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Glass

By: girlnon



I'm at the window, staring out at the curtains of rain being pelted against the glass by the wind. If the glass were a mirror instead of transparent, I would see that my face was as blank as a white page; eyes as calm as lakes. One hand rests on the frame of the window beside my head; my nose nearly against the glass between the pounding rain and myself. I'm immersed; I hear only the downpour.

And certainly not him.

There is weight against my back suddenly, heavy and damp, pressure against my lips before any noise can escape them, cold metal at my throat, and a voice in my left ear.

"Don't move. Don't make a sound." And he emphasizes on this with slightly more pressure from the blade to my throat.

My mind takes off in that moment – holding my breath, catching my reeling brain, and finally coming to focus, first on the vibrations of the rain against the glass against my body. I can feel it and the cold through my blouse and I can feel the dampness of his pants against my ass through my skirt and against my bare legs. Back to reality. A sweat crops up on my skin and I nearly shiver before the sensation of metal against my throat comes back. There is fear but I cover it with anger – anger that I had not sensed, had not heard him coming. The hand comes off my mouth and the pressure of my body. Again, his voice, 

"Don't move."

The metal is against the back of my neck now, moving down, cutting through the fabric of my blouse. A chill follows the blade down my spine until it's all the way through to the bottom. I feel the air against my back and my anger blooms again to cover. Still, I clamp my lips around it and remain my silent; the sound of my heart filling my ears. His hand slides under the cut material and I try to focus on the glass pressing out against the rain. The hand slips around to my stomach, sliding up between my breasts, pulling me back, and I nearly scream and lash out then – only the thought of not knowing where the hell the knife is stops me. The pulling brings me a step back, then another and his hand pushes against the front of my shirt till it pulls down my arms and finally slips off my hands to the floor. I clench my hands into fists to keep from covering my breasts. Closing my eyes again, I try to close everything out as I feel his hand on my right shoulder, turning me. 

Once facing him, I look directly, and hopefully fearlessly, into his face. I find a mirror of my own emotionlessness save for what might be a slight grin. He glances down my body and I'm unaware of the hand that reaches up and around and clench my hair. It pulls hard, my teeth clench, I suck a breath in through them as my neck is arched back. The point of the knife touches the underside of my throat.

"Scared yet, bitch?"

I hold my breath.

"You can talk now – tell me; are you scared yet?"

I can hear the smirk in his voice now and it ups my resolve. My lips clamp down tight. Fuck him – he won't get a thing from me. The tip of blade leaves my chin and my head is forced forward and down. My eyes are filled with the dull metal of the knife against the sheen of sweat on my skin. It moves down over my breast, the metal warm from my skin, and all I can do is watch, my body frozen as the point inches towards my nipple.

"One more time – tell me you're scared." 

And I am, despite my resolve, I know I'm trembling. But it doesn't make me answer – I refuse silently, answering with only my breath, trembling, and cool anger.

It's like watching a scene in slow motion when the point of the blade pierces my flesh so close to my nipple, but my reaction is instant. I cry out and one of my so far clenched hands comes up to grab the hand that holds the knife – I back up the two stumbling steps till my ass is against the window, and my other hand comes across my breasts to cup the wounded nipple. I can feel warm moisture between my fingers but I refuse to look down again, fearing distraction. In his face I see first shock and then anger. His hand, already loosed from my hair, comes down to first slap me hard across the face and then to push against my chest so that my back slams against the glass behind me. Adrenalin rushing, my cheek burning, I prepare to fight back this time – until the knife is against my throat again. 

"Try it again, cunt – go ahead. You so much as breath without me telling you to and it'll be a lot worse than this little nick."

And god help me, the fucker found that tiny little cut in my skin again with the knife tip and opened it, only slightly more. This time I scream; the pain hot, engulfing my breast. 

When it stops, I realize I'm close to tears and bite them back as I realize he's stepping back; the hand is off my chest. And I'm watching in a daze, trying to keep my knees from buckling and forcing myself not to look down at my breast as he stoops to paw through a bag on the floor. How the fuck did he get in with THAT without me knowing? He pulls out of it something silver. Handcuffs. I tense, holding my breath again, as he brings out a handful of rope along with the cuffs. 

I try to listen to the rain pounding on the glass as he approaches me again, trying to will myself not to think; not to feel. There is only internal fighting when he cuffs my wrists together in front of me and there is only a glare on my face when he steps back slightly to look at me. He comes close again, too close this time, pressing against me, his hands behind my back, unzipping my skirt. I turn my head to one side, closing my eyes, knowing my face is flushed and praying he doesn't see. He pushes the skirt down my hips, his hands sliding over my ass, only slightly touching through the fabric of my panties. I shudder in response and silently cuss my skin out for tingling; trying to will it back to sleep. But I can feel the air on my skin, the dampness of his jeans and shirt, even the place where a little bit of his boot touches my ankle beneath my know crumpled skirt.

My eyes are closed and I snap myself out of the daze as I realize he's not touching me any longer. He's in front of me, tying the rope around the chain between my cuffed hands. There is a length of rope left when he is done and this he holds as he turns without a word. And I realize I'm expected to follow. This snaps me right back to reality. I stand still, breathing hard, and planting my feet firmly to the ground. As the rope pulls taunt between us, a chill runs through me, but I stay still. He turns and I swear I can feel my heart beating in every inch of my skin as he takes two steps back to me, grabs the back of my hair, and pushes me forward a couple stumbling steps. He starts to walk again, but I stay still, panting hard; fresh adrenalin doing all the talking. He pulls and my expression can only say 'fuck you' at this point. The chain between my wrists is in his hand and he yanks hard – I respond with an angry growl, new sweat breaking out all over my skin as he gets one leg behind me, knocking me, sprawling, to the floor, my ass and shoulders taking the hardest blows. 

Before I can regroup, his boot is on my throat with just enough pressure to keep my head on the floor. I catch my breath as best I can; barely keeping tears at bay this time. 

And he's only grinning.

"You look good down there but we really didn't need to do all that – you could have just asked... nicely."

Every inch of my flesh is burning hot as I can feel him staring at my body. I watch him, my face hopefully showing nothing but contempt; forcefully keeping the words I'd like to say behind my bitten lips. His boot comes up off my neck and he's suddenly crouched down beside me, slipping the knife from his belt, and resting it against the top of my cunt, just barely pressing against the fabric of my panties. I close my eyes. I refuse to shudder as the blade slips between the fabric and my skin and I, again, try not to feel. But I do feel – chills, tingling, burning. The panties are cut and pulled away but I do not move until he pulls me up from the floor and is walking again. This time I follow; nearly broken or at least broken at the moment. 

I remain in this daze, stripped literally and stripped of my resolve as well. I strain only against crying now; only against giving him emotion – he can take anything else but what's inside me. My final resolve is to show nothing but cold, hard spite. 

He's pushing me down on the bed and breath is the only thing I'm fighting for as he ties my hands to the headboard. I nearly cry for the third time as he secures my ankles to the bottom corners of the bed; my body stretched and spread eagle on the bed. I can't find it in me to fight anymore and frustration hands off to defeat. My eyes stay shut until I feel him on the bed between my legs. I hear him unzip his pants and, seconds later, I feel his body on top of mine. His dick is against the top of my thigh, too fucking close to my pussy – this wakes me up. I open my eyes and look him right in the face.

"Feel that?"

He moves his hips just slightly, but enough to make me bite on my bottom lip against whimpering. I still give him nothing.

"If you can't, you will. I'm gonna break you of this 'ice princess' stance you've got going, one way or another. Now, you can go down nicely, or you can fight me – either way, I'm still gonna enjoy the hell out of it."

I'm staring right into his smirking eyes as he moves his hips slightly so his dick ends up between the lips of my pussy, and the last of my adrenalin and resolve kicks in. I spit in his face and very softly say, "fuck you."

I'm holding my breath and trembling; I'd been praying I'd feel somehow stronger but it's funny how late one realizes there's very little strength to be had when one is tied down securely. He laughed. Only laughed as one hand wiped his face clean. 

"Good choice – I'll enjoy it all the more, bitch."

He started pushing the head of his dick into me and I let lose a cross between a growl and a scream.

"Go ahead and fight me – the tighter those muscles are, the better it's going to feel when I fuck the shit outta you."

He's breathing harder now and my head is tossing back and forth on the bed, my body fighting him, trying to push his dick out.

"Might not hurt as much if you relaxed though."

And as if on cue, my muscles relax even as he says the words. His dick pushes into me, hard, filling my cunt, and he groans as my eyes roll back. My brain cuts in with questions – how the hell did it slide in like that? Was I wet after all that? Why the hell am I throbbing?

I try, one last time, to shut my cunt up and put it back to sleep but she's wide awake – and she woke up fucking hungry. I let go of some of my tension and let my cunt swallow his dick as my skin breaks into a fresh sheen of perspiration. He's fucking me slowly, like a lover might and I'm still fighting enough not to arch my back or lift my hips but a whimper comes out of my throat, unwillingly. I feel the blood rush to to the surface of my skin even before he acknowledges hearing anything. His only response is to look me in the eyes and thrust in once, hard. My eyes roll back once more and this time I put my brain to sleep. The thrusts get harder, faster and I can feel them up through my body. There's heat between my thighs, the juice from my pussy is running out of me every time his dick pushes in; every single pore is throbbing now. I can hear him growling and moaning over my panting and it feels like every ounce of tension gathered through the previous events has become sexual tension. My body gets close to release and the tension is there again – not to push him out but to wrap around him and pull him in. I arch my back under him, meeting every thrust now, my only thought is of cumming and cumming hard to be free of all this tension. Straining against my bonds, I hear him cum and feel it, hot inside my body; he's fucking me hard and fast through it, nearly pushing me over the edge with him. And he pulls out immediately. He's still gasping from his orgasm as he leans up off of my body.

I was so fucking close I could scream. My cunt throbbing on the sudden emptiness, I squirm on the bed; how I look is now the last thing on my mind. I whimper loudly and catch myself saying the word 'please' over and over. I can no longer blush for it, even with the look of satisfaction on his smug face, as my skin is suffuse with pink already from sexual excitement.

"No, no – you're not taking anything today, girl – I am" 

He leans over me and I feel two fingers slide into my cunt. My back arches immediately as hovers over me, his free hand braced on the bed, and licks my wounded nipple. There is no longer pain – only intense sensation that drives straight down to my cunt. He's fucking me slowly with two fingers, making my hips rock on the bed; his mouth sucking, pulling, biting at my nipple. I'm growling, whimpering, and begging all at once; my pussy's on fire around his fingers when he pulls them out and starts pushing all four of them in. And I'm tight and open at the same time, meeting every thrust with my hips as he works his hand into me. He leans back again, working his hand in me harder and I'm so far gone I barely notice that he's curled it into a fist against my womb. He's fisting me with the strength of his whole arm behind that hand and I can feel my muscles tensing for the inevitable orgasm, my hips frozen in the air. I can hardly hear his words over my own begging and moaning.

"Let it go."

And with him pounding into me, I break. The orgasm nearly splits my body, growling, screaming, and crying, in half. My body shudders, clamping down around his fist and it feels like it stretches out for hours; my face ends up as wet as the insides of my thighs. Still shaking, I don't even notice the ropes and cuffs coming off. I don't even know I'm still crying until he is beside me, holding me through the trembling and tears, in the midst of miles of broken glass.

Glass Becomes Me



I awoke with a start, my arms suddenly empty; it took a moment to remember where I was. My eyes adjusted and I realized I was in my bed, alone. I lay there for a moment, amazed at the reality that was my dream. Sighing deeply, I recalled how your arms felt around me, how your lips felt on mine, how my body responded to yours. I wanted to be back there, in your arms, for real, not in a dream. How, I wondered, could I feel this way? We have never even met, yet I have such a connection with you. 

As I lay there, in my lonely bed, I realized that I was so turned on by my dream. I reached down to touch my panties and found that they were soaking wet. I slipped a finger inside them and felt the silky wetness. I let my finger wander up and down my slit, sometimes lingering on my clit. My nipples, still hard from my dream, called out for attention. My other hand began to tease my nipple, pinching and pulling. I knew the only thing I had to do at this very moment was to make myself cum, thinking of you. 

I slipped off my panties and t-shirt, tossing them to the floor. I reached into the drawer of my nightstand and got out my glass dildo and my vibrating egg. My legs were spread and my pussy was dripping. The glass felt cool to the touch as I dragged it up and down my dripping slit. I shuddered from the coolness, but smiled, knowing that very soon, that piece of glass would be very hot. I slowly began to slide that glass into my cunt, inch by inch, until all of it was in me. I kept it there, feeling the weight of the glass, adjusting to it. I slowly began to slide it out, feeling every inch leave my body. I paused, with just the head in me still, and began a steady rhythm of in and out. My hips began to rock, my pussy dripped even more. The only thing on my mind was to cum and cum hard.

I reached for my little egg and placed the cool metal on my clit. I turned it on low at first, feeling the small vibrations on my clit. I continued to slide the glass in and out very slowly. My pussy was dripping even more and I still had the egg on low. I reached down and turned it up a bit. I moaned slightly at the feelings. My thrusting increased and my hips began to rock faster. My body was tingling and my pussy was on fire. I didn't know how long I could take this and turned the egg up to high. My breath caught in my throat and my pussy clenched around the glass. I fucked myself hard, feeling the now hot glass sliding in and out. The egg, pressed hard against my clit, was doing its job well. I could feel the sensations increase, knowing that soon I was going to explode. 

I wanted this. I needed this. Now. I slammed the glass into my dripping cunt even harder, bringing myself closer to the edge. My body was on fire; sweat was dripping everywhere. The egg was vibrating as hard as it could and I knew that at any moment, I was going to cum. Suddenly, I could feel it, the tingling, the warm feeling. I teetered on the edge...feeling so good. I slammed the glass into my soaking pussy one last time and exploded in orgasm. My back arched and I moaned constantly. My pussy began to gush, the hot juices flowing down, coating my thighs, my ass and leaving a puddle on the bed. I turned the egg down slowly, enjoying the sensations that were still rocking my body. I brought the piece of glass to my lips, feeling the heat, as I tasted myself. Spent, I lay there, wishing you were with me. My body was still aching for you, needing you, wanting you, here with me. 

I lay there for a moment, lost in my thoughts. I shivered from the chill and slowly pulled the covers onto my body. I turned onto my side, holding my pillow and tried to fall back asleep. As I lay there, I smiled, knowing how much better that would have been with you there. I slowly drifted back to sleep, knowing that the pillow wasn't enough. I wanted your body next to mine, holding me.



Glass Butterfly: Prelude to a Kiss



One

Patrick knocked on the door of the sterile white room. He greeted me from behind the abrasive expression of a mask. Our embrace pulled me snug against his growing cock. The tips of my thumbs traced downward and around defined obliques, tracing the arrow that pointed to his cock. His definition felt sharp against my fingers. Deep brown eyes held my gaze. I started to speak but a finger touched my lips followed by a voice like a whisper in my ear. "It's ok" it said "we are only brothers in name." With that, I could taste Patrick's tongue with my own. I heard the sound of water on the windows and all the roof tops. Rain had awakened my senses. The sky exploded turning thick like cream. Patrick's back was slippery with it and his body swayed at the hips from side to side, jerking his cock from left to right. He looked me in the eyes, not with the smile that greeted me but with one of pure greed, the mask had changed. "You want me to make it hurt bro?" My heart was pounding, pumping the guilt throughout my body. Paralyzed by the ghost.

I sat up a little disoriented. My cock was still hard from both the dream and the fact that I had to pee. The shower was running in the bathroom so I figured Patrick must have tipped in not wanting to wake me. I rolled off the bed and knocked on the door without waiting for an answer. "How long have you been back" I was asking while fumbling to wrestle my erect cock through the zipper. It was juiced. A perfect drop of precum clung to the tip but was washed away in the stream of my relief. 

The water fell silent and the shower door slid open. I turned to face Havier. He'd caught a glimpse of my pride and smirked. "Patrick will be home soon. You may want to clean up a bit" he added with a curt grin. I tried to smile but realized my jaw hurt. It felt like shit. Then it started coming back, to me - the surprise visit to see my brother only to find him out of town, and his boyfriend punching me in the face.

I remembered Havier showing me to the room. He placed my bag next to the bed and pointed out the bath. The fit of his shirt tightened with the outstretched arm. He gestured toward the balcony that held a view of Lake Travis, "here is the closet space, and internet access if" I needed he went on. His biceps bulged and I could see the veins. I remembered the way his weight felt on top of me from the night before. I'd fought the urge not to look at the shadowy outline of his crotch. When he stepped out of the shower I already knew what his dick looked like. My memory of him remained perfectly clear. The part of me that he had touched the night before tensed as he emerged from the steam. 

I wanted to stop pissing but couldn't. Havier got out and sidled past. I felt moisture on my shoulder and got a look at the perfectly trimmed pubes that rested at the bottom of a very thin tusk of hair running from his chest. He disappeared down stairs taking some clothes from the closet, not bothering to cover up. His dick was darker than the rest of him, just like I liked. The world seemed to have been moving slow. I could count the individual drops of mist clinging to his scrotum, the way the steam parted to let him pass. The feeling was of bliss. I could feel the satisfaction of my sex. It felt drained. I came into myself realizing that I was still high.

I showered to wash away the cum that had dried on my chest. Flakes. DNA. The proof of things that had been. After that I read in the circular garden beneath the crate myrtles and practiced a couple of breathing exercises to clear my head. The weather was good for May and I tried to enjoy the outside air. I'd picked up a copy of Kenneth Mark Hoover's "Fevreblau" from my brother's office and decided to read a bit. If I like it, I'd take it with me when I left I figured.

A phone rang inside and after a couple of minutes Havier stepped onto the deck and relayed again that "Patrick was on his way."

"Did you tell him that I was here?" Havier just shrugged. What was the point. "Dinner smells good" I wanted to sound reassuring. Like everything was perfectly ok.

"It's Caruru do Par. I like African and Asian foods, so I've been trying different recipes. Patrick never compliments my cooking" he paused. "Let's hope it tastes as good as it smells." We both tried to laugh a little and it felt rather sentimental even though we hadn't spoken for several years, but spent the night fucking like Tina addicts.

The evening of my arrival we had cozied up to a nice meal and grew a lot friendlier than we should have. "I see little of your brother these days. I'm usually here by myself most of the time." It turned out not all was well in paradise. 

I asked him how he entertained himself. "I don't know anything about Austin. We just moved here, what? Two months ago when Patrick's, dad bought him the house and set him up with the job. I mean, you know, your dad too." 

Patrick could never find his wits about joy I scoffed to myself. Dad had to always rescue him. The things he liked, craved, and desired always came easy. Havier had been one of them. 

We'd agreed to reunite and kick off the start of summer, but never set a date. "I haven't seen you in three years, and I miss you a lot bro. I still don't know why you decided to move out of the fuckin country, and I know that's a sensitive issue so I'll shut up but, only if you promise me a weekend." As always, much of what came out of Patrick's mouth wasn't true. "I hope you're not still pissed over that Havier thing cause that's over."

He once said that I was the only guy who knew how rich he was, had seen his hard on and still refused him what he wanted. "I remember that" I'd responded laughing, "it wasn't impressive the first time I saw it, nor the one hundredth." It was only a case of stupid pride that kept me from it; truth is I wanted to fuck those nights and hated the way he teased me. The fact that I wanted him made me feel the lesser of a whole.

Havier had been full of sly questions about what I'd been doing. He went farther than necessary to make me feel welcome. On the drive to the house he tried to embrace the silence in conversation, which didn't work. But, it was nice to hear his voice, even though it was mostly nervouse chatter. He took my bag and led me through one of the four living areas and up the small flight of stairs that were set off from the kitchen. 

In the middle of the room was a large counter that doubled as a bar. In the middle of the bar were freshly cut blossoms floating in a flat silver pan that had been filled with water. The kitchen and dinning room smelled sweet, a sharp contrast to the musk of Havier. I found myself stealing glances at his behind as he went up the staircase. From that first long glance I knew there was no way I could stay in the house with that ass without fucking it, or him fucking me. I didn't care. I was pissed at my brother for lying about the breakup. 

"Is everything OK" he asked. 

"Yes. It's perfect."

"You seem a little distant" he observed, "sort of like you know who."

"No. I'm good. I'm not too much like my brother, you know? We may have grown up in the same house, but Patrick was the one that actually lived in it. I was just thinking maybe we could go into the city" but, instead of leaving the house, we watched part of a film called Three Iron and I ended three years of celibacy before my suitcase was unpacked. 

Two 

The entire attic had been transformed into the master guest suite. The bed was comfortable, but it felt empty. The angled walls gave the room a feeling of closing in. I undressed down to my underwear and settled in but couldn't rest. When we were kids, Patrick would often sneak into my room and jump on the bed, wrestling me from my sleep. "Hey, looks like someone has got a little midnight wood going on." I did seem to be hard any time he woke me. In fact I think if I was suddenly awakened to the sound of an explosion, police siren, fire alarm, or Armageddon, I'd get raging hard as soon as my eyes opened. 

I laid three for hours after Havier and I said our goodnight, fingering my cock which was sticky from that first session. He'd grown much less talkative after. I assured him that things with my brother would be ok, that I wouldn't say anything. Deep down Havier didn't believe that, but wanted to. "I've missed you" he said and kissed me before turning away. The guilt was killing him. Havier wasn't the only boyfriend Patrick had taken from me, he was simply the last. I'd sworn not to ever come around as long as the two of them were together. That had been three years prior, so when Patrick said Havier was gone, I bought into it. I'd wanted the relationship to fail, but feared that they'd live the happily ever after that was reserved for me.

Before my mind started its journey too far down that narrow path, I got up and let in the breeze hoping that there wouldn't be mosquitos. The night air would cool the sting of his kiss, and that part that wanted to get back at everyone. It was all the magic I'd need. At least that's what I hoped. Standing on the balcony, the sound of a car pulling into a neighbors drive could be heard along with rustling leaves, and the faint barking of a dog. It was a different kind of piece than what I was used too, I'd grown so comfortable with the sound of car alarms and the occasional gunshot by then that I felt lonely without them. Still over the din of calm I made out a sound on the air that was rather familiar and my anxiety turned to anger, then sadness, then back around to wanting to fuck. 

In the shaded covering of the circular garden, Havier sat in the center ring. It sounded as though he was crying. I started to call out, but caught my breath thinking he needed to come to terms with things on his own. He sat that way for minutes without moving. Finally his voice broke "can't you sleep?" 

I walked down instead of answering and sat on the ground in front of him. It took me a few minutes to get outside but it gave me time to think. He spoke slower as though trying to find words that were as lost as the wind. The light from the moon toned down the richness of his complexion. The house pants he wore revealed a few stray pubic hairs and a hint of his shaft tucked in the shadows of the zipperless fly. My pulse quickened and the desire to take advantage of the situation took rise. "I couldn't sleep" I agreed. "Maybe you and I should have just gone out" I said.

He smiled, though his eyes seemed to be looking off to someplace beyond the garden. I wondered how someone as striking as him could become so vulnerable Another reason I I left was to get away from the habits, the drugs, the men, the games I'd played, but ended up searching out some of those same things when I left. From Sixth Street to Boys Cellar, there was seldom a weekend or place in which Pat didn't exchange numbers with some guy he'd met at the urinal. Half the time he ended up getting fucked while I sat in the car smoking and keeping an eye on the clock. On rare occasions I ended up dogging (which simply meant, I watched). He'd crawl around naked on all fours at some party so guys could use him as an ash tray, footrest, or boot polisher. The first time I saw that, I got pissed. Pat told me I didn't respect his being in the life, that I was too closed minded, and "too fucking politically correct about everything!"

I wasn't feeling politically correct about anything sitting there in front of Havier. When he offered me the drug, I took it. 

"The first time I came to Pats, I paid a visit to the medicine cabinet and all this crap came tumbling out. He caught me going through his shit, and was insulted. I wanted to find out, you know his status. He said he was safe but, I" he stopped. "It was all part of the game to him. I felt bad. I didn't want to hurt you but decided that I deserved how things would turn out. I used to be clean until..."

"I, don't know what to say."

"He should have been the one put on the spot. I used to be clean." he laughed at the obsurdity.

"We all did" I smiled and willed his cock to appear and it did. Patrick wasn't the first person to offer me the high, but he was the one who succeeded in getting me to try. The drug was taking hold of us both. 

"Your brother can be sexy when he's mad." Havier caught my wandering eye and placed his hand where I couldn't see and kept it there continuing his speech. "That night we had great sex, though. I mean really great sex." He paused and let the sound of his voice and my labored breathing settle back into nothingness. The effect was hypnotic. 

"You probably don't want to hear this" he started speaking a little faster. "That night we flip fucked for 10 hours straight, switching off every time one of us came." 

At that point I couldn't stop the fullness of my erection, and Havier just kept speaking. The words that were lost came in graphic detail. The wind blew harder. He mentioned that he could feel the hair from my brother's ass clinging to his cock, "tickling almost" he added. "I stroked long and hard, trying to fuck him harder than he had just fucked me. When it was his turn to ride, he'd slam my ass harder and it was almost as though I could hear the sound of my pucker scrapping against his shaft. Fuck I think sparks must have shot out my hole that night" he laughed and looked a little wild.

By then he had been slowly working his dick to its full veined glory. His prick looked engorged enough to pop. He smirked and left it peeking through his fly. "You like my dick?" I didn't say anything, I felt that if I spoke in that moment I would just cum. Even the air seemed to be rubbing me right. "This shit is making me as crazy."

He placed a hand behind my neck and pulled me close and bit down hard on my shoulder. I winched back a little only to have him move forward, place his other hand on my chest and force me onto my back. His legs found either side of my waist positioning his meaty ass hole right at the tip of my cock. My dick felt so hard I thought it could puncture a hole through his clothes and slide into his waiting hole. Havier had natural secretions. He didn't need lube to be fucked raw. I'd worked halfway into him before he hopped off. 

He bent down near my ear, with his butt pointed to the stars. My hand slyly brushed against his ass with the knowledge that he belonged to my brother. "Do you want to own this too?"

"Nah. I just want to fuck it for a minute" I whispered. He let his hand find my cock and tickle the sensitive part of my thigh. He grabbed the head of my dick and clamped down hard with his teeth. "Fuck!" As a reflex, I swatted him away hard.

He looked at me with perched lips and stood up. "Forget it" he said and slumped away down the winding path. I held on to my prick which was harder than it'd been in a while.

"Where are you going? What did I do?"

He looked at me "your dick is bigger than Patrick's, he'll know I let you fuck me."

"That's crazy! No one can tell something like that."

"You've seen your brother hard? You fuck him too?"

I didn't know where the conversation was going but figured it didn't matter because if I changed the conversation to tulips, we would most likely still end up trespassing. "He wont find out" I reassured. "I measured it. We're the same."

He looked at me dumbfounded but accepted the logic. The wind kicked up another notch, and Havier let his cloths fall to the ground. I quickly slid mine off and immediately counted every blade of grass, every tiny pebble pressed against my back and told him to straddle me again. I wanted whatever he could give me in that moment. 

"You going to let me have that right" I begged and pushed my finger against his open hole. The jerk that that little action caused in him made him grind his ass hard against me while pressing me between his thighs. I'd seen guys move like that before, and saw something of myself in the high. The hurt was good. His head jerked violently. I pushed my finger inside his wet pucker. The result was a groan drawn from some primitive place. He bent down toward my mouth and kissed me hard on the lips. I remember the kiss as being wetter than I liked and a little sloppy, but didn't care. It wasn't his tenderness that I'd become fixated with at that moment.

"Please" he said but didn't finish the thought. Instead he worked his tongue down my neck, to my nipples and started sucking. The pace was lilt, I stroked his bare ass in the dance with the tips of my fingers, feeling the grass and stone everywhere. In the crack of my ass, the sensation made me feel open. The sensation was to let the earth in. He worked from left to right, then back again. A stream of spittle ran down the side of my chest to the part of my back that wasn't pressed against the ground, then forgotten as his teeth drew all the feeling and focus from my being into his mouth. He had bitten down and had the other tightly locked between a finger vice. I pounded my head back. More pressure. More pressure. Before I got to the point of breaking he stopped and feed on the leakage from my cock. 

Several times he tried to take me full on but gagged. The shifting of his throat, an effort to expel my intruding prick felt good. I grabbed the side of his head and pumped my hips hard forcing him to choke several times. Tears welled in his eyes, and his nose started to run, but I kept going. Thrusting repeatedly, I got the same response so I closed my eyes to block out the night sky and just focused on the spot like a target. After a few dozen well timed hammers he tore my hands away from his head coughing and spitting. 

My fingers probed his loose hole while he had been coughing. There was a tightening and releasing, knowing how good that would feel stretched around my cock, it throbbed. And so it began. 

We went into the house. Havier led me like a dog using my prick as a flesh engorged leash. In the kitchen I slapped him across his right butt cheek and held my hand where it made contact. I drug my palm at an angle, sliding it off his rump as though scraping off filth. The color rushed to the surface. 

"Shit! How am I going to hide that" he yelped. I moved to the side as he tried to grab my cock, wanting to squeeze me hard. I could tell because he ground his teeth whenever the intent was to make me hurt. 

"Looks like you'll just have to tell Pat you have a headache for a couple of days, or say what a bitch you really are." I couldn't help but laugh. His balls drew close to his body with anticipation. He was close to coming. The rougher it got the more he liked it. 

Inside, before going up stairs he cupped his hands under the crushed ice dispenser and gave me a look. I made a dash around the counter bumping the flower arrangement in the center of the room. They almost slid off but didn't it seemed. He caught me in a hale of tiny crystals that sent waves of cold electricity through me. I bound through the dining room leaping over a chair laughing as I turned the corner fast. I heard shards of ice wiz by my ear hitting the walls. Out of ammo, all he had left were very cold hands and a very dangerous rod. 

I circled back around through the living room "too slow" man. "Don't you know they used to call me speed!" After I said it, I realized I'd stepped back into that role. "I'm going to fuck you all night baby boi."

"You think? I thought you only wanted it for a minute."

He hit the breaks when he realized I was heading back toward the ice but it was to late. I grabbed a hand full and caught him as he turned his back. Crack-ack. The pebbles stung and he stopped fast laughing as he hit the floor. 

"Ouch. You dirty fucker! That hurt! I should kick your" before he could say it I was on him with the sensation of coldness on his cock and chest. He arched his perfect back and opened up to me right there in the side hallway. I slid into him from behind feeling the rawness of his flesh around the head of my shaft. 




Glass Butterfly: Prelude to a Kiss



"Mmm. That's good" he said. "Stretch me."

I froze, concentrated on the twitching of his body which both wanted me inside, but tried to lock me out as though his spincter were I door I could not break down. We kissed and stood. Making our way to the top most floor we both fell onto the bed. He immediately started chewing on my cock which hurt like hell but the erection refused to bow down to the torture. 

When I slapped his balls he stopped and started licking my feet then back around to my ass. "You could use a shave baby. But I like it. You're kinda musty." Letting me know what he liked made me like it. I'd forgotten why I never wanted to see him again, but that was an argument I'd take up another time. "I don't know if I can take it all" he smiled, but he did, and the praise he gave made me want him as I had in the past.

I thrust deep and hard, occasionally pulling all the way out to slam back into his hole before it closed. "Stretch it baby" I kept repeating. He gave me more and more for a full turn of the clock then we flipped and I screamed when he tore my ass open. Three years without nothing but my own hands. It was like being a virgin all over again. "Take that pussy a voice was saying" the room kept spinning. My head crashed against something hard. His cum felt as though it burned my insides when he let if fly. It increased the high, I was still hard, horny and intoxicated from the rush, "give me that load, now take mine again." We went on for several hours.

What was the movie we'd seen? I couldn't remember. I grabbed a candle that had been burning and let the fire sting his back. Or was that in the film? I can't recall. The room kept spinning. It was all moving so slow. I counted my strokes when my orgasm started again. How many times could I pump my dick in his ass before I ran out of jizz? I put the fire out in the middle of his back that time. "Fuck yeah baby. I own your ass!" He was wimperring from pleasure and pain I think. The orgasm was so good he returned the favor, throwing me off him before squeezing out the last drop in that delicious place of his. Furiously he tried to work the head of his cock back into me but ended up popping his load on my hole. His fingers dug in deep enough to break the skin on my hips which stung from the salt. The same salt that I could taste in his kiss as he finger fucked his cum into me. A tremor ran through the earth. 

The session was irrational. I lay on my back bleeding from the hip, he rubbed the spot where I had burned him. Things became fuzzy. He started to stand after a few moments but I grabbed him and pulled him back toward my cock. "Where are you getting off to? You're my Bitch now!"

"You're fucked up" he said, and punched me in the mouth. "That was for burning me." 

The world went black. 

Three

I was bemused, slipping back into daylight like a dream. My cock was hard. The shower was running. It was 3. I was in it. How long had I just been standing there? I'd been downstairs helping Havier clean up the kitchen. Turns out, we had knocked over the center piece spilling water and blossoms all over the floor. The ice despencer had been broken. I'd gone back upstairs to shower, shave and you know the drill, dress, think, come down. Havier was terribly upset by then. How would he explain the broken fridge, the fact that I was there, the burn on his back, my swollen cheek.

When Patrick got home he was so glad to see me that he didn't even notice Havier's sour mood. In fact he was going on and on about his business trip. 

"You look well bro. But I see your getting a little belly" he said ignoring the puffiness on the side of my face.

I returned the sentiment and saw just how much time had passed. Patrick didn't have the same glow that I'd remembered. "Looks like you might be getting a little too much Texas sun yourself, or have those Arbonne products gone bad on you?" The usual competition. We talked like that for a while in the sunroom which faced the hills. There was a fireplace with an eight point buck that Patrick shot in hill country. I found it a rather crude display, but it was the character of the room. It was as out of place as we all had come to be.

"I wanted to make this my trophy den, but Havier didn't like that idea. Still I put it on him good enough to let me add at least one from the hunt. Ain't that right sweety!"

"Poor Bambi" I muttered. 

Havier left the room to get more drinks.

"He's kinda quiet tonight" Patrick started "I realized things might be a little awkward between the two of you, but I didn't know how else to get you two together. Though I wished you would have called and let me know you were coming."

"Pat. Havier and I are fine. We just watched a DVD and chilled. He misses you is all" I lied.

"Well. That's good. I want to ask you something." Before he could get to what he wanted to say Havier came back into the room with our beers.

"No more for you?"

"I'm going to meditate in the garden for a bit. I told Emanuel he could take the copy of Fevreblau. I'll order you another from Amazon."

"That's fine. I was going to ask you to take some of the books if you wanted" Patrick said looking from Havier back to me. Havier left the room and Patrick leaned in close and waited for the sound of a door to close before he started talking. 

"You and I need to talk."

I told him there was nothing to talk about, and that we were already talking. The fact that he and Havier ended up together was just the course of things. "Manny" he offered "just listen to me. I was wrong. We have been fucking up with each other since we were kids, but now the stakes are getting too high." I looked as if I didn't know what he was talking about.

"Are you clean" he asked. The question made me angry. Truth was I'd been clean for about three months, but couldn't and didn't want to stop myself when Havier made the offer. "All this stuff. We've got to stop it."

"What are you talking about" I demanded. "Stop what?" The anger grew. "You were fucking Havier before I even had a chance to kiss him goodnight practically, that's normal for you. You've taken everything I ever wanted! Why stop?" 

"I'm trying to say, I guess what I want to say is can we start over?" My eyebrows curled up toward my scalp in disbelief. I laughed. 

"What the hell is wrong with you? I should be asking you the same question then? Are you clean? Because it sounds like you've got life fucked" 

"No. I'm not, and I'm sorry that I ever got you started on it. The problem is that Havier is hooked but he takes it too far."

The place my brother was trying to get was crazy. I didn't want an apology, I wanted my esteem back. But he had taken that too, or I had given it up to the pipe, a pill, the drink, or a strange dick up the ass. 

"We've got to fix things between us" he went on. "I've been seeing someone."

"Oh really. Does Havier know?"

"Shut up. That's not what I'm talking about." I looked at him as though my face were a mask without expression. Knowing the ways of Patrick, he knew what my sullen look meant. I didn't believe him, but it didn't matter. "I love Havier." It was meant to be reassuring, and I did believe he loved Havier. Three years had been spent trying to get away from that fact only to have it staring me in the face in the form of a dear with plastic eyes. Patrick never talked about stuff, we didn't do that, at least not with each other so he was telling me he was in a program.

"That's nice" I said "good for you."

"No. It's not. Havier is loyal to me, but I think. Well I think if he had the chance to do it over, he'd pick you." He isn't that loyal I almost added.

"I don't like where this is going" I stood up. Patrick stepped over and held me by my shoulders.

"I love Havier" he said again to which I was thinking, yes we've already established that. "I really love him" he said moving closer to me so that our lips almost touched. The sky seemed to flicker as though on cue from the shadow of a plane overhead or something. I don't know. A touch of 'Almost' became a moment of the past. I tensed for a moment but gave in. For the first time I tasted my brothers tongue kiss as our lips touched. We became aroused. His cock pressed against my own and there was a kind of heat between us that I had never felt. "But," he continued "I'm in love with you. I always have been. That's our problem."

"What the fuck is that?"

"That's me saying that we have issues Emanuel, we always have and always will unless we can work through them..." 

"Guys. What's going on?" The question froze us like two jocks caught mastergating in the shower. Should they run or pretend it was nothing?

"Nothing. We were just having a discussion. Go to bed Havier." The tone he took was that of the master. The role of him being in the life had changed. It was Havier who crawled and groveled to be used as a foot rest and human ashtray.

Havier looked at me then back at Patrick said yes sir and turned away. The exit was loaded in defeat. We stood there in silence until Havier was gone. It was odd I realized that I'd long lost count of how many times I didn't know what to say to Patrick. So I said something stupid.

"Havier and I fucked last night!"

Four: Prelude

I'd waited for him for about six to eight minutes while thumbing through a local paper gay press." Nothing in it caught my eye, nothing news worthy, nothing so shocking that I was compelled to pick it up. It just happened to be the best way to pass the time before meeting him, before hearing his voice in person for the first time and shaking his hand only to later want that hand all over my body.

Havier approached me from the left entrance of the train station recognizing me by the 'Garageband.com' shirt I said I'd wear. He said hello with a confidence free of doubt and fear of blunder. I liked that. On his face he wore a smile that peered through tinted glasses, a lime green T-shirt that eluded to his form, khaki shorts and sandals.

We shared a sandwich at a little coffee dive that can be found inside bookstore chains across the country - only we made that one special. He'd cut a couple of bites for me as we chatted about art, and the profoundness of life. We gave up nothing overtly sexually during those short moments, but opted to stroll and fumble through periodicals while interchanging ideas of what to do next. It was decided that we'd catch a movie so I suggested "Y Tu Madre Tambien" – which is roughly translated as 'yo mama.' We both enjoyed it profusely, hmmm well maybe not that, but the company made it the best film of the year. 

We laughed, we rubbed elbows, we sat close and whispered emotional despair and joy of what we were seeing. The film gave us up to the night. We returned to the streets following down a circular path of escalators to the first floor then out the exit and onto the walk sidling through droplets of rain. Non of those drops hit us, instead they fell around us in soft reflective pools. Asphalt beneath. The air was cool and drew him closer to me contemplating where our steps would lead as I loaned him my invisible jacket.

"You are such a gentleman," he said. 

After a few long city blocks we decided to go into Javacha for a little something to drink. I got a banana chocolate smoothie, and he tried bubble tea. I told him to stay away from the jasmine cause the fragrance reminded me of toilet paper. He laughed the most joyous sound I had ever heard.

Toward the front there were love seats by the windows, magazines to read, and a place to rest weary feet. Though uncertain of all things, I was still trying to summize his body language to know for sure if he was 'into me' or not. I didn't want to jump to conclusions only to be completely wrong. We were leaning in close to each other chatting and laughing, weaving our tales. The urge I'd felt to kiss him had grown tremendously. The seed had been planted back during the movie I think, or maybe well before, from that first or second email a month prior, from that first or second phone conversation two weeks earlier. Never the less, he graced my hand with his and it felt as though that was the right hand. From one touch, it was the right hand to touch mine. Never had that thought before entered my mind, and it's silly I know but I couldn't have dreamed him any better.

I could say for the first time in my life I had the perfect date, right down to the goodnight kiss.

It was time for me to go:

We both had to get up early the next day for work. We shuffled our way back along the empty destination paths. No one else mattered. If we passed others like ourselves I didn't notice, he was all that I saw. My body learned the way he flirted, brushing his shoulder to mine as we walked, or gently reaching up to massage them with perfect fingers. His hands are that of an artist, a painter, a chef, a craftsman, and gardener all rolled into one. I suppose we complimented each other. 

We are going to handle this like lesbians, I thought.

Around 11:25 we staggered to nervously face each other. Two school boys knowing what to do but not knowing how to start. 

"I was trying to figure out how to say goodbye," he said.

'Yeah, me too."

With that, and a moment plus we hugged and he gave forth his lips to meet my own for the first time. I was only expecting a quick little smack and then move on. He needed to go North, and I South. I was afraid of what people would think, or what people would do. But he kissed me instead, and in doing so the fear vanquished and no one broke the spell. He kissed me like he meant it. He kissed me like I wanted him to before we'd ever met, like the one in a dream fast forwarding through time in which you can't wait to get to the good part. Well, I hoped that was my good part. 

The following night we would talk on the phone for almost three hours.

Our embrace unfolded. "Goodbye."

'Goodnight' I said.

He pretended to do sign language and we both had grins on our faces and a glow about our persons. With his eye he followed my hand into my pocket as I pulled out my cell phone to call him. 

'Hey' I said, 'thanks for a great night' he smiled, said the same and waved as got into a cab. 

Five

That meeting seemed so far from gone. It had fluttered like a glass butterfly and broken into pieces when I tried to touch its wings. Too delicate to capture. All of that came back to me as I uttered the words again. "Havier and I fucked last night." 

"I heard you the first time." Patrick went to bed angry. He and Havier fought for three hours before they settled down. He was right. We had things to work through. I lay there that night until the fighting stopped thinking about what all of it meant. The urge to get high dwelled in the corner of my mind but I didn't. The three months I'd been cleaned turned to six, then thirty-six in my mind, until I lost count. No more.

I sat at the top of the stairs listening to the slow motion sound of bed springs as Patrick banged away at the prize he owned. Havier seemed to have been putting on a show, saying the same things he said with me only louder. I fingered the cream that seeped from my hard-on waiting for my turn.

In the middle of the night, Havier came to my room after Patrick passed out just like I hoped. We made love in silence. The next day he was gone and Patrick and I were left to work out the prelude to a kiss that had started three years prior.



Glass Canyon Connection



My boss, Sid Jamison, had told me that tonight was one of "those" nights and that I was to be in his office at precisely 8:15. Such a summons was not that unusual; Jamison had been fucking me regularly for a couple of months on the desk top in his office after hours. I didn't mind this, because he was really hot and not all that old and he was being really good to me professionally. But I thought it a little strange that he'd given a precise time I should be there.

We worked in one of those all-glass downtown high-rises, where land was at such a premium that the office buildings faced each other closely across narrow canyons bottomed by busy streets. Jamison's office was on the eighteenth floor, and he got off on topping me in front of floor-to-ceiling glass in the early evening hours while it was still light and while the traffic noise from below was still at a high level. But at 8:15 this time of year, it would be darker out than when we usually fucked in his office. Not a problem for me, because I hadn't planned anything that evening, but it meant I had to stay around in the office a little longer than usual.

I showed up to his office early and he kept me up against the wall, just inside the door, for several minutes, while he got us all hot and bothered with his roaming hands and lips. We undressed each other there and then rubbed chests, bellies, and cocks until we were both panting and hard for each other. He went down on me there, my back up against the wall and him kneeling between my thighs. He was really good with his tongue and teeth and the soft inner sides of his cheeks, not to mention his fingers at my balls and back door, and it wasn't long until I'd creamed his tonsils and nearly collapsed on top of him, with my knees buckling at the intensity of the cocksucking.

It was almost precisely 8:30 when Jamison stood and led me over to his desk. I couldn't have asked for a more studly guy bossing me around. I took my usual stance on the desk top: on my back; butt at the edge of the desk, legs open wide, held by my hands: my back to those floor-to-ceiling glass windows. I was waiting, all atremble, as usual, for those lips at my ass, followed by the cool feel of the KY, and then by the invigorating drive of that seven-inch, very thick cock that I'd come to love plowing my canal.

But tonight, to my surprise, Jamison told me to come down off the desk and turn around, stand on the floor, feet wide apart and lay my chest on the desk top. I did as he asked—he, after all, was the boss. And as he was pressing his face into my crack, successfully finding my puckered hole, and giving that attention with his lips and tongue, I rested my cheek on the desk blotter and sighed and moaned for him, assuring him that I was enjoying his attentions to me. His face came away and his teeth gave my butt cheeks a little nip here and there, causing me to writhe a bit, rubbing my rehardening dick on the leather surface of Jamison's executive desk. I gave a little lurch and yelp and instinctively grabbed for the corners of the desk with my hands and jerked my head up as I felt the first of his KY-slathered fingers enter me and begin to probe.

When my head came up, my eyes went to the window, and, instinctively, to the glass office tower immediately across the narrow street canyon from our own glass office tower. Few lights were on over there, so it wasn't hard for me to zero in on a brightly lit office in the mirroring building just about opposite from ours and two stories higher. That particular window was arresting, because there was a young, well-cut man leaning against that window, looking out, seemingly looking directly at me. The most arresting aspect of that young man was that he was stark naked, his hands spread out wide and supporting him against the window, his forehead plastered to the window, his legs out at a wide stance—and another naked, bulky and hirsute, but not exactly fat, man kneeling behind him, his face buried in the young man's butt, and his arms around the young man's legs, hands tightly holding the young man's thighs.

I could clearly see the young man's face, and his facial expression at having his ass eaten out was surely, I thought, no less pleasure driven than my own was at what Jamison was doing at my back door.

As I watched, the hairy man across the divide stood. I saw his hand glide back around the young man's hips, and I saw the young man lurch as the hairy man forced fingers into his asshole. I knew that was what he was doing, because at the same time, the second of Jamison's fingers forced its way into my ass, and I also lurched. The hairy man brought his body in close behind that of the young man, and his lips went to the hollow of the young man's neck. They both seemed to have their eyes glued on me. I felt Jamison lower his chest closely on my shoulder blades, his fingers still in my asshole, and he kissed and nuzzled the hollow of my neck. I licked my lips and moaned, not sure whether I was doing this on my own or suggestively, because the young man across the glass canyon was doing the same.

Jamison came up off my back; the hairy man pulled away from the young man's back. Jamison clutched my hips; the hairy many clutched the young man's hips. In one swift, painful movement, Jamison entered me with his seven thick inches and plowed up to the root. I howled to the ceiling in pain and surprise, and grabbed back at him with my hands, trying to pull him off me. But my eyes were glued to the window, where the hairy man had impaled the young man in one swift movement and the young man had lifted his head and howled to the ceiling and clutched back at the hands imprisoning his hips with his own hands.

The young man's eyes were linked to mine, beseeching me for help, trying to convey his pain and suffering at having been possessed so fully and brutally. But I couldn't help him; I was trying to seek the same solace from him. Mouths open in a screams that almost made the separating window glass between us reverberate, the young man and I shared our debauching and Jamison stroked my ass with his huge tool swiftly and deeply and the hairy man stroked the ass of his prisoner equally swiftly and deeply. All four of us were in a quartet of open mouths, cries of passion, and slitted eyes.

Jamison and the hairy man were keeping the same rhythm and tempo, almost as if they were doing so on purpose, and I knew exactly the point at which my pain was overridden by the pleasure of this wild fuck because my emotions were being exactly mirrored in the eyes of that young man across the glass canyon divide. Everything was all right now. No, more than all right—ecstasy. I was having the hot ride of my life, and it was only being enhanced because I saw that my young counterpart was also having the hot ride of his life. I writhed and moaned and slammed my hips back to meet each thrust of Jamison, just as the young man was doing to his hairy attacker.

And I knew exactly when Jamison would release and flood my insides with his rich cream because I could see the point of release in the eyes of the hairy man. And my mouth joined that of the young man in my cry of joy at being filled so fully and so deeply.

Jamison collapsed onto my back, and the hairy man collapsed against the young man onto the window across the canyon. The hairy man lifted a hand to the young man's cheek and turned his face fully to the window, making the young man's eyes latch onto mine for a last time. Jamison was doing the same to me, and I could see the hairy man whispering in his young lover's ear just as Jamison whispered in mine.

"See that man over there, the hairy one?" Jamison whispered. "That's my pal Ned Treadwell. He and I planned this little mirroring encounter for you and his young employee. I hope you liked it."

I'll never be able to fully tell Jamison just how hot this glass canyon connection was for me. 



Glass Catalyst



Work ended, miraculously, earlier than usual on Friday and the last thing I needed was that phone call from Olivia informing me of a newly available townhouse. Yes, my brother and I had been viewing places for well over two months with meager results but honestly - it was Friday. If Olivia didn't happen to be my brother's long-time friend and if she hadn't been killing herself trying to find us the perfect home, I would have probably blown her off.

"Victoria Street and what? Bronte?" I hollered into my cell, hating that she had me on speaker in her car.

"Yeah, Victoria and Bronte. I'll meet you there." Olivia's voice, likewise, came through much too loudly.

The drive there was delightfully short. So for once, the place was actually located in the neighborhood we wanted. Turning onto the narrow street, the second thing to impress me was the amount of mature trees in the sidewalk pits. I parked my car in 'visitors' and got out. All the townhouses on the strip were doubles --which was a rare find- with gorgeous Edwardian exteriors. Even the lawns were faultless and a nearly unrealistic shade of green.

"It's around 1800 square feet and just came on the market today," Olivia said, marching up the walk behind me. "Hi Mika."

"Hi Liv," I smiled and stepped out of her path so she could get to the entryway stoop.

She unlocked the front door but paused before fully opening it. Over her shoulder, she gave me an up-and-down look. "What's with the skirt?"

I was very much a jeans and t-shirt kind of girl and fairly sure Olivia never saw me in anything else. This should have been perhaps embarrassing considering I was in my late twenties and, according to most cultures, an official adult.

"Conference downtown. You know, had to gain the confidence of those bigwigs in corporate," I told her, beginning to feel a bit self-conscious under her steel-gray stare.

"You look hot," she said and disappeared inside. 

The complimented not only took me by surprise me but also thrilled me since, in secret, I was flat out intimidated by her. Despite knowing Liv through my brother during most of my teen years, I never really got to know her on my own until recently. Being a real estate agent, she was very successful. Not long ago, she also launched a joint partnership painting company. She owned an impressive home, a cottage in Muskoka country and drove a luxury car. Most women in her position were stuck-up, narcissistic bitches. Olivia, however, was ethically professional and emitted a vulnerable innocence which made her incredibly alluring. I could see why any guy, including my brother, would find that attractive. My brother stopped seeing her after college but they managed to stay comfortable friends.

A large mirror hung in the foyer of the townhouse and so of course the first thing I did was check myself out. The charcoal colour of my casual business ensemble complimented my black hair and fair skin. My mossy green eyes stood out like emeralds amongst all the black and white. Perhaps I didn't have the greatest chest (I was a moderate B cup) but I was lean and had an amazing ass. I took a moment to adjust my skirt which had fit perfectly at the store but turned out to be a little too short. Subsequently, I had spent most of the day pulling it down.

"You coming?" Liv asked from half-way up the stairs.

Her arms were sternly crossed over her full breasts causing her cleavage to be drastically extenuated. A slight smile spread on her rosy lips and I realized I had been staring. Even her rack was intimidating. 

I cleared my throat. "So this is the first floor?"

Olivia nodded. "An interesting feature of this place is that this floor includes only the staircase, closet and a laundry space. Most townhouses with this much square footage have some fictitious 'media room' down here." 

She made her way up the first flight of steps, explaining as she went. "That alone will add a significant amount to your resale value. You're still planning to move within two years, yes?"

"Uh yeah. Two years," I repeated obtusely.

"You've got an open concept kitchen and a dinette with a walkout patio. It's been re-tiled recently and the appliances are all only about three years old."

White ash cabinets and thin, horizontally long, tiles on the backsplash gave the kitchen a very modern aspect which I really liked. I ran my hand across the slate countertops, enjoying their irregular texture. 

"Check out the view," Liv encouraged, motioning to the sliding doors adjacent to the kitchen.

I approached them and noticed that this row of townhouses banked onto a park, effectively creating a private view. "Wow. That's really nice," I admitted.

"Thought you'd say that." Liv smiled victoriously. "Now I know it's hard to tell because of the way it's set up but this living room is about fifteen by twenty-five feet."

"No separate dinning area?"

She hesitated and I could tell that, although she was expecting the question, she had been hoping that I didn't ask. 

"It is certainly large enough to be divided and serve as both rooms."

"I don't know Olivia, I mean Connor and I have a big family. I'm not sure we can fit a decent sized dinning table in here along with a living room," I said, in mock dissatisfaction.

Liv crossed her arms again, her sleek, oyster-gray pantsuit even more perfectly hugging her curves than before. Her tits looked about ready to pop out of that low cut top. I was sure it's what she subconsciously did when negotiating house prices with brokers. On top of that she had honey-toned skin and natural, pale blonde hair so that probably helped land plenty of deals as well.

"A table that seats up to eight guests is roughly thirty-six by seventy-eight and would comfortably fit in the second half of this area," she recited coolly, not at all pleased I was provoking her.

"Judging by your stance, I can tell I've upset you," I teased, clearly aiming my eyes at her accentuated cleavage this time. "Is that what you do to win over clients?"

A ghost of a smile touched her mouth. "Let's move on to the next floor. Why don't you lead? The stairs are behind you." There was a challenge to her voice that I didn't comprehend until she was climbing the stairs below me. 

"White panties? How sensible. Hope those big wigs were impressed."

"Shut up," I grumbled, attempting to pull my skirt down and heard her snickering.

"This first room is set up as an office," she said, nudging the door open for me once we were upstairs.

A lone and oversized mahogany desk stood in the center. The desktop was bare except for a single framed photograph, a glass award of some kind and a laptop which lay neatly closed off to the side. The glass award was for some sort of fiscal company achievement from the previous year. Its shape was cylindrical; approximately the length and diameter of a wide-barrel curling iron standing up. The peak of it was tapered and it sat on a fat, rectangular prism base. Raised, cobalt flames circumscribed the otherwise smooth sides of the clear glass.

Olivia had begun talking about the various points of the room but I found I wasn't listening at all. I had been transported back in time to when I was sixteen. Back to when puberty wrecked havoc with hormones and any smooth, oblong shape made me think of masturbating. Unless I was alone, I easily squashed this type of thinking. But now, even with Liv right there in the room, I was imagining how that glass trophy might feel in my pussy. My eyes guiltily shot to Liv but she was completely oblivious.

"This window faces the front of the neighborhood and due to its position, allows for a lot of natural light. Let's go to the second bedroom which can act as your guestroom," she said and moved on.

Reluctantly, I trailed after her. She showed me the other bedroom, a 3-piece bathroom and the master with an en suite. The master had a spacious, custom built walk-in closet and rustic hardwood floorboards. Yet all I could think of was that glass award and I was growing embarrassingly wet. My over-stimulated brain began devising ways in which I could distract Olivia, sneak into the office and just steal the damn thing. 

Finally, I couldn't stand it anymore. I knew I wasn't actually going to pilfer it but I needed to at least take one more glance at its long, deliciously solid shape.

"Can we look in the office again? I want to check out something." 

"No problem." Liv smiled and I hoped that I would think of something legitimate to inspect in the room. 

Once we were again standing in the office, I let my eyes roam around until they landed on the window. 

"You said that the angle of this window allows for a lot of sunlight. Doesn't that mean the room gets muggy?" I asked, completely too proud of myself for coming up with the lie.

As soon as she walked to the window, focusing her attention there, I moved toward the mahogany desk.

"Well it faces south-west, so yes you get a lot of sunlight. But the rays don't directly shine inside the room for the whole day," she said, peeping through the blinds.

"Uh-huh," I answered as I moved to casually lean against the desk, pretending to face the window with her. Now that it lay so close, the temptation to touch the award was overwhelming. 

"Even so, I bet it gets pretty hot in this tiny room," I said mindlessly, just to keep her distracted. 

A tiny bolt of electricity shot through my clit when I picked up the heavy object. Still resting against the edge of the desk, I crossed my legs trying to squeeze my pulsating pussy. It felt so good I had to let out a soft, pleasurable sigh.

"Not really," Liv said sounding far away. "I mean there's a lot of sun coming in right now. Do you feel that hot?" She turned around and we made unsteady eye contact. 

Her eyes traveled down to the glass award I held, then back to my face. Something in my expression told her exactly what I was thinking and why I had the stupid thing in my hands and she looked absolutely outraged. Fuck. This was someone's home and I was manhandling their private possessions, thinking totally inappropriate thoughts. How the hell was I going to explain that as a grown woman, I had succumbed to adolescent-like urges? 

"I uh . . . this is a nice award," I said softly, feeling my face flush.

I didn't know what to do and so just sat there motionless wishing I'd have the sense to just put it down so we could both forget this happened. 

"Think so?" Liv asked after a pause during which she judged me with narrowed eyes, head tilted back slightly and I felt even more idiotic.

She plucked it out of my hands. "It's heavy."

"Yeah . . ." I replied. 

There was something underlying her words which made me nervous. Needless to say, I thought I knew exactly what was going on but refused to believe it. Not coming from the professional and career-driven Olivia anyway.

"And so thick," she added, running a fingertip over the bulging flames along the profile.

Almost entirely on purpose, I shifted, rubbing my pussy lips against the curved brim of the desk to see her reaction. Liv took note of this and stepped closer, holding up the glass object in both hands, acting as if she was examining it. My heart was hammering in my chest.

"I wonder what else it could be used for," she said, looking up at me. Her silver-gray eyes had turned a dim, smoky colour and a shiver ran through my body. 

"I don't know—" I exhaled sharply when she ran the cool tip of the award along my bare thigh. 

"I think you do know," she said and started to caress the line where my legs were firmly stuck together. She added a bit of pressure and reflexively I open them, creating a small gap and causing my already short skirt to ride up higher.

"Wider," Liv commanded.

"Liv . . ," I objected but couldn't finish when she shot me a furious look.

"You wanted me to do this," she pointed out.

A burning sensation spread out over my skin and I obeyed her, letting my knees drift apart further. The rounded end quickly disappeared under the hem of my skirt and I held back a moan when Liv pressed the glass award against the cotton-covered entrance to my pussy. 

"Were you even listening to anything I was saying or were you imagining playing with this the whole time? Do you know how hard I worked to be the first to be allowed to view this place" Liv asked, pressing in the award hard enough to hurt.

Incredibly, I moaned. "I'm sorry."

"You're sorry you're a horny bitch? Is that why you're sorry?"

"Yes," I whimpered and began rolling my hips, grinding the glass head.

My skirt had ridden up to my waist, exposing my panties and Liv snatched the elastic, yanking them down. She thrust the award between my legs again, allowing me to rub my swollen lips against the phallic glass. But she wouldn't allow it to penetrate me. 

"Please Liv." I panted, opening my legs wider. "Please."

I watched a shudder go through her; she was getting off on this as much as I was and when I pushed down again she pushed back. There was a bit of resistance and I moaned as the broad tip began spreading me open. My wetness was smeared all over the glassy head and dripped down on the desk but it still wasn't entering. Liv gently twisted, angling it up and down and suddenly it popped inside.

"Oh fuck!" I inhaled sharply, my body shaking from the thick invasion between my legs.

Slowly, Liv inserted it deeper but the breadth was much wider than I expected and I winced.

"You can take it," she whispered and for some reason I wanted to take it, to please her. I ground down hard on the glass award, pushing more of it inside. A high, kneeing sound escaped my throat.

"That's it," Olivia breathed out and used her other hand to rub my clit. More of it went in, the raised flame design massaging my inner walls. Finally the full length was inside me. We both watched as she slid it in and out, my pussy lips stretching around it. As soon as I adjusted to the size and the pain went away, I insanely wanted more. I attempt to drive my legs apart more but my position on the desk prevented me from this.

"Here," Liv said, stopping momentarily to transfer the laptop further to the left. "Lean back more."

I scooted backwards on the desk and shifted so I rested on my elbows. 

"Put your heels up on here." 

She helped me lift my legs on either side, spreading me wide in front of her and it completely changed the sensation.

"Oh my god, yes. Yes," I moaned while she began fucking me with the award again. 

"Look at how big this is," Liv panted in my ear. "Splitting that pussy open."

"Oh Liv, it feels so good," I cried out, accepting her forceful thrusts. 

Sweat was breaking out over my skin as I moved faster with her. I could feel my orgasm building almost in the pit of my stomach, bit by bit traveling lower. When it hit, I threw my head back, continuing to drive down onto the glass award. My breath hitched and a current of heat came from somewhere deep within and branching outward, my fingers and toes tingling. 

Before I could control to my quivering body, Liv grabbed my hand and shoved it into her pants, using my fingers to bring herself off quickly. She bit her lip when she came and then braced against the desk. I regretted instantly that I couldn't pleasure her the way she pleasured me. 

At least a minute passed before either one of us went about attempting to clean up the mess we made. My white panties were dangling off one of my ankles and they were uncomfortably moist when I pulled them back on. Home was a short car ride away and I could deal with them until then. The really awkward part was picking up the award and going to the washroom to rinse it off. Olivia unlocked the window when I came back in and cranked it open. I could only imagine what the room smelled like.

"That was— " The sound of people downstairs cut me off.

"Shit," Liv hissed and went to rearrange the items on the desk to their previous positions, including dragging the laptop back into place.

"Do I look okay?" I asked, fixing my skirt and then fanning my face.

She glanced over. "Yeah, you're just slightly flushed. What about me?"

Similarly, she adjusted her clothing and looked to me for an assessment. Aside for a few loose strands of hair, Liv looked completely professional. I reached over to smooth them down 

"We're going to have to talk about this later," I told her under my breath while the new house guests made their way up the stairs just outside the office.

"Yes. We are," she replied crisply and then greeted the real estate agent who walked in through the door with his clients.



Glass Desk



If you're under 18, don't read these stories. Skip or erase the file. If you're over 18, you can officially decide for yourself.

The following is a work of fiction containing scenes of graphic nc sex. This story includes elements of restraint and non-technical bondage.

Content is my own (Monocle), copyright 1999-2003, (as are the typos, and spelling & grammar errors), and any resemblance to persons or events living or dead or stories already written is purely coincidence. 

Hope you like it.

Monocle

* * * * *

Mrs. Smith awakens enclosed in a dark glass box. Her chest lays on a padded surface almost as wide as her waist, which comes up to just under her breasts. A two inch wide extension passes up between them. Her full, round breasts hang unclothed and free on either side. Her wrists are secured to each other with a soft but unyielding binding behind her back. The pad is tilted slightly forward, so her head is below her raised rear. Her lower thighs and knees are strapped and cradled on their own curved pads, and splayed wide apart. A wide belt around her stomach secures her lower back to the cool, smooth top surface of the box, while another firm strap wraps around her back, and under her arms to attach to the small pad extension near her sternum. Her bound hands rest in the wedge formed by her back and the glass top. Her lower legs are almost horizontal on their pads, so she is almost kneeling, but bent far forward. She tries to move her limbs and finds that every part of her body is secured snugly to the contoured pads. Her struggles also make her realize that the various surfaces are touching naked skin. Now she becomes aware of air currents blowing on her exposed upper thighs, ass, and pussy.

Lights come on, and she can see through the smoked glass of the box wall and top. She is in a lavishly appointed office, and a leather covered stuffed chair faces her. She looks around, her neck the only part of her body with freedom of movement, and realizes she appears to be encapsulated in a large glass desk. An unfamiliar man walks in, and Mrs. Smith calls out for help. She can only see up to his suited chest, as papers and panels on the glass desktop block her view of his face. No sound seems to carry through.

The man walks around the desk and sits down behind it; behind her. With a shock she feels fingers on her pussy lips. With no preamble, they start to rub and massage her. The touch is light and gentle, but also mechanical and certainly without tenderness. She yells out in protest, but again, the sound seems not to travel. Her flexing thighs and ass only quiver against the hands' touch. The fingers are wet, spreading a warm oily substance over her lips and pushing it slowly into her cunt with one, then two, then three fingers, until the digits can plunge in and out with little friction. The sensation is base and humiliating to Mrs. Smith, but not painful. Nonetheless she cries and sobs in unheard protest. Once the lubrication is completed, there is a brief pause, and she can feel a chair sliding up behind her, between her bound and spread thighs. 

She jerks again at the contact of a hot, fat cockhead at her pussy entrance. Her private muscles contract, and she screams in fear and desperation, but no sound emerges from her small prison. For a couple minutes nothing happens. The flared head rests against her opening, just pushing aside her labia majora - the hard pressure at her now wet entrance throbs, but otherwise does not move. Her sheer and absolute vulnerability make her want to disappear into herself.

Then the door opens, and in walks Mr. Smith - his wife can see him clearly through the one-way glass. This is his job interview. The executive behind the desk is his boss-to-be - hopefully. The man presses a button on his desk and the window curtains open, letting natural light into the room. He presses the one next to it as Mr. Smith sits down not two feet from his imprisoned wife. This second button causes the framework holding Mrs. Smith to slide backward within the desk. As Mr. Smith settles down for the interview, Mrs. Smith is slowly impaled on the executive's cock. It is long and thick, and stretches her pussy wide as the mechanism pushes her onto it. She screams at the first penetration, but then simply gasps and inhales raggedly as she is filled beyond all previous experience.

Beneath the increasingly stretched and stuffed sensations within her, she dimly feels the hairy legs of the man against her thighs and belly as the cock bores ever deeper into her. Her ass touches, then presses into his lower stomach, feeling the fabric of his suit coat and pressed shirt. Her breaths come in short gulps as she adjusts to the cock now completely buried in her. Her inner muscles contract spastically, unused to this serious an intrusion. She moans helplessly and calls her husband's name.

The interview begins, Mr. Smith talking about his experience and ideas for the company, as he had practiced with his wife in past evenings. He works on appearing relaxed, legs crossed, and watches the interviewer for signs and clues for leading the discussion. He's doing it just like they had practiced together over the last week. On those times she had sat behind the table, pretending to be the interviewer and grilling him, the same way the man now filling her is grilling her husband.

After the a short pause in which Mrs. Smith can feel the hard cock throb and twitch inside her full-to-bursting pussy, the desk mechanism begins rocking and sliding Mrs. Smith on the exec's cock. It moves slowly at first, sliding her almost completely off the meaty pole, then pushing her back on again balls deep. She wails as she is sunk again onto the shaft. The pace quickens as the interview continues. She is pulled off and pushed onto the stranger's cock with increasing force and speed, but there is always a short pause between motions, when she is fully fucked and pressed against the man behind her. It is as if to remind her each time how effectively she is being held for and used by this cock. The box absorbs her cries and sobs. The lubricated motions of her cunt up and down the shaft produce no sound significant enough emerge from the desk. The machine itself operates so quietly that there is nothing for Mr. Smith to notice. 

As she is drawn of the invading phallus once more, through tear-blurred vision, Mrs. Smith notices one last feature of her confinement - a curiously angled mirror in front of and below her. When she is mostly withdrawn from the cock, the view shows only her torso lying on its pad and her hanging breasts. As she is drawn once again onto the interviewer's cock, her own face moves into the reflection, and she can see her own tear stained and frightened eyes. Those eyes widen when she realizes that in the reflection behind her, she can also see what can only be the face of the interviewer.

The man behind the desk is poker-faced; absolutley nothing betrays the debauch taking place below the desktop. Again and again, he disappears and reappears from view as the desk now heaves her on and off his cock. She can't help but watch mesmerized at the only available focus for her torment. She feels him shift slightly in his seat as she is drawn off him, and cries out in protest again as she is brought back onto him - his cock pressing even deeper into her now. As she gasps for air, she sees her reflection and his behind it. He is looking at her. Whether he can see though that part of the desk, or simply knows where to look, Mrs. Smith has no idea. But his eyes are cold and knowing, staring into hers. His cock flexes in her pussy, and then he looks up to ask another question of her husband. Mrs. Smith sobs and groans as the desk moves her again.

In the latter part of the interview, the desk begins to fuck Mrs. Smith onto the huge cock savagely, without stopping at any one point. The flared head spikes into her constantly, repeatedly. All the while, the man behind her betrays not even a tremor. She sees him look down at her twice more, and each time, she shudders at the gleam in his eyes.

The interview comes to a conclusion, and the desk is fucking Mrs. Smith onto the cock furiously now. Her breath comes in gasps as she is shaken back and forth. Her breasts sway and shake with the rough movement. Now the interview is over, and Mr. Smith stands to shake the exec's hand. As the interviewer raises his right hand, his left comes to rest on another button on his desk. Mrs. Smith is shoved hard onto the cock one last time and held there. As the men two shake hands firmly, locking eyes, the exec's cock swells and cums inside her, filling her with his semen. The spurts of cum throb in time to the shaking of hands - she can feel the sticky warmth slowly spread deep inside her. The glass prison swallows her desperate screams as her cunt fills with and swallows his seed.

Mr. Smith leaves, and in the next minutes the slowly deflating cock slides out of his bound wife, allowing copious cum to start trickling down her legs. She can see his face again through the mirror. He looks down and smiles at her. She shudders. A hand gently pats her exposed bottom. The exec hits an intercom button and his voice fills her small space. 

"Congratulations Mrs. Smith, your husband is the right man for the job." Then, he adds, "We have a space in our company for you, too, but I'm afraid the two jobs come as a matched set. He only gets his position if you accept yours. I'll leave you to think about it while I get your husband set up with the relevant paperwork. My assistant will explain corporate policy to you, too, somewhat later."

The intercom switches off, and the face behind her disappears. After a minute, Mrs. Smith feels more motion behind her. A thick, pulsing dildo slides up her cum-slick cunt. Though slightly thinner, it is longer than the exec's cock, and the head pushes up snugly against her cervix, while the lumpy base is pressed into her labia and clit. It begins to vibrate, spreading unwanted electric feelings up her spine. She moans in her silent box. A second, lubricated dildo pokes at her rear entrance. Mrs. Smith has never even considered anal sex in her life, and screams and struggles weakly as her virgin ass is slowly invaded. This dildo is thinner, but almost as long as the first, with wider and narrower parts, like a string of small rubber balls. She moans and sobs with the feel of each bulbous section stretching her sphincter and then being pulled all the way in by her own contractions. She begins to feel like a stuffed bird. Once the flared base of the second device is nestled between her asscheeks, it too begins to vibrate. The double vibrations on within her most sensitive areas oscillate wickedly, teasing and massaging her insides as nothing ever has before.

The dildoes are locked into place behind her somehow, and before the executive leaves, he presses a last few buttons on his desk. The curtains close, the room lights dim, and one wall of the office opens up onto the executive hallway, allowing Mrs. Smith to see into several other richly appointed offices similar to the one she is in. She can see four more glass desks, three of them with men sitting at them whose faces she cannot make out. All the desks are illuminated from within, each with its own female captive. Each one of their faces is contorted in horror, or disgust, or... passion, as one of the women clearly is in the throes of intense orgasm.

Lights inside the desk-prison come on. Now she cannot see out, as it is lighter inside than out. Mrs. Smith realizes that the one-way glass must now work the other way and anyone in the other offices or hall that cares to look would be able to see her. The realization is burned into her as the desk mechanism begins moving her again, sliding her almost completely off the fake cocks, her nose almost touching the glass front of the desk, then driving her back, until both dildoes are buried to their fullest within her. She grunts sharply, then shudders. The strong vibrations buzz deep inside her. The soft protrusions at the base of her vaginal intruder transfer them directly onto her sensitive clit.

A rhythm begins: the desk fucks her, the cocks undulate and vibrate within her as she is displayed to the company's executive branch. There is no way her body can resist the intense stimulation, try as she might. She does not know how long it takes, as there is nothing with her to measure time, but the relentless fucking and vibration eventually conquers her body, and she comes violently on the dildoes. Her screams of forced passion join others broadcast over the office intercom. 

As her cries die off, her spasming cunt and anal muscles can't help but continue squeezing the rubber cocks. The movements of the infernal contraption slow and stop, the dildoes coming to rest only half-in. The vibrations slacken. Mrs. Smith breaths a ragged sigh of relief. Perhaps it is over. She closes her eyes and prays it is. A slight sound draws her attention, and she opens her eyes to look down below her, where a section of the desk bottom is drawing back. Behind that section, positioned under her hanging breasts, are two funnel or plunger like devices, open upward. There is nothing she can do but wriggle and protest weakly as the cups slowly rise. Soon her tits are resting in the cups. They are slightly too small, so her flesh bulges over the edges, looking from the side like overfilled ice cream cones.

The cups are warm and wet with a slick fluid. When they press into her, they begin a mild suction. Mrs. Smith's breasts are drawn into the cups, the textured interior of them rubbing her sensitive flesh. As her nipples are drawn further in, randomly moving soft and wet objects tease them, very much like hot tongues might. Her nipples and aureoles are alternately suckled, licked and pinched. 

Mrs. Smith barely has time to get used to the new sensation, for the desk is now starting up again. First the vibrations increase to previous levels - then higher. Then the desk resumes sliding. She groans incoherently as she is fucked and sucked by the machinery. Mrs. Smith's over-stimulated body trembles weakly as the assault on her sanity begins.



Glass Elevator



It was dark that night, overcast and starting to rain as we walked past the employs leaving the Space Needle. One of my friends from work was on guard duty so sneaking in wasn't a problem. Lazy bastard is always asleep...

The anticipation was thick. So was the smell of sex. Neither of us could wait. Halfway up I hit the emergency stop button. No alarm, and the night guard was sound asleep.

I pinned you against the wall kissing and biting at your neck. Our hands pawing at each other. You wanted my cock so bad. But I made you ache for it. I opened your long over coat. I wasn't sure what you were wearing. I knew it wasn't much but I was surprised to see you naked. I kissed down your body and started to eat you glistening pussy. Sucking on your clit, nibbling a little. Your moans turned me on as much as your taste. I kissed my way back up. That was for me. You know I love how your pussy taste. But no more Mr. Nice Guy. Not tonight.

I pulled out my hard cock, pinned you back to the wall and lifter one of your legs as high of the ground as I could. There was no gentle. I forced my cock right in you. I know I went to deep when I saw you cringe and gasp. You love it though. Having your pussy filled with my hot young cock. We fuck deep like that for it seemed like hours. My cock stretching you pussy wider going deeper with each passing minute. My back was bleeding I was fairly sure from your scratching. And explaining away the bruises on your neck might be hard the next day.

My mouth was preoccupied with biting your neck and face to berate you with a slurry of filthy names like normal. I knew you'd listen when I told you.

"If you want this cock in your ass get on your knees you fucking whore!"

Like a dream there you were in the middle of the glass elevator looking out over the sound on all fours with your ass in the air. I knew you wanted it rough tonight. I wasn't sure your orgasm count but I knew it was at least three. No asking, no preparation. I slid my cock straight in to your ass all at once. You let out a little yep as I felt my cock pop all the way in your ass. You even tried to pull away but my cock just went deeper. I reached forward and pulled your hair back. Your head naturally followed. God the sound you made while my cock was filling your ass. It was like a symphony of erotica. The things we said, the way your ass gripped my cock. I'll never forget.

"You like that don't you, you slut. You like getting your ass fucked like some kind of street walking whore."

"Fuck me deeper daddy, I'm so close to cumming."

And I did. You were moaning ad thrashing an ecstasy. My cock making your ass cum even harder then your sweet pussy had. You calling me daddy was enough to send me to the edge. After your orgasm was starting to fade I pulled my cock out. You sighed. I knew you weren't finished and could have several more but it was my turns.

I grabbed the back of your head and got you up on your knees. My cock just came near your face. With out a word you sucked it into your mouth. Like fluid motion once I felt your tongue starting to twist around my head I started to fuck your face. I heard you gagging a bit as I slid down your throat. I'd pull off for you to take a breath before I'd shove my cock back in and start fucking your throat again.

"You like the way your ass taste on my cock? You fucking disgusting bitch. Suck your ass off my cock!"

My balls were getting heavy. They were aching as the bounced off your chin. I pull out form your throat arced my back. I saw your eyes light up as I started grunting. My hand aiming my hard cock right at your face. The first few shot arched over your head and hit the glass. But the rest glazed your face. My hot cum pooling by your nose in the corner of your eyes. It ran down your face. You tried licking what you could off your face before I shoved you towards the glass wall.

"I know you aren't going to waste any are you? Fucking cum guzzling slut."

I could have cum again right there.

"You know I'll do anything for your cum..." and longer pause"...daddy..."

You leaned in and licked the wall clean. Your fingers in your pussy. I heard you orgasm as you were licking my cum of the glass wall.

After a few minutes we dressed. I didn't let you clean the cum off your face tough, only out of your eyes. The cab driver was speechless. And the blowjob on the ride home was almost as good as the romp we just had.



Glass Elevator



We are just leaving a party, a wedding reception, so we are both dressed very formally.

The reception is in the restaurant of a fancy, multi-storey hotel.

The elevator is located by reception, and it is a transparent glass elevator, looking out over the lobby, reception, and the entrance of the restaurant.

The doors of the restaurant are open, so the party can still be seen going on inside.

You walk in front of me, into the elevator. Your hand is trailing behind you, holding my hand, and your head is looking seductively over your shoulder at me.

The dress you are wearing is long and loose, though your shoulders are uncovered. 

The tops of your breasts lie temptingly at the top, and you know how it makes me want you.

The elevator is empty when we enter, and I fumble for the top button, trying to do so without taking my eyes off of you.

You move to the outer glass surface, looking out over the scene outside.

As the doors close, I move directly behind you, pressing my body against yours.

You push back against me and lean your head back, exposing your neck to me purposefully.

Both your hands grip the railing in front of you strongly as my arms circle your waist and my lips begin to gently kiss your shoulder.

A small gasp escapes your lips at the attention I'm giving your neck, one of your most sensitive spots.

One of your hands reaches behind you, pressing itself against the front of my suit trousers. You couldn't help but notice the hard surface under the fabric, standing as straight as a flagpole against my body.

You hand shapes the material, outlining my rock hard man-ness. Your fingers move from the bottom to the top and back down again, outside the material

My mouth now kisses, licks and nibbles the ear near it, and my hot breath is loud to your hearing.

The elevator has stopped now on the top floor, and the doors open, but nobody is there to enter. After half a minute, the doors close by themselves again.

Down in the lobby below, a few people have left the restaurant, but they seem to be moving to retrieve their coats to leave the hotel.

You notice these things because of what you are about to do next.

Without turning around, you begin to pull up the back of your skirt. The amount of the material is such that, while the back of the dress rises to reveal your sexy, high-heeled legs, the front is still on the floor.

At this point, I guess what you're up to, so I dip down a little to grab the bottom of the back of your dress.

As I move the material up, I stretch out my finger, to touch the inside of your thigh as my hand moves higher and higher.

Together, your one hand and my other, raise the skirt high enough that our fingers brush up against the bottom of your sexy, firm ass.

You're wearing one of your favorite half-thongs, so the bottom part is exposed, soft and warm there.

My one hand immediately moves to cup the nearest part of it, squeezing it appreciatively.

With the front of the skirt still down to the floor and the back now being held up by my wrist, while my hand moves over the surface of your smooth, tight ass, your hand now moves back to my cock, bulging in the front of my trousers.

Your fingers fumble excitedly for the zipper, and you glance down again out the front of the elevator to the lobby below.

It seems that more people are leaving the party now, possibly 15 or 20 moving around down there between reception and the restaurant doors.

With my zipper now down to its lowest point, you reach inside. The material of my underpants is still between you and my hot, throbbing cock here, but when you move your hand higher, you shortly find that the small garment wasn't nearly big enough to contain the monster within, at it's full size.

Now it's just your fingertips, moving lightly across the soft skin of the upper half of my man-ness.

Meanwhile, my hand has been busy between your thighs and up and down the line of your ass.

I've circled a finger under the string there, and moving downward, the top of my finger soon brushes up against your full, pink lips.

From there, my fingertips move forward more, just beyond your lips, to the firm little button that I know gives you so much pleasure.

You lean forward slightly, to help me touch it better.

My other hand, which had been around your waist until now, also moves to the back, and holds the material there so that it doesn't get in the way of our mutual fondling.

But after a very short time of this, and with my hand beginning to feel wet down where it presses against your lips, you want more.

You pull my cock forward, toward the front of my trousers.

The zipper openning is too low there, so I do my best to help you with my free hand, just to lift the front of the trousers up high enough to get my cock out.

I start to withdraw my hand, moving not over but between your moist lips, parting them playfully as my hand moves back.

You are still pulling on my cock, moving it to you, and I need to bend my knees to get it down low enough to get between your legs.

Neither of us notices when the elevator starts to move again.

Between the two of us, we guide the tip of my cock to your wet lips. I bend my knees a little lower so that I may push upwards and not forward in this position. Slowly I enter into you.

The bell of the elevator rings, warning us that the doors are about to open.

Almost in a panic, we look out the elevator in front of us, but no one is directly there. I quickly wrap one arm around your waist and spin us both around, so that you are facing the opening doors, with me behind you.

The elderly couple that enters the elevator are unknown to us, but considering the formal attire, they must have been at the reception too. The woman nods and smiles at us, not really looking at our faces, which I imagine must be red as traffic lights by now.

The man with her looks at us briefly, then seems to look meaningfully into my eyes, but his expression communicates nothing to me. They both turn back to the doors of the elevator, away from us.

I think I may be able to feel your heart beating rapidly in your body on the arm I still have firmly wrapped around your waist. I know mine is pounding like a bass drum at our near discovery.

Nevertheless, I am still inside you, and almost as hard as before the doors opened. 

Neither of us has made a move to disengage. Both of us glance amusedly at the front of your skirt, which still reaches the floor in front. Our eyes meet and merry stars twinkle in yours and mine both.

The elevator seems to be moving like a turtle between the floors now, and I decide to tease you cruelly. I push myself a little deeper into you.

I can see you holding back a gasp of surprise at my audacity, and you give me a look of mixed fury and laughter.

Now it's your turn. You put your hands behind both of us, until you find the railing on the side of the elevator. With that to hold on to, you pull yourself back, sandwiching me between you and the glass front, squeezing my cock inside you as you do it. 

The blood of danger and lust rushing through me makes my eyes go blind for a second, and I hug you to me sweetly.

Finally, the elevator bell rings again and the door starts to open. The elderly couple never turn toward us as they leave, and if they have said anything at all in this time, I could never have heard it.

We wait, almost patiently for the doors to finish closing, then our lips join like animals, hotly and wildly seeking to increase the passion between us.

Almost at the same time, I begin to move inside you again, but you are trying to turn. You want to have your hands on that railing for support.

We do turn, in spite of my continued small thrusting, and you can see that we are again at the top of the hotel, with the lobby far below, still with at least 15 people milling about. This you barely notice as the blood and excitement now blind you.

My small thrusts have gotten longer now, and one of my hands is now cupped under the breast nearest it. My other hand is around the side of your leg, reaching, as much as possible for that little button I know will help you achieve your own climax soon.

No doubt we wouldn't be able to conceal our activities from anyone should they discover us now, but we're both beyond caring, feeling only our bodies moving against each other.

The pleasure builds quickly as I push into you deeper and faster, and my fingers push and rub your hard clit. Your hands have an iron grip on the railing in front of you, and your voice cries out softly with each thrust.

The climax comes as a strong ocean wave, affecting us as strongly as if we'd been swept off our feet. My head drops involuntarily, though the rest of my body is as tense as a guitar string. Your back arches like a cat stretching after its afternoon nap, your toes curl and your fingers could almost put scratches in the metal of the railing you're holding.

As the wave passes a bit, we stand weakly, catching our breath. Realizing together that you had cried out loudly at the moment of orgasm, we look below to the hotel's lobby. If anyone heard you, they don't seem to be looking now. Maybe the walls of the elevator are thicker than they look.

Again, our eyes meet, with my head over your shoulder, and mischief is deep in our eyes. We begin to giggle, then laugh at our risky adventure. I'm still inside you, standing there, but before I pull out, I put both arms strongly around your waist and hug you tenderly. You put your arms on top of mine and hug me too.