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The secret to domestic bliss is keeping your husband’s cock hard for you. I’m not just a good wife; I’m a fantastic one. My alarm went off more than an hour before Mike was due to get up. That gave me time to find my black panties from the previous night, the ones he’d pulled off of me with his teeth, and put them on while I prepared my husband’s breakfast and tended to his pre-work needs. Other than the cum-soiled panties, I only wore a short, thin, satin robe. Then, just before his alarm was due to erupt in cacophonous, eardrum-shattering squalls, I went into the bedroom, turned off the alarm, and quietly crept between his sleeping legs.I pulled back the covers ever so gently, exposing his flaccid cock. Smirking, I took it into my mouth, gently sucking it to hardness. As it grew longer and thicker in response to my efforts, I increased the suction and pumped my slutty mouth up and down his now-hard member. Soon, it was thick, hard, and firm in my mouth, and I could hear him moaning in his sleep.His hips began thrusting up to meet my oral lunges, and his moans grew in intensity and volume. His hands, one of them running all over my back and groping at my tits, the other holding my head in place, alerted me that he had woken up. He groped at my panties with his free hand while he fucked my mouth.“Mary Anne, your mouth feels so good. I want to wake up like this every morning.”I pulled my mouth off his quivering shaft, making a popping noise as my lips broke the suction. Long tendrils of saliva dripped from my mouth, bridging the gap between my lips and the swollen head of his cock.“Tell me what a great cocksucker I am, tiger.”“You’re the best, Mary Anne. Oh, fuck.”“Cocksucker,” I repeated. “Tell your wife that she’s a great cocksucker.”I could feel his flesh pulsing under my tongue.“You… ah, so close… you are a great cocksucker, Mary Anne.”Redoubling my efforts, I plunged my mouth over his cock, sinking all the way down until my lips grazed his pubes. Gurgling and gagging, I forced myself to take his full length down my throat. I was rewarded by his cock pulsing, growing more turgid, and he moaned loudly.Right before he was about to erupt in my mouth, I sadistically decreased my pace and suction, slowly moving my mouth up and off his throbbing cock.“That should hold you over until tonight,” I cooed. I leaned back, sitting upright and spreading my legs, caressing my soaked pussy through the panties. My handsome husband just stared at my masturbatory gestures, his hard-on waving back and forth.“You’re not going to finish me off?”“Nope. I want you to be so horny for me that you can’t restrain yourself. I promise you that I’ll be worth the wait. Now, go shower and come eat your breakfast.”My darling breadwinner grumbled and whined like a little boy, but went to the shower. I prepared a hearty Malatya Escort breakfast for the both of us and sat down to eat my food. Then inspiration overtook me, and I tore off my soiled, saturated panties and put them in his briefcase. When he got to his office and opened it, he’d be delighted that his wife was such a horny vixen.“Oh,” I said as we ate. “I need to buy a dress for tonight. What’s our budget?”“You have a hundred dresses,” he observed. “Why not wear one of those?”I’d anticipated the response and had my reply ready. “Well, you super-hung stud, since I dyed my hair blond, I can hardly wear anything I own. Nothing goes well with my skin tone and hair color anymore.”Just to keep him focused, my bare foot slid up his leg and rested on his cock. I ran up and down its length as I spoke.I continued. “I could just dye it back to the same, old, mousy brown if you don’t want your wife looking her best to represent you, tonight.”About a week ago, an actress I somewhat resembled was in a movie we were watching, and her hair had been dyed a pale, brilliant blond for her role. Mike was so turned on by her looks that he was a primal savage in bed that night. So I went to the salon to test the theory that blonds have more fun. Since then, he’s been in a constant state of heat for me.“Take my credit card, then.” he surrendered. “Buy whatever you want.”I opened my robe, stood up, and then grabbed the charge card off the table and ran the plastic over my tits, flicking the edge against my nipples. Then, I slowly drew the VISA down over my taut stomach and slid it against my pussy lips. If he noticed that my panties were missing, he didn’t mention it.“Do you think I’d look sexier if I shaved that little landing strip off?” For effect, I ran the long edge of the plastic over my newly-trimmed pubes, hearing the stubble-scuffing sound it made.“Um err, keep it, please. I like it.”“Are you sure?” I placed the charge card back on the table, smiling at the sea-dwelling cartoon character on the front, and spread my cunt wide open with my fingers. “I bet if I shaved it bare, it would feel extra sexy when your tongue was right here.” My index finger pointed to my clit.To illustrate, I flicked my sensitive nub with my crimson-painted, long fingernail, feeling my clit swell and grow burning hot under my self-administered attention.Mike was almost late for work because I just couldn’t let him leave without passionately kissing him in the doorway, my hands roaming over his buttocks. Then, during our embrace, I just had to caress and fondle his manhood until his cock was fully erect, once more.“Be a good boy at work, and tonight I’ll let you lick my pussy and cum on me wherever you want.”“Anywhere?”“You dirty pervert. You want to shoot your cum all over my face as I moan in ecstasy, Malatya Escort Bayan don’t you? Does it turn you on thinking about blasting your load all over my pretty face?”I watched from the front door, my robe still open, as he trudged out into the morning heat and left for work. Although it wasn’t even 9:00 a.m. yet, the air was already hazy with heat. It was going to be a scorcher. However, it was Friday morning; I had my husband’s silly credit card and needed to shop. I’d endure the torturous temperatures; I just needed to dress for the weather. That meant light, breezy, thin clothing.A hot, steaming shower, with the massage head blasting my clit into oblivion, was the perfect preparation for my busy day. With my back pressed against the cold, wet travertine, the forceful streams of pulsating water pummeled my orgasm button into two leg-shaking orgasms before I decided that it was time to get dressed and head into the city. I needed to select the perfect wine for the evening, pick up some new table-setting accessories, and find a dress that complimented my new hair and smooth, creamy skin tone.I could have taken the expressway into town, but, despite the oppressive heat, the sun was shining, and so long as I drove fast with the windows open, a stimulating, cool-seeming breeze cascaded over my scantily-clad body. With the sky brilliant blue and wispy clouds meandering across it, I decided to take the scenic route. That added quite some time to my travels, but I needed to think about what sort of dress I wanted.When I was a brunette, with my medium, smooth complexion, I could get away with just about any color or style of garment. With my long hair dyed such a brassy, vivid blond, the fabric, cut, and especially the color became of paramount import. My mind ran through possible clothing choices as I drove, listening to my music and taking in the rural scenery.I could easily go with a satiny, solid-colored dress. That would give me a femme fatale look. My hand idly dropped to my thigh as I drove, pondering the length of the slit that would look good on my shapely, toned legs. With the bold femme fatale slant to my attire, my hair would be a bold statement, understated by wearing a low-cut, high-slit dress. I’d be sexy and sultry, with the obvious fake color becoming a sexual statement.Or, I could opt to go with dark, somber colors with a sort of punk-goth flavor. Then, my golden tresses would be a stark statement, showing that I knew my hair looked too light for my skin tone, but I didn’t give a single fuck. That would be super hot and sexy. With that harsh, starkly-contrasted look, I could get away with not wearing a bra.My hand, already on my sun-heated thigh, traveled up, beneath my short skirt, and idly caressed my moist cunt lips. Before I knew Escort Malatya it, I was absentmindedly fingering myself as I drove. Although I was going clothes shopping, I was currently without underwear. My skirt was short enough to be alluring, but not so short that I’d flash my nude pussy all over town.The light, wispy cotton skirt provided easy access to my overheated treasure box, and I took advantage of that, spreading my legs slightly and plunging two fingers inside my cunt as I used my thumb to tickle my clit. My foot reflexively pushed down on the accelerator, and, soon, I was driving over the country highway at a roaring eighty miles per hour.The backcountry roads are seldom traveled, so I had no concerns about being seen. Still musing over what sort of dress to buy, I moaned, cursed, and screamed as loudly as the music on the stereo as I fingered my aching twat. With the two fingers inserted, I could clench my hand a bit, which drew my thumb over my throbbing clit and caused my fingers to press into the upper reaches of my love canal. The sensation was so horny and lusty that I had to pull over to keep myself from swerving off the road. While I was deep in the throes of passion, fingering myself in my car on the side of the road, my phone chirped with an incoming message.“Found your panties. I’m so hard for you, Mary Anne.”“Smell them. I made sure they were extra wet for you.”Mike paused, not replying immediately. Then, he texted back, “I’d rather smell the ones you’re wearing.”“The washer’s not draining, remember? Can’t do laundry. No panties.” I grabbed the phone from its cradle and took a picture of my wet cunt. My sexual juices were glistening on my thighs, and the seat between my legs was saturated.I sent him the picture of my bare pussy along with the message, “Keep it hard for me. I’ll be in public like this all day. Love you.”His first response was a gratifying, “fuck,” followed by a long pause, and then, “Love you, too.”My masturbation forestalled, I resumed my drive into town. I considered going with a light-colored Betty dress. The classic, retro styling with the flaring skirt and 1950s appeal would work. But, again, with my hair so brassy, I’d need to be extremely careful about the fit, pattern, and color.You see, there’s quite a bit more to being a traditional wife than one would think. Part of the dynamic is supporting your spouse. As a housewife, it is my duty to ensure that my behavior bolsters everyone’s opinion of my husband. That meant that I needed to be a good, sincere friend to all the women, wives, and lady neighbors we might associate with, as well as earn the staunch approval of all the males. Men are easy, though.To build up my husband’s image in the eyes of his manly peers, I simply needed to make them all want to fuck me. Being a trad wife is partially like being a trophy wife. I needed to dress to entice, but not so slutty that it seemed intentional; if all the men wanted to fuck me, then Mike was a man’s man, worthy of their respect and admiration. I also enjoyed the lusty eyes roaming over my body, and the thinly-veiled innuendo.

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

She just caught me masturbating! My inner voice screamed inside my head.Allison’s face betrayed no shock, surprise, judgment, or even the barest hint that she’d seen me. However, she’d walked from her house down the street to mine, and there was almost no chance that she hadn’t glanced toward the house and seen me standing in the bay window, fingering myself over Bobby Crenshaw. I knew better than to ask.However, her strategic, deliberate entrance was admirable and required acknowledgment. Allison and I barely knew each other. We’d run into each other at a few stores and chatted briefly a few times. I’d only met her husband once, I think, in passing, when we’d first moved in. No face emerged in my mind to connect his name with the actual person. She and I felt that we could become good friends, hence the reason for a quiet, get-to-know-you dinner.Everything about her arrival, down to the smallest of details, was designed to cut through the usual, hidden subtext that women utilize to gauge, judge, and communicate with each other. She presented her true self for me to either accept or reject. I mentally bowed before her foresight. Allison’s outfit, body language, casual airs, and even the offering of marijuana candy in lieu of the traditional wine were manufactured, “here I am; this is me,” statements. That took courage, vulnerability, and a keen understanding of the silent messages we convey to each other.Ginger, as she prefers to be called, had meticulously done her makeup to impart her personality. It was sultry, sexy, and playful—all smoke and glittery shine. Her rouge was dark, and those arousing, plump lips were a deep crimson outlined in dark purple. Her eye shadow faded from a deep forest green to charcoal, which enhanced the allure of her pale eyes. She easily pulled off the sexy and wild-in-bed look while retaining a ladylike dignity.Allison’s clothing was also sexy and suggestive without being trashy. A long, muted purple tunic top with a rounded hem showed off her slightly large and perfectly formed breasts without descending into sluttiness by revealing volumes of cleavage. However, the tunic clung to the contours of her body, hinted at an hourglass figure, and revealed shadowy hints of her full, round breasts. The sexy outlines of her stiff nipples poked out through the fabric. Even though her breasts sat high and firm on her chest, I wondered whether she was wearing a bra. Emerging from beneath the curved hem of her top, black, skin-tight leggings molded themselves to her shapely legs. Simple, worn tennis shoes finished off her ensemble.Her entire look was custom-tailored to illustrate that she was completely herself—no pretenses about not being incredibly sexy, but also that she didn’t have that inflated ego that typically accompanies stunningly good looks. Every word she’d uttered, as well as her body language, intoned, “Here I am, all of me, exactly how I appear. If you like it, then fine. If not, then kiss my very shapely ass.” Her early, solo arrival was orchestrated to give us two girls time to bond, or not before the men came in and spewed testosterone all over the place.The THC-laced gummies were an ingenious statement about her lifestyle and personality. By opting for something a bit taboo, she was announcing that she was unconventional and didn’t care if you knew it. I appreciated her efforts, as they saved us a lot of time. Typically, when women are getting to know each other, a non-verbal evaluation is going on just beneath the surface of polite conversation. By her choices and actions, she’d laid it all out there and left it up Malatya Escort to me. “Don’t mind if I do,” I smiled out to her. My unspoken subtext, as we looked each other over, was that I understood the intent behind everything she’d done, and I both accepted and appreciated her efforts. She nodded in comprehension and smiled broadly, showing perfect teeth.“It’s been years since I was stoned,” I continued as I grabbed two of the sugar-coated, earthy bundles of joy and popped them into my mouth.“Years?” she laughed out. “Oh, sweetheart, maybe just one or less will do you. How’s your tolerance?”I could taste the herbal essence; it was quite pungent despite the sugary sweetness. “Let me put it this way, but don’t tell Mike. In college, they didn’t call me Mary Anne; they called me Mary Jane!”“Oh,” Ginger guffawed. “Then have three.”I complied, then asked. “These taste more like weed than candy. What are they, fifty milligrams?”“No, sweetie, two hundred.”“Oh fuck,” I said in a very ladylike fashion. “I’m going to be so stoned, I’ll probably ruin dinner.”“If you cook one-tenth as well as you keep your home, dinner will be amazing. I must say, I’m embarrassed. My house is a shit-hole compared to yours.”“Well, make yourself at home. I’ll pour you a drink, and, if you’ll excuse me for a moment, go change. I was running a bit behind and was just tidying up a little before I got dressed.” I pointed to the idle vacuum cleaner. “Um, how do you like your drinks?”“Like my men,” she giggled. “Strong, stiff, and another one on the way.”Men wouldn’t understand, but we’d passed each other’s tests. In those few moments, we’d bonded, finding common ground. That meant that we could now cultivate a friendship without putting on false airs. I poured her a strong whiskey on the rocks, adding some sweetening syrup and fruit garnishes, and then ran into the bedroom to hastily change into my dress.The wise words, “Haste makes waste,” were echoed in my mad dash to dress myself. Ginger had been polite or politic enough to not mention the facts that I was clad in only a T-shirt, my fingers glistened with my pussy juice, and that I hadn’t been properly prepared to receive her company. Not wanting to add rudeness to my growing list of faux pas, I tried to dress myself at light speed. The hurried frenzy impeded me to the point of frustration.My initial plan was to wear a matching bra, panties, and garter belt, but my hectic rushing made the straps of the bra all twisty and uneven; my nail caught on my panties and ripped the frilly lace. As a final cruel irony of fate, I tugged at the garter straps too hard and tore one off! With Allison waiting, I had no recourse but to simply pull on the thigh-highs and shimmy into the dress. Nobody will notice or even care, I thought to myself. I ignored the obvious bouncing of my unrestrained boobs and nude ass beneath my dress.“All dressed,” I announced as I came back into the living room. Ginger had meandered around a bit, and she’d stopped at the bay window, at the exact spot I’d just fingered myself to orgasm at.“He’s quite a good-looking young man,” she observed. She pointed to Bobby across the street. He was still tinkering with the mower, struggling to start it. His arm muscles bulged as he frenetically tugged on the pull cord. “Does he always strut around like that?”“All the time.””I’ll need to visit more often. How can I help with dinner?”Although our wayward husbands were due to arrive within thirty or so minutes, Allison and I spent the next forty-five finishing up dinner. Despite all of my housewife mistakes throughout Malatya Escort Bayan the day, dinner was almost perfect. My glazed vegetables were a bit on the dark side, and my bread was just barely undercooked and still a touch doughy. Everything else, especially the sirloin tips, was pure perfection. There wasn’t a single lump in my from-scratch mashed potatoes.During that time, a couple of things happened. Ginger and I got along famously. We also skipped all the small talk, agreeing that the men would bring it all up over dinner because men lack imagination. We got to know each other as people, not defined by what we do. Another thing that happened was that the edibles kicked in and came on strong. By the time we were setting the table, we were both laughing uncontrollably, and tears were welling up in our eyes. We were on a shared journey of bonding giddiness.While I’d initially planned to seat the four of us as two couples across from each other, we decided to switch things up. Ben would be seated on my right, across from Mike, which left Ginger and me face-to-face. That required some slight table setting alterations, but we managed it with ease. According to some recent magazine articles, this would foster group conversation better than if we were seated beside our spouses.Just as we were tending the dessert preparations, laughing over the latest celebrity scandal in the news, the door burst open and Mike waltzed in, his briefcase in one hand and a mostly-drained beer bottle in the other. Beside him was a man I assumed to be Ben. Some faint specters of recognition haunted my mind, and, given the withering stare Allison shot him, I assumed myself to be correct.“Sorry, we’re late, honey,” my husband shouted out. “Look who I ran into when I pulled in.”“Are you drinking already?” Allison scolded her husband with a smile.“It’s only our second!”“Men! Okay, boys, wash up for dinner. Mary’s slaved all day over a hot stove, so act like an adult for once.”I kept quiet, but that didn’t stop my eyes from running all over Ben’s sexy body and ruggedly handsome face. Mike, my husband, is handsome and muscular in a clean-cut way, but Ben was roguishly handsome. His shoulder-length hair was a deep black and framed his angular, chiseled features with gentle, cascading waves. Ben’s muscular torso was clad in a linen shirt with the top two buttons undone, and, while his lower half was encased in denim, it was a designer fit. Smart, patent leather shoes wrapped his feet, and he gave the overall impression of the charismatic leader of the rebellion.“Mike, this is Allison. Do you remember her, now?”My husband, his cheeks slightly pink from the alcohol, stopped to acknowledge our other guest. “Yes, I remember you,” he beamed as they shook hands. “Ginger, please,” she responded, shaking vigorously. I ignored the fact that her probably-braless tits were bouncing up and down along with her arm. I vehemently opted to not see my husband’s eyes bounce up and down, following the heaving of Allison’s incredible boobs. Nor did my eyes perceive the way his lusty stare traveled down her body, fixating on her sexy legs and the treasure box between them.I formally greeted Ben, feeling my entire body grow heated under his gaze. A good wife needs her husband’s friends and guests to want her; that props him up and raises his status in the male pecking order. So, rather than shy away from his lecherous leering, I brazenly let him take all of me in and even jutted my comparatively inadequate breasts out. It was at that moment that I remembered that Escort Malatya I was nude beneath my stylish A-line dress. My nipples responded to my epiphany by growing hard and sticking out, making sexy little points in the front of my dress.“Big Ben!” Mike called. “Let’s wash up. Mary Anne’s cooking is her second-best skill.””Oh, really?” he called back. “And what’s her…” His voice trailed off as they went down the hall.Ginger turned and faced me, a quizzical look on her face. I closed my hand around an imaginary cock and made lunging motions with it toward my mouth. We erupted with cackling laughter.“What’s so funny out there?” my husband’s distant voice queried.“Nothing, tiger,” I responded.“Your dick,” Allison whispered to me.The following bout of laughter between us could only be described as the maniacal tittering of very stoned, deviously perverted women sharing a moment. By the time they’d reemerged from the bowels of our domestic sprawl, we had everything perfectly in place. The dining atmosphere was worthy of gracing the cover of any magazine—domestic bliss in the heartland.With Ginger and me getting along like long-lost friends and Mike and Ben already bonding despite the huge contrasts between them, both conversation and drinks flowed. By the time we’d all but finished my amazingly successful meal, the atmosphere was jovial, comfortable, and somewhat uninhibited.“So, Ginger,” my husband eventually inquired. “What do you do for a living?” He turned his head toward her as he spoke. She glanced at me, and we traded knowing smiles, having already determined that the men would lead with “interview” questions.She took a long sip of her drink, her fifth. I was taking it easy on the alcohol because the edibles I’d eaten had me flying so high that my entire body was tingling and everything was either sultry and arousing or insanely hilarious. Allison’s demure smile communicated volumes of information to me that the men wouldn’t pick up on. With a glance and a timid, naughty smile, she told me that what she was about to say wasn’t the entire truth, but it would be appreciated if I played along.“Oh, I do some part-time cashier work at the grocery store, but most of our income comes from me being a fashion influencer.”“A what?”“Online marketer,” I interjected. “Rather than work for a specific company, an influencer is a sort of freelance marketer that gives reviews of products, usually in a video that people watch online. Then, they get a small commission for each unit they sell.” She was obviously hiding something, but I played along and ignored the unspoken juicy bits that I knew were there.“I’m impressed,” Mike said, looking at her and not me. “Is there much money in that?”Ginger nodded, her boobs bouncing slightly. “Well, it pays the mortgage.”“And it paid for your new tits,” Ben laughed.“I needed them for work, so I could model the newer fashions. Those B-cups weren’t paying the bills.”She was growing flushed with embarrassment, so I interrupted. “That’s right. People online want to look at beautiful and sexy people. So, it makes sense. Honestly, though? They’re fake? I thought you were just blessed with enviable breasts.”Everyone laughed.“Thank you,” she beamed, proudly, shimmying her chest to make them wiggle and bounce. “They look real, don’t they? They feel real, too.”Of course, everyone focused on the topics of discussion. I had to admit that even knowing she’d had them surgically enhanced, her breasts had a natural curve and slope to them. I wondered why I didn’t feel jealous about my husband of six years ogling our dinner guest’s mammaries. I just quaffed my drink and decided that the booze, company, and extremely-potent edibles were the reasons.“You can feel them if you want,” she said. I watched, awestruck, at a total loss for words, as Ginger pivoted in her chair and presented her tits to my slightly inebriated husband.

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 legs are jelly, and my knuckles whiten, clutching the doorframe. The rush of white noise and the swirling hot blood fades. In the distance, I can hear the crashing of the sea. The patter of feet, slow and methodical, cool on the oak floor and plod towards the dining table. Slumped into the wooden chair, bubbles rise in the glass, and the ice cubes are long gone, but it is cold enough to slake my thirst.Peering back, he is still there, a slain beast… for now. His head lolled with lank, messy hair, and his eyes closed. I am burnished with fatigue, but my mind wants to devour him some more. So taut and defined, from his broad shoulders, chiselled abdomen, and snake hips, it rests across his oblique, sleeping. No longer fully engorged but still fat with blood, the echoes of its rigidity ache inside me.I took his second climax astride him, writhing with slithering hips, grinding my juicy cunt against him. Working hard, I exorcised a more powerful orgasm to add to the others. Showing him how it took me, how I convulsed for him, clenching on his shaft, spitting words demanding his seed. Panting and flushed, I lifted my hips and let him pound away to sate his addiction. Purring with my incessant demand to fill me up, he arched, groaned, and blasted his essence into my married cunt.The humidity threatened this response all day, a flash of lightning briefly illuminates the unlit lounge, and a distant roll of thunder ripples away. Absent-minded fingers reach down and find what he put in there. The satin texture invites me to play with it, slipping it between my fingers and tasting the mixture of our passion.The slashing rain against the tall window panes forces the spark of an idea. To be naked outside, its tepid warmth soothing the hot glow within, and my loins tingle with a fresh heat. I would stake out my lover on the lawn as an offering to the thunder gods. Lashed by rain, symbolic of the lifeblood of our verdant Manisa Escort surroundings, I would ride him as a sacrifice. Squeezing on his shaft, goading his aching balls until the storm demands he places his seed into my belly. A fantasy of fecundity, and I cannot suppress its power. What has he done to me, this virile stud?Indulging my freewheeling mind, inspired by the vision before me, it must be placated as I ease my fingers inside, skidding my thumb over my sensitive clit.-=-Was I coy? No. Was it an accident? No. A lioness might feign disinterest and pretend to ignore her prey. That might accurately describe what happened, but it would be a lie. I am not so vain and arrogant to think he was helpless to my wiles. He is a handsome, tall man, easily capable of attracting someone his own age. I have nearly thirty years on him; he is a mere eighteen.He is our neighbour’s son, my voyeur, and this was a very silent seduction. We live on this headland, an impractical perch for two houses joined to civilisation by a narrow track road. As our bedroom overlooks their house, I have goaded him at twilight for weeks. With the lights on, I have paraded through my bedroom in lingerie or naked from the bathroom; I know he has seen me.I was no angel on that unloved shingle beach. In the high humidity under a baking sun, the discreet lagoon presents itself for only a few hours each day. The ebb and flow of the tide perfectly timed for the mid-afternoon sun.Oh, I wanted him to follow me here. I caught him spying on me the day before, peering over a boulder. Laid out, my bikini top removed, yearning to be admired, ogled, and the inspiration for his arousal. I ached to be his forbidden fruit, his secret passion, the woman that pushed the envelope of his desires. The married woman with her breasts exposed and no tan lines, pretending to be unaware of her lusty voyeur.Today, I am naked. From behind Manisa Escort Bayan my sunglasses, he peers over the same boulder with his avaricious eyes on my body. With a curled lip and a simple ‘Hello’, my hand patted the pebbles as my invitation to join me.This was an opportunistic crime of passion. I am here alone, and so is he. It is not loneliness that spurred us on but the absolute improbability that made it exciting. Here, of all the places on this island. Between us, of all the people here. The student and the wife, the plotline to a predictable porn flick perhaps, but say that when you watch me slurping on his cock under the fierce sun.What a treat it was too. I did not kiss him, and from the first touch of his reclined body, he was fully hard as soon as my hand squeezed it through his shorts. He spat out some rushed words about my husband, and my gaze did not waver. Such dirty words would shame anyone else; they were my badge of honour. I doubt he ever heard them before except on the internet. From me? Old enough to know better, breathlessly vowelled, my French accent softening the filth that poured out from my maw? It was my instruction manual for this afternoon; everything I wanted in the most pornographic detail I could manage.Paralysed into obeyance, he eased down his shorts, revealing the black void of his mouth when I wrapped my hand around it. Large pebbles clattered as I eased down his prone body. It was heavy and warm in my grasp, and plump veins meandered over his curved shaft. The fully drawn-back velveteen skin stretched over his thick girth. Completely rigid, licking it up and down, it was a long red-hot poker capable of satisfying my craven demands.I would not kiss his mouth, but I kissed its corpulent head. Glancing into his eyes, mine burned into his soul as I captured its heft. Wrapping my lips around it, my hand worked in unison and stole his Escort Manisa breath. The corkscrew grip and sunken cheeks provided plenty of slippery friction as my wanton eyes refused to waver.He complained about a lack of endurance. I did not care, and from the size of those chunky balls, he would not miss his first ejaculation. Besides, I wanted to know how much he had and how much he could produce. Young men are capable of such a fine inundation, and I was being selfish. Gasping, snatching air, he was helpless to halt the inevitable. My ranging hand sampled his trembling portents, a plucked nipple vibrated his stiffening body like a long piano string. My moan thrummed along his shaft, a symptom of my pleasure, as I fingered my cunt while he swelled.There I was, providing an exhibition, a gift to remember in the years to come. Perhaps at the epiphany of climax with another woman, this memory would be there instead. At the denouement of this tawdry act, my open mouth waited for his seed. Watching, he twitched with a groan, and now, he would understand. The first rope shot into my mouth, the pleasure clear in my gaze upon him. I took his entire length as deep as I could manage, pressing my nose into his sparse thatch of pubic hair. He hollered amidst the cries of seagulls, spasming hard, holding my head with his hand as I swallowed it all.Panting, “Oh fuck,” as his mantra, I savoured its bittersweet taste.Cleaning up his twitching shaft, I grinned at his incredulity, “Good boy. Now… come back to mine,” and squeezed his tight balls, “I’m Ines.”“Jake,” he gasped.With a single raised eyebrow and a tilt of my head, I stroked his cock.There was still plenty of life in it, “Mmm, you recover quickly. I want you in my cunt next.”I grinned as he jolted at my frank admission.“O… Okay.”In his lust-drunk state, he was my prey, and now, he succumbed to my wiles.-=-In my lair of dark woods and linen-coloured walls adorned with erotic art, Jake will keep his word. In our guest bathroom, my body glows in a refractory state, and I ease the chromed plug into my slicken ass. It pushes the remnants of his essence from my sex. Bent over, peering back, a flash and the synthetic shutter captures the moment.

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

Things never turn out the way you expect, or so the saying goes.The saying should be expanded. Sometimes, things turn out in ways you couldn’t possibly expect, and then become things that, prior to them turning out, you didn’t even know were the things you were supposed to be expecting… Does that make sense?When Y’Dryth and its vassal planets finally disappear in our proverbial rear-view mirror and we’re literally four star systems over, Rune and Bane decide that we should start looking for a place to put down roots for a while. Basically… house hunting, right? No pressure. I’ve watched plenty of Beachfront Bargain Hunt to prepare me for every eventuality.Except that the “houses” in question are not exactly ideal. Not only are they mostly drippy grotto-type places, or hollowed-out trees, or the occasional intergalactic equivalent of a cabin in the woods, complete with the C-horror-movie feel to it. If that were the only issue, I’d gladly stay so long as someone always accompanies me to the outhouse.No, it’s more that they are either on planets that don’t have an atmosphere I can comfortably breathe, are located on active volcanos, underwater, in sandstorm-nado alleys, swarming with insects (and I mean INSECTS. Think MEGAFAUNA) or surrounded by large, aggressive, pervy vegetation (don’t ask). More often than that, they are already occupied by the locals, and more often than not, those locals recognize Bane and Rune for what they are, turn tail and run when we come, lurk somewhere close, and then start firing at us once as we’re leaving.It’s kinda disheartening and also frightening just how far the Drythian reputation precedes them. We’re literally underway at max speed for several months into one direction and yet, wherever we go and find intelligent life forms, they seem to know what a Dryth is and to be scared of them.With this in mind, when we finally find an actual abandoned planet that’s habitable for little old me, I’m the one who urges everyone ‘let’s stay here’ on the first day.And, to be honest, it’s a good week, all in all. The two suns burn hot and the moon, although it reminds me uncomfortably of Majora’s Mask (because of the face…), is kinda pretty to look at. We’re camped out by a lake and the water is sweet, the plentiful fish only slightly scary and largely edible. The rains are devastating and frequent, but the ship offers protection from them.I haven’t figured out exactly what’s bothering me about the place – and I’m determined to not say anything because it’s clear that Rune, Bane, and Kay all enjoy the wide open space – when new stars appear in the otherwise empty night sky one morning.We end up being bombed out of our interim-to-permanent home by a small fleet of Dryth that’s apparently been following our trail across the universe, intent on killing us all, or killing three of us and kidnapping the elusive heir to the Dryth throne for their weird ass transition of power rituals or whatever. It is one of the scariest things ever, and it damages our ship and sends Kay into a funk.We get away by the skin of our teeth. As we hobble along at reduced speed towards our next unknown destination, it turns out that Kay’s funk is more of a hormonal imbalance thing. Pregnancy hormones.In all fairness, she does end up asking me nicely – really, really nicely – even though it’s not really in her hands at that point.Her mating heat comes over her from one day to the next and transforms her into a scary little harpy, and the ship into a sado-maso sex fest. Her pheromones hit Bane and Rune both (and me as well, to be honest – I masturbate until my fingertips are wrinkly those days) and send them into scuffles (sexy, sexy scuffles) with each other for the privilege of copulation with her. In the end, Rune puts his cock in her – and it is every bit as frightening and arousing as I thought it would be – and Bane puts his in me, and then spanks me until my ass is swollen and his hormonal rage has abated.Thus, we’re now officially pregnant, on the run from assassins in a battered spaceship, with no clear course or destination. So much for preparing everything and prepping a nest for Kay. Something, something, gang aft agley.The good thing is, Kay is entirely unbothered by the lack of comprehensive plans for her pregnancy or offspring. Somehow, she’s the one that ends up comforting me.Val, Rune, Bane, Bun, Kay, yes together yes yes, she insists. I’m a little sad she’s learned their names properly, but very delighted that she’s adopted the name I’ve been calling our newest crew member-to-be. Bun, as in, the one in the oven.Yes all good, together. Thyis’a-ku.Who am I to argue with a pregnant lady?It’s almost a month until we finally arrive at a planetary system which, Rune informs me, is very similar to the Vurn X’lora cluster: part of a neutral-ish side corridor that is left alone by armies for ordnance purposes and/or because of its massively out-of-the-way location, nearby black holes, and asteroid belts, and left alone by everyone else because it’s just not interesting in any fashion – no significant natural resources, no commercial potential to speak of, not even enslavement-worthy locals. The planetary equivalent of an overgrown traffic island. We touch down on M/83 Vevvy Oylee V’lva – I snort so hard when Rune tells me that’s the actual name of this planet and still giggle intermittently as we descend through rainclouds and see a sprawling settlement below – on what appears to be a drizzly Thursday afternoon. (Because, seriously, Thursday afternoons have a kind of drag and lull to them that’s just universally recognizable.)Our ship checks in with the spaceport – a bit smaller than the one on Vurn X’lora was, and largely unbusy – and thence trundles straight towards the dockyard of a township merely designated “H0” for necessary repairs. Rune pays for the repairs upfront before we even get off the ship and before any locals can clap their eyes on us – just in case they refuse the money, refuse the service, and run screaming. Unnecessary, as it turns out, since the dockyard workers appear to be ten-foot-tall three-legged eyeless earthworms that ignore all four of us in favor of speaking (or flirting?) with our ship as they immediately get to work (I think? Really hard to tell, but it looked a bit porn-y to me).Bane and Rune, half in Dryth battle dress with their more ostentatious weapons dangling by their thighs, flank Kay and me, both in sarong-like dresses – my left boob hangs out and my hair is freshly half-shorn, just in case, and Bane is gripping Kay’s tail tightly – as we make our way to the commercial district. We walk down the little hill on which the dockyard is perched and through a mostly deserted shopping street. (Thursday, remember?) The buildings on each side have large round doors, and the majority of the people scuttling through them will maybe reach my elbow, so I immediately re-christen this place ‘H0bbiton’.At first and second glance, H0bbiton is kinda dull in an inoffensive way, which is a nice change of pace after all those visits to planets that wanted to kill us (and especially the weakling human among the group) in a variety of ways the moment we set foot upon them. There are little shops that sell trinkets, clothes, furniture, and real estate. They seem to be operated by robots. There’s a bit of greenery between the buildings and also growing on the drooping roofs that soaks up the gentle drizzle of rain. I see two fat rodent-like creatures climb up a commercial structure, with a cat-like animal in pursuit. Teeming with life, H0bbiton is not. A couple of inhabitants in what looks like wheelchairs cross our paths (and then I realize that the chairs are actually part of their bodies), then a few toad-like people who seem to be walking on their hands (or maybe their heads are just located between their legs?), then two Mersin Escort mermaids (absolutely frightening), accompanied by a la-z-boy with massive testicles (not joking). Seems like a diverse crowd, even though we’re on the ass end of the galaxy. And nobody pays us any particular attention, which is a relief. Kay is clearly not a fan of being led around by her tail, and Bane graciously lets go of it once it’s clear that nobody is giving a fig about us. (I leave my boob where it is because why the heck not.)Since this place apparently isn’t exactly a tourism hotspot, there are no info maps or even road signs to guide us. We’re searching for a place to eat and drink, and a merchant willing to help us stock up on provisions, fuel cells, air filters – everything we’ll need for the onward journey, in as large quantities as possible.And since we don’t know where we’re going, we end up going to the place where one can always get this sort of info, as well as any other type of info. The place that commercial streets in settlements like this always lead to.You know the saying, “All roads lead to Rome”? Well, all roads lead to Rome because there were lots and lots of brothels in Rome and that’s where people wanted to go.The brothel that, as usual, is also a trading place, a bar, a hotel, a repair workshop, a supermarket, a restaurant, a news station, and a post office is located at the very end of the mercantile district in a cute little park. I mean, it looks cute and little from afar and then turns out to be something of a Grimm fairy tale forest, with gnarled, thorned and suspiciously sentient-seeming vegetation. We pass by a couple of trees with reddish-brown leaves that flutter in the drizzling rain like so many butterfly wings and I don’t know whether I’m delighted or wigged out. A fitting feeling, really, considering where we’re going.There are three bouncers. They look like a grasshopper begat a space shuttle. Rune and Bane ignore them, so I do my best to do that as well. Bane steps in through the open door, followed by Kay, me, and Rune bringing up the rear, and then we’re all… here.Okay. So. I’m definitely more wigged out than delighted. Not only does this place look like a freaking replica of “my” brothel on Vurn X’lora 15 – slightly nicer and bigger, and good gods, is that hardwood floor? That is gorgeous! – so that the sheer trip-down-memory-lane-ness of it makes my palms itch.But there’s also a violent murder in progress, and there’s blood and brain matter dripping off the bar. (That can’t be up to health code.)A tan-skinned female alien is pounding something that looks like an ashtray into the pulpy leftovers of an alien of indeterminable race. Said pulpy leftovers are making gurgling noises interspersed with high-pitched warbles that must be that particular race’s cries for help. Another, smaller female alien of the same coloring as the murderess is standing by, hollering up a storm and apparently trying (and failing) to stop her fellow alien. A handful of people are sitting around at the scattered tables and watching the goings-on with that special Thursday Afternoon DGAFerrence. Up on a stage in the mid-center of the floor, a very pink, pixie-sized alien is standing with two of her hands on her hips, watching with her one eye and a definite air of ‘Can we get on with this? I was in the middle of my set’. Eventually, there is nothing left for the ashtray-wielding female to pound and the noises have died, and she chucks the bloody hunk of heavy material to the floor, getting off the counter herself and looking around at her audience.“Kat-xat neg aituk Sneferu bexet je-t!” she scoffs and spits at the mound of organ-and-bone jello. “The next round is on manager Sneferu.”And then she slings an arm around the other female’s shoulders and leads her out of the main room and through the side door. As they go, I can see an angry-looking, red-and-black-singed pattern on the other female’s right buttock, standing out starkly against her sandy skin tone. A fresh brand, and an ugly and massive one at that, spanning the entire glute. The female is limping heavily to avoid jostling it. I grimace in sympathy. “Looks like Sneferu had it coming,” I mumble to myself. I had almost forgotten how much I loathe managers, but some are definitely more garbage than others. Since every other patron ignores the bloody mess, we do as well and find ourselves a table. The pink pixie resumes undulating, contorting, and whistling on her stage, although I see her eye flick over to the corpse every now and then. The ‘I wonder who’s gonna pay me now’ is really clear on her face.Rune manages to chat up an alien that looks like a frightened mop and extracts some information from him before the authorities inevitably arrive.The authorities on Vevvy Oylee V’lva are… well. They are orange, tall, large and wide in stature, bulbous and wobbly in the belly area, with a weird bow-legged yet stiff-kneed gait. They’re brandishing wicked-looking guns clenched in strangely small hands. They remind me of someone, but I can’t put my finger on it. Seven or eight of them swarm the brothel’s main room, screaming and shouting at nobody in particular and for no discernible reason like the galaxy’s most obnoxious SWAT team.None of the patrons, including us, moves. Not in a “rabbit in danger” kind of way, more in the “unbothered capybara” way. Alright. So, this seems to be a somewhat everyday occurrence in this establishment, then? Pink pixie throws all of her arms up and vanishes, chittering and grumbling loudly, behind her curtain.Rune and Bane both just sit and watch, watchful but not tense. That means we’re safe. I act like I’m sipping my complimentary tea – it’s much hotter than water on Earth could ever be so I won’t be able to drink it, but it smells nice and the cup it’s in is merely nice and toasty warm in my palms – and still wish we could get out of here.Then, two of the tangerine ‘officers’ are pulling the murderess through the side door. She’s shouting expletives, absolutely livid and writhing in the orange one’s grip while a third of them is leading her smaller, newly-branded friend behind them. His stubby fingers are fisted in that one’s hair. There’s a contraption slapped around her delicate throat, like a heretics fork. She’s naturally wailing in pain and fear and clearly fighting for her life.I’m starting to feel ill and angry with sympathy. A voice in my brain – for once, it’s my own – is starting to go ‘No no no this ain’t right’, followed by ‘This is going to hell in a handbasket, fast’.I should start a soothsaying business.One of the Carrot Constabulary grabs the smaller one by her ass – clearly aiming for her pussy, though – with the air of a male who does that routinely and probably justifies it by saying that it’s a surefire way to control a truculent female and that they secretly all like it. This female has a painful fresh brand on her ass, though, and starts to howl in absolute agony and tries to get away from him even harder.Her murderous friend then starts biting people. It’s not the wisest course of action, but damn, I can’t say it’s the wrong one.Electro-guns go off. The sizzle and smell of burning flesh fill the air. More shouts, more howls.Rune’s bird screeches a warning in my brain that sets my teeth on edge. Easy, there, easy.More officers barge in through the front door, and then go through to the back rooms, quickly and none-too-gently pulling out a handful more workers, the pixie contortionist among them. She’s barely half their height and maybe a sixth of their weight, and still, they also put one of those torture devices around her neck.What a bunch of motherfuckers. I grind my teeth and scowl.“Jai na bigli covfefe—” One of the officers starts shouting, and my translator takes over: “This cesspit is being cleaned up. All vermin Mersin Escort Bayan whores come with us.” I have the time to pull a face and think ‘Wow, you are such a massive asshole’, and then realize that he and two of his asshole friends have turned to and are addressing us. Our table, specifically. Kay and me, to be precise. Oh. Ohh. We’re apparently two of those vermin whores he’s talking about and whom he wants to come with him. They come at us from the side and the one at the front grabs for Kay who’s sitting a little closer.My Kay. Our Kay. Pregnant Kay with her adorable cantaloupe-sized baby bump called Bun, or Bunbun, Buns, or Bunny. I’m on my feet before he makes contact with her skin and throw the uber-hot tea in his face with a subtle and concise, “DON’T YOU FUCKING TOUCH HER, YOU FUCKING FUCK!” and then hurl the emptied teacup itself for good measure, missing his head by a bare inch.The bird that is Rune is now something closer to a vengeful thundercloud, and I can feel him exerting his awesome, horrible power on the fucking fuck and his friend both, boiling their synapses inside of their ugly heads.At the very same moment, Bane’s halberd-machete zings through the air and cleanly slices off three of the officer’s stubby fingers. (I think he originally aimed for the arm, but the fucking fuck moved after he got a face full of lava tea.)Blood sprays. Wilhelm screams. Severed limbs. I want to ask Bane if it’s also reminding him very much of our meet cute. Ah, good times, good times.As I look at the severed fingers and see them writhe on the floor like little maggots, I decide that I can hold my shit together right now and delay my puking for at least thirty to forty minutes. Until then, I’m gonna be milking the adrenaline cow for all she’s worth.So I get up on my stool and start yelling.“And you!” I point at the assholes manhandling the murderess and her branded pal by the bar. I point with my index finger like I’m Hulk Hogan, except less problematic, and with only one nipple out. It’s bloody brilliant. “Yes, you, you mango-tango-colored bastards! Unhand these females, right the fuck now!” And then one thing leads to another – shots, yelling, blood, gore, Rune making some heads explode with his brain, Kay poisoning some people with her quills (you wouldn’t believe where they come from!), Bane throwing his scythe-thing around, tear gas, female empowerment, negotiations, a wee bit of trench warfare, yadda-yadda-yadda – and suddenly, a couple of grateful bordello workers and a newly-sole shareholder of the establishment, by a show of hands and hands-equivalent appendages, appoint me, Valerie Magdalena Greene, the new manager of a brothel at the end of the universe.Someone call Alanis Morrissette. I have an idea for a song.***When I look out the window from the masters’ (and mistresses’) bedroom, I can see the dark outline of our ship in the garden, illuminated by the white moon. The dockyard workers have patched her up in record time – and, according to Rune, armed her to the teeth. She’s programmed to act like an antiballistic missile system and intercept anything and anyone that comes flying at the Volvo with the intent of doing harm. Yes, I’ve renamed the brothel. The Volvo of Vevvy Oylee V’lva. I think it has a ring to it, personally.Of the former workers, all but one have stayed after the takeover, and one of my first official acts was to emancipate them and hire them as proper contractors. Naurity is the only one who’s technically still enslaved because she murdered someone, and the slavery laws on this planet are such that she, being a ‘thing’, can’t be held responsible; her owner is. However, her owner – I – can’t be persecuted for a crime they didn’t commit themselves. Neat loophole, that. After some talk with the lawyers, I paid off the aggrieved party with the help of Bane and Rune and the matter was settled. To be honest, Sneferu’s family didn’t seem terribly aggrieved to me. Gee, I wonder why.Naurity is now managing the bar, and the ashtrays, and has a therapist to help her manage her anger issues. (…and her statue plans. You see, Naurity has been saving all of her bar money for a nine-foot-tall marble statue of me – on a stool, pointing my index finger while yelling, one tit out – that she wants installed on the brothel’s main floor. The therapist is trying to talk her out of it, with limited success so far.) (Send help.)I also got all of my workers some health care – especially Evnity, who’s going to get a skin graft next month that’ll hopefully erase the horrific mark on her buttock -, updated the kitchen to their dietary needs, hired personal bodyguards, and had their rooms upgraded and their doors fitted with personalized locks – there had been, up to that point, locks on the outside of them.Sneferu is lucky he’s already dead, really.The grasshopper-bouncers were chased off… and possibly hunted to death… I didn’t really ask. Bane and Rune did the honors after the workers told me that the bouncers’ main job was to shoot fleeing workers in the back.The longer I think about my predecessor, the more I’m tempted to join Naurity in her anger issues therapy session, and maybe commission a nine-foot-tall statue of Sneferu that we can use as target practice.The place now has a Dryth duo as bouncers/security bosses. Management and staff are very, very happy with them indeed. They’re not super talkative, but they’re dependable and fierce and fuuucking sexy in their armor.The postal workers that were managing their mysterious postal-worker-y things in a downstairs archival room have renegotiated their terms with me. There’s a little-old-lady alien who came in one day last week and has been wordlessly working the kitchen all by herself (and scaring the living snot out of me ever since). (She also does take-out.) (It’s really good, too!) There’s an honest-to-goodness cobbler who’s interested in renting a space, a robot who fixes robots who wants to work out of an adjacent garage, and just yesterday, a vendor moved onto the premise and put their little drugstore-on-wheels by the driveway. Several of the sex workers have created additional jobs here as well – gardening, decoration, singing and entertainment, dance lessons, video classes, cleaning, and repairs. Thinking about it all makes me a bit misty-eyed. It’s all going so… so well! I mean, we had a bit of a slow start after the chaos with the cops, but the patrons/clients/customers are coming back to the Volvo now – according to the workers, in slightly greater and increasing numbers than before. Just a little more, and my brothel (restau-market-bar-thel-arage) will be breaking even.My brothel. That’s insane. Let’s say it again: This is my brothel. I partially own and fully manage this establishment. My signature is at the bottom of that sheet of digital paper. My brothel. Mine.It’s really more than that, though. It’s also our fortress. Apart from the missile beast that is our ship that’s parked right outside, Bane and Rune have their supporting security personnel patrol the grounds with leashed gordruns, installed a permanent sniper on the roof, have commissioned the building of two bomb shelters, a subterranean maze of secret passageways, and an honest-to-goodness moat. A moat with flesh-eating critters in it. Kay feeds them regularly. (I don’t ask.)Seeing that a) we’ve managed (ha!) to come to an agreement with the police force, b) we’ve buttered enough fingers of the local politicians to be benignly tolerated for the next fifty years or so, c) all the patrons, clients, and travelers coming through are extremely chill, and d) there almost certainly isn’t a single hostile Dryth coming this way anytime soon (Planet Traffic Island perks), the ground defense Rune and Bane have set up seems a little bit like overkill.I have a feeling, though, Escort Mersin that this might just be the Dryth version of nesting. Kay has popped out overnight, and suddenly Bun is roughly twice their former size. Apparently, Drahta gestation periods are a bit shorter than humans’, and fetal development is a bit more… erratic. Rune and Bane are around Kay like she’s the last musical chair in the whole universe and the song is about to stop. It’s actually adorable in a bossy kind of way.I turn away from the view and look over at them on our big platform bed. (It’s more of a karate mat on stumpy stilts, but it has a pillow, so it counts. I haven’t been able to persuade my three paramours to allow me to have a blanket – they all insist that I don’t need one since I have them to cover me. Which is… technically correct. Grrr.)Bane is at Kay’s head, Rune at her feet, she between them on her back. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say they’re trying to tickle and/or strangle her. She seems about 85% okay with that. What’s really going on is that they’re peeling Kay out of her multiple layers of armored clothes which they insist she wear while she’s running around in the grove outside. She haaaates these clothes. But she haaaates getting out of them again even more. Pregnancy has made Kay a bit of a moody, irritable grump, to be honest. Or maybe she’s just not genetically hardwired to accept anyone’s, let alone two males’, overbearing ministrations. Grumpy or sunny, with or without clothes, she’s magnificent.Personally, I like seeing any of them strip, or be stripped. Not picky.Val, Val, Val!I can hear Kay across small distances now. Only single words and it takes some ‘shouting’ on Kay’s part, but I get her. I don’t know if it’s a natural development, or if it’s because of her pregnancy – maybe it makes her stronger? – or maybe she’s riding on Rune’s frequency. I don’t really care. All I know is that we’re in tune.She sounds extra whiny tonight. She reaches for me with an actorly hand, which quickly gets snatched by Bane and divested of its wrist protectors. Vaaaal. Fucking shit hornyyyy.Yeah, there had never been any hope for her vocabulary.“Who’s horny, darling? Me or you?” I snort and walk over, un’zipping’ my bio-garment and leaving it on the floor. It’s white and gauzy and very comfortable – a gift from Naurity. (I have a closet full of those now. She crochets them herself.) “Or Rune? Or Bane?”She pouts, which looks charmingly weird on her alien face, and replies, Yes.I laugh and lean down to give her a peck on the pouty lips. She catches my lower lip between her teeth, sucks on it a bit, and then snakes her tongue deep into my mouth. Ungh, yes please thank you.Hot. Hot hot hot. My alien girlfriend is so fucking sexy, I want to eat her up.Fortunately, with the help of my distraction, the boys are quickly finished undressing her, and I seize the opportunity to enjoy her now-bared tits – deliciously swollen and tender, tipped with newly puffy and extra-sensitive nipples that the boys (and I) love to chew on to drive her crazy (how convenient that there’s four of them!). Only after I’m good and done with that, do I pepper kisses on her taut stomach. Drahta’s pregnancy bellies are shaped like a gourd instead of a watermelon. Kay has some insane abdominal muscles that are keeping it all in place like an inbuilt belly-sling/corset, giving her skin actual tiger stripes that just look so, so badass. I like to imagine that the smaller bulb at the top of the gourd is Bunbun’s head, and the bigger one is their body, limbs all folded up and the tail tied around them like a bow, like Alien meets Anne Geddes.Just in case they can somehow hear me or my thoughts, I think and murmur a couple of fond greetings at Bun while I caress their mother-to-be’s stretched skin with my fingertips and lips.And then I slide lower, between Kay’s legs, ready to lick her slit, tongue her hole, nibble on the sensitive fold of skin just where her tail attaches to her behind – and I rear back. “Uhm. Kay?” There’s a… there’s something coming out of her. It looks a little like a… uuuh.Is that a prolapse? I squint at it. It doesn’t quite look like the one I’ve seen in that leaflet in my OBGYN’s waiting room when I was fifteen. (Mildly traumatizing, to be honest. I was not prepared.) But it does seem to be a flesh-colored something that’s coming out of her vagina, and I’m pretty sure it wasn’t there yesterday. I’m worried. My brain immediately starts computing which of the health care professionals I’ve had over for my workers these past weeks might also be able to help my A’Draht. S’s’siki is a lelepxi and they kinda sorta look like Drahta, and the ooli woman called Mirt once mentioned that her vagina prolapses as a part of normal intercourse, so maybe…I bite my lip. “Kay, love, are you-” in pain? I want to ask, but she immediately interrupts me, shaking her head even as her feelers are lifting into the air around her head, reaching for me, and Rune, and Bane.Kay is horny pregnant A’Draht, she purrs in my frontal lobe as she leans back luxuriously against Rune’s broad chest and spreads her legs farther for my benefit. Horny pregnant A’Draht must fight, must prevail against strong un-pregnant females in group. Kay can offer food, services, good favor for protection…As her thoughts percolate through my cerebellum, the thing between her legs folds up tightly, like a rolled-up tongue, until it’s vaguely spear-shaped, slim, and maybe five inches long. It gleams with moisture and twitches obscenely as its smoothly tapered tip rises towards me.“Holy shit.” I am a little bit shocked when the realization hits me that my alien girlfriend grew a pseudopenis overnight.Every time I think I’m done being amazed by them, something like this happens.And she is planning to offer me ‘good favor’ with it. I’m always in big trouble when Kay has something ‘good’ for me in mind. She either hasn’t realized that I’m a human with a comparatively low human stamina and pain threshold, or… she really doesn’t care all that much. And I’m too much of a horndog to honestly complain even when she makes me do the kind of athletic things that my body wasn’t really designed for.I’m still staring, open-mouthed, at my girlfriend’s new asset when Rune’s tale loops around my neck. “Val, Teechir,” he drawls in his sexy, heavy accent. “Leek. Tehhst.” A nervous giggle escapes me. Of all the alien penises I’ve seen (and licked and tasted), this one is definitely special. I gently wrap my fingers around the slightly bulging shaft. It’s slick and sinewy and has little ripples that echo the pattern of the muscles inside Kay’s vaginal canal. Yes good yesyesyes, Kay chants in my head, and her pelvis rocks into my touch.Bane groans and grabs his own cock in a tight fist.Rune’s tail drags me downwards until my face is pressed to Kay’s crotch. I stick out my tongue and give this salmon-colored popsicle a long, slow lick-and-suck down the side. Kay’s now-familiar taste and texture fill my mouth. The bliss that I’m giving her floods the room. We all sigh as it pools between and washes over us.Bliss. That’s what this is.Bliss, which increases and increases with every passing minute that I get to spend with my lovers.Later, when all three of my holes are being filled – feeling Kay’s pregnant belly bump against my ass and back as she drives into me is an interesting sensation – both my nipples are being pinched, someone is choking my neck with artful precision, and three different voices talk dirty to me… I realize with a small jolt— That I’ve done it. I made it.I’m still breathing. (Well, not right this very moment, but you know what I mean.)I’ve made a capital-C change in my life. Several of them, to be precise. I’ve followed through and persevered and made stuff happen.The people I love – I have managed to keep them at my side. We’re all alive and healthy and home.I’m happy. I’ve managed to find actual happiness in a brothel – my brothel – at the end of the universe.And I really don’t want this story to end anytime soon.~~ THE END  ~~ Holy shit, you read all of that? Are you okay? Blink twice if you need help.

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

Zafael found herself being dragged further and further underwater, held tight by the massive arms of her aquatic lover. Fear threatened to overtake her mind, drawing her into its endless depths of madness. She had reflexively shut her eyes and nose after being thrown into the frigid water, but now she was quickly running out of air. She desperately struck out at the creature. Shoving, clawing, pushing against his iron grip with all her might.It was a hopeless struggle, she could not outmatch the creature in strength. No matter how much she fought, it made no difference in the end. The creature’s strength was absolute, unyielding, and terrifying. Fear clawed at the fringes of her mind, ripping, tearing at her thoughts. She continued to sink further down, pulled unyieldingly below the surface, vanishing completely into the shadowy waters. She knew with a final moment of clarity that she would die in the depths of the water. Downed at the hands of this merciless beast.Instead, she found his tender lips touching hers, embracing her in a passionate kiss. Zafael was in shock, but she allowed her mouth to meet with his. She hungrily pressed her lips against the creature’s, and to her amazement, air began to fill her empty lungs.In this strange, sudden intimate embrace was her salvation! She gave herself fully to his kiss, swallowing the air in gulps. She threw her arms around the creature, clutching at her savior in a desperate, overwhelming embrace. He hadn’t meant to drown her, no, he was giving himself to her, sustaining her as they traveled to a mysterious new location.Zafael squeezed the merman, feeling the thick swollen muscles along the creature’s enormously strong back. She wasn’t sure if it was the sudden pure oxygen that she was receiving, or from the previous asphyxiation, but she could feel her nipples harden excitedly against the creatures bulging pectoral muscles. She couldn’t lose him, not now. Slipping Tokat Escort away from the creature’s grasp, his life-giving embrace would mean almost certain death.The two sunk further and further together. They were an intertwined pair of nude bodies, breasts joined to breasts, cock pressed desperately against the soft mound of a bare pussy and exposed ass cheeks. The two continued their steady descent, the concept of time slipping away from Zafael as they sunk together.The light from the surface slowly changed to an ink-black darkness. Zafael felt lost to the fresh cold darkness that now wrapped them in its hold. She could no longer even see the creature whose wet lips mated with her own. Her world was now pitch black. Save for the air that was breathed into her, and the creature’s touch on her shoulder and waist, she could almost believe she was alone, lost in the void of darkness.Zafael began to panic. She tried to calm down, to reassure herself. She concentrated on her breathing, slowly taking short breaths, trying to relax. She could breathe, and wasn’t that the most important thing right now? It meant that she would survive this. But a lurking thought intruded into her subconscious.“What if I never see another thing again?” The blackness around her pressed in on all sides. It was a total definitive unfailing truth. There was nothing beyond it, complete, unyielding. Was there truly anything beyond that? How could she be certain?Pushing those thoughts aside she forced herself to concentrate on a new change that was happening. The water was beginning to feel different. What was once a coldness that took her breath away, began to yield to a warmer temperature. It was not the only change either! Zafael could begin to make out the outline of the creature that was her lover. At first she thought it was her imagination, having become accustomed to the pitch black the sight of anything seemed Tokat Escort Bayan almost far-fetched.But no, she was sure of it. The mercreature was becoming more and more real before her eyes. Blue and purple scales peppered his muscular skin and gave way to a chiseled physique. Gaps split from his neck (gills she was certain) that fluctuated open and close, open and close as he breathed air into her lungs. The darkness was retreating from them, blossoming from a soft blue aura that originated from below their feet. The darkness was beginning to give way to an ephemeral glow. It bathed both her and the creature in a pale blue hue.Zafael began to relax. Seeing the powerful creature with his arms wrapped around her frail body made her feel safe and comforted. His strong arms held her tight, safe from anything that could threaten her in the water’s hidden depths.Her body began to relax into his, now sensing that the immediate worry, the impending danger had passed. Zafael’s eyes began to drift shut, a calming peace spreading throughout her body. But it was not the only feeling that gripped her. A new-found hunger ignited in her body now that she was sure she had been spared death.With her one hand still firmly on the creature’s impressive back, her other hand began to move lower. It glided over hills and valleys of the creature’s muscular back. Her fingers grazed over thick cords of muscle and the pronounced arch of the beat’s spine. It wasn’t long before she found her prize. Zafael slid her fingers over the creature’s exposed buttox, gripping a large portion of the mass in her hand and squeezing it in her palm.The aquatic creature suddenly released a short gasp of bubbles from his nose, his expression otherwise remaining still. Zafael smiled wickedly, knowing that she could still surprise the creature. Well, she thought, this wasn’t the only trick she had in mind. Her fingers dove greedily Escort Tokat between the hills of the creature’s ass. Her middle finger explored deep within his crevice, sliding along the trench until it arrived at its target.But the moment of peace and fun was all too short-lived.Bright lights suddenly tore through the water on both sides of her and the creature. The beams crisscrossed from both directions, meeting at the silhouettes of their nude descending forms. Powerful arms grabbed her and her companion. Her captor responded immediately, shifting his body to put himself in front of the intruders. But it was ultimately a fruitless gesture. Despite her companion’s strength, his grip was pried loose. Strong hands tore at her body, snatching her away from her savior, her lover.A small scream escaped her lungs, lost in air bubbles that exploded from her lips. Zafael quickly snapped her mouth shut, desperate to conserve the remaining air that she had left. Separated from the other creature’s mouth, she was once again without air. Anxiety and fear once again returned, paralyzing her in its clutches. She was alone down here, defenseless, helpless. Without oxygen, it was only a short matter of time before she would suffocate.Zafael glanced quickly between the two creatures that held her. She stopped resisting their grip, knowing it was ultimately useless and a waste of the little bit of oxygen still left in her lungs. She observed that the things restraining her were guards of some sort. Both creatures wore sparse armor. A gold-plated chest piece and gold-horned helmets caught her attention immediately. As her eyes traveled down she noticed that their privates were wrapped in a waist cloth and covered with a metal guard as well. Guess these creatures weren’t a fan of the nude, unlike her other captor.She saw that their faces were stoic, expressionless. She could tell they were communicating with her companion, but her ears picked up no noise. She could only guess at their communication based on the foreign movements of the creature’s mouths. Although she did not know the context, she could easily tell that the conversation was not going well. Her lover’s face was a mask of fury.

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

It’s Ron’s first shift. He can’t believe his luck. A couple on the rear camera. She’s got her top up and her pink shorts round her knees. Burdur Escort The guy gropes her tits, then she Burdur Escort Bayan gets down on her knees, Escort Burdur pulls his hard cock out, and sucks it. Ron’s cock is hard too, so he gets it out and rubs it. He rubs harder as the girl leans against the wall, kicks off her shorts, and they fuck vigorously. Ron ejaculates copiously across the table. Sadly, he hasn’t noticed the security camera in his own office. He’ll find out tomorrow though.

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

The Present… Sunday Evening…My feet were dragging as I tiredly dragged my rolling suitcase towards my apartment building. My two day French Maid Marathon was blessedly over. My boobs were swollen from poker players feeling me up ‘for luck’ as I brought sandwiches and drinks to their table. My pussy was sore because as players lost their buy-in and dropped out of the game, they stated looking for other entertainment. I was that other entertainment.Having swollen boobs and a sore pussy wasn’t what made me struggle to pull my suitcase up the outside steps to enter my building. No, it was lack of sleep that made me have to try three times before I got my key into my door’s lock. Once inside I dragged the suitcase to my bedroom and collapsed across the bed. My shins and feet were hanging off the bed and I toed my shoes off.Muscles relaxed. I knew I should get up. I needed food. I needed a shower. I was dying for a long, hot soak in my tub. I needed the strength to accomplish all the things on my list. I was about to drift off to sleep when a loud knocking on my apartment’s door roused me. Go away, I muttered into my bed’s blanket. The knocking stopped, then began again even louder. Only one person can be this aggravating, I groused as I got off the bed. Asshole must have heard my suitcase being rolled across his ceiling. The knocking began a third time just before I threw open the door.”What…,” I began, then couldn’t finish my question as Danny grabbed me up in an enthusiastic hug. “I. Can’t. Breathe…” I managed after several seconds.”Sorry. Sorry, I’m just so glad you’re okay,” Danny said as his arms released me. Hands gripped my forearms to steady me as I stumbled backwards. “I was calling and calling all weekend. I got worried when you didn’t call back.””Of course, I’m okay. You knew I’d be gone for the weekend.”Danny’s hands still holding my arms began to shake me. “And you couldn’t stop fucking long enough to return one damned phone call!?””Stop shaking me,” I demanded, wrenching my arms out of his grasp. “And yell a little louder! I’m sure there’s at least one person on the First Floor who doesn’t think I’m a slut now,” I continued hotly, closing my door. “I didn’t return your damned phone calls because I didn’t know you were calling. All our phones were locked up in a metal box. Jesus, Danny! There was almost four million in cash there. No phone calls were allowed and no one could leave until the game was over.”Danny took a long breath and let it out. “Okay. Okay. Okay, I guess I over-reacted.”I smacked his forehead with the palm of my hand, “DUH! Ya think?”Danny held up his hands defensively, “Look, can we sit down? I have something you need to read.”I led the way and Danny sat on the couch. I sat in the chair. I was mad and didn’t want to sit next to him. “Knowing Bodrum Escort you’d be gone this weekend, I decided to do some research on getting our money…””Did you find a way,” I interrupted to ask hopefully.”No. I started by looking into the law firm your, ahh, client worked at. Do you remember a Ms. Phillips?””Sure. She was kind’a the receptionist for the firm and Tim’s secretary.”Danny handed me a folded paper. “Not anymore,” he said as I began to read what appeared to be a copier print-out of a newspaper article.”She’s missing?” The gist of the story was lacking in details. Ms. Phillips lived alone. When she didn’t show up to work for two days and wasn’t answering her phone, someone at Tim’s firm had called the police. The police had found signs of a struggle in Ms. Phillips’ apartment. She was still missing and the police, ‘suspect foul play.’Danny handed me another paper. “A partner at the firm is missing, too. His wife said he left for work, nothing out of the ordinary, he just never arrived at work. The police haven’t even found his car.””Sounds like someone is looking for the money Tim stole,” I said.”DUH! Ya think?” Danny probably would have slapped my forehead if I’d been in easy reach. “Now do you know why I was worried all the time you were out having fun?””Fun? You think staying awake for almost fifty hours now… Being felt up ‘for luck’ while giving lap dances was fun? Jesus, Danny,” I shouted, mad as hell now. “You’ll never understand that what I do is just as much a job as what you do and…”I would have gone on in my rant except Danny was suddenly on his feet, pulling me up into another tight hug and kissing me. It was like something from a bad 1950s film noir movie. It didn’t help that, just like the girl in that bad 1950s movie, after a few seconds I was returning the kiss with enthusiasm. When Danny broke our kiss, his arms remained around me. I sighed and rested my head on his shoulder.”Did we just make up,” Danny asked.”I think so,” I whispered. “But I’m so tired I might still have some mad in me I just don’t have the energy to let out.” I sighed again and leaned into Danny more. “I’m dead tired and my period is gonna start soon. Raincheck on the make-up sex?””Okay.” Danny’s arms tightened and then I heard him sniff. “Have you been smoking?””Just lighting cigars while trying not to inhale. Though there was so much second-hand smoke in the room I may as well have. I was trying to muster the energy to shower and wash my hair when you started pounding on my door.”Given a task he could help me do, Danny led me to my bathroom. He ran the water to get it the right temperature while I undressed. When I said I needed food more than a shower, Danny shoved me under the spray with the promise to find me food. A few minutes later Bodrum Escort Bayan he was staring at me through the foggy glass of the stall. “Olivia! You have no food! How can anyone have no food? You only have three bottles of beer, a jar of mayonnaise and a carton of milk that smells sour in your refrigerator. That and boxes of Pop Tarts in your cabinet are all you have! What the hell do you eat?”Damn! No milk for my coffee in the morning… “I get a lot of takeout from the Chinese place down the street,” I replied in defense of my diet. “And my mom always has leftovers I can steal.”Danny shook his head and left muttering he’d order a pizza. “Extra onions,” I called out and added, “And ask if the delivery guy can bring some milk, too.” I liked onions but I was usually careful about onion breath. But only Danny was here tonight and he didn’t count. The pizza arrived as I was filling my tub with hot water for a soak. When I invited Danny to join me for a bubble bath, he readily agreed that the pizza could wait.Soon I was lounging in my oversized tub between Danny’s legs. Reclining back on his chest, there was a hard cock pressed into my back. But Danny didn’t make any sexual overtures. I think I fell asleep while he massaged my shoulders. At least, I remember little before Danny was helping me stand up from the now cool water. While in the shower to rinse off the bubbles, there was still a hard cock and a few kisses but nothing beyond that.Dried off, I wore my smaller bathrobe while Danny wore my larger house robe. Sitting on the floor around my coffee table, we drank beer and ate pizza. Danny later claimed I fell asleep with pizza crust in my mouth. Maybe I did because the next thing I remember clearly was the alarm clock next to my bed…The Present… Monday Morning…I heard Danny slap my alarm off as he rolled away from me. I grumped because his warmth was gone, leaving me under suddenly cold sheets. Raising my head, I watched as he sat on the edge of the bed and stretched out back and shoulder muscles. Very nice muscles, I thought as I reached to grab his arm to pull him back under the covers.”Don’t tempt me, Olivia,” he said as he stood and easily slipped from my grasp. “I need to get ready for work.””Screw work,” I grumped. “We’re millionaires.””Not yet we are. If I start missing work my dad will find out and want to know why.””But it’s the middle of the night,” I complained while waving my hand at my still, mostly, dark bedroom.”No, it’s not,” Danny replied while pulling on his jeans. “The sun is almost all the way up.”To me? Dawn was the middle of the night! I’m not a morning person. Danny, however, was. Growing up on a working farm had given him the detestable habit of waking up bright-eyed-and-bushy-tailed at ungodly hours. Listening Escort Bodrum to Danny close my bathroom door and…, I sighed. All hope of going back to sleep was dashed. Now, I needed to pee.When Danny reappeared, Did you lower the seat?, turned and then reappeared again, I swung my legs out to put my feet on the cold floor. “Make me coffee before you leave for your apartment,” I grumped. “And turn my thermostat back up!”Danny complained that my apartment was always too warm. He’d sneak and turn the temperature down when I wasn’t watching. Danny left mumbling something about, “Turn the temp up. Make me coffee. Put the seat down. Worse than my mom!”Peeing, I saw that my inner thighs and outer lips were pinkish. My time-of-the-month had truly begun. I cleaned, inserted a tampon, and checked my bed sheets. No spots. Going to sleep while my hair was wet had my hair tangled into a rat’s nest. I tried to finger-comb some order into my hair but it was beyond help. In panties, bra, and the blouse I’d wear today, I joined Danny in the kitchen just as the last of the coffee gurgled into the pot. I grabbed a piece of pizza we hadn’t eaten last night from the box and munched while sipping coffee. Cold pizza and hot coffee. The Breakfast of Champions…Danny looked pointedly at my flat stomach and shook his head. “How? How do you stay so skinny,” he asked. “I’ve never seen you exercise and you eat like a frat boy. Nothing but junk food and snacks!””I prefer to think of myself as slender. Not skinny,” I said to set the record straight and shrugged. “It’s just something I inherited from my Dad. He’s forty and can still eat anything and not gain a pound. Drives my Mom crazy.”Danny rinsed his cup out and pulled his keys from his pocket. Waiting until I’d finished chewing a tough piece of crust, he leaned in for a short, but nice kiss. “I’ll be ready in a few minutes,” I told him. “I’ve got things to do today. Wait for me and I’ll go to your work first and boost your rep with your co-workers.”Danny agreed to wait and left for his apartment. It took me only a short time to dress. Pulling my hair into a ponytail, I joined Danny. Somehow, as I was pulling the door to his apartment closed, I forgot to lock it… Go figure.Boosting Danny’s rep with a few kisses didn’t take long. I did have something I wanted to get over early. Marla required a clean STD test every month. I scheduled my monthly visits to a clinic while on my ‘menstrual vacations’. I made the phone calls I needed to make while at the clinic. Back at my apartment building I went to Danny’s place and let myself in. Thirty minutes later the men I’d called arrived…The Present… Monday Evening…The chili I’d dumped from several cans was simmering in a large pot I’d just bought today. The cans were thrown away. It wasn’t homemade but I could honestly tell Danny it was home-cooked since I was cooking it on my stove. With a handful of chili powder tossed in it was just like homemade anyway. I liked my chili with Chili Cheese corn chips. But I had regular crackers for the unsophisticated palates.

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Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
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After Amy and I had our airing out, we watched a couple additional peep shows. Amy picked out some sex toys; a small vibrator and a black, realistic  cock. I asked Amy what she had something in mind that included me. She said that would be a surprise.The look on my face caused her to smile and she reassured me that I would enjoy it. Well, that narrowed things down, but I don’t think I would do some of the things she did.Amy drove us home and I asked her how she knew about the adult video store.Amy replied, “Don’t be silly, Dear. I haven’t forgotten the time we went inside. Besides, I’ve been wanting to return, especially after those nights we went to the casinos.”We finished the night in our bed, not letting an opportunity pass. I used the vibrators as I licked Amy’s clit and she loved it. She sucked on the toy black cock and seemed to enjoy it. Taking advantage of her, I fed her my cock and she seemed to want to suck the life out of me.A few weeks passed, and our sex life hadn’t changed any. My perceptions of Amy going off too far with her sex life were relieved. Or was she playing the game at a higher level?I once read that a woman’s sexual peak was between thirty years of age to about forty or fifty. But what do I know? I know Amy is good about keeping secrets because she’s her company’s regional resource manager.I had to travel on a Monday. Amy laughed and said I had nothing to worry about. Amy insisted our first trip, she would only have sex outside of our marriage in cities or places we didn’t know people.Yet, she had two guys from a nearby college. She assured me that the four escapades with the others were fulfilling sexual fantasies and nothing more.”It was only sex,” she said.And that was Bolu Escort the end of that, according to her.I didn’t tell her about the pictures.That evening, at the hotel, after chatting with Amy, I signed onto that adult dating site. On the sign-on screen, there was a new member advertisement. I created a new profile and got right on it.I created my new identity as a younger male, aged thirty-three, and living about fifty miles from our city. Then, I found some generic guy’s picture online and used it as my profile photo. I believe this practice has a name, but who cares? I’d guess that many profiles are fakes anyway.After I set up the account, I searched for Amy’s profile. She didn’t have a picture profile in our local area. I thought I saw one or two profiles without pictures, that could have been hers. Both of them had not been used in a few months.Next, I checked a couple of nearby cities. In one city about ninety miles away, was a profile with Amy’s picture. It was an older picture and she looked a bit different. I figured it was a picture she hated but kept anyway. She wasn’t online and I took note of her user name. I checked her profile out.She wrote she was married and listed a few of her interests, among those were traveling and reading. I looked at her list of friends and a few men were on it, some couples from other cities, and some women on her list, also. But none of her friends lived nearby, according to their profiles. I decided to hang around to see if Amy signed on while I was away from home.I became bored after about twenty minutes, so I went to take a shower to pass a bit of time.When I returned, I checked for Amy and saw she was online. I went to the chat room which Bolu Escort Bayan is locale to my location, but she wasn’t there. After a few minutes, I became bored with looking at profiles of the people in the chatroom.I moved to a section that had blogs, while I checked for Amy’s whereabouts. She remained online, but not on the chat room list. The site included private messaging, and it was possible that she was chatting in that venue. I went back to the chat room. A few minutes later, I noticed Amy entered the chat room.I sent her a private message, and after about a minute, I didn’t get a response, so I closed it. As I waited, I assumed Amy was in a private message with someone, but it wasn’t possible to know if she was chatting, or who it could be with. The profiles and usernames varied between men, women, and couples. She could be having a conversation with anyone.A box popped up on my screen and it was Amy, saying hello. I responded in kind and began a bit of conversation. She admitted to being married and hanging out on the site, not looking for anything.I asked Amy about places she went to and which ones were her favorite. She mentioned going to several places for vacations, but Key West and New Orleans were her favorites.”What was it about those places that you liked about them?” I typed. Amy responded that she and her husband had a good time and she had a few surprises.When I asked her what those surprises were, she responded, “Sex.”I couldn’t get her to elaborate much about her answer, but she admitted she and her husband enjoyed the Key West surprise, while the New Orleans surprise was interesting.We chatted a bit longer, then Amy said she had to sign off. I asked Escort Bolu her for a friend request and she sent it.Imagine this: I’m using an alias, I became online friends with my wife, and we’re on an adult dating site. I suppose it happens.The next night, I signed on and I saw Amy wasn’t online. I called her, but she didn’t answer, but she called back a few minutes later, saying she was in the shower. As we chatted, I watched to see if she would sign on.Later, I began to nod off when I heard my computer ding. It was Amy sending me a private message. “Hi, what’s going on?” she wrote.”I forgot that I was signed on,” I lied. Amy typed she didn’t mean to disturb me.I quickly responded, “No problem, what’s going on?”Amy responded that she was bored and her husband was away for a second night. I asked if he traveled often.She said, “No, and that was fine that he didn’t.””Did you ever mess around while he was away?” I typed.”No, I have opportunities, but I haven’t.” Amy typed. I wondered if Amy was onto me.”Would he get upset about you being online chatting?” I typed.”No, he knows about it,” she replied.Yes, I do.Then I asked Amy if her husband knew her screen name.She replied, “No, he doesn’t use online chats.”Right.I asked Amy if she would tell me why she said the surprise in New Orleans was interesting. “It figures you would remember that!” Amy replied, with a smiling face emoji.”Well?” I typed back, adding a winking emoji.I could see she was typing something, then stop, then she began typing again.Then her message came: “We went to a nightclub and I had a good time dancing with another guy. My husband didn’t mind. He seemed to be tired and I was not ready to turn in. The guy I was dancing with mentioned he could escort me back to the hotel.”I was a bit surprised. Amy had an eye for this guy at the hotel. But, this is an online chat, so sometimes the truth can be fiction.”Did your husband say OK and did the guy bring you back to your hotel?” I asked.

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

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After being drug through the mud by Mother, the rough part of the day was over.  Paul and I went over the order form for Tuesday’s delivery.  A few customers perused the shop, and I did make a couple of sales.  All in all, a good day.  We were closing for the day and just wanted to shower and have a cold beer.When we got to the apartment, as always, Paul the gentleman said I should have first dibs on the shower.  He said he would be the culinary expert tonight and reheat the Italian order from the other night.  Microwave Magic.  Good enough for me.“Claudia, I am happier than I’ve ever been.  Today was rough on you.  One of these days, your Mom is going to find out about us.  I hate that you have to go through that.  You have been nothing but nice to her.”“How bored do you want to be tonight?  I have told you, Mother and I got along as long as it took to cut the umbilical cord.  I don’t know why.  Even Daddy has told me, he doesn’t understand.  You are the best thing that has ever happened to me, Paul.”“I feel the same way about you.  But how can we calm your Momma down?  If she is going to act like this, I can’t call her Mother.  She acts like a mother, but not a mom.  I just don’t like it.  She needs to see how wonderful her daughter has become.  Don’t tell me she wanted a boy.”“Paul, I don’t think she ever wanted children.  Maybe Daddy got her drunk one night and got her knocked up.  I don’t know.  She makes me feel like shit.”“You ARE NOT shit, Claudia.  You are a loving and caring woman.  I’ve seen you put an arrangement on sale, for someone who didn’t have the money.  And don’t say you haven’t, because you’re blushing.  And if you are going to try to lie, I will have to spank you.  Hmmm, what an intriguing thought.”“I digress, YOU are a very good person, your Dad sees it, I see it, I know I’m in love with you, and the lady you gave the sale to knows it.  The important people in this goofy world know you are a good person. ““Thank you, Paul.  You are the best thing that ever happened to me.”The next few weeks went by without any negative incidents.  I had very good sales from the webpage and Paul got a nice freelance job for web design.  Tuesday was a coffee break day, and all was well.   The health inspector came by and gave us a 98.  Life was good.  Daddy stopped by and gave me more encouragement.  We were having a good conversation.  Then I asked the question.“Daddy, do you know Paul did the website while we were falling in love?  And Malatya Escort do you know, we are living together.  And I can’t help that I fell in love with him.  He treats me wonderfully, helps in the shop, has a web designer job on the side, and damn it, Daddy, I love him and he treats me good, Daddy.”  Claudia starts to sob.“Come here, Miss Claudia Thomas.  You always were headstrong and wanted to make it on your own.  Your Mother doesn’t understand that.  Why?  Because she is selfish.  You two rub against each other because you’re not like that.  But I am grateful, you have some of me in you.  That’s why Claudia’s is successful.  You have met a man who is by your side.  I didn’t like George at all.  He was a panty waste.  Useful as tits on a bullfrog.  Can I make one other observation that your Mother missed?”“Yes, Daddy.”“Please tell Paul for me, he is one hell of an actor.  More important than that.  He came to the aid of my daughter.  Paul is a man of strong will and character.  But please don’t tell him, he’s a lousy actor.”   “It’s okay Claudia, I heard him,” Paul yelled from the back room.Paul came to the front counter.  “Mr. Thomas, there is nothing I would not do for Claudia.  I would take a bullet for her.  I will do everything to protect her.  I love Claudia very much.”“Paul, I knew that when came popping in the front door the other day.  Only a real man would go up against his lady’s parents and protect her good nature the way you did.  I will say this, and I am not pushing a thing, if you ever come to my door asking for her hand, you will not be turned away.  I know you will take the same vows seriously if that day ever comes.  You are a good man, Paull Jacobs.  I know my only daughter is in good hands.”“You honor me, Sir.  I will never let you or Claudia down.”  Paul and Daddy shook hands.  They both knew that was their solemn bond.Daddy was walking out the door and was holding it for a lady.  When she passed him, Daddy curled his lip.  He didn’t like her.  She walked into the shop and meandered about.  She had the haughty air of a Mrs. Smythe – Smythe.  A real stuffed shirt.  Paul went to greet her.“Good afternoon, Madam, how can we be of service?”“Get away from me.  I want to see the proprietor.  Not the help.”“Yes, Madam, I will get Miss Thomas for you.”“Claudia” Paul warned, “this woman is a plant.  Whatever you do, do not overextend yourself. I am here no matter what we have to do.  Don’t be bullied.”“Good Malatya Escort Bayan afternoon, Madam, I am Miss Thomas.  With whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?”“My name is Mrs. Worthington – Summers, Mrs. Thomas Worthington – Summers.  I require floral arrangements for a garden party.  Only the most influential will be in attendance.   I have done customs with other businesses, only to be disappointed.  What makes your establishment any different than other small shops?”  “I will deliver what you want.  Mrs. Worthington -Summers, I am not like other shops you have dealt with.  I am not A shop.  I am THE shop.  I don’t shy away from your elite class.  I enhance it.  I do that from a different perspective.  If I decide to do business with you, you will not be disappointed.  Mind you, my craft is not cheap.  I expect you to meet my expectations.”“For a young business, you are quite an upstart.”“On the contrary, I am a professional florist.  You have a choice, you can deal with your custom here, with a professional florist, or take a chance down the road with a flower shop.  The choice is yours, Madam.”“I will allow you the chance to service my gathering.”“I have not said I am willing to render my services.  You have not met my expectations.”“Well, what are your expectations?”“I need to know the reason for the gathering.  I need to know how many will be in attendance, not how many say they will attend.  I need to know the time of day, and I demand seventy-two hours if you decide to change your mind.  I will write the contract now and you can sign it.”“I will have my lawyer view it before signing.”“Then good day Madam.  I do not do business with legal beagles.  My contract is simple.  If you approve of my service, you will pay the price.  You pay nothing if you do not approve, and the disapproval is valid.  Now.  Good Day.”I left Mrs. Worthington – Summers to swallow that bullshit.  I’m calling Daddy.“Hey Daddy, how are you?”“I’ve been expecting your call.  The answer is – yes, she did.  I am considering divorce. Seriously.”“What should I do, Daddy?  Mrs. WS is a big-time elite.  She can ruin me.”“Baby, no she can’t.  Only you can ruin yourself.  Have you talked to Paul?  Get his input and then kick ass like only a Thomas can kick ass.”“Paul?”“Yes, Baby I heard.  I heard you and Mrs. Stuffed Shirt and I heard you and your Daddy.”I sat Claudia down on a stool. “Baby, this is your time.  Don’t kiss Escort Malatya her ass, Kick it.  That goes for Mrs. Worthing-Summers and your Mother. You are a professional florist.  You’re not the local grocer’s flower shop.  You ARE Claudia’s Cards and Candles.  Let’s kick some snub-nosed ass.”The day of the event finally arrived.  My backup Paul and Dave were right there with me.   The event was to begin at eleven, we were there at nine forty-five.  We started with the tables.  We wanted to leave the head table for last.  Each arrangement was set four feet from the other starting at the middle of the table.  It is now ten thirty.Paul and I unrolled the linen cloth onto the main table.  When it was perfectly centered and pulled tight. Paul and Dave brought the arrangements.  We started with the main arrangement in the center of the table and spaced the rest accordingly.  Everything looked perfect.  Dave had to leave, so I kissed him on the cheek and Paul gave him a handshake that would last forever.The bell of the Church tower struck the first of eleven strikes.  We took a photo of each table and arrangement.  We left nothing to chance that Mrs. Stuffed–Shirt would pull a fast one and not pay.  The elite began their grand entrance.  Paul and I left.It was Wednesday before the verdict came in.  Mrs. Worthington – Summers followed by her kiss-ass plebeian, my Mother.   They approached the counter somewhat apprehensively.  Paul can be such a smart-ass with a smile of a Cherub.“Good afternoon, dear Ladies, how can I be of service?”My Mother spoke, “We want to see my daughter.”“Yes, Ma’am.  I will see if the owner is available.”  Paul responded in a sarcastic tone.Paul came to the back room and told me they were there.“I know I heard you.  You are such a shithead, no wonder I love you so much.”I walked to the front counter and addressed the two women.“Good afternoon, Madam, and Mother.  I hope our hard work was met with approval from your lady friends.”Mother spewed, “I thought the arrangements were sparse.  No imagination.  Lackluster.”Mrs. WS interrupted Mommy’s snide comments. “On the contrary.  The ladies were very pleased with the simplicity of your arrangements.  Unlike other florists, no insult intended, the flowers did not droop or dry out during the event.  Some of the ladies took them home.  Your hard work made for a wonderful afternoon.”As agreed, here is my check for your services, and please accept a second check for outstanding service.  The ladies voted on this almost unanimously.”  Mrs. WS gave a stern look toward Mother. “Madam, I am at your service whenever it is needed.  Please accept my gratitude from me and my humble staff.  And if you would be so kind, accept this small arrangement to show my gratitude.”

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

“Okay Mr Grayson, so it’s £20 if you want me to pull my top down.”“Do you like them? It’s another ten to touch.”“Okay, you can Mersin Escort show me yours.”“Oh gosh, Mersin Escort Bayan it’s big. Escort Mersin Rub it against my boobs? I guess that’s another twenty.”“Go on, you can put it between them.”“Oh God no, Mr Grayson! I didn’t say you could cum on them. Now I’m covered in it. What a mess.”“Lick it off? I suppose so. But that’s another fifty.”“You haven’t got that much cash? Don’t worry, I’ve got my own card reader. Just tap here.”

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