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There is another wrinkle to my obsession that I haven’t really touched on: I prefer older women. Why? Well, a few basic reasons are that they’re more approachable, they know what they like and they aren’t as worried about what people think of them. But the real reason is because they generally see oral sex much differently than younger women.

I grew up in a world where people learn about safe sex at an early age. It’s no surprise that many of us saw oral sex as a less risky alternative to intercourse. Because of that, oral sex has taken on a status of something more casual than intercourse. It’s somewhere between heavy petting and screwing. However, for many women who grew up years before me, putting a cock in their mouth is something far more intimate than taking it into their pussy.

So naturally when I get a blow job from a woman from this older generation, it means more to me because it’s a bigger deal in her mind to do that. I know there are exceptions, older women who aren’t uptight about it, and for them it may be no different than for a girl my age. It’s just a generalization, but it gives me an incentive to seek out women fifteen and twenty years older than me. My next entry is one of my favorites in this particular twist of my blow job obsession.

I have a friend who lives in a rather pricey neighborhood and travels a lot for business. His wife is a freelance writer and usually travels with him. They’re often gone for a week or two at a time and need someone to take care of their dog and keep an eye on the house. The last year or so I’ve been helping them out this way on a regular basis.

Their house, aside from being big, well-furnished and, compared to my apartment, luxurious, is also a bit closer to where I work. So I would stay the week, take care of the dog and live the good life. If that was all there was to it, it would still be a great deal for me. But as I was to find out, house sitting had benefits I never anticipated.

Part of taking care of the dog, AJ, included taking him for walks around the neighborhood. I usually threw on a tank top and some ratty old gym shorts and off we went. I admit, I consciously wear clothes that attract attention and this is a careful calculation on my part. I want to show myself off, since I do keep myself in good shape, but with clothes that would make it easy to deny I was. Who wears ratty clothes to get attention, right? In other words, I want to get noticed without being obvious that I’m trying.

So I would take AJ around this ritzy neighborhood in a tank top and shorts. I made sure to smile and say hi to everyone I passed. On rare occasions I would actually have a brief conversation, usually revolving around AJ. Like I said, I had a pretty good deal just doing the house sitting. I really wasn’t actively pursuing my obsession; I just wasn’t ruling anything out either.

There was one woman who was often out working in her flower gardens when I went by and I always said hi to her. I house sat in late April, again in the middle of May and again at the end of May. She joked once that she saw more of me than she did of my friends. By the time I was house sitting in late May, we had introduced ourselves and had had several brief conversations.

Her name was Eileen. She was married, no children and her husband traveled frequently. She was in her mid-to-late forties and hadn’t worked in some time. I gathered from her comments that giving up her job hadn’t been her idea. She was petite, pretty and always well-groomed despite the fact that she was usually gardening when I saw her. She had dark brown hair cut short in a very businesslike fashion. She had brown eyes, a delicate, slightly upturned nose and a crooked smile. Her body was nice, although she was probably carrying a little extra weight. Her legs were smooth and shapely, her ass round and full and her breasts were small, but perky.

Eileen wasn’t a woman who ever really turned men’s heads, but she was very attractive in her way. It certainly didn’t hurt my opinion of her that half the times I saw her she was on her knees in her garden. Still, I wasn’t going to be too forward with my friend’s neighbors. Especially not the married ones. But I had given it some thought, so I can’t claim what happened was totally accidental.

I was talking to Eileen during one of AJ’s walks–she had made herself more and more available for conversations–when I let a casual joke slip out. We had been discussing my friends’ house and Eileen said she had never been inside. So I started telling her about the huge sectional sofa, the big screen TV and all of the things that make it a real treat for me to stay there.

“Pop your head in sometime and take a look,” I offered.

“Thanks, but no,” she said. At first I thought she just meant she didn’t want to seem nosey, but then she said, “The way this neighborhood gossips, I wouldn’t want to be seen going into the house with you. They’ll be saying I’m cheating.” She smiled wanly.

“Just tell them that oral sex isn’t considered cheating.” I meant it as a joke. In fact, it just came out Manisa Escort of my mouth before I thought about it. It’s something I would have said to someone I knew much better without hesitation, but I didn’t really know Eileen. She looked at me with a slightly stunned expression, her jaw slack, her eyebrows arched. I quickly apologized and made an excuse to get out of there.

I hadn’t planned any of that, but I probably couldn’t have played it better if I had. While I don’t deny I had thought about Eileen, I certainly wasn’t making any moves on her. What I wound up doing was planting a seed in her mind. It was inadvertent. At least in as much as I wasn’t really trying to. But I have to say, I was glad that I did.

A couple days later I was walking AJ again and Eileen was outside. We just said hi to each other as I passed and I assumed that I had alienated her with my inappropriate joke.

The following day, the last one of the current house sitting stint, I saw her outside again and decided I should apologize again. Eileen seemed like a nice person and if she was offended by what I said, she had a right to be. I never like to offend people or hurt their feelings. When I do, which happens despite best intentions, I do try to make amends.

“Hi,” I said to her as AJ and I came up to her. Eileen smiled slightly and said hi. “I just wanted to apologize for the other day,” I said. “I shouldn’t have said anything so crass.”

Eileen dismissed my apology with a wave of her hand. “No need,” she said. “It just caught me off guard. I do have a sense of humor. You just surprised me is all.”

“Well, I didn’t mean to offend you,” I told her. “Anyway, Mike and Carol will be back tomorrow, so you won’t have to worry about their ill-mannered house sitter anymore. Not until their next trip anyway.”

I saw a funny look cross her face. I wasn’t really sure what it meant and it vanished in an instant. I pretended I hadn’t noticed and continued making small talk with her for a few more minutes before continuing on my way. By the time I was a couple houses away, I had completely forgotten about it. It wasn’t until after the fact that I realized what that expression was about.

That night I was making myself comfortable as usual in my borrowed accommodations. I had grabbed a beer out of the fridge and was using the high speed internet connection to do some on-line dating. (More on that in another entry.) It was a work night, so I was pretty much settled in for the night. I was startled when the doorbell rang.

I was even more surprised when I looked through the peep hole and saw Eileen standing there.

“Hi,” I said as I opened the door. “Wasn’t expecting company.”

“I just thought I’d take you up on the offer to see the house,” Eileen said. The way she said it made me think of a bad high school play performer reciting a memorized line. But I’m not one to leave a lady standing on the doorstep. I invited her in and offered her a drink.

“Wine would be nice,” she said as she looked around. I brought her a glass, noticing that she wasn’t really showing more than perfunctory interest in the decor. I led her around room to room. She acknowledged the nicer items and made a few comments, but her distraction was becoming more and more evident. By the time I hade guided her around the whole house, her glass was empty.

“Could you freshen this for me?” she asked. Now I’m no fool and I knew something was up. But I like to play it cool until I see what the game is. So I brought Eileen another glass of wine and waited to see what she would do or say.

I should mention that I noticed what she was wearing, as I was doubtlessly supposed to. I was used to seeing her in baggy shorts and cotton blouses in which she did her gardening. Tonight she was wearing a thin, pastel sundress, low cut and fairly short. At least, considering how modest I thought Eileen would be it seemed short. And I could see no panty lines, and I’m a guy who notices a thing like that.

When I handed her the glass of wine, I said and did nothing to indicate I’d noticed anything unusual about her clothes or behavior. I smiled as she took a sip, more of a gulp actually, of her wine and waited. I should point out that I was making lots of eye contact with her. For her part, she was trying to meet my eyes, and would for a moment, but then would look away. There was definitely a charge when our gazes met. But I wasn’t sure where things were going yet.

“Okay,” Eileen said suddenly, putting her wine glass down. “We both know I didn’t come over to see the house. And we both know that little comment of yours the other day was no accident.” She paused, perhaps waiting for me to say or do something, but I was content to let her do the talking. She picked up her glass and took another gulp. She looked at me and I knew she wanted me to agree or at least encourage her to continue. I know she must have been feeling incredibly vulnerable at that moment, so I didn’t leave her hanging too long.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“What you Mavişehir Escort said the other day,” Eileen replied, gesturing with her hand. She said it as if it explained everything. Still I waited. “It is cheating, you know” she continued. I nodded in agreement. I was starting to get turned on. She was dancing around subjects like oral sex and cheating. She was dressed to be noticed. I almost couldn’t wait any longer, but I managed to remain outwardly calm.

“Would you like to sit down?” I gestured to the sofa. We sat down and a long moment passed where neither of us said anything. We just looked at each other.

“My husband always hated doing that,” she blurted out. “I always wanted it more. But he wouldn’t.” Eileen wasn’t looking at me now. Her gaze was on the floor in front of her. She shrugged.

It dawned on me finally why she was here. It wasn’t to have sex (intercourse, that is) with me or give me head. No, she was here to get oral sex. I know what you’re thinking. What a disappointment to a blow job fiend like me, right? Hardly. Pleasing a woman is a wonderful thing and I have, if I may be slightly immodest, some pretty successful techniques. Besides, one thing I’ve always found is you’ve got to give a little to get a little.

“I, uh… this was a mistake,” Eileen said, getting to her feet. I didn’t panic, but I knew I needed to say something. She started toward the door.

“So you took what I said as an invitation?” I asked. She stopped and shrugged.

“Wasn’t it?” Eileen asked, without turning to look at me. “I mean, come on. You’re obviously a player. Why else would you say that?” She turned to face me.

I started to protest, but she held her hand out and shook her head, making any denial useless. I could see that the next move was up to me or she was going to turn tail and run. I stood and guided her back to the sofa. She went willingly, but she seemed brittle, suddenly very tense.

I sat down beside her, laying a hand on her shoulder. I could almost feel the tension radiating from her. I aimed to change that. I leaned toward her and gave her lips a soft kiss. I heard her breath catch and then release at this slight trespass. I knew if I moved too quickly, she would lose her nerve and go home.

I kissed her again, a little longer and deeper this time then I backed away, looking at her eyes to gauge her response. At first her eyes remained closed, expecting another kiss. When the opened, I looked into them intently with what I hoped was a warm, reassuring expression on my face. She started to say something, but I laid my index finger gently on her lips.

“Shhhhh,” I breathed and kissed her again, laying my hand on her thigh as I did. It took several more kisses and some gentle caressing of her shoulder and thigh, but slowly I felt Eileen’s muscles relax. Her breaths became deeper, almost a sighing. She was almost ready.

“Are you sure you want this?” I whispered in her ear. A slight cry escaped her as she nodded her head. That was all I needed to hear. My hand that had been massaging her lower thigh began to work its way under the hem of her dress. I felt a shiver run through her as my hand glided along the inside of her thigh. A low moan broke from her lips as my fingers reached her mound.

As I suspected, she was wearing nothing under her dress. When I reached the top of her leg, I felt her soft pubic hair. I tickled her gently with a finger for a moment before getting between her legs. Eileen lay back on the sofa, one leg on the floor, the other hiked up beside her, exposing her pussy to me. I ran my tongue along her thighs as my fingers continued to lightly brush the outside of her box.

Eileen’s mound was covered with thick black hair. It was a neatly trimmed full triangle, which I like better than the “landing strip” or shaved look. I brushed my nose through her pubes as I jumped my tongue from one thigh to the other.

“Ahhhh!” Eileen moaned, her hips bucking. “Oh, God. Lick me. Lick me, please.” I took my time working up first one thigh, then the other. By the time I actually put my tongue to her clit, she was practically ready to cum. I gave her some slow, light licks just to get her started, but it was enough to send her into a frenzy. I felt like a rodeo cowboy trying to stay on her as her hips gyrated and bucked.

“Oh! Oh, God!” she screamed after only a minute or two of my attentions. Her back arched and her body quivered as she climaxed. As she settled back onto the sofa, I began a slow steady licking of her clit, running my tongue lazily over and around it. Within five minutes, her body was twitching and thrashing as another orgasm built up. When she came the second time, she threw her head back to scream, but no sound escaped, just voiceless air rushing out of her as she exploded again.

I continued to lick her for at least another fifteen or twenty minutes. I’m not sure if she came again, but most of the time she was bucking, squirming and crying out. I could see the sweat glistening on her face as she panted and moaned and gyrated Menderes Escort her hips in ecstasy. Finally, she pushed me away.

“No more,” she sighed. “Can’t take any more.” I gave her one last lick, sucking her clit up between my lips and running my tongue across it. Then I pulled back and sat up. I suspected what would happen next and had already decided how I would play it.

Sure enough, once Eileen had caught her breath, she sat forward on the sofa and reached forward and reached for my pants.

“Oh God that was good,” she whispered as she put her hand on my crotch and started to rub me through my shorts. “Put it in me,” she said.

“Can’t do that,” I told her, gently (if reluctantly) pulling her hand away. “You’re married.”

“Little late to worry about that, isn’t it?” she asked, with a bemused smile.

“Not really. I can still honestly say I haven’t slept with a married woman.”

“You’ve got me there,” she laughed. “I guess I should at least offer to return the favor, but…”

“But what?” I asked.

“Well, I don’t… I haven’t, well, you know…” Eileen’s face grew slightly red. “I told you, my husband and I, we just don’t…”

“That’s okay,” I told her. “You don’t have to do anything for me.”

“But after that,” Eileen replied, sighing, “I really want to. I just, you know…” If she was inexperienced, it could still be good. After all, it isn’t that difficult for a woman to please a man with her mouth. If she was just reluctant though, I would rather pass. First, as I’ve said before, I don’t want a woman to do anything for me that she doesn’t want to. Second, about the only way a woman can ruin a blow job is to not want to give one. The willingness of a woman to take a cock in her mouth is a big part of the turn on.

“Another time,” I said and got up off the sofa. I offered her a hand up. She took my hand, stood and straightened her dress.

“I thought tonight was your last night here,” Eileen said.

“Yeah, but I’m sure I’ll be back again the way those two travel.” She looked at me, her eyes narrowing slightly.

“And you think I’d ever do this again? This is a one-shot deal,” she said, holding up her hand to show her wedding band. “I can’t take a chance like this again.”

“Then I’m glad we made the most of it,” I said and gave her a peck of a kiss. “It really was my pleasure.”

“Yes, but I’m not sure I want it to be over yet.” Eileen reached out for my pants again. “I don’t know if I’m any good at this, but I want to try.” She pulled me back to the sofa and I sat down obediently.

Eileen sat on the sofa beside me and undid my pants. My cock was hard and getting harder at the thought of her lips around it. She looked up at me with a bashful crooked smile and then lowered her head into my lap.

She held my cock gingerly between her thumb and first two fingers and began kissing it all over. I gave her a sigh of encouragement and settled back into the cushions of the sofa. She continued kissing it for several minutes. I wasn’t sure if she just didn’t know what to do next, how soon to go on, or if she was just not ready to have me in her mouth. I started to fidget a little bit and was getting ready to stand up and forget the whole thing when I finally felt her tongue on my shaft.

Again, she seemed to spend a lot, perhaps too much, time licking me. I enjoy being licked, don’t get me wrong. But usually it’s not all I’m getting. Women with more experience will alternate licks and sucks and kisses to keep me stimulated. Again, I wasn’t sure what was holding her back, but I was thinking that maybe this wasn’t such a great idea and I should stop her.

I pushed her back and she looked up in surprise.

“It’s okay,” I reassured her. “You don’t have to.” She just stared at me for a moment. I thought for sure she would jump up and run out, telling me what a jerk I was on the way. But then she took a deep breath and lowered her head back over my cock. This time her lips parted and my head slipped into her mouth. I could feel her tongue flicking frantically at it, almost like she was licking a clit.

It was the first time Eileen’s tongue had touched the head of my cock and I felt myself throb with anticipation. She slid her mouth slowly down my shaft, taking in more than half of it before she stopped. I still felt her tongue working like crazy and I wanted to tell her she was trying to hard, but I didn’t want to discourage her. I waited until her mouth bobbed up and down on my shaft a couple of times and then gave a low moan, “Oh, yeah. That’s it.” Taking her cue from me, she continued to bob, going a little bit faster, gaining confidence with each pass of her lips.

Eileen was half sitting, half kneeling on the sofa, bent over in my lap, so that all I could see was the short brown hair on the back of her head. I wanted to see more, so I stopped her and guided her to the floor between my legs.

“You may find it easier from this position,” I suggested. “Besides, I want to see you.” She hesitated for a second, then knelt between my legs. Then I watched as my straining member disappear into her mouth. Eileen looked so good at that moment, on her knees in her little sun dress, eyes closed as her lips encircled my cock. “Ah, yeah,” I sighed, as much from the sight of her as from the warmth and wetness of her mouth. My words seemed encourage her and her pace quickened.

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

Ming walked around me and inspected the ropes, pulling on them to make sure they were tight. A long thick rope hung down just above my head from the middle of the chandelier and chains, rings and hooks hung down from the sides of the chandelier

Ming addressed the group of The order of Sparta standing around the ring, George, Alexa, Kyoto, and Leonid.

“Tonight we welcome Macy into the order for her ascension ritual. She is to be Helot to George if she passes the ritual. First, we must all taste the seed of the master and then we will each add our seed to the Helot to purify her before the ascension begins. The final Spartan will drink of the Helot’s fluids and that of the Master and the ascension will be done. I will taste first and each of you may choose where you taste the seed. The choice is yours.”

She walked deliberately towards me and dropped to her knees in front of me.

She parted my robe and pressed her sweet mouth against my wet cunt. Her honey lips suckled my pussy and her tongue dipped deep into my hole. With her powerful hands, she cupped my buttocks and pulled my cunt into her hungry mouth, eating me like a delicious treat. I spread wider for her and moaned with delight at her incredible head. I felt an orgasm coming and wanted so badly to cum again for her. I pushed and she pushed back mouthing my whole cunt and sucking up every drop of cum that was leaking out of my cunt. I moaned and gasped and shook with the throes of my eighth orgasm. She stepped back and smiled at me, walking back to the outer ring, she took the whip from George who was to hand it to each of them as part of the ascension with the final lashes given by him. I felt the tension in my stomach and entire body, as I trembled in anticipation.

I had been spanked before and quite aggressively and liked it. A lot actually, but this was next level and I was freaked out. Ming walked slowly back towards me, the power and grace in her movements very intimidating. Her face gave nothing away and I wasn’t sure how this would feel. She stopped in front of me, and squared her legs, swinging without hesitation with a stinging blow to my breasts. I gasped at the instant pain that came to me, and without having time to register or prepare, she delivered the next nine rapidly with force to my breasts, abdomen, and the final two, underhanded swings to my pussy. The last two hurt like hell, but I was determined not to succumb or show weakness. I gritted my teeth and stood tall. She smiled at me and nodded walking back and handing the whip back to George.

The next one walked forward and came inches from my face. She pulled back the hood and I saw the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. She was stunning. This must be Alexa. She grasped my neck hard and pulled me towards her leaning towards my ear she whispered,

“one day soon I am going to torture your cunt into more orgasms than you have ever had in your life,” and with that she kissed me hard and aggressively driving her tongue deep into my mouth and pulling my hair back, wrenching my neck to the side. Her other hand was around my waist lifting both of my feet off of the ground and grinding my sopping wet cunt against her leg that felt like iron. My pussy was still burning from the whip, but her powerful leg felt amazing against my cunt. It was very aggressive and so hot. I ground against her rippling muscles and felt the heat rising in me again. My cunt was burning hot and craving more. She released me hard and looked intensely at me, grasped my breast hard, squeezing and twisting, she whispered, “slut”, smiling at me.

I was completely taken aback by her aggression. I’d never felt that in a woman before and I had to admit it made me really. fucking horny. She stepped forward again and stood inches from me staring down at me, boring her eyes into me, her look suggesting that she could take me and do whatever she wanted. It was intimidating and I tried to hold her stare but broke and lowered my eyes for a second. She grabbed my jaw, squeezing hard, and scowled at me.

“Spartans do not lower their eyes. Ever! Do you understand?”

I nodded in shock and she continued to hold my jaw pulling me hard into her horny mouth, swallowing my tongue, and pulling me off Kemalpaşa Escort the ground again into her rock hard body, sticking her leg again between mine and lifting her marble-like thigh into my wet pussy pulling me by the waist hard into her while she ate my mouth. It’s the only way I could describe it. She was devouring me and not in a gentle way. Her hand held my hair tighter and my neck was bent hard to the side. It hurt and she knew it and didn’t care. She wanted to show me that she could overpower me. I swore at that moment to be better and stronger than her one day to hold her down one day and dominate her like she was doing to me. To show her I wasn’t owned I humped her thigh and kissed her back as hard as she was kissing me. She responded with even more intensity shaking the chandelier as she drove her thigh into my cunt and I drove my cunt back hard into her leg, grinding against her hard muscles, I could feel myself responding and felt an orgasm coming, her tongue driving deep into me, I pushed harder, wanting to come so bad when she released me and smiling said,

“I knew you had it in you,” and then walked away.

I was shaken but so turned on. Holy shit! She was the opposite of Ming but so hot. Her power and strength were incredible. I wanted her badly, to hold me down and grind her cunt into me. To make hard love to me and then turn her and fuck her with equal aggression and intensity.

She moved swiftly to grab the whip and almost bounded back towards me and without breaking stride, she stood behind me, parted my legs with a kick from her foot, swinging hard from behind me, the whips nine ends bit into the soft flesh of my pussy and I arched in pain, pulling myself up hard with the ropes as she delivered the rest to my inner thighs and cunt, standing behind me the whole time. Fuck it hurt and her strokes were much harder than Mings. She walked past me grinning, the fucking bitch. I glared at her and saw that Ming was giving her a hard look as well. It was extreme and my pussy was on fire. She would pay for that one day. Oddly I wanted someone to touch and rub me to take away the stinging and burning sensation.

The next Spartan stepped forward, and in one motion, dropped his robe, took three quick steps, like lightning towards me, did a fast cartwheel, a roundhouse, and then launched himself into the air grabbing the rope over my head and hosting himself high over me. He was hanging and swinging from the chandelier, naked and slowly lowering himself down. What the hell was that!

He lowered down in front of me and his hairless, naked body swung gently into my chest, his legs spread wide in a perfect aerial split, his cock and balls touching my breasts, allowing him to slow down until he hung suspended in front of me, still holding the splits. His strength and agility were insane. It was Kyoto and his body defied description. He had incredible muscle detail and his veins were rippling and popping all over. He had one tattoo, around his cock and balls, but I couldn’t make it out in the dark hue of the room. He slowly pulled himself up and moving his hips toward my mouth I heard him say,

“Open,” and I obediently opened my mouth wide to accept his almost perfect cock, which had a beautiful thick mushroom head, a thick vein, twirling down the slightly curved shaft that was surrounded by two perfect, hairless balls, that were thick and full of cum. It was gorgeous and the tattoo made it look so exotic.

He hung in front of me, his cock and balls swinging forward with his body, towards my open mouth. With one quick move, he lifted his legs over my shoulders, pulled himself up, and hooked his feet under my arms, curling them in against my breasts and ribcage met. He locked them in tight with his rock hard cock touching my lips. I opened wide and he thrust it slowly into my mouth, pushing it all the way in, to where I was almost gagging. I relaxed my throat and breathing and took him deep into my mouth. He had the faint smell of cinnamon and sweat mixed together and the aroma was heavenly. I sucked him deep into my mouth and he pulled into me with his arms and hips grinding against my mouth. It was so hot. I had my arms tied to a medieval Konak Escort chandelier and I was being fucked in the mouth by a beautiful Asian warrior. I wanted his sweet cum so bad. I wanted him to fill my mouth and pump it down my throat. I opened wider and sucked him all the way down to his beautiful balls.

He began lifting himself and thrusting at the same time, slow, deliberate and deep thrusts into my willing Helot mouth. I pursed my lips and sucked sweetly on his shaft, my tongue caressing it as it plunged down into my throat. My legs were spread wide and my arms overheard were hurting, but I wasn’t ready to submit to anything but the sex that was making me so horny. I thought I would explode with the number of orgasms I’d had already. He pumped faster now and his body covered in a glossy sheen of sweat was magnificent. I could feel he was going to cum soon and I put more pressure down with my lips on his beautiful cock.

Suddenly he pulled out and dropped to the ground, rolling forward as he landed, he stood behind me, breathing deeply, not moving. My mouth ached, my arms felt numb and heavy and my cunt was dripping with pussy juice and cum mixed together. It felt like an eternity and I noticed my legs shaking a bit. This was really a test of endurance. His hand slid between my legs and his fingers curled up against my sweet mound, as he pulled me back against his glistening torso, I could feel his hard cock against my ass. So this was going to be the anal sex part of the ascension. I was glad to have this beautiful man’s cock inside my ass. I knew it would hurt at first, but it was so perfect and exotic. I wanted him badly, to feel that sweet, curve of his cock, enter me and widen my eager ass.

He took his wet finger and rubbed around my hole, holding me close with his other hand reaching around me and cupping my breast, squeezing and teasing my nipple. He inserted his finger slowly into my hole, moving in and out and around. He went a little faster, stretching my hole, and soon had another finger in. It hurt but I pushed my hips back and spread my willing legs wide for him. My hole stretched as he went faster and deeper, and soon he was driving his hand hard into my hole, his other hand, palming and fingering my hot cunt. I was out of my head with desire. He took his hand slick with my pussy juices and slicked up his cock, nudging the head against my honey hole.

He pushed into my ass. grabbing my hips as I parted my thighs, it slid in like a clever serpent, pushing past my anal ring and filling me completely. It was right and hurt as my ass adjusted to its girth. I gasped in pain and ecstasy as his cock filled my voluptuous ass. He began pumping and pulling my hips back in rhythm, the chandelier chains rattling and candle wax dripping as he growled and grunted and finally gave one enormous push and pull of my hips and blasted a huge load deep into my ass. He shook and trembled pushing hard into me, filling me with his sweet cum. It was a big load and the warm cum felt amazing in my ass.

He pulled out slowly, and bent down behind me, spreading my cheeks, and licking and sucking his cum, mixed with the Masters out of my shapely ass. It was divine. I heard him walk away and I trembled as he grabbed the whip from George and came back to give me ten lashes. I knew it was going to be on my ass and he was fierce. They were fast and hard without a break and each one hurt more than the last until my ass burned with the fire of the whip. Finally, he was done and he kissed the nape of my neck, his hand gently stroking the soft, battered curves of my ass, he whispered in my ear,

“One Day you will be mine.”

What the hell did he mean by that. I was in a Helot ceremony for his business partner and he was trying to claim me. I felt a sense of betrayal for George and it made me distrust Kyoto.

Finally one left, the infamous Leonid. He just stood for a minute and stared at me, sweating from head to toe, covered in red marks from the whip, cum leaking out of my ass and my pussy red and wet with my juices and George’s cum. My mouth was dry and my body ached. As if sensing this, Ming walked forward with a brown gourd. She gently tilted my head back and I Kuşadası Escort drank greedily from the gourd, not even thinking to ask what it was. I knew by now that her tea always seemed to have what I needed. She whispered,

“This will numb the pain and keep you lubricated. You can do this. Let your mind escape to a place of safety.”

With that, Leonid came forward.

As he walked forward, he slowly let his robe fall, his powerful physique evident even in the dim light of the ceremony room. He emitted an aura of danger, different than Kyoto. Kyoto’s energy was a bit sinister, Leonid had the aura of someone who got what he wanted, whenever he wanted, and would do anything to get his own way. His power turned me on. He walked slowly around me like he was inspecting me and it made me anxious. He stopped in front of me, his amazing physique on full display, powerful chest, defined shoulders, and big arms, well-muscled torso and his legs looked very strong, thickly muscled, like a soccer or rugby player. He was tall about 6′ but stocky. He had dirty blond hair and penetrating blue eyes, that were looking deeply into mine. Mine were staring back, having just glanced at his thick, veiny cock, with a swollen head and gorgeous, big balls, meaty and bouncy. He was very sexy and handsome. He leaned towards me inches from my face and just stared. I stared back and he just said one word,

“Good.”

He then launched into a savage, sexual possession of me. Both of his very strong and big hands grabbed my hips and pulled me up into him as he slid that big cock into my wet pussy, he attacked my mouth, kissing me with an unrivaled intensity. Alexa was rough, but he was consuming. Practically drinking in my tongue and mouth as he power fucked me, holding me up as he drove his cock fast in and out of my soaking wet cunt. The entire chandelier was shaking with his wild thrusts as he bucked and pulled me into him, my arms stretched wide, fucking me like a wild beast, his cock a battering Ram against my weary body. I was moving with him as much as I could but he had me held tightly and under his control. I felt him move faster and his grunts get louder. His fingers were digging hard into my ass and he pulled my cheeks apart and began fingering my ass as he fucked me at the same time. The sensation of both holes being rammed, my cunt by his thick cock and my ass with his strong and thick finger was incredible. I was moaning and gasping, completely lost to his intense fucking. He drove his finger deeper, lifting me high into him, his cock relentless, fucking me deeply and hard.

He took out his finger and grabbed my hair, pulling me into his hungry mouth and fucking me faster and faster till I was almost thrashing around like a rag doll until, he pulled back and grabbed me with both hands under my ass and drove really hard deep into my ass, letting out a loud yell as he emptied his thick balls into my cunt. He came a lot and it was incredible. The force of his cum, was amazing. I could feel him blasting inside of me, shaking his hips against mine as he shuddered in the throes of his orgasm. He held me tight till he finished shaking and then pulled out slowly, smiling at me the whole time. I smiled back and he walked over to George to get the whip. He came back and bent down in front of me, reaching around to pull my ass forward, he sucked my pussy lips, greedily, tasting his cum, my juices and George’s all mixed together. The ritual of sex was done. I only had to survive 110 lashes and I would ascend to the Order of Sparta. I almost fainted thinking about it.

He wasted no time, standing up he delivered 10 hard lashes to my ass, pussy and breasts. He wasn’t gentle either. His swings were full and hard and my body was stinging and sore already.

George took the whip from him and stepped into the circle. He removed his robe and I saw that he had a raging hard-on, but was wearing fundoshi. He started immediately, his face revealing nothing. If he was feeling sympathetic he didn’t show it and his whipping revealed none of that either. I lost count after 20 and after what seemed an eternity, he

was done. I was barely standing, my legs trembling and I was only able to keep from passing out from sheer determination and Ming’s drink which had done its job. I didn’t feel much of George’s whipping after 20 hits and I felt numb now.

I heard Ming as if she were miles away.

“George, release your Helot. She has ascended into the order of Sparta.”

That was the last thing I remembered before passing out.

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Music washed over Karen, as soft and soothing as the caresses of her master, the Maestro. She had been bound, she had been beaten by him, and now she knelt by him as he reclined on the couch, his eyes closed in appreciation of the peace which the music brought.

One hand rested on Karen’s neck, fingers curled beneath her chin to hold her head up, keep her back erect. On her haunches she felt like an obedient pet, waiting for the Maestro to acknowledge her, to offer some small sign of affection or approval.

Out of the corner of her eye, not turning until Maestro said she could, Karen was aware of his other hand moving to his lap, then drawing the loose kaftan he wore up his legs. Then there was a gentle pressure on her neck, he tilted her head and she saw his strong thighs bared, his fingers slipping between them. She gazed down with love, with veneration, until the fingers curled beneath her chin slowly raised her head to gaze into the eyes of the Maestro. There was the hint of a smile in those eyes, a gentle curve to the lips and the slightest suggestion of a nod, at which she lowered her head, kissed his thighs, buried her face in his lap.

The loving way Maestro caressed her neck could as easily bring tears to her eyes as any pain he has caused her, after the way he had used her she could only love him all the more for the kindness he now showed.

*

He was rumoured to be a hard task-master, he was a perfectionist and demanded nothing less than perfection from those in his charge. As he walked across the stage Karen was struck by his athletic grace, he was tall and heavily built but he moved with an ease which belied his bulk. It was when he stepped up onto the conductor’s podium, though, when he tossed back his head and that mane of long blonde hair, when he raised his arms as if to embrace them all, it was then that she felt in awe of the power which he exuded.

‘Scheherezade, the Entrance of the Kalendar Prince,’ he announced, his voice deep and sonorous, reverberating richly about the concert hall, and brought his arms down, the baton held lightly in his right hand.

As Karen drew the bow across the violin strings she felt as if it was stroking her heart, drawing music from her soul, her whole body quivered to hear the orchestra swell, to feel herself under the control of the man before her.

Her eyes flicked incessantly from the score to the Maestro, from the ink-black of the musical notation to the jet of his eyes, and she played with more passion than ever before, uplifted by the music, orchestrated by the Maestro, her body swaying in time with his baton.

There was a sweat on her brow, her cheeks were flushed, she wore a long thin cotton skirt to the rehearsal and beneath it, between her thighs, she could feel herself becoming wet.

This was passion, pure and unadulterated…..surely!

‘No! No! No!’ said the Maestro, tapping his baton vigorously against the podium. ‘I sense no feeling! You play like automata rather than musicians with soul! Now again! From the beginning!’

And so they began again, and again, and each time Karen’s soul seemed lifted ever higher until she felt that it was soaring. Sweat was pouring from her, it ran in rivulets between her breasts, across her belly, along her thighs. There was a tingling numbness in her fingertips from the constant vibration of the strings, every muscle quivered and ached, and at the very heart of the sensation, the epicentre of this, was her groin. Though she was wet she was also afire, it felt as if the bow had been stroking there, the fine strands drawn across her swollen labia rather than across the violin.

When the Maestro finally called a halt to the rehearsal, after a punishing three hours, she felt overcome by weariness, as if her body had been used by him, and she slumped in her seat, elbows resting on knees, bow and violin hanging loosely from her hands.

‘We will resume tomorrow morning and hope for better,’ the Maestro said, stepping down from the podium and crossing the stage. ‘And you, First Violinist-‘ he added.

‘Yes Maestro?’ said Karen, looking up.

‘I will see you in my dressing room when you have packed away your instrument,’ he said, and was gone.

Quickly Karen packed bow and violin into the case, snapped it shut and stood. Her bare arms were breaking out in goose bumps, now the sweat was cooling on her, and she shivered as she crossed the stage, then again more violently as she entered the bare corridor behind and walked along to the dressing rooms. The goose bumps were spreading, she was no longer sure of the cause, and she felt a shivering which was almost like a trembling in her legs as she reached the door to the Maestro’s dressing room.

She knocked hesitantly, and then again a little harder.

‘One moment!’ came the answer, and then, maybe a minute later, ‘Enter!’

Entering, Karen immediately saw that the Maestro had changed, that gone were the grey slacks and white shirt, the soft black moccasins; now he wore what seemed to be a Gaziemir Escort long kaftan of some fine muslin or cotton, open at the neck and coming down almost to his bared feet. Even more relaxed than his dress, though, was his attitude, sprawled full length on the couch, his baton still in his hand and idly twirling it between his fingers.

Put your instrument case down in the corner and then come over here,’ he told her, using lazy gestures of the baton to direct her, first to her right where she set down the violin case, and then to a spot beside the couch which she stepped forward to take up.

‘So, First Violin? Yes?’ he said, his eyes slowly moving up her body to meet hers, but before Karen could answer he cut the air with his baton to silence her. ‘No! Fiddle, more like! That is what you are! Fiddle!’

Stunned by his harsh tone, by the unexpected words, Karen’s mouth fell open and the single word escaped her lips. ‘Maestro?’

‘You played with passion, I grant you that, you put in effort and labour,’ he continued slowly, in his low deep timbre. ‘But you played without discipline, too wildly.’ The baton was raised, to caution against any protests or interruptions. ‘Whores exhibit passion, servants and maids offer effort and labour. Would you consider yourself any of those?’ he asked, smiling to offer a pause in which she might now answer.

‘No, Maestro,’ she managed to respond.

‘A lack of discipline gives a slipshod interpretation,’ he went on, ‘and if the interpretation is slipshod, Fiddle, it means that you are not paying attention to me. I do not merely conduct the orchestra, I orchestrate you, make you dance to my tune. Is that sinking in, Fiddle?’

‘Yes, Maestro,’ said Karen, lowering her eyes a little, feeling her cheeks burn with shame each time he called her by that derogatory name.

‘Good,’ he said, and now permitted a slight smile to break, lines forming at the corners of his deep dark eyes, his lips curling and parting to show the strong even teeth. ‘And we have passion, at least. I witnessed that. And guess that we have the evidence of that still.’

Dropping his hand lazily at the side of the sofa, the Maestro hooked his baton beneath the hem of her skirt and then slowly began to lift it, baring her legs, her knees, the swell of her thighs. He pushed the baton in further beneath her skirt, brought it up higher until finally it touched her knickers, at which point he twirled it in his fingers so that the slender length of wood rolled to the left and the right, moulding the smooth silk against her swelling labia.

‘Hold up your skirt and let me see, Fiddle,’ he said, in such a calm and even tone that he could not be denied.

With trembling hands Karen took hold of her skirt, bunched it high about her waist so that the Maestro could see the full length of her thighs, her flat belly, the brief white knickers which his baton held pressed against her cunt.

Yes, we have evidence of your passion, I see a damp patch there,’ said the Maestro, and began to stroke the baton slowly back and forth so that her labia seemed to swell and pout around it, almost kissing it.

His eyes were fixed on hers as he aroused her, and it was indeed as if she was dancing to his tune, her legs trembled and her hips swayed, she could feel her breasts swell beneath her blouse and she wanted to drive her body onto that flimsy wand in some frenzied tarantella.

Suddenly, unexpectedly, the Maestro withdrew the baton from between Karen’s thighs, making it rasp against the moist silk as it came free. Swinging his feet to the floor, standing, he walked around her and her eyes followed him as he went to his dressing table. There was fruit there, juice, the usual variety of food and drink which a maestro or virtuoso would require in his dressing room. He filled a glass with wine, raised the rich tawny liquid to his mouth and wetted his lips with it.

Silhouetted against the mirror, the bright naked bulbs which were burning all around it made the thin material of his kaftan quite transparent. The contours of his body were clearly defined beneath it, the comforting breadth of his shoulders, the almost feminine slimness of his waist, the firm solidity of his thighs….and between them, between the splayed legs, the dark outline of his tumescent prick hanging low and heavy.

‘Turn around, Fiddle!’ he ordered, for though his back was turned to her Karen realised that he had been watching her in the mirror.

Quickly Karen turned her head, gazed at the blank wall before her, the empty couch beneath her.

‘Now what I require of your playing is discipline, Fiddle,’ she heard the Maestro say. ‘How might we best instil that in you, do you think?’

‘I don’t know, Maestro,’ she answered.

There was a pause, and then she felt his hands rest lightly on her shoulders. He must have turned, he had moved close to her, and she could feel the heat of his body no more than an inch away from hers.

‘Let your skirt fall, Güzelbahçe Escort Fiddle,’ he told her, and, when she did so, said, ‘Unfasten it, let it drop, step out of it.’

Karen moved her hands behind her to find the single button which fastened it, felt her fingers graze the Maestro’s belly momentarily as she fumbled with it. Then the skirt was free, slid smoothly down her legs to form a pool at her feet.

‘Good girl,’ he said, and with a gentle pressure on her shoulders he turned her to face the mirror. ‘Now lean forward, rest your hands on the dressing table.’

Karen did as she was told, bending forward from his touch, resting her hands flat on the polished wood of the dressing table to take her weight. She chanced a glance in the mirror, saw the Maestro squatting before the valise which was beside the couch. It would hold his toiletries, a change of clothes, perhaps more batons, and as he finished rummaging in it and began to rise again she quickly averted her gaze, fixing her eyes on the grain of the wood between her hands.

There was a soft purr of the throat, as if the Maestro sensed her obedience and approved of it, she was aware of the fragrance of the fruit and wine to one side of her, conscious of how her cunt was still wet and warm and swollen.

Then the Maestro broke the silence.

I think the best way to begin instilling discipline is by introducing Fiddle to my Cat,’ he said, a threatening mischief now in his voice, and when she heard the air hiss behind her she almost raised her head, turned, until he snapped, ‘No! Head bowed! Eyes down!’

Then the first blow of the lash struck her, the slender leather strands of the Maestro’s cat o’nine tails wrapping themselves around her arse, her thighs, biting so hard and so deep that they surely tore the fabric of her knickers.

Karen gave out a yelp as her body bucked and her back arched, her head coming up but her eyes now closed, so great had the pain been.

‘Be still! Learn discipline!’ the Maestro ordered her, and he gave her a moment to compose herself, to bow her head once more, before he delivered the second blow.

A wayward strand of the lash seemed to wrap itself around her waist this time, in a stinging embrace, and as the Maestro drew back his hand for the third blow she felt her body tugged towards him, against the cock which had now grown erect.

‘Nice, but not just yet,’ he said, pushing her back towards the dressing table with a nudge of his hips, and the next blow made Karen scream out loud.

‘Such wonderful acoustics we have in here!’ remarked the Maestro, the blows coming continuously now, first with a forehand stroke, then with a backhand slash, as much vigour in his beating of her as there had been in the conducting of the orchestra.

Karen’s body slowly slumped lower, her arms trembled and her knees were close to buckling. At last she had to rest her head on the dressing table, her cheek wet with tears against her hands, the fingers of one hand knitted tightly around the other.

It was only then, as the sobs shook her body, that the blows stopped.

‘You acquitted yourself admirably, you take to discipline well,’ she heard the Maestro say, but was too weak to respond.

Then she felt his fingers hooking in the waist of her knickers, slowly stretching the elastic, then easing them down over her stinging buttocks. He must have gone to his knees as he tugged them to her ankles, for now she felt his lips touch each buttock, kissing them softly, and then his coarse tongue licking them. And as his saliva cooled on her flesh it brought such a sweet relief.

‘Nice, Fiddle? It makes the pain worthwhile?’ the Maestro asked, his tongue now licking beneath the cheeks, hardening like a cock to work its way between them.

Oh yes, Maestro!’ Karen gasped, laughing away her tears and parting her legs a little.

His tongue was a marvellous instrument, it probed and caressed as well as any fingers could have, found the crinkled hole of her arse and licked it, poked it, his face pressing hard against her as he licked to the very lips of her cunt.

Such a virtuoso! she thought.

As his tongue finally withdrew she felt his hands on her ankles, then his fingertips running up her calves, her flanks, resting on her hips as he stood once more. Circling her waist, he pulled her against his groin so that she could feel his erection against her, then ran his hands up higher, over her ribs to cup her breasts, raising her up from the dressing table. His fingers nimbly unfastened her blouse and parted it, then returned to her bared breasts, strumming her nipples in a quick pizzicato. Then he held her with one arm, his large hand covering her breast as if for her modesty, raised the other to her neck to caress her there, then ran it down her back, along the soft indentation of her spine.

Karen opened her eyes and saw the two of them reflected in the mirror, she caught in his embrace, he nuzzling her neck and kissing İzmir Masaj Salonları her ear, his hidden hand in the small of her back, then at her buttocks. She felt him foraging in the folds of his kaftan, then the material grazing her as it was lifted. Naked thighs now pressed against her, strong and firm, with a soft down of hair on them, and his cock which he had taken in his hand being stroked up and down the crack between her buttocks.

The tip was wet, slick, the shaft was firm but all he did was stroke it against her, smearing her with its sticky juices.

Patience, Fiddle,’ he said, when he felt Karen press back against him. ‘Patience goes hand in hand with discipline. Both make passion more enjoyable.’

His hands moved to her shoulders, pulled her blouse from them, she raised her arms slightly so that he could slip it from her. Then she heard the material tearing, in the mirror saw his strong hands ripping the thin cotton into long strips.

Maestro-?’

‘Ssh,’ he said softly, drawing her hands behind her to bind them, then her elbows, and finally her uppers arms, a long strip pinning them and winding twice around her chest like a makeshift bandage, squashing her breasts. With an easy movement he spun her and lifted her, sat her on the edge of the dressing table.

Maestro has full control now, yes?’ he said, reaching out to the nipple which protruded from her twice bound breast, and he twisted it and tugged it like a dog worrying a rubber bone, or an early bird a worm.

‘Yes Maestro!’ Karen agreed, hissing at the pain.

‘Good!’ he smiled, releasing the nipple and reaching past her to take up his baton once more.

Then he began to move it slowly through the air before her, tracing an intricate arabesque which her eyes followed hypnotically. From his deep chest there came a low bass rumble as he hummed softly, the tune they had rehearsed earlier, its cadences and cascades rising and falling so seductively that they sent a thrill through her groin. Her upper body was bound, her arms were pinned at her sides, her hands tied behind her, but her legs still hung free and she parted them. An hour before, two hours, and she would not have believed herself capable of such a blatant act, but now she was baring her cunt to this man.

A downward cut of the baton brought a sudden silence from the Maestro, his hand fell and the baton rested loosely in his fingers, pointing down to the floor. Then, like a water diviner closing on some hidden spring, his fingers twitched, the slender rod flicked and moved haltingly between her thighs.

‘The fount of all wisdom, the well of desire,’ said the Maestro, making subtle circular motions with the tip of the baton, stroking Karen’s labia and then parting them, letting the polished wood slip between them.

Karen clamped her thighs together so viciously that she might have snapped off the tip, then relaxed and clenched her cunt a second time to draw it deeper, asked with heavy-lidded eyes that the Maestro help.

Nodding, understanding her need, the Maestro inserted the baton deeper, worked it around inside her, searching until he felt the swollen bud of her clitoris, and like a metal tongue clapping against the cup of a bell it raised a song inside her, made her whole body resonate.

‘Oh Maestro!’ Karen sobbed.

‘Sweet, but not enough?’ he wondered.

‘Oh so sweet!’ she told him.

‘But not enough!’ he told her, and she knew this was true, the Maestro knew it to be true, he could see in her eyes the need for something more.

With a final tap against her clitoris he pulled out the baton and tossed it aside, then began to tantalisingly raise his kaftan, lifting it slowly, his eyes never leaving hers as he challenged her not to look down.

With the discipline she was learning Karen kept her eyes on his, smiling into them and hoping he could recognise her love, held her gaze fixed even when he raised his kaftan above his head to mask his face for a moment.

Even the kaftan fluttering like a blurred white moth when he tossed it aside did not break the spell which held her, she caught it only in the periphery of her vision.

Nudging Karen’s parted thighs a little wider, then Maestro then took a pace forward to insert his body between them, rested his hands on her knees and squeezed gently.

‘More?’ he asked, waited for just the slightest nod from Karen, at which he took a hand from her knee and moved his erect cock up onto the edge of the dressing table.

She knew that she could look now, knew that she had to, and when she cast her eyes down to see the tip weeping -weeping for her!- she felt like crying with joy, with need.

Oh how she needed it, needed him, and her eyes entreated him, she tried to shuffle her bound body closer to the edge of the dressing table. But the Maestro took pity on her, perhaps now even felt the same need himself, for his hands caught her at the waist and lifted her bodily from the dressing table, clutched her to him as he turned and lowered her onto his magnificent erection.

Instinctively her free legs wrapped around him, gripping him with a strength which matched his own as he walked her slowly back to the couch, each step he took stirring his cock inside her. There he bent forward, lowered her slowly down and then lay on top of her, his cock never once leaving her.

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

Jane sat before the mirror, applying lipstick to her rosy lips. Her fiancé Paul watched her thoughtfully.

“Why do you need all that, just to see your sisters?” He asked.

“Paul, you know what Emily and Lynn are like, they’d jump on me if they saw the slightest imperfection!”

Paul shook his head. He loved Jane but he would never understand her relationship with her sisters. The Clark sisters seemed to bring out the worst in Jane. He disliked how they inflamed her competitive streak. Once, they had dared her to dye her hair the colours of the flag. She’d done it, knowing full well that she’d lose her job for contravening the prohibition on ‘unnatural hair colorants’! She was the brain in the family, but even she could lose all perspective where they were concerned.

Actually Emily wasn’t too bad and Paul was usually able to get along with her. Unfairly God had neither blessed her with looks or brains. The combination meant that she was vain, insecure and apt to follow either of her sisters’ crazy plans.

Lynn was the one he disliked. She knew she was the hot one. Jane, the youngest sister, was classically beautiful but Lynn, even at 35, always looked as if she could have just come in from nude modelling at the beach or something. She had come tops in the height and breast department too. In Paul’s opinion, she dressed like a tramp. She ran her own business and was very successful too. He had heard somewhere that some business people often tested with mild symptoms of psychopathology and he could believe it of Lynn. Her determination and drive were scary and there was a hard look in her eyes sometimes, like no one else existed.

+++++++

When Jane got to the house she found Emily trying to console a tearful Lynn.

“What’s the matter?” Jane asked Emily, after Lynn had been unable to answer her due to the floods of tears.

“Graeme is cheating on her, she thinks.” Emily replied quietly.

“I think he’s been having an affair since he found out he was sterile. All the heat’s gone from my marriage and I can’t do anything about it.” Lynn sputtered between sobs.

“She’s not going to ask Graeme about it. She’s too scared what his Karabağlar Escort answer will be!” Added Emily.

“Paul would never be unfaithful to me.” Jane added, a trace of smugness in her voice.

Well, thought Lynn, if you can’t count on family for support, who can you count on? She stopped crying at once and fixed a steely gaze on her sisters.

“Time for liquor I think!”

After a short while, and several shots later Lynn leant over to Jane,

“What do you mean that Paul would never be unfaithful?”

“Me and Paul tell each other everything right? I think I shocked him when I told him I’d cheated on Brad Carmichael, remember him?”

The sisters nodded; casting their minds back to the pimply teenager Jane had dated.

“I was a bit puzzled by how upset Paul was. He only settled down when I told him I was 16 and I’d never done anything like that since.” Jane continued,

“Well then he told me that his father had cheated on his mum, left her for another woman and broke her heart. He swore at the age of fifteen that he would never be the type of man that let his penis rule his heart. He’s never cheated on a single girlfriend.”

“Jane, do you have to say penis? It’s so middle-class respectable.” Complained Lynn, “what about Simon, Emily?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Ummm possibly…”

“Possibly? God Emily” Jane muttered.

“Well! Come on, you know Simon. I doubt he has the brainpower for an affair! If a woman came on to him it might be a different story…. how likely is that, though, really?” laughed Emily.

Jane and Lynn both brought up an image of dependable Simon. He didn’t have a bad face but he was bald, wore glasses, and was of average height and skinny. They couldn’t help joining in with Emily’s laughter.

“All men want to cheat. If they think they can get away with it, they will,” Said Lynn, “most of the time though they’re too scared of getting caught.”

“That’s not true! Come on, I’m the only woman that Paul wants!” Jane interjected.

“If you gave him permission to cheat, I’m sure he’d do it, I don’t have a doubt!”

“He wouldn’t.” Jane replied angrily.

Lynn Karaburun Escort leant forward conspiratorially.

“Care to wager?”

Jane couldn’t help being intrigued. Emily just sat there, bewildered.

“Well…”Lynn elaborated, “how about…each of us tells her man that she’d forgive him if he were to cheat on her…. then we try to seduce them…”

“Yeah, that’s all well and good, but how far would we have to go?” Said Jane.

“Come on, don’t be prudish, I know you both enjoy sex!”

“What if Paul or Graeme told Simon?” Emily asked, worried.

“They wouldn’t. Don’t you see? They all have too much to lose. Look, if we all promise not to get uptight about this it could be interesting.” Said Lynn, glancing at her sisters, knowing she had them on the hook.

“Okay.” Smiled Emily, dumbly.

“Wait,” Jane interrupted, ” you said something about a wager….”

“Yeah, okay. How about I gave each of you $10,000 if you snag one of our men, and a further $10,000 if your man stays faithful….” Explained Lynn.

“What do you get out of this?” Queried Jane, suspiciously.

“Nothing, ‘cept that I’d be comforted by the fact that I wasn’t the only one of us with an bastard unfaithful husband.”

“Jane’s not married to Paul, yet….” Exclaimed Emily, smiling at her own cleverness.

Her sisters both rolled their eyes.

“Okay…”Replied Jane thoughtfully.

“You sure?” Responded Lynn, eager for confirmation.

“That $20,000 sure would be handy.” Said Jane.

“You’re that confident that Paul won’t take one of us offered to him a plate?” Added Lynn.

“Absolutely!” Said Jane, and she was.

+++++++++

“How’d it go with Lynn and Emily” Asked Paul when Jane returned home.

“Lynn thinks Graeme has slept with someone else.”

Paul was shocked. He didn’t know Graeme well, but had seen the way his soon to be brother-in-law had an eye for the ladies.

“God, is she alright? Is she going to confront him? Divorce him?” Paul asked his fiancée. However he felt about Lynn, she didn’t deserve this!

“Hell no, she’s just going to pretend that she doesn’t Karşıyaka Escort know anything.” Jane answered.

“I can’t understand how any one can just forget about something like that. I’d be devastated if you cheated on me.”

“Aw baby, you know I’d never cheat on you, but it’s different for women. We understand that it’s sometimes just about sex with you guys and that you can love us and still sleep with someone else. I’d hardly bat an eyelid if you made a silly mistake, if you couldn’t help yourself.”

“God Jane! Really? It’s all about decisions, whether you’re a man or woman. You can decide to stay faithful or to cheat. I know that I’d never cheat on you; I just wouldn’t decide to stray. A man can keep his penis in his pants, if he wants to, you know?” Paul said honestly. He was a little shocked at Jane’s attitude towards fidelity, sure that he’d never given her any reason to doubt him.

“Oh I know you wouldn’t cheat. I guess I meant that our marriage, when we get married, will survive anything.” Jane had added hastily.

She kissed him to appease him. She leant over and turned off the lamp and pushed him on to the bed. In the darkened room she pulled of his vest and ran her fingers over his chest. She loved how smooth he was, muscled but not solid, soft really, but hard in all the right places.

Her hand was there now, stroking him through his pyjama bottoms. She continued to idly masturbate him as she kissed his neck and nibbled on his ear. He whispered sweet nothings to her, his breath becoming shallower.

“Make love to me, Paul.” She sighed as she lay down.

He ran his hand over her satin-sheathed body, getting excited as her nipples responded to his light touch. He cupped and kissed her breasts in the darkness.

He passed her musky crotch, only glancing it with his mouth, smiling as she groaned as he passed on.

He kissed her toes provoking soft giggles from a ticklish Jane. As Paul began to creep back her body he glided up the long fabric, touching her now naked legs as he went. Pushing her legs apart rested above her, supported by his arms. She pulled her gown over her head and Paul lowered himself onto her, and into her.

Kissing the whole time he was stroking into her, they came together and feel asleep in each other’s arms, happy and blissful.

++++++

Over the next week Emily and Lynn also told their men that they’d forgive them if they cheated.

The game was on: all it needed was someone to make the first move!

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I was hoping to get home early. Take a shower, blow dry my hair, do my makeup. I could not wait to put on my new dress, though I still felt weary at the thought of the new heels my friend had insisted on making me buy to complete the ensemble. I had been looking forward to the party all week. Responsible girl that I am, I had been studying relentlessly for my finals and I had just submitted my final paper when I got “The Call”.

“The Call” is what has been happening ever since my boyfriend got his dream internship. It was another case of “Babe, I’m so sorry! I won’t be back until tomorrow so I’m going to have to pass on tonight. Again. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

Paul, that’s his name, is a fellow senior in his final year of mechanical engineering. A professor of his, who also consulted with a large and successful mining company had made him his protégé. This meant he worked with him on developing a new arm for some drilling mechanism… To be honest, I never pay too much attention to the details. My father found the work fascinating. At least he did that one time they met.

Engineers are abundant in my family, from a handful of cousins to my father and uncles who are computer and electronic engineers. Some of my cousins who are more artsy are architects and industrial designers, but that’s as far as anyone strays. So when I declared my major to be literature after I had forced myself through two rounds of calculus and basic Physics, my mother begged me to at least consider a career in administration or economics.

My mother is an accountant. No matter that she had once wanted to be a journalist, she bowed down to parental pressure and pursued a career in accounting. Her father had been a mechanical engineer, which made my mom think he would have loved my new boyfriend. They had been curious to meet him ever since my sister had let slip I was seeing someone “seriously” since this summer. My sister is an architect who married an architect. She was pregnant, with what I am certain will be the first of her many architect babies.

Do not get me wrong, I love my family, but when the odd man out is my cousin the pharmacologist, I knew me pursuing my undergraduate degree raised more than a few eyebrows at the family barbecue. That may be why I allowed my boyfriend to pick me up from a family party where he briefly met my parents while my sister made sure to delay my leaving.

Part of me was looking for approval. I might not be following in my family’s footsteps but a boyfriend who did had to earn me a few brownie points, right? I think it did with my mother who thought he was a charming young man. My dad simply asked what I thought of the current project he was working on, was it not fascinating? They’ve asked me a couple of times about him since that day, but not insistently.

He is the first guy I have ever brought home to meet the parents, albeit briefly. I therefore have no idea whether my parents were simply being polite or genuinely pleased and wishing to get to know him better. I usually keep any answer short and they never pushed.

My boyfriend never pushed either. We kept things light. He was busy with classes and his internship while I spent time putting together applications to master programs around the country. My first choice is of course to stay at my Alma Mater who has a great creative writing program, but I do not want to take any chances and risk not having a fall back plan.

Running after professors for letters of recommendations, writing application essays and refining my short stories for entrance consideration took over most of my free time so I did not complain much when my boyfriend started cancelling on plans we may have had for the evening but when they started to encroach on weekend dates, I complained. He apologized, promising that by the 17th of December he would be done and spend the holiday break lavishing his time on me, I caved and let it slip.

That was at the beginning of November. Since then, I’ve been lucky to get more than two evenings with him each week. We rarely go out, spending evenings at my apartment having dinner in the leaving room while watching movies, followed by customary sex. The sex had been somewhat satisfying at the beginning. We would make-out for a long time where we would tease each other and dry hump until we could not take it anymore and off went the clothes and he would finger me and sometimes lick me to orgasm and the groins would get together and he’d come in a condom I still forced him to wear, no matter that I had been on the pill since for years.

Though not as satisfying as it used to be, the regular sex has kept me sane during these stressful weeks before the holiday break as I make sure to manage at least one orgasm during the proceedings and occasionally take matters in to my own hands on my many lonely evenings.

Most my friends have not voiced any strong opinions about my boyfriend. They rarely see him, so he is mostly irrelevant to them. Most have been with their boyfriends for years, and Çeşme Escort know I am rather private about my romantic relationships, so getting my boyfriend to interact with the other couples… It’s not something I will let happen until we at least exchanged the L word, which we have not.

The one exception to this is my single friend Jessica. I met Jessica in my first year of CEGEP. For those who do not know, CEGEP is like a mandatory two year junior college before going to university for three years.

Jessica was in the same rhetoric class where we both secretly gushed about the attractiveness of our professor. Though in his early forties, he had a passionate and energetic personality that gave him a youthful air. We would joke about how we would go about seducing him, tempting him in to a taboo situation. Of course we never put any of the many plans in to motion, they were only crazy thought from single young girls with a crush and no sexual outlet.

But unlike Jessica, I had been a virgin. A fact she thought was hilarious when contrasted with the crazy scenarios I would come up with during our sex dreaming sessions. I had made out with quite a few guys and even gone down on a couple in high school but though I had found the guys attractive and enjoyed making out with them, none had ever really turned me on enough for me to really want to try anything further. If I could take care of my own needs I saw no reason to risk getting emotionally entangled with a guy because of hormones. I did not crave that intimacy with anyone. That is, until Jessica dragged me to a party and I saw Phil again, a guy I knew from the old neighbourhood.

The fact Jessica knew about me and Phil, about all the crazy things that followed until I decided to do a U-turn this past summer to satisfy my attempt at a “serious relationship” had her griping about Paul at every occasion. I couldn’t blame her. Part of me was getting tired of Paul. Being able to introduce a suitable young man to the family was not enough to keep me tied for much longer. I had recently heard Phil would be returning to Montreal, and that had my mind going wild.

***

Phil. Even just thinking about him now brings back tingles, of the loin variety. He was not a college guy. He worked for his uncle who was a contractor. He dealt weed occasionally too, mostly because he consumed so much of it. He had also slept with more females by the age of eighteen than most guys would ever sleep with. He told me once he had stopped keeping count in the 70s. Unlike with most guys where I suspected their number to be exaggerated, I always felt he downplayed it so as not to scare me off.

When I first met him, the summer I had graduated high school, he had just started dating this Greek girl with gigantic breasts, Petra. They were known to be a fiery couple — in other words, they fought all the time.

We flirted when she wasn’t around, something out of character for me, and we would have long conversations which included sexual topics, which were mostly him talking about his past and, surprisingly, his current relationship.

It was the first time I had frank conversations about sex with a person of the opposite sex. My former boyfriends would simply act and push for sex but not express their intimate thoughts or ask for mine. At least not in a way that would tempt me.

For the first time in my life, having met Phil, I understood how hormones could take over rational thought, but he was taken. The fact he did not seem to mind that detail did not mean I didn’t. I could not bring myself to act on what I wanted, and so when CEGEP started I kept away from him, which was rather easy as we did not usually run in the same circles and if I only hung out with my college friends, chances were non-existent of us ever crossing paths, or so I thought.

Spring, almost two years later, Jessica started dating a new guy. They were throwing a party and Jessica was excited to have me meet him. She had told me about their sex life and how he was insatiable in bed. He worked in construction and apparently was ripped and well endowed. I was really curious to meet this guy who had my friend blushing and smiling at the most random moments during the day.

When I got to the party I met Frank, her boyfriend. I could not agree more with her about his attractiveness. He was all muscle, rugged and honey eyed. Six feet tall and tanned. I understood immediately how someone would lose their mind over this man. He couldn’t seem to take his hand off her which made me smile as I shook his other hand.

I was quickly presented to several people around the room, and given a delicious but strong mixed drink. I knew quite a few people from school and met a few of his friends who were more of a blue collar sort and mostly good looking.

I was having a great time, getting tipsy, dancing and mingling. I was starting to let loose. I was debating whether to give in to my flirting urge with a particularly handsome young man when I heard Çiğli Escort a voice I never thought I’d hear again. “V? Oh, my God! Is that you?” There he was, the star of some of my most inspired wet dreams.

Phil looked surprised to see me, just as surprised as I was to see him. He got over his shock first and gave me a hug and kiss, like old friends. I felt myself blush and my cheek burned where his lips had touched me. I had never felt desire flood me so quickly and so potently in my entire life. I think Jessica noticed since she came rushing to my side out of nowhere and had the biggest shit eating grin I had ever seen her direct at me.

“Interesting, she purred linking her arm with mine and addressing Phil while looking him up and down. Who are you and how do you know Victoria? I rarely see her this tongue tied. You must be special!”

Oh, how I wished I had been around one of my tamer friends who would not have dared put me on the spot like she did. My heart was beating fast, my arm hair standing up and she could not help but add oil to the fire, teasing my nervousness.

“V? She turned me down numerous times, like the smart girl she is.” Phil answered laughing, winking at me. Not one to let anything slide, Jessica couldn’t help but ask: “Really? Seeing how you have her blushing it’s not because of your looks, so what’s wrong with you?”

“Now, that’s enough, Jessie! If she gets any redder she’ll burn through the floor” interrupted a smirking Frank before I could intervene myself. He had a huge smile on his face while he man hugged Phil. They apparently knew each other from work, Frank having once worked for Phil’s uncle.

As the guys were distracted saluting each other, Jessica pulled me off to the bedroom before I could protest.

“Spill!” Was her simple command as she closed the door and pushed me to sit on the bed. She had a stern stare but her lips couldn’t help but curl up at the corners. “And don’t tell me it’s nothing. It obviously is. Who is that guy? And why are you tomato red all of a sudden?”

“Uhhhhhh…” I couldn’t get myself to form words for some reason. When she called me tongue tied she oversold my ability to speak since my brain had short circuited and I actually had lost the ability to think straight, let alone express myself intelligently. “That’s Phil.” I finally mumbled. Though I am sure it came out more like a: “uhthatshhhmmmphill?”

I knew better than to hope Jessica would not be able to decipher my mumbling or that she had forgotten about my admission long ago that the only guy that ever had me wetting my panties like the hormonal teenager that I was, was that guy on the other side of the door. I knew she remembered my confession and put two and two together when the smile she had been hiding melted her “I take no shit” stare was replaced with a twinkle that could only mean trouble.

“Vicky,”

“I hate when you call me Vicky.” I interrupted.

“I know.” She said pulling her tongue at me. “And don’t think I did not notice how you let him call you V. But that’s beside the point.” She quickly amended. “I know you have your morals and what not, but even if that guy is still dating that skank, I really think it might be best if you got him out of your system by getting his dick up your system.”

“Nice, Jess. You make it sound so tempting” I tried rolling my eyes and before I could add any further she stopped me by raising her hand and declared in what I imagined was her “I mean business” move: “I say, fuck it, and fuck him, literally! It will do you good.”

“He just broke up with that girl of his, if that’s any help.” Said Frank, leaning on the door jam, startling the shit out of me and adding on to my already spreading nervousness.

“Fuck! Frank!” I couldn’t help but exclaim, my hand to my chest as if I could force it all the way through to stop my heart from panicking.

“No. Frank is taken and well taken care of.” Quipped Jessica. “But you can fuck Phil.” She said joining Frank at the door and leaving me sitting on the bed with this new piece of information and considering what to do with it.

***

I am getting side tracked. It’s been happening a lot lately. My boyfriend was on the phone with the same excuse and I kept thinking about my past relationships. The one with Phil being my favourite one to wax nostalgic about. It did not last long, barely over four months. It was some of the most fun I’d had in my life but he left the Province for a job in Alberta that summer and it never even crossed my mind to go with him.

I liked him and he had my insides twisted at the drop of a hat but I don’t think either of us was in love. With more time I have a feeling we could havebeen. We knew going in he was leaving soon and I was young and too guarded to let myself be taken down a path I knew nothing about. No matter how many wild and tender moments we shared we knew it came with an expiry date.

By the time he left that summer, I had gone from a virgin to a girl who had done it Foça Escort in more position than I had known existed, every single surface of the apartment I shared with Jess had had my naked skin splayed out on it while he pounded in to me, things had been trickled down body parts and licked off — a fortune was spent cleaning my sheets so often.

My time with Phil opened me up to a world of physical feelings I could not completely give up on. So when I started University I became a serial monogamist. Never more than five months with a guy but jumping in to a new relationship the moment I was free. In two and a half years since Phil had left I had dated eight guys, and slept with a couple dozen more.

To be honest, I never thought that one night stands were my thing but I still needed to sleep with a guy before I could commit to dating them on a more permanent basis. If I could not orgasm after a couple of sessions in the sack, I had to go through the whole “It’s not you, it’s me” spiel and hope the guy was accepting and would not insist on staying friends.

The last thing I wanted was to be stuck with a former bad lover hoping to change things around. It had happened with the first guy I had slept with starting my first year of University. It had taken me months to shake him off, and I owed that more to Jessica than to my capacity to be direct with the guy. That was the only time I ever tried using the “Let’s be friend line” to make the guy feel better.

And so I dated. Trying to but often failing to recreate the sexual intensity I had felt with Phil. At first I thought it was because I was dating university guys, so I went out with a construction worker I had met through Frank. Thankfully, Jessica had already moved on from the cuddly phase with her honey eyed hunk. Making what later developed possible.

***

The construction guy’s name was Sal, short for Salvatore. I had turned him down a few times in the past since I could not envision myself crying out his name in bed, not because he was unattractive, I just did not like the name. Oh, I know how superficial that sounds, but one thing I learned from my first sexual tryst was that I like being vocal in bed. Moaning or screaming a guy’s name turns me on, in part because they really get off on it.

I started “dating” Sal after I ran in to him and Frank at a bar downtown. Jessica had started dating a new guy two weeks prior after about six months exclusively with Frank, or so I thought. I remember at the time thinking they both had taken the breakup pretty well. At the time I had no idea about the more savory details of their relationship. I would get to learn some of them first hand in the following years but at the time I could not get a straight answer as to what had happened between them but they still got along well enough that I felt comfortable walking up to him and his friend that evening.

I was supposed to be meeting a couple of my fellow poetry class students. It was fall and I was excited, it was my first year in university and I wanted to soak up the experience but two of them had flaked out and the only one who showed up was this skinny “I only like to wear black” guy who would never shut up about Borges. I loved the author, unfortunately he knew that and sought to impress me with his knowledge but he just sounded pompous to me.

Therefore, when we walked in to the bar while I was trying to come up with a good excuse to leave early if not immediately and I noticed two familiar faces sitting at the bar, I ignored my companion who was settling at a table near the entrance, quickly excused myself walking straight to them, as if I had not seen these best of friends in years! My enthusiasm must have taken them by surprise but as I hugged them I whispered: “I am stuck with this guy. You need to save me. Please!”

Frank smirked. Ever since I had met him at the party he had thrown with Jessica seven months back, the same evening I through all care to the wind and had fucked Phil in his guest room, while I could hear him and Jessica going at it with just as much intensity through the adjoining wall, Frank looked at me like the cat that ate the canary and had thoroughly enjoyed his meal. I mentioned it to Jessica who just laughed it off, saying that was just his way of looking at attractive women. I asked her if that bothered her and she just smiled and said she loved my loyalty but that I should not worry about her feelings and Frank, that they had an understanding. I had assumed it was of the “look but don’t touch” variety, it wasn’t.

Sal took advantage of the hug and pressed me to his body a little longer and tighter than appropriate between supposed friends and his hands strayed to my lower back where my skin showed due to my too short coat and too low jeans.

“No worries, baby girl. I’ll take care of it. You’ll owe me though.”

Either Sal’s whisper or his cold hands from holding his beer, I am not sure, made goose bumps spread from my lower back up my spine all the way round to my hardening nipples. My physical reaction seemed to have been apparent to Frank who had a knowing look on his face while he pretended to tilt his head halfway to the side unable to hide his smile. Sal kept his focus on me, rubbing his thumb on my lower back, while I looked back and forth between him and Frank.

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

Wallflower

After surveying my wardrobe choice my best friend threw up her hands in resignation and wailed, “I thought I told you to wear something sexy tonight?” I’m not surprised that she disapproves of my outfit. I went for comfortable and casual, a simple blouse and jeans. Nothing says sexy like understated simplicity. Right?

Cassandra obviously had something a bit more daring in mind for me to wear to tonight’s outing. “Is this really the best you can do?” she asked out of sheer desperation.

I shrugged my shoulders unapologetically and earned an exaggerated eye roll in response.

A woman on a mission, Cassandra wasn’t about to be deterred by my feeble attempt at an apology. Sashaying through my one bedroom apartment with the flare of a runway fashion model, her lecture began. “It’s a fetish party, Amy. Fetish. Party. You can’t go dressed like that. You look like somebody’s mom.”

Her tone is one of utter exasperation that grates me to the core. “As a matter of fact, I am somebody’s mom,” I grump in response. I’m trying very hard not to take her tirade too personally. She doesn’t mean to insult me. She is just young and far too eager to take a trip down the rabbit hole. I only wish she wasn’t so determined to drag me down with her. Cassandra is ready to meet Mr. Right and settle down. Somehow, I don’t think Mr. Right is going to be found at any fetish party. Not that I managed to convince her of it.

She lives for the attention her particular brand of drama attracts. Her wardrobe choice will definitely achieve her goal. Tonight she wears a form fitting leather corset and barely there hip hugger lace skirt. She is all boobs, long legs, and curves. On her, the outfit works. I can’t imagine myself wearing something like that. Ever.

I like to be anonymous, just another face in the crowd, a wallflower, and the hodgepodge assortment of clothing in my closet make my goal pretty easy to achieve. Cassandra growls in sheer annoyance at my wardrobe and tosses another pair of faded, worn out scrub pants into the growing pile on the floor. “There’s got to be something in here,” she mutters to herself.

In protest, I grumble, “I really don’t want to go.”

“I heard that,” she snaps. Cassandra pauses her desperate pawing through my clothes long enough to glare me into silent submission before resuming the task. I’m fairly confident that she won’t find what she’s looking for in there. I don’t own anything sexy. Certainly not anything she’d deem fit for a fetish party.

I’d rather spend a rare Saturday night off in my pajamas curled up on the couch with a good book or maybe, if I wanted to live on the wild side, a DVD. But not Cassandra, to her a quiet Saturday night spent at home alone would be a waste. Life is too short is her modus operandi. I suppose she’s right. I do need to get out there and live a little. However, a fetish party wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.

I told her to go for it when she first mentioned the party. I just didn’t think she’d be so hell bent on dragging me along with her. Cassandra is a pack animal at heart. I’m definitely a loner. It’s not that I don’t like people. I just prefer my own company to that of others. I thought the age difference between the two of us would have been enough to force her seek out the company of her pack rather than that of a battle weary lone wolf like me for tonight’s adventure. But, she has made dragging me along to this damned party her top priority and I can tell by the determined gleam in her eye. I’m not getting out of it.

Sometimes, I don’t know why Cassandra and I are friends. Opposites attract? I’m a recluse. She’s a social butterfly. I’m reserved and careful. She’s energetic and reckless. I follow the rules to the letter. She is determined to break every one of them. Sometimes, I think she forgets that I’m over twenty years her senior. I’ve literally got underwear older than she is. She’s a vivacious twenty-three year old single and I’m a jaded forty-six year old survivor of my own life.

My plan is to build a new life for myself. Cassandra has made it priority number one to help me do it. The only thing is, she’s going about it the wrong way. She’s too young and naïve to realize that men aren’t a necessity. They’re a luxury. A luxury I really don’t want to risk at this juncture.

Cassandra squeals in delight over something she found stashed in the back of my closet. “Oh…this is nice,” she says in hesitant reserved appreciation. “A sexy little black dress, hmmm…perfect.” She holds the dress to my shoulders and fingers the plunging neckline. “MILF…yeah, that’s it. We’ll go for a classy, chic, illusive MILF look tonight.”

“MILF?”

Cassandra chuckles and winks at me as she tosses the mass of her long blonde curls over a bare, lean, perfectly tanned shoulder with a flick of her dainty wrist. “Mom I’d like to fuck,” she explains with the patience one would use while speaking to a small child.

“How about I stay home and live vicariously though you,” I counter. Of Alsancak Escort course, she isn’t having it. Before she can begin to strip me out of my clothes. I shove her out of my bedroom and slam the door in her face. “Mom I’d like to fuck,” I grumble to myself. “Great, that’s just what I need some post adolescent male with mommy issues following me around like a damned puppy.”

I pull off my clothes and toss them into the heap piled on my bedroom floor. Standing naked in front of the mirror and cramming my generous body into a spandex shaper reminds me of just exactly how many years separate Cassandra and I. She’s still young enough to be firm in all the right places. As for myself, birthing two babies, the insanity of the years afterwards, and middle age has definitely taken their toll.

Cursing the day I splurged and bought the dress and matching shoes. I wobble precariously in the spiked pumps and tug self-consciously at the short hemline. All of the important things are completely covered, but I still feel naked.

The stretchy black knit of the dress clings to what curves the shaper underneath manages to create and drapes gracefully in folds of soft fabric to hide my more obvious flaws. The plunging neckline accentuated in bits of lace and strips of satin hints at cleavage I truly haven’t got and never ever had to begin with. Studying my reflection, I begrudgingly admit that the overall effect isn’t half bad. I look respectably nice. I don’t quite manage to pull off elegant and refined though. The illusive Mrs. Robinson look Cassandra was going for is utterly lost on me.

Cassandra hasn’t attacked my makeup job yet, but I’m sure it’s coming. I’m nervous enough about wearing the stiletto heels and such a revealing dress in public. I’m eager to avoid another lecture that will only serve to add to my anxiety. I apply a bit more lipstick to my lips and a quick pass of the blusher brush over the tops of my breasts. In truth I’m hiding, not ready to go out into the world. But, Cassandra, much like my daughter, Janie, has the impatient zeal of the young and won’t wait forever.

I don’t worry with trying to do something with my hair. Cassandra won’t dare to mention it. She knows better. My hair is off limits and a battle she will never win. I’ve earned every silver strand invading my natural dark brown color. I love my hair long and full and have paid no heed to Cassandra’s nagging reminders that the eighties are history. I don’t care if a cut and dye job would make me look younger. I don’t want to look like every other middle age mother of two grown children. I want to look like me and that’s non-negotiable.

My lack of enthusiasm for tonight’s adventure shows in my expression and I try to replace the frown with a smile. I truly have nothing invested and absolutely nothing to lose except for a couple of hours of my time. In my mind’s eye I imagine scantily clad bodies and leather collars, whips and chains, and all sorts of nefarious implements intended to invoke pain and pleasure. Games intended for the young and beautiful and definitely not for someone like me.

I rationalize and suppose that wouldn’t be much of a friend if I let Cassandra go to the party without me tagging along to keep her out of trouble. It really doesn’t matter if leather isn’t my thing. After all, I am sort of responsible for her interest in such things anyway. I never should have lent her that damned book in the first place. I thought she’d read it and we’d have a good laugh. I never intended to pique her curiosity.

Shyly, I emerge from the bedroom. Cassandra stops playing with Mooch, the haggard old tomcat that showed up on my doorstep one day and never left. Jokingly she wolf-whistles at my appearance. “Girlfriend, you are definitely going to get laid tonight.”

She quickly snakes out a hand and adjusts the neckline of my dress, flashing more cleavage than I’m comfortable with. “What if I don’t want to get laid tonight?” I hastily rearrange the dress and cover what little assets I’ve got. Cassandra has more than enough bare skin showing for the both of us.

I’m embarrassed and put out by her attempts to take care of me. People do what they’re good at and I’m good at taking care of people. Fortunately, there’s no shortage of people that need taken care of. Unfortunately, the only person I can’t quite seem to manage to take care of is myself. Now that I can put myself first for once in my life, I find that I lack the courage to do it. It’s easier to play the role of caregiver than it is to hand the reins over and let someone else take care of me.

Honestly, since the divorce and moving halfway across the state in the hopes of starting over again, my life has been a little empty. I need something that’s solely for me. I’m just not sure what though. I’m fairly certain that much like Cassandra isn’t going to find her Mr. Right at a fetish party. Whatever it is I need isn’t going to be found there either.

I pack the essentials into a small Ayrancılar Escort black satin clutch. Cassandra frowns at my collage of the barest of necessities and pulls a condom out of her massive purse. She gives me a knowing wink and tucks it into my bag. “Honey, give the energizer bunny the night off. Everyone wants to get laid and if you can get a little spank and tickle while you’re at it, why not?”

With a massive shove she forces me out of the safe haven of my apartment and into her car. I glare at her and she flashes me a brilliant smile. The type of perfect smile only a couple of thousand dollars in orthodontist bills can buy. I should know. My son Jack has that same type of overpriced smile.

She thinks tonight is a night where anything is possible and maybe, it is. Maybe, it isn’t. Either way, I have a feeling that after this little excursion down the rabbit hole, we’re both going to be just a little bit wiser about the world.

Master Dane

It isn’t easy running an empire. Not that I’d describe the club I built from the ground up as an empire, but it certainly isn’t a shabby dive either. BDSM is not a warm and fuzzy past time. The world of ropes, and leather, and whips, of submission and dominance is anything but hearts and flowers and definitely not for the meek or weak kneed. BDSM is a lifestyle of pain and pleasure and one not entered into lightly. What I provide in this little club of mine is a community service. A place to test limits in safety. A sanctuary where people can be whoever and whatever they truly are without judgment or ridicule.

I’ve seen the deep longing for acceptance and understanding etched into too many desperate faces. I’ve seen too many scars marring both body and mind. Remnants of countless scenes that went too far or were carried out by inexperienced and sometimes cruel hands. Finding love isn’t always easy and too often the price is simply more than anyone should pay. I’ve trained the harshest of dominants and broken the most stubborn of submissives. But, I’ve done it the right way, the safe way, and never without limits.

Tonight, we are the public face of BDSM in our community. Tonight, we’ve opened the doors to our kingdom for the curious and bold to explore. Some will shyly watch from the sidelines. A brave few will test the gentle taps of a paddle applied in just the right way. Those fearless and open to possibilities might find themselves a place to belong. But, no matter what happens. We’ll be on our best behavior. We’ll be the poster children for SSC, safe, sane, and consensual. I’ll make sure of it. I’m the master of this little kingdom of kink and whatever happens under this roof does so because I’ve allowed it.

Being so in control is just a side effect of my dominant nature. It’s as easy as breathing to a man like me. I issue commands and my submissives scamper to please me. And please me, they do. No matter if they fail at the task I’ve set them to do or not, in punishing them I find the truest and purest form of pleasure.

The other dominants in the club yield to my whims out of respect. I am the king of this empire they take for granted. Unfortunately, I’m not getting any younger. They know the time is coming for me to crown a successor to the throne. So, they behave themselves. After all, who doesn’t want to be a king?

Tonight, I wear the requisite attire. Snug and stifling the black leather pants and form fitting silk shirt cling to my lean body. I’m generally a faded Levis and t-shirt kind of guy, but the public has certain expectations and I feel obliged to meet them. I do like the menacing sound the heels of my boots make on the weathered wooden floorboards as I walk across the length of the dungeon. Perhaps, next time I set the stage for my own purposes instead of a public exposition, I’ll wear them.

We haven’t opened the doors to the waiting masses gathered outside. It’s cold tonight and I’m content to leave them out there to shiver for a while longer. Perhaps, it’s a bit sadistic of me given the wind chill and plummeting temperatures. But, I do derive my pleasure from pain, after all.

I crack my neck and relax my shoulders before selecting a whip from my personal collection. It’s a bit like having my cock on display, showing off my assortment of whips, floggers, paddles, and canes. It’s a very personal, private, and intimate thing. I’ve brought out the implements I use for training purposes and that have been handled by dozens of unskilled hands in the hopes of mastering the art of dominance. The few that are my favorites for inflicting pain are tucked away out of the public eye where, like my cock, they belong.

Thanks to the success of a recent movie our membership is in no danger of dwindling to a trickle anytime soon. The downside to such misguided publicity is that we’ve had to be more selective than usual about whom we allow into our inner sanctum. A dungeon is no place for fools and posers. It’s my job to weed them out. I am very picky Balçova Escort about the type of person I let into the fold. I have to be. Neither end of a flogger is safer than the other. BDSM is a beautiful thing when done right. But when done wrong, it’s a truly ugly sight to behold. I hide the scars to prove it.

Though there is but one master of this dungeon. Everyone pays dues to keep the wheels turning and therefore, has a vote. Some accuse me of being too selective in the choosing of new members. If they had seen some of the things I had, they’d be picky too.

Regrettably, everything in life costs money and the dungeon is no exception. The club is in the black, for now. But, as close as I am to handing over my whip to the next generation, I want to leave my legacy in good condition. We need new members.

I restored the building the club calls home out of my private stash, but I’m hardly a millionaire. I just happen to be good with my hands and my money. It also helped that one of my star submissives is a real estate broker that managed to snag the dilapidated church for a fraction of its actual worth during the city’s economic downturn.

The irony that we house a BDSM club in a former house of God isn’t lost on anybody. The wide openness of the place suits our purposes well. The stained glass windows shield us from prying eyes. There are plenty of rooms off the main play area for private encounters. Parking is more than ample. The high ceilings and thick oak beams are perfect for suspension play. And what better place is there for a king to oversee his kingdom than from a raised pulpit?

Tonight will pad the nest egg of the next in line to rule quite well. Oh yes, if the public wants to take a tour of the wild side, they’re going to compensate us for our time. The entry fee is completely unnecessary though. I’d train anyone for free if it meant keeping someone else safe. But, considering I’m thinking about hanging up my whip, at least publicly, I have my successor to think about.

I don’t regret the choices in my past that have led me down this path. It’s just been a lonely walk. It isn’t that I haven’t had serious relationships before. I consider every submissive I’ve ever shackled and flogged as serious. But, the allure of the smoke and mirrors of the game has finally worn thin.

My subjects love me for what they think I am, for the pleasure/pain I deliver, and the dreamy state of bliss I send them to afterwards. But, none of them have ever loved the man behind the whip. Not even those who know and love me best have ever seen the real me. They see what I want them to see. The dominant. They’ve never met the man trapped on the other side of a slowly decaying façade of complete control, the man searching for something more, something real, and something, for once, without limits.

I’ll be turning fifty this July. Fucking fifty years old, I still can’t believe it. I’ve been flogging, whipping, and caning bare asses since I was a freshman in college. Oh, I didn’t start out being a dominant. That came later. I earned the right to be a master the hard way, on the receiving end of a sadist’s cruelty.

I rule my kingdom with a just but heavy hand. I take care of my people. Though we’re a club and everyone gets a vote, everyone knows who has absolute control. I make sure my people are safe and cared for. Nobody dares to step out of line. Nobody wants to feel the full extent of my wrath. I’ve never shared with anyone why I’m so rigid in adhering to the rules. They just assume it’s how I am. I’ve never shown my scars to anybody.

I’m warmed up and ready to put on one hell of a good demonstration for the public. I love to teach, but showmanship for the masses isn’t really my style. Tonight, I’ll make a rare exception. I want to show the world what we are and what we are not. I want them to see the reality of this little universe of ours. Educate them about pain and pleasure and the thin veil between the two. I won’t be warm and fuzzy about it. I don’t do warm and fuzzy. Ever. I’ll be honest. I show them the side of this lifestyle that’s not romanticized in books and movies. I’ll teach them what I wish someone had taught me. That nobody has the right to push another person beyond their limits.

“Master?” Ginger stands at the open doors leading to the vestibule eagerly bouncing on her heels. She’s a submissive, a damn good one, perhaps the best in our little clandestine world. But, of course, she would be. I trained her and I don’t do anything half-assed.

I crack my whip. I love the effect the sound of the leather tip striking well-aged wood has on her. She shivers in her tight corset and sucks in a breath, licking her lips as her mind goes exactly where I want it. She would be a good one to hand off my scepter to, if she weren’t so damned eager to please. I simply can’t do it. The dominants would eat her alive. It’d be cruel, like dropping a cute, cuddly kitten into a pen of hungry Dobermans. I’m dominant, maybe even heartless at times, but I’m not a Sadist.

I take a deep breath and wind my whip into a coil around my fist. I cast a warning glare at the people geared up in full pet play regalia. The last thing our little community needs is a scandal. Such as one of our unsuspecting admission paying visitors getting humped by an upstanding member of society.

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

Chapter 1

It was the end of a busy day and I was pulling out of an underground garage and onto Michigan Ave when I saw it happen. Now, I don’t have a lot of sympathy for bicycle messengers since I need to share the road with them but they think they own it, but I had to for her.

She was sitting on her bike waiting to cross the street when the cab clipped her front tire. The collision spun her around and she fell out into the street. Luckily there was not another car following the cab or she would have been killed. The cab kept going and I quickly jotted the name and number of the cab on the back of my business card and then drove the short distance to where she the accident occurred. She was obviously not injured too badly.

“YOU FUCKIN’ ASSHOLE!” she screamed as she flipped her finger at the shrinking back end of the cab.

“Are you OK?” I asked offering my hand to help her up. Her arm was bloody from the road rash she had received and she had apparently bit her lip in the fall since a small amount of blood trickled from her mouth.

“Yeah,” she replied. “Did you see that asshole?”

“Sure did,” I answered handing her the cab info I had written down. “Here’s his information.”

“Thanks. I’m gonna sue the bastard,” she snarled. Then she turned and looked at her bike.

“SHIT!” she screamed. “Look at my bike.”

Actually the bike did not look too bad, but I have ridden bikes long enough to know that the front wheel should not bend at a 90 degree angle.

“I don’t think you’ll be doing much riding on that,” I joked.

“Yeah, well I was finished for the day anyway,” she said picking the bike up. “I just need to drag this home and fix it.”

“Where’s ‘home’? Maybe I can give you a lift,” I said pointing to my Escalade.

“I live out by Garfield Park. Take the train in and out of Chicago”

“No problem,” I replied. “I take the ‘Ike’ back out of the city. I can drop you off. By the way, I’m Bill Walters”

“Zelda Jean,” she said extending her hand, “but my friends call me ‘Zeej’.”

“Well, Zeej, let’s go.” With that we loaded the wounded bike in the back of the SUV and the wounded biker in the front and drove off.

While we were driving making small talk I had a good opportunity to check her out. She was the king of girl that I hoped my daughter would not grow up to be. Black eyeliner and lipstick, short (shorter than mine) black spiked hair, four earrings in each ear plus one in her eyebrow and one through the side of her nose. I could tell from the tight fitting jersey that she wore that at least her left nipple was pierced.

Maybe if I was younger I might have liked her type. If it wasn’t for the hair, eyeliner, lipstick and piercing, she was probably an attractive girl. Not more than 20, athletically built but slim, she could have been attractive to someone like me, 25 years her senior. But she was too “punky” for my tastes.

On her arm was the tattoo of a snake. The head of the snake started at her wrist and it circled around her arm and disappeared under her jersey at her shoulder. God only knew where it ended.

“How’s the snake?” I asked as she examined the scrapes on her arm.

“Good thing he didn’t get damaged. I’d hunt that cabby bastard down and kill him,” she laughed, although I didn’t think she was joking.

We continued chatting as we drove along the highway towards her house and eventually reached her place. I pulled the bike out of the back of my Escalade and looked at Zeej.

“Around back,” she said and led me along a path to the back of the house. “Up there,” she pointed.

Zeej lived on the third floor and the only way up was a narrow outdoor staircase.

“Come on,” she said pushing me towards the stairs. “I do it every day.”

With a little effort, I carried the bike up the stairs and she led me into the small apartment that she called home. I would call it a clubhouse. Posters of punk groups hung from the walls and racks of CD’s and tapes littered the place.

“Sorry, the maid didn’t show up today,” she said kicking a path to the living room.

“No problem,” I replied. “I had a place like this in college. There were three of us living there…” I turned and realized that I had been talking to myself but in a minute Zeej reappeared in the doorway with a couple of beers.

“Here,” she said offering a bottle to me. “This should make up for the stairs. Grab a seat”

“Thanks,” I replied and clinked my bottle into hers and sat on the couch.

“Well, how can I thank you for your help?” she asked swigging her beer.

“No thanks necessary. Glad I was there to help you.”

Zeej got up and walked over to the couch and stood in front of me.

“I said, ‘how can I thank you’?” She looked straight into my eyes as if she knew the answer already. And with that she got on the couch facing me with her knees straddling my legs and planted a hard, deep kiss on my lips. Her tongue probed my mouth and by reflex probed back with mine. Regaining control I broke off and held her back.

“Zeej, Alaçatı Escort what are you doing?” I asked. “I didn’t come up here to hit on you. I’m old enough to be your father.”

“So what,” she answered. “I just want to thank you.” She reached down and grabbed the bottom of her jersey and pulled it up and over her head. I had been half right. Her left nipple had been pierced, but so had her right one also. Her two breasts, probably size 32A, had pert little nipples with gold rings through them.

She leaned forward and pushed her lips into mine and sucked on my tongue. Reaching for my hands, she found them and guided them onto her tits and pressed them hard. I couldn’t resist grabbing at her tits and feeling the nipples and rings under my hands. My mouth moved away from her lips and down her neck, shoulders and finally to one of her nipples. I licked the nipple and ring and she reacted by pushing my face into her tit.

Zeej reached down and found my belt and loosened it. After opening my pants, she broke away and knelt down in front of me. Her hand stoked the length of my hard cock inside my pants for a few seconds before she reached in and pulled it out. Without hesitation she leaned over and slid it in her mouth.

Slowly at first she sucked my cock but then picked up the pace and pistoned it into her mouth. All I could see is the top of her head, with spiked black hair, bobbing up and down on my pole. With her other hand she was massaging my balls.

As quickly as she had started Zeej stopped and stood up. She slid her shorts and panties to the floor, kicked them away and climbed back on my lap. Grabbing my cock in her hand, she positioned herself and dropped her wet pussy on to it. Leaning forward, she wrapper her arms around my neck and started wildly humping my cock.

Zeej was like an animal in heat. She was driving my cock into herself and sweating like mad. Her scent, that worked all day smell, was not unpleasant. Rather, it acted like an aphrodisiac on me and aroused me further. It was only a matter of minutes before she let out a soft cry indicating that she was cumming. She stopped rocking on my and I could feel her pussy pulsing and twitching as her orgasm hit her. She grabbed my face and drove her tongue into my mouth.

When her orgasm had released her from its grasp, she slid off and looked at my cock, which stood up straight and wet. She went back to work on it sucking on it and jacking me with her hand. It did not take long before I could feel my balls tighten and my load shoot into her mouth. She continued to pump with her hand as if she was milking every drop of cum out of me and when she had, she lifted her head.

Zeej parted her lips slightly to show me that she still had my load in her mouth and with a smile, swallowed it while I watched. She then leaned over and kissed me deeply again.

“Thanks,” she said and she got up and put her shorts and jersey on. I pulled my pants up and turned to her.

“You’re welcome. Any time.”

“Look,” she said back to me, “I appreciate what you did for me. Let’s not get all mushy about it. You know where the door is.”

“No problem,” I said sticking my hand out. “Glad I could help.”

She shook my hand and I turned and walked out the door. I figured I would never see her again.

Chapter 2

It had been about one week since I had met Zeej on the street. I had enjoyed our tryst at her place, but it appeared to be a one-time thing and had not heard from her. I did not want to show up at her house since when we parted it seemed like she had “thanked” me enough.

My phone buzzed and I picked it up. My receptionist was on the other end.

“Mr. Walters, there is a package delivery here for you. You need to sign for it personally.” she announced.

“Send the delivery guy in, Mary, and I’ll take care of it,” I replied and went back to my paperwork.

I heard the door open and Mary say, “Mr. Walters will take care of you,” and the door shut. I looked up and there stood Zelda Jean. My cock stirred at the sight of her. She was in full “punk” regalia: a black T-shirt that was cut off just below her breasts, black cargo pants hanging on her hips exposing the top of a black thong, black makeup and several piercings.

“Zeej,” I said, surprised to see her. “What are you doing here?”

“I have a delivery for you,” she replied and walked across the office to my desk.

“Well, it’s nice of you to deliver it personally,” I said to her. “What do you have?”

She walked over to my side and took her messenger bag off her shoulder and laid it on the floor.

“These,” she said and she pulled off her T-shirt and exposed her small, tight tits.

“Zeej, we can’t do this here,” I said getting up, but she pushed me back into my chair.

“Why not?” she asked as she wriggled out of her pants. My cock hardened quickly as I gazed on her standing in front of me wearing nothing but thong that consisted of a couple of small pieces of cloth sewn Alaybey Escort together.

I stood up again. “I work here. I don’t think my boss would appreciate me fucking girls in my office”

“Tough shit,” she replied and pulled me close and pressed her lips against mine. She had that smell that I liked the day we met. I let my lips trace down to her neck and shoulder where I could taste the salty residue of her sweat. Looking down, I reached for the rings hanging from her nipples and tugged them gently.

“You remembered,” she gasped as a twinge of pain ran through her tits. “Harder.”

I tugged again this time holding the rings out away from her body and grotesquely stretching her nipples. I watched her expression as she winced in pain but refused to ask me to stop. When I did stop, she grabbed me around the neck are kissed me long and hard.

“Are you going to fuck me?” she asked.

Without answering I turned her around, bent her over my desk and quickly dropped my pants. Pulling her thong to one side, I slid my cock up to her pussy and thrust it in from behind her.

“Arggg…” she groaned as I buried myself deep into her pussy. She had been in my office for only a few minutes but her pussy was dripping with her juices and I easily slid in and out of her. My thighs slapped against her firm legs harder and harder as the pace quickened. She had reached underneath herself and was massaging her clit and I could feel her pussy tighten.

She cried softly as her orgasm pounded through her but I continued relentlessly. For another five minutes I rammed my cock while she played with herself. When she tightened up again and started to orgasm, my shaft exploded and I emptied my load into her.

I lay on her back for a minute while my cock slowly softened. I wanted to enjoy this since I don’t get laid at work everyday. OK, I never get laid at work. I guess the picture of Zeej and me would tell you why. Here is a 20 year old, at the most, lying face down on my desk. Here I am, a 45-year-old marketing executive, with my pants around my ankles and my cock buried in this punk-bike chick’s pussy. No, this doesn’t happen everyday to me.

I slowly got up and pulled my pants up. Zeej turned over, sat up on the desk and spread her legs.

“Want to clean me up?” she asked. How could I resist? Her pussy glistened with my cum and her juices and I dropped to my knees in front of her and slipped my tongue into her. She smiled as I licked her clean.

“That’s enough,” she said pushing me away getting dressed.

“So how did you find me?” I asked her as she slung her bag over her shoulder.

Zeej held up my business card that I had given her on the day of the accident.

“Oh, I forgot.”

“I didn’t,” she replied. Then she grabbed a piece of paper off my desk and wrote down a number. “Call me,” she said, and she handed it to me and walked out the door.

I knew I would never call her. Would I?

Chapter 3

It had been three days since Zeej had visited me at my office and I sat there unfolding and folding the piece of paper with her phone number on it. I had retrieved it out of the trash twice, not knowing why I had thrown it away, but also not knowing why I pulled it back out.

Zeej was a walk on the wild side for me. She was a young, punk-style chick with a tight body and I was a middle-aged executive in a three-piece suit. Maybe I was a walk on the wild side for her, but I doubted it. Zeej impressed me as the type that had sex for fun and I was part of the fun. If I had not been in that day, she would have fucked my boss, the janitor or even Mary. She didn’t like me, she just used me.

But her scent, her smell and touch came back to me.

I picked up the phone and started to call her number but before the first ring hung it back up. I folded her number, tossed it in the trash and got up to leave stopping only to pull the number out of the trash once again and toss it into my desk drawer.

“You never know,” I thought to myself.

I took the elevator down to the garage below the building and headed to where my car was parked. There, sitting on top of the hood of my Escalade, was Zeej. She looked great. Still punky, but great. She had on a black halter-top, black skirt that hung loosely off of her hips and black makeup. Were those black combat boots? Black… always black.

“You never called,” she said with an attitude.

“Zeej, what do you want?” I asked. “Where do you think this is going to go?”

She slid off the hood, not doing any favor to my paint job, and walked over to me.

“Are you too good for me?” she asked annoyed. “Are you TOO FUCKIN’ GOOD FOR ME?”

Her voice echoed through the garage. I grabbed her arm, unlocked car and threw her in the back seat and climbed in after her.

“What is the matter with you?” I asked her. “What are you trying to do?”

“I just want to see you, that’s all,” she said in a somewhat calmer voice.

“See me?” I asked incredulously. “See Aliağa Escort me? We’ve only seen each other twice and we fucked both times.”

“So?”

“So, don’t you think you would be happier fucking someone your age?”

I had no idea why that came out of my mouth. I sounded like Dr. Ruth or someone like that. “Now deary, don’t you think it would be better to play with kids your own age?” Here was a girl who wanted to have sex with me, was damn good at it and I was pushing her away.

Zeej just stared at me. I knew that couldn’t be a tear in her eye. She was a tough chick and a tear would never fall from her eye.

“Look, Zeej,” I continued, “you’re a nice kid and all but what do you see in me?”

She was looking deep into my eyes and I sensed she was ready to turn and climb out of the car. I was hoping she would. I was hoping she wouldn’t. I didn’t know what I hoped for.

Zeej was less ambiguous. She lifted her leg over my legs, sat on my lap facing me, grabbed the sides of my head and pulled my mouth to hers. Our tongues met twisting and dancing inside her mouth. She was leaning forward now, my head was pushed up against the headrest, kissing me hard and long. All the while, she was driving herself into my lap.

She broke off the kiss, reached down and unbuckled my pants freeing my cock in the process. She squeezed it hard and pre-cum squirted from the top. With her finger she scooped up a drop, lifted it to her mouth and slipped it in her mouth seductively. Her eyes never left mine.

Pulling up her skirt, she lifted herself onto my cock and dropped hard onto it. It slid into her comfortably and an expression of satisfaction spread across her face. Grabbing the headrest behind me, Zeej started lifting and dropping, driving my cock in and out of her pussy.

“Oh… fuck… yeah,” she moaned as she rode me hard. She clenched her muscles on the up stroke and it felt like she was trying to pull my cock off my body. She was bending at her hips angling my cock into her to get the most satisfaction for herself.

Zeej continued controlling her movements with me along for the ride. The interior of the car was heating up and sweat was rolling off her face as she rode me like a bronco. Her scent hit me and I couldn’t take anymore and my cock exploded inside her.

“Shit, not yet,” she said pounding faster on me.

My cock had finished its spasms and was super sensitive but Zeej continued bouncing on it. I grimaced as my pleasure turned to pain and I grabbed her hips to try to get her to stop but she knocked my hands aside. She reached down and started to stroke herself and within seconds her orgasm her like a punch. She gave out a high-pitch wail and collapsed on me, her vaginal muscles twitching around my cock.

Her head rested on my shoulder and I held her tightly hoping she would not move. For one reason, the sensitivity in my cock had not subsided. But more importantly, she felt good and smelled good pressing tightly against my body. There was something between us. I knew it for sure; well I thought it for sure. Zeej, on the other hand, didn’t. She flipped over and sat next to me.

“Got a handkerchief or something?” she asked. I reached down to my pants, which were around my ankles, pulled out a handkerchief and handed it too her. She reached between her legs and dabbed at my cum leaking from between her legs.

“Thanks,” she said tossing it back to me as she opened the door and jumped out. “Later.”

And she walked away leaving me sitting in the car wondering what had hit me, and whether it would hit me again.

Chapter 4

I had not seen her. I had not called her. But in my mind I saw her and talked to her everyday. She had not shown up at my office and whenever I was out on the street I looked for her on her bike. There were plenty of bike messengers, but none like Zeej.

Maybe she was out of business. Her bike was in bad shape after the accident, but doesn’t she have a spare? After all, it is her business. You can’t pay the bills if you aren’t working. Maybe that was it. He didn’t remember seeing her bike in the garage the other day. That had to be it. She had no wheels.

I grabbed the yellow pages and looked up “Bicycles” and found there was only one store in the downtown area. I guess not many executives ride their bikes downtown. After work, I’d headed over there and check out some bikes. The place was wall-to-wall bikes and a rather pleasant, non-messenger type of guy greeted me.

“I was wondering if you could help me with something,” I started off with. “Do you do a lot of work with bike messengers in this area?”

“Yeah, a few,” he replied.

“Would you happen to know a girl by the name of Zelda Jean?” I asked. “They call her Zeej.”

The salesman eyed me suspiciously.

“You a cop?” he asked. I guess a guy in a suit asking about Zeej would make anyone suspicious.

“No, I witnessed an accident she had and I haven’t seen her on the street in a while,” I lied.

“Yeah, she wrecked her bike. She needed a new wheel but I didn’t have one in stock and needed to order one for her. She rides one of these.” He walked over to a bike hanging from a rack. “It’s a Sirrus Elite.”

I walked over to the bike and looked at it, not knowing what made a bike elite or not elite. I turned the price tag over.

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

Chloe walked quickly down the side walk, her high heels clicking on the pavement. She was surrounded by the countless other morning commuters on their way to work. She spotted him up ahead, coming towards her and her pulse quickened. She always looked for him, hoping for a glimpse to start her day. She didn’t know his name, where he worked or anything else about him, except that he was devastatingly handsome and set her passions aflame. She guessed he was 6′ 4″, 220 lbs and in his late twenties. His muscular body filled out his tailored suits so well, she felt a tingling in her belly just imagining what he looked like out of them.

She tried to move closer, so that she would brush up against him as he passed. She flung her thick, wavy auburn hair over her shoulder and pushed her shoulders back, causing her full, 36C breasts to jut out. She was 22 and her body was lush and firm. Her hazel eyes stared into his deep blue eyes, meeting for one electrifying moment, and then he was gone. She let out a sigh, her full lips curving into a small smile.

Her day was long and hard, and only the fact that it was Friday made it bearable. She and her friends were going to a hot new club that night and she was looking forward to unwinding and letting loose.

Later that evening, after she had showered, done her hair and painstakingly applied her makeup, she luxuriated in the ritual of dressing for the evening. She slid the silky sheer black stockings up over her thighs, snapping the garter belt to the tops. She then pulled on a very tiny black thong, fitting it carefully over her freshly shaved pussy. Next came the lacy, sheer black bra. It pushed her full breasts even further together, accentuating her luscious cleavage.

She stepped into a mid-thigh flared skirt, enjoying the feeling of the silky lining against her bare ass. Next came a sheer black button-up blouse. She was a blatant exhibitionist and you could see her nipples through the bra beneath. The thought of a stranger catching a glimpse of her excited her and tonight she felt like showing herself off. She left it unbuttoned to just below her bra, her cleavage on wide display. She slid her slim feet into her four inch high, garnet red stilettos and she was ready to go.

The club was packed but she and her attractive friends never had to stand in line and were inside quickly. She downed a couple of drinks and felt herself relax. She was getting a lot of stares in her provocative outfit and was relishing in the attention.

She was making her way through the crowd when she saw him. Her heart began to pound and her breathing became ragged. He looked even hotter here than he did in the mornings. His black hair was sexily tousled and he was wearing low slung Levis and a funky T-shirt that revealed the muscular body his business suits only hinted at. There were a few people between them when their eyes met and held. His electric blue eyes, heavily fringed with dark lashes, burned into hers. A small smile curved her lips and she meant to act coy and just walk past him when his arm caught her around the waist, pulling her close. Her body was pressed tightly up against his, her crotch pressed against his thigh and her breasts crushed to his chest.

“Hello,” he said simply, the deep tone of his voice sending a thrill through her.

Chloe found it hard to find her voice to respond. “Hello,” she replied, her voice a mere whisper as she gazed up at him.

He silently stared into her eyes before his hand reached up and his thumb gently caressed her garnet red painted lip. He pulled his thumb away and glanced at it. Realizing that she was wearing a non-smudge brand of lipstick, his lips curved into a small smile before they descended to hers.

The immediate intensity of the kiss took her breath away. Her eyes closed and she clutched at his muscular biceps as their tongues danced and twirled. The pounding of her heart increased in tempo and she thought she might pass out. She had fantasized about this moment and it was even better and hotter than she had imagined.

She felt his hand on her thigh, sliding up under her skirt. He broke the kiss and stared at her, his breath coming heavily as his hand encountered the top of her stocking and her bare thigh. He again smiled wickedly and captured her lips with his. His hand continued higher, touching the bottom of her butt.

The crowd pressed around them, oblivious to his hand beneath her skirt. He inched higher, caressing and squeezing her bare ass. Her pussy was surging with wetness, this very public display turning her on immensely.

She Bornova Escort gasped and flung her head back as his fingers encountered her wetness and boldly slid insider her. “My place?” he whispered in her ear. “I don’t live far.”

“Yes,” she breathed.

Without another word he grabbed her hand and began leading her through the crowd. She passed her friends and giggled, “Don’t wait up.”

They were quickly outside and he hailed a cab. He gave his address to the driver and again pressed his lips to hers. His hands impatiently unbuttoned her blouse and pushed the cup of her bra aside, baring her hard nipple.

He caught the dark pink nub in his mouth, sucking on it hungrily. She gasped loudly and pressed his head to her breast. From between her half closed lids she could see the cab driver watching them in his rear view mirror. He was young and rather good looking so she pulled her shirt open, revealing her other barely hidden nipple. She pulled the cup aside and tweaked the already hard nub, all the while her eyes locked on the cab driver’s in the mirror. He glanced occasionally at the busy streets in front of him, but mostly was watching them.

Her businessman switched his attentions to her other nipple, exposing the wet one, shining in the dim light of cab’s interior. His fingers plunged into her pussy, causing her to cry out loudly, flinging her head back. He pushed her skirt up, impatiently pulling off her thong before his fingers slid into her again, finger fucking her hard and fast. The smell of her arousal filled the small space and she again met the hot stare of the driver.

They pulled up in front of his luxurious apartment building. The fare came to $11, but he just threw a $20 at the driver as they scrambled from the cab, her wet thong dangling from the pocket of his jeans. The driver lifted the bill to his nose, smelling the pussy juices his fingers had left behind on the cash as they ran up the steps to his front door.

They stumbled into the elevator and after punching the button for the 23rd floor, he gently pushed her up against the wall, again kissing her, his hands reaching for her wrists. He pulled them above her head and held them with one hand while the other reached down and squeezed her exposed breast.

His knee spread her legs and his thigh rose to press against her pussy, grinding against it, almost lifting her from the floor. She pressed down hard, feeling his muscular leg stroking her exposed clit, pushing her closer to the edge.

There was a soft “bing” and the doors opened just as she reached orgasm, crying out loudly. He grabbed her wrist and led her down the elegant hallway to his apartment. He opened the door and they stepped inside. As he closed the door, he pushed her to her knees in front of him. He opened his pants, pulling out an impressive long, thick cock.

Chloe glanced at it appreciatively and opened her mouth to him. He gently pushed his dick into her mouth, seeing how much of him she could take. His eyes widened as her nose pressed against his belly. Chloe prided herself in giving one hell of a blow job and her business man was not disappointed.

She sucked him hungrily, every fantasy she had ever had of pleasing him flooding her mind. His fingers tangled in her hair as his breathing deepened and a groan escaped his lips. His hands moved to the sides of her head and holding her still, he began to pump his cock in and out of her mouth. Chloe didn’t move and took every inch of him, letting him plunge deeply into her throat with every thrust.

His cock twitched and swelled just before the first shot of cum hit the roof of her mouth. He pushed in deep and poured his cum down her throat, groaning loudly. She sucked him clean and looked up at him with wet lips, her own breathing labored.

He gently pulled her to her feet and without warning, flung her over his shoulder, carrying her into the bedroom. She was laid on the bed and he immediately spread her thighs wide. Pushing her skirt up, he lay between her thighs and nestled his face into her wet pussy. His tongue gently parted her engorged lips, licking the length of her as Chloe gasped and arched on the bed. He gripped her thighs and swirled his tongue around and suckled her clit. Her breathing was coming hard and fast as he stiffened his tongue and plunged it into her, poking it in and out.

She lay on the sheets writhing and whimpering under his expert oral attention. She felt the orgasm building and ground his face into her cunt as it roared through her, obliterating Bostanlı Escort everything but the incredible feelings coming from her pussy.

Gasping, she peered up at him as he sat up and peeled off his shirt, revealing a heavily muscled chest and arms. He stood and dropped his pants exposing strong thighs as well.

She wriggled out of her skirt, pulled off her shirt and bra as she kicked off her shoes. He rose from the bed and picked up her dangerously high, dark red shoes, sliding them back on her feet, flashing her a mischievous smile before he knelt between her legs. He gently wrapped his hands around her ankles, caressing her nylon covered calves as he slowly ran his hands up the length of her legs, dipping his hands to the insides where her thighs were bare.

His thumbs just grazed her wet pussy before continuing up over her hips and flat stomach. She squirmed under his hands as they traveled over her ribs and finally cupped her breasts. The dark pink nipples were standing fully erect and he rolled the hardened nubs between his fingers before lowering his head to suckle them.

She gasped and arched her back, clutching his head to her. She felt his teeth nip and pull at them as he roughly squeezed her soft flesh.

His mouth moved to her throat, nibbling and sucking while his hands remained on her breasts. She clutched at his back, digging in her nails, her pussy aching for him. She wrapped her legs around his waist, pressing her wet snatch against him.

Chuckling at her impatience, his lips caught hers again in a mind blowing kiss. She melted beneath him, her fingers moving up to tangle in his hair.

“Roll over,” he whispered in her ear.

She quickly complied, as he grabbed her hips, pulling her ass high in the air. The mattress dipped behind her as he knelt, pushing her head down. She felt his hands caressing her ass and thighs, a finger trailing between her spread pussy lips. Groaning, she bucked against his hands, her dripping wet pussy a clear indication of her desire for him.

The head of his cock pressed against her entrance and she held her breath as he slowly pushed into her. “Oh yes,” she sighed, releasing her breath with a rush as he filled her.

He began to pump in and out of her, slowly at first, increasing his speed until he was quickly driving in and out of her. Crying out wildly, she pushed back, meeting each of his thrusts.

The first slap surprised her, the second thrilled her and those after only increased her excitement. He could feel the extras surge of wetness against his cock as he spanked her and her ass eventually glowed pink with his handprints.

Grunting with effort, he repeatedly plunged deeply into her, fucking her hard. Chloe’s orgasms roared through her repeatedly, the next one tumbling over the previous. Just as she was about to tip over the edge into delirium , he cried out loudly, pushing in deeply, his cum shooting into her.

They collapsed into a sweat soaked heap, both of them breathing heavily. He rolled off of her and lay on his back, his chest rising and falling quickly as she stared at him through the hair trailing across her face. His hand slipped down his chest, and over his stomach to his cock. She stared in amazement as it stirred to life, hardening again. A third time, she thought with wonder.

He turned his head to look at her, his lips again curling into a dangerous smile. He stood and after briefly rummaging in a bedside table, took her hand, pulling her from the bed. She barely noticed the expensive furnishings as he silently led her through the spacious apartment, out to a large terrace.

Her nipples hardened in the cool night air as she stared out at the city spread before them. She spread her arms and breathed deeply. There were other buildings close by, and if someone was looking, the two of them could easily be seen, naked out on his terrace.

He guided her over to a large wooden table and gently pushing on her back, bent her over it. With his knee, he spread her thighs wide. He’s going to fuck me out here, on his terrace, she thought excitedly, knowing that they would most likely be seen.

His hands caressed and squeezed her ass as she lay quivering beneath him. She gasped as he spread her cheeks and touched her ass hole. Her pussy surged with wetness as she felt the cold lube on her tight hole. She had once dated a guy who was an ass freak, so she was no stranger to anal sex, but she hadn’t had it in over a year and was a bit nervous.

She bit her lip to keep quiet as his finger Buca Escort slid into her. She expected the slight pain, knowing that it would soon ease as a second finger slid into her. She pushed back, relaxing, waiting for her ass to open. A soft moan escaped her lips as a third finger was pushed into her. The fingers began to plunge deeply into her, fucking her ass as she lay gasping on the table.

The fingers slowly withdrew and she could barely contain herself as his cock began to press against her ass. She pushed back and again had to bite her lip to keep from crying out as the head of his thick cock entered her ass. Slowly he pushed in, filling her, a moan of his own slipping through his lips.

Soon, he was buried in her to the hilt. He paused a moment and gripping her hips tightly, he began to fuck her with long, deep strokes. Whimpering, Chloe lay beneath him, the intense pleasure of him deep inside her ass, coursing wildly through her body. He reached down and touched her clit, immediately releasing an incredible orgasm that shook her to the core. She clamped her hand over her mouth to stifle the screams that erupted from her throat as the tidal wave of pleasure crashed over her again and again. His thrusts came faster and deeper as he pushed to find his own release.

He bent over her and whispered in her ear, “There are a couple of guys across the street watching us.”

Lifting her head, she glanced up and saw them, two guys sitting in deck chairs, stroking their cocks, watching her getting ass fucked. An orgasm swept through her as one of the men raised the beer he was drinking to her.

He again rained slaps down onto her ass, driving her to the edge of reason as his large cock relentlessly fucked her stretched hole. She thrashed against the table, venting the incredible pleasure his cock was providing. As yet another orgasm roared through her, he groaned loudly and pushed in deep, his cum flowing into her ass. He stood behind her for a moment, his cock going soft inside her, relishing the afterglow of orgasm before he pulled out and fell into a nearby chair.

Laying limply against the table, she didn’t dare stand, afraid her legs would not be able to hold her as she waited for her breathing to slow and her pulse to return to normal. She could faintly hear clapping and a cheer from the direction of the two guys watching and she again glanced over at them.

She felt his arms around her as he lifted her into the air, carrying her back inside. His lips descended to hers and she wrapped her arms around his neck as he carried her back to bed.

He pulled the blankets over them before drawing her to him, holding her closely as he drifted to sleep. She lay next to him, curled against his body, staring at him as he slept. She was wide awake, the adrenaline of their fucking still coursing through her body.

She slid out from his arms and quickly gathered her clothes, leaving her thong in the pocket of his jeans. She snuck into his bathroom and dressed, fixed her hair and makeup before slipping out the door.

Hailing a cab outside on the street she headed home, her mind swirling with the events of the last two hours. She could scarcely believe what she had just done. She had been thoroughly fucked by a man with whom she had exchanged only a handful of words and whose name she didn’t even know.

She couldn’t deny though, that her whole body tingled pleasantly, her ass and pussy slightly sore from his thorough use of her, her butt cheeks lightly stinging from the spankings. Oh Chloe, you are such a slut, she thought to herself, a smile curving her lips.

Monday morning found her again on the street making her way to work, her eyes scanning the crowds for him. He saw her first and she found his deep blue eyes staring intently at her. She smiled saucily as he stopped in front her, pulling her close.

Without speaking he ran his thumb across her painted lips and finding it free of color, he kissed her deeply, taking her breath away. His hands kneaded her firm ass as their tongues twirled unabashadly among the sea of business suits. Finally he broke away, and stood gazing down at her. “Good morning,” he said softly.

“Good morning,” she replied in an equally soft voice.

He slipped a business card into her cleavage and after giving her ass a final squeeze, he was gone. She read the card as she continued on her way. Daniel Stone was his name and he’s an investment banker the card stated. She dimly recalled his luxurious apartment. A darn good one I would guess, she thought, a small smile hovering on her lips. On the back of the card, in an elegant yet masculine hand was written a phone number and the words, ‘my home number. I would like to see you again.’

Still smiling, she slipped the card into her purse. Her mind again went over the events of Friday night. He would definitely be seeing her again.

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’m late. I’m late. I hate being late I thought as I pulled the appetizer form the back seat and headed for the party. I could hear the music and laughter coming form the backyard as I walked from the car. Ha, no need to look at the address to find the house, my boss’s house, I just had to follow the joyous noise of friendship and camaraderie. .

I was sweating already on this steamy humid night. Being late and rushing will do that do you. A cold beer to cool down and then into some wine and I should be right in the swing of things. The front door was open so I walked in. My boss was the only one in the kitchen when I entered. She turned and smiled, kissed me on the cheek and gave me a big hug, pressing my body against her luscious form by wrapping her hand around my butt. Nice bod, I thought. I’d never been that close to her before. She felt good. “Welcome to the party. I was worried you weren’t going to show.” Obviously she’d been drinking already. I didn’t think she would normally greet me in such a way. So drinking had to be the only explanation. We unwrapped the food I brought and walked outside together to join the rest of the party. Damn, she has a nice ass too, I thought as I followed her outside. I hadn’t thought about her like this before.

She was my superior at the office and we had always carried out a very professional relationship. Sure I had thought she was an attractive woman, but right now I would follow her anywhere, as long as I was about three paces behind her. “Look who finally arrived”, she announced to everyone above the music. “Maybe we should punish him for being late”, she suggested. Everyone laughed. She turned to me and said, “Well not right now. You have a couple of drinks first and maybe I will think of a punishment later”.

Everyone was having a good time talking and drinking and eating. It really was an enjoyable party. My girlfriend was unable to attend the party. She had made arrangements with some of her friends to go drinking. I understood. This was a last minute party. She didn’t really enjoy office gatherings. And because of that she probably wouldn’t have enjoyed it and may have even ruined my time, had she come along.

An hour or so after I was there my boss came by and asked me if I could stay behind and have that half hour meeting we hadn’t been able to get in all week. “Sure”, I said and thought nothing of the request. In hindsight it’s interesting that she chose to ask me when nearly everyone else in our small office was within earshot of her suggestion. They would all not be suspicious of me staying behind… even I wasn’t. The meeting was to discuss performance appraisals and raises for each person in the office. So staying behind made sense, because others couldn’t be part of the meeting, things would be no less busy for us over the next 7 days, and the appraisals had to be completed by the end of next week.

The party progressed. Several times Carol, my boss, and I would end up in the kitchen alone together. Be it cleaning up empty glasses or dishes or retrieving drinks for ourselves and others. Whenever this happened she found some seemingly innocent reason to brush up against me or put her hand somewhere on my body. On one occasion she Carol was preparing a tray of sweets for everyone. I leaned against a counter as she bent over her island arranging the dessert. I sipped a drink and looked at her as we chatted about nothing. Her blouse hung open exposing her breasts and her minimal bra. Nice I thought and lost track of what she was saying. Her tits were a nice size, not too big, not too small, probably a B, maybe a C cup. As I imagined caressing them and sucking them, feeling her nipples become erect my mouth, I had my own erection growing beneath the shorts I was wearing. Carol walked around the island and squeezed between myself and her work area. She could have gone the other way but chose to wiggle through this small space pushing more against me than the island I was sure, and not that I minded.

“Watch where you’re pointing that thing”, she said grinning and looking at my cock pressing Basmane Escort against my shorts, “Someone might take that the wrong way”.

“Whichever way they’ve taken it in the past, I’ve not had any complaints”.

“I’m sure you haven’t”, she replied as she gave my cock a firm squeeze through my clothes. “But then there really isn’t any wrong way to take one of those things, is there”? The flirting ended with that rhetorical question as Carol picked up the tray and I got to follow her outside. My raging hard-on pointing to her sashaying ass all the way back out to the party. I wondered with a wry grin if this had been my punishment. I decided not to worry if anyone at the party noticed the bulge in my pants.

As it got later in the evening, the party moved inside so we wouldn’t disturb the neighbors. We all started dancing, continuing the fun. My boss perked up at one point and said “Hey, you missed the house tour because you were late. C’mon, let me show you upstairs”.

I followed her and as she showed me each room she would stand in the doorway so I would have to squeeze by her to look around the room. Again we were alone, but she didn’t really make any advances towards me. And I didn’t mind that much. She was attractive and as I said she had a nice body which was reaffirmed for me each time I squeezed past her. I found myself leaning more towards her than the door frame the longer the tour lasted. My cock was hard again and I wondered if her pussy might be the least bit damp. Each time I would squeeze by her I would place my hand on her hip, and each room I would move it more and more around to her ass. And what a great ass. My cock brushed against her belly as I slid past her to enter the last room on our tour. I felt my own nipples harden against my shirt as leaned into her. Our lips found common space and our tongues danced together. I slid my hand into Carol’s top. I felt the moan deep in her throat transfer from her tongue to mine. “We should get back to the party,” Carol said. As I backed away from her she peered at the front of my shorts. “Hey, you’re spreading those ideas again.” Her hand deftly slid up the front of my shorts, “Allow me to put this somewhere where it’s condition isn’t so obvious” and she gently repositioned my cock in my underwear. Carol removed her hand, stood back and assessed her handy work. She grinned a wicked little grin and said “There really is no hiding that thing when it’s ready for action, is there”? With another question hanging in the air she led me downstairs.

I really couldn’t tell you anything about the rooms upstairs. All I could think about was fucking Carol. But at the same I wondering what in the hell I was doing feeling-up my boss and having her grab my cock. She was always very straight-forward and outgoing. I wasn’t sure any of these events were more than just flirting for her. But her nipples were hard and she did moan…

Back downstairs everyone had paired up on the dance floor, so her and I danced together. A slow song came on. She just stepped towards me and continued dancing. It seemed normal. It’s what everyone else did as well. The music was loud and I thought I heard her moaning as she laid her head on my chest and her hand rested on my butt, but I couldn’t be certain, maybe she was just humming….in a different key. My big concern was trying to keep my penis from creating a bulge in my shorts or worse, maybe even a precum stain. We definitely danced close. Our bodies firmly pressed against together. The dances changed from slow to fast to slow randomly but the partners didn’t. With each slow dance our closeness became more comfortable, more intimate.

About 2am people started leaving. I asked if she still wanted me to stay. She said, “Of course we need to get that work done”. From flirting to a business professional in the blink of eye. She truly amazed me sometimes.

We poured another drink each. It took all of 20 minutes to get through everyone’s review because we had no disagreements about contributions or abilities of any of the Bayındır Escort staff.

“One for the road”? she asked scooping up my glass and exposing those lovely breasts to me in the process.

“Sure. And we can toast to finally getting that work done”.

“Let’s sit out here where it’s more comfortable”. I followed Carol to the living room. Those were two tall drinks she had poured. She placed my drink on the coffee table at one end of the sofa and I sat down nestled into the corner. Carol settled into the other corner of the sofa, drink in hand.

“How do you think the party went”? she asked. “I would say it was a success. Everyone really seemed to enjoy themselves. But I must say, this is a nice way to end the evening. Sitting quietly. Talking. Finishing a drink together.” “This is nice”, she said, raising her glass in a toast, taking a sip and placing her glass on the table all in one smooth motion. She continued her motion toward me. She slid into the space between myself and the sofa back. An arm slid under my back as she placed her head on my chest. “This is nice”, she murmured. Her other hand she placed with great confidence on my crotch. Carol placed it there like that was where her hand belonged. “This is nice” she said again as she gently rubbed my cock to attention through my shorts. She tilted her head towards me and kissed my cheek. I met her next kiss with my lips. My hand sliding inside her blouse. My shorts were already undone, I didn’t realize it until I felt her hand slide inside my underwear and squeeze my cock. “I want to suck you” she whispered as she slid done my body. I had no say in the matter as she extracted my penis from my pants and slid it into her warm wet mouth. “This is nice” she moaned as she would remove my cock from her mouth. She pressed my penis into my pubes and against my stomach with one hand as she ran her tongue up and down the length of my shaft. She then wrapped her lips around the sides of my cock and continued roaming up and down the length of my steely cock. Her tongue danced from side to side as she sucked and kissed my pole. I wanted her pussy within reach of my tongue. I wanted to smell her aroma and taste her honey. She wiggled out of her pants without missing a stroke. “I want you inside me”, she said. Her movements were like a dancer’s. There was a choreography to the flow of events taking place. Her pussy looked wonderful as she sat over me and guided my probe into her hot honey pot. She took all of me and bathed my balls in her fluid as her cunt engulfed the last half inch of my cock. I cupped her buttocks in my hands and felt the muscles working as she stroked my cock with her tight dripping vagina. Her ass felt better than I had imagined it would when I had admired it earlier in the evening. I unbuttoned her blouse and removed her bra as she slowly rode my shaft. As I caressed her tits with the palms of my hands she stopped moving and just sat with my penis buried deep inside her. She closed her eyes. I could feel her vagina contracting, pulsing around my cock as she sat seemingly motionless. Carol rose again and then slid back down my shaft. Her pussy was so incredibly warm and she rocked so slowly on my cock seemingly enjoying every nuance of its contours. As she moved up again I slipped my arms under her ass and lifted her off my throbbing cock. “I want to taste you”, I told her as I lifted her up and placed her cunt over my face. The aroma was intoxicating. Her labia gleamed as the dim light reflected through the lube coating them. I sucked her juices from her pubic hair.. The dank sweetness awakening my taste buds. My tongue slipped into her labia. My face getting coated in her juice. She twitched as my tongue explored her folds and found her clitoris. My thumbs slid in and out of her pussy alternating turns being welcomed into her warmth. I moved my hands back to the curves of that wonderful ass and allowed my tongue to explore her from the top of her love slit, down and around to her anus. She was coated in her nectar, and so was I. I slipped my tongue Bayraklı Escort past her sphincter and into her anus. She moaned softly yet loudly and sat back pushing more of my tongue inside her. Both her holes were wet and slippery now. I moved back to her clit. I circled it with my tongue then started to suck on the swollen bulb. As I sucked on her clit her hands moved down under my head and she gently rocked back and forth on my face. I could sense the rising pressure inside her. I placed one thumb in her cunt and the other against her anus. My tongued danced over her clit as I filled her ass with my other thumb. She pressed my face into her pussy as she bucked in response to her first orgasmic wave. She bucked and moaned and her cunt and ass milked my thumbs with their contractions. As she recovered she rolled off me and said “stand up, I never did finish sucking you”.

I stood. My cock imitating a compass needle, her mouth being the north pole. She looked at it, breathed on it and slowly ran her fingertips along it. “Spread you legs a bit more” she whispered as she dipped her hand between her own legs and collected some of her lube. She raised her hand and spread her honey on my ass hole as she took the head of my cock past her lips. WOW she was good. She made love to my cock and balls all the while rolling her fingers over the gateway to my anus. She started taking my rod into her mouth deeper and deeper. She was about halfway when she slipped a finger into my ass. A first for me and what unimaginable pleasure it delivered. She sucked and licked at my cock and slid her finger deeper into my canal. Finally she hit my prostate, my g-spot. My balls tightened as I held back the impending flood of my cum. She took my cock deeper and applied a little more pressure in my ass. My knees buckled as my balls exploded. The first load filled her mouth. The next wave buckled my knees again. My cock slid from her mouth and the second blast hit her face. She grabbed my cock in her hand and pumped the remaining load onto her face and lips. I bent to kiss her. Her finger slipped out of my ass. My cum tasted good on her lips. I began licking the rest from her face. Sharing it with her in deep passionate kisses.

Some cum had spilled onto her chest. I chased it and found her nipples. Carol reclined as I sucked on her responsive nipples. Her moans told me she was ready for more. I continued down to her pussy. I lifted her legs and drank from her cunt She reached orgasm so quickly this time we were both surprised. I stayed with her pussy though and licked at her ass while she recouped. Slowly I explored her cunt once more, being aware of her sensitivity from her most recent orgasm. I returned to her anus. I slid my tongue inside and moistened her hole. I sat back, Carol with her arms wrapped around her knees, holding her legs up, giving me full access to her quivering sphincter. I slipped a finger into her ass. Slowly moving it in and out. I pulled it out and licked it and its brother. I placed two fingers against her ass. “Yes” she moaned and I forced them inside her. In and out slowly relaxing her opening. My cock was regaining its steely state. With the other hand I caressed my balls and pumped the shaft. I remover my fingers and got to my knees. Carol trembled in anticipation. I placed my cock against her ass then slipped it up and into her cunt. I wanted it to be well lubed for its journey. Her cunt was hot and welcoming. I held Carol’s legs as she pushed back against me. A few pumps and I slipped my cock out. Poised at her anus again she closed her eyes as I gently pushed into her. The head slipped past her sphincter. She was so tight. I slowly pumped sliding deeper with each thrust. Carol bean massaging her clit as my plowed new territory. The tempo increased. She moaned. I moaned. She screamed “I’m cumming again” as her fingers worked on her pussy “Me too”, I echoed and I buried my penis entirely in her ass. My balls tightened and released in an instant. She moaned and bucked. I fell against her. Both of us panting and holding each other. As we recouped she whispered into my ear. “Now your punishment. I want you collect in your mouth some of my pussy juice and some of your cum as it leaks from my ass. Then carry it up to me and share it with me in a deep kiss.”

We alternately fucked and sucked till the sun rose that morning.

Some punishment….. delicious it was.

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 story starts 10 years ago when I was still in high school. I came back from Christmas break and there was this beautiful girl in my class. She looked like an angel. Her brown hair and blue eyes and that smile drew me to her like a bug to a light. We began talking and became great friends over the next year and a half, till our graduation. I wasn’t the coolest person in school, but I did play football and had several friends. However, when I got up the nerve to ask her to our senior prom her answer didn’t really surprise me.

She simply said, “NO!” I had heard that before. Well we remained friends, and I went off to college in South Carolina. While in school we kept in touch with regular phone calls during my freshman year. Then they stopped. Oh well I figured it was just like any other high school friend they are great to have for that time but then it is over. She did manage to call me a couple times when I was home for a holiday or two. But time passed and I stopped hearing from her. I picked up through the grape vine that she was married so I tried to stop thinking about her, but it was hard. I met several women while in college and came close to getting hitched a few times but something just wasn’t right.

So time went by and I graduated college and after a very nasty breakup which involved a house I had bought, but that is another story for another time. So I called my parents and they opened their arms like always and let me come home till I got back on my feet. I was working as a manager at a local auto parts store. Not the life I had dreamed of. Anyway I ran into her at the store one day. I wasn’t even going to speak because I wasn’t sure if she remembered me. Well she must have because she spoke first, “Hey there stranger, how are you?”

“Hey, I’m good, you look great!” as I think to myself, “Who is this adorable little girl with you?”

Apparently she read my because she said, “Honey meet mommy’s friend from high school, you know the one I told you about?”

With the cutest grin I have ever seen she looked at me and said, “Hi Eugene!”

She knew my name, needless to say this little 2 yr. old impressed me. So we chatted there in the store for a couple minutes and I found out that she was still married, not happily but married. So I Bayındır Escort told her to call me and maybe we could get together sometime or at least catch up over the phone. We talked almost every night while her husband was out running around screwing anything that walked and doing every drug in our town. Well he found out that we had been talking and got pissed so I stopped calling her because I didn’t want to be the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back. During this time, I had gotten pissed at my boss and decided to join the Navy. I have a degree in marine science so I figured I could go in and become an officer. Instead I decided to choose a job in the intelligence field. Shortly after joining the Navy I received a letter from her and I wrote back. My letter never reached her, thanks to her step-dad. So another year and a half goes by without me knowing she hadn’t received the letter. Then one day I get a call and it’s her. We begin to talk and after a few minutes I found out that she was going through the big D. I thought here’s my chance, then I thought better and decided that I didn’t want to be the rebound relationship so I didn’t mention my feelings for her again. But then she asked me a question I will never forget, “Are you interested in dating anyone?”

Boy was I, I had waited 10 long years to hear her say something along those lines. So I answered, “I guess I wouldn’t mind giving it a try. What do you say we get together when I come home on leave in a month?”

“Sounds good!”

We began talking every night for about 3 hours. She told me all about how she had constantly thought of me while she was with him, and why she turned me down for my request to prom. Her mom wouldn’t let her so I understood. I did feel better when she told me how much she liked me when we were in school and how she wanted to grab me and hug me in the store and tell me she loved me when we saw each other two years prior in the store. Needless to say we didn’t wait till I came home to start our relationship. I wanted to tell her that I loved her for the first time face to face but she wanted me to tell her then. She won I couldn’t help it, it just came out one day on the phone.

I know you all want an erotic story, and trust Bayraklı Escort me I am getting there just one hell of a lead up just so you know what all I went through waiting on her. So anyway the time was getting close for me to fly home and she wasn’t going to be able to come see me because she had to work. Then my mom and her started planning and got her off work on that day. So here I am walking up the terminal and they are waiting on me at the security check point. She was hiding but her daughter, now four, couldn’t wait to see me and was peeking around the corner. So I knew something was up. I got there and hugged my family and her daughter and then turned around and saw the face of an angel once again.

It was difficult for me to not take her right there in the airport because she looked so good. She was more beautiful than I remembered. Her eyes seemed bluer and her hair lighter and sexier, and then there was her body. Wow did she look good. Her breast caught my eyes and I tried not to look because I didn’t want my family to catch me looking but I couldn’t help it. She was pure beauty. We were on the road all of about 15 minutes before I reached over and grabbed her breast and kissed in the back of my parents’ van. She just looked at me and told me I was bad. I smiled because I know I am.

We stopped for dinner and got caught up on the last few months of things that had happened. When we arrived home I told my parents I was taking her home and we left. We got to her house and got her daughter to sleep and went to her bedroom. We were laying there kissing and getting to know each other’s bodies. I began kissing my way down to her breast but she grabbed my head looked in to my eyes and with two words told me what she wanted, “Fuck me!”

How could I resist an order like that so I crawled back up and plunged I with a smile like I never had on my face. I was in pure heaven. It was the wettest, silkiest, warmest pussy I had ever been in. I made a mental note to make sure I tasted that thing before the night was up. Now I hadn’t had sex in about two years so I didn’t go for the long haul but those 5 minutes were the hottest sex I have ever had. I looked into her eyes and told her I loved her as I exploded deep into her. Bornova Escort I fell, exhausted, next to her and began kissing her again. It took about 5 minutes before I was hard and ready for more but I wanted to taste that pussy so I began to kiss her neck and ears and then worked my way down to her beautiful breasts. First one then the other and I spent a long time playing with them. Then I began to go back up to her neck and told her to turn over. I kissed my way down her back to her as and kissed it all over dipping into her crack and even reaching my tongue down to her pussy and teased it.

Then on down her legs and back up to her neck and then I turned her over again and went back to her breast then I began the trip down. I got closer I could smell the smell of a well fucked pussy waiting to be eaten. I blew on her clit and then kissed on down each leg and then back up the insides or her thighs getting closer and closer. Then I reached her pussy and began kissing it lightly as if I were kissing her. Staying away from her clit as long as possible. Slowly my tongue snaked its way into her lips and deeper till I was tasting the sweetest pussy I have ever eaten. Her juices were flowing like a river and drank up as much as I could. I started eating her like a Texan eats bar-b-que. She was moaning and starting to squirm so I knew she was close and then I attacked her clit with no mercy. She got louder and wetter, if that was possible and then without warning gave me another order, “Get up here, NOW!”

Once again I didn’t wait long to fulfill her request. I was in her I a split second but instead of charging fast I began kissing her, making love with long slow strokes. We had sex for about 30 minutes and kissed almost the whole time. I once again looked into her eyes and told her I loved her as I filled her pussy with another load. As I got off her she wasted no time taking my shrinking dick into her mouth to start the recovery process and before I knew it we were fucking again. I got tired and pulled her up onto my lap and we set there with my dick in her pussy just talking and kissing and enjoying each other. During the next 3 weeks we had sex every night. It was kind of hard to get on that plane on the 12th of May, but I did it knowing that I was going to see her again as soon as Uncle Sam lets me. I plan on asking her to marry me sometime this November, and I look forward to wonderful sex every night of my life. I waited 10 years and now I have the best thing. Glad I waited. Oh yea if this story gets good review I may tell you about our truck ride to the airport.

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