Posts Tagged ‘older-younger’

He came to me in the night. It was always in the night. In the daylight we both pretended that there was no nightly visitation. But he was highly sexed, and since my mom died, he came to me often at night. He waited until I’d turned eighteen, but after that, he came for me.

“Dad . . .” I murmured, still only half awake.

“Shush. Take this.”

I was on my back and he was straddling my chest with his knees and leaning over me, holding my arms out and above my head with strong fists encasing my wrists. I felt the tip of his erect cock at my lips and I opened to him, and we both moaned quietly in the dark as he stroked his cock in and out of my mouth, hardening it and arousing him further—and slicking up his tool for what he’d do later.

When he was sufficiently aroused, he moved his knees and lips down my chest and belly and swallowed my balls as his hand went to my cock. His hand went to join the other to cup and raise and separate my butt cheeks as his mouth went to my entrance. His hand on my cock was replaced by one of my own, and I lay there, looking dumbly toward the window, watching the wind sway the branches of the willow tree, and stroking myself. For a moment I had the sensation of someone being there, watching us, but I had shut my systems down. I didn’t care and my senses weren’t on alert. I was trying to transport myself to someplace else altogether.

He pulled my sleeping shorts—all that I was wearing—off my legs.

“Turn on your belly.” The voice was low, raspy, needy.

“Dad . . .” I murmured again. It was all I could manage, and I knew it had no effect.

“Turn on your belly, son.”

With a sigh of resignation, I did as he commanded. I always did as he commanded, whether day or night.

A heavily muscled arm went under my lower belly and lifted me to my knees, while a palm between my shoulder blades pushed my chest down on the cool sheet. He was crouched over me from behind, his thighs encasing mine. I felt the stretch and filling of the entry. But no pain. There hadn’t been pain, really, for months. My channel was fit to his cock now. He just slid up into me as I gasped slightly and groaned the almost nightly possession by him.

One of his fists went to the wrist of my left arm and pinned it to the bed above my head. He let me have the use of my right hand—he’d done so for nearly two months now—and I moved it to my cock and began stroking it again to the rhythm of his fucking cock.

He moved his other hand between gripping my waist and pinching my nipple and turning my head toward his face when he brought it down to my head. When he did that, we kissed, deeply, his tongue invading and searching my mouth cavity. This was something else that had only entered the ritual in the last month or so.

My lips freed, I once more turned my head and gazed at the window—and once more had the sensation of someone or something pulling away from it out there as I turned my head. Then I closed my eyes and concentrated again on not being there.

The nature of pretending I wasn’t really involved in what was happening to me in the night had changed in the last month or too also—and it scared me. In the initial months, I had zoned out to deny it was happening. Now I was zoning out because I was beginning to need it—to look forward to it each night.

Of course he really wasn’t my dad—not my biological dad—and nothing that he was doing was something I could report him for, something I could stop, short of fighting him, which, considering our differing sizes and physical power, was a comical notion. And leaving was something I couldn’t do, at least not yet.

My real dad had died when I was eleven, and Tyler had been with us for six years now, arriving a little more than a year after Mom was widowed. I say us, but he really was only with “us” for a bit more than five years. My mom died six months ago. She had been sick for some time before she died, and I think she understood Tyler’s interest in me before she went. But by then she was too far gone to do anything about it. She seemed to be hanging on mostly to be there until I got old enough to leave the house and go on my own.

My real dad’s death and her own quick decline there at the end had bollixed up that idea, though. I’d worshipped my real dad, and his death had been a real blow to me. I just shut my life down for nearly a full year though—and that included school work. So, I was set back a grade. And, so, when mom died, I was no more than a week past eighteen, but I had a year and a half more to go in high school. And what were almost Mom’s last words to me stuck.

“Stick it out until you graduate high school, Chris,” she’d said. “Promise me you’ll get your high school. Then go in the service for a while or something. Get away from this. But promise me you’ll get your high school in first. A man can’t do much of anything without that diploma.”

And so, I promised.

And the way it worked out with Tyler wasn’t wham bang, either. It was gradual. He worked me. He seduced me. And he was smart. He waited until I was eighteen. And when he finally had me, there I was, an adult, and not able even to claim rape. And the longer I stayed, the less anyone would care what I let happen to me. They would have asked, “Why didn’t you just walk?”

Well, I didn’t walk, because I promised my mom I’d get in that last year and half of school, and I didn’t have any other good options. I had no living family left, and I had no means really to live out on my own. I didn’t mind the idea of signing up for the military—I was leaning toward the Navy—but it stuck in my mind that one thing my mom had asked me to promise to do was to get that high school diploma before leaving.

And, as I’ve said. Tyler was clever. And he took it slow so that by the time I really was over the edge, it was done.

It had started the day after I turned eighteen. Mom was in the other room, dying. She’d been to the hospital and was back, under Hospice care, to die at home. I was keyed up and confused and into self-denial and wanting to make it all go away—transport myself to some fantasy land—and because I was a teenager with raging hormones, that meant a flashlight and dirty magazine and beating myself off in the middle of the night.

Which was all fine, but Tyler found me that night, right after my eighteenth birthday. I was terrified and paralyzed in place when he found me. But he came into the room and was calm and sat down on the side of the bed and told me all sorts of mumbo-jumbo over how it was normal and understandable under the circumstances. And while he was talking and holding my attention, he had his hand on my cock. When I noticed and flinched and began to object, he shushed me, reminding me that Mom was just in the other bedroom and that, although what I was doing was normal and understandable, it wasn’t something we wanted to worry her about.

“So, just lay back, and I’ll take care of it.”

And so I did. And he did. And I was surprised at how much different and better it felt when someone else did it.

Three days later, the night before Mom died, Tyler was back and sweet talked me into letting him take care of my fears and tensions again. And this time he ran his other hand over my body as he was slowly jacking my cock off.

When we came home from Mom’s funeral, I was a basket case, and Tyler sent me to my room and told me to try to get some sleep. But I couldn’t and I couldn’t stop crying. And Tyler came into my room and sat on the bed and hugged me close and soothed me with his calm, soft voice—which was really something coming from such a big, muscular man—and with his hands patting and stroking me here and there. He had my cock out of the fly of my sleeping shorts before I knew it. And I was in such a state that I didn’t care—in fact it was comforting. And this time he didn’t relieve me with his hand. He did it with his mouth.

Mom was dead now and there was only Tyler. And he’d already given me a blow job. And I was already eighteen and had promised my mom I’d stick it out through high school. And not only wasn’t I thinking too straight, but I was a teen with raging hormones and Tyler was giving me release and pleasure that, though I knew it was evil and not right, was overwhelmingly hard to resist.

Everything was fine during the day. Tyler was a coping single-parent dad by day. Fitting in getting me to school and being there during my ball games and other activities while still holding down his job. I took up more of the cleaning and cooking duties, but Tyler was hanging in there on those as well. And we said nothing during the day of what was happening at night. The dark covered all of our sins.

But he was coming to me more often at night now. And he cajoled me into taking head, and one night he introduced a dildo into the ritual as he was sucking my cock. The first time I just thought it was his thumb, which he had started strumming rim of my hole with while sucking me, but it wasn’t—it was a dildo. And the second time I knew it wasn’t a thumb—and that it hadn’t stayed at the entrance. By the time he fucked me with his cock, he had me asking for it. And I was over eighteen, and with nowhere else to go.

And now it was four months later.

Tyler had just been to visit me the night before. But he was here, at the door, tonight, as well. I’d heard it. He’d had a video on out in the living room. A male porn film. He was standing at the door, breathing heavily and giving me a scary stare. He was stark naked and had a raging hard on. I was sitting on the floor, on the thick cushion I’d taken off the overstuffed chair in my room; my back to the bed; earphones in, with the music set to something I liked to listen to before I went to bed; and doing my last-minute homework. I already was in my sleeping shorts.

Tyler was on me like a flash, grabbing my wrists with his hands and pushing my arms back on the bed. His cock was assaulting my mouth, pushing my head back on the bed as well. And I was gagging and gasping as he face-fucked me.

Then he pulled me up on my feet and kicked the cushion out into the middle of room as he was stripping off my sleeping shorts. He pushed me down on my shoulder blades on the cushion and grabbed my hips in his hands, and pulled my pelvis up into his crotch and my hole onto his cock, and started fucking down into me with long, deep strokes, thrusting down with his cock, while he pulled my pelvis up into him. Pushing me down as he moved his hips back and then pulling me in again as he thrust forward.

He was fucking me with a fury as he’d never done before, and I hooked my legs on top of the flare of his butt and hung on for dear life, my soothing “go-to-bed” music still playing in my ear from the earphones.

Above the sound of the music, I could hear the sound of the sex. Grunting and groaning and moaning in harmony, but above that, a plaintive cry of “Oh, shit, oh yes, oh gawd yessss, Fuck ME!”

I was shocked—and scared—at the realization that it was my voice.

* * * *

By this time, Tyler wasn’t the only one fucking me. By now, I knew what was done was done—and that I didn’t mind it when I wasn’t thinking real hard—and was thinking why should I give it away just to Tyler for free. I was scraping together whatever money I could to help my escape from here, which was coming within a year. I kept the money in an old can out in the rafters of the storage shed in the back yard.

I figured I knew where I would make some money off this. And I was right.

For years, Mr. Collins, a bachelor living in a house twice as large and tidy as ours just down the street from us, had been giving me the eye and trying to make friends with me when I walked past his house. I wasn’t so dumb that I didn’t know what his interest was—and there were whisperings going around the neighborhood and at school that bore this out.

All it took to get him to come out of the house was for me to stand out on the front walk by his white picket fence one day and look around like I had nothing better to do than stand there. Sure enough, it wasn’t long before he sauntered out, acting like he had a reason to be on the move and “accidentally” noticing I was there and coming to the fence to greet me.

“Hi there, Chris,” he called out in a chipper voice. “Great day, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, yeah, it is,” I answered. “Might rain tonight, though. The rains will be heavy this summer, they say.”

Mr. Collins was trembling like a Chihuahua on speed at this string of words from me. It was more in total that I’d ever said to him in all the years he’d been living in the neighborhood. He literally wagged his tail as he came out to the fence, obviously thrilled that I was still standing there.

“Yes, it’s good for the flowers, though.”

“Nice flowers,” I said. “And you got a gardener to take real good care of them, I see.” I was searching for words. The gardener was kneeling at the rose bed that lined the front porch of the house. He was facing away from us, an Hispanic, I guessed, maybe in his thirties. An outdoor worker. I wondered if he could hear us—and if he could understand English if he could.

“I try to keep the grounds up,” Mr. Collins said, his voice full of pride. “Say, I was real sorry to hear about your mother. I—”

“Thanks. Thanks, Mr. Collins. You’re a nice man for saying that.” I turned my eyes on him and smiled.

He practically melted on the spot with pleasure. He had his hands on top of the fence and they were trembling. I put a hand up there too, trying to make it seem like a natural move, and I could see him shudder as our hands touched each other.

“Nice house too. Real nice house. Big. Bet you have lots of rooms in there. Bet you have some nice things in there.”

“Would you like to see inside sometime?” Mr. Collins asked. His voice sounded so hopeful that I felt kind of sorry for him.

“I’m not doing much of anything now,” I said. I tried to keep my voice low, because I could see that the gardener had turned his head toward us—that maybe he was listening to us.

I thought that Mr. Collins was going to melt down to a puddle on the spot at the prospect of getting me in the house.

The gardener looked up from the rose garden as we passed and gave me a tentative little smile. I wondered if he figured any of this out. But then I didn’t care. He was just a gardener.

“How’s school and the baseball going, Chris?” Mr. Collins asked me as we entered the foyer. I walked right on into the living room, which showed that Mr. Collins made a whole heap more money that my stepdad did. “I’ve always been interested in how the kids of the neighborhood were doing.”

“Yeah, I know you have, Mr. Collins. I’ve seen how you watched me over the years. Well, I’m here now. And I’m over eighteen.”

He turned his head toward where I was standing in the living room, surprised by what I said and by the hard tone I’d taken when I said it. And there I was, standing in the middle of his living room, with my fly open and my dong hanging out and cupped in the palm of my hand. I was kind of proud of my cock, and Mr. Collins seemed pretty impressed too. He went to his knees with a loud moan and began sucking my cock in a way that assured me that, as suspected, I probably wasn’t the first neighborhood boy who had visited this house.

We were naked on his bed with him stretched out behind me and stroking his cock inside me from the rear as I propped my knee up on the bed to give him better access when I told him what the deal was: “$15 for you to suck me; $25 if I suck you. $50 for a fuck; $60 for the whole package.”

He didn’t object and signed up for the next visit to be on my way home from school three days hence. My stepdad didn’t get home from work for nearly three hours after my school finished for the day.

The gardener was in the front garden the next day I visited Mr. Collins, and he turned his head and gave me a little smile again when I reached the stairs to the porch and started climbing. I instinctive smiled back, a little nervous because he was there, and because I couldn’t think of a plausible reason to be approaching Mr. Collins’s house by myself if the gardener asked. But he didn’t ask.

The door was slightly ajar when I got to it, and I heard a faraway voice call out from upstairs. “Come on in. It’s open. I’m upstairs.”

I went in and began to climb the stairs. Half way up I stopped dead in my tracks and let out a “Holy shit.” I began to turn to flee the house, when Mr. Collins said probably the only thing that kept me there.

“$75. I’ll give you $75. And you won’t be doing anything special or different. This is for me. This is to make it more interesting for me.”

I turned back and looked up at him again. He was wearing women’s lingerie. A black lace bra, with matching panties and black mesh stockings and black stiletto heels. He also had on a red-haired wig, and his face was made up like a baby doll, a mean slash of shiny, deep-red lipstick across his mouth. He was talking in a funny, high voice like he was playing some sort of game. And I guessed it was pretty obvious that he was.

“It’s no different for you, honey,” he repeated. “It’s just me. It’s just what I like. $75, OK?”

He didn’t look all that bad as a woman. Younger even. And he wasn’t fat; he had good muscle tone and firm arms and legs. A flat belly and a nipped-in waist.

If I closed my eyes. . . . And it wasn’t like I had to get it up. He said it would be no different. And he had topped me earlier, although for the money, I was willing to try going either way.

I started walking up the stairs again, and as we crossed the hall to the master bedroom, I was impressed on how well he walked in the heels. I guessed he’d done this a lot.

“Please take your clothes off and sit on the side of the bed,” he said.

I watched myself—and him/her in the mirrors as I stripped. That was the thing I’d remembered the most about his bedroom from the other day. The mirrors. He had them everywhere. It had been arousing to me to see myself being fucked no matter how I turned my head. I assumed that the mirrors were there because he found it amusing as well. He wasn’t bad looking for an old guy and was a good cocksman—or so I thought, only having Tyler to compare him with. But I thought Tyler must be good at it as much as he was fucking me—and I knew he and my mom really went at it before she got too sick to enjoy it. And, surprising, Collins was as good at it as Tyler was, although he must be at least ten years older than Tyler.

We didn’t do it just like we had the first time. This time Mr. Collins spent more time in setting it up—and he had an extra fetish thing going with the lipstick. The color was something that rubbed off easily. Collins made a point of paying attention to nearly every inch of my body with his lips, and I could see that the lipstick was rubbing off on my skin. And he got up every once in a while and renewed it, so that it was always leaving fresh lip marks.

I found quickly that the panties had a slit in them in front, so that his cock came out without having to remove the panties. I sucked him and then he sucked me, being careful to leave distinctive lip-shaped red markings on my cock. He followed this up with lip attention to the rest of my body, and then he had me lay on my back on the edge of the bed, and he came between my thighs and fucked me to mutual ejaculations while we watched ourselves and each other in the mirrors. Although I had been worried about being able to get it up, the setting was so exotic and he was such an expert cocksman that I didn’t have any trouble at all. The mirrors helped too.

Afterward, Mr. Collins made me stand in front of a full-length mirror and he took photos of the artwork he’d done on my body with his ruby-red lips before he let me shower and gave me four twenties and told me to keep the change.

I had a pretty busy extracurricular activity schedule at school and on the baseball mound, but I did have Tuesday afternoons free, and Mr. Collins signed up for that time slot. He must have had quite a closet, because he was wearing a different set of lingerie each time—and a different shade of lipstick.

Tuesday’s must have been one of his set days with the gardener too, as he was always there, kneeling by the roses and giving me a little nod and smile when I mounted the porch stairs to Mr. Collins’s front door.

* * * *

I rather enjoyed the fucking with Mr. Collins, and it worried me that I did, but the money was too good to deny myself and put the brakes on this stuff. At $80 a week, my tin can in the storage shed was going to need company soon. I’d made it to late summer. One more year, my senior year, and I could just walk away from here—and with some serious cash in my pocket. I’d put it all behind me, or so I thought.

I was getting old enough now to accept that I was just fooling myself. I began to become obsessed with the women’s lingerie—and wondering about it in connection with my nights with Tyler. I have no idea what caused me to do it, but one afternoon, when rain had wiped out a baseball practice and Tyler wouldn’t be home for hours, I stole into the master bedroom and started browsing through the drawers in my mother’s bureau. Tyler had done nothing about getting rid of her clothes.

I found her intimate lingerie in one of the lower drawers and I took a pair of black lace panties back to my bedroom and stripped and put them on and walked around the house for a half hour. It didn’t give me quite the thrill I thought it might, but just the idea of how I wanted it to make me feel made me hard.

And then Tyler went four nights without visiting my bedroom. I didn’t think he was doing this on purpose at the time, but now I think he did. Now I think he wanted me to take that last step. The first two nights I luxuriated in a full night’s sleep. The third night I couldn’t sleep and kept looking at my door, waiting for it to open and for Tyler to slip into the room and into my bed. On the four night I was in a stew, wondering what was wrong, why he wasn’t coming.

On the fifth night I could take it no longer. I padded out of bed, stripped off my sleeping shorts, and slipped on the black lace panties I’d purloined from my mother’s drawer.

Tyler was awake, on his back, no doubt waiting for me—although I didn’t know it at the time. I climbed onto the bed and straddled his pelvis. He laughed and pulled my face down to his and kissed me deeply on the mouth. I could feel his cock come alive. He moved his hands over my bare torso as we kissed and then down to my hips, and I felt the jerk in his cock and heard the low gasp when he learned I was wearing lace panties. He let me know he enjoyed that a lot—but he didn’t enjoy it so much that it prevented him from gripping the flimsy material covering my buttocks on both sides and rending it apart with a low ripping sound and then settling my channel on his cock through the slit he’d made.

He laid there, providing the ramrod, and smiling up into my face as I did all of the work, riding his cock in undulating waves. When he had shot his load up into me, he laughed his ultimate victory over me, the fulfillment of my conditioning.

Later, in my own room again, I couldn’t sleep. I had come in the panties in Tyler’s room and he’d kept them as a trophy, so I was in my sleeping shorts once more.

It had already rained once and then stopped, and I could hear the splatter of precursory rain drops once again on the window. They were promising quite a storm tonight.

I liked watching storms, and Tyler’s laugh at the conclusion of our sex had awakened me to what he had conditioned me to do—that final step of me coming to him, wanting it, and willing to do all of the work to get it. This depressed me, and for the first time I wondered if staying around to complete high school was going to be the end of it—whether I could break away from Tyler even after that. And, even more depressing, I was beginning to doubt if the high school diploma was the real reason I was staying around—whether I wasn’t completely under Tyler’s spell now.

I couldn’t sleep, so I got out of bed and took a Coke from the refrigerator and walked out onto the front porch, just in my sleeping shorts, to welcome the coming storm and to try to force my racing brain to be lost in watching the thunder and lightning show.

I had finished the Coke and gotten tired of waiting for the storm to arrive. I turned to go back into the house, but I was grabbed from behind and tossed out into the yard. I landed on the wet grass and someone was on my back, his knee in the small of my back, and my hands were pulled behind me and being tied off. A burlap sack was pulled over my head and I was roughly pulled up and frog marched across the yard, tossed into the back seat of a car, and, after doors slammed, the car was on the move.

I have no idea how long we drove; I was too stunned by the sudden assault to keep any sort of track, but the car eventually stopped after a particularly bumpy ride at the last. I could hear the pattering of rain on the metal roof. The storm was starting. I heard a door open at the front of the car—and slam shut—and then one of the doors to the rear seat opened, and I almost tumbled out of the car. Strong hands grabbed me, though, and lift and tossed me toward the other side of the car. Someone was in the back seat with me. His chest was pressing in on mine—he was bare-chested, so I knew it was a man, and heavy muscled and slick with sweat. I heard and felt the ripping of my sleeping shorts—and heavy breathing. Whoever it was was too agitated to just pull my pants off. I was wedged, facing up, in the back corner of the seat. The seat was wide and plush, I figured some older model car—something American and from the 60s, maybe.

Rough hands were forcing my thighs apart and raising my legs, and the man was between my legs, and I screamed as a cock far thicker than either Tyler’s or Mr. Collins’s split me and forced itself deep inside my channel and I was being furiously fucked. He bit into my nipple and I cried out in pain again. I began to sneeze from the dustiness of the sack over my head. I tried to suppress it, thinking, “No, please don’t take the sack off, please don’t take the sack off”—knowing that if he did I would see what he looked like. And if he didn’t care if I knew what he looked like, then . . .

I couldn’t suppress the sneezing, though, and also began to cough. And the sack was drawn off my head.

It was Mr. Collins’s gardener.

“Why?” I cried out.

He backhanded me across the face and growled, “Shut the fuck up.”

And I turned my head toward the window in the passenger door I was wedged up against and watched the storm roll over us. There was thunder and lightning aplenty, and it seemed like each clap of thunder and flash of lightning was accompanied by a ramrod splitting me asunder. Each time the thunder clapped, I lurched at the thrust of his cock inside me, each time thinking he couldn’t go further down inside me, widen my channel with his monster tool any wider, but, with each thunder clap, he did.

He fucked me with intense purpose and abandon, and I moaned and groaned at how much fuller and more intense his taking of me was than Tyler’s and Collins’s fuckings were. He wanted me and drilled me in ways they hadn’t done, moving deep inside me, relentlessly fucking, making me writhe and whimper and cry out, afraid of what came after this, and then, because he was at it so long and so deep, afraid that this was the last of me—fucked to death. I had ejaculated a long time before he exploded and fell on top of me, sweaty and panting. Holding me tight, his breathing becoming less ragged but his cock coming back to life inside me the longer he held me there.

The second fucking, in consort with the abating of the thunderstorm into a gentle rain, was slower, more methodic and longer, with his hands now searching my body more, as if assuring himself that I actually was here, that the snatch and furious fuck that went before were real, not just one of the longing wet dreams that had driven him to do this.

When he was finished, he covered my head with the sack again and went over the front seat back into the driver’s position while I whimpered, exhausted and taken as neither Tyler nor Mr. Collins had ever done with me.

We drove on for a half hour or more, and I sensed when we turned off asphalt and onto gravel and then, eventually onto dirt—probably mud now. The last quarter of a mile or more was on jarringly rough road.

I was bundled out of the car, across uneven dirt, and up onto a wooden porch—which I discern because I was barefooted, and then through a door which was closed behind us. I heard two bolts being thrown on the door and the scrape of a key in a lock. The sack was jerked off my head again.

He had prepared for me. This wasn’t a casual snatch. We were standing in a log cabin that was about twenty feet square. The windows were all shuttered from at least the inside. There was a double bed in one corner and chains were welded to the wall above the headboard. At the loose end of the chains were wrist clamps, and this was where the gardener herded me—over to the bed, where he pushed me down on my belly. He untied my binding and turned me over on my back on the bed and forcing my wrists into the wrist clamps. The chains attached to the walls were short, and I couldn’t move my hands below my shoulders as I lay on the bed.

The gardener stripped off his wet jeans and his briefs and came down on the bed, forcing his knees between my thighs and sliding them under my buttocks. Then he thrust his cock inside my channel again, and fucked me for a third time—long and hard, with animalistic noises like he’d been building up to do this for months and hadn’t had sex in the meantime.

He said nothing to me, didn’t answer my whimpered questions or respond to my pleadings. If he hadn’t told me to shut up in the car in half-decent English, I would have thought there was a language barrier between us. There certainly wasn’t any other barrier between us.

He got out of the bed and padded around turning off lights. I had only a brief opportunity to see what was there, while he was doing so. Just one room. A small kitchenette area over on the front wall by the door we’d come through. This bed was in one back corner and a raised tin square about three foot square was in the other back corner. A shower head was on the wall above this. A toilet was set in the wall at one side of the open shower square and a white porcelain sink on the other. Thus, the room was completely exposed. There was an old couch with the stuffing coming out. A small desk against the front wall, on the other side of the door from the kitchenette—with a laptop computer on it—a round wood table with three mismatched straight chairs in the center of the room, and an overstuffed chair that didn’t match the couch.

Just this one bed. When he’d turned out the lights, he came back to the bed and stretched beside me and almost instantly started to snore. It took me longer to go to sleep, and shortly after that, he was waking me again, turning me on my belly—with my chained arms crossed above me—and straddling my hips and fucking me again.

When I woke in the morning, he’d changed the chains. They were longer now, enough so that I could get out of the bed and stand and walk maybe three feet from the bed. There was a hunk of bread and a cup of cold coffee on the nightstand next to the bed and two tin bowls on the floor below that. One was about a third filled with water and there was a sponge floating in it. The other was empty and had a half of roll of toilet paper in it. I could pretty much tell what both of those bowls were for.

The gardener was pissing in the toilet on the other side of the room. He was still naked, as, of course, was I. I listened as he emptied his bladder in a long, steady stream going on for almost a minute.

I wolfed down the bread and drank the coffee as the gardener moved to the sink and brushed his teeth and shaved. He still looked like an Hispanic to me. But he had a well-worked body, muscles bulging on muscles, and his cock and balls were hanging heavy. He was taking side glances at me as I sat on the edge of the bed and chewed on the bread, and I could see that he was getting hard again.

So, I wasn’t surprised when he put his razor down when he’d only half shaved and came over and grabbed for my legs while I sat on the bed. I slapped at his hands as best I could and told him no as emphatically as I was able, but he just stunned me again with a backhanded slap across my face that snapped my head to one side, and roughly grabbed my legs, tipping me back on the bed, and crouched been my thighs and fucked me to his ejaculation.

When he was finished with me, he just left me there, my heels dug into the corners of the bed and my legs spread and trembling, and me moaning softly, and went back to his shaving. He took a shower, dressed in his gardening work clothes, and was gone for the rest of the day.

The first thing he did when he returned to the cabin that night was fuck me again. He obviously had been building up to this and looking forward to it for some time. After that, he usually didn’t do it more than once a day, but he never got tired of doing it.

When the first weekend came up, he brought out some red lace panties he had been keeping hidden somewhere, put a slit up the middle of them in back with a knife, and forced them over my legs. He then sat on the edge of the bed, forced me onto his lap and cock—through the slit in the panties—with me facing away from him and stroked my cock through the material of the panties until we both had come. He hung the torn panties with my cum in them on the bedpost, where they remained for a week. I now knew that he’d been peeping on me at Mr. Collins—and probably at my own house too while Tyler was fucking me.

And I now also knew what had prompted this elaborate scheme.

I stayed with Julio—for after the first few weeks I ascertained at least that much about him, that his name was Julio—for thirteen months. I knew it was thirteen months, because he had a calendar hanging above the desk and he delighted in marking off the days. He delighted even more in the first few weeks he held me captive in marking off each time he fucked me. And there were more of the latter marks than the former.

Slowly, over the initial months, he lengthened my chains in stages of trust. The longest addition, permitting me full access to the cabin so that I then could shower in the corner stall too and go to the toilet properly and have access to food and drink was the night I woke him up and straddled his cock and fucked myself on him. That was a watershed of him believing I wanted him now and that he’d won me over.

He took the shutters off the windows soon after that, and I discovered we were in the deep woods, with a clearing for a power line not far in front of the cabin and railroad tracks in back. I’d already ascertained that a train ran by somewhere near at three set times a day, as it was about the only sound of life outside the cabin I’d heard for two months at that point. It didn’t escape my notice either that the train ran slow in this section of the forest.

By that time I’d figured I was here for good—or at least until something drastic happened. No one had come for me; there was no hint that anyone was looking for me. And I thought that figured. I was over eighteen. The school system couldn’t touch me if I’d decided just to drop out. And Tyler wouldn’t come looking for me; he would just have figured that I’d had enough and had cleared out that night I disappeared. I had screamed obscenities at him the night I’d left—mad, frustrated, and angry that he’d tricked me into coming to his room on my own for the fuck and begging for the fuck—and taking all responsibility for it. Tyler would neither wonder at me leaving that night nor want anyone to look into my disappearance too closely.

So, I was on my own. And seeing the effect of initiating the fuck on Julio—which I had tried as an experiment—had given me hope of being able to work on his vanity. I was making use now of what Tyler had taught me in his conditioning—he had taught me to move from one frame of mind to another just by gradual reconditioning. In Julio’s case the method could still be sex, which Julio was obsessed with, but the goal would be developing a level of trust that would, I hoped, eventually set me free.

I made him believe I couldn’t get enough of his cock now—and I admitted even to myself that it was, indeed, a very nice cock. I went after him and gave him master head, something he’d never had done before, and more often than not I was initiating the sex—and complimenting him on what a great lover he was. I asked him to bring more lacy and silky panties, and we repeated the fetish that he seemed to enjoy so much.

Increasingly, he was giving me little freedoms and favors here and there. And I was showing appreciation for them and doing my best to convince him that I was here by choice now.

Then, purposely, I went into a blue funk. He, of course, asked me why, noticing that my end of the lovemaking had become lethargic. I told him I was bored—and wanted to use the Internet. He said that wasn’t possible. I cried and pouted and told him that I wanted to study—that I could complete my high school via the Internet by taking GED—general education diploma—classes on line. He told me he couldn’t really trust me alone on the Internet, and I said, he could use the keyboard and I’d just sit there and do the class work.

He wanted good sex again, so he gave in to me. I started working on a GED on line to complete my last year of high school—thinking that if nothing else in life I could try to fulfill the promise I’d made to my mother. And, in turn, I gave Julio great sex again.

After a month of acting as intermediary for my studies, Julio got bored and let me do the classes myself. I was careful to stick to only that on the Internet, though, as he tested me several times to make sure that was all I was doing. And I gave Julio really great sex, thinking of inventive positions that he’d never even dreamed of before.

I had him convinced in the first eight months that I couldn’t live without him, that all of the police in the state couldn’t close in on the cabin and pry me from his bed.

The chains came off completely. But I was still naked. Julio had never permitted me to wear a stitch of clothes. That was one hedge on me not going anywhere. He had locks on the doors of the drawers and closet he used for his clothes and he kept them all secure.

For a couple of more months he still locked me in the cabin and shuttered the windows, using the outside shutters, when he went to work. I gave him no reason to think I’d even thought about trying to escape, and I always had my legs open for him, begging for it, when he came home.

He was the world’s greatest stud. I couldn’t go five hours without a cocking by him and by him only. I made him believe that.

I had complete freedom of the cabin and its environs for a full month during which he laid many a scheme to catch any sign that I’d tried to leave him.

At the end of that month, I completely finished my online GED work. I went to a virtual graduation ceremony, without inviting Julio to it or telling him that I had finished the work—and had a graduation certificate waiting for me on line for whenever I wanted to download it.

The next day, a Tuesday, while Julio presumably was pruning Mr. Collins’s roses, I put on trousers and a T-shirt of Julio’s that I had kept out of the wash and Julio hadn’t noticed were missing when he’d locked his clothes away, dug the pair of old boots out from under the bed that Julio had thought he’d taken to the dump with other trash, and held my breath until I heard the whistle of the train somewhere down the track, where it blew its whistle three times a day at almost exactly the same time.

Henry ‘Rocky’ King lived two doors down from me. We had ‘bumped’ into one another at least three times a day for a year, coming and going mostly from our jobs. We had never actually had more than a casual conversation as we passed each other in the hall or shared a ride in the elevator.

Henry, or Rocky as he preferred, was older than me by about 15 years but was in better shape than most guys my age. He had spent a few years in the military and was also a former boxer. He joked once that his nickname Rocky didn’t come from Stallone’s character but rather from the flying squirrel in those Bullwinkle cartoons. When I asked him for details, he laughed and said something are better not talked about.

Rocky was a good looking man. Not that I looked at men in that way, but he was a solidly-built black man with one of those smiles that disarmed you immediately. As good looking as he was, I was sure Rocky had his fill of all the tail he wanted but oddly never saw any woman ever come or go from his apartment.

It was his life, his business and I didn’t obsess about it. I did think it a little odd, but we’re all a little odd. Aren’t we?

As far as a social life, especially one with the ladies, was concerned, I certainly had no place to talk. I was in my fifth month of a very dry, almost arid, dry spell. Sadly my social life lately consisted solely of me, some Kleenex, and some baby lotion.

I was also spending time looking at porn on the Internet. I entertained myself by chatting in chat rooms with anonymous strangers and jerking off to dirty talk and dirty thoughts. I was also starting to frequent the local adult bookstore. Not your ordinary seedy bookstore with jack-off booths in the back, this was a well lit store on the main drag of town. The clientèle was diverse, consisting of all races and all demographics, including frustrated housewives and drunk girls shopping for bachelorette party supplies. Except for the night of a huge rainstorm a month or so ago you hardly ever saw anybody walking around the store in raincoats.

The store carried magazines, DVD’s and a huge assortment of toys. And an assortment of huge toys.

Originally I wasn’t interested in the toy section. I was lonely and frustrated but I wasn’t desperate enough to want to start shoving things in my ass. Never say never though. Right?

I was interested, however, in Candy’s huge selection of movies and although I had a rental card, I started to buy more and more titles.

Despite the fact that the pretty black girl at the counter always smiled at me, I worried that she was judging me. I tried to tell myself that there were so many other people coming in and out on a daily basis I was sure to blend in with the crowd. I was just buying movies and was positive, at least what I convinced myself I was, that it was her freakier customers who she remembered and was sure to laugh at with her friends.

After a while, my sexual tastes began to vary. I was becoming bored with just the regular girl on guy-guy in girl stuff. Pretty soon I started to wander through Candy’s Toy Chest and browse those shelves and small rooms that I had never even thought about venturing into.

Some of the titles of the movies on the shelves cracked me up and some of the artwork on the cover boxes turned me off immediately. The fetish section was a little scary. I’m not into pee or whips and chains. I guess I was still a little normal. Other movies though grabbed my attention and I was surprised to feel the reactions I felt. Sometimes, I guess, your cock has a mind of its own. Sometimes your cock has a better idea of what turns you on than your brain does.

It wasn’t too long before I was renting a few titles that a year ago I would have bet you a million dollars I would never even touch, much less watch, much less buy. Now here I was, standing in the BI/GAY section of my local adult bookstore and toy store, looking at photos of huge cocks and tight asses and getting a funny little butterflies-in-my-tummy sort of stirring in my body.

I started slow by selecting movies which featured threesomes, mostly two guys and one girl.

As time went on, though, I found myself fast-forwarding through the scenes with the girl and stopping on the scenes in which the two men turned their attention to each other. I would pump my cock slowly as I watched them strip. There was something about their hard, naked bodies which made my cock growl. I found the variety of body types and body color, cock size and shape and thickness intriguing.

I would lick my lips as they sucked those leaking mushroom heads past their lips and into their hungry mouths. I would even finger my own hole as they slid themselves into the man on all fours in front of them.

Porn is porn. It’s not about the story. It’s about the sex and the sex I was watching was hotter than anything I had ever seen before.

Eventually I chose movies in which there were no girls at all and started renting, and buying, gay movies. In no time I had quite the little collection of varied, but extremely erotic, gay porn.

The story lines and actors varied. Some of the movies featured young men doing it for the first time. I’m sure they weren’t really virgins but I let myself disappear into the fantasy. Some of the movies featured older men and younger men. My favorite movie though, and the one I seemed to playing almost daily, as I sat in my favorite leather chair with my baby lotion covered cock in hand, featured a pretty white boy and an older black man.

There was hardly any body hair on the younger man’s slender frame. His blonde hair was almost to his shoulders and shaggy. He had a pretty mouth and big green eyes. His ass was almost too perfect. It was pale white, a stark comparison to the rest of his tanned surfer boy body. It was almost girlish in a way. His cock was long and slender.

The other actor in the movie, playing the character of a football coach, was a black man who looked to be in his early forties. He was a thick, dark-skinned man who looked like he spent a great deal of time in the gym. His arms and legs were hard and muscled. His hair was shaved close to his head and he had a goatee. He reminded me a little of the actor who played Apollo Creed in the ROCKY movies.

Who was that? Damn. It had been so long since I had rented just a run-of-the-mill regular, not gay porn movie that I was beginning to forget stupid facts like that.

The actor playing Coach Jefferson in my favorite gay porn had a monster between his legs. I didn’t think it was possible to have a cock like that without a license or some sort of support.

What’s the old expression? A baby’s arm holding an apple?

Yeah. Well, Coach Jefferson had a big juicy apple on the end of his thick and heavily-veined shaft and blondie apparently loved apple.

Watching the older man seduce the younger man into first sucking his monster cock and then taking it between his tender cheeks and then past his little pink pucker was incredibly hot.

I didn’t know what it was about that movie that made me so hard or cum buckets but I didn’t care to analyze it. Then one night it hit me.

I was laid back in my chair, feet on the ottoman, naked from the waist down, stroking my hard, slick cock coated with baby lotion as the black man pounded the boy on all fours in front of him on a locker room bench. His pendulous balls spanked the boy’s white ass. The contrast of the two skin colors was stunning and very erotic. The boy squealed and cried. The coach’s hard cock slammed into him, occasionally slowing, teasing that well-stretched hole until the boy begged for more and pleaded “Don’t Stop!”

The coach was all too happy to oblige.

As I watched and stroked, biting my lip, the image of me being fucked by a hard black cock flashed in my mind. I closed my eyes, shutting off the image on my plasma tv, but my dirty thoughts continued.

Then another image entered into the movie I was playing in my head. It wasn’t just some anonymous black cock that was taking my cherry. It was Rocky’s. I’m not sure where that came from or why my subconscious chose that precise moment to fuck with my brain and cock.

I didn’t sleep well that night. There were just too many images swimming around in my head. I tossed and turned all night long.

It was that week that I made my most daring purchase from Candy’s to date. And before you get images of rubber or silicone baseballs bats painted to look like ‘realistic’ cocks, available in white or black and complete with balls and thick veins, I didn’t get one of those. I was looking for some self-pleasure. I was looking to break up concrete.

In the end, sorry for the pun, I bought myself a little toy, a plug, actually. Okay. Fine. I’ll say it. I bought myself a butt plug. It was pink and ribbed and made of silicone. It was about 6 inches long and had a little base, which as it turned out, featured a suction cup in case you wanted to mount, pardon the pun, your toy to a shower wall or a friend’s head, I guess.

I also bought some lube and the next time I watched my favorite movie I greased up my new little friend and slid it inside me. It took a little while. I’m was glad to see it was going to take some time and effort to convince my virgin ass to allow the intrusion.

I couldn’t believe the sensations I experienced as I pushed the slick little plug inside me. My dick got hard almost instantly. I laid a towel onto my chair and eased myself down, forcing the pink toy inside me to the hilt. When I turned the vibrator control on I swear I almost passed out. I saw stars and I came buckets. Needless to say my new toy became part of what was becoming an almost daily routine.

About a week later I ran into Rocky in the hall. His arms full of groceries and he was trying to get his keys out of his pocket. I ran down to him at his end of the hall and asked if I could help, if I could take one the bags out of his hands so he could fish his keys out of his work pants.

He said he had a grip on the 4 bags and that if I tried to pull one out, they were all gonna tumble onto the floor. He then suggested I reach into his pocket and grab his keys.

My face flushed and my stomach fluttered a little. I tried to suggest something else and he said he was about to lose everything. He told me he had several bottles of wine that he spent way too much for and he would hate to see them crash to the floor.

I got on my knees in front of him, noticing how he towered over me at the moment and reached my hand into his right pants pocket. It was a tight squeeze and I couldn’t help but slide my hand along his thick, muscular thigh. I finally felt the ring of his key-chain and slid a fingertip through it.

I also felt something else. Something stirring along the length of Rocky’s thigh. His cock. Like some enormous anaconda stirring from sleep it began to move against my hand slightly.

I quickly pulled my hand out of his pocket, unlocked his door, threw his keys onto the kitchen counter and bolted out the door, my face flushed. I jerked off a few minutes later, imagining myself, on my knees once again, in front of Rocky. I wasn’t looking for keys this time. I was sucking his huge, black cock. Nursing it like a baby nurses its bottle.

I climaxed into the toilet and collapsed on the bathroom floor.

What the Hell was wrong with me?

I was crushing on him…fantasizing about him…like some love-sick high school girl.

Later that day, as dark storm clouds loomed overhead, there was a knock on my door. I was wearing sloppy sweat pants, a little too tight on me nowadays, probably, and a tank top. When I answered the door I was surprised, and happy, to see Rocky standing there.

“Hello neighbor,” he said with that million dollar smile.

I fumbled with my words, there was my inner teen girl again, but somehow managed to invite him inside.

“Listen, Man, I wanted to thank you for helping me out earlier.”

I laughed and told him there was no need. I was just being neighborly.

“Hey. I was brought up proper,” he said, “When someone does something nice for you, you say thank you.”

He extended his strong hand and I took it in mine, my knees weakening, and shook it.

“I’d like to return the favor,” he said, flashing that smile.

I wasn’t sure, but it also looked like he gave me a quick once over. There was flirting in the man’s eyes and I had to convince myself that it wasn’t just my overactive imagination.

“What did you have in mind,” I asked, my voice shaking.

“You like MMA?” he asked.

I must have had a look on my face because he continued before I could answer.

“Mixed martial arts? Like Ultimate Fighting?”

“Oh. Yeah,” I squeaked, trying desperately to suppress my love-sick inner teen girl and muster some machismo, “I’ve seen a few matches.”

“Well,” he continued, once again his eyes traveling over my body, “There’s a great card on tonight. I’ve got a 52″ Plasma tv and some cold beer. I figured we could order some pizzas from Frankie’s and spend a few hours watching guys beat the shit outta each other.”

Oh my GOD. Rocky just asked me out on a date!

“Sounds awesome,” I said, my body shaking just a little, “What time?”

“The matches start at 8, but you can come over anytime after 7. I’ve got some stuff to do before then.”

Overhead thunder crashed and for a split second my apartment froze in the bright white of a flash of lightning.

My brain restarted and I said thanks for the invite. Rocky left and I stood in the same spot for about a full minute before I was able to move.

Rain began to crash against the windows outside. I looked at the clock. It was 6:26 P.M.

I went into my bedroom and started to pick out what I was going to wear. I kicked myself for acting like such a chick but something in me wanted to look nice for Rocky.

I knew I hadn’t imagined him letting his eyes travel slowly over my body.

“Was Rocky gay,” I wondered. Shit. “Was I?”

I decided on some jeans, a little tighter than they needed be, and a polo.

I headed into the shower. As the hot water pounded against my body, my hand traveled to my cock and I gave myself a few soapy strokes.

I stepped out of the shower, dried myself, and pumped some cologne into my hand. I chose a pair of blue and white striped cotton bikini briefs. They stretched across my taut buttocks and hugged my package nicely. I looked at my reflection in the mirror over my dresser. I turned and glanced back over my shoulder. I looked at my butt and thought that it looked as good as those I had seen in my movies.

I was thinking things I had never before thought and I was scared about what the night might bring.

I dressed and checked myself in the hall mirror. It was 7:22. It was now or never.

I left my apartment, locked the door and headed down the hall to Rocky’s apartment. I waited a second before knocking and breathed in slow and deep. Right before my knuckles made contact the door swung open. Rocky stood there smiling and he said as he escorted me inside,

“Heard you coming, buddy. Come on in. Come on in. Welcome to Casa de Rocky.”

Rocky was wearing a pair of loose-fitting gym shorts and a tank top and little white athletic socks. I was way over-dressed.

He looked good. The tank top hugged his tight, powerful body and showed off his muscles. The shorts were loose but not so loose that I couldn’t see the shape of his toned ass.

I was looking at another man’s ass.



He placed a hand on my shoulder and led me into his living room. Rocky’s apartment was very clean and actually well decorated. For a single man.

“Maybe too clean and too well decorated,” a little voice in my head whispered.

‘Have a seat man, either one you want,” he commanded as he head into the kitchen, adding “Ready for a cold one?”

Either one referred to the two large reclining leather chairs that sat in front of his entertainment center. They were like thrones. Over-stuffed and very inviting. I chose the one on the right.

“A cold one would be great. Thanks.”

I gave the apartment a quick once-over. It was clean and organized and immaculately decorated with little nick-nacks but I didn’t see one photo of a girlfriend or wife or children. There was one photo, in a glass frame, of an older woman I assumed was Rocky’s mother.

“That’s it! Rocky was gay,” I assured myself, “Okay,” I continued, “So now what? What does that mean? What does that mean for you?”

I had no idea.

“I guess I should have told you I was dressed causal. Sorry, Man. When I watch MMA, I like to be comfortable. Makes me miss my fighting days, I guess.”

“It’s cool, Man. It’s your place. A king can do what he wants in his own castle.”

“I want you to be comfortable. Don’t get me wrong. You look great Man.”

Again I caught his eyes traveling down my body and then back up again. Awkward.

“Thanks,” I said blushing.

“Kick off your shoes and stay a while.”

I did as my host suggested.

Rocky came back into the living room and handed me a frosty beer in a dark brown bottle.

“Only the best for my neighbors,” he said as he clinked his bottle against mine, “Cheers!”

“Cheers! And thanks again for the invite.”

Outside the storm that had been crashing into the building for over an hour now, intensified and the power flickered a few times.

Rocky seemed oblivious to the hurricane outside, “I took the liberty of ordering the pizza and some bread sticks. Hope you don’t mind?”

Rocky was establishing himself as the Alpha Male and so far I didn’t seem to mind.

“Not at all,” I said, sipping my beer, my eyes never leaving his.

“Mushroom and onion,” he said with the hint of a question in his voice.

“Perfect,” I said. Although at the moment, all I could think of was sausage. His.

We shot the shit for a few minutes as pre-fight interviews were conducted, the sound muted, in front of us on the huge high-def screen.

We talked about jobs and life and people we liked or didn’t like in the building.

There was a thunderous crash and a huge flash of lightning and then there was nothing. Everything went dark in an instant. The power went out as the storm reached new levels. The wind howled like a banshee outside and raindrops flew into the windows like bullets.

“Shit,” was all Rocky could say.

“Think it will come back on?” I asked.

“Probably not for awhile. It’s bad out there. I just didn’t think it would get this bad. Well, there go the matches. Shit.”

Rocky stood up and I heard his voice off in the corner of the room.

“It’s cool. We can hang for a bit and see what happens,” I said.

“THAT’S THE SPIRIT, my Man,” he shouted from somewhere in the dark, “I like that attitude. Fuck it! You’re right. Let’s just chill and see what happens.”

The storm continued to crash and slam into the building. From the sound of drawers opening and closing, I could tell Rocky was in the kitchen rustling for something. At some point he found a flashlight and turned it on. He shone the light in my eyes and asked, “You okay? Wanna another beer while the fridge is still cold?”

“Sure,” I said, “Might as well.”

“Might as well,” he mimicked, “I like that. You are one cool dude. So laid back. Yessir. I like that a lot,” he said as he handed me a beer.

Rocky left the living room and went towards the back of his apartment. I caught myself staring at his ass when the room lit up with a flash of lightning. He returned a few minutes later holding the flashlight and several candles, one of which was lit.

He put the lit candle on the kitchen counter.

“Might as well save the flashlight for when we really need it.’

We were a we now I noticed.

He placed several other candles in strategic places around his apartment and lit them. Within minutes the entire apartment was bathed in an orange glow and the scent of vanilla. I guessed one of the candles had been scented.

“I love vanilla,” he said as he fussed around in the shadows.

I choked on some beer, swallowed, and asked, “What did you say?”

“Vanilla. I love the smell of vanilla candles. Don’t you?”

“Uhhh…yeah. I love it too.”

Nerves had gotten the best of me and I was being stupid. I hoped Rocky didn’t pick up on it.

There was a knock on the door.

“Hope you’re okay with dinner by candlelight?’ he asked as he opened the door with his wallet in hand.

“Sure. Very romantic,” I joked and then realized how stupid that must have sounded. How gay and how stupid. If Rocky wasn’t gay he was probably thinking at this point that I was.

He paid the delivery boy and closed the door. The pizza smelled great. He put it on the coffee table and went into the kitchen for plates and napkins.

He returned with the supplies as well as two more beers and some red pepper flakes. We fixed our plates and clinked our beers in a toast to Mother Nature.

Three pieces of pizza into dinner, as the storm raged on, I complimented Rocky on his choice for dinner and offered to pay for at least half. He wouldn’t hear it and added that he had invited me for dinner and fights. We agreed to agree on that point and enjoyed more pizza and guy talk.

As our stomach filled, Rocky leaned back into the soft leather of his recliner and asked me, “So tell me, Kyle. Are you gay?”

I nearly choked and spat out a piece of pizza into a napkin.

“WHAT?” I asked.

“It’s a simple question, Buddy. Are you gay?”

I couldn’t speak.

“I mean,” he continued, “It’s not like there’s any gray areas, you either are…or you’re not. Do you like men?”

“Uhhh…..,” was all I could manage at first and then I caught my breath, “NO. I’m not gay. Why do you ask?”

“Just thought I would ask. Let’s just say it was a hunch I had. Makes no never mind to me if you aren’t,” he paused and leaned forward, his eyes locking onto mine, “…or if…you are.”

“Are you gay, Rocky?” I asked boldly.

“Yes, Kyle. I am.”


“Surprised?” he asked leaning in just a little bit more.

“Uhhh…no. I mean…I’ll admit you don’t..That is to say….You…”

Please someone just shoot me.

Rocky bellowed a laugh and said in between breaths, “It’s cool, Little Brother. It’s all good. I know what you’re saying. Yes. I am gay. There. The cat is out of the closet.”

That broke the tension and we both laughed.

Thunder and lighting exploded outside.

“Why did you ask if I was gay? Do I-”

“Look gay?,” he interrupted, “No My Man, you don’t look gay. Then he paused, looked into my eyes smiling again and asked, “Do I?”

“No. I mean. Fuck!”

We both laughed again.

“So,” he started, “You’ve never been with a man?”


“Never fooled around with a friend in high school? You know. A hand-job between friends during a sleepover? A blow-job in the shower?”

“GOD no,” I snapped back.

I wasn’t about to tell him that during my Sophomore year in high school, my best friend and I had found a box of magazines behind a gas station. Most of the magazines were gay men’s magazines and were filled with photo after photo of cocks and asses and balls and men doing things to one another.

In a moment of clumsy teen experimentation we had sucked each other’s cocks and jerked off one another in the shower.

I wasn’t about to tell Rocky that but something told me he already knew.

“It’s cool. It’s cool. I’m not judging.”

“Why did you ask then?” I said a little more forcibly.

Rocky sat on the edge of his recliner, his arms resting on his knees and smiling said, “I’m just curious is all. You see. I’m trying to figure out why a guy who says he isn’t gay, who says he doesn’t think about men…that way…and who has never so much as jerked his best friend’s cock in high school or middle school or whenever the Fuck. I’m trying to figure out why a guy like that-a good looking white guy I might add-would buy himself a whole collection of movies that feature men sucking and fucking one another.”

“OH MY GOD!!” my brain screamed.

He continued, “Or why a straight guy would buy himself a butt plug.”

My face went white.

Rocky knew. He knew I was buying gay porn. He knew and he had probably imagined me sitting there in my favorite chair, jerking my white cock to my favorite movie. Red-faced, sweaty, and cumming as I pictured him sliding his monster cock inside me.

“How did you know? I asked in a barely audible tone.

“My cousin Tanita works at The Toy Chest. She noticed you here one day, in the hallway, as we walked past each other. She remembered you from the store and how I have a thing for pretty white boys. She thought you were gay and thought I should introduce myself and see where it went from there.”

All I could manage was, “Pretty white boys? You think I’m-”

“Very cute. Handsome. And yes. In some ways you are very pretty. And I am attracted to you.”

I must have made a face.

“Don’t worry. I don’t think of you as a girl. I’m not imagining you in panties and little dresses. If that’s your thing, though, I can roll…”

I was stunned.

“No. It’s not my thing. I don’t wear girl’s clothes. Never have.”

“Are you attracted to me, Kyle?”

He was reading me like a book. There was no way I could lie to him.

“Yes,” I whispered, my eyes never leaving his.

“Well now. I appreciate the honesty. I know that wasn’t easy for you to say.”

“Actually easier than I thought it would be.”

“I knew a while back.”

I looked at him, a little hurt.

“That is to say I had my suspicions a while back but knew for sure when you reached into my pants pocket for my apartment keys. No straight man would do that, Baby,” he reached out and ran his fingertips through my hair, “and I knew right then and there. It’s why my cock twitched a little.”

I swallowed hard.

“You felt it didn’t, you? You felt my cock move, responding to your touch?”


“And what did you feel when you knew you were touching my cock?’

“I liked it. So much in fact that-”

“You went home and thought about it and jerked off.”

It wasn’t a question and I didn’t need to answer. All he need do was look in my eyes which were telling him “Yes. Yes I did.”

“And did you slide your little toy inside you,” he said with a glint in his eyes, “slide it in all the way and then sit down on it. Feeling it fill you up. All the while pretending it was a real cock. That a man was fucking your hot little white ass?”


“Did you imagine it was my cock, Kyle?”

“Yessss,” I said licking my lips and dripping sweat, “Yes. I imagined it was your cock inside me as I pumped my cock.”

“So where do we go from here?” he asked, flashing that goddamn million dollar smile.

“I dunno,” I answered. Although there was a list of things of things I had been dreaming about.

Rocky stood and I saw that his cock was waking. His loose gym shorts were tented but I knew he hadn’t grown to his full length. I licked my lips. My heart raced.

“Come here. Come to me.”

I stood and walked, legs wobbly, to him.

When I was right in front of him, he placed his strong hands on my hips and pulled me to him. My mouth met his and we kissed. Fingers slid down to my ass and he cupped my cheeks as his tongue slipped past my lips and into my mouth.

I gasped.

I sucked his tongue as if it were his cock and his moans and firmer grip onto my ass told me he approved.

We kissed for an eternity before he pulled away and told me to undress.

I obeyed the Alpha Male before me and pulled my polo over my head, tossing it to somewhere in the shadows. I unbuttoned my jeans and slid them down, stepped out of them and kicked them aside.

I was now standing before a handsome man I had been fantasizing about for weeks now in just little cotton bikini briefs. His cock was obliviously hard and my was not only stirring, but it was also leaking a steady stream of pre-cum.

“Damn. You have a nice body, Kyle. Very nice.”

He kissed my neck and then took each hard nipple into his mouth. He flicked his tongue on them and sucked on them gently.

His tongue then went back to my neck and he nibbled on an ear lobe. He kissed my ear and whispered, “I’m going to take your cherry tonight. Make you mine. You can leave if you want, and there will be no hard feelings. We’ll never speak of this again. But I know you want to stay. So tell me. Tell me, Kyle. Tell me that what I’m doing is okay and that you want to continue. I want to make love to you, but I don’t want to force you. You have to want this as badly as I do.”

I answered by grabbing his cock through his cock and squeezing it. I kissed his lips hard and told him, “Yes. Yes, please. Make me yours.”

A black fingertip circled my left nipple and traced down along the trail of almost invisible blonde hair to my navel. Then it went further. My cock twitched. He stepped closer and his hands slipped into the waistband of my underwear. He slid them down slowly, teasing me as his fingertips brushed against my skin, lowering his body has he did. Finally he slid the thin underpants over each foot and tossed the little bundle away.

And there he knelt before me, my fantasy man, my cock twitching just inches from his face.

I closed my eyes, bracing myself on his broad shoulders, as he kissed my cock. His thick lips pressed into my velvety mushroom head and he kissed it long and slow. Then he pulled away and licked away the glaze of pre-cum that was forming.

I gasped.

Then Rocky slid his lips over the end of my throbbing cock and slid himself forward. His hands were now on my ass, spreading my white cheeks apart. Cool air tickled my hot little pucker. I spread my stance a little, letting him know there was nothing he couldn’t with me…to me.

He sucked my cock into his throat, coating it with spit as he slid along its length. His fingers slid in deeper and brushed against my virgin hole. I moaned and my fingers held his head tight, pulling him onto my cock. Rocky had obliviously sucked a cock or two in his day, and the combination of his extremely talented mouth and his hands massaging my ass were making me purr like a kitten.

Rocky pulled back, threatening to pull all the way off, but at the last moment pushed forward again and swallowed me whole. He repeated this motion for the next few minutes. He was driving me insane and I felt myself change with every second that past.

He finally pulled off my cock and took my balls into his mouth. He bathed them gently, sucking and kissing them for a minute or two before returning to my spasming cock. It didn’t take too much longer. Especially when his index finger slipped past my sphincter. I squealed like a girl and shot my load into his mouth.

He held me tight, sucking every drop down his throat. My whole body shuddered and I called out, TO whoever would listen that I had just received the best blow job I had ever experienced. Luckily the thunder outside was louder.

Rocky pulled himself off my softening cock and stood. He looked into my eyes and kissed me with thick lips glazed with my own cum. His tongue slid into my mouth once again and I tasted my own semen. I kissed and sucked and cleaned him, not caring anymore what was gay or who was gay or what happened from that point on.

Then Rocky said, “It’s your turn, Baby Boy. Take my cock and show me what it is you’ve dreaming about. Show me what you’ve learned from all those movies you’ve been watching.”

He didn’t need to ask twice. I got on my knees and slid his gym shorts down as I did. The scent of his man-sex hit me and I got lightheaded. His cock was snaking its way out of his thin nylon briefs and I thought it best to release it before it ripped through the material.

I slipped shaking fingertips into his waistband and pulled down his briefs. His cock fell out and at first lurched upwards, but its own weight pulled it down and it swung like a black hammer between his legs and almost to his knees.

I marveled at the feel of it as I gripped it with both hands. It was smooth and hard like steel. It looked to be carved from marble and from the weight of it, it could have been. Thick veins wrapped themselves around the thick purple-black shaft like grapevine. The head was as big as half of a ripe apple and leaking clear liquid by the quarts.

I leaned forward and flicked my tongue into his slit and lapped at the milky substance, feeling the salty tang. I swallowed and went back for more, smiling like the kid who gets to lick the cake batter off a spoon.

I capped the large pinkish head with my lips, slowly dragging them across the sandpaper surface. I blew gently and sucked tenderly. I must have been doing something right because Rocky was breathing in deep and I heard an occasional “yesssssss” escape from his lips.

His fingers slid through my hair and slowly, patiently, he pulled me closer towards him, my mouth sliding along his cock. I choked a few times and he stopped, allowing me to adjust and open myself to him.

He called me ‘Baby Boy’ and told me I was doing ‘such a good job.’

I found myself wanting to please him. My left hand traveled to his heavy balls and cupped them. I marveled at their size and could feel his cum churning inside, boiling and aching for release.

I bobbed on a quarter of Rocky’s cock. That quarter being just a bit smaller than my own. Pulling off and pushing forward. I tried to imagine all the scenes I had watched over and over again. I did my best to channel the men in my dirty, gay movies.

I spit on his cock and soaked it thoroughly as I milked it with my lips.

At some point, for I no longer cared about time, Rocky pulled me off his cock and took my hand, helping me stand.

I saw our bodies bathed in candlelight. It was an image I never wanted to forget.

Rocky led me to the recliner I had been sitting in and had me bend over. He was in control now and I did as he requested and leaned forward. I braced myself, feet spread apart.

Rocky knelt down once again and I felt his hands spread my tender cheeks. It wasn’t fingertips this time that slipped in between my white cheeks. It was Rocky’s face and before I could say anything, he flicked his tongue against my little pucker. I shouted into the stormy night. My cries once again covered by crashing thunder, knowing no one would hear me. And really who cared if someone did? I surely didn’t.

Rocky pressed his tongue inside me and his lips brushed against my outer ring. His tongue pressed forward and then pulled back. He was fucking me with his tongue and my fists balled in ecstasy and clawed at the leather of the recliner.

Rocky licked and kissed my virgin for hole. His hands spread my cheeks and he pressed forward as I squirmed and squealed. He told me he had been dreaming of this moment and had jerked his hard cock thinking about eating my ass like this.

I told him I had similar dreams.

He asked me if I jerked off while he thought about him eating my beautiful ass and I said ‘yes.’ He spanked me playfully and said, ‘That’s my boy.”

After a minute or two of loosening me up with his tongue and lips, Rocky stopped briefly, giving me a chance to catch my breath. I couldn’t stop shaking. I couldn’t believe the electric sensations ricocheting through my body.

Outside it sounded like the storm was subsiding but I didn’t care. I wanted Rocky to continue what he was doing. I got my wish a split second later when a slick finger slipped inside me. It twisted and turned and pumped in and out of me until it was joined by a second and then a third.

This was nothing like my little pink toy. This was flesh and blood. And I knew I was going to be getting a lot more flesh. I had seen enough gay porn to know that Rocky was stretching me, preparing my virgin hole for his cock. I pushed out to meet his thrusting fingers. I bit my lip as he pulled at the lips of my man-pussy. He opened me wide and licked at me, coating my hungry little ring with another coat of saliva.

Then he stopped and stood up. He took my hands once more and spun me around as he sat down in his recliner. He sat straight up, his back pressed into the distressed leather. There was sweat on his brow and in the candlelight I saw this mouth was glazed over with spit.

He turned me so that my back was to him. I looked back at him and saw him admiring my ass. I was glad it turned him on. I wanted him to find me sexy. I couldn’t resist and bent over his cock and grabbed it with both hands, bringing it to my mouth. I took his coc k head into my mouth and sucked. I made it wet and slippery as best as I could. Then I pulled off it quickly and turned back away from him.

Rocky pulled my cheeks apart as I stepped back towards him with small baby steps. I tried my best to aim myself at the large wet mushroom head he was offering to me.

I felt it slip between my cheeks and press against my aching hole.

Rocky’s voice whispered, “Push out, Baby Boy. Let Daddy in.”

I loved him being my Daddy. I loved being his Baby Boy.

I pushed out like I was trying to shit and the head of his cock slipped inside me. I sucked all the air out of the room. Rocky paused and allowed me to get used to the monster that had just entered me. I felt my ass spasm around it. After a minute or two, as the pain subsided, I found myself sliding backwards, onto Rocky’s cock.

Luckily he had done a near perfect job of stretching me and making me wet for him.

Even though, I felt as if I would split in two.

Rocky stuffed his cock inside me. My own cock sprang to life as he buried himself into me. I finally found myself impaled on Rocky’s black beauty. He was inside me. All the way. Every bit of him was inside me and I was happier than I had ever been. My ass was on fire but the pain was slowly being taken over by other sensations. Good sensations. It was incredible.

I could feel Rocky’s pubes brush against my super-sensitive ass cheeks. I ground into him, unbelievable as it sounds, trying to feed more of him inside me.

I felt his hands on my hips. He started to lift me off his cock and then he pulled me back down. His slick cock was soon pistoning in and out. I was moaning louder now and he was calling me things like his “pretty little white boy.”

I was pounding myself onto his cock. His balls spanked up against my cheeks. My own cock was bouncing too and aching for release.

Rocky grabbed it in one hand and pumped it. It only took a minute before I exploded all over myself and into his hand. He took his cum-coated fingers and fed them into my gaping mouth. I sucked his fingers clean. I licked at them, along the length of each finger and nursed on the tips, cleaning every bit of my own cum off of them as his monster cock slid in and out of me.

Rocky grabbed both hips now and pulled me down onto his cock with every one of my downward thrusts. He was close. I knew it. I was about to have a man cum in my ass.

I braced myself.

His cock spasmed and seemed to grow thicker.

He cried out, ” OHSHIT!! HERE IT COMES, BABY BOY!!!”

And then he exploded into me, showering my insides with what seemed like 50 gallons of cum for what seemed like forever. His cock twitched and his body shook as I milked every drop out of him with my ass muscles.

I collapsed forward and he pushed forward. His cock softened enough to slide out of me. I felt empty and wanted him back inside me.

I wouldn’t have long to wait.

Rocky took my hand and turned me, laying me back onto the recliner, on my back. He took my ankles and placed them on his broad shoulders. He scooted forward and once again slipped inside me.

He looked down at me, smiling.

I was totally spent but smiled back at him.

His cock slid all the way back in and I bit my lip. I put the tip of my index finger into my mouth as he started to long-dick me. Taking long, slow strokes, he would pull almost completely out of me and then push forward with a grunting thrust. This was animal sex now.

As the electric golf cart rumbled along the path away from the eighteenth hole, it’s driver was excited and impatient.

“Well, come on, girl! Don’t keep me in suspense. How did I do?!”

The teenager sitting directly behind her frowned, trying to tot up the figures scratched onto the score card despite the swaying of the cart and the way she kept getting jostled by a bag of golf clubs.

“Just give me a minute, would you?” answered Daisy Newton grumpily.

Well aware of why her friend was having so much trouble but unable to resist a little good-natured teasing, the young woman sitting next to her inquired sweetly, “Are you running out of fingers? Maybe you should take your shoes off and count toes, as well.”

Daisy didn’t even bother to look over at her. “Quiet, Cindy.”

“It’s okay, really. I mean, sure it’ll stink, but I’m sure we could hold our breaths until your done,” Cindy Haltom continued with a giggle.

“I said, be quiet,” she told her, giving her a sideways look and a little smirk. “You don’t want me to come over there.”

Both of the two younger women in the back seat of this lumbering, oversized golf cart were college girls who had taken jobs here at the Brookhaven Country Club to earn themselves a little spending money. Not only did the club pay more than any fast food place would have, the working conditions were much better and the club members tended to be not only well off, but big tippers. That the two club members who were now sitting in front of them also offered certain very enjoyable extracurricular opportunities was an unexpected and unusual but not unwelcome bonus.

Though Cindy and Daisy had only met each other relatively recently, they had nonetheless become fast friends. That process had been helped considerably by certain events that had occurred the last couple of times they had caddied for these two women, events that made it permissible for them to relate to these two in a much more relaxed way that they ever could with any of the club’s other members.

“Hush, the both of you,” Cassie Johnston told them, carefully steering the cart and ignoring the chuckles from the woman beside her. She didn’t want to stray off the path and have that lunatic groundskeeper feel the need to bark at her again for tearing up the fairways. “What’s the matter back there, girl? Weren’t you just bragging that you were getting straight A’s in that trigonometry class? I wouldn’t have thought you would have so much trouble with a little adding.”

Daisy heaved a frustrated sigh, looking up at last from the card. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Johnston, but it’s just a little hard to do when I’m bouncing around like this. To tell the truth, I think I’m getting a little car sick.”

“Well why didn’t you say so, girl?! We can fix that right now.”

There was a small stand of trees up in front of them, the path curving around it before continuing on up to the course’s club house, so Cassie pulled over to the side and stopped where they would have some shade from the summer sun. “Okay then, let’s see how fast you can get those numbers added up now.”

Sitting beside her in the golf cart’s front seat, Brenda Andrews just shook her head as she watched her best friend eagerly twist sideways in her seat just as soon as they were stopped so that she could watch the younger woman do her figuring.

Members in good standing at the club and lifelong friends, Cassie and Brenda were now in the twilight of long, happy lives. Retirement was treating them both well and, finding themselves financially comfortable and with copious amounts of leisure time, they were thoroughly enjoying spending that time with their husbands, their children, and their grandchildren. However, they also held a secret that would have scandalized their families, not to mention all of their society friends. It was this secret that had led to their becoming so very friendly with these two young caddies and specifically asking for them whenever they wanted to go golfing.

“You’d better hurry, Daisy,” Brenda was telling the teenager “She’s getting herself so wound up that I’m starting to worry she’s going to have a seizure or something.”

“Just one more minute. I’m almost done.” In fact it was just under a minute before Daisy finished her work. “Done!”

Cassie practically snatched the score card away from the girl, pointedly ignoring her friend’s disapproving frown as she quickly scanned the numbers. Suddenly she was laughing and bouncing in her seat, going so far as to punch a fist into the air and even letting out a whoop.

“So, did you do well, Mrs. Johnston?” Cindy had waited until she’d paused to catch his breath, asking her question in a voice whose innocence was belied by the smile quirking her lips.

“I did it!” Cassie crowed. “I finally did it!”

Brenda was leaning closer to get a look at that score card, trying to figure out what had her so excited. “You did?”

“I did!” Cassie met her halfway by thrusting the card out under her nose for just a moment, then flashing it at each of the girl’s behind them in turn. “After a lifetime of playing this stupid game, I’ve finally managed to come in under par!”

This was obviously a big deal to her and so the other three each took a moment to put aside the playful teasing and offer their sincere congratulations, all of them genuinely happy for her.

“Thank you, thank you. I can’t wait to show this to my husband, Jack. He’ll probably swallow his dentures when he hears that I pulled this off before he did.” She turned back to face forward again, settling into her chair and positively beaming at that wondrous and historic score card. “You know what? I just might even frame this thing!”

“If you’re going to do that, dear,” Brenda told him with a grin, “I would get it blown up first. That way you won’t have to go find your bifocals every time you want to have a look at it.”

“Oh, har, har.” Cassie ignored both the jibe and the giggling from the backseat, far too delighted with her accomplishment to really be annoyed with all of this teasing. “Your just jealous that you can’t do it. What was your score again?” Her hand darted out and grabbed her friend’s card before she could get rid of it. “Oh, yes, you ended up with better than twice the par score, didn’t you?”

The old woman next to her responded only with a sour look, sticking her tongue out at her.

“Don’t get me wrong, it’s always great fun to spend a day out here with you two ladies, but if this club didn’t pay so well, you wouldn’t see me anywhere near a golf course. It just seems like kind of a dumb game to me,” Cindy confessed.

Cassie looked back at her, raising an eyebrow. “And how would you know, young lady? Exactly how many golf balls have you ever hit?”

“None at all,” the girl readily admitted. “But then I don’t really have the time what with beating all the boys off with a stick.” She playfully posed herself just a little to emphasize her point as she added, “In case you haven’t noticed, I happen to be one fabulous babe.”

“You certainly are.” Daisy’s response was not quite under her breath as she dragged her eyes slowly over her friend in open admiration.

The older woman ahead of her grunted in agreement, her own eyes on the firm young breasts that were now jutting towards her so conspicuously, but tried to cover it with some obviously fake coughing.

It occurred to Cassie that a little celebration of her marvelous achievement was in order and the thought of having it right here on the golf course, the very scene of this triumph, was just too perfect an idea to let slip by. However lovely she was though, it was not Cindy who would be going to this party with her.

As subtly as she could, she took a look around the parked cart to see where the club house was from here and how far away the other golfers were today. Next, she turned her gaze onto the little clump of trees, judging how large the stand was and if the trees were growing thick enough to keep her celebration out of sight.

The other three in the cart just watched all this and waited, well aware of what was coming and finding Cassie’s attempt to be discrete a trifle amusing.

“You know,” Cassie announced at length, trying hard to make it sound like a mere afterthought and not at all succeeding, “I seem to recall that the last time I was up here playing with Jack, one of my balls went off into these very trees.”

Daisy and Cindy were smiling openly at the blatant lie – choosing not to mention just how far off course this imaginary ball would have to have been to end up clear down here in the trees. It was Brenda who decided to see where her best friend was going with this.


“So, as long as we’re right here, I thought I’d go and see if I could find it.” Before any of the others could react to that statement, she was already pushing herself up and out of the cart, pausing a moment to enjoy a nice stretch.

Cindy couldn’t just let it pass without comment though and challenged her with a knowing smirk. “But you’ve got plenty of golf balls, Mrs. Johnston. Why go hunting through the undergrowth for one you must have lost close to a month ago?”

She scowled at the teen. “Young lady, aren’t you the one who’s always telling me about conservation and recycling? Seems to me that you’d be glad to know I wasn’t littering the landscape with golf balls. Besides, those things don’t grow on trees. There’s no point in just leaving it out here to go to waste.”

She turned away and took a step or two towards the trees, rubbing her chin speculatively. “Daisy, maybe you should come and give me a hand with this. All I know is that the damn ball is in here somewhere, but I don’t have the foggiest idea where and young eyes are always the keenest.”

Daisy gave the other two a wink and climbed out of the cart. “Sure, Mrs. Johnston.” She took a moment to reach into one of the golf bags to retrieve a putter and a small package before moving to Cassie’s side. The older woman claimed the golf club from her immediately to use as a walking stick on the uneven ground in there.

Trouble-maker that she was, Cindy couldn’t resist. “Do you want me to come help, too?”

It was plain that she didn’t. “Um, no, you’d better stay there and keep an eye on Brenda.”

The golfer and her caddy slipped between the trees and were soon out of sight. Only then did Cindy and Brenda give in and laugh out loud.

“I can’t believe that Mrs. Johnston still goes to all that trouble when she wants to get laid,” Cindy said, wiping the tears from her eyes.

Brenda shrugged, a big smile on her face. “What you must understand, dear, is that we grew up in more modest times. Cassie doesn’t like to talk about her sex life and honestly does hope that we don’t know that she’s dragging Daisy off into those woods to screw her brains out.”

Cindy scooted up to the edge of her seat behind the older woman. “Do you want to sneak in there and watch my friend give your’s a work out?”

Brenda shook her head, laughing. “I think Cassie would die if she ever found out that she’d fucked in front of an audience.”

Cindy chuckled too, gently pulling some of the older woman’s hair back to better expose her neck. “I guess we’ll just have to have to have our own fun then.” Bending in, she planted a feather light kiss on the side of her neck.

A shiver of pleasure coursed through Brenda, a sigh escaping her lips.

* * *

Cassie led the way into the woods and, though she had claimed to be hunting for a lost ball, she didn’t spend a whole lot of time studying the ground under her feet or poking around in the undergrowth.

Instead, she was searching out something very specific.

What she wanted was a nice, open space where they would have some room to move around, but that also had a good screen of trees around it which would shield her and her caddy from view. The club house was not overly far away from here and, knowing that some people occasionally used binoculars to watch the golfers from the big windows, the last thing she wanted was to inadvertantly give someone an eyeful. Likewise, she did not want to be anywhere that could be seen by anyone else who happened to be on the course today or even by the couple they had left behind in the golf cart.

It was not such an easy place to find considering how small this stand of trees was, but she finally found a patch of ground that pleased her.

She dropped her putter and turned then to face the younger woman, a smile tugging at her lips.

Considering that she had brought along that package, there was no question that Daisy knew what they had really come here for and so Cassie didn’t have to waste time with subtlety or seduction. Seeing the answering smile the coed wore was the final piece of evidence that told her that Daisy not only knew what they were here for, but was fully prepared to let it happen.

Cassie motioned the young woman forward, taking the package from her when she obeyed and letting it fall carelessly to the ground.

The last few inches between the two women were quickly closed as Cassie slipped one arm around her caddy’s middle and pulled her firmly up against herself, her other hand rising to the back of Daisy’s head. The young woman responded by enfolding her in a tight embrace and allowing herself to be kissed tenderly on the lips.

That first kiss was followed by another and then another. Each was deeper than the last, more passionate and more hungry. Soft growls of pleasure were rising from the backs of their throats even before their lips parted so that their tongues could wrestle and dance together. Both were left breathless when the kissing stopped, their eyes dancing.

“Mmmmm,” Cassie sighed. “I think one of the best decisions I ever made was letting you seduce me, you horny little slut.”

The caddy seemed surprised. “Me? As I recall, this was all your idea, Cassie Johnston.”

Cassie laughed, kissing her again. “You may be right, but it was still a good idea.”

* * *

“Oh, my, God,” the old woman whispered huskily. “Oh, that feels so good.”

Reaching around the seat and the woman who was in it, Cindy stroked Brenda’s face gently even as she kissed her cheek, nibbled at her neck, and traced the contours of her ear with her tongue. Brenda’s eyelids were fluttering and she was moaning softly, both hands griping the body of the golf cart so tightly that her knuckles had turned white.

Cindy was breathing hard as she worked and her face was flushed, enjoying this every bit as much as her victim was.

At length, that caressing hand drifted down from Brenda’s face and claimed her throat, at one point tenderly stroking it and at another firmly griping it. It was an expression of ownership and control that nobody else in all the world would dare try with this rich and well connected woman and it never failed to make Brenda Andrews weak in the knees, panting for air as she put herself completely at her young lover’s mercy.

Cindy continued to work with her lips and her hand, slowly and carefully turned the bonfire of desire within the other woman into a blazing and uncontrollable inferno. She was always amazed by how readily Brenda responded to even a little domination and suspected that she would have made someone a marvelous little love slave if someone had only brought out her submissive side a little earlier.

Leaning forward a little more to look down the woman’s front, Cindy found more evidence of Brenda’s arousal. Her large nipples were so hard at that point that she wondered how they could possibly not be punching holes straight through her top. The girl smiled, well pleased with the way things were going.

Glancing around quickly to make sure that they were still all alone and that none of the distant golfers seemed to be paying any attention to this stopped cart or the clump of trees, the coed smiled deviously.

With this woman already putty in her hands, it was time to get a lot more intimate.

* * *

Cassie now found herself backed up against a tree with her blouse wide open, the front catch of her bra open. She still had the generously sized breasts that used to wow the guys back when she was in her prime, but these days they sagged quite a bit without the support of her bra. Daisy was undeterred by this however.

It was with quite a bit of relish that the girl was feasting on the other woman’s breasts, both hands ceaselessly moving all over those big udders.

Moaning in a deep and husky voice as she enjoyed her young lover’s efforts, letting out a little yelp whenever the girl gave the tender flesh a little nip, Cassie cradled Cindy’s head in both hands and just let her do whatever she liked. Certainly, she had never yet had cause to complain about anything this talented lady might wish to do with her.

“Oh, Daisy . . .” she panted needily.

That brought the caddy’s head up and she met the older woman’s eyes with a wide smile.

Backing off a step or two in order to give herself some room while still remaining close enough to interfere with Cassie’s heart rate, Daisy started to strip off the tasteful but unflattering uniform the club demanded that all of it’s caddies wear. In no time at all, she had peeled off every last stitch of clothing she was wearing and struck a pose to give the old woman the full effect of her nudity.

As usual, Cassie was left utterly speechless when she was faced with such a vision. She was not silent though as an urgent, keening whine rose from her.

When Daisy then motioned her forward, Cassie came at a run.

A moment later found the old woman kneeling on the carpet of grass with the girl standing over her, one leg raised and hooked over Cassie’s shoulder. With both hands raised to firmly clasp her young lover’s taut buttocks – which had the added benefit of helping to support the now precariously balanced girl, Cassie was hungrily devouring the college girl’s juicy cunt. Moaning ecstatically as she was eaten alive, Daisy had both hands on the other woman’s head and was pushing her face ever more firmly into her boiling depths.

Cassie was a skillful carpet-muncher and they both knew that it would not be long before Daisy was coming with numbing force.

* * *

Cindy no longer had the other woman by the throat.

That hand had drifted farther down and come to rest for a time on Brenda’s chest, just above the full swell of her bosom. Cindy’s other hand was now on the side of the older woman’s face, turning her head so that she could kiss her long and hard full on the mouth, their tongues dueling and wrestling fiercely.

It was only after they considered each other thoroughly kissed that the hand Cindy had on the older woman’s chest started to move again. Pulling her head back at long last, Cindy just gazed silently into her eyes as her nimble fingers worked to unbutton Brenda’s blouse, pulling it wide open to reveal everything within. Breathing hard, her heart pounding so hard and fast it felt like it might burst right through her rib cage, letting out long and shuddering sighs every time the younger woman’s fingertips so much as brushed her skin, Brenda seemed transfixed by what she saw in Cindy’s eyes and never once looked away from them.

Never once looking down at what she had just uncovered for fear of breaking that nearly mystical connection their eyes seemed to have formed, Cindy let her hand come to rest again on the other woman’s chest. This time it was skin against skin though, flesh against flesh, and the reaction from Cindy was so much stronger.

Unable to catch her breath, the old woman let out a hoarse, gasping moan and trembled under her young lover’s practiced touch.

Cindy’s hand started to drift downwards, moving slowly and caressingly over the plump breasts that were there.

The sensations rushing through Brenda were clearly almost more than she could bear and that trembling was becoming more pronounced by the moment. Her mouth was open, her lips formed into an “O” shape, but this time there was no way she could have made any kind of sound at all as all her breath was needed for respiration.

Later, in calmer times when nobody was groping her, she would wonder if being with this young girl might be dangerous. The way the girl aroused such incredibly intense feelings in her occasionally made her wonder if Cindy’s attentions might one day give her a heart attack or a stroke or something. It was something that she thought about, but it was not enough to scare her away from her young mistress.

With a husband who was much more concerned these days with puttering around in his little work shop than in seeing to his wife’s very real needs, these little trysts with Cindy were just about the only sex she was having anymore.

Besides, if you have to go, why not leave this earth joyously happy and with the biggest smile possible on your face?

Meanwhile, Cindy was starting to notice something as her hand covered more and more of that silky smooth titty flesh. She could feel lots and lots of Brenda to be sure, but she wasn’t encountering very much in the way of underwear. She knew for a fact that her lover had worn a bra today, but she was surprised to realize that there wasn’t a whole lot to it.

Unable to resist, she had to look down to see for herself what her lover had worn to the golf course today. Her eyes widened when she saw that it was one of those little shelf bras that gave a girl support, but also left almost the entire boob exposed. Why, she could ever see the nipples, which by now looked as hard as diamonds! This was the kind of thing that the girl imagined strippers and prostitutes would wear and she was plainly shocked to find it adorning a dignified member of high society.

Her eyes rose to meet Brenda’s again and the older woman looked away shyly, her face a blazing red.

“I knew I was going to see you today,” Brenda offered in a hushed voice, sounding like she was hoping for the younger woman’s approval. “I wanted to wear something sexy for you. Walking around in front of everyone in something like this . . .” Her voice trailed off for a moment as she finally dared to raise her head and meet the girl’s eyes again. “I felt like such a slut.”

Cindy held the old woman’s gaze for a long moment – an instant when the whole world seemed to stand still for Brenda as she awaited the girl’s verdict.

Then, Brenda suddenly found herself being kissed passionately, their lips crushing together as the girl all but shoved her tongue down her throat. At the same time, the hand on her breast closed around the peak, pinching and tugging and twisting that sensitive nipple good and hard and causing her to gasp as electric jolts coursed through her entire body. She had never felt anything so intense before and her brain was on the verge of overloading as she was handled so very roughly.

At that moment, she was so very glad that she happened to be sitting down right now as Brenda was positive her legs would never have been able to support her.

Drawing her face back again, Cindy spoke in a firm, confident voice that would brook no argument or denial. “Did I ever mention how much I like slutty older women?”

As she was kissed again, Brenda all but swooned in the girl’s arms.

* * *

The signs were unmistakable – Daisy was going to have a huge orgasm.

Her breath was coming in short, violent gasps, her eyes were rolling back in her head, her whole body was swaying wildly and would surely have toppled over by now had the woman beneath her not been supporting her, and she was rubbing Cassie’s face good and hard into her cunt to liberally coat her with her love.

Cassie literally gloried in the fact that she had the power and the skill to make someone feel so very good.

She had a great many fond memories of making her husband writhe and wail just like this over the course of their long and happy marriage, but that was apparently all in the past now. It had been ages since anything even slightly romantic had happened in their bedroom and so it was probably not too surprising that she should have ended up in the arms of another.

The problem was that the passing years were taking their toll on him and he had a lot of trouble these days getting his little soldier to stand at attention for her. She had certainly suggested that he might need to seek out some help, but his male ego was far too strong and so he could not admit either to himself or to some specialist that he was having trouble in that area. She had perhaps gone a bit too far in trying to badger him into admitting that their was a problem and so now he tended to shy away from his own wife whenever the mood turned even the slightest bit romantic.

Cassie had such a strong sex drive that she figured that she would have keeled over from frustration by now if Daisy hadn’t started picking up the slack every once in a while.

Speaking of which, Cassie now judged her girl to be teetering at the edge of the chasm and so she was more than happy to push her over the brink by sliding one long finger all the way up into her ass.

Daisy finally lost all control then and succumbed to a massive climax.

It was very fortunate that she had been having so much trouble catching her breath as the noise she made when she came would otherwise have been heard for miles around. Certainly, the couple waiting for them in the golf cart would have heard it anyway and that would have been very embarrassing to Cassie. It was not that she was under any illusions that they didn’t know why she had really dragged Daisy off into these trees, but that also didn’t mean they had to be completely obvious about it.

Daisy’s legs were like rubber as she climbed off the older woman and so Cassie had to move quickly as she stood back up or she might well have collapsed to the ground. Standing in the middle of that small clearing and cradling this young woman in her arms, she could do little more than wait for her caddy to catch her second wind.

Thanks to the boundless energy of youth, the wait would be a short one, thankfully.

Once Daisy had her feet back under her and was able to stand up all by herself, she turned a rather dazed but happy smile on the older woman. It made her laugh to see this upper crust woman who normally didn’t have so much as a hair out of place with her face so thoroughly splattered with her juices and Cassie laughed along with her.

“I’m really going to have to work to get you cleaned up before anybody sees you.”

Cassie was sure the young woman would do a good job at making her look presentable, but that was for later. There were other matters they urgently needed to take care of right now. To make sure that point was well understood, she gave her a snug squeeze and pressed a loving kiss to Daisy’s lips.

“It’s my turn.”

Daisy’s smile got even bigger. “I think you’re right. Am I right in assuming that you want the usual?”

“That’s right.”

Pulling free of the other woman’s embrace at long last, the girl hurried away to where they had dropped that little package they had brought along from the golf cart. Giving her lover a wicked little smirk, she opened it up and reached inside, pulling out a long, thick strap-on dildo that was ribbed for her pleasure.

Cassie had certainly seen this sex toy before, but it always gave her a huge thrill when she saw it in the hands of this girl because she knew full well that the girl knew what to do with it.

“You’d better brace yourself, baby, ’cause here I come, ready or not,” Daisy purred, her voice positively smokey as she put on that big tool.

Cassie moaned deeply, her whole body shaking as fingers made clumsy with passion hurried to get off the rest of her clothes.

* * *

Back in the golf cart, still perched in her seat and still tangled up in the girl who was perched on the edge of the seat behind her, Brenda barely knew which way was up anymore.

The whole world had contracted for her so that nothing else seemed to exist but that little electric vehicle and the couple who were aboard it. Anyone at all, including her husband, could have been standing right next to them but it was doubtful that the old woman would have noticed.

Instead, the only thing on her mind right now was how deeply and passionately she was being kissed and how wonderful it felt to have her breasts groped by her precious lover.

She would have been more than happy to stay right there forever.

The girl behind her was not going to be content to leave things as they stood, though. Breaking off the endless kisses again and taking another precautionary look around to make sure all was well, Cindy then turned her attention to the other delights the older woman had in store for her.

To the accompaniment of a frustrated moan of disappointment from the old woman, the teen’s hand abandoned the heaving bosom it had been so enthusiastically working over. Cindy’s hand moved farther and farther down until it reached the top of the other woman’s slacks. As she realized just where the young woman was going, Brenda’s annoyance vanished in an instant and she cried out in ecstatic delight.

Opening the front of the other woman’s jeans, Cindy slid her hand right down inside them and her panties, too.

As she opened her legs wide to surrender her swampy cunt to the girl’s ministrations, Brenda’s own hands were by now griping the body of the golf cart so hard that the young woman would have sworn that she could hear the distinctive sound of bending metal. The girl loved that the older woman was so eager to give herself up to her, loved that she was responding so powerfully to every last thing she did to her.

Cindy ran her thumb over the large, vibrating bump that was the married woman’s clitoris while at the same time driving two fingers over and over again deep into her juicy, burning center. She played her lover’s body like a virtuoso musician, knowing just what needed to be done to deliver the best performance possible, and Brenda promptly lost her mind as a result.

With one arm wrapped snugly around Brenda’s shoulders, cradling her comfortably during the onslaught, Cindy used her fingers to fuck her lover relentlessly through a blistering orgasm. The teen did not stop there though and just kept right on going, determined to give her another.

And perhaps more.

* * *

Stripped of the last vestiges of her clothing to reveal the mature, overweight woman that had been lurking within, Cassie was once more on her knees in front of her teenaged lover.

Standing over her and wearing nothing but a skillfully crafted fake dick supported in a leather harness, the girl had one hand perched on her hip and the other griping the dildo’s thick shaft. The cocky smirk on her lips said that she knew full well just how imposing and beautiful she must have appeared to the society lady beneath her.

With her stylish and expensive clothing all gone, Cassie found herself completely stripped of all of the pretensions of power and superiority that wealth can bring. Looking up at the middle-class young woman standing over her with wide eyes and an open mouth, Cassie did not even try to conceal the outright awe she held her in at times like this.

Reaching out to grab herself a big fistful of Cassie’s hair, Daisy brought the bulbous tip of her fake cock right to the old woman’s lips. Trembling with anticipation and lust, Cassie eagerly open her mouth to admit it.

Daisy pushed her hips forward to insert the head of her long, fat dildo, watching intently as the old woman licked and sucked and worshiped at it as if it were real. Had she been a man, she was sure that Cassie’s ministrations would have swiftly driven her to her knees in ecstacy.

Her eyes rising to meet and hold her caddy’s, her hands stroking and fondling the dildo, Cassie worked the sex toy over with all the skill of a prostitute as she lavished her love on it.

Daisy just held onto the other woman’s head with both hands, meanwhile, waiting until they were both sure that the strap-on was as slippery and slimy as possible with the society dame’s saliva.

Drawing her cock back out of the woman’s mouth then, Daisy gave her a wicked grin.

“Assume the position.”

* * *

Brenda had taken the time to fix her pants so that they wouldn’t drop and trip her up as she awkwardly climbed out of the golf cart, but she was perfectly content to let her top continue to hang wide open. Leaning heavily against the side of the vehicle as her legs were more than a little unsteady after everything that had been done to her today, she turned to move back to her young mistress.

Cindy permitted a smile as she watched the older woman stumble along, but also kept a close eye on her in case she lost her balance and fell.

The girl got her slacks unfastened quickly and pushed them all the way down around her ankles, swiveling her knees wide apart to expose her crotch. Cindy hooked her fingers into her panties and pulled them aside, completely revealing her hot, wet twat to her lover’s very interested eyes. There were not words enough to describe just how much it pleased her to see Brenda’s eyes light up at the sight of her most intimate area.

Leaning against the side of the cart, Brenda reached up to firmly caress one of her young mistresses breasts with one hand while the other ended up on the girl’s knee. As that second hand prowled upward along her inner thigh, inexorably closing in on her aroused and dripping cunt, Brenda was delighted to see a shuddering moan go rippling through the girl.

Brenda wanted to take her time, wanted to tease and tantalize this young lady until she was wailing in ecstacy and begging for release, but she was far too desperate to have this sexy little girl right now to play any games.

Since her back would have made it uncomfortable to try to bend over and eat this girl out, the old woman instead started to press her hand deeper and deeper into Cindy’s liquid depths. The girl let out a loud groan as her lover’s hand slowly but steadily filled up her pussy and now it was she who was griping the cart so tightly that the metal was creaking.

The two women looked nowhere but into each other’s eyes as Brenda slowly but surely drove her entire hand into the younger woman right up to her wrist, her other hand still holding on to a firm tit. It was debatable which of them let out the loudest groan once that hand was finally fully seated in that tight little twat.

Brenda found a moment then to wonder what her husband would think if he ever discovered her in a moment like this, whether her grandchildren would even recognize this woman consumed with animal lust for a girl. She wondered which would upset them more – that she was cheating on her husband, or that the person she was having sex with was a member of a lower class. She thanked God regularly that she hadn’t let affluence turn her into a pompous snob and wondered where she had gone wrong with her kids.

A whimper of desire from Cindy brought her reflections to an end though, returning her to the present. Her young lover needed her full attention and she needed it now.

Brenda went right to work fist-fucking her mistress. She pumped her arm back and forth, twisted her hand this way and that, varied the angle and speed of her thrusts, and otherwise did everything possible to drive this little girl straight out of her mind. They had been very lucky to have had so much time alone to play in this very public place and she was beginning to worry that their luck would not hold out for much longer, so she made up her mind that she was going to bring Cindy off hard and fast.

In this, she was spectacularly successful.

* * *

Cassie couldn’t possibly have been happier than she was at that moment.

While some might say that it was just one more unfortunate stereotype to say that a proctologist should be just as interested in all things anal outside of the office as they were while on the job, a lifetime of being married to one had made her see it as a truism instead. Her husband might not be of much use to her in the bedroom these days, but he had at least succeeded in getting her hooked on butt fucking and she was delighted to have a lover who understood when she needed a fix and could be so enthusiastic about giving it to her.

Bent over somewhat awkwardly with her legs well apart, bracing herself against one of the trees, Cassie was in seventh heaven as that big dildo stretched her sphincter wide open, filling up her tail pipe like her husband could have only dreamed of doing. Her lover was right behind her, holding onto her hips firmly with both hands as she urged that sex toy ever farther into her until it’s full length was sheathed.

“Oh, yeah, girl!” she cried, her eyes tightly closed and a few tears leaking out as she endured this exquisite torment. “Take me! Fuck my fat ass!”

Daisy moved only a little, making the fake cock bump and wiggle inside the other woman in a way that stole the older woman’s breath away for a moment. To this, she added a sharp and well-timed slap across Cassie’s fleshy buttocks, but for the moment she denied her the shafting she so clearly craved.

“Please, baby!” Cassie wailed desperately, perfectly willing to do whatever it took to make this young woman do her. “I need it bad and I need it now! Fuck me now!”

Daisy gave those broad buttocks one more harsh slap and then eagerly went to work. Starting slowly with only the shortest of strokes, she let the speed and force of her thrusts build smoothly until she was slamming it home over and over again in a steady and relentless rhythm. The way Cassie grunted and moaned blissfully was ample evidence of how much she was enjoying this shafting, taking everything the girl could give and pleading for more.

Using every last ounce of will power she possessed and all the tricks she had learned over a long lifetime of fucking, the mature woman held out desperately, wanting to make this experience last just as long as possible. Daisy was always amazed at just how good her lover was at that and it really was quite some time before the old woman finally lost control and was wracked by what must have been a huge orgasm.

Daisy slowed down what she was doing and rode out the climax with her, one hand moving up to claim one of those big, dangling breasts, finally finishing with their bodies molded to each other and the dildo entirely sheathed in the old woman’s ass.

* * *

It was quite some time after they first entered the trees that Cassie and Daisy finally staggering back out of them, much the worse for wear.

Though the couple had cleaned themselves up as best they could and gotten their clothes back on, they still bore little resemblance to the couple who had been playing golf on this course earlier. Still, they were confident that they had done enough repairs that no one back at the club would realize that their disarray had been caused by illicit sex. A quick shower in the club house’s locker room would surely be enough to get rid of the last few traces of evidence.

It must be said that Cassie looked radiantly happy and was positively glowing. Since she was also walking with such an awkward gait and leaning heavily on the putter she was using as a walking stick, it wasn’t surprising that Daisy looked very pleased with herself as she carried her package under one arm.

At the golf cart, they found their friends waiting for them.

Though they too had their clothing back in order, they also looked every bit as disheveled and wiped out as Cassie and Daisy felt and were wearing beatific smiles, so it was clear to them both that Brenda had not missed out on the chance to spend some quality time with the other girl, either. It was totally beyond her how anybody could enjoy a tryst while having to wonder all the time if someone was going to catch them red-handed.

She allowed her lover to help her back into the cart’s driver seat, then waited as the girl quickly and carefully stored away both the putter and the package. The two older women watched with wide smiles as Daisy then remounted the golf cart, settling in next to her fellow caddy.

Chapter 02: Another Surprise

This is a continuation (Ch. 2) of

This story’s a sequel to Copenhagen Couple and Meetings with Mark. It’s not necessary to read those stories first, but some things will make better sense if you do.


At the age of 20 and after my first experiences with male sex I acknowledged to myself that I was bisexual. But I wasn’t going to be open about the fact that I liked to be with men. Sadly, bisexual men are often despised by both gay and straight guys, and even by some women. However in the beginning the main reason for being in the closet was that I was both shy and inexperienced and certainly not ready to go on the prowl openly. Also male sex took more trust than fucking a female, because I wanted to receive as well as give. Thus I had problems figuring out how to meet guys and hook up for sex.

I didn’t want to hit on other students, mainly because college was my best source for fucking girls, so I feared to be labeled as gay. Nor did I at first dare go to the gay bars that I knew existed in Copenhagen. And I was even more wary about pick up spots like public toilets, seedy cinemas, Ørstedsparken, and other areas rumored to be meeting places for homos. But Copenhagen was (and still is) a relaxed city concerning sexual orientation, and there’re also bars where both straight and gay people can go. So I gradually got used to flirting with both girls and guys, but nothing else happened.

Finally I worked up my courage to visit a gay bar/club, telling myself that I would just look and flirt. My vanity was gratified by the number of men who hit on me, as I stood by the bar clutching my beer. I indulged in some dancing and mutual groping, but avoided going any further. Perhaps due to the fact that my first experiences with male sex had been outstanding, I’d gotten rather picky, but in any case I wasn’t really tempted. Maybe because most of the men who approached me, were a lot older, and the young guys I looked at mostly ignored me.

In the end I just stood morosely at the bar, trying to figure out why I was out of luck. Gradually, I became aware that one of the bartenders was having a discussion with an older guy, in between serving customers. I managed to join the conversation which centered on how to find good fitness centers. The guy at the bar certainly looked as if he worked out regularly, even if he was slim and toned rather than bulky. He was tanned, with short, dark-and-grey hair, a handsome profile and a firm mouth. His smile and the expression in his cool grey-blue eyes sent small tinkles up and down my spine.

In spite of him being double my age and my worry about being picked up in a gay bar, I still flirted a tiny bit and expected him to hit on me. But much to my surprise and chagrin he did no such thing, even if he certainly checked me out more than once. On the other hand he stayed next to me and we kept talking, as much as was possible over the noise. Yet when the bar closed, I had to go home alone and make do with a dildo and my very vivid memories of Mark and Michael. While trying to ignore and argue with the inner voice of my insecurity mocking me.

“Maybe he’s not into younger guys, or he’s in a relationship, or he might not even be gay.” My nasty friend told me that he more likely didn’t find me attractive, and I probably wasn’t as irresistible as I thought. Maybe I should have been more explicit in my flirting, but somehow I had the feeling that it wouldn’t have helped, and I’m usually quite good at reading these signals. Oh well, time to stop worrying about it, I told myself, but it was annoyingly difficult to desist thinking about those appraising grey-blue orbs and classical profile.

A couple of days later, I was at the gym where I worked out thrice a week, and as I was setting up one of the machines, someone spoke to me from behind. I turned around and almost gasped as I looked into a familiar pair of coolly amused eyes. My gut clenched and I was rendered speechless as I tried to conceal my surprise and excitement at seeing the handsome man from the bar. He seemed oblivious and just asked for my help in setting up the machine opposite mine, and I did my best. Even if I kept being distracted by his presence and alternately flushing hotly and shivering with a nervous chill when we touched accidentally.

My mouth was completely dry by the time he thanked me for my help. I returned to my own machine and began going through my set of exercises. I tried to avoid looking at him, but I couldn’t help stealing glances. His fit body was well displayed in some expensive but very tasteful gym clothes that hugged his torso, arms and legs in flattering ways. Luckily my own clothes were baggy, because my dick started to get hard whenever I’d ogled him for too long. He ignored me completely, but I still had the feeling that he was perfectly aware of my interest. Finally, my torture was over and I made my way out of the room to get some water from the cooler in the corridor.

As I finished my second cup, I felt a presence behind me and the hairs on my neck rose. “You were quite right, this is a very nice place to train. I think I’ll consider getting a membership.” The words were accompanied by a firm hand travelling from my shoulder down to my ass, which received a quick squeeze on one cheek. I turned my head in shock and his sly grin made it clear that he knew very well who I was and where he’d met me. His voice was like dark velvet against my neck: “So tell me, how’s the café across the street? Is it worth going there for a meal afterwards?”

I managed to mumble “Ehm yeah, I often have a bit to eat there, if I don’t feel like cooking a meal later.” He nodded and went back to the gym after having a drink of water. I’d almost finished my own training, and I decided to skip the rest. There was no way I could concentrate with my dick throbbing against my stomach and demanding that I get this man’s attention. After a cold rinse and then a long hot shower I got dressed and went across the street. I bought some food and a Carlsberg and sat down at a table which was in a convenient corner where I could see the entrance. I tried to read my book, but was distracted every time the café door opened.

Finally, my handsome acquaintance arrived, and I immediately buried my face in the book, trying to pretend that I was completely engrossed. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed how he let his gaze roam casually around the café as he waited in the queue. Seemingly quite by chance he walked in my direction with his tray and when he got close, I looked up. “Do you mind if I sit here?” His voice was calm, relaxed and made the butterflies in my gut go crazy. I just shook my head and he sat down. When he’d finished eating, he leaned back, surveyed our surroundings and (like I had) concluded no one could overhear us.

While he’d been ignoring me, I had tried to act unconcerned and relaxed, finishing the last of my beer and keeping my eyes to myself. But the moment his gaze returned to me and he caught my eyes and smiled, I felt hot, slightly woozy and incapable of hiding my interest. I admired his control of the situation, when he introduced himself and started a conversation with a natural poise and casualness. His name was Erik and he worked in the advertising and modelling business. Within a short time he’d extracted my name, what I did and other general information.

“Have you ever considered making money to supplement your study grant by working as a model, Anders? You’re slim and fit, with almost perfect body proportions. Combined with your classically handsome face, blue eyes and cute blond curls, you’re sure to be a hit.” Before I had time to utter more than a bashful mumble, Erik leaned forward, gave me his killer smile and continued in a lower voice: “But as you’ve probably guessed, I’m also interested in your body for another reason. How do you feel about that, Anders?” At the same time his hand landed on my thigh and rubbed it gently, hidden below the table.

As always in such moments I lost my ability to utter a single word, and I flushed bright red and stared at the beer glass in front of me. After a couple of deep breaths I forced myself to look up at Erik and whisper: “Sounds good, ’cause I feel the same way.” He nodded with a pleased expression and asked whether I was busy that night. When I shook my head, he discreetly placed a card on the table next to my tray.

“Come to this address at 8 o’clock tonight and let’s continue our discussion then.” With those words he got up, took his tray to the proper counter and left, still completely calm and nonchalant as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. I, on the other hand, had to stay put for a while, before I felt collected enough to leave the café. And I was still shaken and slightly frightened from the encounter, and I kept speculating about what I had gotten into. But it never crossed my mind not to go.

I made sure to prepare myself including a long, thorough shower and spending time to select some clothes that was neither too sexy nor too nice and bland. I finally decided to wear tight jeans over very small bikini briefs, and a deep blue shirt with a soft leather waistcoat on top. I took a bus and walked the last part, rather than use my bike, just in case. A few minutes after 8 pm I range the bell on the door phone to Erik’s apartment as indicated by his card. He let me in and I walked up the stairs to his fifth floor apartment at the top of the building.

As I arrived at his door, which was slightly open, I stood outside it for a few seconds, gathering my courage. Then I entered and closed the door behind me, hearing the lock engage. Erik came out of a door further along the corridor and walked towards me with a smile on his face. “Hi there, Anders. Good to see you. What would you like to drink?” He had a glass of red wine in his hand, so I told him that wine would be fine for me too. I took off my coat and shoes and left them by the door, before I followed Erik to his living room. There was low music, and the dimmed lights contributed to a relaxed atmosphere.

I sat down at one end of his couch and when Erik had poured me a glass of wine, he sat down at the other end. While we drank the very nice red wine, he calmly enquired about my experiences with and preferences about male sex. He accepted my declaration of being bisexual without questioning it and seemed pleased that I’d already had male sex several times. He nodded when I told him that I liked sucking cock but not getting cum in my mouth. At his gentle prodding, I admitted that I enjoyed anal sex, both giving and receiving, and with a blush confirmed that I’d prepared for this activity.

His reply confused me: “I very rarely bottom, Anders. But in any case I have the feeling that what you need right now is a good top.” I just looked at him and my lack of understanding must have been evident, because he explained. “In gay sex the bottom is the receiving guy, the one to be fucked. But it can also mean the submissive partner in a relationship. A top is the one who penetrates, the dominant male in charge of providing pleasure if you like.” His smile was full of promise, as he inched closer, and I felt a shiver of anticipation run down my spine.

I was unable to move or speak; he reached out and took the wine glass from my shaking hand and placed it on the table. His fingers ran up my arm and tangled in my blond curls, as he leant closer and whispered in my ear. “I can assure you that I’m a very experienced and attentive top, Anders.” A million butterflies seemed to take off in my gut and I bit my lip to avoid moaning. Erik took hold of my chin and made me look at him, his grey-blue eyes were kind but determined.

“I’m very eager to take you to bed and enjoy that sexy body, so this is your last chance to back out, min dreng.” Oh yeah, I wanted to be his boy, to submit to Erik. I answered the only way I could — by leaning forward to kiss him. Before I knew it, his hand held the back of my neck in a firm grip and the other pulled me into him, as he possessed my lips. I’d never been kissed like that. It felt wonderful to have my mouth ravished. Erik was exactly as brilliant at making out, as I’d hoped.

Small, lusty sounds escaped our mouths, while our lips and tongues chased each other. My hands caressed his neck and shoulders, and the hard muscles under my fingers made me want to get him naked. Erik withdrew after a final deep kiss, stood up and took my hand. He pulled me up and even though he was just a bit taller than me, his personality and attitude made me feel small and submissive. Eric led me into his bedroom across the corridor. As expected there was a king size bed, and on the bed side table he had everything ready: lube, condoms, paper towels and even some wet wipes.

However, my eyes were caught by the large mirrors placed on the wall along one side of the bed as well as on the ceiling above. When Erik saw me staring at them, he smirked: “Do you mind? I can cover them up if you’re shy.” I shook my head, because even if it was a bit kinky, the idea also turned me on. He kissed me with a satisfied expression and then his hands and mouth started exploring my body. While he unbuttoned my shirt and slowly removed it together with the waistcoat, Erik tickled my ear with the tip of his tongue, traced the edge of my jaw, and nibbled on my neck, before returning to kiss me hard.

I shivered with excitement, as his mouth moved downwards to play with my nipples and his hands caressed my shoulders, arms, back, before working their way across my stomach. As he reached my jeans and undid the top button, I moaned with relief and anticipation. My dick longed to be released from its confinement, having been uncomfortably trapped in my tight trousers for too long. Erik made a small contented sound, when he’d removed my jeans, underwear and socks. “Ahh, you’re even more delicious than I hoped.”

His experienced hands with the slender but strong fingers travelled up and down my thighs, fondled my ass, tickled my balls and my erect manhood, until I was ready to scream with need. Finally, Erik pushed me towards his bed and made me lie down on my back. He sat down next to me, and his strong hands gently pushed my legs apart, to expose my most private place. “Such a sweet ass, I wanted it the moment I laid eyes on you, Anders.” I blushed, but there was no denying that his hot gaze made my hole tinkle in anticipation.

However, I also recognized a chance to find out why he hadn’t picked me up at the bar. “Ehm Erik, if you liked me, why didn’t you take me home that night?” As soon as the words left my mouth, I wanted to roll over and hide my embarrassed face in the pillow. Dammit I’d more or less admitted that I would have gone with him just like that. Even if I’d never done gay one night stands before and would have denied being such an easy catch. But Erik just gave me his calm smile.

“I’m very particular with who I take to bed, Anders. I wanted to see if you’d let anyone else pick you up when I refused to take you up on your flirting. I was actually rather amused, but also impressed when you didn’t react to the other men who were eager to get into your pants. I realized that it was partly because you’re shy and inexperienced, but it was still your choice to ignore the possibilities and go home alone.” His fingers played with the blond curls around my dick, as he spoke, and gradually descended to my butt crack. When he tickled my sensitive pucker, I let out a small lustful sound and pulled my legs up a bit more.

His smirk made me cringe, but I still craved his touch and the fact that he obviously desired me was a potent aphrodisiac. “I like that you’re so needy, Anders, but still have enough pride and respect for your own body not to waste it on just anyone. Makes me feel lucky that you are here in my bed, letting me touch you, explore you, taste you.” With that he bent over and ran his tongue up the shaft of my manhood and licked the head. As he peeled my foreskin back with his lips and teased my wet glans with his tongue, the tip of his finger pushed against my asshole, making me gasp.

There was no penetration, just the firm pressure of his finger telling me what was in store for me, and I wanted it so badly. When Erik withdrew and stood up, I had to bite my lip to avoid whimpering with disappointment. As I lay there, exposed and eager in my mirror exhibited nakedness, Erik slowly undressed. His eyes never left my body, and I blushed again with a mixture of delighted gratitude and shyness at his undisguised desire. I kept looking at him too; I was impatient to see him naked and especially the size of his cock.

My worry about whether he’d be too well endowed for my still fairly inexperienced ass, was dispelled, when he finally dropped his sexy black silk boxers. His manhood seemed slightly smaller than mine, even if he was not exactly below average. But I didn’t worry so much about length, as circumference was the main factor. Here he looked similar to me, so I knew I could take him. An added bonus was that his groin was shaved all over, except for a patch of dark hair just above his cock. Together with his toned body and manly face, this made him look very sexy.

Erik got into bed next to me, leant down to kiss me and rolled on top of me, before I had time to do anything. Though he only kissed me gently on my lips, my face and neck while petting my hair, I was very much aware of his hard body pressing against mine, pinning me to the mattress and showing me who was in charge. After a while he moved, so we were both on our sides facing each other, and we spent a long time just touching and kissing. Of course I was impatient to get to the next stage, but he refused to hurry and prevented me from going down on him.

Finally, when I was getting desperate, Erik made me turn around and get on top of him for a sixty-nine. I was in heaven, when he swallowed my aching dick and gave me the opportunity to bury my face in his lap. Kissing and licking his naked balls and the smooth taint before I moved up to his cock was utterly exciting — and for Erik too it seemed. He expressed his appreciation of my enthusiastic sucking of his cock with sounds and words, whenever he took a pause from his skilled manipulation of my manhood. Those breaks happened each time he had me on the brink of coming, and the teasing was driving me crazy.

When I was shaking with the need to cum and tried to fuck his mouth, Erik pushed me away and sat up. He grabbed the lube and I immediately got in position in front of him. As I spread my legs and even reached behind me to pull my buttocks apart, he chuckled. “Eager, are we? Don’t worry, Anders, you’ll get fucked … eventually.” His head was suddenly right next to my butt and I felt his hot breath on my exposed star. My face was buried in a pillow and I whimpered into the soft satin, as I waited for his next move. Would he …?

My question was answered when something warm and wet touched my hole, and I thought I’d faint from excitement. Erik licked and prodded at my tight entrance until it yielded to him, and before long he had me writhing and moaning, not even caring that he’d reduced me to a puddle of wanton goo. I begged him to stroke my dick, and when he refused, I tried to take care of myself. “Oh, no you don’t,” he slapped my hand away, as it left the sheets that I was clutching on either side of my head and headed towards my crotch. “You’ll come when I let you and not one minute before.”

I wanted to object, and my pride told me to get some control back. But before I could do more than take a deep breath and push my hands against the mattress to get up, I felt a slick finger slide into my ass. All other matters were forgotten, as Erik prepared me to be taken. I thought I’d go mad from desire as he spent what seemed like an eternity opening me with first two, then three fingers. He was very gentle and massaged lube into my ring of muscles until I was pliable and completely relaxed. And of course desperate to be fucked as he certainly knew.

Richard’s bathroom was smaller than Alex had expected. As he was pushed through the door the shame he was feeling from their previous session mingled with the draft of cold from the bathroom to inspire fear. What was he doing here? This had already gone too far.

Just turn around, thank him or something, and leave. Take your clothes and leave.

Before he processed the thought properly he heard the click of the bathroom door closing and became aware of Richard stood behind him, and then reaching around him to start playing with his nipples. Gentle pinches felt electric and Alex knew he couldn’t go anywhere. He pushed his ass into Richard’s hardness.

‘That feels good, daddy.’

Richard reached past Alex and flicked the shower on. It was a cubicle, large, but not a 2 person unit. He spun Alex around and spat on his chest, then massaged the saliva gently into each of Alex’s nipples. He worked 2 fingers into Alex’s mouth.

Alex was in heaven. He felt like a slut. He’s already been marked by his daddy, the traces of Richard’s cum still present on his face was a reminder to him that he was nothing but a slave to his daddy’s cock. He wanted to be used. He needed his body to be an object for daddy’s pleasure.

Richard pushed Alex into the shower cubicle, Alex almost tripping and falling against the tiled wall. He became intensely aware of the biting cold of the tiles, and the violent heat of the water. As he cried out from the mix of temperatures, Richard had bent down and started to suck on his cock.

‘Feed daddy’, he growled, ‘feed daddy little bitch.’

Alex had received blowjobs before, but nothing like this. He felt out of control and dizzy, fighting to keep standing as Richard began to probe his ass with a finger.

‘I’m going to fuck this little hole, boy. You’re going to beg me to fill your ass with daddy’s meat.’

Alex could feel his second orgasm of the day building up inside him as the realisation of his submission drifted into his head. He had no choice but to surrender himself now, and was desperate to fill his daddy’s mouth with cum, to give himself to him.

Richard pulled off Alex’s cock as he began to feel Alex on the verge of orgasm, not wanting him to cum yet. He spun Alex round and bent him over, his asshole spread before him. The butt plug from their earlier session was removed.

Alex was positioned so the water from the shower was falling directly on the back of his head, and was lost in a haze of submission and pleasure as Richard spat on his cock and Alex’s hole, and began to push his cock inside.

Alex was aware of the spit on his ass, and was pleased Richard had done that rather than use any kind of lube. Alex had fucked himself with a vibrator before, and used lube, and it felt somehow mechanical and impersonal. This was a statement, another mark on Alex for him to know who he belonged to.

He was surprised that the sensation of being fucked was not painful. Richard’s first movement into Alex’s ass had been slow and deliberate, pushing as far as he could go. Now he fucked powerfully, dominantly, and Alex was lost in the sensation.

‘Fuck me daddy, fuck your whore’

He didn’t know if he was saying it or just thinking it. The hot water bead down on his head, somehow adding to the feeling of submission. The pleasure was mingled with humiliation and degradation. His daddy had spat on him, all over his body, and taken him like a piece of meat. But that’s what he wanted. He wanted daddy to take him and pleasure himself with him, with no regard for Alex’s pleasure.

‘I need your cock inside me daddy.’

Alex needed more than that. He wanted to be filled with Richard’s seed. It was the final act of dominance that he wanted from his daddy. He wanted to know after the experience that no matter how much shame and regret he felt, daddy’s cum would still be in his ass. He wanted to be able to put his fingers in his ass later and taste it, knowing he’d been made a slave to his daddy.

‘Cum in your little whore’s ass daddy. Fill me, please fill me.’

‘You’re going to take my cum in your ass boy. You’ll always be daddy’s little slut boy.’

Alex could feel Richard’s cock tensing. It was the same tension he’d felt with the cock in his mouth earlier, and knew that daddy’s present to him was coming.

Richard grunted, and groaned loudly as the intensity of this orgasm outdid his earlier one. Alex tried to clench his ass around Richard’s cock, desperate to feel all of the orgasm in his ass and milk as much of his daddy’s cum as he could. He felt the warm liquid shooting deep into his ass, and gasped in pleasure.

‘Yes daddy! Thank you daddy, thank you for fucking your slut boy.’

Richard left his cock buried in Alex’s ass for a few seconds longer, wanting to feel the rest of his cum oozing into Alex, before withdrawing and allowing Alex to crawl out of the shower and collapse on the bathroom floor. He pulled Alex over, and took his cock into his mouth once more. Alex lay on the floor, aware of the feeling of cum in his ass and Richard’s mouth sucking on his cock, his tongue licking down the shaft and taking his balls into his mouth.

‘mmm… Suck my cock daddy. Suck your boy’s cock.’

‘Give me your cum boy, I want your whore cum in my mouth.’

Alex had already been close to orgasm from Richard sucking his cock earlier, and felt himself just moments later explode into his daddy’s mouth, shooting hot jets of cum and shaking in pleasure. He lay dazed and sated, and exhausted.

He became aware of Richard’s lips on his own. They parted his, and with a flick of his daddy’s tongue, Alex’s cum came dripping into his own mouth.

‘Thank you daddy,’ Alex muttered, smiling. ‘I hope I’ve been a good little slut for daddy today.’

Meeting Erik and being seduced by him did wonders for my self-confidence as well as keeping me sexually sated. I visited him at regular intervals for the next couple of years, usually once or twice every two-three months. Not that I didn’t want to have male sex more often than that, but he taught me something about building up expectations and the effect of abstinence. Oh I jerked off (a lot) and had sex with girls now and then, but I did nothing about the craving to be fucked. I didn’t even use my dildos, because doing without made me needy and eager, and I knew that Erik loved that. And I loved the fabulous orgasms he gave me.

However, I also saw Erik on occasions when we were not having sex. It turned out that he’d been serious about his offer to get me a job as a model. I’d written his question off as a smooth pick-up line, so I was very surprised when he arranged for me to meet Claude. He was a French photographer living part time in Copenhagen (and part time in Paris), and he was very professional. He was also fifty-something, short, wiry, temperamental and the first really feminine gay man I’d met.

Getting almost naked in front of him, except for the underwear I was modelling, and having him boss me around and arrange my body the way he wanted it, had me blushing like mad for the first half hour. But in spite of the fact that his hands touched me almost everywhere, there was nothing sexual about it. Indeed Claude impressed me very much, because there was no hint of him coming on to me and his behavior made me forget my embarrassment. Soon I was comfortable with being nearly nude in the spot light (literally) and just focused on doing my best with the job.

Other modelling jobs included more clothes and various photographers, and on occasion Erik would be there for those. With time the consequences of this opportunity turned out to be much more important that just making some money while studying. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t suddenly become a successful model. Most of my work was meant for advertising catalogues, and I was just one amongst a host of good looking but rather anonymous guys doing this stuff. I rarely got used by magazines, and I didn’t do shows (you know the catwalk and such). I did do some nude modelling but that’s another story, and those pictures were certainly not for public consumption!

No, the gain was something else, and looking back I now know that it was more to do with Erik than modelling. He used the opportunity to mold me or maybe help me is a better word. When I met him, my main assets were youth, my typical Nordic features (blue eyes, blond hair, nice body), a fair dose of charm, and a certain amount of intelligence. But I’d no idea how to dress well, how to make the most of myself, both physically and mentally, and how to improve my manners and understanding of the world around me. By his example and subtle guiding I learnt how to act as a grown-up, a mature, attractive and attentive man.

I got to keep the clothes that I wore when modelling, unless I really disliked them, or Erik thought they weren’t right. He’d also send me to shops where he knew the owner, and I’m sure I paid lower than normal prices for the things they chose for me. Erik also gave me small gifts like aftershave, body lotion or underwear, but made it seem casual. He might rub lotion on my body after we had a shower and tell me to take the bottle home. Or he’d ask me to wear specific articles of clothing “because I’d like to take those off you later, Anders”.

So it never felt like payment for sex – and in any case I should have been the one to pay him as my tutor. Erik certainly didn’t act like he considered me as a kept lover, either, even if I was his ‘boy’ in bed. Very little in his manner towards me outside the bedroom let on to our private relationship, and he taught me the same restraint. Being in control of your feelings, thinking about your actions beforehand, and not letting secrets slip were useful abilities which Erik valued and helped instill in me. It sure wasn’t from any shame on his part, because he was proud to display me as his companion in the right context.

I found out, when he insisted on taking me to a gay club he liked. I know what you’re probably thinking now, and I’ll admit that your suspicions are not without merit. But Erik took me to a fairly normal gay bar/club, not unlike the place where I met him, just more exclusive. He asked me to come to his place first and stay the night after, and I gladly agreed. It was our third time together, and I’d only done one or two modelling jobs with Claude. So my wardrobe was still pretty standard for a twenty-year-old student with low cash funds, and Erik insisted on providing my outfit for the night.

“I’m the one who wants to go out, Anders, and I’d love to see your tight ass in these when you’re dancing. Especially knowing that I’ll get to fuck it when we come back.” My protests died and I blushed even more than when he’d shown me the skin tight leather pants and skimpy underwear to go with them. The latter wasn’t much more than a firm pouch to hold my intimate parts in place, and the thought of having the narrow elastic straps outlining my bare butt and sitting deep in the cleft was making me cringe. It almost caused me to forget about the top which was just as revealing.

Erik had me stand in front of his mirrors as he undressed me and helped with the outfit. Of course his hands on me turned me on, and he chuckled as my dick engorged and finally escaped the confinement of the pouch, while he’d been busy settling the strap between my butt cheeks. “You’ll never get your new pants on like that, Anders.” His body was suddenly up against my back, and I could feel his hidden cock rubbing my naked ass. Standing exposed in front of the mirror with my dominant lover fully dressed behind me, while he fondled my balls and squeezed my nipples, had me gasping and begging in no time.

“You want me to take care of this, min dreng?” Erik’s hand enclosed the shaft of my throbbing dick, and I cried out and tried to thrust my hips. The deep voice held me in thrall, just as his strong arms trapped me against the manly body. “Naughty boy, you know better than that.” My eyes closed as I tilted my head back on his shoulder and tried not to whimper. Fuck, it was unbelievable the way Erik could make me horny and desperate with a few words and touches. “Open your eyes, Anders.” The firm order had me shivering and I immediately obeyed.

Erik made me observe every moment in the mirror as he played my body, stroked me, teased me, told me how sexy I looked, how much he liked my tight ass. Not that I doubted the last part from the way he was grinding his hard-on into my crevice. When he finally let me decorate the mirror with sticky splotches of cum, I’d once again been reduced to wantonly pleading boytoy. With one of Erik’s fingers buried in my ass and the other hand roaming over the front of my body, he watched me stroke my dick at the end, desperate for the orgasm he’d been denying me for more than ten minutes.

Once it was over, we helped each other clean up, and then I got dressed. Erik stayed hard the whole time and he made sure I was aware of it. I knew better than to ask or take any action to help him out. Two nights in Erik’s arms had taught me that he decided what would happen in relation to sex. I could beg for my own pleasure, but he didn’t appreciate me initiating or pushing things with him. And as I’d discovered that first time, my dominant lover would enforce his wishes with a light slap on appropriate parts of my anatomy, if I was disobedient. Just a playful pat, quickly forgotten in the subsequent delights.

Yep, I was still naïve, feel free to laugh, because even the events later that night didn’t make me connect the dots. Although the initial part of that evening’s education in the world of gay men and sex was quite innocent, if rather confusing and complicated at first. Erik and I took a taxi to the club; he paid our entrance, got me a drink, and led me on tour of the facilities. The bar was separate from the dancing part of the club, but connected by a short but wide corridor to accommodate the constant flow of guys back and forth. The music was loud, but it was still possible to talk in the bar area.

To my surprise Erik took my hand once we’d left our coats at the manned cloak room desk. At first I didn’t dare to remove it, I was still caught up in my role from the recent scene in his bedroom. But then my pride and independence reasserted themselves, and I lagged behind and tugged gently. Erik’s grip tightened, but he stopped immediately and turned to me. I stared into his eyes for a moment, let my gaze drop to our joint hands, and looked back up at the handsome face of my lover. He got the point, but instead of letting go, he pulled me to the wall, so people could pass, and bent to talk quietly in my ear.

“Would you prefer to be an object of desire for half the unattached men in this place? Going into that club unattended, as a new and mostly clueless visitor, looking the way you do, and I can guarantee that you’ll have most males above 35 chasing your cute ass every minute we’re here. Even being my companion – and I can assure you no one will think of us as boyfriends, if that’s what you’re worried about – even with me as your chaperone, I promise you that you’ll get more attention and chances to flirt than you can handle. But it will be harmless and without peril, so you can enjoy it as much as you like.”

Oh. Right. OK, put that way, I’d be better off following Erik meekly into the bar, so that’s what I did. We wandered around after getting our drinks, occasionally stopping to talk to people he knew. If they studied me with interest, he’d introduce me, but otherwise I was free to look around. He usually let my hand go, only to take it again as we moved on. But in a few cases he kept hold of me, and after the second time I noticed that on those occasions he’d introduce me as “one of Claude’s new models”. This invariably sparked a closer scrutiny from the man or men in question, and I wondered why.

Once we’d made the rounds, Erik asked if I wanted to dance. I declined and he found us a table in the bar, where we could talk. During the next hour he educated me in the dynamics of gay men’s interactions, pointing out various people and telling me to watch how they acted. This included the men who dropped by to flirt with me or him, mine almost all older, confident guys and his young or at least fairly diffident. It took me a while, but the comments he made to go with my observations finally clued me in. “So you’re saying that the reason I get hit on by mature guys is because I’m sending out signals like the boys trying get your attention? Bottom vibes?”

Erik nodded. “Yes, but it’s more complicated than that. And you needn’t looked so annoyed, Anders. As I’ve said before, you have the potential to attract both groups. It depends on your attitude and with more experience and a bit of confidence, you’ll project top signals – or even versatile vibes, if you prefer. But right now, dressed like that and in my company, most guys will label you as a bottom and most likely submissive. Try going here on your own and in another type of clothes – and I’ve got a couple of outfits you can try – and you’ll have a very different experience.” He didn’t have to add that it would only happen if I behaved otherwise too, and that I should study the guys I wanted to emulate.

Once I got over my wounded pride, it was actually rather fun. It reminded me a bit of the time I tried to figure out how to catch Kristine at the college dance. Only this time I was studying the predators as well as the prey and trying to work out how to act, depending on the role I wanted to take on. And I had to admit that I enjoyed being free to flirt without worrying about offending anyone by refusing to follow through. Even when I began to accept offers to dance, I felt safe. Erik always appeared next to the dance floor a few minutes after I’d left with a guy and his eyes on my body both reassured me and turned me on.

The one time a man hit on me persistently and refused to back down, finally groping me blatantly on the dance floor, I wrenched away from his grasp and fled to the safety of my lover’s arms. Erik immediately took me back to the bar, and we joined a couple he’d introduced me to earlier in the evening. He slid his arm around my waist and kept me close, while we chatted casually with his friends. When my pursuer walked through the room and spotted us, his face twisted in an annoyed sneer, but he kept going and disappeared into corridor leading to the toilets.

Shortly after that the couple with us got up to dance, and to my surprise Erik pulled me up to follow them. Luckily the music playing was something I really liked, and I gave myself over to the beat, dancing with my eyes closed, secure in the knowledge that my protector’s eyes and hands were on me all the time. As it turned out, it may have been more than just Erik whose fingers teased my wriggling ass or ghosted across the exposed parts of my torso and tickled my leather encased bulge. When I opened my eyes at the end of the song, I was surrounded by all three men, and I immediately blushed when the gay couple in front of me grinned appreciatively.

Erik’s hard body was suddenly up against my back, and the velvet of his voice worked its magic. “Time to go home, Anders. I think you’ve tantalized the wolves enough for one night, boy.” The last word was an almost inaudible whisper in my ear, as he bit my lobe gently. In fact, it may have been just my overwrought libido supplying the epithet, but I still got totally horny and needy in a split second. I barely managed to nod goodbye to Erik’s friends before I was tagging along like an obedient puppy behind his master, eager for the promised treat. But at least my lover was just as much in a hurry.

Maybe that was why I never felt inferior, even when I deferred and submitted to Erik. He clearly appreciated my company, showing it with words, looks and touches. He never humiliated me or mocked me, and even when he dominated me sexually, there was an unspoken regard for my wellbeing, both physically and mentally. My lover made me feel like the hottest guy in town, and I’d no objection to him showing me off in the club and to his friends. Having Erik spend time with me and look proud of being in my company boosted my self-esteem and confidence immensely.

The moment we closed the door to his apartment, he had me pinned to the wall in the corridor. His kisses ravished my mouth, and his hands held my neck and my butt in a firm grip. At some point during the evening I’d asked him whether he normally preferred smaller guys, and Erik had laughed. “No, Anders, I’m quite content that you’re my height, strong and fit. I like that you’re a man and capable of holding your own with other people. It’s much more of a challenge and better fun to subdue you, than if you just rolled over and gave in.” From that answer I’d concluded that he wouldn’t mind if I resisted a bit.

The only problem with this notion was that Erik’s kisses and hands on my body turned my knees to jelly. Funny contrast, ’cause my dick was stone hard and painfully trapped in my tight leather pants. I groaned in relief as my lover deftly unbuttoned and unzipped, then gasped as he spun me around and tugged until my cheeks were exposed. “You drive me mad, Anders. When we were dancing, I just wanted to bend you over and fuck your pretty, provoking ass.” His finger slid down and found my entrance. My whole body went taut, partly in terror that Erik would take me raw right there and then, and partly because I almost wanted him to.

“Go take a shower and make yourself ready, boy. Then come find me in the bedroom, and I want you naked and obedient, do you understand?” I gulped and nodded, relieved, then fled along the corridor and into Erik’s bathroom. I’d prepared myself before I came over, of course, but after spending several hours at the club, dancing and sweating, I needed a quick repeat. Once I was clean and ready inside and out, I walked across the hall to the bedroom. Erik was waiting for me, sitting on the bed in front of the two large mirrors on the wall.

He was still fully dressed, and when I approached, he spread his legs and guided me in between them. My dick was hard and just his look made it twitch with anticipation. Erik caressed me gently, and bent forward to run his tongue over the head. I had to clench my hands into fists to stop myself from grabbing hold of his head and ram my manhood into his mouth. Such an act would definitely not be well received, no sir. After teasing me for little while, my lover sat up straight and undid his pants. “Kneel down,” the order was soft and calm, but still unmistakable. So I knelt and Erik buried a hand in my blond curls and guided my head to his cock.

As soon as the tip prodded my lips, I opened them and accepted his manhood in my mouth. He let me control how deep I wanted to go, and I sucked and hummed with pleasure, as I worshipped the rod that would soon impale me. Or at least I hoped so. I needed to be fucked so badly, and I had the feeling that Erik would give me a long, hard ride tonight. He let me play for a while, then pulled me off his manhood and helped me stand up. A long possessive kiss followed by: “Get in position, Anders,” had me scrambling on to the bed almost shaking with anticipation.

My second encounter with Erik had taught me what that order meant. He wanted me on all fours, exposed and eager, and then he’d give me the most intimate delight of all: an expert rimming. A lesson I’d been most happy and grateful to receive, and the term itself was new knowledge too. When Mark and Michael had licked me, I’d enjoyed it, but I hadn’t really appreciated what an agile tongue could do to me. Erik teased my puckered star with small flicks of a wet tip. He ran lips and tongue up my thighs and nibbled on my butt. Hot breath on my balls and slowly moving up my ass crack had me moaning and begging for more.

All the nerve endings collected in my tight sphincter vibrated with need. Every lick and kiss and prodding of my entrance fired them up and sent bursts of pleasure up my spine and my dick. When my lover finally opened me up with two fingers and lube, I was more than ready to be taken. But to my utter frustration, he didn’t. He slipped a small butt plug into my ass and told me to turn over. Then his mouth worked its magic on my manhood, but whenever I was close to coming, he moved up my body and fed me his cock. The third time he left me on the edge, I voiced my desperation: “Fuck no, please let me come, Erik, please. I’ll do anything, just make me…”

I think that was what Erik was waiting for. He immediately swallowed my whole shaft and his fingers pushed the butt plug in such a way, that it hit the sweet spot inside me. Once again he had me screaming in ecstasy as I came hard, and he drank every spurt of my prolonged ejaculation. The most amazing part was that I stayed erect and when Erik removed the butt plug, I spread my legs wide, hoping to be fucked. But still he tantalized me with fingers and mouth, slowly working me into a second frenzy. I even tried to suggest that I could ride him, if he wanted me to, but that just earned me a swat on my butt. Okay, I guess it was silly to think he would let me be on top.

Finally, I got so desperate that I jumped out of bed and repeated my vow to do anything. I just stood there with my back to the mirrors and my throbbing dick pointing at Erik and begged him to tell me what I could do to make him fuck me until I came. Moments later he was next to me, a soft white silk rope in one hand and a black blindfold in the other. “Anything? Do you really mean that, Anders?” His voice was almost a purr, and when I nodded, he wasted no time tying my hands behind my back and the black cloth over my eyes. I couldn’t see anything as he led me out of his bedroom.

I thank you for your patience. We have kept this story unfinished for quite a while. I hope you enjoy this new installment– which is not the final one, of course.

Pauline took her sweet time giving Teddy everything he wanted. She knew that the next weekend, both Teddy’s big brother Roger and her husband Steve would be out of town for the entire two days. Saturday Pauline would finally take young Teddy’s cock into her cunt and orgasm on it as he came inside her.

Pauline was looking forward all this as she entertained Roger in her bedroom that Wednesday night. As she leaned back on a pile of pillows, Pauline spread her legs and brought her knees up almost to her ears for her nephew. Roger, for his part, was standing just a few inches from the bed, his cock erect and ready.

Even though Pauline was fucking Roger, she was also thinking about Roger’s little brother. Teddy’s cock was big and thick, compared to his. She played her fingertips up and down the length of Roger’s cock, spreading massage lotion all over its length. Since jerking Teddy’s fat prick all over her face that last Saturday, the sheer size of it was occupying her mind. She had decided that this week, the best use of Roger’s smaller, yet still quite beautiful cock would be to simply fit it into a smaller place.

So Pauline was preparing to introduce Roger to the pleasures of her asshole. She added more cream to the hard shaft and took a deep breath.

Pauline canted her ass upwards a bit, and dabbed the tip of his shiny, oiled cock against her tight anal opening. She looked down, past her tits, to watch Roger’s hard prick. His glans was already spreading her asshole open. Glancing towards the bedroom door, she hoped that Teddy was watching and enjoying the show– masturbating as he had so many nights before.

Pauline turned back to the matter at hand. “Oh, darling!” She gently pushed back, encouraging her nephew’s cock into the entrance. “Fuck, that’s good…” she breathed. It hurt, but she liked that. “Yes, mmmm. Push it into Auntie’s asshole—deeper, honey…”

Roger and Pauline were finding their rhythm, fucking more and more forcefully as they got comfy with their positions. Pauline’s clit was all tingly, her cunt shifting and distending from the size of the thing she was accepting up her ass. For his part, Roger had never felt anything so tight and slick around his prick. He’s been sucked off and fucked by his horny Auntie dozens of times in the last few weeks, but she’d never invited him to push his hard cock up her tender little shitter until tonight. He could already feel the semen gathering in his balls, getting ready to pound down the length of his prick and shoot out the end into her ass.

Pauline loved the plowed-open feeling of being anally fucked. She silently resolved to use Roger this way all week, and save her wet, juicy cunt for his little brother Teddy with the oversized horse-cock. Teddy had never fucked any woman’s pussy before, and Pauline wanted his prick to get very tightly gripped and caressed by her cunt that weekend. So she decided to secretly dedicate her pussy to Teddy all week. Nothing else would penetrate her until his cock did– on Saturday.

Meanwhile, Roger, poor dear, was grimacing as he tried to hold back from shooting off too soon. Pauline looked up at his face, his eyes tightly closed in concentration. His hot hard cock was now buried up his Auntie’s shitter to the hilt.

Pauline was moaning and crying out– the pleasure- pain combination of anal penetration was overwhelming her. Hearing her moans and cries, Roger opened his eyes and looked down at his slutty whore Aunt.

Pauline had her ankles up near her ears. Her fat, full tits were pushed together by the position of her arms and thighs. Roger saw that his older lover’s nipples were fully erect, pointing up at him in invitation to be pinched and pulled. He lowered his gaze to his Aunt’s gaping cunt. There was pussy juice dribbling out, across her perineum. As he eased his turgid cock slowly out of her asshole, the juices deposited along the length of his prick, glistening. Now his erection was even more lubricated than it had just been when it was deep inside Auntie’s ass.

Roger raised his eyes to his Pauline’s. Her eyes were filled with tears. She smiled through them. She was in intense pain and orgasmic pleasure both.

“Roger, darling?” She whispered “Pinch me?”

Roger knew what she wanted- what they both did. It was more than pinching. Leaning over her, he took her erect nipples between his fingers and tugged them, twisted them, pulled them upwards. In an ecstasy of pain, Pauline arched her back towards the marauding hands. Suddenly Roger pulled harder and simultaneously plunged his quivering cock back into her body, slamming his balls against her ass.

He might last one more stroke, if he concentrated.

He slowly drew his cock out again, and looked up into his uncle’s wife’s face. “Yes…” Pauline whispered. “Pinch me, dear, and fuck Auntie’s asshole….”. They were both at the edge of orgasm, Her fat titflesh quivered liquidly as Roger pulled her breasts back and forth, using her nipples as handles to control her. Roger squeezed her nipples and bruised them with his hands. His quivering loins performed an excruciating, sensitized, intense push into Auntie Whore’s tender, tight anus.

Suddenly, Roger knew. Auntie Pauline was moaning and crying out, orgasming as he savagely controlled her huge breasts. She was impaled on his cock in her ass. Now his fat, rock-hard cock was erupting inside her, deep up inside. He felt the cum pumping out, greasing her passage and his prick as he pumped her hard and fast, his cum oozing out all around the base of his shooting cock as he lost all control of his body and finally came.

That was Wednesday. Three more days before Roger and Steve left for the weekend. Outside in the hallway. Teddy was indeed watching. His penis was shooting a hot load of cum all over the hardwood floor.

The cleaning girl, Monica, had arrived early on Friday afternoon. “Good afternoon, Ms. Stephens.” Monica said.

“Please, call me Jennifer.”

Opening the door to her two thousand square foot home, the tall, statuesque woman smiled at her cleaning girl. The eldest daughter of a neighbor down the street, Monica had grown into an incredibly sexy young woman. Jennifer shut the door behind her and stared dreamily at the young woman, shaking her head slightly. Only a few months over eighteen and soon going off for college, Monica wore a skin tight pair of worn out jeans and a ragged t-shirt. The pants had a few small holes in them as well, through which Jennifer could glimpse some of the young woman’s delightfully pale flesh.

Following Monica into the kitchen, Jennifer watched in admiration as she bent over to pick something up, a piece of food, or perhaps a small hair. The house was fantastically spotless ever since the young woman had started cleaning three days a week for Jennifer and her husband, Rick. He was frequently out of town on business and Jennifer had taken to admiring the young woman’s body as she cleaned. Jennifer’s heart fluttered as she saw the outline of the girl’s ass. Bent almost double, Monica had a tight body, the kind that made everybody turn their heads, just to make sure they were seeing what they imagined.

Feeling excited, Jennifer briefly touched her own mound beneath her skirt, cupping the warm flesh. While she held her fingers between her legs, Jennifer watched as the girl stood, the tight pants leaving nothing about the shape of Monica’s firm butt to the imagination. Face flushing, Jennifer started to move her hand inside her skirt when the young woman spoke.

“I’m going to start in here today,” Monica said, not looking back. She strutted to the sink and opened up the counter, to drop whatever she had picked up in the trash. Jennifer stared at the young woman’s backside, continuing to push her fingers beneath her skirt. Overwhelmed with the desire to touch herself, she stood in the hallway, watching the young woman start the dishes. Admiring the long, light brown hair cascading down Monica’s back, Jennifer wondered if the young woman would freak out if she tried to seduce her. For her age, the girl seemed remarkably ignorant at times.

In contrast to Monica’s shiny, flowing light brown locks, Jennifer had an auburn shade that curled lightly around her face. A few freckles shone against her rather pale skin, where the younger girl showed some freckles, Monica also had a healthy light tan from being out in the sun that summer. While standing in the hallway, one hand buried under her green, loose skirt, Jennifer decided to try something.

“Monica,” Jennifer said, watching as the younger woman set down a plate to dry on the counter. The sink was spraying water on full blast. “Oh my god,” Jennifer said, just as she started to insert a finger inside the folds of her slick outer labia.

Turning around quickly, Monica had a worried expression on her face. The next plate she picked up sprayed water all over her chest and pants, splashing on the floor a bit as well. Embarrassed, the startled teen looked back at the sink and set the plate down, turning off the water. Beneath her light tan, Jennifer could see the pink staining Monica’s cheeks.

“What’s the matter?” Monica asked, turning around again, surreptitiously wiping herself with the kitchen towel. Her white shirt was clinging to her perky breasts, revealing the teen forgot to wear a bra. Jennifer’s breath quickened as she saw Monica’s tiny, pink nipples pressed against the sheer top.

“How would you like to do me a special favor?” Jennifer asked, not removing her hand from her pants but keeping it there, one finger slowly moving along the length of her mount, bottom to top. “I think I have some clothes that might fit you,” Jennifer continued, sighing as she removed her hand from her skirt, just before the finger reached her clitoris. “How about I help you get changed while I explain?”

The teen’s eyes grew wide when Jennifer removed the hand from her skirt, she could see the moist, wet sheen of something on the older woman’s finger. Swallowing visibly, Monica looked slightly shaken as she realized the older woman had been touching herself, watching.

“Sure,” Monica said, voice cracking. “I don’t have to lift anything heavy, do I?” Monica shrugged, the petite girl’s movements emphasizing her delicate frame.

Jennifer gave a throaty chuckle, shaking her head. The curled locks swept back as Jennifer strode forward to drape an arm around the younger woman’s waist. She was several inches taller than the younger woman, while in fantastic shape, her chest and hips were larger. Next to Jennifer, Monica seemed even more a tense, insecure teen. Grabbing her charge around the waist, Jennifer started to escort the younger girl back towards the hallway, so that they could walk up stairs to the older woman’s bedroom.

“No, you don’t have to do any heavy lifting,” Jennifer commented, giving the younger girl’s waist a squeeze as they walked. “But you will have to strip,” Jennifer said, starting to climb the stairs, letting go of the teen. “So you can change.”

The younger woman frowned nervously as Jennifer ascended the stairs ahead of her. The green skirt swished back and forth in front of her and unless she was imagining it, Jennifer’s nipples were hard underneath the older woman’s lighter green top. Monica knew that some people were attracted to the same sex but in the small town she lived in, any of the girls that might have come out of the closet had kept it to themselves in Monica’s school. Knowing that Jennifer was married confused her, as the older woman was very attractive. Shouldn’t her husband have been satisfying her enough so she did not have to touch herself?

Jennifer disappeared into the bedroom first, heading to her walk in closet. “Just take off all your wet clothes,” she called over her shoulder, not looking back to see if Monica started to strip or not. Puzzling over the woman’s arousal, Monica finally remembered that her employer’s husband was frequently out of town and had been gone for a few weeks. Maybe that’s why she was touching herself, Monica thought, maybe she had been interrupted by Monica’s own arrival?

Taking the t-shirt off was harder than it should have been, as the thin, white fabric clung tightly to her nubile form. Once half naked, Monica felt the room heat up and looked down. Her own nipples had perked up, the small, pink aureolas stiffening and jutting out from her firm breasts. For a moment, Monica’s own fingers strayed over the tips of her nipples, idly caressing them. She pinched one, then giggled, shaking her head. The swollen nipples shrank slightly as Monica felt embarrassment, worried Jennifer might have noticed her casual masturbatory gesture. Swiftly, she started unfastening her slacks, peeling the blue, tattered pants off of her hips and down to her ankles.

Bent over, Monica had not seen Jennifer depart the closet and walk quietly around her, admiring the younger woman’s nearly naked body. Jennifer noticed Monica’s tight white cotton panties. They clung to the younger woman’s ass so tightly, Jennifer thought she could see where her pink pussy started and ended. Amazed, Jennifer noticed that the young woman had either shaved or waxed completely, her pussy bald underneath the thin white fabric. Hands full of some clothing, Jennifer set her bundle down on the bed as Monica straightened, kicking the slacks to the side. Jennifer could feel her own cunt start to get warm again, after her brief self exploration downstairs, she was ten times as excited now that the younger woman was nearly naked in her room.

As Monica stood straight, she turned around, face flushing completely. “Jennifer,” Monica stammered as she hid her breasts with one hand, putting her right hand over the nearly transparent cloth covering her pussy, “I didn’t hear you come out.”

Jennifer reached out gently and pried Monica’s hand off of her breasts, shaking her head slightly. “Monica,” the older woman said, “I have breasts too. This is not the first time I have seen another woman’s.” Monica felt less embarrassed and allowed her to pull her hand to her side, revealing her chest. “Take a look at these,” Jennifer said, turning to the pile of clothes on her bed. “You’re a lot more petite than I am but I have a few things which might fit. At least for the day.”

Nodding, Monica tried took a deep breath and stopped covering her pubic mound to pick at the clothes on the bed. Jennifer’s face had flushed slightly at the mention of seeing another woman’s breasts and Monica did not know what that meant. She herself had admired many girls in high school in the gym showers or after cross country practice. On the team, most of the girls had even smaller breasts than Monica, which had made her proud of her petite, b-cup boobs.

As Monica turned to the clothing pile on the bed, Jennifer bit her lip, wondering how she could manipulate the younger woman into doing her bidding. Between her legs, Jennifer felt like she was on fire, desperate to finish what she started in the hallway. While watching the young woman pick through a few skimpy outfits, she could not decide if she wanted to try touching her now or wait until she realized what she had hidden amongst the clothes on the bed. Jennifer stood next to the younger woman and stared out the window briefly, considering. I might never get a better opportunity, Jennifer realized. Now or never.

“Monica,” Jennifer said, still staring out the window, “I was playing with myself in the hallway, while you were doing the dishes. I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay,” Monica said, “Your husband has been away for a while. I would be frustrated, too.” She was holding a tight black top against her chest, to see if it would fit. The material was almost spandex and would stretch.

Jennifer felt her heart skip a beat as Monica said she understood. “Do you ever get frustrated, Monica?”

“Sure,” Monica said absently, tossing the black spandex top on the bed. “But I don’t have a boyfriend, so, I’m out of luck.” The teen picked up a pair of workout pants, also in black and then tossed those to the side. “I tried to touch myself, once,” Monica muttered, grabbing the next item off the bed. “However, it did not feel nearly as good as my friends said when they tried it. I was so frustrated that night, I vowed I would get a boyfriend.”

“Did you?” Jennifer was intrigued, she had never discussed the younger woman’s love life, or sex life, before.

Monica’s shoulders slumped while she looked at a blue top. “No,” she sighed, “I mean, I like plenty of the boys, but, I think I was meant to find the one at college.” The blue top she pressed to her chest and she turned to Jennifer. “Does this look okay?”

Turning back to face the younger girl, Jennifer nodded, “That will fit fine, I think. I wear it to bed sometimes.”

“You can fit into this?” Monica gasped, surprised. Her cheeks flushed as her brown eyes stared into Jennifer’s green ones, “Sorry, I mean, you’re not fat or anything.” Crimson flooded her cheeks when she finished, eyes wide. “Oh my god! I can’t say anything right!”

Chuckling throatily, Jennifer shook her head, smiling. “I know what you mean,” Jennifer said, “Here, let me show you.” Without another word, the older woman stripped out of her top, showing her full, firm breasts and delicate pink nipples. They were only slightly hidden beneath a cream colored, lacy bra. “They are bigger than yours,” Jennifer said, holding her hands under her bra covered nipples, pushing them out less than a foot away from the younger woman’s chin. A half step back and Jennifer stood straight, running her hands down her stomach. “However, I’m not fat, and I don’t take offense to the comment. You haven’t seen me workout before, have you?”

Monica’s blush crept away slowly as she caught herself looking, for too long, at Jennifer’s large breasts. They had a few freckles but Monica could not remember seeing a more perfect pair of tits. They were big, round and would fill even more than her hand, maybe even two hands. “I’ve always wanted bigger boobs,” Monica whispered, face heating up again as she saw just how flat Jennifer’s stomach was. “What kind of exercise do you do? You look amazing.”

“I’ve been into yoga for over a decade,” Jennifer said, putting her hands on her hips and cocking one to the side as the younger woman appraised her physique. “Thank you for the compliment. You must work out, too. Most girls your age aren’t nearly as trim. What’s your secret?”

Monica seemed to have forgotten she was clad only in her white cotton panties, watching her boss, almost half naked. “I do cross country,” she said, standing straight. “I finished first in state this year.” A note of pride entered her voice as she stood straighter, her perky breasts standing tall. “I’m the fastest girl on the team.”

Jennifer watched the young woman stand there, tits jutting out and full of her accomplishments and knew that one way or another, she would have her. Tearing her eyes away from Monica’s delicious frame, Jennifer looked at the bed and smiled, noticing the very end of her surprise was peaking out of one of the other pairs of pants. An idea crossed her mind and she reached behind herself, fingers searching for the clasp of her bra. Monica stood tall, shoulders back, lithe frame covered only by the slowly drying white cotton panties, watching as her boss slipped the cream colored bra off. Massive breasts exposed, Monica stared at Jennifer’s chest, almost forgetting to breath.

“What do you think?” Jennifer asked, cupping her full breasts. “My tits are completely natural,” Jennifer proclaimed, lifting them lightly. Leaning her head down, the nipples were so close to her mouth, Jennifer was tempted to lick one, just to see what the girl would do.

“Wow,” Monica breathed, staring at Jennifer, full breasts occupying her full attention. “I have never seen such perfect breasts.” Crimson again flushed Monica’s cheeks and Jennifer noticed the teen’s nipples perk up, stiffening once more. “I expected your aureola’s to be larger,” Monica commented, unable to help saying more. “They look the same size as mine. But your tits are so much bigger!”

Jennifer chuckled, running a finger around the areola of one firm, voluptuous breast. The pink nipple stiffened instantly as Jennifer continued to idly circle the nipple, enjoying the sensation, especially the audience. She pretended to have forgotten Monica was watching and tugged at the nipple, having teased herself more than enough.

“Do your nipples feel good when they get touched?” Jennifer asked, rolling the pink, swollen nipple between her thumb and forefinger.

Monica swallowed, feeling hot and suddenly remembering her near nakedness. The question bothered her less than her nudity and since Jennifer seemed genuinely curious, Monica looked back at the bed to hide the flush heating her cheeks. “Yes,” Monica replied, pulling a pair of pants out of the pile. “However, I’ve only done it a few times. I can’t seem to orgasm by myself,” Monica whispered, throwing the pants down and picking up another pair, even smaller.

Looking back at Jennifer, Monica’s eyes grew troubled, shining with wetness. “I’m still a virgin.”

Jennifer stopped touching her breasts and let her hands fall, staring at the slender little nymph. That makes sense, she thought, in so many ways. Aloud, she said, “That’s completely okay. I was over twenty when I first had sex. There is no need to rush.”

Monica nodded, smiling and feeling overwhelming gratitude. If they weren’t naked, she would have given Jennifer a hug right then. Jennifer walked over and pulled the object she hid out of the pile, showing it to Monica wordlessly. “Here,” Jennifer said, handing Monica a slim, glass dildo. The phallus was about six inches long and ribbed in concentric circles. Staring, Monica had heard about dildos, but never seen one in person.

“What is that for?” Monica asked, but she suspected. Her thighs grew heated as she imagined using the thing to please herself, finally achieving her first orgasm. “Wouldn’t it hurt?” Jennifer shook her head, cupping both of Monica’s hands around the device.

“No, it would not hurt. It feels very good, in fact.” Jennifer reached out, gently, to caress Monica’s cheek as she stepped even closer, intentionally invading the teen’s personal space. “I can help you learn how to use it,” Jennifer whispered, one hand reaching out to brush a stray lock of light brown hair away from the teen’s cute face. “Shall I show you something?” Monica nodded, looking up into Jennifer’s eyes, curious what the older woman would do.

“Lay down,” Jennifer asked gently, “Let me help you.” Monica nodded, still curious, and got on the bed to lay down. She put her head on a pillow, laying on top of the comforter, and kept her legs pressed tightly together. After a moment, Monica seemed to relax, the tension draining from her stomach and legs as she allowed them to spread apart slightly, no longer clenching the muscles to press them together. Jennifer could not believe the teen was willing to lay there, awaiting her pleasure, with no idea what the older woman had in mind. Smiling encouragingly, Jennifer decided to keep her skirt on for the moment, desperate to keep Monica under whatever trance she was in.

Monica watched as Jennifer climbed up on the foot of the huge bed, kneeling down next to her. The strange glass dildo was in Jennifer’s right hand, her left caressed the outside of the younger woman’s hips. Having been unsuccessful more than a dozen times in trying to make herself orgasm, Monica found the idea of a teacher somewhat gratifying. Watching the full figured Jennifer caress her thigh relaxed her and seeing the full, pink nippled tits of her boss naked in front of her made the young teen feel like this was all a dream. Ms. Stephens is really nice, Monica thought, I can’t believe she is going to help me to orgasm. Her pink, delicious looking cunt showed in detail through the wet cotton panties, with her legs parted slightly now, Jennifer could hardly wait to taste.

With her free hand, Jennifer started to caress the young teen’s inner thighs, which made Monica jump on the bed. Ms. Stephens flashed her most beguiling smile and Monica relaxed again, the butterflies in her stomach fading away. The short nails of Jennifer’s fingers raised goose pimple’s on the teens thighs and her pubic mound was getting heated. The thin cotton panties were wetter now than they had been as she climbed the stairs. Inhaling deeply, Jennifer could smell the sweet, musky odor of the young woman’s desire. Her hands spread the younger woman’s legs wider still, until she was spread eagled on the bed, her head resting on the pillows, pink nipples straining, fully erect. Jennifer had never seen a more delicious, sexy sight in her life.

“What are you going to do?” Monica whispered, her eyes shining, as she lifted her knees slightly with her legs spread. “I’m a virgin,” Monica continued, brown eyes pleading, “Can you help teach me without…” trailing off, Monica stopped talking, not wanting to ask about keeping her hymen intact directly.

“It’s okay,” Jennifer said, shifting position to kneel between the younger woman’s legs. The green, frilly skirt was the only thing that separated Jennifer from full nudity, her g-string had been discarded while she hunted around in the closet. “First, let me show you what I usually do.” Green eyes bright, Jennifer lifted the skirt and pulled it off of her head while kneeling. The statuesque older woman had a trim, muscular physique, without any excess fat. Her curves were still full, with the kind of body that would turn anybody’s head. Monica felt herself grow hotter still, staring at the older woman kneeling between her legs.

“Start with your nipples,” Jennifer said, moving her hands to her breasts and gently plucking them with both of her hands. The dildo lay on the bed now, just in her reach. Later, Jennifer thought, I will take her virginity my way. “Go on, do what I do,” Jennifer continued, as Monica simply stared at her play with her own breasts. The teen started to caress her chest in mirror image of Jennifer’s casual stroking and started squirming in a moment, her thighs burning for attention.

“Oh, god, Jennifer, this feels so much better than when I did it at home.” Monica moaned, her back arching, the pink nipples being stretched by her hands. “Why am I so much more excited now?”

“Your body is just reacting to mine,” Jennifer said, smiling, continuing to pull and caress on her own pink nippled, firm tits. “Enjoy this for a moment longer,” Jennifer moaned, her own pubic mound in desperate need of attention. She could feel her pussy starting to drip a bit of her own pre-cum, in sexy anticipation of more satisfying touching to come.

Moaning, Monica dropped back to the bed, staring at Jennifer’s chest once more, still pulling and pinching her nipples with two hands. The pink beads flexed and bent under her fingers as she started to look down to see Jennifer’s bare pussy. Even though a few girls on her cross country team had shaved theirs, it was the first time Jennifer had seen another pussy up close, or in such a state of arousal.

“Tell me what to do next,” Monica moaned, watching a dribble of wetness seep out of Jennifer’s outer labia. The sight was driving her mad and Monica’s inhibitions about what to try and what to do were rapidly fading away. “Please, I wanna feel good.”

Watching the sexy teen was driving Jennifer mad and when the young girl asked her to do more, she happily complied. Her right hand drew a lazy line down the flat, rock hard abs of her stomach to circle her pubic mound. “See my pussy? I get it waxed,” Jennifer said, “My skin feels so much better without hair.” Monica nodded, staring at the tips of Jennifer’s hand, hardly breathing, only pinching her nipples. “When you touch yourself, start at the sides,” Jennifer said, caressing her inner thigh from the middle up, to her center. “Tease yourself,” Jennifer squeaked, her voice going up an octave as she finally touched her outer labia, at the base of her pussy. “If you are wet, then insert a finger, just a bit.” Her index finger penetrated the outer folds of her hot slit and she withdrew it, showing Monica the wet tip. Shuddering, Monica nodded, eyes fixated on Jennifer’s finger.

“If you aren’t wet enough, you can lick your fingers, first.” Jennifer said, starting into the teen’s eyes as she brought her finger to her mouth and licked it clean, sticking her tongue out to circle the fingertip, as if she was sucking on her husband’s cock.

Ignoring the last sentence, Monica looked worried, “But I’ve never had anything inside my pussy. Won’t that, you know, break my cherry?” Monica had stopped touching her breasts and her hands lay limp on her chest as she worried.

“No, no, your cherry is further inside,” Jennifer soothed, “And besides, you can just lick your finger, as I did, to get it wet.” Nodding, Monica relaxed, as Jennifer started to touch herself once more. “The top of your pussy is your clit, you know that, right?” Nodding again, Monica grew more excited as she watched the older woman start to finger fuck herself in front of her. The older woman moved her fingers in a circular pattern on her pussy, moving her clit round and round. “Oh, yes,” Jennifer moaned, “If you are already excited, this should be enough.” Her voice grew rough as she started to buck her hips, moving them in tandem with her frantic fingering.

“Would you like to see me cum?” Jennifer moaned, fingers flying, her left hand pulling at her huge breast.

Nodding, Monica watched as the older woman continued to finger fuck herself. She had never watched a porn movie before and the few times she had seen a copy of a magazine or a friend surfing the web, nothing of the sort had appealed to her. Watching the older woman frantically masturbate her gorgeous, pink pussy in front of her, however, was almost heaven. She could smell the wonderful scent of Jennifer’s musky, sweet pussy in the air and after a minute, she felt as if Jennifer was finger fucking her own clit, running those hands around her tight, slender thighs. The heat kept building in her pussy as she watched Jennifer’s face flush and the movements grow more frantic still.

“Yes, yes, yes,” Jennifer moaned, arching her back as she cried out. The rush of her orgasm took her breath for a moment as her pussy convulsed, her fingers stilling for a moment. Her green eyes grew wide as she stared Monica full in the face, loving every second of her powerful orgasm. She had fantasized about women for decades but this was her first ever experience doing anything with one. Jennifer was in heaven as her orgasm faded and she could feel her juices running over her fingers, down between her thighs. The teen’s brown eyes were wide, her breathing frantic as she played with her nipples.

“What do you think, Monica?” Jennifer asked, her face flushed as her fingers continued to slowly massage her outer labia, still careful not to penetrate her own throbbing slit. “Would you like to try it, just like I did?”

In response, Monica spread her legs wide, the lithe teen nearly doing a full split as she held a thigh with her left hand and slid her right underneath her thin, white panties. Even though she had been extremely shy to do anything in front of the hot, older woman, watching her apparently cum all over her fingers had persuaded her to do anything the older woman suggested. Her slender, long fingered hand was visible underneath the panties as Jennifer watched the young woman first dip a finger into the base of her pussy, and then slid it upwards. The motion was identical to Jennifer’s demonstration and she licked her lips as she watched Monica first touch her sensitive clit.

Her pubic mound on fire, Monica started to finger fuck her clit fast as she could, positioning her index and middle fingers just to the sides of the delicate nub. Jennifer could see it pressed against the thin cotton, the teen’s juices having soaked through the material. Eyes half closed, the teen arched her back as she twirled her fingers around her clit, pressing the delicate flesh against her panties. Panting, chest heaving, the teen carried on masturbating in front of Jennifer as the older woman watched, her own pussy still oozing cum. A few minutes passed as Monica writhed on the bed, fingers working her clit furiously, before the desperate teen gave a shrill cry and bucked her hips, crying out.

“Ooooh,” Monica cried, her fingers ceasing their frantic motion as she clamped her legs together, arching her back and landing a bit sideways. Her whole body convulsed in a series of spasms as she experienced her first orgasm. Monica felt as if her world had exploded in pleasure as her orgasm ripped forth. Quivering, she lay on her side, gasping for breath, as she clenched and unclenched her thighs together rhythmically. Monica slowly came back to reality as her head cleared, the waves of pleasure slowly receding from her mind. Panties soaked, she felt herself wetter than ever between her legs. Slightly embarrassed, the teen removed her hand and pushed herself off of the bed, afraid to meet her boss’s eyes.

“Thank you,” Monica mumbled, making as if to rise off the bed. “I have to go now,” Monica said, leaning over as if she would swing her feet down.

Jennifer had been lost in her own near orgasm, slowly fingering her own pussy, delirious after seeing the nubile little woman experience her first climax. “Wait,” Jennifer said, removing her hand with a regretful sigh. “I have one other thing I can show you,” Jennifer said, “Some women hate it.” Frowning, Jennifer shrugged, then smiled wickedly, “For others, like me, it’s one of the best, most satisfying orgasms I’ve ever had. This is a very special trick.”

Monica, cheeks flushed, was surprised by this and had assumed that Jennifer would be done at that point. After all, the older woman was just trying to be nice, Monica still thought. The teen was still innocently thinking the older woman was only being nice, and not attracted to her, sexually. Curious and still unsteady from her massive, mind bending climax, Monica nodded her head, looking up at Jennifer with one delicate eyebrow quirked.

“You aren’t going to put anything inside me, are you?” Monica asked, nervous, glancing at the ribbed phallus next to Jennifer’s naked thigh.

“Well,…” Jennifer paused and Monica frowned, her per nipples softening as she moved to stand up again. “Nothing that would tear your hymen, I promise.” Jennifer said in a rush, her own cheeks flushing. Suddenly more nervous than ever, the older woman paused, reaching a slick fingered hand out to touch the younger woman’s cheek. “All I want to do is help to teach you how to feel good,” Jennifer whispered, gently. “Is that ok?”

The younger woman sat back down on the bed and swung her feet around, resuming her laying position. “Now you have me curious,” Monica said, her nipples starting to swell once more. “How can anything be better than what I just felt? I was in heaven!” Jennifer chuckled at the younger woman’s enthusiasm, feeling her own excitement rising once more. All the younger woman’s talk about not putting anything inside her pussy had given Jennifer ideas that she had never entertained before. Since Monica appeared to be pliable, Jennifer was of a mind to see what sort of kinky things she could do with her.

“First, you have to let me take these off,” Jennifer said, running her hands up the teen’s thighs and pulling on her panties. “Is that okay?” Monica nodded, lifting herself off of the bed, allowing Jennifer to slid the panties down to her ankles. Tossing them aside, Jennifer admired the pink, glistening pussy for the first time. Her mouth started to salivate as she contemplated licking Monica right then. Mouth dry, Jennifer wanted nothing more than to taste Monica’s pussy, to feel the petite woman’s thighs wrapped around her head.

Without another word, Jennifer swiftly bent forward and put her mouth over the young woman’s pubic mound, her long tongue flicking out to caress her moist box. Monica was at first outraged the woman had simply started to suck her, however after a moment, her mind reeling, she buried her hand’s in Jennifer’s hair. “Suck me,” Monica cried, pushing her pussy into Jennifer’s waiting, licking tongue, “Lick me, oh, yes.”

Jennifer could not believe the taste as her tongue danced up and down the sexy teen’s labia, her saliva mixing with the girl’s juices to flood her crack. Gulping, Jennifer sucked the juices down greedily before rising, forcing herself to stop assaulting the delicious box. “Get on all fours,” Jennifer said, kneeling once more towards the base of the bed. “I’m going to make you feel incredible.” Monica nodded, her face flushed, eyes wide. Her long brown hair draped over one shoulder, she got on all fours, as if she was going to be penetrated doggy style.

“What are you going to do now?” Monica asked, her voice cracking. “Your tongue was just perfect, Jennifer. I want you to lick me like that again.” Monica’s demands surprised Jennifer, as the younger woman was clearly enjoying herself. “Would you make me cum again, please?”

Nodding, Jennifer smiled, grabbing the dildo off the bed. “I’m not going to put this in your pussy,” Jennifer said, making Monica relax and become confused, simultaneously. If the dildo isn’t going into my pussy, Monica thought, then what does she have in mind? Mind wondering, Monica stopped paying close attention until she felt Jennifer slide under her parted, lean thighs, to start eating her once more.

As she lay down, Jennifer started to eat Monica’s pussy once more, her hand still gripping the glass dildo. She started to slowly stuff the ribbed phallus into her own aching pussy first, slicking the hard rod with her still flowing juices. As she continued to lick and suck Monica’s clit, the young woman started to buck her hips, still on all fours, desperate to cum once more. In moments, Jennifer withdrew the dildo from her pussy with a touch of regret, positioning it just above the wrinkled, light brown sphincter of Monica’s rear entrance. The glass tip slid down the brunette’s crack until sliding a hair inside her anal cavity, causing the teen to buck her hips and jump slightly.

“Jennifer, what was that?” Monica shrieked, clenching her ass tight, moving her sphincter away from Jennifer’s mouth and the slick glass prick.

“Just relax,” Jennifer said, “Trust me. Let me lick you, and you’ll cum like never before.” Monica slowly relaxed, her thighs opening wide again as she positioned her pussy directly over Jennifer’s face. Nearly giggling with delight, the older woman wrapped her lips around Monica’s clit and started sucking, bringing the slick folds into her mouth. Once more, she placed the glass dildo at the puckered entrance to the luscious teen’s rear entrance, holding the round tip steady. The teen moaned softly as Jennifer brought her clit inside her mouth, with her most sensitive spot being so thoroughly sucked, Monica felt herself drowning in pleasure, as if her whole world had compressed to a single point of awareness, beating like a heartbeat inside her core.

Loving the taste of the teen’s delicious pussy, Jennifer used her left hand to touch herself once more, almost forgetting the dildo she held in her right. Monica’s hips started moving in a slow figure eight, her grinding causing the dildo to slid all along her crack, Jennifer’s grip unable to hold it steady. The older woman almost dropped the dildo, lost in her own ecstasy, before remembering her design on Monica’s tight, virgin backdoor. She gripped the ribbed phallus tighter and moved the tip to Monica’s puckered sphincter, this time, sliding the tip inside nearly an inch. The teen moaned softly, her movements halted, as she felt the dildo penetrate her most private opening.

Arching her back, Monica shuddered, her pussy convulsing against Jennifer’s face as the buxom woman kept sucking on her tender clit. She could feel the glass dildo slowly slide into her rectum, the first ridge pushing her sphincter wide. Groaning, she forced herself to relax even as her pussy clenched, on the verge of a massive orgasm. Her mind was in the clouds as Jennifer slowly pushed the dildo further inside, past the first two ridged nubs. As each one passed through her sphincter, she could feel her anal ring stretching almost painfully. After the larger ring pushed into her bowels, the slim portion of the phallus felt even more pleasurable, deliriously so.

As high as the teen felt from the constant sucking and licking of her clit, the dildo sent her into a new, surreal realm. Filled like never before, Monica could no longer hold back her orgasm, feeling the dildo slid half way inside her ass. Gasping for breath, the teen lay forward, head on the bed, spreading her ass cheeks as wide as they would go. For the first time in her life, Monica was being penetrated and the feeling combined with the older woman’s lips on her clit drowned her in electrifying, deep pleasure as her insides melted.

“Oh, yes, Jennifer, more,” Monica gasped, wanting to feel every inch of the fake cock. Her backside was on fire, a different, more fulfilling sensation than she expected. As the dildo penetrated further, her cunt started to squirt cum onto Jennifer’s waiting face, the dildo finally hilted inside her ass. The orgasm coursing through her body was like nothing she had ever experienced, the rippling pleasure emanating from her tight ass, from her convulsing pussy, sent tingling sensations all the way through her toes.

Jennifer let go of the toy, the ridges keeping the phallus fully hilted, to concentrate on her own aching pussy. Face, hair and comforter soaking wet, Jennifer licked and sucked as much of Monica’s orgasm as she could, loving the sight of the gorgeous little nymph with her ass sticking out, the phallus buried deep. In moments, her own orgasm built and exploded, her fingers working inside her wet cunt while twirling madly around her clit. Still unsatisfied, the buxom Jennifer sighed after her orgasm faded away, wanting the little nymph to fuck her with the dildo next.

However, as Jennifer rose off the bed and looked at Monica’s prone form, the dildo still buried in her ass, body twitching slightly, she could tell the younger woman was finished for that morning. She slowly removed the phallus and then, watching Monica’s face, slowly deep throated the toy. The younger woman could not believe her eyes, watching the sexy, big breasted woman suck a dildo that, moments before, had been buried in her ass. It was the dirtiest thing she had ever seen and the sight was enough to re-ignite her desires. Monica wanted to do more, the session with Jennifer having opened her eyes to pleasures she had never dreamed of.

“Jennifer,” Monica said, rolling over to sit on the bed, crossing her legs. “That was amazing.” Face flushed, her pink nipples still erect, Monica licked her lips, “What else can we do?”

Surprised, the older woman set the dildo down, “Now, you can get back to work.” Monica’s shocked expression made her laugh, “However, tomorrow, I can teach you something else. Would you like that?” Monica nodded, causing Jennifer to almost change her mind right then and there. Tomorrow, Jennifer thought, I’m going to teach you how to eat my pussy. The buxom, auburn haired woman’s pussy heated up at the thought. “Let’s get dressed.”

The housekeeper finished getting dressed reluctantly, still wanting more but unable to give voice to her desires. Her long brown hair was matted to the sides of her head, face flushed from the massive orgasm. “Jennifer,” she finally said, dressed once more, “Is there anything…special…you’d like me to do?” The housekeeper stepped closer to the older woman, who’d also dressed once more.

“Actually, there is,” Jennifer said, grinning down at the smaller, younger woman. “Clean,” she said, patting her on the cheek. “Tomorrow, if you do a good job today, maybe I can teach you a few more things.” She bent down and whispered into the maid’s ear, “Would you like that?”

Shuddering, the housekeeper nodded, irritated that she had to go back to work but excited about learning more from the older, more experienced woman. She spent the rest of the afternoon cleaning, hoping each time she glanced over her shoulder that the busty Jennifer would be watching her. However, for the rest of the day, she was ignored. By the time she finished the last of her duties, she was certain that Jennifer was gone. However, as she reached the door, the older woman came downstairs and gave her a big smile.

“Monica,” Jennifer said, “Please be here early tomorrow morning.” She smiled wide. “I have a lot I want to teach you.” She stepped closer and looked down at the younger woman, smiling, her auburn hair framing her face in a pretty way. Monica could feel her nipples grow firm, looking up at her boss. Without another word, the older woman leaned into her, kissing her softly on the lips, then slid her tongue into her mouth. Reaching out, Monica grabbed her waist to steady herself, lost in the sensation as Jennifer kissed her thoroughly.

No sooner was it started than it ended, and Jennifer stepped back, still smiling, her pink lips shining from their saliva. Biting her lip, Jennifer shook her head slightly, eyes heavy lidded. “Until tomorrow,” she said, walking over to the front door and opening it. Reluctantly, Monica walked over to the door and left, wanting to say something, to stay, but knowing that the older woman had promised more tomorrow. Satisfied, she walked home, excited about learning more from the older woman the next day.

Jennifer spent the night dreaming of kinky and dirty things she could do with the hot maid who seemed just as eager to get into bed as she was. One thought kept bothering her all night long until she finally went shopping to get a special surprise for the brown haired, tight bodied young woman. The next morning, Jennifer was tempted to wear nothing to open the door, but she instead put on a black silk robe. Her matching g-string on underneath felt sexy against her skin and the lacy, half cub bra showcased her tits to maximum advantage.

Before she went downstairs, she decided to add a garter belt and black stockings, her favorite lingerie. Feeling sexy, she admired herself in the mirror, the light dusting of freckles on her face, cheeks flushed. Just thinking about the maid’s arrival had her practically dripping. She went to the kitchen to pour herself a glass of water when the doorbell rang. Without hesitating, she set the glass down and tried not to walk too fast to the door.

“Come in,” Jennifer said, opening the door and stepping out of the way.

The younger woman walked in, swishing her hips slightly, showing off her tight form clad in yoga pants and a t-shirt. She had been awake since six, having trouble sleeping. The brown haired woman had debated what to wear for at least an hour that morning before settling on the yoga pants and t-shirt. After she entered the busty, older woman’s house, her nipples grew stiff against her pink shirt. Curious what the older woman had in mind, she had skipped on bra and panties. Turning around, she saw Jennifer shut the door and lean against the frame for a moment, arching her back. Staring at Jennifer’s lingerie clad bottom, her black garter belt and stockings, Monica could barely breath. After the excitement the day before, she wanted to explore, to experience everything with the older woman. Feasting her eyes on Jennifer’s silk clad body, Monica became painfully aware of how stiff her nipples had grown. She reached up to caress them over her t-shirt just as Jennifer turned around.

“So you like my lingerie?” Jennifer walked over to the younger woman, swishing her hips, enjoying the sight of the housekeeper’s cheeks flushing with each step. “I bought a surprise for you last night,” she said, licking her lips. When she got close enough, she ran her hand through Monica’s hair, then leaned down, biting her earlobe. “I think you’ll enjoy it.”

Shuddering, Monica looked up at the other woman, staring into her brown eyes. She admired, respected Jennifer and could hardly believe that such a beautiful, mature woman wanted her so badly. Until yesterday, she’d never given serious thought to being with a woman, now, standing in the foyer of her boss’s house, she only wanted to touch, taste and lick her.

“Jennifer,” Monica said, “I’ll do anything you want. Let me lick you.”

The auburn-haired woman gave her a light peck and then grabbed her hand, tugging her after up the stairs. She led her quickly to her bedroom, feeling her thighs on fire as she walked up the stairs and down the hallway. “Climb up here,” Jennifer said, squeezing her breasts and staring at the sexy brunette. She stripped out of her robe, revealing her matching, high end black bra and g-string. The garter belt and stockings were something that she rarely wore unless she wanted to drive her husband wild. From the look the maid was giving her, the outfit had the desired effect on her as well. Pulling her g-string to the side, Jennifer smiled at the maid, showing her the slick, moist lips of her vagina. She was so horny, the older woman couldn’t help sliding a finger in between her lips, so anxious she was for the younger woman to taste, to touch her.

Monica crawled up onto the bed, breathing heavy and trying not to stare at the gorgeous sight of the sexy older woman’s shaved, slick pink nether lips. Kissing the older woman’s stomach, she moved sensuously up, kissing and licking the auburn-haired woman’s chest in between her glorious mounds before finally draping her long brown hair over to the side, staring into Jennifer’s eyes.

“I want you,” Monica said. Licking her lips, she tilted her head, staring into the auburn-haired woman’s brown depths, her pupils dilated. Grinding her hips into the auburn-haired woman, she felt Jennifer’s muscular legs wrap around her buttocks, heels digging into her. In response Monica licked the older woman’s chin, then playfully sucked on her bottom lip. Staring into the other woman’s eyes, she bit down, tugging Jennifer’s lip when she felt her yoga pant covered mound grind against the auburn-haired woman’s nether lips.

“Ohh, Monica,” Jennifer gasped, leaning her head back and reaching up to run her hands through the younger woman’s long brown hair. Stroking it, she felt the maid start to press her center harder against her wet pussy, the sensation sending tingling sparks throughout her body. “I want you so bad,” she said, in heaven.

Nipples on fire, she tugged Monica’s ass tighter against her, loving the sensation of the younger woman’s body pressed tightly against her. Staring into the younger woman’s beautiful brown eyes while Monica started to grind against her faster, working into a steady rhythm, Jennifer could read the lust, the desire, in her orbs. With her hands wrapped into the younger woman’s hair, she pulled her head down to kiss her again. Tongue extended, she felt Monica start to suck on her slick organ, giving it fellatio. The feeling started to drive her wild, and Jennifer’s eyes rolled back, her mind awash in pleasure.

Sucking on Jennifer’s tongue, Monica was loving the taste, the feeling of rubbing against the older woman and she wanted more. Leaning in, she started to slid her tongue into the older woman’s mouth even as she felt the auburn-haired woman’s legs start to shake, her heels no longer clasped tight against her butt. Thighs slick, she could feel the wetness building between Jennifer’s legs, soaking her yoga pants. Monica started to kiss the auburn-haired woman even more fiercely, sliding her tongue into her mouth and opening her mouth wide. Jennifer swallowed in response, making a gasping sound, even as she returned the kiss. Monica could contain her curiosity no more. She pulled her head back, feeling Jennifer’s grip on her hair loosen, and kissed down her neck.

“Lick me,” Jennifer begged, pushing the top of the brunette’s head down further. Arching her neck, she could see and feel Monica kiss her breast bone, sliding her tongue down lower, then caressing her navel. She shivered, the sensation both ticklish and enticing, her legs twitching with her anxiousness. “Please, Monica, I want to feel your tongue in my pussy.” Pushing harder, she felt Monica move down lower, and gripped her hair tighter while bucking her hips, anxious.

Feeling the auburn-haired woman’s hands grip her hair tightly, Monica moved her head lower, sliding her tongue to the top of Jennifer’s pubic mound, planting a kiss just above her g-string clad lips. Shivering, Monica felt her own pussy grow wetter as she smelled the heady scent of Jennifer’s desire. Eyes wide, the maid slid her tongue down the outside of Jennifer’s tiny black g-string, using her hands to balance as she started to tease the other woman even more. A moment later, she sucked the other side of the g-string covered pussy, drawing Jennifer’s skin into her mouth. She sucked lightly, savoring the musky scent of Jennifer’s mounting lust. Playfully, she bit down on Jennifer’s thigh, making the other woman jump.

“More,” Jennifer groaned, tilting her hips upwards, attempting to bury the younger woman’s beautiful face in her pussy. In response, Monica brought a finger to her center, and gently pushed the g-string to the side. “Fuck me,” she begged, feeling of Monica’s digit sliding her g-string to the side, exposing her lips. Jennifer wanted the younger woman to lick her, to finger her, to make her cum.

She had never before licked another woman but after the experience the day before, Monica wanted to lick Jennifer’s pussy and feel the older woman cum, just as she had cum the day before while the older woman penetrated her with the dildo. Hearing the older woman begging for it was a huge turn on for the younger woman. She slid her finger around the outside of Jennifer’s pussy, tracing the pink, slick folds. Hesitate despite her lust, Monica brought her finger to her mouth, tasting the cum. Surprised at the sweet, thick flavor, she licked the outside of Jennifer’s pussy with her tongue, the first time she had ever gone down on a man or woman.

Jennifer gasped when the younger woman started to lick her and felt her stomach twitch, surprised and excited at the housekeeper’s eagerness to please her. She folded her right hand into the younger woman’s hair, attempting to pull her face harder against her now dripping pussy. She felt Monica’s tongue trace the outline of her lips and shuddered, pulling Monica’s hair in response. A moment later, the brunette finally slid her tongue over her clit, and she felt like she might cum right then, her vaginal walls clenching in sudden spasm, so wound up she was.

Cupping her lips, Monica sucked gently at Jennifer’s clit, surprised at the sudden gush of wetness. Despite the awkwardness of licking her, she quickly delighted in the taste, the feeling of the older woman’s muscular thighs pressed against her cheeks. Curious what it would feel like, she slid her index finger inside the older woman’s pussy, surprised at how tight it was. The slick, wet flesh felt soft against her hand and she heard Jennifer moan, pushing herself down, forcing Monica’s finger deeper inside.

After a few moments of sucking on Jennifer’s clit, she could feel her pussy clenching around her finger. She knew the older woman was not cumming, but her intense arousal was surprising. Sucking harder, she brought Jennifer’s clit into her mouth and moved her finger deeper inside. The taste of Jennifer’s gush of pre-cum was sweeter than she would ever have imagined and Monica started to fuck the older woman’s pink pussy faster, her hand moving in and out. After a few strokes, she slid a second finger inside, looking up at the auburn-haired woman, who started to caress her nipples, arching her back. Moaning and panting louder, Jennifer’s face was flushed and seeing the look in her eyes, Monica started to lick around in a variety of movements to see what the woman’s reaction would be. Then she withdrew her fingers, sliding her tongue to the base of Jennifer’s pussy and pushed her thighs back, stuffing her tongue inside the pink hole as far as it would go.

The g-string got in the way briefly, until she pulled it to the side, eager to continue her oral experimentation. She started ramming her tongue in and out of the older woman’s tight pussy. Monica felt her nose collide with the auburn-haired woman’s slick pink lips, and her face grew smeared with the older woman’s slick, sticky fluid. Monica started to grow more excited herself, stiff nipples digging into the comforter underneath her t-shirt and her thighs started burning, aching with need.

Jennifer pulled her knees up closer to her chest, bringing her hips off the bed, enabling the young brunette to penetrate her deeper still with her tongue. Panting, Jennifer felt the rush of an orgasm start to build, the feeling of Monica’s tongue sliding in and out of her dipping pussy driving her to a massive climax. Feeling the auburn-haired woman start to shake, the housekeeper slurped upwards, gulping down the auburn-haired woman’s pre-cum and then twirling her tongue around Jennifer’s clit before clamping down, sucking hard.

When Monica’s lips encircled her clit once more, the sexy auburn-haired woman older woman felt her insides liquify and her climax spill over. Concentric circles of pleasure rippled outwards from her core, her vaginal walls shaking, her pussy twitching and leaking even more cum. Moaning long and hard, Jennifer let go of the younger woman’s hair and spread her legs wide, arching her back. She pushed her stiff clit harder against the maid’s pert lips. “Oh, yes,” she cried out as her brown eyes rolled back and she felt a second wave roll through her body from Monica’s delicious sucking motion. Back arched, Jennifer felt her mind reel, unable to think, as waves of pleasure crashed through her. The sexy brunette’s tongue worked in circles and her lips sucked at her tender, swollen clit. Finally a full minute later, her orgasm subsided, and she relaxed, collapsing down into the bed further. Laying back down on the bed, Jennifer was feeling spent and delirious from the climax for the moment, needing to catch her breath.

Just when Jennifer came down from the clouds and collapsed onto her bed, she looked down and met Monica’s brown eyes, which stared lustfully at her. “That was amazing,” Jennifer said, in between spasms from the maid’s languid, persistent licking. She caressed her nipples and felt a smaller orgasm ripple through her, more an aftershock to the massive earthquake a minute earlier. “Kiss me,” she begged, licking her lips and staring at the sexy young woman.

Monica wasted no time in climbing up to meet the auburn-haired woman’s lips, kissing her passionately. Despite the slick, sticky aftermath of Jennifer’s orgasm covering her lips, the auburn-haired woman returned her kiss with fervor. Shaking with need, Monica pressed her slick pant clad nether lips into Jennifer’s as the auburn-haired woman started to tongue kiss her in return. Groaning, Monica writhed against her, desperate for attention. Breaking the kiss, the brunette arched her back and deliberately, teasingly, rubbed her pert nipples into the auburn-haired woman’s chest, her eyes half closed as she did. “You’re amazing,” Monica said. “And you taste delicious.”

“I think so too,” Jennifer said, grinning. She reached down and grabbed Monica’s tight ass, pulling her mound against her slick pussy and gyrating for a moment. Eyes smoldering, she looked into Monica’s brown eyes and whispered fiercely, “Oh, god, I want you to fuck you, Monica.”

“I want you to fuck me, too,” Monica said, leaning down and flicking her tongue against the auburn-haired woman’s cheek. “How do you want me?”

Frowning, the auburn-haired woman’s cheeks colored and she looked to the side. “I have a toy,” she said. “I was dreaming about using it on you.”

“Didn’t you use it on me yesterday?” Monica asked, pausing in her gyrations, barely able to breath.

“This one’s the new one I mentioned,” Jennifer said, “I want to fuck you, hard,” she said, looking back up at the maid. Her cheeks were flushed and she looked nervous. When she did, she clutched the brunette’s ass, and pulled her tightly against her slick lips, moving to stimulate her clit. The feeling made her groan in need, and she continued, “Maybe you could use a toy on me after I fuck you?”

“Oh, yes,” Monica said, feeling the auburn-haired woman’s nails dig into her ass cheeks. “Jennifer,” she said, staring into her brown eyes, “I want you to fuck me with your new toy.”

Smiling suddenly, Jennifer raked her nails up the maid’s back and then licked her cheek. “I’ll show you,” she said, brown eyes wide and full of mischief.

With a final, quick peck, Jennifer got up and walked out of the room. She found the pink plastic bag in her closet and then grabbed the toy, smiling to herself. She disappeared into the bathroom and walked over to the sink. She washed the pink shaft with soap and water, which was attached to a small pink base. Drying it off quickly, she walked back to the bedroom and saw Monica laying there, fondling her breasts, the t-shirt discarded. Seeing the petite woman’s lovely nipples, stiff, and her young face flushed with lust brought a tingle to Jennifer’s pussy. “What do you think, Monica?”

Looking over to the side, the half naked maid saw the pink strap-on dangling from Jennifer’s hands. Attached to a small, triangle shaped base, the phallus had a uniform shape, narrow at the tip and black straps for a harness. While Jennifer’s other toy had felt incredible the previous day, the strap-on cock made her eyes light up at the thought of getting fucked by such a pretty looking toy.

“Fuck me,” she said, grinning. “Put it on, please.” Rising from the bed, Monica reached out to help the other woman while Jennifer slid her g-string off. Then, she pulled the harness over her hips, the black straps slung low on her waist. After a few moments of tugging and pulling, Jennifer gave an experimental thrust in the air, to see if the strap-on was mounted properly. This made Monica blush and giggle, reaching out to tug on the phallus with one hand, standing next to Jennifer and sliding her hands down the other woman’s hips. “You look hella sexy,” she said, giving Jennifer a quick peck on the cheek. “Do you want to take these off first?” She smiled, tugging on the waistline of her yoga pants.

Without hesitation, Jennifer reached over and pulled them down, kneeling next to the young woman, staring at her pretty pussy. She could smell Monica’s desire and as she stood up, she could barely contain her excitement over what she was about to do. “Lay down,” Jennifer said, brown eyes dilated. “I want to look into your eyes while I fuck you with this.”

Grinning even wider, the young woman lay back down on the bed, spreading her legs and sliding her hands provocatively down to her thighs. “You’re so sexy,” Jennifer said, climbing onto the bed. She knelt in between Monica’s thighs, positioning the strap-on at the slick junction and staring lustfully at her wet pussy. Her skin was so creamy, flushed and shining from her earlier climax that Jennifer thought she might end up cumming from using the strap-on on the sexy young woman. “Ready?” she asked, steadying herself with her left hand and holding the strap-on with her right.

“Fuck me now, love,” Monica said, lifting her hips up, impaling herself on the strap-on tip. “Oh, that feels good,” she said, just as Jennifer started to slide the shaft inside. After it penetrated her just an inch, she started to feel her hymen constrict, “Ah, careful,” she said, the inside of her pussy aching, the virgin entrance tight. “Ouch,” she said, bringing her legs up to her chest. “Slowly.”

Jennifer could barely hold back, despite the obvious pain the maid was in as the strap-on cock penetrated her virgin pussy. “Okay,” she said, enjoying the feeling of her strong, muscular thighs touching the virgin’s smaller, toned legs. “Is this better?” She backed off for a moment, holding the tip of the strap-on inside the brunette’s slick, pink outer lips. Reaching down, she started to massage her clit with her thumb, delighting in the soft moans Monica started to give. Finally, Monica reached down and grabbed her waist, pulling her closer, forcing the strap-on deeper inside. Her pussy was so wet, the strap-on penetrated her easily. Jennifer had to stop when Monica started to whimper in pain, despite the teen’s anxiousness, she wanted the younger woman to enjoy every inch of the fake cock. Pausing, she held the strap-on two inches inside, playing with Monica’s clit until the frown slid from her face and she started to pant.

“Oh, yes,” she moaned, as Jennifer slid the strap-on further inside, nearly half way buried into her virgin pussy. She could feel the brunette’s thighs, so soft and smooth, against her hips as the she worked the strap-on back and forth in slow, small thrusts. “Harder,” Monica begged, reaching up and pulling on the sexy older woman’s nipples. “Make me cum.” Monica still felt sore, but the feeling of Jennifer’s clever, strong fingers manipulating her clit had made the pain of being penetrated slowly recede until she felt nothing but pleasure, as the cock started to slide deeper into her aching tunnel.

Groaning, Jennifer started to thrust faster, moving the shaft in and out of the sexy younger woman’s pussy in long, deep strokes. The movement was awkward for a few minutes as she adjusted to the feeling of the strap-on mounted over her clit. When she started fucking the younger woman faster, she leaned down, stretching her legs out and draping her auburn hair, slightly slick from sweat, just to the side of Monica’s face. Pussy on fire, she could feel every thrust bringing her closer to a second orgasm, just from the stimulation of the strap-on base digging into her clit. “Kiss me,” she gasped, when the younger woman released her nipples and instead wrapped her hands around her back.

The cook had fed us with steak and cleaned up and left, leaving the two of us alone. My host put some soft music on and lit the fire. The wine had been excellent and I was feeling it in my head. The white bear-skin rug in front of the fire looked so inviting, and I wanted my head to stop spinning, so I laid down on that on my belly, facing the fire, staring into it and becoming quite mellow. My host left me there for a short time, letting the fire and the music and the soft rug and the buzz from the wine float me away.

He was back, in a short cotton robe. He must have been at least in his late forties or early fifties, but he’d aged well. His leg muscles were firm and I thought that he must have been an athlete at one time—and probably still worked out. As he leaned down to me, the front of the cotton robe opened and I saw a well-developed chest with a matting of salt-and-pepper curly hair running from his chest down in a thin line to where the lapels of the robe met.

“Some port or cognac?” he asked in a rich baritone. His face was distinguished. A lawyer or a banker or corporate CEO. Even after two weeks, I didn’t know. He spoke little about himself, showing more concern for me. So kind. If he hadn’t found me at the side of the desert highway, brought me to this big house on the ridge above Santa Fe, and had a doctor in to look at me after what the beating and the hours on the sand by the highway had done to me . . .

The steel gray hair was expertly cut, a perfect-teeth smile. A slight scar under his left eye—his eyes were hazel and so alive—only serving to emphasize how handsome his chiseled features were. Model handsome. A healthy Santa Fe tan smoothed out the laugh-line wrinkles.

“No thanks, Mr. Grimes. Another drop of alcohol and I’d go right to sleep.”

“We couldn’t have that, now, could we?” he answered, the low laugh conveying his mood. “And I’ve told you, it’s Bill.”

“I have trouble with that . . . Bill. You’ve been so kind, and there’s such a divide between us.”

“We must see what we can do about that too. Here, take a look at these. I work with photography. I’d like to know what you think.”

He was handing a folder to me. I opened the cover to find a set of loose photographs. The ones on top were art shots—nudes—of a young, handsome youth. A bit younger than me. About nineteen, I’d guess. The photos were expertly done, although it wasn’t the artistry of them that took my attention. Toward the bottom of the pile, the photographs were more explicit—much more explicit as I leafed through to the bottom of the stack. And the youth wasn’t alone. Grimes too was in these photos. I turned my head toward the sofa to see the cotton robe fall onto it in folds.

I shuddered and stiffened as his body came down on top of me, covering me full length. My torso was raised on my elbows, as I was fanning through the photographs. His hands laced in underneath me and he was unbuttoning my shirt and then pulling it off my arms.

“Relax,” he whispered in my ears. “Just concentrate on the photos and let your body drift with me.”

I did what I could to let the tension in my body flow away. “Mr. Grimes. Bill,” I whispered.

“Sure you don’t want to try the Cognac? I still have the taste of it in my mouth,” he whispered back at me. He cupped my chin and turned my face toward his, and, when he kissed me, I tasted the rich, full-bodied nectar of the wine.

His hips were moving against my pelvis, and I felt the hardness of him through the material of my jeans and briefs.

I felt the palm of a hand on my belly and fingers working at the buttons of my jeans. Instinctively, without conscious control, I lifted my butt into his crotch as the zipper of my jeans was being pulled down. I wanted him to know there would be no struggle, no indecision, no holding back for whatever he wanted. He had paid for this in full. All of the hardness went out of my jaw and I opened my mouth totally to him.

The moaning I heard was almost detached, but I recognized it as mine.

He wouldn’t release the hold of his lips on mine and in the wake of the taste of the Cognac, his tongue had invaded my mouth cavity. I could hardly breathe. But I didn’t care if I couldn’t. He was still possessing my mouth as he was pulling my jeans and briefs below my hips.

Skin on skin now below the belly. A hard dick inside my butt crack, stroking up and down on the rim of my hole. I shuddered and groaned and he released my mouth and gave a low, comfortable laugh.

“The photos. Concentrate on the photos,” he said.

I returned my attention to the photographs, pushing through the ones of the handsome youth solo, down to the ones of the youth with Grimes. He was moving down the line of my back now. Kissing and licking my shoulder blades, while one hand pulled my jeans and briefs down and off my legs and the other one worked my nipples and then came down to palm my belly as his lips reached the mounds of my butt cheeks.

His teeth nipped at the sensitive skin of my rump and I groaned as I heard the low, appreciative laugh again. I felt a light slap on each cheek and they were being squeezed and nipped again. A hand went between my thighs and pulled my cock and balls through. I tried to widen my stance, but he moved his forearms to trap my thighs close together, tightly against my dick. A hand possessed my cock and slowly stroked down. I raised my buttock further, presenting to him in supplication—for whenever he wanted to mount me.

“Bill, Bill,” I whispered.

“Ah the divide narrows, doesn’t it? Surely there will be no trouble with first names now,” he answered back. And then that arousing laugh again. He clearly was enjoying this.

“Do you like the photos?” he asked. “Don’t the two of us in these photos make the smashing pair?”

“Yes.” It was a whisper.

“Does the lad look happy? Am I fucking him well?”

“Yes.” It was a whimper, followed with a moan.

He had taken both hands and was spreading and squeezing my butt cheeks with them. When he blew across my hole, I shivered and groaned.

“So nice. Such a rosy bud. And already opening.”

“Bill,” I whispered. “Bill.” And then “Bill!” as he kissed the hole and his tongue started working into me. I writhed under him for countless minutes as he tongued my hole and worked my cock with his hand. Intermittently he moved his mouth down to my cock and balls and gave suck, and during these intervals his fingers invaded my channel and found my prostate.

“Bill, Bill! I’m gonna come. You’re gonna make me—”

“Oh, I hope so, Rick,” he muttered. “I certainly hope so.” And then he laughed again.

And I came.

He covered my back fully with his body again and his cock was rubbing inside my butt cheeks once more. I raised my pelvis further to him. Fully presenting to him. Wanting him. Wanting him to know I wanted him. “Bill,” I whined.

“Ah, are you ready? Do you want me inside you? Permission to fuck, my young lad? Jeff wants his daddy?”

“Yes,” I whimpered, all of my senses focused on the shaft rubbing across my hole, not even catching the reference to a Jeff.

He went up on his knees, reaching over to the sofa. I heard the slight rustle of the condom packet as he opened it, and then I felt the coldness of the lubricant he poured liberally between my cheeks and worked into my opening with probing fingers. My chest was flat on the floor, my cheek against the photos of Grimes fucking the youth, my arms splayed out at my side. I was up on my knees, though, with my quivering butt raised high to him, my legs spread.

Fuck me, fuck me now, was what I was trying to convey.

He crouched over me, pulling my chest up, me now on all fours. The cock was rubbing inside my crack again, sending electric impulses as it stroked again and again against my hole.

“Please. Bill, Please!” I begged.

He laughed. And then I felt the bulb presented at my hole and he was slowly pushing into me. I gasped and my eyes started to water and both my elbows and my knees began to quiver and to give way. But Bill, crouched over my midsection and continuing to enter me, held me up with strong arms wrapped under my rib cage. I felt his lips at my cheeks, and I turned my face to him, letting him possess my mouth again—masking my groans and moans.

Who would have known he was so thick and hard—and that it would take so much length of my channel for him to bottom?

Coming out of the kiss, my face was suspended over the photographs. The one on top was of Grimes crouched over the hips of the young man, who was on all fours—on a white bear-skin rug in front of a fireplace; this fireplace. The expression on the young man’s face was one of ecstasy. Bill was looking into the camera with an expression that almost conveyed, “At last; in at last.”

Only half hidden below that was a photo of the young man on his back on the same furry rug and Grimes kneeling between his thighs, knees under and raising the young man’s buttocks, Grimes fisting the youth’s slim ankles and holding his legs up and out, wide. I could see a good two inches of the root of a thick cock at the young man’s channel opening. And again, that “gone to paradise” expression on the young man’s face.

A third photo was of Grimes completely sheathed, the youth’s legs running up Grimes’s torso now, his hands reaching around Grime’s thick waist and clutching the older man’s thin butt cheeks close to him with fingers digging into the flesh, obviously trying to take in every centimeter of the cock. Eyes wild, mouth gaping open, and tongue hanging out. I trembled in anticipation.

He stroked me so long and hard that my elbows and knees did give out and, with a laugh, he rode me to the rug and kept on riding. He was babbling as he fucked me, and I occasionally heard the name “Jeff” spoken. But never the name “Rick.”

Fucking me at such depth, and so filling. My channel walls undulating across the shaft as it mastered me. Throbbing, hot, relentless. Strong hands pulling my thighs in tight. Oh, god, the tightness. The almost despair as he pulls back. Oh, no, don’t leave me! Oh, shit, yes! at the long hard plunge back to the depths. Yes! Again. Oh, yes! And again. Oh Shit! And AGAIN. Paradise. Faster now—stroke, stroke, hold, stroke—making me pant and writhe against his strong hands and moan—and beg for it to go on and on.

I felt him tighten and take in a long breath and then—with my channel trying, unsuccessfully, to close on his cock and keep him inside me—he pulled out of me, and I groaned at the loss of him and heard the condom being ripped away and then felt the flow of him on the small of my back.

He covered my back with his torso again and continued moving on top of me, stroking the small of my back with his cock through his cum. He hands glided along my arms and took my wrists. I turned my lips to him again. His prisoner for as long as he wanted me.

“I’m sorry if you weren’t expecting that this evening,” he whispered in my ear when he once more let loose of my lips.

“I don’t know what took you so long,” I answered, with a sigh.

“I thought perhaps I assumed so much. But you are so beautiful and sexy. I couldn’t help myself. Hardly a good host.”

“You saved my life,” I whispered back. “And . . . and the perfect host. Almost too polite, I was beginning to think.”

“I have given you every reason to think otherwise, even if you weren’t consciously aware of it.”

Rick didn’t comment on this. At the time he assumed the man was referring to the current move to seduce him.

He turned me on my back, my head resting in the pile of his photographs. He covered my body with his, his cock lying against my own between our still-heaving bellies. I looked down the line of his body. His barrel chest with the matting of salt-and-pepper gray standing out in moist curls and below that a still-flat, hard belly—even at his age. I wanted to run my hands through the matting on his chest, to search out the taut nipples I saw hiding there between the curls of the hair. But he had his fists wrapped around my wrists and they were trapped on either side of my shoulders. So, instead, I dipped and raised my face into his chest. I found a nipple almost immediately and sucked it in hard as he gasped and then I nipped at it, which produced a yelp from his mouth and an engorging surge in his cock.

Releasing one of my wrists, his hand grabbed my head under the chin and forced it back into the pile of photographs and his mouth was hungrily attacking mine, his tongue invading, every bit as filling and probing as his cock had been. I gasped and nearly gagged.

I wrapped my legs around his, my heels rubbing up and down his hard calves. His free hand snaked between our bellies before I could completely push in as close as I could to every inch of him. The hand wrapped our two cocks together. And he stroked our shafts and worked my mouth with his until, with a lurch and a shudder, I came again.

He released my mouth and cock then. I could feel he was fully hard again. Amazing for his age. Not so much, though, considering the strength and power of his fuck. He raised his torso off mine a bit and looked down into my eyes. He was smiling that melting smile of his—the one I saw in the photographs when it was clear that he had mastered the young man to exhaustion.

“That’s not fair,” he said in a tone of false pout. “You’ve gone twice and I only once. Would you mind terribly if—?”

“I hoped you would,” I whispered breathlessly, my mind possessed by what I’d seen in the photographs, as he knelt between my legs, pulled my buttocks up on top of his thighs, and reached over on the sofa for another condom packet. I lifted one of my legs up his torso to hook an ankle on his right shoulder while I watched him roll the Golden Ticket on his cock and prepared to raise the other to his left shoulder when he was crowned, positioning myself to roll up my rump to receive the deepest thrusts I could eke out of him. I spied three more condom packets on the sofa and shivered in anticipation. I had seen other photos of other fuck positions the young man obviously had enjoyed.

But who, I was wondering, who the fuck was Jeff?

* * * *

“Hey, guy, are you OK? Here, here. I brought some water. There, let’s get you up and . . . for the love of god, you look just like . . . is it a mirage? There for a second. . . . Here. Yes, drink some of this . . . not too much at first. Later more. Are you OK?”

“K,” Rick said. He’d been on his side, curled up, the pain in his side grinding away as the only clue that he was still live. The man turned him onto his butt and raised his torso, supporting him underneath with a strong arm. And he was offering a plastic bottle of commercial water for Rick to sip from.

Rick groaned from the pain in his side when his body was moved, but his hand with the bottle of water was at his lips and he almost had to be restrained from gulping down too much of it.

“Sorry, are you hurt? More than just the heat in the desert?” the man asked.

“Side,” Rick answered. “Hurts.” He looked up at the man. A handsome businessman type, slim build but good strength. Gray haired. In his forties or fifties. Beyond him, at the side of the road, Rick saw a late-model Mercedes sedan. Not the cheapest model.

The man had lifted Rick’s shirt. “It’s bruised. Have you been in a fight or something? Are you from around here? Anyone I can call?”

“No one. Just walkin’ . . . walkin’ to Mirage,” Rick said.

“Mirage?” the man said and looked at Rick funny. Rick thought there was something else he was going to say, but then he didn’t. “You going east or west?”

“West. Mirage, Arizona,” Rick said and then he grimaced and reached for the water bottle. “Sorry. Can I? Mouth feels like cotton.”

The Man looked like he understood better. “Ah. Arizona. Got to get through New Mexico first, and you’re obviously in the need of a doctor—and to get out of this sun. I see there are other bruises. Someone’s worked you over. The worst of them yellowing, though, not that recent. Here, I live in Santa Fe. In a bit of a hurry. There aren’t any hospitals around here that I know of. I can take you to Santa Fe and have a doctor who I can get to look at you. That OK?”

And then when he saw that Rick wasn’t responding. “That OK, son? Oh, lord, don’t zone out on me now. I swear the resemblance is . . .”

But Rick wasn’t listening. Rick had lost consciousness.

When he regained consciousness, he was lying along the backseat of a luxuriously appointed car. He wondered if this was his chariot to heaven.

“Where? What?” he muttered.

“Oh good, you’ve come to. I couldn’t leave you there out on the desert between nowhere and nowhere else. We’re on the way to Santa Fe. But if you want me to leave you somewhere—”

“No, that’s . . . that’s fine,” Rick murmured. “No place better than that. And . . . thanks.”

“There’s a water bottle on the floor of the car by your head,” the man said in a rich baritone that exuded relief. “Just don’t try to drink too much too fast. We’ll be home in about four hours.”

“Perfect,” Rick muttered. And although his throat was parched, he drifted back off to sleep, dreaming of a knife cutting into his side. Feeling the pain of it; ruminating on the thought that one wasn’t supposed to feel pain in a dream. Home, where was home for him? This was Rick’s last thought before blacking out.

* * * *

“It’s a bruised kidney,” the doctor said. He was standing over Rick, who was tucked into a queen-sized bed in a rather large room that must have belonged to a young boy, one who had enjoyed athletics and Spider Man, although the Spider Man stuff mostly had drifted to the floor to be replaced by Rock band posters. The baseball and football trophies had obviously held their place of honor, though.

“It’s on the mend already. I’ve seen to some other cuts and bruises that should have been taken care of a week or more ago, but are managing pretty well on their own now. You were in some sort of fist fight, were you? More than one maybe?”

“There was something like that, but I never had a chance to get into it.”

“I see,” the doctor said. “Ganged up on, were you?”

“One was enough.”

“I’d say one was more than enough. A relative of Bill’s, are you?”


“Bill Grimes. This is his house. He called me in.”

“No. He’s just a good Samaritan,” Rick answered. “Picked me up on the road outside Amarillo.”

“Texas?” the doctor said with surprise.

“Yeah, I guess that’s where Amarillo is. I’ve come from back East.”

“Walked the whole way?”

“No. I was with some other guys.”

“Guys with bruised fists?”

“No. But it’s complicated.”

“And now you are here in Bill Grimes’s house.” It was said like there was some meaning behind it.

“Yeah, I guess. I feel like I’ve slept forever.”

“Bill said you got in late last night. He couldn’t get me until this morning. I just got home this morning from Vegas.”

The doctor looked at Rick for a long minute before he spoke again. He was putting medical stuff back in his bag and snapped it shut. “And you say you aren’t a relative of Bill’s?”

“No. He just stopped for me. I was down on the side of the highway.”

“I see,” the doctor said. That tone again of there being more than just seeing. But then he got up. At the door, he turned and said, “I’ll look in at you again tomorrow. Another couple of days, and I think you can get out of bed without much pain.”

Only when the doctor was gone did Rick realize he was naked under the sheets—and clean. He blushed, suddenly bringing to mind the only thing he had remembered about arriving here. They’ve driven up the slopes above old Santa Fe, and Rick had the impression of a long, low adobe building that went on forever. And then an elegant, open space of an entryway with a sunken living room below, beyond which, through a great expansion of glass, the twinkling lights of a low-lying city could be seen. The wall of windows was broken by a gigantic fireplace with a white bear-skin rug in front of it. A large dining area was off to the right upon entering the front door, opening to a similarly large kitchen beyond with gleaming black glass fronts on the appliances. To the left of the door was a corridor leading back to what must be a bedroom wing and an adobe-encased staircase leading to a second floor area above the bedroom wing.

The man who had brought him here in his Mercedes—who Rick only now knew was named Bill Grimes—had half carried Rick to a Leather sofa near the fireplace and gently lowered him down into the corner of that.

“I’ll be just a few minutes,” he’d said. “I’ll prepare a room for you and be right back down. And I’ll bring you something that will help with the pain.”

The man disappeared up the stairs to the second floor. Rick looked around and it didn’t take him long to find out something important about the man who had saved him in the desert. There was considerable art work around. Bronze and silver sculptures and oil paintings. All large and showy, and obviously expensive. The sculptures were all of men’s muscled torsos and the paintings were male nudes. There wasn’t much more bric-a-brac around except for along the tops of the bookcase balcony rising in a semicircle around the inner side of the living room, separating the sunken area from the corridor and dining room on the raised level. This space was devoted to framed photographs. They were too far away for Rick to see, and his eyes kept going back to the nearer artwork anyway. Two art books lay on the huge, glass-topped coffee table, both with black-and-white photos of artfully posed male nudes on the cover.

When the man returned, he had changed to a short cotton robe and was carrying a glass with fizzing liquid in it. As Rick took this down in several long gulps, the man asked him what his name was, how old he was, and where his family was and, it seemed, told Rick his own name. But none of this stuck—neither the specific questions nor the answers. Almost before Rick had finished drinking the medicine, his eyelids were drooping and he was drifting off to sleep.

The next face Rick saw was the face of the doctor in that room with the posters and the athletic trophies.

After the doctor left, Bill Grimes appeared with a bowl of soup and a glass of milk, and Rick’s nearly two-week period began of healing his wounds from his beating at the Big C ranch and his heat stroke from the stumble on foot along the highway out of Amarillo.

Grimes gave Rick plenty of time to rest and sleep and during that time, all conversation, which was terse and relatively rare, was focused on Rick and on making him well. Grimes said little about himself and Rick didn’t press him. For most of the first week, Rick was in a semiconscious state, often almost in a coma, induced by whatever medicine the doctor had left to be given to him. The doctor only visited three times—covering the first three days. Whatever he left for Rick to take was of such a strong nature that Rick spent more time sleeping and when he was sleeping, he slept as the dead.

Each morning when he came back into a semiconscious state, he was naked and clean under the sheets.

Twelve days after his arrival, Rick made his first journey down the stairs and to the living room. For two days prior to that, he had made sojourns out onto a balcony off the bedroom he was in, the bedroom also having its own full bath and a massive walk-in closet with just two hangars—his neatly cleaned and pressed jeans, cowboy shirt and briefs hanging on one and a cotton robe similar to the one he’d seen Grimes wear on the other. Rick’s duffel bag was on the floor. There was very little in the duffel bag; just some clothes. Whatever money Rick had once had was now gone, and it took Rick a few minutes to remember the Hispanic men who had robbed him by the side of the road.

Feeling well enough to move about, Rick put on the cotton robe and went out on the balcony, which was oriented out toward the west and hovered over a steep slope down the ridge side. He shivered when he looked down into the ravine. It must be a drop of five stories or more down to the rocks in the dry stream bed.

When he decided to go down to the living room for the first time, he put on his jeans and cowboy shirt. When he got to the bottom of the stairs, which required some effort as weak as he was, he found a rather rotund Mexican woman in the kitchen cutting up food and humming. She smiled at him and he smiled back. He went to the window by the fireplace in the living room, which turned out to be a French door—all of the space on either side of the fireplace was devoted to the same sort of door—Rick turned the handle, wanting to go out onto the portal beyond and take in the fresh mountain air. The door was locked, as was the one beside it. He didn’t see any knob or anything to unlock it from the inside.

He turned to ask the woman in the kitchen about going out onto the portal, but he saw, instead, Bill Grimes walking briskly toward him from a room beyond the kitchen.

“Ah, Rick, it’s good you’re up and about. Come on back to the den and let’s have a drink and I’d like to show you the book of Ansel Adams photographs I was in Dallas buying before we met. Do you know who Ansel Adams is?”

“Yes, I studied him in a photography class,” Rick answered. The reference brought Groton and the movie he was making to mind. It all seemed eons and continents away now.

They entered a room almost as large as the living room. All of the artwork here was of Southwestern art—and most of it consisted of photographs. There were bookcases lining two walls. These cases were packed with art books, most, that Rick could see, of Southwestern landscape oils and lithographs—Georgia O’Keefe type stuff or of landscape photography. One whole section, though, caught Rick’s attention. They looked like photographs of male nudes. He started to gravitate toward those, but Grimes took him by the arm and led him toward a leather-covered sofa with a glass-topped coffee table in front of it. A large book was open on the table, and even Rick could see that the photo shown was an Ansel Adams.

“Here, this is the book I wanted to show you. And here’s a drink. I’m sure it will be OK for you to drink this now. You’re almost fully well, I think.”

Rick could tell from the delicate touch of the man’s fingers on his arm and from the way he looked into Rick’s eyes—the flash in his own hazel eyes, and the curve of his mouth when he smiled—that he wanted Rick. Rick had now been into this sort of thing for quite a few months—going back to Tony, who had given Rick the exact same look before fucking him.

Although the artwork in the living room had alerted Rick, he would have known from how the man touched him and looked at him now that this is what the man wanted. What the artwork had done for Rick, though, was to give him time to think about the circumstances. The fact that the guy had stopped for him and brought him here and gotten a doctor to see him and nursed him. This all made Rick feel like he owed the man something. Beyond that, the man was quite handsome and well built. And overriding everything else, Rick liked to be fucked and hadn’t been for two weeks.

Rick would like this Grimes guy to think he was seducing Rick, if that’s the way he wanted to play it. But Rick was already prepared. He was ready to play.

Rick started drinking the drink as he sat next to Grimes while Grimes turned the pages of the Ansel Adams book and spoke in that rich baritone of his about this nuance and that of lighting and location and time of day. Rick had no idea when either the drink or the photography show was finished, though, as the strain of a first trip downstairs had gotten to him and he drifted off to a deep sleep.

The next morning he awoke in the room on the second floor. He was clean and naked under the sheets.

The next night, Grimes himself decided that Rick was well and strong enough to come down to the dining room for a full meal. The cook prepared them a delicious steak dinner with excellent wine. As they ate, she cleaned up the kitchen and was gone before they were finished.

Grimes invited Rick to go on down into the living room and to take his wine glass with him. Rick felt hazy from the wine, but it was so good that he took another drink of it at the table. He didn’t feel steady enough, though, to carry his glass down into the living room, so he left the glass on the dining room table and carefully negotiated the stairs down there with the use of both hands.

Rick perched on the sofa as Grimes moved about the room, dimming the lights, putting soft music on the CD changer, and lighting the fire.

As Grimes was doing this, Rick looked around, sensing that there was something different about the room than from the time he’d first sat on this sofa two weeks previously. It wasn’t the artwork; that was all still in place. Then, he noticed that the photographs were gone. The living room bookcases were now empty of all photographs. In their place were some replicas—or genuine as far as Rick knew—of black and white Southwestern native pottery.

Rick didn’t dwell on this find. His head was spinning from the first alcohol he’d drunk since coming here. But that wasn’t completely true; he’d had a drink in the den with Grimes the previous afternoon. Of course he hadn’t been able to hold that very well either.

He wanted his head to stop spinning. The fire and the bear rug looked so inviting. He slipped down onto the rug on his belly, facing the fire.

Grimes entered from the bedroom wing, dressed in his short cotton robe. He offered Rick some port or Cognac to top off the evening, but Rick begged off. Then Grimes was leaning down to Rick, with a portfolio in his hand.

“Here, take a look at these,” he said. “I work with photography. I’d like to know what you think.”

As Rick fanned the photographs out—artistic nude shots of a young man, and more explicit photos below those in the stack of the young man with Grimes—Rick turned his face to the sofa to see the cotton robe fall onto it in folds.

And then Grimes was lowering his naked body onto Rick’s back.

They fucked for an hour and more, in several positions—all inspired by the photographs Grimes dropped on the rug under Rick’s face. As the logs in the fireplace were being reduced to glowing embers and Grimes was on his side, with Rick cuddled into his chest and Grimes holding Rick’s leg up for access to Rick’s channel as he was still stroking him deep in a side split, Grimes put his lips to Rick’s ear and said, “It’s so nice. You’re such a sweet fuck.”

“Yes, yes, it is nice,” Rick whispered back with a mellow sigh.

“It’s so much nicer fucking you when you are conscious,” Grimes said.

“Conscious?” Rick responded, in confusion.

“Yes, we have made loved more than a dozen times already. Even asleep, you responded fully and openly to my fucking you. You are a sweet lay.”

“But . . . but I was asleep.”

“And your sweet vulnerability enhanced my enjoyment of you. I assure you that you were able to move your hips in rhythm with me and moan in your sleep.”

Rick froze in shock and instant realization. Going out like a light after being given a drink; waking up naked under the sheets and clean—it all fit into place with just that one statement from Grimes. Rick gasped and tightened up and shuddered, marking this as the start of his need to be out of this house, to escape the insane clutches of this man.

If Grimes noticed the change in Rick, he didn’t signal it. He just kept on stroking deep inside Rick’s channel. And ultimately Rick gave into the fuck fully and lay there panting and moaning, arms and legs spread in full supplication for anything else Grimes would want to do and with a sloppy grin on his face. When Grimes was finished inside him, he withdrew and stood and went to the kitchen for another bottle of wine. He came back into the living room with a photography book on Mapplethorpe nude male models and sat on the sofa, leafing through the pages. At length he looked down at Rick again, still sprawled on the bearskin rug, completely open to him. Grimes smiled and got up from the sofa and went over to a table and retrieved a camera. He came back.

“Don’t move. You look lusciously vulnerable and open.”

Rick did as he asked, watching Grimes circle him, snapping off shot after shot. This was something Rick was accustomed to; this was of the world Douglas Groton had initiated him into. Gradually, Grimes narrowed in on Rick until he was kneeling between the young man’s open thighs.

“You. You do it,” he murmured.

Rick reached down and took Grime’s reengorged cock in his hands, crowned him with the Golden Ticket condom taken from a packet on the nearby coffee table, and guided the sheathed cock into his hole, as Grime’s fired off camera shot after shot of the entry and then panned up to catch the pain and shock in Rick’s eyes as Grimes slammed his cock home deep and immediately began to stroke hard.

* * * *

Rick hadn’t thought about escaping Grimes’s house nearly fast enough, and the more he just drifted along, the harder thoughts of escape became. The easiest time to try to split and run would have been at the point of learning that Grimes had already been fucking him while he was unconscious—probably from the first night Rick had been here. Thinking on it retrospectively, Rick remembered that the first thing Grimes did when they arrived at the house was to strip and put on one of those skimpy cotton robes of his. He’d then given Rick something to drink that had put him out like a light. There was every reason to believe that Grimes fucked him as soon as he was unconscious—that first night. Most of the reason Rick wasn’t quick off the mark was that, when conscious, he loved Grimes’s cocking. He loved seeing the photos of what the man was going to do to him—and then having it done—and then, sometimes the photos Grimes took while fucking him. Groton had taught him to love this.

And at the same time he found that escape wasn’t going to be easy, he began to see what the rhythm of life was going to be like around here.

Grimes had fucked Rick so silly on the bear-skin rug in front of the fireplace that he let Grimes help him upstairs to his bedroom. While Rick showered, Grimes stripped the bedroom bare of all of Rick’s clothes. And when Rick came out of the bathroom, he found he had been locked into the bedroom. So much for a quick exit.

And then, late in the night, Grimes came back into the room and woke Rick in mid fuck.

“No, no, go back to sleep,” Grimes whispered. “Fucking you in your sleep is more arousing for me.”

Rick relaxed and closed his eyes, let his limbs go limp, his torso arched back and his arms dangling at his sides, as Grimes shoved his knees farther under Rick’s buttocks, wrapped an arm around the small of Rick’s back, and slow pumped Rick’s channel.

This was a more gentle, loving fucking. Always the taking in other parts of the house was exotic, lustful. But here, in Rick’s bedroom, it was slow and attentive to Rick’s needs—almost loving. It was this fucking, too, when Grimes dispensed with the use of a condom. It was then, at the height of passion, as his ejaculation started and Rick felt the strong flow of Grimes inside him, that Grimes murmured the name that wasn’t Rick’s: Jeff. They then settled down to sleep, their bodies entwined. In the morning, Grimes was gone and the door was locked.

He appeared with a breakfast tray.

“I think it best for you to rest up here during the day, Rick,” he said. He made no mention of the missing clothes. And believing the man unbalanced and set on a short fuse, Rick said nothing about the missing clothes either. He was more concerned that Grimes didn’t mention not using a condom the previous night. This gripped Rick like a hand tightening around his throat. This brought permanence to this ritual of the night that caused the ringing of trap doors shutting in Rick’s mind as nothing else had.

The man wanted to fuck him when he was unconscious and without a condom—and while murmuring the name of someone other than Rick. He clearly was bonkers.

“I’ll bring you your breakfasts and lunches. The housekeeper will make enough for you to eat a dinner she’s prepared after I have done so in the evening, and then you can come down and we’ll enjoy ourselves. I have so many interesting photography books to show you—so many ways I want to fuck you.”

Rick thought of trying to get to the housekeeper while she was here, but he already knew she only spoke Spanish, and, from the evidence of what he saw that Grimes kept around the house, Rick could only assume that she already knew about Grimes’s “arrangements” and perhaps was paid enough to not help Rick even if she could. And then there was the part that Rick could only come into her presence in the nude.

That night, after dark, when Grimes let Rick come downstairs to eat dinner, the first thing that Rick noticed were that two video cameras had been set up—one in the dining room and one in the foyer corridor, that were panned down to the bear-skin rug in the living room.

He knew what these were for. And, strangely, they were more calming than shocking to him. This had been what he had associated with the sex act as Doug Groton had brought him across the country toward Mirage, Arizona. Being on camera would give him a role. He had experience in that.

As Rick ate, wolfing the food down both because it was good and also because fucking taxed so much of his energy and he was being taken multiple times twice a day now, Grimes, in one of the several short cotton robes he had, sat patiently at the table, looking through a book of pornographic male art, showing Rick images Grimes liked or thought that Rick would.

“This is the art of Dan Saba,” he said as he turned the book toward Rick. “Can you see the sensuality of it? The time they obviously are taking in his posings? The arousal and love in their eyes?”

“Umm, muh,” Rick responded. Yeah, right, it looked like the younger guy was enjoying the older one fucking him. And, yeah, the shot of the young guy leaning back and his legs raised on the bench and spread and giving a good shot of his hole, cock, and balls was pretty good too. And the one of two guys fucking in a shower.

Rick looked away when he saw a well-thumbed image of a man being fucked in his sleep on a bed.

“And here, in this book, Tony Caperton’s ‘On the Beach’—obviously mimicking that famous pose from the movie. Don’t the two lovers look totally taken with each other?”

Grimes was holding the book open with one hand and already stroking Rick’s cock with the other.

“Oh, god, yes, I like that painting. It’s a lot like the one you have on the wall over in the foyer, isn’t it?”

“Yes. You’ve a good eye. That’s by the same artist.”

“I think I’ve eaten enough now,” Rick said, as he laid a hand on Grimes’s chest and ran his fingers through the curly hair there. His eyes told Grimes that Rick was ready and open to him.

Grimes fucked Rick slowly and sensually on the bear-skin rug, murmuring that Rick should think of the artwork he had seen. All the time the cameras were whirring. The slowness and total taking of the cocking did recall in Rick’s mind the artwork.

On successive evenings, the two played wrestlers on the rug for the cameras after the form of a Thomas Eakins painting of that name and Rick was introduced to a psychedelic drug for a wild, full-color and high fantasy taking in the style of Jon Smith. An image of a fucking bent over a table was played out in the dining room and another series of art photos inspired a scene where both just stood in the middle of the living room, and Grimes spiked Rick’s ass from behind and wrapped his hands around him and Rick arched back to him and they kissed while Grimes gave Rick a rocking fuck.

A Tom of Finland portfolio moved them on to Rick’s wrists being tied to two pillars in the foyer, and Grimes gripping his butt cheeks and standing between Rick’s spread legs and swing fucking him roughly.

They even explored Japanese art, where Grimes produced two brocade robes and Rick sat in his lap facing him, and the fuck started inside the robes, with nothing provocative seen other than the expressions on their faces and knowledge of the movement of their bodies assuring the camera-aided voyeur that they were fucking. And then slowly, ever so slowly Grimes opened up Rick’s robe to expose body parts that Grimes would tease with his lips and teeth, until Rick’s body was revealed fully at the height of the fuck. The film would be cut to focus in on root of the cock lengthening and shortening as it moved in and out of Rick’s hole, surrounded by the folds of the soft brocade of two Japanese robes, ending in a shudder of the cock root marking the ejaculation.

September 2018
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