58 comments/ 121598 views/ 68 favorites Playtime By: Surfer_Rod Hey there all my lovely ladies and listeners! Bringing you another sensual and fun erotic recording! However, instead of an erotic story or fantasy of mine, I decided to do something different. The Premise: There is none. I got alot of requests for me just to beat my cock for you all, so I did, but I also instruct you how to play with yourself. No games, just you and I cumming for each other. Connected by your orgasms! I'll be returning back to fantasies next time, so I hope you all enjoy this little change of pace. Let me know if you like, and I hope you all enjoy! * * * * * Click Here to listen. (33 min/mp3) * * * * * Playtime [All characters in this story who are involved in serious sexual situations are at least 18 years old - PS] We shall not cease from exploration And the end of all our exploring Will be to arrive where we started And know the place for the first time. Christine stared at her computer screen, searching for inspiration. She had extracted this quote from the movie, and, searching for it on the Internet, had quickly discovered that it was from a poem by T. S. Eliot. She had to write a short synopsis on themes from The Magus for her Film Studies course, although the exact outline for it was to be given this coming week, and she was somewhat stumped for an idea; maybe using something from the quote to explain the movie might work? The film itself was very confusing, and controversial. Her professor had explained that it had been a critical failure when it was released. So much so that in the lecture notes there was a quotation from Woody Allen: "If I had to live my life again, I'd do everything the same, except that I wouldn't see The Magus." "How do you write about something you don't even understand?" she thought to herself, becoming quite frustrated. She had thought that Film Studies would be more or less a bird course; she only needed three more credits to finish her degree, but had quickly discovered, over the course of the first few weeks, that nothing could be further from the truth! Of course this wasn't the only thing that perplexed her, as she sat at her desk in her bedroom. Her roommate, Jill, also fell into that category. When she had first met her, after responding to an ad to share an apartment posted at the Adult Learning Centre, she thought they might have a lot in common. After all they were both doing night courses, and working towards a degree, while holding down the proverbial "McJob". But events soon proved her wrong. Jill's driving ambition, at least as far as the non-academic portion of her life was concerned, was to get an education of the sort that involved lying naked on a bed with your legs wide apart, so a variety of young men could get closely acquainted with, and take advantage of, your female anatomy! Christine had never met someone who was so overtly promiscuous. In some respects it quite upset her. Naturally cautious, she was astonished at some of the male specimens Jill brought home on many an evening, and the sounds that came through the paper thin walls of the apartment from her roommate's bedroom. It wasn't that Christine was a prude, just that she thought Jill's behavior was bordering on reckless. Who knew where the latest hunk Jill was using to satisfy her female desires had been, or had done, and to whom? But otherwise, over the course of the first two months of shared accommodation, she had been an ideal roommate, doing more than her fair share of the cooking and cleaning, and always leaving the common areas of the apartment neat and tidy. Christine had moved out of the house at the end of August; things at home were just no longer tenable. Christine was the product of a teenaged pregnancy, and for as long as she could remember her parent's marriage had been rocky ... to say the least! The final downhill slide, in terms of a life at home, had started after her parents had divorced around the end of third year, which had upset Christine enormously. It was probably why she ended up on academic probation after the first semester of her fourth year ... she just couldn't seem to focus on school. At least the university let her keep the credits where she had achieved at least a C average. Since she had to take the rest of the academic year off, she got a job as a hostess at a high end restaurant, which wasn't very difficult for a very attractive young woman like Christine. She had no illusions; her role at the restaurant was purely decorative, but it paid at least semi-decently when you counted your share of the tips, and the work, which mainly consisted of greeting and seating the patrons, setting tables, and taking telephone calls for reservations, wasn't particularly taxing. When she came off academic probation she decided to finish up her remaining credits at night school, and to keep the job; she liked having the money, and she certainly enjoyed having her own car for the first time! She had selected the Film Studies course because it was given on a Monday night, when the restaurant was closed. The decision to leave home had been difficult, but it was the only way of avoiding the problem with her mother ... and more specifically the new, very much younger boyfriend she was reliving her youth through. Of course it wasn't surprising that her mother had found a boyfriend, Christine had clearly inherited her fine features from her mother, who, at not quite forty and still very slim and attractive, could pass for a much younger woman. As for the boyfriend, Christine didn't like him from the moment she met him, and even less so when she walked into the kitchen by accident one evening; she was supposed to be at work but her shift had been shortened, and discovered her mother, stark naked from the waist down and bent forward over a table, while her equally partly nude paramour energetically fucked her from behind ... it took a few seconds before they even noticed her ... and only a few seconds more for Christine to make a hasty exit! "And 'fuck' is definitely the right word for what they were doing," Christine said to herself, wrinkling her nose as she recalled the incident, "because those two would never even be remotely accused of 'making love' ... it's all about sex ... sex ... and more sex!" As embarrassing as the kitchen incident was, the absolute last straw was the ridiculous way her mother was now dressing, or perhaps more correctly, undressing! Not that it was Christine's place to be judgemental, but her mother's bare breasts were easily seen by anyone caring to look underneath a variety of low cut tops, or mostly unbuttoned blouses. And lately she was wearing skirts so short that not even a hooker would be caught dead in them, and even worse, nothing underneath; so it was pretty difficult, whenever she sat across from you, not to be treated to any number of disgustingly graphic displays of her mother's totally exposed female anatomy ... completely shaved no less! Who did she think she was, Sharon Stone? No doubt the boyfriend was the intended audience for all this exhibitionism. "Sheesh!" Christine thought, giving her head a little shake, and feeling her cheeks burning as she recollected her mother's wanton behavior ... and attire, or more properly, the lack of it, "I've read that divorced women can act a little crazy trying to re-affirm their sexuality ... but my own mother is re-writing the textbooks." So it was definitely time to move out, and to let her mother act out all her pent up fantasies without Christine as an audience. "Hopefully it's just a phase," Christine mused, nodding her head sadly, and feeling very much the parent, not the child. * * * After about another hour of trying to twist T. S. Eliot's words into some type of theme for a paper, Christine finally gave up. She'd go and ask the professor for some guidance next week before class ... it seemed the only way. She got up and went out to use the washroom. She had broken her life-long habit of changing into a nightgown and then preparing for bed, because her mother's stud had a nasty habit of coming upstairs just when she was about to have to walk down the hall to her bedroom ... probably to catch a glimpse of Christine's naked body through the semi-sheer material. He had made it quite clear during several very awkward conversations that he would be happy to perform the same sexual services for Christine as he was already doing for her mother ... as if! After finishing in the washroom, she returned to her room to change for bed. Slipping out of her jeans and top, she then undid her bra and lowered her panties, tossing both of them into the laundry basket she kept on the floor of the closet. Stopping for a moment, she contemplated herself in the full length mirror that hung on the back of the door. At just about 23, she was, she knew, about as perfect as she ever would be. Her light brown hair cascaded down to the middle of her back in a series of gentle tendrils, framing her face, whose features had been the envy of all of her girlfriends even before adolescence. For work, or the occasional party, she would wear some lipstick in a shade of modest pink, along with mascara, eye liner and soft blue eye shadow to emphasize the colour of her eyes. She rarely used any type of foundation; her clear, virtually perfect skin had a certain natural glow all by itself! Looking downwards, she contemplated her breasts. They weren't anything remarkable, just a nice medium size. Finally, there was the slightly darker puff of curly brown hair at the intersection of her legs, not quite concealing the warm, soft, sensitive valley that lay a little lower down. No young man had explored there so far; hopefully that would change soon! It was hard to say why she was still a virgin ... it wasn't as if she didn't have all of the same burning desires as a Jill did, but so far she hadn't acted upon them ... except of course by herself in bed when it just got too, too urgent, and something had to be done about it! As an adolescent, she only seemed to attract very cocksure guys who were quite full of themselves, and although she had dated quite a bit, she had never let things go much beyond kissing. However, towards the end of high school, with one boy in particular, she had been very tempted to give in to her biological urges, but something stopped her. "Maybe I just didn't want to end up like my mother," she often mused to herself, "a pregnant high school dropout!" Quite a few of the men who came into the restaurant, especially on the luncheon shift when they didn't have female escorts, tried to start a conversation with her, or even boldly suggested a date. But she never accepted these offers, even though many of them were not only attractive, but clearly successful ... or they wouldn't be dining in such an expensive place. Perhaps she sensed somehow that they were all exactly like the boys she had dated, just too very sure of themselves. She had rather expected that she would meet and fall for someone at university, and nature being what it was, enter into her first sexual relationship. But since she lived at home, and commuted to classes each day, she wasn't very involved in the social side of campus life. And she found the work difficult, nothing at all like high school ... so much so that she spent most of her spare time in the library trying to keep up with the rest of the students ... which meant that she didn't belong to any type of club or activity. And as far as the bar scene was concerned, she could barely set one foot inside a door before some guy was trying to hit on her, so she just stayed away, except for the odd time when a few girlfriends dragged her there against her better judgement. Turning away from these thoughts with a sigh, she retrieved a nightgown from her bureau. Dressing quickly, she hopped into bed and turned out the light. The last thing she thought about, given her pathetic social life, and before she fell asleep, was Scarlett O'Hara's famous last line: "After all ... tomorrow is another day!" * * * But tomorrow ... and tomorrow ... and the tomorrow after that, didn't bring any change. Her mother had called her several times to see if she was alright ... and her father had treated her to lunch to celebrate her new found independence. Finally Monday came, and she spent most of it reviewing the ideas she had finally come up with to discuss with the professor. She had e-mailed him a request to see him before the lecture, and he had responded with his Monday office hours, suggesting she pick a time during the day if it didn't interfere with work ... otherwise he would see her after class. She responded by suggesting a late afternoon time; then she could go shopping and grab something to eat before class. Later, she left her apartment and walked to the subway station, parking downtown was very expensive, and got on a train. Riding along she reminded herself that most of the shopping would be of the window variety, as she was on something of a budget now that she had to pay rent along with the upkeep of her car. She found the professor's office without difficulty, and knocked politely on the open door ... her professor was seated at his desk; the rest of the office was awash with books, papers and many, many DVD's. "Please come in Ms. Carlisle," he responded, giving her a smile. The conversed about the movie for a while, and then Christine presented her ideas to an approving nod. "That's why I use this film," he explained, "because despite the very fine cast, it's far from a classic; not even very good, truth be told ... but the confusion of the Nicholas character over what is real, and what isn't, makes students think ...which helps them learn about how to analyse a movie ... especially a difficult one like this. I get far too many papers written by Film Studies students who are just regurgitating the plot ... that's not what this is about ... it's about trying to understand what the screen writer and director are attempting to convey as they tell a story through the actors ... what are the metaphors or themes that they are suggesting to the audience?" "I always give the class a week to flounder around on this movie," he continued with a chuckle, "and then tonight I'll be announcing that this will be a group paper ... whoever gets you in their group will be lucky, with those ideas ... it will be interesting to see which one you and your colleagues choose." * * * When she got to the small lecture room later on she saw a flip chart with 4 sets of names on it. "Those must be the groups," she decided to herself, as she went up to it. The professor had mischievously named each group after an incident from the movie, and seemed highly amused at the commotion the appearance of the chart was making. There were 21 students in the class, so one group had six members, the rest five. The professor explained about the groups, and then suggested that they recess for the balance of lecture period to get themselves organized to start the project ... there would still be a short written synopsis on a theme from the movie to be handed in, along with a presentation to the rest of the class by each group. He had already passed out an outline of the activities the groups should consider when they convened, and had also arranged for some small meeting rooms on another floor of the building where they could start their work in privacy. When they got to their room, one of their group, a woman who was quite a bit older than the rest of them, took charge, introducing herself as Marie, and explaining that she was a single mother who was trying to complete her degree as a mature student. Further introductions followed. There was a nice looking brunette, Caitlin, who had graduated, but wanted to change her major to Theatre Arts, and needed this course, and a couple of others, to accomplish this. A boy about the same age as Christine, or maybe a little older, Alan, explained that he had originally taken a 3 year arts program, and was now trying to upgrade it to a 4 year degree, with the permission of the registrar because his marks had been good. He was hoping to apply to law school. He was working at what he laughingly described as a "brain dead" job during the day while he did this. Finally there was another boy, Matt, again seemingly around Christine's age, who appeared rather shy; he averted his eyes whenever Christine looked at him. He confessed to the group that he had a Bachelor of Finance degree and was a financial analyst. He was taking the course for personal reasons, because he had always had an interest in films; it was sort of a hobby. The best news about her group posting, Christine quickly decided, was that there were two, hopefully eligible, guys she would be working with. Alan was perhaps the better looking of the two, with dark eyes and dark hair and an athletic looking build. He was also outgoing, making jokes and gesturing with his hands when he spoke. Matt was tall, well over 6 feet, and slim, with brown eyes and light brown hair. You could tell that he wouldn't be the person that would care to guide the group, and would need to be drawn into participation. However, Christine decided, considering him out of the corner of her eye, he had a very good degree, and probably a good job ... he was certainly nicely dressed for a night course. "If they are both taken," Christine thought to herself with a grimace, "I'll slit my wrists!" After a short discussion, they decided to make Marie their group chair. She led the five of them through the professor's agenda, until they were interrupted as he came into the small conference room to see how they were doing. "Ms. Carlisle has some very interesting ideas," he said, "which she shared with me earlier today. I don't want to stifle anyone else's creativity, but you should certainly consider them, they are all quite original, and any one of them would make an excellent theme for a presentation." Christine blushed as the others looked her way; she wasn't used to being the centre of academic approbation ... quite the opposite. When the professor was gone Marie asked Christine to explain what she had developed. Once she had read them out from her notes, a lively discussion on the merits of each one ensued ... with even Matt offering his point of view in a careful tone of voice. Once one of the ideas had been selected, the group feeling it would lead to the best presentation, Marie divided up the roles and responsibilities. "Alan," she directed with a bit of a laugh, "I think you should give part of the presentation, since you seem to like to talk anyway." Alan responded with a large grin; and you could tell he wouldn't mind being centre stage at all! "I'm a terrible presenter," Marie confessed, "so let's leave me out of this part of the project ... Christine, Caitlin ... who would like to assist him?" Caitlin volunteered, which suited Christine perfectly, she didn't like making presentations either. "So here's what we'll do," Marie said, "Christine, Matt and I will prepare a draft synopsis ... bullet points for a start ... and then I'll forward it to everyone for review. We have all next Monday night to finalize it, and at the same time Alan and Caitlin can start on the presentation. If they need more time, which they probably will, they can meet separately ... that should make the workload fairly even ... is that all right with everyone?" There was collective agreement on the plan, so given that it was already almost 9, they decided to adjourn. "Marie," Christine suggested, "unless you and Matt have to leave maybe we could start on the synopsis now?" "OK," Marie replied, "but would you mind if we went to my place ... it's not far away, 10 minutes ... so I can send my babysitter home ... Caitlin, Alan, you're welcome to join us." "I can't tonight," Alan said, "my fiancé is expecting me to pick her up." "Damn," Christine thought to herself, "one down!" "I have something due for tomorrow night," Caitlin said apologetically, "I'm afraid I have to go too." "Matt?" "Fine by me." "Let's go then." * * * He three of them got off the subway after a short ride, and followed Marie as she led them to her apartment. The building was old, but clean, Christine noticed. Marie invited them in, and promptly paid the babysitter and sent her home. "Just one child?" Matt asked politely, obviously trying to make conversation. Playtime "Yes a girl; she's 10," Marie said, "and very smart ... I have high hopes for her ... of course it's a proud parent talking ... so you have to be careful about what you believe," she added with a laugh. "She's very pretty," Christine said, looking at a picture of what was surely Marie's daughter that sat on an end table by a sofa; there was quite a beautiful little girl smiling at the camera in it. "If she ends up half as lovely as you," Marie replied, clearly pleased, "I'll need a baseball bat to keep the boys away! Do you have anyone special, Christine, or do you just accept 20 dates a week?" "That's a laugh," Christine said a bit bitterly. "How so?" "The men I attract aren't exactly the greatest ... usually all ego ... just once I'd like to meet someone who doesn't think he's God's gift to women!" "That would be me," Matt said, entering the conversation in a tentative way. You could tell by the look on his face that he needed to summon up some courage to make this little joke. "What a nice looking, intelligent guy like you," Marie said to him, laughing, "surely there are oodles of girls just dying to get a little better acquainted with you ... no doubt without their clothes on!" she added with a mischievous smirk. "If you meet any of them," Matt said, getting into the spirit of it, and taking his cue, "please let me know, because last time I checked no one was falling at my feet, much less undressing for me." Marie gave him an unbelieving look, and then rolled her eyes at Christine, "at your age ... and single ... they must line up at your bedroom door ... do you ask them to take a number?" "Not exactly," Matt protested with a grin, seeing her skepticism, "I'm a charter member of the romantically challenged club." "Interesting ... sounds unattached," Christine thought to herself in a hopeful way as she enjoyed the banter between Matt and Marie. "Is there anyone in your life, Marie?" Christine finally asked, after the laughter died down. "I have a friend ... who might be more than that ... we'll see ... when you have a child you have to go a bit slowly ... I don't want to upset Amanda, her father still sees her every week and I think she hopes he and I will get back together ... but that's not happening. My life is complicated enough with work, and school, and Amanda ... a big time romance ... I'm not so sure." "You still have to think about yourself," Matt said thoughtfully, "although that's easy for me to say, I don't have responsibility for a daughter," he added apologetically. "I suppose so," Marie said in a bemused way, "would either of you like a drink of something ... I have beer and white wine?" "A beer for me," Matt said cheerfully, "but only on the condition that the next time we get together I buy." "Ditto," Christine said, "white wine for me." "I may be a single mom," Marie said, "but I'm OK, a couple of drinks won't break me ... Rick, that's my ex, is very faithful with the support cheques ... thank goodness." After Marie got the drinks they worked away at the synopsis for about an hour and a half, making decent progress. Matt used his laptop to enter the notes, and when they were finished, he plugged in a USB wireless modem and e-mailed the file to Marie and Christine, which meant that she now had his coordinates ... better and better! * * * When they left Marie's, Christine and Matt went in separate directions on the subway, Matt had gone back the two stops to the campus to get his car. As Christine sped away on the train towards her station she mentally considered Matt. He did seem nice, and had responded appropriately to Marie's playful teasing about his sex life. As she left the station for the short walk home, she made up her mind. "What's the old saying: 'Desperate times call for desperate measures', or something," she mused inwardly. Once she was safely inside her apartment, she opened up her laptop and let her e-mail client synchronize with the server over the Internet ... and there it was, Matt's message. She hit the button, and then typed: "Hi! Was just thinking on my way home that if you're not busy this Wednesday evening, maybe we could get together for coffee or something, and go over the synopsis? Christine." Taking a deep breath, she hit the button; and then said a little prayer! For once, apparently, God was listening, because only a few moments later a new message showed up in her Inbox: "That could work. Where shall we meet? Is 7-7:30 OK?" "Yes!" she exclaimed, raising her hands to the ceiling, and apparently startling Jill, who almost immediately rushed into her bedroom to see if she was alright. But Christine had no time for Jill, waving her away with one hand while she composed a new message with the other, proposing to Matt he should come her way, and telling him where she lived, and that he could park in the "Visitors" of her building if that was convenient. "What's going on?" Jill asked a few minutes later when Christine joined her in the kitchen for a snack and a drink. "I met a nice guy at university," Christine said, "we're going out for coffee Wednesday." "An actual date ... goodness," Jill said with a large grin, while feigning disbelief, and putting the back of her hand to her forehead. "Well I wouldn't go that far ... we're supposed to be working on something for my course ... but it's a start I guess. I think we'll just walk over to Starbucks, it's not far." "Good plan ... and then if you like him after the coffee, you can bring him back here, and your pussy can be the dessert!" Jill giggled. "It's not going to be like that," Christine protested, blushing. "Well unless you're doing it somewhere else," Jill said cheekily, "you haven't gotten any since you moved in here ... you must be past desperate!" "I'm not going to sleep with a guy I just met, even if I really like him." "You mean like I do," Jill said with a sly grin. "That's not what I meant," Christine said defensively, "what you do with the guys you meet is up to you ... I'm not your mother." "Thank goodness!" Jill said with some enthusiasm, "That's one of the reasons I got my own place, so I could get fucked in the comfort of my own room whenever I wanted to, instead of all the sneaking around at home ... you just wouldn't believe my mother ... she's from another century ... I'm surprised she didn't make me wear a chastity belt." "You really shouldn't use the f-word so much," Christine admonished. "Why not?" "I don't know; it just doesn't sound very nice ... especially coming from a girl." "Oh, for heaven's sake!" * * * Christine worked diligently on the synopsis before she went to work Tuesday evening, so that she wouldn't look like her request for the coffee date wasn't anything other than a desire to do well in the course ... which, needless to say wasn't exactly the first priority! Wednesday, as she changed out of the clothes she had worn for her lunch shift at the restaurant, all sorts of wild thoughts raced through her mind. This was the closest thing she had had to a date since her second year of university, when her on-again off-again relationship with a former high school boyfriend exploded; probably because she wouldn't sleep with him, unlike most of the co-ed's he was certainly meeting on his campus ... girls like Jill, no doubt, who had no scruples or hesitation when it came to naughty activities that involved removing one's clothing. "Maybe I was just stupid," she often thought to herself lately, as she recalled him, and some of the other boys she had dated in the past, and her reluctance to engage in sex with them. She already had eye makeup, from being at work, so she just freshened up her lipstick and added a spritz of perfume. Her best skinny jeans; and a short sleeved baby blue knitted top with a scoop neck completed her outfit. She didn't add a necklace; she didn't want him to think that she was getting all dressed up, like she would for a "real" date. Waiting in the living room for what seemed forever, but was actually only about 10 minutes, the intercom finally buzzed. When Matt announced himself, she grabbed her laptop, purse and jacket and raced out the door, leaving a highly amused Jill in her wake. As they left the apartment foyer, with Christine pointing out the direction they needed to go, she gave Matt a short rundown on her job, just as a way of starting some conversation. Matt asked her about her shifts, and she mentioned that she had been home for a couple of hours, because after the lunch service was completed, she had to help get the restaurant ready for the evening. "Did you get any dinner?" Matt asked politely. "The chef's at the restaurant have a soft spot for me," Christine explained, "when I have the lunch shift they always send me home with one of the entrées in a 'doggy bag' ... and the food is always fantastic." "Lucky you," Matt said, "I have to either go out or make something for myself ... it's not that I can't cook; but sometimes it's hard to get motivated to make a meal for just one person. I try not to use too many pre-prepared dinners, 'cause they're not as healthy as using fresh ingredients, and they have a lot of preservatives in them ... but sometimes, after work, if it's late and I'm tired ... hello freezer!" "I know what you mean," Christine said, "that's where having a roommate can be good ... every once and a while Jill and I ... Jill's my roommate ... if we're both in, we plan a meal and then have dinner together ... we don't have all that much in common, other than we're completing our degrees at night, but at least it's someone to talk to." "I had a roommate for about a year," Matt confessed, "but when he left I didn't bother looking around for another one ... there were too many issues ... like whenever I went away on business or for a vacation he would have a party ... and even though he cleaned up a little, things were always a mess afterwards, and stuff got broken ... I was glad he went voluntarily, because I was getting ready to kick him out. It's more expensive this way, but at least your place isn't a dump when you come home from being somewhere." "Do you live in an apartment?" "No, a condo ... two bedrooms ... my parents helped me with the down payment, so I could build up some equity ... maybe someday I'll be able to afford a house ... I mean if I'm married or with someone ... but right now the condo suits me fine ... it's more space than one person really needs, but it is in a good location, and seems to be going up in value." When they arrived at Starbucks, they ordered two latté's, each one priced about the same as the national debt of a smaller country. Matt insisted on paying. Sitting at a table, Christine opened up her laptop, and a busy hour or so whizzed by as they expanded the synopsis. She found that working with Matt was very easy; he listened intently to her ideas, often improving them with suggestions of his own, so much so that the document was becoming fairly final ... and quite polished! "I'll e-mail it to Marie when I get home," Christine said, "in case she has any other comments ... we should be done with it on Monday." "Let's hope the next movie is better than this one," Matt said, getting up and pulling her chair out, and then helping her put on her jacket, "because I took this course for personal interest ... no one told me that this atrocity was on the curriculum ... watching it should be classed as cruel and unusual punishment!" Christine nodded her head, and laughed at his joke. She hadn't felt this comfortable around anyone in a very long time. As they walked back towards the apartment, Christine asked about Matt's career. "I graduated three years ago from the co-op program ... the company that employed me during my work terms offered me a full time job ... so that worked out pretty well for me. But I know that I'm going to need an MBA at some point if I want to get promoted ... my company might sponsor me, but their policy is that you have to be there at least 5 years ... so I have to wait, but I don't mind my job ... in fact it's pretty interesting, and I get to travel on the company nickel now and then." "That's good," Christine said, trying to encourage more conversation. "The best part is the annual planning sessions," Matt said, "I attend them because I present all the figures ... and you can really learn a lot from the senior people ... like how they see the business and the customers ... to tell the truth it's probably better experience than all the degrees in the world, but, let's face it ... you need those pieces of paper!" Christine noticed how animated Matt had become as he described this aspect of his work. Her suspicions that he had a good job, and was probably "going places", as people used to say, were becoming confirmed. * * * Christine hoped she might hear from Matt, but her Inbox was strangely silent for the remainder of the week, and weekend. Frustrated that he didn't try to contact her, she felt an almost uncontrollable urge to make up some excuse to send something to him, but her pride got in the way. "Maybe he doesn't like me ... or maybe he's gone away ... he did say he travelled for work once in a while ..." There was nothing for it but to wait for next Monday ... and hope! * * * When Christine entered the conference room she discovered that Marie, Alan and Caitlin were already there, however, there was no sign of Matt. She had just managed to sit down when Matt did arrive, escorting a very attractive women who appeared to be in her late twenties or early thirties. "Oh no," Christine thought, her romance prospects sinking in her mind like the proverbial lead balloon. "This is my sister Erica," Matt explained, "she's here from out of town ... we're going out for drinks after we're finished ... I hope everyone doesn't mind." "Thank goodness," Christine thought, finally able to breathe again. There were introductions all around, and then some discussion on the synopsis. "Thanks to Christine and Matt," Marie said, "I think that Caitlin and Alan can get going on the presentation ... as far as I'm concerned the written portion is done." Alan suggested that everyone else except Caitlin and he could adjourn, they would work on the presentation, and then circulate something via e-mail for comments. Christine, Marie, would you like to join us for a drink ... my treat? "Thanks Matt," Marie said, "I'd love to; but just one, then I have to get home to Amanda ... what about you Christine? Christine just nodded her head and tried to favour Matt with a smile ... hopefully it said the right things! The four of them left the building and walked over to the campus pub. Marie chatted with Erica about her situation, and Amanda, while Christine and Matt followed along in silence. The pub was fairly crowded, even though it was a Monday night. The majority were college aged males who had come to watch the NFL football game, and catch a few beers in the process. "Look at all these cute guys, Erica," Marie said with a laugh as she surveyed the scene, "do you think any of them like older women ... especially, really, really hard up older women?" "For sure," Erica replied, returning her laugh, "they pretty much like anything in a skirt, as long as it gets out of that skirt in a hurry ... and with no strings attached!" "Perfect," Marie said with a wink in Erica's direction, "because I just want to borrow one of them for a half an hour or so." "Oh I suspect they're good for more than that," Erica said, "... hey check out the one sitting on the end stool; talk about hot ... he could get my engine running, I bet." "Maybe we could share him," Marie responded, "just how married are you?" The two of them were giggling at their foolishness when the waitress came to take their drink orders. Afterwards, Marie and Erica started to kibitz again. "Your brother tells me he's romantically challenged," Marie said provocatively, "I find that hard to believe, Erica." "It's true ... my baby brother hasn't exactly set any world dating records, at least as far as I know ... and if all he does is work, ride his bike, and watch his movie collection, things won't get any better ... as I keep telling him ... that's why I suggested he take a few courses; he needs to get out more," Erica said in a knowing way. There was a short pause as everyone digested this information, while Matt squirmed under the gaze of Marie and his sister. "Christine," Erica asked boldly, turning in her direction, "are you with someone right now?" "In my fantasies, yes ... in real life ... not so much," Christine replied, desperately trying to inject some humour into this admission. "So what are you waiting for, Mr. Dateless Wonder," Erica scolded Matt, while pointing an accusatory finger in his direction, "you told me you thought she was very nice ... so stop stalling, and ask her out to dinner." "But ..." Matt said a bit nervously. "No 'buts'," Erica admonished, "ask her out, right now, so I can hear you do it ... it`s just dinner, you don`t have to marry the girl ... although she would make a beautiful bride, wouldn't she?" Christine felt the colour rising in her cheeks. "It would be really good if you would say 'yes'," Erica said to Christine in a stage whisper from behind her hand, "I've been trying to get him to call you for the last couple of days." "I'm waiting ..." Erica said to Matt, while she rolled her eyes towards the heavens. "Ah ... ah ... Christine would you have dinner with me some time?" a hesitant voice that came from Matt's direction asked. "No, no, no ... not 'some time', you idiot," and exasperated Erica said, "try 'this weekend' ... ask her which day she might be free ... do it again ... and this time, get it right!" "Okay, okay," Matt said, clearly somewhere between humiliated and chastened, "Christine, I was wondering whether, if you're free one night this weekend, we could have dinner?" "Much better," Erica pronounced. "That would be lovely," Christine answered politely, trying to keep the excitement out of her voice, "I have all of Friday off ... about what time?" "I'll get a reservation for 7 ... is Italian okay ... or would you prefer something else?" "Italian is fine ... good actually." "I'll pick you up around 6:30," a relieved looking Matt said. As Christine sat there, slightly embarrassed, but also thrilled, Erica and Marie gave them a round of applause, which caused some of the other patrons to look in surprise in their direction. * * * The dinner date was a success, just as the meeting over coffee had been. When Matt dropped her off at her apartment, he escorted her to the front door of the building. Before going inside, Christine told him what a good time she had had, and then gave him a little kiss on the lips to encourage him to ask her out again. Apparently that strategy worked, because he did ask her out several days later, and one date led to another, and another; and the one little kiss led to another, and another, each one becoming slightly longer, but not yet intimate, which surprised Christine. Every other boy she had dated would have tried to "push the envelope" by now. At this point the new romance got a little sidetracked, as Matt had to go to Europe on business for several weeks, however, they had made an arrangement to have dinner, and to see a movie, when he returned. Christine just couldn't wait to be with him again! If she was still living at home, she would have invited Matt in after the upcoming fourth date, to create an opportunity for some serious kissing, and maybe even some other things, but Jill presented a problem; the apartment didn't really allow for a lot of privacy, and they could hardly make out like a couple of teenagers on the sofa with her roommate there; what if Jill needed to use the washroom, or get something from the kitchen? And suggesting to Matt that they go into her bedroom had serious implications, to say the least! For sure he'd think that it was an invitation to have sex, there would be no way around it; and worse, it would appear to be her idea. It wasn't that she was against surrendering herself to Matt, no, quite the contrary, but she just couldn't see herself letting Jill overhear them; the way she had listened, blushing, on many a night, to Jill getting noisily laid by her latest male specimen! Playtime Maybe it was the romantic side of her. Somehow she wanted her first sexual experience to be more spontaneous, more unscripted ... notwithstanding, she thought to herself with some inner cynicism, that you put yourself on the pill right after the first date with Matt! What she really wanted was for Matt to sweep her off her feet, and then finesse her, supposedly reluctantly, out of her clothes and between the sheets. But exactly how to accomplish this, without appearing to be like a Jill, eluded her. During his short absence, Christine had spent a lot of time thinking about Matt; and wondering if she was falling in love. He was always so nice and polite to her in his earnest serious way. Unlike other boys she had dated he wasn't all wrapped up in himself, even though he had plenty of accomplishments. And there were some other things, inside of her, totally unexplainable, that made him increasingly attractive biologically ... and as a result Christine's instincts and body were letting her know in no uncertain terms what should happen next. So, despite her new budget limitations, Christine had splurged on some sexy underwear, although whether and when Matt would get to see it was still an open question. As she put the expensive set on, and then selected one of her nicest dresses from the closet, her heart was singing with anticipation. Maybe, somehow, tonight was the night! But it wasn't! When they got back to her apartment, she asked him to come upstairs, explaining that the apartment lobby wasn't very private. She noticed that Matt looked more than a little uncertain as they stepped out of the elevator and she led him down the hall way by the hand. When they got to the door of the apartment she stopped him, placing her hands on his shoulders, while gazing boldly into his eyes. "Matt," she whispered. "Yes," he replied nervously. "Please kiss me." At which point, impatient, she wrapped her arms around his neck and attempted to initiate a serious kiss, opening her mouth so their tongues could entwine, while pressing her body against him for the very first time. It was pretty clear to Christine, as Matt awkwardly responded to her kiss, that he didn't have a whole lot of experience with women, which made her smile inwardly. This was a problem she was well qualified to fix, because even though she was a virgin, she had ended more than a few dates locked in a series of lengthy torrid embraces with various young men. Somehow, as she kissed Matt, and he began kissing her back, a fire began to burn inside her. He felt so good ... so strong ... so wonderful! Her resolution not to invite him inside was seriously weakening, and the prospect of having him in her bed, Jill or no Jill, was very, very appealing. When they finally broke apart, they just stared a little hungrily at each other. "Christine," Matt said in a quiet way, now averting his eyes, "I ... I ... don't know whether I should tell you this ... but I think ... well I'm not sure, but maybe ... you know ... I mean ..." Christine knew what he meant, even if he couldn't quite say it yet; she had been out with enough boys to know when the words were real, so she started to kiss him again. But they quickly broke apart, interrupted by the sounds of voices from inside the apartment. One of the voices was Jill, the other voice was male. "Oh, no," Christine thought. "Did I give you permission to take those off," she heard Jill say in a teasing, provocative way. "You didn't exactly say no," the male voice offered in response, "now did you." There was another pause in the conversation; probably they were kissing ... or something! "Oh God," she heard Jill say in a low voice, "that feels so good." There was a further period of silence during which Christine knew she was blushing, she could feel the heat in her cheeks. "We better ... go ... into my bedroom," Jill finally said to whoever was with her. Even through the thin apartment door you could hear that she was a little breathless, "my roommate ... could come home ... anytime." Christine looked at Matt, he was blushing as well. "I better go," Matt said awkwardly, "your roommate has company." Christine nodded her head in agreement, a little crushed. How could she possibly allow Matt inside now, where he would certainly be treated to all of the sound effects arising from the sexual escapades going on in Jill's room? It would be too, too embarrassing for both of them. No way! "Will you be OK?" Matt added cautiously. "It's happened before," Christine said, trying to keep the disappointment out of her voice, "goodnight Matt ... I had a wonderful time tonight." "So did I ... how about next weekend?" "I'm actually off Sunday ... the restaurant is reserved for a private party and they only need one hostess ... can we do something?" "Sounds good," Matt said courteously, giving her a nod and a hopeful smile. They heard the muffled sound of a door closing inside the apartment. "I think it's safe to go in there now," Matt suggested in a cautious way. And with that he turned and began walking towards the elevator. A very disappointed Christine put the key in the apartment door lock. * * * As she surveyed the living room after closing the door, something caught her eye immediately, a pile of Jill's clothes on the sofa with a balled up pair of scarlet panties topping it like a cherry on a cupcake. She had seen them before, because sometimes Jill walked back and forth to the apartment washroom in her underwear before dressing for a date. Jill called them her "fuck me" panties, and they were truly tiny, even smaller than the ones Christine had recently purchased. Whenever Jill wore them, you knew that some guy was going to get lucky! Christine hung up her coat, and put her purse in her bedroom. She went to the washroom and prepared for bed. After changing, she got into bed with her laptop, and started up one of her favorite movies, using earphones to block out whatever noises might be coming from Jill's room. But she couldn't seem to concentrate on the film, so she finally decided to try to go to sleep. Putting aside the laptop, she turned off the light and lay there, trying to ignore the sounds of lovemaking that floated all too clearly through the darkness; little whimpering cries that told her Jill was close to an orgasm ... she'd heard them enough times before to know. Discouraged, frustrated and aroused, she hiked up her nightgown so she could play with her pussy; closing her eyes, and pretending it was Matt's hands that were seeking out the warmth of her intimate sexuality; and one of his fingers exploring deep inside her hot, wet vagina, while others shamelessly parted her labia to expose and torment her swollen sensitive clitoris. When she reached the inevitable climax, she bit the pillow to avoid making any sound. Afterwards, released, at least for now, from the sexual tension that had built up inside her, Christine rolled on her side to sleep ... it was finally quiet next door ... and at last she managed to drift off. * * * After the disappointing end to the latest date, Christine was in a determined frame of mind by the next day; with thoughts and plans as to how to seduce Mat in the forefront of her mind. "Even if I had sex with Matt every day for months," she decided, trying to justify her intentions to herself, "I would never catch up to Jill ... or most other girls my age for that matter." Her boldness was a surprise ... who was this young woman that now inhabited her body? Just before she had to leave for her shift at the restaurant, Matt had e-mailed her: "What would you like to do Sunday night?" The girl who wasn't Christine immediately, and shamelessly, seized this opportunity: "I've never seen your condo. Why don't we get some things, and we'll cook dinner at your place?" A few further messages sealed the arrangement. Matt would pick her up early enough to allow for some shopping, and then they would eat in. Matt said he had the movie she had mentioned that she wanted to see. * * * As Christine dressed for her date with Matt, she was filled with nervous expectation; and excitement. During her shower, she had been fantasizing about Matt, imagining him making love to her. As she dried herself off, her pussy tingled from the contact with the towel. A further exploration down there revealed that she was wet! "God, I'm turning into a sex-crazed slut, just like Jill," she thought helplessly as she considered her predicament. But she couldn't go out like this; she was so turned on that the crotch of her panties could end up soaked through! Gently scolding herself, she sat on the edge of the toilet seat and then applied the vibrating handle of her electric toothbrush to her misbehaving femininity until she managed to get relief via an intense orgasm. When she had recovered from it, she carefully cleansed and dried the still sensitive region between her legs before slipping into her white semi-transparent version of the Jill "fuck me" panties, and putting on her new push-up bra. Back in her room, after drying and fixing her hair, she debated about what else to wear, finally deciding that low heels, a short denim skirt, and a light pink form fitting sleeveless top with a deep v-neck set the right tone for shopping ... and cooking ... "... and fucking!" she added to herself with a nervous giggle, both relishing and regretting her newfound boldness. What was the matter with her? Immediately afterwards, chagrinned, she gave herself a rather stern mental lecture to stop thinking about sex, or another session with the toothbrush would certainly be needed, and Matt would arrive soon. She had just finished dressing in her bedroom, and was putting on her jewelry, when a tap on the door from Jill announced that Matt had arrived. "Coming," she responded, adding a few dabs of perfume to her wrists, neck, and also farther down where a tiny bit of her cleavage was exposed. When she opened her bedroom door, she discovered Matt and Jill engaged in a lively conversation, with Jill laughing provocatively at something. She decided to get Matt out of the apartment as soon as possible, before he and Jill could get any better acquainted. She had no illusions; Jill wouldn't hesitate to seduce a nice guy like Matt, roommate or no roommate, if given even half a chance ... and Matt knew, after the other evening how could he not, that Jill wasn't exactly a virgin! Christine approached Matt and greeted him with a small kiss on the lips. He helped her into her jacket, and she then led him from the apartment, with both of them saying goodbye to Jill, who was still eyeing Matt in a considering way. "You better watch out for my roommate," she admonished him playfully when they were alone in the elevator, "she's not exactly shy when it comes to men ... and she certainly liked the look of you." "So I noticed," Matt replied, "but don't worry ... I can take care of myself ... besides I'm dating you ... why would a girl like Jill interest me anyway?" "Well, let's see," Christine said, feeling greatly daring, "she's pretty nice looking ... and she certainly never plays 'hard to get' from what I've seen ... au contraire!" "Not as nice looking as you; not even close," Matt said gallantly. "There is a farmer's market," Matt said as they drove off, "about 45 minutes from here just off the highway ... I go there quite often ... and the town has a butcher shop with really good cuts and the prices aren't too bad, as well as a bakery, so we can get bread and something for dessert ... is that OK?" "Sounds perfect," Christine answered, "let's go ..." * * * As Matt drove them out of the city and into the countryside, they both admired the breathtaking fall colours, a riot of yellow, orange, brown and red, spectacularly displayed by the trees on both sides of the highway. When they arrived at the small town, Matt parked, and they began touring through the farmers market. Many of the people working the stalls greeted Matt in a friendly and knowing way, confirming to Christine that he was a frequent patron as he had indicated. After an hour or so of browsing and shopping, they had filled the basket Matt had brought with him with a selection of lettuce and vegetables, the red, yellow and orange bell peppers contributing to the autumn palette of the sunny afternoon. Christine's mild protests that Matt was paying for everything fell on deaf ears. "It's not fair," she scolded, "you've already bought me dinner three times." "I guess I'm just an old-fashioned kinda guy," Matt said with a grin, "when you go on a date, the man pays." "And what's a girl supposed to do?" "Kiss him of course!" Matt said hopefully. "Oh I see," a secretly pleased Christine exclaimed in a knowing way, while putting her hands on her hips for emphasis, "and suppose the girl doesn't like the dinner, then what?" "I guess the guy is outta luck!" "I guess he is ... or will be," she warned while pointing a teasing finger at him, and trying not to laugh. But it was no good, Matt started to laugh, and she had to join in with him, taking him by the arm as they started to walk. They returned to the car, and Matt stowed the basket in the trunk, after which they strolled through the small town, holding hands, and chatting about various items in the shop windows that caught their fancy. When they got to the bakery, they purchased some bread, and a blueberry pie that they both decided was just too tempting to be left for someone else. Finally they stopped for ice cream cones, black cherry swirl for Matt, and peach mango for Christine, before heading back to the car one more time to drop off the baking before going to the butcher shop. "What shall we get?" Christine asked, as she inspected the contents of several refrigerated glass display cases full of meat. "How about some beef tenderloin?" Matt suggested. "That's really expensive," Christine ventured with a question in her voice. "You only live once," Matt said with a grin, "besides we're eating in ... it will still be less than going to a restaurant." A shop assistant weighed out a suitably sized piece and then looked at Matt for approval. Christine looked at the price displayed on the front of the scale, and then gave Matt a doubtful glance, "I could eat for a week on that much!" "Oh well," Matt said cheerfully, giving a 'thumbs up' to the clerk, "hotdogs tomorrow I guess." "I thought you said this place was reasonable," Christine whispered, once the shop assistant turned away from them to wrap up their purchase. "It is," Matt answered, "you should see what they would charge for that at the store just down the street from my condo ... you practically need credit references to shop there." "Even so," Christine protested, albeit weakly. Then inspiration hit, and she decided to make a suggestion, given the choice cut of meat Matt had selected, "I know how to make a special sauce from scratch for the tenderloin, it's my grandmother's recipe ... but we'll need some peppercorns ... do you have any?" "Just black ... will that work?" "It's better with the multi-coloured ... can we get some? And we'll also need some whipping cream ... as well as some sherry and a few other things you probably have in your kitchen." "Sounds decadent," Matt said with enthusiasm, "I have sherry, but we'll have to buy the whipping cream ... what else do you need?" Christine listed off the remaining ingredients, with Matt acknowledging that his pantry could meet the rest of the requirements. Christine was surprised that he had chicken stock on hand. "He must really be able to cook," she thought to herself with satisfaction. They took the meat, and then worked their way back along the main street until they got to the car. They decided to leave the remaining purchases until they returned to the city so the whipping cream wouldn't be sitting around unrefrigerated for any length of time. Once they turned off the highway, Matt drove on for a while, and then stopped at a plaza so they could pick up the rest of the items needed for dinner. Matt turned the car in at a fairly new looking building, about twenty stories Christine guessed. "This is it," he said, while waiting for the garage door that led to the underground parking to open. When Matt parked she noticed that the space next to his car also had his name on it. "You have two slots?" "I got them when I bought this place ... my parents told me to pay the extra cost because it makes it a lot easier to sell later on. In most buildings there are only enough extra spaces for just a few units, and the penthouses, to have two." It suddenly occurred to Christine that if she moved in with Matt, she'd have a place to park her car! But a moment later, reconsidering, she gave herself a little scolding. "You haven't even slept with the guy," she thought to herself ruefully, "and you're already thinking about living with him, and expropriating one of his parking spots ... heavens, Jill was right, you are past desperate!" They collected the basket and other packages from the trunk, and Matt led the way to the elevator lobby, which soon whisked them upwards until a tone announced that they had arrived on the sixteenth floor. * * * Christine relaxed on the sofa, a glass of wine in her hand, enjoying the panorama that presented itself through the large picture window. Matt's condo was even better than she had imagined it could be, with a southwest view of a mostly residential section of the city. The thousands of trees that dotted the view had also turned colour, and it made for a spectacular scene in the late afternoon sunlight. "You have a fabulous view, Matt," she said in the direction of the kitchen, where Matt was hard at work. "I know," Matt replied, coming out of the kitchen with a tray and his own glass of wine. Christine saw that the tray held two small blocks of cheese and some rows of crackers. "I don't want to spoil dinner, but I thought you might want something," he continued, sitting down beside her. About an hour later, they were both in the kitchen, with Matt sautéing the peppers while Christine stirred the sauce for the tenderloin. Somehow, as they stood side by side at the gas cook top, their eyes met, and without any words they fell into a passionate embrace, kissing with such intensity that it almost made Christine feel a little faint with desire. When they finally broke apart, Christine just stood there, looking at him, uncertain, but hopeful, of what would come next. But nothing did! Instead, finally, Matt said, a little breathlessly, "Sorry, I didn't mean to do that ... at least not right now." "Don't apologize," Christine answered him, still recovering from the kiss. And then she added, "it takes two you know ... but we better stop it or the dinner will be ruined ... and you spent a lot of money on it ... so let's behave ourselves and get back to the cooking ... playtime later." This last remark got an astonished look from Matt. "I'm going to finish this sauce, and then toss the salad," she continued, ignoring the unspoken question in his eyes, and trying to sound normal, "it needs about 10 more minutes." "That should be about right for the meat and these," Matt said, regrouping, and pointing at his pan with a pair of tongs, which he was using to gently turn over the pieces of pepper. In between turns he was un-wrapping the foil from the loaf of bread he had heated in the oven. All during the dinner, Christine flirted with Matt, making eyes at him, and making suggestive little remarks here and there that were faintly disguised come-ons. A month or so ago she would have been shocked at her behavior, but now, the lustful little tramp that was apparently hidden within her psyche had fully escaped, like a genie from a bottle, and didn't seem to know or care about any type of boundary or decorum. The old Christine looked on from afar at this display of feminine wiles, helpless. Playtime More edging because I love it so much! Such delicious torture! I really enjoyed recording this one. Listen as I edge multiple times. Follow along with me and try to make it to the end. Anyone can play along to this one...boys or girls :) If you don't make it, just come back later and try again... * * * * * Click Here to listen: .mp3 format or .ogg format. (24.5 min/mp3) * * * * * Playtime This is a brief audio when you feel like you need to play... * * * * * Click Here to listen: .mp3 format or .ogg format. (9 min/mp3) * * * * * Playtime We've played with restrains before, but not like this. Because this is a little special treat for myself, more than anything. With determined hands, I strip you of your clothes. Not even so much as grazing any part of your body with a touch other than the purposeful removal of your clothes. After stripping you down, I sit you down on the chaise lounge. Your arms get pulled back, wrapping around the backrest. I have a nice length of rope ready. Soft, luxuriously black velour. I tie your wrists together using a handcuff-knot, before looping the trailing ends around each of the legs of the chaise. I carefully check that I haven't cut of your circulation, and that the knots that withstand solid tugging without coming loose. I take of my shirt, and move around to the front of the chaise again. With your arm tied back, your shoulders and neck become more defined, and your breasts gets pressed forward. A lovely sight to behold. I pause for a second, to take it in, before I move on. I grab one of your ankles, and drape your leg over the side. When your foot reaches the floor, I slip a loop of rope onto your foot, before sending then length of it underneath the chaise, and out on the other side. Then I loop the rope around your other foot, tightening it until the rope is taut and your feet might move an inch at best. There we are. You are helpless and at my mercy. Still able to shift around a little perhaps, but you're most certainly not going anywhere. I know you're full of anticipation by now. So I sit down for a little at the foot-end of the chaise. I start by letting my hand fall on your knee. The kneecap might possibly be one of the least erotic places of the human body, but still the touch of my hand makes you tense up a little. Slowly I let it run over the top of your thigh, before I let it slip down the inside of your thigh, sliding over soft skin. I stop a full four or five inches away from even being near your pussy, but still you bite your lip a little, a small sigh of air escaping from your nose. How high are your anticipations for what is to come? I chuckle quietly to myself, before I stand up. You will need to pace yourself for what's at hand. Can't have you worked up like this from the get go. And still I have no plans of relenting just yet. I could have blindfolded you, but I rather like the next idea I've thought up instead. I pull the footstool up, half a meter in front of the chaise. Directly in front of you. Then I pull down my pants and boxers, letting my half-hard cock flop out, before sitting down to pull them of my feet along with socks. I lean back against the bookshelf behind me, the wood and the spines of the books cold against my skin and look at you, sitting there naked and tied up in front of me. Slowly I let my right hand wrap itself around my cock, and start gently squeezing and tugging at it, feeling it hardening in my hand. I look at you, but your eyes are locked at my hand and my cock. I smile, while I wriggle my shoulders, leaning back comfortably, stroking my own cock. I spread my legs a little, and let my left hand cup my balls in the palm of my hand, playing with them. Slowly I stroke my balls, while simultaneously letting my hand keep slipping up and down the shaft of my cock. You seem almost hypnotized, while your tongue unconsciously lick your lips hungrily. With your legs tied apart and spread, I can see how your pussy is already moist. I definitely have a plan to utilize that, and quite soon. But first I need to have the edge taken off of me, so that I can give you the treatment you want without getting too eager and ending it too soon. So I stand up, hand still stroking at my cock, and walk the couple of paces over to you. Standing at the side of the chaise lounge, I arch my hips forward, so that the tip of my cock is just within reach of your mouth. I make sure that you just manage to wrap your lips around the head of my cock, and nothing more. You try your best to suck, and to let your tongue play over me. Whenever you try to wriggle your upper body so that you get better access to my cock, I pull my hips away, so just the tip of it remains inside of your mouth, until you get the idea. When you finally start behaving and play nice, I can give you a bit more of what you want. I start moving my hips back and forth a little. You quickly catch on, and start moving your head in pace. At a delightfully slow pace, I start fucking your mouth ever so gently. Lovely, soft, wet and warm, your mouth slides over the head of my cock, and up and down the upper shaft of my cock. After enjoying myself for a little while, I put a hand on your cheek, guiding your head away from my cock. Instead, I straddle over the chaise lounge, stepping on the frame of it. Holding my cock up against my stomach, I use my other hand to once again gently steer your head, guiding it until your mouth is at my balls. I let your tongue play freely for a little while, feeling so goddamn good, before I start steering you again, guiding your mouth until it rests at the oh-so-sensitive patch of skin right the very bottom of my balls. I moan deeply as your tongue starts gently playing over it all, press my body closer to you, wrap my hand around your neck, and keep you just in place to keep teasing exactly that spot. I let my hand stroke my cock while you lick me, bringing myself closer to the edge. When I feel I'm getting close, I pull away just far enough to get my cock down into your mouth. I keep stroking the shaft of it myself, while your tongue plays over the head of it. As my breath grows more and more clipped, and as I stroke my cock more feverishly, I tell you to suck on the head, and to keep sucking. It doesn't take long before warm cum splashes into your mouth. I grunt as my knees give out a little, my cock slipping out of your mouth, trailing a bit of sperm that ends up on your chin. My cock still pumping out a little bit more that ends up dripping on your breasts. I smile as I look down on the mess I've created. I wipe your chin with my finger, and let you lick it clean. Now that that has been taken care of, I can get to the second phase. I start by pulling out a dildo. Nice black little silicone thing, just to match the ropes you're tied up with. The buzz is low and soft as I turn it on, leaving it at the lowest setting. Your pussy is soaking wet, letting it slip into you with ease. Your ghasp is quite sharp as it is driven deep into your pussy. I spend a bit of time fucking you gently with the toy, listening to you moan, watching how the juices from your pussy makes it glisten. I take care to leave your clit completely untouched for now, just for the hell of it. It is just the inside of your pussy that will get any treatment at the moment. And then comes the part I have been looking forward to. Three quick presses of the button at the end shifts the dildo from a nice, even buzz, to a rhythmic pulsing mode. I then jam it up to the heaviest vibrating it is capable of, before I push it deep into you. I leave it, paying close attention to whether it starts slipping out or not. It seems to stay more or less in place inside of you, although your hips are already buckling a little. I stand up, and go over to the footstool again, sitting down, watching you. The dildo left stuck up inside of your pussy, pulsating madly. Not even touching you at the moment, just watching. I can see pleasure wash across your face as the rhythmic buzzing toy plunged into your pussy does it's work. You squirm a little, arch your back, I can see from your shoulders working that you're tugging against the ropes binding your wrists. Your ghasps grow more intense, shorter, closer together. Once again my cock is hardening from the sight and the sound of your pleasure. The dildo slips a little inside you, possibly from your squirming. That just makes it strike a new spot for now, and new waves of pleasure wash across your face. You moan, you bite your lips, you lay your head back, you close your eyes. But that's really all you can do. A little more squirming makes the dildo shift again, slipping a bit more, so I have to get up, walk over, and shove it into you again, before I go back to my footstool again. I can't help but start stroking my cock a little again as I watch you, tied up and with an angry little buzzing toy rhythmically massaging the depths of your pussy. "Look at me!" I say. You struggle a bit, but manage to get your head up, and to focus on me. "Look at my eyes!" I say as your gaze slips down to my cock again. You obey, but concentrating seems hard. Your eyes are half glazed over, and you're biting your lip, emitting a soft little whine almost. I smile, lick my lips, enjoying the sight. You are begin driven towards the edge, and there's nothing you can do to stop it. I can hear your breath growing shorter and shorter. I know that any second now, there will be a sharp inhale, and a pause. But there is something I know I can do to make it even worse. Because I know that the sound of my voice, and my commands, will drive you even madder. "I want you to come for me. Hard." Your head arches backwards. Your shoulders shake, then tremors play through your entire body, as you orgasm. You try to squirm and twist your lower body, slightly uncontrolled, but the ropes keep you in place where you are supposed to be. I stand up, and walk over as the tremors of the first orgasm seems to be subsiding. The dildo has ended up slipping out of you from the squirming. I grab it, lean down, and murmur into your ear "Good girl..." before shoving the dildo back into you, and with a slightly harder voice commanding you. "Again!" After the second orgasm fades, I let you catch your breath a little. I untie you ankles, letting you move your legs to get some circulation back into them. Your pussy is so tender, it's probably not the best of ideas, but nevertheless you do it, your breath catching a little in your throat as you move. I kneel behind the back of the chaise lounge, untying the ropes from the legs, and letting one of the loops slip off your wrist so that you can get your arms free. Once they're clear of the backrest of the chaise, I slip the loop back on your wrist again, and tie them tightly together. I wrap the extra length around your wrists and up your lower arm to keep them out of the way. Then I grab you by your midriff, and guide you up from the chaise. Your knees are wobbly, so I wont keep you standing for long. Instead I throw a pillow on the floor for you, and guide you down to your knees. A chance for your body to recover a little, a chance for blood to flow somewhat freely, and a chance to get a bit more playtime. I stand in front of you, and let my cock hang freely for you to suck on. Without the use of your hands, you need your tongue and your lips to guide it into your mouth. The sight of you kneeling before me, your arms behind your back is as much of a turn-on as the actual playing your mouth does. But I don't let you play for long. This is just a little intermezzo for your to recover, and for my cock to get sucked on a little. Once I feel your body has had enough time to recover, I guide you into the bedroom next. I have trouble making up my mind for what I want first, but end up laying down on the bed. "Mount me. Facing away." You oblige, still a little unsteadily you climb into bed, and on top of my body. I use my hand to guide my cock into your pussy, and you eagerly slide down on it. I watch how your ass starts bobbing up and down as you ride me, the shaft of my cock visible in between your legs as you are at your highest, and then sinking deep into you as you thrust down on top of me. I grab the rope tying your wrists together, and pull you back, making you lean on my chest. My other hand grabs your hair, pulling your head back. I start counter-thrusting against your. "You know what I have planned next?" You only moan as a reply. "After I feel that I have fucked your pussy well enough, I'm going to fuck your ass instead." Another moan. "And I think you are going to enjoy that almost as much as me." I pull and twist at your hair, while I let an arm slip around you. I keep thrusting my cock into you as one of my hands finds a breasts, cups it eagerly, fingers seeking out a nipple, pinching it, rolling it between my fingers. "Actually, I think I want to that right now." I push you forward, and tell you to hold still, while I grab a bottle of lube waiting on the nightstand. I grease up my middle finger with a generous amount of lube. With you mounting me like this, I have easy access to your ass, just as I had planned. So my finger can easily slip into your ass, while you try to hold still, my cock still inside of your pussy. Once I am able to get my middle finger into you, I let my index finger join in as well. Slowly I press them in, until your spintcher relaxes enough to allow two of my fingers to play with your asshole. By now, the groundwork should be done, so I pull my cock out of you. A little more lube, just to be on the safe side, and then I use my hand to try and guide it into your ass. The beginning is always the hardest part. But gently I manage to get the glistening slippery head of my cock to slip into your ass, until your spintcher is clamping around the shaft of my cock instead. I pause a little, to let you get accustomed to the feeling, before place my hands on your hips and guide you to move a little. Carefully at first, small and slow thrusts, you riding me, letting your ass slip up and down on the top few inches of my cock. Then I steer your hips in one long resolute motion. It takes me maybe all of five seconds to go through the motion of the thrust, while my cock slips into you. You give of something in between a moan and a yelp, but you do stop me. Not until you have slipped properly down the length of my shaft. Then you pause again, in order to get accustomed to the feeling of the entire length of my cock inside of your ass. Eventually you manage to get properly relaxed, and you ass starts bobbing up and down again, and you start riding me properly with your ass. You eagerly do all the work, so I am left balling the bedsheets in my fists, as I watch you. Words cannot do the visual proper justice. Your hands still tied behind your back, only leaving you able to grab your own butts and pull your cheeks apart. So I have a full view of the shaft of my cock slipping in and out of your ass as you ride me. In the end, I ask you to stop, and to get off of me. One more thing left to do. I get you to lie at the edge of the bed, your ass right at the edge. Then I lift your legs, resting your calves against my chest. This time it is a lot easier for me to get my cock into your ass, and you moan deeply as it slides into you. I start thrusting my hips, harder and harder. Ramming my cock into your ass again and again. Your clit has remained untouched since we started. Now it is time for it to get it's share of attention. So I work my hands in between my body and your legs. Two fingers slip into your pussy, which must be tender as hell by now from what it has been through, my other hand finds your clit, and frantically starts rubbing it. You are lost in seconds. It is all too much I guess, with a cock in your ass, my fingers plunged into your pussy, and your clit getting rubbed all at once. You moan, you toss and you turn. I believe I make you orgasm. Possibly more than once. I have no idea. You are not doing anything but moaning and yelping at the moment. Finally I feel my second climax building. So I pull my cock out, and furiously starts stroking it, until I shoot a load of warm cum over your body. My vision goes a bit dark. My knees go weak. I manage to twist myself to the side, and slump down on the bed. In a minute I will until you, and give you a chance to clean yourself up. But for now I need to just lie here for a second, getting my breath back.