15 comments/  40921 views/  37 favorites

My Michelle Ch. 01

By: d_p_sweetie



Michelle stood at the end of the pool, eyes closed and face upturned toward the sun. The water from the natural hot springs gave of a soft hint of sulfur smell, and made clouds of steam that I watched disintegrate as they writhed their ways rising around the soft, smooth curves of her body.

Michelle was 28, 5'11" with voluptuous curves and a trim figure. Her breasts were 36Cs, just perfect sized for worshipping, with thick responsive nipples at their centers. Her thighs were firm and thick, revealing a powerful musculature that was her genetic inheritance. She kept in shape with pretty regular running and yoga, as well as occasional gym visits. We'd been together about 6 months, after knowing each other for years —since high school, when she'd been a cheerleader, and one of the sexiest girls in school. 

I was only a year younger, and I'd kept in good shape but I wasn't the most dominant lover, and I could tell sometimes Michelle was disappointed in our sex life together. So I thought it would spice things up to visit the Hot Springs outside of town.

We had both just finished stripping down. Michelle hadn't realized we were visiting a place where people bathe nude. Even though I thought it was kind of a given when you said the word, hot springs, I figured it's possible she's never been to one or talked to someone about visiting one.

"Oh my god so you brought me here to expose my body to other men?"

"Honey there's nobody here," I said, "I'm sorry, Michelle. I didn't realize this would be awkward for you. We can go —It's just, I thought you might enjoy it."

Michelle cracked a sarcastic grin, "What, you think I'll enjoy letting some random strangers see my tits? Or maybe you think I'll enjoy looking at some other guys' cocks?"

I licked my lips unconsciously when she said this. She noticed, and her smirk twisted up just a little bit further on the side of her pretty mouth.

"Uhhhhh-huhhhh... That's what I thought." She taunted me like this from time to time, ever since she discovered my collection of cuckold porn, and I revealed to her that I fantasize about watching her with another man. She just can't seem to get over it —one day she'll insist over and over again that I'm not in love with her. One day she'll have it in her head that I'm gay. Another time she'll just treat me like a wimp, which is the most degrading of all.

"Baby, you don't have to be naked. We don't have to be here at all." I said, whole-heartedly. She regarded me a moment. 

"Oh, no, honey. I wouldn't want to deny you your fantasy of showing me off to other men. I'm going to parade my body around for all the guys at Cougar Hot Springs today. I'm your slutty girlfriend, just like in your cuckold movies."

I gulped as she said this. I didn't know how serious she was. I didn't know whether I could even handle it if she decided to tease me.

Suddenly a man emerged from the trail to the pools above. He looked to be in his mid- to late-40s. He seemed to have his whole routine down, which gave me the sense he was a regular here. I saw him take his shirt off and reveal a pretty impressive upper body. I looked away as he undid his pants and turned to my love, Michelle, who was watching intently as the man stood up and took off, then folded his pants.

Standing in speedos, he looked down across the other empty pools at us - first briefly at me, and then lingeringly on Michelle, who stood in all her naked splendor, completely exposed to his view. I watched my girlfriend anxiously, hoping she wouldn't become upset at me for bringing her to this place and making her expose herself in front of a stranger (only one so far, anyway!),

Momentarily stiff and apprehensive, Michelle's face slowly transitioned from an expression of shock at being seen in her unclothed state to a subtle smile. Her body relaxed and actually seemed to take on a languid sort of rocking-in-place motion, as she reached up to twist a lock of her hair in her fingers, while her softly smiling cheeks blushed and her nipples stiffened prominently to full attention under this stranger's gaze.

It was unmistakably clear when she raised her hand - gently waving an acknowledgment of their lingering appraisal of one another, and flashing a big welcoming smile at him —that Michelle's awkwardness had washed away in the mists of the hot springs.

Michelle turned to me with a look of exuberance and joy that I haven't ever seen before. "Oh my god, Aaron, wasn't that intense?" 

I gulped. 

She had a glow about her, like she had just been asked to prom by the star quarterback. "Did you see the way he was looking at me?" she confided, her breasts heaving and flushed with her excitement. "Did you like it?"

She looked briefly down at my cock, which was standing at attention, then covered her mouth in surprise and looked back up at me.

"I think you did!" She said, laughing at me loud enough for the stranger in the other pool to hear. 

He smiled our way, maintaining an earnest eye contact with my girlfriend as he took off his underwear. His cock —large to begin with— slowly stretched into a thick, hard pole. I couldn't believe what Michelle said when she looked back at me —"Aaron, did you see how big his cock is?"

I almost choked, her comment caught me so off-guard.

"What? Michelle, why —why would you even ask me that?"

She slapped my hard dick once, making it spring around, and then she looked back up at her admirer in the other pool, waving again. Then she started moving around like a model, sitting and standing in suggestive poses, clearly putting on a playful show for the man in the pool above —who stared at her display with open appreciation, and with whom she maintained a playful, teasing eye contact.

"Aaron, I think I like the way he looks at me," she said as she reclined, arching her back and spreading her legs for the man. 

"You think he can see my nipples getting all stiff and hard?" She reached a hand up to tweak one of the rosy buds capping her firm breasts. My dick was gong to bruise it was getting so hard.

"What are you doing, baby?"

"I'm being your dutiful slut girlfriend and showing my body off to other men, honey."

"Well, okay —but I'm not sure if—"

"Aaron, you brought me here for the sole purpose of being naked around other men, didn't you?"

"Well, I— yes, I mean—"

"And I can't help how my body responds to the way he's looking at me." she looked back to the man, and unconsciously placed one hand over her slit, "He's a beautiful, naked man, sitting all alone with his big hard dick up there."

I didn't know how to respond. "Michelle, are you serious?"

Michelle was just the faintest bit defensive, "Baby, what do you think? Look at the way he's looking at me."

I looked up at the man in the pool. His eyes smoldered as they roved over Michelle, her own eyes moving back and forth from him to her body and back to me. "You know, it was your idea to bring me here."

I couldn't argue. I let myself truly take it in for a minute, as I felt Michelle embrace and melt against me and heard her mutter dirtily to herself as she stared at the man in the pool with the big dick.

"It's just that," Michelle whispered in my ear, with a sense of gravity that told me she had some emotion invested, "Well, ever since you opened up to me about your fantasies, you always talk about wanting to see me with another man, and I always tell you I love you, and that I don't want anybody else —but that's not entirely true..."

I was getting a little nervous. "Michelle, is there someone you're having feelings for?"

"Um, I guess —about him?" Michelle watched the man as he stood up, calf-deep in the shallow pool. He took his erection in his hand, and it grew as we watched him gently pump it for Michelle's watching eyes. He smiled devilishly at her. 

Michelle's gaze lingered on him a while, eyes misty with desire. Then she looked back into my eyes. "I have a feeling that guy's dick would feel really good in my pussy, Aaron." My breath caught when she spoke so bluntly.

"I'm going to go and sit in his pool with him."

"No, Michelle- don't..."

"Don't worry, Aaron," she said, her fingers absently going to stroke the outside of her pussylips, "I'm just going to talk to him."

I was speechless as I watched my girlfriend saunter slowly up the paving stones to the cooler pool a couple pools away, where the man was now lounging. She glanced back my way with a taunting smirk. It was far enough that I couldn't really hear what they were saying, but I watched as she eased her smooth, naked form into the pool with him, the twin humps of her asscheeks skimming just above the water's surface as she strode to stand before him, the water only reaching up to mid-thigh. She smiled and flushed as she offered her hand in introduction.

He took her hand and squeezed it, looking into her sparkling green eyes a moment as he held it in his. She smiled seductively for this handsome and well-hung stranger. He said something and chucked his chin in my direction. 

She looked back with him, a dismissive expression on her face. They resumed their introduction, and at one point he said something that made her blush, looking down coquettishly. His eyes roved over her flesh like smoke. She was laughing happily, entertained by the handsome stranger.

Their animated conversation bubbled over the still and moist air that clung to the air around the steaming pools. I thought about the view he must be getting, of Michelle's wet, voluptuous chest standing proudly and sexily on display —nipples stiff and engorged, wagging and pointing this way and that when she laughed; the curve of her belly, as it disappeared into the fleshy plateau of her pelvis, coming to the mound of her snug, cloven pouch.

Then I saw, very clearly, as she stepped towards him and put her hands over her pussy mound, looking down and smiling as she squeezed together her engorged lips, around the little landing strip. He nodded and spoke a moment while he investigated her mound. Apparently they were discussing her pubic hair. She looked back at me with a teasing smile. Then she sat down in the pool beside him.

The man was clearly enchanted with her - and what idiot wouldn't be? My girlfriend had just presented her naked body for this man nearly twice her age! She wasn't straddling his giant cock, or giving him a hand job, but the pool wasn't exactly large. I imagined their legs were probably grazing or bumping against one another, in a pretense of accident less convincing to those not pretending.

After a while I saw her rise and hold her hair up in a bunch above her head. Her tits pushed out excitedly as she sort of twisted lightly back and forth in place, titillated by the show she was giving this stranger. 

Suddenly inspired, he reached into a bundle stashed to the side of the pool, pulled out a camera —he held it up to her questioningly, as if for permission.

She hesitated, looked back at me. She smiled, embarrassed for me, as she saw me holding my dick tight against my stomach. 

Laughing, she yelled, "Aaron, is it okay if Frank takes some pictures of me?!"

I just stood there, slackjawed.

She giggled and turned back to him, nodding enthusiastically. She looked back at me again briefly, wistfully; mysteriously. Then she sat down on the edge of the pool, posting her hands and arching her back out, the sexiness of her exposure and wanton behavior bringing a smoldering look to her eyes. Her lips seemed to puff up, and her nipples were harder than I've ever seen.

She sat like that for a little while, indulging his suggestions on posture as he shot pictures of her naked body. It was like one of the hottest literotica stories I'd ever read, come to life...

I watched as she writhed around in an improvisation of sexual exultation, biting her lower lip as she looked to the sky with eyes closed. He snapped away from different angles, having her recline, pose and touch her body erotically. He had her pose like a naughty girl and pout, and then turn and get on all fours to present her ass and pussy in the air, craning her neck to smile back at the camera. 

Eventually Frank began touching her —lifting one of her legs out of the water, flexing it to bring the knee up to her chin. She helped him by holding the leg, and he started shooting close-ups of her pussy. She opened her eyes, lit from within by a lustful abandon. He asks her something, and she smiles wider, bringing her hand up in to accommodate his request, and touch her pussy for him. Then she touched her pussy with both hands, fingers pulling the lips apart to reveal a peak of her pink love canal. Soon, she is reclining, back fully arched, as the back of her head layed against the rocks surrounding the pool, and gasping and moaning as she massaged her clit into view.

I walk to the pool nearest Michelle and the stranger, so I can hear them now.

"Oh that's sexy. Yes," Frank urges her on. "You're a natural, Michelle." She smiles wistfully at him, "Can you finger yourself? Would that be uncomfortable?"

Michelle looks at me standing nearby, as she brings her hand up to lick a crooked finger, then she looks back at him, licking her lips as she inserts her finger into her horny snatch.

The man saw me, paused for a second to evaluate my vibe. He realizes I am no threat. "Hey, man. You should get in the shot with her," he says to me commandingly. "Hold her head in your lap."

I obey, and walk over to kneel behind her, so her head is resting in my lap, my hardon rubbing against the side of her face as she saws her fingers in and out of her cunt.

"Rub her tits." He said. I started massaging her breasts, her back still arched dramatically as she writhed with the passion of her building orgasm.

"Oh, Aaron," she said, looking up at me between fits of ecstasy, then back to Frank "...Oh this is so fucking sexy," she said to him.

He smiled, and told me to suck on her breasts, which I eagerly did. Then he told me to rub my cock on them, so I kneeled differently, trying to support her head.

Michelle was distracted by my movement. She looked up at Frank, concerned.

"Wouldn't this shot be better if you did it, Frank?"

I looked at her, "You mean—?"

Michelle looked up at me, consoling. "Aaron, it's just that —well, you can see for yourself!" She indicated his big dick with her eyes, dangling between his legs as he shot pictures of me helping my wife fondle herself.

"I mean, honey, it's for the sake of the picture, is all. I think a bigger cock would look better against my body —I mean, right? You don't mind, do you? He said he'll give us copies afterward..." she said, teasing me.

"I guess, if it's for the picture," I said, hesitant. He stood up all the way and walked over to us, offering his camera to me. I had to focus not to look at the massive purple-headed erection dangling between his thighs.

"Do you know how to use this?" He asked, and gave me a couple pointers. Michelle fingered herself lazily, then brought both knees up to her chin and smiled at us, as we both eyed her messy-looking pussy. So red and inflamed with desire. Her clit was giant. Most of the time I couldn't even find it. Posing for this guy was making her so horny you could see it from space!

I took the camera and positioned it to watch them, as she reclined again, eyes glued to his massive dick, as he brought it near her face, and slapped it once across her tit, rubbing it around on the nipple —his pre-come stretching and glistening in a string between her thick red nub and the head of his cock when he lifted it again.

I was snapping away, and he reached a hand to her head, to stroke her other cheek, and bring his thumb to her lips, which eagerly sucked it in. She returned his hungry gaze as she licked and sucked his thumb, his cock sliding against her chest as she bucked her hips in a slow undulating cycle, all the while earnestly plunging her fingers in and out of herself.

"Tell us what to do, baby," she said, looking up to smile at me. "You're the director now."

The stranger looked at me expectantly, his cock absently rubbing against my girlfriend's tit.

"Um..." I said, "I guess... maybe, touch her lips... With your... Cock..."

Michelle looked up at him, excited, as he changed position to follow my instructions. He gently slid the head of his dick against her full lips, as she smiled giddily, a trail of pre-come twinkling in the emerald light of the woods surrounding us. The steam from the springs made it look so perfect and beautiful, this erotic scene. My girlfriend's mouth, an object for a random stranger's pleasure.

"Kiss it, Michelle." She looked at me playfully and puckered her lips against his head, smacking as she kissed it, followed by a low and sultry laughter, coming from deep in her stomach.

"Rub it on her face," I said. And he did just that, smearing his dick across her cheek, her nose, her mouth —she laughed gently. "Yeah... All over..."

"Mmmmmm... Your pre-come tastes good," my girl told Frank, then smiled teasingly at me, the tip of her tongue peeking out between her teeth.

I gulped, and told him, "Put your fingers in her."

He looked at her lustily and complied. She removed her hand from her pussy as he cupped her mons. Her hand clutched her breast for lack of something better, and she licked at the shaft of his dick, now absently rubbing against her face.

"Suck him, Michelle," I said between snapping pictures.

Michelle smiled eagerly and grabbed his cock in hand, winking at me before she closed her eyes and opened her mouth, leaning forward to swallow his meat. She held on and sucked, humming and caving in her mouth around his big organ. He looked up to the sky with closed eyes as he kept fingering her pussy.

I wanted so bad to jerk off, but I wanted even more to document this moment for later. I was lost. I wasn't even jealous. I just wanted to watch her writhe in ecstasy against this man's fingers, her mouth full of his giant veined erection, totally immersed in the pleasure of sucking on a strange cock.

"Eat her out while she sucks you."

Frank climbs over her and leans in to start licking her cunt. I shot photos of them writhing together in 69 for a while. They were beautiful together. It was like watching a performance, or viewing a work of art. Michelle sucked his dick so good, and he fingered her with expert dedication and sensitivity. I'd never seen her react like this in sex. I assumed it was owing to the stranger factor, as she gobbled up and down hungrily on his meat.

I took pictures of her face up close as she played with his dick, and kissed and suckled the head between longer slurps. Michelle looked over at me as she slobbered over his pole, holding onto the base of his cock at the groin while she craned up at him and he pumped into her —her eyes glimmering with the excitement of her sexual abandon, and the fun of teasing her man with another man's dick. I clicked again and again on the camera —I couldn't believe we would have this moment captured in images afterwards.

She pulls his swollen flesh out of her mouth with a smack of her lips and a big open smile, precome and saliva mingling and glistening all over the head of his cock, as she asked me, "Aaron, how far are we going to take this baby?"

I gulped, and clicked away on the camera. Watching their ecstatic dance of flesh, I had no answer but the only one that would bring us even deeper into this depraved little paradise we'd cultivated in our life together.

"All the way, honey."

"What do you mean, Aaron?"

"I mean, all the way. You know."

"I want to hear you say it, baby. Otherwise I'll feel bad."

"I want you to fuck."

Michelle's eyes grew large; playful, "Are you sure?"

Frank smiled at her.

"Oh yes. I want to watch you ride him like a slut."

"Are you really, really sure Aaron? We don't have any condoms, and I'm not on the pill. What if Frank gets me pregnant, baby?"


My Michelle Ch. 01



"I don't care. You can get an abortion."

"Honey, you know I wouldn't do that."

"Then, I'll raise the fucking thing!"

"Aaron!"

"Please, Michelle."

"Don't ask me, it's Frank who's going to do the fucking. I'm just the girl with the holes." She looked up at Frank, playfully.

"Frank, please fuck my girlfriend."

Frank stands up, and touches Michelle affectionately around her waist, as she looks up at him. He guides her to flip over onto her stomach so she's leaning forward over the edge of the pool, and her pussy is lined up right in front of his hips. She looks back, eyes moving between the two of us men.

"You sure? No turning back, kid," Frank said to me as he stroked her right hip, guiding his sausage to tickle its head against her engorged lips with his other hand. I snapped away at the light foreplay, overwhelmed in my imagination by the sheer proximity of his flesh to hers.

He looked like he truly belonged there, standing at her threshold, absently massaging the mounds of her asscheeks as he prepared to claim her for himself once and for all. I was speechless as I watched the wet glistening head rub against the soft folds of her entrance.

Snap. Snap. Snap. I couldn't stop taking pictures of their horny spectacle.

"Oh, put it in me, Frank," Michelle murmured.

I watched, rapt, as Frank eased his hips forward, and her legs moved unconsciously to widen up her stance as her pussy opened to accept his size. I watched every inch slip slowly into her suctioning hole. I reveled as her ass came to grind and moosh against his pelvis. Her hands clutched for holds, and her legs twitched, as she floated in ecstasy, this new lover probing inside her, deeper than I'd ever been or could ever be.

"Oh, god, yes!" She exclaimed. "It's so big!"

"Is it okay, honey?" I wanted to make sure she wasn't hurt from his size. I walked in arcs around them, looking for the right angles to shoot from. My dick was so rigid it hurt.

"Shut up, Aaron!" She reprimanded me sharply. Then she craned her neck to look up at Frank, eyes full of wonder and anticipation. "Fuck me, lover."

And with that, Frank began to pump his meat in and out of her. Slowly at first, as her pussy performed it's teasing little gyrations against the ridge of the shaft sliding in and out of it. Then faster, and harder. 

Her arm came up and back to clumsily find his neck, which she brought down to enable her to kiss him passionately on the mouth as he plowed her from behind, her breasts swinging beneath her —rubbing against the flat wet stones surrounding the pool. I shot as many angles as possible of them in this contortion —rooted between her ass and his pelvis, her graceful form twisting, naked to join her mouth to his.

"Oh, Frank!" She moaned, heedless of my presence. "I've never felt like this," She was gasping and panting with the pleasure of Frank's cock pulsing and throbbing as it slid in and out of her wet snatch. "Oh, it's so good."

Frank held her firmly by the hips as he drove relentlessly into her, over and over again, her upper body flailing exultantly in reaction, her face a constant play between glazed pleasure and livid naughtiness.

Soon Michelle was writhing harder and harder against Frank's bucking hips, pounding her ass back against him for all she was worth, her head tossing back and forth as an erotic scream built inside of her —from her g-spot, until it broke out of her, escaping her lips with the golden vibration of orgasm, spasming against his rod so that he had to pull out of her, and tense for a moment, to delay his own climax.

She instantly reached back, violently, for his cock. Her pussy was already addicted to it, it would seem. He stood back, grabbing her hand to pull her up. They embraced and kissed each other for a long, passionate spell, standing in the water of the hot spring, the steam climbing around their entwined forms —the world outside their mouths and hands and sex, forgotten.

I took picture after picture, gripping my hardon tight.

Michelle clutched at Frank with a manic passion, eventually forcing him into a sitting position on the ledge of the pool, and pushing him to lie on his back. Then she looked back at me as she planted her hands on his chest, and moved to straddle him, seeking out the tip of his cock with her gyrating hips, teasing her pussy against it until she got the right angle. Then she eased her body slowly onto the slick swollen flesh of his cock, and began to ride it.

And she rode Frank, so wild and strong. I could see how much she loved being his slut. She looked so beautiful, heaving in throes astride his big hard dick, locking her body onto his —allowing him to own her deep inside. My Michelle.

She rode him like that for what seemed like ever. He gripped her at the hip flesh, smooshing her ass together as she landed on him, or occasionally reaching up to fondle and squeeze her wet, round tits.

I relished in the way she seized and shuddered on top of him. Thinking of how it was this other man whose cock was doing this to her, and right in front of me. I don't know how to explain it, but it made me feel proud —proud of her for being so open with her sex, so free with her pleasure and her body's pursuit of it.

I snapped picture after picture of Michelle writhing and moaning on another man's dick in front of me —my beautiful, sexy slut girlfriend. She'd never seemed so beautiful than at that moment, the first time I watched her surrender her body to another man's pleasure. 

I loved her. I loved the slut in her. I loved this moment, watching her furiously riding the dick of a stranger. Maybe she'd agree to be my wife some day. Maybe she would dance at my bachelor party for me and my friends. Oh my god, what would we do for the honeymoon? 

"Oh, Frank" She cooed to him. "Are you getting close?" She asked? She was clearly savoring every moment.

"I am," he affirmed. "I'm going to cum."

"Cum inside me," she told him. "I want to feel you shoot in me."

Pretty soon Frank started grunting, and bucking harder under her, and gripping her cunt against him with his hands at her waist, kissing her fiercely as he sprayed his sperm all over inside her womb.

Michelle clung to him, hunched over. She nibbled at his shoulder, and her face twisted and contorted in expressions of ecstasy and abandon. Her wet hips shuddered in frantic little shakes back and forth across Franks pulsing hips, his cock rooted as deep inside her channel as she could allow.

The frenzy slowed, and they melted into an embrace, all tender kisses and misty smiles in the afterglow of what was probably one of the best fucks of Michelle's life. At least, judging from her response. His dick softened and eventually slipped out of her pussy, with a little plop. Laying as they were across the stones I could see the first traces of his semen begin to leak out of her pretty pussy, all stretched and flushed from the ravaging he gave her.

I got up close to her ass, to make sure I got a good picture of her fresh creampie, his softening rod touching up against her inner thigh as they lay in a relaxed embrace, pulses and breath returning to a normal pace. They looked up at me together and smiled, and I shot the perfect picture —Michelle, laying naked on top of her lover's spent body —both of them, lazy smiles; her cunt in the foreground, leaking rivulets of his semen from the stretched and flushed lips.

Frank reached up to her ass with both hands, and spread the lips apart more, so that his come began to fall out in bigger gobs. He must have filled her up completely. I snapped away as she smiled at me.

"Honey you know what time it is now."

"What do you mean?"

"Like in your cuckold movies?"

I knew where she was going with this, but I didn't know if I was ready.

"Isn't it your job to clean me up now so I don't get pregnant?"

"Oh, honey, I don't know if I'm ready for that yet..."

Michelle rolled off of Frank, sitting up and framing her pussy with her hands.

"Come on, cucky-boy —this is what happens when you let other men fuck your girl."

I hesitated.

"Aaron, I mean it. Now," she said, imperious. "Lick my pussy."

"Come on, Aaron," Frank chided.

What could I do? I waded over to the edge of the pool, handing Frank his camera back and kneeling before Michelle's cum-filled pussy. A mess of semen coated and splooged out of the opening. I smelled the heady bouquet of Frank's seed as I got closer, and tasted the salty flavor and stringy texture as I lapped the first of his cum up with my tongue.

"There you go, baby," Michelle said, encouraging me like a child, "Now you're a real cuckold."

The two of them laughed together as they watched me lick and suck Frank's cum out of my girlfriend's pussy. I massaged her thighs and she ran her fingers through my hair as I gorged myself on her. Frank massaged her breasts and kissed her on the mouth as I lapped away. 

My fantasies had come true —I was a real cuckold now. I didn't know where this relationship would go from here, but I knew one thing for sure. I loved Michelle. I loved how she loved me, and I loved what a slut she became today. I wanted to marry this girl, and make her mine. My Michelle...



My Michelle Ch. 02



Author's Note: Thanks for the feedback to Part One. Part Two and much of Part Three was completed several months ago, but were both on a USB drive that failed completely. It has been reconstructed from memory. 

*************************************

I woke up the next morning without any of the usual aches and pains, and no trace of a hangover. That was weird enough on its own. Rubbing my eyes, I slowly remembered I hadn't gone to bed alone last night, but the other side of the bed was empty. I lived two miles off the nearest paved road and at least fifteen miles, depending on your choice of back road, from downtown Cambridge, Mississippi. Where the fuck had Michelle gotten off to? But first I stumbled to the bathroom for that all-important first piss of the day.

Moving out toward the kitchen, I was sniffing the addictive scent of bacon cooking. My brain still wasn't stringing one and one together. Give me a fucking break, I am not a morning person despite years of Uncle Sam trying to force me. As I rounded the corner into the kitchen, I caught the delectable sight of Michelle, still wearing her heavy leather collar, wrist and ankle cuffs, and in her leather garter belt and stockings from last night's fun, standing at my stove assembling BLTs atop her five-inch fuck-me spikes. Damn, she'd slept in those shoes. We'd fallen asleep and I'd forgotten about those straps that padlocked the shoe into the ankle cuffs. Ooopsie.

"Good morning, dear!" I loudly announced. She swiveled rather well in her heels. She did a sort of half-curtsey and opened the refrigerator, handing me a cold can of Mountain Dew. Yes, that horrible green shit will kill me one of these days, but the Cuban cigars might too. Fuck off. 

"Good morning, sir. I couldn't decide whether to wake you up with a long blowjob or serve you breakfast in bed."

"Looks to me like you struck out at both", I teased.

She gave her best sex-kitten pout. Her hair had that unkept look that studio hairdressers had worked hard to give Bridgette Bardot on her best days. "I was going to go for both. Fix breakfast, then come in and suck you dry before feeding you. I think I was craving a nice shot of tasty cum with my breakfast, if Master would be so kind as to fuck my mouth...."

It's been years, and I still want to know how she came up with that stuff. When aroused, and I rarely knew her not to be, her sweet Southern drawl was a nonstop flow of the most incredible filth. She really loved to talk dirty, and get talked to dirty. My mind wandered for a bit and snapped back at "take your nice hard cock in my ass sometime."

"Michelle, dear, I want to fuck your ass until you screamed from the joy of it, but it's a set of muscles that needs to be worked on slowly before it can take much abuse and be much fun And speaking of abuse, your feet must be killing you."

She looked down at her shiny black patent heels. "Actually I hadn't noticed. I've been walking all over the house trying to get used to them. Falling over isn't sexy. I want to look sexy in these things. If I'm going to be a bondage whore, I have to look good at it." She did her best supermodel strut across the kitchen and back to the counter, and blood started flowing south, making my dick twitch in anticipation of fucking her again soon. She finished dishing up our breakfasts and carried the plates into the living room. Eating at my kitchen table was out of the question, as it was overflowed with a Dillon progressive reloading rig to supply the amount of .45 ammo I went through every spring and summer. 

She had set the plates down on the coffee table and had bent over the arm of the couch. Her hands were placed deliberately so as to maximize the elevation of her truly porn star quality ass as she wiggled her hips teasingly. She looked back over her shoulder invitingly, and loudly cleared her throat before blowing me a kiss. 

I walked up behind her and slapped her across the ass about half as hard as I could really manage. "Presumptuous little slut this morning, aren't we?" I grinned, and then spanked her twice more before hunger took over and I sat down.

She softly moaned. "I swear, one shot, I even think about taking that first shot across my ass, and my pussy just gets soaked. That never happened before yesterday. It's a whole new world...sir, may your slut play with her pussy before she eats?"

"No, if she displays some discipline and waits until breakfast is over, I'll play with her pussy for her. Actually as a minor point of ownership it might technically be my pussy. Either way, siddown."

She sighed as she sat down, perching prettily on the front of the couch. Michelle had managed to cook it crispy without drying it out, of course it also helped I got my bacon from a local farmer and not the grocery. The stuff was sliced as thick as the planks of the deck out back and was twice as meaty as the shit you got at Kroger. It was one of the few delights that still makes me miss that town. We dove into the sandwiches, having worked up an appetite the night before and needing some nourishment to get through what was probably going to be a long rainy Sunday of fucking her pretty little ass off. 

After we ate, I found the padlock key and undid all her cuffs. She put a hand to her collar protectively. "This stays on, right, sir?" 

I grinned. "Certainly. If your neck needs a break though, just ask." I rubbed her feet, which despite her claims she was fine had to have ached from a night in the heels unless they were just too perfect a fit. Bullshit. First time in spikes like that she had to have been hurting, but I'd allow her being too proud to admit it. 

We just sort of lazed on the couch, saying little, just silently cuddling. She blew me at one point, and I tickled her clit until she came, then we dozed off. 

I woke up from a nap to find Michelle still cuddled with me. She was fiddling with the VCR remote and apparently studying the backroom lap dance scene from the early part of Showgirls. I dozed back off. 

I woke to a nibble on my ear. "Sir, I have a little surprise for you in a minute." I wasn't totally awake again. Damn, sex and laziness. I took a long blink, rubbing my eyes. She stalked back out of the bedroom like a tigress, wearing the black thigh-high stripper boots with her nipple clamps already in place. Hair and makeup were perfectly slutty. The CD player beeped as she stopped and posed, then changed poses again. She turned her back to me, and spread the cheeks of her ass. One of the butt plugs was plainly visible as she looked back over her shoulder and blew me a kiss. I reflected very quickly again that I was very lucky and really going to have to watch myself long term. Short term I didn't give a shit. Danzig's "Under Her Black Wings" began coming from the stereo as she straddled me on the couch. "Hello, sir. My name is Michelle, and I'll be your lap dancer this evening. Since I consider myself your property, your hands can go anywhere you like unlike that cocktease we just watched. And of course my holes are available to you in ways they wouldn't be at the bar, so should you feel the need at any point in the performance to rape my cunt, please do." She ground against me, grinning as she felt my cock harden again inside my jeans. She then leaned forward and ran her fingers through my hair, her big firm breasts between us. 

As she licked and nibbled at the side of my neck, grinding down on my lap, I gave the chain connecting her nipple clamps a nice firm tug. She shuddered a bit and moaned happily as she apparently aimed to give me a nice hickey to go to class with tomorrow. Her long black hair draped across my face as she shifted sides of my neck. Under her black wings indeed. Two could play that game, and I moved in myself, feeling the pulse in her neck against my teeth. I didn't know she was into Gothy vampire rock, so I gave her a nice bite back. "Mmmmm, harder, sir, but somewhere else...." She broke contact and climbed up on the couch. She placed the pale skin of her inner thigh in front of my face. "Mark me, sir. I beg you to mark me as yours." I cupped my hands behind her ass to brace her, and just went to work. I sucked and licked and bit until the tooth marks were plainly seen and the whole area was an angry red-purple. I then turned a little to the right and gave her pussy a quick lick. It was dripping. She slid over and down, putting her pussy firmly in my face. I'd played trumpet for fourteen years and had only give it up at the end of my first senior year the year before. I still could do things with my lips and tongue that lesbians could only dream of. Michelle, with her series of coked-up frat boys, had never had a tongue ride like this, and I reached around behind her and started playing with her plug. 

Idly I noted Danzig had given way to Type O Negative, a song I couldn't place. Fuck, most of their shit sounded the same anyway so it wasn't worth wasting brain space on as her moaning turned into a little shriek of joy. I kept it up as she got louder and louder, bucking against me with her first orgasm. I wanted to find out how easy a multiple she'd be, so I kept going. She quickly slid into a second orgasm within two minutes, and a third a minute after that. The hell with it. I went for four. I was trying to make her into a little obedient nymphomaniac, so why not give her what she wanted? She ground her cunt down onto my face, screaming like an air raid siren with some "FUCK YES FUCK YES SIR MORE SIR!" thrown in. After that I lost count. I went on eating her pussy until my tongue went numb and her knees buckled. She fell back down into my arms. 

Once again, I had a raging world class hard-on. Michelle was in no condition to take orders right now, even as simple as "Unzip me, slave", so I did it myself. Scraping myself as I undid the button and got the Levi's cock-shredding zipper out of the way, I ignored the pain with thoughts of the wonderland that was Michelle's cunt. I threw her to one end of the couch, shoved myself roughly into her dripping tight pussy from behind, and wrapped my left hand into her long black hair like it was a bullrider's rope. I slammed into her as hard and as fast as I could as she begged and screamed for more and harder. With my right hand, I worked on turning as much of her creamy ass pink again as possible, throwing the best spanks I could.

"Fuck your slut, sir. Pull that plug out and finish in my asshole. No one's ever had my ass before, it's your ass, please?" she whined at me in between gasps. Slowly, as I kept hammering her pussy, I worked on getting that plug out of there. I was impressed, it was the big one. Well, my dick was totally coated in her juices, so I took a chance. I slowly slid in expecting her to wince or complain. God, she took it like a professional, just a little squeal that could still be mistaken as happy. I saw her hand slide back to her clit and headed that off with a sharp smack to her ass and a tug on her hair. "Michelle, you know better than to play with your pussy without permission. Why is that?"

I held very still in her ass awaiting an answer. "Because it's your pussy, sir", she purred at me "You own it, you control what I do with it. God, I'm such a fucking slut. Not even two days and I can't keep my hands off myself."

"That's a good answer, dear", I pulled most of the way out, and I slammed my cock back into her. I was already playing rougher than I normally dared on a first time ass fuck, Michelle wasn't the first one I'd broken in, but she was just soaking it up plus I had to hurt her a little for the attempted clit-rubbing.

"Omigawd, yeah, yeah, oh please, do that again...mmmmm"

"That's do that again what?" I slammed into her ass again.

She let out a squeal that was positively orgasmic. "SIR! MASTER! DAVE! I'LL CALL YOU GOD IF YOU WANT, JUST FUCK YOUR SLUT!"

"I'll answer to any of the above, Michelle. Just never forget who is in charge here." I thrust into her again. God, it was tight, but the several good orgasms has relaxed her muscles Back There. She definitely seemed sensitive and responsive back there. How much of that was the psychological stimulation of giving up her ass, I didn't know and really didn't care. I was just wondering if I could make her cum with a straight ass-fuck before I blew my own load.

"I won't sir, I'm yours, your fuck toy. Ohmy.....gawd, I'm gonna cum so hard..." I cut her off , shoving back into her, reaching around beneath and giving the chain of the nipple clamps another rough tug. She gasped, then purred. "Fuck yeah...mmmmm". Another thrust, harder still, then another.

I tugged her hair, jerking her head back and growling in her ear. "Who's not going to forget what she is?"

"Your little slut won't, sir Ever since you smacked my ass and proved what I wanted, what I was, I'm yours. Harder, sir, pleasepleaseplease?" 

I smacked her ass and went harder. She shuddered and squealed in orgasm about five seconds before I came hard. We slowly came down off the high., me sliding out and fortunately finding no embarrassing cling-ons on my dick. If you're going to play anally, you're going to run into shit eventually, you just have to deal with it. I just didn't want it to be her first time. I went for the Kleenex box and took care of us both as not to stain the couch. I sat down, and pulled her onto my lap for a nice hug. 

Michelle purred in my ear. "Sir, it was a very naughty thing for me to play with myself without permission. Should I fetch the paddle or the crop?"

Some days you just get lucky. But dealing with the logistics of the next week, Michelle and I both having classes at different places and times, keeping all this covert, it was going to be a rough five days until the weekend. Oh, well. It could wait. "I think the paddle to warm you up and the crop to sting a bit, but you're not used to it". Until then, there was more play to be done.    Tomorrow's problems could wait. 



My Michelle Ch. 02



The next day, I think we both expected to take it a little easy. Our little foray into sexual openness had been thrilling, but I was nervous about where it would go from here if I didn't step on the brakes a little. I'm sure Michelle was having similar thoughts.

We talked about it on the way out of camp. I asked her, "How do you feel, baby?"

She said, "Oh, a little sore. But a good sore." She smiled warmly at the memory.

"I really liked watching you," I said. "It made me proud of you how well you fucked Frank."

"Oh baby it was so exciting you were there to support and approve of every dirty thing we did —I don't think I've ever felt so liberated."

We hit the pools early this morning, and had the place to ourselves for some time. In truth, I think we were becoming bored. Neither of us said much more about yesterday, but I think it was dominating both of our minds equally. Well, maybe not equally. Michelle was the one who got to experience a new lover. I just watched.

Still, it was hard to tell who was probably thinking about it more —I couldn't get the image of Michelle with Frank out of my head. Him rubbing his cock on her mouth as I took pictures; her kissing him passionately as I sat alone; her, vaulting up and down on him, impaling herself again and again on his giant, throbbing erection.

Anyway, we were lounging and drifting in our separate thoughts, when a number of young men entered the area and stripped, settling into one of the cooler pools above us. Michelle pretended to not notice them. 

We were sitting in the hotter pool, thinking they were just going to leave us alone, and we'd gotten comfortable quietly chatting again, when the three of them changed their minds, and came and joined us in our small pool. They were all in their early 20s; athletic and lean, and tan as if all they did was surf in Hawaii. And naked.

Their cocks were just as golden-brown as their chests. Michelle was leaning on the insides of her arms, her back up against the edge of the pool, which pushed her firm breasts up and out of the water, her nipples tantalizingly stiff. 

The three young guys descended into our pool, and Michelle watched closely as their semi-hard cocks swung about as their bodies slid in the water. She gave off a kind of irritable vibe, but Michelle wouldn't have stayed in the pool a moment if she were actually irritated. I guess she was anxious, and curious. 

One of the young guys had a little patchwork bundle with him, out of which he pulled a glass pipe and a jar of herb. Michelle smiled at me, raising her eyebrows. We don't smoke weed a lot but we'll indulge if there's no harm in it. Michelle tends to lose inhibitions even more when she's toked a little.

They passed it among themselves a cycle, and then offered it to Michelle, since she was closest to the trio.

Michelle smiled. She said, "Thank you," demure and inviting. She took a big pull off of the pipe, and I couldn't help but fantasize for a second that it was the head of one of these guys' dicks she held against her lips. I didn't know how this fantasy had come to be so strong it could overpower my own self-respect and dignity like this, but damned if I wasn't just ready all over again to see Michelle play with another stranger's cock before me. I wondered if she would ever even consider such an experience again.

Then she passed me the pipe, and stood up a second while she did it. I could see how hard her nipples still were, just throbbing with excitement from the sexual tension in this steaming pool. I knew she was turned on by these young athletic sun gods with their golden rods.

I took a hit, and watched as Michelle looked around in nervous anticipation, now and again making eye contact with one of the guys, and smiling bright at him before looking away —likely, unsure if they'd find an overforward reaction to be too slutty for their tastes.

One of asked Michelle if she wanted a massage.

"What was that?" she said, pretending to be aloof.

"I asked if you'd permit me to give you a friendly massage."

"You want to give me a massage? But, why?"

"Uh, I guess because you have one of the most exquisite bodies I've ever seen, and I'd like to put my hands all over you."

Michelle's eyes lit up, and her demeanor changed —she sensed a hard cock, and she wanted it.She said, "Oh that's sweet. I would love a massage. But you'll have to ask my boyfriend if it's okay," quite polite and matter-of-factly.

So the dude walked closer to me, which gave Michelle a great view of his cock and balls as he reached his hand out to shake mine. I saw her intensely eyeing the length of it as I grasped his hand.

"I'm Andy," he said.

"Aaron." I replied, watching Michelle's nipples harden as one of her thighs began to brush up against Andy's leg under the water. "And this is Michelle."

He turns and stands there, his dick hardening in front of us, aiming straight at Michelle's face. He watches her for a minute as she eyes it. We all watch her, and she is oblivious, hypnotized by this stranger's cock hovering in her space. 

"Aaron, Michelle said she'd like for me to massage her but that I'd need to ask you first."

He starts swaying his hips towards her playfully, as if threatening to poke her with his hard on. She actually reached up and tweaked her nipple, as she licked her lips absently, eyeing the head of his cock as it darted toward and away from her elf-like face in the air before her, reclined as she was in the pool.

"You don't mind me giving her body a little rubdown, do you?"

I looked at her beautiful green eyes, as she studied the muscled torso and pelvis attached to the cock that had her so enchanted. The stranger the night before had been handsome and confident, but this guy was like a young god! She studied him like an exquisite and expensive piece of art, clearly lusting after his golden body. I wondered what she would look like with those sculpted lips wrapped around Andy's shaft.

"No, " I said softly. I looked over at Michelle, who was now staring open-mouthed at the bulbous missle thrusting out from this young stud's golden, toned thighs, but she turned as I said that. "You can rub Michelle's body... all over, if you want." I wondered what to say —it was hard not to feel like a sissy, as I invited another man to fondle my girl. "I mean, as long as she likes it," I amended.

Andy looked at Michelle, who smirked at us both, "Well, we'll have to see how this massage goes and move from there. I need to see if I like how you rub me before I let you rub me everywhere."

He introduced himself while his cock was stabbing out at her face, "My name is Andy."

She looked in his eyes sort of teasingly with a boastful smile and says, "Pleased to meet you. Andy..." she said as she reached her hand out to shake his, which basically put her hand within six inches of his now-throbbing hardon. 

He kind of regards her slyly, as if what follows was what she intended as he sways his hips again and slaps his cock on her hand over and over again. All of us are watching in slightly shocked awe, I am getting totally hard watching my girlfriend as she watches —to my surprise, with only a playful smile, and a low deep-throated laugh as this guy we've never met before slaps her lovely little hand with his cock, like she's a little slut for the taking. Like there's nothing at all negative or odd about it. Like my choice to encourage her with Frank yesterday would forever change our lives together.

For an ungodly amount of time she kept her hand right there, as Andy slapped his weiner gently against it, over and over, looking in her eyes, which were darting back and forth to his stiffening boner patting against her open hand and up to his eyes and back. All the while, unconsciously licking her lips in that way she tended to. 

Finally she laughs and says, "Oh STOP IT already," and looks at him with mock reproval, and then back to me with a bashful smile on her cheeks as she softly reaches out and squeezes his big cock with her soft little grip. Looking up at him with kind of a slack-jawed, wanton smile, she starts stroking and squeezing his shaft and says, "Aaron, look at this guy's cock —it's fucking amazing..."

Michelle tugs on Andy's dick at different speeds for a second, watching me playfully for a reaction, while Andy smiles, devilish and proud over his newfound playmate. Teasingly, she jerks him a little more before letting go and pushing up to her feet in the pool. She teases Andy, "So I think it's time for my massage, Andy..." She looks so beautiful and sexy there in the steam and water, bare from the hips, sweat and water commingling as it rolled off of her firm, smooth skin.

She presses her entire nude frontside against Andy's and breathes up at him, lustful and intent, "Do me from behind," she nods sidelong at the nook of the pool where she had been sitting,

My jaw drops and my dick turns into a pole at once. Andy is cool as he puts his hands down around Michelle's hips, as if he is using her curves to guide him as he turns to get behind her, and the two of them smoosh and grind their naked bodies against each other as they trade places in the confined corner of the pool, right beside my own seat. Andy nods at me politely but indifferently as he gropes my girlfriend. Michelle looks at me as she slithers her body slowly and earnestly against his, and she gives me a smirk as she reaches down and pulls on his cock and squeezes it once more before guiding him in to sit with it, like as if it was a joystick controller. She giggled as she bent over so her tits dangled before him as Andy settled down into the rocky seat.

"Ready or not" she says, and backs up toward him until her calves bump against his knees. "Oh!" she exclaims as he puts his hands on her naked hips, and pulls her to sit between his legs.

She sits down and leans her back warmly against Andy's chest, rolling the back of her head against his strong shoulder as her hips massage her ass against his cock. I can see the head poking up through the dimple at the top of her ass and leaking precome all over. Michelle arches her back so as to make a tremendous display of her breasts for Andy, who wasted no time in reaching around her tits and starts to squeeze a nipple, when she reachs up and grabs his hand, not moving it, but says to him from his shoulder, "Is that part of my massage?"

"Well, yeah."

"Oh, Okay then!" she smiled big and squirmed up against him harder, rolling her right tit across his hand, which she'd left gently pinching her nipple. Michelle rolled her eyes sultrily over my way for a moment, nuzzling the back of her neck against Andy's collarbone as he fondled her breasts expertly.

"Aaron, are you doing alright over there?" I gazed dumbfounded for half a sec before she lost herself for a second in pleasure, then opened her eyes up again to look dreamily into mine, as Andy tongued her neck and ear.

"I'm fine... I love you, Michelle,"

"ummmmm...... ohhhhhh Andy," she said langorously, " She said. Andy kissed her on the mouth, her neck craned around to accommodate his mouth while she reaches down behind her and pulled on his large cock.

Michelle reached back to me and grabbed my hand as she lifted out of the water and turned to face Andy. 

She looks back at me, kind of in total shock and watching the whole spectacle with my dick firmly in hand. I am a little embarrassed, but really turned on to see my baby, my love, being this surfer dude's slut. She kind of starts to look apologetic, and then thinks better of it, looks down at my fist stroking my own cock, and shrugs, then turns back to Andy and his cock, pulling her hand off his cock for only a second to spit in her palm before returning her attention to his pole. He has his hands in her hair, mussing it up as he massages her scalp, bringing her head further and further into his groin.

One of Michelle's hands is in the water, furiously rubbing her cunt, the other is savagely jacking off Andy, as she finally ceases resistance and lets him pull her face softly against his cock. She moves the circle of her thumb and forefinger down to hold the base as she eagerly fills her mouth with his cock, at least to the extent she is able. He basically just holds on to her head as she chokes herself on the meat again and again, taking a breath at one moment and pumping with her hand again a while, looking up at the night sky to say, with a wondrous smile of discovery on her mouth, "I can't believe how much I love your cock!" 

She looks back to me again, says, "Aaron, this is the biggest cock I have ever had in my life! It's even bigger than Frank's last night! You have no idea how much I love you,"

But she's cut off as he pulls her mouth back onto his member, words cutting off in a gag, and raising a finger back to me, as if to indicate that she would be back in a minute... It was actually kind of cute, I thought. Her ass raised up in the air as she came to her knees in the pool, breasts standing proudly and nipples engorged like erasertips. She holds his dick in her right hand still, and pulls him closer where she is kneeling, so she can smack his dick against her breasts for everyone to see.

Andy's friends had stood somewhat quietly by for a moment, as if a little surprised at how this all panned out, but now they were stroking their cocks proudly, and she was stealing glances at theirs as she played with Andy's.

She adjusts herself to stand up all the way, and mashes her breasts into Andy's face lazily, while his crooked finger quickly finds its way up her water-slick thighs to rub and plunge into her pussy. Her posture kind of tightened like it does when I'm banging her, I thought. Her pretty ass swayed as Andy devoured her and she flirted with his friends, "You know guys, I have two more hands here..."

So it was that they closed in from either side and testingly groped open spots on her body, in answer to which she reached out and grabbed each of their dicks in either hand and started stroking absently as she reveled in the pleasure from their explorations and as well the focused attention from Andy's fingers inside her, and his mouth sucking and licking her swollen breasts and nipples.

"Aaron," she said, "...I'm not sure how to say this, or what it means..." she looked at me as she lowered her slick body down to straddle Andy, who started playing with her tits and groping her luscious ass, she looked at me and smiled naughtily as she ground against Andy, reaching down and grabbing his meat to rub it against her engorged pussy lips, "but I've never felt so hungry ...for COCK." She ground her cunt against his dick, hard, then looked at me. "Thank you, baby. Thank you for letting me experience this."

"I love you."

"Tell me," she said.

"What?" I knew what she wanted me to say.

"Tell me what to do."

I breathed out heavy. I wasn't sure what to do. I knew I wanted to see her do it, but I felt like I wasn't a man, wanting to give my woman over to the pleasure of someone else's body. But I did want to. Again. 

"Ummmm..." 

I guess, she'd already had the guy last night in her mouth. Drank his come. It was obvious this was probably going to happen whether I wanted it to or not. But the truth was, I wanted it to happen. I wanted to see my girl give herself up as a sex object. I wanted her to fuck this stud like an animal. I wanted to observe her passion. "Put his cock in your pussy, baby." She squinted her eyes and licked her lips. "I want to see you fuck him."

"Well okay, baby but I think there's one problem," she said as she lifted up slightly to settle her pussy down on the head his cock, "OOOOOoooooooohhhhhh" she moaned. "I just don't know if Andy alone will be enough. Andy," she said.

"Yeah," he answered, twitching his hips to diddle his cockhead between my girlfriend's pussy lips.

"Will your friends fuck me after you have?" she asked politely.

"Fine with me —Josh? Rich?" he said, and they beamed. 

Josh was shorter than Andy, and had a shorter, albeit thick cock. Rich was tall and muscular, and had an uncircumcised one just a little bigger than Josh's.

"Baby is it okay if I let all three of them fuck me? Since we're camping at the hot springs and it's a special occasion and everything?"

"Yeah," I said, chokingly. "Fine." I pulled out my cock, totally stone hard and oozing with precum.

She puckers her thick lips and blows out as she settles down on Andy's giant shaft, exclaiming with pleasure as she gradually lowered herself onto him, expanding her beautiful pussy every step.

She tried really hard to jack Josh and Rich off while she fucked Andy, but once she got a rhythm going, lifting her hungry little beaver up and settling it down again to rub her groin against his, rooted against his pole as she was —she was well and distracted from anything but that dick inside her.

Josh and Rich play with her tits and fondle other parts of her body as they take turns kissing her.

"Oh, god —Oh, fuck—" Michelle was beginning to be carried away on the sensations of lust and wantonness she was exploring. Her hands clumsily jacked Josh and Rich's cocks, occasionally spitting into a palm, as her body danced its convulsing rhythm against Andy's lithe, muscled body.

Eventually Michelle started licking and kissing Rich's cock as her hips heaved against Andy's cock behind her.

"I'm going to come," Andy said.

"Come on my tits, Andy," Michelle asked him after spitting Rich's hefty meat out of her mouth.

She turned and presented herself for him as he jerked a couple times, finally letting a few thick arcs fly to land across her swollen and excited breasts. The stringy white fluid sat against her fair skin, as if a cream waiting to be rubbed in to soothe the love bites and squeeze marks already evident on her tits from the boys here, as well as probably Frank, yesterday.

Andy stood there with his fucking perfect cock sticking out, slick with come and Michelle's juices —He really did have a perfectly sculpted body, I had to admit.

Michelle looked at me, "Aaron, honey, do you wanna clean me off?"

"I..." I stammered. I kind of did, but I didn't want these young guys to think less of me.

They laughed at me, anyway.

"Come on, baby – they won't want to suck my tits anymore if there's come on them. Don't you want to be a part of the experience?"

I trudged over to Michelle, opened my mouth and brought my tongue to scoop up a big glob of Andy's semen that had clung across her engorged nipple. I licked and slurped the majority of it off of her beautiful breasts.

"Good boy" she cooed, and I saw Rich moving in behind her and playing with her ass a little. 

Just then another couple around our age entered the general area, and saw what was taking place, as Rich lifted Michelle's ass up to accommodate the height his cock was at.

Michelle's lower body now floated against Rich as he held her by the waist in the hot pool, sawing his fat dick against her little bare cameltoe. I watched the shining flesh of his well-shaped member rub again and again against the sweaty and taught flesh of her inner thighs as it drove itself skimming along the rest of her crevasse. Back and forth, like that, just testing the feel and fit of his cock in the valley of my wife's ass, testing the responsiveness of her pussy as he nudged it back and forth against her folds. Her upper half was resting in Josh's lap, her large hanging breasts knocking into Josh's erection again and again, smiling up at him as she played like that. 

We all heard the woman from the other couple as they disrobed nearby.

"We aren't into joining you guys, but can we watch and play over here?"

"Please do," My baby said, licking her lips at the new man's cock as she lowered herself further to be able suck Josh's dick a little.




My Michelle Ch. 02



She looked up at me, smiling but with a slight question in her smoldering green eyes, like 'is this still cool?'

"I can't believe how fucking hot you look right now, Michelle."

She took Josh's cock in her hand and smacked it against her face, her tits, smiling at me and at the other couple. 

Andy was just watching now —sitting on the rocky edge of the pool with his cock in hand; smiling at the woman of the new couple. She seemed to appreciate him, too, as she touched her pussy when she smiled back at him.

Michelle said, "Oh" and I looked down to see Rich working his meat into her eager, responsive cunt.

I think if I were an alien that breeded human beings for an intergalactic zoo, I would consider Rich and Michelle to be a perfect set of specimens. His large, strong and defined frame looked like it belonged with hers, as he pulled her firm and voluptuous ass against his savagely thrusting hips, again and again. 

She grabbed the rocks around her, Josh's thigh —clinging and collapsing her head to devote her attention completely to the sensation of Rich's relentless pistoning frame, owning Michelle's womanly ass in front of us all.

"Oh god you are such a fucking man fuck oh god oh oh OH OH OOOHHHHHH!!!! FUCK!!!! Baby, oh—"

Michelle lets loose and squirts all over Rich, who just keeps on pounding her snatch with relentless fury.

"Baby... You've never—"

Michelle cranes her head around to kiss Rich.

"Nobody's ever made me do that before, you fucking stud." Rich pushes her back down and resumes fucking her.

Andy's already getting another blowjob by the girl of the couple watching. Her man strokes her back as she bobs up and down on his organ.

Michelle is so lost in the feeling of Rich's ramming thrusts Josh ends up jerking as he watches her, which is what I was doing, too.

Rich starts grunting, grips Michelle's ass up against his pelvis and lets loose with this monstrous roar as he shoots his furious seed into my Michelle. Her eyebrows contort in painful pleasure, as her last orgasmic shudders subside on the surging tube of meat that Rich has dug all the way up inside her.

"Oh, god," Michelle said, as she looks sleepily up.

"I love you," I said as Josh sprays a long stream of come across Michelle's beautiful, sweaty face. And another one, before she grabs his dick and sucks the rest out, smiling up at me as she finally lets Josh's dick out with a 'smack' of her lips.

"Aaron, come here and give me a kiss," Michelle instructed me.

Rich was laughing at me. Josh was moving over to check out Andy's couple.

I waded over to Michelle and took her in my arms, kissing her tenderly, and gently tonguing out the semen that was still in her mouth. Then I started making out with her like it was our first date. I meant it —I loved this woman. 

Eventually I was licking the rest of Josh's come off of her face. I got it all off and kissed her again for a while. Nobody was looking, and Rich was still there, watching us. His dick had grown incredibly hard again. Michelle was looking at it, and then looked at me.

"Baby, do you want to clean Rich's cock off?"

"Me? You mean—?"

"Yeah, baby, do you maybe wanna suck his dick a little?"

I couldn't help but look at Rich's cock, it seemed to be straining to get out of its skin, it swelled so hard, and the veins were so strong.

Michelle grabbed Rich's member at the base, and wagged it toward me.

"Do you want to suck his cock?"

"No," I said. "No, babe."

"Please, honey? Aaron it's another fantasy of mine, to see you suck a big dick."

"Michelle, that's kind of asking a lot..."

"How? How is it any more than you asking me to suck someone's dick? Or to watch me get fucked?" She looked genuinely frustrated.

"Michelle, I —"

"What are you afraid of Aaron? You've been looking at their cocks go in and out of me for the last half hour —why don't you take a turn so your girlfriend can live out one of her fantasies?"

"Look, I didn't think you were serious at first —I thought you were fucking with me. No, honey. Not tonight, at least. I will need to think about this."

"You'll think about it?"

"Yes."

"Okay then if you won't suck Rich's dick I'm going to have him fuck my ass with it, sweetie."

"As long as I get to watch, baby..."

I didn't know this would be something I could have done more than once but being Michelle's cuckold is really fulfilling something in me. I'd been thinking about it for weeks, really, but something about the air tonight —the electric charge of sex and the freedom with which we were exploring it together— it made me lose a little reservation.

I got of the pool as Rich started filling Michelle's asshole up with spit, rubbing it all around the entrance with the helmet head of his big dick. 

I went to our bags and pulled a small package out, as I heard the sound of Michelle being assfucked. She sucked the boyfriend's dick of the new couple while Rich pounded her tight hole from behind. Her moans filled up the forest.

I jerked off as I watched Rich came in her ass, and the other guy came in her mouth —just moments away, actually. By then, everyone was just ready to go —they had a dusk restriction on the pool access at Cougar Hot Springs, so everyone had been getting ready while our last trio of the day was finishing up.

Everyone left as Michelle just laid there, face covered in another load of another man's cum. Cum leaking from her asshole.

I picked up the package I had. The one I'd been keeping around for some time now, waiting for the right moment.

I walked over to Michelle, kissed her on her closed eyelids, picking up a little more semen in my mouth for my trouble. She opened her beautiful eyes and looked at me. I leaned over her and kissed her tenderly.

"Are we going to be okay?" She asked.

"I'm always going to be okay, as long as I have you," I said.

"How could you say that after you just saw me used by all those men, Aaron?!"

"I don't know. I guess I don't believe that I own your body just because you love me. I guess I feel like I'm proud that my woman is so horny, and that other men want so badly to be with her. I guess I'm proud that you don't let shame and social stigma stop you from enjoying your sex in the way you like. I think you're fucking sexy as fuck and I love you, Michelle."

"Oh, Aaron," She reached out to me.

I dropped to my knees, bringing the small package up in one hand and opening it's lid in the other.

I smiled at Michelle. She still had streaks and smears of drying come on her face and tits.

"Michelle," I said, preparing —Michelle gasped, overwhelmed at the realization.

"Michelle, will you marry me?"

Michelle looked in my eyes with what can only be described as a look of wonder. She took the ring, pulled it out of the box. Put it on her ring finger, held it up and started crying.

"Oh, Aaron —Yes!"

I leaned over her and kissed her, and fucked her one last time at the hot springs this visit. I am going to have a real, bonafide hotwife, you guys!



My Michelle Ch. 03



After the weekend of a sexual lifetime fifteen miles up a side road in northern Mississippi, the real world was about to come screaming back with a vengeance. The alarm clock beeped at six thirty, and there was a lot of work to be done. I rolled out of bed, impacting on the floor with a crash as my bad knee didn't feel like cooperating. Michelle just moaned a bit and cuddled toward the spot in the bed I had vacated. 

I'd been in and out of uniform doing military and paramilitary stuff (everything from Desert Storm with a mobilized reserve component Special Forces battalion to bounty hunting) for years, so my brain was processing the problems facing us in an orderly fashion. First, Michelle had come out here in a t-shirt and shorts, and had added nothing to that on-hand wardrobe but most of a thousand bucks in lingerie and fetish wear. I had to get her back to the townhouse she shared with my ex-fiancee and get her prepped for her nine o'clock Marketing Administration class that she could not attend naked except for a leather collar and thigh-high stiletto heel stripper boots. I didn't have anything until German Lit at 10.

The second problem was implicit in the first. Michelle lived with my ex-fiancee Joan, who was Joe Pesci's character in Casino if Pesci had played the part as a D-cup redhead but with the same Yankee gangster accent. She had a temper that scared me, and I had a couple Stateside gunfights under my belt plus one unpleasant afternoon coping with the Iraqi Army way out on the coalition's left flank. Joan was better at precision rifle work than I was. Despite her WASP last name, most of her relatives had last names that ended in vowels, "family business" affiliations, and prison records. The fact I was now nailing her roommate, who had in fact pledged me her live-in slavery as a cheap form of cocaine rehab, was guaran-goddamn-teed to set her off. This would not only cut off a great source of crazy-girl ex-sex, but have her stalking me like a rabid timberwolf until she calmed down in six months. I couldn't calm her down faster than that without a tranquilizer gun.

Problem three wouldn't be an immediate issue, but Michelle's change of lifestyle included jilting a boyfriend, a regular coke dealer, and several other guys she'd fucked for drugs at one time or another. I took my physical security very seriously. I lived in a house I rented from one of the military history professors that was two miles from the nearest paved road and fifteen miles from town. It had been built by someone way more paranoid than I was, and had enough firepower in it to back off the Viet Cong. But no one knew where I lived, well, except Joan who'd house-sit now and again if I was out of town, and I liked it that way. Joan and I had enough of each other's secrets it all balanced out. I kept her secrets about being a very enthusiastic bondage slut and masochist, and what her family did for a living. In exchange, she kept the secrets of where I lived, some of what I did for money, and what guns were in some of the closets. But if I started filling his fifty acres of backwoods with deep-buried corpses, the General was likely to raise my rent. Michelle's former entourage was likely to cause me some heartburn from Day One. The weekend didn't count. This was Day One. 

"Michelle, wake up, dear. Time to get on with our lives."

*groan*

The "thwack" of a leather paddle across her firm ass was enough to jolt her fully awake very quickly. "Good morning, master!" she perkily chirped. She was not subtle with the "Want to fuck?" look on her face.

"No, dear, I don't think we have time to play right now, we need to get you back to town and ready for class." The disappointment was plain to see. I helped her to her feet, and we snuck in a restrained morning kiss. This was where the whole "responsibility of ownership" came in. If I didn't give a fuck about her and her well-being, we could stay there, fuck, and keep it up until both our grade point averages collapsed. Mine was shitty anyway. We shared a fast shower, even with the blow job she threw in, and we were out the door for town. 

I filled her in on my plan as I drove. We'd get her ready for class, and I'd drop her off outside the business school's building. I'd then pick her up after class, she'd drop me at class, and she'd keep packing bags for a longer stay while I was in German Lit before picking me up at 11. We could only hope that Joan would come straight from her long weekend in Memphis and go straight to the physics department like she usually did. 

After what amounted to an improvised operations order, Michelle threw in another question. "Sir, I have to ask. If you live way the hell up dirt roads, why do you drive a beat-up Chevy Cavalier? Shouldn't you have a truck or something with four wheel drive?"

"It's paid for. This is the same car I drove here in when I was a freshman and it was new. The front wheel drive handles the dirt roads most of the time. I've just never had the amount of money on hand I'd need to replace it properly. I don't want to finance a new one since college-years jobs don't pay that well and aren't that stable. Besides, I just rent that house until the General comes back here to Mississippi from teaching at the War College again. He's only gone for two years, and maybe after a couple more years of trying I will have actually graduated by then."

"We need my dad's Blazer. Every possible off-road option and it's never been further off road than the grass next to the driveway."

"I doubt he'd want to trade."

We pulled up the street to Michelle and Joan's place, and fuck, that teal blue Pontiac was there. I sighed. Michelle rested her hand on mine. "It's OK. Just drop me off here and I'll go in. It's not the first time I've done the Walk of Shame before an early morning class, and it's a lot better if Joan doesn't see you yet."

"Not the first time doing the Walk, huh?"

"Don't ask, and I won't tell, Master. We don't have time for details anyway. Just remember my blood is clean and my ass is now yours. Very much yours."

I knew there were minefields out there in what she left unspoken. I just fucking knew it. I just didn't care. Time to test for one though. "Michelle, you don't have a stash in there to fall off the wagon before class, do you?" No matter what, I'd figure thirty percent chance she was lying.

"No, sir. I never needed one. If I was in the mood for a line and didn't have any handy, I'd just call up some guy, usually Joe, and get some. It's a lot easier for hot chicks to be junkies, since we always have some form of currency with us." She sighed sadly. "You'll be back to pick me up for Marketing, right, sir?"

"Yep. I'll just stay out of sight until Joan pulls out, she'll have to be to Physics at eight and she'll probably be early for that."

"Good. Something tells me today is going to be rough." We kissed again, and she headed for her apartment. I just headed up another side road, cracked open another Mountain Dew, and pulled a battered copy of Jean Larteguy's "The Centurions" out of the glove compartment while I waited for the blue Pontiac to go away.

 Soon it passed by. One of Joan's weaknesses was that she sucked at counter-surveillance if she was feeling comfortable. She didn't have the automatic "eyes in the back of her head" thing. My car blended in with all the other bright red cars in Cambridge, Mississippi that morning, and she never noticed I was there. My watch told me it was 0745, so it was time to go check on Michelle. 

 I knocked at the door of the townhouse, shoving aside thoughts of everything that had gone on since I'd knocked on it Friday afternoon. I was too busy looking over my shoulder in case Joan forgot something or Joe was up early. Michelle quickly let me, jumping into my arms for a kiss. "How'd it go?"

 "She was in the shower when I came in. I just went into my room and closed the door, so I don't even if she noticed I wasn't here. My car was here and my door was shut the whole time as far as she saw."

 "Well, that's one thing not to worry about for now. If you get dressed fast enough we'll have time to grab breakfast before you have to get to class."

 She did, swapping her worn out gym clothes for the stylish look expected of the aristocratic set at Mississippi U., home of the Confederates. Me, I'd stopped giving a shit how I dressed for class around the time Michelle was a freshman (freshwoman?) and showed up to class in jeans, heavy metal band T-shirts, and either an old pair of jungle boots or cowboy boots. Breakfast was at one of the dozen drive-through establishments en route to campus. Me, I was busy doing math in my head to see if I could ditch German Lit. I did not think she needed to be alone at this point in our relationship, but as there were only nine people in that class and I was the only one with two reasonably fluent regional dialects of German, I'd be missed. 

 Not taking counsel of my fears, I dropped Michelle off to class, kissing again like a real live couple with actual emotional attachments. Having an hour to kill, I looped over to the video arcade at the Student Union to spend an hour of quality time with a couple first-person shooters. 

 Stuffing quarters gave me time to think while my unconscious dealt with target acquisition and trigger squeeze. I began ordering my own problems in sequence.

 Data point one, Michelle was a truly porn-star quality piece of ass, normally way the fuck out of my league. A subset point was that unlike a lot of hot girls, she was actually a really good fuck. Anecdotal evidence suggested a lot of hot chicks just sort of lay there, like they're doing you a favor by letting them fuck them and they put zero effort into it. Michelle didn't just look the porn star part, in the bedroom she acted it. Max effort at thrusting back, takes facial cumshots, initiates oral, vaginal, and anal, enthusiastic newcomer to bondage and light pain play. Wanting that combo plate from Sex Heaven was going to fuck up my perceptions. The only good thing was I was smart enough to know it would fuck me up, but I didn't know if I'd be smart enough to adjust my actions accordingly. Damn, she was a good fuck. 

 Data point two, she was quickly acting very attached. I was willing to consider her desperation genuine, but like most every other truly hot chick I had ever known, she was manipulative by nature, even at an unconscious level. Despite her confession that she didn't think she could manipulate me, she had to consider it a challenge. I was just a couple levels beyond the frat boys who'd stare at her tits all day but I was still a guy and I could therefore be manipulated by sex, the more and freakier the better. As noted in point one, she was giving it up like something out of one of the better porn films. She had to know the corrosive effect that would have on my willpower and morals. 

 Those points led to an unknown. I didn't know what she really wanted and what she was or was not prepared to do in order to achieve it. Our play was nowhere near up to a good interrogation scene, but it was something to think about a month or so out depending on how many of my questions remained unanswered then. 

My pile of quarters was down, and my watch alarm beeped. Time to go get her. 

 This was the part that made me nervous. I was trusting Michelle with my car for an hour. If Joan saw her, it was "My car's messed up and Dan picked me up, he's in class" since the physics building was less than a hundred yards across the east face of the library from the front porch of the business school. If she was out to fuck me over, I was opening the door wide already. There was a .45 in the glove box, a 9mm Glock next to the spare tire, a packed getaway backpack in the trunk, and three thousand in cash between the roof of the trunk and the speaker housing below the rear window. While she didn't know this, losing my battered but quite functional car would fucking suck.

 As we pulled up to the curb near Modern Languages' borrowed space, I looked over at her. "You know what's going to happen if you're not here when I get out of class, right?"

She thoughtfully chewed at her pouty bottom lip.

 "Um, I get chained up, whipped hard, and grudge-fucked in all three holes?"

 I grinned wickedly. "No, dear, if you're late I don't lay a finger on you and you get to go to bed early without so much as a vibrator for company."

 "Fuck, I guess I better be early then. My ass has gotten no real attention today, my pussy is lonely, and I at least blew Sir in the shower like a good little slut is supposed to." She grinned back.

 Despite my buried doubts, I had to smile at that. "Why did it take us so long to find each other?"

 She shrugged. "Neither of us was ready. You had Joan, I had my mistakes to make, and if not for that we wouldn't be the person the other needed."

 "You watch way too much Oprah."

She shrugged again. "Only thing on before Seinfeld, and Seinfeld is great when you're high. You ignore the lack of plot and the bad jokes." We kissed and I went in.

 Class dragged by. I was NOT in the mood for Goethe today. The only thing that got me through it was I had enough German in high school and my first few years of college, plus a deployment to Germany in the Guard, that I could sometimes actually think in the language instead of translating. I wondered what the German was for "nipple clamps then breast bondage". God knows the Germans liked their freaky leather bondage. 

 I bounced out of class the second the Herr Doktor looked like he was done, and my red Cavalier was sitting at the curb. She bounced out of the driver's seat and ran around to open my door. I wondered how she'd look in one of those tight black chauffeur's uniforms. Maybe a miniskirted version with heels and her ankle cuffs. Hmm. Not for rides to class of course, but maybe to the clubs in Etlanna sometime.

 I kissed her and patted her lightly on the ass before I seated her. She whispered "I missed you already, sir."

 Behind us, I heard an old familiar voice. "Hey, Michelle. Gone slumming for friends?"

Fuck. I turned, and answered for us. "Hi, Joe. How's business?"

 He was five eight, dark haired, with a face and voice that were vaguely ferretlike. "Oh, business is booming. You mind if I talk to my cutest client right there for a minute?"

 I affected a calm voice. "Yeah, Joe, I do mind." There was the momentary temptation to reach into the glove box, grab the .45, and put a pair of 230-grain Remington Golden Saber hollowpoints into his chest, following up with one to the head, but there were a couple thousand witnesses swirling in the crowds around us and we were a block from the campus police station. It would not have been subtle. But Michelle was looking very troubled, and that was triggering my very strong protective streak. I was already starting to promise myself that Joe was going to end up in a deep unmarked hole in the ground fairly soon. I didn't like coke dealers, I didn't like people who upset my girlfriends, and I didn't like him on general principles. Without a further word, I closed Michelle's door, got in, and drove off. 

  Michelle was fighting tears as we made the right turn around the wooded circle at the center of campus. I slid an arm around her and she cuddled as closely as the center console's arm rest would allow. I figured I'd let her work out whatever she had to work out without saying anything inane like "It'll be all right". 

I didn't have anything for the rest of the day. As a sixth-year student, third-time senior, I was only taking two classes that semester. Michelle was also done, most of hers being Tuesday/Thursday splits. That meant we got to deal with her emotional drama in the comfort of what was basically "our" home for a while. Man, that made us sound like way more of a couple that I thought we had any realistic chance of being. 

 We made it out the dirt roads to "home", saying little. I opened Michelle's door for her, and we walked up to the door. She turned and surveyed the lawn, surrounded by Mississippi forest. There probably wasn't another human being for a mile at least. She looked at me. "Sir, I think I am wearing way too many clothes for just us here. Get me inside and get me naked, please? Take my mind off things?"

 I slid an arm around her and tugged her hair from behind, softly kissing the side of her neck. "I don't know about naked, maybe it's a pretty lingerie kind of day...after all, live-in slave girls are the only form of Barbie it's acceptable for guys to play with." It was awfully hard manipulating all the locks to get back into the house while we were hotly making out, but somehow I managed it. Stumbling over each other into the foyer, we disentangled a bit. "Michelle, hold still. I'm going to take off your clothes for you."

  "Mmm, yes, sir." She spread her legs widely and posed flirtatiously as I unbuttoned her blouse and slid it off, then unzipped her knee-length maroon skirt. No panties. "Went commando today, dear?"

  "All my pretty new panties were out here, and I didn't think any of the ones at the townhouse were slutty enough to fit my mood. I needed a little black leather thong or something, so I just skipped it. I think the bra's not too bad, though." It was a decent Victoria's Secret black satin, a slightly daring choice with the tasteful cream-colored blouse. I unhooked it, gently biting either nipple as they were uncovered. They were already rock-hard. A slight shudder told me she was into the idea of having them played with, so I bit again, a bit harder, tugging a bit before I released them. She arched and sighed as I did. "I think those would look even more perfect with some small piercings."

 "Please, sir, let's work up to the body modification. Needles terrify me. I only have one hole per ear even." She kicked off her sensible flats and knelt. "Sir, can I have my collar back- oh, wait, I have to jump in the shower first."

 "Sure, no problem." She scurried off to the bathroom as I went to the bedroom to change clothes. I grabbed a pair of cutoff jungle fatigues and kept the baggy black T-shirt I had on. I just didn't want to deal with jeans and zippers around the hard-on I was already getting at the thought of fucking her again. Fatigues have nice safe buttons.

  Fifteen minutes later, I was still hearing the water running. And when it stopped, there was the hair dryer, and then other girly-type noises. 

  But the result was worth it. Michelle obviously felt the need to turn up the hair and makeup back to porn-star standards. Her hair was teased and sprayed Just So, her lips shone with a fresh layer of Cocksucking Red, her eyelashes, everything. She looked like she belonged in Penthouse. She was certainly dressed for it. Her collar with chain leash and her stiletto heels were her only wardrobe at the moment. 

  "I've been thinking. Maybe I don't want to be owned." She stared back at me, but couldn't hold off a mischievous grin. She winked. 

"Really. Well, if you don't want to be owned, maybe you'll just get stolen." Like Michelle would be dumping me if her collar was still on and she was standing there naked except for the shoes. I've been dumped enough times to recognize it when it actually happens. No one who ever dumped me put that much effort into the hair first. And she was fucking winking. An actress she wasn't.

  "Stolen?"

  "Yeah, kind of like this." I could describe how to easily trap her wrist, flip her facedown on the bed, and have a pair of Peerless steel cuffs out from underneath the pillow and around her wrists, but unless you've got the right martial arts background you'd just break your date's arm if you tried it. I then pulled the matching ankle shackles out from under the bed, secured her ankles, threaded a small snaplink through both chains, and locked her facedown on the bed with wrists and ankles all secured together in a perfect steel reverse hogtie. "Now since I've stolen you, the only question is what to do with you."




My Michelle Ch. 04



The author waives all liability for any technique described herein even more so than usual. Weak stomachs please bail out here. 

****************

Things had been going amazingly with Michelle. The one problem was we just seemed to keep bumping into my former neighbor and her former cocaine dealer Joe. Every time we ran into him on campus, which our class schedules made nearly inevitable, Michelle got depressed and shaky, which did not do wonders for her state of mind. She would come out of the depressions fairly quickly, but I had finally made the very coldblooded decision that Joe really wasn't very much use to me alive.

The preparations to dispose of him were fairly simple for someone with the proper training and background. I admit this would be my first solo job on American soil, but one does what one must. I picked a random weeknight, one where Michelle had an extra load of studying to do. Everything was in place, and an ongoing reconnaissance program had proven the target would probably be there. If not, I'd try again later. 

I kissed Michelle goodbye at the front door like normal people do. "Remember to lock the doors, honey, and if anyone tries coming in, feel free to shoot them. Unless it's me of course."

"Are you sure I can't go with you?"

"Michelle, I'm just going to go run a few errands and grab some groceries, and if I have you along it will spoil any surprise presents I get for you." We kissed again.

"All right, sir, I promise I'll be good and I'll be waiting for you."

"That's what I wanted to hear. See ya soon." She and I still didn't say "I love you" since the weirdness of our master/slave, rehabber/rehabee relationship was precluding much hope of real emotional love so far. It was not what any normal person would have considered healthy, but I fell off the normal train about 1979.

I didn't just have my usual .45 with me tonight. Tonight I'd pulled a genuine relic out of storage. I was carrying a .22 High Standard target pistol modified with a 1944 Bell Labs sound suppressor assembly, what most people think of as a "silencer". It had fallen off the Army inventory at the end of WWII when the Office of Strategic Services deactivated, and came into my hands when a dying old man passed it on. I had known him for a few years. He knew I walked the same path he did, and he hadn't wanted his grandchildren to know the sins of his past. Some of those sins had been weighing heavily on his mind as the cancer got worse. They got his medals and some stories. I had the High Standard, some other very illegal tools and toys, and an education in advanced homicide. I also carried an electric stun gun, one of the early ones. 

My Cavalier had been outfitted for the night's work while Michelle was taking a nap. The trunk was double-layered in heavy black plastic sheeting. There were two other license plates in the trunk, both acquired around campus out of trash cans, and both were redone with the best home-made hand-painted registration stickers I could do. A couple layers of heavy clear packing tape would give the fake "sticker" a realistic glossy look in the dark. I'd been saving them for a rainy day. Both were fitted with magnets and would slap on or off in a pinch. My old Papa John's Pizza delivery shirt was in the car, along with a pizza delivery bag I'd saved when I quit the year before. Neither design was obsolete yet. And the lack of a car-top sign was no big deal. Most of the delivery drivers in Cambridge skipped them. You only got paid a quarter extra per run to have the sign on your car, but it was a neon sign for the cops so the added attention didn't pay off. And by my last count, there were 17 red Cavaliers, 1991-1993, on campus. Ideally I'd have a sterile car for this job, but I didn't have the budget of the CIA or the Mafia. Assumption of some risk. 

The target lived in an out of the way area off the Cambridge cops' patrol routes, and was very close to the road I would be taking into the heart of the adjoining National Forest off Highway 30. The idea was to get clear of town without seeing anything with a blue light on it. 

I pulled over in the dark and changed shirts. My faded black Pink Floyd shirt went in the glove compartment. I was now a Papa John's delivery driver again on a very temporary basis. 

Pulling over again much closer to Joe's house, I executed the license plate swap. The magnets slapped the Alabama tag on neatly and removed the front tag. Alabama only uses rear ones. The cordless electric drill with a screwdriver bit had the front plate off, including the bracket, in forty seconds. The screws went into the ashtray and the plate went under the passenger seat. 

I stopped a little up the block from Joe's. I took an old pair of 7x50 artillery spotter's binoculars from under the passenger seat and eyeballed the house. No other cars were there, and only one light was on. I was having to cut it short on the surveillance. I didn't like this, but I was trying to keep this whole operation totally secret from everyone for obvious reasons, including Michelle. And it's hard to have an intelligent, perceptive woman in your house and not have her notice the preparations for a very thoroughly premeditated murder. I knew she'd be happier knowing Joe was gone, but I didn't want her knowing how he'd gone. Several cold-case homicides a year are solved when ex-wives or old girlfriends talk, and I never wanted to be in that position. I trusted Michelle to a point, but why take chances? 

I got out of the car, opened the trunk, and then pushed it back down until it almost latched. The trunk light burned out years before, so there was no telltale gleam. 

Pulled the hat down way over my face and using a gloved left hand, I unscrewed the porch light bulb just until it went out. I then kept that gloved hand under the pizza bag which had a nice piece of 3/4" plywood in it to give it shape. It would also make a dandy impact weapon in a pinch if the two pistols and the stun gun failed me. The High Standard and the stun gun were on tape loops on the plywood, while the Colt was under my shirt. I elbowed the doorbell. Again, I was happy there was no storm door in the way. 

"Who is it!" I heard from inside. Joe's voice.

"Pizza!"

He opened the door. "I didn't order any-wha?" but it was too late. I drew the stun gun and tagged him in the neck. I threw the stunner back in the pizza bag, and slid my arm around him. In the dark, I looked to anyone watching like a guy helping a drunk buddy. Yeah, I helped him right into the trunk where some half-inch wide 36" cable ties quickly hogtied him. I duct-taped his mouth shut, and slammed the trunk. I could return and burgle his house at my leisure later. 

I jumped in, fired up the car, and headed for the National Forest. I'd had a hole waiting for a while. It predated Michelle's arrival in my life, going back to my original feud with Joe. It was a "just in case" measure I'd learned from another old gentleman with an Italian last name. Ten feet deep, three wide, and six long. It had taken me a couple weekends of digging, and it was covered by more plywood and a thin layer of dirt and leaves. 

The rest of the dirt was scattered around conveniently, along with six fifty pound bags of quicklime wrapped in plastic. There was a neat trick I learned years later with a stepped hole, a plastic liner, and gallons of industrial drain cleaner, but you never know what you don't know. Quicklime alone was hard to get. The Mafia had used it to dispose of inconvenient corpses for years to the point it was generally restricted. This stuff I'd gotten off the loading dock at the Southaven sewage treatment plant.  

Before exiting the car, I put the sort of Tyvek shoe covers worn by house painters on over my jungle boots. The boots were a worn-out pair due to be resoled. The shoe shop in town had done several pairs for me over the years and would see nothing unusual in this even if asked about it. But no fresh National Forest dirt would go home with me tonight. I pulled on another pair of heavy household rubber gloves. 

I pulled a steel folding chair out of the back seat, and pulled Joe out of the trunk. More zip-ties quickly secured him to the chair. I then pulled the duct tape off his mouth.

"All right, Joe, we're going to do this fast and accurately. Where are you keeping your cash these days?"

"Aw, fuck you man, you're just fucking nuts over 'Chelle's pussy. She ever tell you how many times she fucked me for some coke?"

I decided I was going to have to take a bit more time with the morality lesson than I intended. Punching him in the side of the throat to keep him quiet and cooperative, he gasped for breath as I pulled the same roll of two-inch green mil-spec duck tape out of the trunk. I wrapped it around his mouth four times. Looping twice more around the top of his head and under his jaw locked the whole mess shut. He was about to scream loudly enough with enough jaw extension that just tape-gagging him the conventional way across his mouth wouldn't work. I'd just have to cut it quickly if he puked, otherwise he'd drown in it like Jimi Hendrix or Bon Scott. I didn't need him dead yet. 

I then pulled an eight-pound sledgehammer out of the back seat. "Joe, this is your last chance to start talking to me before I fuck you up so badly you're walking funny for the rest of your short-ass life." I still read a mixture of defiance and disbelief behind his eyes. Too bad for him. 

An eight-pounder is not the heaviest sledgehammer they make. You can find 12 and 16 pound varieties in your average hardware store. But as a longtime winner of the ring-the-bell-with-the-hammer games at various Renaissance Festivals and carnivals with the skill I picked up working construction, I prefer a lighter hammer for control and velocity. That control was essential as the hammer whipped through a controlled arc and landed directly atop the arch of his left foot. It was safe to say he fairly exploded in agony. Tears burst, he convulsed all over, and I was right. If it hadn't been for the extra loops of tape, his muffled scream would have escaped the gag. "Joe, it never pays to anger a man who might well just beat you to death with a hammer before this night is done. If you tell me what I want to know, and the data checks out, then I'll even drop you off at the hospital myself and we'll say you fucked up your foot changing a tire. So leave Michelle out of the conversation. She's mine."

He frantically nodded.

"Think about this for a minute."

I walked off, out of his field of view. I sipped my Mountain Dew, fifth of the day, and thought about it. I was taught never to trust anything you get before three good shots of the hammer, but Sergeant Major was used to dealing with the Viet Cong, the Pathet Lao, and the Sandanistas of Nicaragua. Those fellows would die for a cause. Joe was a two-bit rich suburban kid who wanted more cash than Mom and Dad would give him, more pussy than his looks and personality deserved, and figured dealing coke was the way to do it. He'd break quickly.

I walked back over into his view. "Now, as yours is a cash profession, you accumulate a lot of it before you go to your wholesale supplier and buy more product, correct? He nodded. "Do you keep it in multiple places?" Nod. "Three?" A shake of the head. "Two?" Nod. "Unprofessional, Joe. Multiple cache sites are key to maintaining operational security and redundancy." He had no idea what I was talking about, but a firmly delivered, calmly phrased monologue reinforced his lack of control here. "Now where would I find this money of yours? I'll take a guess and say most of it is in your house, and maybe some hidden elsewhere, like a safe deposit box." He nodded again, a frantic look in his eyes.

I actually knew about the safe deposit box. He talked too loudly in the days when he and I had apartments that shared a wall. It was a damn shame I couldn't get the safe deposit box money, but I certainly couldn't take Joe to the bank and pick it up. The box was right on the Square in downtown Cambridge across the street from City Hall, and Joe was never leaving these woods alive even if he was too naive to know it. Ripping off his house was enough of a risk. But eventually the box rent would be unpaid and the bank would probably skim the money for themselves. 

"Joe, your next problem is that I don't believe you." I picked up the hammer again. "Maybe if I bust your knee...." I made a great show of thinking about it. While his eyes were watching the hammer, I then stomped down on his shattered foot with a boot heel. Again, he exploded with the agony of it. It was great misdirection. I was proud of myself for coming up with that one.

"Now Joe, I'm going to hit you with this thing one more time, just because you piss me off." I walked around him a couple times. His forearms were tight against the steel chair, hmmm, might not break the bone but I knew it would hurt like hell. With me behind him, he was trying to look back over his shoulder to see what was coming. Too late. I wound up and swung, catching his right forearm with the hammer. The impact almost knocked him over onto his face. There was a lot more muffled screaming and sobbing. I then gave the forearm a good shake. Yep, it was broken all right. 

I walked back in front of him. "All right, Joe, I'm going to cut the tape, and you're going to answer a few questions. There's no one out here but us, some meth cookers, and deer poachers, and they won't care if you scream. Just in case, if you do scream..." I went over to the hole and pulled the last piece of plywood back, "I have a nice unmarked grave here with your name in it. If you do anything to draw attention to our little chat, I can have you dead and into that hole long before help arrives, and still have a pretty fair chance of getting out of here down the logging road." 

The look in his eyes was no longer one of defiance, but instead one of absolute defeat. I peeled back the tape. He sat without a word. "All right, now where is the money, and how much are you holding?"

He spit blood from where he'd bitten his tongue. None landed on me. I made a great show of scooping up that contaminated spot with the shovel and throwing that dirt down in the hole. 

"Dave, man, you don't have to do this-"

"Joe, I'll tape your mouth back up and break both your fucking legs in the next two minutes if you don't shut the fuck up and tell me what I want to know. Now, what's in your house and what's in your bank box?"

"I can't believe you're going to kill me over a piece of ass."

"I'm going to kill you because you're pissing me the fuck off." I picked up the tape and peeled the end off the roll. That was all it took.

"The cash is in my house. I only have ten grand in the box, that was my emergency stash. The bank's never open when I need it to be."

"Anything else in the box?"

"Just a pistol."

"That lousy Ruger 9mm you bought that time?"

"Yeah."

"Forget it, I'll pass. They're a revolver company. Their semis suck". Fifteen years later they still haven't made one to my taste. I digress. "How much is cash in the house?"

"I'm saving up for a five-key deal and a new car."

"Numbers, Joe." 

"Probably a hundred and fifty thousand. Fucking take it, man. Look, I know people you can get rich working for doing what you do. Fuck, I can make you rich. This is the perfect audition for a hitman. Just don't kill me."

Right. Joe was buying his cut product from another suburban Scarface wannabe up at Memphis State. I was working a target folder on him a few months back, just to stay in practice. He was probably the one buying it from the Bloods or Crips or someone with the infrastructure to move real weight from the point of importation down to the city level. I couldn't figure why Joe would want to go for five keys, he didn't go through that much product. Eleven pounds of cut cocaine, jeez. That was enough to last Sorority Row for most of the semester. Maybe he was promised a volume discount. But I didn't see anyone in his chain who was set up to make me rich as a professional "mechanic", let alone him, and I had Michelle to worry about now. I wasn't killing Joe because he was a drug dealer, I was killing him because he was a negative influence on my....possession? Girlfriend? Anyway, Michelle would not be getting much better as long as she had Joe's shadow around. Better to make him disappear for her sake. The money was incidental. Nice, but incidental. If he was telling the truth about what he was holding, it would make a nice reserve with which to start my post-college life without having to work bail bonds, deliver pizza, bounce bars, go back in the Army, or do other sleazy semi-violent jobs to make ends meet. Believe it or not, I really didn't enjoy doing shit like this. I just happened to be good at it. 

"Joe, I would say it wasn't personal, but it wasn't business either. You you're your problems my problems, and you're such an unlikeable shit you made it personal for Michelle's sake." With that, there was nothing else to say. I shoved the High Standard into the hollow behind his ear and fired two subsonic rounds up into the brain pan. Both made less noise than fingers snapping, and neither exited the skull. The 40-grain soft lead projectiles, as planned, just whizzed around inside the skull causing instant death via brain trauma. Neither would be in any shape to give a ballistic trace even if Joe was ever found under ten feet of north Mississippi dirt. 

I cut off all the cable ties and threw them in the bottom of the hole. The two shell casings went in the hole. Then Joe went in the hole. I busted him in the mouth with the hammer to confuse the dental work a little just for extra piece of mind. The three hundred pounds of quicklime covered the body and would start dissolving the flesh soon enough. A five gallon water jug from the back seat of the car gave the reaction a nice chemical kick-start. 

All the plastic wrapping from the trunk of the car went in the hole. The steel folding chair was wiped down with an ammonia-soaked rag to mess up fingerprint oils or blood traces and went in the back seat. It would be sanded and repainted at earliest opportunity, then mixed in with the three hundred or so identical chairs in the music building's back room where I'd borrowed it. The Papa John's hat, shirt, and pizza bag went in the hole. So did the Alabama license plate. A Missouri plate went on in its place. I wouldn't uncover my normal one until I was safe in the driveway. Joe's wallet would be left in a bar bathroom in Memphis minus the cash to misdirect anyone looking for him. Meanwhile I'd leave it in a plastic bag out here in the woods. I sure as hell wouldn't keep it near me. His car keys would go into the Tallahatchie River, a detour on the way home. Yes, it's that same bridge Billie Jo McAlister supposedly jumped off in that old song.

A fair bit of shovel work later, it was time to carefully restore the clutter of the forest floor. I'd check it again later in daylight, as this road did lead to a clearing the ROTC battalion once used for a helicopter landing zone. I'd call it a picnic or hike if I was ever seen. Hell, I suspected some hippies from campus had a marijuana patch out here someplace near the cadets' land navigation course. 

Before I swung my legs into the car, the Tyvek painter's booties went into a McDonald's bag. The bag would go into a public dumpster on the side of the highway. The boots would go to the shoe shop to be resoled tomorrow. 

I fired up the car and drove back down the old logging road to the highway, and drove back toward town. The bag went in the dumpster as planned. 

I pulled up and parked half a block away again. The porch light was still out. I quickly entered, and began a slow methodical search of the house. A fresh pair of rubber gloves kept me from fingerprinting anything. I was a year or two from having to worry about leaving a stray hair. Cambridge didn't have that sort of CSI equipment or resources anyway, and it was known I'd been to Joe's house socially in happier times. 




My Michelle Ch. 04



There were a couple full boxes of pistol ammo in the living room. Sure, why not. It was cheaper this way than Wal-Mart or National Pawn on North Lucius Street. 

The coke was in the kitchen cabinet, already in vials and baggies. While cocaine, like oil, gold, diamonds, and so on, is a transportable and fungible commodity, I didn't have the connections to get rid of it at a profit. Besides, if the cops finally did search the place in response to a missing persons' report, finding a bunch of cocaine in the missing guy's house makes the victim less sympathetic to the cops and they start looking for criminal associates, not disgruntled former neighbors.

Tossing his bedroom netted me two large dresser drawers full of twenties and hundreds. I mean fucking full. I grabbed a couple trash bags from under the kitchen sink, made a double bag arrangement, and filled it. He'd been a busy little shit. I wondered how many kids were fucking up their lives for Joe to have this kind of cash, but I didn't bother to linger on the subject. It was a free country, or at least it used to be. If someone wanted to Just Say Yes, I didn't care. As I said, I was only concerned with one of his former clients. I'd count it later. I somehow doubted the $150,000 number, but I had worked in a casino once and knew cash could be deceptive in volume. I left within five minutes, walking up the street to the same shadowed spot where I'd parked before.

I put the big trash bag of cash in the trunk, peeled off the gloves, and drove home. I fixed the front license plate and put the Missouri one in the garage. It would end up at the bottom of a pond before the week was up. The gloves went in the back patio fireplace and burned in seconds. 

When I went into the living room, Michelle was curled up on the couch with a Marketing Admin textbook, sound asleep under an old camouflage blanket. I returned the High Standard to its hiding spot, one gun among dozens in the house, and went over to kiss her. 

"Let's go to bed, sweetheart."

"Where were you?" she asked sleepily as she stretched and hugged me. 

It was cliché, but I answered "Taking care of some garbage."

Tomorrow would be another day.

*********

Author's note. I did know one of the campus drug dealers. I never killed him. As far as I know, he's still breathing fourteen years later. 



My Michelle Ch. 05



Author's Note: Chapters 5, 6, and 7 were completed by summer. I'd like to thank the baggage apes at Washington Dulles International Airport who destroyed my external hard drive. That's two drives in two years. Finding the mental energy to reconstruct all that lost work has been hard to do. 

***********

It had been a week since that night I left Joe's body in a deep, deep hole in the north Mississippi woods. So far Michelle hadn't noticed the fact we hadn't run into him on campus in the last few days. I was sincerely hoping she wouldn't notice that until after graduation. If this odd little arrangement of ours collapsed, I didn't want her then developing a conscience and going to the cops with her suspicions regarding what happened. But we were coming up on four weeks "together" this Friday. Things were going so well I was secretly terrified. 

Now it was a quiet Wednesday night. Michelle was nose-deep in another text for her Marketing Admin classes, while I was reading another WWII history that had nothing to do with either of the two classes I was taking. Except for the fact Michelle was studying naked except for a black leather collar, and I'd never bothered refastening my pants after she'd decided to refer to an after-dinner blow job as "dessert", we looked like a perfectly ordinary college-years couple. There was nothing to indicate that a week ago tonight I'd committed a very premeditated murder for her sake, and she had no idea I'd done it or had $143,000 in two garbage bags in the garage from it. There'd been a couple hundred above and beyond that, but that was spent at the grocery store. Life goes on, you know. 

The phone rang, interrupting my thoughts. "Hello."

"Dave, do you know where Michelle is?" Fuck, it was Joan. 

"Actually she's right here. I'm helping her with some computer graphing for a class project. It's got to be PowerPoint '97, and you only have a Mac. Besides, you know she's not great with computers anyway." Michelle looked up and stifled a giggle.

"Uh-huh. Because she hasn't been home a lot lately, her car's usually here, and her ex-boyfriend down in Starkville is wearing out my answering machine looking for her."

"Well, I can tell you where she is right now, but I haven't paid much attention to where she's been for the last few weeks. I've given her a couple rides, something about her Lexus needing to go to the dealer in Memphis when she gets a chance." I wasn't going to go dragging a fifty thousand dollar red Lexus coupe up and down these roads. 

Michelle took that opportunity to whisper in my other ear. "Oh, you've given me a lot of rides, and not just in your car. And do I need to refresh Sir's memory on all the places or positions I have been in the last few weeks? Bent over the edge of the hot tub? Doggy style on this living room floor? And when I leaned my head back over the edge of the bed just so I could more easily deepthroat that last inch of your big hard cock?"

I bit my tongue so hard to keep from laughing I think I tasted blood. 

"Dave, seriously, if you want to fuck that cokehead skank, that's your business. Contrary to what you may think to flatter yourself, I don't care. But you should know her better than to trust her. If you do fuck her, wear a condom, because the next time we hook up I don't want anything of hers." 

"OK, I got it, Joan. Point taken."

"Bye." Click. 

Well, that went remarkably calmly, all things considered. Joan was not often so polite. 

Michelle looked at me. "Sir, have you ever had a threesome?"

"Actually no. Any particular reason you ask?"

"One of these days when I get better at this, we're going to have a threesome, and it's going to be with Joan. I am going to tie her down and do her while you watch. I'm going to do her hard. She's a fucking bitch, I am sick of her shit, and I think it would be really fucking hot to hurt her. Begging and tears would be nice. Then you're going to fuck me in front of her, and I am going to cum my fucking brains out again and again. She whined to move in with me when you two broke up, it's still my name on the lease, and she now acts like she was doing me a favor by living there just because she cooks sometimes. She can pretend she's not a masochistic little tramp by being an asshole to everyone, but I know her secret now. And of course I'm a masochistic little tramp, but I'll be much nicer to you so I think that should keep me on the totem pole above her. I'm bitchy and competitive like that. "

"OK, now THAT sounds fucking hot. Maybe for our one year anniversary."

"It'll have to be before that, remember? One year will be fall semester next year, and we all go our separate ways in May, well..."

"Well what?"

"I don't think I'll be in a rush to go my separate ways from you."

Wow. Every time I thought I had a handle on this. "Michelle, I thought this was..."

"You thought I was using you."

"I didn't know what you wanted. We've played a lot and been avoiding a lot of deeper conversations. I've just been trying to keep your mind off the drugs. That was the original goal."

"You've done a great job of that. With the rushes I'm getting, I don't miss coke, and I'm relaxed and happy enough the rest of the time I don't miss weed. My grades have even gone up. So we'll avoid this conversation too, for now. But just keep in mind, even a barely reformed slut junkie like me can be particular about what guys she allows to do certain things to her. And when you get that particular, it's an emotional decision."

"Michelle-"

"Now I am not going to mess with your head by telling you I am falling in love with you, since I like my rough, cruel Master and don't want him getting emotional and angst-laden since you've always had bad luck with relationships. Now I read the chapter for class tomorrow like a good girl. So I'm going to go get my skimpiest bikini, turn on the hot tub out back, and be posing on the edge of it in about fifteen minutes. If Master would like to spend the two hours before bedtime raping a swimsuit model then playing in the hot tub with me rather than reading about some German I never heard of, go get the camera, some cash, and a nice big toy. I'll even try to pretend I'm putting up a fight at first." She kissed me on the cheek and scurried off. 

With that, I tossed Joachim Peiper and his Kampfgruppe of the Leibstandarte Adolf Hitler panzer division to the side, and went off to get the camera. 

The deck and patio out back was one of the nicest things about this place. The large in-ground pool was shut down for the winter, but the rest of it was still quite usable since autumn bit gently around here at first and we were still a week shy of Halloween. The hot tub had probably cost more than my car had when it was new. There was room for six people comfortably, and probably ten in packed-orgy conditions, not that I had tried. I don't know why the General had bought one like that since if he was an orgy kind of a guy I didn't know it. Maybe because it had three of every kind of water jet and bubbler the company made and he fell for a sales pitch. Regardless, it was the perfect all round setup for doing physical therapy in the pool and then soaking the damaged muscles and joints of the military profession. As my landlord began his service as an infantry private in the Korean War and retired from the reserve after Desert Storm with two stars, he had more of those than I did. It had also been a perfect place to have fun with Michelle, or soak out the physical damage from having physically overdone it when having fun with Michelle.

I grabbed my biggest, flashiest camera, a 35mm autoloading Nikon, popped in a roll of 800-speed film, grabbed a spare, and pulled several hundred dollars out of the bookcase stash to "pay my model". I also put her biggest vibrator in a pocket of my cutoff fatigue shorts, out of sight. This was far from our first role-play, but a new one. I was just wondering what the hell I'd do with the film. It wasn't like I could take it to Wal-Mart if this shoot went the way I expected. I tried to concentrate on it rather than Michelle's confession that she was getting emotionally involved. I just was not going to let my brain go there right now. When I'd heard her footsteps and the sound of the sliding glass door to the deck, I moved out. 

She ignored me as I came out the door, posing for an invisible audience. The tub was bubbling, steaming a bit in the evening's growing chill. Her hands slid over her body, teasing herself. The little black bikini was the sort worn on Brazilian beaches and by hopefuls at Spring Break swimsuit contests, and not the sort of thing that would ever be worn actually swimming. She was three or four slipknots from total nudity. As she had both the perfect body and perfect attitude for that, my cock was already getting hard.

I cleared my throat loudly. "You the model the agency sent over?"

She turned, faking surprise. "Oh, yeah, hi. I'm Candi. I'm new at this, but I really want to be a swimsuit model." Michelle would never win an acting award, but she could flip the switch and do "sexy" in such a way the Pope himself couldn't even SPELL "celibacy". 

I kept my face inexpressive. "Yeah, yeah. A lot of girls do. It takes something special to get noticed. As far as I'm concerned, you're just another wannabe who gets a hundred dollar day rate." I handed her a hundred out of my pocket as a prop.  

She stretched languidly. "You don't think I look special?" She gave her best Marilyn Monroe eyelash-flutter.

"Whatever. Hot little things like you are a dime a dozen in the modeling business. The guys telling you you're special just want sex."

She stamped her foot. "I'll be the best posing model you've ever had. I'll do anything."

"Ha, anything? That goes a lot further than swimsuit modeling, girl."

She did her best to fake a blush. "Well, not anything. I'm a good girl. I just want to swimsuit model. None of the Sports Illustrated swimsuit models did porn or anything."

I slipped the switch for two of the back patio spotlights. She was lit up like she was on stage. I raised the camera. Out on the lawn, I heard a couple deer spook and run for the woods. "OK, girl. You think you have something? Show me something."

She "lit up" and began posing. I think she'd been digging in my videotape collection. She was one half "The Penthouse 25th Anniversary Swimsuit Video" and one half "Hot Bodies of South Florida". Before I knew it, I'd gone through half a roll of film. Time to take charge again. "No, spread your legs further. Hike that bottom up tight. It's got to be so tight that guys can see the wrinkle. And shove those tits out. You've got them, so work them."

She responded obediently, and as she "tightened" her bikini bottom, I noticed her fingertips graze over her pussy. "Is that better, sir?"

"Now get in the tub. Pose on the edge, and start to show yourself off. You've been half-assing it so far."

She smiled a little, clinging to mock innocence. "Oh, you think I'd look better if I got...wet for you?"

My cock jumped, my heart double-beat. Oh, you dirty dirty dirty fucking cockteasing ex-junkie slut whore. You are going to pay for that before the night's over, I thought. But the inner voice was one of pride and lust, not anger. Fuck, it was drifting all the way to "love". Michelle read my face. She knew she'd scored with that line, and we'd both benefit. There was the tinest, fastest wink, then the game was back on between us. She slid her hands down over her exposed ass cheeks as she turned toward the tub and stepped over the low edge and down into it. Delicately seating herself on a corner, she demurely put her hands in her lap, using her upper arms to shove her breasts further up. She slid from pose to pose, a delightful exhibitionist. "You're not telling me how special I look. Aren't photographers supposed to encourage their models?"

"When I see special, I'll let you know. Until then you're just one more job." I resolved to do a nice Saturday afternoon fetish lingerie photography scene when I would coax and tease and flatter her until she orgasmed on film, but this wasn't the scene for that. She wanted to escalate this to a rape fantasy, so she had to put herself out there and out there and encourage it. To get that, I couldn't coax it. Oh, and she was rising to the occasion. My cock already had. 

She teased harder. Her hands slid over her breasts, back up over her thighs. She stood, and looked back over her shoulder, the rear of her bikini lost between those perfect ass cheeks. "Wait a minute." She submerged herself, and came up completely soaked. She stroked her long black hair back. "There we go. Now I'm nice and wet for you."

"If you are wet, I'm going to see that for myself."

"No, not wet like that. I told you, I'm a good girl."

I pulled out another hundred. "I'll double your pay if you take your top off."

She pouted. "No, only sluts and bad girls take their tops off on a photo shoot the first time. I want to be a good model."

I pulled a third bill. "Three hundred then. Triple your base rate. And maybe you'll get out of here with your bottom on if you don't anger me further."

"Well, that is a lot of money." She turned her back, and undid the tie securing her top. She theatrically tossed it to the side of the hot tub. "But I'm going to keep my hands covering everything important. I'm a good girl." She turned back around. 

"What you are is a fucking tease. And girls who tease get punished and used like they deserve." She shivered a bit at the words. I noticed a subtle movement of her hands over her nipples as her thighs clenched together just a bit. "You like the idea. You like getting men hard."

"Noooo, sir, I'm a good girl. I'm not a tease, or a slut."

"Look at you, you're soaked. And I don't mean from the water. I could come over there and find your pussy wet. I bet you'd be fingering it if I wasn't standing here."

"I, I...no. No. I'm a good girl. I want to be a good girl. I'm going to be a good girl."

"Sweet little Candi. Sweet to eat. It turned you on coming in here turning me on."

"You're mean. I'm putting my top back on." As she moved to do so, I let the camera hang on its neck strap and pulled both another hundred and the nice big pink jelly vibrator. 

"If you're so turned on, I can help you out. I'll be nice. I won't lay a finger on you. But you can take this nice toy and take care of that burning need you have in your pussy. You know how hard you made me. That's making you wet. You want something shoved in there. You need something shoved in there. It's just an uncontrollable animal instinct. Whether you think you're a good girl or a bad girl is irrelevant. Your pussy needs to get filled up. And you're going to fill it up while I watch. If you don't, maybe I won't be so nice."

Her breathing had sped up, the top barely tied back on. I knew she hadn't orgasmed since this morning, and she was getting very accustomed to coming three or four times a day. She was staring at the big pink silicone cock the way she would have stared at a vial of coke a month ago. I was just helping her substitute one addiction for another. She licked her lips, teasing. I could practically see her starting to salivate. I got what I hoped was a perfect picture of that. God, she was rarely more beautiful and radiant with lust than that moment.

"You're going to rape me, aren't you?" Somehow she failed to pull off "scared". Instead her tone of voice was somewhere around "hopeful". 

"You sound surprised. You come in here in that tiny little bikini showing that body off, you think you're getting out of here without being used? But I'll go easy on you. Maybe. Take the toy and the 400. You give me a nice show, get yourself off, and maybe I won't have to hurt you." I set the third bill and the vibrator down on the edge of the tub. "You have until I change this roll of film to decide."

She picked up the vibrator, and it buzzed to life. Damn, I hope that thing stays waterproof. She touched it to her pussy, enjoying its touch through the tiny thin strip of black nylon covering her pussy. "It feels good, sir."

"You like feeling good, don't you?"

She continued to play with it, her eyes closed and smiling. "Yes, I like this, I like this toy a lot. But if I give you a show, you said you wouldn't hurt me?"

"I said maybe I wouldn't have to hurt you. It better be a good show or I'll take what I want from you."

She sat back on the far edge of the tub, spreading her legs wide. She slid her fingers along the visible ridge, and followed it with the vibrator. She thoroughly explored herself with it, looking me in the eye and she did so. Every now and then she licked her lips and winked, the tease. She turned it off, and licked it prettily. "Your cock is hard. I can see it through your pants."

"Yeah, and I've got half a mind to come over there and shove it in your mouth."

She began to give the big silicone cock one of her world class-blow jobs. "You won't come over here. You'll get your camera all wet, and it's worth more than raping a cheap cockteasing slut like me." I shot two pictures of her deepthroating it, and the roll was finished. 48 shots gone, and I had no idea where I could ever get them developed. Who the fuck cared?

I very carefully turned the camera off, and set it down, safely inside the patio door. I had a feeling there was going to be a lot of water getting sloshed around very quickly. "Well, there's one defense for you that no longer works."

"Ummm, but you said you wouldn't hurt me?"

I threw my T-shirt to the side, and unbuttoned my shorts, tossing them after it. "I said I probably wouldn't hurt you. I never said I wouldn't fuck you. In fact fucking you seems like the best idea I've had all day."

She ran her hand down over the front of her bikini bottom unconsciously. She tugged it to the side, and slid the fabric to the side. I could tell she was soaked. She took the thick eight inches of silicone easily, turning it on. "Don't hurt me, please. I'll put on a good show for you. I'll be good." She began to fuck herself eagerly.

I started stroking my cock. Damn it felt good to have those shorts off. I'd been hard since she started posing. "You know you want it. And I'm not just going to stand here and jack off."

"Please..."

"You can keep fucking your pussy with your nice toy if you ask permission. But I'm going to come over there, and you're going to suck my cock."

"Nooooo, please, don't make me suck your cock. Please, don't, I'm a good girl, I'll put on a show for you. That's as dirty as I'll be. I don't even want to take my top off."

I stepped over the rim of the tub, and walked through the water toward her. I grabbed a handful of her hair with my left hand as my right undid the snipknot behind her neck and the one in the middle of her back. I threw her top on the side of the tub just in case I needed something to tie her up with. I noticed that she hadn't missed a stroke with the vibrator, and was fucking herself harder and faster. I slid my hand down to her left nipple and pinched it hard, twisting it just a little. She threw her head back and squealed almost joyfully. The closer to orgasm Michelle got, the harder she liked it. "So much for your bikini top, bitch. Those are beautiful tits. I like them. I'm going to love hurting them." I then reached down on each side and undid the knot on each hip. When she moved, her bikini bottom, such as it was, would fall away as well. 

"Oh, no, sir, please, I'm a good girl, don't hurt me-" 

"Shut up. Now you're going to sit down on this bench seat and you're going to suck my cock. You're going to suck me until I shoot all over your pretty face. If you do a good job, I'll let you keep fucking yourself. Otherwise I'll take your toy away." Between her hair and her nipple, I dragged her down to the lower seat. I could have stood up on the bench and had my cock around her face level, but if she did too good a job and my knees buckled, that was just further for me to fall and bust my head open on the opposite side of the hot tub. No matter how horny you get, people, you have to think of things like that. Safety first, you know. 




My Michelle Ch. 06



I awoke to the sound of Michelle crying softly next to me, her sobs shaking the bed just enough to stir me. It had been a marathon fuck before bedtime and I had been sleeping the sleep of the mostly dead. Reflexively I checked the clock (1:42 AM) and reached over to make sure my .45 was still in place on the nightstand. It was. And the pre-Wilson, Nashville-era Scattergun Technologies "Border Patrol" model shotgun in the corner, and- ah, never mind. This was about her pathologies, not mine. 

"Michelle? What's wrong?"

"Oh, shit, I'm sorry I woke you up. I was just having a bad dream, and I woke up, and I've been laying here thinking."

I hugged her. "Come on, what's wrong?"

"Go back to sleep, Master. I'm okay. You're the one with an early class tomorrow."

"Michelle, this is important. Come on. No titles or that bullshit. I want to know what's bothering you." Early was relative. I didn't have to be to "Special Topics in History", a pre-grad school seminar, until ten. 

"Well, the dream was about living in a shitty apartment in LA and fucking guys on camera for heroin. Not a good dream. I mean fucked up sex dreams can be fun, but that was not what I wanted at all. And I've never even tried heroin."

"The dreams haven't happened much lately anyway."

Weird dreams and nightmares are often a symptom of cocaine withdrawal, and for a while I'd actually been writing down descriptions of Michelle's dreams with some idea of using them to try helping wean her off. They'd basically fallen to nothing, at least that she could remember or would admit to. Besides, normally if she got freaked out on account of a dream she'd do something sexual to take her mind off it. She had woke me up to fuck a few times. Laying there crying was not her usual style. 

"I was dreaming about how bad I wanted the needle the guy had, even more than I wanted to cum, and then I woke up and started crying."

"Aw, hell, I'm sorry." We hugged. You know, like normal people. 

"Anyway, I've been thinking. You, me, us, how good things have been. It's been serious moment of clarity stuff. And with the way the last almost-month has gone, I've figured my problem out. I am two girls in one body. Not in a bipolar psycho way like Joan. She just goes zero to bitch in two seconds. I just have two completely different sets of goals and needs. 

"Goal one. I am an intelligent, educated woman who plans to work hard, make a lot of fucking money, retire young, and enjoy myself. I already have a marketing job lined up back home in Dallas with an ad agency one of Dad's friends owns. In five years I'll have my own department."

"All right, admirable goal so long as you don't go pushing yourself to eighty or ninety hours a week and go back to the Bolivian marching powder the way the Wall Street types do." 

She smiled weakly. "That ties into goal two. I'm a complete fucking slut who doesn't even want to put her clothes on to leave the house. If I'm not getting fucked or slapped, I better at least cock have a cock in my mouth. With what I have learned about myself over the last month, and looking back at my life of the last three years, unless I get the right sort of entertainment, I will go looking for it, and I have shitty self control. That means I'll end up a stripper or a hooker. Maybe, if I was lucky, I'd be a porn actress if I relocated to Southern California. Either way, my education is out the window, I know I'd be doing drugs again, and I probably catch something and am dead in five years."

I was somewhat taken aback at all this. "Damn. How long have you been laying awake thinking about this? We only went to bed a little over three hours ago." 

"I haven't just been thinking about this tonight, dummy. This goes way back, even before our little romantic interlude in the hot tub a couple nights ago."

"Yeah, the rape roleplay. Real romantic. Even I know better than that."

"Not the roleplay, which you will remember was my idea, the second fuck after that. You should have seen the look on your face when I dropped the hint about 'our' next place."

"I was meaning to ask you about that-" 

"Wait, let me finish this part first. These two goals are completely incompatible, and dying a junkie is what I moved in with you to avoid. So I need someone in my life with enough responsibility to make me put my clothes on and go to work, but enough of a vicious asshole to treat me the way I like when it's playtime. I've only ever gotten that treatment one place, here with you. So the solution is to keep you around in my life, and if that means I have to make this more of a lifetime deal, that's it then."

Wow. That was a lot to digest on short notice. And maybe I didn't pick my next words with quite the delicacy the situation required. I'm into equal rights. I'll talk to women the same way I'll talk to anyone else. That means I can be remarkably insensitive to what women think they need to hear, and I'm a little too brutally honest when emotional tact is needed. There was a reason I spent a lot of time single. 

"Michelle, my dear, please don't take this the wrong way, but are you fucking insane? We've been together less than a month, and you're talking marriage already? Ignoring the fact that I am really shitty husband material, you're-"

Yeah. She took it the wrong way. Guys, I don't give a shit if you call yourself a dom, a sub, a switch, or are as vanilla as that partial half-gallon of Breyers I've got in the freezer. Shit, you gay guys too. Don't think you're off the hook either just because you don't like pussy. Every fucking one of us has said something our "significant others" took the wrong way and it either involved tears or yelling. 

At this point she was crying again, and visibly trying to decide if she was going to hug me tighter or roll over to her side of the bed to cry in peace. "You mean you're unhappy? I thought I was being good! I thought I was making you happy!" she managed to choke out in between sobs.

Now this was exactly the third-worst scenario that I thought up that first day in the campus video arcade. Absolute worst case was Joe using her as bait to kill me. I solved that problem by putting him in the fucking dirt instead. Second worst was her stealing a bunch of my shit and trading it for coke. Hadn't happened yet. Third worst was she falls in love. I figured our chance of this becoming long term happiness was less than zero. It was still just above zero, but there she was rolling the dice on it. 

"No, goddamn it, I am way TOO happy. It's probably illegal for me to be this happy. I'm going to graduate college after six years, and I have you around. Someone beautiful, intelligent, pleasant company even with her clothes on, who fucks like a goddess, and to be honest is completely and totally out of my league. Even after you called me that day, I figured I had exactly zero chance with you no matter how hot I always thought you were. I had no idea who you really were under the pothead act. It's not that I don't appreciate the arrangement, I don't think you're looking at the downsides for you."

And yeah, my emotional reserve popped like an overripe pimple, spraying stuff I didn't want to see. It was moment of clarity stuff for me too. Here we were, just under a month in, and I was finding I loved her back even if I hadn't said it yet. Goddamn it, I did not want to be in this situation when we started out with this. Big risk, but the rewards were turning out to be more than I could handle. Fuck it, no guts, no glory. Let's see where this goes. 

"I don't give a shit about the downsides. As far as I'm concerned there are zero valid downsides. Getting married after graduation is standard fucking procedure, and I was going to be stuck doing that anyway if I hadn't left Brian." 

You know, maybe I was rubbing off on Michelle, but she didn't used to cuss that much. On the other hand, we were dealing with a lot of raw emotions here so her usual decorum went out the window. 

"So you're not some asshole fraternity boy that will make my friends jealous. Doesn't matter. In case you haven't noticed, my friends aren't really my friends any more, assuming they ever were. Fuck them. You and I are both smart people who will make more than enough money to live well on, and that's the important thing. I grew up in that whole bullshit upper-class putting on appearances fucked up upper class life. Mom and Dad drove the right cars, we lived on the right street, I danced, I cheered, I hung out with all the right people, and all it got me was two or three addictions we're still dealing with, a pregnancy scare or two, oh, yeah, and I don't think I ever told you, I lost my virginity when my Oh So Special high school football player boyfriend raped me the week before Prom-"

"No, you didn't mention that. I definitely would have remembered." My first instinct was to ask her where I could find this young man so he could end up in a nice deep hole somewhere as well, but I bit off the question before I could ask it. "Is that something you'd like to talk about?" I admit, it made a couple other things about Michelle fall into place. 

"Fuck no. Disappointment aside, it was not a big deal. I would have fucked him if he'd just asked right. I mean if he'd actually known what he was doing and tried getting me excited a little first, I might have even played along with it. He was what I now know was distinctly undersized, and he barely got it in before he shot his load. As rapes go, it was the worst three seconds of sex in human history. Damn, he was worthless in bed. He couldn't even pull my hair the way I like it-" 

"Oh, like this?" I got my left hand deep into Michelle's thick mane of black hair, flexing my fingers just a little for an extra tug to her scalp. She liked it that way. 

She gasped just a tiny bit, and her eyes closed. "Um, yes, Master, that is just the sort of grip that makes me feel properly helpless. And you know how much I like feeling helpl-"

Using her hair as a pivot point, I reached over for her hip and pushed her onto her back. My right leg slid inside her right leg, locking the knee with mine in such a manner that she couldn't close her legs if she wanted to. And sliding my right hand's fingers gently along her pussy, I got her attention and made sure she wouldn't want to. "Oh, yes, I know how you like feeling helpless." I delicately teased one finger past her lips. She was hot, but not yet really wet. She'd been up and down an emotional roller coaster tonight, and deserved a good orgasm before we tried to get back to sleep. And really, I did want to get her off a couple times and maybe get off myself so I COULD get back to sleep. I didn't want a long manic night of discussions. I wanted that last five and a half hours of sleep. Her hips eagerly thrust up to meet my finger, craving whatever she could get inside her. "You're rather eager, aren't you?" I began to finger her harder. 

"Because I'm an uncontrollable little slut, Master."

"But you're my uncontrollable little slut, aren't you?" I teased.

"Mmmm, by you, I can be controlled. You know how to treat me."

I fingered her clit a little extra for that. "Like that?"

"Fuck yeah....that feels good. Deep down, all I give a fuck about is pleasure. Giving pleasure, receiving pleasure, showing off my body for the pleasure of others. Turning men on...sometimes women if I'm really feeling like it. I love making other girls' boyfriends look at me. I love knowing I turned their men on. My nice big tits, my tight ass. Little, tight tops, or short skirts or tight jeans. That's one reason I was told I had to become an inactive member at the house. The vice president's boyfriend wanted me, so I blew him at a party just to piss her off. Well, him, I supposedly blew the treasurer's boyfriend too, but I honestly never laid a finger on him, wasn't my type, and there was the other fact that I never showed up to the mandatory meetings because I was usually getting high in the afternoons. But mainly because I blew her boyfriend. But I can turn on anyone, just like I turned on you."

Hmm, a lyric from "Rocket Queen", by Guns n'Roses. Wonder if that was deliberate? "Oh, Michelle. What am I going to do about you?"

"Right now, Master, I'm hoping if I talk dirty enough to keep your attention, you'll just shove a couple fingers in my pussy, or maybe give me permission to touch myself. Or tell me to touch you. Fuck, that's even better."

I rolled back a bit, freeing my cock from where it had rested against her thigh, and using her hair for leverage, made her look down. "Oh, you want to touch my cock, Michelle?"

"I'd rather get it shoved in me, but yes, I'd love to touch my Master's cock. Even calling it Master's cock gets me wetter. Does it get harder when I call you Master?"

"Yes, Michelle, you're a fucking turn-on. Every time you flirt and tease, my cock gets hard again. You know it, too. You know what you do to me. See it? See how hard it is for you?"

"Fuck yeah, I do. That's why I do it. I like being a slut. I like being your slut. Every since that first time I knelt for you and showed off my big fucking titties you'd been sneaking looks at ever since we met, I've loved showing off for you, making you want me, making you want to keep me safe like a treasure. Nobody has made me feel safe in years. You've made me happier than I have ever been, and I don't just mean cumming my fucking brains out all the time. You've probably saved my life, Master, and to keep it that way, I'm going to give you the rest of it. Now whose cock do I need to suck around here to get my ass spanked before we go back to sleep?" 

"You need to suck my cock, Michelle. And you'd better do a good job." Who the fuck was I kidding? She wasn't going to do a bad job, she enjoyed it too much. 

"Mmmm, will you hurt me if I do a bad job?"

"I'll hurt you anyway just because you like it." I pinched a nipple quick and hard for emphasis, getting a nice happy squeal in response. 

"Fuck yeah. Make me do it." Awkwardly, since I was leaning on my left side and mostly leaning on her, I rolled back and kept my handhold in her hair. I dragged her (gently, I didn't want to tear her hair out at the roots or anything) up off her back and pulled her mouth down to my cock. 

My left hand came up the back of her thigh and started fingering her from behind. She stopped sucking long enough to moan, and I reached over with my right and smacked her on the ass. "Get back to work, you lazy bitch." She eagerly pushed her ass backward for more, oohing and ahhing theatrically, so I smacked it three more times quickly. 

She slid to her right, throwing her leg over my head, settling into the classic 69 position. 

"There you are, Master. You can get a better swing that way. Spank my ass until you shoot your load and I swallow it like the cumslut I am. You haven't gotten my ass really red lately, you know how I need it...I love it...I love your cum..."

Michelle could be an enthusiastic and presumptuous little slut, but if you could turn down an offer like that, you're a better man than I am. With my right hand, I began laying an even pattern of spanks across her ass, while she turned the blowjob throttle to 11. Maybe 12. I repaid the favor by sliding two fingers into her pussy with my left hand. If I could have reached the vibrator in the nightstand, I would have used that, but hey, I can work bare-handed. 

From there, it was a drag race to see who'd cum first. Michelle's muffled happy I'm-getting-fingerfucked noises were throwing an extra weird vibration into one more of her world class blowjobs. I leaned my head forward to see if I could get a tongue on her and really make it a 69, but she was just a little too far forward. The fingers would have to do. 

She sucked fast, she sucked hard. It was like having your dick in a NASA wind tunnel and getting electric shocks at the same time. Her hands pumped my cock, played with my balls, and it took serious mental effort to concentrate on keeping my hands working on her. But she won the race. The orgasm was like a bomb going off in my head, but as I worked her clit a little more, I felt her shudder with her own release as she was still swallowing. 

She bounced off of me and spun 180 degrees for the post-orgasmic cuddle. Taking a long pull of her ice water off the nightstand as a chaser for the shot she just took, she kissed me on the cheek as a near-unconsciousness claimed me. 

"Good night, Master. I love you."

The next morning, the alarm clock beeped at eight. We stumbled out of bed after some brief kissing, and wandered through our morning routine. Thank fuck that house had more than one bathroom. Michelle was not always quick to get ready. She'd usually do her makeup on the drive in, but her hair required The Big Mirror. Really, I didn't care. If she wanted the big mirror and take twenty to thirty minutes in the bathroom so I had to shave downstairs, who gave a shit? 

I heard our gym bags hit the hallway floor out by the front door. We always went to the gym in town before we came home from class, five days a week. Well, almost always. Accommodating for the knee, I tried to stay in something approaching combat conditioning. It was handy for the occasional gig bouncing bars or burying inconvenient drug dealers. Michelle was willing to sweat and suffer to stay porn-star hot. We did very different workouts, but we did a good job of dragging each other in there.

I was working on putting breakfast together when she walked in, properly dressed to impress her fellow business school types as always. Hell, some mornings she'd walk in naked just to make sure she didn't get toast crumbs or her preferred orange marmalade on her clothes. Thursday was her longest class day and a long day for me at the gym, so I tried to get some extra protein into her. 

She blew me a big kiss as I handed her a glass of orange juice. "Halloween is this coming Saturday. How shall we celebrate?"

"We're too far out for trick-or-treaters. We can do a jack-o-lantern for the front porch, but I imagine we'll go somewhere. Memphis comes to mind. We can just hit a club up there and take our costumes with us."

"Sounds good. But that also means we're a month from Thanksgiving, and that means my parents are coming."

I slid the bacon and eggs onto plates as the toast popped up. "Not a big deal. I've met your parents before. Besides, your dad used to fly Phantoms before he got out of the Air Force. I'm pretty sure he likes me."

"Uh, hello? When you met them, we weren't dating, let alone had anything to cover up! Dad's not the problem. Dad likes anybody who'll talk airplanes with him. Mom is the problem, and she has her hand up Dad's ass like a puppet. If you act like you, Mom is going to be horrified, and we have problems." She raised her eyebrows and looked at me as if to say "OK, you're the dom, now what?" as she crunched into her toast. 

Oh, yeah. That part. Michelle's folks didn't know she wasn't living at the townhouse they were paying the bills for. They didn't know their carefully crafted corporate merger with her ex-boyfriend's family was out the window. They also didn't know about the coke problem I was helping her with, but what the hell, I'd hidden stuff from my family too. My family was East Coast while Michelle's folks lived in Dallas these days Jackson, Mississippi before that, I think. My family wasn't an issue. I'd been gone for years. But with the big Mississippi University versus State University of Mississippi game being played in Cambridge that Thanksgiving weekend as it was every other year, a lot of parents (a shocking number of whom had gone there themselves) took that as an excuse to have big turkey dinner tailgate parties and lavishly entertain. It was the sort of inbred family tradition bullshit I didn't fit in with that made me hate that school and made me wish I'd gone somewhere else, but this close to graduation it wasn't like I was going to pack it in. 




My Michelle Ch. 06



Regardless, Michelle would have to explain to Mommy and Daddy why she'd changed boyfriends, and why they weren't going to be swapping stocks at her wedding, and so on. We sure as hell weren't going to tell the truth, but something reasonable we could stick to. I suppose I'd have to fake normalcy and leave some of my weaponry in the car. But I was touched that she said "we" would have problems and not "I" would have problems. 

Bacon time. "Okay, we have a couple weeks to fix that part. I don't even remember the last time you called home so I'm not going to panic over your parents yet. Halloween's closer, let's worry about doing that right." "It's been a couple weeks since I talked to them. They're kinda used to me only calling home to ask for money. They don't know ANYTHING about this, us, whatever. You're just that weird guy in the Metallica shirt who was still hanging around with my roommate."

"I'll let you handle talking to them. We can figure out the mechanics of letting them know we're engaged later on."

"Oh my God, yeah, I kinda proposed last night, didn't I?"

"Yeah, you did, which is usually the guy's job to do. Second thoughts, my love?"

"Fuck, you said the L word! You bastard! Fuck, you have to get to class so I can't celebrate by cockteasing you until you ass-fuck me!"

"Okay, I'll take that as a no. Ring shopping is now on the to-do list since you sure as hell can't show your mom your collar. We've never even gone to see the guy in Nashville about getting your real one made. We're all kinds of behind the power curve in our planning process here. So, let's get caught up. First, what are you wearing for Halloween?"

She was happy for a change of subject from her parents, and her voice dropped to a husky Marilyn Monroe whisper as she giggled. "I don't know. What is my loving Master going to dress his loving slavegirl as?"

"Well, there's your schoolgirl outfit, the leather corset, you haven't really finished that soldier girl costume yet..." So far, that had involved a green Army Class A jacket, size 34, from the thrift shop on Highway 32, one of her black garter belts, and some alterations a friend in the SCA hadn't finished for her yet to "adjust" the cleavage. 

"Fuck, you know what I saw in one of the magazines? A black leather French maid's dress with a built-in corset. Even the apron and frilly little headpiece were white glove leather. Holy shit, I got wet just thinking about putting it on." Her eyes rolled back in her head a little. "Leather slut and French maid roleplay at the same time. That's a two for one." 

"OK, remind me to add that to your birthday presents list." Show me a guy who does not have at least one French maid fantasy, and I will show you a stone cold homosexual.

"Add a couple more pairs of leather panties. The last time I wore the red ones all day, they were so wet by the end they took two days to dry out and still don't look as good as new."

"Hmmm, might have to go to mail order for those, and for a higher grade of leather. The selection at Christie's is really hit or miss on that stuff, and it's not like we can call up there ahead of time to check the selection." Like I said in Chapter One, the days before online ordering could be a pain in the ass. 

"I knew it was a risk, but they felt so good on my pussy I thought it would get me through that whole Thursday of classes. Four fucking hours, three of it in the same lecture hall. Fuck my life. I just wanted to get out of there and have you pick me up and come home."

"So you could cum at home after you came home, right?"

"Fuck yeah, actually you gave me a vibrator for the ride home after I begged. Like I said, you know what I need, you dirty fucker. And shit, I have to do it all again today."

That was one hell of a ride home last week. I would always remember it well. "Focus, Michelle, focus. Halloween. And eat faster, we gotta get going."

"OK, my vote, not that bratty slave sluts should technically have a vote but I'm also your fiancée now which gives me a bit of decision making authority back-"

"Oh, it does?" I laughed. 

"Uh, if you want to be my well-kept boy-toy house husband when I bring home a low six figures next year it does." 

"All right, I bet since you're first year at the firm you don't break seventy thousand, but I'll grant the point. And I don't plan on being an idle house-husband."

"OK, so you'll have the financial freedom to work the counter at some Dallas gun shop just for fun and the six bucks an hour for play money. Have a ball. I'll be the breadwinner. I know we won't have a mortgage, Mom and Dad are buying the house."

"No shit?" Well, there goes one legit way to slowly launder the $140,000 that was still hidden in the garage. I'd have to think of something else. I stood and put the dishes into the sink. 

"No shit, family tradition. I'll just make sure they don't stick us with some mini-mansion in some stuck-up neighborhood we'll hate. Baby, you're marrying into old Southern money that's had a very good few decades lately. I'll do my best to keep you kept up. Now, as I was saying before I was interrupted-" 

I was heading for the door into the living room anyway. "Michelle, I'm going to go get the riding crop."

"Oh, fuck yes, I was hoping you'd say that...maybe the cane..." she purred. 

"Now before I threaten to punish you and you pretend not to enjoy it and we lose track of the conversation and I probably decide I'm not going to Special Topics, you were saying?"

"Tiffany's is having a Halloween night costume contest. I heard it on Rock 103. It's a fuckin' strip club. I can dress to win a costume contest at a fuckin' strip club."

"What were you thinking?"

"If I get the Army jacket back in time, I go with that. That's creativity. A few of your old ribbons for color, black leather bra for max cleavage, the panties and garter belt to match, black stockings, maybe the thigh high boots and one of the riding crops. Your mirrored shooting glasses from your rifle stuff too. Big hair, killer makeup, very domme-looking. I'll watch "Leather Bound Dykes From Hell" again to tune the look. "

Part of me wondered why she'd been watching lesbian porno tapes. Whatever. 

"The sort of guys who fall in love with strippers will cum on themselves. The judges will eat it up. If I don't have the jacket back in time, Plan B is a see-through white blouse, my best red bra, the plaid skirt, no panties, white thigh-highs, and a really vicious pair of red stripper heels. Hair down in pigtails for that."

"Only suggestion I'd make is add a red thong to the schoolgirl plan. They're often sticky about letting amateur contest entrants and such go bottomless. 

"Noted. I think I have a matched pair that will do nicely. What I don't have is the shoes. I have a perfect black pair, not red."

"Michelle, that means we better go to the store ahead of time. Fredericks, probably."

She giggled a little bit. "Yes, Master. If I promise to put out in return, would you give me a ride to go get some shoes tonight?"

We were interrupted by the phone ringing. I answered it. "Hello?" The caller ID was in the living room by that phone. 

"Dave, have you left the house yet?" It was Dr. Dave Fitzgerald-Rodriguez (don't ask, long story), my prof for Special Topics.

"No, what's up?"

"One of the Ph.D candidates, I won't say which one, is having dissertation trouble. Would you be offended if I cancelled for today and just told you spend the day studying how you'd do America's war crimes in Latin America better and bloodier?" I had to laugh. I was 180 degrees off the guy politically, but we'd both been to Central America at different times and for different reasons. "No problem, I have plenty of books to read."

"Yeah, yours and the General's. God, what a house to rent."

"Too true, and cheap at the price."

"Great. Well, see you next Thursday then."

"Bye." I looked over at Michelle. "Well, beautiful, I don't have to be anywhere today now, and you don't have class until one."

She laughed, and her hands went up to the top buttons of her blouse. "Wow, how ever will we kill the next three hours?"

"Michelle?"

Her blouse flew to the side, as she arched her back. "Yes, Master?"

I gave in. "I love you."

She smiled, and her skirt slid to the floor. "I know."



My Michelle Ch. 07



Friday morning, around seven in the morning. We'd gotten in a little late from our shoe-shopping run to Memphis. It had not been a quick walk-in, walk out deal. I should have known. It had involved stops at Fredericks, Victoria's Secret, Christie's, and dinner at the Olive Garden before we drove the hour back home with not one but four pairs of shoes, more stockings, a new bright red bra and panty set from Fredericks, a few new toys, and so on. At this rate I needed to start hitting the casinos again. I was hemorrhaging money on her from the "gray cash" (shady but explainable) stash, and didn't want to tap the "black cash" (what I'd taken from Joe after his, uh, "disappearance"). 

The only good news was that all those errands could all be accomplished in the immediate area of the mall, with a stop at the grocery store for a pumpkin on the way home. This meant we had to get to bed quickly if we were going to have our usual amount of fooling around, and that had been hard. We'd gotten our jack-o'-lantern carved and out on the porch with a couple 12-hour green chemlights in it. But then Michelle had then felt compelled to try on the new red heels with the white thigh-highs for tomorrow night (assuming the SCA sewing expert didn't have the jacket at noon), and yeah, use your imagination. Suffice it to say I was not in a hurry to get out of bed. My alarm clock wasn't even set to go for another fifteen minutes. 

I didn't have a choice about getting out of bed today. Michelle had her usual Marketing Admin at 9 and I had German Lit at ten before we could hit the gym and could be done for the day. Standard M-W-F schedule. After years of slogging through retakes of math classes, German was the only thing still keeping me in school so I could finish up the two years' foreign language requirement. I just did history things like Special Topics to stay in practice. Michelle was already out of bed, and I heard a loud "Oh, god-DAMN!" from the bathroom next door.

"You OK, dear?" I yelled.

"Yeah, but come here and look at this, please?"

Ugh. I don't wanna get out of fuckin' bed. I'm hurting and I'm tired. Courage, Dave, courage. A little pain in the knee, back is aching, but a nice hot shower...fuck it, I'm going to go sit in the hot tub for a while. 

I got up, and stumbled up the hall to the bathroom. Since I was as much a housesitter as a tenant, what was now "our" bedroom was not the master bedroom of this four bedroom house. The General's bedroom was at the end of the upstairs hall, with the master bath off of it. I only went in there to run a vacuum cleaner now and then and wipe the dust off the horizontal surfaces.

The hall bathroom door was cracked open, and I leaned in there. Michelle was on the porcelain throne, reading one of the stack of old Penthouses I had kept in there for those occasions when I hadn't carried in a book. 

She turned it toward me. "Oh my God, what do I have to do to get a pair of those boots?"

They were over the knee in height, black leather, chromed stiletto heels, half a dozen buckle straps up the back of each calf, and were very heavily accessorized with chains and chrome studs. Perfect 1980-early 90's rock video vixen wear. All of us of a certain age remember the style. The little index of such things in my head started spinning as I recalled the blonde bent over the red motorcycle. "Huh, that's Melissa Wolf under one pseudonym or another, looks like an Earl Miller picture..."

"Uh, don't know, don't care. I can tell she's not a real blonde and that's it. But the piece of my girly brain that likes sexy shoes is fuckin' overloaded. Look at those things!"

"Honey, they have so much metal on them they probably weigh five pounds each."

She started laughing. "Yeah, like I am going to WALK anywhere in those things. The hardest part if they're that heavy is pointing the heels at the ceiling like a good slut is supposed to. Who the hell are we kidding?"

I had to laugh at her cheerful honesty. "All right, I get the point, we can research it and find you a pair like them. Meanwhile, are you almost done or do I have to go in the other bathroom to piss?"

She looked a little abashed. "Um, I'm still working on it. Would you mind turning the fan on on your way out, Master?" I laughed again, blew her a kiss, and quickly retreated to borrow the master bathroom. 

While relieving the pressure on my bladder, I thought about it, backwards-planning the morning the way airborne and air assault operations are scheduled. It was the same thing three days a week, but it never hurts to recheck the plan. Michelle to class at nine, thirty minutes to get there on average, leave here at 0830, fifteen minutes to get dressed and cleaned up, oh, cool, leaves me at least thirty minutes in the tub for a nice hot soak even if I was still making breakfast. Hell yes, it was a compensation for being awake early. I flushed and headed for the deck. Fuck clothes. I just made sure I had my old dive watch with me. I didn't have a clock out there. 

I flipped the cover back and settled carefully out of the chilly air into the steaming water. Keeping the thing running all the time was a contributor to the electric bill, but I really didn't care. One, I considered it a medical necessity at times. Two, I could generally afford it. I closed my eyes and sat back. 

No more than five minutes later, I heard the patio door slide back and forth, and Michelle joined me. I felt the disturbance in the water as she stepped down into the tub. I opened my eyes, appreciated her nudity for a moment, and then we quietly looked out across the foggy lawn in the early morning light. She looked over at me with a smile. "You know what I think is funny in that pile of porn magazines?"

"What's that?"

"The yellow Post-It notes marking your favorite pages."

I shrugged. "Had to find the good parts again somehow."

"Yeah, but you know what I like? The number of bookmarks that were for big-chested brunettes, like Stacy and Gina and so on. It's a turn-on for me to know I was your type before I myself was your type, like before we met."

"While you're quite attractively packaged for consumption, Miss Marketing Major, it's your dirty mind that is your most appealing point to me."

She mock-pouted. "See, it's not as much fun for me to know that a skinny blonde with B-cups could turn you on as much if she was also a masochistic little nympho slut. I think I'll go with my original theory, that you looked at Stacy or whoever and thought of me."

"Stacy Moran was the Pet of the Month four years before we met, and in that issue she was dyed blonde. And Gina Lamarca has been dyed red for most of her career. I don't think that was her natural color though. The carpet doesn't quite match the drapes."  

"I swear, I ought to have a serious accident with my teeth the next time I'm blowing you. It would totally be worth the punishment afterward. You're just infuriating."

"If punishment is its own reward, I ought to not do it then."

She slid over to my side of the tub and cuddled up next to me. "I'd just have to tease you so much that you couldn't stand to keep your hands off me. Hurt me, pleasure me, whatever. Just use me. Forever and ever, just keep me safe and use me. For both of our sakes."

"Oh, no. If you're getting punished, you're getting punished. I'll just think of something horrible to do to you. Tight bondage and teasing with absolutely no chance at getting off might be a good start."

She closed her eyes and shuddered a little bit. "Really tight, blindfolded, gagged? Fuuuucccck. I know I'm not supposed to like that idea, but I'm wet already and it's not just the tub. One of those gags with the big leather harness to it? Fucking hot."

I held her closer to me. "You know, next year after graduation when we actually both have to work all day, it's going to be a lot less fun." 

"Ick, don't remind me. It's not going to be fun at all."

"It could be worse. Besides, there are lots of ways I can remind you at work that I haven't forgotten about you. You can always wear your plug to work. Phone sex on your breaks. Then of course there's lingerie selection. No one could tell you had your leather corset on under your work clothes-"

"I look so fucking hot in it too. You definitely need to lace me up in that again really soon. I really love leather, which is something else I didn't realize about myself before we hooked up."

"Depending where your office is in Dallas, we can sneak out to a nice hotel for a nooner now and then, or you could come home for a long lunch-"

"More like a cheap motel. That way we can afford to do it more often, and you can treat me like a sleazy hooker. But coming home is really hot too. You can pick out my play clothes for the afternoon, and I have to wear them to work under my clothes. Stockings, garter belts, maybe my pretty leather bra, no panties. Nobody will know but you and me. One of those tight leather body harnesses, the ones with all the straps and the chrome that doesn't cover anything? Fuck, it makes me wetter thinking about it. Nobody will know what I'm dressed like underneath. Only you. I'll come home and get used like a fucking slut. Or in a motel at lunch, me stripping and you making me scream like a twenty-dollar whore. You'll know what I need-"

I was getting hard thinking about it. Michelle got distracted from trying to touch herself by that, and her hands slid down her body, under the water, and over my hardening cock. 

"Oh, I talked dirty and turned Master on. You love it when I talk dirty. You love it when I admit how much I love being the slut you want to fuck, a toy for you to use. Oh, fuck, this is what I've always needed." 

"And just think, I never knew who you were underneath. Just the sort of beautiful bombshell sex doll I always wanted. 

Well, well, well, you never can tell

Well, well, well, my Michelle..."

I didn't have Axl Rose's vocal range, but she giggled anyway. 

"Now I'm clean, and so discreet, so don't say a word. But most of all, my ass is yours, in case you hadn't heard...." 

I laughed hard at that. "I thought you were a Grateful Dead fan."

"The Grateful Dead suck. Every pothead in college pretends to like the Dead because it's mandatory for potheads to pretend to like the Dead and have at least one poster up like a gang sign. Besides, show me anyone white in our age group who hasn't owned at least one copy of Appetite for Destruction. It was a law or something."

"Good point." 

"Speaking of good points, look how hard my nipples are." She swung into my lap, straddling me and pushing those big beautiful tits up in my face. She then began grinding herself down on me. I grabbed her hair from behind and pulled her head back with my left hand as I caught her left nipple in my right, squeezing and twisting it hard. Her gasp of pain/pleasure was music to my ears.

"Obviously my pet is feeling enthusiastic this morning, isn't she?"

Her eyes were closed and her breathing rapid. "Yes, Master."

"And she's being very pushy because she'd like to get fucked before class, wouldn't she?" Like I was fooling either of us with my very hard cock pinned between us. I wanted to fuck her too. Hell, having a woman like her at my beck and call was probably affecting me the way the coke used to affect her. But still, one has to at least TRY to stick to the formalities of the game sometime. 

"Your slutty pet always wants to get fucked, Master," she practically purred. "She is never really happy unless she's doing something sexy to make her Master happy. Turning you on turns me on, and you always take such good care of me..."

I shifted my hips just a little and slid into her. She was as hot and wet as the tub. "And you know you turn me on, and you use it against me..."

"As long as it makes you happy, I don't see the harm...a little initiative from your subordinates is a good thing in leadership and management, right?" To punctuate her words, she began to slowly ride my cock, clamping down on me as she did.

"Just so long as you don't forget who's in charge."

"I wouldn't be happy in charge. Well, when we get around to sharing a girl, I want to be in charge of her, but you'll always be in charge of me. Even when I'm on top and riding your cock, it's for your pleasure, it's your devoted slavegirl serving her Master." I pushed upward a little harder at the thought.

"Mmmm, yes, that's it, let me talk dirty to you. Master, tell you how good your big fucking cock feels pounding into me. I love riding it, I just want more of it. I like being used, I want you to blow a nice load of cum before we have to go to class. I want my pussy nice and sore so I can remember the good fucking you gave me, and look forward to the next one. It gets me through the day, when I have to pretend I'm something other than a piece of ass, a little junkie slut who has to be kept under control..."

Michelle was a bottomless well of verbal filth, and I admit, I never got tired of it. She was slamming up and down on me, her pussy a perfect fit. One hand steadied her against my shoulder, and the other furiously rubbed her clit. She fucked like my own personal porn star, and I loved her for it. In no time at all, she'd cranked a great orgasm out of me and seconds after screamed one of her own.

She wrapped her arms around my neck, kissing me fiercely. "Did I do a good job, Master?"

I had that happy drugged feeling every guy knows. "You did an awesome job, beautiful. Now we still have to eat something and get to class, so we have to go."

She looked over at my watch, eyes widening a bit, and bounced out of the tub. I was able to get one good teasing spank on her ass as she exited. She grinned at me as I climbed out. "Promises, promises, Master."

"Oh, it is a promise, but I just have to delay the delivery a bit."

We got dressed and got through the ride to class on schedule. Michelle had to hit the library after class, so we just agreed to meet at the Student Union after I got out of German and catch lunch there. 

German dragged, as always, but I got over to the Union with what was left of my sanity intact. 

Walking in past the bulletin board, there was a missing persons' poster with Joe's face on it. Apparently after the first week someone had figured out that Joe was gone. I'd left his wallet in Memphis (men's room, Mall of Memphis), but I suppose no one ever found it and turned it in. Shame I didn't know anything about where he was, so far as anyone was ever going to be able to tell. I always could use the five thousand in reward money. 

I headed past the big stairway toward the lunch tables, and spotted Michelle. She'd waited to get a tray until I got there. I sat down across from her, and she looked distracted. "What's wrong?"

"Oh, ran into Joan."

Ouch. I had been avoiding her, so had Michelle. We'd only made a couple trips back over there to get some of her stuff and we did it when we knew Joan was busy teaching freshman physics labs. We'd been keeping the Lexus in town, sometimes swapping my Cavalier for it for the Memphis runs. It was a much faster and more comfortable ride, after all. 

"So, what happened?"

"Well, we were in public, so she didn't start swinging, but it started with 'So what's up with you and Dave' and it went down from there. She started using words like "cheating, slut, whore, trash" and so on. And really, I don't fuckin' appreciate being called a slut unless it's you and you're pulling my hair. I denied everything, of course, like we agreed, and I got out of there as quick as I could, but she scares the shit out of me sometimes."

"Wow. OK, well, this could be a potential problem, but we don't have to worry about it before Monday. You'll be gone with me all weekend."

And out of the corner of my eye, with a green jacket on a hangar under dry-cleaning plastic, came the local SCA sewing genius. I don't remember her "mundane" name, but she was Antoinette de Montfort at the time. Plan A for tomorrow night was back on. 

I looked over at Michelle, who was peering at the jacket through the plastic. "Honey, do you want to get lunch or shall we get out of here?"

"Uh, I'm going to be shaking my ass in front of three hundred horny strangers tomorrow. I don't want to eat anything more filling than air, and I'll probably go do some extra at the gym today. Gawd, days like this I really regret having quit smoking." I looked at her sideways and arched an eyebrow. "I mean cigarettes, not weed. Every now and then a Marlboro is good for appetite suppression and the nerves."

Three hours later, we were leaving the gym and hoping we'd just have enough energy for a decent afternoon fuck. Instead, when we got home we just lazed in the hot tub until about two before we got out of the tub and began packing.

Out in the garage, I went to the pile of my stuff in the corner that I didn't waste space in my room on. I opened up the plastic fishing tackle box holding my assorted uniform odds and ends from my Army days. While ribbons did not come easily in the pre-9/11 peacetime Army, I had a few. A couple had memories attached, like the Army Commendation Medal with V (for valor) for one rough day in western Iraq, and the US, Saudi, and Kuwaiti "I was there" ribbons that were all awarded for Desert Shield/Desert Storm. There were also a couple trash ones loose in the box. I decided to use those. I took a three-ribbon holder, which was a simple brass strip with clasps on the back to attach it to the jacket, and slid on a rainbow-colored Army Service Ribbon (known as the "Gay Pride" or "Fag Tag" ribbon since it both looks like the gay pride flag and is awarded for the shocking achievement of actually finishing basic training), a red and yellow National Defense Service ribbon (the same, only in wartime), and a spare red, white, green, and black Kuwaiti Liberation ribbon. Though I'd probably never wear the uniform again, this meant I didn't have to split up any of my intact ribbon mounts. My combat and service badges all stayed in the box. I pinned the one row of ribbons over the left pocket of Michelle's jacket and zipped the garment bag closed. I put it in the car, not thinking about what else was in that box.

I went upstairs to where Michelle was packing her other play clothes for the trip. There was her leather corset with the garter straps, the matching G-string, a leather garter belt, leather bra ("I'll make up my mind at the last minute"), the stockings, her tall laceup PVC stripper boots, her zip-up leather stripper boots, spare stockings, her four-inch stilettos for "just in case", some bondage toys and vibrators for that night in the hotel, and other related fun things. I watched her fuss over the assemblage with some amusement. The fact she was working naked except for a red satin thong and matching spike heels made it even funnier. 

"You know, normally only women in porn films just randomly dress like that around the house."

She looked up with an evil grin. "But I like being your personal porn star. I therefore have standards to maintain. Pussy perfectly trimmed and never sweaty or smelly, hair never too fucked up, and so on. Have you noticed me sitting around in a bathrobe watching "Seinfeld" with my hair all fucked up since I moved in?"

"A very valid point. You know, we could bounce out of here tonight, spend a second night in the hotel, and maybe spend some quality time in Memphis tomorrow shopping for engagement rings."

She looked up and smiled. "Mmmm, but I'd want to play really rough in the hotel and it might leave marks for tomorrow night." 

"Bring your long gloves and it'll keep the cuffs from chafing, and I'll try not to mark up your ass too badly."

"Would it be weird of me to say a quiet night at home appeals a bit more? We can do the ring shopping sometime when we're not totally on deadline. We can blow off class a day and go hit those little expensive boutique shops that are only open a couple hours a day."