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He was in the kitchen when he peeked again, closer this time than when he’d peered down from his bedroom. One hand clutched a glass, the other the faucet handle; he might need an excuse for hovering by the window. Besides, it helped steady him.

This wasn’t the same hyper little squirt he remembered. Until a moment ago he still pictured her with Kool Aid-stained lips, splashing awkwardly about his pool. His most vivid memory of her was when he caught her pulling the fabric of her bathing suit into simulated breasts, all the while shrieking “I’m Madonna, I’m Madonna!” to the hysteria of her playmates.

Trish had called about a month ago to reintroduce herself. She’d grown up down the street but moved away several years ago when her parents separated. The ‘rents had recently patched things up, and she was staying with them over summer vacation. She was working nights and wondered if she might use his pool now and then while he was at work. Since then she’d spent most weekdays working on her tan. This was the first day he hadn’t gone to the office, so their paths had not crossed before today. She wouldn’t have known that he was home.

Can you call tits “profound”? Somehow that word popped into his mind. The way they spilled out of her top and practically levitated: profound. Her stomach, with it’s little “innie” bellybutton cupping a small puddle of oil, was flat but still fleshy enough for him to imagine its give under his touch. The legs were long and graceful, yet athletic and powerful, like a dancer’s. The severity of her bangs (not so much Bettie gümüşhane escort Page as Veronica from the Archie comic strip) was in sharp contrast to her still girlish face. It was as though she was trying to force her features to catch up to her body’s maturity.

She reached for the thermos resting by her towel, tipped it back, then tossed the container to the ground. Trish rose to her feet, teetering just enough for Mr. Adler to realize it wasn’t water she’d just guzzled. She stepped gingerly to his privacy wall (add her ass to the “profound” category), squatted, and hooked a thumb under her bikini fabric to pull it aside. He told himself it was indignation that urged him outside.

“AHEM!” Could he have uttered anything more hackneyed? Still, she jerked her head upward, wobbled, and fell back onto her profound ass. She tried to break her fall with both hands, which caused her bikini to snap back into place. A spurt of pee soiled the material before her instincts kicked in to stop the discharge. She sat frozen on the lawn, looking for a moment like the gangly kid he recalled. Her apologies tripped over one another: she thought he was at work…she couldn’t wait to walk home…if she’d known he was home she would have knocked…

“Is that any excuse for pissing all over my property like a stray dog?!” She sat in mortified silence. But then maybe she detected him trembling ever so slightly, or she discerned some activity in his trousers, or merely made the type of educated guess a gorgeous hatay escort woman can make about a man’s motives. When he bitingly asked, “are you quite done?” she smirked a little, and said that she wasn’t.

The fluid hissed out of her bald cunt and slithered through the tightly cropped blades of grass, forming a puddle between his feet. He didn’t flinch when it backed up against his shoes like water against a dam. Sick old pervert. “Ooh, I’m a mess Mr. Adler. Can I clean up inside?” She didn’t wait for an answer and sauntered through the door, thinking how it was going to be fun to toy with this seedy bastard.

“How about fixing a drink, something ice cold?” He heard the shower running as he obediently headed to the kitchen. He had just finished making gin and tonics when she padded in, wrapped in a small towel, dripping all over his pristine floor. He fancied that he appeared calm and composed. He looked to her like a petrified little boy. The tables had definitely turned in her favor.

They drank silently, the AC blasting. Its chill hardened her nipples beneath the terry cloth, and raised goose bumps across his flesh. She saucily let the towel fall to the floor and perched on a tall stool. Her foot, resolutely placed on his chest, stopped his advance. She giggled, spun her back to him and stretched lazily. He shook as he told her she had the most perfect ass he’d ever seen.

“I know. Why don’t you kiss it?” As he worshipped her young, perfect, profound ass, she confronted him. “You liked ısparta escort watching me pee. Why is that?” He launched into a long-winded, overly rationalized explanation that made him sound like a Dr. Ruth wannabe. It bored her. It was enough to know for certain that he liked it.

“Well I have to go again,” she interrupted. He began to remind her where the bathroom was when the first drops began to trickle down one leg, tickling her thigh. He watched in fascination as the trail wound its way to her manicured red toenails. Just then the first full blast jetted out, falling short of its mark, and splashing on his sterile tile floor. The next burst reached the target, drenching his neck and chest, finally hitting him flush in the face. Again that bratty giggle: “I’m just so clumsy! Look what I’ve done now!”

She clamped tight to interrupt the flow. “Open wide,” she commanded. In contrast to the cool tile on his knees and the icy temperature of the house, her piss burned his tongue. It seared his throat like whiskey. He risked stinging his eyes as he watched the whole intense scene. Her hands were placed arrogantly on her hips as she gazed down at him with a mixture of amazement and condescension. “This is just too easy,” she thought. She loved this feeling of absolute power; it was so addictive, so easy to abuse. Anyone who’d fall to his knees and drink her hot piss was hers for the taking. She forbade him to wipe his face, and commanded him to strip.

The scene drove her mad with arousal, but of course she couldn’t let him touch her lovely little clit. She fingered herself as he licked her leg clean. She came powerfully at the sight of him drinking her now cool piss off of the floor. Then without a word she stepped over him, fetched her things, and dressed. She gave him one last bratty looked and traipsed out the door.

The next morning he called in sick and waited by the kitchen window.

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This is the third story in the series, and a standalone story (for now). I’m looking for an animator to do a drawing of Tracy or perhaps even a short comic for a scene from one of the stories, so if anybody has any suggestions please let me know.

Your feedback/comments are always appreciated. Enjoy!

******

Tracy opened her eyes as the early morning rays streamed through the bedroom window. Stretching her arms upward, she winced in pain. Her breasts felt heavier than usual today under her oversized night shirt. Lifting one breast in her hand, she hefted its weight.

I can’t wait until I can chop these damn things off and just have a nice, normal pair of C cups. Why does weaning have to hurt this bad?

She stood and walked to the floor mirror to examine herself. Pulling the shirt above her head and standing in only her panties, she gasped at what she saw.

Just below her long blonde hair, her tits seemed to come out a foot past her chest. The previously pale, white skin of her boobs was now slightly reddish, criss-crossed with blue, spidery veins. Capping off her swollen bust was two knob-like nipples, tiny droplets of milk hanging off each one. Somehow, they retained their perkiness and stayed upright despite the extra weight.

But how could they get this bad? They hadn’t looked anything like this last night!

Now that little Jimmy was almost one year old, Tracy had decided to wean him off breastfeeding completely. Last night had been the first full night she had gone without a feeding or pumping session. Without the frequent “milking” sessions, she guessed that her production had continued and that the extra milk had simply backed up in her tits.

Damn it. Well, at least the Zumba is paying off! She smiled and lightly slapped her flat, toned tummy.

“Tracy? What the hell happened?”

Tracy turned to the bedroom door. Her husband Jim’s mouth hung open as he stood staring at her, a cup of coffee in each hand.

“The doctor said I can’t pump at all while I’m trying to wean. He says if I pump them too much, it could actually increase my production and make it even harder to stop lactating. So, I haven’t pumped at all in like a day.”

“Oh. Well, anyway, thought you could use some coffee. I figured we could leave here in about an hour or so?”

“Yeah…about that, Jim. I don’t think I can go today. It’s just that it’s a long drive out to the country, and I’d rather stay closer to home in case I have a, uh, milk situation happen. I was thinking that maybe we could just go to the aquarium or go out for lunch instead?”

“Don’t be ridiculous babe, you’ll be fine. Just take your pump with you and if you need to ease a little bit of pressure off, you can pump in the bathroom. Besides, some fresh country air will do us all some good.”

Jim’s right. We’ve been cooped up in the house way too much lately. Today’s actually a nice day, and it would be nice for us and the baby to all get some fresh air.

“You’re right. I can’t stop living my life just because of my big, stupid milky tits.” She shook her naked tits side to side, and the two shared a laugh as they began to get ready.

*******

“Ok, we’re here!”

The SUV pulled into the dirt parking lot. Next to the lot stood a giant wooden sign “Bessie the Cow welcomes you to COOPERSON DAIRY FARMS!”, with a picture of a smiling, cartoon black-and-white cow.

The farm was spread out over several acres of a grassy lot. The parking lot was about a five minute walk from the visitor center, where patrons could sample fresh dairy products, such as cheese curds and milk shakes, and pick up souvenirs. Next to the visitor center was the main barn where the dairy cows were kept and milked. Scattered over the farm were various attractions, such as a pig pen and a petting zoo.

Tracy sat nervously fidgeting in the passenger seat of the car. Back at the house, her attempts at putting a nursing bra over her swollen tits had failed, so she was forced to wear nothing but nursing pads under her shirt. The only shirt that fit over her boobs was a blue scoop neck T-shirt, which revealed a healthy amount of cleavage.

Jim got out of the driver’s seat and began to unpack the stroller from the back seat. After a moment of hesitation, Tracy joined him.

“Ah! Smell that fresh country air, Trace?”

“Smells like manure to me…Babe, I don’t think I can do this. Look at the way I’m dressed. I look ridiculous!”

Jim eyed his wife up and down. Aside from how obvious it was she wasn’t wearing a bra under her tight blue shirt, he thought she looked very attractive. Her straight blonde hair was pulled back into a neat ponytail. A tight pair of jeans was practically molded around her plump round ass and showed off her shapely legs.

“Honey, you look fine. In case you haven’t noticed, we’re at a farm, not at a soiree. Just relax, nobody cares how you’re dressed. Do me a favor, go to the other side of the back seat and grab the diaper bag while I get this little guy ready.”

Tracy izmir escort rolled her eyes and walked to the other side of the car. The diaper bag had slid under the seat. Bending over to reach it, she froze as she heard a whistling noise in her direction.

“Damn girl! Baby got back!” She turned her head and saw two tall, lanky young men laughing at her. They appeared to be identical twins, both dressed in dirty, oversized T-shirts and jeans. They each sported a messy mop of greasy dark hair and a farmers tan. Looking at them, she thought they were poor country folk.

She backed out of the car and turned behind her, hands on her hips. “Hey, back off creeps!”

“Holy hell! Look at the size of those milkers!”

Tracy gasped and quickly folded her arms across her chest. The two laughed, and were quickly interrupted by a yell from behind them.

“Jerry! Terry! You’re both eighteen now, you ought to know better. Now you two leave that poor woman alone and come give me a hand with the little ‘uns!” Tracy looked past the twins and saw a woman shouting from the window of a dirty old Ford truck. Tracy coughed as she got a whiff of diesel fumes. The truck engine wound down, and the woman exited the passenger’s side holding two small babies in her arms.

No car seats? Great…

“Yeah come over here boys! We don’t want to miss out on the free tour day, now. I hear they’re gonna give us free samples and everything!” A burly man in overalls got out of the driver’s side of the truck.

Free tour day? So THAT’S why Jim wanted to come here. Ugh, cheap bastard…

“Yes, sir! Well, we’ll be seeing you…” Jerry pointed at her breasts “and THEM, real soon I’m sure.” The twins laughed as they walked back over to “Mama” and “Papa” by the truck. Seconds later, Jim walked over to Tracy.

“Who was that?”

“Nobody, just a couple stupid hicks, let’s just go.”

Jim and Tracy finished setting up the stroller and were walking on their way to the visitor center, with little Jimmy in tow. Just as they were almost out of earshot of the family, Tracy heard a faint baby cry coming from the parking lot. She tried to ignore it and focus on the building in front of her. As the crying continued, she felt her maternal instincts kick in and she stopped Jim.

“Honey, I think those people need help.”

“They’re fine, babe. Don’t worry about them.”

“You saw them, Jim. They’re obviously very poor. I mean look at them, they looked like they haven’t showered in a week.”

“Tracy, this isn’t one of the church’s volunteer events. You can’t just go and help random strangers. It’s demeaning. Plus, those guys were harassing you, so just forget it. They can handle things themselves.”

“Well it’s not the baby’s fault, Jim! Look, I’m going over there to see if I can help. You and Jimmy go ahead and I’ll meet you inside. Don’t worry, the FREE tour isn’t going anywhere.”

“Yeah, whatever. Take your time.” Jim pushed the stroller and continued walking to the visitor center. Tracy jogged her way back to the parking lot, her tits swinging up and down with each step.

******

Terry spotted the blonde coming their way, and shoved his brother on the shoulder to get his attention. Tracy was jogging, her massive unsupported tits swinging up and down in her T-shirt with every step. Mama, Papa, and the twins stood by the truck and stared at the woman. As Tracy approached, she noticed the two babies the woman was carrying were now crammed into an old stroller meant for a single baby.

She stopped in front of the family and caught her breath. “Excuse me ma’am, I heard your babies crying. And, well, I was wondering if there was anything I can do to help?”

The mom’s face lit up. “Oh, bless you child! Yes, I’m afraid they haven’t eaten all day and they’re quite hungry. Do you think you can give them a snack?”

“Sure! Wait right here.” Tracy jogged over and unlocked her car. Sifting through the contents of the back seat, she retrieved a bag of goldfish and returned to the family.

The peppy blonde, a beaming smile on her face, held out the bag in front of the mom “Here you go. This should tide over the little guys.”

Without taking the bag, the woman looked at the bag and frowned. “Oh no dear, I’m afraid they’re much too young for solid food. I noticed you had a baby and all, and well, I was hoping you could give them something else?” The woman pointed at Tracy’s breasts.

Tracy looked down at her shirt and noticed two dark spots forming. Hearing those babies cry must have triggered her milk letdown! Blushing, she started stammering “Oh! Well I, uhm, I don’t know if uh…”

As the crying continued, she suddenly became aware of the painful pressure in her breasts. Well, I need to pump a little bit anyway to ease some of the pressure. Why not pump some and help those who need it at the same time? Plus, there’s nothing wrong with donating milk. People do it all the time!

A smile reappeared kahramanmaraş escort on Tracy’s face. “I see. I think I can help, wait right here while I go get my pump. It’s back with my husband.”

“Pump? Oh no, you don’t need that dear. I think you have everything you need right there already.”

Tracy stared at her confused for a moment, and then blushed as she realized what the woman was asking of her. “Ohhh. Umm, yeah, I really don’t feel comfortable doing that. Really, it will just take a minute…”

As she turned to head toward the visitor center, the twins quickly came up on either side of her and grabbed her arms.

“Hey! Let go of me!”

“You heard mama now, you best not disobey.”

Terry grabbed the bottom of Tracy’s shirt, and pulled it up above her tits. Her giant breasts swung out in the open, areolas peeking from around her nursing pads. The twins dragged the struggling woman and stood her directly in front of the stroller.

“Well, let’s see what we’re dealing with here now…”

Terry ripped each nursing pad off, freeing her nipples. “I think these will do just nicely.”

Hearing footsteps behind her, Tracy turned her head to see Mama approaching her from behind.

“Look, please don’t do this! I already said you could have some milk! This is completely unnecessary!”

“Well true, but you know what they say and all, breast is best! Boys, keep holding her arms.”

“Nooo! Please!”

Mama planted her hands on Tracy’s naked back, and pushed her tits-first into the stroller. After some resistance, Tracy slid forward as her breasts wedged themselves firmly in the plastic sides of the stroller.

“There we go! Perfect fit. We’ll just give you a few minutes to do your thing now.”

The twins let go of Tracy’s arms, who was now firmly locked into place and now powerless to move.

Tracy’s head leaned over the handlebar of the stroller as she stared at the ground. She suddenly became aware of two cold, wet noses bumping into the sides of her breasts. She tried to shake her tits and move them out of the way, but quickly realized it was pointless. She felt two warm, wet mouths enclose both her nipples, followed by a strong tugging sensation. The tiny mouths greedily began suckling at her engorged teats.

“They’re sucking my nipples! Please, get me out of this damn thing!”

Moments later, a very familiar sensation came over her. Oh no. Oh no. My milk is coming out! Tracy closed her eyes and gritted her teeth as she felt the backed up milk from her swollen breasts gush simultaneously from both her nipples. She silently cried as she was forced to endure the humiliating breastfeeding session.

Fifteen minutes later, Mama finally spoke up.

“Well, I think that ought to more than “tide them over”. Boys, give her a hand, why don’t you?”

The twins grabbed Tracy’s arms and pulled hard. With a PLOP sound, Tracy’s breasts were free. The top-heavy blonde immediately fell backwards onto the ground.

“Welp, thanks for helping us with the little ‘uns miss. See you at the tour!”

Tracy lay on the ground with her eyes closed panting heavily, her heaving breasts moving up and down with every breath. Her freshly suckled nipples were a dark shade of red. Thin streams of milk flowed from each nipple down her breasts onto the ground next to her.

After a couple minutes, the dazed blonde composed herself and brought her shirt back down over her giant tits, forgetting to replace the nursing pads.

******

In the visitor center, Tracy navigated her way through the shelves of souvenirs. Rather than feeling emptied, the breastfeeding session had actually triggered her milk production, and now she felt as engorged as ever. Desperate for relief, she hunted for Jim so that she could recover her breast pump. She finally found him looking through some keychains.

“Jim, I need the pump. Hey, where’s the farmer by the way?”

“He still hasn’t showed up yet. How did it go with the family from hell? You were gone a while.”

“Nothing. Uh, I mean it went ok. They needed a little, um, help with their babies.” Tracy folded her arms over her boobs in an attempt to cover her engorged nipples, which poked obscenely through her thin T-shirt.

“Yeah, I BET they did.” Jim glanced at her breasts.

“Whatever. Just give me the damn bag, I need to go pump.”

“What about the weaning? I thought you weren’t supposed to touch them.”

“Now suddenly you care? I’m the one who told you I didn’t want to come here in the first place. Anyway, where’s the bathroom?”

“No bathroom here for guests.”

Tracy winced and grabbed one breast. “I don’t think I can make it back to the car.”

“Just go to the barn next door, I’m sure you can find some private space over there.”

Tracy sighed and grabbed the bag, quickly making her way outside the visitor center.

******

The giant barn was a nondescript warehouse with manavgat escort a large open door at the front. The inside was essentially one giant room, each side lined with cow pens. In the center of the barn was a wooden platform on which stood “Bessie”, a full sized black-and-white replica cow used for demonstrations. A small ladder was on the side of the platform, which connected to an open hatch at the top of the cow.

Frustrated, Tracy scanned the barn for a private place in which she could pump.

There’s nowhere to pump! My tits feel like they’re going to burst if I don’t get some relief soon…

Moving her eyes to the replica cow, she noticed an open hatch at the top. Climbing the ladder and looking inside, she discovered the cow was completely hollow! Though dark, there would be ample room for her to sit inside and pump her breasts in private. As long as the hatch was open, there would be enough light to see what she was doing.

She carefully climbed in and sat cross-legged in the rubber interior. She scrunched her T-Shirt up above her breasts and took out her pump, struggling to fit the plastic flanges over her thick nipples. Just as she was getting ready to turn on the pump, she heard voices approaching. Thinking fast, she quickly closed the hatch of the cow, leaving her in complete darkness.

******

The crowd of roughly twenty people filed their way into the barn as the charismatic “Farmer Hank” led them inside. Hank was an older, bearded overweight gentleman wearing a checkered button-up shirt and a pair of jeans.

“Welcome to the barn folks! This here’s where we milk all the dairy cows. Now, most of the milk we produce here goes to grocery stores, schools, and the like, and of course to the visitor center to make the best darn milkshakes you’ve ever had in your life. Now, I’d like y’all to meet somebody real special. This here’s Bessie! Say hello to Bessie everybody!”

The crowd surrounded the fake cow and examined it, some taking pictures. One person raised their hand. “Hey how come the cow’s only got two udders? Isn’t it supposed to have four?”

The farmer chuckled. “Well, first off, we actually call those the “teats”. The udder is the big part. And by gosh you’re right! It looks like we forgot to get Bessie fully prepared for today’s demonstrations. Say, I could use some help here. Who here wants to give poor ol’ Farmer Hank a hand?”

Hands shot up from the crowd. Hank pointed at Terry and Jerry.

“You two handsome young gentlemen. Come on up here, now! Everybody else, go on outside to the horse pen. I’ll meet you there in a couple of minutes.”

The crowd shuffled out of the barn, leaving the twins and the farmer alone standing next to Bessie.

Hank pointed to the back of the barn. “Now, there’s a fridge in the back over there with a big plastic baggie full of milk. It’s got two teats on one end. Now if you look close at the udder on Bessie, you’ll see two holes for the missing teats. Get inside the cow and put the teats on the bag where the holes are. That way, Bessie will have a full set of four teats. Y’all boys think you can handle that?”

“Yes, sir!”

“Alright now, I’m going to take these people to see the horses. We’ll be back in a little while. I’m counting on you boys!” Farmer Hank left the barn, leaving the twins alone.

******

Tracy heard the voices dissipate, so she decided to resume pumping. Suddenly, the hatch opened and light poured onto Tracy’s face. Looking up through the hole, she saw the faces of one of the twins from before.

“Well, well, well, look who it is, Jerry.”

The other twin came up to see what was inside the cow.

“Holy shit! It’s the milky momma from the parking lot! What are you doing inside there gal?”

“Looks like she’s due for another breastfeeding session! I don’t know about you, but I’m starving!”

Before she had a chance to react, the twins climbed in and closed the hatch, leaving the three crowded together in complete darkness. She could only feel and hear what the twins were doing, with no way to anticipate their next moves.

“No! Stop!”

She felt the breast pumps ripped violently off her nipples. Seconds later, they were replaced by two greedy mouths hungrily sucking at her tits. The twins were sucking hard, mashing their entire faces into her pillowy boobs as they tugged up and down at her nipples.

“Stop it! Get off of me! Please, somebody help!” The cow was mostly soundproof, so it would be very difficult for anybody to hear her pleas, let alone anybody outside the barn.

A hand slid in the waistband of her jeans and panties and landed on her mound. Without warning, she felt two fingers jabbed inside of her.

“No, no not there! Please, please stop. Only my husband can touch me there!”

She felt the fingers slide back and forth in her tight passage as the intense suckling on her tits continued. To her horror, she felt herself get wet, her juices dripping down her leg. Her loud cries of protest turned into gentle moans. No longer resisting, her moans became louder and louder in volume.

She held the twins’ heads in her hands as she felt the onset of an orgasm. Sensing her impending climax, the twin with his two fingers inside her added a third, which was enough to set her off. She thrust hard against the fingers and quivered as an orgasm washed over here.

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The plane landed in Raleigh just after 6:00 PM and by the time Jay retrieved his luggage and made his way to the cab ranks, it was close to 7:00 PM. He called his mother-in-law, Nina, and she answered after just a few rings.

“Hi Jay. So, you just got in town? I wish I could pick you up, but I’m still in Statesville. It will probably be close to 9:00 before I’ll get home.”

“That’s OK, Nina. I’ll just grab a cab to your place. You haven’t changed door keys, have you?”

“No honey, it’s still the same. Do you have your key?”

“Yeah, so I’ll let myself in and see you when you get home. Do you want me to wait for you for supper? Or, maybe you can bring something home for us.”

“Sure, how would pizza do?”

“Just fine, Nina. So, I’ll hope to see you around 9:00.”

With a few more comments, Jay rang off and concentrated on finding a cab. Giving the cab driver the address, he settled back in the seat and relaxed for the trip to his mother-in-law’s apartment. It was about 30 minutes from the airport, in an older section of Raleigh.

Since her divorce, Nina had gradually made her way into the business world. She was very gifted when dealing with people and was constantly adding new customers to her list of businesses that sold ladies’ wear and accessories. Part of this success and ability to interact with new customers was the fact that she wore the articles of clothing and accessories that she sold. Her sense of style was very acute, and she stayed up to date on all latest styles.

Jay was only vaguely aware of the exact nature of Nina’s business. He just knew that she was making her own way as a middle aged woman, after being married for nearly twenty years to a complete jerk. While Earl Jennings was his wife’s father, he had met the man only a few times. His impression of Earl’s character was rather low, and probably influenced by his wife’s tendency to follow her dad’s lead in so many ways. At the present time, she was too involved in following her religious mentor and his wife all over the southeastern states, in their “fundraising” activities.

Whenever Jay attempted to offer helpful comments about the wisdom of this, Kelly would really shutdown any discussion, and silently accuse him of interfering with her calling.

Oh well, he had made repeated efforts to warn her, to help her realize that she was being used, all meeting with prolonged coldness and keeping him at arm’s length in their love life. He was thankful they had no children at this point in their five year marriage. He often thought about what the future held for them, and knew it was not promising.

The cab arrived at Nina’s apartment complex, which had only twenty units in a two story arrangement. Nina’s apartment was on the upper level, a one bedroom unit built in the 1980’s. It suited her needs and her budget, though, and she seldom had overnight company. In previous stays, Jay slept on the sofa, and if Kelly was along, she slept in Nina’s bed with her. It had been over a year since they had been there together, however.

He used his key and entered the apartment, putting his suitcase and weekend bag next to the sofa. It was stuffy in the apartment, and he turned on the air conditioning to make it more comfortable.

One of the problems with staying with Nina was the lack of privacy when cleaning up and changing into fresh clothes. The only bathroom was off Nina’s bedroom, which required each person to wait on the other when bathing and changing. Although he had to admit, Nina was very casual in dress around the apartment, and zonguldak escort encouraged others to be the same way. So, he was used to seeing Nina in her under clothes or night clothes.

It was a pleasant thought. After all, she was only about eleven years older than him, as it worked out. Plus, Nina was not a woman who was prudish about how she was perceived by others, especially in her own apartment. – – – Nina wished that she could finish the day and get home. It was important that she get this new customer though. It would be a foothold into the market in Statesville and the military personnel and their wives and girlfriends that made up much of the residential populace in the area. She was very savvy in locating promising customer bases for her products. Margo, the lady who had trained her, said the secret to marketing the clothing and accessories was developing a sense of what turned women on, not just what their men wanted. More often that not, though, the two overlapped. If it turned the woman on, it would turn the men on.

She was satisfied with the way things had worked out for her. Early on, she had to take jobs to make ends meet and nothing more. After leaving Earl, she often wondered if she had not made a mistake. After all, he was an adequate provider. No more than that, but they got by. It was his constant nagging at her to be more involved in his church and recruiting activities, that finally wore her down. Now, she worried that he had influenced Kelly to the point that she was even more “involved” and the influence of her pastor and his wife was decidedly unhealthy, in Nina’s view. She was worried that Jay was getting fed up with his wife’s devotion to the pastor and it was leading their marriage down the drain. It was not a matter of finances – she knew that Jay made a very healthy income from the pharmaceutical company he represented.

She ended the day with a fat order from Marie C., the owner of a group of ladies’ accessories. Nina had learned that the accessory market, if properly presented, was often more lucrative than the clothing. She could imagine operating a company like Marie’s, but it would mean more personal time than she currently had to provide, and that was not necessarily what she wanted.

By the time she drove her car from Statesville to Raleigh, she was bone tired. Even shedding the high heels for comfortable flats had only helped so much. Nina was glad it was Friday: tomorrow she could sleep in, and catch up on her reserves.

She stopped at Pizza Hut and picked up a large pizza she had called in. Then, she stopped at the closest Food Lion and picked up a 12 pack of Bud, which she knew was Jay’s choice.

Finally, arriving at her apartment, she unlocked the door and let herself in. She was quiet, and prepared for jay to be conked out on the sofa, but she heard the low volume of her TV from the bedroom. Quietly, she proceeded to the door and looked in to see her son-in-law asleep on the bed. She walked on in, trying not to disturb him. He was fast asleep.

She set her overnight bag on the floor next to the closet, and slipped out of her shoes. Going into the bathroom, she removed her skirt and blouse and put them in the clothes hamper. She raised the lid to the commode, then slipped her panties down and sat down and quietly urinated. As she wiped herself, she pondered the question of how to dress around Jay. Remembering that on previous visits, he had often seen her in her night gown, she removed her panties and bra, and added them to fethiye escort the hamper. The only problem now was that her gowns were in the dresser drawer, in the bedroom. She carefully peeked past the corner of the bathroom door, and saw he was still sound asleep. Silently moving into the bedroom, Nina eased open the lower of the dresser and began finding a proper night gown. The only problem was that she loved light, brief night clothes, so there were limits to her selection. After a moment, she picked out a cream short gown with spaghetti straps. She decided to leave her stockings on until she went to bed. Undecided about panties, she finally decided – no bra, no panties. After all, if she were here alone, that would be her choice.

Satisfied with her attire, Nina went back into the kitchen and took the pizza out of the box. It was still warm, but she turned on the oven and let it preheat. It was now close to 10 PM. She had put the beer in the fridge, and she opened a bottle of her favorite wine and poured a glass. Going into the living/dining area, she sat on the sofa and turned on the stereo system, deciding on a selection of Adele songs. She kept the volume low, and when the oven was heated, she put the pizza in for fifteen minutes.

She went into the bedroom with the thought of rousing Jay. He had turned onto his back and she noted his manhood partially in view from the opening of his shorts. She had seen his penis several times over the years, when the three of them had gone to the beach together, and once a year earlier when he stayed over the Labor Day weekend. It had all been accidental, but she knew he was well developed, even when flaccid. Once, at the beach, she had seen it rigid when he emerged from the bathroom. He had apologized, quickly covering himself, but not before she had seen how large and thick he was. Recalling that now, she remembered thinking how lucky her daughter was, to find a man blessed with a large dick.

This evening, she noticed something a little different – if she was not imagining it, it seemed that something was shining from the opening of his shorts. She wished the light was better, so she could see what it was. It was like a metallic glint.

It clearly was something new, she realized. Well, over the next few days, maybe I can get a better look. For the present, she moved closer to the bed and lay her hand on Jay’s shoulder. “Jay, I’m home, and the pizza is ready.”

She smiled at his reaction, as he half snored and rolled toward her touch. She was able to catch a better view into the opening of his shorts, and knew she was seeing something new. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Nina decided now was the time to check this situation out further. She carefully made sure Jay was still asleep, and parted the opening of his shorts a little more, exposing more of his penis, but still unable to see the whole thing. She felt herself getting aroused, and knew she must be careful.

She knew she should not do this, but her curiosity got the better of her, and she carefully opened his shorts a little more. This was not difficult, as Jay’s lounging shorts were roomy and loose. Also, he had not buttoned them, and Nina was presented with an easy opportunity.

Satisfied that Jay was still sound asleep, she eased the opening further apart, then her eyes widened as she saw what the glint was on his penis. It was a silver or stainless ring, about 1/4 inch wide, just behind the head of his dick. Although he was not hard, the ring looked like a snug fit. She alanya escort was so tempted to touch it, she felt her face reddening. I wonder if I could take it out, she mused to herself.

Just then, Jay solved the problem by shifting slightly toward her and moving his hand to his crotch. He grasped his dick, as if to reposition it, to relieve some discomfort. Nina satyed as still as she could, and let it develop. She almost gasped as she watched Jay’s hand slide his penis out of his shorts and grasped it with his hand. She saw the ring, now tight around an ever expanding penis, as he slowly massaged his manhood. She sat there on the edge of her bed, quietly watching her son-in-law in his sleep.

Nina was in quite a predicament. She sat, transfixed, watching her daughter’s husband in his sleep, massaging his dick, and watching the silver ring tighten just behind the head of his magnificent cock. It was engorged with blood at this point, and she wanted nothing more than to touch it, to feel its hardness. She was also aware of a feeling between her legs that she had not felt to this degree in too long. Being careful, she moved her hand to her crotch and felt her sex. She was surprised at how wet her vagina was, and wished she could relieve herself, right here beside her sleeping son-in-law.

I want to at least touch his cock, she thought. Carefully, she let the back of her fingers move toward his cock, and then lightly rub the top of it. He stirred just slightly and his hand moved just enough so that Nina could touch the head and the cock ring behind it. At the same time, she rubbed her vagina, letting her middle finger massage her clit. God, she thought, this is so good, and yet so bad. If Jay wakes, what will I say to explain this. In spite of these thoughts, she encircled his cock just behind the head and began carefully massaging him. At the same time, she was rubbing her pussy and feeling her juices start to flow. As nervous as she was, she could not stop, and saw that Jay’s cock was responding to her ministrations – drops of pre-come had formed on the tip of the head, not quite matching the wetness of her pussy, but still letting her know that he was reacting to her touch.

At that moment, jay started getting more restless, and seemed to be coming awake. Nina quickly moved off the bed and eased out of the bedroom. The smell of the pizza was strong, and she removed it from the oven and sliced it into several pieces. She felt good, standing there in her shorty gown, every nerve on edge on her breasts and between her legs from just a few minutes earlier.

” Hi Nina, ” Jay’s voice just behind her roused her from her thoughts. “Mmmm, that pizza smells delicious. It woke me from the best dream!!”

She turned around and gave him a big hug, feeling his body against hers. She loved the feel of his tight muscled build, and his hands smoothed down her back, resting finally on her rear.

“And just what was my favorite son-in-law dreaming about?”

It was a standing joke, as Jay was her only son-in-law.

“Can’t tell you. You would smack me and send me to a motel.”

“Nonsense. You know me too well. I can’t be shocked. Even by a handsome son-in-law!” She decided to be daring and said “Even if he is wearing a new piece of jewelry on his dick!!”

“You saw that?”

“Well, your shorts were gaped open,and it was exposed, so I got a good look!!”

“So what did you think?”

“Nice. Very nice. I’ll bet Kelly likes it!!!”

“Mmmm. She hasn’t seen it yet. I just got it a couple weeks ago down in Charlotte.”

“Come on, let’s sit and then you can tell all about it.”

They sat down, and got busy with the pizza. Jay told her about Kelly’s latest trip to Florida with the reverend’s group.

“Don’t you worry about that?”

“Sure, but what can I do? She won’t even talk about it. It’s like she’s been brain washed.”

(To be continued)

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Contextual Note:

This story is set in the UK, and there are a few britishisms and other cultural factors to be aware of.

• James and Priyanka are eighteen years old, in their final year of school. They are preparing for their “A-Level” exams — roughly the equivalent of American SATs.

• Priyanka is a Punjabi Sikh, a community which in certain parts of England is highly wealthy and successful. She calls James a gora, which means “white” in Punjabi.

• Finally, “Asian” in the UK refers not to an East Asian (Chinese, Japanese etc.) but instead to a South Asian (Indian, Pakistani etc.). This is for historical reasons — most of the Asian immigration to the UK was from the former colony of British India.

***

“Don’t be nervous!” Priyanka said brightly. “I’m sure they won’t suspect anything! They don’t even know you’re my boyfriend.”

James nodded, nervously. The plan was simple: James was to go round to “study” with Priyanka Sidhu at her house — of course, in reality, they would be getting up to other things.

Priyanka put her hand on his shoulder. “Listen, my Dad really wants me to pass these A-Levels. He’s expecting big things and you know how much pressure there is from Asian families to go to a good uni and study something prestigious. My parents know how good you are at maths so they’re completely fine with you coming over and studying in my room.”

James nodded again. It would probably be fine. He should stop worrying over small things.

“And in any case, aren’t you willing to undergo a little risk for something special?” Priyanka said, and batted her lashes. James gazed into her deep brown eyes and found himself involuntarily leaning forward, as if falling into them. God, she was beautiful. Something about her petite frame, caramel brown skin, and full lips captivated him, and he wondered — not for the first time — what on earth she was doing with him.

Priyanka held his gaze, and then carefully and deliberately lowered her eyes, leading his view down her shoulders, past her side, down her shapely legs and finally resting at her feet. She had removed one foot from her plimsoll, and delicately wiggled her toes in her black tights — enough that he got the hint.

James felt his penis twitch inside his trousers. Priyanka, after all, knew exactly what he most liked about her — her dainty feet and painted toes. And as much as he loved her feet, she loved the power they gave her over him even more. A satisfied smile crept across her lips as she observed his reaction.

“Six o’clock — be there!” She said, laughing, and slipped her foot back into her shoe. “My bus is here, see you!”

She planted a light kiss on his lips, got up and flicked her raven-black shoulder over her hair as she went. James watched her go and began dreaming of the night to come.

***

James showed up at six on the dot. Priyanka’s mother answered the door.

“Oh, hello!” She exclaimed in deeply accented English. She turned and called something up the stairs in Punjabi. James heard Priyanka reply in the same language from somewhere upstairs, and then light footsteps as she bounced down the stairs.

“Hi James!” She grinned. “Come up.”

James smiled nervously at Priyanka’s mother, murmured a thanks, and started after his young goddess.

The house was very much unlike his. Whereas his home was light and clean, filled with whites, beiges and flat-pack furniture, Priyanka’s home had an altogether grander feel. For one, it was larger — her father was a successful businessman and the size of the home reflected it. But also, the taste was richer; dark wood furniture, heavy curtains and a soft red carpet which Priyanka’s pretty bare feet sank into as she leapt up the stairs. The house also smelled strongly of fresh home cooking and spices mingling together. It was altogether a warm and inviting impression — and the distinct Asianness of it reminded him of how far his cultural background was from hers.

Priyanka turned and smiled as he walked into her room. She looked captivating. She was dressed in a red and gold sari, with her thick black hair tied into a messy bun. As she raised her bare giresun escort arms behind her head to fix it he couldn’t help but notice all of her features; her slender wrists, the creamy brown colour of her skin in the soft indoor lighting, the way the skin of her armpits was slightly darker but oh so inviting, the way her mischievous eyes glittered, and most of all — her cute feet. She was wearing gold anklets, as she knew he liked, and as she stood on the thick carpet her plump brown toes whitened slightly when she put her weight on them. They were small and perfectly shaped.

Priyanka noticed his gaze. “My eyes are up here,” she teased, and he blushed.

She laughed, a bright peal of laughter that enraptured him. She bounced into the room and shuffled objects around her floor as he stood awkwardly in the entrance. Her room was very messy and disorganised — clothes strewn across the floor, bags hanging off the chair, papers and books competing for space on the desk. James noticed a pair of her socks poking out from under a pair of jeans in the corner of the room, and felt a small heat creep further up his neck.

Priyanka continued “rearranging”, throwing pyjamas and a discarded sari behind her. “A-ha!” came the call, and she proudly raised up a laptop — “found it!”

She settled down onto the bed and impatiently motioned James to come and sit down. He did, smoothing the covers underneath and perching on the end while she shuffled up into the pillows at the top.

“Do you have your work with you?” Priyanka asked. James nodded in response and pulled out a maths textbook from his backpack. “I hope you know that we’re actually going to be doing some work…” she continued. “I, for one, am quite worried about this exam — so let’s study!”

James felt a little deflated. While he hadn’t expected anything serious to happen right away, Priyanka’s voice sounded firm. She clearly wanted to do some proper studying, with him as her tutor. But how was he supposed to focus on calculus when all he wanted to do was kiss those luscious Indian lips?

***

They had been revising for an hour, going through questions together and quizzing each other on which equations to use. James’s attention had at first been a little wanting — he was sitting at one end of the bed and she at the other, propped up on the pillows with her bare feet stretching towards him. He had forced himself to ignore his masculine impulses and the throb of his penis, slowly hardening inside his jeans. “She’s such a tease,” he had thought, “she lured me here with that cheeky smile, and we really are just studying.” Certainly, contrary to her earlier insinuations, Priyanka gave no indication at all that she knew what her anklets and uncovered toes were doing to her inexperienced boyfriend.

He was too shy to ask for anything, in any case. Resigning himself to an evening that would be less than fun, he consoled himself with the thought that he was at least making his Indian goddess happy. In fact, the idea itself even made him a little horny — that she was taking advantage of his infatuation to get some free tuition. “Damn it,” he thought as his penis twitched again, “why am I so pathetic? I shouldn’t be turned on by a girl manipulating me.”

Yet he was.

“So, what’s the answer?” Priyanka’s voice broke him out of his reverie.

“Well, that’s up to you to say. It’s your turn to be tested,” James replied.

Priyanka made a “hmm” sound, as if she was displeased by his response.

There was a brief silence. “Is something wrong?” asked James.

“I don’t like your tone with me,” Priyanka replied haughtily. “You made me feel stupid. As if I didn’t know the answer. When really I just thought it was your turn.”

James felt a nervousness creep through him. Had he said something wrong? He didn’t believe so — he was just being matter-of-fact.

“I was just answering your question,” he said hesitantly.

Suddenly, he felt a stinging pain across his face, accompanied by a “crack!” sound. He sat for a second, stunned. She had slapped him!

“How dare you!” She said in a haughty yalova escort tone. “How dare you talk to me like that!”

She leaned into him, her cold eyes level with his. Deliberately, she intoned:

“Know your place.”

James was stunned. He reached for words that would not come. She had really struck him across the face, forcefully. She had used violence against him, and he still wasn’t sure what he had even done wrong. His mind swirled with a thousand confused thoughts as he tried to comprehend what this pretty, sweet girl had just done.

There were a few moments of silence. Eyes locked with hers, James raised a hand and gingerly touched the stinging spot on his cheek where she had hit him. Staring into the deep brown pools of her gaze, he wasn’t sure whether to strike back, or cry.

Fearing that it would be the latter, he clumsily got to his feet and started towards the bedroom door.

“Stay.” Priyanka’s cool command from the bed cut through the air and stopped him dead, mid step.

Head lowered, he tried to suppress the tears welling in the corners of his eyes. Behind him, he heard the light footstep of Priyanka as she approached. Her hand touched gently on his shoulder and turned him around. The wide eyes looking up at him seemed suddenly full of compassion.

Priyanka’s slender, dark fingers reached up and tenderly brushed the tears from his cheeks. “I’m sorry I had to hit you,” she said in a soft voice, “but you need to understand a few things.”

She led him back to the bed and sat him down. Those soft hands which had hit him so viciously now pulled his head to her shoulder and gently stroked his hair. She began to speak.

“James, you are a very sweet boy. I’m very fond of you. But if we’re going to date, you need to realise that it will be on my terms.

I know that I can be demanding and difficult. I’ve always been that way, in fact. I’ve always liked to boss around the boys, even from when I was in primary school — and the white boys like you were always the biggest pushovers. Especially the skinny ones. That’s what drew me to you.

I feel like we’re at a critical point in our relationship now. It’s been fun up until today, we haven’t been too serious, we’ve kept it light. But now you have to make a choice.

James, I want to own you. I see your cute little face, your big puppy-dog eyes — and I want to control you. I want you to be all mine. That means that you can’t answer back like you did today. If I ask you to do something, you should do it without question, and never contradict me. If you step out of line, I will hit you, and it will hurt, but it’s not because I hate you — it’s to help you learn the boundaries.”

Here, Priyanka grasped his cheeks and pulled his face close to her. He could feel the sweet warmth of her breath on his face.

“James, if you say yes, you’ll be my boyfriend, but also something else. More like a willing servant, maybe.” A smile crossed her lips. “But I know you want that. I’ve seen how you like it when I boss you about. Isn’t it true?”

She searched in his eyes for an answer.

James was still in confused silence. Just a minute ago he had felt hurt, abused. Now, looking into her eyes, feeling the touch of her breath on his lips, smelling the hint of her perfume as she held his head close — his mind was swirling. He recognised the essential truth of what Priyanka said, and honestly, in his heart he felt deeply in love with her. But this was such a radical step, he had no precedent to help him… And what’s more, could he really agree to such terms? Allow her to hit him whenever she wanted? Had he really such little self-respect?

“Yes.” The word surprised him, and it was a second before he realised it had come from his own mouth.

Immediately it felt right, and he said it again, with a little more surety. “Yes, Priyanka, it’s true.”

Once again he cursed himself internally as the tears welled up. How pathetic, to cry at such a moment.

Priyanka, though, just smiled, and kissed his cheeks where the tears were falling. And then she kissed his lips.

The softness yozgat escort of her mouth against his felt exquisite. She led the kiss, twirling his hair in her fingers as she did so. He relaxed entirely, and gave himself over to her. The kiss lasted what felt like an eternity, as she slowly and gently explored him with her lips, and then her tongue.

After a long time, Priyanka pulled away. James could see a devilish smile in her eyes.

“I think you should thank me, my gora servant,” she said, barely suppressing a grin. Standing before him in her sari, she ordered: “kiss my toes”.

James’s cock leapt to attention. He sank to his knees on the floor and prostrated himself before her. Imperiously, she presented her foot to him.

James drank in the sight with his eyes. Her toenails were painted a deep red, a colour which complimented perfectly her light brown toes. He could see the colour of them vary; at the knuckles the skin was slightly darker. He wasn’t sure why, but this made them look even more delectable. A gold ring on her second toe ornamented what he thought were the most beautiful feet he had ever seen.

He leant in very close, and breathed in gently. The smell was intoxicatingly feminine; though her feet were clean, the faint personal scent of her sweat was detectable. He felt her toes wriggle with a shiver as he planted a soft kiss on the tops of them.

“Each one individually,” came the command, and James obliged. As he worked his way down, kissing each brown toe on each foot, he thought he had gone to heaven.

“Good boy,” Priyanka whispered from above.

***

It came time for James to leave.

“I’ll show you out,” said Priyanka, “but first… a little ‘thank you’ present!” She batted her lashes coquettishly, and James felt his knees weaken.

“Close your eyes!” She ordered, and James obeyed. He heard noises around the room, and felt a knot of excitement in his stomach. First the sound of rustling on the floor. Then a sound like paper ripping. Finally, the noise of scribbling over by the desk.

Priyanka put something in his pocket, and kissed his cheek. “Look later,” she said, and giggled.

***

As soon as he got home, James went to his room and checked his pocket. What he saw made his mouth dry and his heart start pounding. It was a pair of Priyanka’s used socks — white, stripy ones, with the fabric on the heel and under the ball of the toe dirty from rubbing on the inside of her shoes. The was a small piece of paper sticking out of the top. James picked it out and unrolled it.

“Dearest servant,

I know what you boys are like — you can’t help yourselves. I know you will probably get yourself off later like the pervert you are. All I command is that you only ever do it while thinking of me, and surrounded by my scent. I want you to imagine me slapping you while you do it.

Happy wanking!

-P”

James’ cock was hard as a diamond and straining in his pants. Even so, he felt the confusing rush of emotions from earlier rise up in him as he read the request. She wanted him to fantasise about her abusing him…

It was awful, but with a jolt, he realised that the cruelty of the command turned him on even more. Desperately, he unbuckled his belt, threw off his trousers and underwear, held the socks to his nose and started furiously pounding his erection.

The smell was heavenly. It was recognisably the scent from when he had kissed her toes earlier, but much stronger. He imagined her divine feet walking around in those cute shoes of hers, sweating all day into the socks he now held against his face. Oh, the feminine smell and sweat of his beautiful Asian goddess! He involuntarily put his tongue to the fabric, trying to envelop his senses with Priyanka.

While he did so, he imagined and re-imagined the slap, just as she had instructed. “I want her to abuse me,” he thought, “I want her to slap me and hit me and claw me and beat me. I want to die just to please her. I want her to grab my cock and twist it until I scream. I want her to smother me under her pussy until I pass out. I want her to spit on me and call me her filthy white slave. I want my Indian princess to own me completely!”

With this thought, and the smell of the socks overwhelming him, James had a powerful orgasm, spurting his semen all over himself and the bed. A deep shiver went through his body and he collapsed back, exhausted.

In the clarity after his ejaculation, he wondered what he had really agreed to.

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This is a short work of erotic fiction containing furry, or anthropomorphic, characters, which are animals that either demonstrate human intelligence or walk on two legs, for the purposes of these tales. It is a thriving and growing fandom in which creators are prevalent in art and writing especially.

All characters are over eighteen and clearly written to be so, as in all of my stories.

****

“Phew, that was a tough one!”

Jester practically bounced out of the dungeon, although just how she still had energy after all of that was not something that Beau could quite understand. The cave mouth yawned behind her and Beau staggered out, her hair a mess, though it was usually scraped back in a high ponytail. It had come wavy from her exertion in the cave and she scowled tiredly, hardly able to quirk her lips to complete the expression, though it was one that did not take much effort at all.

The blue-skinned Tiefling, however, did not seem to grow tired at all. A little shorter than Beau, she wore long, flowing skirts built up in many layers into a dress, though it was not the sort of thing that one, typically, wore into a dungeon. It suited her abilities perfectly, however, considering that the sweep of the skirts concealed the true path of her body as she wielded her lollipop, an unusual and highly effective spiritual weapon, and more, cloaking her effectively in battle. She did too prefer striking from a distance though, whenever possible, even if she was more than cheerfully confident in her own abilities. It was hard not to find that after a rougher start in life than what many may have had but such was the way of those who were, quite literally, born to adventure.

Beau was not a Tiefling and did not bear the same, elegant horns as Jester as a human, though her eyes admired the curve of them nonetheless. Her skin glowed with a golden-brown hue, although had grown darker still with a tan during the summer months, many of their adventures together taking them across the plains. Her attire left her midriff exposed for increased range of motion and the hard set to her jaw distracted from her sweeping, high cheekbones. Beau was an opponent to be reckoned with and more than one foe, in the past, had underestimated her, much to their detriment. Her thigh-high boots were perhaps more protective than decorative, however, regardless of how they tended to be worn in the more built-up cities, her trousers wound with magic so that they would never affect or restrict her flexibility in the slightest. Of course, her powers remained ever at the ready, crackling and sparking off, though those nuances could not be seen by the naked eye.

“Yes…” She tried to catch her breath but a smile pulled more insistently at her lips, her attention on Jester. “It’s… Oh, to hell with it…”

Maybe it was the wrong time but it was one of those instances where Beau could never be quite sure if there was a right time and the rosy blush in Jester’s cheeks right then and there was too much for her heart. The words dangled off the tip of her tongue as Jester turned to her, eyes alight with innocence, and yet they would not come forth, Beau frowning and tucking the amulet that she’d found, the one that was destined for Jester, back into her pocket.

“Let’s go cool off,” she said instead, regaining her usual calm and in control attitude, the one that she had practised for so many years by that point. “There’s a lake nearby and I’ll make sure there’s nothing lurking in there before we go in.”

Jester giggled and bounced, tipping up onto her toes as her tail, with the slightly spade-shaped tip, wiggled cutely.

“Sounds great!”

There was no need to be eloquent between friends and that at least had bought Beau a little time, though she didn’t quite know where to keep the amulet when they dived into the lake. Of course, clothes suitable for retaining one’s modesty while swimming were not something that adventurers usually took along with them and skinny dipping was most certainly the order of the day when it came to things between Jester and Beau. Even though she had seen Jester nude before, Beau’s eyes were apt to wander, hungry for more, leaving their clothes and belongings on a rock where there was nowhere to hide around, out in the open, the best for them to keep an eye on while they cooled off some.

What she did not know was that the Tiefling, ducking under the surface of the water and swimming like a fish, had eyes for her too. Of course, Jester did not quite yet know what the butterflies in her stomach meant but, oh well — they felt nice anyway! It was a simple way to look at things with a lack of understanding behind it but there was more still in the world for the Tiefling to experience and that in itself was not a bad thing. As a powerful adventurer of the cleric class, her bubbly smile hid a lot. If one had taken a moment to look at her as an opponent, of course, they would have found her light muscle tone, how her body held it all erzurum escort so very efficiently, how her hair was cropped short about her shoulders too just so that it would not get in the way. As pretty as she was with her dots of freckles, there was a practicality to her too that had been borne from her younger days, as an adult, in the brothel, earning a living and learning just what the pleasures of the body were all about.

The one thing that had been left off there, however, had been where the heart came into play. But that was something that Jester was going to find out one day. Perhaps sooner than she thought.

Beau swallowed hard, eyes darting to the Tiefling’s tail as it poked above the surface of the water, Jester pretending that it was a snake. Maybe at another moment Beau would have swatted it away or laughed at it but, even then, all she could do was freeze, stomach tying itself into knots.

Just do it.

I can’t.

Why not?

Yet she did not have that answer for herself, thoughts pinging back and forth inside her head, chasing the tail of every one that had gone before. Just like she chased the tail of the adorable Tiefling, though she probably would not fall so low as to, quite literally, chase after her. Beau had standards of her own, after all, yet no one could tell just what they were capable of or how far they were willing to bend their own iron-clad rules until that sweetness of love beckoned them forth.

They were both new to opening up in their own ways but Beau’s excitement grew, the knots of worry softening in her stomach. She could just give her the amulet and see how she reacted to that, she reasoned to herself. There was very little reason or her not to like the amulet but she could see how things went first, yes, that was a good idea, a very good idea.

“Hang on here!”

Beau smiled as she swam back to shore and was back in a moment with the amulet in her hand, tucked into the palm where Jester could not see what she was holding. The Tiefling’s brow furrowed cutely and it was overly obvious when she tipped her head to the side, what with the horns that went along with her and all.

“What have you got there?”

The amulet already had a chain attached to it but, belatedly, Beau wished that she’d either uncovered or purchased a fine, gold one to go along with it. It would have made the piece something special, though she’d already thought it was something special, something special enough, of course, to be able to give Jester. Her thoughts jumbled together, piling on top of one another for precedence that they were not due, and the woman gulped, accidentally swallowing a mouthful of water as she floundered.

“Oh — Beau!”

And then the very much naked Tiefling was there, trying to support her, striving to tow her back to shore, yet Beau resisted, her cheeks hot and crawling with a blush that seeped down her neck. She tried to brush it away with her fingers but the amulet was in her hand still, thankfully, and she simply did not have the dexterity to do all at the same time, the sunshine sparkling down in the late afternoon and the day was not getting any younger either.

She took a deep breath — one not filled with water that time. Could she do it? Would she do it? There was only one way to tell.

Jester fussed with her, trying to take her more gently by the arm to get her back to shore, though the woman, she should have known already, was not one to be forced. A little on the proud and stubborn side in some ways, she refused assistance, sculling back a little closer to the reeds that afforded them some privacy, though the water gleaming on her face shone alluringly. Jester paused there, her chin just barely above the surface of the water, the shape of the woman before her blurred and shifting beneath the surface. There was something there, something more, her heart pulling for Beau, even though she had seen so many nude bodies in her life that it was no longer any surprise to her at all to see one there and then.

“Beau, come on,” she said, a giggle bursting forth as her bubbliness rejuvenated itself, never far away for very long. “You must be so tired after the dungeon! Let’s get our clothes and see if we can make it to the tavern before dark. We can get a room at the inn, settle in for the night. You’ll be more rested in a few days, I’m sure.”

Ah, that was so very Jester: always trying to look after everyone else. Beau smiled faintly, her decision made in that moment. Like some others that rushed and fussed about trying to help everyone and everything, Jester was careful and thoughtful about the help that she offered — therefore, one could rest assured that it was of a higher quality than anything that anyone else could offer. And that she was still so concerned about her when her bones too had to have been aching from crawling through that long tunnel, the one where they’d had to laugh and exchange tiny eskişehir escort stories, snippet stories, just to convince one another that they were going to get out of the dark to the other side. Adventuring, of course, came with pitfalls as much as it did excitement, but they had gotten through everything so far simply because they had each other by their side.

Why would Beau want to do anything to break that? She licked her lips, eyes dropping ever so slightly shyly. No… No, she wanted to nurture it, foster it, bring it into a new light of being. There was more between them, she had to think, that was yet to be explored, and she had never been one to turn down an adventure. So, why let her nerves get the better of her then?

“I got this for you,” she said simply, not needing elegance or eloquence on her side to convey all that she needed to. “I knew it would suit you.”

The heavy gold could have been too much but the round amulet was off-set by tiny rubies set into an intricate pattern that seemed to spiral as one stared at it. Jester gasped, eyes wide, as the chain of it was fastened at the back of her neck, Beau’s breasts brushing hers as she swam in close. That in itself was not something unusual to Jester but she didn’t quite know why the act of that alone sent her stomach into somersaults, almost as if her body was trying to tell her something. Yet she was too enraptured by the gift of the amulet to realise too that there was something more at play there, soft sounds that she barely remembered making escaping her lips.

“Oh… It’s beautiful!” Jester could not help but exclaim, though it was a difficult order indeed to stay afloat and give the amulet the due attention it deserved too at the same time. “Thank you — you found this in the dungeon? And you’re giving it me? Why?”

Alas, she did not understand what the jitteriness in her stomach was, too innocent in the ways of love while lust was too common to her. It was for her to learn in time and yet Beau swallowed hard, fidgeting even in the water and appearing, in a way, as if she wanted to be somewhere else, even as she, as boldly as she could, took Jester’s hand in her own. Linking their fingers together, Beau called on every last bit of daring in her soul and tightened her grip, lest she lose her too soon.

“I’ve really liked you for a long time,” Beau said, striving to pace her words out normally even though the beat of her frantically pounding heart chased them on. “Would…” Oh, it was harder than she had even though it would be to do, now that the words had begun and there was no backing out of it. “Would you…like to go on a date with me sometime?”

Jester’s eyes sparkled and she would have clasped her hands to her breast bone if she had not been pre-occupied sculling to keep herself afloat, though, in that moment, it was a wonder that she did not float away from the pure joy blossoming up through her heart. It warmed her through and through, right down to even the tips of her toes, and she kicked without thinking, propelling her body in closer to Beau’s, closing what little distance there had been between them.

Some things, she didn’t have to think about. Like how she grabbed Beau’s face between her hands and kissed her deeply, their lips touching for the first time. It was out of the blue and entirely impulsive but no other two things could have summed Jester up so purely, her heart pounding, Beau’s leaping out at her too as their bodies pressed together. There could have been something more sexual about that moment but the innocence and purity of the kiss too could not be denied. There was a softness behind it and, after a moment of complete shock, which was to be expected, Beau kissed her back, her fingers finding the damp slickness of Jester’s hair and drawing her in closer.

Of course, wet hair was not the kindest thing to grab but Beau, delirious and giddy with delight that things had not gone as terribly as her mind had told her that they could go, tried to twist her fingers into it nonetheless. Sinking lightly in the water, Jester gave over to her natural buoyancy for a moment to reposition the woman’s hands on her horns instead, a giggle, as always seemed to be proper for her, on her lips. There was not much time for even those breathless giggles, however, to be shared, when there was such joy to be had between them, the kiss coming together again and washing all other thoughts from their minds.

In that moment, nothing else existed for either of them in the whole world, their recent adventurer, even, forgotten. Such was the way of love, Jester still yet to learn, though she would have the best teacher in Beau, a little more experienced even if that meant too that she had had her heart broken once upon a time also. That was not for that time, however, and she leaned hungrily into the kiss, deepening it, her lips parting so very softly to allow the tease of Jester’s tongue into her gaziantep escort mouth.

By the gods — the Tiefling could kiss! Beau’s head spun, heavier than ever, wanting to sink, wanting to fall, but there was nowhere to go except for the deeper, inkier depths of the lake pulling them down. They could not sink when there was love to be had in life and the dizzying glee of it all had to be kept in check still as they kissed furiously, passionately, quite as if they were making up for lost time. But never again would the woman and the Tiefling find that they were short on time with one another, now that everything was out in the open. Secrets rarely were held for good reasons and fear of being rejected could never be considered any kind of reason to hold in attraction. Maybe that was something that Beau was yet to learn but, especially for her, things were coming up just as she’d dreamed they would.

Jester’s hand snaked around her waist, pulling her in by her hip, and the blush that seared into life across Beau’s cheeks and neck, even seeming to manage to heat up her ears, was anything but demure.

But they had to get out of the lake first for that…

*

Jester, of course, adored the amulet and refused to even change the chain, proudly proclaiming (though there was no one else there to hear them) that she could not possibly change it when it was Beau, her lovely Beau, who had given it to her. It was inherently wrong of her to change a gift like that in any way and thus the amulet had hung around her neck ever since. Of course, only a little time passed before the weight of it and the rather thick chain became more obvious, drawing her down even as something about her seemed…bigger.

No, no… Jester shook it off, even as she eyed up her breasts by the spring that she had spent the night beside, with Beau of course. Beau lay on their sleeping mat, now shared, with a bare shoulder exposed, for they had not seen any need to don clothes again after enjoying one another’s bodies the previous night, their first time together. With her dress bundled up softly, ready to be put on, she peered down at her chest, rocking her body first one way and then the other, trying to see just what it was that was different down there. For things seemed out of sorts, filling out her dress more when she finally pulled it down, her hips wider, buttocks larger, yet nothing in any way that she could outright see. Yet any woman knew their own bodies and could tell when something was not quite right even if they could not quite put their finger on it. In that instance, Jester was most certainly no different.

“This can’t be right…”

It didn’t make sense as she tried to tug the dress into place, to get it down that extra couple of inches so that it was of its usual length. But there was something wrong there too as her body did not quite seem to fit the dress anymore, rather than the dress not fitting her, coming up short over her ankle-length boots, the ones that were comfortable and eye-catching for adventuring. Those were ones that Beau had teased her about before and, in a way, Jester had continued right on wearing them just to get the comments off her, the communication between them, back then, growing day by day.

She smiled faintly. Maybe it was not such a bad thing if those boots were on show. She’d pick up some more clothes when they went into town.

There were less adventurous things to be done in town, of course, the cobbled streets beckoning horses in harness with their carriages rattling behind, those of higher classes riding within them. The Tiefling had once ridden a horse but not quite found it to her liking, which was just why she preferred adventuring on foot, finding that she could cover more advanced and interesting terrain in that way. A horse, after all, could not follow her down into tight tunnels or raft down rivers and may have to be abandoned when it came to dungeons. It would surely be an obscene expense to buy a new one every time!

Yet the tailor didn’t seem to be able to let her dress out enough down there to cover her either and she didn’t understand, taking a room at one of the inns that night with Beau. There had been a raised eyebrow when a room with just the one bed had been requested but opinions against their relationship and two ladies enjoying more intimate company with one another were best kept silent. Jester was hardly one to keep her mouth shut when it came to speaking up, considering her early work and the wide exposure that she’d had even back then to many sexualities and how lust played out in the regard. It was, at least in one way, something that had opened her up to knowing and understanding that “women were fun too”. Sometimes, to her, it didn’t need to be any more complicated than that and it came with a wry smile too.

However, the next day, she could not deny that her breasts were larger, obviously so. Even the nipples were thicker and stood out from the round of her breasts as she tried to take stock of her body. The room appeared smaller around her as she lost her sense of where her body was, where she was stepping and standing, her proprioception off. Beau tried to help her, though it was funny too, especially when her larger buttocks knocked a lantern off the table beside the bed, driving the two of them into peals of giggles.

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I have worked on this story for several days now. I offer it for your enjoyment but it is not free. If you read it I want a vote, that is not too much to ask. BTW this story is based on true events that happened where the story is set. enjoy, Mikey

*

Mick watched the slave, remembering the unique feelings of being naked, hooded and bound in public. He imagined the leather of the hood would have soaked up a lot of different smells since he had made it two years ago. As he stood there watching he saw the slave swallow several times. He knew how it felt to breathe around the phallic like soft gag. Since he had built it, Mick realized how long it was and how the gag was something that rode the slaves mind. It truly was a constant threat to choke the slave if he didn’t work at keeping it wet and moving it around in his mouth. With the hood laced on tight, there was no place to spit or puke, the slave had to learn to adapt. That’s why they called it a training hood.

The hood had a strange effect on a slave, denying him sight and speech, but at the same time giving him so many other sensatory feelings. Like the smell and the taste of the material as it wrapped itself around his head. A dehumanizing embrace that he was powerless to escape. The hooded slave could hear the movements and the sounds from the busy room that surrounded him. A couple had been playing on the swing in the corner, he could hear them as plain as if he was watching with his eyes. He heard the girl moan in sated lust, his mind watched, as her mistress slow fucked her in public.

The slave couldn’t help but get hard as he listened to their passionate screwing, making his cockring bite into his swelling cock. He wanted to turn his head to better hear the action but he couldn’t because of the restraints that held him on the bondage sled. He was desperate to get his mind off of what was about to happen to him. His Mistress, a woman by the name of Pat, was selecting a flogger from the rack on the wall. She was wearing a seven-inch dildo that stuck out from the custom leather harness that Mick had made for her two years ago. It was part of the same order that included the hood and a complete set of his best restraints.

It was easy for him to put himself into the mindset of the young man on the sled. Mick was a ‘taster’ he had tasted every dish that the table of life had put before him. He had tried the sled with his girlfriend and partner Leesa calling the shots. It wasn’t what he was looking for, but it was an experience that he would always remember. He tried out every device and toy that he made, he needed to know how it felt, it was his job.

Mick stood in the doorway taking in the sights that the room was offering. He wasn’t the only one watching, there had to be at least twenty people in the room. They filled the two large couches and three wingback chairs that were placed amongst the stocks, the bondage sled, the swing, and in the corner the Gynecological table. Every area had a crowd watching, and everybody seemed to be getting alone with everybody, it was a very good party.

They had mirrors hanging on all the walls and two full-length mirrors on the closet doors. Mick caught his reflection across the room. He saw a short balding man with a slightly protruding gut leaning against the doorway. Something about the way he had his legs crossed and the way he held his coffee made him look like he was waiting on a bus or something. He didn’t look like he belonged in the room, nearly everybody else was either completely or semi-naked or they were dressed up in wonderfully erotic fetish wear. Mick’s tee shirt and jeans just didn’t fit the room. Many of the guys in the room knew him from past parties and started to wave and talk to him. He waved and had a word for everyone who approached him; it was part of the job. Soon enough the hot sex scenes drew their attentions away from Mick.

His eyes scanned across the room to the swing, the scene that had so captured slave Steve’s attentions in the hood, had captured the room’s attention now. It was hot as hell. The top, a girl that came to a lot of the parties, was a tall slim black woman. Mick remembered that she was a social worker from down in Philly. She was a lesbian who lived with a woman named Jezebel. Topaz was her name and she worked in child welfare. Jezebel did domination for a living; she was always flying somewhere to have a session with somebody. They ran a sexual boutique down on south fifth St in Philly. Mick had known them for several years now but still couldn’t tell which played the top role in their relationship.

The girl secured in the swing was a white girl, a little plumb but still nice to look at. She raised up her ass to receive the long silicone cock deep into her cunt. The strokes were long, slow and deep, the top in no hurry to finish, wanting to string it out. The chubby girl in the swing moaned out loud when her Mistress, a tall redheaded woman, reached out and twisted her nipple. The black girl smiled and the two of them düzce escort started to play with the bound woman. Soon the girl had to be gagged with a ball gag to keep her from screaming as they forced her to cum again and again.

He took a sip of the hot coffee that he held, turned and walked through the kitchen and back into his leather shop in the rear. Passing the table loaded with finger foods and soft drinks Mick snagged a couple of donuts. As he placed them on his paper plate he heard the sound of a man’s voice, a long low moan coming form the front room. Sounded like Stevie was getting that strap-on scene he had often dreamed of doing. Mick smiled around a mouth full of donut as he considered the old proverb, ” Be careful what you wish for. You just might get it.”

As he walked into his workshop he purposefully left the door open, exposing the young woman who stood topless in front of his table to anybody in the kitchen. Mick couldn’t remember what her name was, he thought that it was Sue but he wasn’t sure. He decided to call her slave and let it go at that. When he finished his donuts he wiped his hands on a towel and picked up the box of saran wrap.

He looked at the scared young woman and said, “come here slave.”

Sue, or who ever she was, came to stand before him while he sat in his swivel chair.

“Closer,” he demanded, she edged closer coming between his spread legs. She wore only a small transparent throng panty, Mick could see the wet spot caused by her arousal, and he could smell her heat as she fidgeted from the close contact with a strange man. Mick ignored her discomfort. “Put your hands behind your head.”

She obeyed, her smallish breast sticking out from her chest, her flat stomach rising and falling with her heavy breathing, her eyes held tightly closed. The sounds of the flogger meeting soft flesh came from the front room; the girl flinched with each smacking sound.

Mick started to wrap the clear film around her body, brushing against her erect nipples when he reached behind her with the roll of plastic wrap. After about twenty revolutions he thought that he had enough. The young woman was wrapped from just under her tits to just above where her pubic hair would have started if she had let it grow, but she was clean and smooth, no hair. Reaching for a roll of duct tape he started to wrap it tightly around the plastic wrapped woman. He pressed the tape hard onto the saran-wrap sealed body of the girl, his hands gliding across her pushing and pressing, ironing out wrinkles as he taped her. His fingers worked the tape into the area under her breast, the lifting and poking causing her nipples to show her excitement. The tape was covering over the layer of saran wrap, soon the girl was wearing a sliver corset of tape.

Mick stood back and looked at the girl, she was really quite pretty. Her straight reddish hair was cut short, like a young boy’s, but her face was so clearly feminine. Her eyes were watching him now. Once again he ignored her. As he rose from his chair, he placed his hands on the woman’s shoulders. He felt the stiffening in her flesh as she prepared to resist him, instead he moved her aside as he stepped over to his sewing table. He got a few magic markers and a tailor’s tape, returning he once more used the girl’s shoulders like handles to move her where she should be, this time there was no resistance.

Her breast were made more pronounced by the tight wrappings, while they were too small to hang down over the tape, they were pushed and squeezed upward like an offering. The nipples jutting hard and erect the darker flesh that surrounded them wrinkled up tightly, making the nipple stand out even more. She was one sexy package; he forced his thoughts back onto the job at hand, starting to draw a design on the duct tape she was wearing. “Turn to your right.” He never looked at her when he spoke, he tried to think of her as an object not a person. It was all part of the service that he and Leesa provided to their clients, a complete immersion into S&M. This young woman wanted to be a slave and by God that was the way that Mick was going to treat her.

It took another thirty minutes to get the design down pat and then he had to take a pair of bandage scissors and cut along one of his lines to get the pattern off of the girl. When he peeled the tape from her it took the saran wrap off with it, leaving the sexy young body with red lines and wrinkles where it had been compressed by the tape. Her hard nipples pointed right at his face as he spun her around to stand facing him. “Tell your mistress that I will have the corset ready in two weeks. Are you guys coming to the next party? If you are then you can pick it up then, if not then I will mail it to you. Ask your mistress to come back and see me before she leaves, OK?”

“Yes sir, I will tell her. Thank you. May I go now?” Her manner and voice confirmed her sub status.

Mick nodded his head, picked up his empty edirne escort cup and followed the girl out of the room back into the kitchen. Stevie, the slave in the hood who had just been fucked in public with a strap-on, was sitting at the table with his own cup of coffee. The cup sat in front of Steve but it had a straw, with a small pink penis on the top, stuck in it. The slave’s hands were cuffed behind his back. Pat, the woman who held down the job of wife as well as the role of Mistress, sat across from him, her eyes filled with satisfaction and pride in how her slave had performed.

“That was a hot scene that you two did.” Mick offered his opinion without being asked as he slid in behind the table to sit next to stevie. “Was it everything that you had thought it would be?”

Pat answered for Steve. “He loved it. Did you see the way he was reaching for it with his tight little ass toward the end? What a slut he was, I was so proud of him.”

The woman did seem very pleased with her slave Mick thought but the slave was being very silent. He decided to push it a bit. “What did you think of it Steve?”

“Go on, tell him what a slut you felt like as I fucked you.” Pat encouraged her shy slave.

Steve’s eyes trailed up Mick’s middle-aged body until they found his face. “It hurt at first, but later it was alright.” His eyes strayed to his Mistress. “Did you enjoy it Mistress?”

“Yes stevie, I enjoyed it very much and I will enjoy it more each time until you are wanting my cock inside you all the time.” She reached over and grabbed steve’s cock. It was reddish purple from being in the cockring for so long, cool to her touch from lack of circulation. It was only semi-erect but started to respond to her touch, growing and swelling to full size making the sliver cockring sink into the hard flesh of his shaft. The head became a slick shiny purple, the skin stretched so tight that it made every wrinkle flow into hardness. The cock jutted out to where it bumped the underside of the table.

“Mick,” Pat was talking to him. ” Will you help me with stevie’s training?”

Mick liked to avoid these types of situations but he had stumbled into one again. It was a question and she was waiting for an answer. “Sure Pat, you know that I will help out when I can. What can I do for you?” Mick waited for her answer, his eyes scanning the room for Leesa, not finding her. She must be in the basement.

“I want stevie to be fucked in both ends, I can fuck him with my strap-on but I need your cock for his face. Will you let stevie suck your cock for you while I fuck him?” She asked the favor much as if she wanted to borrow a cup of sugar, no big deal.

It wasn’t the first time that Mick had filled this role at a party. He wasn’t shy and he liked blowjobs. “When do you want to do this?” He asked Pat, but he was watching stevie trying to see what his feelings were as his mistress lined up a cock for him to suck in front of all these people.

Stevie’s cock jerked when Pat told him, “Tonight in the basement, I want to get it on tape. Do you mind that?”

“I don’t mind the tape if my face doesn’t show. But I want to see it before it leaves the house.” Mick looked at stevie. “You think you can give a good blow-job? You know I like a slut that can deep throat, I’m going to face fuck you if we do this. You OK with that?” His eyes went back and forth from Pat to stevie, stevie nodded and Pat was much more vocal saying.

“This little slut is going to suck you like it is his own mother’s milk he is after.” She turned to stevie. “Tell him how much you want to suck his cock.”

“No.” Mick said, “let him show me” He held his thumb up in front of the slaves face. He placed the thumb on stevie’s lips and pushed inside his mouth running deep to the back of his throat, his palm and his other finger laying flat across the man’s face. “Suck me, show me how much you want me to fuck your face. Show me what a slut you are, suck my little cock and tonight I will let you suck my big one.”

Pat’s face was lit up like a kid’s on Christmas morning, her eyes riveted on the thumb stabbed into her slave-husband’s mouth. She was too excited to be quite and started talking to stevie. “Suck it, you slut, suck it like the whore you are. Suck it for me baby, show me what a slut you can be for me.”

Steve started to work his head up and down on Mick’s thumb sucking for all he was worth, his tongue doing overtime as it swirled around the part of the thumb where the head of a cock would have been. He drove his face deep onto the digit taking all he could get down his hot little throat until he gagged. He came up for air and dove back down the shaft.

Damn thought Mick, this little slut is really ready for this. He pulled his thumb free of the hot mouth, rubbing the slobber off on the slave’s hair. “Yeah, I’ll let the slut have a suck on the old cock. Let me know when you want to do the scene. Right now I got to get some restraints elazığ escort ready for that new couple from Pittsburgh.” He stood up and refilled his coffee. “Pat, you should get that cockring off for a while or you could do some damage. I’m not telling you what to do but I don’t think you want to really hurt him do you? Let me know when you’re ready for my blowjob.”

He retreated back into the safety of his shop and got behind his sewing machine. Damn that slut was really sucking that thumb; he was looking forward to fucking his face later. As he watched the needle making it’s strokes in and out over the leather he thought of his life and how it had changed since they had rented this place that they could not afford. The ‘place’ was an old two-story farmhouse with a full basement sitting on a hundred acres of farmland with several out buildings that he used in his other job doing custom interiors in cars. The rent was twelve hundred plus utilities every month.

Neither of them had a steady job with a check coming in every week. Both Leesa and him worked for themselves doing jobs where they found them, mostly off of their websites that Leesa maintained. The parties were their answer to the problem. Two parties a month brought in over three thousand every month and it was all tax-free. The parties had gained a momentum as they continued year after year and the clubs in New York were giving discounts to WIC members now.

The leather shop was the only room where smoking was allowed; it had a ventilation system to get the glue fumes out of the room. It worked very well on the smoke also. All the smokers would end up there several times over the course of a party. They provided a play by play of the hot scenes that were going on in other places in the house. And it gave Mick a chance to get to know everyone, at least the smokers. Soon they were telling him about the scene that Mistress Pat was planning for her slave. They told him that she had him on the sled now and was giving him a wine douche. Later he was told that she put a whole bottle of merlot in his ass and sealed it with a butt-plug. Mick decided to take a break and watch a few minutes of slave stevie’s ordeal.

He was back in the doorway the room before him was like a three ring sexual circus. Gynecological table on the far side of the room had a crowd around it as a slave had her nipples pierced. Her feet were in the stirrups because they were going to do her clit next. It was legal because the rings would not be left in, what they called play-piercing.

One of the new couples were on the bondage sled, the guy secured by the restraints while his mistress whipped him with an assortment of different toys from the toy rack on the wall. Mick watched with a professional interest since he had made most of the toys being used. The swing had a pretty woman tied into it wearing a blindfold while her partner sat on a stool and teased and nibbled at her pussy to the music of the slaves sighs and moans. He didn’t see stevie or Pat he decided to check downstairs in the basement.

The only light in the basement was from a string of white Christmas lights strung around the top of the wall on three sides. The hundreds of tiny lights gave a soft warm glow much like candlelight. The bare rock walls sucked the light up not giving any reflections only the people stood out in the soft light. Mick spotted Leesa, with her slave rob, they were doing a scene with rob in stocks. Leesa was whipping him with a leather strap that had turned his ass into a red and spotted battlefield of pain. He cried out with each blow, counting and thanking his Mistress.

“Fifty-one, thank you Mistress, may I have another!” He cried out as the thick leather strap fell across his asscheeks.

Leesa stroked the back of his legs with the strap, teasing him with the uncertainty of when the next blow might fall. Surprising him with a hard smack of the strap across the back of his thighs.

“Fifty- two. Thank you Mistress, may I have another?” The sound was a little muffled by the hood he was wearing, sweat was pouring off his body as he was rapidly reaching his limits. Mick decided that he wouldn’t fuck up the scene, he waited in the shadows, but Leesa seemed to sense his presence and turned to look right at him. She smiled warmly her face happy, she truly loved this shit, Mick thought to himself.

She turned back to her slave and said. “Think of something that you will do for me that I might like while I am gone. When I get back I will let you tell me what it is, and it better be good and slutty” She slung the strap one last time connecting with the sore ass with a loud smack.

“Fifty-three, thank you Mistress. May I have another?” Rob yelled out followed by a quieter, “Yes Mistress.”

Leesa grabbed Mick’s arm and they walked back up the stairs, he got both of them fresh cups of coffee and they walked out into the coolness of the Pennsavania night. The Pocono’s mountains rose up all around them. The lights of the ski slope lighting the sky with a soft glow, they could see the small dots of bright colors that marked a skier as he rushed down the cleared slopes of the mountainside. They both loved living here, nestled in this small valley far from everything yet within easy driving from New York and Philly. They found chairs and sat on the deck behind the house.

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Wank Gough, aka ‘The Goughster’ here, with some guidelines to help all you WASPs (White Ango-Saxon protestants) out there fulfil your cuckold status.

Now, as I’m all about the love, here’s a little warning: tetchy WASPs who don’t think they’re natural and willing cuckolds might want to stop reading here, as you’re likely to not be able to cope with ideas wider than your mind is capable of.

In other words this submission contains themes of cuckoldry, so for those readers who burst a blood vessel at such themes, I’d recommend you stop reading now.

For the rest of you, I believe I might be hearing a few of you shout;

“But Wank I don’t wanna be a cuckold!”

Well, little fella; All white married men are potential cuckolds.

“Why’s that, Wank?”

You haven’t been paying attention, have you, little fella? When we’re finished here, run along and read:

Goughster explains: ‘Loving Wives’

Goughster explains: ‘Your Wedding’

Goughster explains: ‘WASPs and Signs’

Goughster explains: ‘Misogyny’

… and then you’ll be ed’i’cated!

But, for now, I’ll help you out with a little preface:

Well, all white married men are potential cuckolds for a few reasons:

1.Because they’re married; you can’t be a cuck unless you’re married. Why’d they get married unless they wanted to take a step nearer to cuckoldry?

2.Because many WASPs are self-satisfied, smug and complacent and so neglect their wives who then become desperate for a real fucking rather than the insipid and uninspired weekly sympathy fuck they allow their hub Mcgubb.

“But my marriage isn’t like that, Wank!”

Hahaha, little fella! So you don’t think your sweet loving sammich maker wife is craving for a good, hard fucking from a man who will treat her inner fuck-pig like it deserves?

Hell, maybe you’re right; and maybe fuck-pigs will fly!

Anyway, we can’t trust your perspective on your loving wife, little fella; you went and married the fuck-pig, which goes to show you don’t understand women at all, so just read these guidelines and maybe they’ll help you help your darling sammich maker become the best white trash fuck-pig she can be!

Hell, print ’em out and read ’em to the fuck-pig, but don’t blame me if its cock-socket feels like a drooling horse chewing oats when you finish reading and check it for signs of arousal.

First off, you gotta dig the philosophy, so open your mind real wide, little fella and suck it up:

I: My (and so your) philosophy:

Muslims adopt the term ‘Haya’ which for your purposes we can translate as bashfulness, decency, diffidence, honour, humility, inhibition, modesty, self-respect, shame, shyness, timidity. It’s an Arabic word that means ‘natural or inherent, shyness and a sense of modesty’

Haya encourages Muslims to avoid anything considered to be distasteful or abominable. The haya that every human being is born with is seen as something to be treasured.

To this end Islam has a dress code for both women and men.

Its purpose is to protect our society as a whole and promote modest dressing and behaviour. It allows us to conduct our lives with modesty, dignity and respect.

Your loving wife, as my white trash fuck-pig is not permitted ‘haya’, or more accurately, its ‘haya’ will be its sacrifice for my amusement.

It will never, ever consider its bashfulness, decency, diffidence, honour, humility, inhibition, modesty, self-respect, shame, shyness or timidity as relevant over my commands.

Well, I’ve kept that nice and simple… short too; try and keep up, little fella!

Next let’s have a look at how your darling sammich maker is gonna dress to earn my big cock!

II: Your wife’s dress code as my white trash fuck-pig:

a)General concepts:

Islam holds women in very high esteem and the Islamic rules of covering are intended to protect and guard her dignity and honour.

Your loving wife is not to consider itself a woman when serving me; it is my white trash fuck-pig, and so the dress code we apply to women to protect their dignity, will be reversed for it as my white trash fuck-pig.

The word used most often in regard to covering is hijab. Below are the most well-known sayings concerning the subject of hijab;

‘Tell your wives and your daughters and the women of the tekirdağ escort believers to draw their cloaks (veils) all over their bodies. That will be better, that they should be known (as free respectable women) so as not to be annoyed.’

And…

‘Say to the believing women that they should lower their gaze and protect their private parts (from sins); and they should not display their beauty and ornaments except what appear thereof…’

So, as the opposite of a respectable woman; a white trash fuck-pig, we need to invert these sayings to apply them to you:

‘Tell your white trash fuck-pig to unveil its body. That will be better, that it should be known (as a white trash fuck-pig) to be used and abused for my amusement… thereof.’

And…

‘Say to the white trash fuck-pig that it should gaze admiringly and display its private parts and should display its beauty and ornaments to objectify itself sexually.’

Okay, again; nice, simple and short; probably like you see your darling sammich maker. Let’s see how these general concepts apply to you dressing your wife to be my white trash fuck-pig:

b) Particulars of its dress code:

1. For women: The hijab (covering) must conceal the entire body except the face and the hands.

So, for your loving wife as my white trash fuck-pig: It’s covering must give access to the entire body, including face and hands.

So, when you’re helping it get ready for its time with me, it’s face had better be uncovered; I want the world to know your wife is my white trash fuck-pig.

But, besides that, there should be no part of your darling sammich maker’s body I can’t immediately access, so you’re gonna have to think this through, little fella:

There’s obvious things like no panties or bras of course.

But what if I want to shove my finger up your loving wife’s ass when you drop her off? Yeah, that skirt better be short enough to give me full access, little fella.

And don’t forget the less obvious areas; what if I want to fuck her arm-pit? No sleeves, eh?

You getting it yet, little fella?

I mean, I don’t wanna stifle your creativity, but ya gotta think these things through. Like shoes; it just ain’t gonna be wearing any.

Anyway, just think it over and try your best. I’ll only bitch-slap you for each thing ya get wrong; to help ya learn, ya understand!

2. For women: It should not be translucent or tight. Tight clothes, even if they conceal the colour of the skin, still describe the size and shape of the body or part of it, and create vivid images.

So, for your loving wife as my white trash fuck-pig: It should only wear translucent or tight clothing. It should reveal as much skin as possible, regardless of weather, and display its size and shape of its body to objectify it as a sex object.

Alrighty then; taking this rule alongside your first one; your darling sammich maker’s basically gonna be in a bikini top and a tight mini-skirt as far as I can see.

But feel free to vary in accordance with the rules; variety is the spice of life, little fella, and I’ll just bitch-slap you if you get it wrong!

3. For women: It should not attract the attention of the opposite gender; thus, it should not be extravagant or excessively opulent. Nor should jewellery and makeup be on display.

So, for your loving wife as my white trash fuck-pig: It should ensure it attracts the attention of the opposite gender as a sexualised object. It should present as extravagant and excessively opulent. It should display excessive jewellery, piercings and make-up.

You’re gonna have to help your darling sammich maker to talk loud and dumb. Those skimpy outfits should be luminous pink or other gawdy colours.

Take it to get pierced; everywhere; pussy, nipples, belly button. Use rhinestones they look sparkly and help with your darling sammich maker’s fuck-pig bimbo presentation. You can get butt-plugs that light up; think blue-sky, little fella; I wanna see your wife presented to amuse me by her degrading presentation.

I’ll add here too, for the sake of completeness; get your wife tattooed regularly; begin with my initials ‘WG’ and move on to ‘fuck-pig’ ‘SLUT’ etc. I’m not too fussy as long as they’re demeaning and make me laugh!

4. For women: tokat escort It should not be a garment worn because of vanity or to gain popularity or fame.

So, for your loving wife as my white trash fuck-pig: It should dress to be sexually objectified.

The point here is for you to help your darling sammich maker understand she’s not being the sexless frump you married, but is performing purely as an object for my amusement and sexual gratification.

One way of looking at it is for you both to think of your darling sammich maker as having different levels:

It has a body: Adorned, displayed and presented for my amusement and pleasure. Well done, little fella.

It has a mind: That’s for you to bother with, little fella. You’re the hubbs Mcgubbs. Why the fuck would I want to hear its opinions and thoughts? Teach it to keep those precious thoughts all for you, hubbs mcgubbs.

It has feelings: Again, not interested. You tend to those too, hubbs mcgubbs; I’m sure your darling sammich maker will find some of the submissive shit I make it do quite trying, so you’ll be doing a great job being there as a shoulder for it to cry on.

5. For women: It should not be perfumed. This prohibition applies to both the body and the clothes.

So, for your loving wife as my white trash fuck-pig: It should oil its displayed flesh and wear excessive perfume to attract sexual attention.

Yeah, so as well as the skimpy outfit, ya might wanna oil the fuck-pig up before ya dress it. Feel free to use glitter oil; the more like a ridiculous sex object it looks, the happier I’ll be with you and your darling sammich maker; Happy me = less bitch-slaps for you!

Alrighty then; so that’s your wife’s dress code explained for ya; as long as you help your darling sammich maker turn up with most of her flesh bared, oiled, perfumed and have her only act as an objectified, bimbo fuck-pig, you can consider yourself bitch-slap free!

… Well, maybe just one or two to help ya know ya place!

III: Rules for your wife (my white trash fuck-pig)

Your role here, white boi cucky, is to help your darling sammich maker understand that the dynamics of pig trainer: fuck pig are not the same as sammich maker: hubbs mcgubbs.

It’s 1st rule as my fuck-pig is: It is responsible for what I do.

Ya need to help your wife understand that what she does causes reactions in me, which are her responsibility. This ain’t like your allegedly ‘equal’ marriage of respecting each other, it’s about your wife approaching her pig-trainer with awe and respect, and me approaching you and your wife with contempt.

I’ll give ya a couple of examples to help ya out, little fella:

Okay, let’s say you manage to get your darling sammich maker to me on time and dressed in a luminous pink bikini top and a ridiculously short pink tutu skirt. Other than that, your wife’s naked; no shoes, every inch of her exposed flesh glistening in oil and glitter, dripping perfume, her face made-up like a whore and her body decorated with rhinestone piercings, gawdy bracelets, armlets and anklets, and she greets me by lifting up the hem of her tutu to display her shaved cock-socket.

Well, now: I’m a happy pig-trainer. Ya should be proud little fella. As it’s done well and managed to follow the dress code, I respond favourably; instead of punishing the fuck-pig I might shove a finger up its oiled ass and spit in its mouth… ‘cos I’m generous like that.

So, you can fuck off and me and the fuck-pig go for a drink. We’re sitting at the bar and I’ve ordered your wife to splay its thighs and I’m fingering its desperate cock-socket when a prettier woman walks by in a short-skirt and I wolf-whistle at her.

Now, if you did that your darling sammich maker might be hurt, upset, think your behaviour was inappropriate. So, what’s different here, little fella? No? Okay, I’ll help ya out:

Remember the different levels of the sammich maker? I don’t care about its feelings or its thoughts, so they really shouldn’t come into it. You’ve got to help your wife learn to offer her body unconditionally without the emotional and mental crap you suffer as her hubbs mcgubbs. It’s really in her best interest, little fella:

Imagine if she closed her splayed thighs without permission just because the prettier trabzon escort woman came across. Yeah, I know; probably make the sentence fit the crime and make her bring herself off with a bottle while the prettier woman laughs at her.

Ya getting it: the fuck-pig is responsible for what I do.

If instead, when the prettier woman came over, your darling sammich maker kept her oily thighs spread wide and greeted the woman with a perky “Hi! I’m a fuck-pig please hate me!” then I’d be all happy and not punish your wife at all. Rule number 1: the fuck-pig is responsible for what I do.

Its 2nd rule as my fuck-pig is: It saying no to me is a hate crime.

Nice and simple, but I’ll explain it for ya; we don’t want ya getting bitch-slapped into next week now, do we, little fella?

Remember my relationship as pig-trainer: fuck-pig doesn’t extend to your wife’s feelings and thoughts. All your darling sammich maker has to do is to prioritise my orders over her own dignity, self-esteem, preferences etc. Remember the philosophy part of your training, little fella; your wife when she’s my fuck-pig has no rights to bashfulness, decency, diffidence, honour, humility, inhibition, modesty, self-respect, shame, shyness, timidity.

Help your darling wife to understand she must simply obey without question.

As an example: Some of my female friends will likely hate your wife for presenting as a white-trash fuck-pig and so naturally will want to vent their contempt. That’s fine; it’ll amuse me too, but say my friends want to bite off your wife’s nipple. Regardless of whether my friends do or not, you need to ensure your wife would respond by enthusiastically offering her nipple to my friends. It’s not just never saying no; it’s actively trying to help things along. Help your wife understand a fuck-pig should be useful as well as compliant.

Its 3rd rule as my fuck-pig is: It speaking for itself is exclusionary and selfish.

Now that’s not to say fuck-pig can’t talk, ya gotta grasp the subtleties here, little fella!

What ya got to help your darling sammich maker understand is it can speak, but only to further the purposes of objectifying, humiliating or degrading itself.

So, nobody wants to hear her opinions… well, except you hubbs mcgubbs… or her needs or preferences, but we might enjoy those same things if they are expressed to objectify, humiliate and degrade the fuck-pig.

A couple of examples to help you along:

Say the white trash fuck-pig has a bladder full to near bursting. If it was out with you it might say “Excuse me, I’m just popping to the ladies.”

Where as, if it was out with me it might say “Oink oink! Piggy needs a pissy. Shall I fill a glass and then drink it?”

Or, say we’re out having a drink. If it was out with you and there was a quiet moment, it might start expressing an opinion or an observation.

Where as, if it was out with me it might bend down, lay its bare breast on the table and punch it as hard as it can to amuse me.

It’s 4th rule as my fuck-pig is: going around being female AT men by menstruating and breast-feeding babies deserve punishment.

Your darling sammich maker has all the time with you to be female AT you, after all you married it and wanted to indulge its feelings and thoughts. Just make sure all that crap is out of the fuck-pigs mind when it serves me. Nuff said!

It’s 5th rule as my fuck-pig is: It should always be grateful to me for everything.

Attitude is everything; anyone’ll tell ya that, little fella!

Make sure your wife practices being bright, smiley, perky and super-enthusiastic for when it’s around me. You can help her out by pinching her nipples and helping her to take the pain with a smile and a ‘thank you’ instead of squealing or grimacing.

Other examples will come to mind, I’m sure!

Well, you’ve done well, little fella; you’ve learnt the philosophy, the dress code and the rules that’ll help your darling sammich maker be the best white trash fuck-pig she can be!

We’ll leave it there for now, no doubt if your wife’s heard you read this out she’ll be dripping like a rapist on a dance-floor, so you might want to fuck her so she can imagine how much pleasure she’ll get when she’s fucked like a fuck-pig by a real man!

And don’t worry if you read this and found it isn’t for you; that you thought ‘my wife isn’t like that; she doesn’t fantasize about being treated like a fuck-pig and fucked so she can feel the hate… no, my loving wife isn’t like that at all, no siree Bob… no, don’t worry about it, little fella, just put this all down as nonsense and enjoy the blandness of your insipid weekly sympathy fuck, my friend.

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It is a standing joke at all nail salons. A woman that has nine long fingernails and one trimmed short is for-sure into prostate massaging her husband. I decided to go one step further. I went and enrolled Bob at the local community college in a six-week course for manicure and pedicure. from that day on, Bob and only Bob manicured my nails. After peeing in his mouth, we’d sit – both totally naked, of course – and chat while Bob did my nails. It was always perfect. After all, one or more of my fingers would be entering his tight ass and massaging his prostate. It was in Bob’s best interest that my nails always be short and smooth.

By now Bob and my stepdaughter were dating seriously so most of our time was devoted to talking about mother-daughter intimacies and about what to expect sexually from married life. Since it was my first and Joel’s third marriage, there was little I could offer in terms of pregnancy care: I cannot have children. But there are things a woman can do to keep her husband aroused. And there are things a man does to subdue a woman’s libido, so she has to look elsewhere.

My thoughts drifted. “Sara, is this fine?” I heard Bob say. I looked up and realized I had been staring at his lovely penis, throbbing wildly. I had observed his tiny pee hole dilate with desire, pre-cum flowing easily. Bob had been bursa escort doing my nails all along.

“Bob, sweetie, please trim this one really short and extra-smooth,” raising my left pinky.

Bob complied, even though it was already short and smooth enough.

I had him lie on his back, legs wide apart and raised up high, ankles on my shoulders. For the first time in our entire affair, I started to touch his lovely penis. The first time ever. Just the tip. Only with my left pinky. And whispering over and over again,

“MY little pussy wants to get fucked.

And YOUR little pussy wants to get fucked.

And MY little pussy wants to get fucked.

And YOUR little pussy wants to get fucked.

And MY little pussy wants to get fucked.

And YOUR little pussy wants to get fucked.

With every line, the tip of my left pinky would press onto his tiny, cute pee hole. Just teasing it. Pressing and teasing; pressing and teasing. Pressing and teasing while repeating the lines.

Bob was strangely quiet. And motionless. His pupils were dilating. He even seemed to stop breathing. Reminded me of my first date at the movies when the boy first put his arm around my shoulder and reached into my training bra and I froze solid. Bob was just çanakkale escort as frozen solid. Only his pre-cum flow told me he was very much alive.

And MY little pussy wants to get fucked.

And YOUR little pussy wants to get fucked.

Without warning nor a moment’s hesitation I pushed my left pinky INTO his pee hole.

And it opened up for me!

Just like that!

I was inside his pee hole!

Bob, I love you so much, darling!

He was shocked. I was shocked. He didn’t know what happened. I didn’t knowhow it happened. I helped him raise his head a bit so he could see my pinky inside his pee hole! It felt so good! Tight and wet and firm and smooth and slippery!

For the better part of an hour I finger-fucked Bob’s pee hole in every imaginable way. Shallow penetrations, long penetrations, deep movements, easy movements, everything and every way we could think of. More than once I sensed he wanted to cum but I was not quite ready yet. The mini remote on my wrist worked perfectly. I set it to Prevent mode and went on and on and on finger fucking his gorgeous pee hole!

I had to pee and did not want to lose my place. Without taking out my pinky, I swung around, placed myself over his mouth, and peed all I had, my pinky rize escort still inside his pee hole. The nicest pee I remember ever having!

All good things must come to an end if we want them to happen again. Without telling him, I flicked the mini remote to Turbo Wild.

Bob’s body entered massive convulsions and contractions!

From the depths of his ass his prostate was commanding a major, big-time, out-of-this-world orgasm!

And my pinky was all the way in to the hilt into his urethra!

Plugging it up!

I let my pinky out about a tenth of an inch.

What an explosion!

Even though I was squatting upright and he was lying down, his torrent went way over my head!

And how much!

Gobs and gobs and gobs of cum all over the place!

While he panted I scooped up some of them and slipped them into his mouth. Men usually do not appreciate the delicacy of their cum but on this occasion Bob knew he had put on a masterful performance.

I lay down next to him. Cradling his still-shaking body I held him close, his handsome face upon my chest, his mouth barely starting to nibble on my tiny, rock-hard nipple before he collapsed from sheer exhaustion.

I let him fall asleep. Gently extricating myself from his grip, I tiptoed across the room to tell Joel I would not be home tonight, explaining briefly what I’d just done for MY pleasure with Bob.

And then…

I picked up the phone again.

Only this time to call Bob’s two shemale friends.

My stepdaughter Blanca would have to wait. There was much more to Bob before he could resume courting her to woo her and wed my stepdaughter.

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Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

My wife went to work and I decided to stick around the house and lounge today. Spring time in Las Vegas is the best weather, the heat isn’t stifling yet.

My name is Michael. I’m 5’11” and weight of 155lbs. I am fairly hairless and have soft features, especially with my longer styled red hair. I am in sales which allows for some flexible hours that often offer me too much freedom for my mind to wonder. My wife Kelly is Asian, 5’2″, dark hair, dark dreamy eyes, and is a trainer and nutritionist at a local posh gym.

As soon as her car pulled out of the driveway I went into our bedroom, to use our bathroom, before I did a few chores, my wife had left her clothes on the bathroom floor. I picked them up to take them to the laundry basket when I felt her silky panties in my hand. My cock went straight up. I brought them to my face and inhaled her sweet scent. I slipped out of my clothes and pulled her panties on. I have played this game before.

I dress up in my wife’s clothes and pretend to be her slut. Of course I only fit in her bras and panties. I clasped her bra and slipped it over my head and shimmied my way into it. I gently touched the tip of my nipples through the lacy material and felt them get instantly hard. I pinched each one and moaned as my cock twitched in her panties. I wanted to stop this obsession of mine. I told myself to stop. But once I feel the feminine lace and silk against my body I’ve lost the battle.

I pulled off her clothes as I walked out our bedroom sliding door, which leads out to our secluded backyard and pool. I dove into the water and let the cool water reduce my sex drive. I swam a few laps to burn off this urge. The morning sun began to heat up as I let it soak into my naked body. My cock hardened again and whipped back and forth as I swam across the pool. This only made matters worse for me.

I got out of the pool and went back to the bathroom to shower. I grabbed my wife’s perfumed soap and started to scrub my body. The feminine smell was making me harder. My soapy hands caressed my nipples. My head went back as I continued to gently rub my nipples. I reached back to my ass and slipped my soapy finger into my rosebud, “Oh you like that don’t you slut?” I whispered to myself.

Before I could stop myself I already had her shaver in my hand and was gliding it up my leg. I was removing the sparse hairs that grew sporadically up and down my legs. I continued up and shaved my balls and above my cock. I bent over and slid the razor between my ass cheeks, clearing the hair there as well. My chest only had a couple of stray hairs by each nipple that were gone with one swipe. I lifted my arms and took off the thickest patches I had on my body, and that only took a few strokes.

I poured a handful of soap in my hand and gave my body a nice scent of rose peddles. I felt feminine and clean, almost. We have an enema wand attached to our shower nozzle hanging in the shower that my wife uses when we engage in anal sex which she loves. I grabbed the wand and got down on all fours. I reached back and inserted the hose into my ass. I wiggled my ass and enjoyed the small intrusion. The hose had a shut off valve about half way up the shaft. I reached back and released the flow. I leaned my head forward and let my bowels flush out. I had taken the drain cover off already so the waste went right down the sewer.

I felt clean on the inside and out. I dried off and began the process of becoming a slut. I went to my wife’s dresser and pulled out a pair of nylons with the garter belt and a black lace panty and bra set. I put the bra and panties on first, then I sat on the edge of the bed and pulled one of the nylons onto my hand and scrunched it up, then I put my toes in and dragged the soft silky nylon up my clean shaven leg. I did the same with the other nylon. I slipped the belt on and snapped the tops of the nylons in place. I felt so sexy.

I then went to our closet to pull out our toy box. My hands begin to shake with anticipation as I opened the lid. I pulled out my favorite 8″ thruster dildo. This dildo is great because once inside you can turn it on and it vibrates and actually extends and retracts inside of you giving the thrusting feeling of being fucked. I grabbed the anal cream that goes in the anal canal to desensitize you, and the other bottle of lube that makes it slide in nice and easy. Then I picked up the life like 7″ dildo and head to the bed.

I grab my towel off the floor and lay it out on the bed, draping it over the side. I pull the panties off, being sure to rub my hands up and down my legs at the same time. My cock is hard as a rock. Our closet doors are mirrored giving me a perfect view of what I’m about to do. I set up our video camera on the nightstand facing the mirror and turn it on. I stand in front of the mirror with the life like dildo. As I hold the cock up to my mouth I begin my show to myself as I imagine my wife being dominant and me being the submissive slut, “Look muğla escort at you all dressed up, like a slut that is dying to get fucked. Is that what my little slut wants? Now suck my my cock, I want you to get it all hard and wet.”

My body is on fire with desire. My knees are wobbly with anticipation. I slap the rubber cock against my lips and cheek “You want to suck his cock don’t you baby? You’re dressed like a slut, now suck cock like one. Take it in your mouth baby and show him how much you want his cock down your throat.”

I lick the head of the dildo. I let the saliva in my mouth begin to coat the cock as I work the first couple of inches in my mouth. I start pulling it in and out of my mouth, pushing it in more and more with each stroke. I’m able to go about four inches before I gag. I reach for my poppers and take a long hit in each nostril. My body burns, my nipples are hard as rocks. My desire to suck this cock is amplified by a thousand as I put it back in my mouth. I start to fuck my mouth again with the cock like dildo. The ridges and veins along the shaft are realistic as they protrude along the shaft of the cock. My tongue explores every inch of the cock in my mouth. I concentrate on breathing through my nose as the balls of the dildo slap my chin. All 7 inches are going down my throat. All captured on camera for me to watch later.

I wish I could hear my wife call me her little cock whore as she watches me get face fucked and take all 7 inches down my throat. I want to hear “That’s my little cock sucker. Get him nice and hard, show him how much you love having a cock in your mouth.”

I set the ‘cock’ down and move over to the towel on the bed. Still standing on the floor I bend over to the mirror and show my ass. I place a large dollop of the desensitizing cream on my finger and then I use the mirror to guide my finger to my tight puckered rosebud. I swirl around the soft tissue before I press my finger into my hole and feed it some cream. I make sure I get the cream all around as I twist my finger inside. I moan as the intrusion feels so good. Then I look in the mirror at myself and imagine her standing behind me, her breasts pressed against my back, a strapon pushing against my hole, her hot breath against my ear as she says ‘Is my cock sucking slut of a husband ready to get fucked? Ready for me to shove my cock in your tight pussy?’ I say this loud enough for the camera.

I take my fingers and circle my hard nipples through the black lace bra, the sensation is intense as I throw back my head “Oh baby fuck me with your big cock. Shove that big cock in my pussy. Show me you’re in control.”

I grabbed the thruster, greased it up, bent over the bed, with my ass facing the mirror, and started to push the big head into my pussy. I took another hit of poppers and my pussy opened up to allow entrance. I moaned as I fed all 8 inches of that cock into me.

‘”You like that don’t you slut? You want a cock in you so bad. Moan for me, show me how much you like it.” I said it out loud pretending to be my wife.

The camera was running and I was moaning and thrusting that cock in my ass. “Yes fuck me. Make me your bitch. Cram that big cock in my pussy.”

Then I flipped on the remote for the vibrator to begin working its magic. The dull humming started making me moan “Oh yes that feels so damn good.”

Then I flipped the other switch for the thrusting to start. I held the cock firmly in my ass as it began to retract and plunge into the depths of my ass “That’s it take that cock. You like getting fucked don’t you slut? Show me how much you love getting fucked.”

I began to moan loudly, my ass wiggled in the mirror as the thrusting and the vibration droned on. I took another hit of poppers and flipped both switches to the highest level. My head was spinning as the assault on my ass took over. My moans became deeper. I could barely hold the cock in my ass as the thruster was trying to force its way back out of my ass, “Oh god yes fuck me hard. I’m your fuck toy, fuck me hard. Shove that cock in my pussy. I love being your submissive slut. Uggghhhhh!!!” I screamed as my orgasm ran from my toes all the way out my cock. I shot my load against the side of the bed, that goodness I draped the towel over it.

As the orgasm subsided I switched off the toy and let it fall out of my pussy. I reached back and spread my ass to the mirror showing the camera my gaping hole of a pussy wide open.

I cleaned everything up and put things away. Over the next couple of weeks I jacked off to my slut video. I went on a last minute business trip for two days. I didn’t have time to get my SD card with my video on it so I just watched some sissy porn. I got home midafternoon and figured my wife would still be at work. I was surprised when I walked in the kitchen and she was standing at the stove cooking.

“Well this is a pleasant surprise Kel (short for Kelly).” ordu escort I walked up behind her and kissed the back of her neck which I know drives her nuts.

“Oh don’t go starting something Michael. I took the afternoon off to clean the house and make a real dinner for us. Go unpack and shower, by then dinner will be ready.” My wife was a hot number, at five two, one hundred forty pounds of pure muscle from working at a gym.

I’m a sales rep for a gym equipment manufacturer which is how I met my wife. I work from home when I’m not on the road visiting customers. My body is tight but no muscle mass. My skin is very pale with almost no hair except for the usual head, pits, and crotch. I have red hair, but not the nice deep red, the florescent red. If I put a yellow suit on with black shoes I would look like a number 2 pencil. I keep my crotch shaved clean because Kelly loves to suck my six inch by inch and a half round, (Ironically I have a pencil dick) cock, but hates hair in her mouth. She returns the favor by keeping her pussy clean as well. My nipples are a bit larger than the size of a quarter and very pink against my white almost ghost like skin, with my nipples a bit bigger than a pea and extremely hot wired.

I showered, threw on a pair of shorts and T-shirt and head back to the kitchen. Kelly made a great dinner. As we ate, drank wine, and chatted about our work week the wine kept flowing and my head was a little light. We got ready for bed and Kelly came out wearing a white lace pair of panties that were sexy as all get out and no bra. I stripped my clothes and hit the sheets naked, as usual. Kelly pulled me into a nice hug as her hands starting raking up and down my back as we kissed, “I miss you when you’re away on business trips. I enjoy our quiet time in bed at night.”

Kelly started kissing me, on the lips, down my neck, and back up the other side until she ran her tongue along my earlobe. I was moaning and squirming. “Oh god Kel that feels so good.”

“I love your body Michael, you smell and taste so good.” She continued exploring her way down my body stopping at my nipples. She flicked her tongue on my right nipple and a hissing sound came out as my back arched.

“I love how sensitive your nipples are, you start moaning like a slut. I love that.” She then started to suck and nibble on my tits. I was holding her head keeping her latched onto my nipples as my body gyrated on the bed and I did moan like a slut. My cock was hard as a rock and I already felt a drop of precum drip onto my stomach.

Kelly kissed her way down my stomach. I spread my legs wide, to allow her to lie between them, as she dragged her wet pussy over my cock. She licked the top of my cock then the shaft. “Nothing like a cock covered in fresh pussy juice. MMMM!” she purred.

Grasping my cock, she began to run her tongue all over my cock and balls. Her saliva was dripping between my legs. Her left hand slid under my ass and lifted it off the bed as she was fucking her mouth with my cock. Then I felt her thumb pressing against my asshole. Using her saliva as lubricant she massaged the opening. I began to move my hips and pressing back against her thumb using my body to beg her to enter. I was moaning like a slut for sure. “Looks like my little slut likes his ass played with as much as me. That is so HOT baby. You like your ass played with? Do you want me to fuck you with my finger slut?”

“Ya” I whispered as my body was convulsing.

“Ya? No baby, you have to tell me what you want. The more you tell me the more I do, and this is really turning me on. Tell me you little slut.” Kelly was massaging the entrance of my hole and driving me nuts. She keeps calling me her slut which is really turning me on.

“Yes Kel, push your finger in pleeeeaaase! Oh yes fuck me.” I couldn’t take it anymore I needed something inside.

I felt her finger press into my hole. My body naturally pushed against her finger letting it drive all the way in. I let out a long sigh. “Oh baby it is so soft and hot inside. No wonder you love to fuck my ass. This is so hot. It feels great doesn’t it baby? Getting fucked feels so good, tell me how good this feels. Tell me you want more. This is going to make me cum.”

“MMMM! Fuck me Kel. Fuck me harder. I’m going to shoot. Fuck your slut. Oh god yes.” My cock was jumping up and down on my stomach as my body would tense and relax. I could feel my cum boiling to the surface as Kelly’s finger massaged my prostate. This was so different than a dildo and so much better.

“You mean like this baby?” Kelly inserted another finger and started shoving them in fast and hard, the assault on my prostate was too much as my ass clinched her fingers so tight I swear I was going to snap them off.

“Oh yes slut try and fight me off. Fuck your ass is strong. Oh My God I’m cumming Michael. I’m fucking your ass and cumming with you. Shoot that load baby, show osmaniye escort me how you like getting fucked baby. UUGGGHHH!” Kelly shoved her fingers all the way in and froze as her body shook with her own orgasm. My cock jerked and shot past my head and onto the bed, then hit my lips with a large wad before that last three spirts hit my chest and then filled my belly button with the final dribbles.

Kelly pulled her fingers out and began to lick my cum up off my chest. As our bodies became prone she swiped her tongue across my chin to gather the last of my cum before she plunged her cum covered tongue into my mouth. The kiss was so passionate and I was still hard as a rock. The rest of my cum flowed from her mouth to mine as our tongues coated each other’s mouths with my cum.

“Fuck that was the best orgasm ever and we didn’t even touch each other’s cock and pussy. Fucking wild. Why has it taken us so long to figure this one out? Holy shit this was hot.” Kelly was still coming down off her orgasm.

She scooted her pussy over my still hard dripping cock and sat down on it, “Ummmm, that feels so fucking good. I’m going to ride this cock until it hurts.”

Kelly started to grind her pussy down on my cock. If she pushed any harder my balls would have gone up inside of her. I reached up and started to play with her tits. I wet my thumbs and started to slowly draw wet circles on her nipples which quickly became hard.

“That feels so good Michael, my tits are so sensitive. Pull on my nipples baby, pinch them. Oh god yes, work those titties baby, work them hard. Work them like I want to work that ass of yours. You’d like that wouldn’t you slut. You want me to fuck you again, HUH? Want me to take my dildo and fuck you like a little slut? OH GOD TWIST THEM HARD. AAGGHHHH!!!”

“Yes Kelly, get a big strapon and fuck your slut. Make me beg for that cock of yours. UGGGHHH!” I shot another load into my wife’s pussy and she came so hard she squirted all over my balls and down my ass soaking the bedspread.

“FUCK! My entire body is shaking. I’ve never come like that before. Looks like we have to change the bed before we can go to sleep.” We both laughed as she fell on top of me.

I rolled us both over so I was now on top. My shrinking cock, finally, slithered out of her drenched pussy. “You can change the linens while I clean up your pussy.” I pushed my body down and dove into her cum soaked pussy. I started lapping at her inner thighs. Her cum was sweet and salty, it tasted so good. Then I ran my tongue along her really swollen pussy lips. They were engorged and so fucking hot. I opened my mouth wide and covered her entire pussy. My tongue snaked in and started to pull out my cum. The combined taste was getting me hard again.

“Oh god Michael eat your cum baby. Oh you’re such a slut eating your own cum from my pussy. Yes, yes that’s it suck that cum out of my pussy. Eat it all up and show me what a good slut does.” She didn’t last long before she rocked another orgasm. We were both spent for the night. Fuck the bedding, we cuddled up and passed out.

Saturday morning we woke naked and crusty, both covered in dry cum. I told her I would stay home and do the laundry and mow the lawn if she went grocery shopping. It was a deal as we showered and began our day. Kelly said she would stop at the gym first to take care of a couple of things then do the shopping, should take her a couple of hours which was perfect for me to do my chores. I told her to pick up some food that we could grill outside sense it is such a great day.

As I stripped the bed I remembered our night of fucking. I pulled the bed cover to my face and inhaled the scent of pussy juice and cum and immediately got a hard on. I thought to myself I had better get these in the wash before I lose it and start jacking off. I threw them in the washer and went outside to mow the lawns. I was dripping in sweat as I emptied the last of the grass into the waste can. Just in time as Kelly pulled into the garage. “Hey lover, why don’t you give me a hand with these packages and then I’ll give you a hand with your package?” She winked as she got out of the car and popped open the trunk.

We grabbed a couple of bags each and headed into the house. Kelly dropped her bags off on the counter and ran down the hall with her purse still hanging off her shoulder, “Start putting things away, I gotta pee.”

I emptied the bags and started putting things away. Kelly came out and we finished up. Kelly came up to me and kissed me and then she licked my neck “I love your taste when you’re all sweaty, like sweet nectar. Let’s go out to the pool and relax the afternoon away, then we can bar-b-q the chicken breasts and grill the veggies for dinner?”

I agreed and headed to our room to change, “Where are you going?” I turned back to her and she lifted off her shirt and was shucking her shorts and panties at the same time. “We don’t need suits.” Then she threw her panties at my face. I caught them and inhaled her pussy scent.

Kelly smiled as she watched me smell her panties, “You’re such a slut. Now lose the shorts and let’s get out there.” Our backyard butted up against a nature preserve and the houses are angled in such that our backyard is totally private. We swam and lay out in the sun naked.

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Sometime after our new co-worker arrived at the office we started attending the house she rented in the neighborhood. The company headquarters sent her to fix some image problems created by the previous management and she was supposed to stay in the local branch for a few months, until her work was completed.

Andrea is an unmarried woman in her early forties, much on the liberated executive type, with no evident ties.

Her arrival set off a big commotion in the office as she gets everything it takes to arouse the male gender and never hesitates to use these attributes to maintain men orderly and disciplined around her. And she certainly knows how to do it effectively. She is a gorgeous brunette with a slender figure, wearing high heels and suggestive clothes, which enhance her curvaceous body, always dressing with impeccable taste. She has a seductive somewhat dominant attitude and a velvety hoarse and warm voice that leaves no man indifferent.

After some time in the office, our relationship was deepening and we started to attend her house, on the pretext of weekend dinners, birthday parties or any other excuse.

As we were getting at ease with each other, the conversations typically became refined and stimulating, as the mood got relaxed. It was not uncommon that the issues under discussion went beyond the threshold of intimacy of the participants, occasionally evolving to teasing innuendo.

During one of our most recent visits, the chat grew into hotter topics, as usually happened after a few drinks. My eyes alternated between Andrea’s gorgeous cleavage and her fabulous thighs, in a hypnotic movement that surely granted me a stupid look.

She was wearing a skin-tight gray sweater that brought out the charming swell of her breasts. And even if there was a bra holding them, which was the case (the seamless bra line was quite obvious), we could clearly notice the little bumps of her nipples, poking against the fabric. The black body-hugging skirt was sliding up, inch by inch, each time she shifted and crossed her shapely legs, revealing a bit more of flesh and allowing a glimpse at the black lace garters on the top of the stockings.

After a while, I was having serious trouble trying to conceal a ridiculous hard-on that began to form as the conversation progressed, becoming so evident that everyone would eventually notice. I was so embarrassed that I used the most ordinary excuse to leave the room, as fast as I could, and find a way to appease the wicked urge.

I instinctively walked to the bathroom, without a hint of how to ease the unwanted hard-on, considering that the most obvious way out seemed odd, at the moment. As I locked in, I felt a hurried need to relieve the increasing strain I brought from the living room, where I believe everybody should be now making playful remarks about the situation, which put me in an unpleasant mood.

In the privacy of the bathroom, however, a rewarding wank started to seem like a good way to get the urgent relief I needed so badly. Maybe I could even take an extra advantage of the therapy and burn up some of the booze that was blurring my judgment and disabling my self-control. On impulse I looked for something I could use to boost my wank session and the laundry basket came up, like a revelation. The anticipation of finding any piece of Andrea’s lingerie in the basket turned the whole thing in an exhilarating deed and made me shudder: an emergency incident was about to become a devout experience. Paradise could be just ahead.

And… yes, my wish came true: there was a set of white panties and a half-cup bra. Just perfect: embroidered lace on soft white cotton. I couldn’t have asked for anything better. My heart rate suddenly sped up as I reclaimed the unexpected award. I was in bliss.

By then, I had already lost the slightest concern about my return to the living room, where my host and the other guests would be likely to make teasing speculations about my delay. Nothing mattered to me anymore. I felt blissful and aware that I was on the verge of a unique and transcendent experience, a male celebration of female supremacy, ecstatic before her charms, grateful for her gift, blessed by her vicinity, surrendered unconditionally to her will, in a worship ritual by way of a major symbol of her womanliness and erotic essence: her lingerie.

My penis pulled off an uncommon vigor as I picked up the bra from the laundry basket, growing madly under my pants, challenging the fabric integrity, already stretched to its limit. My mind went on displaying recurrent images of Andrea’s breasts, bulging under the tight sweater, her nipples poking beneath the bra and the jersey cloth, defying the resistance of both.

I devotedly took the bra to my nose, breathed in and instantly recognized the delicate scent of her body, a whiff so dear to me. Then, I gently wrapped my penis in the bra straps and began bilecik escort to squeeze it slightly by pulling the ends, the glans restless inside one of the cups, smoothly rubbing it against the soft fabric.

Meanwhile, I took the panties from the hamper and started to wet the gusset with my tongue, licking it gently in long and slow strokes, at first, and sucking it eagerly, later on, tasting the flavors let loose by the moisture as the fabric got drenched and began to release the exquisite essence of the juices gathered there, a luscious blend of vaginal lubricant and urine, a subtle and unique combination of genius. The musky scent and the bittersweet flavor seemed to me like the quintessence of delight, the ultimate indulgence. That was paradise.

So I had this sudden vision of Andrea entering the bathroom, at this very moment, (how I wished it was for real!…) catching me red-handed and oblivious, totally helpless and unable to respond, profaning her intimacy without a shred of excuse or regret, longing for the most ruthless punishment I could deserve. I was staging my ultimate fantasy.

These thoughts may have rushed the final ecstasy and, suddenly, a violent shiver ran through my body and all the craving was focused in one single spot: my swollen penis, almost aching, the shining red glans throbbing, about to burst, which I kept frantically rubbing in harsh strokes, against the silky fabric of the bra cup.

Every muscle in my body stiffened while a massive orgasm began to grow in my balls. My eyes rolled up in their sockets when, finally, my cock burst, spitting out a few spurts of sperm that flooded the bra cup, as I finally swallowed the precious blend of delicate flavors stored in my mouth, drained from the panties during the worship ritual.

I came down to earth with a slight knock on the bathroom door and Andrea’s voice whispering from the outside:

– Still jerking off? Take your time! Our friends have already left. You can use my dirty underwear but make sure you clean your mess in the end, ok? If you need some Kleenex, or something to clean up with, you can find it in the top shelf of the cabinet.

I was appalled. Was it that obvious that I needed a wank so desperately? Where the hell would I find the guts to get out of the bathroom and face her, after this? At this point she must be thinking I’m a freak. And she’s right! What kind of weirdo goes to his friend’s home and locks himself in the bathroom masturbating to her bra? What kind of pervert will she take me for?

After a few seconds she insisted, trying to make me comfortable:

– Don’t worry, ok? I totally understand your rush. I’m not innocent. I can easily tell a masturbator when I see one. It’s no big deal. I’m used to it, believe me, she said, in a mockery tone.

I was completely embarrassed and having serious trouble to find the right words to deal with the awkward situation. I was speechless. But, in a strange way, I felt invaded by an odd sensation of intimacy with her, as it never happened before nor I would imagine possible. In fact, I always thought of her as someone unattainable who would never see me as worthy of her sexual benefits. Not in a million years. I wouldn’t dare to imagine her as a sexual partner, even in my wildest dreams. She was definitely out of my league.

– Come out when you’re ready, she insisted. I guess we must take care of this tiny weakness of yours. I think you’re becoming addicted to your little habit, aren’t you? We must do something about it, she said, giving a little laugh.

I rushed out of the bathroom the minute I could, after putting back her lingerie in a hurry. I felt in a state of deep humiliation but, strangely, this was turning into a very rewarding feeling. I was taking an immense gratification from the humiliation I was subjected to. And this was completely new to me.

When I returned to the living room she was already alone and waiting for me with a roguish smile. She winked at me while pointing the chair in front of her, telling me to sit.

– Don’t take it the wrong way! It was just a prank. If you must know, it was my idea to tease you. We agreed that I’d give you a generous view of my breasts and let my skirt rise far beyond my knees. Soon we were taking bets on how long would you be able to hold out before giving in to the urge of rubbing one off.

– You were taking bets? I asked outraged.

– Yes. I hope you don’t get mad. I’m good with it and trust you feel at ease, too. Honestly!

– You knew I was going to? I blurted out, incredulously.

– You’re kidding, right? Nobody in the room had any doubt about it. You behave like a regular masturbator. We could drown in your drool when you started to play dumb, staring at me. You don’t believe, for sure, that your getaways to the bathroom will pass unnoticed, right? She mocked.

I manisa escort was devastated. Where would I find the nerve to appear before my friends after this humiliation? I felt mortified.

– I’m so sorry, I muttered in absolute despair.

– Snap out of it. In fact I had already wagered with them about me being probably the most “tributed” person among our friends.

– What do you mean? I don’t get it! I said, uncomfortable.

– You don’t pretend being the only person to masturbate thinking about me, do you? How do you think I manage to spot a masturbator, so easily? I spend my days doing it, for my sins. Sometimes I wish a real man could show up from among all you pathetic wankers, once and for all.

My shame grew as she kept on. She was now very upset. The sense of flattery had been replaced by contempt, as she regretted the lack of manhood around her.

– There are some advantages you must notice: an idolater is willing to do anything to please the object of his worship: absolute submission, total surrender, far beyond the mere sexual satisfaction. Does it mean anything to you?

– It depends on how desperately I crave for a real cock inside me, she retorted harshly. I’m fed-up with platonic devoted fans, useless to satisfy my needs. Let’s be honest: you never really wanted to fuck me, did you? You just expect to seize an everyday bra or a pair of panties and jerk off, the first chance you get. That’s how high your expectations rise, as far as I’m concerned, right? I’m not supposed to be a sex partner but just your fetish supplier, isn’t that it?

– No. That’s not just it. It’s the humiliation that comes along, which turns me on, enormously. It’s the common feeling of not being worthy of your benefits, always granted to others, providing delights never consented to me. I got used to pull satisfaction out of your lack of interest. Your coldness burns me and I learned to take an extreme pleasure out of that indifference, I stated.

– But that’s insane. No one can survive that without serious damage to his sexual life. I refuse to be an accessory to that, she remarked, aggravated.

– But that’s exactly what it is. That’s the only thing that is not under your control: my decision to submit to you, devotedly and unconditionally. That’s where I find pure bliss.

– What the fuck! Why can’t you behave like any other normal guy? Fancy me and try to get me into the sack, as any other horny male would do?

– Let’s face it, Andrea! You’re way out of my reach. How do you expect me to even dare? Would you ever let me touch you? And I’m not complaining because I’m fully aware that I don’t deserve more than wish for what I’ll never get. Fondle your tempting breasts? Caress your thighs or kiss you between your legs? You’d never allow it, no matter how I beg, although you keep teasing me all the time. So, what’s left for me? Fantasize over you, hold on to that thought and masturbate to it, like crazy, every time I get the chance. Would you blame me for doing everything in my power to make my fantasy as real as possible? Can you imagine something higher than grab your bra and bring it into play to arouse my vision of me playing your breasts? Or suck your worn panties and imagine I’m licking your cunt?

Suddenly, her expression became roguish. She stopped her angry speech and asked, point-blank:

– And exactly how far would you be willing to go with me? I may — just may! — consider the possibility, you know? Now I’m making it just depend on your guts. I put it in your hands, entirely. Just how much would you dare? She asked with a sudden interest.

At this time, curiosity overcame the resentment and her concern became obvious. Somehow, she had been seized by the underlying thrill of becoming the owner of my will, an unexpected elation ensuing from the idea of an absolute supremacy over someone who accepts unconditionally surrender to her domination. And the expression on her face made the emotion appear so clearly.

Maybe this was the right opportunity for taking all risks. This could be the moment to bet everything, despite the remote likelihood of realizing my fantasy. It was the time to move forward, decisively.

– I’ll go willingly, just as far as you demand. Whatever you fancy, I’ll do it without hesitation, I stated with assent.

– Somehow I don’t think so. I can be very creative, you know? I’m a moody person, as you well know. Are you sure you want to go on with this? She asked with a naughty accent.

– As you well know, a submissive person is able to handle all this with absolute acceptance, which is, incidentally, the primary source of sexual gratification, I declared with total conviction.

– Very well! I’m convinced. Let me think of something truly bizarre. Would you, by any chance, let me pee on you?

– You don’t ask for permission. mersin escort You command. You require that I’m there for you, whenever you feel like it, taking your pee all over me and be grateful for that. In fact, I’ll do better than that: I will take it in my mouth and drink it with the utmost pleasure to the last drop.

– Holy shit! You can’t be serious, right? I was just kidding; I suggested the weirdest thing that came into my mind but never thought that you would take it seriously. Not in a million years. Are you really serious about that crazy idea of me peeing on you? I’ll be damned! And you must be out of your mind.

– Dead serious. Take my word for it. I can prove it to you right now. Just say it.

– This can’t be true. I don’t believe this is happening to me. Would you, really?

– Try me! I dared.

And saying this, I was trembling, from head to toe, facing at last the chance to carry out the fantasy I cherished for so many years. I felt a little dizzy, like I was outside myself looking at the staging that was about to be held. I couldn’t believe what was happening.

– Now, there’s something I didn’t expect from you. Are you really into that kind of kinky stuff or are you just trying to make an impression? I confess I couldn’t see you as a common pervert, degrading yourself in exchange for brief satisfaction. Do you really fancy abuse and humiliation?

– That’s not it, I mumbled in shame. I yearn for being dominated by you and feel capable of submitting to your whims, no matter how odd they may be. Total surrender, that’s what grants supreme pleasure to me.

– But… being peed on? Drinking wee? I’m appalled! I just suggested something that came to my mind and I believe that would be unacceptable to you, something you would absolutely refuse to do. I’m shocked!

– You didn’t really get it, did you? It doesn’t matter. It’s my benefit if you’re willing to share something so personal with me. It’s your pee we’re talking about, something that comes out of your dearest insides, which I cherish so much. You’re a princess and it’s my privilege if you let me prove my devotion to you. It may seem you’re abusing me but we’ll both know, in our hearts, I’m being granted your deepest intimacy. Indulge me. Honor me, please, I beg you.

The earlier expression of flattery returned to her face. She was clearly impressed and pleased with the honesty of my yield. It was noticeable the whirlwind of thoughts crossing her mind. At that very moment she was conquered by the world of possibilities unleashed by that confession. She finally realized my irrevocable bound to any wish that she could devise and let herself intoxicate, for a moment, with this unexpected feeling of absolute power over someone’s will.

Without saying a word, Andrea pointed out the kitchen and ordered me to strip. Then she handed me a white rug and told me to lay it on the kitchen floor.

Obeying her instructions, I started to undress and headed to the designated place, where — all led to believe — I was about to take my first golden shower. My hands were shaking so much that simple tasks like unbutton my shirt or open the zipper of my jeans became almost impossible. When I finally managed to pull down my pants, she couldn’t help noticing the raging hard-on under my briefs.

– I really can’t believe it. How can you be in that state of arousal, only a few minutes after you jerked off? How is it possible? Didn’t you come when you took that wank in the bathroom, just a while ago? Honestly! You turned out to be quite a masturbator! Leave your briefs on. I want to check when your cock will tear the fabric, she said in a playful manner.

At this stage I could hardly hold the foretold outburst. It seemed I was returning to my boyhood when I could easily reach orgasm without touching my cock. It has been quite a while since I wasn’t that horny.

Lying on the carpet, as instructed, my position unveiled a huge erection that made my briefs look like a tent, with a stiff pole stretching the cloth. Strained against the fabric, the throbbing head of my cock started to leak an unusual quantity of precum and a transparent stain spread throughout my briefs, revealing the purple color of my glans about to burst, underneath. The gooey stuff ran through the fabric and gathered in both groins, making small puddles. Never before — nor even in my wildest jerk off sessions — had I been able to produce such a huge amount of that tasty precum I use to lick from my fingers while I masturbate.

She didn’t miss a single detail of what was going on, quietly lying back in a big chair, by the fire. Lazily, Andrea started to give a slight massage on her crotch, while drinking a large glass of orange juice. As if she could read my thoughts, she ordered:

– Get rid of that filthy goo, will you? I want you to remove all that slime from your underpants — and your groins, I believe — and lick it all from your fingers.

I guess she was getting the hang of it, fast. The first try was very convincing. I hurried up to accomplish her command, concealing my great pleasure in fulfilling the order, contrary to what she expected. I wish I had so much precum available during my regular masturbation sessions.