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After learning about a friend’s death I needed to get away for a few days. So I packed up my camping gear and headed on a road trip to Pinecrest Lake.

***

When I arrived in Pinecrest, I pulled into Meadowview and drove through the campgrounds until I found a nice spot near some restrooms. I backed in my black GMC Yukon into the parking space and parked. The first thing I did was grab a pen from my glove compartment so I could fill out a reservation form. Then I walked to the entrance of the campgrounds where I checked the rates per night, put money in the envelope and deposited it inside the fee collection post before heading back to my campsite. I took in the fresh wilderness air and the smell of pine trees along the way. It felt good to be back.

Back at my campsite where three crows had gathered near a rock, I clipped part of the reservation form (that I’d torn off) to the marker. I stopped by the men’s restroom to pee and wash my hands. I walked back to my campsite and unloaded my mountain bike from my rack before I unloaded my tent, air mattress, sleeping bag (wrapped in a white scented garbage bag), chairs, ice chest, backpack, hydration pack, duffle bag, boots, and Rubbermaid totes full of tools and supplies. I picked a good level spot to set up my tent and raked the area first before I put down a tarp. It didn’t take me long to set up my yellow two-person tent.

When I was finished, I placed my belongings inside and filled up my air mattress. Just as I was finishing, I noticed an attractive older woman returning to the campsite on the right side of mine with two teenagers. She had light auburn hair (that she was wearing in a ponytail with bangs) and she was wearing a navy blue top, cargo shorts, and tennis shoes. She was also wearing glasses with thick black frames and silver endless hoop earrings. Physically, she was in decent shape. She looked more like a soccer mom who stayed fit by jogging and doing yoga at home. She had to be in her early to mid-forties. I was twenty-eight at the time, but I was always drawn to older women. I watched her and my eyes immediately wandered down to her socks and tennis shoes. And I couldn’t help but wonder what her feet must’ve smelled like. Were they a little dirty but clean-smelling? Or were they sweaty and stinky? I didn’t watch her long before I got back to work settling in.

When I was finished unpacking, I decided to walk down to the nearby convenience store by the lake to buy some bags of ice. As soon as I returned to my campsite, I filled up my ice chest and pulled out a Modelo beer to swig on. I noticed that the campsite on the left side of mine was empty and I was hoping it would stay that way for a while. But an old man in a red pickup truck with a broken taillight soon pulled in. He seemed to be alone and I was just glad that he didn’t appear to have a large family with him.

After cooking up some hot dogs on the grill, I sat at the bench and ate while I watched gray squirrels scurrying around my campsite. That night I changed into some of the clothes I’d be wearing in the morning for my hike, set my iPhone alarm for 5 a.m., and went to bed early.

I woke up in morning when it was still dark out and put on deodorant and changed my shirt. I climbed out of my tent, put on my hiking boots, brushed my teeth and made myself a turkey sandwich which I packed inside my hydration pack along with two bags of chips and two packs of trail mix. I filled up the reservoir or “bladder” with bottled water and threw in some ice cubes from my ice chest.

When I was ready to head out, I followed the road until I came to a side path which led me to one of the roads outside the campgrounds. I passed a number of cabins as I made my way down to the lake. Along the way I thought about stopping to grab a coffee and a Danish pastry, but I decided to munch on trail mix instead.

There was no one at the beach where a number of boats were docked in the water. First, I stopped at a restroom before heading off. Then I hiked counter-clockwise until I reached a clearing. Instead of going on the trail that went around the lake, I went straight. I hiked through the silent woods as kamikaze bugs flew around my face and tried to dive inside my ears. I passed streams and rock formations as I stepped over tree roots along dirt paths until I reached an area that required me to scramble up some rocks. I stopped there to take a breather and a few drinks of water.

When I was ready, I scrambled up to the top where I reached a swimming hole. Since it was a little after 7 a.m. there was no one around and I had the place all to myself. I removed my boots and socks and took off my shirt. I took a quick dip in the cold, refreshing water. After climbing out, I ate my sandwich and snacked on a bag of Chili Cheese Fritos as I listened to the waterfall and swatted at bees that buzzed around my feet and furry legs before I headed back the way I came.

***

As I slowly made my way back along the path by the beach, I Muğla Escort kept my eye open for women with sexy feet. I spotted an attractive older woman wearing flip-flops, sitting in a fold-up camping chair. And the way her feet were positioned, I could see her slightly sandy soles. Another attractive woman about the same age was resting on a beach towel nearby in the sand and she had red painted toes that looked like tasty strawberries in the summer sun.

***

When I returned to the campgrounds, I relaxed for a few hours as I read a copy of Walden. The old man next to me was playing with a remote control monster truck which I found quite distracting. While I was sitting in my chair under the shade of a tree, I saw the woman with auburn hair walking over from her campsite. She was wearing a gray top, cargo shorts, and tennis shoes.

“Hi, neighbor,” she said with a smile.

“Hi,” I said.

“I’m Tammy.”

“Dan.”

“I just wanted to ask you if our radio is too loud.”

“I can’t even hear it.”

“Okay. Just let us know if you need us to turn it down.”

“I appreciate that,” I said as she turned and walked back to her campsite.

Twenty minutes later, I decided to walk down to the lake. I set up my chair in the sand next to a tree with roots growing like natural seats. I sat down, untied my boots and removed them along with my socks. I put in my headphones and listened to my iPod as I worked on a crossword puzzle. But I was too distracted by all the moms walking around in flip-flops and bare feet. For a foot fetishist, it was like being surrounded by topless beauties. To my left, a woman was resting on a towel and I couldn’t take my eyes off her wrinkled, sandy soles. She was with a man who I assumed was her husband because he was holding a baby. When she stood up and walked off, I directed my attention back to my crossword puzzle. After a half an hour, I’d filled it up with the words “feet,” “toes,” “arches,” and, “soles.”

It was starting to heat up so I took off my shirt and grabbed some sunscreen to put on my face, arms, chest, and back. As I walked down to the water I checked the pockets of my swim trunks to make sure I hadn’t left my phone in one of them.

After going for a quick dip in the water, I returned to my seat and draped my beach towel around me. As I let my body dry off, I glanced up and saw the woman from my neighboring campsite walking with the teenage girl she was camping with. She was wearing flip-flops which I was delighted to see. She didn’t look my way at all and I was a little saddened to see her continue walking with the girl along the beach instead of settling in near me so I could get a good look at her feet and toes. I watched her as I flipped through a car magazine that I was pretending to read until she was completely out of view, and I fantasized about what her soles would taste like on my tongue.

***

That night I lay asleep in my tent, wrapped up inside my sleeping bag like a soft cocoon, I could hear the woman at her campsite talking with the teenagers. She brought up drama classes at one point and why they should both give them a shot.

When they retired to their tent for the night, I overheard the woman say, “Did you guys remember to wash your feet?” And the boy responded with, “Yeah, did you?” The girl laughed before the woman said, “I did and I just put on fresh socks.”

I couldn’t sleep that night and I woke up in the morning horny and craving the smell and taste of gorgeous mature feet. I stuck my hand down my sweatpants and rubbed my dick through my boxer briefs until I was rock hard.

When I climbed out of my tent, I brushed my teeth and stopped by the restrooms to pee and wash my face.

I decided to spend my morning going for a bike ride. My body was sore all over, but it felt good to get on my bike again.

Afterwards, I ate cereal and relaxed until lunchtime. After eating a sandwich, I went down to the lake for a few hours, but I didn’t go swimming this time.

When I returned to my campsite, I noticed that Tammy was cleaning pots at her campsite under a blue canopy and her niece and nephew weren’t around. She was wearing a light purple top, cargo shorts, and tennis shoes. I waited until she was finished before I worked up the nerve to approach her.

“Hi,” I said as she turned around.

“Oh, hi,” she said with a smile. “I hope we weren’t being too loud last night.”

“Not at all. It’s a good thing to be reminded to wash my feet before going to bed.”

The woman laughed and said, “You heard that? Well, I’m sharing a tent with two teenagers. One of them takes after their auntie and has not so good smelling feet,” she said as she scrunched up her nose and I could feel myself becoming aroused.

“Oh, I don’t believe that.”

“You don’t?” I shook my head. “Just ask my niece and nephew. Or better yet, I’ll let you come inside my tent so you can have a whiff to see for yourself,” she said with Muğla Escort Bayan a smirk as she nodded her head towards her tent. I know she’s only messing with me, I thought. But I hope she keeps it up. “Just let us know if we get out of hand. Did you sleep well?”

“I didn’t. You?” I asked but I could barely focus on her words.

“I did. At least it wasn’t too cold. But it’s supposed to get colder over the next few days. Are you here alone or are you here with a group?”

“I came alone.”

“I’ve done that many times,” she said.

“Your niece and nephew look like they’re having a lot of fun with you.”

“Thank you. That’s what I hope. I’m planning on starting dinner in a little bit. You’re welcome to join us if you like. I’m making spaghetti.”

“Nice. But that’s okay,” I said. “I brought plenty of food with me.”

“Well, if you change your mind, we’d loved to have you over.”

“I still don’t believe you,” I said, trying to steer the conversation back to her feet.

“About what?”

“What you mentioned before about your…” I had trouble saying the word “feet.”

“About my what?” she asked as she raised one eyebrow.

“Your feet.”

“Oh, I was just teasing you, dear. I do it to my nephew all the time. He hates it when I flick my dirty socks at him,” she said with a laugh. “He’s lucky I don’t rub my stinky feet all over his pillow for being a brat to me.”

“That would be evil,” I said.

“What would be really evil is if I replace his pillow with my and my niece’s dirty socks. I’m sure he’d love that. It was a prank I used to pull on my brothers when we were kids.”

“That’s a good one. But it would work better with smelly socks.”

“Oh, I’ve got plenty of those. If I don’t wash my feet every night, they’d stink to high heaven.”

“I’m sure they’re fine,” I said.

“You really don’t believe me, do you?” I shook my head. “There’s a reason I wear cotton socks. I also disinfect my shoes and put deodorant on my feeties.”

“Deodorant?” She nodded. “Maybe you do have foot odor.”

“I think he’s starting to get it,” she said as if we weren’t alone.

“I hope I’m not making you feel uncomfortable by speaking this way.”

“I like people with a sense of humor and I never take myself too seriously.”

“That’s good. I’m the same way.”

“Now step inside my tent so you can smell my feet,” she said and I nearly fell over.

“What?”

“You don’t sound convinced, so I think you should smell them. Maybe it’ll teach you a lesson not to question a woman like me.” Am I hearing her correctly? I thought. As she moved towards her blue four-person tent, I realized she was being serious. I watched as she unzipped her tent door, untied her tennis shoes, removed them and set them down by the door next to a couple of pairs of tennis shoes and flip-flops. Then she stepped inside the tent in her grey ankle socks. “Come on in. Don’t be shy.” I hesitated a few moments before I approached her tent. I removed my hiking boots and set them down next to her tennis shoes. I felt a rush of excitement as I climbed inside her neatly kept tent. She was sitting down in a fold-up camping chair inside. Smart, I thought. I zipped the door closed and sat down cross-legged in front of her. Outside I could hear a bee buzzing around the top of the tent.

“Where are your niece and nephew?” I asked.

“They went bike riding. They won’t be back for another hour or so,” she said as she peeled off her socks and tossed them aside

“I see,” I said and I was happy to see that her toes were painted mint green.

“I love your polish.”

“Thank you. I had my feet done before coming up here. I try to go with a different shade of green each year. Last year I did pine green.” I stared at her lovely bare feet and cute, evenly spaced toes. They looked so suckable even though they were slightly dirty. When she raised her right foot, I got a glimpse of her soft, pink and slightly orange sole with visible dirt on the surface of her skin. “Well?”

“Right,” I said. For some reason, I hesitated a few moments before I moved my face in closer to her foot. As I held it in my hands, I pressed my nose into her toes and sniffed deeply and she let out a loud laugh.

“Sorry. You look so adorable with my stinky foot in your face.”

“It’s not stinky,” I said as I breathed in the vinegary scent of her toes with a hint of sweat, old shoes, and dirt, which combined made my cock twitch and rise in my cargo shorts.

“Oh, it is, dear. I’m sure of it. You’re just trying to be nice.” I continued sniffing the space underneath her toes, desperately wanting to take them into my hungry mouth. “It’s so obvious.”

“What’s obvious?” I asked in between sniffs.

“You clearly have a foot fetish.”

“Is it really that obvious?”

“You’ve been eyeing me and my pretty feet since you arrived. But I’ve been eyeing you too. You have a really nice physique, Escort Muğla dear.”

“Thank you.”

“I saw you with your shirt off at the lake,” she said with a smirk. “You should walk around like that more often. Isn’t it hot in here? Maybe you should take your shirt off now.” I didn’t hesitate to take my shirt off and toss it aside. “That’s better. Now keep sniffing.” I lost track of time inhaling her sharp, earthy scent.

After a couple of minutes, she let me sniff her left foot and it smelled a little stronger than her right. As she crossed her legs and rested both of her feet on my face, I caressed her calves. Her legs felt smooth to the touch and I was expecting them to be a bit hairy.

“Good thing I brought my epilator or else I’d have Sasquatch legs,” she said with a chuckle.

“I wouldn’t mind,” I said as I continued caressing her calves and smelling her feet. She wiggled her toes and spread them out for me so I could really get my nose between them and it drove me crazy.

After a few moments, she rested one foot on my chest and caressed my cheek with her other foot before planting them both on my face. I loved the feeling of her bare, unwashed feet smothering me and I would’ve done anything to taste them in my mouth. At one point, she placed one foot behind the back of my neck and pressed her other foot into my face.

“I love how excited this is making you. It looks like you’re pitching a tent of your own in your shorts.” With my nose buried between her toes, she let me fall into footie heaven.

After a few minutes, I could feel her other foot rubbing my hairy thigh. “Sometimes I like my feet as dirty as I like my men.” I begged her with my eyes for a taste until I could feel her toes tracing my lips. “Open wide.” I closed my eyes and when I opened my mouth, I felt her big toe on my tongue. And I could taste the dirt as I took it deeper into my mouth. I sucked it slowly and swirled my tongue around the tip of her toenail. She began to moan softly as my tongue snaked between her toes. I sucked on each one gently until they were covered in my saliva. “That’s it. Clean my toes. Clean my dirty, stinky toes. Good boy.”

I continued sucking her toes and cleaning each one. The taste of salt and dirt filled my mouth and made me have to swallow frequently.

“Don’t forget about my other foot,” she said as she rested her foot on my thigh and fed me her other toes. I could feel my dick growing harder as I worked my mouth and tongue over each toe. I sucked on her big toe as she began rubbing herself through her shorts. “You really know how to suck toes, dear. Now I want you to clean the bottoms.” As I held both of her feet up, I buried my face in her dirty soles. I sniffed them hard and kissed them and sucked on the balls of her feet as she wrapped her toes around my nose. I licked under her toe pads a bit before I began lapping her soles and tasting her sweat. “That feels so good.” I let my tongue glide up her soles until they were glistening wet. And I couldn’t resist slipping my tongue between her each of her toes some more.

After worshiping her for almost twenty minutes, she wiped her saliva covered feet off on my trimmed beard and hairy chest.

“While we’re at it, there’s something I always wanted to try,” she said as she bit on her lower lip and teased my bulge with her toes. “Pull your cock out.” I unzipped my shorts, pulled out my hard, erect cock and began playing with it. “Very nice.” I stretched out my legs and lay flat on the tent floor. She rubbed her soles over my abs and teased my cock with her toes as I caressed the tops of her feet. I moaned loudly as she gripped my cock between her insteps and began stroking it up and down.

After a couple of minutes, she stopped and stepped on my balls gently. Then she caressed my shaft before she began stroking my cock again as I admired and played with her toes. Her soles looked so much softer after being properly tongue bathed. She stroked harder and faster and it drove me insane. She stopped momentarily to pick up one of her dirty socks which she tossed at my face. And I held it up to my nose and breathed into it as she stroked me to the edge. When I couldn’t last any longer, my cock erupted, spewing warm semen all over my lower abs. As my breathing slowed down, she rubbed my cock slower and slower until my muscles relaxed.

“That was amazing,” I said in between breaths.

“Dirty boy,” she said as she bit down on her lower lip. “Now clean up your mess,” she said as she reached into her backpack and pulled out some clean socks which she handed to me. I wiped myself off and cleaned up her feet as well. Then I watched as she inspected her soles and gave them a few sniffs. “I can still smell them a bit,” she said as she coughed. “But I’m happy they’re clean.”

As I put my shirt back on and zipped up my shorts, she put her socks back on.

“I’ve never given anyone a footjob before.”

“Well, you could’ve fooled me because you definitely have skills with your feet,” I said.

“Thank you. I could say the same about you and your tongue.” I unzipped the tent door and climb out. I turned my head back around when I heard her say, “Wait. I want to ask you something.”

“Sure. What is it?”

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I had been working for a low budget, amateur style porn studio for about a year, S.K. Flix. We were pretty much 3 guys and a camcorder, and we took requests and made whatever we thought people would buy. That’s how we got into vomit movies. There was a demand for them, and no one else was making them, so we figured we’d give it a go, if we could find any willing girls.

The first ‘script’ we came up with was Carsick Christie. Pretty straight forward. The basic idea was that a girl would be riding in a car with us, announce that she wasn’t feeling well, and after holding it down for a few more miles, get out of the car and vomit for the camera. Stupid plot, but whatever. It’s not like that matters.

Dave, the founder of S.K. Flix was in charge of casting Christie; I just showed up with my camcorder and a full tank of gas. We’d been worried we wouldn’t be able to find a hot enough girl willing to make herself puke, but it was surprisingly easy. She was happy to do that rather than fuck. I don’t know where he found ‘Christie’ but she was decent enough- about 5’4″ with a fake tan and bleached out blonde hair that was still brown at the roots. She swore she never did anything like this, but I doubted that. Probably some sort of sex worker with a drug habit to support. She was wearing a tight blue dress that barely covered her pink bra, and she had on cheap looking high heels.

We got into the car and started driving, and I started filming. Sometimes having to stock footage comes in handy. She sat in the back with roger, but I made sure not to get his face in the shot.

“So how does this work?” Christie asked.

“Well,” Dave explained. “We should get some footage of you eating first. We’re going to get some fast food and we’ll film you eating a couple burgers or something. Then you can take this medication that’ll make you puke. So while we’re waiting for it to happen you should say some stuff like ‘oh I don’t feel so good’ or ‘I feel really car sick’. And when you’re ready to throw up, we’ll pull over, you get out and puke on the ground, and that’s that. Then you get your money.”

“Yeah, that sounds good,” she said.

I couldn’t believe she was so calm about it. Like she was just doing any other job. She must really need to money.

“Okay lets get some good footage. Say, “I’m so hungry, lets get something to eat”” Dave instructed.

Christie said it back.

“I don’t know” roger said to Christie, in his terrible acting voice. “Eating on a long drive can make you carsick.”

“Oh no I’m fine. I never get carsick. I can eat so much and still feel fine.” She said. Perfect. Muğla Escort She was a pro.

We got her three hamburgers and filmed her slowly eating all of them as we drove.

“Okay, now its time for the ipecac.” Dave said, and I got it out of the glove compartment and poured her a large dose in a plastic medicine cup. She drank it and followed it with two water bottles.

“Do you want me to start talking about how I feel sick?” she asked.

“Yeah,” roger said.

“Oh,” Christie said, feigning illness. “I don’t feel so good. I feel kind of carsick.”

“I told you not to eat those burgers.” Roger said.

“Oh yeah, you were right. I feel pretty nauseous.” Christie said, clutching her stomach. It was the worst acting I had ever seen.

“What did you eat earlier today?”

“Well before the burgers, I actually already had lunch and breakfast,” she said. She was speaking naturally again, not fake acting for the camera. “I had a breakfast sandwich and some orange juice, and for lunch I had a salad.”

“Oh wow, so a lot is going to come up” roger said.

“Yeah,” Christie laughed. “Hey, how long does it take for this stuff to work?”

“It says 15 minutes on the bottle,” I told her.

After that she sat quietly for a few minutes. Then her face began to look uncomfortable and I could tell she was starting to feel the effects.

“How are you doing?” Dave asked her.

“Not so good. Ugh… it just really feels like… my stomach is just….” she was obviously really feeling sick, since she didn’t sound overly dramatic and fake anymore. This was the real nausea. “Is this stuff going to make everything come up?” she groaned.

“Yeah. But stop talking about the stuff, because in the film you’re just supposed to be car sick.”

After a few more minutes she was grasping her stomach. “Oh my god…” she moaned. “This was a mistake. I can feel everything in my stomach churning. What the heck is in this stuff?”

Dave sighed. “Stop talking about the ipecac. It’s ruining the film.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, breathing heavily. “It’s just hard to focus on the film when I feel this… I- I- just didn’t realize it would make me feel so sick.”

“Of course it makes you feel sick. It has to make you vomit.” Dave said, annoyed.

“Yeah, but it’s worse than normal,” she said. “There’s so much pressure in my stomach.” she swallowed roughly, and licked her dry lips, and leaned back in her seat. “I guess there has to be a lot of pressure, to make everything in my stomach come out…” she sighed heavily. “It’s only been ten minutes, but Muğla Escort Bayan I think its going to happen pretty soon.”

“No, just wait. It’s going to take a little longer.” Dave said. “Oh, I know, say something about how your dress is too tight, and then take it off. So that when we film you getting sick, you’ll be in your underwear.”

Christie nodded. She was sweating, and she kept swallowing, but she managed to stammer, “Oh boy, this dress is so tight on my stomach. I should take it off…” and she lifted her arms weakly to pull it over her head. At this point, she was too sick to pretend to be sexy. It was like she didn’t have the energy, and she wasn’t a good enough actress to hide it.

She slumped in her seat, in her hot pink bra and panties. I noticed, to my shock, how her stomach bulged with the three burgers and several bottles of water we’d made her consume. With her swollen stomach, there would definitely be a lot of vomit.

Christie pressed her hand to her pink lips, and for a moment, I thought she was going to be sick, ten minutes early. But instead she parted her lips and let out a startling sound.

“URRRRRRRPPP.” A loud, degusting burp.

“I’m so sorry,” she whimpered. “I’m so embarrassed. It’s just there’s so much pressure, and I don’t think I can help it- ERRUUUUP” She was interrupted as her stomach forced up another loud belch.

“I’m- oh my gosh- I’m so…” she stammered, trying to cover her mouth. “It just feels a lot better to get it out, you know?”

“That’s fine,” Dave said. “Feel free to let them out if it helps.”

“Yes,” Christie stammered. “I think it need to let them out. The burping is really helping with the nausea.” She breathed heavily for a few moments, then, once again: “URRRRRP” Only this one was shorter.

Suddenly, she opened her mouth and let out another noise. A small, chocked gag.

“Hm,” Dave said. “It hasn’t been that long, but it seems like you might get sick soon.”

I looked back at Christie, and realized that was definitely going to be the case. She was too distracted to answer, as she tried to swallow and keep the contents of her stomach down.

Roger moved away from her as she began gagging uncontrollably.

Christie began make several short “errp errrp errrrp” noises as she tried to fight the gagging, and her eyes filled with tears.

“Pull over,” I said to Dave.

“What?” He said.

But it was too late. I watched as Christie pressed her hands to her mouth, went “BLERRRRRRRRRR” and threw up all over her clasping hands.

“Oh NO!” Dave shouted, realizing Escort Muğla Christie hadn’t gotten out of the car like she was supposed to.

“BLURRRRRRRRRRRRRP” Christie vomited another wave all over herself. It gushed down her face in a thick stream and flowed down her cheat, over her hot pink bra.

“It’s already in the car” I said. “At least make sure the scene is good.”

Christie nodded, and wait for the next wave, she managed to look at the camera and say, “Oh gosh, I sure was carsick. Look how much I puked up already.”

“Yeah,” Roger said, petting her hair. “Good girl. See if you can get the rest of it up.”

Christie’s eyes watered. “It’s definitely going to come u-” but she was cut off as she puked again. This gush spewed out of her mouth and landed all over her bare lap, staining her pink underwear.

“I think that’s all the burgers,” she muttered. “Now it’s just the salad… and then it will be the breakfast sandwich.” She gagged, then burped up a smaller gush of puke. This one showed undigested particles of lettuce, meaning she was right and had moved on to getting her previous lunch up.

Finally, covered in puke, she leaned over and vomited one last gush onto her own lap. “That’s my breakfast,” she explained weakly, looking humiliated and defeated.

But it wasn’t over for poor Christie. She continued to gag, belch, and dry heave.

Dave pulled over to the side of the road. Luckily we were on a somewhat deserted highway at this point, and there weren’t many people around.

“When is the dry heaving going to stop?” Christie asked bitterly.

“When you drink some water. The way it works is that you need to have some water and throw that up too. You’re not quite done.”

Christie sniffed, and wiped her face and got out of the car. She downed three bottles of water.

“This time you’ll probably vomit a lot faster. It should come right back up.”

Christie nodded silently.

Sure enough, she opened her mouth and gushed up a stream of water like a fountain. It was relatively clear, too. She got a moment of relief, then leaned over and heaved up the final gush, coughing and sputtering as she puked it on the pavement.

“Good girl,” roger said, patting her own the back. I didn’t know why he was bothering with this fake persona, when the shoot had already gone so wrong.

Dave got a towel out of the trunk and Christie wiped her puke off herself.

She got back into the car, and we rode silently. Finally she said, “I’m sorry about the car.”

Dave didn’t say anything.

“Do I still get paid?”

“No.” Dave said. “We’re going to use that money to get the car dealt with. If you want to get paid, you’ll have to come back an film another scene for us. This one wont be in the car though.”

“I really don’t want to puke again…” Christie said. “But I guess I really need the money.”

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

I don’t know if it’s COSMO magazine or the Internet or where she gets these ideas from but ..

OK.

We’re curled up on the couch like little bunnies watching some girly movie and she starts talking smack.

‘Hey D, hand me the popcorn – cock ornament.’

Here we go…… She’s smirking at me.

ME: ‘ What’s the magic word? hmm? – cum guzzler?’

Smack in the back of the head

Her: (loud) THE MAGIC WORD IS NOW! Don’t make me bust your ass bitch!!!’

O RLY?

Me: Don’t make me GAG YOU WITH COCK AND MAKE YOU MY COCK ORNAMENT – er, COCK ORNAMENT!

This goes on for 10 minutes.

You know, foreplay.

She beat me by a second, I swear , I was gonna yank her over my knee and just WAIL on that ass. I really was. I was just stretching my legs, you know – getting ready.

I think I was laughing at her last retort and was in the middle of saying something smart like like ‘pfffft – who do you think you’re fucking kidding bitch? I’m like fucking BRIER RABBIT over here – you know the story? – don’t throw me in the brier patch said’

-OWWWWWWWWWWWYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHWTF!!!

And that was it. I never saw it coming. I got cut off mid-sentence

She had snuck her fingers into my hair and looped my hair around her fist and – so fast it just stunned me – she slipped an arm across my neck in a choke hold and in one smooth motion – stepped up and off the couch from behind me (I was laying in her lap) and YANKED ME RIGHT OFF the couch and onto the floor.

She’s 5’2 and maybe a buck and a quarter soaking wet – and she took Mersin Escort me straight to the floor faster than you can say WTF!

She had the toy stashed under the couch and it was in her hand and no joke – before you could COUNT TO THREE she had yanked my shorts down, spit where the sun don’t shine , yelled ‘ READY WHORE? HUH? CUZ HERE IT COMES! and just RAMMED IT in.

It’s her fat red jelly cock that she loved fucking herself silly with.

That’s when I realized.

Yeah. I’m thinking maybe I really pissed her off at this point.

She’s got my hair in her fist and she’s RANTING at me calling me “WHORE CUNT BITCH! FUCK YOU! HOW DO YOU LIKE IT IN YOUR FUCKING ASS!”

She’s WHACKING ME with – what? her hairbrush?

Way to improvise babe!

And so on. It was just a fucking blur.

After about 5 minutes she yanks it out and throws it across the room in the general direction of the kitchen sink, misses completely, and knocks a bottle of wine off the counter which promptly falls to the floor and just EXPLODES.

She yells “CLEAN THIS SHIT UP – FUCKING WHORE!!!” and goes and takes a shower.

Leaving me sitting on the floor. Rubbing my ass ( She REALLY hit me with her hairbrush – wtf?)

Whoooooaaaaaaa. What the fuck just happened?

She’s in the shower a really long time…

She gets out of the shower and she has that a mischievous smirk ….

She looks around and smiles. Of course, everything’s cleaned up. Shut up.

I’m wondering what’s coming next. It only takes a few minutes and she starts up with me.

She’s Mersin Escort Bayan having a lot of fun at this point.

Oh Yeah. She was thoroughly enjoying herself. She’s (so help me)

SINGING.

She’s walking around the house in her little singsong voice ‘ LA-LA-La-lA – D got ASS – fucked, la-la-la-la D got ASS raped – la – la -l a- la nan-ner nan-er’.

“WHO just got Buttfucked? – D Did!”

“WHO just got ASS-RAPED? – D DID!”

I’m just sitting there shaking my head and grinning like Tom Cruise because – WELL what the fuck else am I going to do? I just got punk’d.

She got her turn an hour later.

She’s going on and on with this for an hour now.

Making up the lyrics as she goes and she’s giggling lalalala ha ha….tossing clothes in the wash.

She’s banging around making all kinds of noise SINGING REALLY FUCKING LOUD.

I’m TRYING to watch some fucking Battlestar Galactica.

So yeah, Now I’m getting annoyed. You don’t fuck with my BSG.

Out of the corner of my eye I see her reaching up for the detergent.

She’s stretching and reaching and making little noises to get my attention.

So. of course. I look over.

She’s wearing one of my beaters and she’s leaning WAY over the machine …she’s WAY up on her tippytoes and her ass is just suddenly WAY THE FUCK OUT THERE .

First thing I realize: she’s got nothing on underneath. I can see everything.

2nd thing. I’m rock hard. CLICK – Just that fast.

This girl really just knew how to push all my buttons. She just did it for Escort Mersin me.

She knows all she has to do to get fucked like an animal is to let me see her ass like that.

She KNOWS THIS. We’ve talked about it. I’ve told her.

Keep your ass covered….because the sight of her ass wiggling around in the open air…..

I can’t guarantee your safety baby. I might just have to fuck you to death.

Wait a second. Is that what I think it is?

Oh no. Oh, holy fucking Jesus. NO WAY.

WAY. She’s got her little red rubber ponytail butt plug buried all the way in her ass.

Did she just wiggle her fucking ass at me?

CLICK my eyes meet hers. She’s looking me right in the eye with that little smile….. another wiggle wiggle wiggle.

Her lips are moving but she’s not actually speaking but I can read her from across the room….

whatcha gonna do? huh? whatcha gonna do? you ain’t gonna do shit…

I don’t remember my feet touching the ground but it’s 15 feet from the couch to the hall and the washing machine. I had to touch the ground. I’m sure of it.

She got it right there on the washing machine.

Oh yes. Yes she did. I was there. I saw me doing it to her.

I might have been a little out of my mind. I’m normally very low key and gentle until the time calls for me not to be.

And this was one of those times. I was transformed into a roaring savage.

I’m ranting at her “open your hole whore!”.

I made her reach back with both hands and hold herself wide open.

And then I spread her even wider.

She’s in midair and her feet dangling over the floor as I’m just grabbing onto her hips and holding her in midair…pounding…..

She leaned all the way forward and stuck her butt way up high in the air…

And smiled.

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Chapter Fourteen: Home, Bitter Home

Evenings were hell, a return to loneliness, a self-imposed solitary confinement. Returning home was the equivalent of lowering myself into a dark insect infested pit. It was a deep well with a dank and slimy interior. I had no interests or hobbies and now no appetite outside Biprods Incorporated. I existed solely for Ms. Handlesmen and no one, nor anything else mattered. I didn’t want anything else to occupy my mind. I tried to leave my thoughts at the company whenever my body returned to this mausoleum, the coffin of Dracula. I left my mind kneeling at the feet of my new found lover where it could do no harm. Evenings were a purgatory the Catholic Church could not purge from existence, even by edict.

Every evening became a carbon copy of the last. I returned home about seven o’clock, or after midnight if I was lucky. I always undressed and stepped into an alternating hot and cold shower. I took long showers, bathing myself as best I could, and Ms. Handlesmen was always there with me, watching from over my shoulder. I couldn’t look at myself in the mirror without seeing her. She had developed into my conscience, my superego, and thankfully ruled over me while we were separated.

Bathing was a challenge, a trial by fire. Controlling my hands as they soaped my body down was an ordeal in self-control, the troubled acceptance of denial and bouts with madness. Once I’d been rendered hairless the madness became an arduous free fall into insanity’s vertigo, a never ending tail-spin.

Like the vision of an icon imprinted on a mystics mind, I was zeroing in on a clear and concise vision of Ms. Handlesmen. An ethereal representation of the one I adore, my guiding principle and regulator of my self-control. So clear became my thoughts of her I could see and feel her standing near me at almost all times, and the lapses, those quick moments of indiscretion were diminishing rapidly. I soon took to conversing with my icon, talking aloud, asking her permission before I acted.

My smooth hairless condition accented the awareness I had of myself and exaggerated my sensations. It was exhilarating, as if I were touching myself for the first time, but when it came to my behind the extreme discomfort slowed me down. Here the pain yet battered me with memories I wanted to forget, those intense preludes to perfect endings.

I turned so the water hit my back and cascaded down over my buttocks, but even that proved painful beyond measure. Being extremely gentle, I landed my palms on the burning cheeks of my sore behind. My hot buttocks sizzled and turned the water cold in comparison. Never had any part of me been so inflamed. I lathered my cheeks carefully, with tediously slow round motions, as tears welled in my eyes. Like the pounding of several wild rock drummers gone berserk, the memories of the spankings hammered away in my head.

I had to reset the temperature of the water a couple of times. I had to have colder and colder water washing over my cheeks. As they fizzed and hissed I looked down at my cock. It was as hard as ever and I dreaded having to bathe it. I feared the thought of touching it. In its presence, I was a doubtful unsure little boy. I barely had the courage to look at it, much less lather it without stroking it. Like a naughty satyr, it called me to play with the mystical tune of a Pied Piper. It demanded pleasure, screamed to be petted, yanked, whacked and brought to completion. Like a frightened child I looked down at it in awe and respect, a large pearl of arousal even now beading from its head.

Thank goodness Ms. Handlesmen was there to help, in my Muğla Escort minds eye, with me, with her suggestions and warnings. She reminded me of the claim she had laid on me. How could I even consider upsetting things now and why? I was allowed to bathe and dry her toy, but nothing more. It was not my organ, but the toy of my lover. I simply carried it around for her, or should I say, it had me carry it around for her. Even it had more control over me then I did.

I lathered my hands while watching it twitch and vibrate in anticipation. Long strands of lubrication oozed from it’s head and swung to the tub. ‘This wasn’t going to be easy’ I thought. I placed the soap aside and bit on my lower lip nervously. With a vibrant mental picture of Ms. Handlesmen firmly established I moved my soaped hands down and caught my restive organ. I engulfed the machine, balls and all and stood still for a moment. I had the tavern bull by the horns and called to Ms. Handlesmen for help.

Even in my mind, Ms. Handlesmen proved a strong forceful mistress who took control. Under her tutelage, I gingerly soaped and lathered my entire hard-on. Everything seemed to be going fine until I accidentally felt what my hands were doing. It rapidly became so difficult to tell between scrubbing and stroking, I slipped mentally. But my mental mistress came roaring back like a tidal wave and reminded me about the rules, and about being careful. She reminded me that I carried something dear to her. Yes, I was to do a good job. I was to wash its head, around its neck, along its length and between every wrinkle of my scrotum. I was to think of her while I bathed, to think of what it was I held in my hands. I was not to play with her toy, and it was driving me crazy.

Her toy swelled with a surge of fresh blood while in my hands, bloated with an illicit excitement I knew better then to enjoy or even contemplate. I needed to work fast, before my mind found itself entrapped, before my mind surrendered to my libido and base instincts. I adjusted so the water hit my abdomen and I could rinse. Before I knew it, I was free of soap and I caught myself dawdling. ‘Was I tuning an instrument?’ I thought in a fit of whimsy. I pulled up and away, like a boy who’d just been caught with his hands in the cookie jar. I could see and feel Ms. Handlesmen’s stern look and apologized to my minds rendition. I begged aloud, bringing my heart-felt meaning to life. My words echoed about the stall in recurring reinforcement, an energy-collecting mantra.

I finished rinsing the rest of my body, turned off the water and stepped from the shower. Stepping onto a towel I came face to face with my reflection. It starred back at me from a full length mirror tacked to my bathroom door. I stood starring with mouth open, bewildered by what I saw and completely unable to believe it. My reflection reminded me of a painting decorating the wall of Ms. Handlesmen’s office.

I was nude and hairless, with tears yet seeping from the corners of my eyes and a hard-on jutting out from between my legs like a pole in need of a flag. It was the saddest of scenes, it was the most exciting of scenes. I saw myself as a fragile creature, an animal recently swept from the jungle. I had been freshly bagged and quickly tamed by a great white huntress, and now I belonged to her. She didn’t keep me in a cage or spread on a floor before a fireplace, though I wished she had. My enslavement was even more inhibiting, a refined self-destruction.

I fetched a towel and commenced drying myself. I was careful to stay away from my penis, and went to pains insuring the towel ends didn’t brush Muğla Escort Bayan against it. Everything excited him, even looking at myself in the mirror. I lived balancing on a tight rope stretched taut over a deep chasm, the floor of which I imagined to be cluttered with the remains of dead lovers, those that failed Ms. Handlesmen.

I walked out into my living room, towel around my waist and stopped to look around. The home I’d grown up in seemed strangely alien. It was a place without meaning, where I no longer belonged. Spending time here, away from Ms. Handlesmen, had become distressing to say the least and after so few days. My home was a vestige of the past I wanted to forget. Looking around, scanning a room that had changed little since my mom’s departure, was a stark reminder of sadder times. I was working frantically at erasing those memories. I needed to rid the dwelling of all her things, of all the sorrowful mementos. I needed to crate and carton it all, then throw it all in the trash, the lake, or an incinerator would be better.

Nothing in this house was of any interest to me now, I only cared for Ms. Handlesmen. I no longer enjoyed reading or watching television, which for years was my sole companion, my sole means of solace. I no longer cared for the radio, which also comforted me in my bleakest hours. I walked across the room and into my kitchen.

It was only ten o’clock, meaning it was eleven hours before I’d be seeing Ms. Handlesmen again, eleven hours in Gehenna. I went to the refrigerator and opened the door. There before me lay all the foods I had enjoyed for so many years, milk, peanut butter, strawberry jam, half a loaf of white bread, and a half eaten plate of canned Spaghetti-O’s. An open can of freestone peaches, a pint of now shriveled blueberries, a stick of butter, and other delicacies. At one time I would have opened this door and began eating, but food could no longer satisfy my hunger, it could no longer fill my guts emptiness. The hunger that now gnawed at my body was beyond foods help. I suffered in the grips of a hunger that ripped at my heart and sucked on my manhood. It was an unquenchable thirst that kept me up at night, tossing and turning in a restless half sleep that no amount of cold water could pacify.

I slammed the door and stood wondering what to do next. I couldn’t think of a thing, except begin tomorrow. I wished there was some way for me to bypass the nights, the hours between midnight and five a.m.. I moved out of the kitchen in thought and through my living room, turning out lights as I traveled. I entered my bedroom and collapsed onto the bed. My boner caused me to flip over onto my back.

I could reach my television and clicked it on. It’s flickering light had always been a good friend. I didn’t care what was on, whether it was Lie Witness News or an inane talk show, because I didn’t turn the sound loud enough to hear anyway. I enjoyed the warmth of the flickering light, the sudden flashes, sudden darkness, the intervals that helped the shadows dance like frisky sheep all around me. These were old friends who stayed with me as I cried myself to sleep and they were often here when I awoke. Like with so many other things, they represented a habit I accepted without reason.

My bed was its comfortable mess, a nest shaped to hold me. I rolled under my covers and into its center, on my side, buried and ready to travel. I grabbed my worn torn down pillow in my arms, firmed it into a ball and sunk my head into it, while visions of Ms. Handlesmen bobbed around in my head.

I felt the bed move as she slipped into it, as she slid Escort Muğla under the covers to be near me. I felt her warmth and breathed in her scent. I moaned in pleasure as she snuggled up to me, her chest and belly pressing to mine, our thighs and lips coming together. One arm slipped around me, her hand landing on my back, its fingers walking up and down my spine. Her other arm lay between us, its hand taking me, its fingers curling themselves around my organ. Both hands pulled me closer and our bodies melted together. I was in heaven, gripped by an angel.

Our lips united in a most luscious way, mouths open, tongues swirling together. I inhaled her breathes and drank down her saliva as our bodies played against each other. I slipped both my arms around her and grasped her tight. She rolled onto her back, taking me along with her.

She held my hard-on in a tight grip and pulled me over, on top of her. Her legs parted and I slipped between them as she guided my member to it’s proper place. She moved the head of my cock up and down against her, between her sweet nether lips. I could feel their moisture as they parted in acceptance. I enjoyed the sensuous music our squishing union produced. Up and down deeper and deeper she drew my cock on and in. It was ecstasy, as her mouth sucked on my tongue, her sex suck on my cocks head.

I bucked in a wild involuntary way, but she stayed in control, allowing me little. I wallowed on top of her like a captured male butterfly seeking to mate. I was trying to take advantage, but unable to do little more then flutter in her grasp. Her breasts and belly were a soft bed I rolled upon, her lips a maddening duo cooing and chewing on me from both ends. I was lost in the mystery of our embrace, a willing student and eager pupil, ready… willing… able?

I flapped my tongue about in her mouth and fantasized about forcing it down her throat. I tried working my boner into her sex, pressing to enter the place I belonged. She wrapped her legs around my waist, her lips around my tongue and a hand around my manhood. I was on the brink of my first sexual union and Ms. Handlesmen began screaming. Louder and louder her screams became as I withered in her grip. Her screams became a loud bell, a high pitched ringing until my eyes snapped open to the sounds of my alarm clock.

I was lying on my pillow, a thumb from one hand in my mouth, my other hand wrapped around my hard-on. I was humping in my fist, but stopped the instant I realized my indiscretion. I reached for and hit the button of my alarm clock, then collapsed in a heaving delirious sweat. My dreams were exceeding reality and I no longer could distinguish one from the other.

I gripped my pillow with both my arms and called to Ms. Handlesmen for help. My desires were emotions so horrendous I was reduced to sobbing under their influence. My hard-on throbbed, my balls were swollen and ached for relief, but there was nothing I dared do. I took some deep breaths, caught my sobs and forced myself to rouse. I shook the slumber off and struggled up, swinging my legs from the bed. My feet hit the floor and I sat there looking around. I was still in the Bastille, still alone, still in heat.

I’d left another large wet spot on the sheets, under where my waist had rested. The spot had grown larger every day, but by evening it would be dry. I thought sure one day I would awaken in a river of lubrication, drowning because I couldn’t swim. I stretched, with my arms in the air and my legs kicking. I yawned and shook myself in an attempt to chase my stupor. I survived another night and it looked like another beautiful morning, which was sure to equate into another wonderful day. With only two hours before seeing the woman I loved, things were looking brighter. I wondered if Ms. Handlesmen dreamt of me, if she was as eager to see me as I was to see her. I wondered what she had in store for me today.

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~That which is essential is invisible to the eye~
–Saint Exupery, The Little Prince

Marion strode into the lobby of the Hotel Regis wearing her knock off, gray, Armani business suit and carrying a brown, leather attache case. She tapped the gold, ornate bell on the reception desk smartly to draw the clerk’s attention and asked if there were any messages for Marion Day. The clerk–bald, staid, wearing John Lennon glasses–went to check his message file and returned bearing an envelope with her name inscribed upon it.

As she walked toward an elevator, she peeled open the envelope with her thumbnail. Inside was a keycard with its room number.

She exited the elevator on the twentieth floor. Unobserved now, she walked, with a more relaxed gait, down the long, plush-carpeted hall. Its textured walls bore a design reminiscent of a vibrant fleurage by William Morris.

She stopped when she came to a door that bore the same number as the card, opened it at the electronic buzz and went inside. She snapped open her attache case on the bed and took out a leather harness with a bit-gag and metal tongue depressor; attached were a blindfold in the shape of a domino and a pair of hard-shelled sound mufflers. There were, also, two pair of shinny, chrome handcuffs and a blonde wig. She took the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign and stuck the keycard to the back of it with tape that she had brought along. She hung it on the outside door knob, closed the door and locked it.

Quickly, she took off her clothes.

When she was naked she put on the wig and strapped the harness to her head. The metal bit grated between her teeth. The depressor clamped her tongue down firmly. She would be able to whimper, but speech would be impossible. She tightened the muffs over her ears; soft rubber caskets encircled the rims. All but the loudest of sounds would be blocked from her.

When she finished adjusting the muffs securely, the room suddenly took on an eerie silence. The whispering of the air-conditioner, which she had not noticed before, was now gone, but she could still feel its cooling breath on her naked flesh. The inner sounds of her own Marmaris Escort breathing became omnipresent. It was as if her head were stuck inside a giant shell.

She placed the keys to the cuffs on the nightstand next to the bed, then fixed the blindfold in place. She could no longer see or hear or speak.

Lastly, she clamped the handcuffs to her wrists and ankles: right wrist, right ankle; left wrist, left ankle.

She shivered. Already she could feel herself becoming wet. Her nipples were hard and her breathing was becoming rapid and shallow.

It was danger that excited her. The unknown. Placing herself utterly in the hands of strangers. Naked. Totally at their mercy. It was a thrill nothing else could come close to.

Now she waited. Naked prey for whoever entered.

* * * * *

Time seemed to stand still as if it were another sense being denied her. She hadn’t been told how long she would have to wait. Anticipation was making her more aroused. The pull of the handcuffs on her wrists and ankles was becoming painful. Yet it was that pain, the reality of it, that she sought. If you cannot believe in your fantasy, it cannot excite. It takes pain to create the necessary illusion of reality.

She first became aware that someone else was in the room when she felt the bed being jarred.

Her heart went pitapat. She was conscious of her vulnerability–excitingly so. Her legs were spread. Her shaved center was fully exposed, fully accessible.

A finger poked her head. Slowly it traced a line across the perimeter of her upper lip, then moved down to encircle the thicker, lower lip. A hand cupped her right breast and squeezed it. The tips of a thumb and finger pinched her nipple like a caliper. Softly–then hard. She whimpered at the pain. The hand moved to her other tit and squeezed it, also. Her left nipple was pinched even harder. She tried to turn away, but the hand pressed against her chest was too strong.

She groaned deeply.

The hand moved down her firm, trembling belly. Giving it some taunting, little pats. A wet finger tip prodded her navel, making a fucking Marmaris Escort Bayan motion. It moved farther down to within an inch of her slit, paused, made a right-angled turn and veered off to her left. She felt two fingers points being walked up the soft inside of her thigh. It was as if a Lilliputian were out for a walkabout on her naked body and she were a Lady Gulliver.

The walking fingers changed into a warm palm which rested for a moment on the cap of her knee, then slid back down her smooth, taut thigh and cupped her cunt like a cod piece. A finger teased the swollen, tender lips of her labia. It moved into her slit. She could feel her wetness. She trembled uncontrollably as the finger became two and began pushing into her cunt. They entered her easily. They fucked her; slowly at first, in and out, then faster. She hunched her ass up meeting their thrusts with her own. The fingers sank deeply within her and began a rapid, whipping motion from side to side. The thumb was angled up so that it stubbed against her engorged clit, masturbating her into an ass-writhing frenzy.

Just as she was on the verge of cumming, the fingers withdrew from her cunt. For several agonizing minutes she was left unmolested, heart pounding. Then she felt the side of the bed depress as a heavy weight settled on it. There were several jarring bounces, then she felt hands on her knees, weight being balanced; hairy thighs brushed against the insides of her smooth legs, as the man positioned himself to fuck her.

He forced her knees painfully up to her tits. The head of his cock wobbled up and down the furrow of her wet slit until it found her hole and entered with a deft shove. Broken guttural sounds vibrated around in her throat, she tensed with lurid anticipation as his thick shaft slid into her, splitting her cunt wide. He thrusts were hard, deliberately cruel. She clamped her teeth against the bit, snarling as a sharp stab of pain pierced her to the core. She could feel the cock throbbing and swelling deep within her. She shuddered.

While he kept his cock balls-deep in her cunt, he mouthed first one tit Escort Marmaris then the other; licking, biting and sucking on the nipples until they felt as large and as hard as thimbles. He gripped them between his teeth, tugging on them, stretching them, then letting them snap back. He pulled his cock out leaving just the head in, then thrust it back into her, faster and harder.

Tingling sensations coursed throughout her body, building in frequency and intensity…until…she exploded in a hot, raging ecstasy.

Dazed by a wanton heat, she felt him stretch his arm out, as if he were reaching for something, then there was a sudden, burning sting across her left breast. He covered the sting with his mouth and began sucking greedily. At the same time, his body tensed, and he rammed his cock deep into her. He held it in tight while his body quivered and jerked with spasms.

Time passed.

Finally, he raised himself, slowly pulling his cock out.

The bed heaved, like a small boat, as he got off.

She estimated that another thirty minutes passed before he removed the handcuffs. She stretched her cramped legs out slowly trying to ease the pain. Her numb feet and hands radiated pinpoints of fire as blood began to rush back into them.

He had, no doubt, showered and dressed while she had remained awkwardly and painfully bound. She could smell the sweet scent of lilac soap about him.

The prearranged instructions were to wait ten minutes after being uncuffed before taking off the harness. She waited, since her fingers were too numb to use anyway. When she did take the harness off, she saw a three inch slash across her left breast. It wasn’t deep and would heal quickly, but it had bled enough to stain the bed cover and leave red traces on her firm flesh.

There were teeth marks where he had sucked her blood.

There were several, crisp, one-hundred dollar bills on the nightstand.

* * *

When Arthur Day got home that evening, he smelled blueberry muffins baking in the oven. Little Suzy was helping her mommy set the table.

He stood behind Marion as she grated carrots at the sink and kissed her softly on the nape of her neck.

“How did it go at work?” she asked, raising her hand to caress his cheek. She arched her back against him, then tensed. There was the sweet smell of lilac about him.

“Aw,” he replied, squeezing her tightly around the waist, “same o same o.”

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You know what’s cool?

Being eighteen years old, a senior in high school, but having a twenty-two year old girlfriend who is about to finish college and on top of that, she’s a sexy Latina most guys would only dream of.

You know what’s not cool?

Being a heterosexual, legal adult by age male, but having a three inch cock when it’s fully erect and having a 44-inch ass.

That’s the situation I find myself in.

I’m a boy with a small dick and a huge ass, and I hate it.

Why do I hate it so much? Well, outside of struggling to find pants that fit right and knocking things over all the time, people are always touching it. At school, it’s nothing but a big, wobbling target for other students as girls and sometimes the boys would slap it or comment on it. At home, my mom is always teasing me about it and patting it. When my girlfriend is in town from university, she can’t seem to take her hands off of it and always talks about how she wishes hers was that big, even though her butt is pretty big.

It’s not like I’m out of shape. I mean, I’m not muscular with a six pack, but I am nowhere near being anything resembling fat or overweight. I just have a big girly butt. Even as a kid, my butt was always disproportionate from the rest of my body and stuck out. I’d always overhear other parents saying stuff about it. As a result of this, I grew to resent it to this day.

So, as I stand here, looking in the mirror at it, trying to hide it in a pair of black sweatpants, I just gave up all hope on it. Even in these baggy pants, my butt stuck Marmaris Escort out like two basketballs.

*Knock! Knock!*

I looked down at my phone and saw the time.

12:30 PM

Just like her, always on time.

I left my room and made my way to the living room, feeling my huge butt swaying behind me with every step. I got to the front door and opened it to reveal the tanned skinned, light brown eyed, 5’5 fit and toned brunette that I had been waiting on to arrive. As soon as her eyes laid on me, she dropped her suitcase in my mom’s house and wrapped her arms around me, engulfing me in a tight and warm embrace.

“There’s my boy,” she smiled as I put my arms around her and rested my chin on her head. Suddenly, I felt her strong hands ease down to my backside and grab both cheeks, her fingers poking into it as she giggled, “And there’s his ass.”

“Hi, Vanessa,” I moved my chin from her head and looked down at her.

She gazed up, her full lips curving upwards and returned, “Hi, Jordan.”

Vanessa leaned up a bit as I met her halfway leaning down and we kissed each other passionately, our tongues brushing against each other for the first time in four months.

We pulled away slowly, but her hands remained on my butt the entire time, but just simply rested there now. “I missed you, baby.”

“Did you miss me or did you miss my ass?” I joked.

“I’d answer that, but your feelings might get hurt,” she smirked. She then moved one hand to close the door behind her. A devious smile appeared on her face Marmaris Escort Bayan as she hungrily growled, “Now turn around. I want to see it.”

I did as told, and slowly turned around to fulfill her request of wanting to see my plump rump. I even arched my back a bit and it was as if you could hear her drool hitting the floor. I felt her hands hold my waist and her body press against my ass.

“The roles are usually reversed,” I pointed out.

“Not when the guy has an ass this big,” she laughed and put her nails on the waistband on my pants. “Your mom isn’t home yet, right?”

“No,” I answered. “She doesn’t get home until 2.”

“Good, enough time to do what I want to do,” Vanessa growled as she smacked my butt and sent waves through it.

Embarrassed and my face turning red, I brought up, “Vanessa, we’ve been through this. My cock is small. I can’t satis…”

Before I could finish my humiliating tell, she cut me off, “Oh, don’t worry, I’m not interested in your cock today. You’re about to lose your virginity, but not your dick virginity.”

A little confused, I was about to ask her what she meant, but before I could, my sweatpants were pulled down to my knees and I felt her hand rubbing across my bare ass. It was a first for it, but my little cock grew a bit from the touch of her hand on my skin. I couldn’t help but let out a soft moan.

She giggled as I felt her kneel behind me and return, “Oh, you’re moaning from that? Let’s see how you react to this.”

Suddenly, my butt cheeks were pulled Escort Marmaris apart and I felt her wet tongue enter between them and the presured feeling sent a wave of surprise and actual pleasure over my body. My eyes grew large as I stuttered, “Wha…what are you doing?”

Her tongue came out for a moment to respond, “Tonguing this fat ass.”

Afterwards, it went right back in and roamed around my asshole. My head dropped and my eyes closed as I felt her mouth’s wetnes in my ass, but I was loving it. It was strange because I never experienced it, but it felt so good. My back actually arched a bit more to give her a better angle.

Vanessa’s face pressed into my ass, I felt her lips kissing my hole and I groaned from the feeling. I used one hand to spread my asshole open and used the other to place my erected dick between my index finger and thumb, pulling on it.

She blew bubbles into my butt, and that sent a sensational feeling over my body as a long moan escaped me. I felt like she wanted to talk, but she didn’t want to take her face out of my ass. I let my heavy butt cheek go and began grinding my ass against her face, tugging my dick harder and harder.

I heard my girlfriend’s muffled laughs as my huge ass swallowed her face, her lips now kissing and blowing right on my asshole as my tiny cock couldn’t take anymore.

A long moan came from me as a bit of white liquid jizzed from my dick. I was short of breath as it fell onto the floor under me, my baby nutsack draining from her face in ny butt. It was like I wad in a different world from the feeling. Too bad I was in too much of one to notice what had gone on just behind us.

“WHAT THE FUCK!?”

My head turned, still bent over and Vanessa in too much of a trance to move her face from my ass and I was startled from who I saw from the position I was in.

“MOM!?”

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
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Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

She arrived at his door five minutes early and contemplated when to ring the bell. She was unaccustomed with being on time for anything, let alone being early. Her heart beat heavy with excitement and the skin on her forearms dully ached. Finally one of her arms reached out and rang the bell.

He opened the door with a genuine expression of pleasure. What was she expecting? A somber intense glare? Maybe not quite that but he looked like a child opening a present, void of anything else except delight. She has never seen that expression on him before.

“Come in.” He says. There it is, she thinks, that depth of voice. It sooths her heightened nerves. “Please take off your shirt.” The door closes.

Already? She thinks. Her core clenches.

“What a beautiful form you have.” His fingers trace along her left breast on the outside of the bra. “Off with this too.” He grins and waits.

She worries he thinks her fat without any clothes. Her breasts too weighed down, not perky enough. Unable to resist him though, she overcomes her doubts.

Her flesh responds to the cool air and her nipples pucker. His hand reaches towards them and she sucks in a quick breath.

“It’s alright. The initial sensation might overwhelm but my touch will sooth it. All of you, in time.”

Contact.

Hardened callused skin against her own over-sensitized flesh.

Her mouth opens in a small gasp, it’s the only way she can get enough air in. Raggedly she exhales.

“You feel magnificent. I am honored to possess you.” His fingers graze her cheek and lightly brush over her lower lip. “Let us begin.”

The thick black leather collar is padded on the inside with a fine grain leather in purple. The sound of the buckle being set, metal clinking against metal, effects them both. It is as if she does not know what comes next or what has ever happened before this moment. He can only stare at the contrast between her pale pink skin and the collar she let him claim her with.

“And now for the chain.” The clasp weighs heavily on the back of her neck. She is acutely aware of the cool metal running down the side of her naked kneeling body.

“I have someone to introduce you to. His name is Mr. Bovine.” He strokes her hair with great affection, loving the soft strands warmed from her heat. “He will be your caregiver. And you will treat him as your master.”

Had she agreed to this? Part of her feels confused and almost betrayed. Yet what did it matter anymore? Her master wanted her to be well taken care of and she thinks it best to view it as a sign of respect.

“Mr. Bovine is going to give you a gift. Show him and me how much it pleases you.”

Mr. Bovine had entered the room at his introduction and now stands in front of her. His hands go to his belt, then his zipper. He removes his semi erect penis and then pulls out his balls.

She looks up at her master with a hint of a smile and a pleading look. He nods.

She grins. Mr. Bovine has a beautiful uncut dick and she wants to feel it in her mouth. Leaning forward, she licks the tip of Mr. Bovine’s penis as he strokes his shaft. His hips rock forward and she takes his head into her eager wet mouth. He continues stroking at the base while she works her tongue under his length, sucking him in and out.

Her master encourages with pressure on the back of her head. Moaning, she forces herself to gag on his now fully-grown member. Viscous spit drips from the tip when she pulls back.

Her skin tingles and her neck stretches to receive Mr. Bovine’s cock fully in her mouth. She imagines what her master thinks of her tribute. Her nipples and pussy lips ache dully at the thought that she might be pleasing him. Humming with anticipation she squeezes her pussy again and again, rocking forward on her knees.

She takes the wet rod down again to the back of her throat. This time she suctions her lips as the head comes out, making a popping sound. Her master’s hand clamps in her hair.

She knows she has pleased him.

“Enough.” Mr. Bovine continues to stroke his shaft while she breathes heavily, staring up at her master. “You don’t have to do much to persuade me. I think it Mardin Escort is time to sate my need for you.”

“Mr. Bovine, if you would… please get the room ready.”

He moves to stand in front of her then crouches down almost to eye level. Her eyes sparkle and her cheeks are flush with color. He strokes her shoulder, then down the side of her arm. Then his hand splays over her hanging breast, fingers circling around her nipple. Her nipple cries out in delight when he squeezes it and she gasps. He releases her nipple yet continues to rub over it with his thumb. She lowers her lids letting his attentions wash sensation over her.

He kisses her then, his tongue caressing hers. She bites down on it and his guttural response had her pussy throbbing.

In the room a cushioned matt lays before her and she is asked to get on all fours. Assuming the position she spreads her legs and flexes her back. She wants what they offer.

He slaps her ass in appreciation. One of his fingers hits her puffy pussy lips. She watches intently as he licks her juices off his finger.

Please fuck me master, she hopes.

“Thank you for presenting so nicely. What an excellent brood bitch you are.”

With a smile in her voice she says, “I’m glad I please you master.”

He attaches leather cuffs to her biceps and lower thighs. Bars follow, being hooked between the cuffs, allowing for only minimal movement.

He traces his hands along her inner thighs feeling the dew of her desire. He licks the flesh of her ass cheek and his teeth graze along her rump over to her sides.

She can’t contain the shudder that passes through her.

He whispers to her, “the spreader bars on your legs and your arms are to hobble you. And this strap around your waist is for me to hold on to while I ride you.”

As he leans back he sees her pussy visibly clench and he can’t help from slapping her ass once more before adjusting the strap. “Your pussy will be filled and sated soon. Be patience.”

Two thin chains run down from her collar to attach to the waist strap. One along her spine and the other between her breasts.

Heightened awareness of each item touching her skin floods her senses. She’s conscious of being here, in this moment, and giving herself to her master but nothing else seems to exist. There is no thought beyond each moment. She is consumed with lust and fulfillment.

“Mr. Bovine, please hand me the suctions.”

A humming noise begins as he places the cups against her hanging nipples. They immediately grab hold.

Her ragged sigh sends pulses straight to his cock.

Pulling her nipples in undulating waves, the machine milks her. Nothing comes from them yet. Her master has great plans for large breasts though. He wants to induce lactation and feed on her teats.

She rocks into the sensation of being milked, moaning even louder. Her mind goes completely blank, her body rewarding her with pleasure. She flexes her back deeper, forward and down, pushing her breasts into the pressure. From behind her she hears an oath and grunting.

He is overcome by her display of abandon. What fate has gifted him this divine treasure of a slut? Her cunt drips even more than what he felt moments earlier. Her passion fuels his own ardor.

She feels a large rough finger rub against her wet slit. It pops into her waiting warmth, pushing deep.

He plays with her passage, glorying in how freely her juices flow and the way she pushes back into his hand. He travels down to her sensitive nub and his butterfly caresses have her body quaking in response.

She feels him settling behind her. And then he’s pushing the tip of his cock inside

her. Pussy lips spread lusciously around his hard cock, glistening and coating him as he penetrates her.

Waves of clenching around his cock making him groan. Her core is almost too hot but the gratification of being enveloped by her moist fresh pushes him further in. Slight sensation at the tip of his cock has him wondering if he is bottoming out inside her. The idea stiffens his cock more and his hips began pounding into her lush ass.

She feels bliss. Her Mardin Escort Bayan aching core is being filled by her master. His forceful strokes hit his balls against her clit and moist smacking sounds echoed the pace of his thrusts.

“What a dutiful cunt. So eager and wet for her master.”

His hands grab hold of the belt and it digs into her sides.

“I can feel your pussy clenching down on my cock you hot bitch in heat.” One hand comes down hard on her ass to leave a red mark in its wake. “You want my cum inside you?”

Dry as her throat is she manages to get out, “yes, master. I want to feel your cock quake inside my pussy. Feel your cum dripping out of me.”

His thrusts grow faster and stronger. He grabs her hair hard, arching her back into him, the angle allowing his cock deeper.

She can feel herself beginning to fall off some precipice. The feeling of her master’s cock so far inside of her while her nipples are relentlessly tortured by the milking machine unravels her. Her vocalizations grow louder and more urgent.

“Yes, master! Please, master! I love your big hard cock fucking me!”

He laughs like an evil jester, “Cum for me cunt. Let me feel your pussy spasm around my cock.”

She obeys.

His insistent strokes into her pulsing pussy keeps her on a plateau and quickly another orgasm takes her. The sensation of rippling pressure around his cock engulfs him. He cums hard into her eager flesh. Riding out both of their pleasure, he continues to stroke.

The gentle rocking of his cock inside her has his cum dripping out of her hole, over her folds, and down her leg. She turns to look at her master and said, “thank you.”

“You are quite welcome… but you still have more to thank me for.”

Unable to fully comprehend his meaning and still enjoying the after shocks she rocks back into him.

“Ah yes. I can tell you like penetration the best. My brood bitch needs another cock while her milking continues.” He motions for Mr. Bovine to come over to him.

“Mr. Bovine, my bitch needs another hard cock inside her if you don’t mind.” He pulls out and away from her cunt, moving around to kneel in front of her.

She feels Mr. Bovine’s cock head breach her pussy lips as her master directs her mouth to his soaked soft cock. She is a brood bitch now. She will service her master and anyone else he asks her to. Her cunt will weep at the chance to be penetrated. And soon she will be producing milk for her master too. Her nipples wonderfully respond to her thoughts by sending pleasure straight to her core.

“It would be my pleasure Sir.” Mr. Bovine says already thrusting inside her pussy. The cum still leaking out of her each time he pushes in.

Her master caresses the sides of her face, holding her hair back as she cleans off their juices from his cock. She can’t resist pushing back into Mr. Bovine and she can tell both men enjoy seeing her do it. Mr. Bovine reciprocates with more vigor and her master coos to her saying, “yes, my good bitch. Push back on it. Feel that cock move inside your exquisite cunt.”

She loves pleasing him. The pleasure of being fucked from behind while her master’s soft cock rests in her mouth, listening to his enjoyment, sends her into another climax. As Mr. Bovine rides it out, continuing to stroke inside her, her breasts begin to tingle. The suction continues to stretch her nipples mercilessly.

“Did she cum around your cock Mr. Bovine?” He guesses from her writhing body and the firmer pressure around his cock in her mouth. Her noises too he notices had become more urgent and primal.

“The sensation is amazing sir. I almost popped off inside of her just then.” Mr. Bovine has slowed down his movements and rests fully penetrating her for a few seconds. “I can still feel her pussy pulsing sir.”

He chuckles knowing just the feeling, “I’d prefer, Mr. Bovine, if you’d trade places with me before you ejaculate. I want to be inside her cunt again and I’d love to watch her swallow your load.” As he speaks to Mr. Bovine he takes her chin into his palm and forces her head up so he can look at her.

She knows what he has asked of Escort Mardin her. They both know he doesn’t have to demand anything, she has heard his preference and will strive to please him. Seeing the way he looked at her as he said the words acts like a drug. She gives him freely what she would never to anyone else. He is the only worthy one.

Again she feels her master settle behind her. His hands trace around her ass and thighs. The cum that has dripped out of her pussy rubs in like lotion. She can hear him inhaling deeply and knows he is taking in her scent.

Startling, she strains in her bonds. His tongue is licking her folds.

“How can you be so wet that your ass is smeared in your own juices? I have to taste that too.” And his tongue licks up her engorged slit to her puckered asshole. He flicks over it lightly then circles round and round, imagining breaching it with his cock greased from only the copious fluids of her pussy. More than enough, he thinks, to gain entry safely.

Her thoughts drift with the sensations of her master glorifying in her response. And her pussy still craves appeasement and more penetration, even after three orgasms, his administrations keep her body on edge.

“Master, I’m begging you to put your cock in my waiting, hungry, dripping pussy.”

Slam!

“Ugh.” His renewed cock fills her to the brim. And the feeling of touching something at his tip is there again. Amazing to feel completely sheathed within her he thinks.

His thrusts quicken.

She knows how sore her nipples will be later but the combination of pleasure and pain drives her wild. The acute discomfort in her nipples acts as grounding to the heaven of his hard shaft moving within her. She feels used and objectified. She is restrained on all fours, hobbled to only inches of movement, being bred and milked like an animal in heat. And she loves it. She wonders if her body will ever be sated when her master is near. And then the slap of callused flesh on her ass opens her eyes to the glistening cock right in front of her.

“Mr. Bovine needs release. Let’s help him, shall we?” His voice is frayed, strained a little, she thinks.

He is trying to hold on. All he wants to do is jerk his seed deep within her warm wet walls again. But first, he will see her take it in her mouth from Mr. Bovine.

Her lush plump lips surround Mr. Bovine’s shaft. She eagerly takes him deep as his hips thrust towards her face.

“I’m already so close sir, do you want me to cum down her throat?”

Her master is caught up in the visual. He feels her soft wet folds clamping down as he pushes into them. Her head bobs back and forth partly from his thrusts and those of Mr. Bovine. She’s strapped down, restrained with his leather, a victim to his desire, yet it is he who is quickly succumbing to her. He leans forward, still pumping into her, grabs her hair in his fist and whispers, “take his cum. Swallow it while I watch and ride you.”

In a louder voice to Mr. Bovine, “Now.”

With little time wasted Mr. Bovine erupts into her waiting mouth. She’s gagging slightly from all that’s happening to her. The deluge of liquid slides down her throat except for a few strands that leak out the side. She swallows and gasps, then licks her lips. Mr. Bovine shoves his semi erect penis past her lips for one last indulgence. She takes him in gladly, licking the drop off his tip.

All around her, he overpowers her, still mounting her from behind. Long powerful strokes threaten to unravel her. An arm from either side moves underneath her, grabbing her breasts. The suction cups frustrate his attempts.

“Mr. Bovine, the machine!”

A minor reprieve for her nipples as the suction abates before his hands clamp down.

“Cum for your master” he franticly pleads into her ear. His head is up by her shoulders and his mouth ravages her sensitive skin. Teeth clamp down and she’s lost. Her hips roll back into his cock and she cries out.

“That’s right bitch, milk my cock.” He bites down harder, sure to leave a mark.

“Fuck me master, yes.” She keeps rolling her hips and pushing back into his. “I want your seed deep inside me. Use me for your pleasure.”

His thighs tighten and his back arcs, he’s holding on to her breasts with a steel grip. And then he’s groaning in release.

She can feel his cock twitch in her abused pussy. The base flexes at her lips. He licks and nibbles her ear and she clenches around him.

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

I still couldn’t believe this was really happening.

Less than an hour ago, my girlfriend and I had been on a night out, enjoying a few drinks at a night club that was pretty popular among college students such as ourselves. It being a Friday, there’d of course been plenty of older twenty- and thirty-somethings around as well, wage slaves, gig workers and corporate lackies alike letting off some steam – and burning some hard-earned cash. One of the party-goers, however, hadn’t quite fit the bill.

I’d already noticed her earlier in the evening, eyeing me up from the bar. Or well, ‘eating me up with her eyes’ was probably a more accurate way of putting it. I was of course no stranger to getting lustful gazes from older ladies, but usually, they only served to make my skin crawl. This particular mature woman, however, had appeared to belong solidly in the ‘sexy milf’ category, her deep, fleshy cleavage on full display as she’d leaned over the counter and given her bountiful chest a quick shake. There was no doubt in my mind the show had been meant specifically for me, the chesty blonde’s sly grin indicating she knew she’d gotten my attention, just like she’d wanted. Though given the apparent size and composition of the rack she’d been flaunting from across the room, I would’ve challenged any red-blooded male not to look.

Now, she was no longer in the bloom of youth to be sure, probably in her mid-forties if I had to take a guess. But the blonde’s physique, which was wrapped in a snug, almost skin-tight maroon cocktail dress, looked plenty tempting enough. Not quite the perfect hour hourglass figure, I thought, but featuring ample, luxurious curves in all the right places without looking flabby or out of shape. In one word, voluptuous.

Was I not already taken, I might’ve actually been tempted to walk over and chat her up. Mature women weren’t really my thing in general, but this particular housewife was obviously game, and seemed to have a body built for sex. Ideal for a no strings attached one-night stand, or even a more recurring ‘booty call’ type of arrangement. Hot and steamy action for casual fun. Definitely attractive.

But since I WAS very much seeing someone, all that had been purely academic. My girlfriend, a college sophomore like me, was more than a match for the blonde in the looks department; her taut but curvaceous figure, sensual, dusky olive skin and beautiful face, which was topped by silky smooth black hair, made for one positively smokey and seductive package. On top of all that, she also had a pair of truly magnificent breasts. They were very firm, pert and round, and fairly sizable to boot. Sabrina was a total babe.

Befitting those slightly exotic, dark looks, my girlfriend did have a bit of a temper as well. So pissing her off by making eyes with some big-titted milf was a definite no-go.

Oddly enough the blonde-haired mature had seemed to agree, laying off a bit once she’d caught my attention and waiting patiently until Sabrina eventually had to use the restroom. The minute she’d seen my girlfriend get up and head off, however, the cougar had pounced. Almost literally. My eyes had followed her approach all the way from the bar, the mature woman swaying her full hips deliberately and making those substantial assets on her chest jiggle with every step. Her eyes had been locked into mine the whole while, and though I hadn’t quite realized it at the time – my brain having been somewhat short on blood due certain developments elsewhere in my body – the blonde had had the look of a carnivore stalking its prey as she’d traipsed toward me.

To cut the story short, Sabrina had found the shapely forty-something practically sitting on my lap, flicking her curly strawberry-blonde hair and leaning forward to let her hot breath land against my neck as she rubbed those large, ample mounds into me. She’d had me hard in seconds. Patricia, as she’d introduced herself, was not exactly shy, and knew exactly where her greatest appeal laid. I hadn’t noticed my girlfriend’s arrival at first, the cougar’s highly provocative actions and deep, fleshy cleavage having distracted me quite effectively. To say Patricia had come over to flirt would’ve been an understatement.

In any case, there’d been some fireworks as you might imagine, Sabrina quickly yanking the blonde off me and proceeding to reward her brazenness with a slap or two for good measure. The older woman had been remarkably quick to recover from the sudden interruption and given back as good as she got, managing to catch my girlfriend with a nasty-looking open palmed blow to the temple before I’d had time to get in between them. Even then, it had been a struggle to pull the two hellcats apart, and it’d taken a mighty chest-bump, Patricia ramming her big, meaty rack against Sabrina’s and causing the surprised brunette to recoil backwards right into the seat of the opposite booth (luckily unoccupied at the time) to bring about a cease in the hostilities.

As my girlfriend had lain there, sprawled on the bench seat, gathering her bearings, the stacked mature woman had issued a challenge Marmaris Escort to her. In no uncertain terms, she’d demanded that the brunette either prove she was woman enough to keep me – by facing her tit-to-tit in a proper match – or, and I quote, ‘slink off home to mommy so you can stuff a bit more padding into that bra’. Sabrina’s top was somewhat less revealing than the blonde’s, but still displayed a fair amount of cleavage, and made it easy to discern that her assets weren’t quite as substantial as Patricia’s. Her dark eyes blazing with furious indignation, my girlfriend had accepted immediately.

So here we were. In Sabrina’s dorm room, at her sorority house, getting ready to decide my fate. It felt odd to be a trophy to be fought over, I have to admit. But not necessarily unpleasant. My member was still at half mast.

The brunette had calmed down significantly from her earlier, rather enraged demeanor, and was regarding the blonde-haired woman with a cold, catty or derisive rather than angry expression. Frankly, I thought Sabrina looked a bit snooty just then.

Though given how much more prone to jealousy and neediness the girl I’d dated before her, Samantha, had been, I reckoned a bit of haughtiness was more than tolerable. Especially in these circumstances.

My girlfriend was resting her hands on her hips, her head held high as she ran her eyes up and down the older female’s body, a contemptuous smirk marring her otherwise very attractive face. Sabrina was still wearing the same outfit as before; a black, flimsy silk shirt with a close fit and rather generous neckline, plus a pair of even more snug-looking jeans. Compared to Patricia, she was pretty much dressed like a nun.

The full-figured blonde’s cocktail dress looked somewhat redder in the bright lighting, its shiny surface sparkling slightly, and seemed to cling to her like a second skin. Its straps were thin, and the front provided quite an eyeful into the cougar’s lavish, creamy cleavage. The dress looked almost obscene, and probably would’ve been a disaster, did its wearer not carry it so well. While Patricia was not exactly slender or lean, she did have nice proportions. The phrase ‘thicker than a bowl of oatmeal’ came to mind.

My girlfriend, whose gorgeous college-girl body was also quite shapely, but visibly more toned and compact than the milf’s, did not appear to share that view.

“My god, no wonder Kristian couldn’t tear his eyes away. You look like a total fucking train wreck,” she sneered, shaking her head at the highly suggestively-dressed housewife in overt condescension.

“Any bets on how long it’ll take me to get those droopy things all flattened out?” Sabrina asked with a snicker, her gaze meeting mine for a moment as she flashed me a saucy grin. She looked supremely confident as always. And with good reason, I knew.

“Ooh, someone’s feeling their wheaties. I love deflating conceited little bitches like you,” the blonde shot back, pursing her plump, red lips into a rather sly-looking grin. “Makes the whole stud-hunt that much more satisfying. We’ll see how cocky you sound when you’re on your knees, pleasuring my better breasts with your tongue while your guy gets ready to shoot his load on your loose, beaten sacks for one last time.”

“I like my boy-toys to last more than a few seconds on the first round, you see. Taming them is easy enough as it is,” the cougar murmured. Her smoldering eyes locked onto the visible tent in my crotch, my treasonous, quickly-hardening cock making a jolt as she licked her lips, slowly and sensuously.

“Mmm, not bad… not bad at all… You boyfriend’s going to be thanking his lucky stars in the morning, that big cock totally drained by a real woman’s mature, experienced pussy.” Patricia’s purr was low and positively feline, and her eyes seemed to burn with pure, confident lust.

“He may have the looks of a fucking Greek god, but once I’m done taking that young, muscular body apart, his voice will be hoarse from screaming out my name, and the only things still coming out of his pretty mouth will be whispers like ‘yes, mommy’ and ‘please fuck me some more, mommy.”

“Well aren’t you a horny old tart…” Sabrina sputtered, sounding bemused, perhaps even a bit impressed. The nonplussed expression on her face displayed no concern or worry whatsoever, and more surprisingly, I couldn’t spot too much anger or irritation either. The brunette appeared to treat her opponent’s taunts about bedding her man – me – as little more than pre-match entertainment, obviously convinced of their emptiness.

“I hate to break this to you…” my girlfriend trailed off, pretending to be at a loss as she tilted her head in mock bewilderment. “But you seem to be suffering from a serious case of delusion. Or dementia, take your pick.”

“I’m sure your rack’s a real menace among the housewives, and may even have managed to flatten some weaker-titted college girls in the past. But those days long gone now,” Sabrina sneered, her tone catty and dismissive.

“Your saggy old pillows aren’t going to last Marmaris Escort Bayan more than a minute against my firm tits.”

“Oh, I think you’ll be surprised by how much punch they still pack, missy,” the blonde replied, stepping forward and bringing her substantial, fabric-covered mammaries into contact with Sabrina’s somewhat less ample pair. I looked on with great interest as the women pushed their clothed racks together, both flashing small grins at their rival as they felt their big boobs meet for the first time.

My eyes were glued to the action, staring at how each pair struggled against the pieces of lingerie surrounding them, pale and tan flesh spilling and bulging out of the cups as the women ground their breasts together gently. It wasn’t difficult to tell whose jugs morphed more.

“See? My boobs are pushing those fat udders out of their support bra already,” Sabrina smirked spitefully, her expression smug as ever. “This is going to be a cakewalk.”

“Sure hope those toyboys of yours like having tit pancakes for breakfast,” the brunette laughed. “‘Cause that’s what’ll be on tomorrow’s menu.”

That small smile on Patricia’s lips, however, didn’t appear to be faltering. I watched her thrust forward with greater force, shoving her expansive bust against Sabrina’s. Hard. I could hear my girlfriend’s surprised grunt as more of her dense, full jugs began to squeeze out, compressing from the increased pressure as the blonde’s deliciously plentiful mature mounds squashed against them.

“I’d pay closer attention to your own tits if were you. Those perky little teenboppers you’ve got trapped in your bra seem to be trying to escape. Unlike you, they can tell when they’re outgunned,” Patricia sang, her voice light and musical.

“Take a good look at your girl’s cute boobies while you still can, pretty-boy,” the blonde called out, glancing over in my direction and giving me a wink. “My bigger, sexier jugs are about to pancake them against her chest.

“You seem to be blind as well as senile, bitch,” Sabrina snorted, pushing against the pressure confidently. “One set’s pancaking, alright, but it isn’t mine.”

Like the figurative kid in a candy store, I gawked at the way all four breasts kept ballooning out of their bras, their partially-exposed titmeat ebbing and flowing with each shove. Still, my girlfriend definitely had a point, I thought, noting how the blonde’s pale, ample flesh appeared to be molding noticeably more than the brunette’s firm orbs did. Just as I’d expected them to.

What confused me was Patricia’s serene, almost bored demeanor, the buxom cougar continuing to regard her opponent with that knowing smirk.

“Oh, you’ll be singing a different tune soon enough, sweetie. I can promise you that,” the blonde intoned softly. Her murmur was a strange mix of threat and amusement, appearing to contain both in equal measure.

“First, these thick, powerful jugs are going to squeeze your school-girl tits flat, squishing them like the cute little marshmallows they are,” Patricia continued, her voice lowering and becoming more predatory. “And when you’ve finally paid the proper homage to your betters with that nasty, stuck-up mouth of yours,” the blonde added, practically growling now, “I’ll make you watch as I mount your tasty teen-dream hunk in your bed, wrapping my wet pussy around his big, hard cock like a vice and riding him like he’s never been ridden before. His roars will turn into moans, and then into whimpers as I slowly take him apart. He’s going to cum hard enough to see stars, time and time again, all night, until he’ll forget he ever even knew you.”

“I’m going to conquer your boyfriend the same way I’ll conquer your precious young boobs. And you, you will get to see me fuck him to within an inch of his life.”

“How’s that sound, miss bitch-tits?

WOW. Just wow. I don’t know about Sabrina, but to me, that sounded like an awful lot of fun. If this milf’s dirty-talking was any indication, she ought to be a total beast in the sack.

It’s just too bad it wasn’t ever going to happen. I’d seen my girlfriend beat some seriously impressive college-age knockers before, and highly doubted this (admittedly rather attractive) cougar had what it took to take her down. Patricia seemed to have a nice rack, but I knew you’d need a truly EPIC pair of breasts if you wanted to match, let alone surpass, Sabrina’s perfect set. As much as that scenario intrigued my oversexed young mind, I knew there was simply no way this busty housewife could hope to out-boob my girlfriend.

Sabrina, quite unsurprisingly, was thinking along the same lines.

“You should’ve told me you were a comedian,” the brunette muttered, shaking her head in genuine if a bit baffled amazement. She seemed to be entirely unfazed by Patricia’s vividly detailed description of her intentions.

“If I’d known you were a professional jokester, I might’ve taken your ridiculous attempt to chat up my boyfriend, and the even more far-fetched challenge to titfight over him, as nothing more than improv stand-up.” Escort Marmaris My girlfriend guffawed, but her tone was anything but friendly.

“Would’ve saved those hangers from a world of hurt,” she added coolly. “But as it is, I’m afraid I’ll have to insist on going ahead with the ceremonies.”

“Fine by me.”

Patricia’s laugh had a tinkling, almost fey-like ring to it, I idly noted, watching the full-figured blonde take a small step backwards as she first discarded her slinky dark-red cocktail dress in one clearly practiced, fluid motion, and then started to remove her bra. The lingerie she wore was beige and quite sheer, making her appear practically nude. I felt another lurch in my groin. She was one sexy housewife, alright.

A quiet ‘snap’ announced the clasp’s release. Patricia’s lacy garment slowly began to slide off, and my eyes followed two pale, jiggling globes as they fell on her chest slightly. Well aware that my attention was now fully on her, the mature woman pursed her lips seductively, grinning at my vacant expression as she leaned forward to free her breasts completely. They thudded down, shaking, and I could practically feel my eyes widen. Before me was a pair of breasts that seemed to be fully competitive with those of my previous girlfriends in attractiveness, and had all but one of them beat in size.

Making a soft, almost girly-sounding giggle, the voluptuous blonde cupped her large jugs as she slowly straightened her back. She flashed me a playful smile, letting those two glorious mammaries drop again, their denseness slapping against her chest with a dull, meaty thud. Each breast shook rather than wobbled, I noted, marveling at the lavish display. While you wouldn’t call them ‘perky’ or even ’round’, Patricia’s large teats had far less sag than I’d anticipated, maintaining an ample and only moderately pendulous shape. Despite their age, each breast was located relatively high on the woman’s torso, looking ripe and full.

And as a certain engorged, rapidly throbbing organ reminded me, also very, very arousing. While my mind was vaguely aware of the fact that those boner-inducing jugs belonged to a woman who was easily old enough to be my mother, ‘the junior’ downstairs did not seem to care one bit about such trivialities. I swallowed, craning my head towards Sabrina while I tried to look as sheepish as I possibly could.

It turned out I didn’t have any reason to worry about invoking my girlfriend’s wrath. The brunette’s eyes were transfixed to Patricia’s thick, heavy breasts, drinking in their unexpected fullness in silence. She blinked slowly, still offering no verbal reaction to her opponent’s reveal, though her facial expression did tell me a story of some considerable surprise. Not that I could blame her; this mature broad was stacked like a page three girl. Sabrina quickly followed the blonde’s lead and started to take her own top off. I watched her yank off her snug, thin blouse, flinging it to the side before she reached behind to remove her bra. Instead of leaning over like Patricia had, Sabrina cupped her big, round tits at the base, pulling them completely out and giving them a substantial shake.

My eyes locked onto a sight I’d gotten to ogle several times before, but which I knew I would never grow tired of. My girlfriend’s pert, flawlessly-shaped boobs jiggled enticingly, their considerable firmness evident from the way those minute ripples swam across the tanned surface. When the brunette finally let go her breasts and allowed the dense titmeat to settle down, it did so almost immediately, all bounces and jiggles dying out after a second or two. She raised an eyebrow at her rival.

I noticed that Patricia had also gently palmed her own tits, cupping those large jugs from below for a moment as she stared down the young brunette. When she released them, both plump and mature mammaries fell with a delicious yet solid-looking bounce, two stiff, red nubs pointing directly ahead. If the cougar felt intimidated by my girlfriend’s perfect college-babe boobs, she hid it remarkably well.

Now that their pairs had finally been unclothed, both women paused to give the other a once-over – and more importantly, to assess their opposition. I joined them eagerly.

Sabrina’s full, just about ideally-formed teardrop tits sat high on her chest, seeming almost perky despite their size (a medium D-cup, I knew). They weren’t as large Patricia’s jugs, which could probably fill a low-to-mid range Double D bra if my guesstimation was correct, but still looked plenty big enough. You’d certainly count her in the ‘busty’ category when ranking the girls at the college. In any case, my girlfiend’s prodigiously solid orbs had precious little visible hang, jutting out proudly like two slabs of marble. They looked absolutely magnificent.

Her dark nipples were growing larger in the cool air, and I took a deep, shuddering breath as Sabrina palmed her pert breasts again, this time lightly caressing both hardening tips. Her skin, boobs included, was much more tan than Patricia’s, whose creamy complexion looked rather pale next to my girlfriend’s olive-ish tone. Sabrina’s nubs were sticking out of two dusky, half-dollar sized areolae, located dead center of her firm boobs. The bounce she’d given her breasts when showing them off to the blonde was not indicative at all. Without that deliberate effort, they barely jiggled.

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

My name is Celia. I’m 25 years old and I’m a porn star; but not the kind you might be imagining. I’m a BBW (Big Beautiful Woman); you know, a fat girl. It’s for a new Web site in an increasingly crowded field so maybe you’ve seen me, maybe you haven’t.

On a movie set, I have sex with guys who wouldn’t look twice at me on the street. The ironic aspect of performing sexually with lights and a camera is that my size, formerly a turn off to most men, is what now attracts viewers to the site, thus making me a hot commodity.

How did I get involved in this and why? Well, I’m 5′ 5″ tall, brunette, pretty (I’ve been told), with very light skin. My breasts are 42C. I also weigh 235 lbs. so I haven’t usually gotten a lot of attention from men; unless of course they needed an object of fun and derision, which I have been at various times in my life. One guy that dated me (once) even said to someone later on that he wasn’t sure he could find “it”(my pussy) let alone fit his cock into it, as if that was supposed to be funny.

Until about a month before I started having sex in front of a video camera, I was a virgin. I had some experience jerking guys off and giving blowjobs but nobody was interested in seeing me without my clothes, let alone fucking me.

Consequently, in matters of love and sex, I resolved to be very cautious. Sex for me had always been about getting the guy off and never about getting me off. I guess because I was so fat I was supposed to be grateful for just being out with any guy. Well, I wasn’t. I may have been overweight (whatever that means) but I was still a person with feelings and sexual desire, something that’s difficult for many non-fat people to understand.

And so my sex life came to consist alternately of masturbation and deprivation. That is, until about six months ago when Tammy, my best friend at work, asked if she could introduce me to Eric.

My day job was, and still is, managing a local framing store. Eric had been friends with Tammy’s boyfriend Mark in college, though Tammy said they hadn’t seen much of each other since. Eric came into the store one day and had seen me. He asked Tammy who I was, and expressed interest in meeting me. I was surprised and somewhat curious since I didn’t remember him, so I told Tammy I’d meet him after work one day and see what he wanted.

Though I had been “burned” a lot in the past, I decided that if we liked each other and he asked me out, I’d go. Mark has always been kind and polite to me so I figured any friend of his was worth the risk. If Eric wasn’t attracted to me, that would be OK, so long as he was respectful. If it didn’t lead to a date or if it led to a date and no sex, I still had my faithful “rabbit” vibrator and “he” had never failed me.

Eric called me the very next day. Knowing what I know now, that should have made me suspicious. Anyway, we got together after work a couple of days later. Since I assumed he had already scrutinized me physically, I was a little puzzled as to why a good looking guy would want to go out with someone considerably less than svelte. I thought, “Isn’t he afraid of being laughed at in public?”

In any case, we got on well and he asked if I’d care to see a film with him that coming Saturday. I really like movies and while I prefer avant garde or foreign cinema, I was willing to see whatever he wanted, though I told him I drew the line at splatter films. He graciously let me choose and I selected something I thought we both might enjoy. Eric picked me up Saturday evening and we went to the theatre.

Afterward we went to a small, out of the way bar for a drink. I learned that Eric was a film major in college so we had a lot to talk about. We discussed our favorite directors and our favorite films and then Eric got around to telling me about his work. He was working as a cameraman, assistant director, and scriptwriter for a documentary filmmaker. I thought that was pretty cool.

How films are actually created has always interested me. I liked hearing about everything he did. He didn’t get paid much, with most documentary filmmakers being almost always underfunded, so Eric also worked doing free-lance editing. He also mumbled something vague about producing video for the Internet.

Before I could ask about that, he asked me about my job, which isn’t all that interesting, certainly not compared to what Eric was doing. The only thing that kept me from being bored to death was my every other week stint as a docent at an art museum. He asked me if I would ever consider working in film since I had the arts background, an art history degree, and was obviously knowledgeable. I said I didn’t think anyone would hire me without experience. I didn’t say, “In something as glamorous as filmmaking, no one is going to hire a fat girl with no specific skills who isn’t a friend of the director or producer.” Eric said maybe he could help if I were interested. I thought that was very nice. At that time I didn’t know to what he was referring. If I did, I might have stood up and walked out.

Eric took Mardin Escort me home and I thanked him for a lovely evening. I was still a little puzzled about his interest as I couldn’t see what he would want with me. Of course we did have a nice time. Maybe I was more intellectually stimulating than his usual companions.

He took my hand as he walked me to my apartment door. He kissed me goodnight in a way that was more than just polite. He took my face in his hands and kissed me very deeply. I was surprised and somewhat breathless. One hand moved down to my breast as the other started up and down my back. I was a little woozy; I had a nice looking guy feeling me up on my doorstep; something quite unexpected. I swallowed hard and asked if he’d like to come in for “coffee.” I was surprised and relieved and scared all at the same time when he said, “Yes.”

Inside the door, instead of immediately groping me, Eric took my hand and kissed it. He drew me close to him. It was romantic; but also hot: I could feel his erection. My pulse was racing and my pussy was getting wet. He had been so nice to me and had made this the best date I ever had. I quickly made up my mind: If he wanted a blow job or a hand job, I was going to do it.

I led him to my bedroom where I put the table lamp on its softest setting. To my further surprise Eric put his hand up my dress, reached inside my panties, and started caressing my buns! No one had ever gone for my butt before. I unzipped his pants, pulled them down, freed his fair-sized member, and dropped to my knees. I started fellating him by taking the head in my mouth and stroking the shaft as he ran his hands through my hair.

Even if this was all he wanted, I enjoyed doing it for him and wasn’t going to regret it. Instead of cumming in my mouth as I expected, he stepped back and helped me to my feet. He then proceeded to unzip my dress and lift it over my head. He actually wanted to see me naked! He knelt in front of me and pulled down my panties. Then he kissed my pussy. I was literally weak in the knees by this point and completely in his hands. He stood up and finished taking off his clothes. He turned me around and undid my bra. It was then, as I was completely naked, that I remembered how fat I was. I started to feel embarrassed about my size.

I put my head down but Eric, seeming to sense exactly what I was feeling, held me close to him and said, “Look at me: I think you’re hot and I’m going fuck you like you’ve never been fucked.”

Wow! I was finally going to get laid.

As he was taking a condom out of his pocket, I said, “Eric, I’m a virgin. Please don’t be upset.”

He stopped, looked at me, and said, “Do you want to just do oral?”

“No!” I said quickly. “No, I want you to fuck me. Please.”

“Celia, are you sure? Are you sure you want me to do it?”

I said excitedly, “Yes, I’m sure; surer than I’ve ever been about anything.”

“OK, get on that bed,” he commanded playfully.

I lay back, spread my legs, and bent my knees. Placing the condom on the bed next to us, Eric put his face between my legs and started licking my pussy. I couldn’t believe the sensation! I started moaning softly. I was hoping he liked doing it; I hoped I smelled and tasted OK. Was I crazy to agree to this? Would I be embarrassed by it the next day?

As if on cue, Eric lifted his head and said reassuringly, “Your pussy is luscious.” Was I dreaming?

I was too uptight, too nervous to cum, so he finally got up and put the rubber on his still-hard cock. I lifted my arms up to embrace him as he positioned his erection at my entrance. He fell slowly forward and sank into my softness. I felt the pressure of the hard cock on my hymen. He moved in and out with shallow thrusts, gauging my tightness. (He was clearly experienced with the defloration process. I was glad one of us was.)

He said, “On the count of three, I’m going to push hard into you. Is that OK?”

“Yes,” I said, hoarsely. “Do it! Split me open! Take me!” (OK; I got a little carried away, though I think I can be forgiven under the circumstances.)

“One…”

Yes, finally!

“Two…”

At last: I was going to be a real woman … sort of.

“Three!”

Down he thrust, quickly and forcefully. My hymen gave way with a “snap!” I was amazed: some pressure; very little pain; and it was done. I held him as he fucked me until he came.

When he had finished, Eric lay close to me, cuddling and caressing me. I’d half expected him to doff the condom and run out the door but no, he kissed me and asked how I felt about the loss of my virginity. I wasn’t a little girl; I wasn’t going to get overly emotional about it, but it was so nice of him to care. If I had been 16, it might have meant more. I was happy to have done with it, frankly. Virginity is overrated. I was happier still to have lost it to someone so sexy and so solicitous of me. As we lay on my bed, he actually started complimenting me on my body. Me! This had to be a dream, right?

However nice he Mardin Escort Bayan was to me, I was under no illusion that we would become a “couple” after this and told him so.

He was caught off guard by that and hemmed and hawed before I let him off the hook with the question: “Do you have a thing for fat girls? Is that why you went out with me?”

He said, “Well … yeah, sort of; I mean, I like all types of girls but I must admit, big girls really turn me on.”

That was OK, however, since my level of expectation regarding love is always fairly low anyway.

“That’s fine,” I said. “I’m glad we went out. I’m glad you fucked me; really.”

“Celia,” he said, “I’m surprised you were a virgin. You’re very attractive.”

That was nice, even if he was lying. It was then that he surprised me by asking how open-minded I was.

Hmm … was he going to suggest a threesome or something even kinkier? Or maybe abusive? I said warily that I was fairly open-minded, at least to a point. He asked if I had done any modeling. Modeling? Me? Even the plus-sized store models were slimmer than I was.

“OK,” I said, “Stop beating around the bush (no pun intended) and get to the point.”

It was then that he told me about the BBW Web site he and some friends had started and wondered if I would consider modeling for them. I didn’t even know what a BBW was until he told me all about this phenomenon in the world of pornography. He described how they set up the site and how they interviewed women to perform sexually with them in front of the camera.

I was instantly deflated: it wasn’t a dream; it was an audition.

“So when were you going to ask me to fuck for your Web site?” I said with a note of indignation.

He looked rather sheepish as he replied, “Please don’t be angry, Celia. Tonight was really great. Like I said, you’re very attractive; you’d be so hot on camera.”

I didn’t know what to say. I was angry, hurt, irritatingly buoyed by the back-handed compliment, and intrigued all at the same time.

Seeing that I hadn’t firmly rejected the idea, Eric tried another tack: “Let’s look at the site. If you don’t want to do it, forget I ever asked you.”

So, we got out of bed and went to my computer. We navigated to the Web site and there were profiles of large women with images of them masturbating or sucking cocks or being fucked from behind. I must admit that it was exciting as well as astonishing to see.

I navigated through the “Free Tour” and asked Eric some questions. “Are these professional models? Were they already porn stars?”

He told me that they tried to find new and different girls all the time and that it was an amateur site. Their intent was that the production should not look too professional. So, the models needed to be the “girl next door” type. (Fat girl next door, of course.) He and his friends did the fucking, etc. and paid the models by the session.

“You could be a star,” he said to me.

Oh, sure. The women on the site actually were amateur looking. Some had tattoos, some had stretch marks, and all of them were fat.

“Do people actually pay to watch fat girls having sex?” I naively asked.

“Yes, they sure do! It’s becoming lucrative; we’re really starting to pull in the subscriptions. We just got a good review from one of the bigger porn site reviewers. That’s helped us.”

He looked at me and said, “We’re looking for new models all the time. I think you’d be great.”

He took my hand. “The guys are really nice. They always treat the girls respectfully, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

I reached for a tissue to clean up the little smear of blood on the inside of my thigh. “And remember: It’s a sub-culture. No one you know is likely ever to see you.”

Eric leaned over and gently kissed my lips and stroked my hair. He started to feel my tits and I could see him getting hard again. We went back to the bed for another fucking after which Eric left, excusing himself with some story about needing to do some documentary editing early the next morning.

He kissed me good-bye very tenderly, though, and said, “Promise me you’ll think about it?” I said that I would.

Think about it I did. Of course, I had more than a few reservations. On the one hand, I’d had sex with an attractive man, more attractive than I’d been used to. On the other hand, he fucked me as part of a strategy to help him make money by persuading me to perform sex acts in front of a video camera. Still, that had its “plus” side, too.

Before this evening, I would never have thought someone would pay money to watch fat women have sex. It became apparent that a lot of people were prepared to do so; all they needed was an easily accessible place that provided them with continuously refreshed images and the assurance of anonymity.

In a fit of imagination inconceivable before this evening’s events, I started to fantasize about having sex with attractive men on what was essentially a movie set. I would be the star, Escort Mardin the center of attention. More assertive sexuality than that probably wasn’t in the cards for me.

I decided that I should really think about this seriously. If I was going to blow and fuck guys like Eric and even get paid for it … well, it was worth considering. I liked the way he made love to me, even if he had been sneaky about the modeling proposal. I knew all along that I wasn’t the prize he made me out to be. Though I had suspended my disbelief while it was happening, I was back to reality now. Still, he got it up for me more than once tonight. That was something.

I also thought of the down side. First of all, would I have the nerve just to take my clothes off in front of people, let alone have sex? Wouldn’t I be embarrassed to have my sexual performance available for anyone to see? What if someone I knew saw it and recognized me? Wouldn’t I be stigmatized? Wouldn’t I lose my job? Wouldn’t the evidence of my depravity cause me to be ostracized from the rest of society (a society that didn’t like me that much anyway, I reminded myself) and condemn me to a downward-spiraling life first of pornographic sluthood, then drugs, and finally, crime? I saw myself disheveled, without makeup, clad in gray, and sitting alone in a prison cell as the bars clanged shut.

As part of his entreaty, Eric had given me a temporary password to the site. I returned to it, curious about these women who seemed to have risked everything for a few minutes of fame… or was it infamy? Were they social deviants – ex-cons and biker chicks? Were they on drugs during the shoot? As it turned out, none of that was true. As I watched them, I was struck by how ordinary they looked. These were women I might see anywhere: shopping in the grocery store, standing in line at the movies, or … managing a framing store.

Did men really get off seeing fat women fucked and cummed on? Well, apparently they did. I noticed, too, that the men in the films (the same two, by the way) really were respectful of the women as Eric said they were. They complimented them and treated them in a way that I thought was reserved only for the slinkier among us. I had been prepared to see something bordering on the grotesque. Instead, what I saw was plus-sized women having explicit sex with normal-sized men and accepting it as their due. No one made fun of them. There was no humiliation involved. There was the impression only of lust and pleasure for both the male and the female. It occurred to me that there was something both uninhibited and accepting about it that was missing in most of the rest of society and certainly in my life.

About a week later, I got up the courage to call Eric.

“Celia! I was hoping you’d call,” he said. I asked him if I could watch a filming, if that was allowed.

“Of course,” he said.

They didn’t let just anyone on the set but that they were always happy, understandably, to have prospective models come to check things out. He told me they were filming the next Sunday morning and asked if I would I like to see how things were done. I swallowed hard and said “Yes.” He gave me the address and said he’d see me on Sunday.

I arrived at the location, a house in a nice, quiet neighborhood. I knocked on the door, hoping I hadn’t gotten the address wrong.

A guy opened the door, introduced himself as Terry, and said, “You must be Celia. C’mon in. Eric said you’d be coming over. He said you might be working with us.”

Hastily, I told him I was still thinking about it.

“Cool,” he said. “Let me introduce you to the guys.”

I met Todd, who I recognized from the Web site, and Mike, another performer who, today, was doing the lighting, and Chris, the cameraman. I also met David. He was sort of nerdy compared to the rest of the guys, shy but very nice and kind of cute. David was the one who took care of the technology on the set and maintained the Web site as well. He was busily preparing the monitor and the digital recording equipment. The filming was set to start in about 15 minutes so there was a flurry of activity. I stood to the side, trying not to get in the way. Eric came into the living room and greeted me.

“Hey, Celia,” and kissed my cheek. “Stick close to me; I’m going to be directing today.”

I looked around for the model, who was nowhere to be seen.

When I asked Eric where she was, he said, “Andrea is in the bedroom, being made up by Marsha.”

As he said that, two women came into the living room. One was obviously Andrea, red haired, busty, and bigger than I was. She had on a black spaghetti-strapped gown. The other woman was blond, pretty, and normal sized. That was Marsha. In addition to doing the makeup, Eric told me, she was also the “fluffer.”

Before I could ask what a “fluffer” was, I heard David say, “Ready, Eric.”

Eric then called everyone to attention. “OK, guys, we’re ready to start. Andrea, you look great, doll.”

Andrea, very nicely made up, smiled, tossed her curly hair, and nervously kept smoothing imaginary wrinkles in her dress. I thought she looked very pretty. Mike had moved the lights into position. Terry had the boom microphone ready. Todd waited alongside Andrea. Apparently he was going to be the male performer today.

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Note – This story originates as a secondary plot in another series under the “Mature” section, titled “Neighbor Fantasy, chapters 1-3”. This story can be read by itself, but those chapters provide some context as to how this story came to unfold. See my other works to find it.

*****

Two days had passed since Jennifer had snuck into Brad’s room at night to discuss the photo she had taken earlier that day. Without Brad being aware, both Jennifer and his sister had been home as he lay in the neighbor’s yard with Mrs. Roberts, both of them quite nude and drinking before spending the night together, bodies locked in passion.

There was zero intention to blackmail Brad, or even to tell anyone about the rather taboo relationship with his neighbor, Mrs. Roberts. Instead, Jennifer had worked up the courage to ask Brad if he would, quite privately, mind spending time with her, to learn a few things to satiate her sexual curiosity. Since they had known each other for years, and she was the best friend of Brad’s sister, he agreed.

Brad spent a good deal thinking about this on Sunday evening, having had a wonderful night prior over at Mrs. Roberts’ home. Now that she would be away on business for a few weeks, he thought it a good opportunity to find a time and place to meet Jennifer.

He sent a simple message with his phone:

“Hey, still up for what we talked about?”

The reply was almost instant:

“Yes! When?”

They went back and forth, looking for a time when they could get together, but it was not particularly easy given their conflicting university schedules. Monday and Tuesday were no good for either of them. Wednesday seemed promising until Brad remembered a group project he would have to attend. Thursday would work if they met at eleven in the morning, since they both had afternoon classes, but then it felt like they might be rushed. Finally, they decided on Friday night.

“Your sister is going to a concert with her bf, so I’ll be free. My parents are going away for the weekend.”

Brad thought about this for a few minutes. He would love to meet sooner, but given the events of the last two weeks, he valued the idea of privacy and not being in any hurry.

“Sounds great, I’ll come by at eight.”

“Bring some wine ;)”

Brad laughed at the message, at the absurdity of it all. Jennifer was probably one of his sister’s best friends, and here he was planning a clandestine meeting with her. Still, he was looking forward to it.

The week started as it normally did, leaving Brad with almost no time to do anything but his schoolwork. He had not heard from Jennifer at all since their messages on Sunday, and he wondered if she had changed her mind. He sent her a quick message on Thursday, simply saying, “Still good for Friday? No hard feeling if you get cold feet.”

She did not reply right away, nor after an hour. Brad wondered if she had in fact changed her mind, when finally the reply came: “Sorry, in class. Can’t wait :)”

Brad grinned, excited at the prospect. The phone vibrated again with a new message, “What are you going to teach me?”

He was not expecting the question, despite the nature of their gettogether. He replied by asking, “Well, what do you know so far, and what do you want to learn?”

A few more minutes went by and she replied with a long list:

“I guess I should learn to give a good handjob, and with my mouth, and to know what guys like to do.”

That was terribly general, but it was more than he knew before. He replied with a simple, “Cool, we’ll keep it light.”

Friday afternoon finally came and Brad found himself anxiously awaiting the end of his survey class. Once back home, he showered and prepared for his evening, his mind running through what they would do together.

Taking the chilled bottle of wine from the fridge he had left that morning, Brad sent one more text, giving Jennifer one final opportunity to bow out gracefully should she be too shy to meet up, all while saving face. She replied stating that she was ready and waiting for him.

That was it then, Brad thought, taking his mom’s car for the evening.

Having never actually been to her house, it took Brad a little longer than he expected to find it. He did not want to cause Jennifer any trouble, like by the neighbors comment to her parents about the boy who came over with wine as soon as they left for the weekend, so he parked a block away and made his way quickly to the door when he thought no one was around to see him.

Jennifer must have had the same idea, as she was waiting for him at the door, letting him inside and closing the door behind him in one swift motion. She wore a flattering black dress that hugged at her petite frame. As Brad said hello, he saw it was a wrap dress, the tie knotted at the waist.

Jennifer said hello and turned awkwardly, nervously, up the stairs. Brad followed, aware of her nervousness, but calm himself now that he was here.

“I brought some wine,” he said, heading towards the kitchen to find some glasses. Jennifer Van Escort turned and followed him, obviously having seen the bottle but not being focused on anything in particular.

He took two wine glasses from the counter that Jennifer had set before he arrived, asking, “Where is the living room?”

Jennifer led Brad out of the kitchen and down the hall. The living room was rather simple, with a large television against the wall and two couches on the other side. One was a long couch that could fit three, and the other was more of a recliner-style armchair and a rectangular coffee table with a glass top.

“Why don’t you have a seat,” he said, dimming the lights and then placing both glasses on the coffee table. He opened the bottle of wine. Jennifer sat rather awkwardly, not quite sure how she should sit, while Brad poured two glasses and handed one to her. She took it, while Brad sat in the middle of the couch, next to her.

“Here, sit facing me, and put your feet on my lap.”

She moved without question, and he leaned forward to take the glass in his hand. “Cheers,” he said, touching her glass with his, and they both took a long drink of the cool, sweet wine.

Brad placed his glass on the coffee table, placing his hands on Jennifer’s smooth legs, she watched his hands closely as he gently moved his fingers along the skin, around the knees, tickling her softly without meaning too.

“Sorry about that,” he said.

She took another long sip of her wine, as Brad shuffled away from her a little bit down the couch. Now, her feet were on his lap, and he took one into his hands, beginning a firm massage of her sole. In that instant, Jennifer felt everything melt away. Her nervousness completely gone.

As Brad worked the soles of her feet, he asked Jennifer about everything that was going on with her. He asked about her courseload this semester, how her family was going, what shows she was watching, or not watching, because school was in the way. They chatted about this and more, all the while finishing their first glass of wine, and then a second, and then what was left of the bottle. By the time they finished their last drink, the sun had set, and in the dimmed light of the living room, both felt their heads swimming with little care in the world.

It was then that Brad stood up, extending a hand to Jennifer, and said, “Why don’t you show me to your room?”

She stood more quickly than she should have, and nearly fell over from the wine. She took Brad by his extended hand and walked him out of the living room and towards the stairs. Once up top, she led him into a room that was clearly not hers, but her parents’.

Brad said nothing to this, and instead took Jennifer by the hips, sitting her down at the edge of the bed. Then, he stepped back and began to undress. He took off his shirt, folded it, and placed it on the dresser. He undid the buckle of his belt and the three buttons of the fly, taking off his pants and folding them as well to place on the dresser. All the while, Jennifer watched the show, her mouth open as she stared, fascinated with his body.

Only his black boxer briefs remained now, and so he said, “Will you help me take these off?”

Jennifer stood from the edge of the bed and stepped forward. She reached out with one hand first, and then the other, placing her fingers inside the elastic, and begin to pull down. Her eyes focused on the semi-erect cock before her, letting the boxer briefs dropped to the ground.

“Thank you,” said Brad, taking them and placing them on the dresser. Standing naked now in front of Jennifer, he reached towards the tied knot around her waist, giving it a gentle tug, letting the sash come undone. He took apart the wrap, first with the outer layer, then with the inner layer on the other side, revealing that Jennifer wore no bra or panties. Her breasts were on the smaller side but perfectly matched her petite frame. She sucked in her breath as Brad revealed her nakedness, and to calm her, he said, “You look beautiful,” to which she smiled, but did not meet his gaze.

Brad looked over at the king-sized frame, and said, “Why don’t you lie in the middle of the bed,” which she did. She too had wondered what they would do first. Would she handle his cock with her hand, or her mouth, or something else? Brad had a different idea.

He lay beside her, watching her chest rise and fall with her anticipation showing in her breathing. He moved in close to her neck, and kissed softly, which made Jennifer moan softly, surprising her in the process. Brad smiled, and asked, “Have you ever been eaten out?”

Jennifer shook her head from side to side, and Brad nodded. He moved overtop of her, supporting himself on his elbows, kissing her neck, shoulders, breasts, and working his way down, down, pushing softly for Jennifer to part her legs, which she did without resistance. Soon Brad placed his hands beneath her legs, his face directly in front of her warm lips. Carefully, he began by kissing at her thighs, running his tongue all around her lips, simply Van Escort Bayan to get her used to having a man so close to it for the first time.

Then, bringing one hand up and ever so gently, he placed his fingers on her clit, moving it in small circles. Jennifer shut her eyes and moaned more loudly now, enthralled in the new of being touched by someone other than herself. Brad removed his hand and replaced it with his mouth, gently running his tongue back and forth along her clit. Jennifer moaned in ecstasy, never had she experienced such a sensation before. Brad made sure to keep things slow at first, thinking she would need more time to get used to the feeling.

Soon however, he found that she was moaning loudly, totally enthralled in the feeling of his mouth on her clit, and so he kept at it, urging her along until her breathing became ragged. Her hips began moving more erratically, until finally she shook and squeezed her legs around Brad’s head, her orgasm taking hold. Her mouth went wide, and she let out a series of longer moans.

When the rush began to pass, Brad moved up and overtop of Jennifer’s body, laying on his back next to her as she recovered. Her breathing was still short but slowly returning to normal, and when Brad thought she was sufficiently in control again, he asked, “Did you like that?”

She turned to him, a massive grin on her face, “I fucking loved it!” came the reply, “I didn’t know anything could feel so good!”

“Yeh, it can be pretty amazing,” he replied.

Jennifer looked down at Brad’s semi-erect cock, finding herself still a little shy, despite the wine and the orgasm that shook her body. Seeing this, Brad took her hand, and guided it down between his legs, where she grasped onto his awaiting cock. She loved how it felt between her fingers, and watched it grow rapidly as she stroked it. In no time at all, Brad was rock hard.

Jennifer watched with wide eyes, “It gets hard so fast,” she said.

“Yeh, well, I’ve had some help watching you,”

She stroked it, moving her hand to different positions, getting the feel and weight of it in different ways. “Does that feel good?” she asked.

“Yeh, it feels nice when you stroke it.”

“Will you cum if I keep doing this?”

“Yeh, if you did it long enough, and at the right pace, I’m sure I would.”

She kept moving it, sliding it up and down, smiling and laughing softly as she pulled the skin up and over the tip.

“It’s a little weird,” she said, poking at the shaft with her finger. “What should I do now?”

“What do you think of giving me a blowjob?”

Jennifer nodded enthusiastically, “I haven’t done it before.”

Brad nodded, “Well, you try it out, do whatever you think is good, and we’ll go from there.”

Jennifer slid down Brad’s body, moving his legs apart in the same way he had her do earlier. She was now between his legs, hips in the air, giving Brad a perfect view of her ass. She took his cock in her hand, and gently placed the tip into her mouth. Brad smiled and watched as she slowly worked the tip in and out of her mouth.

She tried different things, like stroking him while sucking the tip of his cock, then trying to take as much of it into her mouth at once, getting about half of it in before gagging. She licked at the shaft, and lightly at his balls, all with the goal of seeing how we would react to each act. Brad moaned with each one, enjoying the feeling of Jennifer exploring with her mouth.

A good while passed, and Jennifer stopped every so often to ask how it felt, or if she should do something different. Brad offered suggestions based on what he liked, but also kept saying that everyone likes things a little differently. Eventually Brad found himself almost losing himself in the sensation, and decided to dial it down with another lesson for Jennifer.

“Ok,” he began, “Let’s try something else now. Come lie next to me again.”

She did as she was told, lying on her side facing Brad.

“Lie on your back,” he said, turning onto his side to face her.

She did so, and felt his hand start wandering around her hips, moving around her thighs, lightly spreading her legs apart, which she again opened without hesitation.

“I’m going to touch you now, but we’ll do something a little different. You need to guide my hand, and tell me exactly how you want to be touched.”

She nodded, and asked, “Why?”

“Because if the guy doesn’t know what he’s doing, and you’re too shy or don’t know how to tell him what you want, you won’t enjoy it, and he won’t learn.”

Jennifer smiled, remembering from experience the few guys she had been with, all of which were clueless. If it happened again, this would certainly help. Brad had let his hand rest on Jennifer’s thigh, and so she took his hand and placed it on her still warm and wet lips. She ran his fingers up and down, making her clit wet with her juices. Then, she placed his middle and ring fingers on her clit, before placing her fingers atop his, and began moving in small circles.

She moaned with pleasure Escort Van as she used Brad’s fingers to rub her clit, and after a few moments, removed her fingers, leaving only Brad to work her body. This went for a while, without much change, until Brad said, “Do you want me to do anything different? If so, you need to tell me.”

“Move a little faster,” she said softly, eyes closed tight. Brad complied, and Jennifer moaned and her breathing quickened. She began giving Brad instructions, or making small changes to the speed, or the type of movements, all the while smiling at how wonderful it all felt, and how easy it was when she spoke to him and told him what she liked.

“Put a finger in me,” she said.

Brad moved his fingers down and began exploring her entrance with his middle and ring fingers, gently pushing in, stretching her hole as she twitched her hips at the sensation she felt. “Harder,” she would say, “faster,” she would add. A while later she said, “now go back to my clit,” and Brad did, running the tops of his fingers in circles on her clit, until it all became too much for her once more. She grasped onto Brad’s shoulder, turning and burying her face in his chest as the second orgasm shook her to her very core. Her legs clasped hard around his hand, and Brad found it painful for a moment, but also enjoyable to make her feel this way.

Brad moved his arm up and over Jennifer’s head, pulling her into his chest, to lay there in the post orgasm bliss. He of course was still rock hard, but he knew that this was likely as far as they would go, and that this was about her, and not him. On the bedside table, Jennifer’s phone beeped, signaling the arrival of a text message, which she ignored.

Jennifer breathed deeply now, doing her best to calm down. She was overwhelmed, in a wonderful way, but the way she was feeling. Before today she had assumed she would enjoy these things with the right partner, now she was sure of it. She had experienced everything she wanted from Brad. Or at least, everything but the last thing.

Jennifer thought for a moment, and then decided. She turned away from Brad, reaching over to the nightstand. Brad had thought it was her phone that she had picked up, but then she turned back and slid down his body, kneeling beside his rock hard cock, and opened the condom wrapper.

He said nothing, watching as she removed the condom from its packaging, placed it at the tip, and rolled it all the way down. She threw her leg over his, straddling him, and with one hand held firmly onto his cock. Brad moved his hands to her hips, gliding his fingers up and down the skin, lightly teasing, making her smile and reassuring her that this was the right choice. She lifted herself up slightly, enough to line up the tip of his cock, and sit back, gently taking in the first inches of his manhood. She gasped, lightly, as he entered her, and smiled.

She had only had sex once before, but she would sooner forget it even occurred for how awkward it had been, and how rushed they were. She had barely become accustomed to his meaty hands moving too roughly, and it was over almost as soon as it had started.

This however, this was like night and day. The wine, the oral sex, how he used his hands, all of this had warmed her up and left her ready to take his cock. She was so wet that there was almost no resistance, and as he filled her up, his cock hit places she had not felt before. Slowly, she began to move up and down on him, sliding about halfway up before moving back again. She cupped her breasts as she did, feeling her hard nipples between her fingers, and giving them a light pinch. Brad meanwhile stayed calm beneath her, grasping firmly her hips, helping move her up and pulling her down.

Jennifer bit her lip as Brad held onto her. She maintained this movement for a while, until Brad sat up, hugging her with his arms and sucking on her breasts. She loved the feeling, placing her hands around his head and pulling him close to her. Brad went to lie back down, gently pulling her with him, until she was almost lying on top of him. He pulled her head down until he could kiss her neck, and gently flicked his tongue against the skin of her neck.

Brad moved his arms down to Jennifer’s knees, and pulled them slightly higher up on his body, towards his chest, before placing his hands firmly on her hips and thrusting deep, slightly faster than she had been moving.

Jennifer moaned deep into Brad’s ear, as he whispered, “When you’re on top, you can do the work, or I can do the work, in these different positions.”

He continued thrusting into Jennifer, who continued to moan as he did so. She had her arms near his head, and moved them underneath his neck, holding tight onto him. He kept this up and felt her breathing again become shortened, another orgasm nearing.

Brad stopped then, and rolled Jennifer off of him, much to her surprise and disappointment. Brad sat up, moving behind Jennifer and pulling her waist up and spreading her legs. From behind now he entered her, going deep and making her moan once again. Brad knew she would not last long in this position with all the stimulus she had felt so far, and so he began the same strong, steady thrusts he had used on Mrs. Roberts the week before.

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