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Shoot!

By: daisyboi_sissy



Everyone included is above the age of 18 and very willing participants. Please send ideas of next scene because this one leaves you hanging on.



"What do I do next? You are the professional here Uncle Woody?" I say looking into the camera smiling really big. Uncle Woody is my mom's youngest brother and has always been thought of as the wild child in the family. 

"Maybe we should take a break and I will look at some of these on the computer. They should be really good since you are such a good subject Tori, Uh Timothy sorry" he replied and we both laughed. 

"Well you haven't let me see any of them and it's driving me crazy! " I tell him.

"Hey you are the one who claimed to be so camera shy that you didn't even do school pictures anymore. I am just trying to get you used to being in front of the camera. The time will come for you to see what I have come up with later! And I just want to know how you kept this little secret of yours hidden for so long from my sister. In front of the camera you are better than alot of the girls I have dealt with in my studio. " Uncle Woody says loudly.

"Maybe we got some of the same genes but don't tell mom!" I laugh.

The fact that Tori was the new name he had come up with since he caught me wearing a pair of red lace panties under my shorts. I was dressing after a shower when I arrived a couple of days ago and he was treated to being the first man to ever see my hidden side. I had just put my hair in a cute pigtail from the top of my head and had slipped into a pair of four inch red heels. My lips were painted with a light pink lipstick and I had changed my stud earrings to a pair of red hot hoops. My shorts were not pulled up on my hips yet and the panties were almost fully visible. I didn't mention it but I saw that he got a little rise in his shorts when he got a full view of my little round backside. He asked me to give him a full view before pulling the panties back up on my hips.

"You're a little hottie in those panties honey!" he said in the door of the bathroom. Then he began telling me how he wanted me to pose for some shots in his studio.

Uncle Woody couldn't have been any nicer to me though. We discussed all sorts of things and I was allowed to have my way of his ex girlfriend's closet. She was a little hottie and her closet was a treasure chest for someone like me. I told him I had never had the chance to wear so many different outfits. He encouraged me to try anything I wanted to wear. Uncle Woody spent a few thousand dollars on a tanning bed for her that hadn't been used in weeks. I got in there with a tiny patch to cover my crotch and sweating to a deep dark tan. 

Since Friday Uncle Woody has allowed me to wear short shorts, miniskirts, short dresses, heels, hose and lots of different panties. My practice in the heels was helping as if I had always been a corner girl downtown late night. I slipped on the silk waist length robe and walked to the kitchen. We had just finished the second session of several different poses and pictures. Opening the fridge I reached for a bottle of water as Uncle Woody joined me. 

"Those last shots of you in the pink boy shorts are probably the best ones we have done so far. You are so photogenic and I have been working on a webpage so we can start reaping the benefits of just how good you look Tori. And that is what I will call you from now on while we are together" he says smiling. 

"I want you to look at some of the magazines on the kitchen table and get some idea of how I want some of the next shots to look like. And I even found some layouts of your idol Tori Black. She is a very hot little brunette just like yourself too I have found out." he said. 

I didn't share with Uncle Woody that I had spent alot of time looking at Tori's films online and loved how that hot little bitch could please a man. My all time favorite was where she was caught by a big black cock sneaking into his house to leave him a surprise gift. Many times I had spent pleasuring my little love hole imagining that he was driving deep into my body. Walking to the living room in my heels and sitting down I opened a couple of the magazines. With my slim legs crossed I flipped through the pages. There were pics of the black guy she had worked with in my favorite scene in one issue. Uncle Woody informed me that the guy was Tori's boyfriend for quite a while. I asked him how he knew that.

"I met them both at the Adult Video awards show in Vegas last year. I am not sure why but Josh is not with her anymore. I talk to him occasionally on the phone when I need a guy for a shoot he comes by to help out" Uncle Woody says.

"No way you know this guy! He is hot as a Damn firecracker!" I blurt out before I can catch myself. Then I look at Uncle Woody with a "slap me cause I said that look!"

Uncle Woody just smiled really big and sipped his water bottle looking at me. Not knowing what to say I just tried to read his reaction and looked back down at the magazines. 

"Well that is by far the strongest thing I have heard you say since my little discovery two days ago. If you have any other things you would like to share with me please feel free to open up Tori. Maybe next we can do some of the poses you see in there of Tori. She is quite an eye catcher wiggling around on that bed. And those little toys she seems to be enjoying are pretty cool too. I know you are uh.. equipped a little differently but you are just as hot to a lot of people who buy magazines and pay to visit websites sweetie. I think you could have a lot of fun if you just let your feelings come through to the camera. Why don't you let me pick out something for you to wear and get to work on some more shots." Uncle Woody says to me very seriously.

"I am just so worried about letting you see so much. Not that I don't trust you Uncle Woody but it just seems I have come a long way since I got here. It is tons of fun to be able to dress like this and be who I really feel I am inside. Maybe it is so much better that it is you instead of someone else though. You have been really sweet and I want to thank you!" I say as I lean over and kiss his cheek softly.

Uncle Woody smiled and said he was going to pick me out something and he could make me look as sexy as Tori in that layout. I stood up and walked over to where the cameras were pointed for our last shots. He came walking over to me with a sheer white lace outfit. A pair of thigh high stockings, lace thong panty, a garter and a really pretty sheer top were on a soft pink hanger. 

"This really ought to be the hottest shots yet and I know you can pull it off Tori. Darken up the cheeks a little and add some red to those lips. We are going to see just how sexy you can be in front of the camera. I want you to show off that sexy little body of yours to the camera. Like I said earlier there is an audience out there for what you can do to the camera lens sweetie" he instructs me before I go change. He plants a soft kiss on my forehead as I leave.

Smiling I walked off to my bedroom and thought about his advice. I began undressing and picked up the tiny outfit I had for my next shoot. My clit felt the soft fabric of the thong panty and then I slid the garter up to my hips. The sheer top felt very sexy too. I fantasized as I kept dressing about how much fun the last few days had been and how Mom would scream if she knew. In front of the vanity I added the makeup Uncle Woody mentioned as I began to daydream a little.

Thinking about that scene where Tori gets caught in the little skirt, I wanted to get a little moist in the panties. Dreaming of peeling that towel off a hot looking black co-star in a film of my own, smiling my reflection as the lipstick was finished. As I got up from the makeup chair I stopped in front of a full length mirror to see how I looked.

"Damn Tori you looking good enough to get fucked today sweetie!" I say laughing out loud. This was by far the hottest I has EVER dressed. My tiny bubble ass shown nicely from the side view in the sheer outfit. Tightening up the thong panty I walked down the hallway to the studio. My face must have been lit up pretty good with the smile I felt I had on. 

"Welcome to the stage everyone, Miss Tori Bivens..... Uncle woody says as I walk in the room.



Help me finish this one PLEASE folks!! 

Shoot! Ch. 02



Everyone in this erotic story is above the age of 18. This story is all fiction and just my imagination. (and fantasy) 

*

"Damn Tori, you looking good enough to get lucky today sweetie!" I say laughing out loud. This was by far the hottest I has EVER dressed. My little bubble ass shown nicely from the side view in the sheer outfit. Tightening up the thong panty I walked down the hallway to the studio. My face must have been lit up pretty good with the smile I felt I had on. 

"Welcome to the stage everyone, Miss Tori Bivens"..... Uncle Woody says as I walk in the room. I put my hands on my hips and swung my little ass side to side like coming down a runway. My arms went up in the air like I was looking for applause from a crowd. I spun a few times each way, showing off for Uncle Woody. As the camera started snapping again I gave him full ass shots, with some encouragement from him. 

"Show me that money maker sweetie!" I hear as he laughs. With that comment I stop and look at Uncle Woody. 

"You keep talking about websites, money and all this but you haven't told me how all this is going to benefit me Uncle Woody! All of this is fun, but what exactly are we doing?" I whine to him.

"You like watching Tori Black have all the fun she has right as a model. Well she doesn't do all of that for free sweetie. Miss Black has made a lot of money playing around in those pretty outfits. She can make several hundred dollars in a week doing photo shoots. You are going to do much better at this if you just relax and have some fun honey. Here I brought you something to help relax you Little Tori!" as I get scolded by Uncle Woody. 

He hands me a glass of water and a white pill telling me to take it. Without asking I do what I am told and swallows the pill with some water. 

"Also one quality the real Tori has is a sweet personality when she is around other people. I want you to be all smiles for these next shots, since you look so damn hott! We are going to introduce you to a few people and they want to see sweet and sexy. Not like your mom whiny and bitchy!" he says laughing and poking me to smile. 

"Who are you going to introduce me to Uncle Woody? Now you have me worried that you are going to show these pictures to someone who ought not to see them!" I say asking. 

"Tori you are a very special girl and you have all the qualities to attract a lot of men. And that is where the money is at sweetie in my business. You have a real innocent look about you which is great for the camera and in the magazine. We just need to find the Tori which you have hidden inside of you and reveal her. Let me get something to drink and I will be right back to start shooting again." And I am hooked by his little speech.

Uncle Woody kissed my forehead and led me over to the bed. Instructing me to have a seat on the bed and take a look at what he had laid out for me. I saw a magazine with my idol on the cover along with a couple of toys too. I giggled when I saw the plastic playthings and a small tube of lube. There was a small red plug that was maybe an inch big and a realistic black toy with a suction cup bottom. I picked them up and asked out loud what these were for and who they belonged too. 

Uncle Woody replied that they were new and all mine to have if I wanted too. I rubbed and played with each of them a little as I didn't think he was looking. I sat on the bed and crossed my legs. At that moment Uncle Woody brought a video camera on a tripod near the bed and sat it down. It was aimed at me as he turned on to reveal a little red light. Suddenly I could see myself on a monitor screen near us in the room. 

"Sweetie would you like to introduce yourself to the camera for us today. Tell us what you do for fun or what makes you happy. Tell us who you are, what you like, or anything you would like us to know Honey. Tell us your favorite color, what clothes you like to wear or who you would like to meet if you could." I get as instructions from Uncle Woody

I giggle at him and then looks to the camera. "My name is Tori Bivens and I really enjoy having my picture taken. I like wearing lots of different stuff and outfits that I now have access too. I really enjoy feeling pretty in a cute outfit as you can tell." I stumble through the first part.

"Well Tori I think you are very pretty and everybody is going to want to know if you like boys since you are so pretty. Do you have a boyfriend Tori? I am sure someone like you would not have a problem getting a boy to hit on you for your phone number." Uncle woody asks prompting me for an answer. 

"No I don't have a boyfriend and thanks for the compliment. No boys have ever asked me for my phone number and I don't care if they do. I....I guess I think older men are cute since you asked me" I say laughing. "I think my Biology teacher is attractive and he is in his 30s. Not that I would ever .....uh.... say that to him. This is too much and I should not be doing this Uncle Woody!" I say but doesn't move from where I am sitting and actually starts laughing. 

"See that's what I want to hear from you sweetie! You can't tell me that you aren't having fun Tori. I can see it in you and I know you want to tell me all about it sweetie. Tell me about your Biology teacher, tell me about the outfit you have on and tell me what it feels like to look this damn sexy!"

*

TO BE CONTINUED......I started story long time ago, but I do plan on making more additions... Encourage me with a 5 star!! 



Shoot Me



I closed my eyes and stepped under the shower allowing the hot water to fall over my face and head. The water quickly washed away the thick coat of soapy lather that had covered my body. I had been feeling a little dirty after what I had done earlier that day.

A friend of mine and amateur photographer had asked me if I would pose for some sexy shots for his portfolio. Previously having shot mostly landscapes, he was interested and eager to apply his talent to the human form, more specifically in the art of erotic photography. I cautioned him that I would not do anything pornographic or even fully nude. We compromised on lingerie and possibly some implied nudity.

He had turned a bedroom in house into a studio. Even though he was only beginning to turn his hobby into something more professional, he already owned an impressive array of equipment, backdrops and props. I set my bag of sexy stuff on the floor of the studio and we went to the kitchen for drinks before we began our shoot.

We polished off a bottle of wine between the two of us as we sat discussing ideas for the shoot. He popped open a second bottle and took it with us as we returned to the studio. I grabbed my bag and headed to the restroom to change and touch up my make-up. When I finished, I stood examining myself in the full length mirror on the back of the door. I was quite pleased with my appearance but I was still a little nervous.

We shot in two different outfits before he suggested losing my top and moving on to some implied shots. I suggested that we take a break for another glass of wine first. That would be my third glass and I was definitely starting to feel the effects. I stepped back onto the set with my back turned to him. I looked around and smiled deviously as I slowly removed the bra of my two piece set. He snapped the first photo.

After several shots he induced me, "Do we really need to cover up those beautiful tits". A sly smile had grown across his face. I dropped my arms which covered my chest. They were quite lovely, I thought to myself. And so commenced the topless portion of our shoot.

Two or so dozen shots later he asked if we could move on to some fully implied photos. He was already pouring me another glass of wine. I smiled sheepishly as I accepted the glass from him. I took a sip and set in on the floor so that I could fully undress. I leaned back in a pile of pillows with a blanket strategically placed to just barely cover me. I smiled between sips of wine as he shot more images. I changed positions several times once my beverage was gone. Finally he paused and announced that we could be finished if I liked. I agreed and stood up, feeling a little woozy.

He stared at me for a moment, his eyes unable to keep from traveling down my body as I stood before him fully nude. He and I had played in the past but we had never had sex. The tension was a little thick. "There's enough for one more glass of wine if you want it," he said to me while motioning towards the bottle. I poured what was left into my glass and stood drinking it without much regard for my undressed state. He was watching me out of the corner of his eye and I sort of enjoyed it. I could tell he was thinking.

When I finished that fifth glass I started toward the door, announcing that I would go get dressed. "Wait," he said quietly as he grabbed my arm. I looked at him. He was hesitant. "What?" I asked. "Well," he paused, "I was thinking maybe I could get just a few shots of that pussy," he asked. "Just a close up," he added, "I won't include your face. 

I didn't say a thing but stepped back and stood with a look of consent. He brought the camera back up to his face and dropped to his knees. The sound of the shutter releasing turned me on. He snapped a few before standing. My heart was racing. "A few fully nude?" he asked, "Just for my own personal collection?" I smiled. He was reading my mind.

We did more than a few shots in that series. He showed them to me in the camera and we deleted a few that I did not care for. "Now you promise you will keep these for your eyes only?" I asked. He swore to me that he would. He removed the camera from around his neck and turned, setting it on a nearby table. I dropped to my knees and tore open his pants. He turned back startled and looked down at me. His dick was already in my hand, quickly growing hard as I stroked it. "We're not done," I said in a soft, sultry tone.

I licked that dick from base to head before slowly slipped it between my tight pressed lips. He moaned and I took him in deep to the back of my throat. After teasing him with my tongue for a minute or two I looked up towards him with a look which asked, "What are you waiting for?" He understood my message and picked up the camera to the left of him.

I can't really explain how horny I got as he photographed me sucking his dick. It was incredibly hot and we got a lot of really great shots. It wasn't going to stop there of course. We moved onto the set and into that pile of pillows and blankets. He fucked me in numerous positions, pausing only to snap several shots of his dick entering my wet pussy from various angels.

When we finished, he burned the images to a CD for me to take home suggesting that I could use them as masturbation material. Oh and I knew I would! As I stood there in the shower reviewing the day's activities in my head, I grew exceptionally horny. I slid my hands over my face to wipe away the water, and then down my body. Past hardened nipples I slid my hands over my tits and across my stomach traveling down in between my legs. Mmm yes, that had been good!



Shoot to Kill: Reflections on Vodka



At midnight last night one began to hear an electronic beep with a one second period and a 60-second cycle. This sound continued throughout the night causing several awakenings and subsequent forays through the premises to determine the source of this Close Encounters ditty.

Sometime after dawn one determined that the sound was a low battery warning on a cordless phone and just hours later recalled that said phone was at the top of the attic ladder--ready to hand for incoming phone calls which might beckon while one has crawling, Quasimodo-like, round the attic precincts.

Musing over this whilst occupied with one's elevenses, one wrote the following:

SHOOT TO KILL

By JCSTREET ©

Patrick woke suddenly at 3:10am knowing something was wrong but not knowing what. He heard a single 3000 Hertz tone with a duration of one second and 60 seconds later he heard it again. He knew what the sound was but he couldn't put a name to it. He had heard it before and he thought the situation had worked out just fine but he couldn't recall what the situation had been.

He groped out of bed in the dark cracking a shin on an extended drawer, cursed his way to the door and turned on the light. The sound came again. Patrick moved down the hall, preternaturally alert . . . listening; listening; listening . . . and heard the sound again. He was becoming irritated. He moved through the house turning on lights, listening for the sound; trying to identify from whence it issued. But it seemed omnidirectional.

He assumed a plains Indian crouch and moved his head slowly from side to side using the space between his ears as the base of a vector triangle and the sound came again. But from whence it came he knew not.

Now that the problem had assumed more serious proportions Patrick thought he might as well have a drink. He went into the kitchen, pulled a bottle of Stolichnaya out of the freezer, smugly aware that it was pronounced stalichnaya, like all Russian 'O' words, bolshoi/balshoi, horosho/harasho. It gave him a feeling of comfort to dwell on this picayune detail because the sound was beginning to drill into his brain.

Patrick decided he didn't really need a glass and moped into the living room with the bottle. He turned on the TV, watched 11 commercials for Motrin, turned off the TV and took a long pull on the bottle. He listened for the sound. The sound had stopped. That made him nervous. Now he was agog with waiting for the sound. It's only when the Chinese water torture drops stop dropping that the senses reach their most hyperalert state; begging . . . yearning . . . for just one more drop.

He got up, moved to the stereo, picked up TB Sheets, by Van Morrison and placed it on the deck. Just as he was about to press  . . . the sound came again.

Patrick went back to his chair and took a slightly longer pull from the bottle.

The vodka was oily from its arctic incarceration and send a shooting pain down his neck. he leaned back and said to no one in particular, 'FUUCCKKK', and then listened to the sound for another 10 minutes.

By this time the bottle was down well below the shoulders. But his empiricist bent left him no option but to try, try, try and try again to locate the source of the sound. He began to wonder if the sound could be associated with some hitherto undiscovered intelligence service; laughed at his paranoia and took another long pull of Stoly, or was it Staly . . . who gave a shi shi shi shit (burp).

He got up holding the bottle, blundered into a side table knocking over a lamp and then lurched obliquely onto the carpet. He giggled, realizing that this gave him a new vantage point from which to vector in on the sound . . . to scope it out . . . to radar it. He imagined he was at the controls of a combat information center, master of all known means of acquisition.

The sound came again and he lay somewhat discomfited for several more minutes as the sound ticked away the minutes of his life. He pushed himself up to his knees and experimentally raised one knee to plant his foot firmly on the carpet. He pushed upward with both hands and one foot but his body failed to rise. He fell over sideways and giggled.

The sound came again and he yelled 'ARRRRGGGGHHHHH'. He could do that. The nearest house was several hundred yards away.

His next attempt to rise was relatively successful leaving him in unstable equilibrium but bipedal once more. He reeling round the room giggling until he realized he had lost the vodka bottle. The room dimmer had been set on low. He couldn't remember which door (there were three in the living room) the dimmer was beside.

The sound came again and Patrick wondered whether a Zen meditation might help but when the sound came yet again he wondered if he would recapture enough serenity to ever do a Zen meditation again.

The sound came again.

Patrick moved from the living room, toward his den, passing a family room that was in the process of becoming a library. It was a jungle of ladders, paint cans, decorators' canvas tarps, baulks of wood, sheets of paneling and all the detritus from which the alchemists would transmute chaos into clublike tranquility.

When he entered the den he navigated round a large antique globe and headed for his gun cabinet. He felt out of focus and realized he needed glasses. He always needed glasses after a few drinks. He turned around, tripped over a partners’ chair, groped for the desk and slammed both hands down on a keyboard which slipped off the desk causing him to lose his grip and fall.

This time he sat for several minutes. The sound continued its plangent footfalls on his limbic system. Eventually, with the desk for purchase, Patrick was able to lurch once more to his feet. 

He moved over to his gun cabinet and considered his choice of weapons, deer rifles, varmint plinkers, a 1916 Springfield 30-06, shotguns . . . shotguns . . . yes; where was his Federal Arms blue-steeled pump. A second cabinet, this one lacking a glass front, contained Patrick's more exotic armory. Being a respectable citizen of not insubstantial means he had managed to acquire licenses for an arsenal of weapons of which the boyz in the Hood could only dream. Alas . . . it was secured by a combination lock whose cryptic number scheme momentarily escaped him . . . but then he remembered . . . 38-26-38; not much chance of a stranger cracking THAT one . . . forgetting for a moment that his society wife's much publicized figure was a matter of public record and, coincidentally, accorded to the gun cabinet's high security algorithm.

He fumbled with the lock, eventually prised it open, removed it from the hasps and grasped the doors, only to fall back, still holding the door handles and gasping as the cabinet tilted dangerously toward collapse. In a momentary shudder of terror he was reminded of the decimations possible from coke machines when pulled and shaken by discontented patrons. He managed to let go the handles before this endgame played out and the gun cabinet crashed back against the wall. Patrick would have crashed once again to the floor had not the thick Wilton turned his fall into a less fracturing collapse.

Patrick needed a drink. He groped along the wall of the den, down the hall and back into the living room where his hand miraculously fell on the dimmer switch, serendipitously turning on a thousand points of light.

Bolstered by the Stalag intensity of the glare, Patrick's eye quickly fell on the prostrate bottle which, mercifully had its bottle cap well closed. In a sudden flash of insight he realized that capping the bottle after each pull had become a vegetative function. He might well be capable of it even if decerebrate. 

Not willing to push his luck he fell to his knees and crawled across the carpet. He fumbled with the cap, spilling an ounce or so and then raising the bottle sideways at an awkward angle and spilled out a double; some of which ran into his mouth. He fell over sideways and then turned on his back giggling. 

A dollop of vodka splashed onto his belly but it had already warmed up to the freezing point of water. He forgot temporarily what mission he had been embarked upon but staunched his puzzlement by reflecting on whether water truly WAS the universal solvent, being that it was immiscible with most, perhaps all, petroleum fractions . . . uh . . . for starters.

But then the Federal Arms mantra asserted itself like a rap record and he recalled his search for the shotgun. This impelled him to crawl out of the living room, down the hall, into the den and over to the menacing gun cabinet. He was able to raise himself to his feet by grasping the projecting base on which the cabinet stood; the base which contained the ammunition drawers, the targets, the cleaning materials . . . the . . . whatever. The deadly weapon was racked next to a Thompson, minus its drum magazine, but he had sticks for it.

Knowing that handling firearms was serious business, Patrick took a deep breath and incanted, 'I am as sober as a (giggle) . . . I'm as sober as a, a, a . . . sober guy', and satisfied with this concession to responsible citizenship, managed to unrack the weapon, heft it into his right hand and half pump with the left to check the chamber. 

No shells.

He put the weapon down on the cabinet base, gouging a small sliver of woodstain from the hitherto pristine furnishing, and began wrenching drawers open and palming his way through a pot pourri of ammunition. Birdshot or slug? His mind began to toy with the term '20mm grenade' but he forced himself to be sensible and decided on 12 gauge birdshot. At six to 12 feet it would cut a goodly swath through any fucking sound generator alive.

He opened a box of 50 federal 12 gauge birdshot cartridges, spilling most of them onto the floor but managing to retain sufficient to fill the magazine. He chambered his loads, spilling several more, until he felt resistance. Then he crept toward the door of the den on the balls of his feet, mimicking what he thought was the proper battle order for a recon mission, though wondering tangentially how he was capable of doing this. The pain of his shoulder thudding into the door jamb reminded him that he was not yet fully alert.

Patrick took a deep breath and essayed the hall, imaging himself to be a VC infiltrator moving on the balls of his bare feet. After all, his feet were bare. He felt his senses suddenly supernaturally aware and when the sound came again he pumped a round up into the breech with a satisfying 'slock' sound. 'Igot a hard-on for this sucker now,' he reflected.

But when the sound suddenly came again--not 60 seconds later but more like 30--he let out a terrified squeal and discharged his load into a tall, slim cherrywood cabinet holding a King's ransom in Orrefors and Christofle glassware. Frosted shards floated ominously through his gaze before raining onto the hall carpet. Terrorstruck, Patrick chambered a second round, heard the sound again and knew suddenly it came from the soon-to-be library.

He turned in what felt like a lightning reaction and cooked off a round which left the barrel at 2850 feet per second to dispel its kinetic energy on a tall stepladder holding a large can of red paint.

Bloodmist occulted his vision and he threw both bands in the air shouting 'YES' causing the Federal to leave his grasp, fall buttfirst onto his toe and discharged yet another round into the'library' where it blew out a large thermal window commanding an uninterrupted view of an ornamental lake.

Patrick howled and screamed and reached for his lacerated toe before falling backward, banging his head on the hall wall and falling in a heap, moaning and mewling. 'This is not fair' he burbled into the carpet, 'this is just NOT FAIR.' and girded by the realization that none of this was HIS fault, Patrick lurched to his feet, fueled by adrenalin, and strode purposefully back into the den.

This time it was the Thompson which fell to hand when he reached half-blindly for any ballistic weapon which might be capable of pretty significant serial killing. He knew where the stick mags were and they were preloaded with .45 ACPs. He yanked open the relevant drawer, grabbed a mag and slammed it into the receiver with a satisfying 'CLICK'. He slammed another mag into his pocket, but realized as it gouged into his side, that he had no pocket. He hurled the magazine dementedly through the den window, where it became entangled in a rhododendron bush and fell to earth.

Patrick grasped the Thompson's pistol grip with his right hand, pulled back the cocking lever with his left and grasped the forward pistol grip.

He advanced remorselessly into the living room and with a scream of 'I'm mad as hell and I'm not going to take it any more' he fired a short burst into the TV set--no more Motrin commercials. Elated with his Godlike power he raked the stereo unit with a sizzling burst. No more Van Morrison. Foaming at the mouth from previously suppressed saliva he giggled insanely and cooked off the balance of the magazine into a white, French provincial desk. 

'I hate fucking French provincial,' he screamed. He tried to trigger more mayhem but there was no more firepower. He hurled the Thompson impotently into a tall bamboo and glass stand, housing a rare collection of Chinese lacquerware.

Susan Leete (she had retained her maiden name for purposes of pretension) heard the last long burst of nearly 20 shots as she turned her Lamborghini into the endless curved driveway. Her attitude in the low vehicle was only slightly less prone than that of an astronaut, bleeding from the eyeballs in a 12g fugue.

Susan knew Patrick only as an agent of entropy in whose hands all order must eventually return to chaos. However, the comforting feeling of nearly three million dollars in her series of Cayman bank accounts had inured her to Patrick's monthly rampages . . . he was a metaphoric Bhowani Junction, rogue elephanting through a pristine world of objets d'art.

Susan had achieved this enviable position (and that was before counting her inheritance--unfortunately heavily-taxable) by staging a series of heroic cocksucking jamborees with Patrick's accounting team, a reasonably affable and fairly incompetent crew of young East Coast patricians. She had, indeed that very night, been pursuing her interest in penile mouthfeel with the connoiseur's relentless zeal. When she deigned to speak at all it was in permanently teeth-clenched mode such that her over-developed cheek and jaw muscles bulged out like those of a mutant chipmunk.

Indeed Richard had once referred snidely to 'The Attack of the 50-foot Chipmunk.' Fortunately she had been in the process of opening a bottle of Cristal and had managed to bop him in the temple with the cork, inducing several minutes of staggering lability in the asshole.

'Oh what is it this time', she sighed histrionically in a rather clichéd womens' magazine fictoid.

Goosing the Lamborghini in a graceful drift round the pink-pebbled final turn she skidded to rest under a Porte Cochere, accented with Italian marble and Swedish glass.

She opened the gullwing door and debarked from the four-foot high vehicle in a parody of every boy scout's dream--long slim legs, revealing as her split skirt parted, a seamed silk stocking leading to a delicate black garter--garnished with a red bow--running up her ivory thigh to the lacy edge of her off-white Chinese silk, camisole panties.

She pushed the door which retracted with hydraulic Star Trek elegance, and processed languidly to the heavy double doors; lately come from a former English baronial seat. Fortunately they yielded soundlessly to her electronic door opener, revealing a thousand points of light which sparkled brilliantly on a million shards of irreplaceable glass.

Picking her way delicately through the carnage she came upon what she first took to be a large white jellyfish until she recognized the familiar weeping and handwringing of the husband she had vowed to love, honor and obey.

'What is it this time, Patrick,' she demanded, paying no court to the dozen lacerations from which blood seeped relentlessly in a barbershop pole frieze.

Patrick responded with a keening wail which found resonant harmony with two fillings which Susan's dentist had pumped into her molars several days before. There would be no bill. Susan never had to pay for anything. Connoisseurs never did.

Patrick said 'the horror . . . the horror' and subsided into bathetic weeping.

'What fucking horror,' shouted Susan, temporarily rattled.

'That sound . . . that evil sound,' wailed Patrick pointing nowhere in particular.

Susan stood for several seconds, ear cocked, until the sound came again and suddenly aware, emitted a braying laugh.

'You mean the low battery warning on the cellphone? Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear."

'Waaaaaaaaagggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!," said Patrick.

'Bwahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!' said Susan and, turning on her heel added, 'I think I'll stay at the club tonight' underlining the statement by sashaying out the door swinging a small jeweled purse.

-30-

July 11, 2002



Shooter



Authors Note: A special thanks to Embrielynn for her help in editing this story. I also posted on Lush under the name Deviant



I lean back and sip my morning coffee as the familiar sound of the computer coming alive fills the space where I sit. I am at home not at work. It is a Saturday and I am even hornier than usual. I should point out that I am a single male in my mid-thirties. I have a high sex drive and the last few months of being single have been hell on my poor cock. A co-worker who is a female once told me a joke. Why do men masturbate? So they can have sex with someone they love. I didn't see the humor at the time, but maybe there is something to that after all.

I am about to check my e-mail when I see a banner on my home page. It is an adult dare site. This is different. Taking dares online over a web-cam. I am curious and decide I will give it a try. My kink level is high today, so a little diversion seems to be just the thing. I quickly set up an account and log on with the screen name, "Shooter."

I select the option that I would prefer to play with a female and in no time I am talking to "Bitch." This don't sound good, but what the hell. We have some idle chit chat as she explains the rules, which basically is me promising to perform any dare she enacts, then she moves in for the kill.

"Unzip your pants and pull out your cock. That will tell me if I even want to proceed with you."

What is this? Am I auditioning for a porn movie? Oh well, here goes. I aim the camera to my crotch, unzip my jeans and pull it out as directed.

"I have seen worse. Take off the rest of your clothes. I want you naked." she tells me.

I do it. To be honest there is a sort of decadent thrill in it all. I am soon butt naked in front of the web-cam talking to Bitch.

"For the rest of our conversation you will remain completely naked."

"Ok."

"Now get yourself hard," she tells me.

This is the part about the whole cyber thing I have never figured out. How do you jerk yourself off and type at the same time? I simply aim the camera to the correct angle and begin stroking my cock for her.

"Adjust your frame rate. Your hand is blurry. This is not the Indy 500. Slow down," she remarks.

Bitch has a sense of humor that is good. I tinker with the frame rate and resume the task at hand (no pun intended) my cock is now fully erect and I am hornier than ever.

"Take a picture of your cock and send it to the site. No facial shots, just your cock. It will be online for all to see in minutes," she informs me.

Hundreds of people are about to see my stiff prick. I feel kind of sexy as I send the pic in. Sure enough it pops up on the screen along with other fools sitting naked playing with themselves. A few females too, that is hot.

"Go to the bathroom and get a towel."

This is getting weird now. I am entertaining the idea of logging off and leaving Bitch stranded in cyberspace yelling obscenities at me, but some twisted sense of adventure has me heading for the bathroom. I return with a towel and tell her so.

"Spread it out on the floor in front of you."

I am feeling light headed. I just want to empty my balls; she is into a Dominatrix mood. I spread the towel.

"Aim the camera appropriately, get on your knees and jerk off onto the towel."

"Say what?"

"You heard me. Don't get up until you cum on the towel."

"Can we talk about this?"

"No!"

I rise from the chair questioning my sanity and lower myself to my knees. I begin stroking my still hard cock ensuring I am over the towel. A glance over to the monitor shows the action. I am a porn star now. Ron Jeremy would be so proud. My cock is engorged and my cum-laden balls are screaming for release as I stroke harder and harder. Any minute now and the flood will erupt.

"Who is that behind you?"

What the hell is she talking about? I pay no attention and ready for the cum shot. I shoot one thick glob of cum after the other onto the towel before I hear a sickening crash behind me.

What the hell?

I turn around to see my mother passed out on the floor. How nice. The parents have come for a visit. I forgot to lock the door.

"I have to go now. I have some explaining to do."



Shooter Girl



Dedicated to the best shooter girl at the Pink Pony in Atlanta - 03-02-03

When I woke up I felt like my cock was digging into the couch cushion I was laying face down on, and my head was still swimming with images from last night. As my consciousness solidified, the anonymous breasts and butts receded into the void of my sub-conscious as rapidly as the morning sunlight burned my over-stimulated retinas. Only one girl was left, and her face and cleavage were burned into my brain despite the throbbing, dull ache in my temples. The shooter girl. Jesus, that girl knew what turned me on. 

The first time she walked over she sat in my lap and my body instantly responded. Despite the fact that some twenty-odd chicks were dancing totally nude, she was my one and only focus. She had her breasts pushed up, straining against the low sweep of her blouse. Her breasts were perfect and natural and ample, but her smile, her smile was what pushed me over the edge. That, and the way her thick body fit so perfectly in those daisy dukes and that checked top, 

Her hair was curly and wild, and her face was beautiful, especially the way her nose was ever so slightly crooked to the left. She loved giving men shots. You could tell by the way she got right up in your face, practically brushing her lips against yours. She'd start sliding the shooter tube full of red snapper in and out of her thick pouty lips, and it was a short jump in my mind to replace that tube with my aching cock, which was already rigid and oozing pre-cum.

She was just so close and intimate, straddling my lap with her curvy body and laughing when I accidentally poked her in the thigh. She smelled like lilac, and her eyes swallowed you whole, especially at such close range. After a few minutes of bumping and grinding and oozing and sucking, she placed the shooter tube in between her luscious, swollen breasts, and I dove in. 

As I went to slurp the tube out of her cleavage, my tongue ever so slightly brushed her skin, and she tasted like honey. My head swam as I felt her nipple, which was pressed against mine through only the fabric of our clothes, harden. She grinded a little harder that time, and swooned into me, and there was suddenly a different look in her eyes. She leaned back and smiled at me.

"Was that even close to being as good for you as it was for me," she asked in an almost inaudible whisper.

The look in my pleading eyes was all she needed to see. 

"Wait here," she whispered into my ear, and she struck off to administer many more shots to many other men. 

However, my hard-on didn't dwindle in the slightest. I kept catching whiffs of honey and lilac, and she kept looking at me from across the room, flirting with me and teasing me. The night went on and I ordered a couple lap dances, but none of these girls held a candle to that shooter girl. They all danced and wiggled, but their eyes were distant, and they didn't even sit in my lap. When the shooter girl came back I pulled her aside. 

"I can tell you're not like these other chicks. You seem to really get off on turning men on." 

I held my breath as she brought her eyes up to mine. I could feel her breath quicken as it buffeted my cheek, and she drew me in even closer. 

"You have no idea," she mouthed to me. My eyes widened and she smashed my face into her breasts, flattening them around my face like the padding in a catcher's mask. And then she licked my lips. Then she walked off again. 

The problem was, I wasn't gonna let her just walk off. I was way too horny, and more than a little drunk. Usually I'm careful in strip-clubs, because the bouncers never seem to understand my side of any altercation. Tonight, however, I wouldn't be denied. I walked up behind her while she was waiting for another rack of shooters and grabbed her ass, delivering what should have been the fatal blow to my drunken evening out. However, instead of slapping me and calling for management she spun around and put her face up close to mine, and stared in my eyes.

"I knew you wanted another shot, I just knew it," and grabbed my hand and started pulling me back stage. 

I went past the dressing rooms and into what looked like a broom closet, and it turned out it was a broom closet. She was all over me the second the door shut behind us. 

Under the flickering bulb hanging from the ceiling she started stripping down, and I did the same. There was no question in either of our minds what was going to happen. She started first by dancing just shy of my body, brushing my nipples with her nipples, and nudging my pulsating cock with her thighs. When a sticky strand of precum stretched out between us, I saw that hunger light up in her eyes, and she dropped to her knees and started fucking my cock with her mouth. Her plump lips slid up and down my shaft, and her saliva glistened as it ran out the corners of her mouth and down onto her swinging tits. 

She started licking me and stroking me and rubbing up against me and whimpering, and I realized I would have to hold my pending orgasm off a little while longer, because she was aching to be fucked hard. She was using her other hand to finger herself, and it was getting to be pretty frantic. She was panting and slurping on my cock, and bobbing her ass up and down on her other hand, when I decided it was now or never. I grabbed her by her hair and brought her up to my face, and she kissed me long and hard, working her agile tongue in and out of my mouth, making me crazy. So I bent her over a utility sink, and started pounding her from behind mercilessly, somehow knowing ahead of time that she liked her fucking to be hard and fast. Her pussy was dripping as I entered her, and soon I had her clutching the sink, her breasts flattened into obscene ovals against the cool porcelain lip, while she begged me to keep going. 

At this point, it was obvious this girl needed something more, so I pulled out and gently pressed the tip of my cock against the brown star of her asshole, as her juices flowed from my cock down the crack of her ass. "MMMMHMMM..." she moaned, giving me all the clearance I needed. With one final slow and steady push I shoved my dick into her ass up to the hilt, and it was then and there that she came like thunder. 

Her whole body quivered and she started bucking wildly, slamming her ass into my pelvis and grinding my dick into her ass. She started pumping my rod, taking long full strokes, and then she collapsed, leaning into me for support. As I caught her, I began pounding her ass even faster, and she screamed, and I screamed. I pulled out and she dropped to her knees, grabbing my cock and deep-throating it. She only stopped long enough to wink at me. 

"I think you've actually got a shooter for me, don't you," in the sexiest purr I'd ever heard. Then she started begging with her mouth full, looking up at me with her brown eyes, pleading for me to come. It was the look that got me, that hunger in her eyes, that desire to please me. 

My head began to swim as rivers of cum gushed from my cock, which had been begging for release for hours by this point. Strand after strand dropped onto her lips and face and breasts, and she lapped up all she could. Her lips were glistening with the stuff as she smiled at me one more time, moved her face in close to mine, and smacked me with a sloppy wet kiss that instantly raised my standards for any kiss in the future. That night I learned the secret to seduction, because it's all in the eyes. It seems like the closer a man gets to a woman's eyes, the more powerful they become. 

Standing in that coatroom, tasting my juices mixed with hers, locked in that soul kiss, watching her watching me; that was where I knew I would never be the same. For one thing, I could tell all my friends that I gave a shooter girl a shot of my one in the back of a strip club. I just hope other girls don't end up seeming pale in comparison. For God's sake, I'm masturbating right now just thinking about her, and I'm already late for work. It's like I can still smell her and taste her on my lips. Shoot, I need to wake up and get back into the real world. What the hell is wrong with me? Wait, who the hell is that in my bathroom? What the hell is this ring on my finger? Is that a checked blouse on the floor? Shoot...



Shooters Hill Road



I quietly cursed as the van I had hired from a local rental firm coughed and chugged and finally stopped as smoke plumed from the engine. Exiting the vehicle I was agitated, knowing now that it would takes hours for the AA to arrive and my morning would be wasted. I picked up my mobile phone and called the AA giving them my location in Shooters Hill Road, a 45-minute delay came the reply from the phone operator. I resigned myself to a long wait. I stood under a large tree at the verge of the road as it started to rain lightly. I amused myself watching people walk up and down this suburban street. I first noticed her as she walked briskly past me and on to the shops about 200 yards further along the road. Ten minutes later she was returning from the shop just as the rain increased, she stopped under the tree sheltering from the rain and open a packet of cigarettes she had just purchased and lit one, drawing back and exhaling. 

'Needed that?' I offered. 'Yes' she replied 'It has been a tough day'. 

I looked her over, she was young, 18 I guess and had a nice figure. Standing 5'7" tall she was wearing tight black slacks that accentuated her long legs and round hips, and a tight fitting zebra striped top, which had a neckline that showed a little cleavage. She drew on the cigarette again as I ventured again, 'you from around here? 'Just around the corner she replied' I asked 'Are you at college or do you work? ''I work' came the reply, 'but I have taken today off ' 

Terrible day to take off, with all this rain about' said I

Yes, but it does not worry me' she responded

'Why is that'?

'Oh I partied late last night and I am a little tired'

What have you got planned for the rest of the day'

'I plan to spend most of it in bed'

I must admit at this point I was starting to fantasise about what it would be like to have this young girl in bed, feeling her and filling her. But at 49 I would be considered an old man to her so I resigned my self to my thoughts and admiring her body. 

' I wish I could spend the day in bed' I shot out leaving off the, 'with you' that I was really thinking. She nodded, smiled and drew on her cigarette again. 

'Where are you from?' she asked.

'What from around here or my accent?

'I can here you are Australian from your accent, where do you live?

'Not far, about 3 miles away in Blackheath'

I decided to play out my fantasy just a little to while away the time. I noticed that it had stopped raining but she remain there under the tree talking to me.

'What was the party like? I asked 'Did you play up?' I said feeling a little more courageous.

'Nah' my boy friend got drunk so I just sat around and talked until late'

'That is a shame, what had you planned' I said seeing how far I could push this conversation. 

She examined me carefully; I felt her eyes on me, moving up and down my 49 year old body that was carrying signs of fine food, fine wine and little exercise. I was not fat but I was not a Greek god either. For the first time in the conversation I wondered what she was thinking. I was feeling a little tingle at my boldness and felt the energy between us change as she took a long contemplated draw on her cigarette.

'I have only being going with him a few weeks so I expected that he would pay more attention to me' she said 'As it was I left him and caught a cab home early this morning' 

'Silly boy' I mumbled, 'You are a lovely looking girl, he must be a fool to let you go'

'You think so' she said coyly.

'My word yes, I would have given you the attention you deserve' came my boldest statement yet.

'Hmmm' she said 'I am sure you would have. Well I am off for a cuppa tea and bed'

'That sounds wonderful, the tea I mean'

She smiled, flicked her cigarette butt into the running gutter.

She turned and began to walk off in the direction of her home, 'See you around' she said as she sauntered down the pavement swaying her hips a little more than I noticed on her approach.

'Yes' I said 'See you around some time'; knowing that this was a pleasantry passed without meaning or genuine desire to meet again. 

I watch her walk down the road and out of sight day dreaming what it would be like to fuck a young and willing girl. Middle age gives way to some strange dreams sometimes.

Finally the AA mechanic arrived and with the usual dexterity of some one who knows engines poked and prodded. Turning the key, the engine roared into life. He explained that some hose had come off here, causing this to go there and stopping the motor. I nodded in disinterest only happy to be on my way again. 

Getting in the van I headed up Shooters Hill Road wondering which house was hers as I drove around the corner. Looking ahead I saw her standing on the road verge, I slowed and wound the window down. 

'Want a cuppa' She said. 'Sure' I said enthusiastically as I swung the van into the driveway of the house where she was standing. 

She led the way up to a first floor flat conversion of semi-detached house. My heart and mind was racing, what was going on here. Was this a friendly gesture or was this girl offering more than a cuppa. I could only follow as see what happened.

Entering she gestured to the lounge chair as she moved into what I presume was the kitchen. I could hear the sounds of tea making, kettle filling, and cups clinking. 

Returning to the lounge room she instructed that should make my self comfortable as that was what she was going to do as she walked down a small hallway to the bedroom area. 

Again I wondered what I was doing here, a 49-year-old married man in the flat of an unknown 18 year old girl with intentions that given the slightest encouragement I would show this young lady how a man looks after his girl. 

I hear the kettle begin to whistle as did she and I looked up as she ran down the hallway toward the kitchen, she was no longer wearing her tight top and slacks, these had been discarded and she was wearing what appeared to be a soft silky bra and matching panties. I drew a long breath. 

'Sorry' she said as she ran through the room, 'I was getting changed when I heard the kettle' 

Sorry I though, I was not sorry. I could feel the swelling in my trousers at the sight of her young developed body. I began to have second thoughts about this hole thing, was I being a foolish middle aged man thinking that a young girl would offer herself to me. I stood and moved toward the front door as she reappeared with two cups of steaming tea. 

'What's wrong, are you going?' she asked.

'Well' I murmured

'Oh come on' she said 'Stay for a cuppa, I promise not to bite'.

As I turned I caught the site of her wonderful arse as she placed the cups on a small table. She knew I was looking and seemed to push her arse higher in my direction holding the position as I approached. I took her hips in my hand and pushed into her softness with now rock hard member. She pushed back swaying slightly rubbing herself against me. I knew there was no turning back. She stood and turned to face me, my hands still on her waste as she spun. She reached up, placing her hands around my neck as I pulled her into me and reached for her lips with mine. My head spun as I felt the wetness of her lips, my tongue darting in to her open mouth and circling her tongue. I felt her suck on my tongue drawing it deep into her mouth. What was minute's felt like hour as finally she draw back and looking at me said 'Now, what was it you said about giving me the attention I deserve' 

I was on remote control; my hands ran over her body as she pushed her silken covered pussy hard against my bulging cock. Reaching behind her I unhooked her bra and stepped back as I removed it. Her young pert tits were beautiful. I lowered my head and gently kissed one then the other, returning to the first to suck it into my mouth and then sharing my attention with the other. I then knelt before her, staring at her silk panties that were now showing with wetness. I lowered them exposing her trimmed pussy. Leaning forward I licked a big slurp up her slit feeling her move her legs apart to give me more room. I then lay on my back pulling her down on me until her pussy was firmly mounted on my mouth. My tongue entered deep into is hole. She began to grind her hips pushing her self into my face so I could hardly breath. While my tongue lashed in and out of her hole my hands drifted up her body and I felt her hard nipple, I squeezed them hard and for the first time I hear her moan. I moaned too, but the sound was muffled as I drank the juices running freely from her. She lifted from me, turned and sat back down on my face. I realised that I was still fully clothed as she put her hand on my engorged cock, and then unbuckled my trousers. I lifted my hips as she pushed my trousers down and released my cock. 

Without hesitation she sucked it into her mouth and I groaned blowing bubbles in the juice of her wet hole. Deeper and deeper she took me into her mouth sucking my cock like I have never felt before. My hand had found her tits and were squeezing and pulling on them. I knew it would not be long before I erupted and I signalled her by reaching forward and taking her head in my hands, I with drew my tongue from her soaking hole and screamed I am going to cum, to this she drove my cock into her mouth as I gushed my semen into her. She sucked and sucked as wave after wave of semen spurted. Finally she sat up erect forcing her self back down on to my mouth and sliding ever so slightly forward, thereby offering her anus to my tongue. 

I licked around her bung tasting the sweat and salt. Her hands came to her pussy and she began to finger herself pushing her pouting arse into me. I licked and pushed to no avail there is no way I was going to get my tongue into her tight ring. I was tongue tired. I took her hips and lifted her of my face. She rolled on to the floor still finger fucking her self. I stood and kicked off my trousers that were still around my ankles. Looking down at her I knew I wanted to fuck her hard and long, I stroked my wet cock and then picked up her light frame and bent her forward over the arm of the lounge chair. I thrust my cock straight into her juicy pussy with out ceremony and began to stroke her in and out in long deep and forceful thrusts, sinking my cock deep until my balls banged against her. Over and over I thrust into her hearing her squeal in pain and delight with each stroke. 

She began to chant, fuck, fuck, fuck with each stroke as I increased the pace and force of my thrusts. Knowing that I would not last long in the tight her cunt, I slowed and dipping my fingers in her juice began to finger her arse hole at the same time. She wailed as first one then two fingers entered her tight arse, all the time my cock was slurping slowly in and out of her pussy. 'Take my arse' she screamed and so I withdrew my cock and placed the head on her tight arse hole. I pushed with all my might feeling my cock bend under the strain; finally my cock head breached her tight hole and popped in. I pushed again sinking it further and further until I hand buried it to the hilt. Slowly I drew back and pushed again. On the third I blew my load into her arse and increased the speed of my pumping with each spurt of my cock. I stood there, still mounted in her, and totally spent. 

Finally I drew out of her and staggered to the lounge and flopped down. She had not moved and was still stretched over the arm of the chair. I looked at her; she smiled. I stood and walked around behind her and patted her on the bum. Recovering my trousers I pulled them on. I moved to her, picking her up from the lounge and carried her into her bedroom. She looked exhausted as I lay her on the bed. 'I am fucked' she said. 'That was the plan' I replied. Pulling the sheet covers over her I kissed her gently on the forehead and said that she should sleep and I would let my self out.

As I backed the van out of the drive way I was smiling at the pleasure that had flowed from the irritating brake down of the van. I headed up Shooters Hill road and a smile cross my lips, I did not get to drink my cuppa. Then it stuck me, I did not even know her name but I sure will remember where she lives, next time I will get that cuppa.



Shooting Amanda



Isn't it wonderful to spend time doing something you love? I have always adored erotic photography, on both sides of the camera. I value the time and attention required to arrange the pose as perfectly as possible, to be as alluring, as erotic as can be. I love the way that that pose will be captured for later viewing; and I appreciate mix of vulnerability and control implicit in posing for somebody else. 

Every modelling session is different. Some models like to role play; some see this as an opportunity to act like total sluts in a completely safe environment. Some want to push boundaries even further, to explore submission or to take matters outside. 

But not Amanda. Meeting for a drink, she's excited but very nervous and unsure how much she wants to show. I'm sympathetic (being a little nervous myself), so we start innocently enough. She's wearing a business suit: chalk stripe, skirt ending about six inches or so above her knees (nice legs too), and an off-white, buttoned light and loose silk shirt. 

We begin with a few poses, changing regularly to grab the best light, take a new angle, or make the most of her features -- her legs, her curves, or even the material of her clothing. She starts by standing on the floor while I take full body shots and head shots. She keeps asking me if she's doing alright and I'm completely honest -- yes, she's fantastic, even if sometimes I need to explain my requests a little more clearly. But with each compliment, and each assurance, she relaxes slightly more. Her mouth opens a little, her lips relax, her movements become a little more fluid and her personality begins to reveal itself. 

As her comfort increases, the positions change. Still fully clothed, she stands on a chair, with me stealing shots from below, trying to capture as much of her legs as I can as they disappear up into her skirt. Or she's sitting down, with me capturing her skin down her blouse. I'm to her side, behind her and in front. I'm far away and oh-so-close, enough to make me ask her to hold her breath while I shoot, to avoid blur. High-resolution close-ups of her stockinged leg disappearing into the darkness under her skirt; of some bra just visible inside her top; of the curve of her breasts; and of the tip of her tongue peeking invitingly through her moist lips -- these shots are some of the most erotic of our session together. 

By now Amanda is beginning to enjoy herself, judging from the small smiles she gives when she doesn't know I'm looking and by the teasing, coy, flirty looks she is giving the camera. So when I suggest that she show me the other clothing she has brought, she leaps up and opens her bag. Inside is a vast array of tops, skirts, stockings and underwear, offering so many choices and combinations that she is surprised that I suggest just two small changes -- to lose her jacket and bra. She twigs immediately and gives me a sly, slightly naughty smile. 

Once back, I place her at the table in our room which I have moved away from the wall. Some papers on the desk are enough to suggest an office. Initially I ask her to lean back and stretch, then slowly to unfasten her top button. I move to the side and capture her cleavage -- she appears to have very nice, very normal breasts -- not enormous by any means, perhaps a 32C -- but certainly worth a second, third and, as I'm discovering, thirtieth view. Another button goes and now I am getting some side breast images. A third button gives me the merest hint of nip slip. 

Then she leans down and pretends to work. As she looks up and talks to me, pretending to be unaware of what she is showing, the constant interplay of breast and nipple dancing with her blouse, together with the constantly changing shadows, is simply electrifying and I find myself rapidly becoming very hard. 

Amanda then mentions that she had made another costume change and moves to the front of the desk, suggesting I take a closer look. She sits on the desk and I look again through the viewfinder. Great chest, lovely body and then, wait... her tights have seams now and there's the slight hint of suspenders through her skirt. 

She slowly opens her legs, touching herself lightly on the throat and the top of her breasts, before unfastening two more buttons. She takes a pen and slides it over the blouse, moving it aside to show off her gorgeous breasts, before using the end of the pen to tease her nipples. All the while, her legs are opening wider so I can see up, into the darkness. As a pose, it's amazing but then she tells me to come closer, "really get in there and look properly". I move in, teasing her first by photographing her breasts, moving close until I could smell her skin and hear her breathing, which is definitely shallower than before. On request she holds her breath, sighing in mock-irritation, as I focus in on her nipple, which hardens still further in anticipation. 

"No, idiot, not up here", Amanda says. I move down to be level with the desk top, moving away slightly to photograph her sitting nonchalantly, blouse open, breasts exposed, legs apart and a shoe casually dangling off her left foot. I move in closer. She widens her legs further and I capture the silk of her stockings, moving up to the top where they squeeze into her thighs, until -- finally -- I can see a hint of her knickers. 

These are perfect -- ivory French knickers of silk and frills, no doubt looking substantial when laid out on a table. Worn on her, however, and seen from my angle they become much more revealing. Knowing exactly what she is doing, Amanda shifts her legs slightly to give me the best shots into them, showing just a slight hint of what lies beneath, but no further. 

My private thoughts and lust is interrupted by Amanda's voice. "I was dead nervous when I got here, I wasn't sure about this at all but this is really fun, even quite exciting." I withdraw a distance and we look at each other. We are both slightly flushed and, from her glances, it appears that my physical reaction to her pleasure has been noticed, and enjoyed. 

Never taking her eyes off the camera, Amanda slowly pulls up her skirt while I click away. First I see the top of her stockings, then the top of her thighs and, at last, a clear vision of the knickers themselves, in all their glory. With her legs now surely unable to spread any wider, she runs the tip of the pen slowly up and down between her thighs, pressing deliberately into the silk. Whenever she reaches the top, she rubs the pen slightly in a circle over one particular spot while smiling to herself mischievously. A small but definite dark oval appears on the silk, growing slowly over several minutes as Amanda continues to play, lost in her own thoughts. Eventually she looks down, has a sharp intake of breath and looks at me, blushing when she sees my huge smile and substantial bulge. 

"I think it's time I changed", she says. "Be right back." When she returns she is wearing only her suit jacket, fastened with its single button. I smile as she moves back to her chair. She is pushing the naughty girl angle now, the secretary with a crush on her boss who chose to forego her blouse and bra that day and is now experiencing the delicious sensation of bare nipple on wool clothing. 

After a while, she sits up, turns her chair sideways and begins lightly scratching her leg. I jump to attention, very much aware that she is now calling the shots -- with every image I take now the result of a choice she has made. Amanda's scratching causes her skirt to ride up so after a few side shots I move in front of her, zooming into the darkness. At first, nothing, but then I see them. There is almost nothing there -- a mere triangle that announces the presence what must be the world's smallest, thinnest, scantiest thong and, underneath that (oh goodness, is it really) the unmistakeable sight of her light brown pubic hair, pushing insistently against the material and trimmed perfectly into a landing strip around an inch or so in width. 

Amanda's skirt inches up her legs as she spreads them further, all the while looking guileless and innocent. Finally, it is fully revealed: a tiny, transparent, white thong, with her bush and lips -- now rather swollen -- pressed against the material as if it were a window. 

Amanda picks up her pen again, pressing it against the material to play once more as her other hand returns to unfasten her jacket. Now breathing quickly, virtually topless and showing almost everything she can, slowly pulls her thong down to mid thigh, all the time keeping what little there is of the material between my camera lens and her pussy. With the light fabric stretching between her thighs, she slides the pen down between her legs and lets out a faint but definite sigh of relief. Still clicking away, I can see from the movements of her hand that she is fucking herself with the pen, sliding it in and out while her other hand is working her clit, with the movements becoming ever more rapid. I continue to shoot photos as she fucks herself faster and harder, working off the excitement of what has now been several hours of teasing. Strangely enough, only now do I feel as if I'm intruding on something private so, with more than a little regret, I place my camera down, smile goodbye and, adjusting myself, walk out of the door to leave Amanda to her pleasure.



Shooting Arrows



One day last week Michael and I had a relaxing kind of day... we've been busy with my house lately getting it ready for my furniture that I'm having shipped over from the Bay Area and putting up pictures in all the rooms. So we sleep at his place since it's more comfy.

We had sat out on the deck yesterday afternoon as Michael got up early and went to his PT session. I stayed in and tried to catch up on some much needed sleep. But the noise outside coming from the beach was pretty loud and so I got up to see what all the commotion was. 

I looked out the window and saw a bunch of people gathered around. I watched for a bit then saw the rangers come in and pick up some guy who had a busted up camera with him. I found out later that he was snapping photos of the nude ladies for posting on the internet and some boyfriends chased him and beat the crapola out of him and then took turns crushing the camera.

That's about as exciting as it gets around here. I jumped in the shower and thought about what to do for the day. As I thought about everything we have done since being back here I started to get a bit horny. So after my shower I dried off and laid out on the bed and thought of many things. As I closed my eyes and imagined Michael with some ladies I know, I brought myself to a slow satisfying powerful orgasm. It felt good as it had been awhile since I took the time to pleasure myself. Whenever I attempted it before Michael would always catch me and we'd end up doing each other for a few hours.

Anyways, he had cum home right after I pulled myself off the bed and he started to make breakfast for me. He's such a love! I came down the stairs and he handed me a cup of coffee. I sat down on the bar stool with my legs crossed balancing on my ass. He came around kissed me and drew his hand to my pussy. He slipped a finger into me and smiled then pulled it out and sucked it saying, 'ah you finally found the time to make yourself cum' I blushed a bit as I do only with him.

I said yes I did as he smiled and walked back behind the counter. He made a good breakfast. Differently though because now that he's feeling better he's eating healthy again and watching his intake. He had gotten so out of shape that when he went in for his surgery he weighed in at 225 when he was released he was at 218 and since he's been eating healthier and doing his PT sessions he's now at 201.

After breakfast, he went up and took a shower then came down in his shorts. I told him we need to go to the store cause I have an idea on how to spend the day. He said ok and put on a tank top as I put on a bikini and a wrap around skirt. We went to the local market and picked up a case of beer and some potato chips for me. I love Lay's Classic chips. 

Anyhoot, we got all that and loaded it into the truck. We then drove over to his cousins house and visited with them for a bit and shared our beer. After about an hour we said we were gonna go and his one cousin Michael... who my Michael was named after... suggested we go shoot arrows in the field. I said ok and off we went... we shot some target arrows and laughed, the bow I pulled back on snapped almost shredding my boobs which caused both men running to my side. 

I had 2 sexy men on either side of me as I was rubbing my right boob because of the string which I pulled back on twanged against my boob and left a nice long red scratch across the side. I pulled my bikini top off and had my Michael take a closer look as my hand cupped my left boob as I looked at his cousin and asked him to check it although I know nothing hit it. He didn't know what to do and stood there with a look on his face like, 'who me'...

As my Michael lifted my right boob and checked all around, I lowered my hand between us and began massaging his cock thru his shorts. It didn't take long for it to show thru the leg cutout. He asked me what I thought I was doing and I told him I was a little buzzed from the beers we'd been drinking and wanted to have some fun out here in the field. 

He said I was getting into family affairs with his cousin present and that I might want something I wasn't prepared for. I told him I love a challenge and as I pulled on his cock tighter. He said ok, do what I want and I did. I pulled his cock out of his shorts and pumped it. His cousin looked around me and saw what I was doing to Michael. He pulled away and said he'd go to the truck and wait for us. I told him no and cum join us. He looked at Michael and all Michael did was tell him to do what he wanted as it was no problem if he chose to stay. He stayed.

I motioned for him to come closer and as he did, I grabbed his shorts and pulled them down his legs. I took his semi erect cock into my hand and began massaging him. I began sucking my Michael as I pumped his cousin's cock thru my fist. As I slurped on Michael's hard cock his cousin was talking to him about all this. He asked my Michael if this was ok. My Michael said it was as it was ok with me... in fact he said the she finds it a challenge... before I knew it I had 2 hard cocks in my face, I took turns sucking one then the other...

I undid my wraparound as I took Michael's cock down with me. His cousin moved in front of me and pulled off my bottoms. He knelt down between my thighs and began licking my hot pussy. He tongued around the clit before running his tongue into my entrance. He sucked my clit then slid a finger deep into my pussy. He pumped me a few times before adding another finger. He sucked and licked my clit bringing me to the edge of orgasm. I sucked Michael's cock deep into my throat as my tongue swirled around his balls and coating the underside of his cock. 

I worked him thru my hand as I sucked the head. I felt my orgasm approaching as I grabbed the cousin and pulled his face into my pussy as I clamped my legs around his head. I grabbed Michael's cock which had slipped out of my mouth and pumped him while sucking the head. He started to moan and within seconds he flooded my mouth with his seed. Sucking and swallowing as much of his thick cum as I could pull from his balls. He shot several streams into my mouth as I felt it hit the back of my throat. I took him into my throat and let my throat muscles coax the rest of his hot cum into my tummy.

As Michael slipped from my mouth, his cousin was right there wanting me to suck his hard cock so I opened my mouth and in he slid. I wrapped my tongue around head before letting him push his length into my throat. I squeezed his balls as I gripped his shaft. I pumped him in and out of my mouth as he looked down watching me. 

Michael then took my hips in his hand and turned me over so I was on all fours. Still sucking his cousin Michael positioned his cock at my pussy and pushed into me. He pumped me several times bringing me to several orgasms before pulling from my pussy and telling his cousin watch this. He aimed straight for my ass and in one stroke buried his full length into me. It felt so good as it slid right in. Only my juices coating his cock was the only lube he used as he began thrusting deep into my bowels. 

I sucked his cousin faster as I worked his cock in and out thru my hand as only his head remained in my mouth. I felt his balls contract and pulled him from my mouth as I pumped his cock onto my face and tits. Feeling the slick cum cascade down my face and onto my tits or onto the ground. He unloaded a torrent of cum as it showered me. Feeling it land on my shoulders and on my back. I rubbed the head one more time before he backed up and sat down on the ground.

Michael who was still embedded deep into my ass was thrusting and pumping me hard and fast. I looked back at him as he continued to ream my backside. I moved forward pulling away from him and turning over to my back. He lifted my legs and pushed them tight against my tits and slid his cock right into my ass. This position would create a much tighter grip for him. He held onto my ankles and pumped away against me. I slid my right hand down and began rubbing my pussy and clit. 

Giving me even greater sensations as I felt his hard shaft sliding against my anal walls filling me full of cock. He was looking into my eyes as he made love to my ass. After being with him for as many years as I have he still feels good inside my body. As I rubbed my clit, I would reach down and stroke the top of his shaft. His cock was so hard. He brought me to another orgasm as I began to pinch and pull on my nipples. 

I love alittle pain with my sex. As I started to cum, I tightened my muscles which made him pump me faster and within seconds he moaned out and unleashed a downpour of hot cum as I felt his sperm fill my bowels. He pulled from my ass and stroked his cock and let ribbons of cum fly from his purple head. White hot cum landing on my pussy and tummy, tits and neck as I yelled at him to cum on my tits as I held them together.

He backed away as we both regained our breath. I remained on the ground sprawled open with my legs spread, cum covering my face, boobs, chest and pussy not to mention the amount oozing from my ass. I rolled over to my side facing Michael as he sat there breathing hard as beads of sweat dropped from his jawline and neck. 

I looked back to where his cousin was and he was sitting there indian style stroking his hard cock. I asked him if he wanted another go round but he said there was one thing he was wanting from me. When I asked him what, he said he was embarrassed to say it loud so he leaned over me and whispered it to me. He wanted me masturbate myself facing him with my legs spread as he stroked himself. I told sure, not a problem. I repositioned in front of him and spreading my legs on either side of him so if he wanted he could still touch me. I brought both hands down to my pussy and spread my lips for him.

Letting him look closely as he began to pump his cock. I slid one the 2 fingers into myself and pulling them out. I reached down and slid those same 2 fingers into my slippery ass and pumped myself there. He was wild as he stroked his cock in long fast strokes. 

I kept my eyes focused on his, as I used one hand to part my lips and circle my clit while I used my other hand to rub my boobs and pull my nipples. He grunted as I moaned out and said how good this feels, fucking myself under the hot Hawaiian sun. He stopped pumping then started again as the first ribbon of cum streaked from his cock and landed on my tummy. I moved my hand in such a way that his cum wouldn't land anywhere near my pussy but he came so much. His first shot landing on my tummy but the remaining just dribbled from his cock onto his own hand. I was close to my own orgasm so I kept on rubbing my clit and began cumming as I moaned out into the open field. Pumping my pussy and running my fingers over my clit felt so good.

I collapsed again sprawled open exhausted... Michael was on his side watching me as his cousin was on his back repeating 'oh shit' as he began to realize that he just had sex with his cousin fiancé we found out later. It was all good though, no harm no foul I told him as we began to get dressed again. We went back to his house and I cleaned up a bit before Michael and I left. 

Michael told him not to mention this to anyone and he gave his word he wouldn't. I gave him a kiss before we left as he thanked me, he hugged me then hugged Michael and told Michael if we needed anything to call him and he be there for us. Michael said no problem. We took off for the long ride back home.

On the way I was thinking back on what happened and got horny again... bringing myself to another orgasm as Michael drove... then leaning over the seat and sucking his cock as he drove... of course he had to pull over in order to cum in my mouth which is safer as there are cliffs with 200 ft drops just off the roadway. 



Shooting at the Shoot



I'm not sure where the first e-mail came from. I get tons of 'em. Some from the feedback form here on Literotica, some from my profile on AOL. In both places I have my occupation listed as a digital photographer, so I get lots of questions about cameras, personal pics and even a few requests to have some private photos taken.

Very few of those requests ever turn into actual sessions. Either people chicken out, or they don't want to pay me...there are a myriad of different reasons.

This one seemed more legitimate right from the start:

Dear Sir, 

We live right in your neighborhood and are very interested in having some sexy pictures taken of us in our home. 

If you are interested, please e-mail us or call us at your convenience at 561-XXX-XXXX. 

We will work around your schedule and we are very excited about doing this as soon as possible. 

Bob and Terri

People rarely give out a phone number unless they are ready to actually meet and have pictures made, so I called and Terri answered the phone.

"I am so glad you called us so quickly. We are a little nervous, but we've talked about this for a long time and we are both ready. Would you be willing to meet us at Starbucks for a cup of coffee first, so we can make sure you are as nice as you sound?"

That was fine with me, since I like to make sure people are who they say they are before I waltz into someone's home with all my gear. I've considered the possibility that someone would whack me over the head with a baseball bat and take all my equipment.

We setup a time to meet at Starbucks and decided that if we all liked each other, I would follow them back to their home and we would take some pictures. I got their 10 minutes early and started sipping a Venti Drip while I waited. There was no mistaking Bob & Terri as they walked in. Nice looking people. Not drop dead gorgeous, or super model bodies, but the kind of people you'd meet at your neighbors house during a Memorial Day barbeque.

Terri was attractive, hair halfway down her back. Neither the blond, nor the curl appeared to be a gift of nature. She was maybe 10-15 lbs over her ideal weight, average height and was curvaceous in all the right places. Most of all, she had the most incredible lips I had ever seen. The kind of lips that would make Angelina Jolie do an envious doubletake.

Bob was a sturdy looking guy who looked like he'd earned the right to work at a desk by working with hands for a decade or two. Maybe worked construction until he had enough money and gear to start his own contracting business or something of that ilk. They both looked as if they were in their late 30's or early 40's. They had obviously pegged me just as quickly, probably based on the camera bag I had slung over the chair next to me. I stood as they walked over, shook Bob's firm grip and greeted Terri warmly as she sat down. Bob went to grab them a couple of Lattes while we started to chat.

Terri and I were quickly spilling life stories as if we were old friends catching up. By the time Bob returned with the coffee, she and I had already identified two mutual friends and were wondering how it was that we had never met. Bob slid into the conversation just as comfortably, though it was obvious Terri was the chatterbox. It seemed as if Bob had told her when she was comfortable they would go for it, because she turned and whispered in his ear and he smiled broadly, "Okay, Ed, looks like we should head over to our place, if you're okay with that. Terri thinks you're the shit!"

We all laughed and Terri blushed a little. I followed them home and slotted my little Integra in behind their Lexus. "Nice house," I whistled admiringly, "Pay cash for this?"

Bob laughed, "Nah, I work for the company that built this complex. A good deal on the best lot was one of the perks." Their Mediterranean house was immaculate and ornate. I supposed they didn't have young children, a fact supported by the lack of kid pictures around the house. Lots of Bob & Terri and some other adults, but no kids. I did notice a very cool and ancient looking hookah pipe in the corner. "Do you guys smoke from that? Or is it just for show?"

Terri giggled, "We usually don't smoke from THAT one...but I do have a little doobie rolled if you want to smoke. I thought it might help me be more relaxed." So we passed a joint around as Bob confirmed my assumptions, they were in fact childless, by choice. I took a second pull on the joint and was feeling pretty high, "I better chill a little or I'm going to take lousy pictures. I haven't partied much in the last 10 years!" I started unpacking my gear and setting up the small lights I had brought when I felt Terri's hand on my shoulder, "Take one more hit, Ed. I'm sure the pictures will be fine." So I did.

I selected the main sofa in the living room as the focus of our pictorial. I suggested to Bob and Terri that they should put on whatever they wanted to start shooting in as I was pretty much ready to go and I found that shooting some pictures at least partially clothed at the start usually made everyone more relaxed. At this point the last hit of weed really kicked in, I found myself staring at Terri's luscious lips uncontrollably. I think they were high enough so that they didn't notice, but I noticed. I was starting to get a little wigged out about how high I was.

Bob and Terri sat on the sofa looking uncomfortably posed. I suggested maybe they should just make out like a couple of kids in the back seat of a car, "While you guys are doing a little petting, I'll snap some test pictures. You can just keep going slowly until you're comfortable".

I must've shot a couple of dozen of those lips. God they were perfect. Seeing them slowly part and watching her tongue slip between them was almost too much to bear. Suddenly she was looking directly at the camera, her tongue slowly licking her lips. I was so locked in, I didn't even notice they had been fondling each other quite a bit, and they were trying to get my attention.

"Ed? I think we are ready to get down and dirty here", Bob said, as he stood up and pulled his shirt over his head. They both slipped out of their remaining clothes. "I want to get some close up pics of Terri sucking me off".

Bob had a little bit of a gut. His cock was about 3/4s hard and looked to be a little longer and thicker than my own, maybe six or seven inches with a big head on it. Terri was a Rubenesque vision as she kneeled on the floor in front of him. I moved in closer to them and sat just to their right, my knee just inches from Terri's. She looked at me inquisitively, "Should I just start sucking him and let you take pictures?"

"Let's start that way. I'll probably stop you at some point to make you pose a little". So she started rubbing his stiffening cock against those beautiful lips. I was transfixed. I almost forgot to start taking pictures. I kept snapping as she parted those full, red lips and her tongue slid out over her lower lip. She placed the head of his cock on her tongue. Slowly she ran her tongue around his head and sucked it into her mouth. Her lips were stretched wide by his shaft as she fucked his cock faster with her throat. I could hear him groan.

She had him deep in her throat when I said, "Okay hold him there and slowly slip his cock out of your mouth and over your lower lip while staring right at me."

She did as I asked, the result was a perfect picture. Her lips made even puffier by the cock sucking, a thin filament of precum stretching from the cock in her hand to her lower lip. I showed her the image on the LCD on the back of my digital camera, "What do you think, Terri?"

"I think I want to kiss you", she replied, she looked at Bob, "Would that be okay with you honey?"

"It's okay with me if it's okay with Ed"

I didn't respond. I was thinking about my wife, those lips, my wife, those lips...when she leaned in. I guess she took my lack of response for a yes, because she kissed me softly. Her lips parting and her tongue darting between my lips. She still held Bob's hard cock in her hand as she sucked my tongue into her mouth. I could feel my cock getting hard as she worked those fabulous lips on mine, while she simultaneously stroked Bob's cock.

"Don't forget about me baby", Bob demanded and she went back to sucking his cock for a moment, never braking eye contact with me as she milked his rock hard staff in to her mouth. My cock was so hard in my pants it was uncomfortable. Without breaking eye contact I started to get up on my knees to adjust it a little.

She immediately dropped his cock and used both hands to pull my face back down to her. She wanted to make out with me some more. She was really jerking his cock off now, as she sucked my tongue. I could taste his precum on her tongue and lips.

She went back to sucking his cock and I started to suck on her neck and nibble her earlobes. She pulled my head back up to her mouth, but Bob's cock was still there. I started to pull back but she wanted this. She wanted to suck Bob's cock WITH me. She held my mouth firmly against hers and slid his dripping cock head between our passionate kiss. Bob was going berserk. He must have known this was the plan, because he was angling his rod to fuck my mouth. Terri was rubbing my hardon through my pants and sucking on his shaft while he plowed his throbbing meat in and out of my mouth. He started to shoot his load. She must have known the signs, because she held my head on his cock so I took it all. She was whispering in my ear..."Don't swallow it all, baby...I want to suck it off your tongue". And she did just that. Eating her husbands cum out of my mouth.

Bob was spent. He fell back on the sofa and collapsed. "I'm taking a nap...I'll catch up with you two later."

Terri led me upstairs to their bedroom. "Do you like to eat pussy, honey?", she purred as she backed me up towards her bed. I fell back on the bed and scrunched my way up to the headboard.

I do like to eat pussy. I love to eat pussy.

She pulled my pants off, and started rubbing my cock. She straddled me and positioned her knees on either side of my head. Lowering her sweet, pungent, wet pussy onto my mouth. I wriggled my BVDs down to one ankle and kicked them off my throbbing cock finally free of it's restraints. She was rubbing her juice on my face. My tongue was pinned between her clit and my lips and I was vibrating it quickly as she pressed down against my face.

I never even heard Bob come in. I didn't know he was there until I felt him wrap his hand around my cock. "Suck him off, Bob" Terri said, as she spun around to face him. Kepping my pinned beneath her hips. "I want to watch you suck him off."

Bob started to suck me off. He was good at it, too. Damned good at it. Terri came and her pussy juices were streaming down my chin as I started moaning that I was going to cum. Bob was milking my dick hard, he wanted my cum. I felt my balls tighten and I knew I was going to shoot. Bob started sucking furiously. He wanted to eat my fuck juice. I began shooting and he was swallowing. Burying his nose into my pubes and swallowing my shaft into his throat. With each hot spurt his head snapped back and he thrust it back down, urging another spurt out of my pulsating cock. After he had swallowed every drop, he left the room and Terri helped me get dressed. "I have to let you out now", she said, "Bob and I have some serious fucking to do...I hope you understand".

We walked downstairs and my gear had been packed and set by the door. She kissed me one last time with those wonderful lips.

"I had too good a time tonight, I don't think Bob will want me to see you again...but I'm sure someone else will find you through your Literotica profile."

I slowly carried my lights and camera bag to my car. Knowing that my first time at Bob and Terri's had also been my last.



Shooting at the UNO Grill



This story is partly autobiographical. I'll let you guess which parts.

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

"That was a good pizza," said Linda. "Do you feel like desert?" I shook my head. "Nope. Let's hit the store, pick up some Lotto tickets and go home." "OK, but I have to use the restroom. I'll meet you out front."

I signed the check and walked out the front door of the UNO restaurant in Viera, Florida. As I stood outside, I noticed a crappy looking car parked at the west end of the lot. It seemed like a funny place to park. There were plenty of closer spaces. Maybe it was an employee's car, but there were no other cars near it. Then I saw the two guys in the front seat. They were looking my way. The driver pointed at me. He started the car and a puff of brown smoke came out of the tailpipe. My alert level rose a notch or two. 

A minute later, Linda came out and we started toward our car. "Keep an eye on those guys in the Buick over there," I said. "They seemed to react when they saw me." 

She nodded and looked around as we kept walking. 

I had the keys in my left hand and hit the unlock button on the remote. The Buick started to move in our direction. I opened the passenger door and stepped away from the car. Linda and I both turned as the Buick pulled up behind us.

The passenger door opened and a short, skinny guy in a basketball jersey and jeans jumped out with a large folding knife in his hand.. "Gimme your ...," he yelled. That was as far as he got.

Linda was a quarter second quicker on the draw than I was, a fact that was totally lost on the mugger. He was hit with four high-velocity 9mm hollowpoints in the "magic triangle" formed by his nipples and Adams apple. He took a stumbling step to the right and went down hard, smacking his face into the blacktop. He kicked a few times and lay still. 

The driver froze, looking at us with an astonished expression that would have been funny under other circumstances. Then his head snapped around and he floored the gas, made a sharp right and nearly hit a minivan as he slid into the street, heading west. I got the license number. 

Linda and I checked for other attackers and, seeing no one in the parking lot at all, we holstered our guns. I pulled out my cell phone and punched 911.

"911, what is your emergency?" I was taking deep breaths and remembered to speak slowly and keep my voice low. 

"I need to report a shooting," I said. 

"Please hold." I heard a beep or two and another female voice came on. 

"Sheriff's Department dispatch, what is your emergency?" "I need to report a shooting," I said again. 

"What is your location?" she asked. 

"I'm in the parking lot of the Uno Grill on North Wickham, just east of the Interstate." I could hear rapid typing in the background. 

"Is anyone injured?"

"Oh, yeah. I'm pretty sure the mugger's dead." More typing. 

"I have deputies and paramedics on the way. Please stay on the line and wait where you are."

"Roger, dispatch, please inform responding officers that the intended victims are a couple in their mid 60s. I'm a white male, 5'10", 160 lbs with gray hair, wearing a blue Hawaiian shirt and cargo shorts." I paused to let her typing catch up with my monologue. "My wife is a white female, 5'3", 100 lbs with dark hair, wearing a red top and black shorts." 

It's always a good idea to make sure the cops can identify the good guys when they get to the scene. 

"Also, the mugger's partner left in a mid-90s maroon Buick four-door." I gave her the plate number. "He was last seen turning onto I-95 North."

"Thank you, sir; I've passed that information along."

We could hear sirens and a few seconds later emergency vehicles arrived. Fire station 47 was less than a half-mile away. Two paramedics jumped out. One trotted over to us and the other opened a panel in the side of the truck and pulled out a large case. The first guy had the look of a serious iron-pumper. "Are you two OK?" I put my arm around Linda. "We're fine. Can't say the same for him." 

The mugger's shirt had a fair-sized red stain on the back. I hoped the back windows had been up on the Buick. There was nothing except 200 yards of empty sidewalk in the direction we were shooting. I doubted any of our bullets that made it through the mugger would have retained enough velocity to break two car windows, but we certainly didn't want anyone hurt by stray bullets.

More sirens, getting louder. I got out my wallet and extracted my driver's license, my retired-military ID and my concealed weapon permit. Linda opened her purse and got her IDs. Our hands were shaking. Between the two of us, we were packing enough adrenaline to launch a Space Shuttle. 

The first paramedic checked for a pulse. He didn't find one. They were going through their routine when the first deputy rolled up. When he got out of his car, Linda and I breathed sighs of relief.

"Hey, Tommy," I said.

"Jack, Linda? What the hell happened?" 

"Attempted armed robbery. This guy and his partner, the driver, tried to take us." I gestured at the dead man. "He pulled a knife and threatened us. Fearing for our lives, we defended ourselves." 

"OK, good. You folks just keep telling that story and you won't have any trouble." Tommy shook his head. "Man, of all the couples in this county to pick for a mugging, he had to go after you two. Talk about a critical failure of the victim-selection process!" I handed him our IDs. He shuffled through them and smiled. 

The paramedics were packing their equipment. "Nothing we can do for this guy, Deputy," said the big one. "CPR's a waste of time. From the looks of things, his heart and aorta are shredded. He probably died on his way to the ground. We'll pull the bus over there and wait for you to finish." 

Another car came up and parked. The Sheriff got out and walked over. "What's the situation, Deputy?" 

Tommy handed our IDs to the sheriff. "Jack and Linda are friends of mine. We've shot on the same squads in USPSA and IDPA matches at the Malabar, Titusville and Orlando ranges. They're both Master-class shooters." He pointed to the IDs. "Jack's a retired Lieutenant Colonel. They both have carry permits." He cocked his head toward the dead man. "This moron pulled a knife on them and paid the price." 

The Sheriff looked at us. "Are you two still armed?" We nodded. He raised an eyebrow at Tommy and his expression said, "Are you abso-fucking-lutely sure about this?" 

Tommy smiled. "These folks are what the concealed carry law is all about. They're good people. I trust them." 

"OK," said the sheriff. He turned back to us. "If you'll just stand over there in the shade 'till we're through, I'd appreciate it." 

The Crime Scene van arrived and we stood out of the way, talking quietly and holding each other, while the techs marked our empty cases, took pictures and video and collected what little evidence there was. Under the sheriff's direction, they got at least a dozen pics of the knife, lying 6" from the mugger's hand. 

Outside the restaurant, a crowd had gathered. I could see people taking pictures and video with their phones. At least no TV news trucks had shown up. When we got home, I'd have to remember to put a "No Comment, No Trespassing" sign on the screen door and lock it. We had no intention of granting interviews. 

Tommy and the sheriff walked over. "We got the driver," said Tommy . "Seventeen year old kid, driving his mom's car. We ran the plate, got the address and beat him home." Tommy grinned and shook his head. "He actually pulled into the driveway with deputies standing in the yard. Tried to tell them he was out, just driving around. I guess he didn't notice the bullet holes in the back window, not to mention the blood splatter." 

"On a more serious note, the guy you shot was the 28 year old cousin of the driver. He had a long record. Just got out of Starke on an armed robbery conviction. Big suprise there. Career criminal. Never had a real job in his life." 

We watched the EMTs load the dead mugger into the ambulance. There was a large pool of blood on the pavement. I wondered who would clean that up. 

The sheriff handed our IDs to us. "I've got considerable discretion in these matters. As far as I'm concerned, this was a straight-up self defense shooting and that's how it'll be documented. The DA will want your statements, but we won't worry about that tonight. We've got a ton of physical evidence. He'll want you for a lineup if the kid doesn't confess right away. We can charge him as an adult with felony murder and he'll probably plead to manslaughter. He'll get ten years and do maybe three. If we need you, we know where to find you." 

"And, as I'm sure you know," he continued, "under Florida law, you can't be charged with anything in connection with this incident. And the family can't bring a BS 'wrongful death' suit against you. You're in the clear."

He shook our hands. "Sorry this had to happen to you, but you couldn't have done anything else. Those two came here to commit armed robbery and figured an older couple would be an easy target. If they'd attacked anyone else, I might be investigating a double murder right now." 

He handed me his card. "If there's anything you need or anything I can do for you, give me a call." He turned and walked to his car.

Tommy shook our hands. "Same goes for me. Go home, decompress, have a drink or nine. You already know what to expect. You probably won't sleep too well for a while. If you want counseling, we can recommend someone. Will you be at the match on Sunday?" 

Linda smiled at him. "Sure, we were planning on it. We won't let this stop us." She hugged Tommy. "Thanks for your help on this. The fact that you didn't disarm us and the Sheriff backed you up made us feel a lot better." 

"No problem. You take it easy now." He stepped around the blood and got into his car. I opened the car door for Linda and she got in. 

As we drove away, Linda took my hand. "Let's forget the store and the Lotto tickets. I just want to go home, take a shower and have a drink."

"Me too. I was thinking about red wine with rum in it. Lots of rum."

She smiled. "We'll clean the guns in the morning."