Posts Tagged ‘older man’

Trevor anxious to start the class so he could start pouring over his student’s questionnaires, walked deliberately around the front of the auditorium. The questionnaires always gave him an erection as he discovered this year’s virgin, how often she masturbated, and what sexual fantasies she might have. Finding virgins with intact hymens was especially rare but so far he had managed to find at least one every quarter. He would then borrow medical equipment from the anatomy instructor to give the seminar a clear view of the inside of a woman who had never let another man touch her. He used a colonoscopy scope that lit up and gave a great picture that he projected on the large screen. He was always very careful not to penetrate her to leave everything intact for his favorite part of the series “fucking a virgin”.



The students began filing into class. He watched as they drifted in saying pleasantly, “Please fill the front seats first, we will be watching a film today”.



He would say this every few minutes or so as the rest of the students sauntered in before the class started. Trevor introduced his TA, Eric, to the class. Eric was one of his returning seminar students and a personal favorite. Eric was a PE major with an exceptionally large cock and a very muscular demeanor. The site of him soaked more than one or two panties Trevor was sure. Eric would be running to the computer lab to print Trevor’s seminar extra credit invitations after he read the questionnaires and sorted out the students who would make the cut for the Role Play Erotica seminar over the Understanding & Treasuring your Body ~ a discussion on safe sex and mutual monogamy. He liked to teach the Erotica seminar the weekend before he taught the course on responsible sexuality. It always amused him the adoring looks he got from his mature, responsible, conservative students as he thought of his virgin and teaching in front of her knowing what he did for the remainder of the quarter. Often he would engage in a mutual sexual relationship until she moved out of his class enjoying the taboo indulgence.



Trevor wondered if anyone noticed his erection as he excitedly panned the room and his students with his gaze.



“Please pass your questionnaires to the center aisle so Eric can collect them.”



He busied himself setting up the film with anticipation. He’d leave Eric in charge of the film so he could spend the next hour and a half separating out the papers. When Eric collected from the last row he quickly walked up taking them into his hands as he left to read them privately in his office.



Trevor’s office was around the corner a few doors down from the auditorium. It was a small office without a window but he had it well lit. Sometimes he liked to lock the door when he had students in his office so he could have some privacy. He liked to tell his colleagues that his subject matter was sensitive and when a student had a question he wanted them to feel safe and at ease. He didn’t share that often when girls that attended his seminar came into his office they were looking for more than answers to Human Sexuality topics. He put in a comfortable sofa and had his bottom file filled with adult toys he liked to take out and explore with these girls who, before they attended the seminar, had never heard of or even seen some of the adult products that were designed to vibrate and massage their G spots.



Trevor walked around and set the papers down in front of him then did the initial sort. Some of his favorite questions:



Why are you attending a course on Human Sexuality? What do you hope to learn from taking the class?



What kind of birth control do you currently use? What is your current knowledge of STDs and safe sex practices?



How many sexual partners have you had since you’ve become sexually active?



Describe your sexual experiences and your attitude towards your own sexuality.



How do you feel about masturbation? How often do you masturbate?



Please describe any fantasies and fetishes you would like to explore in more depth with the class.



Have you ever watched a movie that excited you so much you became noticeably aroused? Please describe what the characters in the movie where doing that excited you.



Trevor always did the initial sort on how many sexual partners his students had. He really didn’t care about the question unless the answer was N/A or none. He was happy to see he had several students both male and female that had never had sex with anyone. This year he had 5 students.



Their answers:



Kara Johnson:



I am taking Human Sexuality to understand the historical aspects of human sexuality from a multicultural perspective. I would like to understand my own sexual anatomy better and to explore other sexual lifestyles in a safe environment. I don’t fully understand STDs and the different types of contraceptive choices available.



I’ve been fearful to have sex with anyone because of the social stigmas behind having an STD and I don’t want to catch anything. I’m taking birth control pills currently because my doctor recommended them for some menstruation issues I have.



I haven’t had any sexual experiences yet but I’m hoping after taking this class I will have a better understanding of sex and to feel comfortable exploring my own sexuality and finally getting away from my parents domineering religious crap.



Masturbation has always confused me. I’ve wanted to touch myself many times but when I talked to my mother about masturbation she invited a priest over to talk about the spiritual ramifications of touching yourself before you’re married and I’ve always felt guilty for wanting to touch myself. I haven’t masturbated other than to feel how wet I get when I get excited about something and sometimes it does feel good to rub my clitoris when I know no one is watching.



I have had a fantasy after watching a movie. I was at a friend’s house whose parents watch Showtime and HBO. I liked watching Gladiator with Russell Crowe but Spartacus “Blood and Sand” & “Gods of the Arena” really excited me. One scene had a Patrician come to the Ludas wanting to have sex with a virgin and he put his hands into two naked beautiful girls (slaves) to see which one was tighter and then had a gladiator take her virginity roughly while he watched. Next, he violated her from behind at the same time. I’m not sure why I was so excited by the idea of losing my virginity to a gladiator while some rich perverted man also had sex with me in the ass but it does excite me. It’s probably a good thing I can’t lose my virginity that way because it would probably hurt but seeing it in the movie really turned me on.



Trevor nearly fell out of his chair. He stood up to go lock his office door and sat down to read the paragraph over and over knowing he was going to offer her what she was fantasying about and that he would be the one to drive it home in her ass for the first time if she let him. Eric would be the perfect gladiator he was built like a brick shithouse with a cock that was larger than most and he looked like a gladiator it was perfect. Trevor unzipped his slacks and reached his hands in to gently stroke the head of his penis picturing being next to them while Eric roughly pulled her close and inserted himself into her breaking her hymen violently while he watched. Trevor was stroking more passionately now as he took a break to enjoy the story play out in his head. He’d seen this scene. The gladiator drug her down and roughly inserted himself inside her then the Roman demanded she be on top fucking the gladiator so he could shove her down and violate her from behind. The slave was crying and was devastated. He was surprised this excited Kara. He exploded while he visualized how different being turned on by a movie to actually doing this in front of the other students in full costume would be for her.



He went to the next paper.



Kristy Nelson:



I am attending human sexuality this year to learn more about sex, sexuality, and my body. I would like to explore male/female anatomy and learn more about how a large class explores and interprets this subject together. I would like to hear women that are a larger size talk about how they overcome body issues and how they feel about sex and being naked in front of someone else. I’d like to learn how to be more comfortable with my own body.



I am not sexually active so I don’t need birth control. I don’t know too much about the different kinds of STDs but I think society spends too much time worrying about them. Many of them are treatable and the permanent ones really are prevalent and not that big a deal. Getting aids wouldn’t be an interest. I would like to avoid that.



I haven’t had sex yet. I am a little worried my weight would put someone off and am embarrassed by the idea of a man seeing me naked.



Masturbation embarrasses me. I’ve been excited by movies and books and have felt drawn to play around afterwards but I’ve always thought maybe someone would hear me or walk in or that someone would know I’ve been doing it. I’d rather not do it then have someone judge me for doing it.



I guess my fantasy would be to find a man who loves my size that I feel comfortable getting naked with. I would like to have sex and learn how to feel comfortable. I’d like to hear about how other people masturbate and how they feel about it. I guess I’d like to learn how to relax and enjoy my own sexuality.



I do get turned on by movies. I watched “My Big Fat Greek Wedding” and I loved watching her go from being shy and awkward to being more confident. I also liked “The Mirror has Two Faces”. Movies where women overcome issues around weight and men who enjoy them unconditionally excite me. I watch “Drop Dead Diva” and feel I could be more like her and learn how to be comfortable in my own skin. I’m hoping this class will help me with that.



Shawn Trebar:



I am taking this class to learn more about sex. How to find it, how to get a girl to agree to it, and where one goes to seek it out without paying for it.



I don’t care about STDs but I guess learning about them would maybe make my mother feel good that she’s helping me pay for college. I’ll probably bring that up next time I see her.



I’ve not got laid yet but I’m hoping this class might help me change all that. Maybe a horny student will latch onto me and want to help me get rid of my virginity.



I masturbate all the time and love porn. I read stories online. I like amateur porn that looks unrehearsed without all the dumb music and fake looking porn stars. I like the younger girls with the older guys or the stepdaughter does the stepfather. Taboo topics turn me on.



Trevor enjoyed reading this one. This kid was in for a good time his first time out. He had a feeling he’d being seeing him again as a returning student for other seminars.



Jane Brooks:



I am taking this course to learn more about responsible sex and safe practices. I want to learn more about our bodies and how to keep them healthy. I’d like to see how other people interact and discuss sexuality as a group.



I’ve never had sex because God intended for me to be pure for my husband. I’m saving myself for my husband. He will be the only man to ever touch me.



Masturbation is wrong and this questionnaire is almost inappropriate for a college course.



Trevor quickly dropped this one in the Safe Sex Seminar pile. This student didn’t interest him. She was uptight and he felt sorry for her future husband but knew he’d probably be as uptight as her. Erotica Role-play was not for her.



Jim Baker:



I’m taking this course because I think learning how other people handle sexuality and topics around sex and sexual behavior will help me with my seminary courses and it’s important I learn other peoples thoughts and values so that I can be the best pastor I can be for my congregation when I finish school.



Trevor stopped reading and moved him into the rejected pile. Someone dedicating their life to bringing people closer to God didn’t need a two day hands on practicum in Erotic Role Playing. This guy would enjoy the guest speakers from local religious groups. He set his 3 virgins in the Erotica pile and set aside the other two.



Trevor enjoyed reading and separating the more experienced students. Nikki Johnson was maybe one of his favorites.



Nikki Johnson:



I’m taking this class with an old friend. We wanted to learn more about Human Sexuality together and thought a group class would be an interesting place to talk about sex and our bodies.



I’ve had surgery so I can’t get pregnant. I would like to learn about the different kinds of STDs. I’ve been lucky about not catching anything and would like to continue so I do ask about a man’s history with STDs but I enjoy having sex without any latex or barriers so I am I guess higher risk.



I’ve had sex with around 30 different people give or take a few. Most of those were with people I was dating.



My sexual experiences? I guess I like boring sex the best. I like the man on the top. I like things to be gentle and to feel a man’s weight on me when we are having sex. I like my nipples to be nibbled on and pinched. I like to be kissed and talked to when a man is having sex with me. I really like having sex with my friend who’s taking this class, Edward.



Masturbation is something I do every day if I can’t have sex. I’m a very sexual person. Edward actually bought and mailed me a vibrating rabbit to play with for when he was off on a job or not around. He’s called me and listened while I used it while I listened to him touching himself. He’s introduced me to erotic fiction online after he got me to write him some erotic stories based on a character he developed. Some of my best relationships were with people who weren’t uptight about masturbating in front of me. If one person has an orgasm before the other one sometimes it’s fun to finish off with the other person in the room watching.



Fetishes and fantasies, I like reading rape stories, step parents with their step kids, I have kind of a perverted sister my family adopted and I wouldn’t mind fooling around with her and watching Edward fuck her while I’m fiddling with her clit and pinching her tits. She tried to show me her breasts last time we hung out together then kissed some horny blonde chick right in front of me. I’d really like to have an opportunity to do the wrong thing with her rather than the “Catholic guilt” thing. Fucking my sister would be amazing and watching Edward fuck her in front of me would be a shocking diversion especially if she let me touch and play with her while they fucked in front of me.



I watch Californication, Spartacus, porn, & lots of sexual movies. On Californication I enjoy watching the X-files guy having sex with all these different women while being such a gentleman and a nice guy. His character, although a horn dog, is still likeable and someone I would actually want to fool around with. Spartacus is just straight up violence and porn. I love everything about that show. I liked when he was fucking the blonde bitch whose husband was responsible for putting his wife into slavery and when they took off the masks when they were tricked into fucking each other he went into a murderous rage and started strangling her. I’d have liked it better if they kept fucking while he strangled her to death. I also liked the scenes where the slaves were forced to have sex with people. One in particular was a wife who was honorable and faithful to her husband but she was a slave so was forced to fuck the champion gladiator and she suffered through it then towards the end she got turned on and started enjoying having sex with him.



Trevor poured over each answer from his students especially interested in the Twins, Teva and Deborah, unfortunately Deborah’s answers really did put her in the other seminar but Teva’s interested him enough not to separate the girls.



Teva Baker:



I am taking your class because I have no idea what a Human Sexuality course will be like and am curious about how an instructor approaches the topic.



I am taking birth controls pills. I’ve never had an STD but do practice safe sex with men I’m not planning on having a relationship with.



I’ve been with a few men and women. Probably around 20ish combined.



I think masturbation is wonderful. You’re in complete control of your body and how you manipulate your hands and toys. I often masturbate while reading erotica, watching cable, watching boyfriends on the internet touching themselves. I love it.



My biggest fantasy is to have sex with my sister. I know she’s never been interested in having sex with me because it’s “incestuous” but we are identical twins. I want to kiss her, I want to suck and bite her tits, I want to use toys to excite her. I’d love to put on a strap on with a vibrating dildo and fuck her. I’d love to have sex with her and someone else.



I did watch a movie on Netflix called “Dairy of a Nymphomaniac” which I watched a few times. I liked watching her with the black man in the Jacuzzi tub. When he went in to fuck her with a bottle it shocked me. She wasn’t in the mood but did it anyway because he liked to fuck her with it. I liked watching her in the Jacuzzi tub while she leaned completely back exposing her breasts as he pumped into her.



Her sister’s answers were very different. She’d only been with a few people. Deborah was much more conservative then her sister. She might be a problem in his seminar. He really wanted to keep them together because they were gorgeous and had great figures. He was starting to see them maybe with an older man playing the role of their step father or a black student which seemed to excite Teva.



Trevor sorted the papers into two piles then walked over to his PC to type out the names for Eric. He grabbed the list off the printer and headed back to the auditorium. Eric would need some time to prepare the seminar invitations. Once printed with the student’s names he would call them forward and watch as they walked to the front of the class to grab their extra credit assignments. This gave him the opportunity to look over his innocent student and get to know the other students who would partake in his yearly class orgy. Eric enjoyed this part too as he made the invitations he would check out the girls who he might be able to screw that coming weekend. He was particularly excited about the twins. They had made the Erotica pile. Eric had no idea the Prof. was going to give him a special treat and one of his virgins.



Eric came back in and handed off the invitations to Trevor. His confident walk, athletic frame, and cheerful disposition were intoxicating. Eric stepped out of the way leaning casually against Trevor’s desk with a great view of the students walking to get their invites. The class was almost over.



Trevor began, “I am inviting each of you to attend my extra credit seminar. These seminars can add 20% to your course grade. You are welcome to attend. I have separated you into two different groups based on your answers to my introductory questionnaire. When I call your names please come forward and then you can enjoy the rest of your afternoon.”



“Nikki Johnson and Edward Roberts” Nikki and Edward stood up, they were toward the back. They both looked like they were in their late 30s early 40s. Nikki was overweight but walked with the confidence of a thinner younger lady. Both were dressed well. Edward was muscular and attractive. “I’d like to talk to both of you in my office about this weekend’s seminar. I’d like your help setting up and help with the first demonstration. You can meet me in about 15 minutes down the hall in room 217.”



“Kara Johnson.” Kara came forward she was a few rows back. She had a near perfect figure with full perky breasts. Her hair was dark brown almost black and straight. She looked quite a bit like Natalie Portman. An innocence about her that was intoxicating. He would be watching her walk away fantasizing about Eric fucking her while he pushed her forward violating her virgin ass from behind. He wasn’t disappointed. Her firm heart shaped ass looked incredible in jeans. Eric watched her come down the stairs and when she turned to walk away his breath caught in his throat. He remembered her name being on the good list. Even if he didn’t get the opportunity to fuck her he would enjoy watching as someone else did.

Agatha had had a shit day at work.



“Fuck you, Charles.” she said out loud as she strode in through the front door, kicked off her shoes, tossed her jacket and dropped down dejectedly on to the cream sofa in the living room. All Agatha wanted was a good hard distraction fuck, and he had the audacity to be on holiday with his family.



Agatha was relatively tall with short spiky hair. She was a little heavier than she would have liked to have been at 34, but loved the feeling of her heavy tits so didn’t overly concern herself with the numbers. She had a few tattoos and far too many earrings, but none of them were a big deal for her office job. Her skin was pale and well moisturised, and she loved getting fucked hard.



Agatha sighed aloud theatrically and leant over to the decorative box on the large wooden bookshelf next to the sofa.



She smiled a little as she pulled out a fat hot pink dildo and confidently predicted feeling better within a few minutes.



She raised the fitted t-shirt she had been wearing all day and lifted her breasts out of their bra cups, keeping the bra on. With her large round tits and small nipples exposed, she scooted out of her black pencil skirt and kicked off her cobalt blue lacy knickers. She loved having her tits out but her top still partially on like the girls in the porn films. The black hold ups could stay on, she decided.



Agatha leant back into the sofa spreading her stockinged legs apart from her hips, rubbing the tip of the fake cock over her clit. She used her left hand to spread her pussy lips as wide as possible, mimicking the stretching she wished Charles’s dick was giving her. Agatha enjoyed variety with her bush and today it was a hairier than usual. She often preferred it shaved, but wanted to save that for the next time she had Charles inside her. Plus there was something kind of hot about watching the thick dildo disappearing into a hairy slit.



As her clit started to swell from the attention, she felt her hole moistening and alternated clit rubs with dipping the dildo head into her cunt. At first it wouldn’t go anywhere near fully entering her, but with a few minutes of persistence, she had most of the thick shaft slipping in and out of her pussy.



Agatha lived alone and could afford a few moans alongside her open display. She could hear the dildo being guzzled by her tight wet snatch and slurping when it was removed and she found herself turned on by the sounds. She occasionally pulled the cock up to lick her own liquid off the warm wet shaft, thinking that the last time she tasted herself it had been on Charles’ tongue.



She pulled hard on a nipple occasionally during the shafting but it really wasn’t enough. When someone else fucked her, she could reasonably expect two hands on her heavy breasts, or one hand and a mouth, meaning her prominent nipples got the attention they needed to bring her off. Agatha made a mental note to buy herself some nipple clamps for the next time she had to fuck herself.



She continued pulling the dildo out all the way and slamming it back in up to its fake balls, whilst fantasising about Charles. It felt good, but nowhere near as good as the real thing. Agatha thought about filming her slippery gash swallowing up the toy for Charles to see what she was reduced to when he was away, but she wasn’t sure he’d be overly impressed… Shame.



Agatha rubbed her now very swollen clit with a finger as the toy continued to stretch her hole. She imagined it was Charles’s tongue against her whilst the dildo split her wide open. He was definitely going to try that at some point in the future.



A few more strokes of her proud clit and Agatha was about to come hard around the fake dick. She pumped it fast in and out of her cunt whilst flicking herself off and could feel the hard spasms from inside trying push the dildo out. She slowed the flicks as her orgasm subsided and she lifted the cock, now sticky with her cum, on to her belly below her hanging tits. She felt momentarily relaxed, but saddened that she wasn’t filled with Charles’s spunk.



Damn you and your fucking holidays, Charles.



***



From: Agatha



To: Charles



Subject: Order: One fat cock with a side of spunk



Hey Charles,



Hope you had a great holiday, but things have been dull here without you.



I need your dick, a hard fucking and your spunk all over my titties (not necessarily in that order).



You can eat me out too, whilst I moan about how hot you are. This is optional though, the first part is mandatory.



Fancy it? Email me a time that suits you and your lingerie preferences if so.



Yours, damp of panty in anticipation,



Agatha



***



From: Charles




To: Agatha



Subject: Re: Order: [Redacted]



Oh for fuck’s sake Agatha, you know this is my personal email account.



Make it satin, slutty and suitable for sucking.



Charles.



***



Charles had his own key so let himself in at the allotted time. He paused for a few seconds inside the door when there was no response to his call then decided to sit himself down on the cream sofa.



Agatha came down the stairs not long thereafter wearing a short silk dressing gown with stockings and suspenders peeking out from the bottom. The visible lingerie was white, and the gown itself white with a floral print. As she walked across the room, the jiggling of the mounds under the gown indicated that there was no structural integrity to whatever bra was under there. Feeling her tits bounce turned Agatha on and she felt her cunt getting even damper than it had been in anticipation.



As Agatha reached Charles she leaned in and pushed him back against the sofa. She stood astride his legs and opened her gown so that he got a view directly at crotch level.



His eyes travelled up and were met with a split cup silken bra that was really two fabric triangles with a gap for Agatha’s hard nipples. Given the size of her titties it was a bit of a token effort, but not a bad one.



Moving down there was another small triangle covering her slit, again white and this time sheer with her enthusiasm. He raised a hand to rub her snatch roughly and pulled away damp fingers smelling of clean yet very horny cunt.



Shit, he wanted to fuck her now, but she pushed down on his shoulders making it clear that wasn’t going to happen.



Someone went on holiday and now someone was going to come in their pants to pay for it, he suspected.



Agatha angled her pussy towards Charles and he continued to rub her through the panties, eliciting moans and grinding of her hips. Getting to the point where the panties were about to get swallowed up in the friction, he pushed them to one side and slipped a thick manicured finger into her slit.



Agatha fucking loved being fingered, and watching this shave headed man beneath her restricted to slipping a wet finger inside her pussy as her fat tits jiggled near his face made Agatha grin.



Charles slipped in a second finger, and Agatha dropped a hand to rub her clit right in front of him. He could smell her pussy and his hand growing damp as she writhed around his fingers.



Suddenly Agatha stood fully up, pulling away from his hand. She dropped the gown to the ground and started to open Charles’s button fly. He really hoped he was about to get head, but wasn’t counting on it. He had been on holiday. Without her.



Agatha freed his stiff cock but instead of instantly licking its hot head as she normally did, knelt before him and placed a heavy breast on either side. Her tits remained mostly covered by the bra, but the split cups left her nipple and part of each areola bursting out. the silky fabric sat partially between her breasts, giving their travel up and down Charles’s sensitive shaft an unusual texture. She bounced up and down a little on her knees shaking his thick cock with firm heavy tits, looking up at him as she did.



Charles hadn’t historically been a big fan of the tit wank, but this wasn’t bad.



Next up was lube to change the texture. Agatha rubbed a little into the canyon between her titties and dropped them down around Charles’s cock. She mashed her tits hard around his dick pressing them into the sides as she rhythmically slid them up and down. Combining this with a lack of fucking for Charles in two weeks and she was soon close to the target. Charles uttered an indication that he was about to shoot his wad and Agatha leant down, aiming his load into her mouth, around her chin and onto her breasts. Charles obliged, hard.



Agatha licked the creamy remainder off her lips and chin and looked up at a panting Charles. She’d missed his spunk, but he still owed her two weeks’s worth of fucking…



Agatha decided to entertain herself and give Charles a show whilst he was recovering enough to stick his cock inside her.



Agatha took herself over to the cream leather recliner where she had previously stashed the dildo. She turned back to Charles, unhooking the flimsy bra and releasing her heavy titties fully as it dropped. Her chest was still oily and she absent-mindedly rubbed the residual oil over her now-puffy nipples whilst Charles looked on. That had them hardening up again and she pulled them skywards before letting them drop.



She let down her pathetic excuse for knickers and flung the wet fabric at Charles. He responded by sucking the silk as his eyes remained on her body.



Sitting back into the chair, Agatha spread her hips as wide as she could, her stockinged legs over the arms of the chair. Boldly displaying her smooth shaven cunt to Charles, her clit was already swollen from the foreplay. Her pink pussy glistened along with her nips as she reached over for the dildo, Charles watched the light bouncing off them.



Agatha was far more of a dirty slut than Charles could ever have realised, he thought. He thought she might be up for a drunken snog, but this was far beyond what he thought of the girl he knew from work. At 49, he expected his cock to take a while to recover, but she seemed to have an effect on him (could it be desire?) that meant it wouldn’t be much longer now.



Agatha began the alternating of her clit and gash that caused her tits to bounce and her head to go back, exposing all of her long neck. Under her stockings were two silver ankle bracelets, a gift from her trip with Charles.



Charles was no longer able to stay away from the show, and walked over to bite a breast and kiss the side of her neck. Agatha moaned even louder, reaching out to see if his cock was ready for her yet.



It was getting there, and continued to do so as she pumped him with one fist. Charles took the dildo from her, forcing it in repeatedly with a brutish action. Charles then bent down, removing Agatha’s hand from him and knelt before her. He placed the tip of his tongue square on her slippery clit as he continued to pump her hard with the dildo.



Agatha’s moaning and rocking of her hips suggested this was having the expected effect on her, and also gave him good view of her cunt being stretched out by the cock if he sat back for a moment. There was something very hot about watching her penetrated at this angle, but by now, Agatha was pleading for Charles’ dick, not a poor imitation.



Agatha wasn’t going to get the penetration she expected however. Charles could build plans whilst on holiday too…



He pulled the dildo out of Agatha’s hole and pushed the tip up into her mouth to lick clean. Agatha obeyed. Once she was done, Charles removed it and kissed Agatha hard – their first kiss this meeting



Pulling Agatha’s hand he led her down onto the cream shagpile carpet (no pun intended). Agatha knelt on all fours with her hole tilted up for him to fuck her. Doggystyle, she expected, as they had both always enjoyed.



Fill her he did, but not with his cock. Charles inserted the dildo hard into her dripping slit and left it there whilst fondling her hanging titties. He pulled down on the nipples that were pointed downwards now leaving Agatha moaning with delight.



His right hand came away reaching for the lube and a little was drizzled over Agatha’s ass before she knew what was happening.



Charles massaged her butt cheeks until they were slick, venturing a finger into her butt hole occasionally. Agatha moaned and steeled herself for what was coming next as Charles lubed his cock. Making sure the dildo was still filling her cunt, Charles rested his rock hard knob at the entrance to Agatha’s ass. He proceeded very gently into her with small rocking movements, stretching her ass alongside her cunt.



“Fuck me in the ass with your thick cock” was all Agatha could come up with. She regretted it immediately – not very erudite. The warm spreading sensation of her ass was all she could focus on right now though. It was a little sore, but awesome at the same time.



Charles, never a man of many words, didn’t say anything.



He was loving this filth, his cock was clenched so tight with every thrust that he felt great. That was about the size of it.



The gentle bursts increased his depth and soon he was rocking Agatha’s ass. He would occasionally reach down and pump the dildo, leaving her moaning even harder, and altering the sensation against his cock inside her.



Agatha couldn’t take much more when Charles moved a hand around to rub her clit, her pussy and ass exploding in a huge orgasm. Agatha’s butt clenching him even tighter left Charles shooting his cum into her ass with very little warning. As both of them finished their spasms, Charles pulled the dildo out of Agatha’s cunt and she felt his spent cock slide out of her ass at the same time.



As they stood kissing, Charles’ spunk started to leak out of her ass and down the inside of her stocking. Agatha loved the sensation of its warm stickiness dripping, knowing that this was the result of making Charles come.



“Fuck, Charles, you should go on holiday more often.”

Authors note: This story takes place about a year before chapter 1, the story of John and Maggie’s meeting, and eventually first time. Thank you to everyone who has patiently awaited this chapter. If you’re looking for a quick sex story, skip to the end.



*



John opened the door to the optical office and its little bells clanked against the door, sighing to himself for leaving his glasses on his bed during his nap yesterday. His alone time on Tuesday afternoon was disrupted.



“I’ll be with you in a just a minute, sir,” came a woman’s voice at a nearby desk. She was helping a young girl get fitted for her first pair of glasses.



John followed the sound of the voice to a sweet brunette in her mid twenties and exchanged smiles with her. “Sure,” he said roaming to the excess of men’s eyewear on the wall. He didn’t need new glasses but there isn’t much to do to pass time in the optician’s office.



He looked over at the desk from afar, specifically at the store associate, sneaking little glances as she giggled with the young girl. The optician showed the little blonde girl the mirror, “You’ll be rockin’ at school now,” she said.



The optician was sexy in the girl next-door sort of way. A woman who would bake for you and blow you while her delectable treats were in the oven. She was young, later mid twenties, but old enough to have seen the world and develop her life. She wasn’t terribly young, but compared to himself at thirty-eight, its was an acceptable age difference.



John tried not to stare and occupied himself as if he were picking out a pair of glasses. He tried on a few pairs that he couldn’t really waste money on with the mouths to feed at home. His ears listened to her voice, soft with a slight hint of southern twang, as she went over insurance information with the mother.



He was able to glimpse at her in the mirror when he was trying on frames. Her lavender blouse continued to draw his eye. She was professionally buttoned up, not flaunting her cleavage, but his mind strayed to where that small strip of skin led.



He fumbled to put back a pair of glasses on the back light wall, distracted by the sales girl’s alluring smile. His eyes were drawn to her glossed lips and pearly whites. He casually slipped his glasses back on his face and rubbed his mouth trying to sidetrack his thoughts, “Sloppy Joes, or spaghetti for dinner…”



As he stole peeks at the woman his glasses kept sliding off his face, reminding him why he was here.



The associate got up with the girl and her mother and led them to the register. Her movements drew John’s attention; he quickly admired her dark purple skirt that hugged her hips and thighs, flaring out around her knees.



While walking behind the counter, she looked over at her waiting customer, “What can I help you with today, sir?” she asked.



“Just an adjustment, take your time,” John said pleasantly. He wasn’t rushed from being in the presence of a striking younger woman.



She smiled back to him, genuinely thankful for his courtesy.



She went about her work, explaining the forms to the girl’s mother and paying her out. He watched how she interacted with her customers. Gracefully, was the only adjective that came to mind.



Her brown hair danced lightly just below her shoulders in soft layers. Her breasts gave the chest of her blouse a bit of a snug fit. He didn’t mind. It made her curves stand out even more.



He shook off his thoughts; he still had to talk to this woman. He saw her smile a cheesy grin with the little girl and thank them for their business. It might be because he hadn’t been properly laid in nearly a month, but he couldn’t help but ogle the features of this stranger.



“Let me see if I can fix those glasses for you,” she said kindly.



“I left them on my bed and one of my kids thought it would be fun to jump into bed to wake me up from my nap,” he said with an uncomfortable chuckle, approaching the counter.



The associate raised a brow and smiled, “Your kids attack you while you’re resting? That is so unlike anything I’ve ever heard about kids,” she teased him. “Well, let me have a look and see what I can do.”



She looked him over quickly. A man in his late thirties, some grey speckling in his brown hair, good height, his nose was large but it fit his strong features, and pretty darn handsome in a black sweater-vest, gray shirt, and tie. “Well hello there, handsome,” she thought to herself.



He came up to the front of the counter and took his glasses off his face, thanking God his vision wasn’t terrible and he could still look at the sales girl. He handed his spectacles to her and squinted at her etched silver name-tag, “Thanks, Maggie.”



“You’re welcome, sir,” she said looking at the bent earpieces. “I’m going to use the heat and bend these back into shape for you. I do have glasses, just wearing contacts today. You can trust me,” she winked.



Maggie smiled as John chuckled at her comment and turned around. She took a few short steps to the machine and turned it on, as she walked her hips swayed gently.



John got a slightly fuzzy, but good look at her legs for the first time, he looked down to her nude stockinged calves, “Are those stockings or pantyhose?” he wondered.



Maggie bent over just a bit as she used the machine, the slit on the back of her skirt opened up and he got a glimpse of lace stocking tops on her thighs. “Stockings! Fucking goldmine!” his inner voice screamed.



Suddenly his mind was invaded with visions of her bent over the counter and him plowing her from behind with her skirt pulled up over her hips. She continued working and he fantasized about the color of her bra and panties, if she was a moaner, if she talked dirty, and if she was wearing garters.



Maggie felt his eyes on her; enjoying the attention, she smiled to herself. She purposely bent over a little further and arched her back just a little bit more than she needed to. Her ass lifted up in the air for him, nonchalantly drawing more attention to her as she bent the earpieces back into proper shape.



His heart sped up a little and he closed his eyes, committing the view of her curved ass and hips to memory. His mouth had gone dry as he admired her body.



John’s collar felt tighter around his neck, his mind running rapid as he waited patiently, and his cock stirring under his black slacks. He imagined pulling on her brunette mane and spanking that round bum as he fucked her juicy pussy. He wanted to fuck her on top of the counter, her legs pulled back so he could dig deep into her holes, her lavender heels above her head.



He wanted to fuck this young woman properly, ravaging her body and make her scream. His cock was swollen and strained against his slacks. He wanted to do things to her he could never get from his wife.



Maggie turned around and John coughed. She smiled a knowing smile, blushing a little. “You should be all set, lets take a look at these on your face first,” she said a bit flustered, giggling at herself.



John leaned over a bit and let her slide his glasses onto his face, closing eyes to clear his thoughts. Maggie bit her lip in concentration sliding her fingertips along his temples, setting the earpieces behind his ears.



His nostrils opened, breathing in her scent as she moved in closer. She smelled like pure and clean soap. No fruit or flowery scents, just honest soap. She smelled natural, heavenly and intoxicating. He looked down for a moment and caught a glimpse of her breasts underneath her shirt, pushed up in her bra with shiny black satin cups. His inner voice praising the view as her soft, delicate hands adjusted the glasses carefully on his face.



“Look at me,” Maggie said taking her hands away from his face.



John cleared his throat, thinking he’d been caught looking. He raised his soft green eyes to hers. The hazel of her eyes was a gentle blend of brown and green. He found himself lost in them.



“Sorry,” he said, blushing.



Maggie smirked, “Nothing to be sorry for, I just need to make sure they fit properly.”



“Oh, oh, yes, of course,” John held still as she looked over the frames. He blinked a few times and took a few glances around at random places, feeling his eyes readjust slightly.



“Would you like me to clean these for you, too?” she asked and rubbed her glossed lips together. She gently pulled them off his face before he could answer and reached for a bottle of lens cleaning spray.



“That would be fantastic, thank you,” he smiled.



Maggie sprayed the lenses and picked up a cloth, her arms squeezed her breasts together as she cleaned his glasses. John couldn’t help but ogle her cleavage line that came further up her chest. He imagined what her tits would look like painted with his cum.



She handed him his glasses back with an innocent smile, “Anything else you need today, sir?”



“No, thank you, Maggie,” he said slipping his glasses on and blinking at the clarity. “You don’t have to call me sir, I’m John. John Gottschalk, or Professor Gottschalk on my better days.”



Maggie smiled and chewed her lip for a moment, twirling a brown lock on her finger. “Professor Gottschalk,” she said with a slight bow of her head, “well, it’s been my pleasure.”



He looked at her eyes one more time before leaving, she looked so innocent, but under he wondered what filthy rotten things she hides. “Thank you very much, have a great evening,” he said calmly.



“You too. If you need anything else, we’ll be here.” she said smiling.



John turned and left the office feeling giddy. His lips were curled into a huge grin and his mind was filled with fantasies of the cute, young optician. He could still feel her hands touching his face and her aroma in his nostrils. She flirted with him, gave him that bit of attention that no one could take away from him, something he’d been lacking for the past while at home.



He headed home and took a quick shower before his wife got back. While soaping up he let his mind run free with the image of Maggie pleasuring him. He stroked himself to the thought of enjoying her body in the shower. His imagination ran wild, with her on her knees, his cock in between in her pouty lips, hot water running down his back. He wanted to push her up against the tile wall and thrust in and out of her, feeling her limbs wrapped around him, the steam from the hot water filling the air. He imagined shooting his load into her cunt. Instead, his load was wasted, pulled apart by the current of the hot water and jettisoned down the drain.



As days passed, Maggie continued to think about her customer. She spent her downtime at work daydreaming of him. She knew he was married. She saw his ring and he talked about his children. “There’s nothing wrong with some innocent flirtation, right?” was one of many thoughts in her head.



Saturday night, John got an urgent phone call to go to an early season Chicago Blackhawks game. John convinced his wife to let him go have a guy’s night. He took this opportunity and went out for a night of beer and hockey with his good buddy William. Between the first and second period, they got overpriced beer refills out on the concourse. As the men made their way to their seats, they checked out women in the arena walking by in heels that aren’t meant for sporting events. They joked with each other about John’s wife giving him a hard time about going out tonight as they sat back down.



John and William took their seats in the eighth row from the ice. They were stationed above the penalty boxes.



Early into the second period, the Blackhawks scored and the crowd rose up in jubilation. Unfortunately, one of William’s wayward arms collided with John’s refreshing beverage. He stared out in horror as his entire beer rained down upon the woman one row in front of him.



The woman screeched, cold beer soaking her shoulder to her stomach. She quickly turned around, her brown hair swishing through the air. She glared at him for soaking her shirt, “What the hell?”



The Fratelli’s “Chelsea Dagger” blared on in the background as John’s cup spun to a stop at his feet.



“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” John yelled quickly.



The woman lowered her glare as she recognized him at the same time he did for her.



“Oh, Maggie?!” he asked nervously, trying to rise above the sudden din of the crowd. The woman he had imagined naked countless times in the last few days right in front of him.



The joyous crowd finally quieted down for John and Maggie to talk.



“I’m so sorry,” he fumbled to find the extra napkins he stashed for his nachos earlier. “I’m so sorry, please let me buy you a new shirt or something. I’m so sorry, you don’t deserve to be soaked all night,” he said, noticing her wet chest and the apparent lines of her bra underneath her black t-shirt as he handed her the napkins.



Maggie blotted the stain on her shirt, getting a hint of butterflies; she blushed for no other reason. “Yeah, I don’t really want to smell like beer the rest of the evening.”



“Are you okay?” Maggie’s girl friend asked.



“Yeah, yeah I’m fine. This is John, he came into the office earlier this week,” she introduced her friend to the man that had been occupying her thoughts, “John, this is Liz.”



John nodded and smiled, “Nice to meet you Liz, sorry it’s because I soaked your friend.”



William cleared his throat, wanting to get in on the conversation between his friend and two pretty young women. His eyes focused on Liz. She was blonde and petite with delicious curves that hugged the hips of her jeans and the chest of her red Blackhawks shirt.



“This is my buddy William. This is Maggie; she adjusted my glasses this week, and her friend, Liz.”



William took note of Maggie’s bubbly blonde friend with a smile of appreciation. Liz batted her eyelashes flirtatiously as she was introduced.



“Come on, let’s get you a new shirt. I told my kids I’d buy them something tonight, anyway,” John said.



Maggie stood up, her shirt half wet with beer and her medium wash boot-cut jeans hugged her bum. John raised a brow and smiled, committing another vision to his memory. Both of them told their friends they’d be back shortly. Maggie followed John up the stairs of the loud arena, thinking about giving his ass a squeeze through his khakis. “You really don’t have to do this, I’ll be okay. I was joking about smelling like beer,” she said as they entered into the concourse area.



They walked next to each other on the way to the souvenir shop. “I know I don’t have to. But I’m a gentleman,” he smiled.



“A gentleman who wants a free wet t-shirt contest,” Maggie teased him.



She unconsciously grabbed his hand and stepped in front of him, leading him through a crowd of people. John was shocked; her hand was so soft and small fitting inside his palm. He grinned and took her lead, savoring the slight touch of another woman. She expertly darted in between standing lumps of people, tugging him behind.



Maggie blushed and pulled her hand out of his when they got through the crowd, “I’m sorry. I just didn’t want to lose you.”



“It’s quite all right, being led around by a pretty girl doesn’t happen often for me,” he said.



She smiled as he opened the door to the souvenir shop, thanking him with a bow as she passed inside.



“So you have kids, how old are they?” Maggie asked as she looked through the racks of women’s t-shirts.



John stayed closely behind admiring how she gracefully moved. “Three kids, ten, eleven, fourteen.”



Maggie looked over and raised a caramel brow, “Oh, I assumed younger from them jumping on your bed, like you said.” She pulled a shirt off the rack, looked at it carefully and put it back.



John chuckled, “Well, I lied. I rolled over my glasses, I thought it was a better story.” He picked up a standard red team logo shirt for his wife.



She shook her head and laughed, “I may have to report you to my manager!”



Maggie smirked and turned back to a set of shirts. She hummed softly as she picked out a dark grey fitted t-shirt with vibrant red and golden yellow diamonds in an argyle print and Chicago Blackhawks, printed in script at the breast.



“Ooh. This one’s cute,” she said softly, peeking over at him, wanting his approval.



He watched her pull the shirt off the rack and drape it over herself; grinning as he watched her.



Maggie looked at the price tag tucked far inside the collar of the shirt, grimacing a little. “It’s thirty-five dollars, that’s too much.”



“If that’s the one you like, get it. I think it will look good on you, and you can always remember me.”



She looked down at the shirt again and back at him, “Thank you. You are very kind, John.”



He hung on her words, the way she said his name wasn’t how he’d ever heard it before. Her tone gained eroticism when she said it and it turned him on. It might be the gentle southern charm in her voice that he wasn’t used to, “You’re not from here, are you?”



Maggie walked through the little store taking her time browsing, “That is correct,” she looked over at him, “I’m from Texas, moved here about two years ago when the company I work for opened a new store. Do I sound like a hick?”



“No. No, it’s very nice. You don’t sound like a hick at all,” John said, reassuring her. He looked at her feet as she browsed through the kids’ stuff, reaching up to pull something off a rack in her silver ballet flats. “Chicago is a long way from home, how was the move for you?”



Maggie stayed on her tip-toes, scanning through the shirts on the top rack, “It was hard at first when I didn’t know anyone. But I thought of it like an adventure.”



“We all need adventure in our lives,” John said, approving of her stretched legs and the contour of her bum.



“Do you have girls?” Maggie asked coming back down flat-footed.



John blinked a few times focusing again on the conversation. “Yeah, the older ones are girls.”



She pointed to a high rack for him to get something down from a higher up rack, a stylish black t-shirt with the noble Blackhawk’s logo faded. “They’d like those, I think.”



He reached up to take down two girls shirts, “I’d like you,” John’s mouth said before his brain could catch up.



He felt the heat rise on his cheeks as Maggie’s mouth dropped open in surprise, a shimmer of light on her silver tongue bead caught his eye.



Maggie fluttered her eyelashes trying to think of something to say. “Oh wow,” she gasped quietly.



John pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes for being blunt. Maggie’s lips kiss his cheek ever so lightly, sending warmth through his being.



“It’s okay,” she whispered then stepped back. “Let’s get something for your son.”



John nodded apologetically and held the shirt hangers on his fingers making his way to the novelties. Maggie followed close behind looking at posters. John rummaged through the mini hockey stick varieties.



“Does he have a favorite player? Or something more artsy like this ‘original six’ poster?” Maggie asked pulling out a tubed poster.



John smiled and settled on a hockey stick, “So am I going to tell my kids that this cute girl picked out all their souvenirs?” he teased her.



Maggie rolled her eyes playfully, “They will wonder how you suddenly got such good taste.” She handed him the poster and they walked to the register. While the cashier rang them up, they stayed quiet as Maggie and John exchanged a smile usually reserved for new couples. Then, he thanked the cashier and took his over-sized bag and gave Maggie the smaller one with her shirt inside.



They walked side by side until they neared the restroom. “I’m going to hop in there and change real quick,” she said.



“Of course, I’m going to grab a few more beers and I’ll meet you back here,” John answered.



Maggie headed off to the restroom to switch shirts and give her hair a quick brushing. John bought four beers and carried them in the holding tray. Maggie smiled as she came out seeing him coming up to her.

“That looks really good on you. I told you it would,” he smiled back and they went back down into the arena.



The Zamboni was cleaning the ice when they returned. Liz and William had chosen to sit next to each other on the lower row to watch the game together. John and Maggie filed into the upper row and sat down behind their friends.



John handed out the beers and Maggie tapped her friend on the shoulder and waved “hi,” as she sat next to her crush. Liz smiled and mouthed, pointing to William, “he’s cute.” Maggie winked and rested back into her seat.



They enjoyed their semi-alone time for a few minutes, sipping beer and talking while their friends took pleasure in each other’s company.



Maggie stayed close, leaning to her left but keeping enough distance. She felt oddly comfortable at his side, listening to his voice and her heart fluttered. “What do you teach?” she asked against his ear in the loud arena.



He leaned in against her earlobe and she closed her eyes as he told her about his career. “History. Early history, medieval is my specialty. Barbarians, the Crusades, Christianity in the middle ages, things of that nature,” John said.



“That’s sexy,” Maggie replied.



The Blackhawks scored again on a power play and the crowd rose up in cheer, breaking off their conversation. Shouting and singing ensued.



The uproar died down and both couples settled back down in their seats. Liz patted Maggie’s knee and giggled in a bubbly blonde sort of way and went back to her handsome “date.”



John leaned back, “Was that a joke?”



Maggie looked back at him as she slowly sank back in her chair. “What, you teaching history?” she asked.



John nodded taking a few gulps, finishing off his beer.



“Totally serious. There’s something very desirable about teachers,” she said quietly, making John lean in close to her mouth. “Professors specifically. You give the gift of knowledge and have a part in someone’s life. People respect you,” Maggie said as she trailed one finger lightly along his fingers on the armrest. “Professors are intelligent, dedicated and influential. I mean come on, how is that not sexy?”



John lifted his head and looked at his pretty, girl-next-door, fantasy woman, “You make it sound much better than it really is.”



Maggie shrugged and smiled, “I call it like I see it.”



The period ended quickly after and the fans celebrated a shut out win. William and John gave each other a “this is between us guys,” nod before escorting the ladies up the stairs and out of the arena. John picked up his souvenir bag and followed Maggie. The pairs parked on completely opposite sides so they said goodbye outside the gate.



“I really enjoyed spending some time with you,” Maggie said softly. “I guess I’ll see you around sometime.”



“If we’re lucky,” John said sadly. “I enjoyed myself too.”



He looked over at his unmarried friend occupied with Liz. He kissed Maggie’s cheek and she closed her eyes, appreciating the feel of his lips and goatee on her face.



He pulled back and blushed, “Goodnight.”



Maggie smiled, “Goodnight, John.”



They stepped away from each other and rounded up their friends. On the car ride home, Liz chatted about William, practically giving Maggie a rundown of everything about him. Maggie politely nodded, keeping things about John to herself as she listened to her friend.



When Maggie got home she stood in front of her full-length mirror, admiring her new shirt. She ran her hands down her curves and turned slightly to the slide. She looked at herself and her new shirt, “Something to remember you by,” she said to herself.



John was running wild in her thoughts. She was completely drawn to him after just a small amount of time spent together. “He’s married. He’s off limits. Don’t do anything stupid Maggie,” she kept telling herself.



Maggie pulled herself away from the mirror and pulled her shirt off her head, shaking her beer stained hair. She wore a shiny pink satin bra that stood out against her milky flesh as she undid her jeans and shimmied them down her hips, revealing her equally shiny pink panties. “I wonder what sorts of things he’d like,” she said out loud to herself, stepping out of her jeans.



Maggie walked across her nicely decorated bedroom. She had been quite happy with the soft purple walls. Her apartment was quant, but it was home. She sat down on the edge of her bed, leaning over to pull open the second drawer of the bamboo style nightstand. Inside were her toys, handcuffs, a few vibrators of various colors and styles and her vibrating tongue ring in its plush case.



She picked out a thin, curved rubbery plastic hot pink vibrator, the curve led to the bulbous head on the end. Then she turned the dial on the bottom to make sure the batteries still had juice. After she was satisfied she turned it off and set it in the middle of her bed.



She turned on the bedside lamp and leaned up on her knees to pull the light on the fan, turning it off. Once her room was pleasantly dimmed, she reached behind her back unclasping her bra and dropped it on her mattress. Maggie laid back on her queen size bed, settling into her pillows.



She opened her knees a small bit and rubbed her palm against her pussy over her panties. She bit her lip as her eyes closed, letting her mind go to John. Her fingers stroked over her panty covered labia, a rush of warmth settling over her.



Her mind brought her to a fantasy of fucking John in his office and she slipped her panties off and kicked them away. She had grown wet and dipped her fingers between her lips collecting some of her juices. Then she trailed her fingers over her clit, drawing elicit moans as she rubbed it with calculated care. Her clit jewelry, slickened by her own arousal, teased against the hidden contours of her nub.



Her thoughts drifted to her kneeling beneath his desk, throbbing hardness behind her tight lips. She knew she had skills that would make him groan and lose his breath. Maggie reached over and picked up her vibrator and brought it to her mouth. Her fingers continued to rub her clit, collecting more juices by slipping her fingers into her tight, squishy hole.



Maggie kept her eyes closed and licked the head of her toy and sucked it into her mouth, picturing sucking John’s cock. She wondered how big he was and imagined showing him her tricks she picked up over time. Her fingers slipped down to her cunt and she began steadily fingering herself. She was wetter than she had been in ages.



She smeared her fingers along her walls, softly pumping her fingers in and out. Her spread knees buckled a little as she began thinking of John eating her pussy as she was sitting on his desk. She turned on her vibrator and brought it to her clit. Its buzz made her moan and squirm.



“Oh god, professor,” she moaned. “You’ll make me feel so good, won’t you?”



Maggie circled around her clit with the head of her toy still fingering herself. Her cheeks became flushed and she rubbed her head against her pillows, arching her back with the pleasures she was giving herself.



She slid her fingers out of her slick hole and brought them to her mouth, tasting her own juices, “You’d love how I taste, professor,” she whimpered.



Maggie moved her vibrator down to her cunt; her heart was fluttering in her chest. She pushed the toy inside and began working it in her hole. She fucked herself with it and clicked the barbell of her tongue ring against her teeth. In her mind, John was fucking her on his desk, biting all over her neck, telling her how good she felt.



“Oh fuck me, John, Fucking fuck me,” she screamed out into her bedroom.



She dragged her heels across the sheets and her moans became more intense. She rubbed the toy against her g-spot as she pumped it inside herself. Her cunt was pulsing around the vibrator, making it harder to continue pushing it inside.



“Fuck, fuck,” she moaned, “you’re going to make me cum, professor.”



Her walls pushed the toy out and she dropped it between her thighs. She quivered and groaned as her cunt squirted her hot cum out of her. Her sheets got soaked and she was left shuddering in post-orgasm bliss. A sweet smile curled on her lips and she lay there for a minute, letting her heart calm down. Then she rolled over onto a dry area of her bed and drifted off to sleep smiling happily, thinking about John.



The next morning Maggie woke from her blissful sleep and cursed herself for sleeping in her contacts. She stretched her nude body, extending her arms above her head as she lay in bed, rubbing her head in the pillows and arching her back. She rolled out of bed to the shower, tossing her sheets and comforter across the bed.



Maggie opened the door to her bathroom and stepped onto the soft green shag rug in front of her sink. After brushing her teeth, and applying drops to her red eyes, she stepped over to another rug and pulled open her clear with retro style green circles shower curtain. One color matched her rugs, the other a complimenting darker green. After turning the water on she let it warm up for a few moments before stepping inside the garden bathtub. She let the hot water run over her body, waking herself up.



As she massaged shampoo into her hair John crept back into her thoughts. “I wonder what school he teaches at. Well, no harm in doing a little personal search on the internet,” she talked quietly herself, leaning in and out of the hot water, rinsing her hair. “A little search wouldn’t hurt anyone.”



Maggie let her mind wander while she conditioned her hair, and then lathered her body in exfoliating Dove body wash. She carefully cleaned her body enjoying the fresh smell of soap, cleansing her body of the previous day. “That wouldn’t be creepy, not like I’m going to just show up and stalk him outside his office.” She turned off the water and slid into her coral pink bathrobe, letting it dry her body as she blotted her hair dry with a towel.



Maggie picked out a thin white snug little t-shirt and a pair of simple black cotton boy shorts. Her typical loungewear was a t-shirt and panties. She let her hair air-dry and slipped into her minimal outfit. After hanging up her robe she slipped on her black, cute-nerdy-girl-style glasses.



She strolled into her living room and dug her phone out of her purse. She texted her mom back about dinner tonight then opened up her laptop. She went about her daily internet activities then made a bowl of cereal in her kitchen.



Maggie’s apartment was adultly decorated; she took pride in her home. The couch and chaise lounge were both black soft velour. The walls were a soft shade of green; she would have to repaint her apartment when she moved out. She decorated the walls with paintings and black wood shelving covered in books and picture frames.



She plopped back down on the couch and flipped on the television, settling on a news show. She munched on her Rice Crispies and did a google search on her crush. She quickly found his faculty page out of the several universities in the Chicago area.



She read about him, where he earned his various degrees from, what his area of focus is. His faculty picture showed him a few years ago with a younger, happier, dorky smile and longer curly hair. Maggie giggled and smiled as she looked at his gentle eyes. She closed her eyes and let her cunt tingle thinking about him for a moment. “Nothing wrong with a little fantasy,” she smiled to herself, and then wrote down his office number and building.



She chose not to write down his phone number or e-mail address. That would be too much too soon. She did, however, search the campus map for the location of his building and saved the page to her bookmarks for easy finding later.



She folded the piece of paper with his information into her wallet and went about her day.



Tuesday evening, after work, Maggie went to the grocery store to pick up a few necessities for baking snicker doodle cookies. She passed through to the dairy area and saw him. Her heart fluttered into her throat, and she debated if she should talk to him or not.



John saw her a second later. Maggie waved to him and took a step towards him. Panic flashed across the professor’s face, and he quickly shook his head, surprising his younger friend. With an armful of cheese, John’s wife returned, dumping it into the cart. Maggie ducked into the nearby aisle, and listened in on the conversation.



What followed was quite predictable. John’s wife spent most of the time complaining about the mothers of their children’s friends. This went on for the two minutes that Maggie eavesdropped on the conversation.



John and wife finally dispersed, and Maggie was able to quickly collect a dozen eggs.



She hurried to the floral section and picked out two gerber daises, one pink and one white. She held them to her nose, smelling their sweet aroma as she walked to the card section. She thought about John. Maggie picked up a little pink card, simple and plain. After she concluded her shopping she hurried to the registers, avoiding John. One run-in was enough for today, especially with his wife there.



The next morning she woke up early. She didn’t have to work until noon, but this morning she was going to John’s office. Maggie hopped out of bed, anxiously. She hurried in the shower and blow-dried her hair before slipping into a pair of grey pinstripe slacks and a white sweater with a pink collared shirt underneath.



Maggie’s heart was racing as she opened up her laptop to check the campus map once more, double checking the building’s location. She slipped on her glasses and stepped into her pink pumps. She looked in her fridge then closed it, “I’ll get breakfast after,” she said to herself. Then she plucked the daises out of a small vase on her coffee table, the card attached by a thin and curly, white gift-wrap ribbon wrapped around the flowers. She picked up the scotch tape she had set on the table the previous night and grabbed her purse, hurrying out the door.



The drive seemed like an eternity, though it was only a few miles away. Maggie wasn’t used to morning commuters on top of her time constraint. Her heart pounded in her chest, making it hard for her to breathe as she wandered among the buildings, wide-eyed, taking in everything in for the first time. She checked her watch and rushed several more yards to a brown stone building with large windows. She looked at the sign and back down at her paper “224,” she said aloud and went inside.



The building was quiet as she looked around for the stairwell, finding it just behind the wall with chairs lined up against it. Maggie took a deep breath and headed up the stairs, carefully climbing up in her heels. She arrived on the second floor, it was quiet but a few office doors were open with lecturers and professors checking up on e-mails and getting ready for their classes. Maggie walked quietly as she could, wanting to bring as little attention to herself as she could as she passed by the open offices.



She set her purse down softly in front of the office labeled 224. She glanced at the nameplate that read “John Gottschalk” next to the door and the schedule posted underneath. Maggie carefully taped the daises to the door, the pink one layered just under the white one, giving each one’s petals enough space. The card dangled on its ribbon against the door. Maggie gave it a little tug to make sure it wouldn’t fall off then pressed her hand softly on the door before scurrying off back down the hall.



Maggie checked her watch, hurrying to get out of the area before he’d possibly see her. She returned to her white Jetta and headed off to breakfast to snag a bagel.



When John arrived at his office, he saw the flowers on his door as he came down the hall. He smirked and set his brief case down against the door and cautiously peeled the tape from the door. He looked over his shoulders before he opened the card, inside in bubbly handwriting it read “From your secret admirer” and a little heart drawn under the words. John took a quick smell of the flowers before opening his office door. He had a good feeling who they were from and smiled big at the attention she was giving him.



Between classes in the afternoon John masturbated in his locked up office. He daydreamed of Maggie riding him in his executive chair, her pretty brown locks bouncing on her shoulders as she whimpered, digging his cock into her. His hand glided along his shaft, groaning softly to himself as his eyes closed. He imagined her smooth cunt gripping his cock as he held her ass, fucking her deep. He quickly rubbed one out into a tissue and cleaned up before his next class.



Friday afternoon, Maggie stopped at a local coffee shop after work. She saw John sitting outside, seemingly alone, in what looked like the same slacks and sweater vest he had worn during their first meeting. John looked up from his laptop as he heard her approaching and smiled.



“Fancy meeting you here,” John said, looking Maggie over in her black dress and white cardigan.



Maggie smiled, “Are you alone?” she asked then took a sip of her latte.



John pushed some papers over on the table, making room for her to sit down. “Yes, madam,” he replied.



She nodded and sat down next to him, admiring a stack of what seemed to be student’s papers. “A professor’s job is never done?” she teased him.



“It’s done when I want it to be,” John said sipping his black coffee. “Or when the students get ancy.”



Maggie crossed her legs and leaned to her right, towards John, “Do you mind some company?”



John shook his head, “Of course not, but I need to ask you a question first.”



“What’s that?” Maggie asked, raising a brow.



“Did you do some stalking and leave flowers on my office door the other day?” he asked writing a grade at the top of a paper then looked over at Maggie.



She blushed.



“Well?” he asked again putting the cap on a red pen, putting it down on top of the stack of papers.



“Maybe, maybe I did,” Maggie said, smiling softly.



John smiled, “I thought it was you.”



Maggie sipped her latté quietly, grinning behind the cup.



“Why did you do it Maggie?” he asked.



“Because you deserve to smile,” she replied softly, raising her eyes to John’s.



John looked at her pretty hazel eyes, part of him wanted to grab her and take her into the restroom and fuck her silly. But he pushed those thoughts away, “I smiled all day, thank you.”



“I’m glad I could help.”



They began talking about his work, plans for the weekend and standard coffee shop conversation. Eventually, Maggie had to know, “So, tell me about your wife.”



“My wife,” John looked at her slightly puzzled, “what do you want to know?”



Maggie made a thoughtful face and finished up her drink. “About her, about you and her, about your relationship.”



John sighed and fingered the insulator sleeve on his coffee cup, “Well, we’ve been married fifteen years and I’ve begun to split my days into good days and divorce days,” he said softly. Maggie listened intently as he continued. “It’s more often bad days.”



Maggie nodded, showing concern, “Do you fight a lot?”



John shook his head, “Arguments, no. But non-verbal quiet fights, yes. She’s my wife and I love her. But now-a days…”



Maggie reached over and gently set her hand on top of his, squeezing softly.



“It’s probably almost over, I don’t know how much longer we can last. Or, I should say, I can last like this.”



Maggie gulped, “I’m sorry.”



John squeezed her hand back, “Don’t be, it’s not your fault,” he smiled reassuringly.



She nodded, “Just do what makes you happy because you deserve it.”



John nodded back with his new friend and changed the subject, “Oh, this might sound silly, but I have a band.”



“A band?” Maggie asked, keeping her hand softly cupped in his.



John grinned, “Yes, a band. More like, friends getting together and playing to let off steam.”

Maggie playfully smiled, “What do you play?”



“Bass.”



Maggie’s smile widened as she rubbed her slender fingers against John’s long callused fingers, “Bass, huh? You keep upping your sexy meter.” She felt his fingers, her mind wandering to how they would feel inside her.



John laughed, “Well, I’m not sure about that.”



“I am,” she said with a twinkle in her eye making John blush.



He cleared his throat before continuing, “Well, we have an open mic night show next Friday…” he trailed off.



“Is that an invitation, professor?”



John nodded, “I’d be very pleased if you came.”



Maggie let go of his hand, reached onto the pile for his red pen and wrote her e-mail address down on a napkin, “Send me the information, I’d love to come.” She folded up the napkin and smiled handing it to John.



John took the napkin and put it into his pocket. He looked down at his watch, “Damn, I was supposed to be home ten minutes ago to start dinner. I’m sorry Maggie, but I have to run,” he said loading up his laptop quickly and the papers and notes into his bag.



Maggie watched him scramble and picked up both their cups from the table and threw them in the trash. “I’ll see you next week, then.”



John stood and walked out of the coffee shop with Maggie, “I just hope I don’t embarrass myself in front of such a pretty lady as you.”



She chuckled and got her keys from her purse, “I’m sure you won’t. Have a good night, John,” she said and they both went to their cars.



As the week passed both Maggie and John continued having recurring daydreams about each other. Maggie wanted him: inside her, around her, over her. She longed for his lips on hers. She became infatuated with thoughts of him. She could go out of her way to see him, but she didn’t. Constantly she reminded herself he was married. Could she be the other woman? Did she have that in her? It’s just, so, wrong. But, when she thought about him, she pined for him. “I’ll be good. He’s married, it would be his decision to cheat, not mine,” she thought as she went to sleep Thursday evening.



John spent his week in and out of class, busy with his kids and attending open house at the eldest’s school. To his surprise, his wife came onto him Wednesday morning before she had to leave for work. He started slow with his wife, mounted between her thighs, driving his cock in and out of her. John used his fingers, tickling her clit as she moaned and sighed beneath him. She orgasmed quickly as her husband drove into her carefully digging himself inside her. Her cunt quivered and clenched around him.



Once she was satisfied, he picked up the pace. Unlike their usual lovemaking sex, he began ramming her, grunting as the force grew. He fucked her hard, thinking of Maggie, fucking his wife how he dreamed of fucking Maggie.



His wife groaned in disgust as he used her. She tried to get him to stop, complaining that she would be late for work. But he didn’t stop. He rammed and pounded into his wife, eyes closed, blocking out her pleas. He roared as he let out his built up seed into his wife, panting as she stared up at him wide eyed and terrified about what came over her husband.



John rolled over onto his back and smiled. His wife was stunned for a moment before shaking her head and crawling out of bed.



Friday was an eternity for both John and Maggie. The weather had turned colder, a hint at the upcoming winter. Finally, the sun had begun to set as Maggie drove to the edge of downtown to a quaint bar’s address she had written down. She wondered if his family would be there, if this was really a good idea. She parked her car and checked her makeup one last time in the flip-down mirror before slipping out into the parking lot. As she walked up the sidewalk, she grew nervous and clasped her hands into fists inside her coat pockets.



Maggie fumbled with her wallet to get her ID out of its window sleeve. She smiled as she handed it to the doorman.



He looked it over and looked at Maggie, “Twenty-six, I wouldn’t have guessed,” he said as he handed her ID back.



Maggie smiled and put it back into her wallet, “Thanks, I get it all the time,” and she passed into the bar.



Her heart fluttered as she looked around, unbuttoning her coat due to the warmth of the stuffy bar, exposing the full length of her dress. Her tea length dress sat just below her knees. Mostly white with a black flower pattern that grew thicker as the skirt of her dress flowed out. A black petticoat peaked out under the hem of the skirt and a dark red sash clenched high on her waist, tied at her back. Maggie looked for a small empty table and draped her coat over the back of the chair and hopped into the high seat, crossing her stockinged legs and hooking the heel of a black strappy stiletto into the bar of the chair.



Maggie’s eyes darted around and she felt her face heat up, a mix of nervousness and the over working heater making her go flush. A chipper waitress stopped by and took her drink order, and promptly returned with an Absolut screwdriver. Maggie thanked her and spun the straw in her drink looking around for John.



Suddenly she saw him out of the corner of her eye, his unmistakable face complete with a coarse goatee framing his mouth accenting his thicker nose. She tried not to stare, watching him talk with his wife. His kids climbing on him, too big to do so, but he didn’t seem to mind. Maggie smiled to herself with the straw between her lips.



He hugged his kids goodbye, who seemed to wish him luck, and kissed his wife gently on the lips. Maggie sank in her seat as she felt like someone had stabbed her with a knife when she saw him kiss her. She knew he was taken, even married. But she never thought she’d see him kiss her.



Maggie sucked the rest of her drink down and the waitress took note, returning with another. Maggie thanked her and tried to take deep breaths, closing her eyes to shake the hatred for a woman she didn’t even know rising inside her. Was she jealous of her? Why would she be jealous, it’s just silly? He had never lied to her. Maggie considered leaving, she didn’t know if she was up for this, whatever this was.



She saw John’s wife, seemingly happy, approach her. Maggie straightened out as his middle daughter started skipping and hopped into a seat in front of her. His family piled into the chairs around the table. Maggie rubbed her fingers through the condensation on her glass and took a few more deliberate sips. She told herself she was being stupid as she heard his kids start talking to their mom about how excited they were, sipping on their Shirley Temples.



Maggie tried not to stare, but snuck glances at John’s wife. She wasn’t ugly, or pretty, she had aged as her children grew up and the last time she actually cared about her hair was probably her wedding day. She was of average size, and had a few wrinkles around her eyes that got deeper with each passing year.



John had emerged on stage with his band mates, one of whom was William, setting up his drum kit. They did some last minute set up and sound checks. More people had begun filling in the open areas in the bar until it was full. It was a rather large crowd for an open mic night.



Maggie continued watching him, studying the way he moved, so focused. She smiled, adoring his punk-teacher look; he wore a light blue untucked dress shirt hanging around the hips of his chinos and a dark blue striped tie that was tied oddly around his neck. He wore his glasses and Maggie smirked as he ran his hand through his curly hair before picking up his bass and putting the strap over his shoulder. “You’re so fucking sexy,” she whispered to herself.



John fumbled with the strings on his bass, tuning it. He looked out to the crowd, to his children and wife and smiled and waved. Then his eyes moved just a bit further and he saw Maggie sitting up with perfect posture, sipping a cocktail from the tiny straw between her lips.



His heart leapt. She had come. She was here for him and that meant everything to him. Maggie bowed her head just slightly and smiled as their eyes met. John puckered his lips, it was meant for her, but his wife sat directly in front and giggled in response.



The singer and guitarist, a man about John’s age but seemed to have less of his life taken by stress and family came up to the mic and said, “Sound check. Check, check. One, Two, check.”



There was a moment of pause and some sound work done. All four men fumbled around with their instruments. The crowd buzzed, unfocused. But Maggie’s eyes were stuck on John.



“Thanks for coming out everyone. We are The Ruffled Feathers. I hope you enjoy us,” the singer said.



Maggie chuckled at the band’s name then batted her eyelashes and looked at John from across the room. He bowed his head this time and she smiled big in response, giggling in a giddy schoolgirl way. It was too loud in the bar for anyone to hear her delightful squeal.



The Ruffled Feathers opened with a funky song. The lyrics were kind of mumbled but Maggie didn’t care. She watched John pluck the thick strings on his bass, his fingers slapping the strings and body of the instrument. He was crisp and precise even with the funky bass line. Maggie couldn’t have told you what the song was about, but she didn’t mind.



They played three songs, all rock with funk and jazz undertones. The band’s nervousness seemed to fade, as they got deeper into the set. During the songs John’s eyes would dart to Maggie as if he was playing to impress her. Maggie slowly sipped her drink listening to the music and smiling when he smiled at her.



Between each song the crowd clapped and cheered, apparently a lot of people liked The Ruffled Feathers. She noticed that his son had begun leaning against his mom like he was getting tired.



“We have one more song for you guys, stick around for Billy Beane’s Prospect Farm after this,” the singer said into the mic.



Silence lingered for a moment. Broken by the sound of John’s bass slowly pumping out a heavy, thick line. The rest of the band slowly came in. Maggie watched more intent than before, she felt the sexy thrum of the rhythm between her thighs grow into a slow crescendo with the song. Maybe it was that she was a little bit buzzed and the reverberations of the music flowed out into the audience but she rubbed her thighs together. The words to the song became a blur to her after the first few lines. The tingles in her body, everything, telling her she needed to have this man.



The music faded down to the same bass line the song began with and Maggie clapped loud with a huge grin painted on her face when they finished. The band got their equipment off the stage to make way for the next band.



Eventually, John returned from back stage and headed for his family. Maggie bit her lip, sipped her drink and patiently waited. She listened and watched him interact with his kids and wife. The woman he was married to seemed distant and just plain exhausted. His wife sat quiet while his daughters climbed into his lap hugging him, telling him how great he was. Maggie nodded to herself in agreement with their statements.



Suddenly the girls’ bliss was broken, “Come on girls, we need to head home. Johnny needs to get home, he’s not feeling very well.”



“But I wanna stay!” the oldest daughter protested, grabbing onto her father’s arm.



“Me too! Me too!” the other chimed in after her sister.



Maggie giggled quietly watching how cute his girls were.



John kissed both his daughters cheeks, “You two need to get home, its getting too late for little angels like you to be out.”



“Are you staying?” his wife asked coldly.



The girls piled out of John’s lap as he replied, “Yes, its proper etiquette to stay and watch the other bands.”



His wife rolled her eyes and sighed, preparing to shuffle the kids out of the bar before it became overcrowded with youth. “Don’t stay out too late. We have brunch with the Donaldson’s tomorrow.”



John nodded and got up, holding both his daughters hands as he walked his family out.



Maggie waited patiently for him to return, in the mean time she ordered and received another drink and spun the straws ritually. She was infuriated with how his wife acted towards him. “You can’t show him any love when he just stood up there and played in front of all these people? Fucking bitch. And what was that about not staying out too late? He’s not a kid,” she mumbled to herself as the next band began their sound check.



John returned and went to his friends. He knew Maggie was there but he had priorities. She saw him across the room at a table with his band mates, cheering and downing a beer with them. She stayed in her seat for several minutes before picking up her drink and purse and walking across the room, squeezing between tables and standing patrons.



Maggie tapped John lightly on the shoulder. He quickly spun around, his eyes widened at her striking beauty accented by her delicate dress. John’s friends looked at her like they had never seen a woman before.



“Hi,” she said with a soft smile.



“Hello,” he returned the smile, “I’m glad you came out.”



“I am too. You were great.” She looked out to his friends and winked at William, “You were all great,” she said before looking back up at John. “You didn’t embarrass yourself one bit.”



John chuckled, “Well, thank you.”



Maggie ran her fingertips lightly along his shirt covered forearm, “That last song, who wrote it?”



“I did, why?”



Maggie blushed, “It was a really hot song, I mean really hot. Made me get all tingly inside,” she whispered.



John cleared his throat but his voice remained husky, “Is that so?”



Maggie nodded, “Yes sir. But, um, I should probably be going,” she continued whispering.



He frowned and looked down at her, “Oh, that’s not good news, I wish you’d stay for a bit longer” he paused. “Let me walk you to your car.”



“I need to grab my coat, I’ll be right back,” she said as she pulled her hand away from his arm and walked back across the bar.



John smiled as she turned away and he went back to his friends finishing his beer.



The singer chided him, “She’s fucking hot, if you’re not going to bang that, I will.”



“Shut up,” John hissed.



William gave him a knowing smile and shook his head behind his beer.



“I’m just speaking the truth,” his friend continued leaning his head to the side to get a better view of Maggie as she walked across the bar and picked up her coat. “I mean come on, look at those legs, that ass, she’s pretty and I bet she screams real loud while a cock is being pounded into her tight little…” His words were cut off as John jabbed his elbow into his ribs.



“I said shut up,” he grumbled. “She’s a lady, and you don’t talk about ladies like that.”



His friend rubbed his side and surrendered, “Sorry, man. Sorry.”



John looked over at the door and saw Maggie waiting for him. He put some cash down on the table and told the guys to get a round on him. He walked over to her. His heart raced. Was his friend right? Did she scream like a silly slut when she was being fucked? Was her cunt so tight it could suck the life from him?



He shook his head to get those thoughts from his mind as he neared her and replaced them with a smile, “Maggie, I really wish you could stay a bit longer. I promise my friends don’t bite.”



Maggie laughed and buttoned her black, wool, trench coat up, the hem of her dress peeked out underneath, “I said I’d love to come see you play, but I do have to work in the morning,” she said with a smile as they walked out the door.



“Fuck!” they both grumbled as the cold wind hit them on the face outside.



Maggie shivered and John instinctively wrapped his arm around her, bringing her close at his side. It felt natural. They walked, locked together down the sidewalk.



“You look gorgeous tonight,” he said, smelling the sweet smell of her hair against his chest.



Maggie made a little giggle, “Thank you. And you’re handsome as ever.”



John left his coat inside but her warmth was all he needed for the moment. “Can I see you again?” he asked as they stepped into the parking lot.



“If we’re lucky,” she teased him repeating the same words he said to her two weeks ago, nuzzling her cheek into his chest.



John kissed the top of her head before he let her go from his embrace, suddenly freezing, he wrapped his arms around himself and hopped around like a little kid needing to use the restroom. He waited for her to dig her keys from her purse and open the door.



He held it open and helped her slide into the drivers seat, “You okay to drive?” he asked.



Maggie nodded, her voice clear, “Yes sir. Pinky promise,” she smiled and put the key into the ignition. The smile faded as the car clicked but wouldn’t turn over. “But, apparently my car isn’t.” She tried again several times before letting out a sigh and slumped back into her seat.



John looked down at her. Her lips were folded into the sweetest pout, and she was suddenly a damsel in distress needing to be saved.



He placed his hand on her shoulder, “Pop the hood, I’ll try giving you a jump. I’ll be right back with my car.”



Maggie nodded, still pouting.



John ran to his car across the parking lot. The professor parked his black family sedan nose to nose with Maggie’s white Jetta. The married man retrieved his jumper cables and attached the red to the red and the black to the black.



Maggie peeked her head out from the corner of her open door, “Thank you.”



John smiled, “You’re welcome.”



Then he went to his car and started revving the engine. He and Maggie worked together trying to pump juice into her battery. After several minutes he undid the cables and she tried to start the engine once more. Nothing.



“Fuck!” Maggie screamed from the drivers seat, slapping her hands on the wheel.



John came over to her and squatted down by her open door, he placed his hand, tentatively, on Maggie’s knee. “Hey, hey. It’s not a big deal. The battery is probably just shot. Tomorrow, just come up here with someone and change it out. I’m sure it will be just fine,” he said calmly, rubbing her soft skin under her stockings, his fingers caressing her flesh.



Maggie frowned and pouted out her bottom lip, looking over at him. “Thanks, for trying though. Let me call some friends and see who can come get me.”



John shook his head, “That’s absurd. I’ll take you home, Maggie.”



“Are you sure? I mean, I don’t want to put a damper on your evening with the guys.”



John’s fingers stretched out and grazed across the warm flesh of her low inner thigh, he wanted to push his hand further up, but he continued to just touch her softly.



“I am sure. It’s no trouble,” he smiled reassuring her.



Maggie whimpered softly at his touch. She ached for more; she ached for him to take her for his own and forget everything about his life, at least for a few moments. She simply nodded after a moment and slid out of her seat and locked up her car. He took her hand and helped her out, watching her dress cascade down around her knees, flowing perfectly with the gentle petticoat.



“I have to run inside and get my coat then I’ll be right back. Go ask the attendant how much it will be to keep the car overnight. You don’t want to get towed,” John said, he reached into his wallet and pulled out a few twenty-dollar bills.



Maggie looked at the money then back up at him, “You don’t have to, you’re already doing enough.” She pushed his hand back towards his pocket.



John grabbed her wrist and crumpled the money into her palm. “You came out here for me, it’s the least I can do. I’ll be right back, I promise.” he said, leaving the money in her hand and hurried back inside.



When he returned, Maggie was returning from the attendant with a little card in her hand. She opened her door, stuck the parking pass on the dashboard and locked up again.

John came to the passenger side and opened the door for her, the case for his bass slung over his shoulder. Maggie smiled and slid inside, though she couldn’t help but think about how many times his wife had sat in this seat before. She wanted to be here with him so she shook off the invading thoughts of his wife as she buckled her seatbelt.



John slid his bass into the backseat and went to the drivers side and plopped down in his seat, and then started up the car, “Where to?”



“I live off Nottingham. It’s not even a mile from the store where I saw you last week,” Maggie said as he pulled out of the parking lot and took a left.



“Gotcha. You know, that’s not too far from my place,” he said as he joined the other cars on the road and started heading to Maggie’s apartment.



His arm rested on the console, fingers drumming nervously on the gearshift. He didn’t know what he was going to do when they got back to her place; it all seemed too easy, too perfect.



An awkward silence lingered for several minutes and Maggie stared out the window, “That last song, the one I liked, is it new?”



John rolled to a stop at a red light and looked over at her. Her beauty illuminated by the city streetlights, “Yes it is. Why?”



Maggie kept her eyes out the window and fiddled with her fingers in her lap, “Did you write it for me?” she asked softly.



“Sort of. Yes. I mean, no. Well, yes,” he fumbled for words.



Maggie laughed and looked over at him, catching his eyes with hers, “Well, what is it? I don’t think I imagined its intensity.”



The light changed to green and John hit the accelerator. Maggie rested her hand on top of his, slowly drawing her fingers over the bones of his hand.



“When I wrote it, I was thinking about you, yes,” he admitted. “You are my muse, if you will. I wouldn’t say I wrote it for you, specifically,” his nerves tingled at her gentle touch. “But, I would say you inspired it.”



Maggie smiled and returned to looking out the window, watching people pass by in their cars. After a few moments she spoke, “I’m glad I can provide you with inspiration.”



The rest of the ride was filled with common conversation until they reached her apartment and she led him through other buildings to hers. They pulled into her assigned parking spot.



“Would you like to come in? I baked cupcakes; tomorrow is my work friend’s birthday. I have plenty. It’s the least I can do for all your kindness,” she said looking at him, longing to stay together if only a little longer.



John turned off his car and took a deep breath, avoiding eye contact with Maggie. He went over the pros and cons of a cupcake that could mean a lot more in his head before answering. “Maggie…”



“I’m so stupid. I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” she said rushing her words, shaking her head violently.



John squeezed her hand in an effort to calm her down, “Hey, hey, it’s okay. I’d love a cupcake.”



Maggie clenched her fingers around his hand, “Sorry, I just… Sorry.”



He leaned over and brushed a few stray chestnut strands from her face. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I’d love a cupcake, but first, tell me what kind it is.”



Maggie’s lips broke into a quivering smile, “Strawberry with cream cheese frosting.”



John made an approving sound and returned her smile. “Sounds delightful.”



They both unbuckled their seatbelts and Maggie led him across the courtyard to her apartment. They walked in silence, accompanied by the wind rulsting the trees.



She opened the door and let him inside, both of them too nervous to say anything. John looked around her apartment. The grown up decor was comforting. He knew she wasn’t an overgrown adolescent. She knew what she was doing, what she wanted and where she was going.



He watched her unbutton her coat and hang it in the coat closet by the door and walk to the bar to feed her four beta fish, each a different color and each in their own bowl. She glided across her apartment in her stilettos, her dress ruffling around her knees.



The apartment smelled of vanilla and cinnamon candles she had lit earlier. He was being welcomed into her home, her charm, her grace, and he wasn’t sure he would be able to control himself. He removed his jacket and draped it over the backrest of the chaise lounge.



“What are their names?” he asked as she fed the last fish.



Maggie turned and grinned, “This is Sammy,” she said pointing to the dark green fish, “Pinkie,” the pink one, “Hellfire,” the red one, “And this is Stinky, or Spot, but his nickname is Stinky cause he has the worst bowl to clean out.”



John came to her side and bent down to look at the separated fish, “My oldest, Abby, has a pink beta, like that one. He tries to jump out of his bowl too much for my comfort.”



Maggie giggled, “Yeah, I used to have one that liked attempted suicide as well. I put a screen over it and held it with a rubber band. It worked well.”



John smiled, “I can’t believe I didn’t think of that. Good tip. Thank you fish lady,” he teased her.



She shook her head and sashayed her way into the kitchen. John couldn’t help but watch her hips sway and enjoy the ruffle her petticoat gave. He eyed her stocking legs for the first time. He knew they were stockings, this time he was sure. His cock stirred in his khakis as he watched her move. He settled down onto the chaise to block his view and calm down.



Maggie returned with a white frosted cupcake and a napkin and handed it to John. “Enjoy,” she said with a warm smile and sat down next to him. She could feel her heart beating in her throat, making it hard for her to breathe.



John took a big bite out the cupcake, smearing icing into his mustache. “This is really good,” he said covering his mouth as he chewed.



She winked and patted his thigh, “I have more where that came from.”



John coughed and then took another nervous bite of his treat. Did she want him as badly as he wanted herWas this all his imagination built on a fantasy that turned into a deep-rooted infatuation? He didn’t know her well, but he knew he needed to have her. Somehow. He ate slowly, enjoying the perfect cupcake, in this perfect apartment, with this perfect woman.



Maggie looked at him shyly, like she wanted to say something but kept her lips sealed. He finished the treat and wiped his mouth with the napkin.



“John.”



“Yes, Maggie?”



She looked away for a brief moment then back at him, his face seemed to hide the angst bubbling inside him. “What time do you need to be home?”



He looked at his watch, “Sometime between now and an hour or so.”



Maggie rubbed her lips together before speaking, “Would you like to lay in bed with me?” John raised a brow. “Not sex, just lay in bed. I know it’s weird. I just want to lie together. I promise, I won’t do anything bad.”



John turned a bit flushed. He wanted to pick her up, take her to bed and ravish her. Not tonight. At least he didn’t think that would be tonight. “Sure,” he said.



Maggie stood and held out her hand for him to take and follow her into her room. He took it and followed close behind, watching her bum bounce as her hips swayed. He adored the red sash high on her waist and how it drew his attention to the curve of her chest. She looked over her shoulder to him as she opened the door to her bedroom.



Once again, he was delighted with the tranquility her apartment exuded. He stepped out of his shoes and left them below the foot of her bed. She chose the right side by her night table and sat down.



His pulse pounded as she crossed her legs and the skirt of her dress rode up and flowed down. He could see the taste of nude lace across her thighs a shiny purple garter attached. His cock stirred in reaction.



Maggie bent at her waist and leaned over, her cleavage inviting his eyes. He took a stuttering breath as she delicately unbuckled the ankle strap of her heels. Her bosom gave a delightful jiggle as she switched legs. John licked his lips as she took off her other shoe, and then pulled his eyes away. He went to the left and sat down on top of her crisp white down comforter.



He waited until Maggie laid back and he followed suit, falling into the soft fluffy pillows. Her bed was supportively soft. He always loved soft beds, but his wife wanted the really firm bed because it was better for her back. He let out a satisfied and content sigh.



Maggie smiled over at him, her hair beautifully draped across the pillows. She rolled over onto her side and softly laid her hand on his chest, stroking the silk of his tie. John scooted over a little, lessening the space between their bodies.



Maggie draped her leg over his, her fluffy skirt strewn over the bed. She closed her eyes breathing in his scent, complemented with light cologne. John closed his eyes and brought her closer with his arm around her back, hand resting on her side, just under the curve of her breast.



“John,” she said, looking up, trailing her fingers softly around the outline of his goatee.



His organ pulsed in his slacks as he ran his hand over her curve, fingers barely grazing the side of her bust. He felt the smooth fabric over her dress scratch under his roughened fingertips. He didn’t answer, instead he relaxed in the moment, her warmth against him, nervous but content with Maggie so close.



“I have a confession to make,” Maggie whispered, lifting her face so she could see his eyes. Their noses were close, barely nuzzling each other. “I’ve, um, I’ve been thinking about you since the day we met. I’m sorry, but I can’t help it.”



John blinked his eyes and lifted his hand, caressing her cheek, “I know, I’ve felt it too.”



Maggie rested her forehead against his, and laid her head on his pillow. Their lips so close. It felt like sparks were passing between them. “I want you, but it’s wrong. I need you, but you’re married. I don’t want you to cheat,” she said as she trailed her fingers down the buttons of his shirt, carefully feeling his body.



Their mouths brushed against the others as they spoke, too timid to press together, but oh, so close. Every touch made Maggie and John both grow warm.



“I’ve never thought about cheating,” John said slowly, the words making him sting inside. “But, I met you and now it’s all I can think about.”



Their pulses grew steadier in unison, audible in their breaths. John traced his fingers along the lines of her jaw and collarbone, his other hand holding her. Maggie’s nose brushed against his and her palm flattened and rubbed his lower stomach, fingers daring to keep going.



“I could care for you, John. Maybe even love you. I could give you what you need and desire,” Maggie said. Her words making John’s manhood ache as he fought with morality. “But I can’t and it hurts.”



John used his hand to angle her head down and pressed his lips against her forehead, “I know,” he said after gently kissing her.



Maggie pushed her fingers down, grazing over the erection evident beneath his pants. She rubbed for a moment, John let out a hoarse groan feeling her hand on him, knowing the pleasure it would bring.



Suddenly she pulled her hand away like she had touched something scalding hot, “Sorry. I’m sorry,” she said.



John took her wrist and shook his head. He placed her hand back over his crotch and she obediently massaged his strained cock.



“See what you do to me. Do you see how you make me feel?” John whispered.



She whimpered and rubbed her stockinged toes against his calf. Her hand cupped and rubbed against him.



John groaned, “No one else has touched me for fifteen years, Maggie.”



Maggie rubbed her thighs together under her dress, her panties damp. His arousal prominent to her, she felt the ridge of his head through the clothing.



“I want this so bad,” she whispered, stroking her hand against him, her fingers reaching all the way behind his balls. “I don’t want to be a bad person. I don’t want people to get hurt.”



John covered her forehead in tender kisses, moaning against her face as she groped him. “You’re not a bad person. Naughty, maybe, but not bad.” He leaned away from her so he could see her eyes. They looked so concerned, yet full of lust. “But not tonight. If this is going to happen, it won’t be tonight. I have to get home. But god, Maggie, I want you. But not tonight, okay?”



Maggie slowly pulled her hand away and nodded, “I understand.”



“Are you upset?”



“No,” she said. “I’m not. You’re married. I can never be upset. Just know there’s a girl here who wants you.”



John smiled, “Be a good girl for me. If this is right, it will happen.”



Maggie kept her eyes on his, biting her lip and nodding. “I’m sorry,” she said hesitantly.



“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. I took your invitation and came inside. I followed you to your bed. It’s choices Maggie. You didn’t make me do anything,” he said rubbing his thumb along her cheekbone. “You’re beautiful, you know that right?”



Maggie blushed and played coy, looking away.



John chuckled, “It’s true. And trust me, It’s hard to turn this down, but I have to get home.”



Maggie leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Let me walk you out.”



“I’d love that,” he said. He then sat up, leaving her warmth behind and got his shoes back on.



Maggie watched him, propped up on her elbow. She slid out of her bed when he was ready. John held out his hand and helped her out of bed. She led him into the living room. He put his jacket on and Maggie kept a soft smile on her lips though inside she was aching. This was reality.



They got to the door and John looked down at her. “Be a good girl, for me,” he said planting a kiss on the corner of her mouth.



“I’ll miss you,” Maggie whispered, reaching for the doorknob.



John nodded, “Just wait. The time will be right, someday.”



Maggie opened the door and let him out. He walked through the courtyard back to his car, unable to believe that he turned her down. Maggie locked up and went back into her room, undressed herself, leaving her clothing in a heap on the floor. She threw a pink t-shirt on with her purple lace panties and crawled into bed. She rested her head on the pillow he was using and fell asleep breathing in his scent.



Days passed slowly. Maggie felt like this was all a dream and didn’t want to push herself on him anymore. She fought with demons inside of her, begging her to act, begging her to do what she wanted.



On the way to work Wednesday morning, she found herself in the visitor parking lot of the university again. She picked up her purse and a sealed envelope out of the passenger seat and turned off her car. Her hands shook as she walked through the buildings. “Was this too much… Is this just a game?” she thought as she hurried through campus.



It was later this time. Late morning. It was too late for him to not have gotten to his office yet. She took a deep breath that came out in a fog before she opened the door. This time she new exactly where to go. Up the stairs to the second floor, take a left down to room 224, passed the other offices and weaving in and out of other professors and students.



As she approached her heart sped up. His door was open. She heard his voice coming out into the hallway accompanied with a voice of a young male. She stood next to the door and waited patiently, listening to John discuss the lecture topic from today with his student. Her fingers trembled. She continued to wait, rubbing her toes inside her pumps on the tile floor.



Several minutes later, the student came out of his office. She waited a few more moments, not wanting to be too obvious, and then she stepped into the doorway and rapped on his door. John looked up from his computer, delightfully surprised. He took in the view of her wearing a pink and red argyle sweater vest over a red button down, black slacks, a hint of stocking on the top of her foot inside her black heels. He was stunned, admiring how her layered top hugged against her tits that he had gotten so close to feeling in his hand. If only he had let down his guard.



John cleared his throat but his voice remained husky, “Maggie,” he greeted her.



“Professor, do you have a moment?” she asked and smiled, admiring his tan tweed suit, complete with a very professor-like yellow bow tie. Anxiously, she rubbed the bead of her tongue piercing between her lips. The silver of her tongue stud caught John’s eye. She kept reminding herself to be calm and professional.



He peered at her after the rims of his spectacles, “Come in, please. Have a seat.”



Maggie walked into his office; the room exuded his fine choices and education. She walked slowly, looking at his degrees and the over stuffed bookshelf.



She stopped at the front of his desk, resting one hand on top of the beautiful worn cedar, “Thank you sir, but I don’t need a seat. I just have something to give you,” her voice was soft, nervous for anyone outside the office to hear.



John raised a brow and leaned towards her, “You do? Let’s have it then.”



“Yes, sir,” Maggie placed the envelope on his desk and pushed it towards him.



Their fingers brushed and teased each other as he took the envelope. He leaned back in his chair, pressing all his fingers against the envelope. It felt soft and he knew something was in there besides a few sheets of paper, but he kept his cool.



“Thank you Maggie, I will get right on this after class.”



She nodded and leaned further across his desk. John could smell her familiar sweet soapy aroma.



She whispered, “It’s very important you are alone when it is opened.” She placed her hand on top of his, traced his fingers with hers and then turned on her heel and left his office without another word.



John looked at the time; he hadn’t opened the envelope and put it into the top drawer of his desk. He continued grading for the remainder of his office hour and another student came in with a few questions. His student continued with chatter passed his office time, he politely told him he needed to get to lunch and shuffled him out of his office. He closed and locked his door and sat back down behind his desk.



His stomach turned to anxious knots as he pulled the drawer open and laid the puffy envelope flat on his desk in front of him. “Professor Gottschalk” it said in beautiful flowing letters across the front. His mouth went dry as he opened it.



Green lace caught his eye, “Oh fuck,” he mumbled. He dipped his fingers inside and pulled out the flimsy green lace with genuine care. He laid the panties down on the desk, running his fingers over the lace.



He examined the details. Soft green sheer lace with an innocent flower pattern was dominant over the expanse of the garment. In the middle of the front ribbons came up from the crotch to the top in a criss cross pattern closed off with a pretty silk bow of the matching green. The hip band was made solely of lace and met together at the back forming a sweet classy thong. He picked up the panties in his hand, rubbing his fingers together over the sexy womanly lingerie. John opened the letter than had accompanied the panties. He quietly read aloud:



John, I need you to know how much I want you. When I go to sleep, I keep myself warm with thoughts of you and hope I will be lucky enough to see you in my dreams. When I find myself daydreaming, you are always there. When I think about you, my heart speeds up and my body aches. I want you, John. I need you. The attraction I have for you is stronger than anything I have ever felt. I know it’s terribly wrong and I won’t push you anymore. You have my word. Just know that there is a girl who is plagued by thoughts of you, who desires to give you everything you want, who wants to fill the void inside you. I know you have needs that you can’t deny. I know you used all your strength to not ravish me last week. But please, don’t do anything because of me. Do it because you want to, and when you’re ready, one day, you will be inside my panties. Until then, professor, know that you will be the object of my fantasies. Love, Maggie

As he finished reading his cock was aching, he was too occupied with the panties and letter to give it notice before. He unzipped his slacks and pulled his aching organ out of his fly.



“Oh Maggie, Maggie, what are you doing to me,” he said as he held the panties in his hand and began stroking himself. The lace was soft against his erection, carefully dragging his hand along his pole and his eyes fluttered closed. “I need you too, Maggie. I need your soft lips wrapped around my cock, sucking me inside your mouth. Oh yes, that would be so fucking good,” he mumbled, easing the tension in the shaft with his hand.



Inside his mind, Maggie was on her knees, worshiping his cock with her mouth, suckling and licking his erect flesh. She’d run her tongue over his balls and work her hand over his slick erection. “I need to know what you feel like, oh god. I need to be inside you… fuck…” He quickly grabbed a tissue and closed his eyes again, “You’re so pretty with a cock in your mouth, aren’t you, Maggie… Rubbing that tongue stud all over my cock,” he grumbled and groaned, “fuck,” his chest heaved as his cum emptied from his balls into the tissue. “A nice creamy load for you, Maggie,” he said quietly with his head back against his chair.



Days passed typically, and Maggie began to wonder if she had gone too far. She checked her e-mail regularly for any sign of John but always came up short. She had to remind herself he had priorities. He had children, and a wife. “I’m just being silly. This is just silly. I mean come on, this is stupid,” she had said to herself staring out the windows at work Saturday afternoon, willing John to come in.



Little did she know John had a terrible day. In the morning, his mother came to pick up the kids for a few hours. He thought this would be an opportune time for him and his wife to have some alone time. He was wrong. She was cleaning up after breakfast with his help. While he rinsed and she dried the dishes he looked over at her, “You know Tammy, we’re alone,” he said to his wife with a naughty twinkle in his eye.



“I know,” she replied, continuing to dry dishes.



John finished and turned off the water, he helped dry the last few plates and put them away. He set a skillet on the counter and came up behind his wife and kissed her neck.



She sighed as he began to softly grind against her ass, “Come on honey, and let me treat you to something special this morning. I want to make you cum for me, please, honey.”



“Not now, John, I, we, have things to do,” she resisted and nudged herself away.



He wrapped his arm around her, taking her breast into his hand, kneading carefully. “It can wait, I want to please you. I need to taste your pussy,” he whispered in her ear.



She almost gave in, letting her eyes close for a moment. Then she suddenly turned and pushed him away by his shoulders. “I said not now,” she growled.



“Come on. Why the hell not?” John demanded. “No one is home. This never fucking happens. All I want to do is let you lie down and relax and pleasure you. I don’t need anything, I just want to give to you.”



Tammy started scrubbing at a stain on the counter top, frustrated and annoyed, “You can’t just snap your fingers and have me at will. I’m your wife not some tramp off the street.”



John stared at her with his mouth open, “I never said you were ‘some tramp off the street,’ all I wanted was to have a good time with my wife. Fuck. You’re taking this too far.”



“Maybe I am,” she hissed, throwing away a wadded up paper towel into the trash. “Or maybe I just want to get some stuff done, like go to the grocery store without the kids begging me to buy chocolate and sugary pop.”



John closed his eyes and took a deep breath running his hand through his hair, “I’m sorry. I just thought… never mind. I’m sorry,” he said then left the kitchen.



The day went from bad to worse. The tension from the morning simmered all day, bubbling up around the edges. He left mid afternoon and went to his office at school to try to get some work done, but it was a pointless effort. He was too hurt from being turned down by his wife. His insides ached and turned. There was no way he could focus on work, so he came back home.



The kids had returned by then and Abby was practicing for her upcoming recital at the piano in the living room. He stood at the door watching silently as his wife was hard on their daughter. Every mistake she made was terrible, every blip and slipped finger seemed to be the worst thing in the world. It was too much, “She’s just a kid,” he thought, feeling anger nearly burst inside him. Once Tammy started her “Only quality counts and you should only be exceptional ” speech it was too much for him.



“Give her a break!” John thundered from the doorway. Both his wife and daughter gasped and turned around. “Abby, darling, it sounds great! Yeah there’s a few rough spots but you have a few days to work it out. It will be great, don’t let her get you down,” he said.



Then he turned his attention to his wife, “And you need to stop being so wicked. This is practice. That’s what you do; practice. Don’t make her hate it. Then, she won’t want to play anymore.”



Tammy stood quiet with her arms closed over her chest and Abby slipped off the piano bench, nodding to her father before leaving them alone. They had a quiet fight in the living room, not raising their voices so the kids wouldn’t hear. The subject went from piano, to work, and to all sorts of family problems. Eventually it all came against him. His wife was picking him apart right there in the living room.



“And you’re quite the model of perfection yourself, aren’t you John?” she said, glaring at him.



John clenched his fists together, finding some way to let his pent up anger escape without doing anything stupid, like breaking that lamp he hated that sat on an end-table. It was completely out of place. “I’m going to leave. I can’t be here. Not with you. Not tonight. I might come back to sleep or I might check into a hotel. But I don’t want to see you for a little while.”



Tammy just stared at him, mouth gaping. Once he left to go grab a few things, she realized he was serious. She hurried up after him into the bedroom, “You’re kidding right?” she asked watching him in the closet picking out a few articles of clothing.



“No, I’m not. I’m not leaving forever. But just leave me alone right now. Please,” he said as he stuffed a shirt and pair of jeans into a small duffel bag. He quickly got a pair of boxers out of a drawer then zipped up the bag.



“Why? What did I do?” she scoffed.



“You’re being yourself and I just don’t feel like taking it right now,” he said, slinging the bag over his shoulder. He felt taller and stronger in front of his wife than he had in a long time. “I don’t deserve to be torn apart and treated like dirt by you, or anyone. I need to get away for a little while. And if I don’t come back by ten o’clock, you’re going to tell the kids I’m spending the night at my brothers. Why? I really don’t care, you can figure that out.”



“No, no, you can’t!” Tammy gasped.



John turned and walked out the bedroom door, looking over his shoulder, he said, “Watch me.”



He quickly told his kids that he was going to the gym then meeting up with his brother. They begged to come but he said it was a boy’s night and that he needed some guy time. He promised them they could go with him next time.



It was still early in the evening when he left. He drove through the city. John went up and down busy roads for a few hours, trying to clear out his head. He passed by the office where Maggie worked. It may have been on purpose, but he wasn’t really sure. It was obviously closed at this hour on a Saturday night and he began to wonder if Maggie was home.



He tried to occupy his mind with other thoughts, but the gorgeous woman who said she could give him everything he desired kept popping into his head. John slammed his hands on the steering wheel in frustration. “I’m a thirty-eight year old man!” he screamed at himself, “A fucking man, and not some bitch to my wife.”



He stopped at a coffee shop, and stayed inside, sipping his caffeine and watching young adults chatter about their immensely difficult lives. At least it was a small distraction.



Around ten-thirty he left the coffee shop and drove to the nearest cheap motel. He checked in, put the room on a credit card, and got back in his car. He drove around to the back lot and parked his car and sat.



He closed his eyes, calming down for the first time, truly, all day. He left the car on for heating purposes only, and tried to figure out what he was doing. After a few short minutes, he put the car in reverse and left the parking lot.



He drove down the street, remembering clearly where Maggie lived. His heart began to race the closer he got, “Is this stupid? What if she’s not there? What if this had just been a string me a long kind of game that a young woman found amusing?”



He went through the apartments. He kept hearing Maggie’s voice in his head, directing him where to go. He passed by her parking spot and sighed with anxious relief when he saw her car parked. After searching the street for a spot, John got out, zipped up his coat, took a deep breath and headed for her apartment.



He hadn’t been this nervous since he went out on a date in his undergraduate years. His heart pounded in his chest, and its sound was audible to his ears. John arrived at her door, looking down at the familiar welcome mat, knowing he was in the right place.



John lifted his hand, took a stuttering breath and knocked on Maggie’s door.



Inside, Maggie jumped, startled from a knock on her door near midnight. She closed her book and pulled the blanket off her legs before going to the door.



He waited a few moments, rubbing his hands together to keep them warm. He looked up when he heard the deadbolts clicking. If his heart were to beat any faster, he’d go into cardiac arrest.



The door opened, and the beautiful creature standing inside took John back. She was everything he wanted, he was sure now. He was certain this was no longer going to be a fantasy; this was about to become real. It could be the worst mistake of his life, but he didn’t care anymore. He couldn’t live not knowing what could have happened.



He drank her in with his eyes. Suddenly the wind didn’t feel as cold against him. Maggie stood there, quiet, letting him look her over and take in everything she encompassed. Standing there in her foyer, wearing only a snug little white t-shirt, no bra and with the cold air coming in from the outside her nipples swelled quickly underneath, poking against the fabric, clearly visible. Her lower belly was on display above her sweet pink and white polka dot silk bikini panties.



She was everything he wanted, everything he had fantasized about since he was young. Standing there she looked like a teen rocker girl he would imagine before bed. But, she was real. She was Maggie.



Maggie moved to the side, stunned for a moment that he was here before she welcomed him inside. She felt confused, she wanted to ask questions, to find out what brought John to her door at nearly midnight. She pushed her glasses up on her nose and closed the door.



“John, are you alright?” she asked, watching him take off his coat and drape it over the back of her sofa.



He took a few steps to the stunned girl, seeing her tremble with excitement and a hint of fear. He held her face in his hands and brought her eyes to his, “I’m here, Maggie,” he said quietly, looking into her soul.



“Are you sure?” she asked equally quiet.



John leaned his face into hers, tilting his head just a bit to the left. “More sure than I have been about anything in a long, long time,” he said, bringing her mouth to his.



Maggie closed her eyes and shuddered a moan against his lips. She dropped her head back against the wall, letting his tongue glide over her lips and into her mouth, accepting him.



She raised her hands and placed them around his neck, bringing him closer. Their mouths opened and closed together, in perfect harmony. They tasted each other’s tongues and mouths. Maggie ran her tongue over his bottom lip, savoring every morsel of him. She felt him, his built up lust and desire spilling out into the way he kissed her. He was gentle and rough, tender and sweet, slow and fast, all mixed together.



John pressed harder against her, feeling her need. No words were needed. She sucked his tongue into her mouth, rolling her tongue around it, giving him a hint to what that little tongue stud could do. She then gave him her tongue in return. He slid his hands down from her cheeks, over her neck and shoulders, past her erect nipples and down her belly, around to her round silk covered ass. He squeezed her cheeks and lifted her up, Maggie responded by wrapping her limbs around him, climbing into his embrace.



Their lips never parted as he brought her through the living room to her bedroom. Their kissing grew even more intense as he carried her, the lust boiling over. He held her ass and rubbed against her. He bumped Maggie against the door. She giggled against his mouth and reached over, opening it for them.



John brought Maggie to her bed and laid her down and he straightened out his back, looking down at her. She stretched out across her bed smiling sweetly, inviting him. Her eyes twinkled and her lips shined with saliva from the hungry kiss just moments ago. John admired her laying there.



“What are you waiting for, handsome?” Maggie giggled, sitting up a bit on her elbows.



John leaned down and put his hands on her hips, pushing her little shirt up over her tits. Maggie lifted her arms and shook her brown locks as he pulled her shirt off. Her breasts were more beautiful than he imagined, full, round and creamy with hints of veins running through behind her flesh. Her nipples were perky and erect with brownish pink areola surrounded by the sweetest little bumps.



“You are everything I have ever wanted,” he said as he looked at her body and trailed his hand over her hipbone just above her panties.



Maggie blushed like a little girl and bit her lip. Her stomach trembled as he touched her.



John leaned down again and kissed her lips, licking her soft mouth. Maggie loved how his goatee scratched her face as he moved his lips across her cheek to her neck. His hands groped her, holding her tight as if he was worried she would change her mind and run away. She reached for the bottom of his sweater and pulled it up. John’s hands only left her for a moment so she could pull it off.



Maggie opened her legs so he could climb on top of her. He lifted his knees onto her bed and pressed his chest against hers. Her swollen nipples poked through his chest hair. They found each other’s mouths again and fought for control of the kiss, playfully fighting with each other’s tongues. Loud smacking sounds filled the room as they greedily kissed.



John played with the tongue stud in her mouth, flicking it with his tongue and playfully pulling on it. Maggie hurried with his belt and fly then lifted her feet and pushed his pants down his legs; John kicked them off to help her.



John held her tit with his left hand and felt it’s weight, squeezing and tugging on it just a bit. He steadied himself with his other arm, holding his hand around Maggie’s head. Her hands gripped his sides and hips, pulling him closer to her. Together they began grinding against each other through their underwear.



Maggie’s panties were gathering wetness with each passing second and John’s erection somehow had not poked out of the fly of his boxer briefs. Their mouths parted for a moment and they both opened their eyes, panting against each other’s mouths.



“John,” Maggie said with heavy breath, “May I worship you?”



“Worship me?” John asked, raising an eyebrow with a grin painted on his saliva stained lips.



Maggie nodded, “Yes sir, please,” she replied then wiggled out from under him.



He rolled over onto his side and let her slip away. She got up onto her feet and shimmied her panties down her hips. John watched eagerly as her bare pussy came into view. He hadn’t seen a shaved a woman except in porn. His cock was standing straight up, making a tent of his underwear and he wasn’t shy about it. He watched as she slowly pushed her panties down, a lingeringly slow strip tease just for him. Finally, her lips came into view, shiny with juices.



“Damn,” John mumbled, “Maggie, you are utterly amazing.”



“Thank you sir,” she smiled sweetly as she stepped out of her panties and dropped them to the floor.



Maggie reached for his hand and he willingly gave it. She pulled him off the bed to his feet in front of her and leaned up and dropped a peck on his lips before dropping down to her knees in front of him.



“John,” she said as she pulled his boxer briefs down and his cock sprang out at her. Her thoughts were stopped for a moment as she ogled his length. He was on the larger side over average, thick and veiny. Throbbing and fully erect. Her mouth was near his cock and he could feel her breath on it, “I am going to worship you and give you the most amazing head you have ever had.”



“That sounds like quite a statement,” he teased and reached down touched his erection, just to make sure he was as hard as he thought he was. He couldn’t remember a time he was this erect.



Maggie’s eyes were up to his and she stuck out her tongue dragged it in a slow circle around his bulbous head. “I don’t lie, professor.”



From that small sensation John’s toes curled. He kept his eyes down on her and moved his hand to her hair, brushing a few strands off her face.



Maggie began to work, holding his cock around the base of his shaft and lapping up along his length, coating his flesh in a layer of saliva. She felt the ridges of his veins against her tongue as she licked and took the time to flutter her tongue against his frelenum. John stuttered out a moan.



Maggie grinned and spit onto his shaft. Using her spit as lube she began gently pulling him, slowly. Her small hand just barely closed around his girth. Her mouth disappeared under him and her back arched forward as she kissed his sac through his pubic hair. He admired her ass from this angle; it was perfect.



His eyes fluttered closed and he groaned as she sucked his balls one at a time into her mouth. He rarely got head and it never included attention to his balls. He wrapped his fingers in her hair and pulled her in closer between his thighs. Maggie complied and slapped her tongue against his taut flesh, reaching back to his taint. She gently tugged on his ball skin with her teeth, and then kissed the area that she pulled on. The grip she had on his cock tightening now and her wrist turning just slightly as she stroked him.



“Oh god, Maggie, that’s good,” he mumbled.



Maggie sucked on his balls for a moment longer then pulled her mouth away, “That’s not all I can do.”



John just nodded, he had no reply to that and wouldn’t dare tease her about her skills.



“You ready?” she grinned, her hand pulling his cock hard and fast now.



“For what?” he wheezed.



Maggie dropped her hand and her mouth opened. Her lips spread over the head of his erection, he felt the warmth of her mouth as it surrounded him. John tried to moan but nothing came out from his lips.



She pushed her mouth further down his shaft and he praised how pretty she looked with her mouth wrapped around his member. Her lips stretched and cheeks were sunken in. He felt his cockhead pressing against the entrance to her throat.



Maggie reared her mouth back and spit on his shaft. Her spit dangled from her mouth to his aching flesh as she spoke “Oh my goodness, I can’t get it in my throat,” she said in a playful tone. “It’s just so big.”



John twirled his fingers in her brown locks, “It’s okay, don’t worry about…” before he could finish his sentence, Maggie’s mouth had swallowed his cock and down into her tight soft throat. She didn’t stop till her nose was pressed hard against his pelvis. “Fuck!” he groaned so loud it could have shook the walls of her bedroom.

He reached over and steadied himself on her dresser, his legs could give out at any moment.



Maggie fed on him, slurping and gagging, turning her head side to side, never letting his erection leave her throat. John’s consistent groans just encouraged her, causing her to work harder. All she wanted was to service her lover. Her lips slid up and down his cock as she looked up at him.



Her tongue wiggled inside her mouth, pushing her tongue bead against his organ, massaging the base of his shaft while grinding his cock into her throat. She pushed her tongue out of her mouth with his shaft completely hidden behind her lips and pulled his balls up with her hand to lick them.



John just stared, when his eyes were able to stay open, “Holy fuck, I thought that only happened in porn,” he moaned. His chest was heaving with heavy breath, he didn’t want to cum yet but he wasn’t sure how long he could hold off.



Maggie started giggling and had to pull back to keep from choking. His cock fell out of her mouth with a pop and he gasped. She spit lewdly several times onto his flesh and smeared it along his shaft. Her other hand found her warmth between her thighs and she parted her pussy lips and ran her fingers over her wet folds.



“I want to taste your cum,” she begged. “Please sir, empty your load into my needy mouth.”



John nodded and spoke in a husky tone, “You’ll get it slut. I’m going to fuck that pretty face of yours.”



Maggie grinned a Cheshire grin, her legs twitching as she rubbed her clit, “Oh goody!”



John took his grip of her hair and angled her head back slightly. Her mouth dropped open and he filled the void with his thick meat. Maggie kept her throat loose as he pushed inside. Quickly, he began thrusting into her mouth, drilling his cock into her throat. He felt strong and powerful, and Maggie willingly obeyed.



Dirty sounds of gagging filled the room with John’s groans. He pushed deep inside her and dug his shaft into her throat as far as he could. Maggie had begun digging out her cunt but he didn’t notice. Her mouth was the only thing on his mind and she gave it to him freely.



Her tongue slithered around his shaft when he buried himself inside her and her cheeks sank in as he pulled away. Drool spilled out of her lips and ran down her chin to her tits. He could feel his cock throbbing and the warmth in his loins about to explode. He pulled her face to his pelvis as his body started shaking.



“Oh fuck, fuck,” he roared as his seed shot into her throat.



Maggie gulped it down without hesitation and John pulled back allowing the last rope to drop on her tongue. His musky tasting cum coated her mouth and throat and he finally pulled away with a relieved gasp.



She wasn’t ready for him to pull away yet. Maggie suckled his vulnerable flesh, gently taking his cock back into her mouth. She swirled her cum splattered tongue against his member. The sensations were overwhelming and John’s entire being twitched.



Maggie sat up, one hand still working her pussy, with the other she wiped her lips after swallowing, “Very delicious, professor, slightly salty and musky, just how I like it.”



John shook his head and wiped the sweat off his brow, “You’re right, I never had a blow-job like that, ever.”



Maggie smiled, “You’re very welcome.” With his help she got back to her feet.



“I’m going to need a minute, I hope that’s okay,” John said as he sat down on the edge of the bed.



“Of course,” Maggie kissed his forehead, “Would you like a glass of water?”



“You are the perfect woman,” he replied.



Maggie nodded, “I do my best,” and scurried off to the kitchen.



She returned promptly with a glass of ice water and handed it to him. She sat down on the bed next to him and gently trailed her nails along his shoulder. He gulped down the water then looked over at her.



“Tell me something, John,” Maggie bit her lip as she teased his earlobe with her fingertip. “Tell me something else you’ve never done sexually.”



John finished the water then leaned over her to place the empty cup on the nightstand, “Well, one thing comes to mind.”



Maggie nodded for him to continue then began kissing along his jaw line.



“I’ve never had anal sex.”



She lifted her head back up and had a concerned look on her face, “You’ve never fucked a girl’s ass?”



John shook his head, “Always wanted to, but the Mrs. would never let me. I stopped asking ages ago.”



Maggie kissed his lips, “I’m your slut John, and you can do anything you want with me.”



He nibbled her bottom lip, “That you are,” he said then pushed her down onto the pillows.



Maggie’s legs opened for him as he maneuvered himself to his knees and climbed on top of her. He got his first view of her available pussy and the shiny green curved barbell that adorned her clit hood. He flicked it playfully with his finger, “I’ve never seen this before.”



Maggie squirmed as the flick of the jewelry teased the hidden area of her clitoris, “Do you like it?”



“I do, it’s very pretty,” he continued to play with it, dragging his fingers over it and tugging just slightly. “Did it hurt?”



“Surprisingly not one bit,” Maggie replied as she stacked the pillows so she could rest with a better view of John. “The worst part was taking off my pants for a total stranger. But he was professional, and I didn’t even realize he had done it until he said he was finished.”



John chuckled as his hand caressed the beautiful pussy of his lover. Her lips folded in on themselves flawlessly. Her cunt was neatly tucked away behind her bare folds.



Her warmth radiated onto his palm, “So the rewards definitely outweigh the risk, then?”



“Oh absolutely, very much worth the fifty dollars and bit of humiliation it took to get it done.”



His has stroked her soft bare skin for just a moment longer before he leaned down and licked up the slit of her pussy. Her scent immediately over powered him and he was hooked. She tasted better than she smelled. Her folds were soft and the flesh behind them was like velvet. Her fluids coated his tongue as he tasted her. Maggie let out a soft satisfied moan and pinched her nipple.



His tongue poked into her hole and more fluids seeped out into his mouth. She tasted like heaven. He probed his tongue into her cunt. John groaned into her body then flattened his tongue as he lapped up to her clit. His tongue flicked against the barbell and Maggie squirmed. He drew circles over her clitoris and enjoyed feeling the jewelry move in his mouth.



Maggie’s toes curled and her moans begged for him not to stop. She cupped and groped her breasts, tugging on her nipples as he consumed her.



He held her thighs open. Her juices leaked over her ass and down onto the sheets. He sucked her clit into his mouth and gently bit on it. Maggie’s hips bucked against his face and his tongue slid back down to her cunt. He poked his tongue inside her, teasing her, and then took long careful laps from her hole and up to her clit over and over until his lover began panting.



“Please sir, please put your fingers inside me,” she moaned.



John kissed her hard clitoris and moved his hand to her cunt. He traced the outline of her entrance with his fingers, feeling her silken juices. John pushed his pointer finger inside her.



Her walls were soft; they felt like satin with sponginess along the top. He gently pushed his finger in and out. She was tight and he pushed his second finger inside. Her body welcomed it and her hips pushed into his fingers. He dragged his fingers along her smooth walls, fucking her tenderly.



He looked up over her body as his tongue wiggled on her clitoris. Her eyes fluttered between open and closed and her mouth hung open as she moaned. Her stomach sunk in with every deep breath showing off her hipbones and the outline of her ribs as he pleasured her.



He lifted his mouth off her pussy to get a better view. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Maggie was comfortable and in touch with her needs.



Her juices leaked over his hand as he dug inside her. Driving his two fingers in and out as Maggie fucked his fingers. Her hips rolled and ground onto his hand.



“Oh my goodness, that’s so good,” she panted.



John pushed her hand off her tit and he bit her breast. His teeth sank into her flesh as he drove his fingers into her body. He licked and kissed where he bit her and then drew his tongue over to her nipple. Her body was hot against him and her cunt was boiling around his fingers.



His cock had come back to life, standing at attention and begging to be touched.



Her body trembled violently and her heels dug into the sheets making them ripple across the bed. John lifted his mouth from her breast to watch the beauty of her face as she neared her orgasm.



“Oh my goodness, oh fuck” she whimpered. Her chest and cheeks flushed red as the pleasure over powered her.



“That’s a good girl,” John said, coaxing the orgasm out of her as she rode his fingers. He curled them up inside her massaging her g spot, “Cum for me, cum for me, my slut.”



Maggie spoke in broken words, only “fuck, oh god,” and “John” were audible between her purrs and moans.



Her cunt gripped his fingers, squeezing tight and releasing rhythmically, until forcing them out. Maggie had gone silent and her orgasm squirted violently put of her. Soaking John’s body and the sheets.



John was stunned.



Maggie’s eyes slowly opened as her breathing calmed, “oh wow,” she said softly.



“That’s… Wow, I’ve never seen that before either. You are just full of surprises aren’t you?”



Maggie rubbed her cheeks into the pillows as her body shook with post orgasmic quakes, “Hope you don’t mind.”



“Are you kidding me!” he laughed. “That was amazing!”



Maggie giggled as John settled down on the pillows next to her, “Thank you sir. I want to amaze you.”



He kissed her lips gently, “Please don’t stop.”



She pecked his lips several times, tasting herself on his mouth as she climbed on top of him, “I won’t, I promise.”



Her hand found his erection once again and she sat up on his hips, hovering over him. She placed her knees on either side of him and her pussy less than inch from his cock.



“John, I’ve wanted you since the moment I saw you,” she said as she teased his cock against the folds of her dripping pussy.



“I know, I have too,” he said, looking at the stunning creature on his lap. “I haven’t wanted anything this bad”



Maggie smiled sweetly and lifted her body, settling his cock right at the entrance to her cunt, “Fifteen years John, fifteen years since you have been inside another woman, are you glad it’s me?”



“Oh god yes, Maggie. You are well worth the wait,” he held her hips as she lowered down onto his shaft.



Her heat engulfed him. Her body slid down his pole and settled on him, wrapped around his cock.



“Oh god, your cunt is so soft and wet and hot,” he groaned, looking up at Maggie.



Her heat spread to him and filled his body with warmth. The walls of Maggie’s cunt stretched to fit his girth inside. Maggie rocked just slightly on his lap, holding his organ deep inside her. Her mouth dropped open in pleasure as their eyes locked.



They were connected, completely, finally.



Maggie lifted her hands behind her head as she began bouncing on his erection. Showing off her body as her hips danced in his lap. A private show for John’s eyes as she rode him.



He lifted his hips and met her thrusts, grinding himself into her. His cock pushed against her cervix as her body came down on him. She let out a yelp of pleasure as she felt his member in her stomach.



“Holy fuck, you fit so good inside me,” she moaned, dropping her head back. Her breasts bounced in circles on her chest and her hair danced around her shoulders. Her hips rolled down into him, digging his organ inside her.



“I could fuck you forever,” he moaned back, in awe of her body bouncing and rocking on his.



“Please do!” Maggie squealed.



John groped her tits, squeezing them together roughly, and pulling her nipples between his fingers. His large hands filled with soft breast flesh, fingertips sinking in.



“Do you like my tits?” Maggie asked, biting her lip.



“I love them,” he grunted as she impaled her body on his erection.



Maggie dropped down and catching herself on her hands next to his head. She kissed his lips and moaned into his mouth. John grabbed her hips, digging his fingers into her skin, pulling her into him. Their bodies worked together in pleasurable unison.



Maggie’s walls squeezed John’s cock as she pulled up and loosened as she came down. She milked him with her cunt.



“I love how you feel inside me. You’re so thick, my cunt has to stretch for you,” she panted against his mouth.



“I can feel your fluids leaking on my balls. You’re such a hot slut,” he grunted then covered her mouth with his.



Their bodies rocked together firmly, filling each other’s needs. John’s organ slid into her and he pressed his hips up to fill her completely as she came down on him. Their tongues wrestled as they moaned back and forth into each other’s mouths. John relished the sensation of her hard nipples rubbing along his chest.



A thin layer of sweat coated both of their bodies. The room smelled of sex and the strong, delicious aroma of Maggie’s cunt.



John could feel himself getting close again and wasn’t ready for this delight to end just yet. He pulled Maggie’s hips down onto him. Her cunt continued to pulse around his throbbing erection.



“What’s wrong?” Maggie asked, nuzzling her nose against his.



“Nothing, nothing at all. I just don’t want to cum yet,” John grinned.



Maggie rolled her hips just slightly as she caught her breath.



“I still want your ass,” he said.



“So take it!” Maggie beamed.



With those words John lifted Maggie off him and put her on the bed. He slid off then pulled her off the edge by her ankles causing her to squeal.



“There’s lube in the nightstand,” Maggie said as she positioned herself on her hands, bent over the side of the bed.



John reached over and rummaged through the drawer, quickly finding warming lubricant. He squeezed a couple drops onto his finger and Maggie reached behind her and pulled her ass cheeks open.



Her bud was tiny and welcoming. John smeared lube onto it, tenderly massaging the entrance to her ass.



Maggie looked over her shoulder as she giggled and squirmed, “Sorry, it tickles.”



John swatted her ass with his other hand, “Stay still slut,” he said firmly.



“Owwie!” she squealed, “Yes sir.”



“Do you like that?” he asked and spanked her again, harder this time.



Maggie’s body writhed and she wiggled her ass, “Oh yes sir, very much.”



He worked his finger into her tight asshole and lubed up his cock, “I should have known, sluts like you always like to be spanked.”



“I love it sir, it feels so good when you spank me,” Maggie moaned and pushed back against his finger.



John pulled out his finger and positioned his member at her asshole, “I make you feel good other ways don’t I?” he said then pushed his cock into her tight hole.



He pushed past her rim and her anus sucked his cock inside. He sank into her and Maggie let out a deep guttural moan as her back arched.



“Fuck yes, you do, professor. You make me feel wonderful,” she purred.



Her hands dropped from her ass and she held her torso up on the bed as she backed up into his pelvis.



John stood still for several moments, feeling Maggie’s tight ass suck on his erection as she rocked back and forth on it. He held her hips idly, breaking only to spank her, which made her anal walls squeeze tighter around him as she shimmered with pleasure.



“Fuck my ass professor, fuck my dirty little hole,” Maggie begged as she slammed her body back into him.



“Filthy little girl,” he groaned and pushed her chest into the bed and began drilling into his slut.



Maggie winced from the intense pressure of his weight slamming into her anus and gripped the sheets. His hand spanked her ass and the other reached under her and pawed at her nearest tit.



“Fuck yes, that’s what your slut wants, fuck my ass just like that,” Maggie cried out.



John slapped her ass repeatedly, drilling into her hot, smooth anus. He pinned Maggie to the bed with his weight. His balls slapped against her pussy with every thrust. He groaned and bit down on her shoulder. Maggie screamed out in gratification as his teeth dug into her flesh.



Pure animalistic lust had over taken them both.



Maggie slipped her had underneath her and found her clit. She rubbed it wildly, making her legs quake as he used her ass for his pleasure.



He licked her shoulder where a trickle of blood had leaked. Maggie was completely his now. He knew it. He bit down and sucked hard, leaving another mark on her shoulder.



Maggie’s anus milked his cock as she panted and moaned. John’s groans turned to roars as he pounded into her ass even harder.



John fucked his slut into the mattress, using her body, thrusting everything he had into her ass. Maggie screamed and cried out in satisfaction as he tore her anus open. He squeezed and spanked her ass so hard with his hand; he left bruises on her flesh.



Maggie whimpered, “Cum with me, please sir, I beg you.”



John wanted to say something to tease her, but he knew he was too close, he just grunted, “Yes, Maggie.”



He felt his balls tighten and the rush of intense pleasure flood through his cock and shoot deep inside her anus. He growled like a beast as he emptied what felt like a huge load inside his slut.



Just as he came he could feel Maggie under him, her body writhing helplessly. Her ass clenched tight, pulsing on his sensitive cock. Her breath was fast and her heart pounded as she gushed down her thighs.



He collapsed down on her, barley getting his knees on the bed so he wouldn’t slip off. His erection relaxed, but stayed snug in her ass as they lay together. Maggie slid her hand over and found his and squeezed it. He rested his hot cheek on hers. Both of them were covered in sweat, Maggie’s hair was stuck to most of her face.



Blissful moments passed before John slipped out of her ass and off her. He moved up to the pillows and laid back. Maggie followed him and snuggled up into his nook.



There weren’t any words needed, but John said them anyway, “Thank you Maggie, that was amazing.”



Maggie nuzzled into him and wrapped her arm over his chest, “No need to thank me,” she purred with her eyes closed.



His cum leaked out of her ass and down onto the sheets.



“Maggie…” John whispered.



“Yes?” she asked raising her face to look at him.



“I don’t want this to be a one time thing, you know that right? I don’t want to sound clingy, but that was the best sex I ever had.”



Maggie grinned and dropped a kiss on his mouth, “I know, it was, and I don’t want it to be either.”



John kissed her flushed cheeks and brushed the sticky hair out of her face, “I’m going to get in trouble with you around.”



The smile didn’t leave her lips and she ran her fingers over his nipple, “I can keep a secret, if you can.”



John pulled her face closer to his kissed her hard, with deep rooted passion, before slowly pulling away. “I absolutely can.”



Maggie nuzzled his cheek and whispered, “What do we do now?”



“We go to sleep.”



She laughed and pulled her face away to look at his eyes, “No, I mean, after tonight.”



John traced her cheekbone, getting lost in her eyes, “I go home tomorrow. Then we see each other when we can.”



Maggie opened her mouth to say something and John placed a finger gently over her lips. The realization of their relationship came over them and he could see it on her face.



“Maggie,” he said gently, “I’m going to see you any time I can. This is a new thing to me, so we are going to have to work out some kinks, but we will do whatever we can, okay?”

A young Finnish woman fantasizes about being dominated, but her chance met partner forces the issue and doesn’t know where to stop. After their first date the man compels her to let him in to her apartment where he first teases her but soon turns his attentions to torture.


***Sometimes, when he really pounded me, my hands would instinctively shoot up to protect myself. He would grab my wrists in one big hand, and bend them forcefully behind me until I stopped struggling. He was evil and skilled and he felt so good. I’d had this yearning building in me the whole night and I was desperate for release.



“Vanya, please let me come. I need to come.”



He banged me especially hard and made me wail in pain. He clamped his hand on my mouth and growled in my ear, “My little girl wants more? не бойся, I’m nowhere near finished yet.” He adjusted his position so I could reach my clit. “Go on baby, come for me.”



He’d kept me aroused for hours and within one minute of needy strokes I cried out in pleasure, my pussy spasming. He quickened his pace and I was moaning and wailing as my climax ebbed. He rammed into me making an indescribable animalistic noise, and shot his load up my thoroughly used pussy. I loved the primal feeling of being marked as his property by having his seed in me. Even though I wouldn’t get pregnant, the atavistic meaning of mating turned me on. I cherished the sensation of being filled with something that came from inside him, from his deepest urges.



He panted on top of me lowering his head on the mattress beside my ear as I stroked his sides with my fingers. It was an awkward moment: he having to strip the role of beast and me the role of prey and us to meet each other, naked, spent and trembling, as lovers on the bed we made love in. He recovered some and rose from atop me, giving my face a few gentle kisses. He stroked my forehead and neck muttering in his language and I relaxed blissfully into his touches.



His cum was still dripping from me with my own juices, when he told me to lay still and got up. He returned soon with a glass of water and a dishwashing brush. He told me to drink and settled me back on the bed.



“I need to clean you up a bit, baby,” he said and parted my swollen pussy.



It prickled but didn’t hurt the first times he put the brush in me. Soon he was rapidly chafing my insides raw like he was sanding a block of wood. Pink pussy juice appeared on the bristles. First I yelped in exitement. Then I begged. Finally I screamed. I hadn’t gotten my sweet Vanya back after all and I tried to close my thighs to shut him out. He stopped with the brush and leaned over me, looking right into my eyes.



“Spread them. Now. And this time you’ll spread them wider and thank me, when I fill your cunt.” This was the beast, the man from the whisper in the night club. There was no mercy to be had with him. I reluctantly spread my legs, knowing it would be hard not to squeeze them shut again as the pain started. He got me to really splay them before he was satisfied. “Mind your manners now.” I tried to form the words thank and you from my moans and screams, but he ravaged me with such force I soon lost the ability to think. He gagged me, for he did not want alarmed neighbours calling the police. A few times he took the gag out, not wanting to miss out on all my shrieks. The brush went in and out, never slow, always fast to induce the maximum pain. My legs were strained and muscles hurting, but with him in this mood I dared not move from the position he had ordered me in. He made sure he treated every spot, all the while murmuring what a good girl I was and how he knew I was loving every second of it.



When he was satisfied I had no area of intact membrane inside me, he laid beside me leaving the brush jutting out of my cunt. He stroked my cheeks.



“Rest your legs for a while.” He took the gag from my mouth, stroked my lips with his finger and kissed me. “I’ll tie your legs up next ’cause I will need you to stay still.” He kissed me on the forehead and in a twistedly loving manner put the gag back. I had grasped at his first kind words, thinking that I had now endured what he wanted me to, and realized what he’d said only after I was gagged again. I was in so much pain inside, bleeding and burning. Please Vanya, no more.



He was gentle again as he tied my ankles to the headboard with belts. He talked soothingly while working, changing to Russian and back. I listened really carefully to hear that душенька, baby. Somehow it would mean that what ever he planned next, I’d make it through. My legs were splayed wide again. At least I wouldn’t have to support their weight myself. Though I could relax my muscles and dangle from the ropes, I knew this position would soon become uncomfortable and painful. He was ready with the knots and took a moment to pet my head. He smiled and shook his head, “You’re so brave,” but he didn’t call me душенька.



He sat on the bed in front of my vulnerable crotch. I tried to see what he was doing, but couldn’t see below the horizon of my belly. “Babies come out of there,” he said in a pondering tone and brushed my labia lightly. “Yeah, there are hormones that prepare the pussy before giving birth, but mostly it is all about the ability of your pussy to stretch.” I heard a squirt and he was rubbing his hands together. I was shouting to my gag, begging him to stop before he even pulled the brush out of my throbbing poor pussy. He put his fist on my opening. “You were really tight on my cock,” he continued casually, “so this might hurt.”



He was a stocky man with big strong fists. I felt his hand slide in. He started with fingers. He dipped them in, getting his hand wet with pussy juice, semen and slowly seeping blood. There was the squirt again. Perhaps he pities me and found some lubricant. His hand started going in, balled into a fist. The chafing against the bloody walls of my pussy burned and I squirmed in my restraints. The burning got worse – a lot worse – worse than it should have. He noticed my writhing. “But I thought you liked lemon juice – you had it in your fridge.”



Vanya made a violent thrust with his fist eliciting more gagged screams from me. He kept pushing deeper. As I was tied up, I couldn’t even angle my pelvis into a better position to ease the way of the invading fist. “Open up, let me in.” If I managed to lift myself up a bit to escape him, there his fist would wait when I’d loose my strength. I’d slump down on it with all my weight and aid his raping ball of pain further inside. Vanya had decided from the start that I wanted to be his. It was a guess that made this not exactly a rape, but it wasn’t sex either. I was too scared and hurt for it to be sex. I didn’t want him to tear me apart. This savagery was beyond what I could handle.



The flesh of my pussy walls got crushed between my pelvic bone and his knuckles as he pushed. These were the same fingers that earlier caressed me into flowing wetness. I wanted to beg, but I couldn’t speak. I may have consented to having sex, but this pain was too much. I wanted it to end. I couldn’t think. I feared I’d go insane. All I could do was to scream into my gag and desperately try to escape his fierce punches. He hadn’t gotten past my pelvis by gradually pushing, so he’d moved on to pounding his way deeper. I struggled but all I got was more pain inside my cunt. Every once in a while he’d pull out, coat his fist again in lemon juice and push back in. Juice rubbed in the brushed sores and the balled hand stretched bruises from his earlier thrusts.



My thrashing angered him. “Hey!” He pinched my clit cruelly and my back arched in pain. “Stop your fidgeting. Don’t make me shove my other fist up your ass.” Please stop, take the gag out, please. I tried to make him understand with my eyes that I couldn’t take it anymore, but Vanya was unswayable.



His merciless efforts had forced my pussy to give way. He’d punched his fist a few centimetres further to lodge the widest part of it in my pelvic opening. Behind it he would find a deeper well, ending in my cervix.



“It’s gonna hurt real bad now. Take it. Be a good girl for me.” He gathered his strength for one last punch. I shrieked, sweating. He forced his way through and I, with my restraints and splayed sex, had no chance to stop him. His fist plopped through. “God, I love to stretch your tiny cunt.” I sobbed in pain and shock with his arm spearing me.



He tried to open his fist inside me but I was so tight he couldn’t move his fingers much. My pussy strangled his wrist slowing the flow of blood into his hand. He wrenched his thumb free and sunk it into my strained flesh. I had no strength to scream anymore. I mewed loudly when he moved in me. Gradually the pain numbed my mind and I started going limp. He smacked my face. “Stay with me!” New pain singled out from the sea of hurt. He was putting pressure on my cervix. “I’d love to force my fist into your womb to see if you’d pass out from the pain.” He was pushing his thumb in the closed opening.



I moaned, begging, pleading with my eyes. I had a contraceptive coil and having it inserted had been agony. That was done by forcing a little tube, no wider than a straw, into my uterus – not with a fist and a thick finger in an already bruised and battered cunt. The tissue was yielding and there were no muscles to defend the passage to my womb. I screamed despite my exhaustion. He applied pressure until his thumb got through. It had not the length to start torturing my innermost cavity but the pain of the forced penetration alone was terrible. He tried to push more of his forearm in, but his fist would go no further. Vanya wriggled his finger in the narrow passage to stretch it. He fucked his finger back and forth, transferring inside as much of the lemony cunt juice as possible to burn me. He ended his violation of me by tugging slightly the strings of the coil, making the sharp plastic object chafe inside me. The stomach convulsions nearly made me throw up. “Good girl,” he murmured, prizing the expressions on my tear-stained face.



Retracting his hand, he paused at my pelvic opening playing with his fist. His arm had had time to stretch the passage and his fist went through more easily. My pain hadn’t eased though as the tissue around the opening was ravaged. He fucked me with his fist until I went limp and felt nothing anymore.


***”Turn around now,” he prompted.



“Vanya stop, not that, really I can’t–”



“Listen, I tried to do this last night but it was dark and you were out. I know it hurts, but I have to check there’s no muscle damage or need for stitches. I… I don’t want any real harm to come to you. It’s difficult to hold back when I’m… inside of you.”



“But Vanya it hurts!”



“Would it be different if I told you to do it, if I ordered you to stay still and let me in?”



I turned around and tried to think about the earnestness in his voice. He’d said it was all right, that he wouldn’t fuck me. As his finger went in I doubled over in pain. He took his time probing my ass. I don’t think it was as innocent or as detached from our earlier roles as he tried to convince himself and me. He’d linger to massage a spot in my rectum and go on despite my convulsions and pleas. He spread my hole with his fingers again and again, insisting it was to check if it would shrink back again as it should. A time or two I thought I heard a satisfied grunt as I cried out in pain. Neither was I as unmoved by his treatment as I’d like to think. I kept moaning and my head filled up from the endless well of my shameful nasty dreams.



After he finished my thorough anal examination he turned me around again, hands on my hips. There came blood with his fingers from both my holes but not enough for it to be serious. He started to rinse my pussy again, his face leaning very close. I felt his breath on me. The water stream lowered and lowered as his face touched my mound and he nuzzled it sighing, rubbing his face on me. He put the shower head on the floor and used his free hands to part my lips. I was hurting but the more excited I got the less I took notice of the aching and burning. “Oh jesus,” I moaned when his tongue rested itself on my clit. I was afraid of the pain I’d be in with orgasmic convulsions but it was more important right then to have him touch me.



He ran his tongue up and down my slit. He parted my lips with his hands and licked teasing circles around my clit without actually touching it. I pleaded for him not to tease me.



“What do you want baby?”



“Please don’t stop. Let me cum.”



He let out an aroused growl and sucked my clit between his lips squeezing gently. I moaned in pleasure as he rolled his tongue over my clit sideways in a rhythmic motion. He alternated between fast and slow, gentle and fierce, pressing harder and flicking lightly. I leaned my buttocks on the sink and focused all my thoughts on what his mouth was doing.



He hummed while pressing his face against me. The vibrations lifted me so close to an orgasm I stood rigid, holding my breath, waiting for the final surge to send a raging whirlwind of sparks through me. Keeping pressure on my clit with his finger he said quickly, “I should put another pill in you. Want me to do it now?”



I moaned something resembling, “Yeah.” I was too aroused to think. He fumbled the pill from a little cup on the sink, put his finger on my pussy and his lips back on my clit. I felt his finger start sliding in, hurting me. His touch had made me wet again. His tongue returned on me and he hummed against my mound. The pain radiated from his inwards pushing finger and I shouted out a howl of fulfilment as I came. My juices bathed his hand. In the throws of my climax I felt a finger on my anus. Vanya carefully deposited a painkiller in there too. It hurt badly, but it had been the pain, pain he’d given me, that made me cum. His finger slowly slid out of me. I shuddered and he stood up just in time to support me as I sagged against his chest, exhausted.



He walked me to the bed. Sitting down I braced myself for the pain. I thought, that during our time in the bathroom, I’d have had time to adjust to it, but it was as fresh as ever. I wailed until I was on my back, my weight off my pussy and ass. I lay there recovering from my orgasm wondering what Vanya was doing.



“Close your eyes,” I heard him say, voice suddenly stern. He didn’t sound like he had a surprise for me – a surprise I’d like that is. Apparently he’d decided that if I was ready to come, I’d be ready to be used again.



“Vanya I really hurt,” my voice sounded panicked, scared. “Please. I haven’t even started to heal yet. You promised you wouldn’t, please don’t hurt me.”



“I said close your eyes душенька. I won’t ask nicely again.” I closed my eyes and heard him walking to me.



He blindfolded me. A hand slid on my thigh “Spread ‘em.” I started crying and begging him. I curled myself as much in to a ball as I could with my bruised insides. Vanya wasn’t happy. He gagged me and dragged me to the center of the bed, rolled me on my back and yanked my thighs apart. “I take you when ever I feel like it,” he growled menacingly in Russian. “Understand?” He let my legs fall on either side of him and spread them further by uncaringly pulling them wider. He had a plastic syringe which he used to fill first my cunt and them my rectum with the anesthetic gel. Going in, the unyielding plastic tool scratched the membranes that were raw to begin with. I cringed but only a little whine got through my gag.



He sat between my legs looking at my exposed crotch and getting more and more aroused. He started fucking my ass with a finger, rougher than earlier in the bathroom. “You’re ass is slippery baby, you’re making me so hard I’ll soon have to take you again – hurt or not. I think I’d choose your butt. There is something so deprived in pumping you up the rectum, enjoying your sobs and screams.” He smacked my pussy hard to punish me for trying to get away from his finger. He pushed in and out, adding another finger and relishing my jerks of pain. “But, if I was to fuck your cunt, I could fill your arse up with a pretty plug and make you feel all nice and full.” I felt cool heavy silicone resting against my thigh. What the hell, did he go shopping for that too?



This time Vanya had gagged me with duct tape instead of a rag. I could make no sound but a stifled nasal whine. Nonetheless I tried to scream for him to stop.



“Relax душенька. It won’t hurt too bad. I want the gel to stay in, don’t I. I wouldn’t want you to be in pain.” He tried to fake a loving tone, but couldn’t hide the sadistic lust beneath. I was afraid to be gagged like this. Unlike a rag, I couldn’t breathe through duct tape. What if I start to cry and snivel? If my nose fills up with snot will I suffocate?



I felt something on my anus pressing to enter. To make sure I’d keep still, Vanya put weight on his palm resting between my naval and my mound. He pinned my hips down pressing on my gut, exactly where the pain was. He pushed the plug through my sphincter giving me no chance to adjust. It hurt, but it hadn’t been excruciating. His hand held me still and the invading plug continued to burrow deeper. It stretched the cuts he’d just opened up again in the bathroom. I thrashed and tried to escape. I wasn’t tied down, but with him it didn’t matter. I would never escape from beneath his large frame.



The plug had bulges on it from smaller to bigger and my hole got stretched in increasingly excruciating pain for four more times. When Vanya got to the third and fourth ball he stopped to pull them back out and repeated my painful stretch, relishing in my pain. The last was the worst: the big bump meant to keep the plug in me, no matter how I’d spasm or push. I couldn’t scream, but I could cry and I did. This kind of pain would have been maddening at any time, but after my anus tortured bloody not twelve hours past, the agony was unthinkable. Vanya please, you promised you wouldn’t break me. He pushed in slowly, making me feel it. My little hole struggled to give way. I had no way of knowing how much more was yet to come, how much wider he’d force me.



Vanya stopped, the widest part of the last ball spreading my opening obscenely. “You want me to take it out baby?” I nodded my head and kept nodding in desperation. I couldn’t plead with my eyes or my voice, but he could see I wanted it out. He saw I was in pain. “Ok, we’ll see what your ass wants.” While I was nodding, Vanya had pushed the plug in just a few millimetres further. Being past the ball’s equator my muscles started contracting. As my tight ring struggled to shrink back, it travelled down the plugs surface, eagerly sucking it in.



I cried and sobbed uncontrollably as it dawned on me how my own body had betrayed me. I had never felt more humiliated. Not this. I’m filthy, I’m filthy, I’m bad. He manipulated my helpless body to make it seem my tortured butt was begging him for more abuse. My body complies with him despite my will. He really does own me.



“Oh, your greedy ass is loving it. Can you feel it filling you, my lovely little slut?” The pain stopped getting worse. The plug sat snug in my rectum, where my own tortured body had sucked it in.



Vanya let me close my legs. The plug felt strange inside me. The mattress heaved as he got up from the bed. His weight returned and moved on top of me, straddling my chest and arms. He stroked my nose, my only source of air.



“Take a deep breath.”



I knew what he would do and sucked hungrily until he clamped my nose shut. I panicked instantaneously. If he’s a killer this is it. But he can’t be. He wanted to take care of me. He washed me, he held me. Could he suffocate me? I tried to wrench my head free but he was too strong. I need to breathe. I tried to throw him off me but he was too heavy. Will he kill me? Did he say душенька? I couldn’t remember. I need air. I can’t remember. I got to breathe.



He let go and I sucked in air and snot through my nostrils. He let me breathe for a minute and put a finger on my nose again. I fill my lungs, and the minute I stop sucking air he squeezes my nose shut. He didn’t say it. I was sure. Why won’t he talk to me? My lungs burned. I need to see his face. I don’t want to die like this. I tried to breathe through the duct tape though I knew I couldn’t. Will he really kill me? If I could just see his face I’d know. I need to breathe. I thrashed desperately but he was too heavy to shift or to get my hands free. I need air. Please let me breathe.



Thankfully he let go of my nose before I blacked out. He repeated this about seven times. I’m not sure. He allowed me three or four breaths of air between chokes. It was like I’d lived my whole life in the dark, waiting for a little hole to open, through which air would come. All other thoughts were gone. I was sure he’d continue until once he wouldn’t let go anymore, and I would have to suffer the burning pain in my chest until I’d die in panic.



I realized I had breathed free for some time. He tore off the duct tape and I gasped enjoying the safety of two airways. He stroked my face. He still hadn’t said anything and I didn’t like it. He’d made me afraid many times but his silence was worse, unnerving. It reminded me of psychopathic killers in movies.



He put one of his fingers in my mouth. I knew the meaning of that and sucked on it gently. He sighed. Perhaps he’d be gentle if I was. He took hold of my head by the hair and shifted his weight. His cock touched my lips. I kissed its head and teased him, flicking with my tongue. I was eager to please. I didn’t want to die. I needed to make him say something. I sucked him deeper into my mouth where I could massage him better with my tongue. As more of him slid inside my mouth he groaned “боже мой,” bozhe moy, oh god.



My hands were pinned by his thighs but were free from elbows down. I lay my hands on the backs of his thighs and nudged gently to imply he could control the rhythm himself. He groaned and pushed his way inside, seeking the depth where I’d start gagging. He started murmuring, but with words so blurred and incoherent I couldn’t make them out. His Russian made me safer. That flow of resonating buzz could not carry cruelty. I knew he wasn’t going to kill me.



He fucked my mouth slowly, keeping regular breaks letting me swallow some phlegm and breathe. When I was uncomfortable I’d touch his thigh lightly and he’d let me cough or lubricate him slicker with saliva. When we’d established a routine, he started moving faster and plunging deeper. He reached behind my head and removed my blindfold. The light stung my eyes for a while, but I was relieved to see his face again. He wanted to look into my eyes when he would push into my throat the first time. Just as he had wanted when he first thrust himself in my pussy or penetrated my ass. He fed me his whole length, not stopping when I began to gag. He buried his shaft deep, it tickled my larynx choking me. I kept his gaze defiantly. My pussy twitched in pleasure and my muscles tightened around the plug filling my throbbing butt. Vanya kept his hold on my head moaning, groaning and mumbling.



Wetness welled in my cunt when he started fucking my face for real. I was helpless: hands pinned down, head propped for easy access, mouth vulnerable and a cock down my throat blocking all screams and pleas, my face covered in drool. He had a rhythm of five or six fast shallower thrusts and a single slow one down my throat. He pushed until his balls were resting against my chin and he could get no deeper. I masturbated, massaging my clit faster and faster, while I licked his cock sliding past my tongue. Every time he paused to rest his length in my throat, enjoying my gags, my pussy tingled. I was wretched and I was horny and I loved his unyielding weight on me. He forced himself again down my throat and stayed there for a longer moment, not letting me breathe, murmuring to me what a good girl and how dirty a slut I was for him. His smut talk instantly washed me over the edge and I came, unexpectedly and violently. My throat spasmed and he kept groaning dirty things to me, as my third hole milked him as frantically as the others had. I felt like I was throwing up his cock. My legs thrashed uncontrollably. Rigid, cramping and convulsing, I rode an extended orgasm. He pulled out and I gasped for air, my slit still throbbing with arousal. I lay there dazed and content after my orgasm as he kept on using me. His pace got faster and faster until half of his frenzied thrusts bumped into my lips and cheeks.



He started moving down my body, shaking. “I’m gonna, I’m gonna c… I’m sorry baby. The plug, gotta feel,” he panted. “I need to cum inside you.” At least I think it’s what he said for he had resorted to Russian. He’d lost his Finnish fucking my throat. He shut my mouth with his hand, rested his weight on his other hand by my head and eased his way in my aching burning cunt. He made a few slow strokes in and out to lubricate himself. I was dripping my own wetness and the gel he’d put in me.



He was too worked up to go easy on me and began pounding wildly inside me with desperate shoves. He bellowed the whole time, his back rigid, his stabs becoming more and more savage. He’ll make me bleed again. He was so close to coming, it took only fifteen seconds of cruel abuse of my cunt for him to explode inside me in uncontrollable shakes. It was an eternity for me though, every thrust agony, every bump against my hips torment. I had the plug up my ass which made my pussy even tighter, even less able to accommodate an invader. It was a good thing he had cupped his hand over my mouth because I howled in pain.



He collapsed on top of me, breathing heavily. Reaching down between my legs he whispered exhausted, “Be still now, I’ll do this as gently as I can.”



There wasn’t a way to do it gently. My sphincter had retracted closer to its normal state. He would force it open without any easing, and pull the plug out the biggest ball first. How would he be able to make it anything but excruciating? I started crying before he even touched the handle of the plug. He put his lips on my ear. “извините душенька моя.” Izvinite dushenka moya, I’m sorry baby.



The mass of pain that was once my pelvic region throbbed in agony. It hurt just to lay down and have my weight pressing it into the mattress. I could feel my heart beats in there as new blood gushed to the veins. By this time I was convinced that his anesthetic gel was placebo. He put the side of his hand between my teeth and started to pull on the plug. He was feeling guilty and didn’t want me to suffer the pain alone.



I tried to pant, relax my ass, to brace myself, to adjust my butt to a better angle, but nothing changed the fact that the thing would tear my anus yet again. He kept a steady pull on it. At first the plug dragged the skin and tissue around my anus outward with it. Slowly my sphincter started to stretch, showing a growing little circle of plug around its base. Vanya kept pulling and I bit down and tried not to scream too much so the neighbours wouldn’t hear.



The pain was so shocking my tears had stopped. I hated Vanya. I was furious. I was already hurting like hell before he took me to the bathroom to use my battered body again. He knew how raw and torn I was and he’d put me through more. He had no right. I remembered the buried alive panic when he held my nose shut while my mouth was taped. I stopped holding back and used his hand as a gag. I bit down on it as he pulled my insides out through my tiny opening, which would probably be a gaping hole by the time he’d get the plug out.



The anger helped me bear the pain. I seethed and hated and bit down on his hand and groaned.



“It’s almost out, just a little left,” he assured me but I couldn’t stop the scream anymore. The widest part was coming through. I knew after it the pain would abate, but it did not make these seconds any easier. The seconds were long. Vanya didn’t dare to pull harder and kept the same, steady, agonizingly slow pace. The last times he’d abused me, I had mercifully passed out, but now I wasn’t exhausted enough to receive the same pardon. Finally I felt the pain lessen. The plug came out, the smaller balls eliciting less intense twangs of pain. When it was gone my butt felt really strange. The raw aching feeling was familiar but the sense of void I’d never had in my butt before.



Vanya rose up and sat on the side of the bed looking at the floor. He was obviously anxious. I lay still and tried to get myself together.



“I’ll…” Vanya muttered, and stood up taking a few hesitant steps. “I…” he started but couldn’t finish.



I rose, fury overruling the crippling pain, and lunged at him. There was a disgusting slick feeling between my buttocks and thighs. I managed to surprise him with a hard slap in the face. I beat him in the chest and everywhere else in my reach and kicked him.



“God damn it Vanya, never fucking ever duct tape my mouth! I thought you were going to kill me when you pinched my nose you lying bastard! You said you wouldn’t –” At some point during my outburst I had started crying. I shouted and sobbed and pounded my fists on his chest. Me hitting him was like a ladybug hitting a sparrow, and when he’d had enough he simply put his arms around me and hugged me to his chest until I gave up trying to get a hand free to hit him. His hand was purple from where I’d bit him.



“Listen for a moment.” Vanya’s voice was distressed. “I knew you wanted me at the club. I felt it, an energy, like a hum you tried to hide.” His shoulders slumped a little. “Then I had to leave. My friends, remember?” He emphasized the word friends in a mocking tone. “When I ran into you, I, I didn’t plan… this. I just wanted to see you again. See if you… if you’d still hum for me.” He’d lifted his hands on my face. He stroked my cheeks looking me in the eyes. “In the park I felt it, strong, but you were holding back. I knew you wanted me to touch you, take you even but you didn’t want to say it. A pretty little thing like you, just aching for it, and so scared that what you want is wrong.” He took my hands in to his, holding them between us. “I had to make sure. I asked if you wanted me, but things got really intense. I know now I went too far but when I learned you liked to be hurt, liked to be dominated, I got excited and didn’t know where to stop.”

A story of the building up of sexual tension and its inevitable explosion between a runaway and a man who takes her in. This grew in the telling so for those in search for a quickie, scroll down to chapter eight for the first intercourse.



Chapter one



Siri’s life wasn’t actually a life as much as it was an Easter egg, carefully painted layers of chocolate to cover all the things that should have been there and weren’t. She’d dreamed of leaving since she was fourteen and after ten years knew exactly where she’d go – Eastern Europe. To be sure, it wasn’t the safest of destinations for a woman travelling alone, but an ideal choice for anyone hoping to disappear. At Helsinki West Terminal she boarded the M/S Baltic Princess with the firm intention of never to return. What ever she would decide to do Siri was confident that no one could trace her from a country like Belarus or Slovakia and she would be in peace.



***



As it was 2000s Siri had expected to get by relatively well with English, but she didn’t. Neither did her moderate skills in Russian help her as much as she had hoped for. In addition the rather romantic expectations she’d had of her chosen refuge to large extent proved to be misconceptions. Eastern Europe was loud, pushy and restless and the gypsy life proved more taxing than she’d anticipated. She took in the flood of people, colours and sounds without resorting to her medicine, however, after the hustle and bustle of Warsaw she was in desperate need for silence.



She changed busses at the Ukrainian border and in a few hours felt the tightening in her chest ease as she gazed out the window at the fields, moors and lakes of Shatskyi national park. After a careful study of her map Siri got off the bus seemingly in the middle of nowhere. From where she stood stretched out a ten kilometre hike to one of the smaller lakes of the area, hopefully a paradise of peace and quiet.



She skirted fields and crossed through thickets of deciduous trees among open fields of short grass. The ground was even and the day wasn’t particularly hot but the marching tired her out quickly. She reached the lake hours later than she’d estimated, sweaty and utterly spent. Feeling faint she struggled to put up her tent and fell asleep as soon as she had her sleeping bag and mattress unrolled.



She slept fitfully, shivering from cold, drifting from one terrifying nightmare to another. Every time she stirred she gulped down large amounts of water, and eventually she had to pee. Too spooked to unzip the door to the unknown she urinated into the bowl of her Trangia, too befuddled from fever to feel the slightest bit silly.



When dawn chased the darkness away her fear let go and she slept for a few straight hours. Besides that the morning brought little in the way of relief. By ten a.m. the temperature inside the tent had climbed to uncomfortable levels but Siri was too sick to move her bed outside. She had only one litre of water left which meant she would have to move before it ran out completely. In one of the Shatskyi lakes the water was said to be safe to drink, but it wasn’t her lake.



It was near eight p.m. when Siri forced herself up on wobbly legs and left her camp. She staggered towards the road, but the whole world was gibberish. She clung to her map and compass but couldn’t bring her sluggish brain to remember how to use them.



Dusk fell and her unease returned. Startled by every sound and shape she hurried on, consumed by her fear. Tears streamed from her eyes and she talked to herself in whispers, hanging on to the last semblance of self control. She had long finished the last of her water when in the looming darkness her eyes suddenly focused on a tiny distant light.



Hope went a long way. She let her backpack thump on the ground and ignored her thirst, aches and fever. She kept on for another two hours until the light went out and the house that had emanated it was swallowed by darkness. In an instant the hope that had sustained her died and took with it all her strength. She took a few hesitating steps but her knees bent and she collapsed. Just before fading into nothingness, she saw the first promises of a new sunrise in the horizon.



Chapter two



Choma carried the girl in the house and laid her carefully on the sofa. He might have walked right past her had his ears not picked up the sharp wheeze of her breathing. The girl looked like death and his mind was in shambles. He knew the first priority was to get off her wet clothes but it didn’t feel right to strip the poor girl naked. He needed help. Larisa would know what to do but he didn’t like leaving her alone in the state she was in. Yet, too worried not to, he covered her in blankets and hurried to his battered old truck.



***



“What is she doing in those wet clothes?” Larisa exclaimed walking in the room. “Choma Danylovych, what on earth were you thinking?” It was the first time in years Choma heard Larisa swear. “You old fool, it’s the wrong bloody time to be a prude.” Choma hung his head. Larisa was right and he was ashamed of his earlier sheepishness. “Off with you then. Put water to boil and bring her something dry to sleep in,” she said hurrying to remove her clothes.



Choma returned with a long cotton shirt. “You’ll have to help me. I can’t dress her on my own. Don’t be ridiculous, Choma, God knows it’s not the first time you see a naked woman.” This isn’t a woman, she’s a girl, he thought dismally but didn’t contradict.



“Prop her up,” ordered Larisa and Choma slid his hands to the small of her back and pushed. As her body rose into a sitting position, the blanket slid down and Choma saw her beautiful round breasts with tiny half erected nipples. His thoughts instantly wandered to what they would feel like in his hands, how would it feel to press his lips to that soft flesh.



As soon as it had appeared the sight was gone; Larisa had gotten the girl’s hands into the sleeves and buttoned the shirt up commanding him to carry their patient upstairs. Her body felt soft through the thin fabric and, shivering, Choma took her into the small bedroom and lay her on the mattress. There was something disturbingly erotic in her unconscious form on the bed before him, but Larisa’s voice woke him to reality. “Bring some juice and all hot water bottles you have. And a decent book if you don’t mind, I’ll get under the covers to warm her up.”



“Will she be ok?” asked Choma.



“I honestly don’t know,” answered Larisa shaking her head.



Choma tried to go about his work but was plagued by images of the girl’s naked breasts and the two women huddling tightly against each other under the blankets. He couldn’t concentrate and spent the day walking around aimlessly, his thoughts constantly on the room upstairs and the sick girl within. In the evening Larisa took her leave imploring him to vigilance, “She has a high fever, keep a close eye on her. I’ll be back tomorrow to see how she’s doing.”



Choma sat with her the whole night wiping her face with a wet cloth. Larisa had remade her dishevelled braid, and it ran on the duvet leading Choma’s eyes once more onto her chest. He tucked the coil of hair in with the girl to rid himself of the image of her breasts. Choma expected to unravel her mystery but though she kept murmuring and babbling it was impossible to make out what she was saying. At times she woke up from a nightmare, eyes wide in terror, but when he tried to talk to her she didn’t respond and fell back asleep.



Choma took pity on her. She was restless, tossed and turned, kicking her duvet aside. Dutifully he tucked her back in, each time trying to ignore her pale legs and thoughts of placing his hand on her thigh and sliding it up along her soft skin all the way beneath the hem of her shirt. His solitary life had mellowed his passions, but to have someone enticing and vulnerable there for his taking rekindled the needs he’d long subdued. No, he said to himself countless times during the night, don’t even think about it.



Come morning he woke up from his chair, every muscle stiff. The girl looked angelic in the soft orange light. Choma reached for her braid and slid it in his hand; his crotch stirred and so did his quilt. It was wrong of him to desire her. Too young, he chided himself and snorted, too unconscious. Still, he neglected his work and hovered over his little patient, stroking her brow and soothing her when she got restless.



More than once her distress had a wanton shade and she grasped his petting arm, writhing against it, trying to push it down towards her crotch. When she got like that it took all his self discipline to pull his hand away and leave the room. It would have been so easy to convince himself then that she was willing and use her inert body to sate himself.



He said nothing of those moments to Larisa when she arrived to check on her as promised. However her remedies didn’t extend much beyond common sense and there was nothing more she could do for the girl. They would have to let the fever run its course.



Chapter three



The first thing that registered was the smell of an old house. Knowing she wasn’t at home, she sat up slowly to find herself groggy in a strange dark room. She had shattered recollections of someone holding a cup to her lips, of fleeting voices and a rough hand stroking her forehead. She looked around her and listened – nothing. She wasn’t in a town or a city, for there was no light coming from the windows or any sounds of traffic. Fear swelled in her chest, fear of dark and of strangers. They’ve taken care of me this far, she reminded herself but the fear ran deeper than that.



Her hands shot up to her chest to fumble the long white shirt that covered her down to her thighs – it wasn’t hers. Feeling small and very much alone she saw in her mind a vague human shape stripping her, cruelly stealing from her the privacy to her own body. Her hands sought out her braid to hold on to something familiar, but she could tell at once it wasn’t of her own making.



Sitting still was impossible. She had to know where she was. She eased herself off the bed and on her shaky legs. Cursing every creek of the floor she shuffled to lean on the wall and opened the door. Behind it was a landing with stairs going down and two other doors. She detected a weak source of light from downstairs and proceeded to the first step. It took a moment to think up a best way to climb down and finally she sat down on the first step and one step at a time slid herself down.



Roaming in a strange house made her feel guilty but she didn’t want to announce herself just yet. She wanted to know who her hosts were first. On the last step she reached for the railing and pulled herself up. The hallway seemed to spin around her and she leaned against the wall, willing the world to stay still while she made her way towards the light.



She peeked into a cosy living room with an old fireplace and shabby furniture, a man sat in a chair facing the fire. His hair was touched by grey and his skin darkened by a lifetime spent outdoors. With her legs inevitably tiring, Siri studied Choma’s profile holding her breath. It’s his shirt. He’s touched me. Her nipples hardened and she realized she had no underwear. Has he used me? Her pussy tingled but there was no pain. Would I feel it if he has–, while I slept? Siri saved herself from the stain of the word. Christ, there may be semen welling in me right now. What will he do to me? Oh, I have to get out of here!



She meant to get her things and run but Choma had sensed her presence and looked up from his book. Surprised to find her up he hurried to her. Siri felt surreal for the man’s speech sounded like Russian but she couldn’t understand any of it. She closed her eyes in brink of tears and cowered against the wall. “No, please, no,” she pleaded when he approached.



Choma, ignoring her silly fear, put a hand under her arm and led her a few clumsy steps, sitting her down on the worn sofa. Disoriented and scared, the girl recoiled from him and backed in to the corner of the couch. Hoping she would snap out of it, Choma stepped back from the trembling girl.



Waiting for his little ward to wake up he’d done what he could to make himself presentable and thus was a far neater looking man than the unkempt near hermit that found her. He’d shaven, trimmed his hair and found some clothes that hadn’t seen too many runs in the workshop. Still, he was a rugged, serious looking man and the long years alone hadn’t improved his social skills. He tried his best to look unthreatening but doubted his success.



He crouched to be on her level. “Listen, you’re safe here. I’m Choma, this is my house. I found you when you were sick.” She snatched an old quilt and covered herself. Choma was disappointed, he had expected a more cheerful moment than this. With his hands held up he rose and moving slowly past the girl sat down on the armrest of a chair next to the sofa. He kept his tone calm trying his best to reassure her but the confusion following her awakening was persistent and hard to penetrate. She starred at him with eyes bright with fever, her hands clutched the quilt and she cowered if he so much as shifted slightly.



They sat there a long while, her shock lessening and her breathing slowing down. As the minutes passed, and the man seemingly didn’t intend to harm her, Siri’s tense muscles loosened up. She closed her eyes and finally her brain picked words she understood. He said ‘my name is’. “Choma,” she murmured sleepily and, as the drowsiness of fever flooded her head, added, “I’m… Ya Siri.”



She stirred to his hand stroking her hair. Choma was standing right next to her, smiling a warm smile that deepened the crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes. That particular touch had since childhood been a promise of love, shelter and caring and Siri gave in to it. If Choma had wanted to hurt her he could have done so. With her eyes half closed she leaned her head against her rescuer in a silent plea for solace. When he slipped his hands under her arms and hauled her up she didn’t question it.



Choma led the woozy girl back to bed. Siri was unsteady on her feet but Choma kept his strong arm around her and didn’t let her fall. He tucked her in and she muttered, “Hyvää yötä,” good night, her eyes already closed. “Na dobranič,” he replied automatically and sat down on the little chair in which he’d lately spent so many hours.



Siri fell asleep quickly, too tired to be aware of strangers or danger. Choma watched her. His flesh throbbed where she had laid her head. That intimation made him feel even more protective of her than before. Yet at the same time the image of her cowering form, bare legs and frightened eyes harried him. Her small hands had squeezed so hard on the quilt which she had trusted to hide her vulnerability.



He had wanted to give her a reason to fear, to be the man she had thought him to be. Those legs had led not just his eyes but also his imagination to the secrets hidden in the shadows under the shirt. Choma imagined her face if he had taken the blanket from her and cupped her little pussy in his hand. His penis swelled and bent uncomfortably in his trousers. He grunted softly and shifted to let it bounce straight. He looked at the sleeping form of the girl, Siri, and gathered his strength of will to exit the room.



***



She was floating in shallow water. Their faces hovered over her. She tried to explain but they wouldn’t listen. They wanted her to swim where the water was so dark she’d be drawn in to the abyss. A weak current tugged at her feet. “I don’t want to,” she whispered at the faces, but the current got stronger and pulled at her body. “I won’t! You can’t make me!” she yelled, petrified of the unknown. The faces closed in to devour her and she screamed.



Her dream was penetrated by whispers and shushing. A warm and real hand stroked her clammy forehead. She noted a faint rustle of clothes and sensed the man standing right beside her. Choma’s hand rested on her cheek and he leaned closer. In a heartbeat all traces of sleep were gone. He brought his nose to her neck and breathed in her scent. Oh, god. She nearly twitched when the nausea hit her. What happened while I slept? Frozen still she waited for Choma to crush her beneath his body and force himself inside her. Her terrified mind could feel her legs already spread and a man between them. Not this. Please.



She wanted to plea but as long as he thought she was asleep there was a chance it would all go away. Her chest was tight as she desperately held back a sob; she could almost feel his hands roaming her defenceless body and his fingers parting her nether lips for his cock. If he raped her, she had no choice but to lie down and let him. He was too strong to fight and besides, where would she run without clothes. She didn’t even know where she was. Before a tear escaped from beneath her closed eyelids he stepped away from the bed and left the room. She heard a very heavy sigh as he closed the door.



Chapter four



In the morning Siri felt a little better and sat on the bed plucking up courage to leave the room. Her clothes waited on a chair, washed clean, panties and all. She remembered some flashes of last night and was uneasy to face the man again. She desperately wanted to wash. The not knowing of what he had or hadn’t done to her while she was out ate at her. Her cunt itched and wouldn’t let her mind rest. The doubt of having been soiled was unbearable. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Stop thinking about sex! She wondered if her mind was racing so because she had gone off her medicine or was it her instincts crying out to warn her.



She found him in the kitchen preparing what turned out to be a rather awkward breakfast. Choma, although trying hard to hide it, resented that Siri was still obviously afraid of him. He wanted to be understanding but her suspicion made him feel stupid for looking after her. Her memory, on the other hand, was coming back and she knew she was in Ukraine, but not getting any further answers was infuriating. She was grasping at straws trying every language she knew and a few she didn’t. She kept coming back to English and Russian but the man didn’t show any signs of recognition. Siri buried her face in her hands, hot tears burning in her eyes, and Choma took pity on the disheartened girl. “Larisa will be glad to see you up. Larisa is my friend.” Siri looked up. “She helped you too.” He felt stupid talking to her as if she was a lackwit, “Larisa will come visit.”



The woman Choma later led to the living room was in her fifties and emitted purposefulness that bordered on intimidating. Not bothering to slow down her speech, she greeted Siri kindly introducing herself as Larisa Ivasivna. She shooed Choma out of the room and prompted Siri to take off her shirt and bra. She was embarrassed but Larisa laughed it away and assured her in a no-nonsense voice. Gingerly Siri undressed and the older woman looked her over front and back. Feeling fragile and exposed Siri’s thoughts wandered to Choma and his visit during the night.



Siri couldn’t understand what Larisa was saying and her imagination conjured up one scary explanation after another. She was stiff with fear, sure that Larisa was a brothel keeper here to buy her. The thought of strange men looking at her nakedness burned and froze her simultaneously and her nipples hardened. She stared at the ceiling willing what ever was to come to be over soon.



Siri’s breath caught in her throat when Larisa pressed an ear between her plump breasts. It was humiliating to be naked in front of a stranger and shocking to be touched. Larisa said something and exaggerated her own breathing and Siri resumed taking in air. The woman straightened her back and turned Siri around. An ear pressed against her upper back and Siri dutifully breathed for her nurse. Larisa started chattering and though Siri didn’t understand the words she recognized the tone from a hundred check ups, after which followed the doctors statement of everything being ok.

Siri put her shirt back on in a hurry. Seeing that her patient was decent Larisa called Choma back in and explained him that Siri’s lungs were fine. Choma’s smile was relieved. He looked at Siri but she cast her eyes down, still uncomfortable to have been examined so brusquely.



Choma invited Larisa to stay but she declined, charging Choma with the care of Siri. He was glancing frequently at her, her meek eyes meeting with his. Larisa ended her speech in a cheeky joke embarrassing the both of them, though Siri had no grasp of the contents of it. Siri could tell it wasn’t the first time Larisa met her and she wondered which of them had stripped her and put her to bed.



The front door closed and Siri and her benefactor were alone. Siri saw her bra laying on the man’s coffee table, flushed and swept them in her pocket. The floorboards creaked under his feet as Choma returned to the living room. Siri crossed her arms to hide her erect nipples poking through her shirt. It didn’t help her to relax that she was thinking the whole time if he had seen her naked. Does he know what I look like under my clothes? Is he thinking about it? Did he touch me when he undressed me? Siri imagined his phantom finger stroking her unconscious body. A shudder ripped through her and she was powerless to subdue it. Choma rushed to her, alarmed that she would suffer a relapse. Siri was thankful he’d never know of the real source of the shudder, of the throb between her legs.



Choma broke the silence by taking her to have a look around his homestead. Most of the house she’d already seen, but outside a big yard was framed by a shed, a workshop, a sloping blackcurrant field of some 40 bushes and a small kitchen garden with fruit trees. Behind the workshop were ten carefully planted rows of strawberries. The house was ornate but a bit run-down alike those she’d seen in pictures taken of Russian Carelian countryside. Where the slope ended flowed a little stream, a stretch of which Choma had widened into a bathable pool. In the middle of the yard stood a chicken coo with its cackling inhabitants and a greenhouse pieced together from old windowpanes. Siri was impressed for the farm was not unlike some of the more utopistic dreams of down to earth life she’d harboured back home.



Still, she wanted to know where she was, where was her backpack, her passport, her everything. In her honest believe that everyone everywhere had to know some English — if just a few latent words picked up from pop lyrics — she tried to reach him. His back to her, leaning against the mantelpiece, Choma felt cruel for not answering but as much as he wanted to he couldn’t.



With no helpful bystanders there to translate, after a series of unsuccessful attempts she fell into tears shouting at him in Finnish, desperate and frustrated not to get through to the only person she had to ask anything from. He turned around and walked to her. More clumsy than the previous night he hugged her to him and she was in such a state that this intimacy with a stranger didn’t throw her off, she just buried her face to his chest, mewing. He stroked her hair and tried to calm her down, speaking softly. The sofa wasn’t three meters away but he scooped her up and carried her to it.



He lay her down and she felt very vulnerable. Siri was afraid he’d take advantage of her but he fetched a blanket from one of the chairs and threw it over her. He said something to her she couldn’t understand and left the room. Soon after she heard him leave the house.



She went on sobbing for a long time, huddling in a foetal position beneath the blanket. When her body had no strength for sobs left, silent tears streamed down her face, welling in the hollow of her eye. The little quilt pillow under her head was wet as was the blanket she had dried her tears with. After an hour of regretting ever leaving home she fell asleep.



Siri woke up with Choma crouching beside her and his hand stroking her forehead. She sat up quickly, startled to wake up to a strange face looming over her. It took a while to remember who he was. According to the grandfather clock in the corner he’d left her for over four hours. His clothes were wet and behind him she saw her backpack. Seeing her smile, Choma felt like a daddy on Christmas morning. He dragged the pack to her and she started unpacking, searching comfort from her familiar things. Everything was damp but undamaged except things made of paper. The brochures were a disgusting grey paste but her passport, notebook and maps were safe each in their own ziplock bags.



Squinting over a map, she deduced she was on the opposite side of the lake than where the bus route ran. Choma reached his hand for her notebook, and she let him take a look at it for he wouldn’t be able to read her Finnish anyway. He studied the different tickets and poured over her drawings nodding apprecietatively. He turned the pages back to the title of the very first page. “Koti?” he asked. “Home,” she answered, “дом,” dom, and took the book away from him. She needed no remainders that if she wasn’t happy at her old life, this new she had chosen, this vagrancy, was not making her glow with happiness either.



She showed him the calendar and the day she got off the bus and Choma pointed at six days from it. She felt uneasy, the man had had her in that room for three days, helpless and senseless. He lives here alone. Everyone has needs. Would he have used me? Her pussy prickled, and deep inside her vagina a burning sensation began where his imaginary semen would have settled.



The knot in her stomach didn’t leave her alone and she felt him inside her the whole evening. When ever he looked at her or came close she shuddered and winced as her cunt cramped. Her skin smouldered with goosebumps when she thought of how he’d hugged her, what it had felt like, her breasts pressing on his chest, his arms on her back pressing her gently against him.



Finally it was late enough to get up and say goodnight. Her walk was stiff as she made her way back to her room upstairs. Her whole body was tense after the wandering of her restless thoughts and, mind whirling, she couldn’t sleep. She wanted to touch herself but didn’t dare in this unfamiliar place. And what if he’ll catch me? She could subdue the moans almost completely but he might hear her heavy breathing. After a while she heard the stairs creak as Choma came up. His steps on the landing pierced her heart and she realized how wound up she was. He stopped outside her door for a moment and she could feel the beats of her heart as bulging pressure in her ears as she waited for him to turn the latch.



Then the floor creaked, he walked away and her body went limp. She breathed trying to catch the breath she’d been holding. It was not fear, not derision – her body wanted him.



***



In the night she stirred, the door to her room had opened. He came in, trying to avoid the creaking floorboards on the path to her bed. She tensed and stopped breathing as he came close and placed his hand on her forehead. When he caressed her, she couldn’t stop the air from escaping her lungs in a tiny gasp and her legs squirming to ease the pressing need in her pussy. Choma hastily withdrew his hand and left the room.



She lay awake for a long time and finally after hearing his low rumbling snores from behind the wall she dared to slide her hands on her pussy and bring herself off. She wished she had something inside, filling her pussy, on which her muscles could clamp on. Remembering that all her toiletry bottles were still downstairs with the pack she cursed.



***



On their second day she followed him around when he went about his work. She traced his steps as he walked between the rows of blackcurrant bushes checking the progress of the crop. She handed him tools as he fixed the fence of the chicken coo and listened keenly to his chatting. When she heard a word she recognized she repeated it and nodded, relieved to understand something. Her Russian was mostly ridiculous but she kept trying.



In the evening she came to his workshop and after watching him work for a while reached for his old apron, wanting to help. Choma was happy for she certainly prettied up his old shed. Her eyes were full of laughter, squinting into green teasing cat eyes and Choma never knew if the seduction in them was innate, intended or only of his imagination. When she smiled the crack between her front teeth made Choma want to smile with her. He wondered what her hair looked like. She always kept it tightly braided but as cute as it was he wished he could watch her brush it out and see her long strawberry blonde hair flowing down her shoulders.



Chapter five



At first the girl had been nothing but his chance to make amends, but watching her and nursing her had given him a feeling of power over her. She was in his hands and he couldn’t help being turned on by it. When she woke up and turned out to be the picture of innocence, shy and girly, he’d been ashamed of himself, but through her sweetness he felt her gazes on him, too intense to miss. She was hard to read but in any case the dirty thoughts he had pained him and made him feel guilty. She was older than he’d thought when he found her but still twenty two years younger than him. She was too vulnerable for him to have her in his head naked and moaning. Yet every night there she was.



Each night there was also more tension in their parting to sleep in their respective rooms. He’d begun to think of it as her room and every day it was more difficult to remember what the house had been like before her. In the evenings he liked to sit in the living room with her sitting nearby crouching over her journal. He wished he could understand her strange language for the notebook could probably answer many of his questions.



The girl had been well enough to travel for a few days but she didn’t seem to be in any hurry. Not that he complained, it was nice to have company. It was difficult to understand though. Where had she come from? She must have been on her way to somewhere when he’d found her but what the hell was she doing out there in the middle of nowhere alone. Since she travelled with such a backpack she might be just another tourist but his homestead wasn’t much of an attraction. He’d checked her passport and the stamps traced her steps from Finland through the Baltic states, Belarus and Poland all the way to Ukraine.



The name she’d given him was none of the three first names listed on the passport. Was that important? What did she want? Why was she staying? Choma had his own sinister suspicions but he’d left that life so long ago. If she had been sent to search for Vakhno she’d have a passport to match any name she went by.



Chapter six



The work of the day was done and Choma was reading on the couch. Siri came to him, sat down and looking at him timidly leaned her head in his lap. He didn’t know what to make of it and the situation might have been very awkward but she was so calm that it rubbed on him. She lay still, occasionally rubbing her head in his lap, drinking in some kind of solace but he didn’t feel drained, on the contrary he felt invigorated. He put a hand over her head and she let out a long sigh. A moment later she was asleep. It hadn’t been sexual but now she was sleeping his mind raced and he had to wake her up. Her t-shirt had a wide rectangular neckline and he could see the tops of her breasts. Like all of her they seemed innocent and soft. He wanted to cup them in his hands and close the whole girl in his arms, but it would be a disaster to have her wake up to his stiffening penis poking at the back of her head. Stroking her head he woke her up and sent her upstairs to sleep in her own bed.



Siri couldn’t sleep for her thoughts wandered to the moments during the day he’d stood so close to her that a deep breath would have made them brush against each other. Little ripples of warmth travelled on her skin and she sensed acutely the cool cotton of the sheets on her and the weight of the duvet. She was hot and pushed the duvet from her chest, imagining all the sensations of his big warm hands exploring her body, searching a way in. His imagined touch reached her knees and she spread her legs, straining her tendons as wide as she could to invite him to touch her. The duvet slid down to the valley between her legs and the bundle had her aching for Choma’s heavy frame there, his flesh against hers. She bent her knees and reached her hands to her crotch. She’d made herself wet, the juices from inside her had leaked out and spread as she had writhed and gyrated in her imaginations. Her whole pussy was sticky and glistening.



Her own touch was not what her body craved, but when she parted her wet lips and rested her fingers over the fold of flesh that hid her pearl it didn’t matter, she just needed to get off and fast. Rubbing wildly she let out two little moans while writhing in her fantasies, but anyone could moan faintly in their sleep. When she came she moaned louder and cursed as her startle took off the sharpest edge of her orgasm leaving her angry, wanton and disappointed.



Her annoyance stopped as she heard creaking from behind the wall. Choma had gotten up. Too nervous to breathe she lay back down and straightened her night shirt. She tried to kick the duvet back to cover her but managed only to reveal her other leg in its entirety. She was aware of the smell of her steaming pussy in the air above her. She quickly hid her smelly rubbing hand under her ass and blew the air from her lungs to disperse the cloud around her. The metallic klick of the door latch opening froze her.



Through his sleep Choma had heard her moan. After all his solitude he was sensitive to noises in his house. He’d heard a moan just like the ones she’d let out in her fever delirium. He walked carefully to the landing and entered her room. The girl had kicked the covers aside and her brow was hot and sweaty. Her breathing was closer to panting than the deep breathing of a sleeper. “Please don’t get ill again little angel,” Choma whispered and wiped the clammy sweat from her forehead and stroked her as he had so many times before. She was a sweet thing. He stared at her bare leg, the old shirt askew, lips slightly open, chest heaving. He shivered at the sight, knowing that if he slid his hand up her leg he’d find the hot moist snatch of a sleeping woman. He wanted her. He looked at her breasts, the soft shapes he could more remember than see in the darkness.



Without thinking he brushed his hand down the side of her head. When it touched her neck above her collarbone she whimpered and twitched. Quickly Choma removed his hand, embarrassed if the girl should wake. She didn’t move again and the sweat hadn’t reappeared and her breathing had normalized. Perhaps it was just a nightmare. He stood still for a moment and as the girl slept peacefully, straightened her duvet to cover her from neck to toe.



She waited for him to touch her, she wished for him to touch her, but he walked out. Her clit smouldering, she wanted to speak up, to ask him to come back and make it all better, but what would he think of her? His opinion had become to mean something to her. She had had plans where she was to go after the lake visit, in Ukraine and further, and she was well enough to travel again, but she was reluctant to resume her hikes, bus rides and nights in strange hostels. All of that had diminished into an insubstantial haze in her mind after she had waken up in Choma’s house. The man and his way of life interested her, a man who on other hand made her laugh and on the other hand brooded like no other. Where between those two aspects of him could she ask him to grab her tight, strip her and take her?



Here on the homestead of this kindly mechanic had happened the thing she had searched all the way from Estonia to Lithuania and now Ukraine. She had forgotten the anxiety that had driven her to escape her life back home and lost the nagging thoughts that had driven her mad. In this house in the middle of nowhere, where everything was strange and yet so very simple, could she finally breathe and be free from the life she’d been born to, the madness of shopping, competition, degrees, career choices and the little happy pills that got people through it all. If only time would go faster. She wanted him but she didn’t want to be a slut and loose his respect or his friendship, for she felt so right being there.



Chapter seven



They’d been picking blackcurrants all morning. She had to take off her t-shirt in the mid-day heat even though she knew her sweaty chemise showed through more than it hid. The moment of embarrassment was fleeting and the unpleasantness was smothered by the familiar rippling sensation on her clit. Let him see. She closed her eyes and imagined Choma staring at her intently, breathing in ragged bursts. They were both wearing romantic peasant clothes and his gripping eyes held her gaze. Stiffly he took a few steps, closing the distance between them. She was petrified and did nothing when he seized her, blazing with unrestrained desire. Such fire in the generally calm man scared her and she fought back when he proceeded to fell her on the dry ground. “Choma!” she shrieked but no echo took up her plea.



He pushed her skirts up and yanked her bloomers down. “Shh,” he commanded and sticked his berry purple fingers in her mouth to be sucked. “Open your legs,” he demanded. He pulled his hand free and leaned it in the dirt beside her head. “No help from upstairs,” he murmured positioning his other hand, clean of saliva, on her crotch. When his fingertips brushed her pussy she moaned loudly and her body, having waited for this moment for days, arched up to beg him to enter. Her labia, glistening with her secretions, gave no resistance and his dry fingers slid right inside her to search for the opening to her pussy. “You should have told me you needed a man this badly,” Choma sneered as he roughened his advances. Siri yelped when he shoved sharply with his fingers and scratched the linings of her pussy forcing his way in. “Have you been walking around dripping all this time? Little slut, I’ll teach you to hold out on me.”



She was sitting up to undo his trousers when Choma called for her. “What are you staring at silly girl? Has the sun made you faint? Where’s the hat I gave you?” Siri realized she’d been staring at his body with glazed hungry eyes for god knows how long and, blushing terribly, looked down mumbling something unrecognizable.



***



Though his house had a bathroom with a bathtub Choma liked to wash in the stream that ran along his backyard. He crouched over the cold stream every morning and after the day’s work was done. He thought she slept when he walked to it early each morning but Siri watched from her bedroom window as he took off his clothes folding them on a rock and waded up to his waist in the stream, soaping his naked body and crouching down to rinse. It had been mere curiosity at first but as her feelings towards him grew more and more erotic, she watched him with longing, wishing she could join him. She crept back under her duvet to touch herself but often the frustration kept her from getting off. On such mornings sitting opposite him in the kitchen was awkward for she feared he could smell her like a mare in heat — seething, hot and needy.



In the evening Choma lifted the blackcurrant crates to his truck and they drove half an hour to a dilapidated cannery. The proprietor, Oleg, grinned when he saw a girl on the passenger seat. “And I thought you didn’t have any children.” Both men watched as Siri walked timidly to stand a few steps behind Choma.



“Sorry to be the one to break this to you old friend, but she’s too pretty to be of your issue.”

“Very funny Oleg, very funny,” Choma growled as Siri held out her hand to be introduced.



From behind the corner Oleg’s grandson was watching the three, hankering to tell everybody about Choma’s young friend, for there had to be something really dirty in this new piece of gossip.



Chapter eight



His thoughts were a mess, for Choma hadn’t slept that well since Siri had been with him. His dreams were restless and full of images he’d rather not think about: Siri bent over his workbench buttocks quivering, Siri kneeling in front of his chair her throat bulging with his cock, a naked crying Siri pinned against her bedroom door, a terrified Siri thrown on the ground with her dress torn. He had fought these thoughts for almost two weeks but as she was present at every part of his home and at every moment of his day it just wasn’t possible to block her from his mind. Once his sleep was disrupted and he lay awake in his bed, the smooth touch of the sheets on his skin became the touch of her skin and the warmth of his duvet nest the warmth of her body, and any attempt to get back to sleep was doomed.



He visited her room every night, sometimes more than once but the pleasure it had given him when he was looking after her was gone and now it only left him feeling constricted and choked. She always slept on her right side, clutching a pillow in her arms and looking lost. His desire to protect her throbbed ardently and the only thing that throbbed more was his cock. She was too sweet to hurt but he wasn’t sure for how long he could trust himself to fight the urges her presence woke up.



That night when they parted on the landing Siri looked him in the eyes saying “Na dobranič,” and added in Finnish, “I’m waiting for you.” In the night Choma came as he always did and she pretended to sleep while he laid something on the bedside table. She could tell it was a book, but in the darkness it was impossible to find out more.



***



Early the next morning Siri woke up, instantly reaching for the book – an old and worn English-Ukrainian dictionary. She raced downstairs in her white nightshirt, running straight to the kitchen looking for Choma. He turned to face her and laughed to see her so excited. “Now I can talk to you!” Siri whooped wildly and ran to hug him. Choma was stunned as the girl, the warmth of her bed still clinging to her, thumped against him. To Siri the second was a long one before Choma stirred and stiffly put his arms around her. She could feel the warmth of his hands through the thin cotton fabric and didn’t move even after the duration of a normal hug was well past.



When she felt a restless stir in her body, she let go of him and stepped back. She gestured him to wait and consulted her new friend. Finding the word Siri read it out loud, “Happy.” When she looked up, Choma’s expression was restrained; his eyes were fixed on her and she realized that in the rays of morning light beaming through the window, his old shirt must have shown through quite a lot. Suddenly very self-conscious, she gave him a hesitant smile and bolted to the stairs.



Heart pounding she ran into her room, closed the door and stood her back against the back wall breathing hard. All the piled up sexual urges attacked her with vehemence. “No, no, no,” she murmured to herself until the door creaked open. Choma stood in the doorway staring at her, his hands gripping the doorframe. She didn’t move, only stared back with every muscle rigid and let out a weak whine.



Well aware he had invaded her personal space Choma waited for Siri to shoo him away but she didn’t. She was frozen in place, staring at him with her lips slightly apart. He could feel every ounce of his own strength and when she let out that insecure little whimper, there was nothing that could have stopped his hunger. He stalked towards the girl and she yipped in fright, reflexively lifting her hands in front of her. Yet Choma smiled for she hadn’t dodged.



He reached around her and pulled her to him. His other hand was in her neck, keeping her still as he leaned down to kiss her. She wriggled, fighting his embrace, and her hands tried listlessly to push him away but all the time she was kissing him back, her fingers digging into the flesh of his upper arms. Her lips were silky soft and he couldn’t wait to touch the rest of her. His swelling cock pressed hard against the girl’s belly and Siri whinnied. She tried to back away from him, but Choma took a step forward and effectively pinned her between himself and the wall. He moved his hand down and reached for her pussy.



Siri struggled at his rough attempts to cop a feel. If she hadn’t resisted he could’ve done it more gently, but without her cooperation he had to use force to part her lips and find the entrance to her secrets. She yanked herself free but her spinning momentum caused her to crash hard on her bed and Choma was on her like a wolf. He straddled her, restraining her legs and took hold of her hands, pinning them beside her head. There he paused.



The girl had panicked but at first she had been undeniably enthusiastic. Now there was fear in her eyes but there didn’t need to be. If she calmed down Choma was sure she’d like it. He hadn’t forgotten how eagerly her little body had pressed against him in the kitchen – she longed for him just as bad as he longed for her.



He kept his hips in the air so she wouldn’t feel the erection that had spooked her. “Shh,” he breathed, leaning to rub his cheek on hers. He told her not to be scared but couldn’t be sure if she understood, however, the fact that she wasn’t fighting back was an invitation to him. The amount of blood rushed in his cock almost hurt; he shifted and it straightened in his trousers. When he leaned back to her it pressed against her tense body and she let out an anguished moan.



He licked her neck slowly from her collarbone all the way to the spot behind her ear. She resisted and tried to get her hands free but he held her tight. She moaned angrily, but when he started kissing and nibbling her neck softly, she arched into him and her moans petered out into gasps and whimpers.



Letting go of her hands, Choma brushed his palms lightly against her breasts and Siri’s pebble hard nipples raked his skin. He was amazed of her responsiveness for her reactions to his touch were impressively powerful. She gyrated her hips, bucking into him, wordlessly asking to be touched stronger, harder, more. Every caress made her squirm and moan, and her hands grabbed his flesh, kneading like a cat in rhythm with her spasms. She didn’t resist when he one by one undid the buttons of his old shirt and revealed her body. Siri felt the fabric pushed aside but she was well past playing coy, for she wanted to be touched and taken.



Choma slid a finger to her opening, circling it, hardly able to believe the amount of wetness pouring out of her. She cried out and bucked impatiently onto the finger but he pulled back, playing with her. Her desire was volatile and aggressive and in a burst of anger she yelled at him until her rage broke into a plea. She was tense, her body resting on her shoulders and butt, her back rigid.



He didn’t have the heart to torment her any longer and he slid his finger inside her. She wailed loudly, and her sensual mouth curved into a blissful smile. The tight hole sucked on his digit and he dived slowly deeper. She urged him on, deeper and faster and as he put in more fingers, her pussy clamped on him, welcoming the touch.



He wanted to bury himself into that wetness but watching her was too interesting to stop. She lifted her ass in the air and fucked back, impaling herself harshly on his fingers. He fucked her harder yet she wanted more and more. He pressed her hips down and held her still. He tore into her pussy adamant to teach her not to ask for more than she could take.



His nail scratched her labia and the tiny amount of blood that smeared on her steaming vulva was enough for him to taste it in the back of his throat. To his surprise the crueller he was, the more she spread her thighs for him and her hands, previously flailing about, acquired new determination. She placed her delicate fingers on her slit and started masturbating. She hadn’t hidden her pleasure before but this was new for Choma – so much lust in one deceptively shy girl.



She twisted her leg between them and put her heel behind his bent elbow. She nudged his hand towards her, not letting him pull back from her cunt anymore, demanding him to get deeper and deeper. He’d stopped to his knuckles, when her pelvic opening resisted further advancement. Now she was kicking his hand deeper. When he pushed against the unyielding opening of bone her face cringed in pain but her heel on his elbow didn’t let up. “Make me feel alive. Make me scream. Please Choma, help me, I’m so hollow I can’t take it anymore.” She had to talk to him even if he didn’t understand.



She stopped rubbing herself and looked him in the eyes, “Make it hurt, please.” Her request, as earnest as it was, brought back memories he’d tried to forget. He didn’t want to do it, mix abuse and power games with sex because for him that way lay madness. However, to his chagrin, his willpower lasted but two whole minutes against the feel of her pulsing hole around his hand and the sight of the sweating wanton Siri. Growling at the horny girl he rammed his hand forwards, furiously attacking her vagina. Siri screamed and bucked when the punch hit the tissue surrounding her pelvic passage.



Choma ignored her distress. Fuck you bleating little princess, you asked for this. On his third try the fist plunged through, jutting out of her like a skewer. Howling, Siri pressed her thighs together squeezing his forearm between them. She curled into a ball, sobbing faintly. They were quiet for a long time during which Choma listened to her breathe in sharp gasps, trying not to amp up the pain. He was elated. He didn’t want to, but he’d loved to make her scream for him.



The blood circulation in his hand had stopped due to her tightness and his hand was going numb. Siri writhed trying to get used to the fist piercing her body. The hollowness and coldness was gone but she needed to feel safe now. She wanted him inside her, warm and strong. She wanted him to lay on top of her, cover her with his body and completely hide her from the world.



“I need you in me,” she sighed. “I have to have you inside me.” But how could she ask that of him. So many times in the past had she been turned down and now she really needed him and there was no safe alternative. Her coil had been due to replacement a year ago and no longer worked. Wincing she turned on her back and straightened her legs, his arm still sticking out of her cunt. She rose slightly and touched his fly. Choma was dumbfounded of her initiative, for her to ask more was the last thing he’d expected. She caressed his penis through the fabric and he grunted. He moved the hand inside her and Siri yelped but opened her legs for him. He had no patience for fisting any more though, and he pulled his hand agonizingly slowly out of her pink hole while she huffed and whimpered in pain.



She lay still, looking shy and vulnerable as he got up from the bed and removed his clothes. A small flicker of fear passed in her eyes when she saw his large cock, fully erect and demanding. He got on top of her, pinning down her shivering body. “Shh,” he whispered to her but she flinched as his penis poked her crotch. “Choma,” she said in distress, “Choma, Choma, Choma,” she repeated quickly and shoved him off her. When her hands were free she lifted them to her chest mimicking cradling a baby. Choma cursed furiously, don’t play with me princess, not now.



Siri turned timidly on her side and reached to stroke his cock. She ran her fingers along his shaft and continued to run them on her skin until they reached the cleft between her buttocks. “You could… here,” she mumbled shyly, not daring to look at him in the eye. It was so dirty and he was larger than she was usually willing to take in her ass. Yet it couldn’t be helped now — she wanted him too much. It took a while for Choma to understand her meaning and those moments out on a limb burned her. Please don’t hate me, please.



Choma had only once done what she was asking and have this innocent eyed girl shyly propose it drove him wild. He remembered Her and how she’d screamed when he ripped her apart. Roughly he rolled Siri on her stomach and lifted her ass up a little. “Choma,” she cried, her voice fearful, and reached for a bottle of hand cream. “Use this,” she whispered and settled back down, her body tight as a bow string. She jolted to the sound of the tube’s cap flicking open and waited for his hands to spread her plump cheeks. “Slow,” she repeated in five languages including Ukraine while Choma was lubing up. Her attempts to communicate were endearing but they couldn’t reach the savage beast taking over Choma’s mind. She felt small, lost and afraid and she needed him. Please Choma, she thought, make me safe. The entry would hurt even if he would be gentle, but after that, she knew, it would all be pure bliss.



She lay beneath him, prone, legs apart and reached her hands to spread herself for him. Her buttocks quivered just like in his fantasies. As the tip of his cock touched her asshole she flinched and immediately apologized for it. Her eagerness to get his cock to fulfil her most secret place was incredible. She whimpered when he started to push and the resistance of her little hole surprised him – he would need to push hard to get her gate to yield.



When he pushed harder she started pulling back. “Slow,” she yelped but he wanted in. He slid his hands just above her shoulders so she couldn’t move away from him and applied strong steady pressure. He felt the center give way and painfully slowly open wider. He kept on the same strong pressure and the girl started bucking and shouting. She reached for him with her hands and tried to push him off but he was stronger. He pushed on and stretched her ass despite her shrieking. It felt so good to have something that private of hers to succumb to him.



The head of his cock plopped inside and Siri wailed, “Out! Out! Take it out!” She rolled over to her side and lay twitching and mewing with his cock inside her. Her hands were against his hips but it did no good to push him anywhere anymore, he was in. He wanted to stroke her hair and comfort her but on the other hand it turned him on to see her cower under him in pain.



Impatient to be completely buried inside her sweet body, he wanted to lunge inside her, to conquer her hidden depths and impale her on him. He’d finally own the lovely creature fallen into his life and all the strangeness of whys would be gone. Relishing in her grunts Choma pushed his thick shaft deeper into her young ass. First it resisted his intrusion but slowly her walls expanded and her colon gave way to the head of his cock and opened up. Siri grimaced but forced herself to relax her back passage for him. Her sphincter hurt badly but deeper his advances felt pleasant and she turned back onto her stomach. With big strong hands Choma grabbed her and obediently she rose her hips to meet his.



Siri gasped as Choma buried himself deeper with short strokes. It burned, him stretching her with every penetration, but Siri wanted him as deep inside her abused little fuck hole as he could manage. Finally he leaned into her so he could feed her his whole length and, enjoying the alien fullness inside her, Siri fucked back and endured the stomach cramps that resulted when Choma’s cock hit bottom. The pain was so beautiful and cured all aches and itches she’d harboured since waking up in his house.



Choma began working rhythmically, plowing in and out. Hot lines of pleasure flickered across his mind as the walls of Siri’s ass were dragging at him, sucking the cum from his balls. After all those days of frustration he couldn’t hold out for long and soon spewed his seed inside the slightly disappointed girl. She wanted to flop back on the mattress in her lovely warm fugue but felt too dirty to lay back and enjoy. She wrapped her towel carefully around her and walked barefoot to the stream where Choma had erected an old barn door for her privacy. On a little stool waited the basin which she filled up with the crisp cold water and poured and splashed on herself. She liked bathing outside, resting her eyes on the scenery as the water refreshed her but the plunge was never as easy for her as it was for Choma, who was used to washing in cold water.



***



Siri had been quiet since she got back in the house. She’d said nothing while they had breakfast and quickly turned her head away if their eyes met. Her embarrassment saddened Choma for there was no need for it. He used every chance and excuse to touch her and Siri accepted his clumsy displays of affection with nervous smiles but hardly looked up at him. Her ass had a comfortable ache reminding her how he’d gently but firmly broken through her confused resistance and pumped her full of the liquid that warmed her to the core. Yet she’d never gotten over the stamp of dirtiness sodomy carried and owning up to liking it came hard. The day passed slowly for both of them but come evening the competence Choma radiated had calmed her and when he touched her she reciprocated.



That night he took her to his bed. She felt like a sacrificial animal as Choma purposefully led her upstairs in complete silence. He walked her past the smaller bedroom and into his own to stand in front of him. She was absolutely still, waiting for his lead, but careful not to in any way express unwillingness. Without a word Choma stripped her garment by garment, slowly tracing his nose on her bare skin savouring her softness and scent. He reached behind her and slid the elastic band off her braid. He carefully combed out her hair with his fingers until it tumbled down over her shoulders. The tips of the wavy strands touched Siri’s hardened nipples tickling her.



Choma couldn’t believe the nymph in his bedroom was real. She fidgeted and moved her arms to cover her breasts and crotch. The sudden change in their relationship, how ever welcome, scared her and it made her look so fragile Choma could hardly bring himself to touch her.



Her eyes were shut tight but she opened them when he took her face in his hands. How could she look so innocent and scared when it wasn’t twelve hours past she had groaned with his cock up her ass. She let him walk her to the bed and obediently lay down as he tucked her in. Standing at the foot of the bed he took off his own clothes while she watched.



Siri loved to close her eyes and surrender to him. Being powerless intoxicated her and with his coaxing her juices quickened. She wanted to shout at him to touch her or grab at his hands and put them on her flesh but it was exciting to give him all the control.



When his fingers stroked her awaiting pussy her body jolted and she gasped sharply. She moaned when he parted her lips and slid his fingers inside. The pocket was full of slick juice and Choma shivered — all that was for him.



Siri didn’t know what she had expected but when Choma rolled her on her stomach and lined his cock with her puckered little anus she let out a sharp cry, “No! Not there, it’s too soon, I’m hurting! No, please, no!” Choma didn’t’ care, he poured some of the hand cream on her and started pushing in as she squirmed in his grip and screamed.



Her sphincter resisted less than earlier and his cock lunged into the warm passage. He fucked her as he pleased in search for another orgasm and let her pleas and tears lift him into the bliss of coming ecstasy. After he came and pulled out, her tiny hole retracted and kept all of his thick cum inside, spilling nothing. “Good little angel, now let’s make you cum.” He turned her on her back and she didn’t resist when he opened her legs and rubbed a finger up and down the opening to her pussy.

Flicking her clit with his other hand Choma started pushing all five fingers inside her. Siri was quiet as she was still recovering from the assrape. Feeling filthy she wished only to be set free to clean herself up.



“What the hell is this?” His fingers fumbled inside her.



“Ouch,” Siri humpfed as Choma tugged at the cords of her contraceptive coil. “Stop! Youre hurting me!” Siri cried but Choma had a grip on the strings and pulled. It felt like a knife inside her belly as the the sharp plastic T bent into a Y and scratched and dragged the linings of her womb.



“Why didn’t I notice this the first time I had my fist up your lying little cunt?” Siri cried out but Choma held her still. “What’s this, girl? What are you keeping inside?” Choma was enraged, he’d been played a fool. She was working for them and god knows what stash he’d just found. “They’re keeping track of you? Or are you supposed to poison me?”



She tried to get away from him but Choma held her fixed. She was terrified and couldn’t understand what had angered him so. Her cervix didn’t want to give way to the coil and resisted opening up. Siri fought back as Choma tried to force the thing out. It had looked so tiny, no bigger than a postage stamp, when the gynaecologist had inserted it with a little straw all those years ago in the University clinic but now it felt anything but small. Yet her body was no match for brute force and the mouth of her cervix expanded to allow the coil inside the tight passage. The new pain gave Siri strength to amp up her resistance but it only earned her a hard smack from Choma and she almost passed out. Almost.



She lay dazed and wailing as the bloody plastic object was torn from her body without doctor’s skills, tools or pain relief. “What the fuck is this?” Choma yelled at her brandishing her coil and Siri had no idea why he was mad at her. Too much in pain to mimic cradling like last time this issue was on the table, Siri started singing the first lullaby that came into her swooning head. Choma stared at her obviously disgusted and stormed out of the room leaving her to bleed on the white cotton sheets.



***



Fuck, Choma thought, fuck, fuck, fuck. He had taken the little object into his workshop and studied it and finally smashed it into pieces. Certainly it was nothing dangerous and he had an ominous feeling that it was a contraceptive of some kind. Fuck. He’d hit the girl hard and was too ashamed now to go and see her.



Slowly he ascended the stairs and opened the door to the master bedroom. Siri was huddling under the duvet staring out the window with glassy eyes, humming the same song she had tried to convince him with. The mattress under her was badly stained with blood. When he came in she didn’t react. He sat on the bed and put the smashed coil on the nightstand clearing his throat. “I’m sorry little angel, I’m so sorry. I thought you were…” I thought you were what, a spy, an MP. “I’m sorry,” he said again and left the room.



Siri slept in the next day. Choma took meals and water to her but she hardly reacted to him. Fuck, did I spoil the whole god damned thing now? When ever he tried to touch her she recoiled as if waiting to be hit again. Jesus Christ, if I only could explain what happened, he cursed as if an explanation would guarantee forgiveness.



On the third night Choma got sick of her aloofness and started kissing and caressing her in the bed. She didn’t react in any way but let him fondle and make love to her. After she was oozing his semen from her rectum she simply turned to face the window again and went to sleep.



Next morning she wasn’t as icy anymore though, and during the day her behaviour warmed up to something closer to normal. In a few days they were almost where they had been before the incident. Still, there was no erasing it, and for Siri everything was different now she knew what rage lived inside him, and what she could invoke without even doing anything wrong. It had been a shock to get struck but the rest of it, now in hindsight, had actually been pretty thrilling. All that pain and being afraid of the one person she had trusted her wellbeing to.



Chapter nine



She was always fucking back, trying to get him even deeper. He rammed her hard but she never got enough. Broom handles, rough sticks, tools from his workshop, cold, hard, bulgy — she let him do anything. When he approached her during the day she turned her eyes down and blushed but when he grabbed her and tore her clothes off his finger always found her little snatch wet. She was embarrassed of herself but when he got her under him, trembling and confused, and started touching her, she soon lost control of herself and changed into the starving little creature that wanted nothing more than him inside her every hole. He’d fucked her face until she puked up bits of the summer’s first strawberries he’d so lovingly fed to her, and when she had caught her breath she’d pulled him back into her mouth.



Choma had no idea how far he could go before he would lose himself. At first he was uncomfortable to hurt Siri, seeing Her under him instead, but it didn’t take long for his passion to overrule any uneasy conscience. Siri was so intense she soon inhabited every part of his thoughts and drove ghosts away. After a good scare he soothed her and massaged her clit tenderly, making her feel safe and warm again. She was his to use and his to love and she was such a good girl.



Now he had her on all fours on the living room table. In a small bowl he had green baby tomatoes he was going to stuff inside her. She had obeyed him without question and her pussy eagerly slickening.



Her crotch was exposed to him and she waited quivering in anticipation what was to come. When the first tomato touched her rear entrance she squirmed and tried to turn around. She could tell it was not flesh against her skin. Choma put a hand on her head. “It’s ok angel.” He stroked Siri’s hair and she settled down. It made her nervous not to know what he was about to force in her tiny hole.



Choma stroked the raw vergetable over her bud and she tensed up each time. To her its surface felt like plastic. She felt his thumb rubbing spit on her and hoped the thing wasn’t anything too big, for after the first times Choma used no lube but his own spit. He liked it that way, intimate. If he was feeling generous he might scoop some of her juices to smear on her little backhole before going at it, but most of all, he liked to make Siri squirm under him and cry out when her tender flesh was stretched and torn. It was beautifully obscene to fuck her ass but it was driving him crazy and even angry not to know what her pulsing pussy would feel like gripping his cock. He could smell her heat and it was driving him mad to bathe his fingers in her but not being allowed a real fuck.



He didn’t open her up with a finger and just pushed the first tomato until it popped through. Siri yelped in surprise and tried to turn to look back again. “No baby, eyes closed, that’s it.” He took another one, sucked it wet and let it push the one before it deeper. She was visibly uncomfortable not knowing what was in her and by the third in some pain. Still, he inserted one more as she squirmed and whined. “Feeling full?” Siri didn’t answer and he asked a question he knew she understood. “Like it?” She still didn’t answer.



When his fingers touched her pussy she whinnied in surprise. “Let’s see how full you are.” With intentional roughness he shoved his fingers in her cunt and she moaned wantonly. Her vagina was welling with her excretions. “Good girl, you did like it.” She wanted to beg him to enter her cunt, the stretching his fingers caused was such teasing, but she didn’t want to live waiting in fear if her next period would ever come. He massaged the tomatoes through the thin membrane and she jerked from the slight stab of pain. “Easy girl, you’re not that full. Yet.”



Siri heard him open his fly and realized he was going to fuck her ass despite what was already in. She started pleading but Choma grabbed her waist and pulled her ass to him. “Spread it,” he ordered, but had to nudge with his knee before the girl understood what was expected of her. When he pushed the head in, giving her no time to adjust, she screamed as the tomatoes travelled deeper up her colon. Her moans grew in shrillness and intensity as the head of his cock pushed further and he started feeding her his shaft. She felt the resistance of her colon opening up for the chain of spheres. Her innards burned and she wept but Choma still had inches to go and she knew he’d bury each one in her.



After opening her up Choma pulled out. Siri was in no state to resist as he pushed in a fifth tomato. He proceeded to fuck it in and had to use some force to get his whole length in her. When he was done he pulled out and added a sixth. Now Siri was howling and begging but she was too well trained to move from the position she’d been ordered to. “Good,” he said petting her hair, “good girl, now scream for daddy.” Siri moaned ruggedly, her hands clenching in pain. When he pushed the tomatoes deep with his cock she jolted and cried out. “That’s my sweet angel,” Choma mused.



Sweat beaded on her soft body as she tried to bear the pain she couldn’t stop or escape. He leaned down his cock still deep in her ass and whispered into her ear, “I love it how you let me hurt you.” She gasped when he pulled out and eased the strain of pressure on her insides. A seventh raw cherry tomato was pushed in her raw canal. “Do you think there’s still room for me?” Choma growled and rammed in. He started fucking her like a beast, trying hard to make it as painful for her as possible. Siri’s resolve failed and she started kicking and screaming, trying to escape. Choma had to take a tighter hold of her to be able to continue burrowing deeper.



A hand clamped on her mouth and Siri screamed into it, trying to tear it off to beg him to stop. She tried to stay him with her hands, to stop the brutal piston raping her, but her little arms were powerless to stop the crazed man. Unable to hold herself up longer Siri sank downwards to lay on the table to which Choma reacted by picking up her legs and fucking her in a wheelbarrow fashion.



She tried to tear free but his grip held and her fighting only made it necessary for him to be rougher. She put up a good fight, the pain driving her insane but there was nothing she could do against his brute strength.



Even though she ate nothing for the rest of the day she had terrible constipation and it took well to the next evening for her to poop out all seven tomatoes. She was lucky to get through her ordeal without a serious obstruction and a visit to a hospital. While writhing in pain and pushing out with her muscles she thought how much more cruel things Choma would come up with if she still would keep him out of her pussy.



Chapter ten



After the tomato episode Choma gave her a couple days to rest. However, after one by one getting each tomato out from her system Siri’s body soon started craving for more sex. He had made her feel so deliciously chastised and desired. The problem was, with only anal being possible, the need of prompt washing afterwards always took away the afterglow, the chance to just lie together, sweaty, out of breath and satisfied.



Denied a good fuck Siri teased Choma nonstop until on the evening of the third day Choma gripped her arm and marched the smug girl upstairs. He knew just what to do to wipe the grin from her face.



Siri laughed when Choma tore off her clothes and giggled when he threw her on the bed but when the head of Choma’s cock prodded her pussy lips she shouted, “No Choma stop, it’s going the wrong way!” and dodged his penis. Choma tried again to rest the tip on the entrance to her pussy. Siri reached down to guide him to her naughty hole but Choma snatched her hand and returned it above her head.



“Tsk, tsk, tsk. Easy girl,” he said shaking his head.



“No, Choma, no,” she growled as he kept trying to enter her. “You know you can’t put it in there!”



She struggled him fiercely for ten minutes. Choma was breathing heavy, getting pissed at her obstinacy. “Calm down!” he shouted and forcefully spread her body open under him. Siri realized she’d never win the fight and moved on to begging, her rage evaporating to let fear in. Choma didn’t care, couldn’t care. He had to be in her. Finally. He could almost feel her soft warm folds around him. If she got pregnant then so be it but he had to have her now, truly have her, not just her ass.



“Shut up baby. You love my cock, I know you do. Now let me in. I’ll make you feel good. I’ll pump you full with my seed and you’ll thank me for it.” Choma pushed himself in and she wailed a no that extended into a shrill panicked cry until her voice broke and she slumped down. Tears streamed from her eyes as she lay limp and let him rape her.



Nothing they’d done before compared to the intimacy of being inside her pussy, not the eager little ass she offered to him so willingly, not her soft wet mouth. There was no better way to make a woman understand her situation than to spear her between her milky thighs and rape what was inside. He wanted to show her his strength: enough to take her, enough to protect her from anyone else trying to use her.



She wasn’t wet but damp like a bed of moss and for every one of his thrusts she gave an angry grunt and kicked the air behind him with her feet. Slowly from deep inside her some wetness emerged to ease his movements but it gave her no solace as he stuttered to her all the sensations her pussy offered him. Her infrequent outbursts of rage made her pussy twitch heightening Choma’s arousal.



Her façade wasn’t long lived. There was no denying the pleasure his cock in her neglected cunt gave her and gradually her grunts and moans got an added tone. First it was annoyance but soon it was clear she was enjoying his rough thrusts despite not wanting to. She wept at the thought of pregnancy yet bucked against him in need to have him deeper inside her. “Put a baby in me you bastard and I swear I’ll dump the squalling little monster on you and lea—.” Her last word died in a wanton cry or pleasure and she grabbed his shoulders and slammed her hips towards the invading cock.



Choma moved his hands on her throat, he didn’t want to hear any more of her venom. He wrapped his fingers around her throat and she closed her mouth, understanding the threat. Siri was so beautiful, her face confused, lewd, angry and frightened all at the same time, contorted into expressions of lust and hunger. She kept her eyes closed, which bothered Choma, to make it real he had to have her look at him. He wanted to hold her gaze as he plunged inside and took her. He wanted her to see it was him spreading her pussy with a thick cock, him making her moan and spasm.



“I know you’re scared,” he spoke to her gently caressing the side of her head, “but you’re safe here, you’re safe with me, nothing bad will reach you here. You’re mine and I protect what’s mine.” He watched her face keenly and saw a single tear run down her soft rosy cheek. He wiped it away and in answer she lifted her legs and locked her ankles around his back. Her hands grabbed his upper arms.



“Choma,” she whispered, squeezing his flesh when jolts of pleasure rocked her body. Her head was arched back and her mouth open. Loud, unrestrained moans flowed from her red swollen lips. The grip of her legs around him tightened and she pulled him to her.



“Look at me, angel,” Choma coaxed, “look at me.” Siri grabbed the hair in his neck and pulled his face down to kiss her. As their lips met she opened her eyes and held his gaze as he continued his relentless pounding.



“Fuck me,” she hissed in his ear, “I love it when you force me.”



Her confession sent bolts of pleasure soaring to his brain and he could feel the cum boiling in his balls. After a few desperate lunges he couldn’t hold back any more and humped uncontrollably until his cock started spewing out semen, filling her tiny vagina with hot white cum. Not stopping to breathe yet, he used her body to milk himself, burying all he had in his balls inside her. When finally done, Choma rolled over to lay on his back on the bed, head swimming with sensations.



Pussy welling with his seed she got up. Choma was too delirious to bother to stop her when she staggered outside, cum running down her thighs. He heard her retch on the landing outside. She could feel the semen working its way to her womb and she had no way to kill it. She didn’t want a baby, a leash, a noose around her neck. Pleasepleaseplease, she prayed as she sat in the stream trying to get water inside herself and wash out all he’d put in.



Choma stirred when Siri didn’t come back. He found her, wrapped in a quilt, hugging her knees on one of the armchairs in the living room. He unclutched her hold on the blanket and when he pulled it aside he saw nothing running from her opening, nothing smeared on her thighs. “Who said you could wash?” he growled, angry that she had so carelessly washed his mark away.



His finger travelled to play with her labia. She jolted and tried to turn away but with his other hand he held her still. It’s ok Siri, I’ll take you to a doctor tomorrow, he thought but said nothing to alleviate her angst. She moaned in derision as he went on fingering her. His fingers squeezed the clit their fucking had left sensitive. She tried to get off the chair but he pushed her back. “Be still, I don’t want to make you but I will if you resist.” She sat back down, but her body didn’t relax, she was tense and uncomfortable as he fucked her with his fingers.



He pulled her by her legs to the edge of the seat. “You’re dry again angel, that won’t do. Spread your legs.” She didn’t understand anything he said, but it didn’t matter. He arranged her body as he wished and lifted her legs on his shoulders. Her sex was splayed in front of him.



He fingered her until she was glistening wet. He spread the wetness around and begun rubbing her swollen clit. The sensations coursing along her nerves overwhelmed her, and smiling blissfully she twitched under his touches. Siri felt the heavy tension of an orgasm building and it caused her whole body to seize until a whirlwind climax tore through her and she screamed and heaved as Choma went on rubbing her oversensitive nub.



He wanted to have her again and make it right this time. His semi hard cock was barely stiff enough to get it in her but Choma helped it with his hand. Inside the newly orgasmed cunt it soon gorged itself back to full erection. Siri was limp and groggy and easy to maneuver to lean over the couch. Choma slipped his cock back inside and petted her tousled hair. “Perhaps I won’t take you to the doctor after all. Perhaps I’ll fuck you every day until I get you pregnant. I’ll watch you waddle with your big belly and bend you over to rape you again and again. When the baby comes I’ll watch you scream as it tears through your cunt. Maybe I’ll fuck you in the ass while you’re in labour, would you like that angel?” He knew she didn’t understand and better that way for he didn’t mean her to, but the thought made him harder and accelerated his second orgasm. It was painful, trying to cum again so soon, but he wanted to mark her, have her smeared with his semen. He grabbed her hair and spoke into her ear, ” I’m leaving everything I’ve got buried as deep inside you as I can go, and this time you’ll keep it all in, angel.”



His milk spurted and he kept stroking in and out, coating her cunt until he was too limp to get in anymore. “Good girl,” he huffed and walked the meek girl by the hand back to the master bedroom. The jizz leaking out from her pussy made slick sounds the whole way as she tried to squeeze her legs together to keep it from dripping on the floor.

On the bed there was still one thing Choma wanted to do. He nudged her thighs and obediently Siri spread her legs for him. She groaned as Choma’s fingers entered her but stayed still when he told her to. “I want it everywhere angel,” he whispered as his fingers slid back and forth, rubbing and poking at her cervix. “It’ll work inside you all night.” Silent tears ran down Siri’s face when Choma closed her in his arms for the night.



***



For once Siri woke before Choma. She slipped from the bed and walked to the stream. She waded in, sat on the sand bottom and opened her legs to the cleansing stream. She had barely sat down as she saw Choma walking down from the house. He removed his towel and got in with her, sitting just behind her to hold her in his arms.



“Dobrogo ranku,” good morning, he rasped playing with her breasts.



The fear of pregnancy was still a knife in her gut but Choma’s playful good mood swept her with it and she giggled as a hand travelled down her stomach to stroke her slit. “We have somewhere to go and I want you clean for my friend.”



It was the second time Choma took her with him to the Pidmanove village. They passed Oleg’s cannery and stopped in front of an office. Inside she found a doctor’s waiting room and Choma touched her stomach and whispered, “I promised you were safe with me.” While filling up the paperwork Siri shivered thinking how much of the past days activities the doctor could see as marks on her body.



Dr Savchuk had heard of Choma taking in the wandering girl, but the thought of them having a sexual relationship was disturbing. Frankly he had thought Choma to have more sense. When the girl walked in his office he couldn’t help noticing that she was very tense. He wondered if she was merely nervous to see him or if there was something wrong with her situation. After shaking hands he led her to sit down.



“So, Miss Lavonen, how can I help you?” he started and Siri bristled to hear her own name — she’d almost convinced herself that Enni never existed. A well educated man, the doctor spoke excellent English, but it did little to ease bringing up the topic.



“I need,” she took a long pause staring at her hands until she got mad at herself for acting a child and looked the doctor straight in the eye almost defiantly, “I need contraception.” It was the doctors turn to pause.



“Listen, Miss, Choma Danylovych is an old friend. I’d hate to see him used ill. I can’t say I understand the situation that well, but what ever your plans are, I hope you’ve made them clear to him.”



“You presume too much Doctor. Besides how do I make anything clear to someone who doesn’t understand what I say?”



“He understands more than you think. Just talk to him.” Savchuk spread his hands, “Well, I take it you’ve been in this situation before. What was your previous method of birth control?”



“I’ve had a contraceptive coil, if possible I’d want one such now. I don’t want pills, too many side-effects.”



“I see. Hmm, I don’t keep an extensive stock of supplies, especially this sort. But as one of my patients recently changed her mind about having a third child I have one here now. You have children, Miss Lavonen?” The question and his tone were equally condescending.



“No, I don’t. My doctor was of the opinion it wasn’t a requirement for trying to fit in a coil,” she answered more snappish than was necessary, for a doctor with such an opinion had not been easy to find.



“It would certainly make it easier. Was the insertion painful?”



“Of course it was,” se huffed, “but not unbearable.”



Savchuk asked her further about her menstruating and health in general. He was a genial man but nonetheless Siri only wanted the visit over with and answered him tersely.



“You see Miss Lavonen, I don’t know what kind of a coil you had or the size of it. The one I have isn’t such a modern item as doctors in your home country have access to. Present-day coils are considerably smaller than what coils used to be and what we still use. In Ukraine putting a coil for someone that hasn’t given birth is quite unheard of. A bigger problem than my professional opinion is that I don’t have any equipment. The nearest sonographic machine is in Shatsk. Without one the insertion gets considerably more complicated, not to mention painful, especially with your birth canal.” Siri’s expression changed from hopeful to fearful. “Think carefully, there are other options and I can explain the situation to Mr Vasylenko for you if you so wish. Are you sure another coil is what you want?”



“Yes,” she said uncertainly, “I am. But please Dr Savchuk I assume patient records are confidential in Ukraine as well, but can you please tell me he’s healthy. As we—I don’t want to get—” she turned to look away, “I don’t want to get ill.”



“I’m sorry, but that you must ask from Mr Vasylenko himself. I can’t tell you what to do, but I’m here to give advice. To my knowledge you’ve known each other less than a month and to me this kind of a decision seems very hasty. You could take time to consider your options and come back if you decide you want the coil.”



She was intimidated by everything he’d said but the need to have Choma inside her was stronger than fear of pain. “I thank you for your concern, but I’d like it done now.”



“For the last time, I want to remind you, this will be extremely painful. Are you sure you want this?”



Her back was rigid with fear but she nodded. Lying on a gynaecologists table all exposed was enough to nauseate her at any time but under these circumstances it was so much more humiliating. What the doctor must think of me, she rued.



“I suggest you ask Choma in. I’ll need his help to restrain you and you’ll need all the support you can get. I can’t say I wholly approve his allowing you to go through with this.”



He called Choma in and gave him a shortened version of their conversation in Ukrainian. From his sharp tone Siri assumed he also gave him his opinion on putting coils in girls that haven’t given birth, generally irresponsible sexual behaviour and mostly of reckless decisions made by grown men while blinded by lust.



She had to get naked from the waist down and though Choma had seen her naked dozens of times his presence only made the situation more humiliating. The Doctor attached stirrups to his examination table and both men turned their heads discreetly as she walked to the table and lay down on it. The doctor guided her feet to the stirrups and had her inch down until her hips were just on the edge of the table. It was an instinct to cover herself, and she had unknowingly brought her thighs together and the doctor had to part them for her. Choma was standing right behind her head and she felt his eyes on her. It was horrible to have him see another man touching her.



“Are you comfortable Miss?” asked Dr Savchuk.



A god damned stupid question, thought Siri but nodded stiffly.



“Good. Don’t be alarmed, I’ll put a restrainer belt around your waist. As I proceed with the insertion your body might reflexively convulse and with my tweezers inside you there’s a risk you’ll stab yourself on them and be injured.”



Siri’s skin crawled as she was strapped down but his reasoning was indisputable. Still, the sound of the buckle closing made her twitch and Choma squeezed her shoulders like saying, “It’s ok.”



She tried to convince herself she was safe, Choma was with her and Mr Savchuk was a doctor but her helplessness didn’t allow her terror to abate. She saw a strange room in a strange country with two strange men looming over her restrained naked body. She wanted to scream for them to let her go, but forced down the impending panic. She made herself remember why she was here. She sought out Choma’s hand and when he squeezed her fingers reassuringly she remembered what it was like to have him inside her and filled her head with his weight on top of her.



“Now Miss Lavonen, I’ll begin.”



She hadn’t heard the snap of latex and realized he was going to put his hand inside her naked. It was an unpleasant thought not to have the clinical glove as a barrier between a doctor and a patient, making the touch as asexual as possible, but facilities and practices in rural Ukraine were not up to those in Finland.



She had tensed up and her whole body jolted as the doctor’s finger prodded for her opening. Choma shushed her stroking her hair.



“It’s ok,” said the Doctor, “I’m just making the preliminary examination. I’ll warn you when I start inserting the coil.”



When he peeled open her labia to insert his fingers in her vagina he saw abrasions on her mucosae and bruising around her opening. He frowned and instinctively glanced at the man standing by the woman’s head, feeling very uncomfortable. He regretted having Choma present for he felt like he should ask the girl about her hurts.



He inserted his fingers deep inside the woman and examined her thoroughly. Not finding anything abnormal, he inserted the specula, gave the patient the heads up and picked up the coil in his tweezers. She was brave and started moaning only when he started poking around the bottom of her vaginal cavity in search of her cervix. He could view his goal in the opening of the specula, but when he started to insert the coil his hand obstructed all vision. Savchuk tried for several minutes ignoring her distress until the first traces of blood appeared on the tweezers.



“Miss, how are you feeling? There’s some bleeding. Do you wish to stop this?”



“Do it,” was all Siri could manage.



Savchuk grimaced but tried again. His patient cried out in pain regularly as he pushed the coil in her tender flesh. He didn’t want to fail in the attempt after what she had already gone through and kept pushing the tweezers deeper waiting to hit her cervix.



After several more minutes the Doctor sighed and pulled out. “I can’t afford to poke you blind anymore,” he said in an I-told-you-so tone. “You’re bleeding too much. This might feel uncomfortable but I will insert my fingers in your rectum and guide the tweezers from there. Try to relax, I’m sure this will be over soon.”



It was degrading but Siri was too hurt to contradict, all she wanted was for the pain to stop. She breathed in sharp gasps where Choma’s breaths were heavy, almost rasping. He was obviously agitated. Dr Savchuk’s finger prodded her anus and again against her conscious efforts her body tried to escape the invasion but the belt kept her still. All she had to experience was made more horrible by the knowledge that if it was a fantasy she’d be wet and masturbating. The irrational fear of the doctor somehow sensing her sexual thoughts made her grasp at any other thought in her mind.



She drifted to another doctor’s office, in another country, in a mental ward of a hospital and a succeeding six weeks during which the mad world outside the sanitarium grounds hadn’t grown any less greedy or tragic. But here it was different, here she didn’t have to think about any of it, here was Choma and when he fucked her that world, in which everything was her problem, didn’t exist. All this pain had a purpose.



The Doctor’s finger weaselled in, pulled back and returned as two. Her well used back door didn’t resist much and she was ashamed for the doctor would guess why. The fingers moved around and she groaned in shame and discomfort. Choma’s hands were rigid on her shoulders, his fingers dug into the thin layer of flesh on her bones. He’d stopped talking to her and just breathed loudly. The Doctor’s fingers touched the pincers through the thin membrane separating her anal and vaginal cavities. The movement of the pincers got more deliberate and soon the pain of random stabs to her bloody insides changed into the agony of cutting her flesh as Dr Savchuck found her cervix and started pushing the new coil through the closed canal into the small pouch of her womb. She cramped and thrashed and the belt bit into the soft flesh of her belly.



Holding her down while another man made her scream dimmed Choma’s reason and his cock swelled. Like all the amends he’d tried to make suddenly came to nothing. He could see blood on the doctor’s fingers and wished he’d make her scream out loud again. The blood took him back at the unit and her struggle against the strap made him wild. His mind wandered and he saw Yevhen fucking her while he gagged her with his cock and a third man inserting torture implements in her defenceless rectum. Since the doctor was present he pulled himself together. He talked softly into her ear, but what he really wanted to say was how hard her pain distorted face was making him, how he wanted to fuck her bloody pussy and lick tears from her reddened face, how he wanted to force things into her ass — bigger and bigger — and see her body squirm in agony. Then he’d feed her his cock all the way down her throat and make her gag on it.



Innumerable horrible things had happened under soviet rule. He was one of them, in detention center Volkov 27. What ever they did to the arrested men was nothing compared to what was done for their wives and grown daughters. Choma had seen women raped until they lost their minds. The guards had been kept in training until the atrocities they witnessed moved them no longer, until they believed it was necessary and justified for the greater cause, for the good of all the Soviet Union. He loathed himself for letting their brainwashing get to him and even more for enjoying his power over the captives and relishing in the cruelty. Those three years were enough to deem his soul forever to hell.



He’d stood guard as the wolves raped the women until they were too traumatized to speak. Then they’d cut them or use the special built machines to begin again their screams and terror. Beatings, injections, enemas, electric shocks and fire — anything, until the torturers achieved complete breakdown, body and soul. The ‘interrogations’ were recorded and the tapes played for the victims’ husbands and fathers, the screams ringing in their cells until the men said and signed whatever the Commander wanted them to. Wolves, Volkov was full of them.



One night a daughter of a captive, stripped, fondled and insane with fear, pleaded to Choma’s better nature to help her. She was scared witless though all the officers so far had done was to threaten her. What he’d done to that young woman never left him alone after that night. The MPs locked him up in isolation for three days and those hours in the dark were a wake up call, the revelation that made him see what kind of a man he’d made of himself. When they let him out there was no investigation, no disciplinary actions. Everywhere he was greeted with smirks and pats in the back and it made him sick. By deserting with Volkov’s politically sensitive personnel files he’d in one action written his own death sentence and bought a chance for a different life.



Choma couldn’t believe he’d done a thing like that. That man was a stranger yet it was him. All these years he’d kept him buried but this girl had prodded his demons awake and now this. He cursed himself for ever entering Yevhen’s office.



The rest of the visit was a haze for Siri. She came to in the car when the doctor gave his last instructions through an open window. “I know the bleeding looks bad but it should slow down in a few hours. If it doesn’t you should come back here. And this is clear without saying, but with all your haste I’ll say it anyway: no intercourse for at least three days. You need time to heal.”



Though Choma drove carefully, the ride with all the bumps in the road was agony. Every jump made her feel the alien object inside her, poking at her belly. At the homestead Choma watched her laboured walking. She’d groaned and mewed stepping out of the car and her face cringed so enticingly as she made her way to the door. He tried to find his calm. He tried to find the state of mind in which the girl was fragile, a thing to be protected. Instead his head filled with interrogation rooms and his bloody cock coming out of her gaping hole. His blood rushed to his cock, swelling it until it was so engorged the stretching of his skin ached. He knew that if he got inside her his cock would be a stabbing knife where the piece of metal in her womb would bite her.



Chapter eleven



In the end reason won, backed by the fact that a second visit to Yevhen’s clinic would rise the good Doctor’s suspicions. Three days was a long time to keep away from Siri and to pass the time he often left the house to deliver fixed machines back to their owners. He always explained where he was going but Siri hardly understood more than when he’d be back.



It was a warm day and Siri put on the sundress she’d brought with her and went behind the workshop to pick strawberries. She had two crates full when she heard a car approaching. It wasn’t even noon yet so Choma was early. With a giddy feeling Siri ran to welcome him home. It’s the third day today, perhaps we can… But the car wasn’t his or Larisa’s. It was another banged up truck but there were three strange men in it. She didn’t like it and backed slowly towards the door.



The men stepped out of the car and all greeted her politely. They smiled at her apprehensive stance at the doorstep and joked among themselves. They walked closer and the driver, Rustam, asked her where Choma was, “I thought he was expecting us.” The girl, he could see, was already nervous and obviously didn’t understand.



Searching for words Siri tried to say in Russian that if they wanted Choma he wasn’t there. “Here soon,” she lied.



Their presence made her feel unsafe. The driver motioned the two to stay put and approached her. She knew she was probably being ridiculous but instinctively she opened the door and stood just inside it, ready to slam it shut. “No Choma now,” she said to the driver in poor Ukrainian and loathed herself for the obvious fear in her voice.



Rustam laughed and lifted his hands up, “Easy, easy,” he said keeping his hands in front of him and inched closer. “I just want to talk to you.” She didn’t like his tone or the leers on the others’ faces. She stepped back and slammed the door shut but the fumbling with the old fashioned lock was too slow and she didn’t have time to turn the clumsy key before the man yanked the door open and her tight grip on the handle had her fall in his feet.



Rustam smiled wickedly and offered Siri his hand. “All we want is a little hospitality. The whole village knows you’re his whore.” Siri aimed a kick at his thigh but failed to get him out of the door.



“Kost, Drijka, move!” Rustam barked in a steely voice. “She’s putting up a fight.” He lifted her head from the hair and snarled at her, their faces almost touching, “I’m gonna have me some of what he’s been getting. Don’t worry, it’s just as easy to spread your legs for us as for him.” Kostyantin and Andrij grabbed her arms and hauled her up. “Where you come from? Eh? Where you come from?” He looked at his friends and laughed. “The bitch doesn’t understand a thing. Man, Choma has a good thing going, a tight little pussy eager to bend over and none of the nagging.” He leaned close again “If it’s cock you want you could’ve found younger meat. Don’t worry, we’ll give you a ride you won’t forget.”



Siri moaned and her body started heaving with sobs. “That’s a good little whore. That much you understand,” he said and squeezed her crotch through her clothes. Siri, hanging from Kostyantin’s and Andrij’s grip, screamed and kicked with her feet. “That’s it bitch, I tried to be nice. Take her through there, let’s get that dress off.”



Siri cried at the top of her voice. She called for Choma hoping against hope that it could bring him to her. The men let her scream, Choma didn’t have neighbours for miles and miles as far as she knew. “No!” she wailed as their hands started pulling at her dress. They laughed and mocked her with their harsh language. She tried to stop them but their six hands were all over her and they pulled the dress over her head.

She wanted to curl up to hide her body from them, but their hands kept her arms pulled wide and both Kostyantin and Andrij had a foot spreading her legs apart. Andrij had her hands pinned over her head and Kostyantin was cutting the straps of her bra with a knife. She heaved her body left and right, trying to pull free, but the men were strong.



“Fuck,” swore Kostyantin, “I cut her.”



“Don’t be a pussy, it’s just a nick,” spat Rustam. “I wanna see her boobs.” His hand travelled up her leg. “The old man must have his hands down your collar all the time, eh bitch? Does he let you wear clothes at all? I bet he’s a real dog.”



Siri was blinded with panick. She could think of nothing but their dirty hands on her. Andrij was licking her face and kissing her roughly. He stuck his tongue in her mouth and it tasted like vodka. Kostyantin mauled and kneaded her breasts sinking his fingers into her tender soft flesh. The third assault came from below where Rustam had knelt in front of her spread legs. He’d been massaging her sex through her panties, smelling the scent of her warm crotch. He’d taken the knife from Kostyantin and slid it slowly up from her ankle to her thigh. He slid it under the side seams and cut off her last piece of garment. Her cries of protestation went ignored as fingers travelled up her thigh towards her pussy lips.



“Fuck! Stay still cunt or I’ll stab you,” Rustam bellowed. “I don’t mind fucking your corpse as long as you’re still warm. Kost, smear some of that blood on her face, see if she understands.” When Kostyantin lifted his bloody hands in front of her face and Rustam pressed the edge of the knife on her slit, she froze.



Knowing she was going to lose the sovereignty of her own body for forever, defeatism overtook her. Her heart sank and she could see in her mind how they would bend her over and rape every hole she had in her body. “That’s better,” Rustam smirked as Kostyantin and Andrij turned to look down at his hands. Siri’s groans were shrill as the fingers slithered closer to her crotch.



Tears streamed on her cheeks. She wouldn’t be able to live with their touch on her. She’d never be able to wash them away or forget them on her. She wailed as her heart was breaking. Choma, they’ll take away everything.



The alertness of the sensory nerves on her labia sharpened into an unbearable tension as the fingers reached her slit. I can’t let him in. Rustam talked to her as if she was loving it. “Don’t cry baby, I know you’re wet inside. Don’t hide from me.” Her skin crawled and she cried out for Choma in tears.



Rustam parting her lips and the finger invading her vulva exploded Siri’s panic. In one roar she let out all her desperation, anger and fear. She kicked out and smashed her knee on Rustam’s grinning face. Simultaneously she heaved her body, yanking herself free from the two men pinning her to the wall, and the men – gawping at the howling Rustam – lost their grip on her.



“Get the bitch!” Rustam roared holding his broken nose, “I’ll kill her.” Almost toppling over in her panic haste she managed to lunge for the basement door. Yanking the key with her, she slammed the door shut on her tormentors. Her momentum threw her to tumble down the stairs. On the bottom she hit the shelves knocking down some boxes while upstairs the men cursed her and pounded on the door.



In a few minutes they frustrated with her and Siri heard the door bang and soon after a car driving away. She looked at the mess she’d made. Papers and files cluttered the floor. A little scared she picked one up. They were written in Russian, personnel files with pictures of soldiers. She couldn’t read the old-fashioned handwriting and started to stack them back to the box.



One of the faces was Choma’s, but so very young. The name was the same as in the dictionary he’d given her. It had belonged to a Vakhno Palahnyuk, but when she’d asked who it was Choma had said he was dead. Siri was confused, they could have been twins and yet a brother would surely have the same surname. She sat in the cellar until she heard the floor above her creak with steps. First she thought the men had come back, but the steps were slow rather than aggressive.



***



The books he’d left on the living room table were strewn on the floor among muddy footprints and one of the chairs had been thrust aside from its usual place. He saw Siri’s ripped dress thrown on the drawer and her underwear on the floor. “Siri,” he uttered and then called, “Siri?!” Retracing his steps he found more signs of struggle from the hallway, where a faint noise halted him. He shouted her name once more and stopped to listen, the sound came from beneath him. He raced to the back end of the hall but the basement door had no key. “Hold on!” He shouted and fetched the spare key from the kitchen.



When he got the door open she was calling his name in a pathetic little voice. He found her wrapped in his winter coat sitting on a rough wooden chest. Her hair was tousled and she had obviously been crying. She hid her face from him as he approached but didn’t stop repeating his name. When he stood next to her and put his arms around her she grabbed him like a drowning person and buried her face under his arm. “What happened?” he asked, so shocked at the state of her he almost asked her in English.



She was completely naked under the coat, her little tender nipples hard in the cold room. There were smears of rusty brown on her chest and a bloody crust on a cut beneath her left breast. “Jesus, you’re hurt.” He tried to get her to look at him but she refused. From somewhere in his shirt she whimpered in the smallest voice, “They touched me,” and the last word mingled into a mewing moan of anguish. An instant rage ripped through his whole being. Someone had been there and they had molested her. “What happened?” She answered him only with shrill keening. Her sense of dirtiness intensified with his touch. Her crotch burned her and she tore herself away from his grasp.



He lifted her into his arms wishing he could have done it more gracefully, but his old bones lacked the practise of Prince Charming. How did I ever get her here from the moor, he thought as his knee joints ached when he staggered up the basement chairs. He put her down on the sofa as he had the night he found her. She had lit up his grey existence and the rage of someone daring to defile her tore him so violently it was hard to concentrate on helping her. He’d find out who they were and he’d make them pay. The girl was shocked and unable to tell him what they had done. He feared the worst and saw her screaming and crying while those beasts held her down and raped her everywhere. “They’re dead men.”



Somehow he managed to get the girl upstairs. While he fetched a bowl of water and a cloth, she’d curled into a ball on the bed and he had to coax her to lie back. He could understand her sense of filthiness, he’d seen it often enough.



“Take this.”



She turned her head away, disgusted by the alcohol smell of the horilka. “I don’t drink.”



“You do now, it’s medicin.”



Reluctantly she swallowed the liquid that felt like gasoline in her throat, burning. Choma moist the cloth and started to wash her slowly, talking to her all the time. “I’ll lift your arm a little, it’s ok. I’ll rinse this. Shh. I’ll wash your shoulders next. It’s ok. It’s just water.” She relaxed and let him wipe the sharpest edge of violation from her skin.



“Open your legs baby, it’s safe. I’ll help you, I’ll take it all away. You can do it.” He nudged her thighs gently. “It’s just you and me here. Let me make it better.” She snivelled but parted her thighs obediently as he knew she would. “Good girl, I’ll make it better.” There was no mess, no blood. Her little pussy was so vulnerable. She mewed as his cloth approached and he shushed her. He pressed the warm cloth against her slit and slid it along her lips. He did this several times. Rinsing and wiping again and again until her whimpers died down. He put his other hand on her lips and parted them, she tensed up immediately. “Angel, it’s just you and me, remember.” She nodded, her eyes still shut, and tried to relax but only managed halfway there.



Choma spread her vulva open before his eyes and rubbed her with the cloth. She twitched a little but didn’t complain. “Did they hurt you? Did they touch you here?” She answered in English “Three. No. They held me down I,” her voice broke, “I couldn’t –” and she sobbed again. Choma lay his head down and kissed her thigh. His hand cupped her mound. “I’ll take it away, trust me.” She nodded. He pressed his head on her moist pussy and whispered, “What ever it was they touched in you, I’m going to take it back.” He stroked her slit with his nose, parting her lips. When he reached her opening he nudged it with the tip of his nose. She twitched and he shushed her, putting his hands on her thighs to keep her still. He sticked his tongue out and tasted her.



Siri grabbed Choma’s hair. “Please no, I feel so dirty. Don’t touch me when I’m like this.” Choma shushed her and licked slowly. His tongue dipped inside her hole and dragged on her pussy. Gradually the imprints of Choma’s touches covered and dimmed the handprints of the three men on her skin. “Please Choma, make it yours, I want to be yours, only yours.” She reached for his arms and pulled him on top of her.



His penis was semi erected but her proposal made it harden in one shudder that rocked his body. To have her want and beg for him felt so good. Those were the moments she was his like no other had ever been. Which ever date of birth stood on her passport, in her mind she was still a child needing to be held and filled with the feeling of not being alone in the darkness. He positioned himself on top of her. She shivered slightly and he kissed her forehead. “It’s just you and me here.”



“Please Choma, wipe them away, be in me and chase them all away. Give me your cum.” She spread her thighs wider and reached down to spread her pussy for him. “Make me yours Choma, make me yours.” He forgot tenderness and rammed inside her while she screamed in satisfaction. “More Choma, harder, own me, please, I need you.” There was desperation in her sudden need, for her voice broke again with her last words and she wept, tears rolling on the pillow on both sides of her head as he fucked her. Nonetheless, she kept asking him to do it harder and faster.



“Make it hurt Choma, I want you to make it hurt. Take me hard, make me yours. I want to be only yours.” He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her to him, making his cock go in as deep as it could in that position. She screamed in pain and still begged him to hurt her more. Too late he understood what she was doing and stopped. “Move! Fuck me!” she cried in a shrill angry voice, she opened her eyes and her gaze was furious, blazing. “Fuck me you bastard! Fuck me!”



He lowered himself on top of her, leaning all his weight on her. He moved his lips to her ear. “I’m not them. You are mine. You’ll always be mine. Always. Nothing will change that. You don’t need to punish yourself. You’ve done nothing wrong.” She grunted in anger and tried to throw him off her but he was stronger. “You did nothing wrong. It wasn’t your fault. You want me inside you, you’ll get me but not like this.”



“Fuck you,” she whispered and her chest heaved with sobs again. Choma rose and wriggled inside her for a moment to get himself fully erect again. He started moving slowly in her. She tried to buck against him but when she did he stopped altogether. “Please Choma, take me hard,” she kept asking and he kept refusing.



“I won’t punish you. I just want to wipe it away from your mind. Don’t be afraid, I’ll never leave you alone again. I want you and I’ll keep you. I’m sorry angel, I really am.”



He fucked her slow and though it wasn’t what she wanted she stopped cursing him for it. When she lay still for him he told her to get on her knees. Choma reached his hand on her mouth. “This is me, this is all me,” he whispered and speared her. She screamed in pain as he’d expected, the hand didn’t muffle her shriek much. He slammed himself against her ass taking advantage of the position in which he could penetrate her the deepest. She bucked and tried to escape but he had her tight in his grip. “You wanted hard, this is hard, you wanted more, this is more. I’m taking what’s mine. Scream baby, let me hear you hurt.” He lifted his hand and listened to her panicked howling.



“Please Choma, please,” were all the words she could form.



He grabbed her braid and pulled her head back. “Still want harder? You’re a little whore, but you’re my whore, mine alone. No one else has the right to call you that, you’re only mine.” She groaned loudly as he quickened his pace close to cumming. “My. Whore. My. Angel,” he stammered in the rhythm of his laboured breathing. “Say it!” He slapped her on her butt and she yelped.



“I’m your whore!” she shouted, desperate to please.



“Again.”



“I’m-your-whore. I’m-you’re-whore.” Each word came out as another of his thrusts hit the bottom of her cunt until he bellowed and Siri felt his hot cum spurting into her. Cursing, the shuddering man collapsed beside her and Siri lay down beside him. He’d spoken without thinking and wasn’t sure what he’d let slip.



Word by word, uttered with tears, he got the story out of her. “Bastards. Beasts.” She’d whispered two names with hateful spite, the rabid lapdogs of Rustam Ilkovych. He thanked heavens she was able to escape or they’d have shattered her soul and killed her warm heart inside her living body. He’d met three hollow ruins that were the girls unfortunate enough to have no one to protect them from degenerates like Rustam. It would have been kinder to kill them than leave them alive, which was the only reason they lived.



***



In the evening Siri approached him with the dictionary. “Liar,” she whispered faintly. “You speak English. Propably Russian too. It’s you, isn’t it. This Vakhno.” The name was difficult to pronounce, “Who are you? All this time you knew what I was saying and you didn’t answer me once. Don’t you understand how alone I was without no-one to talk to?”



Now he was sure he’d lapsed in his dizzy spin of desire and spoken English to her. He didn’t want to meet her gaze and admit that he hadn’t trusted her. “Enni, we all have pasts somewhere. When it’s dangerous or sad, it’s better no one knows.”



He’d used her real name and she realized that he’d gone through her things at some point. “The Doctor knows.” No sooner were the words out than she realized how childish she sounded.



“He thinks he knows, it’s not the same.” Those were the only words of English Siri got from him though she was sure he could have spoken perfect English had he wished to.



Chapter twelve



Larisa came by to fetch some eggs and return the scarf Siri had forgotten on her visit the previous day. Choma had had errands that couldn’t wait and kept to his promise not to leave her alone again. She had spent the day at the farm of Larisa’s family.



They were all having tea in Choma’s kitchen when Larisa changed the subject to local gossip. “I wonder if you’ve heard there’s been an accident at Hordiyenko farm. All three farm hands are in Shatsk hospital – the strangest injuries I’ve ever heard a harvester make. Rustam Ilkovych was unconscious when old Danylets found the boys. It’s not known if he’ll ever wake up. And our Doctor Savchuk was allegedly so busy he wouldn’t see them and sent them straight to Shatsk. That was strange.”



Choma said nothing and hid behind his mug. Young Rustam had been strong but he didn’t have Choma’s training. The pain of knowing that Siri had cried for help and he hadn’t been there for her ate him from inside out. All that guilt he took out on the boy. Choma hadn’t planned to kill him, but when he saw his leer he thought of him and his friends spreading Siri naked against the wall and the terror and shame he’d barely been able to get her to let go. Rage blurred the world around him and he’d beaten him until he fell and kept kicking him until his face was but a bloody mess.



Siri heard many names and it was difficult to pretend clueless until Larisa left for she’d heard their names. Besides, Larisa had had a weird look on her face. Siri wondered if she knew what had happened to her and felt sick. Night came too soon and they sat in the bed both waiting for the other to speak first.



“You killed them, didn’t you?” Her voice was cold.



Choma closed his eyes and sighed. “I tried to kill him.”



“Don’t you understand,” she screamed grabbing at him, “I don’t want to lose you Choma. You’ll go to jail.”



“He’s a monster. No one will say a thing – another farming accident. Should he die the village will be the safer for it. He deserved it.” A pause. “Siri,” Choma’s voice thickened, “he had no right.” He was afraid he’d choke if he tried to say any more and lay his hand on her cheek, pulling her closer to lean his chin on her head.



“But to kill a person?”



“Trust me, compared to what he was going to do to you his faith is merciful. Siri,” he turned to look away, “I’m not a good man. You saw the files. I was a soldier. Killing was my job. That and worse things.” He took her hand and looked at her, “He tried to hurt you. No one does that.”



There was nothing Siri could have said to that. Her hatred for Rustam was bitter but murder was incomprehensible, unreal. Yet she felt more his than ever and whispered, “Hold me.”



They sat in silence for a long time. None of it was her business but it was getting harder to keep secrets from her. At last he told her about his military service and the interrogation center he’d been assigned to.



“…I raped her and god help me I enjoyed it. I called in other guards and we took turns on her, eleven men for five hours, using batons and guns to rape her when no cock would stand up anymore. I left when she stopped moving but the others called in more and more men to use her and by the morning she was dead.”



Siri didn’t say a word and didn’t even look at him when he got up and left. Hours later she opened the door to the half lit workshop. On the workbench in front of Choma stood a tiny glass and a half empty bottle of horilka.



“I want to hate you but I can’t.” She took his hands and squeezed them, “Neither can I forgive you on her behalf, but I’m not ready to lose you. Look at me.” She took his head in her hands. “You are good – to me. Before,” the break was so long he thought she wasn’t going to say more, “…to have everything and live knowing that other people have nothing…” It was enough from that particular can of worms. “It’s better here. There’s balance, and if I get the least bit anxious, all you have to do is fuck me stupid and I’m calmer than any pill ever made me. Please promise me I won’t lose you. They’re not worth it. Nothing is. Not even She.”



“Siri–”



“What do you want me to say? It was twenty years ago in another world. And the man you described isn’t the man I know. So please, let him stay dead. What you and I do together doesn’t compare. I’m happy here. Please, come sleep with me. You’ve had enough to drink.”



Choma got up and shoved her harshly down back against the table. He pushed her nightgown up to her waist leaving her pussy bare. “Does it turn you on to know what I am?”



His hand crept closer to her snatch and Siri stared at him, face unreadable, her hands grasping the wrist of his invading hand, but not pushing it away. When he felt her with his fingers she was so wet it was as if her labia weren’t even there. “Stay still or it’ll go bad for you,” he hissed and started removing his pants. He entered her in one smooth movement and she cried out in delight. He moved his hands to grip her neck and squeezed. He was careful not to block her breathing altogether and yet in an instant he felt her cunt flood as she flushed with excitement. “Harder, harder,” she wheezed looking him straight in the eye.

Author’s note: This is a fantasy. Well, so far… My thanks to the young woman who inspired it.



*****



The train was late. Sandy fidgeted nervously before the announcement board, impatient in his lust. He reached Platform 15 as the train sighed to a halt, searching faces. Then she was before him, breathless and trepidatious. Maybe scared. But that was as it should be. He grabbed her roughly, pulled her into a harsh kiss. No love, just lust, and their mutual needs. His fingers slipped under her slutskirt, found wet cunt:



- Good girl. Did you have fun on the train?



A whimper:



- Sorry master, I couldn’t find anyone to fuck. Just flashed a couple of guys.



- Aye weel Rachael, you’ll be punished for that. You had your instructions.



*****



In the taxi she was shaking as she fastened her collar. He locked it, reached into her top to maul her tits. God she was perfect, his new slavegirl. Soaking cunt, fear and lust in her eyes. He fumbled the driver a twenty, attached the leash to her collar, and dragged her into his home:



- Lose your clothes.



Her eyes fell. He took photographs whilst she stripped, his cock rising as her young body was revealed. He’d had her once before, just for a weekend, under very different circumstances. This time there was no cause for equivocation on his part: she was his to do with as he wished. She wanted that; had travelled three hundred miles to get it. And in using and abusing her without restraint, he knew he’d be punishing the lover who had recently abandoned him. God he was turned on that a woman so young was his slave. But there was a problem:



- I told you to get waxed slavegirl.



A whimper. Tears. She shivered:



- Sorry master. I… I couldn’t get time off from work.



- Uhuh. So two infractions; no wax and no fuck on the train. You need serious punishment, slave. But first, your cunt must be naked.



He grabbed the leash and yanked her into the bathroom. Pointed to his electric beard-trimmer and wet-shave gear:



- Get on with it.



She sat on the edge of the bath and switched on the trimmer. He watched engrossed, taking photographs as she applied it above and over her cunt. The brown silky hair fell away. Soon all was reduced to stubble, notably damp around her labia and below. She turned off the machine, glanced shyly at him:



- Is that better master?



He moved to her, stroked her wetness, kissed her mouth gently:



- A good start slut. Now the wet-shave. Here, let me help you.



He filled the basin with steaming water, put razor and brush in it to heat, and removed the cap from his shaving-stick:



- All yours slut. Want me to soap you?



She nodded. She’d never used a shaving brush before. He knelt to inhale and lick her wet cunt before he started. Tangy and dirty, completely unlike the sweet fruitiness of his former lover. He liked it. Licked more. Was tempted to continue as she began to moan, but resisted. For now. He brushed a rich lather all over the stubble, gave her the razor:



- Completely naked for master.



She stroked inexpertly till his frustration required him to intervene:



- Your master needs to do that.



Within minutes she was shaved, rinsed, and baby-smooth. He was unable to resist, knelt to suckle her tangy sex:



- Jesus girlslave, this is beautiful.



- It’s yours master. Your cunt, to use as you wish. You own it, I promised you.



- Open your legs wide, I need to examine it.



He peered and licked, then slapped it hard:



- I know you need to be used. You will have your needs fulfilled. And you’ll get your first proper orgasm, I promise you. Now, bedroom.



During the previous scene they’d shared, she had said she’d never had a full orgasm. With anyone, in any way. He’d been frustrated that he hadn’t been able to give her one then. Was determined that this time he would.



She stood in his room, her young body trembling. Delicious small tits with puffy nipples, quite unlike the proud hard ones of his former lover. He shivered at the memory. But this girl was his now:



- What does master want?



- Slave has earned punishment for her infractions. On the bed, on your back.



- Yes master.



God she was so deliciously biddable. His cock jerked as she lay on the bed, legs spread, cunt glistening with need, waiting to be secured. He stripped quickly, padlocked the cuffs on her wrists to the headboard:



- Lift your legs. Ankles beside your hands.



Her cunt and arse gaped invitingly. Fuck he was going to enjoy her. Use and abuse her, but in doing so pleasure her. Fingers trembling with excitement, he secured her ankles to the bedhead. She was all his. She wanted this as much as he did. She was bright and intelligent, though he knew her life was troubled. He might want to help her in other ways if he could, but for now all he could give her was the abuse and sex she craved.



He knelt between her spread thighs, smelling her delicious need. Licked there, cunt and anus. But before he fucked her, she needed pain.



Opening his intricately-carved Chinese chest, he selected the flogger and nipple-clamps ordered specially for this girl. Both were too evil to have been used on his former lover; but he’d discussed them with Rachael, shown her them online, and she’d been eager to try them.



The flogger had steel tips to the falls. The clamps were crocodile clips. He moved to the bed with them. Applied a clamp to a puffy nipple. She screamed, so loudly that he considered gagging her. He had neighbours:



- Too much? Want the other one slave?



She gasped, tears running down her face. God he loved that…



- I’m collared for you master. I haven’t called my safeword.



- Jesus you’re gorgeous…



He was panting as, watching her writhe in agony, he applied the other clamp. His prick had never been so hard. He showed her the cruel flogger:



- Want this too slave?



She flinched through her tears:



- As master requires. Slave has earned it.



He ran the steel tips across her face. Over the soles of her feet; down the backs of her splayed legs. Dangled it over her cunt so the tips just feathered her. She squirmed in anticipation. Sandy was trembling with excitement. He raised his arm and the device flailed her gaping vulva. Not too hard the first time.



- More?



She nodded.



The next time wasn’t play. She shrieked as the cruel tips assaulted her nerve-endings. He heard no safeword. Started beating her seriously, but knew his excitement was getting out of order. Nearly beyond his careful self-control. Had to stop… His cock was dripping. Needing to spend in her. He ate her first, relishing this sharp new taste, and slid into her inflamed cunt:



- This what my slave needs?



- Ohgod master yes. Take your Rachael. And master?



- Aye?



- That was wickedly good. I’m so close…



Unbelievably beautiful. He fucked her with care at first, ensuring that his cockhead struck her gspot on every thrust. Fingered her clit, watched as she squirmed and moaned, knew she was rising. Wanted her to achieve orgasm, his strange needy girl. But he couldn’t hold out much longer as he took this sexgirl forty years younger than him… such a tight cunt…



She tensed. Convulsed and screamed, her eyes rolling up. And his spunk surged in her. Jesus, what a gorgeous fuckslave.



He sank on her groaning form, sweat pouring from both of them. Licked her everywhere he could:



- That was so beautiful Rachael. Thank you.



She smiled shyly at him:



- You made me cum master. For the first time in my life, you made me orgasm. Please, undo the cuffs. I need to hug you.



Tenderly, he unfastened her. She moaned as he removed the clamps and sucked her inflamed nipples. She hugged him tight, and he licked and kissed all over her face:



- God that was wonderful, my sexgirl. A most beautiful scene. And the fuck… your cunt is heaven. Thank you for allowing me bareback.



- That was the best scene I’ve ever enjoyed master. And to think, we’ve several days together now… your girl wants everything you wish to do to her.



- You’ll get it all, sexgirl. But before we get dinner, I think you need leather.



- God I want that. But please master, can I pee first?



- Only if I watch.



- Oh, I remember last time, you made me pee in front of you. I’d never done that before. It… um… it was exciting. And humiliating.



- Come to the toilet. You don’t know what humiliation is yet.



He grabbed her hair and dragged her to the room, clutching his camera.



- Crouch over it, seat up. I need to see and photograph everything.



She crouched. Her face was anguish:



- Please master, I need to but I just can’t…



He moved closer, kissed her mouth as he stroked her inflamed cunt, teasing the clit, easing his finger between her swollen folds, rubbing the urethra:



- Piss for master, slave. Piss now…



There was a trickle on his fingers. He put his hand to her mouth so that she could lick it off. Then the camera clicked as the urine gushed from her. The most delightful humiliation shone on her anguished face.



- Now stay there slut. Master needs to piss too.



Camera still in hand, he crouched close to her, kissed her mouth, and pointed his cock at her cunt. This was new for her; last time she’d begged him not to do it. This time there was no protest. The camera clicked as his yellow liquid sprayed her sex. He wiped her dry and instructed her to suck the last dribbles from his cock.



- Good girl. Now back to bed. Hands and knees. You need leathered for failing to seduce anyone on the train.



God he knew how much she needed pain. Relished the heavy belt as he hefted it:



- Just leather slave, or the buckle too?



- A… as master wishes.



Fuck. She’d get it then. He started with the leather, edging it as he swung so it bit hard into her presented arse. When she was glowing and marked, he knelt behind her. Her cunt was streaming. He lapped the sexfluid, pulled her arsecheeks wide, and licked into her anus. He’d have that later… But she’d asked for buckle, and she would get it.



He swung only twice. Drew blood on the second strike.



Left her whimpering on the bed, donned his dressing gown, and went to fix dinner. Called to her half an hour later when all was ready:



- Come and get it. Use the red dressing gown on the back of the door. No other clothes.



*****



The dinner was simple: grilled salmon steaks, boiled potatoes, steamed broccoli, fresh tomatoes. A bottle of fresh light French white.



She ate hungrily:



- I didn’t know you could cook master?



- Nothing fancy, but I’ve learned to look after myself.



Once they were done, he ordered her:



- Master cooked. Slave washes up.



- Yes master.



She’d just finished, was drying her hands, when he moved into the kitchen behind her. Reached round into the dressing gown for her cunt. Good and wet:



- Come here slave.



He dragged her into the living room, fingers hooked in her vagina:



- You told me you’ve never squirted, girl.



- No master, I don’t think so.



- You’d know if you had. That means you haven’t. Let’s see now…



He took her into his arms, kissing her with a passion that surprised her. Tweaked and played with her nipples, then drew the clamps from his pocket and applied them. Not the vicious ones: this pair had soft covers where they bit her buds. But they still hurt: her tits were recovering from their previous encounter.



She gasped into his kiss. His hand went to her cunt again: drenched. God he loved how she got off on pain. His fingers curled into her, found the spongy patch. She groaned in his mouth as he began rubbing:



- Master’s going to make slave squirt.



Her arms wound round his neck, mouth against his, slack with desire. As the rubbing intensified, she began to tremble, her cunt squirming in need against his busy hand:



- Yes master. Slave so wants that.



- Just let go my little whore. It’ll feel like you need to pee, just let go, let it happen…



She shuddered against him:



- Ohfuckohfuckohfuck…



Her entire being convulsed, and his hand and wrist were soaked. He knelt and drank the last few squirts, then carefully wiped the rest of the liquid with the dressing gown she wore. And removed it:



- Now bend over the table. Master’s going to have his slave’s arse.



She obeyed, smelling he flowers he’d bought for her arrival. She didn’t much enjoy it in her arse, but she had collared herself. He didn’t go to the bedroom for lube, fetched olive oil from the kitchen instead. God her arse was beautiful, bruised and blooded, young and inexperienced. He’d never before needed to fuck as he did at that moment:



- Pull your cheeks wide for master.



She complied, trembling. The fact that she didn’t like it in her arse made it more exciting for him. He thrust his dripping cock in her. Oh jesus, so tight, so exhilarating. This was all for him, and he used her hard, didn’t give a fuck about her this time. Reached to pull and maul her tits as he fucked her… knew he wouldn’t last long. Balls tightening, ohfuck, the terrible beauty was born… and he filled her with spunk. Delicious pure dirtyfuck. She was a delight. When eventually his prick softened and withdrew, there was shit on it:



- Up slave. On your knees. Clean your master.



He stroked her face tenderly as she took his limp cock in her mouth.



Before they went to bed he ordered her to remove the chain his former lover had fastened round his neck two years previously.



*****



There was much to do the next day. He’d promised to buy her clothes for promotional photos for her website. There would be social fun afterwards.



She was scantily clad, so he slipped a light raincoat over her form before they left the flat. It gave him satisfaction to parade her through his city, collared and leashed. He bought her clothes. But he was really looking forward to the shoe shop. She wore a short slut-skirt, thigh-highs, and no panties. No bra under her translucent top. It was hard to find a shop with male attendants, but eventually they managed. She was scared witless, and had to be dragged in.



- Can I help you?



The attendant was about forty, reasonably good-looking, with the unctuous manner of salespersons everywhere. He was even rubbing his hands. His brows rose when he noted the collar and leash.



- These black boots in the window. Do you have them in her size?



- I’m sure we do sir. Perhaps I should measure you madame? Please take a seat here.



She sighed with relief, removed the coat, and sat. At least it was in a corner, and didn’t face the window.



The man brought the measuring device and knelt before her:



- If you could just raise your left foot madame, please?



She remembered her master’s instructions and parted her legs a little. Raised her left foot. The assistant concentrated on the measuring device. Eventually raised his head to look at her. His eyes widened in surprise. Excitement coursed through her and she flooded. He must have seen it. Fuck, she could smell herself.



He was a professional; he’d seen it before. His recovery was instant:



- Thank you. Now the right please, madame.



She parted her legs wider. Fiddled at her collar, and unfastened the top buttons of her blouse. She leaned forward, close to the assistant’s ear. Whispered:



- Sorry, I’m a bit deaf. What did you say?



The man’s head was reeling. This was beyond his training or experience:



- Err, your right one now, please madame…



She leaned closer:



- My right what?



- Um, foot, madame. Please.



Rachael sat back and placed her right foot on the measuring device. God she was enjoying this poor man’s discomfiture. The tops of her thigh-highs were soaked.



Master touched her wet cunt whilst the man left to search for the boots:



- Is slave enjoying herself?



- I was terrified at first master. But now, yes, you know I’m very excited.



- I’ll tell him to cop a feel then…



The assistant returned, smiling nervously, and knelt before her:



- I think you’ll find these are the right size madame.



- Please put them on for me? My back’s sore.



Her legs parted as the assistant began to slip the first boot on. She raised the leg so he could access the zip at the back. Her pungent aroma filled the air and her cunt gaped before his eyes.



Sandy leaned down to the man:



- Like what you see?



The assistant’s voice was hoarse:



- Fuck. Err, sorry sir. Aye, of course I do…



- Want to feel and taste?



- Shit. Is the Pope a Catholic?



- Go ahead then.



The man looked nervously at Rachael.



- You don’t need to ask her. I own her. I give you permission to touch and taste what you can see.



The assistant zipped the boot up. Nervously looked round, then at Sandy, a question in his eyes.



- Go ahead. Slide your fingers up her thigh. She wants it. She wants you to touch her cunt. You can see and smell how wet it is.



The hand was shaking. It moved slowly up the thigh. Rachael quivered in excitement, and the movement of hand and thigh stimulated her further:



- Go on. Touch me. Touch my cunt.



The assistant’s palpitating fingernail caught in her thigh-high, and a slutty rip appeared.



- For fuck’s sake, touch me. Get me off.



His hand moved up the last few inches of fleshy thigh quickly, slithering on her juice. She moaned as he reached her sex:



- Slide them in. Get me off.



He knew what he was doing. Twisted his hand so it was palm-up to her sex, and his two middle fingers entered her. Sandy tweaked her nipples through her blouse and she wailed softly:



- I need it hard man. Wank me hard. Thumb on my clit.



Sandy watched in fascination when Rachael’s hips rose from the seat, her face a grimace of sexual anguish as the assistant grunted to serve her. But she couldn’t cum, and the man sat back, defeated. Sandy kissed her mouth:



- You did well, slave. Thank you.



*****



They ate in a wee Lebanese restaurant in the West End. Sandy was ebullient; Rachael a bit subdued after her experience in the shoe shop. The restaurant staff had looked askance as they entered; they’d only ever previously seen him with his ex-partner. But both the service and the food were, as always, impeccable. Once they’d finished and paid, he stroked her sex-sticky thigh under the table:



- If we find someone suitable, do you want your DP, slave?



She shivered, looked down. Then up in his eyes, a glow there he hadn’t seen before:



- I… I think so master. I’d like… to know what it feels like to have two cocks in me. Yes. Please.



He smiled, delighted at the final assurance in her voice. He and his ex-partner had discussed MFM threesomes at length, had three times tried and failed to arrange one. It was an experience he’d wanted for years, and with this biddable new slave he knew he’d have it. He drew her from the restaurant and hailed a cab.



The munch was in an elevated corner of the pub as usual, not in a private room. None of the attendees were friends, just acquaintances, and he’d fucked none of the subs. He’d removed Rachael’s leash, but not her collar, before they entered: it was etiquette not to be too overt here. He introduced her round, noting which of the doms seemed interested in her. Left her to her own devices and chatted to a couple of subs he fancied, whilst watching who was talking to her. One of the subs was very friendly. Strange how women sometimes appeared more interested in an attached than a single man.



Rachael had been chatting to Gavin for some time. Sandy liked the guy: he was reserved and intelligent, unlike some of the self-important fools who style themselves doms. He made a date with the sub for the following week, and joined Rachael. He sent her to the bar to order drinks:



- Hi Gavin. D’ye like her?



- She’s a bit quiet, but she’s in a strange city I suppose. Aye, she’s nice.



- Fancy her?



- Oh fuck aye, she’s red hot. She’s been flashing me; I could smell her.

I am grading papers when I look up to see Jasmine standing at the doorway of the classroom. I don’t know how long she had been standing there, but it is pretty obvious she wants to see me. I wave her in and she smiles as she nods, walking toward my desk.



“Mr. Thomas?” she says meekly.



“What can I help you with Jasmine?”



“Well, it’s about my report,” she says even more shyly. “I worked real hard on it and I was not expecting the grade I got.”



I look her over and smile. Here is a very bright and beautiful woman of twenty-four standing in front on me and at the moment all I can think about is having my cock in her. Pulling my head out of the gutter I say, “I was surprised with the paper myself, but you left out several, very important details of some of your points.”



“I tried really hard to relay that Mr. Thomas,” she pleads.



I know she tried hard and I feel bad for having to cut her grade shorter than any of her other works, but I just couldn’t play favorites. “This was different than your other papers and I could see you tried something a little different and harder. I graded you accordingly so that you could learn from it and improve yourself.”



“Is there something I can do to make up for it Mr. Thomas?” she asks politely.



“I don’t have anything for extra credit this late in the semester,” I reply.



“Are you sure?” she asks pulling at the hem of her shirt.



I swallow hard. Is this woman toying with me?



“Unless you have some idea then we can work something out,” I say testing the waters.



Jasmine smiles and pulls off her shirt, tossing it to the ground. She stands there with just her skirt and blue laced bra on. “What do you think Mr. Thomas?” she asks. “Will you take fucking my ass as extra credit?”



Once again I swallow hard. I can feel my cock harden and push against my pants. “Yes, I think we can do that,” I say.



Forgive me, I am weak I know, but when you have a twenty-four year old standing half naked in front of you, taking off her clothes, you don’t hesitate.



“Good,” she says unclasping her bra and letting it fall to the floor at her feet. “Are you ready for me Mr. Thomas?”



She walks around my desk and pushes me back in my chair before turning around and bending over the desk. I get up instantly and pull off her skirt then I run my tongue in small circles around her lower back before moving down her ass. I plant gentle kisses along her skin before running tongue along the fabric of her matching blue panties.



Jasmine moans quietly as my tongue traces its way along the crack of her firm ass. I take her panties and begin pulling them off, sliding them down her long, sexy legs. Then I lower my head and kiss the top of her ass crack. She lets out a soft moan as I drag my tongue down her ass crack and then back up.



Jasmine moves up onto the desk further onto her hands and knees. Then she lets her legs slide out, still bent at the knees, until she is practically doing the splits right there on my desk. It just makes her ass look even more irresistible. I run my tongue down her ass crack and onto her tight little hole.



“Mr. Thomas—” she starts to say, but is cut off when my tongue slips into her asshole. “Oh my god,” she moans instead.



I tease her a little, by licking around her tight little hole, driving her crazy.



“Don’t tease me,” she says.



I do as corrected and I thrust my tongue as far into her asshole as I can.



“That feels so good,” she groans.



When her ass is nice and wet, I push my face into her, forcing my tongue even deeper inside her. I start sliding my tongue in and out until she is nice and loosened up. Then I pull away and stick my finger into her hole.



I slide my finger in slowly, watching as her tight ass swallows up my finger and grips it tightly in place. I can tell she wants more, as her ass is clenching and unclenching around my finger.



“How does it feel?” I ask.



“So fucking good Mr. Thomas. Give me more!”



“How about another finger?” I ask smiling to myself.



“Oh god yes!” she cries.



I push in another finger and start thrusting back and forth. Jasmine buries her face into her arms as I continue to finger fuck her asshole. I lower my face and start to lick around my fingers as they penetrate her depths.



“Put your cock in me now!” she cries. “I want to feel it!”



Now I am beginning to wonder if this is just for extra credit or does she just want a cock in her ass as well.



I gently slide my fingers out of her ass and pull down my pants and underwear. My cock is already as hard as it can be. I spit into my hand and rub my cock with saliva, then spit onto her already glistening asshole. My fingers go back to work, rubbing my saliva into her tight hole.



I pull her ass apart further than it is already being stretched and begin to slide my slippery cock up and down her ass crack before coming to a stop at her tight little hole. She holds her breath as I begin to push. Her ass is tight and doesn’t give much, but I manage to squeeze my cockhead in with a slurping pop.



She groans as her tight hole clamps down around my cock. I stop and let her get used to the feeling. After a while she begins to relax a little more and I begin to move my hips around. I then push forward a little more. I keep her cheeks spread and I stare at my cock, half buried in her ass as she starts to play with her pussy.



“Keep going,” she urges. “I want to feel all of your fucking cock inside me.”



I reach around and grab the front of her thighs, pulling her back a little. She moaned louder as her ass slides down my cock. After a few more minutes I am completely buried in her tight ass. The feeling is amazing and I start grinding my hips into her ass. My balls are pressed firmly against her pussy lips and I can feel the vibrations from her playing with her clit.



“Mmm, I feel so full,” she says. “I just love it.”



As I withdraw I can feel her ass grabbing at my cock, trying to hold me in place. I pull back almost all the way out then push my way back up Jasmine’s asshole, this time a little faster.



“Oh my fucking god,” she whimpers as I bottom out again. She is squeezing her as tightly around my cock and I am having a hard time even moving it. “Faster,” she pleads.



I start fucking her a little faster, trying to control myself. Jasmine begins pushing her hips back at me and I stop. She increases her pace, thrusting her firm ass backward. She drops her head into her arms once again and screams as she is taken by an anal induced climax. I can feel her ass clenching and unclenching around my cock as she tries to milk it with her asshole. The feeling is incredible.



“Come on Mr. Thomas, fuck me!” she cries.



I grab her hips and thrust forward, feeding my cock to her hungry ass. She groans loudly as I pull out again then thrust back even harder. I pound her tight hole, driving my hips down into the desk and stop just before my cock explodes in her.



She turns and looks at me with a look of near sadness. “Do you want to try a different position?”



I nod and pull my cock free from her slippery asshole. She smiles and rolls over onto her back and pulls her legs up to her head. Before me sits her cleanly shaved pussy and I wonder if I would ever get the chance to try it.



Pulling her legs up to her head, her hips raise up off the desk. I move forward and slip my cock into her waiting asshole. This position is even better. I stare down at my cock moving in and out of her body, then up to her face. Her eyes are closed in pleasure and a soft moan resonates from her lips. I know I am not going to last much longer.



“Jasmine,” I say. “I’m going to cum soon.”



She looks up at me and says, “Will you fill my ass up with your hot cum?”



I nod and keep fucking her. I start going faster and faster as I feel the cum rising inside of me. With a groan, my cock spasms and unloads a massive torrent of hot cum deep inside Jasmine’s well fucked asshole.



“Ohhh,” she squeals. “That feels good.”



I keep my cock firmly embedded in her ass for a few moments before I pull out. As my cock slips from her ass, it is followed by a trickle of my cum. I collapse back into my chair.



Without a word, Jasmine slips her panties back on. “Thanks Mr. Thomas, she says kissing me on the cheek. “That was amazing. Do I get that extra credit?”



I smile and say, “You sure do and then some.”



“I guess I will have to do some more extra credit work from now on,” she says snatching up her skirt.



I stare at her ass as she gets dressed. There is a small wet spot forming in her panties and I know it is from my cum dripping out of her freshly fucked asshole.



When she is dressed she heads for the door and before walking out she turns and smiles at me. Maybe I would get to try out the smooth pussy of hers after all.

Dirty Mr. Styles



A Short Erotica Tale By Stacey Taylor Often Writing As Nikki Bastion



Literotica Edition



Dirty Mr. Styles © 2011 Stacey Taylor All Rights Reserved



.One.



‘Morgan Humphrey Styles, Attorney At Law’ read the newly stenciled sign on the glass door. Though he was quickly nearing the age of retirement, Morgan Styles had no intentions of giving up his long held position as Karas Cove’s only resident defense attorney anytime soon. Recently relocated to a brand new single office, and now with both a personal secretary and front office receptionist, as well as his handy paralegal, he felt on top of the world and ready to embark on a whole new caseload.



Styles had spent the last decade sharing offices with other attorneys arriving from out of town, as well as real estate lawyers and a title and loan company. The small, sterile offices made him feel less important than he truly believed himself to be and the constant noise and traffic made it nearly impossible to focus on the legal work he needed to complete on time.



Now, he had his very own office — a long time coming. Rich pile carpet in deep rustic brown, a heavy mahogany desk, and matching bookshelves gave his personal office an exquisite, old world feel. Nothing beat the high back leather chair he’d picked out for himself down in Flagstaff. He’d even splurged for the office girls to have nice oak desks and file drawers. When he wanted to be, Morgan Styles was most generous.



The problem, however, was not an inefficient working environment (at least not anymore). The problem, as it had been for nearly 7 years now, since his wife’s curious demise, was personal inefficiency. Morgan Styles stood a prominent 6 foot tall and was once quite the athlete. As he’d crossed into his 50s, the bulk and muscle had softened, ultimately turning to flab and fat.



His round, bulbous shape weighed in over 240lbs by the time he’d reached his current age of 63. His thinning hair had remained dark, though in recent years, streaks of gray permanently established themselves around his temples. Morgan Styles was even less enthusiastic about the man boobs.



At home, while he was hygienically correct, his busy schedule allowed a world of clutter to pile up in spots in most every room in his beautiful brown stucco home. He’d lost his housekeeper to a relocation and rarely bothered with grocery shopping anymore, choosing to dine at his favorite restaurants in town. It saved time and trouble.



Then there was his love life, or, to be frank, his sex life. Truth be told, both were non existent. He still yearned for somewhat of a sex life.



Somewhere along the way, his schedule removed him from any real social life after his wife’s death. He’d not loved the woman in nearly 30 years, and while her cause of death had been ruled Undetermined, there were some in town who suspected an unsavory fate had befallen her, as within days of her funeral, Morgan Styles had removed all traces of his wife’s existence from their home. No one had ever seen Morgan Styles grieve for the missus.



Not even at her funeral, attended by hundreds in and outside of the community, had anyone ever seen Morgan Styles appear to be a grieving widower. He seemed calm, assured as always, keeping a refined dignity on hand at all times. If Morgan Styles did grieve, he’d done so in isolation. It was his lack of emotion that roused some suspicions as to the true nature of his wife’s death.



If Morgan Styles had been involved on some level, it behooved the local authorities and no charges were ever filed, nor was any investigation to take place. It seemed that her death, curious as it may have been — a woman in surprisingly good health to simply die in her sleep in the comfort of her own bed — could not generate enough suspicion to do much about. Since her death and subsequent removal from his reality — not even a photograph of her remained anywhere in his home — Morgan Styles continued his established work and dinner routine unabated.



Morgan Styles had a bit of a secret, though. He may have been in his early 60s, but he was still quite highly sexed and masturbated several times a day, usually imagining himself slipping his thick, squat little cock inside the luscious wet hole of any of the cute waitresses at his favorite diners, or the Temp who’d briefly worked for him a few summers previous. Mr. Styles loved his orgasms and enjoyed jerking off every chance he got.



During his nearly 2 hour drive down to Flagstaff, single lane traffic on 89 always helped facilitate his horny rush. He’d get just outside of town, pull into the scenic overlook lot to unzip his pressed slacks, then ease back onto the highway, leisurely fondling his prick for the drive, able to cum within a mile of entering the city. Morgan kept a packet of wet wipes on the seat for clean up and would pull over to repair himself professionally before continuing on. He thrilled at the notion of all the people in front of or behind him, passing him, having no idea he was pleasuring himself the whole trip.



When he would dine at the local steakhouse, one of the waitresses, a slender young woman in her early 20s with a surprisingly underdeveloped figure for her age, had been one of his favorite fantasy muses. After finishing his meal, Morgan Styles would steal into the men’s room, lock himself in a stall, push his pants to his knees and stroke his little cock wickedly until he’d shot his creamy jism into the toilet.



Imagining her slinking into the stall with him, rubbing her hands along her tiny body and smiling at him appreciatively was enough of a fantasy he could finish in a minute or two. Jerking off to her was a favorite indulgence. It usually didn’t take him long, nor did he make a lot of telling noises. What he wouldn’t give to fuck her just once.



While not as enticing to him as the notion of some sweet young thing gobbling up his needful prick, he did tend to enjoy slipping out onto his patio when his neighbors were enjoying their hot tub. The wife (he’d assumed the couple had been married but didn’t know for sure, he’d never met them) would always strip naked on their patio and stride slowly to the pool, stepping down and straddling her man for some splashing copulation. She was a bit too masculine and hard bodied for his taste but willful naked ladies were never a bad thing, he concluded. T&A is T&A and he loved some T&A.



In the dozens of times Morgan Styles had crept onto his own patio, the couple next door had never seemed to notice — never saw him sitting in his bathrobe in the garden chair, leisurely stroking his cock while watching them fuck and suck each other for hours. Sometimes, he would sit on his patio fully naked and openly masturbate while watching the hot young couple; they never seemed to notice — or if they had, they simply didn’t care. Perhaps they were exhibitionists? Who knows. Morgan enjoyed his live porn act next door and had no intentions of disrupting the show.



What he wanted, and had been more seriously contemplating lately, was to hire himself a personal assistant; one with skills to help him organize his personal life, and one willing to help him find a woman who wouldn’t judge him too harshly. His problem, that he could not escape, was that the pickings for the sort of gal he’d prefer were slim to none at his age. Not even his money (a good chunk of it inherited from his deceased wife) seemed to be enough for women these days. He was too well known locally to ever risk entertaining a prostitute, either in Karas Cove or in Flagstaff.



Then there was his personal secretary, Lena Gilbert, who’d worked for him for over a decade. He’d hired her in her early 40s when she still looked reasonably attractive, specifically because she looked reasonably attractive. Once he’d gotten to know her, however, Morgan Styles recognized he felt nothing for her in any other capacity than employee — and she was indeed fabulous at her job. She kept his office running in tip top shape.



Lena, however, had an ongoing, well known crush on Morgan, always going out of her way to make her attraction known (though with proper discretion, of course), always feeling that he would choose her in the end to avoid being alone. When she wasn’t reminding him of it, she was perfectly willing to wait until he figured out that he loved her all along.



She would be waiting a very long time.



Morgan not only did not love her, he mostly found her rather repellant. She was a tall, thin woman but her overly tanned flesh had begun to resemble dry leather. Her overly dyed red hair had begun to resemble dry broom bristles, and her deep, raspy voice, while never from smoking, tended to make him feel he was conversing with another male. That was mostly where the problem with Lena Gilbert was, as far as Styles was concerned: she was just too mannish for his tastes. That, and she seemed utterly pathetic waiting around on his affections, wasting her life, ignoring his acknowledgment that what she desired stood no chance of ever happening.



Though Morgan knew that he, himself, was certainly no physical catch, he couldn’t help be true to his genuine desires and tastes. He wanted a woman who looked and felt like a woman. He wanted curves. He wanted a nice set of tits he could fondle and suckle. He wanted a pert, round ass he could spank, and a tight pink pussy he could do all sorts of naughty things to.



Morgan Styles would often experience quite lucid dreams of much younger girls, perhaps barely legal, inexperienced, and hungry for attention, wealth, and training. Oftentimes Morgan would become so aroused by its immersive reality he would ejaculate in his sleep. Awake, Morgan found himself distracted by younger girls he’d encounter throughout the day, and struggled to restrain is naughty, perverted urges. So as not to risk his reputation, he found a happy medium with secret fantasy of horny pre teens, or with the kinds of women who were legal, but didn’t quite look like it.



Still, he was rudely aware of the facts of the matter. Women like that were eager for hot, young, well built studs, or men who’d maintained an appealing physique. Those sorts of women would never find him appealing, what with his pudgy round face and double chin, dark thinning beard, his fat, thick little fingers, or his big, round tubby ass. He knew it…but he still hoped.



He’d been thinking quite awhile that if he hired himself a personal assistant, she could help him find just the right woman — this was clearly a job for a woman’s point of view.



Briefly, Morgan had entertained the notion of approaching Nancy Utemeyer (his paralegal), and perhaps Kitty Lopez (his receptionist) — both were quite young 20 somethings and seemed to be fairly in the know about girl things, or dating things, but in the end, he decided against it. Nancy had a boyfriend and seemed overtly — if not overly — religious, believing in the sanctity of matrimony, and he had no desire to remarry. Kitty was single, overweight, not quite appealing enough and usually annoyed him with monotonous tales of the book club she’d recently joined. She didn’t appear to have much of a social life as it was, so probably wouldn’t be the best option.



No, he would hire himself a personal assistant. After he had an opportunity to see her organizing his pitiful personal life, getting to know her somewhat, then he would appeal to her feminine expertise to help him find a woman suitable for him, and of course, give him some pointers on how to make himself more appealing to women, even at his age…and weight.



Morgan Humphrey Styles was an old, perverted fat ass in need of a good woman, an attractive woman, a young woman…a sexual woman.



And he was in need of her very, very soon.



.Two.



It was another bright, sunny afternoon when Morgan Styles finally made time to follow through and place his advertisement in the local Chronicle’s Help Wanted section. Lena was concerned about the placement of the ad, feeling that once again, her skills and talent were being overlooked. While nearly 30 applicants arrived wanting the job, Lena’s inherent cattiness and jealousy took over and many applications became conveniently lost.



Morgan Styles was none the wiser, since most days he was out of the office and in court. He would fire her in an instant if he’d ever discovered her betrayal, but Lena had felt strongly that he didn’t need a personal assistant for anything when he could simply ask her. She’d be perfectly delighted to become his assistant, to take care of his home, to tend to his needs. After discovering he’d placed such an ad, Lena decided to intervene — for his own good. Then she would make the offer to include assistant duties, as well.



Meanwhile, Morgan would ask Lena to bring in the daily applications and grew discouraged at the paltry amount, perhaps three or four over the first week. Surely, more people in this town were in need of a good job? Fortunately for his search, Morgan’s caseload eased up for several days the following week, so he would be in the office and could take interviews himself. Lena seemed put out by the whole notion but it wasn’t her concern. Morgan knew she wanted that job, too, but he had no intentions of offering it to her. She would simply cause a fuss about his desires to find a much younger, far more appealing woman for his other kind of needs.



Wednesday would be Morgan’s last free afternoon to schedule interviews for the week. Then it was back to the grind and many trips back to Flagstaff for work. In fact, he was due in Superior Court bright and early Thursday morning to defend a client on justifiable homicide charges at 9:30am sharp, and really needed to spend Wednesday night reviewing briefs and making sure all the documentation was perfected.



Shortly after 2pm that afternoon, Morgan Styles heard the front doors open and a tiny, sweet voice made of music requesting to speak with him personally. He could see Lena at her desk peering up over her horn rimmed glasses, giving the as of yet seen lady the stink eye. He could not see the receptionist counter from his office desk but heard Kitty Lopez tell her that she would have to fill out an application. He watched Kitty Lopez waddle passed the doorway, and shortly after, waddle by again holding a legal sized application in hand. He felt a disgusted wince wrinkle his features at the swishing sound of her bloated thighs smearing together as she walked, even though when he walked, his bloated thighs made exactly the same noise.



“Is Mr. Styles in? Would it be possible to see him this afternoon?” the melodic voice asked ever so sweetly.



Rather coarse and firm, Lena interjected, decidedly put out: “No ma’am. Mr. Styles won’t be seeing anyone this afternoon. Fill out the application and leave it with me. If he’s interested, we may call you in for an interview at a later date.” Lena Gilbert thinned her lips, visibly annoyed.



Morgan’s irritation grew alongside his curiosity about the woman attached to such a lovely, enchanting voice. Didn’t Lena know he was in the office with the door wide open and could hear everything? Of course she did. Morgan wheeled back the chair and hoisted up his heaviness, moving briskly to the doorway to intervene. He’d mostly needed to satisfy his curiosity as to the owner of this delightful voice.



“Oh…” said the stranger. “Yes, ma’am. I understand.”



When Morgan Styles appeared in the doorway, his eyes drank in a vision of pure loveliness. There was a sight to behold, for sure. She was quite beautiful. Quite petite, with golden blond hair that fell in a gentle curl as it reached her lower back. Her dainty figure and features made him positive she wasn’t a day over 17. In a flash, Morgan Styles intervened.



“Nonsense, Miss Gilbert…I have time today for an interview,” he’d said pleasantly, his eyes never shifting from the beautiful young thing in the reception area. “Come in, come in!” he said to the new girl and stepped aside in the doorway sweeping his hand inside the room.



The young woman looked up with surprise and smiled sweetly at him. Without looking back at the rather dismissive older woman, she moved elegantly around the receptionist’s desk and walked into his office, looking up at him with the most sparkling blue eyes he’d ever seen.



She gazed up at him appreciatively. “Thank you, sir.”



“You’re quite welcome.” Morgan Styles smiled and felt himself stand even straighter. Without looking back, he ordered Lena Gilbert to hold all his calls and to not disturb him during the interview. Then he abruptly closed the door, knowing Lena Gilbert would be beside herself he’d prevented her unwanted efforts to derail his agenda. He would deal with her soon enough.



For now, he moved back to his desk, making eye contact with the young lady standing near the guest chair. She was still smiling at him. He couldn’t help taking in her shape, given the way her polished, purple, sleeveless dress fit her most appealing curves. The skirt was above the knee, not too short — just perfectly professional. She held a small handbag by its straps dangling in front of her, and black sweater draped over her wrists.



“Sit down, miss–?”



“Thank you, sir. Miss Thomas.” She offered pleasantly.



“Miss Thomas,” savored the lawyer. “You’re interested in the personal assistant’s position, then?” he asked, knowing she already had the job. Knowing she could probably have any damn thing she wanted, if only she would keep looking at him that way. He was downright smitten off a single glance. Childish, of course, but Morgan Styles suddenly felt as spry and studly as any 19 year old boy…and frankly, just as horny.



Miss Thomas nodded and answered decidedly: “Yes, sir, I am. Very much so.” She sat in the chair as Morgan gracefully held the back of it, though it was a solid, steady piece of furniture. Having taken a seat, she draped her left leg over her right knee toward him and adjusted the hem of her dress. He couldn’t get over how mannerly and graceful she was. He was most impressed by her. Like a sweet, teen angel. Oh, how he would love to deflower her…devour her…make her his own.



Forgetting he was still a fat ass, Morgan moved quickly – but with refined dignity – back to his chair and sat, unable to take his eyes from her. After a pause, he inhaled deeply and began the interview. Miss Thomas answered in all the right ways. She was proper and polite, and not the least bit desperate or insincere. She was a refined, mannerly, quite elegant young lady and Morgan loved it, ached for it! Finally, his curiosity had been piqued enough. “How old are you, Miss Thomas?”



Sweetly, delicately, she answered: “I’m thirty three, sir.”



Morgan’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped. “You’re kidding!”



“No, sir,” she smiled, looking into his eyes directly. “I wish I was!”



“Nonsense, little lady. You don’t look a day out of your teens!” He chuckled, still astonished at her overwhelmingly youthful appearance. “I was sure I would have to be filing age permits or have to turn you away. I must say, I am highly impressed with the way you’ve taken care of yourself. And well together, if I may say so.” She looked like a school girl, was built like a woman, and had the maturity and presence of mind to know exactly how to behave. Dear god, she was perfect! Everything he’d dreamed of.



“Thank you, sir. I appreciate that.” Miss Thomas smiled and lowered her lashes ever so, then looked back at him again. Her eyes glistened.



Morgan Styles wiped a palm across his mouth and beard, inhaled, and continued to describe exactly what he was needing in a personal assistant. He explained, with legitimate humility, that his personal life was in disarray, what with the schedule and overwork, being gone and needing the services of a house keeper.

Then he needed someone to organize his files at home, make sure he has his suits dry cleaned and ready on time — he would like his assistant to handle the headhunting portion and find the right candidates to do these things, but would prefer it if she, herself, would be in charge of handling the files at home. And of course, accompanying him to Flagstaff throughout the week, keeping him in check, making sure he didn’t forget anything, which he was often prone to do. Morgan Styles was a mess.



He deliberately omitted his agenda of getting her to help him find a woman, helping him become more appealing to them — at least for now. He would need to get to know her, make sure she was capable of this particular endeavor. So far, she seemed to be highly intelligent while being amazingly youthful. If she wanted the job, it would certainly be hers. After explaining to her the salary, the hours, the benefits, and vacation time package, he leaned back in the chair and clasped his fingers on top of his tortoise sized belly.



“If the job description is suitable to you, I would prefer you to start first thing in the morning.”



Miss Thomas beamed a smile that competed with the brilliant Arizona sunshine and nodded with restrained excitement. “Oh, yes, sir! Thank you so much for the opportunity, sir! What time should I arrive?” she asked with much poise.



“I’m due in court in Flagstaff at nine thirty am sharp. You will need to be here at six so we may arrive early. We can discuss things in more detail on the drive down and back. Is that acceptable for you, Miss Thomas?”



“Absolutely, sir! I will be here!”



Morgan Styles felt his little stubby cock stiffen as he gazed appreciatively at her, watching her smiling back at him. He moved his hand to the telephone intercom and pressed a button, not moving his eyes from his new personal assistant. His new, spectacularly beautifully, perfect personal assistant. Not even the gritty, masculine voice of Lena rasping through the speaker disjointed Morgan Styles from the young woman’s beauty.



“Yes, Mr. Styles?” He could hear her jealousy hissing through.



“Miss Gilbert…” he began with a cheerful tone, “Make up a new employee file for Miss Thomas please and bring it to me at once. I’ve just hired this young lady as my personal assistant.”



“Have you? Yes…well. Of course.” Clearly, Lena did not approve. Something would have to be done about this. The man is simply ridiculous.



Without removing his finger from the intercom button, deliberately so, Morgan Styles smiled and offered the following sentiments to his new assistant: “By the way, Miss Thomas…should my secretary, Miss Gilbert, ever give you any trouble, or behave toward you with any disrespect whatsoever, I want you to tell me right away so I may remedy the situation once and for all. She may find herself out of work.” Morgan intended to put the woman in her place, which was out of his personal business.



“I wouldn’t hesitate, sir.” She smiled at him again, also aware of his finger on the intercom button. Her tone conveyed a gentle triumph over the other woman’s cattiness, one recognized by all woman and practically no men. Morgan Styles may not know, but Lena Gilbert certainly did, that Miss Thomas had sent a strong message she will not be toyed with.



Morgan released the intercom button, leaned back and smiled. Yes, he definitely liked this little lady, no doubt about it.



Lena Gilbert felt her time had just run out. Fuming that he’d gone ahead with this ridiculous notion, she decided that she would approach him personally, away from the office, away from this new…girl, and plead her case one more time, to show him that she was the best candidate for this position.



Then she would get to work finding a way to get this little harlot out of her life…out of Morgan’s life…once and for all.



Whatever it took.



.Three.



No one was at the law office when Miss Thomas arrived at 5:45am. She knew to be even earlier, hoping Mr. Styles would be first to show up. She could tell by the looks, the tone, the relays the day before that the secretary was apt to be a royal bitch and throw a wrench into her plans. It had been a fluke of nature, or so it truly seemed, that she’d been absently browsing the thin weekly newspaper when she’d happened upon the ad placed by Morgan Styles’ law office seeking an assistant. It was too tempting to pass up. This would be the perfect opportunity for her to be able to pursue her plans.



She sat comfortably in her little blue Volvo sipping coffee. Her makeup had been flawless this morning, subtle and youthful with a touch of vamp. She had chosen to wear a delicate, white, button up blouse with short sleeves, tucked into a charcoal colored skirt with a gentle ruching in front and back. She wore no stockings, just slipped on black, patent leather Mary Janes with a slender 4 inch heel. Very sexy and alluring, she knew. Her blond hair was pulled loosely back and clipped low with a barrette. Mr. Styles would definitely approve of her attire this morning.



That’s precisely what she counted on, but to be sure, she unbuttoned the top button to reveal the barest hint of cleavage. Nothing tacky, but enough to keep his eyes darting back with hope.



Her thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of a huge, brown 1970s Thunderbird. Such modest transportation for a man of means. She’d wondered why he wouldn’t drive something more prestigious like a Mercedes. No matter, if she had her way — and she fully intended to — her plans would set her up just fine in life…and her new found position as personal assistant to Morgan Styles was the perfect opportunity to get her there.



Miss Thomas had a ready smile awaiting Morgan as he lugged himself out of the car. Her smile turned to a grin as she watched the vehicle rise once it was free of his weight. Morgan Styles smiled wide, greatly relieved she’d shown up at all. He waved and motioned for her to get out, then stopped and waited as she followed his request. She looked absolutely stunning. “Well, good morning, Miss Thomas!” he offered jovially.



“Good morning, sir!” With a hint of tease, she asked: “Did you sleep well?”



“I did, indeed. Thank you for asking.” Morgan escorted his new assistant to the front doors, fumbled for his keys, and exclaimed, “Ahh, there she is…” finding the right one. He unlocked the door, opened it and stepped to the side, motioning for Miss Thomas to enter ahead of him. She smiled at him, looking directly into his eyes, and walked into the lobby.



Morgan dropped his gaze to her sweet little ass rounding through the slim fitting skirt. He took notice again of her shapely legs and those goddamned sexy heels. Might be a hard ride to Flag this morning, he mused, his little dick twitching.



Closing the front door, Morgan unconsciously placed his palm flat against her back as he edged around her to find the light switch. He mumbled something about its odd placement behind a chest high filing cabinet next to an opposite doorway, flipped it on and waited momentarily for the florescent bulbs to buzz on overhead. “Ah. There we are…light!” he beamed.



“Is there anything I can do for you, sir?” Miss Thomas offered.



“Oh, no…you’re fine. Have a seat. I will only be a minute. Miss Gilbert won’t arrive until eight. We should be long gone by then.” He was quite relieved to not see her this morning and wanted to be gone well before she showed up. “I’ll just grab my files and we can be on our way.”



“Yes, sir.” she replied, as Morgan disappeared into his office.



When he returned, locking his office door, he waved a hand and motioned to Miss Thomas it was time to go. Smiling with a brief nod, she stood and respectfully waited for his direction. Morgan opened the front door and motioned her to exit ahead of him, which she did, waiting on the step as he locked the door. They walked together to the car and as he unlocked and opened the passenger door for her, she quickly excused herself momentarily to collect her coffee and purse, and lock up her car. He waited patiently, studying her body in exquisite detail. They exchanged smiles again as she lowered herself into his vehicle. She is just something else! What a dream! he mused, looking forward to their long drive through the desert.



“Ready, set, little lady?” He asked pleasantly.



“Very ready, sir.”



“I warn you,” he said, as he pulled onto the main highway out of town, “this drive can get very tedious. I will do my best not to bore you to tears the entire way.”



“Oh, Mr. Styles, I don’t think I’ll be bored at all. It’s a lovely drive, actually.”



Morgan agreed. “It is the first time or two, but eventually the novelty will wear off. We can perhaps get better acquainted along the way.”



“I look forward to it, Mr. Styles,” she replied sweetly.



For the first half hour, Morgan Styles went over general job duties and quizzed her as to whether or not the expectations were agreeable. So far, Miss Thomas seemed quite willing to comply. She would answer his cell phone and take messages. She would review his appointments, make sure he was aware of them and kept them on time. She would sit with him in his office and do various odds and ends as needed. She would soon visit his home and help him organize the massive mountain of files and papers strewn about — something he’d warned her of well in advance, hoping she would not run screaming into the desert.



Once she’d felt comfortable with his expectations, she would begin scouting a housekeeping service suitable to his lifestyle. She’d also decided, quite on her own and made the offer, to sit with him and write up a grocery list — she would shop for him, and she would be glad to make dinner for him at his home when he chose not to eat out.



Morgan couldn’t help but be impressed. She was a dream come true. He assured her that he’d not had a home cooked meal in years, so he would be delighted to taste anything she offered him. He’d been so impressed by her gesture that he suddenly heard himself offer to let her fix up one of the guest rooms however she liked, for any time she didn’t feel like driving home. He assured her complete privacy and run of the home. Miss Thomas smiled and accepted graciously. She seemed so touchingly innocent.



He asked more about her and learned that she lived alone in a small apartment in town, had lived in Arizona most of her adult life, and wasn’t on good terms with her family back east. She’d sidestepped brutal details and Morgan did not pry. He understood family struggles all too well and explained that he’d also left home early on and trekked west to make his life somewhere else. Morgan never mentioned, nor did it come up, that he had been married or was a widower. That life was now a million miles away.



By the time they’d arrived in Flagstaff, he felt he’d known her for years. The rapport had been quite easy and upbeat. While Miss Thomas seemed to easily get his brand of humor and took no offense, she’d also remained quite composed, inherently sweet and dignified, and easily amiable. Morgan was simply bowled over by this new woman appearing out of nowhere. He couldn’t get her out of his mind from the moment he saw her.



In fact, in spite of himself, he couldn’t help wish that she should take some romantic or sexual interest in him. It bothered him to no end that he would ever need to ask her for help finding a woman, or to put himself at her mercy seeking measures to make himself more appealing. He felt she would find him utterly pathetic. He couldn’t help relishing the idea all the same of having her to himself, for she was the walking embodiment of exactly the kind of woman he dreamed about and would kill to call his own.



Later that morning, Miss Thomas sat in the public section in the courtroom and watched the proceedings with distinct interest. Law and criminal justice had fascinated her, but she was most surprised by her reaction to watching the illustrious Morgan Humphrey Styles defend his client. She had few details of the case, but sat enthralled by Morgan Styles presenting quite a rational and sound defense; so much so that when he’d finished, she was completely convinced the client acted with reasonable grounds of self defense and should be set free. Her chest swelled with pride and admiration.



To her further surprise, she found his courtroom manner and ease of legal knowledge beyond impressive. She wondered what his life had been like over the years, how dedicated and diligent he seemed to be, how organized and well rehearsed, that seemed to lend to his being so personally scattered. In spite of her own plans, Miss Thomas genuinely admired the good Mr. Styles, enough so that she decided to make herself indispensable to him, to really help him organize his life much more efficiently.



Due to the state’s failure to file a motion by the deadline, the court was adjourned for another 24 hours to accommodate the prosecution. Morgan collected his documents and files, placed them into his tattered leather briefcase, snapped it shut and slid it off the defense table. He spoke to a man and woman, and his client — a tall, slender Navajo man who seemed both nervous and anxious until Morgan patted his upper arm. The client heaved a sigh and nodded with a more relaxed smile. A deputy escorted the client out of the courtroom. People began filing out the doors. Morgan turned around and caught Miss Thomas’s eye, smiling pleasantly. She returned the same and stood up.



She trailed to the right of him in silence as Morgan and two others left the building, stopping momentarily on the front steps saying goodbyes. The younger man, probably another up and coming attorney, proudly shook Morgan’s hand and seemed eager to get in his good graces. Morgan accepted and wished the young man well.



When they’d gone, he turned to Miss Thomas, put his hand flat against her mid back and invited her to lunch. She graciously declined, saying that she wasn’t very hungry. Morgan asked if she’d prefer to wait until they returned to Karas Cove to pick up lunch and he could show her his lovely but disorganized abode — she could see what she’s in for.



Miss Thomas acknowledged that sounded perfect and she could wait to eat a bit later. Morgan obliged, and once again the brown T-bird was on the highway for the long drive back to Karas Cove.



Just as they’d gotten out of Flagstaff and the piney forest opened into pastel desert, Morgan asked what she thought about the court session that morning. Miss Thomas smiled with genuine enthusiasm and told him she found it incredibly fascinating, along with her opinion of his client’s innocence. Morgan smiled with great pride and thanked her for the vote of confidence. It’d been a long time since a lady had found him interesting.



“I’m very sincere, sir. I thought you were quite amazing. I hope to never need you, but if I do, I would feel very safe with you on my side.” Her sentiment was most sincere, which he appreciated even more.



“You know, you are not required to call me ‘sir’ all the time. I don’t mind if we’re on a first name basis, after all. You will soon become most familiar with my disorganized intimate life, so feel absolutely free to address me much more casually, at least privately.” he’d told her.



“Yes, sir…” she began, smiling at him sweetly. “I just have too much respect and admiration for you, I feel you deserve to be addressed properly. I don’t mind at all, Mr. Styles.”



Morgan looked at her, again feeling great pride and appreciation. “Well, thank you, Miss Thomas. I accept your position, however when you feel more comfortable with me, you call me Morgan…deal?”



“Yes, sir…but honestly, I feel incredibly relaxed and comfortable with you already. I just don’t want you to feel I’m ever being disrespectful.”



“Not at all, not at all. I have seen enough since you walked into my office to know that you are a very respectful, polite, and courteous young lady. I am very glad that I’ll be having you as my personal assistant.”



Then, with a sudden curious doubt, Morgan added: “That is, if you truly think you will keep the position.” His statement ended as a question.



Miss Thomas continued looking at him with genuine admiration. “Sir, I’d love to be with you as long as you’ll have me. I appreciate so much that you gave me this position and I promise I will do whatever it takes to be exactly the kind of assistant you need me to be.”



After a short pause, making sure she didn’t blab too much, Miss Thomas continued: “I’m very eager to please you, sir.” She punctuated her statement with a smile and bright, wide eyes.



Morgan shifted slightly in the driver seat; a smile crossed his lips and his brow raised slightly at the other thoughts that dashed through his mind…his dirty, perverted mind. Oh, how he wished that’s what she meant, but he could tell that she was much too proper and innocent to have meant that. Especially that. No, she wanted to make him proud of her, to do good work for him. And he appreciated that a great deal. He would keep his secret desires a secret. To know he wanted her as he did would surely disgust her enough to send her running.



Despite his conscious determination to keep his personal desire on the secret side, Morgan compulsively reached his hand across the seat and casually placed it on Miss Thomas’s thigh, just above her knee. With a gentle little squeeze, he chuckled. “You’re quite the eager beaver, my dear.” He glanced at her. She was still looking at him with a smile in her eyes. “I wish all my employees were as eager as you!”



Miss Thomas didn’t flinch and she didn’t recoil when his hand found her thigh. Instead, she sat just as poised as she had been and replied sincerely, “Well, Mr. Styles, I can’t speak for the others but I can assure you, I am quite eager to please you in any way I can.”



Morgan looked at her again, wishing he could take his eyes off the road much longer than a few seconds. “I believe you, Miss Thomas.” He’d also noticed that she didn’t flinch or recoil. He then wondered when the appropriate time would be to move his hand. He suddenly found himself unsure of decorum now that he’d done it, touched her, though it wasn’t too intimate — still lower than her skirt hem, for sure, but the awareness of her bare flesh against his palm suddenly had him more than a little self conscious.



If he moved it too quickly, it would appear juvenile and clumsy. If he left it too long, it would be highly inappropriate and she could take offense. Maybe to accentuate a statement? Yes, he should say something clever, give her another little squeeze and casually remove his hand.



“You know, Miss Thomas, I apologize to high heaven but I still do not know your first name.” No, that’s not quite the right statement. Morgan hadn’t removed his hand. “I was so excited to have hired you that I didn’t take the time to even review your file. Bad form. I apologize.”



“No sir, not at all. My name is Nichole.”



“Nichole…Nichole Thomas…that’s a lovely name.” His awkwardness was definitely rising. Something needed to be said that would allow him a graceful and discreet release. He wondered if he’d offended her. Perhaps she was uncomfortable and too nervous to just slap the hell out of him, fearing she may lose her newly gotten job? Of course he’d never fire her over that — it was his careless compulsion that engaged her discomfort. Ahh, that would be a good topic to work with.



“Still not comfortable with me to call me Morgan?” he baited.



“Not at all, sir. As I said, I feel completely at ease with you. I feel like I’ve known you my entire life, actually.”



Morgan smiled. Perfect.



“Ahh, then may I ask you a rather personal question? And if it’s inappropriate, or should you take offense, please don’t hesitate to speak up. Offending you is certainly not my goal.”

“Of course…ask me anything you like. I won’t be offended.”



Steadily, not yet releasing her silky thigh, Morgan made sure his hand remained still. “I can’t help but notice that you’ve not slapped my hand away the last several minutes. If it is because you’re uncomfortable and perhaps afraid to say anything, don’t be. I would greatly prefer that you are comfortable enough to point out these things should I ever cross any of your personal boundaries.” Bumbling, but the point is made.



Nichole shifted her right leg and brought her knees together, her inner thigh suddenly and gently brushing against the top of Morgan’s fingers.



“Actually, Mr. Styles, I’m not the least bit uncomfortable about that, nor am I offended or afraid to say anything. I don’t mind that you touch me at all, really. In fact, sir…you can touch me any time you like.”



Morgan looked over at her, decidedly curious and taken aback, and for a moment, wasn’t sure what to say. He was well aware that she’d brought her legs together almost keeping his hand in place. Before he could conclude that had been her intention, she’d casually eased her right leg back to its original position, bent at the knee and solid on her right foot. He glanced at her legs, her smooth, tan, shapely legs and took a breath. Without a doubt, the very idea she didn’t mind his hand there filled his cock with desire in a hurry.



“Is that so?” He’d exclaimed, mostly in disbelief. “Don’t you find it inappropriate of me?”



“No, sir, Mr. Styles. I don’t.” Nichole Thomas shifted slightly and to Morgan’s utmost shock, her right leg edged farther to the right. Had she actually spread her legs to him?



Nichole looked directly at him with a ready smile: “I like the way it feels. Though, at the risk of being inappropriate myself, I’d have preferred if you put your hand a little higher up than you did.”



Morgan smiled in curious surprise. “You shouldn’t toy with an old man like me, Miss Thomas…that’s not nice, you know.” For what else could he say? He was completely taken off guard by her sudden boldness. He certainly didn’t see that coming. While wrestling with his confusion, he felt the warmth of her hand gently cover his. Smooth, delicate hand and twining slender fingers linked into his own short, meaty digits. Somewhere he felt she should be repulsed. She had to be toying with him. He’d hate to have to defend himself in a sexual harassment suit.



“I’m not toying with you, sir,” she answered sweetly, and then, to his surprise, braced the seat with a hand and scooted herself even closer to him, taking his hand in hers and moving it slowly upwards along her bare thigh, beneath her skirt until the edge of his palm met the fabric of her panties.



“This is more what I had in mind, sir.” Nichole did spread her legs wider now, the movement itself causing her skirt to slide high on her thighs. “In fact, Mr. Styles…you can take full liberties with my body any time you desire…if that would please you.”



No, Morgan Styles was clearly hallucinating. No possible way was this happening, and if it was — and it was — it had to be a plot, a joke…she couldn’t be sincere. He knew what he was — a fat, slobby porker…an old coot, a perverted old fuck. No way would this beautiful, shapely, sexy young woman thirty years younger be at all sincerely interested in him touching her anywhere. And the very next day?



No, something wasn’t right. Not right at all. He was sure of it.



But Morgan Styles never moved his hand. Suddenly, he had decided that if she would toy with him so callously, he would at least indulge himself as far as she let him without causing any real drama. Right now, it would be her word against his. And surely no witnesses. Perhaps he could enjoy a little feel of the cagey Miss Thomas. Yes…he most certainly would.



Changing tactics and feeling more confident that he had correctly assessed the situation, Morgan grinned with pure lust and answered her offer with his only warning. “Careful, Nichole. I could do terribly dirty things to that sweet little body. Don’t tempt me.”



Still looking at him directly, now with a naughty smile on her red lips, her fingers still locked in his, Nichole turned in the seat to face him more directly and as she did so, placed his full palm flat onto her pussy. “I think I would really enjoy that, sir.”



White panties, even…silky panties. Perfect little V panel brushing against his hand. Morgan steadied the wheel, gauged traffic — nobody on the road in sight — he exhaled a moan and took the initiative to begin rubbing her pussy through the fabric. She purred and leaned back to indulge it. Her eyes were closed, a smile of what appeared to be genuine pleasure on her lips.



“It’s very difficult to drive this way, my dear.” he’d told her.



Miss Thomas opened her eyes and gazed sweetly up at him. With one hand, she slipped the top button out of its loop and moved to the next, and the next, until her blouse had fallen open down to the waistline. Leaning up, Nichole pulled open her blouse and exposed her white, lacy bra and tan, smooth mounds for Mr. Styles enjoyment. She was an easy C cup, proportional for her petite frame. “You can always pull over, sir.”



“Don’t tempt me, dear…I’m quite aroused enough to take you up on it, and frankly, I’m not sure what to make of this sudden predicament.”



Nichole leaned back and drew her knees together up near her chest, at the same time reaching underneath her skirt, looping her thumbs in her panties and sliding them slowly down her perfect legs. With a grin, she slipped them off her feet and tossed them into the floorboard.



Morgan watched as long as he could manage before returning his eye to the road, but then he felt a sharp poke in his upper thigh. When he glanced down, the lovely, incredibly sexual Miss Thomas had spread her legs apart and placed her left shoe heel firmly into his thigh. Her bare, shaved pussy was crimson with arousal. She wasn’t faking anything at all…she was absolutely turned on. The sight of it had Morgan’s little nubby dick hard as steel in a split second, his balls tight.



As she softly caressed the full face of her pussy, she purred up at him with a genuine smile. “Touch me, sir…right here…” she whispered out loud and rubbed a finger along her cherry, swollen clit.



Morgan swallowed dryly but wasted no time obliging her. His fat little hand moved back to her thigh, edging along, feeling her bare flesh and nearly timidly all of a sudden, made contact with her pussy with the top of his fingers. He could feel her clit tumbling between them – a sensation he’d not felt in years, but that he quickly remembered and relished. Morgan Styles pushed his thumb against her clit and began slow, gentle, rubbing circles. She murmured in pure pleasure, her pussy beginning to pulse.



“I’ll have a wreck before it’s over, dear…I’m a second away from pulling this car over. Is that what you want?” Morgan noticed he sounded like…like her father…a thought that eased to him with wicked delight.



With another purring smile, Nichole nodded. “Yes, sir…it is.”



Morgan Styles drove a bit farther until they reached a pasture road. He slowed the car and eased it off the highway, nose in, facing a rusted iron cattle gate. He put the car in park, leaving the AC running. He could already feel sweat from desire moistening his skin. Having stopped, he slid free of the wheel toward the center and turned ever so in the seat to watch his curiously horny assistant begin to masturbate herself using his hand and fingers. He couldn’t help but slide his free hand along her other leg at the calf, stroking it as if it was his throbbing prick.



“Mmm…Miss Thomas…that is very sexy…” Morgan breathed in awe and delight. He could now see her slit inviting and open, glistening with her own arousal. Morgan slid his thumb down from her clit and began to rub the fleshy hole, dabbing it in and out, watching for any sign that she was displeased. She wasn’t the least bit displeased. He may not have been with a woman in years, but he hadn’t forgotten the look, feel, and scent of raw arousal in a woman. Miss Thomas was clearly turned on, no doubt at all.



Once he’d slid is fat thumb inside her pussy and felt her muscles clench around it, he knew that she wouldn’t be saying no any time soon. Still, he was well aware this seemed to delight her, teasing and using him for her pleasure, so Morgan Styles decided then and there to let her lead the way until she flowed with cum. He would try not to get overanxious to push things.



He did, in fact, enjoy this about her. The tight hot cunt hugging his fat little thumb was pure pleasure, or so he thought, until Miss Thomas thrust her pussy into his hand, and pulled two more of his fat, stubby fingers down to her hole. The little minx wanted more? By all means! Morgan Styles retrieved his pussy soaked thumb, turned his palm up and inserted her two chosen fingers, thrusting them deeply inside her, tracing his thumb over her clit. His fingers squeezed together inside her. God, she was perfect.



She met his probing fingers with wider legs, gripping his wrist with both hands. Her head flung back, but he could see the smile of lust across her lips, her eyes closed in pleasure. She seemed to like fucking his fingers.



After several minutes, Nichole eased up, careful not to turn loose of his fingers in her cunt, and reached in front of her, looking into his eyes. She scooted up closer and began to unbutton his shirt. At first, Morgan Styles felt ashamed, not wanting her to see his ugly, flabby gut. He winced, positive that she would take one look and it would destroy this fabulous gift of a mood.



Artfully, without moving his fingers out of her hole, she managed up on both knees beside him and as she unbuttoned his dress shirt, she began to trace her tongue along his chest. Unfortunately, old school attorneys tended to wear old school under shirts and it appeared to be in her way.



Undaunted, Nichole kissed and nibbled along his neck, while slipping her hands underneath the shirt, and over his protruding man tits and fat belly, reaching below it to find the zipper of his slacks. Before she found that, she felt his hard erection pushing the fabric upright, and circling her fingers along the shaft of it, began to stroke him through his pants. Kissing his neck, up to his ear, she bit the lobe and breathed warmth into it, “Mmm, you’re so nice and hard, sir…” she whispered. “I want to touch you, too.”



Morgan was breathing heavier now, heavy arousal overtaking him. He answered simply by raising his hips off the seat to unfasten his pants and struggled a bit trying to push them down his fat thighs. His squat, tiny cock bobbed upward and Nichole immediately moved back, taking it in hand. She looked at it as if it was the most beautiful appendage she’d ever seen, even nearly convincing him she took great delight in the visual.



He knew he was little, perhaps close to 4 inches fully erect, bulbous head and all, but this young woman of his dreams smiled with genuine adoration, then lowered her head, opened her lips and began wetting it down with her tongue. Oh dear god, that’s amazing…he thought, and in a breathy whisper, “that feels amazing…ohh, mmm, yes, yes…so amazing…”



Pulling back ever so, kissing the shaft of his little prick, Nichole purred and answered, “I only want your pleasure, sir.”



Of course, she knew that he was pleased. Morgan smiled, closing his eyes and nodded, “You’re nothing but pleasure, dear…I love it.” He brushed his fingers through her long, soft silken hair. What an angel…outstanding!



In response, Nichole thrust against his fingers, reminding him he’d stopped actively fingering her needful cunt while indulging in her expert sucking and licking. Morgan pushed his fingers deeper inside her and resumed thrusting until she was fucking his fingers, his cock in her mouth in synch. As her head raised, she sucked his dick with firm tugging, darting her tongue around the head, teasing his hole, and then slid her wet mouth down the shaft, taking him into her throat with unsurprising ease.



Her hand stroked the shaft and made loose but highly arousing circles around his cock head. Her other hand had finally found his balls and began teasing them with her fingertips. At one point, as she stroked his prick, she began flicking his balls with her tongue.



Morgan gasped with pleasure at the intensity. Without realizing it, he’d muttered, “Nichole, I’m so close…so close…”



A moan of sheer delight uttered from her throat as she’d slid her mouth down his shaft, a moan he felt through his dick in spades. She sucked him deeper and more passionately, slipping her free hand beneath his balls and making a half successful attempt to find his asshole. Morgan lifted his fat ass off the seat and Nichole was able to slip her fingers down his crack and find his hole. As she fingered it, dipping her tiny digit into his anus, she sucked harder, bobbing wickedly up and down his aching dick, and as she began to move up, she felt Morgan’s body tense, his breath stifle, and a groan leave his throat. The pleasure was intoxicating, he’d never had a woman finger his asshole before and it felt unbelievable. His body broke into chills.



In a flash, he felt the cum hurl out of his balls, up the shaft and explode out of his dick; in the same flash realizing Nichole did not move away. She sucked down onto his pulsing prick and swallowed every drop of his creamy cum. She was thrusting down on his fingers ever harder and it was all he could do to keep from ramming his stubby fingers up her cunt, though he practically was, in spite of himself. He came furiously, her tiny finger pushing into his anus, her warm, wet mouth sliding up the cock head and licking up all of his jism without stopping until he was spent.



She was truly delightfully perfect.



Reluctantly, Nichole eased her finger from his asshole, slid her hand up his nuts to hold them while she finished off his spectacular blow job with an affectionate kiss to the head of his increasingly flaccid dick. Morgan leaned his head back and breathed deeply, forgetting again to thrust his fingers in her pussy. She leaned up and kissed the elder man on his cheek.



In his ear, “I’ve pleased you, sir?”



“Oh sweet god, little lady, I’ve not felt this good since I was younger than you! That felt exquisite. Thank you!” His gratitude was sincere. His stubby fingers still lodged in her pussy. He didn’t have the heart to move his hand anymore. He could keep her cunt attached to his fingertips until he dropped dead, she was so hot, wet, and tight. He pushed and wiggled them inside her. She giggled and wiggled herself in his grasp and kissed him again.



“I think I am going to enjoy our trips to Flagstaff, sir.”



Morgan smiled. Sir. She could call him whatever the fuck she wanted. “That would certainly please an old horny devil like me. You’re a very naughty little lady…I had no idea you would take any interest in me.”



Nichole squeezed her pussy tightly around his fingers, gazing lovingly at him. She dropped her dainty hand down against his chest, cupping his man tit in it. “Well, sir…we all have needs and desires. I did tell you that I was very eager to please you. In any way you desire,” she said, as she traced her fingertip around his nipple; it quickly stiffened.



“I’m old enough to be your father, you know.” Morgan skirted another of his secret desires.



“Mmm…Mr. Styles, yes, know…and I love it,” she purred, and ran her tongue along his fat nipple, sucking it into her mouth.



Morgan chuckled, “Do you, now? Then again, if I was your father, you surely would never have responded to me this way.”



Teasingly, she countered: “What if I did? Would you still?”



Touchy area with a potential for ugly landmines. Morgan relished the incestuous idea, probably due to his secret desires for sweet younger things. Since she was clearly baiting him with the idea, perhaps she was into a little daddy play? What a lustful thought! “Miss Thomas, if you were my little girl, and you responded to me just this way, I admit it would be very difficult for me to refuse you. Genes or not. You are powerfully enticing.”



Instead of recoiling in disgust, the idea seemed to delight her. She seemed unconcerned with the taboo as she suckled his man tit in her mouth.



Morgan looked at her with curious interest, studying her for any sign of a prank but she seemed quite sincere. Still, he was reluctant to share that depth of his fantasy just yet, though he loved the notion. He didn’t fully trust the situation. “It’s quite the naughty fantasy, indeed, Miss Thomas. You would be a hard little girl to refuse, that much I can admit.”



Nichole kissed his cheek. “I loved the way you came for me, sir.”



“I loved the way you…well, the way you did everything you did.”



“Any time, sir…any time,” she teased.



Neither of them seemed to notice the long line of cars speeding by. Morgan caught his breath and smiled, unable and unwilling to remove his fingers from her cunt.



“Would you like me to return the favor, Miss Thomas?”



“Mmm, yes, I would!” Nichole edged away from him and lay back across the seat. Morgan licked his lips and awkwardly attempted to turn in the seat to reach her dripping pussy with his mouth. Unfortunately, the attempt only reminded him that he was too much of a lard ass to pull it off. With shame, Morgan lowered his eyes and uttered an embarrassed chuckle.



“I don’t believe I’m able to get a good position in the car. Perhaps we could wait until we’re at my home where I could please you properly.”



“I understand, sir. But may I ask a favor?” She seemed so earnest.



“Of course, my dear…anything you want.”



“Keep your fingers inside me until we’re back? It feels so nice.”



“I’d be delighted.” Morgan laughed as he applied the brake and had to shift to reverse without the use of his right hand. Nichole giggled with amusement, but seemed to trust the situation readily.



Back on the highway, Morgan drove with his left hand and continued wiggling and thrusting his soaked slick fingers in her pussy. She would writhe and moan, sometimes rubbing her clit and lifting her ass off of the seat to get him deeper. She still had not exposed her full breasts to him, but he could tell easily they would be perfectly smooth orbs with gorgeous nipples that he looked forward to sucking.



Since they had crossed a tremendous comfort barrier, Morgan spoke more openly to her, and she reciprocated without hesitation, while still maintaining her sweetly polite “yes sirs” and “no sirs” and… “sirs.”



He’d asked what prompted her sudden wantonness on the drive back. Nichole had told him that she’d always admired him and wanted to please him. He’d edged closer to his own insecurity and asked the delicate question — did she not find him rather disappointing, unattractive, considering his weight, and then his age?



Not at all, she’d assured him, as she traced her nails lightly along his wrist. She had found him appealing, weight and all, and the urge had overtaken her. She confessed that she’d not been this turned on by a man in years. Perhaps it was a strange to him, but not to her; she truly wanted him.



Whatever it was that inspired it, she assured him it was not a passing fancy. If he wanted her, she would belong only to him, willing to do anything he wanted. However, before Morgan could respond, she added one thing more to the unexpected admission.



“But what I find myself most interested in, sir, is exploring fantasies together, and fetishes. I know you have dirty fetishes as I do, Mr. Styles and I would love for us to share those with each other, to really push away boundaries and do everything with each other…wouldn’t you like that?”

Nope, Morgan didn’t see that coming, either. He wondered if any of his fetishes would offend her. Of course they would. Many were downright illegal because they offend somebody somewhere. He’d still not quite connected the dots that apparently, one of her fetishes included fucking old, fat men – not that he would protest…the girl was a dream.



“What sort of fetishes do you have in mind, Miss Thomas?”



“Make me cum again and I’ll tell you…” she teased, bouncing her ass and pussy playfully on the seat. She looked so at ease laying across the seat.



Morgan shook his head and grinned, and worked her tight little hole until she was writhing and thrusting in the seat. He decided to return the favor and lower his thumb down the firm crevice of her ass until he found her silky shaved anus. As he circled his thumb around it, Nichole spread her legs as wide as they would spread and cupped her tits in both hands. “Mmm, yes…do it, sir…” she pleaded. Her little slit gaped open hungrily. He smiled.



He pushed the entrance of her tight asshole but barely managed the tip. Nichole was arching now, primed and ready, rubbing her clit hard as she moaned and thrust toward him. Gently, Morgan pushed more of his thumb into her awesomely tight asshole and had her bucking for more. The sight of her pleasure began to arouse him again. Thinking out loud, Morgan announced:



“Mmm, what I wouldn’t give to be able to shove my cock right up your tight sweet asshole, little girl.”



And with that, Nichole arched and squealed out loud. He didn’t need to ask, he could feel her body jerk in orgasm, pussy clamping in pulsing spasms around his fingers, cum oozing out of her slit. Though his fat fingers plugged her hole, he realized the gush of liquid trying to flood his fingers meant she would’ve ejaculated, squirted that sweet stuff right out of her hole into his hand…or better still, his mouth. His cock ached at the very idea.



As she fell back into the seat, breathing, Morgan could no longer resist the urge to taste her. He pulled his pussy soaked fingers from her slit, eased his thumb out of her ass and watched glorious cum gush out of her slit. He brought both fingers up and sucked them into his mouth.



Mmm, the taste of her…so raw and sweet. He licked his fingers clean of her cum. Before he could finish, Nichole had returned to her knees beside him and taken his hand from his mouth. Leaning back just so, she inserted them into her pussy again and squeezed around them, slid them out and raised them to her mouth, sucking his fingers the way she’d sucked his fat little prick…with nothing but devoted affection. She eased his fingers from her warm mouth like a child removing her pacifier. She had a childlike aura about her that easily made him forget she was a fully grown woman.



After she’d cleaned his fingers, she leaned up again and kissed his cheek. He’d not noticed, but she had, that they would arrive in town in a fast 10 minutes. She retrieved the pack of wipes, pulled one free and cleaned her hands and fingers. She pulled another and tended to his, as well.



He marveled at the nurturing way she went about tending to him. She then redressed, good as new. In no time, she looked as proper as she had when he’d seen her that morning, minus lipstick. A second later, as if reading his mind, she retrieved a tube of red shade lipstick, pulled down the visor mirror and applied it with the steady hand of an artist.



When she’d finished, she scooted closer and patted his bulging stomach, resting her head on his upper arm. She slid her hand down under his belly to his stubby cock and casually massaged, stroked, and caressed it until Morgan eased the Thunderbird into the driveway.



.Four.



“This is your home? Oh, it’s gorgeous, sir!” Nichole exclaimed.



Morgan smiled with pride; he’d worked his ass off for this place and it was all his. His pride was instantly replaced with the dreaded embarrassment that the mere sight of the clutter may send this girl packing.



“It is lovely, but it’s a mess. I hope you’re up to this part, dear.”



“Of course, sir…I can handle it.” She grinned with a wink.



She waited as Morgan raised off the seat to pull up and fasten his slacks. He didn’t bother to tuck in his shirt. He hoisted himself from the car and walked around it to open the door for her. She took hold of his offered hand and stepped out of the car.



“Thank you, sir.”



“You’re so very welcome, my dear.”



In spite of the clutter, Nichole felt comfortable in the spacious southwestern home and began to wander around having a look. It almost seemed as though she was oblivious to the clutter and papers strewn about. In fact, it almost seemed as though she was oblivious to his age, his wrinkles, and flab, for she gazed adoringly at him as though he was the most beautiful man alive. He struggled between his disbelief and his ego more than once.



Of course, he hadn’t been born yesterday. Though he had suspicions — beautiful young women simply do not adore and need to please dirty, aging fat men; it doesn’t happen in the real world — he couldn’t help but let her indulge herself as long as it lasted. The second she asks for something, the game is up.



Morgan closed the front door, joining her in what was usually the main living room. He walked up behind her, close against her, and took her upper arms in his hands. In response, Nichole reached behind her and found his floppy prick. She squeezed it in her fingers and slowly began to massage it. Morgan reached in front of her and cupped her ample tits in both hands. The scent of her hair had him reeling with desire.



“Ahh, little lady…you’ll be the death of me yet…”



Nichole leaned her head back against his chest. His man tits felt like two pillows over his large gut. She fumbled with the fastener of his pants until he intervened to assist her. This time, Morgan pulled his pants down to his ankles giving her full access to his meaty member. Though he wasn’t very endowed, his dick felt sculpted and hot in her fingers. The feel of it made her smile as she gently tugged and twirled it in both hands.



As she was occupied, Morgan finally took the liberties with her she’d previously agreed he could take and began to unbutton her blouse, eager to feel those gorgeous tits in his bare hands.



Nichole stepped away from him, though, and then turned to face him. Her gaze moved down his lower half to the floor and then back into his eyes. With a sweet, innocent smile, she unbuttoned his dress shirt and pushed it off of his shoulders. He let it fall to the floor. She began to lift the undershirt when he stopped her, feeling self conscious.



She only smiled again and nudged his hands away, lifting the shirt as high as she could, forcing him to pull it over his head. She knelt to the floor and tugged at his ankle. Morgan lifted his foot and she removed his shoe and sock, then repeated the same with the other foot. He stepped out of his pants and stood above her completely naked.



Self conscious. Uncertain. Nervous. And yet, completely liberated.



Nichole ran both hands tenderly up his calves, his thighs, to his wide hips. On her knees, she looked up at him with all the purity of a school girl and then took his cock in both hands, kissing it. Her forehead nudged against the underside of his hanging gut but she continued kissing his dick with devotion, if not worship. She lifted it upright and knelt lower to lick and suckle his testicles; pre cum oozed from the head of his cock. Nichole lapped it onto her tongue and swallowed it. Then she began kissing and licking his bulbous belly, both hands flat against it, squeezing as she kissed all of it.



Standing up, she had been mouth to nipple with Morgan’s droopy bitch tits and sucked one nipple into her mouth, teasing it with her tongue. She opened her mouth wider and took more of his tit, licking and circling the nipple, cupping it with her hands. She moved then to the other, cupping it and lowered the other hand to take hold of his cock with a tug and squeeze.



Just as Morgan leaned down to kiss her lips, Nichole grinned and eased back, dropping her arms to her sides.



“Now…undress me, sir.”



“Yes, ma’am.”



Morgan was filled with uncomfortable lust, hating being stark naked before such a beautiful creature, yet insanely turned on at the care and devotion she had taken in spite of his lack of appeal. He wanted to rip her clothes from her body but restrained himself with the same slow hand she’d used on him. He removed her blouse. He stepped closer, pressing his fat stomach against her, reached behind and unhooked her bra. He gently pulled it from her arms and let it fall to the floor as he stared with deep pleasure at her perfect tits. Morgan knelt before her, knee joints popping, and slid her skirt down her perfect legs. Nichole stepped out of it and kicked it aside.



Taking a breath, Morgan looked up into her eyes. She was smiling at him with gentle tenderness, if not compassion. He tucked his thumbs into the waistband of her panties and slid them down to her ankles. She kicked them off and stood naked before him, save but her sexy heels.



There the both of them stood, face to face, naked and exposed; she with her perfect, tan, youthful figure, luscious legs, beautiful bare pussy and tits, and he with his pale, round fatness, his short, squat dick and his wrinkled 63 year old flesh. Thirty years older, old enough to be her father and yet, this woman who could have any man she wanted, for some reason had wanted him. He couldn’t complain, wouldn’t dare…he would indulge her every wish and desire, but always waiting on a punchline. There had to be one, this doesn’t happen in real life. Miss Thomas should be naked with some hot young stud, and he should be indulging the grim Miss Gilbert.



Nichole smoothed her palms all over his body with the same adoration she’d handled his dick, following her soft caresses with soulful kisses everywhere her hands went. Morgan Styles breathed in at the pleasure, and began to return the favor. Soon, they were touching and caressing each other into a state of abject lust, and Nichole sweetly instructed him to sit back on the sofa. He obliged and Nichole moved closer, straddling his lap and brought her bare, shaven pussy down on top of his throbbing cock. She pulled it upright along her slit and began a sexy thrust, sliding her pussy lips up and down his shaft holding it against herself.



Knowing the answer all the same, she asked teasingly:



“Would you like to fuck me now, sir?”



“Oh, sweet god, yes…” moaned Morgan, his tiny prick pulsing.



Nichole’s pussy was dripping wet, slick and hot, as she used her hands to spread her lips and maneuvered herself directly over the head. Morgan held his dick steady and they both watched as she slowly pushed his fat little cock head just into her wet hole. They both moaned and then grinned. She pushed down a little more and Morgan nearly shot off that second at how tight and snug her amazing cunt felt around his dick.



She lifted up a bit and then pushed down more, sucking more of his thickness inside her. It was pure rapturous torture. When she’d pushed his dick all the way inside her, clit rubbing the hilt, Nichole began a slow, steady, tormenting thrust up and down his fat little cock, nearly making him pass out from the heady pleasure. His fat hands gripped her soft, firm hips and moved with them as she stroked him with her hungry, but ever so patient cunt.



All the while, she gazed directly into his eyes and smiled with such innocence he had to remind himself she initiated all of this on her own.



For a moment, she leaned back, bracing her hands atop his knees, and Morgan leaned up and began to suck on her nipples, pushing both tits close together so he could slide his lips and tongue between them. She rode his dick a little faster, moaning and purring at his touch.



Since Morgan had cum earlier, he was fortunate to have a more prolonged sexual interlude and hoped to better pleasure her, tend to her. He slipped a hand behind her, cupping her ass cheek in his palm and then moved it down between her legs from behind, feeling the gushing wetness of her hole filled up with his cock.



Nichole leaned forward again, arching her back and her ass outward a bit and Morgan quickly caught on that she wanted him to finger her asshole again. She whispered to him to lay back on the sofa and he held her down on his cock as he obliged, resting his head on a throw pillow. She then instructed him to spread his legs apart, and as she arched her ass to accommodate him, she reached behind her, between his legs, and eagerly made contact with his asshole. He moaned and raised up as best he could, spreading his legs, as they both fingered each others’ assholes while she slowly rode his fat little cock.



Morgan began to thrust a bit faster, edging closer.



“Does it feel good, sir?” she teased.



“God, yes, baby…”



“Do you like fucking me, sir?”



“I love fucking you…your pussy is so tight and sweet…oh, god...”



“Can I share a secret with you, sir?”



More teasing. She could’ve probably told him she’s really a man and right that second he wouldn’t have cared; her pussy felt exquisite, her finger in his asshole felt exquisite, and her tight ass gripping his middle finger felt exquisite. There wasn’t much she could say that he wouldn’t truly find delicious.



“Yes, baby…tell me anything…just don’t stop fucking my cock.”



“I won’t sir…I love fucking your cock…” she emphasized it with a quicker, harder thrust. His hand squeezed her fleshy thigh. Nichole lowered down on top of him, her nipples grazing his chest, her mouth against his ear and she shared with him her secret at just the right moment.



Morgan heard it, it began to register, and the idea of it drove him mad with lust. He pushed his finger deep into her asshole, causing her to squeal, at the same time he wrapped his arm around her waist and thrust himself up, harder and deeper into her. Against his judgment, he could not stop…the idea overtook him and he fucked the young woman furiously, like a crazed madman, and she fucked his prick right back, digging her nails into his shoulders, both moaning and grunting with pleasure until they slammed hard into a violent orgasmic rush.



When it subsided, she fell onto him to catch her breath. Morgan Styles shook his head at the whole experience, trying to make sense of it all, unsure, but unable to unwrap his arms from around her naked flesh. His cock still buried inside her, and she, nestling against him, wiggling her little pussy the way she would, was a sensation Morgan did not want to ever end.



But her secret…that was the one thing he hadn’t counted on and he wasn’t sure how knowing it would change everything. So far, Miss Thomas did not seem the least bit fazed — probably because it was her secret all along — but she lay atop him, still draining his cum from her satiated hole onto his mount, both of them drenched in sweat. She seemed quite pleased with herself, and with him. In spite of himself — and her secret — he genuinely did not want her to move. He felt warm peace having her close against him this way. Who knows how much longer it would last.



Demurely, her melodic voice kindly disrupted his contemplation.



“Tell me what you’re thinking about, sir…”



He should’ve anticipated that, such a typically female question. This time, he understood exactly why she was inspired to ask, even though he was sure she gathered by the way he’d lost control to the point he had to fuck her as hard as he did, that he was okay with it on some level, at least. Truth be told, the idea of it electrified him. That’s why he lost control in pure lustful indulgence. He couldn’t help himself. His cock had never been so hard.



“I’m thinking you’re one naughty little lady.”



Squeezing his soft dick from the inside, she giggled playfully and replied, “You can spank me if you like, sir…any time.”



“How long have you had this little secret of yours, might I ask?”



Morgan remained calm, not entirely sure he was prepared for an answer, but he knew damn well he needed one, and in a hurry.



Nichole raised up and looked into his eyes, bracing herself with both hands on his chest since his body covered most of the sofa.



“Are you angry?”



Was he? She’d sprang it on him under false pretenses…during a contrived sexual encounter…but then, he could see why she chose the route she did. Truthfully, no…he wasn’t mad, at least about that part, and told her so. But that secret, that was one he hadn’t anticipated. Worse, she was well aware of his reaction to it. He couldn’t deny it.



“I’m not sure how I feel, my dear. It wasn’t anything I’d been prepared for. And my own reaction…well, that may be a delicate matter.”



“I understand. I apologize for misleading you. If you’d prefer that I go away, I will.”



Nichole began to raise up, but Morgan Styles wrapped his arms around her and shook his head.



“No…not at all, I don’t want you to go anywhere. We’ll obviously have to talk shortly. No way around it, now.”



“Sir, do I still have my job as your assistant?”



A fair and legitimate question under the circumstances. She knew that his answer would be his real truth, if nothing else…and she would respond accordingly.



After a bit of a pause, Morgan felt his cock stiffen and twitch with a spasm at the thought; how wet, warm, and luscious she felt. The secret, now their secret, the very idea of it was a kinky turn on…but the reality of it — that may be another matter entirely. Clearly, his prick relished the entire idea of it and had no problem at all. Morgan Styles had revealed himself in that.



“I won’t fire you, Nichole. But I will understand if you should choose to quit. With severance pay, of course.” It was still a generous offer.



“Do you want me to quit?” She asked, suddenly uncertain.



Morgan answered honestly:



“No, no, dear. I hope you will stay indefinitely. You’ve not even gotten started with the real job.” He popped her playfully on an ass cheek.



“But, I’m not sure how to handle this situation.”



Feeling at ease, Nichole heaved a sigh, eased up and kissed her kind and understanding, aging boss on the lips. “Thank you, sir.”



“Whatever will we do for an encore, Miss Thomas? This one seems to have outdone everything I would’ve ever come up with.”



Nichole smiled and kissed him again. This time, Morgan kissed her back tenderly and lovingly. It wasn’t half bad, he told himself. It may take getting used to, though he’d been used to it for years.



He had to admit, he absolutely loved fucking the girl, and the way she’d handled herself all along was most impressive. Her little cunt felt amazing, her sweet mouth around his dick felt amazing, and she’s definitely a beautiful young woman. He knew he would love to fuck her again and again, as often as she was of a mind for. The more he considered it, the more aroused he got…kissing her with more passion, finally taking another chance and slipping his tongue into her mouth.



With eager acceptance, Nichole gently swirled her tongue around his and slowly began to writhe herself against him, feeling his hardness grow.



“I don’t know, sir…but I look forward to it…” she confessed.



Morgan’s fat, stubby prick thickened up as she wiggled herself around him. He loved the way she squeezed her cunt around his dick…it drove him crazy with desire. In fact, he mused, it made him feel…owned.



Nichole nestled against him, beginning a slow, grinding thrust, fully intending to get his cock ready for another round. She seemed to take genuine delight in having his prick stuffed inside as often as possible.



“All I know is that I want to be yours, for you to do with me however you please. I know you want me, too, sir…I know I’ve pleased you.”

Gradually, Morgan felt himself begin to fuck her ever so slowly, his cock throbbing to pound her tight little hole with fury. His hands moved back to her tits and squeezed.



“You do want me, don’t you?



“Of course I do. I would be a fool if I didn’t. A crazy old fool. Wanting you is one thing. Continuing to have you is quite another.”



Gently, but with resolve, she raised up on her knees, sliding off of his dick, using her pussy to ease it down. She stood up, turned around and moved onto her hands and knees, her shapely little ass hovering over his stomach. She lowered down and began to rub her wet pussy across his fatness, stroking his shaft with her fingers.



When she’d heard him moan and reach for her asshole again, she eased forward, away from him — still on hands and knees — to the end of the sofa. She glanced teasingly over her shoulder at him with a naughty smile, and shook her little ass at him.



“I want you to fuck my asshole, sir…”



Morgan moved up on command, a slave to this little lady’s desires, he knew. Up on his knees behind her, gripping his dick in hand to ease it into her tight little anus, he’d reminded her again:



“You don’t need to call me sir, you know…I think we’re long passed that now, don’t you?”



Nichole wiggled closer, wanting to feel it inside her ass, her pussy aching for it. He had a valid point. She would relent and stop calling him sir.



“I want you to fuck my asshole hard…daddy…”



.Five.



The word raced through his head…daddy…somewhere, underneath the kink, the lust, the desire and heat, Morgan Styles still hadn’t fully accepted the truth of it. For the most part, he still wanted to indulge himself in her sweet cunt as long as he could, knowing that once the fire settled, she would probably vanish as mysteriously as she appeared.



For now, Morgan Styles relished the firm snugness of her anus squeezing around him; Nichole’s wiggling ass cheeks grinding closer to take him fully up her ass made his balls tight. He’d never, ever met a woman who actually enjoyed being fucked that way, and now…suddenly all in one afternoon, he had this beautiful woman of his most cherished dreams appear like a vision of splendor, simply adoring everything about him, wrinkles, flab and all…and then begging him to fuck her little ass as hard as he liked.



And actually letting him…



Nichole leaned her chest onto the sofa, ass still arched up, reached behind and took hold of her cheeks in each hand, spreading them apart. Morgan took one look at her pink little hole, and her beautiful pussy slit opened, creaming with cum, and spewed his load right up her asshole.



When she’d felt him spurt the warm liquid, she shoved two fingers into her pussy and fucked herself into another orgasm in seconds.



Morgan leaned over her back and kissed her shoulder with affection, easing his floppy appendage out of her anus.



Creaking knee joints ached as he pushed his tub of fat off of the sofa and stood beside her, watching as she slowly slid her legs flat and lay comfortably on her stomach, a smile of sheer satiation across her lips.



Morgan groaned as the reality he wasn’t 17 shot angrily through his old bones and he shook his head, disgusted all over again that he probably would never really be able to keep up with a woman like Nichole. When her fantasy wore off, she would move on to more sculpted, youthful pastures. He softly padded around the coffee table to leave.



“Where are you off to?” she asked, languidly.



“Men’s room, my dear. To clean up.”



Nichole leaned up on her forearms, gleam in her eye. What youth she still had, precious youth and energy. “You know what I’ve always wanted?” she asked, with hopeful innocence.



“What have you always wanted, love?”



“I’ve always wanted to know what it would be like to take a bath with my father. Can we?” Her eyes sparkled. “We can have that little talk while we wash each other. Wouldn’t that feel gorgeous?”



“My dear, I don’t know if I can cum anymore for you tonight.” Morgan smiled, but was most sincere, though the idea of bathing her was delicious, indeed. The idea of her bathing him, intoxicating.



“You don’t have to cum, sir. We can bathe and talk…together.”



She stood up in front of him and took his pudgy hand in hers. Smiling up at him with all the adoration of a daughter to her father, Morgan knew he’d give her anything she damn well wanted.



He smiled and kissed her forehead.



Nichole helped draw the bath and waited for him to ease into the tub. The water rose nearly to the rim. Fluidly, she stepped in, between his legs, realizing there just wasn’t much room. Still, she wedged into a small space and sat down, facing him. She seemed perfectly at ease with it all.



Morgan simply watched her with appreciation, and closed his eyes as she wet a cloth and began to drain water over his body. It felt so nice, relaxing. He simply indulged as she lathered the cloth with soap and began to wash every inch of him in soothing, loving manner.



When he was rinsed and refreshed, she smiled and handed him the cloth. He spent some time dripping water over her arms and breasts, taking it all in. Finally, Morgan lathered his hands and began to slowly soap her body.



She stood up so he could wash her pussy and ass, and her legs.



Morgan did so with pure pleasure, taking his time to feel her lathered silken flesh against his hands. He especially enjoyed rubbing her soapy little pussy, making sure to fondle her clit and dip his fingertips in her hole.



After he’d washed and rinsed her, Morgan leaned up and began to softly kiss the lips of her youthful little snatch, as if he was kissing his bride on their wedding day. When he stopped, Nichole lowered down and lay back, somewhat awkwardly against his protruding gut. He reached around and clasped his fingers in front of her and for a time, they lay together in calm silence. He truly did not want this moment to end, or ruin it for that matter, but it was time to put things openly on the table.



She’d whispered her secret in his ear and the thought of it, the idea of it, had overtaken him. It had been one of his most cherished sexual fantasies. She’d whispered to him that she wanted him to fuck her the way he would if she was really his young daughter, to imagine her as if she was barely into her teens, needing her daddy. The notion had turned him on beyond measure. He’d surrendered to his baser desires and went with it…revealing his own dark perversions effortlessly at her command.



“I suppose you’re still wondering if it was true or just fantasy?” she’d asked, as if reading his mind.



Morgan nodded, taking for granted she’d not seen him.



“I’ve had this fantasy, this need, since I was a child. I was told my father abandoned us shortly before I was born. I grew up dreaming that one day he would come back, take me with him. I was fourteen when I finally saw him for the first time.”



Nichole gently caressed his prick as she spoke. Morgan closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, surrendering again to her exquisite touch.



“That same afternoon, I happened to look up at him sitting in the chair and saw his penis peeking out through the cuff of his loose swim shorts. I’d known by then what arousal was, and seeing that he was aroused while watching me filled me with overwhelming desire,” she told him, as she traced her thumb over the head of his cock.



“We came so close to experiencing each other that day, but then he left and I never saw him again — well, not until I was twenty six…and then he didn’t even recognize me.”



Morgan felt his heart squeeze. He held her closer, protectively.



“Ever since that afternoon, the only thing driving me through the horrible life I’d been subjected to by my mother and her siblings, had been my cherished wish to find him again, to bring him pleasure, to experience him, to feel him fucking me…and that I could live with him and be his lover.”



“Oh, my dear girl…how awful. I am so terribly sorry. I know it is difficult to grow up without a parent. I can see how that longing was channeled into this naughty fantasy.” He was clumsy with the psychoanalysis and soon realized just how so when she continued her story.



“You don’t understand. I was born in September of seventy eight. My mother was only fifteen years old. She raised me with the help of her older sister and their parents, my grandparents, until I was fourteen. She was in her late twenties by then.”



“That’s when I’d seen my father for the first time — that I remembered, anyway. We’d gone to the lake, had so much fun. My father sat with me in the living room while everyone had gone to get dinner at some takeout place. I thought he was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen and was so happy he’d come back…I knew he would take me away with him forever.”



Morgan’s brow furrowed a bit, his cock twitching in her fingers.



“He sat in a big brown easy chair, still in his swim trunks, with his legs apart. I sat on the floor folding up my beach towel. I could feel him watching me. Then he told me he thought I was quite beautiful. I looked up at him then, elated, and that’s when I’d seen the head of his penis peeking through the shorts. I’d never seen a man’s penis before that moment, and I was mesmerized. I wanted to see more of it. I couldn’t help myself.”



Morgan slowly began to shake his head, feeling something begin to darken. Something wasn’t right…this story was going to get worse.



“I got up and went to him. I climbed into his lap. He looked at me and seemed shocked. His eyes narrowed and he asked what I was doing.”



“Oh…no…” Morgan muttered aloud, closing his eyes tight.



“I told him how much I loved him and how I was so happy that he’d finally come back for me. I guess I got a little carried away but I reached down and slipped my fingers inside the cuff of his shorts. He didn’t seem to mind…and then he smiled and asked me…”



Morgan Styles drew a breath and held it. His mind raced. His body flushed warm. His cock stiffened against her tender caress.



“…so, I slid off him onto the floor, onto my knees and he pushed down his shorts. I’d just opened my mouth when the living room door opened and suddenly my mother was there, and her sister, and my uncle.”



Morgan’s heart pounded…his reality shattering all around him.



“All hell broke loose. My aunt jerked me up and rushed me out of the room, slapping my face a few times. I heard fighting and yelling, things breaking. Then suddenly…he was gone. I didn’t see him again for years.”



When she had gone silent long enough, still easily reclining against him, casually tracing her fingers along his upper thigh, Morgan could only mutter: “That can’t be…” even though he knew all too well…it could.



Swirling pieces dropped hard into place as the recall began to surface more readily. Nichole pulled up and turned around in the water, facing him. She eased her hand between his thighs and took hold of his soft, limp cock.



“You are my father, sir…my mother was Madeline Wilkes. My aunt, I believe you knew, as well…Marla…your late wife.”



Nichole spoke gently and without confrontation in her tone.



“And I’ve always loved and admired you, always needed you, sir.”



Morgan Styles looked at her with utter confusion in his eyes. He remembered the incident quite well, but he had no idea…none at all…that the little girl was his own child.



“How can that be? I’ve never had children! This makes no sense.”



Pieces of his life swirled and dropped into place. Morgan gasped.



“My mother had grown terribly hateful toward me after that day and we began to fight all the time. A few times, she’d told me that she hated me and wished I was never born. It hurt for a long time, and without my father, without you to protect me, she’d sent me away to a boarding school.”



Nichole spoke softly, but still gently. Gauging his response.



“In a letter, one of two I’d ever received from her while away, my mother told me that my aunt Marla said we would all be better off if I was put up for adoption and she had agreed. She said she couldn’t look at me every day knowing that I would do such a thing…that something was wrong with me, that I was an evil girl. They all turned their backs on me.”



“Next thing I knew, there were court hearings and foster homes and finally I was placed with a really nice family for awhile. They changed my name from Nicholette Wilkes to Nichole Thomas. I cried every night, hoping you would come get me, but you never did.”



“Eventually, things became easier and as I neared legal age, I decided I would try to find you. The family had nothing more to do with me. I was twenty six when I’d seen a news story on television and recognized you immediately. That case where you’d defended a father for abducting his daughters…at the end of it, the reporter commented that you had married Marla Wilkes. I couldn’t believe it! I was outraged. I didn’t understand how…”



Nichole stopped and looked at Morgan, whose eyes were still closed. A grimace of pain seared his forehead. Quietly, Morgan pieced together the rest of the story…one that he’d forgotten all about and one that had fueled his dark perversions ever since.



“I’d met Marla in the early seventies. We’d become close and at the time, I felt that I’d loved her. Our relationship had been strong enough and soon I would be introduced to her family, and she to mine. I didn’t look like this back then. I was in much better shape and for a good many years seemed to catch the attention of many ladies…and…many young girls.”



“After Marla and I had wed, her family threw a birthday party for her younger sister. She turned fourteen that year. Everyone had been in a festive mood — Marla’s parents held the lavish event at the Wilkes Estate. The adults used the festivities to network, as had I — many influential people there. Hordes of children all over the place. I suppose the sun and alcohol had gotten too much and I wandered down to the pier, away from the crowd for a bit to clear my head.”



“Soon, I heard lilting laughter darting behind me and when I turned, little Maddy was trying to sneak up on me. She came to sit beside me. She’d always taken a liking to me in a gentle fashion, and told me that her grandfather had bought a new speedboat. She asked if I wanted to see it. In fact, I truly did. I’d always fancied having one of my own. We stood, she took my hand and we ran along to the boathouse. She had matured quickly, though, too much for her own good. In the privacy of the boathouse, she came to me with a proposition to take her virginity.”



“At first, I laughed. It had been absurd, and dangerous…and improper, but as she stood there before me, looking up at me with those blue eyes, I am afraid that I surrendered to my carnal lusts. I deflowered her easily and it was over rather quickly. The reality of my behavior hit full fury and I fled in a panic. She hadn’t told anyone apparently, so eventually, I felt I would be safe and it could pass into history.”



“Several months later, Marla had rushed in the door of our apartment, simply hysterical, and in a state, announced that Maddy was pregnant.. I was fully prepared for the consequences of my actions but as it turned out, young Maddy never pointed to me, never told anyone it had happened. I found myself relieved, of course, greatly relieved, for what I’d done was thoroughly illegal, yet at the same time, I recognized that she did not betray me, she seemed quite adamant of protecting our encounter.”



“I would never know for certain that her child was my offspring, and in time, my doubts about young Maddy surfaced stronger, as Marla would recount many tales of her sister’s lustful escapades. Just the week I’d learned she’d become pregnant, Marla was having a fit about a high school boy sneaking in and out of Maddy’s bedroom. Everyone had seemed satisfied the young boy had been her lover, her child’s father. I thought no more about it.”



“In any case, before she would ever deliver, I had received an offer in Arizona at a law firm. Marla and I shortly moved away. That had been the last of it. Years passed and then in ninety two, we were invited to her brother’s cabin on the lake. We made the trip and for the full of that weekend, we had a lovely time. That was the weekend in question, my dear.”



“I’m afraid that my perversions had crept up on me again once I’d seen you, though I assure you, the exposure of my penis to you had been quite unintentional, as was my sudden, unexpected erection. I could not help myself . Watching you sitting on the floor, leaning over the towel, trying to get it folded perfectly smooth. It occurred to me how beautiful Maddy’s little girl had grown up to be. I’d never seen you before that weekend.”



“I’d not even considered, even remotely, the possibility that you were my own child. The thought never occurred to me. My arousal had erupted in spite of my feeble attempt at restraint. I was quite surprised when you suddenly climbed into my lap, throwing your arms around me.”



“And yes, I do remember the way you positioned yourself quite deliberately over me that way. Yet, when you’d exclaimed how happy you were I’d returned, calling me daddy, your eyes sparkling so exquisitely, I’m afraid I took all leave of my senses and indulged my darkness once again.”



“My head was in such a state, and when you touched me the way you had, well…I did not resist you. I didn’t want to resist. I knew you’d thought I was your father and the idea took me over. I fell into this indulgence willingly…asking you…asking you to do that to me.”



“It caused an enormous row, of course, and in the end, Marla had made sure to strangle the life out of me, well deserved, nevertheless. I’d only heard small portions of things over the years, but I had no idea that Maddy had cast you aside so cruelly. It wasn’t your fault, my dear…it was mine, and shameful. Moreso, as I had made many attempts since to relive it.”



“Needless to say, I was never permitted to participate any further in their family gatherings. What I’d done destroyed my relationship with Marla, of course, and while she rightfully refused to tend to my needs as a husband, I’m afraid that she gave me a rich ultimatum that included doing anything she demanded, or she would expose my actions. She’d had me under her blackmailing thumb for the next two decades. I could not afford by that time to have any of it surface and so I obliged my angry, vengeful wife, only finding some semblance of freedom after her passing.”



Nichole’s eyes blazed at the mention of the woman.



“I hated aunt Marla for what she did. It was because of her that you went away, and it was because of her that my own mother discarded me. When I knew she was dead, I felt nothing but relief.”



Morgan tilted his head curiously.



“How did you know she had passed away?”



“Seven years ago in two more months. When I’d seen you on the news that day, I took it upon myself to keep up with you. I wanted to see you again. I’d been at the Life For A Life rally. I approached you and said hello. You smiled and shook my hand, but you didn’t recognize me. You’re the reason I moved to the Cove. I wanted to meet you again…to know you, but I’d never managed to find an opportunity until I’d seen your ad.”



“I am astonished. My dear, I had no idea at all! I don’t know what to say…I am so very sorry for all of this anguish you’ve gone through…”



Morgan glanced down and caught sight of Nichole’s hardened nipples when the full reality of the afternoon came over him in a tidal wave.



“Oh…my dear god…” he’d said in a breath. “What have we done?”



Nichole’s eyes began to water at the implication.



“Do you regret this now?” she asked him, hurt welling to tears.

Morgan shook his head in despair and discomfort. The damage had been done. He’d expected he had simply indulged fetish and fantasy. The reality he’d actually fucked his daughter hit him like a freight train.



That changed everything.



“I don’t know what to say…fantasy is one thing, and I readily admit that I have had some unsavory experience with young girls that could ruin me, and that it has been successfully capped in mere fantasy since then, but I thought you had been sharing a fantasy. I confess that I surrendered to lust and indulged us both. But the knowledge that I have had intercourse with my own flesh and blood…I don’t know what to say to that…”



“Do you regret this now?” She asked him again, more directly.



Lowering his eyes, unable to look at her this time said plenty. He shook his head again, unable to answer, unsure how he even felt about this. Her story was tragic, his was deviant and unlawful, but this…this he had done, even though he hadn’t the knowledge…this was deranged.



And still, he sat fully naked in the bath with his own daughter…his now grown daughter who had deceived and seduced him within 24 hours. Now the desire he’d felt was swiftly being replaced with guilt, fear, and shame. How could he do such a distasteful thing?



The water had turned cold, as had the mood. Nichole heaved a sigh and gripped the rims of the tub, pulling herself up. Morgan looked up at her, his eyes scanning the full length of her body, the water droplets rolling down her legs. She stepped out and reached for a thick green towel, dried herself and set it down on a bath chair, all in silence. She wasn’t mad; she was hurt and once again cast aside.



Without looking back, and without a word, Nichole walked out of the bathroom and closed the door behind her.



A short time later, Morgan appeared in the living room, now wearing a knee length white bathrobe and slippers. Nichole was fully dressed, sitting primly on the sofa edge. She did not raise her eyes to meet him. Instead, she continued staring at an inch of a swirl on an ornate Navajo rug and told him she needed to get back to pick up her car. She was tired.



He sat down beside her, deflating the cushion with his weight. Pacing his words, he gently offered:



“Nichole, I am uncertain right now what to say, or how to adapt to what’s happened between us. This morning, you were my beautiful assistant. This afternoon, you were my fantasy lover. This evening, all of that changed and now I am faced with this reality that not only have I had a child all these years, I’ve also had sexual relations with my flesh and blood. I feel betrayed and deceived, but I truly understand your motivation. I find it difficult to be upset with you, regardless…but this is a serious predicament for us both.”



“Yes, sir…I understand. I should be getting home.”



“Now, now…” Morgan replied, placing his hand on top of her leg, “no need to regress to the sirs…we’re most certainly beyond that sort of formality.” Briefly, he reflected on the irony of this familiar exchange. When she remained silent, Morgan heaved a sigh and told her he would be a minute to get dressed, then he would return her to the office for her car.



Just as he began to move his hand away, she placed hers on top of it to stop him. When she looked up finally, her sparkling blue eyes appeared hazed with tears. The sight of it squeezed his heart. He smiled thinly at her.



“I need you to tell me if you regret this…please.” she said pleadingly. “I just need to know.”



He still held her gaze and slowly shook his head.



“No, Nichole. As shameful as it is, I do not regret what’s happened. Perhaps we both needed it to happen in our own individual ways, for different reasons. Perhaps it would be a form of closure and heal–”



“I don’t want closure,” she snapped back. “I don’t need closure!I want you in my life, just as we were today, loving each other. Don’t you understand? I know exactly what this is, I’m not stupid. I know it’s twisted and I know it’s taboo, and I don’t care. I can be your daughter and your lover. We can take care of one another and build a real life together. I can keep it a secret, obviously…but it would be our own secret.”



She pulled his hand a bit higher on her thigh. He was unwittingly not the least bit reluctant. “I know I pleased you…I could feel how aroused you were all day long. I know you enjoyed it all, every second. None of it has to change because you know who I really am now. It just doesn’t.



She let go of his hand as she turned on the seat, facing him more directly. Gazing into his eyes as she’d done all along, with pure devotion, Nichole reached across and tugged at his bathrobe enough until it pulled open down the front, and then deliberately took his cock in her hand, gently massaging it. “I know this feels good to you…and you know it.”



He continued looking at her, cracking ever so briefly as the feel of her warm hands on his shaft gave way to forbidden pleasure.



As she massaged him, not to his surprise, his cock began to stiffen at her touch. Nichole stood up and stepped in front of him, and then eased onto her knees between his open legs. This time she looked up at him with desire, with adoration, with need, holding his stubby dick in both hands (though she only needed one). “Ask me again…” she’d told him.



“Ask me again what you did that day after the lake…ask me to do that for you.”



“Nichole…” Morgan began to shake his head. “Don’t do this, my dear…you don’t have to.” His fingers brushed through her hair, down her cheek and lifted her chin toward him.



“Ask me…” she insisted, her eyes loving, tear filled, and pleading.



He couldn’t deny his arousal inside her talented hands. Even if he told her no, she would know he was lying…his own cock was betraying him. Somewhere, his body had yet to connect to the reality of the situation. He found her exquisitely enticing in spite of himself.



“Do it…” she said more firmly, slowly stroking the shaft.



Morgan faltered and leaned back. Caressing her smooth cheek, he relented once again to her desires.



“Wouldn’t you love to give daddy’s penis a little kiss?”



Saying the words caused his cock to twitch upright involuntarily.



The smile that came across her lips was pure delight. She had won. She lowered her head and brushed her lips across his cock head, closing her eyes, and began to kiss and caress his cock with loving devotion. No licking, no sucking. She simply kissed every inch of it, long sensual kisses as she would his lips. He was touched by this gesture and realized that she adored him as her father enough to want his happiness, his pleasure…she loved him.



Finally, somebody did.



That reality cracked through his reluctance to indulge such a deviant relationship and for the first time, Morgan Styles found himself contemplating and rationalizing as he watched his beautiful little girl, now a grown woman, tending to his most intimate member with nothing but exquisite love and devotion. He couldn’t help feel ever more drawn in to her, truly appreciating that she cherished him enough to do all of this for him.



That’s my girl…” he whispered, not quite realizing it until he heard it, and when he did, he realized that he felt more at ease with the notion than he’d expected he should feel.



“That’s it…kiss daddy’s cock…mmm yes, that feels amazing.”



The words flowed easier than he’d thought they would’ve, as if saying it out loud would make the deviance lessen.



Morgan Styles breathed a bit harder, once again surrendering to his darker perversion.



Lifting her chin a bit, when she looked up at him questioningly, yet smiling, Morgan couldn’t help himself.



“You are so beautiful, my dear. I feel that I am too much at the mercy of your sexuality and desire to truly say no to you. I would be a bold liar to tell you that I did not enjoy being inside you, or that I did not enjoy the pleasure you gave me.”



He heaved a sigh and smiled lovingly at her, and once and for all, Morgan Styles fully relented.



Nichole licked slowly up his shaft and twirled her tongue around the head of his dick, looking up into his eyes and smiling as she did so.



“It is a strange situation we’re in…knowing now that you’re my flesh and blood, my only daughter…” he continued, breathing deeper in pleasure as he watched her teasing his cock so perfectly. He was truly amazed he was even able to get hard this many times, let alone cum as much as he had.



“…but, truth be told, I have truly enjoyed fucking your hot little pussy today. You are an outstanding lover…”



Nichole smiled up at him. A single delicate tear snaked her cheek.



“I am proud of you as my little girl, my daughter…and I would be honored to also take you as my lover, my mate…and baby girl, we can fuck as often as you desire…under one condition.” Morgan smiled, teasingly.



Nichole sat up, her eyes questioning, licking languidly up his shaft.



“I know,” she grinned sweetly. “Stop calling you sir…”



Morgan laughed out loud and thumbed away the streak of wetness on her cheek.



“Well, there is that…but I want you to come home, to live here with me, to sleep in my bed. I want us to take baths together, give pleasure to one another. To live openly as lovers. And before you ask, of course you can continue as my personal assistant if you prefer. I want to give you all the love I missed out on throughout your life. I want to kiss your lips, worship your sweet pussy, fall asleep with my cock in your mouth. I want you to be mine, always. I would be honored to be your father and your lover.”



She was stunned and elated. In a graceful hurry, Nichole undressed herself and stood fully naked before him, then leaned down and pushed open his bathrobe, helping him take it off. She climbed onto his lap, straddling him, positioning her bare pussy directly on top of his dick and pressed her nakedness against his stomach.



As his fingers brushed through her hair, Nichole leaned up and began to kiss her father seductively, teasing his lips with her tongue, twirling and tracing it along his own. Her cunt was as wet as always and the silken feel of it made his cock throb. Kissing became more hungry and passionate, lust filled, but they didn’t stop. Morgan lifted her up, stood, and then lay her onto her back across the sofa.



“This is how daddy likes to fuck his little girl…” he’d teased, slipping easily now into the reality he’d always fantasized about. He parted her knees and lay over her, holding himself up by his forearms.



“Now, daddy’s going to eat that sweet young little pussy I’ve missed out on your whole life….sweet, sweet little cunt.”



Morgan heaved his weight onto the sofa as Nichole threw her legs over his shoulders and began running her fingers through his thinning dark and gray hair. Morgan no longer considered the wrongfulness of it all, only the deviance and his most cherished fantasy he could finally indulge.



All he wanted to do was absorb her, baby girl or not…and with a leering, dirty grin, Morgan Styles led into her aching pussy and began lapping at it in long strokes of his tongue, tugging and pulling at her clit, sucking it in. God, how sweet she was. Between licks, sometimes muffled, Morgan had begun to let go — to really let go — of the dark arousal intoxicating his mind.



“Oh, yes mmm…I love my sweet little girl’s cunt.. Do you like that” He tugged her clit. She grinned and wiggled closer. “Mmm, take daddy’s fingers…” as he slid three inside her sloshing wet cunt and began to thrust them hard and deep, sucking her clit into his mouth. His prick ached for her.



“Yes, daddy…mmmm…I love you….” she giggled sweetly.



“Mmm…baby…I need to be inside you…god, you’re an amazing little girl…” Morgan sucked her clit long and hard, pulling his fingers out of her hole and offering them to her, which she readily took into her mouth. He groaned, absently stroking his dick as he watched. She reached down and guided his stubby, but thoroughly happy little prick into her aching pussy and Morgan Styles shoved it in deep, causing her to squeal and giggle.



“Ahh, you like daddy’s hard cock inside you?”



Nichole grinned with pleasure, “Oh, daddy…yes! I love how you fuck me, don’t stop!” She pumped her ass off the sofa to meet his thrust.



This time, Morgan gave it his all, pounding that red little hole as hard as he could, the slapping of his tubby belly against her thin, flat abdomen was ridiculously loud but she didn’t care. She was getting him the way she’d wanted for years…hot for her, hard as a steel, and stuffing her full of his cock.



She pulled her knees to her chest and Morgan lifted her ass in both hands to give himself ample thrusting power, slamming her hole with all his strength. He shoved it in deep, circling his hips, grinding into her even harder. Swirling through his mind was the thought…I’m fucking my little girl…I have a daughter and she’s exquisite…and I’m fucking her little cunt…amazing!



Morgan wrapped his pale, flabby arms around her tiny frame, squeezing her close against him. Nichole moaned and purred as she suckled his dangling man tit in her mouth, gently biting his nipple.



God, she was so slick and wet.



“Oh, my sweet little girl, such heaven.”



Morgan thrust deeper, rolling himself into her, perversion echoing through his head, and unloaded one last scant drizzle of cum into his daughter’s eager pussy, his arms trembling from orgasm and the strain of holding himself up above her. Before they gave out and he toppled hard on her — quite possibly suffocating her — Morgan Styles hoisted himself up, with her clutched in his arm and turned to his back, gently laying her on top of him instead. The bulbous round of his gut forced his stringy cock out of her exquisite cunt and she whimpered softly before cuddling up against him.



What a most peculiar day, Morgan mused, his fat fingers tracing the gentle ridge of her spine. No more rationalizing. What’s done is done, and frankly, he saw no reason why this wouldn’t be a most perfect solution to his life — and hers. He smiled and stroked her long blond locks, barely hearing her tiny whisper against his neck…



“I love you, daddy…and I want to please you…always.”



“You’ve made an old man incredibly happy and fulfilled, my dear.”



Morgan Styles smiled again — he would probably be smiling until he dropped dead — and said the words he knew rang somewhat hollow, but it was a pleasure to get used to it all the same.



“I love you, too, my dear.”



And as she nestled against him, draining wetness onto his thigh, Morgan Styles inhaled deeply, smiled to himself, and closed his eyes.



.Six.



Some time later, a rustle of something coarse brushed against his stomach and Morgan flinched in his sleep. He stirred momentarily but relaxed as he felt flesh graze against his testicles. A quiet, distant awareness that his little girl’s insatiable appetites may well kill him before his next birthday settled into a welcome smile.



A few seconds later, he felt his squat little prick stiffen at the cool wetness suddenly enveloping it. Morgan moaned quietly, shifting his weight a bit to allow her perfect little mouth better access. The way she adored his cock was something he’d never experienced before. He breathed deeply, his large slab of weight more relaxed than it’d been in years.



Cool wetness suddenly became deep, firm sucking. A little jarring but nothing he didn’t get over soon enough. He could imagine how she looked, hungry for his dick, and loved the very thought of waking up to her sweet blow jobs every morning, though he would have to tell her to tread gently when he’s sleeping. He smiled at how much he had to teach her, too.



Deep, firm sucking suddenly became rapid bobbing. Sharp nails dug into his thigh. Morgan Styles winced a little and inhaled a short, quick breath. He wasn’t sure what she was doing down there, but feeling her wet mouth on him at all was delightful. He decided he was almost certainly a little raw from having that much sex in one day — when, truth be told, he’d not had any sex in years and he sorely needed it.



Morgan found himself recalling the trip back from Flag, how she teased him the way she had, how she’d sucked his cock right there on the side of the highway. Bobbing gave way to long, deep sucks, a little harder than before. A little disconcerting. He felt her fingers graze across his testicles — less gracefully than before, but it was still nice and Morgan ever so gradually began to thrust into her wanton mouth. She began to suck him harder, tugging at it. He drifted back to the side of the road, imagining the sweet head he was getting and how amazing it felt.



Morgan muttered softly: “Lovely girl.” He spread his legs apart, the outer one dropping off the edge of the sofa, bracing his foot on the floor.



“Finger daddy’s asshole. Mmm…you’ve got me so hard, baby.”



This time, she didn’t oblige. She continued slurping hard on his prick though, and Morgan accepted that she wasn’t in the mood. She seemed quite eager for it, making such noise this time. The reality that he’d discovered his daughter and fucked her again and again flooded back to his sleepy thoughts. He drifted again, remembering how she arched her pert little ass up at him, spreading her cheeks, begging him to fuck her asshole. God how tight it was.



Morgan was coming awake with arousal, he could feel the cum swirling in his balls, the ache racing through his flesh as she bobbed and sucked hard on his prick. “Mmm….ahhh, yes….that’s it…suck daddy’s cock…” he muttered again, tilting his head back to indulge. Love daddy’s cock…”



With another few tugs, a little harder than was comfortable, and this time definite teeth scraping, in spite of himself, Morgan Styles erupted another load of cum into her mouth in rapturous spurts. Over his own heaving breath, he vaguely heard a muffled cough, sort of a hack…brief…and though his eyes were closed, he could tell she’d moved away.



The sound of clanking glass nearby jolted Styles fully awake. The haze of sleep wore off easily, though he was groggy and a little disoriented. He was alone on the sofa, naked and spent, but quite satiated. Rubbing his eyes, squinting away sleep, Morgan Styles glanced absently at her approaching from his right and turned his face to greet his lovely angel with a smile.



“I was wondering where you went,” he said as he struggled to pull himself upright, “…leaving daddy all alo–” the words died in his throat.



What the fuck?



Towering above him stood the lanky Lena Gilbert, staring down at him with a lustful glint in her eye that made his cock shrivel into his rib cage.



“What the…what are you doing here? How did you get in here? he grunted, confusion swirling, absently reaching for his bathrobe to cover himself, but the robe was not there. Morgan Styles grabbed a throw pillow instead and pulled it across his groin, disgusted and outraged by this woman’s incomprehensible refusal to take no for an answer.



And where was Nichole? His baby girl?



Lena cocked her head to the side and smiled adoringly at him. The scratchy, hoarse drawl oozed from her thin, wrinkled lips as she set a glass onto the dark wood coffee table. Morgan followed it with his gaze, then looked up at her again, his brow furrowing, his body suddenly chilled.



“Oh, Morgan, don’t you dare start fussing at me, now.” she retorted. “I had to go rinse my mouth out, thank you very much. You know, you could’ve warned me before you blasted me in the mouth with that mess.”

After I awoke in the morning with Kelly still on top of me, I just lay there enjoying the feeling. Kelly sure was an incredible beauty.



I started to think about what it would be like to be with her every day. But then I remembered, she was married and only mine for this weekend. That was a fantasy killer. Even still, it would be wonderful to be able the hold her, kiss her and make love to her every day.



My hands were on her back and gently rubbing her soft skin. So smooth and warm. It was fantastic to pretend she was mine.



A few minutes of rubbing and Kelly started to wake. I loved watching her slowly come back to life. Her hand came up and rubbed her eyes. Then she seemed to realize where she was and lifted her head to look at me. “Morning. How long you been awake,” she asked?



“Just long enough to enjoy the view.”



“What view? The top of my head?”



“Much better than what I would have seen in my bed.”



Kelly leaned her head to me and kissed me. “Thank you!” She lay her head back down for a few seconds. “Are you up for a shower?”



“Well, I’m not up… ” I flexed my hips upward on the word up, “… yet but I could be.”



Kelly lifted her head to look at me and said, “You’re bad.” Then she kissed me.



“It isn’t all my fault you know.”



“So whose fault is it?”



“Yours of course. Well yours and Darrel’s. If it hadn’t been for you, I would have been safely tucked into my bed.”



“Are you complaining?”



“Not a complaint, just an observation.”



Kelly laughed then sat up. She pushed the comforter back and climbed off me. As she hit the floor, she bent over a bit and I looked at the lower half of her body. She reached between her legs, hooked her fingers into the leg openings of her panties and pulled on the material to straighten the panty between her legs. Her stockings were still mostly up on her legs but they were wrinkled and dishevelled. “Look, you still haven’t completely unwrapped your present yet.”



“Give me time. You shouldn’t rush me you know.”



“If you don’t come now, I’ll do it for you.”



“We can’t have that.” I swung my legs off the side of the bed and onto the floor. Kelly turned and headed to the bathroom. She went to the tub and leaned over to turn on and adjust the water temperature. What a sight. Her long legs topped off with perfect ass. The T bar panties stretched tight along her ass and over her pussy.



My cock was responding to the beautiful sight. I walked up behind her and put my cock head between her legs. With my hands were on her hips, I started to hump her. “Stop that or we’ll never get into the shower.”



“Stop what? Are you feeling something?” I joked.



Kelly’s hand came back and quickly swatted my hip. I did not move away. She stood and pulled the shower curtain closed as she turned on the shower.



She turned to me and said, “Now it’s time to finish the unwrapping.” I dropped to my knees. Her pussy was just about head level. I could smell the combination of our sexes. It was intoxicating. My hands were on her hips and I slowly pushed the waist band of her panties down. The top of her landing strip came into view. I leaned forward and kissed her stomach and my tongue then brushed the curly hairs. Lower the panties went. My tongue went lower as well.



Soon the top of her slit was under my tongue. I pushed my tongue into the slit and touched the side of her clit. Kelly grabbed my head and held me there. Her legs opened a little and she leaned back a bit. I was able to suck her clit between my lips. Kelly reacted by groaning and pulling my head deeper into her pussy. My hands moved her panties to the floor. As I brought my hands up, I rubbed her legs. When I got to the top of her stockings, I moved one hand between her legs. Kelly moved one foot sideways and my fingers found her wet pussy. Quickly I moved the tips of my fingers between her hot lips and my middle finger hit its mark. I pushed it up and inside of her. I held her clit in my lips and used my tongue to flick the tip of the little bud.



Kelly started to hump my face. A groan came from her throat. She was ready to explode again. I had never been with a woman who could cum so fast.



As the orgasm washed over her, her knees buckled a little. With my free hand, I reached around her and pulled her in close to steady her. Kelly’s body was quaking and shaking again.



After a few seconds, I felt Kelly straighten her legs and stand on her own. I released her and looked up. “Oh Richard, you’re incredible. I’ve never cum so many times in my life.”



“Thank you. I don’t think I’ve ever had the opportunity to make someone come so much.”



“Well I could never tell. You feel like an expert to me.”



I pulled my hand out from between her legs and moved to the top of her stocking. My other hand went to the outside and together, they started to peel the stocking down. It was a little stuck as it had been on her leg for so long. It yielded though and I was able to move the stocking down to her foot. Kelly stepped out of her panties and I removed the stocking. “Here, I’ll take that,” she said. I handed it up to her. I then repeated the actions on the other leg.



As Kelly took the stocking, I picked up her panties. They were soaked. “You better put those in the sink. Oh! Better yet, give them to me and I’ll take them into the shower. I’ll quickly wash them there.” With that, Kelly turned, pulled back the curtain, I handed her the lingerie and she disappeared into the shower. I went to the toilet and started to pee. “Are you coming? A girl can get lonely in here.”



“I’ll be right in. I have to pee. Unless you want me to do it in there!”



“No, it’s alright. You can do it out there.”



When I finished, I climbed into the shower. Just as I did, Kelly was wringing out her panties and then she flipped them over the curtain rod to join the stockings.



She turned to me and asked, “So what do you think now that you’ve finally unwrapped your present?”



“I couldn’t be happier. You are absolutely stunning. Your body is fantastic.”



She stepped over and put her arms around my neck. Her boobs were flattened against my chest. “Thank you Richard. I’m so glad we’ve had this time together. You are an incredible lover.” Kelly then kissed me.



My cock quickly responded and started to grow. I could feel her nipples harden against my chest. The tip of my cock scrapped up along her thighs as it grew. Kelly opened her legs and trapped my cock. I forced one hand between us and found her tit. It felt even better wet. Kelly started to move her hips so her thighs were stroking my cock. A few seconds later, she opened her legs and my cock rose so the shaft lay along her pussy. She closed her legs again trapping me against her.



I moved my other hand down to her bum. I found that crease line at the junction of her legs and butt cheeks and started to move my finger tips along the crease. I love this crease as it always leads to a woman’s most sensitive parts.



Leaning to the side a bit but I found the back of her pussy. She was hot and her outer lips were soft and puffy. I moved back out a little and my fingers found her anus. After running my fingers around the tight opening, I pushed in a bit. Kelly went stiff but did not complain. My finger tip was being lubed by the water flow. I pulled it out and pushed in again. This time, I felt her bum relax just a bit and let my finger go in a little deeper. I was in up to the first joint. Out kisses became deeper. I pulled out my finger and went back in again. This time, I was in up to the knuckle.



“Oh Richard, I’ve never had this before. It feels different but nice.” We continued to kiss as I slowly moved my finger out and then in again. Each time I went in, I went a little deeper. Soon I had my whole finger in her ass.



This being her first time, I moved slowly so she could relax. I also pulled back on my cock so it would rub her pussy lips. I figured if she thought about her pussy, she wouldn’t think about her ass. I was right and I felt her ass muscles relax completely. I could not reach any further without falling over so I just tried to make her cum again.



It wasn’t long before I was rewarded with her shaking and quaking. Her orgasm was powerful and I had to hold her tight to keep her from falling. Kelly sure could cum quickly. I liked that. I liked the feeling of bring pleasure to my lover.



As she started to calm down, I slowly turned us in the tub so Kelly was at the end away from the shower. We kissed and hugged. The warm water on my back felt great.



When she had recovered, I broke the kiss and gently turned her so she was facing the end wall. With one arm around her waist, I place my other hand between her shoulders and gently pushed forward. Her hands came up and she put them on the wall. Kelly was bent at about a 45 degree angle from the waist up.



My hand went to my cock and I aimed the tip for her bum. It landed between her soft firm cheeks. I slowly started to lower the tip enjoying the incredible sensation of her soft skin.



I felt her tense as the tip neared her butt hole. With the stimulation I had given it, I could understand. But I had a lower target in mind and kept sliding down.



As I rounded her cheeks, I pushed forward and my tip found the back part of her outer lips. They were still hot and soft. Pushing forward slowly, the lips yielded. The opening to her hidden treasure offered very little resistance as I slowly entered her. I could feel the muscle band yield to my pressure. The big head entered her and the muscles tightened around the shaft. I held still and just savored the sensation of being inside.



I brought my hands up and cupped each breast. Her nipples were between my fingers and I closed my fingers trapping the hard little buds. Kneading her breasts with my hands, I was able to pull on the nipples as I played with the firm flesh.



Again, this was too much for Kelly as I felt her start to cum.



This time I didn’t want to be left out so I pushed into her pussy deeper. I know I touched her G spot as Kelly let out an, “Oh My God” as I pushed in.



It took maybe four or five thrusts before I was in all the way. Her nipples were still trapped between my fingers and I pulled on them as I worked her breasts. The first wave of her orgasm washed over her body.



Quickly I started to pump her pussy. I wanted to be there with her and feel her pussy quiver around my cock as I came.



A few more thrusts and Kelly was completely in her orgasm. I felt her knees weaken. She pushed against the wall to steady herself against me. I was pumping into her as fast as I could.



Her orgasm started to subside before I came. It was maybe 15 more seconds before I felt my balls signalling they were ready. At this point, I didn’t care.. I pushed in hard and held still as my juice shot out and penetrated deep into her. This caused Kelly to have another orgasm. The feeling of my cum shooting deep inside of her brought it on. We both stood there and rested as the incredible sensations relaxed.



Kelly straightened up and started to turn to me. I pulled my softening cock out of her. Facing me now, she put her arms around my neck again and we kissed. It was a slow leisurely kiss, so satisfying and enjoyable.



After a few seconds, I felt her shiver. “Wow! Let me under the water will ya? It’s cold at this end.” Still hugging, we turned so she was under the water.



Kelly let go of my neck. She stepped backward, leaned her head back and the water cascaded over her head. It was erotic watching the water stream through her hair and over her face.



I picked up a bar of soap and reached forward. The bar in one hand and the other empty. Starting at the front of her shoulders, I rubbed the bar around and made a little foam. The water spray was working against me. But what the heck. I switched the bar to the other hand and rubbed the foam into her skin. Kelly lifted her head and smiled at me. “That feels so good.”



With encouragement like that, I continued. Her breasts were next. I paid particular attention to her nipples. Luckily, by lifting her head, the water spray was now mainly in her back and the foam lasted longer. Her stomach was next, then her lower abdomen.



As I got to her landing strip, my hand was now upside-down with my finger pointed to our feet. I moved the bar of soap to the strip and lathered it up. My free hand took over and I worked the whole area much more than was needed to make it clean. Mind you, I didn’t receive any complaints.



Slowly I moved my hand lower. Kelly opened her legs and let my hand slowly slide over her sex. She was still soft and puff and hot. My fingers easily entered her lips and I washed and manipulated her. It was easy to tell when she was clean but I didn’t stop. One finger at a time entered her and then withdrew. I had never had this much enjoyment in a shower before.



“You know Richard, if you don’t stop soon, I just might cum again.”\



“And your point is?” We laughed. “Ok, if you insist. Turn and give me your back.” Pulling my hand out, she turned.



Starting on her shoulders I worked my way down making sure I worked her breasts from behind as I went. Her buns also received special attention. Somehow, my fingers found her bum hole again and just as I started to work my way in, she said, “You like my bum don’t you.”



“Such a beautiful bum. I think it needs some special attention.”



“Well that would be a first for me. No one has every shown an interest if it like you have before.”



“What a shame. Well maybe I will have to introduce you to the pleasures it can give you.”



“Pleasures? From my bum?”



“Yupp. If you learn to trust me and relax, it can be fun for the both of us.”



“Really! Well I do trust you. I will have to learn the relax part I guess.”



“Well you did earlier. I don’t think you realized it though.”



“I did? No! I didn’t realize.”



“Ok, turn to me and give me your leg.” Kelly turned. She put on hand on the curtain rod and the other on the wall. She lifted her leg and held it at about my hip. Quickly I soaped up both hands, turned slightly and starting at her toes, I rubbed both sides of her leg at the same time. Higher and higher I went. Past her knee, up her thighs right to her bum cheek with one hand and her pussy with the other. My fingers found her softness again and started to stroke her.



“Stop that! I might want to cum again.”



“Spoil sport! Just as I was having fun.”



Kelly put her leg down. “Besides, I can’t stand here all day with my leg up. It hurts after a while.” She stood there for a bit then her other leg came up. “Hurry now.” I quickly soaped up and repeated the leg washing motions.



“Ok! My turn,” Kelly said. “Turn around for me.” I turned. Kelly started at my shoulders and soaped and massaged her way down my back. It felt incredible. Her hand just slid over my skin. The water worked like a lubricant and the soap made the water a super lubricant. My skin felt unbelievable as she slid her hands over me. It was like I was on drugs or something as every movement she made was amplified because of the water and soap. I was getting hard even though I had just cum.



Lower and lower she went. Getting to my bum, her hand went between the cheeks and started to work around my hole. Then she took her hands away and I felt the bar of soap being pushed between my cheeks. After a few quick strokes, the bar was removed and her hand returned.



This time, with the soap as a lubricant, she was able to push her fingers into me a little. Like Kelly, this was a first for me. I had done anal with my ex but she had never played with me. Hell, we had never had a shower together. In all the years we were together, we had never done anything like this. I was so turned on.



Kelly pulled her finger out of me. She pushed on my back indicating she wanted me to move a bit. As I stepped forward, I heard what sounded like Kelly sliding down to the tub floor. It was only a second or two before I felt her hands on my legs. Quickly she soaped down my legs washing the backs, sides and front as she went.



When she was finished, I felt a hand on my hip pulling me. I understood she wanted me to turn and I did. Kelly was on her knees, the shower was now spraying my lower half and washing over her head. My cock was right at her face level. She leaned forward and the tip disappeared into her mouth. Her tongue swirled around the tip and started to flick the underside.



I groaned at the pleasure she was giving me. I looked down and for a quick second, Kelly looked up at me. Our eyes met. There was a look of pure eroticism in her eyes. It made me hotter just seeing her.



She let my cock slip out of her mouth. To say I was disappointed would be an understatement. Kelly stood and looking me in the eye, she stepped forward. Her breasts pushed into my chest, my cock touched her water softened landing strip and out lips met. At that moment, I wanted her so badly.



Before I knew it, Kelly stepped back. She took the soap and started on my shoulders. Across my chest she worked then down to my breasts. She played with my nipples. Leaning back, the water spray washed the soap off me. She then leaned over and sucked one of my nipples into her mouth. Her tongue flicked the end. Again, this was a new thing for me. I guess I am one of the lucky ones as I felt a little jolt head down my body and into my cock. I have since learned that not all men feel this when their nipples are stimulated. I am happy to say it felt great.



Kelly stood up and resumed the soaping. She did my upper stomach then my lower stomach. My hips were next. With her hand upside-down, she ran her fingers, through my pubic hair. I could not believe how erotic and sensual this whole experience was. Standing there, I was anticipating her hands on my cock. If her hand felt this great on the rest of my body, what would it feel like on the most sensitive part of my anatomy?



The moment of truth was here. She took the bar of soap and made a big lather in her hands. She put the soap down and looked me in the eyes. Without breaking eye contact, she stepped a little toward me. Both of her hands made contact with my cock at the same time. With one hand in front of the other, she slid them down my shaft. Her eyes never broke contact with mine.



I could never have believed that the feelings could be this intense. I had rubbed my cock in the shower before, but her hands were the softest, most erotic I had ever felt. Slowly she stroked my hard cock. I then felt her hand cup my balls and she started to roll them around my sack. With the stimulation she was giving me, I was feeling the start of my orgasm deep inside.



Kelly leaned over, closed her eyes and our lips met. Her nipples pushed into me. Her hands were working their magic.



Suddenly, she stopped everything. I opened my eyes just in time to see her drop to her knees. She was looking up at me the whole time. The shower spray washed over me. With her hand still on my cock, she aimed it for her mouth. Moving forward, my cock was half way in on the first gulp. Her eyes closed as the water was all over her face. Her lips closed and she started a rhythmic bobbing of her head. Her lips were stroking my cock. I put my hands on her cheeks and started to pull her face onto my cock. Kelly’s tongue was swirling around and around making my desire greater. Her other hand never left my balls.



Never had I felt anything like this. It was erotic heaven.



Suddenly I was aware of her hand on my bum. Kelly had let go of my cock. Her fingers moved between my cheeks and found my butt hole. Slowly but steadily, she pushed one finger into me. For some reason, my cock felt like it was getting harder the further she penetrated.



I was so close to cumming. This was almost too much for me. My head tilted back and my eyes closed. I was experiencing excitement in two places at once. I was feeling things getting ready to explode.

The spring concert was scheduled to start at 7 at the high school auditorium. Allison had texted him saying she had to be there at 6:30 to line up. Christopher had responded by telling him to meet her outside the high school behind the auditorium at 6, saying he had a special gift for her that he wanted her to wear during the concert.



Alison opened the unmarked steel door, letting herself out into the cool night air. The auditorium was hot already and only going to get hotter, and the change of temperature was refreshing. Closing it carefully behind her, glancing to make sure no one was paying attention, she stood in the dusk light, the distant lamp lights starting to turn on. Alison was dressed in a white dress, contrasting with her dark skin and hair, of modest length and fit, just the sort of plain thing expected of a good high school girl. She wondered what Christopher had for her … she knew it would be something deviant … he wasn’t the type to bring her a rose or a bracelet or something. She found her heart racing already at the surprise.



Christopher had been leaning against the car door waiting for Allison to appear. He laughed quietly to himself after he felt that familiar rush of anticipation in his veins. The effect Allison had on him was nearly indescribable. To this point he had stayed away from the school, but now that he was here in the parking lot it brought a combination of nostalgia with a perverse excitement. When he was with Alison she always had a maturity about her that belied her age. Her body definitely looked her age. He saw the heavy door open and Alison appear, looking stunning in a simple white dress – virgin white, he thought, ironically. He saw her looking around the parking lot. “Alison,” he said quietly.



Alison turned her head at the sound of his voice, her eyes finally finding him. Stepping carefully away from the door, she glanced around one more time for onlookers before hurrying over to him, her shoes tapping against the pavement. This felt surreal, the collision of her two worlds she usually kept so far apart. When she was in his shop she no longer felt like a schoolgirl. Here, rushing to this older man’s car she couldn’t feel like anything else. “Hey.”



“Kiss me on the cheek like an uncle,” he said, putting his hands lightly on her hips. He loved her hips, the way they looked and felt under his hands as she rode him, or as he thrust into her hard from behind. He made sure she was close enough to feel his already semi-erect cock through the pants of his lightweight spring suit. “You look lovely Alison,” he said when he felt her cheek against hers. “Get in the car.”



She leaned up on her tip toes and brushed her lips on his cheek, taking in his whispered words. Despite not knowing what was running through his mind, hers was thinking of nearly the same things at the touch of his hands on her. They had never touched anywhere but in the private of the shop and since that first day there had never been any pretense to it. Now he touched her casually yet all she could think of was this way his strong hands would direct her in his shop, into his fetish wear, into his bindings, or him into her. She pulled herself away from him quickly, unsure how much she could control herself under his touch and did what he said, sliding silently into his passenger seat.



He smiled at her sitting next to him in the front seat. “You’re wet already, aren’t you Alison. I can tell just by your eyes, did you know that? And I know that when you reach your between your legs right now and pull your panties aside and put your finger there and bring it up to show me, it will be wet, won’t it.” He put his hand on her bare tan thigh. Her skin was flawless, her eyes dark and intense -stunning without an ounce of makeup on.



Inside the car, despite how potentially exposed they were, it felt private once again, his proximity whisking her away to that dark hole she entered on that first day in his shop. At the first touch of his hand on her thigh, insistent and strong, her legs spread, her dress riding up further. Anyone looking would be shocked to see this young girl and this man like this, but Allison only added to the sight, slipping her hand immediately between her legs and tugging at the band of her panties, tugging it to the side to expose her dark bush.



Her core was wet, indeed. “Yes, Christopher,” she said, and she plunged a finger eagerly inside herself as she said it, as if the words themselves gave her pleasure. She closed her eyes and fingered herself once, twice, three times, hard and deep before pulling her finger out with a gasp and showing it to him, her chest heaving.



“Give me a taste and then clean the rest off yourself,” he said. Her enthusiasm and her inhibition mixed with the sight and scent of her pussy juice on her finger brought his cock to a throbbing erection. “Good girl Alison,” he said. This was a first, sitting here in his car. That it was right in the parking lot of the elite private high school made it that much more intoxicating. Out of the corner of his eye he could see cars driving in, hear the sounds of doors opening and closing and quiet chatter. “Give it to me,” he said, his hand squeezing her thigh.



Alison thrust her hand forward with a moan, clearly aroused, rubbing her fingertip against his lips while staring into his eyes. It was as if after weeks of letting this man do as he pleased with her, they had brought it to another level. Even these simple things which would be only a prelude at the shop were immeasurably kinkier here in her school parking lot, nearly in public. She thrust the finger into her mouth and sucked eagerly at it, her breath coming quickly through her nose as she thought what her peers, the parents, the staff would think of this.



He wasn’t exactly sure why, whether it was her diet, her age, her genes, her athletic conditioning, or some random combination of them all, but she simply had the sweetest tasting pussy he had ever tasted in his life. He thought at times it actually had a fruited scent to it. He had always enjoyed giving oral sex before, and knew he was good at it, but Alison’s taste was so addictive that in his shop one afternoon when she had left school early, he kept her tied up in various positions for nearly two hours, during which time he licked her pussy incessantly. She had cum ten times at least before he had stopped counting. She seemed to love the taste of herself as well, and he loved watching her do it. “I have a gift for you,” he said, and reached behind her seat and lifted a small gift bag.



Allison remembered the first time he had her taste her own juices, how devious and disgusting it had seemed. That seemed a dim memory, hard to imagine and believe. She now knew the taste of her own pussy on her fingers, his fingers, on his cock, on his toys. Once he had smeared her face with it until she could smell nothing else. Today she sucked the juice from her finger and dropped her hands in her lap, watching him with the mixture of trepidation and excitement she felt every time they were together, never knowing what knew thing he was going to do to her. “What is it?” she asked, reaching to take it from him.



He pulled it away immediately. “Uh, uh” he said. “You’ll get your gift after I get mine.”



Allison drew her hands back in surprise, the desire to please him, to not disappoint him, so ingrained in her now. “Your gift,” she said, unsure.



“Yes. Your mouth on my cock. Stop before I cum, because you’re going to climb on my lap right here in the car and I’m going to fuck you in the parking lot of your high school. Then you’ll get your gift.”



Allison moaned involuntarily, as she often did just to the sound of his dirty talk. No one in her life had ever spoken like that, though she secretly longed to hear all those words. The fact that she knew he was deadly serious only made it more delicious. Allison looked down to his crotch, seeing how hard he was already. She concentrated on working down his zipper, the car quickly growing hotter from their two bodies. She had seen this sort of scene in a dozen movies and now it was going to be her, sucking off her lover in a parked car. Allison slid her slim hand inside his pants, looking up at him as she fished out the shaft.



He shifted his weight in his seat, angling himself so that he was more easily accessible to her. He would never admit this to her, ever, but there were times when he was genuinely surprised at how easily she obeyed him. The few times when she didn’t, it seemed to be only so that he could give her a little punishment: an extra hard tug of her hair, or spank on her buttocks, or perhaps denying her orgasm. Yet there was no denying this connection they had, a near perfect balance. He could smell her sex in the confines of the car, and it occurred to him that someone might even see the windows fogging in the dusk and wonder at what was going on inside, or even know what was going on, but never would they expect it to be the valedictorian and a much older owner of the local sex shop.



How completely unbelievable it was, that was their protection, of sorts. No one that knew Allison would even believe she was having sex, never mind that she would let a grown man spank her, or put a dildo in her mouth. Or that right now before her concert she was leaning over the console and expertly taking the man’s cock in her mouth. She sucked it into her mouth, none of the hesitation or awkwardness of those first days. Her lips slid down the shaft, her tongue working underneath it and she quickly began to bob up and down on the most sensitive stretch of shaft, feeling in his urgent hardness how ready for this he was.



She was a quick study. In a short time she had found the rhythm and motions that could either bring him off quickly, or tease him for as long as he could stand it. Her mouth was hot, and her fingers were strong as she stroked him. He reached over and slid her dress up over her waist and gave her ass a quick firm swat. It sounded different here in his car than it did in the shop. Normally he might reach behind her and start to rub her pussy or slide a finger into it, but not tonight. He slid his hand over her perfect muscular buttocks and found her tiny tight asshole and without rimming it, pushed the tip of his middle finger against it, feeling it give, and sensing the slightest hesitation of her rhythm on his cock as she felt it.



Allison felt him tug her dress up and knew that her ass, her panties pulled to one side, was on display. If someone wandered by and glanced inside the foggy window they would see it lifted up in the air for them. The idea terrified her, but at the same time it gave her a lurid thrill. She knew that if Christopher wanted to put her on display for others, she would let him. That thought made her suck his dick even more eagerly, turned on by her own wantonness.



Only the sudden touch and thrust of his finger distracted her. She lost her rhythm on his cock, holding it in her mouth but forgetting to suck. He had played with her ass once or twice, and she had not denied him. She couldn’t deny him anything. But her body tensed, twisting a bit in discomfort, the air in the car suddenly heavier.



Despite the intense pleasure he was receiving from her mouth on his cock, and his finger exploring her ass, Christopher coolly looked at the clock on the dashboard. The valedictorian, the star athlete, the pride of the school, would never be late for a chorus concert. He was tempted to cum in her mouth, but for the gift to be inserted properly it would help if she rode him first. He put his hand on the back of her head, grabbed a handful of hair, and held her bobbing head still. “Time to fuck,” he said.



Allison’s body tensed as his finger first thrust inside her asshole. The strange sensation of being invaded there combined with the perversion of knowing it was made possible by her own pussy juices soaking his finger. She now found herself double penetrated for the first time, the new sensation of his finger so much deeper than he’d ever dared combining with the sensation of both his cock and finger thrusting into her each time she drove down. She was in control, despite the unexpected intrusion, and it was her own muscular legs which drove her body up and down, impaling herself on both. She felt her chest tightening, her nipples burning, the guttural sounds coming from her throat as her clenched, tight body rode him harder and harder.



She didn’t even flinch at the feeling of his finger deep inside her ass, he thought. She was enjoying the feeling as much as he was, and it was that raw desire inside her, limitless, he thought, that so turned him on. He glanced at the clock again, calculated how much time was left until the concert began, thought about the gift he still had to give her. He needed to ask her just one question, and listen to her reply, the answer to which he knew would push him over the edge. He whispered in her ear, the scent of her hair strong, “Do you love the feeling of my finger deep in your ass Alison?”



Allison had forgotten the clock, the concert, and was too drawn into herself to notice the movement of his eyes. How could she notice that when there was so much happening down below. Her virgin asshole quivered around the intruder, grasping at his finger in spasms. Yet at the same time his cock drove up into her, either one more than enough to drive her to distraction on its own. There was no question about her response, despite the discomfort and the dirtiness of it. “Yes, I do,” she moaned back into his ear, her strong thighs gripping him even tighter, her ass rock hard as she rode him with all her strength.



To make her late for the concert would stir suspicion in everyone around here. What could possibly make Alison, the valedictorian, late for a concert? Knowing Alison, and though she never said anything to him about it, she probably even had a solo. He would make certain they both came and that she would have time to open the present. Hearing her acknowledge that she enjoyed having her ass finger fucked did it for him.



With his free hand he grabbed her hard buttock and slapped it twice, and then dug his fingertips into her flesh. “That’s my good girl,” he said, and in his mind spotted his orgasm building in his balls. “We’re going to have a lot of fun with that tight ass of yours,” he whispered hotly in her ear.



Allison could hear the rough growl in his voice, the animalistic way he slapped and grabbed at her tight ass. And she knew she loved it, for some reason she couldn’t understand, but cared less and less about, she loved the idea of him treating her as something to grope and grab and fuck, the way when the passion mounted there were no limits but only hands and skin and sweat and the rough banging of bodies into each other. Allison rocked her hips back and forth crazily, forcing his cock in her with each forward thrust, and his finger in her with the backward. There was no more up and down her pelvis crushed tight to his and only this frantic fucking as she came.



He loved the way she never held back. Ever. He guessed she attacked every other part of her life with this much enthusiasm, and for a moment he again wondered what she looked like on the soccer field, and he made a note to meet her here again after one of her games, and fuck her in the car, or maybe in the woods, hands all over with her sweaty body and her uniform around her shin pads and cleats. Now, though, he concentrated on his finger in her ass, her tight pussy gripping and milking his cock, the shaking of her hips signaling her orgasm, and he didn’t hold back any longer. He thrust upward hard and felt himself release his load up into her. He could tell by her intensity that she could keep fucking for a few more hours, but he needed to give her the gift. He waited until she slowed her hips, signaling his intention with his free hand back and her hip and whispered again, “That’s my good pet. For that you may now open your present.”



Allison moaned in a bit of frustration as she felt him thrust upward and stop, her own body continuing to grind and grind atop him until his hands guided her to a stop. Her body was covered in a coat of sweat underneath her clothing and she was sure she stank of sex. She sat resting her weight on him, trembling as he spoke of her present. She had forgotten it, could hardly concentrate on it as the spike of pleasure fooled with the chemicals in her brain, her hair plastered to her face. “What is it?” she asked, dazed.



He felt her pussy still spasming around his cock, and smelled their sex together and realized that they had fogged the windows. He reached over to the passenger seat and took the silver butt plug still in its gift box and handed it to her. Her breath smelled like her pussy mixed with a faint scent of something she had been using to sooth her throat for singing. “I know you’re going to love it,” he said, watching her rip the paper off it.



Allison sat back a bit, her ass pressing down on his lap, feeling his cock softening, slowly slipping out of her. Her head nearly touched the roof of the car, and so she hunched over, taking the box in her hands. Her heart was pounding in her chest and her breathing still fast and loud. But with calm fingers she undid the paper and opened it up. She sat staring at shock at the butt plug. She knew what it was, though she thought she probably should not, but she glanced up at him with dark eyes and a silent face, biting at her lip.



For a moment he ridiculously thought she might not know what it was, but then realized given everything else she’d seen and touched and used in his shop she surely would know what it was, and the look in her eyes immediately confirmed it. “You’re to wear it during your concert,” he said simply. “We’ll put it in now.”



A good girl, in this day and age, shouldn’t let a man boss her around like that. But there was no malice in his voice, and it was because he knew as well as she did that she wanted him to direct her. She wanted him to show her things he had only dared imagine. She stared back down at the plug, at how much wider it was than his finger and couldn’t imagine what this would be like going in, let alone staying there. She nodded, but he could feel her tremble a bit there at the edge.



He put his large hand over hers still on the butt plug and started to lower their hands together in the canyon between their bodies. “Lift your hips … we’re going to get it wet from our juices mixed together,” he said, guiding it down past her flat stomach toward her pussy.



Allison did as he said, raising herself up off of him, letting their hands slide together in the hot wet space between their bodies. She felt the plug brush along her swollen dark lips and moaned, her need insatiable it seemed to her, despite all she’d discovered with him.



The sound of the plug against her wetness reminded him of the sounder her fingers made when he made her masturbate for him. When he was satisfied it was wet enough, he took her hand, still on the plug, and brought it around behind her. “Lean forward and arch your back,” he said matter-of- factly,”and we’ll slide it in slowly.”



Allison could feel it collecting her nectar as they slid the plug back and forth along her lips. She knew it would be wet, sticky and fragrant with her smell as he shifted it behind her. Leaning forward she pressed her body into his in the small car, arching her back expertly, despite her youth a master of her body. She felt how it opened her up back there, exposed her, and he could feel her hand trembling in his.



He wasn’t about to tell her this now, but he knew from his own experience how the next 10 seconds would feel, and the two hours after. He enjoyed the thought of how much this would test her concentration skills, standing with her school chorus with a butt plug under her skirt, in front of hundreds of people in the auditorium, including him. The thought of it, and the way she was leaning into him, her ass up waiting for the plug, was bringing his cock back to life. He could feel her hand shaking under his. He held the tip to her little hole and pressed until he felt some resistance. He didn’t wait to ask if she was ready, just kept pushing slowly upward and inward, and glanced at the clock: 6:24.

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