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The Barmaid

By: Ronnie Wachuka



"Buy me a drink sailor?"

Blearily I swiveled my head towards the sound and tried to focus my eyes to see who was addressing me.

The barmaid who stood by the table finally came into focus. She was short, perhaps 5'2," blond, and what I'd once heard described as "healthy" by a good old boy from Texas. She was what would now be called a BBW, not overly fat, but pleasingly plump and pretty to boot with sky blue eyes.

I looked down to the table and viewing the small pile of coins and bills, allowed I had enough money for another beer and a drink for her, so I nodded my head. 

She picked up my empty glass and walked off to the bar to refill it and pick up her drink (juice and?). While I waited for her to return I looked around and found myself to be alone except for the bartender and the barmaid. Glancing towards the clock I finally determined that it was almost closing time which meant that after this drink it was time to head back to the ship.

Hell of a note! Friday night. I've got liberty until Monday morning and payday isn't until Tuesday.

Being a young seaman back in the fifties on a destroyer in the Naval Shipyard in Portsmouth, Virginia was not a good thing because other then to drink 3.2% beer there wasn't a whole lot to do, and when you're only paid $99.00 plus sea pay each month you can't afford to do much else anyway.

The barmaid brought the drinks, sat down, thanked me, and introduced herself as Jean. 

She asked me a series of questions about myself, where I was from, and what ship I was stationed on. I answered her questions as she fired away, making small talk, while all the while she kept an eye on the clock. 

As she sipped from her glass she all of a sudden got my attention when she asked me if I wanted to take her home when the bar closed.

Is the Pope Catholic? Hell Yes! But I wondered how much this was going to cost me. 

She looked at the expression on my face. Taking hold of my hand she informed me in a hurt tone that she wasn't a hooker. She was lonely tonight and she didn't want to be alone.

Shortly, the owner entered the bar to count the til and the Young black man who'd entered with him began the nightly cleanup.

Jean took off her apron, told the owner goodnight and grabbing my hand, pulled me out the door.

Standing under the neon sign I put my white hat on and looked up at the flashing yellow horse just as the bossman turned the sign off for the night. If you want to know the bar was called the Golden Stallion.

Jean once again took hold of my hand as we headed for wherever home was. 

She began to tell me about herself. She was 34 years old, came from Indiana, and had been married to a sailor for a couple of years but they'd split the blanket several years back.

34 years old? To an 18 year old sailor she was ancient. But what the hell! Any old port in a storm.

After walking about 6 blocks we arrived at an old wood frame building with ancient white asbestos siding which had probably at one time been the corner grocery store. Telling me to be very quiet we mounted the stairway at the back of the building.

I didn't have to be told twice to keep quiet. Back in those days Norfolk and Portsmouth had special units known as "The Vice Squad." If you got caught shacking up you both got a healthy fine and if she was a repeat offender she got fined and 30 days on the "Pea Farm," picking her dinner at that quaint little prison out in the county.

Arriving at the top of the stairs she unlocked a door and we stepped into her apartment. As she turned the light on I looked around. There was no living room, just a bed and sofa in one room, a small kitchenette with a table, and a bathroom.

She put her handbag down on the sofa and turned to me pursing her lips for a kiss.

I returned the kiss as I put my arms around her and started to back her towards the bed. She broke my hug, told me she'd meet me in bed after she went to the bathroom.

She shortly returned, turned off the light, took off her nighty, and joined me in bed. Hot Damn, I was finally going to sleep with a real woman.

I'd had sex before courtesy of several skivvy houses here and there, but I'd never actually slept with a woman.

The only saving grace for me that first time was that I hadn't had enough beer to be drunk and a failure, but I had had enough to slow me down. I don't think Jean had a climax but she was breathing pretty heavy and with my being stupid about a women's body, I didn't have a clue. All I knew was to stick it in and merrily pump away.

My sex education was started that night by a lady who had experience, knew what made her feel good, and who now proceeded to teach me.

After I came inside her she cuddled up and started my sex education by teaching me the different ways to kiss. Boy was I dumb. When she got me to the point where I could kiss and begin to arouse her, she taught me how to nibble an ear and softly kiss her neck and shoulders.

Then it really got interesting when she took my hands and placed them on her breasts. Yahoo! I was having fun! After squeezing and playing with those lovely soft beauties she lifted one up and put the nipple in my mouth, telling me to suck the nipple and to gently bite and pull it with just my lips as I squeezed, while I rubbed, pulled and just plain had a good time playing with the other breast and nipple.

By now Jean was starting to breath a little heavier and she murmured to me it was time to switch as she took my play toy away from me and replaced the nipple I'd been sucking and biting with the other one. So I took hold of the now free breast and nipple and began to play with it. 

Suddenly Jean grabbed my head and pulled it up to hers so we could kiss some more. We began playing tongue tag as she taught me how to French Kiss.

Jean then raised the ante by starting to softly rub her fingers on the back of my neck. Being a quick learner I rapidly reciprocated. She actually shivered when I started to softly stroke her neck.

Taking my free hand in hers she began to rub it gently up and down her body. She seemed to enjoy it most when she spread her legs and started to rub the inside of her thighs. After a few more of my caresses she placed my hand on her pussy and began to softly rub my palm up and down the length of her slit.

Her pussy lips were spread and wet with my cum and her juices. A few more strokes and her motor began revving because she was now starting to push her hips towards my hand when she whispered that she wanted me to rub my fingers up and down the inside of her pussy lips. She started to breathe with short loud intakes of breath as if she was having trouble breathing. Between gasps she urged me to push my fingers inside of her pussy and push in and out.

We were now going to engage in that old high school game known to all teenagers as "stink finger." I thought I knew how to do that but I was dead wrong.

As I slid two fingers into her she actually pushed her hips up towards my thrust. I withdrew my fingers and pushed them back into her she cried out that she wanted them as deeply into her as I could. I began rubbing the walls as I moved the fingers in and out and it definitely had a greater effect as the noises coming from Jean's lips became louder and were emitted at a higher pitch.

She reached down and pushed my fingers into her at the same time reaching for my thumb which she pulled up that mysterious thing known as "The Clit."

When she had my thumb where she wanted it she told me to rub it gently, which I proceeded to do as I continued to rub my fingers inside her.

Having a free hand I put it on a breast, started to pull on the nipple when all hell broke loose!

I'd never heard the term screamer before, but Jean was a screamer. Her body was thrusting against my hand when she stiffened and then began to shudder. I was new to all of this so I looked at Jeans face and it scared the hell out of me.

Her eyes were rolling back under her eyelids and her mouth was twisted into a grimace like she was in pain. When her body stiffened her vagina walls closed down around my fingers. It seemed like this went on forever but was probably no more then 10 seconds as her body spasmed a few more times.

When she began to relax she placed both hands on my face, kissed me, and thanked me. Hell, I began to think I could walk on water.

I've taken in two state fairs, attended a dozen rodeos, and watched a hundred drag races, but I'll tell you I'd never seen anything like Jean's climax before.

Jean reached down to feel my peter and t'sked when she found it rock hard. I'd been so interested in getting Jean off and watching her reaction I'd not paid any attention to myself, but by now I was one horny sailor. 

Jean said she wanted to cuddle a little until she calmed down some and then she was going to take care of my little sailor. I had a good chuckle over that term because that was the first time I'd heard it used.

As we lay there I began to stroke Jean and kiss her some more. When I started to play with her breasts she began to rev up again. After a short period she was hot enough so that she was going to take care of "her little sailor."

I started to raise myself to climb aboard, but she stopped me and told me with a smile this was her treat so I should lay back and enjoy. She positioned me in the center of the bed, I put both pillows under my head, and Jean climbed aboard.

She bent over and took my prick into her mouth for a quick slurp then sliding up she sat down on it allowing it to enter her in one quick movement.

Two firsts within seconds of each other: First time I had a woman put my peter in her mouth and the first time the woman was on top. Man, I was having a great time. Thank you sweet Jesus!

She had me buried so deep inside her that her pubic bone was pressing against me but she wouldn't pull out. Instead she moved her hips back and forth, then from side to side, then back and forth again.

I think she was feeling me getting ready to cum because she pulled her nice warm pussy almost all of the way off of me and stopped all movement. I will admit that cumming had crossed my mind.

Next she leaned over so I could play and nurse at those wonderful dangling breasts, which is my second favorite bedtime activity.

I am a breast man and my favorite kind are big pendulous ones. You can hold them, lift them, squeeze them, suck and kiss any part of them. and the skin is so soft and warm. The only thing softer would be a mouse tummy. Jeans were large, pendulous, and I was in heaven.

Well I would have been if she'd quit messing around and buried my peter back into that nice warm wet pussy, but she wasn't going to for a few seconds until she had me under control again.

After a hundred years she finally pushed down slowly and let me back into that warm glove, burying me to the hilt again. By now Jean was beginning to breath heavily again as I played with her breasts and she felt my dick sliding against the walls of her pussy. When she had me buried she did something I'd heard about but never felt. She tightened her muscles and pulled almost all of the way off of me.

My good God, a snapping pussy. I must be living right. Only problem was that she had so much control over her muscles I thought she was going to pull the skin off my peter when she pulled off. 

I'm only average in the peter department and I really couldn't afford to lose anything. I need all I have. 

When her pubic bone was pressing against me again I wondered if a man had a muscle that would work so I gave it a try and sure enough my pecker twitched, so I did it a couple of more times. Jeans eyes came wide open as she looked at me no doubt wondering what the hell I was doing. For a minute or two she sat there clamping and releasing her pussy and then I'd return the favor with a twitch or two. 

Jean was getting ready to climax again as I heard her breathing head into the high soprano range as she started to break into a screaming session.

Suddenly the game was over. Jeans ass started snapping, her hips started rolling and she became a blur of motion. I was having a hell of a time trying to hang onto her breasts so I really squeezed them which only sent her to new heights.

She jammed herself down on me as she began to cum. When she started hers and her muscles clamped down it brought me to mine as I came inside her and I'll be damned if she didn't start a new series of climaxes, smaller then the first but enough that her body was shaking and she was moaning.

Finally she fell against me trying to catch her breath. As my abused peter started to shrink she clamped down in an effort to hold me inside of her and it worked for a bit but then I just sort of flopped out of my nice warm wet glove. 

She finally rolled off of me and as we were both totally exhausted she curled up and I lay behind her with a hand laying atop of a breast while holding the other as we drifted off to sleep.

Because she didn't have to work that weekend as all of the sailors were broke she and I spent the weekend together, with me treating her to a movie Saturday night. 

It didn't do to be seen walking together anymore then necessary because that might attract the vice squad. so we kept our activities indoors until I could get some of my civilian clothes over from Norfolk.

As the ship was in the yard for 3 months and then we'd be in and out of the yard for another 6 weeks Jean and I became an item, if you will.

That woman taught me how to play her body like a violin. She taught me how to kiss, lick, and caress it, She showed me how to find those parts of a woman's body that excite and arouse her. She taught me how to be gentle, how to be rough without actually causing pain, and how to be patient.

She even taught me to be devious. Not to be repetitive. To take different routes, go to different places. She taught me to keep my lover in suspense as to what was going to happen next. Finally not to overlook the not so obvious for the obvious.

In the process she even taught me how to move inside of a woman and how to control myself so I could last longer before I came.

The time finally arrived when it was time to load up and head for Guantanamo Bay, Cuba (Gitmo) for refresher training.

The night before the ship left Jean kissed me goodbye and told me she'd see me when we got back.

Eight weeks later we returned from Gitmo, but Jean was gone and no one knew where or why. She'd picked up her check about 4 weeks after we'd left, quit her job and disappeared off the face of the earth for all intents and purposes.

Why? Again know one knew. The bossman at the Golden Stallion said she started putting on weight before she quit. Was she pregnant? Only Jean knew why she left.

Epilog:

Years later I was seated in my chair, my wife was asleep in our bedroom (I'm a night owl), with a brandy alongside and my pipe in my hand. The radio was playing old 1940's & 1950's music, and my thoughts began to drift. 

My mind turned back to those early days in my Naval career when thoughts of Jean sprang to mind and I suddenly experienced an epiphany.

I knew and understood the gifts she had given me from our relationship.

When she took my hand or fingers and placed them here or there she was communicating, the same way she was communicating when she asked me to kiss her or touch her somewhere. When she asked me to slow down or keep doing what I was doing she was not only communicating but at the same time teaching me to be patient. When she screamed and her body stiffened up and then shuddered in climax she was really communicating because she was giving me a Bravo Zulu (well done).

Yes she'd taught me how to arouse her with kisses, caresses, and touches. But patience and communication were the greatest lessons I'd learned from Jean.

One other great pleasure Jean introduced me to that was as pleasurably sinful as a cup of coffee spiked with Irish cream and chocolate and topped with whipping cream was to slide my naked body up to the back of my bed-mate while she scooted her back against me and wiggle her butt until she had my little sailor just where she wanted it. 

Once she was satisfied she reached behind her to take hold of my hand, lay it palm up on her nethermost breast, and wrap my fingers on the uppermost one. To make sure I stayed that way she would curl her hand around mine and sigh (purr?). Sensuously and pleasurably joined we would gently fall into sweet Morpheus' arms.

The strange part of it was that my late wife did exactly the same thing. Is it built into the female gene pool? 

Jean wherever you disappeared to, I hope you had, and if you're still with us, continue to have the best life possible. Thank you for all you gave to me and taught me. You still occupy a special place in my memory locker.

sign me A Horny 'ol Sailor 30-

The Barmaid



The barmaid strutted out from behind the bar, a tray balanced on her dainty hand. Four stout glasses of whiskey were strategically placed on it, forming a diamond. Her breasts, pushed up a ridiculous amount by her corset bounced hypnotically in tandem with her footsteps on the hard saloon floor. More than one eye hungrily devoured her shapely frame as she jiggled to a table with four gunslingers sitting at it. The men blatantly stared at the soft curve of her breasts under her dress, and admired the way her dress flowed across her ample hips and well toned thighs. She paid no mind though. She was used to being the object of many a lonely trail-hand's affection. She relished it, making all these men ridiculously hard, knowing they would not see a woman of her caliber again in a very long while, if ever. She agitated their condition further by using her feminine wiles to goad them on, and then drift away, leaving them with a throbbing hard-on, and her with an apron full of bills. She expertly distributed the drinks to the cowboys, smiling curtly as they undressed her with their greedy eyes. She deliberately leaned forward, further than a modest woman should, delivering them more than a fair eyeful of her creamy bosom. Her smile widened further upon appraising their awe-fulled lusty expressions. 

"Here's your drinks, boys." She cooed as she clinked the glasses down upon the old worn table. The smoke from their cigars danced about her, heightening her mysticism, her curves, her femininity. The gunslingers threw their bills upon her tray, a fair tip included. One of them, a particularly foul smelling one, grasped her arm. She could smell the syrupy reek of strong whiskey 

on his breath. 

"How's about you and me go somewhere private to...talk?" The man said, revealing a checkerboard grin. His grip tightened and he waved a modest fistful of bills in front of her nose. She shot him a cynical look, one eyebrow cocked. 

"I'm no common whore sir..." The barmaid said haughtily, breaking the cowboy's grip and folding her arms across her chest, accentuating her breasts even more. She pursed her lips and shot him a teasing look. The cowhand leapt from his seat, grabbing her around the waist and drawing her close. He gazed into her emerald green eyes, and attempted to rub a clumsy drunken hand through her curly hair, which was tied up in a no-nonsense manner. It framed her face wonderfully, the cowboy thought, although not as eloquently as it was written here. She slapped his hand away. 

"You never had a man like me before!" He drawled, continuing his advances, pawing her breasts. He began to pull up her skirt, in front of all the patrons of the saloon, possibly hoping to rub her sweet thighs, possibly to lay his fumbling hands upon her sweet mound. In a flash, the firey barmaid acted. She slammed her forehead into the cowboy's crooked nose. A sickening crunch sounded above the saloon's white noise. Her curls bobbed crazily as the cowboy's head snapped back, a suprised, pained look in his eyes. Droplets of blood arced through the air, scintillating hypnotically in the dim saloon's light. She drew back and delivered a hook punch that a prize fighter would have been proud of. It connected soundly with his cheek. Her entire dainty arm vibrated from the impact, and the cowboy spiraled to the dusty wooden floor. The cowboy's friends stared, mouths agape, not knowing what to think or how to react. A few nearby patrons began to laugh and clap at her antics. A few regulars smiled, knowing that laying their hands on Mickey the barmaid led to disasterous results. Some even bore scars from her reactions to their advances. 

"You...bitch!" He gurgled through the hand covering his face, vainly trying to staunch the flow of blood that oozed through his dirty fingers. 

"If two hits sends you to the floor, I'm not even going to show you what I can do with this!"

She said as she flirtly lifted her skirts for a brief moment, revealing her frilly undergarments to whoever may be looking. She turned, her smile reaching towards her ears as she gave a polite curtsy to the hooting and hollering patrons of the Diamondback Saloon. The injured man jerkily rose to his feet, his friends still staring blankly at the scene, their minds just grasping the occurances. 

"Damn whore! I'll teach you to mess with Porter!" In the blink of an eye, the gunslinger's trained hand darted towards his gun. She whipped around, too late to react. She closed her eyes, waiting for the red-hot burning lead to enter her deliciously shaped body. The roar of a .45 filled the tavern, lighting the dim atmosphere with it's destructive power. The saloon fell silent. She expected to open her eyes to a vision of the afterlife, but instead, she saw the same dirty cowboy, staring at the corner, his gunbelt on the floor, his hand grasping numbly at where his gun should have been holstered. His mouth opened and closed as a fish pulled out of a lake would have been. 

"How the...?" The dirty cowboy whispered as he stared blankly at a man, sitting by himself at a table in the back of the saloon. 

All eyes were on the rugged stranger in the corner, being that he was clearly the one that performed the deed. The stranger sat, his pistol held in front of him, plumes of smoke lazily dancing from its barrel to the ceiling of the saloon. The stranger's hat was pulled down across his eyes, looking as if he's shot blind...but that was impossible right? There's no way this man could have shot this cowboy's belt off from 30 paces, even taking great care in aiming! Impossible. 

"Oh!" The stranger in the corner spouted in a mockingly condescending tone. "I meant to shoot you in your yellow heart! Pulling leather on a woman, with her back turned. Tsk tsk tsk.." The stranger tipped his hat back with the barrel of his smoking .45, revealing a set of piercing, ice blue eyes. The eyes of a killer. Those eyes were cold, but she could see the sparks mirthfully dancing behind them, the eyes of a man who knows he is a superior specimen. "Must be all the whisky, setting my aim off." He mused as he cocked the hammer of his big pistol back. It clicked loudly as it set, echoing through the silent tavern seemingly as loudly as the gunshots he fired themselves. He smiled wanly. 

"I've got 4 shots left." The stranger said, with a keen smile upon his rugged, trail-worn face. "That's one for you, and each of your friends' foreheads." Mickey the barmaid marvelled at how soft this killer's voice was. He said each word with a punctual finality, the phrasing of a man who expected to die at any moment. Outwardly, she attempted to keep her tough-girl facade going, but inside, especially on the parts that counted, she longed for this handsome, honorable stranger. "If you cowards do anything but tuck your tails between your legs and ride out of town, the coffin maker is gonna have some work to do. You hear me?" The stranger asked, his voice still retaining that neutral, 'nice weather we're having!' tone. Worldessly, the dirty cowboy and his posse of three gathered their things and silently plodded out of the tavern. The dirty cowboy attempted to retain some of his manhood by shooting the stranger a dirty look, but the dirty cowboy's eyes unconsciously found the floor very quickly. A moment or two passed, then all that could be heard was the muffled 'clip-clop' sound of the quartet leaving town. Whispered coversation broke out, then rose into the normal rabble. The stranger slowly pulled the empty shell casings out of his pistol, reloaded them with fresh cartridges and dropped his weapon back into it's holster. Mickey the barmaid was none too pleased with this turn of events. She did not like being protected. She was tough, she was rough, she survived this frontier life without relying on some incredibly sexy gunslinger. She stomped up to him, red faced and flustered. The stranger sipped his bourbon, paying her no mind. 

"Excuse me!" She hissed, her brow lowered and her tone menacing. 

"You're welcome." The handsome stranger said, a smirk creeping up the corners of his mouth.

"Ex-c-cuse me?" She stammered. She was taken aback by his cool gaze, and the confidence with which he composed himself. 

"I said that you're welcome. For saving your life." He swirled the whiskey around his rock glass absentmindedly. His smirk threatened to break into a toothy grin. The barmaid composed herself, and shot him daggers. 

"I can take care of myself, sir." She almost pouted. 

"You can dodge bullets, ma'am?" He asked, his piercing gaze finding hers. The blue of his eyes looked about the same as the feeling of jumping into a lake in late September. 

"What?"

"I asked if you were quick enough to dodge bullets. I can see that you are a bonafide cocktease, but can you dodge slugs?" The stranger asked, his gaze never wavering. Her eyes widened. 

"I am not a cocktease! I am--"

"Ma'am, with all due respect, you know how beautiful you are, you know how well shaped you are. You flaunt it in front of these lonely boys and are just tickled pink by shooting them down." His eyes drifted from her eyes to the drastic roundess of her breasts, down even further to her toned legs. It took her a moment, stunned by the fact that this gunslinger called her game so easily. 

"It's not my fault--" She began. 

"I know I may be interrupting a bit, but you aren't answering my question. Can you dodge slugs?" He asked again, softly. She glared at him hotly, defeated. 

"I reckon not."

"Well then I suppose I saved your life then, right?" He tiled his head, his smirk widening into a sly smile. 

"I don't need your help mister. I've taken care of myself for a long time now, and I don't need your assistance!" She growled the last word, making it sound like an insult. She tried to turn, but he held her with his cold gaze, the same smile still pasted on his weathered, lined face. He gave her an interrogative look. His overwhelming confidence seemed to whirl within her abdomen, alighting a fire within. "Ok. Fine." She said, her proud shoulders slumping. "You win. You saved my life. That cowboy would've shot me in my pretty back if you didn't come along and save the damsel in distress! Is that what you wanted me to say?"

"No."

"What then?"

"When do you get off of work?"

"Fifteen minutes." She said, attempting to put on an indignant face. 

"Have a drink with me." The handsome stranger rumbled said, his cool, smiling eyes never leaving hers. 

"After I get off, fine. I'll be right over." She found herself smiling, despite her tough act. The handsome stranger grinned at this, seeming satisfied. "What's your name, stranger?" He looked into his glass of boubon, it's contents nearly gone. He looked up again, his shooter's eyes boring into hers, sending yet another chill down her spine. 

"Call me Dean." He smiled. 

"Well Dean, I'm Mickey. Pleased to make your acquaintance." She was horrified that her tough girl act was slipping away, but at the same time, she loved it. She strutted away, waggling her firm rear in a practiced manner as she made her way back to the bar to finish her shift. Dean drained his glass, rolled a cigarette with his leathery hands, and waited. 

* * * * * * * * * * * 

The barmaid absentmindedly continued on with her shift, stealing glances at Dean every chance she got. She marvelled at how fluidly he moved. Everything he did, he did with the utmost grace and precision. The man did not waste a single motion. She couldn't help but daydream about how he would use that agility between the covers! She watched as he rolled a cigarette, his fingers dancing across the paper, rolling it into a tight tube, with a flap of paper exposed. He dragged his tongue across the paper, in an excruciatingly slow manner, using his saliva as a makeshift adhesive. She was blatantly staring at him now, either not noticing or not caring about the wetness blooming under her skirt. To her horror, she realized that his captivating eyes were aimed directly at hers. A hot feeling crept into her cheeks as Dean popped his cigarette into his mouth. Only a slight grin graced his strong lips, but his eyes smiled warmly and widely. He nodded towards her hands. She furrowed her brow and cocked her head, showing her misunderstand. His grin split open, revealing a roguish crooked smile. He gestured again, and she finally looked down. She let down a girlish squeal to see that the beer mug she was filling had been overflowing for some time now. She flipped the tap, and cleaned it up, her face as red as a beet. The man laughed heartily. It was a good, soulful sound. 

* * * * * * * * * * * 

Mickey walked towards Dean's table, a rock glass in each hand. He grabbed the brim of his hat with two weathered fingers and gave her a gentlemanly nod, his eyes gleaming mirthfully. She slid him one of the glasses. He accepted it with a nod, then leaned back and threw his legs up, propping his spurred boots on the table. 

"Thank you kindly ma'am." He said, repeating the gesture he'd given her a moment earlier. 

"Well, it's the least I could do for the man that saved my life." She said, attempting to edge her words with venom, but they came out a bit too breathy and sultry for her tastes. Dean took a long pull off of his drink, exhaling his satisfaction as he set the glass down. 

"I couldn't let some mangy cowpoke like that shoot such a pretty little thing such as yourself, now could I?" He said. She opened her mouth, ready to spout some more tough-girl rhetoric, but his cocked eyebrow made her reconsider. She smiled prettily. Mickey felt like such a lady around this handsome stranger, around this true man. She had been with a few men, and rejected the advances of hundreds more, but this one was a MAN, in every sense of the word...well, she could only speculate on a few facets of his manliness, but if things progressed as they were at this rate, she would be well acquainted with them before the night was through. 

"No, you couldn't." She finally purred. He smiled at this, his gaze never leaving hers. He took the rest of his drink down in one mighty gulp. She responded in kind, draining hers in one gulp, winking slyly at him. His eyebrows raised at this. 

"Well. Looks like you can handle your liquor." He leaned forward. "I wonder if you'll be able to handle a tall drink of what I have to offer." He stared at her in a matter-of-fact manner. It was Mickey that raised her eyebrows this time. Without missing a beat, she leaned forward, her thin dress slipping low, revealing more than an eyeful of her milky skin to Dean. 

"I can handle more than any one man can dish out, honey." She crooned, her face beaming with pride. The smile persisted on his face, not at all shaken. She loved how much his brilliant, quick eyes contrasted his lined, dusty face. 

"That sounds like a challenge to me ma'am, and if there's one thing I absolutely love, it's a good challenge. Enough talk. I have a room across the street, let's go."

He reached in the pocket of his duster and drew out a wad of bills, and tossed it on the table. "Well?" He asked, standing up. She didn't even stop to think twice. She stood just as quickly, her breasts following a second behind, giving a hearty jiggle that caught his eye. 

"Let's." She said. He walked out of the Diamondback, Mickey following closely behind. 

* * * * * * * * * * * 

They walked onto the dusty road side by side. Most of the shops were in the midst of closing for the day. The sun was taking its agonizingly slow nightly dip into that space just past the horizon, basking the frontier town in a hot orange-red hue. People tottered this way and that, wearily finishing their daily grind. The gunslinger abruptly wrapped a lean muscled arm around her thing shoulders, drawing her close. She didn't resist. They walked, and she took in his scent. It was an intoxicating blend of scents. Leather, sweat, the dust of the trail, gunpowder...but the smell of death was most prevalent. This man made his dime killing people, that she could tell. She broke the comfortable silence between them. 

"So what do you do...for a living?" She asked. He paused, most likely considering how to answer Mickey's question.

"You could say...that I'm a freelance law-man." He said finally, satisfied with his response. 

"A bounty hunter?" Her eyes widened. 

"That's one way to say it. I ride into town, take care of the local law's biggest problems, take my money, and ride on." He said casually. 

"So basically, what you're saying, is that you come into town, kill notorious bandits and their gangs singlehandedly, collect your money and ride off into the sunset?" She asked in an incredulous manner.

"Kill or capture. Most of 'em don't take kindly to the idea of surrender. Most of the time I convince them with lead." He said this blankly, in the tone of a man who killed for a people for a living, because that is, in fact, what he did. For some odd reason, she found herself incredibly turned on by this. This assassin, this murderer, this MAN, who travelled the dusty roads from town to town killing people, wanted to bed her. Again, the familiar wetness crept down her thighs. Her undergarmets were horribly soaked. The travelling killer, known as Dean, must've picked up on this, as he turned to her, and stared deep into her eyes. Grabbing her shoulders, he kissed her deeply and soundlessly. She closed her eyes, and savored his taste, relished in the way their tongues danced and intermingled on the border where their lips connected. She felt so small, so protected under his strong grasp. She was lost in the moment, he was not. His hunter's instinct and reflexes saved both of their lives. Out of nowhere, his strong gentle hands became iron as he shoved her onto the rough wooden planks of a storefront. 

"DOWN!" Dean screamed. Gunfire roared from across the road, and Dean grunted. She felt a few hot droplets of blood fall upon her face. Dean dove, tucking his legs into a roll and drawing his widowmaker. More gunfire barked its deadly song, splintering the wood of the storefront behind them. Townsfolk ran for cover, some screamed. Mickey was one of them. She couldn't help it, the hornet's buzz of the slugs flying above her head broke her resolve. She spotted the dirty cowboy from earlier, and his three friends, all of their guns blazing in her and Dean's direction. The dirty cowboy known as Porter had a triumphantly maniacal look plastered upon his ugly face. Dean completed his roll, mindless of the death being thrown at him. She looked upon Dean then, and is was a sight she would never forget. He drew his revolver, and moved as rapidly as a rattler's strike as he brought it to bear. His face retained this peaceful expression, this calm, 'ho-hum' expression as he threw lead back at them. 

POPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOP! His gun roared, and just as suddenly as it had started, the gunfire from across the street stopped. Without a word, Dean stood, opening the drum of his revolver and dumping the spent cartridges on the dusty wooden planks that made up the porch of the town's general store. He walked toward Porter and his posse's still bodies, his spurs jingling as he made his way. Mickey drew herself to a sitting position, her jaw bobbing up and down, attempting to find something to say. Nothing came. He reloaded his death-dealer, and stood above Porter. Porter was grasping his gut. He was the only one left alive. 

"Please...mister....." She heard Porter wheeze. Dean leveled his revolved at Porter's head. Mickey closed her eyes. Dean's revolved roared once more, and Porter was no more. After a few moments, she felt Dean's strong hands under her arm. 

"C'mon now ma'am...I'm not letting you back down from your little...challenge..." Dean said, smiling. Her eyes were drew to the gunshot wound which had torn through the meat of his upper arm. 




The Barmaid



In this one, which is set in Yorkshire, England in the summer of 1976, the pub barmaid begins a naughty little game. She likes to show off, and she likes to watch him play with his cock. The thing is she's also his father's girlfriend - but that doesn't stop her from enjoying her fun.

As usual I hope you enjoy this little piece. If you do, send feedback; if you don't like it, let me know why, but make it constructive criticism please. Feedback can be in public comments below; PM in Lit forums; or email. If you want a response back from me email is best.

There may be errors in the text, if so, forgive me.

GA - Playa del Carmen, Mexico - 2nd June 2012.

*

Tuesday nights we'd play the game, always by her rules. Tuesday night, every second week. We always waited for twenty minutes to make sure he'd gone -- he'd come back that once and scared the shit out of us both, and so we learned to wait.

It had evolved over the course of a few months during the hot summer of 1976, this game, and in my more lucid moments, when my chest wasn't tight with anticipation, or all my attention focussed on her, the barmaid, I recognised how crazy we were to play it. I wondered what would happen if the old man found out what was going on in his own pub between his son and a barmaid -- not just any old barmaid either, Joy wasn't just my father's employee, she was his girlfriend.

As it happened I'd find out what my father thought, but of course, by then, things had changed and the worry had been unnecessary.

Dad owned the pub, had built up the business through a combination of a windfall inheritance -- the seed money to invest in the place he'd always wanted -- hard work, and an ability to read people. The business grew, slowly at first until word got round that Dad ran a good pub. He knew how to make the pub work; knew his clientele. What did most of the farm labourers, factory workers, general tradesmen and occasional rogue appreciate with their evening pint and game of dominoes? Simple, they wanted decent ale, peace from the missis to talk bollocks about the world's rights and wrongs, and some close-to-the-knuckle banter with an attractive barmaid; a good-looking woman who could pull a pint, with a broad mind and a quick retort when the lads went too far with the chat-up; someone who didn't mind showing a bit of skin and who didn't object to a little ogling. In those days, in that provincial town, chauvinism was a fact of life, and my father read it just right, a good spot off the market square at the peripheral edge of a constable's interest, yet close enough for the lads to head for after work. 

And two of the sexiest barmaids in the white rose county.

Joy, his girlfriend, who lived with us, was eighteen months older than me, not a great gap, but at our age in '76, she twenty-one, me just short of twenty, our attitudes and experiences differed hugely. Two years ahead of me in school, I recalled her as being the loudest, the brashest, and the most popular; whereas I kept to myself and had few friends. 

'I know you,' Joy had sniffed, eyes narrowing while she tried to place me. She peered at me through her cigarette smoke, eventually nodding and grinning. 'Yeah, I remember you,' she said vaguely. 'Didn't know your dad owned this place though.' She looked around with apparent approval, while I tried in vain to keep my eyes from making a heady descent into her cleavage. 'I'm on a month's trial,' Joy added, smirking when she caught the direction of my eyes as they returned from the giddy plunge of her bosom.

I blushed to the roots of my hair.

Three weeks later, ostensibly because of an awkward bus timetable after Joy's evening shifts, she moved in. At first she slept in one of the bed and breakfast bedrooms, but quickly made the journey up the stairs to the third landing -- the private rooms at the top of the old building -- and into Dad's bedroom.

Not too long after that the game started.

It was one of those Tuesday evenings, the precursor to summer where the daylight hours stretched to 8pm. Joy's shift pattern and mine converged every second Tuesday, meaning we were both free from the bar. A knock on my bedroom door lifted my attention from the accounts. My father had plans for expanding his empire and I was being groomed as a manager. I was using the opportunity to scan the numbers when the floorboard on the landing just outside my bedroom door creaked, which broke my concentration from the figures on the page. My mind then pictured a figure of a different sort, and my heartbeat quickened as it always did when I thought of Joy. It could only be her at that part of the house, Dad was out and nobody else had business up there.

There was a knock at the door. 

'Let's get this over with,' Joy said brusquely, her parochial accent mashing consonants when, at my call, she pushed open the door. Draped in nothing but a towel, ignoring my baffled, blinking expression, she went on. 'Everywhere I go down in that bloody bar downstairs ...' She pointed an accusing finger. 'You've got your eyes on me arse or me tits all the time.' Instantly I blushed hotly. There was no defence. How did I plead? Guilty of course. My mouth gaped, opening and closing but with no accompanying words. 'So let's just get this over and done,' Joy repeated.

What the hell was she talking about? Get what over and done?

'Uh ...' I managed eventually.

'Here,' Joy spat. 'Have a good, long look ... Take a fuckin' photo if you have to, but mebbe this will keep your eyes of me tits when I'm tryin' to work.' The towel parted. My eyes boggled. Joy stood naked, her pale body magnificently exposed.

Lust flared hot inside me. My cock tingled and thickened of its own accord. In my mind I saw myself launch at Joy, my hands all over her body, squeezing those big jugs, feeling the crisp curls of her bush in my palm. I saw myself stabbing into her with hard, virile strokes, plunging my erection deep, eliciting moans and groans of pleasure from her lips.

But what I did in reality was sit and gawp amid books with columns of numbers spread across my narrow bed. This, even at my advanced age, was the first -- proper, in the flesh, living, breathing -- nude female I'd ever seen.

'Get a good look,' Joy continued. 'Make sure you get a good, long eyeful.' She pirouetted, turning a slow three-sixty, treating me to a leisurely perusal of her derriere. 'Had enough?' she asked, towel clamped in one fist, her head tilted as she regarded me intently. 'Seen what you need to see?'

Actually, no, I could have stared at her for a good half-an-hour longer. Perhaps she could strike a few open-legged poses for me? But what I did was gulp and nod, my mind still catching up with what I'd seen.

Joy mimed a brisk wrist action. 'Have fun then.'

The bedroom door slammed shut. I heard the floorboard creak under Joy's feet. For the next five full minutes I just sat there on my bed, immobile.

Joy went about business as normal while I did my best to avoid her. I thought what she'd done was extreme, but her actions had stopped this puppy dog from sniffing around after her. On the shifts we worked together I kept my eyes to myself and got on with the job. What did irk me however, although I'd never dare say anything out loud, was that Joy seemed to resent only my perusal of her physical charms, anyone else could get an eyeful of her curves whenever they chose. She'd play along, feigning innocence, when some leering patron requested an item from the lowest shelf, which invariably necessitated in Joy crouching or bending, giving those assembled at the bar the perfect opportunity to peer down her blouse, which I might add was always a button undone further than was completely decent. She had no qualms about reaching up to the highest point, perhaps to yank a packet of peanuts from the cardboard rack, almost showing the curve of her buttocks under her short skirt. Paying customers got the privilege, I could just lump it.

Still, in my bedroom, at night, I'd call to mind that unhurried twirl of Joy's nude body. I'd picture those breasts in their defiance of Newtonian theorem as they'd swung and swayed with her movements, slowly teasing my erection while fantasising about what lay beneath the woman's luxuriant pubic bush. My ejaculate would squirt from the eye of my cock, making me gasp and bite down on the cry of ecstasy as I came. Always, in my mind's eye, there was Joy, grinning and posing, holding her breasts towards me in invitation. 'Spunk on my tits,' she'd mutter,' eyes gleaming. 'Come on my big tits ...'

For two weeks I kept out of her way. Come the Tuesday I hid in my bedroom. It would be too painfully awkward to spend any time alone with Joy.

Dad left the pub, just like he did every Tuesday. 'Business,' he'd announce, and then leave. Tuesday was one of two market days in the town, cattle, sheep and pigs, and my father ran an unofficial bookmaking business that was used primarily by stockmen and farmers betting on the horse racing at Wetherby, York, or Thirsk. He was too canny to use the pub as the premises for the operation, it being a shade greyer than the law liked, so Dad used to conduct the payouts in other pubs close by. The upshot being that I was left alone in the upstairs flat ... with Joy. No sooner had Dad slammed the back door than I heard the creaking floorboard. Then came the knock.

'I just wanted to talk to you,' Joy called when I asked what she wanted. This time I didn't invite her in, she could say what she had to say through the door panel and then bugger off. 'Let me in, Paul, I wanted to say sorry.'

'You just said it,' I responded. I was brave with the door between us; it was when I was face-to-face with her that I lost the power of controlled speech. 'Would you go away now, Joy?'

'Come on, Paul,' the woman insisted. 'I'll get us a couple of drinks from downstairs. Meet me in the living room.'

I had no intention of making the rendezvous, or so I thought. However five minutes later and I had a pint in my hand. Joy swirled the gin in her glass and the ice tinkled. She sat opposite me in a worn armchair -- Dad was never one to spend much on the furnishings in the flat, most of his profits went straight back into the business.

'I'm sorry,' Joy began, her eyes sliding to the flickering image on the muted television. 'I got carried away with myself.' She reached for her cigarettes and lit up. 'Getting this job, then this ... thing with your dad. I suppose it went to me head and I thought I was queen bee or summat.' Joy looked uncomfortable, as though the apology and explanation left a bitter taste. 'And what I did to you the other week. That was cruel.' She looked at me over the rim of her glass and, after a delicate sip and a deep draw on the cigarette, asked a question. 'Are you a virgin, Paul?' Speech was unnecessary, my red face and silence answered for me. 'Oh my ...' Joy said, her smile benign, and I understood there was no nastiness in her words. She appeared to think for a moment. Her mouth opened, on the cusp of speech, then closed. She repeated the action, and then gathered her thoughts by sipping her drink and drawing at the cigarette. 'So ... The other week,' she nodded in the direction of the hall, towards my bedroom. 'My little ... uhm ... display.' Joy sucked at the cigarette again, this time vehemently, as though angered. And perhaps she was angry, but this time I sensed it was more with herself than anything I could be held to account for. 'Have you seen a pair of tits before, Paul?' she asked finally. 'Real ones.' Again my silence and hot face said it all. Joy looked at me with an odd expression, and then shocked me completely by saying: 'Would you like to see me naked again?' Thoughts and emotions welled inside me. An image of my father sprang to mind. This was his girlfriend ... The memory of Joy's body, youthful and fecund snapped into focus, and I recalled instantly, on the back of that recollection, my masturbatory fantasies based on the experience of her that other Tuesday. I looked into her face and saw the woman she'd become, her future self -- the woman I'd meet again thirty years hence, when we were both different people. I saw no artifice there, this was no trick, not some cruel joke she'd thought up because she was bored.

Her question had been if I wanted to see her naked again; and of course my answer was yes. But still I couldn't articulate a single, intelligible word.

Without waiting for any clear signal from me -- it could have been a long wait -- Joy leaned forward, placed the glass deliberately on the table in front of us, ground the remains of her cigarette into the ash-tray, and heaved herself out of the deep chair. She began to take off her clothes. As she did so, and as I sat there in slack-jawed immobility, paralysed with disbelief, Joy continued her monologue.

'I did like it when you looked at me, Paul,' she began as her fingers fiddled with the buttons of the wide-legged trousers she wore. I especially appreciated the way the cloth was tightly moulded to her buttocks, so snug that I fancied I could make out the cat's-face smile of her vulva where the material wedged against the front of her body between her legs. Joy wriggled her hips as the waistband slid down her thighs. I stared open-mouthed at the delicate membrane covering what I knew to be her thick pubic bush. Joy kicked off her shoes one after the other, chunky wedges that lay like victims of a road traffic accident where they landed, haphazard in their disarray. 'I get a thrill out of men looking at me. I love to see how hungry they are for me. It's like I have power over 'em ...' Joy's tee-shirt joined the carnage on the floor. All that remained was her bra.

'Oh ...' I managed to croak. My stare must have been burning holes in Joy's body. I was surprised her brassiere didn't burst into flames.

'Men get so stupid,' Joy continued. 'And over what -- big tits?' Joy's chest, those big tits of hers, threatened me as her hands reached around to undo the clasp. 'I don't get it meself.' She shrugged, breasts jiggling with that movement, trembling in such a way, with such hypnotic power that, if I could find the words to explain, I'd tell Joy just what it was that held men spellbound.

All I did was groan and clamp my mouth closed when I realised I was close to drooling like a simpleton.

'Did you wank off, Paul?' Joy's voice, as the straps of her bra hung loose, with her hand holding the garment close to her body was low and throaty, a sign of her own arousal even though I was to callow to recognise it. 'Did you pull your cock and think of me?'

That evening, in the living room, Joy coerced me into re-enacting exactly what it was I'd done. 'You can look but don't touch,' she purred.

But I wanted to touch -- oh, God, how desperately I craved to feel her skin ...

'Please, Joy,' I whimpered as I yanked my cock. 'Let me touch you.'

'No,' came her emphatic response. 'Look at me and pull it. Pull your cock. Is it nice? Does it feel good, Paul?'

'Please,' I whined, staring and gulping while I yanked myself, my eyes devouring all her. A cough caught in my throat. The surging inevitable surging sensation tickled the core of my cock. 'Oh ... Joy,' I blurted, my hips jerking convulsively. 'Oh ... Fuck ...'

'On my tits!' the girl yelled, suddenly realising that I was about to spoil the furnishings with tell-tale spatterings. 'Spunk on my tits,' she cried again. Of course on this occasion, unlike the desire she'd expressed during my fantasies when exhorting me to cover her with goo, Joy offered herself as a target to halt any possibility that I'd come on the cushions and give my father cause for suspicion.

Although, when my cock finally ceased chucking viscous paste about, Joy did seem somewhat wide-eyed with surprise at the volume of my outpouring.

'Fucking hell. Paul,' she muttered, hands moving to halt the slide of my ejaculate from her tits to the carpet. 'look at the fuckin' mess.'

She left me there, gasping, cock showing no sign of wilting as it dribbled spunk from its single eye as I lay slumped in the chair into which I'd collapsed.

The game had begun.

***

She cornered me in the cellar as I changed a barrel. 'Just behave normally,' Joy whispered, eyes furtive. 'You're grinning at me like the bloody village idiot.

'OK,' I promised, nodding. 'But ...'

'Tuesday,' Joy interjected, anticipating my question. 'Yes.'

She left me to the barrel and my fantasies.

Tuesday came and the door slammed, which signalled Dad's departure. I heard the floorboard creak. My heart leapt in my chest at the sound. She didn't knock this time, just flung open the door. A strange feeling, like my guts melting, slithered deep and low. She was already nude.

Joy signalled with a wave of her arm, 'Come on.' I followed at a near trot, eager as a puppy. 'In here, she indicated.' I followed her enticing backside as she walked into the bathroom. 'Are you hard yet?' My trembling fingers struggled with my belt, button, and zip. Of course I was stiff; my cock had thickened as soon as the floor creaked outside my bedroom door. 'Show me,' Joy whispered, keeping her voice low even though nobody else was in the flat. I could hear pub sounds from below. The place was usually busy on market day.

There was no preamble this time, no lingering, Joy got right down to business. 'Wank,' she instructed. 'You can look at me, but no touching.' She walked to the toilet, my first thought was that Joy was going to piss in front of me, but she simply dropped the lid onto the rim and sat down. 'Look at me and pull that cock,' she murmured. 'Spunk into the bath.'

So I did. I worked my fist along my erection and soaked up all of her through my eyes. Joy played her part well, pouting at me, blowing kisses, letting her legs lewdly fall apart to reveal that hirsute place between her legs. 

Years later, when I met her again by accident in a club in London in the 1990s, I discovered she then favoured the waxed look, she'd stopped smoking too, but in 1976 our Joy was au natural.

'Can't I just feel them?' I asked, desperation cracking my voice as I yanked hard. 'Please, Joy ...'

'Just do it,' the woman dismissed my request. 'Maybe another time,' she added.

The possibility of touching Joy's jugs, albeit only a vague acquiescence, forced me over the edge; that and the way she hefted her breasts in her palms, her forefingers teasing her nipples to thick points. Under Joy's intense stare I grunted and hunched forward. Pleasure surged through me as I came. Sweet relief from the agony of my yearning came as Joy cried out in delight when she watched and heard my semen spattering against the porcelain bathtub.

'Rinse that mess away,' the girl instructed peremptorily. She rose from her throne, again leaving abruptly, just like the previous occasion. I stood and stared at the door through which she'd left, my cock slowly wilting, the inevitable dribble sliding from the slit.

The third time was when Dad did an about turn. Joy, as was becoming the pattern, was at my door as soon as my father left. We both heard the latch snick and stared at each other. We were both naked, Joy in the doorframe of my bedroom, with me standing at the foot of my bed. Joy shot into my room like a bullet when Dad called up the stairs.

'Forgot my wallet,' he yelled in a voice as big as his fists.

'Just off for a bath,' I ad-libbed, making up any excuse for my semi-clothed state as he paused on the landing and looked into my room. My heart was hammering and I struggled for breath. If he came into the room, if he decided to just step inside he'd see his naked girlfriend huddled behind the door. From my position I could see both of them -- my father with a fat wallet in his hand, and Joy crouched there with huge, frightened eyes. 'You seen Joy?' Dad asked. 




The Barmaid



I feigned ignorance. 'Not since this afternoon,' I replied. Could he not hear the tremor in my voice? Did my face not scream my guilt? She's hiding behind the door ... naked! She poses nude for me every other Tuesday while I ogle her tits and bush and wank off ...

'Fuckin' hell ...' Joy gasped, collapsing onto my bed next to me when the door slammed downstairs. She giggled. 'He almost caught us,' she muttered, shaking her head and turning huge eyes towards me. A light shone there, Joy looked like she actually enjoyed the close call. A laugh bubbled from her chest. 'You covered up so fuckin' quick,' she spluttered. 'Jumped like a scalded cat.' She rolled on the bed, laughter, uncontrolled now, coming in huge sobs. 'Your face ...' she managed before erupting again. 

I thought the scare would put her off, my hard-on had certainly wilted, but it appeared that, if anything, Joy was more excited than ever. When she'd calmed, and the laughter had abated to the occasional hiccup, Joy rolled off the bed.

'Make it hard,' she ordered, suddenly serious. I wriggled out of my jeans and, at Joy's order, lay on the bed. My cock rapidly recovered from the scare. 'Let me,' Joy said. She sat next to me, her body so close I could just reach out a hand and touch her. She leaned across me, her breasts swinging. Joy crossed her legs, sitting on the edge of the mattress, her torso hovering over my lap.

'Joy ...' I gurgled when her fingers closed around my girth. 'I ...'

'Shush,' the girl crooned. 'I know,' she said ambiguously. What did she know? How good it felt to have her holding me? How desperate I was to touch her? How close I was to spunking over her wrist and forearm at that slight pressure from her fingers?

She tugged at me for a time, perhaps a minute, maybe two. I watched her face as she coaxed the jizm from me. She stared at her handiwork, concentrating avidly, her eyes slipping to mine occasionally. Joy smiled at me during one of those momentary interludes. 'Just let it go,' she whispered.

'Joy,' I croaked again, my buttocks lifting from the bed.

The stuff showered down in an indiscriminate rain, spattering onto my skin and hers. I groaned and gulped as the pressure squeezed along my cock, great gobs of spunk arcing from me. 

I heard Joy squeal with delight. 'You come buckets,' she cried, her fingers still tight around my cock. 'I can't believe how much of this stuff you make.

Finally I lay gasping, spunk spattered across my chest and belly. Joy looked at me, stared right into my face and then smirked. Her eyes narrowed and her face twisted into a strange expression. She lifted her hand and I saw my ejaculate sliding over her wrist.

Then, to my surprise, the girl leaned forward and kissed my mouth. She broke away after the briefest of kisses, nothing more than a compression of her lips on mine. With that weird look on her face still, she slowly brought her arm up to her mouth. I gasped when she licked a strand of glistening jizm clinging to her wrist.

'See you in two weeks,' she said, winking.

And so it went on. My dad would leave, we'd wait the twenty minutes -- God I was so stiff with anticipation during the interlude. Then Joy would come to my door and we'd play the game however she wanted to. I'd wank, she'd watch; sometimes she'd do it to me, but I wasn't allowed to touch.

'Why?' I asked once. 'What are we doing this for?'

She thought about it for a moment, and then shrugged. 'I think I told you,' Joy said. 'I get a thrill out of it. Plus,' she added, 'you're a virgin. It's like I'm teaching you something.'

'But I want to touch you,' I wheedled. 'I want to touch you and kiss you and ...'

'I know what you want to do. But I think that if we do it, if we go that far, it'll spoil things.'

'What about my dad?' I don't know why I asked that, it just came out of me.

Joy shrugged again. 'What about him? It'll end soon. I'm not with him for ever.' She rolled onto her front, side by side with me on my bed, which, being single, meant that her skin was pressed close to mine. I looked at the twin mounds of her buttocks, saw myself kisses those cheeks. Joy hoisted herself onto her elbows, breasts squashed against the bed cover. 'I'm saving up,' she informed me. 'When I've got enough money I'll head for London. I want to open a bar there one day.'

It was a simple dream, and one she'd fulfil.

'Can I come too?' I asked.

'No,' Joy said quickly. 'Not a chance of it.' She reached an arm across my middle, touched my cock with her forefinger. 'Too many complications,' she explained wisely. My penis stirred at her touch. 'Anyway ...' Joy's finger traced lightly along the length of me. '... Just shut up and give me my show. Let me see how excited you can get before you blow the stuff.' Pushing off the bed and resting on her knees she kissed me. Something had changed; there was a subtle shift in the girl's attitude. I don't know what triggered it, and I didn't much care. Joy had kissed me. And then she uttered those words: 'You can touch me this time.'

And how I touched her. I knelt, facing her, one hand on my cock, the other going straight for her breasts.

'Gently,' Joy murmured. 'Touch me gently.'

I let go of my cock and ran my palms lightly over the taut globes of Joy's tits. They felt wonderful, nothing like how I'd imagined. I found her breasts taut and firm, not jelly-soft as I'd thought. Joy sighed when I moved a tentative hand down her body, moving over her soft tummy, getting closer to the thatch of hair between her legs. Her eyes opened and she stared at me when my fingers passed her belly button.

'Can I?' I whispered.

Without speaking Joy reached for my wrist. She pushed my hand firmly down. I gasped when I felt her bush under my fingers.

'Lick me there,' she murmured, her breasts squashing against my chest as she kissed my mouth. After that sweet first kiss with tongues she lay back on my bed and opened her legs to me. I could see, through the dark pubic hair, a hint of scarlet. 'Just here,' the woman indicated with a fingertip. She held herself open, pointing to where she wanted my tongue.

The first taste of her was slick and oily. It wasn't what I expected, didn't rally taste of anything, but the texture of her, the viscous slide of her arousal thrilled me. I lapped and prodded and tongued, even used my fingers, all at her murmured instruction. After some time a great sob and a cry burst from the woman and, at first, I thought I'd injured her in some way -- jagged her with a fingernail or something -- but then, after a long, slow sigh, Joy grunted and mumbled that she'd come.

I'd brought her off. Me! With my tongue. The first time I'd ever done it to a woman and she'd climaxed.

'Lie down on your back,' Joy ordered, shoving at my shoulder. 'It's time for you,' she muttered. To my slack-jawed delight the woman lifted one leg over my supine form. She held my member upright, squatting over me.

The picture of her hovering over me is still vivid after all these years. Her long hair brushing her shoulders; her face scrunched, serious with concentration. Joy's breasts hung, swaying in their fashion, a peculiar defiance of gravity. I can still picture her thighs, taut with effort; her narrow waist and voluptuous swell of her stomach; her pubic bush, matted with desire; dangling labia pouting thick and heavy and brushing the tip of my cock with a featherlike caress. 

I fell in love with her then, in the moment before.

This is it, I thought. Fuck ... she's going to ... And then I groaned as the molten heat of her engulfed my upright stalk.

'Let me fuck,' Joy moaned, her buttocks slapping onto my thighs. 'Just lie there and let me do it to you. When you feel ready just let it all go inside me. I'm on the pill, so it's safe. Just let me do it to you for your first time.'

I tried to take it all in. The sensation of her insides clenching around me; I wanted to watch her face, see her expression change while her own pleasure heightened. Her breasts shivered and shook, then swung wildly as Joy's passion flared brighter and she slammed against me time after time after time. I held her hips, thrusting upwards to meet her. I squeezed and mauled her breasts, sucking the long teats when Joy leaned down and offered them to me for that purpose.

Our movements grew frantic. The slap-slap of flesh upon flesh quickening, my hands on her buttocks now, jamming my cock up into her harder and deeper.

I couldn't maintain that metronomic drive. Not as horny as I was. Inevitably the cry came from me and I convulsed. Joy, knowing I was coming, leaned down to me and kissed me for as long as my cock spurted its load into her. 

'I love you,' I sighed when it was over.

Joy slumped forward, her body full length atop mine. 'Don't talk daft,' she murmured. She held me inside her for a long time. My erection didn't know it should be slackening and wanted to go again. Finally she rolled off me and my cock slid out of her body on a rush of semen.

We made love on four subsequent occasions after that. Each time I professed my affections she dismissed it out of hand.

In late September it ended. Joy's position as Dad's girlfriend was usurped by a new barmaid -- a fifty-year-old slattern with loose morals and looser legs. Not long after that, leaving me bereft, Joy left.

Dad went through several more barmaids and I learned the business. In time I too opened a pub, and then moved on to own several more. In 1995, at a brewers' exhibition in Earl's Court, I bumped into Joy. We became lovers again, this time going into partnership in a restaurant in an upcoming part of London.

She still enjoys the show I put on for her every now and again.



The Barmaid and The Teacher



It was the night of Saint Patrick's day, most of the town was out for the night to get wasted, party and have fun. I sat in a club, on a barstool for the first time. My eighteenth birthday just three days before. The club had gone all out and was themed green and gold for the occasion. The bar was littered with green and gold napkins, with sweating glasses of who knows what on top of them. Leprechaun confetti sprinkled carelessly about the floor, and every time the light caught on one of them it looked as if they winked. Above the dance floor where people practically dry fucked each other, were sparkling little paper clovers and gold coins hanging from fishing wire.

I sat on my stool feeling self-conscious, because of the tiny strap of fabric my friends called a barmaids dress. My size c tits were squeezed into a tight white frilled top, while the actual green and brown dress strangled my body until it spilled into waves around my hips coming to mid-thigh. My legs were covered in white thigh highs with cute little green bows at the end. The heels that I wore were unnecessarily too high, due to the fact that I'm 5'10". But I had to admit it did make my legs look absolutely amazing as they went on for miles before stopping at my round firm ass. I looked like a total slut.

I looked around for my friends who had made me come, only to ditch me for the first hotties they could get their hands on. I could care less for the attention though as I turned down every douche who approached me. So in annoyance I made my way outside, to head home. I was pissed that they just forgot about me like that. I didn't even want to go but they had made me. They said I needed to get out of the house and get my face out of a book for a while. I could've been home right now in the comfort of my bed and my nose buried deep inside of the latest book I had been reading.

Suddenly as I reached my car, I bumped into someone, falling on my ass and bouncing slightly. I could feel the rocks embedded deep into the cheeks of my ass and the palms of my hands. Outright cursing the person in my way, until I looked over at the jerk. 

"Sorry I'm a little tipsy right now."

I stiffened at that voice. The deep, sexy voice of my gorgeous English teacher, "Oh it's alright.."

As he tried to stand up and right himself I thought, how do i explain myself to my English teacher?! The gorgeous English teacher who was now drunk as hell and was standing in front of me with his hand out, tattoos covering every inch of his arm to his sleeve, as if expecting something. I looked at him confused before realizing that hand was there to help me up. I hesitated as I looked up at his gorgeous face, which always seemed to have that five o'clock shadow, those brown eyes that made my knees weak and my panties wet, and that frohawk which was spiked up with gel. I laid my hand in his and he pulled me up a little too hard. I lost my balance from those damn heels and I fell into his chest. My fingers splayed against it and I could feel the muscle moving underneath. I felt his hands on my waist as he lightly lifted me away from his body, and I reluctantly let my hand fall as it slid down his chest. I sighed at the loss and looked up at his towering frame.

"Thank you Mr. T, are you going in for a drink?"

"Don't worry about it, and call me Jake outside of school. Mr. T makes me feel old. But no, I think I had one too many... Do you think you could give me a ride home? My designated driver bailed on us."

"Yea no problem, I was just on my way to leave." I turned towards my car, and hit the button that unlocked the doors. I moved the leprechaun hat headband off the front seat that I had there and threw it in the back. Those things are such headaches. I started the car and pinched my legs tight together feeling my clit start to throb as my mind wandered to the sexy forbidden man who sat in the seat right next to mine.

I kept sneaking peeks at him every chance I got. I thought about those lips kissing my neck and those hands tracing the curves of my body as they made their way to my sensitive little bud. It's not like he noticed at all, his head lolled side to side as if he were sleeping, and he made the hottest, sexiest groaning noises I could possibly imagine. I kept him conscious enough to tell me how to get to his house, and he sleepily pointed me down each street until we stopped in front of a cute little one bedroom house.

I tapped his shoulder and told him that we were at his house and he blinked at me before mumbling something incoherent. I sighed and shook him more violently and his head shot upright and he stared at me in what I would assume a confused expression.

"You're home Mr.- Er I mean Jake." I got another mumble of some oh and some other jumbled mess of words and he opened the door and threw his legs over the side of the seat. As he stood up, I watched and laughed at he fell flat on his face into the grass. I turned my car off and stripped off my heels. Walking around the car I stopped to close the passenger door and help him stand up off of the ground. From there we made the long journey from the car to the front door of his house.

I couldn't help but be amused that he was struggling to put the key into the keyhole. He continued to struggle and curse at himself, so I stepped in front of him and grabbed his hand wrapping mine around it and steadily slide the key in. Letting go as he twisted and unlocked the door. I went to step back and leave but stopped abruptly as my back bumped into his chest and my face slammed into the arm he had propped up against the door jam. My breath caught in my throat as he pushed the door open to his house, his hand falling to my hip and face into the cradle of my neck, breathing in the smell of my hair. His cool breath fanned my neck as he exhaled and I shivered. He nudged me with his hips inside of his house and I stumbled in barefoot.

"Mr. T?" I asked nervously. I groaned quietly as he stepped in with me and slide his other hand to my waist as well. He kicked the door shut with his foot. I turned and stared at the door gulping. I looked at him as he stared down at me, a triumphant smile spreading across his face. I watched as his eyes roamed my body, clouded over with lust. He stepped towards me as I stepped backwards. I could see from the glint in his eye he enjoyed a chase and I was about to give him one.

"Mr. T what are you doing?" I snuck around his black leather couch to get something between us.

"What we've always wanted but never had the chance to do it." I stared at him wide eyed as he started to make his way around the couch, but I countered his movements, doing the opposite of everything he did.

"I don't know what you're talking about." I said innocently, running around his coffee table as he jumped over the side of the couch.

"We both know what I'm talking about." He reached for me but I dodged him and ran down a hallway that had three different doors with him hot on my heels. I ran to the door farthest from me hoping it was a bathroom only to stop dead in my tracks as I stared at the huge king sized bed in the middle of the room, covered in black sheets and blankets. I immediately ran back out of the door only to slam into Mr.T who wrapped his hands around my waist and picked me up, causing me to wrap my legs around his to stop from falling backwards. I gasped as I felt what I never thought I'd get to feel ever in my life. His huge cock.

I had seen the outline of it through his basketball shorts as he passed by me after school one day and I couldn't help but stare. Right now I couldn't help but moan. What was wrong with me?! This is my teacher, who I have been fantasizing about for months. Who right now has the biggest hard-on pressed right up against my clit and I didn't want to stop him. I felt soft silky material beneath my ass as he set me on his bed. Not giving me the chance to get up and run he immediately slid between my legs. He gripped my ass pulling me up the bed with him as he looked down at me.

"So beautiful." he murmured, sliding his hand up and down my thigh. His other arm propped his body up on his elbow so he didn't crush me. "Such a teasing little outfit."

"Mr. T, you're drunk." I tried to reason with him. My hands pushed at his chest lightly, not even giving the effort to push him off.

"Nope, just part of the plan to get you here." I opened my mouth to reply but in that same moment he ground his cock against my mesh thong and I let out a tortured moan. Knowing I couldn't have it was killing me. He grinned down at me.

"Liar." I whispered, sliding my hands over his shoulders and around his neck pulling him closer. But I could just have a little taste and leave soon. He growled and pressed his lips to mine and I didn't stop him. I thrust my fingers into his hair and pulled his mouth closer to mine. We began the fight for dominance, every time I would think I'd won he pushed back until I gave into him. Letting him explore my mouth with his tongue, I wrapped my legs around his waist. He leaned up, pulling me with him and slid his hands under the barmaids dress, squeezing my luscious ass. I gasped as he broke away from my mouth trailing little wet kisses down to my neck. I could feel his fingers slip to the zipper on my back, but I grabbed them and moved them back to my hips muttering "Nuh uh." 

He groaned and his lips latched onto my soft spot, which made my hips jerk forward. I looked down to where my dress was bunched around my waist, and you could see how soaking wet I was. I was so fascinated by the sight, I started to rock my hips back and forth. Little pants and moans escaping my lips. Mr. T released me and let his head fall into the cradle of my shoulder in pleasure, his hands gripping the sheets on either side of my head. His muscles straining with effort, as he pushed back up to look at me.

I looked up at him, his gorgeous eyes closed. His lips slightly apart as he groaned. I could feel him push his hips so he could grind against me harder.

"Alexia! You're killin' me!" At the sound of his voice I stopped. Millions of thoughts ran through my mind as I stared up at him, scared. He looked back down at me in confusion. I pushed him as hard as I could off of me and I did the one thing I knew best... I ran.

I turned the corner out of his room by memory and caught sight of the front door. I sighed in relief as I made it there, my fingers wrapping happily around the knob. But I was too slow as Mr. T barreled into me and his body crushed me into the door.

I gasped as he pinned both of my arms above my head, kissing the exposed silky skin of my neck and shoulders. "Silly, silly girl." he whispered "You're just making me harder. "

He pushed up the bottom of the dress, and I felt the hot, hard, smooth skin of his cock press between my ass. There was no barrier between us. No clothes in the way. His fingers twisted their way through my hair before roughly turning me around and pulling me to my knees. I yelled out in pain as my hands reached up to grab his wrist and ease some of the pressure. But I came face to face with a monster. His cock had to be at least 10" and so thick around. It was so long and hard. It throbbed and bounced with need. Its purple head shining with precum was slapped against my lips, waiting for me to open up. I could feel my tongue snake out, licking the salty gooey mess at the top of his beautiful cock. As soon as it did I moaned, wrapping my lips completely around his engorged head. I sucked off as much as I could before he pulled out of my mouth with a pop.

"God damn!" He pushed his cock back into my awaiting hungry little slut mouth, only farther this time. He pulled back out and did the same thing again. I could feel him at the back of my throat and I tried to push him away as I started to gag but he didn't relent. He kept pushing forward and tears came to my eyes. I looked up at him, my nose pressed against his stomach and I couldn't breathe. He pulled back and I gulped for air right before he pushed balls deep into the back of my throat again.

"Good little slut... take that big cock all the way down your throat." he moaned. He reached down and basically ripped my top in half, my tits popped free as he groaped and pinched my nipples. which made me moan around his cock. He started to face fuck me hard, his hands holding the sides of my face as he did. "Look at me baby!" he ordered. I looked up at him as innocently as possible. I started to suck, my tongue worked laboriously against his shaft, my hands reached up and massaged his balls, coaxing the cum out of him. My head worked back and forth with his thrusts, meeting him every time he bottomed out. He grunted and yanked his cock out of my mouth. He tapped it few times on my lips and cheeks before pulling away. I leaned forward trying to get it back, my tongue hanging out, landing softly on my hands with my ass in the air.

Mr. T leaned down and picked me up bridal style, and carried me back to his bedroom. He sat me on the edge once again, this time undoing the dress and sliding it down over my shoulders. I couldn't do anything but sit and watch as he leaned down and slid his lips over my nipple while his other hand pinched my right one. As he released me, he gripped my hips in both of his hands and lifted me. He flipped me over until I land flat on my belly, the wind knocked out of me in one big whoosh.

"What the-" I start but his hand came down hard against my ass. I could feel my eyes bulge and my hands go back to protect my newly red cheeks. He didn't care though, he gripped both of my wrists and held them behind my back. I cringed readying myself for another swat.

"Such a bad little girl, running away from me." he tisked, his fingers massaged my sore butt.

"I'm sorry, I won't do it again." I tensed up as I waited for his reply but it never came, only another hard smack. This one brought tears to my eyes and caused me to yelp. Jake groaned as he lightly ran his fingers over my glowing cheeks again.

This went on for five minutes, alternating between cheeks and rubbing them after each smack. Although with each smack my pussy gushed. Tears that streaked my cheeks were wiped off when he sat me up on his lap. I looked at him angrily, but he only laughed and pushed my legs on either side of his. I crossed my arms and sniffled. I didn't realize how ridiculous I looked until I looked down and remembered that i had nothing on but my silly green thong. That soaked green thong. My lust hit me hard once again. As if they had a mind of their own, my hips started to rock again.

Jake's jaw tightened, a thing I noticed he does when he is frustrated. His hands once again gripped my hips, this time he twirled me upside down. I yelled at him slapping whatever I could do to hurt him, not wanting another spanking. But he literally ripped my thong off of me and covered my throbbing hot little pink pussy with his mouth. I screamed in shock, my nails digging into the skin of his legs. With one arm around my waist to hold me up, the other was sliding through my folds, teasing my little hole. His tongue twirled around and around until I almost blacked out in pleasure. The knot in my belly just kept tightening, I was so close to the edge but Jake wouldn't push me off. He just kept doing what he was doing.

I screamed and moaned and begged him to make me cum. "MR. T PLEASE! UUUUUGH!" I was losing my mind, but he just kept up with his torture.

I started to become desperate "Jaaaaaaaaake!" Finally he relented, he laid me down quickly on his bed, and pulled my to the edge. His thumb rubbed circles on my clit keeping me stimulated as he shoved/forced his huge cock deep into me. I felt like my heart stop as my whole body quived and shook. i couldn't breathe. I saw white light, stars, god even. Never once had I had such an intense orgasm. Wave after wave washed over and i screamed over and over as he slammed his cock in and out of me. When i came off of one orgasm another one immediate followed. My pussy continuously convulsing and squeezing him, milking him of his cum.

"Alexia! God Damn it stop cumming!!" he roared at me

I half screamed half cried "I can't!' The orgasms were getting exhausting and I felt like I was about to pass out.

His thrusts were becoming erratic, the rhythm he had was lost. He was a man on the verge of cumming and I panicked.

"Jake no! I'm not on any birth control!" but he either wasn't listening or he didn't hear me because he slammed himself all the way in my cunt, bottoming out, his cock head flat against my cervix which leads straight to my womb, and he exploded. I could feel every gush of cum he blasted into me, and it sent me into another round of orgasms. A mixture of our cum oozed out around his cock. Jake was kept trying to push his cock even deeper.

"Yes baby take all that cum!" he growled "YOU'RE MINE!" I moaned at that. His possessiveness made my heart clench.

His cock finally stopped spewing cum and his body collapsed on top of mine. His softening cock still buried inside of me, holding in all of his cum.

Jake kept whispering mine as he kissed all over my face. My eyes, cheeks, nose, chin, lips. I lay there dozing in and out of consciousness. I could feel his arm under my body pulling me up further into his bed. I barely remember his head rested between my tits and his fingers lazily drew circles over my belly. My hands drifted to his hair and back doing the same. But I'd never forget what he said

"My, our, baby will be here soon." and he kissed my belly where my womb is. I was too exhausted to argue and I fell into a peaceful sleep.



The Barmaid Wench



I had dressed for my shift at the pub as any other night, although tonight I had a feeling of anticipation in the pit of my stomach. That excitement mixed with fear of the unknown feeling, that seems to make my stomach almost queasy. Something would happen, I knew it from those unspoken depths within my being. So I decided to put a little special something on under my barmaid's frock. I love the frocks as they are so revealing, and with such an ample bosom these barmaid outfits were made for my figure. I love my job at the pub; all the men thinking they can have their way with me while all the women show signs of jealousy towards me. I must admit that I enjoy the attention. 

Sliding the stockings one by one, over my ankles and slipping them past my calves, I attached them to the frilly little garter belt that I saved for just such special occasions. I inspected myself in the looking glass, twisting this way and turning that. Glad I had kept my figure in check. Marveling at my full lush breasts with nipples standing erect in the cool air of the drafty room. Running my hand down over my slim tummy and lightly brushing my finger tips over the bush that peaked out between my thighs I liked the reflection. Sliding one hand over my bottom, feeling the smooth soft skin. I made the decision not to wear panties tonight. Feeling a bit daring and sensual I felt between my legs and found myself moist within the folds of my womanhood. Oh, I hoped the stirrings within my loins would not go unsated tonight.

The pub was busy tonight. Several of the towns people felt the need to get out of their little houses if only for a few hours and mingle with one another. I was rushed throughout the evening and had little chance to visit with my friends or meet anyone new traveling through. Finally it was getting quiet as the night was waning. Some of the other maids were leaving for the night. Then a stranger walked into the pub, I had never seen him before yet there was a certain amount of familiarity about him. He was handsomely tall with dark features. The strange clothing from another land added to his exotic aura. He possessed a ruggedness yet at the same time the gentleness of a man who knows how to treat a lady.

I sauntered to his table to take his order, my skirts swaying around my body. My full bosom bouncing and cleavage showing. He had the clearest green eyes that seemed to peer into the depths of my soul and then he smiled at me. My knees almost gave way beneath me as I spied the flash of white teeth peaking out from under this full mustache and felt the genuine warmth flow from him. We made small talk as I served him, finding any excuse to linger at his table so I could marvel at his body. His hands were large and masterful with long fingers that tapered. Yet when he reached for his ale I noticed the care he had taken with his smooth, even nails and the way he lightly touched my hand when I set the ale upon the table left a warm spot upon my hand. 

He shared stories of his journey; some made me laugh till my sides hurt while others brought tears to my eyes. I was taken with his gentleness; while wondering how such a ruggedly handsome man could be this docile. As the evening wore on, he started asking questions and I found myself reveling far too much. At one point he boldly asked what I wore under my maid's frock. Being a stranger, I was very taken aback by this. Yet he had a way of prying answers from me and soon I found myself telling him of my stockings and garter. He smiled at me knowingly but didn't mention the lack of panties within my description. 

He enjoyed his meal, a very good stew with lots of ale and paid his bill. We continued to talk as I cleared the tables. His deep penetrating eyes following me around the room. By this time we were the only two left in the tavern so I finally sat with him after finishing my chores. I told him how I longed to have the passions released within me. Feeling that this must be someone else revealing their inner most secrets, for surely I could not be telling a stranger these things; I explained how men would promise passion and pleasure yet their own fulfillment seemed to be their actual goal and I would be left with the hunger and yearning still between my thighs. He had stayed drinking a little more ale, while I closed up.

Upon locking the massive wooden doors, he inquired as to walking me home. I feared him walking me home as my father was there and I didn't want him to know that I had taken up with anyone tonight, much less this stranger that appeared to be passing through. The stranger told me he had recently been knighted; his name was Richard, Sir Richard. 

We walked through town, him with his arm around my waist(I suspect to steady himself somewhat from all the ale he had drank). As we walked down the street, Richard pulled me to him and started kissing me full on the mouth, his tongue probing between my lips and touching mine. My heart beat faster and I could already feel the passions awakening in my loins. I stopped him, but just to warn him that the cops would see this as a public sexual act and would jail him. As there was a law in our town that no sexual acts, including kissing, could be conducted in public. 

He swiftly broke the embrace and guided me across the street to the hotel in which he was staying. We quickly climbed the stairs to his chambers like two young lust struck teenagers. 

Once the door was closed and locked, he embraced me tightly, kissing me deeply. I felt his tongue part my lips, spreading them seeking my tongue. I returned his kiss in full. Wanting the taste of this man upon my lips. His teeth brushed against my lower lip, bruising it slightly. His roughness and gentleness a nice change from the locals who just hurried through everything because they didn't know how to treat a woman. He undressed me, his lips leaving a trail down my body where the clothing once was. Over my neck he nibbled and kissed his way to my breasts. There he sucked first one nipple, flicking and tugging on it with his teeth until it was erect and sending electric shocks directly to my thighs, then he moved to the other nipple and did the same thing. Holding my ample breast in his hand and working me into a frenzy with what he was doing to my nipples. No man had ever aroused me like this before. He would lick my nipple and pull away while sucking on it, then blow a gentle breeze across the erect tight little bud. 

Leaving my stockings and garter on, he led me to the bed and pulled a handkerchief out and some soft rope. I was excited and a little frightened by this, as I had heard of such things (in fact, secretly dreamed about them when my cousin told me a story in which the maid was tied to the bed and made to please her master) but I had never experienced it myself. He sensed my fright, but his calming voice, so soft in its commands eased my anxiety. He placed the rope about my wrists and put the handkerchief around my eyes, leaving me feeling helpless yet excited at what was to come from this adventure. I felt a chill in the room as he moved around and heard a rustling of what seemed to be clothing; then a clinking of metal.

He laid me on the bed and tied my hands above my head to the headboard, leaving my legs free. I felt his hands touch me in such sensitive places. From the top of my head he worked slowly down my body, touching and feeling every inch of me. Talking to me; telling me how beautiful I was and what he wanted to do to me. I felt other soft touches, perhaps a feather or some other piece of soft clothing. The sensations that he was causing to rise in me were very exciting, so different from anything I had ever felt before. Finally he reached below my waist. By this time I am withering and squirming; he tells me to be still and be a good girl. I am not to move unless he tells me I can. This was very difficult indeed but I didn't want him to stop so I obeyed. 

He pulled my legs farther apart and exposed my womanhood to full view. Not sure what was going to happen next I was almost relieved when the feel of warm air brushed across my womanly lips. Then I felt his tongue upon the little bud hiding within the folds that lay there. Remembering his instructions not to move a soft moan escaped my lips. I could hear him chuckle as he again flicked across my clit. Then his tongue was sliding along my outer lips and going up and down the full length of my opening. I could only lay there and whimper or moan as he brought me to heights unknown. The teasing was almost unbearable as he pressed his tongue flat against my clit and moved it from one side to the other. 

Finally he told me I could move my hips but not my legs, so I dug my heels into the mattress and pushed my hips up into the air reaching for him; wanting more. Again I heard that knowing chuckle and flopped back to the bed whimpering. I felt a sting like a spanking upon my clit, then soft kisses and light breezes. Another sting, and again the pain was kissed away. Being that I was blindfolded and tied to the headboard, I didn't know what to expect. He knew every place that I loved to be touched and even found some I didn't know about. I gave into the pleasure he was giving me. 

He had teased me for what seemed hours, repeatedly building my excitement nearly to climax then abandoning me, leaving me to whimper until the thrill had subsided. He finally released my hands and told me to do as he bids for tonight I was his and I would finally be made the lusty wench that I so desired to be. He left the blindfold on so I could not see, yet I was still wanton and desirous to do as he bid. 

He pulled me up to a sitting position and stood in front of me and guided my hands to his hard tool. He told me how to stroke him to bring him pleasure and then how to place his tool in my mouth and take him deep and that the added humming vibrations I would do as I learned to enjoy the feel of such a large sized tool in my mouth would only heighten the pleasures. 

As he kept putting his manhood in my mouth and my hands stroked, I took more and more of him, enjoying the sensation and humming around his tool to show my appreciation for him. He was forceful yet gentle and never went further than he felt I could handle. His hands were constantly pulling my head and mouth on him. He tasted so wonderful. I lost myself in the passionate embrace of my mouth on his thick shaft, striving to swallow it all. I couldn't take all of it down my throat, but not for lack of trying. 

At last he decided he wanted more of me; releasing his grip on my hair and guiding my head back off his massive shaft. This man was to have me totally that night and all I could do was give myself to him; I longed to please him, to give him pleasure in everything he wanted. He ordered me to get on my hands and knees. I felt his hands running over my bottom, touching places that no man had ever touched before, probing with his fingers, licking with his tongue. He asked if I was truly a lusty wench and I replied I was. He asked if I was his wench and I replied I was. He asked if I needed his hard manhood ramming me deep, filling me completely and I could not hold back and begged him to take me, make me his and I totally gave in to the lusty wench in me. 


We coupled for many hours, me blindfolded, him guiding me and taking me. When he finally removed the blindfold, it was morning. We had spent the night together, pleasuring each other. I was totally satiated being taken and made this man's wench, if only for one night.

We bathed and dressed, then kissed and parted ways. He said that he had to be at the manor house for a ceremony celebrating his newly knighted state. He said that he would be back this way soon and I know a knight must be true to his word. I await his return. 

While waiting for his return, I continue to turn away most of the drunken locals advances, longing to be taken and used by my knight, my master, again.