6 comments/ 60914 views/ 30 favorites Zipper By: fix23 It had been a busy month for my mother as she had busily planned my 18th birthday. She wanted to make sure it was a birthday to remember because becoming 18 was so special she would say. Mum said that every year mind you regardless of the number I was turning. I was the only man in her life and had been for some years now. The life of a solo mum had made her fuss over me something chronic. It was a tad embarrassing especially at Christmas in front of the extended family where uncles and aunties would lecture mum telling her to stop making such a fuss about me. Their interfering words usually pissed me off but secretly I did agree with them. Mum and my father had split up when I was less than a year old. Mum likes to tell me the story any time she has an intimate night on the couch with a bottle or three of cheap fizzy wine. I guess we all have our vices. "I was 28 when I met your father and gosh I was something but he was only 19," is how it always starts before it quickly comes to the "I should have known better." Apparently mum had decided to go back to uni in an attempt to try and finish her arts degree. She had always wanted to be an art history or classical studies teacher. Our lounge walls are testimony to this dream. Abstract art clings to the walls making a somewhat hideous mosaic. About six months into her degree she met a handsome young guy at a party called Damon, my father. Damon was new in town. He was full of life and big dreams that caught my mum's interest and made her want to join him for the ride. They began a whirlwind romance which fell short of either of their dreams and led them down the road of an unplanned pregnancy. This harsh dose of reality caused both of them to drop out of university before the year ended. I'm sure my mum would've liked to of named me dream crusher had she not taken to motherhood like a meth addict to a light bulb. They both moved back to mum's hometown to try and rebuild their dreams around me their unexpected bundle of joy. Well sure enough with Dad only just penetrating his 20s he quickly grew bored of the nesting lifestyle and flew back to the city lifestyle leaving me and mum behind. To be honest I don't think it was the wrong move because they are such different people I don't think they would have really been able to make it work so maybe my father's yearning for freedom did them both a favour. Anyway my birthday had stressed mum out as she busily tried arranging the perfect party for me. Eventually her stressing led to me stressing about her stressing. I told mum she needed to chill out. For once in her life she actually listened and let me have the laid back birthday I was after. So I threw a party at my grandparent's farm where we had a huge bonfire and booze galore. I'd invited a bunch of mates and my girlfriend. Well sort of girlfriend. We had been dating for nearly two years but it wasn't all that serious. We mostly would go to the movies together and just hang out in town. If anything we were each other's reliable plus one to any parties. Our sex life was non-existent and neither of us seemed ready at the same time to push the other past the PG rated classification we had sadly become. One time when mum was at work and we had the house to ourselves we got a little heated. Tess had let me feel up her perky tits and guided my hand down inside her knickers and I slipped two fingers inside her. I know Tess had wanted it to go further by the way she had reached down at the elastic of my pants but I would strategically move to angles to stop her hand unleashing my only semi erect cock from my pants. Tess was a cool chick and I really liked her but I wasn't sure if I wanted her touching my penis. It just felt wrong. We had become such good friends that whenever we even held hands it just felt weird to me. That's what I told myself anyway. I had become quite good at keeping the real reason to the back of my mind. Truth is I had my sights on one certain person, and that person was most certainly not my girlfriend. Admittedly for the first year of dating Tess I was holding out desperately for her to let me fuck her, but I had lost interest when my feelings became redirected. As much as I wanted to lose the big V that hung heavy round my neck I was stupidly holding out for this someone in particular. That someone was Dane, my best mate. He was who I wanted lying on my bed with me curling his fingers around my dick. Fingering Tess was as much sex experience I had, I knew at 18 I should have long before popped my cherry but sadly it was a milestone I hadn't yet reached. Dane had fucked a few different chicks now and he was always working on his next conquest. He was more than happy to go into intimate details about his sex life, so I was well aware about how experienced he was. Dane liked to remind me of my virgin status and it did piss me off at times but I I tried not to let him get to me. I knew I had the answer dating me in the form of a pretty blonde, who with enough persuasion probably would sleep with me but my fixation on Dane held me back. I envied his confidence and the attention he got from girls at parties. It was hard not to notice Dane. He was tall with broad shoulders and had spiky brown hair that sat perfectly atop his handsome face. I shouldn't complain cause I'm not exactly ugly and do get my own fair share of attention. At 5 foot 11 I'm nearly as tall as Dane but my physique is slimmer than his muscular toned body. My scruffy blonde hair gives the false impression I'm a hard-core surfer type but I fucking hate the sea. Everyone I know would be shocked to find out I'm gay, bi or whatever the fuck it is I am. I'm still working that part out. My bedroom walls covered in FHM models and juiced up cars throws off the mere hint I would want to see Dane naked. Although Dane and I have been friends since we were 13 it was only six months ago that to my horror I discovered this new dimension to my nature. Since then the thought of putting my cock inside his arse turns me on something crazy. I'd never thought about guys in that way before at all. I wasn't one of these fuckwits who made a point out of being grossed out about such stuff but truth is id never really given it much thought. The strange thing is it all changed with a sound. Yes that's right, some random barely audible noise that made me prick up my ears and lured my eyes to follow suit. It was a Saturday night and we had been drinking at my house and were too pissed to drive so we decided to stumble into town along the foreshore. The local rugby team had had a home match which meant the clubs were going to go off. Along the way Dane was busy telling me in great detail about how he had fucked Amy Brown at a party the night before. He liked to share his intimate details with me I think partly cause we're mates but also he liked to remind me of my virgin status. I tried not to let him get to me. I knew I had the answer dating me in the form of a pretty blonde, who with enough persuasion probably would sleep with me but this Dane fixation kept holding me back. "Fuck yea man we had nowhere to go so we just used the bathroom and I did her doggy over the bath tub." I listened with jealousy and awe to his latest sexual conquest. "Yea it was a good position bro cause I could see my cock sliding in and out." Dane told the story very animated and emphasised the word cock. "When you finally get round to doing the deed I definitely recommend doing Tess doggy bro." "Ya reckon," I muttered. "Yea but by the time you two do it she'll be so bloody old she might break a fucking hip bending over," Dane teased. I grinned at his playful jab and punched him on the shoulder kiddingly. Dane laughed as he rubbed his shoulder where I had hit him. Then all of a sudden he declared he needed to take a piss. Dane veered a few feet off the walkway to some flax bushes that granted him some privacy for his impromptu toilet stop. I stood waiting looking out to the sea. The full yellow moon hanging in the sky lit up the ocean and made the night less dark than it normally would be. Then it happened. The noise that turned a switch on inside of me I never knew existed. The sound of Dane pulling down his zip pierced my attention. Suddenly I felt a need to catch a peek at this magic cock that had fucked Amy Brown just 12 hours earlier. I discretely shuffled forward so that I could be within view of Dane's dick. I glanced sideways and could see his hand reaching into the hole of his jeans and fumbling slightly before his hand pulled out his limp white dick. It was a good size, bigger than mine when soft anyway. He stood there looking down at his feet not saying anything, nothing happened for a moment then I saw his body lean forward and Dane emitted a great 'ahhhh' of relief and with that I saw the first short sharp stream of piss erupt from his dick. After a couple more short bursts his piss began coming out in a steady hard stream. I continued to watch discretely as I listened to it splatter on the ground below him. As he finished he shook his cock free of any drips then turned facing me directly as he tucked it away giving me a good full frontal view before it was hidden back inside his briefs and zipped up. He could see I was looking but didn't say a word and together we continued into town. After seeing Dane's dick it sent me on strange path of confusion. That night I had gone home and jumped straight into the shower so I could be naked and stroke my cock as I thought about Dane taking his piss and I fantasised about what it would feel like to kiss it for him after he was finished. I got so turned on by the thought that eventually I ejaculated furiously against the shower curtain. Instantly a feeling of guilt and shame flowed through my body. I didn't wank for the next three days worried I would again think about Dane and his dick. Eventually my curiosity about Dane's cock won and I again began beating off fantasising about him and more than just kissing his moist cock tip. I began imagining how it would feel in my mouth and how big it would get when fully hard. Would he like it? Would he let me give him a massage if I offered? I wanted any excuse to just touch him. I wanted to know how his cum would feel in my mouth, what would it taste like. One night while wanking in bed in desperate search of an answer to the cum taste question, I spoofed into my hand and then licked my own spunk to see what it tasted like. Fucking strange is how, not yuck, not nice just different. I thought maybe Dane would taste better especially if I hadn't myself already busted a nut. Anyway I had never got the courage to make a move on these carnal feelings towards my best mate so I was still none the wiser how another man's cock would feel in my mouth. I last saw Dane the night of my party. It had started all good with me, Tess, Dane and my other mates all hitting the piss. The good thing about having it at my grandparent's farm was we could be as noisy as we liked with no nearby neighbours to worry. The more I drunk the more I began to think about Dane's taunts of my non-existent sex life. After a few bourbons in my belly I was full of bravado and heightened hormones. I made the executive decision that tonight was the night I would lose my virginity. I knew Tess would go for it if I asked so I sat drinking waiting confidently for the right moment to pop the question. At least it would stop Dane's teasing. Crazy thoughts ran through my head like how I could tell Dane all about my cock's adventures, maybe then he would become fixated on my dick like I was with his. We were all seated around a roaring bonfire and began playing the drinking game 'I have never'. It was a good laugh watching each other get hammered admitting their devious antics. Because Dane was the most devious of us he was constantly swigging back on his bottle. In a show of public affection I had my arm wrapped round Tess pulling her in close constantly to make out. Tess's perfume invaded my nostrils as she nuzzled into me and whispered something in my ear about having a surprise for me. For once in our lives we were on the same page. My cock had twitched in my pants knowing that it was finally going to happen, I could tell in her voice what she meant, and we would finally do it. I sat there feeling chuffed with myself that I would finally become a man in only a few hours. Just as I began thinking this was my best birthday ever an unexpected guest could be seen walking down the hill to join us at the bonfire. It was my father. I knew mum was up at the farm house with my aunts and uncles but I had no idea this pathetic excuse of a parent had been invited. It turned out that mum thought it would be a nice surprise to have Damon turn up for my party. Even though the man irritates her beyond measure she somehow ignores the fact that he has the very same effect on me. My mother seems to think I need to make more of an effort with my father. After years of being constantly let down by this absent figure id given up on him quite some time ago. At 37 he was younger than any of my friend's dads and he sure as hell acted like it. I've always called him Damon never dad or anything like that, just Damon. I know this annoys him because he sees it as me refusing to acknowledge our genetic connection, but in my mind you earn the title not instantly granted it. Although mum was one of the most highly strung people I know and could be an unreasonable bitch I knew she was there for me and loved me. The same can't be said for Damon and his hot mess of a life going from job to job woman to woman. He would come to town to see me once a year usually for my birthday but this year I had hoped mum would have told him not to bother. Apparently not cause here he was stumbling down the paddock hill towards me and my mates. The yearly visit usually incorporates one week spent in town where he goes out with mates hitting the piss and barely sees me. This disinterest in me over the years has bred a severe dislike in me towards the man. Don't get me wrong he has his good points. He is stupidly generous whenever he is around and has been a convenient supplier of alcohol and weed during his brief visits. It's not that Damon's a bad person, he's just a fuckwit. "Happy Birthday Keegan." I cringed at the sound of him calling my name. "Hey Damon," I threw back. "Figured I better come see the birthday boy. ...Fuck you're getting tall buddy." I grunted in acknowledgement of my supposed growth spurt. Damon sat down on a log next to Tess and me. It didn't take him long to get involved in the drinking games and basically taking over the conversation. My friends didn't seem to mind and lapped up Damon's stories about life in the city and the different crazy ex-girlfriends he had been lucky enough to escape from. As he kept on with his lame arse tales it slowly drove me insane. "Fucking moron," I muttered under my breath. Tess jabbed me in the arm. "He's alright, don't be so mean," she hushed before turning back around and giving him her undivided attention. My mates seemed enamoured by him and laughed at all his jokes. One after the other they would begin saying shit along the lines of how lucky I was to have a dad like Damon, or how they wished their parents were as cool as mine. All of which Damon lapped up like a dog in its dinner bowl. Dane knew how I felt about Damon and never offered up praise and that was some solace to my embarrassment. Just before I didn't think my father could get any worse with his drinking stories, sex tales or arsehole boss yarns his hand went wandering into his jacket pocket end emerged with some tiny pills. "So guys who here wants some, I figured it's your 18th Keegan so we should celebrate in style." He counted them in the palm of his hand. "Just don't tell your mother," he warned. "Oh my god, are those e's?" Tess squealed in delight. "Yep. Here you go son, happy birthday." Damon handed me one of the pills. I took the tab not wanting to look pussy in front of my friends and pretended to place it in my mouth while secretly dropping it to the ground in silent rebellion as they all cheered and sung me happy birthday. Then Damon gave Tess and two of my other mates who had paid him the most attention a tab each before he downed the last one on his own. Tess spent the rest of the night hanging on Damon's every word and she never again mentioned what the surprise was she was going to give me. About 10 pm I noticed she and my father had disappeared so I figured Damon was getting my birthday surprise on behalf of me. This was typical Damon behaviour. Hooking up with another guy's girlfriend wasn't exactly unchartered territory for him but the fact it was Tess, my Tess, was a new low even for him. I was so drunk by this stage I couldn't go find them even if I wanted to, so I stumbled over towards Dane who was laid out on the ground repeating how his head was spinning. I collapsed down beside him asking how he was. "Fucking ill man, "he laughed before he closed his eyes and looked like he was about to coma. I waited a few minutes in silence before I sat up a bit and touched his knee through his grey Levis. "Are you alright mate?" No response. So I raised my hand and gripped his thigh through the denim material and asked again "are you alright mate?" Still no response, he was well and truly out to it. I put my hand just above his belt and delicately slipped it under his t shirt till I felt his warm flesh. Right at that moment a noise behind me caught me by surprise. I spun round heart jumping nearly into my mouth. It was Amy Brown. "Hey Keegan," she slurred. Obviously she too was a bit worse for wear. As she got closer she could see the incapacitated Dane. "Oh my god is that Dane...he looks hammered as!" The words stumbled out her mouth. "Yea he's pretty fucked aye" I replied. She came and scooted over beside me. "Leave him with me babe I'll take care of him" and with that she nudged me out of the way and bent down whispering to Dane how she was going to take good care of him. Dane mumbled my name faintly making me not wanting to leave. "No silly it's Amy. Keegan's going inside," Amy cooed in his ear before flashing me a look that said 'please leave'. I stood up and walked off trying my best to hide my anger towards the silly bitch for ruining my one and only shot of having my way with Dane. After that I somehow meandered my way back up to the farm house where I fell asleep on the couch rueing my failed chance for any action of the evening. Since then I had only spoken to Dane on the phone and listened to him tell me about how he had a mean as night even though he couldn't remember fuck all. He vaguely recalled the bonfire and after that he didn't remember a thing till he woke up naked next to Amy in the back seat of his car. He asked if I had had a good night and got laid. I told him the usual that yea it was good and that me and Tess still hadn't done it. He had genuine sympathy in his voice as if I had lost a limb. "Oh that sucks bro, fuck I was sure she was gonna let you tap her." "Yea," I sighed in agreeance. I decided against telling Dane about what Damon had done, for fear of being even more humiliated. Although I hadn't witnessed it I just knew him and Tess had fucked. I could feel it in my bones. It had been nearly a week since my party and I was still livid with Damon. Now I was busy packing for two days of hell, a father and son camping trip. I had wanted Dane to come with me but dad had insisted it just be me and him so we could have a lads bonding weekend or some shit. Surely the fact Dane had a cock he would classify as a lad, but nope it was to just be a family affair. So yes the thought of a weekend camping with my father who takes drugs and drinks more than any of my mates wasn't a recipe for fun in my books. I had begged mum to cancel it for me but she insisted I go because he was so excited to see me and was genuinely trying to make an effort. Perhaps it was in reaction to the past two years of noticeable disdain from me, or was it a last minute guilt trip from what he had done with Tess that was the real reason for this sudden interest in me. Damon only wants what he can't have and he could sense I didn't want him in my life. He is desperate to be liked by others, even if he offers no sense of real loyalty in return. Zipper Sex "It's your turn, Cheryl," Jill said, turning to me with a devilish grin. Amy and Lisa looked on with anticipation. Lisa already had a serious case of bedroom eyes. I looked into my wine glass and took a sip, keeping my eyes down. I could feel myself blushing. "Come on," Jill cajoled, "we've all done ours!" I took a deep breath. "OK, but this has to stay in this room," I said.* "This stuff better fuckin' stay in this room after what I just told you!" Amy snorted. "In this room," Jill agreed, "And maybe on spring break!" she winked. I could feel myself blush again. "OK," I began, taking another sip, "Do any of you know what zipper sex is?" "Isn't that like sex with a total stranger or something?" Jill volunteered. Amy's eyes bugged out at the idea. "Yeah, its something like that. I'm not really sure what the real definition is," I continued. "You want to do it with a stranger?" Lisa asked. "Hush, let Cheryl tell it at her own pace," Jill said. I took another deep breath. "OK, so here is what happened. Do you remember that girl in my quad, Tina?" "Yeah, she went to France?" "Yeah, well she and I were hanging out for awhile. One night we were drinking a little, and she told me that her fantasy was to have some guy that she didn't know walk into her room and do it with her. She admitted that it would have to be carefully arranged so she wouldn't try to kill the guy, but she thought it would be super hot. I found myself agreeing to set it up for her." I paused to collect my thoughts. "The next evening we hung out again. I was sure those ideas were just drunk talk, but later that night just before she left, she brought it up again. Our other two quad mates would be gone the weekend after next, and she thought that would be the perfect time to do it. I didn't know what to think. I really didn't have anyone in mind, but she clearly expected me to produce someone. I consented to give it the 'old college try'. I thought about it a little and then forgot about it. The very next day I had it—the guy should be from another school so things wouldn't get too weird—and I knew just the guy. "My ex went to a university in the next state. While hanging out with him, I had become acquainted with one of his buddies, a nice and handsome guy named Brett. I don't know why I settled on him, but he seemed like a good fit for Tina's stranger. I called him up. I introduced myself, and he seemed to remember me." I giggled as I recalled the phone conversation. "So I say to him, 'Do you wanna get laid?'" Jill laughed out loud. "Yah," she said mockingly, "he's a guy." "That was pretty much Brett's reply too," I laughed. "Anyway, I broke his heart and told him it wasn't me he was going to get with, but he still had to keep it absolutely secret. He asked if it was a really ugly girl. 'Does it matter?' I replied. He hemmed a little before I told him she was pretty good looking. I also told him he would get a chance to see her beforehand and that he had to find his own place to stay. Naturally, he agreed. I asked some probing questions to make sure he hadn't put on like a hundred pounds or gone granola on me, but he seemed to be the cute guy I remembered. I gave him my number and told him to call from the interstate when he got to town so we could work out a rendezvous. I was tingling when I hung up the phone. I didn't want to tell Tina in case it fell through, but she pried it out of me. I decided to tease her and told her not to masturbate at all before the big night. Apparently she followed my suggestion, and as the big night approached she whined to me about how worked up she was. 'You'll get your release soon enough,' I told her." I looked around the room. I had their complete attention. "Lisa, you're drooling." Lisa quickly wiped her mouth without blinking, and I continued. "The day arrived and my phone rang at 10am. Brett must have been pretty eager to get here that early. I arranged to meet him at a diner near the highway. I had been expecting his call, but I was practically trembling with excitement as I hung up the phone. Even though this episode wasn't for me, I still had a knot in my stomach. He was already seated when I arrived. We spent the first few minutes in idle chit-chat, the unspoken reason of his being here hanging over our conversation like a Damoclean Sword." I could tell Lisa had no idea what that meant. I guess I had spent too much time as an English Lit major. I continued. "The waitress took our order and left us alone. I laid out the situation for him. I told him I would be going to lunch with Tina, the girl he was here for, so he would have a chance to see her. If he still was game, I'd meet him in the student union to finalize the event. He couldn't be seen with me, nor could he stick around afterwards. He seemed ready to go. We finished our coffees and left. "We drove to the housing area where I positioned him in the stairwell of an adjoining complex. I knew he would have a good look at her as we were passing by to lunch, and I was sure he wouldn't be disappointed. On the way back from lunch I did a double take as I saw Brett walking up the path to us. He casually strolled by, taking a good look at Tina. She didn't seem to notice. I left her and went to the student union to meet Brett. I made sure I wasn't being followed. Brett acknowledged that Tina was attractive, and he was ready to 'do his duty.' I told him to be at my door at exactly 10:30 that night, and we would get things started. He was grinning like a Cheshire cat. "Tina and I went to dinner, and I could tell she was really nervous and excited. I played coy, saying I wasn't really sure what time he would arrive. I sat with her as she brushed her teeth at 9:00 like she always does. She went to bed to wait, and I returned to my room. I figured that she would be waiting for nearly 2 hours before her stranger showed up, plenty of time to get her hot and bothered. I was really worked up also, staring at the clock as it moved agonizingly slowly. At 10:29 I opened my door a sliver. A moment later Brett arrived. I quickly brought him in and closed the door. He was wearing gym shorts and a tee, easy on and off. I looked him over and produced some cologne for him. I knew what scent Tina liked. He said this was the craziest thing he had ever done. I could imagine Tina, lying alone in her bed, waiting for her mystery lover to enter. I explained to Brett that my room and Tina's were laid out in opposite fashion on either side of the shared bathroom. I turned off the lights and put on a night light so we could see a little and wait until our eyes adjusted to the darkness. I stood him by the bathroom door and made him walk to my bed without the lights on so that he would get a feel for his entrance. He left his wallet and keys in my room as he prepared, planning to exit through my room at the end of his experience. I asked Brett one last time if he was ready and then led him into the dark bathroom. I shut off the night light in the bathroom so that Tina wouldn't even see his silhouette. 'Go get her, tiger,' I whispered, and he opened her door and disappeared into the darkness. The door closed behind him, and I couldn't resist pressing my ear against it to listen to the events. Before I could hear anything, the damn air conditioning system kicked on. I knew I wouldn't be able to hear over that, so I returned to my room and got ready for bed. Who knew how long this encounter would last. "Try as I might, I couldn't get the thoughts of what was going on just next door out of my head. Tina had hooked up before, of course, but this was totally different for me. Further there was the practical matter of Brett returning to my room when finished, who knew how long he would last? I lit a few candles and put on my sleep music. I put on my flannel night shirt and laid in bed, staring up into the darkness. I started to touch myself. I heard the air conditioner stop and I looked over to the door—if I went in the bathroom I could probably hear something, but I refused to be a voyeur. Then I wondered if I had brushed my teeth—and that was all the excuse I needed." I paused for a moment, allowing Lisa and Amy to catch their breaths, and smiled at the memory of what had happened, taking another sip of my wine before continuing. "I grabbed my toothbrush and padded silently into the bathroom. I left my door open for a little light since the night-light was still off in the bathroom. I could hear someone moaning, it sounded like Brett. I suppressed a giggle, ran a trickle of water and started softly brushing my teeth. I could hear them having a good time, and it was making me hot. My mind raced, envisioning the two of them in bed. I noticed it got quiet, but I was too distracted to make the connection. Suddenly, Tina's door opened, and she walked into the bathroom, nude. We both squeaked in surprise. She closed the door and bent over the sink and spat before rinsing with mouthwash. I knew immediately what had happened, but it didn't revolt me—I stared at the sink realizing his cum was being washed down." "Sorry, I didn't expect to find you here!" Tina said, disappearing into the bathroom stall. "I had to brush my teeth," I offered, blushing furiously, hoping she wouldn't think I was listening to them. I continued to brush my teeth. "Tina emerged and washed her hands." "He's a stud, Cheryl!" she beamed, "You did great! I'm going to try and get one more out of him—then he'll be totally spent. I'll fuck him dry!" "I grunted a reply as she re-entered her room. For some reason I didn't like her last comment—like she was going to drain the life from Brett. I was jealous. Brett was better than that. I quickly finished my brushing and returned to my room. It was about 12:30. I fell into a fitful sleep until a soft knock on the bathroom door woke me at 1:30. I let Brett in, turning on a light. We both blinked at the brightness. Brett collapsed in my chair, looking contented. 'I'm spent!' he said happily. I let him recover for a little while and saw him out at around 2:00. Tina was very happy with the whole thing, and I must admit, it does seem pretty erotic—making love to an unseen stranger. And that's it," I finished. "Wow," Lisa finally said. "My life is way too dull." "Wow," Amy agreed. "Pretty sexy, Cheryl," Jill said, "But why do I think this story had a different ending?" I stared into my glass, biting my lower lip to suppress an embarrassed grin. Jill was wicked like that—she could read people like a book and could needle all the gory details out of you. "She's grinning," Amy caught on. There was no going back. "Why? What else happened?" Lisa asked. "Yeah, Cheryl, what else happened? Did you do a three-way?" Jill asked. "No," I snapped back, "Nothing like that." "Then what?" Jill smirked lasciviously. She knew she had trapped me. I smiled and looked away hesitantly. The three girls ganged up on me and pressed me for the details. Finally, I relented. I knew exactly what I wanted to say. I had been dying to tell someone since last semester. "Well, remember how I said I didn't like what Tina had said about fucking Brett dry? I went back to my room and stewed, irritated and aroused. I started to touch myself again. I slipped off my panties but was concerned about Brett coming in, so I lit some incense and tried to fall asleep. I couldn't, just thinking about what was going on there. I continued to touch myself, but was always too worried about Brett returning that I wouldn't go all the way. I slept fitfully, having erotic dreams. Around 1:30, as I was touching myself again, Brett knocked quietly on the bathroom door. I straightened myself out and let him in. Just like I said I turned on a light and we both blinked at the brightness. Brett collapsed into my chair, looking contented. 'I'm spent!' he said happily. 'Really?' I asked. 'Oh, yeah, incredible, I need get to Steve's room and crash.'" I paused again, taking another sip. The three girls were staring at me gape-jawed. "Go on," Jill said breathlessly. I smiled and then stared into the bottom of my glass and started talking again. I was now talking more for me than for them. I could hear the blood rushing in my ears. The words came easily, as I had rehearsed the scene thousands of time in my fantasies since that night. "I turned my back to him. 'You sure?' I asked. 'Yeah,' he replied, stretching out. I slipped my night shirt off my bare shoulder and looked back at him. 'You sure you don't want a night cap?' He stopped and stared at me. I slipped the other shoulder off and looked back at him again. 'Or are you totally spent?' I had his total attention and I even ran my tongue across my lips for him in case my intentions weren't clear. 'Drop your shirt,' he said. My back still to him, I dropped it to my elbows. 'Are you sure you're up to the task?' I mocked. 'Does it matter?' I knew it didn't, I was just dying to get off. My shirt fell in a pile around my ankles and I savored the lust my body aroused in the eyes of even well-fucked man. 'Get on you knees and finger yourself,' he commanded with smoldering eyes. I smiled and did what he asked. I knelt on my bed, my ass facing him. I spread my legs for him and bent over, placing my head on a pillow. I started to finger myself with one hand while I twisted my nipple with the other. I couldn't see or hear him at all, but I was sure he could see everything. I stroked myself while showing him everything. Finally I felt him place his hands on hips, and he started stroking my back and ass. I moaned in excitement. 'Keep on fingering yourself,' he ordered. I was getting really close to cumming. Suddenly his cock brushed my hand, hard as a rock, still wet from his previous engagement. I eagerly guided him into me, ecstatic that I could arouse him again. I positioned my hands over my head anticipating his thrusts, but he didn't. 'Keep fingering yourself,' he ordered again, standing motionless inside me, his hands reaching forward to cup my breasts. "I did as I was told and in mere minutes I started to cum around him, one of the most powerful orgasms I have ever had. He started to fuck me as I came, holding onto my hips for leverage. I was in heaven, totally helpless, my senses stripped. He pulled out and flipped me over in one swift motion, placing my knees on his shoulders as he mounted me again. I watched his eyes rake my naked body, and I reveled in my sexual power. His hands caressed my breasts as I surrendered to his thrusts. He leaned forward, folding me in half, and kissed me. I could taste Tina on him, but he was here for me. I was the one who would fuck him dry. His trusts got more erratic, and he pushed himself up, staring into my eyes for a few sweet seconds before he came, long and hard. He collapsed on top of me, finally spent. He left just after 2:00, I guess with just enough energy to make it to Steve's. After that, sometimes Tina would talk about that night and how she 'fucked him dry' and he 'probably didn't get a boner for a week'. I would just smile to myself, knowing that it was me, not her, that finished him that night. I haven't talked to him since. And that's the rest of the story." I looked up from my glass. "Damn," they all said in unison. "I'm going to go see if Ted is up," Lisa said, rising unstable. We all giggled and she blushed as she realized we all knew what she had in mind. "I'm just going to go back to the room," Amy said with a tinge of disappointment. I left also, and Jill winked at us as we went out the door. "There's always spring break!" I shook my head. Some fantasies are better left unfulfilled. Zippers, Hooks, and Bones She was standing where I'd placed her, in front of the long mirror on the wardrobe door. I stood behind her. Her eyes were cast down and the expression on her face was neither happy nor sad; neither worried nor expectant. Her lips were closed and relaxed. Her hands were down by her sides with her palms open against her thighs. I looked for a few moments into the mirror; first to see if she would raise her eyes to meet mine and then to survey what I had standing in front of me. She was short; only about 5 feet tall but now she was wearing 3 inch high heel court shoes in black patent leather. The top of her head was on a level with my shoulders. I liked what I saw and placed my hands on her waist; one palm on each side with my fingers and thumbs stretching to the front and back. As if I could hold her waist in my fingers, which I couldn't, of course. She made no movement of her body or of her facial muscles; she was as passive as ever, and her eyes still looked down. I pressed slightly with my middle fingers at the front of her waist and could feel the smooth tight fabric under my touch. Also, I could feel with each finger the long spiral bone that reached from the top edge of the girdle, under her breasts, to the bottom edge in the front-middle of each thigh. But I didn't move my hands up or down; I just felt the bone through the taut fabric, and marvelled as I always do at the firmness of the feel of a tight panelled girdle on a shapely woman. With my thumbs, at the back, I could feel two more of the bones that reached from the top edge of the girdle, under her shoulder blades, to the bottom edge at the centre-back of each thigh; tucking under the shape of her bottom. I pressed a little more on these back bones and felt the girdle flex slightly into the flesh of her beautifully shaped waist and hips. I looked again at her face in the mirror and saw her downcast eyes, but then realised she was looking at my hands. I squeezed them both a little into her waist and her lips moved to the beginnings of a smile. We stood there for a minute with me gently squeezing her waist and she watched my hands, wondering what I would do next, I supposed. Under my squeeze, I could feel also the cuff waist of the long bra that she wore underneath the high girdle, and the bones that held it firm against her skin. Her midriff and breast were held immovable with the strong fabric and the boning of the girdle on top of the bra. She felt like a piece of warm carved wood, rather than flesh and skin. Through my finger tips, I could feel the panels of the two garments, and the stitching that held them with their respective bones. I lingered for moments on each line of stitching, to feel the pressure of the corsetry on her body; the tension in the fabric; the stretching of the material over every small undulation caused by the bones. As well as the panels, this girdle was made with double thickness Lycra at the sides but a rigid panel at the front and a down-stretch satin panel at the back. There were at least 12 rows of stitching holding the various panels together, with the intervening bones. I kept my left hand on her waist and pushed my right hand forward to the middle of her stomach and let it rest there for a few seconds. I could feel the flat tautness of the corsetry over her compressed figure. Then I let the hand move slowly down, feeling the tight smooth fabric and the bones; all the way to the bottom edge. There I let my hand rest with just the tip of my middle finger pressing under the bottom edge of the girdle. I could just sense the small curly hairs of her pubic mound but made no attempt to go further. At that stage. Now, moving my left hand from her waist, I brought it to her back and let it drift down the tight contained shape of her hip, her left thigh and onto her left buttock. On the way, I enjoyed the feel of the back bones and the stitching of the girdle as it held her in its hard embrace. I let my fingers dwell over each millimetre of the boning and tight stitches, over the panel edges, over the specially sewn bottom, with its narrow stretchy lace edging that gave an appearance of gentlessness but actually spoke of even more control over her thighs and bottom. I let me hand slip under the smooth curve of her bottom until it rested half on the edge of the girdle and half against her stockinged thigh. I rested it against one of the back suspenders on the left side of the girdle for a moment. As well as the suspender and the bottom edge of the girdle, I could feel also the ends of two of the long bones in their channels, within the firm stretched Lycra. Then with co-ordinated movements I moved my right hand to the middle of the front edge of the girdle and my left hand to the middle at the back, and pressed slightly. When I glanced into the mirror, I saw that she was looking directly into my face and our eyes met. Still there was no smile or other recognition of the sensations she was feeling under my hands. So I extended the middle finger on each hand; the right one into the bush of her mound and the left along the crack of her bottom. I kept pushing, pressing on her lower abdomen and her buttocks through the girdle, against her labia at the front and the space between her thighs at the back: until eventually my fingers met and I held her whole sex in my hands. It was a long stretch for my right arm but we stood there for some time, maybe two minutes, as I felt the warmth of her crotch. I noticed also that my right hand was becoming moist; perhaps from the closeness of our bodies and the pressure of my hand; but also perhaps from her excitement. I would find out later. I relaxed the pressure on her lower body and moved my hands up the front of the girdle, under her arms, feeling again the shiny hardness of the inflexible front satin panel with its bones, and the construction of the long bra underneath. I continued until my hands were just under her breasts and I cupped each of them through the bra. She was not a big-breasted woman, say 36B, but she was firm and pointed, and very well held in the bra. The material of that bra was amazing; it looked soft and lacy but actually was firm and stitched, and had bones running down the side of each breast, the full length of the bra, in addition to the underwires. She was standing with her arms out from her body and stretching her calves because of the high heels. Her stance reminded instantly of a photograph I saw many years before in a brochure from Gardner & Sons, corset makers of London. For a corset style called "Jean," I think, the model had been standing for the shot with her arms out to show off her waist and pitched slightly forward to exaggerate the curve over her hips. That memory and the feel of this woman excited me more than anything I could remember. I allowed my hands to let go of her delicious breasts and move down to her thighs, slowly to feel the tightness and the firmness of the corsetry with its unyielding bones; and her arms relaxed again over my hands. I traced the length and the shape of each bone from her waist to the bottom edge of the girdle. And then I moved across to the next bone and felt along that one; and so on for all the four bones either side of the girdle that kept it straight and controlled on her figure. I knew that girdle well; it could stand up by itself and I had done that with it many times in my planning of this evening. [.....a month earlier, she had rested back after our first lovemaking and I leaned on one elbow, reaching across to kiss the nearest breast. She'd put her hand on my head and murmured softly, "So nice. So good. You're a lovely man." I'd wagged my head even as I'd kissed her nipple, and then moved to look into her face, "No. You're wonderful. I want so much more with you." She'd been quiet for some time and then said, "You can do what you want." She hadn't realised what she was saying to a man with my special interests. I'd run my hands over her figure and estimated her measurements for what I'd had in mind. I'd known then that this woman would look and feel amazing in classic, vintage corsetry with tight stockings and high heels. I'd known already what I wanted for her. A high-line panelled zippered girdle, boned over its length, and with at least six suspenders. I'd seen the bra I wanted for her as well; long line with a cuff waist; also boned down the front, sides and back; and with a long row of hooks at the back. I would make love to this woman when she was dressed to my liking. No; I'd plough this woman, grind this woman, fill, squeeze, stretch, bend, contort and explode this woman until I was exhausted and she was hardly conscious. Only her restrictive underwear would save her. And so I'd started my planning...] I moved closer to her so that my chest touched her shoulders and the back of her head rested against my chin. I stretched as far as I could reach and pressed both hands under the bottom edge of the girdle. I held the front suspender on each side in my hands, and tugged gently on them. I moved both hands to the middle and pressed my fingers under the edge, into her pubis. I was right; she was wet and warm; so I pressed both middle fingers into her labia and felt her move for the first time. Looking in the mirror, I saw that her eyes were closed and her lips slightly open, just enough for me to see her front teeth. Her head bent backwards against my chin and I moved to let her throat to be exposed. Slowly, I started to move my middle fingers against her labia and her clitoris, which was well-hidden. I remembered that from our first time together and now I knew where to search with my fingers. Her head and throat stretched further back against me and her eyelids closed tightly; almost as if she was in pain but this was pleasure. I could tell, so I kept up the gentle pressure and the rhythm for a long time. It took many minutes before she started to breathe deeply, then rapidly and then gasping through half open lips. Until, at last, she shuddered and her eyes opened, looking straight into mine through the mirror. She didn't smile and her eyes closed again as she took a deep breath and I felt her relax, but with her head still arched back against me. I never knew a woman who could reach orgasm standing up like this, and I was excited by her. She looked into my eyes again and moved as if to turn round to face me, but I stopped her by holding her hips and kept her facing the mirror. Quickly and smoothly I moved my hands up the front of her body, under her arms, first holding her breasts momentarily, and then pressing on the front of her shoulders, until my hands rested on her stretched throat. Both hands pressing from the front and curling my fingers round to the back in a soft unpressured strangle. I smiled back at her and pressed my hands a little more into her throat. Her arms were stretched out, held my mine as I reached around her throat. I could feel her breath and the pulse in her neck under my hands. She was no longer smiling and her eyes were wide open; not the languorous half-shut eyes of a few moments ago. I relaxed my grip and her body slumped slightly against my chest; and she smiled again. [...a month earlier, I'd asked her, "Will you dress specially for me, next time we're together." "Of course," she'd replied immediately, as if it had been nothing new to her. She'd probably thought about frilly panties and a satin basque or suspender belt. Perhaps she'd thought about a maid's outfit, or a schoolgirl, or a nurse; all well established turn-ons for some men. She'd not known then about the girdle fetish and the lengths some men will go to for that special pleasure. I'd decided to obtain as much commitment as possible before starting down a road that she my have baulked at. "It'll give me great pleasure and I'll make it as comfortable for you as possible," I'd hinted and smiled. She had frowned a little. "Will it be uncomfortable for me?" she'd asked, "what will it be?" "Just nice clothing to show off your shape. Nothing to worry about. Shall I send you some pictures, some ideas, so that you'll know? Or shall we make it a surprise?" I had offered, hoping for the latter. "No. Surprise me," she had said, "it will excite me if it excites you. You know that," she had replied. I'd known then that this was an extraordinary woman that I would enjoy, and enjoy, and enjoy...] Now I placed my hands on her waist again, and backed away from her, pulling her with me slowly. I twisted my hands so that she turned and faced me with her back to the mirror. She raised her arms and held me around my neck as we kissed. I wrapped my arms around her upper torso and let the sensations of the corsetry filter through all my senses. She kissed me standing on her tiptoes, as I felt her hips with my hands, and her torso through my forearms. I could feel the firm tautness of the girdle and the bra, and the lines of the bones pressing against my skin. In addition, I could smell the distinctive aroma of warm Lycra, nylon, elastomeric fibres; as well as the warmth of her excitement as it arose between us from between her legs. I pulled her towards me and felt the front of the girdle, tight and flat against my groin; against my growing erection. The front suspenders of the girdle pressed against my thighs, and her stocking tops felt smooth and warm somewhere just above my knees because of her short stature. She kissed and kissed me; full kisses with her whole passion; lips and tongue; teeth chewing at my lips; opening her throat for me. I explored her mouth to her back teeth and sucked on her tongue and her lips as well. That kiss by itself would have got me to an erection, but the feel of the corsetry doubled my arousal. I brought my hands down to hold her waist again and pulled her towards me with a gentle increasing pressure, so that I could feel my erection trapped between my own abdomen and the central bones of her girdle. She wriggled slightly as we kissed and the bones moved against my erection, bringing me to a fever of excitement. Slowly as we kissed, I walked her towards the bed and we broke contact as I laid her down gently. She was still wearing her high heels. There was no pillow on the bed so she lay completely flat with her head back on the mattress and her throat stretched just as it had been a few minutes ago. I bent over her and kissed her lips, moving then to her breasts as they pointed to the ceiling, held within their firm bra cups. I kissed the bra cups themselves and felt the stiffness of the fabric, the stitching and the edging, all enclosing her strong little breasts. I breathed in and could taste the slightly chemical smell of the nylon and other fibres in the bra. It was intoxicating. As I was kissing her, I let one hand wander down her midriff, over her waist and so to the bottom edge of the girdle. I lingered as I went, feeling again the structure of her corsetry; the firm panel at the front, the bones and the stretch panels either side, and so to the edge with its suspenders. I dipped my hand under the edge and into her pubic hair, feeling for the little valley between her labia. It was easy to find. She was so wet; my finger slipped inside with no pressure and she opened her legs a little to allow my whole hand to rest between them, as I probed deeply into her. She moaned a gentle "Aaah." She was ready. [...a month earlier, I had said to her, "I'd love to make love with you dressed. Will that be ok?" "Fully dressed?" she had asked, with a little rise in her voice. "No; dressed in nice underwear that I'll choose for you. It'll be a surprise for you. Ok?" I had asked, not wanting to give away too much of my plan. "Of course," she'd replied. Clearly she had still been thinking still about flimsy sweet lacy undies, and I let her carry that thought. I had known already that I wanted her in the firmest and most restrictive corsetry that I could get, short of a real steel-boned lace-up corset. That would come later, if I could arrange it. "I look forward to the surprise," she'd said, "whatever you want. You please me so much..."] Pressing my middle finger into her, I could feel the bottom edge of the girdle against my wrist. I pressed a little and the edge resisted me. I knew that sensation would be magnified as I got my erection into her; very soon. Lifting myself on the other arm, I shifted myself on top of her and rested with my knees inside hers and my arms stretched out either side of the bra. I pushed with my hands and brought my erection down to the bottom edge of the girdle, and let it rest on her pubic mound under the edge. With one hand still on the bed, I moved the other down to lift behind her knee so that her knee bent and came up to meet my ribs. Placing that hand down to the bed, I did the same on the other side but she got the idea before I lifted her knee and raised it voluntarily. Now she was exposed to my erection in a tunnel made by the bottom edge of the girdle all the way round her hips. As I dropped my position slightly, I could feel the back edge of the girdle against my testicles, even as I probed forward and began to move between her wet warm labia. Her arms were stretched out on her either side, and she made no movement to assist or resist me. Her eyes were open and looking straight into mine. I probed a little more and found myself entering her with no guidance by hand or other movement by either of us. She was smooth and firm; not too tight; slightly ridged; very slippery. I entered as far as I could in that position, until I felt the girdle edge pressing against my groin and resisting any advance. I stayed there for a few moments, feeling the firm girdle against my erection, and the smoothness of the front panels against my abdomen, especially the bones pressing against the hairs on my lower body. The corsetry felt wonderful. I was stretching her and the girdle, as she was doubled up with her feet now up near my shoulders. She closed her eyes with the pleasure, I presumed, of being entered and filled. I leaned forward by bending my arms and rested my torso on hers, feeling as I did the full length of the girdle and bra beneath me. My chest pressed against the tight filled bra; my midriff against the combined tension of the bra and girdle over her waist; my groin against the now tightened stretching of the bottom edge of the girdle. I could feel the taut fabric, the hard-pressed body within the clothing, the bones and the stitching against my skin. The sensation and the knowledge of it gave impetus to my erection and my urgency. Now her feet in their high heeled shoes were pressed up near her own ears, and her knees were near my shoulders. I leaned my full weight onto her and plunged my erection into the tunnel of the girdle. The back edge was hard against my scrotum and my testicles were rubbing at the stretched fabric; even as the front edge was pressing on my groin and resisting my movements. She was immobile beneath me, partly because of my weight but also because of the tight constraint of the corsetry. Her eyes were closed tight again, crunching her eyelids together; this time maybe through discomfort and apprehension, but perhaps through pleasure. I didn't know. I didn't really care. I was lying on an erotic bundle of corsetry and I was plunging into a delightful vagina that could not move in any direction other than that I gave it with my thrusting. [... a month earlier, I had asked her, "Do you ever take the dominant role with a lover?" "What do you mean?" she'd asked in return, "do you mean with a whip or something?" "No. Course not. I mean do you like to take the lead with situations, and positions and movements? When you've been with a man?" I had clarified. "Oh no," she had said softly, "I like things to happen to me. I like it to be a surprise. I like it when a pleasure finds me unexpectedly. Do you understand me?" Zippers, Hooks, and Bones "Oh yes," I had replied, and planned my pleasures without the need to consider the possibility of her stopping me, or complaining. "You are perfect," I had told her...] I raised my hands under her arms as I lay with my full weight on her, and she lifted her arms out of my way. Slowly but deliberately, I placed my hands on either side of her face, covering her ears. She didn't open her eyes although now she could hear very little. Again, slowly but deliberately, I pushed my thumbs behind her neck, leaving the rest of my hands on the sides of her face. I leaned down with my mouth and kissed whatever of her came to my lips. It was her nose and brow. As I was kissing her in this way, I slipped my fingers away from her ears and over her face until they were under her chin. Now I held her throat in my two hands, as I had before, with thumbs behind and fingers pressing under her chin. I didn't squeeze her throat but I took a position lying on her so that I could push with my arms. Hooking my hands under her chin at the front and in the nape of her neck behind, I could push on her head without strangling her. It was as if I were converting her into one of those Padaung women in Burma, who stretch their necks with brass rings over a lifetime, so that they cannot live without the support they get from the coils. Her arms were up in the air somewhere; her knees were near her ears; the corsetry was stretched more than the makers had ever expected or designed; her body was being straightened out and lengthened by my pushing against her head. She was gasping for breath and her hands were clenching and unclenching. I glanced at her eyes which were staring at the ceiling, wondering what was happening and how it would end. She knew, and I knew, that I was strong enough to push her head completely off her spine. But that was not my plan. What I wanted to happen began to happen. Somewhere deep inside her body, a reaction over which she had no control, a rippling and spasming started. I could feel it through the corsetry against my torso, and then deeper down against me erection inside her. Her internal organs and her torso muscles were going into spasm and she was churning like a grinding machine on the end of my erection. I pushed harder. I rammed my erection into her repeatedly and with more force each time. The corsetry was straining at my every plunge. I was bucking my body over hers as if she were a see-saw and my orgasm was building. And then it all happened at once. With one final push at her head, the spasm inside her massaged my erection to its climax. The corsetry became to move for reasons I couldn't make out. She started to moan through her stretched throat. I flooded her vagina with my sperm and fluids and, at the same moment, the girdle came apart at the front seam. Where the two bones were contained in fabric pockets. They stuck out against my torso, even as I enjoyed my own final spasm of pleasure deep inside her. I relaxed my grip on her head and raised myself on my elbows, to look down into her face. She was still gasping and her eyes were staring at the ceiling still. Gently and slowly I lifted myself onto my stretched out arms and then lifted myself off her body, to one side; where I had started 30 minutes earlier. I leaned over and kissed her cheek and her shoulder, leaving my head almost resting on her shoulder. She made no movement for some time and then placed her hand on my head, with gently pressure. Amid her panting, she said, "Oh. Wow," and let out a deep sigh. With her other hand she reached down and felt the wreckage of the corsetry over her torso. The girdle had split from the top edge to the bottom, with bones sticking out and suspenders pointing incongruously in all directions. I placed my hand on hers, on top of the destroyed clothing. We both relaxed and slumbered for some minutes. After that, we got up and showered. I collected the clothing as we took it off her, and she surveyed the lines it had left on her skin. We spoke no words through all her undressing, nor during the showers, not until we were drying each other. "I was afraid," she said as I reached down to dry her thighs and calves. "There was no need to be. I'll never cause you any harm. You were magnificent. Thank you," I said and held her to kiss her in the big towel. "I didn't know what was happening. What was inside me? Was it you or was it me?" she queried in all her innocence. "It was you. You're amazing. You're my dream. Can we do more like this in the future? Please," I was almost pleading with her. "Yes. Show me more," she said. And that was our first step in a new erotic history. I was going to enjoy lot more girdle sex; a lot more sensations through my skin; a lot more bones and taut fabrics and hooks and zippers; many more suspenders and stockings. And this lovely sensuous woman would provide the figure on which my fetish would be worked through.