Let me paint a picture for you. I’m five-foot-four, which I adamantly argue is average. I have long, wavy, brown hair with strong hints of red and gold. In the winter when it darkens, I’ve been told it’s “chestnut.” My eyes are very green. While I’m average height, I’m above average weight, with curves in all the right places and some of the “wrong” ones! I’m about a size 16, 18 in some stores.
My torso is petite, considerably slimmer than my hips and very short in comparison with my legs, which are quite long. I have smallish hands, fingers, wrists and shoulders, thick thighs, anda rounded, bulbous ass.
My toenails are always painted, usually a bright color. I keep my fingernails painted with clear polish. My legs are shaved, as is my pussy – fully smooth. My breasts are small, just a handful each, well-shaped and fairly high – 38B. I have medium-pink areola and very responsive nipples.
My brows and lashes are black. I wear natural-looking makeup most days, including light lipstick, but I rarely make-up my eyes, though I often curl my lashes. When I remember to, I wear glasses – my favorites are rimless with green-tinted metal in a curvy pattern tucking them behind my ears.
My teeth are almost perfectly straight. My lips are not overly large but full, slightly pouty and naturally pink. My upper lip curves upward, and my nose has an upward tilt. My cheekbones are fairly high. I have a light dusting of freckles across my nose and forehead that you’d only notice from close proximity. My shoulders, however, are noticeably coated in freckles.
Puberty was rough looks-wise. My hair was frizzy, my breasts seemed destined to maintain a triangular shape for life, and my curves were embarrassing. As I grew up, I grew to like my appearance more. I’ve developed the opinion that a woman of thirty or forty has a beauty about her that a girl of eighteen or twenty has yet to develop. I don’t yet look over thirty, according to most, though on days when I’m tired, my age shows more.
I want you to have an image of me, the woman in this story, as I describe the man and our interactions. At the time of this story, he was 19. I am eleven years his senior. Though I rarely saw him fully dressed, I know he usually wore loose jeans with a belt clasped with a hefty, decorative buckle, usually with a buttoned shirt or tee over a “wife beater.”
While I have years on him, he has inches on me. He’s 6′-6″ tall without shoes. His hair is black, wavy and sometimes unruly. He has a soft gotee and mustache surrounding the softest, most delectable mouth I’ve ever seen on a man. I loved the way his mustache felt when we kissed. His lips are full and pink. His face is long. His eyes are a deep, dark, chocolate brown and turn down at the corners. His lashes are jet black and longer than mine.
He’s very slender, almost bony, but still weighs over 200 pounds. His hands are long, his fingers slender, and his feet quite large. He has a trail of hair winding deliciously from his pubic bone up to his chest, where it spreads into a spattering of wiry, black curls. His nipples are small and react quickly to my tongue.
He has narrow hips and a slight ass. His cock, beneath his thick bush of black curls, is thick in girth and long but doesn’t look it’s size against his tall body. It’s a beautiful specimen – veiny with a thick, mushroomed head that makes my mouth water upon seeing it.
And his truck is a red Toyota Tacoma, king cab. I’ve been in it only two or three times. This short story recalls one of those times.
It was getting late. As the sun sank behind the tree line, it seemed like our house became an oven this time of year, trapping the heat. I wanted ice cream, craved a root beer float for some reason, but there was no ice cream or root beer in the house. The stores in the nearest tiny town would close in fifteen or twenty minutes.
I was restless and bored. I felt horny and alive, as if I’d been lit like a match by the summer heat. On a whim, as I headed out the door alone, I decided to send a text to a friend – to “him.” I asked what he was doing, and he was about to go grab a late supper with his cousin. That meant he wasn’t too busy – I felt confident I could easily derail his plans.
Instead of going to the closest town, I headed for one a little further away, in the other direction, between his house and mine. After a few more texts, he’d bailed on his cousin, grabbed a sandwich and was on his way to meet me instead.
We decided to be daring and parked side-by-side in front of the local high school, away from security lights. I felt turned on and cautious at the same time because I knew half of everyone who worked there during daylight hours.
I stepped out of my little car and hoisted myself up into the passenger seat of his larger truck. The anticipation during our respective drives had created a fever pitch.
As soon as the door shut, his mouth found mine. He reached inside my tiny dress and groped for a breast, pinching my left nipple hard. My tits felt small in his hands, but he exclaimed how much he loved them as he drew my dress over my head and pressed his lips against one then the other, sucking so hard I’d have purple marks to remind me the next day.
I reached for the erection I knew waited for me behind his belt buckle, and he fumbled with it for me in the dark. Soon he deserted his pants and our awkward attempts at intimacy in the front seat. Grabbing my left arm, he pulled my naked body (I’d only been wearing the dress) into the back seat with him. Somehow he shed his pants along the way. The boy was gifted in the removal of clothing.
As soon as he sat, I sat beside him and leaned over his lap to taste his cock. I gathered my hair and indicated he should hold it. I’d never had a man hold my hair while a puked, but many had done me this service while I gave head.
When that position proved too impractical, I dropped to the rough, tan carpet and rug-burned my knees as I enthusiastically swallowed his cock until it pressed against the back of my relaxed throat. I took his full length in and out, giving him a thorough, slobbery blow job. My tongue danced around his shaft while his hips lifted to meet my face. He grabbed my head and fucked my face hard, grunting and groaning as he felt my wet lips siding against his hard cock.
Suddenly he stopped, pushed me gently away and pulled me back up beside him. I heard a school bus coming, probably returning athletes to school from an away game, and I almost panicked. He calmed me. “The windows are tinted, the lights are out.. No one can see you.”
He followed that with, “Come here and sit on this hard cock.” He scooted lower in the seat and guided my right leg across his lap. I straddled him, barely able to see his face in the dark, except when a second bus passed by. I paused as it passed with his dick barely touching the entrance to my wet, engorged tunnel. He groaned in exaggerated frustration and grabbed my hips, forcing me down onto his erection.
I let out a throaty moan like a proper slut as I felt his thick cock stretch my tiny, tight, soaking wet pussy wide open. Oh, it felt so good to be full of him. He liked to call me his slut, and he did then. He bit my neck below my right ear and hissed, “You’re a good little slut, aren’t you, baby? Fuck my hard cock, you fucking slut.” He followed that with, “You are so fucking sexy,” then licked a trail down my neck to my tits.
He began to hump up toward me with urgency, and I met each thrust with vigor of my own. I pushed down hard and pulled back, purposely dragging my wanton, hardened clit through his mass of black hair. The wiry hair stimulated my little nub, and I moaned.
He wrapped his long fingers in my hair and pulled my face to his. His kiss was innocent and eager – no tongues, but lips pressed together, moving against each other in hungry desire. Then our mouths opened together, and we began to nibble. In my passion I bit his lip a tad hard, and her cried out. “Sorry,” I whispered. His response was a low, guttural growl.
He grabbed my supple ass with both hands and dragged his short nails across my cheeks, pulling me down onto his cock hard and fast. He always marked me somehow, and his handprints on my ass would be his mark this time. His thrusts became so vigorous that I stopped returning them and instead let him fuck me to oblivion.
I focused on the feeling of intense pleasure I felt when his thick cock slid in and out of my delicate pussy. He nearly popped out, tickling the soft folds at my entrance, and then he plunged deep, hitting my cervix hard, causing me to cry out in ecstasy with a tinge of pain.
Soon I’d be able to take no more and plunge over the cliff to my orgasm. I told him, breathlessly, “I’m going to cum… I’m going to cum!” and he forced me down with a few final jerks before his cock began to shoot stands off thick, hot semen deep into my pussy.
As I felt the spasms of his cock releasing cum into my hungry cunt, I lost all control and ground my clit hard against him as my own orgasm began. We came together, mostly, and my contracting pussy milked his spurting cock.
When the intensity of our mutual orgasm began to subside, I fell against him. Our mixed sweat stuck our bodies together, but soon I broke away. “That was fun!” I grinned at him like a happy child.
He gave my ass a final squeeze. “Yes, it was.”
I had to get going. I grabbed my dress and pulled it over my head, gave him a quick peck on the lips and left him there recovering while I drove away to buy… What had I even come to buy?
Oh, right… Root beer and ice cream. As I drove across the small town to the grocery store, I felt his cum leaking out of my pussy. Would it run down my legs in the store? I hoped not… But it would be kind of hot if it did.
Martin sat at his computer, waiting for the image to download. This was in the late 1980s, before the world wide web, and Martin was connected to a “bulletin board system” (BBS) via a modem. The photographs were black and white, and each one took about ten minutes to download. Martin had been at it all day.
He had turned 18 yesterday, and when he logged on this morning, the BBS had informed him that he would now have access to it’s “adult” sections. Martin had never looked at porn before, but he was curious. He spent several hours downloading images of naked women posing in various seductive positions. He was astonished to see these photographs, the women displaying their bodies, exposing themselves for him to see. He was touching himself, stroking his penis, and preparing to cum.
Martin was staring at a photograph of two women standing next to each other. Something about seeing them together made it extra hot. It’s not just that he could see their breasts, but that each of them could see the other’s breasts. Each woman not only knew that men were staring at their bodies. They also could see another woman’s body standing right there and being objectified in the same way. This somehow made the intensity of the objectification even stronger for Martin. A woman not just exposed but seeing another woman exposed. Two pusses exposed together, aware of each other, vulnerable together.
But then he noticed another special “forum” in the adult section of the BBS. This one was called “bondage”. Martin went into this forum and soon found himself drawn into a much kinkier world. The women in these photos were not exposing themselves of their own accord. Rather, they had been exposed. Men had exposed them.
These women had not taken off their shirts in order to reveal their breasts. Instead, they had been tied up, their hands immobilized, and then men had removed their shirts, exposing their breasts whether they wanted it or not. These women hadn’t seductively pulled down their pants. They had had their pants pulled down.
Martin was waiting now for another photo to download. This one was called “twife” which was short for “tied wife”. So far Martin had seen women tied up in a number of poses. He was always fascinated and aroused by their helplessness. The way their breasts dangled and swayed, the nipples tender and beyond their control, touchable and sensitive, without defense. And the shocking availability of their vulvas, shaved or hairy, smooth or irregular, but always undeniably female.
Finally the photograph was done downloading. Martin had to decompress the image before he could open it. It had taken all of fifteen minutes to get. But it was worth it. The image was astonishing, actually unbelievable. The woman in it was tied spreadeagled with her arms and legs wide apart. She had heavy breasts, but not enormous. Just big enough to be incredibly sexy. They lay exposed on her chest, the nipples pointing upwards, ready to be touched. And between the woman’s legs, her hairy cunt was completely visible, every inch of her labia accessible. Martin could even see her anus.
It was the most amazing thing Martin had ever seen. He quickly loaded the photograph into the screensaver program that he used for its “slide show” feature. He could set it to display each image for five seconds and then fade to the next. This allow him to use both hands to masturbate.
Martin rolled the mouse up into the corner of the screen to start the screensaver. The first images began to come up. Naked women. Naked pussies and breasts. Martin began to stroke himself. He was about half-way to climax when his mother called from down the hallway: “Martin, dinner is ready!”
Martin was a senior in high school. He was eager to move out of his home where he lived with his mom and his sister Susan. She was just one year older than him but she always treated him like a bratty younger brother. He wished she had gone away to college this year but instead she had stayed around working in a grocery story to save money before deciding what to do with the rest of her life. The house was relatively small and Martin had begun to feel oppressed by the dominant female atmosphere of his mother and big sister.
This week, Martin’s aunt Pamela was staying with them also. She was several years older than his mom but they were sisters and very close. Martin felt he had even less space with the three of them in the house. Also, his aunt had a habit of walking around in her dressing gown, which allowed Martin to see the shape of her body even if he never got to see her naked skin. He had certainly noticed the curve of he breasts at breakfast the previous day. Maybe that had contributed to the intense sexual feelings he was experiencing.
Martin cursed under his breath as his mom called him to dinner again. What could he do? It seems such a shame to rush the cum after all this lovely buildup and the new discovery of these images. But if he didn’t respond, his mom would come knocking on his door. “Just a minute!” he shouted back, grabbing the mouse and jiggling it to turn off the screensaver. The computer once again showed his normal desktop.
Martin waited a few more seconds for his breathing to subside. His mother, aunt, and sister would be waiting for him in the dining room. He had been fantasizing about his aunt’s naked body for the past few days, and suddenly he saw it in a new position: the spread-eagled position from the last photograph he had downloaded. He imagined his aunt’s arms tied apart, unable to shield her chest, her mature breasts flopping forward, ready for his fingers to caress. He imagined his aunt’s leg’s tied apart, unable to close her knees, her mature cunt —
“Martin! I’ve been calling you for dinner!” His mother opened the door to his room without knocking. Martin was startled out of his reverie. He mumbled something about doing his homework and tried to look busy. He felt ashamed to have been caught in a sexual fantasy. He tried to act as if he had been doing something boring, but was certain that his mother could read his sexual arousal on his face and body. Had she seen his throbbing erection? Had she noticed how close his hands were to his dick?
“I don’t like having to call you multiple times,” his mother said. “I want you to come right now. Dinner is —” Suddenly, she stopped speaking in the middle of her sentence. Martin looked up to try and figure out what had caused this interruption. She was staring at him. No, she was staring past him, at his computer…
Martin turned his gaze back to his computer and found, to his absolute horror, that the screensaver had started up again automatically. There were the black and white photos he had downloaded. The ones he had just been masturbating to. The naked women. Before he could react, the first image, which showed a woman posing in an obviously seductive way, cross-faded into the next, which showed a woman tied to a chair, her very large breasts hanging naked for all to see. With a surge of adrenalin, Martin grabbed the mouse and moved it. After what seemed like the longest half-second of all time, the screensaver closed and Martin’s desktop returned.
“Martin.” His mother said. He found that he could not look up or meet her eyes. “Martin, come over here.” Like a shamed school-child, Martin stood up and walked a few steps towards his mother. He was still looking at the floor. “Those were dirty pictures,” his mother said. “I saw them. I know that you must have gotten them from that bulletin system you subscribe to.” There was a pause.
“This is unacceptable,” his mother continued. “I expect you at your age to be looking for a girlfriend. That’s what a boy your age should be doing. I won’t have my son looking at porn. And that second picture. That woman was tied up. Do you like that?” Martin couldn’t speak. “How can you like something like that? That’s cruel. She must feel humiliated. Haven’t I raised you to respect women? Haven’t I taught you that women are human beings and not just bodies? I can’t believe you would look at an image like that for fun.”
As his mom talked, Martin was seized with the fear that the screensaver would come on again, as it was set to do so automatically after a few minutes of inactivity. He tried to think of a way to change the subject and get them to go back to the dinner table. But his mother’s voice was very serious and Martin still felt completely frozen.
“A woman’s body is her own property, Martin,” his mom continued. “Women’s bodies deserve respect as much as men’s bodies do. You wouldn’t like it if someone tied you up naked, would you? Or if someone touched you in a way you didn’t want to be touched? Would you like it if everyone at school saw photographs of you naked? How would that feel?”
Another pause. Martin was still staring at the floor and hoping desperately that his mother’s lecture would end before the screensaver came back on. No such luck. The screen went black and began again to display the images he had downloaded, starting from the beginning. His mother watched the screen, as if transfixed. Martin made a move towards the computer. “Stop,” his mother said, in a commanding tone. “I want to see how bad it is.”
His mother watched in silence as the screenshow played. Martin felt like he wanted to do. Before, he had been watching these images in private, sitting down, and they had turned him on wildly and made him want to stroke his penis. Now his penis was completely soft, a shameful little secret hidden inside his jeans. He wanted to run from the room but knew that this was already the beginning of his punishment for looking at porn, and especially porn that involved bondage.
The images marched on. Martin felt profoundly ashamed as his mother witnessed all the naked women. He felt bad when he saw her looking coldly and silently at the women posed in provocative positions. But when the tied up and helpless women appeared, the shame became even more overwhelming. Finally, the slideshow came around to the spread-eagle photograph, the woman’s bush thrust forward to the camera, her cunt completely objectified. His mother stared at it with a mixture of fascination and horror. What must she be thinking? Martin wondered. She has a pussy. She must feel angry to see a pussy forcibly exposed in such a way.
Finally the slideshow had passed through all the photographs. As the first image rotated on again, Martin hoped and prayed that the torment would be over. Surely his mother was not going to watch the slideshow a second time? And even if she had, the worst was over, she had seen everything. He couldn’t possibly feel any more ashamed than this.
“Pamela!” Martin’s mother called in a loud voice. “Susan! Come in here. I want you to see this.”
Martin felt his knees go weak and he almost fell down. But somehow, he felt that to move or collapse in any way would only draw attention to himself and invite even more shame. So he stood as still as possible, trying not to move, staring at the floor, even breathing as quietly as possible, as if by remaining still and quiet he could actually disappear, as his aunt and sister came into the room.
“Look at this,” Martin’s mom declared, gesturing to his computer. “Can you believe it?” The photographs rotated. Martin couldn’t look up from the floor to see his the eyes of his aunt and sister go wide as the images were displayed, one after the other, for them to see. “It’s not just that he’s looking at porn,” his mother said. “These women are tied up. It’s like they’ve been kidnapped. It’s violent. Do you think there’s something wrong with him? What should I do?”
“He is a pervert,” Susan said. “I’ve seen him looking at Aunt Pamela’s breasts. It’s totally weird. I think you should send him to therapy or something.”
“Now Susan,” said Martin’s mom, intervening at least partly on his behalf. “He is a growing young man. Some kind of sexual urges are natural.”
“Yeah, but he should get a girlfriend,” said Susan. “Someone he likes who he can be with and explore. That’s natural. He shouldn’t be looking at naked women. Especially the tied up ones. I mean, what the hell? He thinks he can just tie up women and stare at them? What’s next? He could be a rapist for all we know.”
Martin’s mom studied him thoroughly. “What do you think, Pamela?” she asked her sister.
Pamela thought for a moment and then said, “I think we should teach him a lesson.”
“What do you mean?” asked Martin’s mom.
“Well, he’s obviously sexually deprived, and he has some kind of bondage fetish. But it’s all twisted up by patriarchy. He thinks that man can control women. It’s a kind of dehumanization. He’s objectifying women’s bodies, projecting his desire onto them. I think we should show him that men’s bodies can also be objectified, that men’s bodies can also be used and humiliated by women. And also that women have sexual desires.”
“Do people make photographs like that?”
“Sure,” Pamela continued. “But we shouldn’t show him photographs. That just continues the relationship with porn. I think we should do it for real. You know, tie him up, show him what it means to be objectified.”
“Us?” said Martin’s mom incredulously. “But isn’t that incest?”
“Well, it’s not really incest if I do it,” said Pamela, “since he’s only my nephew. And anyway, this is serious. It’s not something that’s going to change just from lecturing him about it. I know how this kind of thing works. I had a friend who’s son was disrespecting women. She asked me to teach him a lesson, and I did. I read up on how to humiliate and control a man. And I taught him a lesson. She said that afterwards he was much more respectful of women.”
“Okay,” said Martin’s mom. “I guess you can try. It can’t hurt, since he’s obviously already fucked up. I guess we should leave you alone.”
“No, no,” said Pamela. “You should watch. That’s part of it.”
“Eew,” said Susan. “I don’t want to see Martin naked.” In fact, she did kind of want to. She had been with a few boys but only in a limited way and was quite curious about their bodies. She was interested to see the shape of Martin’s genitals and was a little turned on by the idea of his being humiliated by Pamela. But she also felt a strong taboo against it and protested automatically against the idea of witnessing her brother’s “lesson”.
“Listen,” Pamela said. “We know that Martin was in here looking at this terrible pictures, not just naked women but women tied up and made physically helpless. When boys do this, it’s like they go into a fantasy world. The fantasy world is created by men for men. Martin is creating a kind of fantasy universe in which he can control women, and he is able to do this by separating from reality. We need to get him back into reality. What we need to do is get him turned on but without going into fantasy. Keeping him with us. It’s important that you two stay and watch while I do this. He needs to realize the difference between fantasy and reality. He needs to realize that the photos he was looking at are not real. Trust me, if we can get him aroused with the two of you watching, that will be a big reality check for him. It will teach him that women are real and have real feelings. And that he can’t just reduce us to pussies and breasts.”
Susan and her mother contemplated this. They both felt angry at the idea that Martin would reduce women to their private parts. They wondered if he had ever objectified them in that way, and that made them even more angry. Slowly they came to the conclusion that yes, they wanted to teach him a lesson. They had to prevent him from becoming a male chauvinist, or worse, a rapist. Pamela’s argument was convincing. They would show Martin that they were real people, deserving of respect, and that he couldn’t just objectify women and reducing them to body parts. So they agreed to stay and watch.
Pamela went over to Martin and stood in front of him. He was only a little bit taller than her and she was quite a strong woman. Martin was still staring at the floor. He had been listening to the conversation with disbelief, his stomach sinking as he realized what was going to happen. But still he had no idea what Pamela would do to him.
“Look,” said Pamela, pointing to the computer screen where the slideshow was still playing. “You downloaded those pictures,” she said. “You were having fantasies about these women, right?” Martin said nothing. Pamela stepped forward and took him by the chin, pulling his eyes up to meet hers. “Answer me,” she said.
“Yes,” Martin mumbled.
“Were you staring at their private parts?”
“Were you thinking about their feelings?”
“Did you think about who these women are and why they are posing for these photos?”
“No,” said Martin.
“You were just thinking about their tits and pussies, right?”
Martin nodded his head.
“Right?” Pamela asked again, with something like intimidation in her voice.
“Yes,” said Martin, looking down at the floor.
“Keep looking at the screen,” said Pamela. Martin raised his head again to see the images that were now causing him so much shame. The naked breasts, the exposed nipples, the helpless pussies. “If you look away from the screen,” Pamela said, “I will kick you in the nuts.”
Martin’s eyes widened with fear. He stared at the screen, at the images.
“Take off your clothes,” said Pamela.
Martin hesitated. He turned to his mom with a questioning look. Surely they weren’t really going to make him do this?
Aunt Pamela grabbed Martin by the shoulders and lifted her knee up into his groin. She did it with expertise, not so hard as to completely incapacitate him, but just strong enough to give him that unique male feeling of an impact to the testicles. Her knee pressed a little bit into his scrotum from below. Martin fell to the ground and held his balls through his jeans. He looked up at his mom for rescue but she was just staring at him with the same mixture of fascinationg and repulsion as before. She really was angry about the photos, and she really was going to let Pamela do her thing.
“Get up,” said Pamela. “And take your clothes off.”
Martin had no choice if he did not want another knee into his dangling testicles. He looked around the room and saw three women staring at him coldly. It was as if he now represented for him all the evils and failures of the male sex. They were determined to mold him into the kind of man they wouldn’t have to fear or be suspicious of. They were determined to make him recognize and experience female sexuality in all its strength and power.
Slowly, Martin removed his shirt, exposing his naked chest. Then he pulled down his jeans so that he was standing there in his white briefs. Bizarrely, Martin now found that he cock was somewhat rigid. The shape of its outline was visible in the briefs. His mom and sister were staring at it. “Take them off,” said Pamela.
With painstaking humiliation and slowness, Martin took hold of the elastic band, slipped his briefs down to his ankles, and stepped out of them. As he did so, his erect penis bounced into view, sticking out absurdly at his female relatives. He was extremely conscious of his whole genital package, suddenly exposed for all of them to see, dangling so externally between his legs. As soon as his underwear was down, he covered his private parts with his hands.
“What is it, Susan?” asked Pamela.
“It’s just funny,” said Susan.
“Tell us what’s funny,” said Pamela. “This is part of the lesson.”
“His dick and balls,” said Susan. “They’re so floppy and funny looking. I just don’t understand how men can walk around all the time with all that stuff hanging out between their legs. What do they do with it? Doesn’t it get uncomfortable? Doesn’t it get knocked around?”
“Say more,” Pamela said with encouragement.
“Well,” said Susan, “I’m used to thinking of the penis as something powerful. I’ve only ever seen a dick when I was fooling around with a boy, in a very intimate experience. But right now, when I saw Martin’s… stuff… it was completely different. It wasn’t powerful or beautiful or intimate. It was just a big cock and balls, hanging out there. Kind of weird and inconvenient. And vulnerable.”
As Susan spoke, Pamela had walked around to the other side of Martin, as if to get a look at his backside. Now she reached forward and grabbed his wrists, pulling them behind his back. Martin was so surprised that he didn’t resists, and soon Pamela had him in an armlock. Before he knew what was happening, Martin found that Pamela had locked his wrists together behind his back with a pair of handcuffs. Normally he would have wondered why the hell Aunt Pamela was carrying handcuffs. But this didn’t even occur to him because his entire brain was focused on the fact that his naked penis and scrotum were now fully exposed in front of his mother and sister. His genitals felt heavy and sensitive.
The women made no bones about their curiousity and even fascinationg. Pamela had given them free reign to witness Martin’s humiliation, and even convinced them that it would be part of making him a better man. Neither of them had ever seen a naked man with his hands locked behind his back. They were used to seeing men’s dicks as strong and aggressive, very linked to strong male hands that could defend and masturbate the penis. But with Martin’s hands locked behind his back, his male genitals appeared in a different light. Now Martin’s mom, too, saw what Susan had seen before: that Martin’s genitals appeared ridiculous, floppy, and vulnerable in this position.
For a moment, Susan did question her attitude. Was it okay for her to be staring with such cold fascination at her brother’s flopping private parts? But then she remembered that he had been spending the afternoon staring at photographs of naked female genitals. She glanced over at the computer and saw a photograph of a woman with her legs open, her vaginal slit completely visible for all to see. This made Susan uncomfortable, almost as if it were her own vaginal opening on display. From then on she had no qualms about objectifying her little brothers scrotum sack, testicles, and penis.
“Martin,” said Pamela, in a voice that was all the more terrifying because it was a little bit seductive, “tell us what you were thinking as you looked at the photographs.” Martin didn’t say anything. He looked over at the slideshow where has saw, once again, the photo of the woman with huge breasts, tied to a chair so that he breasts were helplessly exposed and vulnerable. But he knew that whatever he said would get him into further trouble.
Pamela reached around in front of Martin and took hold of his genitals with both hands. He was startled and tried to get away but there was no escape from her cool, strong grip. With one hand she grasped his testicles and squeezed slightly, not enough to hurt but enough to show him she was in control. With the other hand she began to stroke the underside of his penis. “Tell us,” she said again, “what you were thinking about,” and she gave a threatening pulsating squeeze to Martin’s completely helpless scrotum in her palm.
“I think about their bodies,” said Martin. “I want to touch them.”
“I bet you do,” said Pamela. “You sick, sick boy.” With that, she let go of his penis but kept a firm grip on his scrotum, and she began to walk around the room, casually pulling Martin along behind her by his testicle sack. “You fucking men,” she said, pacing back and forth Martin’s room. “You think you’re so powerful. You think you run the world because of your dicks. But actually, your dicks run you. You do whatever they say. Everything you do is for your penis. You can never forget for a moment this stupid genitals flopping between your legs.” Pamela moved her hand unpleasantly, causing Martin’s penis and balls to bounce around comically. Susan giggled again.
Pamela unlocked the handcuffs so that Martin’s arms were free. “Get down on all fours,” she said. Martin did so. He was far beyond the point of resistance. A mixture of arousal and humiliation had overwhelmed him as Pamela had controlled him by the balls. Now he followed her orders directly, kneeling on all fours. “Spread your legs,” Pamela said, using her foot to prod his knees into a more open position. “Now turn away from us.” Martin did so.
See how the dick and balls just dangle there,” said Pamela to her sister and niece. “This is the male genitals in all their glory. Hanging there like a big udder. Like a big sack of pathetic male sexuality. Swinging from side to side.” Pamela knocked Martin’s balls with her foot so that the did begin to sway from side to side between his legs.
Susan stared as if hypnotized at her brother’s genital package, dangling and swaying between his thighs. She was seized with the desire to reach down and grab his scrotum sack. She had never touched a scrotum before. Her sexual encounters had taught her that men do not like to be grabbed there because it’s so vulnerable, so privately male. She had always focused on the penis. Now she was curious: What would it feel like to hold those two tender balls between her fingers? To have that vulnerable sack in her grasp? From this angle it looked as though the male scrotum had been specifically designed to be grabbed from behind by a strong female hand.
Pamela was taking off her clothes. “A woman’s body is beautiful,” she said, as she removed her shirt. “And it is her property. You’re not wrong, Martin, that female breasts are incredibly beautiful and powerful. You’re just wrong to think that you can control them. Women have breasts. Men don’t. That’s the whole point.” Pamela was in her bra and panties as she sat down in front of Martin.
“You would do anything in the world for me to take off my bra right now,” she said. Indeed, Martin was staring at her chest, just a few inches away from his face, as if it were the holy grail, the most important thing in his life. Susan watched as Martin’s hips moved around a little in the air, causing his dick and balls to swing around once again. It was obvious that he was desperate to rub his dick, to masturbate or fuck someone, but there was not to rub his penis against. It was up in the air, hanging there, exposed, sensitive, and unstimulated. Martin stared at Pamela’s bra and the soft, sexual weights it contained.
“You would do literally anything,” Pamela said. “You would sign any contract, make any promise right now. Isn’t that right?” Martin nodded. “The idea of me taking off my bra, it completely fixates you, doesn’t it?” Martin nodded again and his penis gave another twitch. Susan thought she could actually see his scrotum tighten around his two full balls. She still wanted to grab them but was held back by her own shyness and inhibition.
“Even though you’ve seen countless photographs of naked breasts, you still need to see mine, don’t you?” Pamela continued to tease. Martin nodded again. All thought of modesty was gone now. With his cock, balls, and anus full displayed for his mother and sister, all Martin could think about was the two breasts in front of them and how he wanted the bra to be removed so that he could see their full size and weight and shape, and know the color and shape of the two nipples, so close to his mouth. “You need to see my nipples. You need to see my breasts. Isn’t that right?” Martin nodded. “Say it,” Pamela commanded.
“I need to see your breasts,” Martin said.
“They are so beautiful.”
“Could you take off your bra?”
“Could you please take off your bra? Please?”
“What will you do for me to take off my bra?”
“Anything,” Martin said, truly sounding like a slave with no will of his own. “I’ll do anything. I don’t care. I’ll be your slave. I’ll give you everything I have in my bank account. What do you want from me?”
“What if I don’t need anything from you?” Pamela asked. “What if there’s nothing you can give me that I want? What if I have no reason to show you my tits?”
Martin’s face fell as if he had lost a beloved treasure. “Please, Aunt Pamela. Please show me your breasts. Please don’t take them away from me.”
“You understand that I have all the power?”
“Yes,” said Martin. “Of course. You have all the power. Your can show me your breasts or not. I’m totally helpless. You are in control. I’m just begging. I’m begging. Please show me your breasts.”
Pamela unhooked her bra and let it fall the the side. Her heavy breasts swung into view, hanging out where before they had been propped up. Her nipples were large and erect. Pamela moved slightly so that her breasts swayed from side to side. Martin stared as if hypnotized.
The room grew quiet. Pamela lay back and allowed Martin to suck on her nipples. His tungue caressed her breasts and sucked on them gently. Instinctively, Martin lowered his hips and his penis began to rub against Pamela’s panties. Quickly, Pamela reached down and grabbed Martin’s scrotum roughly, squeezing the balls together so that he let out a cry. “You ask before you make any contact with a woman’s body,” she said, pulling Martin’s ball sack to the side. Susan stared fascinated at the grip with which she held the testicle sack firmly between her fingers and thumb. “Do you understand?”
“Yes!” Martin yelped. “I’m sorry!”
Susan released Martin’s balls and he raised himself onto all fours again, careful not to let his dangling parts touch Pamela’s body. “Continue to suck my nipples,” she said. Martin continued to suck. His dick was visibly, achingly hard.
“Please can I rub my dick on you?” Martin asked.
“That’s disgusting,” said Pamela. “Absolutely not.” For another minute or two Martin continued to suck on her nipples. He was desperate, his penis bobbing around with nothing to rub against. Pamela smiled, deeply aroused by the attention to her nipples. Finally she said: “You would do anything to put your penis inside me. Am I right?”
Martin’s eyes grew wide. The thought of his penis sliding into this woman’s vagina made him absolutely insane with desire. He nodded. “Anything,” he said, in a voice of deep and total submission.
Pamela slipped her panties down and allowed Martin to slide his cock up into her vagina. “I bet that feels good,” she said. Martin was beyond words. He began to rub more and more vigorously. Soon he was fucking her intensely. It was as if he no longer saw or heard anything in the room. His entire awareness was directed towards the sensation of his penis inside her vaginal opening.
“Now stop,” said Pamela, “and take your dick out of me.”
Martin didn’t react. Maybe he didn’t hear, or maybe he didn’t care. Or maybe he was truly out of control. In any case, he continued to rub his penis in and out of Pamela’s sexual opening, ignoring her command, fucking her anyway.
“I’ll give you one more chance, Martin,” said Pamela. “Take your dick out of my vagina.”
Martin paid no heed. Susan and his mother watched as he continued to fuck Pamela, his penis sliding in and out of her, his scrotum arrive all the way to her vulva lips and then moving back again, and then pushing forward as if he hoped to get his scrotum or even his whole body inside her. Susan was still staring at his dangling balls as they flopped around in the act of fucking. There was tension in the room. Martin was disobeying Pamela’s command. What would she do to him? Before, Pamela had grabbed his nutsack to enforce her control, but in this position there was no way for her to actually reach his balls.
It occurred to Susan that in this position Martin actually could rape Pamela. She had no way of reaching his testicle sack or of forcing his penis out of her cunt. She could push him away with her hands, but his hands were free now and could fight back. If he wanted to, in this position, he could probably hold her down and continue thrusting up into her even if she didn’t want him to. This thought filled Susan with anger. The idea that Pamela’s vagina could be filled with male cum against her will was so deeply wrong. It was unbearable.
“Martin, get the fuck out of me,” said Pamela, and she did begin to struggle.
Then Martin said the unthinkable: “No.” He looked at her and said no. No, I won’t take my penis out of you. He continued to fuck the older woman, now against her will. Susan and her mom were temporarily frozen as Pamela’s “lesson” to Martin began to become the forcible rape of Pamela by Martin’s cock. Then Pamela said: “Susan, pull this asshole out of me.”
Susan didn’t have to be told twice. In two steps she was across the room and crouching by the side of her brother. He hardly seemed to notice, in the middle of his rape, although he did grab Pamela’s shoulders and press her to him, as if to cling to her body as her repeatedly thrust his dick up inside her against her will. Susan reached out her hand and closed her fingers around Martin’s scrotum. Even though the sack was tighter than before, it wasn’t difficult to close her thumb and forefinger above the testicles so that the nuts were separated from the root of the sack and from the rest of Martin’s body.
With a single move, Susan pulled backwards on her brother’s testicle sack. He yelled as his penis was forcibly yanked out of the vagina it had been so pleasurably fucking. Susan pulled back further so that Martin had to crawl backwards rapidly a couple more feet. Her anger overtook her. She couldn’t believe that he had been going to rape her Aunt Pamela. It might have well been Susan’s own vagina that Martin had violated, for all the righteous anger she felt. Three women in the room, and Martin still felt he had the right to go into a male rapist fantasy and ignore the feels of the woman he was fucking.
Instinctively, Susan pulled backwards and upwards on Martin’s ball sack and placed her other hand on his neck, pushing down towards the floor. Martin twitched and tried to move, but Susan gave a sharp tug on his testicles and he froze. She held him there, one hand gripping his sack, the other hand pushing his head down. Martin’s dick was completely rigid, engorged and enraged by the interruption to his fucking. But he couldn’t move.
“Keep him there,” said Pamela to Susan. Then she spoke to Martin: “You fucking asshole. You really think your dick is in charge. It’s not. Your dick is fucking helpless. Do you feel powerful now?” Pamela looked at Susan and Susan gave another uncomfortable tug on her brother’s heavy ball sack. “You need to learn a lesson,” said Pamela. “A lesson about women’s pleasure.” She scooted forward, bringing her hairy pussy close to Martin’s face. “Suck it,” she said.
Martin looked up at the pussy in his face. He tried again to move, to struggle, to get out of this position, but his sister was completely dominating in her hold on him. Whenever he showed any sign of struggle, she simply increased the pressure in her arms, pushing his head and his scrotum sack in opposite directions. He had no way to fight back. His dick and balls were up in the air, floundering around in her grasp. Susan pushed his face into Pamela’s cunt. “Suck it,” she echoed her aunt.
Pamela’s pussy was wet with a mixture of her sexual juices and Martin’s own precum. He had never been this close to a vulva before, let alone licked or sucked one, but now he had no choice. Martin put his tongue out and back to lick the out lips of his aunt’s vulva. The taste of her sex was extremely strong. Martin tried again to pull his ahead away, but Pamela grabbed in and forced it thickly onto her sex. Susan continued to hold Martin’s ball sack up and away from his body, rendering him helpless.
“Put your tongue in,” said Pamela. The humiliation continued. It wasn’t enough for Martin to lick Pamela’s outer labia. He had to lick her inner labia as well, and then put his tongue up inside her vagina, where his penis had been, and then suck and lick her clitoris. As she approached orgasm, Pamela pulled Martin’s face completely into her cunt so that he felt he was disappearing inside her female sex.
Susan, meanwhile, used her now free hand to play a bit with the tip of Martin’s penis, just enough to arouse him without letting him get anywhere close to orgasm. Susan’s two hands were unpleasantly rough on his cock and balls, while Pamela mercilessly pressed her wet pussy onto his face. When she came, Pamela unleashed a flow of intense sexual liquid onto Martin’s face. He had never felt so used and humiliated in all his life. But at least, he thought, it must be over, since Pamela had cum.
It wasn’t over. They wouldn’t let him up. Pamela went behind him and took his scrotum from Susan. Martin felt like a piece of meat as his most vulnerable, private male organ, his ball sack, was transferred from his sister to his aunt. Now what would they do with him?
“I want him to suck another woman,” said Pamela to Martin’s mother. “Come on over.” Martin wasn’t able to raise his head to see how his mother reacted. Was she surprised? Horrified? Or had she been expecting this? He couldn’t see anything with his balls pulled up behind him and his face pressed down towards the floor by the surprisingly strong arm of his sister. He could only wait in suspense as the three women exchanged glances of silent communication, holding his male body in a helpless position between them.
Finally, without Martin being able to raise his head from the floor where Pamela held it, suddenly into his line of sight came his mother’s naked body. The vulva descended first into his view. It was like Pamela’s but also different. It was far less wet and aroused, since it had not been fucked. It was also not quite as hairy. Yet fundamentally, it was a pussy just like any other pussy. There was the slit. The outer and inner labia. The clitoris. The vaginal opening. The essence of the female sex, just inches from his face. His mother’s cunt.
As his mother lay back, Martin saw that she had taken off all of her clothes. Her breasts were not quite as big as Pamela’s but the nipples were even more erect. Martin only go to look for a moment at his mother’s exposed tits before Pamela’s hand pressed his face down into her naked vulva and commanded him to start licking the female sexual lips. After he licked the lips, Martin again had to put his tongue all over her vulva, including up inside her vaginal opening as far as it would go. Then he had to suck the clit for twenty minutes until she too grabbed the back of his head and pushed his face into her cunt as she orgasmed all over him.
After that, Pamela dropped his scrotum like an ugly sack of marbles. Martin collapsed to the floor, lying on his side. He watched as Pamela and his mother dressed. They were already talking about going back to dinner and maybe seeing a movie later that night. It was as if they had forgotten his existence. Of course, Martin hadn’t cum. His dick was still hard, but he dared not touch it. The two older women put their bras back on, concealing their breasts from him, probably forever. They pulled up their panties, taking their pussies away from him, never to be seen or touched again, never to be fucked. They donned their shirts and pants and went away from him down the hall.
Susan stayed a moment longer, looking down at her brother. Martin couldn’t look in her eyes. It wasn’t just that he had been humiliated in front of her. He had lost control, he had begun to rape their aunt, and Susan had had to come and take control of him. His own sister had had to pulled his raging dick out of Pamela’s cunt. Martin would never forget the feeling os Susan’s fingers closing around his dangling scrotum sack and taking control of his sexuality and his entire body. Now he stared at her jeans, at the shape of her hips, at the smooth undercurve of her crotch. Was she wet inside? What was her pussy like?
The summer I turned eighteen I had an internship at the Public Library. The one downtown, you know the one? It’s tall, the tall white building, near the court house, probably built in the 1970s, with lots of windows and really boring looking. And if you think it is lame looking on the outside, don’t even bother going in. My internship was for this stupid honors program that my mom insisted I participate in every year.
“So you can get into a good college,” she would say. And when I would roll my eyes at her, she would come back with, “You want to go to a good college don’t you?”
As a matter of fact I didn’t really care, but I couldn’t say that to good old mom, it would just make her cry and then dad would get mad and well it was just easier to do what she wanted and suck it up.
My internship was shelving books, cart after cart-load of books. They were dirty and smelly and by the end of the day my wrists and fingers hurt. I didn’t even like to read books so why would I want to shelve them all day? Well, the truth is I only worked four hours each day, from eight to noon, but every hour felt to me like four. Talk about mind-numbing work. Of course that was until I noticed him.
Well actually, it was more like I noticed him noticing me. This old guy, probably thirty or forty years old, was watching me. I thought it was kind of creepy at first. I would see him looking whenever I was on the third floor. He would be coming out of the bathroom when I’d be pushing a cart by. Or I’d be bent over trying to cram one more book into a bottom shelf and I’d look up and there he’d be again. Whenever I’d catch him looking he would pretend he wasn’t, but I could tell and I swear he was looking at my ass.
He kind of reminded me of my math teacher, Mr. Johnson, in eighth grade, kind of cute for a grown up, but a really straight dresser, always wearing button ups and kakis. Anyway, after I realized what he was up to, my work seemed a lot more interesting to me. I’d never been with an older man. In fact, I had never been with any man really. I mean sure I had my share of make out sessions at spin the bottle parties and had been fingered in a closet a time or two, but I had never gone all the way. Not for lack of trying, but boy after boy had either chickened out or wanted nothing to do with me once they found out that I wanted them to be the lucky boy to pop my cherry.
So with renewed interest, each morning before work I would pick out the most low cut top and the tightest jeans that I thought I could get away with. I mean the library did have some kind of lame dress code, so I couldn’t go all out. They didn’t allow shorts or midriff bearing shirts, but I made due with shirts that would gape if I were to bend deeply and jeans that might ride down almost to the crack of my ass as I squatted, which I began to do with increased frequency once I realized he might be watching.
I made a point of getting to the library a little early every day, so I could get my pick of the book carts. I would always grab the ones with the books that needed to go back to the third floor. I began to keep track of his schedule and made a point to try to be shelving near the elevators when he would go to lunch each day. Finally one day I timed it just right so that I was able to ride up with him to the break room on the forth floor. I leaned against the elevator wall and watched him as he tried to pretend I wasn’t there.
“Hi.” I stuck out my chest, blew an impressive pink bubble with my chewing gum and let it pop. “I’m April.”
“Hi April, I’m Dave.” He smiled and reached out his hand to me.
We kind of held hands for a minute and then the elevator doors opened and he drew back.
“I’m one of the summer interns.” I walked with him to the break room.
“That’s great. We really appreciate all the help you all give us in the summer. It makes a big difference. Summer is our busiest time of the year.” Dave bought a root beer out of one of the machines and popped it open. “You want one? I’m buying.”
“Sure, I’ll take what you’re having.” I pointed to the can he had just taken a drink out of. I’ve never liked root beer, but I wanted his can.
Understanding what I meant, he handed the already open can to me and watched me as I slowly took a drink and licked the edge of the can where he had had his own lips. Dave bought himself another one and took a seat near the windows, pulling a chair out for me to join him.
“So Dave, you work here? In the Library?” I was intentionally leaning onto my arm that was resting on the table and pressing my tits up so that they would look even bigger to him.
“Yep, sure do. On the third floor. How is your internship going? You enjoying it?” Dave was definitely looking down my shirt.
“Yeah, its fine.” I lied, figuring that was what Dave the Librarian would want to hear. “If there is anything I can do for you, let me know. Anything.” I took a drink and gave him a look that I was pretty sure was sultry.
“Well, thank you very much April. If I think of anything I will let you know.” Dave chuckled and gave me a big smile. “Welp, gotta go. I will see you around.” Dave pulled himself up from the chair.
“I bet you will.” I looked away from him and looked out the window at the pigeons roosting in the windowsill.
“What.” Dave sounded surprised.
“I see you looking.” I turned back from the window, slit my eyes at him and smiled. “And I don’t mind.”
I’m pretty sure I saw him blush. Then he laughed awkwardly, turned on his heel and left the room.
I waited a few minutes, not wanting to catch up with him on the elevator this time. The next couple of weeks I made a point to catch him on his way to his break or when he was already in the break room. He would always offer to buy me a root beer and I would let him. I brought blow pops with me to suck and torture him with and he bought me popsicles that were waiting in the break room fridge.
Finally the day came where he actually asked me to lunch. We walked over to a place called Bliss, owned by some famous actress. It was a French place, where he bought me crab cakes and we shared something called crème brûlée. I had never had anything so yummy before, it was sweet, creamy and it melted in my mouth.
“Too bad I have to go back to work.” Dave smiled at me as he scooped another spoonful of the custard into his mouth. “Otherwise, I might get a little glass of port. That would be perfect with this dessert.”
“Do you have to go back?” I didn’t want our lunch to end.
“I guess I really don’t. I could always call in tell them I’m feeling sick.” Dave winked at me. “What do you have to do this afternoon?”
“Nothing. I have no plans. No plans at all, Dave.” I licked my spoon and winked at him.
“Won’t your parents expect you home soon?” Dave put his credit card down and signaled the waitress.
“They both work, they won’t be home till after six. That’s why they had me do this internship, to keep me out of trouble.” I drew out my delivery of the word trouble and then giggled at myself.
“Well you want to come over to my place? I have some port over there.” Dave signed the credit card slip and stood.
“Ok.” I felt rather nervous all of a sudden. I somehow hadn’t really expected him to take me up on my bold flirtations and suggestions, but I could feel the butterflies in my tummy fluttering with excitement over the fact that he had.
We walked back to the library and I waited behind the building for him while he went and got his car. He drove around and picked me up. We headed south until we came to his neighborhood. At his house, we pulled all the way into the garage.
Not exiting the car immediately, Dave sighed. “There is something we need to talk about.” He looked ahead and gripped the steering wheel tightly.
“Uh, yeah?” I gulped. I was afraid Dave was going to ask me if I was a virgin, like so many boys had already done. I feared that if he knew the truth then things could easily go down hill and fast.
“April, I’m married.” He was still looking ahead.
“Duh Dave, I saw your wedding ring that first day in the break room.” I felt totally relieved that I wasn’t having that familiar conversation about my intact cherry with another boy. Well a man, but you know what I mean.
Dave laughed and looked at me again. I could see the tension in his shoulders begin to release as a broad smile spread across his face. He looked really good that way.
“Well now that that’s out of the way lets go inside.” Dave came around to my side of the car and opened my door.
I really liked how he was such a gentleman. I didn’t know any boys my age who were like that. Being with Dave made me feel like a grown up, going out to fancy restaurants, having a man buy me lunch, and opening doors for me.
His house was really nice. There were stone counters and dark wood cabinets in the kitchen, where he poured us both a small glass of dark red liquid. The port I assumed. I especially liked the rich brown leather couch I sat down on in the living room. I have always liked the smell of boys’ leather jackets and it reminded me of that. Dave sat across from me in a comfy looking chair and we each sipped our port. It was sweet and made me feel warm inside.
I was wearing a skirt that day. I intentionally let my legs glide apart, slowly as if I didn’t realize it. I giggled at whatever he was saying, something about his house and how he had had the kitchen redone a little over a year ago. I could tell he was kind of nervous, which I thought was totally funny, since he was the grown up, but that didn’t stop him from looking at my pink satin panties as I spread my legs further apart. I was still pretending to laugh when I realized that he had a serious look of concentration on his face. As I tipped my glass, drinking the last drops of port down, I thrust my chest out and opened my thighs completely to his gaze.
His nervous chatter had completely ceased as I set down my glass, looked him in the eye and began to unbutton my blouse. I was glad I had worn my matching pink bra. Somehow I must have known that I would be showing it off that day. Dave was frozen for a moment, but at the sight of my bra he stood and began to make his way over to me. He bent down above me and slipped the bra straps off my shoulders. Then he reached behind me to unhook it, letting it fall to the floor. He cupped each of my breasts in his hands. I pressed my face against the growing bulge inside of his pants. I slid my hand up and rested it on his hard cock. I could tell it was going to be big, even through his pants. I liked feeling the heat of it radiating against my hand. He pulled away from me and slowly unzipped his pants. His baggy boxers were no match for his hardness as it bounced towards me.
Ever since I discovered it, I loved that I had this affect on boys. I love the feeling of them growing hard inside their pants as they kissed me or touched my breasts through my shirt and sometimes when they merely held me close. The first time I had noticed my influence was in middle school. I was making out with my boyfriend at the time, in the dark, behind a big redbud tree in my best friend’s backyard. We were kissing and kissing, he pressed me against the trunk of that old tree and there I felt not just the hardness of the tree at my back, but his own hardness pressing against the front of my thigh. We didn’t go any further that night, but I knew what I had given him. It was that thing the boys in the school halls made dirty jokes about, a hard-on.
Dave pulled his hard-on out of the top of his boxers. His was a man’s hard-on, big and a little more hairy than I was used to and it was looming large in my face. I knew he wanted me to put it in my mouth, just like the boys in school did. After they took it out of their pants, they would often try to push my head down into their laps. I would kiss it and lick it a little just to appease them, but I didn’t really want to. I wasn’t sure if I would like the way it tasted.
I didn’t trust boys to be clean down there and I couldn’t help but worry about them coming really fast in my mouth or face while I was down there. Girlfriends had told me about that happening to them and I didn’t think I could stand it. Besides, wouldn’t a guy tell everyone and wouldn’t everyone think you were a slut if you let a boy stick his dick in your mouth? Even worse, what if you liked it and he could tell, wouldn’t that mean you really were “one of those girls”? I never wanted to be one of them but I trusted Dave. I didn’t think he would tell anyone, besides the fact that he was married and old.
I opened my mouth and let his cock slide in. I was surprised by how sweet his smooth skin tasted and he smelled good, like soap and warm spicy cologne. I wasn’t sure how much I could take of it down my throat, but I tried to let it go as far back as I could. I wrapped my fingers around the base to keep him from pushing too far. He fucked my mouth slowly as I tried twirling my tongue around the head of his cock each time he pulled out a little. I figured that would feel good and he seemed to like it.
I opened my eyes and looked up at him. He was watching me and I really liked that. I wanted to tell him that I could see him looking at me, but of course my mouth was full. I thought I was pretty funny for thinking of it though. Dave must have seen the laughter in my eyes, because he smiled down on me and caressed my left cheek with his thumb and tucked a piece of my hair behind my ear. I liked him touching me like that.
As he pulled his cock out of my mouth, I watched a long string of my saliva pull and break between us. He sat down back in his chair and stroked himself slowly. I wasn’t sure what to do and I was a little afraid that we might be done. I couldn’t help but worry that he might be about to do what another boy I liked had done when I hadn’t satisfied him.
It was earlier that year, his name was Jon and he was popular. I had had a big crush on him since at least eighth grade. He and his friends had picked up my girlfriends and me and taken us to some older boy’s party. Jon started kissing me in the back seat on the way to the party and when others went inside he asked me to stay with him in the car. I couldn’t believe, after all those years, that Jon was finally paying attention to me. I was thrilled. In the car he kept trying to get down my pants but I wouldn’t let him. I told him I was afraid someone would catch us so he suggested we take a walk. When we found a secluded spot he wanted us to lie on the ground which I didn’t like because it was cold and dirty down there, but he was pretty persuasive. As we were making out on the ground, he pulled his cock out and made me touch it. Then he tried to make me put my mouth on it.
When it became clear to him that I was not going to suck him off, he began to ignore me completely and proceeded to pleasure himself as I lay there in the dirt feeling discarded and totally awkward. After he finished we went back to the party. The next week at school he avoided me and apparently also told everyone he fucked me. His friends were all teasing me and giving me a hard time about it in the halls.
I was totally pissed and hurt. We hadn’t done anything and even though I was not going to suck his dick, I very well may have let him fuck me if he had made a bit more effort. So alas, at eighteen I was still a virgin, even though some people were already calling me a slut.
I figured I better pull out the big guns if I was going to keep Dave’s interest. So I slowly slipped my panties down the swell of my thighs, over the knobs of my knees, past the curves of my calves, to my boney little ankles, where I stepped out of them and kicked them across the room. He smiled and I smiled back self-satisfied with the fact that I had his interest again. I spread my legs wide and reached down to cover myself. Despite my brazen demeanor, I was actually kind of insecure about my pussy. I didn’t know if it looked right or smelled right or what. I had so little to go on really.
“Let me see it.” Dave was stroking himself so slowly. “Take your hands away for me, April.”
I closed my eyes and forced myself to let my hands fall away. I knew I was offering myself up to him and if felt good. He was silent for what felt like too long. I opened my eyes just to see if he was still there. I momentarily worried that perhaps something about my pussy had made him lose interest, but when I saw the look of delight in his eyes, all my doubts vanished. I reached down and touched myself, he smiled and nodded his approval as I began to explore the soft folds of flesh under my finger tips. I liked him looking, his gaze felt like a bright beam of light landing warmly between my thighs.
“Come over here April.” He waggled his cock at me, making it clear where here was.
I stood up, and walked over to him. As I stood before him, he pulled my skirt down and let it slide off, disarming me of my last defense. He licked his fingers and slid them between my legs, immediately finding that spot. That spot that had only been found once before by one guy. Geoff a college boy found it, in the front seat of his car, after taking me out for a fancy dinner of duck and escargot. It was that same spot, which I couldn’t ever find again after that one night, no matter how I explored down there. That spot that had made me feel so agitated and so good at the same time. That spot that had made me scream and then cry the only time it had been touched before.
I felt my knees go weak and my body jerked each time the tip of Dave’s slippery finger made its little circle around what I knew must be my clit. I had read about such a thing as a clitoris and a female orgasm in magazines and books, but until that night in Geoff’s car I had never quite believed they were real.
Dave licked his fingers again and wiped his spit between my legs. “Climb up here.” He held his cock up to me and helped me up with his other hand as I mounted the chair.
The chair was plenty big enough for both of us. Facing him, I planted my feet on either side of his thighs and squatted onto his cock. I was wet from all his spit and caresses, but it still hurt a lot. I took deep breaths as I continued to lower myself onto his shaft. He fondled my breasts and didn’t seem to notice I was in any pain. I certainly didn’t want him to know and possibly abort the mission.
Once I felt I had gone as far as I possibly could, I wrapped my arms around him and buried my face in his neck. In too much pain to actually try to ride him as I imagined he wanted, I hoped he would do the rest. I was not disappointed but a little shocked when he quickly thrust up into me, finding more space further up that he was able to fill with cock. I let out a yelp of surprise.
“Are you ok, April. I’m not hurting you am I?” He froze.
“No, I’m fine.” I could feel tears welling up in my eyes, but I really wanted this. My volleyball coach’s words, “no pain no gain,” passed through my mind.
As I clung to his neck, he began to trust up and down, almost pulling his cock completely out of me and then pushing it fast and hard all the way back in. He stood, lifting me with him. I wrapped my legs around his waist as he carried me over to the couch and laid me down on my back. He lifted my legs around his neck and started to fuck me hard. His cock was so big. Despite the pain I began to feel myself opening more and more to him, allowing him to fuck me impossibly deep. He slid out of me, picked me up, turned me around and bent me over the arm of the couch. I lay there waiting, with my ass up in the air, eagerly waiting for that pain to pierce me again.
“April, were you a virgin?” Dave slid his fingers between my legs and held them up.
I started to tell a lie, but then I saw the undeniable smear of blood on his hand.