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Plan C

By: Kylie_X



Copyrighted by Kylie and protected by common sense and good manners. Intended for adults only! Synopsis: Nineteen year old Kylie is black, beautiful, and eager to lose her virginity, but can she somehow talk Jamie, a handsome, but married white man who works for her dad, into breaking her cherry? If you want to drop me a comment or suggestion, try the link below.



"Oh, don't this to me! Not now...Not today." I groaned. "Please?"

Begging wasn't going to help. There's something about me and cars that doesn't mix and everyone knows it. It's kind of a joke amongst my family and friends, but not a very funny one in my opinion. They just don't like me for some reason. Cars I mean. My friends and family, they like me just fine, or I guess they do since I'm always calling one of them for help.

I was halfway from home, which was what I still called my parents' house in the suburbs, to the university downtown where I was going to school. I had a dorm room and I stayed there during the week, but weekends I usually went home. Now it was Monday morning, just around nine-thirty, cause I was always running late, and my car died. I'd managed to get it to the side of the road anyway and I called Triple-A, cause Daddy had signed me up after the first dozen times I'd had flats, dead batteries, keys locked in the car, overheated radiators, a broken window once, suspicious noises, bad fuel pumps, bad alternators, and just about anything else you can think of...All in cars that worked perfectly well when other people drove them.

Anyway, Triple-A could get a tow truck for me, but it would be two hours cause everyone was having a bad Monday morning apparently. I didn't have two hours, at least not for sitting around by the curb watching the world go by and trying to fend off the Good Samaritans who might be good, or might not be. Being an attractive, nineteen year old black girl was a lot like wearing a bulls-eye, according to my dad, who tended to point out every bit of bad news he came across involving young women and dangerous situations. I tend to trust people a little more than he does, but I'm not a father either, so I guess he has a right to worry. 

The one time I'd accepted help from a man, a stranger who couldn't start my car but had given me a lift to a Seven-Eleven, my dad had read me the riot act after I'd told him what had happened. He made me promise that if I couldn't get Triple-A to help me, that I'd call him, or someone I knew, and just sit tight and wait. No strangers giving me rides, yes daddy, I'd promised, and as much as that chafed my grown-up opinion of myself, I had to admit it was probably good advice. There are a lot of weirdoes around, even in Minnesota, believe it or not.

"Good morning, A-1 Plumbing this is..."

"Lonnie!" I said into my celphone, "Is my dad there?"

"Kylie? Yeah, hold on..." She really did put me on hold too and I rolled my eyes to the sound of Henry Mancini's Pink Panther theme.

"Kylie? What's wrong?" My dad's deep baritone burst through a moment later, making me wince. He was too loud when he got excited.

"Guess." I gave him a wry laugh. "I need a ride to school."

"Shoot." I could hear my dad's frown. "I just had that car checked out last week. What did you do to it?"

"Me?" I asked incredulously. "It's a car, dad. Triple-A is going to tow it in a couple hours, but I need to get to my classes now."

"Yeah, yeah okay. Where are you?" He asked, and after I told him, "Alright, I've got Jamie heading to Brooklyn Center for a job; you're going to be right on his way. Just sit tight until he gets there, okay?"

"Okay dad." I agreed, like what else was I gonna do?

"I mean it, stay in the car and lock the doors, Kylie."

"Dad...It's nine o'clock in the morning, all the rapists are sleeping." I sighed.

"It's not funny, girl." My dad warned me.

"I'm not laughing, man." I said, feeling a little cross actually because I didn't need a lecture over a celphone.

It was quiet for a second. "Alright, I know. Just...Take care of yourself. Have Jamie give us a holler on the radio when he picks you up."

"Okay, Daddy." I softened. "I'm just having a Monday, you know."

"Yeah." He actually chuckled. "Me too. You tell them to take the car to Mel's? He can fix whatever he missed last week for free, that lousy..."

"Yeah, I told them, Dad. I love you." I was on a first name basis with the Triple-A people by then.

"Love you too." My dad said, waiting for me to hang up first, as usual. Like there might be a last second cry for help he didn't want to miss.

My dad. And they talk about over-protective moms?

I did wait in the car, but only cause it was a little brisk outside. I was like in no-man's land between suburbs, the small strips of land that were divvied up, but still undeveloped. It was kind of bleak, actually, and if you weren't from around there you'd never know I was sitting in the middle of about half a million people, with Eden Prairie a few miles behind me and Minnetonka a few miles ahead of me. I didn't know if I was lucky or not that I'd decided to avoid the highways. It didn't matter anyway; Jamie was coming to get me.

That wasn't a bad thing by any means, although I kind of wished the circumstances were different. I'd had a little crush on him since, ohhh God, I was fourteen or so? Yeah, when I was 14 years old and he'd started working for my dad, I'd taken a real liking to Jamie. He was taller than me by a few inches, probably about six feet, a little more maybe, and healthy; kind of a brawny guy with broad shoulders and big chest. Nice butt too. He didn't look like your stereotypical plumber, in fact neither my dad nor any of his employees did. They all looked like regular guys, some of them handsome, some of them not so handsome, but they didn't walk around with their asses hanging out of their pants, you know?

Jamie, with his blonde crew-cut hair and piercing blue eyes, was definitely on my handsome list. It was his smile as much as anything else that did it, a genuine infectious grin that told me everything was alright with the world. Jamie was here and it was all okay. He made my little heart go pitter-patter when I was fourteen, and fifteen and...You know, he still got my motor running five years later, although he was married now, with a wife and no kids, but soon maybe. It had kind of broken my heart actually, the way it will to a girl when she has to realize her secret crush loves someone else. But I'd grown up a little by then, well, very little as I'd always been spoiled, obviously.

Not that we could have had anything; that was a serious dream. For one thing Jamie worked for my dad, so that would have put me off limits right there for most people. A bigger reason, and one that made even less sense actually, was that Jamie is white and I'm black. I didn't even know if Jamie liked black girls, well, I mean I knew he liked me and my mom, and my sister, sure, he liked us just fine, but would he love a black girl? I didn't know. 

I wasn't supposed to love anybody but a black guy, I knew that much. My parents had drummed that into me for quite a while. Starting back in high school I was always being asked about boys, black boys that I knew at school. Who I liked and if I was going to get a boyfriend and all of that. I've always been pretty, more than pretty really, so my parents knew it was coming and they were trying to stay ahead of it, somehow. My dad figured if he was upfront about expecting me to be asked out, I'd be upfront and bring the boy home to meet him, see? It probably would have worked out real good if I'd ever met a black boy I liked well enough to date.

But I don't like black guys and so...I never brought one home.

That's not to say I didn't have boyfriends. I did, three of them in fact, from the time I sexually awakened at fourteen until I was a senior in high school, although not at the same time obviously. They were all white and cute and, mmmm...I did think I was in love every time, but that's part of life. You meet people and learn about yourself and others, it helps you grow, and sometimes you find out that what you really need or want is someone else. Falling in and out of puppy love is how we find real love; all that joy and pain is just...Necessary.

Anyway, I'm getting off the subject because my mind wandered while I was waiting for Jamie to come rescue me. I just wanted to explain why a lot of people, most people, had no idea about the real me. Least of all my parents or my dad would have sent someone else to pick me up, probably. Aside from some of the kids at school, the only one who knew was my younger sister, and she wasn't telling.

"Hey Kylie, did you break it?" Jamie teased me, leaning out the window with his big grin as he parked the A-1 Plumbers van just behind me.

"Yeah, I guess so." I smiled back, shrugging my backpack over my shoulder as I got out of my car. "It's got gas and the radio works, I know that much."

"Well, hop in, I'll get ya where you need to go." He leaned over to open the passenger door for me. "Got everything you need?"

"Yep." I nodded, pulling myself in and pushing my bag behind the seats towards the cargo area. "Why do you have a mattress in the back of the van?"

"Huh?" Jamie looked over his shoulder.

The van was full of tools and pipes and PVC tubing and all kinds of plumbing stuff. I was familiar with all of it, having grown up riding around in those vans, but I'd never seen a mattress in one and it was pretty strange.

"Oh, uh..." Jamie made a face. "...My couch is a little too small."

"Your couch?" I tilted my head, really not getting it at first, but finally it clicked. "Oh, Jamie, Brenda didn't kick you out, did she?"

"It's just for a couple nights; don't tell your dad, okay?" Jamie looked really embarrassed so I just nodded and let it drop. "Thanks."

He found his smile again and I let the man have it, since it wasn't really any of my business anyway. It had to suck though, sleeping on a mattress in the back of a van. Obviously Jamie was really feeling bad too, if he hadn't gone to one of his friends for a place to stay. He could have talked to my dad, our house was huge and I wasn't even using my bedroom during the week. Jamie could sleep in my bed and...That was kind of a tingly thought and I worked to clear my mind. It wasn't my business.

My dad had twelve guys working for him and eight vans like this one, plus a panel truck he used for construction work, which kept three of his guys busy on one job, but paid real good. Guys like Jamie usually worked alone, unstopping sinks and fixing leaks and stuff like that. It was a real good business and my dad, even charging competitive rates like he did, made a very good living at it. Enough to put me through college, easily. So his guys made pretty good money too and giving me a lift to school was just one of those little inconveniences that they had to put up with from time to time.

"You don't have to rush, I'm already way late." I looked at my watch. "Unless you need to rush, I mean...Uh...That sounds dumb." I laughed at myself. "Sorry."

"What?" Jamie laughed too. "That's cool. No, I'm in no rush. I just thought you were going to be late."

"Well, I was, but now I am, so..." Jamie always flustered me, when we were alone and my felt my face turning warm.

"I see." He nodded and I could feel his foot easing off on the accelerator.

"So, uh...Thanks for picking me up." I brushed some imaginary black hair out of my eyes, but it was just a nervous habit. 

I like my hair straight, even though it is pretty kinky anyway, but I get it permed and wear it around my shoulders usually. It looks good like that and people like it, but right then I had it in cornrows, a whole lot of long thin ones, braided real tight with cord that looked like silver filigree. My sister had talked me into it, and my mom had paid for it, so I'd tried it, being a little afraid that I'd look silly. I hadn't had my hair in cornrows since I was about twelve, but it had turned out pretty good. They just felt a little weird for the first few days. 

"It's my pleasure, believe me." Jamie gave me a look and I almost thought I saw something there, but I was afraid I was just wanting to.

"Do you like my hair?" I asked him a minute later, just to stop the silence. It was making me feel awkward.

"Ahhh..." Jamie nodded. "...I thought there was something different about you."

"Oh, no!" I giggled.

"I'm kidding, yeah, I love it, Kylie." Jamie smiled. "You look great. You always do."

"You think so?" I bit my bottom lip a little. "It doesn't make me look too..." I took a deep breath. "...Black?"

"What?" He laughed then. "Uh, not any more than you already are, nope."

"Aw, come on, you know what I mean." I mocked a small pout. "You're sure it's okay?"

"Kylie, you're about the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, black, white, or any other color. Your hair looks fine."

"Oh." I blinked at his compliment.

"What? You don't believe me?" Jamie looked at me closely as we stopped at a traffic light.

"No, I mean...Yeah." I laughed nervously. "I just, um, I didn't know you ever noticed."

"Heh." Jamie chuckled. "You aren't supposed to know."

"Why?" I asked with a smile, thinking he was teasing me.

"Well, you're the boss' daughter for one thing." Jamie started driving as the light changed. "I don't think he'd be too keen on some plumber checking out his little girl."

"You mean a white plumber?" I asked him, unsure of my reasons exactly, but probably fishing for his opinion on the subject.

"Uhhh...I don't know about that, one way or the other, but I'm pretty sure he thinks you could do better than a pipe fitter, you know?"

"Yeah, I know." I had to agree, because my dad did like to talk about me finding a nice young medical student, or some boy attending law school maybe. 

"Anyway...How'd we start talking about this?" Jamie laughed.

"You were telling me how beautiful I am." I smiled at him. "I've always, um..."

"What?" He was smiling back and there was something going on between us, like that electric feeling you get sometimes, and it was giving me goosebumps.

"I just always wanted you to notice me." I said, swallowing hard. "And like me, you know?"

"I've always liked you and, yeah, I noticed you lots of times, Kylie." He shook his head. "Just don't go telling your dad, okay? I need the job."

"He wouldn't fire you." I rolled my eyes. "Not unless you really did something and I wouldn't tell him anyway."

That hadn't come out exactly the way I'd meant it to, I realized a second later, and I think Jamie and I were both trying to decipher exactly what I'd just said.

"Uh, right." Jamie kind of shook his head as if to clear it. "Where is that college of yours anyway?"

"I just meant, um..." I felt my heart stammering and I had an urge to confess. I don't know why, but I did and so... "I've had a crush on you since I was fourteen."

"What?" Jamie turned to look at me then, narrowing his eyes for a second before looking back at the road. "Okay, well, fourteen is like that."

"It didn't go away." I said and I felt like I was just opening up my chest, and he could see my heart and really hurt it if he wanted. I was so scared.

"Kylie..." He chuckled weakly.

"I mean, I know you're married and all, working for my dad, but..." I swallowed hard. "...Do you ever think about me?"

"We're not going to talk like this." Jamie told me gently. 

"I'm not a child anymore." I looked at him, sitting up straight with my large firm breasts pushed out, really posing for him and we both knew it. "If we like each other, why can't we talk about it?"

"Because I'm married." Jamie said quietly, driving slowly, keeping his eyes straight ahead. "Because you're the boss' daughter."

"I can keep a secret." I promised him.

"Kylie..."

"I've had three boyfriends." I was talking fast now, wanting to convince him. "They were white guys, Jamie."

"...I love my wife." He looked at me then and I was hurting him.

"She's making you sleep in the back of a van." I said and you have no idea how much I regretted saying those words the second they fell from my lips. "I'm sorry."

I looked down at my hands and I wasn't sitting so straight anymore.

We didn't speak for the rest of the ride, which was only another seven or eight minutes anyway. I was pretty sure I'd made Jamie angry and I knew I'd embarrassed myself. Even if he had liked me before, he didn't now. What did I expect? What did I think was going to happen? Jamie was going to fall all over himself professing his undying love for me? God, I really was just a child and I wished I could crawl into a hole and die or something.

"Jamie...I'm sorry." I hesitated before I got out and he reached for my bag, handing it to me. "I shouldn't have said what I did."

"It's okay, Kylie." He nodded and even smiled, but it just made me feel worse. "I understand, I really do."

"Yeah." I sighed, but I didn't believe him. Nobody could understand.

"We're alright." Jamie said and his voice was soothing, but I was already getting out.

"Thanks for the ride." I closed the door and I was glad I didn't start crying until he pulled away.

I walked to my dorm, thankfully not seeing anyone I knew along the way. I wasn't in the mood to try and pretend like nothing was wrong, or to be cheered up, or given a sympathetic shoulder. I just wanted to be alone and when I got to my room I flopped on my bed, looking up at my collage of Johnny Depp, who is about the most beautiful man in the world. It was a bunch of photos all cut up and assembled and taped to the ceiling. He was serious in some of them, silly in others, even unrecognizable in a couple, except for his eyes. Johnny's eyes were always the same and I just looked up and wished I wasn't so stupid.

I actually had sort of a shrine to handsome white men in my little dorm room. It was mine, afterall, and the one place I knew my parents would never see. So I had some real Playgirl centerfolds hanging up here and there, not because I was seriously into pictures of naked guys, but just because I could. They were nice to look at anyway, muscular white men with large thick cocks between their legs. Handsome men too, beautiful men, like Jamie and that just made it worse.

I knew I wasn't 'in love' with Jamie. I had feelings, yeah, but I knew it wasn't true love; it was just infatuation and lust. Sure, I wanted to have sex with him. I'd had three boyfriends but I'd never done it, that's the thing. I'd let my last boyfriend steal third one night when I feeling especially good, but that had been a one time deal and it had frightened me a little. He had long fingers and a lot of energy, so I'd distracted him with what had become my own unique method of birth control, at least that's what I'd told my girlfriends it was, because I was always too clever for my own good and didn't want them to think I was a virgin. 

I'd gone down on my boyfriend, sucking his white cock the best I knew how, making him forget all about what was between my legs. Seventeen year old boys don't have brains that can focus on much more than one thing at a time, thank God, and when it feels good they don't want to stop til it's over. I'd been sucking white cock since I'd gotten my first boyfriend at fourteen, which sounds shockingly young when I say it now, but at the time it hadn't seemed so terrible. It had impressed the kid a lot, and me too since I had no idea I'd end up loving it as much as I do.

Something about getting on my knees for a white guy, even a fifteen year old like my first boyfriend, and worshipping his cock...Mmmm, that's something I can do all night long. Unfortunately, God put all the magic buttons someplace else, a little lower, and by the time I got to college I felt the emptiness between my thighs. I needed a man to love me, or at least fuck me, and not just any man, but a white man. One that I liked enough to give my virginity to and still be able to respect myself for it afterwards. I wanted a man who would appreciate it too, you know? Was that asking for too much? Was it so totally wrong of me to imagine Jamie being that man, married or not, employee or not; did any of that matter? 


Plan C, Inception



This story was an experiment. We've been reading stories on Literotica for some time, but this is the first erotic story that we've ever written. We hope you enjoy the story as much as we've enjoyed the works of other Literotica authors.

If you're looking for a fuck-me-now story, this isn't it. There are some cliff hangers here, but it isn't intended to be a tease. If you like a slow burn, and a bit of suspense, then if you stick with the series we think you'll be glad you did. You'll also find that it also isn't your typical cheating wife story, but we're not making any promises about how things turn out either! As many others have said, if you don't like the genre, style, or subject matter, then we hope you find one you do.

_Update_

We've fixed one or two minor errors based on reader feedback. We've also changed the title so it's clear that there is more to come. Thanks for your comments, especially from the people who are able to give constructive criticism without being mean about it. For those folks who said that the transition was too abrupt, we'll just say that you may be assuming something we've only implied. You'll have to read Phase 1 to see what that means. 

******

Sarah looked at her watch. Almost eight. Over the last hour and a half she had gone from bemused to annoyed to pissed off to hurt and back again several times. Right now she was just feeling resigned. Her mobile rang. "Hi, baby. I am so so sorry. Jack had a couple of things to go over with me, and then I needed to catch the rest of the team before they went off to party."

She decided to play it cool. After all, it was rare to have this time away from the children; why spend those precious moments arguing? "It's OK, I'll get over it. I'm sure you can find a way to make it up to me."

She said this with a light wink in her voice -- thinking that would get him out of the corporate office and over to the hotel lounge just that much quicker. Maybe they'd still have time to have a couple of drinks together before the concert started. She had just about salvaged the situation in her mind when Cedric ruined it again. "So, yeah.. that's just it. I'll have to make it up to you later tonight. In bed."

The wink in his voice landed like a lead balloon. He may have been shooting for "cool and alluring paramour" but he landed on "expectant and horny spouse". Sarah found herself moving past pissed off and hurt to quietly enraged as she listened to Cedric drone on. "You see, the VP for Operations -- you know that Tom guy I was telling you about on the plane? -- kind of an asshole, but he holds a lot of sway around here, and it turns out he's going out drinking with the gang tonight. You know I just can't miss this opportunity to present the ideas I've been working on for meshing production and logistics. OK? Now, I know this is probably going to piss you off, but you have to understand that this is the whole reason we're on this trip in the first place. Right, sweetie? Sweetie?"

She was debating whether to go with Plan A: "Hang up, go up to the room, find a chick flick on the TV and pout" or Plan B: "Launch in to a full-on tirade, unloading the last six months worth of accumulated demerits right then and there" when an inspiration hit. Plan C: "Ah, that's OK, honey. There is plenty to keep me occupied here."

"Oh, ok.. great." Was he really going to get off that easily? "Well, I'll um.. see you later then. I'll try not to be too late, sweetie." Two or three beats and the barb hooked. "Wait, what do you mean, 'plenty to keep you occupied?'" At that point, she quietly ended the call, a slightly self-satisfied smile on her face.

What did she mean, actually? Was there anything behind her improvised baiting? She didn't know herself. "Well, whatever.. that will teach him to blow me off when I'm ovulating" she laughed to herself.

But come to think of it, she did happen to be swimming in a pond full of decent looking guys at the moment. The couple were staying at a nice, somewhat hip downtown hotel, and the lounge crowd was definitely a step up from the pudgy population of washed-out white-collar wage slaves that she was used to seeing the few other times she'd tagged along on one of Cedric's business trips. Instead, around her were seated attractive, nicely dressed, interesting men -- and as always, it was mostly men who were hanging out in the bar later at night -- most of whom looked like they could hold up their end of a conversation. A lot of the guys there were slightly older. Late forties, early fifties, fit. Some sort of upscale professional conference must be in town, she mused. Probably that Sustainable Urban Planning thing she'd seen on the convention centre marquee.

And they didn't seem like the typical corporate types either; those men's men who had an eerie way of making her feel like she was little more than a vagina with a pretty face. Actually, some of the guys in the place looked so cute that she wouldn't mind if they were thinking about her vagina while making small talk, she giggled to herself. "Hell, maybe I'd even show that guy the whole package, and ask him his opinion!"

At this point she realized that this line of thought was a sure sign that she'd had two vodka tonics too many. She was hardly that kind of woman and this mental exercise lay clearly in the finger-fantasy realm. Probably time to initiate Plan A -- with a bit of digital self-stimulation thrown in and a lot less pouting. And yeah, she'd find a way to have Cedric make it up to her, and she'd already begun thinking of how to give him less than he was hoping for in return. Much less. One way or another, payback was going to be a bitch.

Still, she wasn't quite ready for bed -- even if the idea of touching herself was tugging at her elbow a bit -- so why not work out the details of this Plan C a bit? Just as a little thought experiment to get the juices flowing? The thing is, she had noticed that more than a couple of the better looking guys kept glancing vaguely in her direction. In particular, one guy's glances had been a bit more frequent and more than a bit clumsier than the others. He had wavy salt and pepper hair and was wearing a bold rep tie with a beautiful pale grey suit. But it was where he was glancing that may have subtly initiated her current train of thought. She was seated at one of the high tables near the bar and while most of the cast of imaginary suitors had the grace to point their glances in the general direction of her face with perhaps an occasional furtive look at her breasts -- which were not jaw-dropping orbs of middle-manager lust in any case -- this one guy's eyes kept traveling lower. To her bare knees, calves, and presumably what little his fully-activated optic nerves could register of her outer thighs.

She'd dressed for a nice night on the town. A white sheer tank under a dark red tunic, a somewhat gauzy black skirt with slip, and elegant low-heeled pumps. Underneath that, a simple comfortable bra and rather conventional, if low-cut, pair of white cotton panties. Just the kind of panties that many men -- her husband included -- inexplicably found so sexy.

As she did a self-inventory, she considered how her skirt was just the right length to cover most of her thighs, yet had just enough shape to create a perfect tent if she held her knees apart. And then she realized why the man kept stealing glances at her waist line. He was hoping to get a look at a bit more than her knees! In fact.. hmm.. based on his dedication to continued observation, maybe he already had gotten a decent glance. It was a little awkward getting in to that high stool, and come to think of it, she had had to spread her legs a bit when she wiggled onto it. But a glance at what? Her inner thighs? Could men really be that easy to please?

What was she thinking? Of course men were that easy to please! She ought to know -- she'd married one.

And maybe her admirer -- she decided she'd call him Mr. X -- had seen more than that; the holy grail, a little flash of white? The lights weren't as low in here and the bar wasn't as cave like as many of these places were, and you could see into the shadows under other tables. And she was seated higher, putting her hips not quite at eye level for Mr. X lounging on the couch not five metres away.

She interrupted herself, almost startled at this rather surprising train of thought. She was impressed by how much energy she was putting into the line of thinking; how much she was beginning to enjoy herself. She even felt a stir of awakening beneath the soft material of the target garment; that subtle push of her outer lips against the close-fitting fabric. Pretty face, indeed, she smiled inwardly. And felt herself almost subconsciously open her legs, letting an innocuous little gap form between them.



Plan C, Phase 01



Based on results from our initial experiment, we've decided to continue on. While some folks might not be getting the instance gratification they were looking for, we hope that as the story unfolds, you'll see that that is the whole point. This story stands on its own, but if you like the element of suspense and the unfolding of desire, please do yourself a favor and start out by reading -- or at least skimming -- our first story, where you'll learn how "Plan C" arose in the first place. 

*****

Sarah sat at the small table by the bar in the hotel lounge, reflecting on what she had just done. She felt almost blind-sided by the strength of her mental and physical reaction to this one little action, given what a simple physical gesture it was. She'd simply spread her legs apart by little more than a hand width.

In fact, her not-quite-as-discrete-as-he-imagined admirer could not be getting much benefit from her not-at-all-indecent exposure. Yes, from his seat on the nearby couch Mr. X was at the perfect relative vertical position to see up her skirt as she perched on the bar chair. And he did have the advantage of being able to pretend to be looking at a nearby TV, as though he had suddenly taken a serious interest in championship curling. And there was no doubt that the frequency of his now less and less occasional glances had increased after that innocent little gap had formed between her knees.

But given the direction her legs were pointed she was confident that her private assets were shielded from his wandering eyes. The most her observer could see from his vantage point was an oblique segment of her inner thigh extending perhaps ten centimetres beyond her hemline and underneath her skirt. Just bare skin, and far less of that than he would have been able to see had he come across her lounging by the hotel swimming pool.

Time for a reality check. Where was she thinking this was going to lead? She flashed on an image of Mr. X pounding away at her on a hotel bed while she screamed "take me, take me, you sexy bastard" and almost laughed out loud. Even if she was that kind of woman -- and no, she certainly was not that kind of woman -- how would that work? What was she going to do, flash this random guy, follow him up to his room, and have wild unprotected sex with him? Was there some sort of established communication protocol for that sort of thing, and she'd just never received the memo?

Anyway, likely Cedric would have a thing or two to say about such an event, and who could blame him? Even though their mutual fantasies sometimes swung in the direction of her playing the "naughty wife", there was a pretty fucking deep chasm between a bit of role-playing with her dear husband and an extra-marital affair with a secret lover. Regardless of what she might be feeling in the moment, and how downright infuriating Cedric could be at times, she loved him deeply and could never lie to him, let alone betray his trust. No, she just wasn't going there.

And for that matter, there was no reason to think that Mr. X was looking for anything more than a cheap visual thrill -- mild wank off material to take back with him to his hotel room. Even if she was willing to throw caution -- not to mention her marriage vows -- to the four winds, the likely outcome would be at best mumbled apologies and a bad case of blue balls for him and a few moments of thrill followed by mortified embarrassment and lingering regret for her.

Still, it was fun to think about, and while her husband was off with his co-workers discussing the fascinating ins and outs of logistics and production integration, she could do a little in and out logistical planning of her own. All as a theoretical case study, of course. And it would make a good little story to titillate Cedric with while she set him up for the comeuppance she had planned. "'Make it up to me' indeed", she thought. He'd pay for leaving her hanging in the hotel lounge while he went out drinking with "the team". Maybe she'd even present her planning scenario to him as if it were a real event and see how he reacted!

While she sorted out the various imaginary moves in her mind, examining the feasibility and auto-erotic potential of each, her body seemed to have set itself on a parallel not-so-imaginary course, and she wasn't yet ready to haul down the mainsail. The thing was, every little move she made sent a sweet if subtle wave of excitement rippling from its origin between her legs and radiating out throughout her body. She was definitely aroused now, and was curious to see how much more aroused she might become if she allowed her body to tack down wind a bit further.

Her Plan C begin to coalesce into a broad strategic outline. That was exciting, but then she started to think about the tactical nuances. Somehow that got her even more into the spirit of the thing. The self-recognition that she had gone to this level of detail in her planning felt naughty enough in itself, but the detail also made the fantasy seem more real, because she could imagine herself actualizing it.

For example, how might she get herself in a position to provide a better view? Her legs were set at an acute angle ("or perhaps I should say a 'cute' angle?" she thought, wincing at her own jejune pun and feeling slightly giddy) to the interested party, and there really wasn't much of a gap between them. She could spread her legs first, and then turn toward her admirer. Or turn toward him and then spread her legs. Or do both simultaneously. This was getting silly. OK, spread and turn. If she turned and spread, it would probably be apparent that her somewhat less modest exposure was not completely unwitting -- and the last thing she wanted was to be obvious.

She parted her legs a bit further. Her inner thighs still felt like they were mostly touching each other. OK, just a little bit further. Now, if someone were looking squarely between her legs and pointing a flashlight directly up her skirt -- there was an image! -- a palm-sized and roughly triangular portion of her panties should be visible.

And so what if it was? She honestly had a hard time understanding the attraction. What was so exciting to men about getting a glimpse at a little piece of fabric? And then she had to admit to herself that she wasn't that much less shallow. What was so exciting to her about the idea that someone might get that glimpse? Was it what was behind her panties that counted, or the bare fact that she was willing to let someone see them? Or the idea that Mr. X might be jerking himself off later that night while visualizing her and her panties? She idly wondered what his penis looked like and how he might stroke it. And then, how it might feel in her hands. Hey, turn about is fair play, right?

So there she sat, with her legs apart a little carelessly but hardly inappropriately. She was going for clueless, not wanton. It suddenly occurred to her that Mr. X wasn't the only person who had shown an interest in her. Whoops, had she just flashed someone else inadvertently? But no, at her leg's current heading the gap in her skirt was not in the line of sight of any of the men seated nearby.

Still, as she sat there ruminating on the next step, she felt a growing sense of warmth, a pleasant little achiness, neediness even, beneath the soft cotton panel of her panties. Was she moist? Guys liked to talk about that, but it usually took at least a little direct stimulation to really get to that point, and in any case it was difficult to tell just how damp she was without feeling the material with her dry fingers -- something that would be clearly inappropriate, she laughed to herself -- and flushed a bit as she thought about the ramifications of doing just that: Probably a very awkward visit from the manager carrying a polite but firm request that she retire to her hotel room and finish her business there.

Wow. Her thoughts kept carrying her further and further away. She was almost intoxicated by the images and ideas that were coming to her mind now, but she liked that, and she also recognized that the intensity of her fantasies had being driven by the reality of her actions; that without those actions she would not be experiencing what she was now. Overall, there was a delicious, almost addictive but also pleasantly harmless quality to the whole thing.

So, there was really no question that she was going to carry out Plan C, Phase I, Step 2. She felt safe doing it, and perhaps it would relieve some of the pressure she was feeling; pressure that if left unchecked might even overwhelm her good judgement, she reflected as she felt a new thrill from playing up the likelihood of "something actually happening" in her mind. She wouldn't let things get to that point of course, and she was perfectly in control of the situation. This was just innocent fun, but even so she had a hard time believing that she was about to follow through with that next step.

She slowly swivelled around in the chair, giving the move what she hoped was an absent minded vibe. And there she was, with the tunnel between her legs aimed squarely at Mr. X., just like a... what, "a cannon ready to go off"? She couldn't think of a good analogy. "Like a shameless slut showing her goods to a total stranger" she said to herself with a sense of crude self-mockery, knowing that that kind of inner dialog -- as hyperbolic as it was -- would be just the thing to push her further up the arousal scale. Yes, she was going to have a good finger-fucking session when she got up to their room, she thought, feeling a surprisingly nagging urge to give her "naughty clit" a few heavy strokes and stick two fingers in her "slut pussy". When she started using dirty words, even if just to herself, she knew from experience that she had crossed a major libido threshold: she was getting seriously turned on.

She sighed, gathered herself from her swirling thoughts, and at that moment caught Mr. X's eyes moving to the exact spot those thoughts had just been most intently focussed on. What could he really see? Nothing more than her entirely conventional underwear -- and to his credit he clearly knew that whatever he could see was not the kind of thing that a respectable gentleman should be attempting to see. And indeed, the moment he noticed her eyes travelling in his direction, he quickly turned toward the colleagues seated across from him and immersed himself in their animated dialog.

But the space between her legs was exerting a powerful force of its own, one that had the potential energy to overcome the bounds of propriety. She was fascinated by and strangely flattered at the gravitational pull her pelvis seemed to hold over his pupils. Every few minutes, and then every minute, and then every thirty seconds or so, she felt more than saw his gaze fall between her thighs. And once or twice, his eyes intersected with hers as their private gazes flitted back and forth within the very public space between their two bodies.

There wasn't a particular moment in which she knew that he knew that she knew what was going on, and no way to know if he had at the same time surmised that her mild exposure was deliberate. But at some point she got an unmistakeable sense that they both understood exactly what was happening. With that realization came a mild jolt of panic, but also a sudden cascade of arousal that she felt intensely and palpably throughout the object of his attention. Her pussy was in fact slutty, she told herself, and by extension so was she. And what's more, she liked the feeling. It connected her to a primal longing, and allowing that longing to take hold of her made her feel paradoxically powerful and alive.

The next time their two gazes intersected, her eyes paused mid-flight. She was looking directly at him. His eyes kept moving for a moment, then stalled, turned back, and engaged with hers. After holding her eyes for a moment or two, his focus slid deliberately to her neck, down between her breasts, further down the length of her torso, under the bar table, and all the way down to her hips, stopping finally at that place between her legs -- the place where, she was now certain, he could see her white panties exposed beneath the fabric of her skirt -- and resting there.

And then she felt herself spreading her legs wider. Wider than was decent, wider than was modest, wider than was respectable. Wide enough to give him a full, complete, unobstructed view. Wide enough to let him know beyond any doubt that she knew exactly what she was doing.



Plan C, Phase 02



Plan C is the first erotica story we've ever written. We're presenting it as a series as we write it. Phase 2 stands on its own, but if you like the slow burn, you owe it to yourself to find out how Sarah got herself to this point in the first place before reading even a bit further! See Plan C - Inception, and Plan C - Phase I.

Note that the story contains hints of potential infidelity, so if that sort of thing makes you paranoid, move on. We were surprised to find that there are a lot of mean-spirited folks over in Loving Wives -- kind of a drag. But this story is really all about exposure anyway so we think this section could be a much more pleasant home. In any case, if you like stories of wifely exposure that invoke the sexiest word in the English language -- "panties" -- we hope you'll like this one.

*****

Somehow, Sarah had found herself sitting in a hotel lounge with her legs spread open. Wide open. It wasn't completely obvious from other angles, but she knew that one person -- Mr. X -- could look between them and see directly up her skirt all the way up to where her legs met. More accurately, he could look at the expanse that lay between her two legs. And that was exactly what he was doing. He was looking at her entirely exposed panties under her thigh length skirt. And that was the whole point. He was the reason that she'd taken the pose in the first place.

He had a perfect view. If she hadn't been wearing her panties he would have been able to see her vagina, see her outer lips slightly parted and a bit puffy. Even from his distance of five metres, it would have been obvious that she was excited. Of course, she was wearing panties. Only whores -- "and celebrity C-list has-beens", she thought in a rare burst of bitchy humor -- encouraged people to look up their skirts when they weren't wearing panties. "So, what does that make me?", she asked herself playfully, "A quarter whore?" She winced for the second time that night at her own embarrassingly bad pun.

But even though she was wearing panties, what Mr. X could see was enough. The fact that she was showing them to him was enough. Enough to slightly bend -- but not yet break -- her sense of what was right and wrong, what was good and bad, what was up and down.

She had only exposed herself to one person, a stranger in a crowded bar. But she felt as though she had been stripped naked and had her legs held wide open in a public square, and that hundreds of on-lookers were staring at her vagina. Staring and pointing.

She had never felt so vulnerable. Her stomach felt weightless, as if she had pushed the down button on an elevator and the cable had snapped. Perhaps this was how bungee jumpers felt. She'd ridden one of those amusement park tower rides once, and it felt a bit like that. But this ride hadn't stopped yet. Maybe this was how sky divers felt, she thought, realizing that that was probably an analogy too far. In any case, while the initial rush had settled down a bit, her stomach still felt like it was tumbling end-over-end.

She needed to get some perspective, needed to do that fast, to get it together before she completely lost herself. She needed to look at her situation objectively.

OK. He was still looking at her. Not staring, not making obvious facile gestures, certainly not elbowing his friends in the ribs with a "hey, check that MILF out". He was clearly not a crude man; he had an aura of sophistication and reserve. But also genuine style, and that whole sexy, greying, full-of-life-experience thing. So rather than ogle her, he sat calmly looking at her holding an expression of subtle appreciation with perhaps a slightly feral curl to his lips.

What was happening around her? Sarah couldn't have been sitting this way for more than a minute. (Could she have?) Was it her imagination, or had more eyes shifted their general area of focus in her direction? Were her legs so open that it was obvious they were too open, even to those without a head-on view? Women police the bounds of propriety more vigilantly than men, and out of the corner of her eye she noticed that one of the few women in the bar had turned her head and was looking vaguely in her direction. Was there a slight knowing smirk on her face?

Sarah closed the gap between her legs and with a desperate nonchalance primly crossed one leg over the other, falling into that classic pose of womanly modesty.

Mr. X looked back up at her face then, an expression of amused disappointment playing across his own face. He lifted his glass up just a bit past his face and then put it to his lips, a private gesture that only she might interpret as a semi-ironic toast. Then he put the glass down, settled himself a bit, looked at her again, and signalled with his body that he was about to stand up. She slowly shook her head from left to right and back again, her own private gesture carrying the clear message to stay where he was. 

She caught the server's eye and signalled for the check. While she waited, she reviewed the plan that she had earlier mapped out in exquisite detail. She'd never really meant to implement it, had she? Not this far, anyway. But she'd begun to act it out, and without doubt it was not just a thought experiment anymore.

Still, so far she was still in semi-charted territory. Her Phase 2 actions could reasonably be open to interpretation. But if she carried things further -- if she moved to Phase 3 -- that would be a different story. There would be no way that she could pretend to herself that it was nothing. So she wanted to be sure she understood all of the ramifications of each step of the plan. To be sure that in the cold light of day she would be able to justify each one -- to herself and, more importantly, to her husband.

Of course, any judgement-prone critic would at this point be asking how she could show her panties to a stranger, and then claim that that was "open to interpretation"! Well, she thought -- with a recognition that her argument carried a bit of post hoc justification -- her husband had asked for it. Hadn't he?

It was a game they played. Before they undressed for bed, he would tell her to lift her skirt and show him her panties.

He'd ask her, "what kind of woman lifts her skirt up like that just so someone can see her panties?"

"A naughty woman."

"And what if someone else could see what you were doing?"

"That wouldn't be good.."

"What would it indicate?"

"It would indicate that I was very bad."

"Exactly. Now touch yourself. Rub yourself through your panties."

And she would. She'd rub her fingers up and down over her mound through the smooth cotton of her panties. She'd already be moaning quietly. She'd have spread her knees all the way out at a 45-degree angle. She'd be in the position that women assume when they want to be penetrated as deeply as possible.

"You like that, don't you?"

"Yes."

"You like to show your panties to me."

"Yes."

"What if someone else could see you do that? How would that make you feel?"

"Oh god, I'd be so embarrassed."

"But you'd love it, right? You'd love to spread your legs and rub yourself while someone else was watching, wouldn't you?"

"Oh. God yes. I'd love it."

"Pull your panties aside."

She'd always do so without hesitation. It was the command she'd been waiting for. In fact, she was almost desperate to expose herself. She didn't get off as much on the whole panty thing -- that was mostly for Cedric's benefit, if she was being honest. No, what she really liked was to show her pussy. So she tugged the crotch of her panties to one side and did just that. Her lips were already puffy and it was easy to see her wetness between their folds. She started to rub her fingers along those folds.

"Stop. I didn't say to touch yourself. I want a good look. Spread them."

She knew what he wanted, and placed her fingers on the inside edge of each of her lips. Her labia were just the right size. Not delicate little creases and not meaty flaps, but the kind of pussy lips a real woman should have. Lips that had delivered babies. Lips that liked to talk about how well they'd been fucked. She pulled them apart so that her husband could see the interior details, see the perfectly smooth flesh pink flesh between them. Evaluate her readiness. See the button of her clit in relief, separated from its surroundings, perfectly accessible. God, how she wanted him to put his tongue to it.

"Now", he said slowly, "just what kind of woman spreads her pussy open like that, just because someone asked her to?"

"A very naughty woman."

"Yes, but more than that, right? You're not just a naughty woman, are you?"

"No.."

"What are you?"

"I'm a slut." Oh, how she loved saying that, loved revealing the bare truth of that statement to him.

"But what if someone else were here with us? What if you were spreading your lips so obscenely for them?"

That always made her squirm with lust, made her want to get fucked so badly.

"It would make me feel like such a slut."

"Because you would be, right? I mean, let's face it, no self-respecting woman opens up her pussy like that to a stranger, does she? What would you be showing us?"

She knew what word he wanted her to use. It always made her stomach lurch a little. That very dirty word..

"My... cunt", she said, "My wet... cunt".

"Put your fingers in your slutty cunt. All the way. Push them in and out. Rub your naughty little clit."

And she'd delight in masturbating for him and -- adding an aching intensity to her excitement -- for her imagined observers. Sometimes they would be men neither of them knew. Sometimes they'd be acquaintances. Sometimes they would be women. Visitors they'd invited to their bedroom just to see her put on her show. From this point on she would be so completely open, desperate to have him lick her, desperate to be fucked. And they would have marvellous sex. Sometimes it would be just them, and sometimes they'd invite their fantasy guests to stay.

He'd ask her if she'd really like to be exposed like that to a stranger. She'd ask him if he'd really like her to. And he'd say yes. And she'd tell him that things might get out of hand then. That the stranger might want to touch her. Might want to put his fingers inside her as well. That she might not be able to stop him. Might not want to stop him. Might even, gasp, let him fuck her. He'd groan with lust at the mere suggestion -- the excitement of the taboo. But no, she'd never go that far. "This pussy is for you, only."

And they kept coming back to the fantasy of her exposing herself like that to a strange man -- always in safe surroundings. And over time, it began to seem clear to her that he actually would like her to do exactly that. She'd never really considered it seriously, but here was an opportunity. An opportunity that fit perfectly into her Plan C. In fact, fuelled by her frustration at his disregard for her state of arousal -- he knew she was ovulating, damn it -- it was the entire basis for her plan. This situation fit so perfectly with their fantasy that it cried out to be taken advantage of. And it would be quite a while before they would have the opportunity again.

So, was this self-justification? Being honest with herself, she had to admit that she wasn't quite sure. But even is she was travelling a dangerous road, she knew that there were still clear stopping points along the way. Signposts. She might have gotten ahead of things a bit, but she knew the limits. She knew she would never go past the line that separated a potential misunderstanding about a mutual fantasy from infidelity. That line was clear. She'd never allow herself to touch or be touched by someone other than her husband, unless ... Well, all of that was covered by the plan as well.

The server had returned with the check. How long had she been rolling all of this over in her mind? Not more than five or ten minutes, surely. But it felt like she had been considering all of this for hours, and at the same time it felt like it was only a moment ago that she had opened her legs wide to a complete stranger in a crowded bar and let him gaze unimpeded at her panty-covered cunt.

Mr. X wasn't actually looking directly at her now. Instead, he appeared to be absent-mindedly watching the sports wrap-up show, occasionally politely interjecting a comment or two into the involved conversation his colleagues were having. But the TV was only a few degrees off to her side, and she alone knew that she had his complete attention.

Very briefly, she scissored her legs open and closed in a sort of stretching motion -- a classic flash that was also an unmistakeable acknowledgement of the reality of what had just happened. That it hadn't been unintentional. She put her mobile in her purse, slung it over her shoulder, and looked at him briefly; just a second or two longer than could be accidental. Then she sidled elegantly down off the high bar chair, turned toward the entrance to the hotel lobby, and walked out without a backward glance.



Plan C, Phase 03



If you like a story with legs, we suggest you start at the beginning with Plan C, Inception. Even if you skim the previous three stories, you'll be able to appreciate what happens here that much more.

Note that this story does include hints of infidelity, so if that's not for you, we understand and hope you find another story you like. 

*****

Sarah stood in the hotel foyer, her finger curled to her lips, miming "did I forget something?" She had walked about 10 metres from the entrance to the hotel lounge and turned as if to head down an intersecting corridor. She needed to see the lounge entrance without being conspicuous about it.

What happened next was governed by a single decision variable in her working model of the plan: Would Mr. X follow her?

"An inflection point if there ever was one", she thought, using the language she was familiar with. As a clinical researcher, she had learned to reduce a complex problem down to a set of key turning points. Typically, changes in biological systems are driven by many events that accumulate until they pass some threshold. But the more interesting cases involve just a few events -- events that can just as easily go one way or another. A single molecule might randomly bond with another molecule, setting off a cascade altering the metabolism of the entire cell. "A compelling analogy", she mused, "but a flawed one". If this were a turning point, the dynamics were "well-explained by the Standard Theory of Men". The outcome was "predictable with relatively high assurance".

And there he was. Scanning left and right. Seeing her, without acknowledging that he had seen her -- confirmation that her intuition about the suitability of her candidate had been sound! -- , he turned in her direction and started walking.

She set off at a good pace down the intersecting corridor. With her husband engaged in meetings, she'd had many occasions to explore the ground floor of the hotel over the last two days. There was the gift shop, the decent if uninspiring restaurant, the obligatory day spa. Really, a very pleasant place, she thought. Tasteful, contemporary, comfortable, and designed for use. It was attached to the small convention centre and contained many well thought-out spaces -- small foyers, group conversation areas, board rooms, and so on.

She paced herself so anyone motivated to do so could follow her. Now she looked back and saw Mr. X a casual distance behind her. In her travels, she had noticed one decent-sized alcove that was the perfect stage for Plan C, Phase 3. It contained a few upright armchairs with broad backs facing one another in loose formation, obstructed by a stair case, and buried in a small wing of disused conference rooms. The sort of spot that someone looking for a quiet place to prepare a presentation would have been pleased to discover. With a slightly self-conscious smile, she moved into the inviting nook and sat down in a chair facing away from the corridor.

She wouldn't be able to hear his approach across the well-carpeted floors, so she waited for him to appear, breathing slowly through her nostrils to still her heartbeat.

Mr. X wandered into the nook with a distracted half-curious air, as if he also had a special appreciation for hotel design. He didn't greet her directly -- perfect! -- but took his obvious mark in a chair slightly offset from hers and perhaps 2-3 metres away. He smiled -- almost shyly! -- and started to open his mouth.

She put her finger gently to her lips. This was so much more intimate a space than a hotel bar! She knew that conversation would seal them within that intimacy, and she didn't want that. Instead, she wanted a kind of anonymous intimacy -- and that required keeping communication to its barest essentials. And to ensure that the train of her plan stayed on its very slippery rails, she needed to control that communication completely. She looked at him and spoke:

"I should clarify a few things before this goes any further, and please understand that I don't mean to be rude. I just don't want there to be any confusion." She paused for a moment. His face fixed into a bemused, curious expression.

"I'm not propositioning you, and I'm not looking for a lover, or even for a friend. I already have a wonderful lover -- my husband -- ", she said, as her eyes actually twinkled, "and frankly, when this is over I hope never to see you again."

She waited a moment for this to register.

"What I am offering you is something that -- based on your reaction so far -- I think you'll enjoy. I know I'll enjoy providing it."

"But there are some basic ground rules: First, no talking unless I ask you a direct question. Second, I alone decide what happens and when it happens. You are not to make a move without my having asked you to do so. Third, I expect you as a man of obvious integrity to keep what happens between us to yourself. Fourth, if at any time you feel that you can't abide with these conditions, you can simply leave. Don't feel that you need to thank me."

That last statement she ended with an endearing half-wink.

"Agreed?"

"Agreed."

"Now, then. When did you first seem my panties this evening?"

"When you first sat down at the table. You were a bit clumsy and I got a quick glimpse at them."

"Did that 'quick glimpse' make you want to see my panties again?"

"Yes."

"And were you looking in my direction with the hope of catching another glimpse?"

"Well, not a serious hope. More of an ideal fantasy hope."

"Were you surprised when you saw my panties the second time?"

"I had a hard time believing my eyes at first. I thought it was another accident."

"But it wasn't an accident, was it?"

"No, but it took me an embarrassingly long time to realize that", he said wryly.

"Did you like looking at my panties?"

"Yes, very much so."

"What did you think when I opened my legs for you?"

"I thought 'Holy shit, she really wants me to look at her panties'", he said, laughing.

"Did you think that I must be a slut?", she asked, not knowing what she wanted his answer to be.

"No, I knew you weren't a slut. You are a quite lovely, obviously responsible, professional woman. That's what made the whole thing so exciting."

"So that was what I wanted his answer to be", she thought, and said aloud:

"But responsible women don't show their panties to strangers."

"Yes, I know... that's what made the whole thing so damn confusing." And he laughed again.

"Would you like me to show you my panties again?"

"Definitely."

For the third time that evening, she spread her knees apart. As much as he was an experienced man of the world, Mr. X actually couldn't help himself now, couldn't quite keep his cool demeanor together. When she exposed her underwear to him this time, he let out an appreciative sigh-groan and his face lit up in a boyish grin.

Would an observer have found this repetition tiresome, she wondered? A silly schoolgirl tease, going nowhere?

From time to time, late at night when her husband was away, she read erotica online while masturbating before falling sleep. If she had been reading about the events of the last hour or two, she would be one of those questioning the author's pacing and considering whether to cut her losses and find some better material to stroke herself off to. She would be skimming ahead, looking for that quick jolt of sexual action that she needed to push her over the edge. She liked the stories with lots of action.

And wasn't this the point in those stories where she should be pulling a bottle of astro-glide out of her purse and handing it to Mr. X? Bending over the arms of her chair, pulling down her panties, lifting up her skirt and draping it up and over her back to get it out of the way? Begging him to lubricate her anus and shove his meaty cock into her? Feeling him pound into her with desperate ferocity while saying very dirty things to her?

"How do you like that, you naughty tease? I could tell what a dirty slut you were as soon as I saw you spreading yourself shamelessly in the bar. You're even naughtier and nastier than I thought! You like being bent over and fucked like a barnyard animal? But you know, most female mammals don't ask to be fucked in the ass -- they've got more self-respect than that. I'm not even going to bother with your cunt. I'm sure its had many visitors, and I like a nice tight hole. Know what I'm going to do with your soft round ass? I'm going to fuck it until you are begging me to fill it, and then I'm going to cum deep inside of it, and leave you here with my sperm dripping out of it on to this expensive mother-fucking carpet. You'll have to wipe up your messy, sore, well-used, cum-covered asshole with your panties and then hope you can get back to your hotel room and clean yourself up before your unsuspecting husband gets back to your room. You like that idea don't you? Then beg me. Beg me to come in your ass. Fuck, you're going to make me come. What a nice little fuck-toy I've found to use while I'm in town. Wait until I tell the other guys! I've got a big black friend with a nine-inch cock that would be happy to fill up your other hole for you!!"

Well, she had to admit, that did have a certain appeal... But she was discovering something important: how distant the experience of reading about a sexual act could be from that of actually doing it. As distant as between that of reading a spy novel in bed late at night and that of having someone fire an automatic weapon in your direction with lethal intent.

So, no... she wasn't finding this getting old yet. And judging by Mr. X's rather dazed expression, he wasn't either. What she was doing now was already almost too intense to handle. She couldn't imagine herself doing anything more now. She needed to take each step at a time. And anyway, she was finding that the journey was its own reward. She wasn't going to hurry just to get to the ending.

So now she really splayed her legs -- let them hang open and rest against the sides of the chair as she reclined into it. She wanted to see for herself what he could see, so she lifted up from the chair so that she could yank her skirt up and bunch it around her waist.

There were her panties. Again, that intoxicating wave of exposure washed over her as she looked at herself on display. The entire front panel of her panties was visible and you could see from edge to edge of the gusset -- see her fine pubic hair spilling out from under the stretchy material surrounding each leg hole. See the sweet little indentation on the interior of each leg where a small gap appeared -- the perfect spot to slide a finger under. See the soft outline of her now full inner lips pressing into the fabric.

And -- oh, god -- she was revealing more than her panties, she was revealing her state of arousal. In terms of exterior wetness, she was not one of those women who dripped with excitement at the drop of a hat. When she became excited, she became very well-lubricated inside, but it took some manipulation for that moisture to make its way out. But now, she could see a quarter-sized darker spot smack in the middle of the gusset of her panties, about 2/3 of the way down the line of her lips. She felt a kind of deep, positive shame. What would her panties betray as she went further?

And from her distance, she could see that he was reacting to all of this in a physical way as well. A pronounced tent had formed in his pants and he kept shifting in his seat and adjusting himself. At what point would he begin rubbing himself, she wondered?

"Would you like to watch me touch myself?"

"Urgh. Uh-huh. Yes."

And so, just as if she were participating in the fantasy she shared with her husband, she touched herself in front of a stranger. She wanted to touch her pussy because she wanted Mr. X to see her do it. But she also needed it. It was an itch that needed to be scratched. She began to stroke her fingers over the fabric between her heavy outer lips, over her inner lips, starting at the bottom and moving to the top. Each time she made a stroke, her lips would be pushed apart a bit further and the fabric between them would get damper.

She carried on masturbating herself through her underwear for some time. The outline of her vulva became more and more pronounced. Over time the area of her panties covering her vaginal opening became almost saturated -- so saturated that you could could see not just the shape but the pink and yellow tones of her intimate flesh through the wet fabric.

It felt deeply satisfying to touch herself in this way, but of course it wasn't enough. It was time for Phase 3 Step 2 -- and this next step felt like real point of no return. She could abandon things now, but if she didn't, she knew that she wouldn't be able to stop herself from taking her plan all the through to the end. But, as with each step before, there was no real question whether she would take this next one. Her logic was sound, her emotions were under control, and her body was relentless in its pursuit of the final outcome.

"Do you want to see it? Do you want to see my pussy?"

"Please. Yes, please show it to me."

And so she slipped her fingers under the band that held her underwear against her skin, lifted it slightly, and pulled it across her lips so that most of her vulva was revealed. Her light hair coverage provided a beautiful foil for her vagina's various components to play off of. Her labia minora were pronounced but not protruding -- they were always visible, but now they set the entire scene. They were slightly separated in the middle and their inside edges glistened with lubrication, and it was immediately apparent that any reasonably sized and appropriately shaped object could slide between them with ease. From a purely objective biological point of view, she was ready to be mounted. From her own subjective point of view, she wanted to be.

"Should I touch it now that it is uncovered?"

"I'm not sure if I could handle it if you did."

She smiled slyly. "Just answer the question."

"Yes. Of course. Yes." And he began to rub himself through his trousers.

Again, she put two fingers to her inner lips, down toward the bottom. But this time there was no veil separating flesh from flesh. She felt her wetness, the perfect silky sliminess of nature's own personal lubricant. It was all she ever needed. She slid her finger up the groove between her inner lips, separating them further as she went. Oh god. This is what she had been craving all night. It was truly beyond her imagination. Everything felt dream-like, but at the same time the entire room was in sharp focus.

She began to stroke herself slowly. Up and down, up and down. Spreading her wetness along the top of her lips and then their outside edges. She watched Mr. X looking at her. His gaze was intent and single-minded, as if he wished to capture a complete perfect image of what he was seeing in order to be able to retrieve it again and again. He was rubbing himself vigorously. "He's going to make a mess of those pants", her sensible self intruded, uninvited. Then she heard herself groaning out loud.

She craved to cram her fingers in to her pussy just as her husband had told her to do so many times. She craved to rub her clit.

In any fictional account those would be the obvious next steps. But as desperate as she was to go deeper into the realm of self-gratification, and as desperate as she was to her pull her lips apart for his inspection, she knew that she wouldn't. She knew that she needed to hold back for now. She needed to demonstrate the power of her self-control. She needed her observer to want more, without even knowing what that more would be.

So, ending with one last lingering stroke, she removed her fingers from between her lips. She waited half a minute to allow Mr. X to take once again take in the complete view of her full pussy. Then she slowly returned the gusset of her panties to its proper place. As she did this she watched as his look of rapt appreciation and lust change to one of disappointed but understanding resignation.

As always, his deportment was impeccable. He didn't say a word.

She smiled -- a genuine, almost sympathetic, but not at all condescending smile.

"I'm afraid that that will have to be all for now. My husband will be back soon, and I have a lot to share with him."

He nodded his head as though he understood. But really, how could he?

"If you want to continue this, meet me here at precisely 6:30 tomorrow. No sooner, and no later. Understood?"

"Yes. Completely."

She got up form the chair, smoothed her skirt, gathered up her purse, and walked away. 



Plan C, Phase 04



Here is the next installment in our first-ever of erotic story.

If you like an element of suspense and mystery and want to find out how things got to this place, please consider starting at the beginning by reading -- or at least skimming -- Plan C Inception, and Plan C Phases 01-03.

Note, we thought that we'd try Erotic Couplings for this entry but it could just as easily have been in Loving Wives or perhaps BDSM. For people who are bothered by these sorts of thing we'll point out that there might be elements of voyeurism, cheating, mild submission and other naughty things in these stories. You'll have to find out for yourself, but we can say that at its heart this story is about a very loving couple. 

*****

Sarah was sitting at the small desk in the Herman Miller knock-off chair. Cedric opened the door to the hotel room. "Sweetie, I'm back."

"I know..." she said, "I can see you standing there."

"Look, I really don't know what to say, except that I feel like a self-absorbed jerk. It was totally shitty of me to go out drinking with the team -- even if it was a rare opportunity to suck up to upper management. Okay, especially if it was just to suck up to upper management. It was a waste of time anyway. Tom doesn't know anything about what's really happening in production, but naturally he thinks he's the worlds gift... Um, right, I'll stop there. I just really want you to know how sorry I am. I know this was supposed to be a night for us."

The really great thing about Cedric was that when he did have his head up his ass, he was usually able to pull it back out without any outside help.

"So, I'm here to make it up to you in the best way I know how. By fucking you in the way that only I can. Baby."

And then he could bury it back up there again just as quickly.

Well, one thing she knew: He certainly wasn't going to get his other head up her ass with talk like that! She stifled a giggle but also felt a chill up her spine at the images her third bad pun of the day had aroused. He'd been trying to buy a ticket for that particular magic tunnel ride for some time, but while she'd let him pop his head in to have a peek, she'd always turned him back, pointing at the height restriction sign.

The truth was that she was a bit trepidatious about the whole idea. Not of anal sex in particular -- the dirtiness of that act made it more appealing to her. And even the discomfort that she assumed it entailed had its enticing qualities -- she knew that if she did get fucked in her virgin ass that she would feel completely taken, and any fantasy that involved her being taken was totally appealing to her.

But there was a problem. Put bluntly, Cedric was well-equipped. She had told him that not (just) to stroke his ego -- it was a simple fact. Her husband's cock was the longest she'd had -- and she was had a large sample set to compare him to. It wasn't that she had been promiscuous, but she'd always had an appetite for sex and had had plenty of time to indulge that appetite before she met her husband. So yes, she knew he was outside of the statistical norm -- if not a complete outlier. The thought of having all of that enter her at once -- when she had never had so much as a small toy up there before -- well... it gave her pause.

She snapped out of her sodometric musings and returned to the present. Her husband was still standing there waiting for her reaction to his generous offer, like a Labrador puppy who had just dropped a dead bird at its owner's feet.

"Like I said earlier, it's okay. I am able to entertain myself, you know."

She saw a small startle reflex as his mind returned to the phone conversation earlier that evening.

"Yeah, um. So what exactly did you mean when you said that there was 'plenty to keep you occupied'? You were yanking my chain, right? Well, it worked. You got me thinking, that's for sure. Can't take you for granted. Message received."

"What message?"

"Well, um... what did you mean when you said that?"

"I meant that I had found something that could keep me occupied."

"Like what, though?"

"Shh... we can talk about that later. Right now, all I really need to have occupy me is... your cock."

She got down on her knees and waited for him to get the idea and come over to her. He looked motivated, that was for sure. She reached out and undid his belt buckle. Opened his pants and slid them down to the floor. Pulled down his boxers and admired his now quite erect penis. Cupped his balls in one hand, and then gently wrapped her other hand around the tip of his cock. Pulled its foreskin back. Blew on the underside of its head. Opened her mouth wide and moved her head forward so that its head was fully enveloped by -- but not yet in contact with -- the inside of her mouth. She wondered if he could feel the warmth of her mouth just millimetres from his cock head; encircling it.

"Oh yeah baby, that's it. Suck it. Suck my cock."

She held herself there for a while longer and then slowly moved her head back so that her mouth was no longer surrounding his cock.

"Hey! I mean, that was a good idea. Let's go with that."

"Nah, you said you'd make it up to me. I want to make sure you don't forget later."

She went over to the bed and stripped off all of her clothes except for her panties. Then she lay herself out on the bed, legs dangling to the floor, knees spread far apart, ass as close to the base of the bed as she could get it.

"Okay, that's not a bad idea either. Why don't you do your thing for me, baby?"

He waited expectantly for her to begin feeling herself up.

"Nah, I think I'll let you do the work tonight."

"Okay, okay, you got me. Fair enough."

It was his turn to kneel. He moved up to the base of the bed and put his face up to her pussy.

"Wow, it looks like you've been busy. Your smell is all over those panties."

"Lick them."

He happily complied and began to use his strong lips to massage the mound under her panties. She let him have at it or a while.

"Now, take them off of me."

Again, he was only too happy to comply.

"You know what to do."

He did. He licked up and down her slit, moaning, making little sucking noises.

"Wow, you must have been getting yourself pretty excited earlier."

"Yes, and now I need you to take care of that."

He focused his attention on her clit, sucking the area around it into his mouth so that the button of it was completely accessible, and began lightly but rapidly flicking his tongue over it. 

"Put your fingers in my pussy."

He stuck two fingers deep inside of her. He pushed them up and in, exploring the complex territory inside, and began to slide them in and out of her, pressing and stroking her inner walls just where she liked them to be pressed and stroked. She began to move her hips up and down.

As much as he wanted her too, she hardly ever let him make her cum this way. She enjoyed being fucked too much for that. But this time, just as he expected her to push his hand away and tell him to stop, she began bucking her hips.

"Nuhh. Oh. Nuhhhhh!! God. Oh. Ohhhh. Nuhhuhhuh!!"

She fell back on the bed, almost satiated. He looked at her adoringly.

"That was great!", he said.

"Really?", she asked.

"Oh yeah, I love getting you off like that."

"But what if this means that I'm not really interested in sex now?"

"Ah. Well... aren't you?"

"I don't know. Let me think about that."

She lay back for a while, relaxing, enjoying the feeling of laying spread out on the bed, her needs pretty well met. Finally she looked at him.

"Yeah, I think I'm not quite satisfied after all. I need to get fucked, even if you won't make me come again. But let's do it the way you like it."

She rolled over and got up onto all fours, raising her nicely rounded ass into the air and back a bit. If he was hard before, he was really hard now. She couldn't resist reaching around behind herself and giving his cock a few quick jerks. Yes, iron hard, just the way she liked it.

"I'm afraid that if you put it in there, you're going to come right away."

"No, I can hold back. But I do want it badly."

"OK. Then fuck me. Fuck me deep."

He got behind her, standing at the end of the bed, and pushed his cock between her slippery lips. He moved into her, savouring each inch of her as he penetrated deeper. Her pussy felt so good. He began to move in and out a bit more quickly. This night had been strangely exciting for him. He felt that boiling sensation in his balls that signalled that he was at or even past the point of no return. He had thought about turning her over and fucking her face to face, but now he knew that he couldn't wait for that, that he was going to erupt inside of her.

"Wait. Stop a minute there."

"Urgh. OK." He came to a stop, buried as far inside of her as he could get -- which, as they both knew from experience was about the limit of what she could accommodate from that angle. She actually couldn't imagine having anyone go any deeper.

"Whaa? What do you want me to do to you now?" he asked, groaning with lust as he pushed his penis around inside her, still all the way in, pressing just as hard as he could down to compress the soft part of her bum, trying to keep the feeling going without actually moving in and out of her.

"Nothing." She pushed back against him, levering her behind down and backward, shoving him slowly, until she was in child's pose with her ass just hanging over the bed. He had to shuffle back a bit and crouch to stay in her. Now, she was in control of their coupled bodies' motion -- the brains behind this particular beast with two backs.

"Stay just like that. Don't move." And she began to raise herself back up as if into cow pose, moving herself up to the point where her supple interior lips were just kissing the head of his cock, surrounding it at the edge. Then she moved herself back down, feeling his cock open and enter her pussy again. She did this again and again, moving slowly, easing her ass around to hit the spots she liked. She was really enjoying this!

He was straining to maintain his awkward semi-athletic stance, knees bent in a slight squat. He reached out and held her ass in his hands. She loved it when he did that! She also loved it when he began to get overwhelmed with lust and really latched on to her ass, gathering its soft flesh of her ass between his fingers, pulling and pushing her back and forth against his cock. But this evening she resisted him, and continued to move at her own pace.

"Does that feel good?"

"Oh God, yeah. I'm really ready to come now. I want to fuck you hard and fast now, just the way you like it."

She slowed a bit more, then came to a stop, again so that his cock was buried inside of her. She pushed back hard and wiggled against him. Then, very slowly, she moved her ass forward. But this time she didn't stop when her lips came to the end of his cock. She kept going, and his penis slid out of her altogether.

She rolled back over on to her back.

"I think that's really enough for tonight, don't you?"

"What? Argh..! Okay, yeah right." He grinned, but there was still a look of mild panic in his eyes. "Now there is something you're not going to follow through with. I know you want my sperm inside of you."

Wow, was he asking for it? No matter, any sense of pity she may have had evaporated under the warm sun of his light-hearted bravado.

"Look, you know you keep bugging me about this orgasm denial thing. I thought it was about time I got serious. It doesn't mean anything if you aren't sure how serious I am."

"Yeah, I know. You did that to me last night."

"And look where it got me. You still didn't show up for our dinner date."

"But that wasn't because I didn't want to fuck you."

"I don't want you to want to fuck me, I want you to need to fuck me. No, this time I'm keeping it real."

"Okay, I need to fuck you. Satisfied?"

"Not yet. But I will be tomorrow."

"Oh fuck. Please let me fuck you. Please let me come inside of you now. Please, Sarah?"

"Nope."

She got under the covers and curled up under them, naked. He got in next to her and spooned her. She could feel that his cock was still iron hard. Feel it try to nestle itself between her butt cheeks. She could get used to this. But she rolled away from him under the covers, turning to face him.

"Uh-uh. I can feel you moving, trying to get yourself off. Enough of that, or you can sleep on the other side of the bed."

He promised that he'd be good. Well, he seemed to be enjoying this -- with what must be enormous ambivalence, she granted. They did have a pre-arranged word they'd use if he wanted her to stop teasing him, but he wasn't using it -- and in any case she couldn't remember what it was.

"But when can I fuck you again?" He asked -- almost pathetically, but managing to preserve most of his manly dignity. That was good, she wouldn't want to see her man grovelling.

"Tomorrow, if you cooperate." There was her mischievous grin again.

"I'm getting up early tomorrow morning for that Yoga workshop so I won't have a chance to go over this again. So listen carefully."

"I'm listening, believe me."

"There is a small foyer on the ground floor of the hotel. If you take the corridor past the gift shop, go down 30 meters or so and turn left, then go down that hallway and take the next right, you'll come to a wing of conference rooms -- it's a geological theme, like 'Basalt, Quartz, Limestone..'. Across from 'Granite', behind the staircase, there is a small alcove. Do you think you can find that?"

"Yes, I'm pretty sure that I know where you're talking about."

"You should be absolutely sure. You should check in the morning. I want you to meet me there at precisely 6:30 tomorrow. No sooner, and no later. Understood?"

"Okay, but.."

"No 'buts'. Do you understand?"

"Yes, completely."

He didn't really understand what was going on at all. How could he? But he'd be very motivated to find out, and she was sure that this was one date that he wouldn't miss.

She rolled back over and then nestled her back against his stomach. Felt his arm reach around and hold her close. Felt his cock resting against the small of her back. Sensed him willing himself to stay still. And drifted off to sleep, with fragmentary visions of the next evening floating in and out of her mind.



Plan C, Phase 05



We know that many folks have been waiting some time for this next installment. We hope you find it worth the wait. These stories demand a particular taste, and we've loved hearing from those of you who share ours and believe that the mind is the most sensual organ of all.

This time, we're back in Loving Wives, as that is the place that we've found many similar stories that we like best. Again, for people who are bothered by these sorts of thing, we'll point out that there might be elements or at least hints of voyeurism, cheating, mild submission, sharing and other naughty things in these stories. If you're turned off by any of that, or looking for totally instant gratification, you should probably stop reading now.

You'll have to find out for yourself, but we can say that at its heart this story is about a very loving couple. 

______

Phase 05

Sarah walked down the hotel hallway toward the rendezvous that she had established the previous night. It was 6:32 by her watch. She wasn't surprised by what she saw when she turned into the small foyer, but she was newly impressed by what could be accomplished with a bit of planning followed by careful execution.

Seated at the two chairs facing out toward her were her husband and Mr. X. As she entered the space, they rose automatically -- natural gentlemen. She took a seat and waved them to sit down -- it was hard to accomplish that gesture without appearing imperious, she mused. Mr. X sat immediately, but her husband seemed completely discombobulated, frozen in an awkward half-stand, half-sit.

"It looks like this space has been double-booked, honey", he started out -- fumbling to fire a preemptory round of bonhomie at the other man in the alcove, who he must have already sensed was not likely to be there by accident. "It looks like we'll need to find another location to..." His half-sentence mated perfectly with the awkwardness of his posture.

Her heart softened to him, as it always did. "This is exactly the right location, Cedric. Sit down, and I'll explain."

He sat.

"I owe both of you an explanation. This will be inescapably difficult, so best to just get down to it. Let's start with introductions."

She turned to the stranger in the room.

"Let's just call you 'Mr. X'. As must be obvious now, the man seated to your left is my husband Cedric. We have been married for many years and have several children. Ours is a strong, dynamic, loving relationship -- and if it weren't, I can assure you that you wouldn't be here, and I'd never even consider what I'm about to propose."

Mr. X nodded uncomfortably at Cedric. Cedric looked back, his face now frozen in an awkward half-smile, half-grimace.

"Cedric, Mr. X is a man who I -- ." For the first time in the last twenty-four hours she felt herself struggling for words. "Well, 'met' implies something it shouldn't, and 'interacted with' sounds too impersonal, so let's say 'first became exposed to' -- last night."

"I've already given Mr. X a set of ground-rules. Are those still clear?"

Mr. X nodded.

She turned back to her husband.

"Now, to you, my dear. You and I are embarking on an experiment. As with any well designed experiment, this one has a set of protocols designed to ensure the integrity of the results. So I must also ask you to consider a set of ground-rules: First, only talk when I ask you a direct question, or to request clarification. Second, do not take any action without my asking you to do so. Third, whatever happens stays between the three of us. Fourth, if at any point you decide that you want this experiment to stop, say so. I will respect that and we need never speak of these things again."

She paused for his consideration, studying his face closely. It held traces of confusion, nervousness, and even anger, but dominating all of that was the devotion and trust she knew he felt for her.

"Agreed?"

"Yes, agreed." And then with a sigh he said, "Anyway, I'd die of curiosity if I didn't find out what you had cooked up in that dangerously pretty head of yours."

"Good. Now, it may be difficult for you, but I need you to listen to this next part with an open mind."

"What I've done, dear, is brought one of our mutual fantasies to life. Perhaps that was wrong, in which case -- well, I will be truly, deeply sorry, and will spend a good part of the next year making it up to you. But I know you very well, and I wouldn't have taken the risk I did if I didn't think you'd come to love me more because of it."

She noted in his posture a waning of aggression and a waxing of interest.

"The fantasies I have in mind are the ones in which I expose myself to a stranger."

"And", she said deliberately, gazing into his eyes, "that's exactly what I did last night. I showed the man sitting next to you my panties."

She could see the flood of sexual arousal wash over her husband as she spoke those words -- and a look close to awe come over his face as he processed what she had done. Yes, there was still confusion and worry in his face, but she now knew that the gamble had paid out.

"I first did that in a bar full of strangers, feigning an accidental exposure."

"Then later, to entice him to follow me here, I did it again, making sure that he saw that it was no accident."

"Then, finally, where we are sitting right now, I spread my legs open and showed my panties to him alone."

She watched, fascinated, at the effect her words were having on her husband. As she spoke, she could see a pronounced tent forming within his soft wool trousers.

"But more than that. I also... I showed him my pussy, Cedric."

As she uttered these words, they both realized simultaneously that this statement could not be left without some response. Her husband had to say something, had to defend his territory, least he fall into the tiresome role of cuckold. She knew that neither of them wanted that. He spoke now.

"You shouldn't have done that, Sarah -- not without at least talking to me first." It came out more understated than expected. And then -- wonder of wonders -- he began to laugh, and she found herself laughing with him, as they shared the sudden realization of how ridiculous his demand for consultation on just this one key point really was: "Sure honey, you're welcome to show your underwear to complete strangers, but I forbid you from showing the contents of said underwear without my prior consent."

Mr. X looked on in mild astonishment. For a few moments, he became the third wheel in a conversation that revealed a deep and lasting intimacy between the other two people in the room.

"I thought that doing that -- showing him my pussy -- was also a risk work taking. I thought it necessary to continue to get to where we are now. The real question is, are you sorry that I did that? Are you sorry that I showed him my pussy?"

He sat for a few moments, quite still. "I'm surprised to find that I can't say with certainty that I am."

She looked at him intently, a bit of cold calculation in her eyes. "Well, I am now going to prove to you that you wouldn't have been sorry. Because I'm going to do the same thing now, with you here. You'll have every opportunity to stop me, and then you will no longer be able to claim that you would have 'preferred that I didn't'."

And she began to raise the hem of her loose-fitting skirt up her thighs. She kept her legs together as she did so, so that this time there wasn't the opportunity to get a peek between her legs. This way whatever she did would be for the simultaneous benefit of both of her observers.

She kept pulling the skirt up, up and up, until the line of the hem reached seven or eight inches below her waist. She looked at her husband, who looked at her, at the other man in the room, back at her, and then gently nodded.

She raised her skirt further then; very, very slowly now; and the bottom corner of the triangle of her panties came into view. She stopped for a moment and looked at both men in turn -- saw the hard evidence of their excitement struggling against the confines of their pants.

She continued to pull her skirt up, slowly, so very slowly, revealing millimetre after millimetre of the fabric of her panties. Those panties contrasted very nicely with her french blue skirt and pale legs, she mused.

Even when her panties were fully revealed, she continued to pull her skirt up, until it was gathered up above her panties, until both men could see her soft naked belly resting above their small elastic waistband.

"Jesus", her husband said with a whispered, achy groan. "I can't believe you're actually doing this, Sarah."

She gave him a warning look and put her index finger to her lips. Then she brought that same finger down in a graceful arc to the middle of her panties, running it down into the small gap formed between her legs and the bottom of her panties, and pressing into the flesh surrounding her clit. Pressing it hard, indulging her need to relieve some of the pressure that had been building up down there. God, she felt so horny. She'd never felt so much need. She felt an intense urge to throw her legs open, pull her panties aside and shove her fingers into her pussy right then and there.

But no, not yet. Every step in her plan was a step that must be taken. There could be no short-cuts, no giving in to the lure of instant gratification.

"Do you like this, baby?" She asked. "Do you like me sitting here exposing my panties in a hotel hallway, letting a complete stranger stare at them?"

He sat there, still stunned. She pushed further, loving the feeling of power that saying these words was giving her.

"Do you like having him see me touch myself?"

He mumbled something barely audible.

"Well, do you?"

He still seemed at a loss for words.

And now she let her tone take on a more commanding, almost mocking tone.

"Do you want me to touch myself more? Do you want me to spread my legs and rub my pussy? Or should we just forget the whole thing and go upstairs and fuck?"

Finally, he answered her.

"No", he said. "No, keep going. Do what you're going to do. What you've obviously been planning to do anyway."

So she spread her legs, not indecently, but enough that you could see the area of her panties that her pussy hid behind.

She'd chosen her panties not because they were her most sexy pair, or even because they played into the Innocent-Mother-I'd-Like-to-Fuck fantasies of her husband, but after careful consideration and experimentation. She'd spent part of the early afternoon in her hotel room pouring a capful of water on to each pair of her panties, looking for the colour that would best highlight any moisture. That colour turned out to be pale grey. The fabric of course was cotton, which would quickly wick the lubricating juice from between her lips up to where it could be seen. Now she could see that her planning had paid off. As she spread her legs blotches of wetness stood out clearly from her panties.

Her voice took on an even more teasing air.

"Do you like that? Do you like seeing how wet this makes me? Do you want me to tell Mr. X just how dirty I can be, while I provide a live demonstration?"

"Yes. You should tell him. Tell him what a dirty slut you are."

"I'm a slut, am I? You should know, I guess. You've seen me be a slut for you many times before, haven't you? But I've never been a slut for anyone else before. Now I am."

Then she turned to Mr. X.

"Do you like this? Do you like seeing my wet panties?"

He nodded.

"Of course you do. You'd like to see my pussy, see how wet it is, wouldn't you?"

He nodded more vigorously.

"But it isn't my pussy, it's my cunt. Because that's what a slut's pussy is called, isn't it?"

She wondered if this was all moving too hard, too fast. Perhaps they should have built up to this over a series of more gradual steps -- say, a little internet chat with a lucky stranger as a kind of a warm up exercise. But that seemed so pale in comparison to what she was doing right now. This was so much more intense than she could imagine that sort of impersonal, anonymous activity ever being.

God, she was getting off on talking to a stranger like this. The dirty talk turned her on almost as much as what she was doing. She had become completely consumed by her need to be seen now. Nothing could have stopped her at this moment -- even had her husband objected, she had to admit to herself.

She yanked her panties aside.

"There it is. You like that? Is that what you wanted to see? My hairy wet cunt lips? See how puffy and full they are? See how excited I am showing myself to you? I should stick my fingers in between them, huh? What would that make me?"

Yesterday, Mr. X had refused the opportunity to go along with her self-characterization, remaining the perfect gentleman. But her actions and talk had had its intended effect, pulling him in to the spirit of things.

"You'd be a slut, that's true. It would be hard for anyone to deny it."

"Well then, I guess I'll have to live with that." And she thrust two of her fingers in between her lips, burying them as far as they would go. Oh god, she had been craving that feeling!

"Should I touch my clit? Do you want to see me rub my nasty little clit for you?"

"Yes, yes."

"Oh yes, you liked it when I touched my pussy for you yesterday, didn't you?" She said this looking at her husband, getting off on the effect her words were having on him.

She licked the index finger of her other hand, brought her other hand down to her pussy, spread the surrounding skin apart and began to rub her clit quickly, almost painfully. She was actually squirming with lust now, and her panties were getting in the way. So she put her hands into their waistband, lifted her ass up, and thrust them down around her ankles. Then she spread her legs again and began going at herself in earnest.

This was moving along a bit too quickly, she thought. She was so overcome with lust and felt almost out of control. She toyed with the idea of allowing herself an orgasm, just to get through the next few steps without losing her sense of judgement. But she knew from experience that the experience of one massive, shattering orgasm was worth waiting for. She slowed her pace a bit and gathered herself.

"Come over here. Come over her and take a good close look."

Mr. X actually got on to the floor and half-crawled over to her, just to avoid breaking his intense gaze on the space between her legs. He came up to just a meter from her. She continued to move her fingers in and out of her pussy.

"Closer. I want you to be able to smell me."

He crawled further forward and moved his head right between her legs. Then closer, just a hand-width or so away from her pussy, close enough to see the tiniest fold and detail. She stopped stroking now.

"Should I spread my lips for you? Should I let you see the inside my cunt?"

"Please. Yes, please."

She grasped her inner lips between her index fingers and pulled them apart. She now set there in the hotel foyer with her legs splayed open and her pussy exposed as lewdly as it could possibly be to someone whose name she did not even know. After an eternity of seconds, she released her lips, leaving them puffy and slightly gapped. 

Now she turned to her husband again.

"Are you going to let him touch it? Will you let this stranger put his fingers on your wife's precious pussy?"

"You said you were a slut, and you're doing a damn good job proving it to us." He turned to Mr. X and said in a kind of lustful snarl, "be my guest."

Mr. X reached out almost tentatively.

"That's it, put your finger on my pussy lips."

He touched her then, and the touch was electric. Not so much the feeling, as the fact of it. She wanted him to shove his finger into her, but she held her resolve firm.

"OK, please take your hand away now."

Then she asked her husband the next question.

"You let him touch me, are you going to let him taste me too? Do you want this stranger's lips on my cunt?"

"Yes. Yes, I want to see that."

She put her hands on either side of Mr. X's head and gently guided it forward until his mouth was nearly on her lips.

"Do it. Lick my pussy slit."

And then she felt that delicious sensation; a tongue sliding up her lips and back down, but this time a tongue that she wasn't used to. She was amazed at how different it felt. Not better, not really worse, just... different.

Then she pushed his face away. She gestured for him to return to his seat. The three of them sat then for a quiet minute or two, collecting themselves, flush with excitement, confounded by the sexual energy that had just been unleashed.

She bent over in her seat, reached down and gathered her panties from between her ankles and slid them up her legs and back around her waist. Then she stood and did her best to smooth out her very ruffled skirt.

"Now, I am going to retire to our room. If either of you gentleman would care to join me, you would be most welcome."

And with that, she turned and walked back up the hallway. 



Plan C, Phase 06



This story provides a brief but key interlude in the progression of Sarah's plan, and explores some interesting paradoxes of sexual experience and power relationships. We're putting it in the reluctance category, as there are light elements of that in here. Regardless of category, we hope all of our readers enjoy it and would love to hear your feedback, positive or negative. Stay tuned for the exciting finale!

As before, if you don't like to even contemplate the idea of a married women having a sexual relationship with another person, you probably won't like this story.

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Sarah walked to the bank of elevators and pressed the up button, acutely conscious of the proximity of the two men beside her -- one whom she had known intimately for many years, the other a total stranger. She looked up and scanned the floor readouts, looking for the next arrival. Her exterior demeanor was calm, and the three could be taken for a group of out of town colleagues returning to their respective rooms after a busy day. But her cool public shell stood in stark relief to her private experience: The almost clammy wetness she felt from the material between her legs, the weakness she felt in her knees, the tingling she felt in her belly and below, and the field of barely restrained sexual energy she felt emanating from the two men.

As the three of them stood waiting for the elevators, staring at the doors, she thought about how the elevator embodies an essential paradox of modern society. Elevators enshrine our longing for anonymity and privacy within a culture that demands constant social interaction: In an elevator, even people on close terms keep a careful measured distance from one another. But elevators also reveal our fear of intimacy by exposing us to our inescapable vulnerability to others: Within the sudden, complete but fleeting privacy, a space is created where anything can happen. Isn't it remarkable, she reflected, how resilient elevator culture is in the context of broader social changes?

And of course, there was the the most important aspect of an elevator; where it could take you. As the doors slid open, she flashed on the ludicrous image of the lips of her vagina opening in unison with them. A laughably bad simile, but she couldn't deny the directness of the connection. The elevator was a kind of gatekeeper to the final phases of her plan, which would involve the exposure and parting of her pussy lips, and that outcome became even more certain now that the elevator car had arrived.

A group of asian tourists spilled out of the doors, immersed in conversation. She stepped in to the empty space they had left behind, the two men stepping in after her, and then selected the button for the 22nd floor as the doors slid close. She stood near the wall of the car, turning to face them -- and gasped as she felt Mr. X suddenly pressing her into the wall, shoving himself against her, palming her left buttock, pushing his thigh between her legs.

This was a surprise -- for the first time an unexpected complication had intruded into her careful planning. Her first instinct was to push him away, to defend her already mostly imaginary modesty from the advances of a stranger; a stranger who seemed bent on taking her within the space of a public conveyance while her husband looked on.

But as she gathered her response, she found that the stranger's near desperation satisfied a deep craving within her, a craving to be claimed just like this, in an anonymous space with no control over the outcome. Mr. X's actions came out of nearly pure animalistic needs and she realized that there was also something pure within her primitive body that responded to that need. There was something so natural and timeless about this scenario -- to be grabbed by a strong, handsome, intelligent male and then to be fucked by him without her permission, without having a say in the matter at all. So, she found herself momentarily unable -- or perhaps unwilling -- to restrain his near assault and force a return to the plan.

She felt his right hand reach down to the base of her skirt and yank it up, and then she felt the same hand reach up and under her skirt and over her panties, and slip itself back down under the waistband of her panties, force itself between her ass and the wall, and then, still burrowing under her panties, between the gap that his knee had forced between her legs, and then -- oh-my-god-is-this-really-happening -- he shoved his curled middle finger up and into her pussy. He pushed his finger into her hard and fast, pulled it out, pushed it in again and pulled it out, then jammed his index finger alongside of it and pushed both back into her as deeply as he could given the awkward angle of entry. In any other circumstance, his roughness would have been forceful and even painful, a sexual assault that would have left her vagina's lips and interior wall abraded and sore for days. As it was, his fingers had easily slipped into her, and as he began to propel his fingers in and out of her at an awkward but frantic pace she simply felt an intense deep pleasant probing -- almost a testing of her waters, preparing her for things to come.

This whole sequence, from the moment he pushed her against the wall to the moment now of him plunging his fingers in and out of her, had taken almost no time at all. It was disconcerting but perversely thrilling demonstration of just how little protection the thin fabric of her clothes provided, how her skirt afforded easy access to the most private parts of her body, how easy it would be for any man to do what this man was now doing.

But as she began to settle into the rhythm of what he was doing, she found that she was able to regain her self-control. As funny as it sounded, she knew that there was something that was just too inappropriate and seedy about this -- while exciting in its own way, it was not the image that she wanted her husband to keep of this night. Yes, she could tell he was excited by the stranger's unrestrained need for her, and he had not yet made a move to stop him, but she knew that this was at the edge or even beyond it. Besides, it was against the rules. So she pushed Mr. X back from her, reached behind herself and gently plucked his hand out of her, and demurely smoothed down her skirt.

"That will be enough of that, Mister!", she said, managing to mix a measure of conspiratorial camaraderie and matronly admonishment, and then added more sternly, "one more violation of the ground-rules, and this will be over."

She hoped that her natural self-assurance masked the difficulty she was having keeping to the script. Because at this point, she wanted nothing more than to have Mr. X ignore her attempt at levity with a callous sneer, lift her skirt again, yank her panties away from her body until they tore open, unzip his fly, splay her legs against the wall of the elevator and shove his cock into her as deeply and coarsely as he possibly could.

In any case, at that moment the elevator doors slid open again, revealing an empty hallway. The final phase of her plan was about to begin, and she felt a rising thrill as she knew that her greatest needs might soon be satisfied.

As the trio exited the elevator, she turned to her husband, who seemed to have collected himself more or less and appeared to be about to re-assert his own primitive claims, in this case to her status as life-long mate and the mother of his children. "Don't worry," she whispered to him, as she grabbed his hand and brought it over to rest briefly against her mound over the fabric of her skirt and her panties, "no matter what happens next, this pussy is only for you. It's your cock I want inside of it."



Plan C, Phase 07



(c) 2012 Padma Bear

No part of this story may be reproduced in any form, including electronic media, without the written permission of the author.

Here it is, the moment readers of this series have been waiting for. We hope you get a kick out of it.

If you're new to the series, you owe it to yourself to at least skim the previous stories, starting with "Plan C, Inception". Otherwise, it will be like turning to the last chapter of a mystery and reading it first -- you might enjoy it, but you'll wish you'd waited.

This story could just as easily have been filed under Loving Wives, Erotic Couplings, Exhibitionist and Voyeur and at least one other category, but that would be giving away the ending...

We love hearing and responding to your comments. If you like the story, make sure other people know about it -- PLEASE VOTE! 

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Sarah swiped the hotel room door key, pushed down on the handle, opened the door, and entered the hotel suite, with Cedric and Mr. X following on her heels.

This was it. In some inexplicable way, her experiences over the last two days had caused her to reexamine the way she looked at the world. It was hard to believe that the very detailed images and scenarios she'd been playing with in her head -- in some cases for years -- were becoming real. It made her head spin to contemplate how quickly her idle fantasies had played themselves out once she set things in motion. Everything was happening just as she'd imagined it would in her day-dreams and private masturbation sessions; just as she'd described it when she shared her fantasies with her husband late at night while stroking his cock; just as she'd planned it out simply as a way of entertaining herself while sitting at the bar alone the previous evening.

She walked over to the sitting area next to the bed and kicked off her shoes.

"We don't have to play any more games with my skirt, do we?", she said, as with careless grace she undid the catch and slid down the zipper on its side, shimmied it down her hips a bit, and let it fall to the floor.

She could see herself in the dressing mirror, and noticed that even though she was standing demurely, legs together, she had been wet enough long enough that she could make out a dark patch extending across the underside of her panties.

"It occurs to me that our guest hasn't seen my breasts yet. Though as much as I've enjoyed entertaining -- and frustrating -- you both, the fact is that I'm way past the point of messing around. And I don't think you need more titillating glimpses of my body parts. I'm not really such a tease. My brief career in exposure had served it's purpose, and it's been very exciting for me -- that should be obvious -- but now I need something real, and I need it soon. My guess is that you both feel the same way." She smiled.

"So I'll just undress for you now, just as I do every night in the privacy of the bedroom. You can pretend that you're peeping in at me through the hotel window, if that's the kind of thing that turns you on", she added, with a wink at Mr. X. "But really, you're not peeping, are you? I know that I'm being watched, and yet I'm still going to take my clothes off in front of a stranger. Aren't I shameless? Shouldn't I be embarrassed casually stripping in front of you?"

She made a show of regarding herself ostentatiously in the mirror.

"I don't know," replied Mr. X with a hint of ironic dismissal -- getting into it, playing his assigned role -- "you've already shown me your pussy. In fact, you've spread it wide open for me. Why pretend that you have anything left really worth hiding?"

She rewarded him with a slight, almost shy, smile. She found that she liked the mildly disparaging tone that he was assuming. It made her feel especially naughty; like she wasn't pretending anymore; like all of her many other assets didn't hold any value in this context; like she was just another available pussy; a promiscuous, bored, horny, slightly kinky, secretly submissive, middle-aged, sex-starved barfly. Maybe he really did think she was a slut, but the important thing was that he was ready to act as though she was.

"That's a good little slut. Show me what you wear under your fancy clothes."

She unbuttoned her satin top efficiently.

"You like me watching you undress. You couldn't wait for me to look at your body, could you?"

She got an uncanny, mesmerizing, weightless feeling in her stomach every time his gaze or words reinforced her self-constructed image as the mis-behaving wife. A wife who was now standing mostly nude, wearing nothing but her inexpensive everyday underwear in front of a well-dressed handsome older stranger that she had found in a bar. A wife who was obviously offering herself for casual sex without even a pretence of wanting anything else but that. How slutty was that, really? She shivered inside with appreciation for what she was doing, and in anticipation of the next simple step.

She slid her bra off without ceremony. Her breasts were nice and firm and round -- modest, but lovely. Her nipples were large and fully engorged, looking like very over-sized pencil erasers.

The air felt cool on her skin as she remained standing there in her panties. What next? She needed to get Mr. X ready for the following step, without panicking Cedric. As usual, she had thought this through ahead of time, and already had a tactic in mind. 

She walked toward Mr. X, then slowly got down on her knees; in self-conscious imitation of what she had done with her husband the night before. She undid his belt-buckle, then his trouser button; and then unzipped his fly, easing his trousers down to his thighs. She pulled his briefs down and for the first time got a look at his penis. Like her husband's, it was uncut; unlike her husbands, it was of moderate length and not very wide. But it was also very hard.

"That'll do nicely", she thought to herself as she gazed at it.

She moved her face toward Mr. X's crotch. She paused, opened her mouth wide, and moved forward further until her mouth was just surrounding the head of the cock. She watched her husband's face out of the corner of her eye as she did this. As she had anticipated, he seemed comfortable with her actions so far -- any worry he may have felt eased by his memory of what had happened the previous night, when she had left him hanging after exactly the same maneuver. He gave her a knowing smile, as if to say "Now, let's see how this guy likes your cock-teasing!"

She held her mouth in that position for five or ten seconds. And then... she slowly closed it, pressing her lips around the head of Mr. X's cock, watching Cedric's face registering shock; giving her a sharp what-the-fuck look. But it was too late for him to object now!

She congratulated herself on her little ploy as she swirled her tongue around the head of this brand new (to her) penis. She carried on like that for a minute or so, giving Mr. X's cock head a nice warm, wet tongue bath, but never taking him further into her mouth. Then she relaxed her lips and moved her head back away from him. She kneeled there for another half a minute or so, then pulled his pants off all of the way, helped him step out of them, and gestured him to one of the comfortable side chairs across from the bed.

As Cedric had been threatening to voice an objection, she held her hand out, palm raised, bidding him to be quiet.

"Don't worry, darling. Remember, I told you that my pussy was for your cock only, and I think you'll enjoy this next part. Mr. X will just have to sit there and watch."

While she mused to herself about the relative ethics of lies of omission, and the fine line between a bit of creative social engineering and outright manipulation, she climbed up on to the bed and got on to all fours. This too, was a replay of last night. She pulled her panties down to where her knees bent to meet the bed and forced her knees apart to spread her cunt for easier access, incidentally making her panties stretch out between her knees, forming a little inside-out hammock. She knew that Cedric would find the view of her pussy exposed, her lips hanging down between her inviting ass cheeks, and even the tell-tale wet interior crotch panel suspended above the bed between her knees -- these little details materred! -- completely irresistible.

"Take me, Cedric. Fuck me in front of this guy. Show him how you bred me. Show him how a slut like me should be fucked."

He pulled his cloths off as quickly as he could, all the time staring at her upturned slightly wiggling behind. Then he moved quickly toward her, clasped her cheeks with his strong hands, and pushed straight in to her in a single animal lunge.

"Urghh! Ngghh. Fuck yes. Fuck yes. Push it into me. Push your long hard cock in to me."

He grasped her cheeks harder, his finger digging in to their soft flesh. He ground into her backside, forcing her ever further down into the mattress as she pushed back against him. Sometimes, when he was very hard, she did feel that she might not be able to take him all in, and she had never felt more like that then she did now. She felt his hard cock seem to hit the end of her, to the point were it was actually almost painful. Sharp. Intense. But she didn't want him to stop, not by any means. The harder he could shove into her, the deeper he could push, the happier she was.

"Fuck me. Fuck me hard. Show him what you can do to me. Fuck me."

"Yes, I'm going to fuck the shit out of you. Just like a slut like you deserves."

He began to thrust in and out of her, plowing into her with deep, hard, almost ruthless strokes.

How he avoided cumming, she didn't know. He was usually very much in control, but fucking her from behind always pushed him over the top. Perhaps it was the potential of another partner willing and eager to take his place that kept him from loosing everything he had into her. It probably helped that her pussy was so click and slippery and open.

But her husband had been able to hold out, and now it was time for her to get what she really wanted, what she had been fantasizing for for so long now, but which she would never have even considered in the realm of reality until the combined elements of: a) her annoyance with her husband, b) the peak of her monthly cycle, c) her inadvertent exposure, d) her insatiable cunt, e) her inventive imagination, and f) her excellent planning skills had all conspired together last night to come up with:

A Cunning Plan.

Her plan, for all of its complexities and side-benefits, was entirely in the service of one over-arching, simple goal: To get herself completely, utterly, totally fucked.

She loved getting fucked more than almost anything else. She had never really talked about this with other women -- it was certainly not the kind of topic that came up in conversation with her liberated professional friends! But she was sure that she wasn't the only woman to feel this way. In fact, she felt it was a very natural thing to want, but one that had been papered over in contemporary society -- and for very good reason too. There were still plenty of men around who worked in every way they could to take the natural (but not singular) instinct of many women to be loved and bred and fucked, and pervert that into a society that forced women into the role of barefoot and pregnant mothers who had simply been fucked over. In any case, regardless of the sexual politics involved, she loved to feel used, to feel -- if only temporaily -- that the primary purpose of her body was to pleasure a cock and to be a container for cum.

So, the more truly fucked she could feel, the better she liked it. It was almost like an addiction, but not an insatiable one. She knew that if she could get to the place just once where she had been as fucked as she could possibly be, that would be enough for her. But how to get there? How to achieve the peak of pure fucked-edness she aspired to?

For many years, she had pondered that question during her not infrequent sexual day-dreams. One way to get that feeling of being completely fucked was to be fucked by a very large cock. But she already had that, and she had found that that wasn't quite enough. Perhaps being observed while being fucked would help, but she was pretty sure that it wouldn't be enough to take her over the "well and truly fucked" threshold. Finally, after long and careful consideration, she had determined that there was one and only one way to get there. And ever since she realized that that was what she needed, she hadn't been able to let it go.

What she really needed was to get fucked by more than one cock.

Yes, getting fucked by one cock was wonderful, but she needed to know what it was like to take more than one. Whenever she masturbated on her own, she fantasized about it. Images of multiple cocks dominated her raunchiest dreams. Sometimes she found herself in the middle of the day pondering what it would be like, and then spent the rest of the day craving it.

Of course, she had shared her fantasies with her husband, but had never really articulated how strong a grip the fantasy held over her, how much more visceral it felt to her, how she sometimes felt that she just needed to have it actually happen. When making love, she'd sometimes think about how it would feel, and she'd imagine the positions of other lovers while her husband was fucking her. Once in a while, in the throughs of passion, during intense mutual fantasies, she'd even vocalized this. "One is not enough, I need more cock."

But whenever their fantasies had become especially heated, she'd always ended by reassuring her husband. When she said that 'my pussy is only for your cock', she meant it. She could never forgive herself if her needs drove her to deceive him. But last night, as she was thinking through various scenarios, she had worked out a way to get what she needed while preserving the bounds of marriage; without violating the most basic of fidelities. She could finally satisfy her cravings, and do so without deceit.

But there was a subtle, previously unconscious, assumption hidden amongst the words she said to her husband -- what mattered was not what she'd included in her promise, but what she'd left out. She hadn't, for example, included her mouth. Or for that matter, she hadn't exclude body-parts-other-than-cocks. Sure, her solution might seem a little lawyerly -- ok, straight from the Bill Clinton school of sexual ethics -- but it also wasn't simply a cheap cover to give her freedom to do whatever she wanted. She looked at it now as a simple carve out of additional rights and responsibilities, rather than a wholesale abandonment of core principles. And her looser interpretation was governed by a strict set of additional self-imposed rules. In any case, he'd have to go agree to everything. Still, while she would stick to her basic principles, she wasn't above a bit of leading-by-the-cock to get where she wanted to go. In any case, now was the time where all of her careful analysis would be tested.

As her husband continued to slowly and skillfully fuck her, she looked around behind her to where Mr. X was sitting and gave him her best come-hither naughty school girl look. He got the idea immediately, stood up, and walked to the side of the bed. Cedric continued to fuck her, slowing a bit, that what-the-fuck expression returning to his face.

Better move this along quickly, she thought to herself, indicating with her eyes where she wanted Mr. X to situate himself. He climbed up on to the bed and kneeled beside her, manoeuvring a bit awkwardly to get his hips near her head. She looked back at her husband, who was still hard, still fucking her, but waning somewhat.

"Darling, I don't know how I can even dare to ask this of you. We've done some crazy stuff today, and I've done stuff I know you've loved to see me do, but my real fantasy hasn't happened yet. There is something I really want... Something I've wanted for a long time."

He'd slowed almost to a stop now -- giving her a really-I-mean-it-what-the-fuck-is-going-on face now.

With her husband's cock inside of her, and Mr. X kneeling next to her, his cock pointing directly at her face, this wasn't really the time for speeches. But she felt that she had to be sure that this would be ok; had to give Cedric a real choice.

"I know I already put my mouth on his cock, but honestly, I didn't really do it for my own benefit. What I really want is..."

"I... I want to suck a cock while you fuck me. This is something I desperately want to do. But it isn't something that I have to do. We can stop this right now if you want. I mean it. Your happiness means more to me than anything else, and..."

As she said this, she noticed something interesting about her words. She hadn't said "his cock", she'd said "a cock". Her motivation was pure. She didn't care a thing for Mr. X. All that was relevant about him was the one key piece of equipment he'd brought to the room with him. Perhaps her husband had noticed the same subtle turn of phrase. In any case, his reply came as an enormous relief.

"No, I'm not going to stop you. I want you to do this. I want to watch you do it. I want it most of all because you want it -- I can see how badly you want it, and that turns me on more than you can know. But," he said with a grin, "I also want it because from now on when I call you my slut, we'll both have this perfect image in our minds. You can't be more of a slut than you're about to be now."

As he said this, his cock got fully hard again, and the the pace of his pumping and grinding grew.

She turned then to face Mr. X's cock, opened her mouth, and took his cock in to it. She pressed her tongue around that cock, took it further into her mouth, began to move her head back and forth along it. Closing her eyes for a few moments, she felt Mr. X put his hands on her head and gently encourage her movements.

The realization of what was happening to her exploded in her mind. She felt like she'd been dropped out of an airplane. "Oh God. Oh God. This is it. This is it. Oh God." Wave after wave of churning recognition washed over her. For the first time in her life, she had a penis in her vagina and in her mouth at the same time; she was getting fucked by two cocks, she was being taken in the front and in behind.

She knew the picture she was presenting -- in fact, she could see herself vaguely reflected in the glass of a picture on the wall. Her posture was that of the ultimate whore. Except, as her husband had playfully reminded her when all of this was just a fantasy, a whore got paid, and she was assuming this position for free. On all fours, sucking cock, getting fucked, breasts hanging down from her body. The image did actually have a bit of the barnyard to it, and also brought to mind those most bawdy 16th century stories involving lonely highway inns and drunken brigands having their way with the bar wenches. It was the kind of thing that only porn stars did. And while she was completely turned off by porn videos, and she didn't feel at all porn star fake and cheesy, she did feel cheap and easy and used. And she loved it.

And then there were the sounds. She was of course moaning and groaning, but the sound was muffled because her mouth was filled with someone's cock. She was repeating mantras in her mind which found there way to her throat whenever she came up for air. "Oh God. Oh God." "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." Adding to that, her body itself was making noise. Slobbery sucking noises from her mouth, and sloppy squelching noises from her cunt.

And the smells. She could smell the excitement, the pheromone rich, musky odor coming from her body, the sweaty manly smell coming from Mr. X's cock so close to her nose. And also, the taste of his cock, slightly tangy, and the silkiness of the pre-cum leaking out of it.




Plan C, Phase 07



When she'd been imagining the details of this happening, she'd run through many different variations of the shape and size of the other cock. What would be ideal? No doubt, she liked big cocks, and if someone else were reading her thoughts -- reading them in some trashy erotic story for example -- they would expect something like "the biggest, fattest cock she had ever seen, making her gasp as she took it into her waiting pussy". A cock that would make her afraid "it would rip her open, making her stretched-out fuck-hole useless for her husband's pin-dick". But actually, what she really wanted was exactly what Mr. X provided: A reasonable, average-sized cock, perhaps a bit on the shorter side -- still at least a good six inches fully erect.

Why did she want this other cock to be smaller than her husband's? Well, there was an element of preservation of her husband's ego. She didn't want him to spend the rest of his life wondering if she loved another cock more than his. Not that that there was much risk of that -- a cock larger than her husband's would be difficult to find. She'd never seen one, anyway, and she'd had the opportunity to sample dozens -- she'd never been outright promiscuous, but she'd been sexually precocious, she'd dated a lot before and after her first marriage, and she'd always enjoyed sex. So, the only way she might find a larger cock would be to advertise on Craig's List for "BBC" (or Big White one for that matter) and then to sift through scores of pretenders and embellishers. Not something that appealed to her, to say the least!

No, she wanted her handsome, viral stranger to have a smaller dick for one good reason. In order to be truly fucked by multiple cocks, she felt she needed to take each cock fully into her. No half or even three-quarter measures. She'd never been able to take her husband's cock fully into her mouth, and the idea of learning exotic deep throating techniques left her cold. She just wanted to take a whole cock in her mouth, it didn't really matter how large it was. And now she had the opportunity to do just that.

So while her husband continued to pound the length of his cock deep inside of her pussy, she opened her mouth further, allowing Mr. X to guide more of his into it. Luckily, he hadn't tried to jam the thing down her throat; that would have been a deal breaker for her. But she could tell that he was eager to get himself into her mouth as deeply as he could. His side-ways stance made this awkward, so they rearranged themselves so that Mr. X was a bit more underneath her.

As his cock moved further into her throat, she felt herself gagging -- in fact she found she couldn't help drooling a bit, her saliva dripping out of her mouth and down her cheek. Ordinarily, that would have completely grossed her out, made her want to stop, but now it only contributed to her feeling of being used; in the best, raunchiest, most debased and most deeply gratifying sense of the word. As he continued to push his cock into her mouth, past the base of her tongue, it began to feel more manageable and she found that the sensation wasn't so bothersome. It was almost pleasant, though she did have to make an effort to relax the mild sense of panic she felt and work at breathing through her nose. But the more important thing was how it made her feel deep inside. The closer she got to taking this cock fully into her mouth, the closer she got to her ultimate goal, the closer to being completely taken.

Finally, Mr. X's cock had begun to penetrate her mouth to the limit. Like the cork on a bottle of champagne, it hit its stop and simple couldn't go any deeper. At that point, his pubic bone came to a rest pressing against her cheek, and his testicles actually brushed up against her chin. Her muffled moans had begun to be accompanied by a kind of humming -- "Ah. Ah. Ah." -- and now as he reached the deepest point they turned into more of a "Ggh. Ggh. Ggh."

Mr. X began to rock back and forth on his knees, moving her head toward his cock to meet his thrusting, and away from his cock as he retreated. The open grasp of his hands on her head had become stronger. Not painful or rough, but strong enough to control her movements and get her mouth where he wanted it in time with each thrust. So this was what it was like to be mouth fucked -- it sounded so crude, but however it sounded, it was exactly what she wanted. Cedric was still gripping tightly to her buttocks as he pumped in and out of her and as she willingly met each of their thrusts, the three of them soon establishing a rhythm.

Now she was being more than (just) fucked in her mouth and cunt at the same time, she was being (fully! totally!) fucked in that way. And unlike so many other things, this experience was every bit as good, as satisfying, as complete as she had thought it would be. In and out. In and out. Taken and released. Pushed and pulled. Entered and exited. Fucked, fucked, fucked, over and over and over and over.

She dropped all of her thoughts and lost herself in the sensation and realization of what was happening. And they began to talk to her. Began to narrate what was happening, and their words weaved in and out of her mind. They described who she had imagined herself to be in her dirtiest, deepest dreams -- but now they also described her accurately as she was.

"You like that? You like to swallow cock? I can tell you love it. Most women really don't, but you do, don't you."

"I'm going to bury my cock in your pussy. I'm going to fuck you harder than you've ever been fucked, and you're going to love it. Your cunt was made to be fucked like this, wasn't it?"

As they said these nasty, dirty things to here, she made whatever little assenting noises she could, given that her mouth was stuffed with cock.

"Uhuh. Mmm..yesh. UmmUmmUmm. UmHmm UmHmm UmHmm. Ahummmmmmmmurrrrgh. Urrrr..Ghg! Ghg."

"You're such a good little cock-sucker. You must have had a lot of practice, huh? I knew it. I knew you were a slut when you first spread your legs for me. I said to myself, she might look like a self-respecting woman but I bet she'd get down on her knees at the drop of a hat just to get some cock in her mouth."

"You would too, wouldn't you? It made you crazy showing your panties off to him, didn't it? You would have sucked him off right there if you thought you could have gotten away with it. But your pussy is mine, isn't it? I can fuck it any time I want. You'd better be ready and wet for me whenever I want it."

At some point in all of this, she knew her husband had lost a bit of control. She could feel a stickiness added in to the mix of her sloppy cunt, feel him get a bit softer for a while. After these mini-orgasms he actually seemed to have the ability to carry on harder and faster, free of the concern of erupting immediately. He drilled into her with new vigor, his cock rapidly hardening again. Mr. X continued to offer the words she wanted to hear:

"That's right, take it, take it all. That's what you want isn't it? That's what you deserve. It's what your mouth is made for, sucking cock, taking it down your throat."

She sensed that the climax was approaching, struggled to recover enough rational thought to guide what would happen now. She singled subtly with her body that it was time to slow down a bit, and her partners -- still in sync with her -- began to follow her into a slower rhythm. She continued to slow things down, but with each thrust the men continued to bury themselves all the way. They were so close to coming, she was so close, and it was extremely difficult not to allow it to happen. She wanted Cedric's cum in her pussy now. And even though she had never deliberately taken his cum in her mouth before, had always finished him off with an expert hand stroke -- she couldn't handle the texture of semen, had just never gotten used to it -- she wondered if she might take Mr. X's cum in her mouth now. She slowed things to almost a complete stop, then managed to pop her mouth out from around the cock.

"Not yet. Not yet. Don't come yet. I want to make you both cum, but not yet. There are other things that I want to do first."

She moved away a bit from Mr. X, and Cedric very reluctantly started to pull himself out of her, leaving a vacancy in her cunt as he retreated.

But then, again, Mr. X did something unexpected, something outside of the script, something that provided a reminder that she wasn't in quite as perfect control as she thought she was. He put his hands around her head again and pushed his cock back into her face, rubbing its tip across her lips and nose.

"You think you get to decide when you suck my cock? You think you can tease me some more? Huh?"

His tone was just ironic enough to make it clear that he wasn't really forcing her, but just aggressive enough to make it clear that he knew that she wanted to feel that he was.

"Open your mouth. Take my cock. Keep sucking it for me."

She let a gap open between her teeth and he shoved his cock in, forcing her to open her jaw further. This felt different -- not brutal, but raw. He moved in and out of her mouth rapidly. "Ghg. Ghg. Ghghghghghhghgh."

Shit, this wasn't part of the plan. She didn't want him to cum yet. She wanted his solid, hard cock to stay that way. She also didn't want to give up the power that his needy cock allowed her to exert over him. And maybe he knew that. Maybe he wanted to take back a little control. She needed it too.

But she had discovered that she did want to be taken in this way as well; wanted desperately to have him take her mouth completely, and that meant making him cum with her lips and tongue and throat. She could feel him tensing, feel the vibration along the base of his cock, signaling that he on the verge of erupting. She was torn, and she wasn't sure how much she could do about it anyway. She felt the cum begin to pump out of his cock.

"Oh fuck. Urghh. I'm going to cum in your mouth. Urghh. That's it. Take it. Take it."

And then she felt so dirty, so very dirty. The fact that she was taking this cum into her mouth regardless of how it tasted and felt in her throat gave her a delicious sensation of being nothing more than a vessel for a man's seed -- a perverse and oddly biblical fulfillment of her need to be used -- as out of step with contemporary norms as that might be. But she also needed to exert some control, and leave Mr. X wanting more. She picked one supporting arm off the bed, a careful balance given that Cedric was still pumping into her from behind, and gave Mr. X a quick shove while quickly pulling her head away from it.

"What the.. Hey. I wasn't done. Fuck."

She could see the cum still dribbling out of the slit of his cock. She could feel his cum dribbling out of her half opened mouth. She closed her mouth and held his cum in it, and then surprised herself by actually rolling it around inside of her mouth. She opened her mouth again and showed it to him so he could see the white globs resting on her tongue. She turned around and faced her husband, showing him the evidence as well. Cedric pushed into her hard, giving her a series of hard, almost punishing strokes.

"Are you going to swallow it? Are you going to swallow his cum like a good slut?"

She closed her mouth again, taking in the the frustration on Mr. X's face over his partially ruined orgasm, gave them both a smirking smile, and let the cum roll back on her tongue, swallowing it down her throat. The she licked her lips, spreading the remaining cum around, letting it drip out on to her chin. She felt it begin to dry almost immediately.

She looked at Mr. X intently.

"That's the second time you've broken the rules tonight. I'm not very happy with you."

Mr. X began to sag a bit, began to mumble an apology.

Then she had an inspiration.

"I could kick you out right now, but I have one way that you can make it up to me and my husband."

"Okay," he said. "what's that?"

She motioned for Cedric to pull out of her, and then rolled over and spread her legs, pulling her panties off from around her knees in the process. She knew she was a mess down there. Her hair was matted, her pussy lips splayed and messy, and vaginal fluid was literally leaking out onto the duvet cover. (How are we gong to get that clean? The thought just popped into her head. She realized that she just didn't care.) But best of all, Cedric had indeed let some of his reserves go while he had been fucking her from behind. Judging from his present hardness, he had plenty to spare, but she had that familiar post-coital feeling of cum flowing down her vaginal canal and seeping out of her pussy. 

"You're going to suck my pussy. My cum-filled pussy."

She grinned mischievously, loving how this had turned in to the perfect role-reversal for that tired cuckold fantasy! Judging by the poorly concealed smirk on her husband's face, he didn't think it was a bad idea either. 

She could see Mr. X mulling it over, but he didn't take long.

"Okay, if that's what you want." Smiling ruefully, knowing he had a losing hand. And then he got into the spirit of things again.

"Is that it? You want me to suck your messy, dirty cunt? You want me to clean up after your husband?"

He got down at the foot of the bed and made a show of staring at her pussy, examining it, even critiquing it. Then fondling it, pulling the flaps apart, exploring it.

"It looks like you've been pretty well fucked here. Your pussy is a complete mess."

He buried his face in her pussy. Began licking at her, sucking, nibbling on her clit, and then making large lapping motions with his tongue deep between her cunt lips. He was really getting into it, cum or not! He didn't know her pussy as well as her husband, but what he lacked in skill, he almost made up for in effort. She was so close to cumming now, so close. But she musn't go over the edge, not now. She pushed him away. He taunted her a bit.

"Your pussy is all covered in cum. Doesn't your poor well-fucked achy cunt need to cum now?"

She looked at Mr. X and then her husband, who had been breathlessly watching this stranger exploring and probing her pussy and then going down on her with abandon. 

"No, not quite yet."

She sat up on the edge of the king-sized bed, and motioned for the men to sit down on either side of her.

There was one other simple thing she wanted to do while she had the opportunity. Her dreams were full of images of cocks, and the feel of them in her hands. She loved to wrap her hand around her husbands cock. Now she would be able to have both of her hands on a cock at once! She reached over to the men's penises and simultaneously gripped each one in a loose fist. God, they were so hard. This was better than she expected. She began moving her hand up and down each of the cocks in unison. Both man were panting and groaning. They had lost their initial embarrassed self-consciousness at being masturbated in front of another man. Now they both leaned back resting on their arms and let her have her way with their cocks. She moved faster and slower, playing with the cocks, toying with them, taking them to the edge. Her hands were covered in cum residue and pre-cum. Her mouth tasted of cum. She could feel cum still slowly draining out of her pussy and on to the duvet cover.

She stopped suddenly. The two men were taken completely by surprise. She waited a minute or two, watching their reaction, their struggle to tame their unsatisfied urges. She knew she had both of them ready to give her whatever she wanted. There was still one more part of her plan left to go.

She stood up and turned to address them. "Now, the two of you are going to make me cum. And you'll do it exactly the way I want you to."



Plan C, Phase 08



(c) 2012 Padma Bear

No part of this story may be reproduced in any form, including electronic media, without the written permission of the author. We mean it.

Apparently, this isn't the kind of story that gets a high score around here, but please don't let that deter you. If you haven't read the other parts of this story, you'll enjoy this one much more if you go back and at least sample the earlier parts. The build-up is worth it, trust us! And if you like surprises, don't look at the story tags.

So, this is the end of our little experiment. It's gone on for much longer than we expected -- what began as a private bedtime story has taken months to put down in writing. It might not be for all tastes, but we've put a lot of effort into it, and now that it's done we look forward to your comments on this last installment and on the whole series. We'll try to answer everyone, but please..be nice.

We hope that at least some of you have read like a good mystery -- not ever sure where it will end up. Our greatest hope is that somewhere along the way we've really upset your expectations; especially for those readers who have very fixed ideas about what the correct formula for a Loving Wives story should be. You know who you are! 

-----

Sarah stood at the foot of the bed, facing her husband and Mr. X, regarding them, savoring the moment. She felt a little pang of regret. Not regret for what had happened, or even for how she'd made it happen, but simply in recognition that anything with a beginning must also have an ending. Of course, it was right and proper that this event have a definite end. As she'd told Mr. X at the very beginning, she had no reason or desire to ever see him again. There was one and only one purpose he served -- to satisfy her need to be taken. Once this happened, the experience would be over. This realization only made her appreciate more what was about to happen next more.

"Gosh. You guys really used me well, didn't you?"

Both men nodded, even trading a brief conspiratorial look -- if not exactly as compadres, at least as two men who appreciated each other's taste and good fortune.

"But there was something important missing from that whole arrangement. Can you tell me what it was?"

Her husband, ever the eager student, responded quickly in a slightly cracked voice, "Your clit, Sarah. You didn't get your little clit rubbed."

"That's right. You took me from behind and fucked me hard, and I love to be fucked that way, there is nothing like it. But it doesn't really get me off, does it?"

"No, it doesn't, baby." 

"What do you think we should do about that?"

"I guess you need a proper fucking now."

"You guessed right. And who should be doing this fucking?"

"Me."

"Why?"

"Because I'm your husband. And your pussy is mine."

"Both excellent points. Okay, how should we do that? Me on top or you?"

He thought for a moment, and she thought she could almost see the image from last night popping in to his head.

"You. I know you love that position, and this way our friend here can get a nice view of your naked bouncing breasts." 

"Sounds good. Maybe I'l play with them for him. Why don't you lay down and get ready for me?"

She looked to the clearly disappointed Mr. X and pointed to an armchair facing at a slight angle to the bed. "And why don't you take a seat over there? It's a good spot to watch." She wasn't mocking him, it was simply an invitation.

Mr. X went to the chair and sat down, not taking her up on her suggestion that he jerk off, just watching her, his eyes moving deliberately from her face to her crotch and back again. Her husband settled himself into the bed, and began idly stroking his cock, also watching her, moving his eyes from her face to her pussy and back again.

She turned so that she was facing Mr. X, her back-quarter toward her husband. She remembered the thrill of the encounter in the elevator. How this stranger's unbidden entry had made her feel. The exquisite shame at her loss of control under his finger's insinuations. She moved her legs apart, hip-width; reached between them, running her fingers through her lips, dipping them up and into herself, remembering how Mr. X had shoved his fingers up into her the same way. She felt an urgent need to have that happen one more time. She walked closer to him sitting in the chair.

Beyond her need to be touched again by this man, there was something she needed to know about him, something that required a momentary break in anonymity and created the potential for emotional intimacy -- a kind of intimacy that could be much more dangerous than the physical intimacy of having him in her mouth.

She took his left hand in her right while she continued to feel herself, her well-lubricated finger making small circles around the dense, moist little bump of her clit, getting herself right up to that line and then back again. He had the hands of a pianist -- long, strong, elegant fingers, with well-manicured nails.

Looking at the hand, she made a show of regarding his ring finger. There was a suggestion of where a ring had been, perhaps a faint outline against his late summer tan. She affected a teasing tone.

"What would your wife say," she cooed, "knowing you'd been getting your cock sucked off by a married woman you met at a bar?"

She watched a run of involuntary emotions play across his face, all in a few brief moments: a flash of memory and fondness, a wince of pain, and finally a deliberate composure.

"She wouldn't say anything," he said ruefully, a bare trace of amusement on his lips. "She's been dead for eighteen months now."

"Oh." She gasped, her hand dropping his and flying up to her mouth. "I'm so sorry."

She felt sudden regret at her assumption that he was a man without his own ethical standards -- and at her presumption in moving beyond the rules that she herself had established.

"Don't be." And now he grinned boyishly. "You're the first naked woman I've seen in all of that time."

"How long were you married?"

He looked at her, baffled.

"Fourteen years."

She had to ask:

"Did you ever cheat on her?"

His pissed-off reply was thoroughly genuine:

"What kind of question is that? Of course I didn't. I loved my wife."

He brought his hand up to her breast level, showing it to her.

"In fact, if you must know, I only took off my ring a few weeks ago. I'd grown tired of my friends pestering me to find a new woman, or to 'at least go out and get layed'. But as much as I like the latter idea, I'm just not ready to face the consequences of the former one. And, women being women, I knew that emotional complications are inevitable whenever sex is involved. I can't deal with that. Not yet."

He paused and laughed.

"But I didn't count on you. Here there aren't any complications. You just happen to be an available slut looking to have her body used but who's tied down with other commitments."

He glanced at her husband significantly, eye-brows raised.

"I get to play with a good-looking, bright, well-put-together woman, and treat her like the bad girl she really wants to be. Get to play with her cunt and then leave, no questions asked. What more could I want?"

And with that he brought his hand to her mound and thrust his fingers up inside of her, adroitly ending the awkward moment -- and replacing it with one that should have been far more awkward but somehow wasn't.

Standing there, legs spread, letting herself be stroked by this strange man, the blinds of the hotel window half-opened, her body exposed, she responded in kind.

"I hope you like my cunt then. I hope you like having your finger up it."

"Yes, it's wet enough. It's slippery... and easy."

He took his finger back out of her and his voice took on a commanding tone.

"Spread your legs."

She sidled her legs apart a bit.

"Farther! I want to see your puffy lips hanging down from your dripping pussy."

He watched her move her legs apart till she was standing there well spread -- as if ready to do a deep forward bend. It felt so vulgar, ridiculous and... satisfying to be standing there in front of him like that. He groped a finger back inside of her.

"You need another finger in there."

She got his drift and joined the game.

"Oh, is my pussy too much for your little finger?"

His ring finger joined his index as they both moved up and around inside of her, freely exploring.

"Yeah," he said, deliberately running it around the outer edges of her pussy. "Your pussy feels a little too open. You need even more."

He pushed the middle three fingers into her, his thumb coming to rest near her clit, his pinkie wedged between her ass cheeks. This time there was some resistance as his half-a-hand pushed her pussy walls apart.

"That's better."

He moved his fingers in and out of her slick pussy.

"But you need more than just fingers up there, don't you?"

"I'm sorry that I can't give you that opportunity," she said, glad to dish it back a bit.

"That's okay," he said, a playfully dismissive tone to his voice, "I like my pussies tight."

She felt that deep weightless feeling in her lower abdomen again as her body responded to the deliberate nastiness of his comment.

Why did it make her excited rather than just insulted? Why did she get so turned on when he said these demeaning, dirty things to her? Was there a mis-wiring in her erotic response system, or did most women secretly get off on the appraisal and judgement of their secret parts, this mix of appreciation and humiliation?

Was this the dirty little secret that bad boys everywhere knew? Every woman had her buttons, and some men had a second sense for where to find them. How did Danny get his finger up Sandy's poodle skirt and under her schoolgirl panties? By telling her her that her little virgin pussy was too tight and that she needed him to fix that for her?

Mr. X began to rapidly move his fingers in and out of her, deliberately using his thumb as an anchor pressed up against her clit, pressuring it more than she would ordinarily like.

He stopped moving his hand.

"Show me how much your wet open cunt needs it. Ride my hand."

It was so embarrassing the way he put it. So demanding. He looked at her appraisingly -- practically smirking -- daring her.

She stood there for a moment, balanced on his upthrust hand, wanting to remain in control, but needing to feel his hand moving inside of her.

And so despite her pride, she began to rotate her hips, wiggling them awkwardly. When that wasn't enough she began to raise and lower herself up and down on his hand. It wasn't enough, god-damn-it! It didn't feel like it had when he was moving his hands. She needed to move faster, began shaking and thrusting herself against his hand -- shameless, wanting only the pleasure of it. Wanting her needs to be exposed.

After a few minutes of this, the effort became too much and she slowed down just as he began moving his hand in and out of her again.

Then she felt his slick pinkie around her asshole, tickling her anus. His light touch felt strangely lovely on her rear-most entrance, and she wanted more. She found herself thrusting her hips forward. He began flicking his little finger across it.

"Oh, you like that, do you? Just how dirty are you?"

She felt discovered, betrayed again by her body movements. He pulled his fingers out and put them back in. But this time he left his ring finger out and let it stray up between her cheeks. Looking in her eyes deliberately, he pushed it slightly against her puckered anus. Her whole bottom was soaked in her own juices, and she was surprised by how easily his finger seemed to move against her, how her nether hole seemed to relax and open slightly.

"Oh, you do like that." he murmured.

She knew that her husband couldn't really see exactly where Mr. X's hands were as they explored beneath her, and it gave her a secret thrill to know that she was being explored this way under his gaze.

Mr. X thrust his finger up to its first knuckle.

"You like having a finger in your ass, don't you?"

She did like it. She did. Oh, she really did. She wanted it, it was true. She bent forward so that her husband could see what was being done to her. She let him go at her like this for a bit more, finding it hard to break the spell he had cast with his dancing fingers.

But she knew it was time to stop this now. She moved her hips up and stepped away from him.

"Okay, that's enough exploring," she laughed, trying to conceal the shy wanting note she knew her voice would reveal.

But really, enough was enough. Time for the final act.

She turned toward her husband, saw with pleasure and anticipation how hard he was. His cock stood up at 90 degrees from his prone body, its heavy veins in high relief. So hard. 

She moved to him, bent over him and gently gripped his hips, encouraging him to move down the bed so that his legs were dangling and slightly spread. She got up on to the bed and straddled him -- facing him, holding herself up with one arm while she lowered herself over him -- guiding him into herself with her free hand.

His cock felt so good slipping in to her. It felt even better to fell her clit caressed and rubbed by the length of it as she slowly lowered herself all of the way down, savoring every inch. Despite the insinuations of Mr. X, this cock did fill her very nicely. She didn't feel loose on it. It fit perfectly.

He husband had been waiting for her attention. Waiting also for a chance to get into the talk that he knew pushed her on.

"You like getting on top, don't you? That way you can get the cock exactly where you want it."

She lowered herself all the way, relishing the groans he made, joining them with her own.

"Ungghh. Ummmummmumm." 

"That's right, grind away. Get yourself off." 

She moved forward, pressing her tender, full clit against his pelvic bone, levering his cock around inside of her, forcing it against the walls of her vagina, moving the tip around deep inside of her. She shoved into him as deeply as she could, feeling it touch her, tickling her deepest interior needs, at the same time mashing her clit into him even harder.

She worked up and down on his cock, moving slower and faster -- getting into a rhythm, interrupting it, then starting again, putting him into an almost trance-like frenzy. 

"God damn it, are you going to make me come or what?"

What she especially liked about this position was the exquisite control it gave her over the pace of the action and over her husband's arousal. She started exercising that control; moving slowly then.

"Is that what you want to do all night? Get your wet slutty pussy off over and over again?"

She moved slower and slower, and as she did so she began twisting his nipples and then nibbling at them. She got to the point where she knew that one little movement at just the right angle of attack would get him off, and one other movement -- well, it just wouldn't quite. She was making him desperate. And that's where she wanted him.

"Okay baby, make me come. You know you need it."

He grabbed her hips and started pulling them back and forth, throwing her around on his cock. She loved this, but resisted him now, moving back to the slower pace she had set, then to a near stop. She rose up slowly hearing his moans then down again, slower still.

"Oh god, I'm so close."

"Me too...did you like that? Did it make you hard seeing another hand playing with my pussy?"

He threw her talk back at her, his words melding with his groans.

"What do you mean, your pussy? It's my pussy, remember? Yeah, I didn't mind letting you show me just how bad you could be. And I didn't mind you embarrassing yourself in front of a complete stranger, showing him how many fingers you could take in your pussy. How slippery and easy your dirty pussy is."

She squirmed, listening to him.

"But you couldn't stop there, could you? You let him stick his finger up your ass."

"Oh god, what you must have thought of me."

"What do you think he thought? Nice woman like you, likes to have her ass teased? And you did like it, didn't you? You liked feeling his finger up your behind."

"I didn't just like it. I loved it. And.."

"You'd like him to do it again, wouldn't you. Isn't that what you're waiting for me to ask you?"

It was. She'd been waiting for this. Needing to make that happen.

"Oh god yes, I'm such a dirty girl, aren't I?"

She reached behind herself and pulled her left ass cheek obscenely to the side.

"What about it? Do you want to play with my dirty little rosebud again?"

Mr. X didn't need a second thought. He almost bounced out of his chair.

"Yeah, I wouldn't mind exploring your tight little ass some more." 

She moaned, a deep secret groan, as she felt him pulling her cheeks apart, felt his eyes on her most sensitive hole. She felt him run his finger forward toward her seeping pussy, covering it with her juices, pushing them down across her perineum and swishing them around her anus, tickling it again. Then -- whoa -- felt his index finger push into her. Felt his pointer finger one knuckle deep, then two. Felt him twist it around slightly.

"That's it, take my finger."

He began moving it in and out of her. It moved with surprising ease, but a bit more friction than she'd expected. It still felt odd, but pretty good. But it was more the experience of having it done to her than the physical sensation that got her off.

She continued to move slowly against her husband, pressed flat against him, while Mr. X stood over her ass, hands spreading it, finger toying with it.

"Oh, gosh. Wait. Please stop. It's too rough. I'm not sure I can handle that."

Mr. X pulled his finger out slowly and she felt its absence. She continued to move on her husband for a few minutes, sensing the stranger standing awkwardly behind her. Time to assign him his final role.

"This is a little embarrassing...but Cedric, I did a little shopping before meeting you tonight. I wanted to have my ass played with, by you, or..."

"Yeah, and?"

"So I stopped at the pharmacy and bought something. Over there, in the nightstand.." She pointed awkwardly.

Mr. X walked over to the nightstand, his cock pointed absurdly out from his body. He opened the drawer and pulled out a small bag. He looked inside, grinning.

"My, my, what a naughty girl you are." He carried the bag over to her and placed it beside the couple lying on the bed. He pulled out a tube of glide lubricant and began undoing the lid.

She lay there on top of Cedric, craning her head around to look at Mr. X. Watched him dripping it onto his finger.

"No, no, silly."

He paused, looking at her, appraising her.

"Your cock. Put it on your cock."

This was the moment. The moment her plan would succeed or fail on. Failure -- she could live with that. Success? She wasn't certain that either her of her husband were prepared for. 

She turned to her husband who suddenly looked a little pale, mouth open.

"Oh baby, this is what I've been waiting to ask. It's what I've really always wanted. Deep inside, you know that. And I know it excites you. The thought of two cocks inside of me has fascinated us. I want to see what it's like. I don't want to talk about it anymore. I want to do it. I want it done to me."

She waited a moment or two.

"But..." she said, unable to repress her conspiring grin, "I'll keep my promise to you. My pussy really is only for you. So I won't let him fuck me like you do..." She moved her body up and down on his cock a couple of time, amplifying the obvious -- that he was indeed fucking her at that moment. "...I want him in my ass."

Cedric's eyes widened. Time to sweeten the deal. She leaned in close to him and whispered in his ear. "Plus, it's just the kind of practice I need to take you in there."




Plan C, Phase 08



That sealed it.

"Yeah," her husband said huskily, "after everything you've done for me over the years, it's just what you deserve. But are you sure it's what you want? You want to get ass-fucked by a total stranger?" 

"Yes. I mean no, not quite. I want to get ass-fucked by someone else while I'm fucking you."

Everything she'd done up to this point had been in service of this one over-arching end-point. All of the teasing, all of the play, all of the risks -- and even the one or two regrettable but necessary mind-games she'd had to play on her husband. True, in retrospect everything that had happened so far made all of that worthwhile. But her driving goal -- the motivation for formation of the entire plan, and the logic around which she'd built up all of its subtle nuances -- was in the end very simple:

What she really needed was to get fucked by more than one cock. She needed to know what it was like to be taken completely. But not just in her mouth.

After all, was a blow-job the same as fucking? Not really. Was having a cock in her mouth the same as having a cock in her vagina? No, not by a long shot. To feel really, truly, fucked she needed to be penetrated. Taken, deep inside. Ergo: to be fucked by two cocks, she needed to be penetrated by two cocks. And now she would be.

She felt a novel sensation then, a stirring throughout her cunt, and then felt a warm gushing sensation -- really! -- like something very deep inside of her had let go. She felt so sodden, so sopping wet that she imagined her less viscous juices leaking down around the seal her cunt lips made around her husband's cock, spreading across his hips and spilling out on to the bed. She felt almost as if she had peed herself. She hadn't, had she? No. No. Bet she could imagine letting everything go, just like that.

She looked back, saw Mr. X still hesitating, not sure if the exchange between husband and wife had really ended. Not sure if he was really going to get this lucky tonight.

"Do it!" She was startled by the loudness and insistence of her own voice. "Just do it, now." Her voice was ragged. "Fuck me."

He fumbled in the plastic bag from the pharmacy, pulled out the other purchase she had made. He must have seen it when getting the lube out. A small package of three regular condoms.

Now she was glad that she's asked the question she had earlier. She had felt genuine regret at prying into his personal life, but her question had been worth asking and she had privately delighted when she'd heard the answer. It was so perfect, almost more than she could have hoped for. She was prepared to have compromised, prepared to be satisfied with a cock encased in a protective sheath. But now she wouldn't have to be. 

"You won't be needing one of those. I want you to take me with your naked cock. I want you to fuck me hard, and then I want you to cum inside of me. I want you to come deep in my ass."

And she watched as this man she had met just yesterday dribbled the lubricant on to his cock, spreading it around.

"I'm...," his voice stumbled, and there was that boyish grin again. "..I've never actually done this before."

"That makes two of us. Well, three actually. I'm sure you'll be able to figure it out. Just take it slow, please. They say you're supposed to use plenty of lube."

He rubbed more lube on the tip of his cock, and then poured some down the crack between her ass. He rubbed it around her opening, pushing into her hole. She felt her stomach turn over as she felt his finger probing in and out of her, knowing what he was readying her for. She hugged herself against her husband, at the same time pushing her ass into the air to make herself more accessible.

"Oh, you really want it, don't you?"

"God, I can't help it. I really do."

Then she felt something pressing against her. It felt soft and slippery but as it pressed into her just a bit it felt hard. It pushed against her passage, but not into it. It pushed harder, almost to the point of hurting. Then she felt her ass cheeks being spread further and a finger on the rim of her anus, gently pulling the opening wider, attempting to guide this rigid-on-the-inside-but-squishy-on-the-outside something into her.

Ouch! It actually did hurt. Not terribly but more than she'd expected.

"Urgh.."

"What's wrong? Aren't you ready to take my cock?"

"No, no, keep going. Gentle though, gentle!"

"You want me to fuck your ass 'gently'?"

He laughed, not exactly nicely, and continued trying to work the head of his cock through her outer ring.

"Urgh..Okay...Keep going."

As his cock-head pushed her apart, her anus began to burn a bit from the stretching. She remembered to bear down and push against it.

"Urgh. Yes.."

All at once she felt his head pop through. Her sphincter tightened around it involuntarily, almost trapping the head of his cock inside of her. But it would need more pushing to make more progress. Mr. X began that pushing. It burned and stretched her. It really hurt! She wondered if she could take it, if it would damage her somehow. But she knew it wouldn't. She'd read that she would get used to it. Still...

"Urgh. Too much. Too much."

"Oh, you want me to stop?"

"Just for a minute."

"Maybe I should just stop altogether, if you think you can't handle it."

"No, don't. I'm good. I just needed a moment."

She heard his tone change over; back to the man fully in charge -- who knew what he wanted and expected her to give it to him.

"You know what? That's not good enough."

At his words a thrill ran up her spine and back down to her tail-bone, jumped down and landed on her asshole, where all of her attention was now focussed, even though she still very much felt the presence of her husband's cock already deep inside of her. 

"I want you to ask me to fuck you."

Oh god, how did he know exactly what to say to her?

"I did. I already did."

"Not properly you didn't."

"Okay. Please fuck me in the ass."

"Do I have to be gentle?"

"No, no, do it any way you want. I don't care if it hurts. Just get it into me."

He shoved into her then suddenly, pushing another full inch inside. She gasped. And she was starting to feel more than the immediate pain and shock -- she was starting to feel a warm, pleasant sensation.

"That's still not good enough."

He paused, and now his tone became more assertive and insistent.

"You've been teasing me for two days. Showing me little glimpses of your fucking panties, displaying and toying with your pussy, enjoying your little Mother-I'd-Love-To-Fuck routine. And probably driving your husband nuts in the process. And all I've gotten out of it is a blow-job. And frankly, if I may say so, it wasn't anything to write home about -- judging from your behavior, I expected some nice deep throat action out of your slutty mouth."

He went on, stroking her ass cheek as he taunted her.

"Now, I'm going to show you what you really are. I want you to beg."

That was too much. She couldn't beg. It was silly.

He waited.

"Beg me."

She did.

"Please fuck my ass. Please. Really."

"Not good enough."

"Oh god, please?! Plleaase fuck my ass. Fuck it hard. I don't care. Just fuck me." She put real desperation into her voice.

"You asked for it."

And he pushed his cock into her. Pushing, pushing, with one slow and steady motion, but still with some care -- not wanting to actually hurt her.

"Ohhh god. Urgh. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck-fuck-fuck."

"Is that it? Is that what you wanted? You wanted my cock deep up your virgin ass?"

"Yesss. Yesss."

He kept pushing and pushing. She worried a bit when she felt a sudden pressure. Was this too far? Could she get injured doing this? But he kept pushing and the pressure eased.

"Fuck, this is tight. I've never fucked anyone in the ass before.. I've ever been with was the kind of woman who'd be willing to let me."

He bumped up against her ass then, and there she was, fully penetrated. Her husband's cock shoved deep up inside of her cunt, his pelvis grinding in to her clit, this stranger-from-a-bar's cock buried in her ass. It was indescribable. She'd never felt anything remotely like it.

And then Mr. X began to move. His cock went out of her ass and back in. It felt weird at first, but damn good. And then even better. The ring of her ass was constantly stimulated and his cock touched every part of its insides. It created waves of intense pleasure that grew and never subsided. She felt sensations from some of the same places she was used to feeling them come from, but now those places were being stimulated from a completely different direction! And sometimes it was happening from both directions at once!!

She wanted to feel both of them pumping inside of her at the same time, hard. She wanted all of her insides to feel fucked at once. She started moving on her husband now -- up and down on his still completely solid cock.

Her movements set off an awkward dance, as Mr. X focussed on matching her movements and she experimented with different angles and rhythms. He had his hands firmly on her ass, but she was the one setting the pace.

Oh fuck! Fuck. It felt so fucking good! And she felt so unbelievably naughty!

There was no talk now -- no point in talking. What was taking place right there on that bed was all the exposition needed. Of course she was bad. Of course she was a slut. She was sandwiched between two men, "Double Penetrated", getting the shit fucked out of her. The only sounds were her totally unrepressed grunts and groans, the panting of the men taking her, and the wet noises her pussy and ass made as their cocks thrust in and out of her.

She was covered in sweat, leaking from her pussy, and her face and lips were sticky with cum. 

Mr. X began pumping in and out of her in earnest, and as he did so he started in on her again, taunting her, daring her.

"That's it. How's this for an ass-fucking? You want it faster? You want me to fuck you harder? Is that what you want? Is that what you want? Is that what you fucking want?!"

Fuck, could he fuck her any harder and faster? The words of her response were indistinguishable from her groans, but their meaning was clear:

"Yes, yes, more, more, harder, harder."

He went harder and faster, driving in and out of her ass, occasionally slowing to drip more lube on to his cock. What would her ass feel like when he was done with it?!

And she moved harder and faster on her husband's cock, laboring to keep enough attention in both places to keep the timing right. She didn't want to fuck this part up.

"You want my cum deep in your slut ass? Is that what you want? You want my cum to end up dribbling out of your used-up backdoor?"

"Yes! Yes!! Cum in my ass, God-Damn It!! Come in my ass!!!"

His pace turned almost frenzied and he grabbed her ass cheeks hard under his hands. She struggling to keep her movement steady on her husband's cock at the same time, knowing he was barely hanging on. She was on the edge too, and it wouldn't take much more for their orgasms to overwhelm them. She wanted this thing to happen first. She wanted to feel this stranger let his semen go inside of her.

She felt it then, a rhythmic pulsing through the pumping. She could actually feel the cum, visualizing how it must be erupting out of his cock and deep up her ass.

His voice became strained and rough, and he almost yelled as he got into the core of his climax. "Fuck. Arrgghhh. Eyyaahhh. Take it! Take it!! Take it God Damn It!!!"

As she felt Mr. X's energy starting to ebb, she began pumping her ass faster up and down over Cedric, her breasts drooping over her husband's chest, her sweat-drenched cheek pressed against the side of his face, her mouth -- emitting guttural groans and curses -- close to his ear. She felt again how hard he was, thought how much she loved this man and how much she loved his cock, and knew that he was on his way. She felt his hips jerking, his arms tangling around her back, and then his cock spurting into her pussy, the subtle feeling of fluid being injected in to her. The fluid that had given her all of her children, that made her feel filled.

And as if it wasn't obvious to her what was happening, her husband supplied the narration.

"Oh fuck Sarah, I'm coming baby. I'm coming! Oh! Unnnggh! Oh my god, you are so fucking sexy. Unnnnggh! OHHH!!"

And then it was time for her. Time to let it go, to release all of the urges and compulsion and bottled-up self-contained passion she'd been gathering inside of her.

It started from nowhere and everywhere at once, a rolling, roiling chord of pleasure, weaving its way through every tissue in her pussy and her ass. She was coming, and coming hard. Harder than she ever had before.

"Oh. Oh. Gaaaaaddddd!! Oh my god!!!! Unghhhhh!! UUUUUUGGGHHHH!!"

It went on and on as she kept rocking on top of her husband, and as she did so vaguely noticed Mr. X growing soft and felt his cock pulled gently out of her, his cum slowly following, dripping slowly out of her still open ass.

Still she kept cumming, in gentler and gentler waves.

"UUGHHH!! Ungghhh! Unnghh.. Oh. Oh. Oh. Whoa. Whew. Wow!"

She came to a rest, sitting upright, straddling Cedric, wiping strands of loose hair away from her face.

"You look so beautiful."

Her husband always did say exactly the right thing -- when it really, really counted.

Mr. X had risen up from the bent position he had held behind her and removed his hands from her backside. Now he went to the bathroom, wiped himself off with a wet hand-towel, and quickly dressed.

Cedric and Sarah barely noticed; they were looking in each other's eyes, exploring the new psychic landscape, their arms intertwining gently, automatically.

Mr. X walked to the door, put his hand on the door handle, paused and looked back. He glanced at both of them, flashed a shy, bemused -- almost wistful -- smile, then opened the door and left.

As the door clicked closed behind him, Sarah began to laugh.

"What? What's so funny?"

"He didn't even say 'thank you'."

They laughed together and then quickly grew silent again, holding each other. She curled up beside her husband, relishing the comfort and sense of well-being it gave her to be this close to the man she loved. Really, sex could be an extraordinarily powerful force, but it was secondary after all. Just being next to him made her whole. She whispered in his ear.

"Thank You."

She felt the very familiar sensation of semen making its way out of her vagina, and the completely unfamiliar sensation of it still leaking out of her anus. After a few minutes, she pulled herself up off the bed and stood somewhat shakily. Time to wash up. She started walking toward the bathroom, noting the hand-towel laying in a pile on the tile floor.

She stopped, tuned to face her husband, looked into his eyes, and spoke, putting deliberate emphasis on the third word:

"This will never happen again."



Plan C, There's No Need for Plan D



I sat at the bar watching him in operation. Stud Muffin was working his charm on a blonde with legs up to here, tits out to there and a brain you couldn't trip over on a dark night blindfolded. He whispered something in her ear that must have, going by her reaction, been the most stupendously funny comment ever made. While he was entertaining her with his witty repartee he was entertaining himself by 'accidentally' brushing one of her double D's with his hand, she didn't mind it at all.

He was tall, with a gym hewn body, a salon tan, fashionably tinted hair, and impossibly white teeth that he exposed to the world at every opportunity. His hands were the epitome of the manicurist's art and his left pinkie finger sported a huge gold ring surrounding a diamond big enough to choke on. To look at him you could be forgiven for believing that this man had the world at his feet fighting over the crumbs from his table.

There were cogs in his head that, even as I watched him, were turning with increasing speed, telling him that this airhead was no longer a challenge for him. All he would have to do to get into her pants was to ask and she would have dropped them there and then. Time for Plan B. He looked at his watch, yes it was due about, he counted off the seconds, his cell rang. "Hi you've reached Winston Jones, speak to me." He concentrated on the voice coming at him over the phone, "Can't Jackson take care of that? Alright, I'll be there in half an hour." He clicked it off. "Listen Honey, there's a major drama at work and it appears that I'm the only one that can fix it. What say I drop you home and if I fix it quickly enough we can continue this back at yours?"

It took a while for this to penetrate the vacuum between her ears but she reluctantly complied.

They left. I wasn't the only one to watch them leave, there were at least two others. In the far corner of the room was the man who, on seeing the signal had placed the call, and the bar attendant, an attractive brunette of thirty something. 

"He'll be back in ten." Her voice was like honey from the fridge, slow and smooth.

"What do you mean?" I asked, intrigued.

"He's just implemented Plan B in which he takes her home and drops her, and then he's straight back here looking for another score."

"You make it sound so callous and calculating."

"It is. Night after night I stand here serving drinks and watching him in action, and night after night it's either one or the other. If he's not bored, or the challenge is worth the effort, then there's no signal, that's Plan A. If he's bored, he looks at his watch, that's the signal for his mate to make the call so that he can bail, That's Plan B. Tonight's a Plan B night, and looking at the talent here, he's going to miss out."

"Thanks a lot."

"You don't honestly mean to say that you're interested in him?"

"No, but I don't like being written of as being someone that he might not be interested in."

"Sorry. Time was that if he bombed out on Plan A and had to resort to Plan B, he'd even consider me worth the effort."

"And he doesn't any more?"

"Not since the bastard got me pregnant and coerced me into having an abortion. I made it very obvious that I wasn't about to go through that again, I wasn't going to be yet another scalp in his trophy cabinet. Look out, he's back."

Sure enough, he walked back through the door and quickly scoped the room. He hesitated for a second when his eyes met mine and, seeing that there wasn't the slightest interest from me, walked toward me. "Sandy, could I have a Bourbon straight up and something for the lovely lady, what would you have?" 

I looked at him close up for the first time and to my surprise he looked, under the fake tan and coloured hair, to be around my age, forty. "The lovely lady is fine."

"No, I insist, let me buy you a drink."

"So that, in some way, I would owe you something. Listen Mister whatever your name is, I don't want another drink, and even if I did, I most certainly wouldn't touch one that you bought me. If you are so intent on wasting your money, by all means buy a drink, but I'll just let it sit on the bar, I won't touch it."

"Now I'm offended, here I am trying to be sociable and you spit in my eye. The name's Kingsley Martin."

My arched eyebrow was an indication that I didn't believe him. "How nice for you." I turned away from him and smiled at Sandy. She looked past me at his face and a quick smile passed over her face. Score one to me.

"Why the hostility? What have I done to you?"

"You've done nothing to me and it's going to stay that way. Why don't you just fuck off and leave me alone, better yet, piss off back to the blonde bimbo that you left here with a few minutes ago, or have you fucked her already, talk about a quickie, it must have been a stand up start."

He glared daggers at me before storming off to sit with his friend. By the way that he glared at me while they spoke I could only assume that he was making up some excuse for his failure to score. 

"You'd better be careful doing something like that, he doesn't take rejection lightly. As you already know, I'm Sandy."

"Oooh I'm shaking in my boots. I'm Crystal, by the way."

"Pleased to meet you, but tell me do you have you got a death wish or something?"

"No, just enjoying myself, is all."

"Don't say that I didn't warn you. Can I get you another drink, or are you going to drink the one he bought you?"

"Is he looking?"

"Yes." 

"Then give me another."

"Sure thing, this one's on the house." She put the drink on the bar in front of me, never taking her eyes off him. "I tell you what, he's really ticked now."

"Good, I'm off to the little girl's room." I swallowed the drink and got up and walked through the door at the rear of the bar that led into the passageway to the rest rooms, hoping he'd follow, he did.

"Listen bitch, what's your problem?"

"Problem? I don't have a problem. I think that you might have one, but I'm fine, never better in fact."

He stood in front of me, pressing me back against the wall with his body, his hand around my throat. "You listen to me bitch, no-one treats me like this and gets away with it!"

"Really? If you take a look to your right you'll see a CCTV camera pointed directly at us, it has captured everything that has happened here, including a full facial of you, and it's even going to capture this, for posterity." I kneed him in the nuts and he went down like a pole-axed steer, gasping for breath as he writhed on the floor clutching the family jewels. I used the toilet and, when I emerged from the ladies there was no sign of him, there was also no sign of him in the bar as I sat back on my stool.

"What ever did you do to him?"

"No more than he deserved, let's just say that he'll be a falsetto for a couple of days." Sandy chuckled as she poured me another.

We sat and chatted for a while as the crowd thinned, and closing time loomed. 

I made a call and waited for a couple of minutes and then left. As I left the bar I caught a glimpse of him seated in his car across the road. I hailed a conveniently passing cab and got in. "How'd it go?" The driver asked.

"Couldn't have gone better. Is he following?"

"You better believe it."

"Lose him, don't make it obvious, just lose him." The skill with which we lost him wasn't something that they teach in cabbie school. Pretty soon the cab pulled up outside the fortress that was my apartment building, you know the type, the key lock outer gate leading into a vestibule, the gate locks behind you and before the security guard inside the building opens the inner gate to let you into the foyer. The same key operates the elevator. All this designed so that only people with a valid reason for being inside the building can get inside.

I walked into my apartment and put my bag on a small table by the door, then, undoing my blouse, I removed the wire from my bra and the ultra slim FM transmitter that was taped to my back. I took the recorder from my bag and plugged it into my computer that, using a voice recording program, transcribed everything that was said during the course of the evening. 

I slept the sleep of the innocent, like hell! My mind was going over the events that have led to this and what was going down as a result.

Sandy greeted me as I walked through the door and had a drink on the bar even before I had sat down. "Guess who's not a happy person?"

"Our friend over in the corner?"

"You got it. He was pumping me for information just before you arrived. By the way I told him your name was Chantelle, two can play at that game."

"Thank you. Has Plan A arrived yet?"

"No, and that's the surprising bit, he's been here for nearly an hour and several girls have given him a ginormous hint but he has ignored them all. I don't get it."

"Maybe he's going to have another crack at me tonight. His type can't bear to lose."

I was there for maybe an hour and he still hadn't made his move on me, or anyone else for that matter, when my cell rang. "Hi handsome, what are you doing?" I listened to the voice on the other end, "Sure drop in. nothing much is happening here."

Five minutes later a man walked through the door and came up to the bar. I stood up and threw my arms around his neck and kissed him, passionately.

"Christ he just about choked on his drink, it must have gone down the wrong pipe." Sandy was chuckling to herself.

"Sandy this is Ben, Ben, Sandy." Handshakes happened and Sandy refreshed my drink and got one for Ben. 

"Are you two an item?"

"I don't know," I said, looking at Ben, "are we?"

"Sure thing Babe. Now where's the man?"

"Over in the corner, by the potted palm."

"I think I might go to the John, give me a sign if he follows."

I dialled his cell phone but didn't press the 'talk' button until he had gone through the door and Winston/Kingsley had got up to follow. Several minutes later Ben came back massaging his knuckles. "What happened?" I asked.

"He came in and started telling me how he had, last night, fucked you so hard and so well that he had you begging him to stop, and that if I was hoping to get any tonight I was out of luck because you had told him you were so sore from his monster cock that you couldn't even touch your cunt, let alone have a cock in it. I decked him."

We watched as he came back glaring at us through his one good eye and with his hand covering a promising shiner on the other side. "Somehow I don't think he's happy." Sandy observed.

"Good. Come on Ben, let's blow this joint."

"Sure thing Babe, but first a little show." He kissed me again and, in full view of 'the Man' he put his hand between my legs and I dry fucked his finger for several minutes just to let him know that I had been told what he had said and that it was all bullshit. He was really steamed up now.

I did my thing and the 'convenient' cab met us at the front door. As we drove off the driver observed him in the rear view mirror dashing across the road to his car in an attempt to follow us. Like last night we lost him, easily.

Ben followed me into my apartment. "How long before we can nail this bastard?"

"One more night should do it. But we're not here to talk about this, do you realise that it's been over a week since the last time we fucked, and I'm suffering from Ben's dick withdrawal symptoms."

"Sorry Babe, but we've both been busy, and our times haven't clicked. But, never fear tonight we are here to rectify that deplorable situation."

Ben, right from the very beginning of our relationship, has proven to be the perfect lover. He is considerate of me and my feelings, if I don't feel like it, which is very rare, he understands. When I do feel like it, less rare, he knows just what I need to experience intense and multiple orgasms. Likewise, I know what to do to bring him to a climax, whether it is with my mouth, which I have grown to like since he introduced me to 69's and blow jobs, or my cunt, which I still prefer. We have discussed, but not done anal, we have never felt that it would enhance what we already had.

I love the feeling that I get when Ben's cock is inside me, he fills me right up and when he moves it the sensation is so intense that it is all I can do to hold back my orgasm. He has also developed the knack of stretching my orgasm so that once it starts I'm in heaven for several minutes. Several such elongated orgasms happened over the space of three hours before we went to sleep.

While Ben and I work in the same job, at the same place, we didn't go to work together. I'm officially on leave, the real story is entirely different. Because I wasn't going to work, I got up and made him breakfast of coffee, dry toast, and more coffee, he needed the lift after the small amount of sleep we had managed after our rectification exercise of the previous night.

"Are we set for tonight?" Ben asked as he left.

"Sure thing. Now you know what you have to do, and everything is set up?" He gave me a look like I had insulted him and left.

Sandy was on duty as I walked in. "He isn't happy again." She said, nodding towards the corner table. 

He was wearing sunglasses to cover his shiner and he sat there ignoring everyone but me. Tonight was definitely going to be the night. I sat and drank steadily for an hour, becoming quite 'inebriated', talking loudly and overdoing the gestures as Sandy and I talked about nothing, which wasn't easy on club soda.

I got up and walked unsteadily towards the Ladies room. He followed and caught up with me in the passageway and just as I was about to go into the Ladies room. "What have I done to you?"

"Like I told you the other night, nothing and I want to keep it that way."

"Look I'm sorry if I upset you."

"You didn't upset me, your type never do."

"What I'm trying to say is, how can I make it up to you?"

"You have nothing to make up."

"But I still would like for us to bury the hatchet and start all over again. Let me buy you a drink."

"That's tha last thing I need right now, another drink. Let me use the toilet before I pee myself." I walked into the cubicle and had my pee.

He was still there when I emerged. "Look, what do I have to do to get you to leave me alone?"

"Just let me buy a drink, and let's talk this though, I'm sure that once you get to know, really know, me you won't be so hard on me."

"We'll see about that. Okay, I'll let you buy me one drink, and we'll talk if that's what you want, but that's it, unless I say otherwise."

We both sat at the bar, I wanted Sandy close by if he tried to do something stupid, we had a drink and we talked, at least he talked, he pleaded his case and I listened. Eventually I stood up. "Come one, I can't bear to see a grown man grovel like this, let's get it over with." I did the speed dial thing for the cab and as we left the bar I put two fingers in my mouth and whistled.

"Why are we taking a cab, I have my car across the road."

"You don't honestly think that I'd get into your car alone with you do you?" He got in the back of the cab with me. His hand 'casually' edged toward my thigh. "Don't even think about it." I caught the cabbie's smile in the rear view mirror.

We pulled up outside my apartment building and I led him through the front door and up in the elevator. If I had been in his shoes I think that I would have been wondering about all of that security. 

As soon as we had gone into the building the cab driver put a call through alerting the person at the other end that we were on our way up.

I ushered him into the apartment and placed my bag on the table by the door. He made a grab for me as I walked towards my bedroom. I slapped his hand away. "Park it on the sofa while I slip into something more comfortable." The last thing I wanted was for him to undress me and find the wire.

Ben was in the bedroom with a whole bank of screens and recorders. "You okay?"

"Sure. Let's do it." I slipped out of my clothes and put a gown on that was so sheer that it might just as well have not been there, and walked into the other room. His eyes almost popped out of his head at the sight before him.

"Fuck, you look so sexy." He headed towards my with his arms outstretched.

I allowed him to put his arms around me, I allowed him to kiss me, I didn't allow him to slip his tongue into my mouth. Eventually I allowed him to fondle my breasts, to remove my gown and take my nipples into his mouth. I made appropriate noises to boost his ego and spur him on to greater endeavours, and to lose sight of the fact that I was very much in control.

I put my hand on his crotch and fondled his cock through the material of his trousers. He reached down and unzipped his fly and, taking my hand he inserted it into the gap. He had gone commando, as I had been told he would. I fondle his cock, skin on skin, and he got harder and harder. "Have you ever felt anything like that?"

"Well I've actually felt bigger, you know."

"Probably on some black brother, but have you ever felt anything like that in white meat?"

"Like I said, but I could be wrong, I'll just have to check it out." I dropped to my knees in front of him and taking his balls in my hand I moved my head closer to get a better look at what was on offer. It wasn't small but not as impressive as he would have me believe, still I had work to do. 

I squeezed his balls hard. "What the fuck! You're hurting me!"

Before he lost his hard on I bit his cock as hard as I could without drawing blood. "Fucking Hell! What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

I spat his cock out. "Do I have your complete and undivided attention?"

He couldn't speak, but he nodded his head so vigorously I thought he was in danger of shaking it off. I reached under the cushion of the sofa and removed a photograph, that of a young girl. "Do you recognise this girl?"

"Should I?"

"Take a closer look, a seriously closer look."

"She looks familiar, but what's this all about?"

"This girl was one of your Plan A girls."

"What are you talking about 'Plan A girls'?" Fear was beginning to creep into his voice.

"Plan A girls are those that you pick up on your first sweep of the bar. She stays a Plan A girl unless you lose interest and in that scenario you dump her and return for Plan B. This girl was your Plan A girl six months ago, I would have thought that you wouldn't forget someone in that short time, especially as this girl fell pregnant to you, and when she, not more than three months ago, confronted you with the news, you told her to get an abortion and that you weren't responsible for her stupidity in allowing herself to get pregnant. You also told her that it was none of your business what she did with the kid, you weren't going to do anything to help."

"I seem to remember a girl coming up to me and telling me something like that, but I couldn't remember having fucked her, so I thought it was just someone trying to blackmail me for something that I didn't do."

"Something that you didn't do! You told her that, even though you had only known her for a couple of hours, you loved her and would look after her, you offered her a new car, to pay the rent on her apartment, you even offered to marry her. Is that your standard line of bullshit?"

"Can I help it if girls are so overwhelmed by me that they are so gullible?"

"Who am I judge the girls. I'm here to punish you for the hurt that you caused to this girl, and believe me, you are going to be punished."

"And just what do you think you can do to me? You have no proof of any of this." A note of confidence was creeping into his voice. He was right, I didn't have any proof, at least none that would stand up in court.

"What I'm going to do is this for starters." I squeezed his balls and bit his cock again.

"Oh fuck!" He screamed as he tried to pull my head from his cock. I applied more pressure. "What do you want from me?" He screamed.




Plan C, There's No Need for Plan D



"This girl was young and naïve, you singled her out of a group of young girls, you flattered her, you plied her with drinks and you made her feel special, so special that she dumped her friends in favour of you. You took her to your apartment where you plied her with more drinks and where you had sex with her, not to put too fine a point on this, you fucked her. Surprisingly enough, the one thing that she was certain of during the whole episode was that she never orgasmed, although you came several times, not once did she."

"So she didn't come, so what? And what is your interest in this girl?"

"This young girl was my daughter Jacqueline. Jacqui was a bright student with a bright future, she was popular with her friends, she was popular with her teachers at school. And you, super stud, you took all of that from her. You sought her out from among her friends, you flattered her, you seduced her. Oh I'm not saying that you raped her, she allowed you to make love to her. And then you tossed her on the scrap heap like some piece of rubbish. You had no further use for her in your life, she was a potential embarrassment for you so you had to distance yourself from her."

"So, what's the big deal?"

"Because she got so depressed by the situation that she took her own life. She thought that she was bringing so much shame to her family that she couldn't face up to us and tell us what had happened. I had to read about it in her suicide note. How do you think that made me feel, knowing that my daughter felt so ashamed of what had happened to her that she couldn't come to me and talk to me about it. She bottled it up until the only way that she could see out of this was to end her life. Now do you understand why you and I are here?"

"What do you want from me? I can't bring her back for you."

"What I want from you is your admission that this happened and your apology to me and, while you're at it you can apologise to all the girls that you have treated in a similarly shameful manner."

"Fat chance of that ever happening. Fuck not again!" Hew screamed as I bit into his cock again.

"Wouldn't it be easier for you just to apologise?" To emphasise my point I bit into him again.

"Fuck, All right! I'll apologise, just don't bite me again, I'm sorry for what I did for your daughter, I didn't mean it to go that far. I'm sorry for the way that I've treated other girls. Now will you leave me alone?" I let him go and he stood there for several minutes massaging his cock before packing his gear away in his trousers.

I escorted him to the elevator. I used my key to open it and he scampered inside and as the doors were closing he shouted his abuse at me.

I rang the security guard to tell him that a man was coming down and to let him out. I also told him that there would be two people waiting outside and that he should let them in.

Ben came into the room. "That was fun. You really made him squirm."

"You think he was squirming then, wait until I've finished with him, then you'll really see him squirm." 

Sandy and Jake, the cab driver entered the room, "How'd it go?" Sandy asked.

"It was pretty to watch, Crystal had his balls in her hand and his cock in her mouth and she squeezed and bit him until he was screaming in agony. He gave in and apologised."

"Now for the final part of Plan C." I took the memory card from the video camera and inserted it into my computer. We watched it as it downloaded, the picture quality was great, you could even see his eyes bug out when I bit him. 

Once I had downloaded it onto a file I accessed the Internet.

YOU tube can be a wonderful tool for revenge, within twenty four hours the site was getting as many hits as the Paris Hilton sex tapes had got at its peak. There was no need for Plan D.



Plan C



He's a man. I'm a woman. Nineteen years was long enough to save myself and maybe I watch too much talk television, but in this day and age, is my virginity really my daddy's business once I check out of high school?

Some people would say it is. Fathers, a lot of them, would say that there isn't any part of his little girl that isn't his business, from the day she's born til the night he steps foot into the earth. Maybe that's true and now you can see the sort of thoughts I was wrestling with. It wasn't cut and dry, and nice and neat. It was like layers and shadows, and all the desires to be me fighting with the desires to be what daddy wanted. It wasn't fair and I'd just had my big chance, taken my shot at some independence, real or imagined, and I'd blown it.

"Why me, Johnny?" I asked, laying on my bed and closing my eyes.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

"A-1 Plumbing, this is Lonnie..."

"Hey, it's me again, is my dad there?" I was calling because I wasn't going to go to my classes. I wasn't going to stay in my dorm. I wanted to go home and sulk in my bedroom.

"Kylie? He sure is honey, hold on..." Lonnie was an old Korean woman and some of the guys joked she was from North Korea, cause she could be ruthless with running the office, but she and I got along great.

More Mancini.

"Kylie? What's wrong?" My dad always assumed the worst.

"You need better music on your phones." I joked, just to see if I could do it.

"I meant besides that." My dad chuckled, so I guess I sounded okay.

"I'm gonna come back home, I'm not feeling really great and..."

"You're sick?" My dad cut me off. "Do you need a doctor, what's wrong?"

"No, dad..." I forced a laugh. "It's kind of a girl thing, you know?"

"Oh..." and then "...Oh! Right, I see, well sure come on home."

"Uh..."

"Oh yeah, you need a ride...Um, hold on..." My dad said something muffled to someone else. "...I'm gonna start calling this place A-1 Plumbing and Taxi, paint my vans checkered, you know."

"Dad..." I giggled. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah...Okay, oh...Jamie's coming back from the Brooklyn job, going to...Shakopee? Is that right?" He was talking to someone else now. "Who the hell arranged this schedule? We're giving all our profits to the Arabs, driving all the way across town...Sorry, Kylie...Yeah, Jamie can pick you up..."

"Jamie?" I swallowed hard.

"Yeah, why? Something wrong with Jamie?" My dad asked and I wouldn't say he was suspicious, not at all, but he'd heard something in my voice he couldn't identify.

"Huh?" I somehow made myself relax, laughing lightly. "No, I just don't want him thinking he's my chauffer now." 

"He might as well be, shoot. Chad's got him scheduled all over creation today. Probably have him turning a wrench in Duluth this afternoon!" 

"Daddy."

"I swear, that boy don't know how to read a goddamn map to save his life. Huh?" Dad got a little sidetracked. "Sorry, sweetie. Yeah, Jamie's already on his way, okay? You gonna be at the dorm there?"

"Uh, yeah, but he probably doesn't know where that is." I sighed. "Tell him I'll meet him where he dropped me off."

"Okay, will do." My dad agreed. "Thanks for riding A-1 Taxi."

"Thanks daddy."

"Hey wait!" Daddy caught me. "Are you uh, feeling up for company tonight?"

"What?" I frowned into the phone because my intuition was whispering bad things in my ear.

"You remember that new man I hired? Rodney? You remember him, right?" My dad was pressing.

"Yeeeah." I said slowly. "The accountant."

"Right, right, well I invited him over for dinner and uh, since you're coming home, I thought you might like to give him a proper introduction." My dad cleared his throat. "What do you think?"

"A proper introduction." I sighed. "Like 'Hi, I'm Kylie and I'm available if you want to marry me?' that kind of thing, daddy? Please, don't play matchmaker."

"What? Me? He's a nice boy, college educated and you could do a lot worse." 

"I could do a lot of things, daddy."

"So, all I'm asking is for you to say hello and be yourself and..."

"Dad..."

"...See what happens."

"...I'm in the middle of college."

"So?"

"So? So, I don't need a boyfriend right now." I sighed. "I'm a little busy, okay?"

"Well, he's coming over and I'm glad you're coming home. It's perfect." My dad decided for me, like he always does. "I gotta go. Love you."

"Perfect? Love you too, daddy." I hung up, frowning over that word. 

I knew my dad well enough to know he hadn't invited that new guy over, not yet, it had just popped into his mind and he was making like it was all fate or something. I'd found that college was a pretty good excuse to explain my lack of a love life, but even my eminently practical father wasn't going to buy into it forever. Lots of girls dated all through college and graduated just fine. He was probably starting to worry about me being a lesbian, and that thought made me giggle, but not very much. 

Rodney was okay, the few times I'd met him, which were brief nods and polite smiles around my dad's office. He was a good looking young black man, tall and a few years older than me, kind of serious and a little shy maybe, or just not extroverted, I should say. He hadn't impressed me much, but black guys never did. They just didn't grab my attention and there wasn't anything I could do to change that. It was the truth of it and if he'd been a handsome white boy, and if my dad would ever set me up with a white guy, maybe I'd have been all over him. 

Dad wasn't going to do that though, no way. After Rodney failed to pass muster, there'd come someone else, and someone after that. My dad would make sure his oldest daughter had her chances and my mom would be there too, less vocal, less assertive, but whispering encouragement in my ear. She was just as bad, but in a different way, and fighting off both of them in the vain hope that someday, somehow I might actually explain to them what I was really looking for in a husband...That was a pipedream.

I needed to run away.

And now Jamie was coming, after I'd basically told him that I wanted to fuck him. God. I'd told the man his wife was a bitch, not in so many words, but what else do you call a wife who makes her husband sleep in the back of a van? It was obvious what my opinion was and equally obvious that Jamie didn't really share it. He loved her, as he should, and I'd insulted his feelings for the woman. Now Jamie was picking me up and it was going to be a long drive home. 

I needed to run away badly.

This wasn't just another bad Monday; this was like the worst Monday of my life. I swear. I was so conscious of it that I took the stairs extra-slowly, convinced the only thing that could make my day worse was breaking a hip or something. But of course, there are an awful lot of things that can happen to a girl, things that make a little tumble down some stairs seem like great fun, and you're never ready for those.

"Well, well..." I heard a catty voice as I walked through the dorm commons towards the front doors.

"Great." I said under my breath. It was Becky.

"...Look at you, somebody rain on your parade?" She smiled and we really, really didn't like each other.

Becky was a freshman, like me, and unfortunately had a room in the same dorm, so we did see each other once in awhile, but generally avoided talking by mutual and unspoken agreement, no pun intended. She was pretty, with short blonde hair and green eyes and a pleasant body, but it was all wasted in my opinion. Becky was a jealous bitch and the girlfriend of a guy named Will, who was one of my best friends at the university. We'd never fooled around, Will and I, but it was useless to tell his girlfriend that.

"What do you want, Becky?" I turned slowly, not bothering to mask my complete disinterest in anything she could possible say.

"I want you to stay away from my boyfriend, slut." Becky was a little shorter than me and so she kept her distance, just so she wouldn't have to look up so much. 

"Excuse me?" I stepped closer. "What did you say?"

"Stay away from Will." Becky said slowly with a long pause before adding, "Slut."

"I do whatever I want." I told her and I was very close now, looking down at her. "And you know what else?"

"What?" She glared at me.

"I let Will do whatever he wants, too." I licked my lips slowly and smiled, giving my eyebrows a tiny lift so she'd just know in her heart that I'd fucked him already...Even though I hadn't.

"You nigger bitch." Becky breathed and her face was turning red.

"Careful." I could feel my heart bursting with adrenaline, and we were both shaking. "That kind of talk will get you tossed off campus, Becky."

"Fuck you." Becky stared at me and for a second, just a heartbeat, I really thought she was going to slap me or something, but she turned and walked away.

I stood there taking deep breaths and working hard to calm myself down. I should have felt good, maybe, not backing down to her, but it was hard to feel good about anything like that. I've never been much for confrontation or fighting, it just isn't in me as a general rule. I like people and under different circumstances I could have even liked Becky, maybe. Or at least not disliked her, you know? So I didn't feel good, I just felt worse because now Will was going to hear about it, and he didn't deserve that kind of trouble.

I almost called Will to warn him, but he'd be in class and his phone would be turned off. It was Monday and I was bad luck all by myself, a black cat walking under one big ladder, that was me. Now Will was going to pay for it, since his girlfriend thought we'd had sex; I'd gone out of my way to make that clear. In reality all we did was talk mostly, he was a friend and a study buddy, one of a bunch of guys I hung out with and yeah, I liked him a lot, I wouldn't mind going out with Will at all, but he'd never asked me.

Stupid Becky. Stupid me. Stupid Mondays.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

"Hi again." I was already blushing as I climbed back inside Jamie's van. "Sorry about this."

"Hey, Kylie." Jamie gave me a smile I wanted to fall into. "Nothing to be sorry about. Going home, huh?"

"Yeah." I nodded. "I'm not in much of a mood for school, I guess."

Jamie gave me a little nod of his own and picked up the mic for the radio, calling the office to let daddy know I was safe and sound.

I had no idea what to say, of course, or even what to do. I mean, I didn't want to ignore Jamie, but I didn't want to look at him because now I figured every little look would seem like I was making eyes at him, or something. I was just really self-conscious. I wished it was like it was before I'd opened my big mouth, when I could look at the man all I wanted and not feel guilty about it, or worry that I was embarrassing him. A secret crush should remain secret, and now I knew why.

Traffic was bad, I swear Minneapolis has the worst traffic in the world, although everybody who's ever lived anyplace else thinks it's great. It wasn't great on this particular day and we were crawling, which was just making things even worse, you know. We were stopped behind some construction when Jamie looked at me and I kind of caught it from the corner of my eye cause I was looking at him too, without trying to.

"I guess that's my fault, huh?" He said with a sigh and I leaned towards him a little.

"What's that?" I asked, thinking he meant the traffic or something.

"Your mood." Jamie said. "Look, I'm sorry I was being such a dope, Kylie..."

"You weren't." I said quickly. "Not at all, it was me. I shouldn't have said anything. I know you're married and Brenda is nice, so..."

"It's not that." He cleared his throat. "Not, uh, not totally."

"Oh." I reached for those imaginary bangs and ended up playing with my cornrows.

"I've known you since you were little." He looked around, but we weren't going anyplace. "Not, little, but...Younger, I mean."

"Yeah." I swallowed hard.

"So, when I see you, part of me is still looking at a fourteen year old girl, see?" Jamie spoke gently and I was nodding. "And you grew up so...Beautiful. Yeah, I see you now and you're like a dream."

"Really?" I was blushing and my black skin must have been glowing I felt so hot.

"I don't want to hurt you." Jamie said. "I love my wife; we're just going through some..." He lifted his hands with a shrug, "...Hard times, that's all."

"You won't hurt me." I breathed, trying to slow down my heart as it picked up speed. "I know you love her."

"Even thinking about...You, Kylie, that's so much trouble waiting to happen." Jamie's blue eyes looked so fragile.

"Not if nobody knows." I promised.

"Secrets are like scars." He glanced at the road. "They never go away."

"I won't want it to go away." I said, but he was making me feel like that little girl Jamie remembered.

We were quiet for a long minute and the traffic moved just far enough so we had to stop with the flagman staring thorough the windshield at us. He was big and black and he just kept looking at me until I turned away.

"I've never cheated on my wife." Jamie finally said and we were staring at each other now.

"I've never had sex." I admitted softly. "Not all the way."

The flagman waved us through, turning his stop sign around so it read 'slow' and I was glad to leave him behind. He reminded me of my dad.

"But I want to." I said, trying to sound strong. "I want my first time to be special, with someone I really like."

"It should be with someone you love." Jamie told me.

"Yeah." I licked my lips. "That's what I mean."

He was fighting his desire and I was trying not to push too hard. Jamie could have me, all he had to do was ask, or not even that much. All he had to do was pull over and stop the engine. He didn't have to say a word and I'd give him anything he wanted. 

Jamie was a good man though, which was why he was special, the reason I was attracted so strongly to him. He was handsome and white and nice to look at it, but that just got my interest. It was who Jamie was on the inside that really hooked me. He didn't want to cheat on his wife, no more than he wanted to hurt me, and yet he wanted me so badly. I could feel it in the air, our mutual desire. It was all I could do to sit there a few feet away and not try to touch the man.

"I could blackmail you." I giggled, because the air felt heavy and we were driving faster now, on my way home.

"Heh." That got a chuckle and a smile. "I wish you would."

"Alright." I grinned at him. "If you don't make love to me, I'll tell my dad you tried to rape me."

"Great." He laughed.

"See? Now you don't have to feel guilty." I stuck out my tongue a little. "You don't have a choice."

"Uh...Kylie..."

"What?" I asked innocently.

"Blackmail doesn't work if I don't believe you." He shook his head sadly.

"Oh, you don't have to believe me, you just have to..."

"What?"

"Look at it like, I need your help." I was feeling silly now, working to lighten us up. "I have a little...Plumbing problem, see?"

"Oh God." Jamie made a face. "You haven't been hanging around with Stan and Carl, have you?"

"What?" I giggled. "God no! Those guys are bad!"

Stan and Carl weren't really bad, but they knew every dirty plumber joke anyone ever thought of, and they could be seriously nasty. I'd heard a few bad ones, but the worst I only got indirectly, by overhearing when the guys didn't realize I was around. Most of them involved women with plumbing problems...Between their legs, of course.

"Good." Jamie looked honestly relived.

"Okay, okay...Plan C then." I decided.

"Plan C?" Jamie tilted his head. "What's that one?"

"It's foolproof." I promised Jamie, trying to think of one quickly.

"Okay, so...What is it?"

"Plan C is when you pull over...Go on, pull over..." I smiled and Jamie was looking at me uncertainly, but he did it. "...Now, stop the engine. Just turn it off."

Jamie did as I suggested and we were sitting there quietly all of a sudden, parked on the shoulder with traffic going past.

"What now?" Jamie asked.

"Now..." I undid my seatbelt and moved out of my seat, getting close to him. "I'm going to kiss you..." I started putting my arms around him, kind of kneeling in the empty space between the bucket seats.

"Kylie..." Jamie was staring into my eyes and he licked his lips.

"...And then we'll know if it's going to be okay." I said softly, bringing my mouth close to his.

It was a slow kiss, a shy one, with my arms loose around Jamie's neck and my body pressed against his right leg and thigh, my breasts against his chest as he sat there. I touched his lips with mine and let him feel how soft they were, how moist and sweet, and I used the tip of my tongue to tease him, running it between Jamie's lips and coaxing him to relax and open up. It was an awesome kiss, like a very first one, and when my tongue slipped into his willing mouth that's when I tightened my arms, feeling Jamie's hands come to my back and head, pulling me against him as his tongue found mine.

I moaned softly and thrust my body onto his, rubbing my tits against Jamie's body as if I were melting. My nipples ached and blood rushed through my head. I could taste his mouth as our tongues entwined eagerly. When I retreated his followed and I sucked him like a small wriggling cock, flicking the tip of my tongue across it. My eyes were closed and everything I'd ever wanted was right there, all my hopes and suspicions, it was everything I'd imagined, just kissing the man. He was the one I wanted to give my virginity to.

Jamie's hand on my head felt so good too, his fingers playing in my cornrows, close to my scalp. He was groaning, as if starving for my attention and I could feel his strength. He wasn't going to let me go and I didn't want him too. His other hand was on my back, finding the curve of my spine through my sweater, sliding up and down and finally finding my firm round ass. He cupped me there, squeezing my ass and I could feel the tips of his fingers pressing deeply into the crevice beneath my denim jeans. It made my pussy throb with desire and I gasped into Jamie's mouth when he felt lower, finding my sex through the dense material, the heat of my arousal plain as he massaged my black virgin cunt.

We broke our kiss reluctantly, both of us panting for air and smiling. I felt dazed and desperate somehow, like I knew I was dreaming and didn't want to wake up. Jamie was looking into my eyes, testing me perhaps as he moved his hand from behind me, around my left thigh, and cupped my sex deliberately from the front. His big hand forced me to spread my legs and I offered no protest, but merely sighed and thrust my hips forward, grinding myself against the man's touch.

"Plan C..." Jamie breathed.

"...It never fails." I giggled, turning my face against his hand. "Make love to me now. Please."

"You're really a virgin?" He asked me and I kissed his palm.

"Yeah."

"You don't want to lose your virginity in the back of a plumbing van." Jamie chuckled.

"I don't care." I told him. "As long as it's you."

"Kylie." Jamie sighed, taking my heart shaped face gently in both of his hands, stroking my high cheeks with his thumbs. "We can only do this once."

"I know." I smiled at him, stroking his chest with my hands. "I understand. It's okay."

Jamie was worried because he was married. He couldn't promise me anything and I didn't want him to. I knew this was probably just a one time thing, once in a lifetime and never to be repeated, but it was ours. It would be a memory and a secret and a scar. I wanted that and he wanted me, if only once, to satisfy his desire to be with a beautiful woman, or a black woman maybe; or possibly, just to see me happy in his arms. Jamie did love me, not the way he loved his wife, but the feeling was there and he would have me in his heart forever.




Plan C



"Okay, um..." He thought for a second. "I know a place where we can park."

"I hope it's close." I smiled, running my right hand down to feel his cock bulging hard beneath his coveralls.

"Me too." He chuckled and leaned down to kiss me. "I must be crazy to be doing this."

"Yeah." I nodded, moving to get up again and sit back down.

It was close, a new sub-division that was under construction, and there were a lot of vans and trucks moving in and out of the area, parked here and there as houses were made ready for people to move in. Nobody would give a plumbing van a second look. It was an awful lot like being invisible and I smiled my approval as Jamie reached for the mic, clearing his throat.

"Chad, this is Jamie, you there?"

"Yeah, you drop off the kid yet?" Chad asked a moment later and Jamie rolled his eyes.

"Nah, the kid's still here, were stuck in traffic so I'm gonna be a little late getting to that Shakopee job, what's the time on that?"

"Uhhh...Before one. How late?"

"I'm not sure, it's looking bad, some truck hit a cow or something." Jamie said, grinning at me as I covered my mouth with my hands to stifle my giggles. "We're uh, were gonna be stuck for awhile."

"Great, okay...I'll tell the old man." Chad didn't sound too happy. "Let me know when you're back on the road."

"Right, I sure will." Jamie hung up the mic and looked at me.

"Do you have sheets?" I giggled.

"I even have a pillow." Jamie grinned, loosening his seat belt.

"Ohhh...You know, I think this is the perfect place for me to lose my cherry." I was letting my seat belt go too. 

"Oh yeah?" Jamie got up, slipping between the seats and into the back of the van where it was cool and dark, kind of.

"Yeah, you know, seeing how it's my daddy's van and all." I followed Jamie slowly. "It's kinda like doing it in the basement."

"What?" Jamie laughed at me and he was kneeling on the mattress, opening a cardboard box and pulling out a clean sheet. "You always were a little different."

"Nah, you just have to use your imagination." I helped Jamie make our bed, which involved little more than tucking that sheet under the mattress and it looked terrible, but it was clean.

"The only thing I want to imagine is how you're going to look wrapped around my cock." Jamie looked at me and I gasped at that.

"You like to talk dirty, Jamie?" I asked in a teasing voice.

"Does it show?" He grinned at me. "Maybe I'm just trying to scare you into changing your mind."

"Would you let me?" I wondered, only half teasing this time.

"No means no, Kylie." Jamie made it sound like a promise and I believed him.

"Well, you won't have to imagine much longer." I started pulling my sweater over my head. "Because I want you to fuck my little black pussy hard, okay?"

"Heh." Jamie watched as my tits were pulled upwards in my bra and then fell firmly back into place as my sweater came free. "Now who's talking dirty?"

"I am." I breathed, reaching behind me to unclasp my bra. "I want my first time to be nasty."

I took my bra off quickly, feeling no sense of modesty at all. I knew I looked good and my 34C breasts were perfect. I played with them while Jamie stared at me, thumbing and pinching my dark nipples until they were thick and long and burning. I cupped my chocolate tits in my hands, squeezing them and presenting them to Jamie for his admiration.

"Do you like my tits, white boy?" I giggled softly. "Have you ever fucked a black girl before?"

"White boy?" Jamie laughed. "You want to play that game?"

"Oh yeah." I bit my bottom lip, wondering how far he would go. "You didn't answer my question though."

"Which one?" Jamie hadn't even started undressing yet.

"If you ever fucked a nigger before." I stared at Jamie, giving the man my very best impish grin.

"I don't know any niggers, Kylie." He grinned back. "But I'll fuck your sweet black ass."

"Hmmmm..." I nodded, cause that was okay. "...You can fuck me anywhere you want, Jamie. Anywhere at all."

"Take off the rest of your clothes." He said. "Let me see your slutty little cunt."

"You want to see my pussy? My little wet hole?" I giggled and sat down, pulling off my shoes quickly. "My horny virgin cunt?"

"Yeah, the last one." Jamie was rubbing his cock through his coveralls as I unbuttoned my jeans, pulling them down my narrow hips and then my long legs.

"Wanna help me?" I was laying down with my legs up and my pants half off, offering them to Jamie.

He nodded and grabbed my jeans, crawling a little closer on his knees and then pulling my pants free of my feet and tossing them aside. I kept my mahogany legs spread wide around him, lying there now in just my bikini panties, white and loose and all askew as they tried to cover my sex. They were obviously damp already and the crotch was clinging to my swollen labia, giving Jamie the rough outline of my slit. He looked me up and down, taking in every inch of my lean nineteen year old body, smooth and brown and soft all over. My tummy was flat, hollowed inward and even flat on my back, my breasts seemed slightly oversized just because my waist was tiny, my hips not wide at all, but nicely round just the same.

"Am I beautiful?" I asked Jamie, knowing the answer already. I could see it in his eyes and in his smile, and there at his swollen crotch.

"Fuck me." He said with a certain sense of awe it seemed, making me swell with pride. I wanted to be beautiful for him and I almost blushed, but I was already burning with excitement.

"No..." I shook my head, hooking my thumbs into my panties and pushing them down slowly. "...Fuck me, Jamie."

I was showing him my pussy, the first time I'd ever let a man see me naked. Even my last boyfriend, the one who'd wanted to finger me so badly; he hadn't seen what he was touching. Jamie could see everything. I pushed my panties down to mid-thigh and with my legs spread wide around Jamie's knees, that was as far as I could get them. I played with my pussy, pulling at it with my fingertips, letting Jamie see how hot and pink I was, my rich coffee colored skin giving way to the moist interior. I pinched my labia, pulling the greasy lips apart lewdly, feeling no shame in my display. I wanted him to see my hole, that soft tunnel that had never been penetrated by a man before.

"You better get undressed." I told him after a good minute of just letting him watch me stroke my clit to sizzling erection, although she was small even then, barely the size of my little fingernail.

"Before traffic clears up, huh?" Jamie chuckled and then he was taking off his boots, but having a hard time as he watched me remove my panties completely.

"Let me do that...I'll undress you." I smiled and Jamie didn't protest as I set about removing his heavy work boots, then his socks and finally I began to work the zipper down the front of his coveralls.

I was on my knees in front of him, while he was on his knees as well, but more upright and looking down at me as I pulled the zipper down completely. I was tempted to reach inside immediately, but I forced myself to be patient, going to his shoulders instead, smiling into Jamie's face as I worked his muscular body out of his uniform. He was wearing a ribbed muscle t-shirt beneath, stretched tight across his broad chest and I could smell him, the strong musky scent of a working man. He was white as snow and so handsome, so beautiful to my eyes.

Jamie helped me get his coveralls down to his knees, so he knelt in that t-shirt and a pair of light blue boxers. I grabbed the hem of the shirt and tugged it upward, revealing his bare body to my virgin eyes an inch at a time. My heart was ready to burst with excitement. Undressing him was a terrible tease and I was enjoying myself thoroughly. I leaned forward, unable to help myself, kissing and licking the man's body as I revealed more and more of it. I dragged my teeth across his white skin, my tongue traced its way to his nipples, first the right and then the left, circling and flicking them. I pulled Jamie's t-shirt over his head finally as he lifted his arms and I kept them there so I could bring my mouth to his armpit, burying my face in the overpowering aroma of his manly scent.

Jamie groaned softly, keeping his left arm up and I kissed and licked his sweaty skin. I was rubbing my pussy at the same time, feeling myself close to orgasm just from this experience. Jamie was a real man and nothing like the high school boys I'd dated before. He was so big and strong, his muscles toned and defined and well used every day. I breathed in the smell of him, licked across the damp hair beneath his arms and tasted the acrid salty flavor of his skin. I rubbed my nipples up and down his hard stomach, leaning closer so I could feel the pressure against my body.

Black on white, just the image of us together, naked but for his boxers, it was making me crazy with lust. It was so forbidden, a taboo that my parents, my father especially, had drummed into my pretty little head since I was old enough to understand. I wasn't supposed to be touching a white man this way. Kissing his body, rubbing myself against him like a bitch in heat. I was a whore then, a slut offering herself to a man who wasn't supposed to have her. 

"Suck my cock, Kylie...Before you make me cum in my shorts." Jamie was breathing hard. "Jesus, you're fucking hot, girl."

"Umm, I love sucking a big hard cock." I said, determined to be just as nasty as Jamie could be.

He was pushing me down by the shoulders and my hands, wet from playing with my juicing sex, found Jamie's boxers and pulled them down quickly. His cock sprang out immediately, stiff and swollen and it was huge to my inexperienced eyes. None of my boyfriends had been large, although I'd thought they were at the time. Jamie's cock seemed much bigger and I stared at it for a moment as it bobbed up and down in front of my face. It was ruddy with an uncircumcised head, the foreskin pulled back only partially to reveal the sensitive pinkish glans beneath. It was thick and maybe not so long as some men, but certainly average at least, and I wasn't asking for any more than that. I thought it was perfect.

I took it in my fingers, surprised by the weight and warmth of Jamie's cock as it filled my hand. It seemed to throb and dark bluish veins ran prominently along the length. I brought my lips close, pulling the foreskin back so I could kiss the head and lick around it with my tongue. I did love sucking cock quite a lot and I'd gotten good at it with my previous boyfriends. I was determined to make it good for Jamie and to take his first orgasm in my mouth. I wanted to taste him and feel his thick sperm in my tummy, and then I knew we'd have a good long fuck when he finally took my virginity.

"Ohhh, God, Kylie...That's it...Yesssss..." He hissed between clenched teeth as I worked his cock inside my mouth.

I squeezed my tightly stretched lips around the shaft and slid down slowly, sucking him while I wriggled my tongue underneath his sensitive cockhead. I took his balls in my left hand, feeling them large and heavy with sperm. Jamie had nice balls, so big and loose and hanging low the way I liked them. I rolled them in my fingers gently, caressing them as I worked my mouth back and forth, taking more than half his penis easily and I knew I would take all of him soon.

"Look at me...Let me see your eyes..." Jamie was saying.

He put his hand on my head, urging me to take more as I looked upward, staring into his shadowy eyes while Jamie watched his long white cock fucking my dark brown face. We were still learning about each other of course and when Jamie pulled my head I didn't resist, but yielded to his desires completely. I wanted to show him he could do whatever he wanted and once he understood that, I felt him take my head in both of his hands.

Jamie held me steady, stopping all motion on my part, and began to move his hips. He was smiling and nodding and whispering soft words of encouragement as he used my mouth like a cunt. He was fucking my face and I just kept my mouth wide open, my tongue out of the way, and my doe eyes looking up so he could see how much I loved being used by a white man. He was moving slowly at first, but picking up speed and going deeper as well, thrusting his cock until the head hit the back of my mouth, bringing a reflexive gag and a bit of discomfort.

"Open your throat, Kylie...Let me fuck your throat, baby...Fuck you look good sucking my cock...Open up...Yeah..."

I knew how to do it and I just had to let him catch me as I was swallowing all the spit and precum overflowing my tightly stretched lips. My throat opened and his cock caught me, sliding suddenly three inches deeper and the discomfort wasn't nearly so much as the rush of pleasure it gave me knowing that I was taking every inch of Jamie's fat prick. His balls pressed right up against my chin and my pert little nose was buried in his wiry pubic hair as Jamie gasped, holding me tight against him while I dug my fingers into his thighs.

"Oh fuck, Kylie!" He laughed breathlessly as he pulled his cock back a few seconds later, removing it until just the head was resting on my bottom lip and I drank fresh air into my burning lungs.

"You like...That?" I panted, giggling and swallowing all the wetness that wasn't already spilling down onto my heaving breasts.

"Is it okay?" Jamie asked and I just grinned.

"I told you, anything you want." I said and a moment later he was fucking my mouth again, forcing my delicate throat to accept his cock over and over.

"I'm gonna cum...Shit...I'm gonna cum, Kylie..." Jamie pulled his cock from my mouth and took it in his hand, stroking himself while I nodded.

"Yeah...Cum on my face...Shoot in my mouth..." I moaned, holding my mouth wide open just beneath his cock while Jamie jerked off frantically. 

It took about ten seconds before the first blast of sperm shot out of his penis, spraying across my face and onto my forehead and hair, the next was just as strong and landed on my nose as Jamie adjusted his aim. His semen came hot and quick, streams of white cum falling over my pretty black face. He was painting me good and I was smiling, moving as if I could catch his orgasm in my open mouth. The last few spurts the man fed to me directly, pushing his cockhead into my sucking mouth. Jamie held the back of my head tightly as he fucked a few inches in and out, all the while I worked my tongue eagerly around him, wanting to make it good.

I kept suckling Jamie's prick long after he'd stopped cumming, cleaning his cock and keeping it stiff in my mouth. He wasn't going to go soft on me, not yet. This was just foreplay, deep-throating him and letting Jamie dump his load of creamy sperm on my face before giving my hungry mouth one last little fuck. It was dirty nasty sex and I wondered if his wife ever let Jamie do that sort of thing to her. If I were married to him, I would've demanded it, I thought with a little giggle.

Jamie shook his head when I started to wipe at the sperm covering my face with my fingers. "No, no...Leave it...You're so beautiful like that. Such a..."

"Nasty slut?" I giggled and sucked my finger clean. "I want you to fuck my body...Fuck my tits, okay?"

I lay down on the mattress, getting his small pillow under my head, and Jamie wasn't going to say no. His cock hadn't gone soft at all after cumming all over my face and I urged him to straddle my body, practically cumming myself as I felt his white body on mine, his soft hairy legs against my sides, his balls dragging across my soft black tummy. I moaned as Jamie found my tits with his big calloused hands, massaging them gently at first. It wasn't long until I was begging for him to squeeze me harder, to really work my large firm breasts good. They liked it rough, I promised him, he could do whatever he wanted to my tits and I wasn't going to do anything but love it.

I lifted my head , gathering a big mouthful of saliva and the bare remains of Jamie's cum, and I spit it out onto my tits, watching happily as Jamie's hands worked my tits around. A few seconds later he opened his mouth, letting his own spit fall onto my flushed skin so that the soft valley between my breasts was wet and slippery and ready for his cock. I replaced Jamie's hands with mine as he slid his body up a little further, enough so that I could press his hard fat cock between the swell of my perfectly formed tits. I trapped him there with my fingers as he began fucking me that way, sliding his wet cock back and forth, adding the constant leakage of precum to our saliva.

"Jesus, you got great tits, Kylie..." Jamie was staring down at me, watching his cock fucking my glistening black body.

"I love your cock." I giggled breathlessly, lifting my head again as much as I was able, enough so I could tongue and even kiss the tip of Jamie's penis as he pushed forward.

It was mesmerizing, being made love to that way, for that's how it very much felt at the time. I'd never been tit fucked in my life, I hadn't even seen it done really, but the idea seemed natural to me. I wanted his body on mine, his cock touching me everywhere and right then it was riding between the twin globes of my tits, over my pounding heart while I rubbed my thighs together, feeling the emptiness in my sex. I'd have to get that filled soon, it was driving me insane, but that's what I was loving about all this foreplay. It was a glorious tease, a torment after nineteen years of patiently waiting.

"We...Better stop, or I'm gonna...Cum again." Jamie was smiling and fucking his prick easily now in and out of the tight soft valley that he found between my breasts.

"Let me see..." I breathed, smiling and licking my lips.

I took his cock in my hand, bringing the head to my left nipple and rubbing his dripping cockhead around that turgid knot of dark flesh. It felt insanely good, see his cock playing with my aching nipple, so brown it was almost black, and long and pointed and horny like the rest of me. I played with my other tit the same way, until both of my nipples were covered with precum and then I let Jamie go, grabbing my tits hard in my hands, digging my fingernails into my own soft flesh almost painfully. I tilted my head and pulled my nipples up so I could just manage to lick them clean while Jamie watched, his cock bobbing every so often with his impending orgasm and he really did have to cool down. 

"Let me make you feel good now..." Jamie said. "...Get you ready..."

"Ohhh!" I giggled as Jamie grabbed my legs, lifting them up at the knees and pushing forward even as he spread them. 

He had my cunt and asshole exposed completely now. I was laid wide open to his gaze and a moment later Jamie's mouth as he began kissing around my pussy lightly, teasing me at first and sending shivers through my body. I'd never had my pussy eaten before, but I'd dreamed of it, imagined a big strong white man going down on me and making me cum all over his handsome face. It was another dream coming true and all I could do was lay there, moaning and sighing with pleasure, rolling my hips occasionally as Jamie continued to torment me.

He kissed and licked and nibbled at the softest places on my body, the light brown hollows of my thighs and the soft, darker flesh just outside my distended labia. He kissed the gentle swell of my pubis, the fatty mound just above my throbbing clit that was covered with a damp thatch of black wiry pubic hair. He moved his mouth down and I was begging him to kiss my pussy, to tongue my clit and let me find the relief that was waiting just beyond the edge of reason. But Jamie chuckled and only grazed my sex with his hot breath, finding instead the tight, florid pucker of my anus with his lips and then his tongue.

"Ohhhhh God!" I practically screamed with frustration and pleasure, unable or willing to make up my mind about what I was feeling.