2 comments/ 81705 views/ 17 favorites The Pool House By: JamieRed The apartment complex is quiet at 8:30 in the morning, since most of those with 9-to-5 day jobs and kids have already headed out, and the retail workers haven't yet had breakfast. And the party boys aren't even feeling their hangovers yet. Most mornings there's a cool sting in the air, which perks up my sore nipples and feels refreshing on my burning ass. That's because at 8:30, I'm on my way back from what my apartment manager euphemistically calls my "daily rent payment." This started a few months ago, when I just could not put together enough money for the comfy but tiny studio I live in. He decided I could work it off, doing all those things his wife refuses to do. He likes to face fuck, and he loves the look of nipple clamps and reddened ass cheeks. But no intercourse. He wants me to beg for release, for a sweet climax, and I do. The blows to my ass and pussy, and the clamps on my tits, arouse me to the point of bursting. So, of course, I beg. Only he never says yes. And he tells me if I do, he'll stop the play and I'll have to go back to paying in cash. Ah, the choices we make. So I leave, my clit tight and swollen, and my own juices slipping between my thighs as I ease back through the cool morning. Today, I walk by the pool, glancing over at the glistening water. So inviting...wonder if it's warm enough for a swim yet. Two of the maintenance men are skimming the leaves out, so I call out, "How's the water? Warm enough?" They glance at each other, then the taller one, Greg, motions toward the gate of the iron fence surrounding the pool. The sign hanging there reads, "Pool closed," but he calls out, "C'mon in! See for yourself." Lovely. I pop the latch and step in, letting the gate swing shut. I slip off my sandals and dip a toe in the edge. It's brisk, with just enough edge to make it a terrific swim. "It still opens at 9, right?" Greg nods, then motions toward the pool house. "There's a suit in there, if you want to go ahead. Someone must have left it." I shake my head. "Thanks, but I don't think I could wear someone else's. Not safe." The other man, shorter but with the build of a former football player, shrugs. "No one's claimed it since last summer. You could take it off our hands and wash it later." I thought about it. I could use a new suit. "Okay." He puts down the pole and heads for the pool house. Paul has always seemed a bit shy to me, throwing up a hand in greeting when he sees me but almost never meeting my eyes. I follow him in. The pool house is a solid structure, built to look like the rest of the complex. But it's definitely a workspace, with wooden tables, shelves of tools and chemicals, life preservers and the ropes that go with them. Paul goes all the way to the back of the room and digs through a bag. Behind us, the door swings shut, and I glance around, just in time to see Greg padlock the door from the inside. I face him fully, an odd twinge of fear simmering in my stomach. "What are you doing?" He smiles. "What we're going to do is the same thing the bossman has been doing for six months." "I don't think—" My voice is cut off as Paul wraps his arm around my neck, pulling my sharply backwards, almost lifting me off the ground. I kick out with my feet, but Greg is ready for that response and grabs both ankles, lifting them high and removing any leverage I had. The fear races through me, and I lash out with my hands, trying to grab Paul's face. "You little slut," he hisses, and tightens his grip. Spots dance before my eyes as they lift me and slide me onto a low bench. Paul releases my throat, and as I gasp for air, he shoves a rag into my throat, then clenches both wrists, pulling my arms straight back and over my head. Trembling, I dimly realized they must have planned this. Ropes were waiting near the bench; two with nooses tied on the end, which Greg quickly slipped over my ankles. A similar loop went around each wrist, and Paul tied the other ends to support beams, pulling my arms wide and tight. Greg fought my kicking legs until Paul was finished, then Paul helped him, as they pulled my legs up and high, so that my knees were up beside my ribs. Two more ropes encircled my thighs, to be tied to posts on the outer walls of the pool house. Greg stood back, admiring the work. My dress rode high, exposing my pussy to the air. "I like it," Greg said. "Perfect position." Paul made a low growl of agreement, then reached for a work knife. My eyes widened, and I tried to struggle against the inevitable as Paul cut my sundress, hem to neckline. Greg stroked my right leg. "Bossman said you never wear panties. Said you had a pretty pussy, too." And that's where his hand went, stroking, exploring my still swollen clit and labia. He chuckled, a low, wicked sound. "He said you'd probably still be wet. Right about that, too. Said he made you so horny you could barely walk." My body trembled. I hated this! The fear was like an animal in me, out of control and terrified of what they would do. But, damn, did his fingers feel good. Cool and firm as he pushed through the folds of flesh. I fought back a moan. "Damn, you're a slut!" Greg's grinned widened. "Look at this, Paul, she's almost sucking my finger right into her cunt!" "I'd rather her suck something else." My head jerked back as his hand entwined in my hair, pulling down hard, stretching my throat taut as my head leaned down off the bench. He was already unzipped, a thick cock almost purple from the blood within. He yanked the gag out, but before I could scream, he shoved his cock deep into my mouth. I choked. "Don't you bite me, bitch. You'll regret it." He pulled my hair harder, and I tried to gasp from the pain. The gasp only pulled him in. "I think such a slut needs punishing." Greg's hand then landed with a harsh slap on my swollen pussy. I jerked, yelping, or trying to, against Paul's cock, which was close to cutting off my air. He began fucking my mouth in earnest then, deep blows that went down my throat as I fought to breath through my nose. Greg's blows on my pussy, thighs, and ass increased, heating my skin and making every nerve raw with pain. Then, just as Paul's cock was beginning to throb toward his climax, Greg stopped, changing blows to caresses. I whimpered as he stroked me, rolling the clit between his fingers, stretching it, pinching it. My back arched, and he inserted a finger in my wet pussy. "That's it, little slut. You like it, don't you? Like being treated like the slut you are." His fingers dipped in and out, and a fiery pleasure shot through me. "Bossman got you ready, but we're going to finish the job." Paul pulled out and I gagged and choked, spitting as he shot semen all over my face and breasts, slicking my tits and neck with it. He wiped some off with the cloth, then stuck it back in my mouth. "Taste my cum, bitch," he said, as he pinched my nipples, twisting one, then the other, until they were hard peaks that added to the arousal surging through me. He paused to reach behind him, pulling two flat clamps from the bench. He positioned each on a nipple, then let the small chain and weight slip down my sides, pulling my breasts wide, and a constant tug on my nipple. I writhed in my bounds, and I could feel a new surge of juices in my pussy. Greg stepped back, reaching for a small vibrator, which he slipped into the flowing juices of my vagina. I moaned as he set it on low, and jerked in the ropes. He followed that with a dildo, which he moistened by rubbing the tip around...and around my labia. Then, with a sudden move, he rammed it into my ass. I screamed into the gag as he stood back, watching me. "What do you think?" he asked Paul. The stockier man shrugged again. "That she'll be begging for it by the time we get back." Huh? I stared at them, but they simply turned and left. I heard the padlock click on the outside. I squirmed, trying to get more comfortable, but the ropes dug deeper into my skin, and only a few minutes had passed before I realized how right Paul was. The vibrator was on low enough that it never stimulated me to climax...it just kept the temperature on high, making me almost pant with the need to have an orgasm. The weight on my nipples was a continual, stimulating tug. I struggled to swallow without choking, and I could taste Paul's semen—a sensation that only pushed me higher into arousal. I stayed on the edge, trembling, shuddering. I tried to grind my hips, making the dildo and vibrator finish the job, but never quite making it. I whimpered, my clit so tight I thought I'd explode if someone breathed on it. Finally, I heard the lock open, and they returned. Paul tugged on the weights as Greg eased the dildo out of my ass. The groan that escaped around the gag was almost a plea, and they both laughed. "God, you're such a whore!" Greg pulled the vibrator out as Paul removed the gag. "What do you want, bitch?" Paul murmured in my ear. It was out before I could stop it. "I want to cum!" "How?" "Fuck me!" Greg slid a finger up and down my slit. "Beg." I did, my body thrashing against the ropes. "Please. PLEASE! Fuck me!" Greg pulled his cock from his pants, hard as a pipe and almost as thick as a tin can. He caressed my slit with the tip and I almost bounced off the table. "Please." "Oh, I like you like this." "Just fuck her." And he did, shoving that cock deep within me. I squealed, climaxing almost immediately from the pressure and pain, and Paul released the clamps, the sudden rush of blood an extra shot of pleasure shooting through me. Greg slammed deep, a hard, driving fuck that soon had me on the edge again, but not over, as he came, pulling out in time to shoot white streams over my belly and thighs. He stepped away, and Paul moved up between my legs, rubbing his cock over the wetness there. Then he spread my cheeks, and before I could cry out a protest, inserted the tip into my ass. It hurt. I was tight; he was big. I tried to clench, but his large hands grabbed my ass cheeks, his broad fingers digging in to the flesh, spreading me. He worked it, in and out, deeper each time. I was too out of breath to protest, then Greg leaned over, pinching my clit. I gasped, astonished. His thumbnail dug into the hard bud as two fingers slipped into my pussy. Finger fucking me, he stirred the juices, arousing me and sending the flow down over my ass and Paul's penis. Paul's eyes were bright as his speed increased. Between his cock and Greg's fingers, I was over the top in minutes, begging for more, my body bucking in the ropes. Paul made a low, thunderous groan, then pulled out, adding to the collection of semen on my body. My muscles went slack and I looked at them. "Let me go now?" Both dropped to a nearby bench, catching their breath. "Oh, no, our little slut," Greg whispered. "We're just getting started..." The Pool House ***I have gotten story ideas several times from tales that I have been privy to, but never from personal experience, until now. I tell you my true account, only after mulling it over for the past year and deciding to share it with y'all, my extended network of friends.*** I was exasperated. Absolutely nothing was going right for me, in fact, things were falling down at my feet and shattering literally in front of my eyes. I guess that I should back up for a minute or two and explain myself, huh? My boyfriend, Alex, was caught by my best friend with his dick stuffed in another woman last weekend, he claims that he was drunk, didn't know what he was doing, yadda-yadda-yadda. We had dated, off and on, for most of my sophomore year at S.M.U. I wouldn't say that he was the 'Love of My Life', but I had felt that he could get there, y'know? After all of this shit happened, a lot of his "boys" in the fraternity told me of how he was fucking everything that walked, from U.N.T. to T.C.U. and all willing crotches in between. His boys were telling me 'on the cool' I am sure, because they all wanted to fuck me. Sounds like I am an arrogant bitch, huh? I am not, but I do know that I am hot. 5'3", full C cup, I have a smokin' hot 20 year old tight body, I work out five days a week and I am proud of my six pack and defined muscles, and I love to wear little tight shirts and show off my legs and my pretty feet. I am sure that he misses having his trophy and Alex has been blowing up my cell ever since. Fuck him and his boys. On top of that, my Western Civ. Professor decided at the last minute to have an oral test for the final, I frickin' grenaded that fucker, and if I don't ace the final project for my photography class, no Dean's List. Well, guess what? My model determined at the last minute that she needed to find herself, so she dropped out of school and decided to go backpack across Europe with her boyfriend, taking the roll of film that I had already shot! Three days to get a portfolio of shots in, and no model. Get another model you say? These were going to be nudes, albeit tasteful, but nude nonetheless, and not just any girl would work. I left the gym exhausted. I hadn't worked out like that in forever, and the gym rats that always try to pick up on me must have sensed that I was in a foul mood, because I didn't get fucked with at all. I just threw myself into an intensive routine and hoped that it would give me some ideas. No dice. I had moved out of the sorority house and back home because I got really serious about school and the house was not conducive to pulling all A's. My house was ten minutes from campus on a bad traffic day, and I didn't shirk my sorority duties, so all was good with them. My dad wanted me to be involved in a lot of campus stuff, especially the Greek System because he always said "You never know when you go on a major interview if the person sitting in front of you isn't a sister or a brother Greek, and if that gives you a leg up, so be it!" He paid for it, and it was fun, and I met a lot of great people, so what the Hell? Both of my folks were home and I stomped into the house, tossing my back pack onto a bar chair and as my folks looked at me quizzically, I stormed past them, straight to the fridge. I reached in, grabbed one of my dad's ice cold Sam Adams', popped the top and chugged. I put the empty on the counter and reached back into the fridge, grabbed another and popped the top, although this time, I leaned against the counter as my dad, Max and my mom, Rose, sat looking at me, smiling. "Uh, rough day at school, Jamie?" My dad smirked. I let out the loudest beer belch that I could produce and wiped my wet lips. "You could say that." "What can we do?" "Bribe my Photography Professor into giving me an 'A', so that I can stay on the Dean's List for starters. I tried letting him look down my shirt, and he is VERY gay, so that didn't work, or, you can find me a willing model for my nude silhouette series, which I have to have a completed portfolio by Monday." "What happened to all of those pictures that you and Pam took?" Mom asked. "She took them with her when she and Dave left for Europe," I whined, I took another swig from my bottle and stopped in half swallow. I had it, I knew what would save me. "Mom! You can pose for me! You have the best body that I know of, you would be perfect!" "Yeah, baby," Dad chimed in, "You have it, why not?" "No, no, no!" Mom shook her head. "You must be crazy, I can't!" "Why?!?" I begged of her. "Ma, you know how important the Dean's List is to you and Dad, and I have no chance of staying on it if you don't help me. Remember how proud you were when I first made it on, don't you...Mommy?" I stuck my lower lip out and looked sidelong at her. I knew how to push her buttons. I watched her will cave in right in front of me. "What do I do?" She sighed, defeated. Later, I had set up in the pool cabana, and was just waiting on Mom. I checked and rechecked my cameras, the lighting, etcetera, preparing myself. When my folks realized when I was nine that my photography infatuation wasn't going away, they converted the back half of the pool house into a studio/dark room. It wasn't big, but it served its purpose fine. I was completely lost in rapt thought when mom and dad walked in. "Wow, you guys scared me!" I laughed nervously. Mom was dressed in her bath robe and flip flops, and she looked as nervous as I was, even if it was for different reasons. "O.K., Dad," I commanded, "no audience allowed, get lost for a couple of hours, I'll take good care of her!" "Alright, I am going over to Butch's place, he has the Gatti-Mayweather fight on his big screen, HD, plasma, so there!" I took a few photos, letting her get over the initial nervousness, which is common in models. I started her out by the pool, getting shots with the robe on, slowly having her reveal more and more skin. I was dressed in my hardcore photo attire, which was as little as possible. This evening, I had on one of my wife beaters, knotted just below my breasts, no bra, and a pair of boy shorts. I like to have the models feel comfortable, and they normally do when the picture taker shows some skin also. I approached my mother, who was nervously fidgeting from foot to foot. I am pretty biased, but, I think my mother is completely and utterly gorgeous. She is a little shorter than I am, maybe 5'1", and all of 100 lbs, I have always been envious of her Philippine features. I have a mixture of asian and caucasian traits, but mom is so sultry when she wants to be. I always tell her that she is Kiana Tom's twin! Her long, straight black hair hung down to the small of her back. I reached out to her and grabbed the collar of the robe, pulling it down over her bare shoulders. "Relax, Ma," I soothed her, "Sit here." She was nude in front of me, like she had been a million times, but, right now was different. I had to look at my own mother in a sexual light in order to convey the feeling that I needed to in this photo shoot. She is stunning, having borne three children, and I would defy anyone to find a stretch mark on her person. She is taut, as she and Dad exercise regularly, and her augmented breasts looked perfect. She was a big, full B, which fits her body perfectly. "Sit here, Ma," I instructed, "You will do fine!" She gave me a meek smile and did as I directed. Mom slowly got into her role as I changed lighting, fixed her hair and had her get into different positions. I had decided to use a lot of profile shots with her, whereas with Pam, we basically just took neck down pictures. I knew that something was missing, I knew what it was, but I didn't know how to obtain it without crossing a major line. We had been drinking to take the edge off, so I had the liquid courage. I stuck my thumb and forefinger into my mouth and got them good and wet, then reached over and gripped her nipple, rolling it between my fingers, feeling it swell in my hand. "What are you doing?!?" She shrieked, pulling back. "Ma, relax! It is common to do that to get the right photos! The light is bad out here anyway, I have a set up in here, c'mon!" I led her into my studio, where I had a white backdrop set up, and snapped a few more shots, allowing her to get back into the groove. I keep the temperature high in my studio, I feel that it keeps me real, in my opinion. Soon, mom had a sheen of sweat that glistened all over her, the pictures that I took were going to be amazing! I had her periodically pull on her nipples to keep them erect, I just felt that it added to the overall feel of the shots, but the high temperature in the room didn't allow them to stay up. "Now, mom, relax for a minute," I told her as I neared her. I was about to do what I did with Pam a couple of times, which gave me good results, in a couple of ways. I grabbed her by the shoulders and turned her towards me, cupping her left breast in my hand and I leaned down and took her nipple in my mouth, running my tongue over the stiffening bud. My mother audibly sucked in air as I repeated the process for the other boob. She placed her hand on my shoulder as I tweaked the nipple between my teeth. "Wow." "Wow." I repeated, backing up and looking at my handiwork. "Let's continue, O.K?" We worked for the next hour and a half, and I knew that it was my best work ever. It was not like we were mother/daughter, but something more. I was very turned on, and I could see the moisture on her puffy labia. The final shots were going to be with the camera at her lower legs, shooting a low profile. I straddled her legs and took a few snaps while mom moved her hands over her body. Her hand came down and parted her pussy lips, exposing her light pink folds, I licked my own lips as the thought of what she just did sent quivers down my spine, and into my aching womanhood. From this angle, I could see her toned thighs, her corpulent vagina, topped with a small triangle of pubic hair, her flat belly and her mountainous breasts that were capped by her rouge colored, long nipples. I put the camera down and ran my fingernails over her taut thighs and watched as she broke out into gooseflesh. Mom let out an enormous sigh as I ran my fingers gingerly over her pubic mound and delicately parted her lips. I pushed myself up and mom parted her legs for me, revealing once again her inner self. I bent my had toward her and inhaled her scent, reveling in it. I darted my tongue forward and parted her lips. "NNNGGhhH, aaaahhh!" Mom writhed underneath me as I slid my middle finger into her hole, feeling the heat surround my finger. "I've never been with a woman." Mom gasped. "Calm down, Ma, follow my lead." Her skin was hot to the touch, almost feverish as I went back down on her, licking, nibbling and sucking on her vagina and clit, feeling her juices coat my chin as I did what I do best. She sat bolt upright and grabbed the back of my head, pushing down into her trembling pussy. "OH SHIT, OH SHIT. FUCK YEAH, I AM CUMMINGGGGGGGGGGGG!!!!!!!!" Mom bellowed out in the darkened room, just as I felt a warm gush of fluid erupt over my tongue and lips. She rolled over on top of me and sucked my nipple into her mouth, making me squrim in pleasure. I pushed her head down, wanting her to return the favor. "Just do it how you like it done to you, mom!" I encouraged her. I could feel her tongue brush over my tight sphincter ring and into my folds of love flesh. I came hard, again and again. Neither one of us could hold off our powerful orgasms as we were both too worked up and too horny. We laid there intertwined in each others arms and legs, panting like animals, too spent by our series of cataclysmic, orgasmic eruptions to move. "I think that I will get an 'A', momma! Thank you!" I rolled to her and gave her a long, deep kiss. I did ace that final, in fact, my photos hung in the SMU art gallery for nearly a year, and dad has reproductions in his home office and garage. Mom and I haven't been together since then, but I think that if the opportunity arose...