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Liquid Chocolate

By: Jazz E.



"So what's this I heard about you living with someone? A real firecracker by all accounts."

"Yeah?" I looked up from my beer, suspiciously. "What else did you hear?"

"Nothing, really. Only that you were hot and heavy with some hot young chick." Matt looked at me closely. I stared intently at the glass before, lips pursed, mouth set. He could detect, in that sixth-sense sort of way that good old friends can, a deeper story – much deeper. Involuntarily, I heaved a long, emotive sigh. "Wanna tell me about it?" he asked softly, laying a hand on my arm.

I sat up and took a long draw on my beer. Matt had been out of town for the past year. We were there just to catch up. I'd known him for over 35 years, and I really needed to tell someone – someone who wasn't involved. We had nothing beyond beer and a visit planned. I guessed he was the one – and now was the time. Shaking my shoulders, I replied, "Yeah. Why not?" I smiled at him and added, "you're not going to believe it anyway, but it makes for good, rousing entertainment – or perhaps that should be arousing!" I called for another round –, waiting, draining my glass, before I began.

"Well, first time I saw her, she took my breath away. Really." I sipped my beer as the memories filtered back. Dabbing my mouth, I continued. "She was standing behind the counter at the Silvercoast Chocolate Shop in Silver Creek mall. I remember just catching her in the corner of my eye. Jeez," I snickered, "my neck snapped around so fast it hurt. I couldn't take my eyes off her. She looked like something mystical – supernatural. She was a goddess – a chocolate goddess." Matt nodded, as I thought about it, again. "Although not quite chocolate," I muttered, more to myself, "more mocha. But – whatever – she was... she was ... so ... so incredibly beautiful my mouth went dry – literally!" I glanced at Matt to see if he understood. He was taking it all in; not yet passing judgement. "Well, I grabbed something, without even looking at it, and went to the counter to make the purchase. Up close she was even more spectacular. I couldn't understand why the place wasn't lousy with slathering males, but at that moment, I was the only customer in the shop. As she rang it in, I couldn't help myself. 'Excuse my boldness,' I stammered like a teenager, 'but, you are... I mean...' – I didn't really know what to say. I mean, everything that came to my mind sounded so trite – so crass, but I had to say something. My brain was reeling, and I didn't have any idea what was going to come out, even as it came. 'You are the most stunningly beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on!'

"I stood there frozen – feeling like such a geek, and she looked at me wide-eyed for just a moment. A flush suffused her cheeks, before she dropped her eyes once more – ostensibly to complete the transaction. 'Thank you,' she cooed.

"She put the candy in a bag with the receipt and handed to me, kinda shyly. I felt awkward as I took it, taking care not to touch her hand – though, man, let me tell you I desperately wanted to – take her hand, that is." I could feel a blush rising to my cheeks as I recalled the intensity of the moment. "So I just took the bag, muttered a thank you and turned mechanically to leave. Christ, I would have loved to stay there and just stare at her all evening, but to what end, with what excuse? Anyway, another customer had just come in.

"So I exited, rather woodenly – not that I had a hard-on, or anything," I explained, looking up again. "No, it was way more than that – way more complicated than a simple sexual turn-on. 

"Anyway, as I left the shop I thought he heard her say, really quietly, and breathy-like, 'I get off in an hour.' It was a hallucination, I was sure – wishful thinking, nonetheless, my head just about wrenched itself off my shoulders. She was looking at me. I couldn't believe it. And she gave me this sweet, innocent, coy smile, before turning back to the next customer.

"I just about fell down. My heart was pounding. I felt so adolescent; still, I wandered the mall aimlessly for a few minutes letting her visage echo around my brain. Finally – actually, it was only a few minutes later – I found a shielded bench from which I could watch her without her seeing me." I chuckled at the thought, raised my glass, and added just before taking a gulp, "I sat there trying to find the best description of her complexion. I think what I settled on was 'a Grand Marnier mocha melange.'

"Well," I began again, after a few moments of quiet reverie, "to make a long story short, or perhaps, to make a long, convoluted story a little more tellable: I had watched her sign out, and gather her belongings, and I met her at the door about an hour later. She smiled shyly – shyly but alluringly. She seemed more pleased than surprised. Anyway, we approached one another tentatively, or timidly – almost warily – a little stunned and a little bashful. Taking a deep breath, I said 'Hi,' and invited her for coffee; she accepted. Somehow, I knew she would. 

"'So, Tillie,' I says, checking out her name tag, 'I'm Simon.' She smiles, a sort of goofy, toothy smile, and says hi. We just started walking down the mall. I just didn't know where to go with it – literally or figuratively, so I asked her what Tillie was short for." I snorted at the memory of her response. She was both embarrassed and indignant. "Her name is Mathilda – which she hates – Mathilda Gertrude Sampson, both Grandmothers' names. She said it with such disgust it was almost funny. Somehow or other we found our way into a coffee place and got our orders. Then we began to exchange our – what would you call them? – superficial life-details. Matt," I glanced up at him, to see if he was bored with me yet, "I was watching her face the whole time we spoke. I felt like I was enchanted, but what was really weird was that, and this is no word of a lie, the look in her eyes was one of infatuation – I couldn't believe it, but she was no less enthralled than I was.

"Even looking back, I've never been able to figure out what she ever saw in me – a plain, round, white guy, well past forty; thinning hair and thickening waist. She, on the other hand, was perfect – perfection manifest. Full lips; glittering deep brown eyes, impeccably set around a pert nose, with just a tiny hint of the Dark Continent still evident – if you know what I mean; flawless mocha skin – creamy coffee-coloured with just a hint of orange spice undertones. Her black hair hung to her shoulders in neat, tight braids. Her breasts swelled proudly – not large, but perfectly shaped – her nipples just a slight insinuation under her sweater. Her hands were fluid, her fingers fine, her legs obviously shaped and toned beneath her slacks. At 23 years old... – too young? I still don't know. Anyway, at 23 years old, she was, to my mind, the ideal specimen. She was exactly what had been intended when mankind had first emerged in central Africa.

"Obvious infatuation notwithstanding, we talked and talked and talked. We talked about everything. Everything except what was front and centre in each of our minds – that is, our mutual attraction. Then, at some point, to emphasize some trivial point, Tillie reached out and touched my hand." I shook my head, shaking free of the intensity of the memory. "I'll tell you, Matt, it was like nothing I'd ever experienced. It was electric. I felt the energy well up inside – starting, I have to admit, in my loins, then boiling up my spine to sparkle behind my eyes. 'Can I take you home?' I sputtered, not really knowing if I meant my home or hers – and actually not really caring.

"'No,' she had said demurred softly, clasping my hand once again. 'Too fast! Too soon!' I can't say I couldn't see her point – deep down; still I was disappointed. 'Can I see you again?' I asked, adding quickly, 'Tomorrow?' She smiled and nodded, batting her wonderful eyelashes, 'Yeah, that would be nice.' 

"And so it began – innocently enough. The next day we met once again, and once again we talked and talked and talked over coffee and dessert. Time seemed to hang suspended, yet at the same time it whizzed by. And suddenly it was time to go. Outside the coffee shop, as she turned to me to say goodbye, I grasped her shoulders and, hesitating just a moment, I leaned in to kiss her. Her hands gripped my biceps, and squeezed, telegraphing the tension of that first, cautious kiss. When our lips met, it was ... well, it was like nothing ... nothing I had ever experienced. Electric and sweet, soft and tantalizing. It was, I suppose, like what they tell about in songs and stories – well beyond anything I had ever felt before. I didn't want it to stop – ever.

"The pressure of her lips was mirrored through her fingers against my arms – building steadily until she broke the lip lock and turned her face demurely to the side. Her arms gently encircled me and her cheek rested against my chest. She must have been able to feel my racing heart as I stood trying to catch my breath – trying to reorient myself. After a comfortable pause, a pause that could have gone on forever, I leaned down and brushed my lips against the back of her neck. She went stiff for the briefest moment, a surprised gasp escaping her lips, then seemed to melt into me – over me – clinging to me for support.

"'Oh, God!' she whispered. I leaned down, ever-so-lightly kissing her exposed neck again. She shivered and half-heartedly complained softly, 'Don't....' Intrigued, I continued to feather oral caresses across the back of her neck. She shivered again, cooing softly, but she made no move to avoid my lips. 

"'Can I walk you home?' I asked, a little bewildered.

"'Either that,' she hissed through short gasping breaths, 'or take me right here, right now!' I couldn't believe my ears! Gathering her to my side, I began the short walk in the direction of the abode she had described earlier. She called out as we entered the suite, checking on her roommates, neither of whom was there, then she bundled me into her room, tearing at my clothing as she slammed the door with a kick. 'Ohmigod!' she whispered, 'What's come over me? I've never felt like this before.'

"I was stunned. Here I was, with this 23 year old vixen tearing at my clothes. The girl of my dreams. And I stood frozen, like an adolescent nerd, not knowing what to do. Right! Then, suddenly, I launched into action. Tumbling Tillie onto her bed, I joined her in her fevered effort to remove all our clothes as quickly as possible. The moment we were naked, she spread her beautiful legs, and, grabbing my member with both hands, guided it to her sex. I had never been so hard in all my life. She pulled, touching my swollen, pulsing glans against the warm fuzz of her bush, and stared, her eyes glittering with an unfettered lust. 'Go!' she hissed.

"I drove into her with reckless abandon, ploughing between her slick lips into the warm grip of her vagina, not stopping until our pubic beards tangled. The moment I reached depth, she began to writhe and moan, as wave after wave of orgasmic pleasure washed over her, pounding her sensibilities like the surf. Locking her ankles around my butt, she pulled and released rhythmically, her fingernails burrowing into my shoulder blades, dampening the uncontrolled flailing of her torso. Her head flung from side to side as if it were trying to tear itself right off her shoulders.

"'Oh,oh, oh,' she cried, thrusting her hips back against my skewering cock. My jabbing erection throbbed so much it hurt – toeing that fine line between extreme agony and extreme ecstasy. Then I could take no more. My balls seized and, unbelievably, my rock-hard penis stiffened further. Spearing her mercilessly, I felt myself trying to climb inside her as more semen than I thought I could hold boiled up my iron pipe and sprayed hot against her cervix. The heat of that spray proved too much for Tillie, and she spasmed stiff then swooned, her head falling to the side, her legs going limp and her fingers relaxing at last. I pumped and pumped, finally slowing to collapse into the moist warmth of Tillie's heaving chest. 'Omigod! Omigod!' she softly chanted, her mantra to a slowly returning awareness."

I felt a bead of sweat trickling down my forehead, as I glanced over at Matt. Wide-eyed, he remained silent, only wiping his upper lip with his sleeve – and waiting. "More detail than I need to know?" he suggested wryly.

"You ain't heard nothin', yet," I replied, returning his wry grin. "Besides you asked for it. Now you're gonna hear it."

So I continued. "We talked and laughed and made love for the rest of the night. I came four times!" Matt raised his eyebrows. I just shook my head. It was still, even now, hard to believe, but how many times had I reviewed the memories, counting? It had really been four times! Four times in – what? – something like fourteen hours. Un-fucking-believable! "I was enchanted – under a spell. It felt like I had fallen down a rabbit hole into fantasyland.

"Yeah," I muttered, giving my head a shake, before I continued. It sounded so unbelievable. "I was there, and I hardly believe it." I looked at Matt once again. "You had enough? Or ya wanna hear more?"

It was his turn to shake his head. "Go on," he said. "I've no reason to think you'd lie – though you clearly may be delusional." He chuckled, then waited, sipping his beer.

"Well, it was so intense, we had to debrief. I asked Tillie if it was always like that, or had it ever been like that, for her. She just smiled and softly explained, as much to herself as me. 'I always felt like there was something muting my sexuality. I mean,' she grinned impishly, 'I'm only twice removed from virginity – well, three times, now. Anyway, it was like I had a plastic seal over my libido – keeping it separated from the physical part of my life. It made sex – the only other two times – kind of stilted, almost boring. No fireworks, hardly even lights. 

"'The last time, previous to this,' she went on, 'I could sort of, vaguely feel a sexual pressure, somewhere, like it was pushing against a sealed flap, but never even close to being strong enough to break the seal. But when you kissed the back of my neck – no one had ever done that to me before – it was like someone shook the can. The pressure built so suddenly; then something just let go. The seal, I think, is well and truly broken.' She smiled up at me. 'The rush of erotic sensation that overcame me was incredible. There was a sort of euphoria unlike anything I've ever known. The explosive nature of it was disorienting – disorienting and irresistible. It was as if I'd completely lost my will – lost the will to resist – lost the will to consider anything other than sexual release. And that loss – that loss of control was pretty fucking scary, if you'll excuse my language.

"'But more than that, like Pandora's box, I have the feeling that my sexuality is out, now. It'll never get re-gathered, herded back into that place of safe-keeping.' Again, she smiled at me – a little sadly – a little frightened. 'I guess that's okay. But it's gonna take some getting used to.'

"And that was the start. From there our relationship took off – all wheelspin and loud exhaust – accelerating so incredibly fast that we were just left hanging on for dear life, and watching, sort of impotently, as the newborn relationship-beast bucked and kicked and careened off in all directions. We were together after work every day for the next two weeks, at which time, she packed her bags, gave her roomies her next month's rent in lieu of notice, and moved into my house. I know it was way too fast. We both knew. But it was way too exciting, too.

"All I had to do was kiss or touch or even blow on the back of her neck, and she went off like a skyrocket. It was like a trigger that unleashed some sort of nymphomania – and like the sound of thunder, whose echoes and rumbles persist well after the initial bang, the remarkable arousal she experienced persisted as a hyper-sensitivity, fading slowly over the course of the next hour or so. I mean, she was 23 years old, for Christ's sake; had no one ever touched her there before?

"In that first two weeks, I had more sex than I'd had in the previous five years, I'm sure. And Tillie, a novice, as it were, was a natural. She'd try anything I suggested. It was unbelievably great. More so than words could ever describe. And it just kept getting better and better. Tillie had been right about the Pandora's Box thing. Once the dam was breached, the floodgates, blown wide open, could not be closed again. We didn't slow down – we couldn't. Even after she moved in. Not until the end of the first month. We were so exhausted, we were both on the verge of collapse. So we agreed to a much-needed break. We took a long weekend and stayed in bed. And we actually stayed in bed the entire three days, except to get food and drink. We just read and slept blissfully, most of the time – most of the weekend.

"Well, almost, anyway. In retrospect, Tillie had already developed an addiction. On that Monday afternoon, still in bed, she turned to me and said, 'I don't think I can make it.' She was very matter-of-fact about it. Putting down my book, I asked her what she meant. She stared into my eyes, silent for a moment, drawing a finger lightly down my chest, twirling my chest hairs and licking her lips. 'It's like there's this sexual pressure building inside of me.' She sounded oddly worried. 'It's becoming critical.' She paused again, batting her big brown eyes. 'I don't think I can hold it back, any more,' she stammered, her eyes moistening. 'I've tried. I really have. But I can't – I'm sorry, but I just can't – any more.'

"Geez, Matt, you have no idea. She sounded so pathetic, so sorry, my heart just broke. 'Hey,' I clucked, softly, pulling her into my arms, 'That's all right, babe. We've had our rest. It wasn't s'posed to be an ordeal, eh?' And as I said that she just let go. I hadn't even breathed on her special spot, yet. Rubbing me with her boobs, nibbling, pulling, tickling, tweaking. What could I do? I leaned over and kissed the back of her neck.

"There was always a half hour there at the beginning of any episode when she became preternaturally – I don't know – wired for sex; and nothing – not even thunderous multiple orgasms – nothing, it seemed, could satisfy her. She relished what was happening, but always wanted more and more – sexual stimulation – sensual excess – self-gratification. But, you know, Matt, even early on, it was much more than simple self-gratification. Tillie was not self-centred – not at all. She was as gratified by the giving of sex as by the receiving.

"So I pushed her head down into my crotch, my hard-on, steely against her cheek. Whimpering softly, she turned and engulfed me. It was fucking marvelous – a sight to behold. You know, the moment she had me in her mouth, she – SHE started climaxing. Her cheeks and lips quivered and shuddered along the length of my rod, while her tongue convulsed spasmodically. I place my hands over her ears just because that's where they settled. She sure as hell didn't need any help. Pushing herself down hard into my pubes, I could feel her cheeks squeezing in tight against my throbbing, aching cock. Then, like a spring released, she began frenetically bobbing, alternately catching my glans just behind her teeth on the up stroke and flattening her nose against the hairy base of my pulsing erection. I could feel myself threatening to explode. A few exquisitely painful thrusts later, stroking her uvula with my veined shaft, pounding my cockhead against the back of her throat – it was more than I could take.

"Ignition rippled up, white hot, from somewhere behind my balls, gathered in my tightening scrotum and erupted deep in her mouth – a liquid skyrocket, spraying violently, then running into her gullet, like cough-syrup. Holding her head tight into my crotch, I watched her whole body shudder and twitch through yet another insistent climax.


Liquid Chocolate



"I lay back catching my breath, but Tillie only paused for a moment. Her lips began working my softening prick, right away again, before, even, it had a chance to relax – recoup. Her fingers scrambled up my chest, frantically reaching out for my nipples. 'Oh, God!' she repeated over and over again, around the meat filling her mouth and growing once again with her ministrations.

"Yep, I was up again." While he had, up to this point, kept his visage very neutral, I could see a hint skepticism creep into Matt's eyes. I lifted my head, getting a little more earnest in my recounting. "I know it sounds too fantastic, but as unbelievable as it sounds, that was the effect Tillie's ultra-sexuality was having on me – me and my performance. I mean, suddenly, I could come a couple or three times over the frenzied course of only a few hours. Not only that, but I could keep up the pace for days on end. And remember, this particular occasion was at the end of a short hiatus. Didn't matter, though; her arousal was contagious, her excitement infectious. My own sexuality was charged by an energy field surrounding her – the field generated by her uninhibited obsession.

"I could go on for ever. It was so intense – going from one crest to the next with hardly time to breathe in between. At one point, I leaned back on the pillows, heart pounding, breathless as if I'd just run a race. As she came after me again, a raw, feral look in her eyes, I said, 'No. Give me a minute. Just use your fingers for a few minutes.' She hesitated, a look of confusion briefly washing her features through the sheen of sweat and come, beneath her wild, and matted tangled of wet hair. 'Yeah,' I said, putting a hint of dominance in my voice, 'sit back and make yourself come. Put on a show for me.' By her twitching smile, I could see that the suggestion was not only accepted, it was even further arousing.

"Tillie's eyes seemed to lose their intensity to a far-away glazing as she settled back, spreading her legs – her breath already becoming ragged, again. One hand clasped to her breast, twiddling and twisting her nipple, she fed the other hand, tentatively at first, to her sex. Dragging her fingers softly up her slick slit, her hips began to hump the moment she touched her clit. Panting and puffing through pursed lips, she suddenly, and violently drove three fingers deep into herself, hopping with her butt, pushing herself onto her hand, frantically; eyes fixed straight ahead, her other hand squeezed and mauled her breast, pulling and pinching the nipple mercilessly. Her climax came upon her so abruptly the breath caught in her chest, and she froze for the tiniest moment like a rocket at its apogee. Motionless, she was, for just that instant, as a glowing red tide swept over her; then, thrashing and screaming, she toppled over the edge. Flailing and writhing, her head back, mouth agape, fingers a blur, she plummeted once again into the viscous sea of erotic pleasure that words fail to describe. 

"'Great show!' Catching her breath, she smiled and nodded to my praise, finally stilling her fingers. 'Hey, but I'm not quite ready, yet, sweetie,' I complained, 'so, how 'bout you give me another one, eh? There must be more where that came from.' A look of pleading flashed across her face, but her hands stayed fixed in their places, and taking a deep breath, she began the inexorable journey toward auto-fulfillment, once more.

"I suspected she wanted a rest, even needed a rest, but, somehow, I knew that she had relinquished control. I'd seen hints of it before, but now I was quite sure. When she got into that manic space, as she moved from climax to climax, recovering from or approaching orgasm, she seemed to give up her self-control, surrender her free will. She became a slave to her sexuality, not just open to lewd suggestions but bound by them. And by her responses, relishing them.

"I watched with admiration, slowly becoming aroused again by the stunning tableau. Strumming fingertips, bouncing buttocks, short, sharp gasps punctuated by piteous whimpers. I stared, pleased and intrigued, as once more she brought herself to a soul-shattering orgasm. I could see – and I believe, hard as it may have been for her to admit it, she, too, was discovering – that directed self-stimulation was a very powerful aphrodisiac for her. Indeed, while she lay, limp in the afterglow, virtually drained of her vitality, there was a look of supreme satisfaction settling on her lips and in her eyes. And I'd done that, I thought to myself. Indirectly, perhaps, but I'd brought her to that particular orgasm. And there was something of a feeling of power in that.

"I decided to run with it. 'Let's play Simon says,' I announced as she settled back to earth. I couldn't begin to relate all the details – you know: 'Simon says give me some head.' 'Simon says stretch both your nipples way out – with only one hand.' 'Simon says touch your cervix.' Well, that was the first time, and it was a runaway success. As tired as she was, as worn out from sexual excess, I played her like a fiddle. Before long I had her wound up like a spring, ready to explode. 'You mustn't climax until Simon says you can,' I cautioned. 'Simon says suck me off and don't spill a drop.' That was hard for her, because she was so very close herself. Squealing and panting around my dick, she took me deep, slurping and gagging, bobbing frantically, while trying desperately to stave off her own imminent climax.

"I came like a freight train, holding her by the ears and filling her mouth to overflowing. As soon as she'd collected the last stray drop on her tongue, all the while fighting off the torturous insistence of her impending orgasm, I barked, 'Sit up straight! Hands on your head!' She couldn't have looked more shocked if I'd cut off her nipple – still, she quickly complied.

"'Please,' she begged.

"'Please, what?' I teased.

"'Please let me come,' she whimpered.

"'In time, in time,' I promised, 'but don't you dare get there until Simon says!' I gloated to myself at my control. I held her for a moment longer in virtual bondage, then I said, 'Simon says touch your clit with your left hand. But don't come.' I smiled as she tentatively accepted my double-edged sword. 'Simon says hang on to a nipple with your right hand.' I could see her quivering on the edge, struggling to keep the rising orgasm at bay.

"'Okay,' I whispered, 'Let yourself go!' Immediately Tillie's orgasm overwhelmed her like a tsunami. Wailing like a hurricane, she convulsed the length of her body. Her violent quaking shook her fingers from their purchases, and she instinctively clawed them back. Flopping about like someone in seizure, she mewed and shrieked by turns.

"As she slowly regained her composure, her chest still heaving, her body glistening and quivering, I looked down at her and laughed. 'What are we going to do with you?' I smiled indulgently. 'You didn't wait for Simon says.... I guess, we'll have to devise some suitable consequence, won't we?' Well, as they say, Begin at the beginning, said the king gravely.... Hence, we got into a bit of corporal punishment. I draped Tillie across my knee and began to spank her. At that point it was just token smacks on her bare buttocks, but even then, before we took it any further, it became very obvious that corporal punishment, for Dear Tillie, was no punishment at all. Quite the opposite, for right away she became increasingly and conspicuously aroused with every swat to her derriere.

I took a long pull on my beer, wiping my mouth on my sleeve, lost in the reverie. 

"And...?" Matt queried, bringing me back.

"Yeah," I snorted, shrugging my shoulders. "Oh yeah." I heaved a heavy sigh, before continuing. "Suddenly, rapidly – faster than either of us could understand – we progressed into a sort of do-it-yourself dominance/submission relationship. It sort of became my duty to make her climaxes, the climaxes which she craved, contingent on her carrying out increasingly outrageous demands. In a weird, almost scary way, it was fun and exciting, if somewhat childish. I – we – found ourselves falling way, way too quickly, way too deep into the murky waters of sexual excess. And these were places, strange waters I had only ever fantasized about, and even then, in only my wildest, most secret fantasies. I dunno, suddenly we had stepped out of the realm of sexual relationship. Suddenly everything was much more complicated. We were not just becoming addicted to these indulgences – yeah, me, too." I looked up at Matt and shrugged in a sort of what-can-I-say way. "We seemed to be becoming addicted to each other. How we both kept our jobs during that period is beyond me. Perhaps our jobs were our lifelines – the only part of our lives that were still," my fingers drawing quotes in the air, "normal – keeping us tethered to the rest of the world. 

"In any case, the speed at which our burgeoning – whatever: obsession, fixation, mania – whatever was taking off made my head spin. It was all I could do just to hang on. And hang on I did, watching, objectively, as my life – my life and Tillie's, the young woman from the chocolate shop – our lives flourished into a manifest fantasy – real life, real time.

"We both, still, protested our innocence often, declaring with astonishment things like: 'This has never happened to me before.' 'I've never ever felt like this – or behaved like this.' 'It would be frightening if it wasn't so wonderful.' So we continued.

"But it was Tillie much more than me. I'm not trying to duck any blame, but I was more the catalyst. I kept her cooking, kept her craving – sometimes deliberately, sometimes blithely. And with that in mind, it's sort of amazing that it took almost three months to actually take her anally.

"We had been playing Simon Says, again – we did that a lot – and I had her bouncing herself over – or onto – a rather large dildo, while mauling her own tits. 'Simon says lick your own nipple.' Now Tillie didn't have big tits – although I suspected they had gotten bigger during those last couple months, probably due to all the stimulation they had received. Whatever, she couldn't actually reach her nipple – well, only just with the tip of her tongue, lifting her tit from beneath. A cartoon picture flashed through my mind, and I snickered, 'Simon says hook yourself in the ass with your other hand and lift yourself up to meet your lips.' Well, right away, Tillie began pushing a finger into her sphincter. I leaned over and squirted a little KY into her hand, and watched her finger disappear up her butt. That's when the idea hit me. I couldn't figure out why it never had before. I guess I'd just been too busy tasting all the other sweets in the shop, but regardless, I launch into my ad hoc plan.

"'Simon says hold that dildo with your box, and lean forward.' When she'd complied, I went on commandingly. 'Simon says spread your ass cheeks.' I paused just a sec then added, 'Push two fingers into your ass.' I watched, enthralled, as Tillie struggled to follow my directions. Remember, this was not something we had done before. Holding her cheek out with her left hand, she worked the first two digits of her right hand in up to the second knuckles, before I smacked her other cheek, then leaned over to whisper in her ear, 'You didn't wait for Simon to say.'

"'Oh!' she exclaimed, dislodging her fingers hastily and collapsing onto her chest. 'Oh, oh, I...'

"'Now what?' I asked.

"'I have to be punished,' she hissed, barely audibly.

"'That's right,' I replied, giving her beautiful, upturned bum a smack. 'So, for your mistake, you'll need to reach beneath yourself and pump your rubber cock with one hand, while stroking your clit with the other. But you mustn't come until I say.' My already solid erection seemed to stiffen and harden even further, the glans all tight and bright. Leaning over her back, I whispered in her ear, 'I'm going to sodomize you, my sweet,' then, licking the sweat off the back of her neck, I pushed firmly against her backdoor. I heard her grunt, as the residual KY allowed me to slip inside her tight ring. I held there for a moment, bouncing lightly against the resistance. Tillie mewed – due to the anal pressure or due to her building orgasm, I don't know. At that point I didn't really care. I just slowly leaned my weight against her grasping sphincter, and gradually, inexorably began to slide in. Once I had the head lodged fully inside her, I took short, sudden thrusts, retreating slightly in between. I could feel the mass of the dildo through the membrane of her rectum, moving slightly, as she remembered to pump it.

"And then I was in, balls swinging against her knuckles, pubes scouring her crack. 'Keep those fingers moving,' I prompted, 'but don't climax.' I began saw myself slowly – in and out, accelerating ever so slowly, taking longer and longer strokes. Soon, I was thrusting full-length – pulling back until my helmet tugged at the inside tightness of her rosebud, then pushing in, smoothly and steadily, as far as I could go. Tillie began to rock back, meeting me on the in-strokes. I could hear her breathing becoming laboured; I could feel the increasingly heavy strokes of the dildo; I could detect the rapid vibrations of her fingers strumming her clit. Her butt began to quiver, grabbing at me as I pulled back, and trembling violently as I sank in deep. Suddenly her rectal temperature seemed to skyrocket. The tugging and squeezing of her bottom on my throbbing cock ignited an electric charge at the base of my spine. Flashing up behind my eyes the arc seemed to short-circuit, exploding in my loins, and sending torrents of jism splashing and scalding deep into her ass. I almost swooned myself, but that same moment, I heard her gasp and sob, and remembered. 'Simon says COME!' I almost screamed, and the result was instantaneous.

"Tillie writhed and bucked and shrieked and swore. Pushing back against my impaling member, she squirmed her ass against my pubes, her vocal track winding down to a repeated, 'Oh, oh, oh, oh...' Like someone receiving continual electric shocks, her whole body twitched and jerked. I could feel her rectum spasming around my tool. Dripping with sweat, she laid her head down on her arms. Her buttocks, her legs, her shoulders and her back all continued to quiver and shake for long, long minutes. Until at last she went limp. Balancing on her hands and knees, she hung precariously from my stiff cock – still stiff, still planted deeply in her bum.

"'You all right?' I asked softly.

"A satisfied 'Mmmmmm...' was her only reply.

"And on and on we went. Tillie had become like one of those rats, hooked up to pleasure-centre stimulation – totally addicted. She craved it, just like a junkie; she couldn't help herself. While the back of her neck remained her most sensitive trigger, she could be ignited or re-ignited by attention to any one of her erogenous zones. Not only that, but as our experience progressed her whole body seemed to be turning into one big erogenous zone. A touch anywhere; in fact, it got to the point where even just the simple suggestion of a touch, a breath, a threat, could get her fired up. She had become so incredibly hyper-sensitive, that, by the cold light of reality – which neither of us could see at the time – in retrospect, it was destroying her life." I chuckled, wryly, "But what a way to go.

"And I was changing – being changed, too. As much as I loved Tillie – or at least loved to lust for her, I loved the whole – what – situation, I guess – I loved the whole, novel, wild situation more. It became a power thing, and the power went to my head, or to my dick, corrupting any decency it happened upon – any decency or morality or rationality.

"We were past the point of no return and we didn't even know it – in fact we hadn't even considered... though, I suppose I can only really speak for myself – I hadn't even considered that any return to normalcy needed to be an option. So there we were, committed, by chance, to this steep, steep dive into the morass of depravity. Looking back, even from this still quite close perspective, I should have seen the sign: 'Abandon hope, all ye who enter!' 

"We had already done everything either of us had ever fantasized about; now we were onto spontaneous whims, activities and positions we had never, ever considered, even in our wildest dreams." I looked up at Matt, again. He was watching me intently. "You want an example?" I didn't wait for a reply. "Here's an example:

"One time, as a punishment, I don't even remember what the transgression was – not that it matters anyway – it was all bogus. Anyway, this one time I fitted Tillie with a jerry-rigged gag-like harness holding a latex cock in her mouth. I must have thought it up earlier, for I remember I had everything ready, just waiting for her to earn some discipline. A strap, attached to the back of the gag/harness and pulling it tight, ran down her back, along the crack of her ass and up into the front, where it fastened her bound hands to another thick dildo which was insinuated deep into her vagina. Pushing the rubber dong even deeper into her cunt, released, slightly, the pressure on the shaft in her throat, and vice versa. She was instructed to frig herself for fifteen minutes, without coming. If she came too soon, the clock would start again. She lasted about an hour and a half – about eight or nine orgasms. It was bizarre."

I shook my head at the recollection, and sipped my beer. Matt just sat, silently enthralled with my story. "But it gets better – or worse," I interjected, waiting a moment before continuing.

"You know those little butterfly, clitoral vibrator things? I got her one of them with a wireless remote control. I'd sit in the mall, outside her shop, watching her surreptitiously, randomly turning it on. Well, it was random at first. I'd switch it on when no one else was in the store, and watch her deal with her arousal. I'd let her build, then shut it off – especially if a customer came in. It was evil-mean, but it was fun to watch. As soon as the customer left I'd fire it up again and watch her stand stiff behind the counter, quivering through her orgasm.

"Of course, that didn't last long. Soon I was bringing her to the edge, over and over, then leaving her hanging; waiting until she was dealing with customers before letting her – forcing her – to climax. She got plenty of puzzled looks, I'll tell you, suddenly going stiff – shivering and whimpering in the middle of a transaction. I'm sure the customers thought she was having a seizure or something.

"But even that eventually – surprisingly quickly, actually – got boring and predictable; so I replaced the butterfly with a vibrating butt-plug." I amazed myself at how matter-of-fact I was in the retelling of these intimate, kinky details. Matt leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. "The anal stimulation," I explained, "is slower, but more inexorable, and, in the end, more powerful. It was quite a challenge to keep her on the edge for, say, an hour or more, then bring her off at just the right – just the most inopportune moment. I know it sounds almost sadistic, but she would invariably rave about it to me after work.

"One of the last anal orgasms we did at work, she almost collapsed. Her knees went to jelly, and she had to hang onto the counter for support. The customer, a twenty-ish young fellow, thought she was fainting and rushed around the counter to assist her. She wrapped her arms around him and squeezed. 'I was so fucking aroused,' she told me later, 'that I was trying to will him to fuck me. He tried to set me down and asked if he should call for help. I told him that he was all the help I needed, but when I grabbed at the front of his pants he got scared and fled. Shit!'




Liquid Chocolate



"When she got home, on these occasions, we would fuck with such a fury it was almost frightening. But I was missing too much work, sitting in the mall manipulating her, so we went to the next step – a cell, set on vibrate, in a jerry-rigged pocket right up against her clit. I could call it from work, and just let it ring. A couple times I set it vibrating then called the shop phone on another line just to hear her fight to stifle her climatic squeals. I started leaving the clitoral number around in public – you know, 'for a good time call...', and she had to deal with orgasms everywhere – sitting on a bus, standing in line at the grocery checkout, sitting at a coffee bar. I'd have her recount all of her thrills each night." Just talking about it made me feel a little gooey. "Yeah, we were racing down some dark path at break-neck speed, to I-don't-know-where. But you know, it still just felt like naughty fun. It didn't actually seem to be the perversion it sounds like now. And we didn't realize what a slippery slope we were so blithely plunging head-long down.

"I guess things really began to accelerate when, one Saturday afternoon, as we wandered through a downtown park, I got her to remove her bra and panties. I had leaned over and drawn my lips in light fairy-kisses across the nape of her neck. She'd froze. 'Stop it,' she'd hissed, 'you're going to make me come!'

"'Oh, dear,' I'd replied mockingly, not stopping. 'then you'd better take off your panties so's they don't get all slimy, eh?' She protested, but in the end, we'd sat down on a bench, and she'd waited for a lull in the pedestrian traffic, then quickly shucked her knickers. 'Take your bra off too,' I instructed, 'then you can twiddle your nipples, and help your orgasms along.' So there we sat, ostensibly oblivious to the passers-by, me tickling the back of her neck, and her with her eyes closed, not-so-subtly twisting her own nipples, and having one orgasm after another for all to see. To say it was simply titillating is mammoth understatement. I just watched the shock and envy of the spectators, until some jock came up and asked, with a twinkle in his eye, if he could help. We thanked him and moved on. 

"But that scenario was repeated several other times. You'd have thought that her multiple orgasms would have worn her out, but it seemed just the opposite. A couple times we had to find some bushes thick enough to creep into. As soon as we were out of view, I'd flip up her skirt – she usually wore skirts by then, often sans panties – and fuck her doggy-style.

"In fact the last time we did it in the park, after several orgasms on the bench, she flung her jacket onto my lap, unzipped me and pulled out my well-engorged cock. The breeze of midday abruptly inflated it from solidly turgid to steely rigid in mere moments. Tillie then stood, trying to seem nonchalant, and lowered herself carefully onto my erection. It was supposed to look like she were sitting innocently on my lap, but I doubt it did. The slick glove of her cunt sucked me in as she slowly impaled herself fully on my raging hard-on, eliciting impassioned gasps from both of us. Then Tillie – both of us, I suppose – lost control and started thrusting and bouncing frenetically right there on the bench in full public view. I was barely aware of the multitude of strangers whose attentions were drawn by our lustful grunting and writhing. We both came hard and fast, my spunk surging up into her like a geyser. A small smattering of applause, along with the odd declaration of disgust brought us back to reality, so we hastily, separated, and walked purposefully away from the scene, overhearing someone on a cell making a police complaint, as we passed.

"From there our outrages seemed to gather speed. I mean, most of our friends and acquaintances knew we were rather lascivious and lewd, but they didn't know the half of it. At least not until we were at a rather wild party, when somewhere deep into the evening, several of us boys were sitting around the pool table jawing about peeler bars. I don't know what possessed me, but I said, almost indifferently, 'I bet Tillie would do a strip-tease for us right now – if I asked her really nicely.'

"First of all they dismissed me, but one or two said, 'Really? You think she would?' To which, I replied that I was pretty sure I could get her to agree. And before you knew it the whole bunch of them were encouraging me to try.

"I went upstairs, found Tillie, and drew her close, blowing lightly on the back of her neck. As she oooohed softly, I whispered in her ear, 'The boys really, really want you to do a strip-tease for them downstairs. Whad'ya say? You up for it?' She may have been initially aghast at the idea, but I feathered my fingers on her neck and guided her toward the basement door before she could answer. She was moving more numbly than willingly, but the whistling and applause that greeted her at the rec room entrance seemed to energize her. Without a word, I passed her to the reaching arms of a couple buddies, and they boosted her up onto the pool table, which someone had hastily cleared of balls and cues.

"She stood frozen for a moment, scanning the faces of all the guys who had pulled their up chairs to surround the green felt stage. The boys went quiet, and the music, seeping in from the stereo in the corner, began to attach itself to Tillie. Slowly she commenced swaying to its rhythm, as the boys started up a whispered chant, "Tillie! Tillie! Tillie!" Then her tension just dissipated. It was like she'd done it all her life. She strutted provocatively back and forth, smiling seductively, and removing – slowly and gracefully – what few bits of clothing she had. Her attention was riveted to her most appreciative male audience, and whether or not she noticed, she did not acknowledge the gathering of the girls at the door – the women who had come down to investigate why their men had become so suspiciously quiet. Word spread, I guess, so that it seemed to me soon the whole party was crowded around the pool table. While it was not long before Tillie was naked, her spontaneous routine had only just begun. She strutted and gyrated, thrusting herself into the faces of the nearest guys; stroking her long fingers along her slit; pinching and twisting her nipples; swinging about an imaginary pole; doing the splits, then rolling and tumbling about the table. Her gasping and mewing became increasingly impassioned, until she finally rolled over onto her back directly in front of the host, legs spread, feet out, her right hand mauling her breasts and her left furiously frigging herself. Suddenly I knew she was done for.

"Dropping her feet onto the table, she bounced her buttocks feverishly, knees splayed, the fingers of her right hand now a blur against her clit, her left hand stabbing violently into her gaping twat. All the other sounds seemed to fade away beneath Tillie's lusty whimperings, and everyone held their collective breath as wave upon wave of orgasm washed over her like a tsunami. Bucking and shuddering about the felt, she cried piteously over and over. As the quaking climax passed she gradually settled insensate on the slate of the table, still shivering and jerking and mewling.

"Silence descended on the room for a few minutes before the low rumble of conversation rose again, as everyone commented on the spectacle. Tillie was literally blown away. I gathered her up with her clothing and we quietly left. A few people muttered their appreciation, one or two their guarded disgust, and only a few their hushed goodbyes. And that was the beginning of the end. We were never invited to another party – leastways not as a couple.

"Notwithstanding, I guess I had somehow got it into my head that every event, every episode we had had to be one up on the last one – more bizarre, more outrageous. In retrospect, Tillie probably didn't need that – that acceleration. She was finding her Nirvana no matter what we did. The ecstasy, continually experienced, would not likely have diminished had we just stayed the course. And I really don't see how I needed it, either; nonetheless..." I shrugged, feeling, even now, a little nonplussed about the whole thing.

"Once in a while – like, I suppose, most offices – a bunch of us at work would go to a bar on a Friday evening. Some of these guys had witnessed Tillie's erotic strip-tease, and they were forever bringing it up. Their partners wouldn't allow them to even reminisce about it, so it was a popular topic in the bar. Well, one of those times, not all that long ago, actually, I told Tillie what I was doing and quietly suggested she join us. I guess I knew what I was doing – what would eventually happen – I s'pose she did, too – but I deceived myself into thinking the whole thing was innocent.

Anyway, Tillie arrived after we boys had consumed several rounds, so her arrival ignited quite the lewd vein in the conversation, especially as I pulled her onto my lap before she could get a chair of her own. Breathing heavily on her neck, beneath her hair, I stealthily snaked my hand up under her skirt, and held it against her bush, as I gently bounced her on my knee. She tried to ignore me by sipping on her beer and engaging, however she could, in the haphazard conversation flitting around the tables. I persisted, relentlessly, secretly, rubbing her clit with my knuckle, and drawing my fingertips along her moistening gash. I could feel the twitches and jerks of an impending climax running through her. I reveled in her attempts to hide her burgeoning arousal, sadistically holding her down on my lap, letting her feel the hardness of my erection against her ass, through my pants. Slowly, my colleagues clued into what was happening, as I cranked up the speed and intensity of her stimulation, bouncing her savagely, her clit bumping hard against my hand. Grasping her hands with my free hand, I pulled them up under her blouse, placing them against her boobs, where they fastened onto her nipples, tweaking and caressing on their own accord.

"The conversation had ground to a halt, as Tillie, eyes closed, breath coming short and ragged, finally threw back her head and keened through clenched teeth. All eyes burning into her with lust and hunger. Her orgasm hit with such fury I had to clasp her tight, my arm around her waist, to prevent her from throwing herself from my lap. With shudders and squeaks she slowly came off her peak, despite my continued, merciless fiddling at her box. The guys said nothing to start, but nodded appreciatively. Then someone, Mitch, I think, said, with a nervous laugh, 'Jeez, that's hardly fair. Why're you the only one at this table that gets an orgasm, Tillie?' voicing, I'm sure, what was on everyone else's minds. Tillie, met his stare and responded with an embarrassed grin and a shrug. Mitch shook his head in mock disappointment and repeated his complaint that it just wasn't fair.

"'Maybe you could do something about that,' I whispered breathily to Tillie, my head on her shoulder, my lips brushing just behind her ear, my fingers attacking her sex with renewed vigor. 'Think that may be the friendly thing to do?'

"Her breath caught, then came again in short bursts, as she whispered, almost inaudibly, 'Dunno.' Mitch was not the only one to recognize her elevated state of arousal once again. And he was not the only one to be slowly stroking himself through his pants, mouth slightly agape, tongue licking lips, breath becoming laboured.

"'Lookit those poor guys.' I whispered. 'They're horny as hell – me, too – and it's all your fault, y'know.' With that, I released my grip around her waist, and slowly coaxed her to slip off my lap, between my knees, to the floor beneath the table. Pushing her away from me, I lifted my glass, and offered a toast. 'Here's to my Tillie, the best damn cocksucker this side of anywhere.' Everyone murmured their assent and watched as Mitch slid forward in his chair, his eyes going from steely sharp to glassy in the matter of just a few moments.

"We ordered more beer, and sat around drinking and chatting – small talk, nothing profound – ignoring the occasional bump on the underside of the tables, ignoring, too, the one member of the group who'd be slouched low in his seat, sweating and silent, except for the odd groan – and the frequent corresponding low whimper or gasp from beneath. It took just under an hour for Tillie to get back to me, the eighth and final member of the group. I could, at first, feel her bumping my thigh as she bobbed her head in Frank's lap – in the chair next to mine. After a satisfied sigh, his hands lying limp on his lap, I felt my legs being urged apart, as a body insinuated itself between my knees, and fingers pulled at my fly. My throbbing hard-on resisted, then sprung free of the restricting trousers, and was immediately engulfed by the wet warmth of Tillie's soft mouth. I could feel her dripping and drooling down my shaft, quickly soaking my curls. Slowly I slid my hands from the table to entwine them lovingly in the hair over her ears. The satisfied smile that landed on my face, mirrored those of my colleagues, as one by one, they finished their beers, and stood up to leave. 'Thanks, man,' was pretty well all anybody said; and soon they had all left us. I didn't realize that Tillie was now visible to much of the bar.

"I was just about to let go when the bartender came over and said, 'You'd better finish up and get outta her, man, before the cops get here.'

"Reluctantly I disengaged Tillie from my trembling root, and pulled her back up topside. She looked bewildered, limp and exhausted, as I quickly tucked myself in, took her by the arm and guided her to the exit under the watchful eyes and knowing smiles, even the odd whistle and applause of waiters and patrons alike.

"Tillie was back on me, moaning and crying, tearing at my pants and inhaling my prick before I'd even closed the car door. She climaxed when I did, sucking up my jism and swallowing as much as she could, before licking up the spilled remnants. 'Omigod,' she sighed, 'that must be number seven or eight for me, just this afternoon.' And we'd still wring a couple more from her before the night was through. 

"At home, once we'd eaten, I started in on her arousal again. She was insatiable, and I was more than willing to provide, one way or t'other. I brought her to boiling with almost stupid ease, and once she was there, it's sort of like it's contagious. I was pumped and stoked, too, sporting another prodigious erection. Arranging her on all fours, there was little need for words. I positioned myself behind her and speared her with one thrust, sinking my rod deep in her pussy. I hesitated at depth, coating my sword with her fragrant juices, before withdrawing peremptorily. Before she could complain I pushed insistently against her rosebud, felt it give, and slid smoothly balls-deep into her rectum. It was so sweet, so heated, so tight, that I almost blew my load right there. 'Mmmmm,' she purred pushing back against me, and grabbing my dick firmly with her inner sheath. 'Oh-oh-oh. I love it,' she muttered.

"I was in heaven. Slowly I began to withdraw, before plunging in again. In, out, in out, deep, shallow, slow, sudden, it was rapidly becoming more than I could stand, yet, I could feel Tillie's quivers and starts, too. Pulling one another inexorably toward the edge, tremors raced from her fundament up my meaty member to sparkle and flash behind my eyes. Finally, inserting myself fully into her backside, I felt the detonation of liquid explosive rumbling up through my balls and along my steely cock to erupt in gobs of white fire, spraying Tillie deep up her bum, and igniting yet another climax of her own. Holding myself tight between the hot globes of her ass cheeks, I paused, letting my equilibrium return, catching my breath, supporting the limp body of my woman on my still rigid phallus. Prophetically, I announced to the world, 'Whatever else happens, this is mine! No one gets your ass but me.' Tillie, her head drooping from her shoulders, forehead lying on her forearms, just nodded drowsily.

"The oral orgy in the pub became a sort of a 'nudge, nudge. Wink, wink,' source of all manner of innuendo. While the administration was still, I hoped, out of the loop on this, the legend, for legend it quickly became, took on a life of its own, and vaguely, somehow, became something of an unspoken threat to my job – my livelihood.

"And that was just one of my growing concerns. Had I created – created or spawned? – a goddess or a monster? It was becoming harder and harder to tell. Just like chocolate, the more our relationship was handled the softer and more shapeless it became. Until finally it got really messy, but that part comes a little later.

"First came the Friday night poker game. Some of the guys from the office had a poker night every month or so, but I'd never gone. Last time, they not only invited me but were insistent that I join them for the evening. I should have suspected an ulterior motive but, as there was no mention of partners, or of any women attending, I just accepted and went along. Lots of booze was consumed, and lots of money changed hands. I'd taken over two hundred dollars but sometime into the evening I got tapped-out and had to fold. I wasn't the first, and only a short while later, Larry seemed to pull a coup that cleaned out everybody else. The game was over, but it was still relatively early.

"'I've got an idea, guys,' Larry announced, fixing me with his winning smile. 'How about Simon, here, invite that lovely wench of his over.' I just stared at him, wondering what he meant. He hadn't even been at the famous pub night, although he'd undoubtedly heard the story many times in increasingly titillating detail. How did he imagine this playing out? I worked my jaw a bit, but said nothing; neither did anyone else, although their eyes bounced between us like we were playing tennis. 'I'll bet you, Simon, this whole pot against your Tillie coming over here and putting out for us.' He let that sink in for a sec, then added, 'Just give her a call, invite her over; see what she thinks. If she doesn't want to, no harm done, I'll just take my winnings and go home. But if she's agreeable – if she's willing, then you get the pot – it's about $1500 – and we get her for the rest of the evening.' He looked at me almost blandly, then shrugged, 'What do you think? It can't hurt to run it past her, eh?'

"My head was spinning, but I thought, 'What the hell. Let her decide.' I invited Tillie over on the strength of the fact that I'd run out of money, and the pretence that I needed her to drive me home. I figured I'd save the proposition until she was there in the flesh.

"When she arrived, I explained the proposal to her. She was shocked. 'You want me to prostitute myself, like a common whore?' she demanded. I told I had no opinion; that it was completely up to her. She stared into my eyes, silently trying to divine what to do. 'What do you think? Should I do it? Should I?' I just shook my head and shrugged. It had to be her decision – just had to be. Slowly she wrapped her arms around me and laid her head against my chest. Returning her embrace, I reached up with one hand and ever-so-softly stroked the back of her neck. I knew it was a dirty thing to do, but everyone was watching us, awaiting her decision.

"'The opportunity is yours to accept or decline,' I stated, simply. I could feel her tense up – tightening her grip on me. 'It's up to you,' I said, whispering breathily against her skin. She shuddered, pulling me even tighter, rubbing her body against mine. 'It's a lot of cash,' I murmured, not sure if that would be a pro or a con for her. 'It's completely up to you,' I repeated, and she looked up at me with a forlorn, lost sort of look. 'Really!' I insisted, 'Your call.' Bastard that I am, I was willing to let her sell herself, but I wasn't man enough to pimp her, I guess.




Liquid Chocolate



"In any case, she slowly unfolded herself from me and turned to Larry. 'Okay,' she said, in a tiny voice.

"'Okee-dokee!' he cried, pushing the heap of cash over toward us, then leaping up and beginning to push chairs and tables out of the way. 'Better look after that,' he said to me, nodding at the money. I grabbed up an empty liquor store bag and started stuffing. Tillie just stood and watched as Larry threw an afghan and some cushions into the now vacant space on the floor, barking orders right and left. I watched, more than a little stunned.

"Pulling his shirt off, Larry flopped onto the blanket, and announced, 'I'm first!' then casting his gaze onto Tillie he said, 'C'mon over here sweetie and show us what you've got.' Tillie straightened quickly, as if someone had thrown a switch. Shoulders back, tits out, she sashayed over toward him, peeling her top off as she walked. She kicked off her shoes without missing a beat, and, somehow or other, followed her skirt down to the floor, landing with a bump on the afghan just as the skirt whirled off the end of her toes. With no bra to deal with, she ran a hand invitingly over the crotch of her panties, while covering a boob with the other. She looked incredibly cute and seductive, her gaze intent on Larry, who stumbled to get his trousers off and his hands on her all at the same time. The rest of us just stood there – watching – hands moving unconsciously to rub lazily at our own stiffening peckers.

"Flinging himself on his knees, Larry reached out blindly to grasp Tillie's tits, already firm with arousal, the pert nubs of her nipples standing out proudly. Larry proceeded to maul and squeeze while Tillie reached his crotch and began to wrestle and tear at his briefs in order to release his straining manhood. Dropping his hands to her panties, there was a confused tug and tumble that ended with the two of them, underpants in tatters, engaged in full-blown soixante-neuf – she on top. Bobbing and grunting, the sweaty bodies rubbed and writhed against each other in a frenzy of building excitement. Extricating herself abruptly, Tillie scrambled around to straddle Larry's hips, and, without any hesitation, impaled herself on his rampant staff. Fingers playing lightly at his nipples, she rocked forward on her knees then back onto his thighs – forward, back, up and down, off, on. The squishy sounds increased in volume, as their moans and groans grew in intensity. Their rocking congress accelerated until it became a frenzied blur, culminating in one final, solid collision; Tillie's buttocks squashing down hard against Larry's up-thrusted groin, arms entwined, nails squeezing biceps, heads both thrown back, their wailing cries, a haunting dissonance. Tillie collapsed whimpering onto Larry's chest, still, except for tremors running visibly over her thighs and into their conjunction.

"All was silent for a moment, save for the rasping breath of the two participants, then Bill began pulling off his own clothes. 'I gotta get me some o' that,' he announced, sinking to the blanket and lifting the limp form of Tillie while shouldering Larry out of the way. The next while was a miasma of sexual exhibition. Tillie fucked each of us in turn, each with the same unfettered enthusiasm. As I had no desire to be a martyr, I took my turn along with the rest, the last of the first round. 

"In our, albeit brief, post orgasmic lull, I reminded her that her ass was reserved for me alone. 'Don't worry,' she whispered, stifling a coy giggle. Then I felt her being lifted off me, as someone called dibs on seconds, and someone else pushed me aside, muttering marginally sincere apologies. Of course, with each copulation, the level of excitement in the room rose, so that those who had had time to recover – which was basically everybody – were ready to go at it again.

"Round two was rougher and rawer. Any inkling of decorum was torn away. Tillie serviced gallantly two, three, or four cocks at any given time. I had to run shotgun on her ass, insisting it was out of bounds for all but me, and repeatedly shooing away would-be intruders. Blow-jobs, hand-jobs, missionary or doggie, she was constantly flipped about, poked and prodded, but she was also stroked and caressed so that, every once in a while, without warning, she'd explode – wailing and shrieking and convulsing – in a mammoth orgasm. While everyone paused to acknowledge her climax, the moment she slipped from the peak they were back on her. Slick and dripping, her sticky body was twisted and bent to every position, until at last there seemed to be nobody left.

"Tillie lay puddling and panting on her back in the middle of the matted afghan. 'Looks like we've pretty well had, all of us, eh?' People nodded and I winked, adding, 'all except me.' With that I laid down beside Tillie and began nibbling her nipples, while stroking her sopping cunt. She reached down lazily, found my semi-turgid member, and began stroking some life back into it. Once I was hard, I looked around. Only Jon and Larry seemed to be coming around for a third – or was it fourth – go. 'Let's make this a real finale,' I said, and directed Larry to take my place, supine next to Tillie. Hoisting Tillie up, I set her astride his belly, as he fed his still stiffening rod up into her dripping snatch. 'Jon,' I directed, 'get up there, beside Larry's head, and feed our lovely lover your meat-scicle.' Jon obliged quickly. Then, placing myself between Larry's outstretched legs, and lining up with Tillie's delicious ass, I grabbed a handful of the natural lubricants being squeezed out at Larry and Tillie's juncture, and spread it liberally around Tillie's rosebud. Wiping the surplus onto myself, I centred my swollen glans on her sphincter and began a long, slow insertion until I was full insinuated into her bowel.

"'Okay you guys,' I announced, drawing everyones attention, 'this is it. Let's make it good.' With that, the three of us began thrusting. Raucous and reckless at first, we soon found a nice rhythm, rolling and pushing, one orifice then another, all in turn, we rocked on, accelerating gradually, until we were pounding Tillie from one climax to the next. On her third or fourth climax, Larry erupted triggering yet another peak in Tillie; and it was that last one than pulled both Jon and me over the edge. Emptying our balls into her at opposite ends, we lost our integrities, got wobbly, and collapsed onto the two of them – Tillie and Larry.

Within minutes, drained and stunned, everyone was back into some state of dress, and taking their leave. Tillie was almost unconscious when I wrapped her into the afghan, gathered her clothes and our cash, and bundled her into the car. Looking down on her smeared, exhausted body, as I carried her into the house, I noted a faint, but unmistakable smile touching her lips.

"I had read this interesting fact somewhere, once, and it took me a while to realize it was true; but it was, for while I was definitely the dominant partner and Tillie the submissive, ultimately, it was she who controlled the relationship. It was her responses that dictated how far we could, or should go. She made unspoken, implicit demands. I merely arranged them. I delivered them. Yeah," I smiled wryly, and shrugged, "I know this sounds suspiciously like passing the blame, but, you know, we wouldn't have progressed so far, so fast had she not allowed it. Simple as that! 

"Where else could we go – where could we go from there? I suppose in the contrived gang-bang I had opened, once again, some abstract barn door. So, of course, I eventually caught her cheating – several times – if you could call it cheating. I mean, cheating implies some intent to deceive, doesn't it?" I shrugged, again, reflecting on my almost constant state of bemusement, at this point. "Whatever." I really didn't know any more – couldn't know, it seems. "Anyway, I guess I suspected it would happen sooner or later. I mean, it was really inevitable, wasn't it? Yet, as huge as the changes in Tillie's sexuality had been – her attitude, her personality, her soul – she hadn't changed that much in her demeanour – her presentation. Notwithstanding, she exhibited kind of subtle signs of a flourishing libido. Not that she dressed sluttily, but there was a definite erotic glow about her, all of the time." I paused to take a sip, and control my breathing, as I could feel agitation pulling at me, even before I said what I knew came next. 

"Then, one day, when she arrived home from work, she seemed to be even more glowy than usual. I remarked on this, trying to keep my voice neutral. She swung around, gave me a full, sensuous kiss, then turned to hang her jacket. 'You know,' she said casually, 'how I've told you that Jerry, my boss, often makes suggestive, lewd comments. Well, today as I was locking up, he said something about it being a shame I couldn't hang around a while; how he'd sure love to ice my cake. I told him that I had to get home to you, as it was Friday, and he looked so sad.' She made a funny, pouting face before continuing. 'I thought, what the hell, so I said coyly, Maybe I could just offer you a sample. I don't know how serious I really was to start, but he invited me into his office and tried to kiss me while pawing at my chest. I laughed and pushed him away, but somehow my fingers ended up hooked into the front waist of his pants. You ought to have seen his eyes as I sank to a crouch before him, my eyes staying on his face.'

"By this time, I could feel myself flushing, sweating, getting, perhaps unreasonably, angry. But she went on, apparently oblivious to my reaction. 'Without taking my eyes off his,' she recounted, seductive even in the retelling, 'I lowered his fly and fished out his stiffening cock. He's a bit bigger than you, but wasn't nearly as solid, at least not yet. Teasingly, I rubbed his head on my chin, and asked him what he thought I should do. He could hardly speak. Suck it, he'd hissed, please, just suck it. Well, what else could I do, the poor guy? So I licked it a few times then slowly put it in my mouth. 'Shall I just give you a quickie blow-job? I asked, knowing the answer already.' He had, of course, she recounted, accepted immediately. 'Just there, in his office,' she'd said, almost innocently. 'Just before we went home. It only took a few minutes. He wanted more but I said you were waiting. So now I'm horny as hell.' She had begun to unbutton my shirt, brushing her lips across mine. I stood wooden, not wanting to respond, and, when she had finally gathered that I was seething, she had stepped back, still holding me by the collar. 'Why are you so upset?' She was genuine; she really didn't understand. I sputtered and fumed, unable to say anything. She cocked her head, puzzled. 'It's only all right if you arrange it?' she asked.

"'I didn't say that,' I spluttered, 'but I want to know about it.'

"'That's why I'm telling you now, silly,' she replied, giving my crotch a squeeze, as she snaked her tongue down my throat. Dropping to her knees, right there in the foyer, she raised her eyes and lowered my fly. 'There's no need to feel jealous, Sweetie,' she cooed, just before she inhaled my stiffening member. I could think of no response, so I just stood there, allowing her magic mouth to sweep away all the anger and jealousy. Cupping my hands over her head, I drew butterfly wings with my fingers down the nape of her neck. I knew what would happen, but I couldn't help myself.

"Not all that many days later, Tillie arrived home with her panties all ripped and torn, and her pussy dripping, causing a wet spot to appear ideally placed in the front of her flowing skirt. That's what I first noticed. 'What the fuck happened to you?' I asked, trying to keep my voice free of rancour.

"'Well,' she said, an impish sparkle radiating from her face, 'you know I had that interview downtown this afternoon?' I nodded, impatient for the bad news. 'Well, it was almost at the top floor of this tower. When I got back on the elevator to come down, there was this young businessman already on. He kinda leered at me, so I winked back at him, then he grabbed my ass. When I turned calmly to face him, instead, I s'pose, of snapping around and slapping him, as I think he expected – for his other hand was already in position to deflect incoming blows – he grabbed my boob and planted a sloppy kiss on my lips. It was nice, especially after a stressful interview, so I didn't protest. And he was a pretty good kisser, so I returned his tongue. He held me tight as the doors opened and closed for the lobby, then we descended down to the lower garage. Come, he said. I followed him, to a back corner of the parking level.

"'Without another word, he lifted me and plopped my down seated on the hood of this luxury sedan – something Italian I think, Masserati, maybe. Anyway, kissing me again, he reached under my skirt and pulled my panties aside with such gusto they tore. Then he leaned in and under and began to eat me like there was no tomorrow. Well, I'll tell you, I started coming like a freight train – multiple climaxes strung together into one long orgasm. It was such a release. I didn't realize how stressed I'd been.' I listened without response. On the one hand, I felt furious – betrayed once more – but on the other hand, I felt so turned on by her relating the incident. Of course, by this time, she was clasping my chest firmly against her still pumped bosom, her hands inside my shirt, dancing over my nipples, rubbing her groin against my growing erection, and transferring the damp from her skirt to my pants.

"'After munching on me for ages, he suddenly stood, dropped his fly, and shoved a raging hard-on, almost brutally, into me. If I hadn't been so soaking wet, it probably would have been uncomfortable, but as it was...' She got a dreamy look in her eyes, as she drove her tongue between my lips to fence briefly with mine. 'He pounded me with short, sharp strokes but didn't really last long. Groaning softly, he slammed against me and stiffened. I was ready, though, climaxing with him as he pumped me full of sperm.

"'He still hadn't said anything, and silently, abruptly he pulled out, not even glancing at me as he stuffed his wilting meat back into his pants. Then another voice said, Oh, it's you, Mr. C. I thought it might be intruders, or something. I propped myself up on my elbows, to see a security guard, nightstick ready, watching, as Mr. C moved to the driver's door and clicked the locks. It's all right, Frank, he muttered, then turning to me he said, Thanks. Gotta go. Off you get. I barely had time to gather my skirt and step aside before he roared out of the slot and off around the corner.

"'I ended up standing there in a vacant underground parking garage, next to this security guard who was trying to stifle his idiotic grin whilst idly swinging his baton. Powerful man, he observed staring down the empty aisle. Just for fun, I grabbed his billy-club and started stroking it; You don't look so wimpy yourself. Let's see what you can do with that thing, I teased, pulling it from his hand and feeding it up under my skirt. His eyes nearly popped! No kidding!' She laughed, and played another brief tonsil hockey scrimmage, before continuing. 'Rashly, I know, I inserted the end of his billy into my pussy and lowered myself slowly. His jaw seemed to follow me down, then, as I unzipped him and wrestled his cock out into the air, he almost went apoplectic. Settling onto the polished phallus, I leaned forward and took him wholly into my mouth. It was so delicious, bouncing gently on the ebony truncheon and swallowing his ever-lengthening pecker deep into my throat, but it was really only moments before he started to twitch and jerk. I pulled him deep, pushing down on his club, my lips touching his pubes and his handle touching mine. I had a modest climax as he shot his gobs of come directly down my throat. He withdrew; and I rose off his weapon, catching it and lifting it to his face so's he could sniff it. I licked my lips, to collect the spillage that wasn't there, shook out my skirt, and handed him the nightstick. There you be, sir, I said, then walked to the elevator, without looking back.

"She told me all this, so matter-of-factly, it was distressingly confusing. Should I be enraged at her indiscriminate promiscuity, or just vicariously enjoy her adventures?" Once again, all I could do was shrug. Matt watched me intently, without responding to my, albeit rhetorical, question. I took another swig of beer before jumping into the conclusion of my sordid history.

"Most recently, though, was Tillie's piece de resistance. I came home to find her bound and gagged on the bed, her eyes sparkling, and her ass dripping with come. 'Oh Christ!' I cried, scrambling to release her. But as soon as I'd gotten the gag removed she cried out, half laughing, half panting, 'Tease me, first, you idiot! Tease me good! Then fuck the shit out of me!' 

"'Who did this?' I shouted.

"'Charles, our neighbour,' she replied coyly. 'I asked him to.' I guess she saw my look a pure astonishment. 'I wanted to surprise you.' Tillie went on to explain how she'd more or less seduced the neighbour, directing him to tie her up, 'as a surprise for you,' she insisted.

"'Did he fuck you, too?' I asked, still a little too loudly.

"She smiled her winningly fuckable smile. 'I could hardly ask him to help with dessert without letting him lick the bowl, now, could I?'

"'But...' I stammered, 'You let him – you let him come in your ass – in my ass?' I could feel a sort an irrational rage building in my gut.

"'I forgot to tell him,' she giggled, 'before he secured the gag. Sorry!' She laughed and batted her eyes. 'But he was so eager to sample my delights – cute, really. And by the time he lined up at my back door, he had already seen me in the throes of orgasm. So, it's easy to see how he mistook my vigorous head-shaking for just another approaching climax. Don't you think?' The twinkle in her eye was, at once, delightful and infuriating. 'But, hey,' she cooed, 'you're more than welcome to seconds!' She spoke like it was just some little unavoidable, completely understandable error. And maybe it was, but at that point I surely couldn't see it.

"An illogically heated fury seethed in my veins. I jammed the ball gag back into her mouth, cinching the straps maliciously tight, then I pushed viciously into her; first pounding spitefully into her cunt, before plunging mercilessly, sadistically into her gaping ass, spewing the neighbour's sperm down her crack and over her buttocks. My erection was so inflated it felt like it was about to split its own skin. Never before had I felt so hard. Trying to punish her, I sawed at her ass brutally, trying to rip her, trying to hurt her. Yet, Tillie loved it, climaxing again and again. And every orgasm she had felt to me like a slap – she was rubbing my face in it. With every thrust I got madder – more brutal. I'd completely lost it. And she went on blithely, like..." I chuckled. Here I was, a couple months after the fact, still getting myself all riled up again. All bent out of shape about what was basically water under the bridge – and, in retrospect, it probably all had been as inevitable as water under the bridge. I took a few deep, calming breaths. I really had to lighten up. "...yeah, blithely, like the EveryReady Bunny with its batteries in backwards, she just kept coming and coming and coming! 

"I thumped and pounded; twisting her within her restraints; out of her ass, into her cunt, out of her cunt, back up her ass, stabbing her repeatedly with my fleshy sword – pulling out and pushing in, blindly. And finally, having, no doubt, worn her orifices raw – certainly I was more than a bit tender – I came savagely in her bottom. Dampened but not extinguished, my rage gathered energy anew. Abruptly, uncaringly, I whipped myself out of her bum, unfastening the gag at the same time, and, scrambling ungainly, I pushed meanly between her panting lips, filling her mouth with my ass-soiled meat, demanding she clean me and threatening her with dire consequences if I felt teeth. With anger still fueling my ire, my passion built again. My cock regained its full tumescence as she laved it obediently, and without warning, I came, again, hard – hard and deep – down her throat – causing her to cough and gag.




Liquid Chocolate



"Leaving her still bound, I showered and changed, and then sat, allowing myself to cool down, before releasing her. But poor Tillie, having come down from her high, sweaty and come-soaked, started shivering as I untied her. Looking small, and cold, and frightened, and confused, something changed as I lifted her off the bed. Suddenly overwhelmed with the enormity of the situation – what I had done, what I had thought – I enfolded her into my arms and pressed my lips to her damp and matted hair. "Oh my God," I muttered, holding her tight, "What have we done?"

"After that, we tried to tone it down, goodness knows; but Tillie, it seems, was hopelessly addicted to sex – especially directed sex, and the climaxes it generated. I knew she was off the wagon – I doubt she ever really got on it. And she expressed less and less remorse at each subsequent transgression. "You brought me to this," she complained, "You can't, now, keep me from it!" We tried to work it out, talking for hours and hours– ad nauseum, it seemed at the time, though it was probably no more than three weeks – time was, during that period, no more than a foggy blur. We discussed the difficulties of our strange reality, looking for solutions but never really finding any that weren't, in Tillie's mind, untenably restrictive. It seems I had molded, over the course of just under a year, this incredibly wild, sexually outrageous creature; but now she was melting.

"Finally, just over two months ago, she left. I came home and found her closet empty and her belongings gone – no note; no nothing; not yet; not ever, I don't doubt. She'd just gathered up her stuff and vanished. Like liquid chocolate, she ran through my fingers and was gone." I suddenly felt grief-stricken and bereft all over again. "Yeah, gone," I added wryly, "leaving me with nothing but a sticky mess on my hands."