32 comments/ 59356 views/ 4 favorites Rubber By: kafork4 You are at home. Your wife has a few friends round for the evening. As they chat together you go and fix some drinks in the kitchen, but as you carry them through into the lounge something makes you hesitate. You hover outside the lounge door, listening. Your wife is saying 'I don't know why they don't make condoms in a better size. You would think that by now they would have got it right. They just never seem to fit!' 'Oh, they do make a bigger size.' says ... 'I think they're called Trojans. My boyfriend uses them. I didn't know you had that problem with Andy.' 'I wish!' exclaims Sue 'No, I mean they make the normal size far too big. Andy has to put an elastic band round just to keep it on. Apart from anything else it just seems such a waste of rubber.' 'But Sue, you shouldn't have to do that! God, I thought I had problems with my....he always leaves me feeling so stretched out. Is he so small? Oh, you poor thing. How can you even feel him? Really, can you get any pleasure from something that small? Anyway, you're married. Do you even need to use them at all?' 'Well, I suppose that strictly speaking I don't need to use them, I just can't stand the slimy feeling afterwards, not that he produces much. After all that fumbling and humping it is just too much. Ugh! It just adds insult to injury, don't you think?' 'No, I rather like it when I suddenly feel a trickle of sperm running down my leg as I get onto the train or into the lift at work. It's like a kiss on the thigh, a whispered secret reminder of the night before.' 'God, if I want a reminder of the night before I just need to look at a pencil! That has a rubber on the end too.' All the girls burst out laughing and your face burns with embarrassment. As you enter the lounge, cheeks burning, the room falls silent, the women looking as you with disgust and pity. The next day your wife tells you that if you can find some small size condoms and a copy of 'Hello' she might let you have a few minutes humping time while she reads the magazine. Humiliated, but excited at the prospect of being allowed entry you go into the pharmacy. Your heart sinks at the sight of the pretty young assistant at the till. You lurk by the ladies hosiery display, secretly stimulated by the sight of all the images of long, nylon clad female legs until the shop is empty. You nervously approach the counter. 'Er, do you stock condoms in different sizes?' you ask the girl. 'Yes, of course sir' she answers 'you mean the Trojans. We get a lot of call for those. They're on the shelf, next to the regular size.' 'No', you answer 'I mean do you have a sm..smaller size?' 'Yes, the regular. The Trojan is for the larger man and the regular is the smaller size.' 'No, I mean smaller than the regular.' 'Smaller than the regular? Well, I've never had a man ask for that before, mind you I've only worked here a couple of years.' She says with a smirk. 'I'll see if the pharmacist knows anything.' Before you can stop her she shouts 'Mr Patel! Can you come here please. We have a customer with a little problem.' A handsome young Pakistani man steps forward, followed by a middle aged woman you see every week at the squash club. She smiles and nods in recognition. 'What can I do for you sir?' he says. You mumble something, anxious because the shop is by now filling up with customers. 'A smaller size! He exclaims. Everyone looks up. You scurry from the shop, face burning with shame. Back home you report your failure to your wife and ask her if maybe just this once you can do it without. She pulls a face. 'Ugh!' she says 'Certainly not. I'd be sick. Maybe if you agree to what I suggest you can hump my leg for a bit while I read my magazine. Maybe it's for the best. We can't carry on like this anyway, you puffing and groaning behind me once in a blue moon when I give in to your pestering while I watch the clock till your 5 minutes is up. I've been talking to....' Christ! Talking to...! Her husband works with you. It'll be all round the department by now! So that's why he kept looking at you during the budget meeting every time he mentioned cuts, disappointing growth, lowering expectations...the receptionist humming 'Little Things'...It all makes sense. 'And she says' continues your wife 'If you can't find a condom to fit the cock, find a cock to fit the condom.' 'What!?' you start to say. 'Darling, please let's not fall out over this. We've been doing it your way for too long and it's been a crashing disappointment. See it my way and we can all be happy and fulfilled. You can be included in everything, finding me a lover, helping me get ready for my dates, welcoming him into our home turning down the bed, cleaning up afterward. I want to keep nothing from you. You won't have to suffer performance anxiety any more, as you won't be allowed to touch me again. No more secret, shameful wanking, we'll have a new regime of supervised masturbation at appointed times as I tell you about my trysts. We'll buy you a nice soft towel to spurt off into. A hand towel will do, you don't shoot very far. We can give it a name. It can be your girlfriend. We'll be a ménage à quatre, me and my lover and you and your towel.' Defeated, broken, yet strangely calm, you sigh. Deep down you know your sex life has been a sham. How could anyone with a little boy's equipment satisfy a woman like Sue? Rubber Ball Kate was stunning in her shiny white latex nurse's outfit and cap, white high heel boots and white leather posture collar locked about her slim neck with a silver padlock. Attached to a ring in the front of the collar William had clipped a metal chain leash which ended in a red leather handle, held firmly in his rubber-gloved hand. William wore a blinding white lab coat, steampunk goggles, a bright red latex shirt and black leather pants. His head was shaved. As they strode confidently through the fetish crowd, eyes turned to watch them. Kate didn't touch alcohol, but William helped himself to one glass of cranberry juice and vodka, his drink of choice. Around them milled a cacophony of leather, latex, PVC and flesh. In one chair sat a striking black woman in a red latex Star Trek dress, by a table a buxom young woman in an extremely revealing pink rubber dress chatted up a man in a tight blue vinyl jumpsuit. William finished his drink, reached up to grasp the chain within a hands-width of her collar and pulled gently, yet firmly forward and down. Holding the leash with his left hand, William bent Kate over his knee and slowly rolled up the back of her short white latex nurse's dress, despite her feeble protests. Revealing the white trimmed red latex underwear barely covering her lovely smooth cheeks, he ran his hands gently over them. They were oblivious (oblivious?) to the eyes now turning their way. He pulled his rubber-gloved hand back and brought it against the latex on her behind with a sharp, resounding SMACK! She gasped in a breath of air and let out a short, soft moan of pleasure. A few more eyes turned their direction as William drew back and landed his hand once more on her ass with a rubber-on-rubber CRACK! Kate yelped in delight. William looked around them and noticed several other couples kissing, fondling, and otherwise becoming engaged in their own love-play with Kate and him at the center. When he failed to land another blow in a timely manner Kate turned her head to look up at him (not an easy task with her stark white posture collar locked onto her gorgeous neck.) Her eyes were wide, pupils dilated; they were close to pleading. He would comply, but only when he felt the time was right. When Kate finally dropped her head, hair falling across one eye, William let fly another sharp spank. Her surprised gasp was cut short when William suddenly grabbed her hair and pulled, forcing Kate to arch her back and look him in the eye again. Kneeling between his knees, Kate could feel William's need pressing against her arm and he could clearly see her desire in her eyes. He helped her to her feet and took her leash in hand. Moving to a less public dark corner they left the other couples behind in various states of fondling, groping and clutching. Trapping Kate in the corner William pulled her to him with a firm tug of the metal chain leash. Their lips met and he felt the intense heat welling up inside her. She wanted him, he wanted her, and he was determined to satisfy that hunger right there, right then. Grabbing her by the hair once again he forced her down to her knees. She ran her face greedily over the obvious mound in the front of his pants, yearning to set his cock free. She looked up at him once again and he knew she was ready. William reached down, unbuttoned the waist of his pants, opened the zipper and pulled them down enough to liberate his penis. Hidden from view by his lab coat Kate placed a hand around his cock and pulled it to her waiting lips. She first took only the head, and as he squeezed hidden muscles it swelled enormously in her mouth, pressing against all sides. A moan escaped her as his powerful cock spread wide her jaws. Kate was careful to hold him back, wetting his hot shaft thoroughly with tongue and lips. He was too big to take in completely at this angle and she pressed her hand against his gentle forward thrust so she could see and appreciate him. His cock was engorged and hot in her cool hand; he could wait no longer. Kate took him in her mouth as far as she could, using her hand not only to stroke his shaft, but also to keep him from thrusting too deeply. She could feel herself getting wet, responding to his need with her own. William loved the feel of his cock in Kate's mouth; no one had ever satisfied him orally like she could. She was the only woman who had ever been able to make him cum using only her sweet mouth and talented hands, and she did it often. She loved sucking him off as much as he loved getting sucked. The feel of her lips running up and down his shaft, her mouth moistening him as her hand slid back and forth was one like no other. She had a talent William imagined few women could match, and he was more than happy he was the man to benefit from it! As she sucked him deeper and deeper into her mouth he reached down and grabbed the hair at the back of her head. She moaned deeply (God! He loved when she did that!) knowing what was coming. Now he took control of the movement; gripping her hair tightly, William moved her up and down, faster and faster, on his thrusting cock. Her hand not holding his shaft was gripping his leather-clad thigh, and she was relishing the feel of his powerful leg muscles as he rocked his hips faster and faster. Finally, Kate could take it no longer, and pulled back, drawing her lips firmly up and off his throbbing cock. William released his grip on her hair and cradled the back of her head gently. She looked up at him; his intense blue eyes were piercing and unwavering. Sensing the heat inside of her, William used the leash to pull her up from her knees until she stood before him, cradled in the corner of the room, body hidden from view by his coat. Her eyes burned; her breath rasped. He knew how wet she was without touching her. He could feel the heat coming from her body; he could sense the luscious sweat forming under the layer of rubber. If he could have he would have peeled that dress off her that moment, ripped off his own clothes and covered them both in their shared sweat as they rolled around in a riot of flesh. Not wanting to leave the Rubber Ball in handcuffs (at least, not those belonging to the police,) he restrained himself, if only slightly. Keeping his eyes locked on hers he reached down to her red latex panties and pulled them aside, revealing to his gloved fingers her hot, wet pussy. He spent a moment rubbing his finger over her clit, moistening his finger by pushing it gently inside her and running it over her lips. Taking his cock in his free hand he guided it to her slick lips and massaged the head firmly against her clit, covering it with her juices. Her eyes closed slightly, her body quivered, she gasped quietly. She wanted to be filled with his cock...she wanted to feel it stretch her to the limit and beyond...she wanted him to cum in her cunt, fill her with his delicious fluid. William paused his rubbing and gave her The Look...that slight smile that told her all she wanted to know...he was about to ram his cock into her, hard! Kate stepped out of her panties as surreptitiously as possible and stowed them in one of William's lab coat's pockets. Her cunt was free to the air and she could feel her wetness. Their eyes locked, and she raised one leg to wrap around his waist under his lab coat. He leaned in, the head of his cock parting her pussy lips and searching for the entryway to bliss. Kate purposefully held her hips at the wrong angle so his cock would have to slide in and out between her wet lips and across her clitoris as he slowly thrust, wetting the entire shaft thoroughly. Finally, Kate pressed her shoulders back against the wall, tilting her hips so his huge cock could gain entry. The head of his cock burst through, its sheer size surprising a gasp from her. William was gentle and slid forward carefully, allowing Kate to take him in slowly, agonizingly, until she felt like she could take no more. She was so wet, her juices dripped down her leg, but there was so much more to come. William pulled back, and Kate could feel every inch of him rippling through her. William pushed forward, and the well-defined ridge of the head of his cock sent shivers of delight through her and her hips came forward of their own accord. Soon they found the natural rhythm they always found, their bodies merging and parting again and again, William's cock getting slicker and slicker until they could hear the wetness between Kate's legs. William couldn't get enough of that sound. The sound of pure, raw, passionate sex. Sometimes, especially when Kate was on top (a favorite position of hers,) she would get so wet that he could feel the juices running down his cock, soaking his balls. Now that was fucking! In the midst of their lovemaking (if something that primal could be called such,) Kate looked briefly over William's shoulder and saw that they had, indeed, started something. There were women on their knees giving their men exquisite head, men with their hands roughly groping naked breasts, pinching pink nipples until they stood taut, hands down pants and up skirts, one woman sitting on a love seat giving her companion a very thorough tugjob, and more than a few couples as engrossed in screwing as they. The sights and sounds of sex were all around her, William's cock was thrusting into her, and she was loving it! William slowed his pace, pulling his cock almost out of her pussy. He did that sometimes; he would pull almost out, then pump just the tip in and out of her until she was ready to scream! Then, just when she was about to lose control he...FILLED her with his cock until she was going to burst! She moaned loudly this time, but it didn't matter; there was so much moaning and groaning around them that no one heard. He did this several more times, then, taking a quick look behind him to see what was happening, he had an idea. William wanted to fuck Kate from behind. This way he could not only watch his cock go in and out of her sweet cunt, but he could give her a swift CRACK on the ass with his hand. Whenever he did this she not only squealed in delight, but her pussy muscles tightened maddeningly around his cock, squeezing it as her moistened fist had done not so long before. What he needed was a mirror. Kate groaned in thwarted pleasure when William pulled his cock completely from her. Breathing hard, William held his lab coat closed with one hand and grabbed Kate's leash with the other. Kate hurriedly straightened her skirt before being pulled along in William's wake. She knew what he must be after and pointed him to the ladies room at the end of a dark hallway. Hurrying inside, he found it perfect for what he hand in mind. There was a huge mirror over the two-sink vanity and another long mirror on a side wall meant for giving fastidious ladies a full view of themselves before exiting. William led Kate to the vanity and pushed firmly on the back of her shoulder. Happily taking the cue, Kate bent forward while her elbows leaned on the countertop. Kate looked up into the mirror and saw William behind her, his broad shoulders stretching his red latex shirt tightly across his chest. William's eyes never left hers as he rolled up the back of her skirt once more and slid his still-wet cock back inside. From this angle, Kate knew William went deeper and she felt his cock thrusting against her limits and gasped each time. Tiny sparks of yellow light burst across her vision as they ground their bodies together. William grabbed one cheek roughly in his strong hands and squeezed it. He then raked his nails across the soft skin, leaving parallel trails of joy as Kate arched her back, moaning deeply and gripping his cock even tighter. People came and went behind them as they fucked, most giving them little more than a quick glance and a smile. One busty redhead paused for a few minutes, leaning against the full length mirror, the hem of her black latex dress pulled up, one hand massaging her clit, the other her left tit. She pulled her right hand away, sucked it briefly between bright red pursed lips and left, probably to find someone to satisfy her cravings. William and Kate never missed a beat. As she sensed William nearing an impressive climax, Kate gently pulled away from him, turned around and sat on the counter. Placing her heels in the pockets of his lab coat, she pulled William back into her. She wanted to be looking into his eyes when he came; nothing thrilled her more than the look of intense ecstasy in his face when he pumped his cum deep inside her. He began to thrust his cock harder and deeper, deeper and harder, until she felt she would burst at the seams. She could tell he was about to explode; his breath got more rapid, his muscles tensed, and he began to moan. Softly at first, his groaning reached a crescendo as he pounded his cock into her tight, soaking pussy. Within moments he was moaning loudly, his cum shooting to fill her cunt. Kate almost screamed, his orgasm was so intense, and she came moments after. They continued to pump for a minute or so, slowly coming down from their climax. As they collapsed against each other, they were greeted by a round of applause from the small group of scantily clad men and women around them. Kate and William hadn't seen them come in; they were more than a little self-absorbed. "Nicely done," said one man dressed as Superman. "I couldn't have done it better myself." William gave him a sly smile, looked into Kate's eyes and replied, "We'll see you all next year!" Rubber Doll at the Girls Party Mel always liked the fetish porn – girls in those crazy latex outfits were performing the weirdest things ever... Add to that insane piercings, multi-colored tattoos and such – and you can cum in no time when watching. He was somehow skipping the idea of trying stuff like that himself, but his new girlfriend resulted to be an exact person for some fetish fun... Diana was bossy, a bit on the plumper side – though young and full of energy. She had lots of small tattoos all over her body and enough piercings to live marks on him every time they were making love. Diana was also bisexual and polyamorous – a dream come true for a crossdressing sissy boyfriend! So when he told her about that latex idea, the answer was obvious – she immediately handcuffed him to the bedpost, spanked his ass shiny red and told him lots of nasty and arousing words, encouraging him to give it a try... Mel was excited and began the preparations immediately. The costume was expensive as hell, but he didn't care. It was a custom made full-body latex catsuit with condom-like tube which supposed to go inside his ass, and a huge artificial "pussy" enclosing the balls and leaving a head of his cock protruding as a clitoris, on top of the latex labia. Mel have seen those parts separately and decided that together they should look and feel much better! Costume had a zipper on the back, and could be completed with an ugly female mask, covering his head. The mask had lace on the backside and another "condom" tube going directly into the throat, so the only way to breathe was through the open nostrils. To make the things even more interesting, the "hands" were ending with latex gloves without fingers. So once inside, Mel would not be able to get out without external help. When Diana saw the costume next week, she was beyond crazy – Mel had to don the costume right away, she tightly laced the mask on his head, donned a wig over it and ordered him to look at himself in a mirror. Mel expected that, but still was shocked to see a pink rubber doll with slutty face and gaping mouth. The only two things missing were fake breasts and something to keep his mouth open. Yes, he wanted to look like a whore! Both things arrived next week, and Diana was at his place almost immediately. She packed Mel into the costume again – now with huge false boobs pasted to his chest and a ring gag keeping the mouth open. Mel realized that he can either drool or gulp his saliva. He moaned and raised the hands asking her to get him out, but she was bursting with laughter and slapping him around the room... He guessed that seeing a huge live sex doll asking to let her free from itself was fun, but now the idea was not looking as appealing to him as before. So when Diana undid the costume head and removed the gag, he started to mumble something about changing his mind – and got an angry slap in his face. She told him quite a couple of nasty words and caged his cock in a CB for a week. She also kept on teasing him every day, so by the weekend Mel was absolutely horny, defeated and ready for anything. Diana arrived in Friday and milked him, softly explaining that there would be an all-girls party tonight – and through all the weekend. He will participate as a rubber doll, dressed in a naughty schoolgirl uniform. To make things more fun, his eyes will be covered, so he won't be able to see who is playing with him. Then Mel was tied to bed, his cock throbbing, and the only answer he could think about was "yes, Mistress!" She smiled and told him a safe-word – actually a safe-sign, as he would not be able to speak. If things will go bad, he was expected to squeeze both hands simultaneously – moaning and doing anything else would not count... Guests began arriving about 10 pm – Mel was standing at the entrance, dressed in the slutty schoolgirl attire on top of his costume. He couldn't see who was there, and hysterical laughter of the guests was only interrupted by another joke from Diana, pointing out the usefulness of having a live sex doll in the house. Mel was aroused, horny and nervous. The gag was annoying him, and breast forms were wiggling side to side when he was walking, guided by Diana. The girls were totally having fun – chatting and flirting, talking silly things, cuddling and kissing each other. Head of Mel's penis, exposed as a fake clitoris, was swelling badly against the latex every time he was hearing an especially erotic "soundtrack" of the openly lesbian event happening around him. Diana was participating without minor doubts, and he was able to hear her moans more than one. Frequently after making up with one of the guests she was slapping him, encouraging her friends to follow – so just about an hour later he become a quite abused sex doll at the girls' night... After an hour or two, Mel couldn't remember, he got his "clitoris" licked and scratched once again. Something that felt like hundreds of soft, determined hands were stretching him, pushing him to the floor, smacking him and leaving him totally helpless at the mercy of the girls – all that accompanied by a hurricane of nasty jokes and insults. At some point he heard Diana ordering him to suck her strap-on and immediately gagged on it – but that was nothing compared to another toy that started ripping his ass apart when someone else took him from behind! Mel was dizzy, horny, raped, humiliated – he was just losing his mind when the girls finally got tired of their game and left him somewhere, apparently tied to bed. Finally there was silence, with just remote voices still enjoying the night and Mel was simply lying there, still in shock... then he heard Diana's voice and felt her hands touching him. "Are you doing ok, honey? Having fun?" She sounded a bit drunk, but so completely happy, like a girl who've got a long awaited gift on her birthday party. Mel half-moaned, half-breathed and squeezed both hands. He felt her sitting on the bed next to him, removing the wig and undoing the laced mask. His eyes had hard time adapting to the shadowed light of the room, when he saw her face – so totally happy that he was unable to complain. Diana removed the ring gag and wiped his face with a blanket. She untied him and helped him to get out of the busted schoolgirl attire and a costume. He was soft and powerless, still deep in the subspace. She left a room for a minute and returned with the chastity cage. Mel did not object – his body was feeling like a ragdoll. He barely held a scream when she lubricated his penis and slipped it in a cage, locking the device... "Please go down, darling. I need to handcuff you." Still out of that world, Mel dropped on the floor and moved under the bed, following Diana's pointing finger. She pulled his hands to the bed legs and locked the handcuffs. Now Mel was lying under the bed, wasted and peaceful. Sudden change of light made him look at the door and he saw a woman in a theater mask with feathers, completely naked except for the high heels and a strap-on. He saw Diana approaching the girl – looking noticeably smaller and submissive, as compared to a confident stance of the strap-on lady. "Lisa..." she said and the woman touched her face, slowly kissing her. Mel's heart was pounding. "If you open your mouth, you will have to go home and never return" – calmly stated Lisa, barely looking at him, then turned back to the strap-on lady. Her body language was clearer than anything, saying – she is a girl, and her beloved man has arrived. Mel closed his mouth and swallowed. He saw both women caressing each other, and then getting in the bed. Sound of kisses, occasional squeaks of the mattress, movement of the blankets, soft chuckle... It was going on and on, growing in intensity – then Diana screamed and Mel bites his lip. After an eternity of hard breathing and sounds of kisses, that laughing scream of a satisfied woman repeated. His cock helplessly and painfully moved in the cage. The long, endless night was just beginning, and he was not going to make any sound... Rubber Dress A real life - and not very erotic - story about a prodomme. She had thick glasses. And quiet clothes. And the manner you get with two degrees. Strangers passing her on the street would think, 'a librarian with decent legs'. She actually did have decent legs. More than decent. But she was not a librarian. Come to think of it, she was a Liberian. At least she did have library. She really had a library. As in twenty thousand books. As in bookcases thirty something feet and looming. As in a William Blake calendar. So I am not sure what it is I miss the most: her whip, her wit or her volumes. But she also had a telephone. Quite a few of them in fact. She was constantly talking on a goddess-dammed telephone. As she impatiently explained once, a professional dominatrix spends two percent of her time beating up on boys. But she spends a fair amount of time - I should say an unfair amount - answering pages. The Mistress ruled other people's lives and a plastic box with a beep ruled hers. And laundry. Laundry. Mistresses do laundry. Or to be more exact, their slaves do laundry. Forty-eight dollars in quarters one time. Twelve hundred panties. Extra-extra-extra large panties. Laundromats are temples of female domination. The are. Really. Really they are. You have all these guys being ignorant guys. Complicated matters like white in hot and colors in cold bewilder the lads. But women charge to the rescue. They tell the poor men what to do. The poor men gratefully obey. The good parts haunt me. The good parts haunt me and gives me erections at two and a couple of minutes in the mornings. Her eyes. I remember how her eyes just gleamed - she wore a halo - and she smiled at me and smiled at me and smiled at me that time - a memorable occasion for a number of reasons - she jabbed a boot heel into my penis. Yes it hurt. And I will always remember her incredible voice. She had - has - a beautiful voice. Elegant. Light. Resonant. Real. The faint - very faint - shadow of a brogue. I will always remember her first words to me. I had seen her ad in what used to be an underground newspaper. I had nervously dialed the number it gave. I realize now that some absolute bastard must have just called. He swore at her and referred to her as a bitch or a goddammed bitch or tried to get himself a little free phone sex. (All these tend to constant problems when you put your number in a column headed "Personal Services".) And in a truly great I-won't-take-this-shit-anymore voice, Mistress said, 'Look, if we do anything, it will be about my pleasure. Not about yours. Got it.' YES!! YES!! Actually, I didn't say that. I felt it actually. Her next commands arrived. 'Find a cold and dark room. A room that has privacy. Get paper, pen and a new candle. Light the candle. Put it where you can see it from a spot on the floor. Then undress. Then stretch out in the spot on the floor. You must gaze into the flame. Think about serving me. Why do you want it? What do you offer me? Do not jerk off. After ten minutes compose a hundred word piece about serving me. Mail it... .' When she posed the inevitable prodomme question, I replied that I wanted her to dominate me. I wanted sessions to begin at times she proscribed. I wanted a session to end when she wanted it to end. And to consist of activities desired by her. Or inactivities desired by her. And I would pay amounts she specified. At times she specified. Did she take checks? She did not, of course, believe it. (I don't believe it now in fact. But I hoped to make it true.) The first thing she tried was crossdressing. First because of the overhead. The horrific overhead. She is at heart a pessimist. She ordered me to purchase me-sized pantyhose at a what she referred to as 'a clothing store for fat ladies'. I was to obtain a receipt. With the salesperson's signature. I was to then wear the pantyhose under usual clothes when I went to work. A few days later I put the receipt - the signed receipt - in the librarian's hands. I thanked her for her domination. I smiled. I observed that pantyhose was warm and nice. She looked at me like I had just stepped out of a UFO. Then she commanded me to spank her. I don't care to be penny wise and pound foolish. In female domination, my pennies are my fetishes. The pounds for me are hers. Thus I wanted what she wanted. I also want what she wanted. And also what she wanted. And also what she wanted. But for the record I do have an ass fetish. The woman of my dreams would take a seat on my face. So as I hit the librarian's naked rear, I considered the nature of fate. And my penis curled up in my pubic hair like an earthworm hiding under a bush. And suddenly she understood. Unix boxes had well designed timers. Well designed for slaves that is. You typed in an exact instant. You weren't trapped in a stupid listbox. And when the moment came, you got a popup, a flashing icon and an optional beep. Mistress would say, 'Call me at eight thirty-two.' At eight thirty-one the popup would pop. A minute later Mistress would say 'Call me at ten after nine .' At nine oh nine... . This would sometimes go on for half the morning. I was an very good alarm clock in her opinion. My office mate did not give his opinion. Mistress taught me to simply adore - simply adore - the taste and the smell (and the tasty overtones) of her boots and socks and feet. By the way, this acquired fetish solved a problem. I wanted her sexually. (Not like Tarzan; more like Jane - or perhaps Boy.) In any case, I wanted her sexually. However, I would not kneel before a woman who sold her sex. I was the Groucho Marx of perverts. But selling feet is honorable. At least it is to me. And between a woman's toes is intimate terrain. At least is to me. Makes foot worship a useful religion. Our best day was vacuum cleaner day. (Though I slipped. I called her Mistress in front of a clerk. And didn't sit down sans a reminder for more than the proverbial month.) We also went to a double-feature. There were one scene with all the actors all in drag. Mistress laughed so hard I considered calling am ambulance. At lunch she blessed my food. She blessed my food by spitting on it. My first erection from eating green beans. So why on earth did it end? We didn't we get married - or me get collared or whatever the correct term is - and have kids and a mortgage and a dungeon? I really don't know. I really do not know. At the time it was almost like an accident, an SM game gone awry or something. Oops... and the best relationship of my life was gone. But that's too superficial. I could probably have patched matters up. I could certainly have tried. I did not try. Neither did she. So why? Maybe its because I'm a lousy slave. I'm old and I'm fat and at the end of the day I'm just another possessive male. I want my Mistress to be my Mistress. And she was thoroughly caught in the prodomme trap. Brandish the whip or lose the apartment. It wasn't really about her fun. It was about money. I was about money. Maybe that's it. I'm not sure. I 'd like to telephone her. (Or leave her a page.) I'd like to take her to dinner. Maybe I could find out what she thinks happened. I've searched the internet. All I could find was a picture of her in a rubber dress. I remember cleaning that dress as she held it. She told me how painfully much the dress cost. She told me that if it ripped, the rip would grow and grow and grow. She talked about how her heart was in her mouth when she wore the rubber dress during a session. * * * * * (c) Copyright 2002. All rights reserved. Rubber Ducky Bill walked gruffly into the bedroom, still dressed in his suit and tie from work. He held a chain in his fist which led somewhere beyond the threshold. It suddenly snagged and he heard a strained rustling from out of sight. Giving a stern yank, he overcame its resistance and Alice came stumbling into the room, the leash attaching to a leather collar buckled around her neck. She might have removed it, but similarly daunting leather cuffs kept her hands bound securely behind her back. "Please, I'll be good, I promise!" she wailed at her husband, who gave no reply. She gave another defiant tug at her leash before Bill placed a firm hand between her shoulder blades and marched her fully into the sunbathed room. It was late afternoon. "Bill..." Alice begged as she was led to the bed and given a rough push so that she toppled forward onto the soft mattress. Unable to use her hands, her face became buried in the coverings. She felt her cotton panties, the last vestige of clothing she wore besides her bindings, being slipped down her hips with uncharacteristic tenderness. By the time she could lift her head, Bill crossed the room and hastily rummaged through a dresser drawer. Alice knew that drawer. "No, Bill, please..." she began, but Bill moved sternly toward her again. Alice, startled, shifted her weight and tried to raise herself off the bed, but with her bonds she was far too slow for her captor. Bill pressed her forcefully back into the mattress, then grasped a handful of her hair. Alice grunted in surprise as her head was lifted back. She attempted to cry out she felt a wad of cloth being stuffed into her mouth. Tasting her own panties, Alice gave a second grunt and felt herself being lifted off the mattress and back onto her feet. Bill was all over her, reaching around her waist and holding her back close against his body. She could feel the arousal between his legs. "There, much better," Bill spoke ominously into her ear. One hand circled her waist and held her close while the other explored her naked body. A finger brushed strawberry hair off her cheek before gliding its way down toward her exposed, heaving breasts. Alice had no way to cover herself. She felt her breath quicken. She wanted to fight him off but paused inexplicably. A prolonged moan escaped her flush lips, rife with mixed feelings. "No," Bill finally whispered. "You're not getting off light this time, babydoll." As he spoke, Alice noticed them. Rope, restraints, and much more strewn across the bed. Apprehension quickly flooded her hazel eyes and Alice moaned heavily in protest, but she knew Bill would keep his word. Pressed forward again slightly, Alice tried to turn and look, but cascading hair blocked her. Then she felt something snaking its way around her arm, just above the elbow. It was another cuff, wider than those around her slender wrists. The sound of it buckling, and then its partner on her other arm, reinforced Alice's sense of foreboding in his hands. She wanted to try and spit out the panties in her mouth but feared what he might do. Instead she watched him as he reached past her for a length of rope. Her arm twitched as she felt him feed the rope through a D ring on her elbow cuff, and suddenly it was all too much. Half-frightened, half-determined, Alice suddenly wrenched and turned fiercely, trying to shake her bonds and captor. She moaned in defeat as he caught her by the shoulders and shifted her back to where she was. He was so strong. She could feel the muscles in his arm flexing as he manhandled her body. Suddenly the rope, now fed through the rings on both her elbows, yanked taut and began drawing her elbows irresistibly together behind her. Alice groaned and struggled in heated displeasure but then a hand pressed against her back roughly and she lowered reluctantly onto the bed once more. Alice rolled as best she could but Bill quickly gained leverage over her, placing a knee on the mattress. He heard her whimper softly into the bedspread as he pulled her elbows nearly together behind her back, separated simply by the sturdy knot he tied into the rope between them. Her breasts, thrust out by the position of her elbows, compressed against the bed. The slack coiled aimlessly next to her elbows. "You're not making this easy, Alice," Bill spoke callously, though he found his prisoner quite subdued. He removed the leash attached to her collar. "I'll have to do something special with you..." At this Alice cried out and attempted to rise. She suddenly felt a sharp sting across her ass as Bill gave her a measured slap. Screaming in surprise, Alice lurched forward and didn't try again. "No getting free this time, I promise," Bill assured his writhing plaything. Alice was crafty and flexible. Bill was determined to make sure her escape artist days were behind her. Alice trembled as Bill turned his attention to her legs. Ropes wrapped around her ankles, and then just above her knees. Bill cinched the ropes neatly between her ankles and knees, making them hug all around her skin without any gaps. This was hardly their first time; for all her skill at escape, Bill was just as skilled at tying her. When he finished Alice was bound hand and foot, bent over the edge of the bed and already feeling the ache within her limbs. She risked movement and rolled slightly onto her side, watching as Bill snatched up yet more toys to use against her. Her eyes widened when she recognized a much dreaded mess of black leather straps fall into a lump on the bed beside her. She hated her chastity belt. The thickset strap it forced between her legs prevented any access to her soft loins, even by her. But nothing thus far incensed Alice as when she saw Bill pick up and inspect her hefty black dildo. Several inches long, it curved gently along the full length of the silicone shaft and bulged noticeably at the head, not that the remainder of the shaft lacked for girth. Its surface was marked by strategically placed bumps and ridges designed to stimulate literally everything from her clitoris to the deepest reaches of her vagina. Alice used it previously only once and while it was certainly enjoyable, such a toy felt as much like a feat as a source of pleasure. In Bill's hands, it loomed threateningly over her. Seeing the belt and dildo together clicked in Alice's head, filling her suddenly with fear. She had to do something. Struggling passionately, she quickly rolled onto her side and spit out her makeshift gag, the only implement that she felt any control over. By now Bill had turned his attention to something else hidden from view. "Bill, let me go!" she called out, attempting to gain his sympathy. Bill looked back at her, surprised by her reclaimed voice, but instead of responding he picked up a new article from the dresser drawer. "You don't have to do this!" she pleaded as he slipped a blindfold over her eyes, plunging her into darkness. "Please," she said again, more breathy this time, trying to accentuate her chest seductively for him. Anything to get her out of his wicked trap. She felt his weight lift off the mattress and grew more desperate. "Bill!" she cried out. "Just let me go. Please, not the big—ahmmm MMMHM!" Alice's last appeal cost her any chance to resist as he guided an ample ball gag between her lips. Crazed at the loss of her last real hope at helping herself, Alice tossed and moaned in resistance to her gagging, but once the ball had passed between her teeth her efforts became largely symbolic. Her eyes tried unsuccessfully to penetrate the darkness as straps tightened mercilessly behind and over her head as well as under her chin, securing her silence with leathered effectiveness. "You brought this on yourself, babe," Bill taunted over her muted tempest. He gave her a moment to work out her frustrations, letting her tug against her bonds and test out the blindfold. They were all chillingly secure. Soon enough Alice collapsed panting on the bed, whimpering at her inability to affect her fate. Bill's reaction only rubbed things in. Oh, he didn't taunt or mock her, or retaliate against her defiance of her bonds. Much worse, he ignored her efforts completely and the message was clear. He was totally in control. In her condition, she held absolutely no sway over him. "Get up on your knees," he commanded. At first she resisted, then moaned to indicate her bound helplessness. He simply repeated the command sternly. Soon, a resigned Alice struggled on the bed and managed to roll herself onto her knees. Awkwardly and in the dark, she lifted herself at the waist. Without a word, she felt something leather wrap around her waist and then tighten strictly above her hips. It had to be the chastity belt. The thick strap dangled over her bellybutton. Alice groaned. "Lean forward," was the next order, but Alice struggled to obey. Finding it difficult to keep her balance while her arms were bound, she needed Bill's hand to guide her gracefully forward at the waist. Still on her knees, Alice felt embarrassingly aware that her ass now rose to prominent display behind her. Alice wasn't exactly aware of Bill's movements behind her, but she guessed unhappily at what was coming. Scared to move, Alice felt almost appropriate in this position. It mirrored the vulnerability she felt to her core. With sustained warmth, Alice reminded herself over and over that Bill could do whatever he liked with her. Then she felt it, the vast toy phallus, brushing against her moist pussy almost playfully. For a split second, Alice's heart leapt at the first sensation of the slick dildo, already slathered in lubricant. Bill first caressed her sensitive lips with it before placing it in the center of her crescent and applying gentle pressure. Alice parted before him, her hips gyrating slightly. The first, guttural moan soon morphed into a plea in the negative as each inch easily glided into her. The heavily ridged surface of the toy wreaked sexual havoc on her loins as it journeyed into her recesses, filling her spectacularly and rousing her most sensitive features. She wanted him desperately to stop, yet the sensations awoke something carnal deep inside her that proved impossible to ignore. Moaning and shaking, Alice cursed and blessed Bill as he worked every last inch into her. The base looked quite innocent with her outer lips wrapped around it like a loving blanket, disguising the intense and overflowing sensation it gave its reluctant host. He held it in place with two fingers. Alice might have savored the feeling of the dildo if Bill hadn't prepared an unforeseen surprise. Given less than a moment to adjust to her invader, Alice soon jerked and moaned in vehement opposition as a second toy suddenly appeared just above her vagina, positioning itself maliciously at her ass. Alice avoided anal play at all costs and immediately began struggling in resistance, but there was little she could do. Her groans filled the room as the second toy pressed laboriously into her, pressing its way past her clenched muscles much faster than she was prepared for. The feeling intensified with each methodic thrust—the plug must be getting wider. Alice moaned noisily as her ass filled with several inches until, in pyrrhic relief, the toy narrowed considerably near the base. Alice's prostrate ass seemed to clamp down around its new tormenter ironically, as if wanting to be filled uncomfortably. The base of the toy, too wide for insertion, protruded knowingly from her backside. Wasting no time, Bill reached around Alice's waist and grasped the thick strap of the chastity belt, working it between her bound thighs. All too aware of his intentions, Alice moaned passionately in the negative and collapsed herself defiantly onto her side, trying to resist Bill's relentless assault on her helpless body. Given enough time, she might have worked the toys out. Bill, however, quickly braced her bound body and worked the strap uncomfortably tight between Alice's legs, sealing the ferocious toys inside her orifices. Alice expected her impaled abdomen to burst any moment. Separated by a thin layer within her, any movement on Alice's part seemed to grind the toys against each other as well as against her sensitive tissues. Immediately turned on despite herself, Alice prayed for any relief she could get. The toys provided none and chose to stimulate her mercilessly instead. Between the gag and those damned toys, Alice felt like a stuffed and mounted trophy. With her tormentors locked in place, Bill took a brief moment to enjoy his prize, running stiff fingers roughly across Alice's body while she squirmed. Teasing her breasts and nipples while she moaned, Bill wondered whether Alice was enjoying herself. His hands soon slid down her torso and towards the sensual V-shape that had formed between her legs. He stared at the stiff belt pressing into her delicate skin, hiding her luscious bounty from his touch, or his taste. An unfortunate situation, but at least she was well entertained like this. Bill pressed his fingers slightly into her waist. He thought he could feel the stiff phallus kindling her, or perhaps he imagined it. She certainly felt it, shifting in reaction to his every touch. In any case, Bill was far from finished. Picking up another rope, he strode around the bed behind her back and grabbed her bound wrists roughly. Alice started as he wrapped a rope between her cuffs and fed it down between her ankles. Alice groaned as he pulled slack out of the rope, forcing her to straighten her body stringently and shifting the dildos between her legs vigorously. Once she lay on her side in a strict hogtie, Bill walked around the bed. "It'd be such a shame to give your sweet pussy so much attention while ignoring those sexy tits of yours," he taunted her. Alice immediately shook her head negative and struggled, frantically hoping for some advantage that might stop Bill's advances. Nevertheless, Alice could only moan in surprise yet again when she felt a thin cord begin coiling around the base of each ample globe, drawing tight and squeezing her breasts into taut spheres on display for her menacing captor. Tied individually first, Bill then tied the remaining cord around them both in a figure eight pattern until her breasts were held closely together, their weight resting fully and inhospitably on the bindings. Alice endured their newfound sensitivity as he fondled each one brusquely for his own amusement. Then he was gone. Alice could only presume that he was preparing some new torment, and was quickly proven right. A new rope found itself attached to the top of her gag harness and then to the buckle on the rear of her chastity belt. Pulling it taut drew her head stringently back until Alice couldn't move it at all, while any attempt would shift around the belt and press the dildos yet further inside her. She quickly learned that even miniscule movements of her head translated brilliantly between her legs. Another rope soon attached to the bindings at her ankles before being tied to the bottom bedpost. The same treatment was given to the ropes at her knees, which were tied to the other bottom post. Lastly, he grabbed the slack between her elbows and tied it to a post at the head of the bed. As Bill pulled this rope taut, Alice's elbows were unwillingly pulled away from her body by the tension. Bill prowled around the bed, pulling all three of the ropes tight until poor Alice was being pulled in all directions, held in her unforgiving hogtie on the bed. Alice whimpered helplessly as he worked but Bill was unmoved. Alice sensed Bill move before her and tried to struggle meaningfully for him, hoping to inspire pity. Bill had other plans. "Here comes my favorite part," Bill whispered. Alice couldn't even lower her head enough to face his direction. Her blindfolded eyes would have been stuck staring at the headboard. Even so, she yelped in shock when she felt his lips press sensually over a breast, playing with her with well-practiced skill. Bound or no, Bill knew just how to pleasure Alice's breasts to drive her wild with desire. He quickly drew parched, desirous moans from beneath Alice's gag. Then suddenly, she felt him bear down on her nipples, already incensed by the bindings on her chest. Alice moaned and bucked at the force of his advance as Bill forced her lower nipple to stand at attention. Then, as quickly as he came, Bill was gone, until Alice felt the acute pinch of a clover clamp being placed on the hardened nipple. Shocked at the juxtaposition, Alice screamed into her gag and tried anew to escape her situation, but she could barely writhe, let along dislodge its biting jaws. No clamps, she wanted to articulate. It's too much, I can't handle them! Yet, Bill's lips soon returned to her yet unmolested nipple while Alice willed him with every fiber of her being to stop. Yet Alice's body betrayed her and the nipple grew hard. The clamp at the other end of the chain soon joined its companion. Screaming a second time at the sting of the device, Alice attempted to plead with Bill through the ball in her mouth. The unintelligible moans seemed to encourage him instead, leaving Alice trapped and alone. Alice's squeezed and pinched breasts were so sensitive that she shuddered when Bill grasped the chain between the clamps. He tied a rope to the chain and then secured it around the final bedpost. Just as the clamps were beginning to settle into a dull ache, Alice was made to cry out again as the chain pulled taut, causing the clamps to bite even harder onto the trapped tips of Alice's tits. Bill tied off the rope, his prison constructed. Alice was severely bound, blindfolded, and gagged. Her pussy and ass filled to the brim, and her breasts were rigidly clamped and lifted away from her body. Held tightly to the bed, any movement on Alice's part would either cause the toys between her legs to shift, work the clamps painfully against her tits, or most likely both at the same time. Unable to sense where Bill was, Alice quickly learned the extent of her predicament. Every struggle quickly transformed into sensations which tested her very limits, and within minutes Alice was moaning pitifully into her gag, trying her best to keep still until either the discomfort of her position or the pressing arousal being forced upon her compelled her to move and invite yet more torment. Each moan was a call for release, a desperate hope that something, even if it was Bill, might return to her and offer a potential end to her trials. Increasingly, he noticed her grinding her thighs together as much as her bounds would allow. She clearly wanted more stimulation out of the dildos burying themselves within her. Though satisfied, Bill still had one last task ahead of him. Strolling over to the dresser drawer, he pulled out a toy rubber ducky, which looked strangely out of place amidst the trove of restraints and sex toys. Returning to the bed, he reached out and placed the ducky into Alice's hand tenderly. Its shape and texture felt unique, instantly recognizable despite Alice's incapacity. She knew what it was, and she knew what it meant. She gripped the rubber ducky silently in her left hand, rubbing the contours of the toy against the ring on her finger. Bill moved to the other side of the bed, at his wife's front. "You know the drill, honey," he spoke tenderly, breaking character at last. "Just give the signal if you want out." The drill was: one squeeze and done. One little squeeze of the ducky and Bill would release her from everything. No hesitation. Alice kept still as best she could, holding the ducky in her hand. Her fingers tensed around it. But then she flicked her wrist deliberately, sending the toy through the air and onto the floor with a faint squeak. Bill smiled, yet drew closer to the bound Alice. Rubber Ducky "Are you sure?" Alice grunted and tried to nod her head, apparently finding pleasure in the way it shifted around the toys between her legs. Bill rested a hand on his captive's ass, pressing lightly into the cleaving strap and pressing the dildo in over and over. Alice's hips began to gyrate almost instantly, and she moaned in abject pleasure, sinking wholly back into her fantasy. Soon Bill noticed that she had begun making short, repeated grunting noises through her gag, clearly trying to speak. Two sharp exhales followed by incoherent groans, over and over. Bill grinned proudly. He knew these sounds. It was a plea he understood quite well: Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me. "Happy Birthday, Alice," Bill said lovingly after a while, getting to his feet. "You clearly want to play with your toys, so take some time for yourself. I'll come check on you...eventually." Alice moaned frantically as his hand left her loins rousingly unfulfilled. The last thing she wanted was to be left alone like this. She thrashed about for a brief moment but yelped when the clamps punished her impatience. Desperate to lure him back without additional wrath, Alice instead begged him incoherently to fuck her once more. Her cries lured him back, but instead of freeing her Bill pulled her clamps agonizingly tight and anchored them again. Alice moaned long after she heard the door close. More than anything else, she yearned to satisfy the persistent arousal between her legs, pulling at the belt and grinding her thighs together softly. Over and over, she'd cry out in frustration when orgasm remained maddeningly out of reach. Bill, for his part, took this opportunity to finally relax after a long day. He'd come home from work, flowers and birthday present in hand, to find his wife by the door with her hands bound, wearing a leash and collar. She'd looked into his eyes and said only eleven lustful words: "Tie me up. Tease me. All night. Never be gentle." Rubber Game "That is the biggest crock of shit I have ever heard." Tom's roommate slammed down his beer can in disgust, punctuating his disapproval with a deep belch. "You're gonna to skip out the game for a what?" "An Earth Day festival. Look Sam, I promised Sally. She'll be really pissed if I don't show up." "Pissed? You're going to have thirty frat brothers really pissed at you if we lose this game. We need your bat, bro. Where are your priorities?" "It's a big deal. Her dance class is doing some sort of special presentation. She's going to be Gaia." "She's going to be gay? I'm telling you bro, those Wellesley bitches are all dykes. You're just wasting your time." "Not gay, Gaia. Mother Earth." "Great. What does that make you, a mother fucker?" "Maybe." Tom tried to keep a poker face. Sally had done everything so far except actually fuck. The couple of times she'd let him try to take her virginity, she'd gone into a spasm of terror, and he'd wilted. But Sam didn't need to know that. "Pussy whipped," Sam muttered. Sid walked in at that moment, and helped himself to their last beer. "Say Sid, did you know Tom is going to miss the game so he can go out to a fucking Earth Day party?" "Exactly," Tom had to defend his honor. "A FUCKING Earth Day party." "What, you're going to cut out on us just so you can get laid? What kind of friend is that." Sid took a sip of the beer and made a face. "Where do you get this stuff?" Keystone was not to his taste. "Brought it from home." "He's not going to get laid." "Bullshit." Tom was getting angry now. "Fifty bucks says you don't get laid." "Sam, when have you ever had fifty bucks on you?" Sam went to his dresser. He had a little grey metal box with a combination lock on it. He opened it, and a faint hint of pot wafted into the room. He pulled out five bills, all of them tens. "Right here. Tomorrow I'll have a hundred." "Bullshit. What I dumb bet. I come back, I tell you I got laid, you pay up." "He could call your girlfriend for verification," Sid suggested. "No fucking way. If that's part of it, no way I'm taking that bet." "Weasel. Fucking chicken shit. Okay." Sam went back into his dresser. He produced a box of Trojans. It had been sitting there patiently waiting for some use the whole semester. He took one out. It was in a little foil package, but he tore a corner out, then used a pen to put a little squiggle on the rubber inside. "You bring this back used, and I'll pay off. If it has your jizz on the inside and her jit on the outside." "No fucking way." But it was too late. Sid had bolted out the door to spread the word of the challenge. It wasn't just fifty bucks. His manhood was on the line. Sighing, he picked up the package. It was leaking a little. He put some scotch tape over the tear, wrapped it in a hanky, and stuck it into his jeans. "Look, what if she doesn't want to use a rubber? What if she throws it out, flushes it down the toilet?" "No ticky, no billies." "Asshole." Tom gave one last sigh of exasperation and went off to catch the shuttle bus. The good thing about Wellesley was that they had free transportation because they cross listed courses with MIT. The bad thing was that it was almost an hour to get out there. The bus was almost empty. Three guys he didn't know, one or two girls he might have liked to know, but they were making a point of not paying attention to him. The stupidity of his situation was more apparent to him with each mile into the countryside. By the end of the evening he was going to be fifty bucks poorer and a laughingstock to boot. The sunlight was flickering through the still bare branches of the trees along the road, like a strobe light, giving him a headache. But when he stepped off the bus, it was walking into paradise. On the great lawn, the grass was soft and green, the trees were in flower, and the natives were sunning themselves in various states of undress. A sweater had been abandoned here, over there a skirt was hiked up just far enough to suggest that there was nothing underneath it. Some of the girls were even in bikinis, lying on their stomachs with the straps undone, propped up on their elbows that way, nipples just brushing the ground. Not too far away was a couple, the girl dozing on her stomach. The boy had teased her bikini bottom all the way off her cheeks. She woke up, startled at her exposure, and sat up, breasts flying free, until she was soothed back into slumber. Tom sighed, and tore himself away to walk over to Sally's dorm. Up on the roof, he could just see a few heads -- the bodies beneath them, rumor had it, were naked in the sun. But he had never been to the roof. Well, he would be seeing Sally naked, soon, maybe not too soon if he had to go through with the Earth Day bullshit. There was a camera crew coming, from WBZ. They were going to be on TV. It was a big deal. Not worth fifty bucks though. "You're late!" She was pretty pissed when she came down to get him. "I got here when the bus got me here." That wasn't precisely true. He had dawdled for a few minutes at the great lawn. Only a few though. Not enough that she would notice. "Bullshit. I saw the bus come. I saw you get off it." "You saw me?" "Yes, I saw you. I was up on the roof." Up on the roof. She did look a little flushed, and he wondered how much of her was how sunburned. He hadn't really paid much attention to what she was wearing, he'd been so busy defending himself, but he realized now it wasn't a bathrobe, it was some sort of Greek goddess outfit. Gaia, she was dressed up as Gaia. She leaned over a little, and he caught a clear glimpse of a nipple. "Come on," she said, leading him to the elevator, "hurry up. We've only got twenty minutes before the performance starts." "Sure." Why weren't they heading there directly? The look she gave him didn't leave room for questions. Down the hall, to her room -- what? She wanted a quickie? "Come on, hurry up, get out of those clothes." "Sally, we don't have time." He could hardly believe he was saying that. But a certain part of him was not cooperating at all. "Look, dickhead, you're no good dressed like that." "Dressed like what?" Blue jeans, Red Sox tee shirt with eighty one on his back, that was his class, not quite as good as class of sixty nine, but something, his Phillies cap ... maybe it was those enemy colors ... "I'll take off the hat before the TV guys come." "Jesus, fucking, Christ!" He hadn't realized she could swear like that. She looked like an angry Olympian about to strike him down with a lightning bolt, or turn him into a tree. "Get your fucking clothes off!" She was handing him a dress. "What?" "Dear heart, you are going to be the great god Pan. God knows you've got the legs for it." It was a little tennis skirt, with straps, but an otherwise open top. It wasn't hers, too big for that, but really small for him even so. It wasn't long enough to cover his boxers. "Jesus!" She was fuming. "The great god Pan does not wear red checkered boxers." "I need a larger dress. Maybe lengthen the straps." "No time! If you'd shown up on time ..." "I'll roll them up." "No good. Take them off." "What?" "Take them off! Tom! Please!" There was a note of desperation now. "I'll make it worth your while." "Worth my while? How worth my while?" "Tom! We don't have time for this bullshit!" "Bullshit?" There was a dressing mirror on the back of her door. The two of them would stand in front of it sometimes, naked, he behind her, hands cupping her breasts, dick sliding down between her cheeks. They would stand that way and admire each others beauty and their own. "This is bullshit!" Actually he looked pretty good in the skirt, like something out of Ben Hur. Only his legs were hairy. His torso was smooth, delicately muscled, little ridges tracing his pecs and abs. A dumb jock, she called him, but how dumb could an MIT student be? Not that he knew squat about all that pretension cultural bullshit she was into. But she liked that jock body. She gave a little giggle. He realized he had been preening for the mirror. "I'm not going out in public like this!" "Tom, everyone is going to be in costume. You'll be fine!" "No fucking way!" "What if there was," she pushed a hand under the elastic waist band of the boxers, "a fucking way?" The hand reached down to grab his balls. Then, a little yank, and the boxers were down around his ankles. "More bullshit." "Tom." She stepped on the boxers. She pulled him forward by the shoulders so that he stepped out of them. "You will be fucking this evening. I promise!" With that, he snatched the handkerchief from his jeans and stuck it into the pocket of the tennis skirt. The rubber was in there, well hidden, he hoped. Well, what did he care if she saw it? She'd promised. A promise was a promise. By the time the night was over he would be carrying that rubber back to Cambridge in triumph. Or, even better, tomorrow morning. "Tom." "What." "Cool it. For now." "What? Oh." The front of the tennis skirt was rising up. "Sorry." "Now, about the dance." "The dance? There's a dance tonight?" "No, the dance for the ceremony. What you have to do is really simple. At the end, all you do is lift your arms up over your head, and turn around on your toes. Like this," she demonstrated. "The girls will be forming a circle. You just walk out, nicely, on your toes, yes, that's good, now lift up your arms -- no, maybe don't lift them up quite so high." The straps were pulling the skirt up above his balls. "Now twirl around like this." She turned quickly, and her own skirt swirled away to reveal sunburned cheeks. "No way. No spins, no jumps. I'm not a fucking ice queen." God, he felt naked. The funny thing was, he didn't mind being naked. He would have taken off all his clothes and lounged in the sun with all those girls, if he'd thought he could get away with it. But walking around in the skirt, nothing underneath it -- he could feel the breeze on his balls. It made him want to pee. He went over to her sink and strained, but nothing would come out. That didn't stop the dull ache. Maybe he needed to come, but it was too late for that. Sally was dragging him out the door. They went to the elevator. There was no one in the hall. They went downstairs. There was no one in the lobby. They went outside, and she tore a couple of strands of ivy off the brick walls of the dorm, and arranged them on his head. There were other girls down there, dressed like her, and one guy, a big black guy, wearing nothing but a loin cloth. It wasn't even a proper loin cloth, it was just two pieces of cloth hanging down front and back, held together with a rope. Tom realized he was spending way too much time staring at the guy's balls. He saw naked guys all the time, it was no big deal. But somehow his skirt was starting to lift up again. The guy was smirking at him. He didn't like the look of that leer. Flushing, he paid more attention to looking down Sally's dress. Really, he could see all the way down, not just her nipples, but her bare belly, a patch of pubic hair below that. The front of his skirt was definitely sticking out now. "Stop it!" she hissed. "The TV crew is here!" That was enough to shrivel him, at least for the moment. The ceremony itself was total bullshit. There was an older man, a professor, dressed up in a toga, who gave a rambling speech about spring and flowers and mother earth, and then Sally and the black guy did some sort of pas de deux. He'd never actually seen her dance, well every once in a while she'd do a naked little ballet for his benefit, mincing around on her toes and maybe doing a revealing pliée. So that would make the black guy a male ballerina. Gay, the guy had to be gay. Tom guessed that made it okay for those black hands to be disappearing under Sally's dress as she was lifted overhead. But it made those leers even more unsettling. The camera man had been catching it all, but Tom wasn't sure how much was going to make the news. There had been a certain National Geographic quality to the performance. Everyone clapped, though. Then Tom's big moment arrived. The other girls skipped out and formed a little circle. "Behold, the great god Pan!" the prof roared, and Sally gave him a little slap on the rump. He tried to skip out on his toes, like the girls, but halfway out he tripped over his own feet. "The great god Pan is dead!" the prof roared. The other dancers rushed in to pick him up and carry him off to the side. Then they all stood in a line and sang "For the Beauty of the Earth" while the camera man walked in front of them. He was a midget, no more that four and a half feet tall, with the camera on his shoulder, and Tom was sure he was aiming it under everyone's skirt. It had lasted for fifteen minutes, maybe twenty. The TV crew packed up and left as abruptly as they had arrived. Tom was hoping none of it was making the evening news. "All right!" There was a cheer. "Time to party!" Tom would have liked to retrieve his clothes and his wallet, but it was too late. Sally had one of his hands, the black guy the other, and they were skipping over the great lawn towards the student center. Well, Sally and the black guy were skipping. Tom was stumbling along trying to keep up. The skirt was too tight, on top of everything else. It kept bunching up around his waist, but no one seemed to care. Wellesley was a dry town, except for the Holiday Inn and the student center. Drinking age was eighteen, so there was no reason not to serve beer, a lot of beer. There was no need for his wallet, after all. The prof was buying, many pitchers that they carried up to the loft. There was a TV up there. They were going to hang around until the evening news came on. It was cozy, almost private, big purple couches on a bright orange rug. There were even bathrooms, no need to stagger down to the first floor. Just as well, because the pitchers of beer kept coming. Tom lost track. After a while he didn't care how much beer he was drinking. Pizza appeared on the low blond tables, and he ate some, absent mindedly. Sally and the black guy were matching him beer for beer, pizza for pizza, and the two of them were chatting away, on either side of him, giggling like schoolgirls, while Tom just mellowed out. The black guy's name was Dwayne, or something like that. Not that Tom cared. There was some really stupid game show on the TV, and he actually started to pay attention to it. Finally, six o'clock arrived. Their big moment. The news of the day. A fire in Somerset. Boring! There was always a fire in Somerset. A crash on the Mass Pike. This was news? Ads. Time was passing. It was quarter after already, almost time for the weather, then the sports. There was tension in the loft, as much as they could muster up in their state of inebriation. Then, there it was! "There were Earth Day festivities today throughout the Boston area ..." and they showed some jugglers on the Common! Bullshit! Maypole dancers in front of Faneuil Hall! How many TV crews did the fucking station have? Boos were erupting throughout the student center. Then, at last, the great lawn in all its glory! "Wellesley College celebrated Earth Day ..." and there they were, two seconds of Sally up over Dwayne's head, a second or so of the girls skipping into the circle. Nothing of Tom. "When we return, Jay will tell us how much longer this amazing weather is going to last." And that was it. Their fifteen seconds of fame. Everyone was cheering. There were cheers from downstairs, too, and one of the waitresses came up with more beer, on the house. The celebration had just begun. After a while the beer stopped coming. The professor had other things to do. He was over in one of the huge arm chairs with plush purple wings, sprawled back with a shit faced grin on his face. One of the girls was kneeling in front of him, her head hidden under his toga. On the couch across from Tom, two of the girls were making out. Outside, it was getting dark, and no one had bothered to turn on the lights in the loft. Happy hour was long gone, the place had cleared out. There were only the five or six of them left upstairs. The girls were doing more than just kiss now. A breast had bobbed out, a nipple was being sucked. There was no more conversation. Sally was staring at them, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees. Tom reached in to find a nipple, but she pushed his hand away. There was a hand on his thigh, but it wasn't hers. Creepy, creepy, and he reached down to touch that hand, but he didn't move it away. Dwayne leaned over him and kissed Sally, right in front of him. No, that wasn't right. Dwayne whispered something in her ear, and she giggled, and lay back on the couch, skirt pulled up, knees pulled up, legs spread wide. Damn! She was going to let Dwayne fuck her, right in front of him! The bitch had been holding out on him, all this shit about how she was a fucking virgin was just fucking bullshit. She'd been fucking Dwayne all along, and holding out on him, stringing him along, trying to make him think things were "serious" when all along she was just another fucking slut. "Rubber," Dwayne said. He slapped his thighs where pockets should be. "I need a rubber." "Tom has one. Don't you, Tom? He's such a Boy Scout." "Boy Scout." "Be prepared." Her fingers were in his pocket, the rubber was out of his pocket, the rubber was wrapped around Dwayne's dick, before he could protest. Well, he thought wildly, if he could recover it, maybe it would be okay. How the fuck would Sam know whose cum was in it? So he was going to watch his girl friend, make that his ex girl friend, get fucked two feet away from him. So fucking what? He might as well relax and enjoy the show. Everything was pretty much a haze, in any case. All that beer had made him numb. He admired the fact that Dwayne could still get it up. That hand on his thigh had found his prick a while ago, it was playing with it, but nothing much was happening. Maybe it was just too creepy having a guy jack you off. Actually, it felt good, but it was a long way from feeling good enough to do anything. So, go with the flow. He was even thinking of switching couches. The girls were head to toe now, faces buried in the others groin. He reached out to touch the nearest one, running his hands over her ass. But then the unexpected happened. Sally reached up and pulled his head into her lap. Well, why not? His tongue was still working. He liked the taste of her, he liked the way she wrapped her thighs around his head. He liked the way her belly tensed, the quiver when he stuck a finger in her asshole. He liked to make her come, not much of a trick this time, it took about ten seconds, but then she kept coming, she kept holding his head down. She had her legs wrapped around his shoulders, pinning him to her. Someone was kissing his back. Someone with slightly bristly lips. He squirmed, but Sally pulled him even harder into her. She gave a few moans, she started to heave, and he doubled his efforts. The kisses got lower, down his spine. A tongue caressed his balls, then his asshole. Teeth were sliding gently along his prick, all the way up to his balls, and a finger was sliding into him. Oh God! He'd always wanted Sally to do that for him, but she wouldn't. She had stopped writhing now. He was lying with his head still buried in her thighs, but not licking. Something bigger than a finger was pressing against his asshole. Just the touch of it shot shivers through him. He was terrified. He was horrified. He was enjoying it. A little touch, a hint of pressure, the excitement of his own flesh stretching, and then there it was, inside of him. It felt better than the finger had, and a lot better -- not hard and bony, not sharp and scratchy, but big, soft and firm at the same time. Rubber Game "I promised you you'd be fucking," Sally giggled. The girls on the couch broke off and sat up. The professor and his girl came over and sat next to them. Everyone wanted to see Tom get fucked. Dwayne made a show of it. He worked his way in slowly, bit by bit, and it felt better. He worked his way in to the point where he was far as he could go, the tip of his prick was bumping up against the end of Tom's rectum. He stayed that way for a while, bump, bump, bump, almost like he was scratching an itch Tom had never known he had. Tom felt the base of his balls glowing, behind that, a tingling. He was starting to come from behind. At each bump, there was a little spurt of fluid out of his prick. It still wasn't erect, but it felt like it was coming, over and over. Then Dwayne pushed a little harder, and slid on through into Tom's bowels. That second penetration was even more exciting than the first. Tom shifted, he opened himself as much as possible, he strained to make it even deeper. It kept getting better and better, until finally he felt bone against his bones, hard belly against his back. There was a little gasp from the onlookers. No flesh against him, cold air sucked in unto his sweaty back, the prick sliding back out of him, then all the way back in, with a little slap of flesh on flesh as their bodies collided. Again, and again, and Tom wanted more. "Harder," he gasped, "faster." And Dwayne did that, he pounded for a couple of minutes, until he gave one last plunge, one last sigh, and just lay down on top of Tom. He was too heavy, but the weight felt good. "Excellent!" Dwayne sat up to find the last of the beer. Sally was still lying on her back. Her thighs and his face were smeared with his saliva and her desire. He crawled up on top of her and kissed her, smothering her in the taste of her cunt. Her tongue darted eagerly into his mouth, his own tongue was tingling as she ravaged it. Somehow, after all the beer, all the fucking, he was getting hard. She was so drunk, so slippery, so wide open from his tongue, that he slipped right into her. It took him a moment to realize what had happened. Shit! He was fucking her after all! By the time he remembered about the rubber, it was too late. What did it feel like? It hardly felt like anything, she was so wet, he was so drunk. He was just floundering away inside of her. Then she kissed him again, and at the same time something happened at the other end. She was clamping around him. He had to fight to free himself. He had to push his way back into her. He knew what it felt like to have a prick inside, he knew what it felt like to have your flesh glowing at each thrust, and he thought about that, he thought about how each time he touched the top of her cunt it was setting off a little explosion. She was starting to gasp now, starting to shudder. He was riding a wave of sensation, he felt like he was coming, but it was going on forever, he was ejaculating even though there was nothing left of ejaculate. He didn't know how to stop, he didn't know how to keep on going, and she was moaning. He didn't know if he was hurting her or if she really liked it, and he didn't care, one way or the other. She dug her nails into his back, and he realized that he hadn't been coming at all, that this was the real thing, and he pushed even deeper into her, so deep he hit something rough and she yelped in pain. It was over. He was, so to speak, totally fucked. A waitress had come upstairs to clean up. She'd been watching for a little while, but then one of the guards had come up to see if she was okay. They had both been standing there, at the top of the steps, for a few minutes now. The guard cleared his throat. "Sorry folks. Party's over." Everything in the building was dark. They were closing for the night. The dancers rearranged their clothing. The waitress had a big tray, not big enough. It took her a couple of trips to retrieve all the pitchers, all the empty pizza boxes, dirty napkins, dirty ashtrays, used rubbers ... the rubber! What had happened to it! The tables were empty. The waitress had gone downstairs with the last of the debris. "Shit!" "What's the matter Tom?" "Lost something." Tom stared at Dwayne. The loincloth shifted a little. He wasn't wearing the rubber. Had he gone to pee? Had he flushed it down the toilet? No. One of the girls had been giving him a blowjob, while they were all watching Tom and Sally. He must have taken the rubber off before that. But it was gone now. "What's the matter?" Sally could see his agitation. "Lost something." "I lost something too." She gave him a little kiss, but he broke away. He wasn't feeling romantic at the moment. He wasn't feeling anything except, oh God, he needed to pee. It had just snuck up on him, but now he was rushing to the bathroom. No pants, no underwear, he was sure he was leaving little dribbles on the rug. The door was locked! They had cleaned the upstairs bathrooms and closed them for the night! Where were the ones downstairs? Around the corner, there it was, the door was propped open, there was a cone blocking the way, but he didn't care. A cleaning woman gave him dirty look. "Sorry." He started to gush into the urinal, and she began to laugh. It seemed like she was laughing for a long time. It took forever to empty his bladder. Outside on her cart was a bag of rubbish, probably from the upstairs bathroom. He gave it a quick glance, he even opened the top, but no sign of the rubber. "What are you doing?" The cleaning woman had finished. "I lost something." "Lost something? What did you lose?" He hadn't looked at the cleaning lady before, he'd just brushed past her. A little non person, probably Hispanic or Vietnamese, part of the underclass that dealt with the mess the students made. But now he realized she was young, very pretty, her English not broken at all. Was she a student, doing a scholarship job? It was, he realized, the same waitress who had been cleaning up upstairs. The one who had been watching him. She was staring at him now with a mixture of amusement and frank admiration. "A ring," he lied, "I lost a ring." "A ring? Oh dear! That's awful! I haven't emptied the vacuum yet. We can go through the bag. Where did you think you lost it? It's not, like, stuck somewhere?" Her concern was so sincere he couldn't keep up his lie. "It's not a ring. It's a rubber." "A rubber? You weren't wearing a rubber." She blurted it out, then covered her mouth in embarrassment. "Never mind." "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have ... my name's Theresa." She offered him a hand, then realized she was wearing rubber gloves. "Tom." He took the rubber glove. She really was very pretty. "You work here?" "Three nights a week. You know where to find me." She gave him a smile of such frank invitation that he felt his skirt lifting up again. But Sally was tugging on his shoulder. "Come on, it's only twenty minutes until the last bus. Unless you want to ride home in that dress." Staying the night did not seem to be an option. He gave a longing glance at the trays of debris still piled on a table in the main room. One of those glasses, one of the ash trays, might be the resting place of that precious rubber. But she pulled him out into the dark. She was really in a hurry. She started to run back towards the dorm. The stupid skirt was too tight, it was dark, no one was out walking at the hour. He just pulled the stupid thing up around his waist and ran along with her, bare assed, dick and balls bobbing in the cool night air. Was it the wind on his balls, the girl running beside him, her breasts flopping around, or the memory of the look Theresa had given him? Maybe the running was helping him shake all that beer. Whatever the cause, by the time they reached the dorm he was really, really horny. "What?" She only had time for that one word as he pushed her on to the bed. "We don't have time for this!" "Yes we do." No need to undress, no need to take off clothes. Just push her skirt up, and there she was. He started to give a couple of preliminary licks, just to loosen her up. Then he hovered above her, ready to impale. "Wait! Use a rubber!" "What? We didn't use one the last time." "No reason to be stupid twice." She was so matter of fact about it. It was taking all the fun out of it. Then he realized -- a rubber! He'd be saved! He could put a little pen mark on it. How would Sam know the difference? Where were his jeans, where was his wallet? Where was the emergency rubber that had been sitting there for a year and a half, the one he thought would never see the light of day? He was starting to get limp, the distractions were making him lose it. There it was! He had never actually put one on before. He was staring at it, stupefied. "Oh God!" Sally grabbed it, rolled it open onto his cock. "Hurry the fuck up!" She grabbed a cheek with each hand and pulled him down onto her. She shoved him into her, she wrapped her legs around his back. Her hands were around his balls now, her fingernails digging in just behind them. One, two of those digs, and he was coming. "Happy now?" She pushed him away, tossed him his boxers. "Hurry up, we only have seven minutes." What a disaster, literally a fucking disaster. At least he had the rubber. At least he wasn't out fifty bucks. He stripped it off, and started to look for his hanky in the tennis skirt. "Wait." "What?" "I want the rubber." She held out her hand. There was no denying her. "Why?" "A souvenir. Of our first time." He noticed the way she said our. What the fuck was that supposed to mean? "It wasn't our first." "Close enough." So he gave her the rubber. Fifty bucks shot, just like that, on a girl he was never going to see again. Well, maybe that was a little rash. Just because she had lied to him, held out on him, cheated on him -- was that any reason not to fuck her? He might as well hold on to her until something better came along. Maybe Theresa. She was really hot. Or Dwayne. "What's the matter?" She was shoving his shirt at him. "Put this on. You're shivering." "It's nothing." But he barely made it to her sink before he threw up. "Sorry," he gasped. "Too much beer, too much pizza." "Too much sex." He rinsed his mouth out, he peed. He looked at his watch. Three minutes left. They raced down the steps, no time to wait for the elevator, and sprinted over to the bus stop. Four minutes late, but the bus was still there. "Saturday?" She gave him a little kiss on the forehead. "Sure thing." "We'll take out a canoe." "Sounds like fun. " Something made him check his pockets. "My handkerchief. It's still in the dress." "No it's not. I have it right here." And she did. She handed it to him. "You were great today. Love you." And she kissed him again. He went up into the bus and sat down. The doors closed, and it rolled away. What the fuck did that mean? You were great today. What part had been so fucking great -- skipping around in a skirt bare assed, getting fucked up the ass? Was that going to be their typical date now? How many people were going to be in that canoe? Dwayne and another girl, and they'd all take turns pairing off? He was still holding the handkerchief. There was something in it, a little piece of paper, crumpled up -- no, not crumpled, folded very carefully, origami style. Something was written on it. "With love, T." No, that wasn't a T, it was a D. He opened it, and there was the rubber, the one Dwayne had been wearing. There was the little blue dot. His bet was safe, after all. He wanted to laugh, he wanted to cry, he had to sit very still to keep from puking again. He really had to pee, and each bounce over the potholes seemed like it was going to be the one to push him over the edge. Fifty bucks, he kept telling himself, fifty bucks. It was worth it.