your head. Your brain is still so overwhelmed you clearly can't process things just yet. You slide your breasts back into the cups of your bra and move to pull the black t-shirt down over your face but you realize that his seed is still plastered all over your chin and cheeks. You fret for a moment then decide to go and take him up on his offer to use the bathroom. You contemplate your panties, but they're slimy with your saliva and you can't bring yourself to pick up the cold, wet lump of what used to be a surprisingly sexy undergarment. Quietly you pad out the door to the main bar. Padraic is running a count on the till and washing a few glasses. Another pint glass of beer sits next to him on the bar as he runs numbers through the machine and ignores you. Tuesday You wait a moment and see if he'll acknowledge you. The machine clicks and rattles as it spews out a long white strip of paper for him. He doesn't look in your direction. You shuffle your feet, embarrassed. He was just violently intimate with you. Now it's like you don't exist. You feel a flush run down your body. This is humiliating. He glances in your direction then points over to the corner. 'Bathrooms over there. Get moving. I'm locking up in fifteen minutes.' That takes the wind out of you. You stare at him as he continues to ignore you and do his count. Hurt, you turn towards the bathroom and walk in the door of the ladies room. It's dingy and dark in here and you wish you'd put on your shoes first because the floor is a little sticky. You wander over to the mirror and look into it over the greyish sink. Your face is puffy and flushed and shiny from where his seed splashed across your skin. You feel disgusting just looking at it. Abruptly you turn the water on and splash searing liquid across your face and try to scrub away this humiliation. You can't believe he did this to you. Tied you up, stripped you naked, played with you and gagged you and used your mouth with... You feel queasy for a moment. Your tummy does a little flip flop as you recall the last hour of violation and shame. You try and suppress the feeling, but you can't. Are you angry that he used you so brutally? Or are you angry that he stopped? You look in the mirror at the pale, confused and aching girl in the mirror. She looks straight back at you with no compromise. Her eyes still look hungry, so very, very hungry. 'Are you done washing up?' You jump, startled at the sudden words. Padraic leans against the door that he somehow silently opened as you tried to process what happened. His bored look has returned, and you hate him just a little bit right now. You glare at him for a moment and then snap at him. 'Can I get a little privacy?' You say fiercely and then turn back to the mirror. You hear a dry laugh, and then he walks towards you and slides behind you in the tiny bathroom. His hand casually slips into the long dark swath of your hair and twists it around until your feel it yank on your scalp hard and you're pulled back against him with a little squeal. His other free hand slips around you and yanks down the lacy black cup of your bra. Tough, calloused fingers seize your suddenly hard nipple and twist and pull it up until you stand on your tip toes. He twists the nipple hard until you emit a little animal squeak. Any resistance or anger drains out of you, replaced with fear and searing adrenaline that snaps you out of your befuddlement. Christ he's mean. Actually, he's more than mean, he's vicious. He hurts you casually and just brooks no resistance from you. And as you stand on your tip toes and emit frightened little animal sounds you realize that you're even more aroused than before. This is so wrong. This is beyond wrong. No person should want this. But as he holds you there, wobbling on your toes, you glance at the mirror again. The tiny little girl grimacing in pain looks back at you. But the hunger is gone from her eyes now. It's been driven away by lust. 'Still feel like mouthing off?' He says casually. 'No... no sir!' You whimper to him. Abruptly he releases your nipple and hair and you collapse forward onto the counter clutching at your now throbbing nipple. You lay there for a moment, and then you feel him unzip his pants again. 'Spread.' He orders you. You look up at him in the mirror and his eyes are hard. You swallow and then spread your legs open. You feel his manhood nudge against you and then he pushes inside you. You're so aroused by his manhandling of you that he's deep inside you in just seconds. You gasp like a fish as he impales you. He's thick and a little longer than average. The counter is surprisingly cold on your cheek as you lay there and feel him penetrate you deeply and with little concern for you. Your fingers tremble on the counter in front of your face. His hand grips your hair again and he yanks you back up against him so that your back is pressed into his chest and you have to stand on your tip toes again to accommodate the difference in height between you. 'I'm gonna fuck you now. Don't you dare fucking come. Got it?' He has to be kidding. He's insane! You're impaled on him, aching with need, processing humiliation after humiliation and the after effects of harsh restraint and he wants you not to have an orgasm?! You look into the mirror at his hard face and harder eyes and you know that he's not joking. 'Yes sir.' You say in a tiny little voice. He presses your face back onto the grimy counter next to the sink. His hand grips your hair and holds you in place. His member starts pounding into you relentlessly. You feel the explosion building in you. You fight it. You don't know what he'll do to you if you disobey him but you're certain that he'll make you regret it. You sink your teeth into your lip and bite down hard. You twist your own nipple, you buck and try and keep him from directly stimulating your own clitoris. Eight, long, hard, sweaty, exhausting and painful minutes pass. Finally you feel him tense up and you feel a warm sensation inside you. You tremble as you realize that for the first time in years, someone other than your husband just came inside you. As you lie on the counter and pant you get the taste of copper on your tongue. Apparently you've bitten your own lip so hard that you're bleeding a little. He slides out of you and you're thankful. Not that he's finished, but that he's going to stop stimulating you. You nearly failed him a couple of times and only vicious twists on your now incredibly sensitive nipples kept that at bay. 'Clean me off girl.' He growls. You groan and then pull yourself up off the counter. It takes more effort than you expect and you feel weak in the knees. You slowly crouch down until you're face is level with his pelvis and his member is resting against your cheek. You look up at this ruthless, cruel bastard with wide, awestruck eyes. He doesn't give one fuck about your needs or wants. He just takes from you. He takes and punishes and violates and shames you. Where has he been? Why did it take you this long to find him? 'Get to it girl.' He snarls at you. You hesitate for a moment, and then you open your mouth and take his still mostly erect penis inside your mouth. You taste your own passion mixed with his seed and you carefully run your tongue up and down the thick, hot shaft of flesh. It only takes a few moments to lick him clean, but you make sure that you do a good job. This vicious man intimidates you, and you're certain that he's just looking for an excuse to do other more cruel things to you. 'Enough.' He says gruffly and he slips his member back inside his faded blue jeans. You look up at him with trepidation and slowly rise to a standing position. The back of your hand wipes away saliva and small drops of semen that he smeared across your face yet again. 'What are you doing?' He says with a growl. You look away, suddenly afraid to meet his eyes. His hand grabs your chin and forces you to look him in his greyish blue eyes. He stares you down hard and you finally break and ask what you did wrong. He points at the floor. While you were cleaning him with your tongue, a small pool of his semen dripped out of you to make a couple of tiny puddles on the floor. You look down at them in confusion and then he crushes you with three little words. 'Lick. It. Up.' He snarls. You cringe and try to shrink inside yourself. This can't be happening. He can't really want you to lick his semen off a dirty floor. He sees your horrified hesitation and then says the words that make you realize that whoever this sadist is, he owns you now. 'Don't make me ask you twice girl.' He threatens you. You nod obediently, and only the lone tear that trickles down your cheek reveals your revulsion. You drop to your knees, press your face to the floor and you begin lapping up warm semen mixed with your own moisture from the dirty bathroom floor. And as you do so, you are intensely aware of how your own body betrays you by becoming beyond aroused. Your insides are so slick that you're afraid you might start to drip. The floor is gritty and cold and disgusting. The little pools of semen are bitter and thick and hard to lick up. You think this can't possibly be any more degrading until he kneels down in front of you and takes a couple of pictures with his cellphone of you cleaning semen off his bathroom floor with your tongue. When you're finished, you're so appalled that you can't even stand up. You just press your forehead to the filthy floor and try not to let him see you cry. Nothing you have ever done has been this disgusting or shameful or degrading. He's completely obliterated every shred of self respect you have. 'You can come and see me in the lounge when you finish blubbering.' He says casually. The door drifts shut behind him and you're left alone in the dirty bathroom with the surprisingly clean small section of floor. You don't understand why you can't resist him. Every time he speaks to you, you feel mesmerized. You can feel his reckless arrogance radiating from him and his words carry a tone of absolute authority that you can't help but to submit to. And you know now that when he was sizing you up earlier and he started playing with you he was watching you and your body react and you told him as plainly as writing specific instructions what your weak points were and how he could bend you to his will. And worst of all, on some level you're thrilled about this. You feel exhausted and degraded and disgusting, but that driving, intense hunger has vanished. Now you just want sleep. But he wants to see you. And he wants to lock up. So you force yourself to stop crying, wipe away your tears and slip into your clothes. You check the mirror quickly and wipe away some streaks of grime from your unorthodox floor cleaning method. Finally, you flip your hair over your shoulder and head back out into the lounge. He's sitting at a lone table in middle of the room. His long legs are stretched out and he's watching a TV again with another glass of black beer next to him. The bag with your handcuffs and the new vibrator sit on the table waiting for you. That would have been incredibly embarrassing a few hours ago. Now it barely registers. Another leather satchel sits next to the plastic bag. You don't know why it's there. A small shot glass filled with clear liquid sits next to both bags. You approach the table. He looks up at you and gestures at the chair beside him. 'Sit.' He instructs you. You do. 'Drink this.' He orders you. You look down at the shot glass and back at him. 'What is it?' 'It's Peppermint schnapps. I thought you might have a bad taste in your mouth.' You look down at the table then pick up the glass and toss down the strong and intensely flavoured liquid. It burns on the way down and you shudder, but it does take the foul taste of the bathroom floor out of your mouth. 'I close on Tuesday and Wednesday nights. Pick one and that's your night.' 'What do you mean?' You don't know what he wants. He turns and looks at you with annoyance. You flush involuntarily. 'You just spent two hours getting defiled by me. You didn't scream or run away or try to call the police. You just took it. Clearly I have something you want. I'm moderately interested in playing with you and training you. Pick your day.' 'How do you know I'll come back?' You ask him. He rolls his eyes and gives you that look again. He knows you're coming back and so do you. 'Tuesday. I... I can come on Tuesdays.' You say quietly. 'Be here at 11 pm. We'll start when I'm ready to start. Make sure you have an excuse for your husband while you're slutting around with me.' 'But how...?' You stammer. He's done incredibly degrading things to you but you've barely talked to him at all about anything. He leans forward and taps your wedding ring. You blush and feel like an idiot. 'The bag has stuff that you'll need for next week. I recommend you use that equipment. Start with the little pink one and when you come back next week you should have the fat black one inserted.' You peek inside the bag. A small pink, a medium blue and a large back anal plug sit in the bag along with a bag of lube and a couple of disposable enema kits. 'But... I never... I mean I... I don't...' you stammer as you look at the deeply intimidating toys. 'You've never taken it in the ass girl?' He asks calmly. 'No. No I never have.' You say in a tiny voice. 'Well then, next week will be a brand new experience for you then.' You look into the bag again and then look back at him in terror. 'I don't think I can use... these. Sir.' You plead with him. 'You don't have to use any of them.' He says with a shrug. 'But next week I am going to strap you down over something and fuck you in your asshole. And you are going to lick me clean when I finish. So it's up to you as to how painful and disgusting that will be.' You shudder. God he's cruel. 'Oh, and you don't masturbate any more. You don't have any orgasms but the ones that I allow you to have.' He says calmly. 'What?' You squeak. That was the only way you could get through tonight, the thought that as soon as you were out of range you could relieve yourself. Now he's just told you that you aren't allowed to do that anymore. 'But...' You protest and he cuts you off. 'Yeah, I know. I can't watch you twenty four hours a day. Do you think I'll be able to tell if you're lying to me though?' Your mouth opens and closes. He seems to see right through you. 'What about my husband?' 'He can fuck you in any hole he chooses. You just aren't allowed to come then either. Oh and don't think you'll be cutting him off either. You're to give him as much sex as he wants as often as he wants it.' 'You... you can't... I can't...' Your brain won't even function right now. The thought of not climaxing as your husband makes love to you is maddening. 'You. I. We... shut up girl. You came to me. You clearly need what I have and these are the rules. Break them at your peril.' You stare at him in horror. He's figured you out. He knows what you need and how badly you need to have it and he's using it to completely fuck with your mind. His sadism is pure and unrelenting. You're afraid of the things he's going to do to you, but you're even more afraid of making him angry now that you've found him. He points at the door. You look at the glass pane and then back at Padraic. 'Get out girl. It's 2 am. I'm going to bed now.' 'Yes sir.' You say meekly. And you rise to your feet and walk with him to the doorway. He hands you both of the bags on the table and walks you outside. You look at you car, then at him. You feel like you should do something. You turn to him to say good night but he cuts you off. 'Open your mouth.' You hesitate for a second and then do what he tells you. Padraic produces the soggy, slimy panties that he obviously plucked from his floor and stuffed into his pocket. You whimper quietly as he jams the disgusting and cold cloth into your mouth and causes you to gag. 'The next time you leave a pair of disgusting, wet panties on my floor, I'm gonna shove them into a different hole, and I'll shove them in really deep. Got it girl?' You nod your head. 'Good. Go the fuck home. Leave that in your mouth until you pull into your driveway. Don't be late next Tuesday or you will regret it.' You nod your head. The wet panties that he reinserted into your mouth make speech impossible now. 'Good. Now go home. I'm going to bed now.' And he turns and walks through the door. You watch him lock it and then he walks back into the darkness of the bar and disappears. You stand in the doorway for a moment, still too shell-shocked by everything that happened. A while later, you're almost all the way home, running on autopilot as you get home on instinct and memory as you try and process everything that happened tonight and the ways that your life just changed. Your sensible sedan cruises into the driveway and you step outside the car and immediately pluck out the wet, gross underwear that he jammed into your mouth tonight and hurl it into the darkness. You shudder. He's going to be hard to deal with. He makes little things into cruel torments. He doesn't hesitate to degrade or violate you and he's clearly able to read your body language and interpret what you want, don't want and are terrified of. It's unfortunate that you're officially deeply obsessed with him now. You sigh and wander into the house. Your gym bag gets dumped out into the laundry room and after a moments reflection you pull off all your other clothes and throw them into the washing machine. You hardly wore them but you keep remembering everything he did to you and they seem filthy. You feel filthy. You quietly walk to the bathroom, flip on the water to a degree south of scalding and proceed to scrub yourself raw and pink. Finally, you slip out of the glass booth filled with steam and hot spray. You wrap a towel around yourself and slip into the bedroom where your husband lays sprawled in the bed, the sheets akimbo around him. You slip the towel off and try to slip into bed naked without waking him. You were gone a long time and you feel incredibly guilty about what you just did. You're just starting to settle when he stretches, rolls over and then half opens his sleepy eyes. 'Hey baby.' He says with a groggy smile. 'You were gone a while.' 'Sorry sweetie. I got carried away on the bike and then went and got a coffee. Just too wound up to come home.' You whisper the little lie to him. 'No biggie. I was just a little worried.' He mumbles groggily. 'Sorry baby. I should have called.' You murmur. 'Hey, if you're all wound up, we could, you know...' You groan to yourself. The last thing you want to do right now is have another penis inside you when you can't come to a climax. You start to scramble for an excuse or a reason to beg him off until tomorrow. Then to your horror, you remember what he told you. 'You just aren't allowed to come then either. Oh and don't think you'll be cutting him off either. You're to give him as much sex as he wants as often as he wants it.' 'Sure sweetie, I'd love to!' You say with your jaw clenched. You hope he'll take the hint. He doesn't. After a few minutes of foreplay and gentle loving kisses, he climbs on top of you and you spread your legs to accommodate him. 'Wow, you're really turned on!' He says as he slips inside you. He grins a huge smile at you. You smile back and hope he'll be quick. He's not. He's still sleepy but he's good and hard and eager for your touch. You groan and try not to enjoy it but he knows you too well. He nibbles and kisses just the right areas and moves his hips in the way that he knows you love. It's agony. You bite on your lip and push the palms of your hands into your eyes and you try to spread yourself wider than normal so you make less contact with him. None of it helps. He adores you and he loves having sex with you and he wants you to climax. You run out of tricks. Your lip is raw and your head aches and your nipples throb from all the pain you've inflicted on yourself to fight it off. And he's still on top of you, thrusting away and determined to see you come. You play your last card. 'Please baby, please finish. I can't take any more...' His lips find your neck, pushing you even closer to the brink. Those same lips trail down your neck, kiss the skin over your collarbones, work down to your now hyper stimulated breasts. His lips encircle your nipple and then he slowly, deliberately drags his teeth over your nipple. Tuesday And the whole time he relentlessly thrusts into you. 'I can't... you have to... finish...' 'It's fine baby! It's fi... ngh...gah!' You squeal as he adjusts the angle of his hips and starts sawing his manhood across your most sensitive flesh. The battle is over. You've lost. You clutch the man you love to you as you ride an intense, powerful orgasm. Even after you loudly squeal and spasm and pull him to you, your husband keeps gently thrusting inside you for a few minutes, dragging what was a savagely intense orgasm into one long, absurdly pleasurable climax. Your husband cuddles with you for a few minutes. He really does adore you and you both enjoy these little intimate moments. You've learned to cherish them since you started your family. Yet the moment he slides back over onto his side of the bed and then tucks himself back into his bed, you begin to panic. You came. You came hard. Despite Padraic's order not to. Oh... you're going to pay for that Ari, you think to yourself as you lay there in bed. Not only did you break the rules, but you broke them scarcely an hour after you left his bar. 'Break them at your peril.' He said. You're boned. Your dreams are ugly, terrifying things. Deformed beasts and creatures chase you and corner you and then brutal pig like men drag you to a stone table and pin you down. Your clothes are torn away as they chain you in place. Then another, darker form approaches carrying a tray of instruments. You can't make them out, but they seem sharp, cruel and sadistic. The dark form sets the tray on a nearby shelf and takes one off the tray. It looks like someone combined an insect with a spool of barbed wire. He approaches you as you struggle in futility against the chains holding you in place. 'The rules have been broken...' It hisses at you. You sit bolt upright with a shriek. Your heart pounds in your chest. You pull the sheet to you in the semi darkness and tremble. You know exactly what scared you. You broke the rules. You really, really tried but you failed. On cue, your husband slides his hand down your back. You jump again and he tries to soothe you with his voice. 'Sweetie! It's me! Shhhh. I got you.' And he wraps his arms around you so that he can comfort you. You let him, because right now your dream has placed you in a state of raw fear and the adrenaline coursing through your bloodstream is making you shiver. He's warm. He's like a smooth muscular furnace and his arms wrap around your tiny frame like a warm blanket. You realize the dream has made you uncomfortably wet. You shift uneasily. It would be perfect to slide on top of him and grind away your fear, but if you broke the rules twice Padraic would... What? What will he do when he finds out? You're not sure you want to find out. That was the most intense, terrifying, abusive, punishing sex you've ever had. And that was when he was just getting to know you. What will he do now that you've already violated his rules? Maybe you should just not go back. You think about that for a minute. Do you want to go back? Padraic seems borderline insane to you. He just seems evil and sadistic to the core. That's it then. You're not going back. It was a mistake. You throw your arms around your husbands neck and kiss him hard. It surprises him a little but he begins to kiss you back passionately and before you both know it he's hard and deep inside you. This time you don't fight it and you encourage him to plunge deeper and faster. He gleefully does your bidding and in moments you're restraining your voice as he takes you again and again to climax so that you don't wake up the rest of your tiny family. Your man humps away on your petite little frame eagerly until you feel the warmth of his release inside you and then he wraps you up in a big hug and kisses you on the face and neck. 'I love you baby.' He whispers in your ear. You press your lips to his face and tell him the same thing, you just don't use words. Morning comes swiftly, and you feel wonderful. You feel relieved that you won't be going back to that bar or to see Padraic again. You celebrate by cozying up to the hubby and enjoy a morning quickie with him. He's delighted to see you this amorous this early in the morning and you take great pleasure in crawling on top of your man. You couple quickly and vigorously and he enjoys watching you moan and writhe on top of him. You deliberately ignore don't think of Padraic or the rules. Whenever you start to remember what happened at that dingy, ugly little bar you block it out. At one point as the memories start to come flooding back you deliberately lock the bathroom door and pleasure yourself relentlessly until you climax twice. You delight in your freedom. Your husband enjoys your newfound aggression in bed too. It lasts for more than a couple of days. You deliberately refuse to think about what you were ordered to do and what the rules are. You're not going back. Screw that guy! But on Saturday night, the dream comes back. It isn't the monsters this time. It's the tiny, dirty bathroom. He's behind you, hurting you. He makes you spread wide. He doesn't take no for an answer. His hands are on you and in you. He humiliates you, violates you and fills you with shame. He makes you submit. He makes the hunger and the ache stop. You sit bolt upright in bed. The sheets are damp with your sweat. Your hand has pulled up the little lace nightie you wore to bed and your fingers are touching that most sensitive part of you. You're incredibly aroused. You look around in the darkness and are greeted only by the prone form of your husband as he gently snores. 'Just a dream.' You mutter to yourself. Sleep eludes you the rest of the night. The following days are no better. The memories come flooding back. You remember it all with crystal clarity. The sex and the violence and the shame keep replaying in your head and you relive those moments. And the horrifying thing about these memories is that they... aren't horrifying. You think about how Padraic used you in that dingy bathroom. How he took control from you without mercy and how he used you like a common whore. You remember what it felt like to have him inside you. He was merciless with you. The tipping point comes on Sunday morning. You're still wrapped in a haze when you tumble out of bed and wander into the shower. The water begins to spray down and you step naked into the pounding deluge. High pressure droplets of water smash into your shoulders and you run your hands through your long hair and luxuriate in the water. You remember what it felt like when he gripped your hair. How he used your mouth. You remember how scared you were when he taped your mouth shut and pinched your nostrils closed. You felt so dizzy, so scared. You were completely at his mercy, utterly out of control and you had never been that aroused in your life. Abruptly you realize that your fingers are between your legs again. 'Dammit!' You shriek and slap your hands on the wall of the shower. You're not going back! You're not! Fuck him! You stay angry with yourself and slam off the water. The curtain jerks back and you yank the towel off the hook and angrily start to blot the water off your skin. You stay angry with yourself until you stat vigorously drying your tangled mass of hair and you glance over into the mirror. You don't look angry. You look hungry. 'I'm not going back.' The words seem less certain now. The girl in the mirror stares back at you. She clutches the towel to her chest. You don't feel confident or cocky any more. You feel the need again. You drop the towel and plunk down on the toilet. Your long, dark hair hangs over your face and eyes and you sit naked in the bathroom and try to think of a way out of this. You can't come up with anything, because you keep finding yourself in a different bathroom. You're on your knees, at his feet. You debase yourself in the most disgusting way possible. It should nauseate you. It does something else entirely. Tuesday night comes and you tell the husband that you're headed off to the gym. He gives you a big hug and asks you to pedal a few miles for him too. He's warm and gentle and he loves you. He's also not what you are aching for. You tell him you might catch a late movie with a friend after working out and he just nods and tells you to call if you're going to be late. You walk out to the car. You're unnerved at how easy it is for you to lie to him and it gnaws at you. The gym is quiet at this time of the day, and you can pick a bike near the back of the gym and try to pedal away your anxiety. It doesn't work. All you can think about is how many rules you've broken and whether it will be better to just confess to him or to try and hide it. You've lost count of your orgasms. You masturbated a couple of times, once specifically to deny him. You pushed your husband away a couple of times when he wanted sex. In short, you've defied him on every direction he gave you. The chain hisses on the bike as you pick up your pace. An older gentleman a couple of rows down looks over and watches you as you wrack the gears on the stationary bike. You breath is starting to come in wheezes now. Your nervous tension is getting the better of you. You look over at the clock. The minute hand ticks a little past nine forty two. You think for a moment about peddling the whole night. That could work. You could ride desperately until you become dehydrated and confused and pass out. And then you'd have no dreams to worry about. You'd have no dreams, except for the ones that you have every night. And the ones that now creep into your daydreams. His hand grips your hair and he forces you to your knees. The chains around your wrists hold you tight and as you look up at him in terror he smiles a cruel smile at you. Like the one you're having now. You stop peddling. You can't run away from this. You can't ignore it. You found what you were looking for. You found what you've been aching for. He filled the hole that was inside you. He quieted the dreams and locked away the shadows. And he owned you. There was no doubt. Any attempt to resist him he crushed instantly with cruel words and pain and sheer force of will. The bike wheel spins slower, the hum of the chain getting quieter as the momentum bleeds off the machine. You step off the bike and stumble. You've pushed yourself so hard that you're borderline exhausted. A quick glance at the clock tells you that you've only got about an hour to get ready and drive to the Darkside. You stop for a quick drink at a fountain in your only concession to the gruelling workout you just subjected yourself to and then stagger into the change room to get out of your damp and sweaty workout clothes. You take a quick shower, or at least it was supposed to be a quick shower and then turns into a fifteen minute deluge as you try to organize your now scattering thoughts and make a plan for dealing with all the rules you've broken. You dry off quickly and then grab your bag and then you realize with horror that the leather satchel that he gave you with all the toys is still there and you have not done one ounce of preparation for this evening. 'You don't have to use any of them.' He says with a shrug. 'But next week I am going to strap you down over something and fuck you in your asshole. And you are going to lick me clean when I finish. So it's up to you as to how painful and disgusting that will be.' 'Oh god. Oh god.' You frantically paw through the bag and look desperately for what you know will be there. It has to be there. You have no doubt that he'll make good on THAT promise. After a few terrified moments of scuffling through the bag, you find the kits that he put in there for you. It makes for an odd moment in the toilet later as you violate yourself twice to ensure that someone can sodomize you with comfort. But these things take time, and as you look up at the clock, you realize that you're running out of it. You hastily get dressed and slip your bag over your shoulder and nearly sprint out the door to your car. You roar out of the parking lot and move as fast as you can to the place you desperately want to be at but are terrified to arrive. Naturally, you seem to catch every red light and slow driver in the universe as you try to travel eight blocks. Finally, you turn down the dingy little side street and pull up next to the Darkside. You slam the car into park and dart out the door, clicking the car locks as you go. The door pops open easily for you and you nearly sprint inside. You look around quickly for Padraic and you spot him over in his corner. His feet are up on a stool, and he's relaxed and watching the television. A half empty glass of dark beer sits on the table next to him. 'I'm here.' You say quietly. 'You are. Indeed.' He says without looking at you. Then he holds up a gold, antique pocketwatch and looks at the face. 'And you are three minutes late.' He says calmly with a chilling finality. 'I'm not... I'm...' You stammer. Your stomach twists. He hasn't even raised his voice or looked at you or left his chair but his cool tone cuts through you like a knife. He turns his head and looks at you and your mouth closes. Your hands tremble as he stares at you and... judges. He slowly raises his hand and points towards the back room. 'Go. I'll deal with you in a minute.' He says with a calm finality that chills your bones. And then he uncoils himself from his chair slowly and stands up. He seems taller and thinner and harsher looking than you remember, but he's still wearing jeans and comfortable running shoes and a neat black dress shirt. You turn and trudge towards your fate in the back room. You're not certain if you should feel terrified or excited. Padraic takes his time getting back to you. You hear him closing and locking the front door and then he shifts a couple of chairs back into place around the room. You look around the dimly lit back room. He's moved some of the gear off to the side and there's a table and a pair of chairs in the center of the room. A simple metal box sits there, with a steel latch and an open padlock and nothing else. You shuffle your feet quietly and look around, and you're startled as the door creaks open behind you. Padraic moves silently into the room. You look up at him and his pale gray eyes that are hidden away behind his spectacles and you feel almost mesmerized. 'Strip tiny girl. You've already wasted enough of my time.' He says calmly. Your hands fumble with your clothing and you slide out of your shirt and bra quickly and place them on the table. The jeans slip off your slender legs a moment later and it isn't until you've sliding the black lacy panties off that your eyes widen and you realize that you never shaved off your pubic hair like he ordered you to. You look down at yourself in horror and then look up at him. He does not look amused. He spins his finger in a classic 'speed it up' gesture. You whimper quietly to yourself and slide the flimsy garment down your legs and then place it on the table with the rest of your clothes. Padraic watches you casually and then he moves to the table and opens the box. His hands produce a pair of odd looking shoes, almost like ballet slippers, a ball of netlike substance and a looped up length of rope. After he produces the items, he calmly takes your clothing and purse and places it inside the box. The lid closes, the latch slips into place and then the lock clicks shut over the latch with finality. It takes a moment to process that he just locked all your clothes, your cell phone and your purse into a metal box and you have not seen any key. While you process that, Padraic eyes you. 'Three minutes late, and ungroomed as well. This is turning out to be a disappointing evening.' He says with an irritated tone. You wince. 'Yes... yes I... I'm sorry. I just...' 'Just what?' He demands. 'I ran out of time. That's all. I'm sorry sir.' Your stomach tightens. You know this is not a good answer. He places a hand on the table and his fingers drum on the metal top. His eyes narrow and he glares at you. 'Was I unclear last week?' He asks. Each word is snapped off like a bullet. 'No sir, you were clear.' Your voice cracks a little as you say it. It's clear that you made a mistake. He glares at you then shoves the mesh and odd shoes towards you. 'Put them on whore. Don't think we're finished discussing this.' He manages to make a promised conversation sound like a threat. You kneel down and pick up the mesh and unravel it. It's actually a pair of fishnet nylons. You're clearly not the first person to wear them as they smell of sex and sweat and fear and rough use has made them tattered. They slide up your thighs until the lacy tops grip the top of your thighs. You smooth them out and glance over at Padraic. He watches you quietly but with an air of menace. You look down at the tattered fishnets and wonder how putting on a piece of clothing can make you feel even more naked. You pick up the shoes next, and they confuse you. They resemble a pair of ballet slippers, but they're constructed of leather. A thin strip of wire connects to a locking metal bracelet on each 'shoe' and instead of a lace a thick electrical wire runs through the footwear. You slip on each shoe and slide the bracelet over each ankle. You pull the wire taut and the leather grips your foot tightly. You look up at Padraic, unsure if you've put them on correctly. He nods and you exhale, happy to have at least satisfied him once. Your celebration is short lived however as he picks up the rope on the table and says 'Come here.' You clamber back to your feet awkwardly. The shoes are surprisingly tight and the leather is slippery. You cautiously move towards him and watch as he twists the rope around itself to make a little loop and then feeds it back into a strand until he has a firm starting point. 'Give me your hand.' He commands and you immediately raise your left hand to him. You wonder if he notices that your fingers are shaking. If he does, he doesn't care. The loop slips over your wrist and he draws it tight and then loops the rope over your thin limb several times. He turns you around and pulls your right hand behind your back and you feel the rope bind your limbs together at the wrist. He loops the rope again and again until he's satisfied and it's all you can do to wiggle your fingers. You think he's done binding your arms until you feel the rope slip around your elbows and then pull them together and cinch tight. You cry a little complaint as he draws your elbows taut against each other and proceeds to bind them securely. Your shoulders start to ache almost immediately. And you whimper and fidget as he completes the punishing tie. Then you feel him slip the rope around your neck, and as you feel him brush aside your hair to place the cord against your skin you start to panic a little. 'What are you doing?' You ask, fear pitching your voice high and scratchy. 'I'm binding you. What do you think I'm doing?' 'I don't know.' You whisper. 'Does that frighten you girl?' 'Yes. I'm pretty scared right now.' You squeak. 'Good.' Is all he says to you. You start to tremble a little. This situation is so far out of your control it's terrifying. Your body responds the same way it always does when you feel like this. You feel your tummy tighten and you feel that hollow ache inside you that only one thing seems to fill. You grow slick and wet between your legs as your body demands you deal with this screaming need. You squirm as coil after coil of rope slips around your neck until he slips the end of the cord in among the coils and his nimble fingers lodge it securely. Tuesday His hands slide down your shoulders and he turns you around and inspects his work. He tugs on the loops in place and you can feel the rope tighten and release. Then he grips it firmly with his fingers and twists it hard and abruptly the rope tightens drastically around your neck. You squirm and arch up on your tip toes to try and take the pressure off and catch a breath. He holds you like that for a long forty seconds, and then releases the tension on the rope. Air returns to you and you gasp it in. You emit a little whining whimper and try not to shake. You look up into his eyes and they're hard merciless and gray, and he's simply measuring you the way a butcher measures a slab of beef. 'So let's talk about your defiance girl.' He says calmly. He's less angry now that you're angry, bound and helpless. You sense that your frantic demeanour is also setting him at ease. 'I'm sorry sir, I didn't mean to defy-URRRK!' He twists the rope around your neck again and drags you up on your toes as you struggle for breath again. 'No excuses. I was very clear on what I expected from you. You were late and your cunt is not shaved. You had ample time to prepare for both of those things.' He snarls into your ear. He grips the rope and pulls it slightly higher and you make choking sounds as you balance on the very tips of your toes. Abruptly, he releases the tension on the rope and you fall to you knees, retching and gasping as your chest heaves. His hand moves from the rope to your hair and pulls your head back. 'Now you are going to explain yourself to me you little cunt, and you are going to do so now.' He snarls at you. You look up at him, chest heaving and throat burning. Your shoulders throb, your feet are starting to hurt from the shoes he's bound you in. You have no power here at all. None. He's stripped it all away from you as easily as he took your clothes. He's unwilling to take excuses and he punishes you whenever you try to struggle or fight back or be defiant. This would probably be the most terrifying day of your life if your body hadn't dropped into a state of extreme arousal from the binding and manhandling. Your mind spins, unsure with what to say to him. Should you lie to him? Will lying make it worse? 'I... I didn't think... I.... was coming back sir. I didn't know.' Your voice sounds tiny, like a little girl 'And yet here you are whore. So what happened?' He drops to one knee and hooks his free hand on the rope coiled at your throat. It tightens slightly in, the threat implied in the action obvious. If he doesn't like your answer, you'll be fighting for air. 'I just... I ...I ... I...' you stammer. Good God this is intense. Your heart feels like it is literally going to pound out of your chest. 'Answer me!' He snarls into your face. 'I wasn't coming back! Ever!' You squeal loudly. 'And yet here you are.' 'Yes sir.' 'So what happened?' 'I started to... to think about what you did to me. And.... And the things you made me do... and then I started to have dreams about it. And... and...' 'So when did that all start?' 'Sat-Saturday. I started on Saturday.' 'So... you decided to not come back... which was actually a smart decision girl.... And then changed your mind on Saturday.' 'No sir... I didn't decide to come back until Sunday. I started having the thoughts and the dreams on... Saturday.' 'All right. That actually makes a little sense. You decided this was too much for you and you weren't going to come back.' 'Yes sir.' 'And what made you decide that you weren't coming back?' 'My husband wanted to... to...' 'Fuck his wife?' 'Yes sir.' You're blushing now. Why are you blushing? 'And that made you want to not come back?' 'Well, not that, I just was trying to not...' You trail off, afraid to tell him what happened next. 'And you came while he was fucking you.' He finishes the sentence for you. You pause for a long time. He's looking right through you and getting irritated at your lack of answer. You can't bring yourself to speak until he starts to tighten the rope around your neck. 'Yes! Yes sir! I tried not to... but he knows... he knows me...' The rope loosens around your neck and you pant audibly. He's still eyeing you critically, but he doesn't seem quite so angry now. 'So he made you come, and then you decided not to come back?' 'I decided that the next morning sir. I just... I was happy. I didn't think I'd need to come back.' 'I see. But you changed your mind on Sunday.' 'Yes sir.' 'So the question really is... did you obey any of the orders I gave you?' You cringe. And then you regret it as you see his eyes harden. 'So that would be a no then. You broke every rule.' You scrabble around for words and can't find any of them. He didn't even give you a chance to lie or evade, he just asked the question and let your face and body answer him. 'Yes sir.' You whisper. He releases the rope and your hair and stands up. You wobble on your knees and struggle to maintain your balance. He doesn't look angry; he just looks deep in thought for a moment. For some reason that pose is even more intimidating to you. It's like he's calculating his next step. He turns back to the table and pulls out a gold key from his pocket. It slides into the padlock and releases the lock with a quiet click. You watch him as he rustles around in your belongings. 'What are you doing sir?' For some reason this is deeply alarming to you. He pulls your cell phone from the box, then closes the lid and closes the lock over the latch. Calmly, he walks back to you and then kneels in front of you. The cell phone springs open in his hand and he smiles a warm smile at you. Your blood chills. 'What's your husbands name whore?' 'Please sir... please don't. Don't do that.' You can feel all the blood draining from your face and your stomach knots up. 'You don't have to give it to me. I can just go through your contact list until I find him. I'm sure that there are all kinds of people on this list that would be extremely interested...' 'DON'T! PLEASE DON'T! I'LL DO ANYTHING!' You scream at him. He looks at you and then snaps the phone shut. He slips it around and then shoves it into his back pocket. You both stay still for a moment, but you know your life just irrevocably changed. You can't decide if this is good or bad. It's probably bad, but that doesn't explain the throbbing need that you feel in your abdomen and pelvis right now. 'I feel that you lack commitment whore. I do.' 'I don't sir...' 'SHUT. UP.' He growls at you. And you do. 'This is what we are going to do whore. We're going to go for a little walk back to my place and I'm going to use your body in every god damned depraved way I can think of. You're going to spread your legs wide and keep your mouth shut unless it's wrapped around a cock. If I sense one fucking IOTA of resistance, I'm calling your husband to come and get you. Exactly like this.' You cringe again. You don't know how your husband would take that. It would be a savage betrayal to him. Your marriage, your family, all of it might crumble. You don't know if you could bear that. Why couldn't you just stay away? What's wrong with you? 'Yes sir.' You whisper. 'I'm not done. All the rules are back in place. You don't have any orgasms but the ones I give you. Your body is available to your husband at any time. Am I clear you insubordinate little fuckpuppet?' 'Crystal clear sir.' You say in a tiny voice. 'Splendid.' He snarls, and then he reaches down and pulls a loose strand of rope from the coil around your neck. He tucks it and adjusts it and after a couple of moments of fiddling he has a little rope leash to guide you with. You struggle back to your feet when he tugs on the rope and then he frowns at you. 'Stand up on your toes.' He orders. You do. He kneels beside you and places a hand on your leg. His fingers are hard and icy and your skin prickles with goose bumps. You feel him twist the metal bracelet around your ankle and it tightens with a couple of clicks. He repeats the process with the other bracelet and it locks tight around your ankle as well. 'You can relax now.' He says and you start to ease your feet down to the floor. The metal bracelets bite into your Achilles tendon however, and you wince and then stand back up on your toes. You look over at Padraic with confusion and he smiles grimly at you. The bracelets force you to keep your foot extended and almost in a permanent en pointe position. 'Now you're ready for a walk.' You shiver. Taking a walk has never sounded torturous before. Padraic gives the rope around your neck a gentle tug and leads you towards the back of the room full of sadistic toys. He opens a door that leads down a hallway illuminated with only a flickering light bulb and then out to a metal door. You're so focused on staying on your toes and keeping up with him that you're literally out the door and standing outside of the building in a back alley. The door slams shut behind you. The lock clicks with finality. You're bound; naked, wearing bondage shoes and standing in a dirty back alley with a man you've apparently just pissed off intensely. Your head swivels in panic as you look around with wide terrified eyes. You desperately want to protest, and you know that you can stop this at any time. But he'll call your husband to come and pick you up. You can't even bear the thought of inflicting that on him. This is too much. Your eyes grow watery and a tear slips down your cheek. And Padraic doesn't seem to notice. If he does notice, he clearly doesn't care. He calmly walks down the alley with your leash in his hand. You struggle to keep up with him as you focus on nimbly walking over garbage and refuse. Your toes and calves are starting to throb. You get about two blocks down a back alley and he finally notices you sniffling and whimpering as you suffer just trying to keep up to his pace. He stops for a moment and let's you catch up to him. You struggle to stay on your toes and try to fight back the tears that are threatening to flow. 'Do you need a break?' He asks calmly. 'Please.' You whimper. 'Kneel. We can take a moment.' Gratefully, you squat down and clumsily take the weight off your toes as you collapse onto the ground. A moan of relief escapes your lips and before you can stop it you whimper a feeble complaint. 'I d...don't know if I can do this.' The words come out hard, and your throat feels constricted as you struggle to hold it together. 'You don't have to. I can call him right now.' 'Please don't do that sir. Please!' You say with a little shudder. 'Then get up. Enough mewling.' You struggle back to your feet with difficulty. Your arms bound behind you and the sadistic shoes locking your foot into a full extension made just standing an exercise in determination and pain tolerance. Finally, you stand back up on trembling legs and he nods and begins walking again. You barely get forty feet and someone calls out to him. To your horror he stops and you cower behind him. 'Paddy boy. Can you spare a few bucks lad?' A battered homeless person sits at the end of an alley. A couple of empty bottles roll on the cardboard beside him. He sits in his own filth and you can smell him from where you are. 'Have you eaten today Roy?' Padraic asks and he saunters down the alley. Oh god. Ohgodohgodohgod. Please don't let him see you like this. 'Jus' some eggs and toast this morning down at the mish.' Roy says with a voice that sounds like barbed wire and gravel, and then he breaks into a coughing fit. Padraic watches him for a moment and then reaches into his pocket. 'If I give you a five Roy, will you eat?' Roy hacks and coughs a little more, but he nods his head. Padraic leans forward and hands him the bill and Roy smiles at him. 'Thank you Paddy. You're a good guy.' He frowns as he spots you. You shiver. The disgusting, stinking homeless guy is eyeballing you now. 'Izzat a new girl Paddy? She's a fine looking filly.' 'I wouldn't call her a girl Roy. More like a cunt.' Your skin flushes bright red. You resist an urge to bolt that would probably end with you face down in a pile of garbage twenty feet from here. These shoes were built for punishment, not escape. 'Well, she's a pretty cunt then. I like her. How come you never give me a turn with your toys Paddy?' 'C'mon Roy, I just got her. I'll tell you what, you go take a shower and get something to eat and if you're sober on the way back tonight you can pick a hole. All right?' 'Sounnz good to me.' Roy slurs. You feel the blood draining from your face. He just promised the homeless guy a turn with you if he took a shower and sobered up. 'Are you... we... were you...' You stammer as you struggle along on your toes. 'Have I lied about anything else?' He says bluntly. 'You better hope Roy decides to crawl into a bottle tonight or you're gonna be getting porked on that sheet of carboard he calls a living room.' 'Oh god.' You say in a tiny voice. The rest of the walk to his place is short, although it feels close to a thousand miles to you. Your calves are actively trembling from muscle strain and you know that tomorrow they will simply throb, as will the bruised and battered toes on your feet. The leather does a great job of binding the foot, but not a very good one at protecting your tender little feet. As you mount the steps to his second floor dwelling, your left calf gives out and you stumble. Before you can fall forward and smack your face off the metal stairs he catches you. You fall limp in his arms and moan, your aching legs and feet overwhelming you. 'Stay with me whore, we've barely started yet.' He comments to you as he places you against a chilly black guardrail. The metal is cool on your skin and you feel a little more aware as you look around at the neighbourhood Padraic lives in. It's a run down area of town, and Padraic lives over some kind of shop. You glance at the sign and realize it's actually a butcher's shop of some kind and you find that oddly fitting considering the way he eyes you like a side of meat. His key slips into the lock and then the door pops open with a creak. He slips a hand around your hip and pulls you inside. You stagger and fight to keep on your feet, and before you know it the door closes with a loud 'THUMP' of finality. 'Home at last.' Padriac says with a smile. You smile weakly back at him. Why is it when he's calm and smiling like this he's even more intimidating than usual? 'Bathrooms there girl. Take a squat. You're gonna want to piss now before we get started.' You look over at the tiny bathroom. It was once pretty and nice but now it's clearly a bachelor's bathroom. A couple of rolls of toilet paper sit on top of the grimy white tank. A couple of razors and some shaving cream sit on the sink and a towel lies folded over the glass door leading to the shower. You struggle over to the toilet on your tip toes and turn awkwardly. Carefully, you bend over and then plop down on the toilet seat. The release of pressure off your toes and calves makes you literally moan with pleasure. Paddy doesn't close the door. He just makes a spinning 'hurry it up' motion with his finger and you hang your head in embarrassment as he watches you release your bladder. As he watches you, he flips out his own cell phone and makes a call. You don't catch it at first, but after a moment you hear him talking to someone. 'Right, right. I'm home right now.' He pauses. 'Yeah, I've got beer and entertainment. Come watch the game with me.' You look up at him. What did he mean by entertainment? 'Right, see you in fifteen.' See who in fifteen? What is he doing now?! Padraic sets the phone on the counter and then he crooks a finger at you. 'Get over here whore. You've had more than enough time to piss.' You groan and struggle back to your feet. It just keeps getting harder and harder to walk in these shoes. You're afraid to see what shape your toes are in now. Padraic starts to slip out of his clothing as you stumble wearily out of the bathroom. He gives you a little shove in a different direction and you stagger down a hallway, fighting against gravity as you careen in the direction he shoved you. 'Sit your ass down on the couch. I'll be in to start working on you in a minute.' He calls down the hallway. You stumble against the wall and brace yourself upright. Carefully, you mince down the hallway trying to take pressure off your toes and feet as you do so. A drop of water splashes on your collarbone, and a moment later a second one drips onto the top of your breast and trickles down the sensitive skin. It takes you a moment to realize that you've started crying. You sniffle and rub your face into your throbbing shoulder, unable to even wipe away the tears. Slowly, you limp into the room that Padraic shoved you towards and as you eye the room, you freeze. A large leather or pseudo leather couch sectional takes up the center of the room, and it faces a large screen TV mounted on the wall. A fridge quietly hums in the corner of the room. But none of those things concern you. The four cameras stationed around the room terrify you however. He can't be planning to film this. He just can't. If this ever got onto the internet, that would be the end. Of everything. Your friends would know, your colleagues at work would know, your family would know and your own little fledgling family would cease to exist. You start to shake violently. Your left leg cramps up suddenly and you fall to your knees hard and cry out. You feel your breathing get more rapid and your chest tightens up as you start to hyperventilate a little bit. 'I told you to get on the couch cunt. Are you deaf?' Padraic growls behind you. There is no denying the tears as they pour down your face now. He can't ignore them as he looks at you. 'P-p-please sir. Please don't do this to me. I-I c-can't do this. Not like this.' He just smiles at you. 'Get on the couch.' As he says so he lifts a remote and red lights flicker on in all four cameras. 'Please Sir! Please!' you sob and press your forehead to his leg. He waits a moment and you pray that he's willing to show an iota of mercy, and then you feel his hand gripping and twisting your hair. You wail as he jerks you back to your feet by your long black mane. The one hand holds you up, the other grips the ropes around your neck and twists them tight. You gurgle and gasp for air, but he has all the leverage and he just strangles you for what feels like an hour but was probably less than a minute. Then he releases the ropes and calmly speaks into your ear and gives you a damning choice. 'Get your ass on the couch, now, or I'm going to go make a phone call. You won't like the person I call.' Still snuffling and dizzy, you nod your head. 'Yes. Yes sir.' You say with a feeble little whimper. He shoves you again towards the couch and you stumble towards it. The pain in your feet and shoulders is forgotten now. It's been replaced with blind fear and a drive to obey. You have to obey. Have to. Your family is depending on you. Maybe if you're depraved enough, or enough of a complete slut, you can talk him into not doing anything with the video. Maybe. The seat of the couch is cool on your behind and the ability to finally sit is a small but unbelievably needed mercy. You don't have any idea how you can possibly walk back to the bar in these shoes. Padraic walks around you and then flops down on the couch as well. He's removed all his clothing from his thin but muscular frame and you can see his pale skin. You can especially see his long thick manhood jutting out. Tuesday Afternoon I could think of better ways of spending my afternoon. I was supposed to be teaching a science class, but thanks to a colleague's skiing accident, I found myself supervising the senior girls' hockey team. Which included my own dear daughter, Zoë. Zoë is a talented player, but she has an aggressive streak, which sometimes gets her into trouble. This time she had gone into a tackle much too hard, which had left the other girl limping badly. I had honestly believed my eighteen year old daughter was a mature young woman, instead I realised I had been nurturing a blood-crazed psychopath. So Zoë got to spend the rest of the training session running around the pitch, with her hockey stick held high above her head. I could feel her eyes burning into me, and I knew we were in for some fireworks later. I made her keep it up until the other girls had gone home. "Just because you're my mother, it doesn't mean you have to treat me like shit!" she snarled. "That's right," I replied. "And I don't treat you like shit. I treat you fairly. I would have punished any of the other girls for doing what you did." Zoë turned her back on me and headed off to the locker-room. I felt a pang of regret, mixed with something else, as I watched her go; her short skirt swung as she walked, barely covering her taut buttocks. When I got to the locker-room, Zoë was already in the shower. I noticed her hockey kit was strewn across the floor. I made a note to have a word with her about that, but maybe this was not the right time. Everyone else was long gone; we had the place to ourselves. I quickly stripped and joined Zoë in the shower area. She was just standing there, holding her face up to the spray, letting the water play over her. I went over to her and placed my hand in the small of my back. "Bitch," she grinned at me, no longer angry. "That's me," I replied. "So you must be the daughter of a bitch?" We laughed together, our argument forgotten. Zoë turned to face me and we embraced. I felt my nipples swell and harden. The water was running down between our bodies, washing away our sweat. A glorious tingling sensation spread over my body as the hot water opened every pore. I pushed Zoë back against the wall and placed my mouth on hers. Our tongues explored each other as I took one of her nipples between thumb and forefinger, pulling on it gently. I lowered my mouth to her breast, taking her nipple in my mouth, carefully nibbling at it, pressing my own breasts against her firm belly. Kneeling on the cold wet tiles, my face was level with Zoë's groin. Fleshy pink folds showed through the dark matted curls. Placing my hands on Zoë's hips, I gingerly reached out with my tongue, feeling it slip between her swollen pussy lips. I began moving my tongue up and down the length of my daughter's slit, making her moan. I felt Zoë's hands on my head, running her fingers through my soaking wet hair. I probed deeper, tasting her juices. When I reached down between my legs, I could feel my own wetness. Zoë gave a deep sigh as I teased her clit with my tongue. I felt her bud grow and harden as I began moving my tongue around it in a circling motion. I was furiously rubbing my own clitoris now, losing myself in the sensations that washed over my body. It felt as if our bodies were melting into one, as Zoë pulled me against her, her legs wrapped around my neck, giving a loud cry as she climaxed; coming again and again as I flicked my tongue back and forth, not letting up until my own orgasm spread through my body, making me lose control; almost losing consciousness. After God knows how long, I looked up at Zoë. She was looking down at me, laughing and crying at the same time. She helped me to my feet and we clung to each other. I could feel us both shaking. Eventually we made our way back to the locker-room, and I found us some towels. Zoë sat astride one of the wooden benches and I sat behind her, towelling her back, relishing every touch of that beautiful body that gave me so much pleasure. I moved closer, pressing my breasts into her back. Now I dried her breasts, taking them in both hands, rubbing the soft fluffy towel over her smooth skin. Zoë opened her legs wider as I moved lower. I discarded the towel, my hands roaming over the inside of her thighs until my fingers found that familiar place between her thighs. Zoë leaned back against me, breathing heavily as I began masturbating her. I buried my face in her still-damp hair, and she moaned at my hot breath in her ear. I lifted my legs and wrapped them around Zoë, squeezing her body between my thighs as I continued to tease her towards another climax. Zoë came silently this time, her body stiffening between my thighs. As her orgasm subsided, I held her in my arms, rocking back and forth, as I had done so often when she was a child. We stayed like that for some time, then quietly disentangled ourselves and began dressing. I could hardly speak, overwhelmed by my feelings of pride and love for my beautiful daughter. It occurred to me how lucky I was, to have such a warm and intimate relationship with Zoë. I reached out and took her hand in mine; we smiled at each other, and I could see the same feelings in her eyes. Suddenly my thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the locker-room door banging open; the cleaners had arrived. Zoë and I finished dressing and picked up our things. As we left the locker-room, the cleaning lady held the door open for us. She was a slim, friendly-looking blonde, in her early fifties. If she had been five minutes earlier, what would she have seen? What would have happened? I guess we would never know. Tuesday Afternoon Josh and Ted stopped in front of Jessie's high school. Jessie, Josh's sister, was talking to a couple of friends, waiting for her brother to pick her up. Ted nudged Josh and jerked a thumb toward the group. "Your sister's friends are hot," he said, making a different jerking motion in his lap. Josh shook his head. "Jesus, Ted; is that all you ever think about?" Josh had listened to Ted's lurid description of every female under the age of thirty, as they drove down the street. He couldn't pass a woman without making some kind of suggestive remark. It was getting old. "Come on, dude," cajoled Ted. "Haven't you ever wondered what that red-head would be like?" He waggled his eyebrows in what he thought was a suggestive gesture. "You know what they say about red-heads..." "The same thing they say about blondes, brunettes, and chicks with tattoos?" Josh asked. "Ted, you say the same thing about whatever kind of chick you're looking at." Ted shrugged. "Well, what can I say? They're all sluts... underneath." He punctuated the last word by grabbing his crotch. "Shit, Ted... Shut up," he slugged Ted's shoulder, "here comes my sister." Jessie bounced up and stood outside the car. "Hey, Ted, Big Brother..." She made no move to get in the car, just glared at Ted, who smiled up at her. Josh slugged him and said, "Open the door, Jerk-Wad." "Stop hittin' me, Dick-Face," replied Ted, as he got out of the car and opened the back door. "After you, Miss Edwards..." he said with mock grace. Ted watched as she ducked and scrambled into the car, hoping to catch a glimpse of upper-thigh, or even her panties. He was disappointed. Jessie had plenty of practice getting into a car in her short school-plaid skirt, without giving her brother's sicko friend a peep show. Once settled in, she smiled sweetly at Ted. "That you, sir. You're a gentleman and a scholar." Josh shook his head, smiling. "Wrong on both counts, Sis," he called back. "Shut up," said Ted, climbing back into the front seat. Jessie dug around in her purse as they pulled into traffic. She found her brush and gave her golden blonde hair a few swipes. She kept her hair short, just below her collar, framing her round freckled face. She wasn't what you would call a classic beauty, having high, plump cheeks and a pug nose, but she was cute. "So, Jessie," Ted said over his shoulder, "what's the scoop on those two girls you were talking to? They available?" "I'm not your pimp, Ted," Jessie replied in a tired voice. "Hey, I was just askin'," he shot back, feigning hurt innocence. "What's wrong? Can't you find any college girls dumb enough to go out with you?" Ted laughed airily. "Oh, you are a real comedian, little girl..." But he said nothing further. Josh smiled to himself, knowing that his sister had struck a nerve. Ted did have trouble finding girls who would date him more than once. Small wonder, he thought, the way he treated them. He had no social skills whatsoever. Ted hadn't learned to keep his big mouth shut. "So, how goes the man-hunt, Jess?" Ted asked, slyly. "Got any poor sucker on the hook, yet?" Josh cringed at the mention of his sister's hunt for a boyfriend. He knew that she felt odd, being the only one of her friends still unattached. It was getting close to graduation, too. If she didn't hook up with someone, Josh would have to be her date to the senior prom. Jessie sighed and responded, "Oh, I have a few prospects," she lied. "Yeah, right," scoffed Ted. "Whoa, check that out," he said to Josh, pointing at a young, large-breasted blonde. Leaning out the window, he shouted, "Hey babe! Whatcha doin' later?" Josh laughed and said, "Come on, Ted. Get over yourself, will you?" Ted sighed and remained quiet as they drove on down the road. The silence was a welcome respite from Ted's constant stream of cat calls and lewd observations. Josh popped a CD in the car's player, and they drove on listening to DePeche Mode. When they got to Ted's apartment, he hopped out without a word and waved over his shoulder. Jessie got out and took his place in the front seat. "I hope he's not upset," she said earnestly. "Forget him," her brother said dismissively, "he's an asshole." "Then why do you hang out with him?" Jessie asked. "Habit, I guess," replied Josh. "We've been friends so long, I don't even think about it." Jessie sighed heavily and hugged her backpack. Josh shot her a glance and asked, "What's the matter, Sis?" "I can't find anyone to take me to the prom," she muttered. She turned a puffy-eyed face to her brother. "Is there something wrong with me, Josh? Am I ugly, or what?" "Hell, no, you're not ugly," replied Josh. "You look great. A little... innocent, maybe." Jessie looked puzzled. "What do you mean?" "Well, you look kind of... prudish." He cleared his throat and added, "Not that that's bad, necessarily. It's just..." "What? I should look like that slut Shelly Piccolo?" Josh knew Shelly Piccolo. Hell, everyone knew Shelly Piccolo. She'd slept with half the boys in her eighth-grade class, and worked up from there. By the time she got to high school, most of the senior boys knew her reputation: "If you want a good time, just call Shelly Piccolo. She puts out like a Coke machine." "No," replied Josh, fighting back the involuntary hard-on brought about by the mention of Shelly Piccolo. "I don't think you need to go that far. Just try to look more... accessible." Josh tried to explain that it was more a matter of attitude. She usually hugged her backpack to her chest, as if it were a shield. And it wouldn't hurt to undo one or two of the top buttons on her blouse. And she shouldn't glare at boys, as if she were daring them to talk to her. Jessie listened attentively, making mental notes. "So, all that stuff makes me look prudish?" she asked at the end. Josh shrugged. "Yeah, sort of. Of course, that's just your big brother's opinion." He turned the corner and pulled into the driveway of their father's house. "I mean, it all says: 'I wouldn't even consider having sex with you.' And that's a real turn-off." "Josh," she said timidly, as he shut off the ignition, "I don't think I want to have sex." Josh chuckled, then looked at his sister's face. She looked like a frightened rabbit, cowering against the car door. "You're serious..." She nodded and opened the car door, bolting for the house. "Huh," Josh said, staring after his sister. He'd never heard of an eighteen year old girl who didn't at least think about having sex. This was not good, he thought. He gathered his stuff and followed Jessie into the house. She wasn't in the kitchen, so she must have gone on to her bedroom, he thought. Oh, well, she needed some time to think things out. Maybe, if she took his advice, she could finally get a date. He grabbed a Coke from the fridge, a bag of sour cream and onion flavored potato chips from the pantry and went in to the living room to watch TV. His team was playing an exhibition game, so he had no further thought of the conversation with his sister. It wasn't until half-time that he even got out of his chair. When his bladder demanded attention, he got up and went to the bathroom. As he came out, he could hear sobbing coming from his sister's room. He went to the door and knocked gently. "Sis? You okay?" he called. "Yeah," came the weak reply. Josh sighed, considered going back to the game, and then knocked again. "Sis? Can I come in?" "Okay." He eased the door open and saw his sister getting up from her desk, closing her diary. She had changed into a pair of worn jeans and a gray pullover sweater-shirt. The gray woolen material emphasized the redness of her round, freckled face. She reminded him of the days when they were in grade school and some bully would steal her doll, or tie her pig-tails together. He was overcome by his protective instinct, and determined to fix whatever was wrong. She stood in front of him, eyes downcast, tears drying on her round cheeks. She took a deep breath, making her firm round breasts rise provocatively as she looked up and met her brother's eyes. "What's the matter," asked Josh, looking stern. Jessie stepped forward and put her hands on his shoulders. "Oh, Josh! I'm never going to find a date..." She began weeping again as Josh hugged her. "I'm such a loser!" Josh sighed. "Oh, is that what's bothering you?" He pulled her away slightly and looked into her red eyes. "I thought we had that settled. All you need to do is a little image polishing..." "But," she stammered, "Even if I do... I wouldn't know what to do! I-I don't even know how to kiss properly." She buried her face in Josh's shoulder and sobbed again. Josh stroked his sister's trembling back and made soothing sounds. "Come on, Sis. It's not that bad." He pulled her back again, saying, "Look, what if I showed you how to kiss? Would that help?" Jessie stopped sobbing and stared at Josh with a blank expression. "That sounds stupid," she said flatly. "It's like one of those dumb romance movies..." "Fine," said Josh, turning to leave. "You just figure it out on your own..." Jessie ran up and grabbed her brother's arm. "Wait," she implored. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be rude." She placed her hands on his shoulders and smiled up at him. "Go ahead. Teach me..." She puckered up and lifted her lips. Josh laughed and said, "First of all: no puckering. They only do that in the movies." He put his hands on either side of her face and shook her gently. "Loosen up... There..." He gave her a light slap on the cheek. "Just hold still and follow my lead. Now..." He leaned over and placed his lips against hers as he grasped her lightly around her waist. He kissed her gently and pulled his head back to assess his sister's reaction. She still had her eyes closed, licking her lips. "You can open your eyes, now," he said. "Well?" "That was okay," she whispered. "I thought it would be... different." He leaned in once more, this time pressing her close and kissing her a little harder. He felt her breathing change, deepening, as her breasts rubbed against his chest. As he pulled away, a thin line of spittle dripped onto Jessie's chin. When he looked down, he could see her stiffening nipples poking at the fabric of her top. He smiled and asked, "Something more like that?" Jessie took a deep breath and replied, "Yeah." She wiped at her chin and said, "Um, I think I get the general idea..." Josh saw the redness in his sister's face change and spread down her neck. He also felt a rising pressure in his pants and realized that he was getting off on this. He pulled his sister closer and said, "I think you need more practice." "I don't..." she began, then, as he pressed his body against her, "Okay." Josh reached up with his right hand, coming up Jessie's back and pulling her head to one side. He began kissing her lightly on her neck, working up from the base until he reached her ear. His other hand rested in the small of her back, pressing her into him. Jessie felt tingles dancing on her spine as Josh kissed her neck, and a curious sensation in her stomach when her body pressed against her brother's stiffening manhood. Her head lolled back and her breath came in short gasps. She knew this was wrong, but didn't care. She just wished it would never end. "I don't think you're a loser," Josh whispered in her ear, punctuating his comment with a kiss on her earlobe. Grasping the back of her neck, he kissed her again, on the mouth. Her lips parted as he slid his tongue into her mouth. As he explored that hot cavity, he slid a hand down to her denim-covered ass and pressed her closer. As she quivered, he began moving his hips back and forth, savoring the feel of her body. Jessie gasped for breath. "Josh, how did we get on the bed?" They were kneeling on Jessie's bed; a single with Winnie the Pooh sheets and quilt. Josh had maneuvered them onto it as he groped his sister. The action had been almost unconscious... Almost. Josh smiled at his sister and said, "I thought this would be more comfortable." He moved his thighs forward, his left knee coaxing her legs apart. His thigh rubbed against the crotch of her jeans, allowing him to feel the damp heat there. "Have you had enough practice?" he asked softly. "Mm, no," whispered Jessie. "I think I need more instruction." Josh tilted her head back and kissed his sister on the clavicle. He pulled at the collar of her top and exposed a shoulder, planting hot, wet kisses. With his other hand, he stroked her side, then her firm, round breast. Jessie moaned softly as he massaged her and squeezed her hard nipple through the woolen fabric. The feeling in her stomach had become a pulsating throb of pleasure. She felt her panties getting moist with her vaginal secretions. Her brother's thigh, pressing against her mound, sent chills up her spine. "You're getting pretty wet down here," Josh said, moving his hand down to Jessie's crotch. He stroked the damp denim of her jeans, pressing firmly against her mound. "Josh," she whispered, "we shouldn't..." He silenced her with a kiss, once again exploring her hot mouth. She kissed him back, sliding her tongue across his teeth and the roof of his mouth. He moved his hands to the hem of her wool top, pulling up. He rubbed her exposed midriff before pulling the top further up. "Arms up," he whispered. Jessie obeyed, lifting her arms to allow the removal of her gray sweater. Her arms came down to rest on her brother's shoulders. Josh felt the skin of her back, rubbing small circles with both hands. He moved his head down to kiss the soft skin between his sister's ample breasts. She threw her head back, moaning, "Yes. Yes." With a teenager's practiced hand, he unsnapped the black lace bra, pulling the straps forward as he nudged the cups away with his nose. He lowered the bra and slid it off to the side. His lips found the erect nipple of Jessie's right breast and he tickled it lightly with his tongue, then sucked gently. Jessie grasped Josh's hair, pressing his face into her tingling breast. With her other hand she stroked her free breast, squeezing the nipple. As her brother suckled at her tit, she began rhythmically gyrating her hips, humping his thigh. "Oh, God, Josh," she groaned shakily. "Ah... shit, that's good!" Josh ran his hands up Jessie's torso, grasping her under her arms. "Lie back," he whispered, giving her a little shove. Without questioning him, she responded, "Okay," and leaned back until her head rested on the Winnie the Pooh pillow. She lay back, panting and watching her brother. Josh ran his hands down her stomach and back up to her breasts. He began there and kissed his way back down. She twitched reflexively as his lips caressed the short hairs below her navel. As he kissed her belly, Josh massaged her denim-shrouded crotch. "Oh, my God, Josh! What are you doing?" As he continued working at her zipper, Josh replied, "Don't worry about it. This is gonna be great!" He opened the top of her jeans and kissed Jessie's panties. "Trust me..." She watched, confused, as her brother pulled her jeans down. They were tight and clung to her damp skin. As he pulled, he raised her legs up and fought to get the pants off. Jessie felt a wave of fear come over her. "Josh, stop," she said, without much conviction. She locked her ankles together to prevent the removal of her pants. "Don't..." Josh let her legs drop to the bed. He leaned down and stroked he exposed panties, feeling the texture of the black lace, and the warmth of her damp pussy. He ran two fingers under the side of the panties and felt her shaved mound. His fingers moved down to her damp slit, feeling the slippery warmth of her labia. "You don't want me to make you feel good?" Josh asked. "What's this, then?" He rubbed her slit, found her swollen clitoris and tweezed it between his fingers. "Oh, God!" exclaimed Jessie, her body jerking. He gave her clit another twist, causing another wave of vaginal flow. He inserted his fingers between her labia and rubbed the lining of her opening. "You don't like that?" he asked. "Okay, then..." He removed his fingers and wiped the dampness on his sister's stomach. "I'll stop. If that's what you want." Jessie looked at him with pleading in her eyes. She let out a long whimper, then said, "Damn you, Josh! Don't stop!" "That's my girl," praised Josh, lifting her legs. He finished removing the jeans and spread his sister's legs. "I just want to make you feel better," he said, placing his hand on her mound. He pulled the waistband down, kissing the panty-embossed flesh and her shaved mound. Jessie raised her hips as he pulled her panties down to her knees. He sat back and pulled her feet up, removing the panties. Then he spread her legs. He admired his sister's glistening pussy for a moment, then lowered his head, pressing his lips into her hot, dripping snatch. Jessie screamed and bucked as her brother sucked her clitoris, sending a jolt of pleasure up through her body. As he continued, she felt waves of contractions seize her body. The stimulation elicited ever more vaginal discharge, so that when Josh raised his head, his chin was shiny with her juices. "You liked that, didn't you?" he asked, grinning broadly. Jessie panted, raised her head to stare down at her brother. "Wh-what the Hell was that?" she asked. Wiping at his chin, Josh replied casually, "That, little sister, was an orgasm." "Oh," she said, letting her head fall back. "Is that all?" she asked the ceiling. Josh crawled forward, pausing to scoop up two fingers of her cum. He leaned on an elbow as he wiped the sticky fingers on her lips, then kissed her before she could scold him. "You feel better now?" he asked. Jessie grinned sheepishly and replied, "Yes, Big Brother. Much better." She reached down and felt the large lump in his jeans. "But what about you? Your thing is as hard as a rock!" "Ah," said Josh sagely, "now we get to the second part of the lesson..." He stood up on the bed and urged Jessie to her knees before him. "Now undo my pants," he said, smiling down at her round face. "Alright," replied Jessie. She began to undo the button and pulled down on the zipper. "Not so fast," said Josh. "Go slowly, erotically." "Oh, I see," said Jessie. "Like a stripper." She smiled girlishly up at her brother. "What do you know about strippers?" he asked. Jessie giggled. "Nothing, really," she replied. She returned her attention to her brother's pants. She pulled the zipper down, slowly, then reached up to caress the bulge in his boxers. "It really is hard," she said. She leaned in and felt the bulge with her cheek, then put her mouth on it, biting down gently. "Hey, what gives?" asked Josh. "It looks like a big sausage," replied his sister. "I thought I'd give it a bite." She rubbed her brother's sausage and frowned. "Did I hurt it? I should kiss it better." With that, she pressed her lips to the cotton of his boxers and kissed the wounded bulge. She felt it throb against her lips as she administered her healing touch. "Oh, that's much better," said Josh, raising his head, eyes shut. "Oh, yeah." Jessie continued peeling away Josh's jeans until her brother stood in his boxers. She reached up and pulled the waistband away from his body, looking down at his tool. "Oh, my," she said in faux shock. "Look at that monster!" Josh chuckled softly. "And you would be a cock expert, eh?" "Oh," she replied slyly, "I've seen a few... pictures." She slowly pulled down her brother's boxers, revealing his stiff manhood. Cautiously, she took it in her fingers and felt along the length of it. Reaching the tip, she felt the sticky precum, which oozed forth. Tuesday Afternoon Movies There is something naughty about a movie theater. Is it because it's dark and lots of people are in it but they can't see you or what you're doing? Is it an illusion of anonymity? Perhaps, but whatever it is I have always wanted to have sex in a movie theater, and one day, I got to. It was a Tuesday afternoon and I was playing hooky from work. It was just one of those days that absolutely nothing could get me to drive to work. So I called in and said I wasn't feeling well. I put on a flowing loose skirt, sexy shirt that dipped down low between my breasts, and the best one of all, no panties. I was feeling naughty and wanted to do something naughty as well. I knew exactly where I was going, to the movie theater close to my home. I knew it would most likely be empty, but I hoped that there might be someone interesting playing hooky, just like me. I bought my ticket and some treats, in case I was all alone in the theater. I walked in to the overpowering darkness and began climbing the stairs to the 3rd row from the top, the best row in my opinion. As I was climbing the stairs I looked around and saw that there were two people in the 5th row from the bottom and an incredibly hot looking man in, where else, the 3rd row from the top. Looks like my kind of man. He had brown hair, a gorgeous looking face, and lips that begged to be licked and kissed. I made eye contact as I climbed the stairs and smiled. He smiled back and continued the eye contact. I was beginning to get wet and hoped this would be an afternoon I wouldn't forget. I stopped at the 3rd row and started down the isle. When I got to where he was sitting, I asked if anyone was with him. "No, I'm all alone." He said with a smile. I could see that he was interested and I moved to go past him. As I moved in front of him, I "tripped" over something and landed in his lap. I took a moment to "gather" myself and took note of his hands, which where on my hips. I looked back at him and said, "Oops. I must have tripped over something." He smiled and said, "Lucky me". I made a point of trying to get my feet under me, in the mean time grinding my hips on his lap like a stripper does during a lap dance. I could feel that he enjoyed this very much and knew this was going to be a day I wouldn't forget. He helped me up by sliding his hands from my hips down under my ass, and I instantly felt my pussy contract. He took his time before lifting me so I continued to grind my hips. When I was standing, I turned around and bent down and placed my hand on his shoulder to thank him. I knew this would give him a great view of my amazing tits, which his smile showed me he enjoyed. "No problem, ma'am" he said. Since the movie hadn't started yet, I sat down next to him and said, "You're in the seat I normally sit in, so I thought you wouldn't mind me having this one." He continued to smile and said, "Please by all means". I sat down and realized for the first time how good he smelled. I smiled at him and thanked him for the seat. I made a show of trying to open my treat, and turned to him and asked if he could. I hoped the bag would burst open and the candy would go flying. My prayers were answered. He looked at me as if to apologize, and I said, "Oh it's everywhere. Let me help you." I leaned over and began picking up the candy from his seat. I plucked it off his lap, shirt, on the outside of his legs, and then where I wanted the most, between his legs. I scooped the candy up with my left hand and began to explore. He just sat there and enjoyed me touching him. His erection was clearly evident in his pants and I continued to touch him as I was getting every last piece of candy from his chair. When I had gotten it all, I looked up at him and thanked him for letting me get it. He couldn't speak, and just shook his head. I said, "Oh I see another piece, let me get it for you". I moved out of my seat and knelt in front of him. I pushed my titties into his lap and dug around behind him on the seat for the "piece" of candy. When I got it (it was already in my hand before I did this), I looked up at him and put that piece in my mouth and said, "Yummy, I love candy at the movies". I stood up then and went to move back to my seat. He grabbed my waist and pulled me down onto his lap. I said, "Did you see a piece somewhere?" "Yes, let me get it for you." He said. His left arm was wrapped around my low back and I straddled his lap. He put his face into my titties, which had basically fallen out of my bra and shirt at this point, and began kissing between my tits. He moved up to my nipple that had indeed come out of my shirt. He sucked my nipple and lightly bit it, rolling it between his teeth. He looked up and smiled at me and said, "Yummy, I love candy at the movies." As he looked up at me, his other hand moved under my skirt. I could feel his hand moving up my thigh and I watched to see his reaction when he found out I didn't have panties on. When his fingers found my pussy, he flicked them back and forth on my lips. "Nice, very nice" is all he said. He played with my pussy lips for a couple of minutes until my pussy juices started to drip out of me. He got his fingers wet and then brought them to his lips to taste. As he was licking my pussy juices off of his fingers, I bent down and kissed his lips as well, tasting me on his lips. I grabbed his hand and stuck his index and middle finger into my mouth. I sucked them, like I was sure I would be sucking his dick soon, until I sucked all of my juice off of him. I moved his hand back under my skirt and he began playing with my lips again. His fingers felt so good moving over my skin and in my pussy. He explored my pussy and let the juices drip onto the chair. I couldn't believe how wet I was. He fucked me with his fingers until I started moaning. By this time the movie had started, so nobody could hear us. I put my hands down to his pants and undid his zipper. I pulled his dick out and couldn't wait to get it in my mouth. He wasn't done finger fucking me, so I scooted back on his lap so I could see his dick. It was about 6.5 inches long and fat with an even fatter head. I started moving my hand up and down on his dick, stroking him faster and faster. He started to precum and now I wanted it in my mouth. He was still finger fucking me so I said, "are you gonna let me taste you? It's only fair." He said, "No, I want to feel your pussy now." So I moved up on his lap and rested my pussy on the head of his dick. I could feel him pulsing and straining to get in my pussy, but I was going to tease him a bit. I rubbed my pussy around his head and let only his head go in. He moaned. I began kissing him as I let only a little bit of him in at a time. I would let ½ an inch go in and then pull him out so just his head was in. A little bit more in, and pulled all the way out. When he started moaning deeply in his throat, I stuck my tongue in his mouth and took him all the way in. When I got to the base of his dick, I just sat there. I leaned back and took my titties out of my shirt. I wanted him to suck and bite my nipples as I fucked him. I began moving slowly on his dick, not letting him rush me. He put one hand between us, and let it rest on my clit, so that when I moved, his finger would stimulate my clit. I continued this motion for a good 5 minutes and then I wanted more! I began riding his dick faster and faster as he bit my nipple. Oh my god was I wet! He wanted me to cum quickly so he could feel it, but I had other plans. I twisted around so that I faced the movie screen. He pulled up my skirt so that he could see my ass and leaned forward to play with my titties. He squeezed my ass and started to push me back and forth on his dick. We teased and fucked each other for a good half of the movie and then I was ready to cum, but I didn't want him to. That was reserved for my mouth. I told him so and he said go ahead, I'll hold it. So I went to work on my clit and soon enough I was having the most amazing orgasm. By this time, the people in the front row were looking around, so I knew I was being loud. I didn't care, they could come watch for all I cared. When my orgasm was over, I stood up and knelt down on the floor. I wanted to taste me on his dick. I took his dick in my mouth. He tasted so good; well I tasted so good on him. After a couple of minutes I had sucked my juice off of him and I could then taste him. Did he taste good or what? I didn't play around; I knew he was close to cumming so I started working on his dick. I love sucking dick so I know all the tricks to it. I could feel his dick getting harder than before so I took him all the way in. When his dick hit the back of my throat, his cum shot out and slid down my throat. He pushed on my head so I took more of him, and came again. He tasted so much better than the candy! After he came, I sat back on his lap and kissed him so he could taste his cum on me. He kissed and bit my nipples some more. The movie was ending soon, so I said in his ear, "Thanks for the candy. It certainly made the movie worth seeing." I stood up and left the theater. Sweet, anonymous sex. That's what Tuesday afternoons are good for! Tuesday at the Mall The mall was pretty empty, being a weekday afternoon. Actually, if it wasn't empty, I wouldn't be there, with all the teen girls, looking much too mature for the goofy boys who followed behind them. Mix in the families with 17 kids on leashes, and assorted old ladies who think they are entitled to cut the lines, just because they can, and you've got a perfect excuse for me to stay away, for sure. It was a crisp September day, and I needed some jeans. The major store had sales going on, and I liked being able to get everything in one place. I entered through the perfume section, and the sales lady offered me a squirt. What the hell, it was free, some new Cowboy fragrance, not half-bad. When the lady saw I wasn't buying, she moved quickly to someone else and I heard a voice. "Hmm, that smells manly!" Standing by me was a woman in her fifties, well-coiffed, with streaked hair. She was thin, about 5'5, wearing a black running suit and pearls. This woman hadn't run in a long time! She had a great smile, bright white teeth, and her eyes were crystal-clear. "Yes, it's not bad, I didn't catch the name, though." She slid closer and sniffed me on her toes to get close. Since I stand six foot, she got good and close, and if it hadn't been for her age, I would have thought she was coming on to me. But, since I was twenty-six, I figured that was unlikely. She smiled. "I'll check with her later. My husband could use a bit of a make-over, the Old Grump!" I smiled, thinking, "Well, that pretty much eliminates flirting, if she's mentioning the Hubby." She mouthed, Thank you" without saying it, and I thought that was sexy. I guess I was having those Tuesday Afternoon Hornies, and felt a tingle in my crotch. As I moved away, I made a note to jerk off when I got home. Up the escalator, I found Men's/Young Men's and stopped by Winter Jackets, thinking I could use a new one of those. I was touching and checking the prices, when I heard, "Small World!" It was my Fifty Year old from downstairs, two rows over, looking at Leather Jackets. "Oh, Hi!" I nodded at the jacket in her hand. "For your husband?" "Hmmm, maybe, if he's good! What do you think?" I moved closer and said, "Very nice! He's lucky you have such good taste in clothes." "Really?" she beamed. "I just can't get over how soft it is! Feel!" I did, and it was, fine Italian leather, and you could smell it! "Wow! Yeah," I looked at the price tag, then saying, "Whew! Too rich for my blood!" She laughed again. "Well, he can afford it! You need decent clothes, right? His golf clubs cost $2,000!" I nodded. "Mine were about $200, new." And I'm sure you're a better golfer than him. Probably better at a lot of things!" Those eyes were saying flirt again, maybe I was right before. "Well, good luck with it, he's a lucky man." "Don't I know it? But he doesn't! Anyway, I never remember his size. Could you do me a favor? He's got a big gut, but otherwise, you're about his size. Could you try this on for me?" It was a day off, and flirting was always fun, even with a woman twenty-something years older! So, I shrugged off my old jacket and she held the leather for me, sliding it up my arms, professionally. I turned, facing her, and she brushed the lapels, slowly, smiling at me. "Hmmm, very nice! It fits you perfectly! How does it feel?" It felt great, and I told her that. "You look like a movie star! The girls won't be able to keep their hands off you." She continued brushing my chest, too intimately for first contacts, checking the sides, tugging at the buttons. "Well, if that was true, I'd hock my golf clubs!" "They wouldn't quite cover it, Darling, but if it made Larry look like you, I'd hock my diamonds! You look good enough to eat!" She was definitely coming on to me! In JC Penny's! And I was enjoying it. "You know what you should try on? Leather pants!" Now, I'm not a leather pants kind of guy, but if she was looking for a Ken Doll to play with, why not? We found a pair, and she knew exactly where a changing room was. Not the block of five together. Off in the corner were two separate rooms. I scanned the area and there was one salesman dealing with a woman, neither paying us any attention. We got to the door and she whispered, "Come out when you're ready, Baby, I'll be right here." I hurried, not wanting to waste too much time, hoping I would coax her into my SUV for a brief romp or BJ. My situation was hampered by my suddenly-growing manhood. Stuffing it into those tight leathers wasn't easy, and I had trouble closing them. I heard a knock at the door. "Ready?" The door opened, and the Lady in Pearls stood there admiring me. "Hmmm, you look scrumptious!" She moved in and slid the door shut behind her. "Hmmm, looks like someone has been having dirt thoughts!" She cupped my cock through the leather, and I jumped. "Too tight, honey, better take them off!" She helped me out of them, and went right back to holding my situation. "Somebody needs some relief, don't you think?" With that, she shook her hips and lowered her running pants, keeping the top intact. She turned and bent, showing her bare ass with drenched lips. She raised one leg up on the bench, spreading for me. "We don't have much time, baby. Don't be shy, just give it to me." Not being used to such invitations, and hard as a rock now, I entered her from behind as she dropped her head, and leaned forward. My hands rested on her hips as I pressed onward, inching my way, one inch per thrust. He voice was guttural as she urged me on. "Yes, baby, harder, harder!" I was not fully inside her, and she swayed her hips for my seven inches, churning like a butter mill. "Faster, baby, faster!" The bench squeaked as I plowed into her, no time for niceties, racing to the finish line as she trembled below me, rocking her head form side to side. I thrust one last time, and held, as the waves of passion flushed from my cock, deep inside her, and she threw her head back and grunted in satisfaction, her lips clenching around me, keeping those juices locked inside her. As quickly as it started, so it ended. She pulled up the pants, spun to face me, patted and kissed my cheek. "I'll be outside, Baby, be quick!" She slipped out and slid the door closed. I dressed quickly. There was no spillage, no sign of our tryst. I shoved my feet into my shoes and hurried out, looking left and right for the lady, but she was nowhere to be found. My jacket was where I left it, and I felt in a daze. This was truly wild! My fingers felt something in the pocket and I pulled out a note. It read, "If you enjoyed, call next Tues" with a phone number. I smiled, sliding it into my jeans and feeling the last few drops of cum drip from me. I couldn't wait to see what next Tuesday held! Tuesday at Three All of his friends told Peter Townsend that he was crazy to buy the apartment in Cartagena, Colombia, in the luxury medium-rise building overlooking the ancient harbor, now yacht basin, as his retreat. But it was so convenient for him to sail his boat right up to the building's dock and whisk himself up to his retreat with its heavy security, and Cartagena catered to some of the special interests he didn't want to own up to back in Chicago. When they said, "But Colombia, with all the drug warfare and the kidnappings of executives?" he'd just laugh and think to himself, "Hiding in plain sight." He certainly didn't want to tell them that he made far more money from the drug running between Cartagena and Naples, Florida, on his yacht each year than his position as CEO of the major pharmaceuticals manufacturing corporation had made him in the last twenty years. What was a little balancing of Colombian drug cartels in the face of an early retirement without a financial care in the world—and with some added benefits in the meantime? The sun was high over the harbor, beating down on the bulletproof glass covering his terrace as he swam lap after lap in the pool that took up most of the terrace he'd had covered and that jutted out toward the old castle walls guarding—not always successfully—the approach into the harbor for centuries. He was reviewing the distribution plans for this week's take across the States via his network of Florida bush pilots. He had to review the particulars every day; he had to keep it all in his memory; nothing was consigned to paper or computer file. He was careful and discrete in all of the activities he wanted to hide from his other world back in Chicago. After he finished his laps and rested in the lounge on the small square of terrazzo between the edge of the pool and the sliding glass doors into his living room, he planned to go to the closet in his guest room and cut the stash he'd just acquired into marketing share portions and pack it into sample drug kits he carried around with him on corporation business. Hiding in plain sight was a favorite ploy of his. No one had ever supposed that selected packets of dietary fiber powder his company was peddling to the world actually held heroin. Laps and delivery network review finished, Townsend rose out of the pool and padded over to the lounge. He was in great shape for his forty-five years. His muscles were toned, his face was as square-jawed and handsome as his plastic surgeon could sculpt, and he'd managed to keep his own hair, although he'd stopped dying the hair at his temples when he was told that gray there looked distinguished on him. He was barrel chested and thickish in the waist, but he was just a solidly built man, with excellent musculature, a Neptune or Zeus rather than an Apollo or David. Townsend lay back in the lounge and closed his eyes briefly. But after a few moments, he sighed and reached for the sex magazine on the table next to the lounger. He was keyed up and wanted to let off a little steam. He flipped the magazine over and started to peruse the photos. As he turned the pages, his hand slowly glided down his torso and under the hem of his Speedo. As he became more engrossed in the photographs, he pushed the Speedo down and off his legs and started up a slow but steady rhythm of stroking his engorged cock. He was lost, safe in his world of security, in his fifth-floor apartment, with the bars over the windows, solid bulletproof canopy covering the terrace, the latest in security alarm systems, and his small armory of personal protection assault rifles, most of them back in the closet of the guest bedroom with the drug stash. He'd have every reason to feel very safe if the security alarm system was actually armed that afternoon and if all of the double locks on the service door into the laundry room from the service elevator shaft had been bolted—if. But they weren't, just as the times that lax security at the Castillo de San Felipe de Barajas at the harbor entrance had nullified the protection of Cartagena at the wrong time. It took the two men practically no time to pick the locks of the service door at all and to steal silently into the apartment's laundry room on moccasined feet. They were dressed all in black, from nylon trousers, to Ts, to the silk hoods they pulled down over their heads before they carefully moved across the kitchen and dining room and into the living room, and positioned themselves behind the draperies on either side of the open sliding glass door out onto the terrace. When they spied Townsend masturbating on the lounge by the pool, they smiled at each other and began to strip down to only the hoods covering their heads and knives in sheaths strapped to their thighs. The taller of the two, the dark Colombian, was also the younger of the two, strongly built, an obvious devotee of the gym. The cock he began to stroke while watching Townsend was long and thin. The shorter one, the darker Colombian, was of stouter, more solid build, probably the more heavily muscled of the two. His cock was barely noticeable when he first freed it, but it was impressively thick and was lengthening out nicely as he enjoyed the view of Townsend masturbating in supposed solitary splendor. At a signal from the darker Colombian, the two moved silently out on the terrace, keeping to the late afternoon shadows for as long as possible. Almost before Townsend knew they were there, the taller, younger one was straddling his chest and pushing his arms above his head. Townsend began to struggle, but then he felt the cold steel at the base of his ball sac. He saw that someone else was down there, but he couldn't make him out around the looming torso of the dark man straddling his chest. In any event, Townsend's immediate attention was focused on that long thin cock slapping him in the face. "Suck his cock and do it nicely or you lose your balls," a gruff voice rose from behind the young man hovering over his chest. "You can feel the knife, can't you?" Townsend certainly could feel what thus far was the flat side of a hunting knife up under his balls. He also felt a large hand gripping his upper thigh. The head of the younger man's cock was pressing at his lips, and, with the knife at his balls, there was little else to do but open his mouth to several minutes of sucking and gagging on a cock exploring his inner cheeks and the back of his throat. He felt the knife being withdrawn, and he could see out of the corner of his eye a beefy arm swing over to the table. His bottle of lotion was taken up. He felt cold cream being roughly fingered into his ass entrance, and Townsend began to squirm. But he stopped again as he felt the steel move up under his balls. Thick, moistened fingers were probing his ass, loosening him and widening him, searching deep inside him and pumping him slowly. He groaned and moaned in arousal despite his predicament. The dark one pulled his dick out of Townsend's mouth and turned to say something to the darker one, who went back into the living room. He came back with a handful of condom packets. Still standing over Townsend's chest, the dark one made Townsend open a packet and roll the condom on his dick, while the darker one apparently was crowning himself. Townsend certainly couldn't feel a knife at his balls in that moment. With a surge of strength that took the two by surprise, Townsend pushed up, rolled off the lounge, and lurched through the open glass doors into the living room. Townsend stumbled toward the back of the apartment, toward the guestroom. The two caught up with him there. Leaning in the guestroom doorway, his back to the frame, the tall, dark one wrapped his arms around Townsend's belly and pulled the older man to his chest. The stouter, darker one faced Townsend and pulled his legs off the floor with strong hands under his hips. Townsend moaned and threw his head back against the shoulder of the younger Colombian, as the dark one lifted his hips and forced his hole down on the younger one's upward-curved, engorged cock. Townsend writhed and struggled as he was being set down on the long, throbbing cock, but his efforts only served to ensure he was skewered to the deep. He really cried out and began to grunt and groan as the darker one spread his legs with his own beefy thighs and crouched under his pelvis and started to enter his hole with a thick cock running up alongside the younger Colombian's thinner cock. The darker Colombian kept a firm grip on Townsend's thighs as the two double fucked the American executive, while the younger Colombian reached down between Townsend's and the other Colombian's bellies and fisted Townsend's cock and began stroking it in rhythm with the counter pistoning of the two cocks inside Townsend. All three, otherwise silent with intense strain, were huffing and puffing and moaning and groaning at the exertion of the taking. Townsend came first, and the two Colombians came a short time later. The American executive collapsed in a fully taken heap between the two hooded men as they pulled out of him and released their hold on him. After a brief pause of regaining their breath, the two took him up again as if by prearranged agreement of a plan, the stouter man carrying his legs and leading and the younger man holding him by the armpits. The two hooded Colombians carried Townsend through the living room and into a narrow, terrazzo-floored room forming an L on the terrace with the living room. This room, probably originally part of the terrace, had a full glass wall looking out on the terrace and the side of the swimming pool and was furnished with expensive workout equipment, a tribute to Townsend's good shape. Moving Townsend over to a massage table, they pushed him down on the edge of the table's end, his feet on the floor and his chest on the surface of the table. The younger of the two held a totally exhausted and sore Townsend down on the table with one fist in the small of his back and the other hand gripping the back of his neck, while the darker Colombian roamed around the room and found lengths of nylon roping. Minutes later, Townsend's legs were spread and tied to legs of the table at his ankles and hips, and his wrists were tied to where the middle legs of the massage table frame met the top of the table. Leaving Townsend there to moan and contemplate his possible fate, the two Colombians retreated to the kitchen and raided the refrigerator for beer and whatever they could find to eat to replenish the rough work they'd done—and to prepare for the rough work still ahead of them. After they'd eaten and taken a piss and drank off another beer, they reentered the exercise room. They stood in full view of Townsend, and he trembled as they both rolled on condoms once more. The younger one with the long, thin cock fucked him first. He just walked up behind Townsend and between his legs and thrust his cock deep inside Townsend's now-gaping hole and stroked hard and deep and fast. He reached up and buried a fist in Townsend's hair and arched the American's back toward him as far as the stretched arms and tied wrist would permit. He used his other hand to slap Townsend on the butt cheek and flank while he fucked him in a virile, relentless, long- fast-stroked taking. Townsend cried out at the taking and the young Colombian seemed to enjoy that and responded to every moan with a harder thrust that produced a louder groan. When the younger Colombian finished with Townsend, he slapped him hard on the rump and untied the American's bonds. Townsend started to straighten up, but there was no time. The two Colombians were forcing him up on the massage table on his knees and his chest and cheek were being forced down on the surface of the table. The stouter, darker Colombian was hopping up on the table, crouching over Townsend, his thighs encasing the American's hips, and he was working his thick cock inside Townsend and fucking him doggy style. The Colombian had his arms encircling Townsend's chest, covering him close, and he was gnawing on Townsend's ear as he fucked him. This one was a whole new trial for Townsend. The second Colombian's dick was stubbier, but it was very, very thick, and he had a rotating motion he set it too that made Townsend feel all the more stuffed. After several minutes in this position, the Colombian went down on his knees behind Townsend and pulled the American up and back onto his chest and lap. He was able to gain greater depth this way. Townsend was utterly exhausted, wondering what came next. As he felt the darker Colombian reaching his climax, Townsend looked over and saw the younger one pulled on another condom. Townsend shuddered in recognition of what came next. In short order Townsend was turned on his back on the massage table, his legs spread up and out, and the younger Colombian stroking hard and deep inside him again for the last fucking. After younger, fast-rising Colombian was done, Townsend was dragged between the two still-hooded men down the hallway and toward the back of the apartment. Inside the guestroom door, they pushed him to the floor and stood over him, fingering the handles of the knives strapped to their thighs and looking intently at him, ready for what came next. Townsend looked up at them and spoke, in a hoarse whisper for the first time since the two had invaded his apartment. "Next Tuesday, same time? Three?" "Could we make it five?" the stouter of the two Colombians asked. "I'm getting my truck detailed that day." "Sure, five is fine," Townsend said in a hoarse whisper. "You'll find envelopes with your fee in it on the credenza in the front foyer. Please leave by the service entrance." Tuesday Came Carrie and Beth had been friends for years. They met through work and even though they didn't work together anymore they had stayed pretty good friends with a lot in common. They both got married, for the wrong reasons, and both had been unfaithful because they were so miserable. This common misery had brought them closer. There wasn't any one else in their lives that they felt they could confide in about the situation they found themselves in. The affair that Carrie was having had been with a man that Beth also knew. He was an attractive gentleman who had worked with the two girls at one time. Beth was taken back when Carrie told her who she had been seeing. It also made it easier for the two to chat about what was going on. Strangely, Carrie had mentioned once to Beth that her "friend", Ben, had asked on more than one occasion if Carrie were ever to be with another woman, who would it be? She told him that it would have to be Beth, since she was most comfortable with her, and also thought that Beth would also be into it. Beth was hysterical. "You would be my choice also!" Neither girl had any intention of making such a move on the other, but it was amusing. Every time Carrie and Ben spoke, he would hint about the two girls being together. He came up with plans and outfits the two would wear. He seemed obsess with the idea. Carrie started to get annoyed at the persistent topic. Ben wanted to be there to watch, wanted to know if Carrie could set something up, wanted to know if he could help facilitate such a session. All of this Carrie shared with her friend. Beth found it amusing, and yet felt sort of badly that Ben talked so much about her with Carrie. It started to seem that Ben wanted to be with both girls. The friends had talked about being with each other, but admitted to each other that it wasn't the type of thing that they thought you could plan, that it was something that just sort of happened. Because of the conversation between Ben and Carrie, Beth had started to think more and more about being with a woman. Beth knew she wouldn't stop Carrie, or any other woman for that matter, from going down on her. In fact, maybe a woman would be better. Hey, they had the same parts, how much training would a woman need when it came to pleasuring another woman? But was she willing to go down on and munch on pussy? How could she expect some girl to chow her cunt, and not reciprocate? Carrie asked Beth what she was doing on Tuesday of the next week. "I am off from work, why?" "Well," said Carrie, "Ben and I were trying to get together at our motel, and I was hoping I could say that you and I were going out to lunch and a movie" Beth agreed to be at the movies and asked where they were eating, what they ate, and also asked what time Carrie was meeting Ben. "Probably about 11:30, so don't answer your home phone." Tuesday morning came, and Beth was thinking about Carrie and Ben, romping around the the motel. Then, as if compelled by hunger, Beth decided that she would also go to the motel. She and Carrie had both agreed that if they were going to be with a woman, it would be with the other, and that it couldn't be something they planned. Beth jumped in the shower, shaved every major area including her pussy. If the opportunity to have a woman eat her snatch, she was going to make damn sure that it was enjoyable. By the time she finished, she was sure anyone would enjoy the meal she prepared. She painted her toes, smoothed lotion on every inch of her body and started to get dressed. She put on her sexiest bra and matching panties, pulled on some thigh high stockings, funky ones, like fishnet but the holes were really big. She dug threw her closet and found some 5 inch high heels that had never seen the sidewalk and that she never actually needed to walk in. Time was running out...she had to leave in order to see what room her friends were going to be in. She couldn't decided what to wear over this ensemble. "What the hell, she thought, "if I am going to go through with this, why not go all?" Without bothering to put any other clothing on, she pulled her long overcoat from the closet, grabbed her keys and headed for the door. Beth pulled into the parking lot of the motel. She didn't see either car there yet. She knew that Carrie would be cautious, but she wouldn't be looking for Beth's car. She pulled to the end of the lot and waited. She was already so turned on by the clothes and the idea of what she intended to do that her pussy was moist with anticipation. She moved in her seat, and as she did, her toe poked out of one of the big holes in her stockings. Not very attractive and also not very comfortable, she leaned forward to straighten things out. As she was sitting back up, she heard laughter, and looked in her rearview mirror. Beth had missed them come in, and now they were entering the room directly behind her car. She couldn't have planned it any better if she had tried. Beth wanted to rush in there right now, but knew she should give them a few minutes to settle in. A million things ran threw her head. What if Carrie wasn't receptive to her intrusion? What would she say when she got to the door? Maybe she should leave. Somehow she got the idea that she would just say nothing. She would just go to the door, and when it opened she would be silent. She would let her actions speak for her. After about fifteen minutes, Beth opened her car door. She was thankful that the room they were in was right behind her, she didn't think she would have been able to walk far because, one, her legs were shaking, and second, these shoes were so high heeled. She stood in front of the door for what seemed to be ten minutes. Finally, Beth raised her fist, and knocked. A voice inside asked who it was. She didn't answer. There was a noise inside, and Beth heard foot steps. She was sure that the two were panicking. It must have been Carrie who walked to the door and checked through the peep hole. The door swung open. "BETH...what are you..." But Beth didn't give Carrie time to finish. She pushed her inside the room and closed the door. Carrie's clothes had been thrown on, it was obvious. Beth grabbed Carrie by the shoulders and began to kiss her lightly on the neck, following the curve of her jaw and landing on her mouth. Carrie responded better than she could have expected. Carrie's hands found the belt that was holding Beth's coat closed and untied it. She slipped her hands inside and touched Beth's skin. It was electric. Carrie moved up passed her breasts and started to push Beth's coat off. "Jesus...." Ben said as he stuck his head out of the bathroom. The two girls pulled close to each other and giggled at his comment. It didn't stop Carrie from touching Beth's body. Beth was so pumped up from waiting for this moment that she wasn't even paying attention to Ben. She bent down in front of Carrie, and slip her hands underneath her shirt, and slid it up over her head. Carrie's breast hung out, jiggling slightly as Beth stood. Beth put her hands around them, and brought her mouth close. Carrie's nipples were standing out, calling out to Beth. Beth used the tip of her tongue to trace around the tight disks that held the nipples at attention. Carrie gasped at the heat from Beth's breath. First one, then the other breast. Beth began to suck on her friend's nipples. They felt amazing in her mouth. She grabbed them between her teeth and pulled on them slightly. "Oh, Beth..." was all Carrie could find to say. "Yeah, Beth, oh, Beth.." Ben chimed in. He had sat himself on one the the two beds in the room. He had his hard cock in his hand, stoking if slowly. Both women shot him a look, as if to tell him to shut up. "Sorry, sorry...I'll be quiet..." By this time, Beth's overcoat was falling off her body. She pushed Carrie back so that she could remove her coat completely. Carrie stepped back and bumped into the bed directly behind her. Beth realized that Carrie had never really buttoned up her jeans. She walked close to Carrie and tugged on her jeans, pulling them down, past Carrie's hips, letting them fall to her ankles. Beth eased her nearly naked friend on to the bed. Carrie sank back and Beth knelt down in front of her, helping her free her from her jeans. Carrie was working it now. She lifted up her leg as it came free of the denim. Beth caught her ankle and placed it down, far from the other. Now, before her was another woman's pussy. It was beautiful, cleanly shaven, glistening with excitement. All doubts that Beth had about being able to go down on a woman disappeared. Beth ran her fingers up Carrie's thigh, then leaned forward so her tongue could follow the trail of her hand. She could smell the scent of the woman before her. Her mouth started to water. As if she could feel the pleasure she was about to give, Beth began to moan. She tickled Carrie's other thigh with her hand and placed a hand on either side of snatch that was now inches from her face. Using her thumbs, she spread open her lips, exposing the velvety pink moistness underneath. Beth ran her tongue along the left, then the right, teasing Carrie just the way she thought she would want to be teased. The taste of her friend's pussy was amazing. Beth could feel the heat radiating from it. "You want more?" she thought. It was as if Carrie could hear her. "Don't fuckin' tease me....you are driving me crazy!" And with that Beth touched Carrie's clit with the tip of her tongue. That only lasted a moment and then she placed her mouth over the clit and began to suck it and tongue it. The ice had melted and Beth was going to town. She slide her fingers deep inside that wet cunt, reaching deep inside, digging for the spot she knew drove her crazy. Carrie screamed with pleasure and pulled her legs up, reached down and held her own pussy open so Beth could use both hands to probe her insides. By this time, Ben was standing over the two girls and still stroking his rock hard rail spike. Carrie opened her eyes and looked at Ben's hard cock, dripping with excitement. "Give that to me..." she said as she reached for his cock. He climbed onto the bed, placed a knee on either side of Carrie's head and slide his dick in her mouth. As Beth munched Carrie's pussy like a hungry wolf, Ben pumped Carrie's mouth, sliding his cock further into her throat. Carrie was still trying to spread her cunt open for her friend to lick, but her pussy was gushing with lube. Her hands were covered in her own juice, slipping from her grip. Carrie let go of her pussy and grabbed Ben's ass and pulled it closer to her, forcing his cock deeper. Ben leaned forward, and moved Beth's hair out of the way, so he could watch the show. He wasn't sure what was better, the blow job he was getting or the tongue lashing his girlfriend was getting. What he did know was that he was about to coat Carrie's throat with his cum. Ben climbed down, removing his swollen rod from Carrie's mouth and walked behind Beth. He grabbed her, pulled her away from Carrie's pussy and stood her up. He began to bend her over so he could slip his cock into Beth, but Beth moved away. Beth wasn't about to let her friend's man fuck her. Carrie saw this and decided to help. She stood up and pushed Beth down onto the bed. Beth was so turned on from licking pussy that she was afraid that the moment Carrie touched her that she could cum. Carrie laid on Beth and started to grind her pussy onto her. The two girls juices mixed. Beth was surprised at how good it felt to have a woman on her. Carrie kissed Beth's neck, massaged her tits, and pulled the bra away so that she could wrap her lips around Beth's hard nipples. Ben took advantage of the position of the two women and slid his fingers into one pussy, then the other. It was hot and soaking wet. He used one finger, then two, then three, watching as Carrie arched her back to help give Ben better penetration. He removed one finger, and used it to massage her tight ass hole. Relatively easily, he buried a finger in her ass. Carrie moved down Beth's body, and Ben lost contact with Beth's pussy. In moments, Carrie's fingers replaced Ben's and she began to do what had just been done to her, almost exactly what Beth had hoped for. Then, in some weird simon says type sex game, everything Ben was doing to Carrie, she was doing to Beth. Beth raised her legs up and reached down around her ass and pulled her thighs and ass apart so Carrie could really get in there. Carrie was sucking Beth's clit, using one hand to pull back the hood and spread her lips, and the other to finger both her pussy and her ass. Ben knew this fantasy wouldn't last much longer. Although her had no idea how close to cumming Beth might be, his past experience with Carrie signaled him that she was hanging on the edge of ecstasy. He nudged at Carrie, hinting her to move closer to the bed. The three repositioned themselves. Beth moved further on the bed, Carrie kneeled on the edge and Ben stood at the end of Carrie and watched as his cock disappeared inside Carrie's wet hole. His dick was so hard, Carrie stopped what she was doing and screamed with joy. "Oh god, Ben...just fuck my pussy while I lick this one..." And then she buried her face in Beth's snatch. Ben grabbed Beth's ankles, Beth grabbed Carrie's hair, Carrie grabbed Beth's thighs and like a machine the three used each other to balance the thrusting of the other. Beth was the first to go. She pulled at Carrie's hair, lifted her head up off the bed to watch the final seconds before she released her orgasm. As she came, she locked eyes with Ben, and then watched as his eyes started to roll up into his head. He pulled out his cock and began to shoot his hot jiz on Carrie's back. He came with such force that it shot over his girlfriend's shoulder and landed on Beth's stomach. Beth let Carrie loose from the death grip she had her hair in and Ben stood Carrie up and laid her on the bed next to Beth. Beth leaned over on her side and took Carrie's breast in her mouth as Ben bent down between her thighs and ate her pussy. In no time, it was Carrie's turn to grab fists full of hair, one fist full of Ben's dark hair, one of Beth's long hair. The threesome was exhausted. They all napped right where they lay. Beth pulled away from the other two and quietly cleaned up in the bathroom. She picked up her coat, which was still laying on the floor and put it on. As she tied the belt around her, she looked over and saw that Carrie had opened her eyes. Keeping with her idea of not saying anything, Beth merely looked at Carrie and mouthed "Thank you" and closed the door behind her. As Beth drove home, a thousand thoughts sped through her mind, but only one stuck. Maybe next time, they would leave Ben out of it.