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Expectation

By: LesLumens



This is an entry in the 2008 Literotica Valentine's Day Contest.

If my scene breaks or dashes look strange, because I'm using some new special characters that I haven't tried before. Everything worked fine in preview while submitting the story, but that doesn't always apply to what finally emerges in the posted story. My apologies if they're odd looking.

This story spills over into a third page, but only by a line or two.

© Les Lumens - 2008

(~~~~→♥←~~~~)

Marie hung up the phone with a smile, glad that her wish had come true. She'd already scheduled off Thursday and Friday, and now her four-day weekend had expanded to five with the office shutting down due to the snowstorm.

A quick peek out the window revealed that Jim was nearly done digging out her car from the thick blanket of snow that had buried it and her driveway. She almost hated to tell him that he'd done all the work for nothing.

Well, not really nothing, she thought as she pulled out the clips holding her hair in place, letting the dark tresses spill down to below her shoulder blades. She still felt the loss of a friend, neighbor, and coworker — Jim had lost his mother. He said that doing busy work helped him cope with the loss, and so she was unsurprised to find him already hard at work with his shovel when she first looked out the window upon awakening.

The sound of stomping on the porch let Marie know that he was on his way to the door, and so she retrieved a twenty from her purse. She couldn't help but grin as she headed toward the door to answer it, knowing what was to come.

The first rap of his knock had barely faded before Marie opened the door. "Come in and warm up, Jim."

"Do you want me to go start your car for you?" He asked as he pulled off his stocking cap and shook out his sandy blonde hair.

Marie shook her head. "The office decided it wasn't worth trying to open up today, so I'm staying home where it's warm. I appreciate it, though." She held out the twenty toward him.

Jim waved it away. "No, I don't need that, Marie. Just being neighborly."

She smiled, enjoying the game as always. He also hadn't slipped up and called her Ms. Collins, a habit she'd worked hard to break. "I insist. You've been out there forever. You deserve something for your trouble."

"You managed to save my paper when my laptop hard drive crashed, so we're even."

"No," Marie protested, waggling her finger. "That made us even for you cleaning out my gutters."

"That was for helping me sort through..."

Marie laughed and cut him off. "Okay, but I owe you a favor, and you're not going to talk me out of it. You're also going to have a cup of coffee before you go."

Jim chuckled and responded, "I know, and thank you." as he unbuttoned his coat against the heat of the house.

Marie felt her cheeks warming as he took off his coat. His well-defined muscles rippled beneath the shirt he wore, drawing her eyes like a magnet. She quickly turned toward the kitchen to hide her blush and said, "I'll be right back with that coffee."

Her blush only deepened as she remembered the first time she'd noticed he was no longer a gangly teenager. She'd actually followed him down the aisle of the supermarket like a lioness on the prowl when she saw him. When she turned the corner and saw his face, she'd ducked back into the aisle and quickly hurried in the other direction to hide her embarrassment. The thoughts going through her mind as she followed him were anything but platonic.

I really need to get out, she thought as she poured the coffee, unable to shake those thoughts from her head. Thirty-two, divorced, childless, and I'm getting tingly over a man almost half my age that I've known since he was in the eighth grade.

With a sigh, she picked up the two cups of coffee and walked back out into the living room, wincing when she realized she'd just thought of Jim as a man.

(~~~~→♥←~~~~)

Marie slipped into bed with a book, but not one she planned to read. Three distinct sections of the pages showed parts, revealing that something was pressed between the pages. She opened to the first rose, as she'd done on February 13th for the last two years.

The first time had been a complete surprise. Fresh on the heels of her divorce, the mysterious arrival of a dozen roses and a box of her favorite chocolates on Valentine's Day had helped chase away the bout of melancholy she'd felt all day. There was no card to identify who'd sent the flowers, and she'd never picked up even a hint from anyone that she suspected might be her secret admirer. On impulse, she'd pressed one of the roses before it faded, and it was that flower that she looked at now with a smile.

Flipping to the next rose, she remembered how she'd awakened that year wondering if her mysterious admirer would surprise her again. He had, and she'd immediately placed one of the roses in her book. Last year had continued the pattern, resulting in the third pressed rose that she now observed.

Marie took a deep breath, still able to smell the rose. She wondered if it would happen again this year, and wondered how she would react if it didn't. She looked forward to that moment now each year more than she did Christmas, and the thought that the flowers might not arrive this year caused her chest to tighten.

She shook her head at the silliness of it all. She'd even taken time off from work this year so that she could be home all day. Her coworkers had jokingly asked her who the lucky man was, but she'd put them off with an excuse that she just needed some time to herself. The anticipation had set in only a week into January this year.

Marie slipped the book back into the drawer of her nightstand and turned out the light. She felt like a restless child who knew she was going to Disneyland the next day, and found sleep difficult. Attempts to quiet her mind proved fruitless, and her weariness combined with her racing thoughts to form a vivid daydream.

This time, her mysterious stranger didn't just send the flowers — he brought them to her. She conjured up a stunningly handsome man with eyes full of admiration and intense sexual energy. Marie felt the tingle of wetness between her legs as she imagined him feeding her a chocolate. The liquid center of the candy burst in her mouth, making her think of another eruption that she desired more by the moment.

She started awake for a moment when her hand crept between her thighs to discover her panties were damp. Even in the dim light, she could see her stiff nipples tenting the silky cloth of the chemise she wore to bed. Her body screamed for attention — demanded it. The drawer next to her bed opened again, but this time she retrieved something other than the book — a smooth white vibrator.

Marie traced the parting of her lips with her fingers once more, causing her to shudder. Giving in to the need, she hooked her thumbs beneath her panties and slipped them down. A quick lift of her bottom and a few shifts deposited her panties at her feet, even as she kicked the covers away from her body and parted her legs.

She laid the toy next to her right hip and pulled upward on the hem of her chemise, bunching up the cloth above her ample breasts. Marie moaned as she cupped the firm globes, gently squeezing them. Her fingers moved to the darker tips to trace the oval surrounding them, and then to caress the stiff points as well. Her hips rocked upward and her intimate muscles contracted as the touch heightened the heat building between her legs.

With a gasp, she reached for her vibrator and brought it to her lips. She slipped the tip into her mouth, suckling it to moisten it. A twist of the base caused a quiet hum to break the silence of the night, sending delightful tingles of anticipation flowing throughout her body.

The first touch of the buzzing toy to her damp folds caused a gasp to burst from Marie's lips. The ember of need within her sprang up into a bonfire of desire. She twitched as she glided the smooth tip over her folds, her fires growing higher still. A sharp, almost squealing moan burst from her as the toy made contact with her hood and the swollen bud beneath.

The necessity of the ache within her surged, and Marie answered the call of the void within her with her toy. As the vibrator slipped into her depths, the image of her anonymous admirer in her daydream did the same. Plastic and batteries vanished in her mind, replaced by what she truly needed.

Her lover took her slowly, letting her feel every wonderful inch of him with each thrust and withdrawal. In her mind's eye, she could see the adoration — and almost a sense of wonder — in his features as he made love to her. Marie felt little cold tingles throughout her body, the sensation almost like tiny drops of water falling in a mist on her flushed skin.

The urgency of her need increased with the swelling pressure of climax within her. Marie's hand moved faster, and her imaginary lover responded with equal speed. Now she could see the tightening of his face that indicated his own pleasure mounting as well. The momentum of her fast pumping hand caused the batteries in her toy to clack against the plastic shell, the power of the thrusts overcoming the resistance of the springs inside.

A series of short moans burst from her lips as she neared her peak. She could hear her lover gasping as he followed her on her upward spiral. At last, the bubble of building pleasure within her burst, and she tumbled over the edge into orgasm.

Marie cried out as a rush of heat flooded her body. She held her toy deep inside her, her thighs tightly pressed together as she trembled from head to toe. She could almost feel the hot burst of his cum filling her, and the pulsing of his thick shaft buried inside her. Her orgasm held her in a relentless grip, waxing and waning for what felt like hours, until she finally collapsed to the bed. The vibrator slipped from inside her as her hands fell heavily at her side, the slick plastic surface still buzzing as it rolled down under her bottom.

Eventually, she found the strength to turn off the toy and replace it in the drawer. A flittering thought that she should clean her vibe crossed her mind, but her spent body dissuaded her of that notion almost as soon as it occurred to her. She managed to smooth down her chemise and tug up her panties, and then drifted off into a blissful slumber with a satisfied smile on her face.

(~~~~→♥←~~~~)

Marie awakened early, feeling for all the world like a child rising in anticipation of finding presents from Santa under the tree on Christmas. She shivered as memories of her fantasy from the night before crept into her mind, and then sighed as she considered that it was nothing more than a fantasy. Since her divorce, she'd barely dated, and she could count the number of times she'd had sex on the fingers of one hand with spares.

She treated herself to a breakfast with all the trimmings, a rare treat compared to the usual munching on a muffin as she hurried through the house in preparation for work. Having almost eaten too much, she retired to the couch and turned on the television.

Mixed feelings warred within her as the Valentine themed shows and commercials flashed across the screen. While she couldn't wait for the arrival of her yearly gift, she also felt nervous that it might not come this year. She also knew that she'd feel the touches of melancholy again after the initial warm rush of emotion when the flowers arrived. She had an admirer, but he apparently didn't plan to reveal his identity to her, which meant that she would never get to know him.

A knock on the door interrupted her whirling thoughts for just a second, and then her mind spun anew. She quickly crossed the floor toward the door, her heart beating fast. She felt a flash of disappointment when she opened the door to discover her mailman outside, not someone from the florist.

"Good morning, Ms. Collins. I thought I'd hand this off to you so it wouldn't get bent, since I saw your car here this morning."

"Thank you, Paul," Marie replied, a little curious about why he would hand-deliver something as simple as a couple of magazines that would have fit in the box without much trouble.

"The snow still keeping you away from work, I see?"

"I took some time off, actually."

The mailman grinned and chuckled. "Wish I could, but you know the saying — neither rain, nor snow... It's a big day too. I wouldn't want to disappoint anyone expecting their Valentine's."

"True," Marie replied, and then shuddered as a gust of cold air whipped against her.

"I should get going and let you close the door before you freeze. Have a happy Valentine's Day, Ms. Collins."

"You too, Paul," she responded as he turned.

Marie closed the door and looked down at the magazines again. She looked out the window to see him glancing back over his shoulder toward the door.

The thought occurred to her that he might very well be her secret admirer. He'd divorced only a few months before her, and he'd immediately turned quite chatty the moment her ex-husband moved out his belongings. He certainly knew her address well enough, and she'd even mentioned her favorite brand of chocolates to him when he delivered a box of them to her.

She grinned and twitched her eyebrows, thinking that it wouldn't be such a bad thing to discover he was the one who sent her flowers. He didn't have movie star good looks, but he was handsome and fit from the daily walk delivering the mail. He had a sense of humor and a touch of chivalry that she certainly found becoming.

She looked out the window again, but he'd already passed out of her range of vision. She did see the paperboy, however. He was late again, and half-heartedly hurled her morning paper toward the house into the snow in the yard.

Grumbling under her breath and crossing her arms over her chest against the cold, she hurried out the door to retrieve the paper. As she bent to exhume it from the pit in the snow, a gust of wind whipped her dress, forcing her to hold it down lest she give the entire neighborhood a fine view of her thong-clad bottom.

When the wind calmed, she snatched up the paper and shook the snow off of it and her hand, scowling toward the paperboy, who was busy tossing everyone else's paper in the snow as he pedaled down the sidewalk. She saw someone out of the corner of her eye, and quickly retreated into the house when she made eye contact with her neighbor across the street. He was staring lecherously in her direction, obviously hoping for another, stronger gust of wind.

The encounter caused her to consider that someone far less desirable might be responsible for her yearly pick-me-up as well. It could be her perverted neighbor, her sleazy co-worker Matt, or her ex-husband's brother who called regularly to ask her out.

Marie scowled and shook her head to dislodge those thoughts. The last thing she wanted to do was ruin this little moment of happiness that visited her every year. She turned off the television and sat down to read the paper, at least happy to note that her portfolio was doing well, despite the volatility of the market in recent days.

Upon finishing the paper, she made a quick lunch of soup to counter the calories from her breakfast, constantly glancing toward the door and willing someone to knock on it. Her wish didn't come true, and the hours continued their slow march.

She nearly surrendered to the notion that nothing was coming this year as the afternoon wore on. Only the snow, the resulting travel difficulty, and the sheer volume of floral deliveries kept her hopes alive, but they were fading fast.

The knock she'd awaited with fading anticipation finally came as she headed toward the bathroom in the late afternoon. She veered toward the door, almost skipping in her eagerness to reach it. After taking a deep breath, she opened the door and smiled wide.

"Happy Valentine's Day," the young woman outside said through chattering teeth, a dozen roses and a box of chocolates held carefully against the cold wind.

"Come inside, you're frozen," Marie insisted as she stepped aside.

"And exhausted," the young woman said with a laugh as she stepped inside. "I love Valentine's Day, but I'm glad it's over right now. I've been up since 3 am, and I've been in the van for almost eight hours now." She handed over the flowers and candy. "Someone certainly loves you. That chocolate is ridiculously expensive, and Mandy said this order was put in before Thanksgiving last year."

Marie opened the box and sniffed the flowers, tingling with emotion. Her eyes widened when she saw a small card inside the box. Did he? She wondered, breathless in her hope that she might finally learn the name of her admirer.

Her finger trembled a little as she opened the card. The momentary flash of disappointment when she saw no name faded as she read the message — To what I wish could be with all my heart and soul.

She smiled and sighed, the words going straight to her heart. "Too bad I have no idea who he is," she said to the delivery woman.

"A secret admirer? That's so romantic," the blonde gushed. She then scowled and said, "If my boyfriend forgot again this year, I'm not speaking to him for a week."

"I don't suppose you could tell me who sent these, could you?" Marie asked with a chuckle.

The delivery woman shook her head. "I don't know, and I'd get in enormous trouble if I did and told you."

"I know. Thank you. Do you want a cup of coffee before you go?"

The blonde shook her head and said, "I should get back and drop the van off so I can go home and see if David's made up for last year."

"Good luck," Marie said as she opened the door.

"Hope you find out who he is," the delivery girl said before hurrying to her van.

Marie put the roses into the same crystal vase she'd used for the last three years, taking all the steps necessary to ensure that they lasted as long as possible. She then placed it on the coffee table in front of the couch and retrieved her book from the nightstand.

With one of the dozen roses carefully pressed in the book, she sat down to enjoy her chocolate. As always, her emotions ran high, prompting her to turn in early. Her toy again replaced her unknown lover to lull her to sleep in the warm afterglow of a powerful orgasm.

(~~~~→♥←~~~~)

Marie started her morning with a chocolate and a lingering sniff of her roses. After running her fingers over the petals for a few moments, she retrieved her paper — which was on time today, though still out in the snow of her yard — and sat down.

The paper sat forgotten in her hand as she stared at the roses, wanting desperately to know whom it was who touched her so, each and every year. She felt like a silly high-school girl again for getting so emotional, but she couldn't help it. Just as she pulled the rubber band from the paper, someone knocked on the door.

"It's me again," Paul said as he handed her the mail. "Pictures — do not bend."

Marie saw the address and knew that the pictures were of her new niece. Wonderful, another reminder that my biological clock is ticking away, she thought, and then silently chided herself for thinking it. "Thank you, Paul."

"Those are some nice flowers," he remarked, nodding toward the vase on the coffee table.

"Thank you. I just wish I knew who sent them," Marie said, carefully studying his face for any hint that he might be responsible.

"Oh — mystery man, eh?" He chuckled and said, "That was how I wooed my wife. Hope it turns out better for you than it did me. Better get going."

"Have a good day."

"You too, Ms. Collins."

Marie shut the door. Nothing in his face had really told her anything, but his mentioning that he'd courted his wife the same way pointed strongly in his direction.


Expectation



As she watched him walk away through the window, she considered cutting to the chase and hinting that she wouldn't be opposed to him asking her out. That would certainly let her know for sure, and she knew she could do worse than to get over her aversion to dating anyway. He was a bit of a social pariah because he'd left the church to become a vocal atheist after his divorce, but it didn't really concern Marie. She didn't have a great deal of faith in a higher power since her marriage disintegrated, either.

The sound of a car pulling into the driveway caused Marie to pull up short as she turned back toward the couch. A peek out the window at the car revealed that it was nobody she knew, but then the blonde delivery girl who had brought the flowers stepped out.

Marie waited until the young woman started up the stairs to the porch, and then opened the door. "Hello again..." She trailed off, fishing for a name.

"Amy." The delivery girl looked from side to side, appearing a little nervous. "Can I come in?"

"Sure," Marie agreed, holding the door open.

As soon as the door shut, Amy blurted out, "You can never, ever, ever tell anyone I did this."

Marie laughed and asked, "Did what?"

The young woman pulled a folded slip of paper out of her back pocket and said, "I had one of my friends look in the computer to find out who ordered those flowers for you."

Marie gasped and covered her mouth, her eyes locked on the slip of paper that would reveal the name of the man who'd given her reason to anticipate Valentine's Day again after her divorce. "I... Thank you," she softly said.

Amy held out the paper and reiterated, "You have to promise never to tell anyone that I gave you that, please?"

Marie took the paper, gingerly holding it between her finger and thumb and noticing that she was trembling. "I promise. I'll never tell anyone."

The blonde breathed a sigh of relief and then asked, with girlish excitement, "Aren't you going to open it?"

Marie grinned and said, "I'm afraid to."

"Well, I've got to go before someone sees me here and starts asking questions. Will you let me know how it turns out? I work the afternoon shift at the florists most days."

"I will," Marie answered, and then glanced down at the slip of paper in her hand again.

"Good luck," Amy said, echoing Marie's words from the day before. She then let herself out.

Marie walked over to the couch and sat down, placing the folded answer to years worth of questions on the table in front of her, right next to the rose vase. She could just make out hints of words where the paper parted, teasing her and screaming at her to open it — but she couldn't will her fingers to pick it up again.

After a few minutes, she walked to the kitchen and poured a glass of wine, hoping the alcohol might live up to its name of liquid courage. She desperately wanted to know who her secret admirer was, but she was also deathly afraid she would be disappointed when she did find out. If that were the case, she wouldn't even have the little bright spot she'd come to yearn for every year.

Half an hour later, despite a second glass of wine, the paper remained on the table exactly where she'd placed it. Marie started and yelped in surprise as a knock on the door pulled her out of the near trance into which she'd settled. She rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands for a second, and then rose to answer the door. "What is this — Grand Central Station?" She muttered as she walked to the door.

"Hey," Jim said with a grin when she opened the door. "I can't believe I'm about to actually say this, but could I borrow a cup of sugar?" He laughed and continued, "I just want enough to cover my coffee for a couple of days until some of this mess melts off."

Marie laughed with him, glad for the distraction from her nerves. "Sure, come on in and take all you need. I stocked up before the storm hit."

As she closed the door, she saw something change in Jim's features, and noticed that he was looking at the roses on the coffee table. The look only lasted for a faction of a second, but Marie could have sworn that his smile grew a little wider as he looked at the flowers, and that his smile looked a little sad. Then, his brow furrowed for an equally finite moment before he said, "Nice flowers, but only eleven? Shouldn't there be twelve?"

"There were, but I always press one in a book when they arrive each year," Marie responded, thinking that his conversational tone sounded almost put-upon. Her heartbeat quickened as his manner made her consider something she'd never expected. "You know where the sugar is. Go ahead and get it. I'll make us a fresh pot of coffee so you'll have a buffer against the cold when you leave."

"Okay, thanks," Jim said, and walked to the kitchen. He glanced at the roses again as he passed them.

Marie watched him, her mind awhirl. When he walked into the kitchen, she quickly stepped to the coffee table and picked up the scrap of paper that had tormented her now for going on an hour.

She took a deep breath and opened the paper. Now that she had such a strong suspicion, she had to know. She covered her mouth in disbelief when she saw Jim's name. "Oh my god," she said into her hand, torn between her feelings and the impropriety of them.

"You okay, Marie?" Jim asked from the kitchen doorway.

Marie crumpled the paper into her hand to hide it and answered, "Yes, I guess I just spaced out for a second. Coffee." She walked to the kitchen on autopilot, still struggling with her conflicting emotions.

"You sure you're okay? You look like you just saw a ghost," Jim said with concern evident in his voice as she crossed the threshold into the kitchen and laid a hand on her shoulder.

Marie had to fight hard not to gasp when his hand touched her. As it was, she couldn't resist a little shiver as warmth flooded her every pore and her nipples stiffened beneath her dress. "Mmm hmm," she responded, unwilling to trust her voice to say more.

She prepared the coffee maker with practiced efficiency, but found her eyes constantly darting toward Jim where he sat at the small table in her kitchen. There could be no doubt about what she was feeling at the moment, nor did she harbor any illusions that she could possibly let those feelings show. He's half my age. This can't happen. She released a mental sigh and silently added, God — he's so handsome, and so romantic.

"Thanks, it is freezing out there and I haven't had my wake-up call yet today," Jim said as Marie brought over the coffee and sat down.

She nodded in acknowledgment and forced a smile. From that point on, she did her best to cover her uneasiness with her cup, which resulted in her drinking the coffee far more quickly than he did.

As Marie finished her coffee, Jim sat his down and said, "I've known you long enough to know something is wrong, Marie. If you don't want to talk about it, that's okay. But, if you do, you know you can talk to me."

"I... It's nothing. I'll be back in a minute," she said, and then stood to walk quickly out of the kitchen, feeling tears well up in her eyes. The longer she sat near him, looking into his eyes and hearing his voice, the harder it was to hide the ever-growing feelings hiding inside her.

The sight of the roses ensnared her as she returned to the living room, and she unknowingly slowed to stare at them, Jim's face flashing before her eyes as she looked at them. Her hand opened, finally releasing the crumpled paper that had remained hidden there ever since she'd read it.

The paper fluttered to the ground just as Jim hurried to catch up to her. "Marie, do you want me to leave?" He asked as he bent to retrieve the paper.

"No. Yes. I..." Marie said — her eyes still locked on the roses. She turned just in time to see Jim standing with the crumpled note and gasped.

He saw his name on the paper as he reached out to hand it to her. He also noticed the letterhead of the florist where he'd bought the roses. "Oh, you know about the roses," he said with a wince.

"It's nice of you to try to cheer me up. I wish I hadn't found out so that I could keep the illusion that I have a secret admirer who wanted to sweep me off my feet. It doesn't make it any less sweet that you'd do this for a lonely old woman, though." The thoughts flowed through Marie's head in a rush, rationalizing why someone his age would send her flowers. The words tumbled from her lips almost as quickly as her thoughts formed, giving him the opportunity to confirm them and remove the conundrum she found herself in.

"You're not old," Jim replied with adoration in his voice and his eyes.

Marie felt as though her heart skipped a beat. His expression and tone left little room for doubt.

"I've been in love with you since I was thirteen," Jim said, taking one of her hands in his. "I actually told Mom about it. That's how strong I felt even back then. She said that it made her feel good to know that I had such good taste, but I needed to remember that you were a married woman." He smiled and chuckled as he remembered the incident. "I couldn't bear the thought of you feeling lonely on Valentine's Day, so I started sending the roses. It was as close as I could get to telling you how I feel."

"Feel — not felt?" Marie asked, her lip quivering.

Jim nodded. "I think about you constantly. I compare every girl to you, and they all pale by comparison. That's sort of why I haven't dated much." He let her hand go then and cleared his throat. "I'll go. I know I must be annoying you, staring at you like a moon-eyed puppy. I won't do that again," he said, gesturing toward the roses. "I'm sorry."

"No," Marie blurted out before she could think. "I mean... Oh god, this can't work out. We can't..."

Jim's eyes widened in surprise and he said, "You mean you... Do you feel that way about me?"

Marie drew in a long warbling breath that threatened to transform into a sob. Not trusting her voice, she nodded almost imperceptibly. "But we can't," she whispered.

"Why not?"

"What would people think?"

Jim took both of her hands in his. "I don't care. I love you Marie. I have for years. Your phone calls and visits are the only thing that kept me from losing it at the end with Mom. One of the last things she said to me when she saw me smile after talking to you was 'tell her.'"

"Really?" Marie asked, a single tear rolling down her cheek.

"The only thing she disapproved of was me being chicken and moping about it."

A half-sobbing chuckle shook Marie's body as another tear traced down her opposite cheek. Jim wiped it away with one finger and smiled. His eyes locked with hers, and before she realized what she was doing, Marie leaned forward.

As their lips touched, Marie threw caution to the wind. She let go of the world, and let her entire being center on his soft lips. She felt as though she was hovering off the floor, caught up in the most perfect kiss she'd ever experienced in her life. At some point, they wrapped their arms around each other, but Marie only noticed when their lips finally parted. Marie let out a long, languid sigh and raised her hand to stroke his cheek. "That was wonderful," she whispered.

"Incredible," he whispered back.

Marie noticed that she'd broken out in goose bumps, and saw that he had as well. "Where do we go from here?"

"I want to stay right here forever."

Her feelings surging, Marie kissed him again. This time, her kiss was far more ardent, and he returned it with equal passion. She gasped when she could no longer hold her breath, and he did the same. As soon as she had air in her lungs once more, she sought his lips again.

Their tongues intertwined as they both allowed their desire to rise up within them. Marie pressed her body to his, letting him feel her firm breasts against his chest. He reached down to knead her bottom with one hand, twining the fingers of his other hand through her dark tresses.

Marie's hand wormed beneath his shirt of its own volition, seeking direct contact with his skin. She traced the lines of his back, and then moved back enough to gain access to the firm muscles of his abdomen. She let her fingers slip ever so slightly between the waist of his jeans and his skin, feeling the silky boxer shorts he wore.

Jim explored her body as well, but kept his hands away from what he obviously wanted to touch. He caressed her waist, hips, and shoulders, looking into her eyes as his breathing quickened.

Well beyond the point of resisting now, Marie unhooked the top button of her dress. Three more soon followed, revealing the lacy white bra beneath to his enraptured eyes.

"You're so beautiful," he breathed as she reached behind her to unhook her bra.

A few slow movements caused her dress to slip from her shoulders, and her bra immediately followed. She reached down to stroke the considerable bulge in his jeans at the same time as he cupped her breasts in his hands. Marie's head lolled back and she moaned from the touch, her hand squeezing his hardness to feel it throb even through the denim.

Her head snapped back up and she gasped, following the action with a hungry kiss that left nothing to the imagination. When they broke from the kiss, Marie grinned sultrily and turned on her heels. She walked toward the bedroom, looking over her shoulder and tugging downward on the dress gathered at her hips. When she reached the doorway, she let both dress and panties fall to the floor as he followed her.

Marie reached the bed and turned to see Jim pulling off his shirt, revealing his defined, nearly hairless chest to her hungry eyes. He stepped on the heels of his shoes on subsequent steps, barely breaking stride as he left them behind. She pulled him into another kiss as he reached her, and immediately went to work on the button and zipper of his jeans.

She moaned into the kiss as she pulled down both jeans and boxers, letting his manhood slip free. He groaned as her hand wrapped around his cock.

He fumbled for his wallet as she tried to push his jeans farther down. When he managed to retrieve it and pull out a condom, Marie said, "I'm on the pill."

The condom fell to the floor as Jim stepped out of his pants and climbed into the bed with her. Marie lay back, drinking in the sight of his well-muscled body and his thick cock. Easily on a par with the biggest she'd ever had, she licked her lips in anticipation as he leaned over her, his eyes taking in her nude body as well.

Jim straddled her and leaned down onto his hands to kiss her. She lifted her hips as their tongues slipped over each other, just touching her nether lips to his stiff organ. The momentary contact caused a dam to burst within Marie, and she pleaded, "I need you deep inside me."

Two bodies moved as one, in perfect unison, as he lifted first one knee, and then the other, allowing her to slide her legs out wide. Marie looked down her body at him as he settled between her legs, his cock twitching in anticipation even as her intimate muscles contracted in expectation.

"Oh yes," Marie gasped as Jim pressed down on his shaft and scooted forward, aiming the mushroom tip of his cock at her moist folds. As soon as the head slipped between her lips, he pushed his hips forward.

Marie's mouth opened wide in a soundless squeal as his cock slipped into her depths, filling the aching void within her in a way she hadn't experienced in a very long time. Her walls tightly contracted around his throbbing shaft, causing them to both gasp and lurch from the sensation.

Still buried inside her, Jim leaned down to suck the pebbled flesh of her left nipple between his lips. Marie tousled his hair and wriggled her hips, stirring his cock inside her and sending jolts of ecstasy shooting up her spine. Her movements increased as he switched nipples. She wanted him badly, and she wanted him now.

He sensed her need and let the stiff bud between his lips slip free. He cupped her buttocks as he straightened above her, slowly sliding his hands up to her thighs and curling his fingers around them.

Her body protested as his thick shaft retreated from her, and then burst into an explosion of bliss as he filled her again. Each thrust and retreat triggered a sensation like a mini orgasm, quickly and steadily building toward the real thing, which Marie wasn't sure she would survive as the pressure built in her loins.

Marie's skin flushed with warmth, and yet she was covered in gooseflesh. Little gasps and whimpers tumbled from her lips as her pleasure mounted, and she could see the strain in Jim's face whenever she could force her eyes open as well. Though she didn't remember moving her hand, it now flashed over her hood in a blur to fan her flames even higher.

Her orgasm gripped her without warning, drawing a long, loud scream of release from her. She arched her back and grasped her breasts, the fingers of one hand slipping over her nipple from the abundance of her juices coating them. Her cry sounded distant and hollow, drowned out by the sound of her heartbeat pounding in her ears. Jim's fast thrusting cock kept her surging with ecstasy. She came for what felt like an eternity, the world vanishing in the warm blanket of bliss wrapped around her.

A loud warbling groan returned her to reality as Jim thrust home one final time. He lurched as he spilled his seed in her depths, his head dropping forward as his strength fled him, absorbed in the pulsing of his cock in her warm embrace. Marie moaned and shuddered, seeing the same perfect release in his features that she felt.

Jim's shoulders slumped as a last dribble of cream joined the hot pool inside Marie. Beads of sweat ran down both of their faces as they gasped for breath and trembled from the continuing waves of delight rippling through their bodies. Finally, his softening member slipped free of her and he collapsed to the bed next to her. Marie snuggled up against his chest and he wrapped his arms around her. All considerations about what anyone might think of them being together melted away in his arms, never to rise again.

(~~~~→♥←~~~~)

Two years later — Valentine's Day.

Jim carried his new bride across the threshold and kissed her before letting her down. People had certainly whispered as they'd expected, but the murmurs had eventually died down. The couple had taken things slowly at first after the initial passion-filled revelation of their feelings, but soon enough realized that they were soul mates, and meant to be together.

Though they'd only planned to return home to change clothes before heading up to the mountains for their honeymoon, Marie didn't plan to wait that long before making love to her new husband. She'd stopped taking the pill two months earlier after a discussion about children, where they discovered that they both wanted kids as soon as possible. Though the necessity to use condoms annoyed them both, they felt it was worth it. Neither he nor she wanted to add pregnant bride to the lingering whispers about the age difference between them.

A coy grin spread across Marie's face as she turned and walked toward the bedroom they now shared. She looked back over her shoulder, her hips swaying seductively as she walked, and said, "My biological clock is ticking."

Jim matched her smile and responded, "Let's do something about that, then."

Marie gasped out, "Oh," when she walked into the bedroom. There on the nightstand stood her crystal vase, holding a dozen roses. Sitting next to it was a box of chocolates. Jim had made arrangements to ensure that their tradition continued despite the hectic wedding day.

"I love you so much," she said as she caught her smiling husband up in her arms.

"I love you too. Happy Valentine's Day."

(~~~~→♥←~~~~)

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Expectation



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Expectations



Pure fiction. My thanks to my editor: WindySwimming.

*****

We were sitting on the patio of a beachfront restaurant, sipping something tall and cold. She wore a straw hat and shades, plus a button-front shirt and walking shorts. One leg was propped on an empty chair, and the other across her knee, a flip-flop dangled (barely) from one toe. The cool breeze was playing gently with her hair. We had walked here from our B&B, a string of tiny cottages, each with a view of the beach and ocean, where we had spent most of the weekend stress-testing the bed. We were taking a break. I'll call her Jennifer.

"You know, they're all really starting to bug me!" she started. I waited. "Everyone, and I mean everyone, is telling me that I need to move on. It's 'time to get back in the game. I'm too young to spend my life hidden away, and other subtle questions as to why I haven't landed another man yet!"

I chuckled. "In fact, you have landed another man." 

She turned her head and looked at me over her sunglasses. "Are you getting soft in your old age? I thought you said we were just a therapeutic fucking for the newly divorced mother of two?"

"I'll leave it to you to decide if I'm getting soft," I replied, smiling, "but I must admit that I have never enjoyed any woman as much as you. While I am not about to renounce my blessed state of bachelorhood, there will always be a place for you in my life, and bed."

"No matter who else is also in it ...," she added, with a smirk. "To tell the truth, you, and not just that mighty sword you wield, have done wonders for this poor lady's ego and self-confidence. God! It's good to feel like a woman again, instead of just a mother. In case I forget in the heat of the moment, thank you, thank you, thank you!!"

"As always, my pleasure." This was getting awfully sweet. "So what is the problem with being single and enjoying it?" I asked to change the direction. "Just tell them to buzz off."

"Expectations. You guys seem to operate under a looser set of rules, but women? Parents expect certain things, husbands, judges, co-workers, society - they all have these layers of expectations. That's what's bugging me now; I can't just be. I have to be this, or that, but never just me. Because of joint custody and 'societal norms', I can't be open about us. Don't even get me started on single motherhood! Talk about an impossible pile of expectations! It's a guaranteed failure! If I'd known it was this bad, I would have stayed married!"

"He left you." I reminded her. 

"Yeah, but I might have been able to arrange for the three of us to live together. Geeze!" She laughed at herself. "Seriously, I would give anything to have some time with no expectations!"

She had me curious, now. "Where do these expectations come from? Other than work, I personally don't really feel any."

"Work, yeah, that's a contract of sorts, though there are a lot of unspoken expectations as well." she replied, thinking. She shrugged. "It's just who you are. If I were a drug addict, they would simply take my kids away and leave me alone. No one expects much of anything from a drug addict. And I tell you, if I hadn't had you to help maintain my sanity, I might have ended up going that route."

"Hm-m-m. So, it's identity? Who you are in society?" I persisted.

"Well, duh!" She replied.

Okay. "So how do you change your identity?"

"I don't know. Even if I went somewhere else to start over and re-invent myself, I would have the girls. I'm not giving them up, even for a reasonably free life." She sounded resigned, but not really happy.

"Well, maybe you could time-share." I said, speculating. I was slipping into the male problem-solving mode, even though I knew better. "By day, you wear the role of a hard working, divorced, mother of two. On occasional weekends, however, you are the favorite lover of a confirmed bachelor. Maybe you could expand on that kind of multiple identity."

She grinned. "Well, I obviously love the expectations of that second role. But it's wearing thin in the sense that my support system, the people I rely on to watch the girls for me when I am with you, are starting to rebel. A couple weekends alone to 'get over' the divorce is one thing, but as an ongoing lifestyle, it is raising eyebrows, and they don't even know what I'm doing!" She shook her head.

"Ah!" She sat up. "I'm depressing myself, and probably you. Let's go walk the beach."

So we did. I watched her chase waves back down the sand, and run away as the next raced in, like an innocent child. A few times she stood her ground and let the surf catch her and she wiggled her feet down into the soft, wet sand. The water was cold, and only wet-suited surfers were out in the water. I thought about identity and how one might change it. 

Eventually, we had walked the length of the beach and back to our cottage. She took my hand and pulled me in. I had barely locked the door before she was naked and sitting cross-legged in the middle of the messy bed.

"What would you like as a pre-dinner appetizer?" she asked, happily.

-----------------

Three weeks later, she called. "Busy tonight?" she asked, with no preliminaries.

"Where would you like to go?" I asked in response.

"To bed, with you, your place is fine. Don't bother to clean up. What time?"

"Wait," I laughed, "even that august source, Playboy Advisor, says 'Never make love on an empty stomach - take her to dinner first!'"

"Cute," she acknowledged, "I'll be eating with the girls. You go find yourself a large plate of oysters. What time?"

"Okay, eight?" I was guessing.

"Would nine be all right? Then I can put the girls to bed before I leave." 

"I'll see you then. You do remember how to get here?"

"Oh, yeah! I can't wait! Bye!!"

The phone went dead, and I stood there looking at it for a few seconds. I cleaned up the place, anyway.

She knocked at about 9:20. I was not surprised. I have heard that kids are hard to put to bed when they know you are going out. She came in past me as I held the door, dropped her purse and car keys, turned around and put her arms around my neck.

"No questions yet; just make love to me." Her lips brushed against mine, and any questions I might have had drifted away.

She was passionate and somehow demanding. She wanted, and gave, full measure each step of the way: undressing each other, manual foreplay, oral foreplay each way, and if I can remember, four different positions before I lost control. I lay across her, legs tangled, completely spent, feeling my cock shrinking inside her.

After a moment, when I had caught my breath again, I propped myself up on one elbow. She was lying on her back, arms over her head, eyes closed. I could see the track of a tear trailing down from the outside corner of her eye. "What's going on?" I asked quietly.

She held up a finger for me to wait, then pressed a thigh up between my legs and rotated her hips in a vain attempt to push me further inside her. When she relaxed, I popped out completely and she gave up.

"I can't make it next weekend. No one will take the girls for the weekend, damn it!" she whispered into the gap between my shoulder and cheek. Now, the evening made sense. I just held her. She was crying, trying not to be obvious. 

Eventually, she calmed down and sat up against the headboard. "Next door neighbor girl is really desperate for baby-sitting money, so I have coverage for evenings, but ..." Her voice trailed off and a couple tears started again. "Damn it! I don't ask for much!"

"All those expectations again. Somehow, we're going to have to change your identity!" I half meant it as a joke. She didn't laugh.

She shrugged, and I saw her make the effort to put it behind her. "Now I want a drink. Do you think I can burn off a Scotch on the rocks before I leave tonight?" she asked with a weak grin.

"You bet!" I replied, slipping out of bed and making note of the time. I would not let her leave for at least two hours. A moment later she joined me in the living room, and I handed her the Scotch, her favorite brand. She was naked except for a washcloth tucked between her thighs and her pussy. She caught me looking, and apologized for her sexy underwear with a sarcastic tone and a little curtsey. 

I plopped down on the couch with my drink, and patted the seat next to me. "Actually, since I'm the reason you're wearing it, it is in fact very sexy, so come on over here and let me hold you, you wonderfully sexy babe!"

She grinned, and snuggled in next to me. I loved the completely un-self-conscious way she moved, completely naked and vulnerable yet confident and relaxed. She had become so comfortable with her body. When I put my arm around her, she nudged my hand up onto her breast. 

"Ready again? Already?" I asked teasingly, nuzzling her neck.

"Of course! And no," she replied, "I just love being held and caressed and fondled. You, of all people, should know I don't hold back certain body parts only for sex." 

That was true. A two hour drive to a weekend getaway was an acutely painful exercise in splitting your mind so as to pay attention to both the driving and to all of the gentle, low key, fondling going on. As I dwelled on these thoughts, something was nagging at the back of my mind. Oh, yeah. 

"Remember all that discussion we had about identity and expectations?" I started. She nodded. "But with me, you are free of the expectations, right?"

She nodded again, warily. "Well, there are expectations, but only the ones we have of each other. Plus, we can't just fuck in the middle of Main Street!"

"You once said you would give anything for a night with no expectations. I know of a private club, downtown, where you could do just that. I'm told it's a class place. I'm not a member, but I could easily get us a membership, and once inside you get to shed all your expectations, inhibitions, clothes, and whatever else you wish. It's only for a night at a time, but what do you think?" I had been curious about this place, but never had a willing partner.

"I assume you're talking about some sort of orgy club?" She asked.

"I hear there is a main room and private rooms as well." I replied.

She sat, looking into the distance for a bit. She dropped her head. "The main reason I can let go when I am with you is the privacy. Someone who sees us together and knows your reputation may guess, but never know. I have this fear, if I went to this orgy club, that I would end up fucking my boss in the middle of a pile, and then he would fire me for 'moral turpitude', whatever that is." 

I sat for a moment mulling that image, and something went 'click' in the back of my mind. "Of course!" I exclaimed, sitting up so suddenly she about fell over. She gave me a long look. "No answer now, just something to think about. Twice a year, this club has a masquerade! With a mask, you could be totally anonymous! I know a shop that has a really great selection of masks. I would be there as your safety, but you could lose your own identity and all the expectations that go with it, and adopt any identity you wanted! Think about it!" I sat back, self-satisfied.

"You're serious, aren't you?" she asked.

------------------------

Another three weeks, and I saw her name on my caller-ID. I picked up and simply said "Yes, I'm free tonight. Nine to nine-thirty is fine."

"Okay, see you then, bye!" she said happily, and the line went dead. So much for verbal seduction. 

That night, she lay on top of me, knees pulled up against my sides, arms swarmed around my head, her head resting in the crook of my neck, her forehead against my chin, as we both caught our breaths. I could feel her heartbeat and my own as the glow slowly dissipated. I hoped to get these calls periodically for the rest of my life, but would happily accept however many of them I would be allotted. I had escorted more than one lover to the church as she married someone else. I gently stroked the soft skin of her back and sides. The thin sheen of perspiration gradually evaporated under my touch.

She sat up. "Ready for a Scotch?" I asked.

"In a moment." She set up a slow, circular, motion with her hips, grinding herself gently against my pubic bone, her eyes locked on mine. After a few moments, she let out a long sigh. "You just feel so right, so natural, in me." She leaned down to give me a kiss, then lifted off. It was time for me to play bartender.

She plopped herself in my lap on the couch, swirling her drink with a finger. Then she put an arm around my neck and a nipple about half an inch in front of my lips. I let my cold glass drag across the nipple as I took a sip of Scotch.

"Whoa! Play nice!" she cried out and held her drink where she could pour it on my cock.

"Okay, okay, I surrender!" I laughed, then took her breast into my mouth and swirled my tongue around the nipple, warming it back up.

"Much better!" she said. "Actually, I wanted to talk to you about this masked ball of yours."

"So you've been thinking about it?" I asked.

"In quiet moments, I've been thinking about nothing else. I've had to go masturbate in the ladies room at work, twice!"

"Are you complaining or bragging?" I teased. She glared at me. "I should get us a membership?" I asked, less flippantly.

"Mmm-hmm. But I still have a problem, you know, about 'identity'. I have no idea who or what I want to be."

My heart quickened. "Well, let's see, there's the little Milk Maid, or the Friendly Nurse, or the French Maid, or ..."

"No! No! No! Not the party. I'm serious. All this got me seriously trying to understand who I am, and wondering who I want to be. I certainly don't want to stay with my current identity, because I'm not enjoying it too much."

Oops, I didn't see that coming. "I'm not sure how I can help. What kind of changes are you considering?"

She sat there for a couple moments, silent, staring at nothing. "I don't know. I don't even know why I brought it up. Maybe we can talk later, when I've at least got some sense of what all that means. 

"In the meantime, I really don't know who I want to be at the party either, and you can take all those male fantasy cliché's and stuff them! You said you know a good costume shop? We need to arrange a time for you to take me. I assume this is not the costume store I take my seven year old to for Halloween."

"No, you're right, not unless she is dangerously precocious!" I did not get a laugh.

"I keep thinking," she said slowly, "that I want something with no identity. Every identity, even your clichéd fantasies, have expectations attached. Can I somehow eliminate all identity? Can I just be ... Woman?" Her eyes were boring into me intently.

"Woman ... as sex object?" I asked.

"Well, at this place, sure. That's not really identity, though, is it? Every guy will project his own desires onto a woman with no identity of her own, won't they?"

"Yes ... I'm just not sure how you would do this." A woman, an available woman, with no identity? "If there were a woman I'd never met before, making herself available to me with no reservations, that would be very arousing. She still has an identity, but I don't know it."

Okay, close," she replied "but I want to go further. I want to create a woman who can't have an identity, who exists but can't be pigeon-holed. For the party, that is, not permanently. Is there some kind of mask that would cover the head completely, face, hair, everything, so there are no clues to allow others to define her?" She was gesturing around her head vigorously, and I was watching the remaining Scotch slosh around her glass.

"I'm not sure, but I think we can find out." I mentally added a fetish shop I knew of to our shopping list. "You would want mouth, nose, and eye holes, though, right?"

"I don't think so. Or, maybe, if screened. She shouldn't be able to talk, and while she should be able to see out, her eyes would be screened so they cannot be seen." She said quietly.

I smiled. "Now you're starting to scare me. Very mysterious. A cloak over your body?"

"No, you're not getting it!" She snapped. "The body must be naked, not even sandals, naked and available for me to give to anyone of any sex, preference, or perversion to touch, fondle, use ..." Her voice trailed off. "Now I'm starting to scare myself. But I am also terribly aroused! That image must be some sort of archetype." She tossed off the last of her Scotch. "I now need you to eat my pussy, but first I need to eat that magnificent cock of yours!" She pushed my legs apart and knelt between them. 

-----------------

I got the membership and all the information and shared it with her, discreetly. I made appointments with the proprietors of the costume and fetish shops, explaining that we had some very special requirements that we didn't know how to fill. I got a brief groan from the fetish shop owner.

She took an afternoon off work and met me downtown at a specific bus stop. It's not the best part of town, so I was there when she got off the bus. I was amused that she wore a large floppy hat and dark glasses. At least I recognized her. The costume shop was about a half block away.

We walked in and she looked disappointedly at the rather ordinary fare in the front room. I asked for the proprietor, and we were quickly led into a back room clearly marked "Adults ONLY!!" She had obviously been practicing her list of requirements, but described only what she wanted the mask itself to do. 

"And what about the rest of the costume?" He asked.

"Nothing." she replied. He looked a bit confused. 

"Are you familiar with Club Phantasy?" I interjected.

"Ah, of course. I supply many of the costumes worn to their masked ball." I nodded. He gave her a hard look. "Seductive? Innocent? Aggressive?" He asked.

"Completely neutral, a blank canvas, I don't want to be defined. Nothing others can use to limit me," she answered.

"Neutral, neutral ...," he muttered, finger to his lips, looking up over our heads. "The closest thing that comes to mind is my selection of feathered bird masks. They leave the eyes pretty well hidden and cover the nose, but not the mouth. For the most part, though, they are frontal masks only, and you said you wanted your head covered," he offered.

"I also said I wanted the full face covered, including the mouth," she retorted.

"Hmm," he replied, "you may find that that will not work out the way you think. First, if the entire face is covered by, say, a nylon stocking, blurring shapes and colors, you become inhuman, a robot, and that can turn people away."

"Further," he continued, "if you enjoy this ball, you might have need for occasional ... refreshment ... to keep your energy up? And if you are serious about allowing open interaction, there will inevitably be requests for oral ... interaction?" He was waving his fingers around in front of his mouth.

"Damn! How could I forget that! Ok, mouth uncovered. If I find one I like can you turn it into a full head mask to cover my hair and so on?" She was getting into the flow now.

"Most likely." he assured her. "Let me go see what I have in stock." He disappeared down a crowded aisle and then up some stairs. Jennifer started walking the place, pulling out one scandalous outfit after another and giggling. After about ten minutes, he was back with a stack of boxes which he placed on a table with a large round swivel mirror in front of the chair he held out for her.

"Ok, first I do have two full head feather masks. Shall we try those first?" She nodded assent. He handed her some bobby pins and directed her in how to pin up her shoulder-length tresses so the mask could cover them.

"This first," he explained, "is an Italian creation with feathers over the entire head. Let's see what you think." He carefully slipped the mask over her and fastened the stretchy material at the base of her skull.




Expectations



She sat there for a long moment, and then sort of shook her head. "I don't know what to say about this one. I look like a bird that landed on the high voltage line! Anything sleeker?"

"Yes," he said as he unfastened the mask, "it did seem a bit overpowering once you had it on. Now this one is a simpler design, with just the front decorated. It's also less likely to leave feathers behind if you're on your back, hmm?"

She shot me a glance that told me he was pushing the familiarity. 

He slipped an owl design (feathers in an outward pointing circle around the eyes) over her head. The stretch nylon of the back was printed to be opaque and mimic smooth feathers. He made a couple adjustments as it was initially too tight across her upper lip and cheeks. He fussed with it a few moments while Jennifer appraised herself in the mirror.

"Isn't the owl a predator? That's not very neutral," Jennifer commented.

"Ah, but in our culture it is an icon of reserved wisdom! 'Whoo!'" he cooed. 

"Actually, love," I interjected, "the naked body will create a certain appearance of submissiveness. This mask might create the right touch to balance that. And, besides, you make a dandy predator when you're with me!" I had leaned over her shoulder, and got an elbow in my ribs for the remark.

Jennifer looked around. "Are there any private fitting rooms?" She asked. The proprietor pointed to the corner, and looked quizzically at me as she headed over. I shrugged. A minute later she returned, refastening the last of her shirt buttons.

"OK," she said slowly as she sat back down and worked it to figure out how to take it off, "what else?"

"Well," the proprietor said as he slowly opened and looked at each of the other boxes, laying some open on the table for us to inspect, "those are the only full head masks I have, and I'm not seeing anything I think would be worth the effort of converting it. Do you see anything here that catches your fancy?"

He was right. Nothing jumped out. Jennifer looked at me and cocked an eye. I decided it was worth trying the fetish shop first. "Would you please set that aside for us?" I asked. "We'll be back before closing time to claim it unless we find something else."

He looked mildly disappointed. "Of course. It will be at the front register. What name would you like to claim it by?" I gave him mine.

The fetish shop was a bust. Jennifer looked around a bit horrified when we first went in; it looked a bit like a medieval torture setup. "We're just here for a mask." I reminded her. The proprietor was a bit too jaded to really want to help. It took Jennifer a while to get through to him what she wanted, and when she finally did he just shook his head.

"Lady, everything I have in the way of masks comes from the S&M themes - dominatrix or submissive. The dominatrix masks will not cover the mouth, and usually not the whole head. The submissive masks, usually leather, are more what you are asking for, in that they cover the whole head and really obliterate the identity of the wearer. But they have small breathing holes so that the dominator can cut off air, and large zippers over the mouth so the dominator controls when the submissive can speak or drink or suck cock. Some even have zippers over the eyes to let the dominator control when you can see. It's not real neutral! I'll get you one if you want to see it. I'll need to measure your skull."

Jennifer thought for a moment. "I think you may be right sir. Thanks for your time and advice." She smiled and turned to go.

"Anytime," he replied in an almost bored tone. 

Jennifer gave a shudder once she was outside. "Let's get that owl mask, and then a drink! Just talking to him made me feel dirty!"

We got the mask, and a long black cloak for her to wear to and from the party, and then got that drink at a reasonably respectable corner bar. I drove her back to her car. She asked me to hold her new possessions for her.

-----------------

Three weeks later was the big night. The party wouldn't start till ten at the earliest, but she insisted on coming over straight from work. I took her to an Italian restaurant so we could "carb load" for the evening marathon. She thought that was very funny, but ate like she believed it.

Back at my place she shed and hung her clothes. "I have a favor to ask. I want you to trim my bush for me, like this." Her bush was naturally somewhat of a diamond shape, about as wide as high, and coming an inch or two up her belly. She used her finger to trace straight horizontal and vertical lines, and it wasn't until she did it a second time that I got she wanted me to turn the diamond into a down pointing arrow. 

"What, you think no one will be able to find your sex on their own? Or won't know why you're there?" I laughed as I went to the bathroom to get the scissors and shaving supplies. 

"No, but I'm really sort of scraggly around the edges, and I can't figure out what else to do with it. Besides, I thought it would work for this party to do the arrow."

"Oh, it will work!" I assured her. "Now, put this towel on the bed and lie down for me."

I worked very carefully and precisely, and managed to only give her a minor nick. I checked my work with my lips to make sure I left no stubble behind. This got her very aroused, but I refused to give her any relief. "Save it, love! With any luck you'll need it later!" She groused, but good naturedly. 

She lay on the bed watching me get ready. I had picked an old English Falstaff costume, with a full fake beard and a walking stick. I told her the stick was "... so I can beat the vultures off your body, if necessary!"

"Don't jump in too quickly!" Was her response. It took her two minutes to be ready, a record for any woman I'd ever known. Of course, she wasn't really wearing anything, not even lipstick. We took a cab downtown.

She clung tightly to my arm as I presented our fancy "invitation" at the door. Inside, about half the people that would eventually show up were milling around and chatting like any normal party. One or two couples were trying to get things started. The room was large, and over-decorated in what I assume was meant to be a Baroque style. There were lots of columns and mirrors. Around the edge of the room, between the free-standing columns, were tables: bars for drinks, tables of finger food, and tables with free-standing wash bowls, washcloths, and condoms. Each table was attended by a formally attired helper, and as I surveyed the staffing, I began to understand the price I had paid for the tickets. Inside the ring of tables were overstuffed chaise lounges and other soft pieces of furniture. The carpet was very deep and remarkably soft, the center of the room open. A four piece band played soft jazz from one corner of the room.

I suggested a drink, and some mingling before she checked her robe. She nodded, still taking it all in.

After a drink, and watching the increasingly frequent explicit exploits of our companions, she signaled she was ready to take wing. I escorted her to the coat check, took her robe, gave her a kiss, and checked the robe while she wandered off. For the rest of the evening, I kept an eye on her to ensure she was ok, but did not approach or interfere in any way. Besides I was keeping reasonably busy.

My costume allowed me lots of leeway to just walk up and fondle any woman in sight. Playful grab-ass, I thought of it, though I was as likely to grab a breast. One couple turned on me offended, but then cracked up when they saw my costume. She grabbed my crotch in payback.

Wouldn't you know it, but one of the first ladies to decide to take me on was wearing an equally old English milk-maid outfit, with lots of petticoats and complete with a little wooden bucket and long blonde braids. Our two costumes just begged to be united, so off we went. The puckered elastic top of her blouse pulled down over her ample breasts easily. My pants had an oversized flap in front, so undoing two buttons left me ready. She wasn't wearing, uh, bloomers. We played with each other until she couldn't stand it any more. I tossed her petticoats up over her belly, and took her, holding her ankles high in the air and wide apart. She squealed delightedly, and in a few moments was cresting hard. It was crazy-erotic enough that, combined with anticipation, I was just about at the point of inevitability myself when she came down from her crest. 

She suddenly held up her hands and begged me not to cum inside her. "Please, pull out! I beg of you, sir!" I was surprised enough I just did what she said. She sat up enough to grab my cock, rip the condom off, and start stroking me. She was skilled enough I didn't think to object. Damned if she didn't pick up her milk pail and "milk" me into it! To my disbelieving stare, she smiled innocently and said that she had to get a full pail of "milk" before she could go home tonight. I would have thought an over-full pussy would be more fun, but to each their own. She skipped off happily.

I noticed Jennifer moving through the crowd slowly, stopping to touch or be touched. She circled one man, who returned the favor. She took his hand and placed it on her breast. About that time I got distracted again.

Later Jennifer was laid out on a chaise lounge with one man beneath her and one on top.

I was amused to find that the costumes I really responded to were of the feline category. An attractive woman in a cat-suit is always a rush, for me, now that I think of it. The first one I ran into was playing the domestic cat: licking, rubbing up against others, etc. Her costume left breasts and pussy uncovered, of course, and consisted mostly of large holes over hips, belly, back. She didn't need to take anything off to be available and cuddly.

So we cuddled and then shifted to a rear entry position, the misnamed, in this case, "doggy" style. Later she was astride me. I had given her one orgasm, but she was starting to look at me funny. I explained that, by choice, I was avoiding ejaculation because then I could do this again right away instead of having to sit out a while, and she relaxed. After a few more moments of grinding against me, her eyes were glazing over, so I gave her a few hard thrusts and pushed her over the top again. She smiled her thanks, then lifted, slid her body down my legs, and licked my cock clean, like a cat. That was nice.

Jennifer seemed to be stuck on the chaise, now with several men in attendance, but at least was never alone.

A couple distractions later, and another cat came along. This one was all in shiny black leather. I pointed my walking stick at her, and she started stalking me. We circled each other slowly, both licking our lips, and I could feel my response swelling. The tension built as we stalked each other until she suddenly caught me and knocked me over onto an overstuffed chair that I hadn't even noticed. She ripped my pants, or at least the loosely held flap, down and claimed her prize. My brains fell out on the floor.

She was very good, both in terms of oral sex and her cat imitations. You would have thought she had a catnip mouse instead of my prized manhood in her mouth. It felt wonderful, but was a fearful performance to watch. We continued wrestling for control, as well, raising the tension even higher. When I suddenly realized I was about to lose control, I grabbed her head and pulled her up my body. She came willingly enough, but it was obvious that I would have to pin her down, literally, to get the much desired penetration. I caught her legs and flipped us, and dove my painfully erect cock deep into her body. 

She let out the growl of a cat in heat, and continued wrestling for control with me. I was working up quite a sweat both containing her and pumping my manhood into her. She arched in orgasm, again loudly growling her passion, then relented enough to flip herself into the ever popular doggie, or kitty, position.

The moment was perfect: the view of her ripe ass, the smell of her hot sex, the feel of my cock repeatedly pushing her flesh aside, her claws raking my balls with each thrust, and finally the fire of my cum racing through my loins and cock.

By the time I was spent, I was bent double, holding onto the arms of the chair to maintain balance, my forehead in the middle of her back. I was still hard inside her, but had not the energy to move any more. So she started moving. At first her hips moved in a circle around my impaled member, but she built up both amplitude and speed until she was wantonly and randomly rubbing her pussy and ass against my pubic area. She started growling again. I held myself against the onslaught as firmly as I could until she again arched up in loud and long release.

She collapsed on the front of the chair, with me on top of her. After a moment, I was able to slip off to one side, and she turned to face me and smiled. We actually chatted and laughed. It was very nice. After a while she stood and stretched, just like a cat after a nap, all long and sleek. She looked in Jennifer's direction. "Your date?" She asked.

"More her protector, or safety valve. Why?" I replied, surprised.

"Oh, you've just been keeping a reasonably close watch on her. She's nice?"

"I think so. You may have to find out for yourself," I replied.

"I just may do that." My black cat-lady slunk off in Jennifer's general direction. I found that I was pretty well sated by now and losing interest in anything more than constantly fondling anything female within reach. I watched as the cat-lady slowly circled Jennifer and her one lover of the moment. No sooner was he done than the cat lady literally chased him away. She took Jennifer's hand, and led her to the "freshening-up" and food tables. I gathered they took their time, but eventually Jennifer was back on a chaise, the cat-lady straddling her face and simultaneously eating Jennifer's pussy. The bend in the chaise and their own positions left a lot of room between their bodies for hands to roam, and even from the distance I could see Jennifer's and the cat-lady's bodies bucking and twisting.

The Milk Maid wandered by, much the worse for wear by now, and with her pail still mostly empty, from what I could see. It can take a long time to fill a pail, one tablespoon-full at a time.

A Victorian Queen, in a regal dress with just a few straps for a front and looking like the Queen of Hearts from a porn 'Alice in Wonderland' decided she wanted to "eat a peasant". While I had no objection, and it felt good, it was also starting to seem more silly than erotic. In the background, I could just hear Jennifer and "my" cat lady.

Shortly after, the cat-lady lead Jennifer across the floor in my direction. When they reached me, the cat-lady nodded to me and held Jennifer's hand out, and then turned and left without a word when I took it.

The bottom half of Jennifer's mask was a tangled mess of wet feathers.

"Time to go?" I asked. Jennifer nodded. The clock in the coat-check room said half-past two, so it had been a full evening. In the taxi, she took off the mask, looked at it and laughed heartily. She leaned against me, slid her hand into my pants, but when I asked her how it went, she just pressed a finger to her lips. I had to wake her when we got to my apartment.

------------------

I woke to the smell of fresh coffee and an empty bed. The clock said nine-thirty. Jennifer was sitting in the kitchen in her normal at-my-home outfit of skin, contemplating the inside of a coffee mug. Her hair was a riotous mess, but even that looked sexy.

I kissed her on the top of her head. "Mornin', beautiful!"

"Mmm ... good morning, yourself, stud! Sleep well?"

"Like a well-fucked log."

"No shit! I'm surprised I'm not sore. Maybe I have achieved full slut-hood?"

"Naw, but we can keep working on it."

She stuck her tongue out at me. I poured myself a mug of black succor and joined her at the table. 

After a bit, with some of the cobwebs clearing away, I asked again how it went.

"Are you talking about the sex?"

"Actually, I'm more interested in the identity and expectations thing, since that was your motivation."

"Yeah, that went real well!"

"Good. Costumes can add extra expectations, so your choice turned out to be a good one? And the sex was OK?"

"Holy shit!" Her head dropped to her arm on the table. After a moment she looked up, but still had a bit of a distant look in her eyes. "The evening was in-fucking-cred-i-ble! Seriously. I learned a few things about myself, too. Yeah, I am happy with my costume choice. Before I go on, though, I need to say thank you, thank you, thank you! It was an experience I will never forget. Wow!"

I nodded acknowledgment with a big leer.

"However, I don't think I want to do it again. Not right away. That's the first thing I learned. Even with four cocks and eight hands all over and in me, your one cock, two hands, and one mouth are better. The other was just too much. I actually think I ran out of erogenous zones!"

I chuckled. "But you did have some unique and enjoyable experiences, right?"

"Oh yes."

"Tell me, in detail. I love stories, especially when they are sexy and true."

She took a deep breath, and glared at me from under her eyebrows. "Oh, ok. I owe you that much." She smirked at me, "uh, three acts, I guess. In the first act, call it the first hour, I wandered the floor, touching, caressing, enjoying short bursts of oral or intercourse and then moving on. I really felt anonymous and strangely powerful. As you had suggested, I never said anything, just let my body and hands talk. I was really aroused and enjoying myself.

"Did you see that one really tall black man? Oiled body, tiny gold-lamé speedo and sandals?" I nodded. "God, he was gorgeous, muscled and taut all over. I just had to get into his very full Speedo, and when I did ... Let's just say that his tool was large, even for his height. Wow! I can't really deep throat, as you know, but I could barely take a third of him in my mouth. I did my best and got him hard. Then he bent down, lifted me into the air by my ass and settled me down on his cock. I put him in his place, and wrapped myself around him as he penetrated right past my cervix. He kept lifting me and thrusting into me, slowly and sensuously. God, he was hot and good! And he stretched me like never before.

"I exploded almost immediately, but he kept pushing me through a couple more explosions before setting me back down on my feet. I could hardly stand, much less walk. Damn!"

She went silent for a bit. "I had to go get an energy drink after that. Then I resumed moving around, molesting every guy that looked remotely interesting. I never thought to molest any of the women, and really wish now that I had. Anyway, after a few minutes I found myself sort of trapped between two guys, twins apparently, dressed in tiny togas and not much else. Mediterranean mythology seemed to be a frequent theme last night."

"I saw them. I would guess they were the Gemini twins," I said.

"Yeah, well, I didn't have much of a chance to contemplate the subtleties of their identities, because one had his hand on my snatch and the other had his hand on my ass. Actually, one had a couple fingers in my snatch and the other was working a finger into my ass. For a couple moments we just stood in the middle of the floor while the two of them finger fucked me, one in each hole. 

"Talk about a short circuit! When my legs gave out, they kindly held me up and carried me to one of the chaise lounges. The one impaled my pussy and lay back with me on top of him, facing him, and my legs held wide apart. The other lubed my asshole, and proceeded to bury his cock all the way in. Then they started fucking me in earnest. So the second thing I learned is I like a double-fuck, or whatever it's called."




Expectations



"Double penetration," I offered. 

"Yeah, that. It took a while and about two dozen orgasms for me, all mashed together so I couldn't count them if I wanted, and they both came within seconds of each other. Jesus! I thought I had hit the mother-lode, but apparently I was just getting started.

"I needed another break when they were done, to clean up and then get another energy drink. Then came act 2.

When I went back out on the floor, I found myself surrounded by four or five men. They were all fondling me, all over. A couple of them were already hard, so I had a cock thrust between my thighs from behind, brushing against my pussy and another pressed against my belly. Hands came and went on my breasts, belly, neck, ass, thighs, everywhere. So much was happening at once that I couldn't figure out what I was supposed to do.

"They gradually herded me back to another chaise lounge, and lay me down with my ass on the end of the lounge. For most of an hour, I had one or another cock in my pussy, another in my mouth, generally others in my hands as I stroked them, and I continued to have hands all over my body. My orgasms picked up where the twins had left off and just kept rolling. I was sure I was never coming down. As one guy was spent, another would take his place.

"At one point I opened my eyes and, in addition the the four cocks I had, another guy was didling my clit and two guys were masturbating over me. At just that moment, one came all over my belly and breasts. Others rubbed the cum into my skin." She paused for a minute. "Some day, you'll have to explain to me why that is a thing for guys.

"Anyway, eventually the crowd thinned, until the last guy gave me a tender kiss on my now very sloppy and thoroughly fucked pussy, smiled, and was chased off by a gal in a black cat-suit. So started act three. 

She helped me up and took care of me. She helped me clean up, being very erotic about how she did it. She got us refreshments that went beyond just an energy drink. They had some really good treats that I had not noticed earlier. High sugar content. Once I was back to feeling like myself, she guided me back to a chaise lounge, lay me down, pressed her pussy into my face, and buried her face between my legs!

"You are good at eating my pussy, she was just a tiny bit better. Damn! And the wonderful musk of her pussy about drove me out of my mind. I orgasmed and never came down. I was screaming into her snatch, and trying to mimic what she was doing to me. We turned that nice feathered mask into a real mess. Wet feathers just don't look that good.

"But I was on overload, and had been for most of the evening. All of a sudden, I hit a wall, and I had to signal her to stop. It just wasn't working for me any more. My last lesson: I actually do have a sexual limit! So she helped me up and brought me back to you. How did she know to do that?"

So I described my own tussle with the black cat-lady, in full detail.

"So, when I was eating her, that was your cum I was tasting?"

"Mostly her, I'm sure. I think my gifts were somewhat diminished by the time I tried to fill her" I replied. "I wish I could have gotten her name. It would have been nice to invite her along on one of our long weekends."

"Hmmmm." Jenifer replied. "I like the way you think, but in reality, you are all I need. My first lesson, remember?" She smiled at me, and then seemed to get distracted. "Another lesson: I can love eating pussy!" 

Suddenly she was staring at me with a shocked look on her face. "Oh ... my ... God!" She whispered, "I can't believe it! I had sex with a woman! Me? And an ass fuck including a double ... double ... whatever ..." She was waving her hand for me to help her.

"A 'Fun Sandwich'?" I interjected.

"Huh? What?" She now looked confused.

I held my hands out flat, palms facing each other. "One guy on bottom, one on top, and you in the middle. A 'Fun Sandwich'!"

She stared at me a few more seconds. "You're sick!"

"Anyway," she continued, "sex with a woman, anal sex with two guys, and a full blown gang-bang? All in one night? I did all that? That's not me! I don't do that stuff!"

I laughed. "Welcome back! I think your normal identity and all it's expectations just reasserted itself. All those things you 'don't do'? Just expectations you place on yourself. So I guess the 'night without expectations' was successful, since you even managed to leave your own expectations behind."

She stared at the ceiling, her faced scrunched in concentration. "That puts an interesting perspective on all those supposedly outside expectations, doesn't it? I'll have to think about that."

She took a deep breath, leered at me, and stood with her hands on the table as she leaned forward, breasts dangling enticingly. "I do have one more expectation. I expect you to take me to bed and fuck my brains out before I have to go back out there!" 

*****

I hope you enjoyed this story. Ratings and comments, even critiques, are always appreciated as that is how I get better at this.



Expectations



NOTE: This is the first in a possible series of stories based on this theme. Reader's comments and suggestions are welcomed.

The open newspaper on the hotel bed was turned to the same page it had been for the past few mornings. Every time he looked at it, his restlessness rose. He wanted to do something about it, but could he? The Excel document screen, on his laptop, began to swim before his eyes. He had been working on the new store projections for the last three hours. A break was needed. He poured the remaining coffee into his half filled cup and turned off the coffee maker. The luke-warm mixture tasted bitter. His stomach felt queasy. He was anxious. However, he knew his feelings had nothing to do with the coffee or the work.

He had read the bulletin board review 8 months ago. It had stuck in his mind. Now every time he came to Trenton, the images and urges it spawned welled up inside him. He was lonely and horny. It had been over five years since he had been with a woman. Surely, something had to be done about that. Trenton offered him the perfect opportunity. However, could he, would he take it? Screwing up his resolve, he returned to his laptop, saved the spreadsheet, and opened the browser. With a series of determined clicks, he found and opened the escort review page. After some searching, he found the review and the name that had haunted him. Then he grabbed the paper and his finger traced the columns in personal section of the classifieds. He stopped at one ad. It read.

DCUP PLEASURE. Playful, sexy & very busty. Lingerie and toys. Erotic massage & private encounters. Morning specials. Independent, private & discreet. Sasha 555-9779

The wording did not match the description in the escort review, but the name and the telephone number were the same. His stomach knotted. Now that he had found her what would he do? He tentatively reached for the phone, but it rang before he could touch it. "God damn it!" he muttered to himself. The voice on the phone ended everything he even might have wanted to do that day. Sixteen hours later, he returned to the hotel suite dead tired. 

Thursday morning found him staring intently again at that one classified ad in the Trenton Examiner. The muted voice of a sportscaster came from the TV. The hockey scores were ignored and room service breakfast was consumed with little interest. The paper crinkled in his lap as he rocked back and forth in the desk chair. Indecision clouded his mind. Then he summoned his courage, seized his cell phone, flipped it open, and dialed.

"Hello?" The voice was soft and tiny.

"Hello, may I speak to Sasha, please?"

"This is Sasha."

"I would like to inquire about your rates and if it would be possible to reserve some time with you?" 

"I have a 15 min..." The words all seemed to blur in his ear and the crackle of the connection made it even harder to hear her soft voice. There was a silence and he realized that she had finished talking.

"That sounds fine," he replied tentatively. "Would it be possible to reserve an hour and a half tomorrow, perhaps sometime in the morning?"

"Sure, what time?" came the pleasant reply. They agreed on 9:30. She asked him to call to confirm the appointment and at that time, she would give him directions to her place. 

"Thanks Sasha. Oh, by the way my name is John. Bye for now." 

"Thanks for calling. See you tomorrow." The dial tone filled his ear. His hand trembled as he put down the phone. Nervousness gnawed at his stomach. "You've done it now," he mumbled to himself. "What do you expect will happen?" His rhetorical question brought a choked laugh and his hands continued to shake as he reached for the coffee cup on the desk.

Sasha snickered as she put down the phone. "Just what I need, another John. I'll bet he doesn't phone back," she quipped to herself. "He's too polite, too timid. I'll put him down as a massage clinic booking." She smiled and opened the neat leather bound appointment binder marked Tuscany Reflexology that sat by the array of phones on her kitchen table. Sasha scribbled in the appointment then she went about preparing for her next customer.

The phone rang at 9:15. It surprised Sasha. It was John. He was seeking directions. She had forgotten all about him and now hurried about the house to prepare for his arrival. The nervous excitement of meeting a new client thrilled her. Sasha started to play the "what will he look like game" as she adjusted her lace bra and slipped into the matching black thong. A black micro mini and a red boat-necked jersey top completed her ensemble. She felt the tension building in her thighs and stomach. The latest adventure was about to begin.

Sasha's instructions were easy to follow. John was soon parking the rental car in front of an older storey and a half house in a quiet residential area. As he walked up the driveway, he noticed that the residence suffered from benign neglect. He rang the basement entrance buzzer as instructed and a voice from inside acknowledged, "Just a moment, I'll be right there."

Sasha hurried down the stairs, yelling as she went. A final check of the room, everything seemed to be in place. Then she entered the downstairs hallway, which doubled as a laundry room. She paused. It was a mess. Dirty linen and towels were piled high. What would he think? "Fuck it," she thought to herself. "He's not here to give a Good Housekeeping inspection." She put on her best smile and opened the door. 

The door swung open to reveal, well, not what John had expected. Before him stood a short, average looking woman. She was wearing a micro mini and red top. However, he was drawn to the cheerful face that framed an incredible smile and sparkling blue eyes. She greeted him with "Hello, I'm Sasha. Won't you come in?" She held out her hand and beckoned him inside.

"Hi, my name's John," he responded and shook her hand. "Here, this is for you," the words were delivered with halting uneasiness. "The card inside has...well... your gift," he nervously continued and handed her the plastic bag containing the card and a box of chocolate truffles.

"You're a sweetie, thank you," Sasha replied as she gave him a reassuring little hug. "Come this way." As she walked towards the room, she glanced in the bag and thumbed the envelope. Sasha smiled "Well we're off to a good start. Better than I expected," she thought to herself.

When he followed her down the hallway he glanced at the laundry piles and thought, "Just like my wife's old house. Jesus, I hope the sex is better!" They entered a dimly lit room containing a massage table, bed, chair, and a bookshelf on which sat a portable stereo. A local radio station was playing softly and John noticed that the stereo's clock was set to the wrong time. It was obvious that he was to put his jacket and clothes on the chair. With casual talk about the weather, Sasha began to undress. John followed her cue. Soon all their laundry was either on the floor or on the chair.

Sasha saw before her a run of the mill man in his fifties, nothing special. John found a short woman with large breasts and a flat stomach. Still he was drawn to her eyes and smile. "Let's begin with a massage," suggested Sasha and she directed him to the bed. John placed himself on the towel in the middle of the bed. She asked, "How long are we here for?" 

"Err... A hour and a half?" came the tentative reply. 

She inquired if the correct amount of money was in the envelope and was surprised to learn that there was more. "Ahh...This is getting better by the minute," she thought to herself and began to rub the oil onto his back and legs.

Her hands felt good as they traveled over his body. As she moved about during the massage, she did not seem to mind when his hands touched her. In fact, she even seemed to position herself to encourage it. Sasha suggested that he roll over and began to rub his chest and stomach. Soon her small hands were rubbing his cock. She squeezed his shaft and cupped his balls. "I think we need one of these," Sasha said coyly as the sound of crinkling plastic was heard. John took the opportunity to rub her ass and trace a finger up and down her crack. "Mmmmm... That's nice," she mewed as she repositioned her body for better access and then moulded the condom over his member. John luxuriated in the sensations of her mouth and the wetness of her pussy. The tension built in his thighs. When her fingertips fanned lightly over his tightening balls and she twirled her tongue around his glans, he exploded with a long, loud moan. He was totally lost in the enjoyment of the moment. Relief spread throughout his body. Sasha continued the stroking and sucking until he began to soften. Then she grabbed some tissues, cleaned him up, and lay down beside him.

This new client intrigued Sasha. When she talked, he seemed to listen. The conversation was not stilted or phony. He seemed genuinely interested in what she had to say. As they lay together, she stroked his face and his chest. She kissed him and enjoyed the feeling of his lips as they traced the outline of her ear, her neck, and her shoulder. His hands stroked her breasts and his fingertips teased her navel. His warm lips and slow tongue movements made her nipples hard. She enjoyed the way he sucked them. Sasha's caution eased slightly as pleasure began to fill her body. His fingers had found her wetness. His tongue soon joined them. Sasha gasped, arched her back, and opened herself to him.

Sasha felt him reposition his body between her legs. John's fingers and tongue delicately outlined her pussy lips and teased the hood of her clit. His gentle kisses, his soft sucking, and the slow penetration of his fingers caused a pelvic heat that soon spread throughout her entire body. Then Sash did something unexpected. As the sensations that centered in her pussy and clit built up and consumed her every thought, she relinquished control. Sasha allowed John's tongue and fingers to take over. They seemed to be everywhere. Her hips began to buck. Visions of colour filled her mind. She tensed and shudders ran through her entire body.

John felt Sasha's hands grab the back of his head grinding his mouth into her pussy. She guided him as his tongue, in unrelenting fashion, flicked back and forth across her engorged clit. John reveled in her taste. Sasha became even wetter as his curved fingers moved in and out of her vagina. Each finger stroke was met with a pelvic thrust and a muscular contraction. Suddenly the room was filled with an erotic cry. Her thighs squeezed John's head in vice-like fashion. Her hands pulled down hard against the back of his head. His mouth and nose were sealed tightly against her pussy. Her body arched, twisted, and convulsed. John's fingers and tongue did their best to keep pace with her gyrations.

It was one of the most mind-blowing orgasms Sasha had ever experienced. Her breath came in gulps. She could not speak. She could only moan. Gradually the sensations reduced in intensity. The movements of his tongue and fingers slowed. Sasha's body tingled and she mentally fought to regain control. Her breathing began to return to normal as she drew John up beside her on the bed and started to kiss and delicately stroke his damp face. She maneuvered him onto his back and pressed her body against his, pinning his arms. She could not allow him to touch her. She was too sensitive. Sasha tenderly started to rub his flaccid cock. Soon her warm kisses and experienced hands brought him to another climax.

John had no real idea of the time as he cleaned up and dressed. The stereo clock indicated that he had been there for nearly two hours. The visit had not been what he had anticipated. He felt drained but satisfied as he met Sasha in the hallway by the door. She reached up, kissed him full on the lips, and gave him a big hug. As she broke the hug, she hesitated and looked up at him. Her eyes sparkled and she smiled as she said, "Thanks for coming. I hope that you will call again soon."

"I expect I will," he replied as he slowly released from her hug and opened the door.



Expectations



Three years of an online friendship. Three years of blog posts and comments, instant messages, e-mails, postal mail, even small gifts exchanged. Three years of digital photos and Webcam images and the occasional physical photo to hold in my hands. Three years of the occasional telephone call and multiple Skype conversations. Three years of helping her to learn about this strange realm which I inhabit and which has intrigued her for many years. Three years and half a world of distance. 

...and she is finally coming. Her career has reached a milestone, and she has been transferred to the States. After only two weeks in the new office, she has already impressed her new bosses and colleagues. Yes, she is a beautiful young foreign woman with an easy-on-the-ears accent and a soothing personality matched by a gracious heart and a fashion flare which attracts all eyes in a room, but from the recent conversations, her colleagues are only now truly beginning to realize just how intelligent she is, that she did not sleep her way to her position, that behind the bright blue eyes she scrutinizes the world and devours the details as she processes information with the facility of a supercomputer, providing the output in elegant reports and to-the-point speech which makes it hard to believe that English is not her native language. 

That is the friend I have come to know over the past three years. That is the woman who will soon be landing at Hobby. That is the aspiring submissive who is coming to finally gain firsthand knowledge of the theory taught over the past three years. 

Perhaps only one other person on this planet knows me better than she does. She knows my strengths and my weaknesses. She knows my fears and my desires. She has shared my victories and consoled me following my defeats. She knows that I can be gentle and loving or mean and sadistic. Yet she is airborne at this moment, surrounded by perhaps two hundred other people heading to the same airport, perhaps some of them also meeting someone in person for the very first time. 

I know that this first face-to-face meeting will be significant. I need to ensure that I present the proper image, for she is coming to meet a longtime friend, but especially to learn... and possibly to escalate what we currently share from a deep meaningful friendship to something more. 

My clothes are already laid out: all-black shirt, jeans, socks, shoes, and even underwear; my usual silver rings and the old Japanese yen coin strung on a black leather strip. As I walk out the door, I will pick up the sunglasses with the lenses so dark that someone could be standing directly in front of me and not be able to see even the outlines of my eyes. I know that I will present a very foreboding image, that most people at the airport will see me and fall back. 

...but not her. She will see me and embrace me like the long-lost friends we have become due to circumstances of time and distance. 

...circumstances which her bosses mitigated in transferring her to the States. 

...circumstances which the long holiday weekend is mitigating in our schedules. 

I already know deep in my heart that she can be a good and effective submissive. She has the desire to learn, the desire to please, and the will to keep striving even during times of difficulty. She has the curiousness of a cat with infinite lives, and the inquisitiveness of a professional student seeking to learn everything possible for the sake of knowledge itself. I know that she will be able to take all that I can teach her -- on this weekend and on many other visits -- and transform it into something meaningful to us both. 

In one way, the weekend has already begun. Despite her sexually-charged body, she has not been permitted to touch herself for the past six days, other than the bare minimum required for cleaning herself. Her last test message to me before she boarded the airplane had been telling: 

I'm hornier than I have ever been, but I'm obeying.  

I stand inside the closed door, looking at the bookshelf to the right. The collar and leash are already there, but I reposition them to ensure that she will see them immediately upon entering my abode. I already know what will happen when she arrives: I will order her to strip as I set her bags aside, and once she is naked, I will apply the collar and the leash and order her to her knees, parading her from room to room, showing her firsthand where and how I live while reinforcing her lower status for the long weekend. Then and only then, as I sit on the sofa and enjoy her performance, will she be permitted the orgasm she craves, and that will be her final orgasm until just before I must return her to Hobby for her flight back up north. 

Glancing at my watch, I see that I need to leave in forty-five minutes. I walk into my small home office, the space which doubles as a makeshift dungeon, noting the floggers and the canes mounted on the north wall, appraising the collapsible bondage horse which has already been erected, noting the coils of rope and the lengths of chain atop a small table. This is where she and I will spend much of tomorrow, these four walls absorbing ever bite of leather and ever grunt of pain and every squeal of pleasure. This is where she will be photographed while blindfolded and videotaped while being choked. This is where she will gain much of her firsthand knowledge and begin the long and arduous transformation from a willing submissive to -- hopefully -- a devoted slave. 

I look at several of her pictures on the wall by my desk. One is of her in a canoe with her best friend from high school, both of them smiling for the camera as they approach a sandy shore. One is of her alone, topless, gently squeezing her smallish breasts. Another is a close-up shot of her favorite thong, the outline of her sex clearly evident. 

She will be wearing that thong underneath her skirt when she arrives. 

With a smile and a strong erection from the anticipatory thoughts in my head, I move to the master bedroom to undress and prepare myself, for I know that she has expectations of me which I need to meet. I need to prove myself worthy of her submission, worthy of accepting her slavery if she chooses to penetrate this realm so deeply. I must be strong and firm with her, yet not at the cost of my usual nurturing nature. I need to be a friend to her, yet I also need to mentor her. And most importantly, I need to quickly learn how to read her -- her body language, her unspoken pleas and needs -- so that I can ensure the safety of her body and her mind and her heart. 

Each of us is certainly anticipating this visit. I already know that she will live up to my expectations. I can only do my best to live up to hers. 



Expectations



Author's note: For those of you who have read my Spiderman and Mary Jane story you will recognize the plot.



We'd been dating for months. We'd both agreed to wait for sex because the anticipation would make our first time much more memorable. Every night when a call came and you rushed out of the fire station in your turnouts I would get so turned on just thinking about how big your cock was going to be. I would go home after dates with you and take my vibrator out of my bedside drawer, plug it into the wall, and place the little knobs on the tip right over my clit. When I would get really worked up I would take out my 8 inch dildo and stuff it into my pussy. It wasn't easy because it was almost as big around as my wrist. I would have the most intense orgasms imagining that it was your cock instead of my dildo. I was so sure your cock would be at least 8 thick inches. I was tired of waiting to have you fill me up. If you didn't make a move on me after our next date, I was going to take the initiative and come on to you. 

You were worried. You wanted to fuck me so badly you were having wet dreams worse than you'd had since you were 15 years old. But you'd been in my bedroom before and had peeked inside my bedside drawer when I wasn't looking and you'd seen the size of the dildos I used to masturbate so you knew what I wanted. You were worried because you had a small dick. Not just smaller than average but really small. You measured yourself every time you jacked off to see if you'd gotten bigger. The magazines you looked at (penthouse, hustler, playboy), all had ads for penis pumps in them. They all said that a penis pump would make a guy's dick up to 60% larger than it had started out. So far you hadn't gotten any bigger on your own so you ordered one. When it came in the mail you got a little hard on just from seeing the plain brown paper wrapping. You took it to work with you to try it out but got a call before you could. 

I saw you jump into the rescue truck in your turnouts and just the sight had me opening my drawer and pulling out my vibrator and dildo. I thought you were so hot in those turnouts and couldn't wait to have your huge cock inside me. I plugged the vibe into the wall, put it against my clit, and shoved the thick dildo into my pussy. I knew you would be so much better but this would do for now. I had another incredible orgasm just thinking about how hot you were and how good sex with you would be. 

You finished the call and hurried back to your room. You took off your turnouts and left them in the hall. It had been difficult to concentrate on the call because you kept thinking about the penis pump in your bedside drawer. You opened the drawer and took it out. Just looking at it and thinking about what it was going to do for you made your cock jump. You were so horny you didn't know if you'd be able to pump your dick long enough to make it work. 

You glanced over the instructions just to make sure you knew how to work the pump. You got out your ruler and measured your hard little dick. 3 and 3/4 inches...the biggest it ever got. You placed the pump over your dick and started squeezing the bulb. You didn't know how long or how many squeezes of the bulb it would take to increase your size but you thought you could see a difference already. You pumped enough that you were close to cumming. You took the pump off your dick and measured again...4 inches. That little bit of size increase got you so horny that you couldn't help himself. You took your dick in your thumb and three fingers and gave it a few quick jerks. You came almost instantly. You got out your ruler and measured again...3 and 3/4 inches. You were disappointed that the effects didn't last but you thought that if you used it enough then you might be big enough, long enough to satisfy me. 

I had finished orgasming and put my toys away. I called you and we made a date for two weeks from that day. I was excited but decided to restrain myself from masturbating. It would make the sex better. 

You knew you had to get the penis pump to make your dick bigger before the two weeks were up. Every night when you came home from work you would get out the penis pump to try to make your dick bigger. You always measured before, during and after. And it was always the same. 3 and 3/4 inches before, 4 inches during, and 3 and 3/4 inches after. 

Two weeks go by. You're almost frantic. The penis pump only increases your size temporarily and then not by much. I'm also frantic. I haven't used any of my toys or even my fingers for two weeks. If you don't fuck me tonight I think I might just have to rape you. 

We had a typical date, dinner and a movie, but this time the sexual tension was thick enough to eat with a spoon. We were both so horny we didn't pay any attention to the movie and barely tasted our food. Your eyes stayed on my tits and mine kept looking at your crotch. I couldn't see anything but I thought it was because you kept turning your hips away from me so I couldn't see...teasing me. We got through the date, made it to my place, turned to each other, and almost caused bruises on our lips because we were so hot for each other we just couldn't wait any longer. I whipped my top off over my head. I'm not wearing a bra and can see the heat in your eyes. 

I looked at your crotch again but still couldn't see anything. You started groping and sucking on my tits. I told you to strip. While you took off your shirt and boots, I took off my shoes. I stood and watched you unbutton and unzip your pants. You' so hot and horny for me that you forgot for just a few seconds how small you are and how big I expected you to be. 

You whipped your pants and light grey boxer briefs down. I stared at your dick. My mouth dropped open. 

"That's it!?" I said as I busted out laughing. 

Your face flamed. You were paying for forgetting to tell me that you were small. 

When I finally calmed down and caught my breath I said "What do you expect to do with that?!" 

You were doing an almost full body blush, you were so embarrassed. But your little dick was still hard...my laughing even seemed to have made it harder. 

I told you, "Well I guess it'll be easy to suck you off". 

I unbuttoned and unzipped my jeans, still giggling. When I got them off and stood up from pushing them down, you stared at my bald pussy. I wasn't wearing any panties. Your cock jumped again and you made a strangled sound as ropes of sticky white cum jet out of your tiny little dick. 

I started laughing again. Between gasps for air I said "O my...god. You can't even...wait till...I suck...you!!!" 

I fell to the floor from laughing so hard. Your face was so red from embarrassment it's almost purple. I eventually caught my breath again and walked on my knees to you. Your little bitty dick has stayed hard. I wrapped three fingers around it and started to giggle again as I stroked your little dick. I took the whole little thing into my mouth and sucked on it some. It only took two minutes before you cum again. I swallowed your cum and backed off, giggling again. 

"Not just small but fast too!" I said "Get on the bed." 

Face flaming, you obey. I had straps tied to my four poster bed that I used to tie you up with. I then proceeded to tease you for the rest of the night telling you that it's your punishment for having such a little bitty dick. I wouldn't let you fuck me because I wanted you to have a big cock. I punished you for disappointing me. You came twice more just from being teased. I giggled and laughed both times, embarrassing and turning you on even more. By the time dawn breaks, I'd let you lick me to orgasm three times but I still didn't let you fuck me...I said between giggles, when you asked if you could, you were just too tiny to do me any good.