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Finals

By: SlyKitten



I was surrounded by thick books; my final analysis still incomplete. I had a tremendous headache and only four days to go until the end of the semester.

My eyes were sore from reading my notes, and erasing the multiple and erroneous theories I was typing on my desktop. With a desperate sigh, I took off my dark rimmed reading glasses and rubbed my forehead.

"Fuck...fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck..." I whispered between my teeth. I despised my stubborn ego. I had refused to see my professor during his office hours, thinking I would eventually be able to get past the utter attraction I felt for him and actually be able to understand what he was saying instead of letting my thoughts wander on how his moans would sound if I were to please him.

Stupid pride, making me want him to think of myself as a brilliant student in no need of additional explanations; an A student with no effort. Damn! Now I was in way over my head with this final paper. Yeah sure, all semester I've been handing in A work even though I thought every paper I handed in was worthless... but still, I couldn't back up any of my theories on that final.

1 AM. Ugh! Where was Melanie anyway? She should have been home an hour ago... The phone startled me and I nonchalantly answered it, "Hello?" 

"Alex? Thank God you're still up! I won't be coming home tonight, k? I'm staying at Dom's... don't tell Mom, k?" Melanie said without taking a breath. She always seemed in such a hurry.

"Sure Melan. Have fun," I replied.

"You ok Sis?" she asked. I could hear her chew that piece of gum she perpetually had in her mouth.

"I'm fine. Just some final paper I can't finish... Don't worry," I said.

She almost laughed at me, "Well, you're the one who wanted to get into people's head for a living! You should have gone to the conservatory like I did. No banging my head on the wall to hand in final papers for me!"

'And good thing Mom teaches at the conservatory or you wouldn't have gotten in!' I almost snarled. But I was tired. She didn't deserve to be reminded of her poor artistic skills. Instead I just repeated, "Have fun."

She giggled and hung up. I hesitated before putting down the receiver. Should I call Anthony? Or Ralph? Or Mustafa?

I put down the receiver with a sigh. I wasn't going to be very good company tonight so I decided against calling anyone. I just thought I'd ease the end of semester pressure by taking a warm bath and maybe watch a 'leave your brain at the door' movie.

I saved the little work I had done and shut down my computer. I stood and stretched my arms behind my head; my chest jutted forward. That stretch always felt good. I stretched my neck, right then left. I pushed my hands towards the ceiling and stretched my neck back. I don't care if they say it's not good to stretch your neck back. It feels good.

I walked to the bathroom and ran myself a bath. I used a Wicked bath melt from Lush. Amazing little bath product leaving a glittery veil of jasmine silk all over your body!

I brushed my teeth as the bath filled up, trying hard not to think about this final assignment I had to work on; trying even harder not to fantasize about the professor who gave that assignment.

I let my pink robe slide off my body and stepped into the bath. I leaned back and closed my eyes, relaxing as I felt the warm water wrap me like a blanket. My nipples tingled as the ambient air felt cooler than it really was.

I sighed and absentmindedly caressed my breasts. They felt taut under my hand. Incapable of clearing my mind as images of my sexy professor kept popping in uninvited. Yet they were always welcomed...

I sighed again, as my fingers traced my right areola. I opened my eyes and looked down at my full breasts, floating a little. My pink nipples stood straight up on top of them, hard and long.

My pussy started to be in need of attention. I giggled as I slowly let my hand wander on my flat belly. "I must be crazy, tickling myself!" I thought as my ticklish tummy had tiny spasms under my feathery touch.

My pussy wasn't neatly waxed, as it usually was. For some reason I had wanted to let the hairs grow back. But it had been itching a lot lately so I decided to shave. I stepped out of the bath to grab a new razor along with my sister's orange-blossom scented shaving cream.

I pulled the cork and the milky bath water went down the drain. The shaving cream was a bit chilly when I applied it on my dirty blond pussy hair, my right foot on the edge of the bath.

I had never shaved my pussy before. I always went to a spa to get a Brazilian or a full wax, so I was a bit nervous when I carefully started to shave the delicate skin on my groin. The white shaving cream disappeared as the blade closely shaved my skin.

I felt my clit swell. I chuckled. "Is there something that doesn't excite you?" I asked myself.

Slowly, I continued shaving my labia, exposing a little more hairless skin with each gentle stroke. I avoided shaving a little patch of hair; a small landing strip pointing to where I needed to be touched.

I bent forward a little to allow the razor better access to the area around my anus. I usually got that part waxed as well, so it was only logical that I shaved it while I was shaving my pussy.

The skin there didn't seem as fragile as I slid the razor from my slit to my asshole. It even felt good. I moaned as I felt the sharp blade close to my puckered anus. With one final stroke I had a freshly shaven pussy.

I used the showerhead to rinse the whole area, maybe overzealously. I was gasping and moaning as the water ran on my pussy lips; on my slit; on my clit.

"I wonder if he ever jerks off in the shower... thinking of me?... I'm so self-centered! As if he would even think of one of his students that way!" I dismissed the thought as I stopped the water flow.

I didn't even bother to put my robe on before I went into my bedroom. I lit a couple of candles and opened my toy drawer. Clothespins? Nah. Clamps? Better. Butt plug? Hmm... Not tonight. Vibrator? Definitely.

I lay my toys side by side on the bed, debating whether I'd use lube, spit, or my own juices. I massaged my breasts looking at my toys neatly displayed, feeling my nipples get harder.

I opted for spit and grabbed a candle. The wax was liquid, ready to use. I gasped in anticipation and leaned back on my pillows, spreading my thighs a little.

I admired my handiwork with the razor. I looked down at my pussy and decided to do something I usually didn't do; I dropped some melted wax on my belly and on my pussy.

The wax was hot as it dripped on my lips and all around my clit. It burned just a little. As I waited for the wax to set, I let out noisy sighs. My nipples got even harder. I rolled one between the fingers of my available hand.

The setting wax encased my clit in a tight, warm shell. I couldn't help but imagine my professor's mouth there. The thought aroused me, as thinking about him usually did.

I wondered what kinks he had, if any. Was he into light pain, as I was? Was he into lingerie? Was he a perverted voyeur?

I imagined him sitting in his big leather chair, scrutinizing me, looking at me pleasuring myself as I dripped melted wax on my left breast. I moaned and ground my teeth, watching the red wax drip down my tit.

I traced a circle around my nipple before dripping some wax directly on it. I know some women can't handle that, but I enjoy that slight burning sensation. Call me a masochist; it's what I am, after all.

I waited for the wax to set, seeing it take the shape of my erect nipple. I put down the candle and freed my clit from its wax shell.

I was so excited I had almost forgotten all about the paper I had yet to finish. My professor's stern voice still echoed in my ears. I was putting words in his mouth he never spoke in front of me, "Ms. Moreau, your work has been disappointing lately... maybe we need to have a little talk..." 

I applied a clamp on my right nipple. I allowed myself to moan; my sister wasn't home to hear me.

Fantasies are so much fun; you can fast forward the boring parts and get to the interesting stuff right away! My sexy professor went from lecturing in front of the class to masturbating in front of an embarrassed me.

"Ms. Moreau, you did this to me," he was saying as he slowly stroked his cock up and down, his voice almost as stern as when he was lecturing.

I slid a finger along my slit. It was burning, wet, and slippery. "Don't you think you ought to take care of this," he was suggesting, pointing at his thick cock.

I brought my finger to my mouth and sucked it clean. "Now, Ms. Moreau," he was ordering.

I grabbed my vibrator and started licking it, as if it were Professor Cowen's dick. "Oohh Ms. Moreau, how can a sweet young thing like you suck a cock like a whore?"

I quickly put the head of my vibrator at the entrance of my pussy, smearing my juices. I tilted my hips up and slowly slipped the vibrator deep in my tight pussy, moaning as loud as I pleased.

I fucked my pussy deep and hard, imagining my professor's cock inside me. "You've been wanting this for a long time, haven't you?" he was asking me.

I reached over to my toy drawer and fumbled to find my butt plug. "Fuck where IS that thing?!?" I asked out loud, touching metal, silk, leather, but no latex. Finally I caught my plug and immediately brought it to my mouth to suck on it, the fat vibrator still deep in my cunt.

I reached between my thighs and popped the plug in my tight asshole. "Yes, just as I suspected, a filthy slut disguised as an angel," Professor Cowen was saying.

I fucked both my holes, my cute professor grunting above me. "That young cunt needs to be fucked hard..." he was saying.

"If I ever hear those words coming out of his mouth, I'll cum just from hearing him!" I thought.

I was pushing my dildo deep inside my pussy, the plug as deep as it would go, "Maybe it's time for a bigger plug?"

I brought the head of the dildo on my clit and left it there, the rotating head barely touching me. I felt my orgasm start in my toes and tingle all over my body before settling in my clit and finally exploding, giving me those wonderful shivers of ecstasy.

I held the plug as my ass clenched around it. I wished I could feel my professor's cock in my pussy right that moment. Any cock, for that matter...

I quickly removed the head of my vibrator from my clit as soon as my orgasm stopped. I slowly slipped the plug out of my tight ass. My right nipple was throbbing under the clamp. When I freed it, it throbbed a little more. I giggled and applied a little pressure on it. I ripped off the hardened wax from my left nipple and breast and with a relieved sigh.

I was way too lost in ecstatic bliss to even get out of bed. I just slipped under the sheets and enjoyed the aftershock of my climax, out of breath and sated.

Final's Week



Amy sighed defeatedly. The rush of her breath echoed down the aisles and through the stacks. Exhausted she rubbed her eyes and checked her watch; midnight. The library would close in an hour. It was ridiculous that they opened the library so late during finals week, as if they expected that you would never be able to get your work done within normal hours. How long had it been since she'd last had a good night's rest? She couldn't remember. How she just wanted to go to bed. This place was creepy; cool, shadowy, the stacks stretching on and on, a seeming labyrinth of books. Why did they put the literary criticism in the farthest corner of the basement? She could be murdered here and no one would find her for weeks. A band of tension fastened itself across her temples as she scanned the rows of bindings searching for the titles that would complete her endless research. Amy was so absorbed in finishing her task that she didn't notice the man approaching.

"Having trouble, Ms. Price?"

Amy screamed, dropping the stack of books she carried. 

"Oh, Professor Jacobs! I didn't notice you there. God, I am so sorry." Kneeling down to collect her books, she tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and hoped wasn't blushing uncontrollably. Her heart was racing. Professor Jacobs was a brilliant lecturer; an esteemed academic and expert of Shakespeare. Even since her very first class, she had been unbelievably attracted to him, with his slightly graying brown hair, and piercing blue eyes. He had a slow sexy smile that had been known to make her squirm in her chair during lectures. 

"It's fine Amy, but you're here awfully late. I hope you aren't having trouble with anything." Amy glanced at the pile of books she awkwardly clutched, and all erotic thoughts were banished as she gloomily returned to the task at hand. 

"Actually, it's your paper I am working on. I just can't seem to organize my thoughts on the sexual symbolisms in Shakespeare's sonnets." Tears of frustration crept into the corners of her eyes. It was her first semester and she wanted so desperately to do well. 

"Now, now Amy," he said, laying his hand on her shoulder "I am sure I can help you clarify your thinking." He voice held a vaguely teasing note. As she looked into his eyes questioningly, his hand began to massage her shoulder. His blue eyes seemed to pin her to the spot. What was happening here? She wasn't sure, but she felt her body relax toward him as his fingers worked away some of the tension in her shoulder. It seemed almost in slow motion that he brought his other hand to her face, his fingertips grazing her cheekbone, skimming her lips, and tracing lightly down, over her throat, her collarbone, the tips of his fingers like feathers in the valley between her breasts, over the top of her breast, over her nipple which began to protrude through her form-fitting white tee-shirt. She felt her body temperature jump, her insides beginning to melt as he slid his hand firmly around her waist, his fingers splayed across her back, almost as if they were slow dancing. He led her gently to the end of the aisle. A small gasp escaped her lips and her rear softly bumped the wall. His stare did not waiver as his hand slid from her shoulder caressing the outer side of her breast and down the outside of her smooth, firm thighs, tickling across her knee, and back up her inner leg. His fingers maneuvered inside the hem of her denim skirt. He nudged the warm damp patch of her panties with his knuckle, the metal of his wedding band teasingly cool against her skin.

"Would you like my help, Amy?" She stared back into his penetrating gaze, her eyes wide, slightly afraid. She felt the ground swimming beneath her. Her skin seemed to be on fire. She felt the room spin slightly. So distracted by the warm fluid feelings circling and swirling between her legs, she felt almost unable to respond. His knuckle ground ever so slightly against her swollen clit and she felt her knees begin to buckle, the pressure of his hand on her pussy intensifying beneath her. He brought his knee between her legs to steady her.

"Amy, would you like my help?" he repeated. Amy found her breath had become labored. She was unable to stop herself from staring at his mouth, his lips, the white of his teeth. The tip of her tongue protruded without her knowing it, wetting her own lips in anticipation. Her back arched slightly bringing her breasts closer to his chest; her legs seemed to part ever so slightly of their own will, but even as she advanced, he retreated ever so gently from her.

"Amy," he said "I've asked you a question." His eyes seemed to bore into her. She felt her head fall back against the cool stone of the wall. "Would you like my help?" She felt her voice rising in her throat, as her chest rose with her breath.

"Yes, Professor," she whispered huskily, her mind unsure of where the words had come from. "Please help me." Her hands wound themselves around his neck, feeling the heat of his skin through the starched crispness of his shirt, working her fingers under the band of his tie, pulling him toward her. His face neared hers achingly slowly. She closed her eyes as she felt the heat of his breath on her lips, and whimpered almost inaudibly as she felt that warmth descend over her chin to the base of her neck. The warmth of his lips on her skin sent shivers up and down her spine. One hand gripped her thigh, pulling the leg closer to him, while the other played lightly across her erect nipple. Her hands wove themselves into his hair and his lips met hers, his tongue teasingly entering her mouth, she felt her pussy throbbing with desire. One of her hands slid down his back, pulling his shirt from his trousers, her fingers exploring the warmth of his back, pulling him closer to her, feeling the hardness of his erect cock come into contact with her pussy. 

He pulled her gently away from her. His gaze traveled from her face to her body, and he began, slowly, to lift the hem of the tee-shirt over her head. The chill in the air teased her erect nipples even more. His deft fingers unbuttoned her skirt, leaving it in a puddle of the floor. His gaze seemed to burn over her skin as he surveyed her form, clad only in her creamy bra and panties. Greedily she tugged at his loosened tie, and began to fumble with his shirt, pulling it open with such ferocity she nearly popped a button. He smiled, his slow sexy smile igniting a sudden rush of heat in her already sopping pussy. Unbuttoning his trousers, pulling them down his boxers she dropped to her knees. Never in her life had she ever wanted, much less wanted so much to suck a man's cock. As her hands slid back up his legs, she stared at his erect cock with wonder, so hot and hard between her hands. She looked up at him to find him gazing down at her patiently, expectantly. She ran her tongue firmly up the shaft, enjoying the texture of his skin. Running the tip of her tongue in quick circles around the head before gently encircling it with her lips, her tongue continuing to work along the groove. 

Her fingers tickled his balls gently, and his head fell back as he moaned quietly. Grasping his ass in one hand she pulled him deeper into her mouth, feeling the head of his cock deep in her mouth, pulling him in and out, moaning herself as she tasted his salty pre-cum. Feeling his hands in her hair she looked up and met his hungry gaze as he stared down at her. Without a word he pulled her up roughly. Pressing her against the wall, he kissed her deeply, his tongue exploring every crevice of her mouth. Her body ached with desire. Her long-distance boyfriend had managed to bring her to a few brief clenched orgasms, but now her body seemed to hum, begging to be touched. Her bra was off without her realizing it, his fingers massaging her breast, tweaking her nipple. His mouth soon followed and she let out a moan as his tongue swirled over her tit. As he sucked on her breast, his hands freed her from her damp panties. He slid his finger inside her slowly, she moaned loudly, grinding her pussy against his hand wanting to feel him inside her deeper and harder. 

"Oh please, Professor Jacobs," she whispered, her body shaking.

"Please, what, Amy?"

"Please, Professor," she whispered with greater intensity.

"Yes, Amy. Tell me what you want"

"Please. Professor, please. Please fuck me, please. I need to feel you inside me." Again he grinned, the white of his teeth expanding the heat from between her legs, enflaming the entirety of her thighs. She felt the hot throbbing head of his cock against the warm lips of her pussy. She arched her back toward him, already enjoying the feeling of him just pressed against her hot dripping opening. He entered her slowly, her back arching further with every exquisite inch. Her legs wrapped around him, she was totally at his mercy as he slowly thrust deep inside her, one of his hands squeezing her ass, the other her breast. He took his time, ensuring that every time she had the pleasure of feeling the head of his cock part her swollen pussy lips. With every thrust she felt the base of his cock firmly on her clit. She began to moan louder, begging him for more – oh god, professor. Oh yes. Please, more. I want you. Fuck me professor, please. His rhythmic thrusting increased, sending her eyes rolling back in her head, her fingers clawing desperately at his back.

As his hot, throbbing cock pumped deeper inside her, harder against her, she felt her pussy begin to spasm and clench around him. His thrusts came faster and faster, harder and harder. Warm sensations rolling through her body, she felt herself lose control. Her breasts hummed, her tits seemed to vibrate, her entire body gave way to the wave of pleasure crashing over her again and again as he fucked her ruthlessly. She felt her hot juices flood inside her as her moans echoed through the stacks as she came. Only slightly beyond the peak of her orgasm she heard him groan as his hands tightened on her body, and felt his hot cum shoot inside her, sending another wave of pleasure through her body. After a few moments, he slowly lowered her to the floor, and pulled his clothes back on. 

"I wouldn't worry about your paper, Ms. Price. I think you have adequately demonstrated your understanding of the sexual symbolism here."

"Thank you Professor Jacobs." Amy smiled to herself, thrilled that she had decided to sign up for his advanced Shakespeare class next term.



Finals Week



It was finals week and my boyfriend and I decided it would probably be best to focus on our academic pursuits rather than distracting each other, so we vowed not to see each other for the entire week!

However, five days later I was beginning to think our plan was a bad idea. At any rate, I knew neither one of us had a test the next day, so I decided there would be no harm in paying him a little surprise visit.

I let myself into his apartment and was met with a wave of disappointment because no one seemed to be there. The bedroom door was closed, but I thought it was very unlikely he would be taking a nap at 10 in the morning. Nevertheless, I decided to peek inside.

There he was, sitting on the edge of the bed with a full-blown erection. He was straddling a towel that had been carefully spread out on the floor in front of him. It didn't take a genius to figure out what was going on.

He shot me a look that said, "I can't believe you caught me in this incredibly embarrassing position, but I'm way beyond the point of no return, so I'm going to finish what I started and worry about the consequences later."

His thumb and forefinger, which was encircling his penis, resumed their back and forth motion across the area just below his glans. After 15 or 20 strokes (perhaps all of 10 seconds) his eyes closed, his face scrunched up into a grimace, and his penis erupted.

The first stream reached well beyond the towel and landed on the carpet. The second was just as intense, if not more so, and was followed by three or more smaller spurts that finally subsided to a gentle flow that dribbled down his hand as he milked himself dry. After a few moments, he used his fingers to squeegee off the remaining semen, leaving his softening erection damp, but relatively clean.

When he had regained a small measure of composure, he looked and me and I could tell he was about to offer an explanation. I quickly shushed him by putting a finger over my mouth.

Instead, I took his gooey hand in mine and looked directly into his eyes. The semen between my fingers felt slippery and warm. I brought them to my nose and inhaled the musty fragrance deep into my lungs. The salty-sweet taste pushed me over the brink. 

I had no control over what happened next. I tore off my clothes and sat cross-legged on the floor before him. I gathered as much of his splattered semen as I could and massaged it into my small, pointed breasts. My nipples were already at the bursting point and my vagina was so wet that its scent permeated the room. This was not the time for foreplay -- I needed an orgasm and I needed it right now! I thrust two fingers deep into myself while firmly rubbing my clitoris with the other hand. My fingers pistoned in and out forcefully as I began to feel the wonderful tingling that would culminate in the relief I needed so badly. It started in my hands and feet and gained intensity as it spread throughout my body. The orgasm hit like an explosion, but I knew it was just the beginning. I continued to pump away as wave after wave of pleasure commandeered me. Finally, the orgasms subsided and I collapsed on the floor, breathless, covered with sweat and completely spent.

Somehow I managed to get into bed next to my boyfriend. We lay completely still, just holding each other close in one of the most intimate embraces I have ever known. We both knew we had experienced something profound, and relished the opportunity to savor it together.

After a long time, I decided to see if we could take further advantage of our intimacy. 

"That was the most erotic experience I have ever had," I whispered. "How often do you masturbate?"

He immediately sensed where I was headed.

"Oh, it was just about every day when I was a teenager, but now I suppose it's two or three times a week."

"Tell me about the first time you did it."

"It was in the bathtub. I don't remember exactly how old I was. I had already engaged in some erotic behavior, but it centered around my anus. We had an old-fashioned enema can and I would insert the nozzles into myself because I liked the way they felt. Sometimes I would even give myself a soapy enema if my parents were gone for the evening. However, as I got older, I developed the sense that I should be more interested in my penis. I had read books about sexual development, but I never really connected them to myself. At any rate, one day I decided to do a little experiment. I soaped up the palm of my hand and began to rub it in a circular motion on the tip of my penis -- not the very tip, but on the side. The sensation was one of pain mixed with pleasure, but I kept going. All of the sudden, WHAM, there was my first ejaculation. I remember thinking 'oh my goodness, it's a seminal emission" -- that's what the books called it. I guess you could say my little experiment was a success. My penis was elevated to rock star status. It didn't take long to figure out that it felt much better if I soaped up both hands and slid them down the length of my shaft, one after the other, paying special attention to the ring just under the head as they slithered by. I masturbated that way for years until I discovered that the one handed method you just saw enabled me to provide more intense stimulation to that most sensitive area. I still do it both ways, though."       

"What do you think about when you do it?"

"You won't believe this, but my most compelling fantasy is what just occurred. Getting caught in the act by a beautiful woman and ejaculating forcefully while she watches. I can't describe how much such thoughts excite me. What about you?"

"This is really spooky. I'm hooked on male masturbation. It's what I think about almost every time. I can't fathom anything more erotic than a may playing with himself and shooting all over the place. Pretending that he is doing it for me makes it even more exciting because it's like the guy is willing to share the most private and personal thing he can do."

All this talk was getting me turned on again. I wondered if it was having the same effect on my boyfriend, so I took a little peek under the sheets. Sure enough, he was sporting a beautiful erection.

I rolled him over and gently caressed his testicles. Something that I know makes him crazy. Then I encircled his penis with my thumb and forefinger and began rubbing up and down -- just below the tip as he had done. His soft moan was all the encouragement I needed.

I straddled his body and gently guided his erection into my vagina. I could feel my muscles contract around him.

"Masturbation is fine," I whispered, "but sometimes, a girl needs something more substantial."

His engulfed penis slid in and out, slowly, gently. We both reveled in the intimacy we were experiencing. And then I felt the unmistakable sensation of semen, tickling my cervix as it squirted out. I couldn't believe he had anything left to ejaculate, but I was so very glad he did. The combination of his erect penis and fresh semen filled me with the greatest sense of well-being that I had ever experienced.

We both knew that our relationship would never be the same.



Finals Week



It's finals week of college. My students are all taking their seats for a transpersonal psychology final essay. I set up the projection screen in the auditorium and put up a timer. I take a seat in the production booth, set up my laptop, and use it as an office. "All students, please take your seats. We will be starting the exam in the next 5 minutes. You just need simple notebook paper and a pencil." Everyone gets seated, and I start the timer. 15 minutes into the exam, one of my students walk into the auditorium. Bewildered, she looks for me and sees me in the production booth. She comes up to the window and knocks.

I open the door to see what she wants. Before I can ask, she steps into the booth. The door closes behind her. "You know, I can talk to you outside, Miss."

"I'm sorry, Professor. I can go back outside."

"No point now, why are you late today?"

"I didn't know we were having the final in the auditorium. I haven't checked my email lately."

"You have a bad habit of not showing up to my classes. Now you're late for the final."

"I'm sorry, I've been sick. I thought I emailed you."

"You did, but that doesn't excuse you after the 5th time...it's become a problem. And your grades aren't making up for your lack of attendance."

"I really just don't get this material. I grew up catholic, all of this mystical stuff just doesn't make sense to me."

I sigh. "What are we going to do about this...the final has already started. Don't you plan on writing your final?"

"I guess I should." She turns around and fumbles with her notebook. She drops it and bends over to pick it up. I can see she's wearing a thong under her skirt. She realizes she's bending over in front of me, and turn around blushing. "I'm so sorry."

"No, it's alright...maybe we can figure something out."

"...What do you mean?"

"Well, you're a young lady..."

"Oh...I'm not sure I'm comfortable with that."

"I didn't say anything...but if you wish, you should join the other students."

She thinks for a moment. She then starts to move her skirt around, and her undies fall for the ground. She picks them up, rolls them in a ball, puts them in my hand, and sits in my lap. "What would you like me to do professor?"

I reach for my laptop to close it, but miss and hit the controls in the booth. After fumbling with the keys to reset them, I close my laptop and push it aside. I start to rub one of her thighs up and down slowly. I then slowly reach under her skirt and trace my fingers towards her pubis. As I get closer, she spreads her legs. I press my fingers up against her pussy lips, and she breathes harshly. I then slide my fingers up to her clit and rub it in circles. She starts to breathe heavily. I whisper in her ear "Put me in your mouth." She gets on her knees in front of me. I spread my legs as she undoes my pants. She reaches inside and grabs my dick. She gives it a few strokes and licks it a bit to get it hard. Then, she puts it in her mouth and starts sucking it.

I reach down and start lifting her shirt. She raises your arms, dick still in her mouth, and helps me take it off. She releases my dick with a twist of her tongue and removes her shirt. She then reaches behind and unclasps her bra. As I slide her straps down, she grabs my dick again and places it back in her mouth. She starts sucking on it hard and bobs her head up and down. I lift her up and invite her to sit on me. She pulls my pants and boxers off and adjusts herself to sit on top of me. She slides my dick inside her pussy and starts to ride me.

At first, she bounces yourself up and down with her legs. Then, she starts to grind her hips into my pelvis as she moves my dick deeper inside her. She starts moaning and grabs onto me; she pulls on me and I grab her tits. I start to lick and suck on her nipples. I bite them, and then start biting her neck. I pick her up and lay her down in the booth. We start fucking on the floor. I lift her legs and start to thrust into her. She plays with her tits and moans loudly. I go deeper, harder, pounding her into the floor. She moves your hips against me and cries out every time I go too deep, but begs for more. "Faster."

I pick her up again and push her up against the back wall. I grab her hips and fuck her as fast as I can. She can't even moa; all that escapes are tiny, high-pitched whimpers of pleasure as my dick goes in and out of her. I reach around and start to rub her clit. Her legs are trembling. I can feel her pussy tightening. "I-I'm gonna cum."

I pick her up once more and bend her over the control console. I fuck her hard and deep, and she moans even louder. She can't control yourself. Her pussy starts to spasm and her legs shake. She can feel my dick engorge as I cum inside her. She can feel my hot fluids fill up her pussy. She then turns around and start to suck me off to clean my dick. That's when she notices a light flickering on the ceiling in the booth. She swallows the rest of my load and turns around. When I fumbled with the controls, I accidentally turned on the projector in the booth. The entire auditorium just saw her get fucked by the professor.



Financial Difficulties



We got into some financial difficulty a few years ago. I'd borrowed a lot and Elaine and I spent too much over one Christmas on the kids and family. And then I lost my job. It was all very difficult and, as these things do, it affected our marriage profoundly. While we kept our troubles from the kids, Ellen and I talked about little else -- driving out all playfulness, intimacy and, of course, sex from our life. For me, the whole thing was undermining, emasculating... all the clichés. I was meant to provide for the family, to take care of the money. But it was Ellen who worked, holding down a decent job, leaving me to do the housework and childcare. Over time I lost touch with my friends as I became more focussed on our home and my work in it. 

Then one day we got the call we feared most -- a secretary from the bank phoned to set an appointment with the manager, a Mr Webb, for the very next day. Ellen and I barely slept that night. We talked and talked about what we would say, how we would try to win over Mr Webb, appealing to his sympathy. In a way I was relieved. The moment of crisis had come and it was all going to be faced, taken out of our hands and dealt with, one way or another.

The next morning, I dressed in my best shirt, tie and suit. I'd not worn one in months. Ellen, who had taken the whole day off work, dressed as if she was going to seduce Mr Webb. She wore a dark grey business suit from her working days before the kids which now fitted like a second skin, bringing out her voluptuousness. Ellen left the jacket open except for one button. Her blouse gaped giving a great view of her deep, soft cleavage. The skirt ended just below the knee and clung to her hips and gorgeous big - her curvy legs looked fantastic, and you could see the ridges of her suspenders outlined against her thighs. Her feet were encased in black four-inch heels. Her calves had that beautiful athletic bulge that stilettos give and her arse and wide hips stood out high and firm. Her lips and eyes were made up to bring out her pale beauty and her light ginger hair. 

Ellen is a beautiful 40-year-old. Her big grey-blues eyes are stunning when they hit you full beam. She has a demure, almost deferential manner, most of the time. But today, my wife was dressed like the office slut. 

++++++++++

She used, before we had our three kids, to come home dressed in this sexy-working-girl way. I liked to jump her, fucking her on the floor, against the door, over the kitchen table, against the balcony window, immediately she walked in, her skirt yanked up and her panties pulled to the side or ripped off. 

My favourite memory from this time, one I masturbate to this day, is of the first time I fucked Ellen in the arse. She had just walked through the door into the dark hall. Her back was turned to me as she hung up her coat on the back of the door. I walked up to her fast, pushing her against the door. Immediately I forced her skirt up. She wasn't wearing any panties, just hold up stockings. 

"You are a slut. You're dressed for fucking?" I whispered angrily in her ear. "Are you dressed like this for me or for your lover? Or did he keep your panties as a souvenir?" 

She said nothing, just grunted as I forced three fingers into her vagina and pulled my hard cock out of my pants. She was wet, of course. I drove straight into her hard, no delicacy. She gave a little, unnecessary, scream. 

"You're all sloppy," I hissed at her. "Have you been fucking some huge-dicked man at work? Is that his cum I can feel? You are a cock-hungry slut, my love. Fucked at work and coming home for more?" 

I thrust into her, crushing her against the door, driving my excitement and my fury higher and higher at the imagined infidelity, my fantasy of her sluttishness. She arched her arse up to me. My cock came out of her as she moved and as I thrust back at her my dick was in suddenly in her arse, just the tip. I stopped briefly to see if Ellen would protest. She said nothing, and she didn't move. She just panted. So I pushed slowly all the way into her arse. I stopped, both of us getting used to the new sensation. I took hold of her hips and started fucking her slowly and deeply. 

"Do you like this bitch?" She whimpered -- never saying yes, never saying no. "Am I the first to sodomise you?" Again, no answer. "No? Is this how your lovers like to do you, fuck you in the arse like some cheap corner whore?" 

I pulled myself right out, so that only my cock head was inside Ellen. With all my weight and strength, I forced myself hard and fast into her. I wanted to hurt her, punish her. Ellen screamed, this time she meant it. I held myself deep inside her, let cock spurt and twitch. When I'd finished, I wrenched myself out of her fast, again deliberately hurting her. She gave a little yell and slowly fell to her knees, crumpling onto her side. 

He white arse was exposed and leaking cum streaked with a little blood. Her fleshy hips and arse were marked where my fingers had dug into her hard. There would be bruises. I looked at her for a few seconds, feeling powerful. I bent over, scooping up some cum that had leaked from her. I brought my fingers to her lips. She kept them shut and tried to turn away. I smeared the seamen on all over her face, scooping my mess from her leaking arse several times and soiling her face with it. I went back to the kitchen to finish my beer. 

++++++++++

That night we talked about what had happened. Ellen told me that it had felt like being raped. She admitted that it had been very exciting and that while I sat in the kitchen finishing my beer she had silently brought herself to an orgasm with fingers against her clit. 

We cuddled late into the night, talking about my fantasy of her fucking others, of how excited she got playing the slut. We fucked again, slowly and tenderly, and after I'd cum inside Ellen, she did one of her favourite sexual things -- she had me lie on my back and straddled my face. I licked her cunt clean of my sperm as she came, and came and came. 

++++++++++

That was a long time ago, ten years, and so much has changed. I am not the lover, the man, I was then. As I watched her come down the stairs my cock grew immediately hard at the overt sexiness of her clothes. Ellen looked at me and a little smile crossed her face, half hidden behind her fringe. 

"Cool it Jack. This is not for you. I want to turn Mr Webb's head. I couldn't decide whether to wear panties... but perhaps he'd be able to smell my wetness if I went bare. It's possible to be too slutty, isn't it?" 

My heart sank and my cock throbbed. I felt faint. She was enjoying this, my discomfort, and she was really enjoying playing the slut again. I was completely in her power. I wondered what she wanted from the appointment at the bank. Ellen pulled up her skirt, past the stockings to show me the wet front of her frilly black knickers. I went straight to my knees and crawled towards her. I pushed my nose and mouth into her and breathed in deeply, rubbing my nose into her groove of her lips and licking the gauzy front of her panties. Stunned, I realised she'd shaved herself absolutely clean of hair. She let me do this for a few seconds and then grabbed my hair hard in her fist. "Get off me you dirty little dog. We need to go. Can't be late for Mr Webb."

I calmed down a little as I drove to the bank. We were silent. Ellen looked straight ahead composing herself. She hadn't dressed like this for many, many months. My getting on my knees and sniffing of her cunt, like a "dirty little dog", was the only form of sexual contact we'd had in weeks. I forced myself to focus on the meeting with Mr Webb, get my mind on the task ahead. 

At the bank we were ushered into a back office and offered a tea. Mr Webb eventually swept in, a great bear of a man of about 55 years old, very tall and fat and very, very black. We both jumped up nervously. He smiled mildly at me and shook my hand, crushing it until I winced. He took E's hand and shook it slowly and gently, holding on to it far too long. He smiled at her revealing a great mouth of white teeth. He looked her up and down, scrutinising her, making no attempt to hide his admiration. 

"Ellen. You look lovely. Thank you both for coming in. Sit, sit, please." 

He finally let go of her hand, got behind his desk and opened our file. He studied it for a few seconds, and looked up at us gravely. 

"This is not a pretty sight. We have a problem here, Jack. How are we going to resolve this?" His eyes focused on me, bore into me, until I have to look away. "If I call in the loans, you are going to have to sell your home," he said gravely. Suddenly I felt like crying. I knew he was playing with me, but I felt overwhelmed and vulnerable. "But I have some... room for discretion here. I think we need to reschedule your loans and convert them into your mortgage and then look at you spending and income. This can be done, though it is going to entail a bit of sacrifice. What do you think?" 

He was staring and smiling at Ellen, shamelessly looking at her tits. She sat straight and forward in her seat. Her knees set primly together, her bunched fists resting on them. This had the effect of pressing together her tits, and pushing them at Mr Webb.

"Whatever you can do for us Mr Webb... we will be tremendously grateful, very appreciative. Won't we Jack."

"I know you will Ellen, I know you will," he said, grinning. "Did I tell you Jack, what a lucky man you are to have such a... sexy and devoted wife."

"I am devoted Mr Webb. I will do anything for my family," Ellen went on simpering.

"That's great," he laughed.

I grinned at them both, nodding like an idiot. I was in a surreal nightmare. Ellen was flirting outrageously, offering herself to him. I was being set up and I was getting hard on the humiliation of knowing exactly where this was going. Finally, I found my voice. 

"Of course, Mr Webb, we appreciate anything you can do for us. And, if we need to make a sacrifice, we will make it. We want to keep our family together, and in our home. We are desperate. Anything you can do... anything we can do..." I trailed off, realising I was begging. 

I looked over at Ellen. She smiled and reached over to pat my hand reassuringly. The rest of the meeting was a bit of blur. Mr Webb pulled out a succession of forms and talked us through them in a patronising manner. He explained it all and it all seemed to make sense. At no point did I feel that I had any option but to go along with this powerful black man who wanted my wife as his plaything. 

Ellen was at my side, holding my hand, comforting me, leading me on to do as I was being told. Mr Webb had taken us in hand and he was going to sort it all out for us -- at a price. Then he called in his secretary who took me off to a side office where I sat at a desk and tried to concentrate on the forms, signing each one, reading some, completely distracted by what might be going on in the next door office. I could hear talking but not the precise words and occasionally Ellen's best flirtatious laugh rang out. 

It took about half an hour, but finally I gathered up the pile of forms and made my way back to Mr Webb's office. I knocked on the closed door and went in. They were standing by the window looking out, their backs to the room. Ellen was laughing at a joke of Mr Webb's that I hadn't heard. His hand was on her arse, cupping it, the fingers pressing into the junction of her thighs and cheeks. As I walked in they looked over at me. Mr Webb's hand moved off Ellen's arse only very slowly, giving her a long lingering, proprietorial stroke. As she turned back into the room, Ellen clumsily buttoned up her blouse.

"All done," I said meekly. 

Finally he let go of her arse, patting it firmly. Ellen gave a little giggle. Mr Webb checked the forms, we thanked him profusely, said our goodbyes and were ushered out of the bank into the bright day.

On the way home we were silent for part of the journey, each deep in thought. "Ellen, he was touching you on the arse," I said sullenly. "Why did you let him do that? Your blouse was undone. What happened?" 

This was such a stupid question, and I knew it, but I had to ask. I felt I was in a dream, automatically playing my role of the jealous husband about to be cuckolded. 

"Oh Jack, what a child you are," Ellen said, laughing gently. "Mr Webb felt my tits up too. My nipples are still hard and I am soaking between the legs. Here feel this." 

She grabbed a hand off the steering wheel and pulled it under her skirt and against her cunt. She was very wet against her panties. I yanked my hand away in anger. 

"He showed me his huge cock and I touched it. He asked me out for a date. Tonight, we're going for dinner. I didn't feel able to say no and I didn't want to. Remember the 'sacrifice' you were so willing to make. That's me. And to tell you the truth, I'm looking forward to it." 

"You can't go out with him," I shouted back. "He will want to... to... to fuck you. He's big and ugly and fat and smug and old and black. He'll turn you into his slut." 

"Don't be racist. Of course he wants to fuck me. He wants his reward. We got into this situation and he has offered us a way out. That's the deal. Live with it. And maybe I want to be a slut for him. Maybe I want a little of that huge cock. God knows, I'm not getting any elsewhere." 

I looked at her in shock. She turned on me, her eyes flashing in cold anger. 

"Don't play the innocent with me. I am the one whoring myself to keep our home and family together. You have forfeited your rights as the man of the house. You can't provide for us and you have not been able to satisfy me for some time. I need a proper man to take care of me properly." 

By the time we parked the car out the front of our house I was exhausted and near tears. Ellen softened. 

"It's ok baby. It's going to be fine. Let's go inside." 

I burst into tears as she led me into the house by the hand. Ellen sat me in the sitting room in the big armchair and took charge. She called her mum and asked her to pick the kids up from school, keep them for the night and take them swimming the next morning, a Saturday. She explained that she and I needed some time together. 

After she hung up and walked up to me briskly, stooped slightly and slapped me hard on the cheek. 

"Stop that snivelling you useless little wimp." 

I was shocked by her sudden violence and tried desperately to stop myself bursting into tears again. My cheek burnt hot and the sound of the slap rang in my ears. I stopped crying, but must still have looked pitiful to her. She was, of course, superb, imperious and overwhelming. 

Ellen stood there close and looming over me, her hands on hips and her feet planted apart. She opened her jacket, took it off and dropped it on the carpet. She undid her blouse and let it fall open. Her magnificent chest was now exposed, encased in her bra. She discarded the blouse, undid her skirt and let it fall to the floor showing me her full beauty in underwear, suspenders and stockings. She drew up a dinning chair and sat back, spreading her legs lewdly. She put a hand to the soaked front of her panties, cupped her cunt and started rubbing gently through the material. She was breathing hard and deep, not looking at me but off to the side. She had a dreamy hooded look, perhaps thinking of Mr Webb and his "huge" cock. Her other hand rose to the front fastening of her bra and opened it. Her tits tumbled out heavily and she began to stroke her nipples. 

"Listen baby. I know your dirty little secret. I have seen you in my lingerie. I came home early last Wednesday, and saw you on the bed in my panties and stockings." 

I couldn't look her in the eye. I felt trapped again and suddenly panic and a deep dread ran through me. I thought she was going to throw me out. I would be absolutely humiliated, ridiculed, turned on by her and my family. I tried to say something, but my mind went blank, and my tongue stuck. 

She shushed me. "It's ok sweetie. You looked good - very girly, with you slim hips and long legs. I watched a little, but decided to leave you at it. You were so close to coming. It looked like you had something in your arse. Did you?"

"Yes."

"What was it?"

"A courgette." 

"Wow, you are a dirty little slut. Did it feel good?"

"Yes."

"Of course it did. How long have you been dressing up in my things?"

"About six months. More."

"Why?"

"I've always wanted to. It feels so good. It feels naughty.

"How did I end up with a useless sissy boy for a house husband?" Ellen was smiling when she said this. "You should have said, love. All these years and I had no idea. I don't mind, really, I don't. It's sweet. We could have fun with it. You're the 'wife' after all."

All the while she was massaging her pussy through her panties and stroking her breasts. 

"Mr Webb is going to fuck me, you know. Finally, I'm going to make you a cuckold, just as you've fantasised all these years, just as you deserve." 

I could hardly breathe as I watched Ellen. She seemed so blasé with the idea of going on a date with the old black man and being unfaithful to me, with me cross-dressing. This wasn't a game or fantasy. This was going to happen. Her eyes were closed and her head was thrown back as she started to masturbate in earnest. She pinched her breasts and pulled hard on her nipples. 

"Eat me Jack. I need to come so badly." 

I got on my knees between her legs and started to kiss my way up her left leg. By the time I got up to her vagina she had pulled her knickers aside. I rested my head on her thigh and licked at her puffy lips first then her clit. A hand grabbed my hair and pulled me hard into her -- my nose against her clit and my tongue thrusting into her like a little cock. 

"He is huge baby, has a big python of a cock bellow that flabby belly. I bet he will be rough too. He thinks he owns me. He's going to want to make me his whore. He's going to stretch me so, so much." 

She came hard then and pushed me away. I fell on my back, my penis tenting my trousers. 

"Show me your little dick, baby. Don't touch it. Let me do this for you. It is little you know, tiny by comparison. I've never said so before, but my boyfriends in college were quite a bit bigger, thicker. Not like Mr Webb though. I bet I'll get a taste his cock later." 

I pulled my trousers down around my ankles and lay back on the floor spread my knees to expose my pitiful genitalia to her. I was hard, twitching with excitement, but I must have looked pathetic to her. Still in my suit and tie, but my dick displayed for her. She stretched a foot over and rubbed her toes and the ball of her foot against my balls, pressing down hard.

"You are really enjoying this sweetie, aren't you? Do you like being cast as the wimp, the cuckold, the sissy? Imagine it. Tonight I am going to fuck another man, an old, fat black man." 

She drew her foot up and down my cock wanking me. Her stockings became wet from my leaking cum. 

"I'm going to suck his cock. I'm going to allow him to put the giant black thing in my tight little cunt. He'll open me up so wide." 

I came then heavily, all over my smart shirt and tie.

Ellen went upstairs and spent two hours bathing and preparing herself for Mr Webb. Before retreating upstairs she told me to strip and gave me her soiled, wet panties, and her stockings and suspenders to wear. I set to cleaning up the house and preparing her a gin and tonic for her before she went out. I was hard and dripping with excitement as I worked. 

Ellen finally called me up to our room where I found her standing at the foot of the bed admiring herself in the full length mirror. She wore a lacy black bra that held her breasts high and pressed together, hold-up stockings and red high-heeled shoes. Her hair and face are done to perfection -- beautiful and slightly whorish. She took her drink from the tray I held out for her. 




Financial Difficulties



"Thank you sissy. How do I look?" 

I told her she looked fabulous, that Mr Webb would be very pleased. 

"I'm going to wear the little black dress you bought me on our honeymoon. I think that will send the right message -- to Mr Webb and to anyone who sees me. We're eating in town, at the fancy new Italian place. I might run into someone we know. They're going to get the picture straight away, aren't they... me dressed like that with a big old black man. That's almost the most exciting thing -- that everyone will know what I'm going to get after dinner... a huge black cock." 

Ellen laughed and beckoned me over. We stood close together, similarly dressed, but so far apart. She was radiant and beautiful - a confident sexual woman at play. I was a little, pitiful sissy husband, about to be cuckolded. Ellen reached down to my always hard, streaming penis. 

"Does your dicklet need relief again?" She stoked me through the panties. Three or four times, her cupped hand wanked me and I came, grunting and panting. He free hand came up to my shoulders to steady me. 

"There, there sweetie. That must fell better." 

I thanked her. When I'd caught my breath she said: "I want you to lubricate me baby. I don't want Mr Webb to tear me with his big cock." 

She held a little open tub of jelly out to me. I took it in my shaking hand. 

"Enough to grease me up me, but not so much that he'll notice. Front and back, please sweetie - just in case." 

Ellen then turned her back to me and got on all fours on the bed. She stuck her arse high and arched her back, resting her cheek comfortably on her duvet. She was putting on a show for me, making me complicit in all this - I was preparing her, in the most intimate way, for Mr Webb. I knelt on the floor at the end of the bed. I kissed Ellen's full soft arse and lapped gently at her cunt and then her anus. 

"Jack love, he'll be here soon. I don't think he's a patient man." 

I rolled the end of my index finger in the jelly and pressed it to her arsehole, gently twisting my finger in deeply. I did this a second time with a little more lubricant. Then, using my other hand, I coated the lips of her completely shaven cunt with a light film of it. I rubbed my cock, erect again, through the soaked panties. 

Ellen thanked me, giving me a chaste little kiss on the lips. She dressed quickly, pulling up a pair of lacy knickers, and then finishing off with the clinging black cocktail dress that left little to the imagination. 

"While I'm out with Mr Webb, I want you to shave off all the air around your little penis, have a nice bath in some sweet smelling oil. You can wear what you like form my cupboard. I want you to wear what you want from now on. I want you to be my sissy house husband all the time."

We sat at the kitchen table for about ten minutes, talking about stuff - me in stockings and sperm covered panties, Ellen dressed for sex and lubricated "front and back" -- and waited. 

Exactly at the appointed time, a big Cadillac drove up in front of the house. Mr Webb just honked long and hard, getting our attention and that of the neighbours. Ellen froze, looking at me, suddenly nervous. Then she gathered herself. 

"See you later baby. Don't stay up and don't worry -- I'll be fine, and I'll tell you all about it, of course. Don't touch yourself, I'll relieve you when I get back." 

She then walked out the front door and into the big arms of a Mr Webb. I watched from behind the curtain as he got out of the car to greet and open the door for her -- a real gentleman, of course. They exchanged a few words as they stood by the car and then, as if it is the most natural thing in the world, Ellen reached up to Mr Webb's big face with her hands and drew him down into a deep, long, wet kiss full on the mouth. They were under the streetlights, in plain view of me and the neighbours. I was left at home alone, sick with anxiety and jealousy, and excited beyond belief.

++++++++++

I woke up as I heard Ellen coming up the stairs. It was 3am. She stumbled into the room. I sat up and turned the bedside light on. She was a terrible mess. Her hair mussed up and matted in places. Her lipstick was gone and her lips looked swollen and heavy. There were blotches on her face and neck and cleavage that must have been dried cum. Her dress was creased and misshapen, and there were long ladders in her stockings. 

She put her finger to her lips to indicate that I should not say anything and came to stand by the bed. I sat up on the edge of the bed and put my feet on the floor, staring up at her. 

"Hey baby, are you OK? Did you do as I said -- no wanking your little prick?" I smiled and nodded. She stroked my cheek tenderly. "And I see you shaved yourself. Nice panties and vest. Good. You're going to be my good little cuckold sissy husband aren't you?" Again I nodded. 

Ellen was roaring drunk and smelt strongly of sex and cigarettes. 

"I am so happy that you are darling. Do you want me to show you what Mr Webb did to me? He fucked me and made me his whore? He was huge baby, more than a foot long and so thick." 

I nodded dumbly again, feeling sick in the pit of my stomach. She tilted the bedside lamp up to give me a better view of her. Ellen slowly pulled her dress off her shoulders and let it fall to her waist. Her braless breasts were exposed. 

"He liked my breasts a lot, paid them a lot of attention... he was very, very rough. Look how swollen they are, bruised and sore. He couldn't keep his hands off them, squeezing them hard and tugging on the nipples, and slapping them just to watch them bounce. He made me show them off in the restaurant. He pinched me here, underneath. I'm going to be so bruised in the morning." 

She lifted one of her sweet, heavy breast to show me the angry red marks. In the process she lifted a nipple to her mouth and licked it wetly. 

"I've been such a slut for Mr Webb." She squeezed her tits in both hands now, roughly pulling on her nipples, as if to demonstrate what he had done. Ellen started breathing heavily. Her breasts were swollen, almost misshapen, looking bigger than ever. 

"Can you see the come on my face and tits? Some of it hasn't dried yet. Mr Webb made me suck him when he dropped me off. I wanted him to come in, but he made me kneel outside, in front of the house. God knows who saw me swallowing that huge black thing? Everyone is going to know that I am a blackman's slut and that you are my sweet cuckold sissy house husband. Here baby, taste this." E pulled my face into her abused, dirty breast, and I lapped up Mr Webb's cum, some of it just deposited there, some of it dried and crusty. Bit by bit, I licked it all up, cleaning E's breasts, neck and face. 

"You are good, dear. Thank you." Ellen bent down and kissed me, an urgent open-mouthed kiss, with real hunger. She tasted pungent, of cock and booze. I was thrilled, so excited I felt faint. 

"I love you, you know, my sweet little sissy."

Ellen stepped away from me and pushed her dress all the way down, and stepped out of it. She'd lost her panties too. She stood with her hands on her hips, her legs parted about two feet, encased in torn and stained holdups. There was something defiant, almost aggressive about this pose. She wanted me to look at her closely, to study and admire her, to marvel at the marks and traces left on her skin by her fat black lover with the huge cock. 

I ran my finger tips all over Ellen's skin, trying to decode and memorise the blemishes. Eventually, I was drawn, of course, to her cunt. I stared and stared. The lips were swollen, pink and raw, and opened up. 

"I'm full of his seed, baby. Cup your hand below my cunt." She tilted her hips forward, bent her knees a little, and bore down with her internal muscles. A big goblet of spunk fell into my hand. She smiled down at me. I brought my hand up to my face and without breaking eye contact licked Mr Webb's cum from my palm. 

"Good boy, good boy. He would be so pleased with you. Mr Webb told me to have you clean me up. I'm so pleased with you." 

She turned to show me her arse, and stuck it out at me, reaching round to pull her cheeks apart. 

"He fucked me here too. Can you see how stretched I am? It was so painful to begin with. Lick my arse for me, clean me up." 

I knelt behind her and pulled her cheeks as wide as I could. My tongue entered her with no impediment. I pushed in as far as I could. I make a seal around her arsehole and sucked hard, drawing a few heavy drops of seed from her. I pulled away to breath. 

Ellen kicked off her shoes, climbed onto the bed and crawled to her side and lay down on her back. She pulled up one knee and let her legs fall open lewdly. She smiled at me tiredly. 

"Take my shoes of please. You can try fucking me if you like love, but I'm very loose and wide." 

I pulled her heels off and rubbed her feet a little. 

"I'll give you a hand job, if you want," Ellen said, her voice trailing off with exhaustion. 

I rubbed her feet a few minutes. Almost instantly Ellen was asleep and breathing deeply. 



Financial Domination



My mistress, Mistress Angela, has commanded me to write this account of how we met and how we live. I have been Mistress Angela's money slave and cuckold for three months now. She moved in with me a little over a month ago.

I met Mistress Angela just over a year ago. She was working as a dancer at the Gold Club. My wife had died the year before, and I was looking for some fun. She sat down next to me and told me her name was Marie. I bought her a drink. As we talked, I found out she enjoyed domination, although she didn't have a lot of experience. I took her into the Champagne Room, and she blew cigarette smoke in my face while I told her my female domination stories. She had a pleasant girl next door face, shoulder length wavy hair, and perky round breasts. I was surprised to find out she was only eighteen. She seemed older and more mature.

Every time I got the chance, I would visit the Gold Club and spend time with Marie. She enjoyed listening to my stories, and after I saw her a few times she found my stories on Literotica.com and used the feedback to email me. I found out her real name was Angela. I sent her my favorite domination and torment pictures, and she let me know which nights she was working and what was going on in her life.

One day Angela called my cell phone and asked if we could get together that night. We arranged to meet at a quiet Italian restaurant near the Gold Club. I drove over after work, and met her at the door. We went in, and got a nice table in the back. She ordered lasagna, and I had shrimp fettuccini.

After the waiter left, Angela leaned over and whispered, "Bert, were those cuckold stories just stories, or is that something you really want?"

I took a sip of my water. "I would love to have a woman cuckold me, but we would have to have a relationship for it to mean anything."

Angela took a bite of the garlic bread. "I would be interested in cuckolding you."

My cuckold fantasies had always involved women closer to my age. The youngest woman I ever fantasized about was in her thirties. I was stunned that a not quite nineteen-year-old woman would be interested in someone so old. It took a while before I could respond. "Really. What did you have in mind?"

Angela grinned. "I've seen web sites of women looking for money slaves. It sounds interesting, and college would be a lot easier if I didn't have to work. I'll be happy to dominate and cuckold you if you agree to support me."

I'd seen web sites and profiles for financial dominants. While the pictures were usually pretty young ladies, they all seemed to be phonies and / or frauds. I never imagined I'd be discussing financial domination with anyone. "What do you mean by support?"

"You would take over my car and car insurance payments, my school bills, and provide me with a monthly $400 clothing allowance and a $600 allowance. When the lease is up on my apartment in a couple of months I'll move in with you."

It was obvious that she'd thought this through. Mentally adding up the numbers, it would cost me nearly $3000 a month, half my take home, to support her as a live in dominant. "And what would I get in return?"

Angela leaned on my shoulder. "You get me. I promise to dominate and cuckold you at least sixteen hours a week. Every once in a while, you get to eat my pussy."

The offer sounded tempting. "How much are your bills?"

Angela dug around in her purse. "Here they are."

I looked over her school, car, and insurance bills. She owed $3000 to her college, but at least her car payments were current. "Can I think about this?"

Angela smiled. "I need your answer tonight. If you're not interested, I have a couple of weeks to figure out how I'm going to finance next semester."

The waiter brought the lasagna and the shrimp fettuccini. Angela and I quietly ate. Did I want to turn my life over to a teenager, even one as sensible as Angela? I thought about her offer and fanaticized what she would have me do as my live-in mistress. By the time the waiter brought Angela coffee, I had decided to accept her offer. No matter what she did, my life would be more exciting with her.

I turned to Angela; "I want you to be my mistress. What do we do now?"

Angela sipped on her coffee. "Pay those bills, and I'll have the rest of the bill addresses changed to your address. Until I can move in with you, I'll come over to your house every Sunday afternoon and dominate you." She leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. "See you Sunday."

I gave the waiter my credit card, and signed the receipt. I was apprehensive and excited at the same time. I yielded to the teen dominant, but I wasn't sure I could afford to keep her.

Later that week I checked around and found out I could save some money by refinancing Angela's car at a better interest rate. I also saved some money by putting her on my car insurance as my niece. I realized that come tax time I could claim Angela as a dependant and save some money there.

Angela came over Sunday just after lunch. She looked at my bondage equipment, and decided we needed to order a few additional items. We got on the computer and brought up JT's Stockroom. She found an interesting locking chrome cock cage and cock ring, as well as a black deerskin flogger and a black wooden paddle with holes she liked. She picked out several leather wrist and ankle restraints, and we placed the order.

Next, I took her to the mall. She selected several bra and panty sets in Victoria's Secret, and picked out some tops and shorts at Pacific Sunwear.

She put her new underwear and sweaters in her car after we returned to my house. I went upstairs to get undressed and get my bondage equipment. When I returned to the living room, Angela was sitting on the sofa.

"Put that box down and kneel in front of me," Angela commanded.

I knelt down in front of Angela.

Angela looked down at me. "From now on, you will refer to me as Mistress Angela."

"Yes Mistress Angela," I responded.

"Do you promise to obey me, no matter what I command?"

I swallowed before I answered, "Yes Mistress Angela."

"Good." Mistress Angela smiled. "Lock on those handcuffs and ankle cuffs, kneel down, and hold my ashtray, slave."

"Yes Mistress Angela." I got up and locked on the ankle cuffs and handcuffs. I picked up the glass ashtray and knelt down in front of Mistress Angela.

Mistress Angela smiled, and got her cigarettes from her purse. "Do you see what brand these are, slave?"

"Yes Mistress Angela, they're Virginia Slims Menthol 100's."

"Good." Mistress Angela lit the cigarette and took a puff. "Buy a couple of packs every week for me."

"Yes Mistress Angela."

"And pick up some Heineken's and wine coolers. I like to drink when I smoke."

"Yes Mistress Angela."

Mistress Angela smoked a couple of cigarettes while she read the newspaper. I enjoyed watching her relax. After a while, my arms were getting tired and I was sure I was going to drop the ashtray when she commanded, "Put that down and make me something for dinner."

"Yes Mistress Angela." I was glad to get off my knees and put the ashtray on the end table. The ankle cuffs made me take tiny steps as I went into the kitchen and put together some sliced ham and peas. The handcuffs made it difficult to prepare dinner. When it was ready, I brought it into the dining room and put it on the table. Mistress Angela was seated by the time I brought everything out to the table.

I started to sit down when I heard Mistress Angela command, "No, you stand by the table and watch while I eat. You need to go on a diet and lose some weight anyway, slave."

I moved to where she pointed. "Yes Mistress Angela." I stood and listened to her while she talked about work and school. After she finished eating, she commanded, "Clean this up. I'll be upstairs in your bedroom waiting."

I cleaned up Mistress Angela's dinner, and went upstairs. It was difficult climbing the stairs with ankle cuffs on, and by the time I got into my bedroom, she was lying on the bed with her shoes, pants, and panties on the floor. She was masturbating with a 7" purple vibrator. I stood and watched while she held the vibrator against her clit and had a couple of orgasms.

Mistress Angela turned off the vibrator and rested. She smiled when she saw my rigid cock. "You finally made it. Kneel down by the side of the bed, slave."

"Yes Mistress Angela." I knelt down by the side of the bed.

Mistress Angela sat up on the side of the bed. "Put your nose in my pussy, slave."

"Yes Mistress Angela." I buried my nose in her cleanly shaved, wet and musky pussy. I tried my best not to move as I heard her light a cigarette. I could smell the smoke as she smoked with my nose pressed against her pussy. Her musky pussy scent kept me aroused. After a while, I heard her command, "Lick me, slave."

I licked the wetness from Mistress Angela's pussy. She tasted sweet with a hint of saltiness. I licked until I heard. "Suck my clit."

I licked and sucked Mistress Angela's clit. She let herself lay down on the bed, her legs hanging off the side. It took a while, but after I brought her to an orgasm, she put her hand over her pussy and commanded, "Stop."

I straightened up my back and waited. After resting a while, Mistress Angela sat up on the side of the bed and looked at me. "You've been a good slave. The cuff key is on the dresser. We're done for the evening."

"Thank you Mistress Angela." I smiled, the taste of her pussy still in my mouth. I got up and unlocked myself from the handcuffs and ankle cuffs. Mistress Angela put her panties, pants, and shoes on, and left. After I cleaned the ashtrays, I went to bed.

The next Sunday Mistress Angela bought blouses and pants at the mall, and dominated me like before. She asked me if I could build her a throne in the basement, like I'd written about in one of my stories. It looks like a huge wooden padded lounge chair with a box in the center. Mistress Angela would lock me in the box, where I'd sit with my head sticking out a hole in the top. She'd lounge on the throne and relax with her pussy right in front of my face. She could lounge and tease me or slide down the throne and relax while I eat her pussy.

The stuff from JT's Stockroom arrived by the following Sunday. It excited Mistress Angela to see the chrome cock cage, and she had me put it on. She threaded a gold necklace through the cock cage key and put the necklace on. We went to the mall and she bought shoes. When we got back, she shackled me in the basement, using the new flogger and paddle on my back and bottom. Upstairs, she let me eat her pussy to two orgasms. I thought she was going to unlock the cock cage before she left, but she laughed as she got dressed and left with the cage still locked on me.

I had a little trouble cleaning my cock in the shower, and going to the bathroom with the cock cage on. It made a noticeable bulge in my pants, but nobody at work commented on it. I was horny when Mistress Angela came over the following Sunday. After I ate her to an orgasm, she unlocked the cage, let me clean my cock with a washcloth, and watched while I stood by the side of the bed and masturbated for her. After I came, she locked the cage back on, and left.

Finally, the Saturday arrived when Mistress Angela quit dancing and moved in with me. I rented a small U-Hall truck and drove to her apartment. Besides her clothes, she had a double bed and chest of drawers. When we got back to my house, she took over the three bedrooms and master bathroom upstairs for her use. She converted one into a walk-in closet, and the other bedroom into a study area. I moved my clothes into the basement, along with the double bed and chest of drawers.

It took the whole weekend to get everything arranged, but by Monday we were settled in. While I worked, Mistress Angela went to the gym and school, and studied. When I got home, I made dinner and stood by the table while she talked about school. After dinner, we went downstairs. She gagged me, locked me in wrist and ankle restraints, and whipped my back, bottom, and legs until her arms were tired. Afterwards, she locked me in the throne and took off her pants and panties. She teased me with her pussy scent while she watched TV. After she turned off the TV, she unlocked me and went upstairs. I went to sleep.

On Friday, Mistress Angela wasn't home when I got home from work. I found a note on the table by the door. "Went to the spa and to get my nails done. Should be back around eight. Have dinner ready when I get home." I had a half-hour before I needed to start dinner, so I went to the basement and took a shower. Later that night, I was glad I did.

I was putting dinner on the table when Mistress Angela came home. She sat down and showed me her fingernails. "How do you like my nails, slave?"

"They look nice, Mistress Angela," I answered.

Mistress Angela talked about the spa and how relaxing it was to be pampered. After dinner, instead of going to the basement, we went upstairs to her bedroom. She'd hung two wrist restraints from the ceiling and screwed two ankle restraints in the floor by the bed. She unlocked the handcuffs and ankle cuffs, and locked me in the restraints. After she secured me, she stood in front of me and grinned.

"Remember how I promised you I'd cuckold you. Tonight, you get to watch while I get ready to go out. I'm going to pick up some guy at the club and bring him home. You get to watch him fuck me." Mistress Angela slapped the cock cage. "I hope this doesn't get too unbearable for you." She laughed. "Actually, I hope it does."

Mistress Angela got a black strapless bra and panty set from the dresser. She went into the bathroom, and I heard the shower running. After it stopped, she came out wearing a robe. She stood with her back to me, and let the robe drop to the floor. She rubbed her bottom against my cock before she put on the bra and panties. She went into the closet, and came out holding a black strapless party dress. After she put the dress on, she went back into the bathroom for a while, to put her makeup on I guess. Afterwards, she came over to me and twirled in front of me a couple of times. She turned out the bedroom light, and went downstairs.

After a while, my arms and legs stiffened. I had no idea how long I stood there before I heard Mistress Angela and some man come upstairs. The sudden brightness when she turned on the light snapped my eyes shut. By the time I could open my eyes again, I saw them standing on the other side of the bed, kissing. He was a nice looking young man, a bit muscular. It didn't take them long to get undressed and on the bed. He fucked her hard in the doggie position. It was nice seeing her breasts swing like that. I realized it was the first time I'd seen her breasts in weeks. Even though she didn't introduce us, the many "Fuck me Brad", "Harder Brad", and "Oh Brad" expressions from Mistress Angela led me to believe that his name was Brad. 

After Mistress Angela had an orgasm and fell on the bed, Brad twisted her around and fucked her on her back. She came twice more before he pulled out and fell to the bed beside her. I felt like I was watching a live porn show. My cock hurt, trying to expand more than the cock cage would allow. I closed my eyes and tried to think of something else, but the smell of sex filled the room.

I opened my eyes and saw Mistress Angela cuddled against Brad's arm and shoulder. He put his arm around her back and stroked her back with his fingers. After a while she climbed up on his cock and bounced herself up and down, his hands squeezing her breasts, until she came again. She rested by sitting still, wiggling her ass, until she started bouncing again. This time he came just before she did, and she fell on his chest. They lay there for a while, and she rolled off him on the bed.

I looked at the alarm clock on the dresser. It was three-thirty in the morning! I'd been standing locked in these shackles for over six hours. I tried to wiggle my arms and legs but I couldn't get the stiffness out. I wondered if Mistress Angela was going to leave me shackled while she slept. Another forty minutes passed before Mistress Angela dragged herself out of bed and unlocked me. I staggered downstairs and fell into my bed.

By the time I woke up Saturday, Mistress Angela had already gone out. I started the laundry, went grocery shopping, and dropped off her clothes at the dry cleaners. I did the bills and played a little on my computer before it was time to take a shower and make dinner.

Saturday night was the same as Friday. Mistress Angela brought me up to her bedroom and shackled me. I watched her get ready and leave. She came home several hours later with a different young man. He was gentler with her, and I enjoyed watching him fuck more than the first guy. In a manner similar to the previous night, I was able to determine that his name was Chris. It was nearly four when she crawled out of bed and unlocked me. I made my way downstairs and collapsed on my bed.

Mistress Angela was sitting on the sofa reading the newspaper when I came upstairs the next morning. I thought about how content she looked as I vacuumed the floors and cleaned the bathrooms. I noted what kind of tampons and douche Mistress Angela used, for my next trip to the grocery store. I mopped the floors and dusted while she took my credit cards and went shopping.

I went into the kitchen and prepared dinner. After dinner, we went downstairs for my regular whipping and pussy teasing. After she settled herself on the throne, all I could think about was the cock I'd seen ramming into her pussy. I wished she'd let me lick her, but she just watched TV for a couple of hours. After Mistress Angela turned off the TV, she unlocked me from the throne and locked me up again in the wrist and ankle restraints. She unlocked the cock cage and carefully cleaned my cock with a washcloth.

Mistress Angela stood in front of me with a smile on her face. "You've been a good slave. Do you think I should let you come before I put the cock cage on?"

I smiled. "Yes Mistress Angela, I do."

Mistress Angela put her hand under my cock. I stood there, waiting for her to move her hand.

Mistress Angela glared at me. "I don't have all night. If you want to come, you'd better hurry."

I got the idea. I thrust back and forth in the palm of Mistress Angela's hand until I came. She put her hand to my mouth and I licked my come off her palm and fingers. She cleaned my cock again, wiped her hand off, and locked the cock cage on my now limp dick. She unlocked me from the manacles and went upstairs. I crumpled on my bed, exhausted.

Last week, Mistress Angela surprised me by taking me to a tattoo parlor down the street. She had "Property of Mistress Angela" tattooed on my back just under my shoulders. She tells me as soon as I lose another ten pounds, we're going back so he can tattoo "Cuckold" on my abdomen.

I'm much happier now that Mistress Angela is in my life. I wonder what she'll surprise me with next.



Financial Exposure



Beverly paced and fidgeted outside the Board Room. Her insides churned with a frenzy unlike her normally self-assured behavior. She knew that in a few minutes her presentation would make or break her career, and sink or save the stodgy bank that employed her.

Freedom First bank faced disaster, like so many others these days. Beverly saw a way out and it drove her crazy she couldn't persuade co-workers to sell the plan to top management. With her boss booted for corruption, now she had her chance. But she'd be talking to the Board with her old title as manager of the accounting department, rather than vice president. Glass ceilings stayed firmly in place at Freedom First.

Beverly hoped that might change today.

Though she might be bumping against the limits of upward mobility, Beverly had a reputation of integrity and competence. To most workers those traits came second to her striking physical appearance, starting with her big, almost too big, blonde, almost yellow, hair. That was pretty much her natural color but she dyed it to keep the tones uniform. She kept it impossibly perfectly brushed, smooth, thick waves swooping away from her forehead to just cover her ears, and settling evenly just past the top of her shoulders. Her pencil-thin body made her not-quite B-cup size breasts stand out noticeably—a feature Beverly took care to emphasize with expensively tailored clothes. She had a sweet and open face that nearly always wore a serious expression. Beverly was well liked from mailroom to executive offices not for her friendliness, but for her intelligence, loyalty, and refusal to double cross anyone. Even those who might resent her success or attractiveness had a hard time finding any other flaws.

Beverly knew all that, and knew she would need it all today. At 31 years old, she couldn't bank on either her youth or experience, but she would have to persuade the brass behind the double doors that she had both.

Beverly left no doubt choosing her wardrobe: high, wispy heels, black, designer pants, a white, form-fitting tunic, and a black, bolero jacket.

An assistant finally ushered her in the room to face twelve aging white men, a matronly widow, and a severe-looking brunette with a long ponytail. She was about ten years older then Beverly and research showed she would be the toughest customer today. She was the sort who worked herself nearly to the top, then slammed the door behind her.

Beverly willed her exploding nervous system to calm, muttered, "Showtime" under her breath, and strode in with no briefcase, purse, or papers in her hand, only the tiny PowerPoint control button she'd had designed especially to loop between two of her fingers and rest in her palm. She pressed the switch and the screen came to life with the Freedom First Bank logo, which immediately burst into animated flames. Everyone's heads jerked, and a couple of the Board members started rising from their chairs.

"Seeing that on the Internet made me furious," said Beverly, causing the two Board members to settle back into their seats. "Lets talk about how to stop this kind of disgrace. I don't know about you but this makes my blood boil, and with that she slid out of her cutoff jacket and tossed it toward a chair so quickly and naturally it seemed like the only logical move the presenter could make.

"We all know these past few months have felt like waking barefoot through coals on fire," said Beverly, clicking through a series of downward spiraling graphs. As she ambled back and forth in the front of the room dominated by a huge, mahogany table, she flicked the buckles on her heels to discard her shoes, and hopped as though on a hot floor, just enough to make a point but with enough professional reserve so that her theatrics were barely noticeable.

Beverly quickly turned to the side so no one would notice her take a deep, breath to prepare her for the next part of the speech.

"We need to face reality," she said, trembling hands heading for the waistband of her hip huggers. "The fact is, we've gotten caught with our pants down," and with that, she deftly slipped off a couple of hooks and stepped out of her slacks. Beverly kept confidently delivering her presentation, but inside her brain was screaming. Her tunic covered her like the shortest dress in the world, but taking off her pants in front of the leaders of the bank definitely crossed the line between showbiz and, well, something unheard of in the Boardroom.

She was sure everyone could see her knees violently shaking, but her skinny white legs moved fluidly as she stepped assuredly, just as she'd rehearsed, back and forth in front of the room. 

"We have to act now," said Beverly, fingers flying to the four buttons near her neck, "or we'll lose our shirts." In a flash her top shot up over her head and disappeared into a corner. The move lifted and dropped her hair, but a lightning-fast shake of her head put every strand back in place. No one noticed details like that, however. Instead, in the front of the room their presenter now faced them with shoulders covered only by a thin, bra strap. Her breasts pushed up from the middle of her chest under modest, flesh-colored cups. Her torso narrowed to a tiny circle of a waist and her white stomach concaved into the band of her brief matching silk panties—it was obvious her 4 a.m. routine was on exercise machines rather than a tanning bed.

The Board members were shocked speechless. But even the with extreme surprise and Beverly's good looks, she knew she only had a few seconds before someone would come back to their senses and stop the show. Her next move had to be bold enough to keep them off-balance, but she also needed to get the Board's collective brain off of sex and back to business.

"Our best option right now is to merge with The People's First Bank."

Beverly knew that proposal would jolt any of the Board members out of any sexual fantasy. People's First was First Freedom's inner-city rival. The Board hated People's First in every way possible. It was probably the only thing that could pull their minds off of Beverly's striptease.

But she couldn't afford to have them thinking very long. She was ready with another quick punch. And that had every one of Beverly's nerve endings searing. Her next moves were insane, and the only way she could go through with them was a result of the endless practice sessions that prepared her for this moment.

"Our scandals and mismanagement have been exposed to the public," she said, unhooking the front clasp of her bra and letting it drop. In almost the same motion she pushed her panties down and walked out of them as nonchalantly as stepping out of an elevator. "The audits and investigations have exposed us and left us as naked to the world as I am to you right now."

She was a vision at the front of the room. Though her breasts were not large, they stuck straight out, like small artillery shells, but made of Jell-O as they quivered with each breath and word that moved her chest. Between her legs a few wisps of light hair didn't come close to concealing the thin dark line where her labia skin folded inside.

Beverly knew she looked good, and she was counting on that to stave off the shock that could turn to outrage over her outrageous breach of decorum, for at least a few more seconds until she could finish her sales pitch.

She forced her thin, white legs to begin a stroll around the enormous table, continuing her speech as she passed by each board member.

"If we don't try something different, were dead. Out of business. I don't think anyone in this room wants that." She delivered her patter as though fully clothed, trying to bridge the gap between the content of what she was saying, and the incredible sight of the nude beauty circling the meeting room. "In the same way I've just done something unthinkable, we need to take off the things that are keeping us from staying alive."

Beverly could almost feel the intensity of the stares from the board members along her back and caressing her rump, stroking her nipples and diddling into her vagina, as she completed her circuit and returned to the front of the room.

"Before you call security," she said, knowing it had probably only occurred to the pony tailed board member, "ask yourself why I would do something as unprofessional as stand before you without a stitch of clothes on." Beverly spread her arms wide, subtly poking her tits and snatch boardward, in the process of stretching, using the backs of her hands to give her bright blonde mane an alluring flounce.

"Why would I risk what you know is a hard-earned reputation? I realize I could very well walk out of this room a laughing stock, my career ruined." She kept her body spread-eagled, giving the old men something to remember for a long time. She knew that would be worth at least a couple of votes for her proposal. But she kept her eyes locked on the ponytail, for a specific appeal to convert her. "I'm taking this chance to show you in the most dramatic way possible that I care about this bank every bit as much as you do. Please consider talking to People's First and save Freedom First."

Her speech over, Beverly grabbed the trench coat she'd arranged to be on the coat rack in the corner, to avoid ruining her exit with an undignified struggle to get her clothes back on, slipped her arms into the sleeves and took her blonde hair out of the board room that stayed in a stunned silence until the door closed behind her.

Beverly walked briskly, flushed and focused, along the hallways and to the elevator, avoiding the gawking from the desks and cubicles, as she rushed by, bare feet sticking out from under an overcoat. She finally reached her office, shut the door, collapsed in her chair, pulled a glass and bottle of vodka from the back of a lower drawer, and gulped two fingers worth.

She still felt the warmth from the alcohol in her veins just a few minutes later when the chairman of the board knocked twice and entered the office.

"Congratulations," he said. "The board voted thirteen to one to pursue merger talks with People's First Bank. As the new director of the accounting department, you need to arrange to make a joint presentation to both boards as soon as possible."

He left, closing the door behind him, and Beverly smiled at her winning vote, her promotion, and at the board's desire for her to make another presentation.